Tag Archives: motherhood

All the life in between…

The beginning of the school year always feels like a whirlwind. For at least six weeks; beginning in mid-August, there is no way to catch your breath until the first week of October. And then that breath is usually more of a gasp for air than a steady intake of the life-giving stuff. And I LOVE my students and I love what I do and this is not about all the time I don’t have—rather, it is about all the time I don’t want to miss.

As summer comes to an end, I am always filled with a sense that all the fun is coming to an end. And, in a sense, many of the things I love about summer simply can’t continue year-long. Leisurely breakfasts with my boys, spontaneous mid-day trips to the zoo, luxuriously quiet mid-morning trips to the grocery store, and spur of the moment trips to visit a friend need to make way for structures and schedules and school. In our house, two teachers and two little scholars (preschool and first grade) mean school nights are serious and school mornings are no joke! Our summers are luxurious and afford us endless times together as a family—the school year cuts that down to about two hours a day in which we need to eat, do homework, and accomplish  all the other chores and joys of life. I am grateful for our summers and aware of how blessed we are to have them—but I still mourn the loss of my family time each fall.

And every year, I try to remind myself that school starting doesn’t mean our family time needs to end: that following my life’s calling by day doesn’t mean I need to abandon my life’s calling by night.

I am always looking to document the joy in my journey: I am constantly photographing this adventure called life. And last Monday I took a pic of my boys mid a hectic post-school grocery run and thought: “There it is! These are the moments that make our life together ours. We might only have a few hours together as a family today, but these are the hours we’ll remember.” So this past week, I decided to intentionally document proof of my life outside of the school day.  I kept taking a picture a day for perspective—and I found that I had a lot of living and loving to do outside of my work days.


I recognize that I have the luxury of spending my summers and weekends with my family, but I also get to live the exhausted realities of every day life with them as well.

Tuesday’s image, enjoying a popsicle while wrapped in a blanket, made me smile and is not unlike the daily work-life balancing act. It can be a balancing act and a challenge to find enjoyment in the little things (like a popsicle on the porch); especially if the moment comes with logistical challenges (such as wrapping a blanket around you to make the night a bit less autumnal and a bit more reminiscent of summer). But it is worth the work to find that balance. And, often, the challenge isn’t in the work of manipulating logistics but rather it is in the art of perception: in simply acknowledging the joys that are already there and in the moments waiting to be found good.

Perfect

I did not get much sleep last night…or the night before.  Keilan’s sleep patterns have been true to his three-year-old-self lately.  Often he is up for HOURS wanting nothing more than to bounce and play and read and sing and…. And in the few short moments where he rests quietly, inevitably, something like his brother’s cold symptoms will keep us awake. A few months ago, one particular night, Keilan was up NUMEROUS (a term used to describe a number that is at once large and also ambiguous due to exhaustion and frustration) times screaming and crying: “It hurts! It hurts! Mom, help me!!!”  After NUMEROUS attempts to console him, I came to the conclusion that there was really nothing I could do to “help,” and Keilan was entirely unable or unwilling to tell me what the “it” was that was hurting him.  But the most absurd thing happened the following morning as I was reflecting on the sleep I had (or had not had) the previous night: the most ridiculous word came to mind.  In my mind I qualified the sleep as short, disjointed, insufficient…and perfect.

If a sleepless night with unhappy boys does not sound perfect to you, I understand. I blame my three-year-old for causing the word “perfect” to come to my mind.  He has an incredible ability to see the perfection in the imperfect around us each day.

We recently stayed with a friend of ours who had moved into a rental property while looking for a more permanent place.  While staying at his home, he listed off all of the reasons he was hesitant to stick with this property; all of the things that he would choose differently in his next home.  Also, being new to this home, his furniture was sparse, and so I had my messy, little boys sit on the floor in the kitchen when it was time for them to eat.  Uncle Adam, as my boys call him, is kind and compassionate; but I still didn’t want to risk a mess on his carpeted dining room floor.  A large cardboard box served nicely as a table, and the boys were thoroughly impressed with their mealtime set-up.  Keilan found this to be the best thing that had ever happened, and one morning, around bites of blueberry muffin, he informed me: “Uncle Adam has a perfect house.”  And so it was.  It was filled with friends and family and fun…and it was perfect.  Maybe the split-level set-up was a little unusual, maybe the space was larger than necessary, maybe the empty walls were looming, but it was the location of our little-boy-approved breakfast picnic and it was “perfect.”

Often Keilan reminds us of all the perfection around us. After a recent trip out of town, Keilan sat out on our deck admiring the way the wood in the deck was a little “squishy” and the particular way the paint on the side of the house was peeling.  “Mom. Our house is perfect.  It is builded. And it is perfect.”  Keilan, in his insightful way, declared our imperfect home “perfect” in all its imperfections simply because it existed, it was “builded,” and it was ours. And though it is easy for me to see all the things our house is lacking; when I glimpse through his three-year-old lens, focused in on the family that fills our home, I can see its perfection as well.

If you are feeling overcome with feelings of discontent, I dare you to spend a day with my little man.  When traveling in the car with him, he will declare each hill you come to as, “The biggest hill EVER!” And he will accept the blueberry donut you hand him with the most winsome grin and declare: “That’s the special one ever.” (In those exact, grammatically incorrect words that speak of his youth and sweet sincerity.)  And I know, from experience, that you will grin from ear to ear and your heart will be full when he announces from the backseat of the van: “Mommy, you know what favorite letter I love? The letter ‘G’!!! That’s the perfect one for me!”

The word “perfect” can mean many things. One of Webster’s definitions of the word reads: “As good as it is possible to be.” And while I am pretty sure that there are things I would change about my current, sleepless nights; I have also come to appreciate another definition: “Highly suitable for someone or something; exactly right.”  I have come to accept this definition of perfection because that same little boy who has kept me awake so many nights, has also taught me about looking past annoyance and declaring perfection.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am exhausted.  I would REALLY, REALLY, REALLY appreciate a good night’s sleep; and maybe a few hours “away” from my little guys to rest and recoup my energy.  But as I reflect on the annoyances of being kept awake night after night, I am overcome by the love I have for my little boys, by the great privilege it is to be the one that they call for in the middle of the night, and by the possibility that even my sleep-deprived, caffeine-induced existence just might be “perfect.”

I will choose to find joy in this sleepless part of my journey as I embrace the belief that these boys, this time of life, and the challenges that they bring are “exactly right” for me. After all, as much as I may think I know what is “perfect” for me, I have found time and again that God’s plans are greater than mine. And when I trust in Him to lead me, I am reassured by the words of Jeremiah 29:11, “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Image

No, they don’t share a bed. But this photo still somehow captures how my three-year-old feels about sleep…

Opportunities Given and Hugs Received

I believe that joy is found in the journey; not just in the destinations. And what makes that joy along the way so great is that sometimes we find it in places where we least expect it, and at times when we aren’t necessarily experiencing joy’s conditional counterpart, happiness.

Friday afternoon, I received a, “Just thought you should know,” text from my childcare provider; warning me that Keilan had been coughing and sneezing all afternoon.  He seemed ok when I went to pick him up.  But he slept all the way home, and after I carried him in the house, he didn’t want to move from his daddy’s lap. Before dinner, I realized that he had a low-grade fever and by the next morning, he was undeniably “sick.”  In fact, he spent most of the weekend crying. He laid on the couch silently sobbing, occasionally calling out: “Mommy, I no feeling so well.”  And, “Mommy, help!  Why you not making me feel better?”  It has been a long weekend.  Which brings me to that joy that finds you in those moments that are not particularly happy…

My Little Man <3 So Miserable... But Still So Cute

My Little Man ❤
So Miserable…
But Still So Cute

Last night, Patrick and I were planning to go out with friends.  I had my sister lined up to watch the boys.  I was definitely looking forward to a night out.  A night out would have made me happy.  But I sent Patrick out instead, rocked Kai to sleep for the night, and hunkered down with my three-year-old guy for a long night of anything-I-can-do-to-make-Keilan-feel-better.  And there we were.  I felt some joy, even as I sent Patrick on his way, at the opportunity I have been given to be “Mom:” to be the one that Keilan would inevitably cry for and to be the one who just might be able to bring him some comfort simply by being there with him.  But don’t get me wrong, I was also very disappointed to be missing out on time with friends. And I was exhausted.

My little guy cried and cried and cried. He finally fell asleep, but his sleep was fitful and only lasted for an hour.  When he woke up, his temperature was high and he shivered violently, crying inconsolably.  I fought back tears of my own as I would have done anything to make my little man feel better; this was not a happy time. And then, right there, in the middle of all that sadness; joy.  As I helped Keilan get dressed after a quick, cooling bath, he threw his arms around my neck, and whispered: “I wuv you, Momma.”  His sweet, unsolicited proclamation of love took me by surprise, and I returned his hug with a heartfelt: “I love you too, Baby.”  And then, he squeezed me a little tighter and began singing, “I wuv you. You wuv me. We’re a happy family…” and then he trailed off with a sigh; placing his head on my shoulder.  And there it was: joy.  I didn’t make it out with my friends, I was (and still am!) utterly exhausted from sleep lost the last two nights, and it was devastating to see my little man so miserable.  However, in that moment, I found joy in my journey.

There might be more to say, and more to think, but for now…I am just embracing that moment of joy in a weekend that was not-so-fun.  I am grateful for the opportunity to be Mom.  I will treasure that late-night moment of love that I shared with my little man.  And I will continue to search for joy in my journey; in gratitude for opportunities given and hugs received.

Sunday Night Trip to Urgent Care: Big Yawn and a Double Ear Infection

Sunday Night Trip to Urgent Care:
Big Yawn and a Double Ear Infection

Diapers, Dissertations, and Dreams

When I first thought about this blog, I thought about titling it: “Diapers, Dissertations, and Dreams” …because I like alliteration 😉 But also because it captured two of my dreams for this year, two pieces to my current journey: being a mom and being a student. Today is the last day of this school year.  This means it is the last day of my sabbatical leave from my teaching job: the last day of my “rest” from the “usual” to complete my dissertation. This makes today a day of reflection.

When I think about this year, my emotions are overwhelming.  I feel so blessed to have had this opportunity to take a year of “rest.”  I feel entirely frustrated that I was not more productive: my dissertation, my reason for this break, is still a long way from completion. And my principal internships went well, but I still have not met with the licensing board to attain my principal’s license.  However, alongside that frustration, there are also immense feelings of gratitude.  I am so grateful to have had this time with my boys. Though this year did not bring a new degree, it did bring a new, miraculous baby boy into our family. And not only did it bring us a healthy baby boy, this year provided me with time to be at home with Kai in these first few months of his life.

To be perfectly honest, today is a difficult day: reflection often is.  I find myself crying through much of today. I have cried tears of regret over things not finished followed by tears of gratitude for the blessing of things so much better than I could have ever imagined.  There have been tears over things lost and things gained.

I feel regret that not only was I unable to finish my dissertation during this sabbatical leave, I was also rather unsuccessful at improving my house-making skills with the additional time: unfortunately the laundry still isn’t finished and the house is only moderately clean. And at the same time, I feel exhausted; as though keeping up with two boys every day was challenge enough in itself.

However, in the midst of the regrets and exhaustion, there is joy and blessing too. Each time Keilan says something adorable (which is ALL the time), I am flooded with joy at this amazing little guy who God chose to bless our family with. I remember all the good times we have had this year: fingerpainting, reading, snuggling on the couch after nap time, taking trips to Target, sharing sweet lunch conversations, building forts, and knocking down towers; and I am overjoyed to have had this time to enjoy everyday life with this little boy and his brother.

I feel I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t confess that I also find myself suppressing feelings of dread; knowing that I will soon return to my teaching job full-time and will miss out on some of these precious, everyday moments.  But, with that confession stated, I will actively choose to remember all that I have to be grateful for.  I am, once again, so grateful to have had this extra time with my boys; and I am also so grateful to have an opportunity to return to teaching: a calling I feel honored to answer.

So, today, my journey finds me in a time of reflection. This is the end of my sabbatical year, but it is not the end of my work, nor is it the end of my dreams. My dissertation may not be finished yet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be eventually. Those diapers? I’m changing oh so many of those…and I’m oh so glad to do it 😉  I’m a mom. I’m a student. I’m an educator. I’m many other things as well, and I’m on a journey.

I have challenged myself to keep this blog as a place to record my search for joy on that journey. Merrian-Webster defines joy as, “The emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires.”

I may not yet possess all of my “desires” (i.e. this degree or 8 hours of sleep a night), but if I continue to trust that God’s plans are greater than mine (Proverbs 3:5,6; Jeremiah 29:11) and if I align my desires with His, than I can certainly find hope and joy in the “prospect” of attaining those desires (Psalm 37:4).  And I will move forward from this sabbatical year joyfully: grateful for all of the times of “well-being, success, and good fortune” that I have already experienced and hopeful about the “prospect” of good things to come.

This picture was not posed: one day I watched my little man climb into a tub to read...and his book of choice? The Dissertation Journey :)

This picture was not posed: one day I watched my little man climb into a tub to read…and his book of choice?
The Dissertation Journey
🙂

This time, joy was at the zoo

Yesterday I had very good, responsible intentions of venturing out with my little men to get groceries.  However, as I buckled Keilan into his carseat, he asked (as he does at least 20 times every day), “Mom, we go to the zoo?” and my responsible resolve began to dissipate.

My indecision grew as I could not think of a reason why we couldn’t go to the zoo other than, “No. We’re going to get groceries.” or “No. Normal people don’t just go on spontaneous zoo outings.”

We live five minutes from a fabulous, free zoo.  I am blessed to be home with my boys this year.  I am blessed to be living life with a two-year old boy who loves the zoo.  Both boys were already buckled into their carseats…

As I weighed the original purpose for our outing against the request of my enthusiastic, young passenger; I headed away from the store and towards the zoo.

Yesterday joy was in “why not.” It was in spontaneity. And it was in my attempt to provide a joyful experience for my little boy.

We were only at the zoo for an hour.  We didn’t see all the exhibits, and we didn’t follow my usual route at the zoo.  As we entered, Keilan excitedly requested to see, “The baff!” (which is Keilan-ese for ‘giraffe’) because, “It’s tall!” and he raised his hand up over his head so I would understand the heights of this favorite animal.  I understood, and we walked past all the other exhibits in search of giraffes.  We left the “baff” to find a “Yuum!” (which rhymes with ‘room’ and is apparently the sound a tiger makes), and we meandered through a few other exhibits; finishing off our outing with the “Fish! Fish!” and “Ah, ah’s” (yes, those are the monkeys).

Yesterday joy was in a spontaneous trip to the zoo.  It was in foregoing the “usual” and even the “responsible” for a special time with my boys.  Getting groceries and napping on schedule would have been nice, but nothing beats holding the hand of a two-year old who can’t stop raving about the heights of a “baff” as he jumps along like an “Ah ah!”  We’ll get groceries later, and there will be joy in that too; but this time, joy was at the zoo.

This time, joy was at the zoo

Finding Joy in Having Someone to Disagree With

My brother-in-law recently got engaged to a woman whom he has been  in a relationship with for two years.  The “trick” to their relationship is that they have only been in each other’s presence for a grand total of three weeks over the course of those two years, as she has been living on the other side of the world; limiting conversations to email, phone, and Skype.  Just over a week ago, we were able to be at the airport for her much anticipated arrival: welcoming her into the country and into our family.

This week, we were able to share in a special dinner with my brother-in-law and new sister-in-law, and it was a wonderful time.  My boys are already very much in approval of this new aunt who is not only sweet and loving but also comes baring toy cars and candy.  As we cleaned up after dinner, my brother-in-law told me I could put one of the dishes in the kitchen; which I did.  However, my sister-in-law had a different plan. As soon as I entered the kitchen with the dish, she picked it up and carried it right back into the living room.  With a smile and a wink, I teased my brother-in-law: “You were wrong.”  He assured me that he has been wrong “a lot” in the last two weeks since her arrival, and that he didn’t mind it one bit.  “In fact,” he said with a smile, “I kinda like it.”

I am glad for the joy that my brother-in-law has found in his new wife, and I also find his joy to be profound.  How often do we find joy in being wrong?  Yes, they are newlyweds.  There will come a time when it will be less enjoyable to be wrong. But how wonderful it is when you value someone else’s presence so much that even disagreeing with them is made wonderful by the sole fact that they are there to disagree with.

My two-year old has recently begun saying “Thank you.”  I have been anxiously awaiting the addition of this phrase into his vocabulary, and I have celebrated each time he offers an adorable, “Sanks, Momma!” or “Tank Ew!”  Earlier this week, I asked Keilan to put his diaper in the garbage, and with his sweetest voice and most winsome grin, he offered a cheerful, “Ummm, no sanks!” Before bouncing away.  Catching me off guard, I needed a moment to form my response, and before I was able to say anything, he bounced right back, picked it up, and threw it away.  That time, I had no need for frustration, as he ultimately did what I had asked.  However, I was reminded of how I could find joy, even in defiance, when I looked at that adorable face.

I know a number of moms right now who are forced to be without their babies for one reason or another, and I get to live life with mine. I am blessed.  There are so many who would give anything to hear a defiant, little, “No sanks!” And just as my brother-in-law is experiencing the joys of “being wrong” with his new wife, I can choose to find joy even in those moments when my two-year old is refusing to join us for dinner and my two-month old is joining in with his own wails of complaint.  It might be loud, I might be “wrong,” but there are still so many reasons to find joy.

Keilan in Corner

My little man: even when he is melting down, he still melts my heart.