Calling all parents to just say no...

...& 'yes' to judgement-free parenting!

Parenthood is not always easy and it is even more challenging when comparison and confusion whisper doubts regarding all the choices we make. I understand the impact our decisions can have on our children and that a certain level of concern is out of love for our kids!  But it can become immobilizing to live in shame and fear of the future. It keeps us from experiencing the goodness and beauty that also live in this season!

Whenever I wrestle with feelings of 'bad mom' guilt, I am ever so grateful to a God who reminds me of so many things...so many times. He often replaces the lies of failure with truth: "I made you and I made your child. I gave this child to you, and trust me, I would do it all over again." It is this gift He offers to me: to surrender and leave the decisions I make - in life and with my children - to Him!

So sometimes we will live in survival mode and sometimes we will enjoy the kodak moments. Sometimes we will hit bumps in the road and we will fall but I encourage you to not stay there. Let's get back up again and learn and figure this out together. I am ever so grateful to my grace filled community, for the encouragement they give and for the honest and open conversations we've had. Grateful for the freedom to choose and love on our families!

Here's to doing the best we can and asking God to make up the rest.

http://ctworkingmoms.com/campaign-for-judgement-free-motherhood/
Posted by CT Working Moms on Friday, October 30, 2015

Sweetly quiet.

The boys are out with their grandparents, and I am left alone, cuddled on a firm, but soft, dark, leather couch in their home. My hands are in love; tightly holding on to their warm mug of chai tea. Swirls of steam rise and the strands of comfort wrap themselves around my arms, making their way to the tips of my toes.

The sounds of squawking birds grab my attention and I watch as they make every attempt to escape the incoming storm. They fly off. I am left alone again. I close my eyes and sink deeper into the couch, releasing myself from high-functioning expectations, and instead coaxing them to enjoy the moment.  Just let yourself be.

There aren't any obnoxious voices ricocheting off the walls. No pitter patter of teeny-tiny feet. Listen to the lovely absence of relentless chatter. Did you notice the damaging thuds from incessant, acrobatic stunts have ceased?

The silence is sweet. 

Sip. Ahhhhh…

It's just me, my cup and an ignorant ceiling fan left whirling away.

Ordinary Greatness

Sighing, the light air chases the whispy strands of hair that have been dancing around her face. She leans over her little one, one arm restraining him from twisting and turning, the other flying back and forth, wiping and folding, preparing to cover him back up.  His "no, no, no's" finally morph into the screams she is much more familiar with, and he whips his body around.  Those little legs, kicking. Those arms, punching the air.

Exasperated, she leans back, resting on the heels of her feet. Why is this such a battle? Who knew a fresh diaper would cause such strife?  She allows the back of her hand to wipe the front of her brow, and pushes back her falling hair.  Sigh.  She's spent. Exhausted.  It's the end of the day, she realizes. She just wants to give in.

She strains her neck, searching for her other half and gathers up the items covering the floor to hand over.  Enter scene: her eldest son.  The inquisitive three-year old looks quizzically at his tantrum-throwing brother on the floor, and then rests his eyes on her.  He is holding a shiny, new gadget. Looks like a book light. Oh yes, most likely the one she had tucked away, hidden in a drawer, probably from her night stand.

She hears her husband, and returns to relinquish her noble duties.  She has it all nearly bundled together and barely misses the growing light beside her; a brilliant star shining against the black of the night.  The boy, under no obligation but his own, kneels down next to his little brother and offers him a chance at the shiny, metallic prize.  The littlest hands reach it and just as immediately as the chaos began, the calm returns.  Exhale.

Pausing the task at hand, she glances up to soak in his innocent, beautiful face. "Aw Cj, that was so nice. You are one, good, big brother! Thank you."  His dad, kneels down, places his hands on his small shoulders and looks him square in the eye, "You. Are amazing." The toddler looks over at his parents, obviously unaware of his act of altruism until that moment. He starts, "well he just…" His tiny voice fades and he reaches up, his arms extending towards both mom and dad.  Completely overcome by the unexpected reaction from his parents, the sweet little voice returns,

"I love you guys soooo much."

I wanted to capture an everyday moment that occurred earlier this evening… written for this week's writing prompt: Falling at Studio 30+

Pew…Pew, I got you!

Growing up, I wasn't really into 'girlie' things. I had a doll or two, and liked art and reading but I was more into climbing trees, chasing "the bad guys" with my brother or riding my bike down this steep, narrow path in the woods behind our house to show up the neighborhood kids at not falling off.

I usually fell. Okay, I always did.

Now, here I am, a mom of two toddler boys who are constantly jumping, running and chasing (usually me). Especially since Cj is really into superheroes, our days are now filled with capes and mayhem.  Tj just likes all the pew-pewing that goes on.  Honestly, it IS fun, but just for about two minutes.  Then I'm reminded of my once-upon-a-time rough and tumble childhood and am made very much aware that I grew out of that phase a long time ago.  I start looking for an inhaler that I do not own and start dreaming of a quiet hammock with a glass of wine and a good book to read.

To be honest though, I really do enjoy the time with them because there is something relational happening when I get to engage with them during active play. Its sweet, and organic and fun.  But at times I really just want to sit back and watch the two of them go at it. Also through all of this, I realized that I am much more interested in creating a scenario, whereas they are just caught up in the "I got you" part of it.

Oh, and the chasing…and the running…and the beating me down.

Wait, I already told you they like the "Gotcha" part.
Sigh.  Boys.

Well, it's good cardio, I'll tell you that much.

I foresee a super-hero filled summer.

Mother's Day

So in lieu of a mother's day post (and yes it's late) I thought I would repost from a friend of mine (and distant cousin) because she wrote this very beautiful and encouraging piece. Her and her husband are currently co-directors of Miqueas 6:8 (a Honduran non-profit Christian organization that operates a Children’s Home, "Hogar Miqueas" in the village of La Colorada, Honduras). They serve as parents to just under 40 children there, and that is just one among the many hats they wear.  You can follow them on Facebook here and read her amazing blog at Underneath the Mango Tree.

Mother's Day
by Melody Cherian

After coming off the high of Mother’s day (I have 38 kids), I started to think about the day we celebrate mothers.

I am an adoptive mother. To the older children, I am their Tia, to my medium children (who vaguely remember their biological mothers) I am their Tia Mami and to my little ones (16 of them), I am Mami. I am all they know, I am their mother.

In a country like Honduras adoption is not a common thing, in the Indian culture, adoption is not a common thing. People cannot fathom how you can love a child that is not biologically yours and how you can treat them like your own. Some people do not value the parenthood of adoptive parents because the child is not ‘yours’.

Often when I am out with the children, people ask if the child is mine (Honduran people are forward). This is usually how the conversation goes;

stranger: suya (yours)?

me: si

stranger: suya suya (yours, yours)?

me: si

stranger: suya suya, como suya… (yours yours, like yours…)?

me: siiiiii…

Then after a weird look they’ll ask if the child came from my stomach. These days I just say yes, because what my child hears is more important then what a stranger thinks. There will be a time when I tell them the ‘truth’, however telling a stranger they are not mine is not something I think they need to hear at 3 years old.

Not once during Mother’s day did I think that these children are not mine, or that I did not give birth to them. I did however feel blessed to have the love of so many little people and their gratitude. My mother raised me to be a confident woman and in this I couldn’t care less if they came from my body or not or if people value my motherhood or not. I know who I am and I know how deep my love for my children runs.  God has given me an abundance of beautiful children and the task of raising them to know him.

I recently read a blog about a woman who wrote a letter to a Pastor explaining how many women feel uncomfortable in church on Mother’s Day. Not because they were honoring Mothers but because we as a society fail to recognize there are all different types of mothers and for some people, Mother’s Day, is a day of pain. We give these women no worth or value on this day. We do not recognize those who lost babies or children, or those who cannot have babies, those who have difficult children or absent children, we do not give worth to the foster mom or the mom who has had her children taken from her. We do not see the pain of the mom who is barely providing for her children and her sense of guilt and shame.  I feel for these women, maybe because it is these mothers who gave birth to my children.

As I was putting my babies to sleep, I started to think about their biological mothers and my heart started to grieve for them. How sad they must feel that on Mother’s day their children are not with them, or their children are being raised by strangers because they couldn’t, or their children will never recognize them as their mother.  In that moment I thanked God for the biological mothers of my kids. I prayed peace on their hearts and I prayed that they would know that they are valued and appreciated. I am in no position to judge them, to make comments on why they do not have their children, that’s not my place at all. Being a mother is stressful, it’s hard, it takes a lot of energy, it’s emotional.  We’ve all had those close to the edge moments, the moments when we’re hanging on by a thread.  It is by grace and mercy that we survive and persevere, some of us are doing a little better than others, not by our own merit but by grace.

I’m not decreasing the importance of Mother’s day or how we should appreciate those who gave us life. I appreciate and Iove my mom. She is a good mom, she gave me everything I ever needed to live my life and most importantly, taught me how to give life to others.  It is because of the way she raised me, I am able to give myself to 38 children without reserve. I think it’s equally important to recognize on Mother’s day, all the mothers,  especially the ones who are hurting. Let’s not gloat in our successes or our children or our gifts but humbly remember it could easily be us in that place of despair and someone to hold our hand and tell us that we are valued would make this day a little more bearable.

- Melody

Oh so hello again

I haven't written in almost a month. Wow. How does a month fly by so quickly? Each week I get caught up preparing for the weekend and then those few short days go by even faster than I can say 'fiesta'.

.Sigh.

Every time.  You would think I'd grow wise and learn from these experiences. Not so my friend. Not so.

{Hm, but maybe this week…}

The end of April into May was crazie. Best friend's wedding, our son's third birthday, the cesspool backing up, plus a coxsackie episode with a consequent quarantine pretty much sum up just a handful of the various occurances that took place over the last thirty days.

Last night I was able to take a few pictures that capture the essence of many a day here in our home. My Tj managed to get into a tub of aquaphor and I caught him bathing in it. It was all over his hair, his pajamas and his belly.  Oh also, this was immediately after I had given him a bath AND just before we were trying to get into the car to go somewhere.

I'm not sure. He might have digested some of it too.

Any other time I would have muttered 'frustration!' under my breath and quickly shamed myself for leaving him alone for more than a second since I should have known better.  But, for whatever reason, I just couldn't stop laughing.   I mean, it was so funny. I was actually trying to hold in all my giggles in so that he could see that the importance of the situation; this was not a very nice thing to do.  I think he knew anyway.

 'what?'

when i ask him 'what happened?', he just looks away and stares

he just moves his eyes back to me when i ask him to look at me

'what this? oh this is nothing'

'hi momma!'

I proceeded to throw him right back into the shower for a quick second (which actually was NOT quick…who knew aquaphor refuses to be washed out).

Life gets the best of us sometimes. It's nice when I am aware of this reality and can move forward instead of using up my energy to get so frustrated.  It doesn't mean I won't ever feel defeated, it's just nice when I am able to catch myself before I do. I like the peace I feel when I can allow my perspective to shift towards accepting the moment and seeing what I can do to make lemonade out of it instead.

I still look forward to at least a month  a week of sans crazie though. One week. Is that too much to ask?

Hold On

The other night I tucked Cj in for bedtime and he inquired why the lights had to go off too.  Why couldn't he just sleep with the lights on? After providing what I felt was a pretty thorough explanation, he told me very simply that he just didn't like the lights off. I asked him why and he said, 

"...because I can't see."

So simple. 

He didn't say he was scared. I mean, perhaps he was, but those weren't the words he used.  It was because he just can't see in the dark, and well, he didn't like that very much.

Obviously.

I can understand that. I'll admit right along with Colin that I much rather prefer the lights on and the sense of control and security there is with being able to see what's in front of me. 

To see where the shadows come from.

But hold on to what you believe in the light / When the darkness has robbed you of all your sight

So easy to say. So much harder to do. 

These lyrics {from Mumford and Sons} have been ringing inside of my head for the last week and a half and there are a variety of seasons in my life where these words resonate with me in different ways.  Right now I am feeling refreshed and awake and energized.  But when I am tired or so-worn-down-that-my-body-aches-and-I-just-need-to-sit-down-and-not-move or just plain exhausted, I want to remember these moments, these days when I have the strength, when my heart and my mind are not in constant conflict, when there is clarity.  

The same way I reassure Colin that the things in his room are the same things in his room when the lights go off, I want to feel safe and encouraged by the things I know and believe to be true. 

I want to breathe. 

To those of you who are struggling and are having trouble seeing clearly because you are blind in the dark, hold on. Yes there may be days where we cannot see what is in front of us, or the next step we need to take, but press on. Talk about it and share the truest, deepest recesses of your heart in those darkest of moments.  We are not alone. It helps us heal. It helps to trust again. We are moving forward and there is hope. 

The tunnel will end and there will be light once again.

I like hanging out with you

So perhaps the beginning of this week was a bit chaotic, or perhaps I was a bit dramatic.  Maybe both. Honestly, there are days when this is just too much, and I'm watching the clock tick-tock away until I can put them both to bed. The boys don't always listen, the well of ideas does in fact run dry, and help often seems so far away.

I look back and wonder if I should have written it all out on here.

But I do find comfort and connection when I see other moms/ women/ people with not-so-great moments and are not afraid to say so.  I want to demonstrate that my days are not always neatly wrapped and tied with a pretty little bow.  In fact I have gone through plenty-a-season of exhaustion. 

I have emotions. 

The boys are not always nice. Nor am I.

Sometimes, I feel like hiding or running away.

In contrast, today we played and danced.
We sang.
Cj ran to me to give me a tight hug around my neck, then paused for dramatic effect and said,

"I like hanging out with you".

The things that he says and isn't even three yet.

I mean he says things like that all the time {he's such a little love-bug} but for some reason it stole a gasp from me this time. I can't even begin to tell you how that felt, especially after such a week. I squeezed him a little tighter and exhaled with a 'you-are-so-amazing-for-saying-that' kind of sigh. I looked at his most innocent face as he smiled his goofy grin back at me, obviously quite proud of himself for causing such a reaction.  The honesty of a child is what makes moments like these so euphoric.  They mean what they say. Not that adults don't, but when a child says 'I love you' they don't have any hidden connotations or expectations or complexities cloaking it. When they say they love you, they love you. All in.

I looked right back at his big, beautiful, brown eyes and said "I like hanging out with you too."

And I do.

Simple reminders I've been given for why I chose choose to stay with these little guys. Why I am at home. Why I don't run away. Why I get to be taught such profound truths about honesty and simplicity and love through the words of a child. 

I'm glad I didn't miss this one.

some nights are hard.

well here's to transparency.

my children.

i love them, i truly do. but i'm exhausted. i just cannot think straight and for the life of me i have lost the energy to continue. i don't know what i am doing. i am missing things. i am not spending enough time with them and yet at the same time, all i do is them.

i am them. i feel defined by them.

this is why. this is why i feel like such a failure when they don't listen. when they ignore me. when they yell. when they are just plain mean.

it's because of me, isn't it?

yes, yes, kids will be kids. they are both toddlers. they all go through the terrible twos and threes… and yes, i hear you, BUT it is still terribly difficult to ignore the little voice saying how much influence i have in their lives …that in those moments, he is just a little mirror of me.

sometimes it's hard to convey anything to them. i feel there are days that they just don't want anything to do with me. 

he is tired of me. he doesn't listen to me.

it's like he's 15. and yet he is only 2.

me

i don't know who i am. i don't know what definition to take. is it the children? is it a wife? is it someone who cares about something? i remember when i did. i sometimes still think i do but then when i follow that logic, it's down a path i realize i have no time or energy to commit to or to devote towards, so then i recoil and fall into a sorry state wondering who i am again.

who am i?
where do I fit into all of this?

i lack the energy to practice perspective change.

i just want to be honest and say this is hard and i feel lost and tired and alone. 

Making a fool outta me

Travie is starting to act like a real boy. I mean, of course he is a real boy, but up until the past few weeks, he was still just a baby. Now, not only will he interact and babble along with us, he has started to really 'fake' his cries. He begins by scrunching his face - - it's very cute - - and then he'll open one eye wide to see if we are paying attention. If we are, he closes it tight and goes back to his weepy theatrics until he gets his way.

Up until now, he's been the baby.

"Colin! He's just a baby, he just wants to play with you…."

"Colin! We don't hit. We especially don't hurt a baby..."

"Colin! Don't be mean to your brother. He's just a baby…"

But yesterday, my eyes were opened to the misleading path Tj had been taking us all on.  I mean, yes, I was growing suspicious over the last few weeks, but it feels that finally I was given more than a clue.

It was late in the day and in the middle of one of the many dramatic scenes that goes on around here. One of them was "arguing" with the other when the littlest one tried all his antics with me. It was right then and there that I realized he is hoping that I will pull Colin to the side and that he will eventually get off the hook.

He knows exactly what he is doing.

But I'm onto him now. No more making a fool outta me…

or really his poor brother, rather.

You know you're a mom when...

I found this list on another blog and couldn't help but laugh out loud.  These were just so interesting and so true! I posted a few that resonated with me.

You Know You’re a Parent When…

1. You can’t remember the last time you were able to go in the bathroom, close the door and not be interrupted.

2. You know the book “Brown bear Brown bear, What do you see?” – by heart.

3. It takes you two days to shave your legs: one leg one day and the other leg the next day.

4. You have never been so frustrated and so in love with anyone in your life.

5. You really know you're a mom when you stop caring if people think your house is nice and you just wish they'd think your kids were nice.



6. Pregnancy and birth stories are so interesting.

7. The last time you saw a movie that was above a G rating was…well…you can’t really remember.

8. You have trouble concealing your knowing smirk as you listen to a first time mom-to-be talking about how things are going to be once her baby arrives.

9. You hear a crash in the next room and you not only know exactly what was the source of the crash, but who created it.

10.You know you are a mom when you start looking at diaper bags the same as you did those awesome leather purses currently hanging in your closet.

11 You know you're a mom if you can take a shower, do hair and makeup in less than 10 minutes all with an audience.

12. You are at dinner, spill something on your shirt and you reach into your bag and pull out baby wipes to clean up.

13. You know you're a mom when baby wipes are more valuable than money at any given time of day in any given location.

14. You know you are a mom if your “me time” usually consists of daddy watching the baby for 30 minutes while you clean up the kitchen.   


15. You know your a mom if all the tasks you do are vocalized in a sing song way!

What about you other moms out there…do you have any to add?

...and we are back!

So we were at a wedding in florida and just really had a great, relaxing time {best part: my tan!} It was such a nice time to enjoy each other, our friends & family while celebrating together with them.  Of course, we always say we could use a vacation from the vacation {you know, gotta unwind from the travel, etc} and this time Jus actually took a few days off afterwards, so it was nice to just not have to rush back to the routine of things as soon as we got back. But I gotta tell ya, it has been a hectic week all the same! I think I was envisioning relaxing days on the deck, quiet walks in the evening with the boys, maybe a beach visit or two... and yes, perhaps one or two of those things happened but it was still midst a crazie amount of craziness.

First, let me just say, God bless grandparents because without them, we wouldn't have been able to go to florida sans les enfants. But I could truly swear that those two boys were not given to them as spoiled as they were when I received them back. ::Sigh:: Well, what do you expect. Grandparents aren't supposed to have to think or worry about discipline!

And such is the result. 

Last week was really a week spent in the two of us trying to reign the two of them in {somehow, we felt outnumbered still}. But I think because routine is really important in such a process {and Jus' presence throughout the day really isn't part of said routine} that project really didn't get off the ground until today.  I was starting to get pretty nervous, I'll admit. I began  envisioning all my future days full of just spoiled little boys running me haggard. 

But today turned out to be a good day, all in all. I missed having Jus around, but honestly it was so nice to just get the little guys back on their schedule. And really, it's less about 'a schedule', per se. It's about their attitude and their behavior and I think that all just stems from a sense of security, which is often found in their routine.

..and Jus and I... well we aren't really routine people..

"Hey wanna come over today to bbq for the fourth of july? We don't have any food, but bring your friends!"

"Hey, wanna go to the beach at 5 even though I usually start the kids evening dinner/bath/nighttime schedule within the next hour?"

"Hey wanna go for a drive and then end up at the beach without any beach stuff and then drive back in our soaked every day clothes?"

It's unfortunate, I know. But we love it.

So even though it's the summer, and there will shall be plenty-a-more days, weeks and weekends  filled with illuminating new wonders and marvels, at this moment, just getting the two of our innocent, loving faces to sleep instead of hearing "no stop it, mommy, stop it" and "shhh mommy" is wonderful and marvelous in and of itself.

The Twos

The inevitable has happened. Colin has hit the terrible twos.

Okay, so he has always had his moments {obviously} but more of them seemed to be sweet than terrible, or at least that's how I've seen them to be. Now, all of a sudden {and I mean over the last two days} he has started to look me square in the eye, lean back and very purposefully say "No." ...or scream or yell or hit or kick or somehow show me that he is in charge of his own destiny.

He has even started to tell me "stop it" when I give him an unexpected kiss or hug.

What has happened to my sweet little charmer, who would run over and give me tight hugs with an enormous amount of kisses and belly laughs.

The innocence is wearing away.

I thought I had 15 years or so before that happened.

Well, now I have no idea how to handle this because I thought I had finally gotten a handle on the lil' monster moments. Time outs, serious conversations and the firm tone have all seemed to lose their value, or at least they do not seem to be working like they once did. So I am fresh out of ideas.

Its days like these where I wish I had more perspective on parenting. Everything within me just wants to yell back or throw my own tantrum, but most of the time I just look completely calm on the outside {which probably infuriates him all the more}. But, I have been learning more about how establishing trust between you and your kids majorly affects their attitudes and their behaviors, and I mean, yay, that's great and all. So, I've got it all in theory. It's the struggle of making that become a reality that I haven't seemed to get a handle of  It's hard to step back to see the big picture when you are dealing with the crazie details.

It's just hard to grasp that clarity in the midst of the moment.

So I write. Writing is like praying with a pen, or something, for me. Its about the process and I don't always get all the answers, but I do get peace and perspective. I firmly believe He gives me fresher perspective when I write.

So, new challenge: build trust. Hmm, we'll see. Now I just have to figure out how to do that more than I do now...