If I could tell a fellow mommy one thing it would be that she has permission to mother her child(ren) the way she knows best. So often we get caught up in what other people think or in doing this mother thing perfectly that we forget we are called to be the mother to our kids.
Motherly intuition is regularly questioned, but it really is one of the greatest gifts and tools we have as mommies. It isn’t always right, like that time I was SURE my daughter had worms in her poop and needed to be seen ASAP. (Turns out that bananas can leave worm-like pieces in said poop.) But listening to our intuition can even be life-saving!
As mothers, we love our children so much that mothering them can feel like we are just asking for failure at every turn, or that we may somehow mess our kids up… forever!
We all lose our tempers, or, in hindsight, learn a different choice would have been better, but we learn, grow, and parent with the tools and insight we have now. We will make mistakes, but even that is a good lesson to our children.
I like to ask my mommy friends for their advice on many topics, but I always go back to what my gut is saying and what I think is right for my family. I have learned to give myself permission to mother my children!
What about the advice of well-meaning family and friends who may take it personally if you don’t follow it? Here are three things you can do:
If you haven't yet given yourself full permission to mother as you think is best, then don't wait to start! Maybe you need to go slow and enlist an encouraging friend to help keep you on track, or maybe you are ready to take the reigns immediately. As you go through your day making a million decisions for yourself and your family, remember that you have permission to mother. You make those decisions with confidence, momma! (And if you are in a place where you need help, guidance, or advice from others, I’m sure you will find, as I have, that you’ll get plenty if you ask- and then some!)
Special thanks to Natalie Sabransky for the use of her comic. More can be found at http://www.mamailustrada.com.
Do you ever feel like house cleaning is a perpetual catch-up game and the other team is cheating? Boy-howdy, yes. Very seldom are the downstairs and upstairs of my apartment clean simultaneously. And let’s be real, these days they're rarely clean individually. As I type this, there’s laundry waiting to go back upstairs, a variety of papers heaped on my table, floors that probably don’t remember what a mop is, and toys scattered every few feet. Oh, and last night’s dinner (which flopped) is still on the stove. On top of that, I definitely missed the whole spring cleaning thing this year. Between the flu, finals, and family in town for my little sister’s graduation, summer appeared and things like window tracks remain untouched. On occasions like this, my husband and I get up in the morning, blearily survey the mess, and ask what the house elf is doing with all his time.
Well, we’re halfway through June and I’m done waiting for the house elf to magically appear. I’ve put together a chore chart for myself and I’m really excited to start on it. I’m so thankful for God’s abundant grace in things like chores. It’s often the little things that overwhelm me most. If I’m not on my guard, I can get pretty waspish. The dishes take three hours because someone needs a change, a friend needs a listening ear, my little girl just needs some Mama time. Any of these things can throw me into a funk. But God is teaching me that I have to hold everything with an open hand, even cleaning my house.
I’m floored when I look at the Proverbs 31 woman. She’s amazing. She stays up late, wakes up early, feeds her family, trains her children, invests in real estate, runs a vineyard, AND does it all with the law of kindness on her tongue. Talk about being humbled and inspired.
So here’s a baby step: my cleaning schedule. I know I’ll be adjusting as I go and that, some days, stuff just won’t get done, but I can’t wait to jump in!
Daily Chores MORNING -Make beds- AFTERNOON -Dry/fold laundry- AFTER DINNER -Pick up toys- |
Weekly Schedule
Monday
-Catch-up day-
Tuesday
-Scrub floors-
-Vacuum-
Wednesday
-Pick two extras*-
Thursday
-Dust-
-Scrub bathrooms-
Friday
-Wash bedclothes-
-Vacuum-
*Extras: wash windows, sweep front walk and back porch, clean dishwasher, clean out fridge, vacuum furniture, organize cabinets, organize toys, organize closet
|
How much trouble can an unattended two-and-a-half-year-old and a not-yet-crawling nine-month old get into in 45 seconds? Surely not much, I thought to myself. I dashed up the stairs, leaving my kiddos in the living room alone. I had 15 minutes before my husband got home and we had dinner reservations 10 minutes after that. Before he arrived I still needed to get my kids’ dinner on the table, put them in pajamas before the sitter got there, nurse my son, and make sure all bed-time accoutrements were in place. And I was determined to touch up my toenail polish.
I am in awe of the mothers who can keep their nails immaculately manicured. Seriously, how do they have time for it? That said, I rarely paint my toenails. When I do get around to it, I tend to let it come off the good ol’ fashioned way (i.e. letting it chip off or grow out.). I know, gross. But it’s one of those things I only notice when I’m getting ready to walk out the door. Of course, then it’s too late to do anything about it. But that day we were going on a date and spring had finally arrived on the Palouse. And it was my birthday, darn it, so I was going to have pretty toenails.
So there I was, foot up on the chair in my bedroom, dabbing on the red polish. 10 seconds ticked by. 20 seconds, and then,
“MAAAAMA!” from down stairs.
She’s fine. She’s fine. She just noticed I’m gone, that’s all. I hurried up, switching feet. Almost done. Almost…
“MAAAAMA! I’ve got the knife!”
KNIFE?!! What knife? She must have gotten into the ‘no box.’ “Evelyn, put the knife on the table,” I called down as I hurriedly twisted the lid back on the nail polish, last two toes still untouched.
Evie called back to me, “I’ll bring it to you, Mama!”
“No! Put it on the table, baby. Right now!” I listened and heard the quick pitter-patter of little toddler feet, a split second of silence, and,
“I gave it to brother!”
“WHAT?!” I yelled, dropping the nail polish. I jumped for the door and was down the stairs in about 1.3 seconds.
Evie stood in the middle of our grey rug smiling innocently at me. “I gave the knife to brother, Mama.” She pointed at her brother. James sat there, contentedly gnawing and drooling on a securely closed Swiss army knife. I laughed with relief and took away the knife. Then Evs and I had a chat about how knives and babies don’t mix. I never did get ‘round to those last two toes.
In the last part of the Growing in Grace series, we will look at grace for your current season.
I do not make children who sleep. In fact, they thwart my attempts at good mothering at every opportunity. Want me to sleep? Not today mom! Oh, you wanted me to eat food? I’ll just throw that on the floor you just cleaned. Can I get a witness?
Cleaning up endless messes, getting spit up on, helping my pre-teen navigate friendships and crushes…this is the season I am in. In a blink of an eye I will be in the season of teenage years. The biggest thing I have learned as a mom is that the days are long, but the years are short. I know that seasons change.
My husband and I were married one week from the day I graduated college. We entered that sweet first season, the honeymoon period. The first two years were spent just the two of us. Changing jobs, moving, adding three kids, vacations, hard times, and lots of day-to-day life... it is easy to forget where we came from. It's easy to take what we have for granted. We certainly have had our great times in these last 13 years, but it has also come with hard seasons. Thankfully, even in our marriage, seasons change.
When I had my first child I had to work full-time as a teacher. It was heart breaking to send him to daycare at just five weeks old. I spent the next five years teaching in public school, and my son went to daycare. There were periods of time I wanted nothing more than being home with him. As I sit here typing this, I am with my three kids at home, and we have just wrapped up our first year of homeschooling. Seasons change.
Does it seem like there are more seasons of challenge and change in your life? I don’t know if the old saying, “Time flies when you are having fun,” applies to those easy and fun seasons, or if they are just fewer and farther between. But I wouldn’t trade those challenging seasons because the hard seasons bear much fruit. I grow. But growing pains are real.
Maybe you are in a season of waiting, of dreaming, of planning. Maybe you are in a season of change or of being still. Whatever season you find yourself in right now, I want to encourage you to find grace- grace for yourself, grace for others, and just grace to be where you are. Honor your growing pains, live in the moment, and also allow yourself to dream about future seasons. As the song goes, “It’s not too late.”
Unfortunately, I overbooked us last week and we didn’t get around to Evie’s favorite Friday event: the farm. Honestly, I love it as much as she does. Our friend Charlene currently has about 10 baby goats. Both my children get such a kick from petting them and watching them caper around. We get our milk weekly from her and one time she invited us in to help her bottle feed some newborn kids. Of course, I jumped at the opportunity. Who doesn’t want to feed baby goats?!
I got Evie and James out of the car and we walked with Charlene through their garage and into their little mudroom. The majority of the space was consumed by a large, wooden pen. I peaked my head in and gasped. Inside were the tiniest, cutest, brown and black goats I had ever seen in my life. They bleated when they heard Charlene’s voice and I hurriedly picked Evelyn up so she could take a look.
Charlene filled a bottle and then let Evie help feed the babies. I was so proud of my Evs! She had never been around farm animals before, but she took to it like a duck to water. She held the bottle so still and gently patted the wiggly little creature as it guzzled down the milk. I immediately offered Charlene our assistance around the farm on Fridays. I knew we couldn’t do too much for her, but I thought if I at least swept out the barn, I could pay her back for all the time we get to spend petting the goats. (I have a not-so-secret desire to have a small farm one day… still trying to convince my husband on chickens, though.) Evelyn is a regular little farm girl, now. As soon as she clambers out of the car, she marches into their garage, finds the egg baskets, and leads me down to the barn to collect eggs.
Speaking of eggs, that is Evie’s second favorite thing to do at the farm: collect the duck and chicken eggs. She fearlessly wades through bobbing and darting foul, bucket in hand. She is barely taller than the roosters. The second time we were in there she learned quickly that the roosters do not like to be touched. I was trying to scooch an ornery brooder off her hoard of warm eggs when I heard a frightened, “Mama! Mama! No!” behind me. I spun ‘round to see one of the roosters jump up and kick Evie square in the chest. I ran over and whacked it with my basket and picked up my girl. She was scared and I thought that would be the end of egg-gathering for her, but she bravely persevered. Now, whenever we go collect eggs, she makes sure to remind me that the roosters do not want to be petted.
So now, if I ever mention “Friday” in front of Evie, she immediately breaks out in a grin, sidles up conspiratorially and whispers, “We goin’ to see the baby goats today!” Her whole face lights up and she dances around the house to help me locate her socks and rain boots. Sometimes, when we can’t go see the baby goats, I have to watch her little balloon of happiness deflate in front of me. It’s the saddest. She is a brave soul and rallies quickly, but I almost feel like I’ve taken away Christmas when we can’t make it out to the farm. So, like a good mother, I now completely avoid the word “Friday” if I know that we can’t make it out there one week.
In part two of three in my "Growing in Grace" series, we find ways to learn how to give grace to other people.
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How many times a day do you find yourself encountering opposition, misunderstanding, defiance, differing opinions, etc.? As a wife and mother these are sometimes minute-by-minute occurrences. There are times when my children are given discipline, when my husband and I need to have a crucial conversation, or when I need to step back from a friendship for a while. But, when I can, I like to be able to give others grace. I realize more and more each day that I need that same grace given to me! I mean, who has it all together all of the time? Not me!
Here are four ways to learn to give grace to others:
There are so many stories of grace from people in my life. The first, and foremost, is the grace I receive from my heavenly Father. But He has revealed other times to me, too:
The older gentleman who spoke gently to my screaming toddler in the store yesterday, smiled at me and reminded me that one day she will grow out of it… The other night when my husband hugged me and loved on me even after I hurt his feelings… When my oldest said he forgave me for getting angry and yelling… When I realized a friend who said something hurtful to me was in a very hard, dark place… I can see that grace opportunities abound. And I write these on the inner parts of my heart to reflect on often.
What stories do you have to share?
Hey there! I’m so excited to introduce my little family to you! A little about me: My name is Tricia. I’m 25 years old, a Navy brat, wife of James, mother to Evelyn and James (the second, not junior), a former ballerina, current foodie, Latin nerd, rock climber, and part-time student. We live in Moscow (It’s pronounced like coe – this isn’t Russia.), which is way up in the skinny part of Idaho, nestled amongst beautiful rolling hills. If you thought Idaho was all potatoes, you should find a photo of the Palouse. It’s pretty spectacular.
James and I met in college. He is the youngest of three kids and only boy. He currently works as the Director of Client Services at an economic modeling company here in Moscow. Really, the most I know about his job is that he gets to fly to places like New York, North Carolina and Maryland to wine and dine his customers. He’s great about snapping photos of each course of his dinner and sending them to me while I eat chicken nuggets with the kiddos (‘Cause if dada’s out of town, why cook? Am I right?). He and I both have an affinity for yummy food so I always love getting the photos.
My Evs is a joy and bursts with fun and energy every day. She’s two-and-a-half years old and has been go, go, go, since she was about 7 months. As soon as she learned to crawl she began scaling the furniture in our little, two-bedroom apartment. I would emerge from our minuscule galley kitchen to find her, not on her play mat where I had left her, but perched on the back of our giant arm chair watching the birds and cars go by our window. The same thing still happens only now I come around the corner to find her at the top of our stairs…on the outside of the banister! She currently loves to color, blow bubbles in the park, watch excavators (pronounced “ex-a-vader”), and help feed the kids (baby goats) that some friends of ours have.
Her little brother, James, is now 10 months old and is just starting to move and groove. He started crawling this week and is much happier now that he can get to where he wants to go, which is usually to me. Little man is a pickier eater than his sister ever was. If I let him, I’m sure he’d subsist only on avocados. He loves to say dada, clap, wave goodbye, and play peek-a-boo. Bedtime is not his friend, but he sleeps like a champ once he goes down, for which this mama is very grateful.
I’ve just begun on this journey of motherhood and I’m excited to share the laughter, tears, struggles, lessons, and joy that it brings.