Because I am a teacher, I struggle as a mom

6:45 a.m.  “Good morning. Good morning. How are you today?”  These things are said in a kind voice as I make my way down the hallway.  While I feel that it is too early to even be out of bed, we are beginning our day together…these students and I.




I check in, make my way to my room and start to put my things away before the bell rings.  Several students enter to drop off projects.  I compliment them on their creativity and show them where to put them.  It is not quite 7:00.

I glance to the cabinet front and see the bird and nest that my seven year old so lovingly made for me this summer.  I promised that I would keep it up to remind me of her during the day.  The sad truth is that I really don’t have time to think of her during the day.  I think back to the morning conversations with my girls and my son.  “Get up.  You’re going to be late.  You need to wear a jacket.  It is cold outside. Make sure that you don’t forget your backpack. Your 100 day bottle is in your backpack.  Turn in the mission trip money.  Do your best on your test.”  All of this said while frantically rummaging for lunch, grabbing my bag, putting on my coat.  It is always ended with “Gotta go. I’m late.  Love you.”  Then that’s it.  I’m off.

Eight and a half hours later I pick the girls up in carpool.  I’m totally checked out.  I’ve used all my words.  I’ve listened intently to stories, excuses, and explanations. I’ve kept a smile and my teacher voice on all day.  I’ve asked questions, encouraged, mentored, and loved on at least 75 other kids.  I feel all used up, empty of any energy that is required to be what I need to be.  The hard truth is that  I really want to drive in the quiet and have no noise.  The delay of traffic is brutal and each traffic jam causes tension because it takes time away from all that needs to be done at home.  My mind wonders to the things that are ahead of me.  What is for supper?  Did I shift the load of laundry to the dryer?  I wonder how much homework needs to be done.

We arrive and go our separate ways.  Although I really don’t encourage technology, I do nothing to stop the girls from sitting mindlessly in front of “something” for at least an hour.  I begin the work that needs to be done.  Unpack lunchboxes.  Find clothes for the next day.  Start preparing food.

I round everyone up for homework.  We eat together.  Like little robots, they rush off to bath.

“Brush teeth. It’s bedtime, Fred.”   I call out.   Prayers are said.  Lights are out.

Every.single.night.  I go to bed feeling like I haven’t been a good momma.  I suppose this is not a healthy way to look at the day.  This rushed life exhausts me.  I’m sure someone somewhere has all of this figured out.  But it isn’t me today.

I keep telling myself that I was made to thrive, not merely survive.

I got a suggestion from a friend tonight to post scripture throughout my house.  I am going to begin putting that up that tomorrow. I seem to need a constant stream of reminders that God loves me.  He chose me for this.  He has equipped me.  Trust in his strength, not mine.  He has ordained all of my days and I will seek to live them out according to his purpose.  Sometimes that looks messy for me.  Often I complain.  I am working on that.  Tomorrow.

I am a work in progress.

 

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