Stuff to Do

This arrogance of mine, which says "I can be all things to all people all the time and do it all perfectly".  I'm calling myself out, starting today. Dear Sarah,  You are so lovely. You have a huge heart, and many good intentions. You can't possibly be all the things to all the people all the time and do it perfectly. And before you say "But..." let's take a second and be honest. Because if you can't be honest in a conversation with yourself, then when can you be?  You want to support your husband as he pursues his degree. Very noble of you, indeed. But how can you do that if you fall ill because you don't take care of yourself?  Your children? What would they do if you were suddenly very ill?  Yes, your family would cope. Eventually. A new normal would arise, and life would go on.  But wouldn't it be far better to avoid that whole scenario? Of course it would! So. Where does that leave you? Here is what I'

I long to lose weight, yet I'm afraid of being at a healthy weight. The last time I was at a healthy weight, I was blissfully unaware of my weight. Then college happened, and a series of stressful life events, then a job at McDonald's, then some time in the Navy, which seriously messed with my perceptions of food and body image. Then I met my husband, and though it was a happy time, I let my weight spiral out of control. Then we got married, and between pregnancy, miscarriage, moving interstate and overseas, more pregnancies, buying a house, I've let myself go.  The thing is, I'm happy in myself. I'm confident in how I look - until I see myself in the mirror. My husband finds me attractive. I am proud of all that my body has done. It has grown and birthed four children in five years. It has carried, snuggled, and rocked those children. It has nourished those children. I wear my stretch marks, my soft squishy bits - with a nod of respect.  I'm not heal

"You're not pretty enough." "You're not tidy enough." "Your house isn't decorated enough." "Your kids aren't well-behaved enough." You. Are. Not. Enough. It's easy, in this season of life I happen to be in, to feel like I am not enough. I am pulled, tugged, stretched in a hundred directions, feeling the need to be all things to all people 27 hours a day. And I know I've got limits - it hasn't escaped my notice that if I spend the day doing laundry, then the kids don't get much attention. If I spend the day doing fun stuff with the kids, then there are no clean plates. If I somehow manage to balance motherhood and housework, then I neglect my own needs. Or my marriage. It's all about getting that balance in order, and maintaining it. Simple, right? Not so much. I commented to my husband last night that I was ignoring the mess for a bit because I just wanted a portion of my day to not be completely ab

A few years ago, I was watching my friend at church (who has four boys), and she just seemed so...together. I mean, she was dressed nicely, didn't look exhausted, and was even volunteering to do stuff. She was running the play group, leading Bible studies, and I was so the opposite. I constantly looked at her, and wondered what my problem was, why couldn't I have my act together?  Fast forward a few years. About six months ago, I was at church practicing music, while my kidlets were sitting in the pew colouring in, and a new-ish friend came in for the service. We smiled and waved, and then church started. Afterwards, she said to me "I don't know how you do it - you've got FOUR kids, and you're up there singing, and they're just sitting there, colouring. She expressed her admiration, and I probably blushed, and mumbled thanks. I went home though, and it stuck with me. And all of a sudden, I remembered this conversation I had with my friend (the first one)

I am under a lot of stress, often. In fact, I have to actually shut down and ignore certain things, things which I really should have strong feelings about. My daughter, who has suffered from severe eczema all her life, is not going well. When she gets sick (as preschoolers tend to do), she experiences an eczema flare like you've never seen. What's stressful about this particular episode is that we only just completed treatment for a skin infection, and it was UNDER CONTROL  for perhaps the first time in over a year. All the healing we achieved, all the rigid medication - gone, because of one stupid virus. So I sit here and listen to the child scratch, scratch, scratch - I can almost smell the blood she's drawn. I know by the sound of her breathing whether or not she's scratching. It's worse if I restrain her, by far. Plus, the screaming. It feels like something is touching my brain, and not in a good way. I know we'll get to a happy place again with her skin, s

Time.  Specifically, the management of it. It's never been a strength of mine - nor has organisation. Lately though, I find that both of those things are crucial for me.  I've actually created a workspace for myself, and it's a daily struggle to keep the children from invading it in their search for pens, pencils, art supplies, paper. My post-it notes are particularly popular. I find them everywhere! It's a bit of a gamble, with two of the children so young. It does require me to repeat "That's MUMMY's desk" a fair bit. I know this because my youngest (2 1/2) repeats it. Not that he stops touching my things, but he repeats it.  With one child in Year Two, one in Kindergarten, one in preschool, and a few new activities/commitments on the horizon, organisation and time management are a vital part of keeping everyone on track. The slow cooker is about to get a workout and a half, and planning ahead is essential. I've got whiteboards, pin boar