The Struggle is Real

toast-1077984_1280It has been a few weeks that the kids have been back at school and we, all seven of us, are adjusting as best as we can. Of course, the least favorite part of this adjustment is the earlier bedtimes that are then combined with the earlier wake-up times. It would appear that all of my children inherited my dislike of the early morning hours and share in expressing those feelings most days. Such expression consists of the head buried under the covers accompanied by several grunts, moans, and a 15 minute get-out-of-bed-even-though-I’d-rather-put-needles-through-my-eye-process. Painful. Very painful, and yet quite remarkable that at some point in time each one of them does get out of bed and make it down to the breakfast table with at least 4.28 minutes to spare before we are headed out the door.

This, my friends, is what I call the Monday Morning Mad Maniac Rush. Only it happens on Tuesday mornings, too. Oh, and Wednesday, and . . .well, you get the point. This past week there was a morning when it was even more difficult then usual. I was operating on about three hours sleep, struggling with a nasty head cold and feeling more exhausted then usual. When the alarm went off at 6:00 am, I snoozed as many times as possible. 

Okay, so here is the thing. Let me just come clean, be honest and share this with you.

I am just not that Mom.

You know, the Mom that gets up bright and early to meditate, take a brisk 3.5 mile run, enjoy a cup of herbal tea and then proceed to greet the smiling little ones with fresh made muffins and omelets. Truth be told, my reality is a bit more like this…”oh my gosh, guys, let’s go! Could you please get dressed, yes, you…pj’s off and clothes on. All your clothes. No, you can’t wear the same underwear again…what? You did yesterday? Well that’s further reason why the answer is no and you must change your underwear. NOW.” Followed by a short six second pause…”let’s go, guys, downstairs, table, breakfast, eat, now.” Have I mentioned that I am also not that great at forming complete sentences at this time of the morning?

And this day as I blurted out these directives, I tripped down the last couple of steps while carrying the 3+ day old cup of tea that my husband left in our bathroom, which splattered all over the wall and in my hair. Few expletives muttered.

Children remained oblivious. Awesome. Perceived success.

Onward I went into the kitchen to prepare the quickest breakfast possible, dispense vitamins and appropriate supplements, pack the lunches complete with little smiley notes, and ensure backpacks have all signed papers and additional belongings necessary to be stuffed, zipped and ready to go! Please indulge me for a moment now to share with you that there was a time in my life that working on Quickbooks was considered torture. This is no longer the case, my friends, if you catch what I am dropping. No more. This struggle is real. I am seriously still in shock at how hard this mothering/parenting thing is, not to mention how hard this life thing can be too – but let me save that for another blog. Seriously, no joking here. These five little beings require A LOT. And they have no regards for what time of day it is, how many hours you have slept or the current caffeine level that is keeping you vertical as you attempt to form cohesive thoughts.

Or do they?

Back to the manic morning rush…as we were going out the front door, my morning got even better. As if that was possible. Yet again, I tripped. Down the concrete steps, catching myself on the palm of right hand, spilling my cup o’caffeine down my shirt and scattering the contents of my purse on the front driveway. Expletives flew, children gasped and the tears streamed down my cheeks.

And then…this happened. My youngest son caught my lip gloss that was rolling into the street. My middle guy ran over to me to ask if I am hurt and then picked up my purse and filled it up. My oldest boy gathered the odds and ends, including my mug which was mostly empty and directed the younger ones to the car. My eldest, my first daughter, sat down on the step next to me and softly said…” It’s okay, Mom. We’ve got this, let’s go.” 

So, we are in the car now. On our way to school and in approximately 18.3 minutes, this struggle will be over; for today. We will remember, as best as we can, that the love will remain far longer than today, because the struggle may be real but our love will also be stronger. And that, my friends, is the truth on every manic morning and beyond. So regardless of a repetition the following day, or days or weeks or…well, whatever…regardless of the struggle; there is the best part too and that is the love. The love is real, and that’s all I need to know for today.

‘Cause tomorrow, well, it will be real again, too.


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Kiera Smale is Mom of 5, daughter, entrepreneur, life coach, soul sister, dream chaser and change maker. That’s me in a nutshell. Through love, laughter and inspiration, I share my story with the world around me ~ thank you for being a part of it.

 

 


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