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Haven’t I been over this before?

September 23, 2011 in Mercy of God, Motherhood, The Organized Heart with 1 Comment

At the conference I spoke at this past weekend, the theme was “Viewing Our Struggles Through the Lens of the Gospel.” And though I spent a lot of time in the book of Habakkuk, it covered a lot of the same ground I covered in my book.

The Organized Heart was about a particular struggle: the struggle to live an organized life. I discussed how the struggle occurs because we place something else above the work we need to do.

The conference covered the same thing, except I didn’t speak specifically to disorganization, I spoke about struggles in general.

I’ve been tired lately. Why? Because now that my son has started public school, I have to get up 90 minutes earlier than I’m used to in order to see him off to the bus on time. I can fudge on too little sleep for awhile, but now it’s starting to catch up with me. I’m tired during the day and not as effective as I should be.

At risk of over-explaining and insulting your intelligence, there is no biblical principle as to what time one should go to sleep at night. But there are biblical principles about being a good steward of your time, taking care of your body, and being able to serve God and your family. Staying up too late affects each of these things.

This is a continual problem for me. I get frustrated when I hear the alarm go off, know that I haven’t slept enough and I’m starting the day already behind. Why am I back here again? How many times do I need to learn this lesson the hard way?

The steps to conquering it are the same as any other issue that comes up in life.

1. Confession and prayer. Always start there. We never conquer sin in our own power.

2. What’s the payoff? In other words, what is it that means so much to me that I’m willing to put it ahead of what I know I should be doing. In this case, it’s my solitude and the freedom to relax without any sort of deadline looming over me.

For instance, Todd and my oldest son have left, and the younger two are still sleeping, so I do have solitude right now. But I know in a few minutes I’ll have to get off the couch and get on with the day.

3. Remind myself what my purpose is. My purpose in life is to glorify God and enjoy him forever. In this season of life, I primarily bring glory to God by serving my family. That should be my focus. With that in view, I need to seek God’s glory first and foremost, and trust that he will provide what I need in his timing.

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Turning the Page

August 30, 2011 in homeschooling, Motherhood with 5 Comments

It’s been over a week now since our oldest child went from homeschool to public school.

(I wish I had video of him getting on the bus on the first day. He said he didn’t care if I walked to the bus stop with a camera, but I think he was just calling my bluff.)

I waited to write about it, mostly because I wanted to say something profound, and nothing profound has come. He used to be homeschooled, and now he’s in public school.

I always said I was the most surprised person in the room when we decided to homeschool. I was nearly as surprised when we decided to send him to public school. Although I was never so stridently pro-homeschool as to think it was something everyone should do, I was pretty hard-core for a while. I had every intention of seeing it through.

It’s easy, when they’re five, to assume that you’re always going to have all the say-so. Then they become teenagers. And all of a sudden they have ideas and opinions that are worthy of consideration. They become better at some things than you are. And then you see that maybe you don’t always have all the answers, and that they get a vote.

Don’t get me wrong — Todd and I still cast the deciding vote in this operation (my kids read this, so I need to make that clear). If this were a corporation, we’d own 99% of the stock. But it’s nice to talk to the stockholders now and then, too. (It helps when the ~~stockholder~~ child is a great kid with nice friends and lives in a good school district. Just so you know.)

So he’s in school. And like homeschool, there are advantages and disadvantages. And like most other parenting decisions, we’ll know in about a decade whether it was the right thing to do (that lag time between the decision and final outcome is one of the toughest things about parenting. I think we did okay when it comes to pacifier use, but beyond that? Pfft.)

I can’t say how I’ll feel about all this in 2021 (or next week, for that matter), but for now, it’s good. As far as I can tell, that’s the best you can do.

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Rainy Days and Unbelief Always Get Me Down

January 19, 2011 in Mercy of God, Motherhood, Real Women Love Theology, The Organized Heart with 3 Comments

Yesterday dawned cloudy and gray. The cloud cover was making it easy for the kids to sleep in, and I was alone in the living room, sipping my coffee.

I thought about the things on the agenda for the day, and it depressed me. None of it looked appealing. Not the laundry, not the housework, not the homeschooling. Laundry and housework are never my favorites, so that was understandable. Homeschool is usually something I enjoy (in theory, anyway), but lately? Not so much.

One of the kids has entered a rough patch in school. We’re kind of at an impasse, where it feels like no progress is being made. I’ve been here before, and I know how this works. We’ll plug along, day after day, and then one day a gear will catch inside his head and we’ll start moving forward again. Knowing this, though, and slogging through it anyway are two different things.

The same child is unprepared for his piano lesson. He’ll take this hard, and since he’s at a place where he can’t practice effectively without my help, I feel mostly responsible.

My oldest is going to public school next year, so for the first time I feel the traditional school calendar pressing on me. We still have some things to cover. The idea that he might head to school unprepared because his mother was busy writing a book on organization is an irony I don’t care to live out.

All little things, really. Many people in the world are facing much harder problems than this, but it was the kind of day where I wanted to call in tired. The only thing that sounded appealing was to curl up in my quilt and watch Austen adaptations on TV. Never mind all that stuff I wrote in my book, I was in a funk, and I preferred to stay there (at least for the five hours of Pride and Prejudice, anyway).

And that’s the biggest part of the problem: I wrote a book about this. I know the cause of my angst is really unbelief. I even outlined it carefully and sent it to a publisher. And now they’re going to put their money where my mouth is and bind it up in print on real pages. I should be beyond this kind of thing by now, shouldn’t I?

There are worse things than waking up with a case of the blahs. I wasn’t spiking my coffee with hard liquor or entertaining gentleman callers. My kids were going to wake up confident that I wasn’t going to spend the day beating them or screaming obscenities. If I decide to ignore my work and do my own thing, I’m going to look downright serene compared to some households in the world.

But while I look the part of the sweet Midwestern housewife, searching Netflix for period dramas and pouring yet another cup of coffee, this is really my passive-aggressive way of shaking my fist at God.

How dare you ask me to work on a day like today! What were you thinking, making it cloudy when I’m tired and have so much to do? Why does homeschool have to be hard? Why can’t things be easier? The wall-to-wall carpet in my three-bedroom, two-bathroom house has to be vacuumed, and I don’t want to. Why do you ask so much of me?

I’m working through The Bruised Reed again, so it picked it up from the end table. Reading Puritan writers isn’t on my to-do list, either, but it looks better. I’m a sly one, I tell you. I can find all manner of good things with which to stall from the work at hand. This is what I read:

As seed rots in the ground in the winter time, but after comes up better, and the harder the winter the more flourishing the spring, so we learn to stand by falls, and get strength by weakness discovered…We take deeper root by shaking.

And later:

Weakness, with acknowledgement of it, is the fittest seat and subject for God to perfect his strenth in; for consciousness of our infirmities drives us out of ourselves to him in whom our strength lies.

Yes, I am weak. I would much rather play than work. I live a life of blessing and ease, and yet I still grumble and complain.

So I got up and got to work. As blessed as it would have been to have woken up with a song in my heart and a good attitude in my head, I didn’t. It is what it is. I began the work of the day: clearing the counter, paying the bills, working on math.

I wish I could report that it turned out to be a great day, but it was just an okay day. School and piano lessons went better than I thought they would, but I can’t say that they went swimmingly. I arrived at the grocery store just after the noon news began forecasting snow, and had to deal with the crowds (Hank Williams, Jr. is correct that country folks can survive, but they still prefer to stock up on toilet paper before snow storms, given the chance).

But by the end of the day, I had done what I needed to do. Not perfectly, but with a smoldering wick of faith in the only One who matters. And some days, that is about as good as it gets.

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A Month of Thanksgiving – 18

November 18, 2010 in Just for fun, Motherhood, Thankful Thursday, Uncategorized with 0 Comments

So in my last post (back in August) I mentioned that soccer season was approaching and I wasn’t sure how it would work. And now I know. It went better than I thought it would, but it still nearly killed me. Okay, nearly killed me is probably an exaggeration, but it made me extremely tired. Not the same thing, but it feels like it is.

I was incredibly blessed that all three kids were placed on teams with people we knew. During the times when they all had to be in different towns at the same time, knowing that I had other parents to ~~foist my children on~~ help give rides kept my head from exploding.

I was also so thankful to get plenty of time to catch up with real-life bff Becky while our girls ran endless drills during practice.

We wrapped up our marathon soccer season by taking the kids to Disney World for five days. Because Disney World is where tired people go to rest. All sarcasm aside, we had a great time. Disney World trips are a luxury for which we are thankful.

But sweet mercy, we were tired.

Still, I am thankful. I am thankful that the Lord sustained me through an incredibly busy autumn, for a great vacation with my family, and for the chance to rest.

During the month of November, Rebecca and other bloggers are listing things they are thankful for. I haven’t participated until today (Did I mention I’ve been busy?), but I hope to do a little better for the rest of the month.

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Seedlings Turn Overnight to Sunflowers

June 29, 2010 in Motherhood with 5 Comments

Toy Story 3.

I don’t want to spoil it, but if you’ve seen any of the previews you know that it centers around Andy going off to college.

I realize that after the previous week I set myself up for an emotional perfect storm of sorts, but my goodness, it was about all I could take. I’m usually a sucker for the tearjerker, but even though it was a good movie I told Theodore when we got home that I kind of wish I had never seen it.

To top it off Peter decided to measure himself when we got home. He’s now two inches taller than I am. The shoes we bought two months ago are too small. He used to just eat triple cheeseburgers. Now he finishes the triple cheeseburger and then finishes the food on the rest of our plates.

It was enough to make me spend the rest of the night clinging to Peter’s old G.I. Joe dolls while looking at baby pictures. I was tempted to hum a few bars of “Sunrise, Sunset,” but I didn’t want to seem melodramatic.

It’s going too fast. I see people with toddlers and I suddenly want a do-over. We never got around to finger painting. It always seemed like a good thing to put off until tomorrow.

But tomorrow? I don’t want to think about tomorrow. All his future plans seem to involve Dangerous Things That Go Fast. I haven’t asked, but I don’t think the Air Force lets you bring your mother with you.

Breathe in, breathe out. Enjoy today. Enjoy tomorrow. Because it’s going really, really quickly.

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Mother of Boys

July 14, 2008 in Motherhood with Comments Off

Have I mentioned that I grew up in a family of all girls?

I don’t think any of us were excessively prissy (Grandma and Grandpa had a farm), but we were a family of all girls, and it showed.

We had plenty of Barbies and dolls around. We had drawers full of hair barrettes and ribbons and bows. We were interested in things like nail polish. The only thing we owned that could remotely be considered sports equipment were a couple of pogo sticks and a hula hoop.

We did not EVER get up early on a summer morning to attend a fishing tournament. I don’t believe our mother ever sat over her morning coffee and wondered if fishing tournaments have rules against lures, and if she is therefore going to have to figure out how to tie on a hook. And get bait. All before eight o’clock. And just basically wonder how in the world a fishing tournament works. Is it a race? Is there a time clock? Is there some sort of parents’ lounge where they give free pedicures? (Hope springs eternal.)

Just so you know.

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The Accidental Herpetologist

June 9, 2008 in homeschooling, Motherhood with Comments Off

Early this spring, a pair of robins built a nest on the horizontal piece of the gutter along the side of our chimney. I didn’t discover the nest until a few days before the babies flew the coop, but I anticipated another brood in the same nest sometime this summer.

So yesterday, when I noticed Mama and Papa bird raising a ruckus in the vicinity of the nest, I went to see what was going on.

Mama and Papa bird were raising a ruckus because a black snake was coiled up in their nest eating their newly hatched young.

Ew.

I’ve said it before here: I don’t like snakes. But my brother-in-law, who tends to know these things, has assured Theodore that black snakes will keep copperheads away. In a perfect world, I would pick no snakes at all, but if my choice is between a poisonous copperhead, and a harmless black snake, I’ll go with black snake.

Our first black snake sighting was the second summer in this house. Theodore pulled our push mower out of the shed only to realize a large black snake was coiled up underneath the mower. He then had to go in and lie down. Since then I’ve spotted them here and there. A child will occasionally bring me a snake skin, which is lots of fun.

The good news is that I never see mice. As much as I don’t like snakes, they tend to stay outside. Although I know two people who have walked into their bathrooms to find a black snake coiled up on the back of their toilet — *shudder* — I reason that they are keeping mice away.

But I was faced with a quandary. Does the homeschool mom go inside to get her children and turn this into a live nature lesson, or does she go back inside and breathe into a paper bag?

A few years ago, I tried the live nature lesson. We had a large garden spider building a web outside our bathroom window. I called the children in to watch. They were mesmerized. Then one of the children had spider nightmares for a week and now has a full blown spider phobia.

As I watched the disturbing scene, my mind was made up. My oldest son, who sometimes reads the blog, is going to be very upset with me if he finds out, but I walked right back inside. I have a child who has nightmares about spiders. I have another child who has nightmares about being chased by bees or wasps. I don’t need anyone to start having snake dreams.

Late last night, I went outside to move bikes out of the driveway and close the garage. As I stood in the open garage, in the dark, barefoot, I remembered the snake. And I cringed. I don’t think my feet touched the ground as I hot-footed it in the house and slammed the door.

I think I’m going to be the one who has nightmares.

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Your Best Whites Now

May 13, 2008 in Motherhood with Comments Off

OK, so when I put the size small baseball pants into storage five years ago, I knew that they had grass stains at the knees.

I also, at that time, had a one-year-old son.

And although I didn’t know for sure, I certainly expected said one-year-old to play baseball, too.

And I certainly intended for him to wear the same baseball pants, otherwise I wouldn’t have put them in storage. I also know that I tend to wait until the last minute to find these things.

I’m certainly no laundry genius, but I am aware that five years in storage isn’t going to make the stain any easier to deal with.

But here we are. Bleaching baseball pants.

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Speak Softly and Carry the Dachshund

February 1, 2008 in Motherhood with Comments Off

We woke up this morning to this:

Lovely, no? We only get one or two snows a year, so I was a little excited about the snow.

But I also have a short memory. Because when you share a home with a long-haired dachshund, the snow means this:

I know you can’t tell from the picture, but those are balls of snow clinging to his fur. The dog is covered in big balls of snow. Trust me on this. The picture is terrible because the dachshund was not interested in sitting for a picture at that particular moment. He really wanted to spread snow all through the house while simultaneously standing at the back door and whining to be back out with the kids.

So while I’m going to the back door every fifteen seconds to help a child put a mitten or hat back on, or to say please put your hat back on, or stop throwing snowballs at the house, or please don’t run into your brother with the sled, or yes, I think that was on purpose, actually, or for goodness sake will you please get off the roof of the shed, the dachshund gets to run all through the house and leave globs of snow lying about.

I know the picture doesn’t make it look there’s that much snow, but there’s a lot. If taking a better picture didn’t involve getting up and getting the camera again, I’d take a better picture. And no, that’s not dirt on my couch. Those are wet spots from the snow.

To increase the fun, every time a child opens the door and I don’t happen to be in the room, the dachshund makes an escape. Which means we get to start the process all over again.

Update: I think it’s going to be a long day:

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Because nothing stimulates deep thinking like reflecting on bad television

January 28, 2008 in Motherhood with Comments Off

For the past day or so, Big Mama has been writing about how the writers’ strike has affected her TV viewing. This triggered some pithy reflections on Beverly Hills, 90210.

I never watched 90210 faithfully. I was in college when the series began, and since the one and only dorm at my college was by necessity co-ed, the TV was ruled by guys watching sports.

But when Camellia was an infant and Peter was two, 90210 reruns were on during nap time. I would put them to bed and hurry downstairs to watch TV. Because when you’ve spent the day with an infant and a two-year-old, 90210 SEEMS intellectually stimulating. I watched it every afternoon.

Then one day something happened. I was on the couch, Diet Coke beside me. Jim and Cindy had decided that Brenda should not be dating Dylan anymore. Dylan and Brenda decided that a love like theirs must never be thwarted.

So they ran away to Mexico.

I was riveted. What was going to happen? I waited anxiously for Jim and Cindy’s reaction. What does one do when one’s daughter runs away to Mexico with her boyfriend?

Well, if you’re Jim and Cindy Walsh, you determine that your daughter’s running away to Mexico demonstrates that her love for Dylan was real and that you as parents had been too harsh by forbidding her to see him. Because surely she wouldn’t have had to run away to Mexico if they hadn’t been so unreasonable.

I thought of my infant daughter sleeping upstairs. What would I do if she ran away to Mexico? I hope that by the grace of God I never have to find out. But I don’t think it would involve Theodore putting his arm around the boyfriend and apologizing to him for standing in the way of true love.

I had become a parent.

People told me this would happen. I remember when I was in high school relaying a story to one of my brothers-in-law. If I remember correctly, I felt my friend’s mom had overreacted because the friend had driven off and left his twelve-year-old brother a mile out of town. It seemed perfectly logical to me that this had went down in the manner it did. It was the twelve-year-old who had became angry and gotten out of the car in the first place. And anyway, our town was really small. Being abandoned a mile out of town only meant that the twelve-year-old had only had a two mile walk home. Why did the mother need to get angry over that?

My brother-in-law assured me that someday I would see the situation quite differently. I remember thinking that he was crazy. But since I believed that Milli Vanilli would be an enduring musical talent, I think it’s safe to say that I didn’t know what I was talking about. I also slept every night in a bedroom with wallpaper in a splatter-paint pattern. I had a long way to go.

My pride will not allow me to name which brother-in-law I’m referring to. Since I was the champion of inane, immature statements at fifteen, I doubt the brother-in-law who starred in this particular conversation will recall it. But he was right. As much as it pains me to admit it, he was right.

I have become a parent. The mind boggles.

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