Magic

Life Lessons from a Two Year-old, Motherhood, Uncategorized

Three Christmas seasons ago, while I was pregnant with Hank, one of my fellow teachers gave me a Christmas card that I will never forget. Inside it she had written: Your holidays are about to get sooooooooo much better!

I didn’t get it at the time, but boy, I sure get it now. This Christmas has been infinitely more special, already; thanks to the excited little two-and-a-half-year-old who started his Christmas countdown at Halloween. (He made one adorable little “Ho-Ho,” minus the white beard!)

Don’t get me wrong–I have always loved Christmas, but I have never loved its tendency to overwhelm me each year. No matter how prepared I am. There’s such high expectations, and only so many days to get it all done!

Then there’s the whole “meaning.” We debate so much about what Christmas is all about; whether it’s the birth of Jesus or the giving of gifts or the spreading of holiday cheer. The battle of “Presence” vs. Presents. The scramble to do all the things for all the people you love, that you can’t seem to find time/energy/motivation to do throughout the rest of the year. Is this really the only time of year we can take the time to send out a written greeting to our friends or take a family photo? To make a batch of cookies and take some to a friend? Or bring chocolates to your best customers? It’s usually the only time I do any of those things! And then there’s the unavoidable holiday stress; the long list of to-do’s and check-offs and projects and wish-lists. It is so easy to get wrapped up in it all! (Pun intended)  🙂

However. The wise prediction in that dear teacher’s card was spot-on. The Christmas blues tried to get me down this year, but luckily, my little boy’s spirit wouldn’t let them. Not this year! Not with this precious toddler, filled from his blonde ringlets right down to his chubby little toes with anticipation and excited energy. Filled with absolute magic.

Santa hasn’t even gotten here yet, and already this has been my most meaningful Christmas, by far. Now that I have truly seen Christmas through the eyes of my child–through those innocent blue eyes that don’t see to-do lists or piles of unfinished wrapping–I have also seen the magic.

Because ALL he sees is the magic.

After tucking him in last night, I stayed a while in his cozy dark nursery, watching the light from glittery snow flickering on the walls as it spun in the special snow-globe his daddy bought him a few weeks ago. And as I sat there, I saw the Christmas magic. But the magic wasn’t the Santa in the snow globe, or the glittery snow floating around him in the current.

The magic was the curly blond head peeking out of the blanket in the crib just below it, peacefully dreaming about “Ho-Ho.”

(And likely, the “big huge excavator” that he’s hoping Ho-Ho will bring down our chimney soon.)

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(And popsicles. Not a night goes by where this boy doesn’t dream about popsicles.)

Two-year-old Talk

Life Lessons from a Two Year-old, Motherhood, Uncategorized

As a life-long lover of language, one of my very favorite parts of motherhood is watching our little man figure out how to communicate. We have been compiling a list for the last two months or so, of our favorites from his own funny little vocabulary.

I never want to forget these adorable Hank words, because I know he will replace them with the “right” ones before we know it! (If only I could freeze time–I would–right now.)

Hum-mum: Grandma

Pop-pop: Grandpa

BIG Dede: Grandma Dede

BIG Pop-pop: Grandpa Gil

Boo-boosh: brothers

KK: Kaden

Hiyah: Brecken

Cam: Camden

Dig-Dig: Excavator or skid-steer

Beep-Beep: Dump truck

Co-Co: Roscoe (or any dog)

Yesh: yes

No Please: No, thank you

Woop: soup

Hub-bub: sandbox

Bawk-a-Bawk: popsicle

Hullo: yellow

Tep: step

Tiny home: camper

Chee-chos: Cheerios

Num-num: any food, or also any meal

Niiiigh-sch: Nice

Tuck: stuck

BIG bath: lake or pool

Boap: boat

Bee: Bear

Co-Co Bee: a stuffed dog

Wump: jump

Big up: high

HoHo: Santa Claus

And his favorite request, currently:

“Hum-mum’s house, eat, NOW, pwease?!”

***

Hank is our dinner bell–

“Num-num time, boo-boosh!!”

Our entertainment–

“Watch Hank!”

Our compassionate little helper when mommy is sick–

“Is ok, mommy!”

And our reminder that even the littlest ones with the fewest words want to be part of the conversation–

“Talk Hank, too.”

May we never forget to listen to his tiny words; they carry such great meaning!

***

I couldn’t be more blessed with this beautiful child, and each new day with him is a gift. Watching his world get a little bigger every day is my truest joy!

Joy is also a little boy and a big pile of leaves!

There’s Always Time for Apple Pie

Life Lessons from a Two Year-old, Motherhood, Uncategorized, Yummyness
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The ugliest, most perfect pie ever

There’s Always Time for Apple Pie

***

I love to bake. Like really, really love to bake.

I’ve made stunning 4-tier wedding cakes, perfectly iced in homemade buttercream; cakes which took days to bake, ice, assemble and decorate.

It was nothing for me to crank out 4 loaves of bread from scratch on any old Saturday morning, or whip up a few dozen cinnamon twists to send to work with my hubs for his crew.

I LIVED for brioche, trying every recipe I could find until I finally made the perfect, airy loaf. (I’m pretty sure this is the exact brioche Marie Antoinette was talking about.)

I used to be one hell of a baker.

Until I had a baby, that is.

These days, I feel good when I get a box cake made on time for a birthday in our household, and even better if I actually remember the candles!

So when my sister stopped by with a dozen gorgeous red apples, fresh off their tree a few days ago, I was inspired. I just HAD to bake something. Something GOOD.

“Hank!” I said. “Let’s bake a pie!”

Now, friends, this is NOT what a perfect apple pie is supposed to look like. Not even close.

What it does look like, is exactly what it is: a pie a toddler baked.

Old Me would never have stood for it. Old Me would have thrown out the torn-up, over-worked pastry that sat in our fridge two days longer than it should have, and made fresh. She would have rolled it and lined that pie plate smoothly and evenly, then pinched perfectly-even flutes all around the edges to seal the top.

Today though, for the first time ever, I had a helper. And Hank wanted to do it ALL. He wanted to roll the crust out with the big huge rolling pin. And mix the ingredients. And peel the apples with that fun old crank peeler his great-grandma gave us. He wanted to do all of it.

All. By. Himself.

So, you know what I did?

I let him!

I’m NOT that perfect baker I used to be–I just can’t be. I’m way too busy being mom. (And that’s even better.)

When that sweet two-year-old woke up early from his nap today, we spent that extra hour making the ugliest apple pie I have ever made.

It may be the ugliest pie I’ve made, but it is the pie I’m proudest of.

(And it tasted far sweeter than any of the pretty ones ever did.)

***

NO.

Hank Humor, Life Lessons from a One-Year-Old, Motherhood

Today, we crossed over.

Not the lovely kind of “let’s cross over,” though, Liz Gilbert-style. There was no “attraversiamo” here, no “let’s.” I had no say in the matter.

No–the crossing over I experienced today landed me right smack dab in uncharted territory. And it has definitely not been lovely.

Today, my two-year-old-in-one-week cherub and I took a parenting turn for the worse.

We boldly entered the Land of NO.

And so farit is terrifying.

Terrifying–because today; in one crazy, irrational display of toddler manipulation, that adorable little cherub figured out that he doesn’t HAVE to do what mama says.

He figured out that he can, in fact, do the exact opposite if he wants to. And all he has to do is say NO.

But here’s what really gets me. He could already say no! And it was so cute–those first few weeks–whenever he used his new word!

Me: Do you want some more strawberries, Hank? 

Hank: (in precious singsong) Umm, no-oh! 

Me: (still in new-parent la-la-land) Awwwww! Isn’t that cute? He said “No!” He is so SMART! Another real WORD! And look how he makes his mouth into that round little “o” shape! Goodness, that’s just adorable!

What happened to THAT no? How did we morph from darling baby no to demon-child banshee-screaming NO!?

Overnight.

Whatever it was, it flipped like a switch in that smart little brain this morning. On the stairs. In “time-out.” (Another relatively new concept.)

It went like this:

Me: Hank, please. Mama needs to go to work, so I need you to be a good boy and let me change your diaper so we can get you dressed.

Hank: NO!

Me: You don’t tell mama NO. We are changing your pants whether you want to or not!

Hank: *rolls eyes*

Me: Don’t you roll your eyes at mama!

Hank: *scrunches both eyes shut. Juts chin out defiantly *

Me: (inner monologue) God, help me. I am clearly not qualified to raise this child. 

Hank: *eyes still closed*

 

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Mischief. Personified.

 

The rest of our day brought more refusals, more time-outs, more counting-down-from-fives and a lot more NO. The demon-child version. I have never heard so much unexplained screaming. I have never done so much daytime praying. Or counting to ten. Or taking deep breaths.

All I could think about, all day, was how right all those people were about the “Terrible Twos.” Apparently, we have entered them. Exactly one week early.

I get it, now–all those toddler tantrum jokes and memes. I get the meltdown over not getting “the blue cup.” We had one today because Hank wanted the BLUE paci.

(But not THAT blue paci.)

I see why cutting the sandwich bread the wrong way can cause a full-on come-apart. Hank came-apart over mandarin oranges because the sections had already, (thanks to mommy) come apart.

(Which HE had wanted to do. Himself.)

Drew Barrymore’s picture of her daughter, sprawled across the Disneyland concrete, in full-on kid-fit, makes so much more sense to me now. Because now, I have seen my own child, spread eagle on the kitchen floor, kicking and screaming, for who-knows-why, exactly.

I tried to channel Drew’s cool, collected calm all day while my toddler’s world crashed down all around us. But it is harder than I thought.

Just ignore it.

Just forge ahead, go on with your day.

He will eventually get over it.

OK–but WHEN?

How on earth, a small, hardly-speaking toddler can out-wit and out-stubborn a grown adult with a Masters in Education is beyond me. (And more than a little embarrassing.)

Today–in all of its glory–left me wishing for my baby back. The baby who didn’t argue; the one who laid there, cooing and smiling as I changed his diapers, whenever I damn well pleased.

The baby who weighed nine manageable pounds, not the thirty-plus of rough-and-tumble I can hardly hold onto, kicking and bucking on the carpet, dirty diaper dangling perilously by one tab.

The baby who never told me NO.

I would do anything to swap him out, for one of those again. Maybe just for a few days, just until I can figure out how to handle this new, scary world we just landed in. I would gladly rock the baby keeping some new tired mama up around the clock. That–I was great at. Those days, I knew what I was doing. Because whatever I did, always seemed to work.

Today–nothing seemed to work–except my smart little boy’s brain as it filed away notes on how to outsmart his mama.

I don’t know if I am cut out for this. I need an emergency crash course in Toddler.

STAT.

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Smile, Hank! (Now doesn’t that just look like the face of an angel?)

Crow’s Feet, Mom Underwear and Moments in the Middle

Life Lessons from a One-Year-Old, Motherhood

I never saw the wrinkles coming until they were just suddenly there. I was admiring a cute picture of Hank that I had snapped of me holding him a few months ago, and once I stopped looking at his adorable mug and glanced up at myself, I freaked! I couldn’t believe that was MY face. . .with this sudden influx of crow’s feet?? 

When did I suddenly age ten years overnight? (Maybe in those two years when I hardly got any sleep at all?) Hmmm–maybe. But my goodness, those wrinkles sure carved themselves in deep! 

(Not crow’s feet, laugh lines. That at least SOUNDS nicer)

After the long hot shower I finally got in at 10:00 p.m. last night, I had yet another realization about my changed life. What the heck happened to my underwear drawer in the last two years? Who snuck in and traded all my fun frilly cuteness for granny panties?

I certainly never dumped out all those adorably-patterned VS under-roosies that used to fill up that drawer, and traded them in for mom underwear. If I had known that was coming, I may have reconsidered the whole idea of motherhood!! Somehow, they must have just slowly replaced themselves while my conscious wasn’t paying attention, one Target 3-pack of stretchy Hanes at a time. 

Who are you and how did you get in my underwear drawer?

I don’t think I have ever fully realized just how “adult” I am these days. How adult I HAVE to be, that is! It is still sinking in–almost two years later–that I am someone’s mother now. 

All of these changes are a whole lot like trying to keep the house clean. You don’t necessarily see it getting dirty, you just notice it once it IS dirty. Once it’s already too late to prevent it. 

I just packed up baby clothes that no longer fit my baby because he is no longer a baby. He’s suddenly a little “big kid” now. Who just sported his first pair of pull-ups, because he just started using his big-boy potty. Boy, did that ever help it sink in that he isn’t my little baby anymore. (But wasn’t he, just yesterday?)

Pottytraining. And that big-kid baseball cap that just this month became permanently attached to his little blonde head. Just like his bro-bros.

Again–all good changes. All blessings. (Well, maybe except for the wrinkles and the mom undies–I’m going to have to learn to live with those.) But I need to learn how to live with all my changes, whether I like them or not. The only constant in my life these days is change. Isn’t that true for all of us? 

My main problem is, I somehow need to figure out how to absorb all that time, all those moments, all the little bits that come in the middle between one stage and the next. Because I don’t want to only remember the milestones. The big moments. I want to remember all of it.

(Because after all–it is all of these beautiful little moments that have earned me such impressive laugh lines. 🙂 )

Another amazing moment somewhere in the middle 😉

The Daily Crazy with Hank–In Pictures

Hank Humor, Motherhood

See those knee-highs scattered all over my closet floor? (You have to look hard–they blend in pretty well!) When I walked in to get dressed after my shower this morning, Hank pointed at them proudly and announced, “Poop.”

“Poop?” I asked him. To which he clarified, “Yeah! Co-co poop.”

Ahhhh, Roscoe poop. My knee-highs, once they were pulled out of the box and scattered around by my toddler, look like dog poops. Gotcha.

(And yes, that is a carabiner in Hank’s mouth.  No, I am not sure why there is a carabiner in my closet.)

I call this one: Still Life with Horse, Chocolate Egg, Dump Truck and Diapers

Clearly, we have a digger-obsessed little boy. They ALL have to join him for breakfast, or he will not eat breakfast. So to this, I say: Ok, fine. Line ’em up, digger man.

All the way home from work today, Hank entertained himself (and me) by balancing his goldfish snack cup on his head, then making it fall off. Over and over. (Don’t worry–I took this picture at a red light.)

Hank really REALLY wants to be a baseball player like his big bros. He could not be happier about Little League starting up again!

And what better way is there to end a crazy day than with a lovely bubble bath (with your favorite excavator)?

Tomorrow, we get to do it all over again, and I am sure by the end of it I will have even more pictures that need explanations.

**Good night all, from one crazy toddler and his Tired Mama!**

My Parenting Style? It’s Not What You Might Think

Hank Humor, Life Lessons from a One-Year-Old, Motherhood

Two words have been bouncing around in my brain a lot over the past year, as my barely-walking 1 year-old baby rounded the corner on toddlerhood and headed towards that looming milestone of horror–the Terrible Twos.

The two words I am referring to are: Parenting Style. While taking Advanced Human Development, I studied the three main types, so I thought I had it all figured out. I was prepared to be an effective parent someday. It was as simple as this:

Be too strict: you’re authoritarian and they’ll resent you. Be too lax: you’re permissive, and they’ll run all over you. Be perfectly balanced–authoritative–and your kids will turn out respectful and responsible. How hard can it be to achieve a balance of being both demanding and responsive? Not that hard, right?

It can’t be! 

I mean–we don’t want to raise complete hooligans, but we don’t necessarily want silent little soldiers, either!

Seriously, how hard can this be?

Well. . . I’ll tell you. Here I sit, a month away from the TERRIBLE TWOS where all hell promises to break loose, and I am pondering just how well my “Parenting Style” is actually fitting in with the above logic. Am I doing a great job of being the perfect Authoritative Parent?

Honest to goodness–I couldn’t even tell you. While I shoot for authoritative, I like to call my current parenting style “A Wing and a Prayer.”

Here’s why!

Parenting, it turns out, is WAY HARDER than I thought it would be when that little plus sign miraculously appeared on the pregnancy test.

I have found, that as hard as you try to do all the mom things just so and devote enough time to all the age-appropriate brain-stimulating activities, life happens. Things get real. Houses get dirty. You still have to figure out how to pay all your (steadily increasing) bills.

And then; just when you think you have finally gotten a handle on the whole baby thing, they turn into toddlers. (I’m convinced toddler must translate into tornado in some language, somewhere!)

All the things I promised myself I’d do or not do, suddenly went out the window. To avoid complete insanity, I evolved into practicing a new Parenting Style centered around one premise: what works. (Hence the wing and DEFINITELY the prayer.)

Here is what that looks like in my house on any given day.

“Ok, so let me get this straight–you absolutely must wear your glow-in-the-dark pajama shirt all day today instead of getting fully dressed?”

“The only way you will let mom take a shower is if you get to watch Bob the Builder on the iPad?”

“You suddenly hate everything I just cut up for you for lunch–which I should point out, are all things you loved yesterday?”

And–“You WILL NOT go to bed unless ALL your diggers are IN your crib with you?”

Sigh.

*Admit defeat.*

Well, ok then! 

This is why my new Parenting Style is such a beautiful panacea for stressful parenting! I finally figured out that while it may feel like it, these are not mom fails. 

These are simply tornado survival tactics.

Did we still get out the door, fully clothed (in something) and get to grandma’s in time for me to get to work? Check.

Did mama get a shower without a screaming fit? Check. (And he’s learning technology skills, right?)

Did he still eat a healthy lunch? (Even if today’s first lunch all got packed back into tuppers for another attempt at dinner?) Check.

Did he still sleep through the night, (even though he may have rolled over onto a hard plastic toy a few times)? Check.

These days, I consider even a fair amount of cooperation from the little tornado a huge success. I may not be hitting the qualifications for perfect Authoritative Parenting, but you know what? That’s OK. I don’t have a perfectly-behaved soldier, but I also don’t have a complete hooligan. What I do have is a little boy who knows he is loved, loves us back, listens to us (most of the time) and most importantly–gets to love being a kid.

I call that a huge win!

Of course you can walk through the mud puddle, little boy

If you happen to be one of the elite Authoritative Wonder Parents out there, perfectly balancing your demanding with your responsive, I applaud you, and I envy you. (Can you let us in on how you do it?)
And to the rest of you out there, parenting littles the best you can. . .maybe even identifying somewhat with my ‘Wing and a Prayer’ Parenting Style–cheers to us! We may have a little lower bar, but you know what I call it? 

REALISTIC. I say survive first–tune up later. 

We’ve got this!

(I will pray for you if you pray for me!)

Monkey child

Coming out of Hibernation

Life Lessons from a One-Year-Old, Motherhood

“Let light shine out of darkness”  2 Corinthians 4:6

I cannot find words to express how grateful I am that today is the first day of spring.

It was a looooooong winter!

Between huge snowstorms and subzero temps and keeping the home fire burning (literally) and staying on top of work and motherhood and kid activities and an awful lot of work-widow “single-parent” nights while the hubs traveled here and there. . . .it was a long winter.

This past week the temperature hit the 70s, the snow melted, and–FINALLY! I had the urge to blog for the first time in months. What was stopping me before? Exhaustion? Chaos? Yes. Both.

A good friend gave me an even more perfect explanation for my seasonal writer’s block though: my inspiration was hibernating. 

She was right! It was!

I didn’t have a single extra brain cell available with which to create or express or ponder or record or even just report the goings on of my crazy life the last few months. Because it was just that–crazy. 

I am still trying–my New Year’s intention–to be content in every day. Contentment in chaos is difficult, it turns out! So is calm, so is peace, and so is presence. I seemed to subconsciously realize around mid-January that if I had 10 spare minutes of energy, it needed to be focused on my family. So my writing and my new-found glass obsession both simply did what they had to do to survive–they went into hibernation. 

The other change that has helped me survive the long winter? My social media presence. I am online about 1/100th of the time that I was in 2016, and you know what? I could not feel better about that choice! The old me couldn’t walk down the stairs without scrolling my newsfeed. And now I can go days without a single peek at the book of faces. The connections are great, but what drained me was the time, and more recently, the negativity. I realized the very limited time that I have right now is too precious to waste reading bullshit political articles, or watching as 25 different people/pages all share the exact same news clip with different reactions. 

I simply don’t have time right now to worry about page views or likes or shares. 

I need that time to worry about hugs and mealtimes and snack times and nap times and tuck-ins and washing those favorite digger jammies so he can wear them again.

I also need that time for listening and supporting and laughing with and loving and enjoying my best friend (the hubs!) when he is home. Because all the days when he’s gone, my whole world just feels like winter.

I need to spend my moments watching these four brothers play ball and laugh and teach and practice and tackle and race and wrestle. Because every time they go away and come back again, Hank’s bigger. They’re all bigger.

God usually has a funny way of getting messages to me, but I always get them, loud and clear. This week I got the message that I am doing the right thing; by focusing more on what matters most, and letting everything else fall by the wayside. Loud and clear.

Coming out of his daily (mini) hibernation

I had just grabbed Hank after a perfect two hour nap, and I was feeling guilty that I had fallen asleep as well, rather than being “productive.” With 30 pounds of groggy toddler in one arm; I stacked his sippy cup of milk, his snack, a water bottle, and my phone all up on my Chromebook with the other; then headed down the stairs in a balancing act of multi-tasking greatness. 

Except that it wasn’t.

Somehow as we got off balance, I knew I had overestimated my capabilities. I managed to slide most of the items onto the banister as I squeezed Hank to my hip, but I watched in slow motion as the sippy cup full of milk went rogue and bounced end over end down the entire length of the staircase. Spraying milk in grand arcs all along the (carpeted!) stairs and the beautiful dark stain of the wood banister. 

LOTS of milk. 

I turned to Hank, who was equally enthralled by the display, (it looked just like those park fountains that spray the water up in the air in pretty patterns) and all we could do was laugh. He then offered up an adorable “Uh-oh!”and shrugged his little shoulders.

I held him closer to me and stood there for a few seconds, taking it all in. I had just summed up my life (as of late, anyways) in one milky disaster. 

I have been trying to do too much at once. And it just got messy.

I got the message.

I have to hold what is most important to me, closest to me, and let all the rest fall away. (Even if some of it does get messy at times!)

This springtime is the only springtime I will ever have with an almost two-year-old, who discovers something new every single day. 

A boy, a ball, and a bucket


I don’t want to waste these days, these hours, or these minutes. 

Any precious moment I am not working, this beautiful time of year; I will be spending with Hank. I will also savor the times when I get the privilege of enjoying his amazing daddy and his incredible brothers, too.

I have to find my peace in the chaos by leaving my phone in the house, while we play ball out on the lawn. 

I can catch up on the news some other day. . . .or not at all.

I can blog once a month, instead of weekly, and that will have to be good enough for me.

I know I will still write my books, make my mosaic masterpieces–another day, when I have more time. More energy. Less laundry.

(Maybe when he goes off to preschool?)

Until then, and until next time, happy spring!

*Make time for you and yours, and make sure to enjoy those little moments!*

THIS Is The Day The Lord Has Made

Faith, Motherhood, We Are In This Together

Content. 

My mantra for 2017 is just one word: content

Not present, not grateful–I try to practice those two already, every day.

No–this year the intention I realized I need to focus on most is contentment. Why? Because life is short, God’s blessings abound, and it is up to us to receive them gracefully in order to truly appreciate those gifts. 

The season of motherhood I am in right now is tough. It is winter. We are struggling with new sleep issues. I am about to lose my very helpful husband to a whole lot more travel, after a glorious holiday month with him home, and I am already anxious. I have taxes and year-end and empty spaces to get leased all looming ahead these next few months as well, and I find myself stressing over my to-do list.

But my family, my amazing supportive family, loves me right through all of that. My husband helps however he can, whenever he can, and the days when he IS in town seem all the more precious. My sweet baby boy is darling and healthy, whether he sleeps through the night and naps perfectly or not. And his big brothers light up all of our worlds when they are with us!

I am making the choice to shine with God’s grace even on days when I tend more toward anxiety than peace. 

THIS is the day the Lord has made. It is our choice to rejoice, and be glad in it. 

THIS DAY. Today. I learned from some great losses this year–painfully–that I may not have a tomorrow. I cannot squander away my today in worry or in stress or in anxiety or in regret or in if-only’s. None of us can.

I am choosing instead to celebrate small victories, like a toddler feeding himself an entire bowl of noodle-o’s with his spoon, All-By-Himself for the very first time; even though his night was rough and his nap nonexistent. 

I choose a clean-enough house.

I choose to still sport last year’s maternity wardrobe, because it is so ridiculously comfortable, (and paid for!). 

I choose to not beat myself up for going to bed at 9, or for missing my precious hour of writing or reading or whatever crazy inspiration I’m feeling that particular week because I am Just. Too. Tired.

I choose to be ok with seeing my friends less than I’d like to, because it is all I can fit into our crazy life right now.

I choose to enjoy my husband more while he’s home, and hold no grudge when he must be away.

I choose to be content. In everything. And oh, what a lovely privilege it is, to have that choice to make.

Cheers to 2017, my dear family, friends, and readers! And may you find contentment in your own beautiful lives this year as well!

“To the Moms Who Take Too Many Pictures: Keep it Up” on Her View From Home

Motherhood, We Are In This Together

Are you a member of the “mamarazzi” like I am? Do you take WAAAAY too many pictures of your kids? 

Yes?? GOOD!!! 

Cheers to you and your camera! I’m celebrating all of us camera-crazed mamas on my latest on Her View From Home! Check it out here:

To the Moms Who Take Too Many Pictures: Keep It Up