Week 22 (too much vomit)

Last week was a blur. After a wonderful vacation, we had normal life resume and it was hard! I am still having trouble waking up early and then on Friday both kids were vomiting. They started after we drove back from an event! I hope we didn't get people sick, but literally there were no signs until, 10 seconds from home, both kids threw up. 

Vomit is my least favorite part of motherhood. I threw both kids in separate showers, threw everything I could find that had vomit on it in the wash and spent the next 30 minutes cleaning the car. I also called my husband because I needed help. As I was stripping the carseats, he pulled up and then he proceeded to spend 2 hours scrubbing, mopping, bleaching and vacuuming the car. That is how bad it was. It was AWFUL. 

Today our car still smells like vomit. It is disgusting and I have to drive an hour to Charlottesville for a dentist appointment tomorrow. I plan to cover my car in baking soda overnight and then apply EO to it before we leave bright and early in the morning. 

Becky seemed fine after her one throw up. Reuben however woke up at 11am and vomited all over his room. I put him to sleep on the floor on a camping mattress and we spent the next hour detail cleaning his room. Piles of laundry were surmounting at this point.

I think it was food poisoning? We recovered all day Saturday where there was blessedly NO MORE THROWING UP but Brian had a horrible stomach ache and low energy. I guess the three of them ate something that was bad? I can't think of what it was! I eat most things they do but have been perfectly fine, thank God! 

We skipped church on Sunday. I feel bad about it but one, I don't want to give germs (if we have any) and two we are exhausted and I'm still doing laundry. 

Anyway, on Saturday I found out I was having a girl! The kids made me a wonderful card. I thought it was a joke. I have felt so strongly that it was a boy. I even thought I saw a penis on the ultrasound at 14 weeks or whenever we had the first one. It took me all day to come to terms with it. Another girl?! We are having a girl!! I thought it was a boy. I knew it was a boy! I have never been so wrong LOL. I am still adjusting.

It's a girl! Four more months to go. 

Also this week: I completely smashed my phone. Need to figure something out because my phone is how I take pictures for my blog. Guess I'll pull out the DSLR?

Updated "Need" List

• Baby clothes at least to 6m size in the home and swaddles
• Baby Wrap for mom and carrier for dad
• Aquire crib from friend (picked up but not assembled) [thanks Hilary] 
• Sids alarm (I plan to not sleep with this baby you can laugh with me later)
• Baby play mat
• Loads of non-cloth diapers and wipes
• Dock-A-Tot (Facebook marketplace?)
• Breast Pump
• High Chair
• Baby Swing [thanks Heather]
• Postpartum/Birth Kit

And I made a baby registry. So many cute things! 

What kind of world are my children going to inherit

I don't want to leave my children a world where red vs blue. 

I don't want to leave my children a world where two sides are always at each others throat, where the divide is great and full of hate, and violence flourishes as blossoms in spring. A branch full of buds that are bent on destruction of all we have achived. A tree rooted in lies, sin, murder and greed.

I want to leave them a world where kindness is not forgotten. A world where we listen to each other and place our emotions on hold to save space for the history. A place where we respect the experiances of others. 

We are not a hive mind bent on forcing each individual to conform. 

There is always a choice.

I want to leave my children a world where they can practice their religion without persecution. A world where the smallest among us are valued and seen as precious and wonderful, and not discarded unwanted, unborn and unloved. A mother never forgets. 

My heart aches. My soul longs for the presence of my heavenly father, for the peace and safety of his everlasting kindness and love. He alone is goodness, he alone is worthy. 

I do not hold any illusions. All the facade of my youth has been discarded the day those towers fell and I watched people jump to their deaths as the floors burned above them. Those on the roof, waiting for help that never came, dashed to the ground as the buildings collapsed. I'll never forget. I was in 8th grade. The world stopped for a week, a week that felt like a year. We have never recovered.

We are not a christian nation. We are a nation of sinful humans who wreathe with greed and envy, lusting for power and willing to do anything to climb up one rung. At what cost? The cost of our morals. 

My children deserve better. 

I am powerless. But I serve a God who is powerful, everlasting, who began our world and will be there at the end, who died on the cross for my sins. Who loves, and forgives. He is what I put my hope in.

I don't want to leave my children this world, this world of deceit and lies, where you can't trust the news or the government. It shouldn't have to be this way.

They don't know yet. They are three and five and the world is full of games and trees and laugher and toast, with one exploration after another, but soon they have to grow up and what will they think, what will they say, at this mess we have left them to dealt with one day. I shudder to surmise.

What kind of world are my children going to inherit. Have we left them something we can be proud of? 

Think of them next time. Think of them, and choose differently. 

How can you look in her eyes and say

you deserve a world that was used that way

What is Happening

Somewhere around last week I realized I had not had my period since March.

I immediately panicked.

I just had a miscarriage in January! And now I'm pregnant again? Or maybe pregnant? I religiously track my period but after my miscarriage its been ALL OVER THE PLACE so I...quit. That probably wasn't the best idea, but oh well. Life happens. I am not very fertile--after each miscarriage (I've had five) it has taken me at least eight months to become pregnant again. Well, except this time. This time it took three months.

I am now experiencing nursing aversions and mild nausea. So, I am going to just call myself pregnant but I have not tested yet. I will in May. 

My main fear is I'll have another miscarriage. My next fear is that I will have something go wrong with my pregnancy. I've had mildly complicated pregnancies. I had marginal placenta previa with Reuben and severe gestational diabetes with Rebekah. What new medical horror awaits me this time? I've been praying about it a lot. That I will have an uncomplicated pregnancy and birth. That God will give me the strength to be okay with another loss or with whatever hurdles this pregnancy brings.

Also, everything in our state (Virginia) is still locked down. My thrive market deliveries are two weeks behind. We can't find some things in stores, and everyone is wearing masks. I'm wearing one too. Basically my life has been mildly impacted in a first world way, and I will not complain, because I know people out there are suffering a lot more! I will thank myself that I can afford thrive market deliveries and am able to stay home with a nice big yard to play in. I am thankful that our air conditioning works, we have toilet paper, and electricity to run our Nintendo switch games. God is good. I am praying for our country and for protection from this virus. I am praying a lot.

This week, and last week (week 5 and 6) we have started getting some take out food! Ice cream, and our favorite Thai restaurant both are doing to-go orders. It's awesome to support small businesses and also...eat food. 

We are bored of our yard and of walks around the neighborhood. Time for some social distancing park adventures.

How are you guys doing? Should I name my baby Corona?

Divisive

Divisive. That is how week four of quarantine felt.

I am lonely. Video calls with friends are just not the same. My children need the park.

This week Virginia decided to cycle through all four seasons in one day--a fact that I apparently had trouble handling. Friday we woke up to snow flurries that turned into fall that turned into spring by the afternoon while summer was still in full bloom outside. It was weird. Everyone felt cross putting sweaters and coats on, especially the toddler. I was suddenly aware of how much the weather does indeed sway my mood. The children didn't want to go outside because cold, while mother definitely did want them to go outside. We tried walking while everyone (except mommy) complained bitterly about how cold they were.

It's Saturday now and even colder outside than it was yesterday, so the kids are watching Blippi while I hide in my room with tea.

I have had mental health issues this week. My husband, who I love, has been working from home and unfortunately listening to me parent. This sparked a generous flood of parenting advice. It did not go well. 

Several times he happened to come downstairs and "caught" me trying to take a break while the kids tore up the house. THAT on top of the "parenting advice" (which mainly was "don't let the kids do this / pay more attention / why is everything a mess / why is crying happening) also did not go well. How does he think I get a break when he is not here? I can laugh about it now, but I have decided that 1) my husband does not give advice in a understanding way, and 2) He would do the same thing if he was locked up with two kids forEVER. But yeah, we all need grace and I certainly needed some from both God and my husband this week. 

I am definitely struggling with some depression. 

But God is still good.

Three of the hardest things this week:

1) Watching the political debates go down on Facebook. I need to get off and stay off. Help. I'm so over how angry everyone is. I'm angry at the angry people.

2) Our washing machine is still broke. Everything is dirty, and I am frustrated. 

3) Trying to keep everyone clean and fed and the house in some sort of order. Why is this so hard? I don't remember it being so hard "before" covid-19.

I have been watching Austin movies after the kids go to bed and I find it strange that I relate to the mothers in the story. In Mansfield park, I am the exhausted mom who married for love. In Pride and Prejudice, I am Mrs. Bennett with my overabundance of sharing. Can we laugh until we cry about it? I was shocked to see myself in characters I had all but ignored or chuckled over in the past.

I don't want to be Mrs. Bennett or Fanny's mother. I want to be Elizabeth and have a dashing young man read me poetry. 

Life is full of surprises. 

How are you all doing? Ready to blow some stimulus money on a Hawaiian vacation? This is a joke. We will be spending ours on bills.

How to Let Go of Control of your Children (and be okay)

I definitely struggle with micromanaging my children. I don't like it. I don't want to do it. But naturally, as their mother, I think I know what is best for them. And if I am not careful I can get stuck in the rut of constantly correcting their behavior (don't do that, don't touch that, stop fidgeting, put that back, that isn't how you do that, you made a mess again, why can't you listen, why can't you learn).

I feel like a record on repeat sometimes. I hate to hear myself, like a parrot, telling my child what to do and how to do it hour after hour, day after day. I hate to hear myself exasperated, again, that my four year old son can't remember rules that I can't even remember, or that I have just made up. So many "rules" are just things that come naturally to me. Things that might not come naturally to a four year old, inquisitive little boy. Things that I expect him to just "get" and "understand" when what I need to understand is that he is four and confused, and needs a guide, not a angry ultimatum.

I don't want to squash his creativity or put him in a box.

I may know that we don't pour muddy water all over ourselves at the park, but he may not. What may occur to me, might not occur to him and I shouldn't get angry at him for not adhering to my invisible rules. I guess I might be allowed to be angry, but I should not take it out on him.

He may want to color out of the lines. He may want to put stickers on his crayon box instead of in his sticker book. Or on the wall. Or on my cell phone (it still has one on it he put on "for mommy"). Yes, it's a pain to clean up, but is it really worth "laying into him" about? Does he need to hear a lecture about how he ruined my day with stickers?

I remember when Becky broke a glass. She was trying so hard to put it in the sink so mommy could wash it, but she didn't know it would shatter. I almost cried from how precious it was, how proud of herself she was. Her little face lit up as she hefted it over the side. "I put it up for mommy. I big". And it broke. I just couldn't be mad at her. She was so confused, it broke my heart! I think that is how I should see a lot of what my son does. He is trying to do what is right, but he just doesn't know what it is. Or he is trying to do what he wants, and needs to be helped to learn the world doesn't revolve around him. Just like I am still learning that it does not revolve around me and what I want for my kids, or how I "need" them to act.

So many times I get mad at my kids for not understanding what is clear to me, as an adult. I forget they live in a totally different world and that it's okay they don't know all the rules yet. They don't understand they shouldn't yell the word penis in Walmart, or ask people if they have one. (Yup this happened) (And it was okay).

My children are exploring this world and learning every day. I need to give them space to do this. I shouldn't, once again, expect little adults.

I also have been trying to let go of my children and give them to God. The above is part of this. I think I know what is best for them, what they should do and say and how they should act. But, I don't. Only God knows what is best for them, and what plans he has for them.

They are His, anyway.

I am terrified of losing my kids, of having something bad happen to them. But every day I lay down their lives before the Lord. Them, I, and this world... we are only here because he wishes us to draw breath. And we will draw breath until he decides to bring us home. I hope nothing ever happens to my kids, but I must trust God. He is enough, and will always be enough. I will have no other idols before Him, even if that idol be my own child.

Giving up control is hard. And scary. I like to be in control. I like to think I have it all together. But, don't worry. You are worse than you think you are--we are all mired in sin. I am sinful. I am fallen. I have only my savior to thank. My kids are always, have always been in Jesus' hand, and acknowledging that is part of laying down my life for Christ and taking up my cross to follow Him.

Do the good works. Follow your path that God has for you (not the path you want) and die daily to your Old Adam. Trust him with your children. He gave them to you for a reason. Trust him.

flying kites and changes

Today, the kids and I flew a kite outside in our side yard. I was a mix of emotions.

One, I am getting over our miscarriage we had in January. Mourning that little life. Closing a chapter on newborn dreams and tiny clothes. I'm in a good place now, but still get depressed occasionally. I thought this one would stay. I had morning sickness--I never had that with any of my other miscarriages. Today, I am sad that Becky won't get to meet her baby brother; she won't get to be a big sister. Reuben won't get the little brother he always wanted. Next time, if there is a next time, will be a different baby.

My emotions were swirling for a different reason, as well. I was thinking of my father. My biological father. I have only a handful of memories of him---phone conversations where he would just try to undermine my mother's authority, a few cards and letters, all written by his new wife who I guess was trying to send me things "from him" because either he asked or she knew he should be doing it. Everything in her handwriting, never his. I have memories of him as an adult, when he started acting weird because he chose drugs and...that is it. Nothing after my wedding. We don't talk.

But there was that one time---the one time we flew kites together. One day at a park that still exists next to the apartments we used to live in. I was around 5 or 6, I guess. And as I flew kites with Reuben, I wondered--is it a painful memory because I don't know how to feel about it, or because of the lack of other happy memories with him? That day, I was happy, there with the wind and the kites and the sky. It was fun. I remember my dad laughing and playing with me, I remember feeling loved and accepted and alive.

Now I was flying a kite with my own children. I hope they have more than just one or two happy memories with me.

A lot has been changing lately. In good, and hard ways. The loss of our baby. The milestone of two that Becky reaches soon. Things at home are becoming easier and I am enjoying being a mother again. Kids play together, they demand less of me and are stretching their wings. I am loving, loving homeschooling preschool, and we start our kindergarten program this April! I am growing as a person. I feel like as a mother I am an ever constant butterfly, always undergoing some type of transformational birth and death, sometimes simultaneously.

This is the season of birth in creative endeavors, a birth of new books to read and fun patterns to design and knit when I have time. The death of pushing myself to go to hot yoga, because I just can't anymore and it got to be too expensive. The birth of having more independent kids, of homeschooling and habit instruction. Of becoming my children's teacher as well as mother and friend. But the death of having my own close friends, because of the looming task that awaits me of raising R&R. It crowds out the space I used to have for mommy dates and coffee meet-ups and bible studies. I can still do a few of those things, but not in the same capacity this extrovert would like.

By the way, I think it is utter bull that you can't be your kid's friend. Friends know when to tell you when you err and how to lift you up when you are down. It's a friends job to point you to Christ. Thus I endeavor to be a good friend to my brood of snapdragons, my hatchlings, my Reuben and my Rebekah. I won't hold myself above them, but rather work with them to teach them and be taught by them.

Life is good.

Life is good.

Jesus holds Motherhood Together

Sometimes I feel like I am the only thing holding the world together. My world is small. About the size of my house. But within this tiny domain, I reign as one of two ruling monarchs (I'm the Queen). But I also moonlight as the scullery maid, so it's not all crowns and silk.

I do the dishes. I wash the floors. I nap the babies. I pick up, haul, schedule, list, change, and regulate in many different ways and sometimes on an hourly basis.

I make no money. I do make happy memories, fun messes and a lot of life discoveries.

On top of the tangible drudgery, I do a lot of emotional and mental work. I set the mood of the house. I support my husband, not only physically but emotionally as well. Daily I am teaching my small humans how to manage their own temperaments. And there is the delicate transaction that is responding to a tantrum in just the right way. I try to deescalate it by methods that not only teach my son how to better manage his emotions but to cope in a way that leaves the glass “half full” instead of “tipped over shattered on the floor” for the rest of the evening. If you have a toddler you will know of what I speak.

Today I was sitting exhausted in my recliner chair watching my non-napping one year old dump out a box of toys and feeling very out of touch with my world. The dishes were half done, Becky (the one year old) was wearing only one sock and my son (3.5) was whining for me to get up and retrieve a puzzle for him. All I wanted was a hot pot of tea and a nap and some quiet.

All of a sudden I remembered a book a friend had given to me when I was researching homeschooling. You see, I wasn't home-schooled and I was dealing with defeating thoughts that I couldn't do it. She gave me this book called “Teaching From Rest” that I still need to read (it's on my shelf, next to more Charlotte Mason books). But it was just the reminder I needed at this moment. Because yes, I do want to home-school from a place of rest and peace. But more than that—I want to parent from a place of rest and peace! I want the peace of God to just envelope my whole life and become my foundation so that it springs out of the wellspring of my heart. I need Parenting for Rest and Peace, the book. If such a book exists.

'For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. Do not be afraid, for I myself will help you,'declares the Lord, your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.” ~Isaiah 41:13-14 

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”…He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.  You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you…For he will command his angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways…“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him…” ~Psalm 91:1-16

I also need to stop living like I hold any part of this world together. Jesus is the only one who holds the world together. He is supposed to be my strength. And he is the glue that fastens everything. In him I rest and only by his strength and by his mercy do I accomplish a task. One of the reasons I get so run down and tired is that I try and rely on my own willpower. This is a lie. I am who I am only by the grace of God.

Jesus holds motherhood together. He created it for His Glory. Motherhood is not about what I want, or what I envision for my kids or my family now or in the future. It's for one thing and one thing only: the Glory of God. And I don't know what that looks like but I do know what it does not look like. It's not me whining. It's not me giving up. It's not me carrying the weight of lists and toiling alone. 

It is me, day after day working in abject surrender to Christ and his will. No matter what comes my way. 

So stay strong, sweet mom, strong in his word, strong in his presence and point those little ones to Christ.

“Do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear.  Life is more than food, and the body more than clothes.  Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!  Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?  Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?” ~ Luke 12:22-26

when you are frustrated

I told my husband yesterday that I felt I had no purpose anymore. My life seems to consist of watching small children and cooking, and I struggle with feeling satisfied on a daily basis. I have all these dreams and ambitions and many of them now seem hopeless when faced with the work of raising and caring for my offspring.

My husband always is willing to listen to me, a trait I love about him. He is unfailingly patient and thoughtful. I am not patient. I am like a freight train going from 0 to 60.

So he listened to me pour out my heart and my struggles and than he challenged me to really stop and think about what I was saying. To identify my goals and list what makes me feel satisfied. Doing this really helped me understand some basic concepts about myself and the way I work. I like completing things, the task of crossing something off my list, of moving on to the next task. I like seeing a finished product and holding it tangibly in my hands. I love knitting, sewing, reading and writing. I dream of knitting and crochet projects to design and could devote myself for life to creating patterns for people to follow. It makes me happy, it brings me joy and most of all I get a sense of fulfillment from doing those things.

Raising children is never "done" at least not for the foreseeable future. Children are unpredictable. They require unfailing patience, they don't listen, they take swathes of emotional and mental energy. At present, it is not a task that fulfills me. I am constantly frustrated, tired, worn thin and baffled by my children. I can parent for hours but then I need some space to recharge and small children don't understand the concept of space. At least not mine, not yet.

With my husbands help I continued deconstructing my thought patterns. What would I want my life to look like, when I looked back upon it in 60 years? Decades of making knitting and crochet patterns and YouTube videos? Or decades of dying to myself and putting my trust in God for this season of raising kids? What would fulfill me in the long run? The answer to this question required no thought. I hope to look back upon life in 60 years (I'll be 92 so this is unlikely, but I can dream) and see that I ran the race with endurance and sacrificed my selfish desires on the alter of God's Will. I want my children to know they are loved, more than any dreams or passions I have. I want them to spend each day knowing they are special and seeing God's work in my life and theirs. Yes, it would be nice if I had some time to knit, but that is not the purpose God has for me right now.

In parenting it is easy to be consumed by frustration over the fact that nothing is going my way. I am daily bogged down by the emotional and mental weight of caring for small kids, cooking, cleaning and managing a house, communicating with my husband and raising Reuben and Rebekah. It's a alpine climb, like Anne says. But it is so worth it. There is meaning in what I am doing, even if I don't feel the sense of fulfillment at this time. And what more perfect opportunity can be found for being perfected by God's fire? He is pruning me as I devote myself to his task. He is teaching me so many things, but most of all I am learning that life is not about me. Life is not leisure, life is hard work. Life is devoting oneself to God and to his plan, regardless of ones own dreams and desires.

And I know in the end I will have no regrets because God's will for me is perfect and he is without flaw.

Goals in Motherhood and How I Mess Up

Often after a hard week I feel like I am suffocating. Drowning in small children. Smothered with laundry and dishes and mommy mommy mommy whines.

It's at this time that God reminds me that I can't do it alone. I can't mother on my own strength. Oh, how I love this reminder. Sarcasm, like coffee, is a necessity to motherhood.

But, why is this a lesson I have to keep relearning? I surrender only to find myself stuck back right in the mire of frustration, drowning in my own woes and with only the bleak realities of my life to keep me comfort. 

This cycle is not fun. I am not enjoying it. I want to break the cycle, I pray to break it. Teach me to see my kids the way you do, God, I cry. Let me mother them as fallen human beings, not as an Overseer who only wants to control them. Let my words be gentle and my patience everlasting, and for goodness sake let me make some time for them and not get caught up in homemaking perfection.

And for awhile it works. One blessed day my heart is in the right place, and I soak in the inner joy and peace that comes from yielding to God's plan and will in my life. I feel on top of the world! During this time I calmly parent my kids with grace and mercy that can only come from God above. I think "how can I point my child to God" when dealing with strife, and I remember to open my mouth with humility and love when contention arises in my marriage.

Two hours later it's like I am a totally different person. It only takes one small thing--today it was Reuben throwing up after dinner. After my carefully constructed, 45-minutes-to-cook-dinner, he had the audacity to throw up all my hard work. All over the carpet.

I yelled at him. My exact words were: don't throw up there throw up in the trash can, what are you doing because of course that is what every three year old needs to be told while they are tossing their cookies helplessly on the floor. Well, in this case it was buckwheat cake, but you get the idea.

Poor kid. After he was done he turned to me and said in the saddest voice mommy I am so sorry I was sick. can you please wash my hands I threw up on them. His blue eyes were full of tears as he hovered over the trash can, gulping for breath.

Oh, my heart.

I lost it. I gathered him up and washed his hands and started the shower for him and apologized for my upset tone and demanding attitude. I held him and read books and chastised my inner self for trying, once again, to micro-manage my child and forgetting, even for a second, how precious and beautiful he is.

An hour after his tossing-buckwheat-cake episode, he was back trying to climb and jump off everything and tearing around the house and I was back to contemplating motherhood and all the parts I do wrong and thanking God for his mercy and grace, because like His child oh boy do I need it.

When I am mothering, I forget that I am not God to my children. God is God to them. I am not there to correct every little thing.

God made me a mother. He wants me to find joy in this role. He wants me to love and worship as I mother. So often I just want to get through the day and I forget that I am here, in this moment, with my kids and my goal is to worship God.

My goal is to worship God. Not the dishes. Not a clean floor. Not a carefully prepared meal or good behavior. Those things have their place, but they are not the epoch of my existance.

My goal is to worship God.

The problem with discipline

In my last blog post I talked about how having children taught me discipline and I explained some of the things I do to manage my household. I am now going to talk about the other side of the coin: how I rage against the need of discipline, and how my own selfish nature throws darts in the cogs of my well-ordered life.

Raising a family and being a mother is a lot of work. I love it 85 percent of the time but the other 15 percent leaves me curled up in my armchair throwing a pity party. I vacillate from anger over our tight finances, anxiety about our cluttered house, my lack of free time and the never ending laundry rotation. I want a break. I deserve a break, I tell myself. Because sometimes after working hard to feed, teach, clothe and love my children, I am emotionally and mentally worn out. And I have to feed, teach, clothe and love my children every day. Parenting is 24/hrs around the clock.

As a mother, I often get stuck in this self-defeating negative cycle. I am worn out, so I crab at my kids. My kids act up because I am crabby causing me to loose my temper and yell at them. Then after I apologize and calm down, I need a break. Trying to find a break takes all day only for me to be too worn out to cook supper, leaving me frustrated and angry. Husband comes home to a frazzled mess of a house with no food to greet him and a snappy, anxious wife who desperately wants him to hold a baby so she can escape. I will also mention that the above cycle makes me feel like a bad mom, causing guilt and anger to simmer in my soul. Why can't I manage everything like everyone else? Why is this such a struggle?

During this time I just want my husband to take both kids (no matter how tired he may be) while I go check out at a coffee shop and relax on the internet. Or knit. Or crochet. All my discipline goes right out the window and I throw what I like to call an “adult tantrum”. I want to be left alone. I want to do something for myself. My kids bother me and I am easily annoyed and angry over every small thing. Instead of thinking of all the things my husband does for us, I start obsessing over everything he does not do. I'm not a pretty person when I am stuck in that negative mindset, nor am I easy to be around.

After several rotations through the above cycle I finally (with the help of my counselor) began to recognize the lies I get caught up in. And while I still get stuck in my pity party mode, I now am working on breaking the cycle and escaping my negative thinking and attempting to generate more positive reactions to the things I can't control. My counselor is helping me identify the cognitive distortions I am allowing to control my life.

For one, I am participating in all or nothing thinking. I am seeing things as black and white (I'm a bad mom because I didn't make dinner/ yelled at my kids). I am allowing that tiny fact to color my perception of myself. I'm no longer a struggling sinner, saved by grace. With my black and white thinking I am a total failure for not making dinner. This is a huge overgeneralizaion. I am allowing this single negative event to cast me into the depths of a guilty pity-party. My mental filter is skewed as I obsess over a single detail and dwell on it exclusively, like one moment eclipses all others in a day.

Motherhood is not the sum of one moment. Yes, I yell at my kids sometimes when I get frustrated. Yes, sometimes I am too tired to make dinner. But I need to stop jumping to conclusions when things go different than I imagined! I should not allow the fact that I lost my temper to discolor my entire reality and destroy my entire day.

If I am honest with you and with myself, though: sometimes a small thing that goes wrong does destroy my entire day, or days.

Where is God when this happens? Right where he as always been. It is me who has moved away from my biblical foundations and forgotten his promises. It's me who is is trying to manage my own life without anchoring myself in the word and surrendering my purpose to his glory.

I am forgetting that everything comes to me by the loving hand of the father. God is with me. Many are the afflictions of the righteous (Psalm 34). Trials show us how to live by faith. And faith conquers kingdoms ( Hebrews 11:32). Don't forget, dear mother, that the Lord disciplines the ones he loves as a father disciplines as son (Hebrews 12:3).

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer (Romans 12:12). Don't let one moment destroy the future or one tragedy blot out all the light.

Practical Advice for Managing Motherhood

Being a mom to a baby/toddler is so, so hard. It feels like nonstop work with a few pockets of rest. Rest, for this mom (me) of 2 kids under 4, has to be carefully scheduled. And I need rest, so I have to make sure to schedule it or I will quite literally fall apart. On top of being a mother, I surmount other obstacles. Like my husband working late. And our food allergies—I have to do a lot of cooking. And, of course, on top of managing a household, I have to try and teach my 3.5 year old patience, kindness and the alphabet when I don't feel patient or kind myself. 

Through the years I have learned a lot about managing my time. Practical advice for managing motherhood—or you can call it tips for stressed out moms who need ideas. This blog post will be full of the tips and tricks parenting has taught me about, well, parenting. Motherhood is 24/7 baby, so roll up your sleeves and dig in. This season is full of joy if you just know where to look. And a little bit of discipline never hurt anyone.

That was the first thing motherhood taught me. Discipline. I have never been what you would call “disciplined” in my life. I used to quit things when they get too hard. In school, I gave minimal effort when I felt like it, or no effort when I didn't feel like it. I followed my whims and for the most part (before kids) was content with doing what I could, when I could. Or putting off what didn't appeal to me.

Motherhood, as I have said before on this blog—hit me like a freight train. It only took one day for me to become an anxious stressed out mess. When they placed that that precious 10 pound 6oz baby boy into my arms (that yes, I delivered vaginally, may we pray for my nether regions) it's like I went from a relaxed, happy wife to a irritable, cranky mother all at one moment. It didn't help that I had an emotionally high needs baby who didn't sleep and who had serious food allergies that I had to contend with, on top of managing motherhood. 

I've already talked about how that first year was the worst year of my life.

But the second year something changed. Well, someones. Me, and my husband and my son. We all adjusted. And it wasn't something (at least for me) that happened naturally. It took a lot of hard work as I gave up a lot of control, praying that I would trust in God's plan, and accept his grace. Somewhere along the way lazy me found discipline. And learning to be disciplined changed my life. Changed my motherhood. Changed me from a sourpuss into a planner, from a grouch into a willing servant, giving me the power and the strength to serve my family.

What happened is this. I saw that the dishes, laundry, floor, all needed to be cleaned. And if I put it off today, it only grew worse overnight. And the bigger the mess, the more I did not want to clean it and the more resentful my heart was. Not only did I have these chores—but I had a small demanding child to take care of too! But I also saw that my mood was lighter, happier when these chores were done. When the house is clean I feel less stressed. And thus, somewhere along the way I realized that 1) I needed to clean because no one else was going to clean and 2) if I did it when it needed to be done, it was less work and caused the least amount of stress.

Being a minimalist is somehow caught up in all my discipline. Because not only did I start to clean and schedule chores to manage my time the best, I started to declutter as much as I could so I had less to clean and organize. It's all one big circle.

Somewhere a long the way doing what I had to do became a romance, a machine of enjoyment, as I worshiped God as I worked. I don't know exactly how or when it happened, but it did. I think it might be a God thing. God working slowly on my heart to help me be disciplined and to love the motherhood role he placed me in.

So, discipline. And rest. I am disciplined enough to get the chores done that I know I need to every day, I am wise enough to minimize my tasks so that I don't feel overwhelmed or stressed. (Okay, I still get overwhelmed and stressed, but its a lot better than it used to be). And here is the thing: discipline begets rest. When I get my chores done, I can rest. I can take breaks between chores and I don't have to worry or feel stressed about “all the things I didn't do” because I know the plan and I've scheduled them out so they all get done.

It is a weight off my back for sure.

Now, when I say schedule—I don't mean like I have every hour of every day scheduled out or even written down. What I have is a loose handful of chores that I make sure get done every week so that our house runs smoothly. My goal isn't to micromanage myself. My goal is literally: can we can find what we want where it is supposed to be?

So every day I do 1-2 loads of laundry. We cloth diaper, and I wash diapers every other day, so the days I wash diapers I do 2 loads of laundry. Every other day I do 1. This way everything gets washed each week. Sometimes I do skip a day of laundry, and then I just do 3 the next day...you get the idea. We grocery shop on Saturdays, together as a family. I do the dishes either after breakfast or after dinner if I don't get to them after breakfast. Sometimes if I desire a clean kitchen for my anxiety, I wash dishes in the morning and the evening. I love to wake up to a clean kitchen!

I sweep the floor after every meal because if I don't, Becky will crawl through the crumbs and make a bigger mess.

Other chores, I do weekly or bi-weekly. For example, I clean the bathrooms once a week. I wish I could do it twice a week, but I just have not been able too. I vacuum every three days, I change the sheets bi-weekly.

One of the biggest pet peeves of mine is trash that is not in the trash can. Recipes, drive-through coffee cups, disposable bags, wrappers for things we bought...I always make sure to put trash directly in the trash. I don't let it pile up into a mess, and I don't let the kids play with it. This drastically reduces the clutter in my home!

Another thing I do is I am always putting everything back where it goes all the time. Every time I walk to the bathroom I pick up things I see out of place and put them back. Like the VHS tapes under the TV. Becky loves to pull them out, and I let her because it distracts her and is harmless. But then I go back and fix them 2-3 times a day so it doesn't get totally out of control. This concept may seem like a lot, but cleaning with this method spreads the work throughout the day, and keeps me from becoming overwhelmed by a huge mess as evening looms.

I have a disciplined daily routine too. I wanted to make sure I took all my supplements, got to brush my teeth (before Becky fell asleep on me) and exercised twice a day for my blood sugar (I have borderline type two diabetes, usually called insulin resistance). I get all these things done. It was hard when Becky was really little, but once she hit six/seven months meeting my personal daily goals became easier. Now that she is one, I try to make sure I brush my hair every day, but that sometimes does not happen. Life with kids is what it is. I know when goals are fundamental and when they are superfluous.

If you want to check out my other posts in the practical advice for managing motherhood series, you can below. #1 is Discipline, #2 is Letting Go of Control, #3 is Build a Space of Calm and Peace, #4 Ask For Help and #5 is Love. All #1-5 are integral to managing my day and enable me to (mostly) live a life free from stress and anxiety. Motherhood is not an easy walk in the woods by any means, and I am learning to gird my loins. Onward and upwards, weary travelers.

Mother-Servant

Several times this week I have been at the absolute end of my rope. I have thought to myself I can't do this anymore. I can't get up and make breakfast when I feel so wretched. I can't listen to another whine when I am worn out to the absolute threads. I can't think another thought or plan another plan when the shroud of misery is suffocating me. Life can be so disparaging at times.

My chair is my refuge. In it I curl up, listing all the reasons that I can't go on. I'm alone. Brian is working late, again. My mother is busy working and barely able to visit me. When she does, I know she is unhappy and worried. My sister is a single mother of four, she has no time to help. My friends are all exhausted mothers like myself. I am alone.

I don't know what I need. That thought further annoys me. Not only am I grasping at proverbial threads and running on fumes, but I don't know what I need. I don't know what kind of rope could pull me out of this pit. I don't know what to ask for even if I knew who to ask. I'm lost, adrift in a churning sea whose dark waters will soon engulf me.

Motherhood is so hard. Marriage is hard. Life is hard. 

I'm glad I have God with me. If I didn't have Him I know I would give up. My strength runs out, His endures. My nature is full of pompous self worth, but He is truth incarnate.

Whenever I am at the end of my rope I always read Luke 17:7-10. Nothing puts me in my place more than those few short red sentences.

“Will any one of you who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep say to him when he has come in from the field, 'Come at once and recline at table'? Will he not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, and dress properly, and serve me while I eat and drink, and afterwards you will eat and drink'? Does he thank the servant because he did what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say 'We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.'”

Three things stick out to me. First, “serve me”. My goal on this earth is to serve God. Through tantrums and marital fights. Through sleepless nights. Though housework and drugery.

Through cancer or blindness come my way, still my ever present thought should be...to serve God. Even through the loss of a child, or the loss of a loved one. Serve. God. Not complain. Not give up. Get up and do the purpose I was created for. Serve.

Second thing that sticks out to me is my own inflated self worth and how important my own comfort is. I am an unworthy servant. It's so true. Nothing I did secured me a place in heaven. I can do no good without Christ. Jesus shed his blood and God wrote my name in the book of life. Those things cause me to go to heaven. If my own life were of any weight it would only condemn me to hell. Jesus paid the price for my sin and only by that act can I be redeemed. Yet how quickly I sneer when my comfort is jeopardized. I must don the mantle of servant and contemplate my own unworthiness. Only then can I truly know what it is to be the bride of Christ.

The last thing that grabs at my heart are the last two words. “Our duty.” What is my duty? I like to remind myself of my duty when I get lost. Pointing myself in the right direction helps clear the mist and re-orientate my wandering compass. My duty is to Christ and Christ alone. My job here on earth is to glorify him. And that means wiping poopy bottoms, making meals, disciplining my children and loving my husband. It also might mean dying of cancer or dying in a car wreck. It may mean loosing my sight or the use of my arms. But it does not ever mean giving up my joy or forsaking my community with Christ. I am here to do his duty, but my flesh is weak. God knows what is best for my life and dishes out his will to us. But I so often, in my humanness, think I know better than God. And that is where the problem begins. That is the very foundation to my frustration: I, the servant, at times, try to usurp my master's will. And there is no peace, no joy, no fulfillment in a life run by own measures.

Tomorrow I will wake up, and upon my lips will not be the curse of drudgery or a sigh of discontent. But the beat behind my steps and the melody of my head will burst forth only one mantra: “Serve God. Do my duty. Be a servant.”

Discipline for toddlers

When I first started parenting I was baffled by discipline. I remember acutely the loss of control and the inflammatory anger I felt at my son's tantrums. His whining and disobedience threw me into total confusion. I simply had no idea how to redirect him and facilitate order and correct his wrong behavior.

Now I am a seasoned mother of two. I still am learning, of course, and hardly an expect. But time and prayer have turned my feelings of helplessness into a semblance of order. Over the years God has taught my willful, sinful heart a lot about raising my own willful, sin-filled children.

This is a blog post about how I discipline. 

Before setting down my points, I want to make the reader aware that discipline (to me at least) is situational. My son may jump on the couch one day and receive one type of punishment, but jumping on the couch the next day may warrant a completely different type of correction. That is because discipline is mainly about the heart. It is not about behavior. Understanding this is of utmost importance because it sets the foundation on how I approach my son with loving correction. So, before I discipline I must attempt to know the intent behind the actions. Only then can I guide my child.

I employ five types of discipline in my parenting. I will call them the five Rs: Redirection, Removal, Recitation, Rest and Redemption. I use one or more of the five Rs each time I discipline and disciple my children. For the rest of this post I will seek to explain each R and give an example of using it in daily life.

You have probably heard of redirection. Many parents confuse redirection with distraction. I do not like distraction as a principle of discipline. Distraction is all very well when your child is 8 months old and wants something they can't have, but a strong-willed three year old can not be distracted from the object of their focus. They will just scream louder. Even if you have the most complicit sanguine toddler on the planet, I still think they ought not be distracted. Their emotions and the intent behind them matter and need to be addressed. Children need to learn how to grapple with wanting something they can't have, and not just by moving their focus to the next thing.

Thus instead of distracting Reuben with a flashy new toy or diverting his attention to a new game or activity, I redirect my son emotionally. Emotions are the reason behind his behavior, bubbling up from the fount of his heart. I can change the behavior all I want with distraction, but only redirection can approach the wrong lodged in his sinful heart. Redirection seeks to help him understand the emotion he is having and channel it appropriately.

Now don't read more into what I say than what I have said. I don't belittle his emotions. I don't ignore them. I don't make fun of him. I simply redirect his anger or his confusion or frustration in a multitude of ways. One way I might do this is by fixing the source of his frustration.

Example: Reuben (3.5) and Rebekah (10m) are playing on the floor in the living room. Rebekah suddenly wants to explore the duplo blocks Reuben is playing with, causing Reuben to start screaming hysterically. “She's breaking it! She's touching it! No Becky, no no no!!” Now, instead of distracting Becky with a new toy, or moving Reuben's attention to another toy, (which would fix the screaming) I instead redirect his emotions.

“Remember the rules, Reuben. If Becky is touching a toy you are playing with, you can go to your room and close the door or take it to the kitchen table. Becky is little and does not understand she can't touch what you are playing with.”

This acknowledges his feelings of frustration over Becky and gives him a safe place to play without her. It says “you are frustrated, lets do something about your frustration”.

Another example is needed to help illustrate. Reuben and Rebekah are once again playing on the floor, but this time Reuben wants whatever toy Becky has.

“It's mine! I need it. I want it!”

Now again I could distract Reuben and/or Rebekah with a new toy, but that method would do nothing to solve the heart problem behind Reuben's tantrum. While it may temporarily solve the issue, age and sin will only exasperate it.

“Reuben, you know you can't snatch what your sister is playing with. That isn't fair or nice. You don't like it when she snatches toys from you! You can find something else to play with or wait until she is done.”

When I say this he either (1) cries louder, (2) snatches the toy, or does what I suggest and finds something else to play with. If he does 1 or 2, I move on to removal and rest, usually with recitation added in there to beggar my point.

Redirection funnels his emotions into their proper place and supplies him with practical steps to to deal with the problem himself by reminding him of boundaries or rules. These boundaries and rules either are ones I have set in place (play at the table or your room) or God-ordained (it's wrong to covet your sister's toys). My job isn't to placate him or make him stop crying—it is to teach him to control himself and submit to God.

The second tool in my arsenal that I use when disciplining my son is removal. A lot of people will remove their kids from the situation, placing the kid in time out or sending him out of the room to his or her own bedroom. I don't do this, simply because it does not work. Every kid is different, and secluding your child to his/her room might work for you, but not for us. I have found removal best works when I remove the object that is causing my son stress. This works for my 10 month old daughter as well!

Removing is plain to explain. I give my son one warning. “I see you swinging your pocket watch over your head. We can't do that near Rebekah because you tend to let go and it flies across the room and might hit her. You need to go swing your pocket watch in your room (redirect).”

//Reuben continues to swing his pocket watch in the living room near his sister.

“I see you are not obeying. Sadly, your pocket watch needs to go into time out for 10/20 minutes (or however long) because you are not listening to your mother and obeying the rules. You are putting your sister in danger and I can't allow that. ”

//I take the watch and place it up high where he can see it.

Often he understands, but sometimes he will start crying, screaming, and demanding the toy that I have jailed. At this point I move on to Recitation or Rest. Recitation means making him think about what he has done that was wrong, and reciting to me in his own words what that is. It also involves apologizing to the person or persons he has wronged. I will make him sit down on the couch or the floor next to me (rest) or recline in my arms. I will rock him and talk to him as he calms down and then I will ask him to explain what he did and tell me why he got into trouble. If he does not know, I will repeat it until he understands and can say it back to me, and then I will make him apologize to his sister, to me, and even to God.

With the apology he has to say what he did wrong. He can't just say “I'm sorry,” he must say “I am sorry I threw the ball at your face, mommy. That was wrong and I hurt you.” I think it's very important that he both apologize and frankly state his sin and acknowledge the fault.

I could give a lot of examples, but this post is long enough already and I still have one more point to make!

Redemption is my last R. Redemption is the means behind discipline. The redemptive blood of Christ covers his sheep. Doing the will of God and giving him glory is the reason for our existence. Pointing my children to Christ and reminding them of God is the goal of parenting. Therefore I try to make God the foundation of my discipline. Everything rests on the redemptive, saving blood of Jesus and thus every moment I disciple my children should point to God. It's not about my rules. It's not about changing or modifying their behavior. Discipline is about shaping and pulling little hearts to God and teaching and modeling God's ways.

I teach my kids about God by reading my own bible in their presence, discussing God, listening to sermons with them, singing hymns, praying with them, admitting my own need for Christ and in many, many other ways. Thus as I discipline, I hope my children come to revere and love God and need him as much as I do.

How I Came to Love Motherhood

“Mommy” My three year old said, as I was washing the dishes, “Can you clean my toes?”

“Sure.” I replied. I picked up a wet towel and turned around, not imagining in the slightest the sight that would great my eyes.

Pumpkin pie. Everywhere.

Trying to control my voice I asked, “What did you do?!”

My son grinned at me. “I stuck my toes in my pie! Pie everywhere! Pie explosion!” Reuben made to fling his feet back on the table. “Mommy, can I paint with pie?”

“Um. No...” I said as I set to work cleaning the table, the floor, the boy. As I wiped pumpkin pie off my sons toes I belatedly noticed his sister under the table. Crawling around eating pumpkin pie crumbs. From the floor.

Great. 10 month old already eating sugary pie. Oh, well.

I cleaned my son and had a conversation I'd never fathomed. We don't put our toes in pumpkin pie. Or food. We eat food. With our hands. Or that fork I gave you. Then I cleaned the floor, changed Reuben's clothes. Changed Rebekah, who had pie on her as well from crawling in it.

Just another day of motherhood.

But there are worse things than pumpkin pie explosions that muddle up motherhood. Little boys who try to change their own poopy diapers. Heaters that break, husbands that come home late. Sickness that spreads through the whole family, while an exhausted mom takes care of runny noses when she just wants to sleep. Meals to make, laundry to wash, and a never-ending list of emotions and mental stresses to deal with.

Tragedy. Loneliness. Even death. We mothers have wounds so great hidden in our hearts it is sometimes amazing that we function. Betrayal after betrayal comes our way from many different sources and yet still we must go on, mending clothes and wiping bottoms. A mother's job never ends.

So what, do we throw in the towel? Is it all for naught? No, dear mother. Even in the midst of the storm God is there, walking with us, holding us and holding our children.

So, I'll be honest. Becoming a mother broke me. My son didn't sleep. He cried all the time. My life was a mess. I was a mess. An alone, miserable mess.

But that changed. I have bad days now, but I no longer live in that place of anger anymore. And now I have two! Two children that have violently (yet beautifully) sprung from my womb in what can surely only be an act of God. And we are thinking of more. Will there be three? Egad. Someone lock me up, before we start imagining a forth!

What changed is my heart. That first year of motherhood I tried to do it all on my own. I was angry a lot. Angry at my baby for not sleeping. Angry at my husband for not helping, for not seeing that I desperately needed assistance. Angry at my body for holding onto my pregnancy pudginess. Angry, angry, angry.

I felt like I had no time for myself, no time for my friends. My existence had shrunk to “smelly milk supplier” and I resented the title change that had come without fair warning.

I would like to describe the change. Because I am no longer angry. I am no longer resentful.

I have learned that Motherhood is a beautiful thing, not a burden. Yes it has its sorrows. Yes it is exhausting and irritating at times. But God gave me two kids to mother. He didn't give me two babies to stifle me creatively or destroy the intimacy of my marriage. He didn't give me two wonderful lives because he wanted to ruin my life and ensure I stayed fat forever. He gave me two babies because it was his will that I become a mother and glorify him by raising those he saw fit to bestow. Somehow, impossibly—I am a mother for His Glory.

For some reason that realization set me free. I am doing Gods will as I mother and raise my babies. I am fulfilling the great plan of God as I spoon prunes into my daughter's mouth. My role in Christ is being realized as I rock my 10 month old Rebekah at 1 am, my eyelids drooping and my limbs limp with exhaustion.

God made me a mother. It isn't a derogatory role. It isn't an inconvenience or an annoyance. It is the very will of God!

With that in mind I began to pour myself out to God daily, seeking his guidance and his will in my role of mother. My anger is gone. Instead, awe resides in its place. I take up my bible as my guidebook, making sure to read it daily. I surround myself with godly women who mentor me. And little by little the joy unfathomable has opened to me, until I am drenched in the very essence of God. Not my will, but His. Not my dreams, not my aspirations. All cast before Him.

It is scary, but nothing has ever felt more right.

This is how I have learned to love being a mother. Well, most of the time. When my son isn't sticking his toes in his dessert.

Don't get me wrong, I am still a sinner saved by grace. I still have a long way to go. But I am seeing myself more through the eyes of God instead of the eyes of the world or the eyes of another. God's will, God's purpose will be my vision—not greed, not some idea of raising well-behaved children, not any ideals of a perfect body, a perfect home. I'll keep my eyes above and take up my cross and follow Him.

Disappointments

This morning I wanted to take a shower. A hot shower. Alone. Blissfully alone, for 10 or so minutes. Just me and the water and the warmth.

Alas, it was not to be. The moment I climbed in the three-year-old suddenly realized I was gone. I'd expect Becky to whine for me, but Reuben? Really?

He made his way into the bathroom. “Mommy. I want Mommy.” He said, and demanded to get into the shower with me. I told him I'd be right out and to please go wait downstairs with daddy. I tried to tell him daddy needed a hug, daddy needed help making his breakfast, Becky missed him, his toys needed him, mommy wanted to be alone, please just wait a few minutes...

He started to whine and after a few seconds his whine turned into a full blown crying tantrum for mommy.

My relaxing shower was not only accosted by a toddler—it was a sobbing, wretched toddler who demanded he needed mommy that interrupted my hair washing and toe cleaning.

I finally got him to go downstairs where he was apparently so upset to be without mommy for two more minutes he threw up. When I dressed 3 minutes later, Becky was crying in the play house where she had been put to keep away from Reuben's mess, and Reuben was still sobbing for me.

Needless to say, I started the day heavy with disappointment. I tried to do what I knew was right. I scooped up Becky, attached her to my boob and let Reuben sit next to me and tried to calm him by reading books. Eventually he was calm, Becky was calm, Husband had cleaned Reuben's breakfast off the floor and left for work, but I was still grumpy.

I want to be alone for just a minute. I am tired of everyone needing me. This is exhausting.

All true statements. All valid feelings. But I didn't want our emotionally charged morning to ruin the rest of my day.

I did yoga.

Becky cried halfway; so I was jangling toys in her face while forward-folding and singing jingles to her from downward dog. She made it through my 20 minutes of morning exercise, and I made it too. Reuben, I might add, was right next to me either trying to play with his sister or imitate my poses. Sometime I should film him during my yoga, but honestly I just want to do yoga and not think about anything else, so I doubt that will ever happen. It would be funny, tho.

Afterwards I felt a semblance of peace. God loves me in spite of my whining ways and cranky heart, so I can love my toddler through his tantrums. I'm learning more and more that while I can't control my kids or have lonely-shower expectations or plan (more or less) how the day will go in the emotional sense, I can control myself. I don't have to yell at him. I don't have to let moody children control my day. My duty as parent lies in helping my children navigate their own emotions—and that starts first with my example. How often I fail at this only they will know, but I will say I fail often. It is a fault I am sure many parents contend with in themselves.

To all of you parents wrestling with the daily tasks of raising young humans, I salute you. It is no easy feat, especially when you aren't even sleeping through the night.