My Baby Thought I Could Quit

I’ve always wanted this. In high school I worked for an after-school childcare program and sometimes the kids would accidentally call me mom. They would get so embarrassed and turn red but I would be beaming with a huge smile. I didn’t have any kids of my own yet but I was already anxiously anticipating the day when I would be mom to someone. Everything I wanted for my future was to be married and have children (I like to think big). I knew that anything else that poured out of my life would be icing on the proverbial cake. I just wanted a family. Because being a stay-at-home mom is what I always wanted, a lot of the annoying things that occur when taking care of children all day just feel like another day at the office to me. Another poopy diaper? Yep it is 10:00a.m. so that sounds about right. You dumped out all the blocks and played with them for two seconds? Ahh typical. But there is one area of my job that plagues me because I cannot (and probably will never) win. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much effort I put into it, the kitchen will never (ever) be totally clean. Actually, I think the fact that I keep trying is the definition of complete insanity. 

Yesterday I was finishing up getting lunch ready while I tried to simultaneously put the clean dishes away. I threw some fruit on plates for my kids to serve as an appetizer until lunch was ready and hoped it would keep them occupied long enough to finally get caught up on the dishes. I had also given my son, Emmett, a bowl with a little bit of leftover smoothie from the night before. The kids were doing surprisingly well and every parent’s goal of having a clean kitchen was finally in my sights. We had spent the entire Fourth of July weekend doing every except cleaning, so with it being July 5th and the long weekend over, I was itching to get everything put back in its place. 

The stove which had endured more than five meals without being wiped off was sparkling. The crumbs in the microwave had been evicted and even the entire kitchen floor had been freshly swept. Ahh it was beautiful. I was about to achieve the miraculous feat that parents constantly strive for and rarely achieve; a clean kitchen. 

And then as my back was turned to my kids, I heard Emmett say, “Uh-ohhhhh. Sah-wee Mommy….” I slowly turned around to see that he had dropped his bowl and my freshly swept floor was now full of sticky pink smoothie. It was dripping down the counter and somehow had splattered in a 12-inch wide radius across the floor. I envisioned him playing around with his bowl and being goofy right before he dropped it and said, “Ugh. Emmett I am not happy about that.” He immediately dropped his chin onto his chest with an expression of total shame on his face. I realized almost instantaneously that I had been too harsh. With my super sensitive boy, a serious tone is enough to break his heart. I was just assuming that he had been playing around, I had no proof. Maybe he had been trying to hold the bowl while he climbed down from the stool with intentions of putting it in the sink for me. I honestly didn’t know, but I reacted with frustration because my spotless kitchen had once again, just been taken from me. 

I then told Emmett it was ok and I would like him to help me clean it up. I turned toward the sink to grab my cloth and as my back was turned I barely heard Emmett mumble, “Are you not gonna be my mommy anymore?” I froze and my heart sank. With no idea where he had heard that phrase, I did know that I must be sure he knew the answer to that question. I dropped the cloth and marched over to where he was still pouting on his stool. I sank down on my knees so that my face was level with his and gently pulled his chin up so that his eyes met mine. He was struggling to hold back tears and I smiled to show him I wasn’t upset. Then I took a deep breath and said, “Baby, I will always be your mommy. Always.” The second the last word left my lips he launched himself into my arms so hard I almost feel backwards. I hugged him tight against my chest and as he started to pull away I kissed his soft cheeks until he giggled and playfully squirmed in my arms. 

He must have heard that phrase from a movie or tv show and decided to use that moment to test it. I’m not even sure if he totally understood what it meant. But, even so I knew that I needed to affirm for him that being his mom is something I will forever be. It’s everything I ever wanted. Now that I do have the title of mom, it’s something that can never change. I will never not be their mom, and that makes me very happy. 

Maybe someday I’ll joke with Emmett about how when he was two he asked me the most ridiculous question anyone could ask me. Will I ever stop being his mommy? 

Absolutely, and positively, no.  

Blessings,

Shantastic

My Baby Has a Mickey Mouse Chair

Tick Tock. The seconds pass. Minutes fly by in a blur. The last four and a half years have whizzed by as my daughter, Grace, has barreled her way through each passing day. In the fall her future includes a year of preschool, and then in 2018…she will be gone. She’ll nosedive out of my nest, wings ablaze, and probably won’t even need to say goodbye as she runs into her Kindergarten classroom. She’s amazing. As school has begun to feel more like a concrete certainty and less like some elusive thing “off in the future”, I started to reflect on how I will feel about the years I got to have her home with me. Will I wish for more days? Will I have any regrets about how I spent my time with her? 

The moment the word regret popped into my mind, I flashed back to the days when I had been trying to get work done in my office and shushed her to be quiet. As I mentioned in a previous post ---> "My Babies Swallowed Me,"  I run a small business from home. My office is my sacred space that is devoted to doing work I love. It nourishes my introverted heart and mind. To be able to put my kids down for their naps and have that little bit of time to pour into something creative feeds my soul. But, when Grace stopped napping, I had to transition her into doing a “quiet time” in her room. Then around the time when she celebrated her fourth birthday, I began hearing footsteps outside my sanctuary and a gentle knock on the door asking me if quiet time was over. So, one afternoon in a moment of desperation, I went into the playroom and dragged her child-sized Mickey Mouse table into my office. I knew that since I had just closed to door to her room for quiet time, she would inevitably come peeking out about 12 minutes later. 

Insisting that she go back to her room could have been an option. But I didn’t want our days together to be spent with me yelling at her to go back into her room until she cried (because that had already happened a couple times). I realized that this was just part of the deal. She was growing up and I needed to figure out a way to evolve. The afternoon when I dragged her table into my office was a day when I absolutely needed to get some work done. I figured she could play with some puzzles or color a picture while I met my deadlines. Sure enough, less than 20 minutes after her quiet time had started, she poked her head around the corner and saw her table in my office. She exploded like a firework in July. “MOMMY!! Did you put my Mickey Mouse table in your office?” Then the bouncing started as she screamed, “Can I work in your office with you?” I figured she was so excited just because I had finally allowed her into a once-forbidden space. She was elated. And so our new phase began where I had a four-year-old coworker by my side. 

I tried to be as welcoming as I could. Some days I had it in me to swallow my own desires of having a child-free moment and some days I really struggled. I tried to make sure to remember to set out different activities for her to do, but there were many moments where I had to shush her and remind her that Mommy needed to get her work done. Sometimes I resorted to letting her watch Netflix on my Kindle and, of course, felt guilty about it.

So when the idea of regrets began floating around in my head, I wondered if that time spent in my office would evolve into being a full blown regret of mine. Should I have played with her more? Should I have figured out a different way to get my work done? In my more anxious moments, I felt my heart sink as I worried that those afternoons in my office of me telling her to stop talking would be the only thing she would remember from our years together. As my busy season wrapped up, I thanked God that my work has times in the year when it halts. I also prayed and asked God to redeem the time that I felt had been lost. I wanted this next season of life to be full of awesome moments that she would remember forever. I wanted her to forget the office days. 

So when I officially finished my busy season, I was the one bouncing this time. I couldn’t wait to spend these afternoons with her while her brother napped. We were going to make cookies, play games, and I wasn’t going to be weighed down with mommy guilt anymore. I was going to be super awesome fun mommy now. As she timidly raised her eyebrows and asked if quiet time was over I replied, “Yes! And guess what!! We’re going to make chocolate chip cookies today!!” She immediately jumped back with a look of confusion on her face. “What? NO. I don’t want to do that Mom.’ She said definitively. “Oh. Ok..” I said surprisingly. I quickly tried to think of a fun activity that I normally didn’t want to take the time to do. “OH what about painting? Do you want to paint with me?” “No” she responded. I tilted my head and asked her, “Really? Ok..what do you want to do?” She took no pause as she declared. “Mom. I WANT to go work in your office with you.” I just stood there, dumbfounded. “You want to go work in my office?” She shook her head yes. I was still stunned as I asked, “You…like working in my office with me?” “Yes Mom! Come on! Let’s go!” And she took off skipping down the hallway. 

She loved it. She loved working in my office with me. When I moved her table into my office, to me it was just a kid-sized desk that was now taking up space in my precious haven. But to her, I was opening up a piece of myself and inviting her into it. My office, which had once been deemed as a “childless space” now had a reserved spot just for her. Not her brother, not my husband. It’s our time for just us. I had no idea she viewed it that way. God answered my prayers for redemption even more completely than I ever anticipated. I wanted him to redeem our future, but He went a step further and redeemed our past. 

Even though I still find myself craving my own quiet time in my office, I just know the day when she heads off to school I’ll sit in my office weeping at the sight of that stupid, empty, Mickey Mouse chair. She loves sitting in that chair. And I had no idea. 

If you’re like me and you tend to be a bit too hard on yourself, just breathe. You’re probably doing better than you thought you were. 

Blessings,

Shantastic

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Have you ever had a moment similar to this? Perhaps when you felt like a lazy parent for letting your kid eat macaroni and cheese with cut up hot dogs and then found out it was her favorite meal she’s ever had?? Let’s hear it! Comment below or find me on Instagram @TotallyShantastic !!

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My Baby is Lois Lane

One of the most endearing things about my husband is that he loves superheroes. He’s not into collecting the comics but he gets lost in the stories of the characters. When we met I readily jumped on his “super” bandwagon because I knew fictional stories about people(and aliens) with superpowers would be full of rich storylines and exciting adventures. However, being the hopeless romantic that I am, I would get annoyed with my superheroes when they would pull their lame stunts like, “We can’t be together, it’s too dangerous.” I always wanted to throw my empty popcorn bowl at the tv and scream, “DUDE! You’re a freaking SUPERHERO! What could YOU possibly be afraid of??”

I, of course, would never deny Gracie my love like the superheroes often do. However, after looking into Grace’s eyes for the first time and feeling my heart double in size, I did finally start to understand where they were coming from. When Gracie entered my life she completely changed my understanding of what love really is. One of the most recent things she has taught me about love is that loving someone makes you vulnerable. When you have a child, the kind of love you feel makes you vulnerable to a point that your world would literally crumble into dust if anything bad ever happened to them. I think that must be why the Super guys are always trying to protect their gals by saying they can’t be together. If they openly love their leading ladies then they know their enemies will target the people they love, and that makes them vulnerable.

Obviously, with Grace I have a different situation than the Superheroes. I don't have to deny how much I love her. Thankfully I don’t have to distance myself from her because of a villainous bald guy who’s after me with a grudge. Grace is here, I love her, and by loving her, that makes me vulnerable. You know that gut-wrenching feeling of fear and worry you got the first time you let someone else watch your baby? That’s the kind of vulnerable I’m talking about. It’s irrational but it’s real. I wonder if the powerful superheroes worry about their leading ladies in the same way? Next to their super strength, speed, and magical talents, their loved ones probably look just as helpless as our babies do to us.

Some superhero’s origin stories detail the account of their initial struggle to accept their great responsibilities. With Gracie it’s been quite different; I’ve willingly accepted my calling of being her Supermom and protecting her the best I can. One of my Supermom responsibilities includes swooping in to save her as she is about to fall off the side of the couch. BAM! Supermom to the rescue! I’ll make sure your food isn’t too hot so you don’t burn the roof of your mouth! POW! Have no fear, mommy’s here!! I like being the one to “protect and serve” her, but sometimes I find myself wishing I had an energy source like Clark Kent does, something that could keep me from worrying about her all the time. When he is weak, all he needs is a quick dose of energy from the sun and he’s back to fighting crime with a force. How am I supposed to keep up with my Super-duties when she starts to venture off into the world? What about when she goes off to school? I’m pretty sure Supermom doesn’t get to tag along to Kindergarten.

I recently heard a humorous quote where a writer was asked, “After becoming a parent, at what point do you stop worrying about your kids?” The response that was given was the same response I think most parents would say, “never.” Worrying about your kids will probably always be every parent’s longest standing battle. Instead of defeating “bad guys” like the Superheroes I often find myself locked in a ring with my arch nemesis: worry. 

I try to conquer my worry by being her Supermom, but I hate to admit that I don’t possess the superpower to conquer it on my own. Left to my own devices I would allow myself to be completely consumed with worrying about her. I’ve always struggled in my life with trying to not worry too much and my love for her has made me even more vulnerable to it. I’m finally starting to realize that I need a source that comes from outside myself.  In the same way that the energy from the sun fuels Clark’s superpowers, I crave something in the Heavens that is bigger than myself. I believe I can finally conquer my worrying ways if I seek God and rely on Him to help me conquer my great enemy. Do you remember how I was talking earlier about how much I love Grace? How my world would cease to exist if anything ever happened to her? A mind-blowing truth that I believe in is that God loves her even more than I do. Why should I worry if the God who created the entire universe loves my little girl more than I will ever understand? Worry may be my Kryptonite, but God is my sun.

Epilogue: Oosta! This week’s post was a little heavy! I kept keeping my eyes open for a fun moment so that I could share a lighter perspective of motherhood this week but this idea of a love-induced vulnerability kept weighing on my heart. Maybe deep down I wanted to express it because I secretly wanted to know if I’m the only one who struggles with worrying for her child. I can't be, right? So, other moms and dads out there, do you ever wish you could just keep your kid locked up in a perpetual bubble of safety? Of course, I know that you have to live to grow, you have to hurt to heal, but oh…the worry that tries to creep in….I would never make it through the day if I didn’t have my sun.

Blessings,

Shantastic

My Baby Plays a Symphony

When I found out I was pregnant, I was only a few weeks along. I had taken the at-home pregnancy test and then was given another urine test at our eight-week appointment. It wasn’t until week 12 that we finally got to hear what we had been holding our breath for. Our baby had a heartbeat! Once we heard her heart beating, we could start to dream about her life. 

A few days ago I was moving through a typical pattern of my simple, yet magical days with Grace. As I put away the dishes she munched on her breakfast. I constantly have music playing at home because I love how music can reach into our lives and inspire us, touch us, and encourage us to be better. A song started playing by one of my favorite singers and my ears perked up because I had never heard it before. I started to “jam” along to it because I was connecting with the content. It’s a song about living life to its fullest and not wasting it- dreaming big, and not settling for less. The lyrics draw a parallel “between the dead and the living,” as the writer sits in a cemetery feeling inspired to not waste her life. Part of the meaning of the song is meant to be obvious. The bodies in the cemetery are dead and the people in the city behind her are alive. But I think what she is really trying to say, is how many of those people bustling through their busy lives are really alive? How many of them are just breathing in and exhaling, going through the same motions day after day?

“You said, remember that life is not meant to be wasted. We can always be chasing the sun. So fill up your lungs and just run, we’ll always be chasing the sun.”

I'm in love with the message of this song because I want to chase the sun. I want my life to mean something. I want my days to be full of life and learning and not just be someone with a heartbeat, but someone who lives. A few days ago I had a moment with Grace that could have just been a monotonous encounter but it turned out to be simply beautiful. As a parent, you change so many diapers, wipe so many noses, and try to soothe so many cries that sometimes those moments just blend into the next.  I don’t want to be one of those “bustling through life” people so I try to see the life in every moment, but at 2am, I figured I was in for another same old experience as I was woken from my cozy slumber by her slowly escalating whimper. I don’t look forward to our midnight rendezvous because as much as I wish it would be a time for us to cuddle and for her to fall asleep in my arms, it usually turns into me holding her for a few minutes until she calms down and then her screaming bloody murder the second I lay her back down in her crib.

As her whimper turned into a full-on cryfest I groggily pulled myself out of bed because after 17 months, I know which midnight cries require mom and which ones don’t. This cry was definitely a “I need some milk before I’m going back to sleep” kind of cry. As I gave her the milk and we sat in her rocking chair, I was starting to dread what was about to come next- her wails as I put her back in her crib. But as Grace finished her last gulp, God decided to wake me from my zombie-like state and remind me to be present in my moments with her. Once her bottle was empty, without any hesitation, she fell asleep in my arms. She has always been an incredibly light sleeper and she hasn’t actually slept in my arms since she was just a few months old. I relished the warmth that emitted from her body and smiled as I heard the rhythmic purr of her breath going in and out, in and out. My favorite line from the song, “and the gift of my heartbeat sounds like a symphony” echoed in my mind as I listened to Grace's symphony that proved to us so many months ago that she was real. It was the proof we had needed to give us hope that she wouldn't just be a heartbeat but that she would live.

Since having Gracie there is one piece of advice that has been said to me more than anything else. Whether her and I are out at the grocery store or on a walk, people constantly stop me to say, “Enjoy this, it goes by so fast.” I realized pretty early on in motherhood that what everyone was telling me was true. It goes by so fast. I refuse to waste the ‘gift of our heartbeats.”

We will spend our days “Chasing the Sun.”

Blessings,

Shantastic :)

P.S. If you are curious about the song I referenced in this post then I invite you to listen to the beautifulness that is Sara Bareilles, and sing along as she encourages you to "always be Chasing the Sun."