When an Insomniac Loves a Narcoleptic

On Monday, Henry woke up at 3 a.m., sobbing, so I went to his room to calm him down and "asked" Ty to run down to the kitchen and warm up a cup of milk for him. I hoped that with some efficient teamwork we could get our little night owl right back to bed and avoid yet another too-early wake up call.

I started reading "Dragons Love Tacos" to sweet, sniffling Henry, finished it, and then read it again. I heard the microwave door slam downstairs but 5 more minutes passed and my husband still had not arrived with warm milk. Henry snuggled up and pleaded "more, mamma!" so I opened the book and read it again, starting to worry about Ty. 

As I turned the last page my husband appeared, eyes half-shut, wobbling at the top of the stairs. He carried no warm milk, but instead, a wooden bowl. 

"Ty" I rushed over to him, "are you ok?! Where's Hank's milk?"

He blinked a long blink and handed me the bowl. It was filled to the brim with what looked like half melted ice cubes and water. "I don't know what you wanted." He said. "I brought you this." 

Our working theory is that he put a wooden bowl of ice in the microwave. 

In the words of Jim Gaffigan, "Thaaaaanks hoooooney."

One morning, early in our marriage, Ty's phone alarm kept going off but he was dead to the world. I super sweetly grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Honey! Your alarm has literally been going off for 10 minutes. GET. UP."

"Wha? Huh?! Kay."

He shut off his alarm, slowly climbed out of bed, and walked across the room to our dresser. He opened a middle drawer, leaned over, and started whispering into it. 

New to his unique sleep habits, this was super creepy to me. 

"Ty! What are you doing?"

He ignored me and continued speaking in hushed tones to his undershirts. After another riveting minute he closed the drawer, walked back to our bed, and cuddled up like nothing had happened.

"Ty!! Wake up!" I put my hand on his cheek "Hello!"

He opened his eyes, slightly, and smiled. "Hello."

"What were you doing over there by the dresser?"

He closed his eyes and smiled again. "Tiger Woods is in our drawer. He gave me all of the secrets to golf. All of them." He rolled over and went back to sleep.

   sweet, sleepy loves

•••

It is currently 3:47 a.m. and I have been awake for the last 2 hours, not because of our children but just thanks to some good old pregnancy induced discomfort/insomnia. The worst kind of awake to be, in my opinion. And yet, as I type on my phone and giggle about what a weirdo my husband is at night, I can't help but feel overwhelmingly grateful for my sweet, funny little family and even for our sleepless nights.

Don't get me wrong, becoming a parent has made me a firm believer that sleep deprivation is a form of slow and painful torture. Moms who can slam some coffee, put on makeup, and happily function on 3 hours of sleep are like strange, beautiful unicorns to me. When I get 3 hours of sleep I feel like I spend the day trudging through thick mud, and I definitely don't look cute doing it. 

Everyone says we are going to miss this and while the sentiment can sound a bit like nails on a chalkboard when I am walking around with mascara smudged under my eyes like some sort of deranged zombie-mom... "surviving not thriving," as they say... I know their words are true. 

I already miss it, in a way. Even when the days are long, the months go by so fast. I blink and Violet has stopped calling smoothies "mooshies." Henry is helping himself to a cup of water (preferably from the fridge)... time is flying faster than it ever has before.

This morning I'm thankful for the hard stuff because I am reminded that it so very often comes hand in hand with the best stuff.

Now, to make some coffee and start my day. This sleep thing is for the birds (and Tyler). 

kb

To Know + To Love

Years ago I asked a friend what their thoughts were on what the Bible calls "Faith like a child." We've all seen so much by the time we exit childhood, and especially into adulthood. Not one of us comes through scot-free. Death, failure, divorce, war, famine, cancer, job-loss, love-loss, miscarriage, depression, abuse, addiction... How is it that we could possibly "become like little children" after all that we've been through and all that we've seen?

My friend responded and said that to tell people to have child-like faith is a slippery slope. He said that it promotes ignorance and immaturity within the church to instruct people to blindly follow and never ask questions.

I thought about this a lot, at the time, and in the moment wasn't sure how to confidently counter that statement. I knew Christ wouldn't say something as bold as “unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven,” if it wasn’t true.

Almost 10 years passed with that question invading my mind again and again. Obviously when Christ talks about "faith like a child," He isn't likening it to some sort of spiritual immaturity or carelessness. He isn’t saying “be child-ISH.” So what DOES He mean?

Last week I started re-reading a book my grandfather wrote called "The Immortal I: Restoring the Sovereignty of the Soul.” In it, he talks about loving and knowing--unique faculties of the soul--and how these are modeled in the life of a child. I flipped through his book, excitedly, as the answer to my question began to materialize in a new and beautiful way.

TO KNOW

“Um mommy, how is that baby going to get out of your tummy?” Every. Single. Night. “You know Violet,” I say for the 27th time, “God has a special way that He helps mommies have babies when they are ready. I’ll go to the doctor and daddy will be there too... and when we come home you will have a little baby brother or sister! Isn’t that amazing?!”

“Well, yeah.” Violet wrinkles her forehead. “But HOW does the baby get OUT?”

Umm….

“Why is the sky gray today? Why are my feet stinky? Why does daddy make eggs better than you do? Who made the park? Who made the trees? Why are there bad guys? Why did Henry pee on my floor? How do I make a house out of play-doh? How do I make a castle out of play-doh? Is heaven bigger than a castle? Why doesn’t my play-doh taste good? Is God bigger than the BIGGEST WHALE IN THE WHOLE OCEAN?” And 'round and 'round we go on the merry-go-round that is questions asked by a 3 year old.

Contrary to the assertation that a child is somehow blissfully ignorant, anyone who spends 5 minutes around a young child quickly finds a tiny person that is hungry for knowledge and delights in gaining understanding.

TO LOVE

As I write this afternoon I can hear Violet singing a made up melody to herself in the next room:

"I love mommy and mommy loves me. I love daddy. Daddy loves me. I love my fam-i-ly. Henry loves me and I love my brother Heeenry. We are a family and we loooo-oooo-oove each other..."

Children delight in the gift that is the ability to love and be loved. With no agenda (usually) they dole out kisses and praises and gratitude and adoration because they know the infinite pleasure of the self-less love that God created us for. And while they are surely not perfect, a 3 or 4 year old hasn't been tainted by a hunger for

money or power or wordy accolades… the gifts of loving and being loved, in and of themselves, are new and beautiful miracles to a child.

“Airplane! Airplane! Airplane!” Henry cries, pointing wildly at the sky. He does this when we drive, he does this when we walk. He waits by the window on garbage day and stands in silent wonder at the splendor of a garbage truck lifting and dumping bins, over and over. I read him “Corduroy” 20 times in one morning and every time we get to the page with the night watchman he jumps up from my lap and yells “Flashlight! Flashliiiiiight!” Children do not miss the miracles that have become like white noise to us. They see the good that is everywhere with fresh eyes and open hearts.

“Life is not lost by dying. Life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in small uncaring ways.” –Stephen Vincent Benet

Tragically, like any good and perfect gift that has been abused since the fall, we lose sight of the perfection of the Love of God. We begin to twist and taint and hoard love to meet our selfish needs. We can’t see the forest through the trees anymore, forgetting that God’s ways are higher than our ways. We are hurt and broken and blind, fumbling in the darkness to fill our emptiness with a love that we design, a love that is selfish and half-hearted and riddled with contingencies.

FAITH LIKE A CHILD

How many sitcoms or dramatic series have you started watching loathing a main character? Then, by the end of the series, you adore them and even miss their quirks? Great character development in cinema is achieved by showing us the true, multi-faceted nature of imperfect, lovable people. We are only able to LOVE when we truly KNOW (understand). We seek to KNOW when our barriers are down and our hearts are open.

I believe what many brilliant people have said before me (including my grandpa Gene-Hey grandpa!), that this only happens in a deep, transformational way when we seek to know and love a perfect God who already knows and loves us. Christ’s words about entering the Kingdom of Heaven are not about exclusion. They are about giving us exactly what we’ve been seeking in this life.

If we knock, the door will be opened. THAT is what Christ means when he talks about “faith like a child.” And THAT is Good News.

kb    

   

Author’s Note: For more on “The Immortal I” by Eugene B. Shea: http://www.theimmortali.com/

Perfect Love

"Our whole business in this world is to restore to health the eye of the heart whereby God may be seen."

-St. Augustine

I don't usually set New Years resolutions (per a somewhat depressing track record), but this year in our small group we were encouraged to set a goal for our spiritual walk. I knew right away what my goal should be. It nagged at me every day. "Wake up before your kids do each morning and spend time in the presence of God." 

As far as goals go, this one is pretty benign, right? I just set my alarm for 5:30 a.m., get up, make some coffee, and start my day from a place of peace instead of chaos. Sounds heavenly really.

But here we are, a month into my goal setting, and this has happened exactly once. Kind of... That day I hit snooze until 6 a.m. and the kids woke up 5 minutes into my quiet time. Another day I woke up early with the best intentions but started putting dishes away and got distracted with chores until I realized it was light outside and Henry was screaming "Mammaaaa! Hungry!!!" from his crib. 

Since that time, he has learned to safely climb out of his bed on his own which, as you can imagine, has set off a whole new chain of interesting and wonderful challenges in our household. This morning, for example, he woke up at 3:30 a.m., bright eyed and bushy tailed, screaming that he wanted to "GO PLAY!! PLAAAAAAY!" 

Of course. Why wouldn't you wake up at 3:30 a.m. thinking about Legos? 

It is now 7:15 a.m. and here we all are, still wide awake. Lord help me today. My alarm went off at 5:30 for quiet time but at that point our house had been anything but quiet for the last 2 hours.

This morning I decided I wasn't going to abandon my quiet time all together since I couldn't do it "just so," so while Henry played with trains and Vi watched an episode of The Magic School Bus, I pulled out Jesus Calling and flipped to a few of the dates I had missed this week. February 7 says this:

"Come to me for rest and refreshment. The journey has been too much for you, and you are bone-weary. Do not be ashamed of your exhaustion. Instead, see it as an opportunity for Me to take charge of your life." 

I love that. "Do not be ashamed of your exhaustion." Isn't shame what is holding so many of us back every single day? I'll speak for myself.. I fear failure, I fear others seeing my weaknesses... Gosh, I fear people knowing how much I am controlled by my fears! 

I forget, in my frenzy to get things "perfect", that God does not dole out love and acceptance the way the world does. His love is free and abundant and endless, and not based on my striving... or my failing. It just IS. 

I know that word perfectionism is often over-used, worn like a badge of honor. But if I've learned anything in 29 years of obsessively trying to get things right it's that (worldly) perfectionism is anything but honorable. In the end, no matter how layered or veiled it is behind good deeds and good habits, perfectionism is about prioritizing self-image above everything else. It is selfish. It's an addiction and while it may feel good for awhile, might even offer some great highs... it is ultimately crippling and will always leave you wanting. 

I would argue that we all struggle with perfectionism, in our own unique way/s. We have each grown to place value on different things and therefore each have different requirements for our ideal self-image to remain intact. Some "perfectionists" have more classic traits, but not one of us is fighting an easy battle. 

We cope with it differently. Some quit before they can fail, some obsess until they get it right, some mask feelings of inadequacy with other addictions. 

What starting my day meditating on God has done for me in seasons where I have been more disciplined is shut off my autopilot. It resets my mind to seek a different kind of Perfection. It is not a worldly perfection driven by pride, or shame. It is the ultimate Perfection that we were created for, which is to love and know God, and to love and know his children.

I'm not saying we shouldn't strive to be great at things. We've all been given unique and wonderful talents which we absolutely should utilize and multiply! As with just about everything in life, it all goes back to the motive. 

If we aren't ever quiet, if we don't ever listen... how will we ever truly know our own hearts?

This year my only resolution is to make space every day to be silent and to listen to God. If you aren't doing this already, I would love for you to join me in this journey!

Happy Valentines Day! You are Loved!

kb

*Author's note: The morning after I wrote a draft of this post, I had my first successful quiet time in a long time. When the kids woke up, a copy of Jesus Calling was still on the sofa. Violet brought it to me, opened to June 5, and asked me to read that page. Here is what it said:

"Remember that you live in a fallen world: an abnormal world tainted by sin. Much frustration and failure result from your seeking perfection in this life. There is nothing perfect in this world except Me. That is why closeness with Me satisfies deep yearnings and fills you with Joy.

I have planted longing for perfection in every human heart. This is a good desire, which I alone can fulfill. But most people seek fulfillment in other people and earthly pleasures or achievements. Thus they create idols, before which they bow down. (...) Make Me the deepest desire of your heart. Let Me fulfill your yearning for perfection. 

Sweet little Valentines

Gratitude, Game Changers, + The Boy Who Dumps Everything

Monday 6:52 a.m. 

Henry wants to help me make coffee this morning. I let him press the buttons on the Keurig and hold him as we wait. He pushes his warm, velvety cheek up against mine and is perfectly still while the coffee maker hums. 

The smell of hazelnut fills our nostrils and steam swirls lazily out of my coffee cup. "Woooow" he whispers softly, his eyes wide, as if coffee brewing is the most wonderful and miraculous thing he's ever seen.

"My feelings exactly Henry. My feelings exactly." 

Monday 7:40 a.m.

Lately I've realized that I can send the kids to play in the basement playroom together, unsupervised, for small chunks of time. This is a game changer because for the last 3 1/2 years I've had to have eyes on at least one of them pretty much every waking moment. (And in the brief moments I haven't, as you've read, destruction has been swift and certain.)

So now, on mornings when we are at home, I make the kids breakfast and then send them down to the playroom for a bit. In the 5-15 minutes (usually 30 seconds) that they play together happily, I sip coffee, clean up, write, read, flip on the food network.. It's a serious luxury and in these moments I think that maybe adding a third to the mix isn't going to be so tough! (Moms of 3+, I can HEAR you collectively LOL-ing as you sip your ice cold coffee... just let me have this one ok?!)

My secret to success in this time has been telling Violet that she's the babysitter and needs to let me know if Henry gets into mischief. (Mostly because I love the way she says the word "mischief.") 

Today, I send the kids downstairs to play while I clean up the kitchen after  breakfast. "Ok mamma!" Shouts Violet gleefully. "Don't worry." She puts her thumb to her chest, "I'LL let you know if Henry gets into mischief!" 

As I vacuum the last few crumbs off of the kitchen floor and the microwave beeps with my reheated coffee, I hear Violet shout from the basement "Mommy! Mommy! Henry just got into THE BIGGEST MISCHIEF EVER."

Bye bye, sweet, hot, coffee. Maybe we will meet again when these crazies go to college.

Monday 9 a.m.

The challenging side of having a 2 year old with the body of a ninja and the mind of an engineer is that he can pretty much get to and open/disassemble whatever he wants in under a minute. 

The bright side is that he's crazy observant. 

This morning Hank wanted to help me put away the dishes. I was hesitant, because as much as my life can (and does) get chaotic and messy and disorganized, I have always functioned better in order. If my kitchen cabinets don't look like this:

I start to feel a little bit like the whole system is imploding. (Tyler can attest to how often I talk about this "system." He totally loves it.) 

I watch Hank as he grabs a cutting board, walks it over to the proper cabinet, and slides it in sideways, next to the other cutting boards. I wait as he goes back for the ladle and puts it in the drawer with the large utensils, then grabs a tiny whisk and puts it in the drawer with the small utensils. "More please mamma!" He looks at me, waiting to see if he can continue.

...By all means son, PROCEED!

He pulls out the kids' plastic plates and heads to the pantry. He stacks them the way I do, with the large plates on the bottom, the medium plates in the middle, and the bowls on top.

Game changer. 

Later in the afternoon, I ask him to start cleaning up his blocks before nap time and he does this...

...so clearly I'm not raising a child prodigy over here. But still, game changer. 

Monday 5:03 p.m.

If you ever happen to call yourself "zen" in a blog post, you'd better be prepared for something like this to happen (again), causing you to question if your life is actually the movie Groundhog Day and if it's time to purchase a wet vac so you can stop lugging one to and from The Home Depot every 2 days:

   

The kids are not in the picture because this time they knew they'd better RUN.

Shout out to my sweet husband who--with full knowledge that he would be the one retrieving and operating the wet vac for the next 2 hours--returned home from work, caught sight of the detergent crime scene, and hugged me. "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry" he said. "I'll head to Home Depot"

Dear Lord, give me this man's patience. 

And may we all have the patience of Tyler Barnett this week.

kb