Tag Archives: faith

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, siblings

5 Reasons Having 3 Under 4 Is Awesome and Terrifying

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

Having small children is amazing. It’s amazing if you think endless piles of laundry and cabinets being emptied out onto the floor is amazing. It’s amazing if you think snuggles all day every day and being able to make all their sadness go away is amazing. I’ll let you choose which definition you think I like more.

With three children under the age of four, I’m challenged with keeping little bodies safe, fed, clean and happy. They depend entirely on me for those things. You take for granted how easy it is to keep yourself safe, fed, clean and happy – especially if you’ve got a messy child, or a child going through a growth spurt, or a child who is too brave for his own good. Here are a few reasons I think that having three little children depending on you is difficult:

  1. Mobility. You’re always trying to keep track of who can reach what and how quickly and in what way. I’ve got a three year old daughter who basically has her run of the house. There’s pretty much nothing she can’t get to. If she’s too short, she moves a chair to give her a boost. I have an almost two year old son who is a thief. He can find pretty much anything I hide or keep out of sight. I have a two month old son who is completely immobile… for now. But the first time he rolls over? Gone are the days of sitting him on our bed while I get things done. When will he roll over? I hope I don’t find out the hard way.
  2. Car Seats. I’ve got three children in large, five-point harness car safety seats. That means I have to drive a car big enough to accommodate this. Just before we had our third, we sold my Camry (2003, baby!) and got a (large-ish) mid-size SUV, complete with captain’s seats and a third row. It is enough room to fit all three seats, and even hold another adult back there somewhere, but I’m realizing how annoying it is that not a single one of my kids can buckle themselves in. I have to strap in each and every one of them when we get in the car, including the ones in the back row. Heaven forbid I’m wearing a dress, or the neighbors get a show while I’m getting the kids in the car.
  3. Meal Time. This, all things considered, isn’t as bad as it could be. Most of the time, my big kids are great eaters. They eat what Hubby and I eat, almost without fail. My youngest is obviously not eating, but taking bottles, so he needs someone to feed it to him, unless we time it to happen right before or after. But when the rest of us sit down to eat, there are two main issues. My threenager can’t sit in her chair for more than 90 seconds at a time (We end up threatening to throw her food away. She knows she has to be finished to get up, so if she’s up, we “assume she’s finished” and tell her we’re throwing the food away) and my not-quite-two year old eats great for most of the meal, and when he’s done, his plate and the rest of the food hit the floor immediately, with no warning. Hubby and I share meal duty: one is always convincing EK to stay seated, and the other is always on the lookout for flying food/utensils from J.
  4. Lack of Self-Sufficiency. Sometimes, I take for granted how self-sufficient EK is. At 3 1/2, she usually goes to the bathroom by herself, she can dress herself, feed herself (if I make the food, of course), move herself around (with less concern about her running off) and basically entertain herself. With J, I’m still changing his diapers, dressing him (he’s at least getting more helpful with that), making sure he doesn’t run away, fall off something, or spill my favorite nail polish all over my bedroom floor (oh wait, that happened last week). And D? Well obviously at two months old I’m doing everything for him. I don’t mind – really, I don’t. But sometimes, it’s nice to go out to lunch with mygirlfriends and not have to order their food, ask them not to spill their water in their laps, and keep them from throwing the plate in the floor when they’re done. I don’t even have to take them to the potty!
  5. Bedtime. Every single one of them needs (or thinks they need) a long one-on-one with both parents at bedtime. They all also need (or think they need) to go to bed around the same time. We end up tag-teaming. We have a pretty good routine, but especially now that we’ve added a third kid with the same bedtime into the mix, we have had to get creative. Rotating through rooms, lullabies, soothing promises of tomorrow, and a little extra screen time have saved us from heartache, but also lengthened the time between family dinner and grown up freedom considerably.

My family is good crazy, needy and wonderful. Each day is an adventure, full of giggles, snuggles, messes and walking really slowly. Just surviving a day is the most hilarious, challenging, and heartwarming thing I could ever do.

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

Don’t Forget the Sweet Moments

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

 Have you ever had one of those moments where your heart is so full that you think it might explode? One of those moments when you first realize you’re sure about the one you love? One of those moments that your children are playing nicely together and it makes you want to have another? One of those moments where everything in your life is just so, and you think, “All right, I’ve made it; it’s perfect.” Well I had one of those moments the other day.

My mom was in town for a visit, and she was rolling around on the floor playing with my oldest two kids, each dressed up in costumes (a princess and Mr. Incredible, of course). I had a sleeping two month old on my chest, and I was just gazing at my family, loving everything that was happening. I was looking at my little brood, and thinking, oh my gosh this is a lot, but I love it. My heart and my uterus were teaming up and battling against my mind on the grounds that we should have another. Obviously, I’m not thinking about that yet. (Cue my husband running for cover.) However, my heart was so full of love for the three little tinies I had helped create, playing so happily with my mom, making silly noises, and giggling till their hearts content. As Gary Chapman might say, this afternoon “filled up my love tank”.

I often get caught up in how difficult my days can be. Instead of appreciating things like giggles or silly mispronunciations, I can be bogged down by the messes or the shouts of “No!” when I ask someone to do something. I can feel like all I heard during the day were cries, even though that really isn’t true. I can look around my house, and think that nothing was accomplished. My sink is full of dishes. My sofa is full of laundry waiting to be folded. My bed isn’t made. My toilets have a ring in the bowl. But I should remember that moment of my children rolling on the floor giggling with my mom, and the feeling of a baby sleeping soundly on my chest. Life won’t always be easy; no one has ever argued that. But it won’t always be tough, either. Remembering each positive moment, committing to memory the sweet times and kind words, that will help the tough times seem not so bad.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, women

Doing Life Together

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

As humans, we are made for community. God created man, and then said he needed a companion. We need each other. We have the ability to help each other, enjoy each other, and make each other better people. There are countless cliches about community and being together: “It takes a village.” and “Two heads are better than one.” and “Birds of a feather flock together.” They show just how much we are meant to be with other people.

In the world of moms, there has been much talk recently of having or finding your “mom group”. Frequently that group is labelled a “tribe”. Tribe is an old word that’s making a reappearance in our culture. It makes me think of a bunch of people literally living together, in huts within a few hundred feet of each other, nomads even. Webster defines tribe as “a group of people that includes many families and relatives who have the same language, customs, and beliefs”.

Well, that’s really what it is, right? People living together, in similar stages of life, in at least semi-close proximity, surviving the trenches of parenting and doing life together. And – thank goodness! – those people I’ve got! My tribe won’t bat an eye when I call to ask about a weird-looking poop, or with questions about how to deal with my preschooler’s attitude. My tribe will come over to help us escape the rainy day (week!) boredom or meet us at the park to get the blues out of our systems. My tribe doesn’t think I’m a bad mom when we’re having Chick-fil-A for the fourth time this week.

It’s not always easy to find your tribe, but once you’ve got it, it’s a relief. It’s a great feeling to have someone you can chat with while the crazy swirls around you. It’s nice to be totally real, unaffected, and just plain relaxed around someone. Those people may be few and far between. Those people may be those you least expect. But be brave – strike up conversations, seek out those around you. Find your tribe. You were made to be a part of one.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

I Said Yes

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

As the mom to young kids, I say no a lot. I say no to everything from throwing food on the floor and drawing on the wall to hitting siblings and screaming in restaurants. I feel like I only have negatory words in my vocabulary; let’s not do that, don’t touch those, and no, thank you.

So this morning, when I went out with my daughter, I decided I would say yes as much as I could. Could we have smoothies for breakfast? Yes! While we are shopping in Old Navy, could she choose a new dress. Yes! Could she wear it to church tomorrow? Yes! Could she ride the choo-choo? Yes!

Just a few simple yeses went a long way. Most of them were ones I would’ve said yes to anyway. We needed to have breakfast, so why not smoothies? I knew we were going to look for a couple of fall dresses for her at Old Navy, so when she chose her favorite, of course I said yes. And her favorite yes of the day was easily the train ride.  

 What looked to me like a silly little “train” driven by a bored-looking fellow was a wonderful surprise to my three year old, train-obsessed daughter. We rarely go to the mall (who has time to drag kids through the mall on a regular basis?!) so I didn’t even know train riding was a possibility. We were both surprised, and while $3 a piece to ride a thing made to look like a train for a 4 minute trip around a quarter of the mall seemed like a waste, it made my daughter’s day. She was so ecstatic about being on a train that she wanted our picture taken, her picture taken, and she still has the tickets the conductor gave us in her room. 

 It felt incredible to be able to say yes. I often get weary of not letting my kids have the answer they want. It’s not much fun to say no all the time, because I really do want them to do and have everything. It’s even worse saying no when they’re too young to understand that I have their best interest in mind. So today, saying yes felt especially good, both to me and to EK.

When we are asking the Father for something, really, really hoping for it, but it isn’t what He has for us, we don’t like getting no as the answer. But He wants to give us a thousand yeses, wonderful blessings better than whatever we could think to ask for. Our Heavenly Father knows what we need better than we can understand, and so he tells us no sometimes. He gives us a no to make way for the yes.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, women

Clumsy Girls Need Grace

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

Hubby and I always talk about things we hope get passed down to our kids, and things we hope skip right over them. For instance, I had years of braces, but Hubby has naturally straight teeth. Guess which one of those I hope my kids get? Most of those things we talk about won’t manifest until a little later (a couple more years, at least!), but there’s one thing I’ve already seen in my daughter that she got from me…

Her clumsiness.

That actually would be a good royal name for her. More applesauce, Your Clumsiness?

At least once a day, I hear her cry out from across the house. I know nothing major has gone down, because it’s been so frequent that I can pretty much tell you what’s happened. She has stubbed her toe. Almost every single time. Or maybe she dropped something on it, or stumbled off of her plastic, high-heeled princess shoes, or hit her elbow on a doorframe. You know – the usual.

Part of me totally understands. It’s truly frustrating to trip over nothing and have bruises up and down your legs you don’t really remember getting. It’s a pain (ha ha, right?) to bump knees and elbows and toes on everything that sticks out one millimeter. It stinks to be a little less coordinated than the average (already uncoordinated) three-year-old. But the rest of me knows I have one job: teaching her that every little bump or bruise (or thing that doesn’t go her way) can’t be a big deal.

That’s where I’m a fault. Sometimes, I’m the one who makes a giant deal out of a spill, or a crash of something breakable. I’m the one who shouts in pain when I stub my toe – or like this morning, when I hit my knee getting in the car, and exclaimed, “Ouch! I think I broke my leg!” I hit it pretty hard, okay?!

It just isn’t practical to make a huge deal out of a stubbed toe. Or spilled milk. Or a bruised elbow. These things are going to happen, and she and I both need a lesson in patience and shrugging things off. We sometimes bring out the worst in each other, making big deals of things we shouldn’t. But it’s a learning process. I’m hoping to teach her to let it go earlier than I learned – because I’m obviously still working on it even now.

I know that what we need is grace. We need a reminder that we aren’t perfect, we will never be perfect, and it’s okay that way. If we were perfect, we wouldn’t need the love and blood of a Savior to redeem our imperfections. Because we screw up, we react poorly, and then we feel guilt about it, we are human. And humans need Jesus to cover their sins and screw ups with amazing grace. A lesson in grace for my clumsy girl is also a lesson in grace for me.

faith, My Big Jesus

The Life of a New Mom

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When you have a baby, certain things fall to the wayside for a few weeks (months?) that used to matter a little more. There are the normal things, like sleeping and eating. There are also things like laundry and other chores that you fall behind on. There are still more things that you neglect, often about yourself, that it takes you a while to get back into. I’m finding this out, once again, after the birth of my third child. Here are a few of the things I’ve been neglecting for the past six weeks:

Showers. It seems a little gross that you are neglecting these, but honestly, if you have half an hour to yourself, you’ll probably nap (or let’s be honest: sneak out and get a latte) instead of shower. Just being honest.

Beauty routines. The careful steps you took to put on your make up, the way you’d do your hair before you left the house, and the polish on your nails? Say goodbye. I have chipped nail polish from weeks ago, and I barely slap on the mascara every 5 times I leave the house. My hair gets washed every couple of days, and brushed… after I get out of the shower. Oops.

Haircuts. Speaking of hair, this is one of my biggest bummers about neglecting myself for a few weeks. As a person with short hair, I like to get it done about every six weeks, or else it gets super shaggy and it looks like I’m trying out a new (horrible) hair style. It’s been about 9 weeks since I’ve had a haircut, and I’ve stopped checking the back of my head in the mirror at any point. Ignorance is bliss. Oh, I have a giant cowlick back there? That means I actually slept a little last night!

Food. I don’t mean eating it… I mean making sure you have it. And also making sure it’s not rotten. And I hate being wasteful. We’ve run out of milk a few times (not good for my little napping babes) and eggs and bread once or twice as well. But somehow we recently had so many bananas that I ended up freezing the overripe ones for smoothies (because no one wants to eat a mushy banana) and I just threw out three molding peaches (disgusting) and some would-be-delicious leftovers that had been there since… I just don’t know how long. We have completely lost our balance for grocery shopping and food consumption.

Friends. I’ve been trying to do well here, but I’m sorry if I slipped. I’ve definitely texted a few of you a few times. That’s something, right? And several of you have brought us meals, you blessed souls. It’s nice to see a familiar face around here that isn’t asking me to change its diaper or feed it ice cream.

Knowledge of the outside world. Hey, is there some kind of election coming up? Wasn’t there some sport that just had a tournament or got a new outfit thingy? What season is it, again? I can’t even remember the day of the week…

Prayer life. Where I usually try to be very intentional about reading my Bible and choosing something or someone to pray for, recently my prayers have been all but limited to, “Please God, let the baby stay asleep.” and “Dear Lord, please let us have a few more diapers stashed around here somewhere.” Or my personal favorite: “Thank you, Lord, for my kids! And now, bed time!”

 

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, parenting fails, women

He Will Come Through

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

 After a particularly difficult day with my three-year-old (that wasn’t helped by a fussy one-and-a-half-year-old who thinks it’s time to learn how to throw a proper tantrum), it was finally bedtime, and I was exhausted. I could tell the kids had had enough of me, and I had had enough of them. I hate those days that I haven’t done my best. I wasn’t the best mom to them. I didn’t use the kindest words or have the most patience – or honestly, much patience at all. The fun things I planned seemed to go awry almost immediately. Meals I prepared weren’t liked. The way I tried to fix problems didn’t work. Everything just… sucked.

After my son was down in his crib, I went into my daughter’s room. I said, “You know that I love you, right?” Head nods… with a smile, even! “You know that even when I’m angry or I’m sad, I still love you?” More nodding and smiling… then a jump into my arms.

Y’all, I couldn’t buy that forgiveness. I couldn’t buy that redemption from my difficult, beloved daughter at the end of a crappy day. I melted, tears dripping into her hair, thankful beyond words for the most perfect example of “forgive and forget”. She reminded me that though I fail, I’m still her mama, and she still wants and needs my love.

Just like her forgiveness, I also needed forgiveness for a failed day. My sin was so heavy, weighing on my mind and my heart, and my guilt was even worse. I needed a forgiving Father to smile and nod and tell me He still loved me, too. I hit my knees at the end of that day, begging Him to drag me out of the rut I couldn’t get out of on my own, begging for a reset of my attitude. He comes through, y’all. If you let Him, He comes through. It’s not easy, and often, it’s not pretty. But He comes through.

mommyhood, pregnancy, siblings

5 Predictions About Life With 3 Kids

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!
As I’m down to my last couple of weeks before baby #3 arrives, I am forced to think of what life will be like when he gets here. With a 3 year old, a 1 1/2 year old, and a newborn, I think it’s safe to say craziness is about to ensue. Here are a few more predictions of what might be happening:

There will be an (obvious) increase in laundry. I already do approximately one load per day with the four of us. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I do one complete load every single day… it often means I do five loads in one day, and take a few days off. But it would seem as though adding a person (no matter how tiny) will make it even more so. For instance, if this kid is like my other two, there will be one more swaddle per day to wash, and that’ll basically be an entire load a week of just swaddles. Sheesh.

There will be fewer showers/baths. I’m guessing I’ll cheat on the kids’ bedtime routine some nights (usually we do baths just before bed) and take baths out of the equation. I probably won’t shower as often, due to another person clinging to me. All around, that’s some water saved (that we’ll use on laundry).

We will be eating more takeout. What can I say? It’s just easier. Am I right? We can try to keep it healthy… you know… takeout salad and such.

I will be (even more) forgetful. I’m fully prepared to enter into the stage of “Did I brush my teeth today?” and “I thought I put my car keys right here!” and “When exactly is the last time I shaved my legs?” This pregnancy has been an indicator of that. It happens a little more with every kid, they say (at least I think they do). Pregnancy brain is nothing to joke about, but when I’m keeping up with three younguns, I just can’t be surprised that I’m still looking for the… for the… well, for whatever it is I’m always losing.

My heart will be too full to describe. Y’all, I already know this one is true. I’m already full-to-bursting with love for these little guys, so I can’t imagine what meeting the next one will do. I may just explode with happiness! You know, after I remember where I keep the coffee cups and wade my way through the umpteenth load of laundry. Love. It’ll all be about love.

faith, My Big Jesus, women

Happy to Say “I Do”

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus! 

When Hubby and I got engaged, we both, separately and together, got bits of advice from tons of people, such as “When you’re married, spontaneity stops.” or “Your life is over.” or “You don’t have as much fun.” For us, that simply wasn’t true. We didn’t stop hanging out with our single friends, we didn’t stop going out and partying, and we didn’t feel like our lives were over. Quite the opposite, actually.

There’s been a little meme floating around that I’ve seen floating around the Internet recently:

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It’s a bit cheesy, but I love it! I think it’s very true for me… I would’ve loved to not date the guys who didn’t treat me well or weren’t matched well with me. I would’ve loved to not have to wait as a single gal while my friends started finding their forevers. I would’ve loved to know Hubby was right there, beside me, long before he was there in reality.

But when we got married, life started. I was thrilled to come home to him each day, knowing that he loved me well and we would do something fun together that evening – because anything I did with him was fun. We got to know each other better and better, and loved each other more and more. We traveled, worked and played. We talked of buying a home and starting a family, and then we did those things! All the while he has prayed for me and loved me well, even in the moments that I don’t do the same for him.

Do we have the perfect marriage? No, I’m sure we don’t. There are always things to work on, and our lives are constantly changing. But a marriage is made of choices. I can choose to be frustrated first, or be understanding first. I can choose to say unkind words, or kind ones. I can choose to believe the best in my husband. I can choose to raise the bar and know he will reach it, because he’s awesome and as his wife, I can encourage and support him.

I know that with six years under our belts, we aren’t veterans at marriage, or qualified to give advice. But I can give encouragement: marriage is a gift, and love is a choice. If you treat them as such, you’ll probably find that they’re easier and more fun than you expected. Even with your third kid on the way, drowning in laundry, doing your best to keep up with just the basics of life, you can be ridiculously happy in your marriage, and genuinely look forward to the rest of your lives together.

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.