"Truth. Let's hear some."

A friend of mine recently posted this as her status update on Facebook.  It's probably one of my favorite posts ever.  I've thought of it often and truly hope that I am living my life in such a way that truth is spoken by me and to me as often as possible.

So, let's hear some.

You have days where you think you aren't good enough.  Not a good enough spouse.  Not a good enough parent.  Not a good enough friend.  Not a good enough worker.  Just not good enough.

You have moments when you're not sure how you are going to make it to through the next hour, let alone the next five minutes.

There are times when you just want to lock yourself in a room and pretend the rest of the world is not happening right now.

Sometimes you throw socks or toys or clutter in the trash just so you don't have to clean it up.

You have moments when you want to cry because--even though it's hard--being a parent is the coolest thing you have ever done.

Sometimes you leave a few squares on the toilet paper roll just so that you don't have to put on a new roll.

You stopped buying white socks so that you don't have to see how dirty your floor really is.

You wonder if you will ever feel as alive as you do in this season of life.  It is the hardest and happiest time of your life so far.

You drive the long way home.

You wish you had a clean car.  And kitchen.  And bathroom.  And everything.

Having a clean car--and kitchen--and bathroom--and everything--is overrated.

When it's late at night and everyone is sleeping but you, you listen to their heavy breathing and wonder if you will ever love as much as you do right now.

You like looking at the wrinkles in your hands.  They make you feel like you've done things in life.

Mason at 5 months

Every mother says this, but it seems like yesterday that my baby was born.  I can still feel what it was like to touch his warm, slimy, soft, squishy skin for the first time.  He was so round...his tummy...his cheeks...his thighs.  At 9.1 lbs, there was a lot to love!

Fast forward 5 months.

Mason is still cute--and round--as a button.

His weight is just shy of 18 lbs, a feat his older brother didn't accomplish until he was nearly a year old!

The days sometimes seem long, but they are flying by.  In the craziness of parenting and working and living,  I like to slow down and try to stick some of these moments into my memory.

Here are the things I want to remember about my 5 month old baby boy

...how he molds perfectly to my body when I hold him, like a little koala bear.

...how he blows raspberries when he's having fun.

...how his eyes squint up into little crescents when he laughs.

...how he tries to hug--and eat--his brother when we read stories.

...how he stares with eyes that melt you when you take pictures of him.

...how his legs pop into the air as soon as you lay him on the floor.  (This kid will do anything to suck on his toes!)

...how his thighs are so squishy!  They are nearly as big as my biceps!

...how he grunts as he babbles, like he's talking straight from his diaphragm.

...how he stares and takes in the world.

...how he wags his tongue in and out and in and out when he tastes a new flavor.

...how fascinated he is by people.

...how much I love to hold him.

Moms say the darndest things

Sure, kids say cute things.

So do moms.  (And dads.)

I'm not sure if my "pre-mom" self would be amazed or appalled at some of the things I experience and say on a daily basis.  It's amazing how readily some of the classic mom phrases spill out of my mouth without even thinking about it.  It's also amazing what odd things tumble out in the craziest of times.  Here's a glimpse at what has come out of my mouth lately...

"Don't 'hammer' your brother."

"Oh, honey.  No, no, no.  That's what toilet paper is for, not your hand."  [EWWW!!!]

"Do not pee on the carpet.  Ever."

[insert various potty training related songs here...]

"Don't eat that snow.  It has chemicals on it."

"That is very dangerous."

"If you don't eat ______, we will save it.  And it will be your snack later."

"You need to ask permission before opening the fridge."

"Don't touch that.  Don't that either.  DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING.  STOP TOUCHING EVERYTHING."

"Let's practice staying really still."

"Yes, you have to wear pants."

"Where are your socks?"

"What are you eating?  WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?"

"Why are you licking the wall?"

"Let's only throw soft balls at the ceiling."

"What are you doing? WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT?"

And the ultimate...

"I'm going to count to three..."

Why being a parent is awesome

You've been a parent for years.

You have two kids.  Or three.  Or one.  Or four.  Or eight.

You feel like you've been doing this parent thing enough to say that you are firmly in the trenches.

But you still remember what it was like to wake up (or eat...or watch tv...or take a shower...) whenever you felt like it.

Sometimes, you have these "Zach Morris" moments where time stops.  You step back and take a look around at this life.

This amazing, 
crazy, 
messy, 
fun, 
never-get-a-break, 
dishes-to-do, 
pick-up-your-socks, 
don't-hit-the-cat,
laugh-til-you-drop, 
color-me-a-picture,  
let's wrestle, 
I-love-you-so-much, 
beautiful, 
beautiful, 
beautiful
life.

It's in these moments that the contrast to your pre-parenthood days is most clear.

It's when you notice how different things are.

It's when you realize that this conversation, this place in time, this room...is different.

It's different because your kids are here.



They are here.



They are here and they are living.

They are here and they are learning.

They are here and they are teaching.


Have you ever realized all the noises that surround us everyday?  I bet you have if you've ever been the parent of a two-year old.  What's that noise?  A truck.  What's that noise? Another truck.  What's that noise?  A car.  What's that noise?  A motorcycle.  Fast?  Yes, it's going fast.  What's that noise? A garbage truck.  Trash?  Yes, it will pick-up the trash.  What's that noise?  The dishwasher.  Clean?  Yes, the dishes are getting clean.  What's that noise?  What's that noise?  What's that noise?

And this goes on.

Every hour.

Every day.

And you love it.

It shakes you out of the dull bubble that you've fallen into.  When did you stop hearing the world around you? When did it all turn into this big mish-mashed gob of sound?

You get to experience the world all over again for the first time.

The first time you hold up your head.

The first time you grab a toy.

The first time you smile.

The first time you feel rain on your skin.

The first time you take off your own shoes.

The first time you GO PEE PEE IN THE POTTY!
(which you scream and clap for like HGTV showed up to give you a total home makeover)

The first time you lose a tooth.

The first time you squish yogurt through that hole in your mouth.

So many firsts...

So many smiles...

So many furrowed brows in frustration while figuring out how to do all of these firsts...

So many hugs...

So many kisses...

So much.

Love.

Being a parent is awesome.

My imperfect life

I have an imperfect life, and I love it.

I've been a bit absent from the blogging world for awhile, and that's because I have a new baby boy! Mason James was born on Thursday, May 30 at 5:28am.  He's pretty much an ah-mazing baby (praise God!), but caring for a newborn and a toddler has definitely been a challenge.  The hubby has been a big help, but my (already lacking) ability to stay in top of laundry, cleaning, etc. has taken somewhat of a nosedive in the past three weeks.

Sometimes that really stresses me out.

I have perfectionistic tendencies, and I really like when things are neat, clean, and organized.  However, I seem to constantly battle to make that happen.

I used to blame it on my hubby.  I thought that our home would be Pinterest-perfect if he would just pick up his clothes and wipe up the crumbs.  Then I looked in the mirror.  Metaphorically.  Really, I took one look around the kitchen to see the cereal box I never put back in the pantry, and the pile of washcloths I hadn't put in he laundry basket. My computer and calendar were spread across the counter.  This was my mess.  No doubt about it.

Oh, sure, the Mr. had his fair share of clutter lying around, but I could no longer deceive myself into thinking that I was not a part of he problem.

But tonight at dinner I realized that it really isn't a problem at all.

Not for me.

After we were done eating, my son-the-comedian was cracking up as he hid carrots inside of his T-shirt.  He laughed hysterically as he stuffed it down his shirt, and I could get over the adorable crinkles under his eyes as he asked us where it went.  The sheer joy in his face as he pulled down his collar to reveal the collateral was just TOO MUCH.  There was no way I could be upset that the collar on his shirt was completely
stretched out and the T-shirt was now more of a loose wrap around his tiny body.

I thought about how special it was that we were all here, in THIS MOMENT, laughing together, sharing life.

This is why I don't like to have a lot (any?) "perfect" things.  I don't want to risk being upset if they get ruined.  Things aren't nearly as important to me as the people in my life.

I looked over my son's shoulder at the kitchen chair...the same kitchen chair which we bought only six months ago.  Instead of looking shiny and new, most of our chairs look like something has been eating them.  Literally.  That's because our newest cat, Rambo, literally gnaws on the corners of all of our chairs.  I have no idea why. Believe me, it drives me insane and makes me want to clamp his mouth shut BUT someday I will look at those teeth marks and they will remind me of this cat, who in his own way has been just exactly what each member of our family needed from a pet.

Tonight I've been looking around the house through his lens, one of seeing the imperfect things as a testament to the life I am living rather than glimpses of what I wish it were.

The shoes scattered by the door tell a story of an evening playing at the park and being too excited for bath time to bother to pick them up.

The crumpled towel in the bathroom shows that (1) we actually wash and dry our hands and (2) I'm usually running out of the bathroom to make sure my almost-2 year old hasn't poked out the eyes of his little brother.  And, hey, that's WAY more important than neatly hung linens!

The basket of laundry in the living room is filled with the blessing of having clean clothes to wear.

If you come to my house, I will welcome you with open arms.  I'll probably apologize for the mess because that's what Minnesota women do. But really, I'll be more grateful for the sock war I had with my son than embarrassed by the laundry strewn about the living room.  So, come on over, but you might want to watch your step.

Sincerely,
A recovering neat freak


P.S.  If you have ANY idea how to get my cat to stop eating my chairs for lunch, I'd love to hear it.  He's left me enough "mementos."   ;)

Morning Adventures

One of my tactics for staying sane as a WAHM is to have some kind of an outing every day.  Usually, this means heading somewhere in the mid-morning, between a burst of work in the morning and lunch/nap time.  Today, my little guy and I had a special adventure to the Linden Hills neighborhood.  We were drawn by stories of an eclectic children's bookstore that is home to a chicken, a few cats, ferrets, doves, some reptiles, and a rat that lives under a window in the floor.  After we got there, I discovered that a yummy ice cream shop was just around the corner, too!  Despite the drizzle, we walked around the neighborhood, stopping at shops, eating ice cream, and snatching a few free bread samples from a local bakery.  It was a fantastic way to perk up our spirits in the middle of a busy week!  Here are a few pictures from our adventure:

Max thought the chicken pecking around the store was pretty fantastic!

Yes, it is a real chicken.  (!)

The birds were chattering to each other by the rain soaked windows.

These chinchillas were both sleeping with their heads hanging out of their little hut!

These are two of the house cats at the bookstore.  They were far and away Max's favorite animals there!

Who says you can't eat ice cream at 10:30am?  Not me!

YUMMY!

Things to remember

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was exhaustion after a day of lots of back pain, or maybe it was just good 'ole maternal nostalgia...but for whatever reason, I  broke down into tears last night.  Several times.  That hasn't happened in a while, but I have to say that it felt kind of good.  Amidst the chaos of WAHM-dom, I sometimes forget to just take a step back and marvel at this amazing thing of motherhood.  It really is a beautiful thing that sometimes grabs me so hard I can barely breathe.  That was last night.

I was thinking about how fast the past two years have gone.  I am just a few weeks away from welcoming my next baby boy into this world, but it feels like only yesterday that my 22 month old was the one kicking and wiggling inside of me.  Words can't even describe how excited I am to meet this next little boy, but I am also a little bit sad that I won't be able to focus so much of my time just on Max.  If you haven't met him, he's a pretty spectacular kid!  I know that soon I will barely even remember what life was like when we only had one son to clothe and feed and pray with.  I know that I will love this next little boy just as much, and that I will want to squeeze him so tight and never let go, too.  I know that my heart will grow and our family will be even more filled with love when this next baby comes.

But for now, I want to try to lock a place in my brain just for these precious memories of life as a family of three.

I want to remember how Max calls, "Mama!" and runs to me as fast as he can every time I pick him up from the gym.

I want to remember how he sweetly says, "Hi," when he wanders out of bed because he can't sleep.

I want to remember how it feels when his head nestles on my shoulder as we read stories.

I want to remember how he curls himself around my swollen belly when I rock him to sleep.

I want to remember the moments when he lets me rock him to sleep.

I want to remember how he furrows his brow when he's thinking really hard about something.

I want to remember how he scrunches his eyes together when he's trying to learn a new concept (like how "I don't know" means something different than "no no.")

I want to remember how he "scares" me by jumping out and shouting "Boo!"

I want to remember the sweet, sugary sound of his voice when he says, "Bubble?  Bubble?  Bubble?"  (Nearly always sounding like a question on repeat!)

I want to remember how I can gradually feel his skin losing its baby softness and gaining its little boy firmness.

I want to remember how he shouts "Whoa!" every time he goes down a slide or scoots on a scooter.

I want to remember how blue his eyes look first thing in the morning.

I want to remember that sometimes all he needs is a touch from me to feel all better.

I want to remember how he asks to pray before eating a snack, even if it's a cup of pretzels in the car.

I want to remember how his feet seem to fly sideways when he starts running really fast.

I want to remember the way he stands so still if he gets to have his hair cut.

I want to remember how he always wants to know where the cats are and if they are sleeping.

I want to remember how he signs "thank you" if he wants me to give him something.

I want to remember how he excitedly signs "All done!" when the cats open their eyes after he finds them napping peacefully.

I want to remember that some days it was hard to just make it to lunch time, and then to dinner, and then to bed time.  I want to remember that not every day was fun and happy.  (Those hard times make the good times that much sweeter.)

I want to remember that it is okay that I don't have all of these things on video or in photos because I was too busy living in the moment to find a camera.


There are so many things I want to remember, but I know I will forget a lot of them.  And that is okay, too, because I have a lifetime of more memories to come that will be just as sweet and cherished.