Archive for the 'Parenting' Category
The Best Ten Minutes of My Weekend
The Imperfect Mamas Club-Guest Post
Mothering through the Panic Room Phase
We moved into a new neighborhood when our kids were nearly 3 and nearly 1. Our household was busy and we were encountering some significant parenting challenges…. but big picture, things still felt relatively manageable. Our new next-door neighbors, whose four children were 2 to 8 years old, were among the best parents my husband and I had ever met; we loved their kids and their parenting style. My neighbor friend described to me the intensity of having four kids under six. “My bedroom was like a ‘panic room,’” she told me. “When I felt like I was about to lose it, I’d go into my room, close the door, and scream into a pillow.”
At the time, I hadn’t hit that stage yet in my mothering. Now I have. There are definitely days when I feel like I might lose my mind at any moment. Days when I can’t believe it’s only 11 AM and I have eight more hours to get through till bed-times. Days when I desperately wish I could be somewhere – anywhere – else. Sometimes I find myself in a whole week of panic-room-style days.
Being an at-home mom of little kids is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Other significant undertakings- traveling weekly for a demanding consulting job; building our house from scratch; starting my own business; climbing Mt Kilimanjaro, even – pale in comparison. Recently I thought, “I wish someone had told me how hard this was going to be.” Then I realized they had… I just didn’t listen or believe. It’s not till you’re in it yourself, going through the day in and day out, that you fully get it.
Being needed all day long by multiple small humans is unbelievably wearing. And then, managing a household in which things constantly need replacing and replenishing – groceries, clean clothes, diapers, wipes, toilet paper, soap, dog food – could itself be a full-time job. If I had one day of finding every single thing where and when I need it, it would feel like a major accomplishment. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were just home management plus child management…. If, for example, I was happy to put the kids in front of the TV for hours and serve pre-packaged foods for dinner. Problem is, I’m not happy with that; the minimum effort doesn’t cut it. Doing this job with excellence – attending carefully and well – requires infinitely more.
When I hear moms who work outside the home say they “like “and “are good at” their jobs… boy, I get that. I like my (compensated) job too – at least, I like the space and independence and freedom that doing it brings (in comparison to tending well to my kids and home). My consulting work (which now occupies 3 – 5 hours of my week), even in its more frustrating and taxing moments, is way easier than being home full-time with my kids. And in the short and measurable runs, I feel much more competent and successful doing it than when I’m correcting my seemingly untrainable child for the 11th time on the same issue. More successful than working, over weeks and months, with children apt to show me their worst and most sinful sides in the home space we occupy together. (Note: this is not to knock moms who work outside the home or to say there’s no place for doing so. I understand that the landscape is complex and am not judging, here or elsewhere.)
The landscape of parenting today sells mothers such a bill of goods. All the options available to us cloud the realities – the full-time working mom, the part-time working mom, the part-time work-from-home mom, the full-time stay-at-home mom. The attachment mom vs. the scheduled mom. The child-led mom vs. the firme, high-expectations mom. We think, “This is so stinking hard. I must be doing something wrong. There must be a better way.” We feel discouraged and guilty. The darn photos we incessantly view on Facebook of other people’s families, the endless parenting magazines we fill doctor office waiting rooms - they show happier families, more fulfilled mothers. Hint at more successful strategies and results than ours. Can’t this be easier?!
The reality is: yes, there are parenting strategies that work better than others, critical principles that improve things when we employ them. But they’re no fix-all. It’s just darn hard work. We’ve been conditioned by our culture to see life in terms of instant results, short-cuts, and superficial happiness. But these have no place in mothering young children.
A friend of mine told me about an older, wiser couple she knew who called their earliest years with kids the ”Dark Years.” At first this struck me as sad – seeing such a tender and beautiful time with sweet babies int this light. But now I appreciate the candor and honesty that this viewpoint brings. This couple counted the cost; they got it. They didn’t deny that it was really hard at first; then they acknowledged and rejoiced when things got easier as their kids aged… when they got out of the ‘panic room’ stage. Because it does end, and it is worth it. We get moments of knowing this now, while we’re in this phase, and later we’ll get to relish it more fully when the intensity of life with young ones dissipates. God is with us. He humbles us as we mother young ones and teeter on the brink of insanity; he gives us the strength and vision we need. He equips us to fulfill our most challenging calling, that of mothering young children with excellence to grow and love him. God’s promise is that, as we trust and lean on Him, we will make it through the Panic Room stage and it will be worth it – for us and our kids.
Thanks so much for your truthful, yet encouraging words. I think one of my Imperfect Mamas Club t-shirts should read Hard Doesn’t Equal Bad. You can read more from this Mama here.
The Imperfect Mamas Club is an invitation, really almost a plea, to start sharing our struggles and our successes amongst Mamas, rather than put on our best hair and shoes whenever we get together. Are you more encouraged by the mom who appears to have it all together, or the mom who obviously loves her kids but also shows her slip and admits to her hard days and the fact that she doesn’t have it all together? I want to be the latter mom and help others be that mom too, for that path leads to grace and to the Lord, the other leads to guilt and disappointment. Would you like to find more Imperfect Mamas and/or let you own scratchy voice be heard, head to the original post and click on The Imperfect Mamas Club to the right (under categories) to see all related posts.
Please email me if you’d like to submit a story, reflection, word of truth or encouragement.
Deep Thoughts Always Happen in the Car
The other day in the car, a conversation across the minivan.
Mookie: “Mommy, those girls were talking foolish and using bad words.”
Mama thought: Oh what a wise, mature girl.
“Wow, I’m glad you could recognize that and choose not to be a part of it, it’s can be pretty hard when you’re with friends.”
Jellybean: “Yeah, they were also being kind of mean to the younger kids and keeping me from playing on the slide or coming in the house.”
Mama thought: Is this the same child who pushed her brother off the bed and then left him crying quietly on the floor while she went back to sleep?
Jellybean: “Why were they acting like that? You know how I’m all in to taking care of God’s creation and trying to make it like it used to be, well, people are God’s creation too so the way we can take care of them is for everybody to love everybody. ”
Mama thought: Ooh, what an amazing child, I’m sure she’s not the same one who hides her brother’s favorite animals and then lies about where they are, enjoying his anger and frustration.
Mama: “That’s great and you know that’s how other people are going to be able to tell how there is something different about your heart, by how you love people.”
Jellybean: “Mama-”
Mama thought: I wonder what wonderfully deep thing she’ll say next.
Mama: Yeah?
Jellybean: “Do crocodiles loose their teeth?”
Giggles, chuckling, the baby starts laughing with us.
Oh that’s right, she’s 7 years old. I’m 32 and I still have a lot to learn about loving people. And the dental health of a crocodile.
1 commentLittle, Big Man
Two children and two girls into motherhood, and then-a boy. By then the excitement of getting to try out a boy had given way to fear. ”I know girls, what in the world will I do with a boy, and my goodness, aren’t clothes for boys so boring?”
My friend Beth looked me in the eye, “I love my girl, but I am in love with my boy. Just wait.”
How many times I’ve repeated that statement to my friends expecting their first boy, the same look in my eye. I’m in love with this little, big man.
The third child, the only boy, let’s just say he gets a way with things sometimes. Did I mention he’s a serious kisser? I mean he can let loose with the kisses and the hugs. To the point that his sisters start rolling their eyes and sighing, “Why does he have to talk about kissing you all the time?” One day they’ll understand. I’m not putting any stops to it until, inevitably, it happens on it’s own.
On the other hand, I really want this little man to become a strong, Godly, father and husband. Which he be may if he’s able to survive his sisters.
This weekend marked his fifth year with our family. For this first half-decade, he’s gotten along pretty well as the little brother and the super sweet son. This year he got promoted to big brother and demoted from being the baby in the house(though the boy thing still works in his favor). Little by little he’s coming into his own-we’ll watch with interest as he creates an identity separate from “brother of 3 sisters”.
But for now, keep the kisses coming little, big man.
“I’m going to be a daddy soon,” said the Boy on the morning of his birthday.
2 commentsOh Baby with Baby(Doll)
Baby finds her doll.
Baby picks up doll.
Baby puts thumb in mouth.
It happens every time.
And I fall for this little one even more. Is that even possible?
1 commentImperfect Mamas Club-Guest Post
I came across A Path Made Straight on one of those late night blog binges. You know what I mean. By the time I found it I had a running list of all the ways I could be a better mom-better art projects, dress the kids in cuter outfits, take up knitting. As I read her blog I didn’t find myself adding to the list. Shoulders and neck loosening, the main words that came to mind, “Yes, exactly.” Her day sounded like my day, messy. And what I loved best was that even on the very far from perfect day, I could tell Mama Hooper still wanted to get up each morning and be with her kids, come what may. She seemed to want what I wanted, a little more grace each day, transforming my heart to then transfuse it to my children.
Thanks for openly confessing that you’re an Imperfect Mama.
More
The snowman figurine dashed to the floor, one mittened arm lying broken, bent just the way flesh and bone would be, she thought, and Mama sadly scooped it up with her hands. She whose long blonde hair spun as she twirled and caught the snowman and sent him to his fate stood to the side, her hand covering a muffled, I’m sorry, Mama.
And from her knees, Mama smiled and said, You are more important to me than this snowman, precious! It’s all right- let’s see if we can fix it!
But before long (less than ten minutes), and not very far away (about ten feet as the crow flies), came another shattering sound. And this time, a ceramic mama holding her baby close lay in ruins, head and body severed cruelly; even the soft carpet couldn’t save her. The flesh and bone mama knew there was no repairing this one, no- but before her heart ran away with her thoughts, there was a touch on her shoulder, and a sniffle. I’m sorry, Mama!
And the mama turned and pulled gangly four-year-old, all legs and angles and shoulders, into her arms and said gently, and with a smile, It’s all right, Eliana. I love you more than this piece! And they fingered it sadly, together, and rose as one and walked deeper into the day.
And the mama was thankful, and rather proud, for the way she had handled those moments. For she felt thatfinally, she was getting the hang of
But suddenly, the lemonade spilled. An entire pitcher. Right before lunch was served, when food was hot and ready and four hungry souls circled the table in that pure happiness which comes from food that fills…
But the sugary drink left a sticky mess on the table, and she just knew it was dribbling between the cracks and puddling on the spare leaf underneath. Oldest boy fetched a towel and middle boy tried in his eight-year-old way to mop up the lemons life gave them and Mama caught her eyes across the table.
Sorry, Mama, she murmured, all hopeful and vulnerable and waiting.
And the mama tried to smile, tried to reassure, tried to fix all with the Jesus words she knew by rote but still required a channel to be pulled through heart and up and out… but she stayed silent, and smileless, and moved to the sink to wring out the rags.
She tried the words on for size. You are more precious to me than… I love you more than… what? And she knew why the words stayed stubbornly still, did not move from their place to take wing on her lips and fly to the child whose heart lay in her Mama’s hands.
Her time. That was the culprit. It wanted her full attention, did not want to be interrupted by silly spills and severed heads and broken mittens.
My time. Is that it? That’s what is holding me back? Is she more precious to me than my time? Do I love hermore than my time?
Oh, it’s easy to give time when it’s on our “clock”, so to speak. But when it’s taken from us? Well, then, Jesus words require an effort that a stay-at-home mama must hone with preemptive quiet time in the morning, with whispered prayers all day long, with nighttime knees-by-the-bedside talks with her Lord.
There at the sink, she heard her pride crack, and felt as if her own heart were made of ceramic and was severed from the head that now bowed in humility.
Yes. That was the answer. Yes. I love you more than my time!
Their feet were kind of sticking to the floor, but that was beside the point. There were other things far more important.
Such as time, well spent.
Knowing
It’s 11pm on February 23rd.
A year ago I was eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and the knowledge that our family(and my body for that matter) would forever change the next day was both real(hence the pint of ice cream) and completely untouchable.
I’d done it three times before, the expecting, the laboring, the greeting.
I knew she was a girl and I knew that I would love her.
But I didn’t know yet her eyes, those life-giving eyes, holding mine.
My body knew her from the inside but soon we would join together skin to skin, warmth to warmth. Joy repeating that she was mine, still there, just waiting to be held each time I would lift her from her bed.
I didn’t know yet the liquid velvet of her skin as she lay beside me nursing or the fervent affection of her siblings that would follow me throughout the days.
In all the adjustment(chaos, sometimes tears, forever stretching) of adding a fourth child to our family, the one thing that’s been right the entire time is this baby girl.
You might say that I gave life to her one year ago, I’d say she’s given all of us life each day since.
She is enjoyed.
Eating ice cream that night, I didn’t know. Tonight I do.
Who Says
Around here, this little one has everyone fighting for her attention.
With only six days until her first birthday, she’s already been giving us a whole lot of love.
And we’ve been savoring every bit of it.
I Am THAT Mom-Guest Post
From Tiana:
I have so many funny stories about how I can’t control my daughter one little bit. She’s such a strong-willed child that I just have to laugh at her or I might seriously go crazy.
Like the fact that I have a masters degree in nutrition and had great intentions of feeding her all home-made organic foods with lots of fruits and veggies, but instead I have a child who eats nothing but Wheat Thins and Goldfish crackers. And she’s now actually in feeding therapy once a week because of her refusal to eat. Oh, the irony.
Or the fact that we usually put her to bed in a dark, quiet room at 7:30 or 8:00 pm, just like other parents, but she’ll lie in her bed and sing or talk or play until 11:30 at night, just because she doesn’t want to go to sleep.
We took her pacifier away when she turned 3. Everyone told me she would cry for a few days, but soon she would forget all about it and all would be fine. She screamed bloody murder for an entire month. She stopped taking naps altogether for that month, never went to sleep before midnight, woke up 3 or 4 times a night screaming, and asked for her pacifier at least a hundred times a day (not exaggerating, really). And she would get so upset when I wouldn’t give it to her that she would lie down on the floor and sob and scream so loud that I really thought I would lose my mind, multiple times a day.
She wears the same pink princess dress every single day, and every night over her pajamas, because she says every princess needs to wear a dress that goes all the way down to her feet.
She’s so funny. She’s a handful, but I love her like crazy!
And now a story….
I Am THAT Mom
(originally published on Tiana’s blog, April 2009)
We’ve all seen it before: You’re standing in line at the grocery store and the woman in front of you has a toddler who asks for a toy or a piece of candy. The mom says no, then the child throws a huge tantrum, screaming and crying and kicking. Everyone looks at them, the mom looks flustered and begs the child to settle down, and the oblivious child continues his tantrum. You know what everyone around you is thinking, and you find yourself thinking the same thing:
“Why can’t that woman control her child?? MY child would never act like that. I just must be a better mom than her!”
Yesterday I had the humbling privilege of being THAT mom.
I picked Clara Beth up from Mother’s Day Out and took her to a local toy store that has real live bunnies for Easter. We went last year and of course she loved it, so I knew we had to do it again. She had so much fun petting the bunnies and feeding them grass. Then we went to look for a birthday present for her little friend. While I was looking I found Dora and Boots dolls, which I’ve been trying to find for Clara for months. I handed them to Clara and of course she was ecstatic. She played with them the whole time we were in the store and even let Boots pet the bunnies.
When I told her it was time to go, she asked me very sweetly,
“Mommy, can I keep Dora and Boots?”
I said,
“Yes honey, I’m going to buy them for you as a special treat.”
She was so happy.
THEN, when we got up to the cash register, I told her we had to pay for Dora and Boots. That’s when it all began to fall apart…
Clara: “NO! I want to keep Dora and Boots!”
Me: “I know. You can keep them. We just have to pay for them.”
Clara: “NO! I don’t want to pay for them! I want to keep them!”
Me: “Clara, we just have to hand them to this lady and she will give them right back to you.”
Clara: “NOOOOOOO! I want to HAVE Dora and Boots!”
You get the idea.
By this time her scream has escalated to its highest pitched, bloody murder volume. Everyone in the whole store is staring at us and the line behind us is getting longer. The grandmotherly woman at the register was trying to be nice and telling Clara that she could still hold Dora and Boots, but she would just point her little red line at them and Clara wouldn’t have to give them to her. Clara starts screaming at the top of her lungs,
“I NEED TO GET SELF-CONTROL! I NEED A TIME-OUT!!”
(To her that means she needs to go sit by herself and have everyone leave her alone – not quite the idea I was going for.) The saleslady then starts giving me that disapproving look that secretly says,
“You need to discipline that child.”
Then she looks at Clara Beth and says,
“Oh my, aren’t you a drama queen?”
It was horrible.
Finally I just grabbed the dolls and let the lady scan them, gave them back to Clara, paid for the toys, and marched out in total mortification. When we got to the door I knelt down in front of Clara Beth and told her that her behavior was not acceptable and that she needs to obey Mommy. I told her it makes God happy when she obeys Mommy. She told me she was sorry for screaming and I told her I forgave her, but I wanted her to have a thankful heart when Mommy buys her a special treat. She cheerfully said,
“OK, Mommy,”
and forgot the whole incident.
Yikes! Anyone wanna tell me where I went wrong? I’m assuming that from now on I need to prepare her before we get to the cash register so she’ll know what to expect. She doesn’t like to be taken by surprise (she gets that from me…). But like I said, it was very humbling.
Next time I see another mom in that situation, I’ll smile at her and make sure my face doesn’t show that disapproving look that we all know so well…
A Pop Quiz-Imperfect Mama Style
Question: The image above is-
A) A lovely valentine hand-crafted by my 4 year old.
B)Treasures retrieved from outside when the snow melted today.
C) The items removed from 11-month old Sparkle’s mouth the past few days.
If you answered A or B, your faith in my role as a mother is appreciated. The answer, however, is C.
Do you remember preparing your home for your first child?
Mr. Darcy and I studied the safety section in Expecting carefully, then researched the product companies through Consumer Reports. Armed with data we headed to the baby superstore to try out the models in person before making our final selections. Handing over large sums of money for the best monitor(we did stop short of the video screen, this one only detected the heart rate and breaths per minute), the firm, non-flammable mattress, and carseat complete with it’s own floatation device. In addition were the boxes upon boxes of plastic paraphenalia to lock down the cabintry, seal the electric outlets, and baby-proof(and adult-proof) door handles. Are we the only parents that applied these devices to areas taller than a 9 year old, while the in-utero child still had gills? We were prepared.
Our first child did not eat anything off the floor. I remember observing a friend’s baby(3rd) work through a feast of leftovers on the linoleum as I shielded my Mookie’s eyes lest she learn learn the bad habit. Noticing my concern, the friend explained casually, “The first child doesn’t eat anything off the floor, the second you wash it first, and with the third you skip the high chair and start on the floor.” I left that day appalled and even more determined. ”Yuck,” said little Mookie when she applied her pincher grasp to a spare crumb from the carpet. “Yuck, yuck.” Good girl.
Of course, with our first child, we had certain factors in our favor that aided her safety. Aside from only age appropriate toys, we didn’t walk through the house dropping scissors and small air-blocking items on the floor. Mr. Darcy and I didn’t sit on the carpet munching popcorn kernels and making bead necklaces.
So how is it that Sparkles has gummed every known choking hazard that’s listed in red letters on the front of those handy pamphlets given out by the pediatrician?
In the rolling stage, I had a full-proof system. An example:
10:01am: I work through math problems with the older girls, keeping an eye on baby.
10:03: Baby sees lego sailboat and begins roll maneuver. I don’t move yet, at least two minutes until impact.
10:04: We finish measuring the perimeter of the rectangle, meanwhile baby has now reached the legos and makes a swiping grasp at the structure. I’ve still got 30 full seconds to check copywork before the lego reaches target.
10:05: Finished with our assignment, lego still several inches from wet, spongy gums, I stop to fasten my 4 year old’s overalls, grab a sip of water, and reach Sparkles in plenty of time.
Sure, with baby number 1 and 2, there would have been no Lego. With number 3, I might have checked the floor before putting her down to play. But with Sparkles, I realize this type of monitored distraction can work in my favor, allowing me a few more productive moments, and besides, after 9 years my danger sensors are well oiled, my reflexes in top form, my confidence level high.
Then two weeks ago she started crawling. The Locate and Insert Manuever tripled in speed.
She hides these things in her mouth quicker than a squirrel stores a nut, quicker than this mama can turn her head.
A button, bead, ponytail holder, bead necklace, rock(multiple), walnut(and almond), playmobile helmet(shield and horse bridal), sticker, lego, and yes, a marble.
Just to put you at ease, we do use a high chair and our electric outlets are (mostly)covered.
Look for our next guest post Thursday afternoon, keep sharing your stories.
2 comments
