I Believe in You.

I beleive in you

Four simple words.

It’s the smallest gesture you could possibly say to someone.  It takes you virtually no time to say it and yet it makes such an immense impact.

I have been working hard on writing books/ stories and cookbooks for creativity and profit.  My husband just sent me a text with those four small, simple words.

“I believe in you.”

I can now officially conquer my world and slay any dragon in my way because the man I love; the one I will cherish until the moment of my death believes in me.

And I in him.

When the Horrible Happens

When the Horrible Happens

Yesterday was a bad day.   Zoe (11) was holding Chavi (4 months) and she slipped and fell.  BOOM!  I heard this loud crash in my kitchen.  I, of course, was writing in my office so I didn’t know what happened.

Then I heard it.

The shriek of my infant.

You know that moment when your heart stops and you have a just under a millisecond to decide how you’re going to react, knowing that no matter what you choose, that the crossroads you’re at determines where you’re headed and usually no choice is a good one?  I had that yesterday. I’ll get back to this in a second after I tell you what happened.

I grabbed Chavi from Zoe’s arms and asked what happened.  She told me she fell.  I had already gathered this information from the crash I heard, but what I didn’t know at that time, was that my infant was bleeding onto my shoulder.

I tried comforting her as much as I could and when I pulled her back to assess, I saw it.  Her crimson life-force pouring out of her mouth.  Instantly, panic set in.  I was terrified for my child.  I had no idea how bad it was, and my heart was breaking for her anguish, fear and pain.

You see, her gumless mouth ended up biting almost all the way through her tongue.  When Zoe fell, Chavi’s jaw was slammed up into her tongue.  She ended up biting about 1/2 way through the upper portion of her tongue and 1/4 of the way through the bottom.

Long story short, we went to one hospital, was transferred to another one via ambulance where they sewed through my child’s muscle without even a local anesthetic.  (Don’t get me started on how much THAT pissed me off!)

We got home and was finally able to get some pain killers in her and numb her tongue a little (Thank you, Orajel company!)  But she refused to nurse.  I can’t say that I blame her.  I was able to pump a little and we fed her through a dropper syringe.

Horrible.  The entire ordeal was a horrible experience.  Chavi wouldn’t be comforted by anyone.  She refused to nurse for a majority of the time until finally in the middle of the night, she wanted it for emotional comfort if nothing else.

I tell you that story to tell you this:

How we deal with things will determine how our life goes.  I had the choice in multiple scenarios here to treat people horribly out of my own fear, and anger, but where would that have gotten me?  I could have gotten frustrated at my oldest child and made her feel worse.  She already felt like nothing for accidentally hurting her helpless sister.  I could have yelled at the nurses in the ER for saying that Zoe fell on top of Chavi  (which from what i gathered, she didn’t) When I clearly told them I had no idea what happened, I was on my office.

I could have freaked out when the doctor couldn’t do anything for her and we had to be transferred.  I could have physically assaulted the nurse when I was told to leave (Thank GOD for my husband staying in the room) because I was too emotional.  I could have said some very un-Christian things to the same nurse when I was allowed back in the room and found out that they essentially performed a surgery on my unmedicated, fully-feeling-the-pain, child because it was more convenient for them to do it that way instead of taking her to the OR and sedate her so she wouldn’t feel it.  (I was told “it’s better this way”.  Better for whom?)

My point is I could have made this situation a lot worse.

With that said, thank you to the doctors at Dale Medical and Flowers hospital as well as the EMTs that took care of my daughter.  I am grateful for you making the best out of a horrific situation and making my daughter whole again.

I need to be a better blogger.

I need to be a better blogger

I’m trying, y’all.  I really am.

I am trying to herd my ducks to the pond and they’re not walking in a line.   It’s like they’re suffering with ADHD and are meth’d out or something.

Yeah, I know.  My sense of humor.  It’s weird.

“How can you post Christian blog posts and then talk about meth in another one?”

Simple.  There really is an answer for it- you ready?  It’s good, it’s juicy and it’s scandalous and completely bucks the system we have in place on the internet for categorizing things… ready?  I mean, REALLY ready?  Ok, here it is:

Because I’m not a one-note kind of girl.

Shocker, I know.

Think about this.  How many hats do you wear?  I’m a mom, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend, an entrepreneur, a writer/author, a die-hard coffee junkie, a Christian, a sinner and SO. MUCH. MORE.  Are you one thing?  Do you ONLY think about one thing or do one thing?  No?  Then why would you assume that’s how my blog should be.

I understand.  I don’t go to recipe blogs looking for life-advice.  BUT, I do go to lifestyle blogs (like this one) and not have any pre-conceived notions about how she should run it.

Ok, with that said, I’m working on being a better blogger, I have the recipe books premier on the 5th, I’m helping a friend move to this God-forsaken part of the country on Saturday and then I’m going to be holing myself up in my office all day on Sunday to work.

Yes, I”ll have my coffee pot on.  I’ll only see people to feed Chavi and to accept the random food my family leaves as sacrificial offerings to my creativity.

Until next time, dearies!

Refreshing Your Spirit.

Refreshing your Spirit


I’m an earthy girl.  If you ask my husband he’d swear I’m a hippy at heart.

I love walking barefoot on the earth.  I love feeling the springtime sun on my skin.  I REALLY love the scent of petrichor.  (For all of you who aren’t Doctor Who fans, that’s the scent of the earth after the rainfall.)  It makes me feel connected to everything living.

Don’t roll your eyes.  This isn’t some pseudo-science crap, this is how I refresh my spirit.

Careful, Heather.  You’re dangerously close to being on the cusp of paganism here.

No, I’m not and here’s why.

Y’all know I’m a Christian.  I may not be the best at it, but that’s why God has granted me grace.  Anyhoo, who made the earth and it’s elements?  Whose sun am I standing under?  Who created the rain, and the dirt and the ensuing smell that somehow recharges me?

Why do we think getting back to nature is a pagan/hippy thing?  What is it about Christianity that has to be so chemical instead of appreciating what God has made for us?  We can appreciate a sunset and say it was painted by God’s hand, but as soon as we step into a wooded area and feel “aaah, home”, OH NO!  warning bells and whistles and red lights are going off.  Danger Will Robinson- she’s going to become a tree hugging moonlight naked dancer and name her kids things like Patchouli!

I have a friend who jokes that she’s allergic to nature.  I am exactly the opposite.  I don’t feel “right” if I’m cooped up in a building all day.  My ideal vacation is camping in the mountains.  I would gladly give up civilization right now if I could keep only 1 convenience.  (Indoor plumbing for those of you curious.)

Now, there are Christians who will argue vehemently that the church is the place to refresh your spirit.  And my question is “why”?  Jesus said that the Temple itself should be a house of prayer.  Not a place where you go and hear a motivational speech.  Now, I have no problems with church or going there to hear a sermon, but that’s not the intended function of a church.  The body of Christ is also the church.  It’s not just a building, and we’re to be in prayer for one another.  Praying for others is a wonderful thing, and I recommend it highly.  But why is that the be-all/ end-all of going to church?  I know too many people who sit in the pew for an hour and cuss someone out on their drive home.  I am not sure how you view it, but to me, that’s not spiritual refreshment.

The woods may not be your thing.  It could be the ocean.  Frankly, there are too many things that eat the things that can eat me in the ocean.  I’m good, no need to go there for me.  Not to mention, sand.  JUST NO.

But, to each their own.  If going to the rodeo refreshes your spirit, or walking among the zoo animals or streaking… no, don’t do that one… but you get my point- whatever it is that invigorates you and resets you to where you’re receptive to God’s still small voice, go do it for yourself.

You can’t give to others if you’re empty.  We’ve all heard the cliche “you can’t pour water out of an empty jar”.  Well, a lot of times, cliche’s are true.  Please- do something for yourself, even if it’s taking a bubble bath with candles, a good glass of wine and a good book.  (Wait, did I just inadvertently tell you my second favorite way to unwind?  Sure did send the good books, good wine and candles my way, people.)

Until next time, dearies.

E-book launch!

E book Launch

Hello Dearies!

By now, if you’ve followed my blog in any capacity, you know we have an XXL family.  9 people.  And for some reason, they like to eat.

Like, a lot.

Well, I am bringing our recipes to your table!

I’m SUPER excited to announce that I will be launching several E-books in my 30 Days series!

I’m finishing up last minute preparations and needed adjustments.  It’s a LOT of work, but it’s going to be so worth it!  Best part- they are going to be less than $5!  Because I also know you’re on a budget (who isn’t these days?!) they’ll be launching for $2.99 a piece!  That is a STEAL!  30 recipes for 3 bucks.  That’s 10 cents a recipe!  How can you beat that?!

Good food on a budget.  I feel you- that’s why I’ve written these e-books.  I have been working on these for weeks, some in the collection I’ve had for years.  I truly hope you’ll give it a try!

Mark your calendars.  August 5th.  That’s the date.  I’ll have a post with all of the links once they’re launched.  I can’t wait, I’m excited and I hope that these recipes will bless your family, as they’ve blessed mine!

Start Following Your Dreams Today!

Start Following Your Dreams Today


I was talking to my wonderful neighbor yesterday on Facebook and I sent her the 1st chapter of the book I’m writing. I am always nervous when I put myself out there creatively, because we all like to be acknowledged when we do something we love and it’s subject to someone else’s opinion.  We want to be sure that we’re pleasing to our audience.  -One of the reasons I love stage so much, is I can take my character and turn her into something truly expressive.

Anyway, the basic gist of the conversation was that she always wanted to learn something.  She’s wanted to play guitar and write songs.  You see, my neighbor has always been in a “man’s world”.  She was in the Army, in a field dominated by men.  She’s an all-around rock star and she told me something that I don’t want to forget.  In fact, the wisdom that she gave to me, I want to pass on.

This is what I gleaned from our conversation.

Why wait until you feel the “perfect” time is to learn a new skill, or follow your dreams?  If you want to learn how to fix outboard motors for boats, or how to become an exotic pet groomer or whatever, what are you waiting for?  Sweetie, Christmas comes but once a year and it usually doesn’t have the toys of “life goals” in the fat man’s bag.  (I was about to say “sack” and take this conversation in a WHOLE new direction!

What are you waiting for to make your dreams happen?

I”m not telling you to give up your 6 figure income to start a chinchilla farm.  What I’m saying is in addition to working your 6 figure income, why not start your chinchilla farm?   Since most of us live in the real world, we can’t just stop what we’re doing for income.  Like me, I can’t just stop teaching my children to write full time.  Don’t get me wrong, if I had a way to make my dreams happen, I’d install a picc line and mainline caffeine directly into my bloodstream so I’d only sleep on weekends to get everything done.  As it is, I am fixin’ to (like that?) start teaching the kids again, and adding 3 more to the mix of FT homeschool, as well as my freelance writing career, and writing books for publication.  Oh, and the blog.

Bring on the 60+ hour work weeks and the slow cooker meals.  Hey, hubs and kids like to be fed every now and then, and for some reason they all look to me to do it.  No problem, we have tons of ways to make them fed.

But seriously- what dreams and passions do you have?  For me, I love the written word.  I love how combinations of them can transform you, inspire you or completely devastate you.  I adore how syntax brings to life the mundane.

My dream is to be a full-time writer while having all of our bills paid off and have a farm where we have sheep and chickens and a huge garden and a house that I can entertain.  I want to be able to be a philanthropist because I put my God-given talents to work.  (more on that blog post tomorrow!)

Full disclosure- I’m going to monetize this blog soon.  Look, we’re a homeschooling family of 9 and you’d do everything you can to support your children, right?  Well, this is how I can contribute.  My husband gets out of the Army in a year, and I need a way to support our family while he’s in school to make a better life for us. 🙂

This post has given me so many ideas for future posts, y’all!

Desperation Is SO not your color

Desperation does not look good on you


I learned something about myself today.

I’m desperate.

Desperation does not make for a pretty me.  Seriously.  I hate it.  I hate feeling like my life is lost and out of control.  Why am I desperate?    Good freakin’ question.

You see, I have a very, VERY (I hate that word.  It’s a lazy way to express yourself, but I digress,) hard time accepting help, and I certainly don’t ask for it.  Why should I?  I grew up with the adage “if you need help, ask.  If you don’t- prove it.”  Well, I’m always out to prove I don’t need help.

So, what is making me so desperate?

Well, it’s need and it usually revolves around money.  You see, my ex-husband isn’t paying his court ordered child support like he’s supposed to.  Suffice it to say, he’s over $14,000 in debt to me.    That’s a lot of money.  I put that into terms my kids can understand and it basically equated to a month in Disney World parks.  Or, in terms my girls really get: over 1,400 American Girl Dolls.  Or a new car.  Or a house with land bought out-right in some parts of Oklahoma or Kentucky, or….  You get my point.  It would literally pay off a huge chunk of our debt.

Not only do I have that, my next door neighbor’s tree fell and destroyed the roof of part of my house.

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Our foundation is in desperate (ha! there’s that word again) need of repair, our AC quit -great for South Alabama in the summer with a 3 month old- and I’m supposed to be planning a wedding.  Post on that one later.
Whining.  Whining and desperation.  Worry.  None of these look good on people.

I didn’t tell you everything above to make you feel sorry for me, or feel guilty; you have no obligation to either.  We all have problems.  Yours may be greater than mine.  I posted it to show you that I am desperate and focusing on them- and this is what I learned about myself.

When you focus on what’s directly in front of you, you don’t see what’s up ahead.  Think of it like this:  when you’re driving down a highway and there are line breaks where you can change lanes, do you focus on the next line, and the next one and next one as you drive, or do you look further ahead to a point and make mental adjustments as needed?

When I drive, I tend to look further down the road.  And while I may not see my destination immediately, I can see my next move.  Where I’m going next.  What I’ll do at the next crossroads.  Just focus on the next solution in front of you.

So, back to my situation- I have about a $40,000 need between everything right now, so I’m not only laying it at Christ’s feet (God is our provider in all situations) but I’m also actively seeking how I can fix my situation.  Yes, God provides, but he gives us the tools so that we can help ourselves.  The bible has a parable about this.  Proverbs 6:6-11

Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise:

Which having no guide, overseer, or ruler,

Provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.

How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep?

10 Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep:

11 So shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man.

What I take away from this in my situation is stop being lazy, go do what you need to do to make things right so that when the time comes you will have what you need.  Stop waiting for other people to make it right for you, and go start your own business work diligently, AND smartly (two key words there!) and go take care of what you need to.

Now, a business may not be right for you, but I’ll tell you what, I’d rather work 80+ hours a week for myself and my family than give it to someone else for an amount of money they deem fit for the job while spending that time away from my children.

I’m going to wrap it up here, and will keep you all updated about how I got things going and how I am taking care of what I need to.

Be blessed!

Finding Joy in the Everyday.

finding joy in the everyday

“Mama?  Where do baby bees come from?”  Elli’s inquisitive mind always wants to know where something comes from, or where it’s going or where her next thought is coming from.

“I like flowers, mama.”
“Pink ith my fav-o-wit color.”
“Daddy ith my hero, mama.  Becauth he’th tall and ‘mart and ‘trong.”

Being a mom will make you simultaneously smile and pull your hair out, but wallowing in the first will definitely make you miss out on the other.  It’s not always a bad thing, but focusing on the “why” usually steals our joy.  Don’t try to understand the way children think.

“Why did you put peanut butter on the cat’s paws?!”
“So she can eat when we go out.”
“You’re only going out to play on the slip n slide!”
“I know.”

Kid logic.

But I’ve found there is joy to be found in the everyday things.  Yes, there are days they make messes faster than tornadoes and do a little more damage than one too!  But those are honestly the days I am typically found smiling the most.

But why?  I would go nuts with all that mess….
Yeah, some days I do.  Ask anyone know knows me in real life- I try to be a good homemaker.  Try being the key word, but if I lost my mind to worrying about what the neighbors thought about my home constantly, I’d be a miserable soul indeed.

Since that’s the case, I’d rather focus on the things that bring me joy.

Like the sunshine in Ziva’s hair that makes it look like Rumpelstiltskin himself grew it for her.  Or the way Judah can  say something and make me laugh at just the right time with either a nerd reference or just something funny.  Like when we were at Cracker Barrel and Charlie ordered a chocolate milk for Nate and said “chocolate milk for the little one” and before he could take a breath again, Judah said “Chocolate milk for the big one, too!” while pointing at himself.  He was 6 at the time.  He’s a funny kid.

Or the joy when Chavi smiles up at me while nursing, milk drooling out of her mouth and no matter what I’m doing, feeding her forces me to slow down and take my time and really see her.

Abi’s soft, sweet nature wanting to sit next to me on the swing to hear me sing her favorite song.  (I modified Dumbo’s song to say “Abi, mine” instead of “baby, mine”.)

Zoe’s joking with me and getting more adult humor and while part of that breaks my heart, I seek the joy in her growing older.  She is becoming more independent and in it comes joys of their own.

I find joy in the horrible jokes that Nate tells, trying so desperately to be funny.  Or that, he’d rather pick a weed that has a flower on it to give to me.  Actually, he has started a rock collection for me- every time he finds one, he’ll give it to me.  He does the same with shells.  It’s a wonderful thing that he only does with me.  I find joy that he picked up a rock and instead of getting rid of it, he chooses to think of me.  To me, that is the most joyful thing of all.

I challenge you, dear ones, to find joy in something today.  A flower growing in adversity- heck yeah, concrete!-  A dog’s quirky look.  A child’s touch wanting to learn your ways.

Until next time.

When You Hate Being a Mom Pt. 2

When You Hate Being a Mom Pt. 2


It’s intense business when you pour out your heart in your blog.  It’s hard.  It’s raw.  It opens up feelings that you didn’t think you’d feel and then you wonder are you being too vulnerable, so you think you should pull back- but then you wonder if that actually helps anyone, so you don’t.  And you leave it out there for the world to view, praying that you’re ok.

Yesterday’s post was really hard for me to write.  Of course, I had to write this follow-up.

I wanted to keep going with my thoughts.  No, not the guilt-laden, “omg, my drudgery will never end” thoughts, but how I help myself deal with them.  Let me preface this with this:

I am NO WHERE NEAR where I want to be as a parent.  I want to be a better mom by leaps and bounds.  I struggle, sometimes daily, particularly with depression and anxiety and feelings of incompetency.  There is so much that I want to do and so much I want to be for my children.  This is how I cope.  If you are struggling with any of the aforementioned problems, I beg you- please, talk to someone who won’t judge you.  Let them know and work on a plan to get through it.  I don’t want to give you the (very) false impression that I’m some sort of Sister Superchristian who has her crap together.  No where near that chick.

“My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.”  -PS 121:2

Ok, great, Heather.  You mentioned that yesterday.  So?  What help?  This isn’t one of those “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” crap blogs, is it?

Ha, no!  Sweetcheeks, God gives you WAY more than you can handle so you can learn to rely and trust in him.  True story.  Right now, my ex husband is over $14,000 behind in child support.  I’m trusting in God to help me get through this, considering I was just let go from work (after having a baby and not coming back fast enough.  For the record, she’s not yet 4 months old).    They said I’d have a job when I wanted to come back, but the logistics of being able to feed her is something I have to work out.  Oh, and my husband retires next year from the Army and will be in school full time.  All I can do is trust that God had our backs and will provide for us.  And I can plan ahead like an ant for winter.

Ok, but how do you renew yourself?  How do you not blow your top when you’re in the bathroom with the kids banging on the door like they’re The Walking Dead extras?  Honestly, I grab a cup of coffee (shocker, I know.) and I sit on my front porch under my ceiling fan and on my swing, and I crack open my bible to a few choice scriptures.

Isaiah 40:31 for starters.  “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”

Cool.  Translation?    It’s not in our timing, but God’s and when we realize that we can’t make everything happen when we want but when we wait in God’s timing, we won’t wear ourselves out.  When we as children obey our parents, we would get good things- the same principle is here.

I also go to the part in Luke about Martha and Mary and Martha’s decision on what is most important.  There are times (often, who am I trying to kid here?) that I get bogged down in the things that I have to do, and things that “have” to get done, that I don’t see the forest for the trees.  I don’t take the time to listen to Nate tell me the difference between a therapod and a sauropod and why the Jurassic differed from the Triassic or the Cretaceous  (no really- he’s known that since he was 3!) or how Ziva’s hair sparkles like golden threads in the sunlight.  All because I’m more concerned with the dishes, or laundry or scrubbing the floor.

Now, I’m not saying they’re not important things to do, but are they MORE important in this moment?

I can’t tell you how much I can’t stand hearing the same story repeated about how Sofia the First has a talking bunny or how all the horses in Equestria just LOVE Princess Celestia and they want to go to Ponyville to be with Twilight Sparkle.  Now, I love their imaginations and I want to be a part of that.  Not at the expense of my sanity, though.

But back to Martha and Mary.  Jesus told Martha that she was too attentive to details that don’t matter.  What mattered was listening to him and taking it in.  Everything else would get done.  And of course they did.

But that brings me to another point about moms (and I KNOW I’m not the only one here that does it!).  Guys- er, girls in this case- we can NOT over-schedule ourselves.  We will only screw ourselves in the end.  Show of hands- who else feels like a failure when you don’t get your entire impossible list of things done?  No?  Just me?  Riiight.

Ladies hear this now and please- take it to heart.

YOU WILL NEVER BE EVERYTHING TO EVERYONE AT ALL TIMES OF THE DAY.  Did you hear me?  You can’t.  You’re not designed that way and that’s why you feel the way you feel.

So my suggestion to us women is stop trying to make ourselves crazy and just rest.  There really is something to be said for rest.  It’s healing.  If you break your arm, you have to rest it so it can be used once it fixes itself.  It’s the same with our spirit.  We can’t just “walk it off”, we need to rest and care for ourselves.

Maybe we won’t hate motherhood so much if we didn’t try to do everything on our own the way our current society expects us to.

Until next time, Dearies.

When You Hate Being a Mom

When you hate being a mom


Full disclosure:  this post is hard as hell for me to write.  But I get it.  I get it so. frigging. much.  This post isn’t designed to the perfect Susie Homemaker, wakes her children with harp music she composed herself and never has a problem.  To the Stepford mothers- I envy you, but this isn’t for you.

You see, I have had so many miscarriages.  Each one I lost was a human being.  A life.  My offspring.  My child.  A beautiful gift that was fearfully and wonderfully made.  A perfect little person that was wanted.  Someone I had loved since I saw that 2nd little pink line.  Someone who had already sewn themselves onto my heart.

And then they weren’t there.

Our society dismisses that aspect of motherhood because it’s uncomfortable.  That loss is always dismissed with placating words of “well, you can always try again,” or “everything happens for a reason,”  (I always fantasized about punching people in the face when they’d say that to me.)

But then, by some miracle you carry a baby to full term.  And you are joyful and up long nights, and even longer days.  You have no idea what to expect.  You get through the initial pain of breastfeeding, or the stress of bottle feeding, and they grow, and smile and you think “psssh!  I got this parenting thing down!  No sweat!” and it’s wonderful and you are absolutely in lala land because you have no idea what looms ahead.

You smile lovingly at tantrums your child throws dismissing it as developmental and “their need to express themselves” and you take in stride all of the ..ahem.. “advice” thrown your way and you keep plugging away.

And then one day you realize something.  You absolutely hate it.  You hate the anxiety, the worry, the one-more’s.  You know what I mean, there’s always one more.  One more diaper, one more sippy cup you didn’t get a chance to wash, one more load of laundry, one more eye roll, one more “NO!” screamed in your face as if you’re the worst person to ever exist.

I hate it.  There are aspects of motherhood that I hate.  I hate the times when we’re late and we are running out the door and the twins can’t find their shoes… again.  If only I had a special place they could put them every. Single. Time. they take them off.  (shoe rack by the front door, btw.)

I hate when we’re grocery shopping and of course everyone has to pee… in rapid succession, instead of all at once.  because 39 seconds ago when everyone was asked and we were standing right by the bathrooms, no one had to go.    I hate when they slap each other or play too rough, or fight with me, or a million other things.

Yes ladies- I get you.  I get your emotions.  I get that you just want to check out of motherhood.

If there were a magic pill we could either take or give to them to be the kids that we think they should be, I’m pretty sure 99.99% of us would have done it by now.  And of course, this is where I feel guilty.  Guilty for being human.  Guilty for having the feelings I have knowing that I have children I’ve never met because of their untimely death before their birth.  Guilty because I don’t want my children feeling they’re not good enough for me.

So, I plug away at my daily life.  But how do I do it without becoming bitter?  So often we feel more like a slave to our household and our families than we do the one to be the queen; the guider; the loving protector that we are called to be.  And it’s ok to feel that way.

I am currently in a season of tantrums (from the little ones) and backtalk from the older ones.  Now, I’m not going to dismiss it as “oh well, that’s just them expressing themselves”.  No.  Right this very second Abi is having a meltdown because she can’t be on the kindle.  (It’s a kid’s tablet that is on our cell phone plan.)  She is screaming at levels that I’m fairly certain I’m going to have to watch out for the police as my neighbors will likely have called due to the sounds of torture that I’m surely doing… it’s just her screeching to get her electronic fix like I’m her Wifi dealer or something.

Zoe just decided to yell at me to my face, though we just paid $250 so she can cheer- paid it yesterday, for her uniform, registration, and all her accessories.  Don’t you just love pre-teens who think they’re on the same level as adults and can get away with talking to me as though I’m her housemate instead of her mother?

Yeah, truthfully, I am exhausted from motherhood right now.

We moms are supposed to be wonder women.  Particularly in this “I can do it all” age that we live in.  We have more conveniences than we’ve ever had and less time to do anything.  Seriously, it’s been a while since I beat my clothes against a rock down in the river to get them clean, how about you?  No, I have a dishwasher, a laundry washing machine (and dryer!) an automatic electric stove, crockpots, coffee pots, etc.  I have conveniences that women of the Bible only dreamed about, but I also have something else they didn’t have.

I have the disconnect of community performing the exact same tasks and the feeling that we will never get it all done because we don’t have a way to join together during that time.

Used to be that women did their chores in groups.  We’d have “servant girls” to help.  We’d be able to teach our daughters our way of life and show them.  Now, we not only have a million and one (ok, slight exaggeration) labor saving devices, but we also have a disconnect of the things we have to do.  So, because we can throw a load of laundry in a machine to have it do our washing for us, we assume that that time that we’d usually take to do it can be spent doing something else.  And we’re right.

But I’m starting to get off track…  My point of this was that we as moms tend to hate being moms because of all of the demands on us daily.  Yes, it gets overwhelming and that sucks.  But my God is a big God.  In fact, he’s bigger than any problem I’ve ever faced.

Motherhood is one of the most complex things that we will ever do.  It’s hard.  It’s nuanced.  It’s so subtle and detailed at the same time that we become exhausted from it on a daily basis.  (Poor Abi.  I have chanted to her “Mommy’s not here, she’s working” about 100 times while she’s whining at me for a little bit of attention.  Great.  More guilt.)  But there is help.

Wait, hold the phone- what did you say, Heather?

There’s help.  And it may not be how you expect.  Psalms 121:2 (KJV) says “My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.”

The entire universe.  Everything in it.  Everything that ever was or ever will be, and God felt it right to make you and put you in place so that you would be your children’s mother.  He cared enough to make me fit to both bring forth and nurture and raise up and guide 7 children- what makes me think He doesn’t care about me enough to help me with the task of raising my children?  God wants to help me in whatever situation I’m in and if that means I’m in my overly-exhausted, end-of-my-rope point with my children, I only need to call on Him for help.

I think I’m going to stop it here, but I’m going to touch more on this later.  There is definitely something to be said for rest and refilling yourself.  Because you can’t feed your family from an empty pot.

With love, Dearies.