What I do for a living… September 13, 2007

My husband is a business man. One of the perks of his profession is business functions, some of which I attend with him. I have attended enough to know that the evening usually consists of a bunch of people exchanging business cards, drinking one to many margaritas, and telling everyone, “Call me!”. The popular question of the night is, “Sooo, what do you do?” Once I was having a wonderful conversation with a woman; when she asked the “question,” I courageously answered, “I take care of my children.” The conversation dropped dead. She mustered a few kind words before she ended the conversation and avoided me for the rest of the night like ‘mommy’ was something contagious.

Another function was looming in the horizon, and I found myself wondering how I was going to explain my chosen profession this time. I can just hear the conversation, “Well, I have changed upwards of 4 poppy diapers every day for the last 4 years, and I haven’t thrown up once.” I say in my coolest “I’m-better-than-you” voice. Maybe a little too sarcastic. I will have to save it for a really juicy moment.

We arrived at the business reception around 7 pm. I was wearing my best clearance-rack dress, with some great shoes. Ok, so they came from a clearance rack to, I’m a bottom feeder, I admit it. Anyway, we were all having a wonderful evening, and as usually happens, my husband and I were separated, and once again I found myself making conversation with complete strangers.

Upon leaving one nice conversation, I found myself trapped by the path of Alpha Woman. You know, the woman with the perfect hair, the perky breasts that have never been the source of someone’s six square meals a day, and the tight little waist that has not blown up to huge proportions and deflated three times, suffering from a serious set back of stretch marks. Her dress was immaculate and very expensive. So were her jewelry, her shoes, and her make-up. I’d be willing to put money on the fact that her underwear cost more that my whole ensemble that evening. After the proper exchange of names and hellos, she was off to the races, quickly trying to discern which one of us was more important, and she was in no mood for loosening. “Well, I work with some of the most prominent Architects in the state, Bla bla bla…” All I hear is, “I am SO important, don’t you just wanna be me?”

I politely nod and say, “Oh that is wonderful, how exciting for you…” and finally her ego simply can’t wait any longer. Seeing that she has not yet managed to intimidate me, and that I have not yet begun competing with her, she must know if I am her better, or if I am one of the other minions she has already crushed somewhere between her stilettos and her overpowering narcissism. I know what is coming, and it really is a no win question. Even if I tell her I am Empress of the World she will just shrug and say something like, “Well, I certainly had the opportunity to do that, but I am just really so much more fulfilled in what I am doing… bla bla bla.”

Finally she asks, “SO what do you do for a living?”

“My husband,” I look her square in the eye as the words spring from my mouth, almost without my control. She chokes on the ice she’s chewing. And as she’s coughing, I add, “and when he’s at work, I make The Best play dough snakes. You know, I’ve found the yellow stays so much softer than the blue. It must have something to do with the amount of pigment in the clay.”

“Well, nice to meet you,” she acting very shifty as she moves away, bumping a waiter, and spilling the rest of her margarita on herself. “Ooops, better clean this up, hope to see you later in the evening…” and like that she is gone.

I quietly smile, and make my way back to my husband, snuggling in close for a kiss. I only notice Alpha Woman twice more that night, both times on the very most opposite side of the room, nervously looking for me over her shoulder. Oh she’s right to think I am half insane. I probably am. Being a mom has a way of making you half crazy, but it also has a way of making things oh so clear at the same time. Salud!

September 13, 2007

If I had to illustrate my boys’ personalities, I would do so with the following:

1. The Captain… off exploring, and keeping the ship in line

2. The Adventurer… curiously running up to the edge of the cliff, and then cautiously calculating, until he makes a decision, and then it is all or nothing.

3. The Caboose… never one to be left behind, anxiously keeping up, my littlest guy often finds himself going in the same direction as his brothers, but not usually on the same track.

They are wonderful and sweet, and about as easy to keep up with as a fish in the water.

Building Cathedrals September 7, 2007

This was written by Nicole Johnson, who used to do this in the Women of Faith conferences.

I’m invisible…….
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” Obviously not. No one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I’m invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more:Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, “What time is it?” I’m a satellite guide to answer, “What number is the Disney Channel?” I’m a car to order, “Pick me up right around 5:30, please.” I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude — but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going … she’s going … she’s gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I cooked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, “I brought you this.” It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: “To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.” In the days ahead I would read — no, devour — the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals– we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, “Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.” And the workman replied, “Because God sees.”

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, “I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.” At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, “My mom gets up at 4 in the
morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand-bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.” That would mean I’d built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, “You’re gonna love it there.” As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

The Woman’s Dictionary For Men August 27, 2007

Forwarded to me from my father, this is funny, and sadly true! -H-

FINE: This is the word women use to end an argument when they feel they are right and you need to shut up. Never use “fine” to describe how a woman looks - this will cause you to have one of those arguments.

FIVE MINUTES: This is half an hour. It is equivalent to the five minutes that your football game is going to last before you take out the trash, so it’s an even trade.

NOTHING: This means “something,” and you should be on your toes. “Nothing” is usually used to describe the feeling a woman has of wanting to turn you inside out, upside down, and backwards. “Nothing” usually signifies an argument that will last “Five Minutes” and end with “Fine”

GO AHEAD (With Raised Eyebrows!): This is a dare. One that will result in a woman getting upset over “Nothing” and will end with the word “Fine”

GO AHEAD (Normal Eyebrows): This means “I give up” or “do what you want because I don’t care” You will get a “Raised Eyebrow Go Ahead” in just a few minutes, followed by “Nothing” and “Fine” and she will talk to you in about “Five Minutes” when she cools off.

LOUD SIGH: This is not actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A “Loud Sigh” means she thinks you are an idiot at that moment, and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you over “Nothing”

SOFT SIGH: Again, not a word, but a non-verbal statement. “Soft Sighs” mean that she is content. Your best bet is to not move or breathe, and she will stay content.

THAT’S OKAY: This is one of the most dangerous statements that a woman can make to a man. “That’s Okay” means that she wants to think long and hard before paying you back for whatever it is that you have done. “That’s Okay” is often used with the word “Fine” and in conjunction with a “Raised Eyebrow.”

GO AHEAD!: At some point in the near future, you are going to be in some mighty big trouble!

PLEASE DO: This is not a statement, it is an offer. A woman is giving you the chance to come up with whatever excuse or reason you have for doing whatever it is that you have done. You have a fair chance with the truth, so be careful and you shouldn’t get a “That’s Okay”

THANKS: A woman is thanking you. Do not faint! Just say you’re welcome.

THANKS A LOT: This is much different from “Thanks.” A woman will say, “Thanks A Lot” when she is really ticked off at you. It signifies that you have offended her in some callous way, and will be followed by the “Loud Sigh.” Be careful not to ask what is wrong after the “Loud Sigh,” as she will only tell you “Nothing”

Dirty Tubs… August 16, 2007

Oh yes, 3 lovely little boys DO equal dirty tubs! Not to mention scary toilet cleaning adventures, and some deep knowledge of exactly what will get those stains out! But somehow the cleaning of dirty tubs has alluded me, and I need help! Please, please, I need to know, once the dirt is off my boys, how can I get it unstuck from my tub?!?

Screw Drivers and Wicker Chairs… February 1, 2007

Well, when you add a two-year old to the equation, this could potentially be the shortest post ever. Maybe that is why my parents didn’t buy anything nice until we all moved out. Could make a strong case for home furnishings made from cardboard and heavy plastic. I really liked that chair.

Falling Short January 20, 2007

The number one most difficult thing about being a mom is this: I have one job in all the world, and every single day, I fall short. Some times my failure is down right ugly. Sometimes it slowly wears and drags at me, leaving me worn out, deflated and even depressed.

In his book, “My Utmost for His Highest,” Oswald Chambers asks, “Have I heard what He says?” He has said, ‘I will never leave nor forsake you.’ So that we may boldly say, ‘the Lord is my helper I will not fear, what can man do to me?’ With great shame I realize that quite often I place my own power above God’s and failure is my very next step.”

But even the tragedy of my own deep sin is not beyond God’s power. It teaches me my utter and total need for Him, His grace, His forgiveness, and shows strong His mercy in my own life. And my ample sin becomes daily opportunity to teach my children about the character of God.

First, it is all ready evident in their young lives that I am not God. I would love to be the perfect mother, but I am not sure it would do them any real good. There is so much more they can learn about God when I am transparent with my sin, and when I ask for their forgiveness. Mommy will fall short, she does every day, but there is one who will never leave nor forsake us, and this where my trust must lay, and where I pray the Holy Spirit will guide my dear children.

The upside to a cashless economy… January 18, 2007

One day (before forsook my dignity and became a mini van momma), I had the grand idea to wash the car, while my boys played inside. Tobias was barely two, Conner was 3 1/2, and Ethan was negative 4 months. They had a marvelous time “driving” and playing together. We happily stood in the driveway, waving to Daddy as he drove to work in the shiny, clean car. But as he turned the corner, he honked the loudest, rudest honk I’ve ever heard, right as an elderly man was walking by. A couple minutes later, my husband was on the phone, calling to tell me that one of our young drivers had apparently shoved some coins into the steering column. Every time he turned right, the coins activated the horn, causing it to honk uncontrollably. That quick hose-down turned into the most expensive car wash I’ve ever had. When we finally got it fixed, the bill was about a hundred dollars. Imagine, $100 to retrieve 12 cents.

Joy January 15, 2007

It was a Monday. Not that this fact has any significance, but it was a Monday. We’d played games, watched a cartoon, done 3 loads of laundry, changed the sheets, and made it half way through a megalith stack of papers. The family room was strewn with random books, a gigantic pile of old magazines, which my boys were cutting into tiny pieces. There was an overflowing pile of laundry on the couch, and a vast array of paper stacks. Sprinkled all about the mess were little yellow chunks of play dough. I had spent 24 minutes on hold while making mac and cheese, only to be hung up on by the “Customer Representative.” He probably heard the mayhem in the background and decided he’d really rather not take my call. But I digress.

We gobbled up lunch, just in time for nap time. But half an hour passed, and found my littlest guy fed and sleeping. My bigger boys (2&4) were having a marvelous time scooping water in and out of a pan in the sink. I was making chocolate chip cookies, only because my chocolate craving was so fierce that I was about to eat the whole bag of chips, and I figured it was now or never on the cookies. An hour later, my boys were washed and changed into their Spiderman suits, and we danced around the living room, waiting for the cookies to cool. We munched and laughed, and nap time finally arrived, with out any argument, 2 hours later than it normally did.

“Oh, how wonderful for you,” you might sarcastically say. But I’m not quite done.

I have spent parts of the last 4 years wondering if it would ever get easier. There have been a long succession of days that could not end soon enough. Would my house ever stay clean for just one whole day? Would it ever get easier? Would I ever not be so exhausted?

No. The day of the clean house has not yet arrived. In fact, I am wondering why I thought it was so messy when I had only one little infant sitting quietly in his seat. If only I had seen the future…

Yes. It has gotten easier. Yes, I have gotten less exhausted. It is a gradual shift, where the unbelievable becomes a normal day, when the mayhem is unwittingly transformed into peace, and suddenly it isn’t so hard anymore. Ironic, I know. I have more children, more tasks, more responsibility, and yet there is a certain peace that God has transposed into our lives. There is a joy sometimes quite, sometimes much more pronounced, that has come to fill my heart with deep love and contentment. And so it is, that there is a day that comes when nap time is almost a hindrance to all the fun that is had, and no longer a desperate attempt for an hour of sanity. Know, in the midst of seeming despair, that joy will come, and with it, a deep enjoyment of your children.

How screaming babies lead to short shorts and no underware. January 15, 2007

It was a day. Ethan, 2 months old, cried the whole 90 minutes it took me to make one of Rachel Ray’s 30 minute meals. Apparently her time table doesn’t account for screaming infants. Conner (4), and Tobias (2) were off having a great adventure, getting into all sorts of mischief. As the oven timer went off, I called my husband to tell him dinner was ready, and ask what time we should pick him up. “How about 5:45?” He asked. “Ok… what time is it right now?” I asked. “4:45,” he replies. Yes it really is one of those days. I was so eager for it to be over I had sped it up. Thankfully he realized this, and we agreed to meet at the Children’s Science museum in 15 minutes. “Quick boys, we’re going to Explora! Change your clothes and grab your shoes, I’ll meet you in the van!” And we were off. I threw foil over our dinner and launched the double stroller into the van. Ethan kept screaming until I buckled him into his car seat. Then the perfect angle. Who knows. Someone had turned on all the lights in the house. Someone needed shorts. I couldn’t find my shoes… finally we did make it to the Museum, about 20 minutes late. With all the energy in the world we BURST out of the van and into Explora.

The lady at the front desk looked a little funny as we careened through the doors. Me: No make-up, a cock-eyed ponytail, and a top that really should have been changed. Conner’s shirt was not only inside out, but backwards. Even better still, he had put 2-month old Ethan’s pants on, and was wearing them as shorts. I have no idea how they buttoned. Tobias had on clothes that were all his, and amazingly they were all going in the right direction. However at some point in the afternoon, he had shed his underwear and put on a pair of oversized shorts, that kept falling down to reveal a very nice round little bottom. Ethan, the man behind the insanity, was quite content, happy as a lark to be out of the house and buckled into the stroller. Conner and Tobias were also the picture of happiness, Conner with the pants he hadn’t worn in 3 1/2 years, and Tobias, with his waistband in his fist, or around his ankles, should he forget. And really, I was happy too. A laughing, frumpy somewhat dirty, wreck of a mother, having the time of my life with my sweet little boys. Yes, I am a mother. I can always tell on days like these.