God Bless This Hot Mess

I’ve watched Cars almost every single day for the last year.  Tonight, I told my Little to stop sticking crayons in the dog’s ear.  Last night it took us 20 minutes of tears and snot before he managed to figure out how to put his head through the hole in his shirt.  Last week he ate cantaloupe with no problem, this week one bite triggers the gag reflex.

But somewhere in between the tears and the tantrums, there’s this great reminder that sometimes all you need is a “fweezie pop” and a hug to make the world make sense.  I wish life were as easy as climbing up into a lap and reading Courdoroy Goes to the Beach and Hop on Pop over and over again.

Most days I’m up to my eyeballs in laundry, dishes, and tiny toy cars that threaten to break my neck at every turn.  I’ve mastered the “mom look” and tonight I caught myself saying “when you grow up and pay the cable bill, you can choose what we watch on tv.”  At this point, I’m just a pair of mom jeans away from becoming a punchline on those someecards that everyone pins on Pinterest.

The other day I found myself honest-to-goodness praying the words, God would you just please bless this hot mess?  At this point, this is about the only thing I can muster out — eloquence is for people with kids who can make their own breakfast.  Hot mess seasons happen to everyone, and right now it’s happening to me.  We’re all alive, we’re all wearing pants out of the house, and sure, we might be eating graham crackers and applesauce for breakfast but at least we’re eating.  We had cake for dinner last night because I haven’t been to the store this week.  There’s preservatives and dyes in our food, but we still have a lot of love.  Like, a lot.  So I’m okay with the other things that aren’t perfect because today, my Little looks at me after his latest tantrum regarding the location of his shoes and says to me, “you’re my best friend.”

Sure, he’s just repeating what his Lightening McQueen toy car says but at least he’s using it in context!  And some days, I’ll even get a “mommy” tacked on the end of it.

God bless this hot mess.

One of my favorite people sent me this quote today that she saw on the Facebook page of another one of my favorite people:

“Guys- we gotta stop comparing. I have talked to many of you (one in particular today) who have altogether shut down their dreams, gifts, passions because they are tired of looking side to side and seeing others doing something better or similar or bigger or getting more credit.

To comfort you- everybody feels this.

Maybe you have quit or maybe you are miserable trying to prove yourself in your thing but it is possible to sheerly delight in what you were meant to do- just because it’s from God and it is right and you are in the place you are supposed to be. Dream- obey- and then rest in the thousands of unseen works God is doing through you simply obeying. Run on.”

I want you to be encouraged, warrior mama, and know that it is definitely okay to not be awesome every single day.  Quit wishing you could be like that mom in the car line with her amazing hair and just be you, workin’ that ponytail.  So what if you raised your voice today? Try not to do it tomorrow [though, you probably will so just brush yourself off and try again the next day after that].  Find something everyday to laugh at and then just keeping praying this prayer with me:

God bless this hot mess.  

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