the wisdom of my lady

when looking for wisdom and insight into parenting, does one really need to look further than the dowager countess of grantham? granted she is character in the fictional world of “downton abbey”. i think, however, this might actually work in her favor. when normal people, you know people who know and love you and who actually exist, give you advice, one doesn’t tend to value it nearly as much as one ought. but dress a woman in period costume, give her a upper class british accent and plunk her down in the midst of manor house glamor and suddenly we are hanging on her every word.

on the topic of parenthood, violet crawley of “downton abbey” delivers some zingers. a personal favorite of late is this one: “one forgets about parenthood. the on and on-ness of it.” a rather obvious fact, that parenthood is an ongoing, years in the making process but in the midst of it, i can forget the forest for the trees. there is always so much in the immediate that demands my attention that i can forget to see the years of parenting i have before me.

in the diaper changing, breastfeeding, sleep-deprived haze of the past, the years ahead seemed remote, a glimmer in the distant future. a place where everyone could tie their own shoes and wipe their own behinds seemed as likely as flying cars and people living on the moon. but now here i am, living in the glimmering independence of self-shoe tying and behind wiping and i see how far this road really goes. life long commitments are like that.either you die soon after making them, hardly ideal, or they last a really long time.

long ago, i accepted that there was no arrival point in marriage, no place to which you “arrived” as a couple, no place where it there were no longer struggles or where compromise was no longer required. there was no happily ever after. there was happiness but it wasn’t a natural bi-product of being married. it required a lot of self-sacrifice and hard-work.

i  have finally realized the same is true of parenthood. i knew about the work and sacrifice part but i associated much of that with the physical demands of younger children. now that my kids are older, i see us moving into a new phase, one that requires a great deal of work but of a different nature. it’s relational work. figuring out what makes each one of them tick, how to make them feel love, how best to communicate constructive criticism without dashing little egos. taking time to teach them the things they need to know and throwing a little bonding time in the midst of life lessons. it’s helping little hands make dough instead of doing it myself or watching action adventure movies instead of romantic comedies. cheering from the sidelines and chauffeuring from here to there and back again.

i think i was waiting for the place where parenting started to get easy, where it was natural and effortless. but as her ladyship says it doesn’t get easier. it goes on and on. and that’s a good thing. we get the amazing privilege of investing in our children for decades. we get to watch them grow and to connect in ways that aren’t possible when they are young. it’s a bit scary as the stakes seem so much higher. their mistakes are no longer solved with a magic eraser and a timeout. but it’s thrilling at the same time. to quote my lady one last time “it’s so encouraging to see the future unfurl. as long as you remember it will bear no resemblance to the past.”

amy’s treadmill workout

recently i have become a mentor mom for MOPS. i will give the disclaimer that i feel woefully under-qualified to mentor anyone but have really enjoyed my time with these young moms. in getting to know my small group at the beginning of the year, i told them that one of my goals is to be in the best shape of my life when i turn forty. at this, all their ears seemed to perk up and they started asking what program i was following to achieve this lofty goal. i first explained that i had just spent the last year homeschooling our four kids. during that time, my workouts mostly involved running to the closet for a moment of calm reflection i.e. hiding from the children before there was yelling and lifting the gallon of ice cream out of the freezer as my end-of-the-day reward.  i wasn’t exactly running marathons before that so wanting to be in the best shape of my life wasn’t sitting the bar too terribly high. still i did share some of my workouts with them and thought you might be interested in knowing what a typical workout looks like for me.

minutes spent picking out what to wear: at least 30; the best part of exercising is the clothes so you might as well enjoy it. in fact, sometimes i just put on workout clothes and call it a day.

minutes spent trying to remember how to get the treadmill to actually start moving: 2, though i can stretch it to 3-4 if i pretend to tie my shoes or adjust my ear buds in the middle to hide the fact that i can’t remember how to turn on the machine.

minutes spent reminding myself not to mouth the words to the killer workout playlist i am listening to: 30; number of minutes i spend mouthing the words cause i forgot to listen to myself: 10.

minutes spent pretending i am racing the person next to me and winning: 30; number of minutes i am actually beating the person next to me: 0.

number of times i get distracted by the televisions or talking to a friend and almost fall of the treadmill: 7; number of times i have actually fallen off the treadmill: 2; 3 if you count making lots of screeching noises with my shoes and managing to catch myself at the last minute.

minutes spent trying to run in sync with the music i am listening to: 30; minutes actually spent running in sync with said music and feeling like a real life rock star: 30 seconds, totally worth the effort.

amount of sweat that pours out of every, and i mean every, surface of my body when running: approximately 12 gallons. amount of water i manage to drink while running in order to replace above mentioned fluids: 2 tablespoons, it’s just too much effort to reach for the water bottle.

number of times, on average, my kids call to ask if they can play minecraft or what is for dinner while i am trying not to fall off the treadmill: 4

total calories burned in an average workout: 300; number of calories burned from actual exercise: 78; number of calories burned by the stress of going to the gym: 222.

how to love your teenager

if you had told me back in my days of diapers and sippie cups that having a teenager could be just as demanding as having a newborn, i would have laughed you back into last week. but i am here to say people, walking someone through puberty is no joke.

now before you recently post-partumed ladies get your knickers all in a twist, let me say that while my shoe-tying, bottom-wiping, nap-time days are behind me, they are not so far in the distant past that i don’t remember the energy-draining, tear-inspiring, hair-pulling madness of infants and toddlers. the demands of early motherhood have no rival. navy seals should be required to serve a tour of duty searching for pacifiers and listening to “wheels on the bus” a million times a day.

while young children may be an undeveloped weapon of war, as the mother of a thirteen year old who seems to grow an inch every time i turn around, there are other demands, emotional and mental, that weren’t nearly as complex back when barney was cool. isn’t it just like kids to go and change their list of demands just about the time we feel capable of meeting them? just as i celebrated the end of pack and plays and diaper bags, i get blindsided by new needs i didn’t see coming.

through years of interrupted sleep and endlessly monotonous days, a part of me retreated deep inside. it’s like a  part of my emotional, intellectual self was hibernating. sure, i laughed and cried with my babies. i answered their questions about the nature of space and humanity, but i also shut off a place in my head that was reserved for coffee dates with the hubby or girls’ night chatter.

i wasn’t aware of just how far i had retreated into myself until my maturing kids started to invade that space. they are no longer satisfied with superficial conversation or half-listening head nods. i took them all to the children’s museum, ready to lose myself in a book for a few hours while they discovered the wonders of dinosaurs and soil erosion. instead, my oldest sat beside me the whole time and had the audacity to wish to speak to me! can you believe his cheeky nerve? i found myself irritated at the intrusion and have to confess, i repelled his attempts at conversation with more annoyance than tact.

it has taken me a good part of the summer to realize what is going on and to start to do something about it. it’s like being woken up from a deep sleep and taking a few minutes to orient yourself. now that i am finally waking up to this new phase of parenting, i am actually starting to enjoy myself. i am shaking off the bed covers of my brain and starting to share more of myself with these emerging people known as my children. after years of feeling lonely and isolated by my role as a stay-at-home mom, i am enjoying our new found companionship. i have a feeling, like their time as infants and toddlers, this won’t last forever and is best treasured while it lasts. thank goodness their personal maintenance skills are lagging behind their conversational skills. once they conquer the kitchen and the laundry room, i will be totally obsolete.

the birds and the bees

as far as i can tell, and i have the owner’s manual to back me up on this, one of my most important jobs as a mom is to embarrass my children as often as possible. with my daughter, this isn’t too hard to do. wear my hair the wrong way or apply the ole “spit to the face” trick and houston, we have lift off.

boys, on the other hand, are different. need i even say it? i could fart naked in the street and they would hardly bat an eyelash. it might even raise me in their esteem. incorrect grammar, pajamas in the grocery store, shameless nose picking-nothing shocks this hardened threesome. nothing that is except talking about anything remotely related to the topic of sex.

now mind  you, it doesn’t have to be actually talking about the act itself. it can be about anything that might be somehow, ever so tenuously connected. talking about sex’s third cousin once removed is enough to send them, hands to ears, running for cover.

like so many superheroes before me, i try to use my powers for good and not evil but sometimes the temptation is just too great. it sneaks up and whispers seductively in my ear “go on. you know you want to.” and before i can stop myself, i blurt out “hey boys! boob!” it is like some specialized version of tourettes which is sad because i am sure my boys would much prefer i yell out a string of obscenities.

truly, i don’t do this just for my own amusement. as a parent, i feel a strong tension between wanting my children to see their sexuality as something precious and sacred but also something of which one need not be ashamed. my periodic outbursts are my awkward attempt to assure them that there is nothing dirty in the nature of sex itself. if their mom can talk about it (they refuse to come to terms with the fact that their mom might actually do “it”), then it must be healthy, right? like all those fruits and strange vegetables i am constantly trying to get them to eat.

as our nation’s views of sexuality shift and change, i want to be there to help guide my kids. i don’t want to just have “the talk” and be done with it but rather continue the conversation as they grow and mature. who knows, maybe one day i will be the one blushing and running from the room. then i can hang up my superhero costume, knowing my job here is done. until then…”hey boys! boob!”

Square Peg

for the last several months, i have been wanting to write a post on being a square peg in a round hole. i have been counting down the days still school was done for the year and i could confess what a long academic road it has been. it was my first year teaching four kids at once. first year with a new and much more demanding curriculum. it was overwhelming and there were honesty days when i didn’t think we were going to make it.

i wanted to confess to feeling out of my depth, over my head. i wanted to say that i felt like God brought me to this place where i needed to do something that i just couldn’t do. i kept thinking if i prayed harder or worked harder, He would wave His magic wand and suddenly i would be transformed into the serine, unflappable mom who always keeps her cool or the fun mom who says “the heck with the laundry! let’s play monopoly.” instead, i was the overwhelmed mom hiding in her room watching “antique roadshow” cause she just couldn’t take it anymore.

when i went to write this post about how God obviously mis-assigned me, i couldn’t quite do it. it sounded whiny and ungrateful. ungrateful for all the amazing times we had this year. ungrateful for the experiences i got to share with my kids this year. we laughed, we cried, we conquered pre-alegebra.

when i was preparing to have our first baby, jim used to tell me that trying to get away from the pain only made things worse. if you focused on, looked it right in the eye and called its bluff, it wasn’t as bad. it still hurt but you didn’t get lost in it; you didn’t let it win. i think that’s what i did this year. i kept trying to wiggle out from under the discomfort i was in, trying to reorganize my way out of it rather than accepting it as a natural part of the process.

i often hear people talk about how moms need to make time for themselves because if they are happy and fulfilled then it will trickle down to their kids. i am not so sure that happiness should really be our end goal. what if i am called to be happy in the pain rather than looking for ways to kill the pain altogether? what if God doesn’t give us the luxury of happiness but calls us to something higher? maybe all this time i was making the pain worse by not accepting it as what it really is, God’s hand molding me to His own purpose, the smoothing out of my sharp corners. after all, who is the pot to tell the Potter what shape best fits His purpose?

don’t take this as “therefore, we should be at home full-time, making ourselves (and our children) as miserable as we possibly can. i think God calls moms to all sorts of uncomfortable places, in and out of the home. in an imperfect world there are no perfect choices. only faith in a perfect Creator who we can trust to work on those rough spots out in our ultimate favor.

 

mother’s day top ten list: part two

…as i was saying

number five: there are no monsters under your bed. as a parent, i find monster fears challenging on two levels. first of all, i feel sad and helpless, watching my youngster, who is obviously terrified, attempt to go upstairs on her own. nothing i say or do can convince her that i would never knowingly place her in harm’s way. secondly, though, i feel frustrated. “don’t you trust me? don’t you think i know what i am talking about?” how often do i stand before God, lip quivering, accusatory glare blazing? what monsters do i imagine He has placed in my path when in reality i have nothing to fear?

number four: try to keep things in perspective. my favorite part of getting older is the gift of perspective. the little things seem, well, littler. my kids can be having “the best day ever” and five minutes later, all the good is forgot and the day is “ruined.” i may be older and wiser but not too much so. i have to constantly remind myself to look beyond the immediate and see the pattern of provision and salvation God has woven into His plan for my life. He is weaving for me “the best life ever” if i will just trust Him.

number three: be grateful for what you have. i am amazed at the endlessly unsatisfiable nature of my children. no sooner have i loaded the dishwasher from lunch and they are already asking what is for dinner. if we go to the movies, now we need popcorn and drinks and don’t forget the ice cream on the way home. i wish i were any better with my Heavenly Father but so often He has no sooner answered one prayer then i have the next request ready and waiting. if only i could learn to be content with what He has given already.

number two: two wrongs don’t make a right. do i really need to give an example? the vicious cycle of retribution among children speaks for itself. the hatfield and macoy feud must have been started by kids. and yet, within myself is a capacity for grudge holding and self-justification that makes them look like UN peacekeepers. if only i would trust God as the ultimate Judge and remember with great humility how it is that i will be found innocent before His throne.

number one: Jesus loves me this I know. the foundational truth through which all other truths flow. i should be a disney princess, frolicking through the forest while small animals trail behind me as i sing of my Savior. He hasn’t delivered me from a dragon or evil stepmother. He has delivered me from the gates of Hell. and more besides, because He has delivered me from myself. from the dragon and evil in my own heart.

this mother’s day may we all humbly praise God for the blessings He has granted. let us remember Jesus weeping over jerusalem, longing to gather His people under His wing like a mother hen. Lord, may i be found under Your protection always.

mother’s day top ten list: part one

mother day’s often leaves me reflecting on all the ways i am failing as the assigned maternal figure in my kids lives, praying desperate prayers for God to fill in my incredibly large gaps. not to mention begging that He give them limited memories of their childhood which focus on the times i let them eat on the couch or cuddled them affectionately after a particularly nasty encounter with the driveway pavement. i don’t know if it makes it better or worse when the kids hand over their precious homemade gifts and cards. should i  weep with joy at the thought that i might not be doing as badly as i think i am or weep with sorrow that they don’t know any better.

this past weekend, i was asked to speak at a mother’s day brunch. free food, a bunch of like-minded moms and i manage to avoid saturday morning chores? i am in. of course, i wanted to give the ladies something to justify sharing their breakfast casserole and pastries with me so i decided to go with a top ten list. top ten truths i tell my kids. top ten truths i ought to be telling myself too. so here is the first half of my list with the second half soon to follow. hopefully they will help next time i decide to kick myself when i am down and hopefully they will help you as well.

number ten: just do your best. when the crayon refuses to stay within the lines or the math problem will not yield to logic, i try to remind my kids to take a breath and push on. they may not make the best picture or ace algebra but sometimes “good enough” is good enough. and when i feel like the universe will explode if i don’t make dinner on time or always answer with my patient voice, i need to remember to just do my best. God loves the universe (not to mention my kids and me) enough to not place the fate of all mankind in my hands.

number nine: be content in the now and don’t wish away the stage you are in. “when i grow up…” is an often uttered phrase in our household and one that i wish i could erase forever. i want to shake them and say “life is a blink. you will only have this year, this day, this moment once. savor it.” i want to shake them and then go back to thinking “when i grow up…” here and now, i have a purpose. it is all i am promised and i wish i savored more of the now. oh well, maybe when i grow up.

number eight: life isn’t about you. each day, at the same time, i get a sick feeling in my stomach. no, it isn’t because i ate too many oreos (my oreo eating time varies from day to day). it is chore time. i call out in the cheerfullest of voices “chore time!” and then brace for impact. the response is usually something like “noooooooo!” this is where i go into my “if we all work together, it will go by so quickly” speech which translates “you aren’t sticking me with all this mess to clean up by myself, kiddo.” in the same way my kids dread chore time, i too dread that inner voice calling me to do my part. “nooooo!” my selfish heart calls. Lord, give me the grace to answer your call in my cheerfullest voice.

number seven: don’t complain about responsibilities you have chosen to take on. closely related to number eight, this one refers to complaints regarding volunteered for responsibilities (such as guinea pigs and lizards) as opposed to responsibilities you were assigned (such as cleaning the toilet or taking out the recycling ). while i roll my eyes in disgust at my children’s lack of gratitude for their pets and other sundry work-requiring privileges , i really should be giving my forehead a big smack. how often do i complain about “the burdens” i am carrying, the burdens i called blessings when i asked for them. may i daily give thanks for these blessings and ask for the grace to carry them.

number six: let he who is without sin cast the first stone. one of my favorite familiar ironies is the accusations which often fly around the dinner table immediately following prayer time. “so and so had his eyes open while we were praying!” everyone knows that God is unable to hear our prayers unless everyone’s eyes are tightly closed. putting that fact aside, assuming that God has not granted you transparent eyelids, your eyes were in fact open as well. how often are my eyes scoping out others rather than looking inward, or better yet upward? grant me eyes that see only You, God.

to be continued…