Sunday, March 11, 2018

10 Years in the Making

I spent this weekend driving 13+ hours with my eight-month-old to a camp in the middle of nowhere Arkansas where there was no cell service or WiFi. And I LOVED it. Why? Because some of my favorite people gathered there to share life.
Ten years ago, I was a naive college student who made a few good choices and had a lot of providential blessings. One of my good choices/blessings was a spring semester spent just outside Florence, Italy. We lived in a villa, we backpacked across Europe, and our emerging adult-selves formed intangible bonds that continue to this day. And yet...a lot life has been happening in the last ten years. We have been busy living good lives and having other awesome adventures, and some of these women, who I think about frequently, I have not seen since graduating from college. Which is pretty normal and status quo since we are scattered across the country. And then I remembered that we are not normal (in the best possible way), and having face-to-face time with intelligent, beautiful people who love Jesus and the art of story is life-affirming. So we made that happen this weekend, and I soaked it up. There was so much laughter and delicious food (the lasagna! the cinnamon rolls!) But mostly there were people who shared a formative experience ten years ago who lived together once upon a time (in a villa in Italy!) and made the effort to be together again to remember and catch-up and share life. These people are my people, and I love them. And reinforcing some of those intangible connections is worth any amount of car time with a fussy baby. I took zero pictures, and I  am contentedly exhausted, which are proof of a great weekend. Until next year, friends, live life well and continue adventuring. I want to hear all about it soon.

Tuesday, March 6, 2018

Snapshot of a Mom

I studied Henry James’s Portrait of a Lady in undergrad and grad school. This is how I think someone (without the literary merit of James) might capture a momentary image of me today. I don’t have time to sit for a portrait, so a selfie will have to do.
Here’s the preschool-bound mother in her natural habitat: the car. 


Notice the mirror strap attached to her headrest because the back seat is filled with car seats and children who need to look at themselves while being transported. Her flannel shirt covers a T-shirt only minimally stained with spit-up. (She used a wipe to remove most of the mess.) And, yes, she did sleep in that T-shirt last night and merely add the flannel to protect against the slight chill in the air. Give her some credit for applying deodorant. She hasn’t completely lost her sense of social decency. 
She also took a minute to apply mascara, although the rest of her minimal makeup routine didn’t make the cut this particular morning. And who really needs mascara when you have sunglasses to protect from glare and cover the bags under your eyes from yet another sleepless night?
Her ponytail corrals semi-clean hair that was washed somewhat recently, so she feels a certain amount of ok about that situation. Also, her jeans are clean, so she’s basically winning at life.
Not pictured is the cup of coffee and protein bar that compose her breakfast because the children have been fed at the kitchen table, but alas, her mug of coffee almost never gets consumed before ensconcing herself and her offspring in their vehicle.
The coffee is tepid at best, and yet savoring it one sip at a time provides a bastion of peace amidst the traffic and the ticking clock that accompany the twice-weekly drive to preschool. Never mind the fact that she will yet again have coffee breath when delivering her daughter into the capable hands of her teachers. You can’t have it all, and she considers perfect breath an equitable sacrifice for caffeine. 

And there you have it: my pre-child self would have changed her shirt and chewed some gum, but I’m pretty happy with this version of myself. ‘Cause pre-child me has no clue how much she will love the little people who fill up her car’s back seat. And some days I manage to wrangle two kids into the car AND look put-together. So, I pretty much have it all, right? 😉

Saturday, March 3, 2018

To My Son

3 month picture, courtesy of Aunt Marla
Dear baby boy,
I feel like I owe you a letter or two since your big sister has a whole collection from pregnancy and every month of her first year. I could compose a list of reasons why your baby book will be bereft of epistles, but the main one is that I’ve been wrapped up in loving you. My time doesn’t stretch as far these days, between your sister, Daddy, and you. But my love for you defies language. 
You are charming, my son, and joyful. Your smile and laughter light up our days. And I adore cuddling with you. I treasure our time in the glider when you sleepily pat my arm or hold my hand while nursing. And I’ve been soaking you up for eight months now and trying to store up not just memories but the overwhelming emotions behind them. I am savoring your babyhood and storing up treasures in my heart.
For the most part, you’re an easy baby. I wish we could figure out sleeping through the night, but you’re making strides in that direction (at least for this week). You go with the flow and exhibit incredible patience for one so small. We demand more patience of you than we ever did of your big sister at this point, and I guess that’s a classic second child situation. 
Our dynamic is different because you share my attention and arms with your big sister. But you also have an extra person to dote on you. And she does. Big sister loves you fiercely and intensely. And sometimes with excessive force. We try to shield you from her over-abundant squeezes and loud attempts to make you laugh. But most of the time, you seem thrilled to be the focus of her big love.
You like to eat, and you are the most demanding when you think we are denying you a full meal. Right now, most meals consist of three courses because I consistently underestimate how much you can consume. You’re getting good at picking up little foods with your fingers and aiming for your mouth, and you’d prefer if we let you control your spoon. 
You’ve recently started lighting up when Daddy enters a room. It’s precious. And nothing short of being held by him satiates your need for his acknowledgment. We think you call him “Buh” and we’ve heard you say something like sister’s name several times. You only make the “Muh” sound when frustrated or hungry. To be fair, I’m usually easily accessible, so you don’t need to call me when you’re happy.
What else can I tell you to capture just how wonderful you are right now? You love the toy golf clubs and seem to be drawn to the most dangerous (electrical cords) or dirty (trash cans) thing in the room. Your army crawl-roll combination gets you everywhere you need to go, and you started sitting up from your back yesterday! 
You are strong, my little man, and you are sensitive to the moods of people around you. I pray that you will continue to be both of those. The more I see glimpses of your personality, the more I love you.
We will face challenges as you grow, and I will be learning how to parent you specifically and help you thrive. I pray that you will give me grace and that you will grow in wisdom, and stature, and favor with God and man.
You are our very favorite little boy, and I will keep trying to absorb the beautiful moments with you. And maybe once in a while I will try to capture in words how wonderful you are. 

All my love,

Momma

Thursday, March 1, 2018

Losing It

This morning was rough. I lost it at one point. Whatever you consider “it” to be: my cool, all sense of decorum, my sanity, my marbles, any amount of chill. It was lost. 
I basically threw a mini parental temper tantrum. And it was ugly. Kid one started screaming and whining, which set off kid two, and then I latched my finger into the high chair buckle, and that was the last straw. I stomped my feet and indulged in a momentary roar of my own. 
It doesn’t really matter what the first kid was whining about. Suffice it to say, it did not include bodily injury, and thus I did not consider it worth screaming about. It was not her first meltdown of the morning, and her constant screams scare the baby, which results in a house filled with grating noise and a momma stretched thin trying to dispense comfort and discipline and love all while still trying to just  wake up.
I submit to you that if you want to discover the ugliness in your heart and your inadvertent idols, parenting a three-year-old will put you on the fast track. Want to know what your priorities really are? Attempt to get two kids out the door and wait for the chaos to ensue.
I value punctuality. And in the past eight months, I’m not sure if we have been on time once. And when we have an outside glimmer of hope that just maybe we will get out the door on time and arrive at our destination when expected, that hope is inevitably shattered. By a headband emergency or a breakfast catastrophe. Or the umpteen refusals to get dressed.
And I should be used to this. My patience should have been tested and grown to allow for us to be late and for me to still be loving. Alas, the idol of timeliness and looking like I have my life together keeps rearing its ugly head. 
I want so badly to feel in control and appear to others like I am succeeding at parenting two kids. But a lot of the time, I’m just not. I’m not patient enough or rested enough or organized enough to meet every need before we hit meltdown mode. And that is why I need Jesus. Every day, every moment.
Because there will always be more ugliness in my heart. And He will always have more than enough grace to cover my imperfections.

So to all my friends in the trenches of parenthood today, I pray grace and patience over you. Here’s to a second cup of coffee, deep breaths, and relying on Jesus for the rest of today.