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A 10 Manifest for Joyful Mothering: A Mothers Day Gift

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Some Lessons Teach the Teacher

The little girl walked up to me. Mommy, I accidentally wrote in the book.

Well, Abigail, what does that mean?

She hangs her head, A spanking.

Yes, what book did you write in?

The Apple Strudel Soldier.

A library book.

Why did you write in The Apple Strudel Soldier?

I thought it was a coloring book.

I could tell she was searching for a reason that sounded acceptable. A coloring book is an appropriate place to write. Things were getting out of hand, I had to tackle the “accident” and the writing and if we continued this line of questioning I am sure we would get into lying and other subjects this Monday morning mother wasn't prepared for.

We were sitting face to face--she on the couch, I on the ottoman. She was worrying over the consequences. I wanted to address the disobedience and “tweaking” of the truth.

Abigail, you knew this wasn't a coloring book. It is your favorite library book. We will have to tell Miss Diane when we take it back.

Do I have to have a spanking? She asked tearfully.

Yes, Honey, you have to have a spanking. You know you are not allowed to write in books.

A quiet voice--Ask to see what she wrote.

Abigail, show me where you wrote.

She opened the book to the title page and pointed to a pen mark not a centimeter in length. Eyelashes are longer. The frayed edges of this old book are longer.

Oh, Abby. I can't spank you for this.

Relief covers her face. There will be no spanking.

Mommy, I'm sorry I wrote in the book.

Oh, Sweetheart, I forgive you. I am sorry I scared you, that I was going to spank you without cause. Will you forgive me?

Yes. She replies.

Mommy, I'm sorry I wrote in the book. Will we need to tell Miss Diane?

No, Honey, we won't.

Her eyes give it away. Her body tense beside me gives it away. She isn't convinced. Not of the forgiveness. Not of the love. Not of the relationship damaged in disobedience, but repaired in forgiveness.

To read more please visit A Lettered Legacy.

Reality Moment

I had a reality moment today. *tear*

I took Brenna to school today, as usual.
We were listening to Veggie Tales on the way, as usual.
We get to the school and I help her out of the car, as usual.
We walk on the sidewalk together side by side. Wait. She doesn't reach for my outstretched hand. Not usual.
We get to the door of the school to see her two little friends arrive at the same time. Sophia & Summer.
Her smiles are for them not for me. Not usual.
I walk her in the building, kiss her goodbye. She is looking at them the entire time. She didn't look up at me once with those little eyes I love so much. Not usual.
I had to hold back my tears as I left the school, as usual.
This time they were new tears. Tears at the realization that very soon Brenna will no longer need me in the ways I am use to her needing me.
You know that part of you that you didn't have until you had kids?! I can almost feel that part of me starting to walk around inside looking for something to do.
I don't think I like that very much. Nope, not at all.
However, I can't help but feel a tiny bit proud of the amazing human beings that God has blessed me with and I think, perhaps with His help I will be able to bare it...perhaps.
*tear, tear, tear*

Prayer

Dear Lord, I am asking for wisdom today to know how to best raise my kids. Help me to know when to discipline and when to give grace. Help me sense Your nearness so I don't feel so alone and overwhelmed with this task of being a mom. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

A Mother's Prayer Poem

I originally saw this poem framed and hanging in a dear friend's bathroom back in October. She did not realize that I copied it (via my cell phone) and placed it on our blog.

Today she emailed it to me...and today I needed it. I wanted to share it will all of you again.

A Mother's Prayer
Oh give me patience when tiny hands
Tug at me with their small demands.
And give me gentle & smiling eyes;
Keep my lips from sharp replies.
And let not fatigue, confusion or noise
Obscure my vision of life's fleeting joys.
So when years later and my house is still-
No bitter memories its room may fill.
~author unknown

A Day Full of Special Moments

I have had an abnormal busy week:

• Errands in town most of my day on Monday. In the evening PTO meeting.
• Tuesday I volunteered all day at my daughter's school. 4:30 the kids and I head down to help get things ready for MOPS night out and enjoy some special time together.
• Wednesday it's back to the school for another day of volunteering.

That may not seem like a busy week to some of you but to me that is almost an overload. Let me paint you a picture of what my house looked like as of this morning:

Five baskets of clean laundry in various rooms. Most needed folded and then put away some just needed put away. Peeking down in my laundry room I saw many piles of clothes screaming to be washed. The clothes hamper upstairs mocking me almost as it was overflowing! I cannot help but think...HOW can four people (and two of them so little) create SO much laundry?

In the kitchen I see a sink full of dirty dishes and a counter covered in pots and pans, dirty. I open the dishwasher to find it full of clean dishes to be put away. Not too bad really, but combined with the laundry?!

Ethan calls for me to help him reach the Legos in his room. I get them down only to drop them in the process (luckily we keep them in a tight box!). I bend down to pick them up and see dust bunnies on his floor.

Add to all of this: nasty leftovers in the fridge, toys in random places, a very dirty microwave, a 4 year old who wants all of your time and you get one overwhelmed mom!

I have to be honest. My day was not starting out so well.

On a normal non-busy week, I would let things go and spend extra time with Ethan. However, today I really could not stand the housework that has piled up. Because of my busy week Ethan got to spend EXTRA time with both of his Grandmothers. They give him their undivided attention all day long. After having 3 days of that, why should he expect otherwise from mommy?!

I tried to explain to him that mommy had to get things done! We worked out a schedule. I folded one basket of laudry and then played basketball with him for a bit. I cleaned the kitchen and then helped him build his train track. I folded more laundry and then helped him clean up his train track. I folded even more laundry and then we played ping pog. Things were working out pretty good until he decided that he was still not getting enough of my time or attention. I was back at the laundry and he seemed to be playing very nicely in his room when he walks out and says "Mommy, I need you for a minute." I follow him to his room and half way there he reaches out for me to take his hand. We walk in his room and he looks up at me and says "I need someone with long hair to play with me. Hmmmm (putting his little finger to his chin and scrunching his 'thinking' face)? Who has long hair that can play with me?! Who does mommy?" It was all I could do to not laugh at his seriousness. He then looks at me and says "MOMMY, YOU have long hair!!!!! YOU can play with me!" Can anyone tell me how I was suppose to resist that?!

Our bedtime routine was switched up a little tonight. For some reason neither of my kids wanted to read stories tonight. Brenna fell asleep on the couch and Ethan wanted to snuggle in my bed. I was reading as we snuggled and he grabbed another book of mine and pretended to be reading along with me. After about a minute or two he says "Mommy, how long are you going to look at that page?!" I explained. Shortly I turned the page only to see him turn his page. I quickly caught on and didn't wait long to turn my page again. He followed along. He was reading just like mommy!

So what I seem to remember as a day starting out feeling overwhelmed and torn ended as a day full of special memories created by special moments.

And you know what...I wouldn't trade it for anything...not even a spotless house!

I'm a Mom

Sometimes my children wipe some sort of slime on my purple sweater and it looks like a snail slid across my chest.
Sometimes I wear that slimed purple sweater into public places, not because I want to be a slob but because the trail is in a place I can't see.

Sometimes my children scream in the grocery store because I won't give them what they want, like cookies.
Sometimes I see the other people looking at the woman with the screaming children, and know they are wishing they could shop in peace. I wish I could shop in peace, too.

Sometimes I want to cuddle on the couch and watch a fun romantic movie with my husband, but the laundry still needs folded.
Sometimes he helps me as we watch the latest reality show, I count it as a date.

Sometimes there is an unidentifiable red splotch on the kitchen floor, but no one sticks to it.
Sometimes I don't mop for a really long time.
Sometimes the red splotch fades away carried in tiny parts on socks.
Sometimes I think that is gross and I mop.
Sometimes I think that is gross and want to mop, but there are books to be read, babies to be fed, and I'm the only one who sees the splotch.

I'm not perfect.

But as you look at this slimed woman with the screaming children who folded laundry into the night and hasn't mopped her kitchen in a while, remember

• she was slimed because she gave a child a hug or comforted a babe,
• she cares more about the character of her children than their momentary happiness,
• she will sacrifice her wants for her family's needs and find the blessing in what she has,
• she is going to chose those books, babies, art, walks, and smiles over the mopping, not everyday but enough for her children to know they are loved,
• she is going to keep a home clean and peaceful enough for her husband to know she loves him.

I am a mom. Perhaps I should tack this to my mirror.