Is this a mom blog now? Don’t put a label on me.

Is this a mom blog now? Don’t put a label on me.

Some days we sit on the back porch and watch Weller scarf down his dog food in a frenzy. Well, she’s watching him, I’m watching her. Her cheeks are chubby and her eyes so wide. Her hair, which I still can’t pinpoint a color for, is growing over her little ears. She’s caught off guard when he chokes on a piece of dog food and she laughs really hard. Oh no, did she inherit my sense of humor where she laughs when people find themselves in a state of misfortune, get hurt, or fall? *Awkwardly backs out of the room, not making eye contact with anyone.*

I thought maybe I’d get Cabin Fever being a SAHM. It’s all new to me. I had no idea what to expect. Would I get bored? Miss all day adult human interaction? Miss the routine of leaving the house in the morning? Would I be a slave to clean floors since I was home all day?

As is life, things have come in phases, and that’s been my favorite part of being a SAHM. And good gosh, don’t look at my floors because if I’ve done anything with my time at home, it hasn’t been to scrub them floors. Is it bad that I give Noella her treasured Puffs in a little pile on the floor, like a puppy? Don’t answer that. Plus, God made dirt and dirt don’t hurt. Boom.

The first few months were all about learning to fly solo during the day. Feed baby around the clock, make sure Shawn has at least one clean pair of dress socks for tomorrow. If your to-do list contains one thing and it’s “make sure there’s at least one clean pair of socks for tomorrow”, and you accomplish that task, you’ve won the day! Do cheer for yourself. Don’t beat yourself up that there was just that one small thing on the list. Sometimes we start small, and build from there.

I’ve loved being home with my baby over this past year. I found a strong sense of pride in caring for her, even in the little every day things, and in caring for our home. But those feelings didn’t just fall on my lap. It was a supportive teammate doing his part to keep me home. It was Shawn reminding me that I’m behind every sale he makes at work, and that caring for our daughter lets him do what he does. All the while knowing that it was him working hard day in and day out that kept me at home taking on the greatest role I’ve ever had.

It doesn’t mean every day is a sunshine cake walk. Just about 45 minutes ago, I literally screamed, “No! Don’t eat that!!!” as I watched in shock and horror as Noella picked up some poop from her in-crib diaper explosion. SO. yeah. Life. It’s messy. Even when it’ sweet. Like anything, it’s work and it can be exhausting. More so lately because she’s getting more mobile, and screams when she doesn’t feel like having her diaper changed (“Lay still for 45 seconds?! FORGET IT. I have a life to LIVE, mom.”), or wants the donut of the man sitting next to us. And we want to guide her, and lead her the way that God would have us lead her. So it’s a learning curve, no doubt. Our culture says to just let babies and kids be. Not us, we want to ask for wisdom in this venture. We want to talk to parents who have done a good job. We want to end the day exhausted, but knowing we gave it our all. Even if that means someone has to learn they can’t have the stranger’s donut. (Looking at you, Jenn. Geez. Control yourself.)

Texting Shawn about the day…

I’m so thankful for people like Kathleen Nelson who send me resources on raising kids. Because she’s done it (X8). And done it well. I’m thankful for people to look up to, and older friends to help guide us. Cause this is our first rodeo. And come January it’ll be our second rodeo. Whoop!! (Guess I can break out my “This ain’t my first rodeo” shirt.) It’s a privilege. And as sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet as the newborn, and first few months are, the work shifts from loving and cuddling, to training in love. To asking God for extra patience, because *someone* just threw the remote at your face and it may or may not be bleeding. (Looking at you, Shawn. Geez. Control yourself.)

It’s true, some days can feel mundane. And I wonder if I’m “doing” enough, if it matters, and if anyone even noticed I killed the 75 spiders on the windowsill.

But with a teammate on my side, and my identity set in Christ, and not what I accomplish in a day, I’m reminded of my worth. I’m reminded that I have nothing to prove. I am loved, accepted, and a daughter of the King, no matter how society views SAHMs. No matter what a day holds.

From day 1 I felt the hugeness of this job: to shape and mold and influence. May God give me what I need, what we need, as parents. As teammates. And for crying out lout, will that stranger just share some of his dang donut already?!?!

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