I really love biology. Loved it in high school and loved it again when I took it at UW just a few short years ago. Ideally, I'll end up in a field that deals with it, but right now is not the time to be too discerning about what the future holds.
I've always thought one of the most interesting aspects of animal behavior is the idea of fight or flight. That when presented with some kind of very real threat, we have two choices. We run from it or we do battle.
In parenthood, you kind of have to choose the second.
Before you think I sound crazy and violent, hear me out on this.
Being a parent is the first thing I have ever done that is 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Not that I ever stop being married, of course, but with a rational human adult, one can take breaks. One can ask for space. One can assume one may sleep through the night without the other one waking her up. (Well, sometimes. The early months were dicey as we figured out how to share a bed, but that's another, more comedic story.")
Once you are a parent, that's it. If your kid needs you, nothing else will do. Maybe someone will give you a night off, but you always know there is the possibility of being called home in an emergency. Maybe you'll take a weekend away with your spouse, but you are still parent. Your brain cannot move from that state of being.
So when the battles come, you have to choose fight. You have to stay in it.
Now, biologically speaking, if I were a lesser being this would probably mean punching my toddler in the face after he has just punched me in the face. Meet force with force, right? Thankfully, I have rational logic and compassion to choose a different way to fight. If I didn't, my instinct to protect myself would surely kick in. And I would fight back at a very base level. A level that would not be in my children's (or my) best interest.
But, friends. It's hard. Take someone like myself who can be easily angered and add sleep deprivation and hunger to the mix, then when my 2 year old wallops me, I really, really have to work hard not to react. Not to lash out. Not to yell or freak out. Not to put him in time out and run to google and job search immediately so I can end this stay-at-home thing asap. Not to make the whole day about the one (or ten, as the day may be) incident. Everything feels more dramatic when I am hungry and tired.
This week, as I've been preparing myself to be alone for a few weeks with the little people (with some help coming a few days here and there, lest I mislead you), I have had to work hard to not fear. To emotionally plan ahead for the witching hour and how I will handle it on my own when the baby is crying and the toddler is melting down and throwing food and my 9 year old needs someone to read his spelling words to him to practice and the dog is barking at the neighbors at the hour of the day when my energy is the lowest.
I am preparing for battle.
But, I've really wanted to prepare differently than I might have a week ago. Prepare with hope, with intention, with a "WE CAN DO THIS" attitude.
And to get there, I have got to get past this perpetual feeling of anger. Anger at my life not looking like what I imagined. Anger that I am not working and not in school. Anger at being covered in bruises. Anger at being far from family and my closest friends during this challenging season.
I came across a quote this week in a rare moment of quiet reading about how Christians should approach that which feels like it's choking us of life.
"We should run to the cross. To death. So lay down your hopes. Lay down your future. Lay down your petty annoyances. Lay down your desire to be recognized. Lay down your fussiness at your children. Lay down your perfectly clean house. Lay down your grievances about the life you are living. Lay down the imaginary life you could have by yourself. Lay them all down...Stop clinging to yourself and cling to the cross. There is more joy and more life and more laughter on the other side of death than you can possibly carry alone." (From "Mom Enough")
Ouch. And phew.
Seriously, it hurt to read it but at the same time, it was like the breath went out of me.
Clinging to myself is not the way to do battle. The only way is to enter into the battle that God himself already won.
So, as the preparations continue, as I ready our family to handle being without superdad for a few weeks, I am finding glimmers of hope, small shreds of strength, quotes that are being put on index cards and placed around the house. Any little thing that will remind me that IT WILL BE OK. And maybe more than that, IT MAY BE GOOD.
Fight or flight?
I choose fight. But I choose to fight differently.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Thursday, January 14, 2016
The Upside to Novacaine
You hear people say a lot of things about root canals; mostly, how awful they are. They seem to be the benchmark against which people measure some truly awful opportunity. "I'd rather get a root canal than have to vote for Donald Trump," someone might say. I might say that, at least.
You never hear about what good they do, though.
About 24 hours ago, I had just been told by my dentist that it was possible I would lose my tooth and have to pay $4,000 for an implant.
NO. I panicked. I had just posted a blog about how much I wanted to lean into hope, how much I intended to look for it, to write every day until my husband heads out of town and then, bam.
I was really angry. I mean, sobbing, angry.
So, when the endodontist today said that, no, actually, he could save the tooth with a root canal and let's go ahead and get this thing done and get you out of pain, it was like someone was giving me a huge puppy. OK, a puppy that required a lot of novacaine and two hours in the chair, but still.
Seriously, it's all about perspective people.
Graying, toothless, 37 year-old woman with sleep-deprived bags under eyes and an anger complex, because, really, let's add a big empty socket in my mouth right now?
OR, graying 37 year-old woman with sleep-deprived bags under eyes and a hope complex.
I'll take the second, thank you very much.
And now I sit here, very gingerly sipping some warm coffee, trying to infuse myself with some energy before the little people wake up. Maybe years ago, I would have come back from hours of dental work and thrown a movie in, but now, I'll be down and dirty on the floor, playing trucks, wrestling, changing stinky diapers, having dance parties with a numb face.
And I wouldn't have it any other way. I mean, maybe it'd be nice to have an hour on the couch with a movie, but my oldest son injured his foot in PE today so HE gets the couch and the movie and an icepack and, as I promised myself I would do, I am writing. Claiming gratefulness, looking for hope.
Yes, today, friends, I am grateful for a root canal. As the pamphlet so eloquently puts it, today my diseased pulp was replaced "with a substance that will keep the tooth functional." Sounds familiar. As I was laying in the chair, staring at the ivory ceiling, nodding along when the the doctor asked me questions, I had time to think.
This is so what God is doing right now.
He sees all this struggle, all the anger I have, the selfishness, all the ways I am way too weak to handle life on my own. He sees it, he diagnoses it. And then he drills down through my bitter exterior. He slowly, methodically, lifts out the gunk and replaces it with something that will make me function even better. He doesn't come down and rip the whole damn tooth out, leaving an empty spot and teeth that shift around and an awkward way to chew and a less than winning smile.
He saves who I am but makes it SO MUCH BETTER.
I gotta be honest, though, I do wish there was something akin to spiritual novacaine. Something that makes it feel less painful as the work is being done.
Oh, wait.
There actually is. If there was one thing I have seen, time and time again when I have found myself to be at the edge...during our miscarriage or years of infertility or waiting for our adoptions and now in the midst of an incredibly challenging phase in parenting...I have seen the people. The people who make meals. Who offer to fly out and help. Who pick up your kids so they can go play and you can nap or shower or write. Who text you things to make you laugh when you need it. Who pray.
People, friends. You guys. Spiritual novacaine.
And the upside to spiritual novacaine as opposed to a shot in the bloody gums?
You guys don't leave my face numb. You just leave it with a smile.
So, thanks. Thanks for your responses yesterday when I laid bare my heart. Thanks for those who are pitching in when he is gone. And those who are far away but who will be praying and thinking of us and yes, sending me things to make me laugh in the midst of it.
That's the kind of shot worth having.
You never hear about what good they do, though.
About 24 hours ago, I had just been told by my dentist that it was possible I would lose my tooth and have to pay $4,000 for an implant.
NO. I panicked. I had just posted a blog about how much I wanted to lean into hope, how much I intended to look for it, to write every day until my husband heads out of town and then, bam.
I was really angry. I mean, sobbing, angry.
So, when the endodontist today said that, no, actually, he could save the tooth with a root canal and let's go ahead and get this thing done and get you out of pain, it was like someone was giving me a huge puppy. OK, a puppy that required a lot of novacaine and two hours in the chair, but still.
Seriously, it's all about perspective people.
Graying, toothless, 37 year-old woman with sleep-deprived bags under eyes and an anger complex, because, really, let's add a big empty socket in my mouth right now?
OR, graying 37 year-old woman with sleep-deprived bags under eyes and a hope complex.
I'll take the second, thank you very much.
And now I sit here, very gingerly sipping some warm coffee, trying to infuse myself with some energy before the little people wake up. Maybe years ago, I would have come back from hours of dental work and thrown a movie in, but now, I'll be down and dirty on the floor, playing trucks, wrestling, changing stinky diapers, having dance parties with a numb face.
And I wouldn't have it any other way. I mean, maybe it'd be nice to have an hour on the couch with a movie, but my oldest son injured his foot in PE today so HE gets the couch and the movie and an icepack and, as I promised myself I would do, I am writing. Claiming gratefulness, looking for hope.
Yes, today, friends, I am grateful for a root canal. As the pamphlet so eloquently puts it, today my diseased pulp was replaced "with a substance that will keep the tooth functional." Sounds familiar. As I was laying in the chair, staring at the ivory ceiling, nodding along when the the doctor asked me questions, I had time to think.
This is so what God is doing right now.
He sees all this struggle, all the anger I have, the selfishness, all the ways I am way too weak to handle life on my own. He sees it, he diagnoses it. And then he drills down through my bitter exterior. He slowly, methodically, lifts out the gunk and replaces it with something that will make me function even better. He doesn't come down and rip the whole damn tooth out, leaving an empty spot and teeth that shift around and an awkward way to chew and a less than winning smile.
He saves who I am but makes it SO MUCH BETTER.
I gotta be honest, though, I do wish there was something akin to spiritual novacaine. Something that makes it feel less painful as the work is being done.
Oh, wait.
There actually is. If there was one thing I have seen, time and time again when I have found myself to be at the edge...during our miscarriage or years of infertility or waiting for our adoptions and now in the midst of an incredibly challenging phase in parenting...I have seen the people. The people who make meals. Who offer to fly out and help. Who pick up your kids so they can go play and you can nap or shower or write. Who text you things to make you laugh when you need it. Who pray.
People, friends. You guys. Spiritual novacaine.
And the upside to spiritual novacaine as opposed to a shot in the bloody gums?
You guys don't leave my face numb. You just leave it with a smile.
So, thanks. Thanks for your responses yesterday when I laid bare my heart. Thanks for those who are pitching in when he is gone. And those who are far away but who will be praying and thinking of us and yes, sending me things to make me laugh in the midst of it.
That's the kind of shot worth having.
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
The Longest Year
War movies are my favorite genre of film, particularly those telling the various different angles and fronts of the Second World War. I love the new ones and old ones alike. Anyone who shares this passion has likely seen The Longest Day, maybe the most classic movie out there about D-Day. And, frankly, one of the longest. It tells the events of that day from both Allied and German perspectives - and from most perspectives, it was a day that never seemed like it would end.
This has been our year.
From the moment our middle child learned to crawl, life has been a battle. You name it, it's a challenge. Diaper changes, leaving ANYWHERE, getting dressed, brushing teeth, not getting exactly what he wants in the exact moment that he wants it and sometimes even getting exactly what he wants in the moment that he wants it, because, toddlers. We have changed his diet, sought professional help, tried to chart the things that trigger him the most.
Many days, it seems like being awake is the only trigger he needs for spectacular, screaming, violent tantrums. ALL. DAY. LONG.
And friends? I am exhausted. When you pile on sleep deprivation from an infant and the wonderful, but tiring world of a nine year old who has a thriving social life and extracurricular interests, there is just not enough of me. With a toddler who can wear out both of his parents within an hour of waking, it seems hard to have hope that we can ever be sane again.
We had two golden months around here in August and September. Two months where we could see the good. Two months where he was happy a lot of the day, where the level of chaos and tantrums was normal for a challenging two year old. Two months where my infant slept through the night. Two months where we thought, "Hey, maybe we can do this family of five thing and more than survive it."
We don't know where it came from or where it went.
And now, 3 months later, my husband is about to leave for several weeks of travel. I have plenty of friends in the military who have endured far longer stretches without a spouse. I am not trying to pretend that my situation is dire or that many parents haven't had to endure this for years at a time. I am just trying to be real.
And if I am real? I am scared. Scared that I won't be able to do it. That my toddler will break me.
But more than the fear, I am so tired of being tired. So tired of being hopeless, exhausted, sad, angry, fearful and helpless. Tired of just surviving. Tired of dreading the day's beginning. Tired of looking at the clock every 2 minutes in the hope that is is miraculously closer to 5 pm when my husband arrives home and can take charge of him.
I have no choice in the coming weeks. I will do it. He needs to travel and be his spectacular self and dazzle in his interviews.
I will be home alone, I will be mom, 24 hours a day. And the reality is, that I am not mom enough. I never was and never can be. And, oh, I so want to be.
So, because I am so tired of feeling defeated, from today until he leaves, I am going to make every effort to write one blog post daily. Just one post focusing on something that will help me look at these coming weeks as an opportunity to dig into the deepest wells of grace, hope and forgiveness that I can possibly dig into. Maybe I'll make a list of who, physically, can come take over if I am about to lose it. Maybe I'll have to lean into God's perspective of my boy to see past my anger and fatigue.
Bottom line, I don't know what will come out of this. But I am challenging myself today to find elusive hope. And because, historically, I have been able to find hope in hidden places when I've taken the risk to vulnerably write, then, gosh darn-it, I am going to find the time to write. Every day, even if it isn't pretty or polished. Even if I have to type through tears or with someone screaming in the background, I. WILL. WRITE.
Because, friends, something has to change. If there is one thing I can cling to right now, it is that God is always about redemption, about transforming things from ashes to beauty, bringing dead things to life.
And HE is God enough.
This has been our year.
From the moment our middle child learned to crawl, life has been a battle. You name it, it's a challenge. Diaper changes, leaving ANYWHERE, getting dressed, brushing teeth, not getting exactly what he wants in the exact moment that he wants it and sometimes even getting exactly what he wants in the moment that he wants it, because, toddlers. We have changed his diet, sought professional help, tried to chart the things that trigger him the most.
Many days, it seems like being awake is the only trigger he needs for spectacular, screaming, violent tantrums. ALL. DAY. LONG.
And friends? I am exhausted. When you pile on sleep deprivation from an infant and the wonderful, but tiring world of a nine year old who has a thriving social life and extracurricular interests, there is just not enough of me. With a toddler who can wear out both of his parents within an hour of waking, it seems hard to have hope that we can ever be sane again.
We had two golden months around here in August and September. Two months where we could see the good. Two months where he was happy a lot of the day, where the level of chaos and tantrums was normal for a challenging two year old. Two months where my infant slept through the night. Two months where we thought, "Hey, maybe we can do this family of five thing and more than survive it."
We don't know where it came from or where it went.
And now, 3 months later, my husband is about to leave for several weeks of travel. I have plenty of friends in the military who have endured far longer stretches without a spouse. I am not trying to pretend that my situation is dire or that many parents haven't had to endure this for years at a time. I am just trying to be real.
And if I am real? I am scared. Scared that I won't be able to do it. That my toddler will break me.
But more than the fear, I am so tired of being tired. So tired of being hopeless, exhausted, sad, angry, fearful and helpless. Tired of just surviving. Tired of dreading the day's beginning. Tired of looking at the clock every 2 minutes in the hope that is is miraculously closer to 5 pm when my husband arrives home and can take charge of him.
I have no choice in the coming weeks. I will do it. He needs to travel and be his spectacular self and dazzle in his interviews.
I will be home alone, I will be mom, 24 hours a day. And the reality is, that I am not mom enough. I never was and never can be. And, oh, I so want to be.
So, because I am so tired of feeling defeated, from today until he leaves, I am going to make every effort to write one blog post daily. Just one post focusing on something that will help me look at these coming weeks as an opportunity to dig into the deepest wells of grace, hope and forgiveness that I can possibly dig into. Maybe I'll make a list of who, physically, can come take over if I am about to lose it. Maybe I'll have to lean into God's perspective of my boy to see past my anger and fatigue.
Bottom line, I don't know what will come out of this. But I am challenging myself today to find elusive hope. And because, historically, I have been able to find hope in hidden places when I've taken the risk to vulnerably write, then, gosh darn-it, I am going to find the time to write. Every day, even if it isn't pretty or polished. Even if I have to type through tears or with someone screaming in the background, I. WILL. WRITE.
Because, friends, something has to change. If there is one thing I can cling to right now, it is that God is always about redemption, about transforming things from ashes to beauty, bringing dead things to life.
And HE is God enough.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Books, Books and More Books
I LOVE books. I really do. I love reading alone, to my kids, listening to others read. I love the story, the different worlds, the collision of lives, the way you can lose yourself in a book and come out a different person.
As we continue to expand our library and make it more multicultural, I love to find new lists of books. And because I love reading so much, I love when OTHER people love reading. So, naturally, I wanted to share the lists I have found, with much thanks to the online transracial adoption group to which I belong.
Enjoy! And if you have any go-to lists of your own, would you mind posting them in the comments so I can expand my own lists? Thanks!
Multicultural Children's Book Lists
Chinese-American:
http://www.momsrising.org/blog/top-10-chinese-american-childrens-books-ages-2-14
Korea/Korean American:
http://www.amazon.com/lm/RNC8U85ZBMLX3
Latino-American:
http://www.pragmaticmom.com/2010/09/top-10-best-latino-american-childrens-books-ages-2-16/
Native American:
http://www.amazon.com/lm/31LIOHZ6LVOAU
Black:
http://www.niamagazine.com/childrens-books-with-black-characters/
http://www.buzzfeed.com/mallorymcinnis/black-history-picture-books#.gb45qAVGw
http://www.homegirlblog.com/2014/03/childrens-books-featuring-black-kids.html
http://www.binoandfino.com/blog/2015/8/11/a-list-of-childrens-books-that-celebrate-black-boys
Young Adult:
http://www.bustle.com/articles/18681-5-amazing-young-adult-novels-starring-characters-of-color
Multicultural:
http://abooklongenough.com/blog/2015-multicultural-award-winners-in-kids-books-african-american-latino-asian-american-jewish-international-jewish-titles
https://www.goodreads.com/list/show/82680.Multicultural_Christmas_Picture_Books
http://www.tfcbooks.org/about-us
https://www.commonsensemedia.org/lists/books-with-characters-of-color
Books on Specific Countries/Regions
Africa:
http://delightfulchildrensbooks.com/2011/03/31/africa/
Ethiopia:
https://www.goodreads.com/shelf/show/kids-ethiopia
https://www.goodreads.com/list/user_vote/993475
Guatemala:
http://www.amazon.com/Books-for-Guatemalan-Children/lm/T95UM1JGWV4F
Haiti: http://libwww.library.phila.gov/faq/viewsummaryAsk.cfmcid=494&pid=228&category=Haiti&FAQCategory=103
India:
http://www.thealternative.in/lifestyle/50-indian-books-every-parent-must-read-to-their-child/
Books on the Civil Rights Movement/Social Justice
http://www.pragmaticmom.com/2012/01/top-10-childrens-fbooks-civil-rights-movement/
http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2010/01/15-excellent-civil-rights-books.html/
http://www.amightygirl.com/books/social-issues/prejudice-discrimination?cat=71
http://www.amightygirl.com/mighty-girl-picks/civil-rights-history
Books on Talking to Kids about Race/Racism
http://www.rageagainsttheminivan.com/2013/01/resources-for-talking-to-kids-about.html
http://www.buzzfeed.com/calamityamberlacoloradaj/25-contemporary-picture-books-to-help-parents-tea-vl4p
As we continue to expand our library and make it more multicultural, I love to find new lists of books. And because I love reading so much, I love when OTHER people love reading. So, naturally, I wanted to share the lists I have found, with much thanks to the online transracial adoption group to which I belong.
Enjoy! And if you have any go-to lists of your own, would you mind posting them in the comments so I can expand my own lists? Thanks!
Multicultural Children's Book Lists
Chinese-American:
http://www.momsrising.org/blog/top-10-chinese-american-childrens-books-ages-2-14
Korea/Korean American:
http://www.amazon.com/lm/RNC8U85ZBMLX3
Latino-American:
http://www.pragmaticmom.com/2010/09/top-10-best-latino-american-childrens-books-ages-2-16/
Native American:
http://www.amazon.com/lm/31LIOHZ6LVOAU
Black:
http://www.niamagazine.com/childrens-books-with-black-characters/
http://www.buzzfeed.com/mallorymcinnis/black-history-picture-books#.gb45qAVGw
http://www.homegirlblog.com/2014/03/childrens-books-featuring-black-kids.html
http://www.binoandfino.com/blog/2015/8/11/a-list-of-childrens-books-that-celebrate-black-boys
Young Adult:
http://www.bustle.com/articles/18681-5-amazing-young-adult-novels-starring-characters-of-color
Multicultural:
http://abooklongenough.com/blog/2015-multicultural-award-winners-in-kids-books-african-american-latino-asian-american-jewish-international-jewish-titles
https://www.goodreads.com/list/show/82680.Multicultural_Christmas_Picture_Books
http://www.tfcbooks.org/about-us
https://www.commonsensemedia.org/lists/books-with-characters-of-color
Books on Specific Countries/Regions
Africa:
http://delightfulchildrensbooks.com/2011/03/31/africa/
Ethiopia:
https://www.goodreads.com/shelf/show/kids-ethiopia
https://www.goodreads.com/list/user_vote/993475
http://www.amazon.com/Books-for-Guatemalan-Children/lm/T95UM1JGWV4F
Haiti: http://libwww.library.phila.gov/faq/viewsummaryAsk.cfmcid=494&pid=228&category=Haiti&FAQCategory=103
India:
http://www.thealternative.in/lifestyle/50-indian-books-every-parent-must-read-to-their-child/
Books on the Civil Rights Movement/Social Justice
http://www.pragmaticmom.com/2012/01/top-10-childrens-fbooks-civil-rights-movement/
http://www.thechildrensbookreview.com/weblog/2010/01/15-excellent-civil-rights-books.html/
http://www.amightygirl.com/books/social-issues/prejudice-discrimination?cat=71
http://www.amightygirl.com/mighty-girl-picks/civil-rights-history
Books on Talking to Kids about Race/Racism
http://www.rageagainsttheminivan.com/2013/01/resources-for-talking-to-kids-about.html
http://www.buzzfeed.com/calamityamberlacoloradaj/25-contemporary-picture-books-to-help-parents-tea-vl4p
Friday, December 11, 2015
To Do: Simplify
Two years ago, as we were closing out 2013, I signed up to do a simplifying challenge. To get rid of 2014 items in my house during that upcoming year that we didn't need or weren't actually using. Just stuff, you know.
Then my middle child came home. And as most people with small children know, infancy is NOT the time to get rid of stuff. You are inundated with gifts, diapers, wipes, new furniture, carseats, toys...well, you get it. We were in intake mode, not purge mode.
But as our (likely) move approaches and I look at the reality of trying to sell a house with 3 boys and their accompanying paraphernalia underfoot, I am more than daunted. I can barely get dinner on the table- how in the world will this place ever look presentable? Is that poop on the floor? What?!!!
Because I am someone who loves a challenge, though, I decided that rather than wonder how I will do it when the time comes, I'm going to be proactive. I am laying down a challenge for myself and anyone who wants to join and thrives on a little accountability.
Here it is:
Starting now through January 11, I am going to do at least one of the following every day (and yes, during the holiday season when new things are coming into the house):
Then my middle child came home. And as most people with small children know, infancy is NOT the time to get rid of stuff. You are inundated with gifts, diapers, wipes, new furniture, carseats, toys...well, you get it. We were in intake mode, not purge mode.
But as our (likely) move approaches and I look at the reality of trying to sell a house with 3 boys and their accompanying paraphernalia underfoot, I am more than daunted. I can barely get dinner on the table- how in the world will this place ever look presentable? Is that poop on the floor? What?!!!
Because I am someone who loves a challenge, though, I decided that rather than wonder how I will do it when the time comes, I'm going to be proactive. I am laying down a challenge for myself and anyone who wants to join and thrives on a little accountability.
Here it is:
Starting now through January 11, I am going to do at least one of the following every day (and yes, during the holiday season when new things are coming into the house):
- Throw away a bag of unused or trashed items.
- (You know what I mean, those matchbox cars with missing wheels, socks with holes in them or, um...expired products in the pantry...)
- Pack a bag to donate to someone.
- Do you know someone who could use some clothes that you would otherwise let sit in your closet? Or have an extra coat for your kid because someone passed it along to you? Pack up some of that "extra" stuff you own and give it to someone who can actually use it.
- Pack a box for storage.
- Since we are likely moving this summer, I am already thinking about which things I don't need to use in the next 6 months and boxing them up. Books that Nate has outgrown and Jayce won't need yet. Toys that no one is using but will eventually. Fancy kitchen dishes because, let's be honest, we ain't having many dinner parties at this stage of life.
- Work on a repurpose.
- I had a bookcase sitting downstairs holding movies but I also had somewhere else I could move those movies. So I moved the bookcase upstairs into our hall closet to create shoe storage rather than buying something new we didn't actually need. What do you own that gathers dust but could be used for a new, helpful purpose right now? Does it need a fresh coat of paint? A new location?
So, that's it. Every day, 15 minutes, one thing done.
And yes, there's grace. I know there will be days with illnesses or no nap overlaps or social events that prevent this from happening. But for me, having a tangible goal every day is very life-giving.
So, anyone in?
Comment and let me know if you want to join me!
Friday, December 4, 2015
All the Change
In 2009, we moved from Virginia to NC. I went on sabbatical and Reed started grad school.
In 2010, I started a new job.
In 2011, I started a different new job.
In 2012, Reed applied for his post-doc and we began to dream, again, of what could be next.
In 2013, we moved to Wisconsin and I quit my job and started taking classes at UW. Neither of us had ever lived further than 2 hours from the beach.
In 2014, Nate came home. I stopped taking classes.
In 2015, Jayce came home. And we started thinking again of what and where is next for us.
So.
There has been a LOT of change in our lives the last 6 years. A LOT.
This morning I was at the gym, my baby sleeping at home while my toddler enjoyed himself at the Child Watch. A song I hadn't heard in awhile came on my ipod and it was one of those moments where life comes to a screeching halt and you see something.
I saw the changes we've been through. And I saw the coming year and how much more change was in store. And for one moment, I just wanted to weep. To stop. To stand still and just BE for a whole year.
But that's not going to happen. Things are going to change. AGAIN.
And I listened to that song and it was as if God himself was saying, "Um, hi? Remember me? I know it's hard for you to get up early and hear my voice these days, but I never went anywhere. And I will be in the changes to come. I always am. I hold your world in my hands. Trust me."
And as I breathed slowly in and out (because that's what you do when you are doing an inclined leg press), I tried to breathe in some calm. Breathe in some trust. Breathe out the uncertainty. Breathe out the fear of not knowing where we will live a year from now, the fear of starting over. Again.
I have a feeling this is going to be my SONG this year. You know. The one you have to listen to every day, the one that alternately makes you sob or laugh or just breathe, again, because you have, again, forgotten to do it.
All the change.
It'll be just fine. If we are in California, Canada or Florida, my world is in His hands. There will be new friends, good people.
Breathe in, breathe out.
And, you know, ask God if 2016 could please be the last year with a big change for a long time.
In 2010, I started a new job.
In 2011, I started a different new job.
In 2012, Reed applied for his post-doc and we began to dream, again, of what could be next.
In 2013, we moved to Wisconsin and I quit my job and started taking classes at UW. Neither of us had ever lived further than 2 hours from the beach.
In 2014, Nate came home. I stopped taking classes.
In 2015, Jayce came home. And we started thinking again of what and where is next for us.
So.
There has been a LOT of change in our lives the last 6 years. A LOT.
This morning I was at the gym, my baby sleeping at home while my toddler enjoyed himself at the Child Watch. A song I hadn't heard in awhile came on my ipod and it was one of those moments where life comes to a screeching halt and you see something.
I saw the changes we've been through. And I saw the coming year and how much more change was in store. And for one moment, I just wanted to weep. To stop. To stand still and just BE for a whole year.
But that's not going to happen. Things are going to change. AGAIN.
And I listened to that song and it was as if God himself was saying, "Um, hi? Remember me? I know it's hard for you to get up early and hear my voice these days, but I never went anywhere. And I will be in the changes to come. I always am. I hold your world in my hands. Trust me."
And as I breathed slowly in and out (because that's what you do when you are doing an inclined leg press), I tried to breathe in some calm. Breathe in some trust. Breathe out the uncertainty. Breathe out the fear of not knowing where we will live a year from now, the fear of starting over. Again.
I have a feeling this is going to be my SONG this year. You know. The one you have to listen to every day, the one that alternately makes you sob or laugh or just breathe, again, because you have, again, forgotten to do it.
All the change.
It'll be just fine. If we are in California, Canada or Florida, my world is in His hands. There will be new friends, good people.
Breathe in, breathe out.
And, you know, ask God if 2016 could please be the last year with a big change for a long time.
Thursday, December 3, 2015
The Nine Words I'll Never Say
Last week I found myself leaving our YMCA in the midst of dramatic spectacle. My 2 year old was upside down (I was holding him by his legs because he is so strong that once he decides he is IN IT, I cannot actually hold him by his body any longer.) He was mad because..well, actually I don't know. It came on suddenly and inexplicably and no amount of logic or talking was going to break it. We just needed to get the heck out.
So as I tried to stay calm (and thanked God that I had no other children along on this outing because HOW??), we walked through the foyer of the Y, my son suspended in midair, flailing about like a landed fish. People stopped talking, they stared.
One woman smiled and said "I remember those days!"
And I cringed...because I wondered if she was going to say it.
The words that ALWAYS make me feel worse no matter what kind of day we are having.
You know them. Maybe you've said them. Or been the recipient.
"Treasure these moments. They grow up way too fast."
Right.
Thankfully, in this instance, she didn't say it. I let out the breath I was holding, praised God for bicep curls that enable me to carry my 40 pounder with one arm and moved carefully out the door to the car.
So here's the thing.
I get that statement a lot. Sometimes verbally, sometimes people post articles telling me not to miss even one beautiful moment(which I click on for some inexplicable reason), sometimes I just see it in people's eyes.
And do you want to know my honest reaction?
Guilt.
Yep, guilt. Now, admittedly, I dabble in guilt more than the average person. It's my constant companion, the area of my life that I have to continually crawl back to God with and ask him to remove. It's not His fault I feel guilty. It's all my own. Self-forgiveness is a huge challenge for me.
But when someone looks into my life and tells me to treasure each moment, that they will pass too quickly, all I feel is terrible. Like I can never possibly do a good enough job because on top of feeding them, getting them on good schedules, changing them, wrestling them, loving them, enduring the freakouts and public humiliations, I am somehow supposed to find this magical all the time and remember every moment or I will regret it later.
That is a LOT of pressure.
And we almost never know the story of the person to whom we offer these trite phrases.
What if this was said to a woman suffering from post-partum depression? Or post-adoption blues? The parent who has a child with severe needs who is just beyond exhausted and doesn't know how he or she will do it again tomorrow? The father who cannot connect with his son or daughter and blames himself for somehow not being a good enough dad? The mom who battled her two-year-old from 7 am to 7 pm yesterday and had just enough energy to physically put herself to bed just after?
Yes, some day I will probably look back and miss some elements of when they were tiny. Heck, some days I manage to treasure it in the now, I really do. When we are having a good day and the boys are reading to the baby or the older ones are tickle-wrestling and the giggles are abundant. Even when some of the moments are hard but I can see the progress we're making, I can find moments to pause, to reflect, to be thankful, to see the magic in childhood.
But on the days where I am just covered in spit up, when I've been kicked in the head trying to get someone in the car, wrestled two squirming humans through 12 diaper changes, forgotten what it feels like just to be a clean, reasonable woman...on those days, we just do life. Without magic or treasure.
Maybe the women who say this (and I have NEVER had a man say it) to me really felt in their element during the young years or maybe they are in the midst of it now and by speaking it aloud they are trying to remind themselves. But I've said it before and I'll say it again- we all have different gifts. I feel like I'm a pretty darn good mama some days, especially to my 9 year old. I am willing to play crazy games, chase him around the yard, shoot goals on him so he can practice soccer, paint cardboard to help him make a lego city, curl up for an hour reading Harry Potter together. I feel good at it.
But the younger years? Every day I wake up and have to ask God for deep grace and patience because the younger years don't come naturally to me. I'm not a "baby" person. I don't look at them and think "Oh, don't grow up!" I look at them and think "hmmm..if you could tell me rationally and eloquently using your words, we wouldn't be having this miscommunication." Or, rather, I would think that if my brain were capable of such verbiage in the midst of someone kicking me in the head.
All this to say, you can go on saying those nine words to people if you really want to. I, however, will not. I don't know their story, I don't know their gifts.
What I will say is this:
"I see you. You might be great at this right now or it might not be your strength. But you're trying and that's what matters. God's got the rest."
So as I tried to stay calm (and thanked God that I had no other children along on this outing because HOW??), we walked through the foyer of the Y, my son suspended in midair, flailing about like a landed fish. People stopped talking, they stared.
One woman smiled and said "I remember those days!"
And I cringed...because I wondered if she was going to say it.
The words that ALWAYS make me feel worse no matter what kind of day we are having.
You know them. Maybe you've said them. Or been the recipient.
"Treasure these moments. They grow up way too fast."
Right.
Thankfully, in this instance, she didn't say it. I let out the breath I was holding, praised God for bicep curls that enable me to carry my 40 pounder with one arm and moved carefully out the door to the car.
So here's the thing.
I get that statement a lot. Sometimes verbally, sometimes people post articles telling me not to miss even one beautiful moment(which I click on for some inexplicable reason), sometimes I just see it in people's eyes.
And do you want to know my honest reaction?
Guilt.
Yep, guilt. Now, admittedly, I dabble in guilt more than the average person. It's my constant companion, the area of my life that I have to continually crawl back to God with and ask him to remove. It's not His fault I feel guilty. It's all my own. Self-forgiveness is a huge challenge for me.
But when someone looks into my life and tells me to treasure each moment, that they will pass too quickly, all I feel is terrible. Like I can never possibly do a good enough job because on top of feeding them, getting them on good schedules, changing them, wrestling them, loving them, enduring the freakouts and public humiliations, I am somehow supposed to find this magical all the time and remember every moment or I will regret it later.
That is a LOT of pressure.
And we almost never know the story of the person to whom we offer these trite phrases.
What if this was said to a woman suffering from post-partum depression? Or post-adoption blues? The parent who has a child with severe needs who is just beyond exhausted and doesn't know how he or she will do it again tomorrow? The father who cannot connect with his son or daughter and blames himself for somehow not being a good enough dad? The mom who battled her two-year-old from 7 am to 7 pm yesterday and had just enough energy to physically put herself to bed just after?
Yes, some day I will probably look back and miss some elements of when they were tiny. Heck, some days I manage to treasure it in the now, I really do. When we are having a good day and the boys are reading to the baby or the older ones are tickle-wrestling and the giggles are abundant. Even when some of the moments are hard but I can see the progress we're making, I can find moments to pause, to reflect, to be thankful, to see the magic in childhood.
But on the days where I am just covered in spit up, when I've been kicked in the head trying to get someone in the car, wrestled two squirming humans through 12 diaper changes, forgotten what it feels like just to be a clean, reasonable woman...on those days, we just do life. Without magic or treasure.
Maybe the women who say this (and I have NEVER had a man say it) to me really felt in their element during the young years or maybe they are in the midst of it now and by speaking it aloud they are trying to remind themselves. But I've said it before and I'll say it again- we all have different gifts. I feel like I'm a pretty darn good mama some days, especially to my 9 year old. I am willing to play crazy games, chase him around the yard, shoot goals on him so he can practice soccer, paint cardboard to help him make a lego city, curl up for an hour reading Harry Potter together. I feel good at it.
But the younger years? Every day I wake up and have to ask God for deep grace and patience because the younger years don't come naturally to me. I'm not a "baby" person. I don't look at them and think "Oh, don't grow up!" I look at them and think "hmmm..if you could tell me rationally and eloquently using your words, we wouldn't be having this miscommunication." Or, rather, I would think that if my brain were capable of such verbiage in the midst of someone kicking me in the head.
All this to say, you can go on saying those nine words to people if you really want to. I, however, will not. I don't know their story, I don't know their gifts.
What I will say is this:
"I see you. You might be great at this right now or it might not be your strength. But you're trying and that's what matters. God's got the rest."
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