Linking up with Five Minute Friday today.

As I literally have just about FIVE minutes to write this, I am totally and completely following the rules. This is usually hard for me.

The theme for today is:

Weary.

I couldn’t get my computer to download the cool graphic. Thus, the theme is so much more fitting, don’t you think?

I lost it on my son this morning. Lost. It.

We are driving to school, which seems like a crime against every P.E. teacher out there because we live TWO BLOCKS away, but yes, we are driving.

I bet you can’t guess why?

Yep. So. We’re rushing and getting hats and gloves and sanity and stuffing it in our backpacks with healthy lunches and lots of well wishes and then, Sweet Red, my dear baby, starts to whine because his hat is itchy.

So we trade the hat out for another hat. Our winter stash drawer is full on into that weird level of nookie where it is fairly bursting with hats and gloves and socks (socks?) and lo, in about two weeks we will be down to one hat and two mismatched socks and some cheese sticks. Because.

So, anyhow, NOW I triumphantly have a hat to give him and I am all, Here ya go sweetie! Put this on! and he’s all:

It makes my hair hurt.

And I look up at the sky and say, Lord give me patience. PLEASE.

It was one of those prayers that was not so much a prayer, but more like a nice spiritual snowball, lobbed AT someone to make them get it in gear get out the door get it together get GOING.

It was not a prayer at all, really. And then as I realized this and grumpily stuffed my child into another hat because he is shivering like there are polar ice caps floating by and I really can’t wait to see how he deals with December for pete’s sake, I got all set into my grump and I yelled and we were all subjected to The Lecture About Being Not Late once again and even I was sick of it.

Weary.

This blog post is probably like a million other mom blog posts out there today. We are tired out and we mess up and I know we are supposed to be gentle and forgive ourselves and yep.

Kinda weary.

Here’s the only part of it that I can offer as a bit of a plot twist:

We get to school and I am helping Red with the hats and the gloves and the coat and the lunchbox full of Guilt and Healthy Choices, and I get down on my knees, put my hands on Red’s shoulders and look him in the eye and say,

Sorry. I am so sorry. I yelled at you and I was a total grump. Do you forgive me?

And he says yes because of course he does (what is he gonna say? No?)

But then he leans in with those impossible eyelashes and such a soft kiss and gives me three kisses and THREE hugs and as I walk to the door he hugs me again, and tells his friends,

This is my mom.

And I understand how Jesus operates, really get it, in those two seconds and 6 hugs and kisses. And the math of it is astounding.

My attempts + my weariness – my failings / God’s forgiveness and grace = infinite love

Or something like that. I don’t really want to do math here. That’s not my thing. But I know you get it, because you are a mom. And we get those little moments. And then we write about them in our millions of mom posts.

A million mom march.

Even though we are so weary.

March on, mommas.