This past week of handling issues and having to be a grown up has
KICKED MY A$$. If my mom were still here, I’d have western unioned (is this
still a thing?) her some dollars to have her fly out to save me. I'd pass the
baton of being an adult on to her so I could crawl into my closet with ice
cream and fuzzy blankets and just pretend it all isn’t happening. (And, for the
record, she’d have totally taken that dang baton and then still found me in the
closet to give me a neck massage.She was so FANFREAKINGTASTIC) I literally
closed my eyes several times over the past 7 days and whispered “find your happy
place,” “this will be over soon,” and “just do the next right thing here.” At
some point as I sank firmly into defeat, I got on to Facebook and saw someone
had posted that little inspirational quote that basically said something about
how God has created us to be JUST the person our own children need. Lord,
please let that be true. Because I worry often that my children got really
screwed.
I feel like we are just stepping out of the muck now, and it’s weird
how badly, how instinctually, I want to return to Shannon and Jeremiah of 2002.
As in, go out, drink and eat and drink some more, laugh with friends— like
throw my head back and laugh my size 8,husband-getting bootie off, play shuffle
board, come home whenever and only have to be responsible for myself. Back in
the day of having time to put on liquid eyeliner, going grocery shopping and
ignoring the prices, and having a shoe selection that included more than flip
flops. No drama over nasty child-driven illnesses, no worrying about
whether my child is is struggling, no feeling like an incompetent mess of a
mother because I keep forgetting to sign forms and return them promptly, no
stressing over an electric bill. NONE. OF. THAT. Just endless buckets of chips
and salsa and lips that are speckled with sugar from a margarita glass and
jeans that fit perfect and dancing to Ja Rule with my girls in a questionable
little place until the lights came on and laughing and smiling that came so
dang easy it resulted in permanent lip and forehead wrinkles. (That I am now
stressing about. How flipping ironic.)
—Y’all know I love my babies fiercely. They are, without a doubt, my
heartbeat and my purpose, and the reason I try to be better every single day.
It’s just every now and again, I miss that carefree, figure it out minute
by minute, worry about the consequences later girl I was B.B. (before babies).
I firmly believe that God lays out every season (some longer than others)
before us to teach us, to grow us, to have us hunker down into His Peace, His
Promise, His Mercy. My husband can attest to this— when things (little or
big) pile on top of me, I always say “what is HE showing me here? I am supposed
to be learning something here, I am sure of it…” It’s sort of funny, actually,
because often I wish God was just a little more obvious and quick about these
lessons. Like, a billboard that says “YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL SHANNON AND YOU
NEED TO LET GO. NOW.” Which is obvs exactly why He isn’t like that. It would be
too easy.
I am still digging to find the purpose of this past week. It could be
as deep as giving myself more to Him, or maybe as heart-stirring as reminding
me how blessed I am to be surrounded by such a loving bunch of people who were
on standby this week, ready to help.
Or maybe I just need a margarita-fueled night with my cute husband.
I will let
you know if I figure it out.
p.s we are okay and the issues were totally minor. but you know how sometimes the small things feel like mountains. that.
