lost and found

I feel like I spend an abnormal amount of time writing and talking and thinking about motherhood, but I guess that makes sense considering I am swallowed up in it literally 24 hours a day.

With the addition of a second child, I am finding more and more that I feel like I've completely lost any sense of who I am outside of changing diapers, sweeping crumbs, and trying to come up with creative activities that don't involve any sort of screen or animated character. I forget that I was once a person with autonomy, someone that had talents outside of being able to carry a screaming toddler, carseat with infant inside, AND diaper bag all at once. I used to write, and read books, and have friends, and stay up late talking with my husband just because we could.

Now, I write about my kids, I read about things I need to do so I am better for my kids, I have friends with kids, and I stay up late talking with my husband because it's the only time of day we see each other without being climbed on, puked on, or cried at (unless its me, crying at him).

I'm trying desperately to regain some of myself, but in doing so, I'm realizing just how much of myself has changed. I look back on that twenty-one year old that flitted around Chicago and I cannot help but wonder at how self-absorbed and so incredibly naive I was. Obviously some of that is normal, since you only change and grow by going through life-altering events, but it also makes me feel like I'm on shaky ground, because I don't know just how much of that silly girl to reclaim. My children are my life, my job--being a mother is what I want to do, and who I want to be. But it's not everything. It can't be everything, because if I lose myself in that, I put the burden of my identity on my kids, and that's something that they should never carry or be responsible for.

So for now, I'll sit here and try to scrape the rust off my fingers, and pick up a book that has nothing to do with parenting in any sense and I'll try to remember that I am capable of creating things outside of human life (even though they have been my best work yet).

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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.

-----------------

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.

-------------------

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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dear Evelyn

November 19, 2013

Dear Evie Darling, 

Thirteen days. That's how long you've kept the whole world waiting to meet you so far. It's not that I can blame you, however, as the weather is turning cold and the leaves are falling off the trees and sometimes this world can seem like a big, terrifying place.

But oh, daughter. I am so ready to meet you and hold you in my arms and show you the beautiful things this place has to offer--like your big, crazy, wonderful brother and your handsome Papa who is going to melt into a puddle as soon as you look at him. Or your grandma and grandpa, and ah-ma and yeh-yeh, and aunties and uncles and cousins, and all the other people you will call family even though we don't share any DNA. And Christmas, baby girl. Christmas is coming, and there is almost nothing better than the world lit up with sparkling lights while the snow falls and you're surrounded by everyone that loves you. There are a million things more, my girl, but you have to come out to experience them.

My heart is waiting to grow, waiting to see your strands of hair, and your rosebud lips that take their first breath and the color of your eyes. You have been so unexpected in so many different ways, and being pregnant with you has been so different than being pregnant with your brother was--harder in many ways, sweeter in others, but mostly just it's own completely new experience. You have carried me through many days when I did not think I could keep going, and you have forced me to stop and evaluate the things that truly matter in life. I wasn't ready for you, but the Lord was, and now that I'm about to meet you I am continually reminded that He sees and He knows. Always.

There are things that terrify me about becoming your mother. Fears that I've never had before, because girls are different than boys and I've spent my world immersed in boy-thinking, and mess, and simple logic for the last 2 1/2 years. But now I'm diving head-first into a world that I know well, but that I also know nothing about. A mother's relationship with her daughter is completely different than that of her son, and I want to get it right with you, my girl. Females are mysterious and complicated creatures, but also simple and straightforward if you have the key. But sometimes no one has the key, and that's what scares me. 

I wish so many things for you, daughter. I want you to know the Lord and love Him with your whole heart, and your whole life, and your whole self--so much so that nothing this world has to offer will even sparkle in comparison to Him. I want you to know how valuable you are, how equal you are to your own opinion and your own thoughts and desires. How strong you are, and how you are just as capable as anyone else to do what you want and go where you want to go. I want you to know that you are beautiful, not because of your skin or your eyes or the number on the tag in the clothes you wear, but because you are a person, a human being, and there are no ordinary humans, love. I want you to find your worth in the Lord, and in yourself, but also realize how freeing it can be to be vulnerable with the right person. How a man cannot complete you, but he can come alongside you and show you pieces of yourself that you thought you had hidden forever.

So, darling. I know the world seems big and you are so very comfortable folded up inside of my ever-stretching belly. But life is so much better on the outside, surrounded by the people that love you--and believe me, there are a lot of us that love you. So come and meet your family. We're waiting to catch you and we promise to be ready when you decide to show up.

I will love you forever and a day.

-Momma

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work/mom

I never wanted to be a working mom.
The plan was to stay home with  my kids after they were born--after all, I am their momma and I should be the one raising them, right?

For the first year and a half of Jameson's life, I was fortunate enough to be able to do this. England has an awesome maternity allowance scheme that meant I got paid for nine months while hanging out with my babe. Amazing.
When October/November of last year rolled around, I got a part-time holiday job at Lush and loved it--I worked 15-20ish hours a week, walked there, and didn't ever have to work very late. It gave Jameson some time with Papa or Ah-ma and Yeh-yeh and it was fine. I made some friends and got some much-needed independence.

However, once we moved back to America, Hubs and I both knew that the situation was going to have to change. Moving transatlantically is expensive, and we did it twice. It meant that we both had to work, no matter how much I didn't want to.
Now, the incredible upsides to our situation are many: my parents or sisters are able to watch Jameson while Hubs and I are both working, and if I have to leave him, who better than with his own family?
Also, my office is extremely relaxed and very willing to work with me on scheduling. Everyone here loves my little family and they know how important they are to me.
Hubs and I work opposite schedules, and although this can be tough in the marriage department, it's easier in the childcare one. He gets to stay home with Jameson while I'm at work, then my family has him for an hour or so until I get home and take over. So really, J's got at least one parent with him for most of the day.
Finally, my working has taught Jameson some much-needed independence and strengthened the bond between Hubs and himself. He is now perfectly okay with waving goodbye, saying "Love you, momma" and heading out the back door to play. He knows I'm coming back, and he knows he's with people that care.

So. There is a lot of good in this situation.

But. But, but, but.

Every day, my heart hurts to be away from my kiddo and it makes me want to cry a little when I get home and watch him do something I've never seen before, but everyone else has. Or when he talks in his own little gibberish-y language and Hubs automatically knows what he's saying while I'm sitting in the dark.
I never wanted to do this work-away-from-home thing. That's why I wanted to be a writer--so I could be at home with my kids and still contribute. And even though I know this situation is (probably) somewhat temporary, it's still hard. I feel like I'm running a race, and I'm running out of endurance. I'm experiencing that split feeling that so many working moms talk about--like you aren't doing a great job at work or at home because there is just too much going on in both places. Not to mention that trying to take care of myself has fallen to the bottom of the pile, because any time I am at home, I am thinking about how I need to be with my family.

I have no resolutions or answers for any of this, other than to just keep going. I'm still "technically" part-time, even though I work nearly 31 hours a week. (Tack on my commute, and it's probably almost 40.)
I am so fortunate to even be able to work, and to have a job, so please don't think I am unaware of this. I just feel torn in half sometimes, and it's an uncomfortable state that I'm learning to live in.

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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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day 11 [round two]

Day 11
Meal 1: 1 1/2 sausages, 2 eggs, coffee w/creamer

Meal 2: Leftover lamb, romaine and spinach salad w/tomatoes and balsamic/olive oil dressing, 1/2 sweet potato

Snack: Bacon, apple w/almond butter

Meal 3: 2 1/2 bowls zucchini stew, 1 sweet potato

I don't even know what to say about today.
Jameson woke up in the middle of the night again last night, and Hubs worked an overnight, so it was my cranky butt that got up with him bright and early this morning. Then he threw his oatmeal on the floor and somehow managed to aim the bowl just right that it shattered on my carpeted floor.
I literally sat there with the pieces in my hands for a good five minutes and thought about how I would cry if I had the energy for it. 

Although, one way I know whole30 is working is the fact that I'm not a walking zombie even though my sleep has been crazy interrupted. Sure, I'm tired, but I'm functioning on one cup of coffee in the morning and managing to do okay. So, there's that.

No news on the laptop yet. Hubs is taking the keys off to try and clean underneath them and I managed to get the backup to run before I shut it off completely. Worse case scenario: it's kaput and we become a one computer family for awhile. We'll deal. It was pretty old anyway, and it was refurbished when I got it, so it's had a good life.
But maybe this isn't the end--maybe the laptop gods will see fit to let it live another day.

Either way, I'm trying to embrace the forced semi-hiatus from staring at a computer screen.  (Maybe this was God's plan all along. I'd been moaning about not being productive enough/spending enough time with my family...)

Managed to get Jameson and I out of the house and over to a friend's for lunch where I met up with two mom's from way back in my preggo days and their kids. It was good to be with other women who just let me whinge about my sleep-hating kid, and to let said kid trash someone else's living room for awhile. The best parts were when he'd run over to me saying, "Mama, MAMA!" and then give me a kiss and go about his merry business.
Man, I love that guy so much.

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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.

------------------------------

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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mom-wear-wednesday [4]

Dress: Old Navy// Shoes: Primark//
Headband: Rissy Roo's// Earrings: Gift from sister

Wow. Four weeks in a row.
I'm going to be honest and say that I can't believe I've lasted that long. (Or that you guys have been that interested.)
But maybe what I should really be surprised at is that so many people are so interested in what I look like when I walk out of the house. Are you all sure you want to be getting fashion advice from me?

Eh, whatevs. It makes me feel a little bit better about my wardrobe. Ha.

Anyway...I threw this on because it was sunny outside and the phone said that it was 71 degrees. The dress is old (like, at least four years old) because I wore it on my honeymoon, but I like the color and I like the way it makes my shoulders look. (Is that too honest?)

Clearly you have all seen the sandals before, but can I just say that for the £3 I spent on them at Primark, they have been a dream? Honestly, I walked around London for nearly seven hours on Saturday, and my feet were fine. So weird, but so wonderful.

Let's talk about the hair pictures for a minute. Is this something you all even want to see? I kind of feel like I've got to keep coming up with new hairstyles to put on here, since I've given away the hair donut secret and I should really do something different at least for the one time a week I'm photographing myself, right? But also, that means there's kind of pressure on me to figure something new out...like I need to go start a new board on Pinterest or something and actually attempt some of the hair tutorials on there. So, input needed. I am NOT a hairstylist and sometimes I'm all thumbs when it comes to taming this mane, but I like to try new things once in a while...I guess what I'm saying is, I'll be the hair guinea pig if that's what you all are looking for.

Also, note my cute little rosette headband. I finally got to jump on that bandwagon after I won a giveaway at Much Love, Illy and I am so excited about it. I got two headbands and two pairs of earrings from the lovely Larissa at Rissy Roo's and I am stoked. I love accessories, and I love free accessories, so this was everything I had ever dreamed of. Plus, I actually won a blog giveaway...which I am still kind of amazed about, because I didn't think that could actually happen.

So do you want to know the sad secret about this outfit?
After I took these pictures, I realized that I was going to be carrying Jameson around on my back for awhile, and that the baby carrier would not look great with this dress...so I changed into leggings and a tank top.
Dang. I know.
I should have taken pictures so you all could see the real "mom-wear-wednesday" that was happening (because it was definitely mom-wear, and it was definitely happening).
I promise I was not trying to "fashionista" you here, it just so happened that without Hubs around to tote my child, this dress was not mom-approved for my outing.

Next week I promise to actually take a picture on my way out the door (maybe with Jameson strapped to my back) so you can see EXACTLY what I am wearing. Sound good?

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mondays.

"Oh hey mom. Get it together."

"I've got a bad case of the Mondays."

That phrase sounds so oldy-person to me, but I'm feeling it today.

I think it's because this weekend was so full, and I'm feeling so weighted down with all of the things that I've got to finish this week--preferably sooner rather than later.

And being a mom is such a weird job, because your work is never done--I mean, how do you look at a day and say, "Yes, I successfully taught/disciplined/directed/respected/loved my child enough today. The quota was met, the job was well done."
You can't really, because there's never too much of any of that stuff.
Which is kind of hard for me, because I like gold stars, and checklists, and crossing things off.

I think that sometimes I just need to cut myself some slack, and get off my high-horse of importance.
--the world doesn't revolve around me, so it's not going to fall apart if I fall behind a little.
Which is nice, but also kind of a shot to your ego, if you think about it too much.

Anyway.
I'm tired. Hubs is tired.
There's a bottle of wine chilling in my fridge and fancy cheese that Hubs surprised me with yesterday, and brain candy waiting on the DVR.

I think it's time to call it a night.

--linking up with  The Naptime Review

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summer days

It's almost the end of July and "summer" has just barely arrived.
The weather people are saying that it will last for this whole week, but I always take English weather with a grain of salt.
So, for now, we are spending as much time outdoors and in the sun as we can, since I know that fall/winter/eternal rain will be on us sooner than we know it.
I think I should have been born in California, because ever since I moved to England, I've discovered that I need sunshine like I need water. It just changes everything.

And this guy...oh, this guy melts my heart every. single. day.

How have you celebrated summer so far? Got any tips to make me feel better about the awful (except for this week) British weather?

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weight.

As I was laying in bed, nursing Jameson to sleep tonight I had this brief revelation stop and settle in on my shoulders:

Life is so much heavier than it used to be.

I think it has to do with being a parent: all of a sudden the choices I make seriously affect another person's life in a total and complete manner. 

It's different than having a spouse, who is also a fully-grown adult, and is capable of making their own minor decisions and also has an opinion on major decisions. With a child, I have to do what is best for them--I have to think for them. And when you really stop and think about it, that's a terrifying prospect.

If he grows up with certain character flaws or ends up in therapy later on in life, chances are that it will have something to do with my decisions for him. Wow.

To be honest, it's no wonder that I've spent the last twelve months drowning in a sea of anxiety and despair. The weight of this responsibility is enough to bear, without all of the opinions and commentary that everyone else likes to heap on top (whether it's well-intentioned or not). 

To be brutally honest, I feel like it's only now that I'm starting to climb out of this fog and step into this place of freedom with my parenting choices--to be secure in them, and to not care what anyone else thinks. It's like a weird form of self-esteem, and I've had to stop being validated by other people and do what is best for my son. Mine. Not anyone else's.

Even though I thought about all of these things before I got pregnant, and before Jameson was born, there is just something so solid about it all now that he's here and starting to exercise his independent will. It's got a whole new real-ness about it now that I am just discovering and figuring out how to handle.

I hope we don't screw him up too much. Just kidding. Sort of.

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mom-wear-wednesday

Oh yeah, I'm doing it.
And none of this fashionista stuff either--this is the down and dirty "What Moms Actually Wear" post.
Because I know you all are just dying to know what I look like sitting behind this computer, right?
(Plus my fashion sense is questionable since I had a child. He took that part of my brain while he was inhabiting my body.)

Depending on the time of day that these pictures are taken, the outfit could vary a bit.
For example, I am currently dressed the way I am since it's 10:15 in the morning and I haven't had very much human contact today (other than with my one-year old).

So, let's begin.

Utah Utes sweater/sweatpants: Victoria's Secret
//Nailpolish: Maybelline 40-second dry in "Turquoise Lagoon"
//Glasses: 8-year old prescription made by "seventeen". I think.

A close-up of the sleeping baby in the background. Haha.

Ah yes. The matching sweatpants/shirt outfit. Every mom's favorite and mine in particular. When I first moved to England, I was so homesick and sad all the time (and pregnant), so I bought these Utah Utes sweatpants to represent. Then when I was home over Christmas, I got the matching sweatshirt to go on top. Plus they were both on sale, and I am a sucker for VS sale items.

This nailpolish is actually my new obsession. In all seriousness, I am in love with the color and it really does dry in, like, a minute. Which is great since I usually have to pick up a child/wipe up food/do any other menial task about five minutes after I've put it on.

I've had no reason to put my contacts in yet today, so you get to see my wonky and extremely old "sexy librarian" glasses. They're so old that the prescription is probably off, but there are more pressing matters in my life at the moment.

At least I did my hair--all praise the hair donut. It makes me look semi-put together without having to do anything other than roll it up and pin it down. Holla.

And there you have it. The first, iPhone edition of mom-wear-wednesday. Come back next week and see what goodies I've got in store for you!

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Dear Jameson [first birthday edition]

June 30, 2011.

July 1, 2012.

Dear Jameson,
I'm nearly two weeks late with this. Per usual. See there's this thing about your mother--she tries really, really hard to be organized and she absolutely HATES being late, but she usually is anyway. Deadlines are just not kind to her. But back to you...

I cannot believe an entire year has gone by since I spent that night in the hospital, squeezing your dad's hand and yelling through my contractions, just trying to concentrate on the fact that you were finally going to be in my arms in a few short hours. I remember the moment after I gave birth to you, seeing you lying there on the hospital bed and thinking, "That's him. That's my baby." You were so beautiful, and so foreign--I couldn't wait to get to know you and find out everything about you.

Oh, my son. You have turned my world absolutely upside down in the best way possible.

There are so many things I am afraid of forgetting about this first year, even though I know that there is no way for me to hold on to all of the little details. But there are a few things that I hope I remember...

--I hope I remember just how happy you are. You enjoy life so much, and it is so evident to everyone that watches you. You wake up in the morning with a big grin on your face that gets even bigger when you look over to find your dad and I just lying there, watching you. When you get excited, it radiates throughout your whole entire body--literally to the tips of your toes (which you point and stand on, while you clap and scream). If I could capture just a fraction of your joy, I would be one of the happiest people I know.

--I hope I remember how independent and adventurous you are (and I hope you stay that way forever). Some would call it "strong-willed", others would call it rebellion, but I know that you are simply determined to do things your own way and I am okay with that. You are soaking up the world around you, and I can just see you learning and figuring out new things and it makes me so proud of you. You love new experiences and new people, and I am just in awe of how smart you are already.

--I hope I remember that I did the best I could with what I had. Sometimes I am harder on myself than I should be, but then I have to sit back and remember that I love you with everything in me (and even more, I think) and that is what matters. I hope you know how much I love you, and even though I know you won't understand it until you hold a child of your own in your arms, maybe you'll be able to tell through my broken words and actions.

There are a million other things I could write about, like the way you dance when you hear latin music, or the way you giggle at your Papa every morning, and the way you press your whole body in to mine--like you just want us to be one person again for awhile.

Jameson, you are my sunshine. I know I can be impatient with you, and I am sorry for the times I've failed you already--even Mommas are broken, imperfect people. You are the bright part of all of my dark days, and you keep me going even when I don't think I can anymore. You are growing up right before my very eyes and I am the most blessed woman in the world to be your mother.

I love you, bubba. Happy birthday.
Mom.

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