This week has made me feel like a big ole failure. Why? Thank you for asking, y'all are always so kind. Honestly, I don't know why! It's this gnawing feeling inside of me that says I'm doing it all wrong! Truth be told, I'm not, but I believe this attack comes at me to throw me off my game. I scrutinize everything I'm doing with my children. Where did I go wrong? Is it the lack of protein? (He he!) No, it's me being overly judgmental of myself because I assume others are doing the same.
There are these overwhelming times of fluster and hustle and constant movement. Those are the times I feel like I'm not doing my best. And the truth of it is, I'm just in a busy season. I'm not under prepared to get to these places. I factor in time for traffic. I make sure my kids are dressed and have their bags packed for the evening. Dinners are set. Nobody is late. Nobody shows up hungry. I have it all taken care of. And I stop and think to myself, "This is only for a season." I have always loved Ecclesiastes 3. For those that don't know, or don't want to look it up, it goes as this: For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace. (Verses 1-8) I think every time I struggle, my mind refers back to this. I turn it into mom-isms. A time to run around like a crazy woman, a time to sit alone at the table. A time to ask the kids to put on shoes, a time to scream because in three minutes no shoes have been placed on a single foot. A time to cook a delicious well balanced meal, and a time for PB&J in the car so we aren't late! There are so many times that I think, "Will I actually miss this in life?" And in those moments I look at my children and see how much they've grown in a year. Soon they will drive themselves all over creation. Soon I will just show up for performances, testing days, tournaments, games, or whatever the level of performance is for the activities they're involved in. Not long after that they will be off to college somewhere and off to careers, significant others, and will no longer be "my problem." There is a time for weeping that they will be gone and a time for laughter that they will be gone. My findings of failure don't come in the right here and right now. I find myself failing in their future. Sure, it sounds ridiculous. I'll give you that. But ever since wombdome I have thought of who my children would become. I didn't think about how many home-runs would be scored in their final game. I worried about who they would be as humans making an impact in this world. Tuesday I found myself driving back to my home to grab pants for Caleb. I reminded him to pack his pants and belt in his bag. I asked him if he did it, more than once. Yet, he accidentally packed his shirt, not his pants. We left the dance studio in a flurry to grab pants and rush off to taekwondo. I couldn't decide if it was my fault for not checking in his bag or his fault for packing the wrong piece of his dobak. If I had opened his bag and checked, I wouldn't have been trusting his word. But at the same time, he's an 8 year old boy that can't remember to make his bed every morning despite the fact that he has been doing it for over a year now. The confusion within me made all of it worse. Somehow I had failed - and I can't figure out which way! I suppose it would depend on your views of parenting that you would decide which way my failure fell. Regardless of the final judgment, I went back to my view of Caleb in twenty years. It's my job, in this season, to prepare him for his future. Will he be responsible enough to pack his own bag correctly in twenty years? I hope so. Will he be rushed or calm? Will he think through the traffic to drive to wherever he is going? I hope so. I may have dropped the ball by not checking his bag, but I'm pretty sure he is going to make sure his pants, and not shirt, are packed properly. So my failing can turn to excelling in the future. And besides, this is just a season. In time, Caleb's taekwondo classes will be later because he will be a higher rank. Then again, in time his dance classes might be later as he progresses there as well. I guess we'll have to see what that season of life holds for us. Although that day made me want to break down, I tried my best to use it as a way to build up. I tried to keep silent, but I had to speak. There is a time for everything. Silence would only force me to stew. Speaking about my frustration with having to drive all the way back home to turn around and pass the dance studio to get to taekwondo hopefully taught Caleb to be more careful in packing his bag. I chose to speak for my son's future wife. (You're welcome, young lady.) There will be a time for my failures. There will be a time for my success. For now my biggest failure will be not snuggling on the couch and watching enough movies with my greatest successes.
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May 2023
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