Brie Gowen

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The Conversation I Just Had With My Child That Rocked Me!

February 13, 2022 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

I’m going to share a story with you. I almost titled this “my parenting regret,” but regret is probably a strong word. I know I’ve been a good mom, but do you ever look back, wish you could hit rewind, and do things a different way? Maybe my particular hindsight can help you see things in a different light.

I was driving in the car this past week with all three of my daughters, when my eleven year old said, “I’m glad that I’m getting to know you better, now.”

Confused, I asked, “what do you mean?”

She answered, “well, I just feel like I get to see you more now than I did when we lived in the blue house.”

She was referring to our life before traveling, our life before leaving our small town, but most importantly, our existence before we truly discovered what’s important in life. Allow me to recap for those unfamiliar with our personal life.

Almost five years ago I came to a place in life where I realized I wasn’t happy. I mean, I was happy. I had a great husband, children I loved, a wonderful home, and so much more. Yet… something was amiss. I was stressed, struggling, and considered myself what many women affectionately call one another, a “hot mess.” I was always running, always busy, and stretched on every side. My husband owned a business and worked six days a week, at least twelve hours a day, and even on his off day, he was sometimes doing stuff for work. I worked part-time, 24 hours a week, but homeschooled the girls five days a week, and spent my spare time (I know, hilarious) working a side business to try and earn extra income. Crazy. I felt like I was a single parent, breastfeeding around the clock, and striving to be better at all the things. It. Was. Exhausting. I was stressed, my husband was stressed, and apparently so were my children.

Back to present day, riding in the car, I continue the conversation with my oldest, “that’s weird, cause I work more now than I did then!”

Work may not be the best description here. More specifically, I work outside the home more now than then, but looking back, I suppose I was always working on something during that season of the “blue house” as my child put it.

My daughter replied, “yeah, I know, you work more now, but back then it seemed like I never saw you.”

Interested in this line of conversation I purposely asked, “who do you feel was home more, me or your dad?”

She replied quickly, “Dad.”

You know, the dad who worked six, full days a week!

I continued, “I was home way more than him. You don’t remember me there?!”

I watched her contemplation, and then she replied, “I guess I remember doing school with you, but I hated school.”

Ahh, yes, my initiation into homeschooling. Now, if I did call something a regret, it would definitely be how I handled schooling my child at five to six years old. Instead of looking at her as an individual learner, I compared her to other children. I compared her to her public school cousin the same age. I compared her to my SIL’s child who started reading at four, or my other nephew who had no troubling picking up his phonics in kindergarten. But I think my big mistake was the doubt I had for myself as her teacher. I was afraid I wasn’t doing good enough for her, so I unintentionally pushed her too hard, basing my worth as an educator on her unique performance. She would cry through her reader, and I would yell a lot. No wonder she banished it from her memory!

But it gets worse. The nail in the coffin.

She added, “oh, and you cleaned a lot.”

From the backseat my nine year old chips in, “yeah, you cleaned a lot back then.”

Sigh.

Not to be outdone, my eleven year old continues, “I can remember Dad being home really well! He would take me to Walmart, buy me a toy, and we’d sit on the couch watching Sponge Bob and eating Oreos all day.”

First, I made sure I relayed this to my husband later. He had mentioned to me more than once regret over not being around more when our girls were little. After I told this little story, he had peace that they only remembered that time of his overworking with fondness, and he hadn’t mucked things up too bad after all. I suppose all parents are their own worst enemy.

This conversation in the car didn’t so much guilt me as it taught me. I wasn’t drowning in regret, but it did rock my thinking. My husband had one day off a week, but that one day he made sure was quality time. That’s what our girls, six and four at the time, remembered.

I had focused on the things I thought were important at the time. Housework, ensuring my five year old knew all her sight words for the week, cooking every night, and building my business that was supposed to financially bring both of us parents home. I had rushed us to dance classes and homeschool co-op’s, but I had not taken as much time just to simply enjoy them being little.

Ok, I’ll look at this from all angles. I understand that things need to be done. If I didn’t clean the house, we would have been covered in our own trash. And reading is fundamental! Ha! Building my future via a small business was a wonderful plan, and activities and classes are important to childhood development. So, what’s the takeaway?

Remember when I said we had learned what was important over the past four years while traveling? See, we made a decision to sell our big house, sell our possessions, trade in the two cars for one vehicle, and travel for work so one parent could stay at home fulltime. We realized we didn’t need all the square footage. We realized we didn’t need to work more to have more stuff, but we did really enjoy more time. By doing the above, huge life-shift, we discovered what was important to us. Time with one another.

I can’t turn back the clock on the first six years of my oldest daughter’s upbringing, but I can move forward a little wiser. I can understand that young children won’t remember things like the fully-balanced meals every night or what grade they got in their school subjects, but they will remember Oreos and snuggles. Our relationship won’t be built on a foundation of how many days I was home from work with them, but rather the quality of the days we did have. And I’m telling you, as a fulltime working mom, that’s a huge deal. As mothers, we can often feel guilty for working out of the home, but if my experience teaches you anything, know that sometimes you can be home, but not really be there.

If anything, remember to be there when you’re there. That’s what I do now. As a working mother I don’t focus on quantity of the time with those I love, as much as the quality of the time we have. If you’ve lost a parent, like me, then you’ll understand a grieving child mostly wishes for “just one more day.”

I guess my goal, at this season in life, is to leave a legacy of quality. That the time I shared with my children will be fondly remembered as time well-spent, and while they’ll probably still grieve for one more day, more importantly they will recall fondly the days we had, no matter how many there were.

How Being a Busy Mom Almost Killed Me

February 15, 2018 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

Let’s just be honest. Women are amazing! We’re pros of problem solving, masters of multitasking, and heroes of all the hats. Women can work out of the home while simultaneously holding down the home front. We cook nutritious meals, run a taxi service for our children, craft like crazy, make our spouses feel special, teach life lessons on the daily, and look amazing doing it. Well, mostly anyway. We strive to do all the things, all the time, and very well. In years past I have applauded myself on my ability to multitask. Homeschooling, homemaking, mothering, working businesses inside the home and out. I was proud of myself and all I could accomplish, but I was also tired. I was frustrated, flustered, and many days ended with me in regret for how I had handled the challenges of the day. I mean, I was getting all the things done, but was that necessarily a good thing?

I can’t tell you how many times I would lose my temper with my young children, raise my voice, maybe throw my own temper tantrum (just being honest), and then feel like total crap afterwards.

“Why, God?!” I would pray. “Why can’t I keep it together?!”

Years went by. Years, y’all. Years where I prayed to not be short-tempered or frustrated. I would make the conscious decision to take my daughters places, to get them involved in activities, but then I’d be in a bad mood getting us out the door. I was typically fine once we got there, but as the relief washed over me while I watched my children I wondered why I couldn’t feel that contentment all the time.

Some mornings I would wake up feeling anxious or depressed. All the planning made no difference in the difficulty. And I got to where I desperately craved the days where we had absolutely nothing planned. They were a much needed respite that went by too fast. I kept hearing that childhood went by far too quickly, and I also knew this to be true. But let’s be straightforward here. Many days I wanted to put on fast-forward to get them over with so I could finally relax. Does that sound awful?

At some point I came to a place where I realized I wasn’t enjoying my motherhood as much as I should. Why did it have to be so hard, so exasperating? Was that just par for the course? Or was it perhaps partially my doing? I had always taken pride in being busy. I think that’s a woman thing. I equated being busy with being productive, and it’s like the more things I could accomplish the more accomplished I was as a mother. But if I was angry and frustrated internally most of the time then what was the point? It was a motive check.

I had always thought that more was better. The more I provided for my kids the better. More toys, more clothes, more opportunities. More activities, more social gatherings, more going places. We may have been going, but I was drowning. I realized one day I felt like I had been treading water for a solid two years, and I also understood that I couldn’t keep it up. I was barely surviving, and my kids weren’t any better for it. There were the things that I thought mattered. And then there were the things that really did. My kids didn’t need more of the things. They needed more of me. They needed a happy mom, both parents working less, and healthy, calm relationships with us. What good was busy if it really didn’t amount to anything of eternal value?

I realized I had to let go of a lot of things. I had to let go of stuff, drop the extra activities I thought made me a better, cooler mom, and understand I wasn’t really on anyone’s timeline but my own. A lot of the chaos and stress in our lives we create, and the real question is why. Why do we create busy lives and equate that with happy, productive, successful lives? And whose standard is it anyway?

Mentally and emotionally, I was slowly killing myself. I loved my children, and I loved doing things for them, but what they really needed was a mom who wasn’t stressed out most of the time. They needed the relaxed, fun-loving mom I knew I could be. I was just distracted from being her by all the tiny, unimportant things that wrongly filled our house, schedule, and priority list.

Each day I’m learning to let go of preconceived notions of how a social media society or misaligned world says I should parent. I’m laying down unrealistic expectations for myself that my children don’t even consider important. No one knows what you can let go of, but you, but I’m discovering it’s always more than we think. To stop, take inventory of what matters, and drop the rest, that’s freedom. I’m learning to smile more, hurry less, and laugh a lot. I’m remembering to not sweat the small stuff, but instead enjoy the small things in life. I’m focusing on family, love, and wherever that takes us.

Embrace the Chaos

August 18, 2017 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

Do you ever find yourself falling off the cliff of day-to-day life? Like, you’re hanging onto the eroding edge by a sliver of poorly-maintained fingernail, and you know you’re gonna drop into full, fly-off-the-handle mode? You know you’re close to meltdown, and you’re trying to talk yourself off the edge, but it seems like the universe is in opposition to your desires to remain cool, calm, and collected.

That’s me some days. 

That’s me today. 

So, it’s totally first world problems I find myself fretting over, and really that’s probably the case nine times out of ten. My logical brain, or perhaps the good angel sitting on my shoulder, says, don’t sweat the small stuff, Brie. You are blessed. Calm down. 

But then the antsy, anxious side of my brain, with the cartoon devil sitting on my shoulder, says, hurry up. You gotta finish everything, but of course, there isn’t enough time!

This is the part of me that thinks I can’t tell people no. It’s the part that wants everything practically perfect in every way, with all my ducks in a row, but then reacts like a bull in a China shop when something falls out of line. It’s like my Mary Poppins persona starts getting an eye twitch, or perhaps it’s akin to those Snicker commercials. After all, I’m not myself when I realize I am less than absolutely marvelous. Oh, me. 

So today I found myself less than thirty six hours from a grownup getaway with some ladies I work with, and I realized I had only about a billion things left to do. And I know Jesus keeps whispering to me outta Matthew that I can move mountains, but Lord, I find it darn impossible today. I reckon cause I was trying to move them on my own. 

My bag wasn’t packed, but I wanted to spend quality time with my children who wouldn’t be going with me. I had a mound of laundry to put away (because I have this crazy thing that before I go somewhere the house must be spotless), yet I also had prior obligations to friends and coworkers. I felt overwhelmed by my to-do list, overweight for my swimsuit, and overdue for a mental breakdown. And the realization that my anger and anxiety were about having too much awesome in my amazing life, that made me feel like a big, fat loser! So why did I still want to yell about everything?!

If having three children in six years has taught me anything, it’s that I know nothing. It’s that I am utterly human, fragile to the point of ridiculousness, and an absolute failure most days. Sadly my kids are sometimes witness to my crazy, but I suppose it helps them learn a little about grace to know that even Mommy doesn’t have her act together. When I realize I’m upset over slow Wifi, a refrigerator that needs cleaning out, or too much laundry, I understand I really do have my priorities mixed up. Those are actually things of blessing! I’m reminded that, as always, I’m a work in progress. Trying to see life with eyes like Jesus isn’t always easy when your sight is clouded by the worries of this world, but I am glad that I can see it after the fact rather than not at all. 

As I stood in the hallway today overcome by how silly and temperamental I could be about the things that didn’t really matter, I decided to embrace the things that did. I went into the living room and I called my girls to me. I hugged them deeply and hard. I breathed in the calmness of their love for me even when I’m less than my best. I felt better after that. 

Some days I guess you just gotta embrace the chaos. 

*I share my struggles in the hopes it helps someone feel less alone. Mentionable of this post: I don’t believe in “a universe against me,” but I do believe in a God who controls it all. Sometimes you just feel like the universe is against you, right? Also, I don’t believe an angel and devil sit on my shoulders like the old cartoons, but I do believe in spiritual attacks and influence not of God. Just thought I’d add this. Thanks y’all. 

What God Wants Moms to Know

June 7, 2017 by brieann.rn@gmail.com


I live a very busy life as a wife, small business owner, nurse, and most of all, mom. I am constantly pouring out of myself into the lives of others. It’s fabulous, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But that doesn’t mean it’s not exhausting. It doesn’t mean it’s not hard. It doesn’t mean I’m immune to depression or rage just because I’m blessed with four precious daughters. In the chaos and flustered rush I’m actually more prone to these things. That’s just how it is. 

Late last night I felt led to open up a daily devotional book that I honestly only get around to occasionally. I enjoyed the message within, but quickly went to bed as I was beat. The obscure verse had left my mind completely until it popped up again this morning in a totally different Bible plan I was reading. 

Zephaniah 3:17 (NIV)

The Lord your God is with you,
    the Mighty Warrior who saves.

He will take great delight in you;

    in his love he will no longer rebuke you,

    but will rejoice over you with singing.”

It was at that moment I felt the Lord speak to my heart. To me, the busy mom, the weary woman, the hustling business lady, the overwhelmed, but loving wife. But mostly, the daughter. The daughter of a king, I was, but not just that. I was adored. The thought still took me off guard most days. 

God said,

I delight in you. 

So many days I gave so much of myself towards the people and things that I loved that I forgot how important it was for me to remember that I was loved. Sure, I knew my husband loved me, and the kids did too. But what women doesn’t struggle through some days picking up stray toys, serving the needs of her family, working to help provide, and wonder for a moment if she’s appreciated. 

I delight in you. 

The fact is in any given day I would never complete all the many things I desired to complete. I just wouldn’t. But I could do this. I could take a moment to sit at my Father’s feet and allow Him to pour His love out upon me. I could relish in His delight, bask in His presence, and know that despite any challenges I faced on the daily that I was not alone. My Lord went before me and made the way, but most importantly, when I lost my way He was there. 

I delight in you. 

So even when I fouled up, messed up, and made a general mess of it all He still felt the same way about me. He didn’t measure my worth by what I could accomplish. He loved me regardless. And not only that; He was proud of me. Ha. Imagine that?!

With that knowledge in my heart I knew I could face any day because I did not face it alone. I walked with a Father who took delight in me. Sometimes that’s what we all need to hear. 

Just Breathe

May 6, 2017 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

I keep busy. 

That’s probably an understatement. As a homeschooling mom, with three of my daughters six years old and under, I am always doing something. Just the everyday tasks of life keep me busy. When you add anything extra I almost feel like The Leaning Tower of Pisa, or perhaps akin to those folks in the commercials who haven’t had a V8. I feel off balance, off kilter, and completely overwhelmed. I’ve about accepted that’s the phase of life I am in right now. 
This day this past week was like any other day. I had completed school with my daughters, and since we had plans outside of the home for the evening there was a bit more flurry of activity than usual. Sometimes, make that most times, when you have small children just getting out the door is a huge ordeal. On this particular afternoon I had given baths, and I was assisting my three smalls girls to get dressed. Simultaneously I was cleaning the house, or perhaps make that straightening it up to the point that it wasn’t quite so much of an eyesore, and I was also preparing dinner to cook in the crockpot while we were away. 

As I washed off the potatoes I had just peeled my toddler came around the corner with a mischievous grin. 

“Get your shoes.” I instructed sweetly. “Get your shoes if you want to go.”

I started cubing potatoes and adding them to the pot. Within a minute or two my toddler returned with a proud smile on her face and a single shoe in her hands. 

“Get the other one.” I told her. “You need two shoes.”

And off she went around the corner. I finished preparing dinner, and after turning the crockpot timer to three hours I walked around the corner where my baby girl had last gone. I was confronted immediately with her handiwork. In the hall floor lay not only every shoe she owned, but also a dozen or so others belonging to the rest of the family. She was searching tirelessly among the pile for the mate to her pink sandal. I quickly glimpsed it hiding in plain sight in a corner of the hall, and I sat down in the floor to gather up and match shoes. 

I wasn’t flipping out, yelling, or anything like that, although to be honest I’d been known to do all of the above on occassion, especially when in a hurry to head out the door. Despite my lack of frustration I suppose my four year old sensed something in me, just below the surface. It was that tense, harried persona that was the norm for a busy, chaotic life. My four year old had come up behind me quietly, and I didn’t even realize she was there until she spoke. 

“Just breathe, Mom.” She said in her signature, squeaky voice. 

My mind went to breathing exercises and counting backwards from ten to ward off rage, a common technique in anger management. 

“Who told you about that?” I asked in amusement. 

She answered quickly, “you know. The song. Just breathe.” Then she began to sing the chorus. 

Later I pulled up the song on my phone, and as I drove down the road with my children buckled up in the back behind me, tears rolled down my eyes as I listened to words that surely had been written about me. 

Alarm clock screaming bare feet hit the floor

It’s off to the races everybody out the door

I’m feeling like I’m falling behind, it’s a crazy life

Ninety miles an hour going fast as I can

Trying to push a little harder trying to get the upper hand

So much to do in so little time, it’s a crazy life

It’s ready, set, go it’s another wild day

When the stress is on the rise in my heart I feel you say just
Breathe, just breathe

Come and rest at my feet

And be, just be

Chaos calls but all you really need

Is to just breathe
Third cup of joe just to get me through the day

Want to make the most of time but I feel it slip away

I wonder if there’s something more to this crazy life

I’m busy, busy, busy, and it’s no surprise to see

That I only have time for me, me, me

There’s gotta be something more to this crazy life

I’m hanging on tight to another wild day

When it starts to fall apart in my heart I hear you say just
Breathe, just breathe

Come and rest at my feet

And be, just be

Chaos calls but all you really need
Is to take it in fill your lungs

The peace of God that overcomes

Just breathe

So let your weary spirit rest

Lay down what’s good and find what’s best

Just breathe
Just breathe, just breathe

Come and rest at my feet

And be, just be

Chaos calls but all you really need

Is to just breathe

Just breathe

-Jonny Diaz

Life was crazy, chaotic, and beyond busy, but it was also so abundantly blessed. In the moments where I felt overwhelmed I was best reminded to just breathe. My four year old daughter delivered a word from the Lord that I really needed right at that moment. Perhaps it’s one you needed to hear today. 

Just breathe. 

My Busy is My Blessing

March 3, 2017 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

I felt the blood throbbing at my temples, a headache slowly crept along the perimeter of my vision, and my mood was one of utter defeat. I had lost my temper, or rather had nearly lost my mind, and as I had raked crumbs of crumpled biscuit that had somehow escaped the trash can and found their home instead on my couch, carpet, and coffee table, I had uttered over and over, “I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep doing this!” 

Tears had welled up in my eyes, my heart had beat with frustration and anger, and I had even cried out a few, “oh God, help me’s.” I had somehow snapped in the midst of movement, and I had hit a wall in my flurry of daily routine. A well-meaning friend had even suggested, “you need a break, honey,” but all I had thought was, I can’t take a break. I’m a mother. This is what it is!

The fact was that I existed in a busy time of life. I was a mother of four, and three of them were six years old and under. I homeschooled, I ran a home, I ran a small skincare business, I wrote, I worked PRN as a nurse, and I did a little bit of everything in between. I seemed to be so busy all of the time, and most of the time I just ran along with it. But some days. Some days I had a mini mental breakdown. 

But today the Lord also reminded me of something very important. As I went about my busy morning I mentally tallied up the things I wanted to complete that day. I prayed for God to help me manage my time wisely and to help me walk through my day with grace. In retrospect I might should have asked for a double portion of that last one, but His words did serve well later when they came back to my mind. His words echoed through my heart, and they were the reminder to help me step back from the cliff of my unraveling moment that occurred in the midst of my crazy, but beautiful life. 

God had spoken to my heart, 

your busy is your blessing.

Every single thing in my day that caused it to be busy was a wonderful gift. 

Sometimes I was certain my young children existed to undo every single thing I did. If I cleaned it, they would mess it up. And I so happened to typically be one of those grumbling housekeepers. I would stomp back and forth picking up discarded socks and empty cups mumbling to myself under my breath. As I swept the floor a fifth time that day I would speak to the tiles, “no one knows how to do anything but me!” What I tended to forget was that each mess, although a nuisance, was a concrete representation of my full life. Crumbs were a reminder of fat, healthy babies, and dirty laundry an example of how well-provided for we are as a family. 

When I was busy with my business I was blessed with a large team, a growing customer base, and a wonderful opportunity to provide for my family from home. 

When I was busy with compiling and teaching school lessons to my girls, or heading out of the home for school activities with other homeschooling families I was being provided an amazing chance to educate my children at our kitchen table. I was able to teach them about Jesus, help them understand the things that were important in this life, and also be afforded time with them. Time was so fleeting when they were young. Busy, but worth it I say!


I was only given so much of it. Time that is. And though this time of my life, with very young children, was an extremely busy one, it was also a blessing. Every single hustle and bustle signified a full life, full home, and full heart. My busy was my blessing, and I could get along with that. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t have my moments of frazzle and frustration, but it did mean I didn’t have to stay there. I could move forward in the truth of how beautiful my life truly was. Biscuit crumbles and all. 

Meet Brie

Brie is a forty-something wife and mother. When she's not loving on her hubby or playing with her three daughters, she enjoys cooking, reading, and writing down her thoughts to share with others. She loves traveling the country with her family in their fifth wheel, and all the Netflix binges in between. Read More…

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