I've had an idea rolling around in my head since before Christmas, and yesterday I finally sat down and did it. I made a daily schedule. For me, and my kids. At home. I know, I know. It kind of sounds ridiculous, right? I swore I would never become "that" stay-at-home-mom (might as well start saying SAHM, since this is such a very SAHM-ish thing to do). My parenting style is pretty laid-back, so actually scheduling the mundane activities of our day seemed restrictive and uptight and... well, unnecessary.
But God has been teaching me (read: DRILLING into me) to be moldable, teachable, and obedient. So last fall, when I noticed that I was wasting a tremendous amount of time during the day, and that I rarely actually sat down and played with my kids, and that Eli wasn't learning his letters and numbers as quickly as I expected, I began to ask God if he wanted me to change. Turns out, he kind of did. (Shoot.) I came across this verse:
"His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!'" Mt 25:21.
And this one:
"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart." Col. 3:23
Truth be told, I was slacking. Being a low-maintenance mommy, I have pretty low-maintenance kids. But I was getting frustrated with them - a lot. I was impatient with their neediness. I was constantly behind on everything. I crashed into bed each night feeling deeply unsatisfied with how my day had gone, how much was left undone and how much was on my to-do list for tomorrow. I know this is a common state for most people, especially for a mom. But I knew God wanted more from me. He had more for me. More responsibility, yes, but also more blessing.
One day, the Holy Spirit brought to my mind a reminder of my past (short) life as a teacher. I wasn't a great teacher, but I was a pretty good one. And darn it, I was organized. I kept things running smoothly with a classroom of 20+ kids. Why, then, couldn't I run my own home the same way? Soon after, a wise friend shared how she schedules her day - every hour, every activity is accounted for. She homeschools, and has a child with special needs, so her schedule is ten times busier than mine. But the idea stuck.
So, the experiment begins. My schedule is loose, and I don't expect to ever follow it completely. The point is, it's there. It tells me to get up EARLY and have my quiet time before the chaos of the day. It gives me times to stop everything and devote my attention solely to my kids. It includes times for specific activities with Eli (and Lucas, by default) to work on his early language and math skills, because it's important to me. It even tells me when to do laundry, clean my bathroooms, and weed the garden. And every night, at 8:30, it says "RELAX."
Feel free to laugh out loud at my idea. Eye-rolling and "Girl, please" will be allowed. After all, we're already off schedule - it didn't tell me to spontaneously post on my blog with numerous interruptions to play elephant, referee, and Old Lady Who Really Wants Your Trains. But you know, that's the beauty of being a (gulp) SAHM.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
wednesday thoughts
It's a random-thought kind of day.
The sun is shining and there are two gorgeous blue jays sitting on my back fence. Oh spring, how you tease.
Two New Year's resolutions this year:
1. Start every morning in the Word. I'm embarrassed to say that I've never read through the entire Bible. In this season of life, I've learned that nothing - no devotional, no sermon, no worship song - can substitute for the life-shaping power of God's own words. So far, I'm keeping up with our church's Bible-in-a-year plan, although dragging myself out of bed an hour earlier is painfully hard to do. I quickly learned that trying to have this quiet time after Eli gets up is impossible - or at least, unfruitful. (Is that a word? Fruitless. There you go.) Yes, some days it feels more like a "to do" than a desire, but the more I dig into scripture the more God makes me hungry for it.
2. Eat (and feed my children) more fruits and vegetables. In my mind, I was going to make smoothies for myself and the kids a few times a week, sneak pureed veggies into some of my recipes, and ample fruits and veggies cut, packaged, and ready for snacking. In reality, I finally cut up said veggies today - the 20th day of the year. Oh, well. Baby steps.
Have been trying some new recipes out and really enjoying cooking lately. I made my first homemade pasta into ravioli (thank you, Top Cheftestant Fabio, for making this look so deceptively easy). I made a delicious soup - pasta e fagioli - that they serve at the Olive Garden. Prosciutto and sage and garlic and white beans and tomato - oh, so good. The problem with my cooking phases is that they rarely involve really healthy food. It's always the comfort foods (read: fattening) that grab my attention. Sauteed kale with olive oil? No thanks. Bacon mac-and-cheese? Bring it.
Two major victories in my house of late. After the longest potty-training battle in the history of parenting, Eli has finally begun to poop on the potty every day. Before bed. Without screaming. What magical bribery tool finally brought this about, you ask? Was it the multitude of Hot Wheels cars? Dips into the candy jar? Threats of bodily harm? No, it was stickers. Just... stickers. (And yes, we've tried stickers a few times in the past. Apparently my child is now "developmentally ready" for stickers.)
The other victory is that I haven't taken migraine medicine in over a week. That may not sound like much to you, but believe me, it's huge. I can hardly remember when I could go two days without a migraine. Who knows why or for how long it will last, but I'm just gonna go ahead and praise God.
The sun is shining and there are two gorgeous blue jays sitting on my back fence. Oh spring, how you tease.
Two New Year's resolutions this year:
1. Start every morning in the Word. I'm embarrassed to say that I've never read through the entire Bible. In this season of life, I've learned that nothing - no devotional, no sermon, no worship song - can substitute for the life-shaping power of God's own words. So far, I'm keeping up with our church's Bible-in-a-year plan, although dragging myself out of bed an hour earlier is painfully hard to do. I quickly learned that trying to have this quiet time after Eli gets up is impossible - or at least, unfruitful. (Is that a word? Fruitless. There you go.) Yes, some days it feels more like a "to do" than a desire, but the more I dig into scripture the more God makes me hungry for it.
2. Eat (and feed my children) more fruits and vegetables. In my mind, I was going to make smoothies for myself and the kids a few times a week, sneak pureed veggies into some of my recipes, and ample fruits and veggies cut, packaged, and ready for snacking. In reality, I finally cut up said veggies today - the 20th day of the year. Oh, well. Baby steps.
Have been trying some new recipes out and really enjoying cooking lately. I made my first homemade pasta into ravioli (thank you, Top Cheftestant Fabio, for making this look so deceptively easy). I made a delicious soup - pasta e fagioli - that they serve at the Olive Garden. Prosciutto and sage and garlic and white beans and tomato - oh, so good. The problem with my cooking phases is that they rarely involve really healthy food. It's always the comfort foods (read: fattening) that grab my attention. Sauteed kale with olive oil? No thanks. Bacon mac-and-cheese? Bring it.
Two major victories in my house of late. After the longest potty-training battle in the history of parenting, Eli has finally begun to poop on the potty every day. Before bed. Without screaming. What magical bribery tool finally brought this about, you ask? Was it the multitude of Hot Wheels cars? Dips into the candy jar? Threats of bodily harm? No, it was stickers. Just... stickers. (And yes, we've tried stickers a few times in the past. Apparently my child is now "developmentally ready" for stickers.)
The other victory is that I haven't taken migraine medicine in over a week. That may not sound like much to you, but believe me, it's huge. I can hardly remember when I could go two days without a migraine. Who knows why or for how long it will last, but I'm just gonna go ahead and praise God.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
mr. personality
This kid.
He's coming up on four years old, and he is a Character. Eli has had personality to spare since he was a young toddler. He keeps me either in stitches or pulling my hair out. There's very little neutral with this one.
Eli isn't often outright naughty, but he is curious and mischievous. As any reader of my blog (or anyone within hearing distance) knows, he gets into trouble the moment your back is turned. The other night, around four in the morning, I woke up to a very quiet tap-tap-tapping on my door. "Eli?" I groaned. His little head poked through the door, and he informed me he needed to go potty. After putting him back to bed, I stumbled back to my room and noticed my broom leaning against the wall outside our door. "That's odd," I thought sleepily. "I don't remember sweeping the carpet before bed." I went downstairs for some water and on the way passed a random empty sake cup sitting on the bottom step. "Also odd," I murmured. "I don't remember drinking sake on my way to bed."
The next morning I noticed a few other strange things around the house. Another sake cup in the refrigerator. The pantry door left open, and the quarter-bag of chocolate chips from the pantry lying on the floor, empty. A pair of pajama pants stuffed into the coffee table drawer. Someone had done a little exploring during the night.
Later that morning, Eli pointed to a glass measuring cup that was sitting out on the kitchen counter. The night before, it held a good amount of leftover balsamic vinaigrette, but now it was empty. "Mama?" said Eli with a mournful look on his face, "I dwank that chocowate miwk and it. did. not. taste. good."
Later still, we found the last sake cup in a drawer, with a bit of balsamic vinaigrette still in the bottom.
Eli definitely inherited his mommy's gift for words (which is a nice way of saying that he talks, endlessly, just like I did. Again, mom and dad, I'm sorry.) I usually fall asleep and wake up to him babbling away in his room. He's developing a great imagination and loves to play with (and talk to) his stuffed animals. He already has a great sense of humor and we laugh together a lot - and at him a lot. I could, however, stand a fewer pee and poop jokes.
Oh, and he loves his little brother. A few months ago, he turned a 180 from trying to clobber Lucas at every turn to trying to (aggressively) hug him at every turn. Every time he says, "Wucas is my sweetie brudda," my heart melts a little.
Monday, January 3, 2011
a little tiny soap box
So, it occurs to me that the blog post I wrote late last night may have come across a little too transparent for those of my readers who prefer light-hearted "Guess what Eli said today?" posts. I hope that I didn't send anyone into a panic - I am not planning to jump off any bridges, and I don't need an intervention. One of my New Year's goals is to blog as often as possible - and that means that on some days, you will see the sunny side of my life, and on others, you will see something much more raw. The truth is, as women, especially as Christian women, we tend to live lives of great secrecy. We share the whole truth - the really ugly, scary thoughts and emotions - with very few people, if any. We are afraid to speak up when what we experience or what we feel isn't found in any Beth Moore book. And this? The shiny half-truth that we clothe ourselves in before we head off to church or work or play group or Target? It's a tool of Satan. I know, I know, nobody's comfortable tossing around the word "Satan." But he's real. He is the enemy. And this enemy of ours tells me that the Me who is content, self-controlled, faithful, gentle, and patient is the "Christian me." And the one who fails to live out the fruits of the Spirit is the sinner, and has to hide. But the truth is, it's all just me. I'm a real human being, and I live a real life. I swear when I drop something on my foot. I lose my patience with my kids when they whine and fight and make messes. I feel real things joy and sorrow, lightness and anger, hopefulness and hopelessness. Yes, I strive to live a life that pleases and glorifies the Lord. I try to be controlled by the Spirit and not by my emotions. I am quick to repent when I know I am hurting His heart. But my humanity does not make me a hypocrite. Please, don't believe that yours does, either.
I have two purposes in writing this blog. One, to encourage other women that they are not alone, even in their ugliest moments. That is why I try to write very transparently. Oh, I self-edit, of course. I do so to protect the people I love (because really, I swear a lot more than my mother-in-law thinks I do). But I see no need for another blog about another "perfect" Christian woman. I love to hear from readers who tell me they can "so relate" to what I've written. But even more important to me is to ultimately point you to Christ. I hope, and I pray that even when I let you see me at my weakest and lowest points, you will understand that I still have incredible, unexplainable joy and hope in the arms of my Savior. It's a tough balance to strike, and I know I fail at it often. Thanks for coming back anyway. Tomorrow, I promise, will be all about my cute kids.
I have two purposes in writing this blog. One, to encourage other women that they are not alone, even in their ugliest moments. That is why I try to write very transparently. Oh, I self-edit, of course. I do so to protect the people I love (because really, I swear a lot more than my mother-in-law thinks I do). But I see no need for another blog about another "perfect" Christian woman. I love to hear from readers who tell me they can "so relate" to what I've written. But even more important to me is to ultimately point you to Christ. I hope, and I pray that even when I let you see me at my weakest and lowest points, you will understand that I still have incredible, unexplainable joy and hope in the arms of my Savior. It's a tough balance to strike, and I know I fail at it often. Thanks for coming back anyway. Tomorrow, I promise, will be all about my cute kids.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
happy new year
I've been reflecting on the past year. This morning, I was thinking about a women's prayer night at our church last spring. I was given a verse that would prove to be a touchstone for a very hard year.
Ps 18:2: "The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold."
If ever I've received a prophetic word from God, that was it. While the past year brought many moments of joy and laughter, it also brought some incredibly dark days. In 2010, I was overwhelmed, frustrated, angry, discouraged, or sad more often than I've ever been. I spent countless hours on my knees, praying for circumstances to change and mountains to move. I pored over scripture, asking for answers to problems I couldn't begin to solve. I sobbed, shouted, and pleaded with God over pain and sorrow that ran so soul-deep that I could sometimes barely breathe.
Most years are marked by lots of little battles (a protracted potty-training standoff, for example). But 2010 seemed like a different type of animal. Trial after trial headed our way, the desert season seemed endless, and I spent a good deal of the year feeling like I was drowning, or at best, furiously treading water.
I'll be honest. In 2010, God's most frequent answers were "No" or "Not yet." And while I was dying for a "Yes," aching to see him move, I clung to his promises, dug deeper into his word, and staunchly refused to give in or give up. I'd love to say that I was never shaken, but trust me, I shook. I trembled, and I faltered, and I got really angry and full of doubt and tried to hide from the One who I felt was most failing me. But that verse, that promise, stuck with me. "The Lord is my rock. My fortress. My deliverer. My stronghold." I couldn't shake that.
The turning of a new year didn't magically fix the holes in my boat. Did it for you? I think we all hope that January 1st will bring a fresh start to everything in our lives, but on January 2nd, we wake up to the same reality, with a new calendar. I know the coming year will have its trials, and while I pray for a way in the desert, I know that sometimes, life just... sucks. There's a reason that we're not home yet. But life in Christ, on the rock? That life is hope, and joy, and renewal. That is the life I look forward to, this year.
Ps 18:2: "The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold."
If ever I've received a prophetic word from God, that was it. While the past year brought many moments of joy and laughter, it also brought some incredibly dark days. In 2010, I was overwhelmed, frustrated, angry, discouraged, or sad more often than I've ever been. I spent countless hours on my knees, praying for circumstances to change and mountains to move. I pored over scripture, asking for answers to problems I couldn't begin to solve. I sobbed, shouted, and pleaded with God over pain and sorrow that ran so soul-deep that I could sometimes barely breathe.
Most years are marked by lots of little battles (a protracted potty-training standoff, for example). But 2010 seemed like a different type of animal. Trial after trial headed our way, the desert season seemed endless, and I spent a good deal of the year feeling like I was drowning, or at best, furiously treading water.
I'll be honest. In 2010, God's most frequent answers were "No" or "Not yet." And while I was dying for a "Yes," aching to see him move, I clung to his promises, dug deeper into his word, and staunchly refused to give in or give up. I'd love to say that I was never shaken, but trust me, I shook. I trembled, and I faltered, and I got really angry and full of doubt and tried to hide from the One who I felt was most failing me. But that verse, that promise, stuck with me. "The Lord is my rock. My fortress. My deliverer. My stronghold." I couldn't shake that.
The turning of a new year didn't magically fix the holes in my boat. Did it for you? I think we all hope that January 1st will bring a fresh start to everything in our lives, but on January 2nd, we wake up to the same reality, with a new calendar. I know the coming year will have its trials, and while I pray for a way in the desert, I know that sometimes, life just... sucks. There's a reason that we're not home yet. But life in Christ, on the rock? That life is hope, and joy, and renewal. That is the life I look forward to, this year.
Monday, October 4, 2010
diet hell
Ben and I began a new program last week called Take Shape for Life. I've been asking the Lord to show me ways to honor my husband, and when he wanted to try this weight-management program, I thought, "Hurray! What a great opportunity for me to show him how much I respect and honor him! This will be fabulous and life-affirming and team-building!"
Oh, golly.
We have survived almost one week on an 1100-calorie-a-day diet of basically really horrible food (no offense, Medifast) that brings us absolutely zero pleasure. I've been lethargic, exhausted, fuzzy-headed, depressed, irritable, and HUNGRY. So, so hungry. Five seconds after I finish a "meal," I'm starving again. When we're not feeling suicidal or homicidal, we're just bummed, and thinking about food. I'm told that one of these mornings I will wake up with an amazing amount of energy and motivation and will know that I have entered the mythical "fat-burning" phase of the program, and that my pesky ten to fifteen extra pounds will begin to melt away, and that I will no longer feel insatiably, unconsolably starving. I'm clinging to that promise.
I am learning some things. I'm beginning to understand my rather unhealthy relationship with food. It appears that I took enormous pleasure in food, because there's a significant hole in my life where cheese and ice cream used to reside. I'm beginning to think about eating deliberately and purposefully, which is new. I've never struggled much with my weight (which is wholly the blessing of good genes), but I was becoming an extremely undisciplined eater. If nothing else, going through this experience should help me to make better choices when it comes to my health.
But seriously... I want a cookie.
Oh, golly.
We have survived almost one week on an 1100-calorie-a-day diet of basically really horrible food (no offense, Medifast) that brings us absolutely zero pleasure. I've been lethargic, exhausted, fuzzy-headed, depressed, irritable, and HUNGRY. So, so hungry. Five seconds after I finish a "meal," I'm starving again. When we're not feeling suicidal or homicidal, we're just bummed, and thinking about food. I'm told that one of these mornings I will wake up with an amazing amount of energy and motivation and will know that I have entered the mythical "fat-burning" phase of the program, and that my pesky ten to fifteen extra pounds will begin to melt away, and that I will no longer feel insatiably, unconsolably starving. I'm clinging to that promise.
I am learning some things. I'm beginning to understand my rather unhealthy relationship with food. It appears that I took enormous pleasure in food, because there's a significant hole in my life where cheese and ice cream used to reside. I'm beginning to think about eating deliberately and purposefully, which is new. I've never struggled much with my weight (which is wholly the blessing of good genes), but I was becoming an extremely undisciplined eater. If nothing else, going through this experience should help me to make better choices when it comes to my health.
But seriously... I want a cookie.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
falling short
Every evening, before I go to bed, I imagine that the next day will go something like this:
6:30 Rise and shine! Have a half-hour of intimate Bible study and worship followed by an invigorating workout. Shower, get dressed. Maybe a cute sundress, jewelry, sandals. Do hair. Put on makeup. Take many vitamins.
8:00 Greet children warmly and cheerfully. Take Eli to the potty, dress him in real underwear, confident that it will be the only pair he wears today. Get children dressed.
8:30 Make nutritious breakfast - maybe blueberry pancakes or oatmeal and whole-grain toast. Fresh fruit, of course. Give Eli a cup of plain milk, which he will happily drink. Empty the dishwasher and reload the breakfast dishes. Be thankful that I took the time to clean the kitchen the night before. Marvel at how efficiently my morning is humming along.
9:00 Take completely prepared diaper bag and neatly dressed and groomed children out to the car. Run five or six errands with great efficiency, using coupons and reusable grocery totes. Listen to upbeat Kids' Mix on my ipod and enjoy as Eli sings along to every song. Dispense one - only one - nutritious snack. Make multiple potty stops, and marvel at how Eli is dry at every one of them!
11:30 Make spontaneous stop at the playground. Fountains? No problem! Grab pre-packed "Park Bag" from back of the car, stocked with sunscreen, swim clothes, towels, and snacks. Lazily talk on the phone with sister-in-law while the boys happily play in the fountain and the play gym. Smile proudly as Eli plays nicely with other children, although of course, I'm not surprised. He's raised really well.
12:30 Home for lunch! Whip up a healthy lunch of whole-wheat pita chips, hummus, cucumbers and fresh fruit. Eat with my children, while Eli regales me with joyful tales from the park and tells me about numbers, letters, colors, and shapes. Which he knows. Weave important life lessons into the conversation, which are instantly imprinted into his mind and heart.
1:00 Nap time! Smile approvingly as Eli poops in the potty in two minutes flat. Put children to bed. Clean house (according to well-prepared cleaning schedule), check email, read several chapters of an engrossing novel, and paint toenails. Marvel at how wisely I am using my time.
3:30 Get children up from naps (warmly, again). Engage children in any one of the following enriching activities: Art Time (from the well-stocked Art Time box), Pretend Play, Outdoor Play, Nature Walk, Letters and Sounds, Tumbling and Fitness. Approach impending dinner time with complete calm and ease.
5:00 Time to make dinner! Feel absolutely no panic as I consult my weekly menu, find all necessary (fresh!) ingredients in the refrigerator and pantry, and whip up an innovative and nutritionally dense meal that the whole family will love. Take a few moments to sweep through the living room and put away toys, and touch up hair and makeup in the mirror, in anticipation of hubby's arrival home.
6:00 Welcome husband home with warm smile, inviting hug, and a cold beverage. Sit down together to enjoy delicious meal and stimulating conversation about our day. After dinner, quickly clean the kitchen.
7:30 Bathe children and get them ready for bed. Read a variety of books together, then spend several minutes in prayer, enjoying how much Eli loves to pray on his own. Put children to bed, knowing that they will go to sleep immediately and sleep soundly in their beds.
8:00 Spend an hour with hubby, enjoying our favorite tv show. Eat one single ounce of dark chocolate, and marvel at how much it satisfies me. Glamorously drink a glass of red wine.
9:00 Sweep and mop kitchen floor, start dishwasher, and clean out and repack diaper bag and all "just in case" bags for the next day.
9:30 Wash face thoroughly. Use luxurious eye cream to pamper my tired, puffy eyes. Read in bed for half an hour, turn out the lights, and fall into a deep, restful sleep.
Sounds nice, doesn't it?
Here's how it turns out:
6:30 Through drug-like fog caused by taking a sleeping pill after tossing and turning half the night, hear alarm go off. Hit snooze twice. Turn alarm off and determine to get up early tomorrow.
8:00 Hear Eli pounding on his bedroom door. Stumble into the bathroom, brush teeth, and pull hair into a ponytail. Begin praying for strength.
8:15 Greet Eli with a half-smile and barely-open eyes. Whisper, "Are you poopy?" The answer, of course, is yes. Change poopy diaper while Eli screams for his diaper rash medicine. Drag him, kicking and screaming, into the bathroom to pee in the potty, which, he claims, he cannot do. "My penis is broken, Mommy." Put on his underwear. Make mental note that he is running out of clean underwear. Again. Determine that tomorrow, we will stay home all day, every day, until he finishes potty training. Get Lucas.
8:45 Take kids downstairs. Struggle to open eyes while slicing a banana. Give kids cereal and bananas. Give Eli juice because milk is simply not worth the battle. Determine that starting tomorrow, he will not whine about juice. Eat my cereal in the dark, on the couch, half-comatose. use couch cushion as a shield to hide behind. Continue praying for strength.
9:00 Begin getting ready for the day. Dress in sweats and a tank top. Put on running shoes and hope that people think I was just working out. Try to make bangs work, give up, and pin them back. Put on mascara so that people don't wonder if I have lazy eyes. Listen to Lucas cry downstairs and wonder which type of bodily harm Eli has inflicted upon him. Determine to buy the perfect book about three-year-old aggression and put it into practice. Pray for patience.
9:15 Pick outfits for the kids. Try to make presentable outfits out of what clean clothes I can find. Remind myself to start the laundry before we leave the house. Immediately forget. Get the kids dressed and unruly hair tamed. Spend thirty minutes scurrying around the house, packing the diaper bag, forgetting items to pack into diaper bag, making multiple trips upstairs for things I've forgotten. Sit down halfway through and try to make a shopping list, but keep getting distracted by endless whining, crying, brotherly beatdowns, time-outs, and loving lectures that seem to bounce right off my brick wall of a child. Finally get kids into the car, make two or three trips back inside for things I've forgotten, and hope that no one calls the police while my children wail in the car. Feel like I've already lived six days in one morning. Pray... for everything.
10:00 Leave to run errands. Get coffee and marvel at how utterly addicted I am. Wait expectantly for caffeine to kick in (will still be waiting for this hours later). Run three of seven planned errands, due to whining, meltdowns, lack of planning, and total lack of energy. Know that I should stop at the grocery store now, even though I feel like I'm going to drop dead of exhaustion, but make the wholly unwise choice to "just go after naptime."
12:00 Make spontaneous stop at the park. Spend half an hour chasing Lucas, playing referee, giving firm-but-gentle reminders not to hit, giving firm-and-not-so-gentle reminders not to hit, wishing I'd brought snacks, wishing I had more patience, praying for more patience. Realize after half an hour that I forgot to put sunscreen on the kids. Watch as kids get soaked in their clothes because I forgot to put their swim clothes back in the Park Bag. Marvel at how Eli cannot seem to relate to other children on the playground, and swear under my breath at the woman who tells me that I have an adorable baby and a beautiful daughter. Consider tattooing "I AM A BOY" on Eli's chest.
1:00 Drive two naked children home for lunch. Feel hours of mounting frustration settling into my neck as Eli yells, "MOM WHAT IS THAT YOU HAVE TO TURN YOUR HEAD MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM!" for the tenth time in five minutes. Yell at him. Feel terrible for yelling. Pray for a guard over my mouth. Get home and briefly consider leaving them in the car while I take a nap. Throw together any food-like substances I can find that require less than three minutes of preparation, while Lucas cries in his high chair and Eli finds new ways to hurt him. Send Eli to time-out three times in the course of a ten-minute lunch. Sit on the couch, hide from my children, and scarf down a bowl of cereal so that my stomach won't growl during my nap.
1:30 Dump Lucas in his crib and shut the door on his crying. Argue with Eli over using the potty before nap time. Marvel at how he can sit for twenty minutes or more without pooping. Give up and put him to bed. Think about all of the things on my to-do list while I crawl under the covers and pull them over my head.
2:00-4:00 Nap, putter, half-heartedly clean something, watch tv, read trash on the internet. Think about working out. Think about reading my Bible. Think about reading something from the giant stack of overdue library books. Do none of the above. Stare into space. Begin to panic about dinner.
4:00 Get children up, clean up more poop, and spend the next hour playing cars, chasing, wrestling, blowing bubbles, and stare off into space in a daze. Lose my patience with Eli five or six times. Pray for more patience. Marvel at how I can feel so mind-numbingly tired, day after day.
5:30 Realize that it's five-thirty and I have absolutely no plan for dinner. Haul tired, cranky, hungry kids to the grocery store, rack my empty brain to come up with something edible. Spend too much money on one meal because I didn't plan ahead, again. Think about carefully organized coupons, sitting at home on the counter.
6:30 Feed kids frozen corn dogs or chicken nuggets while I start dinner for Ben and me. Eat my dinner alone because Ben has to work late. Take kids for a walk to kill the time before bed because I think if I try to sit down and play with them that I will fall asleep. Or cry.
8:00 Get kids ready for bed. Try to read to Lucas and give up because he won't sit still for two seconds. Let him crawl around Eli's room while I read to Eli and hope that he's getting some of the benefit. Continually remind myself to treasure these days while I try to keep my eyes open. Say a one-minute prayer and marvel at how Eli still refuses to pray on his own. Put Luke to bed. Put Eli to bed, knowing that he will be out of it again in a heartbeat, and will be crying at the door within an hour with a poopy diaper.
8:45 Watch TV in our bedroom while Ben works out in the living room (a good thing, really). Sit and talk with him for a few minutes while he eats his dinner. Get ready for bed, skip washing my face because I'm too tired. Read for five minutes before I can barely stay awake. Attempt to fall asleep without any medication. Feel a migraine coming on, take medication, and fall asleep knowing that I will still feel exhausted in the morning.
This is, generally speaking, how my days unfold. I am amazed at how often and how spectacularly I fall short of my own expectations. Some days are better than others, of course. Most days I accomplish something; every once in awhile I accomplish a lot. I do spend a lot of time with my kids, and I do engage with them - I actually love to play with them, read to them, take walks with them. I know I'm a good mommy, and a good wife, and a "good" Christian. It just feels like I always fall short - a little or a lot. I'm never as organized as I want to be. Never as prepared as I want to be. I never have enough energy - or anywhere near enough. I am always tired. I have headaches every day. I have joint pain and back pain and neck pain, and I feel weary and old. I struggle with my three-year-old's mood swings, battles of the will, aggression toward his brother, and constant - constant - noise - questions, commentary, whining, demands. I struggle with my one-year-old's neediness and dependence. I long for moments to myself, but when I get them, I don't use them well enough. I feel like I waste an enormous amount of time. I know moms with with young children who seem to use every day so productively - they homeschool, they make huge batches of meals, they freeze enough fruit for an army and still make time to put together scrapbooks. I know moms who tackle big projects and see them through to the finish. I never finish a project. I am a serial project-abandoner.
Some days, I feel like an absolute loser. I look at my flabby belly, my messy house, my kid throwing a fit on the floor and think, "Why can't you just get it together?" But I am gently reminded of a God who loves me, and accepts me, in all of my miserable states. In my weaknesses, my shortcomings, my failures - as overwhelming as they may sometimes feel - even when I feel totally worthless, He sings over me. The God of the universe looks at my pitiful self and delights in me. Best of all, He gives me permission to try again. Tomorrow.
6:30 Rise and shine! Have a half-hour of intimate Bible study and worship followed by an invigorating workout. Shower, get dressed. Maybe a cute sundress, jewelry, sandals. Do hair. Put on makeup. Take many vitamins.
8:00 Greet children warmly and cheerfully. Take Eli to the potty, dress him in real underwear, confident that it will be the only pair he wears today. Get children dressed.
8:30 Make nutritious breakfast - maybe blueberry pancakes or oatmeal and whole-grain toast. Fresh fruit, of course. Give Eli a cup of plain milk, which he will happily drink. Empty the dishwasher and reload the breakfast dishes. Be thankful that I took the time to clean the kitchen the night before. Marvel at how efficiently my morning is humming along.
9:00 Take completely prepared diaper bag and neatly dressed and groomed children out to the car. Run five or six errands with great efficiency, using coupons and reusable grocery totes. Listen to upbeat Kids' Mix on my ipod and enjoy as Eli sings along to every song. Dispense one - only one - nutritious snack. Make multiple potty stops, and marvel at how Eli is dry at every one of them!
11:30 Make spontaneous stop at the playground. Fountains? No problem! Grab pre-packed "Park Bag" from back of the car, stocked with sunscreen, swim clothes, towels, and snacks. Lazily talk on the phone with sister-in-law while the boys happily play in the fountain and the play gym. Smile proudly as Eli plays nicely with other children, although of course, I'm not surprised. He's raised really well.
12:30 Home for lunch! Whip up a healthy lunch of whole-wheat pita chips, hummus, cucumbers and fresh fruit. Eat with my children, while Eli regales me with joyful tales from the park and tells me about numbers, letters, colors, and shapes. Which he knows. Weave important life lessons into the conversation, which are instantly imprinted into his mind and heart.
1:00 Nap time! Smile approvingly as Eli poops in the potty in two minutes flat. Put children to bed. Clean house (according to well-prepared cleaning schedule), check email, read several chapters of an engrossing novel, and paint toenails. Marvel at how wisely I am using my time.
3:30 Get children up from naps (warmly, again). Engage children in any one of the following enriching activities: Art Time (from the well-stocked Art Time box), Pretend Play, Outdoor Play, Nature Walk, Letters and Sounds, Tumbling and Fitness. Approach impending dinner time with complete calm and ease.
5:00 Time to make dinner! Feel absolutely no panic as I consult my weekly menu, find all necessary (fresh!) ingredients in the refrigerator and pantry, and whip up an innovative and nutritionally dense meal that the whole family will love. Take a few moments to sweep through the living room and put away toys, and touch up hair and makeup in the mirror, in anticipation of hubby's arrival home.
6:00 Welcome husband home with warm smile, inviting hug, and a cold beverage. Sit down together to enjoy delicious meal and stimulating conversation about our day. After dinner, quickly clean the kitchen.
7:30 Bathe children and get them ready for bed. Read a variety of books together, then spend several minutes in prayer, enjoying how much Eli loves to pray on his own. Put children to bed, knowing that they will go to sleep immediately and sleep soundly in their beds.
8:00 Spend an hour with hubby, enjoying our favorite tv show. Eat one single ounce of dark chocolate, and marvel at how much it satisfies me. Glamorously drink a glass of red wine.
9:00 Sweep and mop kitchen floor, start dishwasher, and clean out and repack diaper bag and all "just in case" bags for the next day.
9:30 Wash face thoroughly. Use luxurious eye cream to pamper my tired, puffy eyes. Read in bed for half an hour, turn out the lights, and fall into a deep, restful sleep.
Sounds nice, doesn't it?
Here's how it turns out:
6:30 Through drug-like fog caused by taking a sleeping pill after tossing and turning half the night, hear alarm go off. Hit snooze twice. Turn alarm off and determine to get up early tomorrow.
8:00 Hear Eli pounding on his bedroom door. Stumble into the bathroom, brush teeth, and pull hair into a ponytail. Begin praying for strength.
8:15 Greet Eli with a half-smile and barely-open eyes. Whisper, "Are you poopy?" The answer, of course, is yes. Change poopy diaper while Eli screams for his diaper rash medicine. Drag him, kicking and screaming, into the bathroom to pee in the potty, which, he claims, he cannot do. "My penis is broken, Mommy." Put on his underwear. Make mental note that he is running out of clean underwear. Again. Determine that tomorrow, we will stay home all day, every day, until he finishes potty training. Get Lucas.
8:45 Take kids downstairs. Struggle to open eyes while slicing a banana. Give kids cereal and bananas. Give Eli juice because milk is simply not worth the battle. Determine that starting tomorrow, he will not whine about juice. Eat my cereal in the dark, on the couch, half-comatose. use couch cushion as a shield to hide behind. Continue praying for strength.
9:00 Begin getting ready for the day. Dress in sweats and a tank top. Put on running shoes and hope that people think I was just working out. Try to make bangs work, give up, and pin them back. Put on mascara so that people don't wonder if I have lazy eyes. Listen to Lucas cry downstairs and wonder which type of bodily harm Eli has inflicted upon him. Determine to buy the perfect book about three-year-old aggression and put it into practice. Pray for patience.
9:15 Pick outfits for the kids. Try to make presentable outfits out of what clean clothes I can find. Remind myself to start the laundry before we leave the house. Immediately forget. Get the kids dressed and unruly hair tamed. Spend thirty minutes scurrying around the house, packing the diaper bag, forgetting items to pack into diaper bag, making multiple trips upstairs for things I've forgotten. Sit down halfway through and try to make a shopping list, but keep getting distracted by endless whining, crying, brotherly beatdowns, time-outs, and loving lectures that seem to bounce right off my brick wall of a child. Finally get kids into the car, make two or three trips back inside for things I've forgotten, and hope that no one calls the police while my children wail in the car. Feel like I've already lived six days in one morning. Pray... for everything.
10:00 Leave to run errands. Get coffee and marvel at how utterly addicted I am. Wait expectantly for caffeine to kick in (will still be waiting for this hours later). Run three of seven planned errands, due to whining, meltdowns, lack of planning, and total lack of energy. Know that I should stop at the grocery store now, even though I feel like I'm going to drop dead of exhaustion, but make the wholly unwise choice to "just go after naptime."
12:00 Make spontaneous stop at the park. Spend half an hour chasing Lucas, playing referee, giving firm-but-gentle reminders not to hit, giving firm-and-not-so-gentle reminders not to hit, wishing I'd brought snacks, wishing I had more patience, praying for more patience. Realize after half an hour that I forgot to put sunscreen on the kids. Watch as kids get soaked in their clothes because I forgot to put their swim clothes back in the Park Bag. Marvel at how Eli cannot seem to relate to other children on the playground, and swear under my breath at the woman who tells me that I have an adorable baby and a beautiful daughter. Consider tattooing "I AM A BOY" on Eli's chest.
1:00 Drive two naked children home for lunch. Feel hours of mounting frustration settling into my neck as Eli yells, "MOM WHAT IS THAT YOU HAVE TO TURN YOUR HEAD MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM!" for the tenth time in five minutes. Yell at him. Feel terrible for yelling. Pray for a guard over my mouth. Get home and briefly consider leaving them in the car while I take a nap. Throw together any food-like substances I can find that require less than three minutes of preparation, while Lucas cries in his high chair and Eli finds new ways to hurt him. Send Eli to time-out three times in the course of a ten-minute lunch. Sit on the couch, hide from my children, and scarf down a bowl of cereal so that my stomach won't growl during my nap.
1:30 Dump Lucas in his crib and shut the door on his crying. Argue with Eli over using the potty before nap time. Marvel at how he can sit for twenty minutes or more without pooping. Give up and put him to bed. Think about all of the things on my to-do list while I crawl under the covers and pull them over my head.
2:00-4:00 Nap, putter, half-heartedly clean something, watch tv, read trash on the internet. Think about working out. Think about reading my Bible. Think about reading something from the giant stack of overdue library books. Do none of the above. Stare into space. Begin to panic about dinner.
4:00 Get children up, clean up more poop, and spend the next hour playing cars, chasing, wrestling, blowing bubbles, and stare off into space in a daze. Lose my patience with Eli five or six times. Pray for more patience. Marvel at how I can feel so mind-numbingly tired, day after day.
5:30 Realize that it's five-thirty and I have absolutely no plan for dinner. Haul tired, cranky, hungry kids to the grocery store, rack my empty brain to come up with something edible. Spend too much money on one meal because I didn't plan ahead, again. Think about carefully organized coupons, sitting at home on the counter.
6:30 Feed kids frozen corn dogs or chicken nuggets while I start dinner for Ben and me. Eat my dinner alone because Ben has to work late. Take kids for a walk to kill the time before bed because I think if I try to sit down and play with them that I will fall asleep. Or cry.
8:00 Get kids ready for bed. Try to read to Lucas and give up because he won't sit still for two seconds. Let him crawl around Eli's room while I read to Eli and hope that he's getting some of the benefit. Continually remind myself to treasure these days while I try to keep my eyes open. Say a one-minute prayer and marvel at how Eli still refuses to pray on his own. Put Luke to bed. Put Eli to bed, knowing that he will be out of it again in a heartbeat, and will be crying at the door within an hour with a poopy diaper.
8:45 Watch TV in our bedroom while Ben works out in the living room (a good thing, really). Sit and talk with him for a few minutes while he eats his dinner. Get ready for bed, skip washing my face because I'm too tired. Read for five minutes before I can barely stay awake. Attempt to fall asleep without any medication. Feel a migraine coming on, take medication, and fall asleep knowing that I will still feel exhausted in the morning.
This is, generally speaking, how my days unfold. I am amazed at how often and how spectacularly I fall short of my own expectations. Some days are better than others, of course. Most days I accomplish something; every once in awhile I accomplish a lot. I do spend a lot of time with my kids, and I do engage with them - I actually love to play with them, read to them, take walks with them. I know I'm a good mommy, and a good wife, and a "good" Christian. It just feels like I always fall short - a little or a lot. I'm never as organized as I want to be. Never as prepared as I want to be. I never have enough energy - or anywhere near enough. I am always tired. I have headaches every day. I have joint pain and back pain and neck pain, and I feel weary and old. I struggle with my three-year-old's mood swings, battles of the will, aggression toward his brother, and constant - constant - noise - questions, commentary, whining, demands. I struggle with my one-year-old's neediness and dependence. I long for moments to myself, but when I get them, I don't use them well enough. I feel like I waste an enormous amount of time. I know moms with with young children who seem to use every day so productively - they homeschool, they make huge batches of meals, they freeze enough fruit for an army and still make time to put together scrapbooks. I know moms who tackle big projects and see them through to the finish. I never finish a project. I am a serial project-abandoner.
Some days, I feel like an absolute loser. I look at my flabby belly, my messy house, my kid throwing a fit on the floor and think, "Why can't you just get it together?" But I am gently reminded of a God who loves me, and accepts me, in all of my miserable states. In my weaknesses, my shortcomings, my failures - as overwhelming as they may sometimes feel - even when I feel totally worthless, He sings over me. The God of the universe looks at my pitiful self and delights in me. Best of all, He gives me permission to try again. Tomorrow.
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