To: New Mothers of Daughters

Written:  February 2, 2014

I knew it would happen.  Don't we all?  After all the “hoopla” I caused in my younger day, an apology to my mother was destined at some point in my own journey of motherhood.  I knew one day I’d have an “aha” moment and all those years of “miscommunications” and teenage attitudes would resurface in my mind, and I would clearly see her perspective.   I would call her up, we’d have a sweet moment, share a laugh, and I’d tell her what I was experiencing with my own daughter.  She’d respond with, “I completely understand, sweetie.  Let me give you some advice…” I could see it.  It seemed like one of the many ways life would come full circle.  It would happen some day, I just knew it.  I just didn’t think it would happen when my daughter was SIXTEEN MONTHS OLD.  No way.  I was definitely thinking more like SIXTEEN YEARS.  Ha, joke’s on me. 

To make a short story even shorter, I’ll put it like this:  Molly is a mama’s girl.  Not that she doesn’t LOVE and ADORE Daniel (c’mon, ‘daddy’ was her first word), but she is simply a mama’s girl.  When she is cranky, sleepy, hungry, in need of something, or unsure, she has always found comfort in me.  I am not prideful about it, but I do CHERISH it.  I love her with every ounce of my being, and I feel that she understands that in her need of me.  For now, I’m her advocate.  I’m her peacemaker.  I’m her safe place.  God has given her to us to raise and nurture, and I take the role seriously.  Believe me, I know one day I will not be the resolution to her problems, in fact I may become one of them, but I enjoy the role of “mama” now. 

With that all said, last night she DID NOT want me.  And, not in a “I love Daddy!” sort of way.  No, it was a “cry/flail your body/reach for the door/don’t touch me” kind of way.  She and Daniel had been playing, and I came in to start the bedtime routine.  Clearly, that set her off because a battle for the ages quickly ensued.  I tried rocking.  I tried singing.  I tried reading a book.  I tried a sippy cup of water.  A sippy cup of milk.  Nada.  Nothing.  Wails and tears were everywhere, and I finally called Daniel back into the room.  She had never done this before at bedtime, so I needed the reinforcement.  Was this her first “tantrum”?  How should we parent this behavior?  Oh no, we haven’t read any of those parenting books yet!!  

Then, as Daniel reached to take her, she threw her arms out to him and there was SILENCE.  In that moment, I felt relief, but it was immediately followed by rejection.  I know it may sound a little dramatic, but I’m being honest.  My mind was a whirlwind as I watched her cling to Daniel.  I was usually the one on the other end of this situation, and this new role kind of hurt.  I got up out of the rocking chair, so Daniel could put her to bed and left the room.  Tears stung my eyes a bit as I peeked in and saw her sweetly reading books with her daddy.  I loved seeing them in that moment.  Loved that she wanted him and felt safe with him, but it hurt that she had NOT wanted me.  I quickly walked into my bedroom and called my mother. 

My mom (aka Sweet T): Hello?
Me:  Mom?

Sweet T:  Yea, what’s up?

Me:  I’m sorry for all the times I was so mean to you and gave you attitude.

Sweet T:  What?

Me:  Molly wanted nothing to do with me tonight, and it hurt my feelings.  So, I’m calling to say sorry for all the times I did the same to you.

Sweet T:  Oh, I see.  What happened?

Me:  Nothing, really.  She just wanted nothing to do with me, which has never happened before.   She cried and screamed until Daniel came back into the room.

Sweet T:  That is so precious that she loves her Daddy, Paige. 

Me:  I know, but that’s not my point.  She didn’t want me, and that hurt.  So, I’m sorry.

Sweet T:  Well, this won’t be the last time you learn this lesson or feel this way. 

Me:  I know.

Sweet T:  And tomorrow is a whole new day.

Me:  I know.  Okay, Daniel is in here now.  I want to hear how it went.

Sweet T:  Paige, you know how it went.  She had a sweet time with him.  It’s okay. 

Me:  I know, I know. 

Daniel:  Who are you talking to?

Me:  My mom.  I called her to apologize for all the times I was mean to her and hurt her feelings.

Daniel:  (Walks out of the room) I’m going to go watch TV, this one could take awhile.

Me:  Very funny! 

Sweet T:  Talk to you later, babe.

Me:  Okay.  Love you.

Sweet T:  Love you.

I lay in bed that night feeling a bit dramatic, a bit sad, and a lot reflective.  Had a sixteen month old baby really hurt my feelings?  Well, honestly, yes.  My mom had been so sweet on the phone, but I knew I had given her a run for her money through my adolescent days.  As I connected the dots together in my head, it FINALLY hit me. 

God doesn’t lay around sulking and sad each time we reject Him.  He doesn’t talk to his friends about the struggle in our communication or read a book on how to decode our actions.  No, he ACTIVELY continues to pursue us, no matter what.  He dives into our messiness and fights for our hearts.  His love for us outweighs our tantrums so greatly, the scale’s needle doesn’t even flicker when we rebel.  I lay in my bed that night and feelings of humility and joy quickly drove out my pity party. 

Here's a day when she was a mama's girl.

Sweet T was right, tomorrow would be a new day.  And the Lord’s words that were weighing on me were also VERY right, “Don’t lean on your own understanding.”  In other words, “How you’re handling the situation or what you’re thinking is most likely wrong.  Come ask me about it, and I’ll show you the bigger picture.”  I figured if I was going to keep at this parenting thing, I better go ahead and put that in my back pocket.    

Even still, Sweet T deserved that apology…and the many more she may will receive along this journey.  So, when you have to make that apology call earlier in the game than you planned, know you are not alone.  

From: Paige

To: Austen Addicts

Edenbrooke by Julianne Donaldson

Written:  January 19, 2014 

(Book Review #1)

Let me start off by saying, I am a sucker for perusing the new arrivals and highest rated books on Amazon or Goodreads, reading their reviews, downloading the sample, forming my opinion, then moving on . . . (I have the same guilty pleasure with movie trailers, but that is a different story).  This is my methodical approach for building my ever-evolving and always growing “Must Read List”.  So when I found my Amazon account with a bit of gift-card credit (thanks to my recent birthday and Christmas), I decided to revisit the Edenbrooke page, a debut novel by Julianne Donaldson.  I had read the summary of this book many times as my trusty friend, Amazon, had recommended it to me on multiple occasions, but the $8.99 price tag always held me back.  However, I finally found myself “1-click purchasing” this book now that I came armed with the aforementioned credit. 5 Star Average?  Check.  Over 600 reviews?  Check.  Deliver to Paige’s Kindle?  You bet.

My initial hesitance to the book (beyond the hefty price tag) was the time period – the Regency Era.  The author’s bio described herself as a Jane Austen addict, and I feared her modern depiction of the time would not hold a candle to the works of Austen.  Austen is deemed one of the most popular English novelist of the genre, so I couldn’t fathom why one would want to have her novels held up to the light next to Austen’s.  However, I was quickly surprised to find that Mrs. Donaldson was not competing with the likes of Pride & Prejudice or Sense & Sensibility, but merely expounding the era to a 21^st century reader (consumers of Twitter, Facebook posts, People magazine, etc.).

Spiritually speaking, I felt like I was reading The Message version of the Bible.  The context had not changed, the characters endured the same experiences, and the ultimate message of the era was not compromised, but it was undoubtedly easier to comprehend.  Like the writers of The Message understand about the Bible, Julianne Donaldson knows about Austen – reading her work is not a walk in the park.  One must be thoroughly familiar with social customs of the early 1800s, regency era diction, and norms of the landed gentry to be fully immersed in her plots.  Julianne simply translates this magical time period for our contemporary minds without compromising its uniqueness. 

All that to say, this book was simply a pleasure to read.  While I may not venture back to it again and again, I am happy to have divulged in this work of fiction for the past three days.  The heroine, Marianna, was a character I easily admired and loved.  Once I got past the opening (and potentially cheesy) scene of her “twirling” in the field, I quickly found her endearing.  She is humble, naive, and honest in a complex world of titles, money, and traditions.  Like a breath of fresh air, you can’t help but find vigor in her perspective of life.  Themes of family, coming of age, and love weaved throughout the novel and kept me very intrigued.  Yes, of course, there was a male interest in Marianna’s story, but their relationship is a sweet complement to her own quest of self-discovery.  The many conflicts she finds herself in (which include all categories sans man vs. nature, bless her heart) resolve by the novel’s end, which I am always thankful to find, as I have never been a fan of the whole “interpret the ending yourself” thing. (I’m still scarred by you, Inception.)

While I may not recommend this book to my husband (who only reads non-fiction) or to people who prefer a thrilling or epic plot, I do recommend it to those of you who enjoy a heart warming read on a lazy day.  If you can appreciate prose filled with carriage rides, chaperones, inheritances, masquerade balls, and other matters of the like, you will surely enjoy this read.  Bravo, Julianne, I think Jane Austen just might be grateful for your willingness and success at capturing the beauty of this time period and gracefully depicting it to those of us who don’t know the early 19^th century denotation of a “lady”.  

From: Paige

To: My Inner Control Freak

Written:  January 10, 2014

We both know I have only been a mom for sixteen months.   I understand this gives me a sliver of authority when speaking on all things “maternal”, but I do believe I have learned at least one valuable lesson in this small window of time.  I know, I know. . . you enjoy life when I let you lead the way instead of letting this lesson prevail, but let's be honest, Molly has completely changed the game.  And, so, I think it's officially time to let you retire.  

Remember when I learned this same lesson when Daniel and I were first married?  You think I would have let it translate over into motherhood, but that would have been too easy. I let you creep back into my little world, and you're just not working in motherhood.  I shouldn't be surprised that your tendencies fail in a life of ever changing nap times, teething, blow out diapers, crying fits, and first steps.  I guess we both know that I prefer to learn as I go . . . in academia, they call it “kinesthetic” learning.  In real life, it could be called: being a moron.  But I won't beat myself up over it.  So, take a deep breath and relish my new mantra:  

DON’T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF.

That’s it.  Plain and simple.  

In marriage, I had to quickly learn this plays out as follows:*

-       He doesn’t clean the kitchen the same way I do.  I don’t think a final wipe down will ever be in his repertoire. 

-       He will probably never learn where all the dishes go when unloading the dishwasher.  Does the Tupperware cabinet scare him?  Understandable.

-       The clothes lying ON the hamper are also considered dirty.  Obviously the wicker lid is too inconvenient &/or heavy.

-       The drink HE enjoys while borrowing MY car will inevitably be in the cup holder the next time I drive my car.  I can hear his travel mug of cold coffee or watered down coke from Arby’s laugh as I begrudgingly rearrange my console to find room for my beverage. (I should probably work on the whole "yours, mine, & ours" thing...)

In motherhood, it looks like this:**

-       It’s okay if she doesn’t eat a veggie at each meal.  Do potatoes even really count as a vegetable?  No?  Bummer.

-       When she was a newborn in gender neutral clothes, and I was asked, “How old is he?” I just smiled, answered, and threw on a dash of pink next time.

-       She prefers me (her mother) to a friend or relative who is asking to hold her for the umpteenth time, just to be rejected for the umpteenth time. 

-       She crawls (on the church’s youth building floor), sucks her thumb, crawls (in the backyard amidst dog poop), sucks her thumb, crawls (on the bleachers of the football stadium), sucks her thumb, repeat, repeat, repeat. . . Yes, I carry those sanitary wipes, but sometimes she beats me to it.  I just hope that whole “germs build immunity” is a true theory and not just something meant to pacify new moms. 

Pretty sure the piece of mud she's holding went into her mouth just seconds after this photo.

*I’ve never claimed to be perfect, so to make things equal, here are some “small things” Daniel has learned not to sweat in our years of marital bliss:

-       Something prohibits me from shutting drawers ALL. THE. WAY.  I leave them an inch or two or three open.  I don’t know why - I just do.

-       When working in the kitchen, I have been known to leave the refrigerator doors open long enough for that obnoxious alarm to sound.  And, I’ve been known to completely ignore said obnoxious sound.  Apparently, Daniel can’t ignore it, nor the opportunity to ask if we’re refrigerating the whole kitchen.  Good one, Dan, good one.

-       I have no problem driving with the gas light on or letting my “miles ‘til empty” read in the single digits.  I’ve gotten it down to 1.  And, I’m pretty sure it drove further than 1 mile.  Thanks for that, Toyota.  And, thanks, Daniel, for now taking on the miserable chore of filling my car with gas.  Love ya!

**And to make things equal on the motherhood front, here is one “small thing” I know Molly will have to learn not to sweat in the future:

-       NO way I keep up with technology.  I have about 37 updates to install on my phone right now and no intention of doing it.  I barely know how to work our TV or any other electronic in the house.  I can’t wait for 12-year-old-Molly to roll her eyes at me when I ask her a question about my iPhone 10, as she does homework on her iPad 56.

I know all these things drive you crazy, and you want them to be nonexistent in my life.  I understand you start to break down and sweat when you watch all these things unfold, but you're going to just have to take a vacation for awhile.  You're rarely helpful as I'm raising my sweet daughter and wanting her to have fun, grow in independence, and enjoy life.  So, go to the beach.  Head to the mountains.  Take a Alaskan cruise.  It's up to you, but I'm uninviting you into this whole parenting thing.  

I think that sometimes your intentions are good, but I have learned we have to choose our battles.  We can’t be on edge all the time.  We can’t sweat the small things.  Why?  Because some days, the big things will come up, the war will wage, and I’ll need energy.  I’ll want to fight the good fight with my best resources, not the leftovers.  Until we realize life isn’t something we control, we won’t ever find true joy in our parenting, marriage, career, etc.  So, I won’t panic over digested dirt when I know she’ll have a hard time sharing her toys this afternoon with a friend.  I’ll fight that battle and just hope the dirt contains some very organic nutrients.

Enjoy your sabbatical and don't cringe at the messiness of my kitchen or the pile of laundry on your way out.  :)

From:  Paige