Month: December 2016

What moms of small children really want for Christmas

There are plenty of things on my list of needs this Christmas. As mom’s, we have to prioritize. And our needs are so great, our wants often go unspoken or unnoticed. For example, I need a new vacuum. And shampoo. Could probably use some new towels, or pots and pans as well. The common theme is that all of those things are for the home, not necessarily for me -minus the shampoo. That’s what we do. When we get the chance to ask for something for ourselves, we fill it with a need. This Christmas, I’m compiling a list of what moms really WANT for Christmas even if they can’t ask for them. 

  1. Sleep. We want sleep. Not the kind where you get up with the kids and everyone is trying to kill one another in the next room and one sneaks into our bedroom to ask us when will be getting out of bed before 7:30. We can hear the screaming and fighting and can’t stay in bed while that is happening without guilt. Take them somewhere for breakfast. Stay gone until 10. That would be a nice gift. And if you have a newborn in the house and don’t regularly take a night, or two, or three- do that too. 
  2. A date. We want time to get dressed up and feel like ourselves. We need to remember who we are. We want a new outfit and makeup. We want a dinner where no one is screaming, and we get to just be. 
  3. Nice makeup. This will never take priority for us but can make such an impact on the way we feel every single day. This is something my mom did for me post-partum that made a huge impact and gave me a fresh feel when I really felt exhausted. 
  4. A gift certificate to get a wash and style from our favorite stylist. And time to do it. 
  5. We want pedicures and massages. There is something about having your toenails painted that gives us a false sense of not having lost ourselves totally. Our hair can be dirty, we can be covered in syrup and play-doh, but if our toenails look good there is a sense of identity that prevails. 
  6. Pictures of us. All too often people miss documenting the beautiful relationship between mother and child. We want pictures of us loving our babies. Always. But the moment loses its luster when we have to ask someone to capture it. 
  7. Check her Pinterest page. 
  8. Time. We want time. We want time to be together without rushing and running from one place to the next. We want to have the chance to sit in the floor and play with the toys Santa brought. We want time to be present. We might even need you to wrap a few gifts.

It’s hard to express our wants, when the needs of our families will always take priority. Thought I would help you guys out, and tell you what she really wants. Merry Christmas to all. 

❤ Shalom
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Why we need friends and sisters in the delivery room: Part two

When my oldest was six months old, I found out I was expecting my second. It was an emotional experience for all of us. We hadn’t yet adjusted to having the current tyrant in the house, and the thought of adding another brought me to my knees. I was in my first trimester and had an infant still waking 6-10 times a night from ear problems. But we survived. Barely. 
Fast forward to the third trimester.  The baby’s tubes fell out. He was in great pain again. And his favorite form of self-expression was throwing himself on the ground. This left me very pregnant and having to physically remove my chubby 12-13 month old from most all things. I kept telling my husband that I wasn’t well. I told him I needed more help wrestling the baby. I’m not certain what men hear when we say those things. Like I said before, he is wonderful and amazing- aside from these situations. I do know he didn’t hear the sense of urgency in my voice. I even went as far as to say I felt like I had made progress toward delivery. And I was still four weeks away from the safe zone. 
I had a monthly appointment scheduled for the next day. I went in. I was 4cm. My body was trying to go into labor. My husband only took me to three doctors appointments. One per child. Those were the days we found out the sex. So I went to the hospital with the girl who rode to the appointment with me. The doctors and nurses were wonderful. They administered meds and told me to go home and rest. And to stay off of my feet. My husband did come to the hospital. We got into the truck to leave and head home. He needed coffee. So he went to Starbucks. But he wanted to know what they were brewing fresh, so he parked the truck, left me sitting in it, and went inside to get his coffee, and I’m fairly sure NATS. 

I ended up having to return to the hospital that day or the next because the meds weren’t holding off my contractions. In the four days I spent in the hospital, my husband asked every new nurse that entered the room if she had read 50 Shades of Grey. He hadn’t read the book himself. But he had heard all of the talk about it and was intrigued to say the least. Not only that, but he didn’t understand when I told him that it was severely innapropriate to ask strange women that question, especially while I was in the state I was in. So, he continued his quest to discuss the book with every nurse, tech, and phlebotomist that darkened my door. At some point he convinced all of the nurses to move a bunch of stuff out of the shower they were using as a storage closet so he could shower. People aren’t generally long term customers in labor and delivery. After I was discharged and the labor had been stopped, Griff got in the hospital bed, put on a paper hat, hooked the monitors to his stomach and insisted I take his picture. 

Moving on into the safe zone, I was still unsure that I wanted him in the delivery room this time. After what happened at my last delivery, I wasn’t too sure. He promised to do better this go around. When it was time to go to the hospital, I packed the bags, the baby, and myself in the truck. I sat in the truck waiting for him to make his appearance. My husband put himself in the car. Nothing else. Big surprise. We dropped the baby off at my sister’s and headed to the hospital. 

My mom had to stop and get dinner for my poor hungry husband. This labor went fast. Luckily, this time around my sister came in to check on me. I sent her to find someone because I was certain it was time. She left and came back in. My nurse was at Subway. I told her not to come back without someone to deliver the baby. She walked out and reappeared with my doctor. Task completed. My husband did put down his cheeseburger long enough to hold one of my hands. He was quiet. The room smelled of McDonalds. But my sister was silently holding my hand, giving me strength. And Griff, well he was there. And this time I remembered to tell him to take my picture with my new baby boy. Then I’m pretty sure he finished his supper. 

❤️ Shalom

Changing traditions

This advent season I realized something. I stifle Christmas. I’m not a grinch. I don’t loathe the season, but I have never embraced all of its glory. I put up a tree and place a single wreath on the door. I buy gifts, am thankful for Christ, and attend the beautiful church service on Christmas Eve. I gather with family as so many others do. But that is kind of where it stops. 

As the child of divorced parents, holidays are hard. And for reasons that go beyond that, holidays are hard. They bring about a level of anxiety, an anticipation of chaos, guilt, worry, and dysfunction. I can feel myself worrying and anticipating the worst, long before it ever gets here. 

This year is different. I realized that by stifling Christmas and all of its beauty, I am perpetuating the exact negative feelings toward holidays that I developed as a child. I’ve always been committed to giving my children a different childhood than my own. And we work very hard for that. But if I’m skimping on my Christmas spirit because of the negative feelings I associate with holidays, I’m short-changing the kids. I’m skipping the magical part. I’m just doing the legalistic part. And dang it, the magic, the spirit, Christ, those are the best and most important parts. 

And this is where it stops. I am burying my fears, the past, and my anxiety. I went to the Dollar Store and bought tons of cheap decorations. We are listening to Christmas music every single day. We are lighting candles at night. We are talking about the wonderful gift we were given in Christ! It is so freeing to know that I am in charge of the feelings I feel toward holidays. I am also in charge of the feelings my children will associate with holidays from this point on. I have a beautiful family -Beautiful siblings, parents, in-laws, and children. I am making the memories. And my children will hopefully one day feel the warmth associated with the beautiful Gift we celebrate this season when they think of Christmas. I’m doing it big from now on people. No holding back. The birth of Christ is our gift of all things good. And this year, I’ll be celebrating God’s grace with bells on. 

❤️ Shalom