Because Mothering Matters...

From one sometimes-snarly-and-snippety-mom to my fellow moms out there...who I assume are sometimes snarly and snippety, too. You are, right? It's not just me? Whew...

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Recently I read a list about the many hats we mothers wear and it made me smile. It also made me tired. In this roll call I recognize many of my day-to-day demands:

I am...

a mom,

a personal assistant,

a chauffer,

a singer,

a cleaning lady,

a laundress,

a hero,

a boo-boo kisser,

a librarian,

a swing pusher,

a bug killer,

a chef,

a big ole meanie,

a toy package dismantler,

a teacher,

a student,

a referee,

a stroller-pusher,

a dancer,

a mess.

Maybe I cried a little bit when I hit that last one, because it's so painfully true. Sometimes this role of mother is glorious and I hold my head high, proud of my role as mom:  when my daughter sticks her cartwheel on the balance beam or when my son surprises me with a hug (in front of his 6th grade buddies). When my girl snuggles up with me on the couch or when my littlest tells me that the best part of her day was me.

But honestly, many mornings and often in the afternoon, motherhood is more like trumping through the mud-slogged trenches than it is singing and traipsing across the mountaintops.

Kids fight.

Milk spills.

Laundry multiplies.

Meals flop.

Germs infest.

Toys breed.

To-Do lists lengthen.

Homework disappears.

Tempers flare.

Patience thins.

And just as I reach the end of me, inevitably another desperate need rears its ugly and demanding head and I have to dig a little deeper and stretch a little farther, knowing deep in my weary heart that I'll start the battle over tomorrow. Hence my tearful response to that final line...I am a mess.

But within this mess of mothering, I find meaning because mothering matters to God. 

He tends His flock like a shepherd:

He gathers the lambs in His arms

and carries them close to His heart;

He gently leads those that have young.
Isaiah 40:11

This gentle reminder that God cares for me in the midst of my caring for my family stirs something deep in my soul, stirs up a desire for my day-to-day to be different. It would seem that I have two choices when I face the endless demands of my household:  I can put my head down and tackle my chores purely out of a sense of duty because that's what "good moms" do (blech). Or, I can ask God to transform my attitude and empower me to embrace each task as a sacred responsibility in tending to the welfare of my family. In this light, the above list takes on an entirely new vibrancy...

A personal assistant with the unique responsibility of preserving our family-time, hands linked around the dinner table.

A chauffer with regularly scheduled quality time with my kids when they're strapped into their seats and can't get away from me.

A singer with the privilege of introducing my kids to the wonder of 80's music and utterly embarrassing them by belting out the lyrics.

A cleaning lady with the unique honor of making this house a haven for my family.

A laundress with the weekly blessing of praying for each one in my family, from the tops of their heads to the holes in their socks.

A hero because I can tell you where to find almost anything in the house, be it your shoes, your homework or the exact location of that sticky rubber frog you got at the doctor's office.

A boo-boo kisser with the capacity to comfort my kids, whether it's a skinned knee or a wounded heart.

A librarian sharing in the joy of exploring new and incredible worlds without ever leaving the living room couch.

A swing pusher with front row seats to the uncontainable joy of feeling the wind in your hair and the sheer exhilaration of flying.

A bug killer who is sometimes a bug rescuer, teaching about the preciousness of life and the need to respect and care for God's creation. (Unless it's an ugly spider...then squish.)

A chef with the responsibility to care for the insides and outsides of my brood by making sure that what goes into their bodies is beneficial for them, while also passing on a passion for good food and kitchen dancing.

A big ole meanie with the tough job of instilling in my kids a healthy respect for authority with the willingness to sometimes "not be cool".

A toy package dismantler with hands on opportunities to model patience, restraint and a muzzle over my mouth in challenging and frustrating situations.

A teacher. Every. Single. Day.

A student learning from inside this crucible of motherhood about God's goodness. And also learning a lot about new and complicated ways to do simple math.

A referee striving to teach my children about fairness and justice. And about the hidden blessings of serving and letting someone else have the last package of fruit snacks.

A stroller pusher with daily opportunities to stop. Slow down. Explore the habitat of roly-polies. Marvel at the wonder of springtime. 

A dancer laughing as my kids either sit slack-jawed or clap their hands over their eyes as I demonstrate my amazing dancing skilz.  

A mess...I'm still a mess, but a mess with a purpose.

This shift in perspective has not altered my mother lode of tasks but it has had a life-altering impact on the load this mother is able to carry. As long as I remember that my mothering matters.

As we enter into this weekend and pause for a moment to honor motherhood, I hope you will find a moment to acknowledge that while you are exhausted, you are exhausted for a good reason. And I pray that you will hear clearly when God whispers to your heart that you are an amazing mother to your children and your mothering matters. In ways you can't even imagine.

A snapshot of a moment when I remembered
the sacredness of my mothering.

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I added a few additional "jobs" to the above list, roles that I find myself filling on a regular basis. I'm sure you have a few you would add, too, and I hope you can find a lighter and brighter perspective on those jobs, as well.  Blessings on you!

The original list can be found here.

When Did You Grow?

Several weeks ago I went to MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers, i.e. life-line to adult interaction, morning to eat my breakfast without snitchers, validation station of all things mommy ... you get the picture).  For a few meetings our group had a swap-meet of sorts.  We could bring in our pre-loved baby clothes, kid equipment, maternity tents :) etc. and trade them for other things we might need that someone else wanted to get out of their house.  I hefted a couple of bags of clothes, books and baby paraphernalia in to the meeting and came out with three pairs of little girl shoes.  A perfect trade!

Little Ashley is now proudly sporting a pair of wanna-be Birkenstocks and she loves them.  In fact, it's entirely possible that she is still wearing them right now as she naps.  I can only imagine the stinky toe-ness that is fermenting in those cute, little, leather clogs.  I guess when she's done with them we can either fumigate them or burn them ... depending on how much tread they still have on the bottom.

The other two pairs of shoes I got for Lydia.  They were cute.  They were girly.  They were perfect for a pixy girl who lately has been wearing black PowerRanger snow boots or a pair of brown little faux-letter boots of which she has worn the toes right off.  Girly & Cute verses Black & Brown & Broken ... it's a no-brainer.  I checked the sizes and decided that while it was possible that they would be too big for her right now, her feet are guaranteed to grow.  Most likely by this summer they would be a perfect fit.

When we got home, before we even hung up our coats, the girls were trying on their shoes.  They get that from me. :)  I want to wear/try-out/play with anything new immediately.  Ashley actually had one clog on before we even got out of the van.  I had to encourage her to at least make it to the living room before getting the other one on.  She was thrilled and as I said earlier, she has worn them ever since.

Lydia still needs help getting her pudgy toes into her shoes so she walked around behind me as I unpacked a few things from the van ... pounding me on the legs with her new shoes and shouting, "Ma ... too ... Ma ... too!"  Translated:  "Mom, I want to wear my shoes, too!  Can't you go potty later?"  Finally I was finished with all my important business and plopped down on the stair next to Liddy.  She had the little pair of pink tennis-shoes in her hand and she was sticking her cutsy foot in my face ... just in case I didn't know where the shoes should go.  I pulled back the velcro and started to slide the shoe on her foot.  And that was it ... I managed to get three inches of her foot into the shoe.  What's the deal?  I checked inside the shoe to make sure she hadn't stuffed her socks in there.  Nope.  Empty.  Hmm ... I tried again.  No such luck.  I then did the mommy-trick of putting the sole of the shoe against the bottom of her foot ... only to discover that her little piggies would NEVER fit in this shoe.  When did she grow so much?!?

Dumbfounded, I set that pair aside pulled out the second pair of freebie shoes.  The sparkly gold sandals.  I undid the velcro strap on the back and literally stuffed her chubby feet into the shoes.  I wriggle the straps around to make sure that all her toes were still together (nothing worse than the baby piggy getting separated from the rest of the bunch!) and then just barely managed to pull the velcro strap back around.  She smiled.  She stood up.  She strutted away.  And I watched as her adorable little toesies stuck out over the edges of the shoes.

I was flabbergasted!  How did I miss out on her growing two entire shoe sizes?  Even being home with her 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 52 weeks of the year ... she's still growing up faster than I can keep up!  And it's hard on my mommy-heart.
This is my baby and before my eyes
... she's growing out of the shoes that I thought would be too big,
... she's talking/yelling more than she did last week,
... she's wearing capris that used to be pants,
... she's "reading" books that she used to just chew on,
 ...sigh...

It's bound to happen ... but I'm still not used to the idea of itty-bitty Liddy being big.

Congratulations! You're a Mom!

Just a word of caution ... the follow post may be too much for non-mothers.  And it might also serve as birth-control for those considering motherhood.  Just be warned. :)
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We got word this morning that a there is new mommy and daddy at our church ... and a new little bundle of joy!  Yeah!  Watching this new mommy over the past several weeks as she was waiting for the new arrival, and then seeing a post on Facebook that she was headed to the hospital and then seeing the updated post this morning of the name and weight ... took me back a few years to Aaron's arrival and my own induction into motherhood.

Now you might think that this walk down memory lane would be all about the warm fuzzies of holding that little bundle and meeting that precious person for the first time.  It could be.  But it isn't.  This is more of a return to the Twilight Zone: the crazy new-mom-stuff someone could have warned me about - but, didn't; the deep fog that passed over my brain upon delivery and the missing days following our return home that just Poof! disappeared.

We'll start at the very beginning ...

I remember early on in my pregnancy of being sure that I wanted to deliver naturally.  Naturally, I was crazy!  When my little buddy had trouble making an entrance in the world, I was induced and spent that entire day in a pain-induced fog.  My husband and I still joke about the horrible noises I as emitting in an attempt to not scream or cry.  Think guttural.  By nighttime, I was ready for some drugs and relieved that an epidural was still an option.  When all was said and done, it did end and I did have a sweet boy to love.  But he wasn't a little baby ... he was already a kid.  I remember when they laid him across my stomach, thinking, "He's huge ... how did he fit?!"  So much for itty-bitty parts to smooch!

As they busied about cleaning my son and documenting the delivery I realized that I was ferociously hungry ... running a marathon on a piece of toast will do that to you!  Unfortunately, the hospital kitchen was closed and all the nurse could round up was a handful of saltine crackers and some peanut butter packets.  Those were the best mini-pb-cracker-sandwiches I have ever eaten!  Delish!

We headed to our room listening to the little whimpering mews of our baby Aaron.  We were both disillusioned into thinking that he would be a meek little guy ... until he let us have it a few hours later!  These two newbie, sleep-deprived, exhausted parents with a crying baby and only a few "book ideas" in our parenting tool-box ... that was fun! :)  The nurses in the maternity ward took pity on us and gave us a few hours of blissful sleep while they swaddled and rocked Aaron.  Thank you, again and again!

The next morning I woke up and ordered some breakfast ... and then proceeded to cry into my eggs and toast.  Poor Brett woke up in the torture-rack/lazy-boy-chair to his sad little wife sniffling and weeping - awash in post-pregnancy hormones.  The wise man that he is, simply patted my hand.  Eventually the sudden sadness passed and Brett asked, "Do want me to see if they can send Aaron down?"  To which I replied, "Who's Erin?"  Again ... Brett being a wise man did not laugh, he just clarified:  "Aaron, our son."  Ahhh, yes ... that would be swell!

Unfortunately, the foggy-brain syndrome didn't pass immediately.  Later that same day, Aaron was fussing and Brett asked me, "When did he eat last?  Maybe he's hungry."  I thought back over the past several hours and answered, "Uhm ... the big hand was on the 3."  Yep ... I was trying to pay attention, my brain just wasn't cooperating.  I also seemed to have a lot of trouble remembering the names of the people caring for me.  There was one lady, in particular, that was a challenge for me.  I kept calling her "Swifty" ... close - it was "Silky".

A few post-partum things I wish that someone would have filled me in on:

1. Sometime following the delivery, I was struck by a train.  That it is the only explanation for the full-body misery that I felt.  I felt like I need a body-sized ice-bag.
2. Breast-feeding is a learned skill.  It does not come naturally for mom or baby ... but with time it gets easier.  More on that later.
3. Any privacy that I might have enjoyed evaporated upon conception.  I never dreamed I would have perfect strangers helping me to have the baby "latch-on" properly ... several at one time.
4. The nurses and doctors are perfectly happy to send a defenseless baby home with an inexperienced, clueless and already-fatigued individual.  And smile and wave while she drives away.
5. It was essential that I had someone else taking care of me ... otherwise I was destined to eat breakfast at 2 pm.  I am forever grateful for the eggsalad sandwiches my mom made and kept in the fridge ... again, the most delicious morsels I had ever eaten.  Ever.
6. Stress manifests itself in a variety of ways.  For me, it was crying.  I cried.  A lot.  About everything.  
7. Sleeplessness does different things to different people.  For me, it was crying.  I cried.  A lot.  About everything.  (Did I say that already?)

We became a family in the blink of an eye ... but it took time to get to know one another and get along well.  Fortunately, we had a lot of time to learn:  days and nights and days and nights.  They all kind of blurred together!  Eventually, we soon found ourselves in a rhythm and our days and nights became less stressful and more enjoyable.  As I became more and more of a student of my son, I learned his cries and discovered that I could decipher his needs.  I also learned his likes and his dislikes and was better able to meet his needs.  I also had some help!  Daddy, books, family and friends all helped to make our transition from couple to couple+one a tad bit smoother.

We still had a couple of bumps along the road ...

The biggest one being the Breast-feeding Bump.  It was a doozy!  Aaron was a super hungry eater from the start ... he came out wanting steak, I think.  Before my milk came in he was nursing 22 hours a day ... or at least it seemed like it.  Our nurse encouraged us to supplement a bit with formula in order to help him feel full and give me a break.  That was great, except that she gave us a little dixie cup and expected us to somehow get the sweet goodness from the cup to his belly in spite of his his inability to drink from a cup.  Most of that when down his front and curdled.  Eventually, my milk came in ... with a vengeance.  The poor kid was drinking from a fire hose!  And there there were the tricky techniques to learn:   balance-the-baby-with-no-head-support and cover-yourself-properly and don't-scream-when-he-bites.  Techniques you can only learn with practice and in the privacy of your own home.  But what if, just what if, that little peanut gets hungry when you aren't at home ... and you have to nurse him ... in public?!?  I have a vivid memory of attending our birthing class reunion when Aaron was a few weeks old.  I didn't have any of these moves down yet - not even close.  I remember his meal time rolled around and we were still hanging out.  I tried to discreetly turn my chair around, cover him up and fill his belly.  What we ended up with was milk everywhere, a baby with an unsatisfying and messy meal and mommy wearing a baby blanket home to hide all the spills.  It was a disaster!  Eventually we both (baby and Mommy) figured it out ... but then he was on to solid food!  Now ... the with the next kid, I was ready and this aspect of mothering actually became a joy instead of a headache.

I also experienced the I Have Nothing to Show for My Day Bump.  Suddenly I was needed 24/7 by this little person and many of the tasks that I had previously accomplished with ease suddenly became major accomplishments.  To have the dishes done before Brett came home became one of my daily goals.  I also made it a priority to get dressed ... maybe even showered.  If it was a good day, Brett might even get treated to a hot meal ... made by me.  Essentially, I had to re-evaluate my priorities in my daily routine:  baby and family, first; house, second.  I remember it being a challenge to have a home that wasn't up to my standards on a regular basis, but the important things were getting done and the rest just had to wait.  Again, eventually, I found myself in a new familiar routine that allowed for me to enjoy being mom and tackle the day-to-day needs of our home.  It just took time.


Finally, I also experienced the My Body Will Never Ever Be the Same Bump ... or should I say, Lump. I've heard the saying, "Nine months on, nine months off" ... but I'm currently in the "Nine years off" program!  I still have a few clothing items that I have hung on to ... hoping, but most of my clothes in my closet are from my post-baby wardrobe.  Sometimes it bothers me a bit to still be carrying some of Aaron ... and the other three kiddos ... around with me, but I really have had to let this go.  Even if I was to be at my pre-baby weight, I know that my body has changed, spread, shifted.  Mainly in the hip area.  Yeah ... definitely the hip area. :)  I have had to have a change in perspective about my body ... I may not be model-worthy ... but I'm a mom.  And I have the stretch-marks to prove it!  (And just so you first time moms know ... the second (third, fourth...) kid gives you new stretch-marks!  All their very own stretch-marks!  So sweet!) 


So many memories from those first months home with my little Aaron.  Some snapshots are kinda foggy:  "Where did that picture come from ... and am I wearing your gym shorts?  Awesome."  Some snapshots are crystal-clear:  "I think he smiled.  Or maybe that was a toot and a smile ... but it was still a smile."


I just have to leave you with a song by Sara Groves that makes me cry almost every time I hear it.  It's from her album, "Station Wagon ~ Songs for New Parents".  She wrote many of these songs after her first baby was born.  It's full of wonderful prayers and lullabies with a few silly songs thrown in for fun.  I highly recommend it for your musical library.  :)  Here are the words to "Small Piece of You" ... but you really should buy it and hear it for yourself.

Small Piece of You

By Sara Groves
I just want a small piece of you a token to put in my pocket and I will own that one things and it would make me happy I just want a small piece of you somethin to put in a locket and i will look at it daily and that will make me happy I guess it's human nature to want to hold you very still I guess it's in a mother to inject a little guilt Go on son and see the world; I hope you see it all But please please please don't forget to call Free to fly free to go free to not look back That's how free I want you though it scares me half to death Free to wander miles and miles and free to come back home That's how free I want you though it chills me to the bone ...Go on son and spread your wings; I hope that you take flight But please please please don't forget to write I know you're just a baby sleeping in your bed And you probably have other thoughts drifting through your head I know this conversation's a little premature It's just that I've heard eighteen years goes by like a blur ...I know that it's not fair for me to hold you down now is it But please please please don't forget to visit Free to fly free to go free to come back home...

See ... she made me cry again! :)  Now, go hug your kids if you've got 'em.  Or at least, go call your mother! :)

1, 2, 3 ... Let Go!

There are a number of elements of being a mom that are just like I expected them to be (snuggling sleepy newborns, the delightful smell of babies fresh from the tub, cuddling while reading a bed-time book) ... right alongside plenty of other aspects of mothering that I was completely unprepared for!  I had no idea that when I said, "I want to have a natural labor" that I was going to be begging for an epidural.  I had no idea that breast-feeding was actually an art form and that everyone (including the baby) had to learn how to do it.  I had no idea that I could make one shower stretch so long into the week.  I had no idea that I could be surrounded by little people 24/7 and still feel very lonely.  I had no idea that I would lose part of my brain with each child and find myself calling my husband to unlock my van, only for him to find the passenger-side window half-way down.  I had no idea that I would be the one to sleep through night-time issues ... and that Daddy would be the one to respond first.  I had no idea that I would hang onto frozen breast milk waaaay past weaning ... just because it was the end of an era.  I had no idea that one home could house an entire toy-store with gadgets for kids of all ages.  But I also had no idea that I would get so attached to the baby toys, blankets, outfits and books and have so much trouble letting go!

We are currently in that strange limbo-land of moving away from baby paraphernalia and moving toward a life of more big-kid stuff.  It's an inevitable transition, but that doesn't make it any easier for me.  Brett has been very patient and allowed me to continue to store much of our baby gear (thank goodness for our attic!) but it is becoming more and more obvious to me that I can't hold on to this stuff forever!  When we had baby Lydia, I went through all the boy clothes and with a good amount of tears managed to whittle the 9 boxes down to just a few sentimental outfits to hang on to.  The true blessing came over the next few weeks as friends came by to "shop" our boy boutique ... it was wonderful to pass on our abundance of clothing, knowing that they were all going to be enjoyed by some other little rumble, tumble tyke.

We have done the same with the baby girl clothes Lydia has grown out of ... but lately it has become more pressing to pass on more of the big "stuff" and that strikes me right in my mommy-heart.  There are a few items that I will probably never be able to let go of:  the crib (all my babies slept there), the jungle-gym mat (way too many memories) and a few of the kids' favorite baby toys (my grandbabies will need toys when they visit, right?).  But that leaves a lot of items that need new homes.

Over the past several weeks, I have been able to see a few needs and feel in my heart that I can part with some of this "stuff" knowing it is helping someone else out.  We purged the baby rattles and toys a few weeks ago and while it was weird bagging up those memories, it was liberating to clear out some baskets and boxes ... again, knowing some little sweetie would be enjoying these goodies.  A few weeks ago we pulled the changing table out of the bathroom and cleaned out the drawers of all the baby supplies and moved the desk to the basement.  Now we have just a small changing station in the baby girls' room and we can see the end to this age of diapers.  (Now that does get me excited ... but it's still a little bitter-sweet.)  We recently gave our stroller and car-seat to a baby boy and his teen-mom.  That felt good knowing this little guy was going to be safe and comfy.  And in spite of giving away a lot of stuff ... there is still more to let go of.

Some of you may not have felt this need to hold on to the baby years ... maybe you are just thrilled you survived :) and you are more than ready to move on!  But for those of you who are like me, sobbing through the end of Toy Story 3 (darn you Pixar! for preying on every one of my mommy-insecurities!) and clinging to these baby "things" ... let me share a few things that have helped me.

• I have found that if I keep a few items from each kid - something that will capture their growing personality or freeze-frame a particular moment time - I don't feel as bad.  I have a bin in the attic with these mementos and I am happy to know that a few little items are safe and sound.
• I take lots of pictures and that is a great way for me to see our kids enjoying or even wearing those items I have to let go of.
• Instead of just sending items to Goodwill (which is a great place to donate), I try to find out specific needs in my circle of friends - it's nice knowing who gets the double blessing of our clothes and gear ... and sometimes I get the joy of seeing some outfits being worn again!
• I am not rushing to toss out the baby stuff ... I think that it is important to let myself grieve the end of my child-bearing season, knowing that my child-rearing season is still in full swing.  By allowing this process of letting go set it's own course, I feel that I can fully embrace and be enthusiastic about this season of training up big kids!  It's a new season with it's own mementos I'm sure I will want to keep forever! :)

Tonight as we put the kids to bed, I watched them each snuggle in with their own favorite "lovies".  Aaron had his beloved purple and turquoise pterodactyl and his tie-dye t-shirt pillow in bed with him.  Norah had her favorite, floppy, flowered pillow that she likes to wrap her fingers up in.  Ashley had her favorite purple quilt made by my sweet friend, Kim.  She loves to run her fingers across the satin edge as she falls asleep. Lydia was snuggled up on her zebra pillowcase from Auntie Allie and was clutching her little blue pillow with the white sheep (made by Cousin Rebekah), her Eeyore blanket from her friend Taylor and her "boppie" which was a baby blanket we wrapped her in when she was a wee-one.  Ooooh, boy!  (sniff, sniff...) I think it will be a loooong while before I'm able to part with any of those :).

Of course, Brett tells me I'll always have a little kid in him to take care of :) ... and he has lots of toys!