Motherhood Is Not For the Faint of Heart

Motherhood is not for wimps.  It is not for sprinters.

You will be required to run a marathon whether or not you feel trained for it.  

I overslept my alarm this morning, which means I woke up to Abby running down the hallway and Pax stirring in his bedroom.  Moments into alertness, I'm changing diapers, pouring cereal, cleaning up messes, and commanding the day.  I like to wake up slowly, even if it means forfeiting precious sleep. There was nothing slow about today.

Pax was testy.  I'd like to say it was because he is teething, but I think we both have to admit at this point that it is just because he is 17 months old.  

He thinks the world should revolve around him still, and he is learning the painful truth that it does not. My old familiar archenemy fatigue was dragging down my pace, and Abby's energy was causing her to run laps around the house in search of an outlet to satisfy her curiosity.

Pax was melting down over everything from the cereal not dancing in front of him to the chairs being too white that he sat in.  

Realizing that I was not going to be able to keep up with them while doing chores, we forfeited all and started working towards leaving the house for a splash park visit.  An hour later, we made it to the car mostly in one piece. It took me 10 minutes and more spankings than we'd like to admit to push Pax into the carseat against his will. 15 teary and tantrum minutes later, Abby and I emerged as war victims from the car, and Pax looked content that he had let us know how frustrated he was in transit.

I let the kids run and play at the splash park until Pax clearly needed to nap.  I loaded them back up into the car with towels bundled on top, and we made another 15 teary and tantrum minutes later back home with Pax and stuck him in bed.  Abby was a trooper and helped me unload the car.  I filled her full of PBJ sandwiches and laid her down for a nap.

Now, in the quiet, I rest for a minute before Pax wakes up and we do the whole thing again.

I frequently have people ask me why I would leave a profitable career to stay at home with my kids. It's not because it is easier.  

It is easier to change diapers when you make $25 an hour to do it.  It's easier to care for a grumpy toddler when you know you get to say goodbye at the end of your shift and leave him.

I do it because of the Gospel.  I believe that Jesus is real and that this world is at war against the Enemy. I believe the most powerful moments of influence we have over our children are in the trenches of motherhood.

I want to invest every moment I have into training my children to love and follow Jesus well because our time on earth is short and the days are evil.  

When my energy is low and I wish I could hide away under my fluffy down comforter, I am teaching Abby and Pax that I treasure them more than sleep when I still get up and serve them to the best of my ability.

When our groceries run low at the end of the month, I teach Abby and Pax to be thankful that God has provided us food by not complaining and demonstrating a thankful heart as we eat bean tortillas or PBJs again.

When Pax pushes me over the edge and I respond in grace, Abby gets to see that being a mother is hard but that God gives grace to the weak and that kids are still valuable even when inconvenient.

Abby tells me she wants to have ninety kids one day.  I smile about it and imagine her running an orphanage with her outgoing personality and boundless energy.  I'm thankful that she sees motherhood as a gift and not a burden.  I hope I get better at demonstrating that.

Moms, none of us are perfect.  Most of us are tired.  Let's remember that serving our families is not worthless or vain.  In fact, everything we do for Jesus' glory, even in the shadows behind closed doors, is important.  Keep running the race.  In the Spirit's power, we can finish well.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:1-2, ESV)

A Nursery Lesson

Pax is a dare devil.  This kid started standing up on things at six months old.  Fast forward to the present, almost nine months of age, Paxman is a rock star.  He resourcefully tests anything that can move and turns it into a push along walker.  For example, if his sissy is dragging a huge basket of toys across our wooden floors, you can bet that Pax will track her down, grab on, jerk himself up, and walk behind her as if he has been doing this all of his life.  Our little guy is dying to be as "big" as Abby.

Learning to walk is his goal from the time he wakes up until the time he crashes these days.

This morning, Pax was actually using his walker to practice walking.  Novel idea, huh?  He was fast tracking back and forth in his bedroom until he tried to push it out the very uneven door opening between his bedroom and the hallway.  Crash!  Somehow, Paxman flipped upside down and landed with his back legs in the air half dangling over his upside down walk behind.

He screamed in anger and in pain.  I picked him up and sat him in my lap to assess the damage.  Any bleeding?  Nope.  Any bruises?  Not yet.  Before I could continue my assessment, Pax had squirmed out of my arms and was squealing in rage at his walker and crawling back towards it in determination to finish the job he had started.  He was going to push that thing through the doorway.

 

Failure was unacceptable.

By the time Pax reached his walk behind, he was no longer growling in frustration, he was squealing with delight.  What had started as a huge disappointment had become an even more fun toy.  With the walker flipped upside down, Pax now had better access to the wheels.  He stood proudly beside them and spinned them with his tiny fingers as fast as he could and giggled.

An instagram of Paxman soaring past me in our bedroom the other day

Failure was forgotten as it unearthed something new.  Something better than he would have thought of on his own without it.

As I'm watching my son in amusement, a light bulb went off in my head.  The same happens to us.  Sometimes, we're going head on with life pursuing our agenda, our goals, our dreams, and everything flips on us unexpectedly.  We end up wounded and frustrated.  We cry out in anger at God for messing up "our plans."  In His goodness and grace, our Father God picks us up, heals our wounds, and feeling comforted, we plunge back forward and begin going again.  As we face our failures in His light, the shame we once felt begins to fade away, and in the wake of our tragedy, we discover something new.  We discover that our failures were actually paving the way for a greater story, a better one than we could have planned ourselves.  We learn that, indeed, all things work out for good for those who love God and who are called according to His purposes.

1 Peter 5:10 

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.


Go forth dear child of God.  Blaze the trail Jesus has placed you on.  Do not fear your failures.  God is bigger than they are.  Be afraid not to live.  Go forth.  Your Father is good.  He is watching and listening.  He will comfort you when you fall then He will set you back on His course again.  You are part of a great story, precious believer.  The greatest story of all time.  Your life may seem like a failure right now as you try to follow after Jesus, but at the end of time, we'll look back in confidence and say that His story was greater than anything we could have planned on our own.  So for now, do not fear.  

 

Go live for Him.

 
Micah 7:7-8 

But as for me, I will look to the LORD; I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me. Rejoice not over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when I sit in darkness, the LORD will be a light to me.

The Beauty of Discovering I Am Not God

This past year has pushed me to realize something very important that I should have figured out by now...

I'm not God.

Laugh.  Go ahead.  You think I'm kidding.  I'm not.

I'm completely serious.

In July of 2011, after months of trying, God allowed us to conceive Pax, and by August, I began to really struggle in the pregnancy.  The vomiting started.  I experienced a migraine that resembled a stroke that landed me in the ER and multiple doctor's offices.  Life went out of control very quickly, and since then, nothing has been the same.

Waiting at the pediatrician's office again this week. Both of the kids have become waiting pros.

Between Pax and me, I have spent countless hours in doctor's offices and in the hospital.  My body still isn't the same,  but after my cholecystectomy six weeks ago,  I am just now getting to a place where I think I will have a "new normal" again.  Five months old today, our little guy has had his share of misery with terrible reflux, and the medications he has been on to control it have only helped minimally.

Finally, It looks like we are having a breakthrough with his treatment in the past day.  I am ecstatic, relieved, hopeful... It couldn't have come at a better time.

This past week I hit a wall.  Burnout.  Ugh.

I had tried to pace myself carefully, but my best efforts weren't enough.  Being a caregiver to a baby who is often irritable and crying has drained me, and for the past week, depression has been visiting and threatening to stay.  If you've ever experienced depression before, you know the fear I feel.  I hate being down, but I think I needed this.  I needed to be slowed down, so I would listen.

Here's what I feel like God is teaching me.

You're not God.  I am.

You're not in control.  I am.

You can't do this by yourself.  You're not God.  I am.

Ouch.

You would think I would realize that by now.

Nothing about me looks strong anymore.

I am just now really beginning to get it.

I can't do life alone.  I can't shoulder the responsibility of raising my kids, being a good wife, or being a somewhat decent friend by myself.

I have to do it in the grace that God gives me, and sometimes, that's through others.

Sure, I know what it is like to have the support, love, and friendship from my family and my Christian community.  We have experienced the abundant kindness of others often, and the past few weeks, I have been intentionally rearranging my life to invite help in more often.  But, until this point, I thought that help was a luxury, and I was wrong.

Asking for help is a need for me... and them.

When I ask for help because I am struggling and life is too heavy for me to bear, I am being humble and admitting to those listening that I am not God.  I am opening myself up to the fact that I am not self sufficient and am indeed human.

Yes, I think we sometimes need to be reminded.  Isn't that what happened in the garden of Eden?  Eve listened to the Serpent (AKA. the Devil) because she wanted to be like God.  She ate the fruit, shared it with her husband, and life has went downhill since.  As humans, we've had a God complex since the beginning.

It's time to end it.

When I give others (referring to the Christian community) the opportunity to help meet my needs, they get the blessing of loving and serving me like Jesus loves and serves them.

Then, my vulnerability and neediness become a beautiful thing as the unbelieving world that is watching gets to see my suffering being eased, and the beauty of Christ is put on display as I get off my pedestal and He gets on it where He belongs. 

Trying to cheer up Little Man Sunday evening
with glider time.

At that moment, this isn't just a Christian friend helping me sweep my floors or someone bouncing a sick baby to give me a break.  This is the Christian Church functioning unselfishly in a raw and beautiful way that screams Jesus is alive.

I know what some of you are thinking.  I like being independent.  I feel safe when I am in control of what I need and how I get it.  If you look up the definition of a Type A control freak, my photo is in the margin.  I am not a good example of this yet.

Being vulnerable is awkward and risky.  

But, right now, I am realizing again (yes, I'm a slow learner) that it is not about me.  This life is about God and His glory.  If in my weakness, the world sees Christ more clearly and He becomes more desirable, it is worth it.  My life isn't about making sure everyone knows how strong or how "together" Anna Cirlot is.  It's about Him.  God's strength.  God's design.  God's sovereignty.  God's glory.

I'm not God.

He is.

This is war.  We have a real Enemy that is more than happy to take us out.  If we harden ourselves in pride, we'll either crumble under the pressure or become too puffed up from "making it" on our own to let Jesus get the spotlight He deserves.

Let's be real.  Let's be vulnerable.  Let's hold each other up.  Let's admit life is messy, and that we need each other.

Let's live in such a way dear friends that the world will know this isn't just another fairy tale.  Jesus is real.

"Let me give you a new command: Love one another.  In the same way I loved you, you love one another.  This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples, when they see the love you have for each other." John 13:34-35

A Day in My Shoes

I hate the awkward conversations that come up because I have chosen to stay at home with my kids.  I either get the question, "Well, what do you do during the day?" as if there really isn't anything to do.  Or, if I am really lucky, I get the remark from the other person, "I'd never be able to stay at home with my kids. I'd get bored."  Either remark draws a blank stare from me.  I'm just not sure how to respond.  All I can think is, "Seriously?  How do I sum up what I do? Bored.  I wish!"  So for all of you who have wanted to ask this question but are too wise to do it, let me just share my day with you as an example of what a stay at home mom does.

One word.

Survive.

No, I'm not being dramatic.

My morning began with a cranky Pax crying at 3:20 a.m.  I squint at my cell phone clock and realize I am an hour and half late on one of the Reglan doses.  I guess I overslept the alarm.  I roll out of bed to watch my 3 month old bubble up baby acid like a geiser.  Nice.  I turn off his Angelcare monitor and pick him up to nurse him and give him his medicine.  Sleepy Pax nurses on one side for what seems like forever before falling back to sleep.  I gently tote him back to his bed on the other side of our room and turn on the angelcare monitor again.  Five minutes later, he rouses up and begins to cry.  I turn off the monitor again, and pick him up to nurse him again.  My head feels like it has been smashed by a train.  Pax falls asleep again and I transfer him to the bed. I pop an ibuprofen to help me deal with the cold that I caught from my sick toddler. I lay down, and Pax wakes up again.  It's 4:30 a.m. now, and I am miserable.  I tap Bryan on his shoulder and beg him to take a turn.  He shuffles out of bed and takes a shift.  He gets Pax to sleep and lays down.  Pax cries again.  We both sigh.  I get up this time and am awake enough to realize that I had forgotten to swaddle Pax as tightly as normal, so I change his diaper and rewrap him into a Pax burrito.  The kid is out in ten minutes and stays down.  I fall asleep sometime after 5.

A couple of hours later, Pax wakes up for good, and I nurse him in the bed with us.  I read my Bible reading plan and devotional on my iphone for a few minutes while burping Pax.  Abby bursts through our bedroom door chattering about Dora or one of her imaginary friends.  My quiet time is over.  I roll out of bed, and since I'm struggling with horrible vertigo (thanks Meneire's!) brought on by the nasty cold I am fighting,  Bryan takes a shift with the kids.  I shower and try to pull myself together for the day.  When I get dressed, Bryan informs me that he has managed to get Abby and Pax both fed and Pax is down for a catnap in his swing.  I take over with the kids, and he showers to begin his day.  I pour a bowl of cereal and eat it while holding a needy Abby in my lap.  We both know that Pax will wake up soon, and I'm trying to give her the one-on-one attention she craves before this opportunity passes.  

Silly Abby

Once Pax wakes up, he is happy for about 3 minutes then begins to fuss and want to nurse again.  I nurse him, and Bryan takes Abby with him to a meeting.  I spend the whole time they are gone trying to settle Pax down.  A couple of outfit changes later for both of us, Pax is still spitting up and crying.

I finally give up on comforting him and put him in his swing.  While he is crying, I try to tidy up the kitchen by unloading and reloading the dishwasher.  It's time for lunch, and I nuke leftover potato soup.  Abby and Bryan are eating while they are out, so it's just up to me to take care of Pax and myself.  I take the hysterical Pax out of the swing and try to calm him down.  I then attempt to feed him his oatmeal and bananas while I eat my soup.  No success.  Pax clamps his mouth shut and spits everything I push in out.  After a few minutes of seeing Pax's wailing and gnashing of teeth (that is the two bottom teeth that are coming in), I give up.  I put him back in his swing and let him cry it out while I finish cleaning up the kitchen.  I look out the window and realize I forgot to feed and water Lottie this morning.  Poor dog.  I feel guilty so I let her in the house.  She flips and flops with excitement and searches the house for dropped toddler snacks.  I'm sure she wasn't disappointed.

About that time, Abby and Bryan return from their meeting.  Bryan and I plan out the rest of the day so our schedules will be synced.  Bryan begins to work in the office.  Abby goes to her playroom for a little while.  Pax wakes up again after only a short catnap.  He's spitting up again and screaming.  I tote him into our bedroom and change his diaper again.  I settle him in his nap nanny with a toy, and he is content for about ten minutes.  I start a load of laundry and try to put finished laundry away.  I only get partially done before Pax is screaming again.  My phone alarm rings.  It's time for Pax's medicine again.  It doesn't seem to help any.  Frustrated, I pick Pax up and tote him with me into the office. I settle him into his bouncer, so I can file away the papers Bryan has finished sorting.  Lottie walks in, licks Pax in the face, and Pax is crying again.  I bounce him with my foot while I finish filing the papers.  Bryan leaves the house for the rest of the day.

Guilty Lottie... look at those guilty eyes.

My patience is gone.  Pax is still screaming, crying, and spitting up everywhere.  He wants to nurse again.  I nurse him, and I give up and put him in his baby carrier.  Yes, I am a human kangaroo.  Content finally.  Pax falls asleep on my chest in the carrier, and I sit down in the recliner exhausted.  I want to take a nap too.  After all, Abby is content.  Pax is content.  I've kicked Lottie outside.  Did I mention that I put Peeperz outside at some point in the midst of all of this too?  I pick up my journal to scribble out my frustrations and to try to focus on the positive.  I write out a quick prayer asking God for grace to finish the day well.

I look at my clock and realize I have to get Abby and Pax into the car if I am going to make it to fax some important paperwork in time.  I load up the kids into the car.  Pax is screaming and crying again because he is out of the baby carrier.  Abby is wearing a white fur trimmed red cape with a Dora backpack stuffed with My Little Ponies, fake food, and a toy lizard.  I look like I just rolled out of bed.  Quite honestly, I just don't care.  I think to myself, "Well, at least I showered."  We make it to fax the paperwork in time, and we pick up dog food at my parents' clinic.  I reload everyone into the car again and realize it is supper time.  We run through McD's to get something to eat since we still have to get a few groceries.  We pull into Walgreens parking lot to eat and I nurse Pax again at the same time to try to calm him down.  He has been screaming since we left Moss Point.  We finish eating then go into Walgreens to get more baby food.  They're out of what I need.  Of course.

I reload the kids in the car.  Pax starts his normal screaming/crying routine again.  I call Bryan to tell him we'll be home late.  No problem though, because he's going to be home late too.  We head to Walmart in Ocean Springs and get out again.  I put Pax in his baby carrier and he goes to sleep.  The poor kid smells like a mix of sweat and spit up from crying so much today.  Abby frolics and dances beside the buggy, and I do my best to keep her from spinning into anyone as I drop items into our basket.  At this point, my curls are sticking up in all directions, and I know I look like one of "those" stay at home moms.  I look sleep deprived and crazy.  Again, I really don't care.  We make it through Walmart, and I reload the kids into the car.   Abby spills the rest of her Happy Meal into the back seat of the car while getting her My Little Ponies to jump from her lap to the seat.  Great.  Pax wakes up but is surprisingly quiet.  Phew... close one.

I pull into the driveway, and Pax starts screaming and crying again.  I get out and get the kids inside.  I bring in the groceries while Pax is still screaming in his carseat.  I go back out and clean up the mess on the back seat.  Pax is still freaking.  I go in to get him out and sneeze and pee all over myself.  TMI I know... gotta love what pregnancy does to your body.  So... I settle Abby and tote the screaming Pax in his carseat into my bathroom so I can take a quick shower.  After showering, I get dressed and finally get Pax out to nurse him, give him his medicine, and feed him his bananas and oatmeal.  Bryan gets home, and I hand him Pax.

I put Abby in the bathtub, wash her hair, and Bryan lets Lottie inside again.  I take Pax back from Bryan, and he takes over bath time duty with Abby.  I make a bath for Pax in the sink and get him clean and swaddled for bed.  Pax begins to cry again, and I nurse him until he falls asleep.  I lay him down in his bed, and go to get Abby out of the tub.  

Pax angry about his bath

Somehow, Abby got Lottie into the tub and now she's wet too.  I go to grab my camera to snap a photo, and Lottie leaps out of the tub and slides down the hallway soaking the floor.  Bryan and I rally our wet puppy up, and dry her off the best we can.  

Lottie right before she charged out of the bathroom

Next, we get Abby out, and I get her dressed, dry her hair, and give her the medicine she needs.  Bryan brings Peeperz inside again.  At this point, I hand off Abby to Bryan, and he reads her a night time story and gets her to bed.  Peeperz in tow, I go and finish putting up the groceries and put up Pax's baby tub.  I pick up the living room and Bryan and I get ready to go to bed and start everything over again the next day. 

So there you go... that's what a day in my shoes looks like... minus the web and graphic design stuff that I usually do too.

I want a shirt that says, "I'm a mom.  What are your super powers?"

I think it'd sell.

Seriously.  Jesus is what gets me through each and every day.  Being a mom has taught me how much I really need Him in every way.

Because I need new mercies for tomorrow, I'm going to bed.

Good night.

White Flag

If you could see me typing writing now, you'd laugh.  Seriously.  I'm one hot mess, and I've got Pax tied to me in his sleepy wrap.  My wild morning curls are what I refer to as happy curls.  They are untamed and reaching for the sky every which way.  I've tried to tie them back into a pieced together bun, but they aren't cooperating.  You get the picture.

I feel like I look like a cross between this...

and maybe this.

I have this crazy vision of having a perfect life.  The kind where you roll out of bed and look Hollywood goodness.  Ready to go for the day.  The kind where all of your kids sleep through the night and wake up in harmony the next morning.  The kind where you can kiss your spouse upon waking up and not taste a hint of morning breath.  That kind of life.

That's not my life.  I'm pretty sure it is not yours either.  Insanely, I still strive for it.  It's like I have this internal drive that longs for that kind of perfection.  I want to worship it.  I put this vision on a pedestal and am ever reaching for it, and I get frustrated every time I miss.

For example, when I got pregnant with Pax, I thought to myself, "This will be the perfect pregnancy.  I'm in better shape this time.  I am going to exercise throughout it and really enjoy this one."  Needless to say, my pregnancy with Pax was beyond miserable.  No one equates throwing up thirty times a day and countless visits to the ER with perfection.  Fail.

Next, I told myself, "This has been a tough pregnancy, but maybe he will be the perfect baby."  Graciously, God did give us a month of almost perfect bliss.  Once we passed the one month mark, we began to have even more trouble getting Pax to eat, and reflux reared its ugly head.  Our peaceful angel turned into a screaming banshee.  Again, fail.

I've struggled with exhaustion.  I've struggled with disappointment.  I've struggled with frustration. I've struggled with depression.  I've decided I am done.  Not with being a parent.  I LOVE my kiddos... sick or not.  I'm done with this longing for a perfect life.  My life isn't perfect now, and it won't be tomorrow.  The moment we get one thing under control something else will take its place.  This world is broken.  I'm broken.  What my heart is really yearning for isn't this idol of perfection that I have made... it's longing for Jesus.  Perfection itself.  

In the chaos of changing diapers, cleaning up puppy messes, tackling the unending piles of laundry, and wiping a toddler's once again snotty nose, Jesus is calling to my tired soul, and I am feeling a tug towards something more.  That isn't a perfect house, perfect family, perfect body, perfect "blank"... He is calling me to Himself.  "Rest in me sweet child," He says, "I am enough.  I am the beginning and the end of everything your heart longs for."

When I give up on my pursuit of making this life the source of my satisfaction and make Jesus all that satisfies instead, I wake up and realize that my life may be messy but it is good.  Really good.  In between the fussy moments of tending to a baby with unending reflux, I wake up and appreciate the warm breath of my infant wrapped tightly against my chest.  I wake up and see my beautiful toddler princess rocking out to her own personal musical in the living room.  I wake up and see my hard working husband carrying the weight of so much on his shoulders but slowing down enough to serve me by unloading the dishwasher when he comes home from work.  I wake up and see that my unpredictable curls are a gift to remind me that life cannot be tamed but is simply meant to be enjoyed for what it is.

One day, when I draw my final breath in this life, I'll begin another where everything that is broken will be renewed.  Perfection will be what is.  Anything less will be only a shadow of the past.  I'll be like Jesus.  Perfect.  Complete. Whole.

Until then, I'll wait.  I will focus on Jesus.  In this beautiful mess, my heart will be full as I rest in His perfection until I see Him face to face.

"O LORD, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it." (Psalm 139:1-6 ESV)

Divine Interruption

Well, it turns out that the reason I was uncomfortable the night before last was because I was developing a sinus infection. Apparently, a sinus infection plus an almost healed nose fracture equals misery. Conveniently, exactly where I fractured my nose is where the infection is the worst. Thanks to my local doctor who called in antibiotics for me, I can already tell after 3 doses that I will survive (I know you were worried).

Besides the facial pain, the worst part is not having the energy I need to keep up with Abby. As always, God times everything perfectly. Since Bryan is preaching a revival here in Memphis, I have had plenty of help during the day in between his times of studying. Since we are not at home, I don't have to feel guilty about resting for most of the day when I can. We may not be sightseeing as I had originally planned, but I am thankful for a time of unexpected rest and for a great husband who practices what he preaches.