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faith, health and fitness, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, pregnancy, Run Away.

A Time Out for Mommy

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My lungs are burning, I thought.  Whether from cold or effort I don’t know. 

That was the first real thought of what might have been a hundred during my first mile.

It’s been too long since my last run… especially since I’m pushing this double stroller.

Why didn’t I pack tissues?! There was room in the stroller for goodness sake!

If my fingertips are this numb, how are my kids doing? Why didn’t I make them wear gloves? Worst mom ever!

Gosh, I have to pee. I know. Pregnant with my third kid and I have to pee. Big surprise.

How many times is EK gonna drop that blanket? I’m never going to make it for three miles if I’m stopping every ten feet.

This is just a sampling of how my mind rambles while I’m running. It’s extremely silly sometimes, how my mind will come up with anything to think about besides the work it’s doing. And the truth was that even though it had been awhile since my last run, I wasn’t even working that hard. What was hard was the cold, my runny nose, and the fact that I always have to go to the bathroom.

But I needed the time out. Time outdoors. Time out in the sunshine (which has been hit or miss these days). Time out for my kiddos – not like a punishment, but a total removal from their current situation (sitting inside, toddling along after me, asking to be picked up). Time out of my normal laundry-dishes-picking-up routine. Time out from my “feed the kids, change a diaper, clean, repeat” routine. A mama can only put together 2732 puzzles before she needs a time out.

And y’all, when I tell you I need a time out, I’m serious. I get frustrated easily. Call it hormones, call it a generational curse, call it whatever you want. But I do. I work on it all day, every day. I pray about it. I have others pray with me about it. But I’m human, and I lose patience and lose resolve. So when I need to get rid of some frustration, I like going on a run. Winter is the worst, because my time out can’t happen if it’s below about 45 degrees (yes, I’m a weenie and I hate the cold). But when it’s 45 or above, my double jogging stroller is my best friend, who understands my venting and my struggles. Okay, fine. “Understands” is a stretch, but you get the idea. At least the stroller doesn’t struggle back.

Sometimes, I’m in need of more than just a run. I’m in need of a run to Jesus. I pray harder every mile. I pray for myself, I pray for my kids, my Hubby, my friends, my family. I pray for grace as a mama. I pray for patience and a clean heart. I pray that the 25 minute nap that J got in the stroller will last him till bedtime. I pray that I won’t collapse going up the last hill before I’m home. I pray because I need Jesus so much. I know that he’s the only one who truly understands, and can cleanse me and mold me into a more perfect woman in his sight.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus, pregnancy

The Social Networks of Moms

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This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com so check it out there, too!

I have a theory about moms and their social lives. It’s that most moms have five groups of people in their social networks. I’ll describe them a bit for you:

1. Friends from before you had kids. Notice I didn’t bother to separate these into high school friends, college friends, work friends, etc. They’re all lumped together now in a group of “they’ve known me as a woman before she was a mom”.

2. Friends you made because you were pregnant at the same time. Perhaps you met these friends at your birthing classes. Possibly, you had the same doctor and ran into each other a lot. Maybe you’re like me, and you met them at prenatal yoga. Or just maybe, you just looked at each other, in the middle of Babies R Us, that registering “gun” in your hand, staring at the wall full of seemingly identical sippy cups, and just laughed together.

3. Friends you made because they also have kids. These are the friends that you were acquainted with, but you’d never really gotten to know before, until you realized your kids were similar ages, and wow! you live in the same neighborhood! Neighborhood park play date, anyone? (Note: They might also be the ones that you keep calling and asking your random “Is this normal?” type questions. And that’s okay, too.)

4. Friends you made because your kids are friends with theirs. Since my kids are young, I haven’t delved too far into this one yet myself, but these are friend you’ve made simply because your kids request to hang out with their kids. Lots of times, that means you and that other mom are gonna get a lot of quality time together, so I hope for your sake she’s cool.

5. Friends that belong in more than one of these groups. These are usually the favorites. Your best friend from college got pregnant at the same time as you. Your community group at church has a couple of moms with kids that are similarly aged. Your kids have had so many play dates with your prenatal yoga friends’ kids that they’re basically best friends now, too.

This fifth group is the one that I say “does life together”. Not that you can’t do life with someone in a different stage of life than you… you absolutely can. But isn’t it easier to relate to someone else who also has a toddler and a newborn, who can relate to the sleep-deprived craziness? Isn’t it more comforting to call a fellow mom to pray for you about your child having night terrors? It just makes more sense to ask another mom advice about getting your four-month-old to sleep through the night.

This group, network, tribe… these are the prayer warriors, the comforters, the make-you-feel-better-ers, and the caretakers on standby. These are the ones who will have coffee with you after preschool drop off in their pjs. They’re the ones who will immediately answer your message at 4:00am, because they’re also up nursing a baby. They’re the ones who will tell you it’s okay to cry over spilled milk sometimes, and your potty-training problems will be over before you know it, who will let you drop off your toddler for an hour while you go to the dentist, and who will remind you that those little mess-making devils are the ones you love, even on their messiest, most devious days – yes, even after you’ve stepped on the twenty-seventh Lego.1557299_10201745293992537_4234563664332024362_o

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

A Mountainous Moment Away

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This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com!

A couple of weekends ago, I went to the mountains (Asheville, NC to be exact) with my college girlfriends for about 24 hours. Y’all. It’s the first baby-free 24 hours I’ve had since September. I know, I’m probably spoiled getting away twice in a matter of four months, but I digress.

We had planned to spend a day and a night together before the Christmas rush to catch up, sleep late, eat like the foodies we are, drink wine and shop. It was a great trip: beautiful weather, wonderful friends (we’ve been friends for ten years!) and just enough excitement to make me glad I wasn’t lugging two extra bodies around.

Until I’d gotten through 19 or so of the 24 hours. And then I missed those extra little bodies. No one was tugging at my shirt from around my knees, no one had needed to potty, no sippy cups misplaced, no diapers were changed, and no one had cried because their nap time was off. But then again, no one randomly wanted hugs and kisses, ate the rest of my sandwich I couldn’t finish, charmed strangers with his giggles, or gave a hilarious misnomer to an item she saw in a storefront. Hubby was sending me pictures of the three of them, having a grand time wearing superhero capes and having dance parties. I know, I shouldn’t complain. I was sitting in front of the fire at the Grove Park Inn, sipping hot chocolate. Still, I digress.

When you create two little beings, they are such a part of you that there’s no not missing them. There’s no glad you haven’t seen them in a while or relieved you aren’t changing diapers and scrambling eggs right now. I don’t think it’s a routine thing either… I don’t miss them because they’re a part of my routine and I’m a scheduled person. I miss them because they’re a part of me. They’re my favorite people. They’re opening my eyes to the world that they see and the feelings they’re discovering for the first time, not to mention milestones like learning to walk or pooping in the potty that I might be missing!

I also know that time with adults (read: people with wider vocabularies) and time to be by myself is healthy. I know that getting a full night’s sleep is a good thing, as is building and keeping up relationship with women that I love. It was a relaxing and rejuvenating time; we are an easy-going group, who all know each other well enough that we can skip pleasantries and get straight to what’s going on in our lives. And since we’re all at different points in our lives (ie: I’m the only mom) it’s fun to hear about things that we’ve passed, or things we haven’t come to yet. It’s good for me to remember that my life isn’t only inside my four walls with the three people I see most often. It stretches and encourages me that not all of us are in the same trenches.

Who says when you grow up, you don't like taking hilarious photos?
Who says when you grow up, you don’t like taking hilarious photos?
faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

A Christmas Story

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My daughter likes to have me read the Bible to her before she goes to bed. We have two versions that we read to her: The Beginner’s Bible and The Jesus Storybook Bible (both by Zonderkidz). For some reason, the entire season of Advent, we hadn’t read from the latter of the two versions until the other night. I was laying in her bed, her head nestled on my lap, and read the story of the Nativity, as written in The Jesus Storybook Bible.

Y’all. I was weeping.

I will first say that I’ve looked at the Nativity story – specifically Mary and her blessed job – a little different since becoming a mother myself. It’s rocked my world the past few Christmases, thinking about carrying a child you know will change the world in the best and most terrifying of ways. I’ll share a few favorite moments, but I have to say that I love the annunciation story:

“‘Mary, you’re going to have a baby. A little boy. You will call him Jesus. He is God’s own Son. He’s the One! He’s the Rescuer!’
…Wait. God was sending a baby to rescue the world?
‘But it’s too wonderful!’ Mary said and felt her heart beating hard. ‘How can it be true?’
‘Is anything too wonderful for God?’ Gabriel asked.
So Mary trusted God more than what her eyes could see. And she believed. ‘I am God’s servant,’ she said. ‘Whatever God says, I will do.'”

I love the way they don’t leave out the nuance of Mary’s fear mingled with excitement, followed by complete and total trust. My two-year-old might not have picked it up, but that was where the tears began. And here’s where they really picked up: the story of the shepherds. You see, I had never given a thought to God as a daddy. A great, big, Holy Father, sure. But a giddy, brand new Daddy? It melted me.

“You see, God was like a new daddy – he couldn’t keep the good news to himself. He’d been waiting all these long years for this moment, and now he wanted to tell everyone.
So he pulled out all the stops. He’d sent an angel to tell Mary the good news. He’d put a special star in the sky to show where his boy was. And now he was going to send a big choir of angels to sing his happy song to the world: He’s come! Go and see him. My little Boy.”

My little Boy. Thinking about my own little boy and his excited his wonderful daddy was when he was born made me wonder how much more excited God was to see his tiny Son be born!

Wrapping up the story was a perfect summation, written in a way that all can understand:

“But this child was a new kind of king. Though he was the Prince of Heaven, he had become poor. Though he was the Mighty God, he had become a helpless baby. This King hadn’t come to be the boss. He had come to be a servant.”

The excitement and wonder of Jesus’ arrival at Christmas is still a glorious foreshadowing of the sacrifice and hope of Easter. A incredible story of the humble beginnings of a baby King, growing into an unparalleled story of miracles, prophecy and fulfillment, suffering, death, and resurrection all for the sinners who had turned from Him. Reading between the lines of a children’s story, I experienced a shift from the busyness and excitement to gratefulness and conviction. I belong to this baby King, and he is my reason for everything I do.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

I Love You, But…

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I noticed this phrase I’ve been using recently – and I even caught Hubby saying it today. sometimes, when I’m telling EK to do something, she gets frustrated or even cries. So the next time I tell her, I often begin my sentence with “I love you, but…” Here are a few examples:

I love you, but you have to go to bed now.

I love you, but you can’t hit your brother.

I love you, but you have to eat your breakfast.

I love you, but you can’t wear your too-big, plastic, high-heeled princess shoes to school.

See what I mean? I don’t know if I do it because my parents did it, or if I made it up all on my own. But when she starts the tears, or stomps her feet and slams doors in frustration (definitely my daughter – sorry to pass that on) I want to head her off by declaring my love for her, reminding that I have her best interest in mind, and that I’m not telling her to do something she doesn’t want to do just for kicks. But I’m using my love for her like a disclaimer. I’m saying it just before I deliver the final blow of bad news: I love you, but we aren’t watching any more Bubble Guppies today.

My love for my kids shouldn’t be a disclaimer, or even a reason that I can tell them what to do. My love should be the viewpoint from which I act, speak, and parent in general. My love should be what chooses my words and lifts my hands. My love is the reasoning behind wanting to help my kids be healthy, responsible, kind, and happy – not the thing I say before I force them into those things. So I’m going to challenge myself: I won’t follow my “I love yous” with a “but”. I won’t discount my love by saying it with an ulterior motive. I love my kids. I love them regardless of any and every situation they could possibly be in, which is why I will choose to parent without excuses, even if the excuse was “I love you”. There is no “I love you, but…” There is only an internal “I love you, so…” I will help you make the best choices now, so that when you’re older, you’ll make the best choices on your own.

My Big Jesus

I Want My Daddy!

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*This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com*

Toddlers can sometimes do things that… get under your skin.

I know. Big surprise, right? At two and a half, my daughter is a whirlwind, and I love it. She’s inquisitive, musical, busy, smart, and a hundred other things at any given moment. But recently, she’s got this thing she says that for some reason affects my heart differently 8than anything else she says. Those words are simple, and repeated often, but they tug at me every time. “I want my Daddy.”

Sometimes, this sentence comes at a time when she’s tired, and knows her Daddy is the best snuggler. Sometimes, this sentence is thrown in my face because I’ve told her not to push her brother. Other times, it’s cried out because he’s working and she misses him in a random moment. But each time I hear it, I’ve got mixed feelings. At first, I think, “It’s so sweet that she loves her Daddy so much!” I mean, #agirlandherdad am I right?

But after hearing it a lot, repeatedly, especially when I am right there to snuggle or help or kiss booboos or whatever it is she needs, I can feel the thoughts creeping into my mind… “Am I not good enough? Why doesn’t she want me? Does she not love me as much as she loves her Daddy?”

Seriously, Whitney? Get a grip. She’s two.

But still… my deepest fears and insecurities could be realized in that one sentence. I want my Daddy… for a thousand reasons you don’t want to hear.

I just have to remember that she does love me, and she does need me, too. There are things I do better than Daddy, and times that as a girl, and a woman, she will need her mother. And upon mentioning these thoughts and fears to Hubby, the filled me in that when I’m not there, she does also say, “I want my Mommy!” So there is a little grace in there for a mama who loves a baby girl, and wants to be loved back.

Holiday Confusion. That's a wreath, not a flotation device.
Holiday Confusion. That’s a wreath, not a flotation device.
mommyhood, My Big Jesus

When He Misses Me

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*This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com *

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The other night, Hubby and I went out to his high school reunion. We got in late, were very tired, and looking forward to being able to sleep in a little bit (my early-rising family is in town and they tend to take the kids when they wake up, allowing for a few minutes of extra sleep in the mornings). However, I wake to cries from my son at 5:22 (yes, exactly that time) and trudge sleepily into his room to see what was the matter.

He was very upset, that much I could tell, but at 11 months, how much can he communicate with me? I just rubbed his back, hummed, and rocked in the chair, hoping he’d calm down and I could lay him down soon. He dozed off a few minutes later, but my attempt to lay him down was futile. Immediately his head popped up and his eyes searched the room for me. Resigned to a little while longer in the rocker instead of my bed, I grabbed my pillow and a few of his little blankets, snuggled down and covered us up as best I could.

As I rocked and hummed and rocked some more, it occurred to me that maybe he just missed me. That probably wasn’t what woke him up initially, but that’s why he wanted to snuggle (he’s usually way too busy for that) and that’s why he wouldn’t let me put him down.

You see, my family (my parents, siblings, grandmother, aunt, uncle and cousin) have all been in town for Thanksgiving. They’ve thrown off the groove (in a good way, I might add!) by changing diapers and giving snuggles and playing and babysitting, instead of the normal routine of just Hubby and me being around. J just felt like he wasn’t getting his normal amount of Mama Time and needed me to himself for a few minutes.

After we had dozed in that chair till about 8:00, my mom came in to make sure we were alright. She hadn’t wanted to disturb what she knew would be the sweetest snuggles I’d get for a while. 11-month-old boys are… indefatigable… and too busy getting into messes to snuggle their moms. Except when they know it’s been too long.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Raising a Daughter in a World of Mean Dudes

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This post also appeared on MyBigJesus.com!

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This week, I came across an article about that guy – Julien Blanc – who teaches men how to be sexual predators. It scared the mess outta me. I’m talking terrified. Not because I think that one of those men is going to be messing with me. No. It scared me because I have a daughter. I’ve written about how tough I think it is to raise a daughter before, and unfortunately, it’s not getting any easier.

I have a laundry list of things I want my daughter to be. It does not include doctor, lawyer, CEO, president, or even famous humanitarian. The list does include, however, things like loves Jesus, is happy in her profession, does kind things for others, and knows that she’s beautiful in the eyes of the Father who created her.

You see, I want her to know her worth in her Creator. Everyone else’s opinions matter not. She is called perfect and beautiful by the One who created her as such. She doesn’t need any certain clothes, tons of makeup, and the approval of a boyfriend or best friend to make it so. Her unique qualities and abilities are gifts. It’s Hubby’s and my job to raise her to know that. In a world of plastic surgery, eating disorders, cyber bullying and domestic violence, I want to raise a woman confident in herself because she knows who she is.

There’s only one starting point – the Gospel.

I can’t do everything. I can’t force her to internalize every single characteristic and ideal I might nudge her way. But I can teach her the Truth. I can tell her about God and his amazing sacrificial love. I can model the Father’s love for us by loving her with unconditional love. I can provide opportunities for other like-minded souls to help reinforce these bits of Truth in her life. I can help her understand that knowing Jesus is the best and only thing she can do to truly know her worth and potential. I can start now – at two and a half years old.

My little girl is beautiful and smart. She’s as witty as a two year old can be, and already a ham for the camera. For real y’all – she basically only wears tutus (see above photo) and won’t leave the house without her fanciest shoes. I just want to make sure she knows she’s awesome and doesn’t need anyone’s approval for that piece of information to be true. She just needs to know Who created her, how He feels about her, and where He wants her to go. It’s like the cheesy song goes: she’s gonna do great things; I already know.

faith, food, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Mountains or Molehills?

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I don’t know if you know this about me, but I seriously love my family. Hubby and I have the best families on the planet. I’m sure yours is great, but… mine’s better.

Today, my sisters-in-law and I met our mother-in-law to plan out the holidays, everyone’s travel plans, and some dates we will all be together. Not only did we have a fun time at lunch, but decided to go shopping together! We then had so much fun shopping that when we needed to head home, we did so with the idea we’d get the brothers and our kids to have dinner together! So we packed up our families and met for dinner. Six adults, a toddler and three babies. It was a lot. We ate a lot. We spilled a lot. We laughed a lot. It was just a lot.

I had a choice at dinner tonight. I could have been stressed about the fact that in the first ten minutes, water, wine and green beans were all spilled. I could have been annoyed that J would only eat if he was sitting in my lap (aka if I was unable to eat). I could have been frustrated that right when I was able to eat a few bites, EK needed to go potty. But in fact, I chose fun. It was fun to pass the kids around the table, help ourselves to everyone else’s food, and make a big mess (for which we tipped generously, promise). I chose to be excited that my daughter told me she needed to go potty instead of peeing in her diaper! That was a miracle in itself!

When you have a choice between being frustrated, and giving in to the situation and making the best of it, making the right choice can be tough. I’m a high-strung person by nature (sorry, everyone) so I can make big deals out of basically anything. But it’s my constant goal – and sometimes struggle – to “Let It Go” (forgive the reference). I need lots of reminders, and I ask for a lot of help. My family bears with me in the midst of my sometimes-OCD. But I like myself more, and I’m sure everyone else does, too, if I can give in to the crazy and fun, instead of making a mountain out of a molehill.

faith, mommyhood, My Big Jesus

Why does it always work out that way?

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As I type this, I’m sitting on my couch, listening to my son fuss. He should be asleep. It’s 7:50pm, and he’s been in the bed for half an hour. The first 20 minutes were silent – and now, as I’m trying to leave the house, he’s awake and fussing to get up and play. He had a big day full of family photos and playing hard. He needs to rest after the craziness of the day. This is the first night in weeks that he hasn’t gone to bed without any trouble. It’s also one of the first nights that I’m trying to go out to a birthday party that started at 7:00. Hubby is working, and my mom is keeping the kids. She and my daughter are happily watching a quick tv show before bed, and my mom simply requested that J be asleep before I left.

Or it should’ve been a simple request.

I’m dressed, purse and keys in hand, hoping this won’t take all night. I’m dying to see my friends while I’m wearing mascara and not wearing yoga pants. Plus, I don’t want to miss the cake – because there has to be cake, right? But here I am, held back by the quiet (getting quieter…) sounds of my still wakeful son. I’ve check on him several times – checking his diaper, patting his back, giving him smooches. And still he fights sleep.

I wonder how often God waits on us… fussing… whining… refusing to just rest. I wonder if He is sitting, on some heavenly leather sofa, waiting for us to come around to the thing we need the most. He’s probably not waiting so that He can go to a party, but waiting because He knows we will be happy when we finally get what we need – Him. When we rest in Him we are refreshed. We are rejuvenated. We are healthier and more whole. But we put up a fight, just like my son is doing now. We think we know what we want, but we forget to listen to the One who knows best.