Mom Stuff

The Gift of a Boring Summer

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The long exhale of summer holidays has begun.

The backyard has simultaneously become an oasis of free play and a courtroom drama with both sides arguing their case to the judge. Sibling relationships are growing and strengthening with each passing moment and a baby brother who can crawl adds a new dynamic.

One year ago this weekend, I was quite ready for our son to join the family. The other three children had been a week and a half to two weeks early, so surely he would follow suit! Not so. This boy decided to arrive the day after his due date, two of the hottest weeks of the year later, with a long fanfare: five days of early labour to prepare us for his eventual welcome.

Boy, was I tired.

Fast forward to today. Still tired. A different kind of tired, but still… tired.

We all are. It has been an intense year!

Change may happen quickly, but adjusting to the new normal happens slowly. We’ve had a lot of change this year, and we’re all ready for a deep breath and some beautiful space in the schedule to enjoy life together.

This summer, we will not be rushing around from activity to activity. We will not be cramming the days with every possible summer bucket list item. We will not adopt the frantic pace that sometimes comes with a such a short season of warm weather.

I have something else in mind.

I’d like to give the kids the gift of the kind of summers we had growing up – a good, ol’ fashioned, boring summer. And with that boredom, I want to give them the freedom to be creative, the space to make a mess, and the life skills to clean up after themselves.

Honestly though, it’s the last part that just might do me in! That’s why I came up with the “Mama’s Summer Prayer” (adapted from the Prayer of Serenity):

Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the messes they will make; the courage to make them clean up after themselves instead of just doing it myself; and the wisdom to know when they actually really do need my help! (haha!)

Here’s to a summer full of whatever it brings!

oobleck

The non-Newtonian fluid “Oobleck” – cornstarch and water – acts like a solid and a liquid. So cool!

The Gotta-Do’s and the Good-to-Do’s

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Sometimes the grind really grinds you down.

All the Gotta-do’s get mixed up with the Good-to-do’s, and it all gets out of whack.

Gotta do dishes.  Gotta do laundry.  Gotta do e-mails and texts and fb messages.  Gotta put the dollies in the dolly box, crayons in the colouring bin and random socks in the sock basket.  Gotta get to the lawn and water the garden. Gotta fill the van with gas, gotta take the garbage out, gotta get the shower sparkling, gotta, gotta, gotta.

Gotta-to-do can really take its toll.

But the Good-to-do’s are life-giving.

Good to stand beside a bright 7 year old who is determined to make her dad’s morning coffee just right with as little help as possible. Good to stop and listen to the chatter of a funny 5 year old who is constantly informing me about all of the things she is thinking and learning. Good to read “The Sneetches” to a beautiful curious 3 year old snuggled up beside me in the most deliciously comfortable way. Good to play on the floor with a sweet 10 month old flashing his irresistible toothy grin at every turn. Good to stop my dinner prep to kiss my dusty husband when he walks in the door from a long day at work.

Good to praise the Lord and forget not all His benefits, every moment of the day.

Like the heavy scent of springtime lilacs, they are that fragrant breath of fresh air you need but forget to take or REFUSE to take because the Gotta-do’s are in the way.

Loosen the grip on the Gotta-do’s and grab the hand of those Good-to-do’s – that’s the goal this week!

lilacs in spring

So fragrant!

Dandelion Bouquets

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The dandelions are popping up everywhere.

That’s how I know it’s almost Mother’s Day.

As a little girl, I wandered the yard and picked the biggest, brightest ones. I bunched up as many as I could curl my small fingers around and carefully carried them inside, leaving a trail of yellow bits behind me.

“Here Mom! Happy Mother’s Day,” I’d say. As soon as she saw the bouquet in my hands, her eyes lit up, face filled with joy, and she’d kiss my cheek and say, “Thank you, my sweet petunia.”

Then she’d take them and set them in the clear, short-stemmed, pressed glass water goblet on the middle of the table, as if they were a dozen long stem roses.

There they would stay, on that brown table in our tiny kitchen with the matching turquoise appliances, Mother’s Day evening sun streaming in the small west window, until they wilted.

And in the springtime of my teens, right in the middle of that long brown table in the farm kitchen with the strawberry plant wallpaper and brown paneling, Mother’s Day morning sunshine streaming in that east window above the sink, until they wilted.

Year after year, I picked dandelions for my mom. And year after year, they went on display, filling my little heart with joy and pride.

Our dandelions appeared this week, and they don’t stand a chance of going to seed because as soon as my own girls see one, it gets picked… just for me.

The tradition continues.

Without fail, they bloom in three generations of hearts, as a sweet shared memory of the most beautiful Mother’s Day bouquet of all.

I love you Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.

dandelions for ma

Dandelion bouquets

I Want You to Be With Me All Day

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“I want you to be with me all day!”

When our oldest daughter was a preschooler she would say this to me, around the time her second little sister appeared.

“But I AM with you all day,” I’d reply, laughing.

There were days when we were literally in each other’s space every moment and at bedtime, the refrain was the same. “But I want you to be with me all day!” she’d repeat.

I knew what she meant. She didn’t want me to just be there in the same house with her all day, she wanted me to stop doing whatever I was doing – be that nursing a newborn, cleaning up a potty accident, making dinner or other various household tasks – and be present with her in her moment.

It was her way of saying, “I need you mom.”

I remember being a kid and going to bed before my mom got home from her evening shift. That feeling of knowing she was out there somewhere in the world instead of safe and warm at home with me was unsettling. I always tried to stay awake until I heard that front door open and her voice sounded from the next room.

It didn’t matter what was going on around me, things were all right with the world when she was near.

Now I am the mom, and my kids want my full attention and presence. They want me to “be with them all day”, so to speak.

How often do I say the same thing to God? “I want You to be with me all day, Lord!” my heart whispers. And I wonder if He’s there.

“I AM with you,” comes the reply – through His Word. Through His beautiful created world. Through His provision.

Except He’s not whispering, He’s calling. He’s never distracted and always available.

Regardless of how we may feel today, we can be sure God is with us. Instead of “I want You to be with me all day”, let’s pray “thank You Lord that You will never leave me alone” (Hebrews 13:5b).

mom and kids

The Winter is Over.

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The sound of melting is music to my ears, peppered with little boots splishing and splashing alongside stroller wheels on the sidewalk.

The first walk of Spring is underway. I can hear birds twittering and flittering from tree to tree, preparing for a long season of growth and change.

The winter is over. We breathe a sigh of relief. Yes, we know that more snowflakes will fall before summer arrives, but in the meantime, sun bathes our neighbourhood in warmth and beauty. Even the runoff, meandering down the middle of the road, is sparkling with life and hope.

“Look at the way this one curves back and forth,” I say, pointing to a small stream trickling down the sidewalk in front of us.

“Wow!” they shout, zigging and zagging through it, pants wet to the knees from all the joys of puddle-jumping.

One bends down and fishes three soggy pinecones out of the mud puddle, tossing them happily into the middle of the road. “Here ya go, squirrels!” she shouts. “Some food for you!”

Simple joys.

Thank you Jesus for the beauty of this moment.

tulips

White tulips growing in my living room!

I’m Typing With One Hand

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Frozen mornings and warm afternoons.

March sunshine is powerful here. It melts away a landscape full of snow and cold, and brings the hope that one day soon it really will be a new season.

These sunny days are a balm for winter-weary souls. We are the hearty, the strong Canadian kind who look forward to snowstorms and can’t wait to play outside. But come March, even we long for the tradition of swatting mosquitoes around the campfire.

I am learning this simple truth: there is beauty in every season.

Winter’s frigid cold brings pastel skies and pale sunshine that makes the air sparkle with diamond dust.

Spring holds the beauty of birdsong and budding trees and flowers.

Summer’s heat grows our gardens and offers us long, warm evenings to play in.

Fall’s glorious colour is a second Spring of sorts, and its crisp air refreshes our senses.

Every year we receive these blessings without fail.

In my life I tend to see the glaring difficulties of the season I am in. And in my haste to focus on the negative, I sometimes miss the little lovely moments that really make this season beautiful. This morning, for the very first time in her seven years of life, our oldest daughter, our early riser, sleepily asked me to “wake her up in ten minutes”.  I got to kiss my husband and we laughed together before he left for work. I have a small silky-headed boy in my arms, gnawing on my shoulder, chattering away, slowly tuckering himself out for a nap. And the middle two girls are currently wrapped up in a world of their imaginings, creating a story out of thin air and random household objects.

I kiss my boy’s chubby little cheek, knowing that before long, he will be right in the middle of all if it, running to keep up with the big kids.

I’m typing with one hand. It is taking me three times as long this way, but I don’t mind.

This is the beauty in my season – all the ordinary moments that are extraordinary to me.

Bluebird sky

A Bluebird Sky in March – my view from the backyard.

Seeing with “Grandma Eyes”

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I wrote this when my first two daughters were just 3 and 1, in Spring 2014. These memories are so close to my heart! And I still wish I had “Grandma Eyes”, but I know that it often takes the passing of the years to bring the important things of life into sharper focus.

***

I came across a photo this evening from my trip to Tanzania nearly six years ago.

woman in tanzania

She was waiting for treatment outside an HIV clinic in one of the villages we visited.  I have no idea what happened to her.

In fact, I had forgotten about her until I saw this.

She said it was okay for me to take her picture.  I was grateful.  I never thought that six years later I’d look back on it and wonder if she was still alive.

Six years.

We spend our lives wrapped in the small moments.  Then suddenly something from the past appears to remind us that time waits for no one.

I was thinking about what happens every night at bedtime at our house:

“Mom.  MOM!  MOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!”

I enter the darkness and lean down over her little pink and yellow bed.  “Yes?” I whisper, and kiss her little plump cheek.

“There’s one thing I want you to do for me.”

“What?”

“Ummmm…” (quickly thinking of something) “…can you turn up the story?”

“Sure sweetheart.”  I move the volume button on the iPod dock one notch up so she can hear the story-on-tape a little better.

“Thanks Mama.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart.  Goodnight.”  I lean down for another kiss on her cheek, and stroke her hair.  “Time for sleeping.”

And then a cry from the other room, and a little one who just wants to throw one arm around my neck and rest her sweet head on my shoulder with her pint-sized stuffed Snoopy tucked under the other arm – the perfect position for the night.

Absolutely THE best.  And I slowly set her down with a kiss on her squishy cheek.

And then I stand up from the sides of their beds, and suddenly she’s three and she’s one and here we go into month 4 of another year.  My half-birthday has come and gone, and we’re nearing Easter celebrations.

Wasn’t it just Christmastime?

I’ve often said I wish I could see these moments with “Grandma Eyes” – with the wisdom and perspective of all those wonderful women who have gone before me.  The ones who know better than anyone that they sure do grow up fast, so don’t sweat the small stuff (and there is ALOT more small stuff than you realize, young mama!).

I look again at the woman above.

Time is short.

We must make the most of the moments, because the milestones come faster than we realize.

Oh Lord Jesus, help me savour the sweetness instead of sighing with heaviness.  Give me even just a glimpse of life through Grandma Eyes!

Jesus, Are You There?

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Sometimes circumstances feel overwhelming. It might not be any one particular thing, really — it’s just all of it put together. In those moments, I am learning to cry out to Jesus! I wrote this a few months ago and rediscovered it recently, finding that even though our challenges have changed, it still speaks to me today. My heart is reminded, yet again, of the God who does not forsake.

***

“I’m hungry but I don’t want these apples! What else is there?”

“I got a paper cut, can I have a princess bandaid?”

“Can’t I just have one more candy from my candy bucket?”

“LOST BOOK! LOST BOOK! Where is that book I had yesterday?”

All the questions, all the time.

Jesus?

The washing machine has been going non-stop thanks to cold and flu season. As I scrub my sandpaper hands for the thousandth time, cracked and bleeding from the freezing cold outside and my attempts at keeping the germs from spreading, I glance up at myself in the mirror. I try to smile, but I can’t. Literally. The right corner of my mouth moves up slightly, but is stopped by my chipmunk cheek, swollen from having a broken tooth pulled.

Jesus, are you there?

I gently set the baby down. Finally! He is sound asleep. Or so I thought. Eyes flutter open, restless wiggling begins. Sighing, I gently pick him up and accept that my evening plans have changed. Tonight I’ll be wearing grooves into the floor where my feet are planted, in front of the crib, rocking him in the dark, quietly singing and praying for my boy.

Jesus? Can you see me?

I’m climbing a mountain, but I can’t see the summit. I’m reaching up for the next ledge, but I can’t find it. There’s no place to stand up straight and look around, to breathe deep, to enjoy the view.

Frustrated tears stream down my face.

Where are you Jesus? Are you here, even now, in this time and place? In these moments of a million questions, inconvenient illnesses and pure exhaustion?

My heart knows the answer.

Yes, when I don’t think I can deal with one more question.

Yes, when the kids are sick and I just don’t feel like it.

Yes, when my back is sore and my legs are screaming and I just want to sit down.

Yes, when I feel like it will always be like this.

“Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5b

trees in sun

When things aren’t fully in focus, God is still glorious.

The Sweetest Hour

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I wrote this a few years ago when my second daughter was not quite two and I was expecting our third child. Tired did not begin to describe where I was at! But I treasure these sweet memories.

***

My head hit the pillow last night at about 10:30, and my aching body gave way to glorious sleep.  I don’t remember a thing.

Until about 3am.

A tiny little voice was just enough to jolt me awake.

“MAMA!  W’AR YOU?!”

Little one. Awake.  Again.  Thanks to some new teeth breaking through and a penchant for middle-of-the-night chatter, she stood at my door in her little striped purple footie jammies.

“Mama?  Cuddles?  Couch?”

I scooped her up in her white crocheted blanket, gave her Snoopy and Raffi (her stuffed giraffe), and held her on my lap.  She talked about the stars that were projected onto the ceiling from one of those ladybug lights.

I closed my eyes, and felt a little hand on my face.

“No, Mama.  No close eyes.  Open eyes.  Count the STARS!”

Oh my goodness, I thought she would wake her snoring big sister for sure.  (They’ve been sharing a room for a month and  a half.  We’re still working out the kinks.)

Nope.  The oldest sawed logs while the younger one chatted about how the pink stars are up there, and could she touch them or taste them, but no they’re not food.

“Stars not food Mama!”  she laughed.

“No, stars are not food.  Shh… go to sleep…” I tried.

Her blanket was freshly washed and dried with vanilla scented dryer sheet.

She smelled like a warm vanilla cookie.  What a delicious moment.

3am gave way to 4am, and I decided it was time to put her back in her bed.  I only had to bring her back about three or four times before she stayed until nearly 7am (what a miracle!).

Her big sister was up just before 6am, looking for a Berenstain Bears book to read.

The day officially began.  Even though it kind of already began at 3am, with an inquisitive “Mama, w’ar you?”

Although sleep-deprived today, I really wouldn’t have missed that hour for the world.

feet

Tiny toes

A Simple Moment that Changed Our Day

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“First she wrecked my toys, now she has my favourite cup!” my almost 5 year old shrieked. It had been a long morning already – and it had only just begun. Feeling forgotten and frustrated, she sat on the floor and wailed.

I turned from my important task, walked across the room, sat down on the floor beside her and pulled her onto my lap, arms around her tight.

“I love you. I see you,” I said quietly between her sobs. Her body relaxed and she poured out her heart. It was a moment we both would have missed if I hadn’t paid attention.

Truthfully, I don’t always catch on to their cries to be seen and held. Sometimes when they upset my apple cart of plans and goals for that very moment, I react instead of respond. But I am learning that when my kids are pushing away from me, that’s when I need to stop what I am doing, and draw near to them.

Anyone else find it easier to lecture than to love? Love requires more than my words. Lecturing postures me above them, wagging my finger and my tongue, hoping it will somehow change their behaviour; love puts me beside them, holding and comforting, offering security and safety. Lecturing can be done from across the room; love demands the nearness of my actual presence. Lecturing leaves lingering guilt; love brings restoration.

Jesus, silence my lecturing tongue and let your amazing love flow through me today to these precious ones in my care.

love kid art

a love note from my daughter