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.

summer

Summer has finally arrived in Portland, so we've been taking advantage of our new friend the sun. Lots of trips to the park, playing in fountains, late evening walks, and homemade ice cream.







We took Eli fishing for the first time this weekend. We went to a funny little place called Horning's Hideout in North Plains. It's basically somebody's old house with a giant pond and rambling property. But for $3 you get a pole and some bait, and the "lake" is well-stocked. We brought home seven big, tasty rainbow trout.



Eli tried fishing with Daddy, but he was about as patient as you'd imagine. He was more interested in catching salamanders with the net. Or himself.


Summer makes me so happy. I love every season and I'm so thankful to live in a place where we experience all four. But summer is special. The sounds, the smells, the experiences bring back a flood of happy memories from my childhood. I was raised in rural Idaho (I know, what other kind of Idaho is there?), and I spent summers outdoors. My parents were both teachers, and they loved to travel. We spent weeks at a time traveling the country in our RV. We camped in the beautiful Idaho mountains, fished and swam in the rivers and lakes, drank hot cocoa in our pajamas around the campfire. Something about camping is just... magical.

Close to home, most of the summer days were spent outdoors. We had a big, above-ground pool and I was an absolute fish, swimming and diving and splashing for hours. I've always had a thing for swimming, for bodies of water in general, and chlorine is still one of my favorite smells. We played in the sprinklers and dug in the dirt and took long, late walks in the waning evening light. As a teenager, I loved driving home through the country after dusk, the windows rolled down and the fresh breeze blowing through my old clunker car. The scent of mint and onion fields still transports me back to those lovely summer nights.

As my children grow, I realize how much I long to raise them to be nature lovers. Parks and playgrounds are amazing, and we are blessed with an abundance of them here. But in reality, they are man-made, still an artificial substitute for real, wide-open spaces. It is certainly easier to stay home, watch TV and play in the yard. But I trust that the hassle and effort of planning, packing, hauling, driving - everything it takes to get our family "out there" - is well worth it. I think we are raising our boys to love the outdoors, to find beauty and adventure in tall grass and jagged mountains, in crashing waves and gurgling streams, in ladybugs and snakes and bluejays. And, oh yes, in post-adventure sno-cones. Most definitely in sno-cones.

gossip

I stumbled across something yesterday. Completely insignificant, it nonetheless represented a small personal victory. I wanted to share it.

But it was snarky and catty and downright mean.

So I kept it to myself.

All day, I fought the temptation to tell someone. My sister, my husband, my best friend... surely, sharing it with one little person wouldn't matter. Right?

But the Holy Spirit made it clear. No.

As I lay in bed, I almost turned to my husband and blurted it out. "You won't believe --"

But then I thought of Mary. And I decided to "treasure these things in my heart," instead.

And then I smiled in the dark with self-satisfaction.

And then the Lord reminded me that that's really not the point of the verse. And also, that I should probably repent. And then pray for that person. Sincerely.

Rats.

a peek inside

A friend recently mentioned that she is sometimes discouraged by "perfect mom" blogs. "Sometimes?" I thought.

So as proof that this blog is written by the most imperfect of women, a sample of my thoughts today. Don't ever be fooled... it is only by His grace that I do anything.

* * * * *
I'm not reading enough with Lucas. I'm not playing enough with Lucas.
He's never going to talk. Or walk. But I should be helping with the talk.
Poor Lucas. Good thing he's cute.
He's not as photogenic as Eli. Sometimes he looks like a really ugly baby in his pictures.
I didn't say that.

Eli won't poop on the potty. A year later, he still won't poop on the potty. I suck.
No, I don't suck. He sucks.
I didn't say that.

I should clip coupons.
I should make a shopping list so I might actually use the coupons.
I should plan meals so I could make the shopping list to use the coupons.
I should get the paper so I would get the coupons.
I spend more on the paper than I save in coupons.
I hate coupons. Screw it.

Where is my Bible?
How I can not know where my Bible is?
When did I last read my Bible?
I really do love God's word.
No, really. Like, I love it.
So why do I find it so stinking hard to read it every day?
Lord, thank you for always showing up.
Thank you for always feeding me.
Thank you for meeting me where I am.
Even when where I am is miles from where you want me.
Even more miles from where I want to be.

I'm not going to read US Weekly ever again.
I'll read my Bible instead.
Maybe I can read it after I read my Bible.
For crying out loud, Alisa. Read a book.

Is there anything good on the DVR?
No. Darn it.
I should clean house instead.
I should fold the laundry. I've dewrinkled that load of t-shirts five times already.
No, I should clean the kitchen. And put away toys.
And organize the toys.
And organize the office.
And clean the bathrooms.
And behind the stove.
Can I even move the stove?
I've got to get up and get busy.
Oooh... Top Chef!

There's the stupid dinosaur book I've been looking for all week.
Eli will be thrilled.
When did the dinosaurs live? I should look it up.
Bless you, Wikipedia.

Eli still doesn't know his colors. Or letters. Or sounds.
And he can't write his name.
Some great teacher I am.
Doesn't matter. He can't go to preschool if he won't poop in the potty.

Lucas is awake. I should get him up to play.
Sometimes I hate playing with my baby. I get bored.
I'm a terrible mother.

I should exercise. As soon as we get home, I'm going to exercise.
When's the last time I exercised? Last Tuesday? Man, that's sad.
Maybe if I exercise, I can have some ice cream.
I should buy some ice cream. Then I'll be motivated to work out.
Or just eat ice cream.

Oh, God, thank you for your grace. I would be lost without it.
Hopeless without it.
Helpless without it.
I can barely function with it, for pete's sake.

Crap, it's five o'clock. What am I going to make for dinner?
I hate cooking dinner.
I love to cook, but I hate cooking dinner. Weird.
No, not weird. Normal. My mom says so.
My mom is great.
I should call her.

Eli's awake. I bet he pooped.

* * * * *

confessions of an unfit mother

I came across this article tonight http://theweek.com/article/index/96342/The_last_word_Advice_from_Americas_worst_mom. All I can say is, "Finally!" Thank you, thank you, thank you, mystery woman, for being a mother I can relate to. You see, I am That Mom. I am the mom who has left her two young children in the car, doors locked, alarm armed, to go into the grocery store for FIVE MINUTES and buy milk... and have returned to find my car surrounded by several Very Concerned Mothers taking down my license plate number and yelling at me about Who Do I Think I Am?!! Yep, I'm that mom. I'm the mom who doesn't freak out when her baby eats a little dirt, the mom who lets her three-year-old ride his tricycle without a helmet (heck, without shoes), the mom who would let her kids play in the front yard by themselves... if only the neighbors wouldn't call CPS. I'm a mom who insists on "Yes Ma'am" and "May I please?" I'm a mom with spanking spoon.

Don't get me wrong. I am responsible. My kids wear their seatbelts. They sleep on their backs. I hold their hands when we cross the street. They wear helmets in the bike trailer and eat organic fruit and sit far, far away from the television. I am caring, engaged, and conscientious. I am, in fact, a really good mom.

And I, too, am sick of irrational fears being shoved down my throat. The way Nancy Grace tells it, with her nightly BOMBSHELL news, there is little hope that my children won't be abducted and sold into slavery - that is, if I ever let them out of my sight. I realize how much the world has changed since I was a kid, but I desperately want my children to have a taste of the sense of freedom I had. I want to send my son on his bike to a friend's house on a summer evening without immediately playing scenes from The Lovely Bones in my mind. I hate feeling so afraid for them. But I hate even more the pressure that I should feel ten times more afraid, the damning judgment from other mothers who are, clearly, so much better suited to raise my children.

So if you ever see my poor little boys trapped in the car in front of the coffee shop, please, just shake your head and walk on by. You can rant about it later on your blog.

birthdays, etc.

We celebrated our boys' birthdays in April. Lucas turned one and Eli turned three (and I turned 25, again) within days of each other. We threw them a joint birthday party in the park. We had to reschedule the party and move to a new location at the last minute, so we were thankful for flexible and understanding friends. The theme of the party was Up!, my favorite animated movie ever.







My darling husband, who is known for fairly elaborate birthday cakes, upped the ante by about 150% with his Up house cake. He stayed up all night before the party (with the help of his brother - thanks, Matt) to bring his grand vision to life.







It really was amazing. If orthodontics doesn't work out, I think he could give the Ace of Cakes guy a run for his money.




It's such a cliche, but it really is so hard to believe how quickly my guys are growing. Eli is at a really fun age. Full of questions (and questions, and questions), developing a real sense of humor, learning and understanding new things at lightning speed, and saying so many funny things that I have to jot them down in my phone to share them with Ben every night. Eli loves to read (WIN), and loves to play outside. The kid would live in our driveway if he could. Since our acreage leaves a little to be desired, we spend lots of time park-hopping around the west suburbs. Our favorite parks are Bethany Meadows ("Pirate Park"), Magnolia, and Rood Bridge. One of the greatest things about the Portland area is the amazing abundance of parks, playgrounds, and green spaces. There seems to be a park of some kind on every block. Eli got a tricycle for his birthday and loves to ride it (although he prefers scooting to pedaling). We also gave ourselves a family birthday gift and bought a bike trailer, which has quickly become an oft-requested activity.



Luke's first year of life flew by. He is crawling, pulling up on furniture, babbling, and getting into everything. Lucas is a pretty happy baby, but decidedly more high-maintenance than Eli. He wants to be held and played with all the time. Eli was always content to play by himself for long periods of time - Luke, not so much. The evenings (and by evening, I mean from the moment he wakes up from nap until the moment he goes to bed), he cries this really annoying, fussy, whiny cry any time he isn't getting attention or food. Sometimes I feel like a zookeeper, tossing food at him to keep him happy while I cook, clean, entertain Eli, and occasionally try to talk to my husband. Lucas is a very sweet baby, though, and has a darling smile and laugh. It's been especially fun to see Eli start to play with him, rather than just on top of him. Someday, I remind myself, they will be the best of friends.

A couple of other random notes on life:

I am THRILLED to see warm, sunny weather emerge after months of gray, cold, rainy days. I've struggled with low energy for years, and I was beginning to think I might never "rise and shine" again. I'm amazed at how differently I feel and how much I accomplish just because the sun is shining. The Pacific Northwest in the spring and summer is breathtaking, and well worth the lousy weather we see from November to April. Looking forward to camping and trips to the beach this summer.

Some great friends came to visit us a couple of weeks ago from Idaho. Erica's been a dear friend since we were little girls, and her husband Scottie and Ben are two peas in a pod. We had a great time with them, spending time at the beach and playing Rock Band late into the night. They loved our church (and who wouldn't?) and our adopted hometown, and I loved having my kindred-spirit friend in town to indulge in some much-needed girl talk over the world's greatest chai (apparently). Erica is a wise, Godly woman with four kids and a great sense of humor. Win, win, win.


I am training for the Portland marathon in October. "Training" might be a stretch. I'm trying to run two to three modest runs (4-5 miles) a week, with a longer run on the weekend. I'm only up to seven miles, so I'm glad to have several months still to train. The biggest challenge is definitely finding the time to run, since I can only run with the kids in the stroller for a couple of miles before I collapse and have to be rescued by helicopter. I'm discovering how much I love to run, which is a nice surprise. Even with 80-year-old joints (seriously, my knees are a disaster), I feel so happy and well and alive when I'm running. That's a God thing right there, folks.

saturday

If you came to my house today, you would find:

A dishwasher full of clean dishes and a sink full of dirty ones.

Clean laundry sitting in the dryer, patiently waiting for Dewrinkle Cycle one of six before finally being folded and put away.

Toys. Everywhere. Everywhere.

One child watching television, spinning in circles, making messes, beating on his brother, getting into mischief, giving hugs and kisses, and pooping in his underwear.

One child crawling on the floor, playing with small objects, being beaten upon, whining, fussing, crying, and laughing.

Occasional non-violent interaction between said children (win).

A mommy with a headache, half-ignoring her children, completely ignoring the mess, closing the blinds to the brilliant sunshine and lazily blogging on her computer.

Not my best day. Not my worst either.