Mother's Day 2015

What day is today? 
Today is Mother's Day!
What day is today?
Today is Mother's Day!

Lots of cool points in my book if you know what old TV show that little ditty is from. (Jesse has the twins sing it to Becky on Full House.) And yes, I am aware that it's the week after Mother's Day. I'm a little behind thanks to last week being so hectic, which I'll talk more about in my next post. (I'm sure you're all dying to know.)

I. Love. Mother's Day. 

It's such a fantastic excuse to sit around and do nothing. Isaiah cooks and "cleans" and takes care of all of the kiddos' needs. This Mother's Day, I milked it even more than usual. (Massages from two different kids= win.) 

It kind of got off to a slow start. No breakfast in bed, and Isaiah had already warned me the night before that my present hadn't arrived. I was the first to wake up, so I was lying in bed trying to come up with a witty facebook status first thing in the morning. 

Strike 1: No breakfast in bed.
Strike 2: Present didn't come in the mail. 
3 strikes and you're out, Isaiah Garrett!

Something like that. I was just joking, lest you think I need to go back and take my own advice from my pessimism post. I'd actually rather not eat breakfast in bed, and I'm just pleased he put enough thought into the gift to order it online and not run to Walmart the night before. At any rate, my attention shifted when my little man woke up and wandered into our bedroom. He climbed up and snuggled up next to me, sucking his little bink and twirling my hair. (He likes to do that. <3) 


My girls came in shortly thereafter. They gave a three count and said a giggly "Happy Mother's Day!" together. And of course I got more snuggles. My favorite. They convinced little man to wish me "Happy Mother's Day" as well, but it came out more like, "Happy Mugga Gay!" Even cuter. I got to hear it again when Isaiah was also wished a "Happy Mugga Gay."

That pessimistic almost ten-year-old of mine presented me with a booklet containing the top ten reasons why he loves me. I couldn't help but give a rather boisterous laugh when he informed me of the booklet's back story. "We had to make this. Apparently it was for a grade."

Regardless, he really wrote some sweet things in his book. Number five read, "I love my mom because she is pretty. I like her glasses and short hair. She is also pretty on the inside." He briefly interrupted after I finished reading that one with the clarification, "I couldn't think of anything else to write." Just stop talking, son! :) 

My Boo Boo then took her turn to present her card and gifts to me. She had used her AWANA bucks to get me a pretty cup on store night, and she made a "credit card" with potential purchases including a hug, a massage, and a day of no fighting with her brother. Notice how the cup is blue, my favorite color. She was SO proud of all her gifts, and I gushed over them. She even got her "mom questions" right on the card. Well, not so much the stray kitten one, but I'm especially impressed that she knew to pick New York or Paris as my destination of choice. She is one observant and thoughtful little sweetheart! Isaiah said she had been counting down the days until Mother's Day, which is adorable. 

Just after that, Isaiah discovered that my present had arrived after all, though it was a wee bit damp from spending the night outside. No matter. The kids were just as excited as I was, especially my little man. I'm pretty sure he thought it was for him, as is his usual response to any gift in his vicinity. He helped me tear the box open, but he quickly lost interest when he saw the gift- a lap desk. A week beforehand, I stumbled across a previous google search which read "good gift for a writer," so I knew it was going to be something good. I love practical gifts (no sarcasm intended), and I am currently using said lap desk. 

And of course, what Mother's Day morning is complete without a temper tantrum and a sibling fight? We navigated through the storms fairly quickly, though. I played the "not on Mother's Day" card effectively. 

We were just barely late, which is the equivalent of being on time for us. A bottled coffee and package of trail mix were waiting at the nursery check-in for moms, courtesy of our thoughtful nursery director. Outside the sanctuary, women were given another special treat. Yeah, those Lindt truffles didn't make it halfway through the service. Naturally, the kids made Mother's Day crafts for me during church. I don't always (fine, never) keep church papers, but these ones made the keep pile. I love it when my children are excited about what they made for me.

Isaiah let me choose lunch, and I opted for Chinese takeout. Not the best sesame chicken I've ever had, but we don't eat out often, so I still enjoyed not cooking. Isaiah even ordered enough for me to have my own carton, which is a rare treat indeed, though I still ended up sharing with my little moochers.

The afternoon was filled with a combination of relaxing with my kids on my bed, snuggling, a bit of writing, more snuggling, and playing a couple board games. Awwwww yeah. I lost spectacularly at Would You Rather, but I managed to take one round of Disney Apples to Apples. Even better was the fact that we made it through both games with only one complete meltdown. (From the kids, of course. I save my meltdowns for games of Risk with Isaiah.)

I'm pretty sure everyone's favorite part of game time wasn't actually related to the games. Little man ran into the room with no pants and proceeded to put on a little dance show. I'm not sure why naked butts are so amusing, but they always get my kids giggling. 

We followed up that fun time with the kids' least favorite part of the day. Isaiah made them each choose a room to clean. He always sets a timer for them to make a race out of it. Sometimes it's effective, and sometimes it results in much wailing and gnashing of teeth. 

The final game of the day was hide and seek, which is a family favorite. Unfortunately, little man kept following me around, and he always wants to share hiding spots. I'm too competitive to hide with that loudmouth, so I kept trying to ditch him. I succeeded once, but only with enough time to jump in the closet and hide amongst the clothes. Such an amateur spot. 

Isaiah put the younger three kiddos to bed, after one final "Happy Mugga Gay!" and some hugs. (Of course he puts them to bed almost every night, simply because he is awesome.) After that I talked with my mom on the phone for a little while. Always a good thing. It's not the first time I haven't seen her on Mother's Day, but it stinks nonetheless. At least I get to see her in a few weeks! 

I concluded the evening with my favorite again- snuggles. The boy, as we refer to him affectionately (despite having another boy), has a later bedtime than the other three. We watched Family Feud on the couch together, which always gets us laughing. Steve Harvey is the man. 

All in all, it was a fantastic Mother's Day. Especially in comparison with my first Mother's Day, when poor Isaiah didn't know what a girl wants. What a girl needs. Whatever makes me happy... Oh, sorry. My song lyric Tourette syndrome takes over sometimes. 

Anyway, I'm so grateful for this special day. In addition to the relaxation and fun, for me it's a time of reflection on what it means to be a mom. Mothering is so much more difficult than I thought it would be, and I don't live up to the task like I thought I would. (I was such a better mom before I had kids. "I'm never going to..." Mmmhmmm.) I am not always patient and kind and gentle and consistent and organized. (Just ask my mother-in-law about that last one!) 

There are some areas of our home life that are thriving, some that need more consistency, and some that just need a complete overhaul. I think it's essential to identify these areas and make the necessary changes, even if they come slowly. Every day is a gift, and every day is a clean slate. 

God makes me capable. As long as I keep abiding in Him, I keep growing and learning. These kids are mine for a reason, and I trust the God who knit them together inside of me. The task often seems overwhelming, but He can give me the insane amount of wisdom this job requires. In the mean time, I'm going to do my best to enjoy the ride. (And did I mention the snuggles?)

Age order starts at the top right and moves counter-clockwise. Clearly I didn't think through my placement.

 

The Pessimist Mom

I used to be super pessimistic, but I'd like to think I'm more of a healthy realist these days. According to an online quiz I am. 

Realist

You don`t let things get you too down, or too up. You`re an Even Steven and you stay away from extremes.

Booyah. That settles it, right? Unfortunately, the next test pegged me as a downer.

Your total is 61. You qualify as a defensive pessimist in my studies.

Well, rats. On the upside, that second quiz was more academic, and they had this to say about defensive pessimism. 

Though it sounds as if it might be depressing, defensive pessimism actually helps anxious people focus away from their emotions so that they can plan and act effectively.

Look at me talking about upsides. I can't be a total pessimist after all. It's a positive thing when I take my focus off my emotions so I can plan effectively and all that jazz that he said.

I started thinking about all this because our pastor mentioned pessimism in his sermon this week. He said that as a general rule, pessimists are typically not highly successful people. 

As per my usual habit, I have put a great deal of time into over-thinking this statement. See, I honestly can't help it that I'm a natural-born pessimist. I score a hands-down melancholy on every temperament test I ever take. Basically, I'm Eeyore. And so, I was curious to know if I am indeed forever doomed to a life of mediocrity. 

Fortunately, there actually are some pretty famous pessimists, especially in the artistic fields. Beethoven, Hillary Clinton, Vincent van Gogh, and Bill Gates all fall into the melancholy category. After a bit of research, I came to the conclusion that neither optimism nor pessimism seem to be the key to success in and of themselves. I think it has more to do with how you handle your God-given temperament. 

If you're too positive, it helps to be friends with a Debbie Downer. They'll be sure to point out the flaws you're overlooking. If you're too negative, a good friend might be a Positive Paula. (Hey, I had to have something comparable to Debbie Downer, and apparently alliteration is only used to criticize.) They will encourage you not to give up just because something isn't going your way.

At any rate, I'm just glad that I am not predestined to a life of failure. In my pastor's defense, he was referring to those pessimists who don't fight their natural inclinations and allow negative thinking to rule their lives.

I'm not entirely certain about this, but I think my first-born son is the melancholy type as well. He is introspective, moody, sensitive, and quick to point out the negative. He gets discouraged easily, complains often, and gives up unnecessarily. Poor guy seems to have a double portion of my pessimism. 

He started in on one of his tirades after church on Sunday, and I gave him a hard time about what our pastor said. (It is so hard to be patient when he's complaining about petty issues.) He proceeded to get even angrier and walk off in a huff. I responded with a sarcastic comment of some sort. Not one of my better parenting moments. I probably should take the beam out of my eye. 

How often do I say to myself, "Why do I even bother?" Those five words are like pessimism in a nutshell. 

Here are some subjects that currently evoke that phrase in my life: keeping up with the housework, asking my kids to stop yelling "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!", expecting my kids to do their chores without being told, seeking just a half hour of complete silence, traveling anywhere at all without the kids arguing, and encouraging my husband to talk about feelings with me.

Ironically, one of the subjects I've been most pessimistic about lately is my son's attitude. I swear this almost ten-year-old acts like a true blue teenager. My once constantly sweet little man erupts at the slightest provocation. Once he loses control, he can't seem to gain it back without spending an hour alone to collect himself. He can be rude and condescending to his siblings and argues with Isaiah and I on a regular basis.

Told you I was feeling pessimistic, because I do not see any end to his behavior on the horizon. If anything, it continues to get worse. I have no doubt that our uprooting him twice in the past year has contributed to the problem, but I think it's more than that. I'm willing to bet that my own parenting is a large part of the problem, and that's not just my negativity talking.

Normally I like to write about subjects in which I'm at least putting up a good fight, even if I'm not victorious. But today, this Negative Nellie (told you) has no helpful tips. I'm not even exactly sure why I chose to write about it except that I've been trying hard to write about where I'm at, if that makes sense.

So here's where I'm at.

I know that I need to be more positive around my son, and the rest of my kids for that matter. My exasperated sighs, constant verbalizations of how messy the house is, eye rolls when they complain about something ridiculous, and rudely sarcastic responses to their faulty logic need one big giant nip in the bud. I know I won't ever be perfect, but I also know God can help me have victory here. (There's that realist shining through.)

Not only do I need to stop those habits, but I need to replace them with better choices. I need to compliment my kids' positives daily, speak firmly but patiently, use humor to diffuse all of our tempers, and point out all the beauty in this world God created. They need to know that I'm not just a Whiny Wendy. (That one was for you, Mom.) Seriously, though, I don't want their most pervasive childhood memory of me to be my criticism of them. 

I also need to take the time to find out what's going on in their little minds. Each of my kids needs my attention, discipline, and affection in different ways, and it's my job to find out what those ways are and keep up with how they're changing as they grow.

I feel like I used to be pretty good at some of those things, and I'm not sure what happened. I guess I got too busy and settled for less. I lost my focus. I'm tired and discouraged and I could make lots more excuses, but those excuses have got to stop.

My kids are watching me. They're learning from me, regardless of how poorly I'm teaching. Just because I'm a pessimist, doesn't mean I have to give up. It just means I can't do this thing alone. God is strong in my weakness. He has helped me push through this before, and He will be faithful to do it again.

That's not even blind optimism, folks. It's just the truth.

That kid really pushes my buttons

Monday was my sassy little spitfire’s sixth birthday. Birthdays have a way of making me slow down and take time to reflect on my kids’ lives. (Which I also do at other times. Stop being so quick to judge! Sheesh.) 

I have so many special memories with that girl. I still remember the first night she was born. I had the hardest time falling asleep that night, despite the fact that she slept pretty peacefully, as far as newborns go. I kept crawling down to the foot of the bed where she was sleeping in her rolling hospital bassinet. Her beautiful little face was just begging to be gazed upon one more time. I was smitten by her. I still am.

Ok now you can judge me, though, because in truth one of my main reflections on Monday was about just how often that pretty girl pushes my buttons. She really knows how to get under my skin, and she purposely or inadvertently does so on a regular basis. She’s a smart little booger, I’ll give her that.

One of my favorite examples of this was the time we ate breakfast together as a family at a pancake house. Truth be told, we only went there because we took too long getting ready and missed McDonald’s breakfast hours. Nevertheless, we decided it would be a special treat to eat at a sit down restaurant, so I was certain my kids would be grateful for the privilege. Ha. The conversation that followed between my daughter and I went a little something like this…

“Why aren’t we eating at McDonald’s? You SAID we were going to get pancakes at McDonald’s.”

“We took too long getting ready. This is a pancake house. You can get pancakes here. They’re even better than McDonald’s. Stop complaining.”

“But I wanted pancakes from McDonald’s. I’m not going to eat anything here.”

“Fine! Then you can watch all of us eat pancakes in front of you!”

*A peaceful thirty seconds passes by*

“Mommy, are you going to get pancakes?”

“No, I’ll probably get bacon and eggs.”

“Well, then you won’t ALL be eating pancakes in front of me.”

Burn…

If I demonstrate any sort of flaw or inconsistency, this girl jumps on the chance to point it out. She also loves to argue, as she unfortunately comes from a long line of arguers. It doesn’t matter what the truth is, only what her opinion is. She’s currently in a time out for not dropping an argument. She just pushes and pushes and pushes! 

(And now as I sit down to write this again, she has accused me of only ever making foods that I like for dinner and insisting that she wasn’t pushing the keyboard numbers that she was running her fingers along when I asked her to stop, both within ten seconds of each other. Prime examples of my fault-finding girl’s behavior.)

Sometimes I like to stick it to her. I want to prove that I’m right, and she’s wrong. Especially if the argument is easily winnable. (E.g. She accused me of forgetting to buy more cereal, when I actually remembered.) It’s pretty satisfying in the moment to gloat and lecture. (Or to slam that cereal box down in front of her! Booyah!) Not so satisfying when I think about what lesson I was teaching her later.

This is just one of those battles that I lose much too often! I keep telling myself to be more patient the next time around. She’s learning from me. She’s watching my every move. (I know this, because she reminds me constantly.) Her choices are still her responsibility, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s my responsibility to teach her. Everything I do teaches her a lesson, be it good or bad. She’s my gift from God, and I want to take care of her as such.

There’s a better way to teach my girl how to avoid pointless arguments than by participating in the arguing myself. There’s a better way to show her that she doesn’t always need to be right than to try and always be right myself. There’s a better way to teach her to control her temper than to quickly lose mine. There’s a better way to teach her to stop continually criticizing everyone than for me to continually criticize her behavior. 

My mind jumps to the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22-23, especially the patience, kindness, gentleness, and self-control. My list often seems to more closely resemble quick-temperedness, rudeness, sarcasm, and agitation. 

The subsequent three verses are also fitting for this discussion. “Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.”

Burn again, but at least it makes me stop and think about what my problem is. So to break it down verse by verse…

“Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” That prideful, hot-headed flesh of mine has been nailed to the cross. It fights to be revived, but I don’t have to live like that. I don’t have to keep making the same mistakes. I love this phrase from Philippians 3:13, “forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead.” Mistakes have been made, and now it’s time to move on. 

 I also love the lyrics from “Before the Throne of God Above.” (If you want to listen to it...)

When Satan tempts me to despair

And tells me of the guilt within

Upward I look and see Him there

Who made an end of all my sin

Burn again, but this time totally in my favor. No need for despair. This is a battle I can win!!

“Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.” Truth be told, I haven’t been very faithful to keep in step with the Spirit as of late. Ironically enough, Little Miss Argument is the child who most often stays in step with me, and I mean that literally. Two of my kids are always lagging behind, and my youngest is always running up ahead, both of which can be irritating or even dangerous. The closer they are to me, the better I can protect them, and the better they can hear my instructions. They’re less likely to get into trouble, and even if they do, I’m right there to help. (So many lessons about God can be learned from parenting.)

 I seem to go in cycles when it comes to keeping in step with the Spirit. Faithfully reading the Scripture and praying turns into sporadic reading and distracted praying. The things I want to do, I don’t do. But I can do them. Once again, I can put my past behind me and press on. I need to be close to God, so I can naturally develop these fruits of the Spirit. When I abide in Him, He abides in me.

“Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.” This probably sounds judgmental, but I’m including myself when I say that I think a lot of parents struggle with pride when it comes to their kids. I shouldn’t back down from every argument that my little antagonist offers, but the opposite is also true. I shouldn’t immediately silence her and assume that I’m right, either. I want her to ask questions. I want her to know why she has to obey. My rules, and God’s rules, are for her protection. She needs to know this. And sometimes, she really is right.

That brings me to the provoking part of this verse. Even though she’s sometimes right, she usually has a terrible attitude, which also makes her wrong. And truthfully, my attitude often makes me wrong when I’m right. I’m constantly provoking her, just like she’s constantly provoking me. Not good. This verse is speaking to the general population, but twice in the New Testament the instruction comes specifically to parents- do not provoke your children. God knew we’d need to hear it. We’re quick to spout off “Children, obey your parents,” but are we just as quick to remember the verse to parents that comes next? I’m sure not.   

One way I personally need to work on combating this problem is by verbalizing the positives about my daughter. She constantly hears correction, and needs it, but she also needs to hear what she's doing right. Kids need to be praised by their parents. Not about every little thing, especially since this smart girl knows when I'm being disingenuous. She does need to have something to strive for, though. God rejoices over me and constantly reassures me of my worth, and I need to pass that along to her as well. 

Parenting, just like so very many other issues, is a matter of the heart. My heart has got to be in the right place when I correct my belligerent beauty. Without love, I’m just a clanging cymbal. Even with love, she probably thinks I sound like a clanging cymbal, but at least I know I’m giving it my all. At least I know I’m demonstrating the kind of patience, gentleness, and kindness that my heavenly Father has mercifully given to me.

I want all of my children to know how the power of the Spirit can transform my attitude, because they need to know how it can transform theirs. They need to know all this God talk isn’t just talk. When they get older and move into that stage when they question all they were ever taught, I want them to have something to fall back on. More than anyone else I’ll come into contact with, I want my children to see Christ in me. I want to be able to say to them in all honesty, “Imitate me, as I also imitate Christ.”