The Seat of Champions

*NOTE: Mommy blog alert. The following post contains blatant "Mommy blog" undertones, presenting subject matter of potty's, tinkles, and other references that once made my un-mommy heart wonder "Why on earth are you sharing this with me?". (To all I thought that about - I sincerely apologize. )


It's a brand new day people. Attempt one, day one in the world of potty training. And through it all I am learning that all those quizzes that ask if your child is ready are so unnecessary. The question they SHOULD be asking: Is MOMMY ready?

What a day. A LOT of excited trips to the potty (this kid LOVES to sit on his little throne). A handful of jelly bean incentives. Brand new "big boy gitchy". One little "accident", and one priceless moment at the end of a long day of nothing... the sound I never thought would be music to my ears... a little tinkle. Followed by ABSOLUTE DELIGHT, euphoria, ear to ear grinning, cheering and dancing between Mommy and child.


And one life lesson for the day: "Sammy, look at Mommy. Look into Mommy's eyes. Now listen. Sam, Never EVER, Never NEVER...Sammy listen to Mommy. Look in my eyes. NEVER. Sam stand still. Listen. Never ever EVER EVER again put your hands in the toilet. EVER." Oh bless my germaphobic heart. Sigh

Would Someone Like to Adopt Me?

Can I tell you a secret? This motherhood thing is kicking my butt. It is an overwhelming, never ending lesson in selflessness, patience and sacrifice. And let us not forget the tiredness. And the sheer soul weariness. I feel weary in my soul. Deeply weary.

I fight against guilt to even say these things out loud. For some reason, ever since Sam was even a day old, I have felt like I should keep these feelings to myself. To hide them, and pretend they are not there. After all – I prayed for him for years. I waited and wanted and longed and cried. God finally answered, and now who am I to express anything but sheer joy and thankfulness in every single moment of motherhood?

But as much as I love Sam, and my heart thrills in those twinkling blue eyes and sweet sweet kisses, I feel overwhelmed at the sheer CONSTANTNESS of motherhood. And sometimes I don’t want to go to bed at night, because I am so tired at the thought of another day to do it all over again.

I think it is times like this I realize that sometimes a Mother needs a Mother.

I give so much of myself to Sam. I love him and care for him. I put my schedule on hold for him. I anticipate his needs and what would make his little life and his little heart happy. I clean up after him and feed him. I listen to his funny little chatter and soothe his heart when he is sad. I am the meeter of his needs and the tender to his little spirit.

Tonight I feel like I need a mother. Someone to come and clean up after me, and feed me, and put me to sleep when I am grumpy. Someone to talk to me when I am sad (which is a lot lately.) And help me bring order to my world. Or maybe I just need someone to come and clean my bathroom and play with Sam while I have a nap.

Would anyone like to adopt a fairly needy, somewhat whiny, tired and emotional 38 year old, who needs constant attention, and desperate help in the house department? I also have blue eyes that twinkle, and give great kisses. But since I have to save those for the two guys in my life, you will have to take my word on that one. Any takers?

Changing My World One Meatloaf at a Time

I made meatloaf today. Sounds a little everyday-living life-hum drum-normal don’t you think? But I don’t break out the “fancy cooking” too often (Anything that requires the oven is considered fancy in my books.). So I guess meatloaf is my abnormal in usual normalness.

I have been thinking a lot about my life lately. I have been thinking about what I accomplish. What is my sum total in this life? Am I really making a difference?

I had an encounter last weekend. I asked one of my church ladies what kind of week she had. She proceeded to tell me, with enthusiasm and energy, about her interactions with neighbours, her conversations that turned to God-talks, her embraced opportunities to infuse scripture and encouragement to the heavy hearted. She was radiating delight.

She then asked me what my week had been like.
I froze.

There were dirty diapers, and temper tantrums. The endless dishes were battled and lost. I think I managed to throw a load of laundry in. It may very well still be sitting there in the washer - a growing mess of damp sogginess for all I know. Oh, and I did quite enjoy American Idol when I grabbed a moment to sit down and completely tune out from everything.

I stared at her blankly. Far too long for proper etiquette. I really could not answer the question. So I mumbled something, and actually hurried away in my discomfort.

I thought later – why didn’t I talk with enthusiasm and energy of my exciting week, of my adventures and high calling to influence and shape the little world around me? Why didn’t I share of my role as boo boo kisser and milk fetcher? As toy retriever and head chef, meeting the nutritional demands of the future president or the next Billy Graham. Why didn’t I talk about the privilege that I have to spend even a moment delighting in pure blue eyes – seeing everything for the first time. Witnessing and enjoying a little human interacting with his growing world.

Climbing. Learning. Developing. Changing.
It is a high calling. And I want to embrace it until I also radiate with delight.

On Sunday I am hoping to run into this lady again. And I hope she asks me about my week.

I'm going to tell her I made meatloaf.