All In a Mama-Day's Work

Yesterday was one of the really exhausting days.  The craziness of getting 5 people out the door and to our 3 respective locations by 7:30am is no small task.  Doing this 5 days a week takes craziness to a whole new level.  Oh, how I wish I was a morning person!

Had I looked ahead at the weather, I would have dressed more appropriately than 5'3" in flats and dress pants with the hem dragging on the wet, rainy ground.  But alas, it was a soggy start to my long day.  Teaching 23 chatty, active, and outgoing kindergarteners was actually the easiest part of my day.  I love it and it doesn't seem like work at all.  And I certainly don't take the opportunity for granted.

8 hours later, school ended and I stayed for a meeting that also enjoyably flew by and felt more like a date with friends.  My phone buzzed alerting me I now needed to pick up my son from high school in addition to my daughter from her after-school practice.  Hating to leave the meeting, I packed up myself and my kindergartner and trekked back outside onto the soggy ground to rush to get my two oldest kids.  I was driving the hubby's truck since our old van has decided to no longer age gracefully.  Did I mention I hate driving his big truck?  I do. With 3 kids now in the truck, I headed to daycare to pick up the fourth and final peep.

Since nothing ever goes quicker than expected for a messy mama, I was now running late enough I had to drag my entourage along with me to my meeting with my college professor.  Yes, I'm still trying to figure out a way to return to college and finish what I started before marriage, babies, and the progression of mamahood.  Dreams don't die.  We just suppress them as life twists and pulls for our attention.

The big truck is not an easy beast to park on the street of downtown Hagerstown, so after 2 laps around the square, I pulled into an open spot and managed to scrounge up a dime and several nickels to buy me 25 minutes of parking.  My teenager decided to stay in the truck hooked up to music.  So mama and the 3 girls head for the meeting.  My youngest managed to fall out of the truck and land in a puddle along the street.  No time to stop and assess the damage, so she and I both walked with a squish to our steps.

Arriving at college and checking in with Security while your peeps parade behind you must be a bonus jewel in that heavenly crown.  Don't ya think?  Smh.  They stayed in the lobby while I took the elevator up to finally meet with the professor.  The same professor from the fall who worked so hard to get me into college and the perfect classes.  The same professor I had to contact to inform him that life was just too big to squeeze college into last fall.  But I'm going to try again.

He was so very gracious and helpful and in a matter of 15 minutes I had my college course options laid out for me for the spring semester.  We parted ways and I rushed downstairs to collect my posse of children.  Hurrying to get coats on and rush out the door since the parking meter would soon be flashing "loser" in bright red, I was stopped by the Security guard asking me to sign out of the building.  As I did so, he smiled with a tenderness to his eyes and let me know how well behaved my children were.  I smiled and thanked him (before I could confirm he had me confused with another mama) and we all headed out to the wet sidewalk leading to the big truck.

We drove home with a quick stop at the store for ingredients to make spaghetti for dinner.  Who says MeatlessMonday has to be on Monday?  In under 40 minutes, we were home and everyone was sitting down for a hot meal.  The first non-fastfood meal of the week.  Don't judge.  I promise I judge myself harder than you ever could.  Lesson plans, homework, baths, and bed.  Oh, and a quick trip to the other end of the county to pick up a vehicle I could drive until our geriatric van will be drivable again.

Finally at 10:45pm I lay my head down and set my alarm for 5:30am, because I don't know what the next day is going to require, but I know the adventure awaits and messy mama will find a way to keep her head above the water (but probably not the hem of her pants).

Not the Same Mama

We are not the same mama every Mother's Day.  Time, life, seasons, and growth take us to new places over the course of the 364 days in between.  Much like the rolling reel of a film, change continuously propels us forward to it's own rhythm.

This morning, I awoke to 4 children:  2 of my own and 2 of another mama.  That privilege is not lost on me.  Each child holds a special piece of my heart, whether they were birthed or borrowed.  That's the beautiful thing about being a mama.  Mama's are made in the heart.

While my heart is bursting at the seams with 4 precious blessings looking to me to be their mama, I wonder what being their mama looks like to them this year.  So much of life has changed for me in the last 364 days.  How has that impacted being a mama to these blessings?

Being a mama often comes under scrutiny.  By ourselves, by our friends, by our family, and by our society.  Women often find ourselves passionate and opinionated when it comes to mamahood.  Which many times leaves us holding up the measuring stick to ourselves and others trying to navigate this journey.  Ironically, very rarely do our children try to measure us up short.

Mothering another mama's children has to be one of the most vulnerable opportunities I can think of.  No one could mother my own children the same way I do, so how could I possibly think my style would be embraced by one who'd much rather have her children in her home than in mine?

Opening your home to children that are not yours also opens you up to judgment as to mothering evenly.  How much time do you invest on your own children vs how much time do you invest on the children entrusted to your care for a season?  Who determines quantity and quality of what you give?

Stay at home mamas vs. work-outside-the-home mamas.  I've been both in the last year.  Both have changed me and both have changed my children.  Which mama do my children need?

I'd say often too much of my identity is wrapped up in being a mama.  And I know that because if someone wants to wound me deeply, all they need to do is question, criticize, or tear down my abilities as a mama.  I come completely undone and swim in guilt and self-condemnation.

So as life has changed for me, I wonder how much of me has changed as a mama to my children.  I'm tired, cranky, stressed out, forgetful, behind on the house and laundry, and not available as often for them.  I worry about having to say goodbye to our 2 borrowed blessings.  I worry about being less than for my own flesh and blood.  I've lost the margin of time to take care of myself.  Time and energy seem to be the unattainable dream.

I'm not the same mama this year as I was last year.  Life's rhythm has propelled me forward to scary and lonely places.  My plate overflows while my heart desires that my cup runneth over as the best mama I can be.  I can't be both busy and best.  Or can I?

Maybe the messy mama I am this year is still ok.  Afterall, if Mama's are made in the heart, my heart surely hasn't changed for my loves.  364 more days to love on and press on for those I would walk through fire for.  For those I would die fighting for.  For those I know have been gifted to me.

At the end of every day, when my head hits the pillow and sleep comes so quickly, this mama reminds herself that all I survived this day and all that awaits me tomorrow is working together to mold me into the mama God is giving my children; not perfect, but present.  They don't measure me up short.  Even a tired and cranky mama is beautiful in the eyes and heart of a child.

"UP"---Love Leaks Out

I was never a fan of the Disney movie "UP".  It seemed like such a sad story of aging, real life heartaches, and losses.  Too much like reality that I couldn't enjoy it.  I would have much rather watched a full length movie of the young characters at this stage of life:

Fun, excitement, imagination, adventure, innocence, and sweet love.  Not to mention their adorable faces!  I've always been a romantic.

Yet, lately, this image of "UP" has been pressing in on my spirit:

The reality is that foster care is exactly what this image in "UP" depicts.  Opening your home to a child(ren) and filling up their empty places with Jesus, love, security, care, safety, routines, and the chance to cope with the traumas they've experienced in their short years.  Foster parents tether these children to all that is right and good while knowing it may be required to launch them up and away and relocate from your home to a land not flowing with milk and honey.

It's subtle, yet I can feel it all the same.  Short bursts of air leaving my mama heart in the every day happenings; reminding me time is short and precious.  The very early stages of launching our sweet foster siblings into the reunification process have begun.  Quite possibly, this summer will come to a close by moving these two little sisters back into an apartment with their mother and her village.  My heart hurts because I know what this means for them.

We may only have four months left with these two beautiful blessings being part of our family.  This mama watches everyday happenings and clings to the moments, knowing each day is likely lifting these girls slightly higher out of my grasp.  Time is slowly leaking the love from my heart as I do my best to prepare for one day in August when I will have to fully let go and release them.  It's as if my mind is already taking snapshots so that I may remember when I cannot touch and see.

We have been filling up these girls for close to a year now.  Attachment is a very raw part of life.  Necessary, natural, and painful all the same.  My heart knows Jesus is the Only One anchoring us and Only His plans will prevail.......

For now, I watch, I love, I trust, and I pray.  Every day I allow a little bit of Mama-love to leak out and UP as I fill these precious girls with enough Jesus to last a lifetime.

The iPhone Influence

This morning I walked into middle school as part of Parent Visitation day.  The school was buzzing with the every day hustle and bustle of kids and classes.  Memories of my own middle school days quickly came back to me.  So much was the same 25 years later and yet so much was different.

Math class was group activities and worksheets.  Boring, rote, "busy work" worksheets.  Kids working with partners, kids working alone, kids trying to stay focused, and kids totally distracted.  Enrichment class was reading aloud a novel and following the book with the movie.  The current book interested some and others could have cared or less.  Where the book couldn't hold the attention of some, those kids were able to absorb the story line through the movie.  Gym class was a battle of the cliques as kids were able to pick a sports station to participate in.  The dominant children manned their stations and the others could follow at will.  French class was a mix of students going through the required motions, students not even bothering to put forth the effort, and students so completely lost they may not have known they were even in French class.

As I mentioned, so much was the same in middle school 25 years later.  Students, classes, bells, intercom, cafeteria, books, lockers, hallways, worksheets, diverse learning, homework, wide range of attention spans, and teachers carrying the education torch to the next generation.

But what blew my mind was the middle school cell phone craze.  I have been informed of this epidemic many times by my children.  And often I have found it would be helpful for my children to have their own cell phone; convenient, but never necessary.  We've remained steadfast in our resolve against entering "the childhood cell phone society" and I am proud to say each of my children have been very respectful of our decision.  (even if a cell phone is on their Christmas wish list for the third year in a row)

Today, I was able to see first hand how influential the cell phone has become in our middle school.  More students have a cell phone than those who do not.  I was so tempted to take a poll in each classroom.  I probably would have been further shocked by the number of students (besides my own) without a cell phone.

I am confident in my brief visit this morning, I was not able to witness the variety of benefits in having your own cell phone.  Students can access Google, calculator, QR Reader, dictionary, and many other tools at their disposal.  I certainly do not want to come across as "anti-technology" or step on any toes.  Parenting is a tough gig; one where I fall and have to get back up many times!  But today, 25 years after my own middle school journey, there was a distracted atmosphere I can only explain by the "iphone influence".

In each class I visited, cell phones were "accidentally" chiming, dinging, whistling, buzzing, vibrating, and causing an underlying distraction for students and teachers.  Class just seemed like something to do when cell phones weren't an option or couldn't be easily hidden.  If there was a lull in classroom activity, cell phones came to the rescue.  When the bell rang, cell phones were the first thing to be checked.  If a student needed to step out of class, the cell phone was immediately slipped into their pocket first.  During gym class, my purse became "safe keeping" for many cell phones so that students could actually participate in gym class without damaging their phones.

The teachers barely blinked at all these cell phone interruptions.  Occasionally a stern look or raised eyebrow was given signaling the cell phone infraction, but class continued as normal.  Normal for this generation.  Distracted with a white noise of technology.  Students and teachers struggling to focus on learning.  When learning didn't capture their attention, students had their cell phone as entertainment back up.

And I can only surmise the amount of drama and relationship strife that goes on during school hours via this cell phone craze.  Bullying, peer pressure, fashion crises, cheating (relational and academic), fitting in, approval, criticism, he-said-she-said, texting wars, the list goes on.  Proverbs 18:21 tells us that words have the power of life or death.  The cell phone holds the same potential.  The "iphone influence" is just as powerful, and is also capable of instant and widespread devastation with the single click of a "send".

So much life happens at the fingertips of students in middle school, and 25 years later, it seems that this is just how middle school rolls.

Firing the Maid

Mama was inspired by this great book!  (My kids, not so much.)  The author challenged me to jump into action so that my children were no longer served in ways that would not serve them well as adults.  I needed to get rid of my guilt of asking my kids to step up their responsibilities, which meant I needed to fire the maid (aka Mama).

The teen and diva have both been doing their own laundry for quite some time, so I'm guessing they thought they were ahead of their friends in the chores dept.  But really, Mama was behind on her game of equipping them.  They have been capable of so much more for awhile now, but I've caved to the excuse that it would take longer to teach them than to just do it myself.

Somewhere inside I was also probably living by a false truth that as a stay-at-home mama I should be taking care of most chores during the school day.  Serving my family was my job.  Yet really,  I was overloading myself and under-loading everyone else.  The maid had to go.

So today our two worlds collided.  A Saturday with nothing on the calendar + a very dirty house =  Operation Cleaning House.  I organized a chore list for each room of the house, assigned age appropriate tasks for the little girls, let the older kids pick their tasks (making sure they both were able to practice each type of cleaning), and then hubby and I filled in the rest while also completing  the heavy duty ones.  Organization is the antidote to chaos.

The day went remarkably well!  The upstairs was finished by lunchtime and the downstairs (minus Willie's heavy duty kitchen tile scrubbing---which is happening as I type) was finished in time for dinner.  There were plenty of sighs, eye-rolling, grunts, and attempts to opt out, but overall it was a success!  The kids learned how cleaning works, Mama learned perfection is overrated, and the end result is that we have a clean house from top to bottom that everyone can take pride in!  And most importantly, the house was not cleaned by the maid, because each person living in our home is more than able to handle it.

Laundry and cleaning may be small steps in gaining ground against being served, but I am so grateful my children are at least learning how capable they are to serve in their home.  Mama is also learning to empower her peeps which in turn empowers her to serve in areas beyond the home (and not go crazy trying to do it all).

It felt so good to fire the maid today!

We discovered more than dust bunnies:
~no logic supports making your bed everyday
~showers need cleaned???
~clean does not equal spotless
~moving couches is quite revealing
~Swiffer and Duster mean different things to different people
~a lot of people make a lot of dirt
~crumbs and dust will never be totally conquered
~we really like having a clean house!
~those who didn't think they needed to "practice", actually need a lot of practice
~praise is a great motivator
~Windex is NOT a streak-free product
~the maid will not be returning

Bare to be Brave

The dreaded middle school gym class.  The first time kids are required to change into and out of gym clothes........with all the other girls.  It can be an anxiety nightmare.  Insecurities bubble to the surface, fears morph into monsters, acceptance by our peers is on the line, assumed judgement awaits, and the playground of our imagination takes us to the scary worst-case-scenarios.

A few months ago Jillian stood at this crossroad with her 6th grade peers.  The girls locker room provided a number of privacy walls and curtains for girls to change behind, but the number of girls outnumbered these areas.  Sort of like the rescue rafts vs Titanic passengers.  Only a handful of girls could be rescued from changing with all the other girls.

The night before Jillian's next gym class, Mama and daughter cuddled up and dove into these fearful waters together.  What if they tease me?  What if I'm the only one?  What if all the private places are taken?  Mama realized the anxiety of trying to find a private changing place every class was going to be far greater than the anxiety of simply being brave and changing in the open space.

So I spoke courage into my girl.  Be brave.  Be the only one.  Bravery is contagious and it won't take long before you're not the only one.  Instead of praying for the Lord to provide a private area for Jillian to change, we prayed for the Lord to help Jillian be brave and confident in who she is.  Beautiful and strong.  Bare your bravery and you just may breathe confidence into another girl struggling too.

Of course, sometimes we also need a practical plan to compliment our bravery.  A quick trip to Target and Jillian was set.  She was now equipped with a large supply of undergarments that would ensure she only needed to change her shirt and shorts every gym class .  Baby steps to baring bravery.

As I prayed for Jillian the next day, I couldn't help but smile.  She was tackling something this Mama rarely has been able to pull off.  Being me, whether its accepted or criticized.  No matter what the outcome, I was so proud of my girl for choosing bravery over fear.

As soon as Jillian climbed into the van after school, I asked how gym class went.  Her face beamed with a smile and she said, "I did it Mom!"  "I was brave and the other girls saw that."  "I was pretty much the only one to change in the open area."  "But it was ok, we all have the same parts, just in different shapes and sizes."

Oh, my sweet child!  If you can hang on to and keep claiming that bravery, you will go far!  There is so much beauty in being the you Jesus designed.......

Blankets of Grace

Jillian and I recently attended a blanket making party for baby girls in China where gendercide threatens their existence.  A powerful need that squeezed my heart the moment I heard.  A cause that we could inexpensively contribute to while also enjoying this craft as mama and daughter.

With the chaos of a 6-passenger family, our time to pick out the necessary fabric for these blankets ended up being a trip with all 6 of us in tow.  Between crankiness, sensory overload, and preschoolers over-active bladders, the errand turned stressful.  My hubby and I tagged team the children, but I was the last one back in the van and carried more than a bag of fabric; I carried the burden of unmet expectations.

My expectations were to simply purchase fabric for 2 blankets, a frugal investment, knowing two baby girls in China would be wrapped in warmth and love in Jesus' Name.  But what ended up happening is that on our trip to the fabric store, Jillian wanted to get fabric for a Paris blanket and Braeden wanted to get fabric for an Air Force blanket.  When it was all said and done I felt heavy with the weight of my own children's selfishness, but even heavier was the weight that I did not say "no" to their requests.

My mind banter ping-ponged between "why do they have to have everything they see?" to "why didn't you just say "no" and stick to your original plan?".  Beating myself up proved useless until it was time to turn all this fabric into blankets.  That's when God covered me in a blanket of grace.

The afternoon making our blankets was very special.  Jillian teetered between perfectionist and free-spirit as she cut, tied, and prayed over her efforts.  The desire to create excellence needed to be balanced with the beauty of imperfect love.  Our blankets weren't perfect, but the heart and hands that made them were pure.

All of my fretting about her selfishness in wanting her own blanket disappeared when I read the beautiful note she wrote to the mama of the baby girl that would receive her blanket.  It was from Jillian's heart and it was something this mama still ponders and treasures.  A little glimpse of what Jesus is doing in the heart of my child.

After arriving home from the blanket making party, Jillian's enthusiasm continued and she wanted to jump right in and begin making her and Braeden's blankets.  Mama was tired and had a trophy size blister on my thumb from fighting dull fabric scissors.  But Jillian's hands wanted to create more love.

So we closed ourselves off in a room upstairs, and side by side, we spent another few hours cutting, tying, and creating blankets.  Music, laughter, a bit of whining by Mama, stiff backs and legs, and the thrill of seeing the completed creations made for an amazing day.

What I saw as unmet expectations, God revealed as exceeding my expectations.  The love Jillian felt when she gave Braeden his handmade blanket and the appreciation Braeden showed when he received it, tugged at my heart.  I could only see selfishness at the store and it's cost at the cash register.  But God could see the love and grace that were yet to come.

And so the gift of fleece blankets just keeps on giving.  Jillian is making one for each our foster girls for Christmas and we are collaborating our efforts to make some as inexpensive-priceless gifts for others as well.  The time we spend together will be the true gift.

How like our amazing God to turn my original 2 blanket investment of love into something far greater and richer than I could have ever imagined!