My alarm clock blasted music way too lively for my early-morning mood. I crawled out of bed with a groan, stumbling over a basket overflowing with dirty laundry. Whatever happened to our lazy days of summer? My mind drifted back to when my girls were younger – back when we slept in late during summer vacations. Now, activities like gymnastics, band and volleyball camps, softball games and a number of other commitments had turned our lazy days into crazy days. 

I maneuvered my way toward the kitchen through a path of flip flops. Last night’s dinner dishes greeted me at the sink. Oh yes, I thought, remembering our hectic evening the night before. We had scarfed down frozen pizza, grabbed our lawn chairs and rushed out the door for my daughter’s six o’clock softball game.

Something is wrong with this picture, I thought, scraping dried pepperoni off a dinner plate. As much as I enjoyed watching and supporting my girls’ activities, our busy schedule left little time for housework. Somehow we had plenty of time to make messes, but never enough to clean them up.  

Whenever I complained, my husband always gave me the same advice. “Get those girls to help you.”   

“I know,” I said, feeling a twinge of guilt, “but that’s easier said than done.” They always seemed to have an excuse.

“How about folding some laundry?” 

“Okay Mom, this TV show is almost over.”

“Girls, I need you to unload the dishwasher.” 

“Sure Mom, but can I do it in a couple of minutes? I’m so close to the next level on this game.”

Truth be told, it probably was my fault. I wanted to be a good mom – and good moms didn’t follow their kids around nagging them all day. But I didn’t feel like a good mom. I was a tired mom. A grumpy mom. I was a mom who needed help, and I knew the perfect way to motivate my girls.   

“Okay guys,” I said, one morning during breakfast, “today we’re starting something new.” Three pairs of eyes gazed up at me from their bowls of cereal. “From now on, each of you must complete a chore each day before getting on a screen.”

“A screen?” my youngest asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Yes, a screen,” I said. “You know, TV’s, computers, Wii games, iPhones …”

One by one each girl’s mouth dropped open. They weren’t excited, but I was eager to set my plan in action.   

I’ll admit the first few days were a challenge. Like most kids they tested me, making sure I could stand my ground. But within a couple of weeks, doing chores became our daily routine. My plan worked great – and no nagging was needed.

I used to think a good mom meant self-sacrifice and being able to do it all. Now I have a new definition. A good mom builds a team and teaches responsibility. She is more able to enjoy her kids because she’s no longer stressed out, sleep deprived and exhausted. Once I learned to share the load, I think I became a pretty good mom.

Last week Madison brought a note home from school. Of course that’s nothing new. Kids bring home notes all the time. There are reminders about lunch money. Permission slips for field trips. But the look on my daughter’s face told me this was no ordinary note. 

“I’m supposed to give you this.” Madison’s eyes avoided mine as she held out the paper. 

She’s doesn't normally get into trouble. 

“Is it from your teacher?” 

“No, it’s from the nurse.”

Across the room, Taylor looked up from her homework. “Some kid probably has head lice.”

Madison crossed her arms. “Nobody’s got head lice.” Her face wrinkled. “It’s worse.” 

Worse than head lice? 

I glanced at the paper and within an instant, remembered. Three years ago I received the same note when Taylor was in fourth grade – and two years before that with Emily. For some reason, it always catches me off guard. I began reading it out loud.

“Dear Parent, On May 19th your daughter will be given the opportunity to view the video ‘Always Changing.’”

“Oh – that note!” Taylor nodded her head and laughed out loud. 

“It’s not fair!” Madison dropped her backpack to the floor. “The boys get to have an extra recess, but the girls have to stay inside and watch this movie.”

I was tempted to give her a few more reasons why life wasn't fair, but decided against it. If she didn't know by now, she’d soon find out. I tried to ignore the old Steve Miller song running through my head. 

Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future ... 

I guess this note was my not-so-subtle reminder that my girl is growing up. It may as well have said:

Dear mother in denial … Please take this as your official warning. Your baby is growing up. Even though right now she thinks boys are yucky and she’d rather attend a baseball game than shop for dresses at the mall, don’t be fooled. Her time is coming. Enjoy every moment of these childhood years.

The school nurse is right. My daughters are "always changing.” But there’s something about this last girl that makes me want to hold on just a little bit longer. 

I was in for a busy night, but I had a plan. I could get all three girls where they needed to be – and on time – but I needed to hurry. Unfortunately something ruined my plan: a little gray car.

“I can’t believe this. They’re driving 40 miles an hour.” I shook my head and whacked the palm of my hand against the wheel.

Emily looked up from her phone. “What’s the speed limit?”

“Fifty-five, and I can’t pass because we’re approaching a hill.” I gauged the oncoming traffic and tightened my grip on the wheel. “Come on gray car, can’t you pick up the pace?”

We came to a stop sign and I flicked my turn signal. Then I stared at the back of the gray car. “Please-don’t-turn-right, please-don’t-turn-right.” Their turn signal blinked. I threw my hands in the air.

As they made a leisurely right turn I glanced at my dashboard clock. We’re going to be late. My shoulders tightened. "As soon as we get around this curve, I am passing that car." Then I spotted something that grabbed my attention: a black and white car with lights on top.

"Oh."

Emily raised an eyebrow and gave me a look she probably learned from me.

“Okay, okay.” I exhaled. “Thank you gray car. I think you just saved me a ticket.”

As we continued on our way, I couldn't help but wonder if God had a message for me in this. Because honestly, I've been feeling a little frustrated and impatient in another area of my life: my writing.

For a while it seemed like my writing was really going places. I’d won a contest. I was getting lots of stories published. But lately, things have been moving more slowly. I've struggled with writer’s block. I've had rejections. My wheels are spinning, but I'm going nowhere. And it seems like God is saying, “Slow down; not so fast.”

But He knows what’s around the corner for me and I can trust in His plan. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. I am impatient. I want things my way, in my timing. Can you relate? But I’ll take that little gray car as a reminder. Sometimes I just need to sit back, relax and remember who’s actually in the driver’s seat.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

Hi everyone!

Every year at parent-teacher conferences I heard the same thing: "Emily is such a bright girl. I just wish she'd raise her hand and speak up more in class." 

Meanwhile at home, she could talk my ear off. 

This week I'm sharing a blog post I wrote for the Quad City Moms Blog. If you have a child that's an introvert - or if you are an introvert - I think you will relate to this post! I'd love for you to check it out. Just click here!

Thanks for stopping by! 

Until next week ... 

Sheri