Red Vine Spirituality

Taylor K. Arthur balances Bipolar 1 Disorder, marriage, and motherhood with a nitty-gritty faith inspiring a twisted, blissful life.

Category: Nitty Gritty Mama (page 1 of 6)

What No One Tells You At Your Baby Shower

Motherhood keeps surprising me. I just relaxed into the routine of summer with kids home full-time lolly gaggin’ around the house and whining bored. I just settled into morning snuggles and afternoon swims, grilled dinners on paper plates after the sun sets to our backs. Now it’s over. And this turning of the seasons from green grass to golden leaves always stings me just a bit. Why? It’s more than just summer being ended or school beginning; a whole season has packed up and left me. We’ve phased in seasons from summer to fall, but as a family, from babies to big boys. And this mama stares change in the face again, to find her way into a new season, to swim the current of motherhood’s phasing. Continue reading

For your Noah days

This afternoon, driving Abraham home from school, I plow through bouts of rain and breaking sun and brake lights and ask the usual, “So who spoke at chapel today?” and “How was your teacher? Were all the kids good?” He chomps down the rest of his lunch and reluctantly doles out snippets of his day. Continue reading

Why I tell my kids I’m sorry

Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.
Ephesians 4:1-3 NIV

It was 11:30 at night, and I was deeply asleep. All of a sudden I heard, like a tickle I couldn’t ignore, “Mama? Mama?”

It was quiet and harmless at first, but slowly a little voice calling my name pulled me from my cozy slumber, out of my bed, and down the hallway toward the boy’s room.

The source of the tickle was Samuel, laying sideways in his bottom bunk with one leg propped up on the bunk bed ladder, lounging as if he were sitting next to a pool instead of systematically waking his family up in the middle of the night.

Let me just say: I was already perturbed.
Continue reading

Tardy Artys

Two falls ago, when Abraham began preschool, I went through—what shall we call it?—a Momzilla season. Continue reading

When you’re drowning in laundry . . . or life

I had been folding laundry for days. We had just returned from taking the boys camping this summer, and I was exhausted. But there was hope to be found. Continue reading

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