The Day After Yesterday...

Yesterday was crazy busy. Eric was getting off of a night shift, Lyla and I got ready for and went to church together, we had plans with friends for lunch and then hosted small group at our house in the afternoon. It was a lot of stuff in a short period of time, which I don't mind so much once in a while, but it was a lot for my poor two-year-old. I fell asleep last night feeling bad about some poor parenting and woke up feeling even worse. I've been thinking a lot about why it was so hard and, while I'm trying not to give in to mom-guilt, I'm hoping to learn a few things and make things better next time we have a busy day. 

It was a day full of new people and new things. Overwhelming. No nap. Exhausted. Meals all wonky. Hungry. Meltdowns that I tried to brush off as no big deal... Little girl clinging to me when I was trying to set out snacks for small group... A goat-bit finger and excessive dog licking that probably frightened her a good deal... All things that I responded poorly to. And why? Because I was embarrassed. Because I was fearful of being judged. 

This is probably a direct result of judging other parents too harshly. We all do it, and with social media, we've got even more targets and ammo at our fingertips. This parent is being too clingy or that parent is too hands-off.... There's no winning for anyone. That sweet-spot in parenting is impossible to hit all the time... That place where you won't be judged for being too hands-on and or too hands-off. Managing to strike the perfect balance so your kids won't need years of therapy to undo all that you did. We are so hard on each other as parents and it only serves to bring us down and take away from our kids. I get so caught up in trying to be the best parent so that no one can say anything bad about the way I do things... Making sure I don't give in to the fussing and whining... Not responding to owies too dramatically and not babying too much... Nurturing as much as possible while allowing for independence... I'm so scared of the opinions of others that I end up not thinking about things from her perspective. Sure, those parenting goals are important and useful, but by worrying about the opinions of others, I can miss perfect opportunities to comfort and calm and nurture and build her up. 

Yesterday was rough. And I worried that my poor parenting had done irreversible damage (dramatic, much?!?) But today was a fresh start... Another chance to do things right. So, that's what we did. We had a pj morning and did whatever Lyla wanted to do. We had a 'yes' day, inspired by another friend who recently shared that she did the same. Rather than saying a million 'no's and correcting every single little thing, I said 'yes' as much as I could, and I tried hard to let the little things go. My heart is full, and my girl has sweet new memories with her mama. Win win. 

So, what did our 'yes' morning look like??

This. 

Yes to writing/mailing letters and coloring outside. Yes to the annoying straw ice cream cup.

Yes to jumping in puddles. In PJs. Over. And over. And over. And yes to piggy-back rides running around the yard.. Dirt? Mud? Wet? Looking like a fool? Letting it go. 

Yes to "visit daddy at work". Still in PJs and mama not close to looking presentable? Letting it go.

Yes to blowing bubbles. "All by myself." 

Bubbles dumped on mama? Letting it go.

Yes to a lunch of "crackers and cheese", with Minnie, in a big-girl chair, while wearing fancy shoes. 

Yes to cuddling in mamas bed while watching Veggies after nap. Shorter-than-usual nap? Letting it go. 

Things are looking up, my friends. I might even be able to sleep better tonight than last... With fewer worries that one rough  parenting day had ruined my little one... This whole parenting gig is hard. And it's near impossible when we are consumed with self-doubt and fear of judgement. We are all just doing the best we can and, when those inevitable poor-parenting days do happen, we can rest assured that tomorrow is a new day... That there is grace to cover every oops or "I wish I had"... That everyone else is in the same boat. Here's a virtual high-five. Keep up the good work, people! 

Sarah

You're Growing Up

Lyla,

It's getting harder and harder to keep up with you. You are going places, girl. Your mind is working and your feet are running.. All. The. Time. You have your own thoughts and ideas and opinions and I have heard "No thanks mom" more times than I can count. You like to tell me "no", which we need to keep working on, but at least you're polite about it. 

This week we've been using lots of extra bandaids (Sorry to get you mid-bite there... I was just so proud of your good bandaiding-job!) It seems like lately you just keep getting all scraped up. Your fingers and toes, your knees and elbows... They have all seen better days. Now, whenever you need (or want) a bandaid, you have to put it on "all by myself". So, I give it to you, still in the wrapper, and you peel it away and stick it on, often somewhat successfully (although somehow you managed to get this one stuck in your hair...) 

It's another sign that you're growing up. Just like the light-up shoes we just had to buy you in a size 7... You're not a toddler anymore and you're definitely not a baby. You're a little kid. And I love it. I love all the new things we get to do together now that you're older. I love all of your new words and phrases and personality traits that are revealing themselves more and more each day. I love that you can play on the playground (mostly) on your own. I love that you can and want to help with all of the things all of the time. You are a lot of fun! But it is hard not to mourn the other side to you growing up... 

Adulthood... Big-people problems... Every few months, certain situations come up that cause your mama a good deal of stress. I start thinking, "But I'm just a kid. I shouldn't have to deal with this." And then I am reminded that I am your mama, officially in my late 20's and definitely not a kid anymore. There's this other side of growing up... The side that knows too much... The side that is increasingly tempted to fear and worry about the big things... Stuff that little ones are, appropriately, shielded from. As you grow and learn and can do more things, I'm mourning the sweet ignorance and innocence that part of me wishes you could hold onto forever... 

But I know that as you learn more about this world that you live in, you will want to help. You will want to do big things. Over the next 20 years, your eyes will be opened to the hurts and pains and injustices in the world and, I pray, your heart will be a little bit broken by it all. Because that is the only way to live... Eager to do your part to make things a little bit better.

So, sweet Lyla, keep growing and changing. Keep learning and exploring and wanting to do things "all by myself". Enjoy still being little and ignorant of most of the issues in this hurting world. And, for now, I'll be praying hard for that feeling-heart you inherited from your mama... That it will be tender enough to hurt for the pain of others and strong enough to do something about it. And that you will know that you do not have to carry these big-kid-burdens on your own. Your mama is still trying to learn this... God gave us feeling hearts for a reason and He will help us with the load that is too heavy to carry on our own. Keep spreading little bits of joy and love wherever you go. You may still be little, but you can do big things. You make your daddy and mama so very proud. 

All the nose-kisses,

Mama

Big Enough

"Everyone is big enough, big enough to do something."

This Daniel Tiger song has been sung over and over and over in our house lately. The first time we heard her sing it, we were working on painting the family room and kitchen. She came over to me and grabbed the end of the paintbrush I was using and, while painting the wall with me, sang "everyone is big enough, big enough to do something". And a little part of me freaked out because it was the first time I had seen her actually connect a lesson she learned in her show to a real-life situation. She's growing! Since then, she has wanted to help with everything she possibly can and often sings her little tune, almost as a way of cheering herself on. "Go Lyla!" "You can help!" "You're big enough!" 

She wants to help with the sweeping and mopping and dusting and hammering and yard work and cooking. The other day she and I made breakfast for Daddy and it was the best start to our day. Rather than telling her no or putting her in front of the TV so I could get things done myself, I included her. I said yes. I confirmed in her little head and heart that she was big enough. There are countless times we have to say no. Situations where we would be irresponsible to let her help... But there are numerous times that we can say yes. We just need to set aside our time-table and somewhat-obsessive tendencies. We have to let go of the fact that things might turn out a little different than if we were to do them ourselves. 

It's impossible not to see huge similarities between this whole parenting gig and my relationship with God. It is becoming more and more clear to me how God gently parents us and guides us as we grow and learn. This new "helping" stage with our girl is no exception... God doesn't NEED my help to take care of His world anymore than I NEED Lyla's help to take care of my house. He could certainly do it on His own... But he says "yes". He says "you're big enough to do something". He gives us the opportunity to be a part of caring for the people and the Earth that He created. And, sure, sometimes we goof up... We make a bigger mess than was there when we started... He might even think to Himself how much easier it would be to just fix things on His own. But instead He invites us to help... To use our gifts and passions to bless the world. What a gift to know that we are enough. That God can use even us messy toddlers to make the world better. 

So, next time Lyla asks to help and I am tempted to say no, I'll think twice and remember my God who, in His grace, says "yes" to me. I'll find an extra paintbrush or duster or wooden spoon and let her go for it. Because we are all big enough to help... Two-year-olds included. 

"Mama! Butt All Messy!"

I recently read this blog post, written by a fellow Chick-Fil-A loving mom. My own mama had recommended it, saying it had made her laugh out loud. Now, my mom typically reserves her laughs for true hilarity, so I knew it must be good. I read. And I laughed. Hard. And I thought to myself, "Wow! We haven't had any really good poop stories since we became parents". Sure, we had a few newborn blowouts... One particular disgusting one that happened our first Sunday at church after she was born... In the sling... In the middle of the sermon... Without us knowing... But we had never had a really good deserving-of-its-own-blog-post poop story. UNTIL NOW.

The night had started like any other night... We went out for hamburgers with Lyla's very best friend. We burned off some energy at the playground. We came home and did her bath (the first one of the night...). We went back out to walk a friend's dog. And then came home and put our girl to bed. 

We were picking up the house and getting ready for bed, all the while listening to her sing in her crib (tonight "Oh Where is My Hairbrush" was her song of choice...) Daddy happened to walk down the hall and, passing her room, took a big whiff of the most horrendous smell. He opened the door and took one look and yelled for me...

Upon entering I, too, experience the stench and see a clean (CLEAN!!!) diaper lying on the floor next to a small pile of poo. Lyla standing in her poo-covered pj shirt in her poo-covered crib next to her poo-covered Bagoo water bottle (sorry Uncle Bagoo...) Surprisingly very little was on the sheet... Hmm... Moments later, I've got the girl standing in the bathtub and I'm spraying her down, when I hear Daddy holler again. This time louder. He had pulled the crib out from the wall and found an even bigger, more disgusting poo surprise behind her bed. 

***Enter all the choice words here***

She knew she wasn't supposed to poop in her diaper (we are loosely potty-training right now...) so she must have taken it off and squatted so that the majority of the mess would fall right out of her bed. Brilliant. If nothing else, we are raising a very SMART GIRL. Who would want poop in their actual bed!?!?

So, we got her cleaned up... Mama cleaned the girl. Daddy cleaned the EVERYTHING ELSE. The natural, homemade cleaning supplies traded for the big guns because POOP. The bedding changed and laundry started. The diffuser run with lemon and lavender oil to help with the smell and sleep. And then we sat down together and had a long, very repetitive, chat about how we DO NOT take diapers off and we DO NOT poop in bed. We laid her back down and listened to her sing ("Jesus Loves Me", this time) until she fell asleep... 

And I thought to myself, "Self, there's your very own blog-post-worthy poopy parenting story". Because surely someone else out there needs a good laugh. So, there you have it... No deep thoughts. No metaphors or lessons. No profound insights. Just a good poop story to make you laugh. Right now there is so much crap (ha. pun intended.) being spread around, especially social media. Gossip. Fear-mongering. Lies. Deceit. STRESS. And it really stinks (haha. pun very-much intended). So, hopefully this was the opposite of all that... A real-life story of real-life people doing their best to raise a real-life little girl... Poop messes and all. 

Two

My baby just turned two, which feels like a pretty big deal. There were donuts and presents and cupcakes and friends and family and food all weekend long. We celebrated her little life pretty darn well, with plenty of sugar and lots of her people. Success. I know I should probably be crying all the bittersweet tears and begging time to stop because my-baby-is-growing-up-too-fast-and-I-can't-even-deal, but I'm actually pretty pumped. (In case anyone thinks I'm dead inside, I shed a couple when we set up her big girl bed... Come on, I'm not a robot.) 

Don't get me wrong, I have loved these past two years with her, but the newborn/infancy stage was really, really tough on me. This time two years ago, we were settling in to our first night at home with her, and I was an anxious, terrified, exhausted, hormonal, weepy mess. And I was like that for months and months... And months... So, when I say that I'm not super sad to be two years out from those early days and weeks (and months) with my girl, I mean it. I count myself blessed to have been able to carry her in my belly for nine months, bring her into this world and breastfeed her for the first year of her life. I do not take these precious things for granted. They are true gifts, and I am thankful for them. But in the spirit of being real and honest, I will tell you that those beautiful experiences were the most difficult of my life, and I'm thankful to be past them.

I'm loving having a toddler. I love that we can communicate with each other. I love that we can play and that I can see her learning new things everyday. I love that she is quickly learning to value her people over stuff. I'm thankful to be where we are at. And I'm truly not mourning her transition from baby to child. I can look back on the brokenness of my early days as a mom with gratitude and fondness, knowing that as with all things, God is the best at creating beauty from pain. This is why the theme of grace is such a big deal for me... Why I talk about it all the time and why it's the title of my blog... There are pictures of it everywhere and, lately, I can't help but see and share them. My baby just turned two. And it is a big deal. Because of grace. We celebrate this milestone because of loads of grace. 

Scared

This morning we were rushing to get ready for church. Last night I was up way too late, struggling a bit with the midnight noises and a wandering, anxious mind. So I slept in way late... So late, in fact, that Eric had managed to drive and get gas, mow the yard, and finish the mulching. All before I got up. #rockstarhusband

So, we were getting ready for church and Lyla was hanging out in the bathroom with us so that we could supervise and avoid such things as coloring on the walls and peeing on the floor. I pulled out my blow dryer and explained to her that I was going to do my hair and that it would be loud. Her eyes got as huge as her Saturday morning pink sprinkle donuts and she said " scared". And my heart sank a little bit. As far as I can remember, we haven't really talked much with her about fear or being scared of things, but somehow she already knew to be anxious. 

I worry about this on a somewhat regular basis... Passing this anxiety, that I am so prone to experiencing, on to my little girl. Ironic, I know... Truth is, I never knew anxiety quite like I did after she was born... When the worries and fears seemed endless and the dark nights long, accompanied by a pounding heart and terrifying dreams. But here we are, coming up on her second birthday, and I can honestly say, I'M NO LONGER A SLAVE TO FEAR.

This does not mean I never get anxious. It doesn't mean I don't sometimes have long nights where I feel helpless to protect the ones I love. It doesn't mean that there aren't legitimate things in thing in this world that are scary. But by God's grace (and with a little help from some meds) it means that I can cope with the things that used to keep me up at night... That I can think clearly enough to pray for peace and protection... That I notice those things that trigger my fear and I choose to avoid them... That I can teach Lyla how to fight against the anxiety that very well might threaten to take her captive, too. 

Right now there are a lot of people in our world who want us to fear. Politicians. The media. Terrorists. It seems almost everyone has something to gain from our fear and it often feels like there's nothing to do but to give in to it. But there is such a beautiful freedom in the peace of Christ... The knowledge that nothing in this life can keep us away from Him... That there is no pain or sorrow in this world that heaven cannot redeem... Knowing that we do not have to live in fear of man, disease, heartbreak or hair dryers. 

We have a great Protector who takes good care of His children. And He will heal our hearts when this world does manage to break them. Fear does not own us. We can rest easy in the beautiful peace found in Jesus. So, friends, sleep well tonight. Know that you are deeply loved and fiercely cared for. It's a new week filled with it's own new challenges and anxieties. Let's be covered by grace and walk ahead confident that whatever happens, it's going to be alright. 

Sarah

PS: This morning in church, after Lyla's moment of "scared" in the bathroom, we sang this song. How fitting. And this second one... Well, it just fills me with hope for the times when our hearts do break and the pain of this world seems all too powerful. Be encouraged. 

Mom of the Year

This is our new Tuesday morning ritual... Mom dates. Every Tuesday we get together and we share donuts and coffee, kiddos and babies, sand and sunshine. We chat about our lives... Being moms, resident wives and women. We ask questions and give helpful advice. We swap kids when we've had it up to "here" (*reaches as high as possible while on tiptoes*). We vent and say plenty of "me too"s. We joke about competing for Mom of the Year... This time I'm pretty sure it was a tie between Coty and me... She forgot to bring her kiddo's clothes and I fed mine a sandy donut off the ground. WINNING. We have to laugh. And I realize this group is one of those things that will help to sustain us through the next several years. Knowing we are not alone. Knowing these other mamas are there when we are losing it and daddies won't be home for hours. Hearing sweet words of encouragement when we are at our lowest. 

This has been the hardest week since we moved here. My patience has been paper-thin. My girl has been extra whiny and extra into-all-of-the-things. And daddy has been busy with work, which means mama-breaks are few and far between. It's easy to start feeling the guilt pile on when I realize I've raised my voice more than not and I am constantly trying to peel off the two year old barnacle that's attached itself to my legs. While I am incredibly grateful for my healthy, active little girl, I don't enjoy EVERY SINGLE MINUTE of parenting. *Cue more guilt* The house has never been messier, and I don't even know where to begin to make it livable again. We are currently a hot mess. There is no magic fix here. I've got no answers or creative solutions to share. But there is grace and tonight it looked like daddy sending me upstairs with my dinner and wine to have some time ALL TO MYSELF. Bless him.

When the clouds clear and I've wiped my tears after taking a sippy cup to the face during bedtime (no joke, that was the cherry on top of our day), I can still count the gifts... Reminders that our messy life is still beautiful and that even the hardest of days are filled with moments of goodness...
Lyla peeking through the fence to watch our neighbor, Mr. Dean, mow his lawn. 

Little braids watching daddy mow the lawn. 

A brief moment of quiet time when nap was all-too-short. 

Sprinkle donuts that could have passed for breakfast cupcakes. 

So, here's to a new day. Tomorrow HAS GOT to be better. (*Pause to run and put a toddler hollering "potty" on the toilet. Success! Win! Another gift.*) We've got this mamas and friends and strangers-who-read-my-blog. Here's a reassuring pat on the back. We all could use one. There's no shame in bad days but there's new hope for good ones. Be kind, Wednesday... We're coming for you. 

Sarah

PS: My brother just sent me this... Apparently little miss had some fun with Uncle Bagoo's iPad last week when he was here. A good, much-needed laugh before bed: check. Gift.

Love and Kindness

A year ago we moved. Again. This was number five for us in our five years of marriage. It didn't make practical or financial sense. But we did it. We left downtown Des Moines for the suburbs, knowing full well that we would most likely be moving again the following summer. We traded a third-floor apartment on a busy street for a townhouse that opened right up to the yard and parking lot. It wasn't perfect, but there was fresh air, slower cars and fewer drugs (as far as we knew...) It was refreshing and it turned out to be a really good choice for our family.

We quickly met our neighbors and worked on building relationships. We soon learned that there were A LOT of kids in the neighborhood and they were on their own after school... Free to roam and play and, sometimes, get into trouble. Our next door neighbor kids became an added part of our little family for a few months before they themselves moved away. They would come over after school and tell us about their days. They'd stop by if they were bored or come in for a snack. They'd play with Lyla and they loved taking Scout out on walks. We spent many, many hours with them. We talked A LOT... Er, THEY talked a lot. We mostly listened. It wasn't always easy (see last post Re: love is vulnerable...) but I have fond memories of those sweet kids. And I miss them. A lot.

There is a point to this story, I promise. And, yes, it does have to do with the recent terrible news that just keeps on coming. It is sometimes hard to know what we can do to make the world a better place for all people. And especially better, and safer, for individuals in the Black community. What can I, as a middle-class-white-stay-at-home-mom, really do to fight injustice and promote peace and reconciliation? I spend most of my days at home, with a little girl who has no idea the craziness happening in her country and in the world.

But then I remember those kids who used to come over all the time... And I realize that, right there... That is a little part of the answer. It is raising our own children to love others... ALL others. It's showing our little ones, and their friends, that, despite our different skin colors and backgrounds, we are all loved by God and equally deserving of kindness (not to mention equally deserving of life itself...)

Please hear me when I say this: I DO NOT HAVE IT ALL FIGURED OUT. I am not AT ALL trying to brag or fish for praise. I certainly don't get it right all of the time, and am in need of enormous amounts of grace. I still struggle to figure out how I fit in this greater mission to create a safer society for our minority friends. In this case, we were blessed with a unique opportunity to love on some great kids and we took it. There are countless other opportunities that we miss. We cannot do it all.

But we can live in a way that demonstrates what it looks like to love each other.

It looks like pizza parties and movie nights... Water play and making messes... It's building forts and cleaning them up... It looks like an open door and a safe space to talk about middle school strife and at-home stress... It's loving someone else's kids as if they're your own and modeling for the future generations kindness and respect.

That is what this middle-class-white-stay-at-home-mom can do.

Sarah

Play Dough and Princess Undies

This point in our parenting journey with Lyla is an emotional doozy. I suppose they all have been in their own special ways. And truly, the reason has been there all along too... I simultaneously want to be able to stop time and hurry it up. When she whines for every. single. thing that she wants or needs: "time speed up". When she can't understand that I'm trying to help and fights me: "please, time, move it along". When she pulls away from me and throws a fit in the middle of Target: "time, FOR THE LOVE, just hurry up already!"

Then tonight I go into her room to check on her, expecting to find her sleeping soundly. Instead she looks up with those big blue eyes, reaches for me and says "cuddle chair". So that's what we do. I know it's a stalling tactic... She's too smart for our own good.... But we cuddle in the chair... Because I know she will only want to cuddle with her mama for so many more years... And I rock her just like I did when she was tiny, surrounded by the same nursery decor... Curtains sewn by my own mama and sweet paintings created by my most favorite sister-friend. She's all wrapped up in the same special quilt (only she's 2 feet taller now and her feet stick out over the side of the chair) as we rock, back and forth... Back and forth... I stroke her long, silky hair and kiss her warm still-chubby cheeks. And we sing. And pray. "Deeeir Jees"... She might not be able to say both syllables of 'Jesus' yet, but you can bet those beautiful little prayers reach His ears. 

And a tiny part (ok... a big part...) of me aches and I think, "Oh time... Please, please slow down." We bought her play dough and princess undies today. And I LOVE IT. I really do. I love that we are starting to do more kid stuff with her. I'm pumped for her to be potty trained someday, hopefully, in the near future... And for the tantrums to simmer down... For her to express her needs with words not whines... For easier, less embarrassing Target runs... But a tiny (read: big) part of me also mourns it. With each new stage we experience, she is moving a little further away from her mama. She is becoming more independent which, I hear, is one of the ultimate goals of parenting. But thinking about it--writing about it now--makes my eyes mist and my throat lump. So, as I begin this month that will mark two years of motherhood for me, this beautiful, heartbreaking quote is a precious reminder. Mamas, friends, readers: this is love. It fills us to overflowing and empties us of everything we have. It gets us excited for what is to come while keeping us grateful for what was. It is not always easy, but it is the only way to truly live. 

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." -C.S. Lewis 

Sarah

Residency: Day One

Well, it’s a big day for the Westergren family. Eric’s very first day of Family Medicine residency. I don’t have the obligatory first day photo complete with white coat and stethoscope… But I do have this… 

We had to wake up Lyla early so we could drive Daddy to his first day. His car is in the shop and the missing white coat is in there as well. Oops. So, as he got Lyla buckled I saw a sweet photo op. This is how I imagine the next three years… Juggling daddy and husband and doctor in style. As I consider the residency experience, I’ve got a lot of voices and opinions swimming in my head. You hear both extremes and everything in between from people who hear you’re about to start. Some say it’s significantly better than med school. Some say I should just expect to do life on my own for the next three years. Others say it’s totally doable and that there will be time for our family even in the busyness of it all. So, as I consider all of the things people have told me, and pay special attention to the wise words of the other residency wives at his particular program, I have the following expectations for residency:

He’s going to work a lot. Early mornings. Unexpected late nights. Evenings when he bounds in the door at 5:00, ready to put on his daddy-hat. Late nights when he walks in wearily at 10:00 and needs bed. He will have to work some holidays. And some weekends. And he will have quite a few others off. Some Saturdays and Sundays he may need to round on patients for a couple hours in the morning, and then he will be home with us. Many days, his pager will go on at 7 am and he will sign off at 5 pm. Others it will be turned on earlier and off later. He will do Lyla’s bath and bed time as much as he can and let me leave for mom-breaks now and then when he gets home. We’ll meet him at the hospital for dinner when he’s on call and get sick of Subway before first year is over. Sometimes he’ll struggle to balance it all and there will be times when apologies and forgiveness are in order. We’ll prioritize date nights but may go weeks (maybe even months) in between them (nothing new there :-). There will be a lot that he experiences that I don’t understand. And there will be some that I do. We'll do our best to communicate and support each other. We have a community of other residency families so we will all be well taken care of, even when things are particularly busy or hard. 

My days at home with my girl will be full. We will go to library story time. We will have play dates with friends. We’ll run errands and do laundry and dishes and plenty of coloring. We’ll go on walks and play outside as long as the weather will allow. The winter months will be long.. And we will probably just have to bundle up real good before we play outside. Because, let’s face it, we can only stay indoors so much… The days will inevitably get long (ironically I just had get up from writing to deal with a meltdown…) and I will be ready for a break by 4:00. It may not come til the next day… Or the next… Or the next… But even if Eric can’t take over, there are a few other moms I can call when things get hard. In the craziness of the evenings, I’ll sometimes forget to ask how his day was when he walks in the door. I’ll be spent from a day of kissing owies, giving timeouts, talking through emotions and cuddling a feeling girl. We’ll say bedtime and mealtime prayers, and probably a few more strewn throughout the day… I will snap and raise my voice and lose my patience with the dog and little girl and husband. That’s not a ‘maybe’. It. Will. Happen. I’ll say many “I’m sorry”s and we will share lots of hugs. Some days dinner will be on the table when he gets home and some days I’ll have him pick up Thai food on his way. The house will be a mess more often than not. But it will feel lived-in and many sweet memories will be made there. 

Much grace will definitely be needed. at. all. times. We will all have good days and bad… Proud moments and disappointing… And the glue holding it all together will. be. grace. We will do more than just survive the next three years. We will thrive. We will grow and change and learn. We will make life-long friends and there’s a good chance we won’t want to leave this place that we are quickly growing to love. Some of our expectations will become realities and some will prove to be a bit different. But GRACE… That is sure to be a constant. 

So, please follow along on this new journey of ours. It’s sure to be entertaining and, hopefully, somewhat encouraging and inspiring, as well. :-) 

Sarah

Welcome!

The other day I woke up with the husband's alarm at 5:15. Usually I go back to sleep. But this morning was different. I laid in bed, checked the news, had a thought and wrote... Before doing anything else with my day. I wrote. The rest of the day was profoundly better than most. Nothing particularly unique or fantastic about it. I just had a clearer head... An unusual motivation to do the sink-ful of dishes... To pull out the massive roll of craft paper, paints, crayons, markers and stickers and let the mess happen. For the first time in weeks I didn't go back to bed to take my own afternoon nap but instead sat in the sun and read. I still skipped a shower and wore my yoga pants that have yet to do any actual yoga, but my heart and head were right... From the early morning on. This is what I need to do every. single. day. (Or at least most...)

For years people have told me to write. Mainly just three people... My mom. My husband. And my best friend. They know me all too well. This is how I process best. Over the last four years I did very little writing. And they were four pretty hard years. So, here I am. Hoping to make the next four a little better. And hoping to share my heart with the world. A little bit at a time. I truly think most of my thoughts and words have been shared already, which is why I didn’t do this for so long… ANOTHER BLOG?? Do we really need ANOTHER MOM BLOG?? But maybe, just maybe, there’s one person out there that needs to hear what I have to say. I’ve been that one person. I’ve been over-the-top grateful that others have risked opening their mouths and saying the words I needed to hear. So, now it’s my turn. This is mostly for me, but it's also for you... Anyone who needs to hear a few encouraging words from this real-life mama.

Can I be honest with you for a moment? This. Is. Terrifying. For multiple reasons. One, I’m pretty scared of the internet. It’s a mostly healthy fear and usually it keeps me from doing stuff like this. But my passion and hope to make the world (including the internet) a better place is outweighing my fear. Two, anytime you share thoughts and opinions chances are that someone will disagree and WILL LET YOU KNOW IT. This freaks me out. I cannot stress enough how much I do not like confrontation. But, again, my vision is somehow outweighing my anxiety. Still, please be kind, internet-world!

So, welcome to my little corner. Stay a while, if you like. Or just grab a quick ‘bite’ between midnight feedings and diaper changes. You will not find perfection in this blog. We do "real life" here, just like in our home. Things are not always spotless and perfect. Pictures get blurry, toddlers cranky and mama often reaches the end of her rope. Maybe you can relate. Much grace is needed on a daily basis. And you'll find plenty of it here.

Sarah