Stupid ankles, stupid valleys

I sprained my ankle a month or so ago. I was at the park with the kids, and was on a swing and went to stop the swing with my feet, but I didn’t have them down properly, and my left foot went sideways and bent in an unnatural way, and I felt a crack. And I knew it was bad. It hurt so much and I was scared I had broken it. I thought I was going to faint and be sick, but I managed to get us home in the car, and gradually it got better. But every now and then I’ll bend on it in the wrong way, and I’ll just feel intense pressure on the weak joint. It feels like it could break, or pop, or go very badly and I’d be worse off than I was before.

That’s how I feel, inside, so much right now. Not completely ok. And every now and then the pressure on me gets nearly more than I can bear and I’m afraid somethings going to give and all the kings horses and all the kings men won’t be able to put me back together. So much easier to never be broken in the first place, wouldn’t you agree?

I feel, bereft of words. I can’t quite figure out if this is just how everyone is feeling right now. The world feels so uncomfortable, like a pair of jeans that you always had to suck in for, but suddenly they’ve shrunk in the wash and they are no longer just uncomfortably tight, but cutting your body in two so you feel like you are doing damage to your organs when you sit down.

I’m not ok. But what does that even mean? Once you’re not ok, the world doesn’t magically just rush towards you and offer you cups of tea and fluffy pillows. There are still dishes to do, and meals to make, and bills to pay and a family that needs you, needs every last drop of you being poured out until you’re a big old jug of empty, and good grief woman just get a hold of yourself already. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Don’t you know how much you have to be grateful for? 

The problem is, you do. But you just end up feeling more rubbish for not being sufficiently grateful. Man we humans are a stupid bunch aren’t we? I’m just tying a knot and holding on. Hills and valleys. And I’m not alone. He has never left me, nor forsaken me. But I sure wish these valleys weren’t so damn deep.

It’s just hard

Tonight after dinner we got a call from Shane’s Dad about a predicted meteor that was supposed to be visible at 7:58pm. So we ended up having an impromptu astronomy lesson. (Not really, we just went out and lay on the trampoline and looked at the stars for a while, but it sounds good.) We never did see a meteor, there was some cloud cover that started coming over and we think that must’ve made us miss it. But it was nice.

I am trying so very hard at the moment to see the good in this situation. There are so many beautiful moments in amongst it, and I am so grateful that we are safe, and healthy. But the truth is, I’m still struggling. I know my kids are having a hard time. Georgie is a bit moody and emotional and anxious. She’s sleeping badly, and has been waking up a few times a night since February. I thought at first it was school, but now I think it’s just how she deals with things. Plus I think she’s just gotten in the habit of waking up. I feel for her, and worry about her so much, but mostly I just wish it didn’t happen. It’s very tiring. Charlie is such a social creature, and I know he’s really missing physical time with other little boys. He has been so incredibly cuddly lately, and he’s also finding the motivation to do school work tough. Ted isn’t too bad. But he’s very three, and that is tricky in the midst of all this.

Part of me is so grateful that I can do what I’m doing. My work is suffering, I’m doing what I can, and Shane’s picking up the slack, but we are managing, and an income is still coming in. I know so many don’t have this luxury of being safe at home with their families like this. But part of me is just so jealous of the people whose lives don’t seem to have changed... their kids can still go to school and play with their friends, and they can go to work and talk to grown ups.

I keep feeling like I’m back in time, at home all day every day with two small kids, (except now it’s three!) going slightly twisty because this time I don’t even have the luxury of nap time or early bedtimes or park dates and playgroups with other mums or church. All of which helped keep me together when my kids were small. My big kids are wonderful, but the barrage of questions and requests is relentless and consuming. It’s not their fault. This is hard for them too. They are  navigating school from home which is a big challenge. Lord knows I’m so grateful that they’re as young as they are and I’m not tearing my hair out trying to understand their school work with them. We can do this, and we are. But oh, I remember why I used to stay up so late when they were tiny, just to have a few blessed hours where nobody needed anything from me.

This is temporary I know. I have so much to be grateful for, I know. But still, this is hard. It’s just hard.

Unexpected events... and gratitude

What a day! It’s been a strange one. I was supposed to go up to the church with Shane this afternoon for an hour or so to sing a couple of songs so that he could record them for our church online services, since he had everything set up to film there today already. To be honest, I wasn’t 100% sure about it... I wanted to, but at times it’s not very comfortable putting yourself out there like that.

So I was set to go at about 3:30pm in the afternoon, and Mum was going to come up and mind the kids. We’ve kind of relaxed our distancing this week a bit. We’re still being careful, but the government guidelines recommend having two guests at a time, so that means that we have seen Mum and Dad and my sister Cathy a tiny bit this week, which has been so lovely. Anyway, so at around 2 this afternoon, our dog Chloe was tapping at the back door and I figured she was hoping to get fed early. So I went to the back door, and when I looked at her, her left eye was really badly swollen. I was thinking it might have been a bee or something, but I wasn’t quite sure and it just looked really bad, so I rang the vet to see if I could bring her down. I called Mum and she came over a bit early, and I took her to the vet, where it turned out, she had maybe been bitten by a spider. So she’s got some medication, and we’re keeping an eye on her.

Then, when I got home, I got Mum to have a quick look at a mosquito bite that Ted has, which was looking red, and it was looking worse, so I rang the doctor to see if I could get him in. I managed to take him straight down, and he has cellulitis, so we had to get some antibiotics for him. By this point I think Shane was thinking about saying not to worry about doing music after all, because he’d had a big day at work, and had a headache. But he had all the recording stuff set up (which takes a bit of doing) so, we decided to keep going, and I left the kids and the wounded at home and went down to church to do a couple of songs.

It was tough, let me tell you! Nothing like hearing yourself and watching yourself to make you self-conscious about every single one of your flaws. But I think, because it was so hard and so complicated and full of roadblocks just to film a couple of simple worship songs, and despite all my feelings of unworthiness. I know that it is important. Sometimes what we see with our human eyes, has nothing to do with what God is doing. So I am doing my best to just trust Him with this, to just get  my anxious thoughts out of the way as much as I can. And to be grateful for how many things did turn out right. For medication. For appointments when they were needed. For Mum who stepped into the breech for us, and my sister who popped up to lend a hand too. I am richly and abundantly blessed.

5 weeks

So Easter is all over. It was a strange one. In our town Easter is a big deal and there is a parade and markets and various events over the weekend. I’ve grown up with this tradition my whole life, and only missed a handful of Easter weekends here, so it was very strange to be here, but stay home. It was a pretty good weekend though. Sunday in particular was nice, But I really missed church. We finished the weekend tonight with pizza and a movie, and Shane is sitting on the couch with the kids finishing the movie while I’ve slipped away to have a bit of alone time.

The constant closeness is a bit tough. Ted especially has been a bit out of sorts with his normal routine gone, and he has been having lots of trouble getting to sleep a night. He’s also been super attached to me, which is nice, but tough.

The government in our state has just announced that all kids will stay home from school and learn at home for the next five weeks. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that to be honest. Apprehensive. I’m not sure what it’s going to look like, and I worry that if we get too much that has to be done from the school, it will just be like beating my head against a brick wall. I think I’m going to have to work on developing really good structure to our days. But all we can do is our best.

We are supposed to be moving house in a month. I’m really hoping it all still goes ahead, as we need a bigger space badly. But there’s lots of hurdles to overcome there too. There’s just so much to stress about. Let alone worrying about the actual coronavirus. Australia seems to be handling it well right now, our area is still yet to have a single case, but I worry about what it looks like when it does come here. Who could be affected of the people I love and care about. How we will manage when it is actually spreading here. How our health services will cope... just so many worries.

I’m trying hard to trust God with all these unknowns. But I know that He’s good. He loves us. I think about how Jesus must’ve felt before he gave himself up to be crucified. He didn’t quite know how it would play out, and he knew there was pain and difficulty ahead. But he did it because he loves us. And because he trusted the Father. I need to trust Him too. I think every difficult moment in the next five weeks I will have to make a conscious choice to trust.

Tired thoughts

Three year olds huh? They’re the perfect mix of so-cute-you-wanna-gobble-them-up, and so-hard-you-wanna-run-away. I love my Ted. I really do. But he is not easy to have around lately. It’s so tough trying to do anything that is structured with the big kids, because he just blunders in like a toddler-shaped Godzilla and renders everything impossible. In his defence, he’s been a bit unwell. But man, is he ever pushing my buttons lately!

Honestly, I’m trying so hard to be grateful that I can work from home, and look after the kids and we haven’t lost jobs and stuff..... but I had just come out the other side of stay at home motherhood. And I was glad. I am a nicer and better Mum when I work. Not full time. I had been doing four days a week this past term, and that was a bit much. But three days is perfect. It gives me a bit of breathing room, and honestly, I think I appreciate the time I spend with my kids more. Mentally, I am much better when I’m working. But yet...... here we are. I’m trying to make my peace with it, and make the best of it. But man, the three year old sure doesn’t help matters.

Last night we had a ‘sleepover’ in the lounge room. We had homemade pizza and watched a movie and set up the mattresses on the floor. It went pretty well, but the kids had a super late night, and as a result we’ve all been a bit grumpy today. It’s probably been one of the toughest days so far. I think we’re all a bit sick of each other, and missing ‘normal.’

I know personally, I kind of went downhill after I went up to the kids school and picked up their term two work. I think the realisation just hit me.... that they won’t be going to school again after these holidays, and that things are going to look very very different for a long time. Not just a few weeks. I think I’m so anxious too, because you read about how awful things are in other places, and here where we are in rural Australia it hasn’t even hit yet. We don’t even have any confirmed cases in our region. Which is good, but it’s also scary to think about what’s to come.

Anyway, I’m not quite sure where I’m going tonight, I think I’m just really tired too, and probably things will all seem easier after a good nights sleep. Here’s hoping we all get one!

Adjusting

It’s been three days home now. Not a long stretch by any standards. And yet, it’s feel different. I think because we’ve literally been at home for three days. It’s funny, I’ve always thought we weren’t crazy social, but I think when you cut out everything, you really do notice how much you do.

We’re going along ok for the most part. Ted had a bit of a tummy bug on Thursday night and Friday. He’s pretty good now, but still a tiny but off colour. Its funny, even though I’m sure he just picked up a tummy bug at daycare because there is one going around, on Friday morning I still was panicking slightly about the corona virus. It probably didn’t help that I’d had a sleepless night and wasn’t thinking clearly. But it’s amazing how the fear and paranoia can get a hold of you. It’s very tough not to let your mind run away with you, even though you’re sure it’s just regular everyday illness. I was really grateful when he improved, anyway!

The weekend was very slow. Far too many screens watched. But I’m not too worried. I figure we will reign it in this week, but I’m in no rush to start homeschooling either. The kids have just had a full term, so I figure they need a little bit of a rest before anything too serious starts anyway. I’m planning on just taking it slowly this week. We are going to do some crafty activities, and Georgie has grand plans to do some baking. I though we might do a sleepover in the lounge room one night, and try to do a few fun things. But I think I will work hard on trying to develop routine and structure this week, especially because we won’t be going anywhere to break the days up.

Today we had church online, which was ok... but oh I must admit I’m missing proper church so much. I think it just really sets my head right every week, and I think I’m going to appreciate it a lot more when it’s back! Especially corporate worship. But I am supposed to be meeting online with my discipleship girls tomorrow, so I hope that goes ahead. It will really help. Anyway, that’s enough for now. I’m planning on getting the kids to start writing daily journal entries too, so that will be good for them. Interesting to see what they will write!

The COVID-19 Diaries

So, the whole world is basically in quarantine at the moment, due to the pandemic that is sweeping the globe (as they say). And I’ve been toying with the idea of resurrecting my blog as a journal of sorts while I’m home with the kids. I’m not 100% sure what this is going to look like. I don’t know if I’ll stick with it, and I’m not even sure if I’ll mention to anyone that I’m back here. But it just felt like a thing to do.

So I’m going with it. Where we live in Australia, the schools have just all stopped early for Easter break, and I think most of us are settling in now for a long while. Part of me is relieved because it’s easier than sending kids to school and being unsure if that’s the right thing to do. And it’s nice to know we are as safe as we can be. Part of me is hopeful that this will be a lovely time of family bonding. But most of me is freaking out at the idea of all of us being stuck under one roof for God knows how long.

You see, for me, when parenting, my secret weapon has always been to get out. If kids are fighting, or things are tough, I’ve always been inclined to go to the pool, or the park, to the library, or playgroup, or to Grandma’s house, or for a walk, or heck, just a drive in the car. I’ve always found a change of scenery a good way to cope with difficult times with my kids. And now.... here we are.

But I keep reminding myself that everything really is ok. We are safe, and healthy (aside from Ted who spent this evening vomiting- what a way to start quarantine!). But things are really pretty good. We have food, we have each other, the weather is beautiful, we have a massive yard, we haven’t lost our jobs, and we will be fine. Learning to trust God daily right now! But anyway. Here we are. Corona virus quarantine starts tomorrow. Let’s do it.

Just a silly little poem by a Mum.

Not perfect. Never was.

But I love them.

I hope they remember waking up with an extra blanket on when it’s cold.

I hope they remember going to bed with full bellies, even if we weren’t the perfect family eating at the table all the time.

I hope they remember the music. The dancing. The worshipping god and praising in the storms.

I hope they remember that we worked hard, and did our best, and I hope they remember the ‘sorry’ when we failed.

I hope they remember the laughter and the silliness, and that they can learn to understand and forgive the stress and anger.

I hope they learned that people make mistakes, and get angry, but that it doesn’t mean that they’re ‘bad’ or ‘failures’ just forgiven sinners who will try again tomorrow.

I hope they remember the people. Their people. And they continue to build lifelong relationships that provide fellowship and encouragement.

I hope that they can always come home and feel the cares of the world lift off their shoulders for a tiny bit.

I hope they keep talking (even when I wish they’d be quiet!)

I hope they love, and know that they are and always will be loved. Richly and abundantly.

I hope that even when it’s tough, that they can learn to trust and hope in something greater than themselves.

I know they will be ok.

By Robyn Sellars 

On trusting.

My family is in a season of stress right now. I don't even quite know why. Shane and I are both studying, and I'm working a bit now, his job is incredibly stressful, Ted is teething, and the big kids are at the end of a school term.... but it feels like there is so much more going on. Something unseen, bubbling under the surface, and I feel powerless against it, as it attacks us.

And I don't know what to do. I literally don't. I am trusting God with all of me, because I know that He is stronger, and more powerful than anything that can come against us. And so I bake muffins, because the only thing I know how to do is feed my family. I bake muffins, and I pray. I cry, and I scream, and I trust God, because He alone is my stronghold and my shield. I cook dinner during the middle of the day so the world doesn't implode in the afternoon. I dread school pick up because there are so many emotions, and I try desperately to be the the rock in the storm, and cling to the Rock in this storm. I pray. And I make the beds, and I try to make sure everyone has clean clothes. And I know that He who began good work will carry it on to completion. I try to calm my seething rage that is present under the surface, and I try to forgive. I am the meat in the sandwich. I apologise when I fail, over and over again,  and force myself to believe that I am saved by grace, not by works. I trust that God has plans to prosper me, not to harm me, and I choose to believe that this season will end, and that God can accomplish the impossible, and one day we will look back and go; yes, that was a really tough time.

Bleak

Hi there. It's been a while I know. Every now and then I thought about opening up my blogger app and tapping out a post... and then I just didn't. Honestly? I'm just so tired and sad that I don't even know what I could say. 

The truth is that I just don't do well after babies. The first six months everything is fine and dandy, and then after that I just watch myself.. slip.

I believe that things can get better. I believe that God loves me. That who he is makes who I am enough. But I don't feel it right now. I think of my future. And my life, and everything I am responsible for and to. And I just feel weary and exhausted. It would be so very nice to go to sleep for a very, very long time.

But I am here. Still trying. Still trusting. And I know that God is greater than my struggles. I just have to keep going. 

In praise of a mother

I am tired at the moment. There is so much on the go lately, and all I want to do is stop. Just stop for a few days, and take a moment, you know? I never knew. I never had any idea of just how weighty the responsibilities, and duties, and tasks and chores that fell on a Mothers shoulders were. I never really understood the weariness that it can bring. I know I have years (and years and years!) left ahead of me. I am just at the beginning of my long journey. But it is making me realise how all-encompassing and self-sacrificing a Mothers love is, and it is making me realise just how much, day in and day out, my Mother was Jesus to me.

So thank you Mum. Thank you for waking up, every single morning and making sure I had enough to eat before I went into the world. Thank you for waking me, dressing me, and staying up late at night ironing my clothes so I would look nice, even though all you wanted was your bed. Thank you for washing and folding clothes. Thank you for packing my lunch boxes, and doing the groceries, every single week of my childhood, so that I always had nutrious food to eat, and never, ever went hungry.

Thank you for driving me to school, and making me walk up the street to school when I get older. Thank you for expecting high achievement from me. Your high expectations were the reason I succeeded and continue to have high expectations of myself, and thank you for being a safe place to land when I fell short. Thank you for picking me up, and being home in the afternoon, with afternoon tea and a 'how was your day?' even though I often didn't bother to ask how your day was, and the response you got at times was grumpy, and rude, and sometimes even accusatory. Thank you for pikelets on rainy days. Thank you for helping me with my homework, and assignments, and caring not only about my social relationships, but also caring about my friends. Thank you for giving so freely of yourself.

Thank you for cooking dinner, every single night, especially when sometimes you would have been happy with eggs on toast, and often noses would turn up at the meals you prepared. Thank you for cleaning, and making beds, and washing dishes. Thank you for all the floors vacuumed and mopped and the toilets scrubbed. Thank you for making your house a home that was and still is a comfort to be in. Thank you for ballet lessons, and netball, and piano lessons, and Christmas presents and ice cream cakes at birthdays. 

Thank you for going to work and staying at home. Thank you for going without, and thank you for all the things you spent hard-earned dollars on, so that I could have. Thank you for praying for me, and trusting God with me.Thank you for the sleepless nights spent in prayer. Thank you for your constant support, and encouragement, and belief, and hope, and faith. Thank you for saying sorry when you lost your temper. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for loving Dad, and showing me how to be a wife. Thank you for continuing on, despite the lack of appreciation you received. Thank you for sacrificing, and putting your time, effort, and energy into those things that the world does not see, and does not value, but are priceless beyond measure. Thank you for a thousand other things that I have forgotten. Thank you for showing me how it's done.

6, 5 and 3 months

6 years. 

                                                                           

 

Oh how I love 6 years! 6 years is helpful, and tries so hard. 6 years is incredibly beautiful, and developing a nice little attitude that needs adjusting every now and then. 6 years is starting grade 1, and I am praying madly that grade 1 is exceptionally great for her, with so much learning being stuffed into her brain, as well as friendships growing and developing, and Oh Lord just let other people get to know how wonderful she is too! 6 years is her younger brothers best friend and worst enemy. She can be the kindest person in the world to him, who is always on his team, and she can also be the bossiest pain in the butt who teases him and delights in his shortcomings. 6 years very much enjoys being the 'good' one. Working on that. 6 years adores her baby brother, is such a little mother, and is so good at entertaining him, but she can still be a bit rough and she does not cope with crying babies. 6 years can be quite rude, and needs to learn self-regulation, but she loves her Father and I so much, and she is loved. 6 years is a spunky short haircut, and all of the pretty dresses and shoes, and accessories, and a beautiful, strong, independent, darling.

5 years.

                                                                      

   

5 years is currently asleep next to me. He still has trouble with big night time fears and creeps into bed beside me at night, but is (almost) fearless during the day. 5 years worries me at times because he is so strong and physical, and passionate and intense. It can be hard to channel such strength and energy and passion well. At times 5 years is also be so loving and affectionate, and thoughtful. 5 years is incredibly persistent and can push ALL of the buttons. But 5 years also works so hard, and does his best a lot. 5 years can also be far too rough with his sister, and I wish I could help him understand his own strength. I do find that 5 years makes me so frustrated, especially when I feel disrespected, and the pendulum often swings wildly between the deepest love and the most intense anger. 5 years is the most adoring big brother, and although he does get all up in the poor baby's face, he just loves him, and at times his life almost revolves around 'his' baby. Surprisingly, 5 years is handling school like a pro, and I have been so very proud of him. My everything is crossed that school is going to be marvellous for 5 years, and that he will learn and grow so much there. 5 years is incredibly funny, and makes so many people around him laugh with his funny ways and sayings. 5 years is smelly, and dirty, and smart, and brave and makes me feel all of the feelings. 

3 months.

                                                                      

 

3 months is a darling. 3 months seems to have slotted in so nicely, and he just belongs here. 3 months is a content little sausage, who is happiest when he is held. 3 months wakes up smiling, and has very cheerful mornings, but does tend to get crankier in the afternoons. 3 months does not like being put down in the afternoons when mummy has to cook dinner, and organise baths and teeth and stories. But, 3 months sleeps at night. Oh he sleeps so well! The best sleeper of all my babies, and I am just so grateful for that. I know it could change in a heartbeat. But for now having a good sleeper makes all the difference in the world to how a mother copes. 3 months has the biggest widest grin you've ever seen, and he seems (for the most part) to be contentedly, quietly just taking it all in. He loves his siblings, and thinks his Daddy is hilarious, and he is Mummy's cuddly koala. It is going to be so very interesting to see who 3 months turns out to be. But in the meantime 3 months is a happy little ray of sunshine, with the occasional thundercloud thrown in for good measure. 

On raising them well

I was flicking through Instagram tonight, when I came across something shared by someone I follow. It was a lovely family holiday snap, and underneath she had captioned "the greatest legacy we can leave our children are happy memories." And while I appreciate the sentiment, and completely understand that as a parent you want your child to grow up and have wonderful happy memories, my immediate reaction was: Bollocks. 

I love my children, and I want them to be happy. But to my mind raising them happy is not my job. My job is to raise people who love God, are kind to other people, and aren't entitled little jerks the world has to endure. 

I must admit, I've probably dragged myself a little towards the finish line these school holidays. There's been a little more screens, a little less activity and a little more shouting than I would have liked. I know there are going to be times when I'm on the ball as a parent more than others. But I'm just here right now reminding myself not to give up.

Last night Shane sent me the devotional he had read, and it was on refusing to settle. He was talking about it applying to himself. But I think it applies to our parenting too. I don't want complacency to rob me of the goal I am working towards. Which is to help these children grow up to be strong, courageous, kind, gentle, generous, self-sacrificing, patient, disciplined and humble. We were created for more than 'good enough' and I would like to see my children excel as humans. No necessarily to win awards, or prizes, or succeed according to the worlds standards. But to love God, and love others, and be the best version of themselves they can be. No matter what they do. I think what you do can be less important than the way in which you do it.  They may be doctors or garbage men (which is, it must be noted, Charlie's ambition), but whatever path they take in life, I think it is good to give your best, no matter the task. That whatever you do' you do well, 'pressing in toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called you' (Philippians 3:14). 

I don't want my children to settle, and that means that right now, I need to make sure I don't settle for a little joy or peace or contentment. Right now I am kind of in the trenches, because I must work every day to help shape these children into the people they will become. But I need to remember that I really have to do the hard yards now. It's worth it, and it really does matter.

The struggle

I know, I know, all I seem to do on this blog is complain about how hard parenting is. But the thing is, I'm finding it really hard. Things aren't dreadful, but they are tough, and I'm allowed to struggle sometimes. So that's where we're at.

In my church, we do journaling, where you read your bible and find parts that are speaking directly to you, and then you write about what those parts are saying to you, and how they apply to your life. Lately, my central theme seems to be to be brave. "Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.” Psalm 31:24 NIV. I'm working on having courage to keep going. To shake off my past mistakes, and continue to trust God with them. I'm learning how to be brave and persevere and trust in God. And I need to do that with my children, and the way I parent them.

I know life, and parenting often gets compared to a roller coaster, but honestly I think I'd liken it more to a swing, you go up and down and up and down, and your legs are pumping and you're working so hard, but you never get anywhere. You just keep doing the same thing over and over. Or at least, that's the way my bipolar style of parenting seems to work, anyway. I'm either caring about everything "no you can't have the iPad" "yes you must eat your vegetables" or nothing, and I parent in an apathetic, can't-be-bothered-trying mode "fine, sleep in my bed" "yes, just go watch TV" "sure, eat whatever you want, just leave me alone!".

You compare yourself to other parents, but most of all you compare yourself to the version of yourself you want to be in your head. You see yourself so clearly through your kids actions and their words, and the voice of Satan whispers "You'll never be enough. You can't do this. You've already failed." It takes so much courage, when you truly do believe his words, to stand up, and continue fighting. To be brave, and trust that God has created you to be these children's parents, right here, right now. That His grace really can be sufficient for your parenting. That His grace will be sufficient for your children.

Maybe that's why we have children. It helps us truly understand the love the father has for us, yes. But I think it also makes us realise just how fallen we are, and steeped in sin. If I'd never been a parent, I'd know I'm a sinner, and I'd believe in God, and need his grace. But now, as a parent, I feel like I am drowning in my sin, and Gods grace and love is the only life raft I have. I have to believe that He can work all things, even my crappy parenting, together for good. Because I love Him. I have to believe That He can not only overcome my parenting, but even use it, to fillfill His plans and purposes.

Really, all you can do is stand, and keep hoping that somehow God will be able to make something beautiful out of this. Keep trying, keep asking for forgiveness, and doing your best, and love them the best you can. Keep waking up at night, and giving them medicine when they are sick. Keep washing their clothes and putting food on the table. Keep waiting in the car for their ballet lessons to finish. Keep saying sorry when you get angry, or make a mistake. And hope that one day, when they look back on their childhood, they will know that you tried.

Five

Our family of four has become five. Little Theodore has arrived, and he is a darling. It's funny isn't it? You wonder how a little person is going to fit, and change things, and then they arrive, and you realise that they are completely necessary and essential, and they just belong.

His arrival was different. But surprisingly ok. I've had a few dramas along this pregnancy, and a few times wondered if we would have to have a Caesarean. So even though it was surprising and unexpected when I was told I would need an emergency cesarean... It was also kind of not.

For whatever reason, little Ted was never quite comfortable about being born. There was meconium in my waters when they broke, the doctor did an internal to discover I was only 2-3cm dilated. They popped a heart monitor clip on his head, and we watched his heart rate plummet a couple of times every time I had a contraction, and that was it. Suddenly it didn't seem to matter at all how he was delivered.

So we were rushed to theatre and it was a bit surreal and terrifying, and all that I could think of was a healthy baby. But then he arrived, and he was healthy and whole and perfect. He looked so grumpy in the bright lights, and sat beside me cuddled in his daddy's arms looking very unhappy with the fact that he had been disturbed. 

The rest of it was a bit of a blur, and I must say I would very much rather have a natural birth than a cesarean. But he needed it. So really, I couldn't ask for more. 

His brother and sister are being wonderfully affectionate and loving towards him, albeit in a smothering way, but there has been no jealousy, for which I am so grateful. So far, we are all doing ok, and a beautiful essential addition has been made to our family.

All of the feelings

I have a confession to make. I am 34 weeks pregnant. And I feel done. I am starting to get uncomfortable, cranky, and I have very little patience, and my body is getting that late-pregnancy-heaviness, and I am so tired. 

I feel so incredibly sorry for this little one in my tummy. Because it feels like this poor baby has nobody in the world who is excited about its arrival. I know mostly it's probably just a third baby thing, it's hard for Shane or I to get that same level of excitement, when you just know what's coming, you know how how tired you're going to be, and you know how hard it is. It's also especially hard to get excited when you spend so much of your time shouting at two other tiny humans, and ferrying them to and from kindy, and school, and ballet, and swimming, and trying to take care of all of their physical and emotional needs, and making sure they are going to cope with another tiny human joining their family. But oh, I feel guilty.

I just feel like this was a really, really poor choice on my part. Not because of this baby. Oh no. This baby I have no doubt is an amazing little human who deserves to be born, and has so much value and worth. But, surely it deserves a better mother?

I was going through the folding soup residing on my bedroom floor today, thinking "you're about to add another persons laundry to this mess you stupid woman!" My house just cannot be clean. I want to nest and make sure I have clothes and a cot and stuff for a baby, but I'm too busy half-assing all my regular housework. And sleep? Oh lord, sleep!? My kids sleeping habits are worse now than they used to be when they were babies! I was so strong at night with them when they were little, and would make sure they always slept on their own beds, and I had babies who slept for twelve hours straight. Yet somehow they've turned into big kids who are scared of bugs and monsters and wolves and they come and sleep in my bed in the middle of night and I have awful tantrums at 2am, because I just simply cannot anymore, when I never did that to a baby. What is wrong with me? And how on earth are we going to cope with a baby on top of this? I'm never going to sleep again!

I should have stopped with the two I had and concentrated on being a better parent to them, rather than try to start over screwing up yet another tiny human. Like seriously, my kids are intense. They are crazy attached to me, and get separation anxiety, and get so aggressive, and have their own social/emotional issues and they are hard work, and what was I thinking adding a baby to their already chaotic lives? 

Haven't we already got enough on our plates? My poor husband is studying, and working, and trying to be a good dad, and provide for us. He is working so hard to try and get us ahead financially. He works so hard at uni, and gets 100% on exams and 19/20 on assignments because he is amazing, and I'm supposed to be studying too. But it takes its toll, on all of us as it is, and instead we are going to add to the stress and financial pressure, and am I sure this was a good idea?

I was trying so hard to be fit and healthy throughout this pregnancy. But now I have cancelled my gym membership because I just couldn't anymore, and one hour at the gym would see me in pain, out of commission for the next day with my stupid pelvis. And I didn't get gestational diabetes, which was great, but now I'm packing on the weight like there's no tomorrow, and eating all of the food, because I just don't care anymore. So I'm probably right on track to have another enormously huge baby. And, do I have to have another baby? Giving birth really flipping hurts! And I'm only just remembering that now?

I am just far, far too selfish to be a mother.

Last night when Georgie woke up, I tried to resettle her into her bed (unsuccessfully) and I was praying that God would be her comforter and strength, and that she could just rest secure in his love. I was praying that His perfect love would drive out the fear that consumed her, that He would help her to have peace in Him, and trust in Him. That she would know she is not alone, and that she has value. That He would help her with her fears, and that they would have no place in her life.

And God went.... Hello!!!

And I was like... Oh. Yeah. Right. 

So yeah, there's that.

To the teacher of my small, anxious child...

Dear Teacher,

Hi. I am the Mother of one of your students. I know you have many. And they are all so important. But this is my child. And she matters to me. For her, school is hard. I understand, I do, that the demands placed on students and teachers to perform, are incredibly taxing, and so many children find starting school hard. But she is mine, and she matters to me.

And she is precious. You don't know, how could you? Who would expect you to? But she is. She is a darling little girl, she is kind, and she dances around the house. She cares about her brother, and she loves babies, and she tries so hard to be helpful. She loves to do jobs around the house, and be useful. She is loving, and she is loved. She has so many people who love her so much. And she is mine, and she matters to me.

I know that she is not perfect. I understand that she can be hard work. That her little introverted ways make her a little more work than your average bear, and I know she doesn't put herself out there. I know she is a huge drama queen, and I know that she gets tired, and lazy, and unmotivated and that she sometimes just doesn't want to, and I can see how that would make your job much harder. But if you can only look, see her, and try to unlock her, she would give you everything she had.

We are not perfect parents. We shout, and lose our temper, and our kids watch too many screens, and read too few books. Maybe we should have been more present, more focused, had her writing her name and knowing her alphabet, and reciting numbers, before she came to you. I can tell you of at least a thousand mistakes I made. But we loved her, love her. In our own imperfect way. And her Daddy read her 'The Chronicles Of Narnia' tonight before bed, just after he played a game with her on the iPad. She loves Enid Blyton, and knows Silky, and Moonface, and The Saucepan Man, as well as Nemo, and Elsa, and Cinderella. She helps cook in the kitchen, and loves to measure ingredients, as well as eat McDonald's. We do our best.

But, this morning she cried. Cried and cried. Because she didn't want to go to school. She thinks nobody likes her. She wakes up at night sometimes, anxious about school. She comes home, exhausted and worn out from working hard, and trying all day long. I know some mornings, you probably see an emotional, difficult little girl who requires more effort than you can give. But she is trying, so hard. Please see her. It doesn't have to take much. But please, please, see her. Because she is mine, and she matters to me.

You must understand, that for the first 5 years of her life. I was there. I was always there. Even on the bad days, even when I was the cause of the bad days. I was still there. To have to not be there for six hours a day, five days a week. Is hard. Because now, I don't know. I don't know how her days are going. How she is coping. I get told she is coping, but the child who comes home tells me she isn't, and behaves in a way that leads me to believe she isn't. There is much trust required here. And it's hard to trust, as a parent, when you don't really seem to see a teacher understanding your child. When you watch your loving child who is so responsive when she feels valued, just struggle. When school mornings at home are getting worse, rather than easier.

I know you can't make friends for her. I know that so much of that is just something she has to work out for herself. And we are trying to give her the tools to help her. I know you can't make her understand reading and writing all at once. That some children take time, and just are not ready.  But if you just look. See her. Pay attention. It will reinforce the belief that she matters. And it will help. Please see my child. Because she is mine, and she matters to me.

Tired

Hey there. It's been a while. And I have news. Hopefully, come October, our family will grow to five instead of four. And oh Lordy, I'm just so tired. I am excited, I was so excited. But in the last 6 weeks or so, ever since the morning sickness and tiredness hit, I've been too weary to feel much excitement.

I feel terrible, but to be honest it feels more like I've gotten on a roller coaster, and I'm mentally preparing for the ride because I know the earth is going to fall out from underneath us soon. It's difficult, when you know how much hard can be involved in a new baby, when you remember how much life gets disrupted, and when you are more aware than ever of just what can go wrong, and what you stand to lose if things do go wrong.

But I think I'm also forgetting the joy. The joy of the new little person, who is so fearfully and wonderfully made. My little people are growing up, and even though oftentimes I feel like I am mentally bashing my head against a brick wall, mothering them, I am realising I really like this age of independence, and quirky hilarity. Getting to know these tiny humans we've raised is so much greater than I imagined. But I also like the joy and wonder and sweetness of a newborn, and I am grateful to get the chance to do that again. Gotta make sure I don't let the fear cancel out the joy.

I am really hoping the second trimester energy will hit soon, and I will start to feel a little less knackered. Honestly, I've felt like a very crap mum these holidays. I've tried to do, but it is embarrassing how much Netflix my kids have watched in the last few days. I've been very much in bare minimum mode. My house is in a right state, and I am at the point where the folding isn't even on my radar. I hate it. But I am hoping that come next week with school and kindy starting back, I can play catch up a little. Because at least, for a few hours a day my poor kids will get stimulation that doesn't rely on me or television. 

I know, I'm growing a human, and am allowed to be tired. And I can probably count on two hands the number of nights in the last five years that I've had a full, uninterrupted night sleep. But I also know just how checked out I have been, mentally. I'm not present, I'm on my phone. And I hate that. And I only have myself to blame. I want so much to parent, and love the way God intended me to. I need to be so much more disciplined. We are always our own biggest problems aren't we?

Anyway, I should be sleeping now. But I just wanted to check in. Keep a record. Get the thoughts out. That's where it is at the moment!

To my sister....

My sister is having a baby! Soon. I am praying like mad for a great birth and a healthy baby and so many good things. I have a very strong belief that she will be an excellent mother. And I want to write her a little something...

Dear Liz, 

I love you. Very much. I just know you're going to be a great mum. And I just want to tell you. Even though this will be one of the hardest things you will ever do, it's also going to be one of the best.

Nothing teaches you about giving, like mothering. You constantly, constantly put another persons needs above your own. When you have a tiny human who will not stop crying and you don't know what to do, you will love them, and you will put their need to be rocked and cuddled over your own need for sleep. When you have a tiny human who makes you angrier and more frustrated and exhausted than you thought possible, you will somehow swallow your anger, and treat them with love and compassion because that is what your child needs. You will give, until you can't possibly give anymore, until all your give is used up. And then you will give some more.

It is the most tiring, exhausting, thankless, rewarding, beautiful job in the world.

Nothing in the world will make you feel more connected to, and grateful to your saviour. You will understand, and cherish Gods love for you more and more.

You are going to judge yourself so harshly. You will hear voices that tell you you are doing everything wrong, and that you're screwing this kid up for life. Don't believe them. You are exactly the person God created to be this child's mother, and there is nobody in the world who is capable of doing it better than you.

I love you, so much. I have such faith in you. God bless you.

Love, your sister

Minefield

Mostly, I go ok. Ish. But last night we didn't have a good nights sleep. So we are tired. And weary. It has been a week of firsts and new and change, and I just don't wanna anymore.

You think motherhood is babies, and reading stories, and talking to kids about flowers and animals, and yeah you know there will be rough stuff, like having to talk about sex, and hard friendship stuff, and toilet training, and sleepless nights. It's cuddles in bed, inhaling childish loveliness. But sometimes, you have tiny humans who are actively fighting against you. You have tiny humans who are irritating, and don't appreciate the fact that you've tried. You don't think about the day to day life hard, about having to put food on the table every night, or standing in a toilet cubicle in a restroom while a little person does number two and you nearly want to gag at the stench of it, you're just so desperate for it to be over, so you can get out of that tiny, smelly, prison. You don't think about how irritating it is to have to pull over and fix car seat belts, or retrieve lost water bottles, or do school drop offs in the pouring rain.

It's a series of curveballs. Some people, they thrive on spontaneity and the unknown. They relish change and rise to meet new challenges. I avoid them. And motherhood is so many curveballs. All the time. Baby. Teeth. Toilet training. Sleep. Food. Tantrums. Kindy. School. Friendships. Education. Am I making the right choice here? Have I prepared you well enough for this? They shouldn't be watching so much television. No TV in the mornings before school. Here is an iPad, just be quiet for 5 minutes. Don't scream at your brother. Stop hurting the dog. For the love of God, why did you throw dirt at your sister just after she got dressed into her school uniform?

It's just hard. 

And then. You hear the garbage truck trundle down the street, and there are no tiny people to tell "look it's the rubbish bin man!" and they don't rush to the window to watch the garbage truck empty the bin, because they aren't there. And pretty soon, even when it's school holidays, they won't rush to watch the bin being emptied, because they will have grown up. And, and, and.....

You want them to grow up, and it's so nice to have some space. But what if they aren't coping? What if you don't cope? How do you learn to be a person again, when all you've been is a mother? And a tiny human is sitting, scared, fighting back the tears at her desk in school, trying to be brave. And you walk away. You have to walk away. Even though every fibre of your being tells you not to. You know this is necessary. So you smile and wave and chirp "Have a great day!" while you drag another tiny human shouting "I don't want to leave the playground, I don't like you mum!"

Oh it's just so many contradictions, and ALL of the feelings. I think it's time for a coffee. And today, cake.