Oh sweet goodness.  This spunky little thing might just be the end of me.

Like the Hokies jersey/multiple unnecessary bandaid get-up?  That, my friends, is the look of a child whose mother is carefully choosing battles these days.  Because when it takes fifteen minutes (and the help of my four year old) to wrestle a pull-up on the girl at night, some other things just aren’t worth it.

After a failed attempt of bringing the kids (sans Matt) to a beautiful engagement party last night (what in the heck was I thinking??), I felt completely defeated as I loaded two crying kids into the minivan.  Almost instinctively, I called my mom and soon found myself sobbing as I narrated the difficulties of the past few weeks.  I reminded her of Mary Grace’s boundless energy and unbelievably strong will.  How her voice has been hoarse for the past week from her sheer volume.  I acknowledged my embarrassment over her meltdown at the party.  And my mom listened.

She then reassured me that, despite what I was feeling in that moment, I was not a complete failure as a mom.  That an unfortunate string of fussiness and disobedience was not a reflection on my mothering.  That this too shall pass.

Later that evening, as the Bedtime War raged on, I found myself sitting outside of Mary Grace’s door crying out to the Lord for wisdom and help.  And, let’s be real… begging for rest.  As I prayed, I was hit hard with my own sin here.  So much of my frustration that evening had revolved around me.  On my identity as a mother.  Which is exactly why I was so shaken up by an hour of my kids’ misbehavior on display for an entire party of well-groomed adults to see.  So much of my identity has been wrapped up in how well I performed as a mother.  How pristine my kids looked.  How well-mannered they were.  How impeccable their behavior.

This is old hat to me.  Identity has been something I have wrestled with for quite some time.  I wrote about it here and here and here.  You see?  I’m as hard headed and slow to learn as they come.  As I did last night, I have fallen hard so many times for the lie that my worth flows from my accomplishments and accolades. I am just grateful that I have a Father who loves me and accepts me unconditionally, despite my own tantrums and screw-ups.  That, at the end of the day, I can rest in my identity as His beloved daughter.

I did finally get a good night sleep last night in case you were wondering… until Carson woke us with his screams of, “mommmy!! I threw up all over my bed!”  But, hey, that’s motherhood I suppose.

I’m still learning, y’all.  Bear with me…