Enough

I'm a mom. 5 years and some odd months ago when I obtained said appellation, I was also awarded this big heavy medallion that comes with the territory. Intricately etched deep within this glorious pin that was stabbed into my heart there's a huge word. It starts with a W, ends with a Y, and in between there's a vowel, two consonants and a long line of anxiety.

Worry!

And like probably all females of my maternal status, my biggest worry is always that I'm not enough for these sweet rambunctious things who are in my charge.

I'm not present enough, I don't always know how to be gentle enough, I'm not listening enough, I'm not organized enough, I'm not disciplined enough, I don't model enough kindness and compassion, I never have enough time to be everything that they need me to be... Also I don't know enough about airplanes or slaying evil with butter knives to know how to answer all of their detailed questions about those hot topics.  

But then I look out the window and I see them trying to rescue a worm who has presumably lost his way and is suffering in the cold Spring rain. To (now this is totally a wild guess here) the rest of us, it is just a worm. Just. Like you don't get any more decumbent than a worm. Who really even notices worms, much less cares if that spindly little pathetic slimy one drowning in the drive way makes it back to his home in the cold dark world beneath the grass before the frost sets in again?

As I watch them trying to tenderly guide this small uncomprehending, bane-of-the-earth creature back to safety I realize that they understand what it means to care for and respect even the "least of these". Somehow, somewhere along the line, we are getting something right. In spite of my failings, I see them changing their world with compassion, one worm at a time.

I am enough. 

That reality alone is empowering, and perhaps I could learn how to be as gentle with myself as they are to the little lost worm that nobody cares about.

How to Mom Like a Pro

• Make the top of the dresser a chalk board by painting it with black chalk board paint. 
• Buy easel on clearance for $9
• Keep washable everything well stocked (within reason, of course)
• Provide free access to all of the washable stock (within reason, of course)
• Show child how to use and create with all things washable
• Also show child how to wash the washable
• Let them paint in their pajamas
• Never admit that it was just an impromptu pajama day
• Call it pajama day as if it were a special occasion
• Pretend like pajama days are a rare event
• Wash laundry while you're bluffing about the pajamas

Experience hours and hours of fascinated creativity and no screen time while you do laundry.

Bubbles, Bubbles, My Bubbles!

It was the first blissfully warm day of the year. For being February, it was literal perfection. I believe it even touched 60 on the thermometer before quickly retreating back into Winter for a reprieve of the balminess of Spring. It was still February after all.

Naturally, a pair of strawberry blonde brothers spent the afternoon exploring this new muddy habitat that was emerging from beneath all of the stale white cold sloppy stuff. One of them even took a snow shovel to the yard in hopes of discarding what was left of this Old Man Winter just a little bit sooner.

Before long, little brother emerged from the garage with a highly coveted token of last Summer's leftover fun. Bubbles. I watched the longing glance of envy from the older one. He disappeared into the garage in search of another bottle for himself but to no avail. They were all empty.

Now, I have been known to resist the cultural standard of "sharing" and "taking turns" that we are to impose upon our children. It is my hope to instill a sense of ownership along with proper respect for one another. So without intervening, I just sat back and waited to see what would happen. 

Of course Colton was less than eager to give up his beloved treasure, and Jimmy knew it was a lost cause before he even thought to beg and plead. Instead he disappeared into the house for a few moments. When he returned he had his own bubble bottle, filled with a solution he created himself using dish soap and (not quite enough, but that's between you and me) water. He had found a tiny whisk in the kitchen and began to blow the biggest coolest bubbles you ever saw. Admiration seeped from the little brother (and the mother, to be sure!), and together those mud splattered brothers blew bubbles to their hearts' content.  

Creative. Problem solver. Team player. That's my boy. 

This Week's Adventure: Femur Fracture

It's been quiet on the blog front this week because there's been a lot of adventure on the home front. And not the fun kind of adventure, even if it did all begin with a tent.

In a freak accident, our Colton spiral fractured his femur on Monday morning when he tripped over a tent doorway, landing us in Rochester where he went under anesthesia and had his bone re-set in a cumbersome hip spica cast. It's been a long week, full of a wide range of emotions, not a whole lot of sleep, plenty of coffee (for mom and dad), and a lot of pain for our poor little guy. We are learning the challenges of finding creative ways to keep a two year-old comfortable, cool, entertained and relatively happy in spite of his terrible circumstances. Oh, and clean and dry. It's been interesting, but he's such a tough little guy and all the love and support of our friends and family has made this so much more bearable.

I'll share more as time allows. Thank you for the prayers.

Brotherly Love in Action

It was a moment of sheer devastation for Jimmy. Not only had he recently sustained an injury of childhood clumsiness, but he had just received the news that the sun was going down therefore bath time, story time, and bed time was upon what was previously a completely delightful Summer evening.

Colton was admittedly a little stunned at the turn of events himself, in the midst of all that fun play in that dirt he discovered in the driveway, however baths are on his extremely long list of very favorite things so he was slightly less disappointed.

 But with the deepest empathy for his brother's affliction, he consoled him with the affection of loyal brotherhood.

And then Colton remembered the most potent of medicines, the panacea for all boyhood traumas: the kiss gun.

Load.

Ready.

Aim...

...Fire!

And like magic, crisis averted. Healing has come.

Jimmy Painting

I love watching my kids create and experiment with the world around them. I grabbed a couple shots of 4 year-old Jimmy playing with paint in the wide open fresh air. I gave him the supplies and watched him from a distance. He even discovered all on his own that blue and yellow makes green, and that was so cool to him. Kids are amazingly creative when you give them the right tools. 

How Photography Can Make You a Better Mom

I like to think about how Mary, the mother of Jesus, "Treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart." (Luke 2:19) I don't know what she did to "treasure up" (Journal? Draw? Paint? Simply mentally remember?) all those amazing events that were happening in the first years of the life of her wonderful Child, but sometimes when I see how quickly my boys are determined to grow and change I feel that need to be able to keep this moment, an ache to be able to keep some of these things myself to treasure up in my heart. Thanks to technology the one way I know I can do it is with my camera. And you can too.

Photography is one of my favorite mom tools. It keeps me focused, no pun intended, on my kids and who they are. I can't tell you how many times I have run across a random shot I took and how it brought me right back to that day, and I got to live a moment in yesterday's shoes because I had a photo of it.

So here's what I want you to do today: Get your camera out. I don't care if you have the top of the line professional model or just a crappy pixelized phone camera, or maybe something nifty right in between. Whatever you have, get it out and use it to embrace the beautiful mess motherhood is.

Do it. Because Today is now, tomorrow it will be gone. Live today, cherish today, capture today, remember today. Take a moment and pull out the camera to snap a picture of what your kids are doing, of the mess they left, of the toys they love, of the laundry they make, of the way they like their favorite snack, of their dirty feet, of their smudged noses, what makes them laugh, and even what makes them cry, of the view outside the hand-print-smudged window. Anything, everything! Let them live, and notice them!

If you're not really a crazy camera lady, you don't have to take a hundred pictures, you don't even have to take five. Just take one. Right now. One image that sums up your life in this moment. And do it every day. One shot, three shots, dozens of shots... whatever catches your eye should be caught on camera.  Trust me, when you start thinking in terms of creating images, suddenly those normal mundane moments you don't normally stop to savor become alive! You can't keep your kids little, but you can freeze their little moments in time.

An Open Letter to Moms

Dear Moms,

This is for you, because it's Mother's Day and maybe you get flowers and you will get hugs and you will be told you are loved. You also get up early and dress the kids and comb their hair and make the beds (maybe) and wish the house could clean itself and play mediator over who gets that one (out of like two hundred-thirteen thousand, nine hundred eighty-two) little set of hotwheels, and you will make sure lunch plans are underway (or fix it yourself, which wouldn't be unusual even if it is supposed to be your holiday).

Maybe you had a chance to step in the shower. The kids pound on the door every thirty eight seconds and tell you they really need crackers and raisins and drinks and big brother stole their car. And you come out to find the toddler got into the fridge and the big brother raided the game cabinet, the contents of all of the above being strewn... well, everywhere. And your husband wanted to leave in thirty minutes.

The littlest is teething and irritable and pitching fits and somehow that one little person can make the whole universe shatter. Right on top of your head. Which is easy enough to recover from, providing you get twenty-three seconds to catch your breath and pull yourself together. But who are we kidding? Mothers aren't always afforded the leisure of twenty-three spare demand-free seconds. So here you are, snapping at the people you love the most because you weren't born an octopus with enough limbs capable of getting the screaming child comforted, the older child more raisins, clean up the coffee you just spilled and recover from stepping on that lego all in one fluid motion, and you really just can't have that conversation about child training right now, honey.

You will worry, like you do every day, that maybe you're spending too much time at work, or on trying to keep the house relatively livable, or on that laundry--darn that laundry! Or finishing up that project that takes twenty seven thousand times longer simply because there are kids to keep alive. Therefore you are not spending enough time with the children. These cute little heathens you call your own are surely neglected and now they might grow up to be bank robbers.

So you remind yourself to speak gently, to give hugs, to tickle, to spend time, to make them feel loved. You pray for patience.

People close to you might like to point out how much more clingy and weepy your children are with you and only you... and they are never that way for them. Are you possibly permitting them to manipulate you?!?! You wish they could understand how that very uniquely created and precious child lived under your heart. From even before his very first heartbeat you were the sole nurturing source of nourishment. You filled each and every little need he had from moment one. He has been, by the very design of creation, conditioned to believe that you literally are his everything! Why do you think your kisses are so potent? Because you are his mom, and you are amazing that way.

Like every day, you are doing your darndest. You constantly try to convey to your children that they are loved, you work hard to teach your children about life, and keep them at least a little bit civilized. And maybe you were lucky enough to marry the best daddy in the universe yet there's really nothing that eases the load of responsibility you carry heavily on your heart. God gave you these button-nosed little individuals and He sent them to you with this deep undying maternal instinct that doesn't always satisfy status quo. In the public eye you will be scrutinized, criticized, offered unsolicited advice, and quite frankly you feel judged. Constantly. You don't know what people say behind your back and you're okay with that. But since you're following your gut and the unique individual needs of your children, your friends, your family, the strangers in your path, they all have opinions on how you're doing it wrong.

But let's face it, Moms, you are amazing. Your job is relatively thank-less. You fill a thousand roles just by being Mom. Every day you fall down, but you pick yourself back up, because you are courageous (and because it dawned on you that throwing in the towel just creates more laundry). You're strong, you're brave, you're beautiful. You're mom. To the world maybe you're just another person, but to the little persons in your life you are everything. And that is as it should be. You are mom. You are loved more than you know. You are doing a great job.

So take a moment and breathe in this amazing life you have. And by breathe in, I mean being strangled by smudge-nosed little monster hugs. And remember you are so blessed. No matter what, the hearts in your keeping are the best gifts you could possibly possess.

I want every mom who reads this to know that you've got this. Maybe your life doesn't feel as photogenic as pinterest, and maybe your children don't behave the way your friends' children do, and maybe you're just not feeling it today. That's okay. Give yourself the same grace and patience you strive so hard to give your children. Be thankful for today. Know this, you are doing a great job.

Happy Mother's Day!

With Love,
A Fellow Mom

Flowery Sunshine

When kids show you life through their eyes, suddenly the weeds are indeed lovely flowers. And when there's so much in the world going wrong, somehow the detailed little dandelion is like a token of hope and peace. That there is good and perfection still left. That if a Creator can take the time to fashion this flowery sunshine nobody appreciates, surely He's got a hand in this beautiful mess we call our lives.

{like father, like sons}

How to Handle the Tantrums

I typically hesitate to speak of parenting techniques much, considering I'm still figuring this whole mom thing out, and I only have four years of experience under my belt. I'm not sure what exactly qualifies one to become an expert in the raising of children, since the longer I do this with the two I have, the more I realize I have so much to learn. However, when I discover something that works and makes sense, I want to share it with my fellow-mom friends because we're all kind of in this thing together, this imperfect parenting thing in an imperfect world with our beautiful imperfect children... 
....................................................

I have this child. We call him Colton... Mostly because that's actually his name. He's a spirited one, that boy. Like a young colt, in fact. Energetic, vivacious, a strong-willed mind of his own. He's two years old now, but he's always been what one might label "challenging". He's got a big personality with a lot of determination that can tend to boil over into a big rebellious and stubborn mess. At least, those are the negative terms I come up with for him when I'm completely exasperated by his behavior.

Sometimes he goes through these phases where he screams a lot. He only communicates with tantrums. The kind that grate on your eardrums... and nerves. Constantly. I. Can. Not. Tolerate. Screaming.

So then my lovely friend, Mom Guilt, moves in because I just can't stand to be anywhere near the child.

But I have learned to realize when there's a disconnect between he and I. It is imperative to take everything that's on my life's plate and set it aside, because this boy needs me. 
His most unlovable behavior is a plea for love, attention, validation, assurance, and security. 
I'm his mom, I am the only person who can provide that for him.

So I get down on his short little level and I look directly into his eyes. I use words, calmly, and encourage him to do the same. I smile reassuringly. I give hugs, a lot of them. I ask him what is wrong, and I show sympathy for his many afflictions whether real or imagined. I scoop him up and bring him to the kitchen with me; I give him a few random ingredients along with a bowl and a spoon and let him think he's helping me as he's doing his thing and I'm doing mine, right beside him.

All of a sudden our world is peaceful again. He's smiling and calm. He's trying so very hard to use words and construct sentences because he really wants me to know what he thinks. And I listen. He feels useful and important. He's safe. He realizes that I'm not going to abandon him and leave him feeling lost in this big busy world that's towering over him. And as I make it a habit throughout my day to take time for him, the tantrums become nonexistent and his communication skills hit a new high.

Little ones don't have behavioral problems as much as we like to think, they have small-human problems. They very easily succumb to panic, fear and insecurity because their little hearts are so delicate. They can only grasp a very minimal reality of life and what is going on around them. Meanwhile their body and cognitive development is growing and changing at such a rapid rate. Pain confuses them, yet they experience it frequently as they clumsily discover the laws of gravity. They often have to suffer through brand new teeth slicing through swollen and painful gums, and it makes no sense to them. But what really takes the cake is there's this huge communication barrier between them and their mommy and daddy--the very people who are their complete life and love and security. Their desires, needs, pain and emotions all frustrate them, and they don't know how to calmly communicate them. It's no wonder they cry and scream and behave in all sorts of ugly manners.

Some of the experts like to tell young moms like me to train my babies to sleep, to teach them what "no" means, to get them on schedules so they can learn about self-discipline and quiet play, and tantrums, oh my goodness, the tantrums! those are bad, and if your child should throw one you should be embarrassed and ashamed of yourself. But I say no. How about we show them love and comfort. Let them experience the gift of selfless love so as they mature they are better equipped to give it. How about we nurture those big fiery spirits because God knows we need more gigantic hearts with strong wills to change the world. How about we be that safe space that shows love and teaches boundaries in a way they can understand. And when they scream and express frustration? How about we show them that it's okay... they're safe, and loved.

Kids aren't supposed to be convenient, they are supposed to be loved and nurtured and cherished. A child should never be given the opportunity to doubt that.

Your right hand has held me up,
Your gentleness has made me great.Psalm 18:35

That Four-Letter F-Word

F . E . A . R 

Maybe my biggest regret as a mother has to do with fear. Thinking fearfully ahead too much to enjoy the beauty of life growing and flourishing right here. Right now. Today.

Moms have a lot to worry about.

During pregnancy we fear loss, we fear the inevitable and excruciating pain in our near future, we fear the inability to make it through the upcoming sleepless nights, we imagine everything that might possibly go wrong. Sometimes we even fear our babies won't have all their fingers and toes.

Then the incredible miracles of life that are so beyond our control unfold, whether or not we are ready for them, and suddenly that little bundle is snuggled peacefully against our chests. And now there's these big scary germs all over the place terrifying us, there's diseases that seem so rampant, there's SIDS... And is the baby gaining enough, and is he hitting his milestones, and how in the world can I possibly be adequate? Those nights our babies unexpectedly sleep peacefully still find us lying awake in bed thinking about all the big bad scary things that might possibly go so terribly wrong.

And then those little beings that were babies yesterday are suddenly walking and talking and dressing themselves and singing the alphabet song. Now we're pretty sure we're screwing them up. They mimic our bad attitudes. We're not everything Pinterest wants us to be. We're not making homemade play dough, we're not taking enough pictures, we have emotional breakdowns, we even lose our tempers. It's pretty ugly. When should he start school? What school should he go to? What curriculum should he use? What sports should he be involved in? I'm not spending enough time with him.With me as a mom, is he even going to be okay?

On top of normal mom worries, there's still ISIS, and ebola, and planes missing, and influenza, and drunk drivers, and school shootings, and financial frustrations, and cancer...

Whatever possessed me to possibly believe that this world was a perfectly good place to bring a kid into?

It's a heavy load to be lugging around on your heart.

Fear is your biggest enemy; even bigger than that thing that you're most afraid of. Fear is your deterrent to happiness, hope, health, even wealth. Fear paralyzes you from being who you were created to be. Fear robs you of the blessings you have in your life, right now... Today. When fear invades your heart, it also affects the people closest to you. Fear, worry, anxiety... it does nothing profitable for you. Jesus has it all under control, because He cares for you. The burden of tomorrow isn't yours to carry, and when the enemy of your soul tries to hand it to you, laugh in his face. Because he sucks, and he doesn't get to have that privilege in your life.

This isn't just for moms. Everybody has fears. What's yours? Can you give it up?

"So don’t be anxious about tomorrow. God will take care of your tomorrow too."
Matthew 6:34

The Two Hands Game

"Two hands, Mom!" He'll say, two fists clasped in front of him; his eyes twinkling irresistably.

It's three year-old for "Guess which hand!" Which is Mom for, "Stop what you're doing and play this game with me and savor this normal and happy moment of my childhood."

And so he gets all of my attention and squeals excitedly as I poke a fist. He giggles when I realize he has the prize hidden in his back pocket. Sometimes the treasure is a tiny toy accessory, sometimes it's a a shred of paper or maybe a candy wrapper. Sometimes, much to his amusement, it's nothing at all. But always it's a moment we share just the two of us, playing a silly little game.

And laughing. Because Jimmy oh! He's so funny!

I ran across a challenge today by a blogger called, Coffee with Two Hands. She explains that when you drink your coffee (or tea, or whatever your beverage is) with two hands, you aren't rushing along. You are holding your cup carefully; you are moving slow... You are savoring the aroma, the taste, the warmth... the moment.

It is not something that comes easily when you're a Mom. I'm likely the guilty-est of them all. I am such a multitasking ninja, I can hardly do one thing with two hands; certainly not my coffee! That's why I need that three year-old's "Two hands, Mom!" to stop me in my tracks.

I need to stop and spend more of these precious, happy moments in slowmo... Every now and then I need to ignore the duties of motherhood and cleanliness and business management, all of which scream relentlessly at me, and just drink my coffee... with my heart wide open, and both my hands clasped around my mug enjoying the giggles of my two favorite little boys...

So here's to drinking at least one mug of coffee a day with two hands. Who's with me?

...But should the three year-old come by with that cute, mirthful twinkle in his eye and mischievous little grin on his face, I might multitask a little bit in that moment and play the two-hands game.

The Greatest of Women's Rights

Of all the rights of women,

The greatest is to be a mother.

--LIN YUTANG

Thanks to my sister, Tabby, for capturing these special photos with my baby love bug. <3

Because Motherhood is Not "Unproductive"

I found this unpublished in my Drafts folder, written last Spring. The only time-sensitive matter is the age of that beautiful baby boy I was snuggling. Not much has changed since then. He's no longer 12 weeks, but 14 months. He still has those beautiful blue eyes and totally basks in any sort of adoring attention he can get from me. He still loves his momma snuggles. My house is still unpainted, unorganized and undecorated, and there are still no burlap bouquets on my table. I was glad to be reminded today to enjoy these fleeting moments of my children's lives. The house can stay the same, my little ones are growing up way too fast. 

Sitting on the couch with my cute, fat 12 week-old perched on my lap I felt a pang of guilt as I realized my one, sole accomplishment for the day was that I made granola. That's it. I didn't even have supper planned let alone started and it was a quarter-til six. Yet there I was, just sitting. Doing nothing. My mind torturing me with the meals I need to make, the laundry I need to fold, the closet I need to organize, the project I need to sew, the batch of photos I need to edit. Wishing my baby would be just as content to play on his mat as he is in my arms, I glanced down at my idle hands, clasping around ten of the cutest, yummiest little piggies you have ever seen.

And then I got mad.

There I was; soaking in a small moment of fleeting babyness, yet all I could think of was the running unending mental list of the things I wasn't doing. For what? I wondered. Why do I place the role of superamazingpower woman on myself even while God's greatest gift of a sweet baby is gracing my life--my very arms? What am I afraid of? That I will wake up one day and oh my gosh, there's nothing to clean?

It's a pinterest world out there, and it makes simple motherhood feel so... unproductive. I want light gray walls, and turquoise lamps, and white trim, and spray painted bottles, and chevron drapes, and lace patches on my jeans, and a striped romper for the baby, and a matching hoodie for the toddler, and thumb print pendant necklaces for the grandmas for mother's day,... All thrifted and homemade, of course. It's as if the axle of the earth will grind to a screeching halt if my dining room table does not have one of those bouquets of burlap blossoms.

The expectations to impress, the demands to achieve, it' all the flawed ideas that complicate motherhood. Pure, sweet motherhood--it's meeting the blue-eyed gaze of your infant as his little face melts into a sweet grin when he realizes that you're absolutely adoring him, it's taking the toddler outside to simply enjoy sunshine and receive gifts of dead flowers, a token of last year's summer, at his hand; it's wearing the same shirt and jeans you had on yesterday and feeling grateful that the husband doesn't mind leftovers for dinner again, it's about stopping every now and again and doing nothing but savor those little baby toes and the little butterball who loves you so much because you're holding him close.