I'm THAT Mom

Comparison is the thief of joy. 

Theodore Roosevelt

Someone smarter than me said that. And it's true. I'm going to share a very real, raw, and true story that is telling of how just a little, teensy weensy bit of pride and comparison will set you up to trip and fall on your face in poop. 

Pride goes before destruction, and haughtiness before a fall.

Proverbs 16:18 NLT

Picture it, Christmas, 2012. Okay, the Sunday before Christmas. We wake up to a sick mini diva. Poor thing had diarrhea. Just about nothing worse than your baby being sick: especially a stomach sickness. Especially the day of the BIG Christmas party with her aunts and uncles and grandparents. 

I, of course, was convinced it was just too much candy or treats. No one would catch what was surely just the reaction to her eating too many Christmas cookies from the church party. Surely it wouldn't be a stomach virus. Surely she didn't catch anything from anyone at the church party. Right?

Yes, you are mother of the year. Now I can't breathe.

Wrong. I went to church the morning of our family Christmas event since I taught Sunday School and sang on the worship team. While there I learned that two of the children who attended our church's Christmas party both had the stomach flu. And had it actively on the day of the party. For the record, it wasn't the mom who brought the kids to the party. She's not that mom. 

I'm that mom. Stick a bar of soap in my mouth because I'm that mom and didn't even know it.

But I'm not that mom. Not the one who selfishly takes her kids to parties so as not to disappoint them or herself. No way. I'm not that mom who exposes the people she loves most to illness so as not to have to break her baby's heart. No way. I'm considerate. Right? Because I'm better than that. Right?

Uh.. no "okayest mom of the year" coffee mug for you this year. 

Turns out I'm that mom. I'm not as good as I thought I was. But don't feel too bad for me. I'm not so sure any of us are as good as we think we are.

My boss has been taking over with a lot of the duties at his home as his wife is very pregnant and mainly on bed rest. We were talking on the phone and he told me he just isn't as good as he thought he was. My response, obviously, was "none of us are." He told me that was encouraging. I think he was being sarcastic. I wouldn't blame him for that. But I meant it as an encouragement. Sure, he's not as good as he thought he was. I can almost guarantee you that he's better than he thinks he is.

It's a major award! The words I say are encouraging! If I keep saying it that makes it true, right?

Just like my boss is probably a much better husband, dad, business owner, servant, etc than he thinks he is I think we are all probably better than we think we are. We just don't see it because we take a little too much time to compare ourselves to others. 

I will never be as thoughtful as my friend Manda. Not for lack of trying; more for a lack of gifting in that area. She just has a knack for those things. I will never be as funny as my brother. Because, well, he's hilarious. I wish you knew him: I still crack up about things he said decades years ago. I will never be as generous as my friend Z. I will never be as beautiful as Paige. I will never be as insightful as Elaine. I will never be as bold as Natalie. I will never be as anything as anyone. I make a very poor copy; but I do make a great heidiva. (My blog, my rules, I get to pick my own name thankyouverymuch!)

There. It's perfect. 

Maybe I'm not as perfect as I thought I was. Maybe I bring a sick kid to Christmas and make almost EVERY single person there sick; including me, my husband, and my little Larry. Or maybe it was the ham. I blame the ham. I can still hardly stand the look of ham. Anyways. I may not be as great as I thought I was, not as perfect, not as considerate.. But once I stop trying to rank myself against other moms or people in general it turns out I flourish. I may not be as gentle in my mannerisms. Maybe I'm not a helicopter mom. But I certainly make my kids laugh with my humor. I try to be quick to admit my mistakes and ask forgiveness. I let them see the imperfections and strive to allow Jesus to make the most of me. 

It's okay if I look like a pink nightmare. It won't last forever.

Come close to God, and God will come close to you.

James 4:8 NLT

One last thought. When I taught the youth at our previous church I had a lesson called "Close to Perfect." It wasn't about being perfect or popular or good: it was about getting close to the One who is perfect and good. It was about dropping the facade of having it all together and just getting close to Jesus and allowing him to take the pieces of our lives and make them something beautiful. We don't have to try so hard and be perfect all by ourselves. We've got Jesus to lead us and direct us and correct us. It's okay to make mistakes: it means you're living. It's okay to be corrected: just adjust your steps. It's okay to not be like anybody else. Just be you. Even if you somehow find yourself being that mom. Turns out my kids and husband and friends like that mom and heidiva.

Right? Right.

Princess and the Potty

I almost feel guilty for the title of this post. Almost. Mostly because it isn't about the mini diva going potty like some may think. Partly because you'll just have to read the post through to see how the title fits.

If you know me personally you may know that I love to laugh. And even more than that I lurve to make other people laugh. And I love to encourage people and make them believe the best about themselves. Not because it's convenient but because it's true. But that's not today's topic. 

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17 NIV

Today I want to talk about laughter. I come from a long line of funny people. Mostly unintentionally funny; but still funny. I look at it as a gift, a good and perfect gift that works to the benefit of myself and those around me. A gift that I've been given to enjoy and use. The following are a few examples of how I came to be the lady.scholar.heidiva. I claim to be. 

Example #1

My mother. When she's funny, she's really funny. My favorite is her senior high school yearbook. The quote that she shared, which she has always denied actually came from her, was: "Men are a joke. I love to laugh." It isn't really the quote that was funny; it is more that a) she claims she didn't understand what it meant and b) she steadfastly denies that she ever said it. If you don't think that's funny, it's okay. Because it cracks me up. 

But.. I don't get it?

Example #2

My maternal grandmother was more of an uncomfortable and sometimes socially inappropriate brand of funny. When my Pop Pop died (which was a terrible blow for both her and I. The rest of the family, too.. but we aren't talking about them.) he was cremated. And delivered to her doorstep in a black tupperware-esque box. She and I managed to find the funny in it and pondered such things as: which of her fine silver spoons should we use to spread the ashes? Do you think they cremated his prosthetic leg? Not to mention the fact that she set the box at my Pop Pop's regular place at the table. You may not find the funny in this.. but I already said it was an uncomfortable sarcastic funny. I miss her sometimes: her humor, her hoarding skills, and how beautiful she was.

I think this channels her kind of humor.

Example #3

My paternal grandmother. More of a slapstick comedienne with jokes such as: "Hey Heidi, you want a rubber check? It'll bounce all over the place!" And let's not forget that she didn't disown me after I told her she reminded me of Pruneface from the classic Madonna film Dick Tracy. (She looked like a movie star to me!) She would call me "Granddaughter Heidi" when I sometimes called her "Grandma Hallie." She could take a joke and would call you out on your slips. She was wry and sarcastic while still being warm. She found the funny in a little kid's innocence. Now that is good stuff.

Grandma Hallie would've liked this kid. 

Example #4 (my favorite!!)

My brother. He is the funniest guy I know. Maybe because he's my big brother and I think nothing he does is wrong and no one can be better than him. Nah. I'm not biased. I credit him with my use of the phrase "butt crack of dawn" and teaching the mini me's to discern whether their poops are "fifty wipers" or "clean sweeps." He can make fun of himself better than you can and he has a keen dry and intelligent wit. Or he can be gross and adolescent and that's good, too. I wish I could give you more examples.. but I am not sure this blog can handle that yet. 

Don't ask. It makes no sense. Knight Rider!

A cheerful heart is good medicine.

Proverbs 17:22 NLT

I've been thinking lately about how I got my sense of humor and love of laughter. As messed up as my family may be and as many poor traits or habits I may have gleaned from them (like grinding my teeth since my first set came in).. I'm grateful that the humor and finding the funny stuck. I'm grateful for the sarcasm that not too many will see the humor in and the simple humor that helps others see how good they really have it. I'm grateful that while I was scrubbing my bathroom this afternoon I did it while wearing a tiara. I'm grateful for a husband who laughs at my jokes or at the very least shrugs and replies with a simple, "bless your little heart." And I'm so so grateful for my kids who get my sense of humor and find me funny (though I'm not sure whether I should be pleased or alarmed). But most of all, I'm so thankful for a great big God who saw it fit to help me find the humor in tragedy and triumph and all the in betweens. What a good God to use what is sometimes my downfall and turn it for good. 

And we know that God causes everything to work for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.

Romans 8:28 NLT

What is something God has used for your good that may not have always been obvious to you?

I thought that I was being original! Look at the shine on her throne. 

Writing's on the Wall

When I was little I used to color on my mom's freshly painted walls with magic markers. While looking her in the eyes and with the marker behind my back I would scribble. Apparently this was in a new house. Off topic, but I also hit my big brother then ran into my room, hid under the covers, waited for him to come after me, then screamed for my mom accusing my brother of hitting me. I had the little sister thing down.

Anyways.. I caught little Larry coloring on the walls and our dehumidifier a few days ago. Normally I say things like, "Why are you working against me?" and "I just cleaned crayon off of thaaaat." Can you tell that last one is more of a whine than anything else? 

This time was different. This time I started thinking of reasons why I am grateful to have writings on my walls. (Yes, walls. Because I do not clean it up as I go and the kid is a crayon/pen/marker ninja.) The following are the reasons I am grateful for writing on my walls:

Reason #1

If I can see the crayon on the walls my walls must be pretty clean. Or else I wouldn't notice, right?

Reason #2

If he keeps finding crayons we must not be poor. I mean, if I have so many crayons that even after I put up a dozen boxes he is still finding them I must be fairly well off. At least in kiddie currency.

Reason #3

My kid is really physically fit. He's agile enough to scale shelves and walls to find unattended writing utensils and strong enough to hold himself up with one arm while grabbing said utensils.

Reason #4

The writings on the wall by my little Larry means I have a little boy. It means that I have my mini Diva (because turquoise Sharpie doesn't come off even with a Magic Eraser and scribble is left over from her wall writing reign). It means that one of my absolute greatest heart's desires was granted. I got to have two little G's that I adore. I could go on and on.. but I think you get the gist. 

Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you your heart’s desires.

Psalm 37:4

Y'all, I prayed for these babies. I had one of them named before I even met my husband. I dreamed about them. Somehow it seemed like I loved them before I knew them. Yet now I so easily take my heart's desire for granted because they mess up my plans. And bathroom. And I'm exhausted. How many other answered prayers go unnoticed by me because they aren't what I thought they would be? Or maybe they don't look the way I thought they would. Or maybe I'm not where I thought I'd be or who I thought I'd be when the desire was granted. My kids are better than I could have dreamed.. but for some reason I dreamed I would have more energy when I had kids. (stop laughing!!)

My little blessings remind me of how much I have to be thankful for in unconventional ways. They remind by waking me up at the butt crack of dawn to "have the snuggles." They remind me of how badly I wanted children with a sense of humor when they make me laugh at inappropriate things. Like little Larry ripping off his diapers and singing in the middle of the kitchen. Or the mini Diva announcing that she is no longer speaking to me, just Daddy. Then reminding me repeatedly until I respond. They remind me of how good I have it even when I don't see it.

They remind me of just how precious baths, sleep, eating, privacy, and attention are by merely existing. They remind me of how much I need the Lord by acting like me. They teach me volumes about love, patience, and forgiveness. One of my favorites things they remind me of is how to just sit back and enjoy beautiful artwork. Even if it is graffiti on my living room walls. 

Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.

1 Thessalonians 5:18

What are the writings on the wall that you are thankful for?

     

Aren't they beautiful? They get it from their momma...