Year: 2014 (Page 25 of 37)

When I Paid GoDaddy $10 for Google to Eat my Blog

There was a day, not too long ago, that I was perfectly content in my blogger world, oblivious to the realities of Interwebs Law. Such as, autorenew your domain name. A few weeks later, via a looooooonnngg convo with a young fellow in Phoenix and 8000 emails with Burak in Southeast Asia and this is what I get:

godaddy

 

Fantastic. Fortunately my Personal Internet Genius, Jordan, and I had been discussing making a move from the Big G to my WordPress he had created. So here we go. New digs. Have a looksee around. Put up your feet. Find all those fancy share buttons and email subscribe thingys I hear all about.

Hopefully I’ve fixed things for all the feed-readers out there (are there any of those, thanks to Google yanking the Reader a year ago? And what does the Google have against bloggers anyway? Why do you hate us so?)

Oh, wow. Take a look at these formatting options. Who knew I’d been driving the Ford Escort of the Bloggy world? (No offense to you Escort drivers. They’re cute.)

Learning Curves

One of the most common questions I get about my mothering (outside of “how far apart are they?”) is where I had the biggest learning curve – the jump from 1 to 2 or 2 to 3. Everyone assumes that by the 4th child, you’ve finally got the hang of it. Whatever “it” is. 

In all honesty, my learning curves were gentle. For the first few, my husband was home more often than the average family while he finished his masters. And when we added Lady C, we also moved 3 counties away only 2 weeks after she was born – it was hard to tell what was adapting to a third and what was adapting to a new community. 
Of all adaptations, I tried to remain faithful to one truth: they’re all different kids. I told a friend the other evening that this was my best piece of parenting multiples advice. When you find yourself saying, “well, with the first one, I….” then you’re starting to walk toward a world of hurt, for both you and the little one. Second borns are different than first borns. Girls are different than boys. Spirited children are different than quiet ones. While we all hail from the same parents and share many of the same patterns, routines and ideas about what “normal” is, every child simply turns out different. (My friend raising triplets nods her head). 
Happy Birthday, Miss M! Sorry the blog is about a week too late. 
Miss M was my introductory course on parenting different children. She was a different kind of baby than her older brother – most notably in that she could HEAR everything, which changed our game. Her sense of humor is richer – she can find simple things hilarious, which after reading Tina Fey’s book, I now take as a sign of deep intelligence. 
At first it’s differing sleep patterns or sensitivities to food while you nurse – but these are the somewhat easier differences to spot. Now I’m learning how to speak her love language. I’m understanding her need for order. I see her tendencies to crave attention – from her parents (while we’re talking to other adults, most often), from her brother, from teachers – while not diving into the spotlight. And her pace – OH, her constant and steady yet never hurrying pace – I must remember to treasure the consistency when I’m frustrated by lack of speed. 
“That first baby christens you as mother,” a friend says. But those consecutive babies push your boundaries of love further and further because of all the practice. With each little one I’m challenged to love them for who they are, not who I wish them to be simply because that’s who the other baby became. I’m finding it more effective to switch the focus from my expectations to their giftings and make-up. 
I haven’t completely figured this out yet. Actually, I’ve barely found ways of living this out in practice. While I hold dear their differences, when you ask me what that looks like at bedtime, I’m dumbfounded. How to put my appreciation for their make-up into parenting practices and daily routine – because I thrive on routine and rules – stretches me. But I’m leaning in, trying for it. It’s the best I can do. 

Busy Victims

Nothing jazzes me more than talking big picture ideas – like how to make discipleship a practical reality in our faith community. What does that look like? How do we get there? What would that mean for the people here? The pastor walked up to the white board and I got all happy-clappy. 

The idea of discipleship as a lifestyle became part of my DNA through college, thanks to the vision of @RealBMac. It’s a value system. Though I’ve not been able to enter in a formal relationship at every stage of my life since, I have actively sought out younger women to give time and attention to, usually by meeting up for coffee, ice cream or even going for a run. Though sometimes exhausting (oh, teenagers…), I’ve come to view it as one of the the most important things I can do to live out my faith.
As we discussed discipleship and the freedom that comes with a campus schedule – oh to be 21 again! – the pastor bravely said, “I think we’re too quick to throw out that model simply because people are busy.” 
A-to-the-men. 
I get that people have jobs and kids and commitments. We do! This is part of life, and a good life. An evening of Two and a Half Men reruns every night would be an obscenely boring way to live. So we invest in schools and clubs and running programs and drinks with a friend. We volunteer with the PTA or join the VBS team at church. These are beautiful things that return us home at 10pm exhausted and wondering why we can’t just have dinner as a family anymore. 
This Beautiful Struggle: Stop the glorification of busy
But stop. Seriously. We’ve glorified these wonderful things to the point where “I”m so busy” has become a badge. Although we all feel we simply cannot take on another thing, we’ve given honor to the frantic rat race because our society has taught us to believe if we’re not SO BUSY than we’re not doing something right. Your kids will never get into college, be able to swing a bat in public, or they may just end up in jail if they’re not socially awkward freaks. 
I contend that busyness is not a state of the calendar but of the mind. Busy is when your calendar bosses you around, rather than you directing your time and energies wisely (a Fruit of the Spirit, according to Galatians 5 in The Message). Busy comes when you forfeit control for the sake of what you’re told is best. 
When a person utters “but we can’t just…” then it’s a clear sign of the glorification of busy. The events and activities of our lives have begun to control us rather than complement the life we’re given. We have been taught we cannot say no to the basketball coach, the church ministry, the overnight or the fundraiser. But it’s a lie: we can. And we should. 
My friends, have no shame in saying it: That doesn’t fit for what is best for our family right now. 
We love the idea, but have other priorities. 
How about another time? 
We cannot do this, but how can we support you in other ways? 
I can hear the parents of older children already… “just you wait.” I get that my non-involved 5-year-old makes this an easy message to preach. But no lobster stays swimming in boiling water – it dies after the pot warms over time. 
After reading The Price of Privilege and  The Overachievers, I’m convinced the mentality of “more is better” and “activity equals success” will continue to crush the spirits of our emerging generations*. They might not learn the sacred gift of knowing what enough looks like. More, better, best will race them through life at the cost of beautiful opportunities to experience goodness, all for the sake of winning an imaginary prize to the top. 
Fill your days with events and activities that grow you. This can even mean the things which are not our favorite, but are best. But live as if you actually have a voice, if not the voice, in deciding how to spend your time. When we begin to live not as victims of an unruly calendar we may find just how much joy these hours will bring us.  
*Hey church. I’m looking right at you, too. The softball team doesn’t have a corner on this market. 


*H*
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