Well it took baby #3 to finally do something that I wish I would have done with all of my babies...a newborn photo shoot.  Taking baby pictures is always something I think I can just do on my own...and then of course never do.  What with all of the nursing and napping and recovering from labor and such.  It just never seems to happen and usually I just manage to eek out one or two good shots for the birth announcement and call it a day, missing out on that precious, brief, FLEETING stage of infancy.

   And so this time it was such a treat to have Kari from Kari Renee Photography  come over so I never even had to leave the comfort of our home, and capture our sweet William in his natural habitat.

    It is another summer of babies, with a few I know expecting their little bundles any day now, a few of us (including myself) due in a couple of months and a few more due later in August.  I feel like each of my children so far has been born in a wave of little ones among my peers, and it is so sweet and special to share this sacred time of growing new life with others.

   I cherish pregnancy a little more each time.  That is NOT to say it is "better" each time, because rather I have found the opposite to be true.  My first was my "easiest" (as easy as pregnancy can be), the second a little bit harder, and this third one, a little harder yet.  But I say that I cherish it more each time because, truly, I do.

   With Jocelyn everything was so new and foreign and I sort of floated along in a magical fairy land and didn't really take the time to appreciate it.  I was just getting started and with your first it feels like you will be pregnant for 1,000 more times and you just don't really take time to savor it.

   Jocelyn was only 9 months old when I discovered I was pregnant with Charlotte, and so "taking time to savor pregnancy" was the last thing on my mind, needless to say.  I was a little bit whirling from surprise and "what have we dones" and slight embarrassment at having two so close together.  I didn't tell tell people for a really long time for some reason, and so that helped the pregnancy fly by and before I knew it?  She was here.

   But this time, it's different.  With a long break in between this pregnancy and my last, and the realization that I will be turning 30 this summer and will not be young forever, and also with the realization that no, I actually won't be pregnant a thousand times like it seems at first and my days of carrying life in a womb are numbered......I find myself cherishing it.

  That doesn't mean that the nausea was any less awful in the first trimester or that sleeping in the 3rd trimester is any more comfortable or that I want to be done and meet my baby any less.  I still feel like I'm waddling through Costco and I carefully estimate the value of any item I happen to drop to see if it is even remotely worth picking back up.  And so it doesnt mean those things don't bother me, it simply means that I am trying to embrace the process, because I know it simply will not last forever.

   June will come, our precious son will arrive, and who knows if/when/how many times I will get to experience that magical, MAGICAL moment again in my life again.  Plus I need to write a post like this to look back on and be a gentle reminder to my June self, to not go completely bat-crazy.

   And so, without further ado, here are some of my simple survival tips for the 3rd Trimester:

• STAY BUSY.   

      I have discovered that nothing helps the time pass more quickly than a full calendar.   Some days I definitely overdo it, like the day that I decided to plant my flower beds on the same day of throwing a birthday party and hosting 12 people and cleaning my house....and I always pay for that later.  But like I said, it still makes time fly!  So say YES to things.  I have made a few simple changes to our schedule that have helped the weeks zip by.  I babysit twice a week and clean the mill where Randy works once a week. I attend a Bible study once a week and a small group of women 1-2x a month.  These things will obviously look differently for everyone, but the key is to just say YES to things.  Then of course you add in all the other activities and events a month can bring, and it fills up fast!  I am hoping I won't have to endure much time "overdue" with this baby, but if he's anything like his sisters, I can expect nothing else!  And so staying busy during that time is even more critical in preserving one's sanity.  I surprised Randy with a date to a college baseball game on Charlotte's due date and it was (and still is) such a fun, special memory.  I assure you, the worst you can do is sit around at home going crazy!

• BUILD COMMUNITY.

   This past weekend we decided to forgo tracking down babysitting and went out on a family date.  I always end up wondering why we don't do that more often!  Randy got a few groceries at Costco while all 3 ladies napped in the car (ha) and then we treated ourselves to burgers and fries and a little mall shopping.  Thanks to the man in my life, I even got to browse a little sans children.  Hence this selfie, because every child-free dressing room moment no matter how brief or fleeting,  is worthy of commemoration.
 
   We're just rollin' along here at 25 weeks, and trying to take it one day at a time.  Actually, I'm feeling pretty great, all things considered, but the anticipation with this pregnancy this third time around is KILLING ME.  June. Feels So. Far. Away!  But...we're only 3 weeks away from the third trimester so, hope remains.

   The littlest Smucker is getting seriously active at this point. Rolling and turning and round-house kicking and perfecting his/her Olympic gymnast tryout routine in there.  I have to admit it's definitely one of my favorite stages.  Towards the end they move less and less and you feel more and more like a beached whale, so it's just pretty great right now.  My lungs still have room to breathe, I'm still sleeping pretty soundly, and as long as the calendar months keep flipping by, we will all be just fine.

(Just don't ask my husband that if we happen to go overdue.)

Five things I'm looking forward to with Smucker baby #3: (other than the obvious snuggling, smelling their sweet little head, and covering them with kisses)

1. Reading books.  With Jocelyn I POURED through books because she was a super-slow nurser, and I didn't have an iPhone.  With Charlotte....I don't think I finished a single book because of aforementioned phone.  How sad is that?  I am really hoping to get back to reading with this little one.
2. Not sweating the small stuff.  I know that is probably what every pregnant woman says/thinks and then every postpartum woman forgets.  Because, let's be honest, it's super hard not to do.  You feel like your house is in the toilet, the laundry is a laughable notion, and supper just isn't even happening.  You feel like a failure in pretty much everything except for keeping babies alive.  And I know I did a lot of that with my first two.  But THIS time, I am determined to do some preparations before hand like frozen meals, and get myself into some sort of routine, and NOT freak out about how little it seems I am getting done.   Hold me to it.

3. Taking more pictures.  This one is kind of a no-brainer but for as many pictures as I think I take, I always look back later and feel like there is never enough of that itsy-bitsy teeny-tiny age.  So sad.

4. Getting lots of fresh air.  Still not sure how this is going to look.  Baby-wearing while pushing the double stroller?  Or maybe just getting Jocelyn a bike with training wheels so she could pedal along? However it happens, Oregon summers are wayyyyy too short to spend the days inside.

5. Watching my girls as big sisters.  I seriously CANNOT WAIT to witness them welcoming this little one into their lives.  I'm pretty sure they're planning on it being another girl, but I'm sure they will come to love a little brother just as much. ;) They ask me about the baby more often than anyone else, they plant kisses on my growing belly and they profess their love for this new sibling with reckless abandon.  I seriously get a little giddy thinking about sharing that milestone with them.....a new baby, a new name, a new family member, a new friend.

They roll up their sleeves and dive in.

   Armed with cute little aprons and great determination, they set out to help me make dinner.  And although adorable, this mini kitchen crew effort usually results in one, giant mess.

   The ingredients rarely end up precisely where they should, and often a few extra ingredients are thrown in.  The sugar spills and creates a crunchy, sticky film that immediately attracts the ants, and their little hands, so determined to get those dishes sparkly clean, slosh sudsy water up and over the sides of the sink and into puddles onto the floor.  Eggs crack and ooze, flour dusts every surface and little buttery fingerprints leave their mark on the cupboards.

   And let's be honest, often (o.k. basically all of the time) I am tired and impatient and I just want to get the marathon of dinner prep and clean up done and over with as quickly as possible so I can enjoy my cup of coffee in peace.  I want to chase my little ones into a different room and focus on my work and not have mini people at my heels.

But when I posted this image last night to Instagram, this was part of my caption....

   "I told myself a long time ago that I would try my hardest to never say no to help of any kind.  Changing a diaper, sweeping, cooking...I want them to grow up with memories of our entire home being accessible to them.  A place they were wanted and needed and capable of helping.  Because let's be honest....we all want our teenagers to help but if you only start then it's usually too late."  

 I'm not sure many things frustrate me more than when I hear mothers venting about how their teenagers/young adults won't do anything to help out around the house, but then you take a little jog down memory lane and find that these are the same mothers who wouldn't ever let their children do anything, for fear of them doing it wrong.

  I know of a middle aged mom today who struggles with letting her elderly mother help her with anything, because she doesn't have any fond memories of the reverse.....when she was the child, helping HER mom.

   Think of it......if I chase them out of the kitchen and keep them an arm's length away from all of my projects and to-dos until the day I DO want them to help, they will have no interest in that.  And why would they?  They would have no childhood memories of me praising them for a job well done or thanking them for all the wonderful help they give me, even if the truth looks more like a giant mess and MORE work for me.

   And looking even beyond that, what about when I have gray hair (and hopefully, lots of smile wrinkles) and I desperately want to help them in their own homes?  Decorating, cooking, cleaning,.....but none of my children want me anywhere near their kitchen.  Why?  Because I never allowed them to be part of mine.

    And so I write this, because I want to freeze this moment and use it to remind myself, over and over again, when I'm tired, when I'm weary, to choose the better thing.  When the laundry is so neatly folded and I just want to be DONE and those tiny voice offer to help put some away?  Let them.  Sure, a few piles will end up on the floor.  Sure, the towels will not be re-folded the right way.  But you will rest easy that night, knowing that you invested in your future.  Because you invested in them.

   And they will walk away from that experience, with no memory whatsoever of the dropped socks and panties trailing behind them, but with a glowing sense of pride that they helped mama.   They were needed.  Capable.  Qualified.  Worthy.  Desired.  Valuable.

And I never want to forget it.


 

   I wrote this post a long time ago....back on that precious, precious day I found out about our third little blessing.  Of course I couldn't share it right away because we hadn't announced it yet,  but then even when I could finally share it, I didn't want to.  It still felt too special.

   But today, with Christmas just around the corner and the pageant behind me and the feelings of playing the role of the mother of Jesus so fresh in my mind....it was just time to share.  I am bursting with the promise of a new life and I can't keep quiet about it!  Is there anything in this world more miraculous than an unborn child?!

   The awe never fully fades.  The wonder never dies.  The amazement, that God would bless me with a life growing inside.  And each time I wander into the kitchen and see this strip of black and white photos on my fridge of our tiny little one, with its fists clenched and tiny little nose, ears, toes, shaped so perfectly and heart beating so soundly, I am overwhelmed with gratitude and joy.

So, here it is.  My thoughts on that day.
_________________________________________________________________________________


I just found out about you today.

   And your daddy isn't home from work yet and I haven't told your big sisters and so right now in this moment, I am the only person on the face of this whole, wide world that knows about you.  Besides Jesus, of course.  It is truly, quite literally, just you and me.  Our little secret.

  And I'll admit, I love it.  Don't get me wrong,  I will relish telling your daddy and I will shout it to the whole world, but for right now, I am just drinking in this moment and just wrapping it tight around me like the coziest blanket and breathing it in.

My baby.

   I hadn't been planning on taking a test today.  I thought it was a little bit early still and so I was going to wait until at least tomorrow....but then about half-way through the day I just couldn't stand it any longer.  I had to know.

   I loaded up your sisters in the bike cart and I pedaled as fast as my legs would take me to the little convenience store in town.  I snatched the one (and only!) pregnancy test from the shelf and immediately felt self-conscious buying only that and so I grabbed some Ketchup too (like that's going to make it any less obvious).

   I paid as quickly as possible and loaded them up again and was on my way.  I remember that ride so clearly....a sunny October day with a hint of the crispness of fall in the air.  As soon as I got home I rushed inside and distracted the girls with something and escaped to the bathroom.

I never knew 3 minutes could stretch so long.

   Before I even saw the result (and I had to shield it from my eyes with my hand so I wouldn't peek) I was in tears.  Tears because the emotion was so strong.  It's such an insane adrenaline rush....knowing that in literally seconds your life could be changed forever or your hopes dashed.  I couldn't get myself to look and I couldn't tear myself away.  And just like that the time was up and it was time to look.....

Two pink lines.

   I sagged to the floor in relief.  Tears poured down my face as I lifted my arms and cried "Thank-you Jesus!  Thank-you Jesus. ThankyouJesus".  Over and over and over again.

   It hadn't even been that long.  For the years and years that some people have to endure, waiting, trying, hoping praying....what I endured was nothing.  NOTHING.  It was only a few months.  But that was enough for me.  Enough for me to know that a day can feel like a month, a month like a year, and a few months, a lifetime.

   I cannot even being to imagine the pain of year after year of dashed hopes.  But this time, it wasn't a "surprise".  It wasn't "unexpected" or half-planned, or a shock to the system provoking those "What have we done??!" feelings.  This time, it was what I hoped for and prayed for almost every single day.

   It is a painful truth of humanity that we never fully appreciate something until we don't have it, or fear that we may not ever have it again.  That is when it becomes something so much more than ordinary.  Something infinitely more than the mundane.  That is when it becomes a MIRACLE.

I am so grateful.  I am so grateful.  I am so grateful.

   I get to be your mama!  I get to grow you, deliver you, raise you, nurture you, and mother you, if it is God's will that I have the privilege of seeing it all come to pass.  Who am I with such a high and holy privilege?  3 children.  THREE children!  That will call me mama.

Thank-you Jesus.

Love,
-Your mama

   It's always hard to know how to start up again after a long absence from the keys....lately I have felt so distant, so distracted, and so disconnected from my writing, blog, or even my own thoughts for that matter it has been nearly impossible to think about catching up in this little space. 

But now I feel it is time. 

   Because I have something I really, really, want to share, and it is breaking past all of the writer's blockage erected mainly by my own piles of insecurity, and I'm tired of not writing because of me, because I really, truly, have something worth saying.

   June 2015 is quickly shaping up to be one of the best months of my life................






 
   Indeed, my friend, you counted THREE balloons in those pictures.  Three!  Soon I will be a mama (well I guess I sort of already am) to three precious little souls!  What a privilege!  What a gift! What a treasure.

    If I was surprised by the quickness of the first two, I was surprised by my intense desire to see that positive test with this one.  It didn't happen right away like the others, and I found myself thinking, dreaming, seeing, hearing and feeling BABIES everywhere.  I just so badly wanted another.

   I'll be honest, I have been sort of sicker than normal with this one, which of course is sending all sorts of images of a little boy dancing through my head, when really it could just be that I'm getting...well...older. 

   The yuckiness and fatigue and food aversion, and general crappy-state-of-being has done it's best to diminish my excitement, but let me tell you....I. Can. Not. WAIT.  We are so thrilled to be adding to our family, and we are so grateful to God for blessing us yet another time with this precious, precious gift of life!  Who are we that we should be entrusted to raise yet another soul?  I feel so grateful, so thankful, and so humbled. 

   So.  That explains some of the break.  I have felt the "pregnancy brain" fog roll in like usual and completely crowd my brain until the simplest of decisions loom up tall and impossible and everything in my life seems bigger and harder and crazier and just.....MORE.  The hormones, the estrogen, the emotions, the sickness, all smushing in there alongside the waves of joy, the tears of expectation, and the DESPERATE gratitude.....it all just took me like a tidal wave this time. 



   And those moccasins?  I was shopping with my sis-in-law who spotted them and they were one of those "I'm not even pregnant but they are $8.95 and so I cannot pass these up and I'll just really hope I have a reason to use them someday!" buys, and now my heart does little flips whenever I see them.    
   Oh and then there was the secret-keeping.....quite possibly my LEAST favorite phase of the entire pregnancy.  I mean, first of all, it's just hard, am I right??!  You're bursting at the seams to tell everyone and anyone and you can tell NO one, at first.   And then you have to tell everyone in some kind of certain order, but your family and friends are far away, and you feel like sleeping 15 hours a day, and not making 1,500 phone calls.

   So then you hatch a plan to tell everyone in a special way, because somehow sidling up to them at the next family reunion and saying, "Hey, I'm preggers" just doesn't have a ring to it.

  So you plan outfits, and pray for nice weather, and plan a photo shoot, and decide to hand out pictures (that double as Thanksgiving/Christmas cards of course, we're not superhuman here) but then obviously, you have to tell your photographers.  So you do, which is no problem at all except that then your husband really wants to tell your 3 year-old daughter. 

So you give in.

   And you tell a toddler, who then proceeds to tell her Sunday school teacher, and cousins, and friends, and anyone she can really, before you've had a chance to tell ANYONE YET.  

   So all our well-laid plans worked about.....40% of the time, and I felt like I was just making everyone mad at me some way or another and it was so frustrating because I really was just trying my best to tell in a special way and I just felt like laying in bed ALL DAY EVERY DAY and figured my feeble efforts had to count for something, ya know? 

   ANYWAY.  I am thrilled and tickled and super, super jazzed that it is officially out of the bag, and the secrecy is over.  We are really, really excited about this little one, and I am so glad I can stop secret-guarding and just be happy again.  Just be excited, and thrilled, and giddy while dreaming of June, and holding a brand new little Smucker babe in my arms. 

   And now I have 1,735,462 more reasons to wish summer would hurry up and get here. 

Happy Tuesday, everyone.

It's happened.

   Randy and I are officially those cheesy parents who sit on the couch after the kids are in bed and grin stupidly at each other and start in with all of the "Can you believe what Jocelyn said today?  Oh that was just the cutest thing ever."

   "Oh I know, and when Charlotte just came running to you, exclaiming 'It's a big one!' about her poop? I just can't get enough of that."

   And we recount the funny tales of the day, the dinnertime conversations, the great achievements and the priceless little quotes and we both can't get over how much we love them right now.  And I know, I know, it's all making you a bit squeamish right now and kind of want to scratch out your eyeballs a little, but too bad, because it's TRUE.

   We are just loving the stages of their lives right now.  Every single bit of it.  Now, does that mean that every day is perfect?  Flawless?  Without bad behavior or discipline?  Obviously not.  That would be pretty silly to assume.

   It just means that we're grateful for all of it.  And yes, even for the not-so-wonderful parts, because we still GET TO BE THEIR PARENTS.  No one else gets that privilege.  They are ours.  OURS!  And I am just so thankful (now remind me of that tomorrow when the potty training one has an accident and the older one thinks she's the boss of everything).

   But for now, I'll go kiss their angelic sleeping faces and breathe in GRATITUDE that I get the honor of this role.  I get to be Mama to them.  For all my flaws and faults and trust me, there's many, I still am their one and only mama, and always will be.

What a generous, generous God we serve.

It was certainly, definitely, positively, "one of those days".

   Jocelyn flounces into my bed at the crack of dawn and announces that "There is a spider."  I fling off the covers and freak out to find....there is a spider.  But it is far away on the wall, close to the ceiling.  Crisis averted, sleep ruined.

   Then she didn't want to wear her dress.  They fought over the farm animals.  They wanted to watch a show.  They couldn't seem to figure out how to play, and seemed singularly focused on ruining my morning, and came pretty close to pulling it off.

   We scrambled to get ready to go out the door and to the park to meet a friend.  I set out the swimsuits.  They lost the swimsuits.  I fixed their hair.  They messed it up.  I put on shoes.  They took them off.

  And finally, when I'd just about had it, (and you know what I mean by "had it")...it got just a little bit worse.

   Whoever it was that said, "People are more important than things" had probably not just witnessed their two-year-old peeing/pooping onto their favorite rug.

   So then of course I spent the next 15 minutes when we should have been going out the door on my hands and knees, trying to scrub and clean and spray and completely remove the germs and the smell and the......wait a second, what is this water on the bathroom floor?  Is it water?  Is it pee?  And while I'm standing there contemplating the Great Liquid mystery, Jocelyn kicks a beach ball right at me, into the bathroom, splashing and bouncing through aforementioned Mystery Liquid and into my face.

I thought I'd had it before, but now I had truly, thoroughly HAD IT.

  I let out a strangled sort of screech/scream, (you know the kind) and felt my cool, calm collectedness just vanish in a vapor of steam.  I hollered at Jocelyn to remove herself and the ball from the premises, I ushered Charlotte out of the bathroom probably a little too hastily and I tried to keep myself from launching something through the bathroom window.

   Much later, when we were all still in one piece and in the car headed toward our destination, (although missing the hidden swimsuits) I passed a pile of roadkill that looked suspiciously like one of our chickens.  Great.  Just fantastic. (It turned out later to be a false alarm, thank goodness)

   Then we reached the park, but the girls didn't really feel like playing, because Jocelyn had a runny nose (which is the end of the world for her) and they were both feeling a little bit shy and clingish, and let's be honest, no one's in a good mood after that kind of a morning.

   So my friend and I tried to talk, and our kids tried to play, but Jocelyn was drinking her coffee (not her coffee, HER coffee.  My friend's. Grrrr.)  and my girls were whining for lunch and it wasn't even 11:00 am yet.

This is always the point in time where I wonder incredulously why I ever even leave my house at all.

   So we proceed down to the river to swim, which of course they have no swim stuff for because they LIKE TO HIDE THINGS.  So I just let Jocelyn wear her dress (white, of course) and Charlotte wear nothing but her diaper.  Neither are too happy about the situation.

   They complain about the tomatoes in the wraps.  (they LOVE tomatoes)  The sun is in their eyes.  The rocks are hot to walk on.  The water is cold.  On and on it went.

   In spite of it all, we actually managed (miraculously) to have a really, wonderful conversation and left feeling very uplifted, and very encouraged.  I am so grateful for friends I can be real with.  I can be vulnerable with, I can share with, I can identify with, and I can walk through the trenches with.  Thank-you Jesus.

   Before we parted ways she gave me a LOVELY gift, and I gave her a loaf of homemade bread. Which would be a great idea except for the fact that she is eating gluten-free.  *smacks forehead*  How could I forget that?!

   I was all too eager to see that day come to an end.  But before the day was over, and the goodnights were said, I snapped the picture above and posted it to Instagram with this caption:

  "Today was definitely 'one of those days'. It was hard. Bone hard. Leaving me drained and empty at the end. I met a friend at the park and those moments spent together sharing about our lives and being real and vulnerable about our struggles were glorious. But it seemed on every other front, my day was dead-set against me. I feel so often lately like I am completely failing as a mother. I lose my patience, I show my frustration, and I flail wildly in the dark for wisdom. Help me Jesus! I need you to help me be the mother they deserve. And when it's all said and done, help me remember this day, not as the day that I was at my wits end with Jocelyn, but as the day that the light caught her hair and shone golden as she, clad in princess dress and rain boots, tried her best to help her daddy clean up outside."

And it was in that moment that I knew.  

   I knew that in 10 years from now I wouldn't remember any of the runny noses, lost swimsuits, whining and frustrations.  I wouldn't remember the spoiled plans, melt-downs, or the bone-dry exhaustion at the end of the day.  

I would simply remember being their mama, and I would be grateful for ALL of it. 

I was so unprepared for this part of mothering.

   I knew it would feel like you were trying to pull your bottom lip up over your head to give birth, and it did.  I knew I would get sappy and sentimental the first time I heard my baby laugh or say my name, and I did. I knew that discipline and consistency would be my greatest weaknesses in parenting, and they are.  I knew I would want a break from my children, and then miss them like crazy when I was gone, and I do.

But what I didn't know, was how utterly painful it would be for me, to fail.

   Whenever I lose my patience, raise my voice, and cause those little tears to fall, I crumple into a pile of self-loathing and feel like there is no way out.




The trouble with raising children is that they are not adults yet.

   They don't understand "I'm tired" or "I'm just really frustrated right now" or "Mama needs a break".  They only understand that you are Mama, and you are supposed to be cheerful and patient and loving.....always.

   You are the hands that hold them, comfort them, and soothe all their sorrows away, and so you aren't really allowed to have an "off day".  You are supposed to kiss away their tears, not cry ones of your own.  You are there to rock them when they are tired, sing them to sleep, and tuck them into bed.....not lie down yourself and shut out the world because you are just too exhausted to function.

And perhaps most difficult of all is coming to the realization that they have no concept of grace.

   They don't realize that mommies make mistakes, that mommies need second chances like anybody else, that mommies need forgiveness and time to grow and to learn and FOR GOODNESS SAKES A HEAPING, SKY-HIGH PILE OF GRACE.





   Children are too little to realize that as young and new as they are to this world.......that is how young and new their Mama is to mothering.  

   If we were all adults, it would be so easy to order pizza and pile on the couch and paint each other's toenails and laugh about how flawed their Mama is.  We would discuss my shortcomings and I would ask for forgiveness, and after agreeing that I certainly need a whole lot of grace, they would give it to me.

At least I hope that they would.

   But for now, here, in this moment and in this time of their lives, they don't realize any of that.  They just see me, their Mama, as Someone who lives somewhere above grace.  I don't need it because, well....I shouldn't need it.  I am perfect.  I make no mistakes.  I have all of the answers.  I am sweet and loving and kind and gentle because....well, I birthed them.  I nursed them.  I swaddled them.  What else could I possibly be?

   And the first time the curtain is pulled back and the real Wizard of Oz is revealed, I always want to shrivel up in a hole and hide away from the world until I am infallible in their eyes again.  It hurts when they realize that a mere human has been playing this Mighty Role all along.

Oh, it hurts.

   It hurts when I see it in their eyes.....the profound disappointment of the realization that I can be wrong.  I can make a mistake.  I can raise my voice when I should have just quietly instructed.  I can lunge and lurch when I should calmly direct.  I can glare and scowl when I should take a moment to just get off of the phone and address the issue quietly.

The list goes on and on and on.



 
   I feel like the day I gave birth back in 2010 I was officially the World's Greatest Mom.  And then each day since then, I've discovered a little more and more how I'm really just not.  I'm just a human. A flawed, fallen, pitiful, desperate, insecure, sinful human.  And all the while I'm wrestling this blasted humanity I am trying to be everything that they deserve.  And I fall short SO many times.

   And so it is that we Mamas of little ones, all the while fighting our own demons and needing grace more than ever before, have to somehow live in spite of it.  But without ANY grace. God gives us grace.  He lavishes it.  And our husbands give us grace, thank goodness.  But for now, our children aren't going to give us grace. And that's o.k.

   That's o.k. because it gives me a teeny, tiny sliver of a glimpse of what God goes through with us.  Giving and giving and feeling like it is mostly a one-way avenue of grace.  He gives us grace, and we soak it up and curse and complain and thrash around in our humanity.

   And so I will choose to be patient one more day.  And the day after that, and the day after that.  And it is hard.  It is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.   But if Jesus walked the road to that cross, than certainly I can learn a little patience.

At least I like to think that I can. 

 

   O.k. I lied.  ONE more Hawaiian post because I totally forgot to even address the teensy tinsy topic of leaving your kids behind.  *Gasp*

   I know that for some of you, reading that first line is reason enough to raise your hackles and make your reach for your pitchforks......while for others of you, that first line makes you want to pat me on the back and say, "You go, mama!"

   I wish I could look across to the other side of this screen and decipher which one you are.....but alas, I cannot, and so I will just carry on with my one-sided conversation, and hopefully you will share some of your thoughts in the comment section.  I'd love to hear them.

   First things first, don't be fooled.  Just because I leave my kids to go on trips with my husband, doesn't mean that it's EASY for me.

   I thought about them every day in Hawaii.  I would stop and think to myself,  right in the middle of another perfect day, "Oh they would just love this so much!"  and ache for them to be there.  I would resist the urge to hug stranger's children.   I tried to keep my texts/calls home to a minimum but I wanted to know how they were doing ALL THE TIME.  Before we left I wrapped up little gifts for them to open each day, with messages written on the paper about how much we loved and missed them.......I knew they would be having a non-stop party with their Grandma, but that didn't mean I wouldn't miss them like crazy.

And I did.


   And once again, I know that for some of you, these feelings would not be signs of healthy attachment to my children, but they would be symptoms of guilt.  Proof somehow, that I was doing something wrong.  That I had made the wrong choice.

   On the 4th when we were waiting for the fireworks to begin, we were sitting on the lawn next to a young couple with two sweet little girls.  I couldn't help myself and commented on them, saying I was missing mine back at home.  The mother replied, "Oh yes, I suppose the fireworks might be a little scary for little ones."  And I said, "Oh, actually I meant back HOME home, like, back in Oregon."  To which she seemed surprised and replied, "Oh.....I don't think I could ever do that."

*crickets*

   It was so awkward.  We'd met like, 7 seconds ago and were exchanging smiles and hi-how-are-yous and judgment.  Which I suppose is o.k.....it IS a free country and all (hence the fireworks)  but I guess I would just be way too intimidated to pass out parenting advice to someone after having met them, oh I don't know, 7 seconds ago?!  And you know, it wasn't even the fact that she disagreed with me.  Because that's OK. Really it is.  I know lots and lots of women that disagree with what I did and would never leave their children to go on a trip to Hawaii with their husband.  And that's o.k.

But it's OK for me to do it, too.

   And since when did we decide that if we have a particular stance on a issue, it then needs to become upheld by everyone else?  This applies to soooooo many things when it comes to motherhood I could literally lose track counting.

Vaccinations
Schooling options
Breastfeeding
Natural childbirth
Spanking
Working moms
Safety
Food
Scheduling

   And about a million other things.  Why can't we just all help one another out and encourage each other when we're feeling down and look out for one another?  Why don't we choose to raise our pitchforks when we see abused or abandoned or aborted children, and put them down when we see amazing women all around us sincerely trying their very hardest to be the best wife/mother they can be?  Why don't we love a little more, and judge a little less?

   I know this, because I used to be more of a pitchfork-waving mom.  Certain topics would only have to be whispered about and I would feel my blood start to boil and it would be all I could do to keep from launching into battle. I like to think that I have come a long way from that mom today.  I like to think that I extend grace a little more often.  Or at least I really, truly try to.

   So why do I leave my kids?  Because my husband and I became a family on the day we exchanged vows.....NOT on the day that I saw those two pink little lines on that pregnancy test.  We were ALREADY a family.  Children joined our family, but they didn't make us a family.  If children had made us a family, then our family would disappear on the day that our children are grown and out of the house.  And sadly, in our culture today, that happens way too often.

   It is JUST AS IMPORTANT  to take time for your "original family" as it is to take time for your "growing family".  Taking time as a couple to reconnect, focus on one another and invest in one another is priceless.  And for some reason, it has gotten a pretty bad rep.  It has been titled "neglect" and "selfishness" and lots of other ugly things, just because you are temporarily leaving your children to devote your time and energy and attention to the foundation of your marriage, and the foundation of your family.  

   But even as important as I believe it to be to have alone time together as a couple, I need to extend grace to couples who choose not to do that.  And I will try.  But the road runs both ways, sister, and so you also need to extend grace to the couples who choose differently.

I love my kids.

   I'll shout it from the mountaintops, I'll proclaim it across the seas.  I love my kids so much.  TOO much, to let them become the utmost and topmost priority in my life, shutting out all others.  Too much to let them replace my husband.  Since I love them so much, I will try to love my husband even more. Because what they need to know and see and hear more than anything else, is that Jesus loves them, Daddy loves Mama, and Mama loves Daddy.

That is what they need to know.

   And they need to know it, not in a vague, theoretical way, but they need to KNOW it.  Deep down to the core of their being they need to feel it in their gut, without ever even being taught, that their parents love each other, and will never leave each other.

Nothing will give them greater security.
Nothing will bring them more peace.
Nothing will make them feel more loved.

   And so yes, I love my kids, and I leave my kids.  I promise them that I will come back, and I do. And NOTHING beats the feeling of that heart-in-your-throat, salty-teared moment when they run into your arms again.

    Believe me, I cherish our times all together as a family more and more each passing day (like our camping trip this past weekend).  But I have found that in our times alone as a couple, we acquire a deeper connection and understanding and knowledge of one another, that can't just be "picked up" when the kids are out of the house one day.  It is cultivated, nurtured and grown, just like children are.

   And you're right....children grow like weeds and I don't want to miss a single moment of it!!  But neither do I want to neglect the growth of my marriage until we find ourselves many years later,  mere strangers in an empty house.

   And so, my dear warrior-mamas everywhere, let's put down the pitchforks, and give a little grace today.

   My dearest Jocelyn,

   Right now you're all about princess dresses and twirly skirts and braids in a crown.  You beg to wear your fanciest clothes everywhere you go, and plead for your hair to be "just like mama". You ask to snuggle, to be held, to be comforted.  

   You love your doll babies with a fierce, mama love.  You pamper them, fuss over them and make sure everything is just right in their world.  I have to keep a close eye on you around real babies because sometimes you love on them a little too close for comfort.  


 
   I love to watch you as you sleep, your hair curling in soft tendrils and framing your face. You are the picture of peace...of tranquility. You are my angel-baby.  

But all is not always so in your little world.

   Sometimes you remind me that you are fully human.  Like the other day when in a fit of toddler rage, you bit me.  So hard it left a mark for days. 

   Those emotions...the ones so sweet and sensitive that have an enormous capacity to feel and to love...the ones that can swell with such joy and passion?  Those same emotions can flame just as quickly with frustration and anger, lashing out to wound.  It reminds me how often I react in a similar manner. Maybe not in a physical way, but just as painfully to those I love.



   The only surprise, is that it surprises me.  It seems society has taught mothers to expect their little ones to be perfect, resulting in shock or personal offense when their toddlers act out.  Hence the term, the "terrible twos". Or "terribly threes".  Or any phrase we can use as a pithy excuse for our children acting badly.  And it all seems a little silly considering we all start out pretty terrible.  

   Why should it come as such a surprise when children begin to act as their very nature intends?  Selfish, unreasonable, stubborn and indignant.  We ALL begin this way.  It is not a "stage" or a phase they need to outgrow.  

They need to be shown how to love.
Taught how to forgive.
Encouraged to show compassion.
Led by example, how to be patient.

   And while I am far from having it all figured out, I like to think that we are making progress.  That we are learning and growing and figuring this all out together.  I like to think about how innocent and precious and perfect you seem while you sleep, and reflect on the weighty glory of privilege I have to raise you.  

To show you.
To teach you.
To encourage you.
To lead you.



   So I will try my best, not to take offense when your human nature shows its colors.  Because after all, I have a human nature that looks very much the same.  And even though I will fail you, many, many times.  I hope that you can give me grace, as I try to extend that grace right back, as we walk this journey together.

I love you in the morning and in the afternoon, 
I love you in the evening, and underneath the moon....

-Mama