Yes, my laundry is piled to the ceiling. Give me a break.
Yes, I have twenty plates spinning and a few will surely fall. Give me a break.
Give me a break… give yourself a break… give your family a break. I think we are all too hard on ourselves and others.
This life is busy and hard and emotional and weird and crazy and funny and sad and everything in between. But it’s OK. Give yourself a break. The dishes and laundry will wait. But you only have an 11-year-old son with no clean underwear for a little while. And it does absolutely no good to come unglued on him when he asks you about it because you feel overwhelmed and ashamed because you are not super Mom and you cannot possibly get everything done that you want to do or you feel burdened to do.
I woke my little boy up this morning with an apology. He mumbled, “That’s OK, Mom.” I told him I loved him twice as he walked out the door to school. I asked God to forgive me. And then I moved on. And then I spilled gasoline on my jeans at Quick Trip. And then I drove through Starbuck’s for a coffee the size of my head. And then I moved on.
Give yourself a break and move on. Are there really any other more appealing options?