There are times when this whole motherhood journey seems like one big lesson in failing gracefully. Those days when the too-early wake up call is followed by an endless series of meltdown over clothes that are invisibly too tight and the wrong choices for breakfast. When the daily daycare drop-off takes ten extra minutes of prying your toddler off your leg (when you know she is all smiles and “big helper” the second you walk out the door), followed by the dreaded mid-afternoon phone call asking you to come take your child to the doctor because she might need stitches in her lip.
Because of yet another tantrum.
My prayers in the midst of those days aren’t long, eloquent, deep prayers. There are no fancy words or thoughts worth blogging about. They are simple, motherhood-survival prayers, and I sometimes wonder if they matter.