Entering the Next Chapter

I remember the days that my daughter would return from school with little notes to all of the parents. The reminder was that we should be spending at least 15 minutes a night reading to our child. While many mothers saw this as a kind honorable reminder I saw it as a personal attack for a few reasons. The first reason was that I already knew the importance of reading to my child. I see the signs, hear the PSAs, and am even reminded by doctors and teachers. This was not a new concept to me. The second reason was because the note made it seem like they were saying, "it's only fifteen minutes of your day, isn't your child worth it?" It wasn't only  fifteen minutes a day, to me it was FIFTEEN MINUTES a day. The final reason was because the picture of a mother happily and lovingly looking over her child's shoulder as he sat quietly and peacefully in her lap was in no way my reality. So today I thought I would put a new spin on things and tell you why I hate to

Have you ever had a moment where everything seemed to come crashing down around you? Where frustration turned into tears of distraught and no matter how hard you try to pull yourself out of that bad place you were stuck feeling stranded and alone?  Most of the time I would consider myself pretty easy going. So many things happen all the time that even though they might bother me I am able to just keep going. Most of the time I am Dory... I just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. What do we do? We swim, swim.  But occasionally I find myself in a place where I can't swim anymore and I just need rescued.  Last Tuesday, I had one of those moments. Let me set the scene for you.  I had been battling a case of bronchitis for a week already and began to get worse. I hadn't been sleeping well due to being sick and due to the littlest one waking up every night at 1am and staying up for three to four hours. Both of my poor little girls were sick too. This day also seemed to be a

Tonight my heart is heavy with concerns for mothers who feel insecure, scared, and alone. I don't think that personal struggles are expressed openly in our society and I fear that it is causing more mothers to feel alone in their struggles. For example, postpartum depression is not often talked about amongst friends and yet it supposedly affects 11-20% of mothers. Personally, I wonder if the number would be higher if women did not feel guilt when admitting their struggles.  Let me start by saying that I truly feel that motherhood is an amazing gift from God. I am so blessed to have my children and wouldn't change a thing.  Now that I have said that, I am going to let you in on a dirty little secret. Motherhood is hard... actually it is not just hard. It is physically and emotionally exhausting. It is overwhelming, stressful, tedious, frustrating, painful, and the toughest things I have ever had to do. There are times that I am so overwhelmed that I can't decide whether

As she runs out of the room, I know she wasn't really listening. She arrives before me with excitement and with a feeling of accomplishment only to be welcomed by a frustrated and inpatient tone. "Abbie, I said 'go into your room and get the baby wipes. Not a tissue, not another diaper, and definitely not a toy!" I can feel my frustration turn into anger. "Forget it, I will do it myself. Do you think you can keep an eye on your sister so she doesn't fall off the couch?" I finish changing Eb's blowout of a diaper and the guilt sets in.  Abbie has a problem listening. Her hearing is perfectly fine but her listening does not work. I try tricks like repeating myself, looking her in the eyes when I say it, making her stop moving around, and having her repeat it.  She still somehow gets distracted and brings me the wrong item. Oh how lucky we are to have a father who has so much patience than I could ever have.  There are so many times that