Category Archives: Parenting

Babyproofing… or not.

My friend Jessica started blogging when she became pregnant with her (so-adorable-I-can-hardly-stand-it) son. I immediately started reading for a few reasons.

1. Jess is brilliant. Like, studied-at-Oxford brillant.

2. Jess is a fantastic and downright HILARIOUS writer. She’s so honest, open, and real about her experiences that it feels like you’re sitting in her living room, listening to her tell you her stories.

3. Jess offers really valuable insight for first time moms. Everything from choosing a birthing plan to breastfeeding to the innate desire to compete with other new moms.

Last week, Jess asked me to share my insights & philosophy on baby-proofing. I hesitate talking about our parenting choices for fear of sounding judgmental (and subjecting myself to judgment), but I went ahead and jumped in. Erik and I are very adventure-nurture parents, and we are VERY minimalistic on a lot of fronts when it comes to parenting. Our philosophy on baby-proofing is pretty consistent with that.

Hop on over to Jess’s blog to read the post!

 

Posted on November 14, 2011 by Nish

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Posted in Guest Blog, Parenting

Slowing down the hard days.

We’ve had countless time-outs today, and I’ve said “No! We do not hit the pups!” so much, my voice might be going hoarse. My Rowan is physical these days, with swinging arms and limbs. The arched back and clenched fists when its time for bed, the thrashing of his head from side to side when he doesn’t want to get in his car seat.

His inability to speak plays out in maximum physical frustration. It’s wearing me thin & it makes the days longer than most.

I work hard to slow him down. I rub his back as he plays with his firetruck. I lay on the floor with him when he cries in frustration. Sometimes, a little Disney Channel is the best thing to calm his frayed nerves. I’ll do anything to draw him in, to tame the frayed nerves and tight muscles.

He eventually calms down and he eventually takes naps and he eventually goes to bed. When those moments of quiet come, I find myself sitting on the edge of seats. I’m pacing, looking for something that needs finishing. I’m as tightly wound as he was and my head starts to pound. A reminder that I need to slow down, too. Sometimes, I need someone to rub my back and lay on the ground with me.

My relaxation today comes in a hot cup of chai, and it comes in two knitting needles, clicking together over and over to make a hat out of rich-colored, soft merino. Both the chai and the knitting are new to my senses, and both seem to be working wonders. I’m trying now to slow down the hard days, to be mindful of my nerves and reactions. The warm cup soothes and the knitting is cathartic. Tension eases quick and I’m made calm.

As mothers, it’s important to know what winds us up, but it’s equally important to learn what calms us down. We need to know these things about ourselves as much as we need to know them about our children. 

There’s always something to get done. There’s always something waiting for your attention. But maybe today, take a moment to discern when YOU need some attention. It’s okay to take time away… time to be, time to calm, time to breathe. Rough day? Long hours? Not much sleep? Take some time today, mama. Take a moment to calm, unwind.

It’s good for you, I promise. The laundry can wait another five minutes.

 

photos via weheartit

Posted on November 7, 2011 by Nish

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Posted in Parenting

A day of days.

Yesterday was one of those days where I wanted to talk about how amazing it was… but I refrained for fear of jinxing it. And to be honest, the day wasn’t anything extraordinary. It was a regular day, but for the first time in a long time, I felt restful. Even in the midst of getting things done, it felt like life decided to slow down.

It was one of those days that reminded me of how much I love being a mother. How I don’t know life apart from my son and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The joy that he brings me is unspeakable.

It’s in the funny moments of climbing the playground while playing chase. Or him sitting next to me so we can share graham crackers. Or when he sits on a park bench and says “Hi!” to everyone that passes by, and has a full conversation in toddler babble. I don’t think a person walked by who didn’t smile and laugh and soak in his joy. 

I made banana bread during his nap… and it wasn’t even stress-baking! I just wanted something warm in the oven and I wanted my house to smell like home.

I sat on the couch with Madeline L’Engle’s Walking on Water and let her words wash over me a little more.

I watched the second half of the Bronco game to see Tim Tebow play like we all prayed he could (they lost, but MAN what a game!).

Erik came home early and I sat on the couch with my husband, drank my favorite autumn spiced tea while watching a cute indie romance flick.

We had spaghetti for dinner and Rowan went down to bed without a hitch as usual. I shared a bottle of wine with my man.

I’m learning that I need gentle days. I need time that’s slow. I need days where the laundry can wait and dinner can be something easy. I need moments to read and write.

I need to just be. 

Madeline L’Engle, in her infinite wisdom and gentle words, writes this:

I’ve long since stopped feeling guilty about taking being time; it’s something we all need for our spiritual health, and often we don’t take enough of it.

So, here’s to being time. Here’s to slow moments and ordinary days that feel extraordinary. Here’s to loving motherhood with every fiber of our hearts. Here’s to joy. Here’s to remembering what Sabbath should feel like.

May our days be gentle with us this week.

 

Posted on October 10, 2011 by Nish

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Posted in 31 Days, Everyday Life, Parenting

On being a gentle mother.

From the time we brought him home from the hospital – all fresh and pink, warmed in blankets and cute hats with ears – my Rowan has been a fiercely independent and adventurous soul.

My hippie mama heart shattered when he refused to be worn in the beautiful slings I was gifted. It broke further when I wasn’t able to nurse. I nearly split in two when he slept more soundly in his crib than next to my bed. I knew from those early days of putting him in his small infant chair that he wanted to see the world on his own. He wanted to do things on his own terms. It’s a spirit that I admire so much – there is so much of his father in him.

But the independence and ferocity of his personality inevitably led to rough patches of behavior. He pushes my buttons and likes to cross boundaries. He’s rough and tumble, not much phases him, even the sound of my stern voice instructing him to make a better choice.

When we started the discipline route, I was certain that his stubborn personality was going to require a firm, steady hand of control. I was certain that gentleness would not work on my son. I knew him best, after all. I was certain that I had him figured out.

Nothing was working. He thought my method of discipline was funny, and his responses were making me even more frustrated. More misbehavior, more ignoring and bigger tantrums than ever. Something had to give.

That’s when I finally dropped to my knees one day when he blatantly disobeyed. I did it right next to him. Just sat down. I looked at him in the eye & gently asked him to listen to mommy. I said no, and I meant it. He immediately stopped what he was doing (climbing the bookshelf), stuck his lip out & gave a little whimper. He threw his arms around me and laid his head on my shoulder as if to say “I’m sorry.”

He ran to get his firetruck. He hasn’t climbed the bookshelf since.

I’m learning as I go, that my gentleness and willingness to draw near to my child when he is at his worst consistently draws out the best response. I realize that not every kid responds this way, but it does my gentle heart so much good to know that despite his ferocity, intelligence and independence, he’s got a piece of his mama in him, too.

He responds to loving touch. He responds to a drawing-near. We are so alike.

I don’t know if this style will last long, or if it’s just a phase. But I’m going to step into it and embrace it for as long as I can. Hopefully, for years and years to come.

 

Posted on October 4, 2011 by Nish

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Posted in 31 Days, Parenting

A Friday rundown.

It’s been sunny and warm in southern Oregon. I’ve been soaking up the last of summer’s rays, trying not to rush into fall. It’ll come soon enough, with everything turned red and gold and smelling of pumpkin and burning leaves. But for now, I still sweat a little when reading out on the back porch. I still wear my sandals and shorts and my skin still feels sun-drenched.

……………..

Tomorrow, I’ll fly to southern California, where I’ll be until Monday. I’m speaking on Sunday, about “Testing Boundaries: Writing with authenticity and contending with the backlash.” That’s my session title. I’m excited to have good conversation with women about how we can address important issues without pissing people off. I plan on sharing the content in my session in a series of posts here, because I think it’s a needed discussion.

……………..

I’ve been considering doing a 31 Days series with these lovelies. The only problem is that I’d have to blog every day, for 31 days in October. Foreseeable problems include: Packing up a house, moving to another state, moving into the new house, traveling to Pennsylvania, managing Deeper Story, and other general life events. Am I crazy? Or would a 31 Days series spark life back into this space? Or are both things true? I just might go for it… but it would probably be 31 Days of Just Random Blogging Because I’m In Survival Mode and Don’t Have Time for Anything Else. Or something. We’ll see.

……………..

I put in an order with Amazon for my first two Madeline l’Engle books, Walking on Water and A Circle of Quiet. I feel like some sort of creative and writing failure for having never read her books, outside of the Wrinkle in Time series. Based on the enthusiastic reviews and excitement of my friends, I’ll probably have much to say about the books. I’ll write my thoughts here.

………………

If you haven’t popped over in a while, there has been some EPIC storytelling over at A Deeper Story lately. I always knew and believed that I gathered an impeccable group of writers there, but lately, they’ve been writing with a passion and fervor that I haven’t seen until now. Go & read a while. Also, keep an eye out… some new and exciting things happening there, soon.

………………

 

This little guy… my handsome boy with the perfect big brown eyes, is turning two in less than two months. I still can’t believe it. Why do they grow up so quickly? Why are we not given more time with their kissable cheeks and sticky hands and baby giggles? I’m trying to just soak him in lately. In all his wild, reckless ways.

 

What’s your rundown for the week?

 

Posted on September 23, 2011 by Nish

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Posted in Blog Sugar, Blogging, Everyday Life, Home, Parenting

Tall and strong.

We drive long out to the coast and wind along rivers and steep embankments and Rowan eats his snacks in the backseat. Erik says something about how fun it will be when the little guy has someone to play with someday and my mind flashes all white with fear and my skin follows. That burgeoning belly of mine has seen its battles and pregnancy is not kind to my body. I know I’ll have to stare that fear in the eyes someday in the future, but I can’t wrap my mind around another baby with bottles and swaddles and sleepless nights.

We walk out onto the chilly Oregon coast and put our feet in the sand and the waves roar and crash boldly into boulders and I wonder how Rowan likes it. I take off his shoes and let his toes crunch the sand and the noise startles him. Tiny hands reach for the column of my jeans.

I crouch down and point to the water and then pick up the sand and let it fall through my fingers. I tell Rowan that God knows the number of grains on this beach & the number of hairs on his head & how his fingernails grow all crooked like his mama’s. He takes a few steps away from me, bravery seeping in with every sandy footprint, turns to smile at the camera and I can’t believe how big he’s grown.

Didn’t I just birth you, son? In that quiet, dark hospital room? Your waxy head rested underneath my chin and I remember I couldn’t believe how tiny your hands were. Now here you are, running on the sand and up and down the ramp to the parking lot and I can’t seem to keep up with your speed and your energy wears me down by noon. You used to rest so well. We don’t get much rest anymore, but I can’t complain.

On the way home, we take a detour through the old Redwood Forest and we walk along the bristled path and Rowan charges up ahead.

He’s swallowed up whole by the monstrous trunks and even the ferns wisp over the little blonde head as he tumbles on. It’s still in the forest and Erik speaks softly about reverence and the desire to be quiet as we walk… then Rowan lets out a squeal and points to a plant and tells it his story. There’s no containing his excitement and I let it roll.

He darts behind trees and his big eyes take in the wonder of the forest and I drink him in, trying not to think about how much time as gone by. I try hard to focus in on his tiny frame against the big trees and be reminded of his still-smallness.

 

Erik leans against a fallen trunk and I watch him care for the boy and I’m so grateful I’m not in this alone. I’ve been joined to this man whose strength runs deep where mine is shallow. As we walk further down the soaked-in trail, tears brim up with thanks and a deep love that only a wife knows and somehow, I manage to harbor them back into the whites of my eyes. I pray quietly – for the thankfulness to pump strong should my heart ever grow cold. 

Rowan powers on and looks up in wonder at the green canopy above while I look on with my own mother-wonder. That white fear from our earlier drive is replaced with astonishment at how in the world I could ever love another child as much as this? Could there ever be room in my heart for another? 

I smile and look down at the dirt on my feet as we loop around and start the climb back to the car. I decide that those questions are for another day. The only thing I can ask is this: how to slow down life? How does it happen so fast and how has twenty months gone by? 

I look at the small boy, so independent but not fully… and I grieve that I struggle with motherhood. I wish I had the answers every day and I wish I didn’t stumble around and grasp for strength. His face is so innocent, full of that wonder and he deserves the best of me and I ache with knowing that too many days have passed where I didn’t give it to him. I look up into the green canopy and whisper quiet prayers of help and need because I’m small, too. I’m not tall and strong enough to grow up this boy to be the man he’ll need to be.

But maybe that’s the real journey… the every day recognition of my own smallness. Understanding that I’ll never have all of the answers and that I was never expected to.

If I was strong enough on my own, why the prayers that rise up the tree trunks? What need would I have for the One who whispers His glory and grace into forests?

Into that strong lover’s embrace?

Into these tired mama bones?

Into sparkling baby eyes? 

Today, I’ll find my rest in the never-ending journey and keep my eyes wide open for the joys only a mother can know.

I’ll find rest in the adventure that reminds me that I’m not strong enough or tall enough to do it right.

But He is.

Posted on July 7, 2011 by Nish

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Posted in Adventure, Marriage, Parenting, Photography

Fighting apathy.

I bring the leather-bound book to my lap while I’m sitting on the couch in the early morning with my coffee. It’s not long before every good intention seeps into the cushions and I shift the weight of the book onto the table next to my propped-up feet. I grab my Kindle instead and choose to read Tina Fey. I prefer her sense of humor over the Apostle Paul.

Can I get real with you for a minute?

It’s been a long time since I’ve picked up my Bible and actually read it. And you know what? I’m not even sure why. My usual excuse is time, or the lack thereof. But honestly, I don’t really have that excuse anymore. Life here is slow in the summers. I could grab the gilded pages and thumb through the stories quickly while the small boy runs happily through the sprinklers in the yard. I could read it during nap time. I could read it a LOT during the day, actually.

But, I don’t. And it hasn’t really bothered me until now… some odd weeks later.

It was only yesterday morning when Rowan abandoned his trucks to jump on the couch and sit next to me. I was holding the Kindle, reading, and he started to reach over and push the buttons. I closed the case and looked into his tiny brown eyes and big, toothy smile.

I was immediately struck with fear.

You see, Rowan is growing up in a house that loves Jesus. He goes to church, plays in the kids’ ministry, and he’ll grow, learn, and grow some more. And one day, when he starts learning and remembering all the stories in the Bible, I’m afraid that one day, he’s going to ask me this question:

“Hey mom, what’s your favorite story in the whole Bible?”

And I will sit frozen for a moment, unsure of what to say because I’m so unfamiliar with the stories in those same gilded pages I traded in for “Bossypants.” I can’t choose a favorite and tell him honestly because I simply don’t know them. Not like I should.

And how in the world am I supposed to teach this kid about God when I’m so apathetic towards learning about Him myself?

Apathetic. I never want to be apathetic.

So, I’m saying it out loud, for the world to see: I’m working on fighting my apathy. I’m trying to be better.

photo

Posted on June 16, 2011 by Nish

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Posted in Faith, Parenting

A confirmation.

You know… just in case there was ever a question about whether or not I have the cutest child in the universe.

 

Posted on March 18, 2011 by Nish

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Posted in Parenting, Photography

On mothering and other mothers.

I love my days. They are full of breathing, heart-bursting, head-throbbing, erratic, organized minutes and while I love every one of them, there are moments where I toil. Where I struggle. Where I seemingly peel myself up off the cheerio-crusted hardwood floors only to get pummeled again.

I am me. I’m a woman. I’m a believer. I’m a wife. I’m a mother. I’m other things too, but those are the overpowering descriptors most days. Especially the mother.

Being a mother is beautiful and inspiring and there’s nothing like it. I should stop trying to describe it, because there’s nothing to compare it to. But, what I’m realizing more and more, especially as my son grows a little bit taller and a little bit more defiant every day, is that being a mother requires a tremendous amount of bravery and humility. You need to quickly come to grips with the fact that you simply don’t have all the answers. But, we trudge forward anyway… learning that this process is only shaping us more like Christ as we go. Because as I’m chasing my screaming toddler after he wiggles his way out of my grasp sans diaper, I’m really just trying to chase after Jesus. I want to honor Him in how I parent my son. Really, I do. I need encouragement. I need prayer. I need support. We all do.

However, as my experience widens and as my community gets broader, I’m starting to uncover a real problem with being a mother:  Other Mothers.

My dad once told me, “Everyone has an opinion, and everyone is always right.” This statement is absolutely, positively 100% true when it comes to parenting. And it wrecks me, because I have a pretty significant guilt problem. I am my own worst critic and I am quick to catch my own faults long before they’re noticed by anyone else. But the guilt creeps in through other cracks in the glass, too. When a God-fearing, Jesus-following mother gives you the virtual “tsk tsk” for listening to some Justin Timberlake while your kid is in the room, I cringe and I recoil, and I question whether or not I’m a good mother. The path of guilt leads quickly to self-hatred and I find myself there often. I lose sight of my self-worth, my own strength and the parenting philosophy that has been impressed upon my heart.

I am not a protectionist, culture-fearing mother. I’m just not. My style of Jesus-loving parenting looks different from many. Here’s the part that I forget when another woman “speaks out against” certain types of parenting: IT’S OKAY that we don’t parent the same way.

It’s okay that our families aren’t the same. It’s okay that we aren’t the same woman.

I listen to Kanye West & Eminem. You prefer TobyMac.
I watch the edgy shows on HBO. You don’t.
I’ll probably send my kids to public school. You home-educate your children.
My kid loves Kraft Mac & Cheese.   You only buy the organic stuff.
I formula-fed my child. You breastfed exclusively.
I wear jeans & a hoodie to church. You get all dressed up.
I enjoy a good margarita. You don’t drink.

I love my kid. I would die for my kid. I want him to know and love Jesus.
You love your kid. You would die for your kid. You want him to know and love Jesus.

Why can’t we just leave it at that? Why the infighting? Why the judgement?

Why not support? Why not encouragement? Why not prayer?

And if you’re genuinely concerned about the soul of my child due to his exposure to a Justin Timberlake video, I would rather you address me directly, ask me about my motivations and seek out a genuine answer from me… instead of saying something to someone else or being passive aggressive about it. Moms, I’m tired. I’m tired of looking at each other with such critical eyes.

If I tell you I love Jesus and I want to raise my kid to know Him, will you take my word for it? Even if my methods look different than yours? Because I promise that I’ll take your word for it. All I’m asking is the same in return.

We’re on a similar journey – you and me. This parenting gig is hard. It’s rough and tumble and messy. It’s transformative and life-changing and it’s the most rewarding thing we’ve ever done.

Can we start holding hands through this thing, instead of throwing stones?

photo

Posted on February 17, 2011 by Nish

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Posted in Blog, Parenting

On being weak & faint of heart.

I’m holding him and he’s bathed and fed and sleeping on my shoulder. My legs and hips sway from side to side as I hum the lullaby again and again into the soft wisps of blonde hair. I don’t want to put him into his crib. Not yet.

We had quite a day and there were moments where all I could do is close my eyes and breathe heavy, whispering prayers of help and need.

Motherhood, in all its tenderness and beauty, is not for the weak or faint of heart.

When your husband leaves town for work, and you come down with a violent stomach bug, and your child is teething and screaming, and the dogs are barking, and you have to run to the grocery store because you need more formula, and OH MY GOSH can we PLEASE get this diaper rash under control?

That’s the moment.

The one where I want to crawl into the darkest corner of my most comfortable couch and disappear, sleeping for hours on end and ignoring the rest of the world. Ignore the cries. Ignore the barking. And certainly, we have the freedom to make that choice, but is it ever really a choice? When the tears of pain and sadness roll down the cheeks of my little boy, the only choice I have is to swoop him up into my arms and wrap him tight in comfort and soothing hums of song.

So many times throughout the day, I found myself saying “I can’t do this” and in almost the same breath, saying “Jesus, help me.” Because it’s true. I can’t do it. Not without Him. And in the minutes following, I felt stronger and able to press through the cries and the horrible diaper changes and my next fit of vomiting.

I am weak. I am faint of heart. My faith is lacking and so is my body & soul. And I can’t be a mother alone. I need that grace, the one He pours out to make all things new. The grace that He promises, the grace we were gifted when He entered the world and the Star lit up and He changed everything.

When tiny hands cling to my pant legs and beg to be lifted for what feels like the hundredth time, I find myself stretching and clinging to His robes, praying to be washed clean of my own selfishness.

As a mother, as a parent, we are called into the muck and mire. We find ourselves in the trenches of hard moments, unable to take it all on ourselves.

Motherhood is for the strong.

Motherhood is for the courageous.

Motherhood is for the loving.

Motherhood is for the faithful.

Motherhood is for the humble.

Motherhood is for you, the one whispering in the dark, “I can’t do this.” And motherhood is for me, the one with the weak faith and selfish heart.

Motherhood is for us, because we are all of those things… strong, courageous, faithful and humble. We are, and can continue to be those things. Not on our own accord, no. But we are those things because He lives in us. He lives through us. And He is all of those things and more. And we can be good mothers. We can do anything through Him who gives us the strength to make it to the end of the hard days.

I made it through. Standing at the side of his crib, humming into his damp hair and swaying from side to side. We made it through because the One who gives strength is faithful.

And I am grateful.

Posted on December 7, 2010 by Nish

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Posted in Blog, Parenting