The Party That Never Quits

You know the ones.

The one' who's facebook statuses are a constant love fest of

"Johnny said the cutest Jesus reference today!"

or

"Sarah is just the most beautifully behaved three year old child! She is the delight of my life!"

or

"Look at these 150 thousand adorable photos of my kid... eating... watermelon" (or whatever)

or

"I've been away from my kids for 2 days and I MISS THEM SO MUCH!"

or

"Daughters are.... sugar... spice... everything perfect and nice... repost if your daughter brings you more joy... blah

BLAH

BLAH

You may have guessed that I am not the gushy parent.

No, really.

And I seem to be the lone voice when it comes to "tough morning" or "I want to run away and never come back" status updates. I feel like there's something wrong with me when we do get a night or two to ourselves, and people ask, "so do you miss them?" and I'm all like... "*laugh* No".

I don't keep every item of schoolwork they bring home. In fact, I loathe it when the teachers send it all home at the end of the year. I don't keep detailed books on their first year, or do monthly scrapbook spreads, I don't keep every piece of artwork that gets shoved under my nose or whatever else people do that unintentionally makes me feel like an inferior parent.

I have friends who are constantly telling me that they ABSOLUTELY LOVE HOLIDAYS (while I've just told them how badly I'm struggling not to send mine to Siberia) or that they just COUNT DOWN THE MINUTES until their cherubs get home from school (while my younger kids begin to cry as soon as I tell them we have to go and pick the others up) or how sweet and loving, and already passionate about Jesus their 2 year old is (while I've just about given up on mine ever doing as they're told). The constant "my kid is so adorable" seriously makes me want to puke. I'm like... what fantasy land do you people live in? Can I get tickets please?

It makes me feel bad. Because, obviously, I'm doing the whole mothering gig terribly wrong. It makes me feel guilty, too, because I know how lucky I am to have my children with me... alive.

Oh, I have 'excuses'.

I am aware that we are coming out of an incredibly trying time. We eight live in a tiny house. Troy has Autism, which has been regressing rather over the last 12 months. This then, of course, leads to lots of screaming and fighting and bickering. I realise this does not help with the liking of children right now.

But this is not the real reason.

And this is where the introspection comes in.

I should enjoy my children more. I should notice the things they say more. They ARE only little once, and this should be such a wonderful time. All the mothers who have grown children that I admire all say the same thing... "I wish I'd played with them more" or urge me to get down on their level more.

Back when I was the 'perfect parent' (ie: NO CHILDREN) I had all the intentions in the world to do just that. I would play tea parties and dolls with the girls. Have a sword fight with the boys. Teach them all to cook. Lay out on a blanket in the backyard with the baby. We'd have traditions, and beautiful memories.

Why did it not work out that way? I grieve that time.

I've tried to do Emily's Tuesdays Unwrapped, because I think it is a beautiful, intentional thing, but at the moment, it just feels like when you get a HUGE present, and you unwrap it only to find it's just a brick.

I've tried to find the God in every moment as so many of my friends seem able to do... and I know He's there... I just ... oh... I don't know.

Sometimes it seems like I'm making it something it's not. Sometimes, it just... is.

Perhaps I should fake it til I make it?

Am I just tired? Emotionally and physically? Have I not made a big enough effort to make the best of the situation? Families our size live in smaller houses than I all over the world, and they still manage to keep it clean and have a loving family.

I bought a plaque when we first moved in here, because it was what I truly believed would happen while we were here... "Love grows best in little houses"

It mocks me now.

And I'll be leaving it here when we move.

At the moment, it's like I'm looking down the tunnel and I've finally see the light at the end. And I know that I only have a short way to go until I don't have to hold white knuckled to my sanity or the last shreds of determination not to become depressed. We will be moving the day after school lets out for the Christmas break, and it's almost like we are pining all our hopes of normalcy on the bigger block. We have reasons to do this... we never had the problems we do now when we lived in a bigger house etc etc... but I realise it also will depend a lot upon my own attitude, and the instillation of new routines, and the RE introductions of others... like eating at the dinner table (no room here for our 10 seater. We've eaten all but about 4 meals on the living room floor in the last 2 years.)

I don't think I'll ever be gushy. But it sure will be nice to be able to post funny things again, like I used to. That I'll be able to notice the little things more, because I won't be so distracted by the newly broken window, or the fists that are being thrown.

There hasn't been a lot of laughter the last year.

I'm really hoping that will change.

We will have 8 weeks after we move to find our rhythm before school begins. My "To Do List" for those weeks begins like this:

* Have a tea party with the girls
* Have a sword fight with the boys
* Lay on a blanket with the baby

Some days, all I can manage to pray is

"Be with me, Jesus"

And often, I don't even have the strength to create sound. Some days it's mouthed, others it's a whisper inside my head.

I am tempted to see this as a failing. That my prayers aren't beautiful prose, that they aren't sprinkled with verses and the promises of God.

But always, this story comes to mind:

"Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.'

"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.'

~Luke 18:10-13

God would much rather hear my hearfelt 4 word prayer than any long winded thing I spew out because it makes me look holy and sanctified, and satisfies some part of me that says I've just done it 'right'.

My little prayer carries many answers, and I hear them being softly whispered to me as I pray my desperate petition;

"I will never leave you or forsake you..."

"I am with you always..."

"Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, "This is the way; walk in it."..."

"I carry you, weary mother..."


It is such a comfort to know that whenever I manage to muster up this cry

"...God has surely listened and heard my voice in prayer. Praise be to God, who has not rejected my prayer or withheld his love from me!"

The new book for the Bloom Book club has been announced, and I can't wait to read it.



Angie and Jess said it their video release (that sounds so cool) that author Wayne Muller gives practical ways of creating a Sabbath. I hope so. I've found a lot of these book tend to be aimed at mothers that already have life pretty well together, and I, well... I so don't.

Our pastor is doing a series at church at the moment called "Servants & Stewards".

On Sunday, he said something like (because i didn't have a pen... or a notebook for that matter, I'll paraphrase)

"Quite often, we don't see growth in one area,
because we don't have another area in order"

Cue conscience prick.

I struggle very, very much with keeping a tidy home. I wish it to be a warm, restful, calm haven for my husband and family, but long ingrained requirements and definitions of clean and tidy make the task seem overwhelming.

My name is Jenny, and I suffer from CHAOS.

And a symptom of said CHAOS, is I don't feel I deserve a Sabbath.

I struggle to justify doing anything when so much is needed to be done in my home. I felt guilty the entire time I was sewing the other week. I have stacks of patterns I need to make up, but won't let myself, because I feel I don't deserve it. I don't go on outings with the children, because the time would be better spent tidying up the brothel I call a kitchen.

I don't have quiet time, I don't work out, I don't shower (hows that for honesty) because I feel that I'm being selfish to take time for me when that is time I should be using to clean.

Shitty thing about it, is that time I'm "saving" I don't actually do anything with, because I'm so intimidated by the sheer mountain of stuff that needs to be done. I hate only half doing things, so when I clean, it ALL must be done. And if I can't get it all done in my allotted time, then I won't even begin.

It's a vicious cycle.

If we're going to be brutally honest here, there are to major sins I see outworking in this area of my life.

Pride and Laziness

The way the pride comes into it is almost backwards. I want to have a clean house so it makes me look good. If I can't, then why bother?

Control issues, much?

Laziness... apathy... meh.

Meh.

That's my attitude most days. It's a constant fight in my head. I wake up wanting desperately to get into it and just get it done already. And then the kids will fight as they are waking up.

Meh.

I walk out to try and figure out breakfast, only to be confronted with every dish in the sink, dirty.

Meh.

The clothes I managed to wash last night when I did the uniforms have been dumped out of the dryer all over the floor.

Meh.

But it's not just meh. That's how I cope. Inside, I'm angry and guilty and feeling like a failure on so many levels it's not funny.

I'm thinking it's just going to take a concerted effort to overcome this battle I have in my mind... and my heart. I'm going to have to start making small changes, start new habits. Change my mindset.

Begin.

Do you have any tips that work for you
to keep your house under controll?

Come over to Bloom's new home and join us in pulling this book to bits, then sticking it all back together so it impacts our lives in practical ways.

I struggle to keep my house clean. Heck, sometimes it's not even sanitary.

I struggle to be a nice person and not yell at my kids in a really mean and even vicious way.

I struggle being a mother.

I struggle to like my three older children sometimes.

I struggle being a wife.

I struggle being a worship leader and not feel like a fraud.

I struggle with rage and outbursts that freak me out.

I struggle to fight off a selfish depression that I could quite easily give into.

I struggle to have close friendships that require me to be truly honest.

I struggle to read my bible.

I struggle to let Jesus really close.

I struggle with the Fruits of the Spirit, and wonder often if I really am saved, or I'd display these much better.

I struggle with sin.






*Previously posted on my Xanga

Well, not really. Lots of thoughts and ideas, but no way of knowing if I'll be able to write them down coherently. I may have to write some drafts first.

I don't really want this to be another "mom blog". I want people to know me, the way I think, the way I feel, the way I over analyze, how I can pick one word out of a bible verse and wonder why they used that one, because it makes it so much deeper... I want to be authentic, I want this place to be somewhere people enjoy being, I want it to be fun and light-hearted, but with depth...

I want people to know God resides here.

And yet, I don't know exactly how. I read some amazing blogs. People who write beautifully. Some people are side splittingly funny. Some make me think. Others make me cry every time. Some people do all of the above.

Who am I in this online community?

I have the upside of being, essentially, a foreigner... in that most people who I read are American. I use words that make them scratch their heads, I sound funny and eat weird food combinations. So there's that, but is it enough?

Where do I fit? What does my voice sound like here? What's my niche? Would staying as random and flit about-y as I am naturally work in blogland, or do I need to have a cohesive and coherent platform?

(Anyone else have "free to be me" running in their head about now?)

And of course, now I'm second guessing myself, and whether I just sound like an attention junkie. Why am I even blogging?

Because I love the people here. Truly. And I want to be a part of the awesome things I know God has planned for everyone involved. If there is anything that excites me to the point of wanting to jump out of my skin, it's the thought of what we here in the blogland twitterverse have coming up in the next few years. What is our God up to?? It seems that all of a sudden, without my even trying, in the last few months, I have come across, and fallen into relationship with some of the most amazing, authentic, God honouring, exciting, anointed, world shaking history makers, and I feel something shifting, moving, and preparing.

I want to be a part of it.

But it feels just out of my reach, because I just don't know what my part in it is.

I don't want to miss out.

The end of year school holidays have only a week and three days to go. I can finally see myself emerging from it with a sense of "what the hell just happened for the last 6 weeks?"

I think, had we a bigger back yard and/or I had the inclination to take all 5 children to the park on a semi regular basis, we probably would have sailed these waters better. However, I did not.

I'm ordering some new parenting books. One is by Garry Chapman of 5 Love Languages fame. It's titled The Family You've Always Wanted. The other is Have a New Kid by Friday, by Kevin Leman. This is the one I'm looking forward to the most. We have struggled so terribly with lying, hitting, and lack of care of possessions this holidays. To the point where a letter has been penned, and Santa will not be coming to the three older ones this year. And yes, we are sticking to our guns on this one. Each child received a board game and a card game this past Christmas. It had not been a week before they were destroyed or pieces lost. To say I completely lost my cool with them over that would be the understatement of the last 4 milleniums.

*sigh* You know, the only bad thing about having more children than is deemed 'normal' is that you really can't ask for help, because you get a few different responses, all centering around "well, it's your fault. You had this many children". So I don't ask. I flounder on in my own way, completely failing, and being so removed from my idea of what a mother should be that sometimes the lure to slide into a dark depression is ridiculously inviting. And I could you know. I hear it calling me. The temptation to completely give up because nothing I do is the right thing. Because if I see one more disparaging look over my children's behaviour I'll burst into tears right there. Beasuae in just about every book I've read, children are portrayed as these wonderful creatures who are only ever naughty in the sense that they might let some frogs loose from their pockets at church. They hardly ever fight or bicker, and if they do, it's all kissed and made up in half a page and off they go fishing. They do as they are told. They look after their things. They tidy up.

It's also bizarre to me, because I don't remember being like this as a child. I was fastidioulsly neat. I still have things that were gifted to me when was small. My children have nothing of sentimental value. They have destroyed pretty much everything that they have ever owned. I was delighted with all things pretty. I redecorated the girls bedroom the other day. You wouldn't even think, the way they behaved, that anything had been done differently. My kids have this air of expectation about them.... they expect things to be done for them. They expect to be given things. They expect their toys and books to be replaced. Quite frankly, it disgusts me.

I don't know how to combat this. No Santa presents this year is all very good, but they won't really get it until the day... and won't that be the makings of a joyous Christmas? SHould they not get birthday gifts or a party? I don't think they'd notice. They don't receive anything extra during the year, so we can't curtail any of that.

I just want them to get along. I want them to play nicely. I don't want to go through the day wanting to sob by the end of it and carve grooves in my concrete walls with my fingernails because all I hear after the greeting of "what's for breakfast" are screams, crying, yelling and fighting.

I want the family I always wanted. The one I thought just.... happened.