Motherhood From Tomorrow

I escape to my room for about 15 minutes of solace. I had just finished helping my 5^th grader with math, while my 3 year old screamed at my feet for not buying popsicles, and my 1^st grader used his new texting app to text the word “poop” to everyone he knew.

I hop on to Facebook hoping to scroll mindlessly and I encounter it. One of those inspirational motherhood posts; the one designed to encourage tired mamas. It talks about how the mom is frustrated with Legos and shoes on the floor, but one day those will all be gone. I stop reading. Same old, same old: cherish these moments because someday they’ll be gone.

Maybe you are one who gets a boost from those posts…but I doubt it. You’re probably like me. You stop and think about what your childless home will look like and you realize that you will miss your babies. Then, it hits you. The waves of guilt because you’re tired. You’re so tired. You feel like your brain is melting from the menial tasks and you’re are overused and under-appreciated. And, dang it, you’re not appreciating it.

Do you know why you aren’t appreciating it? Because you’re not crazy! Congratulations! You’re not crazy! Even though every child in your home is trying to make you feel crazy, you have successfully avoided it up to this point. You deserve a cookie…oooh, cookies…but I digress.

Jesus said not to not worry about tomorrow, but somehow I think it’s OK for me to worry about what Empty-Nest Jen will think about my current situation. Wait, what? And even worse, someone thinks it’s OK to encourage tired Mamas with guilt from the future! This is NOT OK.

Now, don't get me wrong. I do think that sometimes in life we look back and wish that we had done better. We try to share those lessons so that someone else doesn't make the same mistake we did. I don't think anyone is trying to heap condemnation on an already tired mom. But...and it's a big but, a tired Mama is going to be better able to appreciate the moment after she's had a nap. Maybe, to encourage a mom, dishes and babysitting is a better bet than trying to make her see from a sketchy future.

God sees, tired Mama. God sees that you are doing your best. God sees that you are loving your little people with everything you have, even when you don’t think it’s enough. And God doesn’t want you to worry about your future feelings. See, you don’t have grace for future scenarios that may or may not occur. If you’re anything like me, you’re using every ounce of grace you have to walk through your day. Empty-Nest You will have the grace you need for that moment. Rest assured that the God who stays by your side while you explain to your 3^rd grader that she can pick up even though she has a broken arm, will still be by your side when you’re sitting in silence. You might even be able to hear Him a little better.

Confessions of a Grammar Nazi

It is no secret that I am a Grammar Nazi. In an era of text messages and social media the ability to write well has gone to the wayside. I never succumbed to the “u” instead of “you” or “r” instead of “are.” Also, as a student I had to diagram sentences for years and years and years. I learned to enjoy the structure and design of the English (or American English) language. Prepositional Phrases are fun! I know, I’m playing fast and loose with the word “fun.”

Very early this week someone pointed out that I am not perfect. I shall pause for a moment to let the collective gasps subside. I was having an exceptionally dreadful day and decided to unplug from life for a bit by playing on Facebook. (Let me pause again for a helpful hint: When you are in the middle of a four-hour crying jag, stay off social media. It won’t help your mood.) Anyway, I commented on what I thought was a friend’s post on the ridiculous grammar. Most of my friends understand my sarcasm and graciously put up with me. The problem was that this was not my friend’s post on his page but one in a public forum AND my phone autocorrected one of my word choices. OH. DEAR. LORD. I got called everything from stupid to someone who thinks I’m better than everyone else. For the love, I couldn’t even deal. (Again, don’t de-stress on FB.)

Herein lies the confession…I am, in fact, not perfect. I am a terrible speller. Terrible! I taught myself to spell using the corrections suggested by spell check. I spelled “maybe” like “mabey” for a large chunk of my life and the word “definitely” was my arch nemesis. I have a dictionary app on the home screen of my phone and I reference it multiple times a day. I am sure that there are mistakes in this blog and when one of my friends points them out I will correct them. The edit function on FB posts is my favorite thing. I don’t even care if you can see the history, I care that I can make it right.

The thing is, we all make mistakes. English is a crazy language. It’s got all kinds of rules, synonyms, homonyms (homophones, whatever the heck they are called now), and is ever changing. “Fishes” even became acceptable plural for “fish.” O.o 

It’s not easy but it is important. Take for instance a post that I came across online today. A young man was commenting on his inability to find a job. It didn’t sound like this:

“I am having quite a challenging time locating a job in the area. I have filled out multiple applications and have not yet been successful. Is there anyone who might have a lead on a job or would be willing to share tips with me regarding your success?”

Rather, it sounded more like this:

“what is wrong with this town I cant find a job nowhere noone will call me back this town sux”

Uh, I can probably identify part of the problem…

I once heard someone say that to be successful in life you needed to be able to speak well and write well. It’s the truth! Yeah, (<<that’s the Midwesterner in me), it isn’t always easy, and we do things incorrectly, but it is important to at least try. A friend pointed out yesterday morning that I said, “I’m good,” instead of, “I am well.” Oh my gosh, I do! Sometimes I end a sentence with a preposition or use “them” as singular, but I try to fix those things. Impressions are important, and whether or not I  inherited the Davies’ mutated spelling gene, I’m going to keep trying to be better. We all should.

Handy guide in case you don’t want to read the whole thing:

1.     I am bad at spelling

2.     Dictionaries are awesome

3.     At least try to present yourself well

4.     Stay off social media if you’re having a sad day.

Spa Day Ahead!

We have been dealing with a stomach bug at the Widmer house this week and it’s a doozy. My youngest vomited for 6 days and my youngest son is now on his second day. Add to that a husband who worked two jobs all weekend, an ink pen exploding in the dryer, and a broken prong/lost diamond in my wedding ring, and I kind of want to run away.

In the middle of a conversation with someone about my week, (thank God for electronic forms of communication keeping you sane while stuck in the house), she said, “You need a spa day after all that vomit,” and I thought, “You know what? I think you’re right!” That thought had never occurred to me before but it has stuck with me providing both excitement and uncertainty.

April 9, 2014, I miscarried our sixth child. Honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing in the whole world. I wasn’t very far along and logically I knew that when that happens it’s usually for a reason. Still, I was sad and Matt had to go to Erie, PA the next day. I didn’t like the prospect of being alone so we decided that I would leave the kids with a sitter and go with him. It was at a time in our lives where we couldn’t afford a whole lot but I decided that while he did whatever it was he needed to do, I was going to go get a manicure/pedicure. It was $50 and I put it on a credit card. (I bet Dave Ramsey is rolling in his….recliner in his million-dollar mansion.) Then I took myself to lunch at Panera with a book and regrouped. It was lovely, perfect, and exactly what I needed. When I look back at that time I think of that day first. I remember all the bad and scary stuff but also that I took some time to heal and process and thus it’s much less traumatic than it could have been.

I allowed myself that “splurge” because a miscarriage was a “big deal”. I gave myself permission to feel and regroup and spend a little on myself to carry on. It probably wasn’t so much the money, but the time alone. Then I think about my week and I question. Is this a “big deal”? Does this “qualify” me needing time away? Does it make me a weenie to need it? Don’t laugh at that last one. I have certain rules for myself so I can’t be viewed as a wimp, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.

Does my week…or however long it ends up being…allow me to be justified in spending that money? Thanks to the grace of God and my husband’s work ethic I’d no longer have to put that money on a credit card but is money spent on me for “relaxation” justifiable? Seriously, don’t laugh, I’m thinking these things even though as I write them it sounds ridiculous. My motto to my children has always been, “People before things” and Matt and I have always lived with the viewpoint that people are more important than money. (Everybody calm down, I’m not talking about not paying our bills to spend money frivolously) But we’ve stretched our very tight budget to donate to those in need or buy an extravagant gift for someone just because we knew it was important.

But I’m not altogether sure that I apply this same principle to myself. In fact, I know I don’t.

We are looking at Matt deploying later this year and me being single parenting for 4 months. It’s a daunting thought and I’ve been asking God to begin preparing our family for this, to give us strategies to not just make it through, but to thrive. What if this is one of them? What if I need to allow myself to take time to regroup occasionally? I have been known to scoff at “me time” but I’m starting to think that was wrong.

I think I’m going to plan a spa day when everyone is healthy…not because I NEED to, but because it’ll be good for me. After I’m done holding puke buckets I get to look forward to more than laundry!

What do you think? Do you think that time to regroup is important and what does that look like for you?

The Ick Factor Subtitled GERMAPHOBE LIVES MATTER

My husband and I were fortunate enough to be blessed with a babysitter this past weekend. A very nice family from our church volunteered to come over and babysit all 6 minions so Matt and I could have some alone time. It took a while for us to coordinate but last Saturday was the lucky day.

I’m a creature of habit, so we ended up at a local favorite Mediterranean place for dinner. We ate hot meals without having to stop to cut up anyone’s food, wipe a butt, or clean up a spilled drink. We had a full conversation. It was lovely. After our dinner, we decided to keep our romance going by visiting the Verizon Store. What’s more romantic than being able to talk to a sales rep without having to chase children through an electronics store? After a 90-minute stint there, in a last-ditch effort to be out past 9 o’clock, we stopped at Starbucks. Here’s where this gets interesting.

OK, OK, I’m playing it fast and loose with the word interesting. Here’s where my story begins. After drinks at dinner and numerous water refills, plus an extended stay at a store without a bathroom, Matt and I both had to go. We walked into Starbucks and he ran to the bathroom while I ordered my drink. He returned and we swapped places. I walked toward the alcove in which the bathrooms were housed and stopped short. There were two individual bathrooms and both we marked with the same men/women/handicap signage.

Don’t worry, liberal friends, it’s safe to keep reading. This isn’t the conservative, Christian rant that you’re expecting. I have previously stated that I don’t care where anyone goes to the bathroom…I may alter that statement henceforth. Keep reading.

So, I am standing in front of the Starbucks bathrooms and having an anxiety attack. What was my problem? All I could think was that I didn’t want to go in the same bathroom as the gross boys...yep, that was my thought. Come on, don’t tell me that you’ve never had that thought. See, I know boys. I know how they go to the bathroom. Peeing never actually requires looking at the toilet. It’s based solely on sound. If they hear water, they’re good. Or so they think. In reality, when the sound of pee hitting water stops, it takes them 2.5 seconds to look down and locate the area where they are peeing and another second for the brain to send the signal to the body to move the stream back to the toilet. Do you know how much pee can get into unwanted places in 3.5 seconds? Come on…you all know this is true. I have cleaned up pee of the boys that I know and love in the weirdest places: shower curtain-twice, wall, bath mat…the list could go on forever.

And for real, that’s the least of the grossness than occurs in the bathroom. I won’t go into too many details but I’ll leave it with these facts. One, I cleaned bathrooms at McDonald’s for three years. Ninety-nine-point nine percent of the time the men’s room was the grossest and smelled the worst. Once, I even found an apple pie smashed in weird places….I don’t even want to know. Secondly, the term “dingleberry” did not originate in the description of women’s restroom issues.

So, what did I do? I reached back into the dark recesses of my subconscious memory and picked the bathroom in which I thought that Matt went, that way if I sat in pee I could pretend that it was at least the pee of someone I know and love.

I am now concerned however. We have solved the plight of the gender redefined, undefined…or whatever we call them, but what about the plight of the germaphobe? GERMAPHOBES MATTER TOO!!! If you find me smuggling bleach spray into bathrooms, you’ll know that I couldn’t take it anymore.

I CAN'T EVEN

            As many of you know from my whiny statuses, I’m on a lose-the-last-of-my-baby-weight kick, at least for this week. My hubby is also super amazing at keeping himself in shape and eating right. As part of his effort he has purchased some protein powder which he insists is wonderful mixed with his morning coffee. I, myself, am an iced coffee fanatic. I have it down to an exact science. One medium to bold K-Cup, cooled a bit with 1 T of heavy cream and 1 T of your chosen flavored coffee creamer. Add some ice and it’s better than Starbucks. I usually have one in the morning and then dream about it until the next day when the thought of my iced coffee helps me rouse myself to the screaming children.

            There are days, however, that call for more than one iced coffee. At 100 calories a pop I don’t want to drink all my calories for the day so it has to be absolutely necessary to indulge. Today is one of those days. There is excessive amount of wailing happening. The baby got her 15 mo. imms yesterday so she has an excuse. The boys….oh, the boys…they have no reason to be so ill at ease with life, and yet, they are. There was the “my waffle tore so I must have another one” incident, followed by the “why won’t you make me lunch NOW after I insisted I wasn’t hungry and you sat down to eat your lunch” incident. There have also been numerous spills and demands, including the child currently laying at my feet screaming for a treat. (Does that ever work? Why do they think it should?)

            So, I thought to myself. “Self, let’s go get another coffee. It’s just one of those days. It’ll be worth it.” Then I thought, “Hey, Matt keeps saying that the protein shake stuff is really good in coffee and instead of 100 empty calories maybe they can be chuck full of energy! Yes! Energy! I need energy!” So, I made my K-Cup, cooled it for the appropriate amount of time and mixed in the vanilla protein powder. I smelled it first. That’s in the Widmer code of conduct…you must smell new things before you put them in your mouth to make sure they’re safe. It smelled really good. “Great,” I thought, “this is the beginning of a whole new world of iced coffees.” Next, I added ice and the straw and took a great big swig. My reaction is best summed up in the words of Whoa Susannah and her grocery store Vlog, “MERCIFUL HEAVENS, WHAT NEW HELL IS THIS!?!?!?!”

                        “Why! Why is this so bad?” I wondered to myself. It tasted like someone had stuck a vanilla bean between their sweaty toes and waded through my coffee. It was salty and overly sweet and did not resemble my iced coffee at all. “Now what do I do?” I didn’t want to waste my coffee, it is earth day after all, so I contemplated saving it. To be sure I took another swig! ACK! “Why?! Why would I do that again?” “More Ice, more ice had to be the answer. I grabbed my blender (which I hate to clean so you know I was desperate) and I put ice in it and threw in the coffee and tried to blend it. I say tried because the coffee/protein mixture wouldn’t mix with the ice. “Seriously, what is this stuff? It doesn’t blend with water?” You would have thought that I would have given up, but sadly no. I continued to mix and blend. It grew! I held on to the lid for dear life. Finally, I stopped the blender and tried to put it back into my cup, or half of it. The ice had now doubled the volume. Ya’ll, I actually put it back into my mouth. I just drank as fast as I could. I still couldn’t bring myself to waste the coffee. Alas, after drinking the first half I couldn’t do it anymore. It was so bad.

            I have now tried one of the leading MLM shakes (which tasted like someone took my multivitamin and blended it into liquid) and an off the shelf protein powder and I cannot for the life of me understand why people drink this crap? It’s for real a multi-million dollar market! The only conclusion I can draw is that there must be crack in it. It’s gotta have some sort of addictive qualities. If anyone finds me twitching in the corner, from withdrawals, not from the children, which might be hard to differentiate, we’ll know for sure.

            Guys, I had to eat a half a bag of Cheez-Its and some chocolate covered blueberries to get the taste out of my mouth. Now, I’m slightly concerned about the possibility of anal leakage as an after effect. I just don’t know… I can’t even… I think I’d rather starve. Well, no, that’s not true. I’d rather eat cookies, but since that’s currently not an option I think I’d rather starve. If someone comes up with a protein packed, good for you cookie, that doesn’t include banana or peanut butter (gag, but that’s another rant) let me know. Until then, I shall return to my beloved iced coffee once a day and pray that the children don’t run me into the loony bin.

A Year in Review

…I will look up, for there is none above You. I will bow down to tell You that I need You, Jesus, Lord of all. I will look back and see that You are faithful. I look ahead, knowing You are able, Jesus, Lord of All. Jesus, Lord of All… (Elevation Worship)

At this time last year I was, to borrow a phrase from Anne of Green Gables, in “the depths of despair.” I was 37 weeks pregnant, ready to be done and exhausted. I was looking forward into 2015 and seeing myself as a “single” parent frequently. It looked like Matt, with away rotations and military obligations, was going to be gone for more than 3 months out of the year. I know that there are many military families who face deployments and training much longer than three months but with the last 4 years of medical school absence so clear in my memory, my heart was not ready for such a separation.

In addition to the upcoming absences, we were also struggling financially. Medical School can take a toll on one’s finances and the secret they don’t tell you is that Residency is worse. I pity the poor unsuspecting person who makes a comment about Physicians being overpaid in my presence. By the end of last year we had experienced 6 years of struggle and because of Matt’s busy schedule I was one who would play financial Tetris to make things work. I was burnt out. Matt had tried several things to bail us out, including the National Guard – which he was in, but not yet being paid, and getting his unrestricted license to be able to moonlight for extra income. Every avenue he tried wasn’t panning out. I didn’t honestly believe anything was going to change.

My outlook about the upcoming year was bleak, to say the least. In January, trying to steel myself from the struggles ahead I started a 20 day Bible study by Havilah Cunnington called, “I Do Hard Things,” and honestly I cried my way through most of it as God spoke to my heart. The thing that stuck out the most was this statement (that I’ll paraphrase): We create these scenarios in our heads, we imagine how we think things are going to look or how people are going to react and then we attach our emotions to them. We become emotionally invested in things that have not yet happened and it’s a giant waste of time and energy. WOW! That is exactly what I had been doing and it needed to change. I didn’t know what my year would hold so why was I despairing now? That helped my perspective…a lot!

Another thing helping my perspective was the delivery of Vivienne! I’m not the norm, but I’m always MORE rested when I have a newborn than I am at the end of the pregnancy. As soon as I get out of the hospital and I can do things my way and on my terms I’m a better person. Vivi was no exception and has been an ideal child…way to make me sad that you’re the last baby, kid.

In February God did what we couldn’t! Matt’s back pay came through and also his unrestricted license, allowing him to moonlight. Over this year we’ve watched our income double and we’ve been able to pay of a new car’s worth of debt in less than a year. I am grateful to have a husband who works a full time job, three part time jobs, and a contingent job to get us through this time. I love how we play a part and God picks up and completes the work.

Over the spring and summer I watched as what we thought would be long periods of separation for our family unraveled and fall apart, and the ones that remained were covered in grace. Matt’s weekend drills weren’t as big of a deal as I’d anticipated and because his audition rotation at his chosen Sports Medicine Fellowship program went so well he didn’t have to do many out of town. In fact, he was gone just one week! One week instead of 3 month! I cannot tell you how happy that has made me. My life is always distinctly better when my husband is by my side.

As we looked forward to 2015, we didn’t think we’d be able to take a family vacation, but we’ve had three! THREE! Sometimes I’m amazed at the extravagance of my heavenly Daddy! Our family get-a-way to the cabin in Canada in August fell into perfect place. Then, God gave me a kiss – a nod that my dreams weren’t forgotten – in the form of a sports medicine conference in MN on the dancer’s hip. Day one of the conference was for the medical professional and day two was for the dancer! I learned so much and spent many of the lectures sitting in the back in tears of amazement that even this Mama of 6 could continue my dance dreams.

One of the things that we thought would cause times of separation was a medical policy program to which Matt got accepted. Only 10 people in the nation were selected for this program and Matt was one. It’s quite the honor but it requires conferences in NYC, DC, Chicago, and AZ. The December conference was in DC so we packed up the kids and went a few days early for their first trip to our Nation’s Capital. DC is one of my favorite places, although, I’ve not been there many times. Our time there as a family was precious, even if Elaina was miffed that we not going to a shopping mall but, “a large plot of land that they could build a mall on!”

God spoke to me through my kids the other day. Jillian was playing a game on her tablet and Evelyn watched. Jill quit a round and Evelyn asked her why she quit. Jill’s response was that she was going to lose so she just quit. Evelyn said, “No you weren’t. You just had to shoot this ball over here and then you would have won!” At that point God said to me, “You do that, you know. You quit when you think you’re going to lose but you can’t see what I can see. Don’t quit because you’re going to win.”

I know that this has been a year of reaping for us. I believe there is more reaping to come but I also know that there will be periods of sowing, more times where we will be giving to accomplish the call that God has placed on our lives. But what a year of learning this was for me. I cannot attach my emotions to events that I don’t know are going to happen, it is a good thing to look for the harvest, and I can’t quit just because I think I’m going to lose!

I look back and see His faithfulness and I now look ahead to 2016 knowing that He is able to not just help me survive but to thrive!

I thank God for His goodness to us and I pray that you experience His overwhelming love for you this year.

Blessings,
Jen

Keep Jumping!

In a ballet class a very long time ago, one of my mentors and dance teacher extraordinaire, explained a new concept to me. We were doing sautes, jumps in laymen’s terms, and she was telling us how to improve. With each jump a ballerina must begin with bent knees in a plié, then must push off the ground stretching her legs as much as possible and then pointing her toes as if they were reaching for the ground, then land softly in another plié, rebound and again stretch her legs and toes with energy emanating from them. In amongst the technique she said something like this, “When you feel tired, your muscles are screaming at you, and you’re tempted to not point as hard or stretch as much. When you’re tempted to let things relax, that’s when you need to push harder. Keep pointing and stretching with everything you have. Do one more jump that way, then another, then another; that is how you’ll improve.” I suddenly found myself contemplating those words this week and as usual found that the lessons and discipline I learned in ballet translates to adulthood and real life quite well.

It’s been a really rough week. Matt’s been on an Internal Medicine rotation. When that happens he works a minimum of six 12 hour shifts. Add in an hour drive to work and back and a National Guard Drill day in the mix and you have a very tired hubby and a family who has been without a father for most of the week. Then we’ve gotten another round of the plague. I’m not exactly sure how one family can experience so many viruses in a 5 month span but my guess is we’re super special. (Oh, and I’m pretty sure it’s mostly because I eschew essential oils. For this reason we may never have the ability to be healthy again. But I digress.) And I’ve felt very judged and maligned at times this week, even in the places where your heart is supposed to be the safest.

Anyway, it’s been an exhausting week. Many, many times this week I’ve felt like running away. On one particularly frustrating day I saw myself in my mind’s eye standing in front of that dance studio mirror, jumping, jumping, jumping, pointing my feet for all I was worth and when I was tired, pushing even harder. Years later at a dance intensive run by a professional dance company I was complemented on my jumps. It was because I was taught keep going when things get hard. It was because I learned that we don’t improve when things are easy, we improve when we come to a wall and we push through it.

So, in this crazy thing I call my life, I press on. When a kid dumps an entire plate of food on the floor, I take a deep breath and jump again. When I have to wait with a cart full of squirming kids behind Frick and Frack perusing the yogurt aisle so I can buy my toasted coconut greek yogurt…jump higher. When I have to breathe deeply instead of freaking out at mascara on my kitchen rug…stretch. When I have to apologize to my children for freaking out…stretch harder. When I’m so exhausted but I have to get up with a coughing child…keep pushing. When I need to discipline a child for the same thing they just got disciplined for…reach. When I’ve got to try and find an Easter outfit for a body that’s not what I want it to be…jump, jump, push, SQUEEEEEEZE…Ha! You get the picture. When it’s hard we just have to keep jumping, stretching, and pushing through knowing that the reward is worth it.

Philippians 3:13-14           Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal of the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

Be encouraged, friends, for there are many of us, jumping together. Once again, in my mind’s eye, when that young ballerina sees herself in the mirror there is a whole class with her; jumping together to reach the goal.