These last few weeks have been rough. I often only write when things are good, after the valley. I tell you the victories, the stories of overcoming and finding grace and joy. We all do it, but I tell you what I want you to hear.
I don’t tell you about how I feel unprepared and uncertain about parenting.
I don’t always tell you about the the tears, regrets, the guilt.
I don’t tell you about the days I go to bed thinking, “I wish I would have slowed down today”.
I want to be all there, where ever I am.
But these last few weeks, have been tough. I haven’t been all in the moment. I’ve been wishing for more, discontent, and overwhelmed.
I’ve been doubting. A lot.
I’m drowning in housework. I cleaned the kitchen sink today and realized I cannot remember the last time I did that.
I don’t really have a reason, which makes me feel all the more like a failure.
If I cannot handle this, how will I ever handle it when my kids come home? Will the dishes ever get done? Will I ever see the bottom of the laundry hamper? Will my house ever be neat and clean?
Probably not. And that’s ok.
Because when we are hungry, we eat. We have food. When we are thirsty, we get a drink. From a different glass. Because we forgot which one we used last time. We have clean water.
And we wear clothes every day. And we get to shower and sleep with blankets. So, no, the laundry will probably never be done (and folded and put away) all at once.
And as for neat and clean? My house is a home, loved and lived in. Blessed with the chaos of family, the giggles, the snuggles, the fun (the meltdowns, early bedtimes and the toys that we trip over)
And even though I admittedly sometimes want the little voices to call out to Daddy in the middle of the night instead of Mommy, those little voices are the best thing ever.
I often tell people you’ll never fully be prepared to have children, biological or adopted. There is just no way to prepare yourself for the parenting adventure. For the ups and the downs. For the love that fills your heart and takes your breath away. For such extreme love that brings pain greater than you or I could bear alone. For the way ice cream tastes after a long day full of 3 year old fits. For the relief when a fever breaks in the middle of the night. For the pride that comes when your child puts someone elses needs above their own.
It’s ridiculous to think that we can ready ourselves for such a thing. Once again, I found myself trying to control things, to be perfectly prepared.
And then I realized, my kids aren’t looking at me for perfection, in a house or anything else. They are looking to me for love and acceptance.
Every single time Liam says to me “I want you”
I want to drop everything and hold him.
It hurts my heart so much to think that there are many children who don’t have anyone to give that kind of love to them. To give them the security of being there. I have worried and stressed so much about having our home ready for two more children, I lost track of what is really important.
I’m here. I’m an imperfect mom, wife, friend, daughter, who serves a perfectly gracious God.
There’s still dishes to put away and laundry to fold.
And there are two children in this home who need me more.
I will never be enough, but God more than makes up for that. We say “yes” and He provides. I can’t do it all, and I’m ok with that.
Please pray our little ones come home soon.We are ready. We are willing. We are waiting.
This post originally appeared at TiffanyNardoni.com.