Word to The Mother

To engage the reader in your setting, try writing using all five of your senses.

I suggest this to my kids and get pretty interesting results.  My favorite quote thus far has been,

"Whoosh!  I smell old people."

Gems like that make grading personal narratives on a Saturday morning interesting.

I'm going to take my own advice and try to set up for you the thing that is MOTHERHOOD.  (Because all of us twenty-somethings are the first ones to go through it and we really need to let the rest of you know what it's like...)

Motherhood smells like puke and melted crayons.

Motherhood sounds like the devastating cry of a morning alarm clock when you've gotten up four times in the night to check on congested children and supply juice or hugs as needed.

Motherhood tastes like cold dinner and leftovers.

Motherhood looks like a messy house, smashed lipsticks, piles of laundry, dirty dishes, spit up stains, more laundry, and the waiting room at the doctor's office.

Motherhood feels like cradling a twenty pound infant with your left arm, carrying a five pound umbrella stroller in your right, climbing bleachers to the top to watch a football game while coaxing a toddler to follow you, only to have that toddler puke on you when you've all sat down with your things.  (Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely because this very thing happened tonight.)

And at times, motherhood feels thankless.  Whether you're a stay-at-home mother or a working mom, in equal measure people will judge you for your decisions and make thoughtless -or even snide- remarks.  You'll feel defensive, sometimes even around your friends and family, because of the choices you make for your children.  

but

Motherhood also smells like clean babies, dried off after a bath and wrapped up in soft, fluffy towels in your lap.

Motherhood sounds like a first "I love you" or a "Mama!" in the night, when only you are able to comfort your scared little one.  It sounds like laughter in the backyard and new, invented words that will be spoken in your family from now on.

Motherhood tastes like Oreo kisses and a glass of red wine because you're not pregnant anymore.

Motherhood looks like family pictures with round, happy faces, Teddy Grahams in your pockets, pacifiers in your purse, and confidence in your eyes.

Motherhood feels like...

Motherhood feels like...

Motherhood feels like this:

You can follow me on Instagram.

it feels like moments of complete, whole, thorough, down-to-your-bones bliss and satisfaction.  Moments of bliss and satisfaction in between the moments of puke. 

And I want to encourage mothers to cut themselves, and each other, some slack.  I thought the whole 'Mommy Wars' thing was a myth, or at least some small thing hyped up and over-dramatized by people who really needed something to talk about (and it probably is, a little bit), but I can tell that we all feel attacked and defensive at times, whether it's because of criticism from other moms who don't parent the way we do, family members, or by people who aren't parents at all.

It gets a bit disgusting, the petty and back-handed way parents and non-parents (so.... people) condescend to or about each other because of things like organic food, breast milk, formula, McDonald's, careers, staying at home, cloth diapers, corporal punishment, disposable diapers, immunizations, daycare, and something called 'sleep training', which is... I'm still not quite sure what, even two kids later.  And it (the delusions of superiority) really goes both ways.  I hope we remember amidst all the decisions we constantly and consciously make for our children that we are also at times unconsciously modeling for them how to treat, speak about and to others who are different from us.  

Peers with kids: I know this is our reality now and I am so glad that we are all -hopefully- trying to make educated and best-possible choices for our children, but let's remember that we aren't the first mothers (parents) on the planet.  We haven't got it all figured out, we're not the ones experiencing this wonderful and terrifying responsibility for the first time, and maybe, just maybe, we all have a chance at being superb mothers (parents), even if we don't all do it the same way.

Stolen Identity

Okay, I'll accept it: pregnancy and childbirth changes a woman.

I always promised myself I'd never be one of those moms; you know, the puffy-haired blonde ones with dark brown roots three inches long and bad haircuts, wearing mom jeans complete with the mommy-pooch of the stomach, looking harried and harassed with dark under-eye circles and a hoarse voice.

I told myself this, but I am realizing that these (we?) women venture out in public looking so for a reason.  It has come to my attention that pregnancy/motherhood has indeed taken its toll on my physique and appearance, and what's more, it is startlingly obvious to others.  I know this namely because of the interactions happening during times when it is required that I present my driver's license for identification purposes.

Here is my driver's license.  (Yes, I added a gratuitous inch to my height when I was 16 and filling out the paperwork.)  I look tan and happy because I've just returned from my Jamaican honeymoon.  I've been told it's a good picture.  So, gathering what I know about this picture (it's good), I can venture to say that I no longer look like this (good) because people literally do not believe that it is me.

When I was coming home from Helen's wedding in October, the man at the airline gate looked at my picture, then at my face, then at my picture (rinse, lather, repeat) for an uncomfortably long time before asking me for additional identification.  I promised him that it was me, but he didn't seem convinced.  I became a little panicky: it seemed like this could rapidly become a situation like one out of a 'stolen identity' movie and in those moments I saw myself battling police, FBI agents, and Russian spies, "I AM Christie Andrews!!"

Granted, I did look like this:

 Eventually, he believed me and I began what would be a much-delayed trip back to Texas.  Since that day, similar situations have occurred.  Today, in Walmart, I was trying to buy a bottle of wine in the self-checkout line when the lady came to check my I.D.  The same dance ensued: she glanced at my photo, took a long, hard look at me, and then, frowning slightly, looked back at my picture.  Repeat, repeat, repeat.  What?!

I mean, alright, I'm a little bit pale.  Night after night of interrupted sleep hasn't done wonders for my skin and I've got a few pounds to lose... and a trip to the hairdresser could be in order, but I AM Christie Andrews!!  Of course, it may have been harder to tell because I wasn't exactly smiling at the law-abiding WalMart employee. 

This is probably a more accurate depiction.  Maybe in some small way I should take it as a compliment?  Maybe parenthood has, in actuality, made me look like a 20 year old, still young and desperate enough to use a fake ID in WalMart to procure a three dollar bottle of merlot...  In any case, I'm willing to keep this new identity, occupational hazards notwithstanding.



 In other news, Christmastime is in full swing in the Andrews home.  In between chores today I'm wrapping gifts (not one of my talents, but I enjoy it all the same.  I like to think my juvenile skills inject some childlike wonder back into the holidays) and watching Love Actually on repeat.  And hanging Knox's new stocking!

Turns out it's not edible.

I haven't forgotten about my practice of simplicity - through some struggles with frustration, impatience, and self-doubt (see paragraphs on mommy jeans above) I'm learning to depend on God's daily provision.  Don't pray to be changed without expecting the opportunities. 

Simplicity has so much to do with joy - the kind that isn't situational.  A focus on this discipline fit so well within the month of giving thanks, and it was additionally enriched by the book One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp, a present from my mother-in-law.  Simplicity and thanksgiving walk hand-in-hand: I'd highly recommend this book, even if you believe you don't have a single speck of beauty in your life.  Or maybe especially then.

Right now I'm thankful for the 16 pound baby sleeping on my left arm and in my lap, though he's making it very difficult to type.  'Til next time...

Simplicity

Um, first let me say that the books I'm reading on simplicity are excellent: I highly recommend them.

Freedom of Simplicity: Finding Harmony in a Complex World by Richard J Foster
Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth by Richard J Foster

Like, they're the kind of books in which highlighting and underlining is useless - you start,and then a few pages later you realized you've 'emphasized' every sentence but one in each paragraph. 

I'll try and simplify (heh) the many thoughts I've gathered from the first few chapters and share them with you.  Please don't read my thoughts as didactic - I'm not trying to preach, but this simplicity thing is complex and a lot of Foster's ideas struck me.  Simplicity as a discipline deals with much more than material objects, but in our society, objects easily become idols and so the author discusses materialism more than once.  (This is good for the girl who has been repeatedly roped into spending more money online to achieve the tantalizing offers of 'free shipping'... it really does seem like a better deal...)

So, here's what I jotted down (by jotted I mean typed into my iPhone's notes) after reading the chapter on simplicity in Celebration and Chapter 1 in Freedom:

1.  Keep first things first -or- Don't put the cart before the horse.  Seeking God has to be the primary endeavor, or else simplicity ceases to be a gift/discipline of the spirit and instead becomes a means to an end, whatever end that might be.  Simplicity isn't a substitute; you can live simply without being godly, but you can't be godly without living simply (not to be confused with asceticism).  The first thing that came to my mind as Foster was drilling this point was that an end result of 'saving money' might drive one to live simply, but then money-fixation is a prison, and true, spiritual simplicity is freeoom.  Of course, if one does live simply one will save money, but saving money can't be the ultimate goal if you're trying to practice simplicity as a discipline.  (Saving money isn't bad, we're even called to be good stewards of all we've been given, but after reading a few chapters I'm already redefining my ideas about stewardship.  Somehow I think I've neglected to consider giving and sharing as an integral part of stewardship.)  Even important, good things like witnessing and yeah, simplicity, can't take the front seat.  To sum up, Foster simply quotes the passage that reads 'Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and then all these other things will be added unto you as well".  Basically, as long as you're putting that first, anything and everything else will be in its proper place.

2.  Acknowledge the disconnect.  While we're on the subject of things being in their proper place, things need  to be in their proper place.  Here's where we get in to the material stuff.  Foster says early in his simplicity chaper in Celebration that 'we really must understand that the lust for affluence in contemporary society is psychotic'.  Woah.  He even uses that word again (in literature we'd deduce that his reiteration of the word was purposeful, like a finger jabbing you repeatedly in the chest) and says, 'It is psychotic because it has completely lost touch with reality'.  Having things isn't wrong, buying things isn't wrong.  Seeking God first will lead you to a place where you can practice simplicity and receive it as a gift from God - you'll begin to buy things on a 'need' basis, with pure motives, considering others.  You'll be 'reorient[ed] ... so that possessions can be genuinely enjoyed without destroying [you]... receiv[ing] the provision of God as a gift that is not [yours] to keep and can be freely shared with others.' 

3.  Simplicity is two-fold.  In Freedom, Foster gets crazy-deep on the reader.  To the point where I was having to re-read sentences.  This is where he began calling simplicity both a gift and a discipline.  Simplicity as a discipline puts you in a place where God can bless you with the gift of simplicity.  (Cue - nod and say 'ahhhhh' with me.)  Simplicity is a freedom - that's the gift.  It's freedom from anxiety and fear when we acknowledge 'what we have we receive as a gift, and what we have is to be cared for by God, and what we have is available to others'.  That's what Foster says, anyway.  In my mind, to be simple (the gift) is to take Paul seriously in Phillipians when he says 'Rejoice in the LORD always, again I say, Rejoice!'  If I'm rejoicing, they're isn't room for legalism, asceticism, or materialism.  To be simple is to understand and daily remember God's truth.  It's not losing sight of our reality in Christ.  When I remember that, I can enjoy what I have and won't be scared to share what I have with others.

So, simplicity has to be an outward practice as well, just as faith (inward) without deeds (outward) is dead.  Of course, we already talked about how the true spiritual discipline of simplicity has to have the seed of inner God-willing.  I realized this as a college student when I was practicing this - in my blog in 2006 (no, you cannot read it, I was a very silly girl at the time) I wrote

In my flawed study of simplicity over the past few weeks, I have learned for myself that true simplicity comes from inner transformation.  I am a competitor at heart, and I think this is why I fail so many times when trying to change myself.  When in the habit of breaking habits, it is impossible to 'win' by merely trying to beat down your desire.  It's less about self-control in an outward manner.  Instead, you must learn to change your desire.

Seeking God will prompt you to ask yourself 'why am I buying this?' before you buy something.  It will prompt you to throw off anything to which you might be a slave.  It will free you from the worried thoughts of, "Do I have enough?  Do I have too much?"  And thus, you are receiving the gift of His peaceful simplicity.

Foster talks a great deal about legalism, and hesitates to offer examples of how one might begin to practice it.  I'm glad he does though, because they're eye-opening and helpful.  (Though I totally get his hesitation - as a CoC girl, where it's my opinion that we struggle with legalism, I jump at the idea of 'instructions'.  Yes, I love rules.  We die by the letter, we live by grace!  I have to keep repeating that to myself.)  Foster gives some challenges (ten) for the simplicity practicer... he hits pretty hard on materialism and addictions.  Alright, I'll stop talking about them and share them with you.

• Buy things for their usefulness rather than their status.
• Reject anything that is producing an addiction in you.
• Develop a habit of giving things away.
• Refuse to be propagandized by the custodians of modern gadgetry.
• Learn to enjoy things without owning them
• Develop a deeper appreciation for the creation.
• Look with a healthy skepticism at all 'buy now, pay later' schemes.
• Obey Jesus' instruction about plain, honest speech.
• Reject anything that breeds the oppression of others.
• Shun anything that distracts you from seeking first the kingdom of God.

I'd love it if anyone would like to share their thoughts and experiences with this subject. It's something I struggle with - let me just say that a few of those 'suggestions' Foster offered hit some sore spots.  I'll continue to share my thoughts as I keep reading and studying, if I can get through Freedom.  He keeps using big words.

And if you're missing my generally more light-hearted posts... don't worry, my next entry might be about poop.

This November

Hello, November, we meet again.  Remember last year when I tried to write a novel during your short thirty days?  I got a few thousand words in when I found out about this guy:

... and thus devoted the rest of the month to morning sickness and its woes.

This year, I attempted to participate in NaNoWriMo again ... but gave up after 1 1/2 days.  (Yes, clever reader, this means I threw in the towel at about noon today.  The second day of November.  I'd even made concessions to myself and decided to write a graphic novel after reading Scott McCloud's Making Comics.  I know, I'm an incredible nerd but he writes FASCINATING books and I bet you'd want to be a comic artist, too, after reading one.)

I'm sick.  I have an infant.  I have no business trying to write a novel right now.  And don't bring up the fact that J.K. Rowling began writing the Harry Potter series in a cafe while she was a poor AND single mother.  (Oh, you weren't going to try and inspire me with that bit of Potter trivia?  Hmm.)

It seems like every time I feel like I'm on solid ground with this whole 'motherhood' thing (and by that I mean I have clean sheets on the bed again, I've got Knox adhering to a quasi-schedule, or I've successfully fixed my hair for school for two days in a row), then I'm suddenly covered in spit up, trying to close a thousand tiny snaps on infant's sleeper suit while said infant is wriggling and flailing his legs like he's trying to win the Tour de France. Bearings = lost. 

Still, I wouldn't trade this new, spit-up saturated world for any other.  Even if it meant lots more time for NaNoWriMo and fixing my hair in the mornings.  In all honesty, I'd probably just use that extra time for sleeping in, or this game I like to call Pinterest Pretend.  It's when I pin things and then pretend like I'm actually going to put those ideas into action.  Come to think of it, I think I saw a pin about that once...

One thing I WILL accomplish this November, though, is to explore the spiritual discipline of simplicity.  No, you didn't accidentally click on a link and land on someone else's blog.  While I was cleaning this past weekend (or whenever it was that I found all those recipes, remember?) I also found some papers that I'd written in college.  In one of them, I had been 'assigned' a spiritual discipline to research and practice, and I ended up with simplicity.  It really impacted me, but I could definitely use a refresher course.  (An item for your consideration: I bought eight pairs of eyeglasses last year from Zennioptical.com because I got a "good deal."  Eight.  Pairs.  It's like the Gaucho Pants Situation of 2006.  You'll understand later.) 

And I feel like November is a wonderful month to do this, because I think simplicity has a good deal to do with being thankful, joyful and content in the Lord.  In our society, I think we feel pressure to 'never be content'.  No, I don't think it - I know it and I see it every day.  I do understand the benefits of this mentality in that we might push ourselves to be the best versions of ourselves, but in the same way I think it can be a dangerous mindset: one that breeds materialism and a life defined by comparison.  If you're interested, I'd love to share how this experiment goes.  Be prepared, you may be challenged as well.  Or at least disgusted as I reveal how much time and money I've spent at Forever21.com.