Tag Archives: love

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.

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

A Letter to Myself Before I Became a Mother

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Dear innocent, young girl,

I want to write you, even though I know you’ll never see it. But maybe it will make us both feel better, and let us share a little of ourselves with each other. Oh, if you only knew what’s coming. I could tell you so many things, but you wouldn’t even want to hear them right now. It’s difficult to understand the lifestyle, the struggles, all of the feels that you will experience later. You might even have a chuckle or two (or hearty laugh, actually) at some of the things coming for you.

But in lieu of us having a little laugh at my (our) expense, I thought I’d give a piece or two of advice. You know, a friendly few suggestions to maybe try out before you get to where I am now: wading through a pile of children on my way to the bathroom in the morning, hearing shouts floating up the stairs before I’ve even heard my alarm (by the way, my alarm is a crying baby). Here are my three big pieces of advice:

1. Sleep late. I know you do already, or I wouldn’t know how much you’d miss it. But do it more often, as often as possible. And you know what else? Go to bed early. I know you’re a night owl and you love staying awake in the wee hours, but just try it out once or twice. You might find that you like it!

2. Travel. You don’t have any idea how cheap and easy it is to go places right now. It will be again, but not for a while. Get out there into the world beyond your town. Visit friends that live far away, go to different time zones while your body can spring back easily, get on an airplane without any tag-alongs (and I don’t mean Girl Scout cookies), eat fancy food, visit museums and see shows. You’ll find that each of these things is either more expensive, more difficult, or altogether impossible, at least for a little while. Travel enough now to save up some memories until your children are older and you’re not using your paycheck on diapers.

3. Sow seeds. This seems broad, but it can be specifically applied to three areas: your family, your friends, and your career. You will be busy when you’ve got little ones. And not any sort of busy that you’ve ever experienced. You won’t have much time to build new relationships, so sow good seeds into the family and friends you’ve got now. You want them to stick around during that time when you’re largely an unshowered, frazzled mess, alive solely because of coffee. They’ll be forgiving (and even helpful!) because you’ve spent years loving them well when you had the time and energy for it. Your career will thank you as well. Work hard and long while you don’t have those little ones who need you at home. You’ll build a base of trust and integrity, and likely receive grace later when you have a sick babe or preschool play to attend.

The last thing I’ll say, free and childless one, is when you do get ready for children, and you are expecting one of your own, don’t brush off what those mothers you meet will tell you. New mothers, old mothers, working mothers, stay-at-home mothers will all impart wisdom to you in their own way. Sometimes, you won’t know why they need to tell you those ridiculous things, or scare you with their labor stories, or be the hundredth woman to tell you, “Oh, just wait!” They’re all right; what they say will be true at some point during your mothering experience. You will be tired, you will get fed up, and you will feel the craziest, strongest, most permanently bonding love you’ve ever felt about anything. Open your heart to it, because it’s the best thing you’ll ever feel.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, women

The Boy I Loved. 

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!  
Not that long ago, I was a silly, young girl, head over heels for a boy I had just met. Not long ago, that boy was a breath of fresh air to a girl who’d sworn off dating for a while. Not long after that, the boy and girl decided they’d get married. And buy a house. And have kids. And never sleep again. 

Really, 8 1/2 years -since we met- isn’t long in the grand scheme of things. But it feels like an eternity sometimes, when I think of what’s happened since then. When I think of places we’ve traveled, jobs we’ve had, people we’ve grown closer to or drifted apart from, it feels like a lifetime already lived. There’s so much water under that bridge we’ll have to raise it if anything else happens. 

But every now and then, there are glimpses of the silly, young girl and the boy who was a breath of fresh air. For instance, last week, Hubby and I had a lovely date night planned, going to a nice restaurant in the neighboring city where Hubby attended college before seeing a concert. Long (frustrating) story short, dinner at the nice restaurant didn’t work out, and we were a little too pressed for time to try making new plans. We ended up at a pizza and beer joint where we ordered dinner by the slice at a counter, and ate in a dirty booth. Not that I had anything against pizza and beer (I love it! Promise!), it just wasn’t what we’d had in mind. We were dressed up and ready for a fancy meal. But you know what? We had a great time. We’d gone to that pizza joint a hundred times while we were dating, with and without friends, and it was a fun little throwback to our younger, freer selves.

You know what else? After a couple of hours of music and dancing, before we headed back home to responsibilities and a babysitter to pay, we went to the location of our first “hang out.” (I’m hesitant to even call it a date.) We ended up right there in another dirty booth, eating gargantuans at the Jimmy John’s on the edge of his college campus. We giggled and flirted and touched our feet under the table with butterflies in our tummies, remembering who we had been 8 1/2 years ago. We reminisced about those old times, and talked about how we love where we are right now, even when it’s hard. 

I looked right across the table and into the eyes of the boy I loved. And I was thrilled to see that my husband looked just like him. 

faith, holidays, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Some Assembly Required

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus!

I had a lovely experience with Christmas this year. My two oldest kids are old enough to really appreciate more complicated toys and notice when things are a little different. I spent a few hours setting up for Christmas morning, and making sure everything looked “just so”. I even made my brother help me with the Lego village. 

So naturally, on the eve of my son’s birthday, only 3 days after Christmas, I abhorred the fact that I was already wrapping more boxes and assembling a birthday celebration. This feeling was even more pronounced since I had bought a special surprise for him months ago, that I imagined being the favorite birthday gift. 

A friend of mine had bought a teepee for her son, on sale and very nice. Online, it looked similar to a pop-up tent thing my daughter has (in the shape of a princess castle of course) that J loves, so I thought it would be the perfect compliment to that. The box arrived amid several other Christmas gifts, so I put the entire box away to open later when I prepared for his birthday. 

Tonight, when my kids got in bed, I began to look at the Christmas crazy left from the last few days of slowly dwindling house guests and overflowing bins and boxes of stuff. I’m supposed to host a birthday party tomorrow?! I don’t care how small it’s supposed to be, that’s a little bit of pressure. So naturally I run the vacuum half-heartedly and pick up miscellaneous items from new toy sets and one thousand little scraps of wrapping paper I had so carefully folded and sparingly taped. And then… I remember the teepee.

I retrieved the box from the garage, and got to work. I’ve got a few choice pictures of my progress…  

 When I took it out of the box, I was surprised to find wooden poles. What happened to that pop-up tent I ordered? Along with the poles there was treated canvas. Was this thing an actual tent?! Is he, at some point in the future, going to ask me to camp in this thing?!

So, I got to work, in the middle of the living room floor, glass of wine close by for moral support. The directions seemed simple: Twist poles together. Put poles into inserts in canvas. Tie poles and grommets in canvas together. Enjoy your tent. Easy! 

 Forty-five long minutes later, I call my mom upstairs to help me tie knots, and we stand back and look at our newest abode within an abode. I could probably curl up and sleep in this thing. J is gonna LOVE it. I had envisioned it in his room. I’ll probably still let him keep it there, but it’s gonna be tight.  

 Moral of the story? J will love it. And I would do anything for my son, especially on his birthday, that I think he will love. Even after a week of crazy has just happened, I will open my home to even more crazy, because he deserves to be celebrated. I love him for who he is, but also (mostly) because he is my sweet, beloved son. Will he remember his second birthday? Nope. Will his adult self remember an awesome, surprisingly durable, traffic cone-like teepee? Maybe not. But will he remember the love his mama put into everything that had to do with him? I sure hope so. 

If I can love my silly, sweet middle child so much, after only two years, that it brings tears to my eyes, how much more can my Father, creator of the cosmos and author of my destiny, love me? I may be sweet, I am definitely silly, and I often feel lost in the shuffle, but I always know that I have the deep, secure love of a Father who would do anything to make me whole. 

faith, mommyhood, random thoughts, women

When You Just Can’t Find a Single Thing You Do Right

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This week, one of my blogger friends posed a question on her Facebook page. She was calling out to the moms in her community, asking them to speak positively about themselves. It was truly a wonderful opportunity for moms to brag on themselves for a bit, because that never happens. She basically said this: What’s one thing you do really well? I just want to hear you say something positive about yourself as a mom.

When I read it, I was giving the baby a bottle, putting him down for his nap. I had been scrolling through my Facebook feed, waiting for him to drop off into unconsciousness, so that I could lay him down. My bigs were already napping, and this was about to be my glorious hour or two of quiet freedom.

What’s one thing I do really well as a mom? Get them to nap at the same time so that I can have a moment of sanity. Oh wait, that’s really selfish. How about the fact that I’m great at getting a workout and a shower in every other day? Well, that still benefits me, not them.

All of a sudden, my mind is reeling and tears are coming to my eyes. Why can’t I think of a single thing I do well for my children? All I can think of are the basics. They’re clothed. They’re fed. They’re (relatively) clean. Well, that doesn’t make me a good mom… that’s the bare minimum. I can’t think of a single thing that I do as a mom that’s outstanding. I know so many other mothers who fall into that category. I’m often short-tempered and easily stressed out. Do those things count?

The more I think, the more I realize that as a mom, and as a woman (and a southern woman in particular), I’m trained to just try to be better. Not to recognize something I do well. I should be humble, hard-working, and put together. I shouldn’t be focused on what I do well – those things don’t need attention. The things that need attention are the things that need improvement. That’s where I should put my focus, right?

I agree with trying to be my best self. I agree with seeing that there may be things about myself that I can improve, change for the better. But I should be able to call to mind a thing or two that I do well. Feeding my children healthy food at almost every single meal and snack. Working out with and in front of them, so that they know being healthy is a priority. Spending lots of family time together, at home or out on the town. Reading to them most days and every night. THOSE are things I do well as a mom.

Here’s your encouragement for today. I read the comments on her question. It was lovely things like, “taking my kids to the park a few times a week” and “teaching my daughter sign language” and “listening to my children and taking their words to heart”. Those are truly wonderful things that moms are doing for their kids. Why don’t we give ourselves some slack? We’re doing a great job, moms. Love yourself a little. Give yourself a break. You’re a good mom. I know it.

faith, food, holidays, home, mommyhood, music, random thoughts, women

Hubby Is 30!

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In honor of my amazing, talented, hilarious, handsome, wonderful, giving, loving Hubby’s dirty thirtieth birthday, I’d like to show this little collection of photos…

Before this happened…

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There were these two kids, on the night they met, at a Halloween party (right after the church service they played together)…

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You know, just trying to make scary faces with the cute guy you just met.

They were together a lot after that…

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This is our “college formal” face.

And I mean a lot…

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Our “middle school dance” date. He put a lot of work into that one!

Until one day, he proposed for real…

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This remains the only picture of us from that night. And we’re still making that stupid “college formal” face.

Practiced getting married…

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Post rehearsal dinner shenanigans.

And really did it…

This is totally characteristic of our relationship.
This is totally characteristic of our relationship.

Then we bought a house…

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We bought our house on the way to the airport to go to Italy. Obviously.

Shaved his head for children’s cancer…

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He’s done it several times, but this was the year he also raised $200 for his trashy mustache.

Went to this bar, our favorite bar, for 90 days in a row… three times…

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Finnigan’s Wake will always be home base for us.

And then we got pregnant and had this sweet gal…

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All of a sudden… parents!

I watched him become the most amazing dad…

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They’re still besties.

And then we did that a time or two more…

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I’m a little bit pregnant with J in this one…
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And I’m a LOT pregnant with him here.
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And here I’m a couple weeks away from having D!

With a few breaks for being awesome in between…

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Singing in his wedding band was still one of the most fun nights of my life!
Just a little family partying.
Just a little family partying.

All in all, I wouldn’t do life any differently or with anyone else. Hubby’s my rock. He’s my personal chef, my confidant, my treasured friend, my only lover, my companion, my “I need to tag out!” or “I can’t do this alone!” rescuer. He is my everything, and I can’t wait to spend the next thirty years with him. 30 looks good on you, babe. Happy birthday.

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, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, siblings, Uncategorized

Like I Have Known Him Forever

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus. 

Have you ever had a person in your life that you just met, but you already feel like you’ve known each other forever? Right when you meet them, you realize you’ve got tons in common and your personality complements the other’s, and you immediately have a few inside jokes?

That’s how I feel about our newest baby.

  
I know. That seems crazy. I don’t know if we’ve got much in common besides genes. We don’t have any inside jokes yet. But I already feel like I’ve known him for ages, like I know him well and love him with a older love, an aged love, a love that’s stood the test of time – for more than his month of being out in the world.

You see, I didn’t feel so strongly this way with my other two kids when they were born. With our first, she was new. Everything about her was uncharted territory, from the sound of her cry in the middle of the night to the way we thought about her all the time and planned our lives around her. With our second, he was just a different baby. Not easier or harder than our first, but already our attention was split between the two and it was a huge adjustment. He naturally went with the flow of life that we had going before he arrived. It was his only choice, and he still is that way – a lot like his dad.

But now, having welcomed our third baby into the world and into our family, he feels like he’s always been with us. He snuck in, early one morning, after months of anticipation. His siblings immediately loved him, and are ever so gentle with him (excepting J sometimes… he wants to love him hard). His schedule is flexible, his personality a little mix of all of us. He gets hangry (an affectionate nod to his siblings), he’s strong (I’m looking at you, Hubby) especially for a newborn, and he loves snuggling (just like me) even to the point of preferring to be worn than be laid down. He is alert, like his sister was, and sleeps hard like his brother did. He looks simply like himself, instead of being one of us made over.

Of course there are times that we feel overwhelmed – such as thinking about the sheer amount of laundry a newborn adds. There are nights of way too little sleep, and mornings that packing the kids in the car and driving through Chick-fil-A for biscuits is easier than cooking for them. There are naps I wish I was taking and showers everyone else wishes I was taking. But all in all, we don’t feel like he’s an addition of any sort, not a stranger or an outlaw. He feels like he should be here, like he’s always been here. His one month of life with us has been incredibly fun, surprisingly not difficult, and a blessing indeed. For a kid who we were afraid we’d never meet, he sure is the perfect little fit for our family.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, women

To My Kids: Sometimes I Cry

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This post also appeared on My Big Jesus. 


Sometimes, at the end of a particularly trying day with you guys, I cry. I’m overwhelmed with all the feelings, with exhaustion, with knowing I’ll get up and do it all again tomorrow. So sometimes, there’s nothing to do but cry.

I cry selfishly for the fact that the day took so many hours to be over.

I cry because I don’t know if the choices I made were the right ones.

I cry because I don’t know if you felt loved enough, cherished enough, hugged and kissed enough.

I cry from sheer exhaustion, as I literally fall into bed, having nothing left for your dad but tears.

I cry because I was so frustrated over a hundred little things that went “wrong”.

I cry because I didn’t rejoice enough over the things that went right.

I cry because it’s okay to feel sad, to feel scared, to feel angry, or to feel lonely.

I cry because I’m so full of love and happiness, I can’t express myself any other way.

I cry because I’m so grateful to have tomorrow to start over.

You see, every day, I do my best. For better or for worse, my best is different every day. Sometimes, my best is not letting you do something that you want to do, because it’s a poor choice. Sometimes my best is ice cream for dinner. Sometimes, my best is a perfectly planned day, with healthy snacks and meals, fun play dates, great naps and lasting memories made. Sometimes, my best is losing my patience with you, and having to apologize. But always, always, I love you. Because I love you, because I care so much about you, I sometimes have a reason to cry. And that’s okay.

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.