New Year

Now that the glitter has rubbed off of the new year we see the grey plastic mold underneath showing where it's been worn most. The sparkles of what we promised ourselves and others are all over the floor and crushed into the carpet. A reminder of where we fell short every time we catch the shine when the sun hits just right.

We were meant to be a new person by now. A better person than we were 20 days ago.

Eating better.

Organizing better.

Cleaning better.

Teaching better.

Mothering better.

Wife-ing better.

Praying better.

Learning better.

Following better.

Stewarding better.

Discipling better.

Loving better.

But here we are. The same person we've been all along. Because re-wiring a human takes a lot of work.... and that's OK.

So we adopt words, phrases, verses to get us through. To help keep us on track. I've come across many that my friends have shared and I love learning a little more about them as they put ownership on what they need most this year. 

When I truly look at all that needs to change in my little bubble, all I need to improve on, it's an enormous task. And here, my friends, here is where I found my resolution. My phrase. My ownership.

That's right, eating elephants.

The funny part about all this is that the word "elephants" is my default noun. Anytime I need to buy myself a few minutes with my child I throw out "elephants".

"Mommy, what are we having for dinner?"
Elephant burritos.

"Where are we going?"
To see the elephants.

"Can we go swim today?"
No, too many elephants in the pool.

"Are we there yet?"
There's elephants in the road slowing down traffic.

(It doesn't work as well now that she's older. Instead of a moment of confused silence I get "Moo-oooooo-ooooom!")

Elephants.

I know I've heard this phrase before and shrugged it off as a bad joke. But when you sit on it. Think of the reality of it there's so much truth there. When an insurmountable task is ahead of you it can feel like an elephant. And if you really needed to eat one the only way to get it done? One bite at a time.

When it comes to :

Eating better.

Organizing better.

Cleaning better.

Teaching better.

Mothering better.

Wife-ing better.

Praying better.

Learning better.

Following better.

Stewarding better.

Discipling better.

Loving better.

I can only do it....one bite at a time. 

Paved with good intentions.

I love Christmas.

I'm the dork blaring the Christmas Music at the stoplight on November 2nd.

I'm the one that walks around Hobby Lobby in October wistfully dreaming of snow as I walk up and down the aisles of ribbon and greenery.

I'm the one in Toys-R-Us filling the shopping cart in September (OK, August) for my Christmas Present layaway.

I love it.

I love the tree, the nativity, the garlands, the stockings, the cookies, the advent calenders, the tree lightings, the cards, the parades, the centerpieces, the wreaths, the lights, the snow, the ornaments, the specials, the parties, the food, the wrapping, the Nutcracker Ballet...

But I'm sorry. I have to stop.

I'm tapping out.

I want to do the Random Acts of Kindness calendar, Shepard's Pouches, and yes... even though it's kinda-sorta creepy and we don't do Santa..... I do want to do Elf on the Shelf, but I'd end up doing Wandering Wisemen.

But I can't.

Because it's going to. kill. me.

Well, maybe not kill me. No, I'll most likely live to see the new year in... But it's going to kill my soul. The joy that comes with this special time of year.

You know, that joy our children have when they see a 40 foot Christmas tree light up for the first time that season. Or when they find the perfect tree at the tree farm and pull it out of the forest all on their own. Or when they decorate sugar cookies and "sneak" a few M&Ms between each plop of icing.

They're happy little balls of joy.

And why? Is it the daily advent calendar with it's family activity and/or goodie? Is it the checking off of to-do lists? Is it the shopping on top of the shopping you've already done for things nobody needs?

Nope. It's because they DON'T do any of that stuff. They just coast along enjoying whatever comes their way. Dreaming of goodies and toys and fun.

Now, are any of of these Pinterest-y/ Facebook-y activities bad? ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!

If you want to do it, go nutty! Be a Super-Pinterest-Woman. Make that garland! Do your advent calendar! Bake 4 dozen of 12 different cookies!  Do a whole darn gingerbread village! Host a both a family AND friend party... on the same weekend! I've had years like that!

This year, not so much apparently.

This year I've felt the call to slow down. To be present with both my husband and child. To meet their needs (not what I feel they should have, based on glossy magazine covers designed by a team of stylists) when all they really need is me. Sane, relaxed, and providing a peaceful place to be.... and homemade hot chocolate with marshmallows.

I'm not saying we're having PB&J's for Christmas dinner. I'm saying it's gonna be a pre-prepped, shove in the oven, two crockpots running kind of Christmas. It's gonna be a popsicle stick ornament kind of Christmas. It's gonna be use what we already have for decorations kind of Christmas. It's gonna be going under budget kind of Christmas. It's gonna be less doing and more being. And that's OK.

Although my intentions of what Christmas should be is a bit more polished and perfect... It's not what it will be. It's messy and imperfect... and mine. And exactly the way God wanted it to be.

My intentions my be good, but getting to that perfect Southern Living look sure can be hell. On everyone.

credit: Ann VosKamp

aholyexperience.com

Garage Sale-ing (or Teaching Your Child How Not to go in Debt)

The trees are budding, the tulips blooming and dandelions are plentiful.... Spring has sprung in our corner of the world! People are cleaning out their homes and it's Garage Sale season!

This morning I took my little girl to her first real neighborhood Garage Sale, not as a spectator but as a shopper! To make math real I doled out five one dollar bills. We talked about how each dollar was equal to four quarters OR 10 dimes OR 20 nickels. Honestly, I had no idea that $5 would buy so much! (Or that so many senior citizens would just give things to her for being so cute with her little purse. So much for the math lesson.)

She got one of every garage sale category; stuffed animal- check,  books- check, craft kits- check, outdoor toys- check, ziplock bag filled with odds and ends from a bigger, more elaborate play set- check...... she was having. a. ball!

Her last and most expensive purchase, for a whole dollar, was a Polly Pocket car that was obviously broken. Even though I pointed that out to her she insisted that she wanted it more than anything in the world and paid with her very last dollar. Within 5 minutes she looked at me and sobbed "It's not a great toy. It doesn't work at all." tears starting down her face.

I felt for her. I truly did. How many times have I bought something and was immediately hit with buyer's remorse. From little things like the fruity gum at the checkout that went waxy once the flavor ran out or a shirt on clearance that seemed OK but looks kinda meh now I have it at home... To big purchases like the SLR camera I bought under pressure when that electronics store went out of business at the mall that really isn't user friendly and now, two years later, I could have bought a Canon or Nikon for the same price... or my very first car that I bought on my very own: A '92 Chevy Lumina that was a BOAT but burst into flame less than 2 months into ownership. (After spending the same amount of money I paid for it to fix the alternator, starter and head gasket.)

But what did I want to teach her in this lesson in money and choices and frugality? I mean, I had a few dollar bills in my pocket. I could have just handed one over to her and it wouldn't have made a dent in my shopping plans. If I really wanted to I could have walked back to that house and told the seller that they sold a bum toy to a little girl and, I don't know, gotten her dollar back or exchanged it for another toy.( I mean, what kind of person sells a BROKEN toy at a garage sale?!?!? Ok, breathe in- breathe out. I'm OK. I'm OK...)  Either way the tears would stop and I could go on with the happy morning.

For some reason this seemed like a big lesson to her broken heart. (One I wish I had learned waaaaay before I bought that Lumina.)

I sat on some random person's front lawn with her little head on my shoulder and broken toy in her lap. She wailed for a bit and I just held her in her broken moment as people walked by and stared at the sweaty woman with the weeping child on her lap. The sweaty woman whose shirt exclaimed "Stay At Home ROCKSTAR".... I was not feeling like a Rockstar at the moment. I wanted to crawl up into a ball and die.

Once her breaths evened out I smoothed back the hairs plastered with sweat to her forehead. I explained that she made a bad purchase. How I gave her advice on what to do and she made her own choice and sometimes they come with their own consequences. That we need to not buy what our heart wants in the moment but to "stop, think and cho-o-oose". (Credit: Daniel Tiger)

"Momma, I should have listened to you."

"Yeah, I know you feel that way."

"I was foolish."

"It's OK. It happens. To everyone, even grownups."

"Mom, I'm never going to make a bad purchase again. I'm gonna stop, think and cho-o-oose next time."

Can I have that in writing?

We continued shopping, finding the motherlode of scholastic books. I went SHOPPING for our home library! At that same sale they had TONS of little girl toys, priced to sell. Little girl looked them over, played with a few and remarked to me as we left that house. "Momma, I ran out of money. I couldn't buy anything there, my heart wanted stuff but I knew I had no more money."

"Was it hard?"

"A little bit."

"I'm proud of you for making good choices."

.... and we literally skipped back to the car.







All this started as a Facebook Post but the story went on and on and on. I don't know what led me to share this slice of our day. But there it is. A moment of our real.

A moment of perspiration, tear, and snot soaked ugly turned into a learning moment for my little one. Reminded that if we can pray in the moment for the strength to stay cool we can turn it around. We can get back to that happy moment we had just left and all be a little better for it.

Meltdowns and Moses

I texted my husband: "Today is a bad day."

Because it was.

First the child woke up early, bright eyed and bushy tailed squealing "I woke you up! I woke you up!" And I was all...

                                     


Then we needed to get going to take Daddy to work so we could have the car for the day and a certain 45 inch tall person didn't wanna go out in the cold. And I was all...

Making a choice for breakfast was a drawn out process. Apparently the choice between oatmeal, apple slices 'n' cookie butter or yogurt was just too much for one little person to make. And I was all...

After finally getting her to pick one, getting her to EAT the breakfast she chose (apple slices and cookie butter if you were dying to know) was an uphill battle that took up most of our morning. And I was all....

Next we needed to get moving if we were ever going to make it to swim class, but getting her to focus on the simple task of getting naked was apparently beyond her grasp. And I was all....

We wrestled into the swimsuit, got the sweatpants and sweatshirt on and the wild hair was as neatly put up as it was ever going to be that morning. The only thing she had to do on her own was put on her socks as I grabbed the pool towels upstairs. And I was all...

When I came down (after a quick, much needed, round of candy crush) she was deep in play with her My-Little-Ponies with no socks on her feet. In fact the socks were nowhere to be found. And. I. Was. All..


No joke. I lost it.

For whatever reason those socks were my tipping point and I melted down.

I'm not proud to say that my voice went a few decibels louder than usual or that I threatened with a punishment I had no intention of following through on or that I foamed at the mouth a bit.... maybe I was just imagining that last one. But I was not a happy, nurturing, loving Mommy at that point.

But I wasn't really as angry at her. I was angry at me.

Because I had failed.

It was all over.

We could all label my parenting career a failure because of the socks.

The socks told me I was not made for this, apparently. I was not able to perform the simple tasks of feeding my child and getting her dressed in a timely manner. I'm pretty sure they don't let you leave the hospital without being able to do both of these and here I am 4.75 years in and I couldn't do it....because of socks.

The socks told me she's never going to learn how to really read. I mean if I can't even hold her attention long enough to get her to put socks on there's no way we're going to get past lesson 8 of McGuffey Primer. Ever. Counting past 15 isn't going to happen either or handwriting anything past the four similar letters of her nickname. Forget history, science or anything that required logical, independent thought. She would peak at a 3rd grade level at 14 years of age... because of socks.

The socks told me that anything I have been trying to instill in her was all for naught. She would eventually shun her childhood beliefs for the pleasures of the world. Eventually she would leave our Jesus-loving home to move in with some guy named Mike, who insists on being called "Blaze", a 24 year old who works behind the counter of a bowling alley biding his time until he gets discovered for his "installation art". (Which is supergluing pocket change on the floors of malls and shopping centers.) He'd get sick of the art scene here in Syracuse and the two of them would move out to Portland to live in a warehouse with "some guys he knows". She'd stop answering our calls on the cell phone we bought for her when we told her we weren't sending her any more money until she came home for a visit, eventually trashing it and falling off the radar. No matter how many phone calls we made to the Portland authorities they wouldn't be any closer to locating her than we were when we flew out twice a year just to look for her for two weeks. Six years later we'd get a call from a shelter in LA from a broken woman that was once our daughter asking to come home...... because of socks.

I, apparently, needed someone to talk me off the ledge.

My husband did the best he could. He reassured that I was a good mom. That she was ultimately a good girl. That we were just having a rough morning.

I wiped the tears from my face, blew my nose, squared my shoulders for the battle ahead and went out the door.

Off we went to the Y: the girl, myself and my doubts.

Eventually we settled in on the bleachers (miraculously a few minutes early) and she started chatting with her friend, the only other girl in the class. They were comparing swimsuits, the conversation went like this:

My Girl: "Oh, I like your swimsuit."

Friend: "Thanks, iz got princesses on it."

MG: "Yeah! It's got Rapunzel.."

F: "An' Snow White AN' Cinderella!"

MG: "Yeah! You should have Ariel on it, too. She swims like a fish."

F: "No. No Ariel on it."

MG: "Do you know Ariel? She used to be a mermaid."

F: "Yeah! I have the Ariel movie at home!"

MG: "Oh, I don't..... But you know what? I have Moses!"

F: -silence-

MG: "You know Moses?"

F: -shakes head-

MG: "You know.... Moses and Rameses and God in the bush?"

F: -silent stare-

MG: "From the Bible? Do you know the Bible?"

F: -shakes head-

MG: "The Bible! You should read it! It's about God and how much he loves us. Jesus loves us, too! He died for you but you don't hafta be sad because he comes back because He loves you!'

Right about then the swim instructor started class.

And I just stared at my daughter in disbelief. Did she just share the gospel with her friend? At four? With no fear? Or doubt at all?

I'm pretty sure I've never done that and I'm a few years older than her.

OK. So we're gonna be OK. She's gonna drag her butt when we need to run. She's gonna run when we should be staying together as a group. She's gonna need to pee at the most inopportune times. She's gonna be "full" when it's time to eat and starving when we're in no place to stop for a snack. She's gonna challenge us and frustrate us and cause me to burst into tears of rage if she times it just right.

But we're gonna be OK because ultimately that very smart girl loves Jesus. And loves the people around her enough to tell them about Jesus and God and how much He loves them.

In the meantime I just gotta get her to swim class once a week.