The tattered Precious Moments children’s Bible sits on our kitchen shelf.  Its pages are filled with pink notes written in my loopy 8th grade handwriting … and truth.  Truth that’s been nourishing my spirit since my Grandma Marlene gave me that Bible for Christmas almost twenty years ago.

Truth that I’ve been sharing with Little Man since he was three months old.

And yesterday, this –

“Bah-buh!” {pointing to the Bible}

“You want to read the Bible, sweetie?  You want to read the Bible?!?!”  {Little Man nodding}

Now, I know, at 21 months old, that he was asking to read the Bible pretty much because it’s part of our daily routine and he’s come to expect it.

But I also know that although he understands very little of what we read today, these seeds of truth are nourishing his little spirit and they will bear fruit later.

I can’t put into words the joy that washed over me in that moment.

Or the panic that followed.

Because daily Bible reading isn’t the only thing that Little Man has picked up from his mama.

The smallest smudge of peanut butter on his pudgy little finger can spark a three-alarm meltdown.  Music of any kind sets his feet a-dancing.  One of his first words was “llama.”

Where’s he getting this stuff?  {ahem}

Our children are sponges, mama.  Sticky, loud, adorable sponges.  They soak it all in.

Everything we do, everything we say … they absorb it all, and their little hearts translate –

This is the way things should be done, this is the way things should be said.

The enormous weight of that responsibility sends me to my knees.

Please, Lord, when he looks at me, let him see You.  Let him see the joy, the peace that comes from knowing you.  The sin that I struggle with … let it not touch him, Father.

When my son looks at me, I want him to see a woman whose heart is on fire with love for the Savior who redeemed her, whose knees hit the floor daily on behalf of her family.

What do you want your children to see?  What are you modeling for them today?

God bless,
Megan

Dear High Chair,

He doesn’t mean it, I promise. It’s just a passing fancy, an aberration … like the week he randomly decided to hate bath time.

Little Man will return to you, I’m sure of it.  The table just represents being a big boy, and we both know he’s been showing off his big boy skills lately, so that’s all it is.

He’s only 19 months old, for goodness sake.  So he’s clearly not ready for the table.

We’ve had some good times, high chair, and I’m not ready to let go yet.

Remember the good o’le days when he’d eat anything I put in front of him? Prunes, sweet potatoes, even lentils were all received with a big gummy grin.

We’ve stuck together through the tough times, too.  Like when he hit 13 months and suddenly discovered his own will. Things haven’t been the same since he fell in love with the word “no,” but we’ve pressed on.

You’ve been smothered in runny carrots, smashed Cheerios and who knows what else, and you’ve taken it like a champ.

Don’t tell him I told you, but Mister is ready to relegate you to that dusty corner of the basement where the infant swing and the Exersaucer live.

Don’t worry, I won’t let that happen.  Because if Little Man is too grown-up for you, high chair, then where does it end?  The diapers?  The sippy cups?  The CRIB?!?!

No, no, no.

You’re staying right where you are, in the kitchen, where you belong.  He’ll come around, high chair, just you wait.

I had a plan for this morning.

God had other plans for me.

The Thanksgiving grocery shopping, trip to the post office, credit union errand … these will all have to wait, because Little Man is sick with a fever.

So I will wrap him up in his blankie and hold him close as we watch this Thomas the Tank Engine video for the fifth time in two days.  And I will breathe in his cinnamon-and-baby soap smell and kiss the top of his sweet downy head, and I will give thanks.

I will give thanks … and trust God for the time to tackle my to-do list.

God bless,
Megan

Of course you’ve heard of the “baby blues” — the wild mood swings and weepy hysteria that new mamas get to enjoy after giving birth, courtesy of our rapidly changing hormones.

But there’s another, lesser known  type of “blues” that we usually don’t talk about — the stay-at-home mom blues.

A brand new at-home mama experiences a complete lifestyle change that can make her feel like her whole world just turned upside down.

I’ve been there, believe me.  In my first months at home with Little Man, I often felt completely alone and overwhelmed.

Here’s my advice to help you ease the transition.

1.  Get out.

For the first six months of Little Man’s life, I stuck to his nap schedule with unyielding commitment.  He was just emerging from the colic phase and was very sensitive to becoming overtired.  His maximum wake-time was 1 hour and 5 minutes, and nothing — neither play date nor grocery store run — was worth putting him down for his nap ten minutes too late and risking him becoming overtired.

In hindsight, it was definitely important to keep Little Man’s wake-times short and to get him down for his naps on time, but I should have loosened the reins occasionally to allow myself a much-needed mental break.  Sometimes a little Target trip does a mama good.

God created you as a relational being with a real need for fellowship.  Give yourself permission to meet a girlfriend for coffee.  Or convince the hubby to take you out to that little Greek restaurant you two used to frequent when you were hip young newlyweds.  Remember The Giving Tree?  It is not selfish — I repeat, it is not selfish — to take care of yourself.

2.  Stay in.

Most of my girlfriends aren’t parents, and once Little Man was born, I began to long for relationships with other new mamas who could relate to what I was going through.

I joined my local MOMS Club, a support group for stay-at-home moms.  My chapter is very active, with a play group,  museum outing or playground meet-up scheduled for just about every day.  It’s been great to connect with other new moms, and I love all the opportunities to get Little Man out of the house.

But … I’m a homebody by nature.  I need a lot of home time to feel balanced, and if I have too many activities outside the home, I get stressed.

If you’re like me, and the thought of too many outside activities makes your blood pressure rise, give yourself permission to recharge your batteries in the cozy comfort of home.

3.  Go easy on yourself. 

You’re different now.  You’re not the same woman you were before you were a stay-at-home mom, and it can take some time to adjust.

So maybe your baby is eating pureed carrots from a jar instead of homemade organic kale.  And maybe you can’t remember the last time you actually blow-dried your hair.  And maybe the leftovers in your fridge no longer resemble food.

Give yourself a break, mama.  You’re going through a major life transition, and all things considered, you’re handling it pretty darn well.

4.  Get on your knees.  

After Little Man was born, I was so caught up in the frenzy of feedings, diaper changes and soothing him to sleep every other hour that I neglected to spend time with God.

God understands, I thought.  This is just a season in my life, and when things settle down, I’ll get back on track with Him.

I was partially right.  It was just a season.  But it was a season in which I needed Jesus more than ever.

I love what author Beth Moore has to say about prayer –

“The path to peace is paved with knee prints.”

She is so right.  I lacked peace as a new mother, not only because I was getting all of three hours of sleep a night, but because my spirit was longing for the Prince of Peace.

I want to encourage you to spend time with Jesus.  Even if it’s for two minutes.  Get alone with God, get on your knees, and let His sweet presence surround you and His peace wash over you.

God bless,
Megan