Category Archives: My Big Jesus

faith, food, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Mountains or Molehills?

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I don’t know if you know this about me, but I seriously love my family. Hubby and I have the best families on the planet. I’m sure yours is great, but… mine’s better.

Today, my sisters-in-law and I met our mother-in-law to plan out the holidays, everyone’s travel plans, and some dates we will all be together. Not only did we have a fun time at lunch, but decided to go shopping together! We then had so much fun shopping that when we needed to head home, we did so with the idea we’d get the brothers and our kids to have dinner together! So we packed up our families and met for dinner. Six adults, a toddler and three babies. It was a lot. We ate a lot. We spilled a lot. We laughed a lot. It was just a lot.

I had a choice at dinner tonight. I could have been stressed about the fact that in the first ten minutes, water, wine and green beans were all spilled. I could have been annoyed that J would only eat if he was sitting in my lap (aka if I was unable to eat). I could have been frustrated that right when I was able to eat a few bites, EK needed to go potty. But in fact, I chose fun. It was fun to pass the kids around the table, help ourselves to everyone else’s food, and make a big mess (for which we tipped generously, promise). I chose to be excited that my daughter told me she needed to go potty instead of peeing in her diaper! That was a miracle in itself!

When you have a choice between being frustrated, and giving in to the situation and making the best of it, making the right choice can be tough. I’m a high-strung person by nature (sorry, everyone) so I can make big deals out of basically anything. But it’s my constant goal – and sometimes struggle – to “Let It Go” (forgive the reference). I need lots of reminders, and I ask for a lot of help. My family bears with me in the midst of my sometimes-OCD. But I like myself more, and I’m sure everyone else does, too, if I can give in to the crazy and fun, instead of making a mountain out of a molehill.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

8 Things I Want My Non-Parent Friends to Know

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This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com along with tons of other awesome posts – check them out!

I have lots of non-parent friends. They’re great! I love spending time with them, although sometimes it seems that I don’t get to as often as I’d like. So, non-parents, here’s to you!

1. I still want to hang out. Yes, it might mean you come to me more often than I come to you. Yes, it might mean that I come with one or two little stowaways. Yes, it might take a little more planning. Yes, it might even mean that it’s cut short or cried out by a kid (with me or with someone else). But I still value our relationship. It looks different, but I don’t want it to end.

2. I can still be spontaneous. There’s the odd night that my kids are in bed early, and I am not tired. Yeah, I said it. Sometimes, I want to leave the house at 8:00pm and watch tv with you or catch a late dinner. Give me a break and meet me for a drink, already!

3. I didn’t stop being cool. I still like listening to good music, seeing good movies and eating good food. Why do you assume I only eat chicken nuggets while listening to Raffi?

4. I’m still a woman. Yes, “mommy” is one of my number one defining attributes. However, I’m a wife. I’m a friend. I’m a daughter. I’m a sister. Most of all, (GASP!) I’m a woman. I love wearing mascara, shopping for shoes, sipping lattes and (insert any other cliche about females here).

5. I don’t think less of you because you aren’t in my shoes. Just because you decided not to have kids, or haven’t found your soul mate doesn’t mean I think any less of you. I have friends in every stage of life; I haven’t limited my hangout group to “parents of young kids”.

6. I like to stay up late! I’m still a night owl; I can function on less sleep sometimes. I’m productive and happy at night after my kids go to bed, so call me up or come over for a chat! Don’t assume I crash at 7:30pm when my kids do, because that’s only sometimes true.

7. I love my kids, but I don’t mind leaving them sometimes. In fact, I think it’s healthy for me to have conversations with other adults, have a meal I don’t have to share, and to peepee in the potty without an audience.

8. I would love it if you hung out with my kids. They’re hilarious. I’m proud of them. I want to show them off in their best light, and I also want you to see their off days, so you have a real picture of who I am through these little lives I have created, shaped, loved and let go. Yeah, it might not be for you right now. It might not be for you ever. But being a parent is fun, crazy, hard and rewarding. It’s who I am. It’s the greatest gift God has ever given me, and I do my best to relish it and share it. Get to know my kids, and you get to know me.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

The Great Pumpkin Patch Meltdown

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I had a grand idea. It was to get Hubby and our kids, Hubby’s brothers, their wives and their kids all together for a photo shoot. It’s fall, so we figured a local pumpkin patch was the best place to do it. We planned our outfits, picked a time that worked around everyone’s naps, and planned our weekend around it. J can sometimes have a super long morning nap, so I ended up having to wake him up to get him ready to go. I was a little worried whether or not he’d let go of me and hang out with the other kids so we could get some good pictures.

Little did I know, he wasn’t the one I needed to worry about.

EK had had a totally normal morning, and right when we got to the pumpkin patch, she was really sweet on all the littler babies. But then, we decided we wanted to put the babies in a wagon (this place had those red Radio Flyers you could put the pumpkins in to take them to the car) and have EK pull it. But it was tougher than it looked (when it was full of pumpkins and babies), so I tried to help her a little.

Note: She didn’t want the help. Cue the biggest “terrible two” meltdown I’ve ever seen.

This was a lay-on-the-ground, scream-at-the-top-of-her-lungs sort of tantrum. My even-tempered child turned into an angry monster over whom I had no control. No one could do anything, so we all stood around, a little nervously, and try to pretend no one noticed the tantruming toddler.

Hubby’s mom finally picked her up and took her to get a snow cone from the stand nearby (because it’s okay when grandmas do that) so that we could try to continue taking photos. But as soon as snow cone time was over, it was meltdown #2. Or maybe the meltdown had only paused. Either way, the cute photos of my daughter were pretty much over.

What does a mama do in that situation? Wait it out. In a public place, surrounded by family and strangers alike, I just had to let it run its course. Thankfully, everyone was gracious and turned a blind eye to the ground-shaking sounds erupting from the small body. It was her first real tantrum, and we haven’t had another one since.  Here’s to praying that it was a one-time fluke… right?

The mischievous face of my darling two-year-old, pre-meltdown. I think she was plotting all along.
The mischievous face of my darling daughter, pre-meltdown. I think she was plotting all along.
faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Why does it always work out that way?

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As I type this, I’m sitting on my couch, listening to my son fuss. He should be asleep. It’s 7:50pm, and he’s been in the bed for half an hour. The first 20 minutes were silent – and now, as I’m trying to leave the house, he’s awake and fussing to get up and play. He had a big day full of family photos and playing hard. He needs to rest after the craziness of the day. This is the first night in weeks that he hasn’t gone to bed without any trouble. It’s also one of the first nights that I’m trying to go out to a birthday party that started at 7:00. Hubby is working, and my mom is keeping the kids. She and my daughter are happily watching a quick tv show before bed, and my mom simply requested that J be asleep before I left.

Or it should’ve been a simple request.

I’m dressed, purse and keys in hand, hoping this won’t take all night. I’m dying to see my friends while I’m wearing mascara and not wearing yoga pants. Plus, I don’t want to miss the cake – because there has to be cake, right? But here I am, held back by the quiet (getting quieter…) sounds of my still wakeful son. I’ve check on him several times – checking his diaper, patting his back, giving him smooches. And still he fights sleep.

I wonder how often God waits on us… fussing… whining… refusing to just rest. I wonder if He is sitting, on some heavenly leather sofa, waiting for us to come around to the thing we need the most. He’s probably not waiting so that He can go to a party, but waiting because He knows we will be happy when we finally get what we need – Him. When we rest in Him we are refreshed. We are rejuvenated. We are healthier and more whole. But we put up a fight, just like my son is doing now. We think we know what we want, but we forget to listen to the One who knows best.

faith, My Big Jesus

When it feels bad.

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

Why is my child crying? Because she wanted to get in the pool. And then she didn't anymore.
Why is my child crying? Because she wanted to get in the pool. And then she didn’t anymore.

Sometimes, I have a day that just goes wrong. The kids wake up WAY too early. I don’t have a minute to drink my coffee before it’s cold. J throws more of his breakfast on the floor than in his mouth. EK fights me putting on shoes for preschool (she wants the too-big dress-up ones). J goes down for his nap late, so I’m late picking EK up from preschool. No one wants the lunch I fixed for them. Hubby forgot to tell me he had plans all evening. Y’all know how it is. You feel like you’re trying, trying hard, at that. But then the more you try to fix things, the worse they get. Finally, you explode. Or you have a breakdown. Or both.

How about a few cliches you don’t want to hear: Don’t sweat the small stuff. You’ll look back on this and laugh. It always seems worse when you’re in the thick of it. Well, those don’t make anyone feel better. Why is it we always wait to ask for help till things are really bad? Why don’t I pray at the first sign of the day going awry, and ask for a change of heart?

Sometimes my pride, my desire for control in a situation prevents me from asking even the One who can help me most. I want to feel like I’m a great mom, so I try to do all the things myself. All. Of. The. Things. And then, when my healthy, baby-friendly muffins burn in the oven, my kids won’t go down for their naps, I miss my work out and we eat fast food for dinner, I feel like a failure. Not just any failure, an enormous failure, as a mom, as a wife, as the shadow of a normally happy, healthy, productive woman.

I forget to think about what went right. For instance, my kids are fed, clean and clothed, they’ve gotten to play and snuggle, and they’ve been loved on. Hubby came home safely, and kissed me when he walked in the door. I didn’t burn the house down and I even took a shower (am I right?!) so the day wasn’t a total waste.

Sometimes I also forget to give credit where it’s due, to thank Jesus for my family, our full (of chicken nuggets) bellies and smiling (from ridiculous exhaustion) faces, our home (a complete mess because we are so blessed with toys and time to play with them) and our love for each other. So I’ve made a resolution. Each day, I will give as many thanks as possible. I will intentionally thank the Lord for every single thing I can think of as I think of it. I will pray these things without ceasing. Gratitude can change a hard heart (guilty), change a sharp tongue (guilty again), and change an entire outlook from dim to bright. I will learn to rest in the gratitude for each blessing in my life. I will let my heart be changed.

faith, My Big Jesus

Your Mercies Are New Every Morning

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Fall has always felt like a new beginning for me. That’s partially because it’s been linked to the start of a new school year, but it’s also because of the change that happens. We move from hot and sunny and stifling and dry into a cooler, more pleasant few months. I don’t like frigid cold, but I appreciate the brisk, crisp fall air. I like sunny days that are also chilly. I like always having a warm drink in my biggest mug. I also like the layers and scarves and boots of my fall wardrobe. I digress.

Since it’s fall, and I am overcome with a feeling of fresh start, there’s a verse that has been on my heart recently. My women’s small group used it as their memory verse a couple of weeks ago.

Lamentations 3:22-23: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.

His mercies are new every morning. How beautiful is that idea? Whatever you did yesterday, or didn’t do yesterday, you have a clean slate each morning. Bring your messes to The Lord and be redeemed, because He is bigger than your mess.

As an (extremely) imperfect woman, wife, mother, and friend, I find great joy in knowing that He has overcome my sins and my failures. His plan for me is bigger and better than the lunch date I forgot about, the laundry I didn’t do, and the unkind words I have spoken to Hubby. In I Peter we are reminded to love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins. I am thankful for a Father who loves me deeply and perfectly. I am thankful for perfect example of love to serve as a model for the love that I should give to others.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

She Loves You (Yeah Yeah Yeah!)

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With kids, everything happens in stages. Stages of waking up every few hours, and stages of sleeping through the night. Stages of independence, and stages of debilitating neediness. Stages of picky eating, and stages of so hungry they’ll eat sidewalk chalk after a three course meal. These stages – seasons, I like to call them – go by alarmingly fast sometimes.

Recently EK has entered into a season of snuggling, hugging and kissing. Voluntarily showing love, basically. It’s particularly merciful because this season is on the heels of a difficult season of not wanting to sit still enough to snuggle, yet screaming and crying if we left her for even a moment. But she has (for the time being) moved on to confidently knowing we’ll come back, and giving us smooches for the road.

For instance, the other evening I was leaving to go to a birthday party, and left the kids with a friend. When I announced that I was leaving, told her I loved her, and turned toward the door, she ran over to me saying, “Hug! Hug!” So of course I picked her up, and she said, “Bye bye mama. I miss you.” Talk about melting a mama’s heart. I mean, seriously… when I pick her up to hug her these days, she snuggles my neck, pats my back and strokes my hair! It’s truly a Pat yourself on the back, you good parent, you! sort of thing. The gestures of love she’s received from Hubby and me are being given back to us. She has so internalized our love and the way we show it that she is giving that love back out.

What if we, as children of God, took the gestures of love shown to us by the Father, and gave it back to Him? Or better yet, passed it on to others? The Heavenly Father gave up his only son for you. And me. And our families. And old folks in nursing homes. And inner city children. And celebrities. And sleazy politicians. And murderers and thieves. He loves us (all of us!) that much. As much as I love my children (a ludicrous amount), it’s only a fraction of the love God has for me. If we take even a portion of the love and blessing we’ve received from the Father, and multiply it by passing it on? That’s Kingdom business.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, teaching

I have no “back to school”.

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But isn't it nice that I'm with this gal all day?
But isn’t it nice that I’m with this gal all day?

It’s fall. The weather is cooling off (thankfully), the pumpkins are out in front of every grocery store, Halloween decorations are popping up everywhere, and all I hear on the radio is that the stupid fair is coming soon. My daughter has started preschool. Church activities have been going for weeks. But something feels… weird.

It’s the first time in my life that I haven’t gone “back to school”. When I graduated high school, I went to college. When I graduated college, I taught middle school chorus for three years, then elementary school music for three more years. And here I am. Not back to school.

I’m not regretting this decision at all. I am happy to be working part-time at my amazing church, and spending the bulk of my time loving my children and my husband well. But still, as I am settling into a schedule (mostly by force – I need that routine!) I still have so much unstructured time. I’m used to cramming my lunch in 18 minutes, multi-tasking like a boss, holding my bladder for an abnormally long time, and changing what I’m teaching (read: living, breathing, doing, thinking about) every 40 minutes – and often sooner than that.

But you know what else I was used to? Being drained at 3:00pm. Working some nights after working all day. Thinking about the needs, wants, thoughts, and jibes of hundreds of children that weren’t mine. Missing my own children all day while I was off taking care of someone else’s. Feeling bad that I had nothing left for my family after I’d spent myself on my job.

That last one was my kicker. Because truly, I enjoy working. I love having a schedule (there it is again), having a reason to leave the house every day, and sowing into something outside my home and family. I love teaching, and the opportunities the job gave me to really love on some kids who needed it. I love instilling knowledge and love of music into kids who need something at school for be good at, when math and reading don’t come easily. But for right now, Hubby and my own kids are what I need to focus on.

I respect you, working moms – especially teaching moms, because I have been among your ranks, in those trenches with you. But I am incredibly grateful that I could make the decision to leave you for a while. I’ll return, but right now, I’m thinking of you as a wrangle my ridiculously strong son into his clothes for the day, make several breakfasts and eat whatever the kids don’t, and microwave my coffee for the third time.  I’m thinking of you, because I know many of you are happily at jobs you love, knowing your kids are happy in their schools and day cares or with daddies and nannies. I’m thinking of you, also, if you’re wishing you were doing what I’m doing but it’s not possible. While it’s weird that I’m not back to school, I choose to rest in the unstructured craziness and enjoy it.

faith, My Big Jesus, random thoughts, Uncategorized

I’m Getting to That Age, I Guess.

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…that age where your grandparents are old. Really old. I’m 28, so my grandparents are in their late 80s and early 90s. They have ailments. They move more slowly. They do fewer things. And then, the inevitable happens. They get a disease – for some, it’s cancer. For others, like my dad’s mom, it’s Alzheimer’s. They deteriorate. They lose parts of themselves. In an Alzheimer’s case, they can become someone totally different than the person you knew.

In the span of 11 months, I’ve lost two grandparents. My mom’s father passed last November, completely unexpectedly. I don’t know whether that’s better or worse than the months or years of deterioration that can prepare your heart and your head for the end result. In a way, it’s merciful. There’s little suffering, few tears cried on the front side, and less burden of who will take care of the person or where they will live when they need around-the-clock care, and (yes it’s cold, but a very real problem) who will pay for it. But on the other hand, he was way too young, too healthy, too close to us to say goodbye right then. And the fact that he was visiting me in North Carolina at the time instead of home in Georgia when he passed? That was brutal.

My dad’s mom, on the other hand, passed away on Thursday after almost ten years of physical and mental degeneration. Before that, she had showed signs of Alzheimer’s and we knew it ran in her family, but the passing of her husband in 2005 just unhinged her. Her doctor has been saying for several years that it could be days, or months, or years; we wouldn’t know. But what we did know was that her essence has been gone for a while. She hasn’t recognized me any of the last six times I’ve seen her, until I introduce myself. She thought my brother was my dad, thought my dad was her husband, and never even met my 8 month old son.

In spite of the past 11 months, I’m glad that I had so much time with all four of my grandparents. I even knew two (well, technically three, but only barely) of my great-grandparents. I’m luckier than many. But it also disillusioned me – those people are supposed to be there to witness my entire life, not just part of it, right? They’re supposed to see graduations and weddings and births and my kids’ milestones as well!

And there’s where I get happy. My grandparents are seeing those things. They’re seeing my kids, all day every day. They’re watching from Heaven, where they are way happier and whole and healthy. New bodies, new minds, and in a paradise better than any place on earth.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Looking for Patience and Grace

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This post appeared on MyBigJesus.com

I’m constantly reminding myself to chill out. I’m always noticing a pan that didn’t get washed well enough, or seeing that J’s third shirt (of the morning) is dirty, or remembering something I forgot to do, or… you get the point. I immediately want to freak out at these things. My life is full of messes I can’t clean up and accidents I can’t prevent. O ye of little patience, I am your leader.

Being a parent, a wife, a human, is a lesson in patience for me. Being a teacher for six years was as well. I’m all about some deep breathing, counting to ten, and clasping my hands very tightly in my lap. Patience is the biggest thing for which I’m constantly asking God. Sure, I say it different ways: “Help me get through this traffic without succumbing to my Atlanta-bred road rage!” or “Help me not to yell at EK for spilling the sunflower seeds all over the floor because I know she didn’t mean to.” I come by it honestly; I can be high-strung and short-tempered (just like my parents – sorry, Mom and Dad). Hubby is a saint for putting up with me. But I don’t want my kids to grow up afraid of me because I lurch quickly into frustration. I don’t want them to have memories of me flying off the handle over small stuff. But how exactly do I extend the patience and grace that have been extended to me?

Hubby is a wonderful example for me in patience.  When I said he’s a saint, I was serious. He is able to absorb my craziness and let it go. He shows me endless support, patience and grace for my quick temper and my OCD nature. I see his patience with the kids and with me, and I know I can try harder to give others (okay fine, my kids) a little more grace.

I don’t have it perfected yet by any means, but I start by repairing my thought life. Toxic thoughts just multiply unless I change them. Changing the way I think changes the way I react. Changing the way I react changes how I feel. Often, if I have no patience in a situation, I notice it immediately, and then I get angry with myself for having no patience! It’s a vicious cycle if left alone. However, if I can wait, change the way I’m thinking – extend a little grace and a little patience – it makes all the difference in the world. When I feel like I have no patience or grace to give, I sit back for a moment, and draw from the boundless stores we’re blessed with every moment of every day.

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