the [sometimes] beautiful chaos of parenting, mom shaming, and village be-ing.

I'm baaaaaack.  Now for an overly verbose update on the last 7 months of life.  J to the K, nope, we're just jumping in.  Oh and by the way, if you didn't know already, we're preggers again.  Baby #3, a little girl, set to join us in 9ish weeks.  One of many reasons for my long hiatus. But I digress...

Yesterday, I was at the [fully fenced in] playground with S (3.5) and E (2) and my fully-loaded seven and a half month pregnant body [that looks closer to nine months].  And, as usual, the boys had tons of energy, which they were delighted to exercise by running, climbing, and jumping on everything.  I was sitting on the ground in the shade because *7.5 months pregnant* *hot* and *ninety degrees* - plus I am a little free range-y, and while I watch diligently and look after their safety, I also trust my kids to be able to play somewhat independently, without me two feet away, and think that's healthy for them. [and stand by that].

Lo and behold, both boys run in different directions and E makes a beeline for the gate, totally making a break for it [out into the still-fenced-in park path outside the actual playground], so I get up and waddle/run after him.  Turns out he's faster than I thought these days, and I'm, well, waddling, so it took me almost half a block to grab him [at which point he turns around and says to me in his sassy and tart way, "what?" like "Why are you upset, mom? Isn't this fun?"]  So I'm mildly freaked out, slightly peeved, but it took all of three minutes and S was safely in the farthest most fenced in part of the playground where he would have had to pass me to get out the gate, so we're okay.

I'm not the only one this has happened to, right?

I'm carrying him back as fast as I can waddle, trying to discipline him well and you know, stay upright, when I am met by another mom at the gate, who I don't know, carrying a crying S, who then berates me for not watching him, telling me that he has been wandering around crying and looking for me for over ten minutes [not true, I double checked later with another parent there].  As she berates, I am now holding over 65 pounds of boys on top of my pregnant belly - and I just snapped.  I was ugly and rude to her, told her exactly what I thought of her "helpfulness" and exaggerated story.  And then walked away.

Later, I heard her talking to her friend about me, and wondering out-loud, "How is she ever going to handle having another if she is already so negligent?"

I came home and sobbed, texting a wise friend, "It's true, how am I ever going to handle three when my two can already out-smart me and out-run me?"  - because that's how mom shaming works - it verbalizes what we're already afraid is true, or what we're already worried that others are thinking.  [At this point, my three year old helpfully asked, "Mommy, why is your face leaking out of your nose?" and then slid his Sunday School paper over to me, that said "God is my helper."  His empathy is complex.]

But now a day later, and a little bit calmer [thanks hubby and wise friend] - here's what I want to say:

"They" say that raising kids is a beautiful chaos - and it is that - both fully beautiful, and fully chaotic.  Sometimes a healthy combo of both.  And some days, it's just pure chaos.  And you can do everything right and your kids still out-smart you and out-run you and overwhelm you.  Or sometimes you mess up.  And so you chase them down, try to discipline well, reassess, ask for help where you need it, shorten the leash appropriately, and wake up for another day.  Possibly squeeze in a glass [or two] of wine [#thingsimisswhenpregnant] and some Netflix binging in there somewhere.  Because parenting doesn't demand perfection - it demands faithfulness, and willingness to press in, even when you want to run and hide.  Shame does not good parenting make; repentance and growth sure as heck do a better job.

"They" say that raising children takes a village - and it's true.  But village, we have to be for one another.  Not shaming one another, not shutting each other down or out because of our own shame.  To that mom on the playground - I owe you an apology.  I was not your village yesterday. I was so embarrassed and ashamed of our chaos, and my error, that I lashed out at you - and didn't see the good parts of what you were trying to do.  And I'm sorry.  Thank you for trying to make sure my child was okay.  But in all respect, your berating of me, and then discussion of me with your friend [and believe me, if I'm honest, I've done that too], served only to shame me and not to make me a better parent.  You are not my village, if those are your ways.

A true village speaks prescriptively of who you can be and will be, not descriptively of who you are in the chaos of the moment.  It endeavors to bless with hope, encourage with truth, and build up not tear down.  It shares tools, not judgment.  And it holds you up, rather buries you in what you already know, when you are at your lowest point.

#shithappens .  Especially when parenting young children.  Let's be honest and allow that some days are just purely chaos - not beautiful in the slightest - even as we look for the beauty in the every day moments, and seek to improve our parenting through faithfulness and repentance.

And let's be a village, and surround ourselves with a village, that speaks life and not shame into that chaos, beautiful or not.

You're doing a good job, Mama.  Hang in there.  We're hanging there right next to you.

xo,
KD