4.11.2014

Five Minute Friday: Paint

Every week, a whole heap of fabulous women get together and write for Five Minute Friday. Today's prompt is...

Paint

Go.

We're all artists if you think about it. We all paint the picture we want others to see, whether it's family or friends or those in the community. But we do it, because sometimes we just don't want to let others in. We do it because our own reality seems too hard to let others see. We brush strokes of perfect careers, of perfect children, of perfect lives.

We went out for lunch today. I've had a bit of a rough winter, and I'm trying to be less serious, more spontaneous, trying to remember what childhood is all about. And Mr. C. had already napped in the car this morning, so I knew he wasn't going to nap again today.





So we went. And they were so good. So sweet. So well behaved. I'm sure I had some sort of smug look on my face. I was so proud. But wasn't it just a facade? Wasn't it me just hiding the fact that I haven't slept in days? Or that Miss E had a 45 minute tantrum this morning because I had asked her to go downstairs to get her shoes on (the horror), making us late to school?

And then, after we had played in the little play house, as I silently nodded to myself, you're such a good mom, someone landed on someone in the tube slide. There was crying and shrieking. Mommy saying we have to go. MIss E throwing a fit because she wants ice cream. Then really throwing a fit because I say no.

Paint splattered all over Chick-Fil-A. A mess of my emotions. Of my patience. Of my fear of judgment and loss of control. Of everything. Spilled all over the floor. And as it happened, our lives became more exposed for what they really are. Our beautiful composition revealing its true colors. A momma who is tired, just trying to get through this day, praying to our sweet Lord for more than a few hours of sleep, for the patience I don't have.

As we drive away, I'm able to take a breath. To look in the rearview mirror, tantrums subsided. The beautiful illustration of our lives, one paint stroke at a time in refreshing, vibrant new colors.

Stop.

Until next time,
Mrs. Kuda


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