Back to this fall. I've been in a weird place and my first instinct was to place the blame outside our home. I felt pulled in too many directions and that my children were suffering because of it. You saw that ugliness in my last blog post. Knowing she had been in my situation I talked to my sweet SIL and took her advice. I thought about our family's priorities and values and made a list of what I wanted for us. I truly thought this was going to lead us to homeschooling. So many of my frustrations come from drop offs, pick ups, homework, practice times, meetings, therapy times, etc., etc. In my mind eliminating the hustle and bustle of school and tailoring a curriculum to our needs/wants would simplify things. I was surprised to find that the thought of pulling our bigs out of school broke my heart. I love our school. I love the relationships we have with the teachers. I love crossing my fingers every August hoping we get our beloved favorite for that particular grade level. I love that we have to wipe tears away in May when we say goodbye. I love our custodian, Ms. Doris, who went thru the twins pregnancy with me. The babies know her and get big smiles when they see her in the halls. I appreciate the rigor of the curriculum, and while I complain that I need to visit youtube to help with homework, I'm proud that my bigs rise to the challenge. I love serving on the PTA board. I know that debating fundraisers isn't curing cancer, but it makes me happy. Ok, no changes to school then. I also looked at the extra curricular activities the bigs are involved in. They each have one activity. G takes guitar lessons out of our home and W is in cub scouts (F even takes him to the meetings). No changes to be made there either.
At this point I'd just resigned myself to having to learn to feel satisfied with the status-quo. I needed to work on getting more sleep and more "me" time, but life with five kids was never going to be calm or simple. Then God spoke. Loudly. Bluntly. I love it when He does that. In my devotional yesterday:
One of the happiest times of my life was when the twins were brand new. It didn't matter that I had very little help and that I had to balance 3 other young children. I was so focused on my family that everything else fell to the wayside. It was the first time in my life that I wasn't holding myself to the ridiculously high standards I usually set. My job was to nurse the twins, play with Oliver, and be with W and G when they got home from school. If I failed at anything else it was no problem because I had the built in excuse of new twins. Beds not made? New twins Cereal for dinner? New twins Dirty floor? New twins O's watching too much TV? New twins There was no pressure only happiness and a feeling of contentment. I showed myself grace because I knew I was doing the very best I could do.
Why is it so important that all the beds be made before I leave the house every morning? Why does my calendar have to be color coded? Why does every toy have to be put away before naptime and before bedtime? Why am I so disappointed in myself if I don't do these things? Where did the grace go?
I have a very nurturing spirit and love to mother. Frank jokes that my maternal instinct is too developed. I wish I could somehow shift some of that nurturing and mothering to myself. There just isn't room in my life for the frantic, hectic, guilty energy that comes from perfectionism. This was also in my devotional yesterday:
"When we take the time to really be thankful for the lives that we lead, that recognition of our blessings will eat up the space we would normally fill with noticing what we don't have or what we're not." emphasis mine
I once read that thankfulness is an art form. I believe that. I know that the absolute gratefulness I felt when my babies were finally home from the NICU and thriving is very different than the thankfulness I feel today. I want to get back to the selfless praise that leads to grace.
