In roughly seven weeks, our life is going to change drastically. I think I’m ready for it, but I don’t know.
Are you ever really ready to have a baby?
This is the fourth time I’ve done this, so I feel like I’m a little more prepared for the process of transition. I’m ready to not be pregnant. I’m ready to meet her. I’m ready to see my big kids become big siblings, some of them for the second or third time, one of them for the first time.
I’m ready to to move forward, but I’m also not.
I’m not ready for middle of the night feedings. I’m not ready for the sleep deprivation. I’m not ready to try and get three kids up and out the door in the mornings with an infant in my arms, and then get those same three kids to bed at night with an infant in my arms.
I’m not ready to figure out how to fit eating and nap schedules into sports schedules.
I won’t really be ready for any of that, which is why I’m priming myself daily to just let it all go. Go with the flow. Ride the wave of crazy until it crests a little bit.
“You’re not going to die from disorganization,” I tell myself daily. Although with the nesting settling in full force, I am finding myself a bit twitchy at all the things that need to be done around here. The clutter – AH! The clutter. I want to get rid of all of it. I want to stop spending money (last bit of summer fun combined with school time preparations is making me feel like I’m just tossing stacks of bills into the wind…)
I want to hole up in a neat, quiet, organized house and wait for her to come.
But I can’t.
There are activities in which to participate, preparations to be made, messes to be tolerated, and bills to pay. Insurance confusion won’t sort itself out, and kids want to swim three times a day while they still can.
(I just wish they would quit swimming in their clothes because the laundry is killing me softly.)
There’s a season in which creating, working on my craft, takes a much more prominent role. And there are seasons when mothering my brood has to be given greater precedence.
There’s a season for a neat house and fresh, homemade meals, and there’s a season for dirty floors, dirty laundry, and take out and left overs.
There’s a season to keep up, and a season to fall behind.
I’m not sure if there’s ever a season for sleeping when you’re a parent, but I hold out hope as it’s the only thing that gets me through the days.
Right now, as we finish out our final two weeks of summer before school starts, I find myself in a season of activity. That’s okay. I’m going to be okay with that. This is a season with friends over, lots of noise, messy floors, and memory building. It’s not a season for extended hours of writing.
In two weeks the season will change.
And after that? An entirely new season will begin.
Embracing the crazy is my only option…because drinking’s off the table.
I’m kidding!
Sort of…
What season are you in right now? Are you enjoying the season, or are you, like me, talking yourself through it, clutching onto the joyful moments like a life vest?
I could label it unpreparedness, or perhaps the scattered brain of a creative. I could call myself unorganized, or better yet – unfocused. I could blame it on pregnancy (I get to use that excuse for two more months), or I could simply call it confusion (kids kill brain cells? Can I say that? Is that even a scientifically verifiable fact?)
What it all boils down to is this: Most of the time, I don’t have things together. I’m betting you don’t, either.
From the outside looking in, it may seem I’ve got life in order. For the most part, my children are somewhat put together. My house isn’t a pit of horrors (not today, anyway), and 90% of the time we get to where we need to be on time.
And by “on time,” we all understand that I mean within 10 minutes of when we were supposed to be there.
But I’m not going to lie: I often feeling like I’m barely keeping my head above water. I’m treading fast, kicking against a current that wants to pull me down, and while I suck in deep breaths, forcing oxygen to my brain, I remind myself over and over to enjoy this. Enjoy the heck out of this life, cause it’s the only one you get.
It’s the whole “Seize the Day” mentality. I’m seizing.
I’ve got the flippin’ day by the tail, my friends. Tally-Ho!
But I get tired, and my metaphors start blending together, and I fall short. I snap at my kids, and I throw my hands in the air with exasperation over silly little things. I fight the urge to hole up in a corner with my phone and lose myself to the false reality of Instagram and Facebook, because I know that most of the pretty photos on those sites are filtered to make life look like sunshine and bunnies all the time.
Summer is coming to a close, and a part of me is so sad. 88% of the time I really do love having my kids around. They’re fun, and they make me laugh. They’re a lot of work, but as hectic as the days get, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Part of me is doing back flips, though.It’s the subconscious part of me that’s not 52 months pregnant.
I’m overwhelmed with all the small people that filter through my house on a constant basis. They’re tired of one another, and they, too, end up exasperated over silly little things. The constant go-go-go of our days has me exhausted, but there’s no time to nap. No rest for this weary Mom.
So the scheduled days of school will be welcomed with both reluctance and jubilee…by everyone in our house.
Such is life, right?
There are pro’s and con’s to every season. Each phase leaves us excited and exhausted, ready to move forward and longing to stay where we are. Sometimes we even wish we could revisit the past, just for a few precious moments in time.
For those of you winding down your summer and preparing to step into the future with your kids, I share your pangs of sorrow and your whoops of joy. If your summer was anything like ours, it was packed full of fun, of time together, and of a hearty dose of relaxation. It truly was a summertime with an agenda packed full of awesome.
I raise my proverbial glass in a toast to you parents now. Let us tip back our drinks in celebration. Let us commiserate the passage of time. Here’s to another fabulous school year.
On the stretches of highway between Florida, Tennessee, and Arkansas, I devoured the Divergent series. Because I aim to stay a solid 18-24 months behind the curve of pop culture, I decided it was time to see what all the fuss was about.
Every hour and a half, my eleven year old leaned forward, his hot breath all up in my ear.
“Whatcha think of it, Mom?” he asked. “Can I read that series? All my friends at school have read it. Is it good? Would it be good for me to read?”
Round and round we went as I read, and he begged to follow me. About midway through Book One, I thought that maybe he could read it, or at least try to. He’s still not a strong enough reader for a book of that size, but it seemed engaging enough that he might be able to get through it.
By the end of Book One, I had enough reservations about the material that I decided we’d probably hold off on sharing this series with him. By the end of Book Two, I knew unequivocally that it would be several years before I wanted him to dive into this series.
By the end of Book Three, I was convinced that he would need to be at least sixteen before he could read these books, and even then it would be with a lot of dialogue. I had also decided that I would be more comfortable with him reading The Hunger Games trilogy before the Divergent series, namely because it is better written.
Besides the fact that I felt the Divergent series got entirely off track and confusing in its ultimate message (Just exactly was she trying to say?! There were roughly 15 potential themes covered in those books, and none of them were covered well. It was maddening and frustrating, to be quite honest), I also found the kissy-kissy relationship stuff to be over the top, over dramatic, and much too graphic for fourth/fifth graders. As I read through yet another make out session between Tobias and Tris, I couldn’t help but cringe and wonder if the parents who allowed their fourth graders to read those books last year understood the maturity of the subject matter.
We’ve had a lot of talks with our children about the necessity to protect and guard their minds lately. These talks need to start early as our kids are being exposed to more and more thanks to the onslaught of social media.
From music to books to television, our kids are introduced to concepts that are far too mature far too early. At least in my opinion. If my son is ready to dive into a fascinating and challenging series of books this year, I will gladly hand him The Chronicles of Narnia. While I love some of the Young Adult series coming out, I would rather expose my children to fine literature first, and when they’re older, if they’re still interested in reading these pop culture series, we can discuss which ones would be most worth the investment of their time.
I’m also a bit of a stickler about reading a book before you see the movie version. My kids love that about me…
Parenting is a battle. It seems that every day I am waging a war against pop culture, and the conflicting messages that culture sends to my children. I’m fighting too much exposure to the online world, too much screen time, the lyrics of popular songs. I’m battling against a world that tells them to grow up young, that tells my daughter her worth is found in how she dresses (and looks in clothing). Television shows emasculate men, while music demeans women.
This isn’t to say that we’re hard core limiting what they see and hear. On the contrary, we allow quite a bit of freedom for our children to see and hear things in this pop culture world. We don’t want to put them in a bubble. But we do want to teach them that just because something is popular doesn’t mean we need to be exposed to it.
The fact is, my kids are not ready to hear all the messages the world has to offer. They are not adults living in tiny bodies. They’re children learning to navigate their way through this world. And pop culture is not the voice I want dictating who my children become, how they think, and how they behave.
I want to challenge them to be deep thinkers, to have minds of their own, rather than to be tiny robots easily controlled by the next popular books/song/movie, etc…To that end, I’m taking my job as guardian seriously.
It’s a really, really hard job.
What are your thoughts on raising children in a land dictated by pop culture?
Wendy and I have been batting around this idea of inspiration, of motherhood, and of creativity for several years now, and as we continue to flesh it out, a message is taking shape, and together we are diving in so that we can share this message with all of you.
This process is requiring more of my time, but that’s okay. I don’t mind sleeping a little less. I consider it training for bringing home a new baby in a couple of months.
I also find myself researching constantly this idea of creativity, and how it fits into life, into motherhood, and into ministry. Everywhere I turn these days, it seems I run into examples of creative people making big impacts. I can hardly have a conversation anymore without some sort of bell sounding in my head:
This person is a creative. Observe! Observe! Observe!
Historical works and figures are not left out of my observations, either. Yesterday at church we discussed Psalm 22. At one point, one of the women in our group made the observation that David seemed a bit “eccentric.” His writings were revelations, they were songs, they were musings – for heaven’s sake, the man danced in nothing but a linen ephod, despite being king!
As she spoke, I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out, “David was a creative!”
Indeed, many creatives can be easily labeled as eccentric. Some may even dance their praise.
Creatives view the world differently, looking at life through a different lens. Writers don’t see words, they see stories that move and come to life. Artists don’t see colors, they see vivid shapes that form on canvas, in marble, and in blocks of wood. Bakers don’t see ingredients, they see bold cakes, artistic cookies, and people gathered to enjoy one another over a scone and some tea. Jewelry makers don’t see a hunk of metal – they see a necklace, a message adorning hope and beauty to the world.
I could go on and on, but the point is this: creative people are everywhere. They are all around us, and the more I observe them, the more I am in awe of this process of creating as an act of praise.
I hear music differently these days, because I imagine the process the songwriter went through to pen those words. (And it’s to be generally understood that I’m talking about good music here – not the teeny bopper pop fluff that my kids force me to listen to on a day to day basis). I feel the rhythms deeper as I imagine the pianist at the helm of her craft, or the drummer pounding in time with his heart.
As I research what it means to live this life with a creative bent, I grow more in awe of my Creator as well. Last night, I had the privilege of enjoying a sunset cruise in the Gulf of Mexico with some friends. As the sun dipped behind the clouds, and the sky around us lit up in red, orange, and yellow, I couldn’t help but smile at the master strokes of the One who Created it all.
It’s a privilege to live this life creatively, and if you are doing so, I urge you to keep doing it. Photographers, keep on capturing God’s creation, and revealing the world through your lens as He sees it through His.
Writers, pen your words as an act of worship.
Singers, do not hold back in fear or shame, but let loose a new song as an offering of praise.
To all my creative friends and readers, I offer you this – your gift is worth sharing with the world, and your eccentricities make your gift that much more beautiful to watch.
As this message and this book continue to come together, I will continue to share encouragement. We get one life – one chance to fully live out that to which we have been called. Creative friends – live your art out loud.
I had this imaginary friend growing up. Actually, she was more than just my imaginary friend, she was my imaginary twin sister. Her name was Janine, and we had a grand old time together until about the 4th grade when it began to dawn on me that playing with an imaginary sister was probably not the most socially acceptable form of free play.
Still, there were occasions for another year or so when I’d revisit my memories of time spent with Janine. I vividly remember that letting her go was a difficult thing for me to do, but the maturing part of my brain new it was a necessary task.
The funny thing about imagination is that it feels so very real, yet we know without a doubt that the created world inside our heads is false. For children, imaginative play is key to development, with some children exhibiting much better ability at tapping into their inner creativity than others.
For adults, imagination can often lend itself to fear. We know too much about the heartaches of this world, and that knowledge works against us.
There is something quite magical that happens, however, when an adult is able to tap into the healthy places of her imagination. This is where art is created – where stories take shape, paintings bloom on blank canvas, culinary masterpieces are placed on the table, and empty walls are filled with design.
Creativity is birthed in imagination, if we allow ourselves the space to let our minds soar.
Here are three easy steps to tapping into your imagination:
1.) Sit and think.
How often do we sit still as adults? Do we ever allow our minds the space to breathe and expand? For the busy mother, caught in the throes of parenting, sitting in silence is likely an unknown luxury. We hit the ground running from sun up to sun down, and at the end of the day, when given a few precious evening moments, often the television draws us in as the perfect zone out.
But what would happen if you gave yourself five or ten, or even more, minutes a day to just sit in the quiet? To think? To day dream? To imagine?What could you create in that quiet space? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps it would do no more than simply leave you refreshed, allowing you to create at a later time.
But maybe you would find that a whole wealth of ideas lay dormant in your muddled brain. If you’re a creative at heart, I guarantee those ideas are there. They’re just waiting to be discovered.
2.) Get your hands dirty.
There’s something about digging in and working that tends to wake up a dormant brain. While most mothers work themselves to the bone every day preparing meals, washing clothes, cleaning the house, and tending to the 642 needs that seem to arise every hour, we don’t often get away and work on something for the sheer pleasure of working on it.
We don’t let work be a time to engage our brains. Instead, we shut our minds down , laying all thought on the altar of the next necessary task.
Creatively freeing work will look different for everyone. For some, it’s the act of exercising. For others, it’s getting out in the yard and pulling weeds. Some simply need to do the creative work they love to do, while others find that their souls breathe when they’re scrubbing a bathtub.
Figure out what type of work engages the creative side of your brain and make a plan to do it as frequently as you possibly can.
3.) Laugh more.
According to WebMD, some researchers believe that laughter is one of the best, natural medicines.
“We change physiologically when we laugh. We stretch muscles throughout our face and body, our pulse and blood pressure go up, and we breathe faster, sending more oxygen to our tissues.
People who believe in the benefits of laughter say it can be like a mild workout — and may offer some of the same advantages as a workout.
One pioneer in laughter research, William Fry, claimed it took ten minutes on a rowing machine for his heart rate to reach the level it would after just one minute of hearty laughter.” From Give Your Body a Boost – WebMD
While laughter is not guaranteed to make you more creative, it is almost certain to lift your spirit, giving you energy, excitement, and the added benefit of joy that often births a creative splurge.
Look for the humor in every day life, and when you see it go ahead and laugh out loud. Just driving down the road gives plenty of laughable material, from the irony in roadside signs (“Huge Garage Sale” planted firmly in front of 4 worn items) to the goofy things your children say on a day to day basis.
“Hey Mom. When you get married, how long can you kiss your husband? And what do you do if you are kissing and you want to stop. Do you just yell, ‘Stop!’ with your lips pressed on his?”
You don’t have to invent an imaginary twin sister to tap into your imagination. With a little bit of effort, and the willingness to carve out a few moments of your day, you could find that a creative muse lay dormant just below the surface.
There’s a season in which creating, working on my craft, takes a much more prominent role. And there are seasons when mothering my brood has to be given greater precedence.
