I woke up that morning with a headache. A little drummer inside my head valiantly beat his drums, pausing only now and then to take a sip of water before renewing his efforts. I pushed out of bed, reached for my pants, and headed towards the ibuprofen like a homing pigeon.

The house was silent, the only sound a fan in the window pulling in fresh, dewy, morning air. My baby was still asleep, sprawled across his pillow, his little brown arms above his head. I feast my eyes for a minute, I made him after all, he brings me pure joy.

My ibuprofen washed down, I made my one precious cup of coffee that I had to learn to drink black when I took up Intermittent Fasting. Peace settled over me like a cape as I relaxed into my big chair, my bible beside me, my cup of coffee clinging to my fingers, hot and strong. (incidentally also how I like my man.js )

From 4 am to 6 am in the morning is my time. It’s my sweet treat, God given to me, because I am obedient and get my parsley out of bed

It wasn’t always like this.

I had moments of feeling so very sorry for myself with how little time to myself I had. My face would open and sad little murmurs would come out to wash their mud over my soul and muddle up my life.

“ I never have time to read my Bible, I just grab a verse here and there”, piously.

“I am so exhausted, I never have enough time in my day”. exasperated

“God, why did you set life up to be so hard for Mothers”. faithless

“I don’t even have time to drink just one full cup of coffee before the children need me”. poor me

Oh how sad I was. My life sucked and I was trapped in a life with my children who turned out to be far more work than I was prepared for.

They ask uncomfortable questions like “what do chiggers eat?” and “why is your tummy fat?”

They eat far more food than I was prepared to commit to fixing.

There really should be a contract Moms have to at least glance over before they conceive that first human being. Because what is in their mind, is not what actually happens.

Nobody prepares us for Newborn life. Sitting in a rocking chair for twenty five hours of a twenty four hour day, with a person sucking on your chest, pausing only to create explosive poops that fills the diaper, overflows it, out of the diaper, out into the little snap shirt, all the way up to the adorable little neck.

But neither does anyone know to tell you that every single minute of that twenty five hours is spent gloating over the tiny perfect bones in their hands, the funny little toes that almost resemble your husbands hobbit feet, or the way you will pray over those perfect, beautiful, parts that God designed so flawlessly, that this innocent child would grow up to know their creator, and that you would be able to protect them and keep them from harm.

Nobody prepares you for how swift a toddler is. You can turn your head to take the bread out of the oven, and in that amount of time, your toddler who normally cannot even open a door, will not only open the door, but will also be able to sprint 200 yards to where the inmate road crew is laying down a new road. It happened.

But neither will anyone prepare you for how your heart stops when they first discover the power of flirting with their parents. The squinted eyes attempting to wink, or the feeling of fat little hands pulling at your dress.

You certainly will not be prepared for how much they eat. Young parents and single people are thinking “breakfast, lunch and dinner”. But us seasoned mothers know better, more like “breakfast, snack, snack, snack, lunch, snack immediately after lunch, snack after snack, snack after snack, snack snack, dinner, bedtime snack, avoiding going to sleep snack. And don’t think for a minute that you will be able to sneak a little treat all by yourself. Like me, when you have 5 children, and one piece of apple pie, you will be willing to sit on that pie if a child happens to come by while you are blissfully biting into the sweet sugary treat. They will smell it and ask you sternly like a toddler prison guard to open your mouth and show them your tongue.

You must not judge parents when they tell you how they got hungry for popcorn late at night, so they carried the popcorn maker, the bowls, and the salt to the bedroom, shutting the door and putting a towel down by the crack so as to block the floating smells, then on through the bathroom door, shutting and locking, and through the closet door, shutting it tight, and only then, through three closed and locked doors do they pop their popcorn before snuggling in bed to eat it in peace.

And last of all, we are not prepared for the sheer joy of having teenagers. Watching them make friends, talking to them as adults, teasing them, and having it thrown right back, rejoicing as they develop their own style, and even, yes, that phone call saying “Mom I am sorry, I wrecked the car”. I’ve already received that phone call, and my oldest is just 14.

“Its ok” I replied, “its just money”.

Money is replaceable, hearts are not, and words cannot be taken back.

When my husband came home, I asked to speak to him in the bedroom before he speaks to our son. His control was admirable. He is more hot headed than I am, and his flesh almost quivered. I was mildly alarmed seeing the throbbing vein in his forehead, so I made some quick soothing murmurs as he whispered hotly to me. My hand rubbed up and down his neck, and I carefully scratched his back the way he likes. Then together we walked to the living room to face our deeply chastened son. My husband remained very calm and gentle, however his eyes were a brilliant sky blue. Those blue eyes made me nervous and my hands made little fluttering calming motions behind my sons back. those who know my husband, know what those bright blue eyes mean.

Later, after the initial shock, we laughed and laughed and laughed together, but not that our children could see. It will cost thousands to fix, and it will be out of pocket, so for now, our bumper will remain smashed as we pay more important things. I cannot help but rejoice, knowing that God is allowing this to be a reminder to our son that one moment of carelessness, can bring heavy consequences.

You have to know when to tap out. There are times you must tap out and allow your husband/mother/sister/friend to take over.

Such as when your voice starts to bark. Either control it, or tap out. Your children do not deserve your vitriol just because you are tired. Be uncompromising with this principle. You will not believe how much it pays off.

When you have just had a baby, your nerves (can) resemble raw hamburger, and (you) may have no mental reserves. Ask for help, and then tap out to take a warm bath, or take a twenty minute nap.

Sometimes tapping out means you take a little break without handing off to another adult.

Instead of cooking, feed them cereal for a meal.

Instead of schooling them on that day you have a migraine, the rain is pouring down outside, and you have been in the camper for the entirety of a winter that is lasting 256 years, sit down with them, and laugh at a movie. The Beathoven series, Home Alone series, Baby’s Day Out, Cheaper By the Dozen, or if you are like me and love animation, The Croods (the movie) and Tom and Jerry are all hilarious, heart lightening movies. (I could mention many more)

Sometimes tapping out means you gather them up, load them in the car, release them beside the lake and let them play while you tap out on a towel in the sand, the warm sun beating down on your bare arms and legs.

The key to tapping out, is to not do it too quickly, but knowing when to do it. Grow those muscles, but don’t do it at your children’s expense.

Trust in the Lord with ALL your heart, don’t lean on your own understanding.

Listen to Holy Spirit with ALL your heart, he will nudge you when it’s time to take a step back. Ask him to poke you hard, every-time your mouth opens with hard, hurling words. Beg him to give you that gift, and then be prepared to listen. Sometimes you may even shout a child’s name, and as you shout the name, he will nudge you, you will remember, and you will follow it up with “I JUST LOVE YOU SO MUCH” shouted with a smile. Be sure and laugh at yourself as you whisper “Thank you Jesus”

My children have no idea the secret life inside my head.

No

idea

!!