One Needy Momma

I don't know if you are like me, but I am one busy momma. While trying to raise three boys, I am also trying to be a good wife, teacher, businesswoman, friend, daughter, granddaughter, church member......the list goes on and on. I daily catch myself failing at one of these roles in my life. I try and try, but my trying never gets me very far.

This morning I was feeling like I was failing at being a good Christian. You guys know me. I am going to be honest to a fault. And here is my truth bomb for the day. I am TERRIBLE at daily Bible time. No matter what I do to try and make myself more successful--the set-up, the studies, the timing--I find myself always falling apart about 7-14 days in. All of a sudden I wake up to realize it's been three days since I have settled down to a study. This was one of those mornings.

But He is always on time and on target. I recently started using an app called "She Reads Truth." It's pretty interesting so far (the 5 days I have kept up with it). The first study I chose was called Hymns. I LOVE old hymns. They bring me back to my salvation days and often will speak to my heart in ways no new contemporary songs can. I enjoyed each of the studies, but today's spoke to me in a way that was on a personal, humbling level.

So there is this hymn called I Need Thee Every Hour. I have heard it a million times growing up in church. Honestly, never thought much through the lyrics or what it was about. But this study changed all of that in a couple of paragraphs. The author of the study, Amanda Williams, went through the study talking about her struggles while raising her toddler daughter. She talked about feeling like a failure. Of course, this hit a soft spot in me because.....wait, you read the first paragraph right? Anyway, she talked about how this song really hit home for her. She was a needy momma. She needed help in every aspect. The song goes like this--

1. 1. I need thee ev’ry hour,
   Most gracious Lord.
   No tender voice like thine
   Can peace afford.
2. I need thee, oh, I need thee;
   Ev’ry hour I need thee!
   Oh, bless me now, my Savior;
   I come to thee!
3. 2. I need thee ev’ry hour;
   Stay thou nearby.
   Temptations lose their pow’r
   When thou art nigh.
4. Chorus
5. 3. I need thee ev’ry hour,
   In joy or pain.
   Come quickly and abide,
   Or life is vain.
6. Chorus
7. 4. I need thee ev’ry hour,
   Most holy One.
   Oh, make me thine indeed,
   Thou blessed Son!
8. Chorus
9. Text: Annie S. Hawks, 1835–1918
   Music: Robert Lowry, 1826–1899

For those of you who don't know (heavens knows I had no clue), Annie Hawks was just a mom, writing poetry, keeping up with her three kids in the 1800's. I stopped for a second and was like, hmmmmmmm.......an artist mom, raising three kids. I automatically felt a kinship with this woman I had never met or even heard of. Some days I feel like an artist and I am definitely raising three kids. Okay, so how much further did these similarities go? I popped out the good ole Google search and dug deeper. Checking into the always accurate and helpful Wikipedia, it told me about this woman was born on May 28th, 1836. HOLD UP. That is my birthday. MY BIRTHDAY YA'LL! We were born on the exact same day. I was like, "Okay God, what are you trying to tell me in all of this?" Here we go...an artist mom of three kids, married, born on the same day. Then I started to think about the time in which she was born. Think about it guys, she is living during the Civil War time period. Probably raising her kids during this turbulent craziness. I feel like I am raising my kids in a crazy and turbulent time as well.

WE LOOK PRETTY SIMILAR RIGHT? 

Then I reread the hymn she wrote with fresh eyes. How many times have I been in the middle of a havoc-filled day and thought, "Lord, I am going to need you every second of these next few hours!!" It's a mom's thoughts....let's be honest. That crying infant, the whining toddler, the silent tweenager, the absent teenager, the frustrated hubby......it's all pushed us to the needy point. This song made me realize I am a needy mom. I NEED Him every hour, every second, every breath. And I am okay with being needy. Because let me tell you, I can't do this on my own. "In joy or pain, come quickly and abide" should be my hearts cry as a mother. Think about the ups and downs just in a few hours! The cuddles, then the screams! A mother can go from joy to pain in 0.3 seconds! 

In my research on this wonderful poet, I realized she had one thing on me. She wrote this song that I feel like I would have written in a time of frustration, in a time of joy in her life. She says, "One day as a young wife and mother of 37 years of age (WHOA---I am 38! Just another comparison....), I was busy with my regular household tasks (ummmmm that is me right now....work, work, work, work, work--I know you just sang that popular song in your head too). Suddenly, I became so filled with the sense of nearness to the Master that, wondering how one could live without Him, either in joy or pain, these words, 'I need thee every hour,' were ushered into my mind, the thought at once taking full possession of me." (Quoted from cyberhymnal.org) Lord, I NEED that to hit me. I want to get that sense of nearness....even when I am struggling over one of our 9 million loads of laundry!

She goes on to say, "For myself, the hymn was prophetic rather than expressive of my own experiences, for it was wafted out to the world on the wings of love and joy, instead of under the stress of personal sorrow." (Quoted from Wikipedia) She was HAPPY and JOYFUL when these thoughts hit her. Folks, I sadly admit that it's only when I feel needy that these thoughts hit me. When I am joyful, I am not as thankful and as aware of my need. Ouch.....okay, so the comparisons stopped coming right there. When she talks about it being prophetic, she meant the words of the hymn she wrote would hit her later on. She eventually lost her husband and had to live life without him. She points out later on that her words would then soothe her in dealing with the loss of him. 

Listen to me people. I am needy. I need Him every hour.....in joy and in suffering, in gain and in loss. I need to feel His presence when I am sweeping the floors, editing some family photos, or wiping a butt. I need to know that He's going to get me through a day where I have to begrudgingly go to the doctor for myself, celebrate with family, and finish all the editing on my plate. I am needy......and that's okay. 

She gets it from her momma

I always think it is amazing when Mother's Day or Father's Day comes around and suddenly, social media is lit up with positive, uplifting posts about parents. It makes me smile to see the old photos, the heartwarming stories, and the love that is just pouring out of folks. Typically, social media is crushed with negativity and scapegoating.

As for me, I kind of fell silent this Mother's Day on social media. I wanted to soak in everything that was being said about parents. I wasn't mad at my mom, mother-in-law, grandma or aunt. I don't love them any less that day just because I enjoyed everyone's posts and waited to write something up of my own. (But you would be surprised how many people notice you didn't write something. Maybe I post too much! HAHA) However, I can't let the time pass without sharing with you about the woman who made me who I am.

I'll be totally straight up with you. I may have been a good kid growing up, but I know for my mom, I wasn't the easiest daughter to raise. Probably from day one, my mom and I were different from each other. I can almost guarantee you, I wasn't the little girl she probably had dreamed about having from the time she discovered she wanted to be a mom. I was rough, tumble, and loud. (I'm pretty much still all those things.) I didn't like dresses, having my hair fixed, or being without my basketball. Now, that's not to say I didn't like girl things. I carried around a Cabbage Patch doll, and I had some barbies and a few My Little Ponies that ran around with Rainbow Brite. Yet, I was drawn to GI Joes, Thundercats, and Voltron. I can only imagine what she thought as she watched my GI Joes riding around on pretty pink and white ponies with pictures on their rears.

As I got older, the difference in our personalities became more pronounced. However, she immersed herself in my world--basketball. She went to games and learned to do the books and the score board. She has eaten thousands of concession stand dinners, chaperoned too many kids in hotel rooms (where she saw a dead cat under a bed--seriously, an awesome story for another time), and washed far too many sweaty pairs of socks and jerseys. Late nights, fast food meals, and long bus rides were her life from the time I was in 6th grade until I graduated from Piedmont.

How she dealt with a kid that was so different from who she was, is beyond me. Sometimes, as a parent, I talk to the boys and the difference in how we each think blows me away. Of course, it's to be expected because of the gender difference. One would think that with us being women, it would be more similar. It wasn't. I am sure she thought I was insane not just because of my interests, but in the way that I thought.

You see, my mom is an awesome woman. She always dresses nice, wears make-up, fixes her hair and is sweet to everyone. I rarely dress like anything other than a hobo. The closest I get to make-up is Chapstick. I haven't had a hair cut in probably two years. And sweet? Let's just say, I cherish the people who think that I am remotely anything like that. My mom has always cared what people think about her and I usually don't think twice about it. For the most part, my mom knows what to say to make people feel better. I have been told I am too critical. She invests in relationships and I struggle to keep them going. I felt like she always had a handle on my sister and I. She was the ultimate chaos coordinator. Me, on the other hand....I am just treading water every day.

I know she would never in a million years believe this, but she really seemed to have it all together. Looking back over those years when she was dealing with me and my craziness as a teenager, I know I frustrated her to no end, but I felt like she dealt with it and then moved on. By the next day she was treating me like normal again. Here I have elementary age children and I feel like I drag the same feelings around for days. How did she do that?

In all honesty, my mom and I aren't as different as I would like to believe. We both love our children with every fiber of our beings. She is the one who taught me how to do that. She and I have sacrificed a lot for our kids. She gave up other career opportunities where she would have had a retirement account and insurance with a more impressive salary, to work at a Christian school with hardly any benefits except a discount on tuition (that was reduced practically each year). I learned everything I know about sacrifice from her and my dad. Her sacrifice was more obvious to me though because I saw it every day. I feel her pain now that I have experienced a similar type of sacrifice. Neither of us are super awesome housekeepers. I think we both live by the motto, "Spending time with our kids > than an organized home." We both love people. I can remember from a very young age watching my mom love on her friends. I always thought she was a great person to have on your side. She still is. While I am not the best at cultivating relationships with others, I do love people. I have always tried to do that through my careers through the years. We both get hangry. Never was a truer sentence written. Let's be honest ladies......there aren't many of us who don't get that way right? The similarities don't end there. We have the same horse hair that is so thick that you will die of heat exhaustion in the summer. We both love mushrooms and traveling. Neither of us like scary movies or change.

Honestly, everything you see about me that is good, came from being taught by her and my dad. She invested every ounce of herself into raising my sister and I. If you think highly of me at all, it is because of the prayers, tears, and emotional struggle that she went through every day. Thank you is not sufficient for her.

The neat thing though? She learned from her mom too. I get the benefit of learning from both of these women. I mean, how blessed is this girl? So many other women invested in my life in a positive way, aunts, great-aunts, great-grandmas, that when Mother's Day comes each year, I am reminded that I am also to be this for my kids, nieces, and nephews. They leave such a legacy and lead by example. Hopefully, one day, I will get to hear my kids say the same thing about me and I will simply tell them, "I get it from my momma!"

Happy Mother's Day from the Chief Chaos Coordinator of the Cox Crew!

My Story of Loss

Women don't tend to talk about some things. There are certain topics that we don't discuss because we either feel like no one else can ever understand or we are embarrassed or afraid. Yes, this is one of those blogs and I am about to talk about something that I haven't shared with many people at all. To be completely honest, I don't know why I haven't talked about it. I know there are others who have experienced the same kind of thing, and I never was embarrassed. Maybe it was fear. I guess by the end, I will have an epiphany.

Near the end of 2012, I had enough oral surgery to make anyone want to cut out all of their teeth forever if for no other reason than to never have to deal with them again. It was a pretty trying time for me mentally and physically. It was a process that took a few months and I was in pain and frustrated throughout most of it. I lost a lot of weight fast, as nothing really felt comfortable in my mouth. I tried to be a brave soul about it, but it was pretty horrible. I look back now and am ever so grateful for the team of dentists, oral surgeons and more who helped me through that rough experience. They were more than fantastic and I would recommend them to anyone.

At the end of the process, I was grateful and ecstatic. As I approached Valentine's Day of 2013, I realized my body was going through something else--I was pregnant. I knew it before I took the test. After two pregnancies, the signs get pretty obvious in no time. I didn't say anything to Anthony as I wanted to surprise him on Valentines Day. I had never not told him before and it was so hard to keep my little secret. Of course he was surprised and we were excited to have a baby that wasn't born in the spring for a change.

It was about week later when I started to get the feeling something wasn't right. I felt like I was being drug behind a semi truck. I was emotionally a wreck. I was extremely tired and....well it's hard to explain. I felt pregnant, but I didn't. Anthony encouraged me to call the doctor. It was the absolute last thing I wanted to do because in my gut, I knew something wasn't quite right.

I went in for the initial blood test where they confirmed I was pregnant, but my levels were dragging. They explained that was why I felt like I was dragging. My body was still trying to determine what was going on. (As if it had not been punished enough the months before.) For the next few weeks I was subjected to blood tests (I absolutely HATE needles), internal ultra sounds, and doctors or nurses who looked at me like I was broken. Okay, honestly, I don't think they thought I was broken, but you could see the pity and sadness in their faces as I came in from a waiting room full of very pregnant, very expectant mothers.

At this point you are probably wondering why I was so upset. I had two very healthy, amazing little boys. I had been one of those moms in the waiting room who was very pregnant and very expectant. I was a mom. If this baby didn't work out, at least I was going home to two others who needed and loved me. Call me crazy, but my mind never thought that way. All I could think was I don't deserve the pity, but I do feel like I was losing a little part of myself. I wondered if God thought I wasn't a good enough mother so in His infinite wisdom, he was "sparing" another child from my horrible failures. Why wasn't I good enough? Why were other people all around me pregnant and having an easy time while I was struggling just to keep this pregnancy going? Why......maybe......FAILURE.

Finally, the day came after more blood and ultrasounds when my wonderful midwife sat me down and explained to me that this pregnancy was not going to work out. She very kindly told me that she knew me well enough that I would want to give it as much time as I could, just to make sure that the pregnancy could not be saved. She offered me a pill to get the process moving since I was unwilling to have any surgery of any type. I tried to explain that I wanted the process to be as natural (Natural? What is natural about losing a pregnancy?) as I could make it, but I left with what she offered me. She explained to me it could take weeks for things to move "naturally" and that there could be very real complications if every little bit was not removed. I remember smiling at her and saying thank you and going home to try to move on.

I will never forget. I was out shopping with my mom when this horrible pain overtook my brain. It was like my body went into auto-control and things started to happen. Unfortunately, we happened to be in a store with a two bathroom set up--one men's and one women's. Naturally, being in a store that sold kid's clothes and toys, the women's restroom was occupied. I quickly glanced around and realized this was no time to be picky. Pushing through the door things got real. After it was all said and done, leaving the bathroom was difficult for me. When I finally made it out, my mom saw how pale I was and knew "natural" had happened. She guided me to the car and we headed home.

That's my story. I might be a mother, but I have experienced loss. I have never put my story out there and never really understood why until this blog. I always felt like I didn't deserve to feel sad. There are wonderful, spectacular women out there who have never carried a baby to term. I know them. Some have tried time and time again--never giving up on their hope. Others decided it was time to adopt. They are my friends, my clients, my family. I felt guilty about being sad and hurt. I was afraid to talk to them because their pain was deeper than mine. When did that become a thing? When did we stop talking to each other and being real about pregnancy and loss? Sure, when you are pregnant, everyone wants to give you advice and tell you what to and what not to do. When you lose a pregnancy, you feel utterly alone except for the looks of sadness that you see from those who do know what you are going through.

Why don't we reach out to each other and tell our stories? Losing a pregnancy is losing a pregnancy. No one pregnancy is greater than another. We are all women with the same fears. FEAR--there's that word again. As women, it comes up a lot. Throughout the whole cycle, from getting pregnant until they walk out the door of our homes to start a life of their own (Shoot, let's be real ladies, until we are old and dead), fear is a huge issue with our families. I wish I had reached out to more women and shared my anxieties. I feel like I could have gained wisdom and strength from someone who had been there and came out on the other side. Yet, we are so afraid of insulting someone else's pain that we don't reach out.

After losing that pregnancy, I was terrified to try again. When we found out months later that we were pregnant with Jase, I was having some complications. Anthony will tell you that I lost it more than once during those trying times. My sister and her husband even witnessed one of my hysterical fits when I started bleeding and had to go to the ER. They had no idea what to say or do to help me. I once again started to feel alone. I reached out to very few people. Thankfully, everything with the pregnancy resolved itself and Jase was born healthy, big.....and late.

One thing the doctor in the ER told me hit me pretty hard though. He said that most women lose at least one pregnancy in their lives--they just don't say anything to anyone. If this estimate is true, that means there are a lot of women walking around with a pain and loss they have never shared with anyone. What are we doing that makes women so afraid to talk to each other? Are we so caught up in appearances that we don't want people to know or pity us? Or does it go even deeper than that?

My guess is you are wondering where this is going? Talk to me. Don't be afraid to ask me about my experience or just ask questions. Share with me what you are going through and your fears. Allow me to be the person who helps you not feel so alone on this journey through life. Loss is a typical and very real experience in this journey of life. Acting like it doesn't happen or pretending that you are alright when you are screaming inside doesn't have to be part of it. If you haven't experienced loss in this area, be willing to listen and support. Before I lost that pregnancy, I never felt like I would be able to help someone who had experienced such pain and suffering. After going through it and wanting someone to just listen to me, I realized how foolish I had been. Whether or not you have been through it, you can still be a supportive and helpful friend.

Thank you for allowing me to share my story. If you read through this blog post, that means you now know even more of the real life Jennifer.

Dear Horrible Mom

Dear Horrible Mom—

Yeah, I am talking to you. The mom who struggles with keeping a clean house while balancing a job and her family. The one who hates to cook and allows her husband to prepare meals. A crotchety, frustrated, spent mom who finally loses it at the end of the day and yells at her children (Okay, let’s be honest. It might be more like 9:30 am.) Sometimes I see you in the parking lot wrangling your crazy kids as they put every reflex, not to mention ounce of patience, to the test—and it fails. Other times I see you stressing over your time, trying to figure out if you have actually spent enough time just listening to your kids. You wonder if your husband even remembers your name, or what you look like for that matter. You really can’t keep up with every detail, no matter how hard you try.

Let’s face it—you are a real loser. Not just a loser, but a failure. You aren’t helping anyone—not your kids, not your husband, not your coworkers, not anyone. Your kids will grow up to be degenerate, unintelligent, disrespectful people. Your husband will finally look at you one day and realize just how far you have let yourself go. Your job will suffer to the point that no one would ever keep you on staff or hire you. Your church is completely devastated at your lack of participation and leadership. I could go on and on listing out your future disappointments.

At some point, you break. You cry into your pillow, your steering wheel, your laptop, or just whatever’s closest. Who could ever understand what you feel like? Who could put up with such a depressing, pathetic excuse for a mother, wife, friend, and wait…..I can’t even list the rest of the roles you place because it makes me tired.

The truth is that every woman on this planet in every era of history has taken a moment out of her day to label herself a horrible ____________. (You can fill in the blank—worker, wife, sister, friend, etc.) It’s almost like it’s in our DNA to be hard on ourselves. We are our own worst critics. I guarantee, in most cases, someone around you thinks that you are doing a great job. But why would a horrible mom listen to anything positive about the pitiful job she was doing?

I am about to get very real with you here. I am that horrible mom. My husband cooks in our household. Our house is in total chaos a majority of the time (Oh okay—all the time). My car looks like homeless cats probably live inside. Some days, I don’t want to be the best. All I want is to sleep. Maybe even without a foot in my eye socket. I look around at the chips on the floor, the laundry on the back of the couch, the sticky wetness on the door frame (what in the heck is that?) and literally think there is no more horrible mother than I. Forget the fact that I spend waayyy too much time working. I struggle trying to find a balance between my editing time for my job, instructing the boys for school, and just enjoying real face to face time with them. Did I hug them enough today? Did I grade that spelling test? Did I remember to edit that booger off that child’s face in the family picture? Yeah, I am a jumbled up mess some days.

It’s usually on the days where I feel like that horrible mom that I talk to another person who vents to me the exact same struggles that I have had that day and I smile. Relief floods over me and I realize, IT’S NOT JUST ME! I scream it on the inside, from the rooftops of my, uhhh, greater intestine maybe. I usually look her straight in the face and say “Preach sister.” That’s when I realize how important it is for women—not just moms—to be very careful of the social media trap. You know exactly what I am referring to. You can’t sleep (mainly because you are stressing over what you have to do tomorrow, or next week even) so you mindlessly open Pinterest. You scroll nonchalantly through the pins and you stop on that amazing article—How to Clean Your House in a Week (and keep it clean for eternity with 15 minute spot cleanings). Or maybe that article that should give you all the feels—500 Things You Should do With Your Toddler Before they grow up and go to Kindergarten. Or my personal favorite—30 Days to Weighing Exactly What you Think You Should Weigh (with a gorgeous butt). You see pictures of beautiful homes with playrooms that look like no child has ever been there. You see a list of things you should probably do with your kid that you couldn’t complete before he was 30. You glance over and realize that you couldn’t do those exercises even if it meant that someone would gift you a million dollars and do them for you. And don’t even get me started on Facebook. The statuses that haunt me look a little like this: “I completely cleaned my house, had 15 houseguests over for an absolutely awesome party, cheered my son as he threw a no hitter, and now it’s 9pm and I am crawling under the covers about to get it on with the man of my dreams.” We compare not only what we look like, but what we are doing, how we do it, and who did it on less sleep. Sometimes, it can even be the opposite. We compare who has the worst of it. You know the people who groan on and on about how bad their life is. Let’s just be real. Social media needs a good dose of reality and positivity. Is it okay to say that in the same sentence?

So let’s bring this letter back around. It’s time to change a few things horrible mom. First, it’s time to stop being so hard on yourself. I bet (well unless you have a teenager) if you ask your kids right now about the job you are doing, they would praise you. If you talked to a coworker, they would be able to highlight something you did right. Your husband could probably tell you some vital thing you did to keep the house running. We are way harder on ourselves than other people. It’s time we get out of the self-pity and get on the positive. We can’t encourage our kids to think positively about themselves and their bodies if we constantly exhibit the opposite.

Second, get out of the comparison game. It’s a no win situation. There will always be someone better out there. Photography actually taught me this. No matter how much I learn, no matter how much I improve, there will always be someone who is better at photography than me. Once I finally became okay with that, I was able to grow and accept my own work for what it was—mine. It’s the same with womanhood. There will always be a better mom, a better friend, a better wife—but your family, your friends, your coworkers accept you for you—failures and all.

Third, get real on social media. Had a kid poop down your back while you were working? Post it. House looks like a velociraptor had a house party? Post it. Turned an entire load of laundry blue? Post it. Why? Because you will get 50 responses from folks who had the same kind of day and will say, “It does get better. It happens to the best of us.” What should you not post? Keep all spouse rants, bullying, and hatefulness to yourself. Beating down someone else will NOT make you feel better about yourself.

And last, but certainly not least, let people compliment you. Don’t be like me horrible mom. When my husband tells me how much he appreciates me, I sometimes sigh in my head and think, “I bet you do. It meant you didn’t have to do it.” That’s a crappy attitude and there is no place for it (even during PMS). When someone at work compliments a project or someone who is competing with you for a job says something nice, don’t automatically dissect their compliments to find the sarcasm or hidden meanness. When the older lady in Walmart tells you how awesome your kids are behaving as you are quickly pulling your toddler’s pants back up (the ones he had pulled off and was swinging around his head like a lasso) and giving your other child the “put that down before I lose it” look—smile, hug her, and cry on her shoulder. Some of them haven’t forgotten what it was like to be in your shoes.

All this to say, horrible mom, that you are not so horrible. You are an amazing creature that juggles like a clown, is faster than the Flash, needs less sleep than Elf, saves more days than Wonder Woman, and loves more than any person on earth. That in itself is not so bad.

Sincerely Yours,
A Horrible Mom