Yesterday was a day off work and while the kids napped I decided to try to nap too. Except my back hurt and my stomach didn’t feel so hot either. So instead I just laid there, switching positions every once in awhile.
I did this for two hours. When my eyes finally closed I thought about the dirty dishes in the sink and how the floor needed swept because there were cheerios from breakfast strewn about. I also thought about the probably three loads of laundry to be done upstairs and the fact that we had nothing in the pantry for dinner.
I knew I should probably get up and take care of it. Take care of it all. But I was overwhelmed and instead I started to cry.
Because sometimes you just need a good cry.
I thought about my life. How wonderful it is but also how terrible I have felt for much of it.
I know it’s not fair. The random crying episodes when really I should be able to handle these small matters like an adult. But instead my mind turns them into big matters and the tears come like a toddler who got a red sippy cup when he wanted the one with dinosaurs on it.
A child still exists in me. And sometimes I let her out.
Other people might say that my medicines are “off” again or I need to start going to therapy. I haven’t been in six months. I was proud of that. I was proud that I didn’t need it anymore. My whole life I’ve needed it. Where’s the fun in that? It’s not cool when it takes work and medicines to bring out the happiness in you.
But just when I thought I was crying because I was sad, I suddenly glanced up at one of Brigham’s newborn pictures. The one where my 21-month-old Landon is staring lovingly at his baby brother. I started to cry harder. They make me so happy. I am so happy to be their mama and I hope they think I do a good job at it. I’m always giving them kisses and hugs and I hope to God it’s enough.
I feel like God must love me because He gave me them. He gives me the strength to be their mama and their role model.
Then I had to go wake them up because I just needed to see their little eyes open and stare up at me. I needed them to be near me.
I realized I wasn’t sad at all. Just a bad moment filled with some not-so-good thoughts. Then a happy moment when I realized just how good I have it.
So I watched my boys jump off the ottoman and we laughed together until our bellies hurt.
And I left my good cry behind.