A Life Well Lived

After getting home from a morning playdate, I tucked the kids into bed for their afternoon naps and headed to our computer. I wanted to watch some home videos of when Bubby was Chipmunk’s age because I was having a hard time remembering my now 3 year old being that little. I scrolled through the short videos, this one of Peanut’s 3rd birthday, this one of the trip to the pumpkin patch when Chipmunk was just born. Suddenly, without warning, tears filled my eyes. 

Oftentimes, when I think about mothering and all the changes being a mom has brought to my life, I tend to focus on what is hard. Being a stay at home mom, feeling isolated, missing the workforce (not so much any more but initially), feeling unsuccessful at parenting, living in a constantly messy house, going to bed often wondering if I am doing a good job, straining to remember when the last date night was, feeling some days like I yell, beg and plead more than whisper, sing and pray. Some days fleeing to Target just for a moment’s peace and jeeze, the list could go on.

But you know what? As I watched those videos, none of that was evident (except the messy house because you can’t miss that). But I couldn’t see any of those other things or feel any of those emotions in those videos. All I could see was a life well lived. 

A Life. Well Lived. 

I saw these tiny people doing adorable things: clapping for the first time, taking their first steps, splashing in the bath tub, opening birthday presents, meeting a new sibling for the first time, playing hide and seek standing out in the open and giggling, digging in the sand, splashing in the baby pool. And all I could think was, what a way to live a life. What a way to make a life:

• Pressing in each day and taking the time to fully realize motherhood. Embracing my new curves and the deep belly laughs only my kids can bring out of me. 
• Feeling my heart swell when I witness these little people do something that brings me joy. 
• Hugging and kissing and teaching and training. 
• Fighting to keep my eyes open on date night and cherishing those moments when Reuben and I get to be alone. Remembering again and again that only he can make me laugh like that. 
• Pouring sprinkles on ice cream and reading that book they love for the millionth time.
• Singing Jesus Loves Me till she falls asleep and tearing the house apart looking for that dang train he can’t sleep without.
• Pillow fights. Leaf pile jumps. Play dates. Pedaling bikes. Memorizing scripture. Bedtime prayers. Late night cries. Early morning pleas. Dress up tea parties. Pirate battles. Tickle tag. Paw Patrol. Dieting and exercising. Again. And again. Cake and candy. Themed birthdays. Day trips and pumpkin carvings. Trimming the tree. More “I love you’s” than I can count. 

What a way to live a life. 

I’m sure in the moments those videos were shot, if you’d asked me, I’d have had a list a mile long of all the things I would have changed to make those days better. But now I don’t even know what that list would contain. All I know is that when I watch those videos, I see the people I love most doing what we love best: living life together. 

What a way to live a life. 

I’m grateful, God. So grateful. 

Through the fears...

She was excited to get to bed tonight. She and her brother had been sharing a room for a few months, but tonight was the first night she had her room back to herself with her brother next door in his new quarters. She oohed and ahhed over his new room and made some requests for hers. "Can I have my chair back please?" "May I have a pretend cake to bake in my princess oven?" Nervous of how the younger one would do on his own, we reminded each of them several times of the new change that would take place. They laughed and nodded and seemed okay with the switch.

We followed bedtime routine normally, read books, our Bible, sang songs and held hands in a circle and prayed. Then, as I began to usher Peanut to her now brother-less room, she burst into wild and sudden tears.

"What's wrong?" I questioned. She climbed her small, almost four-year old frame onto my lap as I sat on her bed. I held her a long while and finally she looked in the direction of where her brother's crib used to sit and whispered, "I don't like sleeping alone."

All the excitement and courage she had displayed only moments ago melted away into frailness and vulnerability. She was lonely. She was afraid.

My heart sank. Deep. In that moment I confronted my own frailties and fears. My own loneliness. I still sleep better with a light on. Still can't quite relax until my hubby's warm body is snuggled against me when I sleep. My own fears.  Still can choke some days on the anxiety that rises so easily in me. Still feel so afraid so unexpectedly. But if I could just keep these things from rising in her. If I could just love her enough and train her enough so that she never felt afraid, never felt worried, never felt alone...

Then all the books and articles on children's sleep habits I'd read raced through my mind. "Don't stay with your child until she falls asleep...don't let children sleep in your bed...bad habits...no going back...teach them to cope..."  But this was not a moment to train her to cope. This was not a moment to abandon her to research best practices or push her off the diving board and hope she swam. This was a moment to demonstrate that as long as Momma is here I will help her fight her fears- on my knees, yes always- every day before God asking and petitioning; but sometimes, too, squished next to her and 15 stuffed animals in her twin sized bed, snuggled up close, singing the fears away. And I felt...grace.

Maybe sometimes we aren't supposed to fix the problem. Maybe sometimes we aren't supposed to take every teachable moment and try to instill some deep value that will create growth. Just maybe sometimes we can meet someone in our frail imperfection, tell them we understand, hold their hand, and cry right along with them.

Or maybe sing a song till the fears are gone.

And the harsh reality of this world, especially as it relates to the ones we hold most dear, is that our love could never be enough. I will never be able to love her enough to protect her from all the loneliness and fears she will face, but thanks be to God that His love is enough to hold us both when she does face them. His love gives me songs to sing in the dark and lonely places. I can hold her tight because He holds us both tighter. Thanks be to God.

And so we end the night with me holding on tight, whisper singing "Jesus Loves Me" and "You are my sunshine". And she smiles. Through the fears.

"Casting all your cares upon Him, for He cares for you..." 1 Peter 5:7

I'm Taking Christmas Back!

We received a toy catalog in the mail last week filled to the brim with all the things my children need this Christmas. I keep getting emails from certain stores with alluring pictures of shiny girls with new dolls and rough and tumble boys with bikes and trains and video games...and of course, I perused the catalog and viewed the emails. What good mother wouldn't? Of course if there are amazing toys out there that my children must have I must begin executing a plan now to ensure they have it all. Layaway? Credit cards? Overspending? Doesn't matter how we do it! Our children MUST have an epic Christmas and toys and gifts will make it so.

But then, as I was driving yesterday contemplating why Santa is such a big deal (that's another controversy for another post), I realized this: Christmas is already epic. The God of the universe sent Himself in human form to the earth so that He could have a relationship with the people He created and ultimately ensure we could have a relationship with Him forever. It is...mind boggling, insane, crazy and yes, EPIC. So what on earth do these toy catalogs have to do with that? Why all the commercialism and stress and abundance of so much crap we don't need? (Wow, thanks for the pen that is also a paper weight and alarm clock! It's what I've always wanted!) I suddenly, in this moment of clarity, saw a great need for simplicity.

I called my husband who I had just recently gone over a Christmas budget with and said, "I know how we can and why we should reduce our Christmas budget by 80%." (He was very excited by the way I began this conversation!) I went on to explain the idea of a traditional, home made Christmas and all the reasons I wanted out of the Christmas Crazies. I suggested we make gifts for our children using simple and affordable materials, make our own Christmas decor and focus this season on family and faith instead of gifts and spending. In short, I asked his permission to simply bow out of all the crazy spending, plotting, scheming and stress that comes with what should be the most stressless and thankful holiday we celebrate. He loved the idea! So when I arrived home, I began some online research on a homemade Christmas only to realize I didn't need any help. I know my children and the things they like. Besides, I wasn't trying to recreate some one else's homemade Christmas, I wanted to create ours!

We decided on some truly unique, truly fabulous gifts for our children that are low cost and high appeal and partially or completely homemade! I won't buy one new ornament or decoration this year. Instead, Peanut, Bubby and I are going to make everything we decide we'd like out of around the house supplies! We're going to read a lot of books about Christmas and the reason we celebrate, have a simple birthday party for Jesus, and spend time together as a family. We'll eat food we love, make snowballs (please? A white Christmas pretty please?), drink hot chocolate and maybe even sing some carols.  Our budget is still going to be in tact on December 26th and maybe my children won't feel like Christmas is over after opening their gifts. Because isn't the "spirit" of Christmas about more than running to the tree and opening presents? As exciting as that is, it's a momentary fix that quickly fades. Do you even remember what you got for Christmas last year or what you got your children? My greatest Christmas memories from childhood mostly don't include gifts (except- I do remember the year I got Michael Jackson's History album! I heart him!). What they do include is my Grandma's lap and her sweet potato pie and how she always smelled of sweet perfume. They include Meah and I finding our Christmas shoeboxes (another post on a Christmas tradition I will share with you later!) and the delicious cookies Grandma made rolled in powdered sugar. They include snowball fights with mom and dad and spending the whole day with the family with no other agenda. I'm taking Christmas back for my family this year. I'm bowing out of the stress and the spending and the worry if it is enough and the all the craziness.

I have never been more excited about Christmas.

Now, is it too early for Christmas music?

Our "We"

Things are still pretty slow moving around here just 3 weeks into welcoming home Little Baby Diva (LBD). *Appropriately named as she won't sleep at night unless being held. But she's cute, huh?

I just got around to putting away laundry I washed a week and a half ago. I finally vacuumed and dusted the living room. And my lounge pants are still my favorite article of clothing. I still have had no desire to go out on a family outing save to church and Target. And we are eating such simple, borderline junk food meals (except that they are homemade so that's better right?), that I am afraid my kids have forgotten what fresh veggies taste like. Such is the life of a mom with a newborn. We are mostly in hermit/survival mode. Except that, a couple weeks ago, when LBD was just less than a week old, we got an invitation to a birthday party for this past Friday that I RSPVed to right away. Even though I was tired, even though we had a newborn, even though I knew there was a high likelihood that the day of the party would come and I would be almost too exhausted to find something decent to wear and to get the kids dressed, I knew we were going. Because the invite was from a family in our community of friends that is more like family than friends to us.


We go to a church that we love. We've attended there for years, were engaged there (literally there because that's where Reuben proposed!), married there, and have raised our kids there as well. We adore it. But it is large. And growing. Each weekend we see different people and sometimes never our close friends who attend different service times. We are so thankful for our church, but also for what I feel is our "mini-church", which consists of a few families we have grown so close with, they are our family.

Friday night, we joined most of these families to celebrate the birthday of one of the boys in our group. I had been looking forward to it for some time and when we arrived I remember feeling joy and relief to be with people I loved so much. We ate great food and had great conversation. At one point, one of the two year-old boys in our group felt it important to demonstrate how he could spin around in a circle, (after his older brother demonstrated it first), and I felt strangely emotional when all of the adults in the room stopped what they were doing to watch this demonstration and then cheer wildly as if it was the most amazing thing we had ever seen. A smile covered the little guy's entire face and the adults were all smiling, too.

Why does that matter? Why feel emotional about that? (Yes, the post-pregnancy hormones could have played a role.) But truthfully, I felt overwhelmed to be part of a community of friends who will celebrate our children and lift them up. I know that they will walk with us and celebrate with us through every milestone my kids hit, and pray with us through every setback. I know I can trust them with my children's hearts and not be disappointed with how they treat them. That's the kind of community we've built together.

When Peanut had to meet with a specialist to determine the likelihood of her having the same disease that ended my sister's life, these are the people I called instantly to ask for prayer and to share my worries. These are ones who called on the day of the test to offer kind encouragement, who sent encouraging texts and left voicemails saying they were praying and who anxiously awaited the results and then rejoiced with us when we received good news. And these would have been the same people who would have carried us and prayed with us if we had received bad. These are the ones who have prayed with us in our home for our children or any other difficulty we've faced. The ones who bring meals when we need them or kind words or open arms.  They are family. Our kids have known each other for their entire lives and I foresee lifelong friendships. We share the same values and interests, but also bring our own cultures and life experiences to the group. We can laugh and joke but also be serious and truthful.

We're family and I love them.

And it didn't happen overnight. We went through that awkward get to know you stage, and then the, "I want to be friends, but how do we do that stage?", followed by the "Are we at the point where we can call just to say hi?" stage and then a number of building stages after that, landing us finally at the, "I'm so glad we are doing life together" stage. Wish I had a group picture to post but we're all usually running around at different times or someone is never happy with their hair (usually me). But, you know who you are. I love you.

And if you don't have a "we" yet. Please keep seeking. We all need a "we". Go through the awkward stages. Invite people over. Join a connect group at your church or find a place to get involved. Find your "we". Life is just sweeter with a "We".

Peanut in the center with a couple of her "We". 

To you, whom we wait for

It was this long kind of weekend and each day I thought, maybe today is the day we will meet you? But the sun rose and set and you stayed safe tucked inside, wiggling and kicking and lodging that foot just inside my ribcage just the way your sister used to. I imagined you, your sweet face and maybe pudgy cheeks and wondered what color you'd have and how long those kicky legs are. Your sister rubs my belly and says she knows you're a sister even though we're not sure. Your brother gets long running starts and bashes into you and maybe already you're learning he's a little rougher and he's learning how to be gentle with you? Oh, how he'll love you.

I want you to know you're coming home to loving arms and legs and hugs and kisses and songs at bedtime. You're coming home to dance parties and family walks in the fall and spring and too many Christmas decorations (like there is such a thing) and so so much love. We're not perfect, this family of yours, and somedays we're confused and I can't find your brother's shoes and your sister doesn't want to do anything at all and I feel tired, but there is so so much love.

Daddy can't wait to meet you. He rubs my tummy and says your name in prayer and asks God what he asked for the two before you. He rubs my back when the weight of you pulls down and asks what else he can do to help me get ready for you.  He washes your clothes and sets up the bassinet, readies the car seat and reminds me to bring that pillow thing I really liked that last time. I smile at his excitement. Oh, how he loves you.

And I? Well, I feel like I've known you this whole time. Since the moment the ultrasound said, yes, you were there and when I felt you and now always feel you. And I love you more than I will ever be able to show you. I can't wait to see you and hold you and I'm sorry for the times I don't want to let you go.

But the truth is, we belong together. All of us.

And there is something else you should know. You are one of ours. That means we will fight for you and we will bat for you and we will lay our lives down for you. You never need ask. We will be here always, whether physically or just inside your heart and head. Your mommy and daddy guiding the way. Your brother and sister protecting and watching over you. We will share secrets and inside jokes, dreams and disappointments. We will hold your hand and protect your heart. We will pray for you and with you and ask God for wild things for you. We will laugh with you and build you up. We will forgive you and ask your forgiveness. We will always give you another chance.

You are one of ours and you belong right here. 

We are waiting for you. Our arms and eyes and hearts and lives are waiting for you. One of ours, precious one. We'll be right here.

See you soon.

Love, Mom

Easy Memory Preservation

I've never been much of a scrap-booker. Still, when Peanut was born I was determined to document her life in pictures with scrap books that could rival Martha's any day. I printed photos, bought books and decals, ribbons and other embellishments. And these precious items sit in the closet of our school room collecting dust.

I'm not super creative. Can't create impressive layouts and imaginary designs. Don't really have the time (or the money) to spend on scrap-booking classes and the latest trends. However, I desperately want to capture our life in photos that are on display for us to see frequently, not tucked away in my digital camera or in neat little inaccessible albums in our iphoto app. I recently saw an idea on Pinterest that I knew I could do and with a little tweaking, it has become a way to document our lives in photos on display presently, and can then transfer quickly to albums as well!

It's a picture timeline one middle school teacher began with her students to document their school year by month in photos! I LOVED the idea and knew I wanted to try it. I began our display on our school room wall. Here's how it turned out so far!

(June is missing because I apparently didn't order those pictures, so I need to order those. See? I left a space!)

Each page is a 12 by 12 page of colored card stock. I went through our gobs of pictures on iphoto and printed the ones that captured super special memories we'd love to be reminded of throughout the year. I added simple captions in sharpie to give a little information about what was going on in each photo.

I also purchased a simple scrapbook that will hold pages this size, so, at the end of the year, we will take these pages down and slip the pages into the scrapbook (which has 12 pages) and our timeline will be preserved in an album for us to revisit later! Then we will begin the new year!

I am thrilled about this project and how simple it is. The Littles loved looking at all the memories we made this year so far and it will be fun to watch them grow in timeline form along the walls of our school room! 

Thanks Pinterest for an easy, do-able project!

Sometimes what family is...

It's this slow moving kind of day. So much work to be done and how can everywhere I look display a mess that will require more attention than I can give? And the youngest of "The Littles" keeps tugging his hair with his little thumb in his mouth and collapsing on my lap. I need to move. There is so much to do. And the oldest doesn't want her animal crackers but wants to dump every tiny toy onto the floor I just managed to clear and her eyes flare with an ornery disobedience I sometimes love. She's so wild and free and most days I just want to dance with her. But there is another "Little" coming soon and wouldn't it be great if she had clean clothes and a little space of her own when she arrives?

Just one day, I want to be that "has it all together woman". Why don't I? Why is that feeling so far and in between all the dumped out toys and little thumb sucking clingy boys and detangling spray for that girl's curls just as wild as she is?

I offer TV and slip away to do more laundry, but they find me again and want... just me. I throw my hands up and give in to the "to-do list" that I won't beat today. The unkept piles of mail and the towers of toys and dishes from dinner that still linger on the table linger still. And at 12:00 when I should be making lunch we eat Chex Mix in my bedroom, everyone all smiles and crunching.  The youngest works well with me because I prefer the chex and he only the pretzels. The oldest holds hers in a bowl like a treasure to be cherished. And I wonder- what will matter to them when they are old enough to say? Chex Mix in Mommy's room or always clean sheets and never dishes piled? Their faces tell. And is any woman really the "has it all together woman"? Those ones who seem to have it all together maybe have learned that the only way to have it together is to sometimes let things fall apart. This new little one may not be carried into a perfectly cleaned and organized home. But she will find two siblings who love her and a mother and father who can't wait to add her to this thing we call family. And as we eat Chex Mix and crunch and laugh and slow, I realize that's really what matters.