I  used to think it’s not a big deal if you see a dad holding his child. People would compliment Peter and say he’s a good dad for holding the boys. I would shake my head at these compliments. Overtime I’ve learned some children don’t even have memories of being held by their dad. Our culture has taught men to not be affectionate, because it’s a sign of weakness. Children don’t need a tough dad, they need a kind compassionate dad who gets down at their level wipes her tears, talk to them calmly when they are losing their own control. They need a dad who reads to them, can be silly with them, who doesn’t rule over them, but gently guides. They need a dad who holds them. 

Ephesians 6:4 “Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.”

At the end of the day it’s about being intentional with our children. Whether we work or stay at home with them. The value of a stay at home parent is no less or greater then the one who goes to work.

When  we step into the mindset of comparison we take away the value both sides deserve. The reality is, both work hard. There are easy days and hard days. Both equally important. One side is saving the other side making. The investment looks different but adding quality to your lives. 

The days don’t end until the kids are asleep. When the working parent comes home their day is not over. There are still chores to be done, relationships to connect with. This is the same reality with the stay at home parent. The stay at home parent does all the behind scenes keeping the house intact and cultivates the environment for the family.

For our family finding the balance of Peter not overworking and our family still being provided for is our goal. Finding breathing space where we are all connecting and having time to reset is really important for how we want our children raised. It starts with recognizing each others jobs as both important and then staying engaged throughout the day even on the days we are exhausted. Parenting is hard, and exhausting, and we only get to do is once as a team.

Holidays are meant for family traditions and not to be filled with chaos or obligations. 

I love holidays! Valentine’s Day, st. Patrick’s, Easter, Mother’s and Father’s Day, Independence Day, Birthdays, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas! 

As Peter and I became our own little family holidays were just in passing. Growing up my family went big for them and we got to see our cousins almost every month on my dad’s side. The house was decorated, we’d always get treats, have a feast, and even dress up for some of them! 

After we had Jason I was excited to give him those kind of memories too. We don’t go as big but I create them in ways I hope they remember. We decorate the house, special treats and activities are always involved, and they are simple. 

I’ve learned I’m not the kind of mom who wants to travel, go big, drag my kids to events, cook and bake big feasts. I want the holidays we celebrate with our children to be fun for all of us and not leaving Peter and me burnt out. This means protecting my peace too. I ask myself who, how, and when and what will be the most smooth way to celebrate and make the day special. For example for Easter because it lands on a Sunday we celebrate on a Saturday spreading out the activities and not feeling like it should all crammed and rushed after church. There aren’t any rules on how you celebrate holidays. Only the rules you set! Society may say different but society isn’t in charge of your wallet, your personal beliefs, your children or your peace, you are. We decide under no obligations. That in itself is freeing.

Build Don’t Break

I’ve been intentionally looking for things that bring me joy outside of motherhood. 

There was a time where I felt like I was losing myself and the interest things I loved.

My  life was take care of the babies, then crawl into bed at night, every night. In that time I wondered how long I was gonna be in that season. Because it’s different for every mom.

Now that we are getting up only 2 to 4 times a night and not five times or more I’ve been able to have the energy to pour back into myself.

I’m slowly moving in an imperfect direction of gaining those things back. 

I’m intentionally looking for the open time I do have. The open time is smaller due to my new season but it is still there. When Peter gives the kids a bath and after I’m done with night cleanup and daily chores are caught up on. I have about 20- 45 minute window to take that time to pour into myself. If chores fill up that time I still have after the kids go to bed. That is an hour of time I have intentionally chosen to pour into myself in a way that doesn’t reflect my roles as wife and mom. I’m blogging again, picking up my Bible, and strumming my guitar. It’s all in spurts but they bring me joy. 

I’m still me, just mom me. 

From the very beginning of the first tears of yearning for our child. 

To tears of joy when you first meet them.

When wiping their tears of sadness or hurt.

When wiping their noses from colds. 

When cleaning vomit from spit ups or sick days. 

When the potty training begins.

When their wounds need mending.

Their Puddle jumps of play. 

Summer cool off fun. 

The sweat from your day to day activities. 

The pouring of coffee or water refills. 

Absorbing all the spills with towels. 

The splash of water on the dishes.

The water from when we are cleaning our littles in playful bubble baths. 

Motherhood is wet. 

Our goal for food is to help our children have a healthy relationship enjoying the connection it can bring and not feel guilty or controlled by it. 

In our home we use words like “fun food”and “growing food”. Changing the language teaches them that food is not bad and they should not feel bad for eating.

The fun food is things like cookies, cupcakes, cake, and candy. These show up at holidays, events and at friends home. We follow the same principle with juice. We allow our children to have these things even if there is dye in them because we do not want them to be such a forbidden fruit that they will be craving it more, and feel the need to either hide, or feel guilty if they have anything that is a fun treat. 

Fun treats is not something anyone should feel guilty for having. 

Then there is growing food. Which what we cook and bake in our home.

Including them in as much as we can has been helpful too. Having them involved in grocery shopping and cooking lets them be apart of the whole experience. 

When we go grocery shopping I give them jobs. They put things in the cart, help look for food that’s on the list, help unload, sometimes scan, and they have been loving using the chip reader at check out. We then unload at home excited for all the food we bought both fun, and growing. 

When we cook or bake they love gathering what we need, pouring, mixing, and working all the buttons on the cooking appliances. They love trying out the final product. 

Another thing we encourage is them telling us when they are full. Some days it can be five bites of their food other days they finish the entire thing. I want them to learn at an early age to listen to their body. When we run into the situation when they take one bite of their meal and then ask for a fun food, we count five more bites. Or when they choose to not have dinner we tell them to come join us and they can chat with us and have bread but can’t have a fun snack before bed unless they do a try it bite of their dinner. In our home dinner is not just about meal it is about connection. 

With doing all this the boys love soups, hot dishes, pastas, and other favorite dishes. Our key is connection and involvement. Not a finished plate. 

In a few days I have the privilege to hear the wrapping paper tear and watch my little boys eager hands rip open their Christmas gifts. What a joy and blessing it is to be able to be a mother and have these memories stored in my heart. These memories are my gifts. Time ticks too fast when I look back each year. So I exhale as I wrap and say a prayer thanking God for this moment. 

I am facing a new reality. As I give my children the gift I wasn’t given I’m thankful and long for what they are given. But it’s not temporary. This grief will be forever. I thought it was because they are the ages of my orphanage years but as my son is exiting the age I was in there for, the emotions stay.

They have the freedom to cry, express any and every emotion, deny, be wild, have opinions, make mistakes, they have the freedom to repair with apologizing, any hours of the day and night for as long as they are ours. 

As I grip this new reality I hold it lose in denial. Then day to day grief is heavier the more I push it back instead of allowing myself to process. 

I play back the stage of my life of his age. 

Memories.
This is where my earliest memories lie. I’m adopted at this point experiencing my first Christmas and Easter. Saying my first words. 

 

In todays emotions of my child being disappointed in the color bowl I was filled with a sense of grief. I’m able to recognize my irritation as masking my grief now as my children grow up I’ve noticed I’m not mad at them I’m longing. 

Now that I’m accepting the grief for what it is this gives me freedom as well. 

Freedom to give it to God. Freedom to be thankful and grieve over and over and over with each stage motherhood brings me. 

For those who know our boys know they love sharks, trucks, tools, wrestling, digging, climbing, and play hard. But we also embrace them learning about their world. 

We are a non gender specific home.

Immediately I know I am getting some emotions and reactions to that specific quote. Because somewhere in society boys and girls are told wether it was appropriate to play with specific toys because of their gender.

My boys also have a doll, pretend food, and a doll house. They even cook and bake with me. We live in a world of babies and homes which they may learn to take care of down the road and these are not gender specific. 

When we take away doll houses dolls and pretend cooking stuff we take away life lessons boys need to learn.

There was some time where roles such as cleaning, cooking, and taking care of babies was taken away from men and put on women. When in reality it’s just part of being an adult.

We live in a world where dads do not know how to be dads because it was once the women’s roll to take care of the kids and the dads are simply physically there. They would go to work and their day would be done. This was taken from them. 

Thankfully society is in a shift where both parents cook, change diapers, work, play with the children, help them with school, and take them fun places. 

I’m gonna give you a few examples where we would get side glances. I have fun fairy wings and angel wings that my boys go around wearing sometimes.

Boy bugs have wings. Boy birds have wings. So when I put on wings they are not being girly they’re just playing. We are taking away the curiosity of children by labeling things too early.

Wings:

Child: “I want to fly like a bird, or bug.” 

Adult: “Those are pink, or sparkly they can’t wear those.”

Sparkly ring: 

Child: This is shiny and pretty. It looks fun.

Adult: You can’t wear a ring that his a flower cuz it’s girly.

Minnie Mouse show:

Child: Minnie show is fun.

Adult: that’s a girl show. 

This is adult content going into children. When in reality children aren’t complex. They are simply curious about their world.

As I wipe down this house my mind takes a walk down memory lane from when I once constantly wiped it down as a child, to being a teenager longing to have a child someday play with it too. Today I got that privilege. Today I got to watch my son play with something that was once my sanctuary and now his imagination. And I am so thankful because it will never have to be his sanctuary. After everything was wiped and set up he asked where the people were. Because of my early childhood wounds people weren’t in there. They were forbidden in my world. So I took out our little Lego Duplo people for him. My heart was beaming watching my child set the people around the table because my child does not have to carry the wounds I once carried. For this I’m thankful.