Category Archives: women

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts, travel, women

He Could Be My Son. 

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Mahmoud Raslan/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images

This boy – five years old – having seen more than many children will see in their entire lives, has shocked our country into realizing and responding to the terror and violence wreaking Syria. It might have been easy to turn away from the information we get via television and the internet, when the headlines are often focused on the latest Trump-ism or Bieber folly.  But this photo, this one viral image of a dusty, bloody boy, tiny and scared, in the back of an ambulance, has been burned into my psyche. 

He could be my son. 

He could be a nephew, a neighbor, a classmate. He is all of those things, even if not my own. He is torn from his home by a futile attempt to force Syrian citizens into submission by the radical government regime. All the effort does is harm, maim, and kill. 

He could be my son. 

He could be one of hundreds, thousands. Displaced, alone, wandering. They might be hungry, thirsty, and tired. They are struggling to take even one more step towards just the possibility of freedom. 

He could be my son. 

He could be my very own boy, ripped from me by an air strike. He could be my son, and I could be torn from him by rescuers who can only save a few. He could be my son, my only possession worth saving, and I would die for him a hundred times over. He could be your son, dirtied, bruised, bloodied, scared to death. 

Silent. 

He could be my son. 

Please consider giving what you can to a local and specific relief effort. Here is a short list (there are many more!) of organizations taking donations of any size:

Karam Foundation 

Hand In Hand for Syria

Mercy Corps

Migrant Offshore Aid Station

If you can’t give, do what we can all do: pray. 

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, my journey as a mother, women

It Is Important. 

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus. 

 Sometimes, at the end of the day, I look back and can’t think of a single thing that happened. I can’t think of anything I accomplished, or anything that was done.  There isn’t a checklist that got finished, or a project that was completed. I mean, I made meals that were at least partially eaten, and then I probably cleaned the rest off the floor.  I made bottles, changed diapers, maybe took the kids to the park. I might have helped with some craft, or at least handed out markers and paper. I probably turned on a movie, folded a load of clothes, or filled and ran the dishwasher.

Those things are so mundane to me sometimes. And often, they’re littered with scoldings, time-outs, or even shouting. Sometimes there are tears- theirs and mine. I get wrapped up in the second-to-second happenings: “He called me a name!” and “She pushed me!” I can’t let those things go unaddressed, lest they happen ten times more often. But I tire of punishing and reprimanding and repeating my pleas to “apologize” and “forgive”. I tire of the endless dirty laundry, and potty breaks with a “buddy”.

I was so overwhelmed by these things that last week at church, survival was my prayer request: day-to-day grace and patience in my crazy-busy, yet accomplishing nothing, stage of motherhood.

The gal who prayed for me, sweet woman that she is, happened to know exactly where I was – really knew. She not only prayed straight through to my soul as a fellow believer, but as a mother who had been (fairly recently, too) exactly where I am. She didn’t offer a cliche about how the days are long and the years are short. She didn’t encourage me to cherish those moments when they need me so much. She said simply that it was hard, she had been there, and I’d survive these intense years. But the biggest thing that hit me was this: the work that I’m doing is important.

Let’s say that together: It. Is. Important.

When I look around my frequently messy home, or catch sight of my often dirty hair, I can be discouraged that I did so much while accomplishing so little. I’ve got grubby handprints on every window in the house, snot on my jeans, and no one has gotten out of their pajamas. Am I even doing it right? But the answer is undoubtedly yes. I am doing it right, because I’m loving my kids, including lovingly disciplining them. I’m doing my best to raise them to be kind, helpful, and independent. I’m giving them endless snuggles, smooches, and hugs. I’m reading them books, and teaching them as much as I know how to teach. I’m praying for them, with them, and in front of them. I’m leading them, hopefully, into a relationship with Jesus. That work is Kingdom work, and it IS important.

 

health and fitness, mommyhood, women

I work out for me. 

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This past week, I noticed that I was angry a lot. I was frustrated about every single thing, big or small, that might normally just annoy me. It’s really hot outside. It’s really hot inside. We’ve been busy, but not really in a fun way. The kids are messy, loud, and getting on each other’s nerves. I’m not getting enough sleep. The 2yo is acting particularly threenagery (let’s just say that’s a word) recently. All of these things are things I can usually take in stride. But the past week or two, they’ve been building up, clogging my good feelings and just plain stressing me out. 

Finally, I realized that I hadn’t been keeping up with my workout routine very well. Now, I’m not an every day-er, or even a certain days of the week-er. Maybe those are the reasons I hadn’t gotten any exercise in. But either way, two weeks of no exercise is not good for me, and I finally realized it. It was time to stop making excuses about my busy schedule and the heat. 

You see, I don’t necessarily put on weight or get flabby from not working out. I mean, if I didn’t for a long time, I’m sure I would. But I don’t immediately see the effects of laziness on my body. (Not that a SAHM mom of three under five should in any sense be seen as “lazy”.) But I temporarily forgot that my body, my mind, my soul, all need some exercise. 

Working out isn’t something I personally do to see a magic number on a scale, fit into a certain size, or or achieve a certain “goal” (screw the thigh gap). I do it for the way it makes me feel. It helps me work through frustration. It helps burn calories and energy, and exhaust me into sleeping better. It sets a healthy example for my family about the importance of exercise. It is “me time”. It sets the tone for my productivity. It even makes me feel great about that glass of wine that’s coming in the evening. In short, makes me feel good. I don’t need a better reason than that! I do it for me. 

mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts, women

8 Reasons I Might Be Getting Old

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus. 

Y’all. I’m 30. I know that isn’t old, and I don’t really feel that old most of the time. I’m in pretty good shape, and I still have lots of friends that are a little younger than me. My kids keep me young, too. But every once in a while, I find myself doing something that makes me think, “Yikes! When did I get so old?!” And then I picture myself with gray-blue hair, in a rocking chair on my porch, yelling at the kids to get off my lawn. Here are a few things that make me feel a little old…

  1. I don’t understand hashtags. I use them. They’re often funny. But why? Do they even do anything on Facebook, or is it just Twitter and Instagram that use them properly? Who even came up with that idea?
  2. My spam folder is full of invites to join LinkedIn. Just for that reason, I won’t be exploring what LinkedIn is. 
  3. What even is Snapchat? Why? I downloaded it so that the kids and I could use those selfie filters to make funny faces. 
  4. I almost never wear heels anymore. No point; my feet hurt, I walk funny, I step on the kids, and it’s all downhill from there. 
  5. I check the weather every morning. No one likes to forget their umbrella and get caught in a downpour. (Cue shouting at the kids about getting a jacket.)
  6. I sometimes get offended by what “young people” are wearing. What do you mean those are considered okay to wear to school?! And no, that doesn’t match. 
  7. I get really frustrated about the state of the outside of my house. Examples: when there is dog poop in my yard (we don’t have a dog), when I miss a patch when mowing the grass, or when my garden needs pruning/weeding and I can’t get it done right then.
  8. I like to go to bed early. This isn’t really a blanket statement; I can late-night hang with the best of them. But if there’s not a real reason to stay up and do anything, I’m out like a light before 10pm. I’m more than happy to hop in bed with my Kindle and fall asleep before I get one paragraph finished. 

If I only did one or two of those things, I’d probably let it slide. But because I do all of them, and the list grows every time I turn around, I’ll just let myself ease into some shoes with orthotics, and drink an Ensure. 

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts, women

But Seriously, Lay Off Already. 

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus.

I promise I’m not trying to push your buttons.

But I am trying to make you think.

Haven’t any parents out there ever lost sight of their toddlers for one second? I definitely have, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I mean, it happened at the farmers’ market on Saturday! I am human… Anytime, any place, that can happen. Young children are unpredictable, and can be downright sneaky. Even the most attentive parents can sometimes struggle to keep their kids within a safe distance. It doesn’t mean you haven’t taught your children enough about what’s safe and what’s not. It doesn’t mean you don’t pay enough attention to them. Young children just don’t have good understanding of what “safe” is, especially when they’ve never had a reason to be scared.

So what I’m really imploring you to do right now is think. What if it was you? Put yourself in the parents’ shoes… Your child fell into the gorilla cage, or was snatched up by an alligator while you were swimming together. Feel the fear, the sheer terror. Feel the guilt, that builds as you learn what the cause and effect of the situation will be. Feel the anger, that you’d like to place on something, someone, other than yourself or your child. Imagine the sadness, the overwhelming physical ache you’d feel if something was to actually happen to your child. 

Now. 

When you’ve felt those feelings, or at least thought about it for a minute, are you mad at the parents? Or are you, like me, feeling sympathetic to their situation. If I lost one of my children, really lost them, I wouldn’t be able to go on. It wouldn’t matter to me your harsh opinions or your reprimands about what I should’ve been doing. 

I would be crushed. 

So if you have judgement to pass, ugly jokes to make, or a rude statement to post as your Facebook status about how that would never happen to your kids… Save it. Swallow it. Oppress the thought, and put yourself in the shoes of someone who has lost a child, for any reason. I promise you wouldn’t care what the reason was. Your life would be forever changed, and you’d be mourning that tiny soul for the rest of your life. 

I don’t have time for your judgement and harsh words. But I do have time for sympathy, prayers, and kindness. 

faith, holidays, home, mommyhood, women

Fathers’ Day

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I’m privileged to be married to the kindest, most patient father there’s ever been. He’s selfless, fun, giving, and loving with our kids, and I couldn’t be prouder to call him ours.


He routinely works late at night, but never complains about being woken up early to give snuggles, read books, or play trains. 

 
He teaches them about life and love and anything they come across. 
He disciplines them when they need it, it strength and love. He cuddles and sings and cooks and reads. He provides for them emotionally and in the physical realm, too. 

In short, I admire him as a dad and as a person. He is ultimate compliment to my crazy, my hard, my mad, and my difficult. He’s the perfect other side to all my personality, my parenting style, and my ever-fluctuating emotions. He is a rock, an encourager, a comedian (and sometimes jester), and a comforter. Happy Father’s Day, Hubby. I love you. 

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts, women

The Mommy Bloggers: Why Are They So Bad?

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I read a disturbing article recently, bashing “mommy bloggers”. Somewhere along the way, we’ve labeled mothers who write, on blogs and/or elsewhere, with an awful name and lumped them into a group together, as if they all have the same goals, ideas, or talents.

I’ve only been writing for a couple of years now, and originally, I thought it would be to make some money. As it turns out, I’ve switched tracks and simply fallen in love with writing. Yes, just the process. I’ve made a little bit of money (not much, truly), and I’ve been published on several sites other than my own, but I don’t think that’s what drives me. I love sharing my life. I love encouraging and positively challenging others. I love sharing the Gospel. I love connecting with other women, parents, writers, and Jesus-followers.

You see, when I started writing my blog, the first thing I did was start reading others’ blogs. Like, a lot of them. So now, I have people whose words I truly admire, aspire to emulate, or simply laugh out loud while reading. I’ve enjoyed getting to know these other writers, and even becoming friends with several of them. I’ve seen their children grow, and their families get larger. I’ve seen hard times fall upon them and I’ve seen them pray and wade themselves back out of them. They have likely seen all these things in my life as well.

What I’ve learned is that other people like to connect, too. We all like to know we aren’t the only ones. We like to see that someone has made it through the stage of life that we feel we are stuck in. Parents really like to connect, because there is often wisdom to be gleaned from other parents, or at the very least, some encouragement that “This too shall pass.” We tend to feel we are stuck in some rut or another, with a tantrum-throwing toddler or an eye-rolling teenager. We love reading that someone else is also dealing with those issues. It reiterates the humanity of the situation for us.

So, “Mommy Bloggers”, I say this to you: I appreciate you. I appreciate your realness, your humor, your honest distress and the encouragement you’ve given. I can only hope that my words and the sharing of my life have encouraged, amused, and provoked thought in you, as well.

holidays, mommyhood, women

8 Things That Are Better Than Hallmark for Mothers’ Day

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We all feel like the pressure is on to give the moms in our lives a spectacular day, filled with presents, good food, and thoughtful words. However, I’ve discovered that this list might make that mom in your life even happier. 
1. Wine. If we go out together and drink it, or if you put a bow on it, I’m happy. 

2. Chocolate. I know this is a gift many moms might receive, but let’s add this stipulation: I don’t have to share it. 

3. Mani/Pedi. I’m always looking for a nice way to spend a couple of hours without my kids. Luckily, this way includes sitting in a massage chair. 

4. A babysitter. Must come with a “use whenever and however you want” clause. 

5. A housekeeping coupon. The next time I don’t want to clean the bathrooms, I’m cashing in. 

6. Gift card for my favorite take out. Because that’s easier and more delicious than grocery stores and cooking on my own. 

7. An adult coloring book. And a set a fine-tip Sharpies. And a few hours alone. It’s amazing how stress-relieving mandalas and kaleidoscopes can be, especially if coupled with #1 or #2. 

And my personal favorite choice:

8. A family fun event… That I don’t have to plan or do the prep for. I love family time and fun outings. But sometimes I run out of ideas of things we can do with the kids, and I burn out on getting everything ready/packed up. If a day of fun was planned out for me, and the kids were already packed? I’d do anything. 

What would you rather have this Mothers’ Day than a cheesy, $5 greeting card?

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts, women

Freedom from My Mommy Guilt

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus! 

Everyone tells you that the third baby is easy. He will be flexible! He will sleep anywhere! He will be calm! He will go with the flow! With my youngest, that’s often true. The sweet little guy loves his siblings, and he never woke up every two hours like newborns often do. He was an easy delivery, and slept through the raucous noises of two toddler siblings from early on.

He is also a mama’s boy. I don’t mean a “sissy”; that’s not a way we have used or will ever use that term in our house. What I mean is that he prefers me above basically any other human. He needs me every few moments. He is happier when he’s close to me. This could be the result of several things. I wear him a lot, mostly because it’s easier and sometimes necessary for survival. He’s also the only baby that I never “went back to work” after. I started my part time jobs back, of course, but he hasn’t experienced me working away from him full time. I’m home with him usually, and we’ve built our life and schedule around me not being away from him more than a few hours. I’ve taken a weekend away from him, and while he was totally fine, he missed me pretty terribly.

Every time we have a day that I don’t see him much (which with our schedule is about once a week), we are bonkers for a few days. It throws off our entire schedule for way longer than just the day I’m gone. He’s extra clingy, sometimes wakes up in the night (when he’s past that stage) and follows me around the house. It’s cute, of course, until I need to get things done and I can’t put him down. And then the Mommy Guilt sets in.

Maybe I shouldn’t stay away from him that long. I should just not take that job. I shouldn’t go on that trip. What if I’m causing him stress? What if he ends up with scarring from my abandonment?!

Hold it right there. What am I doing?! Im not abandoning him! But that’s where the spiraling mommy guilt just led me to think. I’m just placing undue blame on myself. I’m getting worked up, worrying myself to death, and taking responsibility for things that I can’t control. I do my best, but extenuating circumstances are always a possibility. I can’t help when my big kids will need me more in that moment, or when his nap was too short for me to accomplish everything while he was asleep, or when I’m exhausted or sick or stressed. He knows that I love him. No matter the crazy days or time spent away from him,Che is well taken care of, and I’ve made it abundantly clear to him that he is my baby and I’d do anything for him, just like his brother and sister. 

All you do when you give yourself all that blame is distance yourself from the person you can be, the person you already are. Guilt doesn’t become us; there is no need for it. It wastes time and energy, both of which I could be spending on and with my family. My guilt has been ultimately taken care of, and my debts have been paid- even the ones I have yet to owe. Jesus came to release me from guilt and shame, and free me to be exactly who I’m created to be, no strings attached. It is His sacrifice and love that has allowed me to be a woman, wife, mother, friend and follow Him daily. He continues to free me from sin, and free me from myself when I just can’t get out of my own head.  This doesn’t mean I won’t continue to make mistakes, or feel a little guilty sometimes. But with the strength of my Jesus, His guidance and His love, I can get on past that mommy guilt and move on to being the best mommy I can, no matter the circumstances.

home, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, random thoughts, women

Making Parenthood Look Easy 

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!  Recently we attended a fundraiser at a (childless) cousin’s home. The event was a crawfish boil: low-stress, outdoors, and eat-on-your-own-time. She had asked me a couple of weeks beforehand how to make the event more child-friendly, since many of the invites had gone to couples with young kids. I just suggested that being outside was best (their home is historic and beautifully decorated) and that if food was readily available, kids would probably be happy. We brought a playground ball with us, and there was chalk and a few other outdoor games, so there happened to be the perfect amount of entertainment. It was completely delicious, lots of fun, and totally fine for our kiddos to hang in their yard, grab bites off the tables, and draw with chalk on their driveway.

Our family was the biggest with our three children, and the other families with young kids left much earlier than we did. But overall, our kids were still having fun and wandering around munching on corn on the cob well into the evening. After having too much food and a few beers, a gal I’d met that night mentioned to my hubby and me, “You guys make parenthood look so easy.”

Wait.

Who, me?

The mom who gets stressed at missed naps and refused meals? The mom who is OCD and uptight about the state of the house? The mom who is on her own at bedtime twice a week and is weeping into a glass of wine or a dose of NyQuil by 9:30? Yeah, that same mom was “making parenthood look easy” at a neighborhood event where my children ran around like banshees, maybe having fun and maybe making birth control more common.

But that’s the beauty of it, right? There are totally times that things come together, everyone has fun, and it’s easy. That day was actually easy. We played. We ate. We ran around. Hubby and I had adult conversation! It was chilly by the end of the night, and the kids were up past their bedtimes, but their exhaustion was joy-induced. These times are the ones I hang on to when things aren’t easy, when food is thrown, laundry is piled up, and exhaustion isn’t joy-induced, but due to several children not sleeping properly. Those perfectly-executed nights out together, and sweet snuggly mornings after are the ones that remind me all is not yet lost, and the sleep-deprived despair of a mom (carpool driver, cook, and housekeeper) can be redeemed.