Rambling.... into 2108
I just ordered my 2015-2016 blog book. 2015….so long ago…. There were technical and preferential issues as to why it’s so late but I won’t go into all that. But my ninth 7x7 hardback book is on its way and that makes me happy. Scanning posts and pictures as I was arranging them on the pages just caused me to remember how much I love having a small record of what is going on….because we forget SO much. And even now, as I sit to write many months and moments have transpired I don’t even know where to start. {I realize I say this EVERY time!} So today, right now seems a logical place to begin….
My house is quiet and there is a fire beside me. I am sitting in one of my Grandmother’s chairs I’ve had recovered a couple of times.… after my mom did and after my Grandmother did. It’s my winter spot. The kids just went back to school this week— on Tuesday — and I wound up working that day so Wednesday after a morning meeting, I came home to a quiet house and this note by the fireplace:
Jeff knew I had been struggling. Oh, I told him but I didn’t NEED to tell him. He could see it all over my being. My social introverted self was about to implode. My social meter had gone “boing” and was dangling inside the glass. There is NOT ONE THING to complain about. Our Christmas was absolutely wonderful— full of family, traditions, our road trip, yummy food, friends— and some really great and not so great Georgia football. The hard part is finding recharge time— down time— a bit of solitude— breathing room— just a little bit of space. And sometimes you don’t realize how bad off you are until you are in the middle of a stupid argument with your 14 year old. You think, “What is wrong with me? I just picked this fight and I don’t even care about the outcome!” I KNOW my family is tired of me when I get to that point because I AM TIRED OF ME too. And here is where I get to practice walking in the Spirit when my flesh is screaming for me to just please itself. Sometimes the practice goes well and sometimes I give in to me. So today, it’s quiet. And I get to work on my Bible study. I get to go through the stack by my computer. I get to read by this fire. I get to type some thoughts down. And I am so thankful. I just texted Jeff and told him I was feeling better by the hour. ; )
Side note: It's kindnesses like these that I need to offer more. Kindness goes such a long way.... heals hurts, breaks down tension, fuels further kindnesses, grows love into something with depth and character. I am grateful for a thoughtful husband.
At some point, like when the kids won’t care, I want to document this parenting journey— the tweener years into the teenage years— because it has been so surprising to me. Stuff happens faster than you can blink and some things you don’t ever think to prepare them for because you would have never thought it might be an issue and if you did, you didn’t think it was time yet. I feel like I was blindsided in the tweener years and was NOT prepared for their doing exactly what I had prepared for them NOT to do. Ha! That should make any parent with kids over 10 laugh! But here we are in this house—at 14 and 16 {next week}— and every day is different. The schedule is different, the emotions are different, the moods are different, the needs are different. I guess the same can be said of any age of kids, but I think with teenagers, it’s all just BIGGER. They are premature adults trying to figure things out as everything seems to be changing — not to mention what we’ve learned with all the new brain research. {It’s a wonder any of us made it out of the teenage years! The “teenage brain really IS a thing!}
My favorite times with them is when a real conversation starts— criteria for “real”— something that matters and the child you know you are raising is doing the talking— not some persona they are hoping to keep up so kids think they are cool until they realize how foolish it is to have this “other persona” and give it up— which calls for celebrations of the largest kind. I love those moments and they happen mostly around the dinner table or when I have one of them by themselves. Sidenote— like this whole post isn’t— The power of the “dinner table” is undoubtedly underrated. It’s so true that good things happen around the table— not EVERY night {and who has a schedule that can make that happen?} but even if you get “magic” one out of ten, then the mashing of potatoes was worth it. Cook the dinner. Set the table. Sit down. Without phones. “Make it happen” is what I tell myself around 4. The effort will pay off.
I am so rambling….then there are the irrelevant conversations you have over text with your teenage girl who decides at school the day BEFORE the cheer competition that she is pale and needs a spray tan. These words have never been uttered by her before. She was booked until 8:30 or 9 that night and she leaves for school at 7:00 am the next morning and leaves from school at lunch for the competition. When I read the text, I was like, well, this will be easy. I don’t have to say yes or no, I can just ask her “When?”and she will answer the question herself. But of course, there is a girl on the squad that OWNS a tan sprayer and they are going over there AFTER their pre-competition dinner that night. It’s not important how all that ended but it’s conversation you engage and then hopefully she trusts you the next day with saying something like, “I don’t feel pretty” when she really doesn’t feel pretty and you get to share words of life, hope and Truth. Over text. Of course. I’ll take the words any way I can get them.
Then there’s B who is an idea a minute with his words. Nothing like Brighton Sanders has made me want a driver more— or maybe a planner who can keep track of it all and do all the texting back and forth with other moms to make it happen! He wants to be going and doing and seeing at every tick of the clock. He’s always got a plan, making a plan, working a plan—- or thinking up the next plan before the present one is carried to completion. He could employ his own driver. I am amazed by how much time we could spend driving him around— AND it begins to make you LONG for a driver when you are really terror-stricken to let them drive. I don’t think I’ll ever do this but it makes you understand why sometimes parents use Uber for their kids. Kind of. However, I won’t forget ONE of the Saturdays he was ‘chained’ to the house—- not really but to hear him talk about it…. BALL and CHAIN…. Around 4 o’clock, he leaned over the couch where I was reading and said, “You know, Mom, it really hasn’t been all that bad being here today.” Well. I may or may not have rolled my eyes before I turned and said, “Home is not such a bad place to be. I’m glad you were home today.” And I really was.
And that’s where I find myself this morning in a much needed quiet place— recharging for the people I love the most. They truly do get the worst of me when I honestly want them to get the best of me. I know my weakness but I also know His strength and I trust that always, always, always, His grace is sufficient for me. {2 Corinthians 12:9} Especially on the days I am the worst version of myself.
My house is quiet and there is a fire beside me. I am sitting in one of my Grandmother’s chairs I’ve had recovered a couple of times.… after my mom did and after my Grandmother did. It’s my winter spot. The kids just went back to school this week— on Tuesday — and I wound up working that day so Wednesday after a morning meeting, I came home to a quiet house and this note by the fireplace:
Jeff knew I had been struggling. Oh, I told him but I didn’t NEED to tell him. He could see it all over my being. My social introverted self was about to implode. My social meter had gone “boing” and was dangling inside the glass. There is NOT ONE THING to complain about. Our Christmas was absolutely wonderful— full of family, traditions, our road trip, yummy food, friends— and some really great and not so great Georgia football. The hard part is finding recharge time— down time— a bit of solitude— breathing room— just a little bit of space. And sometimes you don’t realize how bad off you are until you are in the middle of a stupid argument with your 14 year old. You think, “What is wrong with me? I just picked this fight and I don’t even care about the outcome!” I KNOW my family is tired of me when I get to that point because I AM TIRED OF ME too. And here is where I get to practice walking in the Spirit when my flesh is screaming for me to just please itself. Sometimes the practice goes well and sometimes I give in to me. So today, it’s quiet. And I get to work on my Bible study. I get to go through the stack by my computer. I get to read by this fire. I get to type some thoughts down. And I am so thankful. I just texted Jeff and told him I was feeling better by the hour. ; )
Side note: It's kindnesses like these that I need to offer more. Kindness goes such a long way.... heals hurts, breaks down tension, fuels further kindnesses, grows love into something with depth and character. I am grateful for a thoughtful husband.
At some point, like when the kids won’t care, I want to document this parenting journey— the tweener years into the teenage years— because it has been so surprising to me. Stuff happens faster than you can blink and some things you don’t ever think to prepare them for because you would have never thought it might be an issue and if you did, you didn’t think it was time yet. I feel like I was blindsided in the tweener years and was NOT prepared for their doing exactly what I had prepared for them NOT to do. Ha! That should make any parent with kids over 10 laugh! But here we are in this house—at 14 and 16 {next week}— and every day is different. The schedule is different, the emotions are different, the moods are different, the needs are different. I guess the same can be said of any age of kids, but I think with teenagers, it’s all just BIGGER. They are premature adults trying to figure things out as everything seems to be changing — not to mention what we’ve learned with all the new brain research. {It’s a wonder any of us made it out of the teenage years! The “teenage brain really IS a thing!}
My favorite times with them is when a real conversation starts— criteria for “real”— something that matters and the child you know you are raising is doing the talking— not some persona they are hoping to keep up so kids think they are cool until they realize how foolish it is to have this “other persona” and give it up— which calls for celebrations of the largest kind. I love those moments and they happen mostly around the dinner table or when I have one of them by themselves. Sidenote— like this whole post isn’t— The power of the “dinner table” is undoubtedly underrated. It’s so true that good things happen around the table— not EVERY night {and who has a schedule that can make that happen?} but even if you get “magic” one out of ten, then the mashing of potatoes was worth it. Cook the dinner. Set the table. Sit down. Without phones. “Make it happen” is what I tell myself around 4. The effort will pay off.
I am so rambling….then there are the irrelevant conversations you have over text with your teenage girl who decides at school the day BEFORE the cheer competition that she is pale and needs a spray tan. These words have never been uttered by her before. She was booked until 8:30 or 9 that night and she leaves for school at 7:00 am the next morning and leaves from school at lunch for the competition. When I read the text, I was like, well, this will be easy. I don’t have to say yes or no, I can just ask her “When?”and she will answer the question herself. But of course, there is a girl on the squad that OWNS a tan sprayer and they are going over there AFTER their pre-competition dinner that night. It’s not important how all that ended but it’s conversation you engage and then hopefully she trusts you the next day with saying something like, “I don’t feel pretty” when she really doesn’t feel pretty and you get to share words of life, hope and Truth. Over text. Of course. I’ll take the words any way I can get them.
Then there’s B who is an idea a minute with his words. Nothing like Brighton Sanders has made me want a driver more— or maybe a planner who can keep track of it all and do all the texting back and forth with other moms to make it happen! He wants to be going and doing and seeing at every tick of the clock. He’s always got a plan, making a plan, working a plan—- or thinking up the next plan before the present one is carried to completion. He could employ his own driver. I am amazed by how much time we could spend driving him around— AND it begins to make you LONG for a driver when you are really terror-stricken to let them drive. I don’t think I’ll ever do this but it makes you understand why sometimes parents use Uber for their kids. Kind of. However, I won’t forget ONE of the Saturdays he was ‘chained’ to the house—- not really but to hear him talk about it…. BALL and CHAIN…. Around 4 o’clock, he leaned over the couch where I was reading and said, “You know, Mom, it really hasn’t been all that bad being here today.” Well. I may or may not have rolled my eyes before I turned and said, “Home is not such a bad place to be. I’m glad you were home today.” And I really was.
And that’s where I find myself this morning in a much needed quiet place— recharging for the people I love the most. They truly do get the worst of me when I honestly want them to get the best of me. I know my weakness but I also know His strength and I trust that always, always, always, His grace is sufficient for me. {2 Corinthians 12:9} Especially on the days I am the worst version of myself.
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