So, instead of starting to write, I designed a new header, sank my old theme into the internet graveyard, tried a new theme, and here we are.
It's a bit messy, but that's okay.
Right now, I'm thankful to be here and writing--to feel that click-click, pause, think, click-click, delete, delete, think, click-click, pause rhythm again. I've missed it.
I'm going to channel a bit of the Nicole from 2010--back when everyday blogging was the thing and not an internet dinosaur. I'm going to simply write about my day.
Today would not go on my top 100 days of Motherhood. It would definitely land on the bottom somewhere. If it were a contest, I'm not even sure it would get a "good participation" award. It included an older child that is become more of a person-person (you know, when they reach that age when they want to do actual things by their actual selves and know how actually express themselves) whose actions seemed to light up every button on my "motherboard" of annoyance. They were beeping and blinking: stop touching that, what are you doing, that's disgusting, stop throwing light sabers at me, stop grabbing your brother by his diaper, stop pushing the water dispenser without a cup, stop throwing that ball on the ceiling, just stop.
My younger child received several severe eye rolls from a certain mature adult because his level of dramatics was at an all-time record. There was lots of plunking down and crying for no reason, throwing objects on the floor, and body slamming into his very nice, although frustrated, mother.
In my finest moment, I locked myself in the bathroom for a few moments to recover a small fraction of my sanity while also telling my almost four-year-old to go away. True story.
Today, I felt like a remote control car that is running out of battery power. It starts up and feels a little out of control, and then it jolts, stops, spins its wheels, grips the ground, and then slams into a door--over and over again.
I felt disconnected--like a mom on auto-pilot. I met the needs, but I didn't meet the eyes. All day, I was in a funk and sat in it. Instead of trying a new direction, I just kept hitting the wall--over and over again.
It's tempting for me to sit here at the end of the day, drinking a cup of homemade hot chocolate (because isn't chocolate the big fix for a bad day?), and replay every negative and unproductive thing I said or did today. It's easy to do that. It's easy to tell myself a lie that will only keep me zipping around in circles: you're a failure.
But the truth is this: although today was not my best day, I'm not failure. And despite the fact that I chose to wallow in ungratefulness and annoyance, God is a God of forgiveness and newness. And my boys--well, they are the best gifts.
Tomorrow, there will be one hundred fresh moments to take our day a different direction. And when I do hit that wall (because I will), I will ask God to give me eyes to see another way--to see this motherhood gig with joy-eyes.
Because, even on the hardest and challenging of days, I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Although, I do wish I had magic happy attitude and obedience dust ;)