On parenting
"It doesn't get easier. Just different."
I don't know who first said this to me, but I can remember the sound of her voice and the feeling of my heart deflating. Whoever she was, is ahead of me in this grueling marathon and would know.
Some things do get easier.
Remembering the newborn sleep deprivation, the dark abyss of giving up on naptime, the 24/7 watchful eye, the exhausting endless playtime with a side of guilt over wishing for a moment to myself, and oh the bodily fluids. (Not mine.) In general, these super-hard parts of being a Mama don't plague me quite so much anymore.
But as one challenge vanishes, a new one always arises. A more grown-up-kid, less-decidedly black-and-white one.
And the thing is, no one asks. It would be the real-life game of Would you Rather: a) constantly patrol Youtube for inappropriate content or b) have someone at the door listening every time you go number two. But you don't even get a vote. Which really doesn't matter in the end, because they're both dreadful.
I'm torn up, y'all. Without divulging, it's enough to say there is rebellion in the household. Against authority as a whole, yes, but seeming to be more targeted to me. And while I know this is small potatoes - little kids, little problems - I still have no stinkin clue what to do.
So angry I could just vomit. It is blatant and shameless and utterly disrespectful.
And so sad I might just vomit again. Came across some videos from toddlerhood the other day and my heart just aches to remember those days. The sweet creature who was for so long my best friend, who I completely poured my whole self into all his life, now I barely recognize.
I mourn for him.
The guilt is a fight. The devil sneers and giggles and whispers in my ear that I've screwed up, I've ruined him. My love and compassion and encouragement and hatred of confrontation are the root of his entitlement and self-absorption.
Which I know, er, mostly isn't true. Because it's just what happens to kids at this age. Right?
Either way, it hurts. Deeply. Things I used to struggle with are coming back to haunt me. Insecurity. Fear. Failure. Rejection.
Yes, I know I'm overreacting. We do have good moments, and things could be so, so much worse.
It still hurts.
Blind faith isn't new to me. But I don't think ever before I've been faced with the object of my desperate prayers every single day. Every single day is either a step forward or a step back. And I can't get comfortable with anything, because on the fastly-approaching horizon is a new environment that will change him and us even more.
Lord, I need you. Oh, I need you. You say you gently guide those who have young, but maybe it needs to be more of a swift kick to the shins than a soft tug. Speak, please. Lead. Teach. Send wisdom, and plenty of it. Restore.
Meanwhile, I will love him the way I always have, the way I did when he used to tell me sing-songy stories and would light up when I entered a room. I will choose to like him and forgive him. Please help me push through the hurt enough to show him a little bit of You.
I keep fighting voices in my mind that say I'm not enough
Every single lie that tells me I will never measure up
Am I more than just the sum of every high and every low?
Remind me once again just who I am because I need to know
The only thing that matters now is everything You think of me
In You I find my worth, in You I find my identity
Taking all I have and now I'm laying it at Your feet
You have every failure God, You have every victory
You say I am loved when I can't feel a thing
You say I am strong when I think I am weak
And You say I am held when I am falling short
And when I don't belong, oh You say that I am Yours
And I believe, oh I believe
What You say of me
I don't know who first said this to me, but I can remember the sound of her voice and the feeling of my heart deflating. Whoever she was, is ahead of me in this grueling marathon and would know.
Some things do get easier.
Remembering the newborn sleep deprivation, the dark abyss of giving up on naptime, the 24/7 watchful eye, the exhausting endless playtime with a side of guilt over wishing for a moment to myself, and oh the bodily fluids. (Not mine.) In general, these super-hard parts of being a Mama don't plague me quite so much anymore.
But as one challenge vanishes, a new one always arises. A more grown-up-kid, less-decidedly black-and-white one.
And the thing is, no one asks. It would be the real-life game of Would you Rather: a) constantly patrol Youtube for inappropriate content or b) have someone at the door listening every time you go number two. But you don't even get a vote. Which really doesn't matter in the end, because they're both dreadful.
I'm torn up, y'all. Without divulging, it's enough to say there is rebellion in the household. Against authority as a whole, yes, but seeming to be more targeted to me. And while I know this is small potatoes - little kids, little problems - I still have no stinkin clue what to do.
So angry I could just vomit. It is blatant and shameless and utterly disrespectful.
And so sad I might just vomit again. Came across some videos from toddlerhood the other day and my heart just aches to remember those days. The sweet creature who was for so long my best friend, who I completely poured my whole self into all his life, now I barely recognize.
I mourn for him.
The guilt is a fight. The devil sneers and giggles and whispers in my ear that I've screwed up, I've ruined him. My love and compassion and encouragement and hatred of confrontation are the root of his entitlement and self-absorption.
Which I know, er, mostly isn't true. Because it's just what happens to kids at this age. Right?
Either way, it hurts. Deeply. Things I used to struggle with are coming back to haunt me. Insecurity. Fear. Failure. Rejection.
Yes, I know I'm overreacting. We do have good moments, and things could be so, so much worse.
It still hurts.
Blind faith isn't new to me. But I don't think ever before I've been faced with the object of my desperate prayers every single day. Every single day is either a step forward or a step back. And I can't get comfortable with anything, because on the fastly-approaching horizon is a new environment that will change him and us even more.
Lord, I need you. Oh, I need you. You say you gently guide those who have young, but maybe it needs to be more of a swift kick to the shins than a soft tug. Speak, please. Lead. Teach. Send wisdom, and plenty of it. Restore.
Meanwhile, I will love him the way I always have, the way I did when he used to tell me sing-songy stories and would light up when I entered a room. I will choose to like him and forgive him. Please help me push through the hurt enough to show him a little bit of You.
Every single lie that tells me I will never measure up
Am I more than just the sum of every high and every low?
Remind me once again just who I am because I need to know
The only thing that matters now is everything You think of me
In You I find my worth, in You I find my identity
Taking all I have and now I'm laying it at Your feet
You have every failure God, You have every victory
You say I am loved when I can't feel a thing
You say I am strong when I think I am weak
And You say I am held when I am falling short
And when I don't belong, oh You say that I am Yours
And I believe, oh I believe
What You say of me
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