Burdened With Inadequacy

There is a little piece of truth I hide from myself.  I keep it covered over just beyond the edge of my mind.  Once in awhile, when I'm not careful, it pops up and forces me to see it.  It's only there for a fleeting moment before I avert my gaze and cover it once again so I don't have to face it.

To be candid, if I face this truth full on, if I take it out and examine it, then I will not only have to do something about it, I will have to admit that I have failed.  And one of my biggest fears is failure.

This little piece of truth is not really all that little.  And I'm pretty sure that more than likely what I try to hide from myself is not at all hidden from anyone that knows me.  It's definitely not hidden from God.

But yet, I continue to deceive myself that as long as I don't look at this truth full on, it is not so.

The truth?  I cope.  

That's it.  I cope.  I spend each day getting things done that can no longer be left undone.  I feed people because they require sustenance to live.  I get children up and out the door because they have some place they have to be.  I attend appointments to keep us healthy or looking civilized.  I work because it is income.  I volunteer because it is the one last thread I am trying to hold on to that connects me to a world outside of my home.

Somehow, most things get done.  But they aren't usually done until they have to be done.  And then, they usually aren't done as well as I would want them to be done.   

And that is where I feel I fail.  Because I would like to do this thing called motherhood well.  I would like to do this project of homemaking well.  But I don't.  I dream, I plan, I attempt.  I fail.

I would like to have myself and my family and my home organized with a working routine established.  But I don't.  I would like to have all our meals planned ahead so I'm not scrambling by 5 pm.  But I don't.  I would like to have a cleaning schedule I follow faithfully so I am not up late the night before someone is coming over clearing piles and vacuuming.  But I don't. 

As I struggle with this seemingly endless burden of wallowing in unaccomplished failure, I have begun to ask myself a few questions.  Questions like, where did I get the idea of what our home and life should look like?  Who am I trying to be like?  Do the things I feel I should be doing better truly need changing?  Where does this burden of inadequacy and failure stem from?

I have no answers yet, maybe I never will for some of my questions, but I have started on a journey of trying to uncover who I am vs who I think I should be.  I have a feeling it's not going to be an easy journey.

And I really don't think I am alone.  I think feelings of inadequacy and failure is something that a lot of women struggle with.  Maybe if we stopped comparing ourselves to one another and supported each other instead we might just reshape our worlds.

Thrifting Fun Re-Discovered

For the past 8 1/2 years I have found myself to be in a bit of a rut.  A lovely, life-giving, nurturing, amazing rut, but a rut none the less.  During these last 8 1/2 years, I have been pregnant, breastfeeding and continuously carrying a small person on my body.  And these have all been done simultaneously.

Life is a little simpler now that I have only Dylan for most days.  He's going to be 3 in a few months so some things, like getting dressed beyond yoga pants and a t-shirt for example, are a lot easier.  I actually strive to wear things I LIKE, not just things that are clean or breastfeeding accessible.  Some days I even have time to put thought into both my outfit AND my accessories.

I've also been trying to use some of my new found time to continue sorting various area of our home that have been neglected for awhile.  Our bedroom has been one of these areas.  I was sincerely surprised when I discovered a box of my jewelry stashed on top of my armoire to keep it out of reach of tiny hands.  I had forgotten about it.  Sorting through it was like opening a wonderful, unexpected present!  It was a walk down memory lane as I recalled acquiring most of the items and how much I enjoyed wearing them.

But in truth, I was really rediscovering just how much I enjoy pretty things.  In a house full of little's with all the many needs that come with little's and their sticky hands, there hasn't been much of me left to focus on unnecessary pretty. 

Another fun thing I recently rediscover - THRIFTING.  How fun is that!

A couple of months ago, after dropping off a van load of donatable goods at Value Village, I decided to go in and do some browsing.  It was my first time in the store that had opened sometime in the last couple of years.  I had previously donated there, but had never gone in. 

I was in need of a new wallet as mine was tattery and starting to split.  I was specifically looking for something not black and I found a deep red one.  So I also bought this pretty purse to put the new wallet in.  Since I no longer need to take a diaper bag with me everywhere (yay!!), a slightly bigger purse is ideal for me right now to slip water bottles, snack cups and a couple of toys into.

Cute new shoes!!

I've since made another shop in the store and these are my favorite find yet:  cute new shoes!!


Recently Luke and I went out for an evening of just the two of us that consisted of dinner out and listening to a band a friend of ours plays bass in.  I wore my new shoes.  We shared a table with another friend, Alanna, who just happens to be the wife of the bassist.  I was so pleased with myself (really, it was just my new shoes I was so pleased with) that I made sure to point them out to her.  She's actually the one who has inspired me to enjoy thrifting again.  She's also the very lovely author of the blog, Selfbinding Retrospect, where she does a Thrift Blitz that I'll be linking this post too.  Hop on over to her blog website to see all the treasures she finds. 

What Pants Are They Wearing?

Recently I was presented with a daunting challenge.  I believe it's a challenge all families come face-to-face with at some point, but, for me, this time it was more intense than usual.

The challenge: wrestling that monumental pile of laundry into baskets of clean, ready-to-wear clothes.  Or, if done especially well, having those clean, folded clothes put away in drawers and closets with the laundry baskets empty and stacked ready for the next challenge

Usually I don't find laundry too overwhelming as long as I keep at it regularly. Sure, there are weeks when the boys know they should just dig through the basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find the underwear they need or the shirt they want.  But I believe there are more weeks without baskets of unfolded clothes tucked against walls or in corners than with.  Or, maybe I just delude myself into believing that.

However, laundry has been neglected terribly as I have been extremely busy.  Deadlines have loomed, papers have been scattered throughout the dining room, and I've been planted in front of the computer most of my days and well into the nights.  I've been living on caffeine and the thought that there would soon come an end to it all.

Clothes have been left unwashed in overflowing hampers and baskets.  Each night I would have the same conversation with the boys as they were laying out their clothes for the following day, "Do you have clean socks for tomorrow?  How about a clean shirt?  Underwear?  No?, OK, lets go dig through the basket of clean to see what we can find...whew!  1 pair, well, at least the important basics are covered."  

Finally the day I dreaded came when I realized the boys' clean pants were no longer a neatly folded pile in the closet but instead just part of the overflow of the laundry hampers.  Ugh!!  The load I least like to do when the sun is shining and the grass is green.  

Again I spent my few precious moments alone that evening and into the night working while everyone was lovely and quietly asleep in their beds.  However, I took a necessary break from the computer long enough to pick through the many laundry hampers to collect together just the boys' jeans.  Pockets were checked for the many and varied bits of boy treasure.  Knees were scrubbed in an effort to remove remnants of mud and grass.  The constant need to scrub at pants in the warm weather is probably the biggest reason the pile of pants was left to grow into two large loads with a few pairs left ready for the next time!  

I crawled into bed in the wee hours leaving two baskets of clean, wet jeans sitting ready to be hung out when daylight brought the promise of sunshine and spring.  I hung up those pants one by one and enjoyed the warmth of the sun shining on me.  My mind wandered aimlessly until I began to wonder, "What pants are they wearing to school today??" 

"Are they even wearing pants??"

And because I was particularly tired that morning after another very late night in a long string of very late nights, I decided it would be interesting to see what they were wearing when they came home.  I can honestly say I was actually a little relieved to see they all came home with semi-clean, decent looking pants on that day.

Joyful Exuberance

Chubby 2 year old feet pound the hallway floor ahead of me.  No pitter-patter in this house.  Always loud.  Always fast.  Always joy in motion.  

Outstretched arms reach for walls just beyond the touch of your straining fingertips.  Making contact would only have slowed you down anyway.  But solid, sweet hands flutter regardless, feeling the wind created by your own speed.  Speed.  You feel so fast, so free.  An unquenchable squeal escapes as you turn your head to look over your shoulder.  As usual, you are checking to make sure I am following your lead.  Crinkled nose.  Sparkling blue eyes. Open-mouthed grin.  How could I possibly resist following?  

Lifting my knees in a march-style run designed purely to make you laugh; I bend my elbows and pump my fisted hands in a matching rhythm.  Just as I predicted, you find me irresistible.   Turning mid-stride, it is only by some miraculous maneuver that keeps you from tumbling backwards as you launch your small, wriggling body at me.  It's with a practiced reflex that lets me catch you midair and swing you above my head, laughing with you at your exuberance.

Bursting through the doorway together, we have completed the trek once more.  This dance we do down the hall with you in lead, me at your heels. It is a ritual of sorts really.  One perfected by the repetitive trips made daily to the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

It's one of those mommy-moments I never forethought in my daydreams of baby-bearing and rearing and all that would entail.  But it is a moment worth celebrating with each and every child born.  YAY you!   And it is no matter that together we visit that tiny room in our house countless times each day.  Every time we do it means you are a big boy now, all grown up and big enough to use the potty on your own, EVERY time!

On Teacups and Friendships

Life's busyness doesn't always leave room to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.  Drinking tea from a proper teacup and saucer.  Enjoying dainty treats made by hands other than your own.  Laughing.  Savouring the moments with friends made special through shared life-stories, hurts, triumphs, fears, laughter and joy.  Deepening friendships newly made.

With the many to-dos waiting to be done and the varied lists of needs yet to be fulfilled, it's too easy to get caught up in the getting-it-all-done.  It's too easy to be caught up in bearing daily life burdens alone.  It's too easy to mistakenly think we are each the only one with these many demands on our abilities, on our resources of inner strength, on our oh-so-precious time.

But it was in the enjoyment of a tea party amidst a roomful of women of all ages and stages of life where I was reminded that I am not so alone as I sometimes delude myself into believing.  It was in sitting with my dear friends that I was refreshed after a day made long by my own unkind, unprompted emotions.  It was in the sharing of burdens when I was nudged to remember I am not the only one facing these daily struggles of motherhood and cooking and loving and cleaning and dreaming and praying for these families we are entrusted with.

It was a tea party with fancy hats, delicate teacups and saucers, a fun photo booth and friendships.  We smiled.  We laughed.  We talked.  We shared.  A few of us even shed a tear as we listened to the life story of a woman made wise with embracing life as it unraveled before her.  A story permeated with her trust that God would see her through both difficult and joyful times.

The day began with bearing emotional encumbrances alone.  The day ended with a hot cup of tea infused with gentle reminders that I am not alone, that I am not the only one traversing this road of motherhood and womanhood.  

Enjoying a cup of tea is all about slowing down the hurry's and the have-tos of the day to enjoy the moment.  It is savouring the delicate aroma wafting from the warm amber liquid before that first lovely sip of infused flavour.  Mingling our hearts and time with our friends infuses our joys so the harshness of life is lessened.

My Days of Tomorrow

There was nothing that stuck out significantly to indicate that this night's established 'tucking-in' would be different from any other night.  The floor of Evan and Nicholas's room was finally clear of toys and after lighting the Cars stoplight nightlight, I pushed play on the CD player to hear the introductory notes to the theme song of their bedtime story CD.  I wished both squirming boys 'sweet dreams' mixed with 'I love you's' while giving multiple snuggles.

Turning off the overhead light I slung Dylan into his customary place on my hip and made only a feeble protest at taking him with me down to James and Morgan's room.  It's not that I don't want the munchkin with me, it's the busyness that trails alongside him I could sometimes do without.  To say he is distracting is an understatement.

Entering their room, I immediately knew Morgan was upset.  Only their sleepy faces peered at me from their mounds of handmade quilts, overstuffed pillows and various plush and hard toys.  While James's eyes lit up with pleasure at seeing his baby brother to say 'night-night' to, Morgan's red-rimmed eyes threatened to spill unshed tears.  Dylan pushed away from me wanting to be swung to the floor, forward momentum immediately propelling him in his climb up and over Morgan so he could get a drink from the nighttime water cup sitting on the bed shelf.

I stepped up onto the ladder for the top bunk and brushed a kiss across James's cheek. His skinny arms twined around my neck to hold me close so he could return the kiss and nuzzle his cheek against mine.

"'Night mom," he said.  "It was a good day today.  What took you so long?"

"I had to help your brothers put some things away,"  I answered.  "Dylan and Nicholas dumped out the Lego and dinosaurs."

Pushing at my legs, the small whirlwind informed me it was his turn to say good-night to James.  I stepped sideways off the ladder as Dylan's compact body slipped up the ladder like he had been climbing since birth.  Lowering myself to sit on the edge of the mattress, I rubbed my hand along Morgan's slim back as I leaned over to kiss his cheek.  His beautiful brown eyes filled with emotion blinked tear-soaked lashes.  He glanced at me then quickly away causing a few rogue tears to escape and trickle down the cheek I had just kissed.  He turned his face into the pillow in an attempt to hide the emotion.  Morgan's sensitive soul often causes his heart to hurt.

"Morgan, my boy, what's the matter?"  I asked him.

Inhaling deeply, he bit his lower lip before answering.  "I was just thinking tonight about when we grow up.  What are you going to do when we grow up?  I mean...", he paused, his big eyes turning to me with absolute anguish in them, "...someday we're going to grow up and then you'll be home all by yourself all day.  And dad is at work all day.  And you..."  another pause as he buried his face in the pillow again.  The next words were muffled by both the pillow and the emotion he couldn't contain. "You'll be alone all day and you'll have to do all the work yourself.  We won't be here to help you."  Looking at me again his long, dark lashes had matted together, the tears still brimming.   "And I just don't know what you'll do when we're all grown up!"

I ran my hand down his soft boy cheek.  Our bodies shifted as Dylan clambered between us, his elbow caused my glasses to shift sideways and his knees dug into Morgan's chest and arm.  I adjusted my glasses back to their rightful position before scooting Dylan off of Morgan.  Dylan began burrowing into the blankets, his feet bumping the wall and his head colliding with Morgan's shoulder.  I gently brushed those heartfelt tears from the cheek of this sensitive child and cupped my hand under his chin to turn him to face me more fully.  My mind fast-forwarding to days where floors are free of Lego, laundry piles have dwindled, to-do lists are checked off and the walls ring only with echos of laughter and screeching.

"Morgan," I said as I lowered my forehead to lean against his, "those days are a long time in the future.  We don't need to worry about them just yet."  But even as I said the words, I didn't fully believe them myself.

A long heart-to-heart kept our heads bent close until we finally brought our quiet chat to a close by lifting our burdens for the future in prayer.  He gave me a small smile, his eyes now drooping heavily with sleep.  I tucked the blankets more snugly around his shoulders before straightening myself to do the same around James's sleeping form.  From the doorway I looked back over my shoulder to make sure both sets of eyes were closed.  Turning out the overhead light, I left them sleeping peacefully to discover what trouble Dylan might have found when he left the room ahead of me.

I can only trust that there was soothing balm for Morgan's hurting heart in the words and prayers we spoke.  I can only pray that he always remembers those precious moments when we shared our worries of the future together, even if they were in the midst of chatter, busyness and bumps.  Because sometimes it doesn't matter what else is going on, there is a heart that needs tending to right now.

May those lonely days of the future never be fulfilled.  May the days of the present instead be as full of laughter and noise and dirty clothes and laid aside toys that the gusto of five boys bring with them.  And may all the fullness of life today spill forever over into my days of tomorrow.

Possibilities

It was a loooong time coming for James and Morgan.  We decided the multipurpose room downstairs would be renovated into a bedroom for the two of them to share.  However, the logistics behind that undertaking were extensive - at least for our limited space and the time we could designate to remodeling the room.

When Dylan was about four months old, the time had come for him to move out of our room.  The memories are a bit hazy, but I'm pretty sure I was still up with him when Luke's alarm was going off at 5:15 am.  I don't think I had even stretched out in bed that night; I was surprised Luke got any sleep at all between Dylan's fussing and my movements.  The next night I declared Dylan was sleeping in his own room!  It was an evening of bed-shifting: Dylan into the crib in Nicholas and Evan's room; Nicholas and Evan down the hall into James and Morgan's big boy bunk beds; James and Morgan into their new bunk beds set up temporarily in the living-room downstairs.

Although we functioned with the transitional setup, James and Morgan needed their own space.  They needed a room with empty shelves and floorspace, not just a makeshift area shared with furniture shoved over and instruments piled in the corners.  Their long temporary stay was in a room already full that quickly overflowed. Keepsakes and toys were without empty shelves to be put on. Clothes were without enough drawers or a closet to be put in.  And Lego was everywhere!

Luke planned and created.  I piled, shifted and finally sorted and cleared out.  And then one day, the room was finished.  The carpet was laid.  The walls were painted.  The waiting was over.

This is the beautiful end result.

A new space full of possibilities.  A room where they can carve their own story.  A room that inspires the possibilities of what decluttering and renewing a piled up area can deliver.