Children of the Wind and Sky

Children of the wind and sky,
Dancing across the fields,
Hair blowing in the breeze,
Swept back from shining eyes
And dazzling smiles.

Children of the water and waves,
Laughter bubbling, brimming over,
Flinging recklessly into my arms,
Giggling, wriggling, fleeing,
Returning with arms open wide.

Children of the sea and sky,
Wild, chaotic beauty
Uncontainable within my arms;
Infectious delight of life itself
Frees my heart to soar with theirs.

Invisible

As a young mother I confess that I'm
Finding that it's a very lonely time
I always kept saying that I would be fine
But actually I feel
Invisible.

There are lots of great people I see day by day
Who live in our home, though they're sometimes away
There are chances to chat or stay up playing games
So why do I feel
Invisible?

I still have friends, I know that I do
But they're busy, and many live far away too
And my chances to get out of the house are so few
So I just feel
Invisible.

I keep going online as the internet gave
Social media "likes" for the attention I crave
But the high is illusive and soon fades away
In the end I feel
Invisible.

And the worst of it is that I don't understand
Why each passing smile, complement, helping hand
Are just swallowed up in an instant and
Once again I feel
Invisible.

Mommy Moments: One of Those Days

Person [texts me]: How is your day going?

Me [thinks]: Well, I'm hiding in my room eating a handful of chocolate chips, so take a guess.

Sacrament

Cheerio off the nursery floor.
Holy sacrament.
Placed into cupped hands—
Take.
Eat.
His body given for you.

And the wine now turned to water
Poured out
From the sippy cup that leaks.
Drink it, mommy.

A sacred moment—
Enshrined in the holy of holies
Behind plexiglas windows.
Has anyone been missed?

Cheerio off the nursery floor.
Holy sacrament.

Mindfulness

Breathe.
A deep breath.
Feel the air moving
In and out.
Your heart is beating.
You are alive.

Your feet are touching the ground.
Notice that.
Feel the pressure on your feet,
The hardness of the ground.
Your hands are cold.
They ache a little when you move them.
The blanket is soft.
Feel it.
There is another blanket piled on the ground—
The light from the window creates highlights and shadows on it
As if it should be drawn for an art class.
Study it with care.
Appreciate the highlights and the shadows.
There are toys scattered across the floor too.
Notice the cow figurine
Balanced on top of the police car.
Think about the creativity of a three-year-old
Who wanted to give his toy a ride.
There is a single sock under the chair.
It was dropped there after coming home from the park.
Think about little feet
That love to run and climb
And jump in puddles.
Listen to the noises of the house.
Hear the hum of the refrigerator coming from the kitchen,
The toddler chattering to himself in his bedroom,
The rumble of the car passing on the street.
It is raining.
Watch the drip drip drip
Of water falling from the power lines.
Hear the buzz of the oven timer,
The child calling for you,
The footsteps running down the hall.
There is a half-eaten cookie forgotten on the piano bench.
Notice its texture,
Its colour.
Observe the overflowing basket of laundry,
The dust on the piano,
The crumbs littering the floor.
Feel the stress that rises in response to the needs of the day,
The worries that never really go away.
Open your hands and accept the grace present in this moment.

Breathe.
A deep breath.
Feel the air moving
In and out.
Your heart is beating.
You are alive.

Commission

She wakes early in the morning, catching those few, small moments before the chaos of the day begins.

Her Bible open on her lap, she tries to slow her mind, already racing with the tasks of the day. There is laundry to be done, meals to be made, the endless cleaning of mess after mess. There are broken toys to be fixed, torn clothes to be mended, phone calls to be made, Christmas decorations that still haven't been put away. She hopes she can find time to get outside, to practice her music, to do some writing.

Her mind wanders to her many friends that are struggling. The ones with depression. The ones with anxiety. The ones who have experienced things that no one should have to go through. She thinks about her husband who is feeling unwell and weighed down by stress. She thinks about her children who will soon be waking, filling the house with their endless exuberance, requiring so much love and attention.

She lifts her eyes, whispering to one unseen, "There is so much. I can't do everything I want to do and be everything they need me to be. I need your help. Show me what you would have me do today."

The reply presses deep into her heart:

"Love them."

The Fire

I thought myself so selfless:
I cared about everyone. I was always willing to listen,
And never held myself back from those that I could help.
But now there is no break, no words of thanks.
Selflessness is both expected and demanded by the little ones I ceaselessly care for.
I realize now just how much I kept for myself,
How much of my giving was really to benefit myself.
I did not know how selfish I was.

I thought myself so patient:
I was imperturbable. No matter what happened,
I responded with grace and fortitude.
But now completing the simplest tasks takes ten times longer than it should.
Little feet stop to smell the roses, even when there are no roses.
I realize now that I was only patient when it was convenient for me,
That hurry is branded on my heart.
I did not know how impatient I was.

I thought myself so humble:
I was content to do my best, even in unseen ways.
I did not need the praise my actions and accomplishments so often received.
But now most of what I do goes unnoticed. My days are filled with the unremarkable,
And the reward of success is merely doing it again the next day.
I realize now how much I find my value in what I do,
That I desperately need approval.
I did not know how proud I was.

Tell me, what purpose has this furnace?
Some twisted penance a thousand times over for every time I considered myself such a good person?
Can I return to my old, comfortable ignorance of my own condition?

Or, perhaps, by God's grace, could this lump of coal one day become a diamond?

Complaining Again?

I've realized that I complain a lot.

Well, more accurately, I had it pointed out to me.

The first time it was pointed out was sometime in the past by my wonderful husband—or possibly fiancé or boyfriend at the time, I honestly don't remember when it was. All I remember is that I was quite shocked. What did he mean, I complain a lot? That wasn't true... was it? But as I started to watch for it, I realized that he was right. I did complain a lot. So I tried to change. I thought I did a pretty good job.

And then, recently, I was again told that I complain a lot. Again, it caught me off guard, but I had to admit that it was true. I really don't want to be a negative, complaining kind of person, so I figured I should take a step back and try to figure out what is going on.

I thought I'd share what I found.

I can trace a lot of my complaining back to a very simple scenario: someone asks me, "How was your day?"

I'm a stay at home mom of a 15-month-old and an almost-3-year-old. Want to know how my day was? I had to stop the children from standing on the kitchen table at least 15 times today, and Kenneth dumped an entire pitcher of water on the floor, and Steven had a conniption fit because I wouldn't let him unroll the toilet paper all over the bathroom, and they both refused to nap, and at least three toys were broken, and I'm really tired, and the house is a disaster, and I still haven't started making dinner yet. Thanks for asking, how was your day?

And here is where I run into difficulty: what is "being honest", and what is "complaining"? Because if you ask me how I'm doing, I'd rather not just say "good". Especially if I'm not doing "good". So then what do I say?

I don't think it's wrong to talk about our struggles or the challenges that we are facing, but I had to ask myself why it is that I am drawn to talk about all of the negative things first. Because the reality is, there are also good things that happen in my day. Maybe Kenneth learned a new word, or Steven cleaned up a mess without being asked, or I got a text from a friend I haven't seen in a while. Why do I pass those things over in favour of talking about the stressful, challenging parts of my day?

I think one reason is that the challenging things are louder. They demand my attention. Steven might sit and read books nicely for half an hour, but a five minute tantrum will remain in my memory for much longer. Because there are so many challenging things in my day, I need to fight to notice and remember the positive things, and celebrate them.

I also think I'm drawn to talk about the stressful things because I want affirmation. I want people to know how rough my day was, because then they will realize how amazing I am for making it through relatively unscathed. They may even encourage me, and tell me that I'm a good mom and that I'm doing such a great job. If I paint a rosy picture of my day, I won't get that affirmation. At least, that's what it feels like.

It's not wrong to want affirmation and encouragement, but I don't think I should be using negativity as a desperate bid to get affirmation out of people. There has got to be healthier ways! Seeing my tendency to do this makes me realize that I need to build other ways of receiving encouragement into my life, because then I might not feel as driven to complain to get attention. I am also challenged, because I know that the first one I should be seeking affirmation from is God. It is his approval that is the most important. I may know that, but so often my actions show that I have different priorities.

So when someone asks me how I am doing or how my day was, I am trying to stop and give careful thought to my answer. I want to be honest, but be honest about the good as well as the bad. Maybe it was a really hard day, but I can also talk about the blessings that were in it. I want to consider why I choose to respond to people the way that I do. Is it just to get attention and affirmation? Or is it to build up the people around me, and encourage them too?

Mommy Moments: Pep Talk

"Come on! You gave birth to children, you can figure out how to replace an inner tube."

- Me to myself while struggling to fix the stroller's flat tire.

Disruptive Children

"Your kids are being very disruptive."

I don't think any parent likes hearing those words, but as the young woman returned haughtily to her seat, I was left reeling. How was I supposed to respond to that? It's not like I didn't know they were being disruptive. That is exactly why we sit up in the balcony at church—so that the boys can move and talk without making too much of a disturbance. This particular Sunday they were especially antsy. All that would stop them from trying to unplug the Christmas lights was running lengths back and forth on the landing at the top of the stairs. I was acutely aware of how noisy they were being, and I was keeping them as quiet as I could.

When that young woman came storming over to me like that, part of me wanted to respond very sarcastically: Thank you, Captain Obvious, I was not aware that my toddler is currently having a meltdown over not being allowed to play with electricity. Thanks for letting me know. But my annoyance was completely overshadowed by my embarrassment and shame. If one person is upset enough to talk to me like that, how many more people are resenting the presence of my rambunctious little family? I felt self-conscious, judged, and unwanted. A social leper. Feverishly, I redoubled my efforts to contain the boys. After Jesse took them to Children's Church, I sat alone, with tears in my eyes. I didn't know how to process what had just happened. I'm still trying to process it.

As the mother of two energetic little boys, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. It probably won't be the last time either. But as a recovering people-pleaser who is constantly aware of the emotions of others, it's really hard to know that other people are being bothered by my children. I don't want to be disruptive, I really don't. But I also want my children to be able to live without constantly being shushed and told to sit down. I want them to grow up knowing that they are valued members of the community, just the way they are—not second class citizens until they've had the enthusiasm of youth choked out of them. I also want to be able to continue to live my life, with my kids in it. I want to be able to sit with them in church, and go to events with them, and include them in things. So I guess that means there will be people who find my children disruptive. But I still feel pretty awful about it. I don't like bothering people.

As for the rest of my story, thankfully there were a couple of things that helped me get though the rest of the morning at church. It was a communion service, and one of the pieces that the pianist played during communion was from Handel's Messiah. That made me think of my favourite Aria from the Messiah, "He shall feed his flock":

"He shall feed his flock like a shepherd
And he shall gather the lambs with his arm
And carry them in his bosom
And gently lead those that are with young."

The memory of those words made me want to cry: and gently lead those that are with young. Oh, how us mothers of the young need that gentle hand! Stretched to our limit day after day to care for and raise these little ones who take every drop of love and attention and patience that we can give. By our own standards and the world's we so often fall short. But no matter how many voices of judgment and criticism there may be, our Saviour is gentle with us. And his is the voice that really matters.

After the service I was also able to talk with a friend who had seen the whole exchange. His indignation on my behalf helped me feel a lot better too.

Mommy Moments: Success

I think that I can confidently say that I have succeeded as a parent. I have a child who, when it is windy out, throws their arms in the air and triumphantly calls out, "windy!" while spinning in a circle.

I'm so proud.

Mother

Gentle arms embrace
Reassuring presence
Banishes nightmares back into
The dream world, untouchable
Haven of safety
This lap, these arms
Bathed in warm light pushing
Back the darkness and fear
The old couch
Worn, but oh so
Comfortable, that is how
I remember it,
Legs curled up inside
Flannel nightie
A soft lullaby
Sends me back
To sleep.

Mine the arms now
Grown larger to embrace
These smaller ones
My lips now give
Healing kisses
And sing lullabies.
I hold my sleeping child
Soft breathing in
My ear, my heart
Overflowing
Still cold fear wraps
Its cord around
My heart, I know
My lips are not
Magic, my presence alone
Cannot banish all pain
The world is so much
Bigger, and scarier
Than I thought.
And so I crawl
Into the lap
That is bigger than mine
Held by arms that
Truly banish fear and pain
Never letting go
My fear is stilled
I sleep.

Mommy Moments: Fake It Till You Make It

Toddler: *cutting shapes out of play dough, and bringing them to me to identify*

Toddler: *brings a particularly mangled mystery shape*

Toddler: What's that??

Me: ...

Me: ...

Me: It's a platypus.

Toddler: That's a platypoo! Good job Mommy!

We Teach Them So Young

We teach them so young
To be happy
Smiles and giggles
Rewarded with love and attention
Declared cute and precious
Tickles and cuddles
Laughter
Not tears
We don't want those
Don't want to see them sad
Because we love them
Find out what's wrong
Try to fix it
Offer comfort
But when that's not enough
To restore happiness
We lose our patience
Get upset
Tell them to stop crying
Tell them to be happy
Forget to teach them
That sometimes there are tears
That must be cried
Until they are all gone
That there is pain
That can't be fixed 
By a bandaid
Or even a mother's kiss
That sadness is not wrong
And tears are not a sin
Or a flaw
To be apologized for
We teach them so young
Not to feel

Bedtime Battles: Update 3

It's been a while since I gave an update on the toddler bedtime situation, so I figured it is about time, because believe me, the challenge isn't over!

We kept to our routine for a while, but then, I honestly don't know how it happens, once again we found ourselves with Steven's bedtime routine in shambles. (I blame the second law of thermodynamics.) It got to a point where it was taking hours to get him to fall asleep, and once again we knew that we had to choose something and stick to it if we ever wanted things to get better.

We decided to change things a little bit from what we tried before. This time we keep his door open and one of us sits on a chair by the open door where we can watch him. When he tries to climb out we can intercept him sooner, and being able to see us seemed to encourage him to stay in bed.

We've been trying this for a couple weeks now. At first it worked really well. Unfortunately the novelty wore off after a while and once again he started trying to climb out of bed every five seconds or so. At least, that's what he does for me. He behaves a bit better for Daddy. But at least it generally doesn't take much more than an hour for him to fall asleep. So overall we consider it a success.

I have also started watching at the door for his nap time too, and it works about as well as it does for bedtime.

It's still not a perfect method by any means. Sometimes Steven refuses to sleep for over three hours, and sometimes I get very upset when he keeps trying to get out of bed. If I'm home alone with the kids and Kenneth needs attention at the same time it gets a little challenging. Usually I will plop Kenneth in his crib with a bunch of toys and hope he stays entertained long enough that he won't start crying.

One day bedtimes won't feel like an endless struggle... right?

Mother's Day

When I think about Mother's Day I think about lilacs. Here in the "pacific northwest" the lilacs are almost always blooming on Mother's Day. Lilacs were my grandma's favourite flower. Her birthday and anniversary were always on or near Mother's Day, so I associate Mother's Day with celebrating those occasions too. I've been thinking about her a lot lately. This year my parents were out visiting, so I was able to host a nice family dinner. Then my parents stayed to babysit and Jesse and I got to go away for the night!  It was our first night away from the kids in two years! It was wonderful to have some quality, uninterrupted time with each other - and some uninterrupted sleep!

Being a mom has challenged me and stretched me in ways that I never imagined. Every day I struggle against the desire to complain and compare my day to my childless friends' who get to "do whatever they want". But I wouldn't change being the mother of these two rambunctious, adventurous, thoughtful, smart, caring little boys for the world. I am their mother, and I will never be the same again.

It blows my mind to think of the number of mothers in the world, giving so much of themselves every day to nurture and build up the children that God has given them (whether biologically their own or not). Mothers, you make a world of difference. You are heroes!

Mommy Moments: A Proposition

I was thinking that there should really be an Olympics for all of the special skills you become trained in as a parent.

Some of the competitions could include:

• Speed diaper changing
• Long shushing (who can say the longest shh)
• Endurance shushing (who can say shh the most times in a row)
• Weight lifting (kids can be heavy!)
• Any number of tasks that must be completed with speed and accuracy while carrying a flailing toddler in the other arm.

What kinds of special events would you like to see in a Parents' Olympics?

Mommy Moments: Accomplishments

Being a mother gives you an incredible opportunity to push yourself and achieve things you never thought you could do.

I just read Fox in Socks out loud without making any mistakes.

I'm so proud of myself.

Bedtime Battles

When people talk about the "terrible twos", I used to be kind of skeptical. My general opinion was that it couldn't really be that bad, and that people were probally overreacting.

Steven is two now.

It's challenging.

Actually he began to insist on his autonomy a couple of months ago, but now he officially has the number of birthdays to match it. And boy is he trying our patience.

The primary source of frustration currently is bedtime. He just won't stay in bed, and now that he can open doors he won't stay in his room either. Trying to get him to stay in his room has become a struggle of epic proportions.

Up until recently our tactics in dealing with this have been rather haphazard. At first we generally tried being stern. "Go back to bed," we would tell him in a firm voice. That worked... the first couple times. Then he realized that even though we told him to go back to bed, nothing was forcing him to. We had to get continually more firm (and sometimes even angry), and after a while even that wouldn't work. Once when I told him to go back to bed and he smiled and continued walking right past me, I knew I had to try something different.

Next I tried sitting beside his bed. Then I could stop him from getting out in the first place. It did stop him from getting out of bed, but only if I stayed until he fell asleep. That would sometimes take hours. And I don't have hours of extra time in my day. If I was alone with the kids it was especially challenging. Sometimes the baby would start crying right as Steven was about to fall asleep or I'd have to leave to room for some other reason and then we would have to start all over again.

My next idea: Get him a new nightlight. I began to wonder if the old light we'd been leaving on for him was too bright and was encouraging him to stay awake. Also, we had gift card money from Christmas presents. So I got him a night light that shines stars on the ceiling. He absolutely loves it. The problem? He keeps coming out to get us so we can see the stars.

I think our main problem so far has been consistency - we kept trying different things. I'd do something, Jesse would do something else, I'd start one approach, then have to change mid-evening because Kenneth needed my attention. So this week we finally sat down and devised a plan. It is something that we can follow no matter who is home or whatever else is going on, so we should be able to be consistent with it. I have no idea if it will work, but we're going to stick with it for at least a week and see if any progress has been made.

Here's the plan: We go through his bedtime routine, which ends with us leaving him tucked into his bed with his star nightlight. The first time he comes out we take him back to bed, make sure he doesn't need anything, remind him that it's bedtime, and warn him that if he leaves his room again we will have to take the star nightlight away. The second time he comes out we take the star nightlight away, tuck him back in, and tell him it is time to go to sleep. Then every time he comes out after that we silently take his hand, walk him back to bed, and put a blanket over him, without giving him any attention or interaction. This happens again and again until he falls asleep. The theory is that eventually he will get the message that getting up really isn't exciting and won't get him more attention and he'll learn to just stay in bed and go to sleep.

The first night we tried this, he was in and out of bed for almost three hours. The second night it was two hours. That's where we are right now. It's tiring, but currently it's taking just as long as any of the other ways we were trying to get him to sleep, and it does let me do other things in my evening, even if what I'm doing is interrupted every minute or so to put him back to bed.

So we'll see what happens! He is pretty stubborn, so it may take a while, but Jesse and I are pretty stubborn too, and we're ready to give this a solid try. I'll let you know how it goes!

Maxed Out

Having kids has pushed me to my limits more than anything I have ever done.  I really didn't expect that.

Direct multiple plays with casts of over 50 kids aged 6-18?   Sure!

Travel to the other side of the world by myself to go to Bible school for a year?  Why not?

Get a B.A. with the highest GPA in my graduating class?  It may have cost me some stress and a couple all-nighters, but I did that too.

But try to put a teething toddler who is coming down with a cold to bed when he is determined to not be in his room, while the baby (who is also teething) starts crying whenever I leave to try to put the toddler back to bed?  Within minutes I become an emotional wreck who is ready to curl up in the fetal position and never move again.

I'm used to feeling much more competent than this.