Post Category → motherhood

learning

This morning, I’m thinking about:

“spend me.”

And how I say that to the Lord all the time — all the time — and yet, I’m disappointed when I’m spent and there’s none left for me. Silly, right? I want the satisfaction of giving and living for the Lord, but I also want the rest and ease of having. Classic “have your cake and eat it, too” syndrome, I guess.

So yes, I’m thinking about how I shouldn’t be surprised that when I say, “Spend me,” I end up feeling spent.

(And I can trust God to nourish and nurture my soul along the way.)

flexibility

and how it’s not flexible unless after getting pulled and stretched and totally re-shaped, you bounce back to “on track.” If the stretching leaves you totally bent out of shape, then you’re not being flexible.

And that flexibility requires grace. So much grace. It requires enthusiasm for serving the Lord every single morning. It requires that cynicism and frustration and resentment get checked at the door. It requires that you constantly be asking, How do I need to stretch today? It means not getting angry when you work so hard to accommodate today’s needs, only to have tomorrow bring something completely new.

And most of all it requires that you always maintain the kinetic memory of “home”: only Jesus.

Yes, it’s not early bedtimes or dinner at a quiet table or chores all done or 5 days in a row of uninterrupted mornings. (Those are nice, and certainly can help.)

My soul’s center isn’t A Routine Day, it’s Jesus.

bits of life

It’s been way too many years (okay, only 3, but still…) since I experienced fall on the East Coast. And oh, how I love it. And I’ve never known autumn to arrive so on cue. I swear, the trees were all a dull green on September 20, and then September 21 — BAM! Orange! Red! Everywhere!

After haircuts on the afternoon of the 21st, we couldn’t help but be struck by the bright, almost neon, orange maple trees across the street from my sister’s salon. Actually, it was Jameson who was struck:

“Look! Mom! Those trees are orange! Do you see that, Mom?”

“Beautiful, huh? Isn’t it amazing?”

Pause while he takes in the wonder.

“Mom, I never saw that before!”

And it’s true, I realized. He hasn’t ever seen a gorgeous, dressed-for-autumn maple tree. And he’s totally in love with this transformation happening all around us, and happily made a little bouquet of red leaves for our table. Perfect.

*****

Of course, along with dramatic gray skies spread over vibrant foliage, the sniffles have also arrived. We had a good, long night of interrupted sleep that ended with Mama and two stuffed up boys all “sleeping” together.

This morning called for warm cornmeal mush, cozy new socks, and a candle. Not so bad, right?

*****

And then there’s this adorableness of Jameson suddenly deciding to set up a hotel. He’s got a little makeshift counter, an old computer keyboard, and he sweetly asks, “Would you like a bedroom?” (type, type, type.) “Okay, five dollars.” (type, type, type.) Then he leads his customer (William, 9 times out of 10), to one of our rooms. Although just now, I heard him lead William to our hall closet, open the doors, and say, “Here’s our elevator. Will this be okay, or do you want another elevator?”

And of course, William just agrees with it all: “Da.”

almost 4.

Jameson’s birthday is in a few short days. The “year of 3 and 1” is almost over, and I’ll miss it. Tons.

Except that I do love the bigger boy my first baby is becoming.

My recent favorite Jameson quote:

A few days ago, the boys each got a red helium balloon at the hardware store. When they got them home, the game was (of course) to let go of the string, and then wait for a grown up to come fetch the out-of-reach balloon. Once, when William let go of the string, Jameson managed to grab the string. When I expressed how impressed I was with his ability to get the balloon, Jameson explained, “Well, it’s just because my arms are very… [paused while he examined his outstretched arms, trying to find just the right word…] they’re very reachy.”

Ah.

our week

Our week without Ryan was:

a check-up for Jameson (“What a strong, intelligent young boy you have, mom,” said the doctor. Well. That’s rather obvious, isn’t it?)

annuals, perennials, and mulch from the nursery.

weeding, spraying, planting, mulching.

bike-riding, baseball, bike-riding, basketball, bike-riding, little people, and bike-riding.

books and snuggles and a slow morning or two.

playdates with friends. (pb&j is so much more fun when shared, isn’t it?)

a sweet auntie who slept in our yellow guest room and helped keep the boogey man at bay.

only making dinner when I felt so inclined, and especially being glad to have had the inclination for this.

the farmer’s market, and two little boys who love running through the park after that long, arduous ordeal of selecting salad greens. (“Look, Mom, the pay-gus!”, exclaims Jameson. That would asparagus, for all of you who were wondering.)

a special make-memories night of lots of kid games, rolling out pizza dough with a pint-sized rolling pin, and bedtime stories with auntie.

missing Ryan, but deciding to love a week with these two boys I love (which isn’t too hard to do, you know.) Because we may have other weeks to ourselves, but they won’t be this age, doing these things. And right now is pretty much as special as it gets. I am challenged every single day, but the truth is, being a mother to two little guys, my little ducklings who follow me wherever I go, is just amazing.

boys.

The headline in today’s Rural News (our local paper) made my heart race:

“Gas & Steam Engine Show June 12, 13”

I grabbed the paper and excitedly got all the details. Tractors, trains, wagons, horses — and all down the road at our local museum. I was probably grinning ear to ear, when suddenly I just had to laugh at myself.

Gas & Steam Engine Show? Really? Really?? That’s what got my attention and made my heart race?

I am a mother of boys. I had no idea how much fun that would be, but it’s a blast.

jameson

I laid William in his crib, tucked his sweet fists just so, caressed his little toes, and arranged his quilt over his sleeping form. Then I turned to Jameson, asleep in his bed, and —

Oh my.

I love that boy.

His face, so peaceful, so beautifully formed. Perfect eyelashes, slender nose, soft cheeks. My boy.

I leaned down to touch his hair and smelled baby shampoo. A sob caught in my throat. Only a few more years of scrubbing that head, singing rub-a-dub songs, and then he’ll be a big boy, taking his own showers. I wish it could last forever.

He’s suddenly so tall, so independent, so passionate. There are more and more struggles to listen to Mama and obey, but I find that more and more, I really like him. I watch him and see glimpses of who he’ll be, and it makes me smile. Sometimes, I even think, I can’t wait to know him in 20 years —

But I can’t imagine how much I’ll miss the three year old sleeping sweetheart who still needs his Mama.