Play Harder

Sometimes I forget how much fun it was to be a kid. Despite my efforts, I grew up. OK, maybe I shouldn’t even try to phrase it that way. I COULD NOT WAIT to grow up! As a little girl, I would dream of being a wife and mommy or having a grand career of different sorts. I greatly desired to run my own home and make a difference in the world in whatever way I could manage. I don’t remember being afraid or trying to fight it at all.

HOWEVER, when the growing up actually happened –I got married, moved into my own home, brought children into the world, and started paying mountains of bills while managing to prepare meals, keep on top of laundry and housework, and not destroy the lives I had been entrusted with. And do you know what I realized? Being a grown up is really freaking hard!

I don’t remember student loans crossing my mind when I would play with my dollies. I think I neglected to shop sales and stick to a tight budget when I would go to the imaginary grocery stores. Heck, since I planned to marry a Backstreet Boy I didn’t even need to worry about money anyway! And wouldn’t you know that all of my sweet, dollbaby children slept through the night –every night!?

But let me just say that I greatly prefer my living, breathing babies to the perfectly tame and well-behaved imaginary ones. I think God gave me these rambunctious little blonds to keep me sane amongst the chaos. Ironic, isn’t it? You can’t say God doesn’t have a sense of humor.

You know why they’re keeping me sane in the stress-infested reality of being a grown up? They remind me to play! They show me how to enjoy the simple things. They laugh and smile. They don’t know how to worry or stress. They just know fun!

You know what they’re doing at this exact moment? We’re outside enjoying the weather and they have fistfuls of leaves held high in the air. Their mouths are open wide and they’re yelling at the sky as they run aimlessly back and forth across the yard. It’s a grand sight!

Playing hide and seek with a two and four year old is the funniest thing an adult can possibly do. If you get the chance, do it. They count together, never in any specific order or to any particular number and then they hunt together. Their investigative voices are enough to make me giggle until my cover is blown. When it’s their turn to hide, I am forced to put on a confused face and check multiple places, knowing that they’re in the exact same spot where they found me on the previous turn. If they ever ventured out to find a new hiding spot, it still wouldn’t be hard to find them because my youngest loves to jump out when she hears me coming and yell, “I found him, Mom!” The older one hates it but still gets caught in a fit of laughter when I discover him.

Now, really, doesn’t that sound much better than doing the dishes? Go play!

Parenting Wins

Last week, I wrote about the comparison traps that parents can find themselves stuck in. It’s the surest way to feel depleted in our efforts to be the best mothers and fathers we can be. Well, today, I want to talk about the opposite of our failures in childrearing. We need to celebrate the successes, whatever they may be!

Everyone has those moments where you see your child exemplify exceptional manners, share a toy, or discover a new strategy that makes your life easier in some way. Let’s rejoice in those things! It’s not a time to brag, but I think we need to share these things for our own benefit. What’s the point of doing something awesome if there’s no one to share it with? Here are a few of my “Parenting Wins” from the past few weeks.

-At the library, my son did NOT want to leave. He was a couple of bookshelves away from me and I was trying to keep my cool and not yell because, hey, it’s the library. I made eye contact with him from across the room and held up a “number one” with my finger (intending to do the 1-2-3-you’re in big trouble method of discipline). It only took that one index finger in the air for my son to put down his toy and make his way quietly across the room to come with me. WHOA! I am really hoping someone saw that because I probably looked like the queen of disciplinary success! (I mean, what else would they be thinking?)

-Bedtime is a stressful time around our house. Because of my husband’s crazy pastoral schedule, he’s often gone in the evenings and I have to get the kiddos down by myself. After a full day of stay-at-home-momming, my patience is exhausted and I’m ready for a break. Getting those precious terrors into the bathtub is the easy part. They love bath time. Establishing a steady bedtime routine has helped… IF I can get them to go along with it. You see, they HATE brushing their teeth. I have to chase them all over the house and I just don’t have the energy to do it most nights. My solution: While I have them captive in the bathtub, I brush their teeth! They have nowhere to run and they even think it’s pretty funny to have their dental needs met while soaking in the bubbles. WIN!

-“I really love taking my kids grocery shopping with me!” – said no mom ever. Sometimes, that’s our only option.
One particular day, I had no other choice. I created a battle strategy and actually got my grocery shopping done with little opposition from the temperamental tornadoes I took with me. We started by choosing the “fun cart”. Not every grocery store has them, but some have the little cars for kids to ride in attached to the cart. Great! The excitement of that experience never lasts long, so I hit the produce first. By the time I got our week’s worth of fruits and vegetables, the kids were getting antsy. So our next stop was the deli. Samples are almost always available at the deli. Yeehaw! I got each of them a sliver of ham and a slice of cheese. With a snack in hand, I got them through half of the aisles. There is a candy vending machine near the check out of the store that they often cause a scene over. So I was prepared. I assured them both that if they were well-behaved, they would get to have a quarter to get a candy or gumball of their choosing. This bribe works for another aisle, but just before we get to the dairy section, it wears off so I have to try harder. I remind them of the prize at the end by pgiving them each a quarter to hold. It made them so happy and excited to have tangible evidence of the awaiting bribery that they road nicely until check out. Nailed it!

There you have it. I did three things this week that deserved a victory dance. Yes, I really struggled to come up with three. Some weeks are like that, aren’t they? But if you can tell anything from this blog, it’s that I’m not a perfect parent. I struggle… A LOT! But I’m learning to celebrate the small things and that can make all the difference.

A Case of the Introverts

If you ever wondered what it was like to be an introvert. Let me just give you a taste of how my mind works through average, mundane living.

When dropping off my son at preschool, I play with my daughter and examine artwork on the walls to avoid making eye contact with other preschool parents. It’s not that I wouldn’t love to make a friend or two. After all, I’m new here. It’s just that the idea of introducing myself to a complete stranger makes me want to bang my head into those adorably decorated brick walls.

When the mail arrives, I stand at my front door for a few moments, inspecting the other houses on my street to make sure that none of my neighbors are outside that might want to talk to me when I go out to the mailbox. We have incredibly nice neighbors, but small talk is so hard for me that I end up just standing there, looking like an idiot as my only comments reflect the weather or the colors of the trees.

If my phone rings, I will stare at it until the last possible moment, weighing my options for answering or letting it go to voicemail. I cannot wait until every matter of business takes place over text messaging.

On grocery shopping days, I go early in the morning. There are better deals, fuller shelves, and, of course, considerably less people that might want to strike up a conversation. Luckily, my grocery list provides adequate distraction so that I don’t even get the chance to make eye contact with anyone.

My least favorite part of a church service is the greeting time. The second the pastor commands for us to turn and greet one another, I choke on my anxiety. Will I remember everyone’s names? What if it’s their birthday and I don’t wish them a great day? What if I try to shake someone’s hand and they don’t want to shake mine? What if no one comes up to me and I have to go up to them but they’re already talking to someone else and I look rude for trying to interrupt? What if I have a bugger in my nose and I’m the laughing stock of the congregation? What if I can’t remember where I sat when I leave my pew and accidentally sit in someone else’s seat? How am I supposed to remember who the huggers are versus the handshakers?

Sometimes, when I’m in a group setting and everyone is telling stories, I will want to share mine too. But because I am incapable of speaking up to share when others are already talking, I just pretend that I told my story and everyone loved it.

When I’m in a clothing store, I always keep one eye on the sales clerk and duck behind racks to avoid their constant questioning of, “Do you need help finding anything?” I do not; therefore, I prefer to shop under the radar. Once, I actually left an interview at a clothing store because they wanted me to ask customers if they needed assistance. I refused to be that burden on someone else.

It’s not that I dislike people. It’s that they drain me. After a social event, I just want to sleep because I am so exhausted from making conversation and trying to fit in. I would take a quiet Friday night in my pajamas watching a movie over a night on the town any time. It’s just who I am. So if you come in contact with my people –and there are a lot of us –don’t assume that we’re snobby or unfriendly. Just treat us the way you would if you wanted to pet a stray cat. Approach quietly and gently with a smile on your face. And bribing us with food never hurts either.

Crazy Lady Syndrome

I felt a sense of irony this morning as I sat in church. We have recently begun a new sermon series on creating breathing room in our lives. Basically, God commands us to rest, take time off, and not get so busy with our lives that we forget what’s truly important.

As the pastor began to preach, I realized that subconsciously, I was alternating between rubbing the knots out of the palms of my hands and trying to massage out the tension in my neck and shoulders. Clearly, this message was written specifically for me…as so many of them are!

For starters, I’m a stay-at-home mom. The kids and I aren’t in any activities aside from church, so we really don’t leave the house much. BUT…and that’s a pretty big but…I am a workaholic. I do not possess the ability to relax. You could put me in a completely empty room and I will find something to do –something that I’m absolutely convinced needs to be done right this second.

My problem with my OCD, workaholic-ish-ness, perfectionism, crazy lady syndrome is that I tend to push aside truly important things in order to get to what I feel like can’t wait. When there is a pile of laundry needing folded, I feel physical anxiety seeing it sit there. I can’t explain why, sadly.

I have a new goal, however. Laundry is not important. Dishes aren’t going anywhere. I have toddlers…there will ALWAYS be toys on the floor. But those ornery little toddlers aren’t going to stay small forever. And I don’t want to miss a second of it! I’ll never regret getting down on the floor to play with them. I’ll never be mad at myself for opening my Bible for quiet time. I’ll never lament making the choice of curling up on the couch for some extra cuddle time with my hubby. And I know, at the end of my life, I won’t look back and say, “I’m so glad I had a clean house!”

It is my goal to reprioritize from now on. A challenge I’ll issue to anyone reading this as well. Maybe your time-eater isn’t cleaning like mine is. Maybe you’re caught up in games, television, or something else. But it’s time for change…time to create some breathing room and place value where value belongs.

With any luck, I can at least drop a little bit of the “crazy” that makes up my being.