A few weeks ago, Charlotte had a rough night. I think we were up every hour or so. Since my husband gets up with Matthew, I was ignoring the clock and just trying to sleep and nurse at the same time. When I finally looked at the clock, it was just after 8 and we needed to be at church at 9.
I begrudingly got out of bed and went to the coffee pot. Empty.
“You didn’t make coffee this morning?” I growled at my husband. After all, he always makes the coffee.
“No, there was a little left over so I just heated it up.”
I’m sure I muttered something snarky and then tried to make coffee without opening my eyes all the way. I’m terrible at math, and therefore usually protest making coffee (I mean seriously, who the heck wrote the directions: 3/4 C water for each tablespoon of grounds, but you measure the water in the carafe by cups, so I am some how supposed to divide cups by tablespoons, carry the one and grrrrr… why don’t we have a Kurig!?). I yelled something about how tired I was and forget that stupid coffee any way, we were going to be late (which by the way, meant “can you please do it sweet darling husband?”)
Being late is the worst thing in the world to me, and to church? You may as well just die.
We hurry to get the kids ready and the diaper bag packed, don’t forget a sippy, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t say anything to my husband except a rude command on which shoes Matthew needed.
Once we were in the car, my husband asked if I was hungry.
Of course I was hungry, I’m in the insatiable garbage disposal of breastfeeding calories right now and I hadn’t had breakfast. So, I snapped yes.
Then he said he wanted to drive thru McDonald’s. (ew) I told him we were already ten minutes late.
He said he would rather be late than hungry. It didn’t sound like a question to me, so I held my opinion in and pouted. In the drive thru line, he asked what I wanted.
“I. Just. Want. Coffee.” I lied. I really wanted food. Lots of it. But I was protesting.
“When we get to church, I’m staying the car.” I quipped. No response.
“Are you in a bad mood because I am?” I asked.
“Yes.” he answered. Oh how that made my blood boil. Must have been hard for him, you know, that full 8 hours of sleep. So sad to have all that time playing cars on the floor with our son. Poor you.
He got himself and Matthew out of the car and into church with little to no words from me. I took Charlotte out of her car seat and brought her into the front seat with me.
I looked at the clock. Church is only 90 minutes long, and we were 30 minutes into it. I think I spent the next 30 minutes feeling sorry for myself and being angry, jealous and spiteful at my husband because I do all the hard parenting.
Then… I felt it. What was this feeling… shame? I have nothing to be ashamed about. My feelings are justified. I was TIRED.
You know, the least he could have done was make the coffee! You know what they say, “If momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” He NEEDS to make me happy. It’s his fault we’re all grumpy this morning.
Wait, what’s this… the Holy Spirit tap-tap-tapping me and saying “Um, did you ever consider that maybe that saying means something else? Like maybe if momma doesn’t get it together then the rest of her house suffers.”
Grrr. I hate it when He’s right.
I was embarrassed. I acted like a child. And my sweet, forgiving and graceful husband (loving me like Christ loves the church) did not respond to my snarky attitude, did not turn my spark into a fire, he just let me work it out. And left me in the car with a coffee, some hashbrowns and my bad attitude.
When he came back to the car, I asked my husband to forgive me and he did. Our day was much nicer and I realized I had overcome the sleeplessness that plagues all mothers. The secret isn’t to get more sleep… it’s to get a better attitude. Sleep is NOT what we need to get through the day (neither is coffee, no matter how good it is!).
I learned that when I stop seeing sleep as my strength, as my idol, my attitude is much better during the day.
Charlotte still is not the best sleeper, and most nights I don’t sleep more than 45 min to an hour at a time. But it’s okay, it’s a short time in a long life and I can choose to be happy… because when Momma is happy… everyone is happy.