A couple week ago, I had one of those days. You know, one of those epic-mommy-fail-sort of days that go down in the books and you can't forget - no matter how badly you want to.
My newborn isn't sleeping very consistently at night yet (go figure), so I started the day feeling a little threadbare already. As soon as my husband left for the day, my teething two-year old blew out of his diaper. Poop. Everywhere. So I stripped him down and stuck him in the tub for a bit. No sooner did his rear end hit the water than my newborn started screaming to eat. So I retrieved the baby and sat in the bathroom, nursing one while the other bathed.
That's when the FedEx guy came to the door. Now, normal common sense mommy-ing states that you let the door go, leave the package on the step, and continue to sit with your bathing toddler. Except that my phone had inexplicably stopped getting service two weeks earlier with no fix date in sight from the carrier and I happened to know that the FedEx man was delivering my new carrier's SIM card and I had to sign for it.
So, to every pediatrician in the world's horror - I'm sure, I left my older son in the bathtub with strict orders to stay put (I don't recommend doing likewise; I'm putting all my bad-mommy-ness on honest display for you here), unlatched the baby and pulled my shirt back down as I ran to the door. At this point my two very-friendly-but-very-alarmist dogs were howling like crazies. To avoid a bigger scene at the door, I quickly threw them onto our second-story deck long enough to answer the door (we live in an apartment, so they can't get off the deck). As I closed the door, package in hand, I watched the next part unfold in cinematic quality slow motion: one of the dogs lifted his leg and peed all over a flower pot. As I stepped out the door to yell at him, the neighbor on his deck below called out, "please tell me that's water and not dog pee."
Yep. My dog had just peed on my neighbor, as it ran down through the cracks between the deck boards.
I about started crying right then and there. "No, it is," I called back and finally choked out "I'm so sorry!" I rushed to mop up the rest before it got any worse as my toddler called "all done!" from the bathroom and my baby started screaming to finish his meal.
I later emailed my husband (since my phone didn't work and I couldn't call anyone...) to say, "my day is now complete." I did eventually get my older son safely out of the tub and re-dressed, my younger son fed, and finally sulk downstairs to profusely apologize to the neighbors (who were exceedingly gracious and forgiving). But I was pretty drained at this point. I'm not sure how I didn't cry, actually.
Later that day, I managed to get both boys and both dogs out of the house for a brief walk to check the mail and run off some energy. A sweet lady stopped us along the way to exclaim, "You have two kids and two dogs?! How on earth do you manage?" I sighed, gave a weak smile and answered, "Oh, some days I'm afraid I don't manage them very well at all." I'm sure she didn't want to know how I had managed them all that day. The truth is, I was an epic failure of a family manager that day.
We've all had days like this, haven't we? Although, I sincerely hope for the sake of your sanity that your dog has never peed on your neighbor - I'm pretty sure I felt sick to my stomach the whole rest of the day. But we all have days where everything goes wrong and we can't seem to make it right. At the end of those days - and every day, really - I'm so glad that my value does not come from how well I mother, manage my home, or keep everything together. My value does not come from my decisions, my faults, my strengths, or my abilities. I try to do my best every day, but thankfully my value isn't derived from even my "best."
My value comes from Jesus.
There's a reason I bare all my ugly-mommy glory for you here. Because if there's one thing I want you to hear, it's that your value doesn't come from your mommy-ing. It doesn't come from the food you feed your child, or the health choices you make, or how much money you save, or where your child does or doesn't go to school, or how your family behaves in public or dresses... Those are all good things and we do our best. But your value doesn't come from them.
Your value comes from Jesus.
Jesus knows exactly what your value is, because He has already paid it. Your value was worth His life. And He willingly gave it. I'm so thankful that, on good days or really really bad ones, my value doesn't come from my own efforts. And isn't it great that God's mercies are new every morning and His steadfast love endures forever? Sometimes I need to hear it again, and if that's you today, then please hear it:
You are valuable. You are loved.
No comments:
Post a Comment