{motherhood} things I love, and don't

things that are hard


Discipline. I hate disciplining them. Gracie has been going through another testing phase lately. Pushing against the rules that bind her to being three-almost-four, trying to be more independent, assert her own desires and will.

That is natural. It is understandable. I don't like being bossed around either. But I had to have my turn there, and that is how this part goes. So there have been lots of consequences, lots of time outs, and I even sat on the floor and cried after she went to bed one night. Where is my sweet, lovely girl, and what have I done to force her away?

Steve told me I haven't done anything wrong. That it is just a phase. I know that, in my mind, but so much of mothering goes on in your heart, doesn't it?

She is already talking about how I won't be in charge of her when she is eighteen.

And I just keep thinking... don't be in such a hurry to grow up....

those things are hard. But there are so many things I love.


things I love

The smell of their hair when its all dried off after a bath.

Their laughter in another room; that it means they are playing happily together, unrefereed, and that their love has lit the other up from the inside.

How Charlie backs up into my lap now with a book in his chubby hands and says, "Book! Book" until I read, and, when we finish, says, "Book! Book!" until I read it again.

Finding toys set up around the house after bedtime or during naptime. Last night a plastic horse stood sentinel outside Charlie's bedroom door as he slept.

When they are kind to someone else, on their own, when they don't know I am watching.

How Gracie worries for anyone who is injured.

When she makes a connection between a word we've read in morning scripture study and the real world and shouts something like, "WILDERNESS!?!?! THAT'S LIKE IN THE SCRIPTURES!!!!!!!!"

That pleased little smile babies get when they accomplish something new. Proud of themselves. The I-did-it smile.

Their cheeks. I could kiss their cheeks all day long. I do. Every time I pick them up, I kiss their cheeks.

How they lay their heads on my shoulder when they're tired.

How they both insist on cramming themselves onto my lap--together--when we read.

When they lean back against me during a good story and relax into the moment.

How Gracie wants to be like me, dress like me, wear chapstick and brush her hair. How she beams under praise. How she loves hard and fiercely, like I do. How I know her so well, because she is so much like me.

Charlie's mischievous smile, the aw-come-on-just-one-more-time! smile that steals across his face when I've caught him climbing up the couch or pushing the button on a forbidden electronic device.

How they hug my legs.

How Gracie draws pictures of me, and tells me I "look like a doll" and tells her daddy that he "looks so handsome."

How sweet they look when they sleep.

How happy/bubbly/energetic they are in the morning.

How Gracie always tries to climb into bed with me when she wakes us up (the MINUTE her clock says 7:00).

{motherhood} : survival mode

I had intended to do lots of things last month, not just try to abandon yelling. But life goes so slow sometimes, and so fast others. February was the month of everyone being sick. An ear infection, pink eye, colds, stomach flu and another (or continuation of the previous?) ear infection, all crammed in to three weeks, each of us effected by at least two of the listed items.

survival mode is okay.

Did you know that?

I have to remind myself of it periodically. That some days as long as everyone is fed and wearing a clean diaper/undies and we've tried our best to be nice, that is good enough to mark the day as a good one. Maybe dinner was Cheerios. Maybe we watched Sid the Science Kid before bed because Mommy couldn't bring herself to read another story. But when everything is falling apart at the seams, that is okay. When it comes to order and homekeeping, I tend to be a little more Lucy Ricardo than June Cleaver anyway. Or at least, I'd much rather be Lucy than June.

Though the hubs has yet to yell at me in Spanish.

Anyway sometimes when things suddenly feel really hard and I am just completely incapable of accomplishing one more thing, I look around and assess the situation. Last month the kids were sick. On occasion, I am hit with a month-long battle: my sunny disposition versus my ever-threatening issues with depression. Or maybe the hubs is doing a difficult rotation, and is just gone a lot. I look at these things, and that my kids are still laughing and eating crayons or what have you, and then I give my self permission to just survive for a few more days, and I put my head down and we get through it.

Survival mode is okay. And a good thing, too.

{motherhood} #1: speak softly.

source

I came across this little number last month, during my daily pilgrimage (okay, one of many daily pilgrimages) through Pinterest. I felt like I'd just smashed face-first into a wall.

The kids got up from their naps, and things went poorly in the obedience department, and the more I thought about this quote the more horrified I became, because, despite my best intentions I realized that I had become a yeller.

It kind of made me sick to my stomach, to be honest. Putting those sweet things to bed that night, kissing my sleeping girlie when I went in to put her blankets back on before I went to bed. How could I yell at these kids? But I did. Frequently.

no yelling.

So my first focus has been simple: no yelling. My kids were kind of getting immuned to it (I hate admitting this, but there it is), and that is BAD because what if there is a car about to clip them or something that a good yell could call attention to, and they don't listen to it because Mom always yells?

speaking softly


I love Proverbs. It is just full of good advice. Like this in 15:1:

A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.

I'm trying this, too. To speak softly--use my "indoor voice" if you will. A lot of times that means I have to walk down the hall to stop a fight instead of just yelling for someone to stop it!!! And sometimes it means I am bodily carrying someone to timeout instead of yelling them there.

But it also means that my kids are hearing more, instead of just reacting to volume. Especially my tender girl, who is so so in tune to people's feelings already. I think it is important to get down on her level, look into her eyes, and really talk to her about things.

So step one, for me, is no yelling--speak softly.

Well. Unless there's a fire. Or a really cool trash truck they have to run to the front door to see.