Truth for the Trenches

  We weren’t the worst kids terrorizing the store clerks but we were the loudest. My kids could be heard screaming across the store because I put them in time out buckled into the cart. I could be heard three aisles away saying “don’t touch that, put your hand on the cart, and stop running” all in one breath. There were minutes where the plastic front car got us through the produce section and the cookie got us through the unbearable wait at the deli counter. But no amount of Starbucks double shot lattes could get me through those aisles and out the door with a smile. We have all been there. The drive to the grocery store was full of complaining over the music and which way you chose. They have already started fighting about who gets a little cart and who is riding in the car part of the grocery cart. Getting everyone out of the car without their stuffed animals, purses, wallets and other accessories was an argument. It is too close to lunch time to be starting this endeavor a

I compete with my used-to-be self as much as my assumptions of what other moms can do. Nursing a newborn in Costco while shopping and chasing my two-year-old…I can’t do that anymore. Panic floods my head when I think about taking three kids to buy the new shoes my oldest needs AND return clothes I mistakenly bought. But, I think I should be able to handle what I once couldn’t. I think I should be able to do everything I once could. When our third child was born I barely stopped. Maternity leave doesn’t exist when you are a stay at home mom with older kids around. It wasn’t a healthy choice, it wasn’t even the right choice. I believed the lie that I was supposed to do everything and that when a new baby was brought home I was supposed to keep that same pace. This lie of business, of consistency and perfection is one Satan so silently whispers. “Keep up, don’t stop, don’t fall behind…” We want to be out in front, noticed, appreciated, valued, looked up to. When we strive for this we

My room is a mess, it has clothes I bought that need to be tried on and returned, stuffed animals carried in from little ones, books piled up on most surfaces, shoes and bags that haven't been unpacked after returning from vacation one week ago. It is the last room on my list to clean up. My husband appreciates when it is the first and so I have been trying to put things away at night or after they are used. But, sometimes our plans don't work. Sometimes the mess is all the other rooms is so vast that we choose the rooms we live in most. Walking around the downstairs of our house I am overwhelmed by how the blankets, books, dolls, socks, Lego, dishes...are so misplaced. Where does the chaos come from? By Sunday night I feel like I will not be able to dig us out. Our feelings convince us of dramatic ideas don't they? These same feelings creep in and ruin days or evenings with my family because I want them to get out of the way and let me pick up. I want them to stop