Adapting to last minute changes

Yesterday was Wynter's very first 4th of July, and Oliver's 3rd.  This year is the first year that Andrew and I didn't even contemplate making plans to see any fireworks.  We saw some on our drive home from my mom's house where we'd spent the evening, but other than that we chose not to care about firework shows this year.

Instead we had a little bonfire, barbecued hamburgers with my brothers, roasted hotdogs, and made s'mores.

I had made all these plans about going to my mom's, taking our time to get a fire built, roasting hot dogs together, and then making s'mores as the sun set.  I knew it would be more difficult with the kids, but I figured if we didn't rush things and we worked together it would still be lots of fun.  I was going to take pictures of us around the fire, happy, laughing, and having fun.

Nothing went like I'd planned.

Instead some of the boys wanted hamburgers, and Andrew decided he also wanted a hamburger.  The only person who roasted any hotdogs was me.  Can you picture that? Me, all alone, sitting at the fire, holding a baby and trying to roast a hot dog.  The first one fell into the fire.  The second one I got roasted just right while my mom held Wynter.  But I was feeling a little upset that the plans I had carefully made and the dinner I had thoughtfully put together had been completely ignored.

Then, I'd barely finished eating my 1 hot dog before all the boys decided it was time to do s'mores.  So I scarfed down a few marshmellows and one s'more before I had to go nurse Wynter because she was so very unhappy, hungry, and tired.

I grabbed some more food for myself because one hot dog does not a dinner make, and headed into the game room to sulk and watch tv while I nursed Wynter.

After a while I was able to rejoin the family for a little bit and take some pictures that I actually love.

Gorgeous baby girl having a happy moment.

Daddy and son dipping their feet in the pool.

After being outside, enjoying the cooler weather from after the rain we had earlier in the day, we all found our way back inside.  Wynter began to have another meltdown, so while I tried to calm her the boys cleaned up our dinner mess.  It wasn't long before I was on the verge of a meltdown myself.  My brothers set up to play a card game, and I was ready to leave and call it a night. 

My brother, Jesse.

My brother, Judah.

My brother, Justin.

Andrew wanted to stay a little longer so we headed upstairs to see if we would have better luck with playing in the game room, and we did.

By the time we finally left both Andrew and I were exhausted physically and emotionally.  We barely cared about anything but getting home and getting the kids in bed, then crashing ourselves.  All of which we did.

I remember that my brothers made a few comments during the night that made me less than proud of the way we handled our evening.  They commented that parenting looked stressful, and it is, but I want them to see how much we love our kids too and that though it can be rough it's also brought us some of the happiest times we've ever had.

The day did not go at all how I had planned, in fact almost every single plan I made was thwarted and changed.  I'm trying to learn to be flexible so that days like yesterday don't bother me, but I was not flexible last night.  Instead of changing my own plans to fit with everyone else, I became sour and unhappy and I did not reflect the love of Christ at all.

I know that writing this post, about what a horrible 4th I had, is probably not at all what would be expected, but sometimes we have holidays like this.  We make plans and then we feel slighted because others ignore our plans and do something else.  I'm not going to pretend I had a great evening, I was unhappy and unflexible, and I need to learn to respond with love and grace when plans change. 

How was your 4th of July celebration?  Did things go as planned, or did you have to go with the flow? Are you good at being flexible, or are you like me and have a hard time adapting to last minute changes?

Celebrating Oliver and Wynter: A Photo Post

On May 15th Oliver turned 2 years old, and a few days ago, on June 25th Wynter reached 6 months old.  These two children are so precious to me, Andrew and I are incredibly blessed to be the parents of two little miracles.  Here are some of my favorite photos from this year so far:

Grandma Sheree and Oliver exploring a creek during her visit in April.

A special moment between mother and daughter at Reid Park Zoo.

Oliver playing in his sand and water toy.

I can't believe it has been 2 years since Oliver Sebastian Whiting entered this world!

Father's Day at Limberlost Park.  Father and son in matching Converse shoes.

At the park, mother and daughter trying to survive the heat.

Wynter, 6 months old and on the move!  The time since she was born has gone much faster than I'd hoped, but I love watching her curiosity grow, and seeing her try out new things every day.

I'm excited to experience the next 6 months of Wynter's first year and watch her learn many new things in such a very short time.  Oliver too, as he is still amazing me with the things he picks up from the people around him every day!

Life With Children

The above picture is just a tiny glimpse into daily life in our home.  This particular morning I had accidentally left the movie cabinet unlocked and Oliver decided this was a prime opportunity to help me reorganize them.  As soon as he discovered my mistake he promptly pulled out nearly all our DVDs, opened a few, spread discs all over the floor, and then abandoned his mess.  Wynter saw what great fun Oliver was having and offered her assistance as well.  She enjoyed chewing on the cases, or the free floating DVDs, and rolling in the mess as though it were a fun pile of fallen leaves.

I had noticed the beginning of this mess, and could have stopped it before it got out of hand, but they were both having so much fun that I decided to indulge them this once.  Normally I'm pretty diligent about keeping the baby lock on that cabinet because I don't want Oliver doing exactly this.

In my last post, 1,2,3, I talked about "letting go".  I mentioned letting go in regards to schedules, housekeeping, and structure, but really you have to learn to let go in all areas of your life when you have children.  Do you laugh, or yell when you find your toddler has dumped water all over your bathroom floor?  Do you cherish, or cry over the time spent lying on the couch because your baby refuses to sleep anywhere but in your arms?  What about when they are both crying or screaming? 

I am nowhere near perfect, or even decent, in my responses.  I often do cry over the time spent on the couch, or scream about the mess I didn't want to deal with, and when they both start crying my response is more often to be louder than them.  (So, this post is more for myself than anyone else.) A day, even just an hour, with children can be extremely trying and stressful.  I have a choice every day to either add to it with my sinful responses, or to lessen it by letting go.  Is it not better and less stressful to laugh over a mess and help your child clean it up?  Is not time spent better cherishing a quiet moment with your baby?  And does adding your loud complaints to your children's raise or lower the stress in that moment?

On days that I stress about messes, or cry over my lack of me time, I don't enjoy being a mother and I don't enjoy my children.  However, on the days where I let go and laugh over messes, cherish the baby in my arms who is growing much to fast, and tend to their desires before mine we are all much happier, and I actually love being with my children and am able to enjoy them.

P.S. I do think that there are times when crying, screaming, or yelling are not sin.  Sometimes I cry and scream out my desperation to God, begging for his help because there is no way I can live out this calling to motherhood without Him.  And sometimes I yell at Oliver because he is headed recklessly toward danger.  I even think that crying to release emotion is okay, and it is my experience that 9 to 12 months of the first year after a baby is born are wrought with intense emotions.  We need to examine our hearts constantly so that our emotions are not products of sin, and we need to remember that calling on God for help with ANYTHING is 100% a good thing.

1, 2, 3...

I have so much I want to say, but I can't seem to put my thoughts together well right now.  I've started and deleted 3 different blog posts already.  It's currently one of those rare times that both of my children are sleeping, and I really wanted to blog, but apparently my brain doesn't want to cooperate.  Maybe if I just do a brief rundown of what I've been trying to say I'll be able to get some of my thoughts down.  I can always expand on it later.

1) Identity.  I don't know if I struggle with this more or less than others, but it's been a struggle all my life.  I'm always worried with fitting in somewhere, or being a certain kind of person (or mother, or wife), and it often takes deliberate thought for me to determine honestly who I am.  I am not defined by how many kids I have, or by breastfeeding, or babywearing, or my choice of parenting style.  I am not defined by the clothes I wear, or how I style my hair.  I am not defined by the books I read, or the movies I watch, or the music I listen to.  I am defined by Christ, and all those other facets of who I am are defined by that. 

I parent the way I do because of who I am in Christ.
I wear the clothes I wear because of who I am in Christ.
I read the books I read, watch the movies I watch, and listen to the music I listen to because of who I am in Christ.

When I remember that, then I feel confident.  When I forget, I begin to question everything and worry that I do not fit where I want to fit.

2)  Advice to mothers. Life changes after every baby.  I know people who have said it, and I know I have said it, but life doesn't go back to normal after a new baby.  Life changes and a new normal has to be formed, or you will drive yourself crazy trying to live as if life hasn't changed at all.  I've had to let go.  There's really no better way to put it.  I've tried to hold onto certain things, structure, schedules, order, and all it does is stress me out.  I've learned that it's better to let a new normal form, than to try and hold onto any previous normal.  It takes time to figure out the new normal, but it's much less stressful.  Life with little children works a lot better when I just let go.

This is my new normal: A constantly messy house in one place or another, it is never all clean at once.  Dinner is simpler, quicker, and later.  Errands are best done early in the day, and should be condensed as much as possible.  Wynter will sleep when she wants, scheduling naps can come later.  My level of patience is directly linked to whether or not I've let go of expectations or not.  Caffeine in some form is a necessity.

3) Children will teach you just how selfish you are.  They need everything from you, demand everything from you, and more.  I can't count how many times I've sat down and literally said, "I have nothing left to give, you took it all already."  Thank the Lord He is able to provide when that happens so I can keep giving, because even if I have nothing left to give the children will keep taking.

Learning Lessons in Hardships, Finding Rest in Joy

I used to think that if Oliver was just a little older, able to communicate his wants and needs in full sentences, or a little bit more obedient than having a second baby in the house wouldn't be as difficult.  I know parents often agonize over when the right time is to have a second child.  Many factors are considered, such as age of the first born, finances, living situation, etc.  It's a hard decision, and I think that when it comes down to it there is no "perfect" time for that second baby, and the "right" time really depends on the family and what is important to them.

For us it was important that Oliver not be too much older than our second baby.  We thought that it would help minimize jealousy, and create a closer bond because he wouldn't remember ever being an only child.  It made perfect sense until right before Wynter was born.  A few weeks before her due date I was suddenly worried that I was stealing something special from Oliver, more time as the treasured only child.  I was worried about how he'd feel about no longer being the sole baby in the house.  I agonized over this, and even cried a few times.  Thanks to a long conversation with a good friend I was able to let go of that guilt and seeing Oliver with Wynter now helps me from feeling any regret over timing. He loves her so much and it's very obvious.

Even though I don't regret how close they are in age, there is no denying that having two children in diapers and neither of them talking (for the most part) is much harder than I thought it would be. Like I said, I used to think it would be so much easier if Oliver was older and able to communicate with understandable words, and maybe potty trained, or able to pick up his own toys.  Recently I have come to the conclusion that each age comes with it's own set of challenges.  Even if Oliver could talk, pick up his toys, or go potty in the toilet, there would be other challenges to deal with.  I don't think that age makes a difference anymore, at lease in regards to the challenge of being a mother of two versus a mother of one.

Coming to this realization has changed my perspective a little.  Honestly, every realization I have regarding motherhood gives me a new or broader perspective.  Figuring out that being a mother of two is impossibly challenging regardless of how old the first born child is really pulled me out of my own head a little.  Of course the exact details of my day to day challenges are unique to our situation and children, but I began to see that regardless of who you are, regardless of your circumstances, adding that second child magnifies the difficulties of motherhood immensely. 

It has also magnified my joy, and my love.  It's hard to see that sometimes because sorrow, frustration, and anger can be so much louder than happiness and contentment.  I was reading in Ecclesiastes today and came upon chapter 7, verse 3.  It says, "Sorrow is better than laughter, for when a face is sad a heart may be happy".  The commentary for this verse says, "...happy times generally teach us less than hard times."  It is painful, and harsh, but true.  The daily hardships of motherhood nearly always teach me something, while the easier happy times are mostly full of peaceful rest for my soul.  For this reason it often feels like the hard times are more frequent, even more memorable than the times of happiness and peace.

Then, just as I was really sinking into despair today because I felt like the challenges of today would be my challenges forever, God reminded me of His grace and gave me hope.

"Indeed, there is not a righteous man on earth who continually does good and who never sins." 

Ecclesiastes 7:20

It is reassuring to be reminded that perfection is unattainable on this earth, though that doesn't stop me from looking to Christ for transformation.

The Lord's lovingkindness indeed never ceases,

For His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.
"The Lord is my portion," says my soul,

"Therefore I have hope in Him."

Lamentations 3:22-24

When hope is lost we need to remember God's faithfulness, His love, and the hope we have in Him.

I called on Your name, O Lord,

Out of the lowest pit.
You have heard my voice,

"Do not hide Your ear from my prayer for relief,

From my cry for help."

You drew near when I called on You;

You said, "Do not fear!"

O Lord, You have pleaded my soul's cause;

You have redeemed my life.

Lamentations 3:55-58

Last, but maybe most of all, these 4 verses gave me strength.  Despair is a pit of darkness that blots out hope.  While drowning in that pit I forget that God can reach into the deepest, darkest places of despair and help us out, back into the light.  He will always hear us, and He will always help us. It is God who brings light into the darkness, and hope to the hopeless.

Dark Clouds

I don't normally like to compare gloomy feelings with "gloomy" weather because I am a huge fan of rain, dark clouds, lightning storms, cold, so called gloomy weather.  However, dark clouds blot out the sun, just like depression and feelings of hopelessness blot out happiness and joy, so I think the comparison is appropriate.

If I were a character in Winnie the Pooh, it would be Eeyore.

 Lately that's how I've felt, I mentioned it in my last post, like dark clouds have blocked out the happiness and joy that my life should bring. 

I should say here that I do not want to write about this at all, but I am because this is something everyone says you shouldn't hide, and because my tendency is to hide it in shame and fear, but if I knew someone who was going through this I would want them to be open about it so that I could be supportive and helpful.

_______________

"Good morning, Pooh Bear," said Eeyore gloomily. "If it is a good morning," he said. "Which I doubt," said he.

________________

 Postpartum depression (ugh, even the name is depressing) is supposedly very common.  I'll spare you statistics and symptoms because you can Google it and find millions of sites giving you that information.  Even though I wasn't diagnosed with it last time, I am certain it stole the first 5-7 months after Oliver was born.  I started pulling out of it because of the holidays, but I don't think it was until after we moved when he was 9 months old that it was completely gone.

This time I fought really hard against getting depressed because I didn't want to feel that way ever again.  Anytime I thought I might be getting depressed I would try to identify something that would lift my spirits and do it, or identify what was causing it and fix it if possible.  Recently, nothing was working.

(Side note: this showed up in my Facebook feed this morning. Please listen to the interview, it's really very good.)

God is an amazing God. As I talked about in my last post He used a song to really uplift my spirit.  He gave me a break yesterday too, it was the easiest, most stress free day I've had in weeks.  His timing is impeccable as well.  I had given up and given in.  I no longer cared if I spent the day on the couch.  Just doing the basics (changing diapers, getting dressed, fixing food, etc.) had become so difficult.  I repeatedly thought things like, "I hate my life", or "I hate myself", or "why did I ever think I could be a good mom". 

It took me a long time to admit I was feeling this way too. I thought that if I admitted it then I was saying several things, that I wasn't a good mom, that I didn't love my husband or children, that I was not thankful or unsatisfied with the life God had given me, even that I was losing site of the Gospel because I was feeling hopeless.  There is also that irrational (though it really doesn't feel irrational, and for me has been the overriding reason for remaining in denial outwardly) fear that if you admit to feeling this way then the state will be notified that you are not a fit parent and your kids will be taken away from you.

Here is the hard truth that I had to face, my hopelessness was a product of my happiness relying on things and people who are not God and can only provide temporary, imperfect happiness and joy.  When I faced that it didn't make me feel any less depressed, in fact I think that's when I decided to just give up because I despaired in the fact that I could not bring myself to stop idolizing people and things and place my reliance in God alone.  It wasn't until God reminded me, through the song 10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman, that it isn't by my own strength that I can change, but by God's.  That is the glorious truth that renewed my spirit and lifted me out of the extreme hopelessness I had found myself in.

As the Sun Sets

Currently my favorite song is 10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman.  It's got a beautiful tune and really uplifting lyrics.  However, it wasn't until today that it really became a personal prayer and worship song.

This morning has been a rare morning.  I actually was able to get up and fix my husband breakfast and make his lunch, something I haven't been able to do for at least 2 weeks.  Normally Wynter is attached to me at that time getting her breakfast.  For Andrew being served breakfast and having his lunch made by me says 'I love you'.  I don't always like doing it, but I do know how much it means to him and so I prefer being able to do it even when I don't actually want to do it.

I also got to take a shower this morning! Ever since Wynter was born my showers have to be done at night before bed if I want one during the week.  Sometimes Oliver and Wynter will cooperate and I'll get to take a quick one in the morning while they play, but that's not even a once a month occurrence.  Wynter was awake, but Oliver slept in today and so I just plopped Wynter in her bumbo seat and took a shower.  I even had time to shave my legs!  (The simple pleasures of motherhood...)

So this morning I was in a pretty good mood.  The chorus of 10,000 Reasons popped into my head as I was showering, "Bless the Lord, Oh my soul...".  And then so did the beginning of the first verse, "The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning...".  You know how it is when a song gets stuck in your head and you can't remember most of it?  Yeah, so I went and looked up the lyrics and pulled up the song on YouTube.  When I read the lyrics of the first verse it was like God was sending me a message.

The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning

It's time to sing Your song again

Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me

Let me be singing when the evening comes

Lately life has been drowning me.  Each day starts okay, but by noon I am drained, and somewhere around 1 or 2pm I lose it.  I'm not even going to describe how badly I lose it because it's embarrassing and shameful.  I feel horrible about losing it, even hate myself most days, but it feels uncontrollable and comes on so fast that I feel completely unable to stop it.  By the end of the day I'm completely depressed.  Hopeless.  Deflated.  Despairing.  Almost nothing and no one can cheer me up.  I'm a complete wreck.  I feel like screaming, not singing like the song says.

Reading, "Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes" was like God reminding me that where I lack the strength to get through, He will help me.  The lyrics don't say "Whatever may pass unless it's a toddler throwing extreme tantrums all day, or a 5 month old who refuses to sleep unless in mommy's arms, or a house that is overwhelmingly messy", it just says "whatever may pass".  So this has become my daily prayer, that absolutely WHATEVER happens, I will be joyfully singing (whether actually singing, or just being joyful in my countenance and my words and my actions) as the day ends.

I know that I will not always remember to pray this prayer, and sometimes life will get the better of me, and situations that throw me into total meltdowns won't suddenly become easier or non-existent, but I do know that I have God on my side and I can always turn to Him for the strength, patience, love, self-control, kindness, gentleness, peace, and joy that I lack and He will give it to me.