Tag Archives: motherhood

A Perspective for the Messiness of Motherhood

18 Jul

I am hemorrhaging sanity.

And it’s not just that I can’t remember to do things, or recall basic facts. Or that I can’t think a coherent thought or accomplish anything requiring adult mental capacities.

I’m talking complete psychosis. A full mental breakdown. Like I’m one horrible day away from pulling a stunt like Vivi Abbott Walker did in Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood: just up and leaving one day, telling no one where I’m going, or for how long. Except I’d probably escape to Canada instead of Mexico, simply due to proximity.

Motherhood is relentless. And truth be told, it’s full of a lot things that are just plain boring, and other things that are actually odious. Stay-at-home moms like myself work all day doing things that immediately get undone. There is no actual task that is ever completed once and for all. My job is to simply keep the chaos at bay. If my house looks exactly the same at the end of the day as it did at the beginning, I have been productive.

In my finer moments, I actually don’t mind doing dishes or laundry. I don’t mind grocery shopping or meal planning. (I do hate cleaning, and it shows.) But after a while, doing the same thing over and over to simply maintain the status quo starts to wear on you.

And that doesn’t even touch the tip of the parenting iceberg. Take the never-ending loop of household chores, add in a screaming toddler and whiny preschooler, subtract any time for yourself—that’s the recipe for total mental meltdown.

I can’t help but compare myself to the women out there who seem to be unruffled by anything, who seem completely confident and competent in their parenting decisions, who have tuned their family routines to be a finely humming orchestra, and who still have time to get ready each day, make elaborate and fun meals, blog, write books, pursue hobbies, exercise, and take amazing Instagram pictures of it all. I mean, who are these women?!?!

That’s not me. I’m just throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks. My life is a total crapshoot. I don’t have the confidence or insight to know what routine or rhythm would work well for our family, and even when I do have the slightest hint, I lack the discipline to carry it out.

It’s right about here that the voices in my head start piping up. One says that I should just extend grace to myself because I have two young kids, one of which has not slept well for the past 9 months of her life, and the other is a very high-energy, high-need child. The other voice says that making changes to our family routine isn’t about increasing productivity or trying to run a business on the side. It’s about survival. Because I am literally losing my mind, and that is not working for me.

I haven’t even figured out how to accomplish the basics on a regular basis. I frequently find myself completely over grocery shopping and meal planning, so I just don’t do it. Travis asks what’s for dinner, and I shrug. What I want to say is “I don’t effing care, you figure it out.” Instead, I stumble to the kitchen on the fumes of willpower and hodge-podge something together using frozen vegetables and a box of pasta.

I clean bathrooms about once a month. I change sheets about every two. I can’t remember the last time I vacuumed downstairs and we have never washed windowsills in our current house (even though they are disgustingly filthy).  The girls can sense whenever I’m mustering up motivation to accomplish something out of the ordinary because without fail, that’s when they unleash their most unruly tantrums.

All my fantasies lately are about relaxation. It’s me, a good book, and a bed. I check out of my life by reading some brain candy. Reading transitions into naptime. After naptime comes leisure time. Remember leisure time, time to do the things you enjoy? Does that still exist somewhere in the world?

Instead, I find myself trapped in a life that requires me to spend all of my time and energy on things I don’t want to do, like change poopy diapers, fix 10 snacks a day, clean up messes and spills every five minutes, schlep four armloads of stuff to and from the beach for an hour of play, and my favorite, deal with two screaming, tantrum-y kids simultaneously while my husband is out fishing.

The cherry on top of the crap sundae is the nitpicky bickering in marriage over NOTHING and EVERYTHING caused by both spouses being overextended and stressed out. Somedays I’m *this close* from going to bed for the rest of the year.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a wonderful husband and my marriage is actually in a pretty good place. Even so, it often echoes the theme of my life right now: EVERYTHING IS A BATTLE. It’s a battle to be a loving spouse. To let things go in the name of unity and love instead of demanding that things be done or said how I want them to. To find time and mental energy for doing thoughtful, kind things for my husband.  To view him as more than just the replacement babysitter or the impediment to doing what I want.

It’s a battle to parent. To control my own emotions and use wisdom instead of anger and heavy-handedness. To balance spending time with the girls and getting things done. To just get enough freakin’ sleep.

It’s a battle to manage my household. To maintain the necessary energy and level of giving a crap to keep up on all the monotonous chores. To not compare my house organization and decorating style to other women’s, or to at least not feel like mine’s a bag of lumpy cheese compared to theirs.

It’s a battle to be a Christian. To find time for Bible study, prayer, evangelism, serving, and all the things I think I “should” be doing.

It’s a battle to have personal time. Actually, let’s be honest, the battle is to be ok with not having personal time, with having a long list of things I’d like to do but don’t have the time or energy to do after having spent all of my time and energy herding toddlers, completing the basic tasks of survival, and preventing our house from being condemned.

But in the midst of all this “NESS” (as my old boss Carol Ann Kelly used to say), you want to know what’s awesome?

Jesus came for messes like me.

We Christians often say to unbelievers that you don’t have to clean yourself up in order to come to Jesus. In fact, “if you tarry until you’re better, you will never come at all.”

What we don’t often say is that this is a message for us too. Because even when you put your faith and trust in Jesus, you don’t stop being a mess. You don’t stop being a sinner in need of a Savior. In fact, sanctification–the process of becoming more like Jesus in your character and spirit—almost always involves seeing more of your sin, admitting your mess, and humbling yourself through repentance and apologies. Sanctification is sacred work, yes, but it is borne of blood, sweat, and tears. “For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it” (Hebrews 12:11).

I usually think of discipline as “the practice of training people to obey rules or a code of behavior, using punishment to correct disobedience,” but it can also be defined as “the practice of training oneself to do something in a controlled and habitual way.” Learning to repent and apologize for my own sin is discipline, but so is spending my days doing things I don’t want to do. It is painful in the moment to persevere in the cycle of clean, wash, organize, tidy—especially when my flesh is screaming “I don’t want to!”—but this verse in Hebrews reassures me that IT IS ALL WORTH IT. In my unbelief cloaked by twilight, all I can see is despair, discouragement, and the lie that It Will Always Be Like This. But at the faintest hint of dawn, when tendrils of sunlight touch dewy grass, my languid soul is revived and I am reminded that God is using even this to accomplish His purposes, “…that he who began a good work in [me] will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6).

So then, the truth of God’s love and redemption remains the same. It is just as true on the days when the refrigerator is bare, I’ve lost my temper three times before noon, and I never change out of my pajamas, as it is on the days when I sneak in a run and Bible study before breakfast, the girls are getting along, and I am caught up on chores.

And that’s the challenge—are we willing to come to Jesus at all times, in our competence or in our mess? Are we willing to surrender our life, whether it’s going well or it’s hitting the fan, to God and His purposes? Or will we stand far off, demanding control and wishing life were different, unwilling to let ourselves rest or be healed because of our pride and stubbornness?

The messiness of motherhood reminds me of a beloved quote from Joel Warne’s book Soul Craving:

There are times, though, when transformation simply doesn’t come, times when our hunger for a new way to be remains unfed. At those times… simply rest with God in your problem. Simply be with him in your sin, your emptiness, your failure. Rest quietly with him in your confusion, your paralysis. Sit next to him in the wound that won’t heal, the pain that won’t subside, the desert that never ends… Here the still center of your love affair with Jesus Christ rests steady, unmoved, unquenched, unconquered by your unresolved messes. Here your love for God really does take precedence. It is no longer a means to an end, a kind of convenient tool to work your own liberation…

Sometimes, our very desire to be transformed into the new creation God wants us to be must be considered rubbish in comparison with simply knowing Christ. Is it enough for you to simply love him? To draw close to him, to offer him your affection? If intimately abiding with Jesus produced no change at all within you, could you be satisfied to simply remain with him in all your painful, unresolved stuff? (199-201).

Even in the messiness of motherhood, we must come to Jesus. We must keep our eyes fixed on Him, and Him alone. Not on Pinterest or Facebook. Not on “other moms” or “other bloggers.” Not on what we “should be able to handle” or what life was like before kids. ON CHRIST ALONE. On His provision of mercy and grace for this moment, right now. He wants us to live in continual dependence on Him and His Spirit, and He will use the circumstances of our lives to get us down on our knees in humble submission.

How does one reclaim sanity amid the never-ending demand and crisis that is parenting?

I don’t know.

But I do know that “there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1) and “the LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O LORD, endures forever” (Psalm 138:8).

And with promises like that, who needs sanity?

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Make Time for Yourself by Trusting in God

21 Jun

IMG_20160621_105344An idea that seems rather ubiquitous right now in the online and book world for women, moms in particular, is “Prioritize yourself.” What they mean by that is to intentionally carve out time for yourself to pursue your own interests, to do things because you want to and not because you have to, and to get sufficient rest instead of running yourself ragged.

That this common theme is being touted by many sources in a variety of contexts shows that this is a message moms need to hear. If my experience proves anything, it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking you always need to “be on”—that if you don’t do something, it won’t get done; and if it doesn’t get done, all hell will break loose.

Just the other weekend, Travis and I took the girls to a nearby waterpark. Usually I’m the one who packs the suits, towels, change of clothes, sunscreen, etc. But that day, Travis remarked that he was packing a bag with our clothes. So despite the weird feeling of not being in control, I let go and let Travis pack. When we arrived at the waterpark, however, I discovered that he had meant he was packing our changes of clothes, and we had brought nothing for the girls—no clothes, no regular or swim diapers, and no swimsuit bottom for Annabelle (we had put sunscreen on before leaving the house). My initial reaction was anger and “See! If I don’t do things, they don’t get done!” After 5 minutes and with diapers loaned from our friends, I settled down and could admit that it really was just a breakdown in communication—Travis had thought I was packing the stuff for the girls.

It’s incidences like that that make us moms feel justified in our “Woe is me, I never get a break” attitude. I often feel bitter at Travis for his asking to do stuff on his own or for himself (like running errands alone, going fishing alone, etc.) but the truth is, I could ask to do things for myself too, but I don’t. Why is that? It’s because of this idea that I need to continually manage things, or they won’t get done.

The bigger and more truthful truth is that they most likely will get done… they just won’t get done the way I do them, or when I would do them. There are those times they really don’t get done, but you know what? The world keeps spinning. All hell doesn’t break loose. And I hate to admit it, but there are even times when I realize that… certain things aren’t even necessary. (Shocker, right?)

That means it’s ok for me to use a naptime for writing, even if it means the dirty dishes and Mount Laundry remain untouched. It’s ok for me to leave the girls with daddy on a Saturday to go on a run instead of run to the store, even if it means we scrounge through the fridge for a hodge podge dinner that night. It’s ok for me to head to Bible study even if Annabelle isn’t down for the night, and it means Travis will have to handle putting both girls to bed on his own (like I have done many times).

The more I’ve analyzed my reluctance to take a break from being the mom and adult, the more I realize that that reluctance comes from pride. It comes from me thinking that I’m indispensable. That no one can do what I do, or more accurately, no one can do what I do exactly the way I do it. And My Way is the Right Way.

Last week, Travis and I had a dinner date to talk through some challenges and communication issues in our marriage, and we realized that all this time, we’ve been thinking that to be on the same team as parents, we needed to handle situations exactly the same way. What a ludicrous thought! We don’t need to be the same parent to be on the same team—we just need to agree on overarching principles and have one another’s back on in-the-moment decisions.

This is why it’s good to remind moms—especially Type A, OCD, control freaks like me—that it’s ok to take a break, and that the world won’t fall apart in their absence.

BUT…

We are humans, which means we are sinners. And there is an aspect to this idea of “Prioritize yourself” that could prove to be unhelpful. Satan knows that we are, by nature, selfish. In his sermon “Splitness” using Romans 7:1-9 and 18-25, and the classic book “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” by Robert Louis Stevenson, Pastor Tim Keller agrees with Stevenson that all the evil in the world is caused by self-centeredness: “Every thought centering on the self.”

What I’m trying to say is: our sinful, selfish selves could take this bait of prioritizing ourselves and use it to our detriment. We can fall into the mindset that we “deserve” to have time to ourselves, that we “need” to pursue hobbies for our own mental sanity, and that we’re “losing our true identities” in the throes of motherhood. Some of the most dangerous, discontentment-breeding words for a mother are “All I want is…” “All I want is some peace and quiet.” “All I want is to drink my cup of coffee before it gets cold.” “All I want is to read a single paragraph without being interrupted.” “All I want is for the kids to go the eff to sleep already!” Let’s be honest, we really don’t need anything tempting us to be more selfish. Because we do a fine job on our own, thankyouverymuch.

But, you might say, moms are being reminded to rest and pursue their own hobbies because they are pouring out every single drop of energy and focus on their families! That’s not selfish.

Or is it?

As I’ve already pointed out, my own reluctance to taking a break comes from pride, from a self-concerned need to control everything. In those instances, I’m refusing to do what I really need to do for my own mental health and energy levels because I’m more concerned about the laundry getting done, or Travis not feeling abandoned, or the girls not being a handful. I have a puffed-up estimation of my own importance.

Those are the two extremes. On one hand, there is the extreme of playing the martyr and running on fumes to serve your family. On the other hand, there is the extreme of thinking that we are entitled to our own time and need it at all costs.

But there is a third way. It is a delicate balance between the two, and only possible by depending on God’s guidance through the Holy Spirit.

We humbly come before God and relinquish our indispensable mother role. We admit that He’s got our family in His hands, and we can rest and sleep because He never does. We can see the reality that we have been doing too much, and trying too hard, because we were depending on ourselves to get it all done. We receive the gift of rest, and of pursuing hobbies, and of doing things that simply delight us, and we appreciate the people who enable it to happen.

But we also hold those gifts with open hands, so that on the days that naptimes don’t overlap, or daddy feels sick when he’s supposed to watch the kids, or kids don’t sleep well so our morning routines aren’t possible, we have grace. We don’t mumble or grow frustrated that we were robbed of the time that we needed for ourselves. We believe that God will provide for us exactly what we need. Some days His grace comes in the form of time to rest or pursue hobbies. Some days it comes in the form of sustained energy and patience in the face of kids throwing tantrums and babies who won’t sleep.

Yes, it is good for moms to rest. Yes, it is good for moms to pursue their hobbies, or simply get time away. But let us pursue these things in faith, trusting in the God who “richly provides us with everything to enjoy” (1 Timothy 6:17) and who “[supplies] every need of [ours] according to his riches in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19).

“Then Jesus told his disciples, ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.’” (Matthew 16:24)

“‘Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.’” (Matthew 6:34)

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 2:3-11)

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:4-7)

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Grief.

21 Mar

My mom is dead. My mom died.

I keep repeating those words in my head, unable to comprehend this truth. We knew it was a possibility, even a probability, for so long and yet now that it’s happened, it doesn’t feel real.

Other times it feels like a stab in the heart. Or like an elephant sitting on my chest. Like a nightmare I can’t outrun. Like someone else’s life I am observing. Like the whole world is different. Like the world is the same and I’m different.

With two young kids, I don’t have the option of sitting around grieving. And to be honest, even though spending extra time in bed or on the couch sounds appealing, I want to keep moving forward with life – if for no other reason than my mom would’ve wanted me to. Even in her last weeks and months, she was worried most about how her death would affect us, how we would handle the gaping hole she left in her wake. She was concerned about other people so much that it drove me crazy sometimes!

She loved being a mom, and for the past four years, a grandma. There is hardly any aspect about mothering now that does not remind me of her. When I nurse Annabelle, I think of my mom nursing me until I was over 2 (so she said, I don’t remember it). When I rock either girl in my arms, I think of my mom, who loved, loved, loved rocking babies (no sleep training for that woman!). When they cry, I think of how she wouldn’t have been able to stand it—her momma bear instinct was too fierce.

Those reminders of her make me want to be a better mom. A mom who is more patient, loving, kind, gentle, self-controlled and self-sacrificing. I want to “major on the majors” and make sure I find time for the most important things, not let my days get eaten up with things that don’t really matter (even if they’re things I enjoy). I want to live my life with joy and passion, to pursue my dreams, to make the best use of my days. I want to enjoy being a mother, to truly embrace my role and not just view my girls as impediments to my freedom and personal time (which I do sometimes because I’m selfish). I want to be compassionate and patient with my girls, to hold them when they’re crying, to get on their level and understand what’s wrong instead of getting mad that they’re being difficult. Because life is short, and I want to look back on these years able to say that I loved deeply and lived well.

As we sat by my mom in her last hours, my dad, older brother Jeremy, sister-in-law Jen, younger brother Chris, and I all took turns rubbing her arms and hands. Her freckled hands were as familiar to me as my own. They were her instruments of serving and healing. Those hands cared for us, patched wounds, massaged backs and legs, changed diapers, blew noses, washed bodies, applied sunscreen, dried hair, cooked meals, wiped tears.

I find myself wishing I could talk to her in prayer like Jesus. Even though we were blessed with time for saying goodbye in long, heartfelt conversations, I find myself replaying what I said and wondering, “Why in the world didn’t I bring up more fond memories, instead of her being left alone with all the kids for hours by my dad and grandparents, and her throwing the hairdryer in anger at me when I was being extremely difficult? Did I even tell her that I thought she was an amazing mom and friend, and loved her to the core of my being?” So I ask Jesus to tell my mom that I love her and miss her, and that those aren’t what I think of when I remember her.

Instead, I’ll think of how she was my favorite person on earth next to my husband and babies. I’ll think about how familiar and dear she was to me, and how genuinely I enjoyed being around her. Yes, it’s true her worrywart tendencies drove me crazy sometimes, but isn’t that a mark of true intimacy? I’ll think about the weeks last summer that the girls and I spent with her while Travis traveled. Precious memories. I took them so very much for granted. If I had known then that she’d be gone by now…

But here’s the thing about watching someone die from cancer or disease: you often don’t know what to do or say. Even as a Christian with the greatest hope in the world, I stumbled through conversations and interactions because I just didn’t know. You can’t fully understand what the other person is experiencing, and you’re dealing with your own hard, mixed emotions about the whole situation. You want to be positive, but not Pollyanna. You want to be encouraging, but realistic. You want to empathize with their sorrow and fear, but not contribute or add to it. You want to ask about the situation, but you also want to distract them from it.

What I decided early on, especially since it was my mom, was that I was just going to show up and be real. I was going to try hard to point her to Jesus, and remind her of the hope she had in Him, but if I didn’t have the words, or know what to say, I’d just be there anyway. And I’d say, “I’m not sure what to say.”

Same with being by her side in those last days. What do you do in that situation? I wasn’t sure, but before I even left my house, I determined that I would not let my weird hangups or fear of awkwardness make me regret not doing something for her or with her at the end of her time on earth. So I sat by her on the bed, holding her hand. I hugged her, and rested my head on her shoulder when I saw tears in the corners of her eyes as she listened to a music therapist named Julie sing Beyond the Sunset with just her voice and an acoustic guitar. I wiped her mouth, dotted chapstick on her dry lips, and told her through sobs that this wasn’t the way I’d remember her—that there was this picture from the Mexican family reunion where she was playing a guitar made out of a skewer and aluminum sheet pan and laughing. That’s how I’ll remember her.

My brother Chris called the Tuesday before she died. “They don’t think she has long left,” he said. Even though I had visited her in the middle of January and said what I wanted to say, how do you not rush to the bedside of one you love so dear? So I packed up and hit the road with Annabelle (Travis would follow with Tina Tornado on the weekend so that I could have some quiet time with my mom), arriving in Rochester Tuesday evening. As I was unloading the car, my dad took Annabelle up to see my mom. He said she just lit up when Annabelle entered the room.

That night and Wednesday, she was alert for 30 minutes or so every few hours. Wednesday night, my dad woke up Jeremy, Jen and me in the middle of the night, thinking that the end was near. But her heart was stubborn and held on for all of Thursday too. That was a long day. Some extended family came to visit. The music therapist and hospice nurse came for a bit. Several times, we thought the end was close, but she recovered, heart beating, lungs breathing.

Thursday night, we went to bed around 10:30. About 12:15 am on Friday, I woke up to my dad nudging me and he simply said, “She’s gone.” I got up and followed him into the hall, where we talked to my brother and sister-in-law a bit. We said good night and headed back to bed, but the second I got under the covers, I was like, “What am I doing? I can’t go back to sleep right now!”

So I headed upstairs and asked if I could see her. And it was true: she was gone. Just the shell of her earthly body remained. Her soul, the real her, was in heaven with Jesus. Chris said truthfully, “Now we’re the ones to feel sorry for.”

My dad called the funeral home and they said they’d be out in 30 minutes to take her body. So Chris went and got Jeremy and Jen, and we all stayed in the bedroom until the funeral home people arrived.

While they carried her body out of the house, the rest of us moved into the kitchen and Chris jokingly suggested taking shots of pickle juice (one of my mom’s favorite things) in her honor. “Let’s do it!” I said. So the five of us said, “Cheers,” and drank shots of pickle juice at 1:00 in the morning.

Early afternoon on Friday, Travis and Emma arrived, and the rest of our time down in Rochester was a blur of funeral preparations, seeing extended family and chasing wild kids. That was one of the hardest weeks of my life, and I was relieved when I could finally retreat to my own home and familiar comforts. I see vaguely now that part of the reason was that I wanted to escape the relentless reminders of her absence, a luxury my dad doesn’t have.

Two weekends ago, I returned to Rochester for the first time since my mom died. As I walked in the door of my parents’ house and saw a peace lily from the funeral my dad had placed on the piano, it hit me afresh that my mom was gone. It was just his house now. Little by little, evidences of her decorating, organization, presence will disappear. We boxed up unused medical supplies and sorted through her clothes, personal items, jewelry, shoes, and purses while I was there, making piles of things to keep, things to sell, things to throw. I know it’s time to do these things but it still just feels too sudden, too soon.  I haven’t been able to delete her contact from my phone because it feels like I’d be erasing her. I know it’s not… but still.

Grief is a process, and as the hospice chaplain told us, it’s different for everyone. When I focus on this earthly life, I am devastated my mom died. But when I remember the hope of heaven, and the fact that she’s there now, I feel peaceful. As one of the wonderful sympathy cards we received says (in the words of M.B. Anderson): “God confidently assures us—in the great symphony of life, the final refrain for the believing heart is triumphant, everlasting JOY.”

We’re sad on earth, but my mom is celebrating in Jesus’ presence. We saw her earthly life end, but she is living a glorious beginning.

“Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!” (1 Cor. 15:54-57)

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Mother’s Day 2015

20 May

I am very behind on blog posts but since I love to look back at old posts and be reminded of what life was like 1, 2, 5 years ago, I am going to post about these things even though they’re not really ‘timely’ anymore.

For Mother’s Day this year, Travis took care of the girls and let me sleep in. When I got up around 8:15, he had homemade waffles and eggs waiting for me. Delicious!

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We went to the second service at church and then headed home for lunch, which was a veggie pizza from Papa Murphy’s, one of my favorites. When Emma went down for a nap and Annabelle had nursed, I headed to the Y for a swim (this triathlon won’t train for itself). As I swam up and down the pool, lap after lap in my own underwater world, I was transported back to the season of my life when I spent hours upon hours every week getting my body in shape for a race. I remembered the challenge of pushing myself. The satisfaction of being a little sore after a good workout. The thrill of doing something I previously couldn’t. These are the reasons I love endurance sports.

After my wonderful swim (a one-sided pyramid of 200, 50, 300, 50, 400 yards), I went home, nursed Annabelle and we got ready for dinner at Olive Garden. It was a zoo there. We waited 25 minutes for a table and then another hour for our food. Emma was a little rambunctious but she was actually pretty well-behaved considering the situation. Annabelle wasn’t the most content baby ever and I ended having to nurse her a bit. Travis and I didn’t really talk at all during dinner because we were just focused on keeping the kids happy. Ah, such is the life of a mother (and father).

After we got home, Emma went to bed, I spent some more time nursing and bouncing Annabelle and we called it a day. It was a very enjoyable day — the only thing that would’ve made it better is a nap.

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2014 Recap + 2015 Outlook

20 Jan

I better get on my year-end / year-beginning post before January is over, huh?

So, 2014. Another year of big changes. Here were my “areas of focus”:

1) Spend time with God daily.

I didn’t spend time with God every day, but it was close. God gave me a renewed desire this year to spend time soaking up truth through His word and prayer. And now that Emma is going through a tough phase of toddlerhood, I need to be refreshed and grounded in God every day to have a good attitude and patience. But let’s be honest – there’s no season of life when I don’t need that.

2) Eat healthy foods.

It took me a long while after Emma was born to get back into healthy eating habits, but I did finally! And with this pregnancy, I haven’t been having many cravings, so I’ve been able to stick to our normal meal plan for the most part. So I’d say this was achieved.

3) Exercise.

Finding the time and motivation for exercise is still a challenge, but nothing motivates me more than signing up for a race. Training for and running the Hot Chocolate 15K in April got me running again, and so did finding a friend who enjoyed running and lived close to me (thanks Brenda!). I wasn’t as consistent as I’d like to be, but it was an improvement.

4) Stick to a budget.

We nailed this! Honestly, starting to use YNAB (You Need a Budget) changed our budgeting lives. I love the software and cannot speak more highly of it (I am not getting paid to say this). While it took a little getting used to at first, once we got the hang of it, it has helped us track where our money is going, save up for biannual and annual expenses, and make decisions about purchases based on whether or not we actually have the money for it (which we can check on the go on our smart phones). One of the YNAB ‘rules’ is to live off last month’s income, and it seriously takes the stress out of paying bills or having paychecks arrive late. And Travis has been getting a lot of overtime pay, so we can budget based on the actual amount of money he earned instead of a hypothetical number. It has been an adjustment to actually forego or postpone purchases until the next month (and the next infusion of money) at times, but it is teaching us delayed gratification and helping us be better stewards of our money. Now if I could only figure out how to spend less money on groceries…

And now on to 2015.

I know they say that goals are supposed to be specific, measurable, timely and whatever else. Well, this year I have a lot of intangible, nonspecific goals. Though I do have 2 specific, measurable goals:

1) Give birth.

2) Start and finish the Northwoods Triathlon on August 8.

My other goals are things like:

  • Don’t let newborn sleep deprivation turn me into a raging b!t@h. (Trust God to provide sleep.)
  • Pray for and see my mom be healed.
  • Spend more time playing with Emma instead of getting stuff done.
  • Support my husband more sacrificially and selflessly.
  • Read more books and watch less TV.
  • Go on bike rides in the summer.
  • Be more intentional about inviting people over, or getting together.
  • Finish my book and either self-publish, or seek publication!

I find that life is a constant balance between being realistic and being lazy. I want to live intentionally but I also don’t want to beat myself up over not achieving arbitrary goals that I chose in an over-zealous mood one January day. The way I balance those two things is by reminding myself of this (my memory verse for Jan/Feb/Mar):

“I glorified you on earth, having accomplished the work that you gave me to do.” (John 17:4)

If Jesus glorified the Father by accomplishing the work that He was given, that’s also how I glorify the Father. And the work God has given me to do is revealed every day through my roles and circumstances. I am called to be a wife and mother. Some days I am called to use naptime for holding Emma instead of accomplishing my to-do list. Most days I get up early to read the Bible, but some mornings (after particularly hard nights), it just doesn’t happen. I adapt, and continue walking with God through whatever that day brings.

The past month, I have been learning and relearning how to LET GO. No matter how many times I learn that embracing God’s will for me is the path to joy, it is still SO HARD to do — even with little things! Because often His will involves hard or unappealing circumstances. But I am learning. I am learning to let go of my goals, dreams, plans — not in a defeatist mentality, but in faith that “God…fulfills His purpose for me.” (Psalm 57:2) I can trust all of me to the One who knows me, and created me for a specific purpose. He is shaping my life, this life, into something beautiful. (On a related note, read this blog post about The Invisible Mother that a MOPS mom shared yesterday. SO GOOD.)

I wrote this in my journal back at the end of November and I think it ends this post nicely:

“It is a constant battle to surrender my will, my expectations, my standards, my desires, my longings [to God]. To lay my whole self down at the foot of the cross and to say with full sincerity that I will follow the Lord anywhere — even into the day of mediocrity and petty frustrations and klutzy moves and stupid mistakes and minor inconveniences. But I will only find joy in accepting what God has for me.”

That’s what I want for 2015.

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A Day in the Life {12/22/14}

23 Dec

I always think it’s interesting to get a peek into other people’s lives, so here’s a peek into my world yesterday.

5:00 & 6:00 am – I hear Emma cry/moan a little, but it’s too early! So I wait to see if she goes back to sleep, and she does.

7:00 am – I hear Emma again and it’s time to get up anyway, so I go get her out of her crib and try to rock her in the glider for a bit while I wake up. She’s raring to go though, so I change her diaper and let her play.

7:30 am – I get Emma breakfast (yogurt, raspberries, oatmeal squares) while I drink coffee and eat a yogurt. I go wake Travis up too.

7:50 am – Travis is up with his coffee and we do our morning Jesse Tree reading (we’re behind, so we do 2/day).

8:00 am – Wash Emma and let her down to play, while I finish the Jesse Tree script for the remaining days (nothing like the last minute!)

8:45 am – Emma wants to “cook” with water in the kitchen (which she lets me know by pushing one of the kitchen chairs over to the counter), so I set her up and move my computer into the kitchen.

9:00 am – Done! I get Emma dressed, then I get dressed, do my makeup and put my hair up. It’s a no-shower day.

9:20 am – Tidy up our bedroom, change our sheets, start a load of laundry with the dirty ones, do the dishes

10:00 am – Eat a bowl of oatmeal squares with banana while Emma draws at the kitchen table, talk to Travis a bit while he gets another cup of coffee.

10:30 am – Head out to run some errands at Costco (gas), Walmart (a zoo!!) and Office Max.

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12:05 pm – Arrive back home; Emma fell asleep in the car. I plan to wake her up for lunch and have her down for a nap around 1:30 but she is OUT so I carry her in and rock her back to sleep.

12:30 pm – I attempt to put Emma down in her crib, but she freaks out, so I end up holding her for her whole nap. Travis brings me my phone so I read blogs and Facebook, and work on a blog post.

2:15 pm – Emma wakes up. Lunch time! Emma and I both have leftover tacos from the previous night.

2:50 pm – I call my mom to chat a bit about plans for our family celebration happening next week while Emma entertains herself by looking through what we bought at Walmart.

3:20 pm – I pop into Trav’s office to say hi and tell him about what I talked about with my mom.

3:30 pm – Emma and I go downstairs to play and she ends up taking a digger into the wall while playing on the guest bed (poor girl), back upstairs for ice and laundry, then we read books and play with her toys.

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4:30 pm – Emma wants to play with water in the kitchen again, so I wrap a Christmas present while she’s occupied.

4:50 pm – Emma and I make her Christmas presents for Grandma and Grandpa (her participation is supplying the foot and hands for paint).

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5:30 pm – Travis is done with work! I keep working on the gifts for G&G while he entertains Emma. Then we all go on a family walk to the mailbox (yes, it was pitch black outside).

6:15 pm – Travis starts making dinner (elk burgers for us, leftover mac & cheese for E, sweet potato fries for all).

6:50 pm – We eat dinner and do our evening Jesse Tree reading.

7:15 pm – I clean up dinner and do the dishes while Travis gets Emma ready for bed. He gets her bedtime bottle and starts her bedtime routine while I pick up toys.

7:45 pm – Emma is acting like she’s not tired, so we let her play for another 15 minutes.

8:00 pm – Emma’s bedtime! She’s still NOT a fan of the idea, so she cries for 20-30 minutes. I hate it when that happens. But we know she is tired.

8:15 pm – I leave for my women’s Bible study at a friend’s house.

10:30 pm – I’m back home and sooo ready for bed! But I’m also hungry so I eat a bowl of oatmeal squares and watch the end of a Blue Bloods episode with Travis.

11:00 pm – Bed!

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Adding My $.02 to the Age-Old Debate

20 Nov

Since everyone and their grandma has opinions on the working vs. stay-at-home mom debate, let me throw mine into the mix.

I went back to work 3 days a week when Emma was about 4 months old. I was blessed to have such a long maternity leave – I think both Emma and I needed that time together. But even though I was a little nervous at the thought of someone else taking care of Emma, I was ready to go back to work. I needed some structure to my week and was looking forward to having a reason to shower and get dressed nicely.

I enjoyed working 3 days a week. Having 3 days at a computer allowed me time to think coherent thoughts and feel accomplished in a professional sense. It also enabled me to send personal emails, schedule appointments, and play fantasy football (haha) during random downtimes. Even though getting bottles ready, pumping and commuting an hour each way made those days a little hectic, it was nice once I got to work to be able to breathe and have a break from baby stuff.

Working those 3 days also made the days I stayed home with Emma extra special – we stayed in our jammies until noon, did random stuff around the house, ran errands and hung out with friends. I felt more energetic and creative as a mom when I was with Emma as a result of having the time away from her.

When we moved to Minnesota, I stopped working. My employer had already made a special concession to let me go down to 3 days – I doubt they would’ve approved working from home on top of that. I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay anyway. On top of no longer working, we lived 10 minutes outside a town of 300 for 3 months. Talk about a huge shift.

I knew that I couldn’t judge what being a stay-at-home mom is like based on those 3 months, so even though I wasn’t *loving* it, I was patient. I have now been a SAHM with Emma for about 9 months – equal to the time I was a working mom. Emma and I have gotten involved and have a fairly regular weekly routine, so I feel like I have a fairly accurate idea of what being a SAHM is like. And I can say that I prefer working part-time. Don’t get me wrong. There are many things that are great about staying home full-time. I like the ability to get things done during the day instead of taking care of them after work or on the weekends. I like cooking dinner at a reasonable hour. I like seeing Emma grow and learn new things, and being the one taking care of her. I like going to playdates and MOPS and spending time outside.

But just like working outside the home has its challenges, so does staying home. You don’t get a break. You have a little needy person (or persons) with you constantly. It’s impossible to get anything done without being interrupted and some days, you need an extra gallon of patience that never seems to arrive. So sure, hypothetically you have all the time in the world to bake and clean and craft and Facebook, but in reality, you’re just chasing a kid around all day, keeping them from injuring themselves, drawing on your furniture or yanking on the dog’s tail.

More than that though, I miss the personal fulfillment of working. When I gave birth to Emma, I became a mom, but I didn’t stop being me. I am happier and more myself when I have a creative outlet, a personal goal, time to think and accomplish things without a little person tugging on my leg or the worry that naptime will be over soon.

That’s me though. I am not a natural ‘kid person’ and never have been. Some people are, and that’s great. Some moms love staying home, and that’s great. Some moms love working, and that’s great. There are tradeoffs, sacrifices, challenges and benefits of each way. I truly believe that every family needs to do what is right for them. Travis and I are fortunate to have the financial means to make the choice freely. I know other families do not have that option.

What I would like to see is for women to stop picking sides and declaring which way is ‘right’ or ‘better’. Just the other day, I read a supposedly objective essay on this debate, and the author was clearly biased toward staying home (because she happened to be a SAHM). Just because you do things one way doesn’t make it the right way. And let’s be honest, fellow SAHMers – do we REALLY want all of the college-educated, intelligent, driven women to check out of the workforce once they have kids? Do we REALLY want a society run by males? We do not! Women are a crucial part of the workforce.

I realize that I may come across as slightly hypocritical by saying that, since I am not currently working outside the home. Even though I would prefer to work part-time, I have found that the number of professional part-time jobs out there (especially where I currently live) are virtually nonexistent. I know plenty of women who work full-time, but I personally would prefer not to (and I’m blessed to have that choice). So that might make me a hypocrite, but so be it.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on the age-old debate of working vs. stay-at-home mom. Neither is easy. Both have challenges. Both have rewards. All moms love their kids.

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Forever Changed

15 Sep

IMG_0126bw (Large)The thing I still struggle with the most about motherhood is the loss of freedom. I look at people without kids and think, “They have no idea how easy they have it. They only have to worry about themselves. They can do anything they want!” And I kick myself for having taken that freedom for granted while I had it. How many times did I complain about being stressed out and spread too thin before we had Emma? I had no idea.

It’s that lack of freedom that most often makes me question my choice to be a mom. When we were in San Francisco for my brother’s wedding, Travis and I had to leave early, dip out for a time or chase a toddler around the whole time, which severely limited how much we could enjoy the festivities. Most of the time, I can roll with the punches (or the tantrums). But sometimes, I just wish I could go back to the way life was before we had Emma.

Elk hunting in Colorado is coming up in a month. Since we camp in the mountains in a wall tent, elk hunting is pretty much the least baby-friendly activity next to swimming with sharks. A wood stove, dirt floor, knives, guns – yeah, pretty much a nightmare with an 18-month-old. So Emma is going to stay with my parents for the 4 nights, 5 days I’ll be gone. Part of me is very excited for the break. I get to fly and read a magazine instead of entertain a child! I get to read a book during the day! I don’t have to feed anyone else lunch except myself!

The other part of me is panicking. I have only been away from Emma for one single night since she was born. This will be 4 nights, and we’ll be up in the middle of nowhere with no cell reception, so I can’t Skype or call several times a day to check on her. And I won’t see her for 5 days. In a row. How can I last that long without hearing her giggle, or seeing her smile, or getting a hug and open-mouthed kiss?

As I think these thoughts, it hits me. I can never go back to the way life was. Not only because Emma is now a human being that exists and that I’m responsible for taking care of, but also because Emma is a part of me. She has forever changed my identity and I can’t turn off being her mom and this impulse to do anything possible to protect or care for her, any more than I can turn off being a woman.

So even when I do get a taste of that glorious freedom again, it won’t be the same. It’ll never be the same. That might be hard for me to accept at times, but in the end, the experience of having this kind of deep, inexplicable, unconditional, no-holds-barred love for a child is priceless. In my more selfless moments, I can see motherhood for the gift that it truly is. And it’s those moments that make me thankful for being forever changed.

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Mother’s Day 2014

16 May

I told Travis that all I wanted for Mother’s Day this year was to read at a coffee shop by myself and get a manicure/pedicure. So on Saturday morning, I went to a coffee shop and read for about an hour. So peaceful and rejuvenating.

20140510_095639 20140510_092242The nail salon was all booked that day, so I had an appointment scheduled Monday. But that didn’t work out, and neither did the one I rescheduled for Friday, so that will have to happen after Memorial Day… Sad.

Anyway, on Sunday, the guys cooked me and Beth a delicious breakfast.

20140511_091845Travis, Emma and I went to church in Park Rapids.

After church, we bought a dog poop scooper at Ace Hardware, which I put to use when we got back to the house while Travis fixed the tire on our jogging stroller and Emma took a nap. Not exactly what I had envisioned doing on Mother’s Day but it was enjoyable to be outside at least. I utilized the rest of Emma’s nap to read a book and relax though.

Once Emma woke up, we headed into Nevis and took a walk on the Heartland Trail. Emma also played on the playground near the giant Tiger Muskie statute.

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Awesome, right?

We bought Travis’s mom a book called For Love of Lakes, and will celebrate with my mom the next time we see her (which should be in just a few weeks!). Happy belated Mother’s Day to all of you moms out there!

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One Year… {A Letter to My Daughter}

7 Apr

My Dearest Emma,

You are one year old today. Happy Birthday! Daddy and I bought you a baby doll and baby stroller for your birthday, and it’s amazing to think that a year ago, you were the size of that doll. So small. So delicate.

Now you are a curious and independent girl who loves to investigate and take apart everything. Your favorite thing is making a mess – whether of your birthday cake and ‘finger’ paints yesterday, or drawers and cabinets full of tupperware, toiletries, papers, books and sometimes, your own toys (though you’d much rather play with adult stuff!). You aren’t interested in the toys that we give you to play with – you want to decide on your own.

You are constantly excited – giggling, belly laughing, bouncing up and down, waving your arms and legs, making your ‘oh’ face of excitement. You are learning new things every day – you can give Grandpa five, wave, clap, play peekaboo, open and close doors and drawers, follow people into another room and find tiny objects on the floor that aren’t visible to the adult eye.

You still don’t like being held much – you are a mover and a shaker! You love to be on the go, and that makes going down for naps a challenge. You love the puppies, and often crawl very fast toward them. They are a little scared of you and your wild ways, so they don’t often sit still to let you pet them, but you have gotten much better with being gentle and not grabbing handfuls of fur when they do stay!

You love being outside. When sledding the past couple of weeks, you had a toothy grin painted on your face the whole time. You have ridden a tractor, a snowmobile and a wagon for the first time, and you rode up the driveway being held in the front seat of the car. So much excitement!

You are very detail-oriented. You love playing with zipper pulls, buttons, caps, door stoppers, and always check out when something has a screw, bolt or other sort of small inconsistency. When we took you to the aquarium in Denver, you didn’t pay a ton of attention to the fish. But when we got you in the elevator, you were entranced by the fake steel rivets on the wall.

You love to eat! The foods you like to eat all the time, all day long are cheese, strawberries, grapes, clementines, and yogurt. You also like bananas, applesauce, butternut squash and mango, but you get sick of them a lot faster. You still like to be fed purees fairly often, but you also like finger foods. It depends on your mood. You just started drinking cow’s milk this past week and the transition went great – in fact, when you drank your first bottle of it, you showed absolutely no reaction or even recognition that the taste was different. That was the case when switching from breastmilk to formula too.

You have started to love your Daddy more. When he walks in the room, you light up. You get excited when you hear his voice, and you love it when he rough-houses with you (even though sometimes it goes slightly too far and you get scared). You still prefer me (Mommy) when you’re sick, hurting or tired, but it warms Daddy’s heart when he can take care of and soothe you, so let him do that more, ok?

You are loved. Your cheeks are kissed at least 500 times each day. It’s just so hard to stop! We squeeze your chubby legs, play the drum on your ‘snare belly’, and spike your hair all because we love you – every inch of you. You will never understand how much your daddy and I love you – we don’t even fully understand it ourselves. It’s a love that goes deeper than words. You are a part of us. We will never be the same since you came into our lives. This line from “On the Night You Were Born” says it well:

“Heaven blew every trumpet

and played every horn

on the wonderful, marvelous

night you were born.”

Love,

Your Mommy

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