Confession:  I really stink at figuring out what my toddler is trying to say.

You’d think that after having six children (not to mention working in a daycare before I was married) I’d be really affluent in the little people’s language.  I’m not.

Can we really blame me though?

Let’s face it.  Toddlers don’t enunciate and they completely leave out entire letters of the word altogether.  Ppfftt.

It’s as if my little guy thinks, “The letters r and t are useless.  I rule the world.  I’ll just skip using those.”

So he walks up to me and says a word.  “Seweeal.”

I look at him bewilderingly.  He says it louder, adding the word “Go!”

So now I know I’m supposed to be going somewhere to get something.  Okaaaay.

He is not impressed with my list of twenty things I offer that sound somewhat similar to what he’s saying.

“Cereal?  You want to eat?  Cereal?  This?  Cheese?  Cheerios?  No?  Milk?  Movie?  Uh… Lawn mower?”

He apparently thinks that sticking his fingers in his mouth help with his ability to pronounce his word.  I helpfully remove his fist from his throat.

“Seriously, dude.  You have to enunciate.  You sound like you a gremlin.  A gremlin with a mouthful of marbles.  Ee-NUN-ci-ate.”

Okay, ready to concentrate on each syllable… Now he’s laying on the floor, shrieking the word, as if volume will help aid my comprehension.

“SEWEEEAL!  GO!  NOOoooo!  SeWEEEaaaal!  Goooo!”

Geesh, really?!  Oh, that’s helpful.

If you’re going to go from a sweet, smiling darling to a snarling, kicking monster over one little word, you’re going to have to do better than that, little guy.

*sigh*

He can be such a child sometimes.

We try not to argue, um.. discuss, in front of the kids.

First of all, it’s none of their business.  Secondly, they choose the craziest, most inopportune times to bring it up later.  And lastly? I know how some “sensitive” (manipulative) children can hear their parents passionately debate… um, work through an issue and suddenly think we all hate each other, and one of us will move out and we’ll all split up, and they’ll all be sent to an orphanage where they’ll wear rags and sing Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow!

But we’re also real.  Real people.  With real responses and reactions and feelings and emotions and, yes, real messed up flaws. So, sometimes we do “discuss” in front of the kids.

But here’s how it can be a good thing.  If kids never, ever hear their parents arguing… um, doing the real work of relationship, then they’ll have unreasonable and unnatural expectations of how married people have to work through crappy situations and struggles.  I’ll end up raising a paranoid, easily offended daughter who, when her husband scowls at her, will burst into tears and think, surely, her marriage is just a huge farce.

Or, even WORSE, a mamby-pamby, complete beast of a boy who thinks it’s more manly to leave than to stay put and work things out.

Besides, sometimes it’s just really, really inconvenient to take the time to go aaaallllll the way up to our bedroom, shut the door, turn on the fan for white noise and THEN duke it out.  I just want to say something snarky… um, offer my thoughtful commentary on a pressing issue right then and there.

So.

You might know that we had a week-long family vacay a few weeks ago.  (Or, maybe you don’t know, and that’s perfectly okay, you weird stalker person.)  We made it through 8 entire days of being with each other non-stop without any major eruptions.

Well, there was this one time that we were trying to squeeze our long, big, ugly brown van (no, I refuse to call it tan.  It’s just brown.)  into this ridiculously tiny parking lot.  There were wide, easy to reach parking places in the lot right next door, but they had BIG signs warning to NOT park there or they would puncture your tires and throw your children into the lake. Something like that.  So, I insisted we obey and park in the actual lot we were supposed to park in.  Because I’m a rule-follower.

Baby Daddy, who we all know is a authority-questioning big rebel, chose to humor me.  So there we were, stuck sideways in this tiny lot while some lady in a SUV behind us was bent on blocking us in entirely.  But, instead of admitting that the situation was likely impossible, I just laughed my head off from the passenger’s seat, AND took a picture of Baby Daddy as he tried to maneuver us out of there.  We all know how great it is to be slightly pissed and have someone take a picture of us, right?  I’m so helpful, I know.

But that was hardly an eruption.  I’m getting to that.

It was the very last day, and we were still about 3 hours from home.  Everyone was extremely hot (the long, big, ugly brown van does not have air conditioning, unless you count having the windows all the way down even on the expressways) and also extremely hungry.  We had a cooler full of yummy food, but decided to look for a park to stop and eat at.  I mean, we were on a pretty, two-lane highway that meandered through little towns.  Much better than baking to crisps on a blacktop parking lot, right?

Except that Baby Daddy has this thing where, once he begins driving, just… drives.  I swear he ceases to see anything in particular except for the road ahead of him.

So, we’re driving along and whenever I noticed a suitable place to stop, I’d read the sign aloud and point to it.  We passed one.  Then two.  Then three and four… I squirmed from the sheer exertion that comes when I’m refraining myself from grabbing the steering wheel.

“What are you going to do?”  I demanded.  “Drive all the way home and then say you just never saw a place to stop???!!  We’re starving!!”

He calmly replied, “Just tell me where to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“AaAhH!!!”  I yelled.  (With much grace and class, of course.)  “We’ve already passed four places!!!  You’re not even looking!! OR listening!!!  WILL you just PULL over so we can EAT!!!!”

(I’m sure I was the picture of sweetness.  I’ve perfected the art of shrieking while still looking darling.)  And so he pulled over.

Right there, in the middle of nowhere, he slammed on the brakes and pulled off to the shoulder, gravel and dust flying up in a cloud behind us.

And, while he sat there calmly with a smug expression, I totally lost it.  “AARGH! You can be SUCH a JERK!!”

The kids, who had been bickering loudly the last fifteen miles, were suddenly silent.  I refused to look back, but I could imagine their big, round eyes all looking up at me.  And, even more so, their big ears soaking up every word between us.

Anyways, we ended up finding a nice picnic spot beside a pretty lake where we laid out sand-encrusted beach towels and destroyed what was left of our cooler stash.  All was peaceful and right with the world again.

Then out of nowhere, Angel Imp looked at me with a smile and said, “You called Daddy a jerk.”

Ahem.  What can a mom do but take the opportunity to say, yes, I had said that and it was wrong for me to say and I was sorry.  And, for good measure, I leaned over and smooched Baby Daddy while we both laughed.  The kids looked relieved.

Actually, that’s not true.  They mostly just looked bored with the whole thing.

The end.

Well, kind of.  I cut out the part where I added after my sweet apology, “You really can be a jerk sometimes.”

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again.

I am a member of the Mean Moms Club.

It’s actually quite an honor.  Only a very select few are considered vile enough to join. Most moms simply don’t have the cojones for it.

(Okay, so actually moms don’t even have cojones at all.  Whatev.  This isn’t exactly meant to be a lesson in physiology.)

To be a member of the Mean Moms Club, you have to do things like tell your children they can’t have brownies for breakfast, forcibly remove their favorite shirt at least once a week so you can wash it, and make rules like “No jumping to your death out of the second story window.”

Cruel, I know.

My children actually made me a badge that said MEAN MOM, and the picture underneath was of a lady with fangs and dark eyebrows scribbled into a menacing glare.

Okay, not really.  I made that part up.

Having a mean mom hasn’t seemed to destroy my children.  Sure, they probably lie awake at night thinking up ways I should die, but all in all, it’s helped build their character as they’ve become really cool adjectives like respectful and diligent.

At least, that’s what anything to do with “building your character” is supposed to do.

When I was growing up, “building character” involved something really sucky, like driving a beater car that stalled at every stop light unless you flipped it into neutral and revved it.   So, consider my character to be like a mix of Rambo and Chuck Norris.  On steroids.

Whenever they begin to complain about my meanness a little too much, I just whisper Saved a little baby bunny and they hug and kiss me, and look at me with sparkling adoring eyes.

See, there was this one time, not so very long ago, that Sunshine found this baby bunny in our basement window well.  The kids rescued it and they held it and cuddled it and basically mauled it almost to the point of death.  I mean, it just wouldn’t run away.  After we watched it just nestle in the grass for a couple hours, Baby Daddy mentioned that it might have been in the window well for quite some days, and maybe hadn’t eaten or drank anything that entire time.

Oh.  Yeah.

The kids ran and got fresh lettuce.  The bunny ignored it.  They filled a little jar lid with water.  The bunny ignored it.  They poked it’s nose right into the water.  It didn’t take a drink. It didn’t even struggle as they lovingly drowned it.

No, it didn’t drown. Dang, chill out, you weird animal lovers.  But the kids did begin to make little sad noises as I braced myself for the inevitable dead bunny funeral that was fast approaching.

And then.  THEN.

I took that tiny wittle baby bunny, cradled it in my hands and oh so carefully fed it water with a little medicine dropper.  Well, not so carefully because I was having a hard time getting the dropper past it’s teeth and I had to really jam it in there.  But, lo and behold, I could see it swallow every now and then.

When I finished, I set it gently back on the grass and….

Nothing.

Pppbbllltt, is what I thought.  Just fine with me, since it’d probably grow up to eat all my garden plants anyways.  And with that loving thought fresh in my mind, the wittle baby bunny perked up and began to hop away.  Oh, the rejoicing!

We saw the bunny the next morning hopping along.  Yup, you guessed it… in my garden. But, hey.  The mileage I’ve been getting out of That Time Mom Saved a Baby Bunny has totally been worth it.

Some inspirational videos for the pregnant or breastfeeding mamas out there!

Awesome photo collection of Dads wearing their babies!

A Dad’s perspective of their home birth

Another Dad tells the story of how he navigated the choice between hospital or home birth.

And yet another Dad tells us why, if he had a uterus, he would never give birth in a hospital.

Thought provoking article about first time mothers.. “If I had a dollar for every woman I have heard say “I want a home birth, but the first one is going to be in the hospital, JUST IN CASE” I’d be a midwife with a lot more dollars.”

This is a long read, but so worth it. I remember the first time I learned about how going through all the natural stages of birth actually affected my hormone levels, helped me birth, and even made me a better mother.  Mothering article, The Hormonal Blueprint of Labor.

One mother’s story of why she chooses not to vaccinate

Lies and truth surrounding breastfeeding.

This article finds me nodding in agreement about the tendency moms have to neglect their marriage, but then seething with anger at the man’s completely idiotic conclusion.  It’s an interesting opinion on marriage and breastfeeding.  Ack, what a douchebag he is, though.

Mothering article on preparing your home for a homebirth.

Another Mothering article, about Elimination Communication.

The yuck factor of breastfeeding in the bathroom.

A thoughtful blog post of the safety of home birth.

One in three hospital births are via cesarean section?!

Five questions a pregnant mom should ask her doctor to help avoid a c-section.

It seems guilt is part of being a mother.

Just in the last two weeks, three moms I know have expressed their doubts and struggles as mothers.   I’m not talking about an “oops! I goof up now and then” admission.

I’m talking about a deep, heartfelt ache.  An am-I-ruining-my-kids or a I-don’t-know-what-the-heck-I’m-doing fear.

And, I get it.  Oh, I get it!

Almost every day I question my ability, and then every so often the weight of my responsibility almost crushes me.  I haunt myself with all the ways I’ve screwed up recently.  The consequences of my shortcomings seem to loom in the distance, ever closer, and I admit with great sadness that I am just not cut out for this job of motherhood.

There is always some ‘answer’ that remains just out of my reach.  Some ‘tip’ that I haven’t heard about, or a ’skill’ I have yet to master.  They all seem to mock me, ridiculing my stupid attempts to nurture little souls that do nothing but demand more.

I have changed in so many ways in how I mother my children.  I have grown and matured.  I have in some ways settled into this role more deeply, viewing it with more patience and acceptance.

I have come to terms with some of the mistakes I’ve made in the past.  I realize I was just making decisions with the information I had at the time, and responding with the level of where I was at.  Those experiences help me to understand first-hand why moms do some things the way they do, and to have compassion even while I now do things differently.

And yet, and yet, it’s all too easy to slip into a spirit of fear.  I think we as women tend to automatically view everything as a contest, and motherhood is at the top of the list.  If another mom does things a different way, the condemnation we feel is almost automatic, even when no offense is meant.

What I have come to realize is; I will never have everything figured out.  That doesn’t mean I should cease trying to learn!  What it means is that other moms have a lot to offer, and I can learn from their experiences.

But most of all it means that I don’t have to carry around the crushing burden of never measuring up.

God made me a mother, but He never intended I try to go about it alone.  He never expected me to be perfect in every way.  He never asked me to do more or be more beyond my ability.

He intended to use motherhood to refine me.  To show me what was truly in my heart.  To force me to see it, repent, and let Him take it from me.  To slowly change me from the inside out.

The mothers around me are fellow students and sisters, not competitors.  I am to give and take encouragement, help and counsel.

All while keeping my eyes on HIM.

There’s a frequent mantra I hear among women that makes me cringe.

It’s the whole idea of “putting my children first”.

Oh, that sounds good in theory.  In reality, it’s a tragedy.

It’s often said with a careless, even bitchy, attitude.  As if the mother is expecting the listener will applaud her for doing right by her children.  After all, isn’t it ALL about the children??

There is one time that I would agree with putting your children “before any man” and that is for single moms.  Certainly, moms should take into account the effects dating will have on her children, and take very seriously her role as mother being far more important than her personal needs.  In these cases, putting a man first, especially one who is not committed to her or her family, is a grave mistake.

And, obviously, if a husband is expecting a woman to put his needs and preferences before the health and well-being of their children, that, too, is wrong.

(It’s stupid I even have to recognize the obvious, but I do try to avoid hate mail if at all possible.)

(Actually, that’s not true.  Hate mail is almost as satisfying as love letters, since it means I’m actually saying something worth saying.)

Anyways, with the exceptions out of the way, mothers putting their children before their husbands is marital suicide.

No, you it does not mean you are therefore the bestest, most specialest mother out there, deserving of praise and applause. It doesn’t mean that you value your children more than anything.

No, if you claim to place your children “first”, you are most likely using your children as an excuse.

Oh, I know how real the physical exhaustion and mental fatigue is in the care-taking of children.  I know how easy it is to give them everything you have, and then neglect your husband because you “have nothing left”.

I also know how moms can use that to justify their unwillingness to be an excellent wife.  They not only think it excuses them from loving their husband, they add to the damage by implying their husband is not being the father he should be, since he obviously doesn’t care for their children as much as she does.

It’s crap, ladies.

The best gift you can give your children is a great marriage.  It transforms the home into a place of love and trust.

Mothers who seek to consistently cultivate their marriage have children who know they cannot manipulate mom’s emotions into being crowned the rulers of the home.  They quickly become confident in the respect their parents have for one another, and enjoy the security of having parents who nurture their marriage just as much as they nurture their children.

After going over how I can be lazy in my role as wife and mother, I couldn’t leave ya hangin’ there.   Even though I often need blunt honesty to convict me, I also need a picture of what it means to change.

Just as we went over three ways we could be slothful, I want to turn those around and offer a broad picture of what overcoming laziness may look like.

So let’s do it.

motivated

This is a competent woman.

She is dependable.  If she says she is going to do something, she does it.  She is a woman who takes her commitments seriously, in matters small and large.  She not only notices needs, but then seeks to meet those needs.

Even if she doesn’t know how to do something, she has the willingness to either learn about it or enlist the assistance of someone who does.  She is also quick to ask for help, acknowledging that she cannot do it all.  She is diligent in caring for herself and her own needs so that she can fully attend to people and events around her.

Her friends know that they can depend on her, as she is not the type to fall back on excuses.  They can rely on her to keep her promises.  Her husband knows he can count on her, no matter what their circumstance.  She takes joy in actively doing what she can to help him and loves making him happy.  Her children are secure in their relationship with her, as she is diligent in showing affection, caring for their needs, and training them in a variety of things.  Her home, although far from perfect, is a place all enjoy being in because she lovingly tends to it and regularly maintains it.

Perhaps this woman is the one people think of first when they need something done.   Maybe she’s the type that everyone loves to be around because her energy and deep-seated love of life just pours out of her.  Her husband probably looks forward to spending time with her, since she encourages him and always responds to his affection.  She’s likely imaginative and creative with finding ways to accomplish things, whether it be simple chores at home or coming up with ways to make a gathering run more smoothly.  Even if organization doesn’t come naturally to her, she does what she can to contribute to her and the family’s timeliness, efficiency, and orderliness.

anchored

This woman is steady amidst all that life throws at her.

Although she has her bad days, her life is marked by stability and an unfaltering foundation.  She is reliable even through the rough times, because she has a joy that is not dependent on circumstances.

When she fails, she attempts to learn from it and use the lesson to be better equipped in the future.  When life is going very well, she is wise to delight in it’s blessings without becoming careless or prideful.  She loves to serve those around her, whether it be her husband, family or the larger community.  If she is not noticed or appreciated, she still continues doing what she does, as she does not rely on praise from others.   She is not given to emotional extremes because she seeks to root out selfishness and works hard at self-control.

People are tempted to dismiss her steadiness as being due to an easier life, but this is usually far from the truth.  She has perhaps known just as much (if not more) disappointment, tragedy and pain as anyone. What is different is how she views them.  She is not unique in experience, but in her response to those experiences.

Perhaps she is the friend that you can safely share the truth of your burden with, no matter how ugly.  She’s a woman that people trust, because she chooses what’s right despite what’s easy or fun.

teachable

This woman is thirsty for knowledge.

She desires to learn and grow in many areas, whether it be practical (do-it-yourself projects), physical (nutrition, natural health), spiritual (Bible study), and so on.  She views life as holding countless opportunities and possibilities, and just wishes she had more hours in a day!

She is willing to listen to others, and gain from their knowledge and experiences.  She has come to the understanding that the more she has learned, the more she realizes she just doesn’t know.   She takes every opportunity she can to learn, through reading, internet, and engaging in meaningful conversation.  She is also wise and discerning, taking what she can and using it, and chucking out the rest.

She is honest with herself about her own shortcomings.  She seeks to hold herself accountable to others.  She actively works on her areas of weakness, refusing to fall into the trap of self-justification.

This is a woman that is probably reading three books at one time.

And they aren‘t fiction.

Last Sunday, we heard about the dangers of being slothful.  (You can listen to the message here.)  It’s not a commonly used word these days, but we sure aren’t strangers to all that falls under it’s definition.

Slothful: Disinclined to work or exertion; lazy.

As I’ve mulled over what we learned, there’s been a lot to apply to myself as a wife and mother.  Maybe we often think of laziness as  laying around and doing absolutely nothing.  But there’s a lot more to it.  One can be really “busy” and still be slothful.

After going over my notes and reading the three connotations of slothfulness that were given, I’ve thought of three that illustrate how this is so relevant to a wife and mother.

apathetic

This woman does not take her role seriously.

She goes from day to day without thinking of a larger picture, or considering any long term consequences.  Usually, she just treats her house as just a place to sleep and eat.  If it gets any attention at all, it is really only due to necessity (the mother-in-law is visiting!) instead of a mindful purpose to make it a home. Perhaps her husband is mainly ignored except when she needs something done.  She rarely takes the time to consider his needs or preferences, and usually treats him as just another annoying demand.  Her children are loved, but she prefers them to just go watch a video or play so she can just be left alone.

Planning ahead is not something that she ever considers.  What this could mean is that she never thinks about what is for dinner (and doesn’t care) till everyone is hungry.  What usually ends up happening is that she just grabs fast food, orders takeout or throws some cheap, nutritionally void food on the table because that’s “all she has time for”.   Or maybe the house is always a wreck, since she just goes through the day without following any routine and somehow never has time.  Or she can never get out of the house because it takes so long to get the child(ren) ready, or if she does finally leave she is sure to be late.  Most likely, her children run her ragged because she has never even considered training them in self-control, or perhaps just is unwilling to take the time to do so.  She doesn’t seem to notice how ridiculous she looks chasing after an out-of-control toddler or waiting on an older child hand and foot.

Everything is disorganized, dirty, and chaotic.  Of course, to her, it’s someone else’s fault and not because she failed to plan or lacked ambition.

wounded

This woman loves drama.

She’s always claiming some “emergency”, whether it’s involving her, one of the children, or even a friend.  Perhaps someone is always sick or getting taken to the ER.  Or she’s the one who always has the melodramatic prayer requests.  Facebook statuses are usually about the latest disaster going on, which invariably turn out to be just a bit exaggerated.

Or maybe the drama isn’t even quite that evident on the outside.  Maybe it’s more of the insipid, emotional weakness kind where offenses are easily taken and then let go with great difficulty.  Perhaps she is just always tired, or sick, or had her feelings hurt, to the point where it supposedly causes an inability to carry out what is required of her.

Of course, these ongoing crises mean that she can’t be depended on for much of anything, and certainly cannot have anything expected of her.  She is a victim, after all.

Her husband is likely completely exhausted trying to please her, and sick to death of her long list of grievances.  She cannot see past her hurts to even begin to take into consideration his side of the issue.  Her resentment and bitterness is a constant wall that she forces him to attempt to climb, usually to no avail.  She actually prefers her unhappiness, as it offers a really great excuse to not respond to him.

In her mind, her life is busier, more difficult, with far more problems and complications than anyone else.

ignorant

This woman fails to do what it takes to be armed with knowledge so that she is prepared for what life throws at her.

Ignoring the fact that there things like a world wide web, libraries, and hosts of people to gain insight and information from, she would rather not take the time or put in the effort to learn.  To her, the computer is for virtual games, she doesn’t like reading books, and friends are for complaining to during play dates.

She knows how to justify and excuse every lack that she has, or find someone or something else to blame it on.

Most likely, a large number of things around the home are broken and she would never consider trying to fix it herself.  The children are always being carted to the doctor for something or other because she has no clue how to care for even the simplest problem.  Her children are usually the sort who demand constant attention and probably run the household.  Her children’s behavior excuses the family’s lack of participation in most community and social activities, and she never considers teaching them how to appropriately act in public.  She attempts to function in a perpetual state of confusion and turmoil because she refuses to acquire any new knowledge and then skills to apply that knowledge, or at least make use of the knowledge and skills of those around her.

***

This is kind of a depressing post, so let’s not leave it there.  We’ll be going through what slothfulness is not. I hope you’ll be inspired, as I was, to take any areas of conviction and make some positive changes.

I’ve got some work to do!

How would our culture define a great stay at home mom?

How about this; A great stay at home mom (SAHM) is someone who plays with toy cars and blows bubbles, provides her children with fun and entertaining activities, is willing to cart them to sports and classes, and valiantly kills all germs with her antibacterial spray cleaner.

Really?  Oh, that’s just brilliant.

Now, I absolutely encourage moms (and dads) to play with their children, to allow their children to embrace childhood and all it entails, and to really enjoy their company.

But is that really all we think there is to loving on a child?

I’ve written about our messed up view of children on my other blog, but maybe that’s just a result of our messed up view of what it means to be SAHM.

Would we even consider that a great SAHM would also teach her children how to efficiently run and maintain a home as if it were a place of productivity and creativity?  No, because we don’t view homes in that light.  Aren’t homes just rest areas that help us recoup for our real life that’s “out there”?

And besides, isn’t expecting your children to be active participants in a family and home life, like, child abuse?  Is it right to make your child do something worthwhile in a home setting?  Treat them as if they matter, that they’re capable, that they are valuable to the family and not just a consumer?

Pffft.  Sounds…. crazy.

As a culture, we don’t truly value our homes.  They’re fun to decorate, or fill with junk, or veg out in.  We certainly don’t view our homes as fruitful sites from which flows rich possibilities of innovation, artistry, and enterprise.   Our children quickly pick up on our attitude that all the resources and inspiration exist away from home, and it’s not long before they see homes as a childish need that they grow out of as they mature.

Moms, you are more than a simple-minded playmate to your children.  Your value isn’t limited to how tidy you keep the living room or how many hours you log in playing taxi driver.  Those things are nice, but only the tip of a much larger picture.

Perhaps if we altered our vision of what our homes are capable of, it would change our perspective of the women who spend the majority of their time there.  Greatest of all would be the reshaping of our view of children.

Children would no longer be liabilities, but significant and valuable components to something relevant and meaningful.