31 Days to Embracing Motherhood · motherhood · reflections

When You Need a Time-Out to Balance It All

A re-publish of one of my Embracing Motherhood posts.  Linking up with Kayse today for Balancing Marriage&Mommyhood.

I’ve written about time outs before.  The difference between mommy time outs and kid time outs here.  How sometimes life hands us a time out that’s not necessarily what was planned.

I’ve learned to embrace a lot about motherhood, time out for myself included.

So why don’t I use it more often?  Instead I stretch myself to the breaking point, I build up frustration, and I collapse under pressure.

I know that at the end of the day, no one is going to congratulate me because I finished everything on my to-do list, and no one is standing by with a stopwatch to track how many moments I actually played with my kids.

But at the end of the day if I’ve been cruel with words or short with patience or drained with fatigue, there are four little pairs of eyes and ears who have noticed and who have been hurt and who deserve better.

So if better means that sometimes I take a break from being a mommy to spend some time alone, or with the Lord, or with my friends, or even with their daddy that is being a great mother.

Do you hear me?  Take a break.  Don’t be a martyr.  The laundry will always be around, the puzzles will eventually get put together, and most kids delight in being left with someone else for a bit, especially if that someone else has different toys or books or snacks.

When I chose to embrace the wonder that is motherhood, I also chose to accept that somedays I would need to walk away from crying and diapering and whining.


And He said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a lonely place and rest a while.” For there were many people coming and going, and they did not even have time to eat.        

~Mark 6:31

Isn’t that a picture of motherhood?  Jesus knew.  He knew what it was to be pressed in on all sides and to need a moment to breathe.  He knew what it was to have no time to even eat.
So put yourself in time-out every now and then.  Breathe.  Eat.  Sleep.  Rest
faith · motherhood

When We Just Want It to Matter

I was on top of my game yesterday.  Managed jazzy childcare, grocery store with both little ones (and stayed in budget), homemade bread in the oven and dinner in the crockpot, middle school play practice with all four, homework done, bath for peed-on-herself Millie, Community Bible Study with a completed lesson, rough draft of blog for today, endured screaming baby for an hour without having a breakdown myself.  Like I said,  got this.

Enter Tuesday.

Usually Tuesday doesn’t mess with me so much.  It’s quieter than Monday and a lot less hectic because I’m down three kids,  instead of the usual two, thanks to church preschool.  Gus naps a lot and I write a lot or plan a lot or pinterest things I’ll never do.  But this week I had resolved not to waste my time, but rather to make the most of it, to treat this gift of a couple uninterrupted hours during morning nap as my scheduled work time.  I don’t want to just play with these words anymore, I want to use them for good.  So, I had a plan.

Someday I’m going to stop expecting my plans to work out like I expect.

Bet you can guess the worse glitch in my plan—
the wonder of technology.  Everything I was going to work on centered on my access to the internet.  It’s where all my posts are archived, where I monitor submission requirements, where I find ideas for promoting what I’m trying to do.  And it’s how I keep up with really important information, you know, like what my sister had for dinner and when my friends are watching Downton Abbey.

Except the all-consuming internet was down.  Again.  Our line through the phone company is known for being unreliable and not working if it’s sunny.  Or cloudy.  Or rainy.  Or windy.  Basically, it’s a never-ending problem.  We’ve been signed up for the new fiber optic network since Thanksgiving, but hadn’t been turned on, so when I realized the connection was out again, I was readied to call both companies and complain.  Then, out of the blue, electrician man turns up to connect the service!  I figured God was smiling on me.  (Electrician man also admitted they had lost our request somehow.  Knew we should have been calling more.)

However, if you know me, you know I’m not tech savvy in the least.  My solution is always just to turn something off and then back on, and if that doesn’t work, I leave it up to my husband.  The man’s a saint about this, really.  Because when I couldn’t use either connection this morning after following tech support directions and my own bumbling instincts, he got the weepy call.

Of course I cried.  I cried because I was frustrated, I felt stupid, I felt inadequate, and I had that enemy who sows seed of doubt whispering in my ear: See?  It doesn’t matter what you do.  What you think is important is nothing compared to those who have real jobs, who are making a paycheck, who are supporting their family.

Since I’ve become a stay-at-home mom that’s been the hardest voice to ignore.  The taunt that what I do doesn’t matter.  That blogging about the grace in my trials, that planning seven days of meals, that clipping coupons and shopping sales, that baking instead of buying, and consigning instead of spending, all these things I do right now to fill my days and feed my family spiritually, physically, and emotionally matter to no one but me.

But they do matter.  They do make a difference.  They do build my family in a way that I wasn’t doing before. What I do is important to me, and, I believe it is, therefore, important to my God.  He heard my rant this morning and He felt my tears, and He assured my soul that this season He has called me to is for His glory, even in my mess.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.
1 Peter 5:6-11 ESV

I think here it’s easy to feel like the motherhood routine doesn’t matter, especially when seen in the light of the suffering and poverty fellow mothers face around our world everyday.  But I promise–
Today, whatever you do matters.  It matters to the ones who have skinned knees and messy backpacks and leftover lunches and snot noses and swinging ponytails.  It matters to your family.  And it matters to God.  
Who knows?  Maybe what Jesus is doing with you today will change the world 50 years from now instead of 50 days, but the point is, it will change and you will be part of the plan.

What you do matters.  To God.  To your family.  To me.
Rock on mamas, He’s got this.  We matter.

motherhood

Because Sometimes You Just Break

I thought this tonight when I had to hit my knees on the worn carpet and bury my face in the armchair so that only God could hear me cry.

Sometimes motherhood breaks something inside you.

She’ll be three years old tomorrow and tonight I indulged and read more than “just one more” and put her back so many times and tried and tried again and finally broke.  I shook my fist and I spanked in anger and she wailed and I broke.

Yet, even in the shattering she reached out to me.  She held out a hand, still baby chubby three years later, and I gathered her up against me and begged forgiveness.  She hugged that little arm with dimples at its elbows and marker on its fingers around my neck and gulped quiet sobs and nodded when I said, “Forgive, mama, please?”

Breaking.  It hurts.  It burns to realize I sometimes teach forgiveness by having to ask for it.  

But, in all that ugliness, she was reaching out to me.  Jesus in a child-baby.

Grace in a toddler’s hand.

Have you read this post today?  I found it at just the right moment, when these words were already formed in my mind.  Another one of His thousand gifts.

motherhood · Top 10 Tuesday

For All You New Mamas

I’ve gotten this reputation lately as possibly being someone who might actually have some facts about motherhood figured out because I have four kids.

Isn’t it funny how the more kids you have, the more people think you know because they assume you have so much more experience than them?  I tend to think people with less children than me have the elusive “it” all figured out because they are clicking right along and being all happy-go-lucky with their full-night’s sleep and one load of laundry a day selves.  Me, I’m still trying to find my keys and thinking about washing the crock-pot from two days ago that’s still in the sink.

But you know, I believe that if anyone thinks I know anything about this journey, they think that because of where I am now.  Which is in a place where I understand that no one ever has it together all of the time

So whether you’re a first time mama or a mama like me who still felt like a first time mama every time another baby was laid all sticky and squalling on my chest, this is for you.  Some thoughts and tips I’ve gleaned from four times of bleary eyes and sleepless nights and early precious moments.


1.  You will sleep again.  Somewhere in between the newborn nighttime feedings and the toddler bed-wetting and the six-year growing pains, you will sleep.  It will happen.  Maybe it won’t be soon enough.  Maybe it won’t be often enough.  Maybe it won’t be constant.  But you will sleep.  I promise.
2.  You need to take a shower.  How water.  Fruity or spicy or just clean smelling soap.  A few minutes of quiet in a place where you can’t hear the baby cry.  Five minutes is long enough to make you feel better, and sometimes this is an even better than a nap.
3.  You will feel better if you get dressed.  I know, that seems counter-productive.  You only have so much time and I just told you to take a shower and get dressed.  But it works, I swear.  Something about real clothes and earrings and a hairbrush will help you start to feel normal and just slightly less sleep-deprived.
4.  You shouldn’t feel guilty about asking for help.  Don’t be a martyr. We weren’t meant to do this alone. It’s okay to ask for help.  People want to help you.  Well, they want to hold that new baby and they’re usually willing to fold a basket of laundry in exchange.
5.  You can let babies sleep somewhere other than a crib.  I’m not looking for an argument here about the best sleep patterns.  I’m just being real with you.  My last two spent the first three months of their lives sleeping in a swing.  Both had sinus and reflux problems that meant sleeping flat was misery for them and for me.  You reach a point where you need to sleep for at least a four hour chunk and if you can get that by putting baby somewhere other than his bed, do it and don’t stress.  Gus sleeps in his bed now and has been there for almost five months.  It’s a short term fix that won’t hurt anyone in the long run.
6.  You don’t have to have everything done your way.  When I have a baby, my mom stays for at least a week.  She cooks incredible meals to make me produce lots of breastmilk, brews more coffee than we drink in a month, washes all the dishes every night, and folds my husband’s socks wrong.  Who cares?  She has a way and most of my ways are hers (learned behavior, you know), but if she does something differently than me, guess what? It’s still done and I didn’t have to do it.
7.  You can survive on frozen pizza and Stouffers.  Once the meal train stops and the cashier at Chic-fil-a knows you by name, you can opt for the ease of frozen casseroles in the oven.  Not only is that simple, look at you, you made dinner!
8.  You won’t be a packmule for more than a couple of months.  You know how to spot a new mom?  The size of her diaper bag.  But take heart, you might feel like you have to take everything so you’re prepared for anything, but eventually you will discover the few things that are necessary and embrace the small crossover bag. Or just toss a diaper in your purse and be on your way!
9.  You can leave the baby and you’re not a bad mom.  When Gus was about two weeks old, I left him with his daddy and went to the salon by myself and got a shampoo and cut.  It was heaven.  When I came back home, I not only felt better physically, I felt better mentally and could once again cope.  So if you have someone you trust, even if it’s just for an hour, even if it’s just to go buy diapers, leave and know you’ll come back a better mom for it.
10.  You might think everyone else is doing motherhood better than you, but that’s not true.  You were meant to mother this child.  Just you.  No one else.  So what everyone else is doing is what works for them, you do what works for you.  I promise, somewhere somebody thinks you’re the one who has it together because you really do.

Linking up with Many Little Blessings.

Friday Five · motherhood

Cancelled Again {five minute friday}

It happened again last night.  The one stop call that tells us school is cancelled in our little neck of the woods because of the possibility of inclement weather.

I’m pretty sure Northerners chuckle at us over that.  If they care to notice at all that northeast Georgia is getting a bit of ice on roads and back decks and front patios.

So again.  Just like last Friday.  Extra hours at home.  Which is fine.  Which is great.  Which is sweet if I’m in the right mood to just enjoy some extra time with my girls and their artistic temperaments and their love of 80s shows on Netflix.

Except I wasn’t really. I’m in an organizing mood. A cleaning mood.  A clear out the cobwebs kind of mood.  Doesn’t really work with a houseful of ornery kids.

Again I pick up the toys.  Again she dumps out the box of My Little Ponies and packs them into the carrying case for the American Girl dolls.  Again I sort the legos from the zoobles from the Happy Meal toys and again I find them scattered all over the house, a trail of breadcrumbs from the kitchen to the bedrooms to the hiding places under the computer desk.  Again I sweep the floor and again he drops puffs and bits of bread just to see them fall.  Again I stack the books spine to the edge of the shelf for easy access only to find them piled beside the bed and shoved between the couch cushions.

Again, again, again.

Yet I keep trying, I keep hoping, I keep believing that if I just fix it again, this time it will stay put away.  

Someday that will work, and then, am I really going to be wishing to do this all over again?

Five Minute Friday