My Garden

As a child, one of the most exciting times of the year was getting the garden ready with my dad.  We'd toil in the dirt, go to the nursery for plants, get them in the ground and then waterwaterwater until harvest.  We had oodles of tomatoes and cucumbers.  Farther back, we helped Grandpa in his garden, picking raspberries (watch out for the bees!) and other things he had in a small garden in his backyard in Warren.  This is the first year I'm planting my own, with the exception of a few potted plants on the deck at the condo.  Oddly enough, I came across a picture of the "first" tomato I ever picked from my own little potted garden.  The date on the picture is July 22, 2003, one year to the day before my first real baby was born.

These are some pictures of my little garden at home, built with love by ryan for mother's day.

Tomatoes

We have a ton of animals...so far so good

Yellow pear tomatoes

Onions

Peas

peppers

These were here when we moved in, I'm not sure what they are.

Making my way back to Me

This last pregnancy dragged me to the depths.  I counted every second until he was born, and practically did nothing else.  Tick Tock. It consumed me.  Everything suffered. My children, my home, my relationships. I wasn't me.  I was The Incubator.  Don't get me wrong, My baby was one of the most important things on earth to me, but somewhere along the way I put Me down to carry the weight of the baby. 

Now that Owen is here, we've developed a routine and settled in, I need to find Me again.  This weekend, during a rare moment out with my husband he said he missed "You and Me".  I replied that I wasn't sure there was a Me anymore.  Then I decided to find Her.

This seems like a selfish attitude, but it's not. This is for him, for Maddie and Ben and Owen.  There's a book called "If Mama Goes South, We're All Going with Her", and thats what I feel has happened. I need to get back to the place where God intends me to be, on the ball, under control, able to cope.  I'm not there right now.

But I'm working on it.  I have never been a very motivated person.  Some would call me lazy.  But in my heart, I HATE having a messy house.  I just don't know where to start.  So Yesterday, I made a list (I love lists).  I worked hard and got most of my stuff done.  It also helped that the kids were angels.  I tried to give myself slack for not completing everything.  I do have a few (three) things that get in the way, and demand attention (every three hours for 25 minutes), so my conditions are not ideal.  I am Not Perfect.  I cannot Do Everything.  I will Stay Motivated.  (I need a Nap). 

I continued today and my kitchen is clean.  I give myself small goals, last week I tried to keep one side of my counter completely cleared off.  (not an easy feat, we have an insanely small area of counter space).  This week it's both sides of the sink.  I'm trying to keep the small counter cleaned off too, but I won't "require" it of myself for a few days.  It's clean now because of a party, and I'm trying to keep it that way. 

I'm also working on my body.  Three kids and stretchmarks up to my eyeballs later, I'm NOT happy.  Trying clothes on this weekend put me thisclose to tears.  Today is the first day of a new challenge for me.  But I have issues, nursing requires more calories,and any type of jumping is practically out of the question, unless I duct tape my breasts down.  Time is also an issue, chasing the big kids and having Owen gives me long enough to do about 7 minutes of anything.  But I'm gonna try, I'm gonna do my best.

Lastly, I'm focusing on my spirit.  Both my spiritual self, and the relationship with God, (which has also been lacking, though I do a LOT of praying right now) and my own spirit, who I  am.  I got a Kindle for my birthday, and I love it.  I am an information seeker. I read voraciously, and now is not the best time to have any time to fill the space.  I need to read.  Though I still love to hold the pages in my hand, smell the ink on the pages, the Kindle allows me to turn pages with one hand, balance it on my knee, hold my place.  In a few days, I've read a ton already, and feeling more stimulated by it. I can read 5 or 6 books at a time (as I am prone to do) and not chase them down when I want them. 

I have taken my Bible out of my car (for small group! I always forget it, so I leave it in there) and opened it up next to me.  Pastor Tim suggested Ps. 139 23-24, and I'm going to take it to heart, seeking to be led when He wants me to go. 

I worry that I'm trying to do too many things at once.  But I hope I can make it without getting too frustrated in the set-backs.  The timing is good; summer started, new year for me, I feel fresh.  Time to get started.

Mothers Prayer

Dear God, Thank you for this day.
Thank You for all my comforts; all I have is by Your hand.
Grant me patience, creativity, grace, laughter, and the ability to handle the responsibilities You have given me.
Thank You for the tiny hands and the tiny hearts that You have entrusted me with.
Bless my struggles, Lord. I know they only strengthen me.
Ease my fears when my inadequacy and inability overwhelm me.
Thank You for the gifts of Love I receive every day. Through them, I am better able to know the Love You have for me.
Guide my path, use my words and actions, let it be all for you.
Amen 

The Rocking Chair

My mom and her husband are moving.  Well, less moving than an extended working vacation.  She is following him around at his new job, which is located in Texas, then Vegas, then California; for now. My mother lives with few material possessions, she lives lightly and is packing up her belongings for storage for when she returns in the future.  She asked me to take two pieces of furniture that she didn't want to put into storage, a hope chest of her grandmother on her father's side, and a rocking chair from her mother's mother.      

Jim brought over the chair today and I put it in Owen's room, because I don't have a chair to rock him in.  I have sat in this chair many times, most recently last week at mom's house.  But today, in my house, with my child, I had a thought.  I wondered if my grandmother ever thought her great granddaughter would be rocking her great-great grandson in this chair? 

I knew my great-grandmother Throckmartin, the first Mary (that I know of).  She was over 40 when she had my grandmother, the second Mary, but she lived to be 95.  Oddly enough, grandma Mary Alice died when she was only 59.  I remember Great-grandma pushing me in her wheelchair (that she didn't really need) at the nursing home.  According to my grandfather, she was not a pleasant woman, but to me, she was a tiny old woman who lived in a tall building and couldn't hear when she took her hearing aids out. I don't really know much about her, born Mary Plafchan around 1896, married in 1919 to Andrew Kubina, had Jennie and Andy.  Her first husband died, and in her 40's, married Roy Throckmartin a police officer originally from Indiana.  I have a feeling that she was not thrilled to be pregnant with my grandma. 

But I think of her as a woman my age, with a young daughter, a baby son.  Did she rock her baby as she nursed him and look deep into his eyes, imagining his future? Were the strains of motherhood making her tired?  The '20's weren't an easy time to be a mother, handwashing diapers, clothes, cooking with no modern conveniences.  I think I have it hard now, but I'm sure any mom back then would be in heaven if she were in my shoes. 
This Grandma is the first, while my daughter is the fifth "Mary".  My mom was called "little" Mary, my grandma Mary Alice, myself the only not official Mary, and my own daughter, Mary Madeline.  I am proud to be in this lineage of women, proud to have passed on the legacy of a strong, beautiful name, proud to sit in the same chair and rock my child. 

Time

And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I've tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass...

This winter, I sat in my front window looking at the bleak sky and the leaf-less tree.  I remember thinking ahead to leaves and sun and son. Now I sit and see the mature tree, the bright blue sky, hear the shouts of my children playing in the sprinkler on the grass, feel the warm air blowing over me.  It was a LONG winter.  My day-dreams of sweet baby breath and branches beginning to bud have been realized. 

It's amazing how long that winter's day seemed, and how long ago.  My tiny baby is 7 weeks, and my other babies are growing like weeds as the days pass by.  I felt like I was pregnant forever, and now that I won't be again, I should try to remember the wonderful things about it; feeling him hiccup, watching him roll around.  But happily, most of those unpleasant memories are blocked out by the fact that he is a sweet baby, cubby and smiley with his crazy mohawk of curly hair.  I pick him up and he puts his arms around my neck and squeezes with all his baby might.  My heart (and body) forget all the pain and sleeplessness he's caused, I am only in love, in this moment.   

Invisible

My job as a stay-at-home mom  is to make everything invisible.  The goal is to make it seem like no one lives here.  No dishes on the counter, no clothes in the hamper, no dust on the TV.  No one uses these things.  One person (me) has the job of making our house seem like there are no inhabitants.  I spend the days undoing the signs of our existence, only to have it redone.  WHY? Then I figured it out. 
We DO live here!!
As neat and tidy as I make it, as many hours as I put in scrubbing on my hands and knees, it will never end, I will never have a clean house.  BECAUSE WE LIVE HERE. 
I cleaned the kitchen before a visit from my cousin this weekend and before she came we had to eat lunch.  So immediately there were dishes, crumbs and (eek!) children eating food at the table! They get crumbs on the floor.  They get stains on the chairs.  I could try to put them in bubbles, but they'd just get fingerprints on them.
I have a hard time justifying an hour long task that will be immediately undone as soon as I finish. I get extremely frustrated.  I like to see the results of my hard work.  Knowing it will have to be redone makes me want to not do it. 

To Be

moth·er

NOUN: A woman who conceives, gives birth to, or raises and nurtures a child.

My entire life I have wanted to be a "mom".  When you're small, you don't see the trials and tribulations of the day-to-day, only the kisses, the soft skin, the tiny arms around your neck.  Being a mom is more than those things, as the definitions states, raising and nurturing is more challenging and rewarding than most other things you will do in life.
Nurturing includes loving, caring, helping them grow, but also letting them experience life on their own.  Allowing them to make mistakes and guiding them back on the right path.  Nurturing can mean not giving them what they want, but rather what they need, and that may cause backlash and fighting.  Our jobs are to make them healthy, happy, successful humans, not the entitled, selfish, needy beings that come into this world. To transform them into independent adults is the goal...and during the molding, you have no idea if you're on the right track.