I am pulling my yoga pants up over my 8 week postpartum belly when I hear the milk cup hit the floor. “Sorry Mama!” my toddler yells from the kitchen. I finish getting dressed and walk out to the kitchen to see my son still hasn’t eaten a bite of his eggs. I bend down to retrieve the sippy cup and wipe the spilled milk off the floor. Then I ask my son for what seems like the hundredth time to please eat his breakfast so we can go for a walk.
As I turn to leave the kitchen I look down to see my two cats sitting by their food bowls looking up at me with hungry eyes. Yet again I have forgotten to feed them in the morning rush of trying to get two kids and myself out the door. I quickly get their food out of the cabinet and scoop food into each of their bowls.
I am finally on my way to put on a bit of mascara and pull my hair up in a ponytail when my baby starts to fuss. I fed her, changed her and dressed her just minutes before, but as I look down I can see that she has spit up on her fresh outfit. Sigh.
I scoop my sweet girl up, gave her some pats on the back and then set her down in the bouncer in an attempt to buy a few precious minutes to pull myself together. Before exiting the kitchen, I catch a glimpse of my son putting his fork down his shirt, eggs growing cold on his plate. I take a deep breath and say “Buddy, please eat your eggs so we can go for a walk.”
Mascara swiped. Hair pulled back. Baby changed. Toddler dressed. Teeth brushed. Shoes put on. Water bottles filled. Snack poured. Sun hats found. By the time we are (finally!) ready to go, I feel like I’ve run a marathon.
When trying to get out the door with little kids I often imagine myself as the captain of the ship trying desperately to steer us in one direction…out of the house!!! Even in my attempts to prepare ahead and plan enough time, these little people seem to plan a mutiny every time. In reality, they are blissfully unaware of things like clocks and friends waiting at the park and how hard mama is working to get them out the door. Some days I want to abandon ship, it would be so much easier to stay home after all. But I know if I can manage to stay the course and get to the car, I’ll be glad I persevered.
Eventually we do make it to the car and head towards the park. By the time I’m pulling in the parking lot I can see my friend waiting for us. I park and start putting together the stroller and unloading the kids out of the car. I feel like a hot mess. I feel terrible for running late and am beating myself up. Then I look up and see my friend walking towards me with a warm smile on her face. She sees me struggling to assemble my stroller and bends down to help and says “I’ve got you!” Those heartfelt words make me want to burst into a puddle of tears. The marathon is over, my friend has welcomed me with open arms, and the stress of the morning slowly rolls away as we begin our walk to the park. My heart fills with gratitude for dear friends like my friend Natalie, who meet me in the trenches of motherhood and love and accept me right where I am at.
Sarah Allard is thankful to be experiencing the joy of motherhood after journeying through years of infertility. She is married to her highschool sweetheart and together they are raising their two children in Seattle. Sarah is passionate about hospitality, encouraging other mamas, and slowing down to appreciate God’s daily grace. She is a fair weather blogger at www.thelittledove.com and is often on Instagram.
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