For my regular readers, I am taking part in the Being a Mom is Tough Blog Hope. We are reading Lysa TerKeurst's book Am I Messing Up My Kids? For my new guests, WELCOME! I'd like to introduce you to those boys who call me Mom.
I do have a name. My name is Natasha. And this is me with ALL of by boys. My husband Jeff is the lucky man who God chose to be the daddy of these boys and the husband of this mama/wife.
My boys are simply amazing. What mama wouldn't say that?
Carson is my middle child. Although he is eight years old, he is still very much my baby. After Carson was born, he was rushed to NICU due to fluid in his lungs. It was very scary for us, and he still has problems to this day. He has to have breathing treatments when the weather changes or he will get sick. Living in south central Kentucky where we can experience all four seasons in one week can pose major health risks for him. We have to be very cautious even with a runny nose or slight cough. It's hard for family to understand that we don't visit much due to the cigarette smoke. He has asthma and is allergic to nuts and peanut butter. So, I carry around an EpiPen and inhaler everywhere we go. Carson is very matter of fact. Repetition is pointless if he already knows something (Seriously, the two weeks his kindergarten teacher made him trace his name was torture....on both of us.). In first grade, he was placed into a small reading intervention group because he was having trouble with nonsense words. I just had to laugh. Nonsense words??? Are you kidding? If they don't really exist and he is already reading on a 3rd grade level, Carson doesn't care about nonsense words! Carson loves science. He loves to read. He learns things, and I'm like, "What? Where did you learn that?" He's taught me stuff that I actually had to look up because I just couldn't believe he would know something like that. Carson is a very neat kid. He has the advantage of being able to do things with Colin and be a "big kid" or do things with his little brother. When my youngest child was born, I had to take Carson out of daycare. He would get up with me during the middle of the night to help me with diapers and bottles. He became my shadow and developed a bond with his baby brother. I am curious to see what Carson will do as he gets older. He is such a homebody like his mama, but he loves to learn. He can be quite a character too! He has the most awesome Charlie Brown dance you have ever seen!
I absolutely LOVE being a mom. It is definitely tough. My kids are no angels and I am no saint. So, yes, things get a little hairy. They disobey. I fuss. They keep on. I fuss a little louder. They keep on. I yell. They tell me I am mean and don't like it when I yell, and I tell them, they are disrespectful and I don't like it when they don't obey me. If they would just do what I said the first time I said it, our lives would be so much simpler! There are times we are laughing, calm, having a good time, and all of sudden, they are ready to get each other. I am prying kids off of kids, and swatting butts, and yelling, and they are yelling, and slapping at each other. It's in those moments I'm like, "Wait! What just happened?" We all totally lost it in a matter of seconds.
Sometimes it is so hard to remember that my kids aren't these perfect creatures, that they will disobey and fuss and fight and not make good choices. That is difficult when I know they know better. Sixth grade about killed me this year. As a teacher, I take pride in the fact that my kids know (well, should know) what parents and teachers expect, and I had the allusion they would always do the right thing. But when Colin chose not to do his work for reading the last quarter, I about died. What? One of the smartest kids in his class?? An F in reading??? He chose not to do the work???? Oh, this mamateacher wasn't going to have it. It about killed us both, but he brought the F up to a B. Whew! That was close.
There are times I wonder where these kids get their stubbornness, their fits of rage, their attitude. Then I look in the mirror and realize that I am the problem. And honestly, I ask myself on a daily basis, "Am I messing up my kids?" As a mom, that is a major fear of mine. Am I going to be too strict? Will I not be strict enough when I need to be? Will I say something that will ruin their perceptions of themselves? Will they doubt my love for them? Am I able to raise them to be the men God intends for them to be? God has entrusted me with these children. He chose me to be their mom. God's ways are perfect, and He doesn't mess up. Why then do I doubt that I can be the mother these kids need me to be? I know that Satan is fighting for my children just like I am. I don't want him to get his hands on them, but I worry that my actions will allow him to. I know I need to lean on God to be the mom I am supposed to be. I know that if I truly seek Him, God will restore my, refresh my perspective, and guide me.
I am thankful for God's mercy. I need His forgiveness daily. I need to not define myself by my mistakes, but take heart in the good moments, those moments that really build my children up. I have to stop expecting everything to be great and calm and easy all the time. That's not realistic. There are going to be days of sibling rivalry, disobedience, and flat out defiance. There are going to be days they don't clean up their toys, put their dirty dishes away, or clean the pee off the toilet seat. There are going to be days where we feel like we are going to pull our hair out if we have to spend one more moment together. But there are also going to be the days we laugh together, swim together, play together. There will be the days we give hugs, kisses, and high fives. There will be the days we pray together, sing together, and encourage one another. Those are the days I need to draw my strength from. I need to dwell on those days, not the tough days. Those tough days are for learning, for forgiving, for moving on.
No matter what day I am having, I am thankful. Thankful that God gave me an amazing husband and allowed us to be the parents of these precious children.