Panic On Aisle 4

I was at Target yesterday. Not your average sized Target. But, a big one. With an elevator. We were on the 2nd floor. We'd been looking at the toys. It was time to go downstairs. We all gathered at the elevator. I had let Brenton walk. He is 2 after all and thinks he's pretty big stuff. He usually does a good job staying with me. We loaded the elevator. My kids. My friend. Her 3 kids. Off we go. We start walking around downstairs and all of a sudden, she notices there is no Brenton. "Where's Brenton??" she asks. I panicked. Ran to the elevators and saw no sign of him. Freaking out at this point, I went running towards the escalators and a Target employee stopped me and asked if I was missing a little boy in a green sweatshirt. Apparently, she could see the fear on my face. Thankfully, the fantastic employees at Target had found my little boy. In the toys. Sweating. Shaking. Tearing up. I thanked them profusely and squeezed my boy tighter than ever. I cannot imagine if I had lost him.

I wasn't paying attention. I was having a good time visiting. I lost my baby. It only took a moment.

I'm having a hard time focusing these days. I'm tired. Overwhelmed. Feeling like I'm barely keeping my head above the water. Someone asked me at church on Sunday how I do it. How do I function with 5 kids. God gets me through. That's it. If I were on my own, I'd have lost it long ago. Even with God, I still feel like most days are spent surviving. I know this is just a season. I know it won't always be this way.

I love where my children are in life. I love having a baby still... I guess he's not really a baby. His older brother was his same age when Jack was born and I thought he was huge. And responsible. Now, Brenton is 2. He's still my baby. I'm sure he'll always be my baby.

I love having Jack and Ella home. That is, when I actually get to enjoy them. When I'm not trying to get something else done. It's such a battle.

I miss my boys when they are at school. I get so excited when they walk through the door at the end of the day. I love their hugs. I miss their voices.

And yet, as much as I love it, I find myself looking forward to the future. No more diapers at some point. All the kids in school. Peace. Quiet. I'm pretty sure it's all rosy sunshine in my head and not reality. I'm sure my friends whose kids are all in school will tell me otherwise.

I pray for peace. For my head to quit spinning. For the last month or so, whenever I sit down to read, I cannot focus. I read the same lines. Over and over. Nothing is getting in there. I pray and have to focus so that my mind does not stray. I lay in bed at night. Rehashing the day's events and planning the next day. Of course, the perfect plan in my head rarely happens. In fact, it's usually forgotten by the time I wake up. Yet, I still plan. Every night.

I find myself losing focus in all I do. Running up the stairs. And down. Mid sentence. Mid project.

We were laughing the other night. I was having a hard time falling asleep and Cory told me to go to my "nothing box". If you've ever heard Mark Gungor speak, you know what I'm talking about. The place, for men, that actually exists. The place where they go to think of nothing. I responded by saying that whenever I go looking for my nothing box I always get distracted and open other boxes along the way. He responded by saying, "just like in real life..." Yep. That's me.

I'm praying this is just a season. That I won't always be this scattered. I haven't always been this scattered. It won't stay. Right?

So, hear I sit. Yet again. Clinging. Holding tight. Praying.

And because this hasn't been the most uplifting of posts, I'll end it with a funny. An embarrassing funny. A funny that I shouldn't share, but I have to...

As I got out of the shower today and walked towards my closet, Ella said from behind me, "Mama, why is your bottom shaking??" Nice. Thank you sweet girl.