Wash Day

I dislike dwelling on the negative in my life. Honestly, I am blessed with so much daily grace, and my children are full of love for each other and our family. In the interest of giving a transparent look into our foster adoption, I'm going to be real for a moment.

Life in my house is a mess! 

We tend to have several decent days in a row, and by decent I mean that we have no physical fights or raging meltdowns from anyone. Is it sad that I call it a win when no one screams at or hits anyone?

Every few days, we have a "wash day", the kind that leaves me so overwhelmed that I can barely make myself sleep because I know I have to wake up to do it all over again in the morning.

On these days, the boys are typically extra irritable. The teasing, kid-parenting, and hatefulness are ridiculous, and I am baffled by their seeming inability to just LEAVE EACH OTHER ALONE! On wash days, Amos and I spend the majority of our time refereeing the boys and trying to keep the girls from jumping in and dog-piling the arguments. It's a whole lot of awesome.

Wash days consume two days because it takes my crew a day or so to recover. I am beyond blessed by my weekday respite while the kids are at school, but the aftermath of wash days usually leaves me wanting to curl up in bed after the kids are delivered to their buildings. I usually settle for laundry and Hulu. There is always plenty of laundry.

I've watched this cycle for a few weeks now, and we are strategizing with family therapists and each other. The general consensus is that our boys are competing for Dad's attention. It seems to make sense. Mr. J is so excited to finally have a dad, and Noah has been Amos' only right-hand man for eight years. There is some major turf marking going on! Amos and I are trying to treat the problem and the behaviors simultaneously-- as much as one can ignore, nurture, and reprimand all at once.

Each week, Amos and I revamp our parenting strategies to try another approach. First we spent two weeks ignoring hatefulness that was, at the time, largely directed toward us. Next, we attempted to implement a time out strategy for all five kids. We used time out when they had any physical contact or hateful words. Most recently, we have been focusing on giving the kids choices instead of telling them "no." This has been particularly helpful with Mr. J who seems to ALWAYS require us to threaten a consequence before he will obey. It is exhausting to retrain myself AND my kids on a weekly basis, yet I am thankful to have a coach looking at our larger picture and helping us keep our heads above water.

We are weary, so weary. But I catch glimpses, when the boys are tree climbing and bike riding or when they are chuckling together over cereal bowls, of what our life will look like when the dust settles and the pieces start to fit together. When Miss A invites Miriam to play director while she practices for band, when my teenagers sit whispering together in the back of the minivan, I see the beauty that will remain when the push and pull of claiming each other subsides.

Goals and Game Plans. One Month into Pre-Adoptive Placement.

There is less newness in our house these days. I know what to expect with each day, and while I'm finding it impossible to keep up with the demands of a house and life as a family of seven, I am slowly making peace with the dishes, the piles of shoes by the doors, and the endless loads of laundry.

One day the clutter will be a priority again, but in this moment, it is trivial. 

Resting in that knowledge has given  me so much more energy this week. I am exhausted, yes, but I do not feel to-my-core worn out like I did last week.

Last week, we were clearly transitioning out of honeymooning (finally!), so there were days of watching and learning and bracing myself.

This week, we have a goal and a game plan. 

Our younger three have resorted to pretty hateful language when they are not getting their way. Outbursts can range from "This is stupid" to "I hate you" and may be directed toward each other or toward Amos and I. They have also begun to intentionally get under A's skin, and her response is not always pretty. These new parenting demands have left J on the sidelines much of the time. We consulted our experts and decided that these behaviors are partly habit but mostly attention seeking efforts. The suggestion was to completely ignore all angry words used when the kids are upset. The counselor asked me if I thought the kids were all getting enough one-on-one attention. That question struck at my heart.

WHAT??? 

I am SUPPOSED to be able to give all FIVE of them enough one-on-one attention right now? 

Is that seriously a reasonable expectation of me a month into our new life? 

NO, sir, I am not giving them enough one-on-one attention. 

I am lucky to give them all breakfast and clean socks in the morning!

After I got over feeling like a failure, I sat back and reflected on our parenting. It is not new for me to feel like the kids need my attention every moment of every day, and it is not new for me to be on the receiving end of verbal anger from both Noah and Miriam. In the last couple weeks, those angry behaviors have escalated dramatically, but they have always been present to a lesser degree. I always thought that these behaviors stemmed from Noah's general personality and possibly his giftedness which often comes with a lag in social skills. And I just assumed that Miriam had mirrored his behavior. It may very well have started this way, but I'm pretty certain that I've allowed it to become a habit. 

This week, I have one goal-

1. Decrease the number of hateful outbursts in our family

This week, I have a game plan-

1. Avoid giving any attention in response to angry outbursts.

2. Coach the kids on ignoring ugliness from one another instead of responding.

3. Institute a weekly FAMILY NIGHT. 

4. Check in with both boys, one-on-one, every day. 

I'm feeling pretty good about how our last couple days have gone. We've had several outbursts, but I've been able to connect to the kids on the receiving end and coach them through the drama. Sweet A usually ends up blowing her top before the behavior subsides, but even she successfully distracted herself in the car last night while Miriam was doing her best to get under my skin. It's going to be a slow process, but I have faith that these outbursts will begin to decrease and eventually dissipate. 

Navigating Christian Parenting

28 'Come to me, all you who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest.

29 Shoulder my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

30 Yes, my yoke is easy and my burden light.'

Yesterday's gospel reading (Matthew 11: 25-30)... God's perfect timing once again. I sat listening to message of giving our sorrows and burdens to God... and taking up His yoke of LOVE and FORGIVENESS. 

Delivered with simplicity, the words have settled in my heart. I need to get better at remembering that burdens and labors are part of life, and that it's OK to be at peace while I work through them. My success at this ebbs and flows, perhaps because I've been trying share the burden with my God but haven't replaced its weight with the absolute beauty and feather-lightness of Jesus' love and mercy. 

When it comes to raising children, I struggle so intensely with what is looks like to give them grace and serve them in Jesus' image. Sometimes I wish Jesus been married with a brood of little ones. What I wouldn't give to have that concrete image of him correcting children. He loved and welcomed then, no doubt, and taught extensively about Christian family and parenting. In the midst of defiance, tantrums, or disobedience when our kids don't seem to be responding to love and mercy, I loose sight of all the lessons. I keep correcting with love as best I can, but sometimes I feel like a pushover and wonder if I should be yelling or punishing more harshly or if I'm at all cut out for the task of mothering. In the midst of all the struggle, I forget that marriage and family is my calling. I don't stop to pray in the middle of getting an eight year old to brush his teeth. I shake my head and wonder why in the world we're STILL struggling with this after eight years of teeth brushing, and I never think to offer it up in the moment. 

These children are not my own, they are God's, and I am to be an instrument of His love to them, just like our priest was a vessel for God's message yesterday. 

The Christian family is a community of faith, hope and charity. I need to get better at keeping that image in the front of my mind and demonstrating it to my children. 

When I can let go of the heavy, helplessness of our trials and channel Christ's love and forgiveness, parenting gets simpler, more joyful, and (go figure) more effective. God's good like that. 

After the closing song yesterday, I knelt with Miriam and prayed that God would provide the grace we need to take up Jesus' yoke of gentleness and humbleness of heart. 

Mamma Always Says: A Random Act of Kindness

I could make subway art out of the sentences I speak on repeat. 

Love like God loves. 

Be sweet or be quiet. Worry about your own behavior. Stay in bed, stay still, stay quiet. 

Sentences like these get repeated so often that my kiddos probably don't even really hear them anymore. Yesterday, a tiny conversation proved one sentence true, and it will stick in with my Noah's memory for a long time to come. 

You never know what privileges you might get.

Amos and I took Noah shopping for a watch yesterday. He chose a pocket watch of all things and was pretty thrilled with his discovery. 

We ducked into one last store where Noah struck up a conversation with a gentleman who was also shopping there. I watched and listened as the man complimented Noah's style, suggested he be an actor someday. Noah said maybe a train conductor with his pocket watch. They talked about Noah's hat, and Noah said he'd really like to have a top hat someday. The guy was tickled with Noah's demeanor. I was very happy as I watched Noah be so respectful and confident.

The sweet and silly conversation paused for a bit but continued when we ended up leaving the store at the same time. Introductions were made, hand shakes were shared. Then "Coach Mac" pulled a crisp $20 bill from his wallet and held it out to my son. 

"Noah, I'd like to give you this to help you get that top hat."

My seven-year-olds eyes were excited. Hesitant. Disbelieving. After a little nod of approval from me, he timidly took the bill and said a genuine thank you. The two parted ways, and Noah was left pondering what had taken place in the last few minutes. 

"Why would he do that?" We talked to our son about his behavior in the store, how friendly he was and how well mannered. I asked Noah what he thought might have happened if he'd been whining or throwing a fit or running wild through the store. 

As we approached our car, Noah told me, "You're right, Mom. You never know what privileges you might get." 

That $20 bill is safely inside Noah's bank tonight, and apparently we're in the market for a top hat. 

Empty Nest.. ish.

It feels CRAZY to have three kids in school. I might be sad about not being needed if I weren't so busy soaking up the silence and the luxury of cleaning my house alone. Days like these may very well be fleeting after all! 

Silly Miriam was such a trooper for the first day. She did a pretty great job of staying happy during the morning routine and was happy to pose with her Kindergarten sign before we left for school.

Miriam was sweet and excited to see her teacher when we got to her classroom, but I saw a hint of nerves under her smile. I stayed outside the room for a moment and watched her look around, take a breath, and join the other girls in their morning play time. She takes life in stride and at her own pace, and I love her for it.

Miriam and J are growing so much closer lately. It makes me happy to see J take her little sister under her wing! It's as if she turned thirteen and became this responsible young lady instead of the kid she was the day before. 

This is J's last year in middle school. I remember her first day in the building. I watched the 8th graders walk through the doors and had a little freak out moment thinking that my little girl was going to look like them in two years. And here we are. She walked through those red double doors one of the tall ones, one of the poised and confident ones. 

And then there's Noah, the goofy, determined kid who drove me crazy all summer. His hair was still wet when he buckled into the car, but his belly was full and his teeth were brushed. He walked into school with us, reciting directions to his classroom under his breath. We said goodbye by the main doors, and Noah walked off down the hallway away from the early elementary wing of the school without looking back.

These kids are my life. My love. My JOY. They might need me to be there fewer hours each day now, but they need me as much as ever. Maybe more. Now is when the parenting gets tricky. Growing up is serious business. It takes time, energy, and discipline to stay involved in my kids' lives once you're not afraid that they'll touch a hot burner or choke on their dinner. Now I have to fight the temptation to let them live alongside me instead of experiencing life with them. I struggle with that sometimes.

But right now, while we are still a five-some, I want to enjoy the simplicity and ease of living life with school-aged children. We can go more and play more. We can pack light and be spontaneous. After all, we still fit into a single hotel room. That's something worth celebrating!

The Big Stuff: Talking With My Kid About Death and Loss

There are a dozen things swirling in my mind tonight. 

We had a really great meeting with our social worker this morning and gained some great insight into foster adoption. 

My Sweet J comes home in just 21 hours. I can't express how excited we all are for her to be back under our roof! 

I've been working my tail off to create a structured bedtime routine- for myself and the kiddos- in preparation for the school year.

But what I'm thinking about most is my sweet Noah and how happy and sad I am to see him processing through losing his great-grandma. 

On Thursday, the kids and I were going with my mom to the cemetery to take wildflowers to Grandma's grave. When it came time to leave, Noah didn't want to go. He said simply, "No one else died. Why do I need to go?"  I had a feeling he was nervous about being there again, so we let him stay at work with Daddy...

...We made a run to the farm store this evening. We decided to grab pizza on the way home so dinner would not postpone our bedtime routine. While waiting for pizza, we let the kids walk on the walking path across the street. 

The plan: start from opposite ends of the path, high five when they met on the "road," and meet back at the car. 

Miriam walked about ten feet, then took off jogging in her little Old Navy flip flops. She tripped. Amos and I watched as her big brother hurried over, put his arm around her and helped her back to Mom and Dad. Her lip, knee, and hand were scraped and bleeding. There was a little crying, but the injuries were barely worth a band-aid.  Cuddles were given, pizza was purchased, and we were on our way home.

In the middle of teasing his little sister (or being scolded for it), poor Noah burst into sobbing tears, saying over and over that he was scared of dying. He didn't want to ever die.  It would be dark when he died. The five minutes we drove to get home seemed like twenty. Trying to talk Noah through his fear from the front seat of the car was less than ideal. 

I never would have guessed an event like would bring my son's grief to the surface.

When we got home, I snuggled my son on our couch until he stopped shuddering. I was glad to have the time to collect my thoughts. We have talked about Jesus, death, and Heaven many times, but this needed to be a whole different conversation. Noah and my grandma were thick as thieves. Any generous person with candy on hand is a person Noah loves, and Grandma loved Noah's silly nature and the way he'd grin and ask for "cookies for the road" when we visited. They spent lots of time visiting together. 

When you're seven and you have to bury someone so close to you, it brings up a lot of emotions and questions. 

Noah was mostly concerned with the feeling of death. He was afraid it would hurt. Scared he would die soon in his life. He couldn't imagine how he'd be able to see in Heaven without his eyes. Tough questions with no easy, logical answer. He was afraid he would be scared when he died.

We shared about our trust in God and how we know he'll be with us always and through everything. We talked about how blessed we are by Jesus' death and resurrection. How because of Him, it won't be dark after our time on Earth is over. And I told Noah Heaven is greater than anything our simple human minds can imagine. I was able to tell him how Grandma told me not so long ago that she wasn't scared of death. She'd lived a good life, and she knew where she was headed next. 

As sad as I was for Noah tonight, I was so blessed to be able to share such precious time with him! Talking to Noah about the tough stuff is when he and I connect the most. We talk honestly, share our hearts, and build trust in each other. I am so honored and thankful to be trusted with his heart it's the most difficult for him to share it.

Doubt

Today was the first rough parenting day I've had since we committed to our STARS classes. 

I set myself up for it, I admit. The kids had been without screens for a week, so I thought they would be content to watch a movie while I absorbed myself with research in the next room. What I didn't factor in were the three late nights in a row that the kids had, the early morning that Noah had in spite of the string of late nights, and the fact that Miriam was woken up instead of waking up naturally. 

She tried on his hat. Chaos ensued. Miriam was a simple fix. A minute in my room to brainstorm better ways to have handled the disagreement. Noah, on the other hand, was just a mess. Two hours later, we finished our power struggle, and he eventually laid down for the nap that I required before he could go to VBS again tonight. He woke up as my sweet, clever kid, praise God! 

In the midst of our chaos this morning, I found myself on my knees crying and asking God how in the world I was going to function with more of this. I wanted to throw in the towel, forget God's gentle nudges that I've so clearly been feeling and just go back to a predicable life where the occasional meltdown is the worst of it. Sometimes my Noah pushes me to the edge of my self control, and today I worried that another, higher maintenance kid might push me past that point. Doubt seeped into my faith and left a pit in my stomach for the large part of the afternoon. 

No matter what path we're walking, God doesn't make us go it alone! He restores my strength when it is weakened and gives me assurance when I need it the most. Tonight, for the first time, I watched Miss J get excited about sharing her room. This is huge for her as the potential of "her" space being lost has been her biggest complaint along the way. Tonight, she talked about having her little sister as a roommate with a smiling face and happy heart. The resentfulness and entitlement that I had watched and prayed about for months, years even, was gone, my doubt along with it. And I am at peace. 

Seeking Direction

Laying beside my sleeping husband a couple nights ago, my mind was wandering aimlessly, noting the to-do's of the next day, wondering about the changes ahead of us, and finally mulling over what on earth to do about our son. Abruptly, I remembered unpacking books from the final moving boxes the week before, in particular, The Power of a Praying Parent. I felt compelled to retrieve the book right then, but the fear of being too tired to mother in the morning kept me under the covers, as if that's a valid reason to resist the nudging of God.

Tonight, I sat down in the midst of the day's aftermath and opened the cover for the first time since Big Sister was a toddler. I dredged through the typical first chapter introduction, wondering if I'd be able to focus long enough to get to the meat of it. After pages of preparation scattered with scripture, I prayed the chapter's concluding prayer and meditated momentarily over the words.

Then my worries, guilt, frustrations, anger, ignorance, and lack of direction came pouring out jumbled and precise, beautiful and disgusting. I prayed for my son in a way that I never have, adding another guilt to unload through my prayer. I sat by his bed with my hand on his back, offering my son's life and my parenting for the glory of God. I cried a storm of silent tears sitting there with my hand on his little back.

Almost instantaneously, God directed me back to His path. The path that was familiar not so long ago seems so uncomfortable in this moment. Where I was wandering aimlessly through our days, our life, my son was following diligently. Oh, how I pray that he follows me as I struggle to get back on God's track with my mothering!

Pour our your heart like water in the presence of the Lord; Lift up your hands to him for the lives of your little ones. (Lamentations 2:19)

Photographing Yours

Originally posted last year...

6 Practical Tips for Photographing Your Kids

• Get way above him or down on his level. Find a chair to boost yourself, lay on your stomach, put him on a couch and kneel. Getting above him makes for bigger eyes, but in general, seeing eye to lens with your kid is a great angle.
• Lower your expectations. Don't expect a 2 year old to pose like a teenager. Go with the flow, and keep snapping. You never know what might look amazing once it's off the camera. That said...
• Have lots of ideas. Be prepared to present a high-energy, engaging experience, and your child is more likely to think of pictures as a game rather than an obligation. Just don't forget to let her be in charge so long as she's safe.
• Up the frequency, not the duration. Simply cutting time in front of your camera will do wonders for a munchkin. I find it very effective to shoot 15 minutes at a time or less, but I take portrait potential shots every couple weeks.
• Timing is Everything. Spontaneity is priceless. Notice she's in a particularly happy mood? Grab the opportunity. Love the outfit you put together, or is he having a good hair day for once? Maybe she's just miraculously stain free. Take advantage! Make sure that your child has napped and is fed if you do plan ahead.
• Appearance is (almost) everything. There is a big difference between a picture of him in jeans/solid shirt/styled hair and his underwear/favorite stained spongebob tee/bed head. Stick with simple, tastefully trendy, or bold and bright. Generally, avoid images, obvious logos, and words. Don't forget about shoes. None to match? Bare feet are better! Accessories can be a great plus too. Hats for boys or girls, belts for boys, bracelets, purses, hair bows, or rings. Just be careful not to overdo it-- unless you're going for the "found mommy's jewelry box" angle!
• Group shots-- It doesn't have to be a screaming match to get them all together. Make it a contest, game, or adventure- whatever gets them close and looking at you. Who cares if they think they're pirates? All the "Arrrg, Mateys!" are bound to make them crack a smile eventually.
• BE PATIENT. And not just for the duration of a "shoot." Getting a picture you want to hang in your house can take several tries. Just treat it like playing with your kid, and you'll end up capturing something priceless!

Independence Day Reflections

I can't begin to describe how it felt to have my family of 5 all under the same roof again this weekend. Big Sister had been at her dad's for three weeks and returned tonight for another stretch of visit, but for a brief 36 hours, we were complete again! For a day and a half, the younger two got a tiny taste of the life they're used to, the one with a big sister to direct the games... For a day and a half, I was able to listen to the theories of an almost-ten-year-old, the bizarre and the insightful. For a while, I was able to coax the laughter and silliness from a girl who has seemed out of sorts during our phone conversations.

Independence Day is always a bit of an oxymoron in my life. The years when I get to spend the holiday with Big Sister are like tiny islands in the midst of a sea of six weeks without her, and I am reminded of how much I long for independence from custody arrangements. Each year on Independence Day, I revel in being another year closer to a time when custody arrangements will be mute, when Big Sister will be an adult, fully able to make her own decisions, able to live by a visitation schedule that she chooses.

I can't blame anyone but myself, of course. After all, my decisions led her and I straight to the lives we're living... good lives, but not ones free from the scars of my poor decisions, decisions with outcomes made glorious through God's grace. Tonight, while the countryside explodes with the sparkle and glow of the celebration of freedom, I sit thinking of the empty bed upstairs and pray for God's continued hand in Big Sister's life and trust that she will continue to grow in faith, confidence, and wisdom.

Modern Day Preschools

Ok, I'm just going to rant a bit... call it frustrations from a SAHM.

I'm in the middle of the search for a preschool for Little Mister. We opted to home school this year, always with the intention of sending him to the Catholic school that Big Sister attended for six years. We truly love it there and couldn't have asked for a better foundation for her education and supplement to our religious upbringing.

Yesterday, preschool enrollment was opened to the public. I got up early, showered, did my make up, and dolled up the kids. We dropped big sister off at school, stopped by the pediatrician for shot records, and headed confidently to enroll Little Mister in the preschool program for three mornings a week. The tuition would be steep- $120/month in fact. But I felt it was worth it as we'd be introducing Little Mister to the school where he'd spend the next several years of his education. Perhaps more important, he'd be learning in an environment that shared our faith.

When I sit down to fill out the registration forms, I find no three morning option available. Huh. Only a 5 morning option for a whopping $180/month. I'm a bit thrown off and opt to write a check for a non refundable $180 to hold his spot. We visit with two of our favorite teachers, Little Mister visits the first grade classroom for a bit, and we were on our way.

Then I started to think... ponder... fester... fume. After I talked to my husband, I called to let the school know that we would not be attending preschool as they no longer offered an option that was in line with our educational needs for our kid.

Then I fumed a little more. Because here's the thing.

It is next to impossible to find a traditional preschool, at least around here. The vast majority cater to families with two employed parents and are day care/preschool combos. Not such a huge deal, right? Nope. It's a HUGE deal in this mom's opinion. You see, the entire concept behind our beloved Catholic school has been that the parents volunteer their time in order to save employment costs and keep tuition reasonable. The thing is, when the majority of the families enrolled have two employed parents, it leaves little time for volunteering. The result is increased salary costs to fill positions that would normally be filled by parent volunteers. And how does the school compensate? They have no choice but to raise tuition. If those families were choosing jobs to gain stability, I certainly wouldn't mind having to contribute more financially, but when the majority are driving luxury vehicles and living in homes that are worth four times as much as ours, I sort of want to scream. Because families like mine are helping to pay for their material goods by volunteering countless hours around the school, paying inflated tuition prices, all the while driving a car with nearly 300,000 miles. (Maybe that's just my family)

None of this bothered me when there was an option for families like mine, but now our option has been removed, and today, in this moment, I feel like we've been pushed out of our school by a huge number of two-income families. And it makes me mad, and sad. But more importantly, it makes me feel very humbled and thankful to have had the ability and priority to raise our own children full time.

Still Fumbling Blindly and Prayerfully through Tween Parenting

Big Sister came home with a small, black, velvet box today. From a boy I've never heard about (and I hear about the boys, let me tell ya). Inside was a set of earrings and a matching brooch. It looked like it could've come from one of the Wal-Mart displays. The cubic zirconia ones, not the under-lock-and-key kind.

My first reaction is to share in her excitement. I listened to her tell the story of how this boy presented her with the box on the playground at recess. I listened to her tell me that her teachers all said it was pretty. I acknowledged how exciting is must've been to receive a gift like this. And then I ask her if she thinks she should accept it. And that's when I turn from fun mom to rain-on-my-parade mom.

In my mind, I'm thinking, "what if the kid took this from his mother's jewelry box..."

"How could these teachers act like this is amazing? Oh yeah, they aren't here to teach my faith. That was our last school. Bummer..."

"How hard is it going to be on this kid to have his gift returned..."

"How difficult will it be for Big Sister to return it..."

"What kind of parent lets a 9-year-old give real jewelry? They can't know about this..."

"What happened to wanting to Big Sister wanting to watch her friends make dumb decisions about boys..."

"Oh, CRAP!"

And so we talk about how jewelry is a bit too grown up for 4th grade. And how if we're in a hurry to experience the excitement of stuff meant for us when we're older, then when we're older, we might find other things to be excited by that aren't so good. And she tells me that she just wants to go with the flow. And I tell her that we can rarely do that and still follow what God wants us to do. And she seems to get that. But she still doesn't like the thought of giving the jewelry back.

You see, I'm the mom who wouldn't allow my daughter to attend the 4th and 5th grade dance, where the boys were asking the girls to be their dates. Because, seriously, they can't just throw a party- why do they have to make it cool to act old?

Am I being too harsh? Setting myself up for a daughter who doesn't confide in me? Perhaps. But I'm not about to be one of those moms who acts like her daughter can do no wrong. One of those moms who acts like her daughter knows more at ten than herself at 30-something (or 20-something in my case). I'm going to be the kind of mom who is clear about her beliefs and opinions. I'm going to parent so that Big Sister can look back when she's in her teens and 20's and know what her Mamma would say. I'm going to be consistent to my beliefs, because there is, in my opinion, no place more important (and sometimes painful) to stand up for what I believe than in parenting.

Having a Baby Change Everything

I remember a time when I left a restaurant arm in arm with my husband. Maybe he'd have his arm around my shoulders, or he'd be guiding me with his hand against the small of my back. I'd be looking up at him, smiling or laughing at one of his goofy comments. He'd open my car door and tuck me safely inside; I'd wait for him to take his seat beside me. It was just the two of us.

And then there's tonight. When we left Texas Roadhouse, me ten feet in front of him trying to keep Little Mister from running off toward the car, him with an armful of Little Miss and the birthday presents from the evening. I opened the passenger side sliding door and helped Little Mister into his seat. Daddy opened the opposite door and buckled Little Miss.

Life is so very different now than it was 4 years ago. Blissfully happy, but almost unrecognizably different. We just fit together, my husband and I, we worked. Now we're like a well-oiled machine. We have to be, but the mechanic evenings that we have sometimes... No, there's no real room for spontaneity. Not like there used to be. The kids have us running in seventeen directions, leaving little time for simply smiling up into his face.

But I suppose I'll have that back soon enough. Before long, we'll be missing the craziness that is our life right now. Before long, we'll walk arm in arm from restaurants behind a group of kids too old to want to run off into the street. I'll let him open the car door for me because we won't have to help the little one into their seats. And we'll miss the days when we had to put so much effort into keeping control of our life.

Weekend Writing Prompt Experiment

To combat an extended writer's block, I've decided to use this site for a prompt once in a while; perhaps it will be a weekly occurrence. Random.org will generate a number for me, and I'll chose the prompt that occupied that slot on the website list.

Today's #: sixty. Write about the biggest lie you've ever told.

I probably would have never told my mother I wasn't a virgin had I not gotten pregnant. For that matter, no one would have known. It's not that I didn't have friends. I had lots of them, many close enough that we assumed we knew everything about each other. Loosing my virginity was a horrific experience for me, and living as a secret non-virgin was agony. I knew without a doubt that I was hell bound, that I had screwed up more severely than I ever would again, that I hated myself for letting my life play out the way it had. I didn't trust anyone with my secret for fear of it leaking. I didn't even venture to confession with my burden, not because I was too ashamed, but because I was honestly that scared of being found out. I'm not sure what I thought would happen if someone were to discover me. I think I feared embarrassment and the opinions that other people would hold of me. I didn't want my opinion of myself to be shared by anyone else.

My sweet baby girl saved me in more ways than she'll ever understand. Were it not for her, I'm sure I'd still be carrying around my secret. Instead, that weight was lifted by her presence. The stress was replaced by the tumult of teenage motherhood, of a disaster marriage, of judgement from others of a different kind. Somehow none of that weight has ever been as heavy a load as the months that I spent hidden from everyone who loved me. Suddenly I had someone to stand up for, and in standing up for her, in being a better person for her, I found myself capable of standing up for myself too. It's funny how becoming a parent changes a person, changes relationships. Suddenly the standards I held for myself were raised because, after all, there was someone watching me now. Someone learning how to live her life by the way I lived mine.

Reflection

Do you ever wonder where you'd be in your life were it not for [fill in the blank]? I am fully aware that the very line of thought negates the "bloom where you're planted"/"Seize the Day" mentality that I typically try to keep. Seriously, though, I cannot be the only satisfied girl on the planet who reminisces about where she was ten years ago and looks forward to where she'll be ten years later.

The thing I've noticed lately is that when I think about what was and is to come, I never find myself wondering what life would be like without my husband. I think about what we'd be like if we'd successfully put off having kids for a few years, I think about what we'd be like if we'd never had any at all, I think about what we might be like with a few more and what life will be like when we finally get to experience being married without kids in the house. Sometimes I wonder what we'd be doing had we managed our finances properly as young single adults or what we'll do in five years when we've recuperated. I wonder what my appearance would be like had I not had more children, what it will be like when I'm able to exercise without children underfoot. I used to reminisce about myself, but now, instead of "What would my life have been like if...?" I wonder what OUR life would have been like if... or what it will be like when...

I used to think that five years of marriage would bring a routine, a constant, a general feeling of having the hang of it. But as we're living year number five, I'm realizing how much we're learning... about ourselves, about each other, about marriage. And the more I learn, the more I realize how little we know. I am SO excited to find out what marriage is like 10, 25, 50 years in. Because, so far, I still feel like I'm playing house a lot of the time. I feel excited about building a future with a wonderful man, and I'm having a blast living as his wife.

I can't imagine where I'd be had I not discovered what marriage should really be like... had I remained trapped by the high school girl naivety about finding self worth in men. I have to admit, when it comes to raising my daughters to be strong, traditional, Godly, and feminine, I'm groping around in the dark a lot of the time. Some days I find myself praying before each sentence I speak to Big Sister. Though we come with our share of faults and weaknesses, it's comforting to know that God has provided a healthy marriage for my daughters to witness, one that sets an example of how preciously she deserves to be treated should she be called to the vocation of marriage. And I thank God every day that Little Mister is watching his Daddy be a dedicated, loving, strong father and husband.

Thanks for stopping by,

Superficiality... That's a Word, Right?

Although I have very firm opinions on issues that spill into the political spectrum, I by no means consider myself to be politically minded in my own life. Although Little Mister's surprise arrival cut my professional career short, I can clearly remember watching the other high school teachers around me during my two years as an educator. I watched the ones who were fast tracking their way to administration, the ones who took great care to keep the principal and superintendent close, and the ones who constantly stirred trouble.

Me? I was there for the kids. That's it. I was friendly to my coworkers, respectful of my superiors, and mildly involved in faculty activities (secret santa, etc.), but for the most part, I arrived at school, spent my mornings tweaking my lesson plans and preparing handouts, my passing periods helping students who didn't quite understand the day's assignment, my planning period grading, and then left for home promptly after school, taking any excess work along with me. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but that's me. I'm not a people pleaser by nature, and while I will bend over backward for my family or friends, I've never been one to appease someone for the purpose of advancing myself. I think it's ridiculous that that sort of artificial networking is needed to get ahead in life. Whatever happened to being valued for hard work, dedication, talent, and smarts? I have a hard time digesting the games people play to get ahead in life. While trying not to anger someone with power makes sense, purposely befriending someone for that sole purpose just seems superficial and dishonest.

I hope that I can teach my children the value of self worth, generosity, diligent effort, and being passionate about whatever it is they choose to do with their lives. I pray that God calls them to work free from politics and rich in traditional Christian values, work that will challenge them to grow as individuals in Christ and allow them to bring others closer to God in the process.

Thanks for stopping by,

What SAHM Means to this SAHM

I started to comment on one of my newest additions to my blog roll this evening. The post concluded with this question: "What do you do to prevent Mommy burnout?"

I started to list just one of my attempts to stay sane in the SAHM world, but the list just kept growing until I realized that there is really no excuse for finding myself on the brink of insanity save pure selfishness. Here's what I wrote...

When I can, I do my essential housework either in the morning while my little ones are eating breakfast, during nap time or just after bedtime. I do very little during the days, and what I have to do, I have the kids help with- it keeps them from escaping out the front door or flushing toys down the toilet while I'm occupied! I also make it a point to have a mommies' night out once in a while- it's usually after our kids are in bed, and we just meet for coffee or dessert. We usually end up staying out until 11 or 12, but I'm energized for a good two weeks afterward! Play Dates are my favorite, no guilt way of getting some adult interaction- nothing beats letting your kid get some socialization while you chat/vent to the mommies!

And most importantly, knowing that I'm doing the best thing I can for my kids and playing the role that God called me to play makes a world of difference. There are days (sometimes weeks) when I start to loose sight of that call, and I have to remind myself that I'm fulfilling my responsibility to my KIDS and my GOD.

Stay-at-home-mommying isn't always fun. Sometimes it's flat out miserable... for weeks on end. While it's rewarding, I don't always enjoy it, and it doesn't always make me happy. I don't do it for me. Sometimes I find myself itching for the days when I'll be able to have my hair done, clean up the house without a munchkin following behind me to mess again, sit in a silent car, and perhaps even start a career. For me, being a SAHM is an obligation, a job just like any other out there. It has it's ups and downs. Some days I feel under-appreciated. Others I love it and look forward to spending another 16 years in the field as I've committed to do. I chose this job because it was the best thing for my kids, because no one can make them feel loved like their parents, because I felt it vitally important that I be there to answer the big life questions that pop up along the way.

My nine-year-old asked me tonight if I knew what God's call for me was. I told her, "I sure do. He dropped all three of you right on my lap!"

So Close

Big Sister: "Are we going to the mall?"

Little Mister: "Ooh! The cookie mall*! Can we go there?"

Big Sister: "Yeah! We're going to the mall.... right Mommy?"

Mommy: "You two have GOT to stop asking for things. That's all I've heard today! The answers going to be 'NO' if either of you ask again."

Little Mister: "Ok, Mommy. We won't ask you anymore. NOW can we go to the cookie mall?"

*Cookie Mall. Named for its reward of Mrs. Fields cookie tubs for well behaved little shoppers. Yes, I'm one of THOSE moms. I blame it on never getting treated to mall treats growing up. Come to think of it, my kids have tons of character plastic plates for the same reason... because I always wanted one. Hm... am I the only one who does that?

Proactive Parenting

Oh, boy. Today was just one of those days! Little Mister was an angel while we took Great-Grandma shopping, but this afternoon, it was as if he morphed into Dennis the Menace. Really. I felt just like Mr. Wilson, only my Dennis came equipped with screams, hateful yelling, and tears. First a refusal to buckle into his car seat, then a horrible display at martial arts, and just before bed an attempt to swing from the one set of curtains I've hung in my house. I was in rare form today as a result. I'm really out of ideas with this one. We've tried spanking, time out, consequences that fit the misbehavior (draw on sister's walls = no longer allowed in sister's room), the big scary mommy voice, manual labor, talking about why the action is wrong... I've pretty much decided that I'm just not doing enough proactive parenting. I think this one just needs way more hands-on attention than Big Sister did. I'm going to do my best to focus on playing with him more, involving him in my household duties, and generally keeping him busy. After all, idle hands....

Buyer's Remorse??

I walked my daughter to her 4th grade classroom this morning. I'm so used to seeing first day of school pictures in dress code attire. It seemed so odd to me to polish light pink nails yesterday evening, to iron a bright orange skirt last night, to watch my daughter strap her brown sandals this morning.

At open house on Tuesday evening, I was a little saddened by the new surroundings. It should have helped that her classroom is the very same one in which I experienced my favorite teacher fifteen years ago. It should have helped that her teacher seems really nice, easy to get along with, and most importantly organized. It should have helped to read that spelling tests would be given every Friday instead of whenever it pleased the teacher. All those things helped me later, but at the time, I just saw a missing crucifix, missing prayers lining the hallways, missing statues of the Virgin Mother. I missed God being the center of this experience that will mold my daughter. I'm just not terribly confident in this change of ours. Thank the Lord that we were blessed with 6 years in our dear Catholic school. I just pray that she isn't afraid to wear her faith on her sleeve, to stand up for her beliefs and the truths that she had come to know and trust. I pray that she is equipped to handle the new experiences, backgrounds, and peers that she will meet this year.

It really is going to be a great year. The classroom is wonderful, and I've been assured by my trusted family friend who teaches in this 4th grade that Big Sister's teacher is a wonderful, Godly woman.