Failed

I make plans for myself and my family. Sometimes those plans are verbalized. Often they are unwritten subtleties, unconscious expectations.

These are my enemies-these silent objectives.

They taunt me when unmet. They use names like unworthy and inadequate. On occasion they whip out the really powerful adjectives to titles I already claim: bad mother, loser wife.

Unspoken goals have powerful voices.

All too often I agree. I add my own label: failure. I claim that name for myself, worrying that my husband is disappointed and angry and that my children are being scarred beyond recognition. I carry that weight with me day in and day out till I can no longer stand under the burden.

I cry.

I seek out my husband asking if I am the failure I believe I am. I don't believe his answer.
I ask if he is disappointed in me, angry with my performance. I don't believe his answer.
I question my mothering listing all the times I could have done things differently. I don't believe his answer.

I pray that this burden be lifted, that I be forgiven for being less that everything, that I be made a wife and a mother worthy of these dear ones in my family. And I read:

Not that we are adequate in ourselves to consider anything as coming from ourselves,
but our adequacy comes from God.
2 Corinthians 3:5

And He speaks.

And I rest assured that in spite of my shortcomings, in spite of my weaknesses, in spite of my inadequacy, He will care for my family. For He loves them more than I ever could. He created them just as He created me. He knows that we together are but dust. In His love for all of us--husband, wife, children--He will make me adequate for this call to motherhood.

Today

I realize how behind I am.

And today, I don't want to be a mom anymore.

Can anyone relate?

Issues

Abigail is turning three. She was a two-year old delight, most of the time. But the last month or so hints at looming meltdowns, control issues, and other power-grabbing tactics. Add to that the baby coming in a few months and I am not holding my breath on the potential for a good year three.

In an effort to arm myself to the teeth, and to win the most recent battle, I appeal to your collective wisdom.

We have completed the potty training, I think. Days without soiled underwear are promising. I just should have waited till now. No more relenting under pressure from grandmothers, now I have friends!

Alright, that was just a distracted side note. We are having serious bedtime issues!

We follow a bedtime routine--watch a video, wash and brush, pjs, discuss what we are thankful for, read a Bible story, pray, sing two songs (one per parent), bed. This used to work.

Then she started crawling out of her bed to play. We set the timer. When it goes off, she must stay in her bed. This worked for a couple of weeks. Twice she fell asleep on the floor before the timer went off.

Now she cries. Well, it is more like howling. Chris calls it the birthing of a cow. For a really long time. Like hours. Until we go to bed. Do you know how hard it is to watch Amazing Grace when your child is bellowing as if being stuck with sharp sticks. We are well into our second week of this.

• We have prayed and told the monsters to leave.
• We have brought fresh water.
• We have taken her to the bathroom multiple times.
• We have sat on her bed with her.
• We have tried to reason.
  
• We have threatened turning out all the lights. (I actually did this and she ran screaming from the room.)
• Last night we threatened a spanking. She kept crying, but at a more ignorable pitch and volume. She fell asleep in her closet. No, we didn't put her there.

Tonight is coming quickly. I hope you all are reading and you have insight. Help, please!

Best Laid Plans

The golden egg was passed. I made the announcement. Pregnant. Due date: April 11th. A prior C-section means a scheduled C-section a week ahead of time. Actual date: somewhere around the first of April. I hope my mom has her spring break then.

Chris and I were weeks away from having an approved home study when I found out I was pregnant. Our profile was done, waiting for the signature of the supervisor of our case worker. We were going to adopt and our list of restrictions was small. I thought we would be matched and have a baby before MOPS started this year.

We don't have successful pregnancies. In fact we have only a 25% success rate. So I waited in fear for seventeen weeks to officially become inactive in the adoption process. Today, I wrote the email. I attached the letter. And with the fear I thought I had overcome, I sent the message. My heart convinced that upon clicking the "send" button the baby growing in my womb would be no more. I want to run to the doctor, hear the heartbeat, be reassured, but with no symptoms other than fear and that darn send button, I will not give in.

And tiny nudges from a body yet unseen growing strong and drawing close call me to the assurance of faith. That a God who sends me in a different direction will prove Himself faithful, gracious, and kind.

EBay Days

That is what I call them. Those days when my child seems to know where my buttons are and takes great joy in jumping on said button all day long.

Would I ever do it? Not on your life!

She is mine--button jumping and all--and I would fight to the death to keep her. But it is also nice to have some kind of expression for the days when nothing seems to go right in mothering. Saying it out loud gives voice to my very real feelings of being at the end, and something in those words works its way to God's ears and somehow, someway diffuses the situation with some humor and always an encouraged heart.

What about you? What is your expression? And how does it work?