Self Creating Chaos

“Moooommmmmmmmmmm!!!!!!!!!!” Are my children the only children that make a three letter word fourteen syllables? Do they alone find a way to bellow from the other room? Is there a reason that their super power is to walk past their father to stand at the bathroom door and ask me for something? Could I just get from the car to the backdoor once without answering three questions? The answers are pretty simple and the truth is harsh but realistic. No mine aren’t the only ones, they partner my existence with the answers to questions and needs, I made them this way and taught them to act this way.  Yes, they bypass their father, and yes to an extent that is totally my fault. From the moment they took their first breath I dictated what they ate, what they wore, what they
played with. I gave them things to read and music to listen to. When someone else intervened I often quickly cut them off laying claim on “my children.” God gave them to me, it was my job to raise them.

Bless their poor dad, my husband. When he tried to plan or address any of the above I often corrected his choices with what I thought was best. When I left him home alone I came home and frequently criticized what he had done in my absence. So let’s be honest. I cannot be really shocked when by default at this point they bypass the assumed momma drama and just stalk me to fix things. One of the things that the women in my generation need to accept is that we created our chaos. We decided we could have it all. We decided to both fry the bacon and bring it home, and we dared anyone to interrupt us. We shuffled everyone around us into our color coded day planners and insisted that we could do it all. On a regular basis we have predictable meltdowns as the families we are raising stand gawking about and then we snap at them for holding their hands up waiting for instruction.

Lately I’ve been very convicted about how I’ve created my own chaotic nonsense. Not to say that others haven’t added to it, they have. However, it’s sheer nonsense to play the blame game until we own our own choices. We cannot have it all. It’s true, our bodies were not intended to juggle a twelve hour workday and a twenty four hour nurturing home life. We cannot be the friends we intend to be while staying perfectly manicured and keeping picture perfect homes. Occasionally we have to embrace the coffee stains for quick stops in carpool lines and muddy floor mats from cross country practice. Every once in awhile we need to smile as the bellowing lingers from the other room because it means we are needed. Daily we need to be grateful for the friends, family, teachers, and spouses that help us get it all done, even if they do not do it our way.

I am the queen of the martyrs and the whiners. Royalty among those striving to be perfect until I strike mental collapse. I forget important things because I’ve stuff to much in my brain. I miss important moments because I got too caught up in the little things. Although those around me have their own wrongs, I have lived in a state of why me at times that lines my pockets with regret instead of gratitude. Sometimes I just need to breathe. One of the most successful women I’ve ever met once said to a large group something has stuck with me forever, “We need to stop caring how the dishwasher was loaded and just be grateful we aren’t the ones that loaded it.” That has stuck with me for quite a long time.

Listen, I do not have all the answers. Just yesterday I melted down on a child for messing up my nicely folded laundry basket and freaked out over leaves tracked in at the backdoor. However, what I do know is this. Until I learn to breathe I’m going to keep feeling like I can’t. Until I learn to be grateful for the little things, the big breakthroughs will continue to elude me. Until I embrace my own normal and quit searching for the idealized perfection I’ve created in my mind I’ll remain stagnant and dissatisfied. May I become grateful for the bellows and disorganized mess because someday I shall grieve its absence. May I accept my own reality for its beauty and may I stop seeking normal.

No Fuss No Muss Just Bliss

I just rejoined society this morning.  Logging into social media I smiled at the pictures of folks gathering with family and friends.  A tinge of guilt struck as I noted two parties I was invited to and didn’t attend this weekend.  I wanted to, but I needed not to.  A wave of mommy guilt as I noticed the kids’ friends at things they were invited to but I didn’t take them to the last three days emerged but I quickly strove to dismiss it.  By Friday last week the weather boldly imitated my heart.  Cold, tired, weathered, and gloomy. The complete opposite of my typical personality.  Nobody but me to blame.  I had ignored my need to relax and decompress to the point of completely running myself into the ground.  Putting on a smiling face, and a snarky tude to those who had to deal with me daily I alone had chosen to push myself to this embarrassing and ugly place.

We had Friday evening commitments and I would rather have been beat than fulfill them.  I adored our son’s theatre company, I wanted to spend time alone with our youngest son.  However the idea of maneuvering the rain and the muck to get everyone where they needed to be took my battery light from red to non-existent.  We had a cross country meet the next morning, we had parties I wanted to attend over the weekend.  In between it all we wanted camp at least one night on the farm to try our new tent and there was food to prepare, laundry to do, and a house that looked abandoned.  I just wanted to disappear.

Due to the weather our meet was cancelled and I was grateful, yet felt so very guilty.  My very practical and sensible husband pushed me to cancel everything else and we have enjoyed three days that my rear end has not yet been placed in the seat of the car.  We fulfilled our Friday commitments and then shut it down.  Creating a campsite on our farm we cooked over an open fire, slept until we didn’t want to anymore, read through articles we’d saved for “later”, tried new recipes and only checked our phones a couple times a day.  I let my children have treats I normally don’t, I let myself go without makeup or to be honest even a hairbrush.  I let the dogs lay at my feet and get hair on the hem of my pants (a normal pet peeve!), and I left the grass we tracked in on the living room floor for two whole days before I cleaned it.

It was freeing to just shut down and to sleep under the stars in my own backyard.  It was also stressful as I thought of the to-do list that could lengthen as I walked away.  Yet today, as we rejoin life and get back to things I feel a refreshed vigor for my journey and I certainly like the people I share my home with much more! We were all getting so grumpy with each other over absolutely nothing at all.

I listened to a sermon by Steven Furtick this week that I found to be extremely pertinent to how I have been doing life over the last few months.  The discussion was on why are we so anxious and one of his points really hit home to me.  Summarizing and not quoting, God cannot give me the peace I long for until I make room for peace.  If my brain is full of social media, and focused on all that’s going on in local and world news then He cannot grant peace because there is simply no room.

Truth is I’m an information junkie.  I clip articles and pin to my heart’s content on Pinterest to the point that my brain is so full that my primary reaction to everything becomes overwhelmed.  By leading me to stop the madness so to speak, my husband gave me an opportunity to recharge and to rejoin life to my full potential.  Allowing him to lead could create a whole new blog post for another time, but I’m grateful, even if I’m a bit anxious about what I’ve missed.

As I speak we each have a to-do list for the rest of the day and we are working together to clean our home and tear down our campsite in an effort to present our best selves for the rest of the week.  I don’t feel hurried this afternoon and I can’t name 10 things I’ve accomplished but I am satisfied that I tried a couple things on that Pinterest board today and they were huge successes.  I’ve had serious writer’s block for weeks despite a list of potential topics that would overwhelm the busiest writer, yet today the words flow easily.  No make-up, no fuss, I’ve worn and washed the same mission trip t-shirt three times since Thursday because it’s just comfy, and I’m delighted at how the dishwasher hums in satisfaction of home cooked meals for my family.  My boys slept under the stars again last night with bellies full of s’mores and the scent of campfire lingers on the laundry I’m washing.  It’s been a truly simple few days, yet for the first time in a long time I’m really excited to go to work tomorrow.  I’ve always loved my job but felt inadequate lately.  Now I feel ready to be challenged again.  Maybe the one huge takeaway from all this is that we create our own peace just as we create our own chaos.  True, other factors play into our life, however, we control us.  Maybe my new normal will include more campfires and tents and less calculating my success in my ARC planner.  Maybe I’ve learned to spend more time listening than doing, or maybe I’ll just be glad my husband has so he can keep teaching me.