Parenting is hard. Especially with the changing times and societies ripples of strain. We feel a constant need to reevaluate how we raise our kids. Social media probably doesn’t positively aid this strain.
There is a constant conflict in my heart and soul everyday. I can start my day embracing my blessings and being grateful for the health and abundance around me. More than likely, however, through the day’s obligations I feel like I am drowning in deep vast waters. The overwhelm of holding everything for my little family together is sometimes too much. The mental load is so invasive.
You see I never planned to be a stay at home mom. I never planned for my primary responsibilities to be planning, organizing, transporting, maintaining a home and vehicles, anticipating wants and needs and somehow still being present for friends and family…I never envisioned that and so much more being the sum of my days. Doesn’t mean I am less grateful, but the expectations of how life was supposed to be can’t be shaken. At this point in life I was supposed to have a thriving career, happy kids, a stable loving marriage and enjoy leisurely family activities. I imagined much of what I perceived in my childhood. The luxury of RVing and boating and traveling and having the big home to entertain all of those that I love and enjoy. That was the plan. While the current path isn’t a large disappointment; it’s not what I envisioned. This is the part where I am supposed to say… “But it’s better.” Well that’s not coming. It’s different than what I envisioned. Everyday I am not pursuing my personal dreams I struggle to hang onto me. I struggle to reestablish the new me: the mom, the wife, and the privilege of being a stay-at-home-mom.
The growth as you reach this point in life is tremendous. You stop filtering what you feel, stop caring so heavily about what people think about your choices, and your expectations of your loved ones change. So much of my spirit is healed, but the pressures of my expectations vs. my reality is wildly unexpected.
My circle has changed. Doesn’t matter if it’s them or me at this point. At some points it makes me sad to have a divide between myself and friends that I once considered family. Overall I can see it has brought amazing people into my life. People I admire, people who are wise beyond their years, and people that accept the flawed me and support me when I need to see what matters. My largest shift has been my expectations of others. I have let most of them go….most. This has helped me realize my boundries, the healthy and the not so healthy.
Parenting is like this large mirror. It forces you to see all of the flaws, all of the generational habits, and all of the things you do not want your children to replicate. Then there they go replicating it to remind you what your objective was is going to require work. Internal work, effort, focus, and patience. Well I simply lack patience. I remember thinking my mother had no patience and my father had the patience of a Saint. Well that patience apparently didn’t reflect onto me and I think my husband missed the patience bones too. These days fry our nerves. You see the playful banter on TV and movies makes it appear as though families have this special bond and enjoy their time together. Well my reality is my kids fight, they tattle, they leave messes they are capable of cleaning all over the house, they talk back, the get too much screen time, they procrastinate on homework, they eat junk food, and they rarely are eager to help manage chores I just cannot prioritize in the moment. Social media and the entertainment industry would make some of those things into a drama with a heart warming ending. Well I certainly hope the ending is beautiful. I hope that when I am done fighting to not fail in raising these kids; they leave my house as adults that will contribute Godly things in this world. I sincerely hope that their behavior in school is a reflection of the humans they will be, because at home I get a different version. The boundries are certainly established and reestablished daily, but somehow they compete with each other in such a manner that the progress is lost.
When my husband and I had children we decided we were not going to spank our kids if we could avoid it. We don’t feel making your child fear you and fear of being hit is a healthy environment. Yet we do question whether that choice has punished us in a sense, because we certainly do not have respectful, obedient children at home. They are strong willed, sarcastic, and fiery tempered little humans. They are the mirror of our weaknesses and let me tell you it’s hard to see the wonderful things we have poured into our children. We put an increasing amount of pressure on ourselves to raise amazing humans. I truly hope all of the things that give us grief now make them a force to be wrecked with in this world. I hope the reflection in the mirror is more balanced for them when they someday walk the path of raising a family of their own and create an unwavering foundation in their marriage or relationships.
I hope their reflection shines back the qualities we are grateful for. The qualities and characteristics we can’t fully take responsibility for. Their individual quirks and godly gifts.
My son is silly, has a wild imagination (which manifests as stories he insists are truths), and he can be very gentle with his little sister. He can step up to help when he sees I am drowning. He is so smart (sometimes manipulative because he is so dang smart) and his brain is always processing and questioning information. He is the easiest child at bedtime as he is happy to get his rest. He tries new foods, tells us he likes them and doesn’t eat the rest. Maybe he is sparing my feelings at meal time. He is quicker in the shower than his sister and I don’t have to fight him to brush his teeth. He is a mix of sunshine and tornado. He is either affectionate or having a tantrum. There isn’t a ton of in between. He is not the chill boy people speak of, but he is also so many other good things that I can’t take credit for. This boy strikes my nerves like his father does. Knows just the right buttons to launch me into madness. I will never stop fighting to encourage him to process his frustrations better than myself or his father. I will never stop fighting to mold him into the man God designed within him. It’s so hard to remember how young he is, because this boy is way too smart to be little. I also see a boy who doesn’t love himself. It’s a hard pill to swallow. I hope registering him into different sports until he holds onto an interest in one that makes him feel proud; will help him establish something we have failed to reinforce despite our efforts. This little man and his abundance of energy, his roughness and overly sensitive mood spikes put him in the center of negative attention. No amount of positive reinforcement has ever shaken his middle child attitude. He is so very loved. So very fought for. So very held in prayer. I pray he feels his worth in a healthy way and stops questioning his acceptance and worthiness of love. He is going to be my biggest challenge and I hope all of the strain amounts to an amazing adult. I hope he finds his way into his divine purpose.
My oldest, she made me a mother and I am so blessed for the brief time it was just her and I. However she is my mirror. Oh my sometimes it’s heartbreaking to see her carrying some of my weakness and burden in her tiny little body. She has always been an imaginative, creative little person; often in her own world. Her world of endless possibilities and compassion for all. She is beautiful inside and out and I hope she always remains that way. She is my first to eagerly read her children’s bible…and then another one. She prays, she has many questions about God and Jesus, and her heart is clearly a reflection of that relationship she is establishing with her creator. I am immensely proud of her interest in religion. That foundation is going to be so important in the coming years as adolescents takes hold. She is friendly yet timid. She seems to know her worth and I fear those times when she questions it. I know it’s coming. My oldest is quite dramatic, she tries to be grown and emotionally mature beyond her years. It’s more of an attempt to be who she thinks she is supposed to be, but I know as it evolves her emotional maturity will make her an amazing friend. She is anxious, afraid to make final decisions, nervous, hates to be rushed, takes the longest showers ever, hates all eyes on her, and she thinks making evil faces highlight her natural redheaded sass. She is so much of me. Although I know how amazing she is and how lucky I am; I also beat myself up over all of the flawed pieces of me that she has absorbed. She is going to be my child that always has an unrest stirring in her. My perfectionist who is never fully satisfied. I really hope she grows in a healthier direction with her faith to lean on. I hope she can turn her expectations over to God better than I.
My youngest is still to be determined. She is learning all of the naughty things she sees everyone around her doing and she certainly doesn’t act her age as a result. She is also my angel. She is the person I can hug and be reminded of all I have to be grateful for. In the brief moments in her embrace I see the world as she does and it’s lovely. Her little fairy voice, her bounces when she runs, her expressions that are a mirror of mine on a tiny person, her sass, her compassion, her wonder, her imagination, her understanding of the things going on around her….she is just the best unexpected blessing our family could have ever imagined. My oldest always insisted “when my sister is born” and I would tell her “mommy is done having babies.” Well she knew something I didn’t yet know. She was somehow privy to God’s plan far before I was. When my youngest came into our lives everyone of us changed. My son struggled to find his place and fight for attention. My oldest shined her nurturing light. My husband and I began to walk through a fog of responsilities and struggle for balance like never before. She forced us to grow. She forced me into a huge spiritual shift. Yet we all fell so in love with this little pop of joy and I can’t imagine God’s plan not including her. She is fantastic.
Everyday I start my day being so very grateful for this life that God has allowed me to live. The parents, the grandparents, the sister and her family, and all of my loved ones in between all adding up to me being here today parenting these little people. Somewhere in between the alarm clock and dinner there is strife. The attitudes roar, the tempers fly, the conflict ensues and my children inevitably behave like entitled disrespectful little brats. Tangled into that I question my value and whether I am messing them up more than I am teaching them respect and healthy boundries. I beat myself up with my expectations, every lost aspiration, and every stone I trip over I take personal. It feels like a hopeless failure. I press on until bedtime dreading their next argument and then at least one of them sets me right. My son will give me the most gentle kiss on the cheek and let me smother him with hugs and whisper “I love you mama.” Those are the moments I grab back onto that hope and ride it until the next morning. My youngest will yet again ask “mommy will you sleep with me” and I grudgingly will finally stop buzzing around the house on my quest to complete things to give myself peace of mind. I will lay with her and soak in the softness of her little plump cheeks and the adorableness of her sucking her thumb as I did as a child. I will again revert back to being ever so grateful for these healthy little people and the air they breath and Thank God for trusting me to raise these perfect little people he designed. I pray that I don’t damage the perfection God put before me and that I am contributing to their divine purpose even in my own failures. Eventually I must snap out of this sappy bliss, because my oldest cannot go to sleep without my hugs and giving me a kiss on the cheek. She always has just one more thing on her mind that she wants to discuss with me. I know those days are fleeting and eventually it won’t be me she wants to speak her final thoughts to. None the less by that time I am drained, barely awake and struggling to paste on a loving smile so it’s the last thing she sees from me for the day. My patience is about up and she begs for one more hug, every night.
As parents, regardless of what our days look like, we fight to do better. We fail and make mistakes again and again and again. It’s hard sometimes to see beyond that. If there is one thing that you strive for hold onto this: the ending of the movie 50 First Dates. When Drew has a brain injury that means everyday she wakes up she has forgotten the time between the injury and her present. She recognizes she has a child, a magnificent little person that defies all odds of how her life should be. I imagine not the memory loss but the gratefulness and the new possibilities every morning brings as a parent. That is what I strive for. That is the kind of parent I want to be. I will never stop trying as long as I live.
You know those crazy things in life that seem to just keeping happening to you? Those frustrating patterns that make it seem as though the only luck you have is bad luck? I mean at some point in life we are all there for a season. Maybe a painfully long season or maybe it’s brief. By now most are familiar with the phrase: “it comes in threes.” That phrase sucks. Have you ever taken the opportunity to dig a little deeper and reflect on why these things keep happening in your life? The frustrating barriers, challenges, and disappointments that seem to plague your existence and you can’t make sense of it. I have challenged two thought processes on this myself.
TheHealingMom 