Would You Whisper In My Ear?

I surveyed the many messes around the house as I contemplated the chaos which would drive me through the afternoon and evening.  Two soccer practices, birthday shopping, baking cupcakes, making dinner, 90 minutes of carpool spanning three schools and seven children.  My heart felt heavy and my spirit felt bound by many obligations.  The heat in the house was rising on this late summer day as quickly as my feelings of dread.  I decided to turn on the air so that at least I wouldn’t be overwhelmed and sweaty.  As I leaned over the dining table to close the window, I heard the air conditioning unit turn on and I felt the cool air begin to blast through the vent on to my face.  And my heart was hit with a sentiment of gratitude.  Thank you, Lord, for the gift of air conditioning.  I didn’t just say the words.  I felt them.  I felt them as a tangible expression of God’s grace to me.  He whispered in my ear and his words quickly trickled to my heart, and I knew it wasn’t me doing the right thing.  I wasn’t acting grateful, but God had given me the gift of gratitude.  He placed his hand under my chin and gently lifted my face.  He shifted my gaze to show me something sweet like a parent who kneels down next to their child to help them see something really neat.  In this simple gesture I was redirected from my troubled place. 

Hit by the reality that I don't do so well when left to my own.  I am humbled with the awareness that I need Him each day to whisper in my ear.  To show me what he sees.  To save me from my own self which often feels so feeble.  To do it with compassion.  To be unexpected.  Simply because he loves me. 

Thank you, Pinterest!

No sooner have I put the last pair of folded socks away in my drawer, I pivot to see a leg of jammies cascading down the side of the hallway hamper announcing, "It's full again!"  I clean the kitchen to make room to cook.  On my way back from dumping the trash, I deposit the used tissues that were scattered across the living room floor, an old homework assignment, and some junk mail.   The waste basket is already half full.  My life feels like the movie Groundhog Day as I do the same things over and over and over again.  There's something taxing about investing so much time and energy into things that feel so dreadfully impermanent, vanishing into thin air as if they never were.  And so I long for anything that feels like forward movement. Like sharing mango salsa with my good friend in the middle of two days worth of dirty dishes.  Jumping off the merry-go-round of obligation every now and then to share life with my heart. 

Enter Pinterest! Bite size pieces of moving forward.  Maybe it's a new idea for dinner, a small craft, or a new organizational tip.  Sometimes, it's simply mind candy as I imagine giving some little piece of my life a makeover.  Every now and again it's something I actually DO!  Tonight, I reorganized my linen closet after looking at a picture of a cabinet full of sheets where each set of sheets is stored inside a pillow case.  No big deal, and yet as I introduced a new kind of order to this itty bitty corner of my life, I felt a soft breeze flutter somewhere deep inside of me.    And I realize...  I really needed this.  

The Cruise Ship Baby and His Speed Boat Momma

The sun was warm.  The breeze blew mild.  The air felt fresh.  We sat on a bench, my four-year-old and I.  Having succumbed to his request to "watch the water," we marveled at the spontaneity of the fountain as we enjoyed a shared moment together.  Shooting out of the ground with little to no warning, sometimes the fountain danced with dramatic flair, high into the sky.  Other times, it hovered low to the ground.  Jonas squealed with delight as he settled his keen eyes on the choreographed wonder.  After several minutes of being entertained, I offered, "Are you ready to go?"  to which Jonas responded, "Can we watch two more times?"  I checked my watch.  I told him, "Sure!  We can watch two more times but then we should go."  He agreed.  We watched.  We assigned familial titles to the spurts of water.  "Whoa!! Now that's a big daddy fountain!"  Jonas giggled as he assigned new names to different spouts.  After "two times," he jumped up.  We headed for the escalator.  No trouble.  No tantrums.  Great conversation ensued as we made our way to the car.  I couldn't help but notice.  Such a nice time together.  What made the difference?  I'm pretty sure the difference was me.  I slowed down.  Left margins.  Gave him time to transition.  Let him feel heard. 

As a working mom, I am forever tempted to trample my kids under foot.  These little people who flourish in the rain of gentle playfulness, who do much better with a more tender rhythm find themselves subjected to my governing sense of urgency.  They don't do so well with my constant bark that testifies yet again, to the fact that we are running late.  The image of a speed boat came to mind.  I race to and fro attempting to manage the breadth of responsibilities that weigh so heavy upon me.  And yet, I am reminded.  My little side-kick isn't as speedy as I am.  Resembling more of a cruise ship, his turns are slow and the party isn't somewhere else.  It's right where he is.  

My Home is Wall-Papered with Good Intentions

Ok... so I'm always on the lookout for a blog or two that will validate that "working mom" is in fact a valid mothering category.  A blog that will concede and maybe even embrace that there are many women, in fact the majority of mothers, who both have careers AND are fully invested in the precious role of loving and raising children, even if it doesn't include scrapbooking.  If I had a dollar, scratch that... a nickel... for every blog written about/for/by homeschooling, crafting, stay-at-home moms, I could, at least, consider quitting my job.  But for those of us who both work and mother, the supportive resources can be quite skimpy.  

I giggled today when I ran across workingmother.blogspot.com.  Eureka!  A working mom blog!!  I eagerly poured over the website to discover a whopping two entries, 8/26/2001 and 9/2/2001.  Of course that is what you would find at a working mom's blog!  No time to write. The poor woman had enough heart to design the blog but only made it through two entries before calling it quits.  I have to say, as a working mom blogger whose words are few and far between (or at least far between...), workingmother.blogspot.com, your words (or rather lack thereof) brought comfort to my heart!  You  are familiar with the working mom's dilemma.  You know what it feels like to straddle the gap between all that we'd like to be and the reality of what can happen in a given day.  Thank you, WorkingMother.blogspot.com!  I owe ya one!

A Working Mom’s Home

 “The faint sent of lavender linen water – lavishly sprinkled on the sheets at the time they were ironed – floated in the upstairs hallway like a half-remembered dream” (From Saving CeeCee HoneyCut)

 Peculiar and unfamiliar words to the working mom in survival mode.  Lavendar linen water?  Ironed sheets?  Not in my house.  On the contrary, if I can just do enough laundry to ensure we all get to wear clean underwear, then "Shazam!" I’ve conquered the world of domesticity.

Even though my life is marked by infrequently changed bed sheets and frozen lasagnas for dinner, something in my heart lept as I read many of the warm images captured in this novel dripping in southern hospitality.  I was drawn in by many cozy feelings while simultaneously hard-pressed to reconcile the outrageous gap between this world and mine.  A gap created not only by the pressures of time, but by poverty of imagination, as well.

 

I am reminded of what the human body does in an emergency situation.  It’s in fight or flight mode that the body begins to shut down the so-called peripheral operations to maintain and preserve critical functioning such as that of the heart and lungs.  I can’t help but think that the fight or flight mentality of contemporary busyness has done something similar to my life.  I calculate my limited resources to ensure that homework is done, tummies are full, and we all wear fresh undies.  And yet something is clearly lost.  Something that I miss.  A sense of frivolity that allows me to be creative and playful in my home.  Maybe it’s cooking a new dish with fresh ingredients or simply doing some deep cleaning. Possibly, I would find it in simply sitting under a blanket fort, eating popcorn and swapping ghost stories with my kids.  

As I’ve taken some time to reflect on my life, I’ve begun to ask, how can we, as a busy family, bring some balance to our lives so that we don’t miss the joys of being fully alive in all that we do?   Just because I’m a working mom, while I may not be able to sustain some of the habits and routines of my stay-at-home buddies, do I have to give up completely?  The recent feelings I have encountered tell me I better not.

While I clearly don’t see the daily aroma of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls or salad straight from my garden in the near future, (Bummer!) I do believe that even our active household could take some baby steps.  I think it would start with our imaginations.  What kinds of things are important to us as we seek to make this space called a house, our home? 

Hats off to Elasti-girl

It was just a typical week.  No different than any other week.  Not harder than the week before and maybe easier than next week.  

A quick trip to soccer sign ups turned into a 2-hour affair complete with trips home for more documentation, three-year-old tantrums, lost shot records, and snarky phone conversations with my husband punctuated with a fussy baby soundtrack.  

A friend’s quick stop to pick up her kids from school became a baby possum in the wheel well, laying in the street in a dress, and a 30-minute wait for animal control. 

A casual attempt to go to church without my husband became a hesitant 3-year-old joining me in service, a hungry baby beckoning me back to the nursery, and a miscommunication with my older daughter necessitating a trip across the street mid-service.  I had three different seats, five phone calls, three texts, and one large booger handed to me, all in the course of 75 minutes.  Did I worship?  That's probably not what I would call it! : )

In moments like these, plans are suspended, expectations are challenged, and frustration tries to take hold.  Things aren’t going my way.  I sense a tantrum coming on.  This is not what I had in mind!  

My mind turns to Elasti-girl.  I think if I could have any special ability, I’d want hers.  How dramatically, could a big dose of flexibility completely transform my parenting?  As I reflect, I conclude that perhaps a secret to good parenting lies in this special trait.      

Any mom knows that there is nothing spectacular or unusual about these anecdotes.  Kids vomiting, dinner burning, missing shoes or jackets, lost homework, miscommunications, sibling squabbles, car trouble, sick babysitters, and the list goes on and on.  Us moms aren’t strangers to any wild concoction of any number of inconveniences and unwanted surprises.   Just like stretching can increase flexibility, my question is, what can I do to become a more flexible mom?  I’ve begun to construct a list and I know there’s room for more.  What do you think? 

1. Anticipate challenges. They aren’t the exception, they’re actually more often the rule.  Life often doesn’t go as planned.  How might more realistic expectations help?
2. Plan for challenges.  If challenges are likely to show up, maybe we should start leaving some space for the unexpected instead of lining up our days with back to back commitments. 
3. Maintain a sense of humor.  As we begin to leave space for snags, there’s also space to laugh.
4. Engage the flow of what life gives you, not what it doesn’t.  I actually discovered a fun time of bonding and twirling and giggling with my baby boy on the side of the road while AAA changed my flat tire the other day.  Even with a bolt in my tire, it turned out that there were treasures to be found.
5. Breathe deeply and let go. 
6. Practice gratitude.  Each day, even the hectic ones, are a gift from God.

A Slacker Day

In reflecting on my day, there are many things I didn’t do…  I didn’t go to the gym (Slacker!).  I didn’t fold the piles of laundry that suffocate my sofa.  I didn’t clean the house.  I didn’t take the much-needed trip to Costco.  I didn’t even wash a single dish all day.  All potential visitors to my home, please take note: B.Y.O.H. (Bring your own Hazmat suit).  

So if I did not do any of the above, what exactly did I do?  I stayed in my jammies until well past noon, read a book, had a picnic in the backyard with my kids, thought before reacting when my son began to tantrum in the grocery store, and perhaps best of all, I made eye contact with my kids when they spoke.  

As moms we have to make so many tough choices.  Each day, and maybe each moment, calls for something different.  Every choice carries with it benefits and drawbacks. Today is no different.  I chose to let a lot slide.  On the downside, I won’t be starting out my week with a clean house or a stocked pantry.  On the upside, can I tell you how great it feels to start out the week feeling connected to my kids and free from regrets.