remarkable

I feel invisible 98% of the time. From the minute I wake up till the minute my head hits the pillow, I am a Mom. I nurse babies, I change diapers, and say things like,"watch where you are going" and "you need to obey mom" over 50 times a day. I plan meals, or try to; I could be considered a laundry expert. I have set aside my dreams, aspirations, desires, for three little lives- that they might change the world and live for Jesus. And I don't really mind that sacrifice. Most of the time.

What I mind is that my life looks like every other Mom's life out there. There is nothing remarkable or different about it. People look at me and think,"she needs a vacation," sometimes I think I've forgotten how to even have fun. I've actually thought, "I am to tired to smile."

So where do I go with this? Where has it taken me? If I find out, I'll let you know...

Fickle hearts

I was pondering the part in the book of John where Jesus questions Peter three times whether he loves Him or not and then tells him to feed his sheep. I couldn't help but notice Jesus' questioning of Peter's fickle heart. The same heart that so boldly exclaimed he would never betray Jesus and then barely 24 hours later did it blatantly. We think we know what we want, what we feel and then we change so quickly.

Am I really so different? One day I want to move, the next I can't bear the thought of leaving. One day I love being at home with the kids, the next I am ready to run out the door and never return. Moment by moment my heart transfers from adoration of Christ to clinging to food, security, money, purpose or adventure to make me feel alive. I can barely keep up with myself.

And of course our kids are the same way. Like us, they don't know what they want, they chase after things that don't satisfy, they become overwhelmed by tears when those things disappoint, their hearts bounce back and forth through an obstacle of things. For example, when hiking last weekend my son changed his mind every 100 feet as to whether he wanted up in the backpack or wanted to walk on his own. Eventually he succombed to a complete and total fit where Chris and I were utterly beffuddled as to what he wanted. So what did we do? We decided for him. And sure he didn't like it but eventually he calmed down and accepted his lot. We know better than he does what is best for him. He doesn't yet know how to deal with his emotions. He doesn't yet know what is best for him. It is up to us to teach him.

Likewise, we shouldn't take any of this personally, especially those moments when your child seems to disdain you but love your spouse. Or worse yet, hate you both but love the grandparents. Their hearts are swayed by the moment, it is not personal, it is not lasting. In fact, sometimes it doesn't even last a minute. We need to teach them steadfast love by not becoming frustrated when they ask for a yogurt and then refuse to eat it; by not taking it personally when they say they want Dad to come home or won't give you a hug. Ultimately the battle is not with you, it is with their own brokenness and the sin that entangles.

Jesus understood Peter's fickle heart. He let him make bold declarations and then fall on his face. He accepted him back unconditionally. He met Peter where he was at, but still gave him clear and complete instructions. And with those instructions he entrusted Peter with one of the biggest commissions of all time.

Semanitisize this...

Is that even a word? Would I like it if it was?
Anyways...our daughter loves monsters. I've spent much time thinking about this strange phenomenon and have whittled it down to a few possible causes. The first being the cookie monster- the first official monster she learned about. And she has a strictly love love relationship with anything cookie in its name.

The second being her father, who for fun and games crawls around the house growling at the kids and grabbing their stuffed animals in his mouth and tossing them to the side. I mean what is a little girl to do?


So now we have table monsters- purple ones, brown, blue, green. Some crawl, some stand. Most dwell under tables eating our crumbs (I am sad nothing dwells under our table and eats their crumbs) and now I've been introduced to a new one called a "cow-poke" for lack of better understanding. Apparently this one will come out from under tables, can walk around, and will go in the house to hide from the people. While most 4 year old girls play princess or wedding, ours runs from room to room playing monster and running from them. What is the meaning of that?

Hops and Hurtles

I've entitled this blog Lessons in semantics.

se·man·tics
   /sɪˈmæntɪks/
1.Linguistics.
a.the study of meaning.

2.the meaning, or an interpretation of the meaning, of a word, sign, sentence, etc.:

But let's not argue about semantics.

It is 9:45pm on Friday May 14th. I am currently trying my hand at writing again while multi-tasking the art of motherhood. Which at this exact moment involves drinking a beer while the kids sleep. Tough gig, you think? But I do. See the beer is to increase my milk production for our 2 month old daughter Ezzie, and I hate beer. Why, I ask, does beer apparently aid in milk production? Why can't it be chocolate. I'd even settle for scrambled eggs. My milk recently took a downward turn after a week and half bout with the worst flu bug I've experienced, at least in terms of longevity... I'll let you know how this grand 'beer experiment' works. I figure I'll give it a week.

I have been thinking of beginning this blog for 4 years now, starting roughly when I had my first child. But now that we are on to number three I've decided I finally have enough time to do it. Either that or my body has finally become conditioned to the insane schedule of a mom. One that provides little sleep, little mental stimulation (in terms of conversation beyond the subject level of special treats, cars and poopy diapers), but much emotional provocation at every turn.

Don't get me wrong- having kids isn't all bad. It is my life at this point, the portion assigned me by God, and the daily small victories both in winning my child's heart and in changing those part of me that need changing make it worth it.

Victory of the day:

Anibel:" Mom's do lots of chores. I'm a pretend mommy to Nia so I must do lots of chores. And it will please Jesus."