One Cup of Juice, My Straw

Caroline Godin illustrates one night with its weighty stressors and one lone juice cup that set her off. 

Have kids, they said. It’ll be fun. 

That’s not how God put it. He said multiply (Genesis 1:28), nothing about fun. In fact, there was something about working the land and laboring through childbearing. 

And so we do. 

I got this 

No one said this is easy. Some days feel downright impossible. 

My parents are aging, appointments increasing, heads confused, and I’m the go-to child. It’s cool. Everyone’s cool. I got this. 

Hubs works overnights so we schedule everything. House projects are half started and partially paid. Don’t want to stress him. He’s always tired. Me too, but I’m supportive. It’s fine. I got this. 

The little one is a bundle of me-me-me, spoiled, and emotional, but super cute and quite smart for six. He’s cool. I have him under control, mostly. I got this. 

My middle kid fights depression and an affinity for staring blankly at the ceiling when not lost in the vacuum of his phone. He’s my defender when he’s conscience of the world and not playing sports. He’s getting better, except for homework. Then he falls into a pit of despair. We’re working on it. He’s fine. I got this. 

My daughter is spurts of responsibility, ordering her brothers around, and creating tasks that never existed. She masters poor self-talk and drastic negativity. She’s at once brilliant, artistic, reliable, and stressed with guilt, self-judging, and temperamental. She’s coming around though. She’ll grow out of it. I think she tells me things. We’re getting better. I got this. 

I work multiple jobs — yay, freelancing — but make time for me, sort of. Got the hearing aids. Saw the podiatrist. Planning on foot (feet?) surgery … eventually. Oh, but kidney stones again. Taking care of that soon, but not until after the martial arts test. That’s soon. I’m not ready. Training isn’t great. But I have to be ready. Workouts will stop soon. Getting back to this will take longer, right? Right? I got this? 

I don’t got this 

Training is frustrating. One teen is dealing with drama. My parents are confused, not taking their meds, and driving when they shouldn’t. Another teen is zombified. Hubs has to work. Dinner is leftovers … I’m so hungry now … it’s late … 

“Can you make me a plate?” 

Sure. You’ve been doing nothing while I showered. 

“Go check on [kid #2] …” He’s been in his room. 

Sure, dinner can wait. 

Cat tripping me. 

“Get the door, hun?” 

Sure, babe, you’re racing to work. Drive safely. 

Cat tripping me. 

Tells boy to get downstairs. 

“Make me a plate of dinner?” 

Cat. 

Homework. 

Food. 

Hunger. 

Where’s the leftovers … 

The juice cup 

There it was, nearly by itself on a miraculously clean table (because I just cleaned it yesterday). One, lone, juice cup. It was left out by my hubs, not his fault. He’s tired working nights. He’s been tired for 16 years. I mean, me too but, at least I sleep at night, eventually. He didn’t mean to miss it cleaning up after the little guy. One cup. 

But it wasn’t a cup. It was a straw. You know, the last one. 

I was done. D-U-N. 

Then it happened. I lost it. I’m not proud but that’s what happened. Just the teens and the cat bore the tantrum, but there it was. I blew up. Something about doing homework and getting your own pizza. I heated my food and went to my office. 

I needed a time-out. 

God’s got this 

I prayed to Saint Monica, the patron of mothers. I prayed to Saint John Bosco, the patron of youth. I prayed to the Blessed Mother. I need her something fierce. 

I remember that even Elijah needed some food and a nap to feel better (1 Kings 19:4-8). 

It’s not really me who has to solve all the things. God’s got this. I’m just along for the ride. 

Deep breath, mama. Deep breath. 

And eat. I always feel better when I eat. 

And pray. 

And sleep (Matthew 11:28). 

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Copyright 2024 Caroline Godin
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