The Creepy Mom

So last night I sat in my sons room and watched them sleep.  I did, I just sat there and stared at them.  I watched their little chests rise and fall, and I listened to Jack snore.  I thought about this other little guy, the one waiting to come, and then I thought, "Oh man.  Three boys.  What has Cole gotten me into."
(I know it's not Cole's fault; I like to tease him about it anyway.)

Well, this morning my mom sent me a message asking me how I was doing.  I said I felt fat.  Between the physical limitations with this pregnancy, and the holidays, I do, I feel fat.  She responded, "You're not fat!  You're pregnant!  Enjoy it since this is your last time."  Oh.  I'm enjoying it.  Hence why I feel fat.  I didn't say I WAS fat, though the weight gain is clearly obvious (as is the belly).  I simply said I FELT that way.

Back to last night.  Last night while I was staring at my boys sleeping I thought, "This is endearing.  And creepy.  I'm kind of a creepy mom."  I'm not creepy in a hauntingly, terrifying, or spooky sense.  Although, I am sure had my sons woken up while I was watching them they may have argued otherwise.  I, for one, have a mild panic attack when I wake up to find a face staring at me in the middle of the night.
It's a harmless face, usually.
One that says something like, "Mom, I need a drink."
Or "Mom, James threw up in the bed."
No, I'm more of a "let me see how uncomfortable I can make you right now" creepy.

I make them clean their rooms.  Soooo creepy.  I make them help with chores.  They are 5 and 2.  It's rude; I'm a jerk.  I also make them clean up their pee when they miss the toilet.  I am in charge of their waste when it is in a diaper, not after.  Balance of power, you see.  They get agitated about it, but who's the boss?  Creepy mom.
Creepy mom makes them eat what's for dinner; eat it or go to bed.  Creepy mom gives them hardly any candy.  Don't go all progressive parent on me, they get goodies, I'm not the devil.
(C'mon, I'm the bakery queen.  They get treats, trust me.)
We play outside, we don't play video games all the time.  I play with them, but I also make them use their imagination.
Creepy mom needs to do her own creepy things sometimes.

Why do I do these things?  Well, back to the pregnancy deal.  I feel like it.  I am a big follower of how I feel.  I think about it, research it if I can, I "mull it over," then I let my heart lead.  And if I don't know how I feel about something?  That's when meditation or a lot of "oh $#!& that wasn't the best option" moments come into play.

With my kids?  I follow my heart, and my gut, and my head.  I follow this intrinsic path because no one knows my kids like I know them.  They hold half of me, and I know myself relatively well.  Therefore?  I know at least half of them.
God made it that way.
Google can't decide what's best for a child it doesn't know.
Momma knows best.  Period.
Sometimes I think we forget that.  Sometimes I think we forget how gifted we really are, especially when it comes to the life we've been given.  For me?  It's motherhood.  If I really take the time to actually TAKE the time and try what I think is best, it's usually what's right.
My heart doesn't lie to me.
I just need to stop being too afraid to follow it.

As for my kids?  Well, with their learning curves and tantrums, their growing pains, their aha moments, and any owie, sickness or heartache they might experience, I will be there.
I may not always know what's best, but I will always know what to do if I am quiet enough to listen.

I'm supposed to give them what they need to be the best they can be, but I can't make them into something they're not.  I myself am constantly growing, and so will they.
So I'm a creepy mom.
One day?
One day I hope my boys will be creepy dads.
But if they're not I know they will do exactly what they were meant to do.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Small Enough

Sometimes life makes me feel very small.  The feeling of being small doesn't necessarily have anything to do with my physical stature, but more my mental, emotional or spiritual state of being.  This last month there have been some experiences.  I won't go into detail, but I will say that these experiences have left me looking for deeper meaning.

They've left me with more understanding eyes, and a softer heart.

Sometimes life has a way of forcing you to realize that being small is really what matters.  Quotes concerning the "small things" are ever prevalent, particularly since the new year has commenced and everyone is setting new goals, and reaching for dreams again.  Reaching, stretching, and bringing ourselves to the brink of a greater good is always, well, good.  

But in our quest to stretch ourselves to greater lengths, we sometimes become blind to the small things.  

Tiny details make a difference when we step back and see the bigger picture.

In my life, those small things are, quite literally, little.  It's very easy to let life distract us from what's important, and life had been doing just that a couple months ago.  I was distracted, and I was distracted by a lot of things.
In truth, they didn't really matter.  

They mattered, yes, but compared to other things they didn't matter nearly as much.

We all want to inspire others; we all want to inspire ourselves.  We all want to become something greater, or better, than we are now.  We all usually have good intentions, and as we inspire ourselves, or others, we either become more focused on truth, or completely lost in what we think is truth.

Living requires balance.  We cannot stand focused if we are leaning too much towards the future, backwards in the past, or looking from side to side imagining what it could be like to travel the path of another.

Life is the master of distraction, and the teacher of truth.

It's up to us to focus; it's up to us to quiet our minds enough to really listen to what life is trying to teach.  

What we get from life depends wholly on how we choose to learn from it. 

My small things are front and center now.  It's not much to the eyes of many others, but when I get down on my knees and play with the hot wheels, or I sit for over an hour pretending to be the purple monster, my small moments become monumental.

Whatever the present provides, or however it happens to be presenting itself, is the only thing I can control.  This moment, this now, this is what I have complete control over.  I will continue to reach, and stretch, and dance, and sing with life.  I will still make goals, and desire dreams.  

I will still look forward to tomorrow.

But moderation matters.  

Today, and hopefully every day, I intend to be small enough.  

Small enough to truly hear.  

Small enough to better see, and small enough to understand the bigger picture.

Sometimes, life makes me feel very small.

And that isn't necessarily a bad thing.