Patience- what is it? Lately, I have none, and it shows. I have very little patience for anything or anybody, including M&M. So what's going on? Jamera is about to graduate, and boy am I overwhelmed. Tamia is growing as she puts it "bigger and taller." And I am growing tired and gray. I know, I know, I am only 39, but "Lawd," I feel like I'm much older. So what happens when Patience forsakes you (or should I say when you forsake Patience)? God sends you a message. My message came yesterday from Mia- my 2 1/2 year old.
Tamia- "Mommy are you mad at me?
Me- shocked "What did you say, Tamia?"
Tamia- again asks, "Are you mad at me, Mommy? but this time she adds, "Just be happy with me."
At that moment I thought to myself, what's wrong with you Lady? How could I not be happy? I have too much to be thankful for, and instead of worrying about the minutiae of life, I should be doing what God created me to do, Loving M&M. "Out of the mouths of babes..." I hear you Father, loud and clear. Today, I am thanking God for the much needed wake-up call.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Earthquakes Happen
The summer is over, so that means I’m back at work. And while I want, need, and crave normalcy, it’s hard to do all that I have to do, and do it well, when all I want to do is stay at home with M&M.
This morning before I get ready to leave for work, I notice that Jamera is visibly tired. Her usual gleam is not present, and her movements are deliberately sluggish. Not a good thing. I have to shake, I mean wake her up. I have to get her to snap out of her sleep-induced trance because she has a busy day ahead of her. She has been tasked with keeping Tamia.
Now mind you, when Tamia wakes up, she hits the ground running; she’s been walking since 8 ½ months, so it's safe to say that now at 11 ½ months, she’s a sprinter. But putting all that aside, when Tamia first wakes up all she wants is her mommy. This demand is non-negotiable. Dilemma: a sleepy big sister and a mommy-loving sprinter; not a good combination. But the task must be passed on because Mommy has to get moving. I have got places to go and mountains to move. School starts in two days, and saving the world takes preparation or atleast five teacher work days. So while I am rushing and trying to get out of the house without incident, Tamia decides to have a meltdown. Her face is all scrunched up and misshapened; she's a contortionist. A sad sight to see really. Now we are both absolutely heartbroken.
What's a TeacherMom to do? The clock is ticking, and so is my head at this point. Luckily, AutoMom kicks in, and suddenly I know just what to do. I scoop her in my arms, and calm her down, like only a Mommy can. And as they say,"in a matter of seconds," she's quiet, and all is right with the world again.
So I finally make it out of the door, and I at this point I feel pretty good about how I handled the situation. A sigh of relief escapes as I get in my car, and as luck would have it, my car doesn't start. So now I sit in the front seat of my car debating whether or not to go back into the house to wake my sleeping husband. I hesitate-- not because he is asleep and tired from working all night, but because I realize that I now have to contend with Tamia again. Poor baby. Even poorer Mommy. I look up to see her standing at the storm door wondering why my car hasn't moved. Dang. I walk hesitantly into the house, and Tamia immediately jumps into my arms and stays there until my husband starts my car. Now, a new delimma presents itself. The dreaded second departure. Can I take another meltdown before 7:30 am? But, just as I brace myself for the second meltdown, I realize that Tamia is calm, and I’m not exactly sure what has happened. I guess an extra "5 minutes" together was all she needed, because when I walk out the door a second time, she's much better, and so am I.
Later that day, an earthquake happened, and I didn't even feel it. Maybe it's because I'd already experienced a mini quake-Tamia's morning meltdown. Although low on the Richter Scale, it was big enough to affect this Mommy's heart.
This morning before I get ready to leave for work, I notice that Jamera is visibly tired. Her usual gleam is not present, and her movements are deliberately sluggish. Not a good thing. I have to shake, I mean wake her up. I have to get her to snap out of her sleep-induced trance because she has a busy day ahead of her. She has been tasked with keeping Tamia.
Now mind you, when Tamia wakes up, she hits the ground running; she’s been walking since 8 ½ months, so it's safe to say that now at 11 ½ months, she’s a sprinter. But putting all that aside, when Tamia first wakes up all she wants is her mommy. This demand is non-negotiable. Dilemma: a sleepy big sister and a mommy-loving sprinter; not a good combination. But the task must be passed on because Mommy has to get moving. I have got places to go and mountains to move. School starts in two days, and saving the world takes preparation or atleast five teacher work days. So while I am rushing and trying to get out of the house without incident, Tamia decides to have a meltdown. Her face is all scrunched up and misshapened; she's a contortionist. A sad sight to see really. Now we are both absolutely heartbroken.
What's a TeacherMom to do? The clock is ticking, and so is my head at this point. Luckily, AutoMom kicks in, and suddenly I know just what to do. I scoop her in my arms, and calm her down, like only a Mommy can. And as they say,"in a matter of seconds," she's quiet, and all is right with the world again.
So I finally make it out of the door, and I at this point I feel pretty good about how I handled the situation. A sigh of relief escapes as I get in my car, and as luck would have it, my car doesn't start. So now I sit in the front seat of my car debating whether or not to go back into the house to wake my sleeping husband. I hesitate-- not because he is asleep and tired from working all night, but because I realize that I now have to contend with Tamia again. Poor baby. Even poorer Mommy. I look up to see her standing at the storm door wondering why my car hasn't moved. Dang. I walk hesitantly into the house, and Tamia immediately jumps into my arms and stays there until my husband starts my car. Now, a new delimma presents itself. The dreaded second departure. Can I take another meltdown before 7:30 am? But, just as I brace myself for the second meltdown, I realize that Tamia is calm, and I’m not exactly sure what has happened. I guess an extra "5 minutes" together was all she needed, because when I walk out the door a second time, she's much better, and so am I.
Later that day, an earthquake happened, and I didn't even feel it. Maybe it's because I'd already experienced a mini quake-Tamia's morning meltdown. Although low on the Richter Scale, it was big enough to affect this Mommy's heart.
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