Andrew works from home. We like it that way. I’ve learned to leave him alone and he’s learned to come running if he hears the right kind of screams. In general, I’m on my own during the day. Occasionally, though, I have to send him an SOS via text.
Today was one of those days. I needed to nurse Finn and he was letting me know at a rather loud volume. In the meantime, I needed to settle a dispute with the big kids. I texted Andrew as best I could with my bum hand (I’m wearing a wrist brace, which helps, but it makes me pretty dumb-fingered at the keyboard) and then worked on feeding my baby.
Whatever crisis I needed to solve got solved without me and life went on. I completely forgot about my panicked text.
Until Andrew arrived about half an hour later. “Um, did you need me for something?”
He’d been on the phone for work and couldn’t make heads or tails of my text. When he read it out loud to me, neither could I.
Y’all. I laughed so hard I cried. Andrew confessed he couldn’t figure out how the Canucks came into play but he was mighty confused as to why I felt the need to wander the downstairs and wreak havoc.
I managed to pull from my addled brain that I intended to type, “Adam and Sam have done no work because they cannot find pencils.”
“Shoot” was my frustration boiling over with my fat fingers.
Then I tried to correct auto-complete by typing that “no” I mean “work.”
And the wandering around wreaking havoc? That was the children. Not me.
And it wasn’t any wayward Canadians, either.
Mother's Day 2012
All too often I hear the words, “I don’t know how you do it.”
And I’ve told you all: the truth is, neither do I. I don’t know how any of us do it. Mothering is two parts mundane to one part super hero.
Andrew was out of town all week and came home sick. My in-laws very sweetly stayed a little longer to keep us all afloat. The kids had doctor appointments, my stupid arm slowed me down, and Ravenous Finn needed me often, as babies do. Even though I had two extra sets of hands (thank you, Gran and Pops), my head barely ceased rotating circles above my shoulders. All the while, my inner voice whispered, “I can’t. I can’t do this.”
At some point, I was rushing off to another appointment and I had a moment of self-awareness. I can. Because I am. Life is happening and I’m doing this thing. I’m mothering.
No responsible adult is going to come behind me and clean up my mistakes. Sometimes I forget I’m not the teenager waiting for life to start. Life is happening. My life is now.
My moment to mother is now.
I look at the day in front of me sometimes and it feels too weighty. Who thought I was able to handle this? I think I can’t do it. Somebody else with more patience, more energy, more creativity could do it. It’s too much for me. But I put one foot in front of the other, take one breath after another, and suddenly, I’m doing it. I’m mothering seven children. SEVEN.
Nobody is more surprised than me.
Too often in the so-called “Mommy wars,” we compare ourselves to others and say, “But I’m not doing it like her.”
Yes. But you are DOING IT. You are being The Mom to the children God created for your unique set of skills.
I guarantee it isn’t as pretty as you want it to be. But somehow, friends, we’re getting through it. We’re raising these little people. Every day is a minor miracle and a major victory. Sometimes we forget to celebrate when we manage to do a load of laundry because we know we just have to do it again tomorrow.
But stop and think: YOU DID IT TODAY.
There’s another side to this “you’re doing it” coin. The side that says: Don’t Miss It. Remember not to wish it away. Don’t count down every day, waiting for the moment you toss the last diaper, the beautiful day when everyone can dress themselves.
Don’t put your head down and plow through only to look up and realize you’ve lost the chance to connect with your kids. BE in the moment.
Too often, I spend my minutes worrying that someone else could use them better or waiting impatiently for another set of minutes to come. Some days, I need to remember to just take pride in the fact that I was a mother to my children today, no matter the crazy. Other days, I need an admonishment to Pay Attention and not let the opportunities for love and joy slip away, no matter the crazy.
And, as in all things, I do nothing but by the grace of God. He breathes life into my every step. He is the author of our days. He is the reason I have victory over laundry, tantrums, and that mysterious smell in the bathroom. He has done It that I might do all the things.
This is the day which the LORD has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
The current obsession at our house is Playmobil. More accurately, the obsession has to do with Acquiring More Stuff. Even as Andrew and I are simplifying and culling out toys, the kids are rabidly collecting pennies, coins, or bills to purchase their own Legos/Playmobil/Insert-small-item-that-hurts-my-feet-when-I-step-on-it-here.
We currently don’t have an allowance system, but we will let them do the odd job about the house and pay them for it. (See: the story of the most expensive sweet gum balls in the world.) Andrew and I ran out of ideas for jobs a few weeks ago and I guess we were hoping they’d forget. They probably would have, too, since they really don’t enjoy the sort of jobs we think up.
Sadly, somebody showed them we can order stuff online, even toys that Wal-Mart doesn’t have. Even better, We have Amazon Prime. In the time it normally takes them to convince us to drive them to the store, they could have the toy of their choice delivered to the front door. Sam got excited about the possibilities and determined he was actually willing to work for some money.
First, he approached me with an idea. He offered to clean up the laundry room (which also doubles as the girls’ closet) for just a dollar… maybe two dollars. I told him I would guarantee him one dollar and if he did a good job, I would pay more. Like a tip. BINGO. In half an hour, he’d organized the girls’ clothing bins (Ellen helped him a bit) and tidied up the floor of my ever-piled-high laundry room.
I paid him two dollars.
I think we both won.
A frenzy of closet cleaning began. Sam organized the shoe closet. Adam did the linen closet downstairs. Sam picked up my bedroom floor and vacuumed it. Sam actually offered to clean the disaster that is MY closet, but since every morning is a Postpartum Clothing Crisis right now, I’m even scared to tackle that disaster zone. I spared him the agony.
This IS an improvement. The "before" picture is horrific.
We agreed on a minimum price beforehand and then I paid more if the job was exceptional. Sam wanted to clean his own closet (shared with his brothers.) I told him I wouldn’t pay as much since he was partly responsible for that closet on a normal basis. He agreed, mostly because he only needed 75 more cents to reach his goal.
Since Monday, I have ordered no less than four tiny Playmobil sets from Amazon. Sadly, we couldn’t use our Prime benefits for any of them and the boys had to pay shipping and now must wait THREE TO FIVE VERY LONG BUSINESS DAYS before their toys arrive.
I’m not sure who is more ready to see those little boxes on the doorstep. I’ve heard about nothing else but their plans for their toys, how they will use them, which one is the bad guy, who is on what team, and why the gold sword will be far superior to the silver sword.
But I’m secretly proud of them, too. They’ve shown initiative. They didn’t quit because the job was distasteful. And they will get to reap the reward of their work.
Ian earned just enough for his toy and then quit. He'd rather read than work. I'm with him.
And maybe some day, they’ll quit robbing the washing machine of all its spare change. Everybody knows that washing machine change belongs to the person who DOES the laundry. How else can I afford my chocolate habit???
You just need a little make-a-mess-in-the-driveway therapy…
…And life becomes beautiful again.
What’s your therapy of choice when a day leaves you wild-eyed?
I have much with which to acquaint you…
1. I’m over at Simple Homeschool today explaining how I handle the myriad of choices available in a curriculum like Tapestry of Grace or Five in a Row. Hint: You gotta pretend it’s a buffet, people.
Only it’s a buffet without pudding, which is disappointing.
1.5. I am ridiculously proud to part of the Simple Living Media team and highly recommend any and all of their channels. My friend Ari recently launched the sixth channel, Simple Design, and it’s super cute. Totally out of my league, but really fun to look at. Also, Simple Kids is a great resource for ideas for the upcoming summer months. And I’ve currently got this collection of puns and jokes bookmarked for when I wish to be “fun mom.” These websites do not disappoint. Go therefore and bookmark…
2. I wish to get to know you. Hence, Vitafamiliae has a facebook page now. I’m trying to post over there when I can and you people have already come in handy when I’ve had a question like “How do I get sand out of this child’s hair????”
Also, during the early morning feedings, Finn and I have lots of prayer time. Post a prayer request on the wall and we’ve got your covered, mkay?
3. We finally bit the bullet and got a membership at the local science museum. I swallowed my fear of all the germs, armed myself with Purell, and off we went. (Gran and Pops went with me, since I am still currently one-handed.) We made it out with all seven kids still in tow and so far, no one has sprouted a tail or developed a rash, so we may even go back again!
Also, I think I’m growing as a person because this is the only picture I took all afternoon. It’s like I totally forgot I had a blog!
4. This. Just this.
So, what are your big plans for the summer months? How do you plan on entertaining your people???
p.s. Don’t forget you can buy your Tapestry or All About Spelling curriculum through the links on my site and contribute to more giveaways on the blog. And maybe a mocha for me. We all win!~
I like to think that I’m put on this earth to make all the stupid mistakes, get all the dopey ailments, and then publish them to the internet and save others from doing the same thing.
I like to think that, anyway.
Last week, I had what I thought was an asthma attack. Fluttering and pain in my chest. Headache and shoulder ache. Which is not abnormal for me. I dutifully began the breathing treatments and even went to the doctor and got a steroid to keep from getting sick. I was bound and determined not to lose my newly found healthy momentum.
On Thursday morning, I woke up feeling pain in my chest again. The daily headache was beginning in my shoulders and neck. By that afternoon, I was in significant pain and had difficulty breathing. A trip to the chiropractor revealed I’d dislocated something in my shoulder.
But the pain in my chest only got worse. Later that night, I was in tears and a little bit scared at how difficult it was to breathe. Andrew and I paid a visit to the ER. Hardly a romantic evening. The doctor seemed pretty sure I had a blood clot, so we spent a tense hour waiting on test results.
By God’s grace, the test was negative and I was sent home with lots of painkillers. The consensus was that my pain was simply muscular, related to my shoulder injury. Shoulder muscles are connected to rib muscles, blah, blah, blah.
I spent the next 24 hours packed in ice like a trout. I fell asleep with frozen blueberries on my chest and woke up covered in blueberry juice. Slowly, the pain receded and on Saturday, I felt back to normal.
Now it’s Sunday and I’m coming to realize that this isn’t going to be as quick of a recovery as I’d like. All of the muscles in my arm and chest are inflamed and grumpy. I have very limited use of my right arm. MY RIGHT ARM.
How did I get this ridiculous injury? Our best guess: nursing. That’s right, keeping my tiny little hoss of a boy fed has crippled me. I suspect it has to do with nursing with my shoulder propped up while using the laptop.
But don’t tell Andrew. He’ll take my laptop away.
So, it’s back to icing and ibuprofen round the clock. I’m only using my arm when I have to. Which is often. I am a mother, after all.
I tell you all of this so you’ll know it’s possible to sustain an injury while sitting absolutely still on your couch. Maybe you can avoid your own trip to the ER for breastfeeding-related wounds.
How dare you blame me for this?
And now I’d like to come up with a much better story for how I lost the use of my right arm. Football, maybe? Wrestling match? Toilet-plunging? Anybody got a good war wound story I can tell?
Today is Embrace the Camera day. And I tried, I did. There are at least four of my seven kids in this picture with me.
This one cracks me up. Mira wanted in on the action.
And since I’m not the only parent around here who needs to embrace the camera…
However, we are both aware that we aren’t really the cute ones around the house. So here’s the eye candy we really want to show you:
(these two adore each other. I adore them. see how nicely that works?)
You may now go on to have a beautiful day. You’re welcome.
p.s. Thanks for the pictures, Abbi.
If you can look past the tired mama eyes up there, you might be able to tell a slight difference. Or maybe not. But as we’re coming up to the eight week mark post-Finn’s arrival, I’m starting to feel like maybe I remember how to be the Me I was before I became the Human Incubator.
For one thing, I left the house without my baby in tow the other day. I had enough confidence in his routine that I knew I could leave him for two hours and he wouldn’t need me. This is a first. Even better, I got to go on an outing with my three older boys. We went on a field trip to the Apple store with our homeschool group.
Each boy got his own computer to work on some yearbook pages with pictures I took of school stuff. And then they got to play chess and other games until we left.
Adam was fairly vibrating with excitement over having his own laptop to mess with. He is ALL kinesthetic, which means he honestly can’t help himself with wanting to touch things. I am constantly smacking his hand away from items of danger just because there’s something in his little body that says TOUCH ALL THE THINGS.
I saw Adam’s independent streak come out while I tried to help him with the computer. He became the one smacking my hand away any time I tried to work the mouse without his consent. I finally left him to his devices for awhile and once the excitement had worn off, he was more willing to accept help. But I loved seeing that confidence in him, the desire to do something all on his own.
After a lovely outing with my boys, it was all the more lovely to arrive home to cuddle my baby.
I don't think you're ready for this jelly.
All last week, Andrew and I took any spare minute we could find and worked on reorganizing our house. We went through every book, sorting and throwing out. We culled through toys, narrowed them down, and designated which toys belonged upstairs and which lived downstairs.
We attacked piles of clutter and tried to bring order to a home that has been in survival mode since last summer. I even brought myself to part with the twins’ preemie clothes I’d held onto for seven years. I shed a tear or two. Not gonna lie.
All of this re-ordering has brought much more peace into our home, but it’s also helped me feel like I know where things are again. I have a handle on The Stuff. Sort of like I’m back in control (as much as one is ever in control at our house). I’m not saying we’ve got this “seven kids” thing in the bag and that I won’t be under the covers nibbling on chocolate by noon tomorrow, but I’m saying I’m up for air. I’m up to the task. I’m up for anything.
Which is good. Because with our gang… absolutely anything can happen.
On occasion, I get questions from friends and readers about adoption. I’m always happy to answer them via email, but in case you’ve wondered and never asked, I thought I’d share a few of the most popular questions and answers here.
What agency did you use? We didn’t. At the time, it was fairly easy to do without an agency in Uganda. From my understanding of the situation now, that is no longer the case.
I want to adopt but my spouse isn’t on board. Wait. Adoption is about families, not about one person. Put the matter to prayer, ask for God to change your heart or theirs. But there’s no amount of statistics, preaching, or books that will convince someone who isn’t ready.
I want to adopt but we can’t afford it.
That’s a lie.
I could tell countless stories of God’s provision for families who are brave enough to say “Yes, we’ll adopt.” I could even show you bank statements that would make adoption an actual impossibility. And I can point to their adoptive children and tell you that God is bigger than bank statements.
A few things to keep in mind: there are grants and loans galore available to adoptive families. We received an Abba Fund loan, which is interest free. Furthermore, there is still currently a tax refund for completed adoptions. It takes awhile to see this money, but it comes eventually.
You don’t have to have all the money at once. The expenses come in bits and pieces, a thousand bucks here, another two hundred there. By the time you travel you’ll need a bit more in your pocket, but this is where God often gets a chance to show off. (For proof, refer to our story.)
Strangers and friends alike want to help. Some people care for orphans by adopting, while others stand beside and support with care, money, or prayer. Don’t be afraid to do some fundraising. (P.S. Want to help other adoptive families? Do some shopping on our Home for Christmas list.)
Please hear me: I’m not saying there aren’t legitimate reasons why you can’t adopt. I’m saying money shouldn’t be one of them. And if you can’t adopt, there are so many other ways you can help children find families.
How should we prepare for our adoption?
We found a few other families who were waiting to adopt and formed a small study group. We went through the book “Created to Connect” together. Talking through the book with other families was so helpful because we had a point of reference when we all brought our children back. A simple, “I’m really having a Chapter 8 issue this week” would be enough to let my friends know I needed chocolate STAT.
(The most recent addition to our group arrived on American soil yesterday. Go here to read about it. Take tissue.)
The Created For Care conference I went to this year was great and would have been helpful before we brought Mira home. Just networking with other women on the same journey was very encouraging.
I know many people don’t have access to as many other families who are adopting in their town, but the internet can be used for good! There are facebook groups, blogs, and websites that can connect you to others who can encourage you. I spent hours conversing with people online about Uganda and adoption before we ever filled out a single form. They were able to honestly and lovingly prepare us for the road ahead.
What else do we need to know?
I’ve said it many times but it always bears repeating: Adoption hurts. We need adoption because there is sin in the world. Consequently, the “system” is flawed. It will break your heart. Just because you want to help orphans by bringing home a child doesn’t mean things will go well. In fact, because you care, more than likely, it will feel like everyone and everything is thwarting you.
You will be refined and stretched beyond comfort. There’s no epidural that will get you through the ache of waiting for your child.
The first year after you come home is way harder than you ever imagined. But it isn’t anybody’s fault. It’s simply the by-product of building trust, relationship, and family where there wasn’t any.
Love and hold your children twice as much as you want to. They need it in quadruple.
And then, one day, I promise, you blink and the clouds shift. You don’t feel like an adoptive family any more, you just feel like somebody’s mom, somebody’s dad. All the forms, the plane tickets, the discussions with the embassy, the signatures required… they fade away and all that’s left is family.
And isn’t that the whole point?
