Mothering Mum

Earlier this year, I did a blog series on 'Mothering'; interviewing mums at their various stages of life and various stages of mothering. Some of those posts have taken a while to be added to the series. Here is one of them, from a friend of mine, who is caring for her own mother.

I'm not my Mum's mother, I want to hold her in high regard, respect her and protect her dignity. However, I do feel that some of the true mothering skills given to me by God, are probably used to their full when I’m caring for her.
 
I’ve developed skills, while caring for mum. Skills like compassion, listening, physical touch, warmth, giving time, being patient, meeting basic needs, advocating, encouragement, repeating things over and over again. All these things I'm meant to do with my own kids too. However, I'm more careful to exercise them with mum, and more acutely aware of them.  I recently had a job interview and one of my daughters helped me prepare. She spontaneously listed some of my strengths and abilities. “These are all the things I see in you in the way you are with nana”, she said.
 
This encouraged me greatly as it hasn't always been that way. My mum was finally diagnosed with Vascular Dementia with Alzheimer’s maybe two years ago. This has affected her memory and not her character which is a blessing. For the past four years, she has suffered with Lymphoma requiring Chemotherapy and frequent hospital visits. Just over a year ago, mum suffered a stroke leaving her with a dense right sided weakness and complete paralysis of her right arm. Where she used to be fully mobile, she is now confined to a chair/wheelchair and needs help transferring and with all her basic needs. 

The dementia diagnosis was difficult. We all knew it and she feared it. She got so upset that I had taken her to the memory clinic. She got very angry with me, asking if I thought she was mad, and if she was going to get locked away. It was a distressing time. I remember having to be straight with her. I talked to her about the effects on her brain which in no way reflected who she was or how we all felt about her. She needed constant reassurance.  During this time and the previous few years, she would ring me frequently. She was always apologetic and needing reassurance about tablets which she couldn't remember taking, or fears about missing hospital appointments or anxiety when she had lost something. A lot of the 'care' was done over the phone and was very repetitive - she would often ring minutes later forgetting she had called and we would have the same conversation, like ground hog day!

Surprisingly I often felt/feel very patient during these episodes but recognise that I didn't years beforehand. When I was in my teens/early twenties I recall getting very frustrated with mum when she couldn't remember things - I felt she wasn't in my world. Looking back I know that the Dementia was affecting mum. When I was a child, I recall watching a documentary with mum about Alzheimer's and she alluded to the fact she had fears this would happen to her as there were already memory problems.
 
I remember a poignant time when my dad became seriously ill with cancer and was admitted to hospital. Mum collapsed. I was staying to look after her overnight and found her unconscious in the bathroom, which was frightening. I was in my twenties and remember being acutely aware of the feeling that I had no-one to care for me. She needed caring for too now. It was a shocking time and I felt full of grief. It was like I was losing two parents.  There have been periods of grief all along, like longing for a grandparent to be there for my kids, potentially losing the family home and longing for emotional and practical support that just hasn't been there. The most recent sense of grief has been seeing my mother unable to walk anymore and adjusting to the fact she now needs everything doing for her. 
That's been hard. 

God showed me probably a year ago two things that were to change those longstanding feelings. One day, I was acutely aware of God having very large wings and I felt them covering me. I felt this represented a mother's love; He was meeting this need.  It made me feel secure. I was reminded of Psalm 91; hiding in the shadow of His wings and was also reminded of a time with one of my little girls. We saw a mother duck protecting her young ; we counted 14 little emerging ducklings which had been hiding under her wings. I felt God ask, "how big do you think my wings are in comparison to this little duck?" This was enormously comforting.
 
Serving my mum has at times taken up a lot of time.  My kids have found it hard when they've not had my full attention, particularly when I was paying regular hospital visits to mum several times a week.  My husband and I would 'tag team' it.  As soon as he got in from work I would leave.  We had quite a long period of time where we did not have a meal altogether.  I had to advocate for my mum when she did not get the best treatment and be a voice for her when she did not want to be put in a nursing home. We got the kids praying but sometimes I just wanted it all to stop. Ministry work took a back burner and I found myself saying 'no' to more. But at the same time, wondering if it was wrong spending so much time with mum, instead of serving church.

During this time I read James 1v27 which impacted and changed my thinking. “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.” I felt it was time to ‘put my religion into practice’.  In serving my mum, I was doing God's will and exercising His love for her. This has genuinely helped me feel joyful about having the privilege of being able to serve her at this stage of her life. I help her mainly emotionally with reassurance, with her medical needs and practically with housework.
 
My husband, kids and I are determined to help her enjoy herself by taking her out in the wheelchair for day trips. She enjoys these days even though she's often forgotten them the next day. But we all remember them and I believe this strengthens our family and increases the bond between us and her. Although this whole scenario isn't what I would have planned in my head (easy to romanticise what family should be/look like), I know this is a precious time and don't want to miss out on God's blessing on us and on her through it all. I have learnt a lot through my mum who has shown strength in so many ways during these seasons. She has a wicked sense of humour. My husband trying to manoeuvre her into the car, can be hilarious. She often ends up giggling so much we are unable to sit her up. She is so determined always to appreciate the little things in life that could just pass her by. She's amazing.
 
My relationship with my mum is tender and precious. Whilst I'm not responsible for all my mum's needs, I am put here by God to help meet some of them. It grows in love more and more all the time (both ways).  She says I light up her day and I say to her that I love her and love spending time with her. I'm grateful for this as we once were not able to communicate so well in that way. It's a blessing to be her daughter and I thank God for her input into my life.

Mocha Moments

There was a moment last week, where the 'other pink toothbrush', had decided to start the day early. Maybe she wanted to check out the sun rise. Maybe she wanted some mummy time. Maybe she thought that I simply sleep too much. So she was up early, which meant she was a little grumpy as the morning wore on. Grumpy babies aren't always easy for us mums. A lot of the time, she just potters around while the four blue ones entertain her. But on this day, she wasn't pottering, she was sticking. Sticking like a grumpy, pink magnet on my hip for the whole morning, needing constant carrying.

Morning times in this household don't always ooze with calm and ease. Sometimes I'm organised and I do the lunches the night before, but the other four days of the school week, I don't. I wish I did. I wish I was that mum. We all know a version of her; 'The organised mum'. She's a wonder to behold. She's dressed in clean clothes, with washed hair. She probably got up early to pray and no doubt she's wearing matching underwear. She always knows if there is bread in the bread bin and fruit in the fruit bowl. 'Time' and 'Patience' are her best friends. I do love her. I'm happy not to be her however. I have other gifts and I'll roll with them. And I can wash my hair another day.

After the constant reminder of "teeth, shoes, jumper, teeth, shoes, jumper", I breathed a sigh of relief as we finally bundled out of the front door. I knew that my grumpy little red head would rest her eyes as we walked to school. And therefore I had a plan. I would drop the blue ones off to their various classrooms, and then I would pop over to The Hub; (a community cafe next door to the school), and I would drink a Cherry Mocha. Mmm... And as she slept for an hour, I would breathe, and think and write in my prayer journal, and take the time to connect with God. That is what I needed after my busy morning.

So we walked to school; they swung on branches, ran ahead, dragged on the buggy, hid behind the same wall that they hide behind every single day. They stopped to talk to a cat. I shouted out to avoid the dog poo. They shoved their brothers, which made them laugh. They shoved their brothers, which made them cry. They were all dropped off and I headed to The Hub. The pink bundle was still and quiet, so I ordered my Mocha, sat down and got my notebook out and breathed.

But then she looked at me, spat her dummy out, arched her back and carried on her grumpiness. Grrrrrr!!!! She had not followed the plan. And now I couldn't talk to God with my free, spare hour. As grumpy as I was starting to feel, I knew I had a window. I knew I had a ham sandwich in my bag, and therefore I had about three minutes to breath, think and write as she ate it. Not quite the planned hour, but I wrote in my journal and I felt God remind me that the 'hour planned' wasn't my real life, and that He had plenty of time for me, all the time, right in the middle of my real life. 

 

He reminded me that He had been there, ready to listen in the dark, cold hours of the morning. He had been there on the crazy that is the school run, and He was with me now. But the 'now' bit, the quiet bit, wasn't necessarily the bit where I needed His presence the most. I needed to come to Him when they couldn't find their shoes, when they couldn't find their teeth (it's another story) and when the pink one needed carrying. I need Him to carry me, right in the middle of it all, as well as enjoy Him in the Mocha moments. 

"...And Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age".
Matthew 28v20

Status Update

I love a bargain. I always have a scout round the reduced aisle and see what I can make a meal out of. My mother has taught me well. I particularly love when it's cereal - perfectly fine just in a dented box. The husband always knows when I serve him something expensive, that I'm secretly proud of myself, for spending very little on the product. Sure it may have an extra fizz to it, or smell a little whiffy, but hey it was cheap, so bring on the Great Asda bake off.

I recently found fish and mash potato sea shapes on offer in the frozen aisle. IN THE FROZEN AISLE! I mean, that doesn't even need cooking on the day of purchase. Such a result for this mum and her budget. I may have emptied the little section of 50p bargains. Those and some ice lollies for 25p. Therefore my little treasures have had a few 'sea shape meals' over the last couple of weeks. I got to five meals before one of the boys asked why this was all they eat now.

I decided to ramp up the meal on my last use of the sea shapes, with an actual seaside scene. I washed and Dettol-ed some buckets, spades and the kitchen table. I made some couscous sandcastles. I covered the table in dry couscous and added sweetcorn and pasta for a sand effect. Finally, I tipped the sea shapes on top. Voila! I called the boys in and they just starred for a moment, before getting a spade and digging in. They're not shocked by me anymore, it seems.

 

This was definitely one of those good mummy moments. You know, the kind of moments where you're happy to whip the phone out and take a picture of what's happening, and post it for the world to see. I often do that, (I hope I'm not the only one) I share the things that show the positive, happy moments that I have with my kids. And I'm thankful that there are many. I do think it's good to celebrate these things with other mums. I love seeing what other mums have done with their kids, because there was a moment captured, a moment enjoyed, a moment to smile about with that mum. But the reality is, that a lot of my life as a mum, is either mundane or difficult and usually not worth a public share or a 'like'.

The thing is, I don't tell my virtual friends when I'm stressed, angry or sad, I tell my real ones. This can however, lead to a one-sided view of my life on social media, which isn't always healthy. (Although neither is grumbling for the world to see). But I did think about what my updates would look like if I showed all aspects of my life. I'd be taking photos of a child running off, a red tantrummed face or two, definitely a weekly fighting picture, some naked bottoms, a playground strop, a child gagging on their dinner, and for last week, I'd have to add a status which said, "Today I shouted at my children and as they burst out crying, I had a go at them for that too, then I stormed out and slammed doors." #mummylosestheplot  #mummycallsdaddy #mummysayssorry



 When it comes to relating to God, I mustn't treat Him as one of my Facebook friends. I must be real and honest with Him; sharing my good mummy moments with Him, but also the sin in my life, the hidden stuff which I would never want to post about. He is much more personal with me. He doesn't just 'like' or 'dislike' something I do or say. He knows that all my words, actions and even social posts either give Him glory or grieve His heart. He is passionate and wants an intimate relationship with me. He is happy to share couscous sandcastles with me, but if this is all I share with Him, then I am missing out on some of the best parts of my relationship with Him.
In 1 John 1 it says that, "If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us."

 

iBroke

A couple of years ago a friend generously bought me an iPad for my birthday. She wanted to read more about the 'ol pink toothbrush, and therefore she said I needed to write more. I'll never forget the husband's face as I unwrapped it, and he was quick to appreciate the "what's mine is yours" part of married life. My iPad has been a wonderful source of entertainment for the family. The boys have found village building games, battle games, and running quickly games. Games with birds dressed as Star Wars characters and games with clans who clash. They're all the same game but with different characters as far as this mum can see. We've added some maths games and a copy of Warhorse, because boys do seem to love combining the technical side of life with learning. And then there's the husband's 'Garage Band', where he can live out his youth by pretending he's in a band called No Direction or Undecided or something similar. He plays every instrument in the band; such talent.

The iPad has also been a great training tool. We've used it to teach about time wasting, priorities and idols. As well as the classic lesson "Screens do not mean you can ignore your family". The iPad is regularly used to teach selflessness, rather than taking turns. We tend not to go for 'fair' in this house. Instead we remind the little people about Jesus' selfless love, and how the cross wasn't fair, but tipped heavily in our favour. However, the iPad's biggest training ground was for me and the husband.

As the family arrived home in the car, one of the boys asked if they could carry the iPad in. The husband explained that they could, but they were to hold it tightly and not run with it. As we walked towards the house, we saw said child running with the iPad, tripping with the iPad, and dropping the iPad.

We scrunched up our eyes, hoping to turn back time, but we both knew. We just knew, as we watched the iPad slide along the concrete. That beautiful smooth screen was now shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. A spontaneous double yell of  "Get to your room" was heard all down the street, as we silently entered the house. The husband was due to go out, but he couldn't leave the child up in his room, wondering if he had a future.

So after a calming down period, the husband went upstairs and spoke to the child in question. The child was very remorseful, very apologetic and knew that he had done wrong. Of course, it was the disobedience which needed addressing. The iPad's demise was a consequence of disobedience. The husband dealt with the incident, while I nursed the poorly iPad in the kitchen. When the husband came back downstairs, he explained to me that our son was still alive and that he had not simply said sorry to his dad, but that he had truly repented. His dad forgave him. The boy had hugged him, smiled and walked away.

We both realised that we were miffed at how freely our son had walked away. We wanted him to be more guilt ridden, to have his tail between his legs, to dwell more on his sin, for it to affect him longer. God spoke to us in that moment. The iPad was still broken, and there would be a cost to fix it. But the sin had been dealt with, the boy had said sorry and his father had forgiven him. And that's really how it is with us. Our sin and its consequences have caused us to be broken, and it cost Jesus His life to fix it. But when we come to Him truly repentant, He is quick to forgive, and we can walk away guilt free, secure in the father's unconditional love.

It's taken a while to blog about this one, because it just seemed so unfair that our boy was so free from the incident after he'd been forgiven. But we tend not to go for 'fair' in this house. Instead, as well as reminding the little people, we remind the big people about Jesus' selfless love, and how the cross wasn't fair, but tipped heavily in our favour.

"God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." 2 Corinthians 5v21

All Day Long

Wow my last post was a month ago, what's that about? Ah yes, it was August. A time for laying in, staying in pyjamas, lazy DVD days, doing 'whatever we please whenever we please' days and generally just chilling out. Plus of course, the actual reality of 6 weeks with all 5 kids, all day, every day, from sun rise to sun set, every minute of every hour...

It's a funny mix, the summer holidays. I love not being in a routine. I'm never late anywhere, because there is no where to be. I love just letting the kids play and eat freely, while still being in my pyjamas, (and if possible, still under a duvet). I love playing with them and seeing them and hearing them, and just them being around me all day long. But the other side to it, is that I see them and hear them all day long. They're around me all day long. Like ALL day long. They need food all day long, they need entertaining all day long, they need a mediator, an arts and crafts specialist, a Lego builder, a trainer, a bottom wiper, a chef, an activities coordinator, a law enforcement officer, a tone changer, a friend, a listener, a perspective changer, a teacher, a hugger... all day long.
In a nutshell, they need me all day long.

They don't seem to get the 'August memo', that us mums can just take a break. No more uniforms to wash, book bags to go through, newsletters to read, lunch boxes to empty, reading books to slowly and painfully sit through. No more Chip or Biff or Kipper! No more homework or school runs or time restraints. Just a nice relaxing month or so off....

Older, wiser mums say things like 'it goes so quickly' and 'you can't get that time back' and 'they're only little for a short time'. Us younger, 'not so wise yet' mums think August itself is the slowest month in history and the little ones have been little forever, and life as we know it, will never change. We will learn I'm sure, and we in time will hear ourselves imparting that same wisdom to mums who can't quite take it on board yet..

 It seems you can't quite take the month off from the privilege of being a mum. There they are every day, all day long. They come with their wants and needs and delights and conversations. With their questions and heartaches, and curiosity and repetitiveness. With their joys and disappointments. With their squabbles and achievements. With their grazes and in this house, with their woodlice. And yes they need me all day long. It's what I'm here for.  


Of course, there's the realisation that I need my Heavenly Father all day long too. I need Him all the time, every day. He doesn't tire of me or take time off from loving me. He loves seeing me and hearing me all day long. He loves just being around me. He's waiting to hear my questions, my heartaches, my disappointments, my joys and my squabbles. He'd be totally engaged if I wanted to show Him a woodlouse. And He's also ready and waiting to give me the strength and grace I need to do this mothering malarky all day long, every day, from sun rise to sun set, every minute of every hour...

"I can do all this through him who gives me strength."
Philippians 4v13

"The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.
 He fulfils the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them."
Psalm 145v18-19

4am

Sometimes it's 4am and you find yourself awake. Awake, giving out Calpol to the one who hurt his arm and knee in two spectacular falls today, and a midnight treat combination of Calpol, milk and cuddles for the littlest snuffly one. And yes you're tired and yes you're working out how many minutes you've got left on your pillow before either the sun comes up or the sons get up, but you're also very grateful.

Right now, that's me. I'm grateful. Grateful that my house is full of sleeping children. And grateful that my bed holds a sleeping husband. Grateful that I have a bed, and grateful that my tummy is full (although a midnight cereal treat for myself might just add to the gratefulness). Grateful for this big messy house. And grateful for a loving Heavenly Father who would bless me with all these things.

It's not even been one of those days where you view the world through rose-tinted glasses; the days where everything goes well - when there's healthy food in the house, love in the house, creative activities or even self initiating homework in the house and of course peace and harmony in the house. (I've heard these days exist). It's been a day of all the usual joys of motherhood; tantrums, discipline, poo seeping through vests, Calpol, grazed elbows, baby eating unknown items, only one child bathed, wiping bottoms, tears, laughter, discipline, eating dry cereal, hurtful words, hugs, iPad arguments, woodlice, dinosaurs, superheros, mum doing well, and mum doing badly moments. It's been hard work today, relentless heart training and tone correcting (mine as well as theirs). And a game of Snakes & Ladders which I genuinely thought would never end and would have rather given the kids money than carry on playing!

But for some reason, at 4am, I'm just simply so grateful. I'm mindful of my friends who would love to be up at this time, cuddling pink bundles or comforting wounded blue ones. I'm mindful of my friends who would love to have a sleeping, slightly snoring spouse, in their bed, taking far too much of the duvet. And I'm mindful of my friends who are going through life and don't know what it is to have God's love and His complete, wonderful forgiveness. I'm mindful of my friends who haven't found a friend in Jesus and haven't been blown away by what He did for them on the cross.

"Rejoice always,  pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus". 1 Thessalonians 5v16-18

Heavenly Father, thank you. Thank you that I know your love and forgiveness. Thank you for your son and all He did for me, by dying on the cross. Thank you for the husband. Thank you for one, two, three, four and five. Just thank you x

School Report; Could Try Harder

Drawing near to the end of term, not only brings on severe cases of End-of-Term-Itis, it also brings the delight that is 'Non-Competitive Sport's Day', teacher present buying and of course school reports. Sport's day; I just won't comment on, apart from to say that I jolly well cheered hard for my son as he didn't compete against anyone. Teacher present buying; I sent the kids into school as spies on a mission. They had to find out what their teachers and teaching assistants liked, but in a more subtle way than "What do you want my mum to buy you?" Restaurant vouchers, clothes vouchers, posh chocolate and alcohol seemed to cover everyone. 

And then there's the school reports and final chats with the teachers. You kind of want to stroke the teachers, say 'Well Done' to them, get them a duvet and let them sit in a darkened room somewhere. But instead you ask them to explain what the numbers and letters mean and how well your child has done and what they could improve on. You have to be able to read 'Teacher Code', when analysing the reports. Knowing my dear boys, I add my own interpretations when I read "lively and outgoing", "a great sense of humour" and "contributes well with regard to Christianity and sharing his own experiences".

There are joys too, when I read 'personable', 'shows respect', 'polite', and 'team player', as I know that some of that is down to training. You know, the every day stuff that you train and train and train and train, until eventually it shows up on a school report or even better 'out in public'. They need to work harder at some things, especially the dull old details of spelling and punctuation, and a little less silliness here and there. There's always ways for them to improve their learning and there's things to congratulate them on.

I asked the boys to do me a school report; how well I've done this term as a mum. A brave and stupid task. I didn't bribe them with snacks as they answered. But I was in a relatively stable emotional state as I listened at the door. Apparently I'm doing well at 'serving my husband and children, making meals, disaplining (Okay, so the teacher may be right about the spelling) and being a mum'. I can live with that. But apparently I do need to 'shout less and work on my gentleness, and self-control'. Ha ha how perceptive these little people are. Can't keep much from them. A fair assessment I'd say.

We had a good chat about the reports. I explained that I was just as interested in the character bits as much as the results and grading. Got to love working on the 'heart stuff'. And we spoke about God's view of us; how we were His enemies; evil sinners who were far away from Him. And how He loved us when we were like that, and how Jesus' death on the cross meant that we can now be His adopted sons and daughters and come close to Him.

We chatted too, about how perfect our Heavenly Father is compared to us. He doesn't need to work on His self-control or silliness. He doesn't shout at us and I reckon His spelling is outstanding too. There is always going to be heart stuff for God to work on in us. He wants us to be more like Jesus and live more of a life of worship to Him. One day we will all have to stand before Him as He reads every detail of our report to us. Gulp! And then He will accept us in or turn us away, based on whether we accepted Jesus' and lived for Him, or not. It's good to ask Him what areas He'd like us to glorify Him in more. Thankfully though, He never writes 'Could Try Harder' over us. Instead in His grace, He writes over our reports, in blood-red letters, 'Accepted', 'Redeemed', 'Restored' and 'Forgiven'. That's surely one to frame and tell everyone about!

"Blessed are those
whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sins are covered."
Romans 4v7                                        

"A person may think their own ways are right,
but the Lord weighs the heart.

 To do what is right and just is more acceptable to the Lord than sacrifice." Proverbs 21v2-3

End-of-Term-Itis

Looking at my latest blog entry, I see that it was quite some time ago. I could happily sit here and tell you that's it's because I've been busy with life; the kids, the husband, the friends, the church etc. I could say I've been so busy loving all the above people that I couldn't possibly prise myself away from the fun and training and imparting, in order to write. But that would be what we call a lie.

Two of the boys have come down heavily with a dose of  end-of-term-itis; they're not just tired, they are beyond tired. And they are hot and sweaty and grubby and tearful and cross and fed up and overwhelmed and over emotional, and I totally get where they are coming from! I can relate to this terrible disease. It's one that really knocks you down, and vitamins don't shift it, just long periods of sleep, which is hard to come by these days. When a mum is suffering with end-of-term-itis, and she comes into contact with two little people suffering from it too, it's not a pretty sight. So my parenting game plan has been on the defensive; 'react to what they're doing and just try to survive the match'. Somewhere over the last few weeks, I have forgotten that my job is to love them and train them, and I have re written my job description as 'Just get through 'til bedtime'. I've been scared to parent them, knowing that they are just going to kick off and walk away from me or they're going to burst out crying. Or I am.

Now I know that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. But knowing it and living in the truth of it are two different things. I haven't been coming to Him in the kind of way which seeks Him, and spends time with Him and reads His word, or even just falls on Him humbly, sincerely asking for help. For some reason, I have decided that I can tackle this end-of-term-itis without God's help. Tackling anything with a strong burst of pride, is never going to cure anything. I just know I can't do the parenting, the wife-ing and the serving, without walking closely with Jesus. And I can't blog either. I can't write about grace when Im not living in it.

Last Tuesday, I had one of those 'sob-in-your-breakfast-bowl-I-can't-do-this-anymore' moments in front of the family. They graciously prayed for me, and then the husband left for Berlin for a few days. (Ha ha ha...silently rock in a darkened room). It was then that end-of-term-itis was either going to wipe this whole family out, and the husband was going to come home to a mess, or this mum was going to ask God to coach her, and change the parenting game plan to being on the offensive; 'plan beforehand and win this match', which mainly involved prayer, and water balloons. And of course, He did coach me. But more importantly I remembered that He also substituted Himself for me, and that it is by His grace I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Psalm 145 has been my friend during end-of-term-itis. Remembering what my coach is like, has helped me play the parenting game much better. 

 "The Lord is gracious and full of compassion, Slow to anger and great in mercy. The Lord is good to all, and His tender mercies are over all His works. The Lord upholds all who fall, and raises up all who are bowed down." Psalm 145v8,9,14

May The Force Be With You

One of my boys was feeling a little melancholy the other evening. He had had a couple of days off from school, due to being sick and running a high temperature, and he was feeling nervous to go back. He couldn't quite explain his thoughts or feelings, he just felt a bit sad and teary and his head was full of sad thinking. He has felt like this before, where his mind has doubted our love, and it all just 'feels sad', even though he's actually pretty secure in our love for him. How often do I doubt my Father in Heaven's love, without reason to?

So we have a new strategy when his thoughts are a bit negative and glum; we've combined the wisdom of The Bible with the imagery of Star Wars, as you do. After all, his name is an Old Testament prophet and a Jedi Knight....The force is strong with this one!

We looked at the second part of 2 Corinthians 10v5;

"We pull down every proud obstacle that is raised against the knowledge of God; we take every thought captive and make it obey Christ".

 



To take something captive, suggests that it is an actual 'action' we need to do, not just something which happens. So we wondered where we could lock these negative thoughts up; where there was a good prison. And we decided that Jabba the Hutt's palace was a good place to keep something locked up. So that's what we do, we grab each of these untrue thoughts and we shove them in Jabba's captivity.

 

The funny element tends to help break him out of his melancholy. And it helps our very visual boy, see these thoughts being locked up. Now I'm aware that this verse is actually about Paul defending God and the arguments which were being raised against Him, and I have explained this to my son. He has a few friends at school who don't think God is real, so he does know what this verse means. But I think it is important to train him to take both kinds of thoughts captive.

 

We then encourage our boy to fill his mind with things "which are good and that deserve praise: things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and honourable" as it suggests in Philippians 4. In other words, we encourage him to think about God before he sleeps, to think about all the good things God has done for him and how much God loves him, and we pray for God's help. I needed to do this myself this week. I found myself dwelling in untruths, and I was left feeling glum and full of self pity as a result. So I wrote a page of Truths about God in my journal; He is my hiding place, my strength, my refuge etc and it helped shift my thoughts off of me and back to my Heavenly Father's love, Jesus' victory on the cross, and the awesome power of the Holy Spirit at work in me, which afterall, is always going to be the best Force to have with me.

See what I did there?! 

You Are So Annoying

I was blown away by Charlie yesterday. He was ever so selfless, over and over again, when frankly his little sister just didn't deserve it. I was impressed with how he didn't tire of it, apart from the odd eye raise. I guess it might be easier to be consistently selfless when you're a cartoon. You see, Lola, the little sister, spent all her money at the Zoo. She also ate all her lunch and she used all the film on her camera. But her big brother Charlie helped her out. He gave her some of his lunch, he let her use his camera and he bought her a cuddly seal at the zoo shop, even though it meant he couldn't get the book he had been saving for.

Of course, my boys knew that they weren't going to get away with just watching it, without a little 'voice over teaching point' from mum. I pointed out what I could see happening, and they nodded, either to humour me or because the 'selfless' thing is one we plug a lot in this family. Towards the end of the programme, Lola had learnt from her brother's example. She ended up saving her money and giving it to Charlie, who was able to buy an even better book for himself. I spoke to the bigger boys about how they can be an example for their younger brothers to copy. And I acknowledged that younger siblings can be annoying, like Lola was. I  seem to remember poking my big brother constantly until he would whip me with a wet tea towel, and then get in trouble for it. Younger siblings just help people grow in love and patience!

After watching it, one of the younger siblings explained that he felt his older brothers didn't love him much because they don't give him a lot of time. I asked his older brothers how they could respond to this. One of them took the teaching point and put it into practise. The other one ignored the whole thing to the point where I'm not even sure he knows he has brothers. Anyway, off they went upstairs to play together. I encouraged the older one, reminding him that he was imitating Jesus, not just Charlie; that Jesus is the most selfless person there is. That He gave up His own life for us. He got it. Point made.

A few minutes in and the younger sibling sought to test his older brother's newly found kindness. I heard shouts of "No, no, please don't touch that bit of Lego, please, NO NO. Ggggrrrrr, YOU ARE SO ANNOYING". As I got upstairs, I found a cross older one and a smug smaller one, with broken up Lego in his hand. The moment was over. I understood the older one's frustration, and told him so. I released him from playing with his brother and told him that it's hard to be selfless all the time, but it is how Jesus wants us to be. I missed a trick though, and didn't mention that it's the Holy Spirit who helps us to imitate Jesus. It's the Holy Spirit that helps us to love annoying siblings too. I wonder in this house of five children, if there will be another opportunity to talk through 'being selfless'? Yeah I reckon so....

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,  not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others."
Philippians 2v3-4

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness...."
Romans 8v26

Father's Day

So today is Father's Day; a day to celebrate fathers. For some, this day brings joy and fun and thankfulness. But for others, it's either not relevant or it's painful in some way. Maybe dad wasn't great, or he's unknown. Maybe he left. Maybe he was never around. Maybe he never cared. Or maybe it's harder than anyone can ever imagine! Maybe dad was wonderful, but he died too soon, and he's missed every day, not just today. Maybe for some mums, they're so busy bringing up their kids alone, that Father's Day is a bit of a joke to them. And then there are those who would love to be a father or once were, and those who father alone.

For me, I am grateful for a dad who loves me now and cared for me, as a child. When the midwife saw my dad 'still' cuddling me, she told him he was going to spoil me, and his reply was that he fully intended to. I was his 'little peanut'. To my mum's dismay, he used to push me far too high on the swings. He taught me to drive and came and rescued me when I ran out of petrol, again and again. He used to walk me to the Off License on a Friday night for a packet of m&ms. He made me the perfect bacon sarnies. He helped me plan for a trip to Uganda, without telling mum. (That's another story!) He took me to my first football match, well it was QPR, but close enough and he bought me my first VW Beetle. He walked me down the aisle. And he continues to father me, whilst being a crazy grandad to my children. My slightly sarcastic tone of humour, and the ability to find the funny side of things in most situations is from him too and also my secret love for The Travelling Wilburys, but don't tell the husband.

Now I actually forgot to get my dad a Father's Day card. How bad is that? Thankfully, he is on holiday so by the time I buy a reduced one tomorrow and send it off, he will never know it was late! He definitely deserves to get a card, a small gesture of thanks. I guess I'm so secure in His love for me, that I probably take him, and my mum for granted. And what about my Heavenly Father, does he deserve a reduced card thanking Him for all He has done for me? Or does He deserve so much more? There is no amount of praise and worship that I could bestow on Him, that would be considered enough. What He has done for me and given me, is amazing; His love, His grace, His forgiveness, His mercy, my name in His book of life, an eternal heritage, His adoption of me, His joy, His strength. The list goes on and on. And although I'm thankful to my dad for all he has done for me, it actually pails into insignificance when I look at what Abba Father has done for me.

Wonderfully, this amazing fathering isn't just for me. It's for those who never had a dad, or those who had a lousy dad or those whose dad walked out on them or their kids. Even the amazing dads, the ones who love and care, their love still falls a million miles short of the steadfast love of God, and that is worth my thanks and praise.

 

For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
 as far as the east is from the west,
so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.

Psalm 103v11-13

Be Prepared

So my half term antics were a lot calmer this time round, because for the most part of it I only had three out of the five with me. I'm not saying that having three kids is calm, neither is having two or even one for that matter. But any less than the maximum number, usually makes a great difference in this house. At the beginning of the week, the husband and his brother, took my biggest two off to climb Snowdon, in treacherous, adventurous, 'mum's not here, so let's keep climbing' type weather.

They had waterproofs with them, warm clothing, spare trousers and hoodies, maps of the mountain, climbing boots, head torches, thermal socks, Ben 10 aliens and snacks. So they were pretty well prepared, even though the husband forgot his spare trousers so ended up at the pub in the evenings, in his pyjamas. (I only packed for the boys, so no comment) It sounds like it wasn't the easiest climb, with poor visibility, sideways hail storms and crying boys. The two men ended up carrying a terrified child each on their shoulders, headlong into the icy wind, for quite a long way back down the mountain to safety.

I was pretty well prepared too, for the glorious, sunny day in the garden, which I was having back home. I had made a shady tent for baby to play in. I had suncreamed the littlest ones. I had given out ice creams. I had the juice ready for when they asked. I had set up Happyland, and I had positioned the sun lounger exactly where I wanted it, turning it to face the sun every so often. I had thought about sending a photo of all this to the husband, but had decided against it.

I was prepared in the evening too; tv remote, glass of white, and a bar of hazlenut chocolate, just before fluffing the pillows on both sides of the bed, allowing me to choose and roll at choice. (I'm sure the hostel bunk beds were just as spacious for the male-bonding Snowdonia survivors too).

And now it's the night before school starts. The preparation has commenced; the uniforms are ready in neat piles. Their shoes are out in pairs, in the porch. (Five pairs, which is confusing me somewhat) Their lunch bags have been washed from the experiments that were growing in them. The boys themselves have been washed from anything growing on them too. The sandwiches are made. The cereal is out.
(I sound amazing don't I? Don't be deceived. For a more balanced view of my organisational skills, take a look at my last blog post. Every so often, I do like to give the husband false hope that I am the dream wife he had hoped for all those years ago) And so I'm ready for what tomorrow brings. Or am I? I know that whatever preparation has happened, however well I've nailed it practically this evening, there is still something I need to do.

I know that I need to be ready for tomorrow, with the realisation that I can't actually do tomorrow!

I can't do it on my own. I can't do it in my own strength. I can't be a good mum in my own strength. I can't be a good wife in my own strength. I can't do anything in my own strength. The preparation which needs to take place, starts with me humbly admitting that I need God's help for tomorrow. I need His help when I feed the baby at 5:30am. I need His help when they forget to brush their teeth tomorrow. I need to confidently approach the throne of grace, before tomorrow even comes and as soon as tomorrow comes. I need God's help in order to glorify Him tomorrow, otherwise even with all the prep in the world, I know how my day will turn out. The days I think I can do it alone, just end up exactly like my last blog post. So, I aim to end today in His wonderful presence and I aim to start tomorrow, right back in it. I simply can't do tomorrow without Him. Thankfully, He has already gone ahead of me tomorrow, so He knows what I really need to be prepared for.

 

"Surely God is my help; the Lord is the one who sustains me". Psalm 54v4

"Do not be far from me my God; come quickly, God, to help me". Psalm 71v12

The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow

Walk with me, no hurry with me, through a morning last week....
We got up late. The baby was wet through but needed milk, so a quick decision had to be made; change the baby, but start the morning with her 'hunger scream', or feed the baby but start the morning with wet pyjamas, as her wet becomes my wet. I decided the hunger scream was the better choice.
 
Screaming baby changed. And on with the feeding, but shouts from another room of "I hate you" meant baby was put down on my bed, where she successfully grabbed the bottle and fed herself; a useful skill if you happen to be the fifth one in this house. Young Jedi has learned well. The "I hate you" is a new phrase. It only just started this week and needs training like every other new phase they go through. But this morning, really? Younger boys bugging older boys, older boys jumping out at younger boys and a mummy snapping at multiple boys. Do I really have to talk into why we don't hate each other? I haven't got the time this morning. I wonder if someone slept over last night or if indeed these are actually all my kids?  I'll assume for now, that they're all mine and get them packed off to school, so I can get on with the stuff I need to do today. There's a cry up the stairs of "Muuuuuuuuum there's no milk", but it's okay that there is no milk today, because we are running half an hour late, which means that the little shop is now open. Hurrah, every cloud...

£1.50 found and a child sent out to buy milk, which I do stop to appreciate, knowing that some mums have years 'til they're at this stage. Brief thankful and positive thought of the morning over with, and on with the morning.
 
Multiple cereal boxes, bowls, spoons and light sabers, are precariously balancing on the table around the pile of wet washing which I left on the table last night, to remind myself to hang it up last night. The child returns with milk but no one needs milk because they all ate dry Frosties out of the box, while I was upstairs. Of course they did, how innovative of them. Baby sat in a Bumbo chair next to the pile of washing on the kitchen table, still in her nappy. I feed her mashed up banana while she spits out mashed up banana. I try to remember back to when I had one baby and I took my time with each of these delicate little developmental stages and wrote them in a 'Keepsake' book. Ha ha ha...
 
Baby taken upstairs to clean off what I'm hoping is just banana. There's an argument about marbles going on. I make a snappy suggestion about shoes and teeth; the things they do every single day but seem to forget on a daily basis. So three end up in the bathroom together, which everyone knows is just a recipe for disaster. More than two children in a room together, doing something they've been asked to do, never actually works. Even two children is probably one too many, if you actually want them to achieve that thing. I remember the dentist saying something about them not all being old enough to brush their teeth without supervision, but the dentist didn't mean on days like today, he meant nine years ago, when I had one child. One, I can supervise. How is there a child still in pyjamas? Oh pants, I thought they were all dressed.
 
Baby carried downstairs for some physical play (rolling over and getting stuck). The pyjama-d boy is now dressed but screaming. His brother hit him with a light saber. I hurry to the offending child and snap at him. I yell something about being a good example as the older one. I can hear the hypocrisy as I yell, but I'll set him a good example tomorrow, when I'm calmer, when I'm not running late, when I've got more time. The older boy listens to my rant, and then simply says "I was actually just holding the light saber when he tried to hit me and he hit the light saber instead". I was yelling at the wrong child. So I went and made things right, by yelling at the other child. I think the baby is crying. She must've rolled over and got stuck. I'll get to her in a minute.
 
It turned 8:33am. The boys needed to leave for school. A hurried coat grab as they were shoved out the door, "But mum we need £1.50 at school today, to help the dogs". A random request, but I seem to remember it was spent on this morning's milk which we didn't need. Heads kissed quickly and off they went into the big wide world. Why are there still two children crying? Oh yeah one got yelled at and one got stuck. I went for a distraction technique rather than a sorry, to the 'yelled at' one. Baby has stopped crying. A window of opportunity to get dressed.
 
I moved sleeping baby from the lounge floor to the car seat and started out the door for nursery. It's my rare day when four out of five are at an educational setting and I can have a bit of space, a bit of me time, a bit of house cleaning with no one needing me. I have a faint recollection that the other three left for school without lunch, so I cut mouldy edges off of some bread, stuck something edible inside and grabbed their lunch boxes which still had yesterday's leftovers in. I stopped to add a note to their lunches saying "mummy is sorry for being a grumpy poo-head today". I dashed to the car in the rain. Drenched and slightly tearful, I looked into the mirror and realised at some point today I must've made the decision not to do my hair or make up.
 
My now wet boy piped up from the back, "We don't like the rain do we mummy?" And I knew what he was about to say and I knew it was today's 'lesson from a three year old'. "We don't like the rain do we mummy, but it's the rain which makes the plants grow." I sat in the car with him asking why we weren't going anywhere and I reflected on my morning. If the plants grow in the 'not so nice weather', how have I grown in my 'not so nice morning' and how have my kids grown from their 'not so nice mum'?

"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness". Lamentations 3v22-23

Somewhere along the way this morning, I thought my mission was to get them up, and get them out. I'd forgotten that my mission is actually to show them Jesus' love; to show them His kindness and His compassion and to train them to glorify God, in how they live their lives. I was too busy this morning to train my kids, too snappy to set them an example. Actually I had set them an example, just not one I want them to follow. I didn't start my morning in God's presence, I didn't even ask Him for help as it went from bad to worse. I just ploughed on, in my own strength and I definitely didn't glorify God with my actions. Thankfully He is patient enough to train me, and to grow me through the rainy, all consuming days. Because the sun will come out tomorrow. His mercy is new for me every morning, even this morning.

Pass the Bucket

So the small pink bundle is 6 months old now, and I think I've survived. Time to get back on with the every day blogging. Thanks to everyone who let me interview them for the Mothering series. (There are a couple more stories to post out). I've been so encouraged to hear how different mums draw strength from the same God. 

So where do I start back in? Well, probably best to start with a good old vomit story! We had a week of sickness; each child and parent taking a different day to develop their own version of being poorly. With a big family, a sickness bug amounts to a lot of Tupperware, a lot of Lucozade, a lot of DVD watching, a lot of duvet washing, a lot of teddy bear washing and a lot of windows regularly opened. Each child had a different approach to the bug. One cried a lot but made it to the loo in time. I'm fine with that. One was sick once and then was his normal energetic self. Mmm...not so fine. One cried a specific cry which gave me enough time to run upstairs with a Tupperware box. Again, fine with that. The baby one was only a little bit sick, but she rubbed her beautiful red hair into it. Mmm... And then there's the one who silently threw up on himself, threw up on his teddies, threw up on his bed, threw up on the floor, and then tearfully walked downstairs for help. I asked the husband to help me with this one and he walked in the room and gagged several times, which if nothing else, caused me to laugh at him.

With the backload of washing, I only got round to washing Tigger and cleaning out the lumps in the bath the next day. As I was in the bathroom, slightly heaving, opening the window and sighing, my eldest called out from his bed, "Mum, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God". (1 Corinthians 10v31)

I laughed out loud or LOL as they say. What a little legend. And of course how right he was. The Bible clearly tells us that whatever we are doing, we should do it for the glory of God. Whether it's washing Tigger, washing the bath after Tigger's visit, cleaning the Tupperware out, washing multiple duvets, Anti-Bacterialising the whole house or cleaning the carpet while the husband gags, we do it for God. It's not easy but at that moment it was a perfect reminder of why I do what I do, every day, just as a mum.