A few years ago for two consecutive Christmas' my parents got me the Willow Tree nativity set. While it's been set out every year, this is our first Christmas in a house, and I love how it's been able to be properly displayed. It's big and it's on our front table so I get to walk by it all the time and look at the remarkable scene. My daughter, however has a problem with it. Not just it, she has a problem with any nativity that doesn't have a manger. In our nativity Mary is holding baby Jesus. My daughter says things like, "Don't they know the Bible says Jesus was laid in a manger?" and "Well, where's the manger? They really need to get a manger." While I love her zeal for Biblical accuracy, I have to admit I like it.
I love seeing Mary hold baby Jesus. There's something about the Savior of world in his mommy's arms that personalizes the Christmas story for me. They were real. She was a real woman who really had a baby. After having three kids I can't imagine having one in a stable with a man I hardly knew. I have to think in the middle of night when Mary was exhausted she rolled over and looked at the peacefully sleeping Joseph and said, "Yo, Joe! You want to walk the kid for a few minutes for me?" They were real people living in an extraordinary time, witnessing first-hand the stories we hear today.
I've always loved Christmas, but after hearing the same story year after year after year, it's easy to become numb to its meaning. This year I've been struck with this truth: Christmas was not merely Jesus coming as a baby, but it was God coming to Man. In that moment God became present and available to people in way that He had never been before. No more sacrifices or burning bushes. All that's needed to meet with God is to open my mouth and talk, to open my Bible and read.
I've been pondering this thought. With Christmas over, and New Year's around the corner, I'm trying to be proactive with this truth. The God of the universe is available to me. I can talk to Him, confide in Him, cry with Him, and rejoice in Him. He loves me! How can this truth influence my everyday life? I'm not really big into New Year's resolutions, but I think I'm going to make a list of goals for the next year for our family that try to reflect the every-present God in our lives.
I'm so thankful for the picture of Christmas, but I'm so much more thankful for what it means for my life.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Can The Bullets Stop?
Gun shots. Screams. Horror. Pain. Broken hearts. Heroes.
I've had a few days to take it all in. Of course I could never imagine kissing my child goodbye, dropping them off at school only for them to be gunned down and killed. As a parent, I know one main responsibility I feel to physically protect my children. How could you cope? How could you move? How could you breath? I ache for these families, and I pray the peace of God that transcends all understanding will be given to them, and that from this tragedy God will be glorified.
Meanwhile, society is stuck on three questions. How? Why? And, How can it be prevented from happening again? Everyone seems to have the answers. ABC news took two hot seconds before saying the infamous words "Gun Control".
More gun legislation.
Better mental health screening.
Metal detectors and armed cops at the doors of every school.
Let the teachers themselves be armed.
So many thoughts and suggestions get thrown out, and we as believes let and even engage ourselves in these conversations. I think we do this because we want it to be true. We want to believe that WE can fix this "problem". We want to believe one law can be passed and we will never have to witness this again. Oh how I myself wish that were true. (On the flip side, I do firmly believe giving up our civil liberties to the government will be far more dangerous to our children then the amount of guns on the streets. Taking away guns is only a hop, skip,and jump away from taking away our right to gather and worship.)The fact is hurt and anguish have been around as long as man, and with it comes a deep deep need to know the Savior. Why are we so afraid to offer this savior to a hurting world? Why am I so afraid?
In a society where violence and anger are everywhere, our government is bending over backwards to take morality out. This is not a gun issue, or video game issue, or school safety issue, this is a HEART issue. Yes, there are some things that we can and should do to practically help, but these are not a fix. It's like the "Chicago Band-aid". We lived in the city of Chicago for six years. One of the plagues of the city were giant pot holes that popped up every year. It seemed overnight one could quadruple in size. There were so many, the city couldn't fix them all fast enough. If a pot-hole got so big it could cause damage to cars, the city would bring a huge piece of steel and place it over the hole until it could be properly repaired. It was just a band-aid covering a problem not fixing it. All the laws that could be passed are just band-aids covering a huge gaping hole. This hole exists in the hearts of people. It's time to take a stand. It's time to get the cement truck and fill in the holes with a permanent solution. (Little break down in illustration because the pot-holes come back every year, but work with me.)
This battle will most likely not be won on the front lines in Washington (though we should still keep fighting.) But, I can win this battle in my home. You can win this battle in your home. I can choose to teach my children to love other people fiercely with the love of Jesus while still standing for what they believe in. I can teach them that while prayer may not be aloud in schools that doesn't mean they can't pray, and while the ten commandments are not where to be found that doesn't mean we don't follow them. I can teach my children that being tolerant is not always the answer. As my husband said last night: "Being tolerant of everything, means your convicted about nothing." How do I teach? I teach by example. They need to see this in me before they ever will adopt it as their own.
No, one law wont fix anything, but if I can mold these three little hearts in front of me, that's a start. Change starts with ME. Change starts with YOU. How about we start right now?
I've had a few days to take it all in. Of course I could never imagine kissing my child goodbye, dropping them off at school only for them to be gunned down and killed. As a parent, I know one main responsibility I feel to physically protect my children. How could you cope? How could you move? How could you breath? I ache for these families, and I pray the peace of God that transcends all understanding will be given to them, and that from this tragedy God will be glorified.
Meanwhile, society is stuck on three questions. How? Why? And, How can it be prevented from happening again? Everyone seems to have the answers. ABC news took two hot seconds before saying the infamous words "Gun Control".
More gun legislation.
Better mental health screening.
Metal detectors and armed cops at the doors of every school.
Let the teachers themselves be armed.
So many thoughts and suggestions get thrown out, and we as believes let and even engage ourselves in these conversations. I think we do this because we want it to be true. We want to believe that WE can fix this "problem". We want to believe one law can be passed and we will never have to witness this again. Oh how I myself wish that were true. (On the flip side, I do firmly believe giving up our civil liberties to the government will be far more dangerous to our children then the amount of guns on the streets. Taking away guns is only a hop, skip,and jump away from taking away our right to gather and worship.)The fact is hurt and anguish have been around as long as man, and with it comes a deep deep need to know the Savior. Why are we so afraid to offer this savior to a hurting world? Why am I so afraid?
In a society where violence and anger are everywhere, our government is bending over backwards to take morality out. This is not a gun issue, or video game issue, or school safety issue, this is a HEART issue. Yes, there are some things that we can and should do to practically help, but these are not a fix. It's like the "Chicago Band-aid". We lived in the city of Chicago for six years. One of the plagues of the city were giant pot holes that popped up every year. It seemed overnight one could quadruple in size. There were so many, the city couldn't fix them all fast enough. If a pot-hole got so big it could cause damage to cars, the city would bring a huge piece of steel and place it over the hole until it could be properly repaired. It was just a band-aid covering a problem not fixing it. All the laws that could be passed are just band-aids covering a huge gaping hole. This hole exists in the hearts of people. It's time to take a stand. It's time to get the cement truck and fill in the holes with a permanent solution. (Little break down in illustration because the pot-holes come back every year, but work with me.)
This battle will most likely not be won on the front lines in Washington (though we should still keep fighting.) But, I can win this battle in my home. You can win this battle in your home. I can choose to teach my children to love other people fiercely with the love of Jesus while still standing for what they believe in. I can teach them that while prayer may not be aloud in schools that doesn't mean they can't pray, and while the ten commandments are not where to be found that doesn't mean we don't follow them. I can teach my children that being tolerant is not always the answer. As my husband said last night: "Being tolerant of everything, means your convicted about nothing." How do I teach? I teach by example. They need to see this in me before they ever will adopt it as their own.
No, one law wont fix anything, but if I can mold these three little hearts in front of me, that's a start. Change starts with ME. Change starts with YOU. How about we start right now?
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
A Glass House
My four year old says the funniest things ever! Not only does she SAY things that leave me dumbfounded, but it's the WAY she says them. When you add in her body language, tone, and facial expressions, you would truly think your talking to 40 year old! Many people have said things like, "You should have cameras hidden in your home and make some money off of her!" I always laugh and say, "Yeah. I know." However, secretly I'm thinking, "I'm soooo glad there are NOT cameras in my home!"
There are so many moments I'm not proud of. This morning was one of them. Today (like most days around here) we didn't have anything planned. I announced I was taking a shower and the younger two come running to me patting their own chests indicating they wanted to get int he bath tub. Sometimes I stick them in the big tub in my bathroom while I shower. They love to play, I get them clean, and it frees up more daddy time in the evening. With nothing on the calendar, I agree. They start jumping up and down and run upstairs, tear their clothes off, and jump in. Everything was going well until for some reason we ran out of hot water. By the time I quickly finished myself up, the baby and my four year old were shivering and complaining. (My son didn't care at all....just like a boy!) I wrapped them up in towels and went to get warm clothes. Did the whining and complaining stop?.....NOPE! My daughter went on and on and on about how cold she was, how sticky she was, how wet her hair was......I. Got. Huffy. I started rambling off all the reasons why we need to have good hygiene, and all the reasons I could think off that she needed to be thankful that she had running water at all even if it wasn't hot. Sometime after going into detail about kids in Africa (Yep. I know I lost her!) I stopped long enough to realize I had gone overboard. A few seconds later as I threw my make-up on (an accurate description on how it's applied), ashamed I said to myself, "Sure glad no one saw that!" I then stopped and starred at myself in the mirror as I pictured God saying, "Hello? Maggie? Did you forget? I saw."
He does. He sees all. Every impatient word snapped, every huffy tone, every eye roll, every "What were you thinking" look, every stupid disagreement with my husband. He sees. He knows when my heart isn't right even when my actions are. He knows how much of a sinner I truly am. It's as if I live in a glass house. And yet, He loves me anyway. Mind Blown! In those moments I don't even love myself....He does! That's all it took for me to go hunt down my daughter get down on her level and apologize for my impatience and ask for forgiveness. A big smile came across her face, and she said, "Sure Mommy." and gave me a hug.
Oh, how I wish I could remind myself of this on an hourly basis. God sees. God cares. God loves. It takes me back to middle school when the "What Would Jesus Do?" campaign took off. I need a "God's Watching You" campaign. Sounds a little creepy but what a good reminder. While I'm still very thankful my house is not made of actual glass, and there are no cameras, I pray I become more mindful that God is watching me. To pretend, if you will, I do live a glass house. He sees me at my worst, in my lowest moments (and of course all the good) and yet extends grace and love. Praise God!
** Side note: A few hours later, my daughter sat at the lunch table and said in a sweet voice, "Mommy, I'm really sorry for dumping the chocolate chips. Will you forgive me?" After forgiveness was given for her previous indiscretion she smiled and added, "I love you." Wow! Is it possible she appreciated the sincere apology she had received from me earlier, that she was moved to apologize herself on her own? Is it possible I just had a quick glimpse at how my children learn from my example? How cool is God?**
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Christmas Without Santa?
Recently, I've been asked by many friends and family members why we've chosen not to do Santa Claus with our kids. It's forced me to ask myself some hard questions to validate what we do and why.
I grew up celebrating Christmas without Santa Claus, and I knew that when I had kids I would do the same. Before my husband and I had children we discussed and decided how we would approach the topic. Growing up without Santa, I didn't even know if I could bring myself to do it, and my husband had his own disappointing experience of "finding out the truth" (as do many) so the decision was easy for us.
As our children are getting older and we're having to explain more and more, and as people start asking us questions it's forced us to really know why. Not just, "This is how I grew up, so this is how I'll do it." But really why?
Here are some of our reasons:
-We want our children to know without a doubt, what we tell them is true. If I spend the first few years of their lives telling them Santa Claus is real and going great lengths to reinforce it, when they find out it was all a game, will they start to question other things that I tell them are true? Like Jesus? Was that part real, or just a story too?
-We try to be on guard when introducing mythical magical characters in general. We want their hearts to be as sensitive as possible to the true miraculous stories of Christ. I've already noticed my daughter not being that impressed with stories like the feeding of the five thousand or Jesus raising a little girl from the dead. It's made me think. I guess if everything is bippity-boppity-boo'd into existence in her world (it's everywhere from sesame street to Disney) it would be hard to be impressed with the real deal. If reindeer can fly and a fat man comes down every chimney in the world in one night what's the big deal with calming a storm?
-Telling our children that they will get presents for being good and nothing for being bad (not like ANYONE actually does this) is the exact opposite of what we're trying to teach them. Good deeds equal good things? We ALL know life doesn't work like this. I know many very "Good" people that go through horrifically hard times. And, Salvation definitely doesn't work like this. No. We want them to learn things like grace and unconditional love. God gave us the gift of Jesus and on Christmas one way we can celebrate this is by giving gifts to each other. Not because of how good my children are but simply because we love them.
-Less talk about Santa, the more we can talk about Christ. Easier said than done. These of course are our intentions but it is hard to continuously point our children towards the manger with all the commercialization of the holiday. It's hard to continuously point myself toward the manger....better start there!
So what DO we do with Santa?
In our house he's not taboo. Santa Claus is a character just like Dora and Cinderella. It's fun to read the stories and watch classic holiday movies, all the while reminding our children that it is exactly what it seems: Fictional. We do however talk about the real Saint Nicolas and make it a good reminder to share our blessings with people less fortunate.
Doesn't this take away from the magic of Christmas?
Um....NOPE. If you could come into our home and see our kids jumping up and down at the thought of Christmas and all it brings you would know they're really just as excited as any other Santa believing kid.
In all reality my daughter kind of thinks it's fun to know something her friends don't (as did I when I was little). We've only had one issue of her announcing to her Mops class that Santa isn't real, but really all it took was a conversation and she's good. (I didn't think I needed to do that in October, but apparently Christmas gets to the minds of a child before it gets to Target!) The talk I had with her this year did raise some very interesting moments. My daughter doesn't understand why parents would lie to their kids. Something about the appalled look on her face was all the validation that I needed that we're doing the right thing for us.
With some of the questions I've been asked recently, I decided to write about what we do NOT to try to persuade every reader to do exactly as us, but to encourage you to think about a few things. Why do you celebrate Christmas the way you do? What are your convictions?Is it just because that's how you did it when you were a kid? Maybe you need to ask some hard questions like I had to.
Side note:
Some of my favorite simple things that help point is towards the manger during the holiday season is:
-the movie the Crippled Lamb based on the Max Lucado book. (My daughter loves it so much, it's one of her favorites to watch all year long.)
-The fisher price nativity set. My parents go it for the kids a few years ago and they love getting it out and acting out the Christmas story.
-Using an advent Calendar. We like to do a different one every year.
I grew up celebrating Christmas without Santa Claus, and I knew that when I had kids I would do the same. Before my husband and I had children we discussed and decided how we would approach the topic. Growing up without Santa, I didn't even know if I could bring myself to do it, and my husband had his own disappointing experience of "finding out the truth" (as do many) so the decision was easy for us.
As our children are getting older and we're having to explain more and more, and as people start asking us questions it's forced us to really know why. Not just, "This is how I grew up, so this is how I'll do it." But really why?
Here are some of our reasons:
-We want our children to know without a doubt, what we tell them is true. If I spend the first few years of their lives telling them Santa Claus is real and going great lengths to reinforce it, when they find out it was all a game, will they start to question other things that I tell them are true? Like Jesus? Was that part real, or just a story too?
-We try to be on guard when introducing mythical magical characters in general. We want their hearts to be as sensitive as possible to the true miraculous stories of Christ. I've already noticed my daughter not being that impressed with stories like the feeding of the five thousand or Jesus raising a little girl from the dead. It's made me think. I guess if everything is bippity-boppity-boo'd into existence in her world (it's everywhere from sesame street to Disney) it would be hard to be impressed with the real deal. If reindeer can fly and a fat man comes down every chimney in the world in one night what's the big deal with calming a storm?
-Telling our children that they will get presents for being good and nothing for being bad (not like ANYONE actually does this) is the exact opposite of what we're trying to teach them. Good deeds equal good things? We ALL know life doesn't work like this. I know many very "Good" people that go through horrifically hard times. And, Salvation definitely doesn't work like this. No. We want them to learn things like grace and unconditional love. God gave us the gift of Jesus and on Christmas one way we can celebrate this is by giving gifts to each other. Not because of how good my children are but simply because we love them.
-Less talk about Santa, the more we can talk about Christ. Easier said than done. These of course are our intentions but it is hard to continuously point our children towards the manger with all the commercialization of the holiday. It's hard to continuously point myself toward the manger....better start there!
So what DO we do with Santa?
In our house he's not taboo. Santa Claus is a character just like Dora and Cinderella. It's fun to read the stories and watch classic holiday movies, all the while reminding our children that it is exactly what it seems: Fictional. We do however talk about the real Saint Nicolas and make it a good reminder to share our blessings with people less fortunate.
Doesn't this take away from the magic of Christmas?
Um....NOPE. If you could come into our home and see our kids jumping up and down at the thought of Christmas and all it brings you would know they're really just as excited as any other Santa believing kid.
In all reality my daughter kind of thinks it's fun to know something her friends don't (as did I when I was little). We've only had one issue of her announcing to her Mops class that Santa isn't real, but really all it took was a conversation and she's good. (I didn't think I needed to do that in October, but apparently Christmas gets to the minds of a child before it gets to Target!) The talk I had with her this year did raise some very interesting moments. My daughter doesn't understand why parents would lie to their kids. Something about the appalled look on her face was all the validation that I needed that we're doing the right thing for us.
With some of the questions I've been asked recently, I decided to write about what we do NOT to try to persuade every reader to do exactly as us, but to encourage you to think about a few things. Why do you celebrate Christmas the way you do? What are your convictions?Is it just because that's how you did it when you were a kid? Maybe you need to ask some hard questions like I had to.
Side note:
Some of my favorite simple things that help point is towards the manger during the holiday season is:
-the movie the Crippled Lamb based on the Max Lucado book. (My daughter loves it so much, it's one of her favorites to watch all year long.)
-The fisher price nativity set. My parents go it for the kids a few years ago and they love getting it out and acting out the Christmas story.
-Using an advent Calendar. We like to do a different one every year.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
These Are My People...Even Today!
Normally when I write, it's late at night when my head has been cleared and all the dust has settled in my brain and I can see things in a better light. Today however, I'm writing during naptime and I'm afraid the rawness of today will come through loud and clear.
I swear my children have secret meetings in the middle of night that go something like this:
My four year old is the ringleader and wakes the other two up to remind them that "tomorrow's the day". The goal: Lets see how long it will take to have Mom fall apart.
(I do know that this didn't happen at 4:30 last night because I was up with the one year old at that hour!)
With the goal in forefront of their minds the day begins. My two year old decides to cry about everything all morning long. I'm not making this up. I say no to having chocolate chips for breakfast (which has never happened) and you'd think I was ripping his leg off! Then he wants cereal, but not cereal in a bowl just straight from the bag. Again a "no" and again a total meltdown. After spending some time alone in his room to calm down the very first thing he does is rip a toy out of his little sisters hands. He then peed his pants three times this morning!
On top of his lovely demeanor today, the baby is on a hunger strike demonstrated by throwing every piece of food put in front of her. She will however, nurse like a newborn if I would let her! She's 13 months old!! She also has decided that things like walking and playing with toys do not seem like something she would be interested in today. Instead she would prefer to stay on my hip and will scream and pull on my legs until she gets there.
Surprisingly enough my four year old has been quite mild today. A few sassy remarks, but that's it. Now, I know this is because I haven't really asked her to do anything she objected to like get dressed or brush her hair or ask before she gets out glue sticks. I'd like to think she sees how full my hands are with the other two she figures she'll give me her good stuff another day. But, I'm sure secretly she's saying, "Haha, the plan worked....she's loosing it! And, I don't even have to do anything!"
I fell like a good hot meal in their belly's always helps turn some things around. So I thought I'd make some Mac'n Cheese for lunch instead of the regular peanut butter sandwiches and apples. Not just Mac'n Cheese, but the homemade kind. I recently saw something on pinterest about boiling noodles in milk instead of water and stirring in the cheese. I thought i'd give it a try. I'm for anything that skips a step. Did you know that milk boils like 5 times faster than water? Did you know that it doesn't steam like water so you don't know it's boiling? Did you know that when milk burns it results in disgusting solid burnt stuff and smells awful?....yeah....me either....but I do now!
As I frantically moved the baby away from the stove (because she's always right at my feet) and grabbed the pot of flowing burnt boiling milk and noodles to the sink steam filled the kitchen and for a moment I was filled with all kinds of bad emotions. I was filled with hopelessness as I thought about how I just spent 20 minutes scrubbing the stains off my stove-top YESTERDAY, and now there was burnt milk stuck and smeared all over half the surface. Why even bother? I was filled with anger, frustration, and jealousy as I thought of my husband sitting at his computer chatting with adults about the upcoming election and record breaking storms. I thought, "This stay at home mom stuff is for the birds!". I thought how different my life would look if I dropped my kids off at daycare and went to work, picked them up and came home to a clean house because no one was here all day, made dinner, baths, books, and bed and called it a day. It sounded sooo good as the baby was crying because she couldn't be wrapped around my leg while I was dealing with mess, and the two year old was screaming "food. food. food." and my four year old who is normally a good buffer for the other two decided to go off by herself to color.
That bring me to now. After having peanut butter afterall, the little ones are sleeping and my oldest is still coloring quietly, and I finally have time to think practically. I need time for my heart to tell my head what it knows. My heart knows that THESE ARE MY PEOPLE! My heart knows all these headaches will soon turn into memories. Memories that will bring a smile to my face. Memories that someday in the future will bring me comfort. My heart knows it would be torn up daily dropping them off at daycare. My heart knows I love these boogers to death through all the whining, crying, peeing, non-eating, boiling burnt milk kind of days. My heart knows I'm right where
I need to be....WITH MY PEOPLE!
I swear my children have secret meetings in the middle of night that go something like this:
My four year old is the ringleader and wakes the other two up to remind them that "tomorrow's the day". The goal: Lets see how long it will take to have Mom fall apart.
(I do know that this didn't happen at 4:30 last night because I was up with the one year old at that hour!)
With the goal in forefront of their minds the day begins. My two year old decides to cry about everything all morning long. I'm not making this up. I say no to having chocolate chips for breakfast (which has never happened) and you'd think I was ripping his leg off! Then he wants cereal, but not cereal in a bowl just straight from the bag. Again a "no" and again a total meltdown. After spending some time alone in his room to calm down the very first thing he does is rip a toy out of his little sisters hands. He then peed his pants three times this morning!
On top of his lovely demeanor today, the baby is on a hunger strike demonstrated by throwing every piece of food put in front of her. She will however, nurse like a newborn if I would let her! She's 13 months old!! She also has decided that things like walking and playing with toys do not seem like something she would be interested in today. Instead she would prefer to stay on my hip and will scream and pull on my legs until she gets there.
Surprisingly enough my four year old has been quite mild today. A few sassy remarks, but that's it. Now, I know this is because I haven't really asked her to do anything she objected to like get dressed or brush her hair or ask before she gets out glue sticks. I'd like to think she sees how full my hands are with the other two she figures she'll give me her good stuff another day. But, I'm sure secretly she's saying, "Haha, the plan worked....she's loosing it! And, I don't even have to do anything!"
I fell like a good hot meal in their belly's always helps turn some things around. So I thought I'd make some Mac'n Cheese for lunch instead of the regular peanut butter sandwiches and apples. Not just Mac'n Cheese, but the homemade kind. I recently saw something on pinterest about boiling noodles in milk instead of water and stirring in the cheese. I thought i'd give it a try. I'm for anything that skips a step. Did you know that milk boils like 5 times faster than water? Did you know that it doesn't steam like water so you don't know it's boiling? Did you know that when milk burns it results in disgusting solid burnt stuff and smells awful?....yeah....me either....but I do now!
As I frantically moved the baby away from the stove (because she's always right at my feet) and grabbed the pot of flowing burnt boiling milk and noodles to the sink steam filled the kitchen and for a moment I was filled with all kinds of bad emotions. I was filled with hopelessness as I thought about how I just spent 20 minutes scrubbing the stains off my stove-top YESTERDAY, and now there was burnt milk stuck and smeared all over half the surface. Why even bother? I was filled with anger, frustration, and jealousy as I thought of my husband sitting at his computer chatting with adults about the upcoming election and record breaking storms. I thought, "This stay at home mom stuff is for the birds!". I thought how different my life would look if I dropped my kids off at daycare and went to work, picked them up and came home to a clean house because no one was here all day, made dinner, baths, books, and bed and called it a day. It sounded sooo good as the baby was crying because she couldn't be wrapped around my leg while I was dealing with mess, and the two year old was screaming "food. food. food." and my four year old who is normally a good buffer for the other two decided to go off by herself to color.
That bring me to now. After having peanut butter afterall, the little ones are sleeping and my oldest is still coloring quietly, and I finally have time to think practically. I need time for my heart to tell my head what it knows. My heart knows that THESE ARE MY PEOPLE! My heart knows all these headaches will soon turn into memories. Memories that will bring a smile to my face. Memories that someday in the future will bring me comfort. My heart knows it would be torn up daily dropping them off at daycare. My heart knows I love these boogers to death through all the whining, crying, peeing, non-eating, boiling burnt milk kind of days. My heart knows I'm right where
I need to be....WITH MY PEOPLE!
Thursday, October 18, 2012
I Say "No", Because I Love You.
We've tried really hard to set a precedent in our home that the kids receive the toys and special things they want for their birthdays, Christmas, or a special occasion, and not every time we go to the store. Even with this being the general expectation of our home, our 4 year old has decided to test the waters recently. She's smart too. She thinks she has more of chance with a cheaper item, so the dollar bins at target has become a breading ground for whining and bargaining. In fact, just the other day we went to Walmart to pick up some pacifiers for her younger brother (we lost a few traveling), and she tried to tell us how its not fair that her younger brother gets something and she didn't. She also had that little item already picked out that would quickly right the wrong that was being done to her!
These are hard but very important moments for us to stand our ground and explain that we know what's best for her. My grandfather was known for saying. "The biggest mistake GOOD parents make is giving their kids TOO MUCH." I'm confident that saying "No" will help her grow into the person I want her to become. A person who can hear disappointment and still cope, a person who can trust that her parents can see a big picture that she may not. I love her too much to let her get everything she wants. I even explain to her that there are things that I want that I can't have. She'll be dealing with this her whole life. Better learned young. You see, right now it's the trinket from the dollar bin, but down the road it'll be a sleep over that I don't feel comfortable with, or riding in a car with boys, or going to a party that has alcohol. In these moments, when I say no because i love her and know what's best for her, I want her to be confident that her parents see something she doesn't. Just like time she begged hard for a toy and forgot about it within 3 seconds of walking out the store.
I'm the parent. I call the shots. I know that hearing "No" develops character. It helps her get to know herself better and what she really wants. If that toy isn't forgot about within 3 seconds of leaving the store, and we keep hearing about it, we tell her that if she really wants it she can wait for her birthday or Christmas. This also makes her appreciate it that much more because she had been waiting for it.
It does get me to thinking: How many times do I play this game with God? How many times have come to him with requests that seem so important to me, life-changing even? And, God in his infinite wisdom looks down on me and says, "Not right now. Not this time. Put it back on the shelf." There have even been times where I shamefully have thrown a fit whining and pouting about this answer.
Please let my husband get a raise.
Take this cancer away.
Help this person see where I'm coming from.
How could these things be wrong or bad? I don't know.
But I do know that God stands over me just like I stand over my 4 year old and knows better. He knows that if I have to wait for something that I really want it could help develop me into a better person. A person HE wants me to be. It could help me learn patience, gratitude, thankfulness, or contentment. Looking back on my life a lot of things I thought were so big at the time, really were quite small. Is it possible that God knew the mountain was really an ant hill? It's not only possible its very probable! He knows and He loves me, and sometimes the answer is "Yes. Let's do this!" But, so often I fold my arms in protest and hang my head and pout all the way through the store because God said "No" to the dollar bin junk at the beginning. Sometimes it's because there's something so much better in store....something I didn't even know I wanted, but something I'll cherish forever (like a child).
Good reminder: Sometimes "No." is code for "I love you."
Friday, October 5, 2012
My Baby is One!
Today my baby turns one. Now I know turning one is a big deal in general, but its especially a big deal for this third child. Don't get me wrong, this birthday is everything it should be: a celebration of her life, but its also the day my husband and I get to look at each other and say, "We did it! We kept all three kids alive for a whole year!" So, while we're celebrating her life we're also high fiving and fist bumping on the down-low.
I know you think this sounds a little dramatic, but let me tell you when your kids are not even 2 1/2 and 5 months old when you find out number 3 is coming along, you begin to severely doubt your ability to meet everyone's physical needs more or less nurture their souls like a good mother should. So, yes, there are some high fives around here!
For a good portion of my third pregnancy I did what any mother of two other young children would do: I pretended it wasn't happening. I focused on the two I had in front of me and tried not to think about how crazy life with one more would be. God knew what he was doing when he made gestation 40 weeks. It's funny how with my first it felt like it would take forever before I was holding that baby, and by number three I was begging for a few more weeks. Even though my back hurt, I peed every 15 minutes, and I could breath while laying down, I knew the easiest part of parenting was while they're in the womb.
Three months before my due date we moved to North Carolina. New state. New people. New doctor. New hospital. Husband has a new job. No family. I had my reservations about this new life, but followed my new found mantra of "Just keep living." It works well. My new doctor agreed that number 3 should be induced just like number 2 to prevent what happened with number 1. One great thing about this plan was that my mom was able to plan a trip to be here with plenty of time before the arrival. (Hallelujah!)
Mom here? Check. Baby girl newborn clothes pulled out of storage? Check. Bassinet ready? Check. Bags packed? Check. Camera charged? Check. Let's have a baby!
We showed up at the hospital at the crack of dawn like instructed to find out that they had no room for me. My amazingly awesome nurse brought me into a triage room to "start things". Now, I call her amazingly awesome because when I informed her this baby would show up very soon after my water broke, she listened to me. She decided she didn't want to personally deliver the baby in the dinky triage room so we waited until a room was ready, then my doctor came in and broke my water. So, what does a woman who's had one baby with an epidural and one all natural do with the third birth? Everyone has their own options and beliefs about this, but I am proud to say that I had 5 bad contractions before the epidural kicked in. As they say "Fool me once..." I felt no need to knock on deaths door like I had previously experienced. Been there. Done that.
Turns out I was right. The little squirt made her appearance within an hour of my water braking. One push and there she was! We're not exactly sure how much she weighed. The scale was doing weird things at the time of her birth and somehow she magically gained a whole pound in 2 hrs, so we're guessing she was around 7 lbs. Right in between her brother and her sisters size.
A few hours later the bed was full of my whole family. All 5 of us. A crazy moment for me to look from OUR 3 year old, OUR 1 year old, and OUR newborn. I remember thinking, I sure hope this works! Flash foreword a year, and our lives would have a great hole in it without this little one. She loves to laugh and her favorite things ever are her older sister and brother. She marches right along with them. She's been walking now for a few months and practically runs from room to room with the clan getting into all kinds of fun stuff. She's our "sweet pea" and loves to snuggle. It amazes me how she filled a hole in our family we never new we had.
Life can get crazy around here. There are days when all the tantrums, teething, and poop make me go batty. Or nights with fevers, bad dreams, and teething that make those nights of feeding a newborn every three hours look heavenly. But the good far out-ways the bad, and I can't imagine life without the little monkey around. Happy Birthday Sweet Pea!
I know you think this sounds a little dramatic, but let me tell you when your kids are not even 2 1/2 and 5 months old when you find out number 3 is coming along, you begin to severely doubt your ability to meet everyone's physical needs more or less nurture their souls like a good mother should. So, yes, there are some high fives around here!
For a good portion of my third pregnancy I did what any mother of two other young children would do: I pretended it wasn't happening. I focused on the two I had in front of me and tried not to think about how crazy life with one more would be. God knew what he was doing when he made gestation 40 weeks. It's funny how with my first it felt like it would take forever before I was holding that baby, and by number three I was begging for a few more weeks. Even though my back hurt, I peed every 15 minutes, and I could breath while laying down, I knew the easiest part of parenting was while they're in the womb.
Three months before my due date we moved to North Carolina. New state. New people. New doctor. New hospital. Husband has a new job. No family. I had my reservations about this new life, but followed my new found mantra of "Just keep living." It works well. My new doctor agreed that number 3 should be induced just like number 2 to prevent what happened with number 1. One great thing about this plan was that my mom was able to plan a trip to be here with plenty of time before the arrival. (Hallelujah!)
Mom here? Check. Baby girl newborn clothes pulled out of storage? Check. Bassinet ready? Check. Bags packed? Check. Camera charged? Check. Let's have a baby!
We showed up at the hospital at the crack of dawn like instructed to find out that they had no room for me. My amazingly awesome nurse brought me into a triage room to "start things". Now, I call her amazingly awesome because when I informed her this baby would show up very soon after my water broke, she listened to me. She decided she didn't want to personally deliver the baby in the dinky triage room so we waited until a room was ready, then my doctor came in and broke my water. So, what does a woman who's had one baby with an epidural and one all natural do with the third birth? Everyone has their own options and beliefs about this, but I am proud to say that I had 5 bad contractions before the epidural kicked in. As they say "Fool me once..." I felt no need to knock on deaths door like I had previously experienced. Been there. Done that.
Turns out I was right. The little squirt made her appearance within an hour of my water braking. One push and there she was! We're not exactly sure how much she weighed. The scale was doing weird things at the time of her birth and somehow she magically gained a whole pound in 2 hrs, so we're guessing she was around 7 lbs. Right in between her brother and her sisters size.
A few hours later the bed was full of my whole family. All 5 of us. A crazy moment for me to look from OUR 3 year old, OUR 1 year old, and OUR newborn. I remember thinking, I sure hope this works! Flash foreword a year, and our lives would have a great hole in it without this little one. She loves to laugh and her favorite things ever are her older sister and brother. She marches right along with them. She's been walking now for a few months and practically runs from room to room with the clan getting into all kinds of fun stuff. She's our "sweet pea" and loves to snuggle. It amazes me how she filled a hole in our family we never new we had.
Life can get crazy around here. There are days when all the tantrums, teething, and poop make me go batty. Or nights with fevers, bad dreams, and teething that make those nights of feeding a newborn every three hours look heavenly. But the good far out-ways the bad, and I can't imagine life without the little monkey around. Happy Birthday Sweet Pea!
Saturday, September 29, 2012
"Mommy Brain"
Something is very wrong! "Mommy brain" doesn't even seem to cover how absent my mind has been lately. Sometimes I feel like I'm wondering around the house aimlessly running from child to child meeting need after need with no other purpose, goal, or plan to strive for. I walk into a room and grab a diaper but no wipes, I'll pick up one shoe but leave the matching one behind, I'll be laying in bed and realize my phone and the baby monitor are still downstairs.....Yes, these are just little things, but they're really starting to mess with my head.
I don't care what science says, I'm convinced a child in the womb feeds off brain cells. Then whatever you have left you push out with the baby and you never quite get them back! I had 3 children in 3 years....it's not looking good for me!
Not to long ago, our church had a marriage retreat night. They catered in a meal and provided childcare (woot! woot!...we don't get out much!) then had a speaker. Forgive me, I don't remember the speakers name. This goes right along with my topic about my brain working at slower speeds and comprehending less than it used to. This man was a professor at a nearby college and had studied the brain for years. He proceeded to tell us all about our brains and how men and women's brains work differently. As he's babbling on about the hypothalamus or something it hits me that this is way over my head. I wasn't absorbing 40% of what he was saying. My mind kept wondering to all kinds of insignificant places like the lady's hair in front of me, and if I listened really hard, I think I can hear my baby crying from downstairs. What has happened to me? Over my head?....wait no it's not! I graduated from nursing school. Not too many years ago not only did I sit through microbiology, pharmacology, chemistry, and anatomy and physiology, but I passed them at that! Had motherhood really dumbed my brain down that much?
The whole irony of my even thinking this, is that one of the speakers big points was that our brains actually stores everything we've ever seen, heard, or read. We just don't tap into all those parts regularly. (Yes, I paid attention a little bit!) So, no. I've not gotten more dumb....I just don't use those intellectual parts of my brain anymore. I sing the abc's and say things like "let's go potty" and "be gentle with your sister" like 100,00 times a day.
Sometimes it's easy for me to get down on myself and think, "Good gracious, Maggie you used to literally be helping save people's lives." or "I've got ideas. Good ideas too. Maybe I should be doing something more with them." Then I'll turn around to hear all three of my kids laughing together or watch one of them share without being told and I know I'm right where I'm supposed to be.
I'm supposed to be loosing my mind in this house with these kids. This is my job. It's more important and bigger than anything else right now. And, at the end of the night when I check on three peaceful precious little faces I know without a doubt I'd willingly give up every last brain cell for them.
I don't care what science says, I'm convinced a child in the womb feeds off brain cells. Then whatever you have left you push out with the baby and you never quite get them back! I had 3 children in 3 years....it's not looking good for me!
Not to long ago, our church had a marriage retreat night. They catered in a meal and provided childcare (woot! woot!...we don't get out much!) then had a speaker. Forgive me, I don't remember the speakers name. This goes right along with my topic about my brain working at slower speeds and comprehending less than it used to. This man was a professor at a nearby college and had studied the brain for years. He proceeded to tell us all about our brains and how men and women's brains work differently. As he's babbling on about the hypothalamus or something it hits me that this is way over my head. I wasn't absorbing 40% of what he was saying. My mind kept wondering to all kinds of insignificant places like the lady's hair in front of me, and if I listened really hard, I think I can hear my baby crying from downstairs. What has happened to me? Over my head?....wait no it's not! I graduated from nursing school. Not too many years ago not only did I sit through microbiology, pharmacology, chemistry, and anatomy and physiology, but I passed them at that! Had motherhood really dumbed my brain down that much?
The whole irony of my even thinking this, is that one of the speakers big points was that our brains actually stores everything we've ever seen, heard, or read. We just don't tap into all those parts regularly. (Yes, I paid attention a little bit!) So, no. I've not gotten more dumb....I just don't use those intellectual parts of my brain anymore. I sing the abc's and say things like "let's go potty" and "be gentle with your sister" like 100,00 times a day.
Sometimes it's easy for me to get down on myself and think, "Good gracious, Maggie you used to literally be helping save people's lives." or "I've got ideas. Good ideas too. Maybe I should be doing something more with them." Then I'll turn around to hear all three of my kids laughing together or watch one of them share without being told and I know I'm right where I'm supposed to be.
I'm supposed to be loosing my mind in this house with these kids. This is my job. It's more important and bigger than anything else right now. And, at the end of the night when I check on three peaceful precious little faces I know without a doubt I'd willingly give up every last brain cell for them.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Parenting.....The Hardest Race Ever!
My family loves sports. We watched every bit of the Olympics that we could. Not only do we enjoy it for entertainment, but we believe sports can teach you so much about yourself and life. Even with our kids being little we try to utilize sports viewing as a parenting tool. Endurance, perseverance, teamwork, sportsmanship, victory, and defeat are a few things we talk about. I especially love the analogies that can be drawn between sports and life. Today, my husband ran his first triathlon. As I watched each contestant push forward it came to mind how strikingly similar a triathlon is to the race of parenting.
When you wake up the morning of the race you feel excited and confident in all your preparations. You're ready to be a parent and quite excited about it too. All the books that have been read and the classes completed have prepared you for the moment when that horn sounds and you'll be off on this journey or race of parenthood. But have you done enough? A tri is started with a swim. As you wade into the water you begin to get nervous and even doubt the decision to participate at all. However, the deed has been done and there's no turning back. : ) The horn sounds, and your off. Somehow, no one seemed to warn you about this part. Your getting kicked in face and pulled under water by everyone else around you. You just started and yet feel like quitting already. As everyone fans out and gets in their own grove, it gets a little easier. But, swimming is a every muscle in your body activity. Inevitably you begin to tire. The freestyle that seemed so promising at the beginning has turned into a breast stroke then a doggie paddle or at times just treading water. I'm convinced having little kids is like the swim. It's the loneliest of the events. No one is right there cheering you on. You get little love from the people doing it along side of you. Everyone is very focused on themselves and keeping their own head above water. It's also the only event where re-fueling isn't an option. There's no water bottle to grab or emergency energy gel pack to pop.....you find yourself only relying on the preparations you made ahead of time. Somehow, you've made progress because you pass a mile marker, but there's still a long way to go. Sometimes the kids help you along and the swim doesn't seem so bad, and other times it's like they personally tied weights around your ankles! There it is! You can see the shore. You think you're close enough to touch the sand, but put your feet down just to be pulled back under. Go a little farther! You almost have this! Soon your feet hit bottom. You're able to come up and take a nice deep breath. It feels so good. Done? Not even close, but that part is over!
You take off running for your bike. Shed the swim cap and goggles....you have new equipment needed for this new phase. Quickly put on your shoes and make preparations for a new set of challenges and experiences. Your kids are growing up now. A little more independent, but still very much in need of you just in different ways. There are some hard hills up ahead but you hear cheers from the sidelines, and it pushes you forward even when your body aches. The hill is over and down the other side is something wonderful. You get to sit back and enjoy. Keep peddling, but less force is needed. Things are going well. Still participating in the race, but not having to work so hard. Just when you think all is well, someone comes whizzing past you! Grab a swig of water and head on after them. You can't sit back and rest for too long. And, sure enough as you round the corner you can see the bike racks. While you're glad things are moving forward, it's hard not to hesitate. The bike has been working and feels good. If I get off, my legs might feel like noodles. What if they don't hold. me? It doesn't matter.....the end is here.
College really? Has time really gone by that fast. It seems like yesterday you were fighting for breath during the swim. Somewhat reluctantly you hang your bike up. Put on a new pair of shoes better fit for running, strap your number on your back and off you go, on a new journey. This journey seems so different, but also a little bit fun. You can say a few words to other runners and sneak in a wave at spectators. Time moves with a little less urgency now. As you round some of the last corners you know what's ahead. The finish line is the end of the race but the beginning of a celebration! Heaven will be sweet. You begin to reflect on all you've done. Hopefully satisfied, you cross the finish line with your arms held up high! Probably not the winner, but as a finisher feeling just as accomplished.
Now you can stop! What a feeling! This is true rest! Grab some water and let your heart rate slow down a little, because there's something big going on and you don't want to miss any of it!
When you wake up the morning of the race you feel excited and confident in all your preparations. You're ready to be a parent and quite excited about it too. All the books that have been read and the classes completed have prepared you for the moment when that horn sounds and you'll be off on this journey or race of parenthood. But have you done enough? A tri is started with a swim. As you wade into the water you begin to get nervous and even doubt the decision to participate at all. However, the deed has been done and there's no turning back. : ) The horn sounds, and your off. Somehow, no one seemed to warn you about this part. Your getting kicked in face and pulled under water by everyone else around you. You just started and yet feel like quitting already. As everyone fans out and gets in their own grove, it gets a little easier. But, swimming is a every muscle in your body activity. Inevitably you begin to tire. The freestyle that seemed so promising at the beginning has turned into a breast stroke then a doggie paddle or at times just treading water. I'm convinced having little kids is like the swim. It's the loneliest of the events. No one is right there cheering you on. You get little love from the people doing it along side of you. Everyone is very focused on themselves and keeping their own head above water. It's also the only event where re-fueling isn't an option. There's no water bottle to grab or emergency energy gel pack to pop.....you find yourself only relying on the preparations you made ahead of time. Somehow, you've made progress because you pass a mile marker, but there's still a long way to go. Sometimes the kids help you along and the swim doesn't seem so bad, and other times it's like they personally tied weights around your ankles! There it is! You can see the shore. You think you're close enough to touch the sand, but put your feet down just to be pulled back under. Go a little farther! You almost have this! Soon your feet hit bottom. You're able to come up and take a nice deep breath. It feels so good. Done? Not even close, but that part is over!
You take off running for your bike. Shed the swim cap and goggles....you have new equipment needed for this new phase. Quickly put on your shoes and make preparations for a new set of challenges and experiences. Your kids are growing up now. A little more independent, but still very much in need of you just in different ways. There are some hard hills up ahead but you hear cheers from the sidelines, and it pushes you forward even when your body aches. The hill is over and down the other side is something wonderful. You get to sit back and enjoy. Keep peddling, but less force is needed. Things are going well. Still participating in the race, but not having to work so hard. Just when you think all is well, someone comes whizzing past you! Grab a swig of water and head on after them. You can't sit back and rest for too long. And, sure enough as you round the corner you can see the bike racks. While you're glad things are moving forward, it's hard not to hesitate. The bike has been working and feels good. If I get off, my legs might feel like noodles. What if they don't hold. me? It doesn't matter.....the end is here.
College really? Has time really gone by that fast. It seems like yesterday you were fighting for breath during the swim. Somewhat reluctantly you hang your bike up. Put on a new pair of shoes better fit for running, strap your number on your back and off you go, on a new journey. This journey seems so different, but also a little bit fun. You can say a few words to other runners and sneak in a wave at spectators. Time moves with a little less urgency now. As you round some of the last corners you know what's ahead. The finish line is the end of the race but the beginning of a celebration! Heaven will be sweet. You begin to reflect on all you've done. Hopefully satisfied, you cross the finish line with your arms held up high! Probably not the winner, but as a finisher feeling just as accomplished.
Now you can stop! What a feeling! This is true rest! Grab some water and let your heart rate slow down a little, because there's something big going on and you don't want to miss any of it!
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Who's Your Hero?
Recently a certain celebrity couple divorced and it's still making headlines. We live in a world where for whatever reason we find it fascinating to read about what kind of shampoo a movie star uses, so it's not surprising that their mangled shredded marriage is entertaining. I'm not going to actually call out any names. I'm sure they're both really nice people who love their daughter very much. I don't know them personally, and wont make any judgement calls like I do; however I am increasingly troubled that this women is being crowned a hero in the public's eyes. REALLY? A hero?
Huge reality check for me. We look at this women who "took down" one of the most well-known, wealthy movie stars there is. She blind-sighted him with a divorce, and somehow took primary custody of their kid with very little drama. She must have it all together right? Guess what? Being a feminists hero doesn't keep you warm at night. It doesn't hold your hand through mall or give you a hug after a bad day. Do you think she feels like a hero?....(I don't know maybe she does.) But chances are she's lonely. Chances are there's a huge gaping hole in her life. Chances are, there's a little girl who will grow up in a broken home. Who knows how that might affect her in the future. A Hero? Not mine.
Our culture is teaching us that the pursuit of happiness is ones goal in life. If your not happy anymore why stay married to someone right? That's a legit reason right? After all, I'm supposed to be happy in life. I have news for you: If Jesus pursued his own personal happiness do you think he would have died on the cross for you? Do you think in the moments leading up to his last breath his happiness kept him there? No, His love did. His love for us is so strong, deep, and untainted that he stayed. We've been called to be like Him.
When the seasons come (and have come) when my marriage feels like its surviving instead of thriving, I don't want a hero that has out-played and out-witted her husband into giving up. I want a hero that chose to overcome the lack of happiness in the moment for the greater good. To choose to love someone else instead of myself.
We are about to celebrate 8 years of marriage. This by no means makes me any kind of expert, but I'm also not brand new at it. We've lived in three different states and have three children. A lot of life has taken place and it's not always magazine cover good (like mostly never), but that's okay. I'm one imperfect person married to another one. Then we decided to take our imperfectness and create other little raw imperfect people. Our house is full of all kinds of hurt and joy, but we are all experiencing it together.
As my parents celebrate 30 years of marriage this year (we have the same anniversary). It makes me think about what kind of marriage do I want my children to see? What kind of marriage do I want them to have? Of course I want them to be happy, but my prayer is that they will pursue holiness first.
In this country we may have the right to the pursuit of happiness, but that doesn't always mean we should take it.
Huge reality check for me. We look at this women who "took down" one of the most well-known, wealthy movie stars there is. She blind-sighted him with a divorce, and somehow took primary custody of their kid with very little drama. She must have it all together right? Guess what? Being a feminists hero doesn't keep you warm at night. It doesn't hold your hand through mall or give you a hug after a bad day. Do you think she feels like a hero?....(I don't know maybe she does.) But chances are she's lonely. Chances are there's a huge gaping hole in her life. Chances are, there's a little girl who will grow up in a broken home. Who knows how that might affect her in the future. A Hero? Not mine.
Our culture is teaching us that the pursuit of happiness is ones goal in life. If your not happy anymore why stay married to someone right? That's a legit reason right? After all, I'm supposed to be happy in life. I have news for you: If Jesus pursued his own personal happiness do you think he would have died on the cross for you? Do you think in the moments leading up to his last breath his happiness kept him there? No, His love did. His love for us is so strong, deep, and untainted that he stayed. We've been called to be like Him.
When the seasons come (and have come) when my marriage feels like its surviving instead of thriving, I don't want a hero that has out-played and out-witted her husband into giving up. I want a hero that chose to overcome the lack of happiness in the moment for the greater good. To choose to love someone else instead of myself.
We are about to celebrate 8 years of marriage. This by no means makes me any kind of expert, but I'm also not brand new at it. We've lived in three different states and have three children. A lot of life has taken place and it's not always magazine cover good (like mostly never), but that's okay. I'm one imperfect person married to another one. Then we decided to take our imperfectness and create other little raw imperfect people. Our house is full of all kinds of hurt and joy, but we are all experiencing it together.
As my parents celebrate 30 years of marriage this year (we have the same anniversary). It makes me think about what kind of marriage do I want my children to see? What kind of marriage do I want them to have? Of course I want them to be happy, but my prayer is that they will pursue holiness first.
In this country we may have the right to the pursuit of happiness, but that doesn't always mean we should take it.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Another Birthday....Another Birth Story
My son turns 2 today. I only found it fitting to share his birth story as well (you can read about my daughter's here: http://3kidsnohairandfullheart.blogspot.com/2012/06/today-i-have-four-year-old.html). At least now I will have it written down somewhere....as you can imagine, I'm not the best with "baby books". Also, his was by far the most traumatic emotionally scaring delivery that still sends shivers up and down my spine every time I think about it.
Due to the fact that my daughter's shoulders got stuck and she was only 7lbs 10oz, my doctor and I decided it would be best to make sure this baby didn't get any bigger than that. I was to be induced 4 days before my due date with the hope that the baby would be small enough to slip out (Okay, that was my hope and not necessarily my doctors!) By the way, I'm assuming by this point I have scared away all male readers from this blog. If you are a guy and are still reading: Bless you!! Anyway, since I'm not one of those lucky people that have a perfectly healthy baby come naturally two weeks early, we went through with the induction. We had to wait an hour in the waiting room and I just so happened to be sitting next to a lady awaiting the arrival of her grandson. She then proceeded to tell me that her daughter had been in labor for the last day and half! I so badly wanted to say, "HELLO? Are you crazy lady? Do you not see that I'm getting ready to this too?" Needless to say, I was mildly freaking out by now. I was not in good shape after the delivery of my first and very much wanted to be done with this part.
We finally got a room, and they started everything right away. My doctor showed up and broke my water before I even had an IV. Even though joked with my doctor about wanting a baby by noon, I was expecting this take a while and the process to be slow. I also, knew this baby had been knocking on the front door for a while now and I could be surprised. The contractions quickly got more intense. Every time my nurse came into the room she suggested a different position or walking or rocking in the chair. Somehow, I made it along until the next time she would come in and I did something else. In between contractions I felt pretty good. Then it happened....I felt pressure. I was smart enough to know that the epidural probably wasn't an option at this point. My nurse helped me back into the bed and that was the beginning of the worst 45 minutes of my life! (Yes, I am being a bit dramatic, but if you did it you would be too!) I didn't open my eyes the whole time. Despite my husband vigorously rubbing my arms, both of them had gone completely numb. I couldn't move my arms or fingers. This is when I realized that my body was shutting down from the pain.....I was sure I was going to die. (Again dramatic but true.) I had to push and my doctor wasn't there yet. Thankfully this hospital has it's own midwife, and she had found her way to my room. She was ready to deliver the baby if needed. Two seconds later my doctor rushed into the room just in time for one push and baby was out! At 2:42 I delivered a 6lbs 9oz baby boy with no complications. (Aside from the near death experience.) The midwife was shaking me and telling me to open my eyes and it was all over. My husband immediately announced that was the most awesome experience ever, and got one dirty look from me. As close as I had been to death, just like that I was back. After a few seconds I stopped thinking about me an realized I hadn't heard the baby cry at all. I asked if he was okay and a nurse looked over her shoulder and informed me he was fine, but he was the most stunned baby she had every seen.
Still "stunned" my son cried for the first 3 hours of his life straight. I was starting to get a little worried that this could be some glimpse into his personality, but the nurse assured me that this is one of the things you see with a "non-drugged" baby. Sure enough he managed to settle down enough to meet his big sister later and my mom. He was such a cute little baby. I don't know if I've ever seen a baby look so much like a man before! He had skin all wrinkled up that needed to be grown into, and a little receding hairline on the sides.
He's not a baby anymore! It's sad and exciting to think about how much he's changed in just one year, and how much he will change in the next year to come. He's added so much life to our home.
He has two speeds: Running and Sleeping.
He loves anything that has to do with sports and teasing his older sister by taking her things.
He is extremely curious as to how things work and is always trying to figure it out.
He's not much of a talker, but communicates all the important stuff.
He loves being a big brother too. I can see him and my youngest being really close when they get older.
He loves his daddy and pretends to do everything just like him.
He's our early riser and good eater.
In our house he's known as "Big Man" and we're so glad God added him to our family.
I can't wait to see all the trouble he's going to get into in the future. (I can see many stitches and a few broken bones in store for us.)
Being a mother to two was soooo different, but in a good way. I remember feeling like it wasn't easier but it felt more natural. A kid for every parent. A child on each knee. It fit well. Then a mere 5 months later we found out it was all going to change.........again.........
Due to the fact that my daughter's shoulders got stuck and she was only 7lbs 10oz, my doctor and I decided it would be best to make sure this baby didn't get any bigger than that. I was to be induced 4 days before my due date with the hope that the baby would be small enough to slip out (Okay, that was my hope and not necessarily my doctors!) By the way, I'm assuming by this point I have scared away all male readers from this blog. If you are a guy and are still reading: Bless you!! Anyway, since I'm not one of those lucky people that have a perfectly healthy baby come naturally two weeks early, we went through with the induction. We had to wait an hour in the waiting room and I just so happened to be sitting next to a lady awaiting the arrival of her grandson. She then proceeded to tell me that her daughter had been in labor for the last day and half! I so badly wanted to say, "HELLO? Are you crazy lady? Do you not see that I'm getting ready to this too?" Needless to say, I was mildly freaking out by now. I was not in good shape after the delivery of my first and very much wanted to be done with this part.
We finally got a room, and they started everything right away. My doctor showed up and broke my water before I even had an IV. Even though joked with my doctor about wanting a baby by noon, I was expecting this take a while and the process to be slow. I also, knew this baby had been knocking on the front door for a while now and I could be surprised. The contractions quickly got more intense. Every time my nurse came into the room she suggested a different position or walking or rocking in the chair. Somehow, I made it along until the next time she would come in and I did something else. In between contractions I felt pretty good. Then it happened....I felt pressure. I was smart enough to know that the epidural probably wasn't an option at this point. My nurse helped me back into the bed and that was the beginning of the worst 45 minutes of my life! (Yes, I am being a bit dramatic, but if you did it you would be too!) I didn't open my eyes the whole time. Despite my husband vigorously rubbing my arms, both of them had gone completely numb. I couldn't move my arms or fingers. This is when I realized that my body was shutting down from the pain.....I was sure I was going to die. (Again dramatic but true.) I had to push and my doctor wasn't there yet. Thankfully this hospital has it's own midwife, and she had found her way to my room. She was ready to deliver the baby if needed. Two seconds later my doctor rushed into the room just in time for one push and baby was out! At 2:42 I delivered a 6lbs 9oz baby boy with no complications. (Aside from the near death experience.) The midwife was shaking me and telling me to open my eyes and it was all over. My husband immediately announced that was the most awesome experience ever, and got one dirty look from me. As close as I had been to death, just like that I was back. After a few seconds I stopped thinking about me an realized I hadn't heard the baby cry at all. I asked if he was okay and a nurse looked over her shoulder and informed me he was fine, but he was the most stunned baby she had every seen.
Still "stunned" my son cried for the first 3 hours of his life straight. I was starting to get a little worried that this could be some glimpse into his personality, but the nurse assured me that this is one of the things you see with a "non-drugged" baby. Sure enough he managed to settle down enough to meet his big sister later and my mom. He was such a cute little baby. I don't know if I've ever seen a baby look so much like a man before! He had skin all wrinkled up that needed to be grown into, and a little receding hairline on the sides.
He's not a baby anymore! It's sad and exciting to think about how much he's changed in just one year, and how much he will change in the next year to come. He's added so much life to our home.
He has two speeds: Running and Sleeping.
He loves anything that has to do with sports and teasing his older sister by taking her things.
He is extremely curious as to how things work and is always trying to figure it out.
He's not much of a talker, but communicates all the important stuff.
He loves being a big brother too. I can see him and my youngest being really close when they get older.
He loves his daddy and pretends to do everything just like him.
He's our early riser and good eater.
In our house he's known as "Big Man" and we're so glad God added him to our family.
I can't wait to see all the trouble he's going to get into in the future. (I can see many stitches and a few broken bones in store for us.)
Being a mother to two was soooo different, but in a good way. I remember feeling like it wasn't easier but it felt more natural. A kid for every parent. A child on each knee. It fit well. Then a mere 5 months later we found out it was all going to change.........again.........
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Faith Like a Child
Faith.
For being such a simple word it sure is hard. Just when I feel confident in my faith something happens and it doesn't take but two hot seconds for me to start doubting again. I doubt myself, sometimes my beliefs, I doubt God and his presence or concern for my life. It takes work to reel myself back in to how I know I need to think. Sometimes I just picture God saying, "I got this, Maggie. Just like I had the thing before, and like I'll get the next thing to come."
Why, however, is it so easy for kids to have faith? My children have a raw unhindered faith in my husband and I as their parents. The other day I was going down the stairs holding my 9 month old. As I neared the end, I went bounding fast down the last few to jostle her around just so I could hear her infectious giggle. As I started going faster, she let go of me and put her arms in the air with her head back laughing continuously. She trusts me that I wont let go of her. In fact, I know it didn't event enter her mind. She let go and had an amazingly free experience. Why can't I do this? As God carries me through life, why do I hold on so tightly? And, when the bumps in road come, I cling harder in fear of getting hurt or being let down or worse....loosing control. Imagine having a faith where I just let go. Experience to the fullest of what I'm supposed to out of every situation. It might even put a smile on my face.
Not but an hour later, my husband came home from work and started playing with the kids. I was cooking dinner and peaked into the playroom to see him holding my son (2 years old) by one ankle upside down and swinging him around. This was not an unusual sight in this house, but I couldn't help but notice the joy on my sons face as he flew through the air. He completely trusted his daddy to not drop him or put him in harms way in any way. So much so, he was thrilled to be dangling by his foot upside down and asked him to do it again as soon as he was put down. Sometimes I think we miss out on some of the fun that God intended for us because of our lack of faith.
That night we had a bad thunderstorm, and my 4 year old ended up sleeping on our bedroom floor. In the morning I said to her, "You know what thunder is, and you know that it can't hurt you, so why were so scared last night?" She replied, "I don't know it just made me feel better to be close to you." I loved her response. You see in reality I am as helpless as she is when compared to Mother Nature, but she didn't expect me to stop the storm or make it go away. She just wanted to be close. Wouldn't it be wonderful if when the storms of life blow in and thunder hits so close the house shakes, I just set up camp at the foot of Jesus? Not because I expect him to make the storm stop (which he can!) but because just being close brings comfort.
What a challenge.
To have the unhindered all trusting faith of a child.
So the next time God goes bounding down the stairs....Let go and laugh loudly.
The next time He hangs me upside down by my ankles.....enjoy every minute.
The next time the skies get dark and the winds blow hard....run to His presence.
Challenge accepted!
For being such a simple word it sure is hard. Just when I feel confident in my faith something happens and it doesn't take but two hot seconds for me to start doubting again. I doubt myself, sometimes my beliefs, I doubt God and his presence or concern for my life. It takes work to reel myself back in to how I know I need to think. Sometimes I just picture God saying, "I got this, Maggie. Just like I had the thing before, and like I'll get the next thing to come."
Why, however, is it so easy for kids to have faith? My children have a raw unhindered faith in my husband and I as their parents. The other day I was going down the stairs holding my 9 month old. As I neared the end, I went bounding fast down the last few to jostle her around just so I could hear her infectious giggle. As I started going faster, she let go of me and put her arms in the air with her head back laughing continuously. She trusts me that I wont let go of her. In fact, I know it didn't event enter her mind. She let go and had an amazingly free experience. Why can't I do this? As God carries me through life, why do I hold on so tightly? And, when the bumps in road come, I cling harder in fear of getting hurt or being let down or worse....loosing control. Imagine having a faith where I just let go. Experience to the fullest of what I'm supposed to out of every situation. It might even put a smile on my face.
Not but an hour later, my husband came home from work and started playing with the kids. I was cooking dinner and peaked into the playroom to see him holding my son (2 years old) by one ankle upside down and swinging him around. This was not an unusual sight in this house, but I couldn't help but notice the joy on my sons face as he flew through the air. He completely trusted his daddy to not drop him or put him in harms way in any way. So much so, he was thrilled to be dangling by his foot upside down and asked him to do it again as soon as he was put down. Sometimes I think we miss out on some of the fun that God intended for us because of our lack of faith.
That night we had a bad thunderstorm, and my 4 year old ended up sleeping on our bedroom floor. In the morning I said to her, "You know what thunder is, and you know that it can't hurt you, so why were so scared last night?" She replied, "I don't know it just made me feel better to be close to you." I loved her response. You see in reality I am as helpless as she is when compared to Mother Nature, but she didn't expect me to stop the storm or make it go away. She just wanted to be close. Wouldn't it be wonderful if when the storms of life blow in and thunder hits so close the house shakes, I just set up camp at the foot of Jesus? Not because I expect him to make the storm stop (which he can!) but because just being close brings comfort.
What a challenge.
To have the unhindered all trusting faith of a child.
So the next time God goes bounding down the stairs....Let go and laugh loudly.
The next time He hangs me upside down by my ankles.....enjoy every minute.
The next time the skies get dark and the winds blow hard....run to His presence.
Challenge accepted!
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Today, I have a four year old!
Four years ago today my water broke and my husband and I began a 17 hour journey to parenthood. I've heard my own "birth story" 26 (almost 27) times, told to me every year by my mom. I have vivid memories of rolling my eyes as she told me how she curled her hair before going to the hospital because she didn't know any better and then described in detail the horror of 24 painful hours of all natural back labor before I came into the world. I never understood why she felt the need to relive that every year....then it happened to me! Needless to say, I totally get it now!
There's something about reliving the nervous excitement mixed with sheer panic that only giving birth can provide. So, here's an extremely shortened version:
Four days before my due date I stopped working. For three of those days I did nothing but watch movies and bounce on an exercise ball. My husband and I were watching a movie one day before my due date when my water broke. I really thought that meant we'd be holding a baby soon. After all, in the movies when someone's water brakes they have about 5 painful contractions and then a three month old, dry, cute, cooing baby pops out. What no movie shows is a women whose water broke 12 hrs ago and is still only 4cm dilated......I opted for the epidural around hour 15 (5 hrs on Pitocin). My nurse kept reminding me that this was my first baby and I could push for 3 hours!! (I kept the "ARE YOU NUTS?" to myself!) Around 4:00pm it finally was time to start pushing. After 1 "practice" push I heard, "STOP PUSHING!" I watched two nurses and my doctor frantically open packages and run around for a minute and then I was told to push again. Quickly followed by, "STOP PUSHING!" again. Her head was out and her shoulders were stuck. My doctor shared a not so subtle nod to my nurse who pushed the Code button on the wall, and all of a sudden I DID feel like I was in a movie. People started running into the room, my husband was pushed out of the way, and everyone got serious. My nurse was 8 months pregnant with twins so the next person to come in the room jumped on the bed with me. My doctor counted to 3 and the nurse jumped on my stomach. Not pushed, not applied pressure, but JUMPED!! Her knees left the bed...I know....I was there. At that moment I thanked God for the decision to get the epidural as I surely would have not survived what just happened. Out shot a 7lb 10oz baby girl! There was more running around for a few minutes and then just as fast as they all came, they all went away.
My perfectly fine daughter spent the first hour of her life in her daddy's arms (I was being attended to, and yes it did take that long!) it was love at first sight for those two, and he's still her favorite person! Becoming a parent was surreal. This little person is a mix of my husband I (this means she needs some extra prayer!), and a gift from God. What a responsibility, and what a blessing!
My husband gave her the nickname "Chili Pepper". This fits her perfectly. She adds so much flavor to our life. Having her makes everything just a little bit more special. She's hot and spicy and keeps you wanted more of her, however if you get the raw thing....it can be....um.....a little to much, and leave you needed a large glass of water to cool down! She has turned into quite an amazing little girl in these few short years of her life. She brightens our home and brings joy to our everyday! She is a natural born leader, and loves having her little brother and sister along on her latest journeyg's. She has an amazing imagination and loves to snuggle. She has been a huge challenge and an even greater joy. I can't believe God has trusted her in our care, and I can't wait to see what He does with the rest of her life. I feel blessed to have a front row seat for it.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Balancing the "Mommy guilt"
Apparently I have severely underestimated my ability to carve out 30 minutes a week to write on this blog. I'm going to go ahead and blame the baby for teething with a double ear infection, the toddler for transitioning into a "big boy" bead, and the 4 year old birthday party in less than 2 weeks. This would explain why I've been slipping into a coma-like state come 8:30pm every night.
Tonight I was determined to grab a snack and settle down to start typing. What I realized when I sat down was that it was driven by a certain kind of "Mommy guilt". Not the normal: "I don't provide organic snacks and perfectly educationally stimulating activities for my children every day" guilt, but the reverse kind. The "you need to take care of yourself" kind. Lately I've been getting hit from both sides. Do more for my family and home? or do more for me?
Sure I could stay up late every night making homemade fresh organic goodies for the next day, but my marriage would start to suffer and surely my sanity wouldn't be far behind. It's so easy to log into Pinterest and start pinning away all the good intentions in my head. Every closet organized with a purpose and perfect functionality, my children's rooms magazine perfect, the garden, the craft corner, the laundry room, even a better "junk" drawer. It always starts out innocent enough. When I have time for one of these projects I'll know where to find it now. But, all to fast it turns into discontentment, or discouragement, or "mommy guilt". Why doesn't my house look like my pin boards? What's wrong with me that I can't find time to glue gun, modge podge, cut, crinkle, bake, cook, and create my way to a better home? (I have three answers, and they're all sleeping upstairs.)
In my not so strong moments, yes, I think these things. I feel the guilt. Am I letting my family down by not providing such an environment? Then there's the other kind of guilt. "Why don't you have a hobby?" I ask myself this a lot. Well, most hobbies take time. This is something I really don't have much of and to be quite honest, when I do get it I would choose sleep over scrapbooking any day. This can't be healthy right? Many articles and other blog posts have been focusing on the importance of taking time for yourself. After all, if you don't take care of yourself you can't take care of others. Right? Or is this some notion to hide behind? Is there something wrong with sacrifice?
I'm having a crazy time balancing it all. Pour myself into my family and home. Pour myself into myself. I believe I just struck the key word. BALANCE! This is where I am. I want the best for my family and will provide it to the best of my ability. To reach that ability it also means I have to do some things for myself. (Does this mean I need a pedicure every few weeks? I think not....Another post for another time.) At the end of the day while I'm laying in that coma-like state....I have to remind myself that I'm the very mom my kids need. And my kids are very kids that I need. My husband is my partner and I need him. I'll do what I can to make my home a homey welcoming place to open to friends and for my children to enjoy and remember, but I wont sacrifice reading books and building forts to get it. I'm done feeling guilty for giving my kids goldfish and not having pictures up on my bedroom walls. After all, I have three little kids and sometimes that's just hard....and I'm okay with that.
Now I have couch calling my name.
Tonight I was determined to grab a snack and settle down to start typing. What I realized when I sat down was that it was driven by a certain kind of "Mommy guilt". Not the normal: "I don't provide organic snacks and perfectly educationally stimulating activities for my children every day" guilt, but the reverse kind. The "you need to take care of yourself" kind. Lately I've been getting hit from both sides. Do more for my family and home? or do more for me?
Sure I could stay up late every night making homemade fresh organic goodies for the next day, but my marriage would start to suffer and surely my sanity wouldn't be far behind. It's so easy to log into Pinterest and start pinning away all the good intentions in my head. Every closet organized with a purpose and perfect functionality, my children's rooms magazine perfect, the garden, the craft corner, the laundry room, even a better "junk" drawer. It always starts out innocent enough. When I have time for one of these projects I'll know where to find it now. But, all to fast it turns into discontentment, or discouragement, or "mommy guilt". Why doesn't my house look like my pin boards? What's wrong with me that I can't find time to glue gun, modge podge, cut, crinkle, bake, cook, and create my way to a better home? (I have three answers, and they're all sleeping upstairs.)
In my not so strong moments, yes, I think these things. I feel the guilt. Am I letting my family down by not providing such an environment? Then there's the other kind of guilt. "Why don't you have a hobby?" I ask myself this a lot. Well, most hobbies take time. This is something I really don't have much of and to be quite honest, when I do get it I would choose sleep over scrapbooking any day. This can't be healthy right? Many articles and other blog posts have been focusing on the importance of taking time for yourself. After all, if you don't take care of yourself you can't take care of others. Right? Or is this some notion to hide behind? Is there something wrong with sacrifice?
I'm having a crazy time balancing it all. Pour myself into my family and home. Pour myself into myself. I believe I just struck the key word. BALANCE! This is where I am. I want the best for my family and will provide it to the best of my ability. To reach that ability it also means I have to do some things for myself. (Does this mean I need a pedicure every few weeks? I think not....Another post for another time.) At the end of the day while I'm laying in that coma-like state....I have to remind myself that I'm the very mom my kids need. And my kids are very kids that I need. My husband is my partner and I need him. I'll do what I can to make my home a homey welcoming place to open to friends and for my children to enjoy and remember, but I wont sacrifice reading books and building forts to get it. I'm done feeling guilty for giving my kids goldfish and not having pictures up on my bedroom walls. After all, I have three little kids and sometimes that's just hard....and I'm okay with that.
Now I have couch calling my name.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Time Goes By....
TIME.
It's a word I've been thinking a lot about recently. The concept seems simple enough. No matter how much it seems to be standing still the next minute is still a mere 60 seconds away. Even though time has not changed, our perception of it sure does. I am rarely satisfied with my time. I'm either looking forward to the next thing hoping beyond hope that time would go faster, "My vacation is in two weeks, but I wish I were on the beach now!" or I wish it would slow down, "If I only had time for sleep, I would feel more rested!" But regardless of how hard I wish, it stays the same. I always get a chuckle when my husband calls me from work in the afternoon and says, "Wow, I can't believe it's already 2:30! This day sure has flown by." My first thought is "2:30?!?! That's it? Feels like it should be bedtime already!" Now we both lived in the same exact time but have very different perspectives of it. .
This is only in the context of one day. What about the years. My daughter is almost 4. In some regards I can't believe she's going to be 4. It seems like yesterday she was crawling around with drool hanging out of mouth, but at the same time it's hard for me to imagine life before her and it was only 4 years ago. On one hand it seems long and the on the other very short.
Yesterday was Mother's Day and we dedicated our youngest at church. After the dedication we received a packet with a certificate, a Bible, and a sealed letter. This letter is addressed to our daughter from our pastor for her to open on her 10th birthday. "To be opened on October 5, 2021". 2021? My husband and I both looked at each other. "That's so weird!", he said. All I could think was in 10 short years she'll go from this spit-upy mess to a person with her own thoughts and feelings about life and God. She will actually be able to read this letter herself!
No matter how much I want it to speed up (oh how I would love to go out to eat with our children and sit and talk with no fits and spills) or slow down (sometimes I just want to hang on to the baby lotion and snuggles and bottle it forever), time marches on. Once its gone. Its gone. You can't get the last second back any more than you can make the next second come faster. All we have is the now. So the question is: What will I do with it?
I want to choose to live in every present moment for what it is. I want to stop wishing my seconds away. Instead, I choose to embrace the feverish baby at 3am that just needs snuggled, and on those really hard days when my children turn against me, I choose to be thankful that I'm at home and get to experience those hard days so I can fully appreciate the good ones. I choose to hug and kiss my kids as much as I can so they will never question how I feel about them and because October 5th 2021 will be here soon enough. And, I choose to give these precious moments of time over to God. That His name will be glorified with the time I have here.
And time goes by...
It's a word I've been thinking a lot about recently. The concept seems simple enough. No matter how much it seems to be standing still the next minute is still a mere 60 seconds away. Even though time has not changed, our perception of it sure does. I am rarely satisfied with my time. I'm either looking forward to the next thing hoping beyond hope that time would go faster, "My vacation is in two weeks, but I wish I were on the beach now!" or I wish it would slow down, "If I only had time for sleep, I would feel more rested!" But regardless of how hard I wish, it stays the same. I always get a chuckle when my husband calls me from work in the afternoon and says, "Wow, I can't believe it's already 2:30! This day sure has flown by." My first thought is "2:30?!?! That's it? Feels like it should be bedtime already!" Now we both lived in the same exact time but have very different perspectives of it. .
This is only in the context of one day. What about the years. My daughter is almost 4. In some regards I can't believe she's going to be 4. It seems like yesterday she was crawling around with drool hanging out of mouth, but at the same time it's hard for me to imagine life before her and it was only 4 years ago. On one hand it seems long and the on the other very short.
Yesterday was Mother's Day and we dedicated our youngest at church. After the dedication we received a packet with a certificate, a Bible, and a sealed letter. This letter is addressed to our daughter from our pastor for her to open on her 10th birthday. "To be opened on October 5, 2021". 2021? My husband and I both looked at each other. "That's so weird!", he said. All I could think was in 10 short years she'll go from this spit-upy mess to a person with her own thoughts and feelings about life and God. She will actually be able to read this letter herself!
No matter how much I want it to speed up (oh how I would love to go out to eat with our children and sit and talk with no fits and spills) or slow down (sometimes I just want to hang on to the baby lotion and snuggles and bottle it forever), time marches on. Once its gone. Its gone. You can't get the last second back any more than you can make the next second come faster. All we have is the now. So the question is: What will I do with it?
I want to choose to live in every present moment for what it is. I want to stop wishing my seconds away. Instead, I choose to embrace the feverish baby at 3am that just needs snuggled, and on those really hard days when my children turn against me, I choose to be thankful that I'm at home and get to experience those hard days so I can fully appreciate the good ones. I choose to hug and kiss my kids as much as I can so they will never question how I feel about them and because October 5th 2021 will be here soon enough. And, I choose to give these precious moments of time over to God. That His name will be glorified with the time I have here.
And time goes by...
Monday, April 30, 2012
Black tights, Spit-up, and Peanut butter stains...The Lord Gives Strength
"Lord, give me strength." This is the prayer I say many times a day. Sometimes it's muttered under my breath, said in my head, or shouted out loud. Let's face it. I don't leave the house very much with three kids by myself. This means that our home is definitely the biggest source of influence in our children's lives. Knowing this we try to promote a gospel-centered atmosphere. I love playing praise and worship music and hearing my daughter sing along. We pray before meals together and read the Bible often. Another piece to this puzzle is prayer. I know that our kids will learn to pray from us. Now, prayer has always been a struggle of mine. I don't do quiet and still very well. But, prayer doesn't always have to be this way. I've started just praying out loud in front of my children throughout the day. "Lord, give me strength" has seemed to be a favorite. This has also become a good parenting tool. I can already see it in my daughters eyes, "Oh no! Mom's praying for strength again! Better straighten up!"
A few weeks ago, we were headed out the house for a MOPS meeting. I love going to MOPS because everyone there understands if you walk in late without having had a shower. This particular morning my children chose to sleep until 8:30 (of course!). As they woke up I quickly dressed each one and hurried them downstairs. I fed the two little ones breakfast while my daughter decided that black tights would go well with her sundress and attempted to put them on by herself. This ended up with her screaming and flailing around on the floor.
"Lord, give me strength."
So, I trucked the the others up the stairs to help her and change myself. (I can't change until the moment I walk out the door because my baby spits-up like it's her job.) After 20 minutes I finally calmed the tights situation and went to put my clothes on. As I was carrying two children down the stairs, (Yes, my almost two-year old is capable of doing it himself, but if I'm there, he stands at the top and screams until I carry him down.) the baby spits-up all down my arm.
"Lord, give me strength."
After careful consideration I decided to wipe it up and not change my shirt. In comparison to what she's capable of, it wasn't that bad. The really bad ones require a complete outfit change of her and me. You know it's bad when you have to change your underwear too! I herded everyone into the car, strapped in three carseats and we were off! Always a successful feeling! After a minute or two my daughter says, "Mommy, I didn't have any breakfast."
"Lord, give me strength."
Yikes! I forgot to feed one of my kids! Thank goodness she isn't much a breakfast eater, and in our car there's always a snack bowl of something laying around. As I pulled into the church parking lot I caught a whiff of a familiar smell. Sure enough when I carried my son down the stairs he had put his little dirty hand on my shoulder and there was peanut butter smeared all over my shirt.
"Lord, give me strength."
Nothing a wet wipe can't fix! I dropped all three kids off, and felt particularly anxious to have some time with other moms this morning.
Now it just so happened that this particular day when we got home, all three kids fell asleep for 2 hours. Whether it's a longer nap, a hug and kiss, a giggling match, or daddy coming home early, there's always something for me to be thankful for. With three little kids every day has it's hard moments, but there's always a one-lined prayer and a God who promises to hear.
"Lord, give me strength."
So, I trucked the the others up the stairs to help her and change myself. (I can't change until the moment I walk out the door because my baby spits-up like it's her job.) After 20 minutes I finally calmed the tights situation and went to put my clothes on. As I was carrying two children down the stairs, (Yes, my almost two-year old is capable of doing it himself, but if I'm there, he stands at the top and screams until I carry him down.) the baby spits-up all down my arm.
"Lord, give me strength."
After careful consideration I decided to wipe it up and not change my shirt. In comparison to what she's capable of, it wasn't that bad. The really bad ones require a complete outfit change of her and me. You know it's bad when you have to change your underwear too! I herded everyone into the car, strapped in three carseats and we were off! Always a successful feeling! After a minute or two my daughter says, "Mommy, I didn't have any breakfast."
"Lord, give me strength."
Yikes! I forgot to feed one of my kids! Thank goodness she isn't much a breakfast eater, and in our car there's always a snack bowl of something laying around. As I pulled into the church parking lot I caught a whiff of a familiar smell. Sure enough when I carried my son down the stairs he had put his little dirty hand on my shoulder and there was peanut butter smeared all over my shirt.
"Lord, give me strength."
Nothing a wet wipe can't fix! I dropped all three kids off, and felt particularly anxious to have some time with other moms this morning.
Now it just so happened that this particular day when we got home, all three kids fell asleep for 2 hours. Whether it's a longer nap, a hug and kiss, a giggling match, or daddy coming home early, there's always something for me to be thankful for. With three little kids every day has it's hard moments, but there's always a one-lined prayer and a God who promises to hear.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Grace in the Moment
A few weeks ago, I had the privileged of putting my 3 year old to bed. Now, I say that with all sincerity. Most nights I'm nursing the baby when it's bedtime, and my husband heads up the stories, books, prayers and songs routine before bed. However, this particular night I was available, and marched her up the stairs looking forward to spending some extra time chatting. I read her one of her favorite books, and then we started talking about all the things we were going to do the next day. We prayed together for a good nights sleep and good choices the next day and then we did our kisses routine. We do heart kisses (her own invention), butterfly kisses, muga muga kisses, and blowing kisses. I felt very good about our time together, and I said goodnight and turned to leave and when it happened. "I need some water" came a tiny voice. I took a deep breath and got her some water. Then turned to leave again. "Mommmmmmmmmy, can you sing me our favorite song?" My first thought was REALLY???? I just spent the last 15 minutes giving you my undivided attention, and you're going to start pulling this tonight? Again deep breath. Oh how quickly my good feeling was quickly turning to impatience and frustration. I had a lot of things to do. The kitchen needed cleaned and I had a stack of mail to go through. Like any mother of young children, I covet the hours from 8:30 to 10:30pm. I knew she was taking advantage of me being there, so I then clarified with her that after the song I would be going. I sang the song, kissed her again, and left the room. I was about 4 steps down the stairs when I hear, "Mommmmmy". I turned and was fully ready to enter the room and announce the age old, "You will go to bed right now, or else...." when I stopped. Something inside me (most likely the Holy Spirit) stopped me. I calmed myself with again a deep breath, and I entered the room to calmly ask what was needed. She reply's, "I love you mommy, goodnight" in a sweet voice. After responding I left the room, and again around the 4th step down I stopped, and was almost driven to tears when I thought how close I came to missing that blessing. If I had barged in with a stern voice and threats, I know I would have never heard those words. How many of those moments have I missed in the past because I respond in frustration, anger, impatience, or sometimes just tiredness?
My heart broke.
This is the opposite of what I want to be accomplishing as parent. I want to foster a relationship where my children can talk to me freely about anything, anytime, anywhere. But, do I really act that way? Do I show them that I'm available like that? Or do I constantly communicate that I have something better to do?
Gut check.
Now I know she's only 3 years old and we're talking about a drink of water before bed, but I also know that all to soon she'll be 10 and need to talk about a friend hurting her feelings, or 15 and it'll be that boy in science class. Or what about when it's the big questions, like: Why isn't God answering my prayers? What will I communicate to her then? Will she see the laundry and clean toilets as more important than her? Or will I be able to drop everything, pull the carton of ice cream from the freezer, and listen? I pray in those moments I will be able to stop again. I know in the future I will most likely do or say something that discourages my child from communicating, but I can confidently say I will make sure that it will happen less often. And, I will continue to pray that God gives me grace so I can give my children grace in the moment.
My heart broke.
This is the opposite of what I want to be accomplishing as parent. I want to foster a relationship where my children can talk to me freely about anything, anytime, anywhere. But, do I really act that way? Do I show them that I'm available like that? Or do I constantly communicate that I have something better to do?
Gut check.
Now I know she's only 3 years old and we're talking about a drink of water before bed, but I also know that all to soon she'll be 10 and need to talk about a friend hurting her feelings, or 15 and it'll be that boy in science class. Or what about when it's the big questions, like: Why isn't God answering my prayers? What will I communicate to her then? Will she see the laundry and clean toilets as more important than her? Or will I be able to drop everything, pull the carton of ice cream from the freezer, and listen? I pray in those moments I will be able to stop again. I know in the future I will most likely do or say something that discourages my child from communicating, but I can confidently say I will make sure that it will happen less often. And, I will continue to pray that God gives me grace so I can give my children grace in the moment.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
The start of something new!
So....I finally did it! I've been wanting to start a blog for some time now. Sometimes I have this stirring in my soul to write. Get it out. Get it down on paper. I hear so often how many mothers cannot remember details from when their kids were little. "A blurry fog" they say. There are things I hope I don't remember or wouldn't mind forgetting.Like:
-when my patience runs thin and I snap at my three year old for changing shoes 5 times when we needed to be out the door 10 minutes ago,
or
-the occasional emotional breakdown I have to my husband late at night because I feel like a failure of a homemaker since there's not fresh bread baking and perfectly folded fitted sheets in the closet.
Yeah, I'm okay forgetting those things.
However, there's so much I don't want to forget.
Like:
-slobbery kisses
-chubby little hands reaching up to be held and comforted
-giggling
- first steps
-fort building
-puppet shows; and I could go on and on.
I guess there are many poor choices on my part that I hope go blurry, but my prayer is the experience of mothering young children always stays fresh and clear in my mind. Nothing has taught me more about myself then becoming a mom. Nothing has made me stand in awe of God more then the parallels that can be drawn from my parental role to God's parental role. Maybe in some way, recording these thoughts while I'm elbow deep in diapers, spit-up, and cheerios will help me to remember more vividly what it was like looking back. I invite you down this journey with me. Welcome to my mind....it's a scary place!! : )
3 side notes:
1. Do you like how technologically advanced this blog is? Clearly a skill I am gifted in, right?
2. I had to laugh that I couldn't find one recent picture of just myself. Not even one that could be cropped and looked good. I always have a kids face smashed up against mine! Love it!
3. I bet you're wondering about the "no hair" bit in the blog address. First, it's hard to find a name that hasn't already been used so I had to get a little creative. I have no hair for 3 reasons. 1. My baby is 6 months old and for me that means my hair starts falling out in sheets. 2. I swear I will go bald one chubby little handful of hair at a time. 3. What little hair I have left after hormones and fist yanks, I will undoubtedly pull out myself on those um.....challenging days.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)