Impromptu TP Craft...

So I was going to the trash can to throw away some empty toilet paper rolls, and this happened.

I think when the glue dries, I'll spray paint it black and hang it somewhere.  This was so not on my list of things to accomplish today.  I need me a t-shirt that says "Help, I'm crafty and easily distracted!"

I know, my countertop is a nasty mess.  Try to focus, people.

"Writer"

Occasionally someone reads something I've written and says to me, "Oh, you should really be a writer."  And I am dumbfounded by this information.  Formulating... formulating...  Nope, I have no response.

To me, this is akin to saying "oh you should really be a Cajun."  A writer is something I was born, am, and will continue to be until I can no longer process a coherent thought.  I write from the moment my eyes open each morning.  Now if you mean that I should be a journalist, that's different.  And no, thank you.  I don't write well on assignment.  I write what my soul says, no requires, that I write. And you know what?  Of the bazillion poems and essays/blurbs/strings of thought I've put down over the years.. maybe someday a few dozen will be gathered up and mass printed on giant machines, and then you can say I was a "writer." 

Until then, you may call me what you wish.  I'll be writing.  :)

On Pits

I'm going to write about some things here today that may have less to do with motherhood and more to do with just being human.  And maybe it's not particularly fitting for a "mom blog," but life does happen, even to moms, and life doesn't always fit in a neat little package.  The point of writing is to share life's truth, even if it's a little uncomfortable, on the off chance that somebody out there is going through the same mess.

Looking back, it seems like having these kids was all I ever wanted to do.  Frankly, I didn't think very far past the motherhood milestone.  I vaguely remember going to school and majoring in psychology, wanting to work with children, but somewhere along the way I met my husband and my maternal drive kicked in.  Forget school, I wanted babies, and lots of 'em.  They would be my life and that would be all I needed.  Well as it turned out my body wasn't so good at making babies or carrying them. So when I finally managed to have two and escape with my life, I closed up shop. Two is a good round number, I would just devote all my energy to meeting these little people's needs and THAT would be my life.  But the years go by and little by little those babies get more independent and less needy for mama.  Sure they need you around but they don't need you the way they did when they had poopy diapers and sippy cups. And one day the last baby goes off to kindergarten and you're sitting in an empty house trying to remember who the heck you are and what it was you even enjoy.   I mean, I like coffee and chocolate and shopping the clearance rack at target but there's got to be more to me, right?  Let me stop right here and point out that this phenomenon is NOT in any way, shape or form related to a phenomenon called boredom.  There's plenty of housework/chores to be done, but there's also plenty of time to do them.  And if you're not careful all this free time and emptiness will get you into trouble. 

You see, the world is chocked full of opportunities to fill your hours, your mind and all your appetites, but 90% of it is no good for you. Oh it looks wholesome on the outside and it tastes great, but so did that apple in the garden of Eden.  That kind of fruit doesn't satisfy for long, but just leaves you hungrier, and ultimately causes pain.  And pain for you means pain to those around you, like ripples on a pond.  Before you know it you've fallen in a pit with no clear exit, and it was so darned easy to fall you missed the entrance.  I think sadly the hallmark of this decade may be that never before has it been so incredibly EASY to do so incredibly much harm.

The thing is, moms are not immune from pits. Even church-going, God-fearing, husband-loving SAHM moms. If anything, at-home moms are more vulnerable than anyone at this turning point in our lives.  But that's not to say working moms are immune either.  I've seen far too many marriages ripped apart in recent years because mommy met someone who made her feel alive, just as the youngest child went to kindergarten.  It's no coincidence. We've got to help each other stop falling into this trap. 

If your babies are still little and you don't know what I'm talking about, get ready. Chances are you will. I wish all the pits were clearly marked with danger signs, but they're not. Be aware of your own vulnerability and seek to protect yourself and your family at all costs. Surround yourself with supportive Christian friends who love both you AND your husband. Do something creative every day.  Think about what you have to offer the world, and consider going back to school for that new career.  Listen to your spirit-gut, not your greedy gut.  If it feels wrong, run.  And keep running.  It's not worth it.  Seek counseling if you need it, preferably before you need crisis counseling.

 While you're at it, take time to get reacquainted with that man living in your house.. you know the one you vowed to cherish above all things?  Maybe the priorities got out of order for a while.  That's natural.  The squeaky wheel gets the grease as they say, and let's face it, kids are squeaky.  Let him know you're back, and be patient as he adjusts to your newfound availability to him.

If you're reading this and you already know all about pits, because you're sitting in the bottom of one now, or someone close to you is, I highly recommend the book by Beth Moore, aptly titled "Get Out of That Pit."  It's never too late. Take it from me. There is life, bountiful life, after even the deepest of pits.  No matter how many times you fell back in.  There is healing for even the most wounded marriage.  There's always, always hope. And HOPE, dear sisters, does not disappoint.

Hope - What Warriors Are Made of

You say you're disappointed, disillusioned, and life has let you down?  You say your life has been so tough, you've given up hope that things will ever change?  Well I'm sorry, but I don't buy it.


Let me tell you about disappointment.
Let me tell you about life repeatedly slapping you down.  And hoping anyway.

Suppose the one thing you want in life is to have a child.  You pray for a child, finally conceive and carry the child for 7 months and go through 15 hours of labor,  but ultimately just get to hold that stillborn baby for five groggy minutes and have a funeral in an ice storm.  You listen to everyone say it will be okay, wasn't meant to be, yadda yadda, try again. Six months later, you successfully conceive again.  But another month goes by and-- oops, misplaced embryo, this one's dying too.  No wait, its not dying fast enough, and you could die from a rupture, let's start chemo to kill it faster. So your hair falls out. Lovely. 

No problem, you'll just try again. A year goes by. Then two.  Maybe good things don't happen to those who wait-- maybe you have to make them happen.  So you head over to the fertility clinic, shots every day, feel like a pin cushion, procedures and blood tests, rinse/repeat, trying to hope each month, but fearing more disappointment.  Finally at last good news.. you're having twins!  Or you were, but sorry, you lost one.  And two months later, the other.  Folks, that's when you feel like giving up.  That's when you start to lose all faith that there is any good out there. But something inside says no, give it one more try.  Hope a little longer.  So you do it all again.. like a zombie going thru the motions... more shots, more pain.  Holding on to that shred of hope.  Four years of this insanity.  Four years of walking by an empty nursery.  Every. Day.

Now they say it worked?  Okay.  You dare to hope a little more.  Wait for the bad news. No bad news comes. Except that now you have to live in a hospital for a month because you have some rare super-sickness.  But death is not coming for this one, and you feel better, and its a boy, and so you start to hope more, until.. You get a new kind of sick.  And sicker.  And he stops growing.  And you're back in that same hospital at seven months along again, hoping against hope that you don't end up with another tiny coffin.  Then one by one, your organs start shutting down--your vision goes next.  This time they say you're circling the drain.  One or both of you is not going to make it.  But in the blackness, somehow you choose to hope and believe a miracle is still possible.

So they take the baby by c-section, and you go into seizures on the operating table.  Usually such seizures are followed shortly by coma and death.  But not this time.  No, this is the hope finish line.  This is where the tide turns--where patience and prayer finally pay off, and all that blind faith is rewarded at last.  A few weeks later there you are, walking out of the hospital, healthy, with a healthy baby boy and a second chance at life.

Yes, life is tough-- It's brutal!  You've got to be tougher.  I refuse to believe any situation is ever hopeless.  There is just no such thing, only people who give up.  Yes, good things do come in time, but a lot of pain comes too.  And sometimes the wait is longer than you ever planned.  In the meantime you have to do your best and believe that the good in this world will always be stronger than the bad.  That the pain will only make you stronger, more human, so someday you can comfort and strengthen someone else.  And when good things do come, they're better than you ever imagined.

Maybe just to confirm that the lesson was over, that I'd passed that test, God threw in a little extra surprise for me a few years later. Easy as pie.  No more roller coasters, no super-sickness.  Just sweet rewards.  I think the bottom line is that sometimes fate completely shifts when you least expect it.  Listen.  Our Creator loves to reward his faithful ones.  He loves to reward those who choose to hope when they have absolutely no reason to, who tap into HIS strength when they feel like crumbling.  In His time, with His strength, you will see His rewards. I promise. 

People ask me all the time why I'm so optimistic. Simple answer?  Because I have walked in dark places and learned to look for light.  And when there was none, I've learned to feel the walls-- and walk on in the dark.  If I can hope, anyone can.


"Consider it pure joy, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)

"Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that has been promised to him." (James 1:5-7, 9, 12)

 "And we boast in this hope we have. But we also boast in our sufferings, because we know that it produces perseverance; perseverance produces character; and character produces hope. And hope does NOT disappoint."   (Romans 5:2-5)

 

 

There are soccer moms, there are baseball moms, and then there are those of us who march to a slightly different drum.  We are the few, the proud.  We are the Kung Fu Mamas. 

 

Three days a week, rain or shine, 52 weeks a year, we load up our little warriors and head for the dojo.   We know the difference between a saber and a staff, an orange belt and a green, a Se Fon Se Be and a Kuhn leKuhn.  We can tell you where you left your nunchuks, tie your belt with our eyes closed, and threaten you in sign language through a plexiglass window.   We've cheered through the neverending rank test, felt the pain of the 3-minute horse stance, and screamed with pride when our child, or any child, broke his first board. 

 

We stick together.  We entertain eachothers kids in the lobby. We are a nontraditional breed, we keepers of the stinky sparring gear--a clan of warrior parents encouraging modern kids to master an ancient art.   We've had our share of broken lamps, and we don't always feel like sacrificing our Saturdays, but we believe that discipline and self control are lessons worth learning.   We believe hard work and physical training dont have to involve tossing a ball.   We are the Kung Fu Mamas.   Don't mess with us, and for sure don't mess with our kids.   We may just have a few moves of our own.

Dead Woman Walking

Two more days of life as I know it. Two more days, and half of one is gone. Slow down clock!  So much freedom, so much peace and quiet to soak up before it's gone, nothing but a distant memory. This Friday is the day. D-day. The beginning of ...*GASP* ... SUMMER break! **[insert blood curdling scream]** Yes, I prayed for these children, begged the Lord to send me these offspring. Yes, I adore them (separately, in small doses especially). Yes, I'm thankful for them. But I'm also not ashamed to admit that being a full time Mom is hard work. That 7 and 10 year old boys will wear you out. That I have been spoiled rotten for the past 9 months and am completely utterly not ready for what is about to take place. I will of course make the best of it. I will put on my big girl panties and assume the role of 24/7 entertainment coordinator. I will put on my warrior helmet and forge into the kitchen to become short order cook, referee, spiritual coach, and shaper of young men. I will put on my swimsuit to splash in the pool with them. I will drive them to the movies and the spraypark and the library and wherever else we can dream up a field trip in the triple digit heat. But just for the record, I'm going to be tantruming on the inside, at least for the first week. Because, just like the rest of my school-age SAHM sisterhood, I'm going to be secretly mourning the untimely death of the girl I used to know, lazy spoiled princess though she was-- that carefree girl who enjoyed things called naps, and quiet time, and solo trips to Target.

I just love Saturday. 

That is all.  Carry on.