I dare you to live the mess

I don’t know how I am. Or “how was my day.”

And when he came home and asked, it went like this:

“How was your morning?”

Long silence. “We’re making it.”

“Who’s being bad? Is it the younger two?”

“It’s not as simple as that. Just… forget it.”  

He’s busy anyways, much too busy for all that’s in my head.  Or he's not, but I am.  Before I can figure it out, someone needs something again, so yes, just forget it.

I woke up ready to fill love-tanks.  Call it mommy-guilt or inspiration- perhaps both- whatever it was, after reading the Five Love Languages of Children, I started the day ready to apply what I’d read.  

Children, get your morning jobs done quickly, because today we’re going to have some “Mommy Time!” (cheers, applause)

20 minutes, and you get to choose the activity.  The little ones go first. Let the fun begin.

I was richly rewarded, with appreciation, and those most precious glimpses inside their little hearts.  

Eldon is GETTING IT with the puzzle game, and I never would have guessed that he’d get it! And Peter loves to craft-- how funny for this boy, the youngest of our boys. He is “NOT a girly girl. I’m a boy-y boy.”   but I got to see his artistic side!  And Marcus with his jokes- he’s so witty, and I love how he loves to make me laugh.

“Do you know that your mama loves you?” I said to each one. And each one rolled his eyes and said “Yes Mom, you always tell me that.”

And yet despite these bright spots, the whole morning also feels like a complete failure. Because I had to lean on the older three to help with the little ones who weren’t having their mommy time. And the little ones kept interrupting, and it was so, SO frustrating.  And my frustration made them seem even needier, and I wonder, did I just dump out their love-tanks after trying to fill them?

They come to me with complaints, tattles, legitimate problems.  Many children means many conflicts.  Teaching opportunities. But which lesson?  I listen, encourage sharing, give consequences for hitting, discuss anger management, turn-taking, and line-waiting, nose-picking, animal-pestering, shoe-throwing, book-ripping... until I run out of words, and I send them away to “work it out.”  As if they can solve conflicts when mama can’t.

And my body is or isn’t reacting well to the food I’m eating, or not eating,  but who has time to pay attention and research?  And when can I fit in that workout?

And I’m in tears before naptime.

I just need… a break, which they don’t give to me. And some of them understand, and they know that if they wait for me I will be happy and patient again, eventually.  But one, he seems to take it personally.  “Can I help you mama?” he says, but helping kids “help” me is not something I can handle right now, so I say, “Not the kind of help you can give me dear. I just need….”  and I pause, because I really, truly do not know what I need. And he whispers, “for me to go away.”  And my heart breaks, and I hug him, and I give myself a time out in the bathtub.  

8 hours until bedtime. How will we make it?

Suddenly, a crisis: “Mama, the cover to the sandbox is in the ROAD!” I dress quickly, and go out in the wind and snow to fetch it, and the sunshine hits me like a smack to the face.  And I say something ridiculous: “Kids, it’s too nice out to nap. Let’s build some snowmen.”  I don’t know how to teach you to resolve conflicts or manage your anger, but this, I can do.

They probably think I’ve lost it, and perhaps I have, or I will, but the snowmen turn out pretty sweet, and for a moment, that’s all that matters.

and I echo this author

I'm just saying -- it's a hell of a hard thing to explain -- an entire day with lots of babies.

It's a hard thing to explain, this bouncing from one mess to another, from good to horrible to both at once.

Perhaps I'm not called to make sense of it,
or to tame it,
but simply to live.

Live the mess.

So, tell me, fellow mamas... how was your day?

-----------------------

This is the fourth post in this month's series: 

Grow Backward with Me

Will you (re)learn how to be a child with me?

I double-dog dare you.

The entire article is worth a read: 

The Questions that will save your relationships

See also:

Mommy time

the queue

Mommy time: the queue

I am developing a strategy for mommy-time.

I have had to set a few ground rules, mostly for myself.

Mommy time rule #1- Keep it simple.

First of all, I need to be able to remember whose turn it is.  There are a million ways to do this, but for me, it has to be simple.  

Here is our simple queue:

Now, when I have 15 minutes to spare, I can invest it in mommy time with the child next in line.



These sweet children are waiting in line on the wall in our dining room.  Now, every time we eat a meal, they have the joy of reminding us whose turn is next for mommy/daddy time.

I might regret providing this opportunity for nagging.  Yet, I think I need to be pestered about this.

mommy time

It is not reasonable, nor is it healthy, for one child to have all of mom's undivided attention, ALL of the time.

But it is reasonable, and healthy, to make sure each child gets mom's undivided attention, some of the time.

Don't get me wrong, I love my large family.  I see every day how the brothers and sisters are good for each other.  They give each other thousands of opportunities for social interaction, teach each other life lessons early and often, and in many ways, help round out some of the rough edges of each personality.  (Sometimes a gentle rounding-off, sometimes more of a chopping-off, but you get the general idea.)

We all are good for each other.  I love when we are all together, and our love and energy naturally pours out into chaotic talking, teasing, laughing, and playing.

But listening?
Around here, it is not so natural.

It is hard for me, not only for the children.
It is hard for me to patiently hear a child recount the story read at school, reenact the fall off the monkey bars, or give me an update on everybody's runny noses...especially when all of these stories are entering my ears at once.

I want to be a mother who listens. I want my children, each child, to have some time they can count on when I am really "all ears."  After all, if they can barely manage to get my attention with a big loud story about dodge ball, how will they ever get me to hear the more quiet struggles in their little hearts?

There are logistical hurdles to work out, but I am going to try to come up with some ideas.

I'll let you know how it goes.


Father, I am so used to using my hands to serve these children.  
Teach me make them stop moving sometime, that I may also love them with my ears.
Amen.