Instant Attitude Adjustment--oof!

Spring break is over and it's time to get back to life (I still can't say that without singing Into the Woods). I know that first day back is always challenging. I know this. It is. Knowing doesn't make it easier, but it helps to know why things are hard. It's just the law.

And boy, we followed the law! Second day back wasn't any better. I knew that the next step is my own attitude. I get ugly in my heart after repeated poor treatment. Like I deserve better. It's gross and difficult for me to manage. So, there I was at dinner after two super hard days with the girls, wrestling and forcing myself to be pleasant.

Then it happened. The humbling gut-punch. My girl gushed her multiple thank-yous for a basic dinner of meatloaf and baked potatoes with corn (I was done being sad that we were out of broccoli). Another was pretending to be on a baking show and kept calling the meatloaf meat cake. Other girl was happily smashing everything on her plate and being sure that each person had napkin, utensils, and drinks--repeatedly.

Then a girl said, "I feel like crying because I am so happy to eat this. When we were with (first father), we didn't eat this kind of food. We sometimes had peanut butter sandwiches or nothing. Thank you, Mommy, for making this. Thank you! It is so delicious!"

If I were reading this, I would assume the writer was paraphrasing and exaggerating. Let me tell you, I am toning it down.

My DRA (dirty rotten attitude, doncha know) evaporated, leaving behind humble gratitude tinged with some shame. This life is so much bigger than me and my fragile ego.

March: 2022

We are scooting along through the years. Between 2021 and 2022, we fostered twins, quit all our jobs, and moved 2,000 miles away. I got a job working at a terrible day care with wonderful people. My students were precious, their families generous, and my co-workers exceedingly special. But the system stunk and the center eventually went under.

I had the wonderful pleasure of partnering with my son in the classroom for a while there. By March, we were actively job-hunting. My daughter was doing brave things working in service to people with special needs. My husband was enjoying retirement. We were learning how to ballroom dance!

We were on our third church by then. I was having a hard time finding my place. That was a new challenge for me. I've had struggles in many churches but never had a problem with just finding a church. I felt stiff-armed and unwelcome. I couldn't find an inroad as a working woman. On the other hand, my husband was veritably collecting men's Bible studies. He joined and continued in each group as we church-hopped.

It was difficult and wholly unfamiliar to not have a church family. It stood in stark contrast to the one we had just left. The members of our small group are people my new daughters know and pray for.  They are phenomenal and I am staggered by the lavish love of our Father to let us be in that group that is now scattered across the states. I love them all so much. And their love has sustained me through this weird church-drought we are experiencing.

During this March, we celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary by taking a sleeper train to see Niagara Falls. It was dreamy. Life was dreamy. We were living our happily ever after. What a March!

Wednesdays and "Blended" Families

I changed up my homeschooling schedule to find a routine that is less taxing on all of us.  Today is Wednesday, and that means a Sonlight day in the morning and AWANA at night.  Also, my adult daughter comes for dinner on Wednesdays, which shoots Wednesdays as one of our favorites of the week. 

We often have a more substantial meal (read: I actually plan and execute one). The girls go to AWANA and either my grown kids head downstairs to hang out together, or they join my husband and me for some visiting time.  After the girls get home and go to bed, we might watch a movie or play a game.

Blending families is something our culture is practicing these days to do well for the sake of the kids. That phrase usually refers to families on a second (or more) marriage.  Ours feels like a blended family for different reasons, but we still make a special effort to honor the myriad relationships in this group of seven. One of those ways is to have some four-adult time after the girls go to sleep.

Before the girls joined us, we were a tight family with a unique personality.  It is this quality that I thought made us a good candidate to welcome littles into our family.  I think it is imperative to preserve something of that quality so that we still have that special thing to offer the girls.  

Of course, just as important, we have to shift and adjust to being a unified family of seven, where each person contributes their own tweaks and quirks to become a blended... beast? that represents all of us.

Anyhow, these Wednesday nights are a blessing for us to be four.  My kids giggle and jab at each other.  We watch shows that aren't wholly appropriate for kids. We allow for our relationships to evolve--since our kids aren't kids any more. We remember. We share. We plan. We be. 

It's Been a Rough Week

 I’ve been writing this post in my head for days.  I keep going round and round about the title. 

Breaking The Cycle
It Ends With You
It’s Me, The Problem is Me
Do You Really Expect Them to Fix it On Their Own? (Ya Dummy)

What do you think?  We are having a week!  Like, the entire week feels like one interminable Monday. There are times when all the training just goes out the window.  When I am worn down and can't remember the last break I got, I feel like two people.  There is the rational part of me who knows what would help.  And there is the exhausted shell-of-a-woman part of me that can't muster the best practices. The girls are stubborn, needy, mean, argumentative, demanding, whiney, mean, disobedient, aggressive, disrespectful, loud, distracted, and mean. 

At one point I told one that she cannot play with her sisters anymore because she is not being kind.  She yelled that she was just about to change it when I interrupted.  Oh, really?  I just looked at her.  She might actually believe that she can be mean and had planned on changing her behavior seconds AFTER I intervened, and that I am the unreasonable one.  I could almost go along with her narrative if she changed her behavior even once.

After steeping in this yuck for a week, I feel just as mean and ugly as they are.  I want them to shape up so I can get in a better mood.  Whoops!

Can you hear the record scratch and breaks screech? Yeah, me, too.  It doesn’t make me happy or the situation any easier, but I at least have a cognitive understanding that they aren’t going to get out of the mire on their own. *Sigh* I’m going to have to be the grown-up and press into the Holy Spirit to scrub me clean and fill me up.  I need to be the change because this is definitely not working.