Tuesday, December 20, 2016

I am a good mom.

I am a good mom. I am a good mom.

I don't always say those words to myself. I definitely don't always believe them. Sometimes I rehash in my mind all the abysmal words I've told my children in anger that day and I feel the enormous guilt because of it.

Go to your room and be quiet!

All you ever do is un-do something I've just done!

You get the picture. It's not always pretty around here and I wonder when I drag into bed at night what my problem is- why I can't just show them patience and LOVINGLY correct them instead of spouting off what I'm thinking in the moment. Some days are better than others, but I know even on the bad days that I'm a good mom and I'd be willing to bet that you are, too.

Whether you stay at home or work, you're a good mom because you're working hard for your kids. Whether you're waking up early to fix a huge breakfast spread or tossing them goldfish in the car on the way to your first appointment of the day, you're a good mom. Whether you sat down to work that puzzle on the floor or you decided not to because there were dishes to wash, you're a good mom.

I'm not even talking about the mediocrity that we tell ourselves is good enough. The feeling of barely skating by, kids having popcorn for lunch, and/or family prayer time through tears because you want them to know that you are human and you mess up, too and need forgiveness is more than good enough. You (I) may feel like I'm just surviving the day, but you're doing so much more than that.

The impact you have on your kids is priceless, long-lasting, enduring, important.

Sometimes you make cookies with them while simultaneously covering the kitchen in flour and mixed up, sticky cookie dough (b/c Abel is with Daddy, ahem) and sometimes you go get the store bought ones and skip all that (because, hello, easy!).

Sometimes you spend all day cleaning and put them in front of the t.v. to pacify.

Sometimes you get on Pinterest and create all sorts of learning activities for them to do that they'll enjoy.

Being a mom isn't just one day in the life of your kids, so why do we sometimes focus on that one bad day we had where we yelled more than we showed them love? Our job is to imitate Christ so that they will grow to know Him. It's the hardest job because we are flawed individuals, corrupt with sin. We are selfish. Angry. Prideful. But as we guide our kids, our Heavenly Father is guiding and molding us if we stay focused on Him.

The enemy will try to pull you away. He'll whisper in your ear that you're a bad mom. He'll want you to give up, but you won't...

because you're good.

"She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue. She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness." ~ Proverbs 31:27

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Cute, Easy Christmas Cheer



Tis the season to spread Christmas cheer to all! I'm finding that once all the kids are in school, I'm going to be buying my weight's worth in teacher gifts over the years. But there's hardly a more deserving community, eh? Even now, Abel's village is a big one. Between therapists and teachers and specialized doctors, I needed something that I could do for all that they might enjoy or find useful.

If I didn't have four kids, I'd research tutorials on how to make printables so that I could design a perfect one for you to easily print off now. Then again, if I didn't have four kids I probably wouldn't be looking for this same solution either. Alas, I'm not super mommy blogger. BUT I wanted to pass along the Target idea for those of you who might be scrambling around trying to think of something to get to your kids' teachers this week.
I can't believe Christmas break is so soon. It was just Halloween....and Thanksgiving. And even though I put my decorations up sooner than most, I feel like I won't be ready to take them down. My house is bright and cozy with glimmering lights in every room and I'm posting up on the couch with my mudslide coffee and wishing for a slow, happy Christmas with my family.

Now, may the force be with you. May the odds ever be in your favor. Keep truckin'. Pull the truck, duck...and all that other motivating chatter so that you may press on and survive this holiday season while the teachers take time off to be with their own families. Happiest of holidays to you all!

(P.S. If you enjoyed this post, I hope you'll go like my Facebook page. I'm a lot more present on there!)

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Approval

"It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it."

Can we all just soak that in? Really ponder it and be honest with ourselves when we analyze our own responses and reactions to people who have different opinions than us? I've valued those words from Aristotle since undergrad. I've changed a lot since then (thank you, Jesus), but one lesson I began to learn early on is that people get really really worked up when you don't agree with them. The moderate sized university I grew up at (at least a little) was smack in the middle of the bible belt, sure...but it was a university and liberalism seeped into every classroom. Stick with me--I will not be discussing politics, I promise. Due to the nature of my studies, I had many psychology, sociology, and other social science classes. Often topics of morality and politics came up in discussion and I sat around while the more vocal students spoke up with their opinions. Usually it was the more liberal, outspoken students who wanted to share. I considered myself a middle-of-the-road gal myself, but I couldn't stand to listen to only one side of the opinion brought up over and over again knowing that so many of my classmates must be conservative on some topics, at least. I remember vividly the first time I said anything political in class. I was immediately put in a category by some. It was the She-is-a-crazy-right-winger-and-therefore-dumb-and prejudice category. I believe my comment was on education, too. I recall one girl in particular talking about me after class as if I couldn't hear. She flunked out later, much to my delight. But I still remember her at times. I think it was one of the first times, as an adult (again, sort of), that I felt zeroed in on by another woman for no other reason than a difference of opinion on policies in education. You must be thinking, who cares? And I don't care about that particular situation, but what I do care about is the overall theme that keeps creeping back into my days: WHY ARE WOMEN (or people in general) NOT SUPPORTING EACH OTHER?

If I'm speaking candidly, I'll admit I do not give a crap about your opinion on this election. Why though, are we being downright ugly to those who decide to talk about their own opinions that don't line up with our own? Newsflash: There's a way to discuss, if you choose, without being rude, condescending, and mean.

As promised, it's not even about politics per se, it's about the Mean Girls Tendency. Jordan told me a story tonight about a nurse he was working with who said some fightin' words about me, someone she has never met or laid eyes on. I think he had said something along the lines of, "I'm gonna go and get home so I can fix dinner." Jordan enjoys cooking. It's a hobby of his and he does most of the cooking in our home (at dinner time anyway). Her response was, "Does your wife have a job?" When J told her I was a homemaker, she went off on a tangent about how she couldn't stand stay-at-home moms who couldn't actually accomplish X, Y, and Z at the house. My innate, sinful reaction was, "What's her name? What's her number? I will punch her in the face." And I would, y'all...before Jesus. I calmed down quickly enough because the last few days especially I've been in the Word about this very topic. Aren't we the hands and feet of Jesus? Those of us called into His family, aren't we to be loving others as He does? I was so mad at her (ridiculous) comment because it's obvious that she has never done anything like what I do on a daily basis. She couldn't have known that I've not been home at all today because stay-at-home parenting isn't exactly staying at home when you have a child with special needs. Oh, no. The day is spent in the car driving from appointment to appointment. It's spent bouncing the baby through three hours worth of therapy. It's spent managing times for driving to the sitter for one, school for another, stopping to nurse another, and listening while the deaf three year old voices how much he hates being in the car all day at the top of his lungs, for the love. It's spent on hold with insurance companies. It's spent budgeting and balancing the massive medical bills we accrue. That nurse didn't know that I came home today after a long day and started doing the dishes, preparing dinner, and putting four beautiful children to bed by myself. I bet she didn't take into account the time I spent going over my five year old's scripture he's committing to memory even though all I wanted to do was throw everyone in bed and sit down at the tv to shut my mind off. No. Her resounding message was that I was lazy and that just runs all over me. I certainly don't vent to her husband how her job is because...wait for it...I have no idea how hard it must be for her each day. I just trust that it is. I've never met her. I don't know what she's going through. Who am I to judge?



And that is the problem. We form these big opinions from behind our computer screens about what women are supposed to be and we forget to love and support the women right in front of us unless they are exactly like us in every way. A sweet friend recently pointed me toward Galatians 1:10:

"Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people I would not be a servant of Christ."

Do you need applause or likes when you put someone down harshly? I mean that sincerely not confrontationaly. And if I may speak to the other side of this coin, do you (I!) need this person's approval? Why? We needn't place value on the opinions of others apart from God's own opinion. Our identity comes from Him.

What does God say? This verse is plastered around my house because I need it in my role as a mother, but it is applicable in this conversation, too-

"Rather, let it be the inner person of the heart with a gentle and quiet spirit that is precious to God." 1 Peter 3:4

It's the same thing your mama probably taught you- "If you don't have anything good to say then don't say anything at all." I just think that a lot of times we are caught up in being right and loud about it that we forget that the people we are shouting at are people God loves tremendously, too. I'm not advocating that you don't stand up for something you believe in; I'm advocating for growth and appreciation for women (or men) who don't feel like you. Certainly continue challenging your beliefs and know why you feel the way you do, but don't let it compromise your love for following Jesus wholeheartedly. And Jesus loves the sinner. Despite their wrong actions. Despite their shortcomings. Jesus loves us. Amen. I'm so thankful for that love- that my King would die for me. His approval is what I seek. I can't worry about yours. It's a challenge for me every day. My tendency is to base my mood on others and if they're not happy with me then I'm down in the dumps. Almost daily, I have to remind myself that it doesn't matter what the world thinks of me, only God. Some of us aren't cut out for open dialogue on touchy subjects (ahem, me), but we are all cut out to stand for Jesus if He is indeed our King and He is mine. And what He has told me during this election period and during this season of my life is this: I am not called to blindly accept, but instead I'm called to love. If I have beef with someone's misguided opinion, I will focus on that in prayer. Seeing love in action is so much more powerful than someone's opinion being delivered unkindly.

As y'all vote (or whatever), I ask that you remember the people in front of you, beside you. You will still have to live with them despite who is elected. There are good Republicans. There are good Democrats. There are good Independents. There are good white people. There are good black people. There are good people and let's give them the benefit of the doubt.

Sorry for the novel!

Goodnight.

Saturday, October 22, 2016

Postpartum and Pumpkins- a fitness update



It could be that I'm sitting here with a big bag of chocolate and carmel flavored popcorn in my lap (Thanks a lot, Boy Scouts), but I can't seem to get back in shape after this baby. It has only been three months, but with the others I was in better shape by now (at least I was with Merit...and possibly Abel). Perhaps it's because this baby is a girl or maybe it's because I turned thirty while pregnant. I don't know, but I'm not diggin' it. In the past, I could either eat healthy OR workout and stay at an acceptable place in my mind but now it's clear that I will have to do both. Which works out nicely because I just finished the last of that popcorn.
Some have asked me what I'm training for--just life, I guess. I'm having a hard time balancing everything in my life (in case you haven't picked up on that major theme of my blog) and so creating fitness goals and accomplishments are toward the lower end of my to-do lists. I'm just working on number one: trying to keep all the kids alive and relatively psychologically unharmed.
My first love is running. I don't love it while I'm doing it, but I always love it afterwards. It has rebuilt my core each time I've had a baby and it is the best stress relief this mom of four could ask for. It makes me feel alive. It reminds me that I'm so thankful for this body. It makes me want to take care of it even more. So while I do like to do races, it's not a huge deal to me. I've done a few 5Ks recently and have gotten an itch to try another half marathon soon, too.



Kacy's 5K record: 26:52
Kacy's Half record: 2:21:36

I think that's why I would like to try another half--because I know I can break that record right now in the shape I'm in. I'm entertaining the idea of running one in November, but I also need to make sure that is in the funds! Racing can get expensive, huh? I try to do races that are raising money for causes that I'm passionate about. A loose goal of mine is to make the most out of this fall running season.


Many of you have asked me to share my fitness progress and workouts with you during the postpartum period. My biggest secret is to just get active. It doesn't matter if the time you dedicate to changing your body isn't all at once. That's the biggest struggle when you have kids around. You try to spend at least 30 consecutive minutes working out, but someone needs their diaper changed, someone clotheslines someone else cuing tears, or someone sends a ball rolling right under your feet in the middle of your burpee causing you to face plant. It can be so frustrating if you're looking at a clock--so don't. Just as Rome wasn't built in a day, your body won't be either. If all you have are small increments of time then use what you have. Furthermore, get creative! Use the playground, do squats as you dry your hair, move constantly as you fold the laundry, DANCE! Lately, I've been using the pumpkins we have decorating our porch right now and so I thought I'd share one of the exercises with you-




For more peeks at some of the stuff that inspires me to get fit, see my fitness board on Pinterest.

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

The Seesaw

Up and down, up and down goes the seesaw. Sometimes the moments of the day are uplifting- a chat with a friend on the phone, the kids have a brief moment of camaraderie, or you see the exact point in time when your kiddo figures something out for the first time. Maybe your up is that everyone is napping at the same time or at least one person says, "Thanks for making me lunch, Mom." There are ups, for sure.
But boy are there downs. This morning before I could enjoy a whole cup of hot coffee, Abel decided to poop...in the front yard. Today before I could take a shower or put myself together to tackle the day with all four kids home due to various sicknesses, I set and then waited through an entire kitchen timer only to discover that I never actually put the food in the oven to bake.
I spent the day holding my babies and trying to stay above water with all the cleaning and organizing my home begs to have. We made it through the day and each of us had a pretty good one. I was feeling confident that I balanced cleaning, parenting, and time for myself like a champ. Everyone was on the mend and things were looking up! I was up. Refreshed. Happy, even. I left to pick up some things at the store and when I returned I came home to a wailing Abel who had thrown off his cochlear implant and was signing hurt all over his body. He's getting warmer as the evening wears on and I have that pain in my chest. Heavy with worry and stress, I am down again.

Every day I walk by this plant and it reminds me of me. A little water and it perks right up and begins to appear taken care of. Then, sadly, it goes without water for a long time and begins to droop. Despite the lack of care shown to the plant, it stays alive. It holds on. It stays green. It grows even when I think there's no way it can. I see myself in the plant because I do that to myself, too. Instead of waking up and pouring Truth into my life to refresh me, I sometimes sit there and think about all the unpleasant things the day might bring. I'll live in fear- should I not have said that? What if this happens? What if that happens? Instead of living in faith that the Lord I serve loves me and this family of mine more than I do, I often focus on darker thoughts. What if Merit has Lyme Disease? What if Kinley's eye infection isn't pink eye at all? What if he's allergic to these drops? What if he's going blind? What if Abel's ear is infected again? What if it travels to his brain? What if his bionic ear fails? What if Saylor isn't even breathing in her bed right now? The weight of motherhood is crushing. I'm not called to worry, though. Quite the opposite.
I daily have to orient my beliefs to the positive. Hourly. This is the way Satan attacks me, through my thoughts. I've always struggled with anxiety. I care too much what all of you people think about me that I daily have to remind myself that it only matters what God sees. I care a great deal about this family that I worry myself into a panic attack when one of them is threatened in some way. It became a recognizable problem the first time I was postpartum and really hasn't had a chance to work its way out of my body with each passing pregnancy. It's hormones, it's circumstance, but it's the enemy, too. 

I want to highlight the good- to savor it when I see it. While tonight has been somber for me, today was good. The Lord has provided us with food-

and lots of land to play on and discover.

He gave me rare, but much needed quiet time-

and He whispered in my ear in that still small voice that I am loved by the Creator of the Universe. I am loved. My family is loved. Up and down. Up and down. Either way, we're all okay.

The Seesaw

Up and down, up and down goes the seesaw. Sometimes the moments of the day are uplifting- a chat with a friend on the phone, the kids have a brief moment of camaraderie, or you see the exact point in time when your kiddo figures something out for the first time. Maybe your up is that everyone is napping at the same time or at least one person says, "Thanks for making me lunch, Mom." There are ups, for sure.
But boy are there downs. This morning before I could enjoy a whole cup of hot coffee, Abel decided to poop...in the front yard. Today before I could take a shower or put myself together to tackle the day with all four kids home due to various sicknesses, I set and then waited through an entire kitchen timer only to discover that I never actually put the food in the oven to bake.
I spent the day holding my babies and trying to stay above water with all the cleaning and organizing my home begs to have. We made it through the day and each of us had a pretty good one. I was feeling confident that I balanced cleaning, parenting, and time for myself like a champ. Everyone was on the mend and things were looking up! I was up. Refreshed. Happy, even. I left to pick up some things at the store and when I returned I came home to a wailing Abel who had thrown off his cochlear implant and was signing hurt all over his body. He's getting warmer as the evening wears on and I have that pain in my chest. Heavy with worry and stress, I am down again.

Every day I walk by this plant and it reminds me of me. A little water and it perks right up and begins to appear taken care of. Then, sadly, it goes without water for a long time and begins to droop. Despite the lack of care shown to the plant, it stays alive. It holds on. It stays green. It grows even when I think there's no way it can. I see myself in the plant because I do that to myself, too. Instead of waking up and pouring Truth into my life to refresh me, I sometimes sit there and think about all the unpleasant things the day might bring. I'll live in fear- should I not have said that? What if this happens? What if that happens? Instead of living in faith that the Lord I serve loves me and this family of mine more than I do, I often focus on darker thoughts. What if Merit has Lyme Disease? What if Kinley's eye infection isn't pink eye at all? What if he's allergic to these drops? What if he's going blind? What if Abel's ear is infected again? What if it travels to his brain? What if his bionic ear fails? What if Saylor isn't even breathing in her bed right now? The weight of motherhood is crushing. I'm not called to worry, though. Quite the opposite.
I daily have to orient my beliefs to the positive. Hourly. This is the way Satan attacks me, through my thoughts. I've always struggled with anxiety. I care too much what all of you people think about me that I daily have to remind myself that it only matters what God sees. I care a great deal about this family that I worry myself into a panic attack when one of them is threatened in some way. It became a recognizable problem the first time I was postpartum and really hasn't had a chance to work it's way out of my body with each passing pregnancy. It's hormones, it's circumstance, but it's the enemy, too. 

I want to highlight the good- to savor it when I see it. While tonight has been somber for me, today was good. The Lord has provided us with food-

and lots of land to play on and discover.

He gave me much needed quiet time-

and He whispered in my ear in that still small voice that I am loved by the Creator of the Universe. I am loved. My family is loved. Up and down. Up and down. Either way, we're all okay.

Friday, September 30, 2016

When Your Purpose is Tied Up in Someone Else

Is the title too melodramatic? I don't mean it to be. I just woke up before the sun, busying myself with getting everyone prepared for their days and I felt the familiar tug of longing. Everyone is taken care of so I can finally sit down with a warm cup of coffee and this keyboard and try to get all of this out in a way that won't ruffle feathers. If you think this title is pathetic or want to spout feminism chants at me then I hope you'll pause and imagine what it would feel like to truly know that about yourself.
I had a few years of my life that I had the stereotypical mindset of many psych majors--"I want to help people!" There's nothing wrong with that. It sounds great, but many of my professors would encourage me to think of another reason for wanting to study psychology. I can see why they would say that now.
After I graduated, I got a job working as a counselor to drug addicts. I knew it would be a challenging community to tackle, but I had no idea how much it would drain me. I embarrassingly quickly gave up on trying to change these people and developed this mindset-
and I knew it was time to hang up my hat. I turned in my notice and applied to graduate school. My plan was to study marriage and family therapy techniques and focus on what I thought (and still do!) was the most important catalyst for change, the family.
By this point, I had met J and we were pretty serious. He was deployed so I had plenty of time to work on this degree. He got home from Iraq a year later and my purpose began to shift in my eyes. I put my studying on hold to welcome him home, set up our lives together and get married to a man in uniform. When he was away, I knew it was because he was doing something important. He was training people who were heading off to war. He was serving. If he was stateside, he was a link in the proverbial chain and he was needed therefore I felt like I was doing something important. Being married to the military is a difficult task at times. You have to hold the fort down while they're gone. You might be given roles to help support all the wives that are left behind during a deployment. You might me appointed to help with fundraising for your significant other's company. The point is that I developed a bit of identity in being an Army wife and thus Mrs. K and Captain J was born. That was something for me. I love to write and starting that blog gave me an outlet. It also allowed me to make a little money and that gave me the feeling that I was contributing in a small way. Still, I hated that I started something I didn't finish so I continued to study to obtain my graduate degree from a different school.
My kids came along, one right after the other, and I settled into the idea that my purpose is in them. I know it is. But that makes for some lonely days. Now when my husband goes off to work as a civilian and has to work long hours, I don't have that cushion that makes me feel better about it because he's off working to help keep America's soldiers safe. So I'm annoyed. I look around and see all these beautiful kids and know that I should be doing X, Y, and Z to prepare them to be contributing, functioning adults and more importantly, to introduce them to the only One who can give them purpose in this life. But man is it lonely. I know I have plenty of mom acquaintances who know this, but because my kids are so close together (not school age) and one of them has special needs (lots of weekly appointments), I know that my job is here at home. I don't get paid for the work I'm doing and therefore I don't always feel like my job is contributing. There's nothing wrong with being a mom and having a job. Just as there's nothing wrong with being called to not have a job outside of my kids. I struggle with my calling. I've always been envious of those people who have always known what they were supposed to do with their lives- teachers, pharmacists, whatever. I know my purpose (at least for now) rests solely in four little hearts. It doesn't make me any more or any less than anyone else, but I do struggle with feeling slightly empty. When you don't get to go to the bathroom by yourself, shower, spend time getting dressed, be able to study the bible alone, or especially just have ten minutes where no one is asking anything pressing of you, you start to internalize that you don't deserve help. You are the help. You do it all. You exist for everyone else. There's nothing special about you. That's why it becomes lonely. I'm surrounded by little people who need me and a bunch of others who probably don't even see me until I lose my mind and quit washing the dishes, the laundry, or the babies.
But I just try to speak truth into my own life when I'm feeling this way--

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interest...have the same mindset as Christ Jesus..." *He made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant! (see Philippians 2:3-8)

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." (Galatians 2:20)

My purpose is as a wife and mother right now and that's okay. Maybe that will change and maybe it won't.

Whatever you are called to in this point of your life, work at it as if you're working for the Lord (because you are! See Colossians 3:23).

I work hard. I love hard. I have to die to myself daily. That's the hardest part. The selfishness is strong in me, but I know my children deserve the best so I'll keep fighting these feelings of loneliness, emptiness, and longing. Sometimes all it takes is picking my sweet three month old off of her play mat and looking into her big innocent eyes, watching her coo and kick, and remembering that this is what life is all about. I can slow down for today. It's Friday after all and I've been solo parenting all week long. I'll just scoop up my kids this morning, hold them and show them how loved they are by me and their Heavenly Father. Because this stage of my life is important, too and I will miss it when it's gone. 

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Feels like '98

Can we talk about this?


We know the mainstream media strays away from good news. Perhaps that's why that momentous occasion wasn't discussed. Despicable.

Anyway, I was sooo that obnoxious TN fan on Saturday night calling everyone and singing Rocky Top. It was much more than a game. It was eleven Saturdays over the stretch of many years of losing to the team that you were trained all your life to hate (slight exaggeration- only slight). It was eleven years of saying, "We'll get em next year." The last time we beat Florida I was a totally different person. In 2004, I was a freshman in college....


I didn't have degrees, babies, my husband. I hardly remember who I was in that photo above, but I remember how ecstatic I was in that moment when we realized we won. I was as happy as I look! And this past Saturday I kept saying, "Is this really happening?" It was hard to process, coming from a girl who used to enjoy weekly season tickets and hardly missed a game growing up. I haven't been able to go to any games between moving around with the Army and having children, but I always kept a watchful eye on my Vols. Even when I lived in Alaska and didn't have tv (and probably wouldn't have ever gotten to watch a game anyway), I would sign in to the world wide web despite the four hour time difference and munch on wings and beer at 8am as I watched the football symbol go back and forth and the score numbers going up and changing as the game went on in Knoxville. It felt like a lifetime away from me. In those moments, I sure wished I was on ole Rocky Top down in the Tennessee hills.

This Saturday was a homecoming. 

Here's the best article I've seen on it: Why The End of the Streak Should Matter to You by Loudon's own Tyler Wombles 

It has always been great to be a Tennessee Vol, but it was extra great this weekend. And my how things have changed!



So excuse me while I do my happy dance. The streak is over! The duck pulled the truck. 

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

How I Do It

There are countless posts that go un-published here. Most seemed too complainy and others were too dark. You know, there's so much you don't see behind the scenes of our lives and I hope I'm not alone in that. I try to be transparent, to let the copious amounts of people who say, "I don't know how you do it" in on the fact that I'm far from perfect. I struggle emotionally, spiritually, and with just about every facet of parenting. Every day I'm reminded how unbelievably hard it is to be a parent in todays world. There's a spotlight on all the time that flashes toward me when I send the kids outside to play to grow up as we did or our parents did, away from computer screens. They're in the mud, they're running through the tall grass where snakes could be. They're creating their own games and probably being a little mean to one another, too. Then the spot lights whips around to the other side of the spectrum, the helicopter part of many mothers. People criticize when you are three steps away from your kid on the playground, ready to catch any possible fall. They wonder why you want to get involved when they butt heads with a kid at school. It's a catch twenty two. No one is ever doing it right. 

If the stress of trying to measure up with the world isn't enough, imagine how much I dwell on desiring to please an Almighty God while battling the sin that is in my nature. I see the actions of my kids and feel as if it is a direct reflection of me, of our family. This weight is heavy, y'all. If there's one thing I know I'm doing as a stay-at-home mom, it's that I'm daily showing my children my own desperate need for Jesus. They see me in the Word and they see me failing. They hear me asking for forgiveness when I lose my temper with them and they hear it again when we're praying. I screw up all the time. Just as Paul said in Romans 7:15 "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." I want to be a certain type of mother- a pinterest creative type who schools her children happily and inspires in them the desire to be outside, work with their hands, and get to know God. The mother I want to be has her children memorizing verses of the Bible, hiding God's word in their hearts from an early age. She does this all while juggling appointments, hearing equipment, and unending patience with her special needs son. She also manages the house and welcomes her hard working husband home with open arms and serves him readily, too. Does this woman exist? I don't know. Maybe I don't want to know. 
I just want to be holy and blameless before God at the end of this life. I want my kids to grow up to be decent human beings and to become disciples and fishers of men. That's why I'm here. I don't want to fail at this. And every single day I go to bed feeling like I am. That's why this is hard. The rocking multiple little ones, wiping noses and bottoms, preparing food that noses are turned up at, washing a million items of clothing a week, cleaning spit up off the floors hourly, and all the other things you couldn't dream up that my children could get into- those are challenging. But when I step back and look at the whole picture, I realize that none of that matters if my kids don't grow up and decide to follow Jesus. If they don't know him, it doesn't matter that their butt had a $15 diaper on it. It doesn't matter if I grow all their food from the ground in our backyard. It won't make a difference if they were potty trained at two or ten. If we don't have Him, we have nothing.
So this is how I do it. It's one day at a time. One hour at a time. Trial and error. Lot of prayers. Forgiveness. Perseverance. Grace. 
I'm really hoping I'm not alone in this....and if I am, well, maybe just keep that to yourself.

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Postpartum Progress (Part 1)

Hey, friends. I've been writing this blog post in my head for awhile. I've had time to think about it each time I went to the gym or for a long walk when I was very pregnant. I thought about this process for nine months as my body grew with our growing daughter. I definitely thought about it at week 39 when I went on a run at nine months pregnant. During my entire pregnancy, I was adamant to stay active because I knew it would help baby and me. Postpartum rebound is here. I'm happy about that! It feels good to know that I can lose weight and tone again. But I'll be honest, it hasn't gone as I expected. The weight isn't falling off as quickly as I hoped. But that is part of the process, right? And so when some of you asked me specifically to document my postpartum progress (Hi, Katie!), I knew it was time to start writing it down. I've been snapping photos for documentation purposes, but I didn't post them until now because I don't feel like I have anything to be proud of yet. It's difficult to feel proud when there's so little time to exercise my body, sweat, and have something to show for it.
The hardest part of getting fit with four children is relying on other people for my fitness. It probably sounds like a cop out to you...and maybe it is. But I truly don't think I can workout with all of them here. I try and it's so ridiculous. Do a few moves, change a diaper. Do another, wipe a noise and break up a toy scuffle. Insert screaming and you don't have a relaxing, sweat burning workout at all. It's more of a mental exercise in not throwing in the towel and checking yourself into the nuthouse. When I workout, that's my ME TIME. I enjoy being alone for an hour a day and running, lifting weights, or anything of the sort. It gives me something to work toward. As a stay at home mom, your job is never done. Never. So I cleaned the kitchen and it's sparkling? Well, now it's lunch time so I have to prepare food and clean it all up again...and while I was cleaning that kitchen? Yeah, you guessed it. The children were destroying the downstairs. With running or lifting weights, I can set a mile goal or make out an exercise plan and ACTUALLY ACHIEVE IT. It gives me just a tiny break of sanity as a list maker. Maybe you're one of those people, too who find enjoyment in checking off something on their list of things to do? Well, by the time I check off laundry, clean kitchen, clean toilet, whatever....it's time to write it down again because it's not ever done. A workout for the day IS done. At five weeks postpartum, I'm still stuck in a bit of a rut because I feel like I need a babysitter in order to get my sweat on! And if you know anything about my life, you know I don't have those much! Ha.
But in order to be successful, I need goals. Because I'm supposed to wait until 6 weeks postpartum, I've been taking it fairly easy. As I approach being cleared for exercise, I've been thinking about some goals. Here are my stats:

Weight: 131
Goal: 120
Lost to date: 19 lbs

What have I been doing?
Mostly running (ok, pathetic jogging and mostly walking)

The plan?
Raise my self esteem by exercising and remembering what this body can do! I AM proud that I've carried four children in my womb and now I want to focus on creating a capable body again, one that can go hike 10 miles in the Smokies if I feel like it without getting too winded. I want to not be self conscious when I'm in a bathing suit and trying to play on the beach with my kids. I definitely don't want to pass along my abysmal body image to my daughter (or three boys for that matter). The plan is to feel good...and I truly don't care about the scale. I just use it as a reference point.

How will I get there?
Well, for the month of August, I'm focusing on baby steps. Little, achievable goals are what I'm starting with.
1. Drink 8+ glasses of water daily
2. 50 miles in August
3. Grace

Grace means that I remember that I just had a beautiful baby girl and the changes in my body are more than worth it. I've gotten back in shape three times after a baby and I can do it again. One foot in front of the other.

Time to get to work! I'll share workouts, progress, and additional thoughts on health and fitness as the months pass by. 

Monday, August 1, 2016

Mission Field

"As women who work hard to serve others day and night, we tend to forget that we have this opportunity because of God's mercy on us. From children underfoot or away at school to the ladies we disciple and witness to in the workplace and community, our nurturing work is a gift. We all have a need to repent of our feelings of entitlement. We do not deserve to be used by God. We do not deserve to be ambassadors of Christ in our homes, workplaces, neighborhoods, or generations. We do not deserve to be given spiritual gifts with which to serve the church. We do not deserve to be included in God's mission to the world, period. Yet, it pleases Him to include us." 

- Gloria Furman via Missional Motherhood

Because my crew is young, four of them seems like a lot. I get it. It is a lot for me to handle, for sure. But because there are so many of them that can't tie their shoes (or put them on for that matter!), I get many questions from people out in town. One of the most popular ones is "How do you do it?" The short answer is: I don't know. 



I really don't. By 9am, so many unthinkable things have already popped up in my day that I find this discontent and anger bubbling up that this is my job right now. Potty training. Picky eaters. Spit up. Screaming as communication. Silly screaming competitions with brothers. LOUDNESS. Forget trying to accomplish something. This is why the laundry stays piled up and only necessary cleaning gets done. There are many times I spend my days wondering if I'm even making a positive difference in their lives or if they feel I'm an emotionless presence that either bends to their will or enforces mean (in their mind) rules. All it takes to turn the day around is a visit to God's word, though. Who am I that He chose me for them? Who am I to be good enough to be on this missionfield for God? This. These kids. They're my CALLING. I didn't envision this for myself, but God did and He chose me specifically. That's how I do it. I was created for it and I'm up for the challenge--for this blessing.



I still spend nap time begging for sleep...and actual patience (NOT opportunities to be patient. I have plenty of those!)...and for my thoughts to be of Him and this mission...a change in my thoughts and therefore my attitude....and for my words to be life giving.

This is hard.

But one day, I'm going to wake up and they won't need me as much. They'll unbuckle themselves and get out of the car on their own. They will bathe themselves. They'll talk. They'll communicate. They'll drive themselves to their appointments. They'll go off to college and leave me. And the thought of a quiet house that seems so amazing to me right now, might just leave me in tears because these pieces of my heart will walk out into the world on their own and go in different directions. I just hope they will take a piece of me with them. That they will see Jesus in me somehow. That they will chase after Him when they leave here. That's what I'm doing.

Friday, July 22, 2016

A day in the life

Because why wouldn't you wake up bright and early, go find the hot sauce and empty over half of it into a glass of sparkling water and on your little brother? I mean why not? It's like this every day, every hour that I'm with my dear second born. I think he is the reason I feel stretched to my limit every single day. And sometimes it just all gets to me. Yesterday was that day. I have to have one of those every once in awhile I guess. I'm sitting here with my second cup of coffee and despite the laundry and dishes piling up, I feel the need to write. My blog has become a place for Abel updates when I used to talk about our latest adventures all over the country. I know it's not exciting but it keeps my sanity and provides a record when my brain is foggy and I feel like he isn't progressing at all. Thank you to those of you who still check in with us despite my lack of exciting updates.
I tried to be in a good mood yesterday. I woke up and read my bible and the promises of to whom I belong. I was feeling humbled and good. I went to get dressed and ended up spending an embarrassingly long time trying to get ready, all with four children vying for my attention. It took so long because I was feeling really down about my postpartum body. My old clothes don't fit and my pregnancy ones don't either. With everything going on around me, I just wanted to feel confident in my appearance but everything I put on whispered that I was just another mom who has let herself go. One who hardly gets to shower because she's so focused on her little ones. One who doesn't know what an acceptable price is for mascara because who has time to buy/apply it anyway? One who doesn't have a life outside of her 24/7 job of raising kids. One who isn't so good at raising kids anyway. I mean, why is it so difficult to potty train a three (nearing four) year old? Why is it that the same child thought it was okay to bite his friend at school over a toy the day before? He's three. He should not be biting...or pooping himself...or struggling with speaking phrases. He should be speaking in sentences.
Obviously, my thoughts aren't entirely sensible right now but they carry much truth, too. I'm exhausted by his disability. I feel really alone. I don't know anyone who is in my position- caring for a bunch of small children, one of which has a cochlear implant and is still significantly behind his peers in language, communication, behavior, and motor skills. In a few months, we'll be celebrating his two year hearing birthday and while he has definitely made progress, his cochlear implant peers are leaps and bounds ahead of him. I see it twice weekly. When he goes to group therapy, there's a room beside his with a window and speaker that I can watch the session from. As I walk him in, I greet his peers with a "Hi! How are you today?" and you know what? They respond. "I'm good." They don't have to be told to say it. They know what I'm asking. Abel still stares blankly when he is asked questions by most people. It makes me want to cry because I'm doing everything I can do for him and I just feel tapped out.
I'm not writing for pity. I certainly don't need that. I have a beautiful, healthy, spunky boy who is very loving to his mama. He is the first one to require a hug, stroke my hair and pull my cheek to his lips for a kiss. I'm his person and I love him more than I could ever say...but caring for him day in and day out is physical and mentally draining me. I want to be better for him, but I feel like my hands are tied.
Yesterday as I was battling these thoughts, I was also on my way to therapy. I got in the car to find my gas light on and my tire pressure light lit up. I drove to the nearest gas station despite having no time built into my schedule to do that. I pulled up to fill the tank and my card was declined twice so I picked another card and made a mental note to find out why. As I was getting gas, I found a dollar for the air machine (Score!) but I knew I needed quarters. I began asking the folks around me for change but no one had enough quarters. They said I could just have the ones they did have but I didn't want to do that so I began unloading the kids so I could go inside the gas station to get the change I needed. Finally, with fifteen minutes before I had to be at his first appointment in Knoxville, I pulled up to the air machine and guess what? They had changed it from $1.00 to $1.50 because of course they did. I drove to OT with a deflating tire and a deflating positive outlook.
By the way, the reason my card was declined was because someone stole my info and bought $720 worth of school supplies. Which is so poetic, right? Someone with 85 kids apparently is sending them  all away on my dime. The stay-at-home mom who can't wait to usher her brood of kids into the hands of more capable teachers than herself. Ha! What a freakin' day.

Saturday, July 9, 2016

Birth Story #4

I have practiced great restraint in not flooding all my social media accounts with pictures of the last forty eight hours. It has been a challenge because I just want to shout from the roof tops about Mama's little girl. She is so perfect, y'all! My heart is bursting with love for my growing family and I'm so SO happy to not be pregnant anymore. I guess all I needed to do was write to all of you that I was going to be pregnant forever because about an hour after I selected "publish" on the last blog post, I was in active labor.
I started timing my contractions around 8:40pm that evening. I didn't think much of it because I have literally been doing that for at least a month. Typically these contractions would last for hours, were long, and super close together. The ones that began on Thursday evening were much shorter, but they weren't easing up if I got into labor positions, went about with chores, or when I got in the bath. They didn't feel much different, but something in my brain told me this time was the real deal. We were worried about this because of how close we came to delivering Merit in the car so before an hour was even up, I was texting my sister to ask her if she might take me to the hospital to get checked out. I didn't want Jordan to have to leave the kids who were already in bed because a false alarm would mean I had roused four different people to help. I continued to pack my bag and began to wonder if I didn't have Jordan come, too that he might miss the birth of our daughter.
I typically have what is called precipitous labor. That means that from the onset of contractions, I have the baby in my arms in three hours or less. I know that sounds amazing to many of you who labor long and hard (and I am NOT complaining!) but it isn't without drawbacks. For starters, the contractions come on so quickly that my body doesn't have a chance to build up to the pain. I'm uncomfortable with contractions for a short time and then BAM, worst pain of my life. The pain never eases, either. It just keeps coming, wave upon wave, with no time to recover in between. Thursday night was no different.
My sister and I arrived at the hospital around 10:45pm. I was feeling pretty good as I was able to walk in without too much trouble and get situated in triage to be checked out. Relief was flooding through me as I was pretty sure I was actually in labor and I was so happy to have made it in plenty of time to have a baby in a fairly controlled environment. I told the intake nurse of my previous experiences with precipitous labor and she checked me and saw that I was dilated 3cm. She told me she didn't feel comfortable sending me home with my history and that was good because I wasn't going anywhere but the parking lot to wait it out if they kicked me out! I knew my body this time.
I was only in triage a few minutes before they were ushering me to a new room of my own. I walked down the hallway and told them I didn't want an epidural while I was still in my right mind to say so. I got changed and hooked up to the fetal monitor and she checked me again. I was at 4cm. At this point, I was still able to talk a bit in between the strongest parts of the contractions, but that was quickly changing. Thankfully, Jordan decided to ask his parents to come over to watch our other children shortly after I left the house so he was right behind us. He came in smiling and ready to welcome our fourth child and I again felt encouraged that everything was working out nicely and timely! My water broke around this time, too. It was nothing like it had been with the others, but it was enough to demonstrate to the new nurse taking over my care that this was going to happen quickly. I remember someone asking her how many babies she had caught (she said 8) and then I remember her trying to make sure the doctor on call was on her way to the hospital. My mom arrived shortly after this and I was at 6cm and VERY much in pain. I began to do that thing I hate: question myself. Why didn't I get an epidural? Can I even do this? What was I thinking? I can't do this. So it was nice to see three familiar faces cheering me on. Jordan reminded me that I am a rockstar. Mom reminded me when I needed to breathe. And Paige was thinking of keeping me cool with ice chips and wet rags. EVERYone told me that I was doing great and it was something I needed to hear. A couple minutes later, I'm telling everyone I feel pressure and that I was going to have to push soon so she checked me again and I was at 8cm. That was encouraging! I knew she would be here soon and I could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel. I asked Jordan to pray over me and that gave me the final strength I would need to get through. I don't really recall if anyone ever told me I was fully dialated or effaced, but obviously my body knew as it involuntarily started to push shortly after. The "ring of fire" was full force and I couldn't get anyone to tell me "Yes, I'll catch your baby!" The bed wasn't even broken down and I'm saying, "Where is the doctor?!" (because I knew the nurses weren't supposed to encourage a woman to push when a doctor isn't present) There were at least four nurses in the room and all of them avoided my questions until finally my mom spoke up and one of them said, "We are prepared for whatever you have to do at this time." How political of them! ;)
That's all I needed. I pushed a few times through the worst pain I've ever felt and suddenly every single night I tossed and turned, largely pregnant with our daughter didn't matter. Because I felt amazing. At 12:06am on July 8th, I brought my fourth child into the world! There's no greater feeling.
As they placed her on my chest, one of them said with a bit of alarm, " Look, there's a "true knot." I looked down to find that the umbilical cord was tied in a knot--a tight one. I didn't think much of it because of the high I was experiencing, but later I found out the dangers of having one. It turns out that she likely tangled it up by flipping around inside me and most babies who do this die in utero. I didn't tell many people, but on July 4th I came home from a parade and mourned for two hours because I just had an awful feeling that she was gone. I couldn't get her to move after trying everything and I just laid there clutching my stomach and praying. She finally moved and I tried not to worry any more after that, but when I saw that knot my sweet girl made it through I was so relieved and thankful to God for allowing me to have her with me. "For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and sound mind" (2 Timothy 1:7). She's here, y'all and this mama is as happy as can be.

We are home and all back together and doing great. Thanks to each of you for your kind words of congrats on IG and Facebook!

Thursday, July 7, 2016

I was told there'd be glowing....



There's no glowing. There's only me...busting out of raincoats, sweating rather grotesquely from the heat and hormones, and still learning important lessons like don't wear baggy shirts when you have a baby the size of a watermelon up them. It's not pretty. Nothing is pretty right now, in fact. 
I am miserable.
I know, I know. It's almost over. I'm being a baby. There are worse things in the world. All of these things I know. None of them help my situation. Every night, pain radiates from my back to my belly and lasts a minute or so and happens every two to three minutes. It tricks my hopeful little brain into thinking that I might have a sweet girl in my arms soon instead of pressing on every major organ inside me. This has been going on for weeks and weeks. It certainly feels as if I'll be pregnant forever.
I went to the doctor today and she tells me as she has for three weeks in a row that I'm dilated NOT EVEN TWO cm and there's no change. It's pretty discouraging because my braxton hicks contractions can take my breath away. It feels like it's all for nothing at this point. Still, I hesitate to accept her offer of additional measures because I truly want her to come when she's ready. I've never been this pregnant and soon my due date will come and go. Meanwhile, my back is killing me and it feels like a bowling ball is about to fall out of me. Additionally, I can hardly find a comfortable position sitting or laying but my body is screaming at me to relax. I can't even, y'all.
I can't even.

Rant over.

But yes, I'm still pregnant in case you were wondering.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

37 Weeks

It looks like I'm going to be pregnant for awhile longer. I recently left my thirty seven week appointment and I am halfway effaced and not even two centimeters. Sorry, I know this talk grosses some people out so there's your cue to not read on. It is discouraging, for sure. I've not been feeling stellar lately, but on Sunday during church I started feeling like I might pass out and was having lots of contractions. Most of them were just taking my breath away, but they didn't hurt. They were about five minutes apart. I started feeling less of them as the afternoon wore on and by nightfall, I wasn't having any. Then Monday and Tuesday night, they were back with a vengeance. In fact, last night I was ready to go to the hospital, laying out contacts and clothes that weren't pajamas so that I could slip them on when I woke up in the middle of the night in pain. That didn't happen, though. Each night, I find it hard to breathe, get comfortable or sleep. I have back pain and contractions that seem to be getting stronger, but not strong enough yet. The contractions last for hours and are 2-3 minutes apart ranging from 30-60 seconds long. I keep track of them because this is how labor came on with Merit. I got so used to doing this same scenario for weeks that I wasn't sure when I was actually in labor! The contractions, pain, and pressure are confusing. It's a bit unnerving for me because of the last two close calls we've had with getting to the hospital. But I know she'll come when she's supposed to so I will keep soldiering on as best I can. I just wanted to update each of you who have asked. I'm still pregnant and I'm getting quite miserable, but apparently it's not quite time yet. 
As if our lives aren't up in the air enough waiting on baby, we've been making some major changes in our house this week. New floors for our kitchen were becoming a necessity after discovering a leak we caught too late. When we got those done, we thought "Well, the appliances are already out. Perhaps we should go ahead and replace those. While we're at it, some new paint and hardware for these cabinets would look nice. Also, let's finally sheetrock the stairwell to the basement and slap some paint on that, too." So, there you have it. You knew we were crazy already, but now it's confirmed. We're on the cusp of welcoming baby number four in less than five years and our house is a construction zone of dust, paint, and disconnected appliances.
I'm tired, y'all.

37 Week Questions:

Baby is the size of a: tackle box or a winter melon
Weight: 151 (up thirty one pounds)
Cravings: I don't care about food anymore. I just need to eat it, but I don't always want to. My belly is so huge and tight, I don't want to put anything into it because it just causes more discomfort.
Stretch Marks: Nothing new
Exercise: I've been to workout a couple of times. Sometimes just walking, sometimes taking short jogs and incorporating weights, too. If I'm feeling good enough to exercise, it's a good day.
New Things: Pressure. Baby feels so low.
What's going on with her? Baby's lungs are likely mature now!
What I miss: rolling over in bed without wincing in pain
What I'm looking forward to: Postpartum exercise


Sunday, June 5, 2016

What if she's deaf? Thoughts on Baby #4

I'm five weeks or less from meeting my newest little gift from above and I haven't even considered my thoughts on if she'll be deaf or not. That is definitely uncharacteristic of me, but I think it probably has everything to do with the power of God inside me. He hasn't let me worry about that. I've had so much going on, so many other thoughts to attend to.

I'm thinking about it now, though-- and it sort of seems like it's just another pondering. Will she have curly hair? Will she even have hair? What will her nose look like? Will she be hearing or deaf? Five weeks out and I think I'm okay. I haven't worried about it. It's incredible. Of course, this could change between now and then. I know I'll be so nervous during the hearing test. And truly, I don't want her to have hearing loss because I believe life is easier without having that hurdle, but I hope if I hear those words again, "Your baby is deaf" that I will be at ease, happy even because I finally have a little girl in my arms that God created perfectly.

When I had Merit, we were two weeks away from having Abel implanted with bi-lateral cochlear implants. The weight of the world was on my shoulders and all the hearing tests, surgeries, ear infections, hearing aids, and therapies were fresh on my mind. When the lady took him away to do the hearing test, I had told her about Abel and she could likely feel my anxiety. When she brought my sweet boy back to me she did so with a smile and an encouraging word that he probably only failed because he had so much fluid still in his little head from coming so quickly into this world. My heart ached for him as I stared at his perfect, tiny little newborn head and thought about them cutting into it. Other hearing tests were set up and I tried to push it from my mind. I began to notice him startling at sounds and my hope was restored a bit as we geared up for a very long surgery for my (less than) two year old. As you probably know, it turned out that Merit could hear. The point is that there was a tinge of doubt and fear. With baby #4, I have much more peace. Still there are thoughts surfacing. Even now as I type I'm hoping this blog post isn't some foreshadowing of what's to come in our lives. But what I feel right now is comfort in God's plan for her. I'm excited to meet her and find out more about her and who she'll become.

This weekend as I've watched my deaf child seem more and more like a happy, "normal" child and multiple friends have commented this week that they can see a marked difference in his progress, I've been able to see past the struggles we've had over the last three years. Abel is waking up and conversing with his older brother, playing, and laughing like he gets to grow up with his best friend. Can I tell you how incredible it makes this mama feel? I used to worry so much about his relationship to his brothers. I didn't want him to lack communication in any way, but instead I think he's teaching us so much more than we are teaching him.

It is well with my soul.

Kinley Jordan- 2011

Abel Elias- 2012

Merit Kimsey- 2014


"For God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and self-discipline."
1 Timothy 1:7

 
Designed By Poppiness Designs