Embracing the Mess

Let's be real here. Being a mom is hard. End of story, well not a good end of story, but the statement stands alone and every mom that reads it rolls her eyes and says "Tell me something I don't know!" So here it is, something mama's don't know. They say it, they preach it, they tell it to each other but knowing means allowing yourself to internalize it and accept it as part of your story, your song, your being:
You are amazing, invaluable, and a gift to your children.

I say this like this is something that I have some tangible knowledge of but I type it for me as much as for the rest of you.

We WILL make mistakes, things WILL go wrong, you will have that freak out moment that leaves your children staring at the crazy lady who just took over their mama's body, and you wanna know why? Because we are HUMAN!
Also because if we set an impossible standard for our children we would just be setting them up for failure and grief later in life because...

They are HUMAN too!
Which is why they are so hard to live with at times.

Teaching your children how to survive being around people and how to deal with, apologize to, and forgive in a fallen world is such a great part of why you are here.

Your mistakes are not always a scar on their little psyche, a crushing of their spirit, or an unforgivable blight, it is an opportunity to teach compassion for those in leadership roles, to model empathy, sympathy, and above all humility and forgiveness.

These are the things that we remember about those who brought us up, those who we loved and admired.
In order to love, we as humans must gloss over these rough patches, taking in the whole, seeing the love, embracing compassion, and seeking to be best of what we see in others.

The inner eye is much harsher, prone to magnifying faults, but if we were to look at ourselves through the same eyes that we look at our loved ones, taking a moment to accept that beautiful picture, we would see an entirely different person.
One bathed in forgiveness, grace, and redemption, and, perhaps, there we would catch a glimmer of understanding, a minute trace of comprehension, of what our children see when they look at us with such adoration...

because we are their mothers, mommys, moms, mamas... 

...however you say it, whatever language, no matter your age, it has a beautiful meaning all its own.

Wear the name proudly, mamas, and seek the joy in every messy, disastrous moment of it.

You are amazing.

If Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness I'm In Trouble

I decided that I needed a bath.

My smallest had thrown up some the night before, so far it had not seemed to be contagious, something just didn't sit right, but it meant a long night of light sleep waiting to hear the sounds of upchucking from my sons room. So it's no surprise that I woke up with an achy back, sinus congestion, and a touch of asthma. 

"A bath will solve my problems." I thought forgetting I had kids. 

My youngest came in as soon as he heard the water. At first we were just playing tag with the rubber ducky. I would set it on the side of the tub and my one year old would toss it back in. Not exactly relaxing but manageable.

Then he found my phone and started to bring that to me in the tub. Thank goodness I saw that coming was able to head him off before he got within tossing distance. Once that was taken away and tucked out of sight behind a towel he lost interest and wandered off for a moment.

Ahhh... relaxation.

He wandered back in and looked around, presumable for something else to throw in the tub. Suddenly I saw his eyes lock on something, where there should be nothing of interest, and light up just a bit. This got my attention. On the bathroom floor is bad enough, but pointed interest in something small on the bathroom floor never ends in a happy place. He bent down and picked up the something off the floor as I lunged to try to confiscate whatever it was. He got there first and held up his prize.

I was horrified! 

It was a chunk of craisin... 

on the bathroom floor... 

that had fallen off of him...

as I stripped his PUKED ON clothes off the night before!

I had tried to keep it all contained, I had checked and double checked but this gruesome nugget of a dried cranberry had gumption. It had come back whole, rolled away from the gooey massacre of its companions and laid in wait to tempt my toddler.

I lunged for the baby again but he carefully danced back just out of reach with a huge grin in his face throw up berry in his hand. I watched him for a moment trying to decide if a sudden movement would result in him dropping it or if I should go to a "let me see what you got" in a sweet voice and hold out my hand. Before I had reached a conclusion he looked at the craisin and...

...popped it in his MOUTH
in one quick movement that left me no time for more than a horrified gasp.

I just stared for a moment...

Then with a giggle, while chewing, he ran out of the bathroom.

"Run away! Bwahaha!" 

I sat there stunned, dangling over the edge of the tub, not quite gagging, mentally vacillating between dumbfounded blanks of pure disbelief, and an occasional bout of trying to convince myself that this child was not going to throw up at any moment.

While I was pondering these beautiful thoughts my darling little prince wandered in again, looked at me, still chewing, giggled, as before, did a little happy dance hop thing as I lunged, the absurd thought in my head was to try to dig this horror out of his mouth, and took off again.

This time I got out of the tub, dried off, my mind and stomach still reeling, trying to mentally brace myself for... for I don't know what.

As I wrapped up my hair this crazy child once again wandered in.

He held out his hand.

Into my hand he carefully scraped the mushed up skin of a well chewed craisin, giggled, smiled proudly at me and took off seemingly completely unaware of the look of disgust that had etched itself indelibly across his poor mother's face.

As I stared at this reddish smear on my once clean palm only one coherent thought emerges: "I think I need another bath".

The same grin he gave my during
my fruitless attempts... pun intended.

Trouble Comes in Threes

     You know that saying that trouble comes in threes? Well I believe it! Three days, three kids, three different illnesses. I'm just praying that it doesn't get shared three ways because this thing could initiate a geometric growth pattern before you could bleach the first door knob.

Child one, day one, illness one:

      Friday night, or more correctly early Saturday morning my youngest started throwing up. He felt a little warm but I didn't think feverish. I sat up with him all night remembering how a mere six hours previously he had been having a grand old time sticking his pacifier in my mouth.

      'What was that? Is my stomach growling or groaning? Do I feel queasy or is it just that someone has been throwing up on me all night?'

     Parenthood is hypochondria, always trying to not overthink yourself into a self induced illness and yet subvert illnesses as quickly as possible because... you're a parent. 

     The little prince was grumpy from lack of sleep but ate well and kept it all down the next day. No one else showed any similar symptoms until..

Child two, day two, illness two:

     My oldest boy started to complain of a headache on Saturday afternoon. It was bad enough that he didn't eat much dinner and went to bed with little fuss, which is the true indication of illness.

     'Did the little one start with a headache? How would I know? What does a one year old with a headache look like? I bet sweet boy starts throwing up around midnight. It's most likely the same thing.'

     The headache kept him from sleeping, only abating with Tylenol, and lasted through Sunday night. I finally called the nurse and she recommended sleep and bringing him in tomorrow if he still had it in the morning. He was fine the next morning.

     Parenthood is over analyzing every possible symptom. If you can catch it early maybe it won't spread to the rest of us, and then back and to the rest of us and... you get the picture. 

      So we survived the weekend, everyone's healthy again... right?

 Child three, day three, illness three:

      Both boys are finally rested up from their interrupted nights. We all head our separate ways on Monday morning. When I pick up baby girl she seems lethargic.

     'Maybe she was kept up while the boys were sick and hasn't caught up yet? Maybe her allergies are acting up? Maybe she's really hungry.'

     We all lie down for afternoon naps, baby girl wanted to cuddle so I inevitable drift off as well. When I wake up, because it's time to pick up the oldest from school, I notice that she feels HOT! I rush us all into the car, pick up my oldest.
    Once he is in the car I call their pediatrician and sit on hold. Meanwhile I run by the house for a thermometer, some Tylenol, which is becoming a hot commodity in our household, and our forgotten lunch (one asleep in the car on the way home, the other asleep while we waited for Daddy to eat with us = no lunch til 3:30 pm).

     Her temp is 102. Headache? A little. Stomach ache? Not really. Link to the boys? None that I can see.

     About this time I'm finally off hold and get an appointment.

     The verdict: Strep… which we had less than a month ago… which is not known for causing headaches that go away or vomiting. Of course, it is something totally different.

     I have them test the little prince for good measure (the oldest was with his Dad since taking three to the doctor is a nightmare of epic proportions), and stare open mouthed when the doctor confirms that as far as she can tell, they all have had different things.

     Three days…three unrelated problems… one half glance at what my future self would look like if they all pass these around was enough to make me slam a mental door on that thought and try to figure out how none of these could be transferable.

     'Maybe they all had a cold and it opened them up to be susceptible to different secondary problems? They aren't sharing cups. No one else should get strep, right? Maybe the little one had food poisoning and the oldest had allergies. Those aren't really catchable illnesses. They can't all get all of these things?' 

     Parenthood is coming up with reasons when what you see defies reason, or logic, or what you think you can survive. 

Parenthood, when you put it all together, is calling your mom to ask,"How in the world is this even possible!?"

If you spill a box of spaghetti...

     I knew I was too tired to function when I absentmindedly leaned over to straighten the baby gate and poured out half a box of dry spaghetti.
     I know the box was closed when I bought it, children had put it in the cart and on the conveyor at check-out, and no open package will survive that. Also I was pretty sure that it had been closed moments before when I had fished it out of the bags in the car and walked in with it, which was just before the moment that I had leaned over to fix the baby gate. Therefore I must have opened said box somewhere between the car and the house without knowing it.
     A mom on autopilot is not a good thing... in so many ways.

They look harmless...

     After I finished taking care of cooking the rest of the spaghetti, (I was making dinner for our church so it really couldn't be put off), I herded all the kids into my middle childs room, the neatest, most baby friendly room in the house, handed the kids an ipod with instructions to watch two Mickey Mouse cartoons, no more, (that's all we had time for before we needed to leave for church,) and lay down on the floor to take a power nap.
     The older two were happy with the cartoon and the youngest went back and forth between bothering his siblings and poking at me. In spite of all this, and the fact that I was lying on the floor, I was out in no time. A testament to how deep my exhaustion went.
     A blissful and peaceful moment.
     I was suddenly very awake when a vaguely familiar shooting pain exploded from my nose. The familiar feeling was my youngest son shoving his finger as hard as he could up my nose. I wish I could say this was the first time this had ever happened, but I can't.  I can say that this was the first time that I had woken up to it, though. I wish I knew why he did it, but I don't. I even wish that I could say that I woke up kindly and without shoving the assaulting infant away from me, but yeah right.

I got your nose!

     Well, now I was awake, very awake, and I knew what was coming next, my nose was bleeding, majorly bleeding. As I attempted to staunch, or catch, or divert the flow from my clothes, my children, and/or the carpet, my oldest began to freak out. He doesn't like blood. Trying to speak over the budding hysterics and dripping, I asked him to get toilet paper, or a washcloth, or anything from the other room for me.
     This is where it got interesting.
     I hear the clunk clunk of the doorknob, and the worried, "Uhhhh" of my son. "It's locked." he says.
     'That's crazy, who would lock the door, while we were all on the inside'.
     The spaghetti incident did not bode well for that train of thought so I moved on to train of thought B-
     'Can't be'.
     Assuming that he was just over reacting to the blood I fumble for the knob myself and find that it indeed is locked.

     Locked...
     My phone... in the other room...
     My husband... on his way to church
     The lockpick... not above the door

     In quick succession all my solutions were flying out the door that I couldn't get open.
     So I sat there, dripping blood, trying to figure out how to use the ipod to get a message to my husband while the kids scoured the room for something long and thin enough to pick the lock.

     Did I mention that this was the cleanest, most baby friendly room in the house?

     No such luck.

     One of the older ones had smuggled in one of the sticks of spaghetti, I had missed a few when I cleaned up the first disaster of the afternoon, but the piece was a little too short and I was afraid it would break off in the lock and ruin all of our future chances.
     Finally my eyes lit on the window.

     Had I left the front door unlocked?

     It was the one window with no screen so that wasn't the problem. Would I be able to fit my large bleeding self through that opening, into the rose bush that was planted just in front of it?

     No way.

     But my oldest could fit!
     I lowered him out the window, and around the bush, trying not to bleed on him... where he would see it... and he ran around the corner of the house.
     A few long seconds later we hear the rattle of the door knob, this time from the outside and resolving with that beautiful final clunk that meant that it was now unlocked.
     "I rescued you!" he exclaimed as he bounced through the door.

     Nodding to his self accolades I run to the shower to clean off and to avoid making a bigger mess while the bleeding stopped. Soon all was cleaned up and we were finally on our way.

Best excuse...ever.

     This is why dinner for the church was late but...
 
 you have to admit that this is one of the best excuses you've heard in a really, really, long time.

I Love You a Lifetime Worth

     I have known my husband since I was 17 years old. I was just coming out of the awkward, breaking into the unknown, and making as many stupid mistakes as I thought could get away with. I was selfish, a little vain, unsure of my place in the world, and moving into adulthood as trepidatiously as I could without losing face.

2003- K11 Formal

     I know that the girl that he met then cannot be the same one he wakes up to every morning. I am nearly 15 years older, three children older, and several heart breaking losses older. Each of these things have lined my face, my body, and my mind in their own relentless but gentle way. Life has carried me softly through these years and I can only hope that in time the sharp edges of my faith and personality will round out into the gentle curves that my body has. 

     I am still selfish, a little more thoughtful, demanding of those closest to me, and always striving to overcome the long list of shortcomings I am painfully aware of in myself and in doing so exhaust myself.

2005- At a friends wedding the
day after we got engaged.

     The steadfastness of my husband's love and desire for me through what I feel are drastic changes astounds me. It is on occasion both breathtaking and confounding to me. He doesn't see the faults as I do, as glaring errors in my general make up that flaw the whole. They are side effects of the things that he loves about me, my fierce spirit, my love for people, my vast but limited energy, and my desire to lead us all the be better people.

     I have never seen him hesitate to profess his love for me or flinch away from my body even in the distortions, the icky-ness, and the awkwardness that can come during pregnancy. Don't misunderstand me, pregnancy and the pregnant form is profound and beautiful, but it is messy, painful, and humbling too. A husband gets to see what the maternity photos don't show. The nausea, the blood, and all the other less photogenic side effects of this marvelous time.

2005- Silliness on our
wedding day

     So in this short little post here I want to thank the Lord for blessing me with a man that is more than I deserve, all that I need, and sometimes as much I can stand. And I want to thank Daniel for his patience, his desire for God, and his unyielding love for me. These years would have been a bleak shadow compare to what they were without you there in the midst of them. 

     Here is to another two weeks, another year, another decade. I love you a lifetime worth and I am so happy to be called your wife.

2015

Blessings in Contrast

Check out these dance moves

My daughter is a typical three year old. She tests boundaries, has limited awareness of where her limbs are, and unbridled exuberance when something appeals to her. She is a little ball of energy barely tempered by the knowledge that there are somethings that have consequences... if mommy catches her doing it. If she could get away with it she would prance, dance, and run headlong through life.
Yesterday we were at Chick-fil-a, the mom mecca, as my sister-in-law calls it, and it was time for us to go. I had two bags on one shoulder and my 20 lbs one year old on the opposite hip. I stopped at the counter to get a refill on my caffeination, aka sweet tea, therefore all my hands were occupied.

"I'm ready to go now."

Baby girl had a monster truck that one of my children had smuggled in from the car. This in hand, she took off down the length of the counter, barely dodging a young couple, driving this truck at top speed. I apologized and called her back to me. Instead of walking back to me, the way someone in my brain that fails to learn from past experiences expected her to, she turned, verbally revving the trucks engine, and shot back down the counter, startling a woman as she dodged in front of her and that same couple that I had already apologized to before stopping at my side. I look up, second apology on my lips but before I could do more than stutter the woman looks right at me and says, "How can you let your child run wild?!"...
Me, the couple, and the kid behind the counter all just stared at her for a few shocked moments as my brain tried to process what she had just said. I was hurt, embarrassed, and beginning to feel indignant.

My oldest sons 7th birthday, we went to
Chick-fil-a after school and got a
sweet suprise.

The couple were the first to recover and looking my way said softly, "That was so rude!" to which the kid behind the counter replied, "That was totally uncalled for."
Their votes of solidarity brought the air back to my lungs. And I walked out with my head held high thankful that those kind of people were the ones that I typically found in Chick-fil-a.
Chick-fil-a is a safe place for me and other moms. The staff knows us by name, opens the door for me when I have to drag fussing children out of the building, and always offers a smile when I ask for anything, no matter how bizarre. The other customers are typically good humored, understanding, and willing to pardon unintended offenses committed by my children.

Cow Appreciation Day 2015

So what I want to say to this woman, who it feels called every fiber of my motherhood into question, is thank you, Thank you for reminding me why I come here, why I feel so comfortable here, and for laying out in stark contrasts the loving and patient people that I find every day. I don't know what your day had been like but I hope that at the end of it you feel half as loved and blessed as I do every day.

Time Out Blues

I got the don't wanna sit

Makes me wanna spit

Momma won't let me play

Gotta stay here all the live long day

Time Out Blues

So what if I kicked my brother

He was being such a bother

Don't ask me about my sister

Does it count if I missed when I hit her?

The Time Out Blues

I cry til my nose runs clear
I shed every remorseful tear
I promise I'll never to it again
As long as they follow my plan
The Time Out Blues

My stomach is starting to hurt

My eyes are full of something like dirt

My mind abounds with random fears

My maladies fall on Moms deaf ears to my

Time Out Blues

What is that noise I hear?

The kitchens timer tone rings clear

Suddenly freed I feel all better

Now that I'm released from my fetters

Now that I'm all through 

With the Time Out Blues.