in a pit... with a toddler... on a snowy day.

So I find myself in the unenviable position of living in a pit of despair. 

It sounds dramatic, I know. 

But I have never been a person who is known to be lacking in drama so there you go. 

I want to blame it on the weather... because February. Grey, rain, more grey, more rain. 

But I can't.

I have to blame it on my toddler. 

If you have never experienced daily interactions with a two year old, it goes a little something like this...

Don't eat that. 

Don't put your finger in there. 

Please don't put that in your mouth. 

Stop hitting your brother. 

Don't climb that. 

Don't sit on that. 

Don't use that to climb that to sit on that. 

Please stay in bed. 

Please go to sleep.

Please go back to sleep. 

Please go back to bed. 

I love you, too. 

and then you do it again the next day. and again the next day. and again the next day. 

If insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, then parenting a toddler is borderline psychosis... knowing you will not get a different result but still doing the same thing over and over again. Because if you stop saying "Don't eat that, don't put your finger in there, please stop hitting your brother," then somebody is going to get poisoned and you're going to end up at the Emergency Room and ain't nobody got time for that! (Plus, you know, you love the kid. So there's that...) 

And, in the midst of all this just-trying-to-keep-your-toddler-alive, you have to plan healthy, home-cooked meals because vegetables are important, and have age-appropriate development activities so the kid won't be too dumb, and read at least 12 books a day so the kid will be an early reader, and limit screen time so they won't grow up to be a lazy ass, and make sure you give them plenty of eye contact and hugs so they won't become a serial killer. 

And, oh yes, essential oils. 

And it's easy to buy a plaque from Hobby Lobby that says, "Excuse the mess, we're making memories" or "My only goal is to keep the tiny Humans alive," but eventually someone has to cook dinner and do the dishes. Because, eventually, you do run out of forks. (And your kids look at you weird when you make them eat eggs with a spoon. I heard that somewhere...) And in the three minute time span that it takes you to put away the food from dinner, your unsupervised toddler will decide to get out of bed create chaos. And when you discover that she has un-planted everything that you planted in new pots just the day before, you will scream and use the words "Just wait until your Daddy gets home!!" Then you will put her in the pack n play and go downstairs and clean the kitchen. 

So yes, life with a toddler, specifically a 2 almost 3 year old, is monotonous and frustrating and can lead to a pit of despair. 

But there's also this... the pink wind spinner that she insisted on buying when she asked to go to the craft store the other day...

So even on the greyest day, we have a bright pink, happy spot in our garden. 

And there's this...

When she puts on her Princess Anna dress and a Superhero mask to play Batman and Robin with her brothers... 

And there's this...

When she dances with her Daddy in the kitchen and her joy lights up a room. 

Life with a toddler is not easy. But strong women do change the world. They just have to survive the toddler years... :)

in His own words (part 2)

(This is the blog post where I'll get to the point about God changing things... I hope. It's early... like the sun-hasn't-even-made-that-little-pink-strip-in-the-sky early.So hopefully, the kids will stay asleep and I can finish this.)

Last year, Mike gave me the day off for my birthday. Well, sort of the day off... I was still nursing so the baby had to come with me, but one kid is easier than three, right? It was a beautiful, late August day; the kind where the mornings are starting to get a little cool and damp and the sun is starting to sleep just a little bit longer, so the kids are also starting to sleep just a little bit longer. The baby and I went for a walk on an trail here in Lexington that leads you past old farmhouses and homesteads. And there's a waterfall. And a reservoir. And it was beautiful and peaceful and we nursed in a prairie under a grove of trees. (No, we really did that... the place was amazing.)

So we finished our lovely hike in this gorgeous place, and it was only 10:30 in the morning... and I couldn't think of anything else to do. 

Because without my kids, I'm a non-person. I am not anything. I have no hobbies, no talents. (Well, I watched a lot of Stargate SG-1 and the Great British Baking Show while I was nursing, but I don't think those count.) Right now, all of my energy is pointed towards keeping three tiny humans alive, and without them, I can't think of anything to do. If there is a quiet moment, I simply wait for the next minute that they'll need me. Because somebody ALWAYS needs me. 

So on my birthday, when I have the day off, and I don't need to think about the children (except the one who is with me and smiles a lot, despite the fact that she gives the camera a, "Why are you photographing me?" face every time we try to get her on "film"), I can't think of anything to do. Standing in the parking lot, turning in circles, feeling like a failure, because I can't think of one thing I would like to do that doesn't involve my children.

So I went to Target to buy diapers. 

And I ran into a friend... who was out shopping with her kids, and she said, "Yeah, that's where we are right now. It would take 4 days to get out of Mom mode. So really, you need a week off, and we don't get that right now. And it sucks."

And I thought, "You know? She's right."So I went to Mellow Mushroom for lunch because they are the ONLY pizza place that will use Vegan Cheese and they also have an amazing hummus that they make with fresh basil. (Yum.) And then I went home. 

Happy Birthday to me.

Now here's the God part... God gave me three gifts on my birthday. Three birthday presents that He just handed to me, even though I didn't pray for them, I wasn't looking for them, and I wasn't "eagerly anticipating" them. He just gave them to me.

Side note: and that's kind of a big deal to me right now because my main love language used to be physical touch but with three small children who have no concept of personal space, my main love language is now "get off me!" (My poor husband... I literally had a panic attack one night in bed when he reached for my hand and I screamed at him, "Really? I can't have one minute of no one touching me? REALLY?" Sorry, honey.) Due to this lack of space around me, my main love language has switched to gifts. (Again, sorry honey. I used to ask for "a walk in the woods, holding your hand," and this year, for our anniversary, I was all "(sob, sniff) And you didn't buy me anything!... You blew it, man!"

So gifts. That's how I know someone loves me. And God gave me three birthday presents. See? Kind of a big deal for me. :) 

Gift 1: The day before my birthday, I was in Joann Fabrics with the kids and a woman handed me 2 yards of dinosaur-printed flannel that the 4-year-old had been admiring. She had purchased it for me because, "Any mom who can handle three small children as well as you are is obviously a great mom." (Seriously, an angel dressed as an old woman with big hoop earrings.)

Gift 2: Running into an encouraging friend at Target who told me that I wasn't crazy, I was just a busy momma.

Gift 3: When I got home, there was a stalk of fresh basil waiting for me. (Okay, so this one I did ask for... sort-of.  While I was eating the amazing hummus at Mellow Mushroom, in my head I thought, "I would love some to have some fresh basil at home.") When Mike had taken the boys to play at the park in our Community Garden, one of our neighbors was there weeding her garden plot. She snipped off a stalk of her own basil and handed it to Mike, "Take this to your wife for her birthday." So there was this pile of gorgeous, earthy smelling basil leaves waiting for me when I got home.

And I didn't realize any of this... until the next day in church. And we're standing there, singing... and suddenly it hits me... God gave me three presents for my birthday! And then my toddler hit me as he was trying to climb into the chair backwards and then he knocked over my travel mug full of coffee and the baby, who was in the Ergo on my front, started whimpering. 

And 10 minutes later, I cried and I prayed, "God, I can't even say "Thank you." You do this amazing thing for me, and I don't even have one minute that I can say "Thank you" and worship you for how awesome you are." And God responded, 

"I know. You can't reach for me right now because your hands are full. But I can reach for you."

And then I sat down and ugly cried. Because He's right. My whole life I had been taught that if I wanted to be close to God, then I needed to make it happen. I needed to pray. I needed to sing. I needed to read my Bible, or have a "quiet time" or take a walk in the woods to really get close to God's creation and His presence. But here was God, in all of his amazing, wonderfulness saying, Here I am, getting close to you.

And that's when I realized what the Holy Spirit was all about. Sure, he provides healing. Sure, he helps us make good choices. Sure, he convicts us when we sin. But his whole point, the reason that Jesus went back to Heaven after his resurrection, was so the Holy Spirit could come and be the presence of God on Earth. The Holy Spirit is here so that God can be close to us. 

So why did I feel like I had to try so hard to do it on my own?!!???

So then what is the point of reading your Bible, writing in a journal, having a quiet time, taking a walk to enjoy God's creation? Because God didn't tell me that all of those things were pointless... He said I didn't have time for them NOW. So if the point of those activities wasn't personal holiness or "coming closer to God" what is the point of doing them???

A few months back, our Pastor gave an amazing sermon that answered that question. In this sermon, he cited two psychological studies that were researching pairs of people working on a challenging task. Both studies concluded that doing something together, in a non-stressful environment, prepares you to work together when faced with a challenge. He used these studies to unpack the verses of Romans 8:1-18, namely how to live life by the Spirit. His suggestion was that the point of reading your Bible, quiet times, etc. was to provide that non-stressful hobby which you and the Holy Spirit can participate in, so when times of struggle come, you can more easily cooperate with Him. 

So when finding a quiet time to have a "quiet time" was stressing me out, God was like, "Stop it. I'm right here." So now we find other "non-stressful hobbies" to do together... like coloring pages that have bible verses on them which I can color while my children are coloring. Or sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee, thanking God for my porch and coffee, while my children spray each other with a hose. Or making full use of the church nursery and kids programs when all three of our children agree to go so that I can worship and listen to the sermon without distraction. And these seem to be enough for right now. 

When I can get some time to myself, I usually take my Bible. 

Sometimes I read it. Sometimes I don't. 

But I'm trusting that if God has something important to tell me, He'll tell me. 

Because right now, I have children who enjoy playing "Dino-wrestling Jamboree" and they need me to referee. :) 

on being Ground Cover

One of the hardest questions for me to answer right now is, "So what are you doing these days?" 

I used to be able to answer that question which something cool and shocking, like, "Oh, you know, living in Africa... yeah, we have lions but I only had to worry about being eaten once when one escaped from a local, illegal zoo..."  Now that question throws me a bit and I respond, "Well, Monday is laundry day... and I vacuum on Tuesdays..." 

A friend of mine pointed out last week that I like to have things categorized and set in place. (Take one look at my linen closet and you will know that this is true.) So now that I no longer live overseas, I'm no longer a teacher and I'm not even a church janitor anymore, how do I categorize my life? What do I do now?

As I was working in my front yard one day, and wrestling over this question with God, I felt like He answered, "You're Ground Cover." 

You know, like grass. 

or hostas. 

Here's the thing... we have weeds growing in our backyard. Lots and lots of weeds. Big ones. Seriously, the spots around the house that never had a garden or bushes or flowers planted are beds of weeds... and they are at this moment attempting a hostile take over of the rest of the backyard. (I am readying my battle armor to wage an all out war early next week... lets see how they like my friends known as Vinegar and Boiling Water. They will rue the day they attempted to take over my backyard! Hahahahahahah... ahem, excuse me... sorry about that.) In my extended research (aka "I googled this a lot!") the advice that keeps popping up when you search under organic weed control is "plant more grass." Apparently, grass roots can grow to about 6 inches deep, while weed roots stay at a depth of 2-3 inches only. So with proper watering, your grass will grow and literally squeeze out the weeds. 

So I thought about this one day as I was weeding my garden, a place with no grass and lots of weeds.  

I think we all need Ground Cover in our lives... grass that grows and helps to "squeeze out the weeds." Weeds like temptation, or depression, or busyness... or even the momentary despair that comes from having something that you really like to do but never having time to do it.  So I'm Ground Cover for my husband... he gets home from work and I make dinner so he gets to spend twenty minutes playing guitar. (He always offers to help because he's awesome like that... but really, I just want to listen to the sounds of his music coming from the front of the house!) 

and over the past few weeks, I've been ground cover for a few other people... by baking cookies and holding babies and making grilled cheese sandwiches. These people usually feel bad that I "get stuck" doing these things and I want to respond, "No, this is fine, it's what I do. I'm Ground Cover." But it would take a lot of explaining and I'm afraid it would just make them feel bad... you know, me calling myself grass and all. But these people have been Ground Cover for me in the past... helped me survive scorching drought, a dandelion outbreak, grub infestation... so I can return the favor. Even if they hadn't, it's still what I'm called to right now. 

So what am I doin' these days? 

Oh, you know... I'm Ground Cover.  It's cool, and I don't have to worry about being eaten by a lion... they're carnivores after all...

ahem. sorry about that... again.   

on Weeding

A lot has changed in my life... I'm no longer single, I no longer live in Africa or Cincinnati, I'm not legally a Connell anymore. But some things have stayed the same... I still like to play in the garden and a few "oak tree" friends have followed me into the marriage. 

Every Tuesday I visit with such a friend who owns a farm. (And by visit I mean we talk non-stop as we irrigate fields, build tomato cages and pull weeds.) She thanks me by filling a bucket full of veggies (which I have used to make cucumber relish, salsa verde, fried green tomatoes and bruschetta) but really, I do it to hang out with her. I only pretend to "do it for the veggies." 

Last Tuesday, we pulled weeds... lots and lots of weeds. (I've also pulled lots and lots of weeds from my new yard, but those are special weeds which will be blogged about in the future.) As we were pulling a tractor full of weeds (seriously, if you feel like you need more weeds in your life, become a farmer) I was learning things, a usual occurrence when I am working in the garden. Things about God, about myself and about where I'm supposed to be now. 

Here's the thing about weeds... they're actually plants. (I know, shocking!) Plants that have flowers, plants that reproduce in the usual plant like manner, plants that use chlorophyll to process sunlight. What makes a daffodil different than a daisy? Or a thistle different than a rose? ("This-tle!" she screams as she raises her fist in the air in memory of the battles fought and the victories both won and yet to be won.) Or crab grass different than ornamental grass?

"Plants give us fruit and vegetables!" you may shout, attempting to make your case for the superiority of plants over weeds. But I ask you this... if a volunteer tomato plant springs up in a row of watermelon, is it still a plant or has it become a weed? It is stealing nutrients from the watermelon plants, it is stealing water from the "purposely planted" plant, it is growing taller than the watermelon vine and shielding it from much needed sunlight... has the volunteer plant now become a weed? 

I say yes. 

It seems to me that the thing that makes a weed a weed is the fact that it's planted where it's not supposed to be planted. Sometimes this is fine... that day of weeding on the farm we came across a number of tomatillo plants that had "volunteered" in a row of zucchini that didn't survive the drought. We let those live since nothing else was trying to grow there. But the ornamental grass that was shading the cabbage and growing into the snap pea screen, we pulled up and I brought home and planted in a pot on my front porch. (Yes, I now have a "weed" growing in a pot on my front porch.)

So the insight that I offer today, as I am considering it on a daily basis, is where in my life am I planted and where am I just "being a weed?"