That One Time When I Link You Up: Late to the Game Edition

It’s Friday night and I’m watching West Wing (duh).  Seriously man, this show.  As my husband says when the credits roll of every single episode, “this is the greatest show of all time.”  We’re waiting for two of our dearest friends to land at O’Hare from the west coast.  Their flight is two hours late.  Stupid O’Hare. 

I’ve got a few great links from the week for your weekend reading pleasure. 

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I’m not one to read obituaries, but this is perhaps the best picture of life lived sweetly and fully.

I love Louis C.K.  I love this clip.  Good comedy should always have a dash of philosophy.

This new Pope, man.  He's a little bit rebellious and a lotta bit social justice-y.  He almost makes me want to return to my catholic roots.

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Enjoy your weekend friends.  It’s been a long week and everyone’s ready to relax a little.  We’ve got lots of fun plans in the city with our friends including dinner at one of my all-time favorite restaurants.  I’ve been dreaming about it all week.  Mostly I’m just looking forward to sitting across the table from our good friends and enjoying their company.

Be well pals.

My Tribe

I was the first of most of my friends to have a baby.  Forging the way to motherhood had its difficult moments, but all in all was not really that bad.  I did, however, struggle with the whole “mom friends” thing.  Those of you with small children know that you need people, other adults, to hang out with during the day or else your brain will turn to mush and you will pounce on your poor introverted husband the second he walks in the door to talk all about what that crazy monkey did today on Curious George.  Poor introverted husband just wants a few moments to decompress, but as he’s the first adult you’ve had contact with all day, that’s not happening, amiright?  Enter the mom friend.  Someone you can walk to the park with and talk about real grown up ideas and not feel bad about the saggy diaper your kid is sporting.

The problem was I already had really great friends who just weren’t moms yet. My wonderful, compassionate, hilarious friends weren’t accessible during the day, as they had jobs to go to and non-yoga inspired clothes to wear, but they were amazing friends, nonetheless.  It seemed sort of silly to try to make a whole bunch of new friends, particularly when the only thing we had in common were little tyrants that now accompanied us everywhere.  I hated trying to force connection based on similar life stages so I decided to just wait it out.  Eventually at least some of my friends would have babies too and I’d finally have some adults to hang with during the day.  The only real friendship that came out of this waiting period was Kate who lived two doors down.  Both of our kiddos are born weeks apart and she doesn’t really feel like a mom friend because we would have been friends whether or not kids were in the picture.  It just so happened that we came across each other pushing newborns all around town in an attempt to keep our sanity.  We would continue to provide sanity saving comfort to each other for the next few years until we both moved off the street that made us neighbors.  

At any rate I am finding myself in the glorious stage of life where some of my friends have now become moms.  And we live close to each other.  For the past year or so, I’ve had a few mom friends in particular with whom I’ve been doing life.  It’s amazing, this mom friendship thing.  We know each other’s schedules.  We plan outings to help break up the monotony of the week.  We understand the monotony of the week!  We understand how a day with a small child can be so insanely, whiplash inducing crazy, while also being so incredibly, mind-numbingly boring.

I got into the car after an outing with these friends and our kids feeling full to bursting.  We had spent the morning catching up and sharing hearts all while continuing to do the parenting thing.  And, as we’ve all grown particularly close over the last year of doing life together, our kids were all interchangeable.  One friend pushes mine in the stroller, I help her kid go potty, we all dole out lunches and sippy cups and snacks.  She makes sure mine doesn’t run into the street, I watch hers while she pees.

I love that we take care of each other’s kids.  That their kids feel like my kids.  I love that it doesn’t matter who’s watching whom- I know it’s covered.  Our kids look forward to seeing each other, squealing with delight upon sight.  They feel comfortable with not just each other, but with all the adults.  These are familiar faces they know and love.  These are safe people they see every week.  It feels like a tribe, these friendships.  Like we’re all raising our kids together, that we’re invested in the lives of all these little ones, not just the ones we birthed.

My tribe will only grow from here, as I have many more friends not quite ready for kids yet, and many future babes to know and love.  I’m thankful for it all, but particularly for this sweet season of doing it day in and day out with women whom I knew and loved before kids and know and love even more now as mothers.

More Things I Don't Do...

A few years ago, spurred on by Shauna Niequist, I set about participating in the incredibly liberating practice of creating a list of Things I Don’t Do.  It was wonderful and empowering and all around freeing to say aloud the things I refuse to succumb to the “do this too” pressure.  As I find myself in a new season of life and weather I’ve been ticking off a few more things to add to the list.  I don’t know about you, but new school years and new seasons have me feeling the weight of DO ALL THE THINGS!!!  And also, this back to school time of year tricks me into thinking I need to reinvent myself, become more, better, bigger.  That this year is the year that I am finally all the things that I’m really not.  And so, here are a few more things I don’t do.  As always, if they are things that you do, bless you for it.  There is no judgment from me and I hope no judgment from you for my slacking.  I’ll probably solicit you to do them for me.

I don’t grow gardens, can vegetables, or make preserves or apple butter from scratch that I can save for the winter months.  I don’t actually know what apple butter is.  I am in awe of those of you who can do this.  Absolute, one-hundred-percent awe.  But seeing as my mom asked me to water her tomato plants while she was out of town for two days and the whole garden operation came tumbling down and my mom is still complaining about the poor crop she got this year, I’m ready to throw in the green thumb towel.  I would love to be able to walk into my backyard, hand pick all the produce necessary for a delicious salad and then serve it for dinner that night.  But I want someone else to do all the work to make that little scenario possible.  Same with being able to go to my pantry in four months and pull out a can of something that I grew myself when the sun was still warm and the green grass grew all around.  Alas, I’ve given up this dream and I feel ten pounds lighter saying it aloud.

I don’t do arts and crafts with my kids.  I’m not crafty.  I loathe glitter and pipe cleaners and glue.  I’ll read Go Dog, Go ‘til I’m blue in the face, will have one million tickle fights and will even sing the itsy bitsy spider (though that’s pushing it) before I get crafty with my kids.  I’m probably ruining Toots' and Monster’s creative potential, but judging by what they bring home from school and the gym kids program there may not be all that much there to begin with.  I just don’t have it in me.

I don’t do bento boxes or artistic lunches.  Monster may feel bad one day when his turkey sandwich, grapes and pretzels are haphazardly tossed in Tupperware while the kid next to him is munching on a lunch that would make the sous chef at a five star restaurant squeal with delight, but I’m not going to feel too bad about it.  I hate making lunches, so I’m going to call it a win that he has something in his monkey lunch box at all.

I also don’t get too perfectionist about Monster’s homework.  I want to.  His “Student of the Week” poster went back to school today looking like a three-year-old put it together and there was a small part of me that wanted to fix it all.  But then I remembered that a three year old did put it together and that three year old is pretty dang proud of his work.  Upside-down pictures and all.

What don’t YOU do?  What freeing things have you stopped doing for the greater good that I, too, can give up?

That One Time Where I Link You Up: Distracted Friday Edition

It’s Friday, Hallelujah!  This morning I poured coffee in my cereal and watched it happen for several seconds before what I was doing registered.  Then Charity and I attempted to take a Piloxing class at the gym (Pilates + boxing apparently) but the instructor never showed up so we ended up jumping in on the class next door.  I can’t even remember the name of this class but I will never, ever forget the 25 minutes of jumping, lunging, mountain climbing torture that I endured today.  Seriously, if you want to feel like an overweight fifty-six year old smoker who hasn’t worked out a day in her life, take this class.    So anyway, that’s the kind of day I’m having.  Thank goodness for the weekend! 

And now, for your weekend reading pleasure, here are some of my favorites from the week!

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Momastery is always, always my favorite.  This will restore your faith in humanity.

This one from A Deeper Story will make you long for Jesus to come and fix it all, while still being humbled by the author’s grace.

Hollywood Housewife is probably the first blog I ever truly followed.  I’ve been reading her for a few years and she always makes me want to hear more.  She wrote two things I loved this week.  This one is honest and vulnerable and this one will make you laugh.  I have a feeling she and her husband interact in ways very similar to Tommy and I. 

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We have youth group kick offs, school picnics and family parties this weekend.  Lots of good stuff.  Hope your weekends are delightful pals! 

It's the Second Week of September and I'm Already Over School...

We’re only a few weeks into school and there are some things that I’m already over.

The bus arriving at 7:30 am for starters.  Every morning is a fire drill no matter how prepared I am in advance.  I am absolutely, positively “that” mom who gets her kid onto the bus while wearing her pajamas every morning.  Pajamas and usually no bra.  And also often my husband’s shoes ‘cause there the only ones by the door.  Fortunately my kid’s “bus” is a big, white suburban that comes right to our door, so my only interaction is with the bus driver and not other parents.  (Which don’t even get me started on how thankful I am that Monster is on a bus that comes to our house and not one at a stop that he could miss every day.  Cause he would miss it.  Every.  Day.)

I miss lazy mornings where we could all wear our pj’s until like 10am.  Monster and Toots used to wake up at 7 and then come hang out in my bed for like an hour.  We eased into our mornings.  Now I’ve got to get Monster up and running by 6:45 and I’ve only managed one sip of coffee before he’s out the door at 7:30

And lunches.  I’m sick of lunches.  By Thursday nights I’m sick of peanut butter and jelly or turkey and cheese.  I’m tired of trying to find fruit that hasn’t rotted.  I’m tired of trying to find something “treat” like for his lunch because I put gummy bears in his lunch on the first day of school like an idiot and now he needs a treat every day.  Every.  Single. Day.

And the papers.  I have one pre-schooler and I’m drowning in a sea of paperwork.  How do you parents with multiple school age kids do it???  That kid brings home more things for me to read and coordinate.  And I can’t just tuck it away because I have that “out of sight, out of mind” syndrome where I immediately forget anything that isn’t right in front of my face (hence the million to do lists I operate by).  But I can’t leave it out because eventually our whole house would be covered in stacks of paper from pre-school like an episode of “Hoarders.”  I need someone to come over and deal with the papers.

And the communicating.  They need to teach a class at curriculum night entitled how to keep your spouse informed about all the school things.  By the time Tommy gets home it’s a mad race to get those kids in bed and then at 7 it’s wine time and I’ve already forgotten about all the papers and everything else I was supposed to tell him. 

Like an idiot I signed up to be a room parent and now I’m supposed to come up with some sort of “theme basket” to auction off at the fundraising gala.  The email went out yesterday requesting the room parents to reply back with their theme.  It’s been less than 24 hours and everyone else has responded to the email.  Except me.  As a matter of fact, I’d forgotten all about it until I started writing this post.  I’m going to be that room parent this year, aren’t I?  Our basket is going to be the sad-looking one with an unidentifiable theme and nothing of any value.  Crap.

Someone please send help.  Paper organization systems are acceptable.  Or “theme basket” ideas.  Or wine.  Wine is always helpful.

Happy School Year, friends.  Anyone else over it already?

On Shame and Vulnerability. Or Really Hard Things God is Teaching Me

I should have seen it coming.  I asked for it, really.  It started with “Daring Greatly” by Brene Brown.  I’ve heard such good things about this book and suggested it to book club. 

I cracked open the book, fully prepared to be zapped again and again with resonating truth punches.  I expected this book on shame and vulnerability to pierce me, shake me, astound me with self-realization after self-realization.

Instead I found myself merely nodding in agreement with the first few chapters.  It wasn’t that I didn’t find what Dr. Brown was saying to be absolutely true.  They just felt like truths my heart already knew.  I didn’t feel called to live any sort of way terribly different from how I was living.  At one point I found myself thinking, hmmm, well I guess I have this whole vulnerability and shame thing down.  I’ve graduated.  Score.

And what cometh after pride, pals?  The fall.  That’s what.

I won’t go into details but I will say that mere days after graduating myself out of vulnerability and shame school I found myself in the middle of a conversation that had me feeling so raw and exposed that I relapsed all the way back to pre-K.  I was vulnerable in the truest way and I didn’t deal with it particularly well.  I dug up decade past hurts all while feeling so naked and ashamed for having such a visceral reaction.  Maybe I didn’t have this whole vulnerability and shame thing down after all.

What happened next boils down to this: God started teaching me some frustrating things about myself.  For years and years I’d seen the story one way and suddenly God opened my whole heart wide open and showed me the other side.  For years I held on indignantly to the notion that I had been wronged and gently, gracefully God showed me I was wrong. 

I felt the shame I thought I’d long conquered.  I was supremely embarrassed and uncomfortable. 

I found myself at a crossroad.  I sensed God had work to do.  Work that would require me to have awkward conversations, voice uncomfortable truths, admit risky and vulnerable realities to myself, to God and to others.  It was the kind of stomach twisting work I typically avoid.  I could allow God to do the work, and face my insecurities, fears and vulnerability.  Or I could shut myself off, push God away and forget it all.

I had a moment with God where I imagined myself holding my heart out to him.  It was kinda mangled, broken and in obvious need of repair.  I held it in my hands and just whined “fiiiiix it!” like my kids do when their Lego creations come undone.

So we did the work, God and I, faced the fears, said the words, mended the heart. 

“I stood there saved- surprised to be loved!

God made my life complete

When I placed all the pieces before Him

…

God rewrote the text of my life

When I opened the book of my heart to his eyes”*

And here’s what I learned:  When you stay open to the uncomfortable work of God, when you remain vulnerable with him, when you give him your broken, mangled heart and tell him to “fix it,” He does.  It feels gross and embarrassing and like everyone in the world can see your whole inner dialogue displayed on your forehead.  They can’t. And the One who can is safe.

When you open up and have the hard conversations, when you allow yourself to be vulnerable and exposed in the presence of others you are strengthening the ties of your relationships, deepening the roots of your community and softening the landing spot of the next hard conversation.

And in fresh ways God reminded me of the truth I knew so well I forgot I still needed to practice it: vulnerability brings you closer.  Telling hard self-truths and receiving them in love are perhaps the most bonding acts two people can participate in.

Perhaps that fall wasn’t so bad after all.

*From 2 Samuel 22:20-25 in The Message translation. 

That One Time Where I Link You Up: Labor Day Edition!

sick little puppy

Happy Labor Day pals!  Labor Day usually means a trip to the Farm around here, but poor Toots was sick all weekend.  She and I stayed home while Monster and Tommy trekked up to Wisconsin.  The Farm is mecca to our Monster; it's a safe bet that he didn't miss us.

at the farm so he's happy...

Hey remember that one time when I loved all the good things the Internet has to offer?  Oh yeah.  Every week.  I've long wanted to do a weekly link up but it seemed sort of silly since no one was reading this blog.  But, according to my comments, there are at least 5 of you checking in from time to time now.  And so, inspired by my friend Catie’s recent link up, I think you should know about the Internet awesomeness I've discovered.  I'll likely do link ups on Fridays (for your weekend reading pleasure) but as it's a holiday I thought we'd start today.  So get the kids in bed (if you have them), put up your feet and forget that you have to go back to work tomorrow.  Enjoy a few of my favorites from the week!

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Jen Hatmaker remains one of my all time favorite writers.  This post filled my whole heart with joy.  Mamas out there- you're doing a great job.

"Whether you are a sweet mama imagining the spicy mamas have all the fun (not true...we're mostly breaking up fights), or a spicy mama assuming the sweet mamas have all the tenderness (they don't...they are mostly, um, I'm not actually sure, I've never been in a sweet family):
 

If you are worried about being a bad parent, you are probably a good one.”

Around here we’ve been talking a lot about cochlear implants.  Because I’m an extreme feelings person I can tell you all about the emotions Monster and I are going through with this transition.  I am particularly bad, however, at explaining anything technical with regards to Monster’s implant.  I recently came across this blog (viviymyfam) and these parents do a fantastic job relaying the technical stuff.  Their daughter Vivian lost her hearing at age 3 and received implants at age 5.  I particularly enjoyed this, which has a great video that shows what things sound like to people with different levels of hearing loss, and this post about Vivian's reactions when the implant was activated.  It was similar to Monster's but because she is older she could give words to everything that Monster could not.  (You may only care about this if you know my Monster and are tired of all my “feelings” post about his situation but it does help to explain more technically what Monster is going through and what things sound like for him.)

My friend Catie (the same one from above) wrote a fantastic post about how to engage your kids about their day.  I’m storing this away for when Monster is able to answer questions after school and I don’t have to guess how his day went based on the half eaten remnants of his lunch and impossible to decipher art work.

“In the morning, give them an assignment.  Things like:

‘Be on the look out for what brings you joy today.  When I pick you up, I want to hear all about the different things you've seen or learned or heard that made you feel super happy inside.’

OR

‘Find the funny, today, kiddo.  When I pick you up, report to me all the funny things that happen through out your day.’

OR

‘Today I want you to be a secret agent of kindness.  Find a few ways to be extra kind to another kid or teacher and when I pick you up, tell me about it, okay?’”

I LOVE what Laura Ortberg Turner is doing with her “Growing up Evangelical (and being so glad for it)” series!  It’s honest and as a parent who also works in a church I am taking lots of notes so Monster and Toots don’t write their own memoir one day about the horrible plight of growing up a church worker’s kid.  Check out part I, II and III (and keep an eye out for the rest of the series!).

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Enjoy these last bits of summer friends.  I am decidedly not in the “excited for fall” camp.  I mourn the end of summer with everything in my being.