top of page

Just another morning

Chassia Thau


Bam.


It hurt a lot. The kind of pain that brought on a fountain of tears who held themselves back before they were about to rain down my cheeks.


My alarm woke me at 6:30. I quickly snoozed it to gain another 10 peaceful, cozy dark moments before I took on the new day. Thank you Hashem, baby is still asleep and a precious 3 year old is fast asleep on my bedroom floor. I’ve tried reasoning with him, understanding this deep desire to be on my floor rather than his adorable toddler bed, but it just goes back to the same “I like your floor mommy”. Sure, no problem. Honestly though, I’m ok with it.


I tiptoe out of my room to wake two beautiful boys and get them ready for the bus, secretly praying that by the time they leave no one else will have woken and I’ll be able to crawl back into bed (spoiler: that didn’t happen).


I’m reminded of my interaction at the park the other week. A friend shared how hard it is for her to get to bed early, being that she’s a night owl. Nope, not me I’m thinking. I fall asleep with my children leaving all the mess (minus the leftover dinner food) for my care in the morning. She said she doesn't even understand those mothers who wake up and do laundry and cook. I laughed, and told her that’s exactly me. Up like a lion (or lioness), I can do so much and so quickly in the morning. Know what you can do, when you can do it, guilt and comparison free.


So there I was switching a load of laundry as I picked up my head and hit it against the door post hard. Like really really hard. 


I’m pretty sure I saw black, and my head went spinning. I stood there for a few minutes taking many needed deep breaths, and learned a few very important lessons in that very moment. 


When children get hurt, it really, really hurts. 


Don’t push myself to do anything right now. Just stand here in pain until I’m ready to move on.


The next few minutes of my morning need to be spent recovering, don’t try to push away the pain.


So my boys found me on the couch, boo boo bag (a sock filled with rice) on my head, as I rested away the pain.


Of course just then the adorable I-love-your-floor boy woke up and within minutes got his tricycle and helmet to continue his pizza motorcycle game from last night.


As I slowly get up from the couch, I’m mentally planning my day in my mind. Book appointments, figure out some bureaucratic stuff, make plans for the bored children who will be home before I can get any of it done…and the list goes on.


Coffee first. Thank you Hashem for the Nespresso machine. A true true gift to motherhood (ok, and humanity). 


And that’s when it happens. They start jumping out at me, threatening to destroy my peaceful paced morning with a big bump on my head. Who?


All the various magnets on the fridge that aren’t lined up and make it look like a mess.

The spoon that almost made it into the garbage but didn’t.

The pile of laundry on the floor that didn’t make it to the laundry room.

The playmobil man lying innocently in the hallway. 

The white shirts that are hanging to dry in the office because I didn’t hang them on the drying rack yesterday. 

The dirty bouncer seat I keep meaning to clean.

The sink full of dishes that smell like too much milk from almost finished coffees.


All these little guys, they jump out at me and scream together “dysfunctional”. 


If you know, you know.


And they have a language, they speak together, echoing throughout the house. 


Maybe you need a new laundry system.

Maybe you need more cleaning help.

Maybe you should get your kids to cleanup more.


Maybe maybe maybe.


5 deep breaths is all it takes. Everyone quiets down quickly as I shift my focus to my coffee, my son currently watching the trucks working outside, and the still quiet house.


This is a moment, I think to myself. A moment that happens to me more often than I wish to admit and probably just as often as everyone else. 

When our mind can find so many ways to put us down, and we remind it that we’re ok. More than ok. 

Blessed, so so very blessed. 

Those inner voices (brought up by playmobil people) will spill over later today if not tended to.

They may turn into yelling over spilled milk (literally) or frustrated when a child gets hurt (gasp, I said it). 


So I look around at all the beauty called a functioning home. I remind myself it’s here to serve me, and I need not to serve it. My home is doing a beautiful job hosting a family. 


I slowly walk through my morning routine, while everyone is still asleep, and the trucks are still being watched to take a few moments to document the ever so normal, absolutely nothing special morning that has hidden within it so many treasures.




49 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

You matter

Commenti


Don't be shy!

I'd love to hear from you!

And yes, I personally am checking your emails and replying to them.

I'll get to it tonight when the house is quiet, or maybe with my morning coffee.

Thank you for reaching out! I'll get back to you as soon as I can!

© 2023 @Chassiathau

bottom of page