Category Archives: faith

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

What It’s Like When “That Kid” in the Church Nursery Is Yours

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

  

I’m a worship leader at my church. I really, really love it. It’s a job that’s fulfilling for me, and I feel like it isn’t really “work” to do it. The only exception is when I’ve got both my tiny ones with me. A couple of weeks ago, Hubby played in the band with me at church, so we were there before 9:00am, with both kids in tow. That’s before the nursery starts, but both of us were setting up and starting rehearsal with the rest of the band. Naturally, I let them eat breakfast at church because that occupies a lot of their attention while I’m trying to get things rolling. But this particular morning, they just seemed to be finished too quickly, and needed to be under my feet. As in literally under my feet, playing with the keyboard pedal and my water bottle. It was not as bad as like Easter Sunday, where practice was a little more important than usual, my kids were a little more needy than usual, and they managed to spill 95% of my $5 latte all over the stage rug. Sorry about that, Pastor. Anyway….

EK managed to get a mic that wasn’t plugged in, and commenced an adorable dance party while she sang into the mic. It was pretty adorable to have that going on while we rehearsed. J, however, needed to be playing the keys from in between me and the keyboard – and at 33 weeks pregnant, ain’t nobody got room for that. So by the time we had set up, tried to play the first song, mostly failed, and I was starting to get frustrated, it was time enough to take the kids downstairs to their nursery rooms.

EK loves it. She’s got friends in both services (she literally asks to “go play with her friends now”), knows all the teachers on the rotation, and doesn’t even look back when we get to the door. It took us a long while to get there, though, and the start of preschool last year was really her landmark for getting over her nursery dislike.

J, however, is still in the throes of screaming right when we get onto the hallway. He knows I’m leaving him there, and he’s not happy about it. Typically, he ends up crying for a while and being okay for the rest of the time, but sometimes he’s angry the whole time I’m gone. I hate it for him. I hate it for me. I hate it for whoever’s in there with him. Everybody down there has done everything they can for him. He even stays in the room he was in last year because he’s slightly more comfortable in there than in the bigger kid room that he’s technically old enough for. He wants to be snuggled and coddled, I guess, and that happens more in the baby room. My 30lb, 18 month old baby. Poor guy, right?

I just keep leaving him thinking, “He’ll get over it.” but it’s been months and he’s not over it. He does start preschool for two mornings a week this fall, so maybe that will do for him what it did for EK, and push him over the hump of hating nursery. But I worry about it every Sunday, apologize when I drop him off, and feel even worse because I’m not like every other mom. I’m not available to run downstairs and snuggle him for a few minutes, or check on him during the service. I have to be upstairs, either leading worship, ready to hop up on stage at a moment’s notice, or available to troubleshoot technical difficulties they might have. I can’t go help him or make him feel better. I leave him in totally capable hands, I just feel terrible about having “that kid” that won’t stop crying, or “that kid” who has to be wheeled around for two hours in a stroller up and down the halls instead of playing nicely with the other kids.

As a mom, it’s like a trifecta of “Am I a bad mama?” It’s hard. It’s embarrassing. It’s sad to leave your kid screaming, week after week. Should I be leaving him like this, week after week? Are the other moms judging me because of how sad he is every time? Are the workers dreading when I walk in with my kid? Am I a bad mom? Could I be doing something different to make him happier? I don’t know. I just know that my kid can’t be the only one. Other kids cry when they’re in the nursery. I’ve seen it. Other moms have to pry their kids off when they leave, right? It’s all worth it for a few minutes of worship time and community with other people who love Jesus. I need that time. I need to make time for Him to be my focus every week. I have to let go of the guilt I feel leaving him unhappy, and hang on to the Father who can make us both feel safe and secure.

mommyhood, My Big Jesus, parenting fails, siblings

My Son’s First Haircut: A Total Toddler Travesty

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

These things happen, they say.

You’ll look back and laugh about it, they say.

Well, I cried about it.

We had just come back from a quick overnight trip to the mountains. We had mostly unpacked, the kids were playing with their toys we’d left behind (because 24 hours away makes them seem new!) and Hubby and I both had some work to get done. While he started getting ready for his gig, I retreated to my computer to do some work for my service on Sunday. I was probably out of the room (the living room… where everyone else was) for about seven or eight minutes total, when I came back through the house.

EK saw me coming and happily shouted, “Mom! I’m cutting Jophiss’ hair!”

I wasn’t alarmed yet. She often took a plastic toy knife and sawed away at her own or her brother’s hair, jabbering on about haircuts. But I quickly saw that this time, there was no pretend sawing happening. My pink-handled scissors from the kitchen drawer were being used to strew my son’s perfectly virgin curls all over the floor. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized what couldn’t be taken back: he had just received his first haircut. No little ceremony, no taking pictures, no sweet, little-boy ‘do resulted from this experience. Just a jagged chunk taken from over his left eye. And now? Nothing left to do but just take that line all the way across his forehead.

So sitting in the floor, tears blurring my eyes (safety first!) I took the blasted scissors, and finished the job. Of course, he figured he didn’t need to sit still for me, so it took a couple of tries to get a semi-straight line of “bangs” across his big noggin. (I want you to know I’m still crying a little as I write this.)

 A couple of days later, we’d started to get used to his new look. At least we didn’t have to swoop the bangs over to get them out of his eyes, right? Anyway, one evening J took a big spill and bonked his forehead on a door, right between his eyes. After I got him calmed down, gave him some Tylenol to ease the blow, got him snuggled in my lap and his whimpering stopped, I only had one thing to say. I looked up at my worried mother-in-law, who had helped me get him calmed down, and said, “Well, if EK hadn’t cut his hair, we wouldn’t even be able to see his giant bruise!”

 Because making light of a stressful situation (even by making fun of a previous stressful situation) can dispel that tension and get a giggle out of even the most concerned grandparent.

faith, mommyhood, random thoughts, women

I Sweat the Small Stuff.

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I think I’ve written about this before. In any case, this (insert the title here) has always been true for me. Detail-oriented, follow-through-with-everything Whitney has stressed over little things her entire life. I know some of you others feel that way, too. Which is why this particular situation and my resulting feelings might be for you, too.

Sometimes, I think the Lord speaks to you through the most random people.

Like the other day, someone commented on my post about our “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad evening“. She basically said this: we can handle big things like we’re ninjas (I loved that!), but when it comes to a pile up of small things, we may just go insane.

Too right she is.

When something big happens, something really important or truly difficult, I ninja up, call upon my people to help or pray, roll up my sleeves and get through it. But if a hundred little tiny things go wrong during a regular old day, when I can’t pinpoint the problem or put my finger on the exact thing that’s frustrating me, I start to go bonkers. I mean it. Bonkers. I want to fly off the handle. Sometimes I do. But who does that benefit? No one. Not me, certainly. Not my kids, who didn’t really do anything besides act their ages. Not Hubby, who is as patient with and kind to me as any human alive could be.

When I read her comment, it was like I got a tap on the shoulder: Hey, she’s talking about YOU. I’ve typically been cool under pressure, and able to handle a lot of stress when it’s put on my shoulders. But BOY do I ever sweat the small stuff. And as a mom, that’s the biggest recurring piece of advice I hear… Don’t sweat the small stuff. Enjoy the little moments. You’ll miss this. Don’t worry about the accidents and messes. Well, that’s all well and fine to say, and for me to nod and smile about. But when he spills the third meal on the floor I just cleaned, add some pee-pee in her panties, hear from the babysitter who’s cancelling and ruining my date night, and then I can’t even give my kids a bath without the entire bathroom (and myself) being soaked? I’m done. I AM DONE.

Any one of those things is a little thing. It falls into the category of “small stuff”. I’m sure I’d think several of those things are funny in a few days when they haven’t happened in a while. But altogether, piled on in the same day, it overwhelms me in a way I can’t accurately describe. I’m immediately ready to throw in the urine-covered towel, and tell Hubby I’m going on date night alone. I’d like to say that my first response is to call for help, to lean on the One who is always ready to hear my cry and give me exactly what I need. But how often is He my last resort? I call on Him for big things, for important things, for scary things. But for the little stuff? Nah – I think I can handle it myself.

Well, I can’t. I need peace. I need rest. I need help. I need love to flow out of me. I can only find those things in one place: the arms of Jesus. And there’s good news! He’s ready and waiting to accept me with open arms, and give me what I need.

mommyhood, My Big Jesus, pregnancy, women

Things I’ve Heard at 33 Weeks Pregnant

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been getting some really interesting comments from strangers. When I say really interesting, I basically mean that they’ve, well, overstepped their boundaries a bit. Here are a few of the things I’m hearing from folks nowadays…

You’re ’bout ready to drop any day now, huh? This is a verbatim quote from a man who worked at Costco, who obviously was also a medical professional. You can tell by his eloquence, and how he stated my condition in a very official way. And no, I have six fairly miserable weeks left.

Haven’t you been pregnant for, like, forever? Why yes, in fact, I was born into this world pregnant. I didn’t even have time in between my children that I wasn’t pregnant. I live in a perpetual state of pregnant.

That’s the cutest belly I’ve ever seen! Well, thank you! I love that my belly is the first thing you noticed about me, and I love it even more when random people comment on it!

Should you be doing/eating/drinking that? Why, you’re right! Thank you so much for your concern. The truth is, I shouldn’t be bending over cleaning the floor or carrying that toddler. This cup of coffee isn’t a necessity, and this donut will kill me. Thanks for the reminder.

Is this your first? Nope, it’s not my first rodeo. I must look like a rookie though, because I get asked this a lot.

Wow! You’re having your third already?! This question is asked as often as the one above, and mostly when I’m out alone with the kids. No, my children weren’t surprises and yes, all three are indeed mine.

And my personal favorite, that I’ve heard unprompted, but also as the next line in a conversation about “how much longer I have left”:

You look big. Well, you look like a jerk.

Add these items to your list of things pregnant women probably don’t want to hear.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, women

I’m an Extroverted Person, But an Introverted Mama.

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus! 

 All of my life, I have loved to be with people. I’m not a loner in any way… I like spending time with people, talking on the phone, building relationships, and getting to know people. It energizes me and makes me happy. I’m a typical extrovert in just about every way; that’s part of what made me a successful teacher. I assumed it would be the same way for me as a mom.

Not so.

Since becoming a mom, I have given more of myself to a person (and then multiple people) than I ever thought possible. All day long I meet the needs of others. I am touched. I am jumped on. I am talked to, cried for, shouted at, and called for. I wipe noses, bottoms, hands and mouths. I dole out hugs and kisses. I toss rubber balls, race little cars, pretend to drink tea and eat cake, and locate missing loveys. While often it does energize me, I do truly enjoy it, and I adore my children, I’ve realized I need “me time” in a way I never have before.

By nap time most days, I am ready to clock out. I have been needed and touched and talked to all I can stand. I put those darlings down for their naps, and want to run away. I’m no longer looking for phone calls to make or friends to invite over while my kids sleep. I’m not wanting to run errands to find a person to talk to. I either want to crawl in the bed or climb in the shower so that I’m truly and sincerely alone. If you’ve ever seen the movie Date Night with Tina Fey, she tells her husband (Steve Carrell) about her amazing fantasy:

If anything, I fantasize sometimes about being alone. There are times when I’ve just thought about, on my worst day, just, you know, leaving our house and just going someplace, like checking into a hotel and just being in a quiet room by myself. Just sitting in a quiet, air-conditioned room, sitting down, eating my lunch, with no one touching me, drinking a Diet Sprite, by myself. Look, I just want to have one day that doesn’t depend on how everyone else’s day goes.

I’ve been joking recently about this with Hubby. I’ll just say, “Diet Sprite”, and he knows I’m referencing my desire to tag out and be alone for a while. When J is pulling on my pants so much that they’re falling down, and EK is shouting from across the house that she needs to poopy, and all I’m doing is trying to fix lunch so they don’t have hunger meltdowns, I fantasize about the very same thing: being alone, in a quiet air-conditioned room. Except change that Diet Sprite to an enormous glass of wine.

So after giving and pouring, day in and day out, I’ve gone from someone who desires company and conversation all day and all night to someone who has a new appreciation for solitude. A cup of tea by myself is a treat the likes of which I haven’t fully appreciated until now. I still love to be with people, and thrive in social situations; my friends and family can certainly tell you that. But my desires have changed as my lifestyle has changed. My entire personality has shifted, and I’ve never been more okay with it.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, siblings

When am I not a “new mom” anymore?

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

I spend a lot of time reading advice for new moms, or reading things for new parents. Still, even expecting baby #3, I’m doing this. It must be because I know that I haven’t done everything perfectly. It must be because I’m still new at having a three-year-old. It must be because I’m fairly new to having two kids. I’ll be new to having a third kid (in two months). There’s always something we’re going to be new at. Can you really be a seasoned mom at everything? 

 Whether you’re a new mom because you just delivered your first, or you’re a long-time mom who has a few adult children, there’s always something to remind you you haven’t done everything yet. Taking your first vacation as a family of four can be as brand new (and difficult) as the day you brought your first home from the hospital. Moving your toddler to a big boy bed can be like having a newborn again who won’t sleep through the night. First middle school dance, first high school prom, and first college formal sound similar, but require different tools (and feelings) in your mama arsenal. Even doing the same thing with each of your children can be like night and day. Sending a child to college is different with every child, since they’re all going off to different schools in different locations in different situations. Marrying off a daughter feels different than marrying off a son, so if you’ve done one, you might be new at the other. Sending off or marrying off your oldest is a totally different experience, I’m sure, than doing so with your youngest.

This year, my big thing I was new at was being a stay at home mom. I’ve been learning every day (every.single.day.) how to walk in this role effectively, gracefully, and comfortably. This is a big one for me. I identified a lot as a working mom for my first two years of motherhood. I had friends who did it that I could get advice from and vent to about things. I had the best of all possible situations, because my daughter (and then my son) stayed home with Daddy. There were still frustrations, sad things, and hard things about not being home with them. And, there were also great things about it.

Sorry I’m not sorry I just wrote that.

There were things like missing the tantrums, not being super stressed about missed naps, not seeing them get their shots at the doctor, or being able to kiss the sick kid on the head, and go to work, instead of dread a fussy day of remembering to give doses of Tylenol on time. I loved having a purpose outside of the home. I still do. I work part-time now (roughly 5-8 hours a week outside the home and several more inside) and I love having that outlet, that reason to leave the house, and the fact that I have the best of both worlds: a job that I love, and the opportunity to spend tons of time with my kids.

But the newness of being a SAHM hasn’t worn off. My kids are always entering new phases in their development, and I’m always catching up and learning the newest thing they do. My daughter is potty-training. One can NEVER be an expert at potty-training. That mess is REAL, y’all (emphasis on mess). My son has learned to climb up and down and all over everything, even in ways my daughter still doesn’t care to do. It’s taken baby-proofing and knowing where he is at all times to a whole other level (think never being alone because I have to be watching him). I’m still new at it. I’ll probably feel, for a little while, new at having a newborn, because breastfeeding, sleep cycles, teething, and growth patterns are different with every baby, and I’m sure the third baby won’t have as much of my undivided attention as even my second one did. It’s just the nature of the beast – no pun intended.

When you feel like you’re new at something, it’s okay. You’ll figure it out. It’s in your nature to find the best way somehow. We’re built for it. You have some motherly instincts, down in there somewhere – sometimes I really felt like I was digging to find mine. But I love my kids. And that makes me a good mom, no matter what stage of mothering I’m in.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

My Kids Are Basically My Best Friends

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

I came to the realization the other day that my relationship with my kids is similar to that of best friends. Our level of closeness rivals that of Bert and Ernie or Thelma and Louise. I’ll tell you why. 

  
I talk to them more often than anyone else. When I’m constantly answering, “What’s that, mama?” and asking, “Are you ready for lunch?” I easily exceed one million words a day that’s we’ve exchanged. We literally talk about everything: foods we dislike, places we’ve left things, how bad our poops smell, and why we have to wear shoes to go to the playground.
I hold their hands a lot. We just love physical contact. Every time we’re in a parking lot, on a sidewalk, in a store, or crossing a street, we hold hands. We just can’t keep our hands apart.

We’re inseparable. I literally have one of my two best friends by my side all day long. We don’t even go to the bathroom alone! The only time they can bear to be separated from me is when they’re sleeping, and that’s only sometimes.

We know everything about each other. We’ve been in some seriously close situations together. Potty breaks, showers, laughing, crying and sleeping: we’ve done it all together.  There are very few things about each other we don’t know. For instance, we can read each others’ moods, get on each others’ nerves, and do the sweetest things for each other, all on purpose.

We love each other a lot, but bicker like an old married couple. We don’t agree on everything, and we’re completely honest about it. I don’t agree when they poop at inconvenient times or refuse to eat their vegetables. They don’t agree when I make them go to bed on time or share their toys. We aren’t afraid to speak our minds. Our family is a safe place, after all.

Having little stooges to share my life with is basically one of the best things I’ve ever decided to do. Now, if they’d just get old enough to swap off driving on our road trips, or pick up the groceries on their way home, we’d be all set.

faith, random thoughts, women

Lean into the Transition

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A few nights ago at our community group (a group of six couples from my church that meet together to have dinner and fellowship every other week) we were talking about seasons of life. Our group is comprised of two (fairly) newly married couples (with no kids), two couples with young kids (ages 0-7) and two couples with older kids (high school-aged or older) so we’re obviously all in different seasons of life.

As I listened to one of the women talk about how she felt like she and her husband were in a period of transition, I realized that she, being five years younger than me, was also almost exactly where I was five years ago: buying their first house in the hopes they’d be there for a long time, not having kids yet, working jobs that may or may not be the ones they stay in forever… I can remember when I was there. The end of my second year teaching, Hubby and I had been married and lived in a rental property for our first year of marriage, and we were looking forward to having a place that was really ours. Not just a place to “squat” for nine months or a year, or a place we’d just move from in a couple of years. We wanted to buy a home to bring kids home to, ya know? And we achieved it, thank goodness.

But I remember well the feeling of moving and moving and moving that you get while you’re in college. Every fall, I moved to NC for the school year. Every summer I moved back to GA for a couple of months. After graduation, I lived with two of my girlfriends for a little less than a year. Then I moved into the little house Hubby and I lived in right when we got married. After that, after six years and back and forth and to and fro, Hubby and I settled. And here we still are, five years later, happy as can be in our wonderful house in our favorite neighborhood.

I’m not jealous of her stage of transition at all.

But we’ve got our own transitions. Our kids are always growing and changing, and we’re adding a new member to our family in July. We haven’t moved, but we just went through several months of a home renovation (and let me tell you, that felt like an eternity of “in limbo”). I stopped teaching and started leading worship, and Hubby started working at a recording studio. These are all transitions… even if they aren’t as big as some other ones.

I am thankful each day for the season of life I’m in. There are days I’m frustrated and exhausted with it, but most days, I’m happy. I get to spend a ton of time with Hubby and our kids, I’m doing a part-time job that I love, living in a home I enjoy, and a circle of wonderful friends and family with whom to share my life. Every transition and change that comes my way might throw me off a little, but instead of turning back and refusing to move forward, I try to lean into the wind. 

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Potty Training Is Hard.

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

I guess the title sorta gives this one away, huh?

I’m not saying anything that tons of parents haven’t said before. The idea that potty training is hard is not new. But for some reason, it really hit home how hard it was when I had my first poop-in-big-girl-panties experience. And then the second.

  
Gross, am I right? Bleaching the underwear, making sure nothing ended up on the floor, trying to firmly scold without shaming said potty trainer… those things are all important. That last one most of all. I feel like I’m stuck in a lame cycle of “Mommy’s so proud you used the potty!” and “We’ll try harder next time.” when what I really want to do is shout, at the top of my lungs, “YOU JUST WENT – WHY DIDN’T YOU POOP THEN?!”

Okay fine. I’ve shouted it. This morning at 8:00am, I shouted it.

I don’t want to shame my daughter. I don’t want to scare her into using the potty. I’d like to her use it for a good reason, like it’s less messy, or it’s more fun (no, that isn’t a stretch). I want to help her do the right thing, whether it’s use that porcelain throne or not bite her brother (I mean, does he taste good or something!?), because she knows to make the right choice, not because she’s scared of what I’ll say or do.

We’re in a season of pushing limits, repeating what I say (THAT is scary, if you’re not a parenting of a talking child yet.) and coming into her own. I’ve learned I have to clean up my mouth, watch my actions, and not project bad feelings onto my kids. She asks if I’m sad or mad when she can tell I’m not happy. And sometimes, I don’t want her to have that feeling put onto her. Sometimes, I don’t really need her to know I’m totally fed up at cleaning her messes when I know good and well she’s able to tell me when she needs to go (she told me once on a farm and used a Port-A-John, for goodness sake). I don’t want her to think I’m disappointed in her.

As for right now, stuck in potty training hell and knowing I’ve got two more rounds to go, I’m trying to set a good example. Not just for the practical side, but also the emotional side. I want to respond to unfavorable situations positively. I want to be an example of grace as I help her correct her mistakes. I want to (figuratively and literally) clean up the mess, and try harder next time. We both need a little grace to be the best we can be.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, pregnancy, siblings

I’ll Miss Just Having Two.

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus! 

I AM SO EXCITED about this third child we’re going to welcome into our family. We prayed for him (a lot… that story is here.) and have been waiting and waiting for him to arrive. We knew we wanted him from the get-go. We’ve always said we wanted three or four kids, so we knew he was in our plan. We were not (all that) surprised when I found out I was pregnant, and we have not been a bit disappointed since finding out. Now. That being said…

I’m going to miss just having two kiddos.


Today, the three of us were on a walk. We were, as always, in my double jogger (Love it. Gotta have it. Couldn’t have lived my life this far without it.) just cruising the neighborhood with snacks and water bottles, talking about the color of the car that just drove by, the kinds of foliage we passed, and enjoying the not-too-hot-yet sunshine. I had a thought as we rounded the corner towards home: Our days doing this are numbered. Not necessarily because we won’t be able to stroll around the neighborhood any more. But because I’ll either be carrying one on my back/front, or letting EK walk beside the stroller (ie: freaking out that she’ll be running into the street at any moment) or having someone else to come with us to push another single stroller or push mine while I wear the baby. Hubby goes on walks with us fairly often, but usually it’s special time for the three of us. Soon, for a little while at least, our walks will be cut short because baby D will need to nurse, or he’ll have a blowout, or I will just plain be too tired for an hour-long walk like today’s.

I know – this seems like a first world problem, along with things like “Do I need to buy a different car to fit all those child seats?” and “It’s going to be tough getting out the door with three jackets and sets of shoes to put on.” I know that these phases are short. The time with these kids being so young and needy will fly, and I may even look back and wish it was still here.

But my walk this afternoon with my two amazing, curious, adorable sweeties shed some light on my feelings and changed how I’ll look at these last 12 weeks before my due date. I won’t try to rush through them. I won’t spend all my time preparing for the next baby – like I would have been able to anyway, right? I’ll be thankful for the time that I can lavish on my eldest two. I’ll cherish the one-on-one time I have with J while EK is at preschool. I’ll enjoy the long walks with just the two of them. I’ll love the girls’ lunch dates I like to have with just EK, or sometimes a girlfriend or two. I’ll love playing on the floor, amidst the giggles and tickles, right before bedtime. I’ll do everything I can with my two before I’ll be splitting my attention with another little sweetie who needs me.