I wanted a place to keep track of the sometimes-tedious trivia of homemaking.
Go read the rest at my (maybe boring?) place to keep notes on my homemaking and help keep myself on track: Eight Rooms. My hope is that this will help me save more time and not waste it.
Goodbye, long weekend. You were fun while you were here.
It’s time to blog again. But I’m so sleepy all I can do is write a “what-we-did-this-weekend” summary. Do you mind?
Let’s start with the excitement of Friday night. Leftover steak quesadillas for me, and leftover linguine with chicken thighs for A.J. Then A.J. watched a Life episode (we got them on DVD a few weeks ago.) This particular episode was on insects, so I stayed in the living room and watched Gilmore Girls on my laptop.
Then another night of broken sleep began.
{Christian has been having a lot of trouble sleeping through the night. I’ve successfully eliminated most nighttime feedings. He usually goes 7-8 hours without eating as of the last several nights. But he keeps waking up on his tummy and demanding to be flipped over, or just unable to sleep. I’ve been trying to troubleshoot as much as possible, but these are exhausting days and I feel like I am parenting a newborn. I can’t nap either. Exhaustion, anxiety, struggles. But I love him.}
Saturday morning we went to Panera. Christian woke up when we got there and entertained himself by being held and walked around… and knocking over A.J.’s cup of water, which A.J. thought was hilarious for some reason.
Later in the afternoon we took a walk in the park, watched A.J. play basketball, and went to Publix. I made ground turkey and beans and rice, and our friend came over for awhile. Then we ate ice cream (spoiling ourselves) and watched an episode of Life.
Christian was up for about 2 hours in the wee hours of Sunday morning. Not fun. We had to be greeters at church so we couldn’t exactly lollygag around. But getting up and getting coffee into the system helps a lot. Church was refreshing and afterwards A.J. grilled (cheap) steaks.
We went to a picnic with our small group at the park. Christian fell asleep just in time, and I was able to watch the fireworks! (And kiss my husband in between the hundreds of pictures he was taking, hehe.)
Our friend (the same one mentioned above) had broken down in his car immediately before the fireworks started. So sad! So off we went to pick him up.
Christian woke up at this point and we proceeded to inch through traffic at 10:30 pm. We were right by the beaches so it was very busy. We took a wrong turn at a main intersection and after waiting to go through the same stoplight three times, we made it to our friend and his roommate and headed to their house.
Christian did not appreciate this situation and screamed most of the way there. Poor guy, he has almost never been out that late. I was almost in tears myself viewing his distress, convincing myself that he was starving though he had eaten two hours earlier. When we got home and got him out of his carseat, he was perfectly happy and played with his daddy before we settled him for the night.
Keeping him up till 11:30 pm did the trick, apparently. He slept solidly until 5:00 am, ate quickly, and slept again until 8:00. I got 8 hours of sleep for the first time in weeks, and an unbroken 5 hours for the first time in a very long time. I felt a-m-a-z-i-n-g.
We headed back to Panera later Monday morning, with Christian making friends and also deciding to roar like a little tiger. We had to leave a little sooner than anticipated.
Later that afternoon I was able to have my own coffee break alone with my iPod, Bible, and journal, which was so refreshing.
Then it was bathtime and bedtime for Christian, and A.J. and I ate chicken drumsticks, macaroni and cheese, and sweet potatoes while watching another Life episode (can you guess our hobby? We don’t have a TV so we have been really enjoying watching these). Although this episode was annoying because it was the primates episode and full of talk about evolution. I still loved watching the monkeys though.
Last night Christian was up from about 1:00 to 2:30 because he kept rolling over to his tummy and needing to be flipped back. I think he woke up around 4:00 too. I’m not sure because when he woke to eat at 6:30, I was on the couch. I don’t remember when I went there.
Now he is taking his first nap and I am sitting in a messy-from-the-weekend house trying to recover!
So there you have it, friends. Hope you had great weekends and didn’t suffer too much from this entry.
Also… my baby is going bald. I’ve accepted it. I think.
I thought it would be fun to lighten the mood around here a little with a question-and-answer post. I saw one of these posts on another random blog and it reminded me of mine from a couple years ago.
It’ll work a little differently this time. I’ll respond to each individual question using the threaded reply feature. So come back to this post for my answers.
Go ahead, ask me anything. (Within reason. The requisite disclaimer: I reserve the right to not answer any question at my own discretion, if I deem it inappropriate, yada yada and etc.)
And just to make it more of a community thing, I’m adding a link-up. If you write your own question-and-answer post, you can come back and add your link (please link directly to the post, not to the front page of your blog).
Note: I don’t know how to make the links appear in the actual post instead of in the pop-up window. But if you click the Mister Linky button, you’ll see the linked posts.
Ask away, friends!
I think of the future. Lord willing, it will bring more babies… more bright-eyed, cooing blessings… more sweet cheeks to kiss… more diapers to change… more middle-of-the-night feeding sessions… more brain haze and exhaustion… more challenges to my patience… more delicious baby breath… more heartbreaking smiles…
Oh, this life… the pinnacle of my earthly dreams. Yes, I dreamed of being a missionary, of rescuing orphans and traveling the world, of working with inner-city kids, of coordinating a literacy program, of getting my master’s in English. But most of all, I dreamed of being a wife and a mama.
And here I am, blessed beyond what I could have fathomed. It is a good, good life. We have love and health and freedom, and most of all, salvation. We have hope and dreams for the future.
*~*
But my hands grasp tightly at these blessings and my fears, knuckles turning white as I attempt to gain control and eliminate confusion. The more sleep-deprived and brain-hazy I am, the more out-of-control I feel, and the bleaker the future looks. I must control, I must make a plan and follow it, I must set my mind on attaining outer peace and order. Then I can feel less afraid.
Control is an illusion. I realize that when I think about the cosmic nature of my life, a life hanging on by a mere fragile heartbeat, a life lost in the epic grandeur of millions of planets spinning out into infinity.
*~*
I fall hard, landing not on a soft cushion, but on a sturdy rock that breaks me. The breaking is, of course, painful. Pieces shatter and I grasp frantically, trying to put them back together. A storm breaks above me. Will I ever feel safe?
Nearby is a crevice in the rock, and I creep into it and close my eyes, feel the roughness of the granite on my skin. I am not holding onto, but rather I am being held… not because I decided to be held, either. Confusion and lack of control still haunt me… but it’s only my perspective that makes me feel this way. If I realize the nature of the Rock, I begin to glimpse how safe I really am, no matter how fierce a storm I can dream up for my future.
I look up, rain blinding me, and notice again that it is a shower of blessings. Exhaustion and all.
It’s good to be safe.
*~*
A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord
A wonderful Savior to me
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock
Where rivers of pleasure I see
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock
That shadows a dry, thirsty land
He hideth my life with the depths of His love
And shelters me there with His hand
And shelters me there with His hand
A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord
He taketh my burden away
He holdeth me up, and I shall not be moved
He giveth me strength as my day
I haven’t shared any good links for awhile, so I’m taking this opportunity. Hope you have a beautiful Wednesday.
The Clothesline by Danielle at Dancing by the Light. “Hanging them outside is just another thing to do, an item on the list to be hurried through and crossed off.” I happened to read this post after I wrote yesterday’s, and it was such a gift.
Pizza with My Big Boy by Amy at Lavender *Sparkles*. “So often my focus is on the burdens of motherhood, and I fail to find or choose joy.” I loved her real-life perspective on this little “date” with her son.
Twinsanity by Elizabeth at ElizabethEsther.com. “The twins are 2.5 years old. To celebrate, they decided to dip my hairbrush into the toilet bowl the better to smooth each other’s curls.” Completely hilarious. I forwarded it to A.J.
Why Blog? by Susanna at Mommy, Inc. “But, sometimes I wish I could be the super mom who has a thriving blog, writes a titillating post each day and even makes money from blogging.” Such honest and inspiring thoughts on being a mother and blogging.
Watch That Reading Material by Callie at Through Clouded Glass. “The harmless treat of a sweet little romance story is not worth all the unprofitable ‘junk food’ I have to wade through to get to it.” And she’s talking about “Christian” fiction. I’ve never read another blog entry on this topic, surprisingly.
Enjoy!
What label do you give someone who uses lists and enjoys a tidy and organized life? OCD? Type A? Whatever it is, you can use it on me.
While laziness is one of my besetting sins, so is perfectionism. In order to stay away from laziness, sometimes I overcompensate. I eat the bread of anxious toil. I obsess about the (small, really) number of tasks I need to complete. I categorize activities as work or play, focusing on finishing my work so I can play.
This attitude is simply terrible for my growth as a homemaker.
I am controlling. If everything is not planned or written down, I worry it won’t get done. For example, my garage is unorganized and I frequently and anxiously muse on its disarray and try to make plans for when I will clean it.
Besides being a control freak, I also idolize “relaxation.” And for me, homemaking does not fall under that category. Reading? Blogging? Surfing the Web? Yes. Watching a movie or television show? Yes. (That at least is rare.) Shopping (also rare) or hanging out with people? Yes. Homemaking? No.
I become so eager to get my work out of the way and my to-do list checked off. That way, I won’t feel anxious and I can “relax.” So either I strive to finish things, fearful of taking a break lest I lapse into procrastination, or I just walk away from work altogether.
A warning bell is beginning to clang in my head – homemaking is not just about work! First, it’s about people. And I think I understand that. Playing with my son is not on my to-do list, although it takes up much of my day. But on the inanimate side of things, homemaking is also about creativity and beauty and the small things I often fail to appreciate… gifts from the Lord like baking, sewing, crocheting, writing letters, or decorating.
Sure, those things can be obsessive too. I can get caught up in things of this world, focused on aesthetics, and forget about being a missionary, sharing the gospel, and advancing the kingdom. But still, I think the creative, simple, and beautiful parts of life can be a viable, God-glorifying aspect of my life as a homemaker.
Am I the only one who struggles with this? How can I find the balance? How can I take a deep breath, loosen my grip, get things done without obsessing, and be more creative and joyful in my home?
125. My hardworking dad who raised me up in the fear of the Lord.
126. My husband being such a tenderhearted father to our son. If I could’ve seen what kind of father he would be, I might’ve proposed the moment I met him. 
127. Three generations at the dinner table.
128. My son, by God’s grace, growing up in a home with married parents.
129. Not being in the hospital this Father’s Day (like I was last year).
130. My husband working to provide so I can stay home with Christian.
131. Monday morning.
132. The Lord’s faithfulness in giving His Word to me through other people.
133. Learning self-control… albeit very slowly.
134. Anxiety, to learn to trust Him.
135. Pain, to learn to seek Him.
136. Phone calls.
137. Beds to make.
138. Yellow cake with chocolate frosting. (We’ve had a lot of cake around here lately.)
139. The ability to communicate with my husband throughout his work day… i.e., not living in the 1950s (although I’d like to for other reasons!).
140. Tributes to dads on Facebook statuses.
141. Fresh mulch in our yard. It looks and smells so good.
142. Quiet down time during Christian’s nap.
143. Hanging out with friends who are moving away.
144. Videos of Christian’s antics.
145. Getting carried away with things to be thankful for.
I love this song. Some of my favorite lines:
My feet already drowned, doing the thing I said I hated
I am clinging to you, never letting go, ’cause I know that you’ll lift me out
I wake up feeling convicted, I know something’s not right, reacquaint my knees with the carpet
Maybe I wouldn’t feel the depression if the anxiety didn’t come first. But a vague feeling of panic grabs me in a chokehold, drawing me into an inevitable (?) pit of darkness.
Mentally, I scramble for reasons. Am I still feeling the effects of my concussion? Is it the lack of sleep, punctuated by blurry middle-of-the-night feedings and diaper changes? Am I being too perfectionistic and controlling with my to-do list and household management? Have I not read my Bible and prayed enough? Is it delayed postpartum depression? Am I stir crazy from being cooped up and isolated in the house all day?
If I can put a label on my feelings, I feel less worried about them. And as my worry subsides, so does my depression. The darkness lifts a little. I can see a light through the fog.
But if none of the labels seem to fit, my panic level rises, along with my despair. Will life ever feel normal? Why am I always subject to these recurring moods of helpless anxiety and hopelessness?
You see, I named my blog Hope Road for a reason. A little-known fact is that I found the name in the liner notes of a tobyMac CD. I was scanning the lyrics looking for a pithy phrase to use as a blog name. Instead, I noticed a street sign in the background of one of the pictures: Hope Road.
It was perfect because I have often struggled with (comparably mild) depression, and especially anxiety. Hope, for me, is an elusive concept.
Oh, but Jesus. There’s nothing flippant or shallow about His answer to my hopelessness. There’s nothing formulaic in my desperate admission: I need Him.
When I’m groping through the darkness, He keeps my candle of faith burning. Sometimes flickering. But lit all the same.
The piercing truth of the Word shatters my sinful and broken worldview.
I call myself a victim. He calls me a sinner.
I call myself depressed. He calls me faithless.
I call myself alone. He calls me unbelieving.
I call myself lost. He calls me found forever.
I call myself unwanted. He calls me child.
I call myself the center of the universe. He calls me to Himself.
If I try to come up with my own solution, to package up Truth in a neat little box and hand it to my depressed alter ego, nothing changes. I don’t create my own meaning. Nor can I halfheartedly sift through my knowledge of Scripture to come up with Hope in a Nutshell.
I must engage. Fight. Pray. Cry. Confess. Repent. Trust blindly. Serve. Work. Laugh. Sleep. Rejoice. Mourn. And go on. I can’t stop walking my Hope Road. One thing I know: He won’t lead me astray. Oh, for faith to follow unswervingly.
***
Christian has been teething a lot lately, which puts him a drooly, clingy mood. (Can you be in a drooly mood? When you’re four months old you can.) This morning, for distraction purposes, we took a little walk around the yard and down the street. He was mesmerized by the sky and the trees, but especially by our neighbors’ sprinkler spewing shimmering droplets.
***
Baby milestones are momentous. We celebrate each one. While Sarah was visiting, she was checking her email and I was in the kitchen. Christian was hanging out on the floor next to Sarah. Suddenly she called out, “Did you put him on his stomach? He’s on his tummy now!” That was the first time he rolled from back to tummy. Much cheering ensued.
***
People-watching is a favorite activity. I think Christian inherited this from his daddy and me. He’s very content at Panera, at church, at the airport yesterday – eyes wide, feet kicking, sometimes “talking” to the nearest person. Of course, this can be tiring too, and it feels nice to just lay your head on Daddy’s shoulder and listen to the worship music.
***
Monday morning, Christian decided to go on a nap strike. He only slept for 10 minutes and woke up screaming. He was still awake after playing and eating. I held him in my lap while I talked with Sarah. Then he got fussy, so I stood up, did the baby-sway, and continued talking. It was almost noon and I wondered why he kept leaning forward and resting his face on my hand. He had fallen asleep in an upright position.
***
I read somewhere that babies almost can’t help smiling when someone smiles at them. Christian could be in the crankiest mood, but if I look in his eyes and smile, his huge, gummy grin pops out almost involuntarily. (Then the fussing recommences, but the smile makes for a sweet interlude.)
***
Christian’s excitement is contagious. Whether he’s stoked about his mobile, or his daddy playing with him, or something completely random, he tenses his whole little body. Sometimes he shrieks or “roars.” Sometimes his eyes get big and he kicks and waves his arms with all his might.
***
I love being a comfort. Christian is tired of playing on the floor. He starts to fuss. Within 30 seconds, the fuss becomes importunate. No one will get me. They’re going to leave me here forever. I pick him up and he cuddles down on my shoulder with a deep breath. It sounds like a sigh of relief.
Oh, baby days…
