Books are my friends, my companions. They make me laugh and cry, and find meaning in life.”
Christopher Paolini, Eragon
Book Recommendations for Personal Development and Enrichment
This post contains affiliate links.
Books are my friends, my companions. They make me laugh and cry, and find meaning in life.”
Christopher Paolini, Eragon
This post contains affiliate links.
The month of July found me diving deeper into personal development.
Recently my focus has been heavy into Apologetics and strengthening my personal relationship with my Heavenly Father, as well as how my family’s homeschooling journey fits into it.
The following four books helped me with difficult decisions, and answered questions that nagged at me.
I pray they will help you as well.
It isn’t enough for our kids to hear us talk about the truth; they must understand how we are to live the truth.
Hillary Morgan Ferrer
I love the term “Mama Bear”.
It speaks to my heart as a Momma of four.
Since I’ve been looking for a better understanding of how to help my kids not only understand the cultural lies they’ll face in their lifetime, but how to help them embrace their own personal relationship with Jesus Christ–and I’m still so young in my own journey, I jumped at a chance to read a book aimed directly at this season of my life.
Sometimes social media really comes through– I first heard about this via IG, and pre-ordered it. Since that time I’ve also subscribed to their podcast and have learned so much.
Knowing I’m not alone in the struggles and worries has been a huge help for me too.
You’ll read about Linguistic Theft —“purposely hijacking words, changing their definitions, and then using those same words as tools of propaganda” as well as the various isms our society is obsessed with (Self-Helpism, Naturalism, Skepticism, Postmodernism, Moral Relativism, Emotionalism, Pluralism, Marxism, and Feminism)
Written by women passionate about Apologetics and raising children with strong relationships with Christ; I can’t recommend this book enough.
It’s definitely a book I’ll keep coming back to read time and again.
Never forget, God is more interested in our holiness than He is in our happiness.
Todd Friel
Don’t let Ken Ham’s endorsement of this book turn you off.
Todd Friel has a way with words, and a passion that jumps off the page.
Now, to be honest nothing in the book ‘shocked’ me, because I already know how awesome Jesus is.
However, as with Mama Bear, above, I acquired a deeper understanding of the truths written in the scriptures.
Reading Jesus Unmasked was similar to sitting down to a deep discussion with a good and knowledgeable friend.
One who knows exactly when to juxtapose humor with the seriousness of our salvation.
I found this book to be a super quick read, with chapters short enough to finish in between the needs of my kiddos.
Since I’m a tad weird about needing to finish a chapter before putting my book down, this is something I certainly appreciate in any book.
You can pick up your copy here.
It didn’t take me long to realize I had missed a vital part of the planning process…My perfect plan ignored the most important factor of all: the people in front of me.
Pam Barnill
When it comes to homeschooling there are multiple ways to do it.
Two of my favorites are planning it, and winging it.
Now, if you’re interested in actually being a bit more prepared for the year ahead, I recommend NOT winging it.
However, I also get a twitch from too much planning.
Pam Barnhill has taken (most of) the anxiety out of preparing for the year(s) ahead with this book.
Plan Your Year: Homeschool Planning for Purpose and Peace has something for everyone in it.
The personal stories of what worked for other homeschool moms give wonderful insight; and though we’re all different, seeing what ideas worked and didn’t work for others, helps us focus on what is best for our own families.
Since reading this book, and following the steps that fit my personal teaching style, and how I envision my family’s homeschool experience, I’m more excited for this year than any other year in our homeschool journey so far.
You can purchase your copy here.
We experience greater fulfillment as women and homemakers when we find and uncover the hidden artist within us.
Karen Andreola
Anyone familiar with the Charlotte Mason philosophy has likely heard the term “Mother culture”.
In the first chapter of her book, Karen defines what she means by mother culture.
“Mother culture is the skillful art with which a mother looks after the ways of her household and herself. In her home she creates a culture all her own with a mingling of love and responsibility.”
Now, as a homeschooling, SAHM of four kiddos, I’m guilty of forgetting about myself in the hustle of every day life.
There have been times in the not so distant past when I discovered I hadn’t read a book for personal enjoyment in longer than I could remember.
It isn’t surprising to note during that same period of time I wasn’t doing anything else for my enjoyment either. Sure, I was working out each day, but that wasn’t as much for enjoyment as it was a necessity for me to move without pain.
My personal time with God wasn’t happening the way it should either.
Life was spiraling out of control.
This book, while not the definitive guide to refilling your personal cup, is an amazing resource when you start to forget you’re a person as well as a wife, mother, and teacher.
My own copy of this book is already filled with highlights of things I want to be able to flip back to quickly.
With beautiful illustrations and wonderful quotes, Mother Culture For a Happy Homeschool is a great way to begin refilling your cup so you can continue to pour into your family.
To purchase your own copy, click here.
I hope this has helped you add a few more books to your summer reading pile.
If you’re read any books you think I should read, I’m always interested in recommendations. After all, there are never too many books to be read.
Until next time,
“Summertime is always the best of what might be.”
Charles Bowden
Growing up in the PNW I learned early in my childhood to not expect warm weather until the last week of August.
Summer storms were a normal part of the season–the same season that lasted from October until August.
When Man-of-the-House accepted a position in the Nation’s Capitol, and we moved once again to Northern Virginia, I looked forward to actual seasonal changes.
You know, beautiful colors in the fall; snow in the winter; flowers and rain in the spring, and sunshine in the summer.
While the temperatures are definitely summer-like, the weather itself hasn’t exactly been a balm to my SAD battling soul.
( You can read more about SAD in this post.)
The weather since we moved here nearly two years ago, has been as fickle as my cat.
This past week has been no different, providing us with thunderstorms each night.
Which is actually okay, because I love thunder and lightning, as long as I don’t have anywhere to travel to, and we don’t lose electricity.
A downside to having a well pump, without a generator to power it, means when we lose power, we lose water and the ability to flush the toilet.
Never a fun time when you have five people in the house who like the convienence of indoor plumbing.
When we were looking for our forever home, I specifically wanted one that had plenty of personality, and enough glitches to allow my own personal touches.
There are definitely plenty of ‘glitches’ in our quaint little cottage in the ‘burg.
One of the things I plan to tweak (if structurally feasible) is the position of the porch swing.
Currently it hangs at the end of our covered front porch, where it gets pelted with rain each time it storms.
This makes it difficult for me to enjoy a nice cup of hot tea in the fall; a tall glass of sweat tea in the summer, while the rain falls and freshens the earth.
Since I’m not a fan of getting rained on, my hope is to move it to the interior of the covered porch, facing the yard, so I can make use of it during those moments when my momma heart is as stormy as the weather.
The season of summer has always been my favorite.
Growing up, even if it didn’t mean a change in the weather, it at least meant I was able to stay up late into the night reading whatever books had caught my fancy.
Things haven’t changed much as I’ve gotten older–well, except I no longer choose to stay up late into the night. I’m a momma of early-risers, after all, and sleep is super important.
To help bring in the season at our house, I made a cute, minimalistic, printable to remind me that the thunder and lightning is happening in summer, and not some other season.
Get your own digital download of it here. Or if you’d like more than one option for your home, a summer bundle is available here.
Subscribe to receive my newsletter, and get a free summer subway art print as well. Just fill in the pop-up here on the blog.
If you’re looking to frame your printable art, might I suggest this.
I pray these little pieces of art will bless your home this season.
Until next time,
The post contains affiliate links. If you feel so inclined as to purchase something through the links, I will receive a small percentage, which will help me build my ministry.
As a mother of four kids who range in ages from tween to infant, I’m the first to admit that life isn’t one big picnic on a sunny day. Mostly it resembles an angry nest of hornets–at least it does when one or more of my children are having a rough day. For this reason, I’ve started reading about the practice of mindfulness.
What is mindfulness, you might be asking. The dictionary’s definition is as follows:
A mental state achieved by focusing one’s awareness on the present moment, while calmly acknowledging and accepting one’s feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations.
In a nutshell, (or in exhausted-momma-speak) it simply means be checked in to what is going on around you right then.
Rejoicing in ordinary things is not sentimental or trite. It actually takes guts.”
Pema Chödrön
Our society today applauds those who can multi-task. The truth is, however, that no one really can focus on more than one thing at a time. Something always gets dropped or lost in the constant shuffling between tasks.
To truly practice being mindful, we have to accept that we can’t do it all. We have to understand that doing multiple things at one time doesn’t do anyone any good.
We suffer and our children suffer.
The world may worship at that throne, but we, Dear Ones, aren’t supposed to.
Now, to be honest, this likely wouldn’t be found as a recommended practice in most places that educate on mindfulness. That’s because many of the people I’ve come across while reading, don’t know Jesus.
In my own life, and deep down in my soul, I know Jesus is always the first place to begin anything.
First thing in the morning –after the kiddos have chosen their show, and I’ve prepared my full-fat tea— I sit in the easy chair that once belonged to my father, and I connect with my Heavenly Father.
Recently that has looked like me opening my Bible and diving into the daily readings provided by my church as we read through the Bible this year.
This might look different for you.
What’s important is that we focus on God. We take that time, and focus our hearts and minds on His Word.
On His love.
On His devotion.
Children are smarter and more observant than most parents give them credit for. My children, for example, know if I’m truly paying attention to them when they’re speaking. If they notice my attention is lacking, that’s when things really get out of hand.
My eldest has been known to say on occasion, “You’re not even listening to me, Momma.”
Ouch.
So, I’ve taken to actively engaging with my children when they talk. Even if I’m reading, or working on something.
To be mindful means we have to put down the phone, the book, or whatever has our attention. Giving our full focused attention to the young ones who are chatting our ears off, isn’t always easy.
Listening intently as my eldest son explains his newest creation, when I was enjoying quietly reading about Mother Culture, can be frustrating.
What I’ve noticed though, is giving my children those few precious moments–making eye contact with them, and truly listening to what they’re saying–being engaged with their thoughts and ideas, makes for easier days.
Often when our children desire connections with us, we’re in the middle of conversations with a dear friend. These interruptions take a focused effort to practice mindfulness; to turn off the phone and set it aside.
This isn’t even the biggest problem though. To practice mindfulness, means being present in the moment.
Instead of reaching for our cellphones, digitally capturing the cute moment of our children singing a song to us, what our children need is for us to share the moment with them–while it is happening.
For the record, I’m not saying get rid of the phone completely. As a former professional photographer, pictures are second nature to me, and impossible to not take.
If there is something you want to treasure for a long time, snap those pictures then put it away to enjoy the activities going on around you.
This might sound like something easy. After all, if we didn’t know how to breathe I wouldn’t be here to write this, and you wouldn’t be here to read it.
Now, before you pat yourself on the back, thinking “Hey, I’ve got this!” take a moment and really think about what it means to take a breath.
What it means to breathe.
Focus on the breath that comes into your body. Then focus on the breath as it leaves your body.
Do this three or four times.
If your mind wandered, don’t fret, because mine tends to scamper about after the second inhale. Luckily, even the people who have been practicing mindfulness for years still catch themselves mentally strolling about.
The point of breathing isn’t just to get air into our lungs. It’s more about being mindful of the breaths, and in doing so, being aware of our bodies and how they feel in that moment.
Those moments when we’re frayed and teetering on the edge of personal sanity–maybe that tween’s sass got a little too bold, or the toddler clogged the toilet with a roll of toilet paper–pausing for a moment, taking a breath (or ten), before speaking and engaging with the situation can be the difference between tears (ours and theirs), and making a deeper, calmer connection.
Too often in today’s world, motherhood (and life for that matter) is a constant race. It resembles the cinematic cut scenes of busy New York streets filled with blurred people rushing down sidewalks while cars honk beside them.
Frankly, those scenes (as well as their similarity to life) make me nauseous.
As mothers we rush from one task to the next. From one kid’s activity to another.
Our rears spend more time in our vehicle seats than anywhere else.
With all this constant ‘going’, we miss out on so much.
The stress of getting out the door on time causes us to miss the opportunity to warmly and lovingly teach our son how to tie his shoes, and instead we might sigh dramatically and tie his shoes for him.
In our hurry to get everyone in their car seats, we might miss the sweet smooch our little one wants to share with us.
Rushing through bath time, or story time could cause us to miss out on giggles, grins, and little discussions that could open new doors of discovery for our children–or even for us.
Snuggles with littles don’t last forever, because those little ones won’t remain little for long. Taking the time to enjoy the closeness of those little warm bodies while they talk about their day, is something you won’t ever regret.
Even now my three year old is picky about when she is willing to snuggle. I don’t foresee many more years of snuggling in our future.
We need to slow down.
Mindfulness isn’t easy.
It takes practice, practice, and even more practice. There’s a reason it’s called practicing mindfulness because it isn’t something that comes naturally to us.
Human-beings are selfish by nature, and we focus on our wants and desires to the exclusion of others things. With this knowledge, we need to give ourselves love and grace.
Take those breaths discussed above, and practice really connecting to the moments around us. We must get our heads out of the past or the future and into the present where they belong.
We can’t change the past, and we have no control over the future. What we do have is right now. We must choose wisely.
Parenting in the Present Moment: How to Stay Focused on What Really Matters, by Carla Naumburg. You can get it here.
Until next time,
Hello Dear Ones,
This will be a short post. I just wanted to quickly share with you the full-fat tea I drink each morning. It’s my personal spin on bulletproof tea (which is Bulletproof coffee for us tea drinkers).
For a long time I fell under the belief (as many fitness enthusiasts do) that fat is bad for you. It isn’t bad for you. Just like protein and carbs aren’t bad for you. Very little is actually “bad” for you.
But, I digress.
Onto the full-fat tea!
Each morning when I get up, I turn on my electric kettle to boil water for my tea. This morning cup of tea has changed dramatically in recent months. It began as caffeine-free tea with honey every morning and has recently turned into fully caffeinated decadence.
However, I still only drink this one cup of tea with caffeine. I’m pretty sure that with two children tagging teaming me with wake-ups, caffeine is as much for their sanity and mine.
First the recipe. The ingredients are super simple, and to a point are up to the person making the full-fat tea.
Here are the ingredients I use:
Place collagen peptides and 1 TBS of sweetener in the bottom of your cup.
Add boiling water and stir.
Place tea bags in the water and make as directed.
While the tea is steeping:
Using a milk frother mix 1 TBS sweetener, the vanilla, and the heavy cream in a separate container from your tea.
When your tea is to your preferred strength, add the butter and coconut oil.
Allow to melt for a minute, then using the frother mix the tea.
Pour tea into prepared cream mixture.
This is an important step.
The tea MUST be added to the cream.
That’s it.
If you want to, carefully stir (with a spoon) the tea and cream mixture. I don’t generally, because the cream is a wonderful treat.
I enjoy this tea first thing in the morning, curled in my father’s recliner, with my Bible (and if time allows, a good book).
For a few book recommendations check out my post:
Until Next Time,
You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.”
C.S. Lewis
This post contains affiliate links.
As a child I was always the odd one in any group of children.
I didn’t have a television in my room, or a phone beside my bed. I didn’t even have a Nintendo (let alone a Super Nintendo).
What I did have were undusted shelves filled with well- loved books, and a library card with impressive late fees.
Now that I think about it, those fees are likely still waiting to be paid.
Oops.
In my twenties things changed little as far as my books went. I still wasn’t in style. I still didn’t really fit in. Not even with the people I considered friends.
Thankfully, I’ve learned the error of my ways.
Or else, I’ve just matured and found other like-minded bibliophiles to call my friends.
Regardless, my bookshelves are even dustier than they were when I was a child, and there are quite a few more of them than there were(thanks to various book recommendations)–much to my husband’s consternation.
Where I spent most of my adult life reading and enjoying contemporary novels (mostly of the cookie-cutter variety) homeschooling my children has brought growth to not only my experience as a mother, but to the types of books I enjoy.
At any given moment I might be reading one or two personal development books; and for every contemporary novel I read, I now enjoy a classic as well. In fact, I just finished Jane Austin’s “Emma” this afternoon.
However, since I seem to always be reading something or multiple somethings as it often is, I thought to share some of them with you.
Who doesn’t like book recommendations?
I’ll be honest, I’ve spent my entire life not feeling like I was good enough. There are still days where I feel this way. I accept this knowledge at the same time as being determined to change the mindset that allows those negative and inaccurate thoughts.
Amy Morin does an excellent job of pointing out things we as women should not do, in order to be mentally strong and confident. She gives real life examples of how these thirteen things play out in the lives of women she has counseled.
Each of the thirteen chapters discusses a different thing a mentally strong woman wouldn’t do.
For example: They Don’t Compare Themselves to Other People (the title of chapter one).
Several of the chapters really hit home for me, and helped me to realize a few things I’d been ignoring about myself.
If you’ve ever lacked confidence, were afraid to step outside your comfort zone, wanted to reinvent yourself, or just wanted to add tools to your toolbox of life; I highly recommend this book.
A caveat: this does have a secular focus, but that doesn’t detract from the author’s knowledge or the help you can receive from between the pages of this book. I fully intend to read the other books in this series as well.
Recently I’ve been fighting the need to stay home and hide away.
Unfortunately, hiding away doesn’t happen, because of my four children.
Two of these blessings definitely fall into the “spirited” category.
So often I find myself feeling out of my element, and out of control.
The constant battle of wills leaves me even more drained than I am after spending a day in a crowded social situation. The older I get the longer it takes to recharge, and the harder it seems to be to find a few moments to catch my breath.
This book, while short, helped me to understand that I’m not alone, and that my “spirited” children are truly gifts. Especially to an overwhelmed introvert who feels like I’m doing it all wrong.
Not everything needs to be a battle. Accepting our children for who God created them to be–high spirits, strong opinions, and all–brings a measure of calm to life.
I tell you what, if I didn’t know better I would say Jamie was hanging out in my house, or at the very least had a hidden camera stashed behind a stack of books or a empty Amazon box that hasn’t been broken down and taken out to the recycle bin.
This book is everything I hoped it would be.
The proverbial bat signal of introverts, calling us to stand together (from the comfort of our own homes), letting us know that we are not alone, and in fact the world needs us just the way we are.
From the quotes to the peek into her own struggles as an introverted mom, her words refreshed my over-burdened heart.
As a mother who doesn’t just struggle with anger, but wrestles with it like Israel and the angel, this passage is one of many I highlighted:
Comparing anger to hunger helps. After all, we don’t try to eliminate hunger from our lives. It’s just a cue, a signal that our body needs fuel. Anger is also a cue from our body, a signal the we need to pause.
We don’t just “press through” for the sake of it. We change course, walk away, breathe before dealing with the situation. Anger points the way toward peace if we pay attention.”
Jamie C. Martin — Introverted Mom page 30
Along with her own stories and words of encouragement, she included the stories of others–their success, failures, and tools for overcoming the rough moments of being an introverted mother.
If you haven’t read this book yet, what are you waiting for, Introverted Momma? It’s available at everyone’s favorite one stop shop–Amazon.
Do you have any book recommendations you’d like to share? If so, drop them in the comments. I’m always looking for a few more good books.
Until next time,
Several years ago I discovered a muffin recipe that revolutionized my family’s mornings, leading to this post on quick and healthy apple cinnamon breakfast muffins.
As a busy momma with four kids who are always hungry, my middle name should be “Quick and Easy”. Especially when I often get side-tracked by a blow-out diaper, a morning-meltdown, or a load of laundry.
This recipe originated from a fabulous blog that you can check out here.
Now, even though I’ve made the original recipe more than a dozen times, I found that I enjoyed experimenting with it as well, and so, my Healthy Apple Cinnamon Breakfast Muffins were created.
If I’d been a little more on-top of things I would have taken pictures as I made these. That didn’t happen, and to be honest, I’m lucky I remembered to snap this image before I took a bite.
Without further Ado…
Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees and spray muffin tins with coconut oil cooking spray {or line with cupcake wrappers}
In a medium bowl combine all dry ingredients and set aside.
This is generally when the kids come asking when breakfast will be ready, or where they put the toy de jour.
In a large measuring cup combine liquid ingredients. Beat the eggs into this mixture. I find using a handheld egg beater works the best, but a fork will work as well.
If your kitchen isn’t currently a private sauna, you’ll want to melt the coconut oil in the microwave before adding it to the liquid mixture.
Add liquid mixture to the dry ingredients, stirring until combined.
Fold in applesauce.
Spoon batter into prepared muffin tins, filling only 3/4 of the way full.
Bake in the pre-heated oven for 15-20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
My children and I love to spread real butter (none of that fake spread or low-fat manufactured stuff) onto these while they’re warm.
Ideally you’ll let them cool some before removing them from the pan, but who am I kidding? These are still steaming when we’re finished saying grace and my kiddos are doing the inverted blow.
These seriously couldn’t be easier to make.
I’m not a huge fan of spending time in the kitchen, so knowing these are on my breakfast rotation guarantees you’ll have them together and on plates for your family in a jiffy.
Until next time,
As a child I remember hearing the saying, “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me”.
The problem is, words can hurt.
They can leave scars no one can see.
Unlike sticks and stones, the damage done won’t leave visible bruising to the body; Neighbors, friends, family, and teachers won’t see the injuries.
That doesn’t mean the pain isn’t there.
It doesn’t mean the wounds aren’t real.
Words are the invisible weapon that can do lifelong damage and never heal.
It is not what goes into the mouth the defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth; this defiles a person. –Matthew 15:11
My children have these unseen injuries, and I’m the one who caused them.
How’s that for real?
I can try to rationalize the circumstances when I used words as weapons against the little people God has entrusted me with; it won’t make a bit of difference.
The fact is, I made HUGE mistakes.
I spoke in anger and frustration instead of love and respect.
Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits. –Proverbs 18:21
My tone caused as much damage (if not more) than the words I used. Maybe I could pat myself on the back and say, “Well, I’ve never called them names.” That means nothing when I know I’ve bruised and battered them with words of indifference.
Instead of praising them for their imaginations and efforts, I’ve asked, “Why would you do that?” Instead of saying, “Thank you for trying to help”; it’s been, “Look what you’ve done.”
These words have hurt them time and time again.
Realizing this now, tears at my heart. I’m bleeding from each of the wounds I caused my children.
I swore I would never treat my children the way my siblings and I were treated when we were growing up. I swore my kids would never have a reason to question whether they are loved.
Yet, here I am.
A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but perversness in it breaks the spirit. –Proverbs 15:4
When my children acted out, I wondered what was causing them to misbehave. I never stopped to consider it could have been my actions and reactions leading to their outbursts. That my words, said in frustration, anger, or disinterest, might have led them to lash out in search of some sort of control.
This family the LORD has blessed me with deserves more than that.
My children will not grow up questioning my love, or remembering only the harshly spoken words.
I will not be the reason their self-esteem suffers, or they turn away from God and family. I will not push them away with my own actions.
Our Heavenly Father knows my sins. He knows my heart, and my weaknesses. He trusted me to raise these children, and I will do my best, and when I stumble I’ll turn to Him.
I will control my words–both the words themselves, and the tone of my voice. I will focus on praise; on building up my children into strong, mature, loving, adults. I will do my best to let them spread their wings, to make mistakes, to be helpful, to explore life, and be the people God created them to be.
I’ll pray for guidance.
For patience.
For understanding.
I’ll pray for a kind tone and a joyful spirit.
I’ll pray for a million questions from my almost three-year old, so that I may show her through actions and words that she matters.
I’ll pray for my son to try new things–even when they involve me sitting back and ignoring the mess, because I want him to see as well as hear how proud I am of him, and how much I believe in him.
I’ll pray for understanding as my tween daughter finds more and more interests that feel far too worldly for someone still so young.
Finally, I’ll pray for each and every one of you who have faced these same problems. Those who have hurt their friends, families, and loved-ones with weapons so powerful they can damage people indefinitely.
Heavenly Father,
I pray today that you help each of us control our tongues. That we may build one another up in this world. That we use our words to soothe and encourage, not to draw blood. Give us pause when we speak, that our children will not be a casualty of our sinful ways.
Amen.
If you feel led, please share this post so it may remind others they’re not alone in their struggles with the words we use.
Blessings,
I love food.
That’s real.
I love food so much that I think I could happily live as a food taster.
The problem I have though, is my body.
Now, this isn’t a body-image issue.
This is an I hurt all the time and can’t bend over or walk, issue.
I discovered back, sometime around 2009, that I have severe sciatica.
This knowledge came after years of constant pain, not always being able to put pressure on my legs, and fearing I’d lose my ability to move every time I sneezed.
It took forever for the medical specialists to figure out what was wrong. Nothing was showing up on x-rays or CT scans. They even tried to do an MRI, but discovered just how claustrophobic I am.
Eventually the diagnosis became clear. It also became clear that my lifestyle needed to change.
It has been a decade (and three more children) since this epiphany.
During that time I have tried so many different things.
Some of them actually worked, for a while.
Others didn’t.
Let me tell you, three day cleanses where you get nothing but two shakes, a salad, water, and green tea each day is not a healthy or particularly useful way to try and get fit.
In order to be healthy I thought all I had to do was workout–strengthen my core so the muscles would be stronger and I wouldn’t get flare-ups. I figured I already ate healthy, so everything should be manageable.
And, it was.
For a little while.
I would still have occasional flare-ups and find myself barely able to move, or stuck taking muscle relaxers and painkillers.
Don’t get me wrong, working out is a major requirement for me to maintain movement and a pain-free life.
However, it isn’t the only part.
After I had my youngest daughter (Buggles) in 2016, I expected my body to bounce back the way it had after my eldest son (the Man) was born.
It didn’t.
In fact, the more I worked out the more the weight stayed put, or increased.
I tried meal replacement shakes, weight loss supplements, and cutting things out.
I even tried working out more.
Nothing worked.
Two years later and I still had the extra weight.
Then I got pregnant again. The weight I gained during this last pregnancy was gone within weeks of giving birth. Yet, those pesky pounds from the previous pregnancy still hung on.
Again, I went to the shakes.
This time they worked.
Sort of.
They worked until I started replacing them with real food again. That weight came right back, and it brought a few friends.
My body was angry.
I was angry.
Every morning it hurt to get out of bed.
Every day I was exhasuted, even if I slept for 8 hours, I couldn’t function.
All day long I was in a fog. My brain wasn’t seeming to engage. Things took longer to process, and time seemed to just disappear.
Something needed to change.
I was still working out, but that had gotten a bit sporadic. There were days when I decided to curl up, eat cookies, and not workout, because I was just too tired.
There was no energy.
Energy comes from what you put in your body.
The human body is much like an engine on a vehicle. It needs fuel to move or perform its tasks.
You don’t fill your gas fueled engine with diesel, so why would you fuel your body with the things it can’t use?
In January, I decided enough was enough. I was tired of feeling older than my age. I was tired of feeling bloated, and I was tired of the nonstop headaches.
The first step I took was to get rid of all the processed foods in the house. This was difficult for a number of reasons, none actually having to do with me.
Just because I was tired of the way I was feeling, and knew I needed to stop eating what far too often passes for food, didn’t mean anyone else in my family was on board with that.
The next thing I did was pull out my portion control containers I got five years ago when I ordered the 21 Day Fix program.
I’ll be honest, five years ago I looked at those containers, tried them for a few days, and then went back to my normal eating habits.
The workouts were great, but I figured I didn’t need an eating plan.
For several weeks I played around with the containers. I followed the plan included with the original workout program.
Mostly.
And it worked.
Mostly.
Those pounds were starting to slip away.
It wasn’t an overnight thing, but I started to notice the scale staying on a number and not jumping back up the next day.
About this time I found out that the eating plan had been updated and turned into an actual course I could take to dig deeper into the science behind the containers.
Let me tell you, the program was exactly what my lifestyle change was missing.
When I say program, I don’t mean “diet”. I also don’t mean magic pill, or quick fix. It isn’t packaged so someone can do it for you. It is real life.
I’ve learned what is needed to fuel my body for my goals. And just how much of certain foods I need to eat in order for my body to run without issues.
For instance, there is such a thing as too much nut butter–I know, I was shocked too.
Apparently the amount I was using in my morning oatmeal was more than I needed to have all week.
Oops.
That Explained a few things.
Those colored containers look tiny, but the foods that go inside them are natural, whole foods. They’re dense and filling, and there are times when I wonder how I’m going to eat all of it.
I’m learning that eating too much or too little will throw me off, but if I follow the portions I feel great throughout the whole day.
There is so much to know when it comes to food, and so many people telling you what is best. I don’t want to be another one of those talking heads.
I just want to help people feel better, fuel their bodies, and cut out the processed crap that bogs our bodies down and makes us foggy.
Start with the first step. Make a choice to be healthier. Then get rid of the processed junk. After that, eating delicious food in the right portions is a simple thing.
So simple, even someone who dislikes cooking as much as I do, and has children who tend to be picky about their foods, can do it with ease and success.
That quaint little phrase fitness professionals like to toss around, “abs are made in the kitchen”, really is true.
To the Mother Who Struggles
with Patience
You’re Not Alone
It’s raining outside, the kids are crowding around you in a two foot space, fighting each other for your attention. Each one louder than their sibling beside them; the noise is deafening, and frustration pulses inside you.
When the three year old asks you the same question for the fifteenth time in as many minutes, your patience snaps and angry word vomit pours out of your mouth.
Sound familiar?
Well, Momma, I’m proof you’re not alone.
I’ve struggled my entire life with patience, and it got worse as I got older.
If anything, motherhood seems to have pushed me even further into territory more fitting of Batman than a loving Christian mother.
There are many (many!) days when I temporarily lose sight of who I am; forgetting I’m a mother in her late 30s, and not a drill sergeant (or some dark hero).
Instead of lovingly listening to each of my children as they inform me, once again, of the horrible atrosities their siblings were part of–generally looking at them while they were eating, or in some cases NOT looking at them– I find my patience disappear like a bird flying south for the winter.
Our children need love, guidance, and correction.
As parents we know this.
We also know they’re supposed to receive those things without running for the nearest fallout shelter.
The trick is figuring out how to continually show how much we love our children, even when we’re so perfectly imperfect we end up on the razor-edge each time these little people don’t act like robots.
While my parents weren’t drill sergeants, they also weren’t compassionate. Discipline often came loudly and with words of condemnation.
My children deserve better than that, and so do yours.
The question we need to ask ourselves is:
Since we’re not likely going to become patient parents overnight, we need to give ourselves some grace.
Forgive yourself when you mess up.
We also need to give our children grace.
Did you get that?
Our children need grace too.
Just like we do.
I’ve been blessed with these children.
They’re mine, but only temporarily. I only have so many years with them before they leave to follow whatever path God has laid out for them.
Those moments when my son steals the peanut butter and hides in his room to eat it, should be handled in such a way that he knows he isn’t being sent to the Gulag; that he hasn’t damaged his relationship with his parents.
Grace.
I should show grace, because God has shown me grace again, and again.
Sadly, knowing I should show grace, and actually showing grace are two vastly different things.
In the heat of the moment, when I’ve just discovered the peanut butter smeared all over the carpet, as well as his face, it is often a very worldly response that comes out instead of the words of love and compassion.
Mom guilt is a real thing, y’all. It shouldn’t be, but it is. That isn’t God, that’s the world. He has already forgiven me for not handling that episode correctly. He has already moved on.
Whatever struggle you’re going through with your children, God’s been there. When you act like the world and not like Christ, God forgives you.
It’s time that we learn to forgive ourselves and move on.
If you didn’t show your child grace, apologize. Show them you’re human and flawed; that you make mistakes and bad choices too.
Then move on.
Patience is hard won, but grace can shorten the battle.
With prayers for you, Fellow Momma.
Until next time,
As a teenager, one who obviously knew everything about everything, I believed I would be a certain way as an adult. I was one of those people who believed I knew how to handle whatever life had in store for me. This included parenting.
*Insert slightly insane laughter here*
There is a meme floating around the internet that states: “I was a perfect parent. Then I had children.”
It would be funny if it weren’t so incredibly accurate.
Too many people (me included) believe they’ve got it all figured out–life, fitness, parenting, their make-up; only to have reality kick them solidly in the solar plexus.
My old friend, Reality likes to remind me of its presence regularly.
When I was still a perfect parent–living under my parents’ roof, wearing clothes they bought for me, talking on the phone (a landline!) they paid for; I swore I would never treat my children the way my parents treated me.
I wouldn’t keep my children from doing what they wanted, make them do chores, or tell them no. I would be different. I’d understand them, and treat them with “respect”.
I’m sure God chuckled at my plans.
My parents did.
Before the birth of my youngest daughter, my niece and I spent some time sitting on a bench overlooking the Puget Sound.
The sun was warm, the sky was clear, the seagulls were begging scraps of our lunches. It was a much-needed break from the hustle and bustle we’d been dealing with for the last few months.
Taking a few moments to enjoy the beauty the Lord created, and to truly appreciate it, helped relax my anxious heart.
It also helped me understand something about myself:
I’m not a perfect parent, and I don’t really have this parenting thing down.
In fact, teen me would spend a lot of time rolling her eyes at adult me.
I always thought my parents were strict, but they were nothing compared to how I am as a parent.
Part of this stems from a moderate battle with anxiety, but not all of it.
Simply put, my priorities have changed, as have my views.
God has blessed us with four beautiful children, not to be perfect parents, but to teach them and train them up in what is righteous.
Much to their dismay, that includes horrors like sweeping, making their beds, cleaning bathrooms, and picking up toys.
It also requires them to spend time with us, to not put their friends above the LORD or their family, and to forgive each other when we stumble.
Something else that comes along with this is the amount of freedom we allow our children to have.
Our eldest is only eleven, and regardless of how my husband and I were raised the world is a much different place today than it was twenty years ago.
Yes, she can do solitary things without constant supervision, and she has experienced the joy of middle school ministry events (where her mother wasn’t invovled), but there are rules that have to be followed, and consequences if those rules are ignored.
This is a relatively new freedom for her, and I still have several bad moments where I want to keep her in the house away from any chance of getting hit by a speeding car or abducted (see, anxiety).
I’m taking it a day at a time, and maybe I’ll be more relaxed when they’re visiting me in the retirement home.
The point is, there are no perfect parents on Earth, except God, and of course those who have never had children.
We as a society (especially women) spend so much time judging the merits of one person over another that we seem to forget we’re all just stumbling along doing the best we can.
Have some people lost their way?
Yes, but that isn’t for us to judge.
There are people in this world who have been called to help those who have fallen.
Instead of casting blame and pointing fingers, it’s time for us to come together and build each other up, and to raise our own children with love, compassion, and grace.