being a mom

 

There are times that as a mom I believe I’ve got this. More often than not, I feel like I am the worst mom ever. Especially as a homeschooling mom, more often than not I feel like a failure. You’re 3-year-old is reading chapter books, and my 9-year-old is still struggling with his letters. Obviously, I’m the worst mom ever. The internet says so. Let’s not take into consideration that my 9-year-old is hard of hearing and dyslexic and we work hard every day. Obviously, I’m ruining his life.

And those are the thoughts I have on a daily basis minus the last sentence. I feel like I am failing my boys every day of the week. And it doesn’t even matter that my hard of hearing, dyslexic on his own last week knew a lower case b over a d, p, or q. (And if you know anything about dyslexia, you know what a mile stone this was!) I never feel good enough, that I’m doing enough, that they know enough. I always fall short in my head. It doesn’t matter that my 7-year-old can properly pronounce dinosaur names that my grandma didn’t even knew existed until he told her.  I feel like I am failing them on a regular basis, all day every day.

And maybe that feeling of failure is because I want so much for them (because I want SO MUCH FOR THEM!). Maybe it’s because every time someone asks me (or the boys) what grade they are in or who their teacher is or where they go to school, I cringe waiting for the negative comment. For the record, no one has ever said one bad thing to me about homeschooling. Most of them are super supportive and don’t even understand how it works. I know its me. I know that its me expecting them to think it’s the dumbest, worst thing they’ve ever heard and they are all so supportive. I’ve had people I thought were going to be negative tell me they wished they would have homeschooled.

And in case all that wasn’t enough, about a month ago I went from a stay at home mom to a working mom. I love my job. I am bartending at a beach bar where my kids are more than welcome. My boys know everyone there by name and their favorite thing is that they get to go swimming in the pond every day this summer. The hours that I work are super family friendly and where I work prides itself on being a family center so we don’t have to worry about drunk idiots stumbling around or fights breaking out. These are our people who buy my boys ice cream while I’m behind the bar. I would not have this job if it caused damage to my marriage or my children. I love my afternoon old men.

And then we come to tonight. I have been working this job for almost 5 weeks and we all love it (me, the boys, and my husband.). I noticed yesterday Connor, my youngest, had a stuffy nose. He didn’t have a fever. He played like he was a rock star. I gave him medicine for his nose.

And then we did it all over again tonight, only tonight I worked until 9 instead of 5. And then we got home and my baby was coughing and choking and I fell apart. A year and a half ago, Connor and I spent 4 hours at the ER because he was struggling to breathe. He went home with a nebulizer and medication. We are still using both today. We used them both tonight.

And as my baby is sitting snuggled up to me with a breathing mask on and medicines pumping into his lungs because every breath is a struggle, I again thing of what a bad mom I must be. A good mom would have stayed home with him and kept him home today. It doesn’t matter that he was fine earlier and had an amazing time playing in the water today.

And then I think about my mom. She had asthma so bad as practically a baby that she has to get shots for it. My mom has a dent in her arm from all the shots she had to get to keep her breathing. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been told that what my mom had skips a generation so my brothers and I need to watch for it. And tonight as my baby struggled and had tears rolling down his face as we cuddled while he had his breathing treatment, I again felt like a terrible mother.

Should I have been watching closer for this? Is this my fault (genetically)? Was it better when I stayed home with you (even though you go with me every day to work)?

I have so much doubt. And then I think and remember all God is doing with us. I’ve talked before about His plan and how I could never understand it. And today is a prime example, because I feel like a failure and I know this is His plan. I need to trust more. TRUST MORE!

There are so many more things going on in our lives right now than I have even wrote about tonight. And it’s so funny to me that me and my husband are on the same God page. This is a path. It hurts. It’s hard. It’s right. Happy Father’s Day this Sunday. My Father in Heaven has a plan and there is a reason we are right here, right now. I’m all in on faith, God. We are all, all in on faith, God.

Please pray for me and my family. If you have something, anything, you want my family to be praying for please leave a comment and know we will pray for you.

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My Faith Is Just My Faith

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been thinking about my faith as it is seen through the eyes of others. It’s been an interesting experience. To me, my faith is just my faith. It’s something that has always been a part of me. I don’t remember a time without it. There wasn’t one morning where I woke up and suddenly realized that Jesus was the Christ.

Now that’s not to say that there aren’t defining times of faith in my life. There are definitely moments that I look back on and know that God was working in my life. And while there are no times in my life where I questioned the existence of God, there are certainly times where I was far from Him.

I’m at an interesting period in my faith right now. Suddenly, I am listening more carefully and doing things I feel God is calling me to do when they make no sense to me. Or when I’m not even sure that I want to do them. Or when the thought of doing it has me literally on the verge of throwing up.

And then I pray that I’m making the right decision. I pray that the words that I’m using are the right ones, the ones that will make the most impact, the ones He wants me to use. Before yesterday’s post, Hope For the Holidays, I was sick and shaking. What if it didn’t work? What if there’s all these needs and no one to help? What if it’s just an epic failure, and then everyone knows that I’m an epic failure?

And then I prayed again. Hope For the Holidays is probably the most prayed over blog post I’ve ever written. And after I prayed, I felt at peace. I was still shaking. I was still nervous. Those are human reactions. But I knew that if it was right, it was going to work. I actually had prayed for God to shut my blog down and not let it work if I wasn’t supposed to write those words.

In the last couple of weeks, people have been talking to me about my faith. I’ve been told I was brave. I’ve been told that my faith is awe-inspiring. I’ve been told I’m doing God’s work.

It’s amazing for people to look at me and my words and see my faith like that. To me, it’s just my faith. It’s just who I am. Most of the time, I feel like a scared little girl just trying to do what her Father wants her to do.

You look at me and say that I am brave? I am so scared every time I write. But maybe being brave is writing when you are scared.

You look at me and say that my faith is inspiring? It’s just who I am. It doesn’t feel inspiring.

You look at me and say that I’m doing God’s work? WOW. That one just blows me over. I hope you’re right.

Thank you for giving me a different perspective on my faith.