Story of Us

My bare feet are propped up on the railing of a lanai in Central India. The breeze, while warm to me, has the locals in their winter wear. I feel it rolling off the water in front of me as I look out and see the most vast, open, unpopulated area I’ve seen since we arrived in this country two days ago. It’s the only space that hasn’t inhabited people upon people and I prefer to look out at it.

The ride to our tiny hotel was New York City on steroids. Horns honk constantly and outside the window tuktuks share the road with mopeds, walkers, cars, bicycles, and motorcycles. The weaving and beeping is unreal as the road lines are completely ignored by all who dare drive them. Entire families squeeze on motorcycles, the women with a side saddle approach and the kids sandwiched in between their parents or the handlebars. I had to look down a couple of times so I wouldn’t see how close we came to grazing people who didn’t even flinch.

The lush landscape boasts beautiful flowers and the city walls and structures are a sea of color. I’m romanticizing it, though. I’ve never seen such far stretching poverty either.

I feel sad here.

My Ari Jo spent her earliest days here without a family.

It’s not ugly to me, but the dense smog drains the sky of all color and makes me feel dreary. Inside I see my husband covered completely in a blanket, trying to shut the world out. I did this to him. The last time he was in the East, he was at war and ask any veteran, it’s hard to separate the two. I see him trying, though. It’s the way he calls her “our daughter” and “our little girl” that remind me he would do anything for us, even facing his biggest fears. I hope he sleeps. Tomorrow we get to meet our daughter for the first time and life will never be the same.

In my early college years, I always imagined I would adopt. Looking back, I see that it was a desire God planted in my heart, but at the time I think I just wanted to keep my body to myself. Little did I know, there’s no mother on Earth, biological, step, adoptive or otherwise that gets to keep a little privacy. Every bathroom trip or shower, every bottle or breast, every sleep deprived night, is shared with the little ones you love.

I grew up in a small town outside of Knoxville, Tennessee. I decided to leave that little town for a slightly bigger one in a college town in Middle Tennessee. My husband Jordan did the same, although I didn’t know him yet. We met thanks to his matchmaking mother and my talkative sister who were working together in the same office. They exchanged our facebook profiles and the rest is all history.

Jordan and I talked back and forth online and through texts. I thought he was becoming a friend. I agreed to meet up with him when he got into town. He was stationed at Ft. Wainwright, Alaska and was set to deploy in the coming months in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Before he left, he would come to Tennessee to visit his parents.  The night of our anti-date, I stressed for hours on what to wear. I suppose that should have been my first hint that I might care a little more than a friendly meeting encompassed. I finally landed on some black shorts and a floral print, silky top. I truly don’t know why I remember that. I recall very little in my head.

He picked me up in an old white Toyota Tacoma truck and we set off for an Italian restaurant that no longer exists. He talked the whole time, asking me questions and getting very little of a response. I liked to hear his stories and I liked sharing mine less. I think it made him uneasy, this woman of few words. He later told me he didn’t think the date was going too well because I was so quiet. By the end of the night, he walked me to my (parents’) front door and told me goodnight. I told him I had a good time and made a bee line to get inside. Upon entry, I wondered if he would ever try to call me again. I knew how I was coming across. I wasn’t not interested, though. On the contrary, I had this gut feeling that I was going to marry him and I told my mama so when she awoke early the next morning.

We spent the next year conversing over emails and AOL chat sessions. We talked about everything under the sun. Everything except adoption.

I put my desire to adopt away for awhile as I fell in love with him and an idea of a family one day. We were wed on a snowy day in January in the hills of Tennessee and we started our lives together in the Alaskan Winter of Fairbanks after he returned home from the Middle East. We knew we wanted to have children and so we wanted to get started quickly if we could. We struggled for awhile in the beginning. About eleven months after we were married, I found out I was pregnant. It was a beautiful, scary, and special time in our lives. After that, the babies kept on coming. It wasn’t fair, I knew. There were so many people hurting, struggling to become mothers. I sat on my couch with four kids surrounding me and felt overwhelmed but happy. The urge to adopt was faint, if not all together gone.

I can’t say when it changed, but change it did. I started feeling very aware of the great need for parents for children domestically and internationally. I became involved in foster care and then started testing the waters of international adoption conversations with my husband. Over that year, every sermon I heard was pointing me to His plan. Every song in worship brought me to tears. I knew I was standing in direct opposition to what God was calling me toward. I felt miserable not walking with Him. Jordan’s stance was clear. “We have four children, Kacy. Now, you want five? Why did I have a vasectomy if that was the case?” The conversations never went well and I decided that I had to give it to God. For the following year, I didn’t bring it up, not once. Instead, I prayed, “Lord, if this is not for us, please remove the desire from my heart and Lord, if this is for us, please give the desire to Jordan.” Then I waited.

At the close of 2019, he took me out to a nice dinner and told me he wanted to talk to me about something. We dressed in our best and sat down in an elegant steakhouse we could ill afford. It was there over flickering candlelight and boozy coffee drinks that we toasted to our next adventure: international adoption. He had come to me that night and said he had been thinking and he thought we should move forward in what God was calling us to do.

Obedience. That’s what has me listening to Hindi into the setting sun and typing up this love story for a girl who has for two years been on the other side of the world, but who is now just on the other side of town and tomorrow will be on the other side of this couch.

That conversation my husband and I had over two years ago happened right around the time that a beautiful, worthy, image bearer of Almighty God was born in Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh, India.

There are no mistakes.

Messy Purpose

"Write. If you want some bigger purpose, just write. You are already good at it." My husband speaks these words with the best of intentions, but when I hear them I'm ready with all sorts of excuses. The biggest one that always seems to trump them all is when or perhaps, how? It's nap time at my house, but Merit didn't get that memo and so as I'm typing now, he is downstairs teaching his monster to read on the ipad. I'm doing what I hate-- pacifying my kids with screens. I've been doing that a lot lately because I just need to get this one thing done, but when I'm getting the one thing done, the dog rips up a diaper, leaving trails of yucky granules all over the house, the one year old is decorating the furniture with dozens of stickers that I'll have to painstakingly remove later, or some other first world problem pops up, taking up more and more time out of my day. What the conversation comes to at the end of the day in my head is this, "What did I even accomplish today?" The answer to that is almost always nothing. In the amount of time it took me to write this paragraph, Merit has already been upstairs three times asking for something.
It's fine and wonderful and good when you've accepted that your mission in life is to be a mother. It's a beautiful thing, really. But what if you don't feel all that great at it? It seems like I'm stuck in that period of time in young adulthood that I'm still trying to find my place except I'm not a young adult. It's not that I've never had it. I felt sure of myself as an Army Wife. I realized Jordan's job had little to do with me, but it also felt like my role was to support him in it. I had to be uber supportive or that lifestyle wouldn't have worked for us. I certainly didn't wear his rank, but I felt like when he was gone, it was for a purpose greater than myself. When that role came to an end, I found myself again by getting in shape and balancing two kids under two. I felt empowered by motherhood and that bled over into everything I did. I started a business. I even started graduate school again and ended up finishing with another baby in my arms and a 4.0 grade point average. Along with that degree, there came a devastating diagnosis (Seriously, please don't lecture me about deafness not being devastating. I see that now, but it sure didn't feel that way then), a newborn to feed, and a solid year of uncertainty about our decision to implant Abel. There were a lot of changes. I went from feeling like supermom with my cloth diapers and two babies on my hips to three kids still in (disposable) diapers and a whole trail of soon to be three year olds, which is for sure the most challenging age thus far for us. I'm just using the diapers as an example of how my motherhood has changed over the years. I'm not saying one is better than the other. The point is that everything I thought I knew, I don't. Do you remember when I had a speech therapy corner set up in Abel's room and I worked with him one on one every single night? I was dedicated to helping him progress. I poured into each of my children. But now? We've added still another child and most days it just feels like I'm treading water. I'm doing the laundry, the dishes, and working to keep these little rascals alive. I'm still working on teaching them to be kind or tie their stinkin' shoes that teaching them math never crossed my mind. My head is above water. I know it is, but it's just barely.
I know my purpose in life is to simply show people Jesus, but good grief it isn't always simple. My human nature makes it incredibly difficult. Just this morning, I was emailing someone about serving in the nursery at our church and in the process, little people were yelling at me from another room. I stormed into the kitchen angry asking a one year old and a three year old why they couldn't just be patient? They can't be patient because I'm not demonstrating patience to them. I mean, there are so many examples throughout the day that I lose count.
And so I write. It's a ministry for me. I'm passionate about showing others that there are real people out there, like me, who aren't perfect. When you start walking with Jesus, it's not easy. We wake up every day wanting to be more like Him, but failing every time in comparison. We want to serve Him, but our human nature also wants us to serve ourselves. It's our instinct to serve ourselves. It's a choice to die daily to our desires and serve Him instead. Being a mother is that way, too. It's really hard to fix people food three times before you actually consume food yourself. It's hard to sacrifice sleep so that one or more of your children can sleep instead. It's difficult to get everyone where they need to be and still have time to yourself to do the things that you enjoy. They're worth it. It's a job I wouldn't trade for the world, but it is hard. Messy. Complicated. But what purpose isn't? I can't think of a person who was used by God that had an easy path. When He calls us to something, it feels impossible without Him. I think it's okay that I often feel overwhelmed by my role at home. It's okay because it also comes with a reminder that I'm not alone. I'm not God. I can't control everything. But with Him, I'm able to press on. He gives me purpose when it feels like there is none to assign.

When The Music Stops

There's a colorful, beachy hammock hanging between the two large trees in my backyard. It's almost offensive as it sways there in the infrequent breeze. It almost looks like I could walk outside and have the sun warm my skin as I stretch out in the hammock with a good book and my bare feet. It's cold, though and my babies are inside, avoiding the plague.

I have had more than a few people encourage me that brighter days are on the horizon and I know that they are, but I've got to be happy in this season. I told Jordan the other day that I was a summer mom and it's true. I enjoy leaving the house with all the kids to go for a swim or a hike. I like to plan outings to the zoo, the aquarium, museums, or other germ-filled hangouts that I'm currently trying to avoid because the flu epidemic is a serious problem in our area. The kids haven't been to school in over a week due to school closures and their own battles with influenza. I'm a summer mom because we are outside people and I send the kids out to play as soon as their eyes open. I can't do that today without pouring a lot of effort into bundling them up and I'm certainly not open to doing that before I've had my coffee.

Yes, I'm a summer mom.

I have this old music box. It's hand-painted, made in Germany. My grandparents probably brought it home to me on their travels or it's left over from when my mom spent some years there thanks to Army life. Abe wound it up and brought it to me with wonder in his eyes. And as the music slows, he becomes a little more intrigued. The miracle is that he can hear it. The anticipation builds, like he wants to experience all of it, hear every last note until the knob stops winding and the music comes to a slow halt. I get it. I've loved music boxes since I was a little girl. When the music is done, there's that satisfaction that comes with something finished- a book, a song, a thought. The same is true for this winter. I'm listening to the music play and I'm enjoying it as much as I possibly can. We're stuck at home, but I have four healthy kids who are running around playing superheroes and building magnet towers. They have snot running down their faces, but they aren't laid up in bed, very ill. I didn't have to search frantically for childcare when school was cancelled, but instead I was relieved to know that I could shield my kids here at home for a few more days. The sweet music is playing through the halls of our house and I'm listening. Soon enough, the song (and season) will be over.

Then something new will begin.

Mom Set Free

I'm clean today. When I move my hair just a little bit until it falls over my face the result is intoxicating. Soap. I actually smell like soap. It's an amazing feeling-- to be doing my mom thing WHILE also being clean. That's rare. And if you don't know why that's so amazing to me then instead of labeling me a gross individual just be happy for me instead, ok? It's a big day.

My last facial came from the draining of boxed macaroni as the steam hit my face on the heavy pour. I'm painting my nails as I karate kick shoes out of the dog's mouth, attempting to ignore multiple requests for yet MORE snacks, and wondering if my children will ever go to school again (only slightly dramatic on this third day off of the week). It's a crazy house here, but it's good, ya know? I DO like this life. It's hard, but it's amazing to be given the blessing of raising these four individuals. I've really been trying to embrace my role at home and not just thinking of it as temporary. Sometimes I look forward to a time when I'm not changing diapers constantly or adjusting an ill fitting sock before the waterworks start. Again. For the love.

Instead, I'm trying to recognize that my role in servanthood doesn't end when my children are grown. It's a role that God has given to me. I serve Him through it, but I also am able to serve others through it. When my children are grown, I'll have grandchildren to help. There will always be plenty of ways to serve, now and then. But the biggest thing that has plagued me with stepping into (Okay, being thrown into....in the deep end) motherhood was the feeling of not being very good at it. It's true, I'm selfish. I like my alone time to think or shower or run. My mom look lacks much to be desired. My kids don't bat an eye if I tell them to do something in public, knowing full well I'll probably avoid a scene instead of sticking to my guns about what I told them because of my drastically introverted approach to life. I don't always feel like I'm doing much right in parenting my little ones. Still, I've known and tried to focus on the fact that God gifted me with these little loves and therefore gifted me with four huge opportunities for growth in His name.

Just yesterday before the snow started, I took everyone for haircuts. There are many events I try to avoid at all costs, but it has dawned on me lately that I'm not really doing them any favors by not participating in these. The regular service at church. The grocery store. Places like that where they just need to learn how to act. This is why I found myself at the dentist during nap time with my crew just last week. Another big mistake, but that's a story for another day. We were talking about the haircut trip, weren't we? It was nowhere near as bad as the time the three year old sent a gal to the hospital when the scissors slipped and she cut herself, but still it wasn't good. The same darling three year old decided he was not, in fact, getting a haircut that day and was quite rude insisting that he wouldn't do it. I'm all about natural consequences and I knew this would be a good time to let that play out because if he didn't get a haircut, he didn't get a sucker. WoooooWeeee! I ended up dragging him out with the baby on my hip and all eyes on me. Not to mention the two big boys practically pro wrestling in the parking lot with giggles, suckers, and fresh new looks on their precious heads. Before, I would have been mortified.

But lately, I've realized that I am free from all of that. Of course, as parents we are to instruct our children in the way they should go, but ultimately Jesus is the one who saves them from the sin that is rampant in their lives. Nothing I do as a mother (or don't do) makes God love me or them any less. I'm His daughter. He chose me. I delight Him*. Just that little reminder completely changed my afternoon. I no longer cared to be judged by the people who witnessed the Day At The Barber Shop. It didn't matter! God has given me these children and He doesn't make mistakes. He knows me. He loves me. Isn't that an amazing feeling to be known? In the time of superficial connections on Facebook and pseudo mom support groups, it feels so comforting to be seen in my service by the King of Kings.

If you struggle with this topic of not feeling enough, I have many reading suggestions for you, but you should start with this one. I really enjoyed it and it is book one out of twenty I plan on reading this year. Also, those cookies? They were just two out of ten I plan on eating tonight. 

I mean, what else do you do on a snow day?

(* see Ephesians 1:4-5, Galatians 4:5, Zephaniah 3:17)

Perfecting Tools

Gatlinburg Fire 2016

Sometimes...MOST times God doesn't come to us in a way we'd expect. I know that some people appear to have been on the same pew at church since the day they were born. It may seem as if God speaks to them in quiet Bible studies with friends at a local coffee shop or during major milestones in their lives, the happy ones. I know that He can and often does bend down to us in those ways, but I just want to encourage you today if that's not exactly how you've felt His presence lately. It's only just dawned on me recently that this is not how my story is going, either. I think that's okay. I was not a good mother today. I wasn't even a good person.  Before you say, "Oh, she's just being hard on herself", please let it sink in that I was demonstrating all of the behaviors I try so hard to prune out of my children. I was easily angered. Shouting over trivial things. Honestly, whole-heartedly annoyed at our home life. Typing all of these, convicts me yet again. To reset, I had to just get outside and see the beauty of His creation and remember what I was trying to accomplish in bringing up my children. When we think of Jesus, thoughts often drift toward the healer that He was- how He made the lame to walk and the blind see. We know that He could just speak and problems would fade away. What we don't always remember is that Jesus didn't always work in that way. We don't have to look far to know that He doesn't always work in that way now, either. Do you remember the story of Paul when he was stoned, beaten half to death, but he marched back into town to share God's word (see Acts 14)? What about the story of the three young men thrown into the fiery furnace because of their faith (see Daniel 3)? These people went through the fire. Some literally, some figuratively. James 1:2-4 says, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." I don't really think that James is asking us to be joyful all the time about our sufferings, but to instead to be joyful in the hope and promise of what those trials will bring later. Paul talks about it in Romans 5, too. We have hope. As mothers we have hope. Our kids can have hope. Today my fire came in the form of wild little boys who are much louder than their mama. It blazed in my heart when x, y, and z didn't go as planned. The fire raged on in the words that were said. And it hurt. It's not always as simple as Him parting the waters. Sometimes, it needs to hurt a little. I don't always feel Him the most when I've sat down in my comfortable chair by the fire with my five trillion pretty colored markers to write down all that I'm learning in my studies. He speaks to me in other ways, too. Often, He speaks to me through the good and perfect gifts He sent me in Kinley, Abel, Merit, and Saylor. Wendy Speake co-authored a great book that I recommend called Triggers and in it, she wrote "That perfect gift, swaddled, is the perfecting tool that will bring us to maturity." There are no perfect kids, perfect homes, perfect mornings. But our Heavenly Father IS perfecting us. "Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love him." James 1:12 I'm so grateful for these little perfecting tools that are my children. God has used them in so many ways already and I know that He will continue to help us help each other.  So here's to you, whoever you are that is reading this now. Your life isn't perfect, but God has a perfect plan for it. Perfecting insinuates action. He's working on you through your trial at work, at home, or wherever. Right now. He hasn't abandoned you. He's in the fire, too.

Isn't This A Lovely Day

The sounds of Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, and Billie Holiday are on a continuous flow through the thin walls of my home tonight. I have poured myself a glass of white and there are no harsh overhead lights glaring on me, instead soft light twinkles from strings and lamps. The rain has ended. It's almost bedtime and it's the first time today that I've allowed the t.v. to be turned on so the boys are huddled around it. In other words, I finally have a chance to sit. It has been a full five minutes since anyone has asked me for anything and I've done nothing with that time except stare at this screen, begging for a place for my creativity and emotion to end up. It's a beautiful night here. I have mostly silence, a place to write, old enchanting music, and my husband is on his way home from his business trip. A girl can't want for much more.

Earlier today, I didn't feel as optimistic. Do you ever wonder what your children will remember? About their childhoods, I mean. When I think back on my own, I see that I have nothing but good thoughts and it scares me. It makes me wonder why I can't just get it together. The best I do every day is show my kids my own need for a savior. They see how selfish I am- daily, hourly. I'm exhausted by endless demands and even though I know I'm called to a life of service to them and others, it's often the very last thing I want to do.
Yet...
There's nothing else I want to do in the world. I get to be here to wash four curly heads at night and watch strong sibling bonds develop over belly laughs and wrestling matches. I don't have to miss them because I'm always right there by their sides. When I feel the walls of this small house closing in on me the more the children grow, I remember that one day our house will feel hopelessly quiet and empty. Soon enough, Merit won't grab my hand and kiss it, telling me "I like you so much, Mom." No, they'll all leave this little nest I've worked so hard to create and I'm afraid I'll be empty, too.
I'll mentally try to capture this fleeting moment with Merit dancing to early jazz with a mouth full of peanut butter he helped himself to. Abel is also enthralled with the music as he curls his cold toes underneath the quilt with me. He is spelling out his name with the letters on this keyboard and bobbing his head softly to the music. My deaf child! Saylor is sleeping sweetly in her pink polka dot pjs and Kinley wouldn't dare look away from some coveted screen time. It's business as usual here, but it's nice. I want for nothing.
It's just another simple night on the chestnut farm. Not much to write home about.

"Let the rain pitter patter
But it really doesn't matter
If the skies are gray
Long as I can be with you it's a lovely day"

My Arrows

"We don't become capable of developing the necessary strength in ourselves. The problem is with the placement of our eyes. When we believe we are enough-even when we feel Jesus's enough makes us enough-we're placing our eyes on ourselves, as if our abilities are top priority. On the other hand, when we acknowledge our constant need for and dependence on Him, our eyes are placed on Him, and His priorities take over." --Brooke McGlothlin (Gospel Centered Mom)

If any one picture could describe "Back to School" it's this one. We are tired. We decided to send the older boys to a school quite a bit farther away and the new routine has us a bit delirious. Motherhood is tiring any which way you spin it, though. For me, this week brought more time with my two babies. We've been to parks, read more books, cooked together, snuggled, and actually had a designated (double) nap time work out a time or two. I really like it. I just wish we were a bit closer to the school, but that's okay. We are getting into a new groove.

I'm proud of my school aged boys, too. I have a Kindergartner and a Pre-K student. Our goals for mainstreaming Abel have been set into place and we are hoping he flourishes in this environment with his typically developing peers. There have been some struggles with dragging boys out of beds in the morning, but other than that the challenges have been minimal.

I'm truly trying to remember as I cart my kiddos here and there that it's okay that I'm not a perfect mom. If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you've read the inner anxiety I have about feeling as if I'm enough for these kids. We've heard people tell us and even encourage us to repeat it mantra style, "You are enough"/"I am enough". The book I'm reading now says to look at it in a different light. I'll never be enough. I need Jesus for that. And boy, do I! The summer started out strong and I was mommin' like crazy. We went to pools, we hiked, and we played sun up to sun down. But as summers do, ungratefulness and hatefulness bred within us as we took the ability to get out for granted and brotherly rivalry turned into all out brawls over the silliest things. The summer drew to an epic close when on the very last day of summer break, I decided with the help of another questionably sane friend to load up seven of our kids (under 7) and take them to the aquarium two hours away. The day made for a cute picture or ten, but it was also another reality check-

I need Jesus. THEY need Jesus, too. In every moment. With every breath.

It's ten o'clock at night and do you know how many times I've put my three and four year old back to bed? Me either. Lost count. It's helping to write this so I can truly focus on not absolutely losing it. 

But sometimes I lose it. Sometimes I have the facade of having it all together, but underneath it's just ugly and sinful--in need of a cleansing Savior.

People give you funny looks when you take that many children that close in age to a place like that. In the kids' defense, they were pretty stinkin' good that day, really. Anyway, I had four or five of the boys at an interactive part of an exhibit and they were taking turns among one another pretty pleasantly when another child walked up with three (yes, THREE) adults with her. They stood there as the boys each got a chance to play with the submarine viewer. When the last boy was looking (in a timely matter I might add), the woman said "All she wants to do is have a turn looking at this thing, but this lady has too many kids!" 

There are moments in life where you chew on what you should have said or would have said, but all you can do is think about it because the moment has passed. With just a hint of snark in my voice, I will tell you that I said exactly what I wanted to say in that moment-"Okay boys, let's move on. This little girl's mommy wants a turn at the submarine."

I've giggled at the look on her face a time or two since then.

But when I think about that moment, my thoughts are drawn to sin and how it so easily entangles us. My reaction to her was not love, but an immediate desire to make her feel small while I held my tongue to what I really wanted to say. I mean, why would anyone want to make a child feel unwanted? Don't you dare let my kids or any kids in my care hear you say anything about how you wish there were less of them. These kids are arrows (Psalm 127:3-5). They are His handiwork. They will be His messengers, His disciples. The God of the Universe gave them to me. He doesn't make mistakes. Back off, lady.

So, it's okay. To the world, I'm definitely definitely not enough. Far from perfect. My lot is one long crazy train most days. But I get to raise these kids. Me. This selfish, prideful, tired mom was chosen for them. They are prayed over and diligently loved and corrected. And I will continue to seek God's help in doing so. What a magnificent role I have here and I thank God for it.

But if I'm truly introspective, I can see that so many times it's not the behaviors, attitudes or personality characteristics of my kids' that need attention. Instead, it's my own. These boys (and girl) were given their attributes specifically and He is making them to work for good. I can't stomp on their independence now and expect them to feel confident in themselves in other ways down the road. My job is to make them into the individuals God made them to be, not who I want them to be.

People tell me often, "I don't know how you do it."

I don't either, but I know it's by the grace of God that we get through each new week. It's an exhausting, beautifully chaotic, messy life but it's an incredible one, too. I'm thankful for a Savior who doesn't leave us, ever.

The Space in Between

It's endearing, right? The way I'm confident I'll blog weekly and how I always say to check back regularly and then months go by. The summer has been wild, y'all. We've squeezed a whole lot of living into the hours of the day and on into the night. Catching you up would be a laundry list of trails we've hiked, afternoons we've struggled through, swimming pools we've frequented, and much more. Tonight, though, I've settled into our newly constructed office with a glass of wine and a large piece of chocolate cake (because my husband is amazing and thought of me at his business dinner tonight) to write something else. I had an epiphany tonight. I have honestly been in a sour mood today. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I was annoyed. I decided that we should have a little fun this evening since Daddy would be working late and we had been home all afternoon with a sleeping, sick baby. I got everyone dressed which is a feat in itself and started loading up the car, buckling in the loves of my life. One of them, whose name shall not be mentioned, grabbed the handle and hung on it like a primate and in doing so broke the handle completely off it's hinges. There it was, dangling there. Standing between me and an evening of ice cream with my kids in hopes of pacifying them just a little bit longer. In hopes of snapping that picture perfect shot of my lot in front of my hometown ice cream shop. In hopes of pretending for just a little bit longer that I am supermom. Dream shattered, y'all. Obliterated. It's silly how incredibly often I have to take a humility pill and a reality pill. I'm reminded over and over in raising my four young children that I'm called to truth. Nothing more, nothing less. At the church we attend, we heard a lot about humility on Sunday. Bear with one another in love, stop measuring, count others as more significant than you, have self sacrificing love. Still, I need these reminders every day. 

I wish I could say I calmly told my son that it was okay and accidents happen. Instead, I angrily said we couldn't go anywhere now. I nagged him by saying, "This is why I tell you not to do that!Why don't you listen to me?" I'm reminded of me, too. Doesn't my Heavenly Father not treat me as my sins deserve? He lets natural consequences arise (my own conviction for being wrong) instead of yelling at me about how I disappointed Him (again). So many times my perspective needs to be adjusted and today was one of those times. Here comes the epiphany... Why am I assigning blame to Satan when I'm presented with difficult obstacles? For example, when I deliberately wake up early so that I can have a steaming cup of coffee in silence and study God's Word and my kids decide they'll get up early as well- Why do I say or think that Satan is trying to get me down? What if I instead looked at that situation as an opportunity for ministry? What if I looked at it as a test from God? How much would my day-to-day change? The truth is that I am human. I try diligently to brush everyones teeth, have them memorize scripture, and not raise my voice but folks, that doesn't always happen. But what I can do in those moments-like the moment of the car handle incident- is show them grace. I can say that this isn't Satan trying to get me down, but God trying to build me up to be a better mom and person. I could let them join in on my bible study. I could lovingly correct their behavior. And, like I had to do earlier, I can get down on their level and admit I was wrong in my reaction and ask them to forgive me. And they do. God love them. Difficult days come and they go. The older I get, the more I'm convinced that I'm to share that truth. Some days are the terrible, awful we learned about in The Help....and some days are perfect gifts from above...and some days are just that awkward space in between. Life happens in those days, though. The kids get a bit older, your hair grows a little longer, and you find yourself having to buy toilet paper again. In those mundane days, we still have a beautiful chance to minister. During breakfast, during diaper changes, during orange juice all over the floor--that's when we can show them Jesus.

"Therefore as you have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him having been firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed and overflowing with gratitude." Colossians 2:6-7

Ready For Summer!

Another school year come and gone. Kinley finished up his second year at a private pre-school. I think he came into his own a little more this year, gaining some confidence and learning a lot. It's hard to believe that the little boy who made me mama five years ago will soon be walking into a new school as a kindergartner. I remember being pregnant with him and thinking that he would learn Spanish as we taught him English because naturally. Oh, that mom was cute. That mom went on to have three more kids in the next four years and now barely knows English herself. Still, I'm very proud of my oldest. He loves to be outside. He will squeeze all the daylight he can out of each day this summer.
Abel also finished up his second year at preschool. His Pre-K class has been good for him. I think he enjoys the structure and routine that school brings. Familiar faces greeted him while he attended and I think that has helped to make him feel more comfortable. His progress has jumped in the past few months and he surprises me weekly with the things he says and does. One of the goals I have had for him was to mainstream him as soon as possible. We are going to try that in the fall when he will hopefully start a mainstream pre-k with his typically developing four year old peers. I'm excited for him. I know he can do it!
I also got another year at home with my Merit. He's two now- two going on five. He wants to do everything Kinley does and certainly holds his own in brother conversations, quarrels, and joy. He thrives at being the only big boy at home when he can. We often had a few mornings each week together, just the baby, Merit, and me. I'll cherish those. He is great with chores, eager to learn, and independent. His laugh will fill up a room, but he sure does have some strong, ever-changing opinions, too. Watch out for this one. At heart, he's a good boy.

And now that the school year is over, that means my baby is almost one. I have no idea how that happened. I never knew a baby could be so sweet. Saylor's smile is contagious. I can't stop kissing her. She loves to fuss when she sees me and I'm not holding her. She loves her mama, but she won't say it. She just says "Dada" all the time. Her latest party tricks include pointing, waving and saying "hi" and "hey". I look forward to more one on one time next fall when some of the brothers filter out into their school system.

Until then, we're going to have a great summer. We kicked it off yesterday with a pool party and a few of our closest friends! I plan to document our summer here on the blog so I hope you'll come back frequently. I'm determined to not plant these kids in front of the t.v., but instead to get out and live in the sunshine!

Are You Haley?

I stumbled across this piece of art at a coffee shop I grew up in. What I mean is that for four years of my early adulthood, I met people at this place to talk about love lost, to medicate with sugary, caffeine- plenty drinks after staying up too late in the computer lab, and to study some more in this small sanctuary called Poet's in the town in which I completed my Bachelor's degree. The picture was titled "Haley had a dream", but I looked at it and thought, 'Isn't this the picture of motherhood?'
I see myself in this girl. Her hair is beautifully curled. She put something nice on to wear. For the most part, her house is clean and tidy. While those things rarely describe my life, it's something I'm encouraged to believe is an easy task to accomplish. Yet, it's harder than it may seem. I see myself in Haley because she seems to have made such an effort, but still, there's uncooked food sitting beside her. It's messy, dripping, and the clock is ticking for her to salvage it into something more desirable. I imagine there are many children under this table, pulling on her leg. They're probably needing a diaper change, their nose wiped, their shoes tied, and more hugs than she's offered up today. The demand she feels in every direction has closed in on her in this moment and she just has to lay her head down and breathe for sixty seconds. I see me.
I like this picture a lot, actually. It reminds me that not everyone exists in tiny picture perfect Instagram squares. It helps to remind me that the incredible strength of a woman comes from God and that it's Him who keeps me going despite the growing demands a society places on me. I like it because it's peculiar--like it almost wouldn't make sense to you unless you were a little strange yourself. I feel this way because I know many of you who are reading this right now don't understand me. You likely wonder why raising young children is emotionally and physically exhausting. I know. I remember thinking those thoughts long ago, too. I even remember when I had two children under two and managed to keep my house in order, my body fit, and whatever else you may think is good and proper for a young mother to do. Their little bottoms were covered with cloth diapers. We ate fresh, clean foods. I was figuring this motherhood gig out! Then, two became three and shortly after that there were four. One by one, I've begun to let some things go. The perfect mom facade was never for me. Here I am. Like Haley. I'm tired, but I'm strong. When I finish writing these words, I'll lift myself up off the table again and handle whatever may be thrown my way today. And grace. I'll give myself plenty of that.

My Girl

Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm

And your cheeks so soft

There is nothing for me but to love you

And the way you look tonight

This girl is changing me. Where I previously wished the hours away until bedtime, I now find myself ignoring the clock just a little bit more so I can take in the darling fat rolls forming on her beautiful legs and breathe in the freshness of her new baby smell. I sat with her on this blanket, legs stretched out in front of us and had the weighty feeling that I wouldn't have enough time with her. I'm not sure if the feeling was meant to foreshadow something dark or if it simply was there for me to recognize that she looks slightly more like a little girl today and a little less like my squishy newborn I brought home in July. It doesn't matter, though because either way, it's true. I don't have enough time to cherish this sweet girl. I began whispering suggestions for her. You can't be boy crazy because God is preparing someone for you. You have to focus on God and He will find the one you should pour your time and energy into. You will be his helper. Start praying for him now. I know you must be thinking- that's silly! But even if my brown eyed girl doesn't understand a word I'm saying, I know I'm communicating love to her in those moments. I touched her olive skin and I quietly sang to her as she looked at me with her adoring eyes and it hit me. I'm different because of her. She's my girl. She has changed me. I prayed for her, for the mother she would become. And now as she's laying on her back in her crib with her little hands curled up in those cute baby fists and sucking on her lower lip, I can only hope that she won't grow up too fast, that I'll be able to SEE her, to smell her, to have her wispy hair tickle my face as we dance together in the backyard, that I won't let the busyness of life take me away from my truly important mission right in front of me.

Saylor Eden.

My girl.

Growth

"The passion for stretching yourself and sticking to it, even (or especially) when it's not going well, is the hallmark of the growth mindset. This is the mindset that allows people to thrive during some of the most challenging times in their lives." -Carol S. Dweck

A couple of months ago, I posted on IG and Facebook that I was reading a book called Mindset: The New Psychology of Success. Several of you chimed in that you would like to know my thoughts on it when I finished. Well, I don't think a book review would do it justice and most of you wouldn't read it anyway. Instead, I wanted to weave it into some more personal stories in hopes that you might gain a more complete view of how important I think the ideas in this book are and why it will be one that I'll revisit over and over again. 

The book talks about the differences in people who orient toward a fixed mindset and those who are more inclined to have a mindset of growth. The latter is one who approaches everything as a process. It's the thought that you can develop yourself in any capacity. Intellectual ability, talent in music, art, or sports, and approaching personality and relationships--all of these are subject to change in those of us with the growth mindset. On the other hand, folks with a fixed mindset have thoughts that more closely resemble these:

"This is just the way I am."

"I've never been good at math. I don't see that changing."

"Some people just have a natural talent for music, but I didn't get that gene."

The work of Carol Dweck shows that the above comments simply don't have to be true. Now, don't leave me if you're drowning in laundry, the kids have chocolate smeared on their faces already at 9am, and you're barely keeping everyone's head above water. I'm there, too so hear me out. Lately, I've read and come into contact with so many people who kept preaching, sharing articles on Facebook, and holding meetings about not merely surviving but thriving and honestly I wanted to punch them all in the face. After all, they have no idea what I'm going through. Their kids aren't as close together as mine. They don't have as many as I do. Their kids are older. They aren't dealing with special needs. They don't know. While all those are probably true, they also don't matter. I'm not competing with anyone, but myself. And who says I can't get better at being Mama? Or being a wife, friend, daughter, writer, or an underwater basket weaver, if I so choose?

"In the fixed mindset, everything is about the outcome. If you fail-or if you're not the best- it's all been wasted. The growth mindset allows people to value what they're doing regardless of the outcome"(Dweck). Much of our climate and culture is focused on a fixed mindset. What's the line from that movie I don't think I've ever actually watched in its entirety? "If you're not first, you're last." While I don't think participation trophies are helpful, I also don't believe that we should demonstrate to our children that because they weren't first in a foot race that the experience was wasted. Instead, we should encourage their effort and praise their ability to work hard and grow in that specific area. I know that I have good days and bad, but I also know that I can make small decisions every day that will push me toward becoming a better, well-rounded individual.

This talk makes me think of former President George W. Bush and his currently developing artistic abilities. He woke up one day and decided he wanted to paint our nation's heroes as a tribute to them and so he took classes and worked hard and became a painter, an artist. He had no prior experience. That's incredible.

The growth mindset can be applied to anything even relationships and friendships. People in the fixed mindset need validation so sometimes they will put you down in the process. They'll point out where they think you're lacking and sugar coat it with a smile all because on the flip side, they do have that part of their life in order and need to be validated on it because so much of the rest of them feels inferior. Shortly after learning that Abel was deaf, someone said I must have formula fed him (I didn't) and that caused him to get many ear infections and lose his hearing. She is an "all natural everything" type mom (which is great!) and so I suppose that helped her validate herself. Another situation that comes to mind is the time an older, well-dressed man asked me for money for gas. While I was filling up his tank, he took the time to insult me by laughing that I had wasted my education by staying home with my children. He must have been embarrassed that he forgot his debit card and needed to remind himself and me that he was an important man with plenty of money, experience, and worth. If I was in a fixed mindset, I would let these situations bother me greatly. The old Kacy certainly would have dwelled on instances such as these, but growing in my mindset allows me to see them more objectively. Just last week, a friend told me that her husband didn't care for me much. I do not have a problem with him and would've considered him a friend, too so that wasn't something I was thrilled to hear, but it's fine. A couple of years ago that would have killed me. I would have thought about what in the world I did wrong, how I could try to change it, etc until the cows came home. It would have hurt. This growth mindset allows me to just take it for what it's worth. I'm no less because of it and neither is he. I still have an opportunity to grow myself as a friend and can focus on relationships that are worthy of that growth. There's nothing to prove. 

There are nuggets of wisdom throughout the work of Carol Dweck that can be applied in so many situations. Depression, marriage, parenthood--she hits on all of these. The resounding message is one of determination. And that's one I want to reiterate over and over for my children. When I started out reading this, my main focus was Kinley. He seems to be very fixed in his mindset. He needs validation constantly. As I continued to read, my thoughts shifted to Abel, who has an incredible opportunity to approach life with a growth mindset and show the world how much he can learn and adapt to a hearing world. Mostly, though, I think the book has changed me. I set out to teach my kids this type of thinking and I had no idea that my thinking was what needed tweaked. 

I think you should check this book out. It is certainly redundant, but it's also chocked full of information, research studies, personal stories, and quotes that will help you change your mind, too.

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Like a Handful of Berries

At times, the every day tasks we choose to do run together like an endless Groundhog Day. Laundry, Dishes, clean toilets, change diapers, wipe noses, repeat. It's never done yet we keep on working at it. So as my mind was on autopilot today, I walked my slipper clad feet down to the laundry room after nursing the baby for over an hour. I sleepily stretched, yawning as I opened the washer and dryer to start yet another load of laundry. When I swung open the door, something was off. What was it? Upon closer examination, I could see several very small berry-like brown balls falling out of clothes, scattered around the inside of the washing machine. I thought about how my boys adore pockets because that means they can store such treasures in them and not tell Mama about them- rocks, sticks, candy, nuts, you name it and I've probably found it stuffed into the tiny recesses of pre-school sized pockets. Part of me loves it. To see from the eyes of a child what they treasure in that moment can be special. As I began collecting each formerly red berry, now a dull brown, I began to see how sparing they actually were. There were about twenty or so and as I gathered them in my hands I thought about how many more days I would actually have with them being this small in this tiny set of pants, in those little socks, in our little house here with them right now. Soon another milestone will be reached and they'll be a little different than they were the day before. Soon I won't be finding little dead foliage from their pockets in my washer and dryer. Then what?
It's funny how a handful of berries can cause much reflection in the early morning hours of a Monday, no less. I thought back to our time in Alaska when we left the borders of our town and headed on a backpacking trip to Denali National Park to sleep at the foot of Mt. McKinley, the towering mountain my oldest is named after. We gathered bags and bags full of fresh wild blueberries on that trip that we would later make into pies, pancakes, and fresh-fruit breakfasts. Those handfuls of the best blueberries you'll ever taste slipped through our fingers pretty quickly. We spent so much time, just Jordan and me, picking those under the clouded expansive sky beside the most impressive backdrop you can imagine, and in just a little while, they were gone. We thought we had so many at our fingertips and we did, but then they were gone. Just like those few years we had together before kids. Just like those fifteen months when we had one child. Just like those few years we hopefully will get while our family is complete. Just like those old berries I pulled out of the washer this morning. How many more days will I get to do that? How many more days can I have to show my children love through service recognized or not? If I could gather them up in my hands, what would that look like?

"So I concluded that there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can. And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God." Ecclesiastes 3:12-13

5 Things I've Learned About Having a "Big" Family

Imagine my eight month old strapped to my chest in a baby carrier, her three older stair-step brothers holding hands walking into the grocery store. They choose a special car cart to use and have a brief, passionate discussion about which two boys will get to drive and who will be left to stare at my face and the back of they baby's head. Sure, we're taking up some time and space but for the most part it is managed chaos and we aren't truly inconveniencing anyone. YET..

I see the looks.

Five Things I've Learned About Having a "Big" Family

1. People assume they're paying for you in some way. Don't get behind them in the grocery store--she's probably going to use food stamps. In fact, cut in front of them. Why do they have so many kids? No lie--someone has asked me before if I needed the number to Planned Parenthood.

2. If you have a big family, you are already in someones way. Just this trip I'm walking down an aisle with my crew and someone else was, too so I moved to go around. No biggie. THEN a third woman comes out of nowhere, pretending to not see us and comes barging right through despite the fact that there's no room and I can't pick up my cart (because there are groceries and three children weighing it down) to inch it over a few. It mattered not that I was easily there first. I was in her way. I was slowing her down and she was going to passive aggressively show me. If you're going to have a big family, go ahead and prepare yourself for some folks to act like they have a say in your life in some way. Literally, my big family doesn't have an impact on you at all. Why do you care? Are you watching them for me? DEFINITELY NOT. Are you buying their diapers? Nope. Food? No. You're doing nothing for them so keep walkin'.

3.When you all go out together, someone will always ask "Are they all yours?" or they'll say "You've got your hands full." I don't mind either of these statements for the record. Sometimes I'm amazed they're all mine, too and I DEFINITELY have my hands full with them.

4. Some people will grant you a knowing nod, a twinkle in their eye, or a smile that reminds you of the great responsibility you have in raising these little people. Usually it's a sweet older lady who has been there, done that and sometimes it's a woman who doesn't have any children yet and desperately wants to mother a child. Either way, these people refresh my heart. Be these people who grant grace instead of judgment.

5.You will grow every day. It may not be in number. It probably won't be your bank account that shows growth. No, you'll be stretched thin there...but your confidence in yourself as a mother will grow. Your love for your family and the amazing way you seem to balance EVERYTHING will grow. Your appreciation for others walking this path with many kids, with various special needs, with whatever will grow. You'll be different. You'll be those people I mentioned at number four. You'll give grace.

Y'all, my kids were actually pretty great in the store today yet I felt a lot of shade thrown our way. We've got to be better about this. If you've opened your Bible at least just a little bit, you know that children are special to God. Stop holding them to impossible standards. They're learning how to act and we, as parents, are learning to parent them. And while they embarrass me daily, they make me incredibly proud, too with all the moments you don't get to see.

Thank you, Lord, for a big family full of chaos! Thank you for growth and grace. Amen.

The Best of the Internet Today

Literally every child I own (I can say that, right?) is crying, WAILING right now and I just can't even. It has been one of those days, for no particular reason. I am just to my limit with tantrums and fighting and downright psychotic behavior from a few of them (I'm lookin' at you Abe and Mer Bear). SO, like any stellar parent who knows her own limits, I'm ignoring them with a big dose of the world wide web. On this Monday, I bring you The Best of the Internet Today.

Y'all have been obsessed with this stinkin' giraffe trying to give birth. Admittedly, I tuned in to see what the fuss is about for all of 22 seconds, but who has time for this? Are you all sitting at work with this window ready to close out if someone important walks in? Do you have it streaming to your iPhone as you workout at the gym? Use the bathroom? I'm so confused. Millions are watching at any given time. Hey, I'm not judging. Whatever floats your boat. But THIS video--I found it hilarious. Here's a still photo...

Anyway, there's also this one--a parody of the bachelor for moms. It's spot on--ok, except I have exactly zero people lining up asking to watch my kids. Everything else is right on target.

Also, Cat and Nat are always pretty spot on, too. This week they hit the nail on the head with- Why am I so tired?

The #momlife is so glamorous, y'all! I went out in town twice today- once with polka dot pants on and the other time with plaid pajamas on. The only reason I changed has everything to do with a very spitty baby and not the fact that I ran two miles and was sweaty. No, that doesn't quite warrant a shower around here. Just livin' the dream...and look at all this time I just found to blog. I've really got my life in order. Anyway, I just heard an outside door open and close so they might be escaping. I should probably go check that out. Let's chat again soon.

Turning Coffee Into Words

If I had a cup of joe for every hour that I'm awake, it still wouldn't be enough. Now I understand why my best friend's mom always drank an entire pot of coffee every day--it was because once upon a time, she also had kids very close together in age who didn't yet take care of themselves and maybe she was just as tired as I often am. I'm not sure if my mental exhaustion fuels my physical exhaustion or vice versa, but here I sit turning coffee into words yet again, just so I can stay awake until their bedtime. 

It's funny because a little over a month ago I thought, I'm going to be a blogger again--a legit one. I'll write multiple times a week and start creating content again that doesn't entirely revolve around wiping noses and butts. Psych. You knew better, didn't you? Alas, I'm back but I don't know how often you can count on me. 

Life is good. I've learned some things already this year and it's only January. For example, ear buds will save your motherhood. Just plug those suckers in and listen to your music, a book, or watch a t.v. show as you're washing dishes and you can't hear all the blood curdling screams that come from the little people you created as they fight over who gets the one purple shark car out of the, literally, hundreds of other matchbox cars in the container to choose from. In fact, just go ahead and throw that one car out if they fight over it. It's not worth it and you know it. Along with everyone else and their sister, I've been on a mission to de-clutter and attempt a short embrace with minimalism. I can only have a short one because if I'm honest, I'd buy all the discounted yoga pants and athletic shoes I find if I could. You only live once right? Can't take the money with ya, right? It's a problem I'm working on. Still, I've been donating our clothes, toys, kitchen items, books, movies, and home decor like a crazy person and I'll let you in on a secret. You can't even freakin' tell. It's bad. Just this weekend I knew I was going to feel an enormous weight lifted when I packed my car down, packed to the vents, with stuff and sent it off to the local thrift store. Much to my surprise, though--I can't even tell. We acquire so much STUFF and if Jordan and I don't move every year then we start to become loaded down by it if we're not careful. Civilian life has been weird in that aspect. I didn't think I would miss moving often, but I sort of do. It's as if you get a clean slate at each new place. It's a new opportunity to start fresh in schedules, routines, and more. But that's what January is for, too. 2017 is here and I've got faith it will be our best year yet!

Denali National Park circa July 2010

The renewing of my attitude is something that I want to make a conscious effort in changing this year. This morning I woke up feeling the familiar tug from Satan telling me that I'm just not good enough. Jordan has been out of town on business this week so I've not had extra help with getting the kids to and fro. I cancelled some of Abe's therapy appointments today because of time conflicts with school and babysitting options. It shouldn't be a big deal. It shouldn't be the end of the world, but in my mind I'm sad because he has all this extra stuff to deal with. I don't want him to think of himself as different in a bad way. Rather, I'd like him to wake up and feel great about himself knowing that he overcomes obstacles in listening and hearing hourly that most will never have to endure and he does it with such a tenacious spirit that other people envy his positivity and want it to rub off on them. I want him to be everything that I am not. Because when I wake up and see all the hungry tummies, the hour on the clock, and the busy schedule in front of us- it might as well be Mt. Everest. I've never been this way. I used to wake up feeling like I could do anything I set my mind to do and deep down, I know that I still can if it's in God's will, but it's as if I can't find the right settings in my brain. Listen, I know I'm a great mom. I do crappy things, but at the end of the day I've poured every last little bit of me into them and that's all I can do. We're afloat and that's good. I've got to let these little things go. It's not the end of the world if he misses therapy.

When I spend time with my Creator--when I slow down this busy schedule of ours and hold my babies and read His Word, I'm reminded that each morning He prepares me for my work. In Philippians, it says He "strengthens" me. Just like the spirit of newness that comes with a move or a new calendar year, God gives us the opportunity to start fresh each morning.

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:22-23)

"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5)

The inspired Word of God tells me that I have hope in this life and so I will. Thank you, Lord for another day spent with my kids. GREAT is thy faithfulness Lord unto me.

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