This is How We Do It: Meal Planning and Grocery Shopping

This post is a bit of a departure for me; I don't often blog about the practical parts of what I do, mostly because I've always felt like I'm not that good at the practical parts of my "job." At least the parts that have to do with organization and planning. But my friends Lori and Ashley are hosting a link-up, and I thought it would be fun to share ideas and encourage one another.

Historically, I've been a "fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants" type when it comes to meal planning (well, actually when it came to a lot of things). My approach was a mixture of keeping staples on hand that I knew I could make a meal with and sometimes making a grocery list as I wandered the aisles of Target or Joe Caputo's. It mostly worked for us, but I found myself having to run to the grocery store a lot for missing ingredients. This was annoying, but we could do it.

But a couple of things have changed in my life.

1. We now have four kids, and it's no longer as easy to load up and run errands all the time.

2. We started homeschooling, which means I don't have as much flexibility in my day as I used to have. Because you know, they have to be learning stuff.

All that said, we needed more of an organized plan.

I am a big believer in checklists. In fact, we have checklists for lots of things around here. I'm not sure if it's seven years of sleep deprivation or ADHD, but my ability to forget things is astonishing.

For a while, I used an app called paperless for grocery shopping. It allows you to create reusable checklists. The benefit to this system was that I virtually never lost my grocery list. The downside is that I could only sort grocery lists alphabetically, which meant I was often wandering all over the store. In the end, I discovered that I'm more of a paper-and-pencil girl when it comes to planning, so a few months ago I made an excel document that has almost all the things we buy regularly, including food, household, and toiletry items, sorted by category.

Now I leave one of these in my notebook-that-holds-my-life (aka homeschool planner) all week, noting the things we are running out of. Then at the end of the week, I sit down and fill in meals for the following week, and go through my checklist, highlighting the things we need for those meals.

I don't tend to plan specifically for breakfasts, snacks, and lunches. I just have a list of things we typically eat, and how much of those things we go through each week (for instance, I know that we need 3 dozen eggs, 2 big bags of frozen fruit, 3 loaves of bread, 3 quarts of yogurt, etc. )

For me one of the benefits of doing it this way instead of on my phone is that I don't feel like I spend all my time scrolling. I am able to see at a glance almost everything I buy, and I just highlight the items I need (I color-code by store).

Then I take my trusty clipboard (yes, I know) to the store and get shopping. I tend to grocery shop on Saturdays, because we are homeschooling all week and even though our mornings are somewhat flexible, it's almost impossible for errands not to completely derail our day.

Also, as fun as this is:

Things just go faster if I'm by myself.

The half-hour of planning I do at the beginning of the week helps things run so much more smoothly throughout the week. I'm not running out of things all the time, making last minute trips to the store, or buying a lot of food I don't need. It also saves money because the less I go to Target, the less this happens:

Most importantly, it helps me love my kids better, because, let's face it, they don't love the grocery store, and time is a very limited commodity these days. I'd rather be reading to them or going to the park instead of running to the store 3 or 4 times a week because mommy is forgetful.

And that, my friends, is how we do it. :)

***

If you'd like a copy of my grocery checklist, feel free to grab it here. I left it an excel file so you could edit it for your own purposes. 

Today He Has Delivered Me

Often when I am up in the night rocking my wee ones, a word comes to me. It hangs over me, stirs up anger or despair, steals my hope, and follows me into the next day:

Impossible.

In these moments, I'm tempted to shake my fist at God for how hard this is. Because these years of mothering little ones have been years of joy, but also of loneliness, exhaustion, and longing.

Over the summer, I just felt raw. I was unusually emotional, and even little setbacks felt huge. I was losing my temper with my kids and struggling with anxiety in a way I hadn't in a long time.

I found myself complaining a lot when people asked how I was. Last night was rough. I am tired. I am burnt out.

I was being honest. I was being authentic.

I was being that mopey person no one wants to be around.

So I started reading the Psalms. And they are honest about how hard life is, but they talk a lot about who God is and how He hears us and how He delivers us. And as I read, I was reminded of the hundreds of ways he has delivered me when my strength was spent and my emotions gave way.

And then I read this:

I have told the glad news of deliverance in the great congregation; behold, I have not restrained my lips, as you know, O LORD.
I have not hidden your deliverance within my heart; I have spoken of your faithfulness and your salvation; I have not concealed your steadfast love and your faithfulness from the great congregation. (Psalm 40:9-10)

I was convicted, because although life is exhausting and difficult, God is ever faithful. And that is why honesty and authenticity are beautiful. I can say, "I'm struggling, and God is holding me up." That is his power made perfect in weakness. That puts praise on my lips and the lips of the saints, because it reminds us of God's character and his faithfulness to his people.

So I will say, today he has delivered me. Tomorrow, he will again. He is my help when this task feels impossible. He is strong, He is near, and He is good.

The Places Where I Sow

I have a small garden. We are growing tomatoes and peppers and strawberries. I had dreams of a kitchen garden, but Daniel thought we should prove ourselves on a few plants first. It's good because I'm a terrible gardener. The whole thing has gone wild. I never staked our tomatoes, and now they are heavy with fruit and splayed across the whole business, overshadowing our poor berries. I forget to water. Even so, we have a few heirloom tomatoes to show for our meager efforts.

This garden, it is enough. I think it is only really alive because the kids enjoy watering it (and each other, coincidentally). If it were solely under my care, it would probably be dead already because the only things I feed in this house are the things that ask to be fed. Loudly.

I can't do many things well right now. My world has shrunk down to my own little house and my own little people. It's hard for me, because I dream big. I want to start ministries and learn to counsel and walk with the hurting and host a community group. I want to fill every need I see. I often forget that I am a limited person in a very demanding stage of life.

Truth is, I haven't the capacity to start a ministry, host a community group, or (sadly) even be part of one. I can, however, do the things I'm passionate about in smaller, deeper ways. I can faithfully and sacrificially love my kids. I can open my door for a friend or a neighbor. I can share a cup of tea in the midst of Legos and broken crayons and cries of "Mama!" I can send texts of encouragement to friends and arrow prayers to Jesus. I can rejoice with good friends around a table while our kids run wild in the backyard. All of this is ministry. And all of it happens in and around what God has me doing in my own home.

What I'm finding is that often the most important things I do appear to be the smallest. And ministry often looks like faithfulness in my own little garden.

So I try to love my littles and my neighbors, and I trust that God will bring a harvest in the small places where I sow.

Dear Tired Mama,

These little years can be brutal. Wonderfully, amazingly, joyfully brutal. And you're in the middle of them.

Maybe people keep telling this is just a season. But from where you sit, it seems like a very long one. You're exhausted, so exhausted, from rocking sleepless babes or teething toddlers, and laying your own desires down every single day.

I'm with you.

Your kids are blessings. And when you finally go to bed at night, you think about how beautiful and funny and affectionate and creative and busy they are. You remember the beauty of the little souls in your care. And then they rouse you from your sleep and you stumble around the house and through the next day and you try to serve them and you try to remember, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed and frustrated. It’s easy to feel like the work you do amounts to nothing.

But Mama, let me tell you: what you are doing is important. Your children are eternal souls. God has entrusted them to you. Your work may seem small and insignificant. And in the world’s calculus, the wiping of noses and bottoms, the soothing of frightened wee ones, the speaking of truth into their young hearts, might be. But remember: though your work may be small in breadth, it is deep, and it is not insignificant. Your kids need you, and nothing is more significant to them than you loving them, teaching them, and showing them grace.

And there is grace for you too. The toil of mothering will pull the sin latent in your heart to the surface. It’s an ugly, painful process. Trust that God knew about that sin before it spilled out into your interactions with your kids and husband. Trust that if you are His child, the cross of Christ is enough to cover your failings as a mother. Trust that He loves you and He is allowing these weary days to bring that sin to the surface so that, over a lifetime, he can finish the work he started in you.

And He is at work. Even when your screaming infant won’t let you attend a church service. Even when quiet times are hard to come by. Even when you had no idea you could be so tired and still be alive. He’s with you, and He’s for you. He will use this difficulty to draw you to himself. He is relentless, and he is working it for your ultimate good.

So don't give up. Ask for strength when yours is spent. He has promised a harvest for your sowing if you endure. And don’t waste the difficulty. Let it have its full effect. Let it push you into his presence. Let it drive you to the throne of grace, where you will find help in your time of need. Let it sanctify you, and draw you into His grace.

Don’t give up, Mama. Don’t give up.

Love,

Another Tired Mama

Train Wrecks and Triumphs

Yesterday was a total train wreck.

Yesterday we did our devotions through tears of frustration.

Yesterday Ava announced halfway to the doctor's office that she hadn't had time to put on her shoes.

She went sock-footed in twenty-degree weather.

Yesterday the kids bent the blinds, fought over the magna doodle, and generally acted like circus monkeys while I tried to talk to the pediatrician. Even though we had a talk before she came in.

Only one injury, thankfully.

Yesterday they had the word 'destroy' etched in their brains.

Yesterday I wanted to quit. I lost my cool. I was annoyed by everything.

Yesterday I apologized.

Today was better.

Today we went to library story time. We got books about art and diggers and (you guessed it) princesses.

What would we do without princesses?

Today we made fairy hats and dinner. We read about Edgar Degas and Rosa Parks and Mr. Putter and Tabby writing a book.

Today, even though the house is in shambles, this task feels sort of possible.

Today the Lord granted me the grace to laugh at the days to come. In that nervous sort of way.

Today I was reminded that God doesn't love me more than he did yesterday, when I was angry and hopeless and depressed. And he won't love me any less tomorrow if I am again.

And tomorrow, come train wreck or triumph, his mercies will be new, and I will need them.

Shepherding Minds and Hearts

In just about every education class I took, I was required to write a philosophy of education. I don't even remember what was in my philosophy of education, but at best, it was naive.
 

I found that being in the classroom helped to develop my philosophy more than any education class ever did. Maybe that's backwards, but there are things you can't quite appreciate when you live in the realm of the theoretical.
 

The same has been true of homeschooling. There have been plenty of hard things about starting right now, having three younger children chief among them. One of the blessings, though, is that kindergarten really requires very little. This has given me time and space to figure out what I actually believe about education. As a result, I think we have worked our way into a philosophy of education, or at least a dream of what learning could be.

Here is what we are coming to believe:

Learning should breed fascination. Children are wired to wonder. It seems to me we often hammer this out of them in a more formal setting. Sit there! Do this worksheet! Tell me the answer! Take this test! I want them to learn the fundamentals, but I also I want them to learn to appreciate beauty, to pursue what fascinates them, to wonder at the world God has made and the people he put in it. It seems to me that a good education finds a way to lay the necessary foundation and to allow a child to do what a child does best: wonder, investigate, ask, and dream.

Learning ought to be enjoyable. Not everything that everything we do has to be fun. Math facts will be learned. Words will be sounded out. Sentences will be diagrammed. They probably won't like all of it. Even so, I want there to be plenty of fun built into our schooling. Some of the most rewarding moments this year have involved an activity based on a book we read together. We made a quilted pillow from family fabric scraps when we studied The Rag Coat. We went to the Caterpillar museum in Peoria and played with the excavator simulator when we read Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel. There is an igloo going up in my backyard because we just read The Very Last First Time. We won't always be able to do so many activities, but it's been an enjoyable and learning-filled way to start our homeschooling journey. I hope we continue to enjoy our learning along the way.

A love of learning is very closely connected to a love of reading. My kids have learned so much this year just by reading good books. We've learned about topics ranging from robots to butterflies, from rocks to Arctic migration, from tide pools to the Statue of Liberty. Ava's been particularly interested in learning about people in history, and we've gotten great biographies of people like Pocahontas, Harriet Tubman, Abraham Lincoln, the Wright Brothers, and Nellie Bly. We are all of us learning to be intrigued.

They ought to be building a foundation now that helps them to learn to think critically. There will be a lot of memorization at this point in their academic careers, and to be honest, they like it. They are good at it. In addition to that, though, I want to begin training them to think critically and solve problems.

Learning involves taking risks. Risks are a central part of the learning process. I don't want my kids to be afraid of them. If they are afraid to attempt something because they might fail, they will stunt their growth. I know; I did it. I want to create an environment where risk is ok. There's not a lot riding on whether or not they sound out a word incorrectly or write their sixes backwards. We gently correct errors as they happen and we move on. I assess them every day, in every activity we do. I respond to their needs and encourage them as they need it. I don't have to test them, and it's such a relief for school not to be about that.

Book learning shouldn't be all they do. Imaginative play, Legos, playing with your baby sister, and helping around the house are all important. Homeschooling isn't only about academics; it's about shepherding my kids when they are learning to read and when they're fighting with each other and when they are trying to give up because I've asked them to do something hard. All of it's important. It's about who they are becoming.

I think all of this most closely aligns me with a literature-based (specifically a Charlotte Mason) approach. Reading an explanation of the method, I found myself thinking: this is us. The focus on reading, the time in nature, appreciation for art and music--it's what I want for our kids. I think they'll enjoy it.

I'm thinking of using Ambleside Online for curriculum next year. We've been using Five in a Row, which we have enjoyed immensely, but it is unit-study based, which makes learning a bit more scattershot than I would like it to be long term. Ambleside seems to be a solid curriculum, and as an added bonus, it's free (other than buying the books/paying the library fines). We will adapt it; I still want to use Singapore Math and perhaps add a history or science curriculum. We will probably still use our own bible study materials. But I'm excited to have found something that fits so well with who we are as a family and as learners (and yes, I count myself as one of the learners!).

And this is who we are: we care about rigor, but more than that, we care about the child. We want them to be creative and playful and interested in God's world. We want them to have a beautiful education, one that will let them be children and fill them with the love of learning. Most of all, we want to shepherd well their minds and their hearts.

Jesus in the Nitty Gritty

I think parenthood, and perhaps motherhood in particular, will make an introvert of anyone.

I'm really not sure where I fall on the introvert-extrovert continuum. I'm not so introverted as my husband, who might not realize he was stranded alone on a desert island if he had a stack of books. Neither am I as extroverted as my daughter, whose ability to work a room is rivaled only by politicians and con-men.

What I do know is at the end of the day, I am worn out by the constant grasping of my little ones. I am exhausted by what one of my favorite writers, Tony Woodlief, has called "the imposing physicality of a child."

Don't get me wrong: I love a good snuggle. I love the gentle weight of a wee babe sleeping on my chest. I love when I get my children up from their naps and hug me tightly about the neck. I even love when one of them climbs into bed with me in the middle of the night. But me versus all four of them all day sometimes feels like a blitz without an offensive line.

A typical day finds them tackling, grasping, and demanding. Even the relative peace of story time quickly descends into a wrestling match as they each clamber for their own spot in my lap. My days are wrought with physicality and need.

It's exhausting to be needed. It drives me into myself. I retreat when I should engage. I get selfish with my time, and impatient with their neediness. I feel overwhelmed and anxious.

Scripture tells me that Jesus understands my fleshly struggles. Hebrews 4:15-16 assures me that "we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." So Jesus gets it. He's been here.

Still I'm tempted to ask: what does Jesus know of being a mother?

But the more I think on it, the more I see that he knows what it is to be imposed upon. Looking at his ministry, I can understand why he needed to get away to pray. Remember the woman who reached out to touch the hem of his garment? The men that cut a hole in the roof to get their paralyzed friend to Jesus? The crowds that pushed in on him, demanding healing and food? He knows what it is to pour himself out, even unto death.

Still, Jesus had compassion on the people. They were like sheep without a shepherd. He didn't respond sinfully. He didn't get annoyed or anxious. He loved them. So I should do that, right?

To be sure, I should try to be a more patient and less anxious. I should love my kids sacrificially. But it struck me the other day: this verse doesn't say he's my example. He is, but it doesn't say that. It says he's my priest. A priest makes atonement for the people so they can come into God's presence. Because he was tempted in every way I am, yet was without sin, I can come to him and find mercy. His obedience when faced with temptation and his sacrifice on the cross bought me access to the throne of grace. It covers my impatience, my passiveness, my anxiousness. And it gives me confidence to ask for help. He promises meet me in my struggles to love my kids well and empower my obedience. He has walked among us needy souls. He knows.

Really, when it comes down to it, I am just a needy child lifting my arms to my Savior. He doesn't rebuke my neediness, but instead invites it. I can come, confident I will receive mercy for my failures and help when I ask. This is the gospel for the nitty gritty everyday.

He is My Enough

Today, the graham cracker crumbs have won. There are Legos scattered around the kitchen, tiny land mines waiting for unsuspecting feet. A load of laundry sits in the dryer for the third day, waiting to be folded and put away. The kids are happily sorting crayons into muffin tins by color, and I am feeling overwhelmed.

I expect things to be going better. I think that's my problem. I would like to get up early, have my quiet time, take a shower, do some housework. I would like to have a routine for the kids and myself that has us learning and crafting and not wearing pjs at noon. I would like to eat lunch.

Instead, I'm exhausted. I sleep like a vagrant--in the bed of a teething toddler, in the guest room with the baby, in my own bed, whispering soothing dreams and prayers over a frightened child. In the morning, I wake to sweet footsteps headed for my bed. I stumble through the day, feed them when they're hungry, read them stories, try to show them how very much I love them. I try not to lose my patience with their questions and demands. And every day I am reminded that my efforts will never be enough.

This is motherhood. It's different than I expected. It is beautiful and joyful and very, very hard. I'm a finite and sinful mom struggling with a task that's too big for me. I am not enough. I was never meant to be. But I know the One who is, and He fills in my not enough and makes it overflow. It brings him glory to do so.

I need to be reminded to rest in grace, and my kids need to grow up knowing that I'm not the one who holds it all together. Looking back, I want them to know that I loved Jesus and I loved them and that I offered up the broken pieces of my efforts and my life to the One who made it enough. So perhaps it is better for me to be confronted with my inadequacy each day. Perhaps it's better that I spend my days battling graham cracker crumbs and never-ending piles of laundry and my own selfish heart. It is better that I know that He is my enough.

Thoughts on Homeschooling

I want to begin this by saying that I do not think that homeschooling is the only valid option when it comes to educating children. So many throw stones about this kind of thing; I don't want to be among them. If I'm honest, homeschooling would probably not have been my ideal. I would have loved to put Ava in a nurturing, challenging private school where the gospel was before her every day, because she would love it and it would be easier. But our budget can't support that (especially when all four kids are in school), so homeschooling seemed to be the right fit for our family.

Even though homeschooling was an unexpected destination for me, I really love it. I am a trained educator who taught in a public school, so I have some opinions about how things should be done, and some social and academic scenarios I'd rather not see played out in my kids' lives. Homeschooling gives me the opportunity to make their education what I think it should be.

We've been at this for a few months, so I thought it a good time to reflect on why we're doing this, what's hard, and how I see my children learning and growing. Also, since homeschooling is still a bit of a cultural oddity, people express a fair amount of curiosity about it. How is it going? How do you do it with three other kids? What do you do all day? Are you weird?

So here are some of my thoughts after a semester or so of homeschooling:

The why: When Daniel and I were discussing school options, we asked ourselves what would be best for our kids first spiritually and next academically. I will say that it has never been our goal as parents to control the externals so that we can produce "good kids" that won't get themselves into trouble. It is our goal to point them toward repentance and an inward heart change that results in outward change. This is tricky, because inward heart change is the work of the Holy Spirit, but we certainly have a role to play as parents. God gave us the primary responsibility of raising our kids, and at the very least if we entrusted some of that task to someone else we wanted to trust that we would be supported in our work as parents. In these years, our children are so vulnerable and impressionable, and we want to be the primary influence in their lives. And while they have some measure of faith, we personally felt that we wanted to be more confident that Jesus had their hearts before we considered public school. We did not want to send them into a battle for which they are unprepared. They will, of course, have more exposure to the world as they grow and mature, but we want to help equip them for that by showing them how to love and engage people who don't know Jesus in the safety of our own home. Given all this, public school didn't seem like a good option for us at this time. And since private school is out of reach for us financially, homeschooling was the logical choice.

Academically, we had some very general goals for them. We want them to stay creative, imaginative, and curious. We want them to be able to solve problems and communicate well. And we want them to love to to learn. These are stated goals almost everywhere. I'm not sure anyone really knows how to go about achieving them. Do I think I'm going to do it perfectly?  By no means. Do I think I'm probably better suited to it than my local public school? Absolutely.

How: An article I read about the first year of homeschooling advised: let this be the year you figure it out. It's good advice. I'm trying to keep things simple this year and not get too upset if all the things I have planned don't get done. Mostly, I want my kids to love to learn. When I get discouraged and overwhelmed, I keep reminding myself that if we succeed in that this year, we will be doing well.

What we're doing: I started teaching Ava to read in the spring using a basic phonics curriculum. She had been showing signs of reading readiness for a while, and I figured if we could get her reading before the baby arrived it would take some of the pressure off of our first year of homeschooling. We start every school day with Long Story Short, a biblical theology devotional for families that goes through the whole Old Testament. Having a consistent devotional time with them is one of my favorite things about homeschooling. I also ordered Singapore Kindergarten Math, which the kids love. For fun, I bought a used set of Five in a Row curricula, which are unit studies based on classic kids' literature. I figured this would serve as a jumping off point for reading good books. My sister-in-law used this curriculum and recommended it, and since my kids already love to read, it is making for an easier transition to formal schooling. Other than that, Ava goes to an enrichment program once a week (which she loves), and I do a letter/number a week with Timmy for preschool.

Surprises: Speaking of Tim, it has surprised me how much he has tagged along with Ava. He just started phonics, but he's doing the same math as Ava, and does all of our unit studies with us.

A month of two ago, he randomly announced: "I want to learn about the rainforest!" So by golly, we went to the library and got some books about the rainforest. It got me thinking: why not build that into our school week? There are plenty of things that I plan for them, but I love letting them have some room for self-directed learning. I think that's what really counts when it comes to developing lifelong learners: engaging their natural curiosity and helping them learn to how to find out what they want to know. So I do a lot of legwork finding them really interesting books about the things their interested in, be that trains, butterflies, snowflakes, mushrooms, flowers, or robots.

All that makes me a bit of an unschooler, which is a surprise. I suppose it shouldn't be since structure is not my strong suit and, in addition to that, we have a 3-month-old routine buster in our house. As a result, we haven't really established a schedule. We didn't really have a firm start date for school, and I don't really have a firm end date in mind either. We have a general to do list for the day, but we cram the tasks wherever they fit. While I do think they need to learn some basics (reading/math), our attitude has, in general, been "Hey! Let's go to the library and learn some stuff!"

Socialization: I think what people mean when they ask about this is, "Aren't homeschoolers a little weird?" Maybe. I don't know. But one of our prayers for Ava since she was born has been that she would be delightfully different. And anyway, our girl (and boy, for that matter) were born social. Just ask the 100 people they talk to at church on Sunday.

What I love: I love seeing my kids excited about learning, and I love being a part of the process. I love seeing them ask questions like: Where is the Yangtze River? How does an apple grow? What is a moonjelly and why does it glow? How can a quilt tell a story? What's it like to drive an excavator? How can juggling be worship? I love seeing them wonder and be in awe of the intricacies of this world, and I love being here to point them to the God who made it.

Not every minute is not glorious. Most are downright mundane. I feel overwhelmed constantly. I told Daniel the other day that it's like I'm playing whack-a-mole with not enough mallets. Balancing school and taking care of a home and four kids is difficult. I'm sure it won't get easier. But for right now, I believe we are doing what is right for our kids. And yes, I'm weird.

He Bears Me Up.

I looked at this blog the other day, and I realized my last post was right before I was induced with our fourth child. I'm sure all of you are on pins and needles wondering if I had the baby. But since I'm pretty sure that "all of you" is my mom, it's probably okay.

You know when you avoid something for a long time, and then when you want to come back to it, it's completely overwhelming and you feel like it's impossible to get caught up and so you just throw up your hands and feel guilty about it? That. This blog.

So anyway.

We had our baby. A little girl. Her name is Clara. She looked like this:

Then she doubled in size. Now she looks like this:

She's really cute and very sweet. She smiles a lot.

We are now a family of six. We get some interesting comments when we go out, of which my favorite is "Are they all yours?" What does that even mean? Are you asking if I run a daycare? If I brought some neighbor kids along for kicks?

Sometimes I forget that they are all so little. I guess seeing them collectively is overwhelming for people.

Heck, it's overwhelming for me. In some ways, I understand why people say it's not a big deal to have another once you have three. Life goes on. O bla di. We do our normal routine with baby in tow. I'm not so stressed out over the newborn phase. She sleeps when she's tired. She eats when she's hungry. She finds a way to fit into the chaos. In a way, it's old hat. Not that it's easy or less special, because it's not and I really enjoy her. But I don't have the time or energy to stress about the minutiae.

But in other ways, it's completely overwhelming. Everything is harder with a baby in your arms. Making dinner. Keeping a clean house (ha!). Helping a little one onto the potty. Changing a diaper. Disciplining a child. Going to the doctor 30 times since her birth (not an exaggeration).

It all kind of caught up with me yesterday. In late October, Genevieve got her first set of tubes. Yesterday, Timmy got his second set, and his adenoids removed. They both did great, and I think it was the right thing to do. But I realized that I've been going non-stop for a long time, and I am running on fumes. A difficult labor. A fourth child. Scores of doctor's appointments. Homeschooling. Two surgeries. I'm exhausted. It's enough to make me want to cry, "I want my Mommy!" (And Daniel knows, I have).

But in this, I know that God has been with me.  I've been reading the Psalms, and I've repeatedly read that he hears my cries. He answers me. He delivers me.

It seems strange to talk about deliverance when speaking of motherhood; it's not suffering. It's just really, really hard. And emptying. I take so much joy in them, but they need me all day, every day. If I don't remember that I need God's strength for this, all day, every day, I'm going to burn out. I need him to deliver me. Each day, I need new mercies.

So, I find myself all the more thankful that God is with me, holding me up, delivering me. I trust that he knows that this is good for me, and he knows what he is accomplishing in me through this season of weariness. And I echo the Psalmist when he writes, "Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears us up. God is our salvation" (Psalm 69:19). Praise God. He bears me up.