Yesterday a fellow blogger and Navy wife celebrated her 31st birthday – HAPPY BIRTHDAY! She also eloquently penned a very moving, honest, & insightful post about her thoughts surrounding the occasion. Her writing really struck an emotional chord for me, and I know that it will do the same for many others who read it. So today, with her permission of course, I want to share her story. You all can check out more of her musings at Stumbling Barefoot… Enjoy. 🙂
Tomorrow is my birthday.
The standard milspouse line for a birthday when one’s spouse is away is, “As Military Spouses we know that a day is just a day and that we can celebrate special days at our own time in our own way.”
But, as we’ve already established I’m just not doing so well with saying the lines on my milspouse script this time around.
Tomorrow is my birthday and my husband says that since it’s my party, I can cry if I want to.
My kids… My amazing, amazing kids have been cooking things up for the last few days. I will get sweet, sweet little cards tomorrow that they have poured their hearts into. And it will melt my heart and it will make tomorrow precious in spite of it all. How do I dare complain in the face of such sweetness?
But this Mama is tired… Just so tired. Of doing it all, of being the Mom and the Dad. Of trying to find some time, any time, to get the housework done, but still always being behind. Of getting the house in order only to find it falling down around my ears a few minutes later. Of parenting on fumes and trying so hard not to yell but finding myself hoarse again. Of waiting for test results and answers. Of planning for contingencies and unforeseen scenarios. Of telling the kids for the 2000th time at 11 p.m. at night that they must, they must, THEY MUST GO TO SLEEP RIGHT NOW.
This Mama is tired.
My birthday is tomorrow and I never grew up all the way. I’m just an overgrown five year old really. I want the party and the balloons. I want to be celebrated. And there is a little spoiled brat inside of me warring and screaming that tomorrow just won’t be as special as I want it to be. As it should be. I turn 31 tomorrow and I want to feel good about it, but what I really feel is just…
That’s what it comes down to.
What I really want tomorrow is him. I want him next to me, doing this with me. I want him to sing off key with the girls and to bake me a cake and decorate it better than I ever could. I want help wiping down the table and sweeping up the kitchen and the one person in the world who tells me that I am cherished and makes me believe it to be here to do just that tomorrow.
That’s what I want for my birthday, and I know I can’t have it.
I have to park my brain in better places than this, and I know it.
I’m trying to call my eyes and my heart to the abundance of love that God is showering upon me and the ways that he woos and celebrates me every day. Through my kids and their pint-sized bodies and grandiose birthday overtures… Through reminders that have been flashing over and over again of “My” verse. Through him calling my mind back to the points in time when I have felt the most cherished by Him.
And it is in those moments that I will fight to stay and that I will try to cling to tomorrow.
I’d be lying though if I told you it wasn’t going to be a battle to keep my mind there.
This mama is tired and this road is wearying and long and I’m 31 tomorrow and baking my own cake.
His mercies are new every morning and the dawn of my 31st year will surely be no different, if I can keep my eyes open and my brain parked in his pastures of plenty.
P.S. I have great hopes that eventually this blog will again become something other than a deployment whine fest. Really.