Things I Don't Do...

I was pretty profoundly affected by Shauna Niequist’s book “Bittersweet.” Her chapter entitled “Things I Don’t Do” especially moved me. Shauna writes about learning to give up some things in order to do the things you really care about. As I read her list I felt the liberation she must have felt in letting go. And my mind began to race with all the things I didn’t want to do…all the things I was suddenly free to choose not to do. It was exciting! Freeing! And slightly overwhelming. Some of these things were so deeply ingrained in my sense of self that it felt naked and vulnerable to walk away from them. I hold so tightly to the person I want to be, the better, shinier, more together person; letting go of some of the things I think I should do is inevitably tied into letting go of the person I keep hoping I someday will become. But I am slowly, carefully trying to let go of that person in favor of accepting the reality of who I am…and embracing that reality with all the grace and love I can muster. So here are the things I don’t do (and a few things I do).

I don’t consistently remember people’s birthdays and send them cards and perfect gifts. Sometimes, when the stars align just right, I have the foresight to anticipate the upcoming birthday in enough time to buy a card and get it out in the mail to arrive on said birthday. Most of the time, though, I realize it’s a dear friend’s birthday at about 9pm on the day of said birthday and frantically call before I’m officially deemed a crap friend. I love, love, love to send “just because” cards and gifts as the inspiration strikes and feel that this gesture comes from a much more authentic, and non- guilt driven place.

I don’t wear make up most of the time or leave my house looking 100% together. I used to before Liam was born. And maybe someday, when I know for sure that I can squeeze a shower in before 5pm, I will again. But in this season I’m ok with only the occasional cute outfit and blown out hair.

I don’t feel bad about my house, especially after I visit a house that is much better decorated than mine. The thing is, I don’t watch HGTV or decorate my house. If inspiration strikes I may find something cool to hang on that blank dining room wall, but only if I really want to- not because I just visited a home that is cuter than mine. Instead I just ask those friends with cuter houses to help me.

I don’t let a lack of time or desire to cook prevent me from entertaining or attending a party. When I want to, and the mood strikes I’ll bring a homemade dish, or make dinner for quests. Otherwise, take out or a bottle of wine is usually better than whatever I make anyway.

I don’t read things on the Internet that stress me out or make me feel like a bad mom/wife/friend/Christ follower. I don’t read things that leave me feeling anxious that I’m not doing something right or accomplishing enough with my life. This includes, but is not limited to facebook profiles and pictures, blogs, websites, and amazon.com reviews of books written by people my age that a may or may not have met at some point in my life. (For the record, this is a really, really hard one and I may or may not need some hardcore accountability on this one J)

I don’t hang out with people who make me feel like life is a race and I’m not keeping up.

I don’t confuse caring about other people’s feelings with taking responsibility for their feelings. Because I don’t take responsibility for other people’s feelings. Nor do I take responsibility for the things they refuse to speak up about on their own. I have the right and ability to speak up for myself when I am hurt, angry, sad, happy, frustrated or overwhelmed. Everyone else in my life also has that right. I don’t take responsibility for their feelings when they choose not to exercise that right.

I don’t spend a lot of time beating myself up for my imperfections. This is one of the hardest to let go of, and what I think I will be most tempted by. Sometimes I will forget that I don’t do this, but I will remind myself to stand in grace and move on.

I don’t feel guilty about the things I don’t do.

And now….what the heck to I do??

I love God and I work to make my life a song that makes him smile, laugh, delight and brag. I strive to keep Christ at my center and core and to continue to grow and stretch and change as he leads. I work towards remembering that life with God is cyclical and not linear, so at times I will appear to circle back while moving forward. I pray and read and think and write as acts of worship and means of growth.

I prioritize my relationship with my husband. I work to love him better, know him more intimately, serve him more selflessly, and believe the very best about him. I save energy, desire, laughter, and humor for him. And every once in a while, at 4:45 pm, I change out of the yoga pants and nursing tank I’ve been wearing all day and into something cute and stylish that I could actually leave the house in just so that he can come home to the version of me I would like the rest of the world to see…every once in a while.

I give my freshest, most focused energy into raising my son. I build forts and read books and spend as much of his awake time as possible engaging him and kissing him and making him laugh. And I fervently pray that he will grow to be a man of character with a heart that is sensitive to the holy spirit and the work of God, that he will be kind and loving and happy, that he will have a peace and contentment that comes from knowing he is loved first and foremost.

I take very seriously my role as wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, teacher and mentor. I give time and energy to nurture these relationships and love those who I have been blessed to have in my life. I create communities where I can and strive to bring a sense of God’s love and presence into my interactions with people throughout the day.

I try in large ways and small to leave this world better than the way I found it. I move the conversation surrounding racial reconciliation forward; I love justice and fight for it in as many ways that I can; I use my resources in ways that promote equality and fair, ethical practices; I try to educate myself and stay aware of what’s happening in the world. I recycle.

I stand in grace every day. Grace for others, and for myself. I hold these things I do and don’t do loosely, allowing myself grace again and again when I don’t quite meet the standards I set for myself. I hold expectations for others loosely as well, allowing grace again and again when those in my life are human.

Necklaces and Mom Friends

I have a necklace that I wear pretty much every day. Not being a necklace person, it says a lot that I wear this one so frequently. It was given to me by my sister, the kind of for no reason gift that she is so prefect at giving. A gold pendant engraved with the letter “L” hangs from a simple gold chain. It is simple, quiet and sweet. I added a tiny red ladybug charm from another necklace that I used to wear all the time. The L on the pendant stands for my son's first name. And the ladybug charm came from my “Colleen” necklace. One of my friends, a jewelry designer, created this necklace as part of her “C” collection. Each season she puts out a new collection of jewelry all named after girls, beginning with the same letter of the alphabet. The simple, very tiny ladybug charm on a simple gold chain was the Colleen necklace, named after me because I reminded Becca of a cute little ladybug. If the L pendant represents Monster, than that ladybug represents me.

I wear these two charms together on my new favorite necklace. But what people see first is the L pendant. It’s about 5 times the size of the ladybug, often covering it up when the ladybug falls behind the pendant. Then, if they are looking closely enough they’ll notice the ladybug. This necklace feels an awful lot like my identity right now. I have a five and a half month old. What people see first in me is motherhood. They see Monster, they see me as Monster’s mom. Then they notice the ladybug, the Colleen parts of me that existed long before Monster was even a thought in the back of my mind.

There is something about motherhood, like my “L” pendant, that is so totally eclipsing of everything else. And I can’t decide if I am going to embrace it or fight it. I love my son. I love him with more than emotion I can really adequately explain, more weight than I can truly feel, more energy than I thought I had. And we are connected in ways that are inexplicable to me. He seems to be able to sense me, moving ever so slightly on the video moniter when I walk in the door. When I’m nursing him his stomach grumbles, and I honestly can’t be sure if it’s his stomach or mine that is making the noise. “I” has become “we” in my vocabulary. “We’re doing well, thanks!” “We’re having a rough day.” And while there is beauty and wonder in this connectedness there is also a sense of loss. Am I losing myself? Am I losing the parts that make me Colleen in order to make room for all that makes me Liam’s mom?

I’ve made a few new friends since Monster came into my life. These are my mom friends. Mom friends are great. I’m pretty picky about my mom friends. For example, the transition into motherhood may have been sunshine and roses for you and you have nothing bad or hard or difficult to confess about those early weeks (months, years) of motherhood. If that’s the case, awesome for you, but we probably can’t be mom friends. I need people who are honest about the hard stuff, the negative stuff, the part that wasn’t sunshine and roses. So my mom friends are the ones who don’t make it seem effortless and easy. They’re willing to complain about the hard phases and don’t act like their little one was born from the perfection mold. Cause mine certainly wasn’t. Anyway, you become close to your mom friends rather quickly; similar life situations have a way of doing that. And most of these women would probably never be in my life if it weren’t for the fact that our kids are the same age. Kate is one of those people. She has lived 2 doors down from me for the almost three years we have lived in this house. And yet it wasn’t until Monster was born two weeks before her son that we even talked to one another. Now we text almost everyday, take our kids on walks together, and even leave the boys home with their dads while we go out for a drink. My husband was telling me that Kate used to be a sick field hockey player. Jordan, her husband, told Tommy, my husband, that when she was on the field she was always the best one out there. I didn’t know this about Kate. I don’t know much about her life pre- motherhood at all actually. I know about her son’s sleep schedule, his day-to-day activities, how Kate spends her time with him. But I don’t know much about who Kate was before she was somebody's mom. It makes me wonder what she doesn’t know about me, about who I was before I was Monster’s mom.

Right now the demands of being Monster’s mom far outweigh the time and space left to be me. It is this season of infancy that requires me to be Monster’s mom first. But what will be left of me, of Colleen, when my strongest identifier is not longer that of Monster’s mom? How do I embrace the fullness of motherhood and still fight its eclipsing nature? For me, these questions don’t stem from an issue of time and space to do the things I love. I have a job that I go to 20 hours a week and a husband who’s more than willing to allow me some “me time.” It’s more about the mental and emotional factors. How do I mentally and emotionally separate myself from my son? How do I mentally and emotionally let go of what his needs are, if only for a few hours, in order to take care of my own? Do I? Should I?

These are just some questions I’m wrestling with…