Saying Goodbye To A One Year Old.

I hadn't really thought of it that way.

Sure, I've thought about how time is flying. How it doesn't seem like 2 years since we held that perfect little person for the first time. I've often thought about how I will turn around and he will be going off to school. And I'll turn again and he will be driving a car. Another spin and he's in college. Married. Has a family of his own. And dizzy and confused I will sit and wonder - where did the years go? But it wasn't until I watched my husband walk out of our son's room on Tuesday night with tears in his eyes, that I realized what we were doing. 

"What's the matter?" I asked him. "Why are you about to cry?"

"Because I just said - 'goodnight my little one year old. I love you. I'm gonna miss you.'"

He was right. I was so caught up in the celebration of another year of life and fun and love with my son that I hadn't even thought about the fact that we were saying goodnight to our one year old for the very last time. That changed things. I held onto my husband, sobbing from a place deep within my chest. I didn't want to say goodnight to him. I didn't want to let him go. That year, and all of it's illuminating days are gone. We blinked and our child went from a crawler who looked at us with bright loving eyes to a runner that can now tell us that he loves us.

It has been such an amazing year. Our son has blossomed into the little toddler I always knew he would be. There is so much I love about him. I love that he loves to make us laugh. I love that every night before bed he gives me kisses between the crib bars, one kiss for each space, all the way down the crib. I love that his favorite song is a Coldplay song. That he passes out hugs like nobody I have ever seen, arms wide open. Even the cashiers can't help but come around their registers and give him that hug he was wanting. I love that his favorite characters are already the underdogs - like The Little Engine That Could. And I love that he is so full of life and light and energy.

But he is also full of hope and promise of things to come. And with the sadness of saying
goodbye to our one year old, also comes a silver lining.

Saying HELLO to our two year old.

“Be present in all things and thankful for all things.”
― Maya Angelou

Who we are underneath + A new name ....

{photo from www.twopeasinabucket.com}

Some mornings, before my son awakes and we begin our day, I like to grab a warm cup of coffee and sit out on our back porch in the quiet stillness. There's something about the calmness of the morning that I can't explain. The crisp, cool air that fills my lungs. It triggers something in my memory. It stirs up inspiration in my most abandoned spaces in my soul. There's something about the warmth of the sunrise on my face. Our wind chimes being delicately blown by the gentle breeze. And the big beautiful tree in our backyard with its tiny white buds, whispering the promise of hopeful things to come. The buds are only pretty for a short time, and yesterday I realized that this year, I missed their prettiest days.

My husband and son are my whole world. And it takes a lot to keep my little world spinning. I want to protect them and serve them and fill them with joy. That time, my time in the morning to reflect and breathe and talk to God, is quickly gathered up by the sound of my son, waking up ready to laugh, ready to eat, ready to play. That moment though, as short as it may seem, is my moment to search the inner most depths of my heart. It is often the time of day when I feel closest to God. Before the day is filled up with being a wife and a mother, I am reminded who I am outside of those roles. A creation woven together with the most intricate details. One that still longs for creativity, passion, and adventure. One that is loved deeply. Completely. Unceasingly. I forget these things in the busyness of the day. I forget that in our most ordinary moments, we still have beautiful purpose. 

I've been wanting to get back to "personal" blogging for some time now. I just wasn't sure how. Some of you who follow my writing consistently might have noticed that I couldn't quite make up my mind for what I wanted the focus of this space to be. With the sudden reality of 30 also came a desperate need for authenticity. I've tried to do the funny mom blogger thing, the fashion and lifestyle writer, but those things just aren't me. At the end of the day, I'm a mess. An exhausted, imperfect, exceptionally ordinary mess. I wanted a new title.  Something that portrayed this desire to be used exactly where I am. If nothing else, I wanted a title that portrayed what I feel every day, at the end of the day, when I lay my head down on my pillow. I often ask myself, what have I accomplished today? Was it glorifying to my God? Was it beneficial to anyone else? Will it be remembered? And if not, will I be ok with that?  

I would find myself thinking of words throughout the day. Potential titles, all exploring the possibility of a life lived fully unscripted but not fully lived. A life with regrets, left wanting to do more, see more, get back time that we watch pass us by. I also thought of phrases that highlighted the importance of our day and what we do within it. The value we give it. Days filled with more than wrinkled hands from dish water and wadded up grocery lists. More than making messes and cleaning them up. More than macaroni and cheese and Thomas the Train. In fear of losing myself as a mother and housewife, I've started my own business, made plans to apply for my Master's Degree, started trying to write a novel, all in hopes of holding on as tightly as I can to that innovative spirit within that I so desperately do not want to lose. For what? To only clutter my moments up even more than they were. 

It wasn't until a couple of days ago that I stumbled upon a realization that not only gave me a title, it allowed a peace to settle over me for the first time in a long time. I had just put my son down for his nap, and I always wait just a few minutes after I don't hear him rolling around anymore to come back in his room and make sure his little legs are covered. So I covered him up, paused to watch him sleep for just a moment. I had so much I needed to do around the house. Design orders I needed to work on. Deciding what to make for dinner. But for some reason, on this day, I just wanted to watch my son sleep.  My husband and I had just heard of a story of a little boy named Eli who was the same age as our son, even looked a lot like him, and in the blink of an eye he choked on a piece of food. A few days later, he was gone. A tiny, precious little life that was running and playing one day ... is gone the next. It's just that fast. Though the family was extremely strong and even donated his kidneys to another child in need saying that "Eli served his purpose on this earth to save another child", I still know that in the days to come, once that family returns home to as much "normalcy" as possible and an extremely quiet house, the pain would be almost too much to bear. I'm not sure if it was just the overwhelming emotion that hit me at that moment watching my son sleep or the exhaustion ... or both, but my legs collapsed underneath me and I just sat there. Indian style on the floor. Right in front of his bed. 

I just ... sat there.  

How can I possibly think of a name for my blog that perfectly represents my life right now, when from moment to moment it is so different? It's so chaotic and hectic and overwhelming. It's making messes all day long. It's "no don't throw that in the sink", "no don't push that under the couch", "no, don't spit that out." But it's also beautiful in every way. Every moment is an opportunity to teach and shape my child. And in the middle of all of the chaos, there IS always beautiful purpose. Even in little Eli's life, as short as it was, they were able to find purpose and peace. Not to mention there are those moments, like this one right now - when I'm watching my son sleep. And he looks so peaceful, ... and perfect. And I know when he wakes up he will want me to just hold him for a while. Before anything. Before he plays, before he gets a drink, he just wants me to HOLD HIM. And he'll put his head on my shoulder, wrap his little legs around my waist and breath a sigh of relief. Momma's got me. What a wonderful privilege I have. So how can I possibly make sense of the fact that life is complete bliss all while it sometimes throws us curve balls that shake us to the core and have us dropping to our knees??? And then it hit me.  Like I mentioned earlier, we are creations woven together with the most intricate details by the most amazing God. And these moments in our lives that stop us in our tracks ... they don't MAKE us who we are, they REVEAL who we are, underneath. They unravel us at the seams, but in a good way. They strip away all of the trivial things in life, the material things, and remind us what is most important.  

 Yes, it's hard. Yes, it's work. YES, YOU LOSE YOURSELF.

But the best part is, it's worth it. And every morning when your coffee on the porch is interrupted by the sweet sound of a perfect little person waking up, you get to find yourself...

.... again and again. 

My (Not So) Perfect Life .... on Facebook

Last week I came across a blog post called The Facebook Effect.

It's about how women can be so unaware of and ungrateful for their own blessings, thinking that the grass is always greener because of the "perfect" lives that others show on display on social media sites. Specifically, Facebook. You should totally read it after you finish this post. You can find it here.

I loved everything about it. It is so true that we often accumulate feelings towards someone based on assumptions. Based on what we merely THINK their life is like. But we really don't know anyone's individual struggles. I also really liked the last part of the post. The author says:   

 "You see, Facebook is not the place to air your dirty laundry, and most people recognize that. Just because your Facebook friends only post about the "perfect" parts of their life, it doesn't mean that their lives are without imperfections. More than likely, they aren't trying to be misleading. It's just that Facebook is a public forum, and is not an appropriate place to share things of a private or more sensitive nature."

So this got me thinking. I always post about great days we have. Fun things we do. How blessed I am to have married my husband. How awesome my kid is. ;) Sure, I load my blog down with stories of exhaustion and struggles, and let's face it, the not so pretty days. But I reserve these stories for my blog because this is where I've chosen to do so. I know I don't have a ton of readers and most that do read are close friends and family, so I'm not sharing the more private side of my life with all of my facebook friends if I choose not to.

That brought me to the question: Do people think I'm pretending to have a "perfect life" on Facebook? I thought about it long and hard. Am I one of those people where others read about my marriage and roll their eyes, say GAG under their breath, and keep scrolling? Am I one of the people where others read about how much I love being a stay at home mom and on a hard day for them they say "yeah right! like it's that easy!" and get annoyed? 

I mean, we've all seen those funny Ecards that get posted all over the internet and one in particular I remember seeing was - " I hope your life is as PERFECT as you pretend it is on facebook!" .. always followed with comments from the posters like - "Exactly!" or "FOR REAL!" and you can read the bitterness right there in their words. 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that .... well, if people feel that way, that's really not my problem. I'm going to post the sweet things my son does during the day. I'm going to post what an amazing family I have and how wonderful my husband is. And I'm going to post how much I LOVE being a stay at home mom. I'm going to post it, well, a lot. And there are people who are going to get tired of reading about it. Does it mean my life is perfect? Ha! Well, just take a minute to read my other adventures on this blog and you can see that I have my bad days too. But one thing I have learned as I have grown up and grown as a person is that you can either be jealous of other people's happiness and always try to compete with them and bring them down -or- you can rejoice in their successes, be happy when they have a great marriage and career and when they have fun with their children. Trying to bring others down doesn't bring you up ... making them look like a bad person doesn't magically make you look like a good one. Showing them in an ugly light doesn't make you look any more attractive. And making them feel rotten for their happiness doesn't make your life any better. In fact, all of these things do the exact opposite. As my grandfather used to say - "Blowing out another fella's candle doesn't make yours burn any brighter." Some of the most Godly people I know are those that love to see happiness in others, especially when they are facing trials of their own.

I'm reminded of a quote that says: "Most people do not see the world as it is. They see it as they are." So maybe if we assume that someone is writing something for the world to see, not just out of love and excitement but with different implications behind it, maybe we should ask ourselves ... do I feel this way about them because maybe that is what I DO?

And PDA. That's a whole other subject. I had a friend post a survey once about how people feel about public display of affection toward their loved ones on Facebook. His argument was that you don't have to post it for others to read if your spouse is in the next room. Just go tell them. And that the people who post those things must really have awful marriages and they are trying to mislead everyone into thinking they've got it so good. Though most people disagreed with that position, the ones who agreed were so bitter toward those that do post these things that it almost made me sad. I mean, by all means, if you don't want to wish your spouse a happy birthday and tell them that you love them on Facebook, then don't. But the way I see it is, I tell my husband all the time in private how thankful I am to have him and how much I love him. But as we all know, men need respect and honor from their wives. They need to feel adored and looked up to. What better way to show honor to your husband than to not only tell him in private what you appreciate, but to also let others know what a good man he is and how well he leads your home? Has anyone ever complained about a spouse bragging on them to others? It's always a good feeling to know that your husband or wife is proud enough of you or appreciates you enough that they risk the embarrassment (especially men, am I right?) of posting something mushy on the web. We live in a society now where it's cool to talk badly about your spouse. If you've ever watched Everybody Loves Raymond for more than five minutes, you see that the entire premise of the sitcom is to show what a screw up the husband is, and how annoyed the wife is by him. She bad mouths him to everyone, family, friends, and strangers. Instead, we should lift our spouses up to those around us. And unless we have our own insecurities and are jealous of the love and admiration that others display publicly, it shouldn't bother us when other people do this, even if it's not our thing. If the first thing we assume when reading that someone's husband brought them flowers or cooked them dinner is - they are just trying to act like their life is better than everyone else's - well, I would suggest we question the deeper meaning behind those bitter thoughts and feelings. Do we really just wish our spouse did those things for us? Does it make us mad that people brag on their spouse? And if so, why? Do we secretly wish our spouse bragged publicly on us?.... Does it mean their marriage is perfect? Of course not. (I mean, raise your hand if you have the perfect marriage! Let's see ... there's ...uh... oh, nope? No hands?) And assuming that people are only trying to put on a front by posting things that make them happy on social media sites would be just as wrong as assuming that the reason that those who DON'T post how much they love their spouse is because they don't. And assuming that if they aren't posting how happy they are, it's because they aren't.

Here's the thing. At the end of the day, the person who hurts is not the one who exaggerated how amazing their date night with their spouse was and how delicious their $200 meal and dessert overlooking the ocean was because they were still on a love and chocolate high when they posted it on Facebook. The only person who is hurting themselves, is the one sitting at home grumbling about so-in-so's posts and their "perfect life" with bitterness in their heart.   

So what conclusion have I made from all of this analyzing happiness on Facebook? Here goes:

There are SIX types of people when it comes to Facebook....

1. There are those who have perfect lives and they want you to know it on Facebook.

1. There are those who are going to post about joys way more than struggles on Facebook. Be happy for them. It's great that they have a good marriage, healthy children, a good job, etc. God has blessed them beyond measure and they want to share it. They don't believe their life is perfect and believe me, they aren't trying to persuade you that it is.

2. There are those who are happy for the people who post their successes and blessings on Facebook, but it's just not for them and they would rather keep those things to themselves. Totally understandable. 

3. There are those who post spiteful jokes about people's "perfect lives" and tell all of their friends how they can't stand hearing about so-in-so's new car and how funny their husband is, and how adorable their kid is. Pray for those people. They are more than likely unhappy with their own lives.

4. There are those people that just don't want to hear it! Ugh. Give them a break. They don't want to hear all about when your child gets first place at the track meet and your husband leaves you a cute surprise in your car. Come on. They would much rather just follow Paris Hilton on Twitter and hear about what she's wearing to dinner. Is that too much to ask? 

5. There are those who hate when other people post those "perfect" things on Facebook, and are totally unable to take a look within and see that while they are complaining about others, they are also posting how great their life is! And probably way more often than the people they complain about! Oops! 

6. There are those who are going to read this and say, you know what, maybe I could be a little less judgmental with those people. Good for them who share their joy with the world. They are proclaiming God's love and faithfulness with every mention of another prayer that has been answered. And why should it bother me? I'm blessed as well.

So which one of these people are you?

{photos from wehearit.com}

Finding Joy In The Chaos

Let's get real. Being a mom is hard.

It's screaming fits in public. It's teething for a year straight.
 It's catapulting pancake pieces across the kitchen. {Oh, your kids don't do that?}

It's everything I never imagined it would be. and... luckily, it's

EVERYTHING I NEVER IMAGINED IT WOULD BE.

Recently I was reminded of a quote about the "4 things you can never get back"

The STONE after it's thrown.

The WORD after it's said.

The OCCASION after it's missed.

and the TIME after it's gone.

I struggle with joyful times as a parent. What I mean is, I almost always
 ruin that amazing, breathtakingly beautiful moment with my child when he
 reaches a milestone or does something hilarious, or when he just runs up and
wraps his arms around my neck.

I enjoy it, I do.... for a moment. And then the realization sets in deeper that before
 I know it, he won't want to blow me these kisses anymore. He won't be small
 enough for me to scoop up and tickle, and some day, I will no longer be the most
 important woman in his life anymore. It's just reality. So instead of getting to
 stretch out these joyful times with laughter and big smiles on our faces, I turn
 into a pile of goo with tears streaming down my face and before I even know
 it, I'm gripping on to my kid like a leach repeating please don't grow up,
 please don't grow up over and over again.

Ugh. It's a pathetic sight. Believe me.

But moms, the thing we need to realize is, they ARE going to grow up.
There's nothing we can do about THAT.

What we CAN do something about, is finding so much joy in the everyday
 chaos so that we get the very most out of the time we are given with
 these precious little gifts.

If you would have asked me as a newlywed how I would feel about pancake
 pieces with syrup on my kitchen floor, I would have shuttered at the
 thought. Ha! Not in my immaculately kept home. {or so it was in some
parallel universe called my imagination} But I've found that as a mom, you just
 can't worry about those things. If you do, before you know it, you are running
 to grab a wet cloth all while scolding your child and drowning out the sound
 of his laughter and missing the big beautiful smile on his face. Do I mean
 not to teach him table manners? Well, of course not. If your child catapults
 food at every sitting, I'd say it's probably lesson time. But if this is a one time
thing and you can find it within yourself to play along for just a minute, I urge
 you to find the joy in it.

I use this as an example because it happened this morning. As I was teaching my
 son how to hold the spoon and put the pancake in his mouth, he grabbed a
 hold of the end of the spoon, pulled it down with all his might and let go -
 causing the pancake to rocket across the room. My eyes got big and my
 mouth opened wide and he started laughing the sweetest laugh I've ever
 heard in my life. My first reaction was to say "No, Connor!" in my annoyed
 tone and get up to grab the flying shrapnel off of the side of the cabinet.
But I remembered part of the quote I had heard days before - the things
 you can't get back ... and that moment, was something that I could
never be given again. 

-So I embraced it.-

I laughed and laughed with him. I took another piece of pancake and shot it
 over his head. He died laughing. He kicked his legs in his little highchair
 and snorted. Sure, I might have a mess to clean up later. I might have to
 make one more pancake so that he has enough to eat. And no, he will
 never remember that fun morning with Momma when we
 shot pancakes across the kitchen, ...

BUT I WILL.

Yesterday we had to run some errands at the mall for a wedding I am
 in this weekend. I was a little nervous about how the day would go because
 I knew it would take me some time to find all of the things I needed,
and though my son is probably the friendliest kid I've ever seen - saying
 'Hi' and waving to everyone we pass and even blowing kisses to complete
strangers - he is still only one, and he still gets tired and irritable. 

We just made the most of it. I tried to find joy in the chaos all day, despite
 how tiring and stressful and hectic it all was. Though I needed to pick up
 most of these things for adults, I vowed not to make the day just about
 me while I had "a child inconveniently tagging along". We played in the
 fire trucks and cars. We met the Easter Bunny. We took photos in the
 photo booth. We ate lunch together and shared a fruit cup.

I could have just run in on a mission, got what I needed, shushed my
child with every person we passed and headed back home. It probably
would have been easier. But instead, we made memories.

It wasn't anything special. It hardly took any effort. But it was one of the
best days of my life. I know that's going to sound odd to some. Especially
 those whose lives are so exciting and adventurous and magical and don't
 include snotty noses and green beans spit into your hand.

So my advice to every mother-to-be or momma whose baby is still little
and has yet to learn to walk and talk and get into literally
 everything they see ....

Is to take a deep breath. To find joy in every moment.

 It's going to be a lot of work. You're going to have to do more physical
 labor than you want. You're probably going to break a sweat more
 than you hoped. You'll have to repeat the same silly things or
annoying songs over and over again just for a half of a smile.
 It means taking a detour on your shopping trips to let your kids
 just be kids. It means cleaning your kitchen (and your entire
house for that matter) more than you expected. And moms,
we're going to HAVE to get off of the internet and our cell
 phones. We're going to have to get off of Pinterest, and
Facebook, and Twitter, and Instagram, and our email, and our text
 messages and all of the other things that distract us during the day
 when our kids aren't napping and we should
be playing with and teaching them.

We aren't guaranteed another child. I think about that every day.
 And we surely aren't guaranteed another day with our little one.
This is the only one we're certain of. So I suggest we make the most of it.
We embrace the mess. We find joy in the chaos.

We send our children into their futures, knowing they are valued and loved.

...and if that means I have to clean up a few pancakes ... bring it on.

Children are the living messages we send
to a time we will not see.  ~Neil Postman

If Our Life Had a Soundtrack...

 The night before Valentine's Day, I was downloading several songs to burn onto a cd to be part of my husband's "goody surprise" when he woke up the next morning. I entitled the CD "If Our Life Had A Soundtrack" (sappy, I know) and included songs that have been important parts of our lives - from the song he played on the guitar and sang to me on our first date, to songs in our wedding, to our son's favorite song to dance to in the living room.

As I was downloading this music and listening to the songs, it reminded me of how far we've come, what a good man he is, and how incredibly blessed I am to have him. So, since I haven't posted about how much I respect and admire my husband in quite some time (it's been all about the kiddo), I thought that maybe now - a couple of weeks before our 5 year Anniversary, would be as good a time as any.

When things feel hectic in our lives, busy, stressful, chaotic ... when I feel like I want be able to give more of myself, my time, and my energy to being the wife that I truly desire to be, I always have to stop for a second and come back to how I got here. Remembering those things always motivates me to push harder, make the time, and do little things for him to show him how much I love him. Too often, when a couple has children and things get busy and they have to devote so much time to the kids and their activities, a lot of marriages go up in flames because those two people forgot who they were, why they fell in love, and how blessed they are to have each other.

It's like when you are ready to move from the house you are living in. Remember that feeling when you were renting? All the little things that were "wrong" just overwhelmed you and consumed your thoughts. Maybe the refrigerator leaks, and you wished you could see the beautiful countryside out your back door, and maybe you have a couple of beetles that find their way in once a month or so .... and all you keep thinking to yourself is how much you want to move, and how you can't wait to get into another house. And then you do.

And this new house is not everything you expected it to be. Sure, you got rid of the "problems" you had before, but now you've got new ones. Probably worse ones. You traded a leaky fridge for a leaky shower. And a couple of beetles for brown recluse spiders, and you miss living in that quiet neighborhood where you once felt so safe. You couldn't wait to get out of there, but now you realize just how incredibly blessed you were to be in that house. All you can think to yourself is - I'd give anything to have that back again. It wasn't nearly as awful as I thought.

I think that is also how a lot of people view a failing marriage. When the going gets tough, they want to jump ship immediately. So maybe your husband leaves his dirty socks on the floor, or doesn't tell you you're pretty anymore like he used to, or won't lift a finger to help you ... whatever it is that keeps telling you in your head - "things would be so much better if I had just married someone that ______," don't be so quick to think the grass is always greener. It's not. Sometimes, you don't get grass, at all. Sometimes, you're stuck with dirt.

When you start to think of little quirks and things that bother you about your spouse, take a minute and reflect on the blessing he is to you. How hard he works for you. How sweet and kind he is to you. Remember why you fell in love in the first place. That is one thing that I think husbands and wives don't do enough. They don't want to have to dig back into that place in their brain where they have stored their memories. DIG. Once a month, if not more, remind yourself of how and why you fell in love and why you STAY in love with your spouse. Listening to old songs that you both love sure is a good reminder. A lot of women watch too many romance movies, or read too many romance novels. In those, the men that the women fall for are all smooth talking, hard working, best friend material, fun dads who always fight for the girl. Right?

Well, I'm willing to bet, if you take a closer look at your husband, he's all those things ... and more. And he's not on the big screen. He's right beside you. I'm lucky enough to watch those romance movies, look at my life and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I've got that. In fact, I've got so much more. 

So here goes ... there are several reasons I am blessed to be married to my husband, but for now, I will stick with the Top Five that you might just see in the movies-


5. He knows all the right things to say

I don't mean he's a "schmoozer". His words don't come from a vain or empty place. He says what he means and he means what he says. But for this list, I'm not talking about his words to me. I'm talking about his words to God.

My husband prays the most beautiful prayers.

Always has.

It was one of the very first things that attracted me to him, and it is surely one of the things that continues to remind me how very blessed I am even after 5 years of marriage. There is an AW Tozer quote that says - "As a man prays, so he is." This is so true of my husband. His prayers are genuine, humble, thoughtful, and passionate. I rarely ever feel as deeply in love with him, as I do when we are holding hands and praying to God.

I don't need him to get up on some grandiose balcony and spit out all the things he loves about me. I can feel how much he loves me when he prays to God for my heart and soul.


4. He works so hard to support us.

It is such a blessing that I get to stay at home with our one year old son. Sometimes, I'm not quite sure how we make it work, but we do. I know my husband has a lot of pressure on him to make sure that I don't have to go back to work. His job gets really stressful and sometimes he has to work really late hours. I appreciate every moment he puts in for us. And as if it's not enough that he works extremely hard at his job, he is the type of man that comes home, gives our son a bath, cleans up the kitchen after I cook dinner, or helps with little things to make my life easier.

He could just get home and plop on the couch and tell me how hard his day at work is, but he doesn't. He sees taking care of our son and helping me with things around the house as a privilege and not a job. Having a husband like that also gives me perspective, that as worn out as I am at the end of the day, it is a privilege that I get to do things for him, take care of the house, do our laundry, cook his dinner, and take care of/teach our child all day. In other words, he is the type of man that makes being a woman, a stay at home wife and mother, so sweet.  I respect and adore him so much for allowing me to strive to be the wife and mother that I desire to be. I'm far from it, but he always makes me feel closer than I am.


3. He's my very best friend.

We've taken a couple of road trips in the last month. I love road trips. They always give me time to think about life. On one of them, I pulled out my phone and flipped to a website I had bookmarked called 30 Questions to Ask Your Spouse on a Road Trip. We had so much fun asking these questions to each other and answering them. I love that he tells me random Biblical facts while we are driving. I love that we play a game of compromise after he has listened to an hour of music and wants to listen to talk radio. And I love that I always win that game. ;) Music always wins, folks.

I love that he says something at least once a day that makes me laugh out loud. I love that he gets annoyed when something happening in a cartoon movie where the animals talk is "unrealistic". I love that he always brings me surprises home from the store if he stops to pick something up on the way home. And that his favorite part is watching my face when he shows me what he got.

I love that he loves to be silly with me. I love that he still wants to kiss me every time he sees me. I love that he has the worst memory in the world and tells me every time we pass something on the road what it is, like he's never told me before. I love that he always points out planes and squirrels.

And I love ... that I get to spend every day of my life with him.


2. He is such an amazing dad.

I knew he would be. I'm not surprised. One of my favorite times of the day is when he gets home from work. We hear the keys in the door, and he peeks around the corner for our son to see that he is home. The look of love and excitement on both of their faces as they walk toward each other is one of the most special things that a mother can see. I know that all day he is waiting for that moment.

There are two reasons I know that he is going to raise our son in the best way possible. One, because he is in the here and now. He takes time to read him stories. To play with him. To rock him in his lap when he is getting sleepy. He gets joy out of seeing our son reach milestones and try new things that he ends up loving. And two, because being the man he is, he will continue to be an example for him as he is growing up. To watch and see what a man of honesty and integrity looks like. A man of God. To see what it looks like for a husband to love his wife, deeply. What it means to forgive, to be compassionate, to be loyal. To work hard and provide for his family. To be consistently spiritual. I know that if our son grows up to be anything like his daddy, he will be a man with a heart of gold.

The best way to teach a child is by example.

1. He fought for me.

 Around this time of year, six years ago, I sat alone on my porch swing outside my quiet little house in the country. I watched the wind blow through the trees that surrounded me and felt the warm glow of the evening sun on my face before it disappeared below the line of trees in the distance.

I remember this day, because it was different than any other day in my life. It was the gentle tap of God's finger on the row of dominoes that started everything into motion. I got a phone call from a guy I barely knew and he was interested in getting to know me better.

It was a tricky situation.

To say I had "issues" might be the understatement of the century.  I had serious fear. Fear of losing anything that I cared deeply about. Because of that fear, I wanted to control everything in my life. Fear drove a lot of poor decisions I made in my twenties. It made me have trust issues. It made me unforgiving and over emotional. I had words inside my head that replayed every day of my life, and I was scared I'd never be able to get rid of them.

I wasn't worth loving.

I wasn't worth the hassle. I'll be the first to admit it.

And everyone told him to turn around and run ... and never look back. I told him to run, my best friends told him to run, his family told him to run, even my exes told him to run. We all warned him.  I was a destructive tornado that left nothing in my path. I held on so tight to all of the things I feared would slip through my hands, that I simply crushed them.

But one day, he sat me down and looked me in the eyes and told me - I understand what you're telling me, but I believe you're worth it.

He said that he could see past all the layers of hurt and shame and fear and all of the ugly stuff that I had wrapped myself up in, and he could see straight to the heart of me. And he wasn't going anywhere. He told me that one day, he was going to marry me. The real me. I could believe him, or not.  He was going to fight my demons. Carry my baggage. Strip apart my layers. Fix the parts of me that were broken. He would do whatever it took to make sure he had me as his wife for the rest of his life. As undeserving as I was. He never gave up on me.

That alone is enough to make me want to be the best wife in the world for him. And sometimes life does get busy, and we put our love on the "back burner" so to speak to take care of other things. But I hope he will read this and know, that even five years after saying I do, I still realize how incredibly blessed I am that he walked into my life and fell in love with my heart.

 I certainly fell in love with his.



Super C's First Birthday Party

This past weekend we threw a superhero birthday party for our son who will turn one tomorrow. I can't believe how fast time flies. Here are some pictures from the party. It was a blast! 

We love you, Super C! 

Deeper, still.

We all have to face our own reflection.

I was sitting across the table from one of my girlfriends the other day, eating lunch and chatting about life. We got into our typical discussion about the kids, funny things they are doing, and how they are growing. Of course, that led to the subject of time and how old we are both getting. As she joked about my upcoming thirtieth birthday, she let me in on a little secret.

"You've had wrinkles for a while, though."

Yep.

That's what she said.

I just stared at her for a second. Waiting for her to bust into laughter, tell me she got me good, and what a horrified look I had on my face. But she didn't. She sat there, straight faced. And so I responded like any rational, sensible, unpretentious woman would:

"What? what do you mean wrinkles? When did I , how long have you .... what wrinkles? Where? I've never seen any wrinkles. What wrinkles?!?"

"The ones on the side of your mouth. Yeah, it's no big deal. I just thought since you are going to be in your thirties and all, maybe you should know."

I thanked her for the heads up and we laughed, and joked more about growing old, wearing girdles and dentures, and finished up our lunches.

I mean, I knew I would have wrinkles. One day. It's inevitable. We are all growing older and you can't stop it from happening. Well, some people try. But not me. I've always told myself that I would try to take aging as it comes. I would embrace it. I would consider it a display of wonderful years I have been blessed with and hold it as a souvenir of sorts of the memories I have collected over time. I guess I just didn't prepare myself for the early onset of that reality.

I have wrinkles. There, I said it.

My friend headed out that afternoon and I found myself in the middle of the rug on our living room floor again with Connor to see what we were going to play with next. I heard the tires on the gravel outside as she pulled away and a honk in the distance as she got further down the road.

32 seconds.

That's about how long I waited before I got up, walked into our bathroom, turned on the light and pulled my face to the mirror. Let me see these wrinkles.

She was right. There they were.

Deep, distinct lines on the sides of my mouth.

But I wouldn't consider those wrinkles. In fact, as I stretched my mouth out into a smile, I watched them get bigger and bigger, and deeper and deeper. They were smile lines.

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and turned off the bathroom light, walked back into the living room with my son who looked up at me with the biggest grin on his face, and without a second thought, I smiled back at him.

You see, those are wrinkles I'm ok with. Those are lines on my face that have formed over the years because I have experienced indescribable happiness. And I fully believe that they will only continue to get deeper.

And it hit me.

Every wrinkle is ok with me. Every one. They all represent an emotion brought on by an experience that I have had the privilege of embracing. Even the immense sadness and frustration. The loneliness in an unsolved heart. The fear and anticipation of a future that turned out to be a beautiful present. Amusement and courage. Appreciation and hope. And of course, happiness. Some people wander through this life without letting themselves feel a thing. They are "rational people". They will tell you they don't let themselves get swallowed up with emotions. In fact, they can't remember the last time that they felt overwhelmed with heartbreak, or wrapped up with joy. They can talk themselves out of every wrinkle that would eventually find a home on their inexpressive faces.

But not me. I've allowed myself to feel. Really feel every bit of this life. And my face will show it.

And Lord willing, when I'm much older, when my bones are twisted and I'm all covered up in gray, my grandchildren will sit in my lap, touch my face, and study every line. And I will tell them stories of how those deep wrinkles got there. The trials that brought the ones that appear when I furrow my brow, the silly things my husband and children said and did that made me get the ones on the bridge of my nose, and most importantly, the ones on the sides of my mouth ...

The ones that will remind me, from this day forward, of all of the happiness that I have stumbled upon and soaked in.

I'm looking forward to the next time my friend comes over for lunch. I'm going to tell her that I know exactly what wrinkles she was talking about now ...

And that I try every day of my life to make them deeper, still.

  

Revealed.

I remember what Sunday mornings used to be like. Before I spent them in the nursery, wrestling what feels like a twenty pound bag of snakes. Sweating. Rolling my eyes at myself because I just had to wear this dress and it sure doesn't make it easy for me to move nor is it comfortable in the least bit. Before I had my hair pulled constantly and my bracelets ripped off, fighting a sleepy child.

Before these days, I sat comfortably in my pew. Bible in my lap, maybe a notepad out to take some notes. My husband's arm around me, listening attentively with absolute peace of mind.

I look in front of us now, on most Sunday mornings, before I leave to head to the nursery to listen to the sermon in there - because my child won't stop squealing or babbling or crying or screaming or just trying to flirt with the pretty girls that sit behind us, distracting everyone in plain view. I juggle the books, toys, snacks, and anything and everything else within arms reach I can use to distract him, but nothing works. I see the young couples in the rows, pointing out things to each other in their Bibles, cuddled close together with the husband's arm around the wife, calmness on their faces. That used to be us, I tell myself, as I stand up with my son in my arms, look down at our train wreck of a pew, the lonesome gap between my husband and I, grab my bag and let out a big huff of breath to display my discouragement. 

It is one of those inevitable moments where I feel like I wasn't cut out for this mother stuff.

And then, once we get into the nursery, something in that moment is revealed to me.

I finally get him calmed down, tuck his little arm under mine, and begin to rock him slowly. The room is quiet and still. We stare at the mint green wall with the beautifully painted tree. And I see his head lift up to look me in the eyes. Over the speaker the preacher talks of being aware of our treasures. And at that moment, I am. He snuggles up closer to me, and I can feel his head relax on my bicep, eyelids having trouble staying opened. The way the light hits his skin makes it shimmer, almost like there is gold in it. He falls asleep with a little bit of a smile on his face. I wanted to be in there, with them.... but he, he is right where he wanted to be. And it is revealed to me, that as exhausting as motherhood is sometimes, and as much as it has changed the routine I've been so comfortable with, I can't imagine being like those couples in the pew again. I can't imagine not looking over at my husband and chuckling when a big burp comes out of such a little body. I can't imagine little arms not flailing in front of me as we sing our hymns. I can't imagine not seeing a little finger tracing the shapes in the books we pull out with hesitation.

And I can't, as much as I could try, imagine a Sunday morning ... with empty arms.

Being a mother has revealed to me that as much as I loved the honeymoon phase, this chapter of our lives is far better and I could never imagine life again, without my little shadow.

He's a little wobbly now. I watch his chubby thighs squat as he figures out a way to get down from the object he just pulled up on. Just three weeks ago he was learning to crawl. Today, he is standing while holding on to things and taking steps to get closer. He changed so quickly from the quiet little baby that we carried around to the child that illuminates every room we bring him into. 

If someone could tell me how to stop this clock, and just be allowed to sit here, in this day I've spent with my son until I feel I've soaked up enough of it, I'd give anything. If I could stop the sun from setting, just for one day, just for a little while, until I felt enough sugars on my lips, saw enough smiles, and heard enough laughter to have it memorized in my soul, I can assure you, I would. But that's not what a sun is for. It's for counting our days. For reminding us that we have only a short amount of time to fill them with as much significance and joy as we can.

I often find myself staring at him when he doesn't know I'm watching, just playing with his toys and jabbering to himself. He always focuses so intently on everything he wants to play with. Sometimes I wonder if he'll one day be an architect. No matter what type of fun or colorful toy he touches, he is always inquisitive about how it is assembled. Such a promising little mind that I am helping shape and mold. And as I watch him, I feel an overwhelming sense of  happiness to know that he is a part of me. But with the happiness always comes a little bit of sadness when I remember that I will only be given one of these moments, just like this.

And I can never get it back.   

Being a mother has revealed to me that life flies by entirely too fast and as much as I ache to, I can't slow down a single day, or a single moment, of this beautiful journey.

Last week, I traveled back to where I grew up for a day in order to help my mom get some of my grandmother's things in order. I sat there with her, looking through old photo albums, watching her face light up when she saw one of my brother and me years ago. They were faded, partly because of the quality of cameras back then, but mostly because they had been in the book, behind the cover, for almost 30 years. But what isn't faded, are my memories of my childhood with my mother.

Two things I would never be able to separate in my mind are music and my childhood. I can still see her, in her lightly washed flare leg bluejeans with big vertical pockets, dancing to Gary Morris songs on our living room floor. She always encouraged us to dance with her, and so we would get up from whatever had our attention at the time, grab her hands and start moving. I have no doubt in my mind that it brought my mother so much joy to share those moments with us. If I had only known then that she was probably wishing to freeze that moment, I would have made it last so much longer. For her. I wouldn't have raced back to my barbies or my play "school". I would have held her hands and danced with her there until she let go. I would have stretched it out as long as I could. For her.

 For me.

I had no idea how much my mother loved me. It wasn't hard to guess. She has always been nothing but selfless for me and my brother. She has always given anything and everything to ensure our safety and happiness. I was pretty sure I could imagine just how much she probably loved me as I got older, but I could never really understand until I had my son. And now I know.

She had it much harder than I do. She didn't have the Internet to google questions about baby foods or sleep patterns. She didn't have Pinterest to show her how to make homemade wipes or a Halloween costume. She learned as she went along and she did such an amazing job. I see a lot of her in myself. I say words to my son that I haven't heard in years, words that she used to say to us. I catch myself using the same looks and turning on the same music for us to dance to in the morning.

I couldn't make time stop for my mother. And I sure can't make it stop for me.

But if my children grow up, and look back on their childhood with affection and tenderness, and think that I have done even half the job with them that my mother did with us, I will be satisfied.

  

Being a mother has revealed to me what a wonderful mom I am blessed to have.

 

  Motherhood is so much harder than I ever imagined it would be. It is long sleepless nights and half eaten dinners. It is chasing around a speedy crawler and full hands and fumbling keys on the way to the car. It's even Sunday mornings in the nursery. And I'm only ten months in.

But I wouldn't trade a second of it, not for anything in the world. It reveals something new to me every day. Something about who I am, who God is, and what a blessing I've been given in my son. All I can do when I'm having one of those days where I'm feeling as though maybe I'm not cut out for this mother stuff, is to be aware of my treasures. Be conscious that this is the best we get in life. These are some of my happiest days. Even worn out, when I lay my head on the pillow at night and think back on all I've done with my son that day and all that has made me laugh and smile, it was worth it. And I can't slow the days down, not a bit. But I can make sure I use them up. And show him how much I love him every opportunity I get. Just like my mother did for me.