One hard thing about having responsibilities

This morning I struggled to get out of bed. The kind of struggle that has you rolling back and forth eyeing the clock ticking away but then hiding from it for an extra few minutes, pretending to push pause. It wasn't the prettiest. (But to be honest, not my ugliest either.) And I thought from the moment my feet hit the soft blue rug under my bed that the day was going to be an absolute disaster due to my complete lack of motivation to leave my sheets.

But it wasn't, and that surprised me. I said goodbye to my brother and Evan just before breakfast and immediately set to work emptying cupboards, the pantry, my fridge, and my garage. I felt an immediate need to purge things, and I did for about 5 hours. The sun was shining when I swept the final pile of dirt into the trash from the garage, and I wished so much that I was running under that sunshine and not cleaning the garage, even though I did feel quite satisfied with how much I had done based on my morning wakeup routine.

But then I remembered the girls were running around the yard, a neighbor boy was playing inside with Timmy, and Tim wasn't due home from work for awhile, and that run would never happen. And my heart went from happy to angry in seconds, which admittedly happens as a mom from time to time because here's the thing, I talk a lot about sacrifice and stretching myself, and for the most part I am happy and willing to do it because I've seen the fruits of those offerings, but there are moments where I just want to be selfish, and for example, run under a warm winter sun.

By the time the neighbor boy left and Tim arrived home, the sun was tucked behind grey clouds and the warm air had chilled. And that anger grew. I only wanted one thing for myself, and it didn't happen because I have responsibilities.

So that's perhaps one really hard part of parenting--giving up something (even as silly as a run) because you need to remain committed to the people who need you. I suppose you don't really need to be just a parent to experience this. It can happen in any relationship.

But it's hard. And I got really mad there for about an hour. My insides felt dark, and my eyes felt like burning laser beams at all the screaming kids in the house. But then, as it most often does, that feeling faded with time. After about an hour, I finished dinner next to Tim and even managed to eek out a smile at him, which told me everything was going to be okay.