Brave, Rockstar, Super-Mom

Those are three of the words from some of my ever-so-kind Instagram friends today... Commenting on me being alone at the doctors with all three boys. Those comments gave me some super fuel to power through the next hour or so... But if you were to step behind the picture you'd see everything but. I think the theme song would be "I'm a survivor." 

Brave. Not so much. It was a complete necessity. I tried everything to avoid it. Baby woke up with pink eye, called doctors at 9am to find their only available appointment is 1:15- smack dab in the middle of nap time and my husbands meeting he couldn't rearrange. So no bravery here, just a survival moment of "do what ya gotta do." 

Rockstar. Man can I make the pics look like that. All boys looking at the camera, two out of three smiling. But the only "rockstar" was Caleb who pulled the stirrups out of the old patient table and while balancing on them was screaming at the top of his lungs, while Connor played on the iPad and I tried to nurse my sick babe. (I'm sure everyone could hear the "show" through the paper thin walls! Hey I think it got the doctor into our room a little quicker!) 

Super-Mom. Well as I sit here in the pharmacy drive thru after everyone having the most nutritious dinner ever (a bowl of cereal.) I don't feel like a Super-Mom. I'm replaying all the moments of today while judging the cars in line in front of me why they are in the drive thru with no children in their cars... 

Connor roared at a little boy just at the approach of him coming near the magazine rack. Snatched the one and only toy from another boy! (Why on earth our pediatricians office only has one toy in their entire establishment boggles my mind and I managed to fill out a comment card while I was there-- someone had to get the brunt of my frustration.) Caleb treated our glass ball string lights in the backyard like a baseball game and shattered glass all over. Spit on his grandparents multiple times while Skyping with them. Connor hit me while being put in bed for nap time. They fought. They made messes. They had tons of poopy diapers. And both Caleb and Cade never took a nap. 

On these tough days I'm reminded I don't have to do it alone. I'm reminded of how much in need I am of my God. His joy really is my strength to not just "survive" motherhood, but to thrive in the midst of the crazy years. At the end of every day (and normally in the middle) I can give thanks to Him for every blessing and this life He believes I am capable of leading— and doing it well." 

How good is this?!.....

"The LORD is my strength and shield. I trust him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving." Psalm 28:7 

We All Need a Little Grace

Phew, this morning was a doozy. I had less than an hour to feed four human beings, get them dressed, play a game of "Go Fish", brush teeth, cuddle during "Daniel Tiger", make lunches, make coffee for the busy hubs, and get out the door on time. I know so many can relate. But why does there have to be a battle every time? Connor spilled his cereal, like head to toe milk and "honey boats" (Honey Bunches of Oats) all over him twice! Caleb is fighting over every. single. thing. He doesn't like his shirt, his socks have "bumps", he can't get his shoes on, and he hates his new (never worn) sweatshirt from Christmas. Just great. Thank you Jesus for Cade who sits on the floor and smiles through most of it, even being pushed down by Connor and toys stolen.

So we finally make it into the garage, everyone is in their seats and I'm closing the automatic door and boom... slam my finger in my door. That was just enough to push me over the edge. I mean sobbing. I can't remember the last time I sobbed like that. I shut the garage door in the midst of the pain, because I just couldn't take the chances of a neighbor walking by and hearing the madness & sobbing all at once. The boys asking if I was okay. I finally had the words to tell Caleb-- my finger was hurting bad, but it was my feelings that were hurting to push me over the edge. He had been rude and disobedient all morning. (Maybe it's because I beat him so bad in Go Fish?) So then Caleb begins to sulk and cry. So I climb in the back of the van and we sit, and talk, and cry and hug. We work it out. We have (what I hope) is a good lesson for all of us on working together and what loving each other looks like.

While I'm climbing back up to the front of the van I'm coaching the boys on what we're going to do once we arrive at school-- no fits, no tantrums, no fights. And under my breath say something like "I don't need anymore grief..."

Caleb says, "Mommy!! It sounded like you just said you don't need any more grace?!"

And I'm done.

"Nope, Caleb. Mommy always needs more grace. Lots and lots more. We all do. Thanks for the reminder baby."

My morning in a nutshell and a constant reminder that I'm in need of grace from every avenue of life. Including every person and email and text I am super late on replying to right now, trying to keep up. Thank you friends for grace. Thank you God for daily grace and mercies new every morning.

Thankful for coffee on the ride.

A trip to Target after the chaos will help.

The way home. The sun & clouds just made me happy. It reminded me of a clean slate.

Count on Crazy

So I once heard this thought shared at our MOPS meeting...  (fyi: if you aren't connected to one, you should! It's a lifeline for mommies of tinies) ... The line was "count on crazy." 

Oh how that can be such a helpful perspective to have in the daily tasks and chaos we call mommyhood. I have found so many times when I could break down and cry, or scream my head off, or call the husband for a 911-- that I slow down and remember to "count on crazy." When we do this, it makes it a lot easier to laugh over the spilled drink on the light carpet, the nail polish on your four year old son, the three year old playing wrestling with your nine-month old (which all of this has happened to me in just these past few hours.) 

This is the life. Did we dream of all of the messy details? Probably not. But they come with the package-- and it's still the best. 

But my thoughts don't stop there, some of you can... But there's a few of us that need to keep reading (or processing). I would like to one up it and say, "count on the craziest!" 

So this morning we went to the Sacramento Children's Museum (another fyi: if you are local, you need to become a member there! Another lifeline!) So I already knew to count on crazy as I'm one of the few mommies there with three kids and alone. I don't have my fancy camera out and we are never dressed in mommy/kid fashion... We are in survival fun mode. Baby strapped to me, Caleb off who knows where (but it works- we've been going since he was a baby) and Connor insisting I follow his every move and carry his toys and hide from the alligators. 

Then over the loud speaker they say, hello everyone. It's now time for a science project in the party room! I tell Connor to stay while I go make sure Caleb has managed his way there. Of course he was already seated with his goggles and lab coat on. (Adorable.)

So to keep a long story short, the science project was a cup of water in a pan (to collect spillage). First you put soap in the cup and stir. Caleb does great, Connor decides to be the one and only "craziest" and eat it! Ew. Then they add food coloring, then baking soda... Connor takes another spoonful to the mouth! (Ah! I can't catch it all. Holding Cade & helping Caleb.) The finale to the project has arrived! The citric acid to make the "mini explosion"-- lots of foaming. Caleb does his and then definitely one ups his brother. Everyone is politely stirring their cups, oohing & aahing over the foam magic... When Caleb decides to pour his out everywhere and put his hands all in it and make a total disaster. (Picture taken before the disaster!) 

This is where the "count on the craziest" happens. I could get angry and scold him, I could get embarrassed and leave the room fighting tears, I could've been very stern and made him embarrassed and humiliated (<-- these were all options in my mind... all the while Connor is still test-tasting his chemicals! And I'm feeling like a spotlight is shining on us while everyone else is playing by the rules.) But I kindly smiled, coached him that we weren't meant to pour it out, let's help clean up... And kindly exited pretty quickly after having him put his items away and thank the teacher. I'm thankful for the perspective that has been taught and caught here. I don't want to scold my children for being adventurous, curious, and messy-- just because it can maybe be "embarrassing" that they're not doing it like everyone else. 

To top it all off, when we arrived at the safe haven of home ready to eat and relax, I dropped the jar of strawberry jam which resulted in lunch plans ruined, an insane mess to clean up... But I was able to laugh it off and remain calm. Thank you Lord for these lessons learned & molding me daily in this life of mommyhood. I will continue to "count on the craziest" and try to soak up every moment. 

That's not how this works!

By Vanessa Shepherd

First graders are weird.  I have a first grader and the way their minds work seriously confuse the mess out of me.  I don't know the last time a six year old has graced your conversation but I would love to give you a hint of what I have to work with these days...

Michael had been coming home from school hungry, I'm talking really really hungry. Haven't eaten all day maybe two kind of hungry.  This was happening for a while and I excused it as typical boy behavior and shed a small tear for our grocery budget.  Every day at 2:10pm I would pick my man child up from school and without fail every day at 2:15pm he would be perched at the counter awaiting his second lunch.  It was getting old and fast.

And then I thought of something... what if he wasn't eating what I had been packing for him?  What if his second lunch really was his first lunch?  And so I asked...

"Michael, did you eat all of your lunch today?"

"Yes."

"Michael, did you eat all of your lunch today?"

"Yes, Mom."

"ALLof it?"

"Ye-ahhhhhhhhhhh-NO.  I'm sorry mom. I'm sorry!!!" Followed immediately by hysterical crying.

The thought of him throwing that much food away, days upon weeks worth, was nauseating and I did what every mother would have done in my shoes- sent him to see his father.  Right now we are a part of a church plant in Central California and my husband works in his "office" most days (located not so comfortably but very adorably, if I do say so myself, in the garage) so having him go "see his father" on occasion is pretty convenient for a mom who is at a loss for words from time to time.

And then my husband got father of the year.

Michael walked back inside and I asked what he had learned from talking to Dad.  He told me how Rich had showed him a World Hunger video to show him the importance of food and how many children aren't privileged enough to have what we take for granted.  Genius.  Simply genius.  Way to take a moment of "my carrots aren't as cool as my friend's bagged processed poop chips" and turn it into a teaching moment.  Well done, Mr Shepherd, well done!

Thoroughly pleased with the outcome, I decided to leave it alone knowing that after what he had just seen I would never have to worry about it again.

Oh, first grade.  How you test me.

Two days later... yes, a whole TWO DAYS... Michael comes home STARVING.  I drop my shoulders, lean on the counter, and look Michael right in the eyes as I ask him once again if he had thrown away his food.  The fruit of my husbands labor.  Literally, it was fruit that day.

And without skipping a beat he responded, with enthusiasm, "YES! And I remembered that video when I did it!"

And then I died. Of laughter. And sent him back out to the garage.  

Insert old lady from Geico commercial saying "That's not how this works! That's not how any of this works!!!", here!

Children... just when you thought you were getting your point across... FOR THE LOVE!!!