The hardest thing I do each week when Andrew is gone is go to church. I realized that this morning, and for the first time in my LIFE I actually contemplated not going.
But I went. And I'd better get blessed for it, because at this point I don't feel like it was totally worth the effort. For real. I get there all hot and sweaty (and you all know how much I hate that) and I leave with blisters on my hands and elbow pits from carrying that blasted infant seat. My back and neck hurt. My face is flushed. I'm sick and tired of trying to be all nice and polite when really I just want to scream. And as I walk to the car, I want to cry every time thinking how much easier it is to have a husband around on Sundays.
(Side note: I LOVE how people ask me, "Isn't he a little big to be carrying him around in that thing?" I want to say, "Wow, I guess I never noticed that he is 20 pounds. Now that you mention it, I guess my back is killing me from carrying him around. Silly me. Thanks for pointing out my mistake." YES HE IS TOO BIG. But isn't it a little more convenient to have a place to put him when I'm playing human circus? Don't judge me, people. I'm just doing my best.)
Church is not an option. It never has been. I've always gone, and I always will, no matter what. (With the exception of contagious illness, of course.) But on days like today, it really tries my faith to go. It's not that I don't get anything out of it; I do. Thankfully, Leighton is typically well-behaved for all 3 hours, and Eva can't get enough of nursery now. It's not like I don't have the ability to sit and listen and feel the Spirit. But still, I am left wondering: is it worth it? Is what I'm getting out of it comparable to what I'm putting in?
It is such a relief to get home and put the kids down and have a little while to just BE. No mouths to feed, no cries to attend to, no high heels to totter around in while trying to look more composed than I feel.
Although I know that motherhood is the noblest of all callings in life, sometimes I just feel so...clumsy. And foolish. And totally NOT noble. Sometimes I long for the day when my kids - even the ones not born yet - can all walk and feed themselves. When mothering is not such an intensely physical and exhausting chore. They say I will look back and long for these days. But let me tell you, sister: I will NEVER long for single-mom Sundays.