Mornings and Music and Pressing On

Mornings are hard for the boy and me. He is slow to get up, slow to get dressed, slow to do everything. I bought the wrong kind of cereal or let the milk run out. He fights with his sister about where the cereal box should be for optimal viewing of the label (even though they read it yesterday and every other day for the past week). He doesn't like the available lunch options, or else he gets so excited about them that he dances around instead of making the lunch. He can't find his shoes. or his homework. or his glasses.

And then we eventually start practicing piano and he does NOT want to do his scales. Many days there is yelling and pouting by at least one of us. It's amazing the number of things he "does not care" about when scales are on the line.

Today was one of those days, but we finally got through the scales and I sat on the couch to listen to his review pieces (something I often don't do because his sister is usually practicing at the same time so I'm listening to her). And I suddenly realized, he's playing music. This rough-and-tumble boy who always has food around his mouth. The one who I'm always a little worried may not make it in life--or survive into adulthood. That one...moments of his practicing show sensitivity and musicianship.

Now, this is no child prodigy. He is no better at piano than other children who practice every day like he does. But sometimes I catch a glimpse that it's going to be worth it. All this work is slowly paying off. You play enough scales and finally it turns into music. Maybe the hours we spend practicing each week are shaping his soul as well as his fingers. Perhaps he'll make something of himself.

So, mother whose mornings are hard and who wants to give up on the hard thing you are making your child do for his own good: Don't give up. Don't stop. Someday you'll look up and realize there's music coming out of him. And it will be worth it.

Here's the video I took to encourage myself on days when I think I can't. take. one. more. day. You can see where he turned around and realized he was being recorded, and also where it all kind of fell apart at the end. This is practice, after all, not perfection.

Enough with the Mommy Guilt

I've been reminded lately that I need to chill out a little bit. It's easy for me to jump to conclusions (somehow they are always bad ones) and assume the worst about a situation. The problem is that in parenting this leads to unnecessary mommy guilt. I walk around with a huge burden, feeling like I'm failing my children. But they didn't put that burden there, I did. I offer you two exhibits as evidence:

Exhibit A:

These notes

greeted me on my dresser one night when I came home from an activity. The kids were already in bed at this point, and my husband told me that around this child's bed were increasingly adamant notes about the tooth fairy needing to make an appearance. "TOOTH HERE!" "TOOTH UNDER PILLOW!" "Tooth fairy, PLEASE COME!" Somehow the tooth fairy has a very hard time making it to our house. Actually, the pizza man does too, because GPS's misdirect them, so maybe the tooth fairy has the same GPS. Whatever the reason, it often takes several weeks for the tooth fairy to pay up. Yes, I feel guilty about this, and I vow to do better, but somehow it's hard for me to remember.

So of course when I saw this note I jumped to the conclusion that this child had lost a tooth weeks previously and had been waiting for us to notice, all the while becoming emotionally scarred because we failed to see the gap in her smile. I was imagining that every night at dinner she'd sit silently hoping that maybe someone would take note of this significant event in her life, and no one ever did. I was absolutely riddled with guilt. I was ready to give this child $20 for her tooth (our usual rate is $1, or $2 if we are really slow at paying, or $3 for a pulled tooth). My husband urged me not to try to buy her off, so we gave her $2, but I still felt terrible. We typed up a very lengthy note from the tooth fairy explaining that she had noticed the lost tooth, and I think we said she had been short of cash.

Now three weeks before this event, this same child had lost a tooth, and not having any dollar bills I had paid in quarters with a little note of explanation. Apparently I had disguised my handwriting well, because I heard the girls discussing the note and agreeing that it wasn't from me.
 
So on this night, just before I put the $2 and the typed note under the child's pillow, I wondered aloud, "you don't think this is the same tooth that I already paid for in quarters, do you? This child isn't trying to get paid twice for the same tooth, is she? Surely not."

Well, as you can probably guess, it was in fact the same tooth. The child in question had thought that the quarters were put under her pillow by an older sister, and were in fact her own quarters from her piggy bank, so she had tried again. My extreme mommy guilt was uncalled for.


Exhibit B:

Do you see this picture of our family, drawn by my first-grade son? All of us are lined up in age order, and then Dad is above us in a hot air balloon. The psychologists among you are probably thinking what I thought: Why is Dad in a hot air balloon? Does this child think he is absent? Above the rest of us? (probably that one is true). And why does the hot air balloon look like a prison? Does the child think he is imprisoned by work? Surely this picture means something profound.

I had learned my lesson from the tooth fairy extortion of 2013. I would not jump to conclusions, I would ask the child. So I asked him why Dad was in a hot air balloon. My son smiled and said, "I ran out of room." Ah, crisis averted. And putting him in a hot air balloon was actually a pretty clever way for it to make sense that he wasn't standing with the rest of us.


I laughed about both of these events, but they made me think. I wish I could stop over-analyzing every situation and assuming the worst. I wonder how many times I have imposed thoughts and feelings on my children that were not even there. I wonder how many times my mommy guilt has been a good thing that leads me to be a better mom, and how many times it has led to unnecessary worry, stress, and anxiety. My guess is that it has only been justified and useful about twenty percent of the time.

I wonder why I always blame myself for every struggle my children have. If they react badly to something or are overwhelmed, it's my fault for not preparing them for it. If they are struggling with a friend, I wasn't the first person they came to for help because I'm a bad mom. If they are struggling in school, it's my DNA that makes that skill hard for them. If they seem down or discouraged, it's my fault for not helping them be happy.

I've had enough. I am ready to own the twenty percent of the mommy guilt that is mine and do something about it, and ignore the other eighty percent. I don't know exactly how to do that, but I hope remembering these two incidents will help. Maybe a good first step is asking my kids what they think of me, like the kids in this video. My guess is that they think I'm doing a better job of this whole mom thing than I think I'm doing. And probably they don't blame me for most of their struggles because they are too busy blaming themselves. Hmmm. Maybe getting rid of unnecessary guilt would help all of us!

An Unexpected Blessing

Have you ever reacted to something differently than you thought you would? Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but I am ashamed to admit that when I found out my fourth baby was going to be a boy, after having three girls, I cried. I was surprised. And scared. I knew how to do girls. They were like me. But a boy? What on earth would I do with a boy? And how could he possibly turn out normal in a family of all girls? Would I have to buy him dinosaurs? Because I really don't like dinosaurs--I think they are icky.

A few days later the dust settled and I decided I would just not encourage any dinosaur toys, and I felt a little better. I figured a baby is a baby, and I could do babies, and we'd figure out the whole boy thing as we went along.

Surprisingly, having a boy felt different to me from day one. I had a sense that he and I had a bond that was meant to prepare him to move away from me in a way that was different from the girls. With daughters, you'll always have "girl things" in common with them. But with boys, they grow up and move on to be a man with a family of their own. And that reality somehow makes the bond you have with them all the more sweet. Maybe it seems unexpected in some way.

But the thing I was most unprepared for was the way a boy melts your heart when he brings you a bouquet of flowers. You expect girls to pick you flowers, and you know they like the flowers as much as you do. But boys? Somehow it seems like it was just done for you.

I didn't know I needed a boy, but God did. I didn't know how wonderful and sweet boys could be, but God did. And I didn't know that my life wasn't complete without this sweet face in it to challenge me and light up my life, but God did. I'm so thankful He gives us what we need rather than what we ask for!

Weary of Sin

I woke up this morning with the sun streaming in my window at 6:30. It was heavenly. And then I cozied down in my chair with my cup of coffee and read my Bible before the day began. I was in a great frame of mind...until the kids made their appearance.

Sometimes I wish they would just grow up a little, ya know? Yesterday two kids lied to me and forgot important things I had reminded them about repeatedly. Others bickered with each other and whined when asked to do basic maintenance on their own space (in other words, pick up the pile of socks and underwear in the middle of their room). Today we're at it again--arguing about whether or not to do what mom said, or just plain not doing it and then "running out of time." I'm weary of the task of parenting.

Of course, they are acting their age. It is part of being a kid to be irresponsible (although maybe not quite THIS irresponsible), to lie, to be lazy, to fight against authority...Just like it's part of being an adult to be impatient and unloving. It's all called sin.

In my Bible reading this morning I read Nehemiah 9, which is the account of the people's repentance after the wall was completed. There is a long prayer that the Levites gave, recounting Israel's history and God's faithfulness. I made a list in my journal of all the things it says about God...He is gracious, merciful, provider, creator, slow to anger and full of unfailing love, forgiving, just, true to His word. I came up with 21 adjectives from this chapter. Then I made a list of all the descriptions of the people...stubborn, rebellious, unfaithful, disobedient, obstinate. There isn't one positive description of the people, unless you count the fact that at that moment they were repentant.

It was a good reminder on a day when I'm weary of parenting that this muddle of sin we're in is part of life, but there is hope. Kids will act like kids and adults will act like kids and we are all stuck in sin but for this: "You are a God of forgiveness, gracious and merciful, slow to become angry, and rich in unfailing love. You did not abandon them..." (Neh. 9:17). And He will not abandon us. His gracious help is always available when we ask for it.

If today is one of those days for you, and you're a little tired of the sin in your heart and the sin in those around you, take courage. God is merciful and gracious, full of unfailing love for you and for everyone around you. Even our stubborn and rebellious hearts do not make Him love us any less!

Glorious Boredom

Summer vacation starts in just a few short days. As you saw in my post last week, I've been in an organizing frenzy. I think I'm trying to get a hold on my sanity before the kids are home. All day. Every day. Including the days when I'm packing for our vacations, which as you saw in my other post last week are a lot of work. I have a plan for how we'll all get by this summer, which I may share tomorrow. Or I may wait to see how well it works.

I want to let you in on a little secret that I don't think my kids know: I think it's good for them to be bored. When they come to me with wails of "I'm bored! I have nothing to do!" I don't panic, I secretly rejoice. And then I offer to find them something to do, which of course they decline because they know it will involve work on their part.

The thing is, I think it is in boredom that creativity is birthed. Boredom necessitates growth. It drives kids to think and do new things. Dissatisfaction dissolves as simple joys are rediscovered.

If we fill boredom with constant outings and mom-directed activities and that brain drain called TV, it never achieves its purpose of creative discovery. But if we let it fester for a few minutes, or even a few days, it's amazing what happens. New games are created.

(okay, this was maybe not my favorite game, and that's obviously an old picture, but I couldn't resist including it.)

Old toys are rediscovered.

Siblings become friends.

 Children curl up in corners with good books. 

Culinary masterpieces emerge from the kitchen.

Stories are imagined.

 Artistic masterpieces appear on bedroom walls as if by magic.

Scientific experiments are unveiled.

Tadpoles are captured and observed.

Entire cities are built (yes, this picture is a few years old too).

So as you start this summer, go ahead and make your bucket list. Hit the waterparks and museums and mini golf courses. Take advantage of the wonderful treasure that is summer with kids. But on your days home, don't be afraid of a little boredom. Don't view it as a problem to be fixed or feel guilty if you haven't kept your kids happy and busy every single second. Don't pressure yourself to maximize every opportunity for activity or feel like a failure if days go by in which you accomplish nothing. Embrace the boredom, let it simmer for a little while, and then see what wonderful discoveries your kids make. And if you can find time for a little of your own boredom, that's even better!

Rulers or Servants?

When you think of your goals for your children, what usually comes to mind? I think of phrases like living up to their potential and discovering their gifts and doing their best. I encourage perseverance and success and trying new things so they'll get a sense that they can conquer the world. I tell them they can do anything they put their mind to, but that most of all I want them to love Jesus and serve him.

That's not a new goal, of course. In the little town of Strasburg, Virginia, there is a Bible on display, and in that Bible is an inscription dated 1773 that reads:  

On the First of July 1759, I Simon Harr (born the 3rd of July 1734) married Elizabeth Schmitten. Two sons were born to us. The first one Frederic, by name, was born the 4th of April 1760 on good Friday evening at 10 o'clock. The second and last, John by name (Johannes) was born in 1761, on the 19th of Dec. at midnight. Thou, O Triune God, may it please thee to let them grow and develop as well in faith, wisdom and piety and all Christian virtues as in years. Oh vouchsafe to all of us thy Holy Spirit, that it guide us all in truth together and bring us along the strait path and even nearer to our heavenly inheritance and finally bring us hither. For Jesus sake, Amen.

When push comes to shove, my goal for my kids is to raise them to the best of my ability to be a certain kind of person, regardless of what profession they may choose. And I think I've communicated that well enough that they would all say that's what I want for them. But this morning in my mom's group I was struck by a question the speaker asked: Are we raising rulers or servants? Much as I want my kids to have hearts of compassion and serve others, I don't think ultimately that's the goal I usually work for. I think of it as sort of an afterthought: Find a profession with some meaning and purpose behind it, and then use it to serve others. I imagine them serving in positions of influence and leadership--teachers or artists or doctors or mothers or missionaries. I don't think I'm preparing them for careers as janitors or restaurant workers or lawnservice people or grocery store baggers. 

Now, there's nothing wrong with striving to help our kids reach their potential or feel good about the gifts God has given them. In fact, I would say that it's good stewardship to prepare our kids to be whatever God has gifted and called them to do. But am I trying so hard to give my kids great experiences and prepare them to lead that I forget to prepare them to serve? Do I set them up to think they should be the best at something, that they should strive for a profession of influence and leadership? Will they struggle with feelings of failure if they end up in a profession the world sees as pretty lowly? Heaven forbid, will they think I'm disappointed in them if they don't live up to their potential?

For me, these lessons hit home because I often feel like my education was wasted. What have I done with my college degree from a prestigious Christian college? I'm working to raise five kids--usually not very well--and copy edit words that other people have written. It's not much, by the world's estimation. It's not even much by my own estimation!

And yet, this is what I'm called to. Maybe there won't ever be much success in my life. Maybe I'll never rule much of anything. But I'm definitely serving. And Jesus, when he washed the disciples' feet--a lowly job if ever there was one--called that act the full extent of love (John 13:1).

Perhaps my parenting priorities need some tweaking. Forget success and potential and conquering the world: I want to teach my children to love. Not as an afterthought, but as the main purpose of their lives. And that means showing them how to serve. What does that look like? Well, I'm pretty sure it starts at home with serving each other. And it involves expanding their world so they develop compassion for people who are hurting. It includes service projects and missions trips and serving at church. And, perhaps most of all, it means setting an example of loving, humble service that doesn't look down on anyone or any task. It means being cheerful and content with my own profession of laundry and dishes and diaper-changing and nose-wiping.

Transitions

No one warned me when I became a parent that with each additional child there would be another birthday, and that each of those birthdays would make my mama heart hurt. I'm thankful that my children are growing and developing, of course, but it still makes me sad to see each year go by, and multiply that by five and you've got a whole lotta bittersweet.

This one just turned two last week.

My last baby, growing so fast. I guess I face a choice: I can wallow in self-pity, or I can choose thankfulness.

Choosing thankfulness means embracing each moment and then letting it go. It means looking toward my next calling. It means letting go of this thing that I know I can do--taking care of babies--and trusting that there will be a next thing that God will also call me to and prepare me for. It means joyfully tackling the hard job of learning how to raise teenagers and coach young adults, jobs that scare me because I haven't done them before and they sound hard. It means praying about and preparing myself to have a vision beyond the things I've done before, a vision I can't see clearly yet, but I trust that it's there. It means enjoying the 2-year-old birthday party and taking my almost-teen out to a movie rather than moping around the house. It means listening for the joy other moms express over the kids-in-college-and-beyond stage. It means embracing with joy and gratitude what is and what will be, not just what was.

Most of all, choosing thankfulness means trusting that my faithful God has gone before me into the next stage. He knows what's around the corner for me, for my children, for my life. Whatever this next stage will be, he's already there. I'll probably secretly shed a few tears with each passing year, but I hope that most of them will be thankful and hopeful tears.

How about you? How do you face transitions with hope and gratitude?

Keeping Kids Organized

It's ironic that this post comes late in the day on a week I've only blogged once. Apparently I need to take my own advice!

Do you have one of those kids who seems to never be able to find what they need? Missing assignments, missing clothes, missing shoes, chronic lateness . . .

I have one of those kids, and as she gets older, the stakes keep get higher. So here is what I've learned about keeping kids organized as I've struggled through the early school years with her:

1) Teach kids to make lists. When my daughter was younger I made lists for her, but now she makes them for herself. Those post-it notes and dry erase boards in lockers are helpful if you remind them to write it down. I was amused a few weeks back when I noticed my daughter had written on both sides of her hand. I asked her what it said, and she listed off something she needed to remember. Then I asked what was written on the top of her hand, and she read off, "look on other side."

2) Make sure they clean out their backpacks and folders regularly. Disorganized kids won't think to do this without being reminded, and every bit of clutter only serves to make their minds more cluttered.

3) Try to identify what the issue is. Is it that they don't know how to organize things? Work together on some organization projects and tell your child each step of what you're doing: First we take everything out, then we make piles of stuff to keep, toss, or give away. Then we find a storage solution for whatever we're keeping.

Is it that they are a perfectionist, and the moment something is out of order they give up and leave it a mess? Try to work with them on getting things good enough to be functional.

Is it that they get distracted easily? This one is definitely the hardest nut to crack. It helps to make their environment (room, desk, etc.) less cluttered. Beyond that, just keep praising them every time they stick with a task and reminding them every time they forget what they are doing.

4) Make notes to yourself about what you need to remind the child about. Yes, it would be nice if they remembered to bring their instrument to school on orchestra days by themselves. But maybe it's easier to just remind them in the morning as they're walking out the door. I find this means I need to be on top of things myself by getting up on time and making notes for myself.

5) Consequences, consequences. At some point disorganized kids need to learn to manage their own world. Pick some reasonable, age-appropriate level of things they need to do on their own and then give some painful consequences if they fail to follow through. Missing assignments equals missing playdates. Forgotten stuff equals no screen time. That kind of thing.

6) Chill out. This is the one I need to work on. As a goal-oriented, organized type of person, it's really hard for me to relax and let my daughter muddle through in her disorganized way. Being disorganized is part of her makeup. It's what makes her a people person, tuned into the feelings of others. It's what makes her musical and creative. Unfortunately, since I like an orderly world, I tend to overreact about her slip-ups.

The trick is to find a balance over time between teaching your child the skills they need to succeed in life and understanding that they are a person who is supposed to be a little disorganized because that's what goes along with their personality and gifting. There are lots of amazing people in the world who are disorganized, and somehow they make it through life. Don't stop trying to help your child learn better organization (for their good and your sanity), but don't make them and yourself miserable trying to change who they are.

The Picky-Eater Cure

You know how you have a bunch of parenting theories before you have kids, and then you're excited to test them and see if you're right? Well, I had a few about eating. And with children one through four they held true. I figured that picky eaters were made more than born, and that if you just don't put up with pickiness, the kid gets over it.

Like I said, this worked four out of five times. That's an 80 percent success rate, which is really pretty good. But not perfect.

I mostly followed the rules about what to feed them and when. I breastfed. I started cereal between five and six months, when they started getting up more at night, signaling that they weren't getting enough calories during the day. I gave them rice first, then the more interesting grains. I gave them vegetables before fruit. I was a good girl.

And those first four kids ate. And ate. They were pretty chubby babies and didn't refuse much of anything. By age three they were eating salad and liking it. They amazed their grandparents and great-grandparents with the way they genuinely appreciated things like asparagus and pork tenderloin. One of them even ate food he found in the garbage on occasion. Parenting theory proved. All was well. Well, all was well once we put a stop to that garbage-eating.

And then came number five. She ate okay, but not great. She was on the skinny side, still wearing 12 month clothes at 18 months. And now she's two, and although she's healthy, she really doesn't eat much. If you give her a cookie to eat and decorate, she'll eat the M&Ms and frosting and then leave the rest. If you give her what the rest of the family is eating for dinner she loudly refuses. If you give her what she asks for she eats a few bites and then is finished. The only things she eats in any quantity are peanuts (I know, she's too young. What can I say? This is child number five, and the rules no longer apply), fruit snacks (which I made the mistake of buying a large box of from Costco, but will never buy again), and spaghetti and french fries if she's in the mood.

So, parenting theory disproved. Some picky eaters are born that way. What to do now?

1) Do not become a short-order cook. I give my children choices for breakfast and lunch. Not a choice of every possible thing, but reasonable choices between cereals or a few main-dish options I'm willing and able to make. But at dinner, I will not make more than one meal. If my child does not want one of the two or three things served at that meal, she will survive until morning. Now, this is easy for me to say because she does not wake up hungry. If she was waking up, perhaps I would allow bread or cereal for dinner. But the basic concept is still sound, I think.

2) Start working on the concept of "three more bites of this or no dessert" and then consistently enforce it. At age two, she doesn't so much understand this yet. But I'm sure the light bulb will go on soon enough.

3) Continue the rule of the "no thank-you helping." Each child must take a bite of everything offered at a meal. Now, child number five is very, very good at clamping her mouth shut. But soon she will have to follow this rule or she won't be allowed down from the table. Certainly by age three. This rule is important because it teaches respect and gratitude for the person who prepared the meal and sooner or later kids often change their minds about whether or not they like a food, but they can't change their minds if they haven't been forced to eat the food a few times. In the interest of full disclosure, my husband does not follow this rule, but the kids have managed to make the mental adjustment that it is still required of them.

4) Cut down on desserts and sweets until the child is eating pretty healthily. By pretty healthy I mean that over the course of the week their diet gives them a reasonable amount of nutrients from all the food groups.

5) Cut down on snacks to see if they have a better appetite at mealtimes. Or at least make snacks healthier if they aren't going to eat at meals.

6) Slowly work at table manners, specifically sitting at the table. Our other kids did this because, you know, they were actually eating while the rest of us were eating. This child who doesn't eat also doesn't want to be confined. So we're talking baby steps at this point. A few minutes at the table without screaming or dumping food on the floor.

7) And one more for when she's older: children should never be allowed to say anything rude or unkind about the food that is served to them. If they don't have anything nice to say about the food that has been provided, they better not say anything at all. If any child of mine says something like "I hate brussels sprouts" when they sit down at the table, they will be sent to their room while the rest of us eat. And when we're all finished they will eat those brussels sprouts in solitude. Table manners and common courtesy can be taught even if you can't teach the pickiness out of a picky eater.

8) Eventually I do think it's smart to include children in menu-planning and meal preparation. I'm not going to stop making every meal that a child doesn't like, but I do try to make things that the children prefer and lots of meals where you put it together yourself at the table so they can choose what topping they want (taco salad or baked potatoes with various toppings, for instance)

So there you have my strategy for my picky eater. What's worked for you? Or maybe a better question is, what parenting theory have your children disproved?

Desperate Times

I always wanted to have a lot of kids. Babies are so delicious and wonderful that I kept wanting one more. When I had four kids, I was constantly looking around to see if we had them all, as if one was missing even when all four were there. And so we ended up with five kids. Not a huge family, but pretty big. And I love it, most of the time. After all, this is what I always wanted.

The thing is, though, I like calm and neat. Peace and quiet. Order. Moments alone with a book and a cup of coffee. Which is pretty impossible with five kids, even when they are good kids. Five kids make a lot of messes. Five kids in a smallish house are hard to keep organized. They make a lot of noise. They have a lot going on, and it's hard to keep track of all that they are supposed to do and all the places they are supposed to be. The mess and the schedule and the pace of life are overwhelming.

And I have to say that a lot of days I don't handle it very well. I go to the kitchen, see the dishes of five kids all out on the counter, and start to clean them up. I can handle this. And then I notice the grimy mess someone left under their chair. So I start to clean that up, slightly less cheerful than when I came into the kitchen. And then I notice that there is peanut butter smeared on the chair leg about two inches from the floor. How in the world did they get that there? And so I clean that up too, and by this point I'm seething inside. Why doesn't anyone dean up after themselves, just a little bit? Do they honestly not see the trail of stuff they leave in their wake, or do they just not care that they are leaving it for me to clean up?

I've just come from the bedroom the three girls share, and even with my supervision they have managed to turn five minutes' worth of cleaning into half an hour of my nagging and their seeming blindness to the things that are out of place. Sometimes I despair of their learning basic responsibility, let alone ever being able to manage a household of their own.

But I think the bigger issue here is my own sinfulness. Why do I get so impatient? Why do I yell at them, so angry at the childishness of these children? Why is my agenda more important to me than their feelings? Why can I not slow down just a bit and offer them more understanding, more compassion?

These are the questions I ask myself numerous times each year. I have weeks where everything is going pretty well and I am cheerful and reasonable even in the face of chaos and mess and being pulled in a million different directions. And then I have several weeks in a row of utter frustration. Days when I call my husband and ask if he can please come home now before I kill one of the children. Moments when I realize that I am probably capable of injuring my children if I don't get away from them right now. Nights when I vow in the silent hours after bedtime that tomorrow will be better, and then I wake up the next morning and blow up at the first frustration I face. Quiet conversations where my husband tells me (in the nicest possible way) that I really need to get a grip. Dark hours when I realize that I'm simply not up to the task of mothering these children. I cannot take one more tantrum, one more mess, one more forgotten homework assignment, one more obstinate piano practice session.

And at those helpless moments, I think God is saying to himself, "Oh good, she's finally realized she needs me." I am a desperate, broken sinner in need of saving every moment. The truth is, I can't do this mothering thing. It's not my imagination: the demands of life are impossible. But with God all things are possible.

Those weeks where everything is going pretty well and I'm mostly cheerful? Those are the weeks I've been praying. Praying for my children, praying for myself, simply crying out "Daddy, Daddy" to my heavenly father in those moments when I can't go on. I only wish that it didn't take desperate moments for me to remember to climb back into my heavenly Father's lap.

Getting It All Done

Mom is one of the most stressful jobs in the world. At any given moment you might be required to suddenly don the hat of doctor/nurse, chauffeur, cook, math teacher, music teacher, therapist, or housekeeper. And that's not even including the jobs required for taking care of a baby. You have no warning about what demand might come at you in the next minute. And then there are the more important but less urgent mothering jobs, things like planning for your children's education or spiritual development. Deciding which opportunities they should take and which to let pass by. Many paid jobs are stressful too, but they aren't as all-consuming and long-term as Mom--this job is 24/7 for your whole life!

A few summers ago I read a book called Lies Women Believe and the Truth That Sets Them Free by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. It was a good book, but the one thing that really stuck with me was this truth: I have time for everything God has given me to do today. How freeing! God has given us mortals a set amount of hours in each day, and he will not give us more jobs than we are supposed to do in that day. If we feel like we are not able to get everything done in a given day (in every given day, it sometimes feels like), that's because we are taking on more than we should or different things than we should.

There is never enough time to do everything that is one everyone else's to-do list for Mom. You cannot do it all--be a cheerful wife and mother, keep a clean and organized house, prepare healthy from-scratch meals every day, help at your kids' school and at church, keep physically fit, wear the latest fashions, keep up on current events, and have a job outside the home.

But God didn't give you all of those jobs. DeMoss writes, "Frustration is the by-product of attempting to fulfill responsibilities God does not intend for us to carry. Freedom, joy, and fruitfulness come from seeking to determine God's priorities for each season of life and then setting out to fulfill those priorities, in the power of His Spirit, realizing that He has provided the necessary time and ability to do everything that He has called us to do."

I want to replace my frustration with freedom, joy, and fruitfulness. I think part of the key is in that phrase she uses, "for each season of life." Much of my frustration comes from trying to do things in the wrong season. When my kids are babies and constantly getting colds is probably not the season to work in the nursery, since I'm usually home with them for about half the Sundays between November and March. But when they are a little older and one of them can serve in the nursery with me is probably a good season for that. On the other hand, the elementary school years are the right season to help in the kids' school. The season of being home with babies might be the right time to be in a book study with neighbors, but it's probably not the time to try to get my house onto the cover of HouseBeautiful.

I suppose the big question is how do you determine what is right for your season of life? Prayer obviously plays a big part. Asking the advice of older women is often helpful. Sitting down with a pencil and paper and deciding what your goals and priorities are is a good exercise. If your goals for this season are personal spiritual growth, a healthy marriage, and caring for young children, your time will spent differently than if your goals are a cheeful, orderly home, hospitality, and paying for a child's college education.

On those days when 100 demands are coming at you from every direction, just repeat that mantra to yourself: I have time for everything I am supposed to do today. Then ask God to show you what is most important and free yourself from the rest of it.

And since it's Friday, how about this oldie but goodie:

The Invisible Mom

Sometimes I feel like I'm invisible to my children. Maybe I'm some kind of superhero with an invisibility cloak. That would explain why they ignore me when I'm telling them to clean up the socks they left in the middle of the living room. again. Why they ask me for advice on an assignment and then do the opposite of what I've suggested. Why the first words out of their mouth after school are "can I have someone over?" rather than "hi, Mom!"

I am certainly useful in their little lives--wiping up their messes, drying their tears, reading books to them, feeding them, taking them places, and buying them stuff. But I doubt they know my favorite kind of flower or care about what book I'm reading. It makes no difference to them that I graduated Magna Cum Laude from Wheaton College or at one time could write A-level papers on great works of literature. They don't ask about my day or think to offer to make me a snack.

It used to bother me, this invisibility. But now that I've given it some thought, I think that's the way things should be. If my children notice me, then probably I am drawing attention to myself rather than to the God I serve. When they think back on their childhood, I want my children to remember the happy memories I helped create, not my martyred look as I got up extra early to make cinnamon rolls and decorate the table. I want them to see a comfortable home, not a shrine to mom. I want their life purpose to be to love and serve God, not me.

Now, on some level I think it's appropriate to draw my children's attention to the service I do for them. It's not right for them to treat me--and later a spouse or friend--like a slave. Kids need to be taught to notice and say thank you when someone does something kind for them. But my overall goal should be to serve God by serving my children, not to do what I can to make myself feel loved and appreciated.

My mind is drawn once again to that email that circulated a few years ago about how mothers are building cathedrals. Just like the countless men who build the great cathedrals, our works--and sometimes we ourselves--are invisible, but we are building great monuments. Who knows whether one note tucked into a lunch box or one conversation on the way home from piano lessons will make all the difference in the lives of our children. The author writes,

"'No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.' At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my  life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride."


Jesus put it a different way: "Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me" (Matthew 25:40). Every nose I wipe, every diaper I change, every late-night ride home from an activity, every load of laundry can be done as unto the Lord. Thinking about that infuses these mundane tasks with purpose. Jesus sees every thankless, boring, invisible task we do to serve others--and he is in the business of redeeming those things for his glory in our lives, in the lives of our children, and before a watching world.

Motherhood is, in many ways, a thankless task. And that's a good thing. 

Sheltered Parenting

I didn't plan to write an entry today. But this article (which is excerpted from a longer article) is so good I couldn't resist sharing it. It's written from a homeschool perspective, but applicable to any of us who try to raise our children in a sheltered environment in one way or another. The two things that really hit home to me were these:

"A friend of mine, a homeschool mom, just passed away of cancer. In the week before she died, I asked her if she had any regrets in her life. She told me she wished she had baked less bread - she said if she had it to do over again she would buy bread and spend more time with her children. She had invested time and energy in pursuing the "path" because she thought it was part of the spiritual homeschool package."

Oh, I have so often done that. I used to try whatever thrifty or homemakery thing I came across on blogs or in books. Bread baking. Cloth diapering. All-natural cooking. Making my own soap. Freezer cooking. Couponing. Some of it I still go back to every now and then, and none of those things are bad in an of themselves. But they are not righteous Christian things in and of themselves either. They are just choices that sometimes fit with my life as a good thing and sometimes don't, and they need to stay in that category. And certainly if they are interfering with more important priorities, they need to go.

And the other one:
"As I look back, I see that with my older children I was too concerned with how they were perceived by others. I saw their behavior as a reflection on me, and I wanted to look good. They, therefore, sensed in me a measure of pretentiousness--not the genuineness of faith that would have drawn them to me or to the Jesus I spoke about. My sincere concern for their character was overshadowed by my concern for my reputation."

It's that darn pride thing rearing its ugly head again. My parenting choices should never be motivated by pride or concern for my reputation. But that's easier said than done. When my child is embarrassing me by being bossy or selfish or annoying, I am usually less concerned with WHY they are acting that way than I am with stopping that behavior now and forevermore. So I jump all over the behavior rather than getting to the root of the matter with patience and grace. That may look like successful parenting in the short-term, but not in the long-term. And it's parenting that is all about me, not all about God and his work of grace in my life and the lives of my children.

And one final quote, the author talking about his relationship with his son:
"It is no exaggeration - in our efforts to shape and improve him, all we did was find fault with everything he did. We loved him dearly, but he constantly heard from us that what he did (who he was) wasn't good enough."

How easy it is for me to fall into that over-correcting trap.

All of these thoughts bring me to my knees with these words on my lips: Oh, Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner! And then in the next breath, Thank you, Jesus, for your forgiveness and grace!

More than a Mom

First of all, thanks for all the comments! I never thought I'd have a blog, and now I have a blog with followers! And some of you I haven't even met before. I am honored that you would read my little ramblings.

When my third child was about a year old and my oldest was around 5, which would have made my middle child two, my husband took up biking as a hobby. He started bike commuting, I bought him a nice bike for his birthday, and he did a mini-triathlon. Nice, healthy hobby. And then he brought up the idea of taking a 5-night bike trip with a buddy. Looking back on it, I have no idea why this seemed like a big deal to me. Maybe it was because I had two children under two and had just endured a move and total remodel of our house. Maybe it was hormones. Anyhow, his simple request turned into an identity crisis for me.

You see, my dear husband offered me a trade-off trip. And I realized that I had no place to go and no one to go there with. And that, in turn, made me realize that I had no identity beyond mom. My main hobby was scrapbooking, which centers around my children. I read parenting books. I shopped for cute children's clothes, or clothes for me that were easy-care for the cheerio slime my children wiped on me and easy-access for nursing. I read parenting blogs. I went on girls' weekends with a nursing baby in tow. I had nothing that was just mine, like biking had become for my husband.

In the end I took a trip to England with my parents as my trade-off week, so the immediate crisis had passed.

But the question of who am I besides MOM still rankled. Eventually I took up jewelry-making, found a ministry outlet at church that was unrelated to children, and joined a neighborhood Bible study with women further along the life journey. I had once again found myself. And in the process I had learned something important: a mom needs to be more than a mom.

It's easy to wrap ourselves in our children. After all, they take up endless amounts of time and energy. We love them dearly and would sacrifice anything for them. And we want to do this job well, because so much is at stake. But our children and husband can easily become our idols if we're not careful.

We can't give our best to our families if we haven't cared for ourselves in some way.

That should start, of course, with time spent at the feet of Jesus. As Christians, we are first of all daughters of the King. That's where our identity comes from--our Creator has saved us from sin and self and adopted us as a beloved daughter.

Beyond that, it's important to figure out some way to honor the gifts and interests He has placed in us. When our children are still at home, we are mainly moms--that is our primary calling--but we are not only moms.

What is that thing you've always wanted to do "when the kids are older"? Carve out some time and finances and take a step toward that goal. If you don't have something in mind, find a park district class that looks fun and sign up for it. Find a hobby that is unrelated to your kids. Do something that is just for you. It'll make you a better mom and a more interesting person.

Your turn: what is your "more than a mom" hobby? Or what do you want to start doing, if you don't already have one?