Let's Be BAD Moms!

I don't go to the movies. Like, ever. So when my sister in law said she'd go with me to see Bad Moms in the theatre, I was super ecstatic. I don't know about you and where you live, but movie tickets are way too dang overpriced here in Kentucky. I grew up where tickets cost $5 and a giant diet coke was $3 (oh, and we had free refills!) Before walking in to the theatre, I had some definite pre-movie-attending-anxiety. 

Please don't suck. Don't be a waste of time. Please be worth every single cent we just spent to get in here and slurp on our $7 soft drinks!

But lo and behold, seconds into the movie both of us were dying laughing. Don't get me wrong, the F Bomb is dropped every five seconds but oh.my.gosh soooooooo worth it! The main character (played by Mila Kunis) seems to have the "perfect life", but just like most moms, she's completely over-worked, exhausted and way over-committed. She meets two women, who couldn't be more opposite from one another, and together they have some way overdue fun encompassed by tons of laughter and tears. 

As the movie ended I thought, I have to write about this! And then I received a Facebook message from a dear friend of mine who solidified this need to write even more. 

"Do all moms feel like they could be better moms? Or do I just suck...After I put her to bed and she's lying next to me (yes, she sleeps with me), I look back on the day and see all the wasted opportunities for her to learn and grow and for us to grow together, because I had other shit to do. And I see this angel, God's GIFT to me, peaceful beside me, and I feel like the biggest f'ing asshole..." 

Ladies? How many of you are RIGHT THERE? 

"I feel like a bad mom. I feel like I could be better. Like she deserves BETTER. I don't know how anyone does it, if you're not a millionaire who doesn't need to work or cook or clean or pay bills...I don't have childhood memories with my mom. She was working or grumpy. That's what I am? I'm THAT?!? I don't want to be that. I don't want to be too tired or too grumpy or too BUSY. It isn't fair."

Isn't that what we all are? We are tired, we are grumpy, we are busy. We are MOMS. WHY are we so hard on ourselves? In this day and age, it seriously IS pretty impossible to be a good mom. These lines in the movie had me splitting up and also need to be said here:

"There are so many f'ing rules now" 
"Don't punish your kids." 
"Don't say NO to your kids." 
"We all work too damn hard trying to make our kids lives amazing and magical. Their lives already ARE amazing and magical. Screw it. Let's be BAD moms." [Kiki, Carla and Amy from Bad Moms]

Maybe it'll help you if I offer some personal perspective. Guess what my four year-old wants to eat EVERY SINGLE DAY? I'll give you a guess: NOT spinach and kale.. Nope. Try Pizza Luncheables. And the first thing my kids do when they wake up in the morning? Use their iPads for 15 minutes (cough, or thirty, cough) so that I can drink my coffee and keep my talking to a minimum. I hate mornings! What in the world am I going to do when I stay home full time come  this winter?! Oh, probably the same thing. 

Does it make me a bad mom because I allow Luncheables to be "lunch" three days a week? Or that I give them screen time when I need a break? (If you say yes, we probably shouldn't be friends....) 

This job is HARD. It's emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually EXHAUSTING. We work jobs outside of the home and come home to more work, or we stay home and there's a crap ton that go unnoticed by the littles ones we are raising. And no matter what your other titles are, I can tell you that being the Maid, Chef, Nurse, Handyman, Therapist, Friend, Pooper Scooper, Professional Cuddler, Discipliner and so freeking much more... all roll into a giant combustion of what MOM really is. 

But yet, we feel guilt. We don't want to be remembered for our yelling, for our tears, for our frustration. We want our kids to have these picturesque memories of rainbows and sunshine and kitten cuddles and nothing but laughter as they tell THEIR kids what their childhood resembled. Well I'm here to encourage you--be a BAD mom! 

Take care of yourself. While your kids play hide and seek go lock yourself in the bathroom for three minutes to breathe and have some positive self-talk. Make arrangements to go out with a girlfriend and do whatever the HECK you want. Laugh. Cry. Punch a punching bag. Go for a run. Eat a pint of ice cream. And then keep being Mom. 

I bet you're doing the best you can. I know my friend who sent me that message is! She is a woman who I admire immensely, who has always been a go-getter, working herself through college and raising a kid at the same time. I bet you get angry and your kids have seen you cry. I bet you've raised your voice at them and screamed for them to go to their rooms. I bet you've had to apologize and ask for forgiveness and grace. And I also bet you have hugged them, and danced with them and taken them out for ice cream and slushies and to the theatre where they can have THEIR very own bucket of popcorn and too big of a soft drink. 

So ladies? Why don't we breathe? Give yourself a pat on the back and go ahead, give yourself slack, "I'm going to be a BAD mom!" 

Faith in the Unknown

Summer is dwindling down, well, at least for teachers and students here in Kentucky. The first portion of my actual 'vacation' was spent with an overwhelming amount of illness, but these past few weeks have still found a lot of sweetness. 

My husband is the one who does the numbers budget wise, so recently he was looking at my photography account. He excitedly asked me to stop doing whatever I was doing to listen to the good news: pending an emergency or unforeseen financial hiccup, we currently have saved enough for me to have seven solid months off from teaching to stay home with the kids. I knew that it was possible, and for a while I felt like I was just working my tail off without getting anything in return, but now I see and am reminded that God really and truly DOES provide. I'll be going back to my home school this coming August, the one I started my teaching career at, and I am so very blessed for THAT opportunity, period. When I accepted the job, the sweet Principal sent me a text that read, "Welcome home." I've had full support of everyone to stay home when the time comes, so this winter, it looks like that will actually become a reality. Guys... I almost can't believe it! 

We are praying for more photography and writing opportunities, and I really do think God has more big things up His sleeve as far as His plan for my life, so I will continue to trust and pray, a LOT. It was this time last year that we decided to take our home OFF the market because there was just no place to go, and while I've found a place of peace and contentment in where we're at, my heart still struggles with restlessness for our 'next home.' A few days ago we went to look at a place in Bloomfield, Kentucky, which is a whopping fifty minutes from our current home. We got super lost trying to find it, and the kids were troopers anxiously awaiting getting to visit "the country," as they called it. 

FINALLY, we arrived. We pulled in to the gravel driveway where old, mature trees surrounded us. The white house, built in 1910, was absolutely beautiful, but still very clearly needed a LOT of work. We drove to the back where a gorgeous white porch greeted us. A peach tree stood next to it, and the neighbors had on their property an OLD, deep red barn (the kind that I dream about constantly!) Behind the house was miles of farm land. My son did three laps completely around the house, my daughter asked to take her shoes off, and it happened again, similar to when we looked at a house on land last summer: my heart stopped. When we walked in the back door, we were in the kitchen that housed a wood stove. In the entryway, was a breathtaking wooden staircase that led to the second floor, where there were HUGE, beautiful bedrooms. In the midst of looking, we were obviously searching for the 'problems,' and yeah... there seemed to be quite a few. Cracked plaster, no shower in the upstairs bathroom, an unfinished third floor (that could be an AMAZING loft area), water in the basement.... and the real kicker, it is at least 45 minutes away from ALL our Kentucky friends and family AND at least 25 minutes from the closest grocery store.

I went to bed that tonight of course dreaming of our family in that home. And then I also had thoughts of doubt like what would I do with the kids when I'm a full time stay-at-home Mom? No YMCA nearby, no playgrounds or parks, no Kroger, no Targets, no FRIENDS....... 

Remember that I've been a city dweller for TEN years! And though I grew up in the country in Michigan, we were ten minutes from the grocery store (and Wal-Mart), and Target and the malls were thirty minutes away. I didn't have close by friends, so I practically lived at my Grandmother's farm (which I walked to through the fields), and I don't remember my mom ever being overwhelmed that there wasn't 'anything for us to do' because I played constantly outdoors with my big brother. But here I am, dreaming about my future white farmhouse, on acreage, and wondering a) does it exist? and b) will I be capable of living that lifestyle?! 

Isn't life funny? It's just weird. I see our kids running barefoot around the trees, picking fruit from their branches. I see us feeding chickens and gathering their eggs, I see one or two horses peacefully grazing on Kentucky bluegrass. I see all of this, deep down in my heart, and sometimes I lose faith in not only my Creator, but in myself. 

"What will make you TRULY happy, Ashley?" My husband has asked before. And the answer is usually the same: I'm not really sure? I have no idea what our life will look like if all of the above dreams come true... but I know that I can't personally make any of it happen. I can't find our next home, I can't tell you where we'll end up or what lifestyle we will be living. But I have to trust that God DOES know these things. He knows if I'll love staying home with the kids or if I'll actually be begging to return to my classroom at my wits end. He knows if I'll end up with a farmhouse in my twenties, or if our next place will end up being in a subdivision (please, God, no....) 

Summer is almost gone, with just a couple of short weeks left before returning to our jobs... but I'm excited and hopeful to see where we go + what will be our future. 

Are We Different? Or Are We the Same?

How many of you have read the Sesame Street book, "We Are All Different, We Are all the Same?" Our eyes are different, our eyes are all the same... Our skin is all different, our skin is all the same...

Maybe you've seen this cover or read it to your children without really thinking, "What is different?"

I am the youngest child of three, and my oldest brother was born with a handicap called Cerebral Palsy. On top of this disability, he struggled with liver failure, Grand Mal seizures, Toxic Mega Colon, and more. Doctors didn't give him a high life expectancy and in Michigan medical books, somewhere he is labeled as a 'Medical Miracle.' Because he is. When the average person sees my brother, I guarantee that their thought is that he is 'different.' He walks differently, speaks differently, uses the bathroom differently... but compared to YOU, isn't he also the same?

You see, Nathan loves to laugh. One of his love languages is to be read to, spoken to, and to play the computer. He loves technology and to dance. If he could eat a dozen cookies or a birthday cake, he would at the drop of a hat. He enjoys movies and playing the iPad, he appreciates routine and structure and desires to be loved, just like you just like me.

My kids have been around Nathan every few months since the day they were born. He's Uncle Nate and never in their life have they loved him any differently just because he himself is "different." Now, our 4-year old who is really beginning to be able to rationalize some thoughtful questions, has recently asked innocent things like, "When will Nathan be able to talk?" or, "I hope someday Nathan will be able to walk without help from Mimi." And I've felt blessed to explain to him that Jesus created my brother and that in this lifetime, though it may seem difficult, Nathan will always live life this way. However, I explain, someday Nathan will be given his Heavenly body and he will be able to dance and run and walk and talk SO perfectly, because that's what Jesus intends for him. We come back to the here and now and I get to explain to my son that Nathan really isn't all that "different" from him and without hesitation, my son runs past my brother and says, "Hey, Nate!" just like he would run past my other brother who doesn't have special needs. Nathan is different, but he is the same.

Flash back a few weeks ago when our family was at the Waterfront Park. A young boy ran past my son and I and immediately it was obvious he had several quote on quote, differences. His head was very large compared to his body, he had a tracheotomy, his voice was altered because of it, and my 4-year old immediately pointed and said, "Mommy, what's wrong with that boy??" He seemed very concerned and I quietly and gently lowered his arm. I stooped to his level and whispered, "Let's go some place else to talk." I explained to him that though he didn't mean any harm, we really shouldn't point at anyone. I then said, "Pierson, you remember Uncle Nate right?" "Yes," he responded. "Well, Nathan was created differently, but you still love him the same. The same is true for this boy. I don't know his story, I don't know the reasons why he looks the way that he does, but I know that Jesus created him. I also know that we need to love him." I was wishing this boy would run past us again so that I could hop up and introduce my son and I, but he didn't. When we saw him though, he had a group of friends around him and I was so thankful that he did. My son dropped the conversation and just went on to play, but more questions came later that night.

He asked me again, "What was wrong with that boy." I haven't quite seen my son as worried as he seemed to be for this other child, so I told Pierson that I felt we needed to pray. I prayed aloud that God would calm his spirit, ease his mind and that the next time he saw anyone 'different,' that Pierson would be able to befriend him. We talked a few minutes longer and I left his room holding my breath. I exhaled as I shut the door, sat on my bed and began to weep. That was by far the most difficult conversation I've yet had to have with my son, and my heart wept for my brother, this boy, and for any other human who has gone through life wondering if they would be loved in spite of their differences.

This topic doesn't end at special needs. You ask any kid who has a learning disability, speech impediment, anxiety, a different skin color from his or her classmates, a different accent, who feels attracted to a different gender, who identifies as a different gender... ask them if the first thing they feel when they walk into a room is love. And what about me? At barely 5'2'' I stand shorter than most. As a teacher, I'm smaller than some of my own students! I've got pointy ears, get adult acne, and as a mom, I couldn't even breastfeed my babies as long as I wanted to. While I didn't choose any of these things, how different really, do they make me from YOU?

At 4-years old, my son's questions won't stop here. Our world is large and vast. He will go to school with trans-gendered children, he will grow up knowing and loving many same-sex couples. He (and I) will continue to see things we have never seen before, and we may not always have "the answers." But as a mom and writer, I am begging you to take a second and pause.

What is your reaction to different? And what message are you going to send your children, who someday you will send off to school, or at the very least, send off in to society. What legacy will you leave behind and how do you yourself wish to be treated?

We are all different.

We are all very much the same.

When Life Brings More Lonely than Laughter

This season of life? It's hard. 

Actually, it feels more than hard. What is it? Difficult? Trying? Strenuous? Exhausting? No, it's all of that compiled in to one giant helluva pile. 

You've probably read my most recent post, "The Seven Layers of Hell, aka Life Lately," and if you haven't, you may want to start there. There's been sickness after sickness, one doctor visit after another, and loneliness. Lots and lots of loneliness. 

If you're a mom, you've been there. Your kid throws up and you strip him butt naked, strip the bedding, rinse out the bedding, wash the bedding, and you just keep going. The afternoon and evenings continue and you think, "I'm kind of hungry. Food kind of sounds good right now," but there's more to get done. 

A walk would be nice. Some fresh air, Vitamin D, breathing in something other than a gigantic bubble of sickness. But life just keeps going. Friends go out to dinner, to the mall, to movies, to workout together. Summer parties happen, food, drinks, being surrounded by the people they love. And yet, here I am, Mom, stuck in the middle, wiping one more surface, picking up one more toy to disinfect, internally wishing someone would text me and say: 

Hey, I'm coming over. We're going out so that you can have a break.  

It sounds so selfish, doesn't it? If you don't have kids, maybe you're thinking, "You signed up for this. You wanted to be a Mom. You wanted kids. You should be thankful." Trust me, I'm thankful for my title. I'm grateful that God chose me to raise the two little souls that I am. Their laughter is contagious, their hugs are indescribable, their kisses magical. But before this, I didn't know what it looked like. No one does. We don't plan for these things, we can't be prepared for these seasons, they just happen. Crap hits the fan and no one warns you and when it does, you just feel alone. 

My husband hasn't been absent or missing and really, he's been anything but. He's completely a hands-on Dad, he has been here with me in the trenches, cleaning up vomit, being quick with the puke pans and making sure that we're all cared for. But as I've gotten older, I've come to really long for womanhood--for a Tribe perhaps, that feels like my own, as we support and rely on each other. High school was so so. I played sports and was involved in after school programs. Honestly I had the same best friends from the time I was 4-years old until we left for college. No, we aren't all still these BFF's who call each other weekly or send goofy text messages, but I'll always tell you that they were my very best friends. I'm grateful for social media and for it allowing so many of us to stay in touch. From Boston to Denver to Utah to Michigan, it's so fun catching up on photos and watching everyone live their lives. 

But what about here and now. When my church community is shifting and changing and all of us are going through so many different seasons. And when my parents live six hours away and getting there with sick children is just impossible. What about the present, when I am reminded that God called me to be a mother x 2, but I am tired of being asked why, I'm tired of looking forward to bedtime, and I'm tired of praying, "Lord, please just help us to be over sickness." Life is busy, but not in the fun ways. We've attempted dinner parties that have had to be postponed due to illness, and each time we've canceled plans, my heart sinks and fights hard to see the light.

This season of life? It's lonely. But I refuse to allow it to win. Loneliness breeds so much negativity-- darkness, and so much pain. So when I scrub the dog pee out of the carpet (yes, that happened) and when my daughter dunks her head in to the toilet (yes, that happened too), I will remind myself, This too shall pass. These are the days, the years, that they will need me the most. (Maybe not the pets, but definitely the ever-growing toddlers.) They cling to my legs and demand a hug and a kiss even if I'm leaving for a five minute breath of fresh air. They fight still over Mommy putting them down, and this season of puke, fevers, sore throats and boo boo's, well, it's only just that--a season. 

I've felt sorry for myself lately, but I won't anymore. I'll listen to their deep belly laughs and snap pictures of their kitten cuddling naps. I'll pray for a community, hold tightly to my girls who have loved me well, and believe that this temporary loneliness will NOT steal part of my life. And I'll also continue to be honest. When you ask me, "How are you?" I have told you, "I've been better but I'll be okay," and I mean that.

It hasn't been all sunshine and roses, but I do know and believe that life will just get better from here.