I apologize for the radio silence around here. Actually, I don’t. Or I shouldn’t. I’m working on not feel guilty about things that really have nothing to do with my morality or my value as a human being, and frequent blogging (or blogging at all) just doesn’t fall into either of those categories. That said, I do miss writing just for the sake of writing as well as the community blogging can offer. So here I am.
I also realized that some of my longtime and most loyal readers may not do the social media thing. Thus, I’ve decided to start sharing some of my more meaningful Instagram thoughts over here. If these are repeats for some of you, I apologize. For real this time. Not because I necessarily feel guilty (although old habits do die hard), but simply because I am grateful for any blog readers I have left, and I know your time is a precious commodity and new material is always better than recycled words.
I remember when I had a house full of littles – or little, black holes of need as I used to affectionately refer to my pint-sized peeps back then – I would dream about the days when they were older and I would have so much more time to write and would finally wrap up that novel I’d started. Yet, here I am as busy as ever. Sure, I still have one ankle biter in my midst. Actually, 10-month-old Charlie is currently attempting to suck on my toe as I type. But the rest of my gang is fairly self-sufficient now. Thomas (6) and Mary E. (8) were actually the first two be all ready for school today.
I have an official teenager in the house now as well. Some of you may have started reading my blog back when it was Momopoly and Madeline was just a wakeful, feisty toddler. (Read this post about her bedtime routine for kicks. Hilarious how obsessive I was; I still thought I could maintain some semblance of control in the realm of parenting. I say hilarious once again.) Today she’s a night owl, feisty teenager, who, when she does finally succumb to sleep, isn’t always easy to rouse.
Yet, when I use the word feisty now, I say it with pride more than exasperation.
When we had her family party this past weekend, one of my nieces threw an epic tantrum, and it brought back so many, believe it or not, fond memories of Madeline’s tantruming days. There were the hours I spent in the bathroom as her poop doula desperately and mostly unsuccessfully trying to cajole her to just poop already while she kicked her legs and pushed me away with preternaturally strong arms.
There was the time when I threw a big blanket in a bathtub to provide padding and then placed a gone-bat-#!*@-crazy-Madeline in the makeshift isolation chamber as she thrashed about and shrieked like a rabid, feral animal over something that I can’t recall now but was surely ridiculous.
There were many, many other tantrums as well. I used to frequently suffer from PTSD (post tantrum stress disorder) and would wonder if she would ever get control of her flailing arms, emotions, and sphincter muscle. I’m happy to report she has!
She was a strong-willed one, that girl. She still is, but now this steel will is her super power. It protects her against peer pressure, most teen angst (we have our moments), and the body image pitfalls that seem to trip up so many girls her age. I share this to offer hope to any moms of toddlers who drive you cray-cray. There’s hope. This too shall pass. Not that things will get easier. I cannot and will not lie to you or any mom. I was delusional thinking I’d have all the luxury of endless stretches of time to write and dream and train for marathons once my kids were older. Life isn’t any less busy, and mothering still isn’t easy-breezy. It’s a different kind of hard (and busy) now, but that’s okay. I no longer fight the hardness of it or wish away the challenges or the years. I try to embrace it all – the messes, the stress, the interminable Ubering to and fro from myriad kids’ activities, the new challenges older children bring such as emotional stress and exhaustion more than just the physical-I-can-no-longer-move-or-think brand of bankruptcy.
I’m in an interesting spot: I’m presently watching a mobile baby, who has abandoned my tasty toe in favor of throwing a plastic cup and tracking down the tiniest specks on the hardwood floor and having them as a snack, and thinking of how my birthday girl – my freakin’ TEENAGER!!! – is doing on her special day.
And then there are all those other children wedged between my oldest and my youngest who bring me tons of joy and yes, healthy servings of exasperation daily.
Oldest and Youngest say hi! {From Instagram}
Because I have tasted the bittersweet passage of time and truly get the whole cliched dichotomy of how a mother’s days are long but her years are short, I’m no longer fighting against the hard stuff. It’s kind of like how I’ve always tried to approach birth and labor. Rather than fighting or wishing away the contractions and the physical suffering, I accepted them as a part of the process. Rather than worrying (too much) about when the next vise of pain would grip me, I savored the breather, the sweet, albeit brief, relief, and the rest period. And then when that baby is born, placed in my tired arms, the joy overwhelms me. It makes all that agony well, well worth it.
The birth of a baby seems like an appropriate microcosm for motherhood. Don’t fight the hard days or dwell on what you could have done differently. Try to not be anxious about what’s to come or even about what is at the moment. Stubborn, constipated toddlers will poop on their own some day. I promise. Grace will be available to you when really, really hard things come into your mothering life; there are things that I can’t even quite imagine yet and maybe, God willing, won’t have to – terminally ill sick children, crushing heartbreaks, drug addictions… Carry on, Christian-Soldier Mother. Sometimes carrying on is exactly what you’re called to do and really, the only thing you can do.
Now, as promised, I’ll close with an old Instagram post that seemed to resonate with a lot of mothers out there.
Before becoming a mother people and our society seemed to vocalize the more concrete, potential consequences of having children. I was informed of all that I might lose once that squawking little one was placed in my arms—money, my body, spontaneity, sleep. But even as I did start to lose some of those things, those weren’t the kinds of things that kept me up at night. More than being wary of all that I might lose, I was far more afraid of what I might gain. Once I had a baby, I would have a new insight into my humanity and I would be deeply invested in something I would love with all my being. But that love? Well, it might not be enough. Wrapped right along with that sweet bundle of joy was the sometimes crippling fear that I’d be a bad mother, or a mediocre one at best, and that despite caring so much, maybe too much, I’d make a mess not only of my own life but of those lives entrusted to me.
G.K. Chesterton said, “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.”
But we don’t want to do things badly. Getting fired from a job stinks, but feeling like you nurtured a bad seed or raised a terribly unhappy child? I’m not sure I could handle that. But what if I’d caved in to those fears? What if we all did? Being a parent is worth it—even when you make mistakes. Which we do. All of the time.
Having children sometimes brings happiness. We sometimes get things right. But maybe it’s when we don’t or when we aren’t doing a happy dance that it becomes even more apparent that accepting the call to parenthood is one of the bravest and most hopeful things we can do. Carry on, soldier-mother!
{Thoughts from Getting Past Perfect: Finding Joy & Grace in the Messiness of Motherhood}
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Oh, and one more thing (DISCLAIMER: affiliate links below). In case you haven’t heard, I’ve joined Take Up & Read, a ministry that invites women to read, ponder, and respond to the Word, as a tiny pencil in God’s mighty hand.
My first meditation appears in Rooted in Hope, the Advent journal. It’s available on Amazon, and the TAUR website includes a free study guide in case you want to gather a group as well as as an amazing FREE kids’ Advent journal (there are actually two versions available for download – one for younger kids and one for older).
***Please note: Affiliate links included. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.