Someday

The other day I was at the gym working out with a new friend. We were on the step climbers, trying to get our bums to lift up a bit and not sag down in our mommy jeans. I was feeling really good about our workout because we had already done the treadmill and eliptical trainer and were on our third aerobic circuit before hitting the weights. I was definitely all sweaty and smelling and while I could still hold up my end of the conversation, being a little short of breath was making me be a better listener. Seemed like a really productive time at the gym to me. I was feeling all healthy and athletic.

And then the Boot Camp lady with the amazing arms walked up and started pushing my friend's resistance up on her stair climber. Turns out my friend had taken Boot Camp at our gym last year a few times a week and was obviously not working hard enough for the instructor. We, as the perfectionists that we are, starting working out harder, at least until the Boot Camp lady walked away and we were safe to slow down.

I love the idea of Boot Camp at the gym. I would like to do the class one day. Actually I don't ever really want to work out that hard, but I would love to have those arms and abs. I would also like to know that I could do it, that I could survive that class without laying on the ground in the the fetal position in a pool of my own sweat crying to just let me stop. I want the results without all the work. And after talking to my friend, it turns out the work is not just getting into shape and then you are done. No, you have to keep working out that hard and then harder to keep those arms and flat stomach. I like the idea, but not sure I am up for the follow through.

See, I am in a place of maintaining in my life. This started as pure survivalism when I had the kids. I started at the gym because they had two hours of free childcare a day. It was the one place I could go, turn on my own music, read a book and just zone out and walk on the treadmill while someone else entertained my kids. And in the mommy world of self sacrifice, taking care of my body, my health, was one selfish thing I could do that I could justify as benefiting my kids directly. Over time, as my kids got more self sufficient and our schedules got busier, going to the gym became less of a necessity for sanity and more of a desire to get a bit of stress out each week while avoiding having to buy the bigger jeans. But when the necessity was gone the consistency was gone too. And no where was I going to the gym to really work out, to really work hard. I was not about pushing my body too hard, just hard enough to get what I wanted which was a little stress reduction and to tick off the workout portion of my list of things I should be doing. I keep telling myself that when the kids are all in school I will start getting more serious about my workouts, that right now I am just maintaining, doing enough to stay healthy, but not really doing enough to get in shape.

I started thinking more about this idea of maintaining. I am looking through my life and see maintenance as my motivation. Not excellence, not greatness. Maintenance.

I used to be a perfectionist, probably as a response to my people pleasing nature. But I realized that was not going to work for me as a mom. I could not be the perfect mom. I was never going to be able to do it all because I actually need a little thing called sleep. I can be the good enough mom. I can maintain in my life. I keep telling myself - Someday. This applies to the laundry, the clutter piled on my desk, my Trader Joe's frozen dinners, my liberal take on screen time for the kids, as well as my relationship with God. Someday, I will have a working filing system I use every day. Someday, I will cook every meal from scratch and my kids will eat it. Someday, I will spend time every day reading the Bible, spending time studying God's word, in prayer and meditation.

Someday.

Telling a Better Story

So just after I wrote my post about the story not being all about me, I started reading a great book by Donald Miller entitled, "A Million Miles in a Thousand Year". It is hard to explain but my take away from the book is that we each need to be using our lives to tell a better story. I loved this book, it will be my go to gift this season, but it sort of crashed down on my idea that I can relax because The Story is not about me. Because while I still believe this is true, Donald Miller takes this idea further and says that while God is the central part of the story, we still need to be writing a better story with our lives. And not just a better story for ourselves, but a better story for our kids. I love Donald Miller's writing style as well as the thoughts he writes. "Blue Like Jazz" made me feel like I was not all alone in my view of God and the church. If you have not read Donald Miller, I would suggest you pick it up and give it a read.

Prayer: A User's Guide?

So I have been gone for a while. Well not really gone but I have not written in a long, long time. Wish it was because I was busy doing something really exciting and meaningful but alas it was not. I just haven't really thought of anything really interesting to say lately. There have been a few time when I have thought of something to write, but I don't want to get my laptop out in the middle of the night and by the time the sun rises, I have lost all my deep thoughts in the fog of exhaustion that comes from middle of the night insomnia.

I have been thinking about prayer lately, but don't have anything to really write. At least not anything productive. I have sort of a love/hate relationship with prayer. That may not be an accurate description, more that I am confused by prayer. I know we are called to pray both as individuals and as a community, but I am not sure we (me as well as the church) are on the right track. I hate the idea of shopping list prayers, asking God to give us what we want. But on the other hand Matthew 7:7 says, "Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you." The Lord's Prayer asks for our daily bread. I know we are to call out to God, that we are supposed to pray without ceasing. But after all these years of church services, theology classes, Bible study and being in the church, I still don't think I have a good understanding of prayer. So I have sought out some book recommendations from people I think actually get prayer, put in my order with Amazon, and am planning to spend a few months just sitting with prayer. Since I am buying the books I should have some interesting notes in the margins. If I can find something to write with while reading the book. All the sharpened pencils in our house seem to have disappeared and I think the pens are all off having a party somewhere I would never think to look.

So here's hoping I have something to share soon.

Does it Get Easier?

When my boys were little, I hated it when moms with older kids would tell me that it doesn't get any easier. Seriously ladies, your kids are in school 7 hours a day. You have time to go to the gym, eat lunch with friends, work, go to the bathroom in piece, sleep through the night. I was in the land of middle of the night feedings, changing diapers, having to carry one baby while corralling a toddler through the parking lot at Target. It took me a few years to discover the joys of the YMCA childwatch program so I could actually get a few minutes alone, though I did have to exercise. That was how desperate I was for a few minutes to listen to my iPod and read entertainment magazines. Desperate enough to spend 30 minutes sweating on a treadmill or elliptical trainer so I could breathe for a minute. So don't tell me it doesn't get any easier. It had to get easier. My boys would eventually go to school, my lifejacket in stormy seas. And I have to say to all you moms out there who don't think it gets any easier, I respectfully disagree.

Here's the thing. I think the early years of parenting are a lot like childbirth. The second it is over, you forget the pain, the months of swollen ankles and nausea, the hormones and then the actual pain of giving birth to a nine pound baby with a huge head without any pain medications. You see that little baby in your arms, and high on the birth experience, you are ready to do it all over again. I think that is true of the baby years as well. Once my baby turned two, I felt a weight lift a bit. And now that he is almost three, I am starting to see the light at the end of the life providing stage of parenthood. I still have to provide the food, but in a pinch, Little One has proven he can get his own grown up yogurt out of the fridge, take of the lid, grab a spoon and start eating. He can get in and out of his crib (yes he is still in a crib) on his own so on Saturday mornings if his brothers are up he can go down and watch cartoons while his Dad and I pretend we can't hear them and keep sleeping. He doesn't run into the street, can find his own blankies and in a pinch wipe his own bottom. He still very much needs me, but it is less physically exhausting now. And it is less immediate now as well. He can wait patiently. He won't fall off the changing table if I look away for a second. He is going to wake up each morning. He can play with choking hazards. I don't have to be on guard at all times any more. I can take my eyes off the ball for a minute and relax.

But it doesn't get any easier they said. What I am finding is that while it is less physically exhausting, it is still a challenge. Parenting starts becoming much more of a mental challenge. There is no way to know if you are making the "right" decision. It is a much more grey world as they get older. And the really scary part is that at some point, I no longer even get to make the decision. As my boys are getting older, I have less and less control. I am having to let go more as they grow up, heading out into the world for longer parts of their day. When they were babies, I was exhausted because I was always in charge, always in control. And now I am spending a lot of time worrying about their decisions, fretting about how the world will treat them, and praying that God will love and protect them. I am losing control.

So whether or not it gets any easier depends on how much I need to be in control. Honestly at this point in time I am ready to let go of some of the control. I am tired of juggling all the balls and would love to let someone else carry the load. Where to find Mary Poppins?

So for me, the boys getting older does involve more heartache, but I know that God loves them more than me. I know that God a plan for their lives. And I know that God is in control. What great comfort.