Words from the FORMER Queen of Fashion

It’s in the 70’s today, sunny, with a slight breeze.  BEAUTIFUL!  And what better way to spend the day than cleaning out my closet?  Jen Hatmaker’s book “Seven” had me feeling inspired and empowered.  I finished reading the clothing section while downing a pot of coffee….I was unstoppable!  The next four hours consisted of me trying on every article of clothing that I haven’t worn in the last six months.  This was equivalent to me running a marathon—both things I have absolutely no desire to do.  Especially after carrying and delivering three babies.  I’ve been in a three-year holding pattern when it comes to clothing.  Two years of trying to salvage my pre-twin body, and one year of accepting the body I have.  I’ve reached a plateau, and the “problem” area of my body (think stomach) isn’t going to change further without plastic surgery.  I’ve mentally accepted this, and have even come to a place where I look at my squishy belly and feel the smallest amount of gratitude.  The state of my belly is a result of having two perfectly healthy, full-term, full-size boys at the same time.  I am blessed!

And so, I found myself, hunkered down in our master bedroom with Natalie Merchant playing on Pandora, trying on everything:  dress pants from my working days, fun tops from my go-out days, and even a bridesmaid’s dress (I’m sorry Melanie, we were both so sure I’d be wearing that red silk number so often, but it didn’t make the cutL)!  If it didn’t fit perfectly, or if I didn’t love it, it was cast-off, never to return to my closet.  I was absolutely shocked at the pile of empty hangers and folded up clothes that resulted from this exercise:  9 skirts, 5 jeans, 11 dress pants, 4 shorts, 6 capris, 5 dresses, 16 tops, 3 blazers, 9 pairs of shoes, 9 scarves/belts, and 16 pieces of jewelry.  

The process has left me feeling grateful for the beautiful clothes still hanging in my closet.  Clothes that I KNOW fit (no playing Russian Roulette with picking something that may be too tight and having to suffer through an emotional breakdown).  No more thinking I have NOTHING to wear.  The clothes that remain have a spot of honor in my closet.  They will be seen and worn from here out.

And those castoffs?  It brings me such joy to imagine women who are going through a tough time sifting through these pieces.  Articles of clothing that carried me through happy and successful days, when my tummy was flat, and I had all the time in the world to mix, match and accessorize.  May they bring joy and a new sense of confidence to their next owner.  

Now that the dreaded task is complete, I’m left feeling more confident and empowered.  Who would have thought?  There were clothes I thought I couldn’t get into that looked great on!  What a confidence booster (granted that little black dress will require a new undergarment, probably costing more than the dress originally cost—HA!).   It’s another perfect example of how God can work all things for good.  I’m left wondering why I waited so long, and what project He has in mind next.

L is for Lunatic....the BEST kind of mom

A few days ago, I had one of those crazed mother incidences.  It wasn’t until my friend overheard the comment of an onlooker and shared it with me that I realized I even had the incident.  And my first reaction was shame that I had been THAT mom that had caused a scene.  We were at the outdoor community pool when a thunderstorm rolled in, which resulted in a pool closure and mass exodus of swimmers.  My friend and I herded our little troop of boys to our cars at the end of the parking lot.  I opened the passenger door so my boys could climb in, and then headed to the back to load all the pool gear into the liftgate.  I could see two little blonde heads, but not the third.  Cars were backing out and zooming to the exit at what my mommy-missing-one-boy-mind processed as speeds common in the Daytona 500.  And that’s when I lost it.  I started screaming for the missing blonde head, “Jacob!  Jacob! Jacob!”  I was sure he had turned the parking lot into his own personal maze—HE is my child who would think a real, live game of Frogger great fun!  After about 15 seconds of acting a total fool, Jacob popped his head out of the car and said, “I’m here mom!”  Well thank you Jesus….and next time answer me the first time I call your name with the lunatic tone in my voice!  

So an onlooker (with no children in tow), witnessed this scene and said in a sarcastic voice, “Good luck with that…mom with three kids!”  I so appreciate her words of concern and encouragement.  And wish her the best if and when she decides to jump in the pool of motherhood.  Yes, my first reaction was to feel shame.  But it wasn’t long before I was bursting with pride at 1) having taken my brood of three non-swimming boys to the pool on my own and 2) for turning into a mama bear when I thought the well-being of one of my cubs was at stake.  I have convinced myself that acting like a lunatic that day was a sure sign that I’m a great mom.  Cue cheers, applause, and a skinny vanilla latte at Starbucks.  And the next time I see a woman acting like a lunatic for the sake of her offspring, I just might give her a hug and high five.  We lunatics have to stick together:-).

I have arrived.....ALMOST

The day I have been awaiting for over five years finally arrived.  I packed up lunch, water toys, a picnic blanket, A BOOK, and we headed to the splash park.  We hiked up the hill, found a spot in the shade, and ate our lunch.  Of course, a bathroom break was needed within the first fifteen minutes, but then all three boys settled into playing.  They stayed in the designated play area.  They didn’t cry because the water sprayed them.  They didn’t pick a fight with other kids.  They just played.  And, for the first time ever, I pulled the book out of my bag, lounged on the picnic blanket and read.  Hallelujah!  Each page turn was a strut down the runway of motherhood.  I have arrived!

Okay, that might be overstating it just a bit.  Since my arrival yesterday to the gym’s childcare center found one of my boys sitting in timeout.  When I inquired about his offense, a very sweet college-aged girl explained that he had “gone to the bathroom” outside on the turf.  I definitely consider this an offense, but one I could understand.  Then she continued to explain he had “gone to the bathroom” on the play house that was out on the turf.  My head immediately turned into a pressure cooker, which must have been apparent because she apologetically explained that the house was all taken apart in a pile, and if she was three she would probably feel like that was a good place to go!  I should have gotten her number then and there and made her our prime babysitter!  But instead I apologized, and shuffled one shamed, crying boy and his two brothers out before they made me sign an incident report.  

Yesterday was not a shining, strut-your-stuff kind of motherhood day.  But today?  Today I will strut, enjoy my book, and pray that there are more book-reading-at-the-park days than pee’d-on-the-gym-playhouse days in my future.  Please God!  Please God!  Please God!  Let there be more reading and less peeing.  Amen.

Give yourself the gift of CAKE!

We hosted fourteen kids and eleven parents for our son’s fifth birthday party.  It was fun to let the kids run wild in the backyard, while the parents stuck to the patio like glue and participated in polite small talk.  Tacos were assembled and devoured, the birthday boy serenaded, and then the cake was cut.  The kids were first in line, and then pieces made their way to parents.  When offered a fresh cut piece, one mother said, “Oh no, my son won’t eat his.  I’ll eat his leftovers.”  Sure enough, the son soon appeared with a plate containing smashed, picked over cake chunks.  I practically demanded that she throw it away and treat herself to a fresh piece.  I insisted that she deserved it! 

This interaction stuck with me, and as I cleaned up the party mess, I started realizing I do the exact same thing.  My daily breakfast is scraping my sons’ leftovers off of their plates and into my mouth.  Literally!  Why do we settle for scraps when untouched, fresh food lies before us?  This question led me to a deeper thought.  Why do we settle for a mediocre relationship with God, when he’s offering us unlimited access to him?  God’s table is overflowing with love for us, just as our party table was full of cake.  All we have to do is reach out and take it!

Are we there yet?

We’re three weeks into summer, and it has begun.  The boys are like oil and vinegar, stuck in the salad dressing jar of our home.  No school or MOPS to provide breaks from each other.  All day every day, swirling around the house, fighting over everything….a matchbox car (mind you we have over 100 to choose from), a stick (there is apparently only one good stick in our entire half-acre backyard!?), who gets to unload the silverware from the dishwasher. ….it’s endless and humbling.  

Motherhood has definitely been a season of humbling for me.  I’ve come to realize that I have control of very little.  I’m at the mercy of three would-be terrorists to eat the healthy food I prepare and behave according to the guidelines they’ve been taught.  I certainly cook plenty of healthy, and what I consider tasty food.  And it seems we have behavior drill camp all day every day.  So I either get an A for effort, or an F for dismal failure.  It could make a mama want to throw in the towel.  Until some study of the bible helped me realize how God views the humble.  He purposely gives us seasons of humbling for our own benefit, and promises the humble great rewards.  The greatest among us will become our servant (Matthew 23:11-12). God gives the humble grace and lifts them up (James 4:6,10).  The humbling job of mothering is slowly and painfully training my heart to be meek and gentle, ready for the abundance God has awaiting me in the future.  Is it too soon to ask, “Are we there yet?”