Messy Mommy Jobs #11 & Link Up

Messes. I wish I could ban them while my foot heals. 

But no. They want to paint.

That helpless feeling 

when your kid is covered in paint,

and you can't move quickly!

Good thing this girl is kind to her mama.

And she cleaned up her mess, too.

Smoothies-

fun to drink, even more fun to spit all over your brother.

 Hey boys wanna help me make bread?
(Yay, mama!)

Ok just let me put away these 2 dishes....

(What? They were bored for those 5 seconds. They had to do something!)

Ok, now help me carry the wheat.

Don't spill it, don't spill it, don't spill it, don't....

If you have a blog, link up with me below! ( Links back are always appreciated!)

Your post can be anything at all mess-related; cleaning tips, organizing tips, thoughts on a messy life, a messy craft project, or just fun pictures of your kids doing something messy!

mono-tasking

Food for thought this weekend...


What I learned from a Buddhist monk
The word "mono-tasking" will forever stick in my brain.  I pray that God help me learn to do this!
It may not be possible all of the time (especially with small children!) but perhaps I will learn to be this way  at least some of the time!


And now, I am turning off online distractions for the weekend.

When I mother, I shall mother.
And when I eat, I shall eat.
When I nap, I will nap.
And when I see their little gifts, I shall truly see them.

(with the help of God!)

Join me?

The perfect dose

Afternoon sun, children playing, but my Little Man is grumpy.

He climbs up, snot-covered, begging for a place on my lap. I wrap him in my arms and my jacket.

He rests, a content comfort-taker, in my arms.

He is wrapped in the warmth of mom and God.

We hide together from the cool breeze.  The perfect dose of sunshine rests on us, and we see no reason to move.  My wedding ring reflects rainbows, but I think of this boy, and his forever-life, made to last longer even than the diamond I wear.  I hold this life in its small beginnings, this little, eternal life.  

A gust of wind reaches his bare legs, and he complains.  I fix his small problem, gladly, and he rests again.

On my lap and in my care I feel the light weight of a little boy. But what is the weight of his life, his eternal soul?  I cannot comprehend the gravity of this moment, this vocation. I fear it would crush me if I could.

Yet at this moment, his heaviness does not oppress.

My son and my God have surrounded me with gentle, forever-warmth.

I receive the sun in its perfect dose, and I am also a comfort-taker.

(Book Review: The Shallows)

Do the tools we use change us even as we use them?

The author makes a compelling case that they do, and he urges us consider how the Net is changing our brains.

He provides a brief and fascinating overview of major technological changes throughout history- the map, the clock, the printing press- and explains how these inventions have forever changed society and even the way we think. He explains neuro-plasticity and argues that new technologies even change the physical shape of our brains- as we learn new abilities, we lose old ones.

”Our indulgence in the pleasures of informality and immediacy has led to a narrowing of expressiveness and a loss of eloquence.” 108

The author is not an alarmist or a radical. He is not urging his readers to unplug, move to the mountains, and hide from the evil Net. 

However, he makes a strong case that our online lives are changing the way we think and interact, and some of these changes are not good. He urges us to reflect on these things, and even as we use this technology, to use it wisely. We must guard our ability to read deeply, to connect emotionally, and to think logically about complicated issues. 

A personal note: As I read this I wanted to prove the author wrong, to focus completely on his ideas with all my attention, to prove to him that though I am almost always online, I am still capable of "deep reading." Yet, I found the urge to share what I am reading with those online IMMEDIATELY impossible to resist (hence my frequent goodreads updates and a few facebook quotes.) I also typed notes as I read, as I know that I rarely retain more difficult ideas if I do not get them "down." 

Yes, I am as he says, a word processor.

As I read through chapter 3, I also answered five texts, put in a movie for my children, and handed the kindle to the 2yr old because he was bored with the movie.

And I asked myself, is this just life nowadays? Why should I fight it? 

After reading this book, I have decided that yes, this is modern life, and yes, I should fight it. I will not hide from it, but I am newly motivated to fight it with strict boundaries, and to exercise my brain in more focused ways. I do not want to be one of those thoughtful people who "comfortably into the permanent state of distraction that defines the online life." p.112

Do you relate? Read this book. 

And now, a few of my favorite quotes- with my comments in italics.

Whether I’m online or not, my mind now expects to take in information the way the Net distributes it: in a swiftly moving stream of particles. Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like a guy on a Jet Ski. 7

And the speed is exhilarating, isn't it?

It wasn’t just that so many of my habits and routines were changing as I became more accustomed to and dependent on the sites and services of the Net. The very way my brain worked seem to be changing. It was then that I began worrying about my inability to pay attention to one thing for more than a couple of minutes. At first I’d figured that the problem was a symptom of middle-age mind rot. But my brain, I realized, wasn’t just drifting. It was hungry. It was demanding to be fed the way the Net fed it—and the more it was fed, the hungrier it became. 16

Hungry for data, for connection, for fast-paced life... even if my real life around me is fast paced already!

Even the earliest silent readers recognized the striking change in their consciousness that took place as they immersed themselves in the pages of a book. The medieval bishop Isaac of Syria described how, whenever he read to himself, “as in a dream, I enter a state when my sense and thoughts are concentrated. Then, when with prolonging of this silence the turmoil of my memories is stilled in my heart, ceaseless waves of joy are sent me by inner thoughts, beyond expectation suddenly arising to delight my heart.” Reading a book was a meditative act, but it didn’t involve a clearing of the mind. It involved a filling, or replenishing, of the mind. Readers disengaged their attention from the outward flow of passing stimuli in order to engage it more deeply with an inward flow of words, ideas, and emotions. That was—and is—the essence of the unique mental process of deep reading. 65

Yes! and this is why an hour of surfing around the internet does not refresh me like an hour of reading a book!  

“The Net’s interactivity gives us powerful new tools for finding information, expressing ourselves, and conversing with others. It also turns into lab rats constantly pressing levers to get tiny pellets of social or intellectual nourishment.” 117

They are yummy, but  yes, they are tiny.

Imagine filling a bathtub with a thimble; that’s the challenge involved in transferring information from working memory into long-term memory. By regulating the velocity and intensity of information flow, media exert a strong influence on this process. When we read a book, the information faucet provides a steady drip, which we can control by the pace of our reading. Through our single-minded concentration on the text, w e can transfer all or most of the information thimbleful by thimbleful, into long-term memory and force the rich associations essential to the creation of schemas. With the Net, we face many information faucets, all going full blast. Our little thimble overflows as we rush from one faucet to the next. We're able to transfer only a small portion of the information to long-term memory, and what we do transfer is a jumble of drops from different faucets, not a continuous, coherent stream from one source. 125

What an analogy. This makes me think.... I often do feel like the one rushing from faucet to faucet...

The development of a well-rounded mind requires both an ability to find and quickly parse a wide range of information and a capacity for open-ended reflection. There needs to be time for efficient data collection and time for inefficient contemplation, time to operate the machine and time to sit idly in the garden. We need to work in Google's "world of numbers," but we also need to be able to retreat to Sleepy Hollow. The problem today is that we're losing our ability to strike a balance between those two very different states of mind. Mentally, we're in perpetual locomotion. 168

What do you think?
The Net is here to stay, and there are many reasons to celebrate this.  But consider the possible negative effects as stated above- are you noticing similar things in your own life? Is it worth fighting against the tide, or shall we just learn to be content here in the shallows?

Interested?
Read this review, too.
and also, read the book

His Words make good earplugs. (Hobbling Mama #2)

There are books on the floor, but I need to ice my foot. I sit here, trying to quiet the voices of things left undone in this house. They don't understand why I'm not listening to their demands. I usually do. The crooked, broken, sticky messy things nag me, not caring about my injury.

The little boys are aware of my injury, so much so that they are using it to their advantage.  A mom who cannot move quickly does not have to be obeyed quickly.  A mom on crutches might let it go, just this one time, and maybe a few more.

Things are slipping out of control.

Yet they are finally sleeping, and it is raining.
I sit with my Bible and my laptop, and I try to grab just one little moment of peace.

The things undone laugh at me.
Peace cannot be found in all this clutter.

But distraction can.
I open my email, my blogger dashboard, my facebook.
And it feels like more clutter.  More nagging. No peace.
I close the laptop.



1 Peter
Peter, and apostle of Jesus Christ,
to those who reside as aliens, scattered throughout Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, who are chosen....

To those who reside as aliens, who are scattered- yes, I am part of this. I am part of God's family, promised life but living in a dying world.  I am not at home here.

Who are chosen.
Chosen.  My thoughts rest in this word for a moment.
I am chosen. Loved.

...according to the foreknowledge of God the father, by the sanctifying word of the Spirit, unto obedience and sprinkling with His blood: May grace and peace by yours in the fullest measure.

Yes, His precious blood, His body given for me.  His death means forgiveness for me. His blood means grace. His grip on me...
His grip means peace.
I am caught up in the work of the Trinity.

The boys sleep. The rain from heaven falls gently, and from my window I see the thirst of the earth satisfied.  I see quiet growth, and green, cared-for life.

And I want to take a picture of it, but my foot and my God remind me to be still.

I am still.
And my ears are full of His Word, so I cannot hear the jeers of the things undone.
I listen to the soft rain shower, watch His kindness to the earth.  I consider how much more He cares for me.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to his great mercy has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you, who are protected by the power of God, through faith, for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.  

In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials...

1 Peter 1:1-6

Thank you Father, for the joy and peace that is found in Your grip.
Love, your daughter.

Troll Mama Workout

Troll mama workout (by Carrie Cook)

1. Move sofa out of the way.
2. Replace Disney DVD with exercise video.
3. Explain to biggest troll that the ladies on the video aren't being naughty, exercise clothes sometimes show bellies like bathing suits.
4. Shoo baby troll away from cords.
5. Praise middle troll for trying to exercise too.
6. Pry baby troll off of your legs any time you stand still for longer than 2 seconds.
7. Answer no fewer than 15 questions (some repeated) for middle troll.
8. Request that the biggest troll pull the baby troll off your back.
9. Keep reminding big trolls that you need space so you don't injure them.
10. Restart DVD when baby troll commandeers the remote.
11. Chase down weights / any other gear that trolls have confiscated when you're not looking.
12. Watch out for trolls using you as a tunnel.
13. Hug any trolls you accidentally bump or knock over.
13. Perform various exercises throughout while the big trolls tell you that's not what the fitness ladies are doing.
14. Collapse on the floor at the end of the cool-down with exhaustion that has little to do with exercise.

The Trolls

Hobbling mama #1

Here I am, with my foot in the air, resting.

A minor stress fracture or muscle strain, I think.

Rest is in order.

This wouldn't be so bad if I could actually handle it with grace.

It barely hurts.
I am helped by my children, husband, friends.
I am commanded to be still.
It wouldn't be so bad, if only I could handle it with grace.

Yet I am restless in my rest.
Last week, slowing down and turning off the screens, was rest for my soul even in the busyness that filled our days. This week, my body is not allowed the normal busyness, but my soul wiggles and fights within me.

I sit with my feet up while my daughter makes dinner.
While my friend cleans my kitchen.
While my husband puts children to bed,
and children go to sleep without mommy tucks. And they understand, sort of.
They bring me stuffed animals to comfort me, and I feel forgiven for not getting up.

I receive grace with skin on, and I am grateful, but I hate it.

The Martha in me writhes in agony. 
And I could go to the screens, I could busy myself with countless digital distractions.
It almost feels like a way to rebel from this forced rest.
Artificial busy-ness. But it is not rest, nor is it productivity.

I lost myself in a wonderful novel yesterday, and that was good.
But it was not rest.

I try to rely on the little people for this and that, but it requires so many words. I am worn out from parenting from an armchair.  "Please bring me the red book on the floor, on the FLOOR, the BOOK, the RED book, no THE RED ONE!"
If only they knew how difficult it was, perhaps they would not wrestle around like kids instead of listening, and perhaps I would not erupt in angry words, words directed at them but anger flowing from my unrest.

And I fear even putting words to the emotions because they are ridiculous, overblown, sinful.  Yet I find myself angry:

at the "injustice" of being less than 100% healthy and mobile.
at a family for not seeing what I see in this house, the never-ending list of things to be done, for stopping to chat with me instead of doing, doing, doing the things that should be done around here.
at the ridiculous sympathy offered to me by others.
at being an object of help, of charity
at the fact that I actually need that help and charity.

I am cared-for.
And I fight it like a baby fighting a nap.
I contort my body in all directions, squirming and moving away from the help I need.

This is a minor inconvenience, and I am a big, big girl.
I should be able to handle this without my sin flaring up so bad.

This wouldn't be so bad if I could actually handle it with grace.

And it's funny, in a way.
One would think I would know how to be weak and loved by now;
to worry less about "handling it with grace" and lean more heavily on His grace.

Sometimes, I think the Christian life is simply learning the same lessons over and over again.
Ever feel that way?

be a charity case

Wrecked

Jeff Goins, in his newest book, urges us to get Wrecked- to allow our lives to be shattered by the needs of others.

His writing is captivating and his goal is noble.  He does not shield the reader from the suffering that comes when one allows their own heart to be pierced.  He is not offering a secret path to a happier life; rather, he is encourages us to stop obsessing about our own happiness, and instead, to love.

"When we intersect with the needs of a dying world, we realize our talents, gifts, and passions are not merely ours to enjoy; they are intended as sacrifices. “You think the people of this country exist to provide you with position,” the brave William Wallace
told a group of cowardly Scottish nobles. “I think your position exists to provide those people with freedom.” p13

"We want our lives to mean something. We want to be able to make our parents and children proud. We want to be able to stand before God with confidence when He asks us how we spent our time here. Maybe accomplishing this is messier than we thought. Maybe something can only be born when something else dies.  Maybe our “coming alive” feels like being dragged through the dirt. Maybe you and I are hanging by a thread of grace for most of our lives and we’re expected to be humble, not haughty, with the breaks we've been given. Maybe we’re supposed to pay good deeds forward. Maybe we’re supposed to think what’s in it for me? far less than we do. Maybe we need to sacrifice more. Maybe it won’t feel like a sacrifice at all, but more like the sensation of becoming unnumbed." (p.41)

Though he mentions Christ, Jesus is largely presented as our example to follow in this book. I would have liked to see the author encourage God's children (who are wounded and wrecked on behalf of others)  to run to Him, to His Word, over and over, for the strength and help they need to suffer-with.  This will not make the suffering go away, of course, but it is the only refuge and hope for a child of God in this life.

We will not stand before God with confidence based on our actions of our compassion, noble as they may be. Our confidence comes only from Christ and rests completely on His grace towards us on the cross.  He forgives, and He loves, and He teaches us to love. I agree with Jeff, that this is a messy process.  This un-numbing, the loving, will be nothing like we expect.

Maybe you and I are hanging by a thread of grace for most of our lives...
I am sure this is true... we hang, or we live pridefully unaware that we are hanging, and we go about our days. If we understood, really understood how dependent we are on His love, His grace, and every moment, we would be terrified. And yet, if we understood how strong is that thread by which we hang, how great is his love for us that holds us steady, well, that would change everything.

God, keep changing my everything.

Have you been wrecked-- have you had your life shattered by the needs of others? 

 I'd love to hear your story.

I didn't mean it. (Screen-free week reflections.)

Mamas need to have down time: We need time with God, and we also need time just for ourselves.

So what was I thinking when I took away my favorite way to spend my down time?

Isn't my life challenging enough without trying to go “screen-free” for a week?

I knew it would be harder.

I thought it would be nearly impossible.

Monday, 8:05 am, I thought, Oh no, is is really only 8:05 am?

Tuesday afternoon I realized: The internet is a good source of calorie- free entertainment. I’d better watch it or I’m going to gain ten pounds this week.

But now, at the end of screen-free week, I wonder:

Why does everything seem to be going so smoothly?

We’ve had fights, but also, adventures. 

We’ve made memories. We’ve been busy.

And instead of feeling crazy and drained, I feel… refreshed. Calm. Grateful.

And I almost don’t want to feel like this.

I didn't mean for this to be a lifestyle change.

I just wanted to do a little experiment.

I just wanted to try something new for a week.

I wanted to shake up our normal. To force the kids to play outside.

To hear them singing silly songs on the trampoline instead of the theme song to Johnny Test.

I wanted them to learn and grow and interact and really see each other.

And yet, I’m the one who sees.

A normal morning

In the morning, after I send the big kids to school, I usually let the little ones watch cartoons while I regroup.

I relax with my coffee, in front of the computer, checking in with my calendar and my email and my social network and my blog and (theoretically) God too, at least if there happens to be nothing interesting on the internet. They watch a cartoon or two, until I am ready to engage with them again, or until they are fighting. They are almost always naughty before I am “ready.” And so it goes.

A screen-free morning

I wake up with a healthy fear of the new day.

It’s going to be more of a challenge without TV, I think. I immediately pray for patience and energy, and I form a game plan. Lately it has been warmer, so I dress the preschoolers while the big kids get ready for school. When they are ready, we are ready— at least, ready enough. I have a cup of coffee by then. I may or may not have brushed my hair. No matter. We go out, while the sun is barely up, and we walk the big kids to school. We walk slow, collect bugs, wave to the school bus. And the big kids hug the little ones, one by one. Then I hold my coffee out to the side when they run at me for a goodbye tackle-hug. Coffee spills on the sidewalk. Little ones have discovered an earthworm, or a birds’ nest, or a piece of bark that looks like a dagger. And they tell mommy, because everything must be told to mommy when you are little. And mommy is not in a hurry, so she listens. She really listens.

flower snow

I just wanted to force my kids to play in the treehouse, to get fresh air, to imagine.

I didn’t mean to breathe it in with them.

I just wanted them to read more books, hear the birds, notice the sunset.

I didn’t want to be swept up with them.

I didn’t want to realize I’d been missing things, too.

I didn’t want to… repent.

Saturday came, and with it rain. A movie night was in order, and the children were newly grateful for the privilege.

And I am grateful, too, for a week of moments to cherish, for a fresh perspective.

For spring.

For the mercy of God.

For technology, and for moments without technology.

For my vocation in this tiny home, and for the freedom to let headlines and social networking go for a time.

For the freedom to just be who I am in this little life, to these little people, and for His grace that makes that enough.

What I had thought would be a challenge ended up being (mostly) a break for my scattered mind.

It was a slow pace, and fewer things pulling me.

It was a week of ears, eyes, and heart opening.

All good things are gifts from God, and technology is certainly good.

But I start this new week with new motivation to keep boundaries around this good, that it does not crowd out those things that are better. 

How do you balance these things in your life?

Did anyone else go scree- free this week?


I know this isn't a typical health/fitness post, but I'm filing it under Weak and Lovely, too. This is the best thing I've done for my mental health in a long time.

Don't read my blog this week.

We're embarking an adventure this week.

We're going screen-free.

Our TV is covered up, ready for an entire week's rest.

We've made our list of fun things to do without technology.

They got quite excited as we talked about this at the table.

With every idea they got louder, and louder, and LOUDER...

Play in the sandbox!

Climb trees!

Go to the park!

Play in the dirt!

Play dress up!

Board Games!

Duct tape our mouths shut and wave our arms to communicate!

Have a banana fight!

Eat Marcus for dinner!

Poop our pants!

(I refused to put  the last three on the list, but  I did OK the duct tape.)

our screen-free list

Plus, I can feel myself getting distracted from my primary vocation. It's time to unplug. The  weather is getting nice, and I think we could use a little fresh air. A little re-focusing. A little human interaction.  It's gonna kill me, but I think I'll even  turn off my computer this  week too. (I expect some major withdrawal symptoms.)

And they are interrupting me even as I write this post.  But this time, instead of shoo'ing them, I'll just quit typing.

I'll let you know how it goes next Monday!

(assuming we survive!)

Consider joining me!