Monthly Meal Planning - FREEBIE ALERT!

Photo by Molly Townsend, Queen of Photography

I write a lot about super serious things here - reflective, heart things. And I like that because I want you to know that you're not the only one that deals with the hard stuff while you smile and love and give. However, I also want you to know that there are tools and ways to make the practical side of life easier! I want you to know that I act like an idiot with my kids. That when I'm away from them for a few hours and then return, I'm so glad to see their little faces. I want you to know that while I yearn for all sorts of things that aren't yet mine, that may never be mine, I also feel enormously grateful for all the things I do have. Sometimes I am so full up with joy and gratitude that I feel like I might bust. I want you to know that while I wrestle with defeat and the feeling of being utterly overwhelmed, I have also collected a few tricks that help our family do "us."

That's the truth.

A few months ago, I posted on Instagram (my favorite social media platform, btw) about monthly meal planning and grocery shopping and a lot of you were super curious about how that works.

Here's the deal - I'm a 60% right-brainer and a 40% left brainer. While that can be wildly helpful in the skill set department, it can also make me straight crazy in the balance department. What I mean is, if I was primarily right-brained, it would be far easier for me to focus on crafts and play time and big, fun hooplah with my family - and embrace a little more chaos. If I was primarily left-brained, it would be far easier for me to focus on details and schedules and discipline - and embrace a little more structure. I would naturally lean a good bit in one direction or the other...I think. And as long as they are not competing against one another, I do just fine. But since I am both, and motherhood absolutely does require full function of the right and left brain, it behooves me to take some detail, decision-making out of my everyday. The details drain me while I'm trying to be present with my people - and it matters very much to me that I be present with my people. Also, I actually love to cook - it's grounding and rhythmic nature is nourishment for my creative, introverted soul. When all the people need me and I really just need to get something on the ever-lovin' table, things start to unravel.

Good planning makes space for more settled meal times, and some of my most treasured childhood memories revolve around meal times - because we all sat around a set table - with glass plates and real silverware, and ate a meal at least 4 nights/week. This is a thing that is important for me to accomplish in my own home. Monthly meal planning is one way I am able to throw myself a bone and, every once in a while, enjoy cooking a meal! Want to hear how it works AND get your own FREE, color-coded menu calendar?

FAN-tastic.

1. Breakfast & Lunch - I hate the process of deciding what's to eat for breakfast and lunch. I really don't mind preparing it, but I'm not a fan of choosing items and having my kids decide they don't want what I chose. This way, they know what's coming. If they choose not to eat, too bad, so sad. They can eat better at the next meal. So, I plan a week's worth and then repeat them every week. 
2. Supper - I plan my suppers (or dinners) by month. I cook 4 times/week. I repeat that same menu every month for that season. The one pictured here is for summer. So, we eat a different meal every night for 4 weeks. Then, I rinse, wash, and repeat until the next season rolls around.
3. Snacks - I actually used to plan all of our snacks, too, but I found that this was an area that we just needed wiggle room on. So, I usually have a salty cracker - like goldfish or peanut butter crackers, a sweet - like graham crackers or animal crackers, and some fruits and veggies. This keeps everyone content while also keeping the grocery bill down.
4. Monthly - I actually don't shop by month very often simply because plans change, meals get skipped, and I end up with way more pasta in my pantry than I'll actually need for quite a while. You absolutely could take this a step further and store a grocery list with the menu for what you'd need each week. I just like to make mine all at once and add in the basics I'll need for the week. I shop every Monday (ideally), and since I always have at least one child with me, it is more valuable to me to shop the same grocery store where I know every aisle and can get in and out as quickly as possible than it is to "deal" shop.
5. Make Ahead - I try to prepare as much ahead as possible. Some of these meals are super easy to make a big batch of and freeze half, etc. This makes my life so very much easier!

And that's it! This isn't rocket science and for some of you, it'll sound like the worst idea in the world. Totally fine! Go on out withca bad self and come up with your own way of making space to enjoy the things and people you love.

If, however, you feel excited about this option...download either my summer menu or a blank one for you to fill out on your own! Another option is to buy a super cheap calendar and fill it out with your own color coding system. You do you, sister. You do you.

CLICK TO DOWNLOAD MY SUMMER MENU

CLICK TO DOWNLOAD BLANK MENU

The Down and Dirty Truth about Homeschooling

So, we're homeschooling. I've mentioned that I think, but I don't think I've told you about how we arrived at that decision, about how it's impacted our life, and about how it hasn't.

Before we even knew we were leaving Arvada, circumstances began to align in such a way that we felt led to homeschool. Adelle was in a public school in Arvada, and our experience there was good. Truly good. We did not choose to homeschool because we thought the public school system was failing us. But the more I studied the classical education model, the more sense it made to me - the more it sounded like a thing that would produce thriving, free-thinking, life-long learners - capable of having and defending their own thoughts and opinions in a thoughtful, respectful way. Homeschooling would also allow us to introduce our kids to certain ideas on our own timetable - all things sex, evolution, etc. We are not afraid of our children learning about those things, but we would like to decide when it's best to explain those ideas to them.

So, we began to pray about the idea, and after a series of events tripped over each other and fell at our feet, our answer seemed very clear. We would take Adelle out of a school she loved, and I would teach her at home.

Now, let me say that this was not the easy answer for us. Adelle and I, um, find ourselves at impasse at least once a day. We love each other a lot - and also we drive each other crazy. So, the thought of us being together all the day every day again made me nervous, real nervous. Throw in a preschooler and a toddler - and lawsy, I was terrified.

Fast forward to our move, to the fact that we didn't know what school district we would find ourselves in for the short term or the long term - and not enrolling Adelle in a school that she would just have to leave when we got settled, well that seemed like some pretty spectacular forethought on God's part.

Now, there are a few things that, 6 weeks in, homeschooling at my parents' house while we try to find a home to live in, etc, etc, etc - that I thought might be helpful for anyone that has ever considered keeping your kids at home for a year:

1. It's not that hard. I want to be careful here not to give unrealistic expectations. I am a semi-organized person who has been working with children in some capacity for most of my life. Even so, I'm not a trained teacher, and it's legitimately not that hard. The planning and teaching part, at least. So, don't feel like - oh gosh, how will I ever teach my kids? I'm not a teacher! You don't have to be. Seriously.
2. It's crazy, super hard. For this first year, at least, I have lost my ability to do much beyond be present with my kids all week. I feel like that might adjust a bit once we are in a space of our own, but for the time being - during the week - I am basically interacting with one of my kids at all times, which can be exhausting for all parties involved. The whining and the shouting and the neediness - I'm only one person!
3. You get to modify the plan. We are not a lifelong homeschooling family. We are a year by year, child by child family. And as we have moved into this year, we are finding that my middle one, Marilee, who hasn't spent much time in an organized classroom, is excelling in everything I'm teaching her - to the point that I can't quite keep up with her - and the best thing we can do for her is put her in a preschool experience - to see what might be best for her next year. So, Adelle and Jude will be home with me in the mornings while Marilee is in preschool. And next year, Adelle might just go back into public school. Or maybe private - but prolly not because of the dollars.
4. Life is school. We've had to adjust our thinking. We are still trying to adjust our thinking. It's school when we read a story or count to 100 or measure out flour. It's school when we talk about what day of the week it is - what day it was yesterday and what day it will be tomorrow. It's school when we look at prices of items in the grocery store and determine whether or not we have enough left in the weekly budget for the ice cream or not. It's school when we drill our math facts while racing across the swimming pool. It's school when we learn manners during a tea party. Life is one grand learning experience - it would do us all good to remember that once in a while.
5. Yesterday, I wanted to quit. Again, let me reiterate that our current experience is not the norm. We are in schooling in transition and will be doing so for a good month more. And yesterday, Adelle felt defeated, Marilee felt overlooked, Jude felt - loud, and I felt like the worst mama ever. Tired and all wrong - but then I remembered why we chose this for the year. Because of the slow - because we want our kids to grow up good and slow. And so if for a year, they are bored out of their minds (which I am learning how to combat), that's okay - because life is slower than it would be if she was in school. And it wouldn't be all bad if she was in school - honestly - but God said to go this route this year - and so we are sticking with it - trusting His sovereignty. 
6. I am learning as much as they are. While I am learning/re-learning all sorts of fantastic facts and concepts, I am also learning a great deal about myself - about my weaknesses, and my strengths. About trying too hard and not hard enough. About harsh tones and gracious touches. About each of my kids - how they learn - just how different they all are. That I need Jesus again and again and again all day long if I'm going to have a fighting chance at doing this well. About how much it matters that they see me needing Jesus.

I'll try to stop in every six weeks to give you an update - for anyone who is curious - about our homeschooling journey. I don't feel like I have a lot of concrete advice to give you right now simply because we are just beginning to make some good, concrete decisions. Ask anything you want - and I'll tell you what I have and haven't learned so far!

On Falling Back in Love with Mothering: A Followup

Back in February, I wrote a post called, On Falling Back in Love with Mothering, over at Mothers of Daughters. In it, I addressed the fact that somewhere along the way, mothering had become more of a chore than a gift - that I had allowed it to become so, and that I didn't feel okay about that. So, I offered some tips to myself and to you, my reader friends, on making the choice to see the wonder in mothering. I then began to use the hashtag #fallingbackinlovewithmothering on my social media pages in an effort to point to and document the gift of mothering.

I want to be sure that you understand where I'm coming from - that I am accurately representing the thought behind the post and the hashtag:

1. I believe in what I wrote. I believe that it needs to be said out loud because some mama - probably a lot of mamas - are struggling with choosing joy in mothering, and it is slipping away without them even realizing it. If we cannot express our struggles out loud, regardless of how different or even how much better they are in comparison to others struggles, then how can we grow? How can we experience community? How can we tend to each others' needs? Now, to be fair, expressing struggles is different than complaining, and I am the number one offender in the latter category. We should allow others struggles to breed in us a sense of gratitude for what we have and compassion for what they do not. We should ask God regularly to show us how we can be better listeners, kinder companions, and more honest lovers of souls. We should do those things, but we cannot fall prey to the belief that if our problems aren't as bad as our neighbors, then God doesn't want to hear about them, and neither does anyone else. There is a fine line - and the only way to walk on the godly side of it is to submit ourselves to the Holy Spirit all the day every day. That being said, if anything I wrote came across as inconsiderate or hurtful, I apologize sincerely. My heart is for hurting mamas and women - all of you - please know that if I was hurtful, it was by accident.
2. I want to be clear that this issue of not enjoying mothering is about us, about our own hearts - those of us who struggle with this particular battle, and it's not okay. It's a form of ingratitude and discontent. We have to do something about it, and there's not much we can do apart from Jesus. I have spent the better part of the last few months making choices, weeding out extras, and petitioning God to change my heart. And do you know what? It's working - He is working in me. I am experiencing so much more gratitude in mothering - in spite of, because of all the chaos that goes along with it. I am delighting in my children again. God is restoring that for me, and I am amazed at His goodness.

I write it in part to clarify myself and in part to tell you that beginning June 1, I'll be writing a series in line with this topic. I'll be telling you all about how and what God is teaching me about falling back in love with mothering. I would love to hear your thoughts as I write, to know what you struggle with and how you are working to let God make you more whole in every part of your life!

Love y'all like crazy!

Bread and Wine? More like bread and whine!

Bread & Wine by Shauna Niequist. I cannot put it down. Let me explain something to you - I am a mother of three small children. Time for sitting and reading - focused fully on words on a page - it is not possible for very many minutes in a row on very many days of the week. This is my reality, and I accept it.

Except when I pick up a book that swallows me whole the way that this one has done. A book that has me breathless and giddy, dreamy and determined, swoony over the way these stories flirt with me, all shameless and knowing. I read it while I walked around the house doing the things that needed to be done. I read it instead of sewing the curtains or cleaning the increasingly disgusting kitchen floor. I read. I reflected. I amen-ed. I repeated.

This lenten season, the deepest desire of my heart has been to stop and consider Jesus. Church planting is - woah. And we find ourselves swept up in a whirlwind of joy and pain and amazement and aggravation. It's an adventure of extremes, no doubt, and sometimes those extremes seem to edge Jesus just far enough over that I can only really see Him in my peripheral vision. It's easy for this thing to become all about what I can or cannot do. And that's not the point at all.

So, when I sense this happening - because truly I've been dancing this dance all my life - I know that it's time to pull back, to make space for reflection. I know that it's time to read books, and pray quietly, and pause to watch the snowflakes fall, listen to them tapping my jacket, soak in every inch of silence they carry with them, and ignore the unfinished curtains, the unfinished everything.

This book - it's part of God's gentle and sweet pursuit of my bring-it-on heart. Tonight, after steady reading all day long, I got all inspired and fancy feeling for dinner. Salmon was on the menu but it was supposed to be grilled and today wasn't EXACTLY the day for grilling - and I'm new to the world of salmon so I dared not try any other method. So, I decided to be creative with ingredients I'm far more comfortable with. I made my own Italian diced tomatoes. I "threw a salad together" like cooking without recipes doesn't freak me right out - even salads without recipes. (How do you know you're doing it RIGHT?!) I made a tomato cream sauce and decided I'd get crazy and throw in a couple of baked shredded chicken breasts. I pretended that the frozen garlic bread was fresh and crispy, straight from the bakery. And then for dessert - I whipped out a box of angel food cake mix and - wait for it - made a berry reduction, no bigs. I set the table. I made sweet tea. I put everything in pretty bowls, just like my Mama did almost every night of my childhood.

Let me say that we do sit down at our table every night to eat dinner as a family. But sometimes (like half and half) it's haphazardly with reheated leftovers or whatever will be less clean up after it's all over. I try to use place mats and do the whole shebang, but often all I can see is more dishes and more laundry piling up as a result. But tonight - oh we were going to eat like civilized people and have a lovely dinner conversation while the snow fell soft outside our windows.

With a five year old. A two year old. And a screaming six month old.

What. the. heck?

Y'all, dinner for us right now looks like this:

We bounce back and forth from the kitchen like ping pong balls because all the people need all the things and no one ever remembers the napkins, the ketchup, the salt, the preferred fork. Finally we all get settled, Jude in my lap, the girls together on the bench, and Josh across from me. Someone prays - but usually not until there's been a significant discussion about whose turn it is to do so. We begin eating. Someone doesn't like at least one thing - often all the things. A parent says, "That's fine but this is all there is for dinner. You're going to be hungry." Marilee makes a bizarre kissy face at Adelle. Adelle responds with some equally silly face and a vigorous head shake, raking her hair through her meal. I promptly say something about using our manners and sitting still or I'm throwing plates away. I never, ever actually throw their food away because I cannot bear the thought of listening to them whine about their hunger for the rest of the night. Excellent parenting, obviously. They sit still for, oh, ten seconds and we start the whole fiasco over again, usually involving Marilee wandering from the table looking for a more entertaining activity than sitting still while she chews. All the while Jude is fussing and wallowing all over my lap because he's ready for his bath, bottle, bed routine, and I am trying to eat my own meal while also making sure Marilee doesn't mutilate hers. Throw in a spill of some sort and Josh's "I'm over it" face for good measure, and you've pretty much got our meal time every. blooming. night.

Tonight was exactly the same except I was proud of my cooking on the fly self right up until we sat down at the table.

So, although her words are lovely and moving - I cannot for the life of me figure out what she is speaking of - babies on hips and cooking with friends. Dinner as a restful time - a gathering of people to visit and look each other in the eye and listen with attentive hearts. I know nothing of these things. Nothing.

Does your dinner time look like mine or Shauna's? And if you say Shauna's and you have tiny children, I'm going to need your secret or else we cannot be friends.

But seriously, is there a way to find joy in your family dinner time when you have little bitties? I'm really asking.

Disclaimer: I know that she is writing about moments - a collection of experiences - not her everyday, cold spaghetti for dinner life. I get that, but my romantic self imagines lovely scenes of women in skinny jeans, some cardigans, maybe a few graphic tees, and some cute flats, with well behaved children on their hips and at their feet while they prepare lovely feasts that everyone enjoys. At least I know I'm entirely misguided. 

When I Grow Up I Want to Be an Unfrantic Woman

I stood in the shower letting the hot water massage the back of my neck. "Why am I so tired? Like pregnant tired? But I am NOT pregnant [just so we are all VERY clear]."

I fell asleep last week during not one, but two, of my all time favorite movies. I simply could not summon the energy to hold my eye lids in the open position past the halfway point of either movie. It had nothing to do with desire or interest. I mean, who doesn't want to watch The Holiday start to finish if only to see Jude Law make crying look that adorable?

And it occurred to me. I am tired because in a sixth month time period I will have had a baby, started a Kindergartener in three different schools, attempted to homeschool both my girls, moved twice - once being cross country, helped start a church, and worked to reach some personal goals of my own [this one affects you, and I can't wait to tell you about it].

I am overextended. I have placed too many expectations on myself. And I can hear it flying out of my mouth in clipped tones to my family, whiny sighs to my friends, and snores during the always compelling Marley & Me. I'm starting to annoy myself. Seriously.

In the middle of it all came Lysa Tyrkeurst's The Best Yes, that on so many levels challenged me and made me think deeper about why I overextend and mostly what it means to live a fuller, less frantic life.

One of the most impactful stories I read was tucked right in the middle - a story about a woman whose name is not mentioned but I can only presume is Jenna Bush. Lysa takes barely more than a page to explain their interaction and the impact it had on her family - but it mattered to me. The Most Unfrantic Woman I've Ever Met is what the section was called, and I took note. I have thought about it over and again. I have talked about it in far too much detail with my always understanding Mama. It got in my head in a really good way.

Not only do I want my children to remember me as a fully engaged, unfrantic, and entirely fulfilled in the life I am living, that's also the impression I want to leave with other people. I want to live the beauty of stepping out of the spotlight and watching other people shine. When others are with me, I want them to know that they matter more than any list of engagements and tasks I might have waiting for me in my Erin Condren planner. I want to be so comfortable in who God has created me to be and in the season he has placed me right this second, that I don't need to be amazing. I only need to be His. I want to be brave enough to say, "No," and wise enough to say, "Yes."

I am beginning to understand that good parenting is about so much more than good discipline styles and healthy eating. It is even about more than family devotionals and the best schools. And good living is about more than serving every chance I get or running hard after every dream that pops into my head.

It's about living wholly, freely, entirely as the woman I am with the Jesus who changes me.

This doesn't change my list of obligations - we are planting a church in a place we are just getting to know, and we have three itty bitties. Every minute of every day is occupied. But don't be fooled - Josh and I work to give each other time - built in down time where we can let our souls rest. At thirty-one, we have begun to believe in the grand value of this simple act. This helps those clipped tones tremendously. Know what else helps? Running to Jesus. Over and over again every day. All day. In every moment. When the two year old digs her heels in, when I turn around and the sisters have pulled out every.single.book we own to make a trail through the entire still-unpacked house, when the baby throws up in my hair again, when intentionally getting to know my neighbors makes me nervous - to run fast and hard to Jesus and say, "I don't know how. I can't. I need you to," and then just keep moving, trusting that He's all over me like white on rice, working and changing and affecting my heart because I asked Him to - because that's who He is.

Maybe, I'll wake up one day, look around and like Jacob say, "God's been here doing His thing, and I didn't even realize it!" What I hope, though, is that like Moses I'll see it in each of those moments, take off my sandals [or snow boots], bow low, and chill the stink out.

So, here's to another Monday. Let's all live a little less frantic today!

Wrapping Up 2014

2014 is coming to a close. Sherwin Williams asked me if I would take a survey for them regarding my recent purchase there. I agreed because they were our heroes as we painted and repainted our new to us dining room chairs. I like to tell people they rock when they do. I picked most of the paint colors for our new house from their selection - and then we had to buy it from Home Depot because we simply could not afford SW. Champagne taste on a beer budget - story of my life.

I digress.

So I'm taking this survey and I have to select my age bracket. I'm not a big age person - it doesn't ever stress me out or make me feel panicky. I honestly don't think about it - like ever - like sometimes I have to take a moment to remember how old I am. Well, according to Sherwin Williams, I am now lumped in with the forty year olds. I'm sorry, what? Something about this totally weirded me out. I can't say why. I have friends who are forty and I don't think of them as old or worn out or that much different than me at all, but it sent me into sort of a sappy, reflective tailspin. 

That plus the insane number of self assessments and "be who you are" books I have read in the past few years, has me considering that only now, only after tipping over the top of the thirty year hill, do I really feel like I know who I am - and only now have I really begun to grasp that I will not ever fully know myself because I will always live in change and forward motion. At least I hope that I do, because if I'm not moving and evolving, what, exactly, AM I doing?

I snuggled up between my two girls in the bed that I share with their Daddy. The fire raged in our fireplace while the cold tried to push toward us from the windows. Their heads rested heavy on each of my shoulders as their little breaths slowed into steady rhythms. Josh left us at nearly 9 pm to go paint our new house, and so no one waited for me downstairs. Jude slept soundly already. No one else needed me, so I just laid quiet their between them, reflecting, thanking, begging. 

Adelle and her strong will, her tender heart, her love for people, her brilliant mind, her resiliant spirit, her love for the Jesus that she only understands in part but embraces entirely. Everyone who interacts with her likes her, and she likes them, too. She is brave - more than I know how to be most of the time. My own struggle to constantly be available to give her what she thinks she needs. My own struggle to mother my wonderful, awe-inspiring, demanding five-year old. Oh God, please help me love this Sugar Bear of mine well. 

Marilee and her strong heart. Sometimes I just listen to it beat in her chest, feel it pulse beneath her ribs - steady, strong, and healed. My little Snuggle Nugget, who rolls her own way, paves her own path, and loves as hard as any of us - in her own way. She's a trail blazer, this one. Strong and determined and hilarious. Charming, sweet, and tough as nails. My own struggle to give her enough of me. She's sandwiched between a big sister who requires a lot of my attention and a baby - who inherently requires a lot of attention. Oh God, please help me mother her in a way that makes her sure she is loved and seen entirely - that she is special, vital to our family, vital to your kingdom. 

Jude and his easy like Sunday morning demeanor. Oh, the way he smiles with his whole little fat face. The way he leans into me when I kiss his cheeks. The way he asks so little of me when he needs so much. He has rounded out our family in the nicest of ways, and he is a gift - a representation of God's sweetness in my life. I remember standing on the ramp at First Baptist Orlando, holding my about-to-pop belly full of Jude, and watching Josh love people so well down below on the floor level. I watched and I begged God to give Jude his Daddy's heart and disposition. For now, it seems that He has done just that. How I hope that I never forget to be grateful for Jude - no matter what curve balls he throws at me down the road.

My babies - they truly are my treasures. I hope that I remember to treasure them better in 2015.

Being who God Created You to Be: Motherhood

So, I'm on this quest to discover how to still be who I am - like deep down in my soul and being - and also wipe tiny hineys all day long...and not feel annoyed by it. Mostly, this feels impossible. The wiping of tiny hineys? Not my thing. Pinching them, smacking them, tickling them? Totally fine with that.

As I journey through this, I am realizing that all of these gifts, talents, and abilities - all this purpose - well, sometimes I romanticize the whole lot of them. I make them into these spectacular, wonderful, go out and change the world things. It's not that they aren't. Or can't be. Or won't be. It's just that I want some way to qualify what God has tasked me with. I want to know - am I doing it well? What He is gently nudging me towards is the fact that I have the freedom to be the person AND the mama I am....at the same time.

Here's the truth:

• I do not read a hundred articles about to vaccinate or not to vaccinate. I have read a few, but more importantly, I prayed about and found myself a great pediatrician whom I trust. I do what he recommends that I do. Period.


• I am considering using essential oils because it seems like they work, not because I'm afraid of traditional medicine.


• Sometimes I do cute crafts with my kids - for twenty minutes - because I cannot roll that stupid ball again.


•       I think the whole "Great moms have dirty houses" deal is stupid. I am a woman of order. Josh is a Hunk of EXTREME order. Sure, there are things we let go of because our kids are tiny, human wrecking balls - but I don't have to have a dirty house to be a good mom, thankyouverymuch. On the flip side, if you're down with a dirty house - you can be a good mama, too. See how that works?


• I take my kids outside to play. I push them on the swings. I laugh with them. I do. But that is not my whole life every single day. And I am learning not to feel guilty about it. I am learning that I can still be their good mama because God put us together on purpose.


• I've read two parenting books. I really liked them, and they were helpful, but I do not attend numerous Bible Studies about parenting and/or mothering. I fully support you if you do, but all that information overwhelms me and tempts me to force my kids into some sort of predetermined role. And it makes me feel like my only job in life is to mold these tiny humans...and like I will forever and always suck at it. Granted, this is the most demanding role of my life right now - but isn't it possible that plowing deeper into my relationship with Jesus will be enough to help me do that effectively?


• I bake with my kids - because I love to bake and I'm pretty good at it. I let them into my world as much as I focus on entering theirs. We are a family. We pick up the toys in the living room before Daddy gets home [sometimes] because it makes him happy. I play Candy Land with Adelle because it makes her happy. I sing The Wheels on the Bus eight HUNDRED times a day with Marilee because it makes her happy. Isn't it more important that I make room for all my family to be who they are - including myself - than to feed them all perfectly prepared organic food? Unless doing so happens to be my jam?


• At the same time, there is much room for improvement. For less of me and more of Jesus in my mothering. MUCH room. And I have to keep a close eye on my motives behind a Facebook feed full of my everyday life - which happens to be the littles at this point in time. Am I using them to make myself feel important? Like I matter? Like my life is exactly what it should be? The accepting of who I am as a mother does not negate the need for change.

Does this make sense? Be the parent YOU are. That's what I'm saying. On this quest to discover who I am and how God wants to use me, it has occurred to me that I get to be that person in every facet of my life...and because God is so cool and plans for everything - that person is exactly who Adelle, Marilee, and soon Jude need around to shepherd them through these years. Phew.

This post inspired in part by:

Run Your Race

I Worry for the Mommy Bloggers

Chronicles of a Christian Millenial

A Bone when I Need One

Y'all. On this uncharacteristically dreary Florida Spring day - this happened. For 30 straight minutes my girls voluntarily played downstairs by themselves while I enjoyed salad, and French Bread, and Pottery Barn eye candy.

I wondered what it would be like to "shop" for the kids' bedding for a "summer home". Then I remembered it's rude/sinful to judge people who do and also, pastors don't generally have summer homes so it's a bridge I'll likely never have to cross. Phew. Because we all know it's easy to judge until you're the one being handed a summer home.

No one touched me or called my name. I think I heard Marilee flush the downstairs potty 83 times, but I let it go for fear that correcting her would draw attention to the fact that no one was touching me or calling my name. I checked later. She didn't flush actual items. She's just fascinated with the flushing "button" as she calls it. 

 

Also, at some point during this day, I laughed hard with the girls over the sheer joy of bubbles.

 

Jesus loves me. This I know, for he throws a girl a bone when she needs one.

 

The end.

 

Survival Tactics of a Sleep-Deprived Mommy

I think that, when you are the parent of young children, and a thing is happening in your life that requires great focus, attention, and prayer [aside from said children, that is], the easiest way for Satan to attack you is to cause the littlest biggest parts of yourself to be up for all hours of a night.

Truly - I believe this is one of his strongest tactics. And several of the nastiest sort of every days strung together all in a row so that you become so distracted with keeping your head above water that you forget about the other thing that needed focus, attention, and prayer and formulate a plan to run away ASAP. Or you feel annoyed with your man for no good reason which causes you to snap at him at the end of the day over...come to think of it, you're not really sure what.

For me personally, if I don't get a handle on all that nastiness real fast, it all snowballs into a heaping mess that looks an awful lot like me crying on the bathroom floor. I'm learning that in order to combat this particular tactic of the big, fat butt-faced liar, I have to:

1. Pray. A lot. When at all possible, build time into my day to spend time quietly visiting with Jesus, revealing my heart. And also right before company comes over with broccoli wilting on the stove while everyone is talking to me at once, calmly walk to my bedroom, close and lock the door, and get on my knees to ask Jesus for forgiveness for not doing this earlier and help showing love and seeing others - or whatever needs to be said in that moment. And then serve your guests wilted broccoli and be okay with it.

2. Memorize as much Scripture as my fried mommy brain will allow. Don't focus so much on the word-for-word, but on the idea and the heart of the message - as well as the Scripture reference, so that if I need to know the word-for-word I can look it up. Write one scripture/week on index cards and place them on my dashboard, by my kitchen sink, and on the foreheads of my children [mostly kidding about that].

3. Choose joy. When I am caught up in the fog of little sleep, catching Marilee sucking toothpaste out of the bottle...again, and answering question number 543 from the impressive mind of Adelle, choose joy. Choose to take a moment and see the way Marilee's hair floats a little when she walks, or the way Adelle considers others far more than most four year olds, or the way the "B" on our front door looks so inviting. Choose joy by taking time to see it all around me.

4. Let it go. Let it go. I am one with the wind... wait. But seriously, let it go. I was supposed to fold laundry yesterday and also mop the oh so disgusting kitchen floor. I read my book and took a nap instead because this pregnant mama needed something to aid in the maintenance of her sanity - something different than a perfectly completed to do list. Often that's the case, and I am STILL learning to do it.

That's all, really. It's nothing ground breaking. These are not newly discovered mommy survival tactics, but they are things that I am not doing well right now, and I am barely breathing. I know they work because I've employed them in the past. Maybe you needed the reminder today, too?

Wine

Welp, I'm pregnant again. I'm almost 11 weeks - due August 1st, which means I'll probably be induced on August 8th...because that's the way I seem to roll. You know - we're just going to do them all within a month of each other. Adelle will be 5 in July, Baby B will arrive, and then Marilee will turn 2 - all between July 19th and August 28th. I mean, it's going to be totally calm and smooth...

True to form, I'm also sick. Oh the awe and wonder of the first flippin' trimester. It was super horrible at my parent's house over Thanksgiving. Then it eased enough that I was able to, you know, take care of my children between the hours of 8 and 5. Nothing more. Some mornings, though, I receive full and generous doses of hormones. The following happened on such a day: I got to do the first bent over the toilet gig. It probably could've been avoided if lying very still all day long had been an option. And also if I had not eaten Crawtators with lunch. Hindsight's 20/20.

While I rid my stomach of said Crawtators, my caring, sweet, does not know how to be quiet particularly when she's stressed Adelle ran into the bathroom and asked, "Mommy, are you okay? Are you throwing up? Mommy? What's the matter?" Until, in a moment of respite, ordered her to go to her room until I finished. She obeyed but it probably took every ounce of self-control she could muster. Bless her.

I spent the rest of the day as still as possible in a reclining position on the couch while the girls watched TV and tore the house to shreds. At one point, Adelle brought me one of my old socks and asked if she could make a puppet out of it. Obviously I agreed as long as she could handle it without me having to move from my position on the couch. I'm pretty sure I read Marilee every book she could locate and felt pretty good about her systematically taking ornaments off the tree...all the breakable ones were at the top. All I could think about was a story my mom tells about my ever patient Aunt Nancy when her two kids, Rachel and Scott, were preschoolers. She'd just had surgery of some sort and my Uncle Bill had gone back to work. Rachel and Scott made a road of books from their room, all the way down the stairs, into the living room, and over her on the couch and she just kept saying, "Get another one, Scott." They were occupied and she was doing the best she possibly could do by encouraging them to - for the love of survival - just stay occupied!

Mama's - you have all been there, no?

I digress. You thought that was the end? Ooooohhh, no.

Josh had a late meeting. We had no food in the house that I felt I could safely consume without seeing it again later. I determined to throw the kids in the car about 20 minutes before he was to arrive home and make a Walgreen's run for chicken noodle soup, crackers, and Gatorade. They complied with my shoe throwing on antics pretty well and while Adelle was gathering up some final piece of clothing, I buckled Marilee in the car and threw my purse in the front seat. As I walked around to the driver's seat, I heard a click. I tried the door. Yep....locked. I looked through the window and little Miss M had my keys. Not a joke. She quickly realized that she was stuck and started to cry around the time Adelle came downstairs and started in with the questions.

Do you know what I did? I said down on the ground and cried. Like for real, I am officially at the end of my rope, cried. Adelle snapped me out of it when she ran and got a stool so she could see Marilee and tell her everything was okay in between running over to me and saying, "It's aw-wight, Mommy. I'm saw-wy youh sad."

When your 4 year old is playing caretaker, it's time to put your big girl panties on. I walked over and tried to soothe Marilee until Josh arrived home and took over. I cried when he got there. The girls cried when I left to retrieve my dinner necessities. I lost it again when I walked in and the girls were having the exact same meal they had for lunch: Peanut Butter and Jelly with chips. I was intensely aware of my inability to take care of my little family the way I usually do, and at that raging hormonal moment it felt like they would be permanently scarred by this day.

I cried for a good hour in bed while watching the sing off and sipping chicken noodle soup.

That was a low day. It's true. But all the days have been milder versions of that one. (I nearly caused Adelle to miss her Christmas ballet performance because I thought it was another day of the week all day long.) Josh has been a one man band, and I'm so grateful for his ability to take such great care of us, but we are all ready for mommy to be mommy again - just for a little while. What has amazed me, though, is that except for that one day, I've pretty much let myself off the hook. I am one woman. One miserably sick, already showing a saggy lump [which has apparently replaced the cute bump of pregnancies one and two], kinda grumpy woman. I know who God better this time. I know He only expects what I have to give and right now that's just not a lot.

Every year our pastor asks us to pray for a word that will be our emphasis for the year as well as scripture to go with it. You never know how God will mold your year around the word you choose - it really is a cool exercise that has facilitated a lot of growth in my life. Due to the very lengthy explanation above, my word for the year is "wine." Any guesses about why??? ;)

Motherhood is just...motherhood.

This weekend I had the privilege of sitting down with some older, much wiser ladies. With one, in particular, I was sharing my struggles, my thoughts, my dreams - and I said something about successful motherhood being an either or sort of thing in the Christian arena - about there tending to be a stigma that goes with working, and about how I just really didn't buy into it anymore.

She said a thing to me that I keep replaying in my thoughts. The gist of what she said was this, "Emily, I wish we could entirely do away with the word 'secular' because it causes things to be categorized and that isn't the way the Bible says it is. Life is just...life. We eat. We exercise. We go to church. We spend time with our neighbors. We spend our money. We love our family. We work. Your life is your life - and what it looks like is between you and God."

Burn.

She's right.

I just read an article from a sight that is just for working moms - or appears to be. It listed a bunch of things never to say to working moms. I gotta say that people who are saying those things are probably saying insensitive junk to everyone else, too.  There are sights and articles just like it that are just for stay-at-home moms. None of them sit right with me because they are the very things that cause the mommy wars. They are the very sites that make us all shimmy our lives up beside each other so that we can carefully compare successes and failures.

To be fair, I really think the author in the aforementioned article was just expressing her heart. She was probably frustrated and used sarcasm and working mom pride to express it. I use sarcasm to express hurt and annoyance quite frequently and truly...I understand. She even says at the end that we should all just support each other - whoever we are. I am not slamming her, let's be clear about that.

I just want us to consider that maybe motherhood is just...motherhood. I want us to be sensitive and gracious and acknowledge that we each deal with so many insecurities and failures and hurts: every. single. day. [My oldest likes to tell me frequently that she likes Josh better than me] We all wonder if we are doing enough, being enough, following our hearts enough. I want to be a cheerleader for us all. I want to relish the journey of it all. I want to watch you do your thing in your own life and wonder at God's impressive work through it all.

I don't exactly know how to step out of this life long categorization of working mom vs. stay at home mom, thing, but I am working on it. I am working on asking questions about who a person is before I ask anything about what he or she does "for a living". Sometimes that's a huge part of who she is, but sometimes it just makes people feel inadequate. So maybe I should be sensitive to that. Maybe I should be more gracious and thoughtful all around.

Thoughts??

A God Who Makes Room: Part 1

I went to the meeting. The announcement had stirred me - not many things stir me like that, you know? The way your heart leaps and your soul leans in because you know what they're saying matters. So I asked my man if he'd like to go with me to the interest meeting. He was less than ecstatic because the logistics - financially and in this season of our life - of me going on a two week long trip across the world are just a little daunting. I told him that God can do whatever He wants.

And He does.

It turns out that as I sat in that meeting, longing to leave my normalcy and embark upon an adventure, God said to me: This is your adventure right now, Emily. You cannot leave your girls for two weeks. You will be a part of this trip, but I am asking you to stay here in the trenches.

A few days later we found out that Josh WOULD probably be going as part of his job. For two weeks - during which he would find a refreshed passion and I would turn 30 - in the trenches.

I struggled with this, understanding fully what God had whispered at the meeting. My role was to stay behind and be the mama so that Josh could go and lead to the fullest of ability. I'm not very good at staying behind. And in my head I decided that I would not - that we would be plunking down the enormous amount of money to fly to Louisiana - or drive - if that's what it took. I was NOT staying here in crazy-ville - alone.

As we began to crunch the numbers, my heart looked toward the possibility of doing this alone for two weeks. I felt nauseated. Then Josh came home and mentioned that he'd be sending out support letters - that everyone going was responsible for paying/raising the funds for their own way - even the pastors. So, could I really, in good conscience, say, "We need you to help us send Josh on this trip, but we can totally shell out $500+ to get me and the girls to Louisiana?"

In the shower - AKA my prayer closet - God said "No." And I accepted His answer. I didn't like it, but I accepted it. And then this happened...

 

This is an excerpt from a little something my sister and I are doing together. This was originally written directly to her. Some of the language has been edited for safety purposes and because I talk different to the woman who has been my best friend all my life.

But I am pressing onward - learning to flex and release - because He makes it clear that this is all there is. To bend and let go of everything I want, to release it all to Him and trust Him enough to let Him do as He pleases with the tenderest corners of my heart.

Last night I took the girls to a Night of Worship at the church that was in support of Josh's trip. I knew it would be crazy trying to corral the girls in the back while Josh did his job and everyone else worshiped. I knew I would be flying solo because in everything about this trip, I will be flying solo. Hairy, it was. The girls were active at best, cranky at worst. I started to get that anxiety feeling in the pit of my stomach, knowing that this is what I had to face in a month. For two weeks, this “hanging on to self control by a tiny thread” feeling was what there was.

I want to make it about me. I want Josh to know how hard it will be. I want him to feel sorry for me and maybe a little bit guilty about going. Well, part of me does. The other part of me is annoyed with that part of me. Because really I want to be humble and serve my family graciously. I want to be unafraid and selfless because my heart truly breaks for the people this team is going to serve. They know loneliness I cannot even fathom. I want Josh to know that we are going to be fine. That I am capable, not crazy. I want him to be free to love those people entirely, unconcerned about whether or not his wife is yelling at his kids everyday - or whether he’s going to come back to a full-fledged nut job. I want him to be excited about going.

And then they started in on You Revive Me. God said, “This is your anthem. I can do this through you. Let me carry you. I will be your River of Joy in the desert. I know you feel empty and poor. That’s good - Emily - so good. I’m the treasure you can’t afford. What you are doing here, with these girls IS kingdom work. You are their first picture of Jesus. How you respond to your husband doing ministry will affect them for the rest of their lives. What you are doing here - oh yes, it is a monumental, exhausting task. I will revive you. Even though no one sees. Even though they will all pat Josh on the back and share their stories of watching others be revived. Even though you feel the vastness of solitude pressing in on you. I see you. Your work matters. I love your little girls as much as I love those Josh is going to serve - you be my instrument of revival in their little hearts. I see you.”

And so, here I go. I know my God - I know Him in the dark and in the light. He will protect me and keep me. He will revive me at the last hour if I will not work so hard to numb His touch with country music, television, and even novels. None of those are bad, but they are when I use them to numb. Pray for me, sister. I know the enemy is prowling around the perimeter of this house, waiting for an opportunity to slip in and wreak havoc.

If he does try anything, pray that I have the strength and soundness of mind to go all ninja southern mama on his hiney.

 

What I want to say to you is that two weeks later, Josh came in from a very long day of work - which meant that it had also been a very long day for me - and informed me that a family that we go to church with wanted to pay for me and the girls to go back to Louisiana while Josh was gone. And also, my Mama and Daddy who have always worked so hard to make sure I am taken care of, offered to do the same.

We leave on Sunday to go to the place that revives my spirit and fills my heart with joy - to be with the people who bring me great comfort and love my girls like I do.

God did not have to give me this gift. All kinds of women all over the world do what I do by themselves AND they work every.single.day. This is not lost on me. I am forever in awe of what they do. I could have stayed here. It would have been hard, but we would have managed. But this gift - it leaves me humbled and speechless.

He is a God who sees. He makes room for me and mine. He makes room for you and yours, too.

Green Beans and Cold Spaghetti

We sit across the table over plates of green beans and cold spaghetti. Yes, it's kind of weird but weekend food is just kind of weird around here. Marilee screams loudly and bangs on the French doors while she smudges her spitty cheeks all over the glass panes. She's watching her sister play hard with the poor Figaro, the cat, who has proven to be QUITE the good sport.

Marilee's screaming, banging, and squeaky smudging tagged onto Adelle's thumpity-thumps on the deck outside. Cold spaghetti. Desperate stares.

I finally say, "We need..."

And Josh jumps in, "...like 7 days away."

We take a moment and imagine where we would go and what we do. We don't come up with anything very exciting because, really, how would any of it ACTUALLY happen? I tell ya', we haven't been away from our children for more than 24 hours as a couple in about 2.5 years. I recognize that this probably isn't unusual.

You know what I'm talking about, right? About how you scratch the plan to watch a movie because, hello, it's already 9 pm and tomorrow is Sunday/church/THE most exhausting day of the week and there's no way staying up until 11 pm is a wise decision for anyone. Or how when you ask your husband for one thing you could work on and his response is, "I know part of it is just our stage of life, but...um...is there any way you could, like, not fall asleep on the floor as soon as I get home?" Or how you seriously wonder - just for a split second - how bad it would be just to leave the kids in bed and run to Lowe's together. Or how your man gets excited for his bathroom time - because it means he gets to be alone. Or how your most intense fantasy now consists of mostly sleep and possibly a little communication or hanky panky - but probably not both.

Tell me you KNOW what I'm talking about. That we really are not alone. Because if not, I'm going to have to feel jipped in some major way.

You do. You know. And I'm here to tell you that we do, too. That we are desperately fighting to have enough nice left over for each other at the end of each day. That a lot of days we just don't. That when people tell us to enjoy these years because they are the best of our lives, we nod because we know that in some ways they are right and that, either way, we really should be polite, but on the inside we are imagining them clipping the handle bars of their bike on a road sign causing them to flip off awkwardly - not falling hard enough to really injure themselves but big enough to make us laugh hysterically. [I may or may not have witnessed this very scene happen to the detriment of a very cute twenty something girl. I slowed down to make sure she was okay. And then I only giggled a little because I am all too aware that it could have been me - but instead of the cute twenty something I'd be the really tired "so-a-mom."]

Somehow we will make it through, and with the help of Jesus there will be a lot of joy and laughter mixed in along the way. All together now, let's push forward in this great parenting and/or marriage adventure...fists in the air, shout it out loud, let it be your anthem: Green beans and cold spagheeeeettiiiiiii!

Once upon a time I was a good mommy...

Once upon a time, I was a good mommy. I played and played and played with little A. We went to the park and the library and the mall and Chick-fil-a until we oozed fun and togetherness. There was no one cooler or more wonderful than me in those blue-green eyes of hers.

Then I had a miscarriage; then I had another one; and then I got pregnant and it "stuck" and we had to make it through those nine months of fun. Then Marilee was in and out of the hospital for three weeks and the hand, foot, and mouth disease and worst stomach virus ever, and the Job-like fiasco of September 2012. Then we had an infant and a new member of the family to adjust to. Then we bought a house and moved into it.

Somewhere between the crazy and the busy, I stopped being a good mommy - at least in little A's magnificent blue-green eyes. It's not that I didn't take good care of her. I did. It's not that I wasn't doing the best I could do given our circumstances. I was. It's not that she ever actually thought in her little pondering brain, "Mommy is dropping the ball like woah!" She didn't. But now that we are beginning to peak out from beneath the layers and layers of too much, I'm getting back into my groove. There is play time, people. There is soccer kicking and frisbee throwing. There is doll house playing and balloon bopping. There is - time.

A tide has turned and she is lighting up around me again. Girlfriend sucks down quality time like a drug. When I build towers or check out the roly polies, I say, "I love you." She is hearing it again loudly from me for the first time in a long time, and I'm full up with happiness because of it.

Today we traipsed back across town to our old Winter Park stomping grounds. Nothing beats the kid's section at the Winter Park Public Library. People, they have gerbils. And blocks. And ancient puzzles. The area is small so I don't have to worry about Miss Magnificent carrying her hiney too far away.





I let Marilee crawl all over the floor and put Legos in her mouth. My how things have changed. Also, when I pulled out her bottle to feed her, I set it on the table to get everything else situated. She arched her back and squealed at the top of her lungs. Two divas - excellent.

Adelle spontaneously grabbed her pants and proclaimed, "I gotta go tee tee!" So we packed everything up just to go to the bathroom. As we entered, we passed a lady on her way out. We smiled politely and then we entered the tiny one seater space and slammed straight into the brick wall of smelliness. Adelle jerked her little head around to look at me with the funniest stinky smell face I've ever seen. She kept saying, "Shoo-wee, Mommy! It smells weally bad!...Oh, Mommy...phew...this is disgusting!" As I balanced Marilee on my hip, helped Adelle wash her hands, and breathed through my mouth - I laughed until I cried.

And, as a freebie, I'll say this: I wore a K-Mart bra today. I'm pretty sure this was it's inagural donning [it's been in my drawer for a lot of years] because the straps, which are removeable, popped off no less than 5 times. As in, I had to hop right over the propriety line and hook those babies back on in the middle of the library, walking down swanky Park Ave, playing soccer in the park with Adelle. There's a reason we don't buy bras at K-Mart. You're welcome.

Speaking of the park, that's where we headed next. We ate lunch. Or, Marilee and I ate lunch while Adelle chattered endlessly and hopped all over the blanket trying to escape the bugs. They were gnats. She was flipping out. In all fairness, there was one stray june bug that, of course, found it's way to her leg. It was over after that. She could not consume another bite for fear that her stillness would bring on another june bug attack. Then the train rolled through and she freaked out again, but only minorly. Even so, she would.not.stop.trying.to.sit.on.me!

The girl is undeniably mine.



We played a round of kick the sort of inflated soccer ball. Adelle ordered me around in a roudy game of "do work while baby sleeps." I cannot make these things up, folks. I took pictures of these little beauties with the fancy camera. I came prepared because it's so pretty there!







 

I swoon.









 

You should know that the following shots were taken by force. I was peeling her off of me far enough to get a shot of her face. She was holding tightly to my shirt, which revealed my wonky K-Mart bra to the world. We were both laughing hysterically.



 

I'm wild about this girl!





We loaded it all up and headed for the fountain so that Adelle could make her penny contribution to the needy [insert eye roll] Winter Park area. Upon arriving at the side of the fountain, as I was digging for change in the bottomless pit of a bag that hung from my sweaty shoulder, the Magnificently terribly timed One grabbed her pants again and yelled loudly, "Ahhh! I gotta go tee tee! I dust went a widdle in my panties!"

You're welcome, elderly gentleman enjoying some peace and quiet on the bench beside us.

We hauled hiney to Barnie's - two birds with one stone, I thought. Mama needed some coffee.

Fail. The one seater was occupied and after our experience at the library, I didn't feel that sad about it.

Four stores down, Williams-Sonoma saved our lives/pants.

We made our way back to the car, skipping right past Barnies. Upon arriving at the car, I peeked around to find this:



Sweet Nugget of tasty chubbiness...wrecked my plans for a lengthy afternoon nap.

My consolation prize?



 

The one by my house has a drive through - glory!

So, if anyone is at the bottom of a lot of layers of too much, I hope this gives you the strength to push through another day of heaviness. Let's all raise our arm in one, unified fist pump and shout, "It will get betterrrr!!"

 

A Gift of Tenderness

Here's the truth - I have something I'm dying to tell you about - a thing God is doing in my heart that makes me deeply and entirely excited. I got up at 6 am ready to take full advantage of the presence of The Hunk's laptop [because our computer is busted...again] - to fill up a post with words about God bending low to undo me and do me back up again. About how He's thrilling me in who He is, what He's doing, and about His life-altering Word. About how I don't really know how to let people in, to show weakness, or to accept help. About free for the sake of freedom.

BUT Miss Magnificent woke up early this morning because her tummy is [still] hurting. She then requested that I lay beside her on the blow up mattress that is in our family room because we, in fact, have no furniture to go in there - while we watch Toy Story 2. Then she needed her Toy Story figurines - obviously - and the TV remote wouldn't work, naturally, and I had to heave myself up off of the deflating mattress about four times before we settled in. Also, she won't.stop.talking to me, and she wants her breakfast. Now Miss Marilee's little voice is dancing over the monitor.

I'm trying to learn to accept these things as God's providence - a gift, even - and not some tragic twist of fate designed to thwart my opportunities to do what I deem important.

So instead I just want to tell you about yesterday. Thursday. Thursday followed Wednesday, which followed Tuesday. Oh, Tuesday - the breaking point. I'll tell you about that another time, but we'll call it The Day I Cried "Uncle" at the feet of Jesus, and on the phone with my Mama, and before The Hunk. I believe my exact words went something like, "I just need to know He sees me. I need to know His will is not just about beating me senseless because my personality is so strong and stubborn. I need a little tenderness."

Josh surprised me and picked Adelle up from school yesterday and came home early, just because. We spontaneously spent the beautiful afternoon at the park as a family and made a Target run. We made homemade pizzas and break and bake cookies. We watched a movies and danced in the wide open family room. It was nothing extraordinary at all, but it was one of the first glimpses of normalcy I've had since Marilee was born.

It was a gift of tenderness.















Tomorrow - maybe tomorrow is the day that I get to tell you about my undoing but right now there are waffles to be made. How do I know? Little A is wallowing all over my right arm as I type.

The Truth about Being a Stay at Home Mom: Sometimes I'd Really Love to Go to Work

We were sitting at our beat up kitchen table munching on PB&J's and Goldfish around noon on an entirely average day. Miss Magnificent was filling the room with her word quota for the hour when she said, "Mommy, I want to be a teacher when I grow up." This was not news to me - there is a certain, shall we say, bossy gene that I generously bestowed upon her sandy blonde little head, apparently - and being a teacher seems like the best way to scratch that itch. I get it. I nodded and said that I thought she'd be a very good teacher. She paused, very uncharacteristically, just for a moment and then said, "Wait, but I want to be a mommy, too. How can I be a teacher AND a mommy?!" It was very puzzling to her, this idea of being in charge and working to lead a group of people AND staying at home to do whatever in the heck it is Mommies do. I said something about God showing her exactly what to do and when to do it and not needing to worry about that right now.

The truth is, I struggle with this very same conundrum. My whole life it's like there were these two sides of me - the side that got up and went to work and set goals and led AND the side of me that stayed home and cuddled babies and cooked dinner and, well, led. Admittedly, the stay home side was always stronger and upon having babies, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that me being home is exactly right for our family. I am in no way trying to presume what is right for yours. All the same, that other side didn't just go away. She is still in there itching to get out. To don a classy, feminine suit that would pretty much knock you to your knees. To get up every morning and go to a place where people notice my work and I can achieve tangible goals on a daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly basis. I have found myself daydreaming about working me in all sorts of careers. A kick butt surgeon [thanks to Grey's which is a totally accurate depiction of real life surgeons, no?], an editor [what if you got to read books for a living?], a corporate manager [how very fun it would be to boss, ahem, lead grown ups], OR I could lose the fancy suit and office and trade it for really quirky but classy clothes and be a full-time-work-from-a-coffee-shop-writer. You like how my outfit matters in all of this, don't you? Mostly I work wearing something with coffee, spit-up, or snot on my boob:



You can see why fantasizing about pretty clothes and doing my make-up every day is a thing.

The reality is that I do not nor will I be working in any of those situations - probably ever - and I must continue to choose to see the value in what I do every day and rest in what I know God has called ME to do. You don't have to tell me of it's importance or how blessed I am to be ABLE to do it. I have a mama who was home through my entire childhood...I seriously get how valuable it is. I am TOTALLY grateful! I'm not offering up a fix for this little problemo. I don't actually think there's anything to be offered. The tricky dichotomy of being a woman in our culture just...is. I wanted you all to know that whether you are a stay at home mom or you work outside of the home, there is no perfect answer. Everyone is sacrificing something. Most women feel a pull in the direction that they are not leaning into, at least every now and again. How about we endeavor to encourage each other lavishly instead of pick each other apart? I'm all in if you are!

The Truth about Being a Stay at Home Mom: Because We're Guhls!

They bounced merrily down the hall, bumping into each other and giggling wildly. I watched, sharing in a little bit of their uninhibited happiness, as my pint-sized three year old looked at her two friends and laugh-spoke, "Hey! Wets hold hands!" Without a moment's hesitation, the all grabbed hold of each other and continued to be bop their way down the hall. Suddenly, my girl turned around with a smile big as the sun and squealed, "Mommy, we wike to hold hands because we're guhls!"



I was struck. She is right. We like to hold hands, to be near each other, to feel the touch of another, to know that we have a friend, to bump into each other from every which way even when it hurts - because we're guhls.



I forgot how lonely the first year of a baby's life can be for mommy. It's hard to get out of the house and do the things that you normally would because you have to pack up your whole house to do it. You're so tired that the idea of packing up your whole house and doing anything other than what is absolutely necessary to survive today is out of the question. You're so lonely that you wish you could just get some sleep so you could have the energy to pack up the whole house and keep it clean and play with your kids and cook dinner the next day. You're so cranky that you start to slip into the poor pitiful me t-shirt because there's no one around to remind you that there are other people out there with life experiences just like yours - or life experiences much harder than yours - or to say, "Good job, Em. You're doing great!"



Then one Wednesday you force yourself to do all five days of last weeks Bible study homework because you're the leader and calling out two weeks in a row goes against every responsible bone in your body. You look into the faces of five other women, most of whom you don't actually know very well, and listen to THEIR stories and share a little of your own. You tell the truth and laugh a little and don't discipline anyone or get vomited on. You leave feeling about five hundred times better and it occurs to you, "I like to hold hands because I'm a guhl!"



Can I offer a piece of wisdom that I am learning? Always assume that everyone feels lonely. Take the initiative. BE. A. FRIEND. I can pretty much guarantee you that at least every other gal you come in contact with will eat it up - as though she's been friendship starved or something. As though she is weary of being the friend and taking the initiative and may have possibly given up on it all together. Seriously, be the friend. Not just the kind that says, "We should get together soon," but the kind that calls and says, "What are you doing tomorrow? Want to come over? I have PB and J's and goldfish and you can come in your PJ's...without make-up if you want." If you're the one being asked, get over all of your hang ups and fears, pack up the house, throw the kids in the car, and make brushing your teeth your only beauty goal of the morning. Set aside your pride for some hand holding time instead of whining about it.



If we could all embrace both sides of the friendship, we might just be able to find the giggly little girl within - and be bop our way down the increasingly narrow, up hill hall of life.



Love y'all like crazy!

 

Next up: When you would give up coffee to get up and go to work

So over it.

Yesterday, after the fit throwing post, I picked Adelle up from class and we stopped in Josh's office. He mentioned the blog post and chuckled. I said something about there still being dishes in the sink and cried. This prompted and immediate declaration, on his part, that Mommy was taking a night off. The rules, again on his part, were that I leave and do whatever I want and not come back until after the girls were in bed.

The man truly is a saint.

So, in true submissive wife form [hahaha], I grabbed An American Duchess and those fun gardening books I received yesterday and made a bee line for Panera. I ate whatever I wanted. I came so very close to finishing said Duchess novel, which is a small miracle because I've been reading since sometime in July. I did not check my phone repeatedly. I marveled for a while at the pretty gardening pictures, but in the end I made no effort to plan anything. I just enjoyed myself - no back motive at all.

The deal is this: I "over" everything.  Over plan, overreach, over expect, overdo, over improve, overreact, over think, overachieve...oversleep. I have to take careful precautions in my life to guard against this sort of "over" disease.  Last night God knew what I needed. He heard your prayers. He spoke to my husband. My husband graciously gave me orders. I miraculously followed them. I took a break - not the kind that involved intense Bible study or crazy errand running or devoted life planning - but that kind where you slip haphazardly into the world of another and eat carbs to your heart's content...and then buy a new maxi skirt at TJMaxx.

I went to bed. I woke up and God gave me the clarity of mind to remember about my "over" disease. So, some things that helped me today included:

*Don't over schedule because then you feel rushed which causes you to impatiently rush Adelle who responds very negatively to being rushed.

*When you take both of your children to Hobby Lobby, don't over shop. Get what you need and get to Barnes and Noble ASAP where Adelle can play. While you are there, don't over think. Allow yourself to let go of the rest of the day and be all there with her. 20 minutes of focused fun time goes much further than an hour of distracted attention.

*Don't over expect or overreact in the area of your children's behavior or the overall flow of your day. Things will happen. Children will yank tiny shamrocks off the Hobby Lobby shelves and try to get out of the store with them. Roll with it. Carefully watch the tone of your voice through every moment of the day. Interact with your kids while you run errands instead of making it obvious that they are annoying you.

*Don't over try to make the house perfect. Upstairs looks decent. Accept that as a victory.

*Don't overstimulate by turning on the additional noise of the TV while you're feeding the baby. Instead sit in silence or read your escape of a book. Ten minutes of quiet escape go a long way.

*Don't over eat when you feel stressed. It'll make you feel more stressed later when those pre-baby jeans still.won't.button. Instead, eat a yogurt and some hummus with pita chips and accept that as good enough.

 

So far, today has been a much more successful day while be no less eventful. It has included me standing in the parking lot of Hobby Lobby for 10 minutes while I tried to get the new double stroller open and another 10 minutes while I tried to get it closed - and then had to call Josh so that he could talk me through it because I was failing AND only one 45 minute nap for Marilee from 7am to 2 pm due to our errand running and the fact that we were locked out of her room because Adelle had to lock up the "castle" when we left.

Can I just say that your words mattered? Every one that was sent my way - via Facebook or text or blog comment, they each mattered greatly and I am grateful to have you on my "team". Please know that I am also on yours and if you ever feel like you might be losing it, please contact me. I will listen and believe that it is every bit as difficult as you say it is. And then I'll tell you you can do it!

I love you all like crazy!!

Something's Gotta Give

I am struggling this week. Fo' reals.

Upon coming out of the blur that was August 28-December 31, our family is now trying to figure out how to function as a unit of four instead of three. January marked the end of survival mode and the beginning of thrival [so not a word but it sounds pretty] mode - I was hoping for that, anyway.

Everyone said going from one to two is really hard. Mentally I had prepared for really hard, no sleep, no time. I wasn't blown away by any of that. I mean, it's hard and I'm tired and I'd love to have a day off, but I had braced myself for it. This being a mother of two, though - that I was not prepared for. It had not occurred to me that the part where Adelle is no longer my only baby and has thus transformed from the sweet little sugar of wonderfulness to the kid who pretty much seems disgusted with my every word and/or move. In addition to, and perhaps because of this, I am increasingly annoyed with her incessant talking and constant demanding of attention, which I feel guilty about. Throw in the fact that I can choose to clean the house, which absolutely needs it, or try to develop some plan of action for creating enjoyable situations for Adelle when she is home tomorrow and couple THAT with the fact that Marilee has decided that naps [and sometimes eating] are no longer for her, and I feel like I'm going to scream most of the time, which I also feel guilty about.

THEN there's the fact that I have all this creativity DYING to be released somewhere - on a computer screen, in the dirt outside, on the walls and walls of emptiness in our home - but when, I ask you, should I release this creativity?

You probably think that I need some more Jesus in my life. That's the problem, you may say. However, me and Jesus are all kinds of hanging out. He would be the reason I don't scream [most of the time].

Some of you have 3, 4, and 5 kids and you think I sound like a big, fat baby. I accept this entirely and acknowledge that you are probably right, but this is where I am right now. Struggling to figure out whether or not God's asking me to give up the creativity that matters to me or the clean house that matters to The Hunk or the good mothering that matters to my girls or bits and pieces of it all - because something's gotta give.

Today, it's mostly the clean house:



 

Any wisdom at all that can be offered here will be gladly accepted. Other than that, I hope someone else out there is feeling me!

 

Pumpkin Waffle True Life

Today Marilee slept until 9. I kid you not. So, while Adelle watched Barney, I slept until 8:45 - until Adelle came in and said, "Mommy, peez wake up! I want some bek-fuss!" And so I rolled myself out of bed and after we got Marilee fed, asked Adelle if she'd like to make some pumpkin waffles for breakfast.

Every once in a while I have a day where I don't try to get things I done. I just let it be a day of playing with the kids and maybe making up the beds. The rest of the house suffers but at this point, there's no helping our half-packed/fully chaotic home - so today is a sleep 'til 9, eat pumpkin waffles at 10:30, watch TV, work puzzles, shake rattles, play with tiny Bambi figurines, etc...kind of day.



Doesn't that sound rose-y?

Here's the truth: After we completed the waffles, Marilee started crying. In my rush to get Adelle's waffle fixed so that I could put Marilee down for her nap, I smashed Adelle's finger in the utensil drawer. I proceeded to let Adelle watch TV while she ate her sticky waffle at the coffee table so that I could rock Marilee in peace. In the midst of trying to get the TV on, Marilee spit up all over me and the floor. Adelle asked, "What happened," over and over again until I asked HER not to ask any more questions. She didn't like that idea and stood in front of me asking, "What happened," while I tried to find her show AND not scream as loud as I could. Marilee sat in her swing and cried during all of this. Adelle proceeded to head butt me in my stomach because she was mad that I wouldn't answer her. I sent her to her room, which made her really upset because she wanted to eat her pumpkin waaaaaffle!"

I know you're probably all thinking, "Why didn't you just tell her what happened? Choose your battles, Em." I agree with you entirely except that she has to learn that she doesn't always get to know the answer. I promise she asks one question every five minutes, and I usually answer them, but occasionally we just don't get to know what we want to know. See what I'm saying?

After about two minutes of trying to rock a screaming, fighting Marilee to sleep, I gave up and put her in her swing. I fixed myself an egg to go with MY pumpkin waffle, and I asked Adelle not to talk to me anymore until her show was over because I needed some quiet time. She complied. Marilee is asleep. I am here telling you that we're all just doing the best we can. I could have left out the spit up and the head butting shennanigans, but that wouldn't be the truth. The triumph in this story is not that we made homemade pumpkin waffles as a glowing family. The triumph is that we all had breakfast and I didn't yell at anyone. The triumph is that I'm going to get myself off of this computer and color with Adelle until Marilee wakes up. Then we'll do it all again. The triumph is that the mere knowledge of this doesn't send me running for the hills.

So cut yourself a break and look for the real triumphs today!