A country song.
(This is when I feel that I have completely failed as a parent. So don't expect a link.)
I did my best. But for some reason they don't really care for pop music of the 80's. Go figure.
Turns out that what doesn't kill you doesn't, in fact, make you stronger.
It makes you blonder.
Not sure how that works, exactly (considering the investment I make on a regular basis to stay browner), but since I smile and/or laugh every time I hear it, I figure it's a win-win.
Laughter IS, indeed, good medicine.
And we need all of the help we can get, right?
The Coach's birthday on Wednesday night with our parents. Good times.
I am, in turn, both completely amused by my kids (all comedians, depending on the day) and completely frustrated by them. OK. Maybe not by THEM. More like their ROOMS. OK. Maybe not by their actual ROOMS, but rather the state of complete piggishness that they seem comfortable with.
And yet, I find myself fighting the urge to obsess (Because in the long run, who really cares if the clean clothes ever get put away?) (Oh. That would be me.). While at the same time, realizing that my time is up with Son #1 - in many ways - and the fate of his ability to keep or not keep his room neat and orderly will have to be met out on a roommate come September. Yikes.
These balances. Needing to be firm. Remembering to laugh. Needing to hold them accountable. Extending grace. Needing order. Accepting the reality of LIFE. Needing some kind of sanity. Knowing it's probably not going to be this side of heaven.
These balances are my current challenge. Every day. Almost every moment. Well, except when I give up all together and watch HGTV while braiding the girls' hair (have you SEEN "Fixer Upper"? Super cute.).
And maybe we've done too much of that this Summer. The giving up. I had high hopes of reorganizing the house, getting through the piles of school papers (Don't ask how long it's been.), sorting through clothes, makes new curtains (I know, I know. . .), spending time doing projects and swimming at friends' and baking bread.
Turns out, it's a full time job just to manage these people I love. Having clean clothes and a sort of clean house and getting them all where they need to be. Which is sometimes Haiti (for two) or Mexico or Alaska or Africa.
When I can't sleep at 4:30 AM, because my mind is racing wondering if I wrote this or that down or who was supposed to have such and such form filled out or a check for this and that and DID I make that bank deposit or return those clothes or drop the shirts off at the cleaners for my Coach?
Maybe then. It's time to remember that my success as a mom is NOT determined by whether or not I get it all done. It's not even determined by whether or not my kids put their clothes up without being asked (or threatened). No, it's not even determined by whether or not my kids do right or well or what they should or shouldn't (Because HELLO they are human just like their momma!).
Nope. My success? Is found when I depend on the Lord. Cry out to Him in my short-comings and failures and overwhelmedness (bet you didn't know I could make up so many words!).
And teach my people to do the same.
Happy Summer Friday, All! There aren't many of these left. . .
(Is HGTV on this early in the AM?)