Wonderful Weekends

Weekends are my favorite. B.daddy is around, and I just plain like him. Also the "chronic burden of the mundane" is slightly lifted and wholely shared.
Last weekend was all about Mommy getting what she wants. ;) We got to babysit Amelia Friday night; Saturday was a fun day in; and Saturday night Mommy and Courtney went out for my monthly Mommy's Night Out with four other amazing women. Estrogen is a wonderful drug.
The weekend before that my dad was in town so we got to get out a lot more than usual. It's exhausting to get out with three kids, so we've had to bind ourselves to the house a lot since last June. But with an extra set of hands, we take it to the streets. Above, Ladybug and I are listening to a group of Inca Indians playing in Harvard Square.
And, drumroll pleeeease, this weekend Ladybug and I are flying down to spend a Love-Tank-Fill-Up weekend with my mom, sister, and their two best friends in Nashville. I'm going to get filled up on estrogen, hugs, and Sonic! I'm so excited.
For now, my babies are all crying for me to make breakfast.
I'm out~

If At First You Don't Succeed--Try, Try Again!

I pray I will never stop bragging on my husband.
When we are at our lowest...in our greatest need, our beloved ones--be they spouse, sibling, parent, or friend--are at the greatest risk of disappointing us. But as I've learned with my most favorite beloved, if they do, in fact, disappoint, give them a day or two. Then have the balls--ahem--the humility to ask for help again. Then be truly humbled and amazed as they finally* hear your cry, come to your rescue, and protect you from all the forces of the world.
This is romance.
The sacred, sacrificial love God has so mercifully made available to us, through us, for Him.
My husband, my Father, my life.

"I have come that they may have life and have it abundantly." John 10:10

*Finally. What a beautiful word that is. With such distaste, and even disgust, do we think on waiting. But with such glorious release do we exclaim, "Finally!"
For nine months my body contorts with your creation, and "Finally!" this body releases your wet, blue body--warm, whole, alive.
For two years I impatiently wait for you to ask me that crucial question, and "Finally!" our hearts are One and will never be Two again.
For nearly twenty-seven years, my heart has swelled and ached with love and pain, and, "Finally!" You give me another tiny glimpse of Your Truth that, to me, is monumental. One, single part of Your Infinite Being changes my entire life. But can I even use those words? Tiny, single? Do those even apply?

Do You Want Mommy To Go Ballistic?

It's barely 9 a.m. I've put Ladybug down for her nap, and I'm getting the other two ready for alone time. I can feel it slipping. I can't hold on much longer without a break. Then Gizmo screams at me. Again. This time I scream back. Li'l Bit starts bawling, but Gizmo is too proud to cry. Alone time begins.

My poor husband tries to help. He sits with me on the phone in silence for thirty minutes, but all I can think about is the pile of work just sitting there on his desk. I'm making his day hard, too. It's not until I talk to a fellow mom--a very honest one--that the fog starts to clear. She's struggling, too. She feels guilty, too. You see, this all sounds melodramatic. And, really, it feels melodramatic. But that doesn't mean I can just snap out of it. And it doesn't mean there isn't a real source. There is a source, and it is my responsibility--with the help of my clear-sighted husband--to find it, pull it apart, and not let it rob us of life to the fullest.

~~~

A good, Christian mom is calm, sweet, and patient. She stays home to care for her growing mass of children. She collectedly spanks them every time they disobey her, so (of course) she has well-behaved children who are, in turn, learning to obey God. She cooks great meals for her family and keeps a tidy house. She smiles. She prays. She reads her Bible everyday without falling asleep or wishing she were reading her new novel instead. Shall I go on?

Yeah, didn't think so. It sounds absurd (and unattainable--kinda' the point here) when you write it all out like that. But the reality is that we have this picture in our heads of what we are supposed to be like as moms. Whatever each of our pictures looks like, it is a crushing image.

I really don't think days like today would be so hard if I weren't so disgustingly disappointed in myself. Granted there are other practical issues that can cause or cure a day like today. But if I took a long, hard look at what I really...really want to be--I think I might be surprised at what I see, as well as, how free I am to be me. I need to take a look.

So in the meantime, I find I'm asking my "warning question" a lot. "Do you want Mommy to go ballistic?" They look at me with puzzled half-grins and shake their heads "No." As crazy as it sounds, it seems to get the point across before I actually go ballistic...most of the time. ;)