Some Days, I Suck As a Parent

Some days, I really suck as a parent.  I mean, I really suck as a parent.

I lose my temper.

I have adult-sized expectations of my toddlers.

I repeat myself because I am angry, and it fuels my anger to say the same thing over and over and over.

I don't want to  hear one more whiney voice tell me why they want apple juice instead of water.

I don't want it to be bath time or bed time or story time or time to brush your teeth or any other "times" other than "Can Mama just please have a hot bath and glass of wine time?"

I confess it.  Some days, I want parenting to be easy.

I don't want to have to hold my breath as I open the take home folder to see if my special needs child hit the teacher or scratched a friend or had a meltdown because someone accidentally got blueberries on their favorite shirt.

I don't want to have to think about atrocities like child abuse and neglect and a lifetime of mental rewiring that will be in our future.

I don't want to argue with Social Security about why our children need new identities or explain to the hospital where MY CHILDREN were born as to why I need their medical records and why I have the right to have them.

But most days aren't those days.  Most days are filled with barbies and cars and mud and flowers and chasing mosquito hawks through thick grass.

Most days are tiny little feet running into my bedroom and crawling into bed for a few stolen moments of snuggling before the day beckons.

Most days are reminders that God's healing power is at work and that our lives together are not a bleak future but a blessing.

All that to say, most days, most days are good days.

People Are Complicated

God created human beings to live in community; with Him, and with others.

And I don't know about you, but sometimes, that plan is a difficult one.  It has been my experience that sometimes people disappoint you.

Sometimes they don't live up to your expectations.

They aren't sensitive to your pain nor do they offer you a shoulder when you need one.

Sometimes they are in a hurry when you need their time.

And they minimize your trials or worse yet, make you feel small because your trials aren't as significant as theirs.

It has been my experience that people hurt you, use you, betray you, doubt you, lie to you, dislike you, unfriend you, and even talk about you behind your back.

They say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, think the wrong thing.

They don't fulfill your emotional needs, or your physical needs, or your spiritual needs.

But here's the greatest lesson I've learned.  They aren't supposed to.

Most of the time, when I am disappointed by others, it is because I have expected them to be perfect; to live up to and exceed my expectations.  I have expected them to fill some place that isn't theirs to fill.  I need Jesus, but I look for fulfillment and completion and approval from people.

All that to say, God's Word says, "And my God will supply all of your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus." People are complicated.  God's Word isn't.  Love People.  Live in His Word.

Always Kiss Me Goodnight

When we brought the girls to this house over two years ago (TWO YEARS AGO!), I wanted their room to look like it was "their" room and not an eclectic garage sale version of the room they'd had before when we were fostering them.

Even though we were very grateful for all the furnishings that people had loaned us in the early days, we wanted their room to say, "You belong here.  You are ours."


But I didn't have a lot of money to spend on decorating, and I'm pretty thrifty, so I shopped at a local online resale site and bought matching, white, Jenny Lind cribs.  Then I finished them in high princess fashion, complete with tulle crib skirts and matching, handmade crib blankets.

We were given a really cute little blue rocker (courtesy of a sweet friend, Shauna Maness) as well as an adorable bookshelf that Zack insisted we paint lavender.  And then rounded out the room with a garage sale dresser ($5!) that Zack refinished, and a sweet little lamp and nightstand that I paid $7 for at a garage sale and refinished.

Perhaps the greatest amount of my budget dollars were spent on three pieces of wall art from Pottery Barn and an adorable little sign that says, "Always Kiss Me Goodnight."

I was so proud of that sign.  I attached a piece of pink grosgrain ribbon to the back of it, and hung it from a pink crystal drawer pull that I screwed into the wall between their cribs.

Last night while I was rocking them to sleep, (yes, I still do this . . . they need the skin to skin contact, and it helps them sleep better) I looked at that sign and I was overwhelmed, to the point of tears, at just how far they have come.

Two years ago, when meltdowns were a daily part of our lives, they would stand in their cribs and reach up to that cute little pink sign, barely able to reach the edge of it, and they would push it as hard as they could, causing the sign to swing wildly from that pink knob.  I hated that sign in those days.

But I left it hanging there because it was my reminder that no matter how bad their meltdowns were (and they were very, very bad)  I needed to kiss them goodnight.  It was my reminder that they needed me to kiss them goodnight.  They needed my unconditional love and acceptance, no matter how horribly bad their meltdowns had been or would be.

And every night when I would sing made up lullabies to them, and rock them to sleep, I looked at that sign and begged God to heal their little hearts and minds.

And now, when I look at that sign, I am grateful for the healing work He has done and continues to do.

All that to say, I imagine that sign will always hang somewhere in their room.  It's a great reminder of God's faithfulness to us, to them.

All That to Say: Enduring Treasures

When I say the word "friend" I wonder what comes to your mind.  According to facebook, I have over 700 friends, but of course we know that's not true.  No one has 700 friends.  Some of those "friends" are people I don't actually even know.  That's true, and a little bit scary.

Many of these "friends" are acquaintances.  People I sort of know, or with whom I have some mutual interest, like church or work or a social group, etc.

I think you can have different kinds of friends.  I've blogged about that many times. 

You can have casual friends.  People you really do consider a friend, but with whom you only hang out casually.  No real depth there, but still someone you'd call "friend."

You can have mutual interest friends.  People maybe that you work with or run with or go to church with, but you have no real contact outside of these places.  It doesn't mean you don't care about these people, it's just that you don't connect beyond this mutual interest.

You can even have virtual friends.  I have actually developed some great friendships with people that started as virtual friends.

But the most life giving of all friendships are enduring ones.  Enduring friendships are the kind that go deep enough to pierce the protective barrier of trust.  They are the people that you let "in." 

These enduring friendships live out the test of time and distance and circumstance.  They outlast disagreements and hurt feelings.  They are patient.  They keep no record of wrong.  They are forgiving.  They are honest.  They speak truth into your life.  They challenge you and call you to be the very best you that you can be.

Of course, there is a risk in these friendships.  Sometimes these friends hurt you deeply, because they get close enough to your heart to be able to hurt you.  And sometimes they turn out not to be friends at all.  But you're never going to find true enduring friends without this risk.

I count myself lucky to have a few of these friends.  Friends who wade into my junk, dive deep into my heart, aren't afraid to tell me what I need to hear, and love me despite my idiosyncrasies, my scars, and flaws.

All that to say, friendships are a gift.  They are to be treasured.  I treasure each of you, my enduring friends.