I’m happy to have my first article published at Prodigal Magazine today!
“Mommy in the Mirror” was a post I wrote in 2009, way before most of you started hanging out here, and now it’s a part of Prodigal’s Motherhood series. It’s updated and improved, but, if I’m honest, I’m still Bad Mommy.
So please check it out and drop me a note there to let me know I’m not the only one!
Tagged children, faith, God, life, Mother's Day, motherhood, parenting, Prodigal Magazine
Today I have the pleasure of hosting one of my dearest online friends, the incomparable Leanne Shirtliffe of Ironic Mom. Between her killer wit and her beautiful heart, I was smitten as soon as I met her, and of course I love a gal who’s handy with an innuendo (if you know what I mean). And, like me, she knows that the best way to handle life with twins is to laugh at every opportunity. –Tamara
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There is nothing quite like suppressing a laugh in church. I do this often with my seven-year-old twins, who expend more energy and provide more entertainment than Cirque du Soleil on speed.
Here are ten churchy things Vivian and William have done that have made me want to crawl under a pew, curl up into the fetal position, and pray that the Second Coming is imminent –like in the next thirty seconds.
10. During the sermon, William started playing a loud version of I Spy. He started with “I spy something gray.” It’s an aging congregation.
9. When the choir started singing, William put both hands over his ears and kept them that way for the length of a cantata.
8. When I led the children’s craft before the service, Vivian asked if she could have more fairies for her cross. “They’re angels,” I said. I looked at William, who was holding up his stickers. “I know those are dolphins,” I said. “I couldn’t find fish stickers.”
7. Vivian and William had a hockey brawl, fighting over who got to put our money into the collection plate. I got hit with an upper cut.
6. When the pastor asked the children what God looked like, Vivian’s hand shot up. “Half man, half woman,” she said.
5. After partaking in bread and juice for the first time in communion, William loudly asked, “What was that all about?”
4. On another Sunday, Vivian returned to our pew after having communion and announced, “Jesus tastes yummy.”
3. The next week, Vivian was first up to the communion rail, knelt, and tumbled off in a sideways somersault.
2. While watching a baptism, William backed up and rear-ended a taller-than-him candle. It was set upright before the entire congregation had to stop, drop and roll.
1. Immediately after saying the Apostles’ Creed, Vivian turned to me and asked, “What’s a virgin, Mom?”
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Leanne Shirtliffe is the mother of seven-year-old twins. She blogs at IronicMom where her motto is “If you can’t laugh at yourself, laugh at your kids.” To escape from her kids, Leanne teaches junior high and finds that dealing with ninety-seven teenagers is often easier than being trapped in a house with her own spawn. Leanne is currently finishing revising her first manuscript, tentatively titled Get That Train off Your Penis: Things I Never Thought I’d Say As a Parent.
Tagged children, Christianity, church, guest posts, humor, Ironic Mom, Leanne Shirtliffe, life, parenting, religion, twins
When I gave out a few gifts here at Christmas time, I had no idea one of them would demand so much from me. Shawn Smucker won a guest post, and as we began talking on Twitter, I learned that fostering children was a topic close to his family’s heart, and so I admitted, quietly as you can on a giant social network, that I had once been a foster mom.
It isn’t something I talk about often or in detail because, years after we stopped fostering, the emotional tangle of it all is still so often too much. And I certainly hadn’t been able to write about it yet. Writing, for me, is the most personal expression of the heart. I had never felt quite ready.
But Shawn and I became friends, and his care with writing and for people were the gentle push I needed. His would be the place to entrust this story. It was time to write a small piece, to begin to unravel the tangle.
So I wrote just a part of a story long waiting, and I grieved hard through the writing. But I came out on the other side of the page a little more solid than when I ventured in. And I’m grateful for the catharsis of finally telling this story in the way I know best– in writing, the most personal expression of the heart.
Please join me at Shawn’s blog today for my first story on fostering, Mama for a Moment.
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On March 27, Shawn’s e-book, Building a Life Out of Words, will be available on Kindle, Nook, and PDF. He tells the story of hitting rock bottom and moving his family into his parents’ basement, where, incredibly, he found his purpose: Writing. His brave story of making a living as a writer is an inspiration, and his beautiful storytelling is a gift.
You can join his mailing list to get a free chapter and a link to pre-order the book.
Posted in life
Tagged Building a Life Out of Words, children, family, foster care, life, loss, love, parenting, Shawn Smucker, writing
Today’s guest post comes from Sonny Lemmons of Looking Through the Windshield. Thoughtful and sometimes sensitive, hilarious and intermittently inappropriate, Sonny feels like a long-lost brother to me. I think you’ll enjoy his story, even if you don’t envy it. 
–Tamara
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It all starts when the day begins at 4:15 AM when a fussy toddler, who fought going to sleep the night before, decides that waking up and complaining about the lack of orange juice and Play-Doh in his room makes complete and utter sense. It continues when after 45 minutes, he falls back asleep, and you pass out from sheer exhaustion on his floor. It continues when an hour later, your back a tangle of knots and tension, you both wake up because he has managed to apparently empty five days’ worth of liquid into one overnight diaper, soaking both himself and his bed.
It continues when your spouse, who somehow managed to sleep through the crying, the stripping of the covers, and the toddler’s subsequent streaking through the house, wakes up an hour and a half later and asks if the coffee is ready yet. You already feel like you’ve had a full day’s worth of stress compacted into a handful of hours, and the look of incredulity in your eyes that you shoot as an icy response to an honest question speaks volumes about the attitude of your heart at the moment:
“You don’t know the day I’ve had.”
After the Great Cheerio Debacle of 2012 at the dining table, and after wrestling the aforementioned toddler (who, like the Hulk, apparently gets stronger the angrier he gets) into clothes which are questionably matchable, you take a few moments to yourself by taking a much-needed hot shower. It continues when the water temperature starts to become more and more tepid due to the dishwasher running at the same time as your shower. It continues when you step out of the shower only to realize you failed to grab a towel before heading into the bathroom. As you begin to get dressed, it continues as you realize you only have enough deodorant for one armpit.
It continues when, after replacing the socks and shoes your overly-zealous toddler had removed and hidden are discovered and back on his feet, you consider using a taser on him to get him into the damn car to go to the grocery store to restock the depleted pantry. It continues when the other patrons at this store look judgmentally on your parenting abilities because your child, based on his demeanor in the store, is apparently auditioning for a role in Where the Wild Things Are. It continues when the elderly woman behind you in the checkout line audibly huffs when it takes you an extra nine seconds to swipe your debit card because you’re busy trying to keep your child from sustaining a concussion after trying to dive out of the cart. The only repose you can manage, after squeezing your eyes shut and clenching a fist for a moment, is that you glower at her with as much disdain in your tired face as you can muster, and think:
“You don’t know the day I’ve had.”
It continues when your dog barks during the toddler’s afternoon nap, waking him up, cutting his nap time from the usual hour and a half down to 45 minutes.
It continues when you load the washing machine, only to discover that thanks to the load you’d washed this morning, you’re now out of detergent.
It continues when you are notified via email that the writing project you had invested months of energy and time in was being cancelled, but “thanks for your work anyway.”
It continues when you check your mail to discover an equal amount of bills and junk mail fliers.
It continues when the afternoon snack you prepare, which was “awesome” just two days ago, is now clearly a personal affront to the dignity of the toddler who refuses to touch it.
It continues when you fight back tears of frustration and exhaustion.
“You don’t know the day I’ve had.”
And yet.
It shifts when, on your way to the park to give your kid a chance to expend some energy and wear him the hell out so he’ll sleep tonight, you stop in at the local coffee shop. It shifts when a total stranger, for whatever reason, buys your drink for you. It shifts when you allow one act of random kindness to transpose in your heart and mind the thought which you have been allowing to rule over you:
“You don’t know the day I’ve had” becomes “You don’t know the day I’ve had.”
They might not have known.
But someone did. And He knew that free coffee might have just been enough. For you.
Just enough to get you to remember: The day ain’t over yet.
So get over yourself, get over your circumstances, and get on with the day you have ahead of you.
And don’t tell your wife about the taser idea.
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Sonny Lemmons (yes, that IS his real name) writes stuff. Stuff about life, faith, and the odd pop culture reference. Sometimes people read it– like THE MYTH OF MR. MOM from Portmanteau Press– but most of the time it’s like a strange form of solitary therapy.Tagged children, exhaustion, faith, family, frustration, humor, life, parenting, stay-at-home dads, stay-at-home moms
It was a day-after-day kind of day. Another day at home, twin three-year-olds whining at me, wearing on me, pulling on me and my threadbare patience. I read all about the French parents and their supremely well-behaved offspring that the entire Internet was going ga-ga over, and I was 12-years tired of my whole stay-at-home gig, and these people amazed and inspired and pissed me off, and I tried to reproduce their authoritative tone, but I guess I lacked a certain je ne sais quoi because my smallest children kept acting like total merde.
“I hate staying at home,” I confessed.
And it was selfish, this admission out loud, this burden on the man whose hands were tied to an office desk, whose heart broke a little more every time he heard over the phone that his babies were not delighted over. But his words bore no admonishment, only gentle truth: “You won’t have that forever. And then you’ll miss it, you know.”
Posted in life
Tagged children, family, frustration, life, love, motherhood, parenthood, parenting, SAHM, Why French Parents Are Superior
Today’s guest post comes from Jennifer Deibel of This Gal’s Journey. Ever since she began commenting at TOL, Jen has been a cheerful encouragement to me. It’s my pleasure now to share her honest, encouraging thoughts with you. –Tamara
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We live in a small village in Western Ireland. It’s quaint, quiet, removed. For a girl who grew up in the Arizona desert, the lush green grass, rolling hills and copious amounts of water are like chocolate to this mama’s soul: both comforting and seriously addicting. We moved here with our children nearly three years ago and I have loved nearly every minute of it.
While we are here and I am raising my wee tribe, teaching them how to bite their husband’s head off love their neighbor and live for themselves follow God, I often find them teaching me. Shocker.
Every night at bedtime, we read a story together and then pray. We typically make sure we thank God for at least one thing and ask Him to help us with at least one thing. Nearly every night, my four-year-old asks God, “And could you please make tomorrow with a little bit of rain and a little bit of sun. In Jesus’ name, amen.” (You do know adding that little phrase at the end is what guarantees your prayer will be answered, right?) Anyway.
Did I mention we have copious amounts of water here? That’s probably because it rains. A lot. No, seriously, it rains all the freaking time. It didn’t get to be the land of 40 shades of green by bathing in the sun 300 days a year. It’s not unusual for us to not see the sun for five or six days in a row. It’s also not unusual to hear my children praying at nighttime for God to please, please, please let there be sun tomorrow so they can play outside/go on their field trip/not get soaked getting from the house to the car.
There have been several times where He’s answered their prayers with a resounding “Yes!” And it’s so fun to see and hear their squeals of excitement when they realize that God really did hear them. However, there have been countless other times where He, for whatever reason (probably something lame like the balance of the global ecosystem or something), has decided to answer “No,” and we wake to rain. Again.
So, my little girl’s prayer for a “little bit of rain and a little bit of sun” was a bit confusing to me. At first I thought she might think her prayer stood more chance of being answered if she was willing to deal with both sides of the coin. Or maybe she just wanted enough sun to be able to play outside at recess. Finally, I asked her why she kept asking for that. She looked at me with her haunting, ice-blue eyes and stated matter-of-factly, “So He can make a rainbow for me.” With that tone only four-year-olds can make sound cute, that how-dumb-are-you-but-I’ll-be-nice-and-explain-it-anyway tone.
Be still my heart.
My sweet little girl was praying for a rainbow. All at once, a flood of pictures came to my mind of all the rainbows we’d seen in the last month. I remembered how with each one her joy and excitement took her bounding and bouncing all around the house/car/yard whenever she saw one. I never quite understood why she got so excited. I just thought, “This kid really likes rainbows.” Now I understand. She knows her Daddy loves her because He gives her rainbows. So, she asks Him for more. And He gives more. And she opens up to Him more. And He dotes on her more. See the cycle?
Sometimes I think I have it all figured out with my “Oh, Lords” and “If it’s Your wills” and “In Jesus’ Names.” But I miss out so much on just enjoying my Father, basking in His love for me. No, I don’t bask. I doubt. And refuse. And push away. But I want to be more like my four-year-old. I want to pray for rainbows.
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Jen is your typical American wife and mother living life, raising kids, and working, only she’s doing it in Ireland. She has been married to the love of her life, Seth, for 11 years and is extremely blessed to be mom to two delightful little girls and one hilarious little man. Jen passionately loves the Lord, her family, music, dance, writing, coffee and chocolate (not always in that order).
She writes at This Gal’s Journey and you can find her on Twitter and Facebook.
Tagged children, Christianity, faith, God, guest posts, Jennifer Deibel, life, love, parenting, This Gal's Journey
Today’s fun guest post comes from Jessica Buttram of Meet the Buttrams. Jessica has a beautiful heart and a killer wit. It’s my pleasure to share her funny stuff with you here, but it looks like you’ll have to get your own Double Stuf yourself. –Tamara
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So, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but last year a few* professional athletes participated in a league lockout, and sports fans everywhere died slow, painful deaths while being forced to endure uncontested marathons of Wife Swap.
This occurred in both the NBA and the NFL, and it got me thinking: What would a Stay-at-Home Mom Lockout look like?
First of all, according to all our tax documents, I make zero dollars. Considering that my seven-year-old makes more money than me just by losing teeth, any increase in pay would be progress, right?
But, and I’m speaking on behalf of most stay-at-home moms, money would be the LEAST of things on my list of demands.
Actually, you know what, why don’t I just draft up a copy of my hypothetical Collective Bargaining Agreement for you. Cool?
Tagged children, guest posts, humor, Jessica Buttram, life, lockouts, Meet the Buttrams, motherhood, NBA, NFL, parenting, SAHM, sports
Today’s guest post comes from Amanda Williams of Life. Edited. When she sent it to me, I was struck by its messy honesty and beautiful grace. I’m happy to pass both along to you today. –Tamara
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There was a ninety percent chance of rain, but we went anyway. One mama, one papa, two grandparents and three kids under four piled into two cars and piled out at the zoo.
We had been feeding lorikeets and herding children for about twenty minutes when the rain began. Opting for lunch over misery, our party of seven took cover in the Zoo Cafe.
It was our typical game of Maintain Your Mealtime Sanity. Papa retrieves two high chairs while Mama prevents runaways. Mama settles twins into high chairs while Papa orders lunch with extremely vocal four-year old in tow. Mama attempts to entertain hungry toddlers with stale Cheerios, one book, and crayons with no paper. Magically, food appears and the invisible timer starts ticking.
T-minus fifteen minutes until meltdown.
[Our children arenʼt much for being restrained.]
As if on cue, it begins. Sippy cups bang the tabletop. Half-chewed bites of PB&J are tossed to the floor. An animal cracker soars overhead. Squeals of delight become all out ear-piercing screams. We try all the usual remedies – threats, pacifiers, peace offerings of sugary treats, singing about the mamas on the bus going shhh shhh shhh. No dice.
I hear her before I see her. An unhappy girl, maybe twenty years old, rounds the corner on the other side of the room and yells in our general direction. “TAKE YOUR KID OUT OF HERE! Itʼs ridiculous!”
Posted in faith, life, Uncategorized
Tagged Amanda Williams, faith, grace, guest post, life, Life Edited, parenting
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