Dear God,

I need to talk to you. I’m losing my patience…again. These little bundles of joy that I cherish and adore, that I would give my own life for without question or reserve of any kind, that I love unconditionally and with all my heart, they are driving me absolutely, certifiably crazy. We are just trying to leave the house on time - how can it be this hard to get out of our house on time?! - and I’m becoming a crazy person. So, God, if you could help me out today with this one little thing, I think it would make me less crazy, even for a few minutes. And for the sake of my husband, my children and the drive-thru barista we most certainly need to stop and see this morning, I need to be less crazy.  

Would you mind helping my daughter to go potty, like, all in one sitting? If just this once I could help her get her little pink leggings off and she could let it all out at one time, that would be great. You see, it is getting a teensy bit exhausting taking shoes and pants off four times in four minutes, and I’m really thinking once is enough for all of us so if you could just help us with that, I would be so thankful.

And the little man, if he must have another blowout this morning, maybe you could help me to figure it out slightly before I pick him up and rest him on my own hip to get his carseat ready? Because we are really in a bit of a rush and I have my slimming yoga pants on today, the ones that pull comfortably over the eight pounds of love handles I still have not lost. I’m just in no mood to change into jeans. Today is not a jean day.  

Oh and the snacks - the snacks! Any way you can make my precious little girl remember that she just ate breakfast and she will not starve to death without a fruit snack at 8:45am? If it is possible for her to not act like all the dreams of her life hinge on the yes or no to the fruit snack question, ahh, that would just ease the stress immensely. And maybe, as I fill up a water bottle for her, could I throw in a request for her to be absolutely ok with the yellow sippy cup and not the pink one sitting in the sink with breakfast’s left over warm milk in it? Because dishes I cannot do right now. She needs to go potty again. 

God, would you help everyone to leave their socks on, to be thankful for the red coat—because I have no idea where the blue one is—and to stop pulling the hair ties out? And as we walk down the stairs and out to the car, would you mind blinding those little eyes to the many distractions that may tempt them to stop and stall along the way? Because we don’t have time to color Olaf or watch Daniel Tiger and for the love, it is snowing outside, we cannot take a spin in the Barbie jeep, we cannot. 

We are trying to leave the house.

And could you be so kind to give this mama a supernatural ability to remember things? All the things. There is so much I need to remember! Bottle, formula, extra diapers, change of clothes—for everyone—water, puffs, cell phone, blanket, fruit snacks—of course, fruit snacks—and wipes. And should I forget the wipes as I often do, please allow my friends to have extras today.

As we finally get in the car, three people safely buckled in, enough provisions for an army even though it just has to last us until 11:30am, remind me to take a deep breath, then turn around and smile at those little blondies. Because one day, they will grab their own car keys and leave the house. No one will need me for the potty or snacks or for tying little shoes, and I will miss this desperately. And I won’t be praying anymore for patience, I’ll be praying for more time, for a few more hurried mornings and six trips back inside the house for a purse, a stuffed animal, a missing shoe. And as I look at those little faces, help me to just for a moment, savor this. 

And then, God, bless me with more patience, because the engine is started, and she has to go potty again.    

Written by Katie Blackburn. Photo by Kirsten Huculiak.