Hard Times

Hey sweetheart.
I want to tell you about Sunday.
I'm currently in the Relief Society Presidency at church, so Sundays are generally pretty busy. Normally, Dad and I are able to tag-team to get different things done while loving and entertaining you, but with him in Virginia still, it's a bit of a different story.
Sunday morning, I woke up at 5:00 am to get ready, finish the work I had procrastinated, and organize/pack everything for the day before you woke up. Eventually, I heard you talking in your crib; your little voice sounded sad. You're teething right now, so it's understandable. Luckily you're not really a crier, but when you're unhappy, you use a whiny, grumpy voice. (Makes me laugh 90% of the time, you're just so cute).
You kicked and squirmed while I tried to quickly get your dress on. You had little to no interest in breakfast. I put you down while I tried to load the car, and you started screaming as if I was going to leave there alone for the rest of the day. I raced as fast as I could, got everything set, and buckled you in your car seat. Still grumpy. Still sad.
Then, just like every Sunday, I remembered something I forgot.
Ran upstairs, got my glasses.
Ran back upstairs, got your pacifier.
Ran back upstairs, grabbed a blanket for you.
Ran back upstairs, got your favorite book.
Finally, we're both in the car, on our way. I had planned everything out to get there early so I could work on some things, but clearly, those extra minutes were now gone.
We arrived. I had to bring in your stroller because to carry you, the diaper bag, and the four binders I bring each week is, simply put, a death wish.
Fast forward through three hours of wrestling, coaxing, working, talking, listening, praying, reading, rereading, and writing, and we're on our way home. You screamed the majority of the way due to no nap, and sore gums.
When I pulled into the garage, I heard you calmly exhale, as if you knew we were home. I picked you up, and you instantly fell asleep on my shoulder.
I carried you upstairs, hugged you tight for a moment, and quietly transferred you to your crib.
Then, I walked downstairs, sat down, and cried.
I missed Daddy.
I felt guilty for losing my patience with you.
I wasn't able to complete a task I had been given.
I felt I didn't discover a spiritual answer that I longed for.
I was physically and emotionally spent.

Why do I want to share this with you?

If you're anything like me, you're going to feel like a walking disaster most of the time.
Like you're a step behind all the real grownups around you.
As you catch each new thing thrown at you, you drop two others.
That you're trying so hard, but it's all for naught.

I want you to know that it's ok.
I need you to know that it's ok.

No aspect of your life will ever be perfect. There will always be failure; there will always be disappointment.
That doesn't mean you're a failure. Doesn't mean you're a disappointment.
It means you're going to experience a lot of good, bad, and ugly in your life, and your reaction to it all is what cultivates identity.

So choose now how you'll react, and who you'll create.

[[And just for the record, it's totally OK to cry sometimes]]


In other news, you woke up about 15 minutes ago, and you've been trying SO HARD to type something since you came in here, so...here ya go..

l lh  uj uyht gy vjynthgbgtrglnpgbiooijiyunyuh hluulz
 fgbteybtgf5tbr
-Sadie, 9 mos

You woke up in the funniest mood, you've honestly been laughing so hard since you've joined me in here. I just look at you, and you die. You're the happiest baby alive!

Time for dinner and long walk.

xo//xo
mommy