Go to Bed! Except Wait...I Miss You, So Maybe Don't??

Let’s talk about bedtime. No not your bed time or mine, but when OUR kids go to bed. Its like magic once you’ve said the last goodnight, filled the last cup of water and finally… you can breathe. Let’s be honest, my husband and I eat most nights at 9 o’clock at night because we find it more relaxing to enjoy our meal when the kids aren’t around. I know, that’s sad, and fairly unhealthy. But it’s kinda our reality in this busy season. Some days we feel like we are simply SURVIVING until bedtime so that we can finally live. Oh, and when did they start in on begging us to stay up late? Don’t those tiny demons know what they are really asking? Asking me to give up the 2 hours of my day that I get to be irresponsible. Asking me to sacrifice time on my couch, in my sweats, with MY show. No Peppa Pig or stinkin’ Blimpy allowed. Don’t get me started on Blimpy. That guy has to go. (Does he remind you of modern day PeeWee, anyone??)

Our week days start at 6 am, and we give, and work, and serve them and others all day. So 15 hours later, at 9pm, when its finally still and quiet…darnet, I want it still and quiet. Sometimes I wish my husband would recognize that those two hours of quiet isn’t an invitation for sex, nah. It’s simply mommy’s personal quiet and Netflix time. (Heartland anyone??? Just me???)

Ok, in all fairness, this is a wee bit extreme. Maybe I feel this way sometimes. Most days are so long I sincerely can’t WAIT til bedtime. But it never fails, 10-15 minutes of quiet and my mom heart starts to miss them. Starts hoping they are having sweet dreams. My mom heart wants to go snuggle them, kiss them one last time. Because heck yes they are exhausting, but I’d rather be exhausted for this love than anywhere else. The other night I went in and snuggled up next to Reese while she was asleep. I wondered, a.) how creepy would it be for her to wake up and see me staring at her?? and b.) does she know HOW deeply she is loved?? I also prayed, “God, please help her to always be good. To always seek YOU. Lord… PLEASE don’t let her do the stupid shit I used to do before I found Asa.”

And THEN I wondered, “Does anyone else cuss when they pray?!?” I don’t do it REGULARLY, but let’s be real, it happens.

Anyway, I digress. Our kids are 5 and 6 years old currently. People ask if life is ‘easier’ (what does that mean??) now that they’re “older.” No, no it does not mean this. Sometimes life seemed more simple when our daughter was a newborn and our son was a toddler. Now they have opinions and REAL voices and they know how to manipulate and beg and LIE (don’t get me started on that because trust me, that’s a future blog post in of itself….) Right now we are teaching them how to read their Bibles, how to pray, how to treat each other (I feel we’ve always tried to do that…??? But it’s nooooooot working sooooooo maybe someone else should give it a try???) Our days are long. We’re tired. We balance 5 million bajillion things. Sometimes, all we want is bedtime.

Except we don’t. Being a parent might be addicting. How can you be so damn tired, wore out, frustrated, annoyed, impatient, and on the last straw a hundred times…yet, also love being needed SO incredibly much. This is life. Right here, right now. My motherhood. And I suppose it’s safe to say that I love every crazy tiring minute.

The Oops That Became Our Biggest "Thank You, Jesus!"

Dear Sisters, 

There have been several of you who have asked to hear my story about "the time I found out I was pregnant with our daughter," or as I like to call it, "the time I put an extra emphasis on the F Word and how God used it ALL for His good." I wrote an e-mail back to a mama recently and decided that I would share it here in this space, with all of you. 

Soooooo yes, our son Pierson was seven months old when I discovered I was pregnant AGAIN. Which means he was SIX months when it happened. I blame our anniversary, my hyperthyroid, and my husband. Duh. 

I sat on the toilet, please keep in mind that I am a Christian and love Jesus dearly; peed on the stick while my husband cooked us lunch, and our son was napping. It was Martin Luther Kind JR day and the reason I remember is because well, first off, it was traumatizing, but also because we had the day off as school teachers. 

"What the F***K are we going to DO!?!?!?" I screamed when my husband entered the bathroom. He looked down at the stick, kissed the top of my head, and said, "We're going to have a baby!" 

I then sat there and wept into my hands, refusing to leave the toilet. I called my mom and barely got two words out before she said, "Oh honey..." and then I lost it even more. 

I had some pretty terrible thoughts those early stages, I will be 100% honest (and vulnerable here). I remember at one point thinking that it would be OKAY if I didn't have this baby and it would be OKAY if God decided I couldn't carry it. I'm talking, EARLY EARLY, like before 8 weeks of pregnancy. It is an AWFUL thought to have as a mom, but I'm human. And I was hormonal x 10000. I, of course, did not do anything to try to hurt my belly or baby, but I wondered if somehow it could or would just go away.

I then began to have super irrational worries [aka the most trivial, strangest, random thoughts EVER]:

We lived in a house with a lot of stairs going from the street to the front door. I remember thinking, legit, HOW I was going to go up and down stairs with TWO kids?! 

C'mon, Ashley... women have sextuplets... 

Girl, I wondered how I would grocery shop. 

Oh, wait... my husband primarily does that. Like 99.789% of the time. So it was another really dumb thing to panic over, but I definitely panicked. OH, and again, women have sextuplets, Ashley, CHILL.

I started to crave sweet things: chocolate, LOTS of chocolate, and NO red meat or sour things [which is what I craved w/ my son]. My face started breaking out galore and I just knew it was a girl. Which is what I wanted if I was having another baby, which clearly I was. We had a gender reveal and sure enough, the cupcake inside was PINK. 

I FINALLY started to bond with her... I FINALLY started to feel okay. Once I embraced WHO was growing in my belly, I actually began to LOVE her. And pray for her. And get excited to meet her. 

So this giant novel is written to express to you that I DEFINITELY freaked out. Like, more than the average mom I am suspecting...? Maybe?? And it's okay if you have or do TOO. Because you do have a long time to continue growing him or her. And he or she IS a miracle. You wouldn't be pregnant with him or her IF there wasn't a plan. And I'm positive God has a beautiful one in mind. 

My Reese tests and challenges me like no one EVER has in my life. I have never disliked someone so strongly and yet LOVED them so deeply; the emotions are a whirlwind often, but she literally makes me laugh out loud and is one of THE funniest humans on this planet [and she's FOUR.] I pray deeply for her as a girl who will turn into a woman; she has a STRONG personality, a very strong will to be seen, heard, and loved. She is going to move mountains, FOR REAL, I am just certain. 

If you're wondering how the transition will be, well, you may as well stop worrying about that :) There's NO way you can really plan for it. Pierson was fifteen months old when we brought her home. Barely toddling around himself and here was his mom, pulling out her boob to nurse this brand new BABY. I can remember some difficulty when he wanted me at the same time as I was feeding. But I very quickly learned how to time and gauge those moments. 

-Make sure he has a snack WHILE I am feeding her, and make sure it's an easy one he can feed himself! 
-Turn on the TV or something that he can watch for 20-30 minutes WHILE I nurse
-Praise him and love him and laugh with him, as OFTEN as I can 

Those were just a few. You'll learn. And he or she will just fit. And you won't know it any other way. I often wonder what life would look like if ours were 2+ years apart [my goal was 2.5 because my brothers and I are all 2.5 years apart!] Clearly, God's plan was different. I was on the pill and nursing and still got pregnant. Soooooooo not much more I could have done!! 

I hope while you're reading, you've laughed a little, and you can breathe a little easier. Tonight as I sit here typing I'm actually a little envious of you! Isn't that funny!? My husband got a vasectomy when Reese was six weeks old (for his 30th birthday, lol) no joke; because I just didn't want my body to go through it so quickly again and I feared it would. But I do miss it!! The wonder and excitement, the RATIONAL parts of the fears, the movements and hiccups and the belly growing each month. Sigh. See? It's ALL going to be okay. 

Chin up, sister. You've got this! And if I can help whatsoever, know that I am here and willing!!!!