Broken Record

The last post I wrote was last August. About my walk with God and how it hasn't been a priority in my life. Well it's now May and I sit in the same spot. Actually maybe further from where I was because occasionally I feel the pull to get closer to Christ and instead choose to play some version candy crush or eat some more chocolate. Or binge watch my newest obsession. Which recently was re-reading and then re-watching all of the Harry Potter books and movies.

Yesterday Matthew and I went to kindergarten round up. He struggled on his little test with the teacher, who was cute and younger mind you, something that makes Matthew zip his usually chatty mouth. He did what I expected. He couldn't say his ABCs, count to 10, or do all of his colors in the presence of this beautiful lady. He's such a boy. I know this. But insert mom guilt.

Have I made the wrong choice not doing preschool? How is he going to go to school 5 days a week when he hasn't had to go at all? Doesn't our society demand too much learning on our kids too young now a days? Should we home school after all? Am I capable enough to home school if he doesn't even know those mere basics in front of pretty ladies?

Or how about this past Monday when we went to the dentist, which I knew it had been awhile. I'm a self titled slacker mom. It's been over a year, maybe closer to 2. I'm learning I am a person that has to have a dental appointment on the calendar set up early or it doesn't happen time gets away from me. But alas, this dental appointment pushed in those "bad mom fangs". And I've been having a hard time extracting them from my thoughts and heart. Not only will my son likely be a toothless wonder with all four front teeth missing for his first day of school but he also doesn't know his ABCs.

This anxiety and self-doubt isn't about Matthew. I know he is smart. He's fun. He's loving. As others say to sum it up, "He's a hoot!" I don't know a person that has met Matthew that hasn't fallen in love with who he is in a whole. And that means I'm not a bad mom.

Add all of these crazy feeling up with the fact that the ugly day of Mother's day is coming up and all the mixed emotions that my heart feels towards this day. And that my period is taking it's sweet ass time to get here. Hormones talking, don't mind me. It leave me wallowing in self-pity once more.

Tears in my eyes, thinking to myself, "Maybe I'm a bad mom and that's why God hasn't allowed us to have more babies." There I said it. Logically I know this isn't true. God give babies to crack addicts and child molesters, which I assure you I'm clearly neither of these. But I may have had the thought of being a real life baby snatcher to one of these types of parents.

So here I am, Matthew is 4.5 years old. James and I have been married for almost 8 years. And here I sit on the couch tearing up over thinking I'm a bad mom. I'm 60 lbs heavier than when I got pregnant with Matthew and struggling to find truth. I turn off the TV and do something I haven't done in quite sometime. Turn up the worship, open up my Bible app and read. Asking God to show me the real truth.

The verse of the day is Hebrews 11:1, "Faith shows the reality of what we hope for, it is the evidence of things we cannot see." I smiled a little and knew the it was what I needed today. I read Chapter 11. The chapter on great faith. Something I have been lacking lately.

Spattered among the great giants of our faith were verses I had previously highlighted. Words that spoke truth to me and took me away from the edge that I was teetering on labeling me a parenting failure. My eyes have not been on Christ. So I, like a broken record, am at the same spot I have been for a few years now off and on. Trying to clear the brambles in the way of the unkempt path that is my walk with Christ.