I'm Tired.

I'm tired. I am tired of my uncooperative back. I'm tired of not being able to walk normally or stand up without wincing. I am tired of tantrums and complaints. I am tired of little boys peeing on the couch. I'm tired of looking at our gross, dirty green carpet. I'm tired of not being able to vacuum it.

I'm tired of our two-day rotation of oatmeal and cereal, or our three-day rotation of ham and swiss, grilled cheese, and peanut butter and jelly. I'm tired of looking in the pantry, desperate for some new dinner ideas, and not coming up with much. I'm tired of eating chicken.

I'm tired of constantly feeling behind with the organic and whole foods trend. It seems like I can never measure up in this strange new world of juicing and carrot and spinach shakes. I mean, who wants to drink a spinach shake? I prefer chocolate. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not giving my kids the very best because I still give them goldfish crackers for a snack. I'm tired of comparing myself with others. 

But most of all, I'm tired of being tired.

I wish that I had boundless energy, this crazy excitement about mom-life that just comes gushing out of me every which way. I wish that I had never-ending patience and a constant smile and all the answers to domestic bliss.

I don't have those things.

But I do have a four year old little girl who stood next to me at the sliding glass door today.

“You're sad, mom.”

“Yeah, I'm a little sad.”

“Why are you sad?”

It kind of jolted me, her question. It made me realize that it's not just about me. When I'm upset, they see it. They understand. They're old enough to start connecting some dots.

And I don't want them to grow up thinking that I'm tired of them.

Because, the truth is, all the stuff that comes with being a mom (or dad) is hard. It's a lot of work. There are easy days and not-so-easy days. There are fun times and not-so-fun times. But the truth is, I really like my life.

And I'm tired, but I'm not tired of them.

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The Things That I Want and The Things That I Have

Today Daniel had five accidents. Five.

Two of them happened in a row as we were walking out the door to go to Silas's check up at the doctor. We were already late.

I couldn't understand why he didn't just go to the bathroom. Why? After I got him in front of the potty, I had to stand in another room while he finished up. I was very close. To losing it.

And I am exhausted. I am so tired. I can't keep my eyes open and I don't know why I'm still awake. Except that there's something kind of therapeutic in just typing out my thoughts, stream of consciousness style.

So, here goes.

Today was so hard that I am glad to see it's over. The kids are in bed. I think they're asleep. I need a break. A real break, not just a pop into the nearest book store kind of break, but the kind where it's okay to wake up late and I can go to the bathroom without worrying what the one year old is getting into. The kind where it's a reality that I can just hop on my bike and ride to the nearest coffee shop. And then I can sit there and drink a cup of coffee. Or two. I want time. Some real time to just be. I want freedom. Some real freedom to come and go as I please. With just me and my keys and maybe another cup of coffee. I want to sit on the beach and close my eyes and listen to the sea gulls and kids playing and know that I don't have to keep half an eye (or both eyes all the time) on them.

Those are the things that I want.

But what I have is an office chair and a computer desk and a very worn and very cozy blue blanket on my lap. And I have the sound of the water filter in the turtle tank we just set up this week. That's nice. It's like a water feature and it makes me wonder why we haven't kept fish before. I love the sound. I have a warm house and a warm bed with not one, but two warm blankets. I have flowers and strawberries and new baby radishes coming up in the backyard. We just saw them for the first time today. That was fun. And I have three sleeping children in their beds. And they are good. They are hard. They are maybe the hardest thing I've ever done. But they are so good.

Those are the things that I have.

I suppose, in the end, that's not such a bad list. In fact...I kind of have a lot.  

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Manners (and what I bought at Home Depot)

I am working to teach my kids good manners.

I really am.

But in the mean time.... must they comment on how funny a man's hair looks while he's standing right there? He had dreads, for the record. That happened a week ago at Target. I was embarrassed.

Today we went to Home Depot to buy some new pots and plants. Yay! I love Home Depot. I hated it when I was a kid, but today I could spend hours walking around that store and dreaming.

I digress.

I decided our patio needed some color. So off we went, with the promise that the kids could help pick out the pots and plants if they behaved. They did. Sort of.

"You're bigger than my dad!!" (that was Daniel, commenting on the size of the gentleman standing behind us in line.)

"Why can't I look through the crack in the door?" (Natalie. I had just told her to stop that when I noticed she was trying to peer into a stall in the bathroom. It was occupied.)

"Look! He's an employee! How does that apron stay on?" (Daniel again. Okay, this one isn't so bad, but it's another example of talking - no shouting - about someone while they're standing right there.)

By the time we left the store, I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. I'm sure my face was red. I felt hot and frazzled and really just wanted to get outside with my nosy, un-self-aware preschoolers. They aren't bad kids, but, man, do they know how to embarrass me sometimes.

Here's what we ended up getting, by the way. Natalie chose these pink flowers. I threw the card away before I could get their name through. Bummer. I chose those yellow Chrysanthemums in the back. They remind me of fall, and I could use a bit of fall in this 90 degree heat we're having. 

I've had the aloe plant for awhile now, and he seems pretty happy in the back yard. Daniel chose those little red flowers, since red is his favorite color (along with orange). I threw the card away before I got the name of those, too. Sigh.

The whole family, all together. :) I've got a couple extra teeny tiny pots for something...not sure what yet. They're pretty small. That big plant on the far right is a tough one. I've tried killing it several times because it was in the way. I know, terrible, especially because it makes awesome, deep purple flowers. I just transplanted it to this giant pot the other day to give it a permanent home. Now I hope that I haven't killed it. I think he'll make it. He's a fighter.

Another view, with our bird bath in the back there.

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The One, Big Main Thing

I heard recently that there is this one, big main thing that makes some parents stand out from the rest.*  And it surprised me.

It had nothing to do with whether or not the parents stayed together.

It wasn't their super-human patience, or staying calm in every situation, or having the all the answers.

It had nothing to do with meal planning, or doing a load of laundry a day, or cleaning the bathroom weekly.

It wasn't organization.

It wasn't the many craft projects, or sensory bins, or light tables. 

And It wasn't homeschooling.

All of those are good things.  But I am an epic fail at most of them.  I'm so thankful for my marriage, but with everything else... I'm disorganized, I go through phases with meal planning, I do okay with the craft projects - but again, we go through phases in this house, I'm not sure I have what it takes to actually homeschool my kids, and I am not patient.

I used to think I was patient.  Really.  Then I had children.

Are you ready for the one, big main thing?

It is the ability to apologize to our kids.  When we've done something wrong - something we know is wrong - it is getting real with them.  Saying sorry.

That happened to us today.  

Snack on the porch.  Before things went south.

Around lunchtime, several things happened.  I decided to walk our little party down to the street so Natalie could ride her bike.  Then I realized Daniel should go potty since it had been awhile.  Silas started crying.  We get down to the street and it's super hot.  And sunny.  Natalie rides for a few minutes while Silas is still crying and Daniel is complaining.  We go back, I drop the mail and it goes everywhere, I have to carry the umbrella stroller through the soft sand, Natalie is complaining that it's too hard to push her bike over the rocks in our driveway, and Daniel is about to throw a tantrum.  Over what?  I don't know.

I lost my patience. 

I started snapping at the kids to pick up their toys, to watch out for their brother, to hurry up already so we could get inside.

Over lunch I felt conviction creep over me.  The good kind.  The kind that brings about some real change.  Yes, they were complaining and throwing tantrums.  But they are not the adult here.  I am.  It is not okay for me to throw a tantrum.  

And I did it - I said I was sorry, and I told them why.  It was a good conversation.  Natalie asked if I had sinned. We talked about how we all do wrong things.  And mommies are no different.  

And you know what?  I felt so much better afterward.  Who knew?  Turns out that settling things, even with your kids, is good for the soul. 


*I heard this from Donald Miller's blog, Storyline. 

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This post was shared at Heavenly Homemakers.

Red Lights

The red lights on the monitor are flashing.

Oh no.  Please stop.

I get up from my desk and walk over to turn up the volume.

Maybe one of the boys just coughed.

Nope.  The soft, pitiful cry of a 12 month old is piped through.  Not a loud cry.  Not a very awake cry.

Maybe he'll go back to sleep.

I sit down and go back to reading my article, but with divided attention.  Half of me wants to enjoy my time, but the other half is listening with baited breath to the monitor.  To that soft cry.  

Please go back to sleep.  Just roll over and stop crying.  Please.  

But he doesn't roll over, and I know why.  He's almost certainly standing up.  

Aggravated at this most unceremonious interruption of my night, I get up.  He's not going back to sleep. 

When I open the door to the boys' bedroom, my suspicions are confirmed: there, standing in the corner of his crib is Silas, crying, looking a little confused at the sudden light.  

And my heart melts.  

Oh yeah, he's kind of a sickie.  

Pulling him into my arms, I cradle him on the way to my bedroom.  This night waking is not terribly out of the ordinary these days, and we both know what to do.  We sit down, he snuggles in, and I nurse him.

He's just a baby.  Just a little guy.

But not for long.  His birthday is in two days.  

He needs me.  I'm his mom.  

I love to watch him nurse.  One hand absently fingers the hem on my shirt, the other pulled in under his chin.  He's completely at home.  He's completely comfortable.  And so I stare at him for what, in reality, is a very short amount of time.  10 minutes, maybe.

And then I put him back in bed.  He rolls over, sticks his bottom in the air, and I cover him with his blankie.  

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Why does my heart sink when I hear him start to cry?

I feel like I have to constantly remind myself that these moments are fleeting.  They're here...and tomorrow they'll be gone.  I won't be nursing a baby before long.  And although that's the thing half of me is living for (some freedom after these long years of raising young children), I know I'll miss it when it's gone.     

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Sometimes Being a Mom is Hard

If I ask him not to knock the eggs around, then why does he pick them up?

If I tell her to walk beside me, then why does she skip merrily ahead?

Sometimes being a mom is hard. 

Sometimes I have very little patience. For anything.  Anyone.  

Sometimes I just want to crawl in my bedroom and hide.  From the world.  From everyone.

But when you're a mom, you can't just hide.  Kids, little kids, they need you.  They want you.  

You have to take them grocery shopping.  Which includes (but is not limited to) the following: getting dressed, putting on shoes, brushing teeth, going potty, getting dressed and putting on shoes a second time because a certain someone refuses to go potty unless he's completely naked from the waist down, washing hands, doing hair, feeding the baby, changing a diaper, packing the bag, herding my sheep to the minivan, putting an end to an argument about who gets to get in first and who gets to be buckled first, entertaining a one year old with electronic nonsense, and actually buckling them all in.  Because they are all still in car seats.  Then you realize the one year old just pooped.  Aaaand, you change your second diaper.  

Then you go to the grocery store.  And you herd them around the store and grab them out of the way before they run into random shoppers.  You tell your son to stop poking his fingers into the cellophane wrapping on the veggie trays.  You nearly run over your daughter's foot because she insists on walking in front of you.  You ask why your older son just made the baby cry.  You huff.  And you puff.  And you want to blow something down.

But you don't.  You get your stuff.  And you get to the register.

And then you leave.  

Kind of deflated.  You just want to get home, back to your nice little home where it's okay if the kids are crazy and nobody cares if they're loud and I don't have to worry about...anything.  I can just feed them lunch and send them happily off to nap.

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In the middle of all of this, I stopped.  There, outside the grocery store, was a woman.  She had an older child, a baby in a carrier, and a sign.  

"Please help.  I just lost my job.  I have 4 kids." 

I've seen people hold signs before.  Sometimes, if I have the cash, I'll pass it on.  But she was different.  I was having a hard day (and really, how hard had my day actually been?).  She was a mom too, and she was having a hard...week? month?

I didn't have any cash on me, nothing really, to give, except for a prayer.  So I said a little prayer.  

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I don't want to minimize the struggles that I've been dealing with today.  Being a mom is tough, and I rarely feel like I have it all together.  We've all had days like today, when nothing seems right, even if nothing is really wrong.   

I needed a reminder of the many good things that I have.  Even if we don't have much, most of us have a roof over our heads and something to put in our tummies.  I am thankful for those things.  I am thankful for our health.  I am thankful for my kids, for the opportunity to raise them and love them.  I am thankful for my husband. 

Sometimes being a mom is hard.  But I wouldn't trade my life.  I wouldn't give my kids back if I could.  

I'm going to see it through. 

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Time for a Reality Check

The other day I read this book to my kids.

I started thinking.  Isn't that how God works?  He doesn't necessarily use the biggest, or the best, or the most natural choice to get something done.  He often uses the one that would have been forgotten by everyone else.  

I started this blog with the idea that I'd be able to pass on my pearls of wisdom to an audience just hungry for fresh ideas.  But my last couple of weeks in blog world have taught me that 1) Most ideas have already been written about at least once, 2) I am incredibly little, and 3) I feel even smaller in the shadow of some of the giants -- the really big deal blogs.  

And I don't think I'm alone.  It's easy to eat up countless pictures of perfection -- living rooms, kitchens, laundry rooms, all organized and running smoothly.  All the time.  And these learning activities.  They're really great, but...does anyone watch TV anymore?  Is it bad that I let my kids watch an episode of Dinosaur Train when I take my shower every morning?

So, here's the deal.  I'm still going to send stuff your way.  Good stuff, I think.  It's not that I've been lying about our explorations or the art projects, or any of it.  All of that is happening.  But it's happening in the middle of some very organized (or sometimes disorganized) chaos.  For real.  I don't want to leave out the "real" part in "Our (real) life at home." 

So!  In that spirit, I give you my house this morning.  Nothing was staged, folks.  Here we go.

Ah, the living room.  Chairs askew.  Baby toys strewn about.  

But overall, not bad.

Let's take a peek at the kitchen.

Look at that!  Folded laundry on the counter -- I'm getting stuff done!

Nope, wait.  That was yesterday's.  And it's still there as I type.  And there're at least three more loads waiting to be washed.  Ahhhh....

Here's our school room.  The school room is a fabulous idea, really.  But man, what a headache.  This is how it looks 90% of the time.  

 Yikes.

Moving on to the dining room,

and we find milk puddles from breakfast.  Whoops.  

The hall bath wasn't so bad.  There's the evidence that Silas was there, of course:

Oh, and a bag of Cheerios.  Moms of boys will know what those are for ;)

The kids' bedrooms.  No surprises here:

(Wow, it's like an explosion)

Aaaand, scene.

So, we're messy.  Sometimes really messy.  And we don't have a phenomenal activity planned for every day of the week.  Sometimes we just go outside and play in the sprinkler.  And the thing is, that's okay.  The internet has distorted our perception of reallity.  But I'm telling you (and I think other bloggers would agree), what you saw here today is normal.

All right now.  My cat's out of the bag.  Now I'd better go do some laundry.

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Happy Memorial Day!

A perfect Memorial Day might include...

Sticking fern seeds onto the end of sticks.

Examining minute pieces of dust at the end of the sidewalk.

Putting together nature collections on the front porch.

A little swimming.

And some intense concentration paired with wild silliness.

Happy Memorial Day!