I’m turning 30 this year. In less than two months, actually. It’s not something I’m really dreading, but it’s there. It’s a large, milestone birthday where I can either choose to celebrate or deny that it’s here.

Maybe it’s the looming 30th birthday or this stage of life that has me a little bugged. The stage I’m talking about currently is where life seems to be on hold as we wait for a house to sell. And I’m pushing myself closer and closer to God each day as I try to listen to what He’s telling me.

And there it is. Why is life on hold because of our house? Why aren’t we just living and doing what we want to do?

If the looming 30th birthday should tell me anything at all, it should be that this life moves so quickly.

And the reminder that this world is our temporary home, should remind me to stop wasting time.  The promises of eternity with our Creator are much better than any silly thing I’m worried about here.

So why do I frown at each new little line I see around my eyes each morning when I get out of bed?

Why do I rub those little pillow creases on my cheeks and fret over the recent shift in my teeth? (Now, I give myself a pass on that one since I did wear braces for four years and really don’t want to ever need a reason to do that again.)

I’m laughing as I remember Truvy’s line from Steel Magnolias, “Time marches on and eventually you realize it’s marching across your face.”

But here we are. We’re getting a little bit older each year. Our boys look a little bit older every morning when we first greet them with a chirpy, “Goooood morning” voice.

Our days have reached an “ordinary” place, and I’m actually loving it. I have fewer stories to share these days of fun things we’ve done. And that’s okay!

We’re having fun, but it’s only the kind of fun that your people understand. Our stories are only funny to us. We’re the only ones that get them. We already have inside jokes with our children.

These details of the every day, ordinary events are the ones that stand out to me.

Every day I hold Hudson’s little hand as we walk to the car or inside the school building.

Every day Hayes gets a little bit manic and runs full force through the house right before bed. He screams wildly and loves it!

Every day we all pile up on the couch and wait for Fiona to alert us that Daddy is home for the day. Hayes is always the first one to the door and he immediately starts screaming to greet Todd.

Every morning Hudson sits at the table eating his breakfast, and when his brother comes in, he shouts, “There’s my Hayesy-boy!”

Every night Todd and I alternate which boy we put to bed, and we read the same books over and over again. Our boys react the same way each night to each story. It’s repetitive and it’s beautiful.

Every day at nap time, Hudson begs to watch a movie, and the answer is always no. But sometimes I let him curl up with me on the couch after we put Hayes down for his nap.

I won’t forget these things. They don’t all need a blog post of their own, but they might make their way into the baby book.

Because these are the things that matter to me right now. No drama. Not the typical excitement. I don’t have as much to write about. It’s just every day life as we all get a little bit older.

Bring on 30! We’re going to embrace the ordinary and enjoy just where we are right now.

And instead of wishing days away or waiting for the next big life move to happen, I’m finding myself wanting it to slow down just so my boys are still small enough to both fit on my lap at the same time.

Last week was Hudson’s first week of school. For the most part, he has all new people in his class. There are ten boys (10!!!) and four girls.

Fortunately, I know a few of the moms of the other kids, so there were some familiar faces in his class.

On the first day, Hudson reluctantly went into the classroom and, for the first time ever, held on very tight to my leg when it was time for me to leave. There weren’t any tears, but I could tell he was nervous.

When I picked him up he seemed fine and he was definitely happy to see me. On the way home, I asked him a little about his day. But he never really answered any of my questions. And when I asked him who he played with, he’d just say, “Mommy, stop asking me questions.”

Is this what it’s going to be like to have a son? Do I have to pry all of the information out of him?

The next day went about the same way. He was clingy at drop off, and not really talkative after school. And he didn’t want to talk to Todd about it, either.

Of course, my mind started assuming the worst. I thought, “He hates it. He’s not playing with anyone and he’s sad.”

I can honestly say I’ve never felt anything quite like it before, but as my imagination got the best of me and I assumed the worst, my heart was just tightening in my chest. I was becoming more and more sad for my little boy as I imagined him feeling the things I’ve felt before.

The first day of anything is exciting for some, but it was always scary and intimidating for me. I was never the one to just rush up to a group of people to play. I always hung back and found something I could do alone, and I’d usually just wait for someone to come play with me.

I’m still that way. If I’m in a slightly uncomfortable situation, I’ll just read a book or pull out my phone and read it as a coping mechanism.

The next day at school, I decided to talk to Hudson’s teacher to make sure everything was okay, since I couldn’t really get a word out of him. She assured me that he is having a great time, but, just as I suspected, he’s not the first one to run up to someone. He goes to the toys and starts playing and ends up having plenty of playmates, but isn’t the one to initiate “group play.”

So this made me feel a little bit better. I was able to see pictures on the class website of what they’re doing during the day, and he’s always having a blast.

That day, Hudson got in the car and was extra chatty about who he’d played with and what they’d done that day. He talked about all of his new friends all afternoon.

He just needed a few days to warm up to everyone.

His teacher even told me that Hudson definitely came out of his shell that day. In his class last year, the teachers referred to him as “The Sheriff” because he was always reciting the rules and harping on everyone to clean up and walk in the hallways. Even though he was rarely the rule follower. So when his new teacher told me that he’d come out of his shell, she also told me that “Sheriff Hudson” had made an appearance that day.

I knew that if he was comfortable enough to get bossy, he must really be enjoying himself.

We’ll work on the bossiness at home. I’m just happy that he’s enjoying himself. He no longer seems scared, and I can relax after he gets dropped off, knowing that he’s loving it and he’s making friends.

This whole experience reminded me to begin praying for these current friendships and his future friendships. There is nothing like having hurt feelings. But having a child with hurt feelings is just excruciating. I can’t even imagine how many future situations we’ll sort through with our kids.

I’m thankful that he is adjusting well and enjoying his class. I know I never should have been too worried, but when we are their only advocate and have to speak for them at this age, I want to make sure I am doing everything I can to help him. It’s hard seeing my child become an even more independent kid.

These are the parts of parenting that I wasn’t prepared for.

I’ve got a little bit of a case of writer’s block. Nothing in particular really comes to mind, but I know that I’m having a hard time quieting my mind.

It’s hard to focus on small little events and stories because there just seems to be so much noise around. We’ve got political conventions and constant commentary on social media. It’s the beginning of a school year and trying to make sure nothing is forgotten.

Normally, when I have writer’s block, I’ll just crank out a little brain dump and list a few self-depricating things and toss in a little bit of mom snark and… there’s a blog post. Ta-da!

But this has been convicting me lately. I know, for a fact, that a couple of those little “mom snark” posts have hurt people. While that is never my intention, I can say that it is true that I wasn’t even thinking about the possibility of hurting someone. I wasn’t considering others at all.

It’s probably someone who just pops by my blog every so often and doesn’t know me all that well, but it still happens.

A few weeks ago, our pastor spoke from James 3, and taming the tongue. And when he also talked about “taming the tweet” and “taming the blog post” or “taming the Facebook update,” I was frozen.

How many times do I just throw words out there like they don’t matter? Just throwing words out there to have something to say, so people can hear me?

He spoke about how each word should be carefully considered because, written or spoken, our words are lasting. They leave an impression on everyone who hears them or reads them.

And if I write a blog post to joke about the “adventures in motherhood,” I know that my words don’t come from a mean-spirited place. But that doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt someone who is reading it who desperately longs to be a mother.

I’ve been so convicted by his message, and still find myself just spewing words out there that could be hurtful. And, I know, I’m human. We all struggle with this. With the political comments, the mommy wars, and even SEC football, there’s always something or someone to critique.

But the constant “noise” of social media– having the access to hundreds, thousands of voices at one time through various outlets and apps– is not only noisy, but can be destructive.

I want my words to give life and encouragement. I don’t want to unintentionally hurt. Goodness, I don’t want to intentionally hurt either.

So this is something I’m working on. I have to constantly remind myself to watch it. To step back and think before I speak or write.

Is this something you struggle with, too?

James 3:9-12

9 With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. 10 Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. 11 Can both fresh water and salt water flow from the same spring? 12 My brothers and sisters, can a fig tree bear olives, or a grapevine bear figs? Neither can a salt spring produce fresh water.

 

*If anyone is interested in hearing the sermon I mentioned, just click here where you can watch or listen.