Jo Saxton

Archive for the ‘Family life’ Category

I don’t know about you, but it seems that many woman who were/are expecting are faced with many an uncomfortable comment about their pregnancy.

For example, the day I told my fellow teachers I was expecting my first. One of my colleagues piped up, “I knew you had gained weight.” For the record I had actually lost weight at first, and then only gained 1 lb my first trimester…thank you.

It is almost as if pregnant women have the capacity to eliminate all tact and common sense to all passersby. Like one quick glance at the belly zaps it out in an instance.

When I was 5 months pregnant and just beginning to fit into maternity clothes another unbelievable comment was made. I was standing in line at my father’s visitation…yes it happened here. A man coming through the line hugged me, gave his condolences, then proceeded to look at my baby bump and say, “Any day now, huh?” What?!?!

Well I was in too shocked and exhausted to respond with something I’d have regretted. My husband assured me that I did not look 9 months pregnant.

So if you’ve experienced similar situations, I feel your pain. They are just one of the many memories you will hang on to, and hopefully laugh about, for years to come.

I wonder how many stay-at-home mums out there feel they are missing out on ‘the race’? I know I sometimes do. Often I feel like the Kingdom is coming, but its not coming near me! Since my second child was born 10 months ago, my life has revolved around my two small children who take up my every waking minute; one of them demands my attention all day, and the other demands it all night! I know that being a mother of small children is often a barren time spiritually, but recently I realised it is also a time when I don’t feel I’m making a valid contribution to the Kingdom either.

God recently spoke to my feelings of being on the sidelines when I was reading the latest Heidi Baker book, Compelled by Love.  In the chapter I was reading Heidi was talking about being spiritually poor and she quoted from 2 Corinthians 6 (from the New American Standard Bible):

“…giving no cause for offense in anything, so that the ministry will not be discredited, but in everything commending ourselves as servants of God, in much endurance, in afflictions, in hardships, in distresses, in beatings, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labours, in sleeplessness, in hunger, in purity, in knowledge, in patience, in kindness, in the Holy Spirit, in genuine love, in the word of truth, in the power of God; by the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and the left, by glory and dishonour, by evil report and good report; regarded as deceivers and yet true; as unknown yet well-known, as dying yet behold, we live; as punished yet not put to death, as sorrowful yet always rejoicing, as poor yet making many rich, as having nothing yet possessing all things.”

As I read the passage, some of the words jumped out at me in a new way. Instead of thinking this passage is for those people ‘out there’ doing hard-core mission, for the first time as a mum I felt like I was included in what Paul is talking about.

Though I am not on the frontline of ministry as Paul was, I too go through ‘much endurance’ as I look after my two children at home day-in and day-out, and I too feel ‘imprisoned’ when I am not free to leave the house as and when I want to because I can’t leave the children, and I too know ‘labours’ every day as I walk up and down the stairs a hundred times a day meeting the constant demands of little children, and I too know ‘sleeplessness’ with my youngest who doesn’t eat well in the
day makes up for it in the night with night feeds…and the list goes on.

God was telling me that He sees my efforts at home as valid in the Kingdom. God made this passage speak directly to my life. He saw my hidden thoughts and spoke to encourage me. As mums stuck at home, our job of raising our children is important to God. As well as telling me that my sacrifices as a mother were noticed by God and were a valid part of the work of the Kingdom, I felt there was a second part to the message – just as Paul needed the power of God to carry out his work, so
the power of God is available to us to empower us to carry out our work too.

Yes, I can relate to ‘much endurance, distresses, labours, sleeplessness, hunger,’ etc, but it’s good to know that because the first part of the passage resonates with me, the rest of the passage is for me too. In faith I can carry out my mission to raise my children ‘in purity, in knowledge, in patience, in kindness, in the Holy Spirit, in genuine love, in the word of truth, in the power of God; by the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and the left’.

How wonderful it is to know that just like Paul, I too can call on the power of God to fulfil the demands of my day with the children! When I am at my wits end, exhausted and frustrated, with feelings of failure, instead of admitting defeat and giving in to my impatience or anger, I now know I have as much right as Paul to call on divine help to persevere.

If you can relate to what I’m talking about then may God speak to you as He did to me – ‘My Beloved, you are not forgotten’.

Now, Greg and I had a little plan to start not not trying again when Lydia turned one. That would put the children almost two years apart. This time it would all be different. This time I would look “movie star” perfect and wear the pearls and apron. Well, God used the comic genius He is sometimes known for, and had a much better plan.

Wednesday, October 4, 2006. Just a normal day. Greg and I were enjoying our little four-month-old Lydia, who we were finally in a good rhythm with. We were also becoming experts at the whole parenting thing. Now I was back on the pill, and I usually start on Wednesday mornings while on this particular one. Morning came and went, but Aunt Flo still did not come a knockin’. Thinking this was odd, I took the “baby test” from the dollar store we had left over from before.

I came out of the bathroom, looked at my husband, and a curse word passed my lips. I called the doctor’s office and asked if it is common to get a false positive when taking one of these tests…I was told to come in for a blood test, great. I went in, they took my blood and would call in the next day or so with the results.

We attempted to go about our day as normal, until the Chicago Cubs World series playoff game that evening. Here comes my husband’s favourite story to tell! We are at this game, amazing the Cubbies are doing this well. We are enjoying ourselves and love showing off our little one. Well, as the drinks were consumed by those around us, the man to my left and one directly behind me began to heckle each other’s teams. It was playful at first but quickly became rude and a bit unruly. Greg turned to the instigator and tried to calm the guy down, but he was not interested in cooperating. At this point I’ve had it, mama bear is NOT happy. I jumped to my feet, baby in arms, and got in this dude’s face. I told him how rude and idiotic he was acting and that he was only embarrassing himself. My little confrontation with him did keep him quiet the rest of the game. However, when I sat back down I began to sob uncontrollably for the rest of the game. I turned to Greg and told him between sobs of my once again ugly cry, “I better…be…pregnant.”

The next day I got a call from the doctor’s office confirming that baby #2 was on the way!

Ah, finding out your pregnant. What a joyous, beautiful, and picturesque experience. You surprise your husband with the news hair perfect, face made-up, wearing pearls and an apron. He embraces you and gives you a heel-popping kiss. Yeah, not so much.

My experience were much more comical.

In Spring 2006 my husband and I felt like God was saying to put the decision to have a baby in His hands. So I stopped my pill, started prenatal vitamins, and we started “not NOT trying.” We continued with normal activities, not temperature taking or ovulation kits. We just let God take care of it.

I cried every month I found out we were not pregnant, it was dreadful. I was not worried about fertility issues. I was just SO ready to be a mom. October rolled around and I got a violent stomach flu that had been going around school. I’m talking bathroom visits every 15 minutes for hours on end. I decided I should see the doctor, but my husband suggested I take a test before heading to the appointment.

Well sure enough, I peed on a stick, the line appeared, and my hormones kicked in!

There I was in the waiting room no make-up, sick as a dog, ghastly pale, and in clothes that could double as pajamas. I could barely contain the emotion that had been building up in me since I saw the result of the pregnancy test. It is my turn to go back. As the nurse is taking my weight, temperature, etc, I lost it. I was sobbing. Now this was not some cute dainty little cry. This cry was the big ugly, can’t catch your breath, snots a runnin’ cry. The nurse asked what was wrong. I told her I might be pregnant. She asked it that was a bad thing. Whatever could have given her that idea?!?! No it wasn’t a bad thing at all, I was just a basket case.

Sure enough I was pregnant.

‘Be busy at home.’

That’s what my Bible says young wives and mothers should be. That phrase had always some-what bothered me.  To my perfectionist tendencies, it hinted at dawn-to-dusk ironing, washing, caring for children, husband, too-many guests, having cushions all aligned, scrumptious food eaten hot from the oven, and no sleep! It also didn’t sit right with me when reading the story of Jesus with Mary and Martha.  Although Martha was not wrong in her hospitality, Jesus clearly felt that relationship with him was more important than the dishes.  (Hallelujah!)

I recently read Titus 2:5 in a new light.

The King James version talks of young wives and mothers being ‘keepers of the home’.  The Greek uses the word oikourous which means ‘to guard or watch over’.  The virtuous woman of Proverbs 31 ‘watches over the affairs of her household’, with the words ‘watches over’ coming from the word tsaphah used for a ‘watchman’ in Hebrew, meaning ‘to lean forward, to peer into the distance, to observe, to keep watch.’

So it’s not all about doing then!  I suddenly understood at a much deeper level what my calling is as a mother and a wife at home.  It is to guard and watch over my home:  to be a watchwoman.  God has given me the responsibility to watch, to observe, to hold things up to him in prayer, to be aware of the influences on my family and to preempt and warn of potential dangers approaching.  When my two-year old is unsettled, it is my responsibility to watch which things are influencing him, to pray for him, to prepare him for or protect him from oncoming dangers.  When the dialogue between my husband and I is becoming more and more tense, it is my responsibility to be aware of the outside strains and pressures and spiritual warfare and bring them to the Lord in prayer.

He also asks me to be patient – to wait and watch, resting in him and trusting in Him.  Trusting that over time the seeds that have been planted in the lives of my children, husband and whoever else is currently living with us, will bear fruit.

• Where has God called you to be a watchwoman at the moment?
• What are the tasks and qualities of a watchman? How do they apply to where you are called to keep watch? (Jeremiah 6:16; Isaiah 52:8, 1 Samuel 14:16, Matthew 24:43)

My son and I did not part on great terms this morning.  You know the scenario: he couldn’t find his socks, thus was late leaving the house despite my countdown warnings, became really angry, shouted at me, and then refused to run when I said we would miss the school bus!

I commented to my neighbour who saw some of this, “Wouldn’t it be great if we had perfect children?”  Her wonderful response was that it would be rather boring!  “A kind of boring I could live with,” I thought!!

But then I considered how it is with God and us.  It would have been so easy for Him to create us as beings who were totally submissive and obedient – almost like robots – and I thought that actually I was glad to have free will.  However, if on occasions my kids annoy me, how often must I be utterly maddening to God?

Lately it’s been fascinating to watch another of my sons who seems to have suddenly grown up a lot.  I’ve been amazed at his confidence, his humour and his general maturity in a variety of different situations.  I’ve been even more proud when other people have given me positive feedback!  Of course, I raise my eyes in desperation when a minute later he’s mean to his brothers or is very immature in other ways.  What happened to my little boy?!  But it’s good to know that all those years of loving guidance and discipline are (sometimes) beginning to pay off.

I wonder how often God watches me with a warm and proud heart?  Over the years how much progress have I made as He has nurtured me?  Do I still get angry in the way I used to when someone rubs me up the wrong way?  Am I as self-centred as I was?  Do I talk more easily and freely and from a well of greater depth about my faith and friendship with God?

A good, strong, positive relationship is one of the most important and meaningful things that we can offer to our kids and, as they mature, they can offer back to us.  Of course, God doesn’t sin in how He relates to us, so that puts the responsibility of cultivating a good relationship with Him squarely on us (hopefully with the help of some close people around us).

I sometimes talk to God (or the kids) as I go about my day to day life: when driving in the car, clearing up the kitchen or when out for a walk.  I’d like to do it more!  However, I also need to make sure I don’t miss out on that ‘special time’ reading with the Lord or just talking to Him in a more intense way.  It can be hard both to have those ongoing snatched moments with the Lord and to pursue those quality times of ‘digging in deeper’.    Isn’t it wonderful when your kids sit on your knee or beside you, snuggle up and you talk or read stories together?  Isn’t it incredible when someone you love says ‘I love you!’?

Ponder

As you look back on the last 12 months, how would you say you have matured spiritually?  Where specifically do you think God is lovingly challenging you to mature right now?

I was recently in a swimming pool with my nearly-3-year-old daughter, Scarlett, at a Christian conference. There were 2 other mums in the pool with their kids and they were all queuing to go down a small crocodile slide. The other kids went down the slide into the water with great enthusiasm and much splashing, and the mums stood nearby cheering them on.  It came to Scarlett’s turn and, despite loving it the last time we were there, now she had an audience she wasn’t so keen and she froze at the top.  As we were being observed by the other mums, I was slightly embarrassed by Scarlett’s reticence and was a little irritated by her demands for me to stand at the bottom to catch her. I did stand at the bottom as she asked but unfortunately I fumbled the catch and she went under the water and came up in quite a panic! The poor child was freaked out and made a great fuss in my arms as I tried to calm her down.  In my embarrassment I scalded her for being so silly, feeling self-conscious that the other mums had witnessed my child’s pathetic attempt at coming down the slide!

Looking back at it now, I feel bad that I ridiculed Scarlett in order to save face in front of the others mums. In my head I was thinking that the incident surely showed them that I was a ‘bad mum’ because I hadn’t nurtured water-confidence in my child!  My impatient and embarrassed response revealed that, through Scarlett, I wanted their acceptance and approval when that’s exactly what I should have given to Scarlett when she needed it most at her time of vulnerability.  I felt my failure as a mum and I made Scarlett bear the brunt of it.  Surely if I was a ‘good mum’ I’d have spent more time teaching Scarlett water skills?  But even if that is so (and it’s ok with me if it is – we can’t all be good at everything), the incident made me really think about my acceptance of my child.  Am I only going to show her love when she makes me proud by impressing other people?  That’s a road I really don’t want to go down!

As a mother I feel I should unconditionally accept my child. In reality, however, in the heat of the moment, I was embarrassed by her poor performance in the water and so I was sad to discover my acceptance was actually based on her performance and it wasn’t so unconditional after all!  I know it was only a minor incident but it did make me resolve to never place my need for approval from others over my child’s need for approval from me.  That means, some time in the future I am going to have to put aside my insecurities and vanities and maybe feel the disapproval or disappointment of others in order to encourage my struggling child.  Am I willing to make that sacrifice?

The incident also made me think about my perception of God.  My reaction in the pool was a bad one, therefore it wasn’t a response that God would have.  It opened my eyes to realise that maybe I feel that God is ashamed of me when I don’t ‘measure up’, but actually I think God has used the experience to reveal to me a little more of His compassion and unconditional love for me, and therefore the unconditional love I need to have for others in spite of their weaknesses too.

This passage comes to mind:

“Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.”

Matthew 7: 9-12.

As a mom I am constantly aware that I model EVERYTHING to my children.  Some days it bites me in the butt, depending on what lovely phrases I hear come out of their mouths.  Other days I feel like I’m doing a great job, especially when I hear my kids say things like, “Jesus painted that beautiful sunset.  Thank you Jesus.”

The part of modeling I am feeling the most challenge in currently is how do I take care of myself.  This has also led to examining what was modeled to me in my lifetime, which may be another entry on another day.  But how do we take care of ourselves???  What does healthy selfish look like?  I am still coming to terms with how those two words can even coexist in the same sentence.

Whether you are a “mother” or not, you are mothering someone.  Someone, somewhere is watching how you live and looking up to you for answers.  So how do you model to others that you are taking care of yourself?  Do you consciously make an effort to take care of yourself physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually?  Do you plan activities, or a lack of activities, into your schedule to be sure you are taken care of, or do you come last on your list every time?

I have caught myself many a time taking the backseat to everyone else.  Then I realized I wasn’t so happy in a few areas of my life.  Yet I chose, yes I CHOSE, to play the role of martyr rather than seek out help for myself.  Finally, once I got sick of that role, I chose to take care of myself.  I planned time with girlfriends.  I scheduled family walks and trips to the zoo.  I talked with a counselor.  I found ways to be creative, since that’s what gives ME life.  And I found ways to help other people, while helping myself.  I love to organize.  So I found a friend who didn’t have time to sort through things for a yard sale (boot sale) and helped out.

I also stopped putting up with things I had put up with before.  My two toddlers no longer got what they wanted when they whined.  Suddenly mommy went deaf, or so they thought, and could only hear BIG words.  I stopped being the person in control of everything, and gave control away, where I didn’t need it.

There are other ways we all take care of ourselves.  I would love to see and hear feedback from others out there as to how you do that.  I know I could use some new ideas and I know God’s given a lot of us different creativity on how to take care of ourselves.  So please leave your comments, long or short.  And please contribute, whether you are a mom or not, female or not.

How do you take care of yourself???  What does healthy selfish look like for you?

Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. Colossians 3:15

I don’t always find my particular personality fits very well with being a wife and mother in this current ‘small child’ phase of my life. I am quite an extreme extrovert – or at least that’s what it feels like when I’m spending most of my days with small people and most (at the moment) of my evenings with a husband at business meetings or working on the computer. I am a strongly relational person, with ‘quality time’ being the way I give and receive love. Quality time in the day is difficult to attain when every adult conversation is interspersed with child directed encouragement, instruction or discipline. In the evening I would love to revert to life before children – popping round to friends’ houses at a moments notice, nipping out for a quick drink or deciding that the cinema would be the best choice for that day. As I write this I am not in my usual Saturday morning coffee shop, but sitting in again as hubby ‘networks’ and the children sleep. Most friends also have children and can’t do the spontaneous thing, so I am left to my own devices. Depending on my choice I can feel miserable or contented, ill at ease or peaceful.

If I focus on all the reasons why I should envy others for their lives in their life stages, I miss out on all sorts of things – the fact that I have a husband; the fact that I have kids; the fact that all too soon they will be grown and gone. I may find it cloying when they run to me and only me when they are upset, but I will miss it so much more when they choose not to. I have had and still have strong friendships – they take second place to my husband and family now as they should, but they are still there. I have so much. My choice – for tonight at least – is to be thankful.

I live in a desert.  It’s very apparent here that water is life.  Rain is infrequent, and I’m always amazed at the tiny weeds and wild flowers that spring to life after the slightest drizzle.  However, anything with any more staying power than a weed must protect itself if it wants to survive in the desert.  I once took a desert survival course where the instructor recommended always carrying a knife and some gloves whenever you go hiking; because if you ever were to get lost and were without water, you could cut a slice of cactus and suck the water out.  This, hopefully, could buy you some time to be rescued-if, of course, you could get past the cactus needles.  This is why desert plants are so guarded-fortressed by needles, prickles and spines. They protect themselves from wildlife that would otherwise suck the life right out of them. Even an innocent passerby gets the message “Stay away! There isn’t enough here for the both of us.  If you try to take what’s mine, you’ll certainly regret it.” 

I can relate.  Lately I’ve been feeling a little prickly. I feel the weight of all my responsibilities, both those that are legitimate and those that I’ve put upon myself without reason, and cry “there just isn’t enough!”  As an introvert whose not been taking adequate time alone, my internal resources feel as scarce as water in the desert, and everyone seems to want a piece of me-husband, kids, home, employer, church, the kids’ schools, family, friends-even the dog needs something from me!  So, out come the prickles. I want to lock myself in my room and scream “Leave me alone!”  Relying on my own resources to make sure everything turns out alright, I start to hoard what I perceive is mine, storing it up to get through the brutal dry season.  I guard my time, my emotions, my energy.  I lash out at my family because I’m afraid that despite how hard I’m working, it may not be enough, and I will be found inadequate. 

 Contrast this with a description of a man (or woman) found in Jeremiah 17:7-8

 But blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream.  It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green.  It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.

This tree has no need for prickles.  Yes, its bark provides some protection from evaporation, bugs and animals (it would be foolish and grossly unhealthy to have no boundaries whatsoever), but since its roots are fed by a continual stream of water, those things are no lethal threat.  It can afford to lose a leaf or two. Heck, it can probably afford to lose a limb or two.  It benefits people with shade and fruit, even in the dry times.  A person such as this can afford to be generous with her time, energy, and money.  She can risk loving others, truly loving them the way Jesus loved, without regard for whether or not she will receive anything in return because she gets what she really needs from the source of life.

What’s the difference between the cactus and the tree?  The verse says trust. When I worry and choose to “just take care of” all the things I’m not trusting God for, I set myself up as a little goddess over my own little world. I substitute business and striving for the time alone with God that He designed me to need. When I inevitably realize that I’m not cut out for this goddess gig, I start to fret, to cultivate fear and resentment, exiling myself to the desert. Far from the streams of living water that could provide me with the very things I crave, I have two choices: grow spines and survive the wilderness; or humble myself to rest and repentance, quietness and trust, and let the water start to flow.

I have been thinking about prayer lately. The prayer of a mother of young children – is this the prayer of faith?

When I am tired and my children are ill and my husband is busy at work and I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in ages, I pray prayers like,’Please, God, make her sleep through the night’, ‘Please God, help me deal with this tantrum’, ‘Please God, tell me what I can make for tea.’Those prayers are basic, simple, often desperate cries for help. It’s times like that when faith comes into action; when I don’t feel spiritual, when I don’t feel God is with me, when I don’t feel anythingmuch at all! That’s when my prayer is based solely on the fact that God is my loving Heavenly Father, only He can make my situation better and I can’t go on without His intervention.

At times like those, when I am at the end of myself, that my faith is stripped back to its foundations. I find myself asking ‘Do I really believe God is interested in what I’m going through?’, ‘Is it worth praying about this?’, and at the end of the day my ultimate question is,’Does God really care?’. I believe He does, though maybe He won’t always get me out of the situation, its a comfort to know I can ask Him to be with me in it. I wonder how many opportunities for God’s intervention I’ve missed in life because I haven’t felt like praying. Since becoming a mother of two, I am getting used to praying without feeling like it, and I thinkGod takes that as faith. In fact, my feeble attempt is all the invitation He needs to step in. When I am ‘on form’ I can pray in the Spirit, prophesy, sing, and get into spiritual warfare, but when I am hanging on by a thread, and all I have to offer is a quick plea for help, then that’s all God needs to get involved.

Like the old lady in the temple, God is happy when we give him what we have, and if all we’ve got is a couple of small coins, then that’s ok:

Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny. Calling hisdisciples to him, Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow hasput more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything-all she had to live on.”  (Mark 12 vs 41-44)

Its not the ‘wealth’ of my prayer that moves mountains – God is the mountain mover, not me. I might be a co-worker with Christ, but He is the one who comes alongside and takes the weight of my burden. I guess I’m learning the balance of being independent enough to trust He’s givenme everything I need to get on with life, but being dependent enough to ask for it!

Last weekend I took my first trip away from my daughters. I went to see my best friend of 26 years. I was so excited to go, and I was way overdue for a break. However, I was so conflicted. The last thing I wanted to do was leave my girls. So the night before I left I was talking with Greg about what he and the girls would do while I was away. He told me he thought about taking the girls to see the ducks…then SHE emerged…MOMZILLA!

“What!?! You are going to take the girls to see the ducks for the first time without me?”

I was on the verge of tears. How dare he want to have a “first” with them by himself. That should be something we do as a family. WHOA! What just happened? When did I turn into a smother mother? Greg doesn’t get a lot of “firsts” with them. Why couldn’t I just be happy and excited?

After processing it I realized, this is just the tip of the iceberg. My daughters are going to experience so much, that I won’t be a part of…and that is okay. It is a completely healthy and beautiful part of growing up. I just did not think it would begin this soon. In the end, they did see the ducks, and Lydia went into the pond after a duck.She doesn’t quite realize that just because Jesus walked on water, doesn’t mean that she can, too. They had a wonderful “first” with daddy and I couldn’t be happier.

So I am with my girls reading Dora books and we get chatting about the future.

“Mommy when I grow up I want to be a basketball player” said Tia, looking all athletic and sporty.

“When I grow up I’m going to be a cowgirl!” said Zoë, looking nothing like a cowgirl, but still being very earnest.

My girls have not worked out yet that they are doing to be doctors or human rights lawyers with political aspirations. But they are young, and I want them to enjoy their ideas before life (i.e. Mama) sets in.

Tia turned to me and said

“Mommy, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

My real answer came way too quickly, way too honestly. And thankfully, totally internally:

When I grow up I want to be thin.

Meanwhile back in real time my girls were waiting for answer. They’d been waiting for 3 seconds now. Hurry up!

“Mama, what do you want to be when YOU grow up?”

“When you grow up.” echoed Zoë for some kind of symbolic emphasis.

I smiled and said

“When I grow up? When I grow up, I’m going to be your mum.”

Sitting in an internet cafe on my own, with the morning sun not yet strong enough to dispel the mist sitting on the distant hills. The sounds of the staff clattering in the kitchen are occasionally strong enough to break through the music which is just perfect for this moment. I am drinking a smooth cup of coffee exactly to my liking and have in front of me a delicious bowl of creamy white yoghurt drizzled with honey and scattered with strawberries, kiwi fruit, blueberries and raspberries. I have just been for a swim and my hair is still damp, my cheeks their slightly embarrassing pink tinge and my whole body aches a little after my characteristically vigourous effort. This is what I have been yearning for for around three weeks. Space.

When the children are awake, it’s different. I don’t know why and consequently can’t really explain to hubby why time on my own or with a friend is qualitatively better when the children are awake. Maybe it’s because I feel awake. Maybe it’s just that they are making demands, but not on me. My mind is not filled with…”Right, laundry on, now breakfast, Iona, porridge or weetabix? with raisins or banana? (repeat ad nauseaum until she decides to stop whatever she has become engrossed in for long enough to reply) Please don’t wrap that around your sister’s neck, she is not a dog. Yes, Eden, it’s coming, the fact that your weetabix is in the microwave means you’ll like it better. Right, breakfast, juice, breadsticks so Eden doesn’t have a small fit at the fact that she’s not constantly doing something. Bite for Eden bite for Eden, Iona could you stop talking and put something in your mouth, oops, nearly forgot me, oh no I didn’t the whole bowl’s been eaten, so much for savouring my food. Ok facecloth, wipe girls, table, Iona take your bowl to the kitchen, I know you dont want to but you’re so good at it and it’s so helpful for mummy, here you go, no get up, you are taking it, here you go. Thank you so much, yes of course you can take mine too.Right now, toilet, coat, oops-teeth-bags, out the door….” and so it goes on. Here in the coffee shop I can stop my brain from planning the next minute,hour,nap, bath, sleep. Someone else is talking to them… 

 …as it happens, someone else was letting Eden eat Play-Doh… oh well – NON TOXIC is emblazoned all over the pots, and we needed some  more anyway.

I was musing on ‘The Shack’ by William P Young. It’s about a guy with a religious background who goes through some horrendous experiences.  The book describes his journey and portrays the idea that Christianity is all about relationship with God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. 

My experience of people today, particularly those with a post-modern outlook, is that they are dubious about old-fashioned religion but eagerly desire meaningful relationships. 

My train of thought then went to the dual aspects of parenting and the Bible!  Put very simply, the Old Testament is more focused on law while the New Testament is more about grace.  It’s a bit like parenting.  You have to have the law as a framework – no lying, stealing, fighting.  Bedtimes are at a certain time.  Hitting your brother is not a good idea.  Chocolate is a treat to be enjoyed when I offer it, not whenever you want it. 

But then over the top of that is a layer of grace where the rules can be bent a little.  “Maybe you can go to bed later for this special occasion/ as it’s the weekend”, or “Just for today I will let you eat more sweet stuff than usual”.  If you only offer law, you produce rigidity, frustration, anger and rebellion.  If you only give grace, you produce spoilt children with little self-discipline or self-control, who have virtually no respect or recognition of boundaries.

I remember when my first child was born.  I was amazed at the intensity of love that I felt for this helpless, needy bundle.  There were lots of unspoken hopes and dreams for this baby, but the thing that I was looking forward to most was spending time coming to know and just being with this person.  This was the beginning of a long (and hopefully close) relationship.  I would imagine that God feels just the same about us. 

How would an objective, external observer view the balance between law and grace in your household at the moment?

As God’s ambassadors on Earth, could we also offer unconditional love and meaningful relationship to those around us who think of God as remote or non-existent?

As a mother, one of my favourite bible verses is probably “Children, obey your parents” (Eph 6:1a)!  Doesn’t it feel amazing on those rare occasions when your children do exactly what you say, straight away, without complaining?!

I was reading something the other day and the phrase “Do not provoke your children to anger /do not exasperate your children” (Eph 6:4) caught my eye.  I wondered how many times I had caused my kids to get angry with me.  Of course, there are times when they need to be told off and their childish response is to get annoyed, frustrated or worse!  At the end of the day they need to submit to their parents.  However, this passage from Ephesians is all about mutual submission.  Therefore, maybe we need to say yes to some of their suggestions and take the lead from them!  How easy it is to always say no!  Is the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’ aimed particularly at parents?!

Sometimes I need to stop and think.  Why does my child get angry?  Is it because of a childish response to needed discipline, or is there something I could change so they react differently?

As an adult I have more power.  But of course, being a parent is not all about being on a power trip!  It is important to model to our kids how to use power wisely – a good boss/ leader/ parent will give others a say, let others periodically take the lead, delegate and empower others with choices and responsibilities etc.  A phrase we use a lot is ‘low control, high accountability’.  That will bring life, freedom and excitement to those whom we have leadership over.  At the end of the day, the buck does stop with me, the parent, but that is not a mandate to be highly controlling in how I lead my children.

As parents, the challenge is always to try to get the balance between loving discipline and being control freaks.  Rather than being resentful and having lots of bottled up angst, I want my kids to have a positive outlook on life and to know that there are all sorts of possibilities out there for them.  Of course I do believe parents have a clear responsibility to discipline their children when needed – should they cross a definite boundary then they need to know that there will be consequences!  However, let’s also make sure we are training our children to be able to think for themselves and learn how to make wise choices now, even if that means we have to watch them make decisions we don’t agree with.  Then we’ll need to help them work through any consequences.  Let’s pray that they make more wise choices than bad ones!

Think:  where do you say no to your child where maybe you should say yes?  Or where do you say yes when you should say no?

Are there areas where you could empower your child more or where you could encourage them to take the lead?

My attitude to housework is changeable to say the least. This week I have had a bit of an amazing housewife week! It makes a huge difference to all our lives when I’ve taken myself in hand and applied myself to getting on top of everything. It was little daily steps that got me to a place where I could see the end in sight. But also I had a day without little people. Thursday was a day all to myself!! What would I do with it? Well I had been so determined to have a rest and a day doing what I wanted, that I had spent the evening before tidying madly. I got up and got the girls ready, waved them off at the door, closed it to silence! An empty house! Tidy enough that I didn’t have to do anything.

Well, I thought I could stay in my bed reading all day. I was bored of that by 855. Stay in my pjs til midday! I was dressed by 9. I could have gone shopping for a bit, but a friend was coming round to veg and watch back to back recorded TV shows, and I didn’t know when. So I tidied and restored order and loveliness to my bedroom. It is now sparkling. Hubby loves it, I love it. My little girl is impressed with my tidying and I have since gone on to tidy her room and make it beautiful. I now need to maintain it, which I am currently very motivated to do.

My revelation about Thursday – I like my job, my house-wife one. I’ve been getting quite despondent about the day to day, dragging myself from chore to boring chore. I was challenged by my attitude and the fact that self-control is a fruit of the Holy Spirit; I was refusing to let it blossom by telling myself I was tired, couldn’t be bothered, hated housework.

I told myself off, did what I couldn’t be bothered to do and feel on top of the world now. God is a God of order not chaos. I am deep in self pity when I berate the state of my house and claim I can’t do anything about it. Self pity leads to nothing positive. ‘Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.’ Romans 12:2.

Now I need to try and remember that when it all goes belly up again…

This too shall pass is a definite favourite saying of mine these days.
This too shall pass. The sleepless nights, the projectile vomit and poop, the food stained, snot stained clothing. The games of TAG. The inconsolable sobs and tantrums of a two year old who has been denied. The screech of an 8 month old who is simple unimpressed. This too shall pass.
The frustration when another meal is refused, or swept of the high chair table. Bedtimes where they just won’t stay in bed.
This too shall pass, the tired bits, the boring bits, the lonely bits, the sad bits, the bits where I have no energy, the soggy body bits (though not passing quite as quickly as I was hoping… maybe caring about that shall pass), the bits where I have no time with my hubby, no time to myself. That strange contradictory sense of loss and gain. All that will pass.

One of my goddaughters, Daisy has just started school. My oldest goddaughter Beccy gets married in December. I can remember the day I first held Daisy; I remember where I was standing when Beccy asked me to be her godmother.

This too shall pass. The birth of my daughters. The first time I was alone with Tia and knew we’d be OK; the first time I saw Zoe’s heartbeat and saw she was there and alive in stark defiant contradiction to the comments of the ultrasound technician.This too shall pass. The way Tia calls out for me first thing in the morning. The way we sing in the car together. The way she squeals at me when I pick her up from her group. This too shall pass. The way Zoe reaches out her arms to me in the morning. The way she wrinkles her nose at me. The way she sleeps with my dressing gown because she prefers it to her blankie. The way Tia is… the way Zoe is…the way they …are with me.

This too shall pass, when Mommy and Daddy are the centre of the universe, the primary influence, the ones to heal their little hearts, wipe their tears, still their storms, build their confidence, be their joy. When we get to have them all to ourselves. This, too, shall pass.

Jo…
Jo…..
JO?

Yes someone is talking but I am choosing not to respond. Tia has taken to calling me Jo.
Where is the love, people? Mummy only entered Tia’s vocabulary from when she was about 17 months, way after Daddy, No, Yes, Doggie, Miaow, and possibly Monkey. And already, we’ve moved on to Jo???
Why don’t you just rip out my heart and put it on the barbecue. I think the pain would be less….

Melodrama and hyperbole aside, it really jars with me. Obviously, Tia is picking up what we say around the house, and trying out new words . But only two people in the world get to call me Mom, Mummy, Mother, etc and I’d like it to happen

It also triggered something of a moment shall we say in me in the whole mothering thing. That I am not Jo, the friend, the one they hang out with, their peer. I am their mom. They’ve got plenty of friends out there. But me, I have a unique role. And yes they have PHENOMENAL god parents, and a global extended family. But there’s only one MOM. And that is me.
So it got me all fired up, thinking of this privilege, this high calling and incredible responsibility, to nurture these beautiful girls. And it got me all focused and passionate. And bless my children, since they were the only ones around to listen, they have been subjected to all kinds of monologues, and speeches these past few days.

I am becoming that woman who says – BECAUSE I SAID SO. And I love it, because its my job to say so.
My particular phrase is “I’m the Mom”

So Zoe, doesn’t want to sleep. She’s wriggling and kicking and wrestling. And I grab her in my arms and say
“Now Zoe, I love you. I fought for you, I longed for you and wept for you. And now I have you, and God gave you to me, and he wants me to raise you, and that is what I am going to do. Right now my job is to teach you how to sleep. And I know you don’t want me to do that, but I’m the Mom here, and right now teaching you to sleep is my calling. It’s the best thing I can do for you today to equip you for life”

Zoe blinked a few times at me, with those stunning eyes. Then she whined and cried. Poor kid. She knew that once her mother said she was on a mandate from God, she didn’t stand a chance.

Tia is having a tantrum about something. Kicking, screaming, proclaiming the fire and terror of the twos. And she doesn’t want to sleep.

“Now Tia. I love you and I love your fire and your passion and all your boundless energy. Its how God made you and its amazing. But that does not mean you can always have your own way. I’m the mom here (there it is again) and its my job to raise you right, even if that means you get angry at me. ”

Tia just looks at me. She’s a fast thinker and weighing up the situation realises that Mom is on a mission and will not be beaten. But wondering if Mom can be distracted, she smiles and says
“Barney?”

So the girls had to put up with speeches for about 48 hours, then I decided to give them a break. I was hoping that I was speaking to their spirits, instilling some profound bond that will lay foundations in their lives. But I knew I was speaking to my own spirit, reminding me of the value, and significance in my ultimate life’s work, and encouraging me to own it and enjoy it daily.

I’m the Mom.

There are good days. On a good day – the girls nap at the same time for a couple of hours and wake up cute and smiling. Zoe is giggling in her crib, and Tia is singing “Hello”. We descend to the family room, smiling at each other and laughing.

The family room is a playground of stimulating, age appropriate activities. Play doh, stickers, finger painting. Tia counts from 1 – 9 all by herself. Zoe sits and plays with toys. We are listening to Wiggles tunes in the background. Every so often Tia and I stop what we are doing and perform for Zoe who giggles some more. They have healthy nutritious snacks. Dinner is in the oven, perfectly timed. Chris and I chat a little on the phone and the world is wonderful. Its an uber woman day.Chris returns home from work to find the women in his life smiling and glowing.

I am total momma – hear me roar.

Dinner is family fun, and vegetables are eaten. Tia joins in family prayers, Zoe giggles and everyone stays at the table until the last delicious morsel is eaten.The girls go to sleep on time and do not stir. We talk and tidy up the family room thankful for our lives. We rest, we laugh. We read, we enjoy.

Then the bad days
These are the days when my expectations are high and my patience is low. These are TAG days, of whining, sickness, poo, screaming.These are the ugly dark days of mopping up projectile offerings.These are the days when I think it rational to reason like an adult with a 23 month old.These are the days when Tia is eating spaghetti and meatballs – again.

One these kinds of days toddler works of art are on the walls (that I have just cleaned) instead of the paper.Days when Tia seems to be in the naughty corner so much, she might as well camp there!Dinner is not in the oven, its in the future, if we all make it there.The snacks are not the healthiest on earth, but they do produce that beautiful thing called silence. For awhile. And then there is the television. God Bless the television.

( I love you TV.Though I do sometimes guiltily wonder if Tia will develop not an English or US accent, but an Australian one what with the level of Wiggle input she has in her life.)

On these days Zoe refuses to nap, eat or drink.Tia is not satisfied with anything, even if its something she has asked for. The word MINE punctuates every sentence.
Chris comes home to find the women in his life glowering.

I am stressed out momma – hear me scream.

Then there are the moments.When the girls aren’t watching. Zoe is sitting playing and I am in awe of this child who is changing everyday. Tia is in her playgroup doing crafts being all grown up and reminding me that this stage isn’t always about “the terrible twos”. Its a snapshot of awe and wonder.Chris comes home to a holy moment.
We sit down after the girls are in bed, relaxed, grateful. The dishes can wait. The list of jobs can wait. Right now,there’s a moment to be had. A moment where its not all about how we are doing as parents, how the kids are doing.Just a moment to take in the complex, yet simple, frustrating, yet wonderful, extraordinary, yet ordinary life we have.

I’m an everyday working mum. Hear me say – its going to be OK.