Weekend dump...

It warmed my heart to find this chalky message written by Sennika on the back patio.  AMEN!

We had a pretty quiet weekend.  Friday night we watched "Robinhood for movie night."  After the kids went to bed we had a double date with some games and treats with some friends over.  Saturday a storm was headed our way, so Mark was able to get the lawn mowed and some branches from trimming taken to the green waste.  Then it rained from about 11 until bedtime.  With the heavy rain, it wasn't very inviting to go any where and outside activities weren't an option either.  Between my commitment for the temple, we got caught up on Mommy's and Daddy's clubs we had missed because of unusual schedules the past few weeks.  Mark took Gavin with him to the green waste.  Sennika wanted to go look at baby girl clothes with me.  Gavin and I went to the print shop then grabbed some slurpies.  I love the one-on-one time with the kids and they bask in it too.

Sennika helping Dad make personal pizzas for lunch.

Yesterday felt like an off-day for being the Sabbath.  Sundays are normally connecting time for us as a family and a glorious day of rest from my normal cares, worries, and routines.  As I have pondered on what elements of yesterday were toss and which were keep, here are a few things I observed or realized and will gladly choose NOT to relive.  Mark and I discussed that because of morning commitments neither one of us really connected with the kids before church.  We were busy preparing for church and fulfilling commitments that the most interaction they had with us was our encouragement for them to get ready.  I have gotten to know myself well enough that when I schedule myself a million miles an hour, I am more likely to go downhill in my ability to give and parent at my peak.  On any other day of the week, I make sure to snag at least 15 minutes of "quiet time" for the kids so I can sneak in some self care time.  This time after lunch gears me up to be able to face the rest of the afternoon and evening refreshed.  Sunday is the only day I don't do that for myself and by the time church starts at 1:45, the kids and I both are beginning to be a bit droopy. Quiet time refreshes all of us.  

Playing taco with Dad.

Another huge realization I unearthed goes with the observation that most of the time I am more and more consistently the new person.  There are still times that my knee-jerk reaction is to go back to old ways and as I have watched for patterns, it is the areas I still tend towards shame.  The subtle difference I have learned isn't so much about being perfect as it is about not staying in old ways.  When I find myself headed down a familiar path, the difference is that it is no longer comfortable and that I don't have to go very far to experience the discomfort.  It has been miraculous to watch that process become shorter and shorter.  I look forward to the coming day that I will catch it at the very thought and be able to make the conscious decision at that moment without fail.

Shipton swinging

When it comes to parenting, Sacrament meeting on Sundays is one of the few times I am most likely to tend to mom guilt and shame.  DUH, I know, but it was a big deal to put that together last night.  In the past I parented in stern, disconnected, and dictator-like ways simply because someone was watching me.  I wanted them to know that I was taking care of it---that I wanted them to know that I knew that my child's behavior "wasn't appropriate." I don't know about you, but when I have a shame response, I become cloudy in my mind and can find myself interacting in ways or saying things I wouldn't otherwise do or say.  I am grateful for the ways that God has invited me and supported me to cut through the shame.  In removing it from most areas of my life and learning to be aware of myself both in areas that would set me up for shame and in times when I feel myself going into a shame response, just by itself that has helped me become a different person. It can be easy to feel self-conscious during church.  Again, it isn't usually my first response any more, but there have been times I have watched other families with all of their kids sitting in the pew...scrubbed clean and dressed to the hilt, sitting without making a peep or needing any interaction/distraction/entertainment for the entire meeting.  In the past, I have looked back at my own pew wondering what my problem is and why I can't just get it together.  I see the cheerios spilling all over mixed with crayons, toys, and coloring sheets or whatever I have resorted to in order to keep the peace...then up to the little bodies creating the mess...thankful that they are all at least dressed thinking back to what a battle it can be and observing that because we want them to learn to dress themselves they may have more mis- than matched.  These four little ones have yet to make it through an entire Sacrament sitting quietly with their arms folded.  Then as I glance back and forth between "the ideal" and my reality, the conclusion that follows is something along the lines of "...THEREFORE I am failing or not doing enough or good enough."  I have learned that isn't fair to do and the source of these lies rolling around my head isn't from that filled with light.  The funny thing is that I have learned later that sometimes I have even been the "poster perfect family" that others have looked down the pew at.  (It must have been a really, really, really good day).  There is no comparison that will leave me feeling unhallowed.  I am learning to be as kind, generous, and withholding judgement for myself as I am for others.  As I look at the young mom with the above situation that isn't what I see when I look at her.  I see a young family who is made it through the battles to get there---one who is bringing their family even when it is hard.  I admire her patience and soak up the joyful noise.  Their small voices don't bother me.  I love listening to the happy phrases as she plays.  Her crying baby makes me smile.    So why assume that something is wrong with me and we should just stay home so we stop annoying the ward?

Shipton playing

Sometimes I tend to shame because I realize we have parented our kids differently than we were parented.  All of my kids know they have a voice and use it.  If, for example, Shipton is angry, he will stand up and express it (AKA scream).  As odd as that may sound to some people, we are so happy about that.  Mark and I both have focused our efforts to raise children tuned in with their emotions--- to know what they are feeling and to have the confidence in their safety to express them.  We are learning to respond differently than we were parented and we parented in the past...to recognize the call for love in whatever form that may take.  Yesterday that came as Leland hitting me in the face and throwing board books.  Yes, we are trying to now work from the other end and teach them that there are certain times and places it is best to express that anger quietly if at all possible.:)  BUT we will do our best to make it clear that it is safe and acceptable to be angry or whatever they may be experiencing.  Then there is also the potential for shame as something like that does unfold and being out of our normal space with our normal resources to curb or respond to difficult circumstances, it feels like a million eyes are on me, watching how I will respond.  I wish I could say I was 100% patient yesterday.  Getting slapped was getting old quickly.  He was testing boundaries and looking for my reaction and so I was seeking the middle ground of not reacting, but being firm in boundaries.  Ultimately, we ended up in the Mother's room in the rocking chair.  As I held him tight, his little fists relaxed.  As we rocked in silence, I caught someone mentioning Sennika had gotten up to bear her testimony.  It was a tender moment to help dispel the shame that I had allowed to sneak in.  All isn't lost.  It isn't all or nothing.  The good news is that the next moment is a new one...PLUS we will have lots of practice because next week because it is Stake Conference (that means we will get to do it again, but for TWO hours this time). :)  All of these thoughts from jus a few minutes' experience.  The amazing thing is we are learning to look at it and own our stuff to avoid projecting it onto our kids.

Playing soccer

I wonder sometimes if my telling it how it is has deterred potential birth families from reaching out, but I know our birth family will be drawn to our honesty and authenticity.  We have nothing to hide and truly, to those who earn the privilege, we are an open book.  We don't want to live our lives perpetuating "the mask" any more.  We have learned that life is too short to waste our energy on keeping up with appearances or trying to control whether people like us or not. :)

More soccer

The only other thing to mention about yesterday is we have a complete 180 after church.  We came home to a nice crock pot dinner courtesy of Daddy's cooking.  After our much more connecting time around the table, Mark went to a choir practice while the kids and I went for a LONG walk.  It was great to burn off some of the energy that seemed to have been pent up from  Saturday being rainy.  We opted for a spontaneous game of soccer.  I had the unfair disadvantage of being my only team-mate and guarding my goal while also pushing Shipton in the swing.  :)  It cracked me up when my hero arrived.  Mark had come home unnoticed, changed out of his suit, and came running out of the back door in shorts and a t-shirt.  The kids went wild and the look on his face was so hilarious.  After the long walk, plus the excitement of soccer, the kids were all ready for bed.