trying to choose wisely

I've been planning out Abraham's upcoming birthday party a bit. I did a book-themed cake for him last year and was thinking of doing something similar for this year. I came up with the idea of doing The Very Hungry Caterpillar (or I think I came up with it... I'm not sure now... apparently, it's a very popular theme) and so I searched Google Images to get some ideas. And you know what, moms do CRAZY THINGS for the birthday parties of tiny children. Look at this, for example.

At first I was excited about the possibilities. Then I was discouraged, because I don't have time or money to do stuff like that (although honestly, I think I would really enjoy getting this ridiculous about it). Then I remembered that I don't think it's healthy to set children up with such unbelievable expectations; simply being loved and remembered and feeling treasured is more my goal. (Not feeling like the center of the universe so much.) But I kept perusing the pictures, and so lastly I was totally overwhelmed... I actually felt nauseated after looking at too many Very Hungry Caterpillar parties.

So I have a few little special things that I decided would be worthwhile and not over-the-top, things which I could manage doing to add a bit of specialness to Abraham's party. One of them was making cute invitations. And then last night I found myself working on the invites at 1:00 am and I realized... I can't do this stuff anymore. (Not the invitations; I finished those.) I can't do this thing where I think, "I'm a stay-at-home mom and I love doing stuff for my kids; therefore, I obviously have all the time in the world to make all kinds of cute photo albums and personalized birthday invitations and everything else creative that crosses my mind."

It hit me that I really just can't do it all. I just can't do everything that I want to do, or at least I can't allow extra unnecessary goals to creep in (like carefully fingerpainting individual Very Hungry Caterpillar birthday invitations. What was I thinking). The thing is, with one child, I felt like I kind of could do the things I wanted to do. Maybe not creative stuff, but at least the other things that were important to me. I could play with my baby and have a completely perfect ritual through her every awake time. I could read to her and sing to her heart's content. I could feed her perfectly nutritious, organic, grain-free and dairy-free foods until her first year. I could be careful about my every word and give her baths every single night and never ever raise my voice at all for any reason and always do cloth diapers and wake up with her every two hours every night for the first year and oh, just do a hundred other things that absolutely stretched me past my limits, time and again, but somehow I did them.

Now, somehow, by the amazing grace of God, I am able to take care of my three children very well. Not perfectly. But I can generally soothe whoever is crying within a reasonable space of time. I am generally consistent in discipline. Not perfect. I don't catch Ezekiel's every yawn and smile like I did with Rilla, and sometimes that makes me cry. But I am learning more than ever to major in the majors. To let the little things go.

And not just the little things. That is the kicker. Catching Ezekiel's smiles? That is important to me. I only let go of precious face-to-face time with my baby when I absolutely have to, such as when somebody else is crying. But I do have to let go of those sometimes. Vacuuming the crevices in couches... that is something I let go of too, something maybe I kind of wish I could do sometimes, but I let go of doing that so I can do what matters more. Not stacking the silverware just right and not folding underwear... those are things that bother me, but I am learning to let them go most of the time and not really begrudge it much. But what about the bigger things. Things like going for walks every day. Things like writing down some of the blog posts that flit through my head in a day, recording some of the lessons I've learned since becoming a mama. Things like finishing Abraham's (huge!) baby book. Things like organizing all these amazing pictures of our life together from the last several years. Those are things that weigh on me, things that I earnestly desire to do and really would love to do. It's not for lack of desire that I haven't managed to put together a big fat photo album for Abraham's first year like I did for Rilla's. But there just isn't the time. I adore creativity and organization, but I have to be able to let them go, remembering that they serve me; I do not serve them. (This post and this post are excellently written and go along with my thoughts, although I can't quite explain how just how, and will have to leave you to figure out.) I can do some of the things that I want to do some of the time, but I can't do all of the things well that I want to do all of the time.

Perhaps it sounds silly, but that grieves me. I really do want to do these things. And what it has been coming down to more and more, and what struck me as I was doing those invitations last night, is that there are things which I really do love to do. Which I really do want to do. Which I would enjoy doing. And yet... the good is the enemy of the best, right? I have to choose what is the very best, what is the very most important to me. And what is best in the end is not that I make a cute photo album of Ezekiel's first six weeks, even though I found a great coupon! and I have all these cute photos! and I really want to! but rather that I am spending time with my beloved husband, and our new son, and our older son, and our sweet daughter, and that I am fully entering into this time together. I tend to think that the thing which will stand the test of time is the cute photo albums that I make of these beautiful moments together, when in reality the thing which will stand the test of time is the life created from these moments. I don't want my children to grow up and remember that I was never fully in the moment because I was too busy taking pictures of it. Or to have dozens of beautiful photo books that are accompanied by the bitter memory of their mama being busy at the computer, working on the photo books rather than entering into daily life with them. Or being too tired from always being up late blogging about great stuff to actually be a pleasant person to be around. I want to spend time shaping their character, even if that takes so much of my time that it excludes being able to make adorable photo albums to showcase their adorable little faces and personalities and selves. I wish I could blog more, but I would rather live a beautiful story than write a beautiful blog.

It seems like parenthood is all about choices. All about self-control and self-discipline. About choosing what is best, about steering the best course or the right one among such a myriad of other options. Maybe that's what life is all about. Or maybe that's just still a lesson that I am continuing to learn, and thus it looms incredibly large in my mind. This purposeful living thing.

(Note the irony of me finishing up this post at almost 1:00 in the morning...)