Month: October 2017

When you work, in any job, you get feedback, right?  When I was in school I got grades on papers and report cards, all telling me (and my parents) how I was doing.  Feedback.  When I was teaching, my principal would observe my lessons and give me an evaluation.  Feedback.  I can think back to any job – nannying, day camp counselor, babysitter…there was always feedback in the form of “my kids love coming” or “you need to do this” or “can you babysit again.”  Always feedback.

Now, I’m a mom.  A stay at home mom.  The feedback I get now is, “I need underwear, we are out of milk, the dog peed on the floor.”  My days are measured in loads done, meals made, toilets scrubbed, drop offs and pick ups.  Don’t get me wrong, I would absolutely not change this season.  I love that I can drop my kids off at school and pick them up and ask how their day was.  I love that we can chat and eat a meal and we are not rushed through it (most days).  I love that I know when they sneak clean clothes in with the dirty because I am here to see what they wear every day.  I love it.

But as much as I love it, it’s hard.  You don’t often hear that you are doing a great job.  There is no report card for the mom.  If you’re anything like me, you put one foot in front of the other, you do the best you can and pray.  You pray that your kids are kind and generous and loving.  You pray that you get everything done that needs to be.  You pray that you make it to practice on time.  You pray that they go to bed.  You pray that you can stay awake to have a conversation with your husband.  You pray.

But despite all the praying, isn’t it easy to see all the ways we fail?  I’m not sure about you but I fail on a daily (hourly) basis.  I fail in keeping up with the house (don’t bring your white gloves).  I fail parenting my kids (I have stories).  I fail at eating right (something I never had to worry about until my metabolism bid farewell around 35).  Then it’s a vicious cycle, I fail because I’m not setting a good example for my kids (because I don’t love brussels sprouts either) and then I just fail them.  The struggle is real.

So what do we do with the lack of feedback and the screaming of failing?  I don’t have an answer other than fight like hell.  We pray and we hold our people close and we tell our people our junk and we love them when they tell us theirs.  We are real and we talk it through.  The mamas need to stick together.  We need each other and not for pats on the back and fake smiles but for real, authentic conversation.  We need each other for the long haul because our babies don’t sleep and our toddlers are 2 and 3 and our elementary school kids have math.  And don’t get me started on jr. high or high school.  We need real.

So, let’s stop every once in a while and have coffee or ice cream or a margarita.  Let’s talk it through like real people because you can Pinterest all you want but I don’t buy that your life is a magazine shoot where your kids are perfectly dressed and well behaved all the time.  I don’t buy that you and your husband never have “discussions” or drive each other nuts.  I don’t buy perfection because it doesn’t exist for any of us.  Look at that,  common ground!  You aren’t perfect and neither am I!

Bottom line, we need people and if you don’t have them, get them.  Shoot, call me.  Email me.  I will be your person.  We need to stick together because the world is too hard without real people.  I’ll give you feedback and if I can’t, I’ll pray.  I know a guy who is good with everything.

There are a lot of things I could write about, especially in the whole moving, coming home, leaving people category.  I miss Fishers.  There, I said it.  I miss that place something fierce.  I miss my people and I miss my church and I miss my job and the little people that I got to hang out with and their families I came to love.  I miss my house (yes, I’m vain enough to really miss it).  I miss my neighbors and the bus stop and the school my kids attended.  I miss their amazing teachers and office staff and the fact that I could walk in and laugh or cry and it was all ok.  No one looked at me like I was crazy.  I miss the ladies that would come to my house every Wednesday for small group and we would share our lives and grow and learn and pray and love each other.  I just miss it.  But I don’t want to get on here and whine about how much I miss Fishers every time I write.  As my very wise friend says, “it’s ok to feel it but don’t pitch a tent and camp there.”

To be honest, I’ve been “planning” on starting this blog for over a year but I didn’t know what to call it, so it was easy to put it off.  I thought maybe people would think I’m silly for writing and who really cares what I have to say.  Or what if I’m judged because of my grammar mistakes?  (Because I know the difference between the “theres” and the “too’s” but sometimes its just a typo…and I start sentences all wrong and write run ons and can overuse and the exclamation mark or comma with the best of them.)  Well, here’s the part where I say who cares!  Because if I was worried about what everyone thought of me, all the time, I’d be buried.  (And trust me, most days I’m neck deep.)

Isn’t that what getting older and learning is about?  Learning to let it all go and actually like yourself?  It’s a work in progress.  It’s not an easy road and when you add on moving to a new city (because I don’t live in the same Phoenix I grew up in) and new everything, it’s even worse.  What if those moms don’t like me?  I don’t drive the same type of car and I don’t wear the same kind of clothes and I certainly wouldn’t be able to share clothes with them (maybe my left thigh would fit).  It’s so hard, this life.  It’s harder than I’d like to admit and I thought by my late 30’s it would get easier, like I would have it “figured out” and I would have some kind of routine or stability but its’ that hilarious!  God has such a sense of humor!!!

The definition of transplant is “to move or transfer (something) to another place or situation, typically with some effort or upheaval.”  So, this is really a life long thing because we are always moving and learning and changing and it always takes effort and sometimes it is a total upheaval.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, get ready!  I will probably ramble (much like tonight) and try to be funny and try not to cry and try to just breathe.  This whole transplanting back home thing will probably take on a life of it’s own.  So…here’s to the adventure and the upheaval!