April 17 = Drive to Boston Day

Zachary is running the Boston Marathon tomorrow!  We drove to Boston today.  Last night I had a migraine- it was really bad. I don't think you can have a migraine and it not be really bad but just for emphasis, I'll clarify that it was really bad.  So I packed with my eyes closed, stumbling around the room.  I hope I remembered everything.  Anyway- here's us at the beginning of the ride.  Grandma drove in yesterday and sat with Malia- I sat with Liam and Zachary had the front seat to himself.

The MOPS group I've started going to this year had a book club that started before I got off the waitlist.  So I figured out what book they were reading and read it on my own.  I got to read the whole thing on the way to Boston and it was so so good.  I took pictures of my favorite parts so I could share them.  And so I'm not accused of plagiarising, the book is For the Love: Fighting for Grace in a World of Impossible Standards by Jen Hatmaker.

1. The trouble is, we have up-close access to women who excel in each individual sphere. With social media and its carefully selected messaging, we see career women killing it, craft moms slaying it, chef moms nailing it, Christian leaders working it.  We register their beautiful yards, homemade green chile enchiladas, themed birthday parties, eight-week Bible study series, chore charts, ab routines, "10 Tips for a Happy Marriage," career best practices, volunteer work and Family Fun Night ideas.  We make note of their talents.  Then we combine the best of everything we see, every woman we admire in every genre, and conclude: I should be all of that.  It is certifiably insane.  The only thing worse than this unattainable standard is the guilt that follows when perfection proves impossible.  Sister, what could be crazier than a woman who wakes children up before dawn (that's not me), feeds and waters them while listening and affirming all their chatter, gets them dressed and off to school with signed folders, then perhaps heads to a job to put food on the table (again, not me) or stays home to raise littles who cannot even wipe, completes one million domestic chores that multiply like gremlins, breaks up forty-four fights, intentionally disciplines 293 times a day, attends to all emails/correspondence/deadlines, helps with math/writing/biology homework, serves dinner while engineering a round of "High-Low," oversees Bedtime and Bath Marathon, reads lovingly to lap children, tucks them in with prayers, finishes the endless Daily Junk Everywhere Pickup, turns attention to husband with either mind or body, then has one last thought of the day: I am doing a terrible job at everything.  I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.

2.  Then she shares Thank-You Notes, Jimmy Fallon style

Thank you Shoppers Without Children.  I know my toddler should not be standing in the cart/eating the cookies before I buy them/climbing to the top shelf/asking other shoppers why they are "so fat."  I didn't actually coach my kindergartner to announce loudly in Aisle 9, "You loved me since you first saw my head pop out of you, right, Mommy?"  I wasn't aware you were the grocery police but thank you for your unsolicited advice, criticism and outright shaming techniques.  How nice for you that "your children never behaved like this."  Sincerely, A Mom on the Edge.

3.  Then she shares something about herself that is true for me as well and makes me feel so much better knowing someone else has the same aversion.

But I cannot handle pranks.  Cannot. Even. Handle. Them. Remember the Tom Green Show and Punk'd and The Jamie Kennedy Experiment?  Those shows almost put me into a coma.  When a bunch of people are in on it, and one person doesn't know, and they are forced into an awkward/horrifying/embarrassing/confusing/distressing situation, I start praying for the rapture.

4.  Back to the Thank-You Notes

Thank you, To-Do List, for going along with it when I add things to you I've already done, just for the satisfaction of crossing them off.  I don't expect you to understand my neuroses, but I appreciate your live-and-let-live policy.  I have so few things left.  Give me this small victory.  

Thank you, Caillou, for having a nonphonetic title so my son cannot look you up on Netflix.

Thank you, Woman Who Does My Nails, for always asking in a sad and not-so-subtle way if I'd also like to get my eyebrows done.

I don't remember the last time I read a book cover to cover in one day but it was a great experience.  It was interrupted by a cranky toddler and a couple bathroom breaks and lunch stops but it was so encouraging and affirming- so glad I asked what book the Book Club was reading!