Several people have asked me to update my blog. I know people want to know how things are going down here in New Mexico, but the truth is I don't know what to write about. I have started several new posts but never quite finish them because I just don't know what to say. There's so much. And I don't know what people really want to know.
But one thing about me is it's hard for me to not just be honest. I'm definitely a "bare your soul" kind of person. I don't do shallow or small talk very well. So, I'm just going to go with what is on my heart right now.
Moving is hard.
I knew it was going to be hard. I knew that Brad would be gone more hours so more responsibility would fall on me. I knew the kids would need to adjust just as much as we do. I knew that I would have to discover the best place to do my grocery shopping or which park is the coolest. I knew that it would take time to build friendships, especially the deep, soul-quenching type of friendships I crave so much. I knew it would be a while before Brad and I got to go out on a date just the two of us. I knew that not being able to go to my parents' house whenever I want would be really hard. I knew that not being able to throw the kids in the car on a bad day and walk around Target aimlessly would be hard.
But I didn't know it would be this hard. I don't think I could know because this goes beyond a knowledge and into the experience. The hardest part is parenting through all of this. My boys have handled this whole thing like troopers, but it has not been without its own bumps in the road. Whether it's just their own way of adjusting or their response to the lack of routine or even perhaps our own lack of discipline in the house, their behaviors have been very trying. And, if you recall, I am a recovering perfectionist, which makes it even worse. I put on myself this idea that I have to have perfect children so when they act out or act crazy I am doubly stressed. I feel like everyone is watching and judging, even if I've been given no reason to feel this way. And when you're the new girl, you already feel the pressure to impress. I have doubted my own parenting more in these past two months than ever before.
But I keep coming back to the same thing. This clip from one of my favorite movies, Mom's Night Out, sums it up perfectly. God did not make a mistake when he gave me my three little boys. He knew their personalities and struggles. He knew their strengths and weaknesses. And he knew that I would be the best mom for them. Most days I question whether God really knew what he was doing, but the truth is he did. And on those days when I question him, I am reminded that I do not have to do this alone. It is by his strength that I get through every day. He promises me enough for today. I may not have any left over at the end of the day, but I have enough for the day. And when I remember that I am not alone on this journey, he is always by my side I remember that I am going to make it through. We will come out of this. Some day, my children will stop throwing temper tantrums. Some day I will stop worrying about what all the other moms think of me. Some day, I will truly find my identity in Christ and who he made me to be rather than who I think everyone else wants me to be.
That's the thing about being a recovering perfectionist. You're always re-learning the same lesson. It's two steps forward and one step back, but in the end, you are not where you started.