When We Miss the Marvelously Mundane

   
Just a few mornings ago my two year old grabbed my hand and begged me, implored me, nudged me and eventually tugged me away from the kitchen where I was wrapped up in the usual morning grind with unrelenting perseverance to finish the tasks at hand (just one clean spot in the house, just one!) .

"Come on, Mom! Come upstairs with me. I want to show you something!" she said, looking up at me, as her small hand grabbed first at my leg, pulling me away from the sink, and then reached up for my hand.

I held my ground for a minute. I kept my foot firmly planted in front of the sink and almost muttered those words that all mommas utter more than they mean too..."Not right now honey...I have to finish this first."

Oh, but one look at that face. That face! She gets me every time. The dancing blue eyes, the cheeks, the persuasive smile, the way she so eloquently expresses herself at 2 1/2...She was being incredibly persistent, not backing down. Momma, you're going to pay attention to me now! every part of her seemed to be saying.

"Momma, I have something to show you!" is what she said instead...a game we often play.

Sometimes the "something" means she cleaned her room (well, kind of). Sometimes she has lined up her stuffed animals. Sometimes she has pulled every last thing out of her bed, or every book off of the bookshelf and has thrown them into a haphazard pile on the floor. Those are always the funniest "surprises".

"Wow, honey...um...wow. That's...a...That a great great pile you've made there!" I'll stammer as she beams proudly and I conjure up how we'll gracefully clean this mess up at some point later today...maybe.

On this particular morning, the "something"  was a carefully constructed pyramid she had crafted out of a set of Melissa and Doug puzzle blocks. The blocks were carefully stacked, six at the bottom, then five, four, three, two, all the way to the one at the top. She and I had made block towers before, but she had never done it by herself. It was quite impressive, actually.

I was delighted to have seen it, and simultaneously reminded myself that I had almost missed it. 

I almost said no.  I almost told her that I needed to finish the dishes first. By that time she would have been onto other things, or would have knocked it down, or would have forgotten about the thing all together.

While a block tower is not monumental by any means, it was significant in her day, and it was a moment she wanted to share with me. A moment away from the grind. A moment to focus on her playfulness, her creativity...a moment that said, without a spoken word, that she IS absolutely more important than the dishes. 

As she led me up the stairs, holding tightly to my hand, I found this question rattling around in my mind...How often does God, in the same way beckon me away from the grind. How often does he say, "My love, I have something to show you, come this way."

How often do I actually miss what he wants to show me because I plant my foot on the floor just a little bit harder and play the mommy martyr card? "But these dishes, and this laundry, and these floors, and the grocery lists, and the lack of sleep, and the dust, and the very dirty mudroom...God, did you see the water marks on the hardwood floors in that mudroom... from the gritty, grimy snow boots that have been in and out ceaselessly this week? I must not stop!"

Sometimes He is extra gracious with me, and persistent. He tugs at my leg and then takes my hand and pulls me away, and I am always, always, thankful for it.

But sometimes, I wonder if I've missed it. 

Missed the chance to take in the snowcapped trees, and their massively reaching arms that seem to be reaching out to the sky in praise. Or, the chance to have a meaningful conversation with a mom I kind of knew, but hid from, in an aisle at Target. Maybe I missed the chance to hear one of my children sing, or dance spontaneously because I was tirelessly pursuing productivity. Maybe I (gulp) squelched someone's desire to sing when I pushed us all too quickly to move onto the next thing, rather than just...staying...in...the...moment...just...a...little...bit...longer.

I know I write (and talk!) a lot about this very topic. Sometimes I'm tired of hearing myself say the same things over and over again...the broken record spinning in my head. I hope I don't sound entirely like a broken record to you. If I do, forgive me.

Maybe, just maybe, one of these days I'll get it. I'll be that lady who can write about how she  takes in every magnificent moment of the day, from the sun slowly peaking up over the horizon in the morning, to the gloriously beautiful sight of those sleeping faces, innocent and sweet, that I pray over before I go to bed at night.

Someday I'll arrive at the zen, the focus, the true practice of the presence of God as much in the middle of the overtly glorious as in the microscopically minute and mundane moments of the day. 

Someday.

But, until then I'm a total piece of work. A piece of work in progress, which is, ultimately and hopefully, a good thing.

I'm a slowly sanctifying, fitfully faithful, blissfully blundering, hot mess of a momma on many days who is trying my best to manage this thing called life and motherhood as gracefully as humanly possible.

And, I suppose if I had it all figured out, I wouldn't have much to write about...and that wouldn't be any fun after all (;

When Momma Blows Her Lid!

Oh friends. You should have seen me last Saturday afternoon.

No. Actually, I'm really glad you didn't see me last Saturday afternoon.

I lost it.

Blubbering, crying, slamming doors lost it.

If you're thinking, Oh my goodness, she doesn't look like that type. The blubbering, lost it, slamming doors type! You'd be right...most of the time.  I credit my faith, God's grace, and a somewhat consistent prayer life for helping me to hold it together most days.  I'm relatively patient with my kids. I don't do a lot of yelling because I am starkly aware that I DO NOT want my girls to remember me that way. And I rarely, if ever, slam a door in the house.

But, life got the best of me on Saturday. Actually, the house, the cleaning, the STUFF!, got the best of me.

I had spent the entire morning cleaning the house-- picking up toys, putting laundry away, cleaning the kitchen, and sorting through CD's, DVD's and books in the living room. The CD/DVD project took longer than I expected, and Aubrey (as 2 year olds are prone to do) started to dump other stuff (her toys, puzzles, games) all over the back of the living room. At this point I was still holding it together though. Ok, ok. I've been preoccupied, this is not her fault. She's just playing and doing what two year olds do. Lots and lots and LOTS of what two year olds do.

I continued my organizing project, eventually sent the girls up to clean their rooms, which they did half-heartedly in about 10 minutes time, we ate lunch and the girls settled on the couch to play a Wii game.

It was getting late in the afternoon and I knew that I still had errands to run--for Birthday parties, Valentines stuff, grocery items-- more to do than I realized I had time for.  The tension was starting to mount. I was still purging and organizing the back of the living room and our window seat, whose internal contents had become a haphazard dumping ground for puzzles, games and toys, and was feeling increasingly frustrated.

It was about this time that I started to think about how little time I have to do more pleasurable things (anything aside from cooking, cleaning and managing stuff!), and how much time I spend managing other people's schedules and stuff.  In my frustration this is what went down...

"Ava, Ella!" I shouted, as I pulled dozens of games and puzzles out of the window seat and started throwing them into a pile on the living room floor. "I need help!"

They completely ignored me and continued to play Mario Brothers.

"Girls! This is NOT MY STUFF! I spend all of my life sorting it and I'd like some help!"

"Mom," Ava said, somewhat sarcastically, "It doesn't ALL need to be done on Saturday!"

And that's when I blew my lid.

"Turn that video game off now and get back here and help me!"

They did't turn it off fast enough. I marched over, hit the power button on the television, sent Ava up to her bedroom and then proceeded to pull the rest of the games out of the window seat, throwing them on the floor, one at a time while my six year old watched with her eyebrows raised.

Oh my goodness, I'm damaging my six year old for life, I thought as I continued to angrily throw puzzles.

I finally sent her upstairs, more calmly, because she at least asked if she could help. I realized I needed time to cool off without bystanders.

But before my cooling off would commence I marched my angry self up the stairs behind her, told Ava to never, EVER talk to me like that again and then slammed her door shut.

I went back down to the mess of games and puzzles, sat on the window seat, and cried a few crazy mom tears before Scott found me and tried to talk me off the ledge. He reassured me that,  a) I wasn't crazy, b) we don't have a ton of time for ourselves, c) this parenting gig IS harder than we ever imagined it would be, and d) that he supported my efforts to purge and to ask for help in the process.

Thanks, babe!

Scott invited the girls back downstairs where they apologized for not helping and for their snippy tone about the house cleaning. I wasn't ready to apologize for my door slamming (that would come later), and simply accepted their apologies and offers for help.

Sadly, my tone sent Scott on a grumpy, downward spiral for the rest of the day. Just about the time that I started to regain my composure, patience and stamina, he was throwing paint brushes around the kitchen and barking about his own (understandable) frustration.

The day felt like an epic family fail.

This was not how we  envisioned our lives as parents, or how we thought our family Saturdays would go down.

The reality is that sometimes we just have bad days. Sometimes the pressure cooker of parenthood pushes you to your limits. Sometimes you collectively throw puzzles and paintbrushes all on the same day.

Sigh.

 But, God...God is good. He redeems the mess...the figurative and the literal and can turn it into good.  

We pulled the pieces together that night; apologized to the girls, apologized to each other and made promises for a new, good and better start the next day.

The next morning, while the girls were still sleeping and I was fixing my morning coffee, I happened to glance up and read this verse that has been taped to the side of our kitchen cabinet for months.

It was a convicting reminder. I laughed at the irony that I had boldly tapped it to the side of the counter during a time when the girls bickering with one another was getting out of control and I was tired of being a constant referee.

Perhaps God knew it was I that would actually need the reminder several months later...

I called my husband, who was on his way to church to play on the worship team that morning..."Babe, I just read this verse! The last line...it got me. Remember last night how we said we felt like we were not living the lives we wanted to live...we weren't!"

When the girls got up that morning I read the verse to them and apologized, again, for my angry behavior the day before. I explained that it's ok for mom to ask for help, and that they need to be respectful in their responses, but that my choice to slam Ava's door in anger is never, EVER what we do when we're mad.

"Girls, was that a good choice or a bad choice...the slamming of the door?" I asked,  somewhat sarcastically and in my best teacher voice.

They smiled. "Bad choice, mom."

We had a much better day on Sunday (:

I realized I had been slow to listen and quick to speak during my Saturday purge. The reality is that a family of five does need to work together, and Ava, of course, should help when I ask (and not be sarcastic!), but there was a bigger picture lesson going on here.

In the midst of the mess, and the busyness, and the striving to get it all done, I let my focus on a clean house take me away from my focus on a clean heart...one that accepts that "full" and "messy" are part of this season we are in, and gracefully works through the details of decluttering and cleaning one day at a time,  often at a pace much slower and more laborious than I would like!

The reality is, and I can hardly believe I'm saying this, that Ava was probably right...It did't all need to be done on Saturday.

We did finish our living room purge and I got most of my errands done. And, better than all of that, God was doing a deeper work in my heart that day...I vowed to never, ever slam a door again (I'm hoping I can hold true to that one!), and to listen more and say less.

So, we venture on. One messy, grace filled day at a time. Digging deeper into what really needs to be purged (the living room or our hearts!), and are thankful for grace in the process.

Word of the Year: Love Well

Hi Friends,

I promised that I'd let you know what my "word of the year" was and why I chose it, so here it is!

Before I begin,  some of you have no idea what I'm talking about, this "word of the year" stuff. In summary,  in lieu of or addition to your more traditional resolutions, some folks like to pick a word (or two!) that serves as an overarching theme for the year.

Intentional, focused, grace, happy, strong, balance, and commitment are all great examples. Something motivational. Overarching. Something that  has meaning for you, not just defining one small area of your life, but the bigger whole.

In fact, there is an entire blog devoted to this idea called "My One Word" (I just found it this morning) where the writer explains this growing movement and offers a huge list of words and quotes to help you choose your own.

Like some of you, I can find myself discouraged by the many New Years resolutions that I set, and my seeming inability to follow through.  Because of this the simplicity of choosing just one word to  focus on really appealed to me.

That's not to say I didn't also jot down other resolutions.

Ahem..."Organize my house."

Yup. That one. In 2011. 2012. 2013. 2014. 2015...2016.

I must be a sucker for punishment.

(I will say, I have made slow and steady progress. The reality is that organizing a home with five people, 3 of whom are just learning what "pick up" even means, can feel like a herculean effort.
The other reality is that some people are just naturally gifted in this area. And maybe don't feel so ADD-ish in their attempts to organize...I wish I were one of those people.

My sister, Katie. My friend, Carla. Other friends too...Sarah E., Dana H., Danielle.  You ladies know who you are. Can I come over for some housekeeping lessons, please?!

I always joke with Scott that those friend's houses (the gifted organizational types) always feel like "big people houses" when I visit them. Ours feels more like a dorm room most of the time. The whole house...one big messy dorm!

We like to use the phrases zoo, barn, and circus to describe it on other days.

But, I digress....)

So, I did set some goals for the year. Lots of them actually. If I get around to it I'll summarize and share some of those with you next week, but I also picked my word/theme for the year. The two words I will hinge my heart on when all of my other resolutions are going to...ahem...Honolulu in a hand basket.

My theme for 2016 is...Love Well.

Love, on it's own, sounded too...simple. Mushy, maybe? Certainly too vague.

Love well, on the other hand.

It seemed to capture everything I really want my life to be about. Even on the days when I feel like I'm failing miserably.

I want to love my children well and this means being intentional. It means listening. It means putting aside my agenda and playing with them more often than I naturally do. It means notes in lunch boxes, snuggles on the couch, words of affirmation telling them how great they are. It also means discipline...sometimes. And tough conversations at other times. It means teaching them how to be responsible and develop discipline and self-motivation in their own lives. It means being actively engaged and continuing to do these things even when I'm dog tired.

I want to love my husband well. This means a lot of things that don't always happen in the midst of our hectic days either. Telling him I'm thankful for him, that I love him, and that I'm super glad we get to do this thing called life together. Maybe an unexpected gift. Maybe a note. Maybe asking him what he'd like to do on some random day and gifting him the time to just go and do it...no questions asked or time limits given. Little things mean a lot when it comes to your relationship with your husband...I want to remember that, and more importantly I want to follow through.

Love well...my extended family, neighbors, friends, church acquaintances...the ones I know well, and the ones I could take the time to get to know better.

The reality is that "loving well" usually means slowing down. It means making relationships a priority over task lists.

I feel like I used to love well...before I had kids. At that point, especially after we had our third little one, I got so bogged down by the seeming non-ending to-do list that I stopped being intentional about things outside of our immediate family life.  At some point, as parents, we often find ourselves so consumed with loving our families well (or last least meeting their needs) and figuring out how to balance "it all" that those outside our immediate family circle are forced to take a back seat. And, to some degree, that is ok,  even normal- for a while. But eventually, you must re-connect, re-engage, start looking outside of your immediate circle a  little bit at a time.

I want to recast my vision. I'm ready to re-engage in the wider world and try to spread a little bit of love in more places than just my home. I want to be an example of loving others well, so that my children see what that means. I want us to love others well as a family as often as possible and when the opportunity arises.

 "Above all," Peter says, "love each other deeply because love covers a multitude of sins."  
(1 Peter 4:8).

The mommy version might say, "love each other deeply because love covers your cranky days, impatient moments, mishaps with words, ignoring your neighbor, being angry at the DMV lady, and all other foibles as a mom."

Not that we should ever use love as an excuse, ("I can be cranky now and love them later!"), but I'm quite thankful that my love for my children is hopefully making a bigger impact that my mistakes, because, well...big confession here--I am human. I do get tired and impatient and cranky. I'm a female...ahem...with occasional (errr, monthly) PMS.

Thank heaven (literally!) that love is bigger than all of that!

So go forth and love well.

Pick a word for the year, or share the one you've already decided on.

Set some New Years resolutions, but hold them loosely with arms open wide if you are parenting little children whose needs and demands often usurp our best intentions when it comes to goals and resolutions.

And choose to be ok with it all.

P.S. My super creative and talented friend Traci, who also recently re-designed my blog, created my  word logo for the year. If you have a blog and want a word button, she can create one for you too! Visit her at www.tracimichele.com.  More specifically, her post about creating word buttons can be found here.

Happy 2016: A Year of Adventure (Isn't Life Always an Adventure with Kids?!)

Happy New Year Friends!

I hope that you all had a wonderful Christmas, some good vacation time, and a great New Years celebration.

We had our share of colds, coughs and even a bout of strep throat (the hubby, 2 days before Christmas!), but we've all come out the other end and are excited for the possibilities that a new year holds.

We took the kids out for the first time this New Year's Eve, which was fun. In some ways it felt like it marked the beginning of a new era.  We've bid adieu to the adult only parties (for a while anyway), and have exchanged them for confetti poppers, plastic necklaces, sparkling cider and Doritos. We gave our oldest daughter the green light to stay up until the ball drop, which she has been itching to do for years and made plans to drive into the city for dinner and some First Night stuff and then head back home for snacks and t.v.

Our Dinosaur BBQ dinner fit the bill with the kids-- Aubrey managed to spill her lemonade all over the floor, then a glass of water twenty minutes later.   I sopped up both spills with a copious number of napkins which accrued in a heaping pile at the foot of our table, while apologizing to the wait staff for the mess.

I laughed at the nuttiness of it all, and about how we have become "those" people with the kids at the table in restaurants (which is why we don't go out to eat out very often these days).  I mean, if I were a waitress I'd run if I saw us. Fortunately, our waitress was six months pregnant with her first child and seemed amused by the whole thing.

Is this what I have coming? she asked.

Uh-huh.

 After that we headed over to the convention center where we were entertained by Jeff Musial, the animal guy, and then endured a rather odd routine by a self-proclaimed contortionist and comedian who must have gathered inspiration from Napoleon Dynamite. The guy plunged himself through a toilet seat, made bad, racist jokes and while some of it was funny, many moments left Scott and I cringing and wondering how we ended up there. Aubrey rode one carnival ride, the girls ran through a "Ninja Warrior" obstacle course, and we all left relatively entertained.

By all accounts it was a successful New Year's celebration. I went to bed at 12:01 with Ava proclaiming to 'not be tired'. I told her she could stay up for a few more minutes if she wanted to help dad clean up the kitchen, which she readily agreed too (nice move, right?!). Ella, unfortunately had a terrible cough, and while we had originally told her she could stay up, we pleaded with her to go to bed at 11 so she could get some rest.

Aubrey at Dinosaur BBQ

We rolled in the New Year with homemade crowns from Dollar General!

Welcome to the midnight club! 

Yes, I let this go off in my living room...while we re-watched the ball drop with Ella on New Years morning! 

(For some reason my captions aren't showing up. So, this was, from top to bottom, Aubrey at Dinosaur BBQ, Ava in our homemade Dollar General 2016 crowns (lol!), Ava- the newest member of the midnight club, and the hilarious mess after I allowed a confetti popper in my living room on New Years Day!)

I haven't had the time to contemplate 2015 the way I would like to...you know, with a hot cup of coffee and lots of uninterrupted time to sit with a pen and a journal and just scribble thoughts till my  hearts content.

I haven't even really had time to solidify any resolutions for 2016, though I did settle on a "word" for the year, which I will tell you about next week since this post has already gotten rather long (and I'm trying to wrap it up with sick kiddos at home!).

Oddly enough, we have some pretty big deal family trips planned for 2016-- one for a wedding in England and one to visit some very good friends who all happen to live in Salt Lake City by a matter of coincidence.

So, if you catch one of the girls in the next few weeks and ask them what they would like to do in 2016 this is what they will tell you...

1. "Get my ears pierced."  That would be Ella who we promised could pierce her ears on her 7th birthday...it's a milestone in the Littlewood household, and one that she has patiently waited for.  Scott is not a fan of those mall ear piercing kiosks (which is where we took Ava, and where they pierced her ears unevenly!), and so she will be getting them pierced at a local tattoo studio owned by my cousin. I told Ella she will be the only 7 year old I have ever met to have her ears pieced in a tattoo studio. You can tell by the gleam in her eyes that it all suits her just fine, and might fit her far better than some mall kiosk with a dirty teddy bear anyway.

2. "Go to England."

Yes, England, the country. Not New England the regional area where Scott and I lived for a while.

Yes, England...like international flight with three children who don't have passports yet, one of whom will not quite be 3. Haha. I pity the people next to us on the plane.

Alas, my brother in law (the hubby's twin) is getting married to a lovely British girl who hails from the London area in early April. We toyed with the idea of leaving the kids in the States and just heading over by ourselves, but struggled to figured out a reasonable babysitting option because his mother, who is usually our overnight, Mary Poppins, babysitter extraordinaire will be in England for the wedding. And, while I do have family here... it's a long story and in the end it was either I stay home with the kids, which for a very long while seemed  like the safest, most logical and reasonable option, or we all just go.

Scott was always a fan of us all going.

I was like...no, that's crazy...but, yes, we should...but, not I can't, I hate flying...but, yes, we need to live life not in fear, but with faith...but no, but yes...but no, but yes...

Finally, and this is kind of how we make many of our decisions (like when we were deciding whether to have a third child, for example!), in a moment of "yes" we took the plunge and, in this case, bought the tickets. In that other case, well, you know.

3. "Go to Utah."

A very good friend of Scott's moved to Salt Lake City with his wife and three kids years ago. They've kept in touch and Scott has always wanted to head out there, but we just haven't had the chance. Well, this year, some good friends of ours from here moved there-- these friends have 4 young kids and were looking at the only Christian school in the Salt Lake City area, where our other friends kids happen to go. They all connected and now we get pictures of our old Boston friends with our more recent Buffalo friends all hanging out. Seeing as we love the outdoors, and love both of these families it seemed like a "must do" kind of trip, and while we already have one big trip on the books waiting a year to visit our friends in Utah seems far to far away...so...

We're going to embrace the adventure of it all.

And while "adventure" is not my "word"  for the year, I'm beginning to think that it should be.

The reality is that my family didn't do a whole lot when I was growing up. Money was an issue, for one, but my parents have also lived within very limited means emotionally their whole lives. That is a whole other story entirely, and not one that I'm going to venture into here, but at the end of the day I want my kids to embrace their lives with eyes wide open. I want them to see new people, places, and things. I don't want them to live safe lives out of fear, or safe thinking, but to embrace curiosity, and have the confidence to explore new places and ideas.

Now that I think about it, that might be "resolution" enough for one year, but the reality is that I, of course, have all sorts of writing and reading ideas up my sleeve as well. I probably won't be able to tackle as many of them as I'd like, but I'm going to keep jotting them down, keeping them fresh and kicking them around. I refuse to allow life to become so monotonous that "adventure" seems like a bad word.

I look forward to sharing my other "word of the year" with you later this week, and keeping you up to date on all of the other shenanigans going on in the Littlewood household.

Until then, drop a comment or thought about any adventures you are hoping to go on this year, particularly with kids in toe.

Here's to the crazy adventure of 2016!






P.S. For the record, I'm posting this 3 days after I wrote it because the babe got sick (double ear and bronchial infection), and then our oldest has been home with me for two days with severe congestion, and a sore throat.The hubs was out of town for two days (back home tonight), and I'm popping massive numbers of vitamins in an attempt to stay healthy.  I've snuck away to re-read this quickly and make any corrections I can find, but apologize for any egregious typos (I'm sure there are many!).  That's about how the cookie crumbles around here these days!