The following is a guest post from Jenny of Princess Turned Mom. She is the proud mom of two precious babies; Colton Jackson & Rosalie Belle. Once upon a time she went to college to become a dancer then became a princess at the happiest place on earth where she met her prince who became her husband and the rest is history! She started blogging about her experiences as a retired princess who became wife & mom and loves to share about the good, the bad, the ugly & how her faith always gets her through.
“Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes in the morning.” -Psalm 30:5
It was one of those mom days where everything seemed to be not going right. The kind of day that seemed to drag on, in fact time seemed to be at a stand still. The kids and I were all sick; I had a severe sinus infection that did not seem to be doing any better even with heavy antibiotics, the baby had an ear infection (which eventually got worse and turned into a double ear infection) and the 3 year old had the usual runny nose, cough, cold symptoms. The smell of Vicks had over taken our house, which I began to think was a tropical rainforest with our humidifiers constantly running and the amount of boogie wipes that we were going through might have filled an entire landfill. I honestly thought I might start turning the color orange with all the orange juice and emergency I had been drinking. The hubby was unfortunately at work and we were all miserable. I had not gotten any sleep because the baby was up all night long, therefore I felt even worse than I already did. I kept thinking; mothers should not be allowed to get sick, there is no calling in sick for our job, not even for even a few hours so we can just lay in bed and get better.
Well, on this particular day I was really trying to pull it together and make us all feel better. I thought maybe some fresh air might do us some good. So I decided to take the kids out to Trader Joe’s for a few groceries.
I should have walked out the moment I walked in. I forgot it was a Sunday and the place was packed. People that have normal schedules and go back to school or work on Monday’s do their shopping on Sunday’s, I am not one of those people. My kids are not in school yet and my husband works on a rotating schedule so he never has the same days off every week. Which is why I didn’t even realize it was a Sunday until I walked into the mad house.
The kids were already in cranky moods but I was determined to get what I came for, I was a mom on a mission. My 3 year old kept calling to me “tissue please” because his nose was like a faucet and I continuously told him to cough into his “germ catcher” aka his elbow. The baby (I say baby, but really she is a toddler now) was already over being in the shopping cart and was crying for me to hold her. I was feeling hazy, my head seemed ten times bigger than normal and my body wanted to collapse. As I forged my way through the tiny, overcrowded aisles the kids of course wanted to open every container I put in the cart. “Mommy I’m hungry.” “Mommy, cheesy popcorn!” “Cereal please.” I had no power to say no, I handed them whatever they wanted to keep them pre-occupied and some what happy while finishing up my list.
After waiting what seemed like a lifetime to check out we finally made it to the cashier. While managing cheerios dropping all over the floor, holding the baby on one hip who is crying while saying “buttons, buttons” because she wants to push the buttons on the credit card machine and also trying to keep the three year old from falling out of the cart, I pretended to keep it together as the cashier asks me if I found everything alright.
As I began to push my cart out of the store I could feel the tears welling up inside of me. I was about to loose it. It took everything I had to get the bags into the back of the car and both kids loaded and locked into their carseats. That’s when it hit me. Earlier that day I had texted a couple friends to see if by chance they might be free to come help me for a bit and not a single person was available. None of them knew the severity of how I was feeling, but at that very moment I lost it. I cried. Right there in the Trader Joes parking lot with my two kids in the back seat, I wept. Not the single tear rolling down the face, the kind of tears that make your shoulders hunch forward and your entire body shake. I felt so alone and just wanted to give up. This felt like more than I could handle. I had no idea how I was going to get through the rest of the day.
I wish I could tell you that I had a miracle happen, that the kids both took naps at the same time so I could rest, or that a good samaritan saw me crying and offered to help (not that I would have let a complete stranger babysit my kids, but…I was desperate). Well, neither of those things happened, sometimes there isn’t a perfect ending to a story. I claimed the scripture “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” -Philippians 4:13 and was able to do what any “good” mom would do; give the kids a microwavable dinner, have them watch a few too many shows, then put them to bed.
I went to bed shortly after them and prayed that both kids would sleep through the night. I knew tomorrow was a new day, a chance to start over. I knew in the morning my husband would be home and that alone gave me hope of survival. This mommy business is literally the hardest job in the world and some days are good and some are really quite miserable. But just as a sick baby cries out for their mommy in the middle of the night so are we to cry out to our heavenly father for help. And that is what I did that day as I cried at Trader Joe’s.
“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.” -Isaiah 66:13