I glanced out my window this morning to check my bird feeders, and my heart sank. Okay, that may be a bit dramatic, but I was definitely discouraged by what I saw. There was a plump gray squirrel hanging by his back legs from the roof of the feeder, happily stuffing its contents into his fat little cheeks and spilling the rest onto the ground below. I just filled that feeder with the last of my 15 pound bag of sunflower seeds two days ago, and now it is empty. Don’t those squirrels know that I bought a “bird feeder” not a “squirrel feeder” ?

But then I stopped to think about it a bit. What is wrong with feeding squirrels? Aside from the fact that they can empty a feeder that would feed the birds for a month in a matter of minutes, they are cute and furry and pretty entertaining to watch. And the seed that they spill doesn’t go to waste. Shortly after the squirrels have had their fill, the doves appear to clean up their mess. And what the doves leave behind, in a few weeks, will grow into a nice patch of sunflowers in my garden.  So why does it anger me so much to see the squirrels? Because it was never my intention to feed squirrels and grow sunflowers.  When I bought the feeder and the huge bag of seed, I envisioned little birds happily flitting about, singing songs of praise to me for providing such a nice place for them to have a snack. The sight of the squirrels is discouraging because it wasn’t a part of my plan.

So much of life is that way. I plan out the future, expecting that if I do A and B, the result will be C. If I buy a feeder and fill it with seeds, the birds will come and eat it. But sometimes the result is not what I want or expect.  How often do I miss out on the unexpected gifts that God is trying to give me because I am frustrated that things aren’t going the way I hoped?

“Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” Proverbs 19:21

A good friend shared this with me years ago, and I thought I would pass it along to all the moms who read this blog. Happy Mother’s Day.

Before I was a Mom -
I slept as late as I wanted and never worried about how late I got into bed. 
I brushed my hair and my teeth everyday.

Before I was a Mom -
I cleaned my house each day.
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn’t worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.

Before I was a Mom -
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Spit on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom -
I never held down a screaming child So that doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom -
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn’t want to put it down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn’t stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom -
I didn’t know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn’t know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn’t know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn’t know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom -
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth,
The joy,
The love,
The heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn’t know I was capable of feeling so much…

before I was a Mom.

Okay, I have a confession. I didn’t read To Kill a Mockingbird in high school. Mrs. Manetta, if you’re reading this, I am desperately sorry. I did skim enough of it to pass the tests, but I didn’t get it because that was my only goal. I think it was the same for a lot of my school reading. I didn’t read for enjoyment, I read because I had to, and consequently I didn’t enjoy what I read most of the time.

So my resolution to read a book a month has found me reading To Kill a Mockingbird, all of my own accord this time. I am only a handful of chapters from the end now. I have to admit I never thought I would find this kind of book funny, but I really do. Aside from the tragic commentary on racism, of course, I have found myself laughing out loud at the author’s descriptions of the world from the point of view of an eight year old tomboy. Here is my favorite so far:

Today was Sunday, and Aunt Alexandra was positively irritable on the Lord’s Day. I guess it was her Sunday corset. She was not fat, but solid, and she chose protective garments that drew up her bosom to giddy heights, pinched in her waist, flared out her rear, and managed to suggest that Aunt Alexandra’s was once an hour-glass figure. From any angle, it was formidable.

I love to read great stories, and this is definitely one of them. It is unfortunate that I’ve missed out on this one for so long, though I doubt that the 15 year old version of myself could have appreciated it.

Poor, poor, little one. I am officially the worst mommy on the planet. In the last 10 days, the baby has fallen on his face twice while he was “helping” me with the yard work. The first time, he fell off one of those little toddler ride-ons and landed on his face in the driveway. The result was a bloody mouth and a pretty fat lip. The second time was worse. Sunday afternoon my husband and I were transplanting some shrubs. I had watched him maneuver his way up and down the front porch steps a few times, but of course, the one time that mattered, I had my back turned. He fell, all the way from the top… thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, crash! Right on his face on the concrete. This time, it was his nose that was bloody. Now he has the imprint of our sidewalk on his nose and forehead and bruising down the side of his nose. I am grateful that his injuries were not much worse. It really is a miracle that nothing was broken. Maybe I’ll reserve the yard work for naptime from now on.

I have been without phone or internet for the last 3 days, a side-effect of my recent landscaping projects. Friday afternoon I cut the phone line when I was digging a flower bed. Yay. Ironically, I uncovered some plastic tape warning that there was a line buried, but it was about 2 feet away from where I hit the line. Oh well. It was a very, very long weekend without my connections to the world. The repair man finally came Monday afternoon, and he was as pleasant as can be. I half expected him to scold me for my carelessness, but he didn’t. I was relieved to see his smiling face because I HATE to be in trouble.

I’ve always been that way. I was always the “good one” at home and “the teacher’s pet” at school. I can count on one hand the times I’ve been scolded by someone, and each incident stands out in my mind like it was yesterday. I can remember in 5th grade, one of my favorite teachers, Mrs. Robichaux, asked me to stay after class to clean erasers. I loved to help out, so I was thrilled to have the job. Well I picked up all the erasers and began to bang them together 2 by two, creating a cloud of chalk dust that filled the room. Mrs. Robichaux gave me a very stern look and said, “what do you think you are doing?” Apparently cleaning erasers was a job to be done outside. I didn’t know. I nearly burst into tears.

What does cleaning erasers have to do with anything? Absolutely nothing.  I’m just glad to be connected to the world again, where I can spill my childhood memories to anyone who cares to read them.

 

 

It is a sad week at our house. Monday morning I found that our bird had died, only a couple weeks after I finally got around to introducing him on this blog. I’m not sure exactly what caused it, but I suspect it had something to do with moving his cage to the window beneath the air conditioning vent. He really was just a baby in parrot years, so we are all shocked and heartbroken. I know there are many out there with the opinion that losing a bird is much like losing a fish or a hamster. But it just isn’t so. He was so full of personality. He wanted to interact with us and spend time with us, and he spent his whole life doing everything he could to steal the spotlight and get everyone’s attention. I feel absolutely awful because I know that most likely this could all have been prevented if I had thought a little more carefully before rearranging furniture.

10. A diet consisting of only Cheerios and milk produces white poop. The latest virus to hit our house took aim at the little one’s appetite. For about 5 days all he ate was Cheerios. And well… now I know.

I didn’t want to write about this. I still don’t. It is far too personal and revealing, and I can’t help but think about all the eyes I will encounter after this is published. But I’ve realized in recent conversations with girlfriends that I am not the only woman struggling with this. Many, if not all, women fight the same battle every month. Yes, I am talking about those dreaded hormonal changes that have become known as PMS. I can already hear what you are thinking… “I can’t believe you are blogging about this!” Seriously, I can’t believe it either.

Busy, busy, busy. Wow what a week. Last spring we spent several weeks removing areas of lawn to make room for new landscaping. We never got around to planting anything because of the drought. So for a year we’ve had these barren areas of our yard with nothing but pinestraw and weeds. Well they’ve finally begun to lift a few of the drought restrictions so we decided to dive headfirst into the planting. I spent most of the last two weeks in the planning phase, then finally Thursday we were able to go buy the plants. We spent every spare minute of the weekend and all day Monday planting. There is still quite a bit of work to be done, but we made some significant progress.

Friday and Saturday night we spent celebrating my 29th birthday. Friday night we went out to dinner with my family. Then Saturday night Eric had a big surprise for me. He told me a month ago that he wanted to celebrate my last “young” birthday doing something I would never forget. Well, he took me and the kids and my mother for a helicopter ride around Atlanta. I was definitely surprised, although I have to admit that I was a little suspicious when my entire family began oohing and aahing at a helicopter that flew by as we were on our way to the surprise. It really was awesome, and not nearly as scary as I thought. My five year old was absolutely terrified when we he climbed into his seat, but once we were in the air, he decided it wasn’t scary at all. In fact, he very promptly announced that he wanted to go on a helicopter ride for his birthday too!

All that busyness and now it is time to get back to routine and reality. It is fun when our lives are full of activity, but when it carries on for too long I begin to miss the days where I have nothing to do but laundry.

 

I absolutely love this time of year. If I had it my way spring would carry on for about five months, followed by one month of summer, five months of fall, and one month of winter. I guess in reality, we aren’t too far from that ideal here in the south. I don’t really even know where I’m going with this. I was just sitting here listening to the birds chirping outside my window and admiring all the bright new growth on the trees and just thinking about how awesome God is. The changing of the seasons to me is such an incredible display of God’s majesty, and such an incredible parallel to our lives. Some winters are longer than others, but spring always comes.