I have a goal this summer. I want to stay home. You say, "But you're a stay-at-home mom! Staying home is in your job description!" Alas, I am the least stay-at-home of all stay-at-home moms.
I love my home. I love my children. I love entire days. Put those three things together, and it's my nightmare.
I can probably count on one hand the number of days that I have stayed home all day. I take my children out, somewhere, every day. The grocery store, the other grocery store, the library, the park. Sometimes, we just drive down the street to the coffee shop.Sometimes, we just drive.
At some point, in the middle of the messes and babbling and screaming matches, I feel the overwhelming need to escape. I feel like I have three options: put the kids on the curb (free to a good home only, of course), lock them in their rooms with hamster feeders, or pack them into the car and go somewhere.
Now, there's nothing necessarily wrong with this habit, but it's been impressed on my spirit that I need to make some changes. We need to spend more time at home, period. I need to create a routine and a rhythm that uses more of the hours in our day in better ways. We need a less frantic pace. I need way less time listening to whiny, fussy, bickering children who are whiny, fussy, and bickering because their trapped in their car seats for too long.
Last night, I made the mistake of sharing this with my Bible study girls. I say mistake, because once it's out there, these women will hold me accountable to it. Darn them. So today, I devoted myself to trying it out, this stay-at-home thing.
Well, it's 3:49, and I'm freaking exhausted.
In the hours between Eli's 6:15 rise-and-shine (curse you, summer sunrise!) and when I plopped them into their beds for naptime, we did art projects, baked a pie, played in the backyard, put together our train set, and played the world's most frustrating game of Memory. Doesn't sound like much to you? Factor in the messes - my children get into EVERYTHING. Lucas is a champion dumper of all things in boxes. Add to that the 87,000 arguments that my children get into in the course of a day. Add to that the cacophony of wooden spoons on pots (net loss: 3 wooden spoons). And on top of it all, I actually managed to squeeze in a few chores. And I blogged! And I didn't escape. Okay, I escaped once, first thing, to get some coffee, but that barely counts. A girl needs her drug.
But here's what I loved about today: My kids were happier. We've been dealing with a lot of whiny, grumpy attitude from Eli lately, and so much bickering between the boys. Today was better. Our pace was slower, so I felt like I could actually stop what I was doing and give them the attention they needed in the moment. And it helped!
I certainly don't plan to stay home all day, every day. It's summer, after all! There are parks to be played at! And there are errands that simply must be run. But I'm going to try, really try, to build the rhythm of our days around what we can find to do in our very own little home. And who knows? Kid #2 might actually get potty-trained before kindergarten!
Wish me luck!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
on my own
Ben is out of town this weekend, on a retreat to Sunriver with some of the awesome manly men of our church. He is snowboarding and skiing and snowmobiling, having (I hope) a fantastically wild-at-heart kind of time.
On the homefront, I have again proven to be a less than model single parent. On the plus side, I have made blueberry pancakes, cleaned house, and taken my boys on some sort of adventure each day. I let them stay up late and watch movies and read books and cuddle. On the minus side, I yelled - yes, yelled - at Eli to "SHUT UP!" in the car today. I actually had to pull over, get out, and apologize because, seriously? That is some weak self control right there (good teachable moment, though). Also, I've gotten take out two nights in a row and made numerous trips to Baskin Robbins (darn you, drive-thru!). So, not my absolute finest use of a weekend, but not terrible, all things considered.
(And in my defense, I recently discovered that I am severely anemic, so I'm considering it a major victory that I have gotten dressed each day, let alone anything else.)
On the homefront, I have again proven to be a less than model single parent. On the plus side, I have made blueberry pancakes, cleaned house, and taken my boys on some sort of adventure each day. I let them stay up late and watch movies and read books and cuddle. On the minus side, I yelled - yes, yelled - at Eli to "SHUT UP!" in the car today. I actually had to pull over, get out, and apologize because, seriously? That is some weak self control right there (good teachable moment, though). Also, I've gotten take out two nights in a row and made numerous trips to Baskin Robbins (darn you, drive-thru!). So, not my absolute finest use of a weekend, but not terrible, all things considered.
(And in my defense, I recently discovered that I am severely anemic, so I'm considering it a major victory that I have gotten dressed each day, let alone anything else.)
Sunday, February 27, 2011
papa's house
We spent a week visiting my parents in Idaho. In Eli's eyes, the sun rises and sets on Papa. For weeks leading up to our visit, Eli would tell any available pair of ears all about his Papa's house, where the following things exist: cars, trucks, coffee, a waterfall, candy canes, Grandma, cookies, and a race car bed.
We got to enjoy some surprise snow while we were in town, and the boys loved playing in my sister's giant yard. My dear, devoted dad pulled them around and around on his old wooden sled. Luke seemed a little nonplussed by it all, but then again, Luke often seems unimpressed by the world. He wears a funny expression a lot of the time that seems to say, "What else have you got?"
My dad, who is awesome in many ways, is particularly great at building things for his grandsons. The bookcase in Eli's bedroom, the race car bed, a giant wooden hippo (don't ask), and this time, a real wooden soapbox car. The kids were over the moon about having a real racecar to "drive" around the neighborhood.
As much as I love my children (and parents), for me, the highlight of the week was leaving them for three days to hole up in a cabin with six of my dearest friends. Four of us have been friends from birth, and all of us from early childhood. We have seen each other through every imaginable stage of growing up, and share an extraordinary bond. These girls have loved me through every awkward, obnoxious, and painful season of my life, and I know how unique it is to still have their friendship. The rare occasions when we can all gather together for a weekend away are precious beyond words.
I love having a home to go home to. I am thankful for parents who are joyfully married after forty-plus years, for the quiet little town that never changes beyond recognition, and for the sweet relationships that still tie me to it. I have roots, deep roots, and I love them.
We got to enjoy some surprise snow while we were in town, and the boys loved playing in my sister's giant yard. My dear, devoted dad pulled them around and around on his old wooden sled. Luke seemed a little nonplussed by it all, but then again, Luke often seems unimpressed by the world. He wears a funny expression a lot of the time that seems to say, "What else have you got?"
My dad, who is awesome in many ways, is particularly great at building things for his grandsons. The bookcase in Eli's bedroom, the race car bed, a giant wooden hippo (don't ask), and this time, a real wooden soapbox car. The kids were over the moon about having a real racecar to "drive" around the neighborhood.
As much as I love my children (and parents), for me, the highlight of the week was leaving them for three days to hole up in a cabin with six of my dearest friends. Four of us have been friends from birth, and all of us from early childhood. We have seen each other through every imaginable stage of growing up, and share an extraordinary bond. These girls have loved me through every awkward, obnoxious, and painful season of my life, and I know how unique it is to still have their friendship. The rare occasions when we can all gather together for a weekend away are precious beyond words.
I love having a home to go home to. I am thankful for parents who are joyfully married after forty-plus years, for the quiet little town that never changes beyond recognition, and for the sweet relationships that still tie me to it. I have roots, deep roots, and I love them.
15 things - whoa, i am behind
I've been awol for two weeks, so I'm just slightly behind on my great 15 days of blogging. Let's just pick up where I left off, with...
Day 10 - Songs I listen to when I am:
Happy - anything that helps me tell my Savior how glad I am to be His. I love the song "I'm Singing" by Kari Jobe. And "You Are My Joy" by David Crowder Band (must turn up VERY loud). And "Happy" by Aiesha Woods, if I want to dance around to a really cheesy song.
Sad - Hmm... not the songs I should listen to. I like to indulge my melancholy side once in awhile. I think the technical term is "wallow." Lately my favorite sad sack song is "Blood Bank" by Bon Iver, but also every other Death Cab for Cutie song.
Bored - I literally cannot remember the last time I was bored. Exhausted, yes. Maybe listless, but only if I'm avoiding my mile-long list of things to do. If I ever find myself bored again, I'll break out the Hallelujah Chorus.
Hyped - I really don't know what that's supposed to mean. But, on those rare occasions when a run feels really, really good, and I feel really, really energized and pumped about how good it feels (and how totally awesome I probably look doing it), I bust out one of my current favorites - Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People. Seriously, you must find it, and listen to it, and love it. It's streets ahead, people.
Mad - I don't usually listen to music if I'm mad about something. The imaginary conversations I'm having with the object of my anger tend to be pretty distracting.
Day 10 - Songs I listen to when I am:
Happy - anything that helps me tell my Savior how glad I am to be His. I love the song "I'm Singing" by Kari Jobe. And "You Are My Joy" by David Crowder Band (must turn up VERY loud). And "Happy" by Aiesha Woods, if I want to dance around to a really cheesy song.
Sad - Hmm... not the songs I should listen to. I like to indulge my melancholy side once in awhile. I think the technical term is "wallow." Lately my favorite sad sack song is "Blood Bank" by Bon Iver, but also every other Death Cab for Cutie song.
Bored - I literally cannot remember the last time I was bored. Exhausted, yes. Maybe listless, but only if I'm avoiding my mile-long list of things to do. If I ever find myself bored again, I'll break out the Hallelujah Chorus.
Hyped - I really don't know what that's supposed to mean. But, on those rare occasions when a run feels really, really good, and I feel really, really energized and pumped about how good it feels (and how totally awesome I probably look doing it), I bust out one of my current favorites - Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People. Seriously, you must find it, and listen to it, and love it. It's streets ahead, people.
Mad - I don't usually listen to music if I'm mad about something. The imaginary conversations I'm having with the object of my anger tend to be pretty distracting.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
15 things - days 7, 8, 9
Day 7- A picture of someone/something that has had the biggest impact on you
These little people have changed my life in every way possible, for the very best.
Day 8- Short term goals for this month and why
1. Roast a whole chicken. Because I've always wanted to try it. Because on Top Chef they are always roasting chickens and talking about how amazing the the crispy browned skin is. Because I envision the whole process: glass of wine, favorite cooking music, the deep satisfaction I get from chopping fresh herbs, and the even deeper satisfaction of making something absolutely delicious.
2. Run three miles with at least one kid in the stroller. To date, I've managed two, with serious concern for my cardiovascular health. I can do 6, maybe 7 by myself, so it seems ridiculous.
3. Get my garage under control. It's still half full of boxes, most of them rummaged through and left for dead. It's a nightmare.
Day 9- Something you're proud of in the past few days
I cooked the chicken! And guess what? Chicken skin, no matter how crispy and brown, makes me want to puke. Also, I couldn't hear my favorite cooking music over the mind-numbing whine and wail of my two-year-old, who hates dinner-making time in a violent way. But the chicken itself was delicious, so, WIN.
These little people have changed my life in every way possible, for the very best.
Day 8- Short term goals for this month and why
1. Roast a whole chicken. Because I've always wanted to try it. Because on Top Chef they are always roasting chickens and talking about how amazing the the crispy browned skin is. Because I envision the whole process: glass of wine, favorite cooking music, the deep satisfaction I get from chopping fresh herbs, and the even deeper satisfaction of making something absolutely delicious.
2. Run three miles with at least one kid in the stroller. To date, I've managed two, with serious concern for my cardiovascular health. I can do 6, maybe 7 by myself, so it seems ridiculous.
3. Get my garage under control. It's still half full of boxes, most of them rummaged through and left for dead. It's a nightmare.
Day 9- Something you're proud of in the past few days
I cooked the chicken! And guess what? Chicken skin, no matter how crispy and brown, makes me want to puke. Also, I couldn't hear my favorite cooking music over the mind-numbing whine and wail of my two-year-old, who hates dinner-making time in a violent way. But the chicken itself was delicious, so, WIN.
a servant heart
On Friday, I had the privilege of taking part in our church's annual Women's Night of Prayer. This year, 650 women came together to pray, worship, and seek the Lord for six hours straight, from midnight to 6 a.m. It's an amazing time, and without a doubt, the world is changed because of it.
I had signed up to help out, expecting to be asked to help set up or clean up, or maybe greet at the door. Instead, I was asked to be on "the kitchen team." Now, you have to know that at our church, nothing is done halfway. The midnight breakfast served at this event isn't just bagels and fruit. It's bagels and fruit, and biscuits and gravy, and scrambled eggs, and homemade cinnamon rolls dripping in caramel sauce, and bowl after bowl of munchies, and... you get the picture. We are seriously spoiled. So being asked to help prep, serve, and clean up meant missing most, if not all of the event.
I was torn. Actually, I wasn't torn. I didn't want to do it. I decided to ignore the email and pray about it. So I prayed, "Lord, I don't want to do this. Tell me I don't have to, okay?" Or something along those lines.
After asking Him many, many times, He answered: "If you have to keep asking, I think you have your answer. If you want to be a servant, start serving."
You see, I've prayed for years for more of a servant's heart. Sure, I serve. I joyfully pour myself out for my family. I'm happy to bring dinner to a friend with a new baby. I'm glad to spend a few extra hours at church to help with Sunday School twice a month. But give me an opportunity to serve that presents the teensiest inconvenience, and I'm out.
I realized that this was just such a "feet to faith" opportunity. I said yes, but to be honest, I struggled with my attitude all week. I like to be in the mix. I hate the feeling of missing out. I imagined myself scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, hearing faint strains of worship and feeling hugely bummed that I wasn't a part of it.
As I was fretting and stewing about it, God brought me to Philippians 2:14: "Do everything without complaining or arguing." The ESV puts it as, "Do all things without grumbling or questioning." (I know this verse well, as I recite it to my son about a kajillion times a week.) It certainly applied to my attitude. I was complaining about the calling, questioning whether I should really obey.
Fortunately, when God shows us where we fail, He also shows us how to be better. God taught me that my obedience was empty if my attitude was rotten. He took me back to last year, when I staggered into the Night of Prayer needing to soak up every ounce of love and wisdom and presence I could possibly get, and how I was absolutely lavished with love. And He showed me how, in so many ways since then, He's been equipping me to pour out the same love onto someone else.
And so, by His grace, I marched into that kitchen armed with a new, humble, thankful heart. I took on Colossians 2:23 as my mantra: "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as unto the Lord." I wrestled frozen sausages, mopped up spilled juice, refilled coffee, and scrubbed dirty dishes with a deep-down joyful spirit. A few times during the night, as I listened to the beautiful worship of so many Godly women, that "Aw, man" attitude started to creep back in. And each time, I surrendered that emotion, and joined right in the singing.
I know there are people who are naturally servants. I see them all the time, or don't see them, as they work tirelessly behind the scenes, out of the spotlight, in whatever way they are called. I am not one of those people. But I want that kind of heart. And so God, in his loving, gentle way, is building one for me.
Oh, and one more thing. Find the person who cleans the coffee pots after church each Sunday, and thank them. Profusely.
I had signed up to help out, expecting to be asked to help set up or clean up, or maybe greet at the door. Instead, I was asked to be on "the kitchen team." Now, you have to know that at our church, nothing is done halfway. The midnight breakfast served at this event isn't just bagels and fruit. It's bagels and fruit, and biscuits and gravy, and scrambled eggs, and homemade cinnamon rolls dripping in caramel sauce, and bowl after bowl of munchies, and... you get the picture. We are seriously spoiled. So being asked to help prep, serve, and clean up meant missing most, if not all of the event.
I was torn. Actually, I wasn't torn. I didn't want to do it. I decided to ignore the email and pray about it. So I prayed, "Lord, I don't want to do this. Tell me I don't have to, okay?" Or something along those lines.
After asking Him many, many times, He answered: "If you have to keep asking, I think you have your answer. If you want to be a servant, start serving."
You see, I've prayed for years for more of a servant's heart. Sure, I serve. I joyfully pour myself out for my family. I'm happy to bring dinner to a friend with a new baby. I'm glad to spend a few extra hours at church to help with Sunday School twice a month. But give me an opportunity to serve that presents the teensiest inconvenience, and I'm out.
I realized that this was just such a "feet to faith" opportunity. I said yes, but to be honest, I struggled with my attitude all week. I like to be in the mix. I hate the feeling of missing out. I imagined myself scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, hearing faint strains of worship and feeling hugely bummed that I wasn't a part of it.
As I was fretting and stewing about it, God brought me to Philippians 2:14: "Do everything without complaining or arguing." The ESV puts it as, "Do all things without grumbling or questioning." (I know this verse well, as I recite it to my son about a kajillion times a week.) It certainly applied to my attitude. I was complaining about the calling, questioning whether I should really obey.
Fortunately, when God shows us where we fail, He also shows us how to be better. God taught me that my obedience was empty if my attitude was rotten. He took me back to last year, when I staggered into the Night of Prayer needing to soak up every ounce of love and wisdom and presence I could possibly get, and how I was absolutely lavished with love. And He showed me how, in so many ways since then, He's been equipping me to pour out the same love onto someone else.
And so, by His grace, I marched into that kitchen armed with a new, humble, thankful heart. I took on Colossians 2:23 as my mantra: "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as unto the Lord." I wrestled frozen sausages, mopped up spilled juice, refilled coffee, and scrubbed dirty dishes with a deep-down joyful spirit. A few times during the night, as I listened to the beautiful worship of so many Godly women, that "Aw, man" attitude started to creep back in. And each time, I surrendered that emotion, and joined right in the singing.
I know there are people who are naturally servants. I see them all the time, or don't see them, as they work tirelessly behind the scenes, out of the spotlight, in whatever way they are called. I am not one of those people. But I want that kind of heart. And so God, in his loving, gentle way, is building one for me.
Oh, and one more thing. Find the person who cleans the coffee pots after church each Sunday, and thank them. Profusely.
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