I’m Tired, But I’m Not Ready—And I Think God Gets That

Let me set the scene for you: The washer is on its fourth “re-wash” cycle because I forgot to flip the clothes. Again. There are dishes in the sink, the “good snacks” have mysteriously vanished, and I’m 95% sure the pile of clothes on the chair is actually clean… but at this point, I’m just gonna wash it again to be safe.

Tyler fractured his leg (because obviously, why not?), and we’re navigating crutches, a brace, and the delicate art of him not trying to do all the things he normally does.

The kids? They’re loud. And I don’t mean cute-little-giggles loud. I mean arguing-singing-yelling-"MOM WATCH THIS!" on a 24/7 loop loud.

I’m trying to keep up with back-to-school prep. I’m also trying to squeeze out every last drop of summer fun like some kind of memories-overload lemonade stand. Meanwhile, the house is a disaster and I don’t remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t from a drive-thru or a crust off a kid plate.

So yeah. I’m tired.

But weirdly…I’m also not ready.

Here’s the weird middle I’m stuck in:

I need the routine. I need the school schedule. I need silence. I need someone else to remind them to put on both socks and not just one.

But I’m also not ready to let this go.

Not the sticky popsicle kisses. Not the barefoot mornings. Not the staying in pajamas all day. Not the moments where time actually feels slow—even if everything else is moving fast and loud and sideways.

I’m somewhere between screaming “I NEED A BREAK” and whispering “Please don’t grow up yet.”

And I think that tension? That strange, overstimulated, full-hearted exhaustion?

I think God gets it.

This season isn’t just chaos. It’s special.

Not because I’m crushing it. (Spoiler: I’m not.) But because I keep showing up anyway.

And maybe that’s the point.

Because motherhood in this season looks like:

• Cold cups of hot tea and hot messes

• Unfolded laundry and halfway prayers

• Teaching kindness when you feel tapped out

• Trying to model patience when yours is dangling by a thread

• Creating core memories in the middle of emotional meltdowns and ant invasions

It’s loud. It’s messy. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

But it’s ours.

I read this verse the other night (after the fourth bedtime water cup request):

“My flesh and my heart may fail,but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”— Psalm 73:26

And honestly?

Same, David. Same.

Because my flesh and heart are definitely failing a little right now. So is my patience. And my meal plan. And my ability to remember where I put anything ever.

But God? He’s still showing up with strength I didn’t muster and peace I didn’t earn.

He doesn’t need me to be put together. He just needs me to come.

So if you're in this too…

If you’re counting down to the first day of school but also clinging to the sweetness of these last summer days...If you’re praying for patience and also hiding in the pantry eating cookies...If your house is loud, your heart is worn thin, and your brain is mostly made of fruit snacks and grace...

You’re not alone. You’re not doing it wrong. You’re just human. A really tired, really loving human doing your best.

And the best part?

He’s not tired of you. Even when you’re tired of everything.

💛 Need a little reminder?

Here is a free printable Scripture card just for this season. It says:

“He’s not tired of you. Even when you’re tired of everything.”

Print it. Tape it to your fridge. Put it in your Bible. Stick it next to your laundry pile if that’s where you hang out the most.

Click here to download it

And just in case you need to hear it again:

• You’re not behind.

• You’re not failing.

• You’re raising tiny humans in a really wild world—and God sees you.

  
  

Go ahead. Cry in the pantry. Say the prayer. Start the washer again. And know that He’s still right there—right in the middle of the mess.