Before kids, although I can hardly remember that 27 years of my life now, I’d heard of it. The new level of struggle that comes with Sunday mornings. But until I have lived it, I didn’t know. Not really.

Last Sunday, I had both kids sans husband while he was gone serving. And man, oh man. The crazies came out in my kids.

I mean, I am here with them 5 our of 7 days, alone, totally outnumbered (2 to 1), and for the most part, I can subdue this territory. Or at least keep us from riot mode. Why should Sunday be any different?

But Sundays are another animal, and all I can honestly do is laugh about it. Otherwise, I would be curled up in the corner, crying.

Last week, all before 9:00AM, I was chasing my son around the kitchen, trying to give him much-needed ear drops. (And if you have never encountered ear-drops, then you don’t know the gelatinous awfulness of it. I would be screaming my head off and running around the kitchen, too, if you tried to put it in my ear). Once I finally succeeded, I then found honey in both mine and my son’s hair (or maybe it was the ear drops again, I’m not entirely sure). Seriously? So while going to try to eradicate my hair of honey without having to shower again – is there a pinterest tip for this? -I suddenly hear my son cackling.

You think, aww, sweet.
Nope.
Trouble.
That is what that cackle means.

And that morning, trouble looked like my 18 month old running down our hallway with the plunger. (I made sure to thank my husband later that afternoon for leaving it in the kids’ bathroom.)

Can I just douse the entire house in water and disinfectant and start the day again? Nope – 20 minutes to church. Ugh….Sunday strikes again.

This week – it’s tuning up to be another good one. A whole pitcher of water (and 6 roses) poured into the middle of the kitchen floor. Yep, the 18 month old again. I knew I needed to mop, but I would have preferred using non-plant food dissolved water. Sigh. It’s only 7:45AM.

Yes, Sunday, you never fail to provide a level of excitement that I seem to always be unprepared for. But not for long. I know your game now.

Next week – I’m waking up with rubber gloves & two sets of clothes (per child) ready. Do your best, Sunday. I’ll be ready.

“This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it. “ Psalm 118:24

(This post was written a while back – it’s taken a while to get it finalized.)
Y’all – I don’t even really know what to say about this.

I was just having a conversation with The Sweetness  while we were working through a tracing workbook together, and she seemed disappointed about her first diamond tracing. I told her she did a good job (it wasn’t very precise, but I thought she did well) and she put her pencil down and said “But it’s not perfect…”

Whaaa???

Seriously?

Here’s a little personal background information before I proceed, so that this makes a little bit more sense and why this statement hit me like a ton of bricks. Recently, the Lord has been showing me how I have this awful struggle with the lies of perfectionism. One of the lies I have believed is that I needed to be or do something in order to be “more” (more acceptable, more appealing, more loved, etc.) because I was not enough.

Perfectionism sets up a standard that I was never supposed to meet, keeps this unrealistic measuring stick in front of me, and dictates that I devote my life to trying.
The reward it offers: a daily serving of shame and self-condemnation.
The message it speaks: -“I don’t measure up, I am lacking. I am not enough. Keep trying. Keep doing. Keep fixing.” or “Don’t even bother. You can’t do it right. Give up.”
The focus: me.

Truthfully, these weeds are still planted in my heart and the Lord has begun a process of identifying and uprooting them, in His faithfulness. But I never would have imagined what unraveled this morning with my 3 year old daughter. She has become one of the biggest tools the Lord uses to show me more of Himself, myself, and pretty much anything else He wants to talk to me about.

So we proceeded to have a very Holy Spirit-led conversation about how her tracing doesn’t need to be perfect, that only Jesus is perfect and that we don’t have to be or do things perfectly. Jesus just asks us to be obedient & do the best with what we’ve been given, and He takes care of the results. And when we work within these parameters, it is beautiful (words to my soul, seriously).

I don’t know if this issue has always been there with Natalie and that my eyes are only opened to it now that the Lord is showing me my own struggle with perfectionism, or maybe this is a new phase for her.

Regardless, I am pretty sure I don’t use that term “perfect,” especially now, so I don’t think she got that vocabulary from me. However, I don’t underestimate how my nonverbal behaviors and responses may have encouraged frustration with something that is less than ‘ideal.’  I pray that I’ve never acted that way towards her, as though she wasn’t enough. (My heart sinks now at the thought of how these lies permeate my heart and overflow to the relationships around me.)  My succumbing to perfectionism is usually focused on myself and my actions. But she’s sooo smart and intuitive, and I know she picks up on subtle messages like this, to where she may be internalizing the way I treat myself and learning to do that, too.