Choosing to Bloom

"Bloom Where You Are Planted." I"m pretty sure I saw that needle-pointed on a pillow somewhere...or maybe sketched in bright happy colors by Mary Englebright? Regardless, it's become my mantra lately as I've had a nasty, embarrassing case of the "envies" lately, and I'm trying really hard to get rid of it. Contentment does not come naturally or easily for me. Perhaps it's what makes me creative and driven, but it also prevents me from feeling present and happy and grateful much of the time. I don't like that about myself, and I'm trying to change it.

My brain has been ridiculously preoccupied lately with creating the "perfect" home for my family. You know: three bedroom, two bathroom house on a quiet, tree-lined street with just enough land for a big garden and some room for the kids to run. Playroom. Lots of windows to let in the natural light. A table big enough to host a holiday meal. Vintage/farmhouse decor with just enough modern flair thrown in to make my husband feel like his taste is reflected, too. Good school district. Walkability to parks, groceries, coffee shops, a library. Friendly neighbors.

I've spent a lot of time creating this "perfect" home in my mind and imagining all the ways it would benefit my family. My kids would sleep better if they had their own rooms. I would sleep better if there wasn't so much road noise. We could grow so much more food and save more food if we had more land. The list goes on and on. And then I start to get even more myopic and think things like, "I'm 33 and I've never picked out my own couch." "I would feel so much less anxiety if I saw actual trees out my front window instead of power lines and a busy street." "

It's embarrassing. I can't believe I'm admitting all of this.

Someday, I really do hope to have a home on a quiet(er) street with a few more trees and a bit more land. My girl and my boy will eventually need separate rooms, and I sure hope I get to pick out my own couch before I'm 40. But all of that isn't going to create unity and warmth and tenderness in my family. It's not going to teach my children about Jesus or how to be kind to others or foster their creativity. This is their home whether there is the perfect vintage/farmhouse/modern decor or not, and maybe spending the first waking minutes of each day giggling with your only sibling is more valuable in the long run than getting the best possible night's sleep.

The thing is: we are solidly planted in our little home here in North Portland. The economy being what it is, we cannot sell our home anytime in the near future. But lately, I have started to feel this not as a claustrophobic limitation but as a blessing. I know that neighbor Kristin opens her curtains every morning just as insanely early as I do. Neighbor Chuck picks up lattes every single morning, and his girlfriend Cynthia watered my tomatoes last year when I was too exhausted to remember to do it myself. Nolan (4) and Madeline (2) live to the right of us and Lavi (5) and Mayim (2) live to the left of us. Pam across the street put out a second lit angel at Christmas because Maddie told her how much she liked the original one. We borrow and lend tools regularly with neighbor Shane and neighbor Aaron. I've given a few hand-me-down baby things (and some Christmas sticky buns) to the very young couple across the street with their first baby. This kind of familiarity takes time to build, and I now see that the possibilities for service and friendship here in our little patch of Portland are unlimited.

Furthermore, the park behind our house (which is already pretty great) is getting a massive makeover this spring/summer to make it an inclusive space for children of all abilities. The elementary school behind the park is one of the few in our public school district that is actually thriving. My sister and her husband are house-hunting in our neighborhood, and -- icing on the cake -- we just learned that our beloved church, Mosaic, is launching Mosaic North Portland sometime in the near future.

Deep, lovely, nutrient seeking roots, and I can't wait to experience the garden full of blooms they will surely produce...

Truth

We were up at 5:15 both Saturday and Sunday morning this past weekend. Actually, we've been up around that time every morning for the last week or two, but Saturday morning felt particularly rough because Kurt and I evidently forgot we had children Friday night and had a mini Friday Night Lights marathon until 11:30. I know. Not smart, but those of you who have ever watched that show totally get why we just couldn't stop watching...Tim Riggins, you long haired, cowboy boot wearing, sexy drawling bad boy gone good...(that might not be the reason Kurt likes the show...or maybe it is).

Henry is the cutest little boy my eyes have ever seen, and I could expound in minute detail about all the little adorable things he does (the most recent being carrying his blanket around -- Linus style -- everywhere he goes, often in his mouth like a little puppy dog). But our darling boy, at nearly 13 months old, has yet to sleep through the night. He has made it the whole night a handful of times since he was about 7 months old, but globally speaking, he is still not sleeping through the night. I know he's not hungry because even when I offer, he eats for 3 minutes, gets distracted, and then lays awake chatting or crying for the rest of what's left of the night. I think his body is just so used to waking up in the middle of the night that it's going to take awhile for it to learn otherwise. We are helping him learn the valuable skill of sleeping by not giving him any stimuli or attention until 6:30 at the earliest when it's acceptable for him to wake up. But we all toss and turn and lay awake listening to him fuss and cry, watching our clocks count down one sleepless minute after another.

My brain gets this and accepts that this is simply the stage we are in right now. It's a season, and we are certainly in good, sleep deprived company.

But in the spirit of showing a little "behind the scenes" footage and not always the "highlights" reel, there are moments when I really don't like being a parent. I know we're not supposed to ever say that, and hopefully someday when my children read these posts they will feel secure enough in my love for them that they understand it's not even remotely about them. Actually, if anything should prove how much a parent loves their child, isn't it sticking with it even when you're on your ninth day of less than 5 hours of sleep, your kids have whined and complained all day, and you can't even poop in peace? Let me tell you: if I didn't bonkers love my kids, Kurt and I would've high-tailed it to Hawaii a long time ago.

If you choose to do parenting well, you sacrifice so, so much. Time is no longer remotely your own; your bank account takes a hit worthy of the Richter scale; you expend energy in ways and amounts that make your bones ache with exhaustion; often, you put your own personal dreams and aspirations on hold; etc. etc. etc. It is not fun to change poopy diapers, especially during winter when your kid gets no fewer than six gastrointestinal viruses. It is not fun to negotiate with a preschooler who always (ALWAYS) chooses option "C" when only options "A and B" have been offered. It is not fun to wake up at 5:15 every morning and never feel sufficiently rested.

This has been a particularly challenging parenting week for me for all of the above reasons and a few more that I won't go into. I'm tired. I'm grouchy. I'm histrionic. Typically, I would tell myself that I'll feel better in the morning after a good night's rest. But that's the catch 22 -- I'm not getting any rest, so things just seem a little bit worse each day.

Sigh.

Kids are worth it. I know this. And hopefully you know me well enough to know that I know this.

But I think we should be allowed to be honest with ourselves and with each other every now and then that this whole parenting thing is hard, hard work that sometimes doesn't feel very gratifying.

So I think the only thing to say at this point is "THANK YOU" Mom and Dad for choosing to do parenting well and sticking with it even through these kinds of weeks. I had no idea...I just had no idea!