Wait...what? I'm not perfect?

Sometimes I wish our thoughts were made visual for others to see. Of course, overall, I know this would be a terrible idea-to see all the thoughts that others are thinking about you, themselves, and others. But what I would love about this is that I think it would remind us we are all very similar. I think so many of women's thoughts would be put at ease if we knew that most other women had the same thoughts and struggles.  We can be quick to judge someone without knowing they are very much like us.  We all desire to be accepted. We all have insecurities. We all want to matter to someone. We all have pressures from society. It doesn't matter what part of the city you live in.  How much money you make. How intelligent you are. How old or young you are. We all have fundamental similarities.


I too wish my kids' thoughts were visible for me to see and understand. Many times their thoughts come out loudly and unrefined. They didn't get the memo that they are supposed to be perfect.  But because I can't read their thoughts, I'm constantly trying to interpret these outward expressions of something going on inside them. "MOM! She just hit me so I'm not going to be friends with her anymore, ever again!" So what is my little, yet full brained child trying to say to me?  Here's a guess..."Mom, when she hit me I felt sad and like she didn't care about me. I don't want to feel that way again so I'm going to tell her I don't want to be around her."   So it's my job to listen, understand, and then enter their world.  I want to enter into what it might feel like being their age and try to understand their way of seeing things, because chances are they are interpreting their world different than I would.  And after I try (try is the key word here) to help them navigate those thoughts and feelings, I tell them I don't like feeling bad either. I tell them they're not alone. We talk about what they can do with how they feel.  This is not an easy or quick task, but I believe this is one of the ways I can truly love them well.  Once I connect with them emotionally, I can usually redirect their thoughts to some logic.

I think it's easy for us to remember our kids are imperfect, probably because they constantly remind us. So why are we surprised when our husbands or friends aren't perfect? I remember a good friend of mine and I were talking a while back and after sharing some things with her she asked, "Well, you don't expect to be perfect, do you?"  I actually had to think about that for a second. Ya, I think I do. I know I'm not perfect (far from it), but I think I expect perfection. I think I'm often hard on myself and surprised or embarrassed by my mistakes (like my many grammar and spelling errors on this blog). And what can be as equally damaging is when I expect other adults around me to be perfect.

It shouldn't be a surprise that our goal is perfection, or something close to it.  It only takes a few minutes of turning on the television to see how to get a better body, remodel your home, make a delicious dinner, have the best toys for your kids. Message is delivered....be better, do better.  And although that can be suffocating, I think the original desire is good...wanting something that is whole, right, good, pure.   The problem lies when I look to myself or others to fill that desire for me.  My kids will most certainly disappointment me if my expectation is perfection, to be like their siblings, to act like the neighbor kids who seems calmer.  So my expectation, my desire, is to accept them and love them even when they aren't perfect.  To not be surprised when they throw fits and can't control their emotions.  My love for them and acceptance doesn't depend on their behavior, it depends on who they are. And they are mine.

all in a row

This is an old post I found that was in my drafts. Thought I'd go ahead and put it on here....

Mike had to work all day Saturday so it was up to me to get the kids dressed and ready to go to a pool party.  The morning started off rough but I was hoping that by the time we had to leave, all my ducks would be in a row. My ducks never got into anything that resembled a row. My row looked more like kids spreading like wild fire when they see a bubble bee. I asked one of my kids to put on their swim gear and they wouldn't do it, threw a fit instead. Really? You won't put on your swim clothes so that you are able to swim on a hot Florida day, eat cake and ice cream, and play with your friends. (You're right, how dare I make you put your swim gear on so that you have to go to a birthday party.)

Our mind is so intriguing. Even more so, our emotions.  We can ignore, accept, devour, or wallow in how we feel.  I can be thinking about something, and then be thinking about my thinking. I can assess if what I'm thinking is valid, reasonable. I can try to convince someone else that what I'm feeling is appropriate. There is so much power in what we think. In what we feel. It can affect everything.

So why did my little duckling refuse to put her swim gear on?  It obviously didn't make sense if you just look at the facts. And it was obvious she was feeling a lot of emotions.  I had to go back and think about what happened a few seconds prior to the blowout.  She was trying to tell me something and I wasn't listening because I was wrapping the birthday present. Once I realized someone was talking to me (sometimes I can zone out my kids voices) I told her that now wasn't the time to talk but to get her suit on.  I think this little duck was hurt. Her mommy wasn't listening and aware of her presence. Then when I was aware that she was talking, I told her to be quiet and get her suit on. That's when the duck fell to the floor and began quacking, loudly. 

What do I do with this moment, this situation? How do I best care for this specific duck?  (ha, maybe start by not call my children ducks)  Here is where parenting is tough for me!!! I wish I could pull out my manual for "how to parent the 'ugly' duckling," (because I would follow it well) but unfortunately there is no easy answer.  Do I make this about obedience and tell her she should run to the bathroom to put her suit on? Or do I give her a hug and tell her I'm sorry I didn't drop everything to listen to her?  Do I leave her to quack alone or do I embrace her? There is no 'right' answer. I have the freedom to think  about what's best for her at that time in that situation and do the best I can.  Each one of my ducks are unique just as each situation is new.  Each situation with my kids is like pulling out a jelly bean from the bag, you never know what you'll get.

I am amazed by how complex my kids minds and hearts are.  Goodness, I'm so complex too.  There are so many components to who we are. There are many pages to each of our stories.  I really think it is a miracle that we can have healthy (whatever healthy means) relationship with anyone at all because of this.  How can so many emotions be wrapped up in such a small little body?   My kids remind me that we are full of emotions all the time. We don't always make sense. We aren't always logical. We think, feel, respond.  And that is ok. I don't want my ducklings to always be in a quiet, straight line (well, I kinda do). I want them to squawk, lean a little to the right or left, be unique, be themselves. My goal now might be to get them in a line behind me.  But one day, I hope they make their own lines with their own little ducklings following them.  Their line may be loud, quiet, full of logic or emotions, organized or a mess...but whatever it is, they will always be my ducklings.

What happens when your babies aren't babies anymore

You know how life is always changing and sometimes we forget to take a moment to look back at what's behind us. I’m in this weird (at least it’s weird for me) transition.  For so long my life consisted of desperate prayers to sleep through the night, nursing, making baby food, nursing again, packing the diaper bag, and trying to get poop stains out of clothes. When Stephen was born, Nathan was only 3 ½ and Grace was 19 months.  My world felt very small. Get sleep, feed the babies, throw some laundry in the washer, get the babies on the same sleep schedule, survive….oh, and have somewhat of a social life in there to keep me sane. At times I was exhausted from thinking through the ‘right’ choices for my kids. Everything was new. I don’t donew and unknown very well.  Don’t get me wrong, I loved this season in my life. I miss this time in my life.  I loved having small kids! I love babies. I loved watching all their milestones and finding out what their little personalities were like. I loved getting compliments and glances of how cute they were out in public. In fact, I think I would have a few more babies (minus the pregnancy part).

But life is so different now. It’s like in Willy Wonka when they are on his boat that heads down a dark tunnel and Willy starts singing that creepy song. The boat is moving so fast, so quickly, and you’re not sure how long it’s going to last or what’s on the other side? That’s how I feel looking back at having babies. It was a little scary, yet in reality was a very short period of time, and a little creepy. Just kidding about the creepy part! I felt like this was how my life was going to be for a very long time. (like forever!)   But life is different now.  I have no children in diapers. No children in cribs. No one taking naps (except for me!). Only one is home with me during the day. Two are reading. Three are happy. Life feels so different, easier.  That time of my life when I had tinny ones at home is like a common language to all mothers.  Everyone experiences little sleep, sore bodies, helpless moments, and everybody is talking about it. I see it on Facebook or blogs.  It’s like doing battle together. Once a mom, always a mom. But I don’t find this commonality with moms as much once the kids are a little older. I don’t think it's because that commonality isn't there, but because our worlds have opened up.  Our worlds aren’t so small anymore. The creepy boat ride down Willy Wonka’s chocolate river has ended. 

I know I’m talking as if I’m that teenager who thinks they have now entered adulthood.  My oldest is only 7 (he's still my baby). None of my kids are pre-teens, graduated, or have gotten their drivers licenses.   They aren’t grown and out of the house. I’m still full-on in this parenting thing.  But this is the first time that our family has shifted out of the baby phase and into the school aged phase.  No one really talks about that. 

So what would I say to the mom that is in the boat listening to Willy Wonka sing? I’d say it does end.  There will be a day when everyone is out of diapers and they no longer want to watch Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood (which is a great show by the way). So take heart, the season of sleepless nights and all your babies getting sick and crying will come to an end. One day your one year old will no longer yell with frustration because they know what they want but can't communicate it to you. Your two year old will stop throwing food at the table.  Cherish those little souls. Cherish and look at all the millions of blessing around you each day…The sounds your baby makes when they have a full belly, the look of comfort on their faces, the way your one year old plops down uninhibitedly on your lap. Because it does end. And you can’t go back. It’s a one way ticket. 

What a blessing and joy my kids are to me. I woke up this morning and couldn’t wait to see them. I couldn’t wait to hug them, hear their little boisterous voices, and explore life with them today. What an amazing job motherhood is, raising human beings. I want to cherish, soak in, listen, and to love them well in this new territory we are in even if it feels like a scary, fast, creepy boat ride at times.