Not The Mommy I Thought I’d Be

I wish I can remember the exact date when I wrote this. I believe it was sometime winter 2016 or early 2017.  Last year was a hard school year. New baby. New home. New routine. A lot of growth I had to do as a wifommy. This was something I wrote when in the thick of things. 

download-1I am not the mother I want to be. I am not the mother I thought I would be. wifommyhood is harder than I thought it would be. The dishes, the laundry, the education, and that is just the daily grind. Not to mention everything else! I yell more than what is effective.  My patience often comes after the fact.  I still suck at making lunch. And dinner? My husband no longer eats white (bread, rice, flour etc) which makes thrown-together-meals just about non-existent. I am increasingly behind in grocery shopping which seems ridiculous with only having a four person household. By 4 o’clock, I’m done! I’ve had it for the day. I want to do NOTHING! I don’t want to listen to anymore 8yr old thoughts. I don’t want to train a 14 month old on the importance of “listening to Mommy” and “don’t hit sister!” My husband comes home and I try not to be a shell of a woman for him but he has his own needs and I will often see him as someone else who needs something from me. I am thoroughly stumped with my life right now. I’d like to hope that this getaway I have coming up will help but I am not so sure.

Homeschoolers left and right showing accomplishment after accomplishment talking about “the magic of homeschool”. Bah! Can I get some of that? Feels like I’m slouching in at least two subjects with her (Jazmine) while our peers are taking field trips, completing projects and what not.

Next year, I will be the outsourcing Momma. Yes, she will have five subjects taught via tutorial or a co-op. Yes, she will be in “only” two extra curricular activities and not 3 or more. Yes, I will “only” be teaching 3 subjects at home. Yes, I will be looking into house cleaning help sometime this summer. Yes, I will leave the house to come home and expect it to be clean. No, I will not be ashamed. Why? Because I am going to remember this time in my life right now and know why we are doing what we are doing.

Update: I am outsourcing 5 subjects. She “only” has two extracurricular activities. I did have someone clean my house after we moved it. I have learned that others decisions for their household is not a judgement against mine. Amen!


Did I Mention I Hate Being A Pastor’s Wife?

Of course, the title of this post is rhetorical.  I’ve answered it SEVERAL times in this blog. Just search the archives and you will see. 



Let me clarify so assumptions are not made.

I love my husband who is a Pastor.  I love being his wife. I HATE being a Pastor’s wife.  How is that different? Let me explain.

I would remain married to my husband if he weren’t a Pastor. I don’t hate my husband. I’m not leaving my husband because he is a Pastor.  I love my husband. I enjoy being a wife.  I hate being a wife of a Pastor.

If you still don’t get it, that’s fine but please no comments on what you think I am feeling if you don’t understand my opening statement.

Our Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays are for preparing a sermon.  Not that my husband only starts on it on Thursdays but that is the day it usually becomes more solidified. When are birthday parties, adult outings, and other social gatherings usually held? Fridays and Saturdays.  How many times do I show up looking like a single Mom with two children to events where there are whole families (moms and dads)?  Much more often than not.  Case in point. I rejoined a local MOPS group. They were having a fun pool event that I knew my Jazmine would love.  I was excited to see how Baby Grace would do in the pool.  I took my girls and went.  I wasn’t expecting to see so many dads. I assumed MOPS (mothers of preschoolers) and thought it would be a large playdate instead of a family outing. My mistake.  The pool event was titled a family outing but it my mind, I envisioned women and children.  With the exception of one other mom, I was the only one there unaccompanied by my husband.  The other mom’s husband stayed home with the infant while she came with the toddler.

I felt horrible.  I wanted to shout, I HAVE A HUSBAND WHO LOVES ME AND IS A GREAT FATHER TO OUR CHILDREN! I equally wanted to tell anyone who said hi to me that my husband is writing a sermon so he couldn’t come.  I felt the need to quantify why I was alone.

Being a Pastor’s wife is so lonely. There are few you can share your feelings with.  Even in a group of Pastor’s wives, you can be told to put your big-girl panties on and suck it up.  Well guess what?  I suck it up all the time!  Can’t I vent? Am I not allowed to be upset? Angry? Hurt? Can I not desire to have an entire weekend to myself? Can’t I desire to have our family hang out late on a Saturday night with friends and go to late service on Sunday? Why is it only a Pastor’s wife that can’t want anything?  Why is it a Pastor’s wife that is supposed to suck-it up and (this is the part that is never said but ALWAYS implied) like it?

I love my husband but I hate this role. There aren’t enough Pastor’s wives appreciations on the planet to make this job worth the sacrifice! I’m not dealing with all of the facets of being a Pastor’s wife in this post. This post is specifically about showing up unaccompanied by my husband to family events. Oh but trust, there are many more gripes that I am sure will come out in posts to come.

If you are a Pastor’s wife, you are not alone in feeling alone.  You are not alone in hating the role.  You are not alone in wanting more. You are not alone. I give you permission to feel, to desire, and to want. Talk about it. Not sweep it under a rug.  That is how resentment grows and resentment never grows into anything pleasant.


The Priesthood: Modern Day Levite


Years ago, a friend of ours, stopped us on our way out of the church parking lot.  We were previously discussing my husband’s increasing role at our place of worship. I said something like “I am a slouch because I don’t do much of anything compared to him.” It was then, our friend said, “I believe in Levitical families.” She went on to explain that it’s usually never one person of the household who is called to serve.  Both husband, wife, and even children, are all called to serve God in one capacity or another. At the time, I heard her but now I really understand the weight of that statement.

My husband is a preacher.  He is the Pastor at the church we attend.  He is a bi-vocational Pastor at that, meaning he has a full-time job and he Pastor’s a church.  Pastoring is not limited to preaching on Sunday.  It is all-encompassing.

My husband works 40 hours a week in his profession plus a few hours every evening at home. He spends roughly 20 hours a week, and that is an observers estimate, on church business (paperwork, communication, etc) plus the time it takes to meditate and prepare a sermon. He is ALWAYS forward thinking and planning for months and years ahead. That is his calling. God called Him to pastor.

As his wife and as far as our family goes, we live a Levitical life.  We have a Levitical schedule.  Saturday and Sunday brunches are non-existent for us. Saturday evening time with friends? No way man. Sunday night dates? No. The get up and go lifestyle? Not here. I often look at other families and think how wonderful it is for them to be able to go grocery shopping together. I usually end up going after the girls are in the bed.

This is not a complaint.  It is a reflection. I see Facebook posts about the fantastic Sundays people have and the wonderful Saturday evenings they experience. I look longingly on those post but remember our calling is different. Corporate worship is not optional for us.  My family can’t live stream service while we relax on the couch eating pancakes. My husband can’t live stream from home.  Convenience is not the calling.

Our whole family is involved. We all have to be up and ready Sunday morning which means Saturday evening is treated like a school night.  Our home operates on a quieter level, which is no easy task, when my husband is working on his sermon. There are many other things that run differently in our Levitical home that are both common to other Levitical families and unique to our blended Levitical family.

The calling is high.

Betwix And Between

I am in full swing celebration mode about moving. I have mentally planned how to systematically move all of our things to our new home. I completed the first three phases of the move. They were very small phases but very important ones to me.

I have had some things housed at my parents home for thirteen years!  I could not wait to move them out of there and I finally have!

In the midst of that excitement, I noticed that my husband wasn’t as enthused.  I know this man wanted this move so that is not the issue.  Bella graduates in a few days and I know he thinks of that. He has a sermon to prepare and that is constantly on his mind. We have a very busy weekend full of obligations (most very fun obligations) and no time to move the way we wanted initially. We have decided on a soft move; moving things over very slowly especially since our new home is maybe three minutes from the Ark. It should take us about a week. A slow move is still a move and in my mind, every day something has to be devoted to moving.

I was sharing my systematic moving plans with my husband. He was not pleased. After talks, he said he feels bad that I am moving our things and he can not help me. So now, I am stuck between what I want to do and what I think I should do.  I think I should defer to his feelings but I want to move.  I am the one usually around the house every day.  He is often gone so my longing to leave is a bit different from his. I don’t want to be in this house more than I have to be.  I want to be moved into my home ASAP.  I am moving with a baby and a 7 yr old in tow so you know I am serious!

I think we’ve come to a happy compromise. We said we can go look at and purchase some furniture. That is not the same as moving BUT it is just as productive. Plus, its shopping! I’ll take it!

Changing My Words To Be More Encouraging

My husband is a hard worker, a very hard worker. He always has been. Recently, he has started working in a new revenue stream for our household. The hours aren’t ridiculous but he is so tired when he comes home that I feel helpless. Pregnancy hormones are not assisting me in my feelings in a good way either. 

I look to encourage him and support him without making him feel guilty for leaving the house. I had to tell Jazmine what to say to encourage her father too. Previously, she would say, “Why do you have to go and leave me to work all the time?”  That used to crush my man. All of my ‘don’t you enjoy eating’ etc comments weren’t swaying her. 

I finally had to break it down to her and tell her that when a man leaves the house, you give him wings, not chains. I told her that the better thing to say is “Thank you for working so hard for me Daddy. I can’t wait for you to come home.”

I’ve had to take a page out of my own book today. I want my man home! I’m feeling lonely and mucho sensitive but I had to catch myself before contacting him to make sure my words share how I feel about him but still give him wings because I know my man. He will stop what he’s doing and come home to see about me. And truly, as much as I want that, it is not seriously necessary today.

So, before speaking, or communicating to him in any way, I will first get myself together and keep the big picture in front of me and not my momentary state of mind. 

That is all.


The count down has begun!

We are less than 24 hours away from all of the big kids returning back to their mothers!


I need them to go.

I am beginning to hate the month of July.  This July was harder because I was dealing with first trimester symptoms on top what turned out to be a grueling schedule.  The schedule would have remained fun and enjoyable had it not been for the fatigue, sour stomach, and just an overall feeling of being uncomfortable. I will GLADLY those symptoms because I want my baby but had I known I was going to be pregnant, I would not have committed to the schedule I had.

We had a business trip, family vacation, and a day at the amusement park.  I hate to admit it but it was too much for this pregnant lady.  Others could have handled it well but I could not.

It wasn’t just the activity.  It was the family dynamic.

Bella is almost 17 now and, had she been a grown woman who I met, we would be on a hi/bye level of association and nothing more.  But because she is husband’s daughter, I do a lot more ‘grin and bear it’ instead of cut loose and run away. Anthony is 13 and has been with us the longest this summer.  Ever since he was little, after a few weeks, we both would look at each other with a ‘I am ready to go back to my life now’ expression. This year, that time has come and gone but we could not be rid of each other just yet. Scott is 12 and is a bit of a drama king. He is 100% male and full boy but enjoys dramatic behaviors and speech. I hate drama.  As soon as I detect drama, I do an about-face and walk away.  Can’t do that here.

Much of July has felt like an imprisonment that I needed to grow through. Not that the imprisonment would leave or lessen, but one that I had to learn how to navigate in through Christ. I have truly embraced the mindset that I cannot change any aspect of my big kids in any visit they have with us. I can only impart wisdom, live life in front of them, and practice what I preach. If I had to grade myself, I would give myself a C- for July.  I was probably better but because of my overall crappy feeling, I can’t be sure I didn’t earn that grade.

I have mapped out this final day of a house full before I return to my glorious regular life! After two of the four come in from outside, they will eat lunch.  After lunch, I will run to the Redbox and get a movie for them to enjoy. After that, it will be time for my husband to take Bella to work (yes, girlfriend has a job) and he is taking everyone with him (WOOHOO!) When they return it will be time for dinner and then to pack up for tomorrow’s departure (YIPPEE!). After that, bed.  The first departure is at 8AM tomorrow and the second departure is at 10:30AM. When I walk back into this house at noon, I will be one happy chick!

Now, just for the record, I know as anxious as I am for these children to be gone, they are equally as anxious to get up out of here as well. Works for me!

The Sexiest Thing A Man Can Ever Say!

Last week was hard. Hard doesn’t even begin to describe the anguish of thought, feelings of hopelessness and defeat that I experienced. But praise God! Trouble don’t last always.

After much prayer, surviving off of God’s word (which lead to a new Bible Study and a new devotional), and acceptance of His will, HE DELIVERED!

My husband said the absolute most sexiest thing a man could ever say to a woman that feeds her very essence. He said,

“I will fight for you.”

Say what?!?!?! Those five words opened a dam of affection that had been stopped. Those five words were the release from being in a bad head space, hopelessness, and defeat. He followed up those words by saying he loved me and that he would die for me.  I know those words are true but those first five words mean so much more than the rest of his declaration to me.

I could only smile but I did not simply smile.  I smiled hard.  His words more than just touched me.  They fed me. I smiled outwardly but inwardly, I was beaming from ear to ear.  My eyes even smiled!  I read a lot of books and have read the expression that someone’s eyes smiled although their mouth never moved.  Now I understand.  My mouth smiled, but more importantly, my eyes smiled.

I keep replaying that scene of my husband and I in my head and continue to smile. Not only did he say he would fight for me, he has been backing up ever since. Full speed ahead.

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

I felt myself coming to the end. I felt me growing empty.  Think of a jar of peanut butter.  You know you are close to the end when you can see through parts of the bottom of the clear jar but you also know that if you use a spatula, you can scrape out at least two more sandwiches worth of peanut butter before throwing away the jar.  That is how I felt.

Hopefullness had left.

Trust had failed.

Words spoken were not kept.

Communication ceased.

I got nervous; unsure.

I could feel all the patience God has grown me to have with his people and trust God has developed in me in Him get to the tethered end. I could feel myself scraping every last piece of patience and encouragement I had and even then continued to scrape to see if I could rustle up some more.  It finally wore out.  I was empty.  I could feel it coming and nothing I did prevented it from happening.

My attitude soured.

I became short with folks.

I closed myself off.

All my thoughts were geared to “how am I going to fix this if failure comes again”.  I stayed completely unplugged from all loud factors; television, pleasure reading, personal projects.  I refused all of it.  I longed to hear from the Lord and I did but it wasn’t what I was expecting.

I expected an immediate refuel of all the patience and encouragement I’d dished out.  I expected a sense of peace that surpassed all understanding.  I expected to once again look on people with love.

That didn’t happen.

The exact opposite happened.

I had contempt in my eye. Arguments building up in my brain to unleash when the pressure built up to be unbearable. Exit strategies began to form. Anything and everything came into play to keep me from admitting the truth.

My feelings are hurt.

I’d been let down.

Because I am not currently emitting loving vibes, communication has been terminated.




As soon as I hitched my line onto the foretold shooting star, it fell. I never bought into it before but this time, this time, I thought things would be different.  I saw the spark again; the determination. I saw assurance and a granite will that things were going to change whether I believed it or not.

That was the difference this time around.  I jumped in hook, line, and sinker.

Unfortunately, it looks like I should have kept my reservations very much alive but quietly to myself. Now I have to mourn what won’t be and accept what is in front of me.  I can’t make it seem any more than what it is. I can’t make excuses. It is put up or shut up time and folks have shut up instead of put up. It’s heartbreaking. Now that I have scraped the bottom of the jar of my emotions, I hope to God that He will fill me up again. It’s been a long time since I have felt this hopeless. Please pray Proverbs 14:1 for me that I may act wisely and 2 Corinthians 12:9 that I most gladly will boast in my infirmities (hurt feelings, disappointments, hopelessness) that the power of Christ will rest upon me for His grace is sufficient. #liveoutloud


I Want Them To Love Us

Remember when I cut my stepchildren off?  Yes, well, I have had to go deeper into those feelings to see what was really growing there.  My prayers have changed for those children also.  I used to have specific prayers for each of them and I prayed for them, out of obligation if truth be told.

I was thinking about my big kids today and my true desire for them was clear for me to see.  I started out by saying what I really wanted.  What I long for is for Bella, Scott, and Anthony to love Brian (my husband for those who don’t know).  I want them to include him in their thoughts.  I want them to want to talk to him, to share their lives with him.  I want them to respect him.

That became my new prayer for all of five minutes because as I was praying for that, I was convicted that I was praying a lie and that lie, if allowed to come into fruition, would harm our family unit. Why? Because I would be praying for division. Praying for my stepchildren to love their father was exclusive of Jazmine and I. Praying that they would call and express concern for their father would marginalize us even more. That is when I birthed the truth from my lips.  I want my stepchildren to love all of us; my husband, my daugther, and myself.

I want my stepchildren to embrace us all as a family unit that they are apart of. I want them to love us and care for us, to include us (positively) in their thoughts and express that love in their actions. I want them to come over just because they want to be here regardless of who is actually home at the time.

That is a rather large prayer request considering the state of things but that is my heart open to God about my stepchildren.

I Am Rich

We live with my mother-in-law, but I am rich.

My daughter, my husband, and I sleep in the same room, but I am rich.

My husband drives a hooptie, but I am rich.

In the eyes of my peers, I could have done a lot better, but I am rich.

Iced coffee is a luxury for me, but I am rich.

Splurging for me comes in fits and sputters, but I am rich.

I am rich in the intangibles.

I have a husband who loves me and emotionally spoils me and longs to spoil me with things too.  I have a daughter who I like and not just love. I have a mother-in-law who, although she can drive me absolutely nuts, would do anything to help me.

Sometimes, it is necessary to get still and take stock of what is really important in your life.  I hope you take time today to do the same.

Your wealth is dependent on your relationships; not your materials.