Good Mothers Don't Feel This Way (and other lies we tell ourselves)
In the span of time it took me to shower this past Sunday morning, my children erected a village of paper plates, red Solo cups, strips of paper, and Elmer's glue on our kitchen table. The village had distinct rooms, walkways, and an elevator system. By the time my hair was dry, my children had scripted a backstory for the small plastic figurines who populated the scene.
It's the same kitchen table that's marred with scratches from years of use, Sharpie marker scribbles from the four year old, and a piece of Scotch tape that's become one with the tabletop and remains affixed no matter how often I scratch at it with my fingernail. This particular day the table also was crusted with Play-Doh and a dried white streak that, when in its more viscous state, had probably been yogurt.
My family ate lunch after church around this very table, our plates and cups precariously close to the edges so we didn't crowd and collapse the village which, according to my children, was ready for expansion.
As I chewed my food with my plate nearly on my lap, I had one thought:
I won't miss this. I really won't miss this -- not a table that looks like this, not the urban sprawl of plastic cups and paper plates, not this mess that spontaneously crops up every single day. (Continue reading here.)
Don't Apologize for the Life You're Living
Before I left for work last Friday morning, my husband casually mentioned that two of our friends, a young couple who had attended our church before graduating and moving to Baltimore, would be arriving that evening and visiting for the weekend.
He thought this was a reminder. I thought, "Wait, we have house guests coming tonight?"
Then there was a slew of other thoughts: how I'd need to move the massive heap of winter clothes that I had piled on our guest bed and haven't had time to sort, how I should change the sheets and set out fresh towels, how I probably should vacuum and make some effort to tame the tangles of Legos and Barbies and balls and stuffed animals and crayons and craft projects and crumbs that had overtaken the kitchen and family room.
Fourteen hours later when our guests arrived with hugs and bags and greetings, the house was in a worse state than it had been in the morning. Our friends didn't seem to notice or care.
I'm ten years into parenting, and I'm still learning that I don't need to apologize for the life that I'm living. (Continue reading here.)
Wishing you the happiest of New Years! I am so grateful to share my words -- and parts of my life -- with you, my dear readers. Thank you for following along. Praying God's richest blessings -- awareness of His presence, peace, and love -- for you and yours.