A no-good-very-bad-horrible morning... and how I survived.

Splashing boiling oatmeal on myself at 11 AM this morning was a pivotal moment in my day.  As I frantically wiped the sticky goo off of my chest, I knew that something had to happen or I would be the one erupting and sending boiling blobs of angry words at my kids if they got too close.

If you rewind my day by a few hours, you can understand why I got up on the wrong side of the bed.  The reason, in fact, had much to do with the fact that my two little boys snuck into my room, well before our usual "wake-up" time, and began to climb on me - all knees and elbows - when I felt like I'd much rather hit the "snooze" button.  At first, I tried to cherish the moment - and enjoy their snuggles and stories, but the horror of my day became very obvious when the 3 year old began pushing the 5 year old away from his comfy spot next to Mommy, and the fighting and whining began. Clearly, they were both up too early and had not clocked enough hours of sleep to function without continual, incessant whining.

Onward to my day, I thought, as I opened a new package of coffee beans to grind them. "Drat!" I whispered out-loud to myself.  Going against my better instincts, I had bought that "new" brand of beans because of the attractive price tag on the grocery-store shelf.  They lacked the sheen and glimmer that I had grown used to with my gourmet coffee beans, and even the aroma told me that they were going to be a far cry from my usual brew.

Meanwhile, other children stirred, awoke and started to feed like hogs at a trough as they gobbled apples and homemade buns and begged for more and more food. 

I attempted to start my day right.  With the less-than-lovely coffee in my favorite mug, I sank onto the couch and wrapped myself in a blanket and opened up my Bible.  Even my designated passage for the day seemed to lack encouragement and the zest and inspiration that a mother needs to face half-a-dozen children, a sink full of dishes and multitudes of "to do's" on the homeschooling agenda.  I was still stuck in the Old Testament, reading about kings and their nation who had turned from God and were sunk deep in the clutches of sin - worshiping idols, living lives of harlotry and murdering people until you couldn't walk down the street without tripping across a rotting corpse.  May the Lord bless the reading of His Word...  (Disclaimer: I LOVE the Word of God.  I just found it ironic that my passage for today was almost entirely about the wicked deeds of those who had turned away from serving the Lord.)

Once breakfast was over, I instructed the children to take care of their daily scheduled chores, namely to clean up the disaster state that the kitchen was in, including that mess of their first feeding of the day.  I went into my room, intending to tackle some of the more neglected areas - my enormous bathroom mirror, counter top... the toilet!  I also stripped the cookie and banana soiled sheets off my bed (thanks to my youngest child) and I even vacuumed my floor!  Hooray! Progress!

Not so fast... of course the children needed step-by-step instruction and prodding to complete their own cleaning jobs!  I came into the kitchen to find it still looking like a complete disaster!  I barked out some orders and began to wipe down the kitchen counter and toss dirty dishes in the sink.  Then I remembered that I had been so busy, I hadn't yet eaten any breakfast.  I measured oatmeal and water into a small pot, turned on the stove and returned to my room to quickly finish my tidying.  Only... what did I find?  There was Ezra, a trail of crumbs leading to him all the way from the doorway to the place where he sat, crumbs spilling all over the mattress and even sprinkled in the basket of laundry that was sitting on the bed next to him!

"Ezzzrrraa!" I shrieked.  "No food in Mommy's room!"  I sent him to the kitchen to eat, and I turned the vacuum back on and proceeded to clean up the mess on my bed and previously clean carpet.

Then I went back to the kitchen, where I immediately smelled burning oatmeal!  "Ahhhh!! My oatmeal!" I grabbed the pot, splashing the molten goo upon myself (Remember?) while I poured what wasn't burnt into another pot, and dropped the scummy, burnt-on-oatmeal pot into the sink to soak.

It was just 11 am, but I felt like I had experienced entire week's worth of whining, fighting, mess-making and misbehaving. 

Somehow I slogged my way through a minimal amount of schoolwork for the day and made the kids some lunch.  I fired off a prayer to God, asking for patience, but I continued to feel horribly overwhelmed and ill-equipped to handle my kids.

With nap time on the horizon, I relinquished control and told the kids to either play downstairs or in their rooms, and I plopped my 3 year old on my bed in front of his favorite cartoon so I could hopefully procure just a few moments of peace.  I locked my door and shut myself into the bathroom.

I wish I could tell you that I had some sort of epiphany that suddenly changed my perspective and made sense of my day.

I felt like laying on the floor, covering my head with a towel and crying or swearing or maybe I would just close my eyes and try not to think anymore as everything within me wanted to give up.

Instead, I took a look in the mirror and realized that I should take a shower.  A long, steamy, potentially relaxing shower - ALONE.  So I did.  And miraculously, no-one was whining at me, and there were no messes being made inside that lovely-lonely shower stall.

Finally, I was feeling a little bit less stressed, and definitely a lot cleaner.  I shut off the water, and took my time - didn't rush out of the room to take care of the kids because, from what I could hear, they were just playing and no one was in a state of emergency.  I took the time to put on some yummy smelling lotion.  I trimmed my nails and brushed my hair. 

I spent time taking care of ME, and I began to feel a little bit better about life.

I'm not sharing this to belittle my children and my life as a VERY BUSY stay-at-home mom.  I'm also not trying to minimize the importance of my faith, and seeking the kind of peace that only God can give.  However, once in a while, you have to ask if you are treating yourself with care and kindness. 

Once in a while, a mom (or dad) needs a time-out.  Doing something as simple as showering, using lotion and ignoring my kids for all of 23 minutes didn't change my life or magically turn my children into little angels.  But, for a few moments I could breath, and because of that, I walked out a better (slightly less stressed-out) mom.  I was ready to take on a little more of what this day was dishing out... at least until nap-time.

Facebook Folly

Facebook hurt my feelings today.

Sometimes Facebook hurts your feelings when no-one "likes" your photo or status.  Or maybe you post something meaningful and heartfelt and receive no comments.

Other times, Facebook is hurtful if you check your friends list, and notice that someone "dumped" you as a friend.  That's what happened to me today.  I was the victim of an "un-friending".

The silly thing - I don't even know when exactly it happened.  I don't know the fateful hour when this person decided to clean-up their friends list and wipe me from their newsfeed.

And I honestly felt crushed... but then I began to reason with myself - am I acting like a Jr. High school kid?  Does social media really have that much power over my emotions?

Too bad I'm a softie.  'Cuz it hurts.

However, it does give me cause to question how much "approval" I seek from such a fickle, artificial environment.  Facebook may provide more accessible, often light-hearted access to relationships.  Often, these are people whom I wouldn't physically be able to remain in contact with over the years due to time and/or distance - but, once again, it doesn't offer a true representation of humanity.

Even I am guilty of carefully wording status updates, to ensure they are received a certain way (I hope).  I also avoid commenting on political/religious/parenting/philosophical debates because I don't want to bother with unpleasantness during my "social media break-time". 

Then... there are the profile photos that are so carefully selected to look "better than real life" and display me in the best possible light.

I can't even imagine if Facebook was in "real-time" to the degree that my profile photo was a current image of myself - no matter what I was wearing, what my hair looked like, whether or not I was wearing make-up, and no matter where I was currently seated. (Ummm... I can't be the only one guilty of using their smart-phone in the bathroom!)

So, I've established that social media is contrived, perhaps even fake to a certain degree.  But, "real" or not, it is also very powerful.  It can make me laugh, cry, be encouraged, and even warm my heart.

Despite the "good" of Facebook, I have taken a stand and deleted Facebook off of my phone.  This is not due solely to the woes I've just pointed out, and recently being "un-friended", but because I feel that I need to have a firm grip on reality in order to fully live my life.  I don't want Facebook to replace face-time with the people who have to live with me day after day.  They are the ones who experience the unfiltered "me" and I want to give them a more devoted, attached, committed relationship.  Instead of constantly looking for approval, and connection, and even laughter in the glowing lights of a screen, I am going to look for more satisfaction in the faces of my children, husband and those with whom I am blessed to spend my time.

Face-time!

Facebook is not my umbilical cord of connection to humanity... although, my smart-phone, with it's melodic bleeps and boops throughout the day would like me to believe that the opposite is true.  So, I will silence those noises, and instead spend my days with my attention tuned to the laughter of my children - to the words they are waiting to speak, and to the emotions that they wish to share.

Hello, reality!

Cleaning Up... Again!

There comes a point in time when I can no longer identify the food stains on the floor, and I know that I must do a thorough cleaning and mop up the mess.  Last week, our family took turns having the flu, so there was an awful lot of laying around, feeling tired, and looking the other way when someone spilled their cereal or a piece of peanut-butter toast went face down on the floor, under the table.

So this morning, knowing that we would have company tonight for my husbands birthday, I decided to clean the kitchen "for real".

I ignored the children's school-work, instead content with the fact that they were happily playing together - using their imaginations.

I swept, I wiped walls, and I mopped the floor until every splotch and smear was removed.  The table sparkled, the floors were damp but clean and the dishes were all either being washed in the dishwasher, or put away!  Ahhhh.... for a few moments I basked in the simple pleasure of cleanliness.

One hour later...

Salt and food coloring drippings from our craft made a trail from table to sink.

My 3 year old had peed on the floor.

Two children decided to fight over a bowl of sticky dipping sauce from our lunch (mmm... somosas!) and it resulted in splatters all over the two children, all over the table, and all over the floor!

"Why do I bother to mop!??!!!" I said (or maybe yelled or shrieked or perhaps wailed out) to the children.  My heart was pounding, my eyes bulged out, my blood was boiling and my frustration over-the-top!

With a deep sigh, I told the kids "Don't move a muscle!" as their clothing and bare arms glistened with dripping sauce; forming puddles and spots all over the now unclean floor.

I grabbed a dishcloth, wiped them clean and sent them to change.

My floor was sticky.

My life, somehow became undone as I battled the emotions that I've been seeking to contain and control.

I don't want to be angry.  I don't want to "cry over spilled milk", as they say.

But it never seems to end....

And I wondered, for a moment, what it feels like to be Father God, looking down on this mess of a world.

He sees every broken heart, every lonely soul, every angry thought, every desperate action.

He sees all of my mistakes and failings as a mother, wife, friend... but never says to me "Why do I bother to clean you up???"

Instead, "His mercies are new every morning." (Lamentations 3:23)

His "righteousness like the waves of the sea", washing over me; again and again - no matter how many times I fail. (Isaiah 48:18)

I'm humbled by a God whose love never fails, or dries up, or gives up on me.  It continues, and I can always depend upon it; like I know that the sun will rise tomorrow, and the next day, and next week, and next year...

As I am renewed and empowered by this grace and mercy, I have strength to mop the floor again...

But, concerning all my adorable little mess-makers... I'm pretty sure it's naptime.

 

If Life Could Be Fixed With A Glue Gun...

The new, oversize Frog stuffie has lost an eye.

Moms are meant to fix those things, and sew on buttons that rattled around in the dryer, pulled loose from someone's favorite sweater.

Moms are supposed to keep the house clean, too.  Most days I scatter myself around the house, pushing one load into the washer, dumping one load on the bed, then answer the child who asked "How do you spell 'considerate'?" and then chase the buck-naked three year old out of the pantry where he was trying to climb the shelves and steal some chocolate chips.

So I didn't get around to dusting... mopping... but at least a toilet was cleaned when I gave myself a "time-out" for five minutes.

I could never finish all the tasks on the "To Do" list.  So I am once again in the process of determining priorities.  I ask myself: What is urgent, vital, required?
  
What really matters?

I'd rather have the contented accomplishment of a meaningful, heartfelt conversation with my child(ren) than know that I gave the bathrooms a thorough cleaning.  I'd rather teach my children character than chemistry.  Yet, I know I can't forgo academic pursuits in their entirety just to pursue warm fuzzies and endless snuggle-time.

I'm on the prowl for a life-change; a change of me and my focuses and direction; so that I can use my time wisely.  Because it really does go by in a blink.  SUDDENLY, I am the mother of six children.  SUDDENLY, I have a teenager.  SUDDENLY, my kids will be grown up and leaving home, one by one.

I want to do things that really matter.  I want to set my priorities properly.  How will I make the right decisions?

I was reading an article about a homeschooling mom who was burnt-out and asking for advice, and the advice given was to

FIRST FIND VISION,
then
SET PRIORITIES.

It makes sense.  I need to know my destination before consulting Google maps for directions.

I have a feeling that this isn't as simple as it sounds.  I'm not going to take this lightly as I tweak, adjust, modify, dissect, and amputate areas of my attitude, hopes, ideas and life.  Much consultation will be done on my knees, in prayer, as I seek God's plans and vision for my family.

For now, given the daunting task ahead of me, I'll fix the simple.  Time to get the glue gun and stick Mr. Frog's eye back where it belongs. 

New Season

-17*C and so much snow!

On a day like today, I actually started browsing the "last minute vacation deals" on various websites, feeling that if I could just find the right deal, I could fly my family (six kids and all) to a warm, tropical, white sand beach where we could relax and soak up some sun.  Pushing the fantasy aside, I instead browned chicken in a large stainless steel pot, preparing a hearty, stick-to-your-ribs stew for our family's dinner tonight.

Since I don't have an extra $7000 sitting around for an impromptu getaway, I could turn up the heat and the kids and I could get out our favorite summer shorts and tank tops.  Better yet, as an overt denial to this wretchedly bone-chilling weather, I could just prance around outside in a sundress, shake my fist at the falling snowflakes and scream out: "Winter, be gone!!!"

Okay, that would be some serious denial.  And I might freak out the neighbors... and my children.  (My husband? ...not so much!) 

Reality and circumstances dictate that I accept the changing of seasons - my very life depends upon it (unless I want to die of hypothermia).

For many months now, I've been struggling to return to the blogosphere and write about my feelings, revelations, activities and life-lessons.  Since the late summer, I've even had the same theme in my mind of a blog that I wanted to write, entitled "sabotage".  I wanted to express how we, ourselves can sabotage our personal success and even emotional health by making poor or negative choices.  For example (one of the easiest to pick on) is eating unhealthy.  You know that you "should" eat a variety of fruits and vegetables, and not fill yourself up on cheese puffs and Mars bars, but you give in continually and end up tired, sick, and overweight.

For me, the idea of sabotage came with the realization that I am personally responsible for much of my success in life.  I make choices that influence my emotions, physical health and spiritual health.  If I dwell in the past failures or frustrations or hurts, I may very well be sabotaging my ability to enter into happiness.  I could become fixated on how weary I felt last winter, and expect this winter to be a repeat of that unhappiness. 

At the beginning of this post, I talked about the need to accept when a season is changing.  You can't live the exact same way in the winter as you did in the summer.  You have to get the shovel out of the garage, put on some tall boots and mitts and deal with the snow.  (Or, be like a teenager I know and wear a stylish coat and cute little shoes with no socks and look pretty while being cold!)

I've been sensing for my life, with this new year, that I'm entering a new season.  I'll admit it - the last few years have been filled with some incredible challenges - renovations, new baby, living with relatives, pastoring a church, trying to homeschool, and being iron deficient!  We entered into a time of major transition this fall and had a flurry of activity as we scrambled to complete renovations on our house, sell it and move back to the 'big city' for my husband's new job.  Now that the dust is beginning to settle, I'm getting the feeling that I should expect life to be different.  Of course we live in a different house, are attending a different church and are seeing different friends - that's not what I'm talking about.  I'm talking about my expectations and hopes and my emotional outlook.  I sense a new season in life... where I don't have to expect most days to be a struggle, but where I can enjoy the tasks I have at hand instead of dreading them and feeling exhausted.

A changing of seasons requires a change of mindset. 

"Onward and upward!"
-C.S.Lewis The Horse and His Boy

T.G.I.M.!

What's going on? Isn't it supposed to be T.G.I.F.? 

Sure, that is the traditional acronym that many of us are familiar - whether in the context of casual Friday, or the traditional after-work appys to be shared with friends, or in my case - the drop-in swimming and gym time at the YMCA for my kids.  Or maybe you simply sigh it in relief: THANK GOD, it's Friday.... and you're just thankful that tomorrow you can sleep in, and relax, and zone out.

So here I am, blogging: Thank God It's Monday! Why?

Monday is probably the day where you get back into your work week and know you've got 5 long days ahead of you.  Or maybe it's the start of a hard week of studying and writing papers... Or maybe, like me, your days and weeks blur.  My schedule changes so little whether it is a Tuesday or Saturday - I still have little kids to care for, diapers to change, meals to cook, and important lessons of character and virtue to instill in my lovely, active brood. Yet there is something about Monday.  It is symbolic - the day we are expected to plunge into our regular (non-weekend, non-relaxing) activities.  Monday is the day that we roll up our sleeves, whether we like it or not, and say "Alright... better get at it!"

Okay, so if you agree with my above statement, then here's the reason for T.G.I.M.:  Monday is your chance to get started on a new week, a new habit, a new way of living; a new YOU! Every week, Monday rolls around and you get another crack at it, another chance to live this new week really well. Consider it a "Happy New Week" not at all unlike the freshness of a new year.

What does this week hold for you?  What would you change and do differently than you did last week? Whether it involves working harder, breaking habits, living more purposefully or just relishing the fact that you never have to go through last week again, TODAY IS A NEW DAY (and Monday, the fresh start of a new week)!
  

"Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old.  Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." -Isaiah 43:18,19

 

My Dad

A little tribute to my dad:
I grew up knowing a dad with rough hands, usually stained by grease from working on our "newest" older vehicle, or from helping fix a friend's broken down vehicle. If it wasn't grease, it was drywall dust or paint from a reno job that he was working on in the evening, to help pay the bills of putting his kids through Christian school or helping us pay for a youth group event or other needs we had.
He's always been very generous and I'm looking forward to my Papa coming this weekend to visit... and, as usual, helping us work on our house!
Happy Father's Day, to all the hard-working Dads out there...!