Momma Knows Best…

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I stood there in my kitchen with all three of them screaming at the top of their tiny lungs.  Each wanted Mommy and for different reasons that would require me to be nothing less than Wonder Woman.  My lighting belt and mad skills were MIA at the moment.  My brain was mush and my energy miserably depleted, so all I could do was chop #2’s apple and yell over all the noise, “I hear you!”  In reality, I wanted to high tail it out of there and jump on the next plane to the Bahamas.  Mai Tai anyone?!  But this was life.  My life.

It’s like this most days.  I feel like at least one of them is always screaming or whining or talking loudly enough to be heard in Canada.  My poor neighbors… I wish I could apologize to you daily!  But the littles have taken over my life and they always need to make sure Mommy knows what’s up.  And trust me sweet child, I do.  There’s just one thing I think you and your brothers may have overlooked.

I’m human.  Yes, it’s true.  I know you are shocked and you truly cannot fathom why I can’t do everything all at once all the time… like seriously, all the time.  But, alas, the truth has now come out!  I don’t have it all together.  Sorry to disappoint.

And dear children you will come to find that we parents will at times loose our junk.  We will look around and think, “Dear Lord, what have I done?  The mutiny has come!”  But rest assured little ones, we will find solidarity in the fact that nobody can do it all.

I’m doing my best.  And so are you, fellow parenting warrior.  It’s my personal best, not yours.  And after three kids, I’ve come to realize I can’t compare my best to yours.  We need to make sure to leave our ‘bests’ in our own homes because until we walk in each others’ shoes, we will never really know the full story.  We can somehow knit together a sketchy narrative of what we think is happening and how we measure up next to it.  But that’s all it is… nothing but sketch.

Listen friends.  It’s just not that simple.  The demands are crazy and overwhelming.  It’s not physically possible to make each person in your home happy all of the time, meeting all their needs exactly how they need it at that second.  You aren’t Jesus, okay.  And that’s a good thing.

If your kids are fed, somewhat clothed (eh… depends if your children like to be nudists) and alive, you can slap yourself on the shoulder and call yourself a rockstar.  For freaking real.  Because you are.  Being a parent is no joke and raising people to be functioning adults is not for the faint of heart.  It takes blood, sweat and a whole lot of tears to make it through each phase of childhood.  So cut yourself some slack and trust God to pick up where you feel you lack.  Goodness gracious give yourself some grace!

Have a glass of wine (or two).  Eat right out of that ice cream carton.  Where those yoga pants like a boss.  Because you deserve it.  And deep down I think your kids know it too.

Your best is enough, dear one.

And that’s something this Momma knows.

 

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White Noise

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I left the house frustrated, defensive and most of all annoyed.  Probably all the reasons I had for being upset were, in fact, unreasonable… mainly because of my sleep deprivation and lack of caffeine.  But I was headed out to write and Starbucks would soon fix the latter dilemna.

This was my night.  My writing night.  And I sure as heck didn’t need anything interfering with it.  So I prayed.

“Jesus, help me focus.  I don’t need this extra junk floating around in my head and heart.  It’s just white noise.”

And that was it.  I heard those last two words come out of my mouth and it all made sense.

White noise.

The tuning out process… more specifically, the designated noise purposed to drown out everything else going on around you, good or bad.

We sleep with noise machines in our house.  I’m such a light sleeper I can hear the dog snoring downstairs.  I’ve woken my poor husband up in the dead of night with countless, “Did you hear that?!”  It’s okay though.  He sleep talks, so we are even.  🙂  But we’ve become addicted to the darn things, which in turn has created addicts out of our children.  I can’t sleep without it.  And while they help with our sleep routines, when applied to my emotional state things can get messy.  White noise for my sleep habits = fine.  White noise for my coping heart = not so much.

There’s so much going on in my head all the time.  A symphony of chaos.  Somedays I can focus clearly and pay attention to what Jesus has in store for me at that moment.  But if I’m down or stressed or tired, the odds are definitely not in my favor.  I can guarantee I’m gonna listen to the hum of negativity over objective reality.  My whole perspective shifts and all I can see is crap.  Even if no such crap exists, my brain likes to formulate make-believe crap and then I sit and stew in said crap until all the sudden I look around realize I’ve buried myself sky high in so much negatively-charged waste.

And that’s just what it is… a sad waste.  A waste of time.  A waste of valuable energy.  A waste of life.  The days go by so quickly, and I need to be picky with what I allow my heart to take in, but it’s hard.  I don’t want the mundane things.  I need to hear the important things.  The real things.  The best things.

Can I hear Him telling me it’s all going to be okay?

Can I hear my husband telling me he didn’t mean it that way?

Can I see my child’s needs behind the meltdown?

In a world full of static, tuning in to beauty and truth is a vital art that must be mastered.  It must…  Everything else will pull at your heart, but stand your sacred ground, my friend.  Life’s too precious to be wasted on empty junk.  And really, is it worth it?  Our souls were made to hear what matters most… that we are cherished, important, beautiful.  No matter how loud the unwanted noise, Love will always echo louder than the rest if we let it.

 

So step back.  Breathe deep.  And listen.

Did you hear that?

God’s goodness is calling. Always calling.

The Hardest Part…

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Two weeks ago I let my heart get on a bus and go to Kindergarten for the first time.  He wasn’t sure what to expect and neither were we.  But he walked determined, straight to that bus and got on without even looking back.

Meanwhile, this momma cried.  I cried sad tears because my baby would no longer be with me all day… someone else would be looking out for him.  I cried scared tears because I knew he was extraordinary and he was different than a lot of the other kids getting on buses that morning.  I was scared of the harsh comments and weird stares that may be directed at my boy because he has Autism.  I cried confused tears because what the heck were we thinking?!  Letting him go to school by himself, in a mainstream classroom?  Were we making a mistake?  Was this the right move?  Would he be okay?

I’ve done a lot of firsts in my lifetime.  First tooth, first drive, first dance, first kiss…  But all that is slim to none compared this first.  This was the first time part of my soul was walking around, experiencing new adventures and I wasn’t there to protect him.  I wasn’t there to watch him and let him know it was all going to be okay.  He had to process through his day on his own, or at least until he came home.  It was seriously the longest day ever.

And it was hard.  So hard.

I want him to do this, but living with open hands is no joke.  “Here God, here you go.  Here’s my most precious thing and I’m entrusting Him to you because I can’t be there, but you can.”  Oh dear Lord, it’s freaking hard.

And I have to do this every day?!  Part of me wishes he would stay close to home and close to my heart for forever, but I also know he needs to go.  He needs to see the world through those amazing blue eyes, pure and innocent and full of wonder.  He needs to experience things for himself and learn how to work his way through it all without Mommy or Daddy holding his hand.  Because we won’t always be there and we shouldn’t be.

David is a strong, independent, amazing boy and just because he has Autism it doesn’t mean he will not shine and thrive in this new place in life.  He was born to shine.  He is ready, even if his parents are not.

So please be gentle with my boy, Kindergarten.  You don’t know how lucky you are to have him!  Don’t worry about us, parents.  We can do this.  This letting go thing…  I think.

It’s just hardest.  The real hardest.