trenches and ugly hearts

I yelled at my son tonight.

I'd been fighting the black pit of rage for the better portion of an hour as he screamed, bit, punched, kicked, and generally created havoc around him while letting me know that he was absolutely not going to go to bed peacefully. Then he woke up his sister, asked to nurse for the thousandth time, and got mad when he didn't think he'd accomplished a certain task to his satisfaction.
And that is when I just snapped and screamed from deep down inside, right in his face.
And then his heart broke, and he cried despair, and my heart broke, and I immediately hugged him close and said, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Jameson, I'm so sorry. That was wrong, and I am so sorry."
And I was sorry, and heart-broken, but there was this part of me that was still so angry and full of rage, and it battled with the Jesus-portion of my heart that was screaming for me to see past the noise and the emotion and just love on my poor, confused, exhausted two-year old, because he wasn't doing this to me on purpose.

And once again, I was faced with the reality of just how ugly my heart is.

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I am a mess of emotion lately.

I've had a few trusted people ask me how I am doing, in regards to PPD, and being on the watch for signs of it to arrive, and I've had to step back and say that I'm really not sure if how I'm feeling has to do with the hormones from giving birth or if it's all just the outcome of circumstances for the last year.

I know this past year was a hard one for many, and it seems that our family was no exception. We've faced storms that I never thought we'd see, and have been barraged on all sides by an enemy trying to absolutely destroy us. We've come close to destruction, and despair, and I have spent more nights than I care to remember crying out to the Lord to just spare us. Just once, dear God, spare us this heartache.

And He has answered--in some ways that are satisfying, and others that are not.

So we continue to hold on, and ride through this hurricane, and pray that it ends one day soon.

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My mantra lately has been, "This will not last."

Most of the time, I'm using it to try and remind myself to seize the moment and embrace the sweetness of holding my children tight, or listening to them laugh, or watching them learn and explore. But other times it's simply a chant to make myself hold on, to keep battling through, because this insanity cannot last forever. 

I am deep in the trenches of motherhood, sometimes so deep that it's difficult for me to see the sky. I have minutes where I find such an incredible joy to have the privilege of staying home with my children and serving my family that I am satisfied deep down into my bones. And then the pendulum will swing, and I find myself wondering why I had children, and questioning if perhaps I am one of those women who only *thought* she should be a mother, but really should never have procreated at all.

I love my children so much that my heart often feels like it's going to burst from the emotion of it all, but I would by lying if I didn't admit that there are many hours I spend missing the time when it was just Hubs and I, and dreaming about what I am going to do with all my free time once my children are grown. Humiliating, but true. 

I am still as selfish as ever. 

In short, every day is a battle, and I give you permission to spend too much money at Chick-Fil-A so that your kid can play behind glass while you drink sugary tea and almost relax for the first time in 24 hours.

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just some stuff.

You know, I really thought that once I got this job, my blogging would increase ten-fold since I literally sit at a desk all day. But it's like, I start to think, "Maybe I should write something..." and then I go, "What do I even have to write about? How I ate lunch at 11:30 today instead of noon? How I've had to go to the bathroom every hour since I got here? That one time the coffee mugs were extra gross and I had to wash them all out and not gag?"

You get the picture.
Clearly my job is not the most intellectually stimulating experience. And I'm still struggling with that.
I got to spend time solo with Jameson this weekend and it was so wonderful. Profoundly exhausting, as simultaneously growing a human being inside of you and chasing a toddler (while trying to navigate through those incredibly murky waters of EMOTIONS) can be, but so wonderful. I knew in my bones that this is what I wanted to be doing with my time--taking my kid to Target and wandering the aisles, driving up to the mountains and going on his first "hike" (he's still talking about it. "Mountains, momma and da bwidge!"), grabbing lunch and just hanging out in the sunshine.
But it's Monday, and I'm in the office, in my chair, staring at this screen while Jameson is at Grandma's house, probably banging on the drums and running around outside and scaring the dog.

Contentment and peace.
God's been pushing that on me lately, and I'm trying to come towards it willingly.
Learning to live satisfied in the mediocrity of life, because that's where you spend the majority of your time, and if you can't be happy there, you won't be happy anywhere.
Being at peace with everyone, as long as it is up to you, and especially when it is up to you and the attitudes that you carry around. Rooting out all of the bitterness and jealousy that has been seeping in and rotting like a poison for years until you almost don't even notice it anymore, but it's there and it's still eating away. Bringing every single thought to Heaven, to sort through and examine and then let go.
What a novel idea. Letting go.

But this is it. The mediocre, the middle, the every day.
I did eat lunch at 11:30 today, because I am pregnant and extra hungry.
The coffee mugs were super gross this morning, and I hate that part of my job.
I go to the bathroom like I'm getting paid for it and it's annoying every single time.
There is a baby in my belly that moves so much it makes me wonder if there isn't more than one in there.
My son is so big and rambunctious during the day, and then when he falls asleep at night he somehow regresses back to that sweet baby I knew two years ago and it breaks my heart to walk out the front door every morning.
My life is tinged with sweetness and bitterness, happy and sad, excitement and boredom, and we are here in the middle of it all, just moving along.

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this time around.

Being pregnant with baby #2 is a completely different experience than with baby #1.

I was so excited and anxious the first time around, reading everything I could get my hands on in order to try and understand what was happening inside my body, writing little love letters to that bean in my belly and making sure I was taking care of myself as much as I possibly could.

This time around, bebe was a complete and unexpected surprise and (brutal honesty coming up here) I didn't want to be pregnant again. Jameson has reached new heights of toddlerhood and I am exhausted--so when I found out I was going to have to do all of this over again, while continuing to manage the screaming caveman that runs around our place, I kind of wanted to cry. My nausea has been off the charts this time, lasting all day and making it hard to eat ANYTHING, let alone a healthy paleo diet that consists of lots of eggs and vegetables, two things I can't even look at right now. I am even more tired than I used to be (how is that possible?!) and I am getting fat.

It's been hard, friends. It's been really, really hard. I have struggled with wanting this pregnancy and WANTING to want this pregnancy. I have close friends who would give their left foot to be pregnant right now and I start to wonder why God would bless me with this when I was so not ready or even wanting it yet. I also think that, because I've been struggling with all of this, it's made it even harder to soldier on--because soldiering on wasn't something I had planned on. When we got pregnant with Jameson, I was ready and willing to be hunched over a toilet all day and able to sleep whenever I needed it. I don't really have that luxury this time around--I've got an office job that requires me to be at my desk, not sleeping underneath it or camping out in the bathroom. I've already got an outside kid that needs his mom as soon as she gets home and a husband whose face I barely remember because we only see each other when we lay down to go to sleep at night.

I've been trying to find ways to connect with this bebe, trying to get myself into a place where I was handling all of this a little better and really trying to be excited. I scheduled an ultrasound at nine weeks, hoping that seeing my little baby would help. Instead I found out that I'm two weeks behind and was only about seven weeks along--giving me an extra two weeks of misery before my wanting to throw up on everything goes away (we hope). The light at the end of the tunnel finally came when I went in for my first midwife appointment and she found the heartbeat with the Doppler. It was a moment of clarity--a realization that there is a baby growing inside of me who I will love just as much as Jameson by the time they are born. Another baby that I get to hold and smell and be a momma too, just like I did once before. Another person that came from Hubs and I, and is a tangible example of how I've found someone to love me through anything.

This is starting to make it all worth it. Even though I still hate eggs.

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It's true.

Baby #2 is coming!

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isolation.

Jameson didn't cry when I left the house for work this morning.

I know this is progress.
I'm glad my child wasn't left screaming and banging the door down after I walked out of it.
But at the same time, I had this strange, heart-wrenching moment of realization that he doesn't need me as much as he used to. Cue sadness.

Being a momma is the most contradictory, difficult, and completely illogical thing I have ever, EVER done.

I mean, I am happy that my kid didn't cry when I left this morning, but also kind of broken-hearted about it. How does that even add up or make sense?
Or how about those moments when I am so bone-tired, and Jameson just wants a little bit more of me than I think I can give him and I am overwhelmed with how much I love him, but also how much he drives me crazy.

I think the difficulty lies in making peace with the feelings.

It's easy to feel guilt over feeling 1200 different ways about your children--all at the same time.
It's easy to look at yourself and think, "If I were a better mom, I wouldn't be exasperated right now--I'd just be so thankful that I even have a child, not to mention the fact that he is healthy and smart and has food to eat." and then we dig ourselves into a hole with all of the ways we SHOULD be feeling piled up on top of the guilt for the things that we ARE feeling.

When did motherhood become so cut and dried and black and white?
When did it become easy to look around and see how we are supposed to be and all of the areas that we're failing in, instead of noticing the things we have managed to accomplish--like growing a tiny human INSIDE OF OUR BODIES, and then keeping said human alive and teaching them some semblance of manners, even if they don't always get it?

Motherhood is too hard to do alone, but we isolate ourselves anyway.
That is ridiculous, and it makes me sad.
People need people. We were never meant to be alone.
Period.

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mom-wear-wednesday [8]

coat: Anchor Blue// jeans: Express// cami: Charlotte Russe//
necklace: West One// sandals: Primark

on Jameson:
 pants, vest: Carter's// t-shirt: target// sandals: the Golden Boot

I bet you guys thought I forgot about this week and was going to break my promise (again).

Well, this almost actually happened, due to the fact that the surprise guest above did not feel like going to bed and staying there until 9:14 pm (which happens to be the time that I am currently writing this post).
This, friends, is why it is called mom-wear-wednesday. I should probably tie that whole mom-thing into the blog name too, since I seem to bring it up all the time.

Oh well.

I guess I'm just going to have to take pride in being a "mommy blogger" now, instead of the serious and accomplished writer I used to be.

Anyway, onto the clothes.
Like I said before, I am loving that fall Autumn is here. I feel like I have clothes that are a lot more suited to this season, and I also feel like I pull them off a little better. Summer is about wearing as little as you can get away with and this can result in looks that are not so flattering for those of us with spare stomach skin and stretch marks from carrying children in our bodies.
So when the time comes to cover yourself up with style, I like the challenge.

I love this jacket, even though it's probably five years old.
I bought it when I worked retail before I left for college and it has become one of my favorite fall Autumn jackets. It's got a nice shape, a good neutral color and it's not overly warm. In fact, I haven't taken any pictures for next week yet because I've been wearing this jacket every day and I figure that I should probably come up with something new for you all to see.

Do you like how I have finally made Jameson take pictures with me for this week? Actually, let's try, 'Do you like how Jameson got tired of Dad standing in the doorway taking pictures of Mom and decided to make a break for it while he saw the opportunity?' Because I think that's a little closer to the truth.

Oh well. At least he's cute.
And he's got a nice sense of style. Which fits in well.

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sloooow down.

Friday's post got a lot of responses from people, and I am kind of surprised, but also blessed.

It also made me realize that eventually I should probably tell my story a little bit more, so people don't think I'm just a raving lunatic that puts everything out there for the internet to judge.

Hopefully I can get to that later this week, as long as Jameson is feeling better. I'm coming into this week majorly behind, since he came down with a throat infection on Saturday morning, and has been pretty sad ever since.

Thankfully, he's on antibiotics now (which I am not the biggest fan of, but in this case, they are like manna from heaven) and seems to be perking up a little. So, hopefully I can catch up on life sometime soon.

As always, here are pictures to compensate. :)

swimming for England.

such a boy.

he tries to eat the water that splashes him.

"cake, mom. cake."

"really? you're going to take a picture now, dad?"

"enough. I have business to attend to."

the ogre walk of champions.

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Hubs has said that he wants will allow himself to be featured on this little piece of the internet, so if you've got questions/ideas for him, leave them in the comments and I'll see to it that he gets them. 

Pretty soon we'll have our very first guest post. 

Dang. I'm really on the up-and-up, aren't I?

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what our weekend looked like.

Riding miniature trains (real steam-powered engines that ran on coal!), 

watching the ducks, 

and being a family.

Not bad, England. Not bad.

part of the track.

Hubs and Jameson, taking a spin on their own private train.

Only 30p each!

 

 

 

Riding with Ah-ma and Yeh-Yeh

Oh, hey England. Nice to know you actually do have a blue sky.

 

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my view this morning.

The sunlight streaming through the blinds this morning was so amazing, and I couldn't help myself.

I grabbed my camera and easily took over a hundred pictures.

I know some of these are a little soft, but I don't care.

To me, they're full of the most beautiful things in my life,

and in these moments,

we were happy.

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mother

Every day I look at my son, and I discover new angles and planes to his face that I've never seen before.
He changes bit-by-bit, right before my eyes, so that there is always something new to see if I just give him enough time.

Being a mother is hard.

Lately I keep wondering if I was really cut out for this job, or if I only thought I was (and wanted to be).

Is that possible, though?
Are you meant to be a mother as soon as your child arrives in your arms? Or is it possible to have a child, and yet not possible to be a mother?

(I know I'm treading on shaky ground here. I don't mean that I don't want to be a mother, but rather am I meant to be one. There is a difference.)

I feel sad, and guilty, and very ashamed admitting that motherhood makes me feel completely inadequate. Especially because I really felt like I had a handle on this whole thing--yes, the first five months were tough in the sleep-deprivation, discovering-a-new-person, figuring-out-breastfeeding, etc. sort of ways. But I felt like I was doing it well. I had the routine down, I had the hippie "communicate with your baby" principles, and everyone was pretty happy.

But now? Now I feel like I'm stumbling and tripping through motherhood. It feels awkward, and all I can see are the holes where my inadequacies are staring me in the face. I look around, and it looks like all the other moms with babies my age have finally hit their stride, and I'm sad, because I feel like I've passed mine.
Already?

I just don't feel like I have enough--not enough patience, not enough kindness, not enough knowledge, not enough energy, not enough ______.

Most days, I hit the couch around three p.m. and I look at Jameson and think, "What am I supposed to do with you now?" And there is guilt, for letting my child down, for not being what he needs.

(I hope you know the risk I'm taking here, by telling you this.)

Most days (but not all. Not enough.) I get so much joy out of being a mother.
I love watching him grow and change.
I like going for walks to cafes, and drinking coffee while he learns to eat.
I love making him smile, and hearing him laugh and knowing that it's me he finds so funny.
I love that he's learning how to hug, and he wraps his arms so tight around my neck and burrows his face in the hollow of my throat.
I love that he makes so many noises now, and just stares while I talk, soaking it all in.
I love the swelling in my heart that I get when I look at him, and the awe that he is mine washes over me once more.

But then a bad day comes, and the house of cards comes crashing down, and I've got to build it all up once again. I just think about how I just have to get through that day, get to eight p.m., when I can nurse my son and lay him in his crib, and just sit still for a moment. Then there are a blessed few hours until I have to get up the next morning and do it all over again.

I don't know how to do this, motherhood.

I only know how to love him with an overflowing, ever-present love, and I just hope that it's enough.

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five years, six days.

That title is probably misleading.

Maybe it should be "five years. six days".

Because what I am talking about is the fact that five years ago, my husband asked me out on our first date, and as a result, I am spending my sixth Valentine's day with him.

Not only that, but I get two Valentines now, because I have a son. (Score another one in the "having a boy" category. Sometimes being the only girl has it's perks.)

I woke up to these:

According to Hubs, Jameson picked these out for me.

A dozen red roses from my love.

And these:

Because he knows how much I love Valentine's Day, even though it's "commercial".

Apparently, this took a million years to make, and included an incredible mess.
All while I was spinning my butt off at the gym.
I love my guys.

Then Hubs took me to this restaurant, followed by this:

Then I got to hang out with these guys:

He's like, "Come on, Mom. That's enough now."

I love this. I know Jameson and I are out of focus, but it's my family.
We are happy.

And now I'm here.

Such a blessed woman, am I.
And a happy one, at that.

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flashback friday

A snippet of a post that I started writing, but never finished:

I'm homesick today (but I'm not sure I can even explain what that means).

It's the middle of July, and there are rainclouds in the sky and a cool breeze blowing through the trees, and I just sit and think, "Where is summer?"

My son is sleeping in his swing right across from me, and the thoughts that tackle me when I look at him are overwhelming. The future seems so uncertain, especially with this new little guy, and I just feel like I am treading on unstable ground. Every day is different, down to how much sleep I get and how I feel physically. This is the biggest life change I've ever experienced, and I think I'm still in shock from it all.

I worry so much more now. I worry about his breathing, and his crying, and the little spots on his face, and the faces he makes, and all of the 'what-ifs' that hit me when we walk out the front door.

If I let it, this anxiety could consume me.
I'm sure I could attribute this to all of the hormones making their way out of my body right now, but I also know that this is probably just going to be the battle I fight for the rest of my life.
I'm a momma now, and suddenly, my heart is encapsulated in this little person, which means that I will always worry.

Six months later, and I am happy to report that the anxiety has gotten easier to manage, but is still around.


Looking back at this, I feel like I've gotten some sort of a handle on motherhood, even if it's just that I know my son now, and so am more familiar with what is normal (and what is not). I think the pendulum has swung the other way, and now I'm working on finding a balance between being a mom, and a wife, and still being myself and doing the things that feed my soul.


Any tips are greatly appreciated.

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where are the words?

Jameson has been sick for the past few days, so I'm starting to get a little stir-crazy over here.

We took him to the doctor yesterday (which required waking up bright and early to make sure that we were one of the first in line, so that we didn't have to sit in the waiting room with a sick infant for two hours...), and she told us that it's probably some sort of virus and the best thing to do is to just wait it out and let his immune system take care of it.

Which is beneficial in the long run, I know, but it's so sad to live through. The good news is that it hasn't really seemed to phase him (other than the snot everywhere and the coughing), and he's just as happy as ever. For the most part. The problem is that we got about four inches of snow the other day, and I'm not sure I'm up to wrestling the stroller through the sludge with a sick baby in order to escape the house for a few hours.

Although, check back with me in a few days, if he doesn't start to get better soon.

Anyway...this is pretty much just a lot of nothing. I guess I'm lacking in inspiration tonight, which I'm working on letting myself be okay with. I think I need to start remembering the discipline behind the talent, which means consistently practicing the talent, even when I don't feel inspired.

You lucky few just happen to be on the receiving end of the nonsense.

As a sidenote, thank you for the encouragement about the whole "pursue your dreams" thing. It gave me a lot to think about, and it's all still percolating right now...I think my biggest dilemma is finding the time and energy to essentially start my own business/brand/image while also fulfilling my responsibilities as a wife and momma.
And staying sane. Because that's equally as important.

Drink tea, and stay warm.

-C

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the return.

Ah, England. We meet again.

We've been "home" for almost a week now, and I am happy to report that we are pretty much settled back in and the jetlag is nearly out of our system. There are a million and one things that I need to work/think/pray through after our trip to America, and I am sure that they'll come out on here in time.

We had an amazing visit with so many amazing people, and I am just now processing how blessed I am, and how much support I have, even when I feel like I am in a very lonely place. It's interesting to see how God has given me the most incredible friends and family, and how I have not been able to find anyone similar in any of the places I've been. Seriously, I have been given the cream of the crop, and I am so happy about it.

Jameson was such a trooper during the whole trip--even the 10 hour plane rides where he had an ear infection and a cold. He was a rockstar baby, and people were constantly telling us, "Your baby is so well-behaved, and he is SO beautiful!" We would just smile and say thank you, but inside I was going, "I know, right? I got the best one."

He loved, loved, loved meeting his family in America, including 7 new grandparents (that's right folks, 7. We churn 'em out young in my family. Haha) including his great-great-grandma and 2 new aunts.

He also got to meet his godparents (outside of the womb), and the church family that has been loving on him and praying for him since he was the size of a poppyseed inside of my belly.

We had a dedication ceremony at church that was perfect, and exactly what Hubs and I wanted.

We got to celebrate my 23rd birthday at Spaghetti Factory, where I gorged myself on gluten-free pasta and wine, and laughed hysterically with my family.

Christmas was wonderful, and Jameson was spoiled beyond belief. We literally had to bring an extra suitcase back with us, that's how much stuff we picked up.

I put on at least five pounds from gorging myself with Mexican food, In-N-Out, Chick-fil-a, Starbucks, Panda Express, and so many others that when I think about them I just get hungry.

It was wonderful, and the perfect five weeks, and we didn't take nearly enough pictures (but I'll try to start taking more since I got a CAMERA PURSE for Christmas from my amazing husband!!!).

I am sad to be back here, but I am also glad to be in my own space, working towards a new goal of going home to the States for good. For now, I am trying to soak up the time I have here, because I know that there will be things I'll miss when I leave.

Hopefully, more regular posting will start to occur, thanks the the new schedule that I have us on. We'll see how it goes.

Love, love.

C

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so this is the new year.

2012.

I can't believe that it's here.

2011 has been a year of so many ups and downs, so many incredible things happened (including the birth of my son), for the good and the bad.

To be honest, I haven't spent much time reflecting on it all, simply because I am trying to soak up as much time with my family as I possibly can. We've been in Utah for nearly 3 & 1/2 weeks now, and are leaving on Wednesday, and...I really just want to be here.

Now. 

Laughing with my sisters, 

and drinking (decaf) coffee with my parents, 

and watching my son get to know the American side of his family.

There will be posts with pictures to come (although, I've done a bad job of taking them. Again, I've just tried to be here with everyone, and not spend all my time behind a camera), and I'm sure the reflection will begin.

For now, I've decided that this year is going to be about taking better care of myself, so that I can take better care of my family. This includes all aspects: physical, emotional, and spiritual. 

I want to be a better woman for the Lord, a better wife, and a better mom.

So, 2012, here's to you. Let's see if we can't live it up, right?

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five months.

Jameson baby is five months old today.

Unbelievable.

Next month, he will be half of a year. *cue weepy mom moment*

He is growing up way too fast.

This past week, he learned how to blow raspberries (along with the giant string of drool that comes out with them). Now, when he's really happy and he likes you, you'll get a raspberry (and a spray of baby spit) in the face.

He can roll over, from back to front, and he is lightning fast. Seriously, about a second after you lay him down on his back, he's already kicking himself over so that he can be on his tummy. However, he's still not a fan on this position, and cries for you to come get him if you leave him there too long.

He smiles a bit more now, mostly when he's tired, but also when he thinks you're funny. His little laugh is so cute, and there is no one that can make him giggle more than his Papa.

The teething monster showed up almost a month and a half ago now, and we have yet to see any progress. I swear I can feel a sharp ridge on his bottom gums, but I still can't see anything. Ugh. Poor monster baby. The teething necklace is still definitely helping, but we've also resorted to teething granules a bit more frequently since his pain seems to be getting worse. I wish his teeth would just show up!

He still loves the boob milk, and I'm happy to keep it that way for now. We're going to start baby-led weaning around six months (as long as he's ready), and I'm excited for him to try new things. So far he's sucked on bits of honeydew, apple, and orange, and has made faces at all three. We're going with the "Food for fun until one" adage, and I'm planning on nursing him until he's a year old, but hopefully for a while longer.

We love cloth-diapering (there's a post coming on that soon) and Hubs is officially an advocate for it. There is just something about washing diapers and hanging them up to dry that speaks to my momma-hood. I'm not even sure I can explain it. It just feels right.

But really, the most exciting thing is that we leave for the States in FIVE days, and I can't wait! Although I'm not looking forward to the eight-hour plane ride (which is only one of many, many plane rides we will be taking), I'm at the point now where I don't even care. It's been over a year since I've been home, and I can't wait for everyone to meet the new man in my life.

And finally, here are some pictures. Because what blog post about my baby would be complete without the pictures?

He was "The Last Airbender" for Halloween.
Perfect, I know.

The concentration (and drool) is overwhelming.

Oh mom. You're so embarrassing.

My beautiful, beautiful baby.

The artsy shot.

Hey guys? Guys? Can you come get me now?

Love.

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