Expectations

Yesterday I got to go grocery shopping all by myself.  I can’t remember the last time that happened.  It was such a treat to be able to compare prices without having to worry about someone running off or crying or needing to go to the bathroom. 

On the way home, I was thinking about what I would find my husband and three kids doing when I arrived.  In what must have been a euphoric delusion, I imagined I would find the older kids playing with their Daddy in the front yard as the baby lay on a blanket in the sun.  The breakfast dishes would be in the dishwasher, and a load of laundry would be running in the washing machine.

Then I snapped back to reality.  I can’t even manage to get those things done most mornings.  How should I expect my husband, who is not as practiced as am I in dealing with three kids at one time, to accomplish more than what I can get done in two hours?  I chuckled to myself when I got home and found a crying baby, a sleeping two-year-old, a pile of dishes on the counter, and my husband putting grades in his grade book.

I obviously have unrealistic expectations sometimes.  Numerous times, in fact.  Usually I place these unrealistic expectations on myself or my husband.  And when I do that, the results are calamitous.  I’m almost always disappointed:  I didn’t accomplish as much as I wanted; I didn’t exercise; my husband didn’t come home with flowers in his hands for me.

But, recently, I was reminded that God sometimes wants us to have unrealistic expectations.  He wants us to pray boldly and trust that he will answer boldly.  As I was driving him to school this last week, I prayed that God would give my husband an AWESOME day.  I hesitated.  That seemed like too much to ask, as my husband had stayed up late correcting, been up several times during the night with a restless daughter, and rose early to get ready for a meeting.  But, I realized that if I didn’t ask God to bless him with an awesome day, I would be putting limits on God.  And so, I offered up my prayer, and asked God to help me pray more boldly all the time.

Now, I’m not seeing grand miracles every day.   But, God did answer my prayer that day.  He blessed my husband’s day at school.  And, he has helped me to trust that he has the best answers to all my prayers.

Evolution

Anyone who knows me knows that I am entirely against evolution.  I spent 5 years teaching students about it, from the perspective that they should know what they would be facing in the world.  To them (and me also) it was difficult to understand how anyone could doubt the miracles of this Earth were created by our wonderful Heavenly Father.

As a mom of three, I have discovered a new reason why evolution can’t be true.  Perhaps you’re thinking I’ll say, “The births of my children are so miraculous.”  Or perhaps, “Who else but God could design such a wonderful little body.”  But, here’s the real reason:   I don’t have eight hands and eyes in the back of my head. 

Lately my two oldest have been doing their best to cause trouble and make a mess whenever I sit down to feed the baby.  For example, last week, after feeding the baby, I came out to the kitchen to find my daughter in the refrigerator.  “What are you doing?” I asked.  As she turned to look at me, guilty expression and all, I noticed three sticks of butter with finger gouges and bite marks.  “EWE!!!  We don’t eat butter!”  “Yes we do, mama.”  (Okay, she got me there.  We do eat butter.  But, we had a discussion about the right way to eat butter.)

The next day, I had another moment of wishing I were OctoMom (eight-handed, that is).  As I was getting the two youngest out of the van at my oldest son’s preschool, he decided to walk himself in to school.  This included walking across a busy parking lot at the peak of drop-off time.  And, as I watched a car quickly slow down to wait for him, I wished I had an extra set of hands to grab and hold on to him.

Amazingly enough, God has decided that two hands and two eyes are sufficient for all of us.  And, as I learn how best to manage my brood, he gives me an even greater comfort.  He is with me.  And my kids.  He’s watching out for all of us, keeping us safe, healthy, and connected to him!

Cleaning House

I had a cleaning fest at my house recently.  I have family coming to visit, and I want my house to be looking nice when they come.  As I was rushing to vacuum and dust between loads of laundry, I realized it was time to feed my son.  At first, I was irritated that I had to stop in the middle of my cleaning rampage.  But, as I sat down on my couch, I realized how nice it was to take a break.  (Maybe this is why God invented breast feeding!)

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how God wants us to take a break.  He wants us to clear away the clutter in our lives so we can focus on him.  My own mom set a great example for me.  She was always the first one out of bed in the morning so she had her own quiet time to read her Bible.  I like to read my Bible at night to help me relax with God’s word.  My husband has shown me that asking God to help me stay awake before I start reading is a great idea.

I’ve also started running again.  And I’ve found that this is a good time for me to pray.  I have time to think of the people in my life and say a quick prayer of thanks for them or to ask God to be with them.  An added bonus is that it distracts me from my sore muscles!

Some days it’s hard for moms to get a break (or even go to the bathroom).  I pray that we never get so busy we think it’s okay to take a break from God’s Word.  That’s where we find the rest we truly need.

Letting Go

My daughter fell asleep tonight watching her mommy cry.  She has been having a hard time falling asleep lately, and tonight was the worst it has been.  Her normal “Don’t leave, Mommy” was followed by, “Stay in my room.”  After several unsuccessful attempts at getting her to fall asleep on her own, I gave up and decided to rub her back for her until she fell asleep.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t as asleep as I thought she was when I tried to leave her room…five times.  So, on the sixth attempt, as I was lying next to her on the floor, my frustration boiled out in the form of tears.

What was the cause of my frustration, really?  My pride.  I’m quite proud of the fact that my children can go to bed without all the drama.  We worked very hard with the two older ones to get them to have a regular bedtime routine.  And, we’re in that process now with our new baby.  “How can I get my baby into a bedtime routine,” I wondered, “if my daughter is fighting bedtime so much?”

And then even more questions popped into my mind.  “How can I handle more than three kids?  Do I really want more than three kids?”  I’ve always thought I wanted a big family.  And even now, I usually feel like I want more than three kids.  But I’m starting to see that part of my reasoning for wanting a big family is pride.  I want to show people that I can be a good mom to lots of kids.

Of course, first I need to be a good mom to a few kids.  I know that, with God's help, I am a good mom for my kids.  And yet, I struggle some days with patience.  I struggle with pride.  Some days I struggle just to make sure they have clean clothes and eat good food!

Maybe someday God will give me the chance to be a good mom to lots of kids.  Fortunately, he's giving me practice with just a few right now.  It's amazing how often God uses my kids to teach me a lesson.

Which Mommy?

As I write this, I have a sleeping infant snuggled on my shoulder.  I feel just a little guilty.  Lately, he’s been taking most of his naps in his car seat.  He probably should be sleeping in his crib, since we’re actually home while he’s sleeping, but I have decided to indulge my Mommy heart today.

I’ve been fighting a personal battle lately over which identity gets to win.  I have the Mommy persona, the house wife persona, and the good wife persona.  (I’m sure there are probably more, but these are the ones in conflict right now.)  My house wife persona sees the toys spread throughout the house, the dishes piled up in the sink, the laundry waiting to be folded, and she wants to conquer them all RIGHT NOW!  My good wife persona wants to have a fantastic dinner ready for my husband when he gets home; clean, well-rested children excited to see him; and energy to stay up and help him with his correcting.  My Mommy persona sees three kids who won’t be this little for very long; they want to play with me, they need to snuggle and read books; and they need help being potty trained.

All the things I’ve listed are important, and so I am in conflict.  But today, I remembered part of our Pastor’s sermon from last Sunday.  Jesus let the little children come to him.  He took time from his busy (and much more important) schedule to let the kids know they were important, too.  And so I took a break from the laundry I was folding, put shoes on two little pairs of feet, snuggled a little baby into his carrier and walked defiantly past the piles of toys on my porch.  I put my two oldest in the stroller, and we walked to the park.  I drove the pretend car, vrooming noises and all, to the “hotel”, where I was served rock coffee and leaf cookies.  I was invited to help build a sand tower “way, way, way up to heaven.”  (Perhaps we need a refresher of the tower Babel?)  I helped find the perfect lollipop (a stick the size of my daughter’s hand).  And, as we walked home to make lunch, my heart felt happy.

Of course, the laundry still sits, waiting to be folded.  There are still toys that need putting away.  Dinner is waiting for me to make.  But, I had fun today playing with my kids.  And I am grateful that God has given me the opportunity to have that chance.