photo credit: kzamani

Thank you for not asking me “if I know what causes that” when eyeballing my four young children while I paid a hideous amount of money for groceries for our little family.

Thank you for telling me that my daughter was beautiful, and for handing me my receipt without further comment.

Your silence on the matter was a victory of self-restraint. (Yes, I could read in your eyes what you were thinking.) But you didn’t say it. You didn’t force me into answering it with some trite, Hahaha comment that I didn’t really mean.

(I come up with great answers, by the way, when I’m back in the car, but never in the moment. So you saved me from that.)

You made my shopping experience much better.

Sincerely,

A Happy-but-irritated-by-instrusive-comments-from-strangers Mom.

1. There is no such thing as a short grocery list.

2. It will always take longer than I think to get out the door.

3. A simple yes or no works just as well as those overblown explanations I keep giving. Seriously, Annie? Quit talking.

4. When I am discouraged, depressed, unmotivated, and cranky, 9 times out of 10, it is because I need sleep. A 20-minute nap works wonders. A 2-hour nap is miraculous.

5. Speaking of naps, everyone who is not a parent undervalues the beauty and glory of sleep. But you can’t really convince them of that…

6. Every little thing I can do to make morning and bedtime and post-nap-grumpy-time and pre-dinnertime-witching-hour easier and simpler is a good idea.

A really good idea.

7. These kids are not deprived of anything, literally. Hello, richest country in the world. We live here. Our “poor” is still pretty darn good.

8. The day is hugely and disproportionately better when I get up before everybody else and get the day started calmly.

9. The day is hugely and disproportionately worse when I sleep until the last minute and get the day started in a grumpy funk of caffeine-deprived sleep haze.

10. I should have bought stock in a coffee company.

11. Schedules – realistic, flexible ones – help everybody.

12. Kids like routines.

13. Kids can live on an amazingly small amount of food.

14. If it can be spilled, it will be spilled. Put a lid on that freakin’ sippie cup. That’s why they have lids.

15. Any type of food, when eaten by a child in a car, will produce ten times its weight in crumbs.

16. I have to say no more than I get to say yes, but that’s okay. It’s simply a condition of our complex, overfilled world.

17. I will probably always be the Mom that the other Moms at the playground look at funny. That’s okay.

18. Comparisons to other Moms have absolutely no business influencing my life or standards. We’re all different, and that’s good.

19. If I can be one step ahead (of need, kids, deadlines), then everything works better.

20. I can never take too many photos. Or videos.

21. I should write down the funny things these kids say and do, because chances are I’ll forget by the end of the day if I don’t.

22. The days are long, but the years are short. Enjoy them.

photo credit: Victor Bezrukov

There’s no real secret, it’s just this. Ancient wisdom.

There is one who gives freely, yet grows all the richer… Proverbs 11:24

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Whoever brings blessing will be enriched, and one who waters will himself be watered. Proverbs 11:25

We live in a culture of self.

Self-sufficiency, self-preservation, self-defense, self-nurture, self-care.

These concepts aren’t necessarily bad – I’m a big fan of self-sufficiency, in many ways – but these concepts also aren’t necessarily good. Sometimes they’re just Self-ish.

But we do need to take care of ourselves, right? You know that feeling you get as a wife, a mom, a woman, a friend, a dependable person who can be counted on? That feeling that just once, just this once, you’d like to say HEcK with ‘em all, let ‘em handle their own messes! and drive away with screeching tires and really loud music?

Oh, um, is that just me that feels that way sometimes?
(How embarrassing.)

Anyway. Maybe you never feel that way, but I do. I’ll admit it. I want to be dependable, but I don’t want to be predictable. I want to be a good wife, but I also want to be my own person. I want to be a good mom, but I also want to do something besides mommy stuff.

The message we hear is to set boundaries, draw lines, etc etc. Make sure that we get taken care of. That our priorities are made important. I hear that a lot; I’ve even said it quite often, and it’s not always the wrong advice.

It’s just not always the best advice.

Here’s how I see it: there’s good, better, best. Oh, and there’s also bad.

• Bad is being a doormat who never voices an opinion, who lets herself be used and abused.

• Bad is also being a self-centered, spoiled brat of a woman who whines, complains, manipulates, and threatens to get her own way.

• Good is learning how to set boundaries so you’re not a doormat.

• Better is learning to communicate and compromise so you’re able to pursue your own dreams and help others too.

• Best is learning to take a giant step of faith, put all your dreams in God’s hands, give give give give give, and then see how He pays you back.

Best is scary. It’s a risk, or at least it feels like a risk.

It’s also got the greatest return-on-investment potential.

Look, I think God can work with us wherever we are. I know He’s met me in many different places. Sometimes the lesson I needed to learn was to be more honest, to stand up for myself. Sometimes the lesson I needed to learn was to be more humble, to let little things go, to give more of myself.

Right now the lesson He’s holding out to me, gently showing me, just kind of saying, Hey, look at this. You could, if you dared… is this lesson. The good-better-best lesson. The fact that I don’t oftennever choose best.

It’s a lesson of faith that is giant in my world. A lesson of risk-taking. A lesson of not standing my ground, staking my claim, planning my way, but of throwing it all into His hands, giving my heart out, and then seeing what He does with it all.

Gulp.

I’ll get back to you.

1. Quit repeating yourself.

Don’t say it if you don’t mean it. If you do say it, mean it. Say it once, leave it alone, then ACT if necessary to follow through on what you’ve said.
P.S. When saying stuff to your kids, e.g, instructions, commands, suggestions, etc., remember to be CLEAR and be BRIEF. Clear: don’t ask when you are actually telling. Don’t offer an option if there really isn’t one. Don’t confuse the issue. Don’t give too many choices. Simple is best here. Brief: The longer you talk, the less your kids hear. Short, sweet, and to the point.

2. Get rid of (at least) half the toys in your home.

If you’re thinking this is extreme, try it. Box up half of the toys/gear/supplies and stick it in the garage, attic, closet, whatever. If your kids ask for it specifically, then consider it worth keeping. If that hasn’t happened in a few weeks, give it away. Kids don’t need stuff as much as they need space, time, and freedom for creativity.

3. Equip yourself for the toughest meal time.

Maybe that’s breakfast for you, getting everyone out the door on time. Or maybe it’s dinner, what my sis and I commonly refer to as the witching hour, when everything and everyone seems to fall apart just as we’re trying to get supper finished and served. Either way, anticipate the stress by 1) planning quick, simple, easy meals; 2) keeping your pantry/fridge/freezer stocked so you always have something on hand; and 3) getting as much prep done ahead of time as you can.

4. Create a simple, daily routine for kids to follow.

Kids, in general, like routines. A simple routine does not mean you have to schedule your day and theirs in fifteen-minute increments. In fact, I beg of you, please don’t do that. But do establish some daily habits, like first we have breakfast, then we do chores, then we have art time… You can still have plenty of “unplanned” blocks of time, but giving yourself and your kids some mile markers through the day helps keep everyone sane, calm, and happy.

5. Institute room time.

Room time is essential, I think, if you have more than one kid (or hey, even if you only have one) and if you want to keep your sanity and give them their own creative space, too. We all need some down time, and especially for kids and stay-at-home Moms, we all need some down time away from each other. Room time provides that. In my house, it means the boys go to their room and shut the door and play with their toys in there (I don’t keep a ton of toys in there, by the way, mostly bigger, easy to pick up stuff like trucks. See #2.) Mara goes to her room and shuts the door and gets to chill by herself for a while. She actually asks for room time if I forget it. It gives her time to do some more complex stuff (art projects) or quieter games (her little ponies and dolls) that the boys often interrupt out in the main living areas.
I can hear if anybody destroys anything or gets hurt, but I can finish cooking dinner in peace or sit down and read for 30 minutes.

6. Quit feeling guilty about the FAIL days.

You’re a parent, you have days that are labeled with the big red FAIL stamp. This is how things go. We don’t like ‘em, and especially us Moms… oh, we think we should get it right, or mostly right, every single day. It’s not gonna happen. Yesterday was a FAIL day for me, to the point that I was really contemplating how much I could get for the kids if I put them on Craigslist. Lucky for them Joe got home just then… But you know what? We’re all human. The sooner we accept that, as parents, about ourselves, the sooner we can accept that our kids will also have faults, and we can deal with all those accumulate faults – theirs, ours, and everyone else’s – without freaking out. Freaking out, by the way, is not one of the 7 ways to be a better parent.

7. Reduce the demands on your life.

This one goes hand-in-hand with #6. It’s about expectations, and it’s about the fact that we often expect ourselves to live up to these demands that have accumulated over time. They can become burdensome, to say the least, and can keep us from enjoying life, relaxing, enjoying our kids, and doing the things that are really important (like napping). If you’re still obligated and performing simply because at some distant point in the past you agreed to some responsibility, consider if you might need to cut that off. We change, life changes, and we need to adjust the demands we allow ourselves to live under. More is definitely not better, unless you’re talking about more time with your kids, more time with your spouse, more time for yourself, more time to rest, and more time to be creative and have fun.

Image: mechika by I/Ong

Over the last few days, I’ve been skimming through Dr. Kevin Leman’s Becoming the Parent God Wants You to Be.
I picked it up from the church library after one of those weeks when I figured my fertility must have been oversight on God’s part. “Oh no, Annie had kids? That wasn’t supposed to happen…”

Yeah, yeah, one of those. And after one of those conversations in which a recently-returned-to-town friend casually threw out the, “So, what are you guys up to? What’s been going on with you lately?” bomb-of-a-question.

Eh? I wanted to say, Do you see these small people following me? They are what has been going on lately, and as far as I can tell, they are what will be going on for the next ten or fifteen or (dear God please help me) twenty years. That’s what I’m up to.

I held my tongue and said something vague and more appropriate. One of these days, though…

Anyway, on to the point, which I have now forgotten. Oh, yes, the book. The book that I brought home and which subsequently sat on my desk until another one of those weeks went by, at which point I pulled it out and thought, Maybe this would be more helpful if I read it.

Indeed.

“…godly parenting means treating your children the way God treats us, His children. He lovingly helps us make wise decisions about the realities of life.” (p. 21)

The line “treating your children the way God treats us” made me stop and think. God is not a taskmaster. God is not set on vengeance. God is not offended by our failures. God is not demanding our perfection. God is available. God is listening. God is speaking in ways I can understand, over and over again until I get it. God is not interested in the outward appearance, but in the heart. God is understanding, loving, gentle, kind, and merciful. God is truthful, firm, strong, and secure. God is happy: the joy of the Lord is my strength. How can He give me joy if He doesn’t have it Himself?

Ready for the obvious translation?

I should not be a taskmaster over my children. I should not be set on vengeance toward myself, for failing, or toward anyone else. I should not be offended my my children’s failures. I should not be demanding their perfection. I should be available. I should be listening, aware, watching. I should be speaking in ways that my children can understand, over and over again until they get it. I should not be so interested in how they look and should be completely interested in their little hearts. I should be understanding, loving, gentle, kind, and merciful. I should be truthful, firm, strong, and secure. (Not wavering. Not a pendulum.) I should be happy, too. It’s good to be happy.

I say “should be” not to pour guilt on myself or anyone else but to show us all what is possible.
Of course, with man these things are impossible. They are too high, too wide, too deep for my narrowness. But with God… with God…
all things are possible.

I congratulate myself on my skills of observation. It only took me a month to notice that those boxes of toys I keep tripping over – in the sun room, the front room, the bedrooms – are left emphatically alone by my children. Dismally untouched.

I don’t want to think about the amount of money represented there, now just sitting, unused. Little plastic pieces and rubber gizmos and wooden blocks — they’ve even abandoned the wooden block set! That one hurts because I like the idea of neat little towers of wooden blocks. Maybe if all the wooden blocks weren’t lost in the jumble of MacDonald’s toys and raggedy baby dolls.

I’m thinking of a drastic change. I’m thinking of just getting rid of the toys. Chunked. Out the window. To the Good Will. I can do this, I think, because I haven’t bought most of them. They were gifts or hand-me-downs or maybe thrift store purchases. And they are taking up space while my children play with non-toys. Things like

• my bowls and spoons in the kitchen
• random lengths of ribbon and yarn
• sticks
• gravel
• dirt
• mud
• water
• markers and crayons and play-dough and glue sticks
• bubbles
• sidewalk chalk
• books

Today Mara and Robbie spent an hour standing on little chairs in front of the sink washing dishes for me. An hour. And I actually had to tell Mara it was time to stop… Sure, they got wet. They got water on the floor. I needed to mop anyway; it actually made the job a bit easier to have some sudsy water there.

I’m getting a message from the kiddos and the message is this: hey, Mom, we like to play but we like to play with real stuff. These other toys are boring.

That makes sense. The only toys around that they do pay attention to at all are things like

• trucks and cars and tractors
• train table with trains
• purses and “fancy” dresses
• play kitchen with play kitchen stuff
• a few special baby dolls

They like things that are helpful for playing at real life, because that’s what kids are interested in. Real Life. The real life that Mommy and Daddy are part of.
The real life that they’re going to grow up and have. That real life. The one that matters. They know this, instinctively. They care. They are playing at it because that’s how they learn about it and that’s how they prepare for it.

Two days ago Mara spent 30 minutes chopping mushrooms with a butter knife. A few days before that, Mara and Robbie sat at the counter diligently peeling boiled eggs. They were more absorbed in this “work” than they would have been in a movie or any fancy shiny new plastic thing.

So, hmmmm, let me think: I can entertain my daugher with a handful of mushrooms and a butter knife, and she’s learning kitchen skills, or I can spend $25 on a toy that will teach her nothing and will break and will lose its appeal before it breaks. You can buy a lot of mushrooms for $25. That’s a lot of chopping.
That’s a lot of time with my daughter at the kitchen counter, chatting me up while she works away, helping me with dinner, not just playing at real life but actively participating in it.

This is getting to be less and less of a tough decision and more and more of a given. I’ll keep you posted.

Images

1. Who needs toys courtesy of Ernst Vikne on Flickr.

These exceptions lead me to conclude that what I think I mean by Modern Homemaking isn’t really what I mean at all.
(They also lead me to conclude that I think way too much about things that probably aren’t important.)

Things I Am Trying to Say

What am I trying to say, then?

I’m trying to say that the divide between “career woman” and “housewife” is arbitrary, stupid, and well past its expiration date.

I’m trying to say that there is glory, beauty, and honor in caring for your home and those who live in it with you. Even when that caring means picking up dirty socks, washing another load of linens, putting together another last-minute dinner.

I’m trying to say that I do value the daily managing and making of a home, but I don’t value many of the standard side items.

I’m trying to say that I’m coming to peace with my own decisions. It’s okay that I make a quick dinner so I have time to write an article. It’s okay that I don’t make dinner at all because I am flowing with this chapter and I want to get it done. It’s okay that I close the laptop to do the laundry. And it’s okay when the laptop, the laundry, and everything else must wait because I am resting, thinking, being. Or because I have fallen asleep on the couch again…

Homemaking is a term relegated to certain categories: outdated 50s-esque domestic mamas or crafty creative DIY types or simplifying, organizing comfort mavens. None of us fit perfectly into any category, and some of us resist categorization at all. We’re all unique, but we feel like by identifying ourselves as someone interesting in “homemaking” we are instantly boxed, labeled, and shelved.

I tend to resent that just a little bit.
Okay, a lot.

Modern homemaking isn’t about wearing vintage skirts or knitting scarves or cooking gourmet meals or having children or even having a husband. Wherever you live, with whomever you live, you can either make a home to dwell in or clean a house to sleep in. Those are two different experiences.

Home is important. We need home. We need the atmosphere of comfort, warmth, order, freedom. We need space to relax in, stretch out in. We need space by which we identify ourselves, in which we can be ourselves.

I’ve never lived alone, so all my talk of home includes, in my mind, the people we share a home with. But that’s not even the core of it. Home can exist whether it is for me or for us. And sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you have to create a little home for me within the larger house for all of us. Sometimes that’s how life is: not ideal. But you shouldn’t wait for ideal.

Modern homemaking doesn’t look the same for everybody. I am a stay-at-home Mom and a freelance writer; among my friends and acquaintances are women who are single, single or separated with children, separated without children, living alone, living with parents, living with friends, starting a career, having babies, staying at home with kids, working part-time, working full-time, running a business, working from home… you name it. All sorts of in-between places, roles that aren’t clear-cut in a world that likes simple categories.

But all of these women are in the midst of daily making a home.

So my question is this: what is it about making a home that is important to all of us, as different as we are? How are we the same? How are we different? What can we learn from each other, both in terms of inspiration and practical, day-to-day methods? Are we willing to expand our category blinders a bit and see that the world – even the world of something like modern homemaking – is a bigger and more varied place than we knew?
Okay, that was more than one question. I’ll narrow it down to one, because this is the one I’d really like to hear your answers to.
When you clean, or cook, or hang a picture, or wash a towel, or paint a wall, or organize the closet, or any of the myriad items that fall under “modern homemaking”…
What are you trying to say?

I’ve got a little plan. I’ve coerced some of my friends into writing guest posts for me so we can a few different perspectives. These guest posts will be running for the next several Mondays, the day I normally post some house/home related article. Next Monday will be Marci from Overcoming Busy. Stay tuned!

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Images

1.What, you expect me to use this? courtesy of NicasaurusRex on Flickr.