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.

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.

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.