I am not the first to ask or explore this question. Too many very publicized cases of women popping out babies right and left have caused this thought to linger over the heads of many bewildered, judgemental, and yet ever-curious lookers-on. But is there such a thing, really, as being addicted to becoming a mommy?

Maybe a better question is am I  obsessed with  becoming a mommy? I began to question my sanity after a weekend of the—albeit normal—craziness that comes with having two small children. After cleaning up my third potty-accident, along with a trail of applejuice and four poopy diapers (thank God for tile floors, leather furniture, and Clorox wipes), and restraining myself from  screaming at both my children, I suddenly had this brilliant thought which I unwisely vocalized to my husband. “We should have another one!”

“Ummmmmm……What?!” So he brought me back down into our poop-scented cloud of reality. And then he confronted me with what I had often briefly thought then pushed aside into the recesses of my mind. “I think maybe you are just wanting to be pregnant again. You have to remember what comes after the pregnancy,” he said as he guestured at our own two results.

There were truth in his words. I know there are women who dislike pregnancy, but I am one of those women who love it. I love the kicking inside me, the growing belly, the knowledge that there is a miracle growing inside it. It’s amazing. And everyone pays attention, rubbing the belly, asking questions, smiling. You get to waddle without shame, sit down without excuses, and eat whatever you want whenever you want without being judged.

And then comes childbirth. It’s exciting, you never know when it’s going to happen, and there is something superhuman about pushing that baby out of a space it can’t logically fit through. And again, everyone waits on you hand and foot, takes pictures, and brings gifts and (yay!) more food. Even better, you have great leverage for future arguments with your husband. “Oh yeah, well I gave birth to your baby!”

But what about after all the fanfare dies, the diet must be started, and the baby starts to need things? Well, yes, some would say this is the goal of the whole process. You get a baby out of it. And suddenly that baby gets all the attention, all the food, can poop without shame and you have to wait on them hand and foot. Not so great anymore, huh?

Well not if you put it that way. And if you were to be even more negative and less-Christ minded, you would even say that pregnancy is a ploy to lure women into the slough of motherhood follows. Yes, this is the worst view of procreation possible. And I don’t think it’s true. In fact, our curse as women was childbirth; it has definitely been over-glamourized by the obsession created by those who do have twenty children. But the Bible says that our sorrow and our conception would be multiplied. So maybe the sorrow is not in the conception; it’s in what comes after the conception and the the birth—the child-rearing. The question really is, are these mothers who love pregnancy but dislike motherhood strong enought to woman up and bear the responsibility of what they have brought into the world?

My husband and I have decided to wait for a while before we try for another one though—and I can’t wait until I experience my next pregnancy. But I have to admit to myself that I can wait for the parenting part—the baby that will result deserves the best mommy he or she can get. So I guess I can wait for the whole thing. It comes as a package deal after all. 

“Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children.” Genesis 3:16a

All in all, I feel rather dismal. Maybe because last year had its many challenges and I am just tired. Maybe because I have two very small children who are very active and strong-willed. But then again, maybe my slough of despond is caused by me. I feel like I need to be doing something to improve myself and yet I spent the whole day first day of the year alternating between sitting on the couch in my pajamas with a towel turban on my head and trailing my kids with Clorox wipes ready in hand to catch any one of a range of bodily fluids.

So what needs to be done? I find that making a list often helps me clear my head and my goals. Well, for starters, the most important commitment I need to make this year is to my Lord. Starting out just making it a point to make time for Jesus in each day will improve my life and my relationship with my kids and my husband. This shouldn’t be just  “New Year’s Resolution”; it should be a pattern for the future.

In addition to commiting myself to daily worship and communion, maybe I also need to focus on taking it a day at a time with the whole childrearing thing. I think I sometimes lose focus of the moment in the haze of the future, especially when it comes to discipline and guiding my kids. Maybe I just need to enjoy each moment as it comes because in about twelve years I will have two hungry teenage boys who empty the fridge constantly and don’t want to cuddle and sing “Jesus Loves Me” twenty times in a row.

But I just don’t need to enjoy life, I need to relax. Somebody should definitely warn new mothers about staving off that sense of panic and anxiety that accompanies the arrival of  motherhood for many women.  Of course, I am about the most anxious person I know. If my child runs a fever, my first thought is that it must be menengitis. And while I don’t think all my thoughts are irrational, I also think that I should daily give my children, my home, my husband, and my life back to the Lord because they are His after all.

So, will these commitments to trying to live a worshipful, enjoyed, relaxing life bring about a whole new me? No. Probably not. But, I think that if I try to alter some of my habits and attitudes—not just for this year but for forever—I will be able to look back on each year with fewer regrets. Not a new mommy, but a newer mommy perhaps?

“And he changeth the times and the seasons: he removeth kings, and setteth up kings: he giveth wisdom unto the wise, and knowledge to them that know understanding…” Daniel 2:21

I wanted and I needed change, and so did he. And for that matter, my youngest son needed change too. I spent way too much time trying to alter Hayden’s behavior and too little time paying attention to what was slowly starting to become bad behavior in Elliott. In my frustration, I began to wonder if there was something cognitively wrong with Hayden that was preventing him from comprehending the need to obey. I began to wonder if he was having trouble communicating and thus he was frustrated and acting out. In my desperation, I turned to my dear friend, a mother of four young children, for any suggestions on where I might alter my approach with Hayden.

Her insights amazed me and opened my eyes. She suggested that perhaps I was getting frustrated with Hayden and that he was picking up on it. She said that remaining calm and not angry, making sure that she did not convey her frustration while disciplining had revolutionized her own parenting experience. She said she had realized that using phrases like “You are driving me crazy!” or “You are being so bad today!” simply berated her children. Instead, she emphasized their disobedience, swiftly disciplined, quickly restored them and moved on.

Not only did I realize that I did often act like my son’s poor behavior was an inconvenience instead of an opportunity to shape him and instruct him, I also realized that sometimes the aspects of a strong-willed child’s personalities are things that we as parents try to “beat” out of them. Resilience, determination, strength, and independence can come out as kicking, screaming, running away, and hitting in a small child who does not know a better way to channel those good (and important) qualities. It is our job as parents to recongnize these qualities and lead them in a different direction while strengthening their good personality traits.

This realization made me completely change the way I approach Hayden. I have changed my tone of voice, the words I use, and how often I compliment him. Instead of speaking angry words, I speak to him with happiness, realizing that he is such a strong, independent, smart little boy that he has loads of potential. Instead of anger I make sure I tell him when he is doing the right thing, and that I make sure he knows he is my precious little boy.

In the midst of this lesson, I have seen a huge change in him too. He is a happier little boy. And I am truly able to distingusih the areas in which he is really rebelling from those in which he is simply curious or over stimulated. So I guess we are both happier people as I make work on bringing a smiling face and loving words into our relationship more often.

“The aged women likewise, that they be in behaviour as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things;  That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children…” Titus 2:3-4

First of all, I always seem to have some kind of excuse as to why I haven’t made the effort to create some kind of holiday pattern. The first holiday season we were married, I was in the first trimester of my first pregnancy and puking every other minute. The second Christmas, I had a five month old and we were buying a new house—we moved in the day before Christmas eve, thus we had no Christmas tree. The third year—last year—I was three days from popping out another baby and in no mood to try to put on a big production. This year, I have no excuses. None. No puking, no moving, no contractions.

Aside from excuses, Luis and I also have poor points of reference when it comes to Christmas traditions. Both of us had unpredictable childhoods, which are not conducive to making traditional memories. Coming from this unstability makes me want to make sure my children have some stability; knowing that fun, exciting things are going to happen at the same time every year I think contributes to a child’s sense of foundation. Since most traditions seem to center around memories, and I have few, where do I start?

Maybe the best place to begin is where traditions feel natural and not forced. You can’t hang Christmas stockings above a fireplace when you don’t have one, but a doorknob is just as good. And while a two-year-old doesn’t understand anticipation, an advent calendar might help. And not everything must be done as everybody else does them. What one family does, ours may not.

Traditions also don’t have to be expensive; hot chocolate and a Frank Sinatra CD cost almost nothing. Candles that smell like apples and cinnamon not only make the house smell great, my children may remember the smell forever; and whenever they do smell that scent, they will hopefully associate it with the wonders, lights, and beauty of a family tradition.

Perhaps the most important part of establishing traditions is to include the Lord in them. Just like daily family devotions should be the cornerstone of a family’s schedule, God should be at the center of each holiday. Thanksgiving should give a chance for just that-p–giving thanks to God for His mercy and grace. Christmas should be a clear glorification of God’s arrival on earth in His bodily form. Prayer, reading of scripture, singing praise to Him should all be parts to include in our traditions.

As I think about what to include in my own family traditions—the Lord being at the top of the list—I must not forget to put God first in every day, not just the exciting, fun ones.

A few weeks ago, I took the kids to visit their dear “Aunt” Sue with their “Auntie” Ryan—two of my best friends, in Tennessee. The trip was fun and surprisingly relaxing, but in the midst of the week, I noticed that Hayden was suddenly very interested in keeping everybody together. Maybe he was adjusting to being away from home and daddy, or maybe he was scared we had “lost” daddy and he was preventing another such loss.  Suddenly he was the little herder, making sure that not one was left behind.

“Mom, where’s Elliott?” was his frantic inquiry if his brother was out of his sight for a moment. “Get Elliott, Mom!!” The funniest incident happened at Cracker Barrel on the way home. We had stopped for lunch, and while Ryan lingered inside for a moment, I took the kids to the car. I buckled them in and decided to drive to the front door to pick her up. But before we could get there, Hayden was hysterical. “WYAN!! WYAN!! WHERE’S WYAN??!!” I tried to explain that she was coming, but he would not be pacified until she was in the car buckling herself in. He smiled contentedly and sighed, as if all the world’s problems had been solved.

Since we have returned from our trip, this phase has only intensified. Of course, I also now frequently hear, “No, Elliott. Stop! Don’t Elliott!” as my older son tries to control what his little brother gets into whether it is harmful or not. This morning as Hayden wailed on the way to the car without his brother (who was with Daddy and would join us momentarily) I wondered aloud, “Why can’t you mind yourself and just worry about getting into your car seat?” 

I have heard that this is a common problem among first-born children (like myself) who feel that they know best and must keep track of all the goingons around them whether or not is their business. In fact, I would wager a guess that most notorious gossips are probably first born children. We have a need to be in control and we feel left out if we do not know everything there is to know about the people in our lives. And unfortunately we often project unwanted, unasked-for advice and opinions into their lives.

I have heard gossip many times that was poorly disguised under the claim that the gossiper was “just trying to help” the gossipee. Even recently I have found myself biting my tongue as I strained against the impulse to tell someone exactly what I thought of someone else’s activities, or tried to tell someone what I thought of their own actions.

I cannot argue that the Bible instructs us to lovingly confront issues with other believers; but there must be some kind of biblical reasoning behind our confrontation, and there must not be involvement of other believers outside of those who are directly involved. Even more sobering is the fact that we should not get involved between God’s chastisment of another believer and that believer. Some things are just the Lord’s to handle and none of our business.

“For I fear, lest, when I come, I shall not find you such as I would, and that I shall be found unto you such as ye would not: lest there be debates, envyings, wraths, strifes, backbitings, whisperings, swellings, tumults:” 2 Corinthians 12:20

 Why, I ask, do I torture myself so? Perhaps because my decisions now impact more people than just me. My husband is affected, not only as a standerby but also as a cohort in decision making. And my children are helpless in every matter. I think that perhaps some of my obsessiveness about always making the right decisions—and kicking myself if a decision turns out to be faulty or even less than perfect—comes from my own childhood when my very existence was affected by poor decision making on the part of the adults in my life. I never want my children to suffer because of something I did. And I never want them—or me and my husband—to miss out on the will and blessings of God.

How can I avoid this self-degredation when everything around me affirms that I am in the will of God? And even when I have maybe missed His will,  how can I convince myself that He still loves me and is merciful in the midst of my humanity? I have discovered the solution in a simple piece of advice given to me by a wise friend: whenever I have these doubts or begin to berate myself simply cast the attention back in God’s direction by thanking Him for three blessings. A cozy house on a wintry day, the voices of two healthy children playing, the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

Anything around me can light up God’s abundant blessings, casting into the shadows the dependancy I have on myself to make perfect decisions. I shouldn’t leave it up to myself to guide myself through life. If I do, I will stumble into obstacles and wander off the path of God’s will. If I have prayed for the Lord’s will and asked for His guidance, I should not doubt that He will provide it. And living in the shelter of His direction is the most confident place to find an abundance of blessings.

“They shall not hunger nor thirst; neither shall the heat nor sun smite them: for he that hath mercy on them shall lead them, even by the springs of water shall he guide them. ” Isaiah 49:10

At times, I have been compared to this dear friend in this (and other) respects. In fact, she is very similar to what I imagine I might become in forty years without some sort of intervention. At this moment, I have only started and not continued one project (although this blog might be the second if I am not careful). And at this moment, I am seriously considering another long-term undertaking that will require me to persist if I am to be successful and not wasteful of time and resources. It is something I have wanted to do for a long time, and could be very lucrative if I pursue it to the fullest extent.

If only I could learn a lesson from my children. They know exactly what they want, and often nothing, not even extensive discipline, will stand in the way of them getting the desired fruit snacks, apple juice, stuffed bear, or bop-bop that they want. They kick, they scream, they yell, pinch and bite. Not that any of these behaviors are right or socially acceptable, but how often do I really want something bad enough to really push for it? How often am I just too tired or just plain lazy?

Now I could use the excuse that I am a mom and that I don’t have the time to do anything more than wake up, stumble out of bed and into my day until I am able to stumble back to bed to sleep? I need to take a page from the Proverbs 31 woman’s book. She does more than just the necessary tasks. She is an entreprenuer. She is a bargain shopper. She is a master negotiator. And I think she does this for more than just her own gratification. She does it for the honor and glory of her God.

I think I am going to pursue this next project. And I think I am going to do my best to pursue it to the end. Not to prove to my husband that I am not like my friend, but simply for my Lord, to use the talents and desires He has given me.

“She maketh fine linen, and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant. Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.” Proverbs 31:24-25

Consistency, consistency, consistency. This is the mantra of mommies. And for someone who gets very bored very quickly doing the same thing over and over (like me), being consistent is not a fun idea. Whatever happened to the days of spontaneity, of frolicking in the knowledge that you could do whatever you wanted whenever without raising your voice or taking a trip to the restroom in the mall for a “discussion” (a.k.a. paddles out, people!) ?

This need for consistency requires that I abandon all thought of doing anything other than the routine of life without extensive adjustments for discipline and aprehension about the execution of said discipline. Unfortunately, I must take into account that the general public does not generally agree with my approach to parenthood. Thus, tending to a wayward child in the middle of the Target raises a dilemma. Do I leave and address the behavior in the car? This tactic loses the immediacy of the moment, but the alternatives of a) rushing screaming hellion to the bathroom or b) ignoring screaming hellion or c) pacifing aforementioned hellion are all imperfect—choice “c” is unthinkable.

So how does the parent in search of godly consistency in their parenting techniques maintain constancy in a real world that requires trips to Target?  When asked this very question, someone I know just said, “You can’t go anywhere. You just have to stay home. We didn’t go out to eat with the kids until they were four.” What?! What do you do with yourself? And what does that tell your children about the control they wield over Mommy and Daddy’s everyday lives? The hair on the back of my neck stand up straight as I imagine being penned up in my house for four years as I patiently wait for my kids to suddenly turn the corner of reformation.

Thus, my options are laid out for me (one of them NOT being that I can return the children and go back to my old way of life). As there is a no-return policy on these kids, I can either stay at home and be consistent in my consistently boring four walls, or I can take the challenge and seek consistency in the adventures I can most certainly find in Target, Red Lobster and the mall. It may not be any fun at all, but I will at least get the shopping done. 

“Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6 

This is not how I feel all the time, of course. I have many joy-filled moments with my babies and I am truly thankful to have the privelege of parenthood. But I have days in which no matter how hard I try to do all the right things, I still lose my patience, I panic, I sweat the small stuff. I want to be the perfect mommy, but I also want to run out the door. I want to go back to the days when there were no whining voices clamoring for something to drink, no little hands yanking on my pant leg.

Is it okay to feel these things? Even more intriguing, is it okay to express them? I think sometimes we mommies try so hard to be brave and put up a solid front we forget that we are still human. And then what happens when these feelings of frustration are stuffed down inside and ignored over and over again? Are we truly happy or are we just falsely convincing ourselves we are happy?

I think part of my problem may be that I need to differentiate between happiness and joy. Happiness is a feeling and joy is a decision. Kind of like the difference between love and lust. I may not always feel happy but I can choose to have a constant underlying joy in my life. But where can I find a constant supply of joy?

I am reminded that I cannot suceed as a wife and mother on my own. I can only be the mommy God wants me to be by relying on Him to work through me. I don’t even know where to start half the time, let alone get to my ultimate goal of having well-behaved children who love the Lord, respect their parents, take responsibility for their actions,  and have compassion for those around them. I lose my patience constantly, but God never loses his patience with me.  And better yet, He is still working on the project that is me. I am not set in stone; I am constantly moldable in His hands as long as I allow Him to mold me. The moment I freeze up in frustration, though, is the moment that I will have to be broken and crushed back into something He can work with.

I’m glad God’s so patient with me. Now if only I can hurry up and learn the same kind of patience.

“But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand. ” Isaiah 64:8

My issues with the imperfections in my life don’t stop with the small things. I wish my house were bigger. I wish there were no cracked tiles on my floor. I wish our yard was bigger and not bordering a fifteen-foot-deep creek bed so my children could skip happily through the dandelions without me fearing they will plunge over the short fence and into oblivion. I wish we were debt free. I wish my husband did not have diabetes. I wish I could stay at home and not have to work.

But alas, the cracked tiles, the small yard, the debt and the diabetes are a very real part of our family life. I cannot avoid them. They stare me in the face every time I walk across the living room, look at the contents (or lack thereof) of our bank account, or watch my husband take his insulin before every meal. And I must cringe, admitting jealousy of those families who do not face the same challenges and seem to have “bigger” blessings in their lives. Bigger homes, less debt, and better health.

Three years ago, we were newly-married,  living in the bug-infested, falling-apart double-wide trailer we called home. It sat in the middle of an isolated five acres of sand and two-foot-high grass. The thought of buying our own home with (gasp!) level floors and no fire ants infesting the master bedroom closet seemed like a dream that would never come true. If only we could move into something better. Something with a yard, I didn’t care what size. A home where I wouldn’t have to worry about the tub falling through the floor if you filled it with too much water. Our credit cards were maxed out, and we had two car payments. Worst of all, my husband’s Type 1 diabetes had been incorrectly diagnosed as Type 2, and he lived every day in unknowing danger of death.

So here I am today, sitting in my own house. It has a level floor. And a yard, itsy bitsy as it may be. And I take baths fearlessly several times a month. My husband’s health is under control, and we are slowly chipping away at our debt. And I am still discontent. So what’s to say that it’s really all that green on the next pasture I am aiming to reach?

There will always be something that irks me. Always something that gets on my nerves. There will always be crumbs, and unmowed grass. And even when the crumbs are vacuumed and the grass mowed, there will always be something to distract me from the wonderful blessings I do have.

I must remember that the moment I have right now is the one to enjoy. Not what I can or could or would have. Because this moment is the only one we are guaranteed. If I waste all the moments away wanting the next thing in life, what will I have lived for? Certainly not my Lord. I can’t take the home or the yard or (praise the Lord!) the debt or disease with me when I go. I can only take these children, this husband, these friends with me. I can only hope I am doing everything in my power to concentrate on my relationships with them and with my God.

“Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.” Hebrews 13:5