Sometimes Moms have Headaches

An open letter to the grocery store cashier…

Dear well meaning cashier man,

Sometimes children yell when they are unhappy, want something they can't have, are in transition from one place to the next or sometimes they yell just because they are 3 (read they have only been on this earth for 3 short years). Have you ever yelled when you were overwhelmed? I'm going to bet, yes. 

Also sometimes moms have a massive headache and they are just trying to get home with that one last ingredient because well, dinner still has to be made (headache or not). So, when you see that within 30 seconds she diverted a tantrum from her toddler who only yelled once, what you should really do is high five that momma or give her a pat on the back by smiling and saying "you are doing an awesome job!" 

Because can I tell you that what she doesn't need is a snide remark about how "somebody is not behaving today" And can I tell you that yelling one time and then listening to your mom and coming back around in a matter of one minute, is certainly not misbehaving, in fact I'm pretty sure that would be considered listening. At least this momma of a 3 year old considers that listening. 

What you saw today sir was not an unruly child. What you saw was super mom in action. A mom who didn't know if she would be able to keep her eyes open the whole way home but she did. A mom who still had responsibilities well into the evening that couldn't be put on hold just because she was in pain.  A mom who kept her cool despite the looming activities ahead and the very normal behavior of a 3 year old in transition. Let's just keep it real, normal 3 year old behavior in general. 

I don't blame you well meaning cashier man. But what I could have really used in that moment, was a well done momma, you just keep on keeping on... Go on wich yo bad self! (Was that too much? Nah.) 

Sincerely,

Weary momma today, super mom always

I am thankful that the weariness only lasts through the night but The Lord brings joy in the morning. He is my strength and my portion ~amen!

And to you momma who are reading this and can identify, Go on wich yo bad self ;) 

Disassociation From The Egg

I can't even...

I tried to tell my husband how I was feeling, over the television and my toddler.

"I just feel... I don't know? Like, disassociated from Easter this year"

The conversation didn't get too far, as most don't these days, unless the wild thing is fast asleep all tucked in tight. 

So I stuffed it back down, still searching for meaning. 

I have known Jesus all my life. I know what he did for me and for you... So why do I feel so disconnected from ths Good Friday and Easter that is to come? 

Then I saw this on Instagram. (Sometimes social media is a good thing) 

 

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That's right. Sunday is coming. And... HE GOT UP!

That's right. HE GOT UP! 

And the hope rises in my heart.

I process it all alone in the car on the way to fellowship with some women from Church.

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These lyrics come on the cd that plays in my car. 

Maybe it was the weight of it all. That Jesus suffered and died on the cross. He was beaten and mocked and hung to take my sin and conquer death. The weight, that I still, just can't completely wrap my brain around. That a Savior, a King, could LOVE me that much! 

Maybe it was the commercialism of it all. The fake and phony things that remain to distract. The convoluted meanings and traditions that ultimately take away from such a sacred, life changing history. 

Now, don't get all hip hop hooray oh, up in here. I'm not knocking on the Easter egg hunts. I too will be taking my wild thing to experience that in all it's glory.

But I need to be real here. 

We have a funny way of taking something in Christ's life and twisting it to meet our own standard. 

So maybe I feel disconnected from what we call Easter, the eggs and bunnies and commercialism. 

But this year, today, I am okay with that. 

Because I don't feel disconnected from my Savior Jesus. 

Today we wait. We think the tomb holds his body. We wait just as his disciples did, men and women alike. We wait because tomorrow He gets up. He is resurrected for me and for you. He conquers hell, sin and death so that we can live our eternity with Him. In all of His glory! 

And I am thankful, always thankful for His sacrifice and power! 

Jesus paid it all. All to him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain and He washed it white as snow. 'Jesus paid it all' -Elvina M. Hall, 1865 

Learning to Be a Boy Mom

I had decided to take a nap while the little one napped, so when my oldest came through the door after school I was still asleep in my bed. I heard Max's little voice call out to his bubby and they not so quietly crept through my door. Both hopped into my bed and the the 13 year old said "Wanna go to the park Max?" I groaned in response, "Ok, you said the word so you have to take him"…  I didn't mean it.

After a little coaxing I rolled out of my bed and we proceeded to the park.

I tend to be a selfish person. If I had had my choice I would have snuggled up in my bed with the 3 year old during his post nap sleepiness and we would have laid there just a little while longer. But I knew it was a gorgeous day out and we had been cooped up in this dark house all the live long winter days.

I left the piled up for days dishes in the sink and calculated how long I could put off making dinner so that I could just 'be' at the park with my boys. We trekked down the block and made our way to the little blessing of a playground and creek so close by.

I watched from my seated position. He searched for the biggest three rocks he could find and threw them as hard as he could into the creek. I called out to him, "Great job, buddy!" He turned with the biggest smile not knowing that I was watching him.

I swallowed my selfishness and tossed the frisbee back and forth with Q. I just keep noticing all the little ways my teen boy is becoming a man. He makes fun of the way I throw a frisbee but he still asks me to play.

As we left the park to return home, my heart was full.

I tried to stuff down all the past memories that filled me with guilt. You see, I wasn't always this kind of mom and if I am honest, most days I am still not. For one I am not really an outside person. When I was younger and raising my older son, my dad was the goto for outside playtime. I was good for coloring and drawing and playing inside, but outside? No,  I wasn't a big fan of outside. Some where along the way I think I realized that I couldn't always just rely on my dad. So as Max neared the age where I knew I would start hearing "Let's go outside mommy!" I decided it was time to buck up soldier! I made an unspoken promise to myself and maybe even to my dad that I would get outside more. Boys love to go outside and dig in dirt, skip rocks and splash in puddles, so it was about time I accepted that I was and will forever be a boy mom.

Learning to be a good enough mom on top of being a boy mom has been quite the journey for me. It has pushed me farther than I could ever imagine. And it has fulfilled me in ways I would never imagine.

Now I am here. Parenting a 13 year old and a 3 year old boy and some days, well, most days I really have no idea what I am doing. But I can say I am learning to love being a boy mom.

I sit back sometimes and just watch the two of them and my hearts swells so much it feels like it just might burst right out of my chest. I have heard it said that you are exactly the kind of parent your kid needs, that is why God chose you and it is about time I start owning up to that.

***I write my story to process and try to work out this life. I don't have all the answers and don't always get it right. But I am learning how to live in confidence, give grace freely and love more deeply.***

Daily Meanderings, Comings and Goings...

My mind goes about a mile a minute typically. I am quiet in the process though, sometimes confiding in one or the other but always with a trusted One. So I sit down to write it out and my mind, it just goes blank. I actually think that it is a form of stage fright. Every body else in blog land is better then I. They all have something to offer. A handmade business, printable, recipes, DIY's etc. etc. I act like I want 10,000 readers but the thought of THAt actually scares the crap out of me. Heck, having only one reader scares me. Why? Because I am insecure when it comes to writing.

I have grown significantly over the last two years. I have become more confident in many areas of life, marriage, parenting, socially, spiritually, professionally… but this writing thing, not so much. I don't struggle so much with confidence in my real everyday life anymore. But this online life I pretend to build. Yep, I struggle in the confidence department here.

So, as I was processing through this trickle of insecurity I asked myself, 'If I don't have recipes, DIY's, handmade craftings, etc. to offer this online world, what do I have to offer?' And the only thing that settled in my heart was Honesty. For the most part, I don't know how to be anything but honest. Sure, I am human, I bend the lines here and there, exaggerate a little or downplay often, try to get out of stuff without being 100% truthful. It happens to the best of us. But in my heart of hearts, I am pretty honest.

There is this line though. It is the Internet after all. Being honest means exposing myself, and thats opening a big can of insecurity there. Exposing myself to the global world! What? Why would anyone want to do that. Honestly, from where I sit right now, I don't know why people come here to expose themselves. But I do know when people are brave, brave enough to tell their stories, others are encouraged, built up and made hopeful. Reading others stories, lifted me out my depression after Max was born. And that is really why I write. To encourage, build and give hope.

But I get all squirmy because I don't have thousands of followers, or a blogging conference or products to sell you. Every time I come here to write something tells me that I have to have those things. Only the cool kids have blogs with thousands of followers, tutorials, grand ideas and giveaways. That is what keeps me from coming to this space. Insecurity. I am not a cool kid.

But why does that mean I can't come here and write my heart out? Why does that mean my blog isn't important?

It doesn't. And I know that.

Now, I just need to believe it.

So when you come here, you probably won't find an ground breaking DIY or the tastiest recipe. But you will find my heart, my real, honest, grace seeking heart.

I apologize for being gone so long… It's April already, did you know that? I am back now. And I hope to get a little more serious about this here space. Not too serious though ;)

Blessings to you!

Hope for Spring

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Saturday I was determined to get outside, I believe the temperature reached 60 degrees! In February! In Pittsburgh! So we hung out in a quaint little town, had nap time, then went back out to the playground. And my heart was happy. 

The weather this past weekend fooled me in to thinking it was spring. Come Monday the snow was falling once again. At times it was dreary and overcast but the sun showed itself too. 

My struggle with depression was kind of like that. After Maxson was born I had dark and dreary times, spring would peak it's head around the corner and things would start looking sunny. The next morning I would wake and the snow had come to visit again. When I finally felt like Spring would never completely return, I didn't give up! I pressed into God and sought out some help. 

For years I always struggled most in the winter. The apathy would set in and I would tread water just trying to survive until Spring or Summer. After a bit of counseling I was set, on my way to healing and despite my father's passing, last Spring was hopeful for me. 

This winter has been better than winter's past. I have tried to learn how to thrive through it, instead of just survive. There were moments of thriving, and other moments of surviving. "Will the bitter cold ever end???" But over all, I have been more stable, sound and engaged in life than any other winter before. 

I see the hope that is Spring! She 's peeked her darling little head around the corner. She is anxious to show up. And the winter that has settled in my bones, it's slowly shuffling its way out. Each ray of sun on my face, each note from the birds outside my window and each ounce of light that strays later and later into the evening, pushes that darn cold wintery blue right out of my soul. 

Hope springs up! And I am glad for the process. 

Blessings to you!

~Spring is right around the corner, I am hopeful!~

Five Minute Friday {On a Sunday}

So small is the sun as we look up with hopeful eyes. yet it's vastness is mind boggling

So small the little minds and hands and hearts that learn and tug and seek. Their grandness could make us weep.

So small the stars that light the night sky, we want to pull them down and keep them in our pocket. 

Sometimes small is large and it makes us grin ear to ear!

Sometimes small is large and it calms our hearts.

Sometimes small is grand and we fight back tears. 

The way he touches the small of my back or gives me that knowing grin.

The way my first born still settles in next to me, after all these years.

The way my baby squeals with joy at my sight.

All seemingly small ways with grand impact. 

So at the end of the day we offer up our praise in small voices. And the grandness of God brings us to our knees. 

I am linking up with the most terrific Lisa Jo Baker for her Five Minute Friday challenge, where she encourages us to write out our hearts for 5 minutes just because we love to write. No editing, no thinking too much, just writing. You can check out what it's all about here!

Let's Talk About Beauty

The word, the concept, idea of beauty is one that is near and dear to my heart. I have struggled for such a long time with my self image, not even necessarily my body image (that came after the second baby) but just never thinking I was pretty enough. Let's hash out some reasons why, shall we? 

Most of my physical characteristics were not the same as the more popular girls (and why did I want to be popular anyway?), my personal characteristics were very different as well and no one ever really embraced me for who I was; except maybe the one girl who remains my BFF, that's best friend forever if your weren't sure ;) The other girls were flirty, with blonde or brown hair and tan skin. They wore the right make up and the right clothes and watched MTV. Some got away with wearing short shorts and most had the low cut or mid drift bearing tee down. I was pretty much the opposite of these things. I was the awkward, quiet, red head with fair skin and modest clothes. I could go on and on about the damage elementary and middle caused me but I'll save that for another time. Maybe over coffee? 

And so, each insult, off the wall question and just plain old middle school stupidity effected my self image of beauty. The negative voices have always been louder then the uplifting ones. 

I am sure some of you have similar stories, even you blondes out there ;) (its joke, its joke) 

And so I have been on this journey (one of many) to find my true beauty. It is a journey that is always shifting and changing and growing me as a person. 

More recently I have been able to pin point some things that have made me feel "not pretty enough" 

Beside the worlds definition of beauty bombarding me at every turn, I have realized that I am mostly attracted to dark haired people. (I am using the word attracted to describe what kind of beauty catches my eye) I tend to love the colors that look best on people with darker hair and eyes. Orange, purple… well heck, dark haired people look good in just about any color. While browsing Pinterest most of the make up looks I am attracted to just look better on women with darker hair, eyes and complexions. Noticing these things made me see that my self image was lower because I felt that to be beautiful I should look like these women, dark hair, eyes and skin tone. My thought process was that, if I thought these women were the most beautiful, then everyone else MUST feel the same way. 

So I tried to cover up my read hair with blonde highlights or dark brown low lights (I was never brave enough to go full out blond or brown). I tried tanning and self tanners and hated every second of it. 

And the battle waged on. There has always been this inner battle of what I want to do and look like and what I am capable of looking like. 

I could never justify spending loads of money on name brand expensive clothing, bags, shoes, accessories. I never truly wanted to get rid of my red hair. I dabbled with comprising my modest rules. I still wish I could be tan! (but let's not go there today, okay?) 

And all the while God is looking down on me yearning for me to embrace the way he made me, yearning for me to see me like he sees me. His beautiful daughter that he created and formed and thought about before the earth was even formed. My heavenly daddy was thinking of me long before I was a thought to be conceived!!! 

God created me with red hair and he called it good! 

He created me with fair skin and calls it good!

He gave me a quiet disposition and called it good!

God, he knit me together in my mothers womb, knows the number of the hairs on my head and my inmost being and He calls me beautiful! 

Precious daughters! God has done the same for you. He knows every part of you, sweet ones, and he calls you good, beautiful, precious! 

And God's voice should be the loudest one we hear. Let us push away all the noise and confusion. Ask God how he sees you… I have been to afraid to ask but it's about time I let my daddy hold me. God's voice is louder then voices past, sisters He is louder then your own voice. Let us rest sweetly in the knowledge that God created us unique and beautiful, in His image and likeness, to be a vessel for his love. And let us pour that out onto others. 

Sister, You are good enough, you are pretty enough, you are beautiful! Leave here with that tonight. 

Praise Jesus!