Raising kids

Home for Summer

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Summer brings a new rhythm to our house.

My husband and I have four children aged 8 and under so it requires some creativity and a great deal of patience to have everyone under the same roof 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. In fact, as I write this, my four year old is standing beside me holding a Golden Book, “reading” it to me in her version of a British accent.

Do you know how difficult it is to focus on the task at hand with such cuteness in the room?

Not to mention the inevitable bickering, screaming, whining and rainy day cabin fever that makes everyone feel a bit stir crazy. Add in regular bursts of laughter and the sillies and it’s nearly impossible to concentrate.

They’re in holiday mode; my work still needs to get done.

So how do we do it? How do we coexist in the same space, with very different goals? My goals are to be productive and efficient at all my tasks. Their goals are to be on summer vacation.

Worlds collide.

Can I make room for the chaos that comes with welcoming my children into my plans?

Last week I announced that we’re going to have to be very patient with one another as we adjust to our “summer normal”. I talked about giving each other lots of grace.

I think the talk was more for me than it was for them. Even after years of being surrounded by my small children, they still stretch me beyond my limits and I find myself asking the Lord for great patience and courage to parent with kindness, compassion and intention.

I came across this story in Mark 10:13-16 (NIV) —

People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” And he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.

Jesus was indignant when He saw how the disciples were treating those children. He told them to let the children come and not to stop them. This was a stark contrast to how children were viewed and treated in the culture of His day. In fact, instead of rebuking them like His disciples did, Jesus brought the children near and blessed them. He told His disciples that God’s Kingdom belongs to those who are like children, and we would do well to have a simple faith like children do.

Do we have the eyes to see? Do we have the ears to hear? Children view the world in a remarkable way; they are a gift.

This summer, I have another opportunity to learn from my kids, while also teaching them and building a unique relationship with each one.

But if I am consumed with my own narrow plans and goals, I will miss the opportunity altogether.

Being a mom isn’t easy, but the messages of culture aren’t making it any easier. Our culture communicates that “the kids are alright”. In other words, children turn out okay no matter what we do, so we are free to invest the best of ourselves in other places. God’s truth about kids is that they are precious treasures to be welcomed and learned from.

It happens every single time. Whenever I take all four kids to the grocery store, strangers ask “are they ALL yours?” or mention how I have my hands full. We are often the recipients of stares and even glares. Other parents often extend grace, but most of the time the air is thick with huffs of impatience.

Our entire culture is designed to make the kids “someone else’s problem”. We face enormous pressure to put them in daycare, then preschool. When they get to school age, we are told we are depriving them if we don’t enrol them in at least two extracurriculars, which take up most evenings and weekends. In summer, we are encouraged to ship them off to camps and then to grandma’s and then to hire the babysitter so we can accomplish our plans and goals. Mom-memes are filled with jokes about running out of the house as fast as possible when dad gets home or longing for the hour the kids finally go to bed.

It’s funny because it’s true. I really need regular breaks from my kids! I’m a work-from-home/work-away-from-home mama. Sometimes I just need to get. things. done.

But I fear that if we design our entire lives around trying to get away from them, we may give them the impression that we don’t actually want to be around them all that much. And you know what? That’s a really tough impression to get rid of.

When I was a teenager, I read a quote that has stuck with me over the years. It’s a simple prayer that I carry in my heart: “Lord, stamp eternity into my eyes”.

My perspective of parenting needs to be larger than my personal goals and dreams, even in summertime when they’re constantly invading my space.

Back to the living room, on a rainy summer afternoon.

“Mom! Even though Captain Hook has a bigger sword, Peter Pan always wins!” my four year old exclaimed. She held up an illustrated copy of Peter Pan, telling the story by looking at the pictures.

The culture may have a bigger sword, but God’s profound ways and wisdom always wins.

Peter and Hook

Image: a snapshot of Disney’s “Peter Pan” from an old Golden Book

Time to Breathe

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Is there anything more schedule-busting than illness? All the plans are put on hold until you hit recovery mode and then slowly you begin the process of catching up. It usually takes two, maybe three days to get through a tough cold, flu or stomach bug. Usually. Multiply that by four children and we’re talking two to three weeks. And often, when we’ve gotten over one thing, the next thing shows up.

Lord, have mercy.

It becomes my cold and flu season prayer. There are times when I’m not sure I can possibly do another load of laundry or wipe down another light switch or get out of my bed for another middle-of-the-night coughing fit.

And then, mercy shows up. The fever breaks, the illness skips the next kid, sleepless nights end.

Thank You, Lord.

That’s my other cold and flu season prayer. All the small things I may have otherwise overlooked have become reminders that He really is Emmanuel, God WITH us, in every moment.

Can I tell you something? This is a fairly new way of dealing with my feelings when illness strikes our home. Throughout my life, I have been notoriously inflexible when it comes to plans. Upset plans tend to upset me greatly. I feel deeply disappointed when something gets in the way of what I was going to do. And for many years, it went quite well. I was able to keep to my plans without much effort.

And then, kids.

I’ll tell you, nothing has brought greater growth in this area of my life than becoming a parent. I remember when my oldest was a baby, my mom shared some great wisdom with me. She said, “Stephanie, think of this as the gift of time. Whenever your plans have to change, you’re getting the gift of time to rest, time together, time to breathe.”

Thank You Lord.

The other day, three of the four kids were nestled in on the couch, completely captivated by the story playing out on the screen in front of them.  Two were home from school and one was just happy to have her sisters with her for the day. I glanced over at them, sharing in this moment together, and I thanked the Lord for this gift of rest, of time together, of time to breathe.

clock and coffee

Image: Aphiwat Chuangchoem

Who Needs Sleep?

/ stephanienicole / 3 Comments

I’ve been sleep deprived for at least 8 years.

It’s a bit of a problem, but thankfully it comes in waves. There are nights that I actually do get to sleep all the way through, and the next morning the world is in full colour! Many days, though, I’m dealing with the effects of being up in the night with at least one of our four kids.

Last summer, though, I had a moment of clarity and gratitude for it all.

I laid awake in the middle of the night with an arm around a little warm body.  Our 5 and a half year old had fled to our room after a bad dream.  I didn’t know she was there until she was climbing over me and snuggling in for refuge.  We talked about it a little bit, and after a few minutes, she was ready to go back to her own bed.

When I got up with her to help her find her way in the dark, 3 and a half year old awoke and began to cry loudly about the lullabies on the iPod.  They weren’t right.  They were too quiet.  The nightlight wasn’t in the right spot…  I took a deep breath to keep from losing it and reminded her to use a quiet voice so she didn’t wake the babe.  “I CAN’T!” she wailed.  That about did it.  I hissed a “be quiet or else” type of warning and tucked them in.

For the next hour I drifted in and out of sleep while more noise came from their room than is necessary or allowed at 3am.  At 4, one was up again trying to get to the potty on time, but oops.  I could hear the steady stream hitting the step stool in front of the sink from the warmth of my wonderful bed.  I bolted up and out of bed just in time to see a giant puddle and a worried little face.  I gently told her it was okay and that accidents happen.  She sat on the potty and waited while I wiped and washed it up, found fresh pajamas from the clean laundry baskets downstairs, and tucked her in again.  As I was going back to bed, I pretended not to hear a small squawk from Little One’s room.

My head hit the pillow with great desperation and I sighed, feeling crankier than ever.

My husband put his hand on my arm and said, “Thank you for doing all of that.”  He has often been the one to take care of the potty accidents while I calm a crying babe, so he knows all too well what it’s like to get up with the kids.

“I am sure there is a special place in heaven for mamas who get up a million times in the night.”  I said.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“4:15,” I said.  “I am so tired.”  He patted my arm again.  We laughed for a minute or two about how we know we are living in the good old days right now… at least that’s how we are going to remember nights like these.

The next morning at 6:30 (read:  2 hours and 15 minutes later), two out of three kids were awake and playing.  One woke up with a fit of tears at 7, complaining that she wasn’t done sleeping.  But pretending you’re a superhero is irresistable, and all was forgotten before breakfast.

Not every night is like this one, but we’ve had our share.  In the early days of sleepless nights, I’d spend the following day feeling bad for not having the energy to take the kids out to the park or run a bunch of errands or have craft time WITH painting (so much to clean up!) or make cookies and have a flour fight in the kitchen like they do on the commercials.  But I must be getting smarter or something because I am learning to take it easy on those days instead!  We all NEED it.

Come to think of it, I’m either getting much smarter or even more exhausted, because I am so done with trying to figure out how to do everything perfectly and keep up with that pesky Jones family on social media.

My word this summer is GRACE.  I mean, how many days have I spent my time and energy wondering if what I have done with my kids or in my house today meets an imaginary standard I’ve set for myself?  These good ol’ days have often been filled with angst as I “should” myself to death throughout the day.  “I should have taken them there.  I should have fed them this.  I should have done that thing…”.  But I saw something the other day that was EXACTLY what I needed.  Instead of asking, “what have I done today?”, ask “who have I been today?” (thanks Alicia Bruxvoort and Proverbs 31 Ministries).

My heart echoes a resounding “YES!!”.

As we tumble through this stage of our lives, in the thick of these good ol’ days, it’s the nights with no sleep and letting go of perfect that are helping me to bear the fruit that matters most:  love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Gal. 5:22).

One sleepless night at a time.

sunflowers at sunrise

We grew sunflowers one year. They were so beautiful at sunrise.

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

Letting My Living Room Go

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I walked in the house the other night and saw the remnants of the day scattered around the living and dining room. Books over here, toys over there, unfinished pictures and markers on the table. Random socks dotting the floor, along with crumbs and bits of paper, and little t-shirts and pants in piles where daytime clothes became pajamas.

And you know something? For the very first time, maybe the only time ever in my life, I didn’t freak out. I looked upon the glorious mess and my heart was actually lifted by the signs of life around me! It’s a common sight in our home – all the things lying around all the time. It’s truly the project that is never quite finished! Every day, we fill up and spill over this space. Yes, it is work to clean it up – and yes, since our kids are still pretty young, we’re heavily involved in the supervising and helping of said cleaning – but I had this realization in that moment that felt like I had sprouted wings and flew away from the stress of our mess.

It was simply this: we are a lively family of six people who all have our own plans and dreams and goals for this shared space we live in. And while those plans and dreams and goals don’t always align, one thing is for certain – we are living here together, and we are making a home with each other, enthusiastically pursuing our interests. But guess what? One day that will change. They’ll be enthusiastically pursuing their interests in their own homes, and this space will hold the memories of running and playing and laughing and creating and resting and recharging and building relationships with the ones they hold dear.

Can I just be honest? This is something I have to work with in my heart most days, because kid mess can really drain the life out of you if you let it. Thankfully the older kids are getting to be experts at cleaning up the thing they are playing with before pulling something else out, but we still have littles who are exploring the world around them with great curiosity! And instead of freaking out over the mess like I used to, I’m starting to adopt the famous Miss Frizzle quote from “The Magic Schoolbus”. Right before they go on their adventure, she always says, “Time to take chances, make mistakes and get messy!”

This year, I vow to keep the top of the piano cleared of clutter so I can have a nice vase of fresh flowers on it instead of junk. But other than that, it’s a free-for-all. We are going to learn to get messy and learn how to clean it up all together, even if it takes all day!

Here’s to letting MY living room go, and letting it become OUR living room!

IMG_2155

Flowers on the piano

We who are in the thick of it…

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This one is for the mamas of littles.

We who are in the thick of it, neck-deep in diapers and finger rhymes, early readers and mad monkey bar skills.

There is something incredible about this early stage of motherhood. It brings you to the edge of yourself and then gives you a little tap, sending you flying over into the arms of Jesus. It strengthens you in areas you didn’t know you were weak, it smooths the edges you didn’t know were so sharp, it softens your hard heart and brings stunning moments of beauty out of what otherwise feels mostly like chaos.

And all of that takes an amazing amount of time and brain space. It’s really easy to lose yourself in it as the days of “eat, play, poop, sleep, repeat” turn into weeks and months. Sleep deprivation takes its toll. There’s only so much time, and slowly, things you once loved start falling to the side. Besides, you’ll pick them back up in a few years when the kids don’t need you anymore.

Enter the mom-guilt.

Some of us feel guilty for popping out to grab a coffee with a friend. Some of us feel guilty for going back to work. Some of us feel guilty for not planning out an entire day’s worth of brain-enriching activities, with a hundred healthy snacks and meals and endless time for reading with our kids.

Some of us simply struggle with doing anything that remotely resembles something just for us. We are waiting until the right time, for things to be perfect, so we can relax and do our thing without interruption or distraction.

After just seven years of parenting, here’s what I’m coming to realize. Although the way my kids need me will change, they will never really stop needing their mom.

I know because I have never stopped needing mine.

We will always be in each other’s lives, affecting each other’s lives.

Our kids will always need us, just in different ways, and in different seasons.

We know it won’t always be like it is now. One day our littles will not need us to help them go potty or learn to use a spoon. There will be more space for our careers, our interests and our passions to take flight into incredible achievements. There will be time for all the things we once dreamed of doing.

One gorgeous autumn afternoon, we’ll see the sun shining through the window into our clean living rooms and envision the exact toys that were once scattered there. We’ll see our counters free of crumbs and remember days like today, when all manner of Cheerios and cheese bits are waiting to be wiped up. We’ll have a moment of wishing for just one more snuggle and one more tickle fight and one more belly laugh and one more game of chase-the-toddler down the hall for a bath.

laundrytoys

And then we’ll remember that they are soaring into their own adventures with all the spit and vinegar of youth! And we’ll cheer them on as they learn and grow.

And that means we’ll always be learning how to strike the balance between pouring ourselves out for our families and taking the time and space we need to tend to our own hearts.

Once I was talking to a woman with a large family who was going through a divorce after two decades of marriage. My heart broke as she shared her story. While she spoke, she said something that struck me:  “You know when the flight attendant says in the event of an emergency to put your own oxygen mask on before you help someone else with theirs? That’s really important. Take care of yourself so you can take care of your family. I didn’t do that. I should have done that.”

Sometimes the daily grind feels, well, very grind-y, pushing us beyond our limits and making us feel drained.

There is wisdom in recognizing when we really do need take a break for our own sake and the sake of our family.

Around Mother’s Day this year, my eldest daughter asked me what I was into.  I think she was making a list of ideas for gifts or something.

“Daddo loves Star Trek and sharks. What do you love, Mama?”

“Hmm,” I said. I searched my very tired brain for a moment, but it was blank.  Pregnancy exhaustion was filling every inch of my mind and heart. “Well, I like cool mugs. And fun journals.”

She bounced away, happy with the reply, but the question stuck with me. What do I love?  What were my interests and the things that made me feel happy?

I was too tired to remember, and for very good reason. My life is very full! Truth be told, I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I can very easily become overwhelmed and depleted if I don’t stay on top of the basics.

Extra sleep.

A hot shower.

Good food.

Getting outside in the sunshine.

Exercise.

Connecting with the Lord in prayer, worship and Bible reading.

A date with my hubby.

Talking with friends.

Space to do something I love.

Time actually playing with the kids.

In  my first years of parenting, it took alot for me to ask for help — even from my husband! I thought, “I chose this, no one is going to do it for me.” And we all suffered for it. With my third daughter, everything changed. About two weeks after she was born, we discovered she had a rare condition that required close monitoring with many tests, appointments and medication – and I simply could not do it all on my own. My mom came to help, not to mention the amazing church friends and other family that stood by us and helped us through a time when we really needed them.

Here’s the thing – when I’m feeling like I need a break, I have learned to tell someone. Even if I feel silly, or like I don’t matter anyway, or like I’m being a burden —  I tell my brain to be quiet, and then I tell someone how I’m feeling.

It’s my first step in finding a bit of balance.

You matter.

Your family loves you and needs you.

REMEMBER!

A refreshed mama is an amazing mama. There will be time for big things later if we make time for the little things now.