Tag Archives: motherhood

Is it a 30’s thing?

I feel like my 20’s were a time of exploration, possibilities, adventure. Making a choice wasn’t going to be ‘forever,’ and there was just a feeling of looseness about everything. We tried to make some money, have some fun, and the future seemed like a winding path that would create itself as we went. It was a time of taking opportunities, walking through open doors.

This past month has been very different: a time of intense thinking. Thinking with my husband about: what is really important to us? What makes us the happiest? Is it really going to be him having a career that could take us far away from Chicago and me staying home? Is that what he wants? Is that what I want?

Unlike our 20’s mindset, suddenly we’re contemplating open doors that we might not want to walk through. Opportunities that might beckon, and that we might say ‘no’ to.

My husband and I have been blessed this past year with a season of shared responsibilities at home. The flexibility with both our jobs means that my husband is getting a taste of being a stay-at-home dad. At least once a week, I go to work alone and he stays home with sweet Alice. And he loves it. Loves, loves, loves. Like, maybe he could do this full time. And I also love staying home with Alice–but not all the time. Because I love my new-found passion for writing. I love getting out into the world, and having a part of my life be independent of my roles as wife and mother. It invigorates me.

In short, we both want a significant part of our schedules to be blocked off for the delightful (if sometimes difficult) work of parenting, and taking care of our home. But we also both have other interests. Right now, the balance feels near perfect. I feel like my husband and I are truly partners in the different aspects of our lives: the bread-winning and the parenting.

But with my husband’s graduation coming up in March and his job applications floating around the country, not to mention another baby on the way, we both know that a change is coming.

We’re not yet sure what our choices and options will be, but this season of uncertainty has made us dig deep into our hearts and examine ourselves: what do we really want out of life? How do we want to spend our time?

I’m wondering how much these questions are part of this next decade of life, the 30’s. I feel like we’re starting to uncover more of who we are in this (frequently tearful) process.

After feeling squeezed breathless by all these thoughts, and crying what felt like gallons of tears (and making my husband miss the State of the Union because I decided to have a weep-fest instead), the past few days I’ve felt remarkably lightweight. Okay, not actually, because I’m gaining weight with this baby faster than I can count the pounds, but lightweight spiritually. This morning I realized that this ‘perfect balance’ we have now of work and home life for both my husband and me wasn’t the product of some well-thought out decision. It was a gift directly from God. We never chose to have this balance outright–my job just happened to end up being super flexible, and my hard times last year with the ectopic pregnancy and working with a toddler in the office forced me to ask my husband for more help (i.e. staying home with Alice more throughout the week), which (surprise!) he’s ended up loving, and I’ve ended up loving. What I’m actually seeing today is that God has led us to this season of balance–and that he can do that again. This fall, and for the rest of our lives. He knew all along we wanted this, even when we didn’t know we wanted it. He knows us better than we know ourselves, and I believe he is eager to give us good gifts: joy and peace. Contentment in our work. The ability to care for our family in accordance with the calling we both hear in our hearts.

Okay. Now that I got that off my chest, I’m off to eat some more Danish and put on a few more pounds–’cause why not? It’s Thursday, it’s snowing, I’m pregnant with a little boy named Benjamin, and God is good.

And then, I got slapped out of my grumpfest

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I had a fantasy yesterday morning. I thought there was a chance it could make sense. It involved buying a house here in Chicago. It made sense enough in my mind that I looked around on some real estate websites. I found a place I felt ready to launch into. I even decided where I would put the couch.

Then I talked to someone who I knew would have no problem bursting my bubble if the idea didn’t make sense.

Five minutes later, it was clear that it didn’t make sense. Because ultimately, even if things fell into place guaranteeing our presence in Chicago for 3 more years, that’s still not long enough to make buying a house worth it–we’d still just be paying off interest on our mortgage at that point!

It was like a sugar crash in my spirit.

Our lease is up for renewal soon. And we’ve enjoyed our apartment so much for the past almost 2 years–it’s the best apartment we’d ever lived in. But with a toddler, and dreams of another baby someday, I’ve been thinking of how luxurious a house with a finished basement would be–a space for Alice to run around like a wild thing when the long Chicago winters keep us inside for months. And a yard. I thought for so many years that I would never want a yard. I’m not interested in gardening, and owning a mower just sounds . . . well, like someone else’s life. But I didn’t realize that having a child who rejoices in the outdoors changes one’s desires. Bring on the mower!

And no downstairs neighbors with their parties . . . that would be nice too, which I especially think about in the middle of the night when our bedroom floor is vibrating with a strident bass line.

Undergrads . . . I was one, once.

And here’s the thing–nothing is wrong with these desires for a house of our own, as long as:

1) I’m patient

2) I’m thankful for what I have, rejoicing in all the blessings God has already given us

3) I hold loosely to these dreams, knowing that they may not be fulfilled on earth–but I have a heavenly hope! God is preparing a place for me, and that promise can give me the patience to wait beyond a lifetime.

The evening came, and I was lying on the couch in an emotional funk. Being patient seemed so hard. I’ve been patient for so many years already! I thought. And guys . . . I was just wallowing in sin. Not rejoicing in what I had, not trusting in God’s good provision and timing, not looking forward to the fulfillment of all our desires in heaven . . . it was, well, gross. Like a junk food binge that leaves you feeling nasty and bloated.

Thankfully the Spirit slapped me. A nice, quick “wake up!” kind of slap. Hey, he seemed to say, it’s time to do one of those corny “what are you thankful for” exercises. Go!

I snapped to attention. My husband and I started saying out loud what we were thankful for. Soon I was laughing . . . because there’s so much. My moody little grumpfest was revealed for what it was: utterly ridiculous.

I’m thankful for coffee. Good food and a nice kitchen to cook it in. Alice’s silky, blond hair. These new hair twisty thingies I’ve been using every day. The Bible. Alice’s endearing relationship with her blankie.

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A time every morning to meet with God. Our comfy couch. Our car. Our church family. The fact that both our sets of parents are believers. Our nephews and their funny little selves. My enduring and amazing friendship with my sisters. Eggplant, that weird and delicious vegetable. Schreiber Park, where Alice has been swinging, sliding, and generally tearing it up. The fact that I can’t remember the last time we had to worry about money. Netflix. The internet. iTunes, which at one point didn’t exist. (can you believe it?)

Once we started naming things, we just kept going . . . and going. It was like a soul-purging, and it left me feeling cleansed and buoyant.

Guys, there’s so much to be thankful for. Letting our materialistic dreams consume our heart can be such a trap of unhappiness and joy-stealing. So today, say YES to joy!