mom stuff – Page 2

me time in the midst of a rushed season

I get it, we’re all busy. (We all remember this sassy post, right?) While I would love to have a less full calendar and I love the idea that we stop glorifying busy, it also doesn’t mean things can slow down for some of us right now. (I’m six weeks into the school year at this point and still trying to get new routines and rhythms established right now–it is the most hectic time of year for me.)

Maybe you’ve got small kids at home that demand all of your time. Or work is stressful and you’ve got to have a job so there’s no way around it. Or maybe your extended family is in an upheaval right now and you’re being pulled a million different ways.

It seems there is always something that requires our attention, our time, and our limited resources.

So how do we find rest and rejuvenate in the midst of a chaotic season? How do we still take care of ourselves when we’re taking care of others and a never-ending to-do list?

That’s a really good question. A really good question I don’t know how to answer completely because it’s different for everyone. So while all these ideas might not work for you, I pray that a couple of them can be incorporated into your life so that you can rest–even momentarily–and be re-energized enough to tackle your day (or just the next hour…). Because we all know that we can’t take care of others well if we’re not taking care of ourselves well first.

Sacred drive time
You know the only silence I get in my day? The fifteen minutes I drive from home to work and then from work to home. I refuse to talk on the phone during these times, I don’t try to multitask or catch up with friends. This is my time to prepare for the day, or to unwind from a stressful day of work so I don’t take it out on my family when I get home. Find your non-negotiable sacred quiet time and then guard it with your life. I look forward to those few minutes where no one needs anything from me and it helps me be more attentive when it’s time to serve others again.

Know when to say ‘no’
You can’t do it all. You know that and so does everyone else. So stop saying ‘yes’ to every offer or plea. Make your ‘yes’ mean more by being selective. And don’t apologize for your ‘no’. Let it be enough because you are enough.

Get up earlier
This one is hard. No one wants to give up twenty to thirty minutes of precious sleep when it feels like we never get enough anyway. But getting up just a few minutes earlier than normal to read your Bible, get your calendar or to-do list ready, or just sit in your quiet kitchen with some hot tea, giving yourself a few minutes before you face the day can set the tone in a positive way for everything else heading your way.

Find your guilty pleasure
It doesn’t actually have to be guilt-inducing either. Find a good book to read before bed, even if it’s just the five minutes you have before you doze off. Find a juicy TV series to wait anxiously for each week (Scandal, anyone??), find a podcast you can’t wait to finish, or even listen to an audiobook. Find something that you can love, obsess over in a healthy way (hello, Fitz on Scandal…), and share your love with friends or neighbors. Talking about a great book you just read, a show’s jaw-dropping season finale, or why your favorite character made a crazy decision is a great break from reality and sometimes a distraction.

Once a month dinner plans (or once a week phone dates)
Can you spare one evening a month to have dinner with a friend? I know I preach about this all the time, but seriously, get some friend time on the schedule and then stick to it. It doesn’t have to be costly; pack a picnic and go sit in the park with a friend. Or ask a few friends to have dinner at a set time every month, you won’t all be able to make it every month, but getting into the rhythm of meeting with friends will give you something to look forward to.

What are ways you make sure to include self-care in your day? Locking yourself in the bathroom is a totally acceptable answer. Do you fit in exercise that makes you feel alive? Make sure you step away from your desk for lunch every day so you have to stop working? What gets you a little rest in the midst of a bustling life or season?

This post originally appeared on FancyLittleThings.com.

my Elliott Quinn

Six years ago yesterday I became a mother.

I didn’t give too much thought to what kind of mother I would be, I just thought we’d figure it out together, Elliott Quinn and I. And while we’re still working out the kinks, I feel like we’re on the right path. I’m proud to be her mommy and I’m proud to tell you about her today.

My six year old loves T. Swift. She knows the words to all her songs and even sings “fella over there with the hella good hair” with abandon. Lately we’ve had discussions about words we hear in songs versus words we say in real life.

She doesn’t necessarily have a lisp, but she says words wrong no matter how many times you correct her. She has ten thingers instead of fingers. We recently watched the Super Balls instead of the Super Bowl. Elliott does not like to go by Elliott, she prefers Ellie, thank you very much. She’s a great big sister: bad at sharing, bossy, and sorta mean occasionally. She wants to be a princess and an artist when she grows up, she is a mama’s girl through and through, and she wants a kitty so bad she can’t see straight. If you come to our house, you will leave with a minimum of five masterpieces created just for you. She will write “I love you” with her big, swoopy letters and ask you how to spell your name.

Ellie is sensitive, a great sleeper, and learning to read. She’s lost three teeth and has two more loose ones. She loves to show me her loose teeth because it completely freaks me out. My favorite sound in the world is hearing her giggle at something. Not just laugh because she’s being tickled, but giggle loudly because her sense of humor is her own. The things she finds funny are amazing.

Somewhere in the last year, she has lost her baby-ness and become lean and bony. She’s taller than all her classmates, lanky and hard in places that used to be chubby and soft. I am afraid for her body in her teen years, it will be more beautiful than it should be. I am afraid for boys to notice her. I want her to be young and child-like for as long as possible and even at six I can feel it slipping away.

But six is exciting. Ellie started asking about her sixth birthday two days after turning five. It’s been a long time coming and the shortest year of my life.

Happy birthday, Ellie Q. Your mama loves you.

#ifsheonlyknew

Recently I posted a picture on Instagram of a flower my daughter gave to me. She handed it to me asking me to keep it in my pocket all day while I was at school so I could remember her while I was gone.

I smiled sweetly at her and stuck it in my pocket, completely in awe of a little girl that means so much to me and is so much a part of who I am that I couldn’t believe she had to ask me to remember her while I was gone. And I know that she’s five and it’s not that deep for her, but for me it is.

As a mom, it was big and deep and encompassing.

Because until the moment she has her own children, she won’t get it. She won’t understand the depth to which everything I do revolves around her (and her sister) in some way. She can’t understand that no matter what I’m thinking about, my children are there on the edge or front and center, taking up space, love, worry, and joy.

I am their mother and it’s not just because I birthed them. It’s not just because I have constantly bruised shins because they climb on me and run into me all the time. I am their mother because I decided to make their lives my life’s work. Not my only work, but my greatest work. So everything I do, whether I consciously think about it or not, is for or about them.

They’re in my bones, my being, and my blood. They’re in my laugh, my tears, and my dreams.

And, as of last week, they’re in my pocket too.

to worry less about the mess

This post was first published in June 2013 but is getting new life thanks to reFresh Friday.

Hi, my name is Mary and I am a party pooper.

Okay, not technically, since I’m more of a only-like-to-poop-at-home pooper. But I do like to kill the joy of would-be activities my children dream up often.

See, I have this problem with mess. Like, really big problem with mess. And so when my sweet children want to do something fun like make a giant blanket fort in the basement or finger paint before naps, I automatically say no.

Because my first thought isn’t about how my fun it will be or what they can learn or the joy it will bring them, my first thought it well, that will make a mess and I don’t want to clean it up.

I’m that uptight mom that says no just because.

And I’ve acknowledged this character flaw. I even wrote it down as a reminder to not immediately say no to all requests my daughters make. And now I’m sharing it with you so I can work it out in my little brain. Because that’s what this blog does for me. The writing helps me process and I really don’t want to be the no-fun mom so I need to processthissituationout.

I do have spurts of okay-with-the-messiness. There are certain times where the mess is fine. But not for very long or I get itchy and really shaky. I’m sure there’s a pill for this, but I prefer to be uptight and bitchy than rely on medication. (Unless there’s a skinny pill and then I’ll take it…wait, isn’t that crack? Okay, I’m not sure I’ll take it. Let me think about it.)

When I was younger, our house was often turned into a giant haunted house. In the middle of summer complete with loud scary music and fake hatchets covered in red lipstick for effect. Or we’d spend a fall day in our clothesline tent playing house and adding rooms with whatever sheets we could find. And I don’t remember my mom being worried about the mess. But I remember the fun we had.

I want that for my own kids.

I want them to remember carting out every single blanket we own so they could have a camp out under their swing set. I want their imaginations to run wild with the possibilities of a cardboard box and some markers. I want finger paint under their nails and glitter forever in their hair.

I want to not care about the mess.

That’s pretty much my only goal for this summer.

being strong, obviously.

Being a grown up isn’t all its cracked up to be, folks. I mean, it has its benefits: I don’t have a bedtime (even though it would be helpful to have someone make me go to bed, I’d probably get more sleep that way), I get to drive anywhere I want (although a chauffeur sounds reallllly relaxing), and my mom is no longer in charge of my haircuts (I don’t have anything I miss about that because I had bad haircuts as a child, but I wanted to keep up the pattern of parenthesis). The older I get, the more I realize I shouldn’t have pushed so hard to grow up. I should have taken more time at being a kid, being irresponsible and carefree.

(skinnies: Forever 21, blouse: Kohls, heels: Target, clutch: Kohls, bangles: Forever 21) (Photography by Kaitlyn Meeks Photography)

I know I wouldn’t have listened if someone had told me to slow down but it’s nice to pretend. I was a nasty little child that knew everything so I didn’t need advice from dumb adults. But if I could tell my daughters anything, it would be that they need to slow down. Stop trying to be so big because your mama can’t handle it very well. When you get too big for my lap, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. Maybe I’ll make you hold me instead. I’m sure we will figure something out. Or we could get a hammock where we can squish together and talk about your day. Because hammocks squish people into each other whether you try to maintain personal space or not. And your mama wants to be squished up next to you forever.

Can you tell Ellie is starting kindergarten today?

I think I’m handling it pretty well, thanks for asking.

DISCLOSURE: AFFILIATE LINKS USED.

just hiding out in the men’s restroom

This post was first published in June 2010 but is getting new life thanks to reFresh Friday.

Title of Play: Why People Don’t Hang Out With Us Anymore

Scene 1: O’Charley’s Lobby
We’re waiting to be seated for Father’s Day dinner with Chris’ dad. An old man with a very tight shirt tucked in to very tight shorts and suspenders enters. We giggle at him and then are seated.

Scene 2: The Table
As we’re finishing dinner, I notice my daughter has pooped. And by “notice” I mean see it smeared all over the highchair she is sitting in. I immediately freak out. I grab some napkins and in one fluid motion Chris picks Elliott up, I cover her in napkins, and he runs off to the men’s bathroom. I spend thirty seconds wiping poop off the highchair hoping no one is throwing up their dinner because of us and then follow them.

Scene 3: The Men’s Bathroom
I knock on the door and no one else is in there so I go in. Chris, Elliott, and I are locked in the only stall with Elliott spread-eagle on the changing table while I try to clean up her poop-plosion. The cute white shorts she was wearing were a casualty and had to be tossed. We get everything under control as someone (a man, obviously) comes into the bathroom. Elliott takes this opportunity to start saying “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy…” and since I can’t talk I whisper to Chris to make her stop yelling my name. Which backfires because it’s a well-known fact that when it is really important not to laugh, you will find the most things to laugh at. So Chris is trying to talk to Elliott, trying to stop laughing, and trying to whisper in my ear to tell me about the world’s longest pee-er next to us. But his whispering in my ear turns into nothing but hot breath and “huu huu huu huu” because he can’t get it together.

So now Elliott’s all cleaned up and we’re just waiting for Austin Powers to leave so I can sneak out of the men’s bathroom. Well, no sooner does that guy leave then the white Steve Urkle from the lobby come in. He pees and then proceeds to wash his hands (good boy!) and use fifteen paper towels to dry them. Ooh, and O’Charley’s has the paper towel dispenser where you put your hand in front of it and it gives you one towel then it resets and then you can get another one. So drying his hands took about three minutes.

He finally leaves and we dash out of the stall. I’m heading for the women’s restroom so I can wash my hands and Chris is taking Elliott back to the table. As I hurry out the door, the old man turns around and we make eye contact just as I’m in the men’s bathroom doorway. I freeze because I know he thinks I just watched him pee and then I dash to the other bathroom. I take my time washing my hands and when I leave the guy is gone. I know he thinks I’m a perv. And if we weren’t in Greenfield, that title might have bothered me.

when i deserved that slap across the face

This post was first published in January 2014 but is getting new life thanks to reFresh Friday.

Sitting in Jimmy Johns eating a delicious unwich the other day, it hit me: Elliott is reaching the age where she’ll remember this stuff for the rest of her life. In that moment, her daddy was acting silly and she was cackling loudly, her laugh echoing through the whole restaurant and the thought of this moment being burned in her memory forever just hit me. Hard.

I have vivid memories of kindergarten. I have a few from before that too. So my daughter, who will start kindergarten this year, will remember what she’s doing, saying, and feeling. We’re making memories right now that will last forever in her mind.

This thought is overwhelming to me.

Up until this point, we’ve been teaching and showing her things that we hope she’ll remember (be kind to others, wash your hands after you go to the bathroom, forgive your sister when she hits you, talk in your indoor voice, don’t pick your nose), but now she’s going to have actual childhood memories that will stay with her.

She’ll have memories she will tell her kids one day. She’ll be able to recall that funny thing her Daddy said or the way her Mommy made her feel. These days will come up later, in her stories, in her dreams, in her soul.

Maybe with her therapist.

This is the first time I remember feeling so overwhelmed with the task of parenting. I had moments when Elliott was first born and they just let me take her home from the hospital like I knew what I was doing. But we figured it out, Chris, Elliott, and I. We made mistakes (like the time I wanted so badly to save a poop-covered onesie that I pulled it over her head and got poop all over her face and in her hair…and then the onesie ended up being stained and I had smeared poop all over my baby for no reason) and we learned. But she doesn’t remember all those times, they were like free passes: I got to learn a lesson and recover while she sat their too little to remember my mistakes.

Now she’ll remember. And I’m praying that she looks back at those memories with love and grace. It might be a while, it might take years, but I hope one day, when she’s thinking back to her childhood and how once, in a fit of childish rage, her mom yelled at her to shut up!, she’ll know it had nothing to do with her. That she’ll understand her Mommy is flawed and broken and messy.

Once when I was in high school, my mom slapped me across the face. We were standing outside the laundry room, right down the hall from my bedroom, and I don’t remember all the details, but I know I should have been in school, so it must have been a snow day or something because my sister and I were both home. My mom and I were in the middle of a fight and I said something rude or hurtful, knowing, in all my high school wisdom, just the right, nasty thing to say and my mom reacted by slapping me across the face. After that, no words were spoken. I turned around and left and my mom went the other way. I remember this vividly, like it happened yesterday. Just typing it brings back this feeling of absolute emptiness I had in that moment.

But here’s what else I know as a thirty-two year old adult: that I probably deserved to be slapped, that what my mom probably should have done is pummel me into the ground, that slapping me was probably the lesser of all the evils she could think of in that moment, that my mom is flawed and broken, that she always did what she thought was best. And that she loves me fiercely.

Parenting is overwhelming.

That is not a complaint, it’s just a fact. I signed up for this gig (sort of blindly…), but it seems like each time my kid grows, I have to re-learn parenting. I have to start over, forget everything I thought was right, and do it differently. Sure, some things stay the same, but most of it doesn’t.

And now, Ellie will remember. She’ll remember the fun, the giggling, the yelling, the trouble, the mistakes, the trips, the experiences, the words. That realization is bringing a whole new layer to what my actions mean and what is truly important. And it’s hitting me hard.

mom guilt and the seasons

I learn something new about mom-guilt almost every day. I learn what it is, what it isn’t, what power it has over me, and what power I have over it. Sometimes I win and sometimes I don’t.

Currently, I’m working on friendship. On being a friend, investing the time and energy in people, being intentional about relationships. Because truthfully, I’m pretty content to stay at home and read a book. But I don’t want the end result of staying at home and reading a book: the lack of deep relationships and community.

So I’m joining communities. I’m making relationships important and putting dates on the calendar. They become real and intentional when I schedule the time for them.

But with this new sense of need for community comes my children missing their mommy. When do you do community when you work full time, want to go to the gym a few times a week, and still need to sleep at some point? Where does community fit when I have to cook dinner most nights, we have family commitments, and, for the love of God, can we get a date night every once in a while?

That’s where I’m at right now. Things are scheduled, dinners are happening, small groups are small-grouping, but I haven’t seen my kids all week and I know they just want to stay home and watch a movie with their mom. Yes, a little time spent on the floor with some blocks and dolls sounds great, but we need groceries and so we’ve got to get going.

I know I’m a better mom and a better wife when I get to have dinner with my girlfriends. I’m a better Jesus-follower when I get to be in community with fellow Jesus people. I am more introspective and thoughtful when I can sit and talk to my friend, Christine, for a few hours. These are all good and beneficial things. I’m happier when those things happen regularly.

But somewhere in juggling all these wants, needs, and desires, I always leave another area lacking. And mom guilt sets in. I don’t actually play the lottery, but sometimes I dream about winning it so I wouldn’t have to work anymore. Then I feel it would all balance out.

I know that’s not truth, but I feel like it sometimes anyway.

I think I’ve purged a lot of unnecessary things out of my life: unnecessary friends, unnecessary relationships, unnecessary time commitments, unnecessary stuff. So I can’t cut more out, I just need more time.

Or maybe, stepping back, I need to allow myself more grace. What do you think? How do you make it work? Or do you not make it work? What gives??

elliott quinn turns five.

Sometimes at dinner, she takes a time out to come over and hug me. More often than not, I remind her to stay in her seat during dinner. I shouldn’t worry about that and just enjoy the hug more. I know that one day she won’t have a spontaneous need to hug me.

Tomorrow my firstborn child turns five years old. It seems unfathomable that she will be that old, that we’ll head to kindergarten round-up soon, that she’s got a loose tooth. She is the perfect big sister, bossy and helpful at the same time. She loves kitties above all else, but wants to have a poodle when she grows up. And when she’s all grown up with that poodle, she’s going to be a princess who dances all day. Dancing is her favorite.

Next week we’re having her princess tea party complete with fancy china and glassware from the thrift shop. All her friends are wearing their princess gowns and, unbeknownst to her, a “real” princess will be attending the party too complete with games, story time, and a coronation ceremony. Her little head would explode if I told her everything that’s going to happen at her party.

I can’t wait to see her face. Can’t wait to see her all dressed up in her princess gown, running around with her friends, screaming at the top of their lungs. She’s already requested the nail polish color she wants to wear for her party. I don’t know where this extreme girly-ness comes from. It’s not in my nature, not in my childhood, not in the way I mother. But to see her become this child, this girl, who loves all things pink and dressy and sparkly tickles me to no end.

I can’t wait to see where she goes, what she becomes, the woman that she will end up one day. And I thank my God every single moment I have with her, that I get to be a part of her story and that she made mine better than I could have ever imagined.

Happy birthday Elliott Quinn.

bruises, wrinkles, and a Dora bandaid

(dress & sweater: Old Navy, sandals: Target, necklace: Forever 21)

Being a mom is rough.

I am constantly covered in bruises from my children. They’re only two and four and they’re girls, but somehow I am always saying “ouch, get off me!” when I’m around them.

Maybe they’re love bruises? I’m obviously loved well if you check out my legs. And, if you could, my arms.

I’m covered in bruises all the time.

Also, I’m wearing a Dora bandaid in the pictures above. There was a early morning shaving accident that due to non-stop bleeding, I thought was going to end with a trip to the ER. It was like I hit a major artery with my Bic.

Just another reason why shaving your legs is overrated.

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This post originally appeared on FancyLittleThings.com.

This post was first published in June 2013 but is getting new life thanks to reFresh Friday.

(skinnies: Forever 21, blouse: Kohls, heels: Target, clutch: Kohls, bangles: Forever 21) (Photography by Kaitlyn Meeks Photography)

This post was first published in June 2010 but is getting new life thanks to reFresh Friday.

This post was first published in January 2014 but is getting new life thanks to reFresh Friday.

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