In this together...

We took a few bike rides this week. By "we" I mean all five of us. This may not seem like a huge accomplishment, but to me it felt huge. I had to curb my excitement while I pedaled as slowly as possible so I wouldn't run into Joshie and his training wheels. These rides wouldn't have been a possibility last year – with an infant who couldn't quite sit up in the cart and a three-year-old who could barely pedal beyond the corner and certainly wouldn't have stood (or sat) to ride like a baby.

But we're on the road now. And I'm so thankful – even if our maiden voyages may have included a couple stops for lost sandals, a tree that "jumped out right in front" of Caleb, and a loose chain incident that involved a nice, older lady driving through our neighborhood in search of Tim (who had ridden ahead with the faster one) to come and rescue assist his wife.

A few weeks ago, gathered around a table with my small group, we discussed life with small children. Between the five couples we have 14 children, and half of them are still in diapers. As we talked, I mentioned all the people who are quick to remind me that with older children will just come bigger problems or that our stress hasn't even begun. But then Jenni, who has the oldest children of the group, interrupted to assure us that everyday tasks will, in fact, get easier. She gave us hope that in the coming years our children will be able to strap their own seat belts, put on their own shoes, sleep past 7 a.m., and even wipe their own little butts. You could feel the collective shoulders of the group loosen and our breathing become more relaxed.

I went to a women's retreat once where the speaker joked about the tendency for women to be skilled in the art of comparison, and Glennon from Momastery, just recently wrote about the dangers of mom-petition.  And it's so true. But we don't always compete to do things better. Sometimes we compete to have it worse. Too often, when a woman finds herself in a pit, it may seem tempting to jump into that pit together – or even to dig a deeper pit next door – rather than to give a little hope and a hand to crawl up.

I've become more aware in recent days that the best thing we moms could do for each other, especially when someone vents or shows a little vulnerability, is exactly what Jenni did. Listen empathetically and give hope. Honor each other's struggles, without trying to one-up them. Avoid getting competitive with our complaining.

Maybe when someone tells me how busy she is, I don't have to try to convince her that I'm busier. Perhaps when someone's mouthy kid is giving her a nervous twitch, it's not necessary to tell a story about how my kid was so much worse yesterday. And when I see a sleep-deprived new mom yawn, I don't have to remind her that someday she'll be just as tired when she's waiting for her kids to get home at night.

I'm thankful for all the moms in the next stage of life who take the time to nod with understanding and hold out a hand. For those who value community over comparison, and offer authenticity over advice.

If you're a mom, I'm betting you don't need any convincing that it's a hard job. I'm guessing that what you could use is a little encouragement, some prayers, a hug, and, oh, and maybe a grande latte.