Ten Resolutions for Normal Mothers (That Have Nothing To Do With Kids)

Happy New Year! It's 2016 - the year we're all going to be healthier, calmer, and happier. Right? [Insert fear and loathing here.]

As a mother of three, every night feels like New Year's Eve to me. When my kids are finally in bed and the house gets eerily quiet, it's all I can do to fend off the mommy guilt and combat my insecurities of the day. And as the thoughts of would've-should've-could'ves come trickling in, I commit to doing better the next day.

Tomorrow I won't yell at her when she can't find her other shoe and we're ten minutes late. Tomorrow I'll have supper ready at a normal hour and it will include a vegetable. Tomorrow I'll wake up earlier and take a shower before the kids wake up. Tomorrow I'll fold that pile of laundry that's taking up the entire couch. 

This is a wearing cycle. Do you relate?

Not every day is New Year's Day. I can't keep starting over like this. Who's with me?

I need practical solutions I can conquer throughout the day so I can look back in the evening with a feeling of triumph and not disdain. I want goals that are not only attainable, but progressive and have lasting impact.

So, I've come up with Ten Resolutions for NORMAL Mothers that will help keep you focused on the true priorities that offer your kids an example rather than a new set of rules. You can do these as often or as little as you like - but, when you are feeling bogged down that "nothing got done today", try one out and feel a sense of accomplishment instead!

Here we go!

1. Thank Jesus out loud. 
It's awkward and cheesy, but nothing stops complaining like saying "Thank you Jesus for this house that keeps us warm!" in front of your children. Maybe they will even join in.

2. Hold your spouse's hand. 
At dinner. On the couch. In the car. It doesn't really matter where or for how long. But if each of you has one hand free at the same time (i.e. the planets are aligned just right) then go for it.

3. Cereal for dinner.
If it's good enough to start the day, it's good enough to end with. Your kids will thank you. Your husband will survive. Just make it a thing and when the pantry is low and your guilt starts to creep up surprise everyone with bowls on the table that night. Voila.

4. Like stuff.
What do you like? I like coffee and I like cardigans and I like red lipstick even though I don't really wear it since I smooch my baby a lot and don't want her covered in splotches. There, was that so hard? When you feel worried about irrational things or have negative thoughts, start naming things you like and get to know why you like the stuff you like. It's amazing how much time can pass without someone asking you what you like - so ask yourself!

5. Get hooked on a TV show.
Congratulations! Chances are good you've already conquered this one. Keep at it. I know this sounds crazy, but in this chaotic phase of life with diaper blow-outs and Kindergarten politics, I need some seriously out-there fictional drama to look forward to now and then. It's okay to escape. It's okay to be entertained. And if you can't add this to your list of resolutions that you accomplish this year, I'm not sure we can be friends. Just sayin.

6. Wash your face, breathe, repeat.
You have time for this. It feels great. You need to do it. I know it feels silly to say these things, but when you are packing lunches and wiping little bottoms all day, even the most basic self-care can get tossed to the side when all you want to do is sleep. But, I have found that washing my face even in the middle of the day or to kickstart the morning or just before bed (so, anytime ever really) is more than cleansing for the pores, it just makes me calmer. It's a reset button that's just one washcloth away. You can do it.

7. Put shoes on.
I don't know if there's any research on this, but I get at least twice as much done in a day if I'm wearing shoes. It feels like I have somewhere to go, something to do, some place to be.  And I do! Even if it is, right here, sitting, folding laundry for my family.

8. Drink a glass of water.
I don't know anybody who drinks enough water. If the whole day is shot - then drink a glass of water and pat yourself on the back. Your body with thank you and it forces you to slow down for at least that moment. Bonus points if you say a prayer of gratitude for having clean water to drink while doing it!

9. Read a verse. 
Just one. Any book of the Bible. Any chapter. Yes, it would be lovely to sit down for an hour and sip coffee while getting out a Beth Moore study or highlighting a series of topics throughout the Word. There are days for that, and I hope they are many. But, some days your Bible gathers dust and you can't seem to recall if Hosea was in the Old Testament or the New Testament and you just need a hug. YOU ARE A NORMAL, CHRISTIAN MOTHER. And just one verse can travel to your core and give you peace that surpasses your understanding. On the days you just can't get any quiet time - google a verse and read it. You have time for that.

10. Smile in the mirror.
Be a dork. Just do it. Enjoy your face and try to see what everyone else gets to see the rest of the day. Even if your hair is a mess and you have spinach in your teeth (and by spinach I mean Oreos, of course) you look better with a smile. The action itself releases endorphins in your brain to trigger happy chemicals that can help you stay calm when you find your toddler coloring on the wall in the next room. Smile at yourself - it makes it a lot easier to smile at everyone else too.

This may not be the year you get out of debt or lose 30 pounds or cook every meal from scratch. Maybe you've already blown your resolutions and are frustrated with your willpower. It's going to be okay. You're in good company.

My kids don't need a thinner, perfectly organized, robot-mother. They need me. And I didn't decide that - God did! So, the best thing I can offer them in the new year is an honest human who's depending on Jesus openly. The other stuff will get done as needed...it always does.

This year I'm trying to focus less on what I'm doing and more on what I'm learning. I'm trying to stay honest with myself and keep my priorities centered more around the things that last forever (Jesus, relationships, gratitude) and allow myself the freedom to let go of the things that are temporary (dirty dishes, crumbs in the bunk bed).

Tonight, as I inevitably fold the clothes I'm neglecting in my dryer right now, I'm going to choose to thank Jesus out loud for the opportunity to live today and enjoy the little faces I get to hug on and kiss goodnight. And, instead of saying "I'll do better tomorrow", I'm going to rest in the assurance that today had plenty of purpose all its own.

Q&A: Time-Outs

Dear PardyMama,
My son is almost 3 and I can't seem to get him to sit still or listen to me.  His pre-school teacher complains about the same thing, and nothing seems to work.  Do you have any discipline suggestions? I don't want to spank him and I keep trying time-out but it seems to have no effect on him.  

Thanks!

Fed-Up Mama

Fed-Up,

Toddlers!?! They drive you crazy, right?  They can be the sweetest thing under the sun one minute with the hugs and puppy-dog eyes, then the next second they are screaming and running around like maniacs.  I feel ya! This reminds me so much of my daughter, Daphne, who just turned 3 last summer.  

Granted, some of this inability to sit still is simply their phase of life.  Toddlers (the busy ones anyway, and I really don't know any other kind) seem to have fire ants in their pants at all times.  If they don't MOVE they won't wear themselves out, and if you're like me, then of course you want your child tired at the end of the day!

But, sometimes over-stimulation can have the opposite effect.  Children who are too busy can get amped up or suddenly crash into an emotional oblivion - neither of which amount to sitting still or being good listeners. 

If time-outs seem to have lost their effect, gauge your sons surroundings for how stimulating they are.  Surprisingly, if he's fine with being sent to time-out, it might actually be because he enjoys it.  If this is the case, each time he is sent to time out, you are reinforcing the behavior that precipitated the punishment and telling him it is actually "How to get what you want"...which is exactly the opposite of what you're trying to do!

I know this sounds crazy, but try using time-out as a reward rather than a punishment.  

First step:  Change the name.  

Instead of "time-out" start calling it "alone time" or "calm time" or something more positive that he won't associate with discipline.

Second step: Change the location.

Don't have his new quiet moments in the same spot where he used to contemplate his faults.  

Third step: Change the purpose.

Give him something he enjoys to occupy himself - a storybook, a game, or a puzzle will work fine, just make sure he doesn't need your help in order to have fun using it.

Once these things are established, start implementing the new "alone time" as a reward.  When he starts to act up, simply and sternly tell him that he will get some special calm time in a few minutes if he can pay attention.  Then, follow through when you see him responding appropriately. (Do your best not to expect too much the first several times!  After all, most three-year-olds have the attention span of gnats.)  If nothing else, you've started to incorporate more time and space in your environment that breeds calming, self-soothing.

My Daphne was acting up so badly at her Mother's Day Out that one day she received 15 time-outs!  (No joke, see below!)  

I prayed about it, put my "therapist goggles" on, and spoke with her teacher about the situation.  The teacher tried the time-out-as-reward strategy as an experiment, and Daphne had a great day (no time-outs)!  I can't promise your boy won't have wiggly legs or wandering ears from time to time...but, pursuing opportunities for quiet might be just what his busy little self has been wanting all along.  Good luck!

Submit a question to Q&A - you could see it on a future blog!

On Failure

In the rush of the day, in the crazy busy-ness , in the whirlwind we call life, it seems to me that most of the time we are all just doing our best to avoid failure.  Failure can look different to different people within all kinds of circumstances.  For me, sometimes failure means losing my cool and yelling at my kid, or snapping at my husband instead of thinking before I speak, or even choosing to watch TV instead of doing my homework.

But, as I get older, these instances of failing are beginning to look less like moments of insecurity, and more and more like progressive opportunities.  I'm not saying all failure is good.  Certainly there are times that failure is outright sinful, and my repentance is as necessary as my humility in order to reap the full benefit of God's hand in my life.  But, I am saying this:  The only difference between failure and progress is perspective.

This struck me the other day when I was considering my frustrations as a parent (a common theme here on PARDYMAMA!)  I was biting my tongue, taking deep breaths, and praying through another moment of choosing peace and patience over my all-too-reactive anger.   I imagined how God must be looking at me through parental eyes - how He must look at all of us at times - and yet, He's not having to take deep breaths and settle Himself down over disappointment in us.  It's not that I don't disappoint God (absolutely, this should be obvious!) but, rather, that He can see the big picture - where I'm headed - the lessons I'm gaining, and so forth.  I just pictured God smiling earnestly at me and encouraging me "Oh dear Emily...you'll get it.  Remember my Words.  Trust in Me.  Depend on ME."

When I fail, something inside me (I would consider this "something" to be the Holy Spirit utilizing my conscience and conviction) tells me to do better next time, to stop relying on my own strength so much, to remember that there's a better path (albeit, often harder) and to choose differently in the future.  This recognition gives me unfathomable hope to change, be better, act differently.  This is the Spirit of Christ in me, working through even the most mundane or tumultuous moments.

THAT isn't failure...that's progress.

Seeing my weaknesses from God's perspective allows me the security to move forward, embrace grace and forgiveness, and grow in the progressive depth that my faith offers me in my actions.  It also reminds me of this verse:

2 Corinthians 12: 9-10

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ my rest upon me.  For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.

We all do our best to hide our weaknesses and avoid failures.  But, when failures come and the temptation to shirk into our own insecurities is quick to follow, I hope you take a deep breath and choose to embrace the progress Christ offers in those quiet moments.  I know He's still working on me, and I'm so grateful for each moment of progress I encounter, even if it takes me some time before I can step back and appreciate the true perspective of how God uses it in my life.

 

Busy

How are you these days?  Let me guess:  You're too busy, kind of exhausted, and not exactly sure how you're going to make it to next week. 

You are in good company, friends.

We're all so darn busy.  I don't know anyone who isn't busy at least almost all the time.  Even the people who have every excuse not to be busy seem to magically fill their days with obligations and expectations that inordinately can not be met by the average human.  Why do we do this to ourselves?  Is there some gold medal at the end of it that I'm unaware of?  And if there was, is it worth it?

While I, too, am a zombie running on inspiration and caffeine, I'm also a huge fan of "boundaries" and trying my best to walk the fence of efficiency and sanity.  That's a hard line to tow, and it's rarely accomplished without falling off the fence entirely at times, only to climb back up with a few scrapes and bruises.

I like to be busy.  I thrive when I'm surrounded by goals and support; having something that I can keep my eye on and lean on at the same time.  But, as much as a risk taker as I am, I also tend to overcommit myself or stretch my efforts too thin before I figure out it's too late.  As I learn and grow in my boundary-setting, however, I'm beginning to understand that it's really never too late to establish limits for myself.  Breaking and establishing limits is a huge part of growing up, after all, and it doesn't stop just because you have two kids and a mortgage.

Busy is different for different people.  My kind of busy includes being a wife, mother of two, full-time grad student, freelance writer, and part-time worker at the mall, as well as soon-to-be taking on some internship hours for my degree requirements.  Yes, my plate is full.  And, your plate is probably equally as full, just taken up by more or less of other people/activities/obligations that you've set in motion.  Somehow, we're all doing something to fill our time, and we're all ending up tired, yet passionate enough to keep going.

When I first took on my part-time job at the mall (working at Pottery Barn Kids) it started as a seasonal, Christmas job.  I thought it would only last a few months, and I was just as surprised as anyone when they asked if I would consider staying on and I accepted while minimizing my commitment to just a couple shifts a week.  At first, I thought What in the world am I doing? thinking I was, yet again, doomed to my habit of overcommitting and going to have to back out within weeks.  But, that hasn't been the case, and I can tell you exactly why.

Keeping my little part-time gig has brought more relief to my schedule than burden.  I'll be honest, it's a lovely place to work.  The people are kind and considerate for the most part, the place is cute and clean, and while I'm hardly making any extra money there, it's just enough to ease my mind a bit when my kid's sneakers all of a sudden don't fit overnight!  (Life doesn't stop for growth spurts!)

But, what really has kept this in my hectic schedule is that the hours I work there have forced me to deliberately allow myself a mental break from life's normal chaos and greater obligations.  When I'm there, I simply can not check my iPhone, listen to my daughter's whining, do household chores, catch up on homework, or distract myself with some ridiculous thing online that I probably don't have time for anyway.  I have some very simple, straightforward tasks to busy myself with for the night (be kind to customers, help organize/scan merchandise, take out the trash, etc) that don't require much brain power.  As silly as it sounds, working at the mall is almost as close as it gets for me to having a night off.

Even Garfield gets it.

I have had to turn down other things because my schedule was full.  I have had to miss out on some opportunities or get-togethers because I've carved out this time in my schedule to do X-Y-Z.  But, I have also gained some new perspectives on how and why I do the things I do.  I am a big believer in "you do what you want to do" and the truth is, right now it is healthier for me to have this part-time job than not!  If you find yourself with a schedule full of things you'd rather not be doing, it may be time to ask yourself why in the world they are important to you?

I'm not sure how we're all supposed to juggle everything.  For each person who looks at another and wonders "How do they do it?" probably ten more are looking at them and thinking the same thing.  We're not meant to live someone else's life or juggle their to-do list for them.  I am taking life one day at a time, just like everyone else, and curious how the hours will pan out from week to week.  Time can feel like a giant puzzle when you are trying to grasp all that it has to offer.

Be busy.  Be productive.  But, don't forget to carve out some time for yourself to mindlessly incorporate something that can allow you some freedom from your busy-ness.  Don't get me wrong, I also require plenty of down time to completely shutdown and submerge myself into something purely relaxing (like, watching reruns of Modern Family or "reading" the latest Oprah magazine).

But, whatever it looks like for you, I can guarantee that the rest of your busy life will thank you when you allow yourself limited time to limit yourself.

Purge

Well, it's that time of year again...when I notice a drawer getting a cluttered, a pair of pants I never wear, and before I know it I'm in full-fledged purge mode, cleaning out the closets of all the things we don't need that's taking up space in our home.

The other day, I realized my four-year-old outgrew almost every pair of pants she owned.  This seemingly happened within a span of two weeks, her little legs just shot right out and within days she acquired an all-capri wardrobe that sent her ankles shivering in this wintry season.  How did that happen?  Upon buying her some longer pants, I was soon to find other ill-fitting clothes hiding in my daughter's dresser, and so began the task of clearing out and handing-me-down my girl's apparel.


Half-a-dozen trash bags later, all our closets had been lightened.  I have to say, having just moved across the country 7-ish months ago, I'm amazed at how much superfluous accumulation we had taken on within our 900 sq. ft. apartment.  Yes, the girls had rightfully outgrown a bit of their clothing, but Josh and I had our fair share of giveaways as well. T-shirts I just never wear, pajama pants that have an annoying drawstring, a shirt that shrunk in the dryer, a jacket that hasn't been worn in seasons...you get the picture.

The great "toy purge" is always my favorite - getting rid of all those ridiculous knick-knacks that somehow go from this-will-shut-my-kid-up-at-the-moment-necessary-survival-item, to junk in the span of only a few days.  McDonald's toys, stocking stuffers, puzzles with missing pieces, baby stuff they've lost interest in...it all adds up to a pile of someone-else's-treasures that get sacked up and ready to deliver to Goodwill (or the garbage bin, depending).

Ah, there is always a wonderful sense of pride and relief when I shove all that "extra" out of my home. While some of the items get passed on with nostalgia and feelings of sadness (I just can't believe my baby outgrew that sweet kitty jammie onesie, it was soooo adorable and now she'll never wear it again!) I take a deep breath and embrace the new freedom of what is to come.  I know new "things" and new "items" and most of all, new memories are always right around the corner.

Purging my house of unnecessary stuff also got me thinking about cleaning out more than just tangible junk.  What am I hanging onto inside that is simply just taking up SPACE?  Am I used to familiar worries or concerns or desires that have no bearing on my life right now?  Are there things I need to kick to the curb and move on from so that I can better use that mental space to store up new items like patience or grace that I could really, truly put to good use?

This got me thinking, and I'm still thinking and praying about it.  What is there to get rid of?

That residual guilt I have for leaving my girls in the care of someone else, even though I know there are times when it is absolutely the best thing for both of us in the moment.  That should go.  Ah, but that guilt feels so necessary - I wear it so well, and I think I might need it to keep me feeling okay about doing what I'm doing.  Really?  Nope, it's got to go.  Lord, help me replace that guilt with grace and strength.

What about that approval I need from others to feel like I'm going above and beyond in balancing my work and family?  Maybe that should be boxed up and sent away for good.  But what if someone thinks I'm not doing the right thing?  And it feels good when another person looks up to me.  I like other people's approval.  But, do I need it?  Do I wait for it in order to make decisions or be inspired?  It needs to be let go.  Lord, help me to seek your guidance and inspiration and remember that only You're approval matters in my life.  Help me replace that approval with genuine motivation to serve well.

What about you?  Hanging onto unnecessary clutter in your heart or mind that is just taking up useless space?  Maybe it felt good a long time ago, or maybe it even served a valid purpose when you needed it...but, can it be let go?  Can you join me in asking Jesus to replace that void with peace, grace, or kindness?

Purging isn't easy.  It's messy and emotional and it conjures up all kinds of memories and dirt that makes me want to rent out a storage unit with unlimited space.  But, limits are vital to thrive in this life, and they can be put to beautiful use when I ask God to reorganize the essentials.

Now, that's what I call real relief.

Red Flags

Dear Self,

Watch out for red flags in life.  Sure, there are the regular dangers - obvious temptations that most are
 normally guarded against.  Things like lust, gluttony, hatred...those things are commonly repulsive and there's often support to build up the moral courage to avoid them.

But, lately, there've been other red flags.  Flags I'm not so sure you're aware of and I want to hit you over the head before you become completely blind to them.  These are the red flags of distraction.

Your iPhone has a giant red flag, your computer, your stack of homework in the corner over there.  Your bills, your blog, your Facebook, your calendar, your Instagram, even your devotional that you don't read every day (might I take this opportunity to remind you to not forget about that one entirely).  These things are not good or bad.  They just are...and they are enormous filler-uppers of your time that you never intended to distract you so completely.

You need to pray about this.  You need to hand over some of the control that you are disillusioned into thinking you have.  You need to lay down these "priorities" and stop considering these options as if they are obligations.  They are not.  Not when you have reality flashing before your face at lightning speed, and you are losing sight of the fact that the present is turning into the past faster than you can type about it.

Turn the tv off.  Put the iPhone down.  Let the blog go for one more day.  Email that person when you actually have time...they'll wait, I promise.  These red flags are stealing more than just moments from your day - they are warning you against true destruction, losing yourself into these objects instead of into purpose.

You can't say no every time to every body; but, you can say yes to the things that matter most, most of the time.  These red flags around you are distracting you from being able to see the joy that surrounds you.  They steal your peace and obstruct your vision for what you want your life and time and energy to be spent on.

Self...take a deep breath.  You are not going to get this right the first time.  Ask God for extra grace as you take little steps in practicing new patterns, praying your way into a routine that seeks calm and reveres quiet.  These distractions don't have to be put to death, you can still write, still read, still peruse the status updates and photos of your friends...but, all in due time.  Embrace the freedom to take part in it all, and allow yourself the pleasure of being able to do so, instead of feeling burdened by thinking you are "so needed" and allowing your thoughts to be pulled in chaotic directions.

Be thankful for the red flags.  These distractions are warning signs, flashy and justified and sometimes intended for the good of others - but, they are toxic when overused, misused, abused, or dominating time that is meant for your calling.  Time better spent in the present.  Energy better used in being vulnerable.  Life better lived for His glory.

Pluck the red flags out, replace them with white ones, and surrender your burdens to the One who will never fail you when it comes to time management.  Yes, Jesus even cares about the loudest of moments, the craziest and most chaotic of schedules, and He's here to help you sort through the rubble and see a clearer picture of how this all fits together.  Let Him take His time with you.  He's never late.

One more deep breath.

Emily

301

This is my 301st blog post.  When did that happen?!

I don't know whether that number seems impressive to you or not, but I can tell you one thing - I never saw it coming.  When I started PARDYMAMA about 4 years ago, I was sitting in a cubicle, bored out of my gourd and looking for an outlet.

I would peruse the internet in between tasks like every other red-blooded American out there, and I read a variety of blogs, all having been established for years and very clear with their message, voice, and content.  When I would consider starting up something of my own, the idea was always quickly devoured by insecurities:  What did I have to say?  Who cared?  Would anyone read it?  Do I have time for this?  What if people hate it?  Am I even good at this?  And so forth.

It began sloooowly, and I would still consider it today amidst it's "early stages" though it's clear to me now that it won't be ending any time soon (a foggy option that I have probably considered a dozen times or more in the first couple years).

I started writing simply because it was 1) something to fill my time, 2) a creative outlet for me, and 3) what I needed.  How much I needed it, or even why was still beyond my grasp, but it wasn't long before my habit for writing grew into a full-blown addiction.

I struggled for years to seek out a real "passion".  I had a plethora of interests, I had a shallow-yet-diverse scope of talents to choose from (jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none, so to speak).  And yet, I wrote and wrote with no neon signs pointing me towards a clear goal of achieving anything of grand significance. I wrote for myself, about myself, and primarily continue to do so today.  My writing process has always consisted of three simple steps:  Ponder, Pray, Publish.  That's it.  That's my magic formula.

I see many friends grapple with the notion of finding a "passion".  And, in today's "gotta-be-somebody" world, this overused term can paralyze the most gifted of hearts and minds.  The pressure to feel valued in a singular talent or to find the majority of your life's satisfaction within a mere resume of feats is altogether disillusioning to any normal human.  We are all pretty good at a lot of things, but very very very few of us are spectacular at a solitary task.

Toss out the word "passion".  Just crumple it up and curb that sucker.  Instead - take inventory:  What do you spend your time doing?  Why?  We live in chaos and stress ourselves out over the mundane chores of the day, but when we can step back and look at our routines we might start to find some consistencies, some patterns that we find we simply can't live without.

This is life, this is what you are alive for.

I was living my life's "calling" for years before I stood back and appreciated it for what it was.  I was just being me, being honest, following Christ as best I could, living out the process that it takes for me to function and improve and fail and need and seek and find and start all over again.  And 300 blog posts later, I still fight the same old insecurities I did from day one.  I still have obstacles that get in the way of my calling.  And as much as I need and love to write, it's still work for me.  Nobody ever tells you that about "passion".  No one ever says "it's what you're best at, but it just might kill you".

Let go of the pressure and pray through those insecurities.  Keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, and let us encourage one another in the plight against passion and instead seek out the beauty of the patterns that make us who we are.  Let's ask God for the continued grace to give us the opportunities to live out our lives in the way He deems best, worthy of the hard work it requires from our weary selves.

Stop looking for your passion.  You're already living it.

Planuary

I'm no expert on organization or how to de-crazy your life.  I tend to be a "just-make-it-till-bedtime" kind of mother, and all too often I am left staring at a to-do list with extra tasks still rattling around in my mind.  It never seems to all get done; and if it does, it's an extremely short-lived victory.

So, I've been trying my best over the last few weeks on "break" to summon the strength and motivation in order to plan for a bit more sanity in the year ahead.  My three "tips" below aren't original necessarily innovative.  But, they are simple, attainable, and it's what I plan to implement into my own life this year so that I can reach beyond survival mode and actually thrive amidst the mayhem.

Welcome to PLANUARY: my game plan for sanity this January which I hope inspires motivation in the days ahead.

1. MEAL PLAN is a four letter word in my home.  
Two four letter words for that matter.  Ugh.  The thought of it is intimidating and wearisome, I get it.  But, instead of planning out an entire month, or even three meals a day for an entire week - limit it to the one meal everyone has on their minds:  Supper.

Almost every day I felt this burden for coming up with a grand idea for sustaining the nourishment of my family and creating a Norman Rockwell moment at 6pm each night.  Rarely did this actually happen.  And, when left with no default to lean back on, I would all-to-often end up ordering pizza and justify the expense (both financial and caloric) with my stressful state and busy calendar.

Sure, pizza night is gonna happen once in a while - it should!  But, I want to plan for it, enjoy it, and indulge guilt-free.  While we might scrounge for breakfast and lunch (keeping bread, eggs, lunchmeat, and canned soups on hand is not so difficult after all) I know exactly what we're gonna have for supper that night.

Keeping it simple:  Take inventory of what you have.  List meats and sides, and then match them up and cross them off the list.  Then, jot it down on a place where you can SEE it.  Don't think about it too much - just look at the days you know you will be home for supper and write down the idea (be sure to note if you need to defrost something ahead of time).  You don't need to roast a turkey every Wednesday - I have "frozen pizza" down for Friday night because I know that's a high-risk-ordering-in night for me.  Be practical, realistic, and only take it one meal/one week at a time.  If I can do it, you can do it!  Honestly, to look over and know what's for dinner is a HUGE relief for me.  It eliminates the guessing game and the burden, which is well worth the 20 minutes each weekend to look in my cabinets and write it out.

2. CLEAN HOUSE - what's that?
I can't imagine the thought of having every room clean in my home.  I go to bed thinking "Tomorrow I will have the energy to tackle this, this, and also that." Then I wake up early to the grumpy sounds of children arguing and everything shifts to the bottom of the totem pole until it's suddenly the end of the day and there are even more Cheerios ground into my carpet.  How do you spell frustration? C-h-i-l-d-r-e-n   I get it.

Keeping it simple: Don't tackle the whole house.  Don't even try a whole floor.  Just start with the most disgusting room (or closet, or counter, or teeny-tiny shelf) in your home and get it satisfactory.  No one is coming in with white gloves to test your cleaning skills, no one is bringing you a trophy later for your endeavors, no one is probably going to even notice that your toilet bowl went from Frat-boy-status to Mr-Clean-worthy.  Don't kill yourself, just do what you can and high-five yourself.

We ALL have dishes.  We ALL have laundry on our floors.  We ALL have swept those Cheerios under the couch before our playdate arrived.  Life happens and you can't live under the burden of maintaining a June Cleever home.  You are not alone - but, you are also not a pig.  You have 10 minutes to tackle ONE thing and it will make everyone feel better.  The best part?  Cleaning ONE thing usually is all the motivation I need to tackle just one MORE thing (when I have time).  And while it might not last for long, it's the small victories that help us sleep at night.

3. SAVE THE DATE - for your marriage.
Ever get those adorable "Save the Dates" in the mail for your friend's wedding?  Don't they look so picturesque and romantic?  While they might remind us of younger years when it was easier to go out and be alone with your hunk of a husband, it also can make me sigh in jealousy wishing life wasn't too crazy for dating the man I love.

Week to week is bogged down with obligations.  If I wait until Thursday to figure out a plan, I'm way too late.  If I can't find child care, I give up.  There are many hurdles when it comes to finding alone time with our spouses.

Keeping it simple: Text your babysitter RIGHT NOW - ask her for a free Friday night in February or March and then MARK IT ON THE CALENDAR.  Tell your husband to make sure that night is clear.  Put the date in your phone/email/planner so that you are sure to schedule around it.  If your doctor or friend or child's teacher asked you to save a date, you would.  Don't put your hubby at the bottom of the list.  Stick a happy post-it note on your fridge (right next to those wedding invites) and save the date.  You have plenty of time to think up fun and cheap ideas for what to do with that night, as well as save back some change to blow for the event (no matter how small or big).



That's it!  Choose one - or all - to implement into your own crazy life.  Send me YOUR ideas for how you plan to shift your focus, ease your guilt, or save your sanity this year!  As we exchange ideas and encourage one another, we might just make it to 2015 with smiles on our faces.  :)

Fresh Start

I'm BACK!  Hello world, hello new year, hello FRESH START and new beginnings.

Last year was CRAZY and I don't expect any less insanity in 2014.  It will surely be different craziness, as I don't plan on moving 2,000 miles with two toddlers and embarking on a entirely new course for my life by starting grad school.  Still, the year ahead marks a milestone of transition that is in process as we continue to grasp our bearings on our new life in Nashville.

For many of you, the new year started last week, when the clock struck midnight and your diet kicked into full swing.  But, despited the blanket of ice that has immobilized the surrounding metropolis, today is a day of MOVEMENT in my soul for the coming months ahead.

Each year brings change.  Change is rarely comfortable, and so preparing for a new horizon of possibilities can feel daunting at times.  As I rested over the holidays (oh, and also worked my buns off at the mall handling the wackiest of customers) I was reminded how my actions are merely a reflection of the strength God provides me.

I do because He did.  Not the other way around.

I felt fear in looking ahead at my schedule for the coming year:  All the obligations I have as a mother to wipe noses and make sure I hug and kiss enough and read the right story books and get them to eat at least one vegetable.  All the passion I have as a wife to serve my husband well and encourage him and speak truth to him and love him with genuine respect and admiration and romance.  All the fortitude and determination I sink into being a grad student, the piles of books and papers and the unattainable task to always be the best in class.  All the anxiety and excitement of taking on my first clients for therapy and being vulnerable enough to absorb the critiques of my supervisors.

It's a lot.  It's too much for me.  But, it's not too much for my God, and not a surprise to Him at all that I recognize my weakness through the challenges of the life I'm living.

There are a lot of goals I have for 2014, but essentially they all culminate into one word:  thrive.  I don't want to just survive anymore.  I don't want to just see what's in store for the day and check boxes that get me from A to Z.  I don't want to just look down and see the tracks I've made in the path behind me, but I want to stake out new ground, uncover new strengths, and seek out fresh perspectives that I've never known before.

There are many midnights ahead of us to create, and recreate continual resolutions for the days ahead.  We can each take refuge in the strength we don't have by resting in the assurance of the stronghold that we do.  Thank you God for a fresh start, for the chance to change, to refine, to restore.  Thank you for new years and new opportunities.  Your grace is like new fallen snow, even as my dirty black boots trudge through the unchartered areas.

Thank you for the future.  Here I come.

Smarty Pants

So, today I am stepping way out of my element.  I'm teaching an undergrad Psychology class about Ethical Dilemmas this afternoon.  Whhhaaaa?!

Yeah, I wouldn't have put this on my bucket list, but now that I'm doing it (even if it is just a one-time thing) I feel like I should place "Teach a college class" on the list just so I can cross it off!

I have never taught a class.  I think the closest I've come is helping out in a youth group or speaking to college girls as an RA (back in the day!)  But, today, I'm walking into a classroom full of students who will look at me with apathy in their eyes and think "I hope this old lady shows some YouTube clips and talks fast."

Well, hope-of-our-future, you are in luck - I will be showing many YouTube clips and I do speak rather quickly.  I'm not going to change any lives today (I mean, that's not in my powerpoint anyway) but, today's experience will change my life.

These students have no idea that this is a big moment for me, that it is adding a new feat to my resume, stepping out of my comfort zone to talk about a topic I really have barely scratched the surface on myself, and putting on my smarty pants to act like I'm the most knowledgeable person in the room.  (Ha!)

Being back in school has catapulted my desire for learning.  Turns out, I'm a major geek when it comes to topics I really enjoy learning about.  WHO KNEW!?  And, I have a new motivation for making sure I present intelligence as a foremost strength for my daughters to witness and want to imitate.

Why is it so hard for women to own their intelligence?  It can feel so daunting and uncomfortable to say things like "Mommy loves to learn! Mommy is smart!"

Like, am I setting the bar too high for them?  What if I'm really not that smart?  What if they have a hard time learning?

Worries are normal, especially when it comes to raising kids!  But, when I really start to think through those doubts, I quickly realize how insecure I can sound.  Maybe all those things have a grain of truth to them, the expectations and hopes that I have might be very ideal.  But, the alternative is not an option.

Not only do I want my girls to see me being a strong, confident, smart woman...but I want them to see that I'm challenging myself, overcoming doubts and taking risks.  I want them to see that it's a struggle, that I have worries, that I pray through so so so many of my weaknesses and therefore become stronger because of them.

Maybe this is the only class I'll ever teach.  Maybe I'll totally blow it and lecture the entire time with food in my teeth.  Maybe I'll be amazing and inspire another girl to become a therapist (hey, I can dream big!)  But, it's true what they say about the "teacher learning the most in the room"; and, today, I've learned what it means to make sure my girls know they have a smart mother.  

Smart women encourage others to be smart.  Own it!  Live it!  And, let's raise daughters who grow up to teach their daughters that learning never ends.

When God Shows Up on the Way to Old Navy

I originally guest blogged this post for my friend Stephanie over at A Wide Mercy.

Here is the post in full...

When Stephanie asked me to write a blog about taking a leap of faith, I about fell out of my chair. If she had asked me even the week before, I would have had plenty to tell. Three months ago, my husband and I moved 2,000 miles with two toddlers and no job in sight. However, at this moment, I knew exactly what God was telling me to write, and that wasn’t it. 

I had two hours of free time. FREE time. Child-free time. And, this just about never ever happens for me. My husband had just that morning received an official offer of a job that we’d been praying about for months, so I was feeling on top of the world that afternoon. Our journey of unemployment had come to a sudden halt, and I was ready to celebrate. The relief of having a couple hours to myself brought on the most delicious of problems: What shall I do with my time?


It took me about two seconds to decide to go shopping. As any mother knows, the freedom to try on clothes at your leisure without someone griping at you and pulling on your arms is a gift unlike any other. This mama was SET on some seriously selfish time to go blow some cash on a new dress! Woohoo! Old Navy, here I come!

I walked out the door, confident and totally full of myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I had gone out by myself without an errand like “remember diapers” or “stop for milk” attached to it in some way. I was thrilled with the notion of escape and ready to appease my inner bargain hunter with some new duds.

As I took my exit, I saw her. A woman around my age, sweaty and in clothes much too small for her. She held a cardboard sign which read, “Please help. Need diapers. God bless.”  My heart sunk at the thought of who those diapers must be for, and I reached over and as I shuffled my hand around my purse, I realized I had no cash on me. Traffic progressed forward, and so did I. I turned and said a quick prayer for her. Poor thing. That must be rough. But, who knows, maybe she’s not even telling the truth. She probably just wants money. She probably doesn’t even have a kid.

I turned onto the road toward Old Navy and came to a stop sign. I could see the store in the distance, calling to me with the empty promises of consumerism that will fulfill my every insecurity. And then – GOD SPOKE. (How do I know it was God? Because I know myself pretty well, and I would never tell myself this. I wanted a new dress, after all).  God said, “Are you sure you want to go buy a new dress you don’t need when you live in a world where someone is asking you for diapers?” 

I rolled my eyes. I sat at the stop sign a full minute. I sighed and made a deal. Ok, God. I will go all the way back around. But, if she’s not there, then I’m coming back for that dress. Okay? I’m pretty sure this is when God rolled His eyes at me too.

I didn’t just turn around. Remember, she was at an EXIT. So, I had to literally drive another mile, do a u-turn, and then flip my hazards on and pull up to the corner where the exit let out. The whole way I was making excuses. God, seriously? Look how much trouble this is! I’m holding up traffic! I’m taking so long, she probably won’t even be there anymore! She was.She ran up, and I rolled down my window. And all of a sudden she was a real human, staring me in the face. She had a name. And a daughter. And a need.

I told her I would run to Target, that I had some things to get anyway, and could she meet me over at that parking lot by the bank in about an hour? She could.

I went into Target with a weird nervousness. I was on a mission, and it had nothing to do with me. God spoke, I listened, and now He was providing. You’d think this would have hit me in the face earlier in the day when we had been given the gift of a new job after three months of unemployment. Indeed, we were struck with gratitude for God’s provision…and there I was, ready to go blow it at Old Navy. Instead, I was blessed with the new opportunity to pass it on, pay it forward, and spread the love that had been shown to me just as readily. What’s more? When God tells you to do something and you do it, He makes it easy on you. The diapers that she needed were on clearance that day – go figure. So, I got her the BIG box, and I didn’t stop there.

I don’t just serve the God who meets needs. I serve the God that goes above and beyond…and that’s who I needed to reflect. I picked up a little stuffed animal for her daughter, and a small book of bedtime prayers with real verses inside.  I got some water and healthy snacks for them, and some nutritious toddler food as well. I didn’t know what to get, and it really didn’t matter. I just prayed, and purchased, and packed my trunk in the name of Jesus.She found me in the parking lot where I met her daughter and two male friends. I have no idea who these people are…but, I know God, and I know He doesn’t make mistakes when He creates life. 

I handed them the Target bags and they were incredible grateful.  And then, I told them my  story. I told them all how God had just blessed my family with a new job and that’s exactly why I’m able to be used to bless them now. I told them God cares, and it’s not easy out there.  I’m so sorry that you’re going through this rough time, but this is not the end of your story. And, then, I prayed for them. OUT LOUD and in the name of Jesus Christ. I prayed for their protection, their provision, and that they would be encouraged and dependent on Jesus alone to provide a way for them to be able to bless someone in return very soon.

I reached out, I looked them all in the eyes, I hugged the little girl and put my hands on the shoulders of the mother. I was human with them. WITH them.

And then, I got in my car and drove home to my girls and my shelter and my belongings I don’t deserve. I repented from my selfishness and thanked God for the opportunity to be part of something that made a tangible difference and reminded me of my ongoing need for Him alone. I thanked Him not only for His provision, but also His graciousness in overlooking my doubt and utilizing my stubbornness and turning it into ACTION.

Opportunities are everywhere. I’m amazed at what God places in front of us when we just start to ask Him to show us. Sometimes it is scary. It almost NEVER makes any sense at the time. We can almost ALWAYS justify a way out of it. But, when I put myself out there and make myself available to His work, taking action becomes the easy part.

A leap of faith doesn’t have to look like abandoning security and traveling 2,000 miles with two toddlers.Sometimes it looks like a trip to Target where you find diapers on clearance. Look out. Look around. 

You’re right in the middle of your next chance to act.

Midterms

It's been a long, long time since I've had a midterm.  In fact, the last time I even heard the term "midterm" was to reference the status of reaching halfway through my pregnancy and it had nothing to do with homework at all.  The only test I had to pass back then was the anatomy ultrasound and going shopping for more pink clothes.

But, this is a very different midterm.  I'm a full-time grad student, and I've never felt it more than these last couple weeks.  My many faces of midterms indicate just how thrilling and confusing it all feels.  I'm feeling thrill and pressure and eager all at once.  Tests, projects, papers, research, and genuine, honest-to-goodness library time.  Who in the world am I?  How did I get myself into this?

Ever have moments when you don't quite recognize your own life?

I was thinking the other day that if I ran across a job description of my life, I would turn it down in a heartbeat.  All of the hours and stress and fortitude necessary to keep up with the reality of it all spelled out on paper would be unfathomable to me.  It might look something like:

Wanted:  Caretaker for two humans that act more like monkeys than children.  Must be able to fulfill their every need at any given time, including overnights.  Must be able to meal plan on a tight budget and make sure household clothing is wearable at all times.  Must be able to fit in massive amounts of reading and paperwork on "downtime".  Research and writing proficiency expected.  Attendance at all meetings, curricular and extracurricular, required.  Must not forget to bathe on occasion.  Ability to function on little sleep a plus!  No pay, but many intangible perks.  Apply today!

Ha!  I would immediately disregard this position.  Who in their right mind would go for this?  And yet - here I am!  Smack dab in the middle of the irrational chaos, trying to soak up as much knowledge and memories as I possibly can.  I am being pushed to my limits and loving it.  I am wringing myself dry with every hour that passes, and then praying to absorb the importance and value of the present like a sponge left out in the rain. 

This is a specific season of my life that I've been called to.  Midterms is really a micro-analogy for these next couple years in school while I try to balance home life and homework.  There's no way I could do it without my husband, my friends, my family, my support, and my God who is greater and mightier than any cup of coffee (and I would know).  

I might be sleep deprived and over-caffienated, but I'm not alone.  

What's your midterm?  How are you functioning in the middle of your own chaos?

Many of us would never apply to the position that we're currently in.  Lots of times life throws us more than we could ever bear alone, and that's exactly how I think life should be.  The people around us, the challenges and trials that shape and mold us, they are all used in very specific ways to push us towards who we're meant to be.  With prayers for wisdom and perseverance, God allows us to take part in each other's calling.  In fact, maybe the last part of that wanted ad should mention something else:

*Must collaborate well with others and ask for help when needed.  Assistance provided upon request.

Now, that's something I'm glad I signed up for.  

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.

Nature

The other day, a new friend of mine asked if I'd like to meet up to go hiking early one morning.  Immediately, I dismissed the idea, thinking to myself "Oh, I'm NOT a hiker and I'm NOT a morning person".

Then, I thought about it for a second.  The timing would be great - up and gone before anyone else even woke up in the house.  Cool morning air, a little huffing and puffing in the middle of nature, soaking up the bright new day.  Hmm, maybe this did sound appealing.  Who am I to label myself with such stringent restriction?

Maybe every day hikers wouldn't consider me a hiker - but, couldn't I hike?  Maybe every day early risers wouldn't call me a morning person - but, couldn't I get up early and enjoy it?  You bet!

I freely admitted to my friend my novice-status and soon enough, it was Saturday morning and I was lacing up my sneakers before dawn.  Being out in nature - dirt, rocks, trees, birds - was even better than I remember.  The two-and-a-half mile hike went by super quickly, as good company and getting-to-know-you conversation betters any experience in my book.  But, I never would have done it if 1) I wasn't invited and 2) I stepped outside my box.

It's not really in our nature to step outside our comfort zones as humans.  We get comfortable and settled into our routines and perspectives; and, normal life doesn't offer enough opportunities to push us much beyond our boundaries.

It wasn't in my nature to get out and enjoy nature.  Maybe it's one of those nature-versus-nurture moments where we have to stop and nurture ourselves towards going against our normal flow.  It wasn't a big deal - so what, I got up early and hiked a few hills? - but, it was enough to remind me how important it is for me to do things like that.  Do things that I don't consider "me".  

What can you do this week to step out of your nature?  

How can you redefine labels you may have placed on yourself?

I probably won't turn into a nature-loving-every-day-hiker any time soon.  I definitely want to get out there more often and appreciate the air and land that God created that I so rarely stop to observe.  But, no matter what, I want to be intentional about always trying new things, always stretching the boundaries of my self-labeled-box just enough to explore new aspects of who I am.

It might not be in our nature to lean towards the uncomfortable, but we all have the ability to nurture each other; whether that's reaching out to new friends, encouraging new adventures, or exploring the nature of God through the creation that's all around us.

Bulldozer

I almost didn't write this post.  It has potential to paint me (or my kids, or my parenting) in a bad light, and it's downright embarrassing.  And then I remembered - I'm not alone.  So, I'm hoping this hits home for somebody somewhere and reaches whomever it might be meant for.  You're not alone.

It was just a few days ago...



"Well, if somebody would watch their children like they are supposed to, this wouldn't happen!" the grandfatherly fellow sitting catty-corner to me in Chick-Fil-A huffed and puffed.  His remark was precisely directed towards me like a laser beam, though his eye contact hit the floor in disgust.

"I'm sorry, sir?  Did something happen?  Did my daughters do something?"  I was instantly offended and embarrassed and I didn't have a clue what he could be talking about.

He turned toward me, hugging his around-2-years-old granddaughter in his arms who appeared no worse for the wear from what I could tell.  It was clear, however, that something had him incredibly agitated.

"I don't know, but there's two girls in there who were spitting on my granddaughter!"

Fear rose as my heart sank.  As much as I didn't want to admit it, the only two little girls left in the Chick-Fil-A play area were my own flesh and blood.

"I am SO sorry.  Please wait a minute."  I pleaded with the older man who was getting ready to leave with the sweet little wide-eyed victim on his lap.

Let me tell you, hell hath no fury like a mother whose little ones make her look like a bad parent by behaving like little heathens.  My mind instantly flooded with questions about what had really happened and yet, I couldn't help that it did sort of seem like something my little angels might attempt.  Ugh.

I burst into the play area and with the growl of a mother bear, I demanded my childrens' immediate presence.  Matilda emerged from the plastic-tube-castle-of-fun first, and so I yanked her outta there quicker than a wedding ring from garbage disposal.

"Did you spit on that little girl?" I felt like my voice had reached new depths of seriousness.  Matilda knew I was not kidding around.  She nodded.

I firmly placed her little body in front of the little girl and her grandfather.  "WHAT DO YOU SAY?" I bellowed.

"I'm sorry" came the tiniest of timbre out of the mouth of my babe.

I got in her face, right then and there.  "You NEVER spit on anybody.  You are never unkind to anyone.  Do you understand?  Now, go sit down.  We're done.  We're leaving."

As Matilda climbed up into the chair at our table, I looked up at the grandfather, who I think was stunned more by the scene of the apology than the actual altercation.

"Thank you," said the grandfather.  And they left.

As I retrieved my other toddler from the plastic pit of germs, I could feel the adrenaline rushing throughout my body.  I was so disappointed.  I was so embarrassed.  I was so MAD.  I was so offended.  I was so worried.  I was so SAD.

The long ride home was fraught with mixed emotions.  We calmly talked through what had "really" happened, and I gave Matilda a chance to explain herself.  By the time we got home, I was still choked up over the whole mess of it.  I wanted to handle this correctly.  I wanted to make sure my child understood all sides of this story.  And I wanted to drill into her the impact she can have on others and empower her to use it for GOOD.  Good grief.

While my babes went down for nap time, I had a chance to think.  Was this really about Matilda?  Was this really about making sure she understood?  Certainly.  But, was there more to it than that?  After all, wasn't I also mad and offended about not being able to explain myself to that grandfather?  Why did it bother me so much that he didn't know the whole story - that he would never know the whole story?

Here's the whole story:

On multiple occasions, we have had to discipline our girls for "spitting" at each other.  It's not exactly spitting - I mean, there's no liquid or drink in their mouths or anything - it's just putting your lips together and blowing and making a silly sound.  To them, anyway.  To us, it's annoying and rude.  Sure.  But, when you put it in context, it's just two mischievous sisters goofing around.  Yes, we tell them not to do it, but it is a rather mild offense in our home and usually knocked off after a warning (or two).

On this particular day, my girls were being extra-rambunctious.  Oh, and it was only 9am.  I needed to get them OUT of the house, but it was dreadfully humid outside.  They suggested Chick-Fil-A, and the thought of an air conditioned play area where they could be confined and minimally supervised was extremely appealing to me.  I set up camp at a table RIGHT outside the play area where I could completely see them, but their sound was curtailed.  I brought my iPad along to do some reading for homework while I kept an eye on them.  Yes, I understand this could appear very slacker-mom-ish...but, I know my girls and my hearing and sight on them was a-plenty, I assure you.

Matilda explained herself immediately to me after "the incident".  She said "But mom, I was just being so funny.  I thought it was funny!"  Sigh.  Knowing how she and her sister are, I can definitely imagine how they egged each other on and then, being the extremely boisterous and social types that they are, wanted to include EVERYONE in on the fun.  The poor little girl never had a chance - she was pegged  as a "new friend" by the Pardy girls from the get-go and just ended up cornered in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now...I definitely explained thoroughly to Matilda afterward how "Being funny means EVERYONE is having a good time and laughing.  Hurting someone's feelings is NEVER funny." and so forth.  But, all in all, it was clear to me that her intentions were pure while her execution of the joke was very poor. (First rule of comedy, Til...know your audience!)  Still, she was punished, and "good intentions" never get you off the hook in the Pardy home.  Enough said.

I had never before been a position where my child was the bully.  I have been the parent of the child who was bullied, however, and that is nearly equally as frustrating.  However, this situation shed new light on the stressful scenario.

I don't mind telling you another strategic detail of this story.  The family of the grandfather and his granddaughter were not white (though I'm not disclosing any more than that because it is irrelevant).  And, I bring this up for a VERY specific reason.

When he made his comment regarding my parenting, it added to the social awkwardness that invisibly already existed.  The situation became instantly uncomfortable.  I don't know about you, but I don't interact with elderly non-white men on a usual basis.  And I'm just going out on a limb, but I'm gonna guess this gentleman doesn't encounter too many youngish hipster white moms like myself.

All this to say, I can attempt to understand his reasoning for not just confronting me about the situation, no matter how much I wish that he would have handled that situation differently.  I couldn't help but think, "Just TELL ME TO MY FACE what happened!" in the moment.  But, looking back and putting myself in his shoes, I probably would've done what he did too and passively addressed the situation in an extremely stern and obvious way.

Here's my point:  It would have been a LOT easier for me to get pissed off, turn my back, and wait the 10 seconds for them to leave.  It would have been a LOT less uncomfortable for me to ignore his remark and justify the dismissal since he didn't know the "whole story".

But, I don't live in a world where these uncomfortable barriers are going to disappear without ACTION.  So, I took action.  I stepped in.  I took the chance to embarrass myself in a split-second and decided it was worth the confrontation in order to reach out and make things right.  This isn't because I'm extra-wise or super-insightful (again, none of this even registered with me until hours later) but, because I felt the opportunity present itself and it was what I would want to have happen if the tables were turned.

I'm not raising bullies.  And I'll never get the chance to tell that gentleman how loving and sweet my little hellions really can be.  He will never know that these silly girls are raised in a home where we talk to them about equality and compassion and the love of Jesus.  He has no idea that I was doing homework about studying racial inequality in the Family Life Cycle (no joke)...but, one thing is for sure:  he didn't leave brokenhearted and angry or without recognition.

Here's the thing.  All that "whole story" business - it just doesn't matter.  The entire reason I even share it with you is to bring you up-to-speed on the full context of the situation.  I'm guessing several of you have been in similar circumstances; and, if not, then you might be someday soon.  All of our kids are gonna hurt other kids' feelings (intentionally or unintentionally) at some point.  That's life.

But, just like it "didn't matter" that Matilda didn't intend on hurting that girl, it truly "didn't matter" that the grandfather knew the whole story.  The hurt here and now is just about all we can handle.  The good news is, it's not so entirely outside of our grasp to make a difference.

The next time I'm in an uncomfortable situation where my impulse is to dodge the confrontation, I'm going to do my best to take the leap and reach out and do my best to destroy that wall of social barriers.  I want to plow through those inhibitions with the compassionate might that only God can grant me.

Yeah, it was my kid who was guilty.  Yeah, it made me "look bad" in the moment.  Yeah, it was mortifying at the time.

But, as my little girl has repeated the experience back to me and reiterated the lessons that she's learning through it, I'm motivated to remember that I'm raising more than just a silly little girl.

I'm not raising bullies...I'm raising bulldozers.

Waiting

How many of you are waiting on something?

Maybe you are waiting on a job, like we are.  Maybe you are waiting on getting pregnant.  Waiting on an adoption to go through.  Waiting on a call from your doctor.  Waiting for your boyfriend to propose. Waiting to hear back from that school/program/organization you're hoping to get into.  Waiting on your order at Chipotle.  (Hey, it counts!)

Chances are, there are several out there who are waiting, waiting, waiting to hear from God about something that will epically change your life, for better or for worse.  My husband has been unemployed for over two months now, and this is not the first time God has made us wait and wonder as to what His plan may hold.  Still, patience continues to be a quality that I'm constantly in need of.

About five years ago, we were waiting for another reason.  We were trying to get pregnant.  We had been extraordinarily deliberate in our plan to have a baby, seeking the counsel of others personally and professionally to help us in the decision to jump into the murky and unknown waters of "trying".

Months went by, and I was still not pregnant.  There had never been any fertility issue on either side of our family, so when we first jumped into the ring we naively supposed we'd be making grand announcements within the first few months.  And, so, we began down an emotional roller coaster that kept us on our toes two-weeks-at-a-time.

In effort for my husband to truly grasp the emotional toll that this process was taking on me, I remember making an analogy for him.  Not getting pregnant, for me, is like unsuccessfully job hunting for a man. It's like, every time I see a pregnant woman out there, I think "Why HER?"  Clearly, I'm qualified for the position!  I'm perfect for it, I have all the experience and credentials I need.  And every time I'm not pregnant it's like someone rejecting you for a job you're overqualified for.

I can remember a conversation with a close confidant about 9 months into our journey.  I remember telling her how, when we'd first began to try to get pregnant, this would have been the month we had a baby.  It was weird.  I ached and longed to hold my own child, so it felt like there was no reason at all for God to have delayed the gratification.  I remember this person telling me "But, just think, when you finally do get pregnant, it will all make sense.  You'll look back and think 'Ah!  This is why God made us wait!'"

Now, I know that there are readers out there who are experiencing infertility, even waiting, who are currently in the midst of devastation.  I know that my story can seem like nothing compared to others who go through years and years of trials and hardships - so, I am in NO way trying to say that I know how that feels.  I don't.

But, when you are in the midst of it - when I was crying out to God on my bathroom floor after getting my period each month, when I was weeping and cursing and questioning "Why not me? Why not now?"...all there is is either "baby" or "no baby"...there's no timeframe or logic or end in sight.  So, all that to say, the year it took us to get pregnant felt like an eternity to me.

The year came to an end, and my first "fertility" appointment got changed to a "pre-natal" appointment. And even after I gave birth to a perfectly gorgeous baby 9 months later...I still had no idea why God made us wait.  I still wondered why in the world I couldn't have just surpassed all that pain and ended up with my gorgeous baby the year before?  What difference did it make, God, really?

Well...fast-forward to today, and here's one difference:  My husband has spent the last few months getting rejected by jobs he's overqualified for.  And I know just how he feels.

I can't tell you all the reasons God had for the way it all rolled out.  I can't tell you how many lives it altered or how much we really grew as humans or as spouses through that journey.  Some things are simply immeasurable.

But, I can tell you that now I know what it feels like to be married to someone who feels understood because of a time that God brought us through together.  I can tell you that there is a reason (probably many) for the waiting - and that it is not in vain.

Growth is rarely comfortable.  Change is almost never convenient.  But, dependance on God, no matter how long it takes, is always, always productive.  It's not that I have-to-believe-this-cause-I-have-no-other-choice.  My life is a testament to His follow-through!  He is faithful to answer and be with us no matter what the answer is.

You are not alone in your waiting, friends.  And your waiting is not wasted.

Wait on!