You may look at that first picture and think, "Oh my what a cute little babe!" You may even look at the second picture, throw your head back in laughter, and think, "Oh my what a cute, funny, little babe!"
These were pictures from bath-time yesterday, and yesterday I would have 100%, without-a-doubt disagreed with you. Yesterday, I did not think Reese was too cute. Not too cute at all. (Okay maybe for just part of the day, but if you caught me at that certain, particular, hellish time of day...she was not being cute.)
Let me explain.
Sunday mornings are my favorite. We get to sleep in, and Todd doesn't have to go to work. We eat a yummy breakfast together, and I soak up
This process is nothing new, as we've had this time of church for the whole year. There's always the struggle, but I feel like the pain of the struggle has lessened tremendously because my arms have gradually built up strength to the point where I can hold her while she's flailing. And she's no lightweight. But for some reason, Roni decided to really give me a run for my money this Sunday.
First let's talk about my attire. Which was probably the culprit that multiplied my frustration times infinity. Pencil skirt, tucked in blouse, teardrop necklace, and pointy high heels (from the single and ready to mingle days). Let's go through each item of clothing and why it posed an incredible threat to my sanity. The pencil skirt: sweaty, sweaty, sweaty (I swear the heat was cranked in church). The blouse: kept coming untucked...all. day. long. The teardrop necklace: biggest mistake yet...grab after grab after grab. Never again! (Or at least until an adequate amount of time has passed for me to forget how hellish the grabbing was). Lastly...THE HEELS. Curse words, curse words, curse words. Heels that were not made for mothers who have to hold and rock their 21 pound baby to sleep. I repeat...never again! All of this compounded with the fact that Reese was freaking out, but not freaking out to the extent that I felt like I needed to leave the room. I was in over my head. And throughout this whole ordeal, I kept trying to maintain composure and pretend like I wasn't sweating my guts out.
Finally Reese ended up on a blanket on the floor in the hall of church trying to work through her wiggles and troubles. I ended up on the floor next to her. Barefoot, shirt untucked, necklace off, hair in a fat bun smack-dab on the top of my head, and is it ridiculous that it felt like this huge burden was lifted? I felt like I could breathe! Why didn't I do this sooner?
I don't know why I felt so stuck in that room. Like I had to stay for the lesson unless Reese was totally a basket case, only then would it be okay for me to leave. The real question was why the heck did I not kick my heels off, throw my hair in a bun, and untuck my blouse sooner? I would've been so much more comfortable!
I think I had another pivotal moment in this whole process as a momma. It is okay to not have it together. It is okay to throw your hair up and kick off your heels. Because what it all comes down to is that little baby of yours and being yourself.
I came across a quote today that hit the nail right on the head about the attitude I should've had about Reese's escapade, her lack of sleep, and my total discomfort.
"Embrace the glorious mess that you are." (Elizabeth Gilbert)
Because we're all messes. And every mess is glorious. Crazy, beautiful, and glorious in our own way. I guess I'm just learning as I go folks, and I definitely learned a lot yesterday. Sorry for all the whining in this post, but I really feel like I hit a milestone as a mom yesterday. Cheers to being a work in progress!
XO, Ashton Tilton