Discouraged

I had one of those weekends.

I've been so crazy busy that I've been running around with my notebook and pen, checking one thing off my list and adding two more all in one brushstroke. 

It's been tiresome. 

Saturday was kinda my peak day with these feelings and I ended up getting hardly anything done because I sat around in my pajamas feeling sorry for myself and snapping at my kids all day. 

Lovely. Yes. Would you like to be my friend? ;)

Well anyway, I went to church Sunday dragging my feet a little bit because I just felt so overwhelmed by the things I had to do that I felt like it was almost useless to worry about it because there was just no way I'd get it all done anyway.

I was feeling overwhelmed and angry. I was angry at myself for how snappy I had been with my kids lately. I mean really, how dare they beg for my attention, right? Blah. 

So here I go into church and what does Pastor Gary start talking about? 

Being discouraged. Oh good Lord. 

A message completely and totally directed at me.

I could feel eyes burning holes in my head like everyone was staring at me, knowing that this was my personal struggle this week. Or maybe it was just Jess in the nursing room behind me staring at my uneven hair-do through the one way glass. ;)

Either way, it felt like Pastor Gary had just pulled up a chair and taken me by the hand and said "Listen up. Be ye encouraged!"

Well, almost. 

I couldn't believe it! Here I was just complaining and griping and moaning, feeling discouraged, tired and overwhelmed and Pastor Gary tells us how being discouraged is really rather insulting to our God. 

God watches each of us and gives us no more than we can handle and tells us to simply trust Him. Me being discouraged just shows that I am looking in the mirror for strength and guidance and not to my Maker. It shows that I do not trust that He can handle it; that I think that perhaps things will go a little smoother if I just go ahead a take care of it. 

Discouragement is when we've lost confidence and enthusiasm. As someone who loves and tries to follow God, this only means that I've lost confidence or enthusiasm in my God. How insulting and awful for me to walk around with a frown on my face and my arms crossed basically telling the world that I worship a God but obviously don't have any faith or confidence in Him.

Abraham Lincoln said "Let no feeling of discouragement come upon you and in the end you are sure to succeed." 

God has told us to operate in faith and not in fear. Why? Because faith has its focus on what we do want to happen and fear has its focus on what we don't want to happen. 

If God is for me then who can be against me?

How could ANYthing discourage me? 

According to your faith let it be done to you! 

If I an constantly worrying about what I can't finish, what will never happen, what I can't do, then I am setting my destiny. I am choosing my path. My thoughts should be prayers to God for strength, wisdom and guidance. That He would remind me that with Him all things are possible and that He is there beside me every step that I'll allow. I must stop pushing Him away! I must stop trying to do things in my own strength. 

How arrogant of me and insulting to Him for me to say "No thank you, Lord. I got this." 

But yet you better believe when one of the kids keeps waking up at night, He's the first one I'm running to: "Lord PLEASE let these children sleep all night! PLEASE!"

I need to pray for a strong and unwavering faith in Him. 

Pastor Gary outlined ways to live a life of little discouragement. One of them was to unlimit our lives. He used an example of an ultra marathon runner named Dean Karnazes who ran a 100 mile race, a 200 mile race and then just for kicks ran as far as he could without stopping and ran 350 miles. He had bleeding feet and missing toenails on the 100 mile race. I don't even want to know what was missing and bleeding after the 350 mile race. Pastor Gary told this story with awe and a sense of admiration, pointing to Dean as an example of dreaming big and overcoming obstacles. 

I had a hard time seeing it that way. 

If body parts are falling off, I generally see that as communication from my body asking me nicelybegging profusely to stop the abuse. 

However, most people were shaking their heads in disbelief and absorbing 

all of the obstacle overcoming vibes.

So I tried to focus on that. 

And it's true. We do tend to put limits on ourselves. I mean, who can't run across a state or two without stopping for a snack or a nap? I may do that this weekend after I read the Sunday paper. 

Could be a nice little family outing. 

And we put limits on our lives and the people in our lives. 

And most of all, we put limits on our God. We tend to decided what's too much for Him. When in reality, Christ says we can do ALL things THROUGH Him. 

Not some things.

Not most things. 

Not some things if you are in really good shape. ;) 

ALL things.

He said Do not be discouraged nor dismayed because the Lord is with you wherever you go. 

He's with us at work. On the road. At home with our kids. 

When we're trying to potty train. 

When our four year old takes her brother's train for the 95th time that day. 

When the two year old throws a tantrum and the baby is cutting teeth at 3 in the morning. 

When our husbands are working long hours. 

When we need a break. When we need a cry. When we need a hug. He's there. 

Wanting to help us, to strengthen us, to encourage us.

I think most people listening to this message were thinking about bigger things. 

They were probably thinking about not being discouraged with life. Not giving up on marriage. Not quitting their job. Giving up bad habits. Making positive choices.

I just kept thinking about my kids. I just kept thinking that when I blow my lid at home and yell at my kids or throw my hands in the air and just give up on the day, that I'm giving up on my job, my role as their mother. And I'm letting them down, my husband down, myself down and letting God down.

I was thinking about when I yelled at them to talk nicely in the car and they yelled back for me to do the same. I was asking myself if I was showing them a godly woman, a mother who draws her strength from God? I was learning that when I only try to get strength and courage from myself that I'm really robbing my kids. If I just followed His commands to be strong and of good courage by looking to Him that I'd probably be a much better mother to my children. 

That they'd probably end up being much better adults and parents themselves someday. 

I want my children to look back and tell a story of their mother and what a strong woman she was. That she was this strong and courageous person because the 

Almighty was within her and she allowed Him to take the lead.

It was exactly the message I needed to hear. And this week is going much better.

I'm trying to remember to not be discouraged for I have my God before me, beside me and within me. 

And really, what could possibly get me down?

Today I...

Baked bread for the entire month from scratch. And I whistled while I did it.

Shampooed my carpets by hand, using cloths that I wove myself.

Taught my children long division and worked on their Hebrew.

Calmly sat down and discussed with my toddler why putting his baby brother in a choke-hold is not a "good choice." In the middle of the Wal-Mart parking lot. Then we held hands and sang a song while rubbing noses.

Made every person in my family their own favorite meal and felt happy and complete as they all ate every bite and complimented each other the entire time.

Whipped up a batch of homemade laundry detergent.

Sanitized every toy in the playroom and returned each to its proper and labeled home.

Ran five miles with my dogs. Uphill. Practicing Cesar Millan's world-renowned dog training techniques. Oozing pack leadership the entire way. Oh, and no, they do not have to be on leashes. They are so well-behaved.

Sent every one of my friends a hand-sewn satchel of love with a written note telling them how much I appreciate them.

Led an impromptu Bible study on the corner of my block, strumming a harp and singing "Kum-ba-yah."

Stroked my hubby's ego as soon as he walked in the door and then sat and watched the entire Star Wars series to show my complete and utter devotion.

Wait, you think I'm lying? That I'm making this all up? What??!!

You know me too well.

It went more like this:

Scooped up all the bread on the day old rack to cram in my freezer for the next month. I like to stay well stocked. Which is why, right before we went to the store, we had PB&J on saltines. Mmmm...    :o/

Moved my couch down a couple inches to cover a stain on the carpet. Just until I get a hold of a shampooer.

Gave my kids a preschool workbook, some markers and a couple pairs of safety scissors and told them to learn something. Just until I finished watching Oprah wiping down the counters.

Told my toddler that if he didn't let go of his brother, I'd personally take him down WWF style right here, right now. In the middle of the Wal-Mart parking lot. Then I told the lady staring at me to pull up a chair for front row seats.

Heated up leftovers for dinner and upon hearing the "Chili, agaaaiiin?!" whines, I said it doesn't count as leftovers if you didn't touch it the night before. Then I mentally zoned out and took myself somewhere far away and exotic as the screeching and food flinging ensued.

Added a little water to the tiny bit of laundry soap I had left so that I could at least wash my husband's work clothes. And no, he did NOT ask me to wash him so clothes because he had no clean ones left! That would be really terrible.

Tossed the toys in the play room at the end of the night. And actually, yes, I was completely satisfied as long as they were just inside the doorway. Sanitize? I'm not running a hospital here! ;)

Walked to the mailbox. All thirty feet. Slowly. Without kids. Definitely without dogs. Enjoying the quiet. I have no idea what either the kids OR the dogs were doing while I was outside. I DO know that when I go back both kids' bedding (ALL of it) was downstairs and my lemon tree in my backyard looks like a stick person in the ground. :(

Forgot to call a friend and my MIL back until it was too late. :o/ Sorry, guys.

Pondered whether I could consider looking at a craft blog with a Bible verse picture tutorial my devotion for the day. Thought God probably didn't think that was funny. Stopped blog hopping and did a devotion.

Scoffed at my hubby's television choice for the night. Ancient Aliens vs. Ellen?? No brainer!

All in all, I think it was a pretty nice day. Just a friendly reminder that this blog is not portraying a picture perfect mom, family or life. Rather, the story of me trying to be a mom, take care of my family and keep up with life. :)

Belle sings SIlent Night

A couple weeks ago, when I put Son down for a nap, we had one of those insane moments. The screaming, flailing, hitting, kicking, arching back, levitating, running up the walls and drop-kicking toys, speaking in another dialect...you know, when a kid does NOT want to nap so badly that they go all 

Emily Rose on you? Yeah. It was kinda like that. 

I tried to reach out and rub his back. 

He jerked away.

I tried to calmly say his name and talk to him.

He screamed at me.

I tried to cuddle him.

He hit me.

I tried to leave.

He threw stuff and screamed to come back.

It was definitely not one of his most charming moments.

I was at a loss and getting frustrated, anticipating that he would be waking Baby up any moment. 

I pleaded with God to cast out the demons. I sat down on the floor of his room, watching my little boy lose his marbles because he was so sleepy, and I started to sing. It was Christmas time and the only song that came to mind immediately seemed to reflect the deepest desires of my heart. I sang Silent Night. Right after the first "Holy Night," he sat down and watched me, wiping his eyes and sniffling that sad little kid sniffle. As soon as I got to "yon virgin," he crawled over and started to climb on my lap. I looked past the boogers and tears and pulled him in, leaning his red, tear-stained face on my chest. 

I wrapped my arms around him and finished the song, rocking slightly. 

I started to sing it again and was about halfway through when he stopped me. 

"Mommy...Mommy..."

I was a little annoyed. Couldn't he just enjoy the moment and fall asleep? Do we have to have questions, or discussions or arguments right now?

"What Son?"

"Mommy...can you sing it two more times?"

"Yes Son. Do you like this song?"

"Yeah, I like dis song. You sing dis song like Belle. So pretty Mommy."

Guilt set in for feeling so annoyed. Thankfulness set in for God helping me keep my cool and showing me what my little boy needed. I sang Silent Night two more times and then tucked Son into bed. 

I have since had the same scenario happen a couple times. Son goes into hysteria at bed or nap time. Demons take over. I pull out Silent Night in my best Belle voice and demons run for the hills. 

I would highly recommend this technique to any religious leader with a sticky demon possession situation or any mother with a sleep demon lingering.

 One or two refrains of Silent Night (using a Belle voice) and your insane child is out. 

You can all thank me later. ;-)

Seriously

They don't happen often.
You know, those days.
Those days that I regret getting out of bed all day long.
They are rare, but when they hit me, ugh...it's bad.
I knew today was going to be a bad day.
But then, I'm sure that my negative attitude from the beginning definitely influenced it also.
But all in all, today was one of those days.

Baby woke up four times in the night, for no apparent reason.
For some reason (he's always been this way), he does not like me to rock him to sleep. Only once in a blue moon. For the most part, it's a big struggle for me to get him back to sleep. However, if Hubby gives it a shot, he's out like a light in seconds. Baby adores his daddy, but man oh man, it really makes it tough on Mommy when he wants comforting and love, but not from me.
Last night was just like that, but Hubby worked super late, getting home around 3am and even then, he had to be up and leaving again before 9am, so I didn't dare wake him and ask him to help.
So Baby and I spent quite a bit of time together last night struggling and fighting with each other; him wanting someone to hold him, me not being the right someone. It was exhausting. His last wake up call was around 4:15 this morning. This one went on for an hour before it woke up Son, who I quickly ushered back to bed.
Baby finally gave it up to slumber around 5:40 at which point I scrambled back to bed, knowing that my minutes were few.
Sure as the sun rising, Son caught a glimmer of pre-dawn light before he fell back asleep and came in my room around ten to six. I told him to go back to bed or go read books quietly. He did and I snapped my eyes shut again. I caught a light shining under Daughter's door right before I tempted sleep again and decided to ignore it. Nevertheless, she prances out around 6:15, dressed and blinds open, hair brushed and a pretty little smile on her face. I could have lost it. She went downstairs to watch TV, but Son heard her and also went running downstairs. Although they tried to be quiet, it just wasn't enough and no more than two minutes later, Baby was back awake and pointing to the door, wanting to join his brother and sister. I went and got him and took him downstairs to the early morning sounds of first thing sibling rivalry. I sat down on the couch and Daughter complained that since it was still not very light she couldn't see her coloring page. OH.EM.GEE.

That was flip-out moment one of the day. I told them that they were up way too early, and that it was probably not going to be a great day.

From that very minute, Daughter turned into a cry-baby, Son was screeching about anything and everything and Baby was just plain grumpy. Not to mention I was in a pretty foul mood myself.

The rest of the day was just a jumbled mess of launched food, doors left open to welcome the flies, toys chucked at one another, hitting, screaming, taking blankets, whining for snacks upon snacks, poop  smeared into carpets and ink stamps all over our beige couch.

Right about now, I expect that you are pitying me: poor sleep-deprived momma, hormone crazed, no help and a trio of wild and reckless kids who were out of control all day. Sure, I'd love to just sit back and take all the sweet comments, the poor you's, the we've all been there's. But honestly, I can't.

Because as awful as the day was, I did absolutely nothing to make it better. I yelled, I lost my cool in front of my kids, I guilted them, I ignored their requests to play. I prayed in my head, for help and for the chaos to stop, but it was always half-hearted and easily interrupted. I never gathered my kids on my lap and pulled out our devotional. I never held their hands and called for prayer time together. I never took them on a walk to cool off. In my defense, it was kinda hot. But still, you know what I mean. And you know what kept ringing in my head...the same thing over and over, like someone was in there shouting it at me...

Really, it's just messes. It's just stamp ink, it cleans up. Is this really enough to make you lose control? Man, the enemy is having a hay day with you today. Seriously, you're losing composure over sibling bickering?! And stamps? And a little poop on the carpet?

Yeah. I knew I was out of control. I knew I was wrong. I knew I was making a bigger deal out of all this than necessary. And I knew I was making it worse. And blaming it on my kids. At one point I heard them in Daughter's room saying they wished Daddy were home. My heart broke. Well, it started to. Then I told myself that they weren't the only ones that wished he were home. I threw myself a pity party and walked away from my kids, hurting and sad.

     **********************************

I wrote the above last night, right before dinner. I'm writing this Sunday morning. I stopped last night to make and serve dinner and we had a lovely meal together. My kids pointed out that I wasn't grumpy anymore and that they were ready to be sweet. I was starting to feel much better, we sat and read three books together and then cleaned up toys before heading upstairs to take a bath. And the whole time, through dinner and stories, I kept asking myself why I had been so ill-tempered all day over such little inconveniences.

When we got upstairs, Daughter opened the door to my room and I headed into our bathroom to get the tub ready. I noticed that the cabinet under Hubby's sink was open and quite a few things looked like they were missing. The child lock had been broken off. I asked who did it (assuming Son, my mischievous one) and Son was quick to deny being involved. He seemed very sincere and I was a little confused. Daughter also said she didn't do it and she said that Son did. Then she ran over to Hubby's side of the bed and shouted that Daddy was going to be so mad. I went over and looked and gasped. I was shocked at what I saw.

There were bottles strewn all over the floor and nightstand and our bed and hubby's drawers were covered in a cocktail of shaving cream, talcum powder, lotion, Vaseline, mouthwash, rubbing alcohol and more. It was a disaster. Soaked all the way through blankets, pillows and deep into the mattress. The clothes in hubby's drawers were soaked and soiled. The bottles were empty all over the floor and there was Vaseline smeared all over the table and lamp.

I asked who was responsible and Son said he did not do it and Daughter said that Son did do it and she heard him. I asked when and if she saw him doing it and she said during nap time and that she did see him. I asked why she hadn't come and told me and then pointed out that I knew he was sleeping, I had checked on him. She remained adamant that he had done it, but the when started to change a bit and Son was just standing there crying absolutely insisting he did not. Finally I got it out of Daughter that she did it an hr or so earlier when I had sent her to her room for hitting her brother.

I sat down and started crying. I was so overwhelmed with the entire day. And I had just started to feel like it was getting better. Now, just a few minutes before we needed to get cleaned up for bed and Hubby would be getting home shortly thereafter, this. This catastrophe of a mess. The four loads of laundry that sat waiting, covered in Vaseline and shaving cream. The soaked mattress that reeked of rubbing alcohol and would not be clean or dry for Hubby and I to sleep on tonight. The amount of wasted product that I hadn't planned on purchasing for quite a while. The possible stains on my white bedspread and skirt. Would the mattress come all the way clean? Would it be ruined? But one of the biggest things was the lying. Why did she lie about it so? She told me she did it because it was fun and that she blamed Son because she didn't want to get in trouble. What five year old does this? I expect this from my toddler and preschooler, not my kindergartner who rarely gets in trouble for anything more than a snippy little attitude.

Here's what she used:
3 1 liter bottles of mouthwash
1 large bottle of rubbing alcohol
1 container of talcum powder
1 bottle of pet shampoo
2 bottles of body wash
2 cans of shaving cream
1 jar of Vaseline
1 tube diaper ointment
1 bottle of baby lotion
1 bottle of corn huskers lotion
1 bottle of regular lotion
1 deodorant smeared
1 box of 500 q-tips
1 container of witch hazel pads
2 bottles of cologne spritzed down about halfway
10 boxes of matches
1 container of salt

I sent her to bed and got to work cleaning up. Hubby got home soon after and we cleaned together. We slept on the floor downstairs last night. I stayed up much later than I would have liked washing and folding all of Hubby's socks, underwear and shirts so that he'd have clothes for work today.

And then I laid awake, on the floor, thinking. Thinking about the no good, very bad, terrible, awful day. Remembering each and every bad thing that happened and also remembering that I had not tried to turn to God even once. My children learned a terrible lesson yesterday. They learned that when things are tough, out of control, just not going smoothly, to scream and yell, to cry, to throw fits, to be grumpy and not do anything to change it. They asked me multiple times yesterday if we could stop being grumpy and have a good day. Know what I said? I told them no. I told them I was too tired to do that. That I was too frustrated.

I was right. I had every ingredient there for a bad day, a breakdown. Hormones, exhaustion, no help, crazy kids, messes and disasters. But I also had the key to a solution. The way to turn it around, to teach my kids valuable lessons. I had the Creator of the Universe at my beckoning call. Yet, I never beckoned. I never called. I folded my arms and pouted and proclaimed for all to see and hear that I was having a bad day. That nothing was going to change that. And then, at every turn of the day I kept wondering why nothing was changing. Why the day just kept getting worse.

I should have listened more closely. When I told my kids I was too tired, I should have left it at that. I am too tired. God, I need your strength. Instead I said, I am too tired. We're going to have a bad day.

I decided our fate yesterday before anyone even had a chance. When God sent His still small voice to urge me to lean on Him, I shouted over it. I stomped my feet and threw my fists in the air.

So now what?
Well, yesterday is just that. Yesterday. It's gone.
So today, I vow to run to God when I'm feeling frustrated.
To beg for His strength when I know I can't take anymore.
To plead for His spirit to fill me when I'm grumpy.
To pray that He would live in me when I am too tired.
To remember that it's just stuff.
It's just a mess.
It's just sibling bickering.
It's just an attitude.
It's all temporary and not eternal.
But that each of these times, these moments when I just want to bury my head in the sand provide an opportunity. If I pull my head out and look up, I will see that there is a chance for a lesson in each of these difficult and trying moments. I can teach my children how to respond to situations the way Jesus wants us to. When my children are being unlovable, I can show them how Jesus loves them, by trying to love them the same. I always love my kids, but when I'm yelling at them, blaming them for my grumpy attitude and losing my cool, do I really think that their little 1, 3 and 5 year old brains are comprehending that as love? Or that their little hearts are feeling my love? I doubt it. And how can they ever learn about or see Jesus' love in me, if I am not even showing them my own?

So today I vow to do things differently.
I'm sure I will be tested. I'm sure the enemy will find my weak spot again. But I won't let him have this day. Nope. He got yesterday. And that is unfortunate. But, today is the day that the Lord has made, how can I NOT rejoice and be glad? How can I not teach my children to be thankful and joyful in all things? How can I not show them where my help and strength comes from, if only I ask?

I must.
And I will.
Thank you Jesus for new days.
New beginnings.
That you love me no matter what and I never feel it waver.
That you have more mercies, more grace for me each moment.
That I can't use it all up.
That you don't ever choose yourself over me.
That I never worry that I cannot call on you, for you might be having some "Jesus time."
That you are always there,
always putting my needs first.
Help me to be the same mother to my kids as the Father you are to me.
Quiet my voice so that I only hear yours.
Calm my spirit so I feel yours.
Close my own eyes so that I only look with yours.
Purify my heart so that I can only love with yours.

I have failed miserably God.
Thank you for forgiving me.
For giving me more chances than I can count.
Thank you that there is nothing I can do to lose your love.
Help me Jesus.

On a lighter note, our bed from last night is making a great spot to watch a movie this morning ;)