thinking about mamas

So I had no intention of blogging about this part of our week. But today I was thinking back over the last few days and figured, why not? I mean, tomorrow is Mother's Day and while this really has little to do with that, in a way, for me it does. Fair warning though, this may be all over the place.

If I had had half a second to update my FB status last Tuesday, it would have said something like this...

Crazy day ahead of me. First thing, fill out immigration paperwork for the little prince, take it to church to get it notarized and then rush to ship it out same day. School the girls, make our lunch, run to speech therapy for Joel where there was a fire drill and we were detained for a bit, finish with four dental cleanings at 3, 3, 4 and 4:00 {45 minute drive each way}. 

We managed to get it all in and even stopped by Sonic for some strawberry real fruit slushes afterward. Hmmm. They were good. The thing is, I'm not made for many of these kind of days. It's just not me. I appreciate that some moms can run their kids from here to yonder, from practice to practice and activity to activity. And if our kids showed a real interest in one particular thing, we would give it its due diligence and consider it for them. But I have no intention of becoming super mom and compromising our family time so that our kids' schedules can dictate the day to day life in our home.

I've come under criticism for this before. {Here, for example}. But I read a great blog post this morning. It's kinda on the verge of going viral and making its way around the web quickly. If you haven't read it, you can do so by clicking here. What she has to say is excellent and so timely I believe. I don't want to come across as being judgmental at all. I agree with Kristen. I don't care what your personal convictions are or about the specifics of how you raise your babies. They aren't my business at all and I'm sure tons of you would disagree with mine. :)

I've just been thinking a lot about mamas lately and the role they/we play. And how that role ebbs and flows. I have only parented a child up to 12 years. Yep, the Pook will turn the big 1-2 next week. Sigh. So I can't begin to imagine what my place will be once they are grown. I'm sure it will be so hard letting go of one role and putting on another. I'm learning things now, though, that I hope will serve them well as adults. And lessons that will serve me well too.

But for today, I'm mama to four babies on this earth.

One who is inching closer and closer to the teen years and has the flat iron and undying desire for a cell phone to prove it.

One who is only nine and a half but has no shortage of opinions or a much needed filter for when to share them.

One Thai tornado who is in constant disobedience both about getting taller and remembering to knock on our bedroom door before he enters.

And one little prince who is unsuspectingly waiting for a forever family in Henan, China.

It has hit me again this weekend that my role for now is to do whatever necessary to grow them up in a way that honors the Lord. Not that it is on my shoulders that they would serve Him with their lives. That's not my job. To be clear,

...the salvation of my children nor the state of their soul is my responsibility.

It is theirs alone.

Jase and I will raise them to know the Truth of the Scriptures. We will model {failing often} the Christian life. We will support them in their endeavors and encourage them to do their best at whatever they attempt knowing that whatever we do, we do to the glory of God. We will offer them the security  of parents who have a God honoring marriage by loving each other more than we love them, by treating each other with kindness and by putting the other's needs above our own.

These things I am responsible for as their mama.

And I accept that role gladly.

I also accept that there will be laundry to do and meals to cook, appointments to shuffle them to, sleepovers to host. Birthdays to plan for, and school work to grade. Arguments to referee and consequences to hand out.

There will be sleepless nights spent crying over a broken heart or a bully. I can also expect a lack of sleep due to an unsuspecting sickness that strikes at bedtime and missed sleep from time spent on my knees asking for the Lord's protection over my babies.

I realize that the struggles to come are not to be compared with the ones we've endured. New trials will surely knock on our door with the arrival of the teen years, and with a fourth sweet baby who needs to attach to his parents and learn how to be part of a family.

These thoughts make me tired.

They are the minority though. The good so far outweighs the hard.

Still, in all of that, I want so much to parent them well.

I want to mama them well.

I'm learning day to day how to do that. I fail miserably many times. But I want them to look back and have an example to follow when they find themselves in their mama role.  That certainly may mean less of me most times. Less of my expectations. Less of my opinion. Less of my way.

Less is hard.

Less means cutting away. Pruning.

Letting them see that I always want more for them than I do for myself. Not in things. But in life. And having the grace to make way for less of me. All the while hoping they see what a privilege I believe it is to be their mama. How blessed I am by them. How the love I hold for them is so strong, it overwhelms me.

That Tuesday? That crazy day? With four dental cleanings? We believe that Syd ingested too much fluoride. I know this because I did the same thing as a child. And at 8pm it began. Severe stomach pain and then vomiting through the wee hours of the morning. I walked upstairs to find my beautiful baby on her hands and knees on the carpet. She was trying to get to me before it happened and it hadn't occurred to her to go to the bathroom first. Or to use the trashcan I had placed beside her bed just in case.

She needed her mama.

While she bathed, I scrubbed.

And then we settled in for a long night on the sofa with our friends, the Ingalls', who lived in the Little House on the Prairie.

I, like you, hate when my babies are sick. I hate it for them. But it was in the moment when I was keeping Syd's hair out of her face with one hand, and holding the trashcan in the other...that I again realized this great privilege I have.

Sweet baby is throwing up her toenails and in between each bout, she is saying over and over,

"I'm so sorry, mama. I'm so so sorry."

Precious, precious girl. She has no idea. I am the one who is sorry. Sorry that she was going through that yucky night. Sorry for ever letting her down or not being enough for her. Even as I reassured her that it was okay, that she was okay and I was okay helping her...it seemed not enough. Rubbing her forehead and whispering I loved her and encouraging her to let it all go, she would just say, "I'm sorry, mama."

How I love her. How I love them all. And want so much to do right by them. It being Mother's Day tomorrow, I guess I'm just feeling the weight of that this weekend. Considering my mama role is intimidating. Just taking it one day at a time. And praying that God works in spite of me.

Much love my sweet babies. Your mama is nuts about all four of you~

*Snapped with my iPhone the next day. Sweet girl is sleeping it off all snuggled up with Georgia.*