The Neurotic Mommy Post.

There are so many things they don't tell you about being a parent.

1.Kid are hilarious. Often, perfectly timed to embarrass you.

Case in point: We went swimming a few weeks ago, and Hannah announced four seconds after we got down there, that she needed to use the bathroom. Slightly exasperated, I said, "Can't you just pee in the pool like every other kid?" Rest assured, I took her back upstairs so she could use a proper bathroom. Just a few days after that, my mom took the kids swimming at her complex's pool. It was pretty hot, so several people were enjoying the refreshing water. Hannah felt it was the perfect time to inform my mother quite loudly that "Mommy taught me how to pee in pool!" Needless to say, I spent a little time explaining that one to my mom.

At dinner the other night, Hayden was trying to share some news with us, and was (once again) interrupted by Hannah. He got up from the table, sans pants (that's another story) and marched down the hall. We could hear him singing something that sounded a little like, "Why am I such a misfit, I am not just a nitwit. You can't fire me, I QUIT!" For those of you that don't know, that's a lovely little ditty from "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." His song choice was creepily appropriate for his mood.

2. Other kids can be cruel. And it will possibly break your heart more than your child's.

We went to a party recently, where a slightly older little girl was going to be "hosting" with her parents. Hannah was beside herself at the opportunity to play with this little girl and her friends. A short time before we were getting ready to leave, I heard Hannah calling for help from upstairs. When I went to investigate, I found her locked in a room. By a gate. That was not the other child's room. Meanwhile, Other Girl, as she will now be known, was playing in a room with her other friends. My mind immediately tried to figure out how it was that Hannah came to be in a room alone with a gate, if she was completely unable to operate said gate. She didn't notice how completely she had been left out, and in the grand scheme of things, this event is so tiny it should be laughable. But it still stings my heart in such a way that I find myself unable to actually talk about it. So I'll blog it instead. I worry though, that the reaction I've had to that event leaves me completely unprepared to deal with what's coming in the lives of my children. Those moments that don't go unnoticed by innocent hearts, but permanently etch themselves in, creating tiny fissures that I will be unable to repair.

3. People say they grow up way too fast. They're not being truthful with you.

It's much faster than they say. It's the blink of an eye that leaves you staring pathetically at baby clothes in Target, wondering if maybe you should just have one more little addition to the family. Then you remember the "pee" incident at the pool and you come to your senses. Time goes so fast that you somehow end up the library, pawing through adolescent parenting books in an attempt to get ahead of the game. I spend far too much time obsessing over how I will handle having teenagers than any sane person should. Even as I'm telling myself to knock it off, because I'm about to miss something far more precious--their childhood.

I am confident in my abilities to handle a growing son. Boys are "easy" as they say. I am worried that attitude will cheat Hayden out of important life lessons and even empathy. I am determined to treat his self-esteem just as carefully as I plan on treating Hannah's.

I worry that my daughter will grow up with a skewed body image, not just because of what she sees in the media, but because she will not see me in many of the photo albums. She will secretly wonder, as I did, if that's because the very mother who assures her that beauty is more than skin deep, was ashamed of the way she looked. She will be right. So this week, I took a big step. I put a picture of myself on Facebook as the profile pic. Granted, Hannah's in it. But it's all about baby steps. And I am not foolish enough to believe that I can teach her that she IS fearfully and wonderfully made if I do not believe that of myself.

4. There will be days where you would rather be anything than a parent

These are the days you will sort of stink at parenting. You will be sitting on the computer playing The Sims 3 or Facebook-stalking your friends, and your child will walk up to you covered in chocolate. They will be smiling when they say, "I need to clean my hands." You will then find chocolate all over your house, because they have literally eaten an entire pan of brownies. Naturally, you'll blame your children on this day for your shady parenting skills.

They will lock each other in rooms with doors you can't open, and you will end up taking the knob off. They will push each other and tell you things like, "Well, I don't love you." You will be appalled--even afraid--at the anger they can incite in you. You may even seriously consider getting in the car and driving away. This is the point when you're going to want very much to text or talk to a friend, and if you're as blessed as I have been, you will have another amazing mom laugh and give you excellent advice on how NOT to kill your children.

And then, you'll pick them up from Sunday school after church. Your son will say, "I'm Hayden, and God made me special." You'll remember how desperately you asked God for a chance to stay home, to not miss any part of their growing up. And you'll realize that you really do worry too much. Because as long as you continue to give them access to a relationship with Jesus Christ, and they continue to remind you that "God made me special," there really isn't much to worry about at all.

Until you see the masterpiece they've created out of crayons and markers on the wall.

“See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.
(Matthew 18:10 ESV)

Just once, I want to finish something. Other than a season's worth of a show on Netflix.

On Monday, I start classes. Again. This will be my fourth attempt at college. Yes, fourth. I have changed my mind a hundred times since that first attempt, and this time I have settled on the paralegal program--for two reasons. 1) It takes about a year to complete, which is just short enough that I should be able to stay interested, and 2) It's one of those jobs that is just important enough that you can convince yourself that you are doing something to change the world, but without the kind of commitment required that keeps you from doing the things you want. Like being with your family. And watching all 9 seasons of The X Files.

I have this tendency to identify HUGE dreams and goals. I get really excited about it too. I plan out, in detail, how I can accomplish these things. There are lists involved, copious amounts of research, and lots of deep talks with my husband and my parents.

When I was 18, I was going to major in vocal music at Western Michigan University. I didn't even go to the audition for choir once I finally arrived on campus. In fact, I only lasted on campus for just shy of a month. It was like an extended summer camp. I quickly moved on to Education, English/Creative Writing, and at one point I seriously considered Political Science so I could go to law school.

When I was 25, I convinced everyone who would listen that I was going to learn how to play the guitar. I pictured myself in coffee shops and churches, playing acoustic versions of meaningful songs and singing away. I learned two chords and took one lesson. Recently, the guitar made its way back to Michigan with a dear friend who promised to give it to someone with more commitment than I seem to possess. Most recently, I bought a sewing machine, though I am not even capable of fixing a button. I'm sure you understand my husband's fear.

Going back to school is a test. I want to see if I finally have what it takes to stick with something and follow through. I want to finish it, so I can show all the people who've been waiting for years that I AM capable of all those wonderful things they said about me.

I wonder what would happen if my 28 year old self could tell my 18 year old self, "You know all those goals you have? You will not actually accomplish a single one." I hope that after seeing the disbelief and tears in my younger self's eyes, my more "mature" self would have the decency to say something reassuring like, "The other things, the goals you haven't created yet but will achieve, will almost make up for all the things you thought you'd do." Except, of course, for school.

I have books. I have pencils. I have little folders--but no Trapper Keeper. I have a flash drive waiting for assignments. And I have a grim--yes, grim--determination to finally follow through.


Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Corinthians 9:24

After only one week of not working, I find myself completely at a loss for things to do. Don't get me wrong--there's plenty to be done--parks, library, swimming, laundry, house cleaning, but no matter how much I accomplish in a day or even afternoon, I feel...lost. Without a purpose. Waiting for something. Something big.

This is not a pity blog. Well, okay, it is (at least for today) a pity post. I am sort of disappointed. Having reached the (non)milestone of 27 1/2, I really thought my life would look different at this point. At the risk of blatantly plagiarizing another's words, it is, as they say, the Summer Of My Discontent. Or at least the week.

We have lived in Colorado for just shy of a year. In that time, we have become much closer to my parents, found (and left) jobs, had minor medical emergencies, huge financial crises, and one weekend that forever changed the shape of our marriage and faith. We've managed to dig ourselves out of tons of situations, only to have more crop up. The ONLY thing that keeps me going is hope. Hope that the purpose will be revealed, hope in a Savior who provides constant comfort, encouragement, and guidance despite the mess, and hope that at some point, we'll stop playing at being grown-ups and give the real thing a try.

There are so many things to be thankful for and look forward to. I am finally going back to school to complete a course of study. I have a demo going in to another radio station out here in Colorado, and maybe (just maybe) an actual teaching job is opening up where Adam is currently employed. I've been able to enjoy some time with Hayden and Hannah that I had previously been only too happy to give up for that almighty dollar.

And yet, there is this tiny little voice back there. The one that says, "You're floundering, you're lost. You have no idea where things are going in your life, and you pretend to raise children while you figure it out." On some days, that voice is louder than anything I can say back to quiet it. And it leaves me feeling not only lost, but completely alone.

So I cling to the Hope. That quiet but strong voice that says, "You are not alone. I am here." And I listen to that voice, despite its volume, because that is the Voice that speaks the Truth. So for now, I'll just keep clinging to that Hope. I've never been the most patient person, but there is some joy in waiting. Watching your kids figure out how to swim simply by being in the water. And finally, FINALLY, hearing a tiny voice calling your name, because it no longer feels strange to them that you are there-- guiding, playing, watching, and enjoying the brief moment of time when your help is still needed. When you, in fact, are still needed. And that quiet but strong voice reminds you that for now, there is more than enough purpose in that.


For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

misplaced:

–verb (used with object), -placed, -plac·ing.

1.

to put in a wrong place.

2.

to put in a place afterward forgotten; lose; mislay.

3.

to place or bestow improperly, unsuitably, or unwisely: to misplace one's trust.

from dictionary.com