Skip to main content

On Soup, Vices, Babies, and the End of the Day

I’m sitting eating soup and hearing phantom cries. At least, every time I jump up the baby monitor confirms that the crying is only in my head. 

Today, with the rapt attention of my four-year old, I wrote a to-do list on our large kitchen chalkboard. I’m not certain if that was a good idea as the last to-do—a very large pile of laundry still looms a pants and onesies mountain or a shirts and socks field, pick your favorite metaphor of choice. But whatever your choice, it’s there.  Strewn along my bedroom floor. Waiting. (Yes, the bed would be a better place, but the baby needed nursing.) 

The problem with a to-do list is that my biggest to-do, is to be with my three little ones. And really, that is not even a to-do, that is my life, my calling. The other problem with a to-do list is that tasks sometimes seem to stand in the way of just being, a woman, a mother, striving by the grace of God to grow in virtue, to model said virtue so that the little souls I am given to steward can go and do likewise. It’s a small audience, but to this small audience, I often fall on my face.  

I’m reading a book called Glittering Vices. I’ve found the chapters on envy and vainglory interesting. Mostly, I’ve been relieved, because they aren’t really my vices. I’m genuinely happy when good things happen to my friends. In fact, I love it when good comes to them. And ultimately, I know that my value comes from being God’s creation, and He is not stingy. (Yes, some envy and vainglory rear their heads in moments of my life, but by God’s grace hopefully those someday will all be gone along with those vices that are more habitual in my life.) But while I feel relieved in these chapters, I know that “sloth” is coming and I anticipate there will be a lot of me there. In fact, it is chapter three. And so, I made a to-do list. 

My soup is finished, and only one phantom cry turned out to be real, but then faded as the monitor revealed a sleeping Emmi. 

Here is the thing with a to-do list. I need to do tasks to steward this home I was given, and yet I need to do those tasks with contentment and joy. “Anger” or “Wrath” is also coming in that book—and how easy it is to lose my patience when the diapers are strewn in a diaper mountain across the living room floor. Today, I’ve had multiple surfaces covered in items that did not belong on said surface, and I need to joyfully climb each diaper mountain and cross each laundry valley. 

Sure, sometimes I can laugh like when earlier today my two-year old went slightly catatonic when I removed him from the toilet on which he had been sitting for ten minutes “trying” to go potty. His potty privileges were revoked after he unrolled half a roll of toilet paper. And as I carried him kicking and screaming from the bathroom, I had to smile at the immensity of the situation in Gabriel calculus and the deep emotion involved. Ultimately though, I too probably have deep emotions over similarly important situations, and in those situations I must learn to be like God. 

These to-do’s are mundane, and yet it is in how I do these mundane to-do’s, and when I choose to ignore them, that I, by God’s grace, can someday, and sometimes today, look at my children and say as Paul says to us in the Bible. “Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ.” 

Lord let me follow you in the everyday. 

In the meantime, I must also model what it looks like to grow and fail and then try again. 






Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Sleepy Prayers

A small mewling breaks into my night’s sleep. Thankfully, I sleep lighter than was my wont growing up. If I roll over to steal a few more winks, the mewling turns into small cries and groggily I attempt to open my sleep soaked eyes. Food. Felicity needs food. The thoughts fall through my brain. Her little arms flail helplessly in her monkey bassinet and her tiny feet kick at her blanket. If her cries could be translated I’m sure they would consist in “Mommy, please pick me up. I’m hungry.” Or the imperative, “Feed me now!” Pulling myself up, I bend down and pick her up.   The only light turned on is the light above the stove. It casts a faint glow into our bedroom. Holding her I take her to the front room and sit in the glider and rock. I’m sleepy, but I try to hold the moment— “Don’t blink it goes so fast,” people say. I’m trying not to blink, but my eyes are so sleepy. “Let’s pray,” I tell her. Her lips smack and her eyes open and close. She doesn’t know what pra...

Slaying Giants

Days like this begin when the night before I choose not to sleep, because I must read a few more lines from some news site or scroll one last time through the glowing screen of my iPhone instead of making good on my resolve to read quality literature and journal prior to bed. They continue when I wake up earlier than usual to teach, but finish teaching to realize that my children also went to bed later then they should. So now, everyone’s patience operates like feet hitting a wet spot on a wood floor. Bam. You loose traction. And first one then another is upset and done. That tantrum sparked another melt-down from someone else, and as I try to not join the melt-downs, and instead attempt to be the adult I hazard some words of explanation.  “Your choices impact us all.” I tell one of them.  My children’s choice do change the tenor of the room for good or for ill, but so do my choices. On days of this sort, where nothing is really wrong, other than a strong case of the grumpies...

Girl on the Go

Who knew about strength training for little limbs? Prior to birthing my little girl, I did not know about baby exercises. But they exist! There is the bicycle for infant legs, which, you guessed it—Momma makes baby’s legs pedal in a bicycle motion. Then there is the YMCA. Yep. Sing the YMCA and make baby’s arms dance. All of these exercises were handily learned on the app for baby development. How else would millennials learn about baby growth if there weren’t an app? But the real baby workout is Tummy Time. Yes—Tummy Time—the time when baby is placed on tummy to begin the difficult task of holding up her neck.   Followed by the even more difficult task of head turning. The ultimate goal: Crawling. The half-way point to the ultimate goal: Flipping Over. Anxious to give Felicity every advantage, I dutifully spread a blanket for tummy time. At first her head bobbled and dipped to grab a mouthful of blanket. Then came the quizzical eyes when she managed to turn towards m...