I Tried to Be Good, and I Failed

Today I had A DAY.

You know, one of those days.

From before I even rolled out of bed, things seemed to be going the wrong way.

I was up too early.

I had too much work to do.

The kids were up before they should have been.

Everyone was crying.  EVERYONE.

My mind was racing with thoughts about Why didn't he do this?  And Why did you do that?  And, C'mon!  Just do this!

And I realized that if I stepped out of bed with all of that going on, I was going to have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

So I prayed.

I prayed that God would fill me with the Holy Spririt.

I prayed that He would use me to breathe love and life into my husband, my sons, my students.

I prayed that--no matter what--this day would not be about me and what everyone could have--should have--would have done for me.  Instead, I wanted to be other-focused.

As an only child and a millenial and a human-being, let me tell you, this is very hard.

But I tried.

And then I failed.

And then I tried again.

And then I failed again.

And then I realized that I could keep trying over and over and over and I would keep failing.

And then I got very annoyed at this whole business of caring for other people who do not do what you want them to do.

So, I did what any millenial would do:  I checked out of real life and checked into my phone.

(Not my finest moment, but God used it.)

I had an email saying that the weekly kids' clubs at church were not happening tonight.

No!  I need that time!  Don't you know that I NEED THAT TIME tonight?  I silently screamed back.

And then I kept reading.

There was an activity to do with your kids.

You were supposed to get a dirty penny and wash it with vinegar.  The vinegar wouldn't really work to clean the penny, but then you'd add salt...and..WAH-LAH!

Shiny, clean pennies.

You'd explain to your kids that you were like the vinegar and can't really do much on your own.  And then you'd tell them that the salt was like the Holy Spirit and without the Spirit we can do some but mostly we are useless.  And then the kids would have this A-HA!  moment.  And then you'd all drink hot cocoa and hug.

Except that I was the one with the A-HA! moment.

After I'd stepped out of bed, I'd pretty much been trying to be a good mom and a good wife and a good teacher and a good worker all by myself.  And I sucked at it.

I didn't leave any room for the Spirit to work in me.  Through me.  For me.

I was the vinegar.

And the Spirit is the salt.

And I need a whole lotta salt in my heart.

And so do you.

Because, no matter how hard you try, you will never be good enough.  You will never be strong enough.  You simply aren't enough.

But there is one who is.

And He wants oh-so-much to show you just how great He really is if only you'll let Him.

Go on.

I dare you.

For the times they are a-changin'

I once read that one of the oddest things about life is that you never really know when a new phase of life is going to start.  Days drag into days, and into weeks, and into years, and every day seems exactly like the day before it.  Then all of a sudden, your tiny frog-legged baby is having a baby of his own.  It's crazy, right?

I remember being a little girl and asking to ride on my uncle's shoulders for the one hundred and bazillionth time. Sometimes he said Yes, and sometimes he said Not now, and sometimes he said Just for a little bit and...well, you get the picture.  But I remember walking home from the zoo, past the crummy camping grounds that used to be along that stretch of the road, and he said No.  And I was feeling grumpy because he'd been saying No for a really long time.  I couldn't remember the last time he said Yes.

And that's when it hit me.

Things were different now. 

I was growing up.  It would never be the same as it was before ever again.

And I was sad.

Really, really sad.

Sometimes you can prepare for the changes.  You know when Kindergarten starts and when you get your driver's license and when you go to college.  Those are big and they are important and I will probably be a blubbering wreck when my kids do all of those things.

But it's the things I can't prepare for, that I don't see coming, or that I do see coming but don't know when they will come...it's those things that really grab me by the throat.

Today I took my boys to the park.  And they ran and they screamed and they climbed on everything in sight.  And I realized that I had been there, watching and standing and laughing.  And that was it.   I didn't carry anyone up the stairs, or help anyone over a wobbly bridge, or guide any clumsy feet down a slide.  They could do it without me all by themselves.

Oh sure, I still need to issue the occasional regular warnings about not throwing rocks or not climbing on things that aren't meant for climbing or not wrestling random kids at the park, but my role is shifting from that of a constant helper to more of a guide, a coach, a trainer.

A friend once told me that for the first 12-18 months after her second child was born, she mostly focused on keeping her kids alive.  I totally get that.  Somewhere in the recesses of my memory there is a shadow of myself screaming, No, don't put that in the baby's mouth!  He can't eat goldfish!  She said that eventually it changed.  She said that eventually her kids played together, and everything became so much easier.

In those first months of having two kids to care for, I clung to her words.  She said it would get easier.  She said I wouldn't always think about just surviving this day.  She said.  She said. She said.

And you know what?  She was right.

I don't know when, but eventually I stopped worrying that the toddler would poke out the baby's eyes if I had the audacity to take a shower.  Soon enough I was able to put food on their plates and eat my own lunch with both hands.  And one day I realized that these two little people, whom I've loved on and fretted over for two lifetimes, love each other back.

And that is awesome.  So so so awesome.  There really is nothing greater than hearing the sound of two people whom you love share a deep, deep belly laugh.

And I am so excited to see what the next chapter holds.

But it's strange, these days of autumn.  Every time I go outside, I breathe as deeply as I can and notice how the sun feels warm and toasty on my skin.  These days are numbered.  I won't know the last time I go outside in my flip-flops, or the last time we run to the store without jackets, or when the days of playing at the park are through until spring.  I know it is coming; I don't know when.  But I know that I have it today.  And I am grateful.

So today, I challenge you.  I challenge you to look at your life, at your day, and find one thing that brings you joy.


And be grateful.


Soak it in.


Breathe deeply.


Cherish this moment.

Dear Max

Today you put on your shoe.

All by yourself.

Not your rainboots, that you slip your feet into with ease and then clomp around like a tiny herd of elephants.

Not your sandles, that you squeeze between your toes and slip the strap over your heel, always on the wrong foot.

Today you put on your tennis shoe.  All by yourself.  The one with the velcro strap that you have to undo and redo in just the right spot.

That one.

You did it.

Without me.  All by yourself.

You yelled, "Mommy!  Mommy!"  And I looked at your feet, knowing that there were no shoes there the last time I'd seen them.  I asked if you did it by yourself.

You said yes, and you asked if it made me happy.

And I said it made me very happy.

And I clapped.

And I smiled.

And then I hugged you.

And when I hugged you, I shed a tear.

Because I was happy.  And I was sad.  And I am feeling all of those things at the same time.

Being a mom is weird.

Yesterday you needed me to do everything for you.  Every little thing.

But today you put on your own shoe.

And I'm a mess.

You are going to be 3 in a few months.

3 years old

I remember when your dad and I celebrated our 3rd anniversary after we started dating.  I bought him a bunch of balloons and tied them to his motorcycle.  We had a big dinner and exchanged cards and presents.  It was a big deal.

Three years was a long time.

But, I swear, you were born yesterday.

How could you have been alive--in my life--for 3 whole years already?

No way.

That simply cannot be.

Yesterday I finagled those froggy newborn arms and legs into impossibly tiny outfits, and today you are putting on your own shoe.

How do these things happen?!?

Breathe, momma, breathe.


I need to slow down.

I need to freeze this moment in time for just a little bit.


Because I want to need to remember the way that you...

...say "Mommy!  Mommy!  Hurry!  Hurry!"  when you are excited.

...and say "Mommmyyy..."  all long and drawn out when you make a new discovery.

And I don't want to forget how you...

...put your head down and say "Oh man..." when you find out that things aren't going your way.

...hold my hand when we walk across a parking lot.

...insist on opening the door to walk into the garage all by yourself.

...turn everything into a ramp for your cars.

...make me "breakfast" in your kitchen.

You seem to think I love cupcakes and tea.

...ask if Daddy is home whenever we pull into the driveway.

...lay on the floor...or your bed...or the couch...or anywhere to "look at pictures" in your books.

...shout "Good morning, Mason!" when your brother wakes up from a nap.

...stick out your tongue just a tiny bit when you concentrate.

How much longer will you...

...say "my" instead of "I" ("My did it!")?

I can't bring myself to tell you that you are saying it wrong.

...raise your voice to a tiny squeak when you say something is "tiny little"?

...ask what that sound is?  And that sound?  And that sound?

When did you stop saying "sound noise" and start just saying "sound"?

When did you learn to say it like everyone else?

Why didn't I notice that change?

...ride "zoom!  fast!" on your motorcycle up and down the hallway?

...tell me that you're sorry and that you "lub" me?

...look so sad and conflicted when you know you've done something that you shouldn't have?

...remind me to pray before we eat or see an ambulance or feel sad?

...ask me to hold your hand when you have a hard time falling asleep?

As I write this list I am struck by how many of my memories are noted by your words. Your simple, sweet words.  

When did you start talking?  Or saying sentences?

I swear it was yesterday that I thought you'd go to kindergarten saying only the word "dis"...

I should be going now.  

You're putting on your other shoe, and I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Love always,

Mom

Dear Mason

Today I realized that you are 10 months and 4 weeks old.
That means in one week you will be 11 months.
That means that turning *1* is right around the corner.


But, I'm not ready for that.

Nope.

You cannot turn 1.  Not yet.  Not now.

For now, you are still my little baby.

My 10 month old I-don't-care-how-many-weeks-because-I-don't-want-to-think-about-it baby.

So, I just need you to stay in your chubby little 10-month old body for another minute.

Because I want to remember all of the ways that you...


...flip open those blue eyes that melt my heart.  Still.  Every single day.

Even strangers stop to tell me how beautiful your eyes are.

And how you...

...curl your legs around my hips when I carry you.

And when you...

...crawl across the house to find whichever room I've gone to.

...smile, laugh, and flip around every time a cat is within eyesight.

...breathe in and squeal with delight as excitement takes over your little body.

...laugh as you splash in the water.

...try to convince your fingers to do what you want them to do as you are learning to stack cups.

I don't want to forget how you...

...work oh-so-hard to get food on a spoon and feed yourself without it falling off.

...toss your water cup to the floor immediately upon finishing.

...yell for "Da!  Da!"

...wrap your arms around my shoulder and bury your face in my neck to give me a hug.

...smile.

...cry.

...wake up at 5:30 a.m. 

Actually, I could do without that one.

...mold to my body, legs curled down and head nestled close, as we glide in the rocking chair.

...beam and giggle when I discover which word you've been trying to say.

...walk along couches, tables, chairs, toys, legs, beds, or anything else at your height.

...spit things out when I ask.

Really, this makes my job so much easier.  

...laugh hysterically when I tell you not to do something.

This is only cute right now.  If you are thirteen and reading this, it is no longer cute.  Seriously.  Pack your bags.  You're going to boarding school.

...stop crying as soon as I pick you up.

Because for now, today, in this moment, you are my sweet little baby boy.

And, no matter what, you will always be my sweet little baby boy.

Even when you aren't so little.

I love you, Mason.

"Truth. Let's hear some."

A friend of mine recently posted this as her status update on Facebook.  It's probably one of my favorite posts ever.  I've thought of it often and truly hope that I am living my life in such a way that truth is spoken by me and to me as often as possible.

So, let's hear some.

You have days where you think you aren't good enough.  Not a good enough spouse.  Not a good enough parent.  Not a good enough friend.  Not a good enough worker.  Just not good enough.

You have moments when you're not sure how you are going to make it to through the next hour, let alone the next five minutes.

There are times when you just want to lock yourself in a room and pretend the rest of the world is not happening right now.

Sometimes you throw socks or toys or clutter in the trash just so you don't have to clean it up.

You have moments when you want to cry because--even though it's hard--being a parent is the coolest thing you have ever done.

Sometimes you leave a few squares on the toilet paper roll just so that you don't have to put on a new roll.

You stopped buying white socks so that you don't have to see how dirty your floor really is.

You wonder if you will ever feel as alive as you do in this season of life.  It is the hardest and happiest time of your life so far.

You drive the long way home.

You wish you had a clean car.  And kitchen.  And bathroom.  And everything.

Having a clean car--and kitchen--and bathroom--and everything--is overrated.

When it's late at night and everyone is sleeping but you, you listen to their heavy breathing and wonder if you will ever love as much as you do right now.

You like looking at the wrinkles in your hands.  They make you feel like you've done things in life.

Mason at 5 months

Every mother says this, but it seems like yesterday that my baby was born.  I can still feel what it was like to touch his warm, slimy, soft, squishy skin for the first time.  He was so round...his tummy...his cheeks...his thighs.  At 9.1 lbs, there was a lot to love!

Fast forward 5 months.

Mason is still cute--and round--as a button.

His weight is just shy of 18 lbs, a feat his older brother didn't accomplish until he was nearly a year old!

The days sometimes seem long, but they are flying by.  In the craziness of parenting and working and living,  I like to slow down and try to stick some of these moments into my memory.

Here are the things I want to remember about my 5 month old baby boy

...how he molds perfectly to my body when I hold him, like a little koala bear.

...how he blows raspberries when he's having fun.

...how his eyes squint up into little crescents when he laughs.

...how he tries to hug--and eat--his brother when we read stories.

...how he stares with eyes that melt you when you take pictures of him.

...how his legs pop into the air as soon as you lay him on the floor.  (This kid will do anything to suck on his toes!)

...how his thighs are so squishy!  They are nearly as big as my biceps!

...how he grunts as he babbles, like he's talking straight from his diaphragm.

...how he stares and takes in the world.

...how he wags his tongue in and out and in and out when he tastes a new flavor.

...how fascinated he is by people.

...how much I love to hold him.

Moms say the darndest things

Sure, kids say cute things.

So do moms.  (And dads.)

I'm not sure if my "pre-mom" self would be amazed or appalled at some of the things I experience and say on a daily basis.  It's amazing how readily some of the classic mom phrases spill out of my mouth without even thinking about it.  It's also amazing what odd things tumble out in the craziest of times.  Here's a glimpse at what has come out of my mouth lately...

"Don't 'hammer' your brother."

"Oh, honey.  No, no, no.  That's what toilet paper is for, not your hand."  [EWWW!!!]

"Do not pee on the carpet.  Ever."

[insert various potty training related songs here...]

"Don't eat that snow.  It has chemicals on it."

"That is very dangerous."

"If you don't eat ______, we will save it.  And it will be your snack later."

"You need to ask permission before opening the fridge."

"Don't touch that.  Don't that either.  DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING.  STOP TOUCHING EVERYTHING."

"Let's practice staying really still."

"Yes, you have to wear pants."

"Where are your socks?"

"What are you eating?  WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?"

"Why are you licking the wall?"

"Let's only throw soft balls at the ceiling."

"What are you doing? WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT?"

And the ultimate...

"I'm going to count to three..."