Thursday, June 18, 2015

Dreaming Big

I haven't written in a while. All the usual reasons. My inability to sit down and commit to consistently writing on this small space of the internet that I call my own seems to punctuate my problems with consistency in general. I struggle with it so hard. The oils trend is super fun, and I have seen it work wonders. When I am consistent. Dieting is going so well, until I hurt my foot and couldn't do any sort of impact physical activity. Consistency went down the drain. What is it about the human spirit and that once we take a moment to step out of the rodent wheel we choose or find ourselves in that we can not seem to get back on?!


I am writing every morning. Every morning I rise early before my small people to have a single (or if I'm extra lucky two) hot cup of coffee. NOT. MICROWAVED. All my moms just completely nodded their head yes in agreement that that is the best thing ever. Almost as good as all the kids taking a nap at the same time and getting to watch one of your shows on netflix. What? You don't want to watch a mother episode of Ninjago? or Octonauts? or Miles from Tomorrowland?

When I rise for my morning dose of legal addictive stimulates I also sit outside. I enjoy the quiet and cool of the morning. I am alone with my thoughts. My hurts. My joys. My fears. My deep heart murmuring of my soul. My ideas. My journal has become this way of getting so much out so I can have room to breathe in and fill the empty spaces with breath and not burden. I have found so much of a gift in this time.

My morning time is one of the best parts of my day. One that my husband calls me crazy for doing, but I'm crazy for lots of reasons so I don't know why he bothers. I would like to hope that I could find myself in front of the computer a few of these mornings and to share my thoughts and dreams and deep hurts that come from a mamas heart with you lovely people.

We shall have to see how it goes. I know many bloggers and writers alike devote specific time of their day to sit, uninterrupted and write. I want to write. I want to inspire. To share a gift. I love sharing my life, my story and my struggles with others. It is freeing to me. It also allows me to give freedom to others. There have been many moments where a mama struggling with the weighted guilt of depression has thanked me for being the one to be vulnerable first. That is worth all the cups of coffee in the world. I want someday to be able to share my ever evolving story with women on a grander scale. I know those in my small world hear me talk often of the need for unity and transparency in motherhood. But, I am serious ladies. We have to find a way to become allies and all realize we have no clue what we are doing. But we all hope with every ounce of our soul we are doing it right. And, there are a lot of us who are desperately trying to find a way to even like what we are being called to let alone able to worry about doing it "right."

This is a journey and I'm trying to dream big. Trying to not become overwhelmed by my perceived bigness of the small things. And, right now. As I am typing my biggest comes and says he wants to do something with me. This blog could be bigger to me in this moment, but in actuality it is small. The time he WANTS to spend with me is big. Bigger than ever reaching 100s of women some day. He. Is most important. Reaching him is big. So, thats all for today.

Friday, March 27, 2015

Well hello there...

Sorry for the radio silence. You know how it is, and you know my excuses. There are four of them. They are cute, sometimes, and love to attract germs. Because they hate me. We've been sick a week and a half out of every four to five weeks.


Someone send in the CDC because they've got the plague or ebola or something. I just need them to take a pill. Usually a chill pill would be nice but in this case a get-rid-of-all-the-germs pill would be fantastic. I'll take six to go please.

None the less. Excuses excuses.

I've been finding myself, and my husband too, struggling to enjoy parenthood. I know. SHOCKER.
But, really! It's unbelievable how in the same moment I feel so much love for them that it can consume my whole soul down to my toes, I can also want to give them to a complete stranger and just walk away.

We were the side show, as we often are, at dinner tonight. Surprisingly enough they are almost well behaved at a restaurant. It's like playing Russian roulette with whether the waiter will spit in our food because our kids are being that bad. I keep hoping someone will see us, they will be taken back to the days when they have kids and then feel compelled to pay for our bill. You know like you see everywhere except for the places we eat at. Rather we find ourselves the center of attention and people like to literally point out how many times we've gone to the bathroom in respect to how many bites of my pizza I've gotten to take. The scales are definitely tipped on that one.

Hazel is finally potty trained. I don't say finally as if I should have done that long ago. No, no dear new mom. Do not think you are a failure if you haven't potty trained your 2 1/2 year old already. Because as if you don't have enough to do. I finally gave in to her begging to go on the toilet. She would say, "I need to go potty!" And, I'm all, "Great. You have a diaper on." {Insert annoyed face emoticon}

But, I finally gave in and she's doing awesome. Minus the "I have to go PEEP!" statements every 10 mins. 'Peep' in Hazelspeak is potty. It's one of my favorite things. That and 'farkle' (sparkle) and 'barilla' (umbrella) and so many other speech impediments I never want changed. Ever. I don't care if they go to college and sound ridiculous, I will love them. She pretty much lives life at a 10 at all times. Which. I LOVE. Obviously.

There are these wonderful, amazing, strait from heaven women who watch Hazel for me almost twice a week at the childcare where my bible study is. I swear to you every time they watch her they earn a jewel in their crown. I'm serious. They are saints. SAINTS I tell you. What's so wonderful about these women is they never once let me feel burdened or guilty that my daughter basically owns that toddler room. I mean, I'm totes proud of her for not taking smack from anyone. Except for her teachers. But, if I were to instill a character train in my girls confidence would be one I wouldn't need to worry about with her. They love her and I love them for loving her. She is the spunky crazy girl in the room full of boys and it doesn't phase her at all. I'll ask how her day was. Their response, "Don't worry about it." So basically it was a disaster. Cool. Thank you for not making me feel bad about it.

The funny and it's so crazy it's funny kind of moments are great. Easy to deal with actually. Even when they are all screaming at me I can laugh and let it roll off my back. But, when they are all whining. I loose my mind. I am completely annoyed by them and their inability to get their act together and talk to me like a normal human being. Because other peoples kids do that so I lead myself to believe. I complain internally and sadly out loud. I was commenting to my husband how our kids childhood will be filled with memories of me busting out in song all the time. Then he looks at me with that look like, "...and..." And me yelling all the time. Oh. Yeah. About that. Then, Cora says from the back row, "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW!" Cue laughter and then hanging my head in shame.

It's true. The neighbors know. They've heard it. But the yelling, I don't know if that's the worst part.

Because I apologize usually right away for that. The complaining. I don't apologize for. Almost never.
I was thinking to myself, what does the ratio of complaining vs. saying I love you look like in my day to day. Sad to say. It's shockingly out of order. I know this hard season of ours will look so different even a short six months from now. But, the reality is that they are children and we are children too. I need to be taught and raised just as much as they do. Taught to cherish and hold onto the glorious self revealing and hilarious moments. But also the not so glorious self revealing and hard moments. Moments where I watch them succeed in something I've tried so hard to teach them. Like the fact that Laine get's an outstanding on his report card in the area of 'demonstrates respect.' I couldn't be prouder of him. Or the not so proud moments when I hear them speak so harshly to one another, because that's how I demonstrate it to them.

They say you never stop learning. Well, whoever "they" are must have had kids. I've learned so much about myself and all that I try to ignore about myself. I've also learned so much about the strength in me. The hard I can walk through. The things that I can and want to feel burdened by. The simplicity I want to see in my lives and the childhood I want my children to have. Who I want to be. Who I refuse to be.

Who I will try every single day to represent to my small people. They are mirrors of ourselves in tiny uncontrolled forms. They say with no fear of judgement what their heart feels. They act on their feelings with passion and there is so much beauty in that. I want them to always feel they can say and express what is in there. That I will see its beauty and it's purpose. I will cherish it and them for it. They are a beautiful gift. Wrapped up in a tiny narcissistic bi-polar anarchist little adorable body.
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