Pass or fail.

I am so tired. Not physically, but mentally.

I am tired of grading myself all of the time.

House not perfectly clean- fail.

Kids eating a Happy Meal for dinner- fail.

Kids watching too much tv- fail.

Eating too many cookies- fail.

Not being thinner- fail.

Wanting to nap instead of do laundry- fail.

Not being as fun/sexy/cute as I used to be for my husband- fail.


I am exhausted. EXHAUSTED.

I have good kids. I have a good husband. I know this. And I know I put alot of myself into these relationships- but it just never feels like enough.

There's not enough of myself to have anything left for myself.

I am so weary. I love my life. I am SO blessed. But at times, I feel deeply burdened by it all.

And that is a huge failure to me.

What is wrong with me, that I cannot see anything beyond the failures?

I look at my beautiful clean house and only see the laundry waiting to be folded. I look at my sweet happy kids and only see the messy face or the stained clothing.

I need to learn to LOOK BEYOND what I see.

To see that my daughter is loved not just by me, but by everyone. Because she is sensitive and nurturing and kind. - Success

That my son is strong and fearless and loving.- success

That my relationship with my husband is close and safe and we laugh ALOT.- success


That the time I would normally take making my house spotless is much better spent wrestling with Sam or coloring with Lily. -success

I don't know how other moms see themselves. I don't know if anyone else struggles with this. But I DO know that we are always our own worst critics. And what I can say about that is maybe we need to look at ourselves as God sees us.

He sees our heart. He sees our struggle to BE all TO all. He knows that at the heart and center of our lives are the children he gave us. I also believe that the internal dialogue berating myself for the unwashed dish or the piled up laundry makes Him sad.

So today is a day for changing. For loving on my kids and letting the house come in a distant second. For not pretending to be perfect. For not acting as if I have it all together. For being myself- with all of my flawed thinking- and knowing that as long as my kids and husband feel loved, I am doing the best job I can.

A trip to the grocery store with Mark

Produce:
Mark- WE NEED BANANAS!!!!!!
Me- *points silently to the bananas already in cart*
Mark- Oh.


Deli:
Mark- Oooooooo pancetta. Salami! Oooooo copocolla.
Me- We are getting HAM.
Mark- But...
Me- HAM!And lowfat cheese.
Mark- %$%^$#^&*(*$##%^&&*

Aisle 3:
Me- This chicken stock is less expensive. Let's get this one.
Mark- But it sucks.
Me- It doesn't suck, it just has no sodium.
Mark- Yeah, that sucks.
Me- I am trying to keep you HEALTHY!
Mark- I won't eat food that sucks. Sodium rules.


Aisle 5:
Me, consulting list and flyer-Okay, let's pick 4 cereals.
Mark looks up from his armful of Corn Pops, Apple Jacks, and Frosted Flakes.
Me- Oooookay. Now let's pick one for you and me.
Mark- *holds up a box of Apple Jacks* Duh!
Me- No way. Those are loaded with sugar.
Mark- They are healthy,see? APPLE jacks. APPLES.
Me- *sighs and takes down a box of bran buds*


Aisle 7:
Me- Lean Cuisines are on sale.
Mark- Let's get some.
Me- Dude, I will. But you have to promise me you won't eat them with Doritos.
Mark- Sorry, that's how I roll. I'm a foodie.
Me- Forget it.
Mark- Look, Hungry Man dinners. A GOOD sized portion.
Me- And an assload of sodium and fat.
Mark- And your point?


Aisle 9:
Me: Okay, help me pick out some frozen waf- Ummm honey?
Mark: Wha?
Me: Can you please stop licking the glass in front of the pizza rolls and help me?
Mark: No. I need a moment.




This has been grocery time with Bella. Tune in next week when hopefully I will be smart enough NOT to take my husband. Ahem.

Freaking Out!

I hate being sick. With a passion.

Well, not true actually. I hate the kinda sick where you can do NADA. Like just lay on the couch kinda sick.

And it's not because I feel bad, or because I am not well taken care of.

It's because I AM NOT IN CONTROL.

I am a serious control freak. About everything house and children related. I need to be in charge of it all.

And when I can't be it makes me nutso.

I love my husband. He is VERY good at jumping in and taking care of things on the few times I go down. He cooks, takes care of the kids, cleans up, etc.

But he doesn't do it my way. He does it HIS WAY.

And yesterday we had an arguement about it. I was annoyed with the way he did something. I told him. He very politely told me to stuff it.

He was right. (ouch) So I did. (double ouch)

And I thought about it alot. Why am I like this? Why the constant need to have everyone and everything under my thumb? MY way or the highway.

It's NOT an endearing quality, I assure you.

If the floor is dirty, I obsess over it. If the laundry is not caught up on, I cannot sleep. If the sinks have not been sanitized, I WILL scrub them at 3 in the morning. And I have NO CLUE why I am like this. It can't be much fun to live with.

So, friends, is anybody else rowing this same boat? Cause I kinda feel like a freak. A control freak, that is. Ahem.

Lily

We have had an emotional couple of days around here.

Little miss has been alternatively sad, tearful, upset, withdrawn, and quiet.

Too quiet.

Yesterday we went to the park. She rode her bike. Halfway through she turned to me with tears in her eyes and said "I'm sorry mommy, but my legs hurt." She then began crying.

I was torn. Do I encourage her to keep going so she can experience success? Or do I stop her, sit down on the cold pavement, and hold her?

I wanted to hold her. But I told her to keep going.

She did. She made it. But she cried the whole way.

The way home was way worse. She made it, again, with tears the whole way.

And in my heart I just kept praying..."Lord, be near to her. Be in her heart. Encourage her not to give up when things are hard. Help her to know it is so so worth it when you finish."

When we came home, I went to hug her and she stepped away.

"Mommy, I just want to go to my room and be alone."

I was floored. She has never ever not allowed me to comfort her.

I let her go, watching her through my own tears.

I sat just outside the doorway of her room, listening to my baby girl cry.

And my insides felt as if they would burst. My heart was in my throat. My own tears fell.

Soon the sounds of crying subsided.

I went to prepare dinner as I waited for her to come out.

And when she did, she was still tearful, but strong.

"I'm okay now mommy."

And she was.

This morning she was fragile. Quiet again.

I drove her to school, looking back at her a few times. She was staring out the window.

And my heart just wrenched...wondering- is this the point then? Is this where biology takes over and she becomes unstable and depressive? Is this when the bad cells I have passed to her make themselves known?

And if so, I will trample the world and anyone in it to make her better again. To make her soul and body a place she can live in with comfort. I will stand between her and whatever this is. I will take it on for her, and never stop until she is well.

I armed myself for battle in those minutes. I strengthened myself against feelings of self hatred for passing this monster into the sweetness of my girl's soul.

And then she spoke.

"Mama?"
"Yes love?"
"I was having a bad day yesterday."
"Yes."
"But today the sun is shining in my heart."

She got out of the car at school. I watched as she ran onto the playground. She stood for a few long seconds, pressed against the blue sky and the bright sun. Her back was to me.

Was she uncertain? Was she sad? Was she worried?

I prepared to get out of the car to check.

And she turned toward me, eyes lighting up as she saw a friend. They latched hands and ran toward the bright sun, laughter like music from their lips.

And God whispered into the dark recesses of my thoughts:

"Go. I am with her."

And I did.

The diff

Here's the dif between men and women in a nutshell.


This is what I need to hang a new bulletin board in the hallway:

hammer (or a shoe if the hammer is too far away)
nails
Diet Coke
10 minutes



This is what my husband needs to hang a new bulletin board:

Hammer
nails
screws
stabilizers
level
15 diff size nails
tape measure
a wide variety of new and interesting curse words
45 minutes

The result: exactly the same.

Ahem.

Friend...

I have this friend.

I sat across from her tonight at dinner while she ran herself down.

And my heart broke a little.

Because she is so utterly amazing.

She makes me smile just by being herself. She makes me laugh until I pee. She is kind and thoughtful. And she is beyond loyal.

And the things she runs herself down for...God they are just...nothing. Small. Insignificant in the amazingness that is her.

Nothing to ME, but huge to her.

And I wish I could tell her without crying how amazing she is. And how much I adore her. And how she fills this place in my life that I didn't know was so very empty.

And how wonderful of a mother she is. So thoughtful and so conscious of her words and deeds. How loving and protective.

She is amazing. She is wonderful. And I adore her and love her.

But I can't convince her. I can't make her see because she has been conditioned to think that her small flaws are WHO SHE IS.

And they are so not. Not even remotely.

She is gorgeous. She is somebody I can call at 3 in the morning. She is THERE. No matter what.

So how do I tell her these things, and how do I make her see what I see?

The beauty.

The intelligence.

The kindness that draws people to her.

The love she gives.

All of this is who she is...nothing else. Just these things.

God made her so beautiful. He made her perfect. And he gave her an amazing heart.

I love her so very very much.

And if she runs herself down again, I will tell her these things. No matter if it gets through or not. No matter that I can't talk through the tears that come because I can't believe she doesn't see what I see.

I wll tell her until she believes. And I will pray that God gives my words more weight than what her own mind tells her.

So.

I have nothing to say. But God is insisting I sit down and write. Even though I want to go to the fabric store. Or fill up another cup of coffee. Or pee.

But noooooooo. He's all kindsa bossy like that.

And so here I sit.

And so what can I tell you? I am currently sitting here with tissues up my nose. I have no makeup on and I smell rather funky. My stomach is sticking out and my shirt is way too tight.

I can hear my kids destroying their playroom.

But here I am Lord.

Obedient.

The picture of obedience. With tissues up my nose.

Ahem.

*twiddling thumbs*

You are afraid to be still.

Oh Lord.

Yes I am. Terrified of my own mind and what goes through it when I allow myself to rest. On a constant treadmill of go go go stay ahead of all of it.

Afraid to fail.

Afraid of being labelled lazy.

Afraid to think.

Afraid of myself and my thoughts and my own muddled imperfect mind and judgement.

AFRAID AFRAID AFRAID.

Afraid of the flashbacks that come.

Afraid of failing my children

Afraid of being 100 percent who I am, because what if I fall on my face?

Oh Lord in heaven, yes yes, I am afraid to be still.

And so I sit here. With this fear.








And in the space of hitting the space bar I have had 10 thoughts.

WhatarethekidsdoingIneedtocleangetupanddosomethingthehouseisamessyouareamessbeproductivehwyareyousittinglazylazylazy.

Yes, yes Lord. I am afraid to be still.

But it is in the moments when I slow down that I can commune with God as I feel I should. When I am sewing, watching stitches line up in rows. When I am cleaning, making my world neat and orderly. When I am vacuuming or dusting or writing, I feel Him.

But the moment I stop.

It all goes nutso in my head. The chaos ratchets up. The incessant murmuring that implores me to keep going, be more, do more, see more, be better, no failing cranks up to operatic proportions and I cannot see God for my own mess. It is like trying to reach through a raging ocean to touch Him.

And I cannot calm it.

So here I am. Afraid to be still. Afraid to be.

Afraid to be.

And this is what God has wanted me to say for so long. To recognize for so long.

I am afraid to be still. And that has to change.


Psalm 46:10
“Be still, and know that I am God"