Post Category → motherhood

it’s hard work

Sometimes I’m so busy raising kids that I feel like I’m missing their lives. (Does that even make sense? Yes? No?)

That sensation hit strong a couple of weeks ago. I was feeling really bad for myself. Feeling like these kids are growing up so quickly, and I’m missing the whole thing because they’re such handfuls.

And then I sort of laughed at myself. Laughed because I get so, so, so sidetracked sometimes!

The Holy Spirit reminded me: The point of all this is not sentimentality. It is not the “How Many Warm Fuzzies Can You Have” game. A string of exhausting days with few-and-far-between picture perfect moments does not necessarily equal failure. (My melancholy mind always jumps right to failure. Sorry if that seems dramatic. Ha!)

The point (He reminded me) is
— young boys to men
— fools to wisdom seekers
— darkness to light

There is very little that is cute, warm, or fuzzy about those things. They are serious, war-waging, blood-sweat-and-tears things.

So should I feel like I’m a failure when I’m exhausted? When I feel utterly spent? No. I’m in the trenches and should be giving 100%.

When we were first married, Ryan would sometimes remark on how tired he was. Our dear landlord would smile and say, in his Down East way, “Well, it’s Friday evening. If you’re not tired on Friday evening, you’re doing something wrong.”

And sometimes I have to remind myself of the same thing: Stop being an idealist. Real life is work, and being tired isn’t a sign of failure. (Yes, it’s a sign of weakness, but I’m learning to be content even in that.) Do I need to cave to the flesh when I’m tired? No. There’s grace for that. And joy, too.

But this is not vacation; this is work. This is not my destination; I am moving forward. There are gifts along the way that fill my mama-heart with incredible joy — but that is not the end goal. To see Jesus formed in them. That will be the greatest joy.

gifts

This morning the boys woke up and quickly donned crocs and sweatshirts (in “secret”, with my help, and lots of whispers and asking me to plug my ears…)

Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny day. We were able to visit friends and sit in their yard for hours, watching kids play. Then a party celebrating the wonderful accomplishments of a dear friend from Cameroon (with amazing, amazing food. Wow.)

The boys and I walked home from church today. I just couldn’t get in the car when I stepped out of church and smelled spring. Now they’re napping, my husband and brother are hashing out javascript issues, and I’ve just cut a fresh bunch of daffodils. Down the road, sisters are preparing dinner for all of the local Sinclair members — a gift to Brietta and me for Mother’s Day.

And actually, all of these things — birds singing, baby kisses, washing dirty feet before bed, a house that is home even if it’s a bit messy — so many things are gifts.

lemon, honey, and an awesome little family

This is supposed to be day two of our trip to Maine. And maybe it will be later tonight. But for now, I’m just plain ol’ sick. Ridiculously sore glands resulting in sore throat, tender ears, topped off with a good fever and case of chills/aches. I knew it was there, that Virus, when I woke up yesterday morning, though I did my best to persevere a bit. By last night, there was no denying it: I am down for the count.

Today, therefore, was a planned pj day / don’t bother Mama too much day. Does anyone else get a little scared when you embark on those days? I mean, it could go really, really wrong. My kids are sweet and all, but they’re not angels, they make messes, and my house isn’t self-cleaning. I get nervous.

So, since I went into this sick day with such a remarkable heap of faith, I thought I should stop, pause, and say how blessed I have been.

Jameson, on his way to bed last night: “Mama, would you like me to pray for you?” (followed by the sweetest, most thorough and sincere prayer. Like, he really cared!)

This morning he announced, as soon as we were all up (at a very early hour), “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll take care of William and Beatrice and even Mama!”

He and William then proceeded to get milk, syrup, juice, and dishes onto the table without me even asking.

He even offered to try his hand at pb&j. Really, he would!

(Aside: he’s just discovered that he’s been failing at his “L” sound, and so now is flipping his little tongue with such gusto every time he says one! I haven’t heard an L pronounced so distinctly since I was an accompanist in diction classes! It’s so, so cute.)

William came in and stood by the couch, took my hand, and asked quietly if I would sing a little ABC with him, please? (He, however, doesn’t even attempt L’s, so actually, he asked to sing a widow ABT. He doesn’t do real well with S yet, either.) We sang together, and his eyes just sparkled.

Jameson heard me turning on the TV and requested that we watch some “Tessa” together. That would be Ina Garten, and she has been our very favorite since he was about 18 months old.

Later I heard he and William in the kitchen, up to something. When I asked about their activity, Jameson said, “Oh, I’m just making a chore chart for my day. How do you spell, ‘Pick up for Mama’?” ARE YOU KIDDING?

(Should I be sick more often?)

And lastly, a cute William anecdote that I just can’t forget. I was reading The Long Winter yesterday at naptime. We were reading about Laura and Carrie’s harrowing journey from their schoolhouse to Pa’s store through a terrible blizzard. They couldn’t see the adults they were supposed to be following, but at one point, “Laura suddenly felt Miss Garland’s coat.” William’s eyes were HUGE with intensity and concern, and he blurted out, “But Mama! Was Miss Garland in her coat?” I forget how very literal, and yet how very magical, the world is to a three year old.

Speaking of magical, our next book came from the library. Roxaboxen is the biggest hit we’ve had in awhile, I think. One read through, and the boys were hooked. It’s their world, after all.

P.S. And Ryan brought home the very cutest card for me. Yes, I am very loved.

one weekend in maine: day one

Sometimes, you’re sitting at the breakfast table on a Thursday morning. And you say to your husband, “Now that your dad is back from NZ, we should plan a trip to go visit.” And your husband says, “Let’s go tomorrow!”

At least, that’s what sometimes happens in my world.

So, Friday drive, Saturday visit, Sunday drive again — that was my weekend. And yes, it’s a long drive. My kids are peaches. I think all of those early plane trips to and from California made them thankful to at least be in a car for 8 hours. (I know I sure am!) A bag of books, a snack, the wonderful anticipation of when Mama will say yes to watching a movie, singing along to worship music, and just staring contentedly out the window — it keeps them awfully happy. Or maybe they’re just pretty happy kids. Either way, it’s fun to travel together.

day one:

first things first: chocolate chip muffins

early morning preparations

on the road

beatrice figured out that there was a movie behind her

our favorite Burlington stop

a dramatic day for driving through beautiful mountains

happy to watch a movie!

our fearless leader

us

she needs me

Tonight, for only the second time in her little life, Beatrice needed to be walked to sleep. (Usually she’s happy to just nurse and cuddle and drift off, but tonight a new tooth left her beside herself, poor babe.) After trying to solace her and lay down with her, I finally scooped her up and held her close as I walked and walked. I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the window — sweet little hand resting peacefully on my shoulder, eyes closed, finally resting. I held her closer. She needs me.

Isn’t that so much of what being a mother is — being needed, and responding to the point of deep personal sacrifice? I’ve been thinking about that a lot, lately, and hopefully will be able to get those thoughts out clearly at some point. But for now, it hovers in the back of my mind, making me rethink motives and reactions.

Sometimes it’s a sweet baby who really doesn’t ask for much at all, and of course I’ll cuddle you, you growing-too-fast baby doll! Sometimes the need is from an exhausted and wound up boy whose wildness is just not quite as adorable. Still, he needs me. He needs me to not snap, to not just get him in bed as fast as I can and be done. He needs me to remind, to train, to guide, and to do it all with patience that speaks of love.

To pour out our lives — that is the call. And there is grace.

reading to my kids

One of our very favorite story books is this, Patsy Scarry’s Big Bedtime Storybook. It’s out of print, but the good news is that you can buy it for about a dollar! My dad would read these charming little stories to us at bedtime, and now the boys ask for them all the time. The illustrations are charming, the characters endearing, and the individual stories only a few short minutes long — but each very captivating. I can’t recommend it highly enough!

I really enjoy reading to my kids. Books increase their vocabulary, their listening and comprehension ability, and their attention spans — not to mention their imaginations and their world! It’s so much fun to see the little wheels turning, or watch them burst out laughing at some silly antic.

Having them enjoy being read to has been very important to me, and I’ve done a few things to make reading a highlight of our day:

— When we sit to read a book, only Mama touches the pages. I have an eager beaver who’s always antsy about what’s next, but this rule has helped focus and saved us from torn pages.

— For the most part, we don’t ask questions during stories. Obviously I make exceptions, but questions seem to often derail storytime. Silliness is always there lurking beneath the surface!

— I read books that I think are fun, beautiful, educational, or otherwise endearing. How can I expect them to like reading if I make them sit still only to hear some drivel with awful illustrations? I can’t! Also, I can emote excitement about what we’re reading when I’m actually excited. That matters! I’ve kept a running book list of titles to either purchase or get from the library, and that is very helpful.

— Books are special. They get a book for Easter, books as gifts at birthdays and Christmas, and new books through the year are a big deal. I try to rotate a basket of seasonal or holiday-themed books so that even old titles get a fresh appeal regularly.

— We read chapter books at naptime, and I’m constantly surprised by how much even William learns from just listening quietly, with very little explanation. It’s a great way to unwind, as well as expand their little worlds in a way story books don’t. We’re well on our way through the Little House books, and Jameson just said this morning, “Oh, I thought for a minute we were eating lunch, but it’s breakfast! I wish it was lunch so we could hurry up and read The Long Winter!” And William is in love with Almanzo and his moccasins. Whatever floats your boat, kid!

None of those things are revolutionary, I know, but I thought I’d pass along the basic things that have helped thus far!