I've a firm believer in living out my passions, in giving because I've been given so much, and in contributing who I am in order to comfort some of the hurt that is in the world. I believe in being a part of redeeming what's been broken. That sounds kind of big and fancy, but for me so far it's been things like giving out fairly traded chocolates and then leaving the door open for conversation, stopping the guilt for loving homemaking stuff , making a bunch of food and then inviting the chaos in, saying yes when I have the space for it but would rather hide out at home...
I want to do BIG THINGS in life, but I need to tell you something: I have no idea what those "big things" are for me. Everything feels like not enough. I am the mother of one little adventurer with another on the way, a wife, a fair trade advocate, upcoming adoptive mama, and I am anxious for MORE.
In my head, I know that raising humans and how we treat any person we encounter, whether directly or indirectly, are not small things, but they are so easy to discount. You are doing a great job as his mama. I say yeah, but....
Everything I do feels like a little thing right now. Little things are those that I'm not going to mention when asked, "what are you up to?" or "what's new with you?" I'm probably not going to share a whole lot of what it means to herd a human being through his own develop, go on to explain how I treated someone really well, or how I gave away my time and energy. Whose approval am I looking for, anyway?
I have no doubt there will be "more," but right now I am in toddler land, and I can do the food and the chaos. I can listen and share stories. I can give when I have something to give.
It's not fancy. It's not glamorous, but how I interact with my son matters big time.How I treat people who make my current lifestyle possible, the way I live out friendships, family relationships, my marriage- all of it matters.
I don't know if you're like me and don't "count" all those sorts of things as big things, but maybe we should stop that? You and I are making our mark on this world one day at a time. Some days it's hard and some days we fall and some days we have stories of triumph.
I am starting to believe that if I don't pay attention to the little things, the big things are going to be hollow, should I ever find them.
So I'm making it a point to come back here regularly, to talk about about the little things, and to offer a "me, too" after triumphs and challenges. I'm thinking maybe I can manage 2 or 3 times a week?
See you soon.
I have a problem with comparison.
I kind of, sort of, somewhere in there know that I like myself. There's a list of reasons why, which isn't what's important in this post. There is a list of talents and idiosyncrasies and amazing little facts that make up who you uniquely are and what you have to offer your part of the world,and you should get to embrace that and live that in a confident, whole way, too.
Sometimes I feel inflated with excitement over the fact that everyone has (or can have) these beautiful stories that aren't exactly the same as anyone else's. I'm comfortable with mine, and I want to engage and connect the dots live out what's beautiful about life.
And then I get tripped up over the fact that someone else seems better than me: nicer hair, writes more, more outgoing, more likes on Facebook (yes, I am admitting it, embarrassed by it, getting over it, and aware of the ridiculousness), has accomplished more, has done something I want to do but haven't, doesn't look like a hot mess when I do....
Whatever it is, I so easily and quickly forget that the unique mish-mosh pieces of who we are is one of the things treasure about developing relationships and sharing stories.
I have a 2-year-old son, another child in utero, and at least a few other young people who look up to me. I am still planning on adopting yet another child from a situation that couldn't be fixed. That isn't a push to be perfect, but it is a reminder that how I look at myself effects how I act and what they see.
Life with kids seems to make time go faster in some ways. I think about being old and what they'll remember and how Nolan is already two and where did my wiggly little baby go?
I don't want my kids growing up with a mother who was constantly second-guessing herself, who could have taught them to get to know who they are and be thankful for it, to live wild and free but was too scared to do so.
I play a sort of game with a long-distance friend of mine sometimes. I'll grab a cup of coffee (I like Equal Exchange, freshly ground, with organic half and half. I am clearly not high maintenance at all.), and write out a list of what I'm currently into. It's a little bit like we're catching up over coffee. (She's in Texas, and I'm in Pennsylvania.)
Because I haven't been spending much time sharing stories through blogging lately, I'm going to play that game today.
drink a green smoothie every day. and apple cider vinegar.
have a raging sweet tooth every night.
am listening to "7" by Jen Hatmaker via Audible and loving it.
aim to workout 3X a week.
am feeling large but mostly okay with that.
am excited for my entire world to come out of the cold-and-illness-induced hibernation we've been in. Let's reconnect. Let's drink coffee and share stories! Please, please, please.
I just keep saying, "look at that belly!!!"
One of the major differences between this pregnancy and my last is that I just don't spend as much time reveling in the tiny growing being I'm carrying around. I'm aware that it's amazing and kind of magical, but there are just some added distractions (hi, too many winter sicknesses to count + primary care of a toddler).
So, although it is altogether a bizarre feeling to realize and live in my body changing in such big ways on the daily (sometimes I enjoy it and sometimes, truthfully, I have to reconcile with it), I'm grateful for this big ole reminder to stop and soak up this amazing thing that is happening with my second child.
Also, pregnancy clothes! My mom recently spoiled me with some maternity duds, and can I just tell you I just got my first pair of leggings and I might be hooked?
For those who have been following along with my journey, if you're wondering whether we're still planning to adopt, the answer is yes. This is likely my last pregnancy, and then we will continue with our plan of entering into someone else's family and inviting them to be a part of ours.
I certainly don't write about pregnancy nearly as much as I did with my last; in fact, I don't publish many posts at all. I'm hoping to enter another season of writing and reading more.
As I inch my way there, you have any questions (pregnancy-related or otherwise) for me?
I'm not really talking about the physical changes, exactly. We all know (or at least suspect) there's a baby growing in there.
Here are a few non-textbook things that changed about me when my second offspring showed up on the scene (many of these happened with my first pregnancy, too):
1. I can hardly stand spinach. I've had one or two green smoothies that were tolerable since the beginning of this pregnancy. Other than that, spinach turns my stomach.
2. I have less of a filter. For the most part, I like this. I've had a conversation with one of my best that I've been wanting to for awhile and I told another she's been doing a hell of a good job with her toddler + twin babies. I like this version of me.
3. I want CHEESE. I'm pretty sure a good chunk of our grocery budget goes to Organic Valley these days.
4. I get winded going up the stairs. Yikes! Blaming it on the increased blood capacity, but it's still embarrassing when I have to stop to catch my breath at the top of a single flight.
5. I have nicer hair. I still need a hair cut (as usual), but I'm overall happier with it...even when resorting to last-resort hair supplies.
My "Getting Healthy Mama" Instagram account didn't last long. I'm just not a person who keeps separate personal AND health and fitness accounts.
I mean, really, I AM a person who likes to try a LOT of new things and can't seem to sit still (sometimes literally and sometimes figuratively).
EXCEPT. The last few weeks, I have HAD to sit still.
I am nearly 15 weeks pregnant; doing a few simple household chores wears. me. OUT. I'm trying to get back to working out; I did NOT work out today, even though I hadn't done so since Monday because, you guys, I vacuumed the house. I'm serious about this!
The temperatures dipped in the single digits; we had to stay inside because a degree or two is not quite enough for me to take my (albeit mostly tough) 2-year-old outside.
Also, my entire household got the flu, during which my son was waking up a few times through the night (plus my nightly need to wake up to pee at LEAST once; thank you, Tiny Baby.)
We've been tired. And staying still. The ball of Winter Blues got rolling for me.
I fell off the wagon of actively seeking out community (due to need- no one wants the flu!). I fell off the wagon of getting ready in the morning- yesterday, I spent my whole day in my pj's, developed a rat's nest for a hair do, and all-in-all put little effort into myself (other than eating). I've been frustrated and getting grumpier almost by the day.
Plus. I am not a fan of winter; I hate what it does to my spirit.
Last night, when I finally showered for the day, I realized I really just need to deal with the fact that winter and flu season is sticking around for a little longer. I can be mad about it, or I can be proactive about doing my best trudge through this next period of time. I tried (and succeeded) to get a good night's sleep and then I:
-got myself dressed and ready for the day as soon as it seemed feasible.
-had a morning outing ready to go.
-talked through my current parenting frustrations with a good friend.
-planned some play dates.
The difference between yesterday and today is amazing. I need to do that again.
But first! A good night's sleep. (Good night!)
I'm a strong believer in food as a foundation for a lot of things- community, energy, mood, quality of life...
Yet there is this part of me that struggles with abusing. I'm not talking about treats. I see nothing wrong with occasional treats; after all, they can be a fun part of quality of life. I'm talking about eating in mass quantities, eating so my mood dips low, so I don't sleep well, my energy dips, all of that.
I am a fan of food journals. Not the kind that count calories; I've been there and it's not for me. I've filled journals with what I've eaten that day, notes, shopping lists, highlights from the day...that kind of thing.
During this season of my life, sitting down to write what I ate is not how I want to be spending my time. There are cards and posts I haven't written, books I haven't read, friends I haven't met with....
This morning, I created a new Instagram account (in addition to my personal one, which is mostly pictures of Nolan) to document my adventures in making choices that lead to the quality of life I'm after. I think it's going to be a lot more fun than a food journal. Want to join me? Check out http://instagram.com/gettinghealthymama.
See you over there!
This little spunkster just passed out. At 4:48 pm.
Oh, it's been one of those days. The kind where I'm sure Nolan is testing me all the live long day and I'm failing. I'm sure there is a better mother out there for him.
My adventurer can now climb in and out his crib, so although he's not ready to drop his nap, he's decided he is. It's a choice that results in an ultra sunny disposition in the afternoon, I can assure you. He's also figured out how to knock down the gate keeping him in his room, so enforcing quiet time is out.
I was pretty sure I was about to lose it, so I called my husband to tell him so.
Waves of you can't call him, he's going to think you're doing a bad job. He's going to worry about leaving you home with him whirled around my mind. But I called. Just like I should have. Talking to Tim was just what I needed to breathe in and breathe out, go about the rest of the day with a better perspective, and be the better mother I thought might be inside me somewhere.
I have a hard time being vulnerable. That inner dialogue is kind of normal for me. Although it doesn't keep me from doing what I need or what to as much as it used to, I can't remember the last time I called a friend with an SOS call like that. I have some good friends, people I could trust with my insecurities (I'm failing as a mother. I'm screwing this whole thing up) and gently correct me if I need it.
I've been writing up some highlights from 2013 (which I'm not sure will actually get published- you may have seen how irregularly I tend to post) and then some ideas on making memories this year. And I do. I want to make memories and be intentional and not take my time with anyone for granted.
I think another goal for the year will be connecting. Giving people a chance carry my burdens- and that is hard for me to write, let alone do, but carrying burdens is what people who love each other do. My relationships aren't at all one-sided with me doing all the giving; I need to be doing more carrying, too- for family, friends, acquaintances, and strangers. I just think that practicing some vulnerability, especially during my ugly I'm going to lose it! moments will set me up for deeper connections.
I think that's what people who are trying to follow Jesus do- we get broken and poured out for other people. We carry heavy stuff for each other. I think that's where true community comes from.
I am a woman with several balls in the air and only two hands.
I know I am not alone in this.
I know this is not a new thing, that balance isn't something found and then attained forever. It's a teetering back and forth, sometimes falling, and getting up again.
I am working a job for which I am not qualified on paper, but I am trying hard to learn and do well at it.
I am wanting to keep our house clean and inviting, share meals, and be present and loving for my husband and son. I am trying to maintain relationships white fighting off the winter blues and figuring out which spot that doesn't center around ME do I jump into so I can give of myself?
I NEED all of those things- the working, the relationships, the taking care of my home, a place to give of myself that is REALLY giving.
Oh! and then there's self care.
Whether or not some do more (surely some do more or less), I don't know how I can fit it all in every day.
I'm pretty sure I can't do it all every day.
I can do some of it every day- the most important parts for that day, maybe.
And every once in a while, I'll get a surprise window of time when I can sit and write and feel the deep sigh of contentment that comes with it.
Today was...busy, and then there is this window of peace. I'm going to soak it up and I'm not going to clean or try to juggle anything. I'm just going to enjoy.
I realized yesterday that I've been entirely self-focused and as a consequence, debilitated by that.
Even by writing this, I am talking about ME, engaging in navel-gazing, focused on how I perceive the world.
Part of that is inescapable. You and I have our own unique perspectives to offer up right where we are, and there is good in that.
But I've been so focused on how I am being impacted that I've been forgetting about looking for ways to engage and listen and pour out what I have to offer.
As soon as I realized that, my whole being felt relief.
Because engaging and giving what I have to offer isn't only a chance to feel good about myself; it is being in relationship as I am meant to be. I give because I was made to have something to give and because doing so is a part of fulfilling who I am.
I am terrible about asking for what I need, but I have to practice. Because I have gotten into the ridiculousness of assuming those who love me will just know what I need and if they want to, they'll do it. But THAT JUST ISN'T TRUE. I need to ask. Just by doing that, I am being in relationship as I am meant to be.
Give and take. Give and take. Consider myself, but consider others just as much, if not more.
It's time to get back to that beautiful dance.