how to find joy -- in motherhood

Let's face it. Being a mother takes work. Hard work. And patience. Mega patience. It's easy to coast through the days -- of diaper changes, and messy floors, and fighting, and laundry, and driving, and cooking, and burping, and homework, and tucking in, and picking up -- and begin to lose joy.

Don't lose it. It's there, in those everyday moments. I look for it -- and you can too. In fact, here are six little {intentional} ways you can find beautiful joy in motherhood.

1} Keep your eyes open. Not as in awake, which if you've got very young children is a feat in itself, but rather your eyes open to the little small things that your children do around you. Things they see. Or say. Or share. When your eyes are open -- when you're aware -- you will begin to notice snippets of beauty throughout the mundane of the day. Their joy will eventually become your joy.

2} Get down on their level. Seriously. If your toddler can't see above the counter than get down there and view the world the way he does. Remember how you were just getting after him for not pulling on the handle to the cabinet? Well, once you see the world at his height you'll realize that it wasn't because he wasn't listening, but rather it was the only way to put the cup on the counter - where you asked them to place it. Changes the perspective, doesn't it? Getting down also creates an entire world of play. Your kids see you eye to eye. And you can laugh right by each other.

3} Let it go. Put away the parenting magazines, and cute baby shows on tlc, and the decorating ideas, and even those blogs. We're all just people. With ideas. That we share. But, God made each of us unique -- the mom to each of those kids in your home -- and we're the perfect mom for those kids. While the ideas in the parenting magazine look amazing if you base success and joy and happiness on having the "ideal" birthday party or homeschool plan or perfect diy kids project, well, then, discontent can rear it's ugly head. I know. And that? That robs joy.

4) Pray over them at night. While they're sleeping. That super hard day -- the day where the toliet overflowed because they flushed a toy doughnut down it {just ask me how I know} and the day when the permanent marker got used on the hardwood floor and the same day where someone decided to eat all the pickles in the pickle jar -- is just a day. And at night, those cute little faces look angelic. And perfect. So pray over them. And the day? It will fade away.

5) Don't keep a record. Of wrongs. And specifically your own mistakes. It's all too easy to base one's day and parenting moments on mistakes. Maybe your temper was short one day -- it doesn't define you as a mother -- instead take the moment, learn from it, and move on. Remember the Lord's mercies are new every morning. And, don't be afraid to admit mistakes. There are many times where I come in, and look my kids in the eye, and tell them, "I'm sorry." We're not perfect. I try to live and honor the Lord in all I do -- parenting and all.

6) Love what they love. Watch their television shows. Read their books. Play soccer in the backyard. Listen to their music. Learn to love their interests their passions. God created them unique. You as their parent are blessed with the glorious and beautiful gift to help them uncover their gifts. Embrace this time. It's short.

Why joy? And why joy in motherhood? Some history. About five years ago, right when my husband was finishing up treatment for cancer, I came to the realization that I was living my life on hold -- waiting for the "ideal" setting and perfect scenario to happen before I would be happy -- and I was miserable. I was quickly convicted that my life, the right now, was to be lived fully. Embracing the everyday. The ups and downs. And surrendering my heart while seeking the gifts of joy, the gems, tucked within.

I know that you all have your own sweet and beautiful ways in which you view motherhood and joy and life. I'd love to hear your favorites -- even if it's, "let your kids have ice cream for dinner in the summer just once." Because we do that. And they love it.

Be blessed. And tell those sweet ones in your life you love them. That would be #7.

drop everything. we're going outside.

If you had been in my house yesterday morning, those were the words my little boys heard. It was early morning, the sun was shining (which was glorious after enduring two solid mornings of thunderstorms) and in front of our yard a red St. Michael dump truck pulled up.

{Brennan, left, with his great next door friend, Liam -- talking trucks.}

They were fixing the roads.

I knew the day was coming. I read about it in the newsletter, and I kind of hinted to my construction loving and big truck boys, but I didn't know the day. And yesterday morning, the day I was so stressed about the shoulder mri, was the day where I could drop the morning chores and to-do lists and race into the front yard with my kids and experience their delight.

Such a gift from God - this break from normal.

It made me gather those boys (and Grace) and grab Hannah's camera and sit outside in the morning grass and watch those big trucks. Well, actually, I was watching those kids of mine. Watching them laugh and wonder and grin and sneak looks at those guys who got to drive the big trucks. And I relented to a picture by the big cone sitting in our driveway

I didn't think about my mri the entire hour we spent in our lawn enjoying life.

You got to grab those moments. And sometimes those gifts of a perfect moment end up parked in front or your yard. Then, seriously, you really must grab those moments.

Oh yes, and Samuel? He watched from inside the living room window with dad.

*******

Thanks for the prayers regarding my shoulder. My mri went great. Honestly, the hardest part was getting the injection into my shoulder. I didn't really prep myself mentally for that aspect of the whole procedure. They decided they didn't need an iv, and did a local injection into the joint. It was quite uncomfortable (and weird feeling). After that they led me to the mri, offered me music (classical), put my shoulder in some funky sling holder thingy (those are my technical terms), and pushed me back. It was this weird feeling -- hearing classical music and then loud medical noises all around. Made me tear up a bit.

But, I was fine. Great, actually. I got sleepy. And even (gasp) opened my eyes. And it wasn't that bad. I was in almost all the way -- my knees were out -- and yet I wasn't scared or terrified. I just felt peaceful.

I see my surgeon in 6 days. We'll see what he says. I keep getting all these mixed reviews on everything, and honestly, like my mom says, I need to not listen to any until I can speak with this doctor. Then I'll know.

Thanks for all the prayers.

lessons i've learned

some of what i've learned
being the momma of seven
who seeks joy
{inspired by the picture archives on my blog}

always take pictures of baby feet
no explanation why needed

spilled messes on the floor are okay.

 you get to wash your floor afterwards and then check it off your list.

 if your house is like mine you'll always have spills and therefore always have a clean floor
in fact, i love this tip so much that i wrote about it last year
so-thankful-for-those-spills

socks don't need to match

it's much easier to just grab socks and wear them together

however

hanes socks are the best - they color-code their socks

but, hee hee, i don't always make them match

it's okay to cry
not about everything
but my kids have seen me cry
about Samuel and Celiac Disease
or when my grandpa died
cry and tell them it will be okay and that sometimes we need to cry
then give them a hug

always grill in the summer

there's less cleanup

but more propane costs

but again

less clean up

{and if you don't know how to grill -- you simply must learn}

watch them when they don't realize you are

you'll hear them talking to each other about God

or lining up cars

or laughing with each other

and it will do your heart good

save some of their artwork

especially artwork that pictures mom as a mean monster

{which my daughter hannah drew when she was six}

or mom as the princess

{which she drew the next day}
and display their artwork on your fridge

buy costumes on clearance in november
and then you will get pictures like this

teach them about weeds

and share your love of lawns with your kids

but, be prepared for them to point out weedy lawns to you
and gradually they'll learn to love gardening
maybe as much as you do

sing with your kids

we make up our own songs for the kids

and love to spend our time singing and humming and singing
and playing piano
{just look at baby Samuel...sigh}

be prepared for noise

which, one day, you will miss

find an ikea

and invest in their pack of plastic glasses and bowls

and then don't get mad if you find them outside in the sandbox

buy garden tools for the beach

{learned this from my aunt}

your kids will rock the beach when they can dig on with an actual garden digger

versus the shovel

and play in the sand with them - building the coolest sand castle on the beach

 don't sweat potty training
really, trust me, they'll get it
{if you're in the midst you might not believe me}
but every single time my kids eventually caught on
relax
and invest in cheap underwear that you can throw away if needed

be goofy with your kids

run through the sprinkler, play cards

make sure to take time to 

laugh

{remember these pics from my birthday?}

that's what they'll remember

hold them at bedtime
especially when they ask you to stay for just a minute more
because one day they'll be too big
and you'll be so sad
and if you need to remember
read Love you Forever
{by Robert Munsch}

let them cook

and that will probably mean some fails

but tell them that because it didn't work out that next time they know what not to do

and then one day they'll make you yummy food

{like my kids do}

pray with them

always

throughout the day

even if it's just before math

or soccer practice

and always before dinner

they'll remember this even more

teach them animal sounds

and make sure to make the pig sound as a real snorting noise

and add odd sounds

cause then your child sounds like a genius

sit and listen

let them talk to you
stay at the table

don't add your agenda

your schedules

but just listen

listen

listen

listen

and you will be blessed.

how about you?

lessons learned?
favorite lesson of mine?

please do share.

to elijah. again.

{yesterday he was busy}

Dear Elijah,

You are my sixth child. You're the child that we were told we could never have after Daddy was diagnosed with cancer. You surprised us all back then so should you stop surprising us now with your tremendous determination?

You are busy. You keep me on my toes every single day. Even though you're not quite four you already seem to be four. And as you like to tell me, "I'm big." How could I ever forget?

You bring tremendous joy to this household. You are funny, funny, funny. The Lord must have known we all needed to laugh. A lot. Thanks, Elijah, for providing the humor at just the right time. Even if it might just be that hand-drawn mustache that you added to your adorable face. {this is my fave picture even though it's blurry}

You are an amazing big brother to Samuel.

So why am I writing you again? I just needed to be reminded about how amazing you are -- sometimes all I see is the work. The cleaning up. The busy and loudness. And I forget to see all the amazing qualities of you. I'm sorry.

You are more important than the Chex cereal spilled all over the family room floor, or the line drawn on the wall by the stairs {and yes, I know it was a railroad track}, or the half-eaten pieces of fruit that you put back, or the fact that I see you running around outside with your pants on backward {cause you're trying}, or the boxes of sorted toys that you dumped out because you wanted the boxes, or muddy little footprints across the floor.

I love those things actually.

Life would be boring without them.

Elijah, you are loved.

Wait.

Elijah, you are extremely like-crazy mega loved.

~mom

***

who would you write your letter to today?

little did i know....

....how truly thankful I would be for that bag of $1.99 freezie popsicles that I mentioned yesterday in my {friday} favorites post. 

Or how much I'd miss that highchair that I wrote about on Wednesday in my big boy post.

Why? Yesterday morning, as my family was eating breakfast {which of course would be their favorite pbjs and Samuel's gluten free bread pbj} Samuel decided to lean in off of the chair that he was standing on {which he knows he's not to do} and when he took a step forward there wasn't a chair. It was air.

And he fell.

{that's him standing there again an hour later -- sigh}

As soon as I picked him up I knew he got hurt -- I could see the blood everywhere on the white pajama shirt with his favorite dump truck -- but I didn't know how bad. As Caleb ran upstairs crying, and sobbing that he didn't want Samuel to go back to the hospital {the whole Celiac experience really scared him about hospitals and brothers that get sick} Todd came running down with a wet washcloth.  I tried ice. He just wouldn't keep anything in that mouth to stop the bleeding.

Then Todd remembered our popsicle trick.  He pulled out a freezie, snipped the top, and handed over the tube of gluten-free, but super sugary, cold goodness to Samuel. As he sucked on that drippy mess the bleeding slowly {and I mean slowly} began to subside.

I saw that his top teeth met the bottom lip and proceeded to gouge out a big chunk.

Sigh.  After a quick call to my mother and a plea on twitter {thank you twitter friends} asking if bottom lips get stitched and another popsicle {this time orange} Samuel was ready to get off of my lap and go on with his day.

I am really truly completely all-the-way thankful for those popsicles.

And now I remember why we keep one {or two} hidden in the back of the freezer.

So now that you've heard my newest Samuel tale {how much drama can one little one have in his 21 months?} go to your local store and invest in those plastic wrapped freezies.  Eat a few. And save the rest -- make sure to hide them -- in the back of the freezer.  You just never know when you'll need one and how grateful you'll be that it's tucked away back there.

Oh, Samuel, oh my. I love you like crazy.

any been there done that tips like my popsicle one? please do share.
and the lip? this morning? considerably better.

the last times

Gracie came to me this morning carrying two hair binders and asked if I'd braid her hair.  As she sat in front of me -- with her bright orange tee shirt and equally bright lime green capris -- I began to wonder about those last times.

When will be the last time I braid her hair? Will I remember?

As my fingers grabbed strand after strand of her long hair I could feel the bitersweet nostalgia that parenting brings along with it. I looked at Hannah -- typing away in the kitchen -- and wondered about the last times I had with her. That I probably didn't even remember.

The last time running behind her as she biked.

The last time she awoke due to thunder and wanted to sleep in my room.

The last time her hand fit in my hand.

I kept braiding. Over and under and over and under and over and in that repetitive pattern I began to realize that life is full of these last time moments. They're everywhere. The last time we go to that store or drive that road or live in this home or go to that church or finish third grade or have a high chair in the kitchen or my baby will eat gluten or have toddlers in the home or have little toy trains to clean up or be able to give that person a hug.

 On one hand I'm thankful that I don't know all the time that this is the last time for that event. I don't think my heart could constantly deal with knowing it was the last. And yet, I wonder about those moments -- if I knew that it was really ending. That time was changing. That my kids were growing. That it was the last time.

I want to live each day awake. Aware that at any moment it could be the last time.

When Samuel brings me that baby board book with the lift-the-flap puppy picture and wants to sit on my lap and read it for the 15th time today I want to say yes. To simply enjoy him. Patting my arm. Hearing him telling me - puppy. Nestling into me.

Someday, it will be the last time.

And I want to remember.

where oh where oh where....

...did my little boy go?

Brennan started soccer on Monday. He's been waiting and waiting and waiting - and practicing and practicing and practicing. And finally, this hot hot hot week {yesterday we hit 102 -- and we live in Minnesota where at other times it gets to be negative 42} soccer began.

And he was happy.

And I saw my little boy, my first born son, grow up. Just a bit. 

{taken with the phone}

And I am so proud.

Being a mother is all about these moments, these days of seeing our little ones grow up. It's so hard to not fight it -- to wish to keep them little -- and yet, those moments of childhood are so fleeting. It's such a mixture of sweetness and bitter-sweetness and remembering and encouraging and living in the moment.

Oh yeah, and I am looking into soccer scholarships now for that boy.  hee hee hee. That's the pride of a momma's heart. :)

the real important

the day was a blur

there was so much to do

writing and deadlines to finish

dishes spilling over the counter

crumbs to sweep

I kept moving

from thing to thing to thing

I'd clean one area and just as I was done

another one needed my attention

it felt urgent

necessary

important

then little Samuel walked over

with his nuk dangling from his mouth

{that i'm trying so hard to break him of}

and his green soccer ball shirt

with the cute plaid shorts

he could see the broom in my hand

and rags in the other

but he didn't care

he didn't see the watermelon stains dotting the floor
or the dishes to be unloaded
or the papers to be tidied

he just wanted a hug

to be in my arms
rest
safe

as I gathered him in my arms
it became so clear to me
LET HIM END THE HUG
not me
with my rushing agendas
and pats
and quick I love you's

so I stayed

and stayed

and stayed

and stayed

as the afternoon light shone through the window
dancing off of our embrace
it was Samuel and me
resting

with now not so important work around

so I let him end the hug
when he was ready

and I was blessed.

peeling away the labels

At times I'd love life to be neat.

Wake up at 6:30. Have breakfast. Clean the kitchen. Read some books. Garden. Lunch at noon, of course. Naptime for the littles and reading time for the rest. Snack. Dinner prep. Devotion. Evening clean-up.Family game. Fold some clothes. Bed.

But, as I age the more I realize that life isn't always neat. Oh, I'll have those days where everything lines up, where we follow some semblance of a routine -- and then I'll go to bed feeling like I did it. I'll have these false ideas of being this super-mom.  Then the next day I will be humbled. Nothing will get done, the clean house destroyed, and I'll go to bed feeling like I failed.

Those labels hold me back.

Life, and being a mother, isn't about assessing each day at the end of the day and giving it a pass or fail grade. It's way to easy to fall into this slump, this pattern, of judging one's day too harshly. There are going to be days that don't line up neatly -- and yet there still can be this joy woven into the messiness.

In getting corn husks scattered on the deck. In laughing little boys as they race to peel their ear first. In being whimsical. In letting go of what happened in the morning and replacing it with what's happening now.

Motherhood doesn't need to be graded.

Motherhood needs to be constantly placed at the feet of Jesus. It's a time of surrender -- of realizing that even though I got frustrated at 8:38 a.m. that I can still be joyful at 8:58 a.m. It's in moving forward, not being weighed down by this and that and what I should be doing or what they're doing that I think I should be doing or my child's needs to do this stuff or my home doesn't look like the Anthropologie catalog or my hair is terrible or my child can't read level 3 chapter books or my grass looks terrible or I just can't do this -- those thoughts that need to be led to the truth. Truth? Those things, those ideas, those wants -- they don't define success. They don't determine happiness.

All they do is distort the beauty in what is right in front of us everyday.

Motherhood is a gift.

And each mother, each one is unique. What works for her might not work for me. And that is okay. My grade? Only comes from the Father above.

I can shuck those ears of corn with gratitude. Grateful for an evening to spend laughing with my kids and asking for forgiveness for being too cranky over the line of cars strewn about the living room.

There's the rest of the evening. And tomorrow. And the next day. And the next minute. And...

Seize the moment. Find the joy. It's there.

little blue eyes

whisper to me

what you're thinking

share with me

how you see

 things

as beautiful

that we mistake 

as weeds

sweet one

with your innocent heart

let me learn your secrets

but let me still 

hold you

care for you

carry you

while you still fit

little one

little one

i love you