Happy Holidays!

Happy Holidays, Everyone!

It’s been so long since I’ve blogged, and I really do miss it. I figured that, at the very least, I could do one of those yearly update letters that we used to get in the mail from friends and family. (Do you remember those letters? They came in that mailbox thing that is now a repository for paper junk items.)

2017 was eventful and challenging for the Bain family. We’ve been without Bryan for five years now, and our family has changed in ways that I could never have anticipated all those years ago. I have so many children at so many different ages and stages that I often feel I’m being swept along by events. In my mind, I am the general leading my troops, but, practically speaking, I’m just herding cats and hoping everyone makes it to the first day of college.

I’m proud of how the “little people” are growing. Most of them don’t qualify as little anymore! A good yearly update letter should include a bit about each child, and since I have more than the average number of children, I’ll beg your indulgence as I write a longer than average letter.

Nathan is a sophomore at Boerne High School. Yes, that happened. He is thinking about graduation and college and driving and all of those adult things. He runs varsity cross country and his team, thanks to a truly excellent coach, made it to State this year. He is, of course, a technology whiz, and one of his personal triumphs this year involved posting a fix for a problem plaguing a popular phone. The post was popular enough to garner donations from grateful nerds. This sort of undertaking consumes his non-homework time. I’m really not sure what he’s doing, but it seems productive.

Megan, a freshman, is a delight in our boy-heavy home. She is strong and beautiful and has a passion for theater and debate. She is definitely mastering the power of words! She transferred her gymnastics skills to cheer this year. Megan is an excellent and conscientious student, but she’s learning to balance perfection and sanity. I’m proud of the woman she's becoming.

Evan is in seventh grade at Boerne Middle School North. He is a bright young man who alternately delights and exasperates his teachers. He has bold views (I think he’ll follow in Megan’s debate footsteps) and he’s developed an intense interest in running. He ran cross country for the first year this year, and he’s committed to improving in the off-season. Evan’s ability to notice what others miss is exhibiting itself in some pretty impressive photography skills. He’s bain.the_insane on Instagram if you’d like to follow him.

Justin is our high-energy sixth grader who makes sure that ESPN is always running in our house. He watches every sport, and after deciding that playing football involves far too much standing around waiting for the play, he’s continuing to pursue his passion for soccer. He’s an excellent student, and he reads quite a bit. I’m not entirely sure that he sleeps.

Carsten is an old soul and could probably pass for 30, but in reality, he’s in fourth grade at Fabra Elementary. He is my right-hand man, and his sense of responsibility and order is a real asset to our home. Like his siblings, he excels in school, and he enjoys Science Club and serving as Student Council Vice President. He is a skilled soccer player, and I think, maybe, another speedy runner in the making.

Stefan is that second grader who is obsessed with Alexander Hamilton and insists on checking out voluminous books from the library and wading through them. He is a proud nerd, and he’s been blessed by an amazing teacher who doesn’t just tolerate his active brain, she encourages and challenges him. He talks like a professor, and, it must be said, his wardrobe is a tribute to absent-minded, fashion-challenged professors everywhere.

Austin started kindergarten this year, and his imagination delights and entertains all of us. He has struggled some with being patient in school- he’s too far ahead of the kinder curriculum- but I’m not getting calls from the principal, so I think he’s saving his complaints for us at home. At home, he’s reading and doing math problems and impressing all of us with his reasoning abilities. He’s an athletic little guy who plays soccer like a small beast.

And Mom. What about Mom? I’m still teaching seventh grade English at Boerne Middle School South. I’m in my kids’ school district, but not in the same school. I think that has some advantages for all of us. I enjoy teaching English, hours of grading notwithstanding. I have to admit that I don’t really have time for much other than teaching and parenting. I run very, very early in the mornings, and I’ve read some good books lately, but that’s pretty much it. This is the season of long days and short years, and I’m doing my best to persevere through the days and not miss the years.

Happy New Year to all of you! Email or text when you get a chance. We’d love to hear from you.

Summer Snapshots, Part 1

Well, it's the official "last weekend of summer."  Of course, school started here two weeks ago, so that seems a bit of a misnomer at the moment, but it's still a great excuse to post a few random notes about our summer adventures.

We kept it low-key, with as much outdoor time as possible.  I struggled with some light-sensitive headaches which sometimes kept us all inside, but we still managed quite a bit of active fun in the sun.

I finished off the last school year by running a 10K with my sister (her first!) and watching lots of soccer.

Aimee and Sara

Carsten and Random Opponent

There were school awards.

Megan and BFF Kinslee

And...we bought a new car!  I was a little nervous about the downsize, but I have not once regretted the decision.  I love being able to park wherever and I am so thrilled to be back in a Honda.

There were chess games over breakfast.

And swimming.  Lots of swimming.  Austin learned to jump off the diving board and he spent many happy hours doing just that.

Austin demonstrating proper goggle wear.  "They need to push down my ears, Mom."

We explored nature.

Boys looking at something very interesting.

 And we went to the beach!

Which child did NOT understand the point of the picture?

The three sand castle building kiddos.

Sunrise walk.  Note absence of teenagers.

Have a great week!  More summer adventure recaps to come.

Just Laugh

Mom's full time job has shaken up the Bain household a little bit.

That is, of course, a dramatic understatement.  It's been crazy.  Any life change will be accompanied by a period of adjustment.  Birth, death, moving, sickness...any major event will usually put our family into survival mode until we learn to resettle.

But in the past, I've always been at home at least part-time to oversee the transition.  I've spent my days figuring out how to "get things back on track," how to "get things under control."  And for the most part, I've managed to get the household running smoothly again pretty quickly.

Now, there's not much control- just lots of broken things and chaos.

Things do, in spite of all that, seem to be moving along and getting into a routine.  We may be adjusting.  Either that, or I've just dramatically lowered my standards.  If you could see the state of my children's bedrooms, you'd assume the latter.

This evening, we watched Cheaper by the Dozen together, and Steve Martin reminded me of something very important: sometimes you need to just laugh.  After all, it's kind of funny.  It would be funnier if I were in the audience instead of one of the main characters, but it's still funny.

When I drive up after 11 hours away and see one of my children chasing down our dog who is in the process of escaping...again, and then, before I can get out of the car, the neighbor boy comes up to me and says, "Mrs. Bain, I'm terribly sorry, but I kicked the soccer ball and it broke the window" - that's funny.

When Austin, after sleeping way too long at the babysitter's, tries to "sneak" downstairs into the pantry at night, thinking no one can see him because he's covered head to toe by his blanket- that's funny.

When Megan suddenly realizes at 9 PM that she is guilty of parental negligence (she has left her home ec "sugar baby" in a cubby at the gym)- that's funny.  (Though not to her- trust me.)

When I go to haul my sleeping four year old out of bed before 6 to get him to the babysitter's, and I find that he has emptied all of his clothes and shoes that were packed for the day out of his backpack, packed it with toys and fallen asleep with it on his back- that's funny.

So I'm trying, in spite of the exhaustion, to just laugh.  One day, this will all be really funny.  I might as well try to enjoy it now.

Kid Filter

“Mom, can we listen to ‘Why Can’t a Woman Be More Like a Man?’”

“Umm, sure,” I replied, as I turned on the My Fair Lady soundtrack. 

Stefan’s request caught me a little off-guard.  I had visions of those words popping out of his mouth at preschool or Sunday school.  I hope all of the adults in his life are current on their classic musical lyrics.

It’s funny how things seem different when you have kids.  You listen to music with different ears and see movies with different eyes.  All parents have had the experience of sitting next to their little ones on the couch watching TV and thinking, “I do NOT remember that part!”  (Home Alone, anyone?  I certainly had forgotten about the girly magazines in that one!  My kids did not rewatch that this Christmas.)

A lot of little things, of course, go over a child’s head.  When I was young, I thought that in Rocky Mountain High, Colorado, the friends around the campfire, “everyone says hi!” and that Leroy Brown was the baddest man in the whole DOWN town.  Maybe it was just me, but I think that’s a pretty common experience.

But then there are the things that they DO notice.  Those small things that I thought for sure would just slip right by them.  And that’s when being a parent makes me grow up, again. 

The bar is raised when you’re parenting.  You’ve got this little human (or a hoard of little humans) watching you, listening to you, and learning from you.  It’s terrifying.

And that’s why as many people who can have kids, should.  The rest should get involved with other people’s kids.  It’s an important part of the human maturation process.  Nothing puts one’s habits and choices in clear focus like having an impressionable child examining every move.  Go ahead, try explaining away some small indiscretion.  Children will have none of it.  And if you do convince them that your compromise was necessary under the circumstances, your conscience, as you look into those trusting eyes, will condemn you.

It’s the kid filter: Parenting cleans up the parent’s life.  It’s not just about raising the kids; it’s about not being a kid yourself.

Daily Portion Part 2- Swinging Extremes

In my quest to trust the Lord’s daily portion, I’ve noticed something in my life: extremes.  We humans like extremes.  We swing from one extreme (“I NEVER eat sugar, ever, ever”) to the other (“All the donuts!!!!”).  People who seek moderation are rare indeed. 

Moderation.  Balance.  Those concepts are so integral to the blessing of the Lord’s daily portion.  I know that.  I seek moderation and balance, and yet I still seem to swing from one extreme to the other.  Some days, I work very hard- too hard.  I do everything.  I don’t stop.  I can keep going like that for weeks at a time.  Months, actually.  Like the Israelites in the wilderness with the manna, I gather and gather and gather.

And then, the crash.  It’s inevitable, of course.  I’m human.  I wear out.  No more gathering.  At all.  The opposite extreme kicks in and I just don’t do anything.

Over the course of time, this swinging is so destructive.  When I’m in “gathering” mode, I’m doing too much to hear the Lord’s voice clearly.  I’m just forging ahead, doing what seems the most urgent.  In “sit in my tent” mode, I’m too tired to do what the Lord wants me to.  Plus, the “manna” I hoarded is stinking (unfulfilled commitments are piling up and remaining undone), but I don’t have the energy to do anything about it.

I’m a single parent.  Exhaustion is inevitable.  (Trust me, married parents, you have NO idea.  All the single parents are saying, “Amen!”)  It’s draining to be everyone’s everything all the time.  I’m going to have to work each day until I’m very tired.

What isn’t inevitable, though, is the crash.  The push-past-the-limit-until-all-strength-gives-out crash.  That’s something I bring on myself.  Poor planning and overscheduling guarantee a crash.  So does failing to recognize when my mind has reached its limit.  (I have found that it’s often my mind that feels overloaded, even if I can still physically keep going.)

Recognizing that it’s my choice how much I “gather” each day is the first step toward finding the right amount.  It’s easy to feel like circumstances beyond my control are directing my days, but I have more say in the matter than I like to admit.  I can set priorities and plan ahead.  (“Today, it’s most important that I…”) I can be realistic in my planning.  (“I won’t schedule any projects right before we leave because it’s very likely that one of the kids will have a crisis on our way out the door.”)  And, I can say no when things get to be too much.  Even my kids have learned that Mom is “done” in the late evening. 

Being “insanely busy” and “stressed”- how many times have those terms come up in conversations you’ve had lately?- does not make me a more committed Christian or a better mom.  Insane and stressed people aren’t really better at anything than rested and focused people.  I like to be busy each day.  I want to get out and gather my daily portion with strength and determination.  But each day, I want to avoid the extreme.  No more pushing past the limit. 

Moderation- it might not become the latest trend, but it certainly does have a sustainable ring to it.

Daily Portion

My ladies’ Sunday school class just finished the Breathe Bible study by Priscilla Shirer.  The study focuses on, to quote the subtitle, “Making Room for Sabbath” and creating “margin” in all areas of life.  The concept is an excellent thing to ponder in our busy, distraction-filled lives.

 

In the interest of honesty, I have to confess that the skeptical side of me wanted to say that the study stretched the “Sabbath principle,” as opposed to actual Sabbath-keeping, to its absolute theological limit.  After all, the Bible has lots to say about the Sabbath, both in the Old and New Testaments- we really don’t have to read very much into it.  But, I took a step back and realized that Breathe, with its emphasis on turning our focus to the Lord, had a lot of wisdom, and I should probably try to quiet my skepticism and be a little more teachable. 

Through the course of the study, the Israelites and manna came up repeatedly, and I had a chance to see the story from a new perspective.  I’ve mentioned before the daily nature of God’s provision.  The story of Elijah and the widow at Zarephath has guided me through many tough spots in my life. 

The prophet came to a widow and asked for bread.  She told him that, due to the extreme drought, she had only enough oil and flour for that one day.  After that, she and her son would starve.  Elijah convinced her to share what she had.  “Do not fear…For thus says the Lord God of Israel: ‘The bin of flour shall not be used up nor shall the jar of oil run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the earth.’”  (1 Kings 17:7-16)  The interesting thing about this story, of course, is that the Lord didn’t send a stockpile of flour and oil.  The widow simply didn’t run out.  Each day, she got up, and what she needed was there.  Daily provision.  Daily trust.

I try to remember that as I go through my life.  Don’t worry.  God’s mercy is new every morning.  He doesn’t give us one big lump to portion out as we have need.  Tomorrow will require a new portion, and so will day after that, and the day after that.

And then there was the manna.  I had always seen that story as another example of that daily provision, and, in fact, it is.  But there is a crucial difference:  The Israelites had a choice.  The widow simply had to get up each day and use what was given to her.  The Israelites had options.  They could have chosen not to go out and gather the manna.  They could (and many did) choose to gather more than their daily allotment and hoard the excess. 

I realized, as I contemplated the story anew, that there are times when I also have a choice.  I can be disobedient and lazy (“Lord, I’m too tired to do that.”) and refuse to gather.  I can run around like crazy, worry about future days, and attempt to store up provision against shortages.  And for me, like the Israelites of old, it never ends well.  “Every man had gathered according to each one’s need…But some of them left part of it until morning, and it bred worms and stank.”  (Exodus 16:18, 20)

So in my life right now, I’m seeking the Lord’s guidance each day: What is His portion?  What does He desire for me to gather?  And I know, as I trust His leading, I’ll see His daily provision.

Tender Mercy

“All the way my Savior leads me;

  What have I to ask beside?

Can I doubt His tender mercy,

  Who through life has been my Guide?

Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,

  Here by faith in Him to dwell!”

The Savior leads with tender mercy.  How often I need that reminder!

I’ve been reading a book by Elisabeth Elliott, God’s Guidance: Finding His Will for Your Life.  In just the first two chapters, I’ve encountered so much to both challenge and encourage me. 

Lately, I’ve felt constantly behind.  Behind on my work.  Behind on my goals.  Behind on making progress toward the future.  I feel like I should be so much farther down the path.  And yet, so often, I’m tired.  I do my best, but the demands of the day often leave me with very little strength to do the extra things that I believe my life requires.

How can I possibly follow God’s path for me when each day rushes past, and I reach the end exhausted, but not discernibly closer to my goal?

When I make decisions, I pray about them.  I know He holds my future in His hands.  I have confidence that the Lord has given me guidance and direction.  But, even still, my progress is glacial.  My strength, it seems, is indeed small.  I want to obey.  I want to forge ahead with alacrity and will.  I want to take the path in leaps and bounds.

My spirit is willing, but my body (and more often, my mind) is weak.  I know what I should do, but I take only the smallest steps each week.  Am I disobeying?  Will my slow progress negate the Lord’s plan?

And then, the words of Elisabeth Elliott helped me hear the Lord’s counsel.  “Following God,” she says, quoting the words of her friend, Eleanor C. Vandevort, “is not like walking a tightrope.”  Mrs. Elliott pointed out, through scripture after scripture, that with God’s leading comes His compassion.

“He who has pity on them will lead them, and by springs of water will guide them.” (Is. 49:10)

“I will lead him and requite him with comfort.” (Is. 57:18)

“My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest.” (Ex. 33:14)

Then I realized that God is more in control than my anxious thoughts allow.  He plans, not just knowing the path, but knowing my weakness.  Must I obey?  Yes.  Do I have to do more than He gives me strength to do?  No.  His timetable is perfect, even when my execution of His will is not.  He’s powerful enough to use my frailty for His purpose, and as long as I keep heading in His direction, He’ll take care of the outcome.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

2014 was quite a whirlwind year for my family.  The most important lesson I learned last year was that I have a limit.  Really, I do.  I ran smack up against that limit early in 2014, and the rest of the year was basically a process of evaluating our life and making sustainable decisions for the future.

So far, so good.  We all seem to be really excited about 2015, and I think that’s largely because we are in a much more settled place.  We’re still extremely busy- I find myself regularly battling our schedule just to carve out time for, well, sleep- but most of what we’re doing is actually possible.  In the past, I’ve fallen prey to believing that anything is possible if I just worked hard enough.  Here’s a beautiful thought to start your new year:

EVERYthing is not possible.

Yes, all you Type-A Positive Thinking People, it’s true.  At some point, especially when you have seven people dependent on you and only you, you find out that there’s an end to possible.  But, there’s hope.  A lot of wonderful things can happen within the realm of possible.  The next year or two will bring more changes for our family, but I’m hoping that my newfound appreciation for limits will make our transitions less disruptive and more peaceful.

We kicked off the new year by trying something new.  My kids had never tried fondue, so I pulled out the skewers and we all had some fun on New Year’s Eve. 

And Austin, for the second year in a row, stayed up till midnight.  I don’t know where that little guy gets so much energy!  He’s the life of the party.

Speaking of new things, I have a new email address: bainsteradventure(at)gmail(dot)com.  Drop me a line. I love to hear from people even though I have an abysmal track record of answering emails (see “extremely busy” above).   

Here's to a blessed 2015!

          

Wonder Woman

Dear Wonder Woman,    

      

I’d heard of you before- you’re sort of an American icon- but I’d never seen your show until last month.  I saw a rerun on Endless Rerun Channel, and there you were, in all your leotarded, spinning glory.  I’m impressed.

I was sort of curious as to what you’ve been up to for the last few decades.  Then, as we neared the end of the school year, I realized that you hadn’t disappeared after all.  No, you’ve cloned yourself and taken on a new superhero persona: Wonder Room-Mom. 

You don’t wear leotards anymore (I totally understand how awkward that would be after a couple of kids) and I haven’t seen you spin, but your powers are clearly on display.  You use your super weapons- Pinterest and Sign Up Genius- to conquer End of Year parties in a single blow and plan teacher appreciation activities that are the envy of all.

You are, Wonder Room-Mom, a dazzling sight to behold.  You help your children build national monument models, dress up in themed costumes, and get to soccer practice all without breaking a sweat.  I am in awe.

But I have a request:  Can you cut the Mortal Moms some slack?  I know, with all of your superhuman strength, that it might be hard to fully comprehend their experience, so let me give you a little peek into the lives of the Mortal Moms who surround you.

We Mortal Moms love our kids too.  A lot.  We feed them, provide for them, keep them clean (most of the time, unless they’re boys), hug them, and discipline them.  We help them with their homework as much as we can.  We try to keep track of their activities too.  We do laundry, we go to work, we clean the house, we tuck the kids in at night.

But we’re not like you.  We don’t have superpowers.  When our kids build a model of Plymouth Colony, the glue drips, the toddler scribbles on the outside, and we realize that we’re out of popsicle sticks.  We appreciate our kids’ teachers- maybe even more than you do since we so heavily depend on them to make up for our mortal deficiencies- but all we can manage is a Starbucks gift card with “Thank You!!!!” written on it.  We hope that the multiple exclamation points will fully convey our deep gratitude.  And we really hope the teacher likes coffee.  We Mortal Moms are so busy with feeding our kids and washing their laundry that not only are we unable to execute Pinterest-worthy crafts and costumes, we’ve forgotten our Pinterest passwords.  We’re constantly behind and every time an email comes in with a friendly reminder of an upcoming project/party/playdate, we are plunged into the depths of despair as we try to figure out how on earth we are supposed to fit in one more emergency run to the store for supplies.

So we salute you, Wonder Room-Mom, and thank you for all you do.  Just remember: We’re Mortal Moms, and we’ll keep doing our best, but we’ll never be you.   

Little Graces

Be nice to single parents.  It's harder than it looks.

You married parents think it looks hard- really hard.  Well, it's harder than that.  Trust me.

Single parenting is like being handed a script for a play.  "Okay," you think, scanning the roles, "This one must be mine.  Looks challenging, but with enough rehearsals I think I can get it down.  So," you say, turning to the director, "When does everyone else get here?"

"Who?"

"You know, the other actors, the ones who play the other roles.  When do we start rehearsing?"

"Oh, this is your play.  Those roles are yours."

"What?  That's impossible!  There are ten roles listed!"

"Now, now," the director reprimands, "Let's not whine."

"I am not whining.  Seriously.  These roles overlap.  There are lines that are spoken at the same time-  characters on opposite sides of the stage.  I am only one person.  This is impossible."

"You'll be fine.  Oh, and one more thing," the director says as he fades away, "This isn't a rehearsal.  It's live.  You're on."

And on you are.  The kids are hungry?  You're on.  Baby's sick?  That's you!  Car registration expired?  You again.  Bills?  That's definitely you.  Emotional meltdowns, broken appliances, lost homework, laundry?  You, you, you, and you.

There is no way to survive this play without grace.  And sometimes it's the little graces that make the biggest difference.  This morning, I got an encouraging word from a friend.  A timely word- a little grace.  A few minutes later, I found myself interrupted halfway through my shower, wrapped in a towel, trying to direct kids to capture our escaped dog.  (Single parents should not have pets.)  Just as I was beginning to think that I had reached my limit (a scary thought at seven in the morning) the dog walked into the house, all of her own accord.  She never does that.  Another little grace.

So it goes.  One little grace at a time.  Never enough to make me feel confident in the ten roles, but always enough to keep me from jumping off the stage.

Rolling With It, Part 2

So…we all have tough days.  Anytime we're living close to the edge (too little time, too little support, too many “moving parts” to our days) we're far more likely to have mini (and sometimes not-so-mini) crises pop up.  Although those things are undeniably difficult and stressful, we can still choose our reaction.  Out of sheer necessity, I've been learning more and more to go with the flow rather than fighting the current.  This is by far not a “lesson completed- check it off the list” situation.  I am fairly certain that I will be learning to roll with the punches for the rest of my life.

I like peace, harmony, and idyllic days as much as the next person.  But I also like lots of lively activity.    Some people cut down on stress by limiting their activities and responsibilities.  There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not for me.  I get bored easily if I’m not busy.  So, busy I stay, and that means that sometimes things get a little crazy.  If the stress I encounter is something that I expected, I usually find that I handle it without much trouble.  It’s all those little unexpected things that get me.

When I walked into the foamy laundry room, for example, there were a couple of responses that I could have had.  I could have looked for someone to blame.  (“That Austin!  He can’t stay out of anything for two minutes!” or “Who left the grocery bag where Austin could get it?!?”)  I could have also berated myself.  (“How stupid was that?  You’re such an idiot and now look at this mess you've got to clean up.”)  I’ll bet most people tend to swing to one extreme or the other.  Some of us blame others, some of us blame ourselves.  The problem with that is that neither reaction fixes the problem.  Both reactions make things worse.  We get angry (either at ourselves or someone else) and sulky and self-pitying.  And those emotions can easily lead to bigger problems.

Instead, it’s important to first establish in my mind that life isn't perfect.  No surprise there, but don’t we sometimes act awfully shocked when things go wrong?  “What?????  An interruption in my day????  Where did that come from????”  Setting reasonable expectations helps my initial response to be less dramatic and far calmer.  “Ah, the first crisis of the day…”

Then, and especially if my split-second reaction is one of shock, I pause.  I take a mental step back and just observe.  “Foam.  Lots of bubbles.  LOTS of bubbles.”  On a good day, the situation might strike me as funny.  A good laugh or even a smile dissipates the stress almost instantly.  But, even if it’s NOT funny, at least I can think about it a little more rationally.

The next step is to avoid the blaming- either of myself or others- and instead take a “note to self” approach.  “Note to self: No soapy towels in the washer.  No hammer on the top of the ladder.”  This reassures me that I've learned a lesson and helps me move on.

It’s time, now, to fix the problem.  The best thing to do is take care of things immediately.  Messes, mistakes and mishaps rarely improve with time.  Sometimes, though, I am simply too tired and overwhelmed to deal with it.  After all, disasters usually strike just before bed at the end of a very long day or just as we’re headed out the door.  And since there’s no one else to step in and share the burden, I have found that I sometimes need to just step away.  Shut the door, cover it up, whatever.  Everything seems better after a good night’s sleep.  If that’s not a possibility and I’m really exhausted, I’ll set the timer for fifteen minutes (or two minutes, or whatever I can handle) and just take care of as much as I can.  Usually, once I start, I find the strength to finish, and even if I don’t, I've taken care of enough of the problem to set it aside temporarily.

Now that the problem’s taken care of, it’s good to take a few minutes to reflect and see if there’s anything I could have done to avoid having to deal with it in the first place.  Some things- like Megan and the Frisbeeor Nathan being sick- I chalk up as unavoidable.  I’m not going to send my kids out in helmets (except on bikes!) and safety goggles or raise them in a bubble.  But other things might have turned out differently if I had taken preventative measures.  I can refer back to my “notes to self” and either plan a better strategy for the future, or I can use it as a learning opportunity with the kids.  “I will NEVER put soap in the washer again.  And, Austin- never mind, you’re a toddler.  Of course you’re going to dump out bottles.  Guys, put the groceries on the counter, not on the floor where he can get them.” 

Once all that’s done (and it usually takes far less time to do all of that than it does to write all of that), I need to let it go.  It’s over.  Done.  On to the next thing.  Think about it:  If you lose your keys, your two year old throws a tantrum, you forget a meeting, yell at the kids, and burn dinner, your day is a complete disaster!  Each event follows you around and by the end of the day you are so burdened with stress that you can’t function.  Instead, deal with each as it comes:  Find your spare keys, hug your two year old, reschedule, apologize, and serve PBandJ.  It really wasn't that bad.  Just some small things, and I'll bet there were a lot of good things in between.  Don’t hold onto those events and carry them around with you.  Let them go.

Finally, the most important step:  Say thank You.  Nothing conquers stress like gratitude.  “Thank You that my washer didn’t break.  Thank You that Megan’s eye will heal.  Thank You for health.  Thank You that all days end eventually.”  Just be thankful.

“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,

Will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4:7

Rolling With It- Part One

Ever have one of those days?  You know, the days where everything just seems determined to go wrong?  In my adventure in single parenting, I've found that it’s pretty easy for those days to reach full-blown crisis days pretty quickly.  There’s no second shift- no back-up- no calling in the reserves.  So I’m learning to roll with it.  No sense in getting stressed out over what I can’t change.

I've been told before that I am good in a crisis.  What’s funny about my life now is how many times I get to practice that art. 

Little ones, of course, think everything is a crisis.  “I can’t fiND MY SHOES!”  “But I WANT a Lego set.”  “Take me outside NOOOOWWWW!”  And, when there is a crisis, like this:

(Totally my own fault.  Austin- maybe it was a little his fault too- dumped an ENTIRE bottle of dish-washing liquid right before bed.  I put towels on it to soak it up and in the morning- I’m going to blame not being fully awake- I thoughtlessly tossed them all in the washer. Bad idea.  At least soap suds are a “clean mess.”)

Anyway, when Mom is diligently (and calmly- at least outwardly) dealing with a laundry room full of foam, kids have no concept of BEING QUIET and just getting out of the way.  Nope.  Their crises are STILL every bit as important as they were before.  “Mom, mom, mom, MOM…”  “I’m sort of in the middle of something right now, sweetie.” 

Then there are the days where things just seem to stack up.  Two days after the soap incident, Nathan had woken up sick.  Plus, it had been raining all day and the boys were climbing the walls.  I was hanging curtains in the living room, and, while dealing with the inevitable kid distractions, I forgot that I had left the hammer on top of the ladder.  (That, by the way, is another bad idea.  Probably worse than the soapy towels in the washer.  You can guess where this is going.)  I moved the ladder and the hammer, obeying the law of gravity, crashed down on my head.  Major headache- thought I was going to black out- nausea and the whole bit. 

Ten minutes later, while my head is still pounding, Megan comes in the house.  She’s been hit in the eye with a Frisbee and her iris is filling with blood.  Lovely.  I missed getting a picture of the initial injury, but it ended up turning brown.  She couldn't see out of the eye, and I spent two hours on the phone trying to get a straight answer on whether or not I needed to bring her in.  (Note to moms: For eye injuries, call the ophthalmologist directly.  The groups will have someone on call.)

In the midst of all of this chaos, Steffen had a meltdown, Austin had one of those just-put-him-in-the-tub issues, and a few squabbles had to be refereed.

The next week, the wheel of my car was threatening to come off, resulting in an emergency trip to the shop with all the kids in tow and a rental car for several days.  And so it goes, one mini-crisis after another.  Like most people, I'd rather just have everything go well all the time.  No temper tantrums, no car trouble, no laundry disasters.  But that's not realistic, so while I can't escape all the bumps in the road, I am learning, a little at a time, to take them in stride.  

I'll share some of what I'm learning later in the week in Rolling With It Part 2.