Lisa Bonnema

Mom. Writer. Speaker.

Push

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So leave it to me to get on a good blogging roll and then come to a screeching halt after leaving my heart on the page screen for all to see.

I kinda feel like that last post needs some explanation, yet my hope was that it wouldn’t need one at all. I have to admit that I wonder what ya’ll thought of it. Not that this is a shameless plug for comments, but I do care what you think. Probably more than I should.

But, honestly, that’s one of the reasons I wrote the last post. Lately, I’ve been inspired to take chances. My whole life, I have played it safe. I have followed the rules and colored like WAAAY inside the lines. I still follow rules (just ask my hubby and my 6-year-old daughter), but I realize that I need to let my crayon travel outside those boundaries every once in a while. Like many other things, it is good for the soul.

So I have decided to push myself…in my work, my writing, and my faith. Taking chances not for the sake of taking chances, but to inspire myself to do more, to leave a mark. Even it means putting myself out there.

This blog is a “risk” for me. Yes, I am a writer by trade, but I am a journalist. I deal with research, facts, and figures. I write with my head. But this, this is my heart. And that is a scary thing.

But I am pushing myself. Writing about things that might make some people uncomfortable and playing with words in ways that would make my grammar teacher rip her hair out. Yes, we’re talking commas here, but it’s my crayon and my journey. I’m sure yours would look different, but that’s the point.

Push.

Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t about putting a spotlight on me or even this blog. If I only have 3 readers, so be it. It’s about feeling alive. It’s about amazing my God. It’s about inspiring my own children to feed their passions, to not settle for cozy and comfortable.

I feel called to be more. I feel we are all called to be more.

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I literally watch this little girl push herself every single day… joyfully and with much determination. There are just so many things I take for granted. So many things that are EASY.

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But the blessing, my friends, isn’t in the easy. It’s in the hard. The uncomfortable. The more.

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Push.

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Making it Work… (and linking up with Small Style)

Shirt: Target, Kendall hand-me-down
Skirt: Old Navy, Kendall hand-me-down
Tights: Baby Gap, niece hand-me-down

*P.S. Putting this brown skirt with a gray top was VERY outside of the lines for me. I know, I know… nothing says “carpe diem” like a brown skirt. Let’s call it “mocha,” shall we? 😉

Imperfect

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I planned on going to bed early tonight, but here I sit, again, at the computer screen. I have had so many posts half-written in my head, but somehow they haven’t made it onto the screen.

That seems to be happening a lot lately. I have the best of intentions, yet my follow-through hasn’t been the best. I feel like I have been letting down so many people…friends, the girls, Jeff, God.

I used to think I was “anal,” but with the humbling gift of children, I realized I am not at all anal — or organized — but I am a perfectionist. And perfectionism can paralyze you at times. You know Black Swan… that really dark, twisted movie that most people would never see again? I totally got it. Not sure I would ever see it again, but I think I was more disturbed by how much it spoke to me. Sometimes your own expectations can, well, kill you. The quest to be “perfect.” It often stops me in my tracks, frozen and staring straight into the face of failure.

Real-life example: I go to Bible study on Monday nights. I am not saying this to get a notch in my belt. Actually, quite the opposite. I have been HORRIBLE about getting my lessons done. There are 5 per week and that’s a lot for this season in my life. And although that might be understandable, the expectation still hovers over me…another thing that didn’t get done.

It was tempting not to go tonight. I haven’t done a lesson for weeks and wouldn’t be able to participate. And I don’t do “quiet” or “listen” well. But I went. It was our last study, and I didn’t want to let myself down or disappoint my group. I made a commitment, and the least I could do was show up. Plus, I kinda wanted a Mommy night out before Jeff heads out of town for a few days.

And, of course, in all of his awesomeness, God totally spoke to me tonight. Like A LOT. He used my “listening” — my failure to do the lessons — to bless me. Can I tell you how much I love that about Him? How He loves me despite my many shortcomings and works to show me that my weaknesses are there to push me forward, to help me grow…not to hinder me.

To be clear, that guilt about the lessons was not Him…it was me. He, on the other hand, found a way to show me I am loved, even when I neglect to make time for the most important thing in my life. He blessed me simply because I showed up…empty-handed, yes, but with a willing heart. And truly, friends, that is all it takes.

On the way home, I ended up getting an opportunity to do something nice for two people I love very much, and it felt so good. Not just because I actually followed through on something I have been wanting to do for weeks now, but because God orchestrated a night to bless me, to encourage me. And I never even asked.

This may not be my most well-written post, nor will it have my usual “zinger” at the end, but I don’t care. Today, I dedicate this post to Him. To thank Him for his love, His grace, and His patience with me as I try to figure out His will for my life. I trust that He will see my intention, and that will be enough. Tonight, I am humbled and honored to be His daughter, imperfections and all.

Real

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“Mommy, why are you putting on makeup?” she asks me, eyes wide.

I am finally getting to me. Everyone else clothed, fed, washed. I decide to put on some mascara in an effort to make an effort. Or maybe it’s because the mom I will see when I drop off Kendall at her playdate is 10 years younger than me.

Through the mirror, I see that Brooklyn is still happily playing with the plastic top from my mousse and some other random blocks/toys I sprawled on the bathroom floor. Please don’t hit your head on the tile. But I let her play because I know I should.

The question is still there, hanging…waiting for an answer. She asks me again, although I have not forgotten.

“Mom-meeeee, why are you putting on makeup?”

I wonder why parenting has to be so hard. Such a simple question, yet it has my head spinning. I want to be honest, yet carefully word the answer so that an impressionable young female heart isn’t given the wrong message.

Why AM I putting on makeup? I guess it is a good question after all.

I muster up an answer that I am sure is all sorts of wrong, but it’s all I got: “Because it makes Mommy feel good. I don’t have to put it on. I just I want to.”

It seems to appease her, and she disappears into my closet. I continue applying the mascara, now annoyed that they can’t seem to design a brush that will actually separate my lashes without clumps.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

“Look, Mommy!” she giggles. One of her famous shoe fashion shows. Today, she’s chosen the camel booties that I bought 8 years ago  — pre-kids and when I worked full time and spent way too much money at Ann Taylor and Nordstrom. I’m still not sure if they will “pass” this season as booties, or if they will look like I am trying too hard and missed.

She shuffles past Brooklyn, who I now see has opened a tampon and is sucking on it. I take it away. Kendall disappears back into the closet.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Now, it’s the purple boots my Mom bought me 5 years ago when I wanted something that made me feel like I wasn’t a Mom. Not that I don’t loving being a Mom. I just don’t want to necessarily look like a Mom. Well, I guess I just want to look like a trendy Mom. Or maybe I just don’t want to look old.

Emma now enters the bathroom and asks me for the millionth time if it’s time for her play date. I instantly feel guilty that I forgot she was home. Then I feel guilty that I am dropping her off at a play date when she has the day off. And then I feel guilty that Kendall also has a play date on the same day. I didn’t it really plan it that way. It just happened. I hosted the last two here, but I still feel bad. They are both beyond excited, which only makes me feel a little better.

The Mommy clock is ticking, and I’m starting to lose them. Brooklyn is trying to army crawl to me — Please, please don’t hit your head — and Kendall is whining about snack. I reach for my cell phone, which is now my watch, and see that I’ve spent a whopping 15 minutes getting ready yet I’ve only managed makeup and clean teeth.

I look in the mirror, grimace at my hair, and throw it into a ponytail, deciding that I can get away with it because of the mascara.

But then I put on some over-sized earrings and grab my riding boots, just in case.

Tug, Tug, Tug

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This one is growing up way too fast, and I am trying hard to figure out how to let go while still staying close.
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This one cracks me up, but has a sensitive heart that I pray we are filling much more than we are hurting.
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This one is giving me more strength these days than she will ever realize, and I am convinced now more than ever that she was meant for me — and not the other way around.
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My three loves, pulling my heart strings in all sorts of directions but somehow holding me together; tugging and mending, just enough so that the love overflows.

*****
(Linking up to Small Style at Mama Loves Papa)

Making it work…
Emma: cardigan and belt- Target; jeans- Gap

Kendall: coat- Target, Emma hand-me-down; cords- Kohls, Emma hand-me-down; shoes- Koala Kids, friend hand-me-down

Brooklyn: dress- Old Navy, Kendall hand-me-down; leggings- Gymboree, niece hand-me-down; hat- gifted,  Kendall-hand-me down