Peter Pan - it's time to grow up AND fly

This weekend - with some unexpected time at home on a semi-quarantined lockdown with our littlest - Jon and I, as you might expect, spent much quality time catching up on valuable reading of any and all blogposts and articles posted to facebook - as well as copious amounts of status updates, etc.  Because our lives are just that exciting.  And I'm doing really, really, well at that part of my Lenten discipline.

At any rate, somewhere along the way, one of us stumbled upon this little treasure - 7 Grown-Up Things That You Should Have in Your Home by Age 30 - featuring sage suggestions such as making sure to invest in a good bed because "if you're rockin a futon past 30, you should mosey into a bed store, stat."  Or, wiser still, that we should invest in proper tools and cleaning supplies, because "You're a responsible adult so you should be able to be responsible for your space, too."

Reality is - despite my snarky tone - I agreed with the author.  I think all 7 of those items are great to think about - and if we have the means to do so, should be "grown-up" steps that we take by the time we're 30.  Or not.  Whatever your preference and ability - if you want to sleep on a futon at 50, or don't own a plunger by 43, that's your prerogative and quite frankly, low on my list of concerns.  Personally, our plunger died a slow painful death a la toddler a few months ago, and so we're just hoping that the toilet lock continues to work, and the pipes continue to flow.

But here's where I'm struggling -

When did 30 become the age that we define as "grown-up"?

What happened to our twenties?  What happened to maturity as we left home, and moved out to college, even?  Or at very least, finished school and moved out on our own.  Or, as is the case for many of us, finished one school and moved on to the next school.  Are we not also "grown-up" then?

When did we move from looking forward to growing up, and being "grown-up," - to adopting a Peter Pan-like mindset, that we could and should avoid it at all costs?  So much so, that there are hundreds of articles detailing what "grown-up" things we should check ourselves against by the time we hit 30, to make sure that we're transitioning well and not clinging to our youthful irresponsibility recklessly.

And in that same vein, when did being "a grown-up" become synonymous with losing all sense of adventure or fun?  When did "grown-up" become translated as "furniture" and "cleaning supplies" and "house plants."  Of putting down roots that render your wanderlust extinct and taking on responsibilities that cripple our abilities to "have fun" - so much so that we must put it off at all costs until we have "lived life to the full" and "had all the adventures that we want to before settling down."

Maybe it's my old foggy 30 year old self speaking - or my old soul - or even my sleepless mommy-brain bogged down with all of my responsibilities - but something just feels off about all of that.

You see, back in my day... ;)

No, no, no.  I refuse to play that card, stand on that soapbox or preach that sermon.  No.

I just don't think it's either or.

I am a grown-up.  I have been for quite a while - since I moved out of my parents home and went to college - taking responsibility for my own actions, making my own life decisions, and paying my own bills.  It happened before I got married, although I did that in my twenties too.  It happened before I had kids, although I now have two of them.   And it even happened before I got my first grown-up mattress, or first vacuum cleaner of my own.  Because growing up for me simply meant taking responsibility for myself - and living a life that I was proud to live - and not expecting anyone else to bail me out when I got myself into sticky situations.  Not spending money I didn't have, not making excuses when I made poor decisions, and not ignoring the rippling effects that my freedoms had on others.  And yes, investing in things that mattered for the future - furniture and cleaning supplies among them.

But taking responsibility for myself has also meant knowing who I am - knowing that I love adventure and travel - that my soul comes alive when I do work that is meaningful to me - that I am bored to tears by small talk - and that I love writing and cooking and creating new things.  So I married a man who is not afraid of long bus rides, who was willing to live in a strange city and visit strange places - who takes trains with me because I like them and have dreams of riding them through the snow.  I took my first job in Europe after graduation, and my second with a ministry that I felt did meaningful work, even though it required fundraising and kept me lower than my "earning potential" might have been otherwise.  Even with two kids, we still climb mountains and check out breweries, blow off dinner for donuts, and if I have any say in it, might move to Europe for a few years to satiate some of my wanderlust and give the kids some cross-cultural experiences.  Pending persuasion of my husband who has slightly less wanderlust than I do.  Even though we are often grounded by naptimes and bedtimes in this season of life - our adventures are not over and done - they just look different because they have to take into account our little people too.

Look, Peter Pan - I think it's time to grow up AND fly.  And it doesn't have to wait until you're 30.

I think we as a society and a culture miss out on a lot of the fullness of life by "putting off" or "pushing back" growing up.  I think we have deceived ourselves, believing that responsibility and intentionality lead to a life that is not full, fun, or free - when the reality is, owning ourselves actually sets us free, and helps us find a life which is full of the things that actually uniquely give us life.  And I struggle to believe that the ardent run away from responsibility is actually freedom either - it feels more like just following the crowd, actually, until one day, we wake up and take stock of ourselves and where we want to go.  I think the reality is, we need to "grow-up" before we hit 30 - and take responsibility for ourselves and our lives.  Clean our rooms without being told.  Pay our bills on time.  Invest in things that matter to us.  Think about the kind of people that we want to be/become.

And similarly, by trying to define a set point at which we should put down roots - putting aside our "free" and "fun" ways and buying a roomba or nice set of matching dishes - we actually miss out on many of the adventures that we were made to have.  Even though I am "grown-up" there are still countless adventures left that I want to have - not as a mid-life crisis, but as a way of life, with my kids and my husband.  I'm preaching to myself every bit as much right now - but at times, we need to set aside responsibility, leave the dishes, and dance naked in the kitchen.  Or use our tax refund, which we file on time, to go someplace that we've always dreamed of just once, because the memories are worth it, rather than investing it in our 401K.  Or wake the kids up in the middle of the night to see shooting stars.  To let the matching dishes break every once in a while, and the floors stay dirty, because they can wait - and being a joyful, complete person right now, requires that you dance in the rain barefoot right now.

I think it's time to redefine what it means to be a grown-up.

And to long for that again, rather than run from it.

To see growing up less as an end to our freedom and more as an invitation to fully step into who we are.  To take responsibility for ourselves and our actions - to care fully for ourselves and others - and live a life which is actually abundantly full.

And that sure as hell doesn't have to wait until we're 30.

that love, so deep, so strong, so fierce - it's beautiful

She was crying big, hot, angry tears into her phone, as she sat in the corner seat on the train.  Embarrassed, trying to hide it, but so frustrated that they spilled over and ran down her face unbidden.

Between curses and tears, her story came out in bursts to whoever she was talking to - her son, called into the principals office again.  Again.  She having to leave work early to get him.  Feeling misunderstood by the principal.  Feeling like her son wasn't been seen or cared for in the ways that he needed to be.  Feeling like he had been misunderstood and passed over for months now.  Angry at the habits he was picking up elsewhere, not in her house.  At the end of her rope.  Knowing she was going to lose it when she had to talk to the principal.  Knowing that she wanted to fight for him.  Frustrated with him.  Exhausted.  Embarrassed by how much this was getting to her.  Trying to get it under control before she had to go into the live situation.

Her love for her son was written all over her face, woven through her words, and poignantly apparent in her body language.

She apologized to me, as she got off the train, for cursing in front of my children.  I wanted to thank her instead, for mirroring for me how deeply the love of motherhood is felt.

It's felt in the core of your bones.  It threatens to tear you apart, even as it makes you stronger than you ever thought possible.   These little humans that we would - we do - give our lives for, each and every day.  They drive us to the limits of our sanity, even as they rescue us from the idolatry of ourselves.  They made us mothers, even as we strive to make them to be men and women of character.  They warm our hearts, fill our arms, try our patience, and strengthen our character.   It is not a job for the fainthearted - it's a daily battle that requires courage, perseverance, faith and so so so much love.  It is sweeter, stronger, and harder than any other job I know.   As we fight for them, with them, against them, and whisper in their ears each day, "Mommy loves you so, so much.  And I'm longing for, hoping for, and praying for the (wo)man you're becoming.  I'm for you.  I'm proud of you."

I wanted to tell her all of that.  Sister, I know.  It about tears you in two.  Even as you wouldn't trade it for all the riches in the world.

Instead I just said, "I'm sorry it's been a rough day.  But you're doing a good job.  I know being a mom is hard.  But you're the right woman for the job.  Hang in there." as she gathered herself together to head into her battle for the day.

Now, I too need to hear those words spoken over me.

Not three hours after I got home, we got a call from the pediatrician's office that we had just left, that has brought me undone as well.  Not necessarily bad news - but somewhat significant inconclusive tests.  Tests that require more tests.  Tests that might lead to nothing - or might lead to bigger, more scary things.  And I'm caught of the middle of a love that is so deep that it holds all things, and a fear that one of the ones that I love that much might be hurt or hurting.

And in the midst of my overwhelmed, feeling chaotic, fearful, tearful, and a bit lost - asking a few friends for support and prayer - trying to make wise decisions - trying to avoid google searching things - and trying to take good care of two little boys - I'm coming back to that very brief interaction on the train.

That love that cuts you in two, and then makes you stronger than you ever thought possible.

Sister, it's been a hard day, I know.

But you're doing a good job.  You're the right woman for the job.  Hang in there.  You'll make it through.  And those of us that are in that battle with you, with you, we know.  We're here with you.

And that love?  That love, so deep, so strong, so fierce that scares you - your tears, as it undoes you - it's beautiful.

Toddler dialogues

When S was little, I did monthly picture posts detailing everything in his life, from the most mundane to the most exciting.  I have done my best to do the same for E - but sometimes a little less often than I would like.  However, I have noticed that since S turned one, I haven't really written anything about him or his profundities or quirks or delightfulness.  So consider this a teeny tiny window into the world of Samuel, age 26 months.

I should note that no one taught this child to make this face when someone takes his picture.  But the moment you whip out the camera phone, we go into all shades and shapes of this face:

Or this face.

Or, oh wait, this face:

Matching outfit (not) winning all (any) kinds of styling awards, but making for a very excited and happy toddler.

I think it's adorable.  But then again, maybe it's just because it kind of reminds me that we're related.  Like so, for example.

Only the classiest for the classiest.  But I digress.

Daily Conversations with S.

In general, S has three main veins of conversation -

1. detailing everything that has happened or is currently happening or will happen
2. making a joke ad infinitem
3. asking if he can help with something (anything) (everything)

He is, and always has been, one of the most sweet, helpful, small boys that I know.  And still to this day, "Helpf, mama?!" is one of his most common expressions.  Everything from baking bread to showering, he wants to help.  And while at times it does lend itself to additional chaos, as his "help" is still slightly less than refined at times, I think it is actually indicative of his personality, which is a sweet gift.  But, because whatever I'm doing, he's always right there, "helpfing" - we often have conversations such as the following:

K: (as we head down to do laundry) okay, S, we need to talk in our whisper voice because E is sleeping right behind this door, it's 9am on a Saturday, and we don't want to disturb our neighbors.  Do you know what a whisper voice is?
S: (whispers) Yeah
S: (shouts, 5 seconds later) MAMAMAMAMA Why-ya seeeping!!

Or, while we are (both, apparently) feeding E:

S: Mama feed Why-ya mopf bress?
K: Yes, mama feeds E with milk from her breast
S: Mama, one, two, seven bress? (points and counts)

The most I've ever had, according to him, is thirteen.  Because I know you were wondering.

"Helpfing" me nurse normal involves
sitting on top of his brother

Or, while he is attempting to "helpf" me shower:

K: S, can mommy have a bit of privacy please?
S: (perched on the edge of the bathtub): pie-racy? yeeeah... (doesn't move) (then dumps ALL the bathtoys into the bathtub)

Other times, we seem to tiptoe along the tightrope of learning and figuring things out and utter silliness and giggles:

As we learn the necessity of prepositions:

S: Mama, air-pin?
K: No, baby, Mommy is not an airplane.
::dissolves into fits of giggles and then repeats joke ad infinitem::

(ad infinitem is a common theme in our household these days)

As we begin our analysis of Freud's theory of "pee-is" envy:

S: (chanting excitedly, on repeat) y Daddy pee-is, y S pee-is, y E pee-is.  (sad face, quieter voice): Mama no pee-is.  Mama girl.

Also, the reason that we haven't mastered potty-training yet...

S: MAMAMAMA... pooooop-ing!
K: Do you need to poop right now?
S: YES!
K: okay, let's go poop on the potty.
S: no.... ahhh done! YAY!
(and lo and behold, he's always right...)

But, as the good big brother that he is (and he really is) - he is always looking out for E and making sure that he is safe and not getting into trouble.

S: Why-ya in BAAABOON! (the room with the toilet)

Silly little monkey.  How did he get in there??

And finally, if you ever need to entertain S - all you need to do is change a word or even a letter of a word, so that it's contextually inaccurate, and he will be helplessly giggly and repeat-y for as long as you're willing to continue making the same joke ad infinitem. Por exemplo:

S: y have juice?
K: no, S, we're not going to have juice today
S: (silly look) Nana juice?
K: no, silly boy, we don't have banana juice.
S: Nana goose?
S: Nana moose? Goose?
::dissolves into fits of giggles:: ::repeat::

While most days his energy totally tops ours, and we are waaaaaaay more excited for bedtime than he is, we are totally loving this little boy and all of the ways that he is growing up!  He is a sweet, curious, kind little man, and we are constantly entertained by his antics.  Especially when he tries to skip.  Or when he does his donut dance.  Or when he pronounces bubblebee as "bumbleME!"

Man, I love this kiddo!  xoxo

Grace, Grace. More Grace.

Yesterday was a phenomenal day, personally and in parenting.  I asked for help, graciously received really helpful feedback and thought through ways to implement it for our family;  I didn't lose my temper at all with the boys; they took great naps; we had adventures and explored; I thoroughly enjoyed my kiddos, and by bedtime we were all a good kind of tired.  And I was peaceful and generous still when Jon got home.  Yesterday was the kind of day that I probably should write about, but didn't.  Instead, we write today.

Today.

Today has been the kind of day that you want to hide from and pretend never happened.

By 9am today, we were already on full-out-temper-tantrum, puddle-on-the-floor number three - and I had already lost my temper once, and responded in anger to my oldest son.  And from there, it just went downhill.  Can I just be real for a moment?  Two is can be a really hard age, y'all.  I love my son to pieces, and his curiosity and intelligence are wonderful - but some days are just exhausting, as I set boundaries and he pushes back on a.l.l. of them.  Saying no constantly is "NO" fun.  It's not bad-ness, or even purely disobedience - it's just the experience of growing up and figuring out his limits - he's a really sweet little boy - but man, it is wearing.  And I don't always respond in the ways that I know are good, or even the ways that I want to.

I wrote this reflection during their pseudo nap-time, as I attempted to reset and regain perspective.  I'm guessing some of you might resonate, so I share it with you for that reason, as I attempt to live more in the #RealMeRightNow mentality and transparency in writing.

In my tatter-kneed jeans, I kneel

Raw skin against the floor -

Too much skin in the ballgame.

Jesus, Jesus, when you called me into this job -

This life, this calling -

Motherhood -

I thought you would equip me.

I thought you would enable me.

I thought you would make me enough.

But I am not.

I'm not enough to handle my boys crazy.

And definitely not enough to handle my own.

Their curiosity has bested me - their energy exhausted me -

My temper has defeated me - my own words accused and marked me.

I have not been the mother I ought to be,

And certainly not the mother I thought I'd be.

Jesus, Jesus, I thought that you'd equip me.

I thought that you would enable me.

I thought that you would make me enough.

There is no manual - there are no instructions -

Wheels up, you hit the ground running.

As I hold the oldest, whispering in his ear -

"Mommy's sorry, baby."

"I lost my temper again.  Please forgive me."

Or listen to the littlest fight against sleep, even now,

Brain overloaded and muscles moving with new developments

That I can't fix or help -

I thought - this is motherhood.

And it's okay.

Take a deep breath -

Hold your babies in your arms and look them in the eyes,

"I'm so sorry baby.  Mommy needs grace too."

"And so do you."

Mommy is - I am - not enough.

And that's okay.

Jesus is.

There is no condemnation here.

And you are not alone.

Deep breath.

Grace, grace, more grace.

Reset.

I am not enough.  But I know who is.

And that's more than okay.

Motherhood is not about being enough.

It's about being present.

Giving all you've got and then some.

Loving with a love that is fierce and for them and yet

Loving yourself enough to take care of yourself for you and for them.

Knowing your own limits, even as you honor theirs.

Grace, grace, more grace.

It's not about being flawless -

It's about owning your imperfections and modeling,

Grace.  Repentance.  Forgiveness.  Rest.  Refueling.

If perfection or enough is your goal -

You've lost already.

Our children need our strength, yes.

But they also need to see our weaknesses and need

In order to find freedom for their own -

Strengths and Weaknesses.

Grace.  Grace.  More grace.

Grace is what I need today.

Grace for my children.

Grace for myself.

Grace.  Grace.  More grace.

things I'm loving right now

I have more personal posts stewing and brewing in my mind, but right now is just not the day for writing them.  My apologies to the roughly 3.2 of you who are waiting on bated breathe.  Maybe tomorrow.  But for today, we get to settle for 8 (it would be 10, but that's way too cliche and my toddler is waking up...) things that I'm loving right now.  Maybe they'll give you a bit of a lift for the day as well.  This is not a sponsored post (because when do I have time to orchestrate that...), it's just for sharing the love [and also so that I can avoid delay writing something else...].

1. The Voxer app for your phone - basically like a walkie talkie app which allows you to leave spoken messages for friends and family, similar to texts.  It's the happy marriage of a voicemail without the hassle of a voicemail, with the ease of a text message.  It's transforming the way that I stay in touch with people near and far.

2. Camp Patton blog and instagram, written by Grace, spunky mom to four (soon-to-be 5) littles under 5 years old - she's witty, sassy and classy, and never fails to make me laugh with her real-life take on motherhood.  If I need a pick-me-up on life, she's got it.

3. Ebates online savings website - I discovered it through a friend in early November, and thanks to Black Friday and Christmas shopping, it's already been worth it's weight in gold, with little effort and no extra purchases needed.  Cash back and bonuses have been over $100 cold hard cash (well, warm floppy checks, but still...), and I could not recommend it more.

4. Our YMCA and free childcare.  Free. Childcare.  Need I say more?  This mama gets her energy and life from endorphins and sweat, and with a grand total of 105.7 inches of snow (that's nearly 9 feet, for those counting), let's just say that I sang the hallelujah chorus in my head when we finally joined.

5. Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life (Richard Rohr) - a friend and I are reading this during Lent, and it's meaty and wordy and dense, but it's like a good steak for my soul.  It's bringing new life into spaces that I didn't realize were hungry or empty and I feel like I'm constantly referencing something from it.  I loved Rohr's take on the Enneagram, and am glad I followed him here too.

6. Yet another friend (I'm really lucky in friends, truly!) introduced me to Thredup, largest online consignment and thrift store several months ago.   Took me a while to try it, but I'm glad that I did!  I love a good deal, and getting out to go thrift store shopping is hard with two littles.  But this is like the perfect blend of classy and cheap, all from the comfort of my rocking chair, without even having to put on pants.  BUT, on the off chance I need pants, I just bought some from Thredup, under $20 for two pairs, good as new and fit great. AND, they have kids clothes. Win-win. :)  And, bonus for you, if you join via my link, you get $10 to try it out.

7. Amazon Prime.  Hello never having to shop in real stores ever again.

8. Fresh Roasted Coffee, LLC -  we found them through Amazon several years ago and LOVE love LOVE the freshness of the whole-bean coffee delivered to your doorstep.  You can smell the package before you open it, it's that fresh.  Prices are great, and for these coffee-snob-wannabe's, the quality can't be beaten.  Grind, brew, and then add 2-3 drops of vanilla to your cup and you have yourself a cup of coffee that you'll want to reheat it the 20 times that it takes you to drink it all the way to the last drops [if you're a mom like me].

And that goes without adding, naptime at the same time for both littles.  Glory Glory, Hallelujah.  Which, is ending right now, so here we draw to an end.  Have a wonderful rest of your Monday and hope you enjoyed these little nuggets of life and warm meltyness... stay tuned for more content later!

Eulogizing the Living...

eulogize (verb): to praise highly in speech or writing.  

eulogy (noun):  a speech or piece of writing that praises someone or something highly, typically someone who has just died.

A friend and I are reading a book by Richard Rohr entitled, "Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life." It's part of my Lenten discipline - and it's worth a read, if you get a chance.   I love Rohr and his analysis of the Enneagram, and while this is in the same vein, it's a different focus and depth that I'm appreciating in this season of life. It's dense and deep, and it's making me read, re-read and ponder a lot of things - among them, who I am - what God has taught me about who I am in the past three decades - and the ways that He might be inviting me to live in the next hopefully many decades.

As I've been reflecting on that, I have been reflecting (not morbidly, I promise) on eulogies - or what we say about others, after their lives have ended.  Our last great reflections on the lives that they lived, if you will.  And you know what I've decided?

Eulogies are beautiful.  They are fantastic ways of immortalizing the dead.  Capturing a snapshot of the very best that that individual longed to be.  Remembering their good.  Celebrating their lives.

However, if we only eulogize the dead, I think we miss an incredible opportunity to celebrate and honor the living.  We are (nearly always) ourselves those who crave true, honest, affirmation and praise - often covertly or overtly demanding it from others - even while we rarely notice others enough to freely give it it unrequested, non-necessitated or unrequited.

What if we were to eulogize the living, more often?  With wisdom, with truth, and with discernment, pulling our heads out of our own metaphorical asses more often to see those around us, and use our voices for their benefit while they are yet living.  To name for them their strengths, gifts, and the ways that they have positively influenced us, while they still have ears to hear.

And beyond that, what if we actually spent time considering the people that we want to be today, and wrote our own eulogies, with the intent of living into them?  Instead of our lists of goals we hope to achieve, what if we thought more about the people that we want to become?  What if they weren't (just) summaries of the lives that we have already lived - only the positives of course - but real, honest, reflections of where we long to live, in light of the broken places, but with hope.  Real-time, they are not fluffy - but reflect a solemnity of hope, grounded in reality and a desire for growth and fullness.

I spent some time earlier today, writing my own eulogy - I hope, Lord willing, to live for many decades more; you need not worry.  I wrote it merely because I wanted to be intentional about considering the woman that I am, and the woman that I want to become.  It has been a helpful exercise for me, over the years, because it then shapes how I pray, how I make decisions, how I deal with failure, and how I define "success" differently.  It's written as a prayer, in present tense, but it's shared out of the hope that it will become reality - it is not yet who I am, even as it is grounded in the reality of who I am presently - as time passes and I grow through grace:

Jesus, help me to be someone who eulogizes the living not just the dead.  Who affirms and blesses, with truth and grace, for their benefit not my own.

A woman with peace in her presence - who is so comfortable in her own skin that others feel more comfortable in their own around her.

Someone whose laughter is frequent, free and not forced - who knows how to play in her youth and old age.

Father, may words of wisdom and discernment, preceded and followed by prayer, be my gift to others.  And may your presence consume and destroy my false self, even as it reveals and refines the true self.

Help me to use my stubbornness for others, not against them - and my truth and advocacy for their benefit, not manipulation of them.  May my sins ever be before me, binding me only in as much as they bind me to you.  In light and truth, not darkness or secrecy.

Teach me to be vulnerable, needy and humble - not denying my strength - but living humanly as a whole person, not the mirage of one.  Forgive me daily.  And change me over time through these daily acts of release and freedom. 

As my body becomes older, frailer, and fails me more and more, would you set me increasingly freer, making me even more spunky and even more alive even as my outward strength decreases.

May adventure and I not be strangers - now or in the future - and even as fear and I know each other well, may our acquaintance and influence diminish, under the weight of stories and adventures taken in the glory of obedience and letting go of the familiar and the safe.

May my life, Jesus, be filled with holy yeses, obedient no's and deep-time perspective which comes from a life-style of reflection, prayer, introspection, and the aid of wise and true companions.

Amen.