This isn't an advice piece. Just thoughts of a mom:
I watch her as she lays in her bed. Her eyes glitter in the light of the night-light. I stroke her soft, rosy, chubby cheek. She had been crying. It is understandable. She has just had her constant comfort taken away.
I talk to her in a soft tone to comfort her.
"You're a big girl now. I know this is hard."
A flood of thoughts overwhelm me. My heart bursts with love. I just want to take away her pain. I want to help her to understand: This won't be the first milestone. This won't be the first hurdle. There will be so many more.
I hope that she will understand someday though, that I would go through it for her. That she will understand that I love her and her sisters more than anything. That she will understand that I am trying my best to always be a comfort, to always let them know they are loved, and that when life brings the lemons I will help you squeeze them for lemonade.
Her eyes get heavy. I become hopeful that we will both make it through the night. Her breathing becomes more steady. All she wants is to know that she is ok. All she wants to know is that even though that constant comfort is gone, that something else will always be there: to watch over her, to be another comfort, and to feel loved.
I stop stroking her cheek and rest my hand on her chest. Her breathing is getting deeper and her eyes are getting heavier. She finally rolls over on her side. It is a good sign. A sign of comfort.
I watch her as she stares at the light and I wonder what she is thinking. She looks like an angel.
Finally, her breath is settled and deep. Those heavy sparkling eyes have closed.
She is asleep
Be at peace, my child. Be at peace. Mommy loves you so much. I will always be there for you.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
The Mommy Tantrum
I haven't been able to write in a while. The last time I wrote, I was about to move. Then I had to get settled. After that, I had to find a subject to write about. Haha!
We have now moved and are settled. This house is different than our other house. There are no baby gates up to keep the kids out and my sanity in. They have free reign of the house. It is a blessing and a curse.
On one hand, I really love how it has made the relationship between my girls and me closer. On the other hand, it has really also tested that relationship and how I deal with them. Today, I read something I posted on facebook last year about responding to my children rather than reacting to them. What an irritating thing; especially since the kids having free reign is the biggest test for my patience. There is a lot of truth in that statement though. It has made me want to be more patient and more consistent. Of course, if you sow consistency, you will reap patience because if you're consistent enough they will get it.
HOWEVER, the mommy tantrum still happens. Here is how it all began:
The girls have eaten breakfast. I have had my coffee, and I am now focused on getting dinner into the crock (fabulous and easy dinner by the way. I should really post it.) Things start of with me telling them that since they are done eating, it is time to leave the kitchen. There is nothing in there for them to play with. The kitchen is not a play area; especially since they have a MASSIVE play room upstairs(with a wonderful play kitchen my wonderful cousin gave me) AND Lauralei's room downstairs. It has been hard for me to figure out the rules for this house since being here. I think this is a good rule. Sure, I will let them help me cook dinner sometimes, but this rule is good rule to have. Helping me cook does not equal playing anyways. So it's a good rule.
Alright, they leave, and it is time for my next task. Our laundry room is off of the kitchen, so they are coming in asking me questions while I am retrieving the laundry. They think it's time to play in the kitchen again. I repeat the rule. This happens several times. Not to mention, by the time my mommy tantrum starts to happen, Lucy and Lainey have already been in time-out twice for unrelated behavior. So, my frustration is getting higher. My tolerance and patience is getting lower. So far I feel that I have managed my emotions well.
It's time to do laundry. Do you know what it's like folding laundry with three kids? I have my helper (Lucy). I have my cuddler (Lainey). And then, I have my 'time to throw the clothes everywhere because it's fun" child (Do I even have to name her? The child is wild. I love her for it though). So that is three kids all up in my business. When I insist they go play for a bit, apparently that means in the kitchen. I start to hear the noises: the "what's in here" opening of the cabinets. The 'I'm going to pour mommy's drink into the sink'. Granted, Lucy thought she was helping, but I had just poured that water. (Parenting is so friggin' frustrating. You don't want to break her little helper spirit, but you also don't want to waste something you just poured.) After hearing all this going on, I throw a tantrum.
"GET OUT OF THE KIIITTTCHHHEEEEEENNNNNN!!!!!! IF YOU'RE NOT EATING, GET OUT OF THERE. IF I SEE ANYONE IN THERE, AND THEY'RE NOT EATING, THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES!!"
We have all asked ourselves the question, "Why does it take me yelling to get them to listen?' I have seen that meme a lot lately. I have tried the quieter approach where I almost whisper. That worked for a while, but then Lucy and Lainey started to back talk and the whole "but we..." No! No! I just told you to do something. I have told you several times. DO IT!
Then I read this and I am even more frustrated because I feel like a crappy parent. Not to mention, when the book (The Conscious Parent) says stuff about how our kids are people and not animals. So I feel like I wanting to teach them to do what I say when I say it is treating them less like a human being and more like a dog. So what is it, really? I don't want them to mindless drones, but I don't want to lose my shit all of the time either. The most frustrating thing about this is how I always feel like I never have control of me or my surroundings. In fact, I just had another tantrum while writing this. They probably do this stuff because I lack the self control and instill it in them. One vicious cycle after another. I'll figure out what's best for us eventually. Some days are better than others, and maybe it's just a matter of letting things go.
I really meant for this to be funnier than it is. Sorry about that.
We have now moved and are settled. This house is different than our other house. There are no baby gates up to keep the kids out and my sanity in. They have free reign of the house. It is a blessing and a curse.
On one hand, I really love how it has made the relationship between my girls and me closer. On the other hand, it has really also tested that relationship and how I deal with them. Today, I read something I posted on facebook last year about responding to my children rather than reacting to them. What an irritating thing; especially since the kids having free reign is the biggest test for my patience. There is a lot of truth in that statement though. It has made me want to be more patient and more consistent. Of course, if you sow consistency, you will reap patience because if you're consistent enough they will get it.
HOWEVER, the mommy tantrum still happens. Here is how it all began:
The girls have eaten breakfast. I have had my coffee, and I am now focused on getting dinner into the crock (fabulous and easy dinner by the way. I should really post it.) Things start of with me telling them that since they are done eating, it is time to leave the kitchen. There is nothing in there for them to play with. The kitchen is not a play area; especially since they have a MASSIVE play room upstairs(with a wonderful play kitchen my wonderful cousin gave me) AND Lauralei's room downstairs. It has been hard for me to figure out the rules for this house since being here. I think this is a good rule. Sure, I will let them help me cook dinner sometimes, but this rule is good rule to have. Helping me cook does not equal playing anyways. So it's a good rule.
Alright, they leave, and it is time for my next task. Our laundry room is off of the kitchen, so they are coming in asking me questions while I am retrieving the laundry. They think it's time to play in the kitchen again. I repeat the rule. This happens several times. Not to mention, by the time my mommy tantrum starts to happen, Lucy and Lainey have already been in time-out twice for unrelated behavior. So, my frustration is getting higher. My tolerance and patience is getting lower. So far I feel that I have managed my emotions well.
It's time to do laundry. Do you know what it's like folding laundry with three kids? I have my helper (Lucy). I have my cuddler (Lainey). And then, I have my 'time to throw the clothes everywhere because it's fun" child (Do I even have to name her? The child is wild. I love her for it though). So that is three kids all up in my business. When I insist they go play for a bit, apparently that means in the kitchen. I start to hear the noises: the "what's in here" opening of the cabinets. The 'I'm going to pour mommy's drink into the sink'. Granted, Lucy thought she was helping, but I had just poured that water. (Parenting is so friggin' frustrating. You don't want to break her little helper spirit, but you also don't want to waste something you just poured.) After hearing all this going on, I throw a tantrum.
"GET OUT OF THE KIIITTTCHHHEEEEEENNNNNN!!!!!! IF YOU'RE NOT EATING, GET OUT OF THERE. IF I SEE ANYONE IN THERE, AND THEY'RE NOT EATING, THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES!!"
We have all asked ourselves the question, "Why does it take me yelling to get them to listen?' I have seen that meme a lot lately. I have tried the quieter approach where I almost whisper. That worked for a while, but then Lucy and Lainey started to back talk and the whole "but we..." No! No! I just told you to do something. I have told you several times. DO IT!
Then I read this and I am even more frustrated because I feel like a crappy parent. Not to mention, when the book (The Conscious Parent) says stuff about how our kids are people and not animals. So I feel like I wanting to teach them to do what I say when I say it is treating them less like a human being and more like a dog. So what is it, really? I don't want them to mindless drones, but I don't want to lose my shit all of the time either. The most frustrating thing about this is how I always feel like I never have control of me or my surroundings. In fact, I just had another tantrum while writing this. They probably do this stuff because I lack the self control and instill it in them. One vicious cycle after another. I'll figure out what's best for us eventually. Some days are better than others, and maybe it's just a matter of letting things go.
I really meant for this to be funnier than it is. Sorry about that.
Friday, May 22, 2015
Iron Sharpens Iron
I have had something laid upon my heart for the past couple of days. In order to make my point, I feel that it is imperative to begin at the beginning, and how I have become the iron that has formed today.
Ten years ago, I was in my family's church sanctuary talking to the missions coordinator and leader. I was on my way to India in a few weeks, and I was pretty scared. I had had a few dreams, and I was in the process of telling my mom and the missions leader about them. At one point, I claimed that I felt like I was going to die there. I did. Not in the physical way, but in a different way. See, I wasn't a very good person. Even though I was totally a Bible thumper, I wasn't very kind. I was a legalistic snob and thought that things should be a certain way. If you have ever heard Evanesence's Everybody's Fool, you could get a good picture(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhC1pI76Rqo). Haha!
Anyways, for the first two weeks I was with a group. It was amazing.I really learned what it was like to be a real team and the body of Christ. At one point, the leaders said that we were the strongest group they had ever worked with. I had taken pride in that because I didn't think I had done well the first time I went to India. There was a moment with the group, though, where it all began.
We were at a Hindu celebration off of the Varanasi river. It was an incredible time to observe and pray; however, when we were walking back it was jam-packed with people. Not one person had any personal space. As I was walking, I felt something. When I looked down it was a man's hand in between my legs. This is a very personal thing that I am sharing. I realize that, but this is where a part of me died. I told another girl when we got to the car and she suggested telling our mission's leader Alan. I didn't want to make it a big deal. I still don't want to make it a big deal. There was so much that happened in India that took me forever to forgive myself over. That being said, I think the reason I was so fearful after the group left was because of this moment. This, added to the type of person I had chosen to be at the time, showed me that I really didn't have the grasp on life that I thought I had.
In other words, when I got back from India, I was shaken. Mistake after mistake lead to losing my identity. I didn't know who I was, but worse was not knowing who I wanted to be. Of course, coming back after that lead to a rebellion. . Not only was there a rebellion from me, but I dealt with a spiritual attack. Now, I know not everyone believes in spiritual warfare, and that is fine. I am sure the things that happened to me could be explained by science and it was triggered by stress. It was really Jesus who saved me from it though. It is why my heart will always be His.
About a month or so after I got back, I started having panic attacks. I have had panic attacks since then, but they haven't been like the ones I had had then. During the panic attacks, I had hallucinations. The ones I remember the most where three women. The first was while I was washing my face. An innocent girl with blonde curly hair poked her head out of the shower, and was pointing at something. The second was a woman dressed in black, and swimming in darkness. That is really the only way I can describe it. The third was a really REALLY angry Hispanic woman yelling at me in Spanish. I mean think of a woman throwing a tantrum in Spanish.
The second attack was something called "sleep paralysis". It happened to me a lot back then. Almost every time I slept. Now, I have had it on occasion since then and know what to do. Sleep paralysis is where you can't move or speak while asleep or upon waking up. It is pretty terrifying. Imagine being awake, but you can't open your eyes. You can't move your mouth. Its like you are locked inside your body.
So, how did these things stop? Well, this was all a part of God using his iron to sharpen iron. This humbling and traumatic experience really showed me that not everything is so black and white. Meeting my husband really helped. He was such a safe-haven and could even understand my experience to a certain extent(not the touching part). As I moved through the relationship though, Sammie wasn't going to allow me to become co-dependent on him like I was in past relationships. Finally, amongst the time when we were about to fall apart, I was able to find myself through the word of God again. The years to follow, and even now, I still make decisions of who I want to be and what type of Christian I want to be. That legalistic snob died inside of me though. And I praise God because I was released from the bondage and idol of legalism.
This entire story has a point. Mostly it has to do with the past two days of debates on Christianity that I have had. It was really saddening to me because at one point it was just Christians bickering at Christians. The entire time I was yelling on the inside "this isn't attractive or encouraging to non-believers!!" I mean in the big picture that is the goal, right? At the end of the conversation a non-believer even said, "if this is how believers talk to one another, then I don't want to be a part of this." Ouch, but it is so true. A Christian telling another Christian they're going to hell or that they're lukewarm is ineffective and it does damage to us as a witness.
Ephesians 4 talks about the unity of the body. "I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, 2 with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, 3 eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." This is what we need to do. Not only this, but this entire chapter. It was convicting and humbling to see these conversations and be a part of them. As Hamich says in the movie The Hunger Games, "Remember who the real enemy is." *Our own* flesh and the evil one. God gives us an armor for a reason. Christians must unite and do it in love. When we were a witness to the people in India, it was by words, but mostly by actions.
I could probably write more, but this is already so long. Bless you if you made it this point. I hope that my journey will be encouraging to those of you who did.
Ten years ago, I was in my family's church sanctuary talking to the missions coordinator and leader. I was on my way to India in a few weeks, and I was pretty scared. I had had a few dreams, and I was in the process of telling my mom and the missions leader about them. At one point, I claimed that I felt like I was going to die there. I did. Not in the physical way, but in a different way. See, I wasn't a very good person. Even though I was totally a Bible thumper, I wasn't very kind. I was a legalistic snob and thought that things should be a certain way. If you have ever heard Evanesence's Everybody's Fool, you could get a good picture(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhC1pI76Rqo). Haha!
Anyways, for the first two weeks I was with a group. It was amazing.I really learned what it was like to be a real team and the body of Christ. At one point, the leaders said that we were the strongest group they had ever worked with. I had taken pride in that because I didn't think I had done well the first time I went to India. There was a moment with the group, though, where it all began.
We were at a Hindu celebration off of the Varanasi river. It was an incredible time to observe and pray; however, when we were walking back it was jam-packed with people. Not one person had any personal space. As I was walking, I felt something. When I looked down it was a man's hand in between my legs. This is a very personal thing that I am sharing. I realize that, but this is where a part of me died. I told another girl when we got to the car and she suggested telling our mission's leader Alan. I didn't want to make it a big deal. I still don't want to make it a big deal. There was so much that happened in India that took me forever to forgive myself over. That being said, I think the reason I was so fearful after the group left was because of this moment. This, added to the type of person I had chosen to be at the time, showed me that I really didn't have the grasp on life that I thought I had.
In other words, when I got back from India, I was shaken. Mistake after mistake lead to losing my identity. I didn't know who I was, but worse was not knowing who I wanted to be. Of course, coming back after that lead to a rebellion. . Not only was there a rebellion from me, but I dealt with a spiritual attack. Now, I know not everyone believes in spiritual warfare, and that is fine. I am sure the things that happened to me could be explained by science and it was triggered by stress. It was really Jesus who saved me from it though. It is why my heart will always be His.
About a month or so after I got back, I started having panic attacks. I have had panic attacks since then, but they haven't been like the ones I had had then. During the panic attacks, I had hallucinations. The ones I remember the most where three women. The first was while I was washing my face. An innocent girl with blonde curly hair poked her head out of the shower, and was pointing at something. The second was a woman dressed in black, and swimming in darkness. That is really the only way I can describe it. The third was a really REALLY angry Hispanic woman yelling at me in Spanish. I mean think of a woman throwing a tantrum in Spanish.
The second attack was something called "sleep paralysis". It happened to me a lot back then. Almost every time I slept. Now, I have had it on occasion since then and know what to do. Sleep paralysis is where you can't move or speak while asleep or upon waking up. It is pretty terrifying. Imagine being awake, but you can't open your eyes. You can't move your mouth. Its like you are locked inside your body.
So, how did these things stop? Well, this was all a part of God using his iron to sharpen iron. This humbling and traumatic experience really showed me that not everything is so black and white. Meeting my husband really helped. He was such a safe-haven and could even understand my experience to a certain extent(not the touching part). As I moved through the relationship though, Sammie wasn't going to allow me to become co-dependent on him like I was in past relationships. Finally, amongst the time when we were about to fall apart, I was able to find myself through the word of God again. The years to follow, and even now, I still make decisions of who I want to be and what type of Christian I want to be. That legalistic snob died inside of me though. And I praise God because I was released from the bondage and idol of legalism.
This entire story has a point. Mostly it has to do with the past two days of debates on Christianity that I have had. It was really saddening to me because at one point it was just Christians bickering at Christians. The entire time I was yelling on the inside "this isn't attractive or encouraging to non-believers!!" I mean in the big picture that is the goal, right? At the end of the conversation a non-believer even said, "if this is how believers talk to one another, then I don't want to be a part of this." Ouch, but it is so true. A Christian telling another Christian they're going to hell or that they're lukewarm is ineffective and it does damage to us as a witness.
Ephesians 4 talks about the unity of the body. "I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, 2 with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, 3 eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." This is what we need to do. Not only this, but this entire chapter. It was convicting and humbling to see these conversations and be a part of them. As Hamich says in the movie The Hunger Games, "Remember who the real enemy is." *Our own* flesh and the evil one. God gives us an armor for a reason. Christians must unite and do it in love. When we were a witness to the people in India, it was by words, but mostly by actions.
I could probably write more, but this is already so long. Bless you if you made it this point. I hope that my journey will be encouraging to those of you who did.
Friday, May 8, 2015
Mundane mothering
Hello there!
Welcome to yet another blog from, yet, another mother. I know that there are many out there. I could understand why, though. We each do this parenting thing differently and it leads to many opinions and thoughts. Thanks to modern technology we can all get our opinion out there! Yay!
I know I have attempted this whole "blog thing" before, and haven't really succeeded. However, I just need a place to place my thoughts. Feel free to comment. I am always for bouncing ideas off one another. We, moms, need to stick together.
So, here we are, yet another day into this whole parenting thing. I was pouring another sippy-cup of milk when it hit me. A frustrating epiphany. Did my child ask me for this milk? Every one else might think that that is no big deal, but lately I have felt so frustrated with my children. They are so demanding. Lainey, at one point, got her sippy-cup, shoved it in my face, and said "more milk, please". Sure, she said the magic word-please, but a shot of anger flowed through me. I am having a hard time lately with the whole idea that my children don't actually see me as a person. They don't understand the question "Is this how you would want to be treated?". It's not for lack of trying to teach them, but am I really?
This brings me back to my point. As I stood in the kitchen, pouring the ump-teenth sippy-cup, I realize that they are demanding because of me. Can you imagine the dread of that epiphany? I was just going through the motions of parenting. And no, that's not necessarily a bad thing. The children will still live. They might be demanding, but they'll live. However, my sanity might be compromised by the time I am into my mid-forties(if not sooner).
It all starts with just going through the motions. I think we can get so caught up with life. For example, we're about to move. Things have been busy around the house, and therefore, I am more concerned with having whatever needs my child has at the time rather than teaching them. I have caught myself in this season yelling, "I AM NOT A MAID!" It has gotten so bad that Lainey will say, "Mommy, I can't pick-up. My legs aren't working." If only you could see my faces at these comments. Granted, you could probably imagine them yourself. I have even gone through Stormie Omartian's The Power of a Praying Parent. There is NO prayer in there for God to not make your children demanding. This could only mean one thing: It's up to you. Of course, I pray for the wisdom I need, but the wisdom is how to teach them. God has laid it upon my heart to read Proverbs, and I have started that. It was this moment, though, when he stopped me-like pausing a moment in a movie- and said, "There, Mary! There it is!"
It was such a convicting moment that I had to go write it down. I know I am not the only one, and I am really not giving you a solution. Except, to remember to teach your kids and not just go through each moment like you're on some assembly line. "Done with this moment! Onto the next!" And I am not reminding you because you needed it. It's more of a reminder for me that I wanted to share.
Welcome to yet another blog from, yet, another mother. I know that there are many out there. I could understand why, though. We each do this parenting thing differently and it leads to many opinions and thoughts. Thanks to modern technology we can all get our opinion out there! Yay!
I know I have attempted this whole "blog thing" before, and haven't really succeeded. However, I just need a place to place my thoughts. Feel free to comment. I am always for bouncing ideas off one another. We, moms, need to stick together.
So, here we are, yet another day into this whole parenting thing. I was pouring another sippy-cup of milk when it hit me. A frustrating epiphany. Did my child ask me for this milk? Every one else might think that that is no big deal, but lately I have felt so frustrated with my children. They are so demanding. Lainey, at one point, got her sippy-cup, shoved it in my face, and said "more milk, please". Sure, she said the magic word-please, but a shot of anger flowed through me. I am having a hard time lately with the whole idea that my children don't actually see me as a person. They don't understand the question "Is this how you would want to be treated?". It's not for lack of trying to teach them, but am I really?
This brings me back to my point. As I stood in the kitchen, pouring the ump-teenth sippy-cup, I realize that they are demanding because of me. Can you imagine the dread of that epiphany? I was just going through the motions of parenting. And no, that's not necessarily a bad thing. The children will still live. They might be demanding, but they'll live. However, my sanity might be compromised by the time I am into my mid-forties(if not sooner).
It all starts with just going through the motions. I think we can get so caught up with life. For example, we're about to move. Things have been busy around the house, and therefore, I am more concerned with having whatever needs my child has at the time rather than teaching them. I have caught myself in this season yelling, "I AM NOT A MAID!" It has gotten so bad that Lainey will say, "Mommy, I can't pick-up. My legs aren't working." If only you could see my faces at these comments. Granted, you could probably imagine them yourself. I have even gone through Stormie Omartian's The Power of a Praying Parent. There is NO prayer in there for God to not make your children demanding. This could only mean one thing: It's up to you. Of course, I pray for the wisdom I need, but the wisdom is how to teach them. God has laid it upon my heart to read Proverbs, and I have started that. It was this moment, though, when he stopped me-like pausing a moment in a movie- and said, "There, Mary! There it is!"
It was such a convicting moment that I had to go write it down. I know I am not the only one, and I am really not giving you a solution. Except, to remember to teach your kids and not just go through each moment like you're on some assembly line. "Done with this moment! Onto the next!" And I am not reminding you because you needed it. It's more of a reminder for me that I wanted to share.
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