Tag Archives: My Big Jesus

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Today is the day.

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  Today is the day. The day that I read scripture before my kids woke up (rare). The day that I resolved to parent with grace (again). The day I made a nice, big, healthy breakfast for everyone. The day I made a really, really great cup of coffee. The day I got a quick workout in after dropping my daughter at preschool.

It is also the day EK “needed five more minutes” before doing every single thing I asked her to do. The day my son took every item out of every drawer in my kitchen. The day Hubby didn’t feel so hot. The day it was so rainy that my motivation to get things done died at the start.

If I laid out every day like this, a moment-to-moment “things that happened” or “things I did”, how disappointed would I be? How many days would I say I had missed the mark, or wasted too many minutes or even hours? I doubt I would be impressed by my daily productivity or nominating myself for the “best executed day” award. (Thank goodness that’s not a thing, by the way.) I probably would no longer even be happy about the things I did accomplish.

But the things I did accomplish go without mention. The fact that my kids are clean, dressed and well-fed, the snuggles and kisses, the number of times I sang the alphabet song, and the fact that I took a shower. These things are on a list of “things moms should do without recognition”, even though these seemingly simple things are the hardest things I do all day. No one knows as well as I do the struggle it is to get pants on my son, or to get ten uninterrupted minutes to wash my hair or shave my legs. There are days that I feel like I should get a medal for doing those things!

Today, in fact, is that day. So, in honor of whatever your today held, here’s your medal – a medal and a hug for getting dressed today, for washing a dish or two, for getting the groceries, even though you forgot the eggs. Here’s a medal for any outing you made with the kids. Here’s a hug for any moment you were covered in some sort of bodily fluid, and a hug for any time that you’ve heard more cries than laughs. You deserve it.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Keeping My Cool When My Kid Can’t

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This post also appeared on the My Big Jesus blog! 

A sweet Irish-inspired moment.
A sweet Irish-inspired moment.

Sometimes, your kid (read: toddler) gets upset. Really upset. Really, really upset. For me, when that moment begins, the first thing I want to do is the same thing my toddler’s doing: cry, throw something, run away… you get my drift.

I’ve heard all the ways to prevent these meltdowns from happening: make sure they aren’t tired or hungry, prepare them properly for whatever you’re asking them to do, let them help make the decisions, etc. All of these are well and fine, and may actually work, but every once in a while, the circumstances are out of your control, or things just look differently than you had planned. And your toddler doesn’t go with the flow like she usually does. She freaks out.

Now, in the depths of my OCD soul, I must have order. (Yes, I just sounded like Delores Umbridge in Order of the Phoenix.) I’m coming to terms with the fact that being a mom means not having it. But I like routines, and so do my kids. I like schedules, and so do my kids. But when our schedules and routines fail, we are all a big mess.

This week, my kids were sick. That meant a trip to the doctor (during naptime, because that was the only time they could get us in), humidifiers, Tylenol, movie-watching and trying extra hard to get to bed on time. It also meant no preschool, no church, no play dates, no leaving the house and no fun-having. FOR ANYONE.

On my list of priorities, right behind routines and schedules is getting out of the house. I get cabin fever in roughly 20 minutes. Even if all I do is go to the grocery store and buy one item (typically milk or bananas), I need to get out. Sometimes, putting the kids in the stroller and making laps around the neighborhood does the trick. (Note: this week was cold and rainy.) But I need to drop EK off at preschool. I need to let them play on the playground or at Chick-fil-A. I need to have friends over. I need my kids to have fun so that I can, too.

This week has been a whirlwind of crying, coughing, needing, snuggling, napping, refusing to nap, and wearing pajamas. I’m trying to appreciate these moments of relaxation and snuggling on Mommy’s bed watching Disney movies. I’m trying to appreciate a slow down, especially in the midst of a renovation and gearing up for a busy spring. But it’s been hard. I’ve been reaching out to the Father for patience and for health. I’ve been wrestling toddlers and sickness and the need for caffeine versus the amount I’m allowed to have while pregnant. I may or may not have subbed in sugar on several occasions.

But this is life. This is a season. It’s already almost over. Later when they’re sick, I’ll just hand them a Gatorade and they’ll sleep till they feel better. There won’t be extra snuggles and needing me. I will do my best to rest in these times, to enjoy the break in routine, with the help of Someone who knows the weight of being needed.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, pregnancy, siblings

I am exhausted.

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This post appeared on the My Big Jesus blog!  We spent today bopping around town, carrying kids to and fro, shopping for this and getting ready for that. Our house is a madhouse, like it often is these days. I don’t mind – really, I don’t. I know that it’s a season, and that things will return to a semi-normal. I know that my kids will be these ages but once. I know that my niece and nephew (who I also got to see this evening!) will be these ages but once.

Yet, my lovely and insightful mother-in-law said something to me, in passing really, tonight that made me think. She had spent the morning with my son, and part of the afternoon with my daughter. She said, “I don’t know how y’all do it with these two. I guess I did it with mine, but I’m exhausted!” Going on, she explained that she meant chasing them around her house, entertaining them, and making sure nothing got broken.

Well let me tell you, I understood her completely. While my house is basically baby-proofed and I can let them run free a little more in our home than she can in hers (split-level=stairs upon stairs) I am still frequently exhausted at the end of the day. Even if I haven’t completed a single housekeeping task, or didn’t get in a work out, or haven’t left the house, or if I did catch a little snooze during someone’s naptime, I’m often exhausted.

It isn’t simply that my back hurts, or that I’m sleep deprived, although sometimes those things are true. (Have you lugged around a 30lb sack of flour recently?) It’s emotional exhaustion. It’s mental exhaustion. I’m not a creative person, so EK really makes me work my imagination (ie: silly voices, strange scenarios, and telling her “stories” that I made up). I’m constantly trying to think of ways to educate – nay, entertain – two developmental levels, two totally different personalities. I’m trying to explain to my daughter why she should share, can’t push her brother, and shouldn’t scream in the house. I’m trying to distract my son when he just wants to be held – for the entire 12 hours he is awake. I’m trying to make healthy breakfasts and dinners that also look enticing and taste delicious. I’m trying to not lose patience with messes and attitudes and too-short naps and refused meals. It’s a lot. It’s trying, giving, sacrificing, and pushing myself.

So yes, in a word, I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted when I think of how much love I’ve got in my heart for these little beings that need me so. I’m exhausted when I think that by the end of this summer, I’ll have a third little being that needs me like these two do. I’m exhausted when I think that in 18 years, they’ll need me so much less. I’m exhausted to think they won’t always snuggle into my neck or say “mmmmmm-ah!” when I ask for a kiss. But being exhausted in the midst of right now is a fulfilled, happy exhaustion. When I slip into my bed, and don’t have time to finish one sentence in my book, I’m not really upset about it. I’m just wishing I had more patience, more creativity, more knowledge to share with those exciting, excitable toddlers that I call my own.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, siblings

He’s gonna be a sockah playah!

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This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com

My eldest child is a daughter. My daughter is not an athlete. I don’t consider this to be a reflection on her gender. I don’t consider this to be a reflection on her girlhood. I consider it to be a bit of laziness and a bit of clumsiness, combined with the fact that mom and dad and grandma and grandpa and everyone in her life have always done what she needed. She loves to dance and loves to run, but she is not very graceful. It’s endearing, truly.

My son however it is already running as soon as he learned to walk. He is climbing. He is jumping and shouting and being fast and crazy. The desire to be faster and stronger is so much more with the second child. I don’t think their differences are boy versus girl. I think their differences have more to do with the fact that my son has always wanted to catch up to my daughter. Maybe it’s just a second child thing.

Those things being said, I will fully support the habits, desires and interests of my kids. If EK wants to try out for every sports team her entire life, I’ll support it. If J never wants to do anything athletic in his life, I’ll support it. I want them to be well-rounded, but also happy. I’d love them to be musical and athletic and theatrical and academic and social and everything all at once… wouldn’t everyone like their kids to have talent out the wazoo and be gifted in anything they tried? But that just isn’t the most practical thing to expect of your child.

I know my kids aren’t old enough to have really shown us what their talents or interests are yet, but I’m preparing for it. I know it’s coming. And when it comes, we’ve got ten years at least of it being a huge part of our lives. I don’t want to be a mom who forces her kids into things they don’t care about, or makes them stick with what they started for several more years, even if they hate it. That being said, we won’t decide that our first piano lesson wasn’t what we thought and we can just quit. We also, won’t try one new thing every single year till high school graduation. That just gets too crazy. We will strive for a good balance, no over commitment, and the most fun and learning. Those are the priorities.

Now remind me of that in 5 years or so, okay?

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, pregnancy, siblings

Once… Twice… Three Times with Baby

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I like to think that by blogging, I’m able to impart a little motherly wisdom, provide a little entertainment, and encourage some weary women out there with a little good news. I think this post does all three of those things pretty well… So here’s a post about pregnancies – and how they’re all different.

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When you’re pregnant with your first baby, no matter how you feel, you probably have the opportunity to rest a lot. With your first, you can lounge around in your free time, sleep a lot, rest, and exploit your spouse to please cook the thing you’re craving and take out the trash because your pregnant nose is in overdrive and you can’t stand the smell. You always know what week you’re on (16 weeks, 2 days, 3 hours and 15 minutes) and you have the due date marked in all your friends’ and family members’ calendars. You have a perfect nursery, complete with outfits for every type of weather and every size up to 3T. You’ve looked at day cares and preschools, read parenting books and blogs, and chosen the perfect name for a successful human. You are way ahead of the game, due purely to excitement.

When you’re pregnant with your second baby, there is no resting unless your kid is resting (so basically none). There is no requesting special meals, because the meals revolve around the current kid, not you. If he takes out the trash, you’re probably doing the dishes or changing a diaper, anyway. You try to eat as healthily as possible (fruit, non-sugary cereal, etc) since you’re trying to feed your kid pretty healthy, too. You keep on doing your thing as much as possible, sneaking naps if you can, and going to bed a little earlier, if your spouse is helping with laundry.

With your third, all bets are pretty much off. You’re going and bopping and feeding and playing and cleaning and laundering and driving to and from and yonder. You’re eating a lot of mac and cheese, because that’s what’s easy to satisfy everyone’s palates. You’re already swimming in diapers and wipes, so no need to buy a bunch of those in preparation. You’ve got every type of hand-me-downs, so the kid is set on clothes. You feel like you want to buy the third kid something new, but you just don’t need anything and you don’t have extra cash really to throw at unnecessary baby items. You also better have your maternity clothes unpacked at 8 weeks, because you’ll need them.

But you know what will be the same every time?  You’ll still smile when you feel the baby move in your womb. You will be excited to pick the name, however far along you are. You will know love that you didn’t know you had room for in your heart. You will begin praying for that little being and the rest of his or her life.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

That Moment When…

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That moment when you look at your kids, and they’re playing nicely together.
That moment when their plates are empty, and haven’t been flung to the floor yet.
When they say please and thank you.
When they ask for an extra hug and kiss.
When they blow your mind with their brilliance, their intuitiveness, and their stinkin’ cute curls.

But also, that moment when she pushes him down.
That moment when all the stuffed animals are in the toilet.
That moment when you aren’t sure how much they ate, because food seems to multiply when it hits the floor.
When you’re sure your kids had friends over while you went to the bathroom, because two kids couldn’t have done that by themselves.
When you didn’t finish your breakfast, or your coffee, or shower.
When they refuse to nap, refuse to eat, refuse to be held, and refuse to be put down, simultaneously.

That moment, you are a mother. Yes, you’re always a mother, but you might wear a hundred other hats in a day… wife, sister, chef, friend, housekeeper, daughter, co-worker, chauffeur or any myriad of other jobs you may sometimes hold. But that moment, you’re simply a mom.

You are more than just a busy woman or even a slightly sticky, exhausted human. You’re a mom who provides fully, loves deeply, tries hard, and picks herself up when she slips. You’re a mom who kisses booboos, fixes hair, wipes noses, and cuts crusts off sandwiches. You’re a mom who molds minds, chases dreams, encourages personalities and shapes the future.

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faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, parenting fails

You Ruined the Moment!

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Today, I had a moment. A moment of full appreciation of all my little guy’s cuteness and quirks. He’d gotten up from his nap a little fussy, and just wanted to cuddle. He needed his mama. I was obviously glad to oblige. I was even tearing up, burying my face in his curls behind his ears, and telling Hubby how glad I was to have a little guy who loved his mama. Then just like that, the moment was over – squelched by a bit of vomit, rolling right down our sleeves and on to my pants.

Thanks a lot, kid.

Luckily, we both needed baths anyway, so I took him to my bathroom, figuring we’d just hop in the shower. As soon as I got his diaper off, he decided to make sure the aforementioned sweet moment was completely gone. He stood up straight, took a big breath, and peed right onto the bath mat.

It was gone. But thanks for making sure, kid.

But the truth is that I often look at my little humans and think about how incredible they are. I think about how EK has her daddy’s hazel eyes, with the speckles of gold. I think about how J has the ice blue eyes of my grandfather, who died while I was pregnant with J. I think about EK’s stubborn personality and wonder (batting my eyes and smiling sneakily) where she could have possibly gotten it from! I listen to J’s happy wordless jabber, probably making up stories and using his imagination already. They’re amazing. God has already given them a thousand unique qualities that I will love, struggle with, pray over and brag about. They are mine, my own. And they are wonderfully and fearfully made.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, siblings

Your First Child… and Your Second

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People tell you things about your second child. He will go with the flow, they said. He will have to, they said. Your second is always more easy-going, right?

Wrong. In my case, dead wrong.

Our oldest child is very go-with-the-flow. She loves running errands, having play dates, and being out of the house. She loves going out to dinner, meeting new people, taking a nap whenever, staying up late, and generally having a full schedule. I mean, she does really well entertaining herself at home, but she’s also great at all-around keeping herself occupied wherever we are.

Our second child is the opposite. He’s a homebody. He likes nothing better than to be at home, with his toys, nap on his own (different-every-day) schedule, eat at our own dining room table, and go to bed over an hour earlier than EK. This, as you might imagine, can cramp our style. Specifically, it cramps my playdates-and-meals-at-restaurants style. He often naps through the lunch hour. My lunch dates will have to wait. Playing in the playplace at Chick-Fil-A? No way. Morning playdates while EK is in preschool? You must be joking. And put him in the nursery at church with babies he knows and parent volunteers he knows? ALL BETS ARE OFF.

But which kid is right? Which one has the “better” idea of what’s going on? Neither. They’re both great. I love taking EK with me when I go to Target and Costco and the grocery store, because she loves being out and about. Talk about a girl making my busybody, stir-crazy-at-home-all-day heart happy! Equally, I love my at-home cuddles with J, watching a movie or snacking on fruit at the kitchen table, instead of going out to lunch with friends. I even (usually, anyway) think it’s amusing to go behind him and right all the upturned objects he’s hit with the Swiffer he nabbed, and pick up the food crumbs he’s dropped off his pants as he walked away from the table.

Both my kids are awesome. God has given them totally different personalities, and it’s my joy (and yes, occasional frustration) as their mom to get to know them, even as they change every single day. I can already enjoy special moments with each of them separately, doing things that they enjoy. I love knowing them, and knowing that they’re different.

mommyhood, My Big Jesus, pregnancy, random thoughts

10 Reasons I Want to Throw a Toddler Tantrum

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This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com!

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Does anyone else wish they could hit the floor, scream at the top of their lungs, and cry it out?

1. I use wrinkle cream around my eyes, and acne-prevention face wash. At the same time.

2. The snack I made was for me, not the tiny pairs of hands that keep stealing it.

3. My coffee doesn’t reheat itself.

4. I want to take a nap, so why don’t my kids?!

5. I am angry that I don’t know the sound a rabbit makes, too.

6. I’m swimming in laundry. Seriously.

7. I just put those puzzles together, for crying out loud.

8. I can’t drink wine while pregnant.

9.  I was using the laptop! And no, I didn’t want to watch Frozen!

10. I want to go to sleep at 9:00pm, but I can’t, because my toddler doesn’t want to.

mommyhood, My Big Jesus, parenting fails

Failing at Manners

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This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com !

Growling "like a dinosaur" instead of eating her lunch.
Growling “like a dinosaur” instead of eating her lunch.

So, I’ve been trying to teach EK about manners. I know, my two and a half year old doesn’t know much about manners (says anyone who’s ever spent time with her). She’s a little spastic, likes to run around instead of stay in her chair during meals, and thinks spitting, yelling, sounding like a fire truck, and pushing down her brother (who just learned to walk) are all acceptable things to do. We talk every day about being polite, making good choices, and being kind to others, and I can tell it’s finally starting to sink in. She knows better than doing lots of the things we talk about. And that’s where we get stuck.

Recently, she’s been saying, “That’s funny!” or “Ella Kate so funny!” after she does something mean or rude. So the other day, I countered with, “No, that’s not funny. That’s rude.” If you could tell me how to take those words back, I’d pay you a million dollars.

I have literally heard that phrase several times a day since I said it the first – and only – time. Of all the things I say that she parrots, I can’t believe that’s the one. Sometimes, she does something truly funny, and we tell her so. And right on cue, she responds with, “No! That’s not funny! That’s rude!”

Talk about a lost meaning. A giant parenting fail that I committed, just as I was trying to teach manners. The best laid plans, right? Well, I can’t stop teaching her about manners because I had an epic fail. I can’t just let her run me over when I try to teach her right from wrong. One failed teachable moment doesn’t excuse me from ever teaching her anything again. It just makes me want to get it right even more. As a parent, it’s my job to teach her to make good choices on her own, so that she can do it without me later. It’s a scarily important role, teaching those things. It’s tough. I’m sure when she’s a teenager, it’ll be tougher still. But I can’t be discouraged by one fail, or five fails, or a thousand. That loud, endearingly crazy girl is going to get the right idea, if I can help guide her in spite of ourselves.