Because ALL Moms are Super
This entry has been a long time in the writing. A lot of different ideas, words, conversations, etc. have been brewing in my mind for a few months. I thought it would be fitting for them all to come together on this day (commercially) set aside to celebrate motherhood.
It all started off with a short tangent during Tuesday Morning Bible Study early on in the new year.
As a side note, I love the ladies that gather together on Tuesday mornings. We are at different stages of life as women, wives, and mothers and yet we all come as Daughters of a King - Who loves us immensely and unconditionally. I love being able to share “war stories” with other mothers of young children. Often, while sharing a story, I am able to laugh at an experience that had originally stressed me out. It is good to learn to laugh and perhaps not take myself so seriously. I also deeply appreciate the wisdom that comes from women whose children are older – who have been there – and are generous with their encouragement and kind in their wisdom. Truly, a blessing.
Anyways, one morning we went on a tangent and someone shared how sometimes she felt inadequate when she read on Facebook how someone she knew had kids bathed, ran a mile, baked bread, washed the clothes, etc., fill in the blanks... and it was only 10 in the morning.
I am rewriting what she said but the gist is the same. And we all are prey to it. The comparison. The how-do-I-measure-up? The I’m-still-in-my-pajamas-at-10-so-there-must-be-something-wrong-with-me. The pressure. More often than not it is self induced.
Nowadays, it is not enough to be Mom or a Stay at Home Mom. (note that I didn’t say “just a Mom”. Really. There is no such thing.)
Perfection is required. Or at least the allusion of perfection. Our hair: coiffed. Our clothes: stylish, clean (as in free from those shoulder mucous swipes or the greasy hand prints at thigh height). Our kids: neat, tidy, and presentable at all times (never mind the runny noses or the dirty knees or the scraggly hair coming out of the bows). We bring our kids to play dates two times a week as well as music groups and gymnastics We do this, all the while keeping our house sparkling and cooking healthy meals for our family. And, if that’s not enough, we might even be a WAHM (Work At Home Mom – which is a misnomer really, because what Mom doesn’t work?) and have some sort of cottage industry going one where we make boutique _____ (insert craft here) and sell it on Etsy or eBay. We wake up at 6 am to work out, thereby keeping our firm form, even after having two or three kids.
Am I exaggerating? Is anyone else laughing at this unattainable idea of perfection that is being foisted on us women? Does anyone else ask Who are we being perfect for? or Why the pretense?
This Mothers Day, I’d like to take a stand against the “SuperMom syndrome” that is so prevalent and pressuring. I ask you to do the same. We need to come together and agree to stop doing this to each other. We need to agree to be real with what life is like and accept ourselves and each other and life without comparison or worry and with love, grace, and humour – even in the face of snot swipes on sleeves or spit up on shoulders or being late (yet again). Let’s agree to stop playing the perfection game.
We have been called by God to be mothers and caretakers of His little ones. It’s a daunting and scary and challenging task. It sometimes – or often – feels undoable. But we have hope. He calls and also equips. He is always with us. He forgives our shortcomings. He is the ultimate Encourager through His Word. We “can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.”
So let us agree to encourage each other in this shared calling and spur one another on with love and kindness and a listening ear. Let us share our joy on the days when we do feel like a “supermom” and the laundry and the baking and the cleaning does get done in record time. Perhaps not by 10, but by the end of day. Let’s share laughter (and learn to laugh) at the days where, when we’ve been up with crying babies half the night, we are still in our PJs at 10 and the house doesn’t get too much attention that day. Those are often the days when Murphy’s law applies and someone unexpectedly shows up. Let’s realize that being a mother or housewife means more than a clean house and some days you just want to spend the whole time playing with your children. Let’s all recognize and be able to openly acknowledge that we don’t have it all together all the time.
Being a mother is busy and dirty and noisy and seemingly goes from one diaper change to the next. It is wiping noses and cleaning up spills and vacuuming up cheerios and fish crackers every day.
Being a mother is smiles and hugs and songs and giggles and love and joy and excitement and amazement. It is a calling. It is a blessing. When you’re a Mom, every day is Mother’s Day, whether Hallmark says so or not.
Showing posts with label when 3 become 4. Show all posts
Showing posts with label when 3 become 4. Show all posts
22 February 2011
old words, same meaning
Give us this day our daily bread... I needed a reminder of these words...
We recently finished a sermon series on the Lord's Prayer in our church. Even though I've heard and said those words countless number of times during my life they took on new meaning the past few months.
One particular phrase persists in staying at the forefront of my mind: Give us this day our daily bread.
The word bread is important, my pastor said. Jesus was teaching us to pray for what we needed for life, for living, for this day.
Jesus wasn't teaching us, Give us this day our daily dessert.
Food is a big deal in our house these days as Anneka is learning to eat and appreciate solids. She loves sweet potatoes and beans; peas are definitely not her favourite. Homemade applesauce from Grandma is also a big hit. Cheerios give her a chance to relieve some teething pain by chomping on something hard and also practice that important hand-eye coordination... Her gastronomic adventures are just beginning.
The other day my Dad told us about a conversation he had with a man who had traveled to Costa Rica... he spoke about a man whose house consisted of poles in the ground with bits of tin attached on top like an awning and people who were thankful for one meal a day...
I face Anneka as she sits in her high chair, little mouth open wide for food like a baby bird's. As I try to feed her as cleanly as possible (she is learning how to eat, but I, as first-time mom, am also learning how to feed her) I realise how blessed we are. Meals are not gourmet at our house, but we never have to worry where our next meal will come from. Our house is not as fancy or as done-up or as colour-coordinated as we might like and our furniture might be just on the good side of shabby, but we don't have to worry about the cold and the rain...
It is hard not to be swept up in the rush for that perfect pillow or paint chip... or to think how much better our house will look if we could afford to put new carpet in or if I could just get those fabulous candles... So much importance is put on things and appearances that don't mean anything.
As Anneka finishes her food and smiles up at me with a carrot-coloured grin I know that God not only cares for me and gives me and my loved ones what we need for each and every day, He is also feasting me with dessert...
originally posted in March 2008 here
15 February 2011
ticking away
So I had these great plans (even to the point of making it a Resolution) of applying myself more diligently to my writing and my blog. Work on My Great First Novel has been put on the backburner as I tend to my young children and my hard-working husband. As any parent of young children (and maybe not-so-young children) knows, one usually does not have the energy even to brew a refreshing cup of tea (or pour a nice glass of wine, I'm just saying...) in the evening, let alone do anything that smacks of extra exertion. Perhaps a folding of an article of laundry or two, but any real work takes supreme, mind-over-matter effort.
But I am okay with that. Life right now centres around two little girls who giggle and smile and cry and laugh and bug each other and me and make life anything but boring. Writing can wait; first words or smiles or steps or sentences cannot. Besides, ideas come to me at all hours of the day or night (especially when insomnia comes to call) and those all get jotted down, in the view that someday they
might become a sentence or paragraph of something grander. My intention was to somehow fit it all in. If I couldn't blog every day, I was going to aim for every other day or perhaps twice a week. To get some juices flowing if only a little faster than molasses in winter.
As you can see, since January, that has not happened. We have not, as you might have worried (and I know you were worried), fallen off the planet. It's just that the busy-ness of life in the West Coast Grace household stepped up a notch since M went back to school the first week of January. Since I'm the only one working, that's what I've been doing more of... working. M gets home in the afternoon and that's when I place myself in front of my computer, valiantly fight against the temptation of Facebook and email and all the other blogs I follow, and work. My laundry is suffering. As I type, there are at least three baskets full waiting to be folded and one more in the dryer. I figure it's okay as long as we all have clean clothes. We're down to the one-month-more mark and I will be happy when it's over.
So rest assured, it's not abandoned just postponed. At least until the ides of March, which will hopefully be more beneficial for us than for Caesar. (Hey, it's my 100th post, if I can't get away with a corny literary allusion here, when can I?)
09 December 2010
when 3 become 4: get me to the church on time
Certainly, for most people, Baby #1 is a big adjustment. The newness. The change. This Other Person to care for. Life becomes very different. But really, after a while, you realise that Baby #1 doesn't really cramp his/her parents' style too much. If you want to go out to a friend's house on a Friday night, just take her along and put her to bed there. Pack and plays are a mother's (and a father's) best friend sometimes. The best invention ever, if you ask me. Even better than sliced bread (because I've mastered the art of slicing my own). For us, getting ready to go out, to church for example, only required an extra 45 minutes in the morning, feeding time included.
It's a whole different game when 3 become 4. You would think that with 2 parents and 2 kids it's easy to divide and conquer. And usually it works out that way, with the baby being the easy one - feeding, dressing, napping, transferring to car seat, leaving. Done.
It looks so good, so easy, on the page. But it's exactly when it looks and feels like it's going good that suddenly it just doesn't.
You're all ready to walk out the door and Baby E has a diaper blowout or a massive spewing spit up. So much for the groceries.
Or all 4 of you are sitting the car, dressed in Sunday best, on time for once, and the car won't start. Because someone, and we're not mentioning any names here, bumped the back hatch light on while heaving the buggy into the car the previous day, after a walk in the park. So it stayed on all night. So of course the battery is dead. So much for church.
Or you're putting your daughter's shoes and suddenly there's a puddle on the stairs. "Mommy, I peed." No, really. So much for being at Grandma's on time.
You see where I'm going with this.
One lesson I have yet to learn well is that when life throws those OOPS moments at you, there's only one thing to do (only one thing you can do, really): laugh. My tendency is to stress over it. I tend to take life and myself just a little too seriously. But I have come to realise that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can't get to church, or the grocery store, or the park, or so-and-so's house, on time because kids do pee and puke and cry and cars do break down or batteries die at the most inopportune moments. There will come a time when I will probably be able to get to places on time because I won't have shoes to tie, coats to zip, tears to dry, or accidents or spills to clean up... and I know that I will miss it.
It's a whole different game when 3 become 4. You would think that with 2 parents and 2 kids it's easy to divide and conquer. And usually it works out that way, with the baby being the easy one - feeding, dressing, napping, transferring to car seat, leaving. Done.
It looks so good, so easy, on the page. But it's exactly when it looks and feels like it's going good that suddenly it just doesn't.
You're all ready to walk out the door and Baby E has a diaper blowout or a massive spewing spit up. So much for the groceries.
Or all 4 of you are sitting the car, dressed in Sunday best, on time for once, and the car won't start. Because someone, and we're not mentioning any names here, bumped the back hatch light on while heaving the buggy into the car the previous day, after a walk in the park. So it stayed on all night. So of course the battery is dead. So much for church.
Or you're putting your daughter's shoes and suddenly there's a puddle on the stairs. "Mommy, I peed." No, really. So much for being at Grandma's on time.
You see where I'm going with this.
One lesson I have yet to learn well is that when life throws those OOPS moments at you, there's only one thing to do (only one thing you can do, really): laugh. My tendency is to stress over it. I tend to take life and myself just a little too seriously. But I have come to realise that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can't get to church, or the grocery store, or the park, or so-and-so's house, on time because kids do pee and puke and cry and cars do break down or batteries die at the most inopportune moments. There will come a time when I will probably be able to get to places on time because I won't have shoes to tie, coats to zip, tears to dry, or accidents or spills to clean up... and I know that I will miss it.
07 November 2010
when 3 become 4: get me to the church on time
Certainly, for most people, Baby #1 is a big adjustment. The newness. The change. This Other Person to care for. Life becomes very different. But really, after a while, you realise that Baby #1 doesn't really cramp his/her parents' style too much. If you want to go out to a friend's house on a Friday night, just take her along and put her to bed there. Pack and plays are a mother's (and a father's) best friend sometimes. The best invention ever, if you ask me. Even better than sliced bread (because I've mastered the art of slicing my own). For us, getting ready to go out, to church for example, only required an extra 45 minutes in the morning, feeding time included.
It's a whole different game when 3 become 4. You would think that with 2 parents and 2 kids it's easy to divide and conquer. And usually it works out that way, with the baby being the easy one - feeding, dressing, napping, transferring to car seat, leaving. Done.
It looks so good, so easy, on the page. But it's exactly when it looks and feels like it's going good that suddenly it just doesn't.
You're all ready to walk out the door and Baby E has a diaper blowout or a massive spewing spit up. So much for the groceries.
Or all 4 of you are sitting the car, dressed in Sunday best, on time for once, and the car won't start. Because someone, and we're not mentioning any names here, bumped the back hatch light on while heaving the buggy into the car the previous day, after a walk in the park. So it stayed on all night. So of course the battery is dead. So much for church.
Or you're putting your daughter's shoes and suddenly there's a puddle on the stairs. "Mommy, I peed." No, really. So much for being at Grandma's on time.
You see where I'm going with this.
One lesson I have yet to learn well is that when life throws those OOPS moments at you, there's only one thing to do (only one thing you can do, really): laugh. My tendency is to stress over it. I tend to take life and myself just a little too seriously. But I have come to realise that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can't get to church, or the grocery store, or the park, or so-and-so's house, on time because kids do pee and puke and cry and cars do break down or batteries die at the most inopportune moments. There will come a time when I will probably be able to get to places on time because I won't have shoes to tie, coats to zip, tears to dry, or accidents or spills to clean up... and I know that I will miss it.
It's a whole different game when 3 become 4. You would think that with 2 parents and 2 kids it's easy to divide and conquer. And usually it works out that way, with the baby being the easy one - feeding, dressing, napping, transferring to car seat, leaving. Done.
It looks so good, so easy, on the page. But it's exactly when it looks and feels like it's going good that suddenly it just doesn't.
You're all ready to walk out the door and Baby E has a diaper blowout or a massive spewing spit up. So much for the groceries.
Or all 4 of you are sitting the car, dressed in Sunday best, on time for once, and the car won't start. Because someone, and we're not mentioning any names here, bumped the back hatch light on while heaving the buggy into the car the previous day, after a walk in the park. So it stayed on all night. So of course the battery is dead. So much for church.
Or you're putting your daughter's shoes and suddenly there's a puddle on the stairs. "Mommy, I peed." No, really. So much for being at Grandma's on time.
You see where I'm going with this.
One lesson I have yet to learn well is that when life throws those OOPS moments at you, there's only one thing to do (only one thing you can do, really): laugh. My tendency is to stress over it. I tend to take life and myself just a little too seriously. But I have come to realise that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can't get to church, or the grocery store, or the park, or so-and-so's house, on time because kids do pee and puke and cry and cars do break down or batteries die at the most inopportune moments. There will come a time when I will probably be able to get to places on time because I won't have shoes to tie, coats to zip, tears to dry, or accidents or spills to clean up... and I know that I will miss it.
31 August 2010
when 3 become 4: in the wee small hours of the morning
A has recently dropped her naps. I was dreading this as some sort of catastrophic event in her short little life - Mt. St. Helen's-sized emotional eruptions due to tiredness at 4 in the afternoon. We have had some of those episodes and short of giving her a nap at that late hour, a nice calm Baby Einstein dvd (just music and animals) is a lifesaver.
Because on the days that I have caved in and given her a nap, not only does she stay up and part-ay in her room until 9:00 at night she gets up at 3:00 IN THE MORNING.
It's exhausting.
To say the least.
One night I heard her crying and I got up. We've been trying out having her sleep without pull-ups, which is a big step in the whole potty training journey. The first week when she whined during the night, it usually meant she had to go or had had a bit of an accident. I went in to check her and perhaps take her to the bathroom and change her pajamas. She usually went right back to sleep after that, which is very good for Mom and Dad who need their sleep as much as anyone does to stay chipper and cheerful.
Not so this night.
You would think a dark, somewhat chilly house at 3 am would discourage a small child from wandering the halls. Not so our undaunted daughter. What does she do if it's dark? She drags the piano stool all the way down the hall in order to turn on the big hall light!
I still wasn't in deep sleep from getting up with her previously. I had left our door open and was awakened by this bright light streaming into our room. What was going on out there?
Me: What are you doing?
A: Turning on the light.
Me: Why?
A: It's dark outside.
Me: It's still night time, of course it's dark out. You're supposed to be in bed!
A: I want to play toys. I can't see them. I need the light on. (sidenote: A can talk very well, in full sentences. She actually said, I can't see them. I need the light on.)
Me (very tired and grumpy to the point of being monosyllabic): No. No light. Bed time. Now.
It took me a little longer to get back to sleep that time. We had a lazy morning that day, perhaps with a little more coffee and a little more Diego than is our wont. That's what's needed when you're working on a few hours of sleep and you feel like it's the wee small hours of the morning when it's the full sunshine of the middle of the day,
Because on the days that I have caved in and given her a nap, not only does she stay up and part-ay in her room until 9:00 at night she gets up at 3:00 IN THE MORNING.
It's exhausting.
To say the least.
One night I heard her crying and I got up. We've been trying out having her sleep without pull-ups, which is a big step in the whole potty training journey. The first week when she whined during the night, it usually meant she had to go or had had a bit of an accident. I went in to check her and perhaps take her to the bathroom and change her pajamas. She usually went right back to sleep after that, which is very good for Mom and Dad who need their sleep as much as anyone does to stay chipper and cheerful.
Not so this night.
You would think a dark, somewhat chilly house at 3 am would discourage a small child from wandering the halls. Not so our undaunted daughter. What does she do if it's dark? She drags the piano stool all the way down the hall in order to turn on the big hall light!
I still wasn't in deep sleep from getting up with her previously. I had left our door open and was awakened by this bright light streaming into our room. What was going on out there?
Me: What are you doing?
A: Turning on the light.
Me: Why?
A: It's dark outside.
Me: It's still night time, of course it's dark out. You're supposed to be in bed!
A: I want to play toys. I can't see them. I need the light on. (sidenote: A can talk very well, in full sentences. She actually said, I can't see them. I need the light on.)
Me (very tired and grumpy to the point of being monosyllabic): No. No light. Bed time. Now.
It took me a little longer to get back to sleep that time. We had a lazy morning that day, perhaps with a little more coffee and a little more Diego than is our wont. That's what's needed when you're working on a few hours of sleep and you feel like it's the wee small hours of the morning when it's the full sunshine of the middle of the day,
07 June 2010
when 3 become 4: back to the beginning
When 3 become 4.
And move into a new house.
All in the same week.
It's an understatement to write that things got a little crazy.
Little E was born at a trim 6 lbs. 15 oz. at 12:30 in the afternoon on Monday, January 25, 2010. She was the smallest and cutest little thing I'd ever seen. Whereas A was fitting into 3 month onesies a week after she was born, I actually had to go out and buy tiny newborn onesies to fit my new little girlie.
That Friday, only 4 days later, we moved into our new house! All week, while A stayed at her grandparent's house and I reveled in E's newborn cuteness, M was busy packing, moving, cleaning, organizing, etc. and building a new storage room in our new place.
We spent our first night there on Friday and the next day A came home to a new house and a new baby sister all in one swoop.
The next few months were busy, almost a blur, so say the least. So many things were going on at once: minor house renos, more unpacking and organizing, getting used to a new baby, getting used to having two little ones, having an older child adjust to a new sibling and all that entailed....
E is four months old now, so we've been in our house for four months. It seems like we're finally coming up for air after a long, grueling swim. We're poking our heads above the surface of the water and saying to ourselves: Wow, things are getting done, rooms are painted, gardens are barkmulched, vegetables are planted, and things are slowly making their way to their rightful places (maybe even after several temporary ones).
And now that the weird rainy May weather has passed (it is the West Coat after all), and the sun seems to be smiling on a sunny June, sitting on our deck and looking over our nice, big, green backyard hearing A play there, it feels pretty darn good.
And move into a new house.
All in the same week.
It's an understatement to write that things got a little crazy.
Little E was born at a trim 6 lbs. 15 oz. at 12:30 in the afternoon on Monday, January 25, 2010. She was the smallest and cutest little thing I'd ever seen. Whereas A was fitting into 3 month onesies a week after she was born, I actually had to go out and buy tiny newborn onesies to fit my new little girlie.
That Friday, only 4 days later, we moved into our new house! All week, while A stayed at her grandparent's house and I reveled in E's newborn cuteness, M was busy packing, moving, cleaning, organizing, etc. and building a new storage room in our new place.
We spent our first night there on Friday and the next day A came home to a new house and a new baby sister all in one swoop.
The next few months were busy, almost a blur, so say the least. So many things were going on at once: minor house renos, more unpacking and organizing, getting used to a new baby, getting used to having two little ones, having an older child adjust to a new sibling and all that entailed....
E is four months old now, so we've been in our house for four months. It seems like we're finally coming up for air after a long, grueling swim. We're poking our heads above the surface of the water and saying to ourselves: Wow, things are getting done, rooms are painted, gardens are barkmulched, vegetables are planted, and things are slowly making their way to their rightful places (maybe even after several temporary ones).
And now that the weird rainy May weather has passed (it is the West Coat after all), and the sun seems to be smiling on a sunny June, sitting on our deck and looking over our nice, big, green backyard hearing A play there, it feels pretty darn good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)