failing as a mother

"i feel like i have failed as a mother." these were the words i cried to my husband one night this week. after the battle was over. after the kids were asleep. after all the hurtful words. after the dust had settled. "i must have done something wrong. it's not supposed to be this way." i was grasping for something, anything to help me understand why parenting is sometimes so, so very hard.

earlier that night, my ten year old had run away from home for the first time. there had been a battle over everything that afternoon...homework, chores, being kind to his siblings. everything was work. i would love to say that i had the time or the patience to pause and get to the core reasons for his behavior but with five kids needing attention at once, the best i could do was to remind him to "think before you speak" and "examine your response." as i was preparing dinner, i asked him to help his younger brother empty the dishwasher while i cooked the meal. he looked at me and his hands formed into fists and said the devastating words, "i hate my life! why do you always do this to me?"

as i was stirring the pot of what would eventually be our dinner, i reminded myself to keep breathing. i picked my heart up off the floor and turned to stare at this stranger otherwise known as my ten year old. my other children were staring at the train wreck that was our dysfunctional kitchen interaction. somehow, by the grace of God, i held myself together and offered my son an out. "you are welcome to go look for another family that you think would treat you better but if you are a part of this family, you will do your chores." 

he slammed his fist into his sides and with an angry turn and a "fine, i will," he was out the front door. he was gone for two hours...and i died a little bit with each minute he was gone.

what in the world had happened? this is my first born son. 

born while we were living in South America, he and i were an isolated duo. 

there were no grandparents nearby. there was no vonage or skype. there were no friends with other children his age. it was him and me. we danced the crazy mother-son dance all on our own, without advice, without help, completely on our own...and that was just fine.

we would sing ourselves to sleep in the hammock.

we would splash in the Caribbean.

we would cover the walls with our artwork.

we would find joy in the simplest of pleasures.

we were a team and he was my joy, my first born.

my days were filled with him.

he had the very best i had to offer, uninterrupted, unshared, completely devoted.

when he needed more interaction, he got it. he got me (and my husband when he was home) 100%. he had it made.

somewhere, that baby, that precious boy who filled my days, disappeared and the tween i look at each day has morphed into someone else. he's hard to recognize.

i used to buy into the notion that, if you do the work when your children are really little, it will get easier and easier as the years go by. there are parts of that idea that ring true. there are other parts that are delusional. i have come to understand that parenting is work, no matter the age, no matter the child. there will always be another area of their character that can be refined. there will always be lessons to learn. there will always be a heart that can be molded, 

to be more kind, 

more compassionate, 

more patient, 

more grateful, 

more loving. 

those are lessons that don't end when a child is grown. those are lessons that we will keep teaching as parents long after our children leave the house. those are lessons my own parents are still teaching me.

still, in this instance, with tears in my eyes, i looked at my husband and asked, "what have i done wrong? how can someone i love so much be so intentionally hurtful? surely, it is not supposed to be this way. it is not supposed to be so hard."

my husband's response was simple and somehow cut through the weight of what i had felt that day. "he's not done. we're not done. it is like looking at a painting that is only half finished and being critical. the idea of that would be ridiculous. you can't judge a painting until it is complete. our son isn't finished yet. when he becomes an adult, when we see the man he will become, then we can look back at all the parts of his life that made up the light and the shadows and see each piece for what it was." my sweet man did everything in his power to remind me that i'm a good mother. 

slowly, i started to believe it again myself. i'm not perfect. i'm full of flaws. i have to pray for grace and patience everyday, but i'm a good mother. as i hold my one year old son and look over at his ten year old brother, i marvel at how much nine years has changed things. my heart breaks a little bit at how fast the time has gone and at how, with each outburst, with each stance of his will, my first born pulls farther and farther toward his independence. i want to hold back the clock and bring back the sweetness that once was. still, as i watch him become the adolescent he will be and see him change before my eyes i'm reminded that everything i have done for him has been a piece to his puzzle, a brush stroke on the painting that is his life. even on my worst days, when it feels like my heart may not recover, i can remember that, by God's grace, i am a good mother...and i'm parenting an unfinished masterpiece.

spontaneous combustion

if i hear one more mother of grown kids tell me how much i will look back on these days with small children and miss it, i think i will explode. i get it, you miss those sweet moments when your babies were little. i know, they are all grown up now. i know you look back on your days with small children and smile. let me just possibly offer that your hindsight is less than realistic. i'm sure one day i'll look back and remember only the sweetness of my kids when they were small. right now however, let me just give you a peek into my last 12 hours and see if you can recall some of the not-so-pleasant memories.


i got my infant son to bed at about 10:00 last night...he's still a night owl. i finished cleaning up the kitchen from the "movie night" popcorn, switched over the laundry, folded a load of laundry and then went upstairs to pump breast milk for my son, knowing we'll be out and about with all five kids the next day and i won't have time to sit and nurse. i then put the milk away, switched over the laundry again, folded another load of clothes and got upstairs at midnight to discover one of my sons had woken up because he wet the bed, and soaked it through to the mattress pad. after stripping the bedding, putting down some new blankets for him to sleep on and getting him back to sleep, i got in bed pretty close to 1:00. i woke up when he came back into our room in the early morning because he had wet the bed...again. this time it went onto the mattress. at this point he woke up his roommate, my other son, and any chance of more rest is out the window.


i stripped off all the bedding, got his clothes changed, and spent the first part of my early morning cleaning a mattress. after that, i again switched over a load of laundry, folded one, got the kids their breakfast and went upstairs to pump...again. after pumping, i cleaned up breakfast and spent the next bit of forever cleaning up a cup of spilled apple juice that landed on my kitchen floor. after mopping the floor about 20 times, i switched over the laundry (lots of bedding to wash), got the kids dressed and then got to deal with my five year old picking on the two-year-old (who also has a broken elbow right now) and making him scream and the eight year old who, when asked to help me pick up, said, "why do you always treat me like i'm the maid."


i'm still unshowered, wearing an over-sized nascar t-shirt, haven't had breakfast and it's almost 10:00.


twelve hours of awesomeness. yep...i surely hope i don't remember days like this when my kids are grown.


so, if you have grown kids and you're tempted to say those words...stop and try to remember your worst days. then do one of the following:


1) offer free babysitting. tell the mom you want to come over and watch her kids so she can go somewhere and get a cup of coffee by herself. offer to come early so she can take a shower first. if you're out of practice, bring one of your older kids. when you leave, ask them how many kids they want and how soon they want them. you're welcome.


2) bring over a meal. sometimes after a day like today, thinking about what i'll cook for dinner is the straw that breaks the camel's back.


3) if you go to church, offer to work in the children's church or nursery. i always see moms working back in the childcare section of a church. seriously...sundays are some of our only days to dress up and look nice. they are also some of our only chances to mingle with other adults or listen to an intelligent sermon. give us a chance to enjoy it.


4) bring over some cookies or a special treat for the kids. sometimes the smallest gesture can brighten someone's day.


5) i you have the means, shower a mom with a anonymous gift card or small gift. five dollars to spent at starbucks, a manicure or pedicure, a movie ticket, a new pretty coffee cup, a pretty lip gloss, small things can make a huge difference in brightening someone's rough day.

okay, here's to hoping the rest of this rainy day improves...and that one day i'll be able to look back on all of this and miss it.

friday fun finds: mother's day ideas

mother's day is only a couple of days away. here are some of our favorite treats to make or buy for the mommy in your life (or to forward to your hubby, if you like). we hope you all have a wonderful mother's day surrounded with love and support. xoxo- chach & nellie

printable: "well, a mother, a real mother is the most wonderful person in the world. she's the angel voice that bids you good night, kisses you cheek, whispers "sleep tight"--wendy darling

girl's emergency clutch diy from eighteen 25

mother's day questionnaire 

blooming flower pot cake

special dates print (kids birthdays?)

mother's day handprint corsage diy from little bit funky

free candy bar wrapper printable from lovely little snippets 

mother's day free printables from kiki and company

diy silhouette chalkboard from ruffles and stuff

diy lemon sugar hand scrub from under the table and dreaming

mother's day newspaper (free printable) from martha stewart

mother's day card diy from our daily obsessions

out to lunch... in more ways than one

my family has come out to visit me for two summers in a row. i love having my family on my turf for a while. before the first of those summer visits, however, my mother started "weight watchers" online. she was on her way to losing somewhere around 30 pounds which is phenomenal. i was thoroughly impressed with her achievement...and at the same time instantly tired of the points of it all. i'd hear, "i need to get on the computer to enter my points for today," right as i was getting ready to shoot someone an email. "i shouldn't have eaten that. now i'm over the points for today," after i'd made a big dinner for the whole family. and my personal favorite, "do you know how many points are in that?" usually occurred right as i was getting ready to shove something in my mouth. fabulous.

this summer's visit was less painful. the weight loss was done and the "maintaining" had begun. still, on a rare moment of mommy bliss, we were able to go out to lunch without four kids, without a time to return. for a mommy of four, there isn't anything much better. now, i have a philosophy when i go out to eat. i rarely get to go to a grown up restaurant that doesn't involve some sort of playground or food wrapped in paper. when i do get to experience that luxury, i'm going to enjoy it. i only order something i can't make at home (or won't because of the time it would take), i'm not going to worry about the calories, and i'm going to eat every bite. that's just the way i roll.

when my mother ordered a dry turkey sandwich on wheat bread without cheese and a bowl of fruit, i looked at her like she was growing another head. "you're going to pay $10.00 for that?" hadn't that pretty much been our standard lunch at home for the past week? i just don't get it. while i was on my way chomping through a huge chicken sandwich...with pepper jack cheese, jalapenos and a chipotle mayonnaise, she looks at me with half of her sandwich gone and asks if i'd like the other half. she couldn't possibly eat another bite. seriously? "you can't eat another bite because it tastes like you're eating cardboard!" just because i ordered a meal that actually looks appetizing, doesn't mean that i'm some sort of glutton that needs a meal and a half to feel full. even if i had still been hungry, i would have gone to order some decadent dessert instead of eating her unappetizing leftovers.

we left the restaurant shortly after. we were both $10.00 poorer. my plate was pretty much empty. hers still held the leftover half of a dry sandwich. maybe that's what it takes for a smaller pant size. maybe it's worth it. still, i think i'll take bigger pants over a 1/2 of a $10 dry turkey sandwich any day.