Too Much Too Many

Today we made it out. We ventured out to Three Lakes Park with a packed lunch, scooters, water bottles and a rested baby brother in tow. Previously, we had made no bake energy balls, cleaned up our rooms, switched the laundry three times and even made chili for dinner. Today was not some magical out of the ordinary productive day. It was, in fact, quite a normal tuesday, where the twins do not have preschool, Luke takes a morning nap, and then we head out to a park or museum until Luke's afternoon nap and the big boys return from school. Today was full, took effort, and did not allow for much breathing room if everything that needed to happen was going to happen. That feels hard to me. I feel under water with the tasks at hand. Caring for my home - and i don't mean making it amazingly clean or organized or decorated - i mean very basic tasks like taking out the trash, throwing away the very rotten cantaloupe that somehow stayed on the counter for two too many days, cleaning up after Luke knocks everything off his high chair tray, are becoming less and less attainable. One thing leads to the next and before you know it, my house is a full on wreck. More than messy, its dirty, dishes are everywhere and knowing where to start seems like climbing Mt. Everest. And, then there is the task of actually parenting, and parenting well, my children. Speaking life into their little hearts, teaching them how to have self control, and personal responsibility takes emotional effort that I sometimes don't have when I have been trying to remember if the uniforms for tonight's games are washed, if I wrapped that birthday present, if I even have anything prepped for dinner. Whew. That was yesterday's reality. The reality of so much responsibility, so much work, so much to do and so little energy to get it done. My children do help around the house and would certainly tell you that they have more chores than any of their friends but they are also little. Their help is appropriate and I'm grateful for it. But, right now, I'm swamped. I'm in over my head. And, there I was swamped, in over my head, sitting on our back yard bench as my kids played in what could only be called a mud bath after they had just eaten ice cream - yes ice cream - for lunch after informing me that they had, in fact, not even eaten breakfast. Really? I said. No breakfast. Huh? How'd that happen? There we were, 11am eating ice cream for lunch and my ability to care at a big fat zero. But, I did care. I do care. I care so much that I broke down in tears knowing how helpless I was in that moment to do any of the things that I deemed necessary to care for those things entrusted to me. The task felt too big. The house felt too big. The yard felt too big. The kids seemed too many. I can't tell you that I had some amazing moment this morning where I realized that God is in control and He is going to see me through it. Although I know that to be true, I don't necessarily feel it. But, as I cried on the phone to my cousin, she reminded me that our home and our children were made in love and love is what would see us through. It is a lot. It is too much. But, my circumstances are not changing so I must figure out how to love where I am, be grateful for what I have, and leave everything else in the dust - or mud pool, if the twins will let me. I must dig deep, trust that God knows my family better than me and when I feel like the least capable person to care for them well, He see what I cannot see. He knows their needs, He knows my heart, and will knit us all tightly together in love. That is my prayer. That, and maybe for another au pair! 

Watching the Storm Come In

Last Thursday night, a big storm was headed our way. You could tell by the darkening of the sky even though it was only 4pm. The trees swayed harder and the smell of rain approaching filled the air. A storm was coming in. “Hurry up kids,” I yelled through the house. “Come to the front porch. Let’s watch the storm come in.” 

My father in law was in town visiting. He looked at my like I had lost my mind. “You are going outside, now?” He said, “But, Taylor, there is a storm coming in.”

Exactly. 

As a child, I learned to see the signs of a storm coming. My dad could feel it. He could see it and he taught me to see it coming too. The power and mystery of a storm entriged him and he brought me into that world on our front porch swing. Covered by our porch, we would rock and stare into the sky. The clouds would begin to move faster, the sky turn to a darker shade of grey, and faint thunder could be heard along with rain beginning to fall. There we would stay counting the seconds between the thunder and lightning gaging how far away the storm actually was. 4 miles. Lighting flash. Thunder boom. 3 miles. It’s closer and closer now. 2 miles. The rain would get heavier, the sky darker, the wind faster. And we would stay. 1 mile. Still swinging on our front porch. And here it is. The storm is finally here and here we remain in awe of the power, in awe of the harsh, scary beauty of a storm. Finally the lightning would get too close and the rain too hard and we would retreat inside to watch the rest by the window in the den. 

I pulled my children out into the storm last Thursday night and it was beautiful. We sat under our large covered porch to see a familiar sight. Rain pelting down, trees swaying, lighting and thunder displaying their power. The children were enamered. We counted down the storm’s distance and remained together on our porch until it was right above us. And, there we stayed. Through the powerful rain, the rocking trees and even the thunder and lighting we stayed. We remained together for entirety of the storm until the peace of the sky was restored and the dark clouds parted. Light returned and at 5pm, we felt like we had ventured through to another world and returned home. 

What a gift that storm was to me. In that moment, I felt like God granted me a gift to connect my children to my dad and his love of nature. The storm of losing my dad has been the hardest storm to sit through. I don't want to remain in the sadness, remain in the memory of his loss, remain in the pain of the space left by his absence. But, memories of sitting on that porch swing remind me to be still, to watch the power of the storm do its work and to not run away. I know from every storm I've watched that no matter how powerful, how dark, how terrifying a storm is, it will end and the light will return. The clouds will part. The rain will stop. The sun will return. And, how appreciative I am when all that is calm and warm and peaceful surround me and my family on our front porch. 

Reality

Life in 10 Format

My dear friend’s husband got a vasectomy today. She had been asking for it for 6 years. Six years she thought it was the right decision for their family. As he finally agreed, set up the appointment, and started to fill out the paperwork, she hesitated. Doubt, fear, confusion, and sadness set in. Why was she sad? Did she really want more children? After the procedure, she wept – really wept, like ugly cry – in the car. Her reality is what led her to the decision in the first place – finances, needs of other children, age, the capacity of the home, health concerns. But now the reality of her future was certain. There would be no more biological children to be carried in her body, birthed through her, fed by her, held late at night. No tiny hands to hold as they learn to walk, no faint “ma-ma” sounds from a baby’s mouth, no first day of Kindergartens. That reality was slapping her in the face. I can relate. My husband had the same surgery when I was pregnant with our 5^th child. I know that seems strange and we had so many people encourage us to wait until he was born and healthy. But, my reality is such that I knew I could not under any circumstances be pregnant again no matter what happen with Luke. My reality is that it is a desperate fight to make it through the hormone roller coaster of pregnancy and postpartum without dipping into darkness. My reality is that my 5 children have tons of needs that I am at capacity to meet. My reality is that my family as I know it is complete. But as I listened to my friend’s heartache for the absence of children in the future, I too grieved. The relief of moving on to a new and different stage with my children is exciting – freeing even – but there is a deep sadness that is pierced when the finality of children is decided. The huge part of us as women to create, grown, birth, sustain, teach, and love our children is partitioned off and redirected to children transitioning to adults. We must wrap up that disheveled, sleep-deprived, terribly beautiful stage of building our family and move towards shepherding and loving those already here with us. 

Recently

My son Henry was up to bat yesterday at his Richmond little league baseball game. He’s not the best player on the team but sure does work hard. He hasn’t gotten a hit all season. As I was talking with another mom on the team, whose son is also named Henry, I told her that I really hoped my Henry would get a hit tonight. She said she couldn’t watch her Henry strike out anymore so she didn’t even watch as he went up to bat. “I know, it’s hard,” I said “but, I keep filming in case that one up to bat is it.” And, I explained, today would be my dad’s birthday. “He recently passed away,” I explained “and he loved the game of baseball.” I’m really thinking tonight is going to be the night henry gets a hit. I go up to the fence, Iphone through the chain link fence and film each swing. Crack! He connects. Henry runs to first. The first basemen misses the ball and Henry runs to second. The next player up to bat gets out but it allows Henry to steal third base. The next player gets a hit and Henry runs home. He scores for his team! Heart is racing – his and mine – and we are all smiles, well, he is all smiles. I am, of course, tearing up through my sunglasses that I put back on even though it was 7:30pm. The sweet mom gives me a high five and says “the stars aren’t out yet but they saw everything. I know your dad is smiling.” It was a great gift. Later, though, I thought about what I had said to that mom. “My dad recently passed away.” I’m not sure that is entirely true and was grateful she didn’t ask how long it had been. We are coming up on three years this summer. Three years. Is that recently? Some times it feels so very recent. Some days and some nights my heart races and tears stream down remembering the exact moment I learned he had died. How I collapsed on the floor of a cabinet store and had to be carried outside. But, then, other days it seems that he has been gone through so much. A move, a baby, my kids growing up, vacations, hikes, nights sky views, birthdays, anniversaries…. A lot has happened in almost three years. So, was I wrong? Is recent not accurate? Maybe it’s not recent in the conventional sense but recent in the way it impacted me. The “before my dad died” and “after my dad died” line had been drawn in the sand recently and there was no way to think of life differently. Grief is recent and far away. It is every present and sneaky. It the crack of a baseball bat, the song on the radio, the taste of a certain ice cream but it is also a great void that no matter how much actual time has passed may not affect the pain left in doing life without someone we love. 

Conversation with Henry 2/12/18

Callaway runs up to me to "tell on" Henry. He said that I lost "like I always do." Those words had hurt Callaway's feelings after an upset in Beyblades, this new fascination with an asian mini version of battle bots. Unfortunately I wasn't surprised by the words Callaway had reported. I believed what he said because I've heard Henry use such words in the past. He struggles to allow others to shine and feels it necessary to always remind of us of what he is good at and how well he did at something. It's an ugly side of a wonderful young man but I pray God will continue to humble his tender heart.
But, this time something was different. I called them both over to rehash the situation and it quickly became evident that Callaway had added the part where Henry said "like I always do." Yes, Henry had pointed out that Callaway had lost and probably could have been a more gracious winner but Callaway exaggerated to make his point.

Henry lost it right then and there. His precise, attention to detail, justice-loving self burst into tears. He hated that Callaway lied in order to "get him in trouble" or at least attempt to. He went on and on about how Callaway purposely cheats in games, does not do things "the right way" and then lies to get him in trouble. Through his tears and huge sighs, I was having trouble discerning if this was from the fear of getting in trouble, ruining his reputation as a "good kid" and having to face his own shortcomings as a loving brother. Or, was this more? Was this a genuine disdain for things not being done "right."

Finally, the more we talked, I could sense his real issue of Callaway not doing what is right and Henry not being able to fix him quickly. Henry said, "I see Callaway doing it to Mills - not playing the game right, taking advantage of him so he can win, cheating, and I just can't stand it. I try to stop him to protect Mills, but he won't stop. I don't want him to do to Mills what he has done to me. I want him to change but he doesn't stop when I tell him to stop." And, we just entered a new zone. Henry has true intense empathy with a desire to see righteousness displayed. My eyes filled up with tears and in that moment was so thankful for how God has made him and yet so pained that he was carrying a heavy burden like trying to change his brother even if it was for his other brother's good. I know that feeling. I know that heavy burden and I know when I am carrying something that isn't mine to carry. I knew in that moment God's wisdom was so necessary as I tried to make my way through these complex emotions of his and mine. Years of deep feelings, unfair sibling treatment, and misunderstanding came flooding through my mind but I asked God to help me see Henry for Henry only - not myself at Henry's age. "Help me Lord, to teach him what I wish I had been taught at his age."

I thanked Henry for his desire for things to be "right and fair" and for his protection of his brother Mills. I told him what a gift from God it is to feel what someone else is going through, see their pain and hurt, and have the courage to do something about it. But, I also tried to explain that we cannot carry burdens that are not ours. I knew in that moment that I needed to step up with my parenting with Callaway. He tends to get away with more, get his own way, and can have a sneaky bent towards his words and actions. Unfortunately, sandwiched in the middle of an older sensitive child and twins and then a new baby, Callaway - a happy, go lucky type - gets to float on his own. But, I see that Henry has been picking up my slack and feeling the need to parent Callaway. I told Henry that if he sees Callaway doing something wrong, to continue to tell Callaway to do what is right but that if does not respond, to come get me and let me handle it. From there, he has done his job to see the unjust action and respond appropriately. "Let me be the parent," I told him.

Then the harder part to understand. We cannot change people. As much as we could like to reason with people, show them how to change, and even have their best interest in mind, we, in our humanness, cannot affect real change in someone else's heart. That, my son, is God's job alone. We can pray and hope for someone's sin to be revealed to them -whether through the holy spirit or through those that they sin against -  and see the heartache and pain they may be causing. But, true heart change can only come from God. And, we have to be patient and loving while those around us walk out their salvation with the most patient and most loving God who is continually gracious to never give up on us and to finish a good work until its completion. God has promised that he will "make everything beautiful in its own time." That is God's time and not our own time.

A Letter to my Future Self

·      Motherhood is hard. It is physically, emotionally and spiritually draining. I want to come as a relief to you. I want to bring you food, clean your house, do your laundry and care for the children when I come so that you can sleep, shop, read, or just enjoy your home without the worry of housework. I will be out of the stage of being needed 24/7 and want to lift that burden from you when I can. Like my mother said, “I can be tired for a night or two. I can sleep when I get home. You can’t.”

·      There are many paths to take in motherhood and yours will certainly change along the way as you grow and learn. There will be many voices, books, preachers, friends, and blogs telling you what to do and how to mother. Listen to your voice, your mama intuition. You will know what is best by trying, by praying, and by being the mama you are at that very moment. I want you to know that I will be there for you every step of the way. I will not judge what you are doing but enter into your sacred space as a mother who has walked before you and will gladly help if you want it. 

·      Your body is beautiful and in the meantime, I want to make sure you have clothes that fit.

·      Money is tight when you have children. When I am in town, I will pay for food and trips and really anything that I can. It will be a blessing to bless you.

·      If they bottle feed, offer to stay up and do the night feedings for them.

·      If they nurse, encourage her that it will get better. It is not always picture perfect right at first or ever but she can do it. It is work that is worth it.

·      I you see something that needs fixing in their house, fix it for them if they give permission. They are too tired to care about it or to fix it. I will not point it out and do nothing about it.

·      Babysit for them so they can have a date night. Treat them to that date night.

·      Spend time with the grandkids. They want your time, not your toys.

·      Make it as easy as possible for your children to come visit, especially when they have children (have baby gear, toys, buy diapers/wipes/formula/food for them, have a meal plan, fill up their car with gas), and thank them for coming and recognize all the effort it takes to travel anywhere with children.

·      Your daughter in law is not your daughter. Your family is new to her and you will never be her best friend or mother. Give her space and love on her the best you can. Do not take everything she does personally. Give her space to be the mama to her family and wife to your son. Your son loves her and that's why you'll love her too.

·      I must remember where your validation comes from - the lord! If I am looking for security in anything else (your spouse, your kids, your job, your body) I will be insecure and overly sensitive. I will be too concerned with yourself to serve your family.

·      I am the matriarch of your family. You set the tone for love, hospitality, and joy. Do not think that your time serving is over because your children are grown and "you've done your time." Christ served us until his death. It is our joy to serve our family.

·      When you go to visit you children, you are entering their space. Point out the positive things. Do not pick on the few things that could change. If they want help with their home, they will ask. Bring food when you come. It's a burden to stay with others even if they really want you there. Bring food, do laundry, change the sheets, be a blessing!

·      and of course, pray for her and your relationship with her. she is a sweet baby right now whose mama is rocking her, loving her, and hopefully telling her about Christ and the wonderful earthly man she will one day get to love. that earthly man is my son. 

So Clear Now

It all seems so clear now. Driving on 85 north towards Richmond in the pouring rain, back pain at a 7, and a crushed up Bojangles bag to my right. My baby is sleeping in the back seat and is surrounded by the 6 bags - yes 6 bags -it took the two of us to travel for two nights to my mom's house. Though the sky is dreary, the music is quiet to keep the baby asleep, and my eyelids are so droopy from exhausted, my own voice is screaming loudly at me. Why did you do this? Why did you put yourself through this? Why did you think this would be a good idea? And, why, oh please tell me why, when on Thursday when you realized it wasn't the best idea for you did you continue with the plan in place when a simple, "Hey mom, actually, I've realized its probably best for me to stay in Richmond this weekend" could have saved me from two days of little sleep, critique of my body and family, spending money I had not planned on, facing memories I was too tired to face, and hitting the trigger button on eating issues that I have worked so hard to control.

And there it is, the real issue - frustration. Frustration at myself for saying yes when I should have said no. Frustration at myself for even needing somewhere to go overnight. Frustration at letting her still get to me. Frustration that I gave in to those binge eating feelings and let them master me.

And, I know, I know. This is a life lesson. "Next time you won't do this" Ill tell myself. My husband, who is ever so gracious, will tell me. Its ok. Its over. Let's move on from it and try to remember for next time. And, he's right. So, here is my remembrance for next time. My fear of staying home alone is better to face than the barrage of comments, thoughts, tiny actions that make me feel never good enough around her. I was scared that if I stayed home alone, I would use my free time to indulge - eat whatever I wanted, watch as many shows as I wanted, and ultimately worried that I would freak out come 11pm and not be able to sleep. Well, guess what? The same happened in NC at my moms but I ate out of suppressing emotion, I indulged in her world of thinking that appearances matter and could somehow make me enjoy motherhood more, and didn't end up sleeping much at all thanks to an unhappy traveler of a baby and finally getting some time to myself and wanting to enjoy the quiet.

But, I couldn't disappoint her. I couldn't call her and change her plans. I knew she would be crushed. But, here I am crushed at the start of a new week when the demands are so high and I so deeply want to be available and ready to parent and love those in this house. I put her needs above my own and as I unpack those 5 bags, 3 new clothing bags, and look at my messy house with 7 loads of laundry waiting for me, I think of how unwise it really was to have gone. So, I did surrender some of my people pleasing and told her I was going to leave early this morning instead of staying until after church and lunch where she was going to "show us off." She was disappointed but I was so exhausted, so overwhelmed, and so desperate to get into my own home and start anew, that I was able to push those uncomfortable feelings of disappointment and do what I knew to be best. Its crazy because it was actually a fine weekend with her. Her snide comments were less, she seems genuinely grateful that I came, and she was very generous with buying me so many clothes. But, none of that is worth the feeling I have now. Sitting her typing this with complete exhaustion, a fussy baby playing on the floor and the work it will take to recover from being with her. So, here is my reminder. Here is my note to self.