I see you...Tired..Weary..Momma

This morning I shuffled into church dragging Autum behind me, half-whining because I wouldn't let her choose her activity bag--it was one of those, we are running late, you get what you get situations...

I sit down and do a quick once-over...two earrings in? Check.  Matching shoes? Check.  Shirt not tucked into panties? Check.  No snot, food, or toilet paper stuck to me anywhere?  Check.  Food in teeth? Check.

Ok, at least I eliminated most completely humiliating situations I can think of...the rest I'll just roll with.  Surely I have experienced something worse...I'll survive.

Take a deep breath.  Sit for a second.  Then stand to sing and greet one another.  I look across the aisle to see a young couple quickly shooing their kids into the pew, one child a few months old, the other a early toddler...diaper bag strewn across the mommy's chest.  Dad had baby at his shoulder with burp rag on his chest.  Toddler was not happy with the sitting situation, nor to be rushed and shushed.  And of course this all happens when singing stops and all goes quiet.  (been there...)  Momma plops him up on the pew on his bottom....sits the diaper bag down, and sits to do her quick once-over of herself...before realizing the rest of us are all standing to greet one another.  She takes a deep breath and stands back up...and we make eye contact...

One of those...put on a fake smile, hope this make-up covers my dark circles, and that I only had time to curl the front half of my hair convinces everyone else I'm ok.  I'm good.  I can do this.  I'm super mom.  One of those, masked smiles.  Masking all the emotions that can erupt at any given moment if prompted.  But you are working so hard to mute.  To convince the rest of us around you, you are good.  And for the brief moment we made eye contact I feel like so much more was exchanged...than half-smiles.  More like this feeling of:

"Momma...it's ok.  I get it.  I didn't brush my teeth either. In fact I'm wearing workout shorts under my non-ironed dress because I have not done laundry in a week...(more like haven't had a brief moment too)...

And your son had a cookie and a few chips, half an apple, and some pudding for breakfast?  I know.  Been there.  My kids had left-over birthday cake and water.  And shared the 2 pancakes leftover in the freezer.  I told them if they asked for syrup they'd be walking to church by themselves.
Yep.  I feel you.

You cried yourself to sleep last night in total exhaustion, feeling like you aren't seen or heard...your efforts are unseen, unappreciated, unknown?  Yep.  I have cried tears in hidden moments too many times to count...cupboards, car rides to school, in doctor's offices, in the shower, in the middle of the night feedings...yep, all me, too.  Just if someone could understand, reach out, hear you, validate your lack of getting anything done, your weariness, questioning what you are doing, will you ruin your kids...how does anyone do this moment...just someone, pleeeease?? (*sigh) I do, weary momma. I am.  I do.  I've been there.  Over and over again.

Your dress is too tight.  None of your jeans fit yet.  Your hair hasn't been cut or colored in months.  You don't even feel like a woman most days.  Sometimes you daydream of days of old, wearing pretty dresses, make-up always done, house clean, and responsibilities few?  You just wish the weight would fall off.  Or you wish you had time to shop for new clothes, without 3 kids at your feet in the changing room...while you cry your new mascara down your cheeks...feeling desperate and frumpy and unattractive.  I get it.  I have walked out of too many changing rooms and department stores to count...just holding in the tears until I got to the car. 

I know your stress.  Your fears.  Your pains.  Your mess-ups.  Your undesirable yelling fits.  Your anger.  Your regrets.  Your constant asking for forgiveness.  Your silent prayers.  All the same for me.  All my struggles.  They are there.

Just know, this half-smile is my acknowledgement of your feelings of failure.  Your feeling overwhelmed and inadequate.  Yes.  Me too.  All validated.  And understood.  And this half-smile is also my encouragement.  Keep fighting.  Keep praying.  Keep pushing through.  It does get better.  It does.

Trust me.
But for now, just know.
I see you, tired, weary momma.  I see you.