I could feel the rivets of sweat running between my shoulder blades in the bitterly cold morning air as I threw my purse in the front seat and a pair of muddy cowboy boots in the back floor of the van that was being prepped for take-off. Just ten minutes before I had bid a breathless farewell to two kindergartners, sending them down the street to their crossing guard with snacks they didn’t like and mismatched gloves that were too small. I don’t recall now where exactly the rest of us were going, but wherever it was, we had to be there by nine and it was my desire to resemble functioning members of society upon our arrival. I had already wrestled one ornery three year old twin into his car seat straps (hence the sweat) and was about to go fetch the other who was hiding under the cushions on the couch with the socks I had barked at him to put on laying untouched on the floor. As always, I had saved the most “spirited” child, my four year old for last.
The two boys were loudly proclaiming their displeasure of being contained, their bare feet and arms flailing wildly. As I went to call the third member of our crew for a final boarding call, out she came in her third outfit change of the morning and this time it was her swimsuit-- from two years ago. I got a phantom wedgie just looking at her severely ensconced nether regions. It added to the growing discomfort and escalating blood pressure from getting three young children who barely come to my waist out the door for a simple excursion. With a string of words coursing through my head that would make a sailor blush, I made my 20th trip of the morning up the stairs to the bedroom where I found all the contents of the girl’s dresser drawers strewn over the beds and floors. I picked through for a Hello Kitty ensemble as an acceptable swimwear alternative and ran back down only to find that the beach babe had found a full bag of Goldfish and distributed the contents to the angry boys who were using them as ammo in their continued rebellious demonstration.
It was as my feet were crunching over the discarded fish shells to reach the swim suit clad child, as the rivets of sweat had grown into a rushing gorge and as the tone of my voiced morphed into the ugly pitch used by that harried mom-losing-it-on-her-child-in-aisle-five I had given my best judgmental hairy eyeball to recently…it was in the middle of it all that a decision was made. I decided to drop the ball called "Preschool" for my darling middle child that I been tossing around the idea of for the past few weeks. Come September, I concluded it would be best to hold onto my sanity in the mornings for the sake of my children so they can remember a less harried, more happy mother. Even with the carpooling that was offered, it was all still more "fuss" than I feeling willing to add to the flurry of early mornings and afternoons. Clearly, getting the van out of park without losing my mind was a challenge.
Most of my good friends can handle preschool or Little League or whatever else they carefully choose for their families. They don't brag about all they do, they simply do what works for them and I admire them for it. I am also learning to refrain from thinking less of myself for not being able to keep a full schedule, or to assume my children are at a disadvantage because of it. I simply cannot juggle too many things at once without turning into something that children would want to run from, not to. In my scenario, with having five children in such a quick span of time, I had no opportunity to even attempt balancing anything but survival in those early days. While they are a little older and out of diapers now, my desire to start moving the clan outward and onward lays relatively dormant. I've heard (from multiple sources) they grow up fast, so while they're home and still like being home, call me crazy but there's really no place else I would rather spend my weeknights than right here (ok, MAYBE with the exception of a Tahitian thatched hut on the water with my husband).
Sometimes, I try to add something new to my simple pattern of living. Those are usually the weeks where the sun is shining brightly, the planets have aligned and I drink untold amounts of highly caffeinated coffee. Take half-day kindergarten play dates for example. When you go to morning kindergarten as two of mine do, it is a daily occurrence to have them hop in the van and immediately begin begging me to have a friend from school come home with us because, as you know, EVERYONE else does it. So, for a few weeks, I allowed one or two to come over once in a while. The friends of our children are magnificent, but bringing a new face into our domestic mix creates quite the stir, for the little siblings want in on the cool friend from school action and the older ones implore me to abolish them to our dirt basement until the friend leaves. This scenario grew increasingly more stressful to where I wanted to abolish myself to the basement until 2019 (with a hefty vat of moonshine to boot). I kept making myself have these play dates because I love my children's adorable friends, but I finally had to drop the play date ball and let it go for a little...at least until the weather gets warm enough for outside play and my nervous tick starts to subside.
There are those unexpected "balls" that we are thrown that we never asked for, can't toss back or drop down and we pray to God that He'll give us the stamina to keep going. There are those times that we clearly sense what God is asking us to do, and we know it will require a whole new level of concentration and leaning in on Him (and others!) for support, but we do it anyway because we know it is to be part of our story. There are far more of those little balls of "busy stuff" we voluntarily cram into our schedules that we keep juggling even when we start to see negative effects on ourselves and our families. Contrary to the standard way of doing things, we CAN gently drop them at will. No coach, sense of team spirit, pastor, community group or guilt squad should ever hold power over what God is nudging us to give up for the good of clearing up our time so we can refocus or be still enough to hear what HE wants of our time.
There are times we need to allow ourselves to slow down, even with the most seemingly worthwhile efforts. Yesterday I was on the phone with an amazing lady who heads up the children's ministry at our church. In the course of conversation, she asked me how I had time for my community even in the midst of my busy life at home. I cringed as she said it, because in the past few months I have receded from being as engaged as I was at one point (although loosely even then) with a great organization in our school district. I told her that while her assumptions were kind, and even as I would love to do more for the hurting who live in my zip code, lately the best efforts I have been able give my community is work at raising respectful, brave and loving future citizens. That's it. No Meals on Wheels, helping serve meals at retirement villages or volunteering at the food bank. It's all I can do to make it to bedtime most days. I cannot wait to do more, but at this moment my energies are in high demand in the homestead and need to be reserved for community development in my own house. That ball called "service" not be in as consistent use as I would prefer during this season, but on those occasions where God leads and prompts me to pick it up and bring it back into the rotation, even if just for a little, I will and gladly.
I wish I would be less preoccupied with how much can be juggled, but more aware of what I allow to fill up and have power in my daily life. Its a mindset I am working towards.
You might not be a parent, but the plate of your life is as full as mine, just in a different way. I'm sure you can feel that "well-she-doesn't-have-children-so-she-should-have-plenty-of-time" guilt that is put upon you (perceived or real) to accept more responsibilities. You might have one child whose needs and energy is equivalent of three. It simply doesn't matter what the landscape of your life looks like. What anyone accepts into the rotation of daily living is a personal decision between themselves and God. While we can expect there will be those times God allows a whole lot more than you think manageable, He also has your back when you need to drop a few balls--even the ones that seem so wholesome and selfless--out of your rotation and hunker down to focus on sorting through what (or who) is most important...even if it means your van never leaves the driveway.
The two boys were loudly proclaiming their displeasure of being contained, their bare feet and arms flailing wildly. As I went to call the third member of our crew for a final boarding call, out she came in her third outfit change of the morning and this time it was her swimsuit-- from two years ago. I got a phantom wedgie just looking at her severely ensconced nether regions. It added to the growing discomfort and escalating blood pressure from getting three young children who barely come to my waist out the door for a simple excursion. With a string of words coursing through my head that would make a sailor blush, I made my 20th trip of the morning up the stairs to the bedroom where I found all the contents of the girl’s dresser drawers strewn over the beds and floors. I picked through for a Hello Kitty ensemble as an acceptable swimwear alternative and ran back down only to find that the beach babe had found a full bag of Goldfish and distributed the contents to the angry boys who were using them as ammo in their continued rebellious demonstration.
It was as my feet were crunching over the discarded fish shells to reach the swim suit clad child, as the rivets of sweat had grown into a rushing gorge and as the tone of my voiced morphed into the ugly pitch used by that harried mom-losing-it-on-her-child-in-aisle-five I had given my best judgmental hairy eyeball to recently…it was in the middle of it all that a decision was made. I decided to drop the ball called "Preschool" for my darling middle child that I been tossing around the idea of for the past few weeks. Come September, I concluded it would be best to hold onto my sanity in the mornings for the sake of my children so they can remember a less harried, more happy mother. Even with the carpooling that was offered, it was all still more "fuss" than I feeling willing to add to the flurry of early mornings and afternoons. Clearly, getting the van out of park without losing my mind was a challenge.
Most of my good friends can handle preschool or Little League or whatever else they carefully choose for their families. They don't brag about all they do, they simply do what works for them and I admire them for it. I am also learning to refrain from thinking less of myself for not being able to keep a full schedule, or to assume my children are at a disadvantage because of it. I simply cannot juggle too many things at once without turning into something that children would want to run from, not to. In my scenario, with having five children in such a quick span of time, I had no opportunity to even attempt balancing anything but survival in those early days. While they are a little older and out of diapers now, my desire to start moving the clan outward and onward lays relatively dormant. I've heard (from multiple sources) they grow up fast, so while they're home and still like being home, call me crazy but there's really no place else I would rather spend my weeknights than right here (ok, MAYBE with the exception of a Tahitian thatched hut on the water with my husband).
Sometimes, I try to add something new to my simple pattern of living. Those are usually the weeks where the sun is shining brightly, the planets have aligned and I drink untold amounts of highly caffeinated coffee. Take half-day kindergarten play dates for example. When you go to morning kindergarten as two of mine do, it is a daily occurrence to have them hop in the van and immediately begin begging me to have a friend from school come home with us because, as you know, EVERYONE else does it. So, for a few weeks, I allowed one or two to come over once in a while. The friends of our children are magnificent, but bringing a new face into our domestic mix creates quite the stir, for the little siblings want in on the cool friend from school action and the older ones implore me to abolish them to our dirt basement until the friend leaves. This scenario grew increasingly more stressful to where I wanted to abolish myself to the basement until 2019 (with a hefty vat of moonshine to boot). I kept making myself have these play dates because I love my children's adorable friends, but I finally had to drop the play date ball and let it go for a little...at least until the weather gets warm enough for outside play and my nervous tick starts to subside.
There are those unexpected "balls" that we are thrown that we never asked for, can't toss back or drop down and we pray to God that He'll give us the stamina to keep going. There are those times that we clearly sense what God is asking us to do, and we know it will require a whole new level of concentration and leaning in on Him (and others!) for support, but we do it anyway because we know it is to be part of our story. There are far more of those little balls of "busy stuff" we voluntarily cram into our schedules that we keep juggling even when we start to see negative effects on ourselves and our families. Contrary to the standard way of doing things, we CAN gently drop them at will. No coach, sense of team spirit, pastor, community group or guilt squad should ever hold power over what God is nudging us to give up for the good of clearing up our time so we can refocus or be still enough to hear what HE wants of our time.
There are times we need to allow ourselves to slow down, even with the most seemingly worthwhile efforts. Yesterday I was on the phone with an amazing lady who heads up the children's ministry at our church. In the course of conversation, she asked me how I had time for my community even in the midst of my busy life at home. I cringed as she said it, because in the past few months I have receded from being as engaged as I was at one point (although loosely even then) with a great organization in our school district. I told her that while her assumptions were kind, and even as I would love to do more for the hurting who live in my zip code, lately the best efforts I have been able give my community is work at raising respectful, brave and loving future citizens. That's it. No Meals on Wheels, helping serve meals at retirement villages or volunteering at the food bank. It's all I can do to make it to bedtime most days. I cannot wait to do more, but at this moment my energies are in high demand in the homestead and need to be reserved for community development in my own house. That ball called "service" not be in as consistent use as I would prefer during this season, but on those occasions where God leads and prompts me to pick it up and bring it back into the rotation, even if just for a little, I will and gladly.
I wish I would be less preoccupied with how much can be juggled, but more aware of what I allow to fill up and have power in my daily life. Its a mindset I am working towards.
You might not be a parent, but the plate of your life is as full as mine, just in a different way. I'm sure you can feel that "well-she-doesn't-have-children-so-she-should-have-plenty-of-time" guilt that is put upon you (perceived or real) to accept more responsibilities. You might have one child whose needs and energy is equivalent of three. It simply doesn't matter what the landscape of your life looks like. What anyone accepts into the rotation of daily living is a personal decision between themselves and God. While we can expect there will be those times God allows a whole lot more than you think manageable, He also has your back when you need to drop a few balls--even the ones that seem so wholesome and selfless--out of your rotation and hunker down to focus on sorting through what (or who) is most important...even if it means your van never leaves the driveway.
