No More Pity Parties

We have entered Day 8 of sick kids in our house. Some fancy mom blog post is not going to happen. But, I can share this with you.

Having sick kids is the worst. At this point, I have only taken 3 showers in 8 days. It took me a week to do the laundry (which I normally complete in one day). I have forgotten what it feels like to be in public, and so have my kids. The poor people at the doctor’s office got an earful from all of us when we had human contact with people outside our home for the first time in days. We are tired and cranky. But, we know that having kids means that inevitably we will deal with seasons like this one.

Another reason to be thankful

So, in an effort to show gratitude, here are some positives:

1. No puke. Hal-le-lu-jah! 
2. I work from home. For all my working mom friends, I do not know how you do it with sick kids.
3. My son’s school and his teachers are just the best. My husband went to pick up his stuff on Friday (he missed the ENTIRE week), and his teacher had packed him up special St. Patrick’s Day treats for him and his sister. *This was after she had already emailed me more than once to check on him.
4. This has been our “most healthy” school year so far. I’ll take it.
5. My parents live nearby now (Praise the Lord!), so my dad was able to drop off Gatorade and crackers and other essentials.
6. A sweet friend dropped off brownies on the doorstep and sent me funny memes to encourage me. So thankful for a great tribe!
7. Pajamas are comfortable. Amen, 
8. We have an abundance of television streaming options to keep sick kids entertained.
9. My husband brought home multiple take home dinners so we wouldn’t have to cook or clean.
10. My kids just have a viral cold. I am beyond thankful that my children do not suffer from chronic or life-threatening illnesses. 

It would be really easy to throw a pity party today. And, there have been plenty of pity parties over the past few days. (Both kids home all week gave me a particularly terrifying glimpse into the upcoming summer break.) But, truly, besides being stir-crazy and desperate for adult conversation, I don’t have much to complain about.

Instead of focusing on another day with a sick kid, I am going to be thankful for being able to afford healthcare when so many others (in America and especially elsewhere) cannot. I am going to be thankful for medications and shelter. I am going to be thankful for an abundance of food and water. I am going to remember that there are mommas all over the world struggling to feed, shelter and protect their babies in the midst of famine or war. And I am going to shut my mouth, bow my head and say a prayer for my babies and theirs.

God continues to rain down manna, and I would hate to become just another grumbling Israelite.

Honest moment: I planned to end this post with a list of organizations you can support to help moms and babies, but that list is just too overwhelming at the moment. What organizations do you support that aid mothers and their children? Let me know in the comments.

Slow Down, Mama

“Slow down, Mama. You walking too fast.”

My two-year-old daughter clearly said that to me on the day of her big girl outing.

I had taken her on a special shopping trip because she achieved a “big girl” status by succeeding in potty training. We went to a store specifically to let her purchase big girl nail polish.

I made a point to let her walk through the store holding my hand rather than putting her in the seat of the grocery cart. It was a day to make her feel grown up, so this was one small step.

She proudly smiled and waved at every stranger she passed. She excitedly told a few, “I a big girl now! I getting a special treat!”

We found the children’s cosmetic section. She proceeded to try to convince me she needed every chapstick, lip gloss, nail polish and body glitter available. I vetoed the body glitter immediately. “No way am I buying you body glitter, Savannah,” I said out loud. A little old lady caught my eye and chuckled and gave me a thumb’s up.

I carried her set of new chapsticks and nail polishes as we walked back through the store and up to the checkout aisle.

On this particular day, we actually run into someone we know. She rushes up to them and proudly announces, “I go potty like a big girl and I get lipstick and finger nail polish!” Everyone in the store hears her. I should be a little embarrassed, but I’m not.

We go up to the self-checkout line and quickly ring up her small purchases. I let her hold the bag.

Then, we leave. Our adventure is over, so I start to rush back to the car to move on to our next errand. And that’s when she clearly says, “Slow down, Mama. You walking too fast.”

It hits me. Not only is my little girl speaking in a way that is understandable, she is telling me something she needs me to hear. Something I need to hear.

Because it is true. I spend much of my time walking too fast. I am constantly wishing my children were just a little bit bigger. A little bit older. A little bit more capable of doing it on their own.

On this day, two years ago. The days are long, but the years are short. 

I was never a kid person. I taught teenagers. That is what I know.

But, I have been given an opportunity to know my own little people. Not to rush them to the next phase, but to help them understand the phase they are in. Whether I like it or not.

And let’s be honest. Some toddler days are not ones I like. But, then there are so many days when toddlers remind you of what needs to be seen. Like walking too fast.

So, that day, I slowed down. I took the time to let her appreciate holding her bag of big girl cosmetics and holding mommy’s hand rather than being seat belted in a grocery cart. I took the time to let her giver herself a manicure and give me one too rather than trying to do it quickly and without any mistakes.

It was the best manicure I have ever had.

She is too young to remember this day, but I will. I will remember the day she told her mom exactly what she needed and precisely what I needed to hear.

I will try to remember it the next time I wish she was just a little more independent because one day she will be and there will be no need for me anymore.

Thank God, today is not that day. 

If I Can Do This Blogging Thing, Anyone Can

A month and a half. A lot can happen in a month in a half. In school years, you can fight with friends, make up with friends and get new best friends in that amount of time.

In mom years, a month and a half can go by in the blink of an eye or seem to stretch of the period of a thousand years. As the saying goes, “The years are short, but the days are long.” Amen and amen.

I started this little blog a month and a half ago. I started it not knowing what I was doing (I still don’t). But, I look a brave step. I went in a direction I never expected to go in. I never thought I could go in, if I’m being honest.

I had a teacher once tell me that I wasn’t a writer. And I believed him. I still do most days. I am no great writer. I am not super creative or poetic. I don’t have anything to give – except my own stories and my opinions on books.

And ultimately, if I have a place on the big scary internet where I can safely record my stories and my thoughts, that is great. If I can use them to help others, then even better.

In just a month and a half, I have been overwhelmed by the friends and strangers who have cheered me on and encouraged me to speak honestly and openly. I have laughed, with joy unspeakable, at how many fun things have resulted from something as simple as putting my fingers to the keys.

1. Free Books – so many free books! They are simply mine for the taking! Had I have known that starting a blog would mean publishers would just put their books in my hands for me to tell the world what I think, I would have started this years ago! At this point, I have publicly reviewed 15 books (12 of which were FREE!). And I have a giant list of more free arc’s (advanced reader’s copies by those who don’t know the lingo) waiting for me. Not just any old books either, but books by authors I love and follow. Free, you guys! Why didn’t anyone tell me?!
2. Freelance writing gigs – I have been doing this for a month and a half, and I already have regular paid freelancing gigs for three different clients. It has tickled me to see how funny God thinks He is since my first paid freelancing writing gigs are for a church supply store, a parenting website and a mommy blog. If you had told little old 18 year old me working in a Christian bookstore that one day she’d be using her knowledge of choir robes and communion supplies to get paid to write church blogs, I would have never ever believed you. Further, if you had told that same girl one day she’d make money talking mom stuff, she would have fallen out of her chair laughing.
3. Guest posts – I have had a piece published by another mom blog about a private topic. Again, if you had told me when I was struggling with depression during my pregnancy that I would a.) go public with it b.) that other people would read it c.) that others would not only read it, but respond to it, I would have thought you were egging me on for a big joke (similar to poor Carrie).
4. 47 cents – My blog itself has made a whopping 47 cents. Ha! I can quit my tutoring job now! 

In just a month and half, I have come to learn that blogging is fun and freeing. I’ve also learned that it is hard, and I will be criticized and misunderstood. My first negative comment came from a Christian questioning my book choices. It happens.

But, the most exciting thing I have learned in a month and half is that I can do it. I can put myself out there. I can change course. It is possible for me to continue to stay home (if I so choose to). I never ever thought that something as simple as a space on the internet to record my thoughts about being a mom and books would provide me these opportunities.

If you are following because you know me and are friends with me, thank you. If you are following because you somehow stumbled across my page, thank you. Thank you for letting me add some more thoughts to the gigantic internet and following along for the ride.

Most importantly, if you are someone who is hesitating to put your voice out there or scared to try something new, I encourage you to give it your best shot. A lot can happen in a month and half. As the great Anne Lamott writes in Bird by Bird, “If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must. Otherwise, you'll just be rearranging furniture in rooms you've already been in.”

I swear this is not a piece to do a giant humble brag. I really am just at the point where I want to tell everyone I know to give it their best shot.  If I can do it, you can too. 

Words Matter

Words are powerful. As a reader, I recognize the power words have to open our eyes to new ideas and to change our lives. If I believe that the words I read in the Bible or novels or children’s book are strong enough to teach my kids about life and loving others, then how much more powerful are the words I speak over them? The words we speak over our kids (or do not) speak matter. Some words hurt, but other words heal and speak life and give confidence.

I remember hearing another new mom discuss how her parents were not affectionate. This is something that we hear often. However, she went on to discuss how it was not simply in the absence of physical embraces, but also in their lack of loving and kind words. She could not recall hearing her parents tell her they loved her or they were proud of her. In the same room, a different mom told a story about how she always felt like her parents did not think she was smart or beautiful because they never said so. Since those words were absent, she grew up thinking she did not possess either of these traits.

As a new mom, these conversations seeped deep into my heart and mind. I vowed then that I would go out of my way to make sure my words made my children feel known, safe and loved.

When my oldest child started K3, we had a ten minute car ride in the mornings. We used these peaceful car rides as times to talk about the upcoming day and pray. I cherished these quiet moments with just us in the car. All noise of the morning rush disappeared as we drove down the tree lined roads of our country town in the direction of his school. Between passing cows and haybales, we would talk to one another and to God.

“Dear Lord, thank you so much for another beautiful day. And, thank you for my son. Thank you for blessing me with the opportunity to be his mother. Thank you for giving him a kind and loving spirit. Thank you for making him brave and giving him courage. Thank you for making him such a friendly, outgoing little boy. Thank you for giving him a respectful attitude and an obedient nature. Thank you for giving him a great big brain with a smart mind.”

Knox would sit silently in his little car seat and listen as I praised his strengths in my morning prayers. He loved to hear me thank God for his bravery. He would puff up his little chest and show his muscles. Adorable actions that made my mama heart smile, but also a visual reminder that the words I speak matter. My words are both a reflection of who I believe he can be and a prayer of thankfulness for the God-given traits he seems to already possess.

Apparently, he has already taken note. One morning, I heard this prayer: “And thank you God for making me brave and all those other great things.” So, we have started working on the word “humble” because he now sings his own praises. However, I’d rather him be confident in our love and acceptance than question his value in our eyes.

Now, he is a little older. All those spoken words and prayers praising his courage seem to have laid a foundation. He often takes on the role of the brave knight rushing in to fight the battles for others.

Recently, we attended an elementary friend’s birthday party. I watched him closely from afar to see if all those times I told him he is “loving and kind” are true when he is away from his mom. My heart felt a little squeeze as I watched him lead the kids who were afraid of snakes and other creepy crawly things gently through the reptile room at the science center. He held their hands and spoke quiet words of encouragement. He is using his words to speak simple truths too. I see now that my words have made a difference. His words will make a difference too.

I also have a daughter. She hears the words “pretty,” “cute” and “beautiful” regularly, so I am taking the same approach and also telling her she is brave, kind, smart, loving and strong. Now, she tells me daily, “I so strong” as she picks up and carries her own chair over to me at story time. She believes it because I used those words over and over again.

It is more than simply pointing out traits that are praiseworthy and unique – it is laying a foundation. There will come a day when they both begin to search for who they are on their own, and I hope they will remember their mother’s words during the tough parts of their journeys.

I'm Tired of Hiding It: My Husband is a Great Dad

Get Ready, Friends. I'm about to spew love vomit. 

I do not often publicly brag on my husband because sometimes I feel like other women are giving me dirty looks. There is a pretty common belief among moms that moms are better than dads, and the women who claim that is not true for their families are made to feel freakish. So, I tend to downplay my husband’s exceptional fathering and don't admit there are days he does a better job than me. This is not to suggest I complain about his parenting in front of others; it just means I am hesitant to praise him publicly. But, I am no longer trying to please everyone. Today, I am honoring my husband because this weekend he made me fall in love with him all over again.

This past week has not been a good week for me. My jaw locked Sunday, which means all week I have had a hard time talking, eating, sleeping or just being comfortable. It all cumulated on Friday evening after a doctor’s visit led to a bad drug interaction. My poor husband was up all night with his wife while she shook, cursed, cried, puked and thought she was dying. (This was the worst migraine I have ever experienced. Ever ever.) I finally fell asleep around 7 in the morning. You know, right when the kids wake up on Saturday.

After waking from my sick induced sleep, I felt both shocked and loved by all my husband had done in the hours I slept.

•  He woke up and feed both kids. This is not unusual. He regularly does the morning routine. But still.
• He kept the kids quiet enough I could sleep soundly. This is a miracle in and of itself.
•  He did all the laundry. No; it was not the way I would have done it, but it was done. Our clothes are all clean and folded. 
•  He turned on the country music videos while I slept. This is one of our weird family traditions. I grew up watching the country music countdowns at my Granny’s and I have fond memories of those times with her and those musicians. He knows how much this silly tradition means to me, and while he does not love country music, he still made sure the children got in their weekly dose.
•   He downloaded a makeup app on his cell phone so my daughter could take pictures of herself and “put makeup on.”
• He bought me the largest smoothie Smoothie King sells.

Then, when I woke up, he piled us in the car and drove us to my parent’s house where he helped my dad fix his deck. Seriously, this man. That would have been enough for months of love and adoration in my eyes. But, this morning, I woke up to find him making pink M&M pancakes for our daughter and praising Jesus loudly. And, just to make you gag some more, I walked in on him a few minutes later dancing with her on his feet. That’s it. My husband is a rockstar dad and an incredible husband.

Daddy Daughter Dancing on the Whim

Don’t get me wrong. We’ve been married ten years. We have seen our share of rough seasons and there have been times where we have hurt each other to the point we were worried it was irredeemable. (Those are stories for different days.) However, we have the perfect model of love in our Savior, so in our darkest times as a couple, we have been able to show each other the grace and mercy we don’t deserve.

But, this weekend, I was reminded why I married him the first place. And I am not ashamed to tell anyone. Why is it that we are so excited to gush about how much we love our boyfriends or our fiancés, but then we become quiet once we are married to them? Why is it that dads are always the brunt of mom jokes? Where aren't there more great dads in children’s books or movies? Come on, Disney. Give us some real dads. You can use my husband as the model. 

A Letter to My Strong-Willed Daughter

Darling girl,

When I found out I was pregnant with you, I was scared. I already had your brother and we had settled into a nice routine. I didn’t know how I would adjust to life with two when I wasn’t sure how well I was doing with just one most days.

I already had a child, but you managed to surprise me with how many firsts I would walk through with you.

From the time you were in my womb, you did things in a different way. You wanted sweets, so I craved different things. I gained more weight from eating whole pans of brownies. I felt sick all the time when the first go around was a breeze.

You didn’t stop there. You decided you wanted to rest your sweet head closer to my heart refusing to flip and enter the world the head first. So, my breech babe, you took your first breathe after a c-section. Both firsts.

I spent the first months of your life wearing you on my chest because that is where you were most content to sleep – unless it was between 5-7PM. Then, it was a matter of survival because you screamed nonstop. More firsts.

You smiled early and that made things easier. You fell into your own routine of eating, sleeping, pooping and cuddling. Then, you started to talk. And, then, you started to walk.

When you put those two skills together, you became an unstoppable force. A hurricane level force. I did not know what to do with a baby who knew how to stand her ground. You were only a year old when you started trying to be the one in charge.

Even today, you do not take no for an answer and you will not be quieted when it matters to you. One day, these traits will take you far. But, these days, they sometimes make me throw my own tantrums.

With you, I experienced my first time leaving a grocery cart full of food to deal with a screaming child. There was also a time when we had to eat our restaurant meal in the car. Another time you got us singled out in mommy and me gymnastics class. And more than once I have had to carry you out of a store in a football style hold while you were kicking and screaming.

It has not been easy walking through some of these new firsts. But, my strong-willed daughter, you are also my shimmering star. You light up a room. You demand love from everyone you meet, and really, who could refuse? Between your wicked sense of humor and your constant cuddles, you are a joy. You have the heart and the mind of a warrior. You are so strong.

Jo was always my favorite March sister, and now I have my own strong-willed little woman. Your pregnancy, those first few months and your toddler years were all preparing me to be your mother. I needed to be stronger in order to raise my strong girl. You, baby girl, will be Wonder Woman – Superwoman - The Boss.

There will be many more firsts. I’ll try to remember I’m still learning. And, I’m learning a lot from you.

No One Mothers Like You

If you think politics are divisive, you would be surprised to know that the rules of motherhood are often fraught with choosing sides, picking teams and erecting fences. As soon as you become a parent, it seems like you must decide what kind of parent you will be. It will feel like you need to align yourself  and your values with those most like you.

But, if you choose to surround yourself with other moms who mother just like you, you will end up with very few friends. There is a very simple reason for this occurrence – no one mothers like you. God chose each mom for her individual children. And no two mothers are alike, just as no two children are alike.

I began my mothering experience 6 years ago (including the time when I was first pregnant). As a people-pleasing, affirmation-seeking, rule-follower, I soon found myself struggling to know how to act and what to say because I had read and seen so many different do’s and don’ts before my son even entered the world. It took me years to realize you cannot please everyone. Ultimately, what matters is if you are trying to do what is best for your own family. And, after 6 years in the mom bubble, it seems like this is what most moms are trying to do.

Good mothers in their own ways

In my own little corner of the world, I know moms who:

·           Work full time | work from home | stay home

·         Bottle feed | breastfeed | practice extended breastfeeding

·         Had scheduled c-sections | screamed for epidurals | had water births at home 
    Are attachment parents | are not attachment parents | practice babywearing

·         Vaccinate | vaccinate on a delayed scheduled | are anti-vaccines

·         Home school | send their kids to charter school | public school | private school

·         Eat no sugar | feed their children poptarts for breakfast

·         Spank | use time outs only | practice gentle parenting | refuse to say the word “no”

·         Co-sleep | put the baby in his or her nursery as soon as possible

·         Love pacifiers | no pacifiers

·         Helicopter parent | free range parent

·         Feed on demand | follow schedule feeding

·         Cloth diaper | use disposable diapers

·         Do not let their kids watch tv | let their kids watch tv regularly

I list just these few examples to show that even in my own small sphere, I know women who mother very differently than I do. But, that doesn’t make me right and them wrong. If you choose to look at it this way, then you are depriving yourself of a friend who could teach you a few things and hindering your child from learning about people who do things differently. What a boring world we would live in if everyone’s families looked and acted the same as our own.

The moms I have been honored to walk alongside this parenting journey with have reasons for deciding which side of the either/or they will parent on. I have seldom met a mom who just make decisions ignorantly – most often these decisions are based on her own personal experiences, fears and education. Rather than judging a fellow mom for choosing to stand on the other side of a hot topic, try to see her as a fellow mom who is doing the best she can for her family.

For example, when I hear about moms having babies in the middle of their living rooms, I do not throw my nose up because I had my babies in a hospital. I cheer them on! As Amy Poehler writes in Yes, Please, “Good for her! Not for me.”

When I have weak moments and feel the temptation to judge another mom for choosing the other side, I must try to remember that she is doing what she thinks is best for her family. A little empathy can go a long way. Grace can go even further. 

So You Want to Make Mom Friends

Listen. I’m going to just put it out there. No one tells you that making friends as an adult (after you have left school or college) is not as easy as it looks on tv. No one tells you that making friends after you relocate is challenging. No one tells you that making friends when you are an adult who relocates to a new city and is staying home with kids is more than challenging. I’ll be the one to tell you - it is a friend seeking obstacle course.

I am very thankful to have wonderful friendships with friends I grew up with and friends I met in college. When my husband and I moved from the Atlanta area shortly after we were married to Baton Rouge, I was very lucky to immediately become friends with my coworkers and women at church. So, I thought when we moved from Baton Rouge to the Upstate of South Carolina, it would also happen immediately. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Let me tell you some of my favorite “I’m new here and desperately need friends” stories.

• Upon moving, I began working from home. This eliminated the possibility of friendships with coworkers. After my husband asked me at dinner on numerous occasions what my friends on The View said that day, I knew it was time to put myself out there.
• As a first time pregnant mom, I excitedly signed up for prenatal yoga classes. Hooray! This is where I would find my mom friends. Keep in mind that I had never done yoga a day in my life. After purchasing all my new maternity yoga gear, I headed off to the hospital where the classes would take place. And lo and behold, I was the only class member! This yoga newbie got one-on-one yoga classes. But, sadly, I did not meet my mom friends.
• On another occasion after my son was born, I reached out to a stranger on a local mom website and agreed to meet at her church. I very anxiously attended the church service and she was nowhere to be found. Church tricked, y’all.
• Another time I was super excited to see a couple that we had sat next to in a Sunday School class out at a local restaurant. But, they had no clue who the really happy energetically waving woman was. It was very reminiscent of that iconic scene in Sixteen Candles where Jake Ryan waves at her and she is not sure he means to be waving at her, except much sadder.
• I attended a posted Moms Night Out in the community. Only one other mom showed up – the host. She wanted to sell me something.
• I practically begged a mom I met at library storytime to be my friend. It was embarrassing. There was some stuttering and some awkward, “Oh our boys play so cute together (mind you, they were not even one). You’re from Georgia? Me too! We should get together for a playdate. What’s your number?” I think she gave me a fake number. She is not my friend.

After I realized approaching strangers at the park was not going to work, I decided to join a moms group. Before motherhood, I did not know this was even a thing. People kept telling me to join a moms group of some sort, but it seemed so out of my comfort zone. Who goes to these types of things? Apparently, women looking for mom friends. I hesitantly joined my first MOPS(Mothers of Preschoolers) group. I met wonderful women who also desperately needed a safe place to talk and eat with other moms child-free.

Over time, I did get to know the women there. I was overjoyed when I ran into a fellow mom at the grocery store. Someone knows me in this strange town! They waved and said hello! I have a friend! 

Bravely joining MOPS that first year led to three things:

1. I took over running it for the next three years. A tremendous blessing for many reasons, but mostly because I recognized that those intense feelings of loneliness were common and I could give other moms a place to develop relationships with people other than their children.
2.  It gave me the courage to harass a fellow member to join her book club. I could have followed societal rules and waited until she or someone else asked me to be a part of a book club (something I really really wanted), but I didn’t wait. I invited myself and it made all the difference. That book club I invited myself to has become the one event I clear my calendar for every month and the place where I am the most genuine version of myself.
3.  I decided to join another moms group. This one is called Moms Club International. I have slowly gotten to know moms from this group outside of MOPS for years now. They just knew me as Jen and not as the MOPS Coordinator which made a big difference. That Moms Club has also formed a book club, which I love. It is filled with smart women who make me laugh and challenge my thinking.

When my first child was born, I did not have any friends where I lived. It was hard. But, to survive the monotony, I had to do the hard work of finding people who could help me remember me. And, I did. When my second child was born, I was overwhelmed by visitors and meals and phone calls. It was a complete reversal. I ran that obstacle course and I finished it with just a few hiccups.

Recently, my book club read MWF SEEKING BFF: My Yearlong Search for a New Best Friend. This memoir focuses on the author’s goal of making new friends in her new town by going on 52 blind friend dates. Not surprising to me, our discussion focused on why it so stinking hard to make friends as grown-ups. Ironically, most of us really want friends. We just don’t know how. If you are relocating or simply in a new season of life, I encourage you to put yourself out there and just admit it. I bet you will find you are not the only one. 

Do you have any fun stories of your own friend obstacle course journeys? Share them with me! 

*This post does can affiliate links. Thank you for supporting my blog! 

What Is Saving My Life Right Now

Blogging is a whole thing. It is a whole new thing for me. I do not know what I am doing, but I am enjoying it. One thing I stumbled upon today was a post from a blog I’ve followed for a while called modernmrsdarcy.com. On her post, she suggests writing a list of the things that are saving your life during this season.

Reading Harry Potter with my Son 

He received the first book for Christmas (just two weeks before his 6^th birthday), and we have been reading little bits at a time. The illustrated edition is wonderful for his age. I look forward to reading it with him and am giddy with excitement as he learns about the characters I love for the first time. 

Draco Lookalike

Movie Nights with Friends 

It is a rare treat when I get to go out and see a movie with mom friends. Evenings when we can coordinate babies of all ages, husbands and babysitters are enjoyable even if we are simply heading out for coffee. But, a movie is an event. And so far this year, it has already happened twice! And, for two excellent award nominated films. I have seen La La Land (RUN, RUN to the theater if you haven’t seen it yet) and Hidden Figures (also RUN).

“Audition: The Fools Who Dream” 

(Emma Stone's song in La La Land) I have listened to this song on repeat, memorized every word, printed out my favorite lines and hung them on a wall in our home.

Super Fun Socks 

I used some Christmas gift cards to restock my sock drawer and I am delighted with my new finds.

Lush Bath Bombs 

I’ve heard it said the days are long and the years are short. The long days are why I need long baths and wine. Lush bath bombs make me feel like Cleopatra, a mermaid or Katy Perry. The water turns colors and sometimes sparkles. Why should little kids be the only ones who get fun colored baths? 

This Is Us 

I don’t think I need to elaborate much, but let’s just say This is Us could not have come on tv at a better time.

Poems That Make Grown Women Cry 

I love poetry, but I realized that I do not read it much anymore. So, I bought this collection and put it in my car. Now, everyday as we wait in my son’s carline, I read a few poems aloud to my daughter. The poems are moving and just enough reading for the short time.

My Brand New Blogging Adventure 

I put it off and put it off. But, so far, it has been fun and different. I have enjoyed putting my fingers to the keys for something other than work. I have enjoyed getting to interact with people in a new way. And I am proud of myself for bravely putting myself out there in a way that scared me before.

I believe focusing on the good helps us to overcome our grumblings and be thankful for the manna. What things are saving your life right now?

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Trying and Learning All Over Again

Raising kids has turned out to be much harder than I thought it would be. Honestly, growing up I said I would never have kids. I also thought I would be independently wealthy by 27 with a shaved head, so take that however you will.

I did not babysit – and the one time I did in college, I left crying because I just realized I was not a kid person. Then, when I was first pregnant, I read the books (all the books). Here’s a hint: the books did not prepare me.  The question keeping me up at night became “How am I going to do this whole mom thing?”

The answer is simple – I don’t know. Therefore, I try. It is hard. So very, very hard. And exhausting. Oh my word, it is EXHAUSTING. The mental aspect of loving two little people so strongly that it fills me with a strange mixture of joy and pain is enough to make me feel like I need a daily nap. Every day feels like I am learning, making mistakes, relearning. I go to bed every night and do it all over again the next day.

When my son was younger, I tried really really hard to make it look like I had my crap together. Makeup done, house cleaned, tied up in knots when we went out to a restaurant because God forbid he make a sound to disrupt the other patrons, and he always had adorable outfits with matching shoes. Thinking back, I was a tight ball of hidden mess. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I was trying.

Here I am on my first Mother's Day

Trying too hard it turns out. I’m afraid now that some of my anxiety about how I was perceived, my son was perceived, my marriage and our family was perceived has been passed down to my sweet boy. There have already been moments where I can see he is wound tightly waiting for someone to see his mistakes. It hurts. It hurts, not just because it is my son, but because I recognize that one of my struggles has made its way into his DNA.

But, God knows it takes me seasons to learn things. I cannot learn them overnight. So, He blessed me with a second child that has made it impossible to try to keep up a façade. I had to accept that I am so far from perfect in order to ask and receive the help I so desperately needed. Her fiery personality and strong-willed nature make her a force. A force that I know one day will own who she is and challenge anyone who asks her to be someone different. A force that has helped to carve into my uptight corners.

When you have a second child who does not follow the same rules as your first, you start trying and learning all over again. So, now I am trying to be more honest. Honest with my kids, my family, my friends and myself. And learning how much more fun it is to be with known and loved for all my imperfections – without makeup some days, a messy house most days, and a mom to loud singing (and often screaming) children with stains on their clothes everyday.

Here I am today

Magic in the Mundane

I am far from perfect. And I spend many days more focused on my computer screen or a book or the tv than I do on memorizing the few freckles on my children’s skin. I can get easily sucked into the void of nothingness scrolling. But, somewhere along the way, I have taught my children that magic is real.

In our home, we regularly pretend to be things we are not. Knights, monsters, superheroes, princesses, animals, witches and wizards. Fairy tales are told, Harry Potter is read, Fantasy comes to life.

When my son was little, one of our favorite pastimes was pretending to act out the morbid story of Hansel and Gretel. I would cackle while chasing him around our kitchen island in my most witchy laugh. I would mix stories and yell, “I’ll catch you my pretty” without him knowing mommy made a fairy tale mistake. Then, once I captured him, I would pretend to throw him in the oven. Awful, right? I would tickle him until he couldn’t breathe and then he would throw pretend water on me (again with the mixing of the stories). We did this over and over and over again. The most fun times I have with my kids are when I pretend to be a witch instead of just when I am acting like a witch.

My son is well-versed in fantasy and imagination. Our costume trunk is overflowing. Now, he is six. I still chase him around pretending to be a witch, but his characters have evolved. He is a Jedi or a specific superhero or Peter from Narnia. I get to play the White Witch from Narnia fairly often and Princess Leia now and then. Along with these fun new identities to try on, we have begun reading Harry Potter. I do not know if there is any book a parent can read aloud that fills both the reader and the listener with such joy. I felt goosebumps as I read about the “boy who lived.” And, my heart nearly exploded when we finished the first night and my son said, “Mom, I can feel the magic in our house.”

So, it should be no surprise that my baby girl also picked up on her family’s weird quirks. Soon after she turned two years old, we attended a playgroup with other children her age. She was having a ball playing with her little friends and doing well learning how to share. Then, we went outside. This was the largest backyard she had ever seen! There were horses and goats and a playset! Imagine my delighted surprise when after seeing all these wonderful gifts, she shrieked, “Dragon! Look, Mommy, a dragon!” It was a bird. My two-year-old tutu wearing daughter thought a dragon was a bird.

This falls into the same lines as when she sees a full moon and tells us all that it is a “Wolfman Moon.” Lord, help her when she goes to school. I sure hope she has another little friend full of silliness and imagination to join in on the fun.

Most of our days are pretty boring, but the days with magic make up for the mundane.