Classy Mama

Now is the time to look back on the year that has been and start considering the new year to come.  Questions and doubts and fears may arise.

Thoughts such as, What exact life choices have I made that have led me to manically reheat my morning coffee eighteen times before I finish a full mug? Or, When is the last time I have peed at my own pace without being disturbed or answering someone's question by yelling through the door?  Or, a favorite of mine, How exactly did I end up eating leftovers huddled over the kitchen sink so that I didn't have to wash an extra plate?

Real classy stuff.

If any of these precious notions have entered your own brain, rest assured - you're in good company.

Too many times, multiple times throughout my day in fact, I find myself questioning how in the world I ended up in the life I'm living.  It's not a regrettable thought process.  I'm not droning on and on with complaints or groaning and grumbling (well, I have my moments).  But, I'm just amazed at how vastly different my day-to-day life looks compared to what I may have thought 5 or 10 years ago.

Parenthood is different for everyone, but if I've learned one thing in the last several years, it's this:  all parenting is HARD.  It's a ridiculous amount of work that is exhausting and rewarding and we are pressured into thinking that it is always, always, always worthwhile.  I mean, it is (right?) but knowing that we're raising the world's next difference-makers doesn't make the fact that they just hit their sister or are screaming Disney song tunes at the top of their lungs any easier to bear.

PARENTING IS HARD.  It require unreasonable patience, insurmountable compassion, and unattainable energy that no one can dare prepare you for.  The other day I was thinking how no one in the universe would become a parent if they truly knew what they were getting into.  And, then I realized what a perfect scheme plan God had in designing it that way.  God knows we will fully love, fully suffer, fully engage, fully dread, fully give give give to these little people that we fully took part in helping create...and it's an incredible, tangible way for God to REACH US as humans.

So many times (as I nibble my pizza leftovers into the sink) I feel like God is shoving opportunity in my face that I am frustratingly choosing to either take part in or step back from.  Matilda bursts into tears over Daphne taking her toy and I can a) Scream at Daphne and give Matilda her toy back b) Yell at them both to be quiet c) Put someone in time-out d) Throw the toy away e) take a deep breath, look my children in their eyes and explain the concept of sharing AGAIN and talk them through the reconciliation in a calm and civil manner.

Clearly E is the best choice.  If only life were a multiple choice test that I could willingly step back from and fill in the answer to in a quiet setting (never before did I long for such tranquility as sitting and taking an exam) then my children would have the mother I hoped to give them.  You with me???

But, life is not to simple.  Life is disastrous and loud and obnoxious and I fill it with more mistakes than I'd like to admit.  Sometimes I just want to eat my cold lunch in peace and AWAY from the critters that hang on me.  That's okay.  We all need a moment (lots of moments).

There's several habits I'd love to break in the new year (less TV, more dinners at the table, less frustration, more gratitude) but, most of all I just want to expose the fact that HEY - WE ARE TRYING and most of us are raising normal, wonderful children who are acting like blithering monsters half the time.  These are the difference-makers of tomorrow, and it's okay that their mom reheats her coffee yet again because she was busy cleaning cat vomit off the Christmas tree skirt.

As you ponder your resolutions for the new year, won't you join me in extending a little extra grace to yourself?  Part of being a parent is not being perfect.  Part of being a human is needing Jesus.  I have to remind myself of this constantly, and it helps me make it moment by moment.  These times are going to slip away quickly, I don't want to waste any time faking it as a mom.  Keeping it real is keeping it classy when it comes to parenthood.

Kids for Sale

It's been a trying week.  Work, school, and life in general are swirling about me in non-stop motion.  I told my husband late one night that I felt like I was sucking water from a fire hose underneath an avalanche.  My girls have also been annoyingly "sort of sick" throughout the week.  You know the kind - just sick enough to keep them out of play dates and church nursery, to keep them whining throughout the day and night, to keep them crabby and demanding...but not sick enough to get snuggles or have them slow down at all.  How is it that kids can run a slight fever and run around the house like maniacs all at the same time?

classic hug-turned-strangle situation

Don't get me wrong, of course I don't want my kids to be so sick that they can't play.  I'm glad that their sniffles don't slow them down and that they are generally healthy as caged zoo monkeys.  But, it is exhausting to be with them and trapped in the house day after day trying to not let "The Little Mermaid" songs drive you batty.

As I was folding a volcanic mountain of laundry last night, I realized that God probably infiltrated stay-at-home-motherhood with mundane tasks like that (or doing dishes, or picking up toys, or wiping noses) so that we could feel again and again I'm so good at this to make up for the rest of the day filled with the frustrating doubts and infuriating challenges of thinking I can't handle these kids! What am I doing?!

I might not enjoy folding laundry or doing dishes or generally cleaning up after my little tornadoes, but it does fill me with a sense of pride that I can actually accomplish something ridiculously well in the midst of such loud, incessant, irrational pandemonium.  When I can stack a pile of clothes perfectly straight (which, inevitably get knocked over within seconds of completion), I can take one second of pride in the fact that I'm overqualified for the chores that this job requires.

Then, in the midst of a knock-down-drag-out battle over who gets to buckle Minnie Mouse in the toy stroller, it helps me take a deep breath and remember that I really have NO idea what I'm doing, but I'm still going to be okay.  This is normal.  This is motherhood.  And as quickly as the brawling began, it will all be over and we will probably all be crying into bowls of ice cream at 9 in the morning.

grumpy is as grumpy does

Early in the week, when I could have sworn it was almost bedtime and then realized we hadn't even had lunch yet (tick, tock) I had to just pray pray pray for the fruit of the Spirit to get me through.  I love these little beings more than my own life, and yet there are times I'm ready to post them in the FREE section of craigslist.  As I was literally knocked over the head with a lego block, I clenched my fists and bit my tongue.  And, in that split second all I could think was HOW in the world does God not just smite us all off the face of the planet each and every day?!?

If blatant disobedience, irrational fighting, and incessant demands are all it takes for me to lose my cool (and that's putting it lightly) then I have no capacity for understanding the grace of God and how the heck He compassionately forgives my stupidity day after day, hour by hour.  I need to tap into that mercy.  I need to channel that kind of only-through-Jesus compassion.  I need the patience that surpasses all rationale to be able to be the parent my girls need.

The reality is, I'm going to lose my mind in front of my girls sometimes.  I lose my temper so often I'm thinking of getting a GPS tracker for it.  Praise be, that I live in a place and time where I don't have to parent these hooligans all alone, and I have the greatest resource available as a mother - a Holy Spirit who puts up with my nonsense and extends me ridiculous amounts of undeserved mercy to help me get through the day, and reminds me how priceless this season truly is.

Blemish

The other day, I was going about my usual routine of getting ready to go out.  For me (a total make-up fiend) this usually involves a quick moment to "put my face on" and face the public as if I'm well rested and give a care.  I gazed into the mirror, dabbing on moisturizer and smearing foundation, covering up the flaws and accentuating the positive so to speak.

Then, I noticed something on my forehead, a small blemish that I hadn't been aware of.  Yuck, what's that?  Ugh, breaking out again?  I rubbed my forehead, trying to figure out the best way to conceal the flaw, but nothing covered it up.  I looked closer, frustrated and confused as to why it didn't disappear under make-up.

Then, in that split-second, I realized that I didn't have a blemish on me at all - it was a speck of make-up on the mirror that had given the illusion something was on my face.  Relieved, I wiped the mirror and went on with my routine.

In that ridiculous moment, I thought how foolish I was to instantly assume something was wrong with me.  I don't have the best skin in the world, and so I immediately jumped to the conclusion that it was my face that was blemished, and I left no room for argument.  Then, my perspective changed.  And when I saw the blemish for what it really was, my perspective of myself changed too.

We can be so quick to find the flaws in ourselves.

If you're like me, I can be quick to be critical of myself.  Not just body image or skin quality - but, how I mother my children, how I love my husband, how I treat others, and how I manage my time.  I can quickly point out the flaws and things I'd like to change - that's the easy part!  But, am I seeing everything from the right perspective?  Am I able to step back and spot the blemishes that aren't really blemishes at all?

None of us see ourselves as others see us - and, chances are good that people think we look a lot better than we think we do.  I'm all for self-improvement - don't get me wrong - but, in  a world that constantly tries to tell us (especially as women and mothers) that we're not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, etc..... (the list is long, as you know!) sometimes it's okay to clean the filthy mirror and see who we really are:  beautiful daughters of the King, working hard, loving well, and striving to make a difference (even if that difference for the day means not burning the frozen waffles in the toaster that morning - hey, that counts!)

Go take a look at your gorgeous self - flaws and all - and please, do yourself a favor and clean that mirror!  You might just smile at what you see. (I hope you do!)

Content

We all know what a Table of Contents is, right?  That page at the beginning of a book that outlines the parts that make up the information given in the pages ahead.  It's the big, overarching themes that sum up the in-between parts that give you an idea of the whole before you have even had a chance to understand it all.

The Table of Contents of my life might look something like this:

• The wife who forgot about dinner
• The mother who hands her toddlers her iPhone 
• The writer who can't remember that one word
• The student who asks too many questions
• The overwhelmed human who needs rest
• The repentant prayer warrior who is reminded of her needs
• The healed sinner who found peace again

One of those things by itself wouldn't totally describe me, but together, they can give you an honest glimpse into the life that I live - and this would only cover maybe one normal day!  The content of our lives says a lot about who we are, a lot about who we think we are, and a lot about where our values and dependencies lie.

Am I content with the content of my life?

I heard something today at Bible Study that was perfectly put - today, there seems to be an "epidemic of discontent" among society.  I couldn't have said it better myself.  So many times, I'll hear or read or see moms (and not just moms, of course) who are either feeling guilty about the life they should be leading or feeling guilty about living they life they already are.  

How can we find contentment?

The word CONTENT is what is called a homograph.  It's two or more words that look alike but have  different meanings:

con-tent:  that which may be perceived in something

con-tent:  satisfied with what one is or has

Just because something looks to hold everything we might have always have wanted, doesn't mean that it represents everything that makes us whole.  Your Table of Contents might be perceived as everything that should make you content...but, instead, it could have a very different meaning. 

In other words, whenever I lack contentment in my life, it's time to examine the content.  

Where is Jesus in the midst of my toddler throwing noodles at me in the middle of lunch?  Where is Jesus when I want to cry into my pile of laundry?  Where is Jesus when I feel guilty about wanting to get out of the house by myself?  Where is Jesus when I'm taking my blessings for granted?

Jesus is the content for my contentment.

I have no hope to get it all right.  I have no hope for feeling like enough, especially when my focus is on myself.  But, pursuing Jesus and injecting Him into the CONTENT of my life will bridge the gap of my seeking and finding the contentment I'm in need of.

Contentment doesn't look like sitting still.  It doesn't look like a pond with no ripples.  In fact, the closer I get to Jesus and asking Him to reveal to me how I can inject more of HIM into my day, the more motivated I become to not seek anything else.  The more motivated I am to inspire others to do the same.  The more motivated I become to fulfill who I'm called to be for Him.  And, the more the content of my life resembles a content human resting in the assurance that I am trusting a God who knows what's better for me than I do.

If I'm going to let God be the author of my life, I'd better be willing to let Him start with the Table of Contents.

3D

Last week was rough.  If you couldn't tell from my gripe-a-licious post from last week, my girls were really putting me through the wringer.  At one point, when I was at my wit's end and tired and grumpy and far, far, far behind on laundry...my husband came home and I nearly collapsed at his feet in desperation for a quiet moment.  I said "What are you doing Friday night?" to which he replied, "I don't know, nothing?" and I quickly took a moment to lock down a babysitter for a date night.

We seriously needed a few hours away.  Somewhere between Valentine's day and Easter we had let the days slip by without a scheduled time to get OUT of the house and be alone together as a couple.  That's FAR too long for my preference, and so without further adieu I anchored down a date night with less than 48 hours notice.  Nothing planned.  No agenda.  All I had was a babysitter booked and a handsome husband on my arm.  Sounded good to me!

Friday night came, and I still had no idea what to do with the evening ahead.  Then I noticed that Jurassic Park was being re-released in 3D to celebrate its 20th Anniversary.  (Side note - How can this possibly be true?  TWENTY years?!  Am I the only one who still thinks of this as a film that used "new" technology and am still feeling cool when I quote it at the drop of a hat?  Okay, apparently I am.  Yikes, time flies.)

I LOVE(d) Jurassic Park.  I was 12 when it came out (crazy) and for some reason, my parents allowed me to go with my brother and sister and a good family friend to see it at the theater on opening night.  It is a defining movie-seeing-memory of mine, one filled with awe and wonder that I hold with much nostalgia to this day.  I can still remember sorting through Jelly Bellies (Is this jalepeno or apple?) in the dim light of the theater and feeling the hairs stand up on the back of my neck when I saw the dinosaurs for the first time in that classic, epic reveal.  Amazing!

I know I look frightened.
The flash was BRIGHT!

I remember that, oh-so-long-ago, my cousin and I got pretty obsessed with that movie.  I spent a week or so in Austin that summer, and it was playing at a dollar-discount theater not far away.  This was heaven to a couple of bored twelve-year-olds, and so we saw it multiple times that week.  Yes, it was just as awesome each and every time.  Good memories.

So, here I was, seeing it in the theater again, this time in 3D and with the love of my life.  I felt those giddy "tween" butterflies of being at the movies.  I reminisced about being young, and it was fun to be thrilled by little things again (Popcorn! A cute date! The big screen! 3D glasses! Epic soundtrack!)  My husband and I were like silly teenagers again, and it was a blast to relive this experience as an adult with him.  And, seeing the film in 3D was giving me a whole new perspective on a lot of things...not just dinosaurs.

Date nights can be a lot like 3D glasses.  I mean, yes, I was literally wearing 3D glasses, okay...but, go with me for a second on this.  Life goes and goes and goes and goes and doesn't stop.  You live and share life with your spouse day in and day out and you both so very often feel like "you have no idea how hard my day was".  Whew.  Truly, both of us really do know how hard the day was, but it is too often difficult in very different ways.  He has the pressure of provision, the traffic, the awkward co-worker or the late meeting.  I have the diaper changes, the incessant whining, the stress of keeping things clean, the constant lack of space or quiet.

Then, evening comes, the kids get put in bed, and it's easy to think for a moment that date nights just aren't worth it.  Often it will even cross my mind "Why waste the money?  We are fine right here.  The girls are asleep, we'll just watch tv and chill and that's basically the same thing as a date."  Right?  Are you with me on this?

And then...I actually just GET OUT and have a for real date and I'm instantly reminded of its importance.  Ahhhhhhhhh...can you hear that?  No?  Nothing?  Exxxxxactly.  Because there is no sound of children, and better yet, no possibility for the sound of children for the next few hours.  And as I look over at my husband, he becomes my DATE for the evening.  He's no longer the guy-who-takes-out-the-trash or the guy-who-forgot-to-buy-milk or the guy-who-helped-do-the-dishes or the guy-who-reads-the-best-bedtime-stories-to-our-girls.  Those are all fine and dandy parts of who he is...but, sometimes it's just good to relieve him of all those duties and become a silly tween with him and go giggle at dinosaur movies and steal a kiss between handfuls of popcorn.  Sometimes I need to just DATE my husband and get out of the rut that life keeps us in.

Don't get me wrong...I love that rut.  I chose it.  I adore it. I wouldn't change it for the life of me.  But, can we all just admit that there are times that we look around and think "Oh man, if I have to fold laundry, wash sippy cups, match up baby socks, relax vicariously through watching one more sitcom and fix chicken one more night I'm going to scream!" Yes.  Indeedy.  Rightio.  The mundane catches up to me and I'm only a hop, skip, and a jump from taking it all for granted.

It's always a wonder to me how a short evening away can set it all straight again.  Dinosaurs in 3D and a plate of hot tacos later, I'm coming home happy and already missing my crazy girls.  I'm feeling understood, more-connected to my husband, and blessed by time that nurtured the thing that started it all:  us.

Josh and I have a lot in common.  We like a lot of the same movies, books, shows, and activities.  We share in many things, and we wouldn't have it any other way.  It's a priority of ours to keep it that way, and it doesn't come without practice.  As our days get busier and our children more demanding (at least, they seem more demanding by the day!) it can be so easy to depart from our togetherness and simply harness what sanity we have left to keep for ourselves out of sheer survival.  But, we are so much stronger as a team.

Looking at my husband through those silly 3D glasses reminded me just how much a little perspective can give me.  It's not enough to just say "this will do" or settle for saving a few bucks or staying in night after night after night because I'm too tired to even pick out clothes to go on a date.  No!  I'm not going to win any medals for having gone the longest without a date night or "surviving" this phase of life.  I will, however, gladly accept the reward of a happy husband, a calm spirit, and a refreshed perspective to want to be with my girls and take on the challenge/joy of raising them (come mountains of laundry or valleys of dishes).

Seeing Jurassic Park in 3D was just a silly example that maybe I hadn't truly seen the whole picture the first time around.  It may have been scarier than I remember (seriously, God, were Raptors that frightening?!) but, it was all the more satisfying to see in all it's "digitally-remastered" glory.

Coming home after a night out with the hubs gave my life a little bit more clarity as well.  I needed a new lens to see my husband through.  I needed to actually leave the premises with him and stare him in the face and reconnect away from the chaos.  I'm not saying you'll necessarily magically wake up loving to wipe toddler noses or vacuum Cheerios for the third time that day (that might require a month away to Maui or something!)  But, I certainly took on the next day with more enthusiasm and gratitude.

Who knew 3D glasses would help bring all that into focus?  Get out there.  Date your man.

Readers:  What's your favorite date night?  How do you stay connected outside of the chaos of your home?

Spring Break

With the Easter bunnies back in hibernation until next year, and the allergy season in full bloom, it seems that people are rolling up their cuffs and trading in their sweaters for sunglasses in eager pursuit of one thing:  SPRING BREAK!  This week (or last, or next) it feels like everyone is traveling somewhere exciting, taking time off, or hunkering down for a cozy stay-cation of some sort.  Even the high school where my husband works has spring break this week, and while he doesn't get any extra time off (boo) the breezier ambiance does allow for him to enjoy a cup of coffee before hitting the traffic-filled freeway in the mornings - and hey, we'll take what we can get!

So, I decided to take my own initiative on the matter, and make use of my free morning and turn it into an indulgent outing for myself and my two young girls.  I made a list, and decided to turn my weekly shopping trip into as much of a "spring break" for myself as I could muster.  This might not seem like a big deal to many of you, but to those who feel the anchor of having very little "extra" money and have seen one-too-many toddler shows over the long weekend - you can attest to the importance one productive and happy outing can make to a mother's sanity.  And, as someone who gave up Target for an entire year in 2012, it still comes as a treat to me to load up my girlies into the giant red caboose-cart and take our time shopping the bullseye bargains.

It started out fine.  My goal was to hit up Target for a few necessities and then swing by Trader Joe's for some healthy-but-easily-prepared meals to accommodate my de-stressing week.  I had fed the girls a little breakfast, but only enough so that they would still be delightfully distracted by the treat of getting a little something at the Starbuck's inside Target.  I thought this plan was brilliant, topped off by the fact that I had been looking forward to a grande soy latte with sugar-free hazelnut since going to bed last night (it really is the little things, folks).

But, the girls were not exactly up for a calm little stroll around Target.  Daphne (who had woken up at 2:30am with a bad dream and finally just snuggled in bed all night next-to/on-top-of me) was already off her proverbial rocker.  She was cranky and absolutely determined to NOT be constrained by the harness in the red caboose-cart.  She did not want to be held.  She DID want to climb the shelves and re-stack the toys in the middle of the aisle.  She DID want to throw her Starbucks cookie at her sister.  And she DID want to let everyone within earshot know that her mother was torturing her by making sure she didn't wander off or ruin a display.

Has someone been feeding this girl steroid-covered-espresso-beans for breakfast?

I managed to (three times) wrestle her into the shopping cart so I could contain her long enough to keep her sister from pulling an entire 20-lb jug of cat litter on top of herself.  I felt like I was trying to keep hold of two wild and angry boars who were squealing and kicking their way through the store and someone had just blindfolded me and buttered my hands when I wasn't looking.  What!?!  What is going ON here!?  And WHERE did I put my latte down????

I bought a pair of ill-fitting neon yellow capris on impulse (already tied up with receipt-in-bag to return later after I tried them on at home, siiiigh) and convinced myself that going to Trader Joe's would surely redeem this trip.  I know, I know, I know...rookie mistake.  What was I thinking???

Fifteen minutes in, Daphne had already thrown my phone into the freezer bin and I found Matilda stacking bananas into her very own cart (they have child-size carts there - which is super cute, but makes for a rather traffic-jammed trip when you are steering one and keeping track of the other!)  I managed to escape with both children still alive, my pocket book weary from spontaneous purchases to appease their greedy whines.  I took a deep breath and found myself praying for extra grace on the way home as I literally threw handfuls of white cheddar popcorn at my children in the backseat as if I were feeding ducks that I visited on a regular basis.  Here!  Take it!  Be QUIET! And once again I walked the line of proud-to-have-survived and ashamed-of-my-behavior.

At this very moment, my babies are asleep.  They have finally crashed (in the same room, at the same time, no less!) and are napping, which is how I can complete a whole sentence without typing "get off of that" or "be careful" or "stop hitting her" mysteriously plopped in the middle of a thought.  It's quiet, and calm, and I'm finally taking whole sips of coffee that is still hot and hashing out the tremendously impossible and taxing morning that just happened.  (Can you hear that?  It's the sound of me, catching my breath.)

There is no spring break for mothers.  Maybe it was a fool's errand to think I could relax and turn a weekday chore into a pleasant escape.  Or maybe I still like the part of me that is determined to hold on to some ideals that reality continues to sever.  Nonetheless, I'm too tired to worry about it all that much. I spend too much energy on wavering between guilt and empowering myself and praying about it and then worrying some more about how it will all pan out.  I let my kids watch tv and I worry they'll be idiots because of my lack of teaching-them-something-new-non-stop.  I let my kids eat cookies for breakfast and I worry I've surely ruined their appeal for healthy options forever.  I let my girls pick out their own outfits and I worry someone else will say something to make them feel bad about themselves (let alone assume I've lost all capacity for matching patterns).

And then, you know what, I sigh and pray and let it all go.

Therein lies my true spring break.  I'm giving myself a freaking BREAK.  Yup, my 3 year old leaves out 5, 6, 7 when she counts to ten.  It's cool - she'll get it.  My 20-month-old is becoming more and more attached to her pacifier.  It's gonna be okay - I won't let her leave for college with it.  My kids threw FITS in the middle of a public shopping trip and a neighbor of mine caught me yelling at my naughty child in a moment of utter frustration.  Yup!  It's gonna happen, people!

My spring break isn't going to include ski resorts or flip flops or even relaxing with a magazine on a sunny day.  It's going to be about this moment right here - where I thank Jesus for reminding me that the best things in life are not free - they are just paid for by someone else.

Thank you, Jesus, for loving ridiculous, imperfect, yells-at-her-defiant-children, drinks-Diet-Coke-before-noon, has-three-day-old-clean-basket-of-laundry-yet-to-be-folded, should-be-doing-the-dishes-right-now, looking-at-popcorn-and-cereal-on-my-carpet-waiting-to-be-vacuumed, probably-needs-to-reapply-deodorant ME.  The great big, hot mess that I am, trying to survive and make proper civilians out of these silly little spunky monkey girls that I've brought into this world.  Lord, have mercy and sanity on us!  Give us the grace and space that we need to keep some gratitude in our day.

Mother's don't get spring breaks.  So, give yourself one.  Jesus has already won the battle for the stupid things we will do.  He's already forgiven me for how I will next frustratingly-snap at my daughter or my lack of focus when I choose my iPhone over engaging with whatever new dance move my daughter is trying to show me.  I'm going to fail, again and again.  And, it's all going to be okay.  It doesn't mean I give up, or let down my guard, or even let go of those ideals.  Far from it!  Instead, I'm breaking away from the cycle of failure leading to discouragement leading to further disappointment and instead, prayerfully embracing the option of total forgiveness (constant and never ceasing) and forging ahead.

Spring break takes on a whole new meaning as a full-time mom.  I wonder what spring cleaning will have in store?

How about YOU?  What "BREAK" are you going to give yourself this week?  How is God showing you balance in the chaos of your day?

Meat & Potatoes

The other day, I was at a crossroads.  Perhaps you've been there before.  It was early afternoon and I was just beginning to think about that age old (yet, daily) question:  What's for dinner?  The pickings were slim.  I didn't want to order in (scratch that, I did want to order in, but we really couldn't afford it and I knew I shouldn't cop out of dinner-making one more time that week) and I definitely did not want to load up the girls in the car, unload them, scream and cry our way through a trip around the grocery store, and have to come all the way back home to start cooking.  Ugh, that sounded terrible to me.

So, I faced my cupboards and my fears and decided with all my might to figure out something that could be constructed into an edible excuse for supper.  I sighed as I sifted through my barren pantry, finding a can of this or that.  I yanked out my last pound of meat at the back of the freezer (ground turkey!) and found some frozen peas next to it.  I dug around the bins of my fridge and discovered leftover potatoes that hadn't rotted through yet.  I know, this sounds scary to most of you, but I was so determined to scrape by until payday that I had really let our kitchen become quite meager.  Still, I knew I could pull something together.  Something.

As I surfed the Internet for ideas, it suddenly struck me.  Maybe it was the crisp new chill in the air, but suddenly the need for comfort food hit my belly and mashed potatoes crossed my brain.  Aha - that was it - Shepherd's Pie!  For those of you who may not know, Shepherd's Pie is a sort of an old "peasant" kind of dish, meant for recycling leftovers for people who don't have access to the first round of good food.  It's a layered dish of meat and vegetables topped with mashed potatoes.  Generally, around here anyway, you see it with ground beef, carrots, corn, and peas.  The topping of buttery mashed potatoes is really its selling point, let's be honest here.

Voila!  Shepherd's Pie it was, and as the weather got chillier and our tummies grew hungrier, the better and better it was smelling.  Sure enough, by the time we ate, it was super delicious.  Yay - a hit!  And I was mighty proud that I had scavenged our cabinets and turned our humble means into something quite delectable.  (Great recipe here for those of you wondering!)

It wasn't until hours afterward, with my hunger and dignity satisfied, that it occurred to me what an analogy my day had become.  As I tucked my girls into bed for the night, exhausted from another haphazardly wonder-filled day, it struck me how motherhood is like that silly Shepherd's Pie.

In the day-to-day events, motherhood is such a mess.  It really is.  I must look at the clock about 13 times a day, and I have no idea why except for the fact that it helps confirm one thing to me:  this too shall pass.  I love motherhood.  Sincerely!  I cherish these precious girlies the Lord has blessed me with.  I want nothing more than to be with them, nurture them, engage with them, help guide them.  But, boy oh boy can they press my buttons!  Whew!

The hour-by-hour focus that two little toddlers requires of me is astounding.  At their best, they are talking non-stop, running around, climbing, throwing food or clothes, or trying to leap from furniture.  And at their worst, well, let's just say I've had to clean Play-Doh out of carpets, crayons off of walls, get glue and honey and paint and applesauce out of hair, and keep them from strangling each other with dress up clothes or jewelry.  It's crazy business, let me tell you!  In fact, just today it crossed my mind that, "Hey, God, if even EVE couldn't keep her kids from killing each other, how do you expect me to?!?"  Sometimes I wonder.

The everyday mischief is just like those peas and carrots.  It's just like that freezer burned ground meat or those nearly rotten potatoes.  You line it all up and it looks like nothing but a heap of garbage.  What a mess.

But, you're looking at it all wrong.  There's more to it then that.  (Hold on, I'm gonna go all Karate Kid on you here!)  How many times has an older mother passed by you and your youngins in public and looked at you sweetly, maybe even stopped and said something like "Oh, how wonderful, I remember those days!  Cherish them!"?  Do you think she is remembering the rotten potatoes?  Heavens, no.  She's smelling the Shepherd's Pie.

All these days, these terribly exhausting days of trouble, they are all adding up into a terrific era of our lives.  I just know it.  I can't quite see it, at least, not while I'm in the middle of it and just want to strap my toddler to her highchair so I can please just fold this basket of laundry that's been sitting in my living room for a week!  Please!?  But, I know it's true.

Some days, when the dust settles long enough for the sunlight to beam in just right and my girls are smiling and my brain hits pause just long enough to capture a moment in time that looks better than any Instagram filter ever could...I get a glimpse of the big picture.  I can very nearly imagine myself an old woman trying to recall this very moment.  I can almost smell the memory of the present, though it is happening right in front of me, as if it were decades ago and I'm longing for the sweet innocence of not knowing their futures.  I blink, and their older.  I blink, and I forget it all.  I blink, and suddenly I am back in the throws of the day and just struggling to survive once more.  Peas and carrots, again.

This daily struggle matters.  This mess that we're trying to make sense of, it will make sense before we know it, and all too soon we will be smacking our lips wondering why we ever thought it seemed so terrible.  We don't have to wait until then to believe it will be satisfying.  Take hold of it right now, dig right it, get messy and creative and believe in what you are doing, because before its all over you will want to know that this was part of what makes it great.

You're in the thick of it, mamas.  This is real meat and potatoes kind of life stuff.  Keep up the good work, and savor every second.

Tone

About 4 seconds.

That's how long I think it takes after my husband walks through the door to know what kind of evening we're about to have.  And it has almost nothing to do with him.

How I choose to react in those first four seconds almost always dictates the tone for the rest of the night.  It's almost like a wife-super-power, frightening and amazing all at once, but I really think it's true.  

My husband doesn't have an easy job.  He works hard all day, and regardless of whether his day has been frustrating, successful, busy or boring, he is always always always glad to be home.  I love that about him.  He would always choose to hang out with us (no matter how manic) than have to stay late and put extra hours in at work, though sometimes that is necessary.  But, when he walks through that door, no matter how his previous 8 hours have been...it really seems to be me that holds the power to sway the tone of the house...and I would go out on a limb here and say that's probably true for many, many wives out there. 

my little werewolf

I call the hours from 3-5pm before daddy gets home the "witching hour".  There might as well be a full moon out at that time, because my two little daughters turn into werewolves, complete with fangs, red eyes, and sometimes even foaming at the mouth.  Okay, maybe they don't have claws the size of Texas (most nights) but they certainly go all Jekyll-and-Hyde on me and suddenly lose the ability to control their emotions and actions.  

No matter how sweet or pleasant our day has been, those last couple hours just seem to totally unravel.  I lose the ability to form complete sentences, my toddler can't help but tackle and lay on her sister, and my baby becomes inconsolable.  They try climbing the shelves, the walls, the fireplace mantel.  They won't watch a show or color in their books.  They might chase the cat, until they pin him down into a desperate headlock, but he eventually takes haven under the bed.  No matter what, we all just seem to lose our minds.

This is not a pretty picture to come home to.  If I was my husband, I would probably request to work late most nights of the week.  Haha.  Or, I would highly start to question the sanity of my care taking ability and maybe suggest we hire extra help...or put the girls on Ritalin or something.  Crazyville.  

All that to say, when he comes home and finds me shaking in frustration or downing another cup of coffee while my eye is twitching from the chaos, it's a lot to take in.  But, in those first four seconds, everything can change.

Somedays, I'll admit, I hand him the baby and grab the mail key and say "see you 5 min!" and walk out the door to get the mail, and in reality I truly just need some fresh air and a quiet second to control my brain.  Whew.  Or, maybe I'll snap at him the second he walks in.  (Sounding familiar to anyone else?)  You know - the whole Do you even KNOW what kind of day I have had with these crazy critters!? while he is left wondering if he did something wrong or whether he should even answer me and, oh yeah - three hours later I finally get around to asking him how his day was?  Whoops.

But, it doesn't have to be that way.  I have a choice in the matter here.  And I truly think that a good four seconds is pretty much all it takes.  Four seconds to stand up, smile, shout "Yay! Daddy's home!" and actually stop what I'm doing to kiss him on the mouth and say "How was your day?" and sincerely mean it and listen to what he says.

We have all evening.  I have the rest of the night to dictate to him all of the chaos that the previous hours may have held.  He knows how insane/naughty/debilitatingly-loud our girls can be, so he truly does understand that my day has been hard.  EVERY DAY is hard for mothers (in one way or another). 

Not only can those first four seconds help usher us into an evening of peacefulness, but literally the actual tone I use to speak to him in those first moments seem to determine the mood of our children as well.  This one goes both ways, really.  Meaning, how we converse with each other (even about outside subjects) makes a difference.  It's something we learned early on in parenthood when we would get home from work and vent about our days.  If we spoke with harsh, loud, moody ups and downs, our girls would stare at us and scowl, as if to say "Why are you mad at each other?" when we actually weren't!  

Trust me, there's some serious crazy
behind those beautiful, blue eyes

Now, we save those vent-sessions for after they're in bed, or else we will pleasantly fake our tone in a creepy sing-songy polite way while actually telling each other how manically frustrating something might have been.  It matters!  It might sound ridiculously silly, but it's better than having our little ones thinking we are mad at each other when really we are just getting fired up about an issue outside of our little world.  

Tone matters.  We've heard it a million times - "It's not what she said, it's the way she said it" and so on.  And the same thing goes for your kids.  What they hear, how you talk to your spouse, the way you say things...it all comes across loud and clear to them one way or another.  

It's not easy for me to always stop what I'm doing when Josh walks in the door from work.  I don't necessarily feel like taking a deep breath or listening to stories about the outside world or even smiling - even though I am always super glad he is home and very thankful for someone to help care for our crazy girls!  

But, I can tell you that I've never regretted rising above my own needs in those first moments when he comes home.  I've never thought "You know, I really should have laid into him for being gone working hard all day and told him how it got all crazy around here and I'm doing a terrific job just keeping everyone alive!"  No.  Sometimes I do need to vent, sometimes I do need a hug, sometimes I do need to tell him exactly what I need so that he can specifically help me more effectively...but, not in those first four seconds.

You've probably heard or read the following two Proverbs at sometime in your life:

Proverbs 21:9  Better to live on a corner of the roof than share a house with a quarrelsome wife.

Proverbs 21:19  Better to live in a desert than with a quarrelsome and nagging wife.

Yikes.  I don't want my husband to want to live on the corner of a roof or a desert!  I want him to want to still come home at the end of a long hard day of work!  And let's be honest, it's almost never even "about him" when we greet him at the door with a snappy tone or a furrowed brow.  

I've had to have a "heart check" here with the Holy Spirit and make sure that when my hero walks in at the end of the day I am greeting him with the thankful and peaceful heart I know he desires to encounter.  I'm so grateful that he works hard so that I get to stay home, so that we can eat, so that we can live and I don't want him ever feeling taken for granted.  I also really want my girls to see just how much I enjoy being with their daddy and for them to appreciate those first seconds when he arrives home.

God is amazing how He provides for us (the work, food, clothing, shelter) just enough, every day.  Doesn't He also provide us enough grace and patience to extend a loving hello to our spouse?  

Yes.  

1...2...3...4

Go!

Greet your spouse with a kiss and a hug at the door tonight.  Maybe you won't have dinner on the table, maybe you will still have laundry or vacuuming, maybe your kids will be screaming and wrestling at that very moment...but, trust me, everything will be okay and I guarantee it will usher in a whole new happiness for the rest of the night.  It must be better to live inside the house with a happy and encouraging wife, than on a corner of a roof or in the desert all alone!  How about that?

Time-Out!

I hardly ever advocate for a specific "cause" on here.  I don't have any ads and I don't want people to ever get the impression that I use this site (right or wrong) for any sort of kick-back or particular gain.  I'm just me, airing out my thoughts, emotions, and any words that seem to flow from God through the tips of my fingers.

In time-out.

But, when something personal strikes me to my core and I'm stunned by the fact that maybe hardly anyone else out there might know about it - I can't not share it.

Perhaps you remember way way back a couple years ago when my husband took a trip to Haiti after the earthquake in 2010.  You can read about it here, here, and here.  I urge you to.

Since then, my friend Kelly has been in the process of adopting a sweet girl named Lovencia who is currently still residing at the orphanage in Port Au Prince.  She is doing well and we are all praying her home to Chattanooga to be with Kelly as quickly as possible.

 Kelly is in Haiti right now.  THIS VERY MOMENT!  It is always crazy to me when I think of her there, hot and tired and loving on hot and tired people...all sweaty with their crazy language bouncing around trying to communicate with each other their fears and their gratitude and their emotions of all kinds.  She amazes me and I am so blessed to call her one of my dearest friends.

I'll cut to the chase.

Today sucked.  For me, I mean.  It was one of those awful, horrible, no good, very bad days that just started out all wrong from the get-go.  Josh lost his debit card, I couldn't find the remote, the baby woke up early, I spilled coffee, etc.

And it only escalated from there.  A toy in the potty, poop out of the potty, a disastrous nap time that led to the baby screaming inconsolably and a toddler who only slept for twenty minutes.  It seemed that everything I did led to someone throwing a fit or yelling at me.  I was really losing my cool and surviving on a spoonful of cookie dough and a caffeine high to keep me going.  This was not my finest moment.

Then I check Facebook.  I need a glimmer of escape, so I pull up Facebook on my phone to see if I can vicariously live through someone else's day - maybe dream about grabbing frozen yogurt or perhaps someone Instagrammed a photo from the beach?  That's when I saw the following post from Kelly.  Her latest update from Haiti.  Mind you, you won't know all the people she mentions...but read it anyway.  You'll understand all you need to know:

It's an old pic, but I love it.
Kelly's spirit shining through.

Today, a beautiful and caring and grieving woman came to give her child to the orphanage. She was so tender and so full of grief. Within the past year she has lost her parents and her husband and today, her child.

I hid in the office for a couple of hours and told Angie I just couldn't bring myself to engage her relationally just to see her have to leave. Angie didn't try to fix me, she just qu

ietly let me put my head on her shoulder as my soul wrestled and she said, "I know...."

I needed her to just be quiet and let me wrestle. She loved me well and her empathy toward me reminded me of the truth.

I bit into a lie that made me feel powerless. A lie that said risking my heart to love her was not worth it because I knew my limited time with her could solve nothing. I knew she would leave at some point today and I'd never see her again. When I realized how I was guarding my own heart and how I was believing that a small act of kindness was worthless in the face of her plight, I got up.

Jahreece did too and we went out front to ask her if we could go buy her an ice cold soda. As we walked we wondered out loud how much love has been withheld from her in her journey, or in the lives of any hurting person, because of the lie that the simplicity of love does not count in the face of grief.

We returned a few minutes later and gave it to her. We sat beside her and tried to make conversation. She laughed at my terrible Creole as Fifi forced me to say everything in Creole and Fifi taught me new things. And then we took the glass 7up bottle and blew into it to makes sounds and we all laughed together.

That didn't solve anything. And the truth is, we are not asked to solve people like a math problem. (thank God cause I suck at math anyway).

Rather, we are asked to sit with them, hold their hand, laugh with them, to give them our love and to receive their love. Simply, to be there WITH them. Not to condescendingly put on our capes and be there FOR them in order that we make ourselves feel better and nervously let that definitive outcome defend the goodness of God to our broken hearts.

Love hopes all things. And my love for her hopes for dramatic rescue in her life. But today, rescue may have been finding a way to laugh on such a horrible day.

Today, she rescued me from believing the lie that small acts filled with love and that the simplicity of presence are worthless. She reminded me that choosing to love is always better than protecting myself from grief.

Love always wins and I truly believe God is good even when I can't see the outcomes.

My eyes welled up with shame and sadness and utter love for my girls.  Lord have mercy, Christ forgive me for my selfish thoughts.  God, change my heart and give me patience to be able to see all I have right now, the whole beautiful mess of it.  My girls are screaming their brains out - but, they are MY GIRLS...here, with me, healthy and safe.  

I took my girls in my arms right then.  I told them I loved them and kissed them hard.  I thanked God for His compassion and prayed for that mother and that baby and Kelly and all the children in Haiti.  It wasn't enough - but, my God is enough and that was just the reminder I needed right in that very moment.  What a rescue, indeed.

Please pray for Kelly and all of the nannies and babies at the orphanage in Haiti.  Please stop what you are doing and pray for your own babies and thank God for them.  Please join me in letting out a collective sigh when you come to the realization that we have nothing to complain about.  It's a lot to swallow, but it is the truth.  

Getting slapped in the face with a Facebook update like that (no pun intended) didn't make my day any easier.  I mean, it didn't shut my babies' mouths or make them obey me any more or calm their spirits or lessen the volume of chaos in any way.  But, it shook me to my soul.  I had to stop in my tracks and ask forgiveness.  I had been dishing up time-outs all day long to my toddler, and here I was in total need of one myself.  

Take a time-out if you need one.  Take a deep breath.  Take a moment to be humbled.

And, if you can, I urge you to consider giving to this amazing organization.  I know these people.  Not only are they amazing and legit and love God...but they will use every single penny to pass on to the people who need it and change lives (we're talking about things like eye surgeries, new roofs, seriously tangible miracles here).  

Skip the latte today and send $5 to The Oak Project and select the OASIS FUND...or any of the ministries they have listed on the donation page.  

You might not change the course of your day...but, you just might change someone else's life.

Toddlers Are Like College Students

With all the "Back to School" commercials I see on TV these days, it makes me all jittery and nervous with that excitement and nostalgia flooding my mind as I think back to my own school days.  It's been a long time since I've been in school and my own kids have a few years to go (thank goodness!) but, it still makes me tense when I see all those ads for pencils and notebooks and new Reebok Hightops with the velcro (okay, maybe there aren't commercials for those anymore, but ever since that style has had a resurgence in fashion, it makes me miss my grade school days!)

I started having flash backs of my school days through the years:  the boisterous elementary years, the awkward and torturous junior high days, the long and full-of-attitude-and-angst (thanks 90s music) hours of high school that seemed to tick by ever-so-slowly, followed by the happy-go-lucky days of college...footloose and fancy free, indeed.

Even though you know that those times were filled with impossible drama and heightened emotions, as a grown up now days, you can't help but look back with a bit of wonder and joy at your own naiveté.  "Oh, it's funny how I thought I had actual problems back then!"   We always associate these things with adolescence...this sense of our "small planet" being all there is that just escalates and grows until we finally burst into the "real world" and have to get a job or have a baby or say vows to someone we would die for.

But, I don't think it starts in adolescence...I think it starts right after we are born!  And, the more I thought about this, the more I realized more and more how similar my two-year-old, Matilda, is to being just like those ripe-minded twenty-somethings daring to take on the world one foolish/brave notion at a time!  (Don't get me wrong, I love a dreamer - I grasp and grasp to hang on to my ideals with all I can!)  So, here, I've concluded a list for you to chuckle over; a "back to school" analogy for parenthood...

Why Toddlers Are Like College Students

1. They think they know everything.
2. They are sure you think you know everything, but are also very confident that you actually don't.
3. They expect you to feed them whenever they are hungry.
4. They have no money.
5. They want to wear pajamas all day.
6. It's perfectly acceptable for them to wear pajamas all day.
7. They believe toast is a meal.
8. They never make their bed.
9. They expect you to do their laundry for them. 
10. They like all cereal, but somehow it always ends up on the carpet. 
11. They can relate to every television show they watch.
12. No matter what you say to them, they probably disagree with you.
13. They aren't afraid to tell you how they really feel.
14. Their music is loud and annoying, but too catchy to ignore.
15. You wish you could get away with wearing the shoes they wear cause they're just so cute.
16. A backpack is a perfect accessory for any outfit.
17. They hate reading but they hate lectures even more.
18. They would stay up and play till the wee hours of the morning if they could.
19. They can never get enough Disneyland.
20. They are always overtired, but never want to go to bed.
21. They can talk for hours and you still might not understand what they're trying to tell you.
22. They think the world's biggest problem has something to do with bad guys that look like Ja'far.
23. They expect and want you to tell them what to do when they really need you.
24. They really need you when the toy they want costs more than your rent.
25. They make headbands look cool.
26. They believe a couch is just as good as a bed.
27. They are only as nice as their last nap was. 
28. A road trip always sounds fun to them until they are trapped in the car.
29. They cry when things don't go their way.
30. They cry when things totally go their way.
31. It's really hard to sit through church without playing on the iPhone.
32. They think milk goes great with every meal.
33. They love to experiment with new hairstyles.
34. Just because they wore the same outfit yesterday is no reason to change clothes.
35. They remember every inappropriate thing you say. 
36. They laugh at their own jokes, even if you don't.
37. Friendship means you share dress-up clothes.
38. They think libraries are basically only for social get-togethers. 
39. They believe adventure and new discovery could take place anywhere, anytime.
40. They expect to see every place on the planet that they want to see.
41. Someone smiling at them can truly change their day.
42. They want to play house but not commit to anything just yet.
43. They want to make friends with everybody.
44. They want to be the loudest person in the room.
45. They can see right through people who don't believe in them.
46. They always want a snack, even if they just had one.
47. The floor surrounding their toilet is always disgustingly filthy.
48. Their room can never be dark enough.
49. They feel loved when we buy them stuff, even little stuff.
50. When they pray, they talk to Jesus like He is sitting right in front of them. 

Kids.

You gotta love em.  

Happy new school year, everybody!

Escape Plan (part two)

Read Aftershocks (part one) here!

 It's been an unusually frustrating couple of weeks.  Who knows if it is the heat, the potty training, or just good ole hormones giving me a short wick...but, I have found myself a little overwhelmed with the minutes and hours and days of staying home lately.  To be honest, I've disappointed myself.  I'll find myself wanting to scream into a pillow or eat an entire bag of Oreos or want to stroll an extra half an hour in the grocery store simply because both girls are strapped into compartments where they can't kill each other for one freaking second! (Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths.)

It isn't what you think, I promise!

I hear they call this Stay-at-home-mom-syndrome (SAHMS) and I've heard about it going around.  Is it too much to ask for not to have my two-year-old scream at me, bark demands, or whine in that insanely irritating high pitched voice for just an entire single day?  Was I way off base imagining a motherhood that might allow for 24 hours to pass without yelling the words "Leave your sister ALONE" in such a threatening tone that my neighbors think they live next door to Voldemort?  Am I crazy to think that two little girls can't just live in harmony or at least be able to play quietly for just one afternoon????

Yes.  Yes, I am crazy.  If there is any certainty left in my life anymore, that is it.  I've gone crazy.  But, I know I'm not alone.  (Can I get an AMEN?  Are you out there?  Do you hear me?  Can you RELATE AT ALL????)

So, what are we to do?  How do we keep this up when we are faced with new and different challenges every day?  When we are pushed to our limits and still have dinner to make?  When we still want to be happy and teach our children how to be civil, intelligent, kind beings?  When we hope our husbands still find us desirable after they crunch their way through our un-vaccuumed floor, kiss our greasy faces, and ask us if we remembered to iron the shirt he needs tomorrow (we didn't)?

After all the Aftershocks that life throws our way, it is obvious that an Escape Plan is necessary to not only our survival...but the survival of our dreams as well.  Long live the dream of the Stay At Home Mother!  Here's what I've come up with for myself and the earthquakes in my life:

The Escape Plan

Safe Spots:  Every earthquake escape plan starts with determining the "safe spots" in your house.  Motherhood is no different.  Mama's got to know her safe spots.  

This starts with some serious boundaries.  If I know my kids need to get outside, need to see friends, need to go to the park...I got to do it.  I need to reach out.  Call a friend.  Go to the mall.  Something!  Get OUT of the house, and usually within 10 minutes of strolling around and just getting out the door and into to some fresh air (or air conditioning) it will seem like a whole new day.  

On the other hand - if we have been invited to someone's house, party, park, playdate, class, etc. and I just know that Daphne needs a nap or that Matilda will throw an enormous fit or that the entire course of our day will be a complete loss if we go to said event...I need to say "No thank you" and kindly decline, cancel, or reschedule.  Repeat after me:  "No thank you.  Today just doesn't work for us, but I'm so thankful you understand."  And frankly, if they are a friend worth keeping, they will understand.  Keep your sanity safe.  Protect your time and energy.  Find your safe spot for the minute/hour/day and do your best to cling to it in the best interest of your family.

Practice Drills:  I can't expect to get good at something I want to be better at unless I try and try again.  It is very hard to not just "react" when a two-year-old screams disobediently in your face for the millionth time that day.  With all the years of wisdom I have over her, you'd think it wouldn't be my first thought to just yell back in her face...but, natural response, laziness, and convenience are all too easy to fall back on when you are exhausted and overwhelmed.  I know if I yell across the room "That's it!  Go sit in the corner!" I might get the response I want...but, the over all lesson has been undermined by my lack of patience.  I need to get off my keister.  I need to walk over to her and look her in the eye.  I need to explain to her what she did was wrong and why and how she should change her actions.  

This is a very WWJD moment in parenting, and it will never get easier.  It will always be in my natural, convenience-driven-human-nature to want to take short-cuts and just have the ends justify the means.  But, then, is that why I'm parenting???  Just to churn out some cute, smart kids who might make me feel good some days?

No.  I want them to see Jesus ooze out of my pores to them each and every day.  I want to look at them and see opportunity and potential just waiting to be nurtured (by me!)  I want my initial response to their misbehavior to become merciful, grace-centered, and compassionate...even if it leads to firm, authoritative punishments being handed out.  That takes some serious practice.  

I'm not going to get this right overnight.  But, I can't let my frustrations with myself build up and then explode at the next moment of disobedience.  That's not fair to either of us.  I need new habits that all center around "more Jesus and less Emily", essentially.  

And it's okay to stop for a few minutes each day and remember some truths to help motivate these new habits:

1. This season will pass.  There will be a time all too soon when you will look back and wish they were this small, this ornery, or this needy.  
2. You are not promised tomorrow.  If today was the last day you saw your babies, how much more would you love on them and thank God for them?
3. You love your job.  This is what you have been called to do.  Not someone else.  Not somewhere else.  Not sometime else.  You.  Here.  Now.  You were meant for this.
4. Kiss them more.  You just can't stay mad at someone who is simply so kissable.  (This one works on husbands too, btw.)

Exit Route:  Know when you need a break.  I'm always astonished at how much difference even fifteen minutes of alone time can make.  Sometimes, right after my husband comes home, I will offer to go get the mail.  No matter what, even if I was having an okay day, I feel fresher, nicer, and more relaxed after just walking the 50 feet to the mailbox and back by myself.  

It can seem trivial, selfish, or even futile to schedule "alone time" as mothers.  It feels like asking for extra vacation time from a boss that already bent over backwards to give you a raise.  But, you know what the huge difference is - mothers don't get vacations.  Never.  You would be furious if your husband came home from work one day and announced that his boss just took away all his vacation time because he thought he didn't need it, right??? (I would be!)  So, why do we feel so awkward asking our friend or neighbor or husband to watch the kids on a Saturday morning so we can go get our nails done?  

Do it.  Get something on the calendar for yourself.  And, if you have had a horrendous day with the kiddos and your husband comes home in a good mood with enough energy to make macaroni and cheese...please, be honest with him about your expectations, limitations, and motivations for needing to exit the premises for a while.  Everyone will survive, trust me. And don't come home (I mean, be reasonable, obviously) until you can enter with joy, gratitude, and a new appreciation for being missed.

Survival Kit:  The final component to my personal Escape Plan is to prepare a survival kit.  You must be armed with accessible aid at all times.  Set yourself up for a successful day, in other words.  Have friends to call when you need them, and vent if you must!  Stash a candy bar marked "Emergency Reward Only" in the back of your cupboard.  Tape a new verse to your mirror that you will see every morning.  Set a reminder on your iPhone to read your Bible (and actually do it). 

Sometimes "playing robot" kills two birds with one stone

Planning activities for the day with your children can help to.  When I don't know what I'm going to do that day, attitudes always go awry.  But, if I can come up with some kind of idea at-the-ready, then we have something to spend time on, a goal to work toward, and something other than burning minutes to focus on.  Steal a page out of Mary Poppin's book and make a game of it if you must.  If I can even plan something as simple as "Make cookies for Bible Study" or "Do the dishes" or "Make the bed" and turn it into the afternoon event, then I accomplish multiple things at once and might even giggle a little bit along the way!  

Mary Poppins wasn't always so smiley because of how delightful the children were (though, let's admit, the British accent didn't hurt), she was probably perpetually cheerful because she had magic to clean up after her at the end of an exhausting day!  But, she had it right when it came to this - and I can absolutely attest to the fact that singing, games, and a little creativity turn the most mundane tasks into an afternoon of fun if you can gear yourself up for it.  (After all, what else is Pinterest good for if not creative ways to build forts out of laundry piles or teaching our kids how to spell their name in frosting???)

Motherhood is hard.  We are awesome for choosing it.  Every.  Day.  

Little growing humans are not easy to please and even harder to guide.  They strip us of energy but fill us up with pride all in the same moment.  They are little walking paradoxes, constantly challenging our efforts to want to get past the day and hang onto it forever all at the same time.  

Maybe, if we can just focus on the gift that motherhood offers us, on the grand opportunity that it is to be able to participate in the actual shaping of a person's life, with a little help and a lot of prayer, we can start to appreciate all that parenting is.  I don't know if we can ever truly grasp the impact our kids have on us.  At times it seems too overwhelming to think about, and at others it just feel like I'm so unworthy of the experience.  

The truth is, bottom line, I wouldn't change what I do for anything.  I feel blessed beyond words to get to stay home and be the one who is getting maddened and going crazy with these girlies every day.  I wouldn't have it any other way, and I never want to take that for granted.  I never want to actually escape this life that I've been given, I would labor through it all again in a heartbeat if I had to.  But maybe, with a little planning, I can set myself up for the chance to step back and see it for what it is:  the beautiful, mischievous, noisy, sweet, chaotic and crazy-to-the-brim-filled life that it is.  

Aftershocks (part one)

The other night, while we were just turning in for the night, I suddenly felt something shaking the bed.  I turn to Josh, as he was just sitting on the edge of the bed and ask "Are you doing that?" to which he all-too-calmly replied "Nope, that's an earthquake."

a lie detector? a heartbeat? Nope.  earthquake.

We swayed one second longer, as his nonchalant words reached my brain for comprehension.  EARTHQUAKE!  And then it was over.  Having lived in Southern California for years now, this was not my first quake.  But, having moved here from the part of the country where "earthquake" might as well be code for "about to fall into the ocean", it has never settled well with me (no pun intended) to be okay with a bit of a shake-a-roo now and again.  No thank you.

It would be one thing if it was left at that midnight shake...but, those tectonic plates just couldn't leave well enough alone, and it was followed by 3 more quakes within the following 12 hours.  Good gracious earth!  Get a hold of yourself!

I grew up in tornado country.  Land of Oz, yellow brick roads, munchkins, and sure - all the "Auntie Em from Kansas" jokes you could muster.  Now, don't get me wrong in my preference for tornados, they are diabolically catastrophic and terrifying.  I've seen more than my share in real life, and there is really nothing scarier for a kid than witnessing a black wall of debris tearing through your neighbor's farm only a few miles away.

But, if I had to choose (and this is particularly silly since obviously I would rather neither existed at all) I gotta say that tornados got something on earthquakes that just makes it all a no-brainer to me:  WARNING.

Sure, I suppose you could argue that us silly Californians live and breathe in an ongoing state of warning.  That, if feeling the earth move under your feet (and I'm not talking Carol King) isn't enough for you to wanna ditch Tinseltown, then by all means you are really asking for it and might as well count your blessings until The Big One sends us floating off towards Hawaii.  Fine.  But, let's be realistic.

this pic i found was just too cool not to include!

With earthquakes, there is just no warning.  No thunderstorms.  No eerie green clouds.  No hazy calm.  No hail the size of chihuahuas.  No tree-bark-stripping winds.  No louder-than-a-freight-train force.  It just happens.  A jolt.  A sway.  A shake.  A rattling, rumbling, roll that takes you a second to realize you might be in the presence of danger.  And then it's over (usually).

I'm so grateful to live in a time and place that is more or less prepared for natural occurrences like earthquakes.  I'd be remiss not to take a second and mention how it certainly makes me stop and pray for those around the world who have suffered through so much loss due to such an event...so, yes, please, take a moment and do that.  But, that's not where I'm headed with this post.

This particular series of shakes brought something else to my attention.  Warning signs.  Or, lack thereof, really.

Parenting is full of earthquakes.  It's full of tornadoes, too, no doubt.  Sometimes you can see problems before they really start...intervening just in time to avoid tragedy or further chaos.  But, lots of times, most times, you simply never see it coming.

tuckered out from a tantrum

It's always the aftershocks that surprise me the most.  I will go to battle with my toddler over the silliest things: Yes, you WILL get in your carseat!  No you WON'T sit on your sister! Do NOT bite your nails! Please tell mommy BEFORE you need to go peepee! STOP pulling the cat's tail! Put DOWN the golf club! 

And just when I think an issue is resolved, or peace has been restored or all is right with the world once more (usually about the time I reheat my coffee yet again)...someone else starts crying over something.

SERRRRIOUSLY?

It never fails.  The aftershocks keep coming.

We start the day waking up relatively calmly.  Jammies, coffee, maybe some cereal that slowly makes its way one crumb at a time from the bowl to my carpet (which my bare foot will no doubt find and shatter deeply into the fibers never to be recovered by my vacuum later).  Then, there's always an earthquake of some degree.  The initial JOLT that shocks my morning into overdrive, shooting my adrenaline sky high, and causing my eyes to twitch between caffeine intake and simply comprehending the events in front of me.

literally me at the end of today

It could be anything, really.  A poop explosion.  A spill of milk on someone's head.  A bonk on the noggin that sends one of them into a screaming frenzy.  It's never catastrophic (though, my neighbors might argue otherwise by the yelling they hear in our apartment).  But, it's always enough to initialize the domino that is "reality" for the series of aftershocks that follow.

Today had many aftershocks.  We never quite hit our pace in the day where things seemed to just settle down and everyone could take a deep breath.  Not once.  And never with any warning.

Maybe I expected earthquakes when I moved to California.  Just like I expected there would be "hard moments" in parenthood.  But, to be honest, I don't think I ever thought about the aftershocks.  It never occurred to me that sometimes there would be days that just seemed to be full of naughtiness, mischief, disobedience, outright sassiness, and that I would be the one to have to keep going, stay sane, remain calm...and stick to the original escape plan as laid out beforehand.

Ah, escape plans.  A necessary element in the face of such destruction.   This, I have yet to master.  But, I am working on it.

What do you do in those dark moments of frustration when all you really want to do is duct tape your child's mouth shut and go hide in your bedroom with a carton of ice cream??? (or something like that)

No, really...tell me.  (Get the discussion going, mamas!  How do you cope?)

And tune in next week as I tackle this question for myself.