So many times, when people find out that I am pregnant for the fourth time in four years -- and that we don't plan on stopping at four -- they will say things like, "I have my hands full with (one, two)...I don't know how you will manage." I always wonder if they are really asking how I will manage, or why I will manage. If they are truly looking for the logistics, I'd be glad to spout them out. Yet something in their eyes makes me think that they are more curious as to why I manage. Surely anybody (especially one who is already a parent) can see that it does cost us more money, less sleep, and more personal sacrifices with each child we have. I think what is really being asked is why continue to sacrifice? What motivates me to keep going? Why lose more sleep? Why spend more money? Why forfeit years more of your life as you put these little ones above yourself?
The answer is simple.
LOVE.
My husband and I absolutely love everything about having kids. We love making babies, we love me being pregnant, we love the birthing process (well, it's a love/hate thing on my part), and we love those first sleepless days of getting acquainted with the look and feel of the little face that we have already loved since before they entered the world. We love first coos and first smiles and first steps and first words. We love having those sleepy babies become active toddlers, active toddlers become curious preschoolers, and curious preschoolers become well-rounded little kids (I'll get back with you when those kids start becoming teenagers....). There are countless sacrifices along the way, but those sacrifices are made out of our passion for our babies, and -- therefore -- we even love the sacrifices. My husband and I love being a team in this, working together to raise these tiny humans according to God's Word, and it brings us closer and closer to each other the more we go through.
This Thanksgiving weekend was a doozy. We had four houses to go to in a matter of two days. None of our children got naps of any reasonable length, I was staying up late working on some craft projects and cooking that needed to be done before the Thanksgiving meals, and -- the climax of the chaos -- my daughter broke her wrist and needed to get a cast. I think I averaged about three hours of sleep per night for five days straight. It was a trial and test of how much this 7.5-months-pregnant body could bear.
What I am learning is that God not only doesn't give us more than we can bear, and not only will He carry us in those times where we are running on less than fumes, but that He will draw us closer to Him through it all:
As I was walking literally in circles because I was so deliriously sleep-deprived that I couldn't even focus, my groggy mind was reminded of Christ being weary and needing rest, yet caring for His flock instead -- and suddenly my fatigue seemed as nothing.
As I was tempted to moan and complain about my achy pregnant body as I carried my fussy 15-month-old in the wee hours of the morning, the image of Christ carrying His cross AFTER having endured flogging flooded my mind -- and instantly my pain seemed minor and trivial.
And as I held the trembling body of my frightened and hurting four-year-old in the ER at midnight, I fought back tears as I heard in my soul "If you -- her flawed Mother-- can love her this much, how much more do you think I -- your perfect Father -- love you?".
Having many children is not for everyone. Having any children at all is not for everyone. The sacrifices specific to child-bearing and child-rearing are not the cross that all are meant to bear. But it is one way that I am learning to take up my cross and follow Him. All Christians are called to pick up their cross and follow Him. That cross comes in many shapes, sizes, life stages, and situations specific to each believer. Right now, my cross is that of being a wife and mother, and I will attempt to bear it joyfully and selflessly through Christ.
If He could sacrifice His life for His children, I can manage to sacrifice a few hours of peace and quiet here and there for mine.
He sacrificed out of love for me. I sacrifice out of love for them....and love for Him. These sacrifices are sweet and sacred when made through Him, and the rewards are beyond any pain that must be endured.
Love is always worth the sacrifice!
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Making New Family Traditions
This year we decided we would start a new tradition for Thanksgiving and make a family hand turkey. We had so much fun working on this simple craft together, and the kids got a kick out of the fact that Daddy's hand barely fit on a piece of construction paper! :o) I want to laminate it so that it will last through the years, and we hope to make one each year, showing how our family has grown -- both individually and with each new little addition!
Daddy's hand is in the back in dark blue, Mommy's is red, Abby's is orange, Corbin's is light blue, and Daniel's is green. If anybody has any ideas for how we can include Samuel (and any other additions that are in utero for future hand turkeys), we'd love to hear them!
(I used paint.net to color out our last name -- just in case you were wondering why all the blank spots).
I pray everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving, filled with family, fun, and food; but most importantly, filled with a sense of thankfulness and awe at all our Great Provider has done for us!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!
Monday, November 16, 2009
Now Why Did I Come Back Here??
Do you ever walk to a certain part of the house, only to realize that in the 20 seconds it took you to get there you have completely forgotten why on earth you were headed in that direction in the first place? If you are lucky you will have something in your hands to tip you off as to what you might have been doing a half a minute earlier. If not, it's back to the drawing board, only to remember what it was you were doing the second you get back to the other side of the house. If you haven't experienced this, please just politely nod your head so I won't feel crazy. Thank you.
It has been so much fun watching my younger sisters become moms, because now I have someone to feel crazy with! One of my sisters has dubbed her memory lapses a "curtain across my brain." She'll start saying or doing something, forget, and then say, "sorry, my curtain went up." I love it, because I think my curtain has permanently been up for the last five years. What can I say; misery loves company!
I have had an article about just this phenomenon saved forever, and I love to read it every now and then to remind myself that I'm not alone behind this curtain of scatterbrainedness (I though I had just invented that word, until I Googled it and saw that -- ironically enough -- many a mother before me has penned it to describe her fuzzy brain state).
Wait...what was I saying again? Oh yeah...the article. I wish I could find out who the author was -- but I'm sure even if I found her name, my curtain would go up long before I'd get a chance to write it down....
I don't think it had a title when I originally read it (or if it did I forgot it...imagine that!), so I have it labeled as:
"Why My House is Dirty"
(Author Unknown)
"I decide to do the laundry. As I start toward the basement, I notice that there are cheerios all over the floor and my house keys are in the cereal bowl. I decide to pick up the cheerios before I do the laundry. I lay my keys down on the counter, put the cheerios in the trash can under the counter, and notice that the trash can is full. So, I decide to take out the trash. But then I think, since I'm going to be near the mailbox when I take out the trash I may as well pay the bills first. I take my check book off thetable, and see that there is only one check left, my extra checks are in my desk in the office, so I go to my desk where I find a sippy cup full of juice. I'm going to look for my checks, but first I decide I should put the sippy cup in the refrigerator to keep it cold. As I head toward the kitchen with the sippy cup a plant on the counter catches my eye--it needs to be watered. I set the sippy cup on the counter, and I discover baby wipes that I've been searching for all morning. I decide I better put them back in the bathroom, but first I'm going to water the plants. I set the wipes back down, fill a container with water and suddenly I spot the TV remote, left on the kitchen table. I realize that when I go to watch TV, I will be looking for the remote, but I won't remember that it's on the kitchen table, so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I'll water the plants. I splash some water on the plant, but most of it spills on the floor. So, I set the remote back down, get some paper towels and wipe up the spill. Then I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do.
At the end of the day: the laundry isn't washed, the bills aren't paid, there is a warm cup of juice sitting on the counter, the plants aren't watered, there is still only one check in my check book, I can't find the remote, I can't find the wipes, and I don't remember what I did with my keys.
Then when I try to figure out why nothing got done today, I'm really baffled because I know I was busy all day long, and I'm really tired.
I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try to get some help for it, but first I'll check my e-mail."
PREACH IT, SISTER!
What's even better is when your husband walks in, exhausted from a day of hard, obviously PRODUCTIVE labor, and you can tell he is wondering why on earth you seem so tired, too (even though he is smart enough to know not to say anything). Hey, just because I wasn't that productive doesn't mean I didn't work. The simple act of attempting to work is work in and of itself when you have a herd of toddlers tagging along on your heels and undoing everything you just did!
One of the biggest hurdles for me to get over as a stay-at-home mother was the feeling that nothing I ever did was productive. I clean the toilets; a two year old boy misses. I wash the dishes; we eat thirty minutes later and the sink is full. I get all the laundry folded; a four year old girl plays dress-up and unfolds everything in her drawers. I have told my husband on many occasions in the past that this has to be the most mind-numbingly repetitive job on the face of God's green earth! My biggest temptation was always to throw my hands up and say, "What's the point!?", leaving things in a mess because I knew they would get back to that point no matter how hard I worked.
For me, I'm finding that the joy has to be in the process, not in the results. The results vary and are often short-lived, but the work is always there to be done. Doing the dishes is not about having an empty sink, but about serving my family and my Lord in the smallest of tasks. If I only pick up toys to have a clean floor, there is never any reward or motivation to do so again. But if I pick those toys up as an act of service, the reward is joy overflowing, an eternal reward beyond anything tangible this world could offer.
So I will keep sweeping up the green beans, even as my 14-month-old throws more down just because he can. The point is not to have a clean floor (because I'm fairly certain my grout will never be any shade close to white again), but a clean heart. There can be no perfection in a home this full of little ones, but there is perfection in the grace of Christ, and a peace that surpasses all understanding!
Now...what was I supposed to be doing next......?
It has been so much fun watching my younger sisters become moms, because now I have someone to feel crazy with! One of my sisters has dubbed her memory lapses a "curtain across my brain." She'll start saying or doing something, forget, and then say, "sorry, my curtain went up." I love it, because I think my curtain has permanently been up for the last five years. What can I say; misery loves company!
I have had an article about just this phenomenon saved forever, and I love to read it every now and then to remind myself that I'm not alone behind this curtain of scatterbrainedness (I though I had just invented that word, until I Googled it and saw that -- ironically enough -- many a mother before me has penned it to describe her fuzzy brain state).
Wait...what was I saying again? Oh yeah...the article. I wish I could find out who the author was -- but I'm sure even if I found her name, my curtain would go up long before I'd get a chance to write it down....
I don't think it had a title when I originally read it (or if it did I forgot it...imagine that!), so I have it labeled as:
"Why My House is Dirty"
(Author Unknown)
"I decide to do the laundry. As I start toward the basement, I notice that there are cheerios all over the floor and my house keys are in the cereal bowl. I decide to pick up the cheerios before I do the laundry. I lay my keys down on the counter, put the cheerios in the trash can under the counter, and notice that the trash can is full. So, I decide to take out the trash. But then I think, since I'm going to be near the mailbox when I take out the trash I may as well pay the bills first. I take my check book off thetable, and see that there is only one check left, my extra checks are in my desk in the office, so I go to my desk where I find a sippy cup full of juice. I'm going to look for my checks, but first I decide I should put the sippy cup in the refrigerator to keep it cold. As I head toward the kitchen with the sippy cup a plant on the counter catches my eye--it needs to be watered. I set the sippy cup on the counter, and I discover baby wipes that I've been searching for all morning. I decide I better put them back in the bathroom, but first I'm going to water the plants. I set the wipes back down, fill a container with water and suddenly I spot the TV remote, left on the kitchen table. I realize that when I go to watch TV, I will be looking for the remote, but I won't remember that it's on the kitchen table, so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I'll water the plants. I splash some water on the plant, but most of it spills on the floor. So, I set the remote back down, get some paper towels and wipe up the spill. Then I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do.
At the end of the day: the laundry isn't washed, the bills aren't paid, there is a warm cup of juice sitting on the counter, the plants aren't watered, there is still only one check in my check book, I can't find the remote, I can't find the wipes, and I don't remember what I did with my keys.
Then when I try to figure out why nothing got done today, I'm really baffled because I know I was busy all day long, and I'm really tired.
I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try to get some help for it, but first I'll check my e-mail."
PREACH IT, SISTER!
What's even better is when your husband walks in, exhausted from a day of hard, obviously PRODUCTIVE labor, and you can tell he is wondering why on earth you seem so tired, too (even though he is smart enough to know not to say anything). Hey, just because I wasn't that productive doesn't mean I didn't work. The simple act of attempting to work is work in and of itself when you have a herd of toddlers tagging along on your heels and undoing everything you just did!
One of the biggest hurdles for me to get over as a stay-at-home mother was the feeling that nothing I ever did was productive. I clean the toilets; a two year old boy misses. I wash the dishes; we eat thirty minutes later and the sink is full. I get all the laundry folded; a four year old girl plays dress-up and unfolds everything in her drawers. I have told my husband on many occasions in the past that this has to be the most mind-numbingly repetitive job on the face of God's green earth! My biggest temptation was always to throw my hands up and say, "What's the point!?", leaving things in a mess because I knew they would get back to that point no matter how hard I worked.
For me, I'm finding that the joy has to be in the process, not in the results. The results vary and are often short-lived, but the work is always there to be done. Doing the dishes is not about having an empty sink, but about serving my family and my Lord in the smallest of tasks. If I only pick up toys to have a clean floor, there is never any reward or motivation to do so again. But if I pick those toys up as an act of service, the reward is joy overflowing, an eternal reward beyond anything tangible this world could offer.
So I will keep sweeping up the green beans, even as my 14-month-old throws more down just because he can. The point is not to have a clean floor (because I'm fairly certain my grout will never be any shade close to white again), but a clean heart. There can be no perfection in a home this full of little ones, but there is perfection in the grace of Christ, and a peace that surpasses all understanding!
Now...what was I supposed to be doing next......?
Sunday, November 15, 2009
The Brain Has Taken Over!
I have been having so much fun working on my "Mommy's Brain" binder, that I completely forgot about blogging. Even Facebook has lost its appeal now that I have this project to work on! Now that it is almost fully assembled, I'm excited to be able to share my progress with you!
There has been one minor adjustment since I last wrote. While I still lovingly call the binder "Mommy's Brain" when I speak of it, those words are nowhere to be found on the binder itself. I was finding that the cutesy, slightly sarcastic name was not fitting in with the antique/chic look that was coming together. So instead, I put "My Blessed Mess" on the spine of the binder and some scripture on the front. However, for all intents and purposes, it is still my brain!
Rather than try to explain every single page in my binder, I took a bunch of pictures for you. I'll try and comment on what is contained within each section (when it isn't obvious). Hope you like it!
There has been one minor adjustment since I last wrote. While I still lovingly call the binder "Mommy's Brain" when I speak of it, those words are nowhere to be found on the binder itself. I was finding that the cutesy, slightly sarcastic name was not fitting in with the antique/chic look that was coming together. So instead, I put "My Blessed Mess" on the spine of the binder and some scripture on the front. However, for all intents and purposes, it is still my brain!
Rather than try to explain every single page in my binder, I took a bunch of pictures for you. I'll try and comment on what is contained within each section (when it isn't obvious). Hope you like it!
The spine.
The front cover with Proverbs 31:30 and a picture of a pioneer mother working alongside her toddler.
The entire binder from the side. It is a 2"- 3 ring binder. I may need to upgrade to a 3", however!
A zipper pouch containing: pens, dry and wet erase markers, erasing cloth, paper clips, tape, stamps, scissors, etc.
The "Routines & Cleaning" section has a list of my cleaning schedules and daily routines (this does not include calendar activities, just the things I do on a daily/weekly/monthly basis). It also a Battle Plan for Recovering the Disastrous Home (adapted from this article).
My "Weekly Home Checlist" inside of the "Routines & Cleaning" section:
Also inside of the "Routines & Cleaning" section: my daily chore schedule and morning, afternoon, and evening routines):
The "Daily Events & Extra Tasks" section has a family calendar, as well as my list of extra daily "To-Do's":
"Meals & Groceries" has my weekly meal menu, grocery list on a page organized by location in the grocery store, coupons, a running list of my price point on usual items we buy, a master grocery list of things we buy on a regular basis, meal ideas, coupons, sales sheets, etc.
This section is pretty self-explanatory! Although, I should mention that only tested and loved recipes make it into the binder. All others remain with the other recipes and cookbooks on my counter.
The "Homeschooling" section has my daily lesson plans, scope and sequences, worksheets for the coming day and week, articles on schooling, etc.
"Books & Reading" contains our running list of library books and due dates, our wish list for our home library, misc. articles I am reading, etc.
"Goals & Plans" has our project lists, my husband's "Honey-Do" list, brainstorming on goals we have for the future, my "worry list" (unfinished projects that are nagging me), etc.
"Motivation & Inspiration" has my running list of memory verses/chapters, articles/poetry/quotes that inspire me, photos I love, etc.
The "Business" section is for anything related to my husband's business (finances, tax info, client info, receipts, etc.).
This section is for our personal finances: budget, bills, account info, etc.
"Emergency Preparedness" has a list of emergency contacts, lists of items we have and/or need to get for emergency situations, articles on disaster preparation, etc.
Self-explanatory -- this contains important medical info.
"Contact Info. & Messages" has phone numbers and addresses, as well as any phone messages that I need to write down.
The "Gift Giving & Receiving" section has records of gifts given, gifts received, thank you's sent and needed to be sent, Christmas cards sent/received, a calendar with all family birthdays and anniversaries, gift ideas, etc.
"Miscellaneous" is the catch-all for anything that doesn't fit in the other eighty-five million categories! ;o)
And finally, the back section contains extra page protectors, notebook paper, graphing paper, and printer paper.
WHEW!! It was almost as tiring blogging all of that as it was making it!!
I have to say, I have read some skeptical articles and criticisms of home management binders by those who say that they are just an excuse to feel organized on paper while still living in chaos; that is definitely NOT true for our home! In the short time that I have been using the binder, there has been a remarkable improvement in the efficiency, order, and cleanliness of our home! Something about knowing where everything is and having a plan set in place has given me such peace -- and even JOY -- in my homekeeping! I know it is not for everyone, and I am in awe of the women who can juggle everything without having to have a structured plan laid out before them, but it is a lifesaver for me! I knew I needed to find a system to keep our lives on track if we were going to continue having babies at God's timing -- AND homeschooling them all -- and I feel as if this binder is literally the answer to my prayers! My husband even offered me praise yesterday for how wonderfully I am doing in my keeping of the home....what a sweet reward!
I better go walk the walk and not just talk the talk! I have to get off of the computer and go reboot the laundry before we head to bed. Hope yours was a blessed weekend!
Saturday, November 7, 2009
If I Only Had a Brain
(written on October 24, 2008)
There are so many ways as a mother that you can feel as if you’ve “lost” yourself:
Last night however, a little encouragement changed that all.
I had taken the kids over to my Dad and Step-Mom’s house to run off some energy. We stayed a little later than I had planned and the kids were at their crazy point of exhaustion by the time I was loading them up in the car. My Dad watched with an amused smile while I tried to wrestle all three kids into their carseats. As I had one child hanging upside down by the foot over the back of the seat, another turning the windshield wipers and radio on and off, and my “free” hand holding a pacifier in an infant’s mouth, my Dad teased that he could have driven to San Antonio and back in the amount of time it takes for me to load up my crew. I laughed and body slammed a few children into their restraints before shutting the minivan door. I was beat and so ready to get everyone home and body-slammed into bed. I grabbed for my keys. What? No keys. As I was talking to my Dad with intermittent scolds or reassurances directed towards the back seat, I dug frantically through my diaper bag. No keys. I put the pacifier back in the baby’s mouth as I looked on the floor. No keys. I was getting more and more frustrated the longer I looked, until finally I sat down in a flustered heap on the running board and shouted, “I USED TO BE SMART…just for the record!!!” This cracked my Dad up, but I was only half-joking! I said, “No, I’m serious Dad! I feel like I only have 10% of my brain left! I can’t even remember where I put the keys I was just holding in my hand!!”
My Dad chuckled a little bit more before he looked at me and said, “Amy, you don’t see it. You don’t even realize that you are doing ten things at once. In a way, you are using only 10% of your brain, but you are using 10% for ten different tasks. That’s pretty amazing.”
Simple words, obvious logic, and possibly just flattery, but it was as if that hole in my identity was filled by what he said. Yes. I AM doing ten things at once! I do ten things at once all day, every day! I mean, think about it; three kids ages three and under. Just focusing on keeping them alive is a minimum of three separate thoughts at one time! I’m actually doing complex multi-tasking!
PRAISE THE LORD!! I HAVE A BRAIN!!
I knew before my Dad comforted me that I was multi-tasking; it is fairly obvious. But my Dad is someone who works in a highly-intelligent field where he talks every day with people whose IQ is higher than the balance of my checking account. To have him then turn and acknowledge that my “profession” requires intelligence, too, was priceless. My Daddy is one smart man, and that is an understatement. Knowing that he doesn’t think I have “lost” my brain was needed, and very much appreciated.
I now have a gain for what seemed to be an irreconcilable loss:
It is true that I am no longer smart enough to spout out pi past six decimal places.
But I can make a pie while nursing a baby and counting to three and pulling a toddler off of the bookshelf and scheduling a doctor’s appointment and picking up toys with my toes.
Now THAT is pretty dang intelligent, if you ask me!
I have learned through this that there really is no true loss in parenting. For everything we sacrifice, every part of our identity that we shed, something more beautiful grows in its place.
My kids will grow up caring less if I know what are the correct usages of “compliment” and “complement.” They will always care, however, that I was never too busy to offer them a compliment, even amidst the chaos of my daily life.
My body has been changed. My experiences have been changed. My brain has been changed. My heart has been changed.
But my identity has not. There has been no loss. I am still Amy. I am just an ever growing, ever increasingly sanctified, ever changing version of Amy.
And I like this Amy even better than the one with the rockin’ body!
- Nights of uninterrupted sleep and mornings of lying in bed with nothing to do? History.
- That rockin’ body you had in highschool? Ha!
- Having a conversation with another adult without having to constantly pause and yell, “Don’t eat that!”? Just a memory.
- I may not be able to sleep on my own schedule, but those sleepless times are filled in with snuggling babies against my breast.
- That rockin’ body has lost all of its rockiness. Yet I wouldn’t trade every stretch mark in the world if it meant I would no longer have the memories of carrying precious life in my womb.
- And for every interrupted adult conversation, there are ten priceless conversations with curious and wonder-filled toddlers to make up for it.
- I could remember numbers and facts forever.
- Logic was second nature to me; Spock my idol.
- Deep, thought-provoking debates of all things spiritual, intellectual, philosophical were a way of life.
- Rather than effortlessly remembering numbers and facts, I’m struggling to remember where we last saw the purple sippy cup with the green lid.
- Gone is logic and rationalization. Now I can barely hear myself think at all, much less a whole intelligent thought!
- Those deep, meaningful debates don’t stand a chance. I can’t even out-debate a three year old, for goodness sakes!!
Last night however, a little encouragement changed that all.
I had taken the kids over to my Dad and Step-Mom’s house to run off some energy. We stayed a little later than I had planned and the kids were at their crazy point of exhaustion by the time I was loading them up in the car. My Dad watched with an amused smile while I tried to wrestle all three kids into their carseats. As I had one child hanging upside down by the foot over the back of the seat, another turning the windshield wipers and radio on and off, and my “free” hand holding a pacifier in an infant’s mouth, my Dad teased that he could have driven to San Antonio and back in the amount of time it takes for me to load up my crew. I laughed and body slammed a few children into their restraints before shutting the minivan door. I was beat and so ready to get everyone home and body-slammed into bed. I grabbed for my keys. What? No keys. As I was talking to my Dad with intermittent scolds or reassurances directed towards the back seat, I dug frantically through my diaper bag. No keys. I put the pacifier back in the baby’s mouth as I looked on the floor. No keys. I was getting more and more frustrated the longer I looked, until finally I sat down in a flustered heap on the running board and shouted, “I USED TO BE SMART…just for the record!!!” This cracked my Dad up, but I was only half-joking! I said, “No, I’m serious Dad! I feel like I only have 10% of my brain left! I can’t even remember where I put the keys I was just holding in my hand!!”
My Dad chuckled a little bit more before he looked at me and said, “Amy, you don’t see it. You don’t even realize that you are doing ten things at once. In a way, you are using only 10% of your brain, but you are using 10% for ten different tasks. That’s pretty amazing.”
Simple words, obvious logic, and possibly just flattery, but it was as if that hole in my identity was filled by what he said. Yes. I AM doing ten things at once! I do ten things at once all day, every day! I mean, think about it; three kids ages three and under. Just focusing on keeping them alive is a minimum of three separate thoughts at one time! I’m actually doing complex multi-tasking!
PRAISE THE LORD!! I HAVE A BRAIN!!
I knew before my Dad comforted me that I was multi-tasking; it is fairly obvious. But my Dad is someone who works in a highly-intelligent field where he talks every day with people whose IQ is higher than the balance of my checking account. To have him then turn and acknowledge that my “profession” requires intelligence, too, was priceless. My Daddy is one smart man, and that is an understatement. Knowing that he doesn’t think I have “lost” my brain was needed, and very much appreciated.
I now have a gain for what seemed to be an irreconcilable loss:
It is true that I am no longer smart enough to spout out pi past six decimal places.
But I can make a pie while nursing a baby and counting to three and pulling a toddler off of the bookshelf and scheduling a doctor’s appointment and picking up toys with my toes.
Now THAT is pretty dang intelligent, if you ask me!
I have learned through this that there really is no true loss in parenting. For everything we sacrifice, every part of our identity that we shed, something more beautiful grows in its place.
My kids will grow up caring less if I know what are the correct usages of “compliment” and “complement.” They will always care, however, that I was never too busy to offer them a compliment, even amidst the chaos of my daily life.
My body has been changed. My experiences have been changed. My brain has been changed. My heart has been changed.
But my identity has not. There has been no loss. I am still Amy. I am just an ever growing, ever increasingly sanctified, ever changing version of Amy.
And I like this Amy even better than the one with the rockin’ body!
“But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.”
Philippians 3:7-9
Friday, November 6, 2009
Extreme Mommy Makeover - Brain Edition
So apparently my ability to maintain organization spans the time of about one year. At that point, my organization seems to expire and I have to reboot. Right before Daniel was born (he is now 14 months old), I had my life 100% in order. EVERY room of the house was clean and organized (oh wait, the garage has never been clean and organized, but we're not going to officially count that, thank you very much). Over the last 15 months that cleanliness has very slowly, almost sneakily, been disintegrating before my very eyes. Now, after nearly a month of battling lingering (minor) illnesses, we have reached the point where a major overhaul is no longer optional. We have reached non-functional status, and something has to change!
For almost two years now I have been wanting to put together some kind of binder to organize all aspects of my life, and provide me with a plan to keep it that way. After some research, I've found that these are quite common amongst homemakers -- especially those who homeschool their children. With FlyLady they call it a "Control Journal." I've also heard it called a "Home Management Binder", "A Homekeeping Journal," and a "Household Organizer", among other things. All of these names lacked something for me, though. Control Journal sounded too, well, controlling; and the other names I found just felt too business-like for me. While being a wife and mommy is my business, it's so much more than that. I thought about sweet titles like "The Helpmeet's Helper" or "The HomeKeeper's Heart". These, however, also fell short in conveying what I need. I don't neep help; I need a whole lot more than a little help (unless we're talking psychological help -- that I probably do need!). I also don't need more heart -- my heart is completely wrapped up in all I do. No, heart is absolutely not the problem. So, at long last, I came up with something that fits.
I have decided that I will call my binder "Mommy's Brain." Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?
You see, here is my thinking: I've lost my ability to think. Being pregnant and/or nursing literally non-stop for the last 5 years has turned my brain to mush. I need a brain transplant, and since that medical technology is not available yet, I figure a supplemental brain on paper is going to have to be the next best thing.
My plan is to make the binder the brain of our home. It will have the master plan for all things that fall under my realm of responsibility (which sometimes feels like everything in the world). It will have meal plans, lesson plans, cleaning schedules, grocery lists, bills, stamps, medical information, phone numbers, memory verses, prayer requests, emergency contact information, kids' daily schedules, lists for gifts given/received, etc. etc. You have a question about our home? The Brain will know the answer.
Beyond just the organizational plan that I hope this will bring, there are two other benefits that I believe might come from this.
The first is that, by putting the tedius and mundane tasks that occupy most of my brain down on paper, perhaps I can clear some space in between my ears for more pleasant thoughts. If I can hit the "delete" button on my brain as far as the little things go, I might have room for some real, deep, grown-up thoughts! Maybe I can even read a book without simultaneously trying to recall what items were on that grocery list that my son just used to shred up as feed for his plush horse...
The second benefit that I foresee would be that my husband will now be able to actually look inside of my brain. When I have a baby, get sick, or just need a little extra help, he can open up the pages of my brain and be able to see what needs to be done -- without waking me up or asking me a million questions or requiring me to walk right beside him. God bless the man, he is one heck of a husband and daddy! But he has no brain for household goings-on. Many times I have wished that I could just download my brain into his so that when he does try to help me he can actually do it the "right" way (i.e.: my way). This will not only lessen my stress, but his, as well! He's told me that one of the reasons he doesn't help out with housework is because he has no idea how to and it intimidates him. Well, what's mine is yours, babe -- and that now can include my brain!
I found a few web pages to get me started with some ideas and want to pass them on in case anybody else is needing to create a supplemental brain for their home. Here are some different blogs and resource pages I found with great ideas:
I hope to be able to post pictures later once I progress a little further with this project. If anyone out in internet land has already made a binder, or has any great tips or pictures, please do share them!
Until next time, Happy Homekeeping!
For almost two years now I have been wanting to put together some kind of binder to organize all aspects of my life, and provide me with a plan to keep it that way. After some research, I've found that these are quite common amongst homemakers -- especially those who homeschool their children. With FlyLady they call it a "Control Journal." I've also heard it called a "Home Management Binder", "A Homekeeping Journal," and a "Household Organizer", among other things. All of these names lacked something for me, though. Control Journal sounded too, well, controlling; and the other names I found just felt too business-like for me. While being a wife and mommy is my business, it's so much more than that. I thought about sweet titles like "The Helpmeet's Helper" or "The HomeKeeper's Heart". These, however, also fell short in conveying what I need. I don't neep help; I need a whole lot more than a little help (unless we're talking psychological help -- that I probably do need!). I also don't need more heart -- my heart is completely wrapped up in all I do. No, heart is absolutely not the problem. So, at long last, I came up with something that fits.
I have decided that I will call my binder "Mommy's Brain." Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?
You see, here is my thinking: I've lost my ability to think. Being pregnant and/or nursing literally non-stop for the last 5 years has turned my brain to mush. I need a brain transplant, and since that medical technology is not available yet, I figure a supplemental brain on paper is going to have to be the next best thing.
My plan is to make the binder the brain of our home. It will have the master plan for all things that fall under my realm of responsibility (which sometimes feels like everything in the world). It will have meal plans, lesson plans, cleaning schedules, grocery lists, bills, stamps, medical information, phone numbers, memory verses, prayer requests, emergency contact information, kids' daily schedules, lists for gifts given/received, etc. etc. You have a question about our home? The Brain will know the answer.
Beyond just the organizational plan that I hope this will bring, there are two other benefits that I believe might come from this.
The first is that, by putting the tedius and mundane tasks that occupy most of my brain down on paper, perhaps I can clear some space in between my ears for more pleasant thoughts. If I can hit the "delete" button on my brain as far as the little things go, I might have room for some real, deep, grown-up thoughts! Maybe I can even read a book without simultaneously trying to recall what items were on that grocery list that my son just used to shred up as feed for his plush horse...
The second benefit that I foresee would be that my husband will now be able to actually look inside of my brain. When I have a baby, get sick, or just need a little extra help, he can open up the pages of my brain and be able to see what needs to be done -- without waking me up or asking me a million questions or requiring me to walk right beside him. God bless the man, he is one heck of a husband and daddy! But he has no brain for household goings-on. Many times I have wished that I could just download my brain into his so that when he does try to help me he can actually do it the "right" way (i.e.: my way). This will not only lessen my stress, but his, as well! He's told me that one of the reasons he doesn't help out with housework is because he has no idea how to and it intimidates him. Well, what's mine is yours, babe -- and that now can include my brain!
I found a few web pages to get me started with some ideas and want to pass them on in case anybody else is needing to create a supplemental brain for their home. Here are some different blogs and resource pages I found with great ideas:
I hope to be able to post pictures later once I progress a little further with this project. If anyone out in internet land has already made a binder, or has any great tips or pictures, please do share them!
Until next time, Happy Homekeeping!
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Whose Wife Am I?
Boys are just an entirely different breed, let me tell ya! I have lots of sisters and grew up pretty used to the drama induced by a house raging with feminine hormones. My oldest child is a girl, and such an easy little girl, at that! Just when I was starting to get confident (cocky?) about my brilliant parenting abilities, God let His sense of humor loose. By February I will have had three boys in three years. Having three boys under the age of four is not even the scary part; I can't bring myself to ponder having three teenage boys that close together without wincing. I am praying now just thinking about it.
One thing I am learning about little boys is that they are just men in miniature form. Well, either that, or men are just boys in giant form. Whichever it is, there's not much difference!
My 2 and 1/2 year old son, Corbin, is so boy it's not even funny. No, I mean it really isn't funny -- he scares me to death with his wild antics and dangerous exploits! Lately he has been paying an extra amount of attention to his Daddy and trying to mirror him, as he always has. However, the difference now is that there seems to be an air of competition to his imitations. Let me share with you what occurred at the breakfast table this morning:
Phil had just finished saying the blessing and he leaned over to give me a kiss before we started eating. Corbin looked him dead in the eye, frowning, and said, "Don't you kiss my Momma, she MINE!".
My husband, imitating Corbin's macho tone of voice, said, "No way, boy....she is MINE!".
Corbin: "She MY Mommy!"
Phil: "Well she's MY wife!"
Corbin: "No, she MY wife!"
Phil: "I married her, she's MY wife!"
Corbin: "No, I married her...she MINE!"
Phil: "Boy, I bought and paid for her and she is MINE!"
Corbin: "No, I bought paid her....so she MINE!"
And that would be where I interrupted and informed them that, bought and paid for or not, I would NOT be serving them the food I prepared if they didn't stop arguing over me. They settled for a truce, deciding that they could share me as a wife. How nice for me.
I just wish that you could have heard their voices. I don't know if it was like two grown men fighting over a woman or two little boys fighting over a toy, but they seemed like clones of each other in that moment. Same tone of voice, same furrowed brow, same intense "just try me" stare. My husband, was of course, greatly amused by this interaction, and part of me can't help but feel there is something healthy in this macho head-butting that has been going on lately. Corbin is identifying himself with his Daddy and wanting to be the leader, just like he sees his Daddy leading. Those are good things! Their man wars are silly, but so sweet at the same time when I think about what is really taking place. I'm thankful beyond words that Corbin, and Daniel and Samuel for that matter, have such a godly model to mimic as they sort out what all it means to be a man, husband, and father!
Tonight, as I tucked Corbin into bed, he kissed me on the cheek and said, "Good night, wife. You my best Mommy ever." That boy is all man, but -- like his Daddy -- is also the most soft-hearted man I've ever met. So is our little guy, Daniel. I suspect Samuel will be the same. If they don't kill me by a heart attack with their shennanigans, they are going to kill me by a broken heart with their tender kisses and sweet nothings whispered into my ear! I have one heck of an adventure cut out for me in the days to come with testosterone at dangerous levels in my home, but something tells me that when I'm old and gray I will have a whole lot more laugh lines to show for it!
UPDATE (11/4/09):
So the wife drama continues. This morning while Corbin was finishing his breakfast, Phil sat down on the couch next to me and leaned in for a kiss. Corbin started to say, "she MY wife," but stopped himself and said, "Okay, Dad, she OUR wife. We share her." My ever-so-loving husband replied, without missing a beat, "Good idea son, because she's definitely too dang much woman for one man to handle". Corbin put another spoonful of yogurt in his mouth and nodded knowingly in agreement as Phil said, "maybe between the two of us we can tame this one". Fortunately Phil was sitting close enough for me to pinch him -- bad planning on his part. It's quite fun for me actually, because I know the teasing is just their flirtatious way of saying that they love me and are thankful they have me. I'm thankful for them too, the little brats ;o)
One thing I am learning about little boys is that they are just men in miniature form. Well, either that, or men are just boys in giant form. Whichever it is, there's not much difference!
My 2 and 1/2 year old son, Corbin, is so boy it's not even funny. No, I mean it really isn't funny -- he scares me to death with his wild antics and dangerous exploits! Lately he has been paying an extra amount of attention to his Daddy and trying to mirror him, as he always has. However, the difference now is that there seems to be an air of competition to his imitations. Let me share with you what occurred at the breakfast table this morning:
Phil had just finished saying the blessing and he leaned over to give me a kiss before we started eating. Corbin looked him dead in the eye, frowning, and said, "Don't you kiss my Momma, she MINE!".
My husband, imitating Corbin's macho tone of voice, said, "No way, boy....she is MINE!".
Corbin: "She MY Mommy!"
Phil: "Well she's MY wife!"
Corbin: "No, she MY wife!"
Phil: "I married her, she's MY wife!"
Corbin: "No, I married her...she MINE!"
Phil: "Boy, I bought and paid for her and she is MINE!"
Corbin: "No, I bought paid her....so she MINE!"
And that would be where I interrupted and informed them that, bought and paid for or not, I would NOT be serving them the food I prepared if they didn't stop arguing over me. They settled for a truce, deciding that they could share me as a wife. How nice for me.
I just wish that you could have heard their voices. I don't know if it was like two grown men fighting over a woman or two little boys fighting over a toy, but they seemed like clones of each other in that moment. Same tone of voice, same furrowed brow, same intense "just try me" stare. My husband, was of course, greatly amused by this interaction, and part of me can't help but feel there is something healthy in this macho head-butting that has been going on lately. Corbin is identifying himself with his Daddy and wanting to be the leader, just like he sees his Daddy leading. Those are good things! Their man wars are silly, but so sweet at the same time when I think about what is really taking place. I'm thankful beyond words that Corbin, and Daniel and Samuel for that matter, have such a godly model to mimic as they sort out what all it means to be a man, husband, and father!
Tonight, as I tucked Corbin into bed, he kissed me on the cheek and said, "Good night, wife. You my best Mommy ever." That boy is all man, but -- like his Daddy -- is also the most soft-hearted man I've ever met. So is our little guy, Daniel. I suspect Samuel will be the same. If they don't kill me by a heart attack with their shennanigans, they are going to kill me by a broken heart with their tender kisses and sweet nothings whispered into my ear! I have one heck of an adventure cut out for me in the days to come with testosterone at dangerous levels in my home, but something tells me that when I'm old and gray I will have a whole lot more laugh lines to show for it!
UPDATE (11/4/09):
So the wife drama continues. This morning while Corbin was finishing his breakfast, Phil sat down on the couch next to me and leaned in for a kiss. Corbin started to say, "she MY wife," but stopped himself and said, "Okay, Dad, she OUR wife. We share her." My ever-so-loving husband replied, without missing a beat, "Good idea son, because she's definitely too dang much woman for one man to handle". Corbin put another spoonful of yogurt in his mouth and nodded knowingly in agreement as Phil said, "maybe between the two of us we can tame this one". Fortunately Phil was sitting close enough for me to pinch him -- bad planning on his part. It's quite fun for me actually, because I know the teasing is just their flirtatious way of saying that they love me and are thankful they have me. I'm thankful for them too, the little brats ;o)
Speedy Chicken Casserole
I am going out with a girlfriend tonight, which means the hubby will be responsible for all of our crew (except the one who travels with me in utero, of course). I am aiming to have everyone fed, bathed, and in bed before he even gets home so that he can just relax after work and not have to stress out over the bedtime routine. That means I needed a QUICK dinner, preferably with as many healthy food groups in it as possible. Hence, the invention of Speedy Chicken Casserole! I took some things I had readily available in our pantry and fridge, and prayed it didn't taste like dirt. As I write to you now, the kids are chowing down like no tomorrow, and they have informed me that I'm the "best cooker ever in the whole world!" (by the way, I could make them Eggo waffles and they would say this, so don't read too much into it!). I'm going to share the recipe, less because I think everyone needs to make it and more because I want those who are scared to experiment to see that it really can be as easy as thinking about foods you like and throwing them in a dish!
Speedy Chicken Casserole
Ingredients:
4 boneless skinless chicken breasts, cooked and cut into bite size pieces
1 package of chicken flavored long grain wild rice, cooked
1 can mushrooms
1 can cream of mushroom soup (or cream of chicken)
1 can sweet peas
1/2 cup sour cream
1 cup shredded cheese (I used a cheddar/jack)
salt & pepper to taste
Preparation:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Mix all ingredients together (remember, chicken and rice must have been cooked in advance) in a large bowl. Spread into a 11x13" casserole dish. Sprinkle shredded cheese on top. Bake at 350 for 25-30 minutes, or until cheese is melted and bubbly.
There you go! Oh, and before I go starts baths, let me quickly encourage you to check out http://www.allrecipes.com/. This is a great website for getting recipes or even just ideas to get you started on creating your own recipes! You can also upload recipes that you love for others to try and comment about. It's a wealth of cooking information!
Alrighty, I'm out....I hear squealing when there should only be chewing....
Speedy Chicken Casserole
Ingredients:
4 boneless skinless chicken breasts, cooked and cut into bite size pieces
1 package of chicken flavored long grain wild rice, cooked
1 can mushrooms
1 can cream of mushroom soup (or cream of chicken)
1 can sweet peas
1/2 cup sour cream
1 cup shredded cheese (I used a cheddar/jack)
salt & pepper to taste
Preparation:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Mix all ingredients together (remember, chicken and rice must have been cooked in advance) in a large bowl. Spread into a 11x13" casserole dish. Sprinkle shredded cheese on top. Bake at 350 for 25-30 minutes, or until cheese is melted and bubbly.
There you go! Oh, and before I go starts baths, let me quickly encourage you to check out http://www.allrecipes.com/. This is a great website for getting recipes or even just ideas to get you started on creating your own recipes! You can also upload recipes that you love for others to try and comment about. It's a wealth of cooking information!
Alrighty, I'm out....I hear squealing when there should only be chewing....
Happy Dots
(written in September of 2008)
"MOMMA NEEDS A HAPPY DOT!!!!"
That would be what I screamed first thing this morning as I laid in bed. I woke up to a child on one breast and a husband attempting to molest from the other side. I swatted his hand, only to have two toddlers climb up in my side of the bed to say "Good morning." After a round of kisses and hugs, I felt like I had been elbowed and kneed by several bony monkeys. It was after getting a knee to the non-nursing breast (I need to call the "boob abuse hotline"), that I went on my Happy Dot rampage.
Some of you may be unfamiliar with Happy Dots. Let me explain. In my elementary school, a "Happy Dot" was a round, solid-colored sticker stuck to the gym floor to indicate where you were to place your rear. The Happy Dots were positioned so that everyone had their own "personal space." If you were touching someone else, odds were good your butt was not on your happy dot!
That was what went through my mind as my body was lovingly abused this morning. Where is Mommy's Happy Dot? Where can I place my rear so that nobody else can touch me?? There seem to be no personal boundaries as a wife and mother, especially in our home. We are a very touchy-feely, lovey bunch of people, and I wouldn't change that for the world. But sometimes, just sometimes, I would love to have some breathing room!
Nursing Daniel in my rocking chair, there is never a shortage of short people wanting to climb up and watch. Walking past my husband as he watches CSPAN, I can never manage to escape some sort of gropeage. I can't even pee in peace. If I even say, "I need to go the restroom," everyone seems to think it is an invitation to run to my bathroom.
The other day I just wanted to take a quick shower. Phil was home, so I told him to watch the kids for awhile. He does. But do you know where they end up playing? IN MY BATHROOM! Everyone thought it would be fun to come play in the bathroom and closet while Mommy showered. Really? We have 1600 sq. feet of house, two fully decked out bedrooms for the kids, and a toy room that looks like the North Pole crashed into my home, and the bathroom is the most interesting place to be? Seriously.
But after thinking about it, I decided that this is a form of flattery. The toy room is not the heart of the home. The bedrooms are not the heart of the home. No, not even the kitchen is the heart of the home. Wherever Mommy is, that's the place to be.
This is the joy and challenge of this stage of mothering. Balancing the needs of the husband, toddlers, and infants around us who thrive on our touch with the needs we have as individuals to sometimes find a "Happy Dot." Maybe your Happy Dot is a coffee shop or book store late at night after everyone has gone to bed. Perhaps you find your personal space is working out at the gym before everyone wakes up wanting and needing you. Or maybe you're like me, and sometimes your Happy Dot is simply locking the bathroom door and saying, "Mommy doesn't need help peeing this time. Thank you, though."
I will never forget one of my Mom's Happy Dots. It was our kitchen pantry. All of us children have fond memories of seeing a phone cord stretched across the kitchen and shut into the pantry door. You do what you have to do! I can't remember who it was at the moment, but a well known minister tells the story of how he and his siblings knew Mom needed some time whenever she threw her apron over her head. I love that story, but I think I'd need an apron with a force field to keep my kids out!
Wherever your Happy Dot may be, don't feel guilt in going there. We only emerge refreshed and renewed, more capable of providing the hugs and kisses and boundary-less love that our family needs. Teaching our children that Mommy occasionally needs personal space will not hurt their feelings or scar them in any way, but only reinforce the respect we are attempting to teach them for the needs of other people.
And yes, Mommy is a people, too!
"MOMMA NEEDS A HAPPY DOT!!!!"
That would be what I screamed first thing this morning as I laid in bed. I woke up to a child on one breast and a husband attempting to molest from the other side. I swatted his hand, only to have two toddlers climb up in my side of the bed to say "Good morning." After a round of kisses and hugs, I felt like I had been elbowed and kneed by several bony monkeys. It was after getting a knee to the non-nursing breast (I need to call the "boob abuse hotline"), that I went on my Happy Dot rampage.
Some of you may be unfamiliar with Happy Dots. Let me explain. In my elementary school, a "Happy Dot" was a round, solid-colored sticker stuck to the gym floor to indicate where you were to place your rear. The Happy Dots were positioned so that everyone had their own "personal space." If you were touching someone else, odds were good your butt was not on your happy dot!
That was what went through my mind as my body was lovingly abused this morning. Where is Mommy's Happy Dot? Where can I place my rear so that nobody else can touch me?? There seem to be no personal boundaries as a wife and mother, especially in our home. We are a very touchy-feely, lovey bunch of people, and I wouldn't change that for the world. But sometimes, just sometimes, I would love to have some breathing room!
Nursing Daniel in my rocking chair, there is never a shortage of short people wanting to climb up and watch. Walking past my husband as he watches CSPAN, I can never manage to escape some sort of gropeage. I can't even pee in peace. If I even say, "I need to go the restroom," everyone seems to think it is an invitation to run to my bathroom.
The other day I just wanted to take a quick shower. Phil was home, so I told him to watch the kids for awhile. He does. But do you know where they end up playing? IN MY BATHROOM! Everyone thought it would be fun to come play in the bathroom and closet while Mommy showered. Really? We have 1600 sq. feet of house, two fully decked out bedrooms for the kids, and a toy room that looks like the North Pole crashed into my home, and the bathroom is the most interesting place to be? Seriously.
But after thinking about it, I decided that this is a form of flattery. The toy room is not the heart of the home. The bedrooms are not the heart of the home. No, not even the kitchen is the heart of the home. Wherever Mommy is, that's the place to be.
This is the joy and challenge of this stage of mothering. Balancing the needs of the husband, toddlers, and infants around us who thrive on our touch with the needs we have as individuals to sometimes find a "Happy Dot." Maybe your Happy Dot is a coffee shop or book store late at night after everyone has gone to bed. Perhaps you find your personal space is working out at the gym before everyone wakes up wanting and needing you. Or maybe you're like me, and sometimes your Happy Dot is simply locking the bathroom door and saying, "Mommy doesn't need help peeing this time. Thank you, though."
I will never forget one of my Mom's Happy Dots. It was our kitchen pantry. All of us children have fond memories of seeing a phone cord stretched across the kitchen and shut into the pantry door. You do what you have to do! I can't remember who it was at the moment, but a well known minister tells the story of how he and his siblings knew Mom needed some time whenever she threw her apron over her head. I love that story, but I think I'd need an apron with a force field to keep my kids out!
Wherever your Happy Dot may be, don't feel guilt in going there. We only emerge refreshed and renewed, more capable of providing the hugs and kisses and boundary-less love that our family needs. Teaching our children that Mommy occasionally needs personal space will not hurt their feelings or scar them in any way, but only reinforce the respect we are attempting to teach them for the needs of other people.
And yes, Mommy is a people, too!
Beautifully Blessed in the Midst of Mess!
I remember dreaming as a young girl of being a wife and mommy. Oh, I had other dreams as well: artist (HA! The naievity of youth....I am SO not creative!), a writer, a teacher, a musician; but these other dreams always remained in the back shadows of my glorious visions of being a stay-at-home wife and mother. I would wear long, flowy skirts with an apron around my waist. I would make home-cooked meals three times a day and the kitchen would be immaculate. My tidy country home would have a quaint charm about it that would make it a sweet haven for family and visitors alike. I would not yell, but be the kind of mom who always had an adventure planned to keep my perfectly behaved children entertained and delighted in the wonders around them. I would be skinny and beautiful and sweet and funny and eloquent and intelligent and a complete blessing to my husband and children. I can just hear the harps and see the bright halo over my head as I look back!
Now lets fast forward about 15 years. I am indeed married to the man of my dreams and the love of a lifetime. My highschool sweetheart and first kiss, I am more in love with my husband now than I was as a love-struck girl of sixteen! We have three gorgeous, intelligent, sweet children -- and another on the way. My family is more than I could have ever dreamed of, and they bring me joy immeasurable!
Oh yes, my dreams have come true! My family is all I ever could have imagined, hoped, and prayed for.
HOWEVER....
Me? Ehhh....that's where the dream went south.
I do not wear long flowy skirts and aprons on most days. Most days I am wearing yoga pants and my husbands huge t-shirts with stains on them.
While I love to cook and do so often, my kitchen shows it. There is, at any given moment, enough food beneath my toddlers highchair to feed an entire starving family. The sink is rarely completely empty, I don't know what color the burners on my stove were originally, and there is actually a chocolate milk stain on my ceiling. Yeah, don't ask.
We do not live in the country (yet) and my home is FAR from quaint and clean. Instead of a tidy charm to welcome visitors, there are many days where, if you showed up at my house unnanounced, I would just meet you on the porch to keep you from seeing the disaster that lies behind my front doors!
Four babies in four years works a number on a woman's body, I have perpetual "preggo brain", I lose my temper, and a good day is one where I get to take a shower AND get dressed in real clothes.
I am a MESS!
But, what peace in the lesson God is teaching me -- that in this mess there is beauty! I am not perfect, but He is. I am not capable, but He is. I am not worthy, but He is! And by loving Him, all my shortcomings are covered over by the grace of Christ! I am learning to delight in the stretchmarks on my stomach, the stains on my carpets, the little spaghetti fingerprints on my walls, and the mess that surrounds me. They are the result of the blessings of babies grown within me, a husband whose muddy boots cover hard-working feet, and little hands that have captured my very heart.
This mess is not born of laziness, but of love. And I love every moment of it!
So why don't you join me as I learn to praise God in the chaos of this stage of life? Let's revel in the beautiful messes that we are, knowing that the sacrifices we make as mothers of little ones are what really matters. Not designer clothes, not model homes, not fancy cars, not magazine bodies. But the scars and stains that show our hearts are focused on what it is all about: following Christ, loving our husbands, and nurturing our sweet little blessings!
It's a mess, but it's one beautifully blessed mess!!
Now lets fast forward about 15 years. I am indeed married to the man of my dreams and the love of a lifetime. My highschool sweetheart and first kiss, I am more in love with my husband now than I was as a love-struck girl of sixteen! We have three gorgeous, intelligent, sweet children -- and another on the way. My family is more than I could have ever dreamed of, and they bring me joy immeasurable!
Oh yes, my dreams have come true! My family is all I ever could have imagined, hoped, and prayed for.
HOWEVER....
Me? Ehhh....that's where the dream went south.
I do not wear long flowy skirts and aprons on most days. Most days I am wearing yoga pants and my husbands huge t-shirts with stains on them.
While I love to cook and do so often, my kitchen shows it. There is, at any given moment, enough food beneath my toddlers highchair to feed an entire starving family. The sink is rarely completely empty, I don't know what color the burners on my stove were originally, and there is actually a chocolate milk stain on my ceiling. Yeah, don't ask.
We do not live in the country (yet) and my home is FAR from quaint and clean. Instead of a tidy charm to welcome visitors, there are many days where, if you showed up at my house unnanounced, I would just meet you on the porch to keep you from seeing the disaster that lies behind my front doors!
Four babies in four years works a number on a woman's body, I have perpetual "preggo brain", I lose my temper, and a good day is one where I get to take a shower AND get dressed in real clothes.
I am a MESS!
But, what peace in the lesson God is teaching me -- that in this mess there is beauty! I am not perfect, but He is. I am not capable, but He is. I am not worthy, but He is! And by loving Him, all my shortcomings are covered over by the grace of Christ! I am learning to delight in the stretchmarks on my stomach, the stains on my carpets, the little spaghetti fingerprints on my walls, and the mess that surrounds me. They are the result of the blessings of babies grown within me, a husband whose muddy boots cover hard-working feet, and little hands that have captured my very heart.
This mess is not born of laziness, but of love. And I love every moment of it!
So why don't you join me as I learn to praise God in the chaos of this stage of life? Let's revel in the beautiful messes that we are, knowing that the sacrifices we make as mothers of little ones are what really matters. Not designer clothes, not model homes, not fancy cars, not magazine bodies. But the scars and stains that show our hearts are focused on what it is all about: following Christ, loving our husbands, and nurturing our sweet little blessings!
It's a mess, but it's one beautifully blessed mess!!
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