TED Talks and parental guilt...

Time flies…

13 months ago, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy…and I unknowingly got on this strange, crazy, incredible roller coaster of parenthood.

I mean, sure, people tell you it’s insanity…but you never realize it until it’s your turn. And once you’ve started it, there’s absolutely no looking back.

Not that I’d want to.

It’s terrifying-scary-amazing-wonderful-hilarious-trying-miraculous-and...all of the above.

And it teaches you just how much you truly have to rely on God for every breath.

I’ve also realized that nothing induces more guilt on you, than parenthood. I mean, seriously—every complaint that someone has about something you have, or every brag that you hear about something you don’t or couldn’t do—every little thing causes you to step back and say to yourself, “Oh, man…I don’t do it like that. Is there something wrong? Am I doing it wrong? AM I GOING TO TRAUMATIZE HIM FOR LIFE?!?!?!?”

I heard on a TED Talk that when you yell and scream at a baby/toddler, that it affects the part of the brain that controls impulses, that later on, leads them to turn into serial killers. And then I read that if you ignore your child (i.e., time-out), that it has the same effect on their brain as if you had physically abused them. So now, I’m like, freaking out about yelling at David in front of the baby—does it bother JD? I have to stop yelling—I mean, I’m a total yeller who was raised by yellers. It’s all we know; David is NOT generally a yeller, but I’ve kind of turned him into one…AM I TURNING MY SON INTO A SERIAL KILLER?!?!?!?!?!

I know, it sounds preposterous. But these are the paranoid ramblings of MEEEEE! And these are the things I worry about in the middle of the night…

And of course, there’s no yelling “at” JD at this point. There is, however, immediate separation if he does something like grab my glasses, while he’s sitting on my lap (with a firm “NO!”). There is also a firm “NO!” when he’s into something he’s not supposed to be, and the occasional tap on the hand (for the dangerous stuff), along with a quick pick-him-up-and-move-him. Distraction is the best form of correction, as discipline in any form is kind of pointless.

I’m a stress-yeller, and I have to stop it…I have to remove many words from my vocabulary, as he’s begun to repeat things (i.e., “Ball!” “Duck!”).  If he can say those things, I’m guessing he will learn to repeat several choice words that sound similar…and I need Jesus!!! So, language and tone are a definite work in progress, and trying to tell certain people in our lives to begin that process in THEIR lives is not going well…Ugh.

So, JD is standing now…he’s working on molars…he’s repeating words, and he fully understands his first complete sentence: “What’s this?”  Yep—he gets it! He even used it, in context, in front of the Parents As Teachers lady, who was totally impressed. Yep—he’s a genius, but not a freak-show-kind-of-genius. He’s a let’s-encourage-this-but-stay-normal kind of genius. He doesn’t have any food allergies that we know of (praise GOD!) and he eats anything he can get his hands on. We took our time introducing “regular” foods, and are just now starting to give him actual meals instead of pureed food. He’s independent; he’s able to spot something, get it, focus on it and play with it, and get into whatever he wants. I love how he surveys a room, picks someone or something, stares them down, and eventually, rewards them with a smile. He’s quite popular wherever he goes, and I find myself becoming increasingly protective.  

Can I just keep him in a bubble? This world is overwhelming…endless stories of abuse, kidnapping, drugs—I barely want to step outside, as an adult. I understand my parents’ protectiveness so much more; thank God I was raised in a world that didn’t have the Internet! We’re ALREADY talking about computer privacy issues, and he’s not even walking yet!!!! JD is fascinated with our phones and tablets, even though we don’t let him play with them; they make toys that hold your phone in them, and interact with apps!! ALREADY!!

There are little boys in my neighborhood that play football in the backyard.

That’s what I want…

Play in the backyard; ignore the TV. Make friends in person, not on Facebook. Play baseball, football, soccer…play with the dog or go fishing with Auntie.

The world has presented a platter of fears that my brain just wants to feast on…drugs, violence, crime…How do I prevent any of it from touching my son? He’s the joy of my heart; I can’t even look at his picture without smiling. I want to preserve his innocence forever…but reality is bigger than me.

But it’s not bigger than God.

Raising a child, I’m learning, takes more trust in God than I ever thought…I have to believe that the One Who gave him to us, will take care of him…that He will teach us how to raise him in a Godly way, in a truthful, holy way…I have to trust that our motives and our directions are anchored firmly in His Word and in His plan. Faith outweighs fear, and I believe that…I believe that He holds us, regardless of where we are in life: brand-new and shiny, or old codgers waving canes…

The roller-coaster of parenthood has one consistent track throughout the twists and turns: Jesus. He doesn’t change or fade; He doesn’t leave us hanging. Both Rescuer and Challenger, He sends us out to walk on the ocean…to live in a restless, turbulent world…and He asks us to simply believe He will save us.

My son belongs to Him…my husband belongs to Him…And, because I believe Him, I belong to Him.

The world tells me that I’m messing everything up…it constantly undermines my decisions or tells me I’m not good enough. Jesus takes my pennies of faith, and He moves mountains with them. He takes my mustard seeds, and He uses them to somehow implant faith and hope into my son. He takes my prayers…my tiny, quick, conversations with Him…and He invests it into my marriage, my home, and my family.

Thirteen months ago, out of the very center of my being, came the fruition of years of prayer, tears, and love…He gives us what we need to raise this child for Him. The world can have their research, their lectures, and their materials. I have the Word of God, and it tells me that He’s got this.

That’s all I need to know…

Day 1: Accepting the Challenge

The 30 Day Challenge…

Nah, it’s not a diet (like I’d go public about if it was! Sure, let me just post that, and then you can all watch me FAIL MISERABLY!!).   It’s a kinda-cheesy little blog challenge that a friend of mine posted. I’ve discovered that I have all of these ideas in my head, and I keep forgetting to just sit down and write it out. My hope is that a little challenge like this will help me get my head back in the game. After all—isn’t writing what I REALLY want to do? (Yeah…it is….along with speaking/singing/teaching/painting…and I wanna be an astronaut and a farmer and a President and a…….Oh, wait, you mean I AM a grown-up?!?!? Bummer).

So, this little challenge will hopefully get me in the right mindset of the bigger blog challenges that come with promoting increased readership. That’s what I’d love to see happen—more readers, and maybe a mini-career out of this writing stuff that I’ve loved for so long. It’s a small start, but here we go….here’s to sticking to it!

Day 1:  Your current relationship; if single, discuss how single life is

Seriously? That’s the first question?!? Sigh. Not very original…but I did say it was cheesy!

I’m married. I’m married to a man whose name means “Beloved,” and it’s engraved on his wedding band. He is my beloved, and I am his, and we are a combination of happy circumstances that were ordained by God. I’m married to a man who chases God, who constantly reads, researches, studies, and seeks to understand the very heart of the Lord. I’m married to a man who has pushed me to my ultimate limits, who has broken my heart into a thousand pieces, who has held me together and kept me off of ledges, and who has the strongest shoulders I have ever seen…I am married to a man who likes me a little bit crazy, but who can handle me when I’m off of the deep end. I am married to a man who has an insane love of furniture and home décor…who has a palette that rivals Gordon Ramsay, and who missed his calling to be an Executive Chef of Southern Home Cooking.

I am married to a man who has shown me what I already knew: He is an incredible father. There’s nothing more attractive than a man who a.) loves God and b.) loves his child. David and his mini-me are my favorite guys on this planet . The Journey to JD (our son) was a long, arduous, insane path, and David stayed on it with me. I don’t understand his thought processes any more than he understands mine, but I do know this: He has stayed.  He has stayed, and he will stay (God-willing), and he will raise our son to be a faithful, kind, loving man, just like he is.

I am married to a man who is far from perfect. I find socks in the recliner, T-shirts on the floor, and toothpaste in the sink; he is known for volcano-like eruptions at stoplights.  He forgets to tell me I’m pretty, he expects praise for the mundane (yes, honey, you’re great—you did the dishes. Which I have done, in anonymity, for days. Would you like a parade? You would? Okay..but you’re cleaning up the confetti.), and he drinks the last of the coffee creamer without telling me. He also steals Nutella, which is a cardinal sin.

I am a wife who flies off of the handle. I am emotional, possibly slightly bipolar, and I have struggled with depression for years. I can be a complete know-it-all; I am messy, boorish, obstinate, and disobedient. I fight with what it truly means to be submissive. I am high-maintenance, and my health issues have caused us no end of financial and marital stress. I can be very unstable, predictable in my unpredictability, and I constantly struggle with filtering what comes out of my mouth. I struggle with my faith, with reading the Bible over reading a good book, and I do not use my talents for the things that I’m sure God would like for me to use them on. 

I am a mother, and I’ve been one for 7 years. I am a mother, and I’ve been one for 6 months. I am confused as to various parts of my identity as a woman, as a Christian, as a church member. I feel useless but overused; ignored, but too loud. I am fiercely protective, and if you harm my child or flirt with my husband, I will end you. That’s a promise.

I can be a cutthroat B if you cross me, and I find myself constantly fighting against that tendency. I lose more than I’d like, at least, mentally. I’m incredibly thankful for grace. I am faithful…I am expressive…I am an individual who is not often understood, but David gets me (most of the time). If he were writing this blog, I’m not sure how he’d describe me (Spender? Undisciplined? Spoiled? Drama Queen? Micromanaging psycho?), but I hope he’d remember that I’m still that blonde in high heels that agreed to go on that second date…

Without my husband, I am still me…but I am not a happy me. I am not a fulfilled me. I miss my other half, when he’s not around; I feel exposed and vulnerable. As time goes on, I feel more and more naked when he’s not around, and I don’t like it. He’s become my covering, which is as it should be. We may forget to say certain niceties to each other, but at the end of the day, I think we both find the bed feels warmer with both of us in it. Our little family felt complete before, during, after, before, and during children, and dog, and everything else…but as time goes by, it feels more complete than ever.

When we got married, we looked at the broken homes that we came from, and we made a promise to each other: We would not go down that path. The “D” word is not spoken in our house. We recently had a major disagreement that was loaded with hurt and pain—we’ve been through a lot lately. The question of single parenthood came up, and was immediately shot down—the thought is worse than a horror film. We do not stop. We do not back down. We stay together, through hell, high water, hurt, and happiness. We are welded together in steel, and we ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya’ here? We made a vow before God, and we meant it.

I mean it, every single day.

I love that man. I’d lay down my life for that man. He makes me crazy (and that's MUTUAL!), but he makes me happy. Where he goes, I go; where he stays, I stay. His God is my God, and his people are my people, and that’s all there is to it.

We are a combination of our best and of our worst, and of our everything in-between. I can’t say enough about how much I love being married, or about how many times I’ve wondered if we both have lost our minds. I can’t describe to you, the peace I feel when he takes my hand (even if it’s just to keep me from wandering into traffic). I’ve blogged about marriage before, and maybe in my head, I have a crazy, romantic notion of it that might be different from how it is when I walk in the door after a long day…But if that’s true, then it’s a delusion I’ve held for almost 9 years, and I’ll keep it.

I married a lover of God.

I married a lover of me.

Through fire and fury, we’re bonded together in grace, laughter, pain, and hope…

And we belong to Jesus first,

Each other second,

To our children, third….

And to the dog, of course….