Kissing Summer Goodbye

My goal for this summer was to very intentionally take things slowly and enjoy my kids just for who they are.

Today marks the last day of summer vacation. They start school on Monday for three hours five days a week.  We marked the days off on the calendar. Two short months. Nine brief weeks. Yes, it went quickly, but it was so very sweet. 

As I tucked them into bed tonight sleepy and dirty from the final day of summer fun, I did not feel any longing or regret for what could've been, but rather pure joy and contentment from the time we have spent just being together.

They are two and four, and what it took to create a summer full of bliss for us might not look like much to most people. Playgrounds, picnics, parades, puddle jumping, road trips to St Louis, St Joe, and Chicago, dance parties, sleepovers, pool play, tons of tag, Bible stories all snuggled up on the couch, bonfires and marshmallows, many museums, good books, splash parks, sand angels, rainbow sprinkles, veggies fresh out of the garden, sidewalk chalk, blowing bubbles, silly songs, math games, finger paint, sand and water play on the deck, building sand castles on the beach, bike rides, sweaty hikes, watering and weeding and watching plants grow, play dates, new friends, old friends, dropping off dinners made to bless others, cool moss, fresh lemonade, the county fair, slip and slides, sprinklers, and plenty of sunscreen!

This has been the happiest summer of my life. There is nothing I would rather do than make these teeny tiny memories full of love with my family. We have loved each other well this summer. We have basked in God's glorious creation. We have soaked up every drippy drop of joy. Our hearts are so full! We are richly and abundantly blessed!

30th Manifesto

My 30 Year Manifesto

I turned 30 on June 1st. 

Now, I am not one who dreads birthdays. I don't fear growing older.  I don't check the mirror frantically for gray hairs and wrinkles.  Every day is a blessing, every year is a blessing.  I have everything I had ever dreamed to have at this point in my life, and much more.  But still, turning 30 felt like a pretty big deal.  

I did a lot of thinking and praying leading up to my birthday.  I felt a pull to step forward into the next 30 years with more purpose and understanding than I've lived with for the last 30.  

I prayed, reflected, and listened.  I decided that the themes for my 30 Year Manifesto just HAD to be moderation and intentionality.  I won't go as far as to say balance, because there are definitely things in life worth tipping the scales for.  There are causes and beliefs that I am passionate about, people I will move mountains for.  I believe that is good.  But I also know myself well enough to know that I am a "knee jerk reaction" kind of person.  I act with my heart more often than my head.  Fortunately, I'm a pretty smart girl and that part usually takes care of itself...to say, it usually all turns out okay in spite of my strong emotional motivations.  

So, I sat down and wrote up a list of "guidelines".  I won't call them rules, because they aren't hard and fast.  Just general "good ideas" and "bad ideas" for moving forward and growing in the right direction.

So, without further ado:

My 30 Year Manifesto

~Eat food that makes me feel good after it's swallowed.

     I have a list of specifics here, but mostly I am sick of eating something that is supposed to taste amazing, only to be let down by the taste, and later let down further by the headache, nausea, bloat, and general discomfort.  

~Record more positives.

     Good things are happening all around me all of the time.  It is so easy to let them slide by unnoticed.  I want to be more intentional about noticing the good things, the little tiny rays of sunshine in the day to day.

~Focus intentional energy in my areas of calling on a regular basis. 

     For me these have to do with relationship building and self-care.  I have set specific intervals for girls nights out, date nights with Snuggs, writing and reflecting time alone, quiet time with God.

~Treat my body as a temple of the Lord.  Be healthy and strong for myself and my family.

     Countless tiny steps resulted in my first half-marathon less than 2 months before my birthday.  I just registered for another one.  I don't have big impressive PR goals.  I don't have a weight goal, or a size goal.  I just want to be healthy, be able to chase my kids for fun without being winded, and feel comfortable and confident in the body God gave me.  I want to be a good model for my daughter of how to view and treat her own body.  I want to be a good example for my son of what REAL female beauty means.  A slightly more complicated part of this has to do with ending the comparisons.  God didn't make me tiny, and that doesn't make me any less worthy or beautiful than those who occupy a smaller amount of space than I do.

That's it.  That's my 30 Year Manifesto.  I may stick with that until I'm 40.  I may decide next year that it needs to be changed.  But for now, that's where I am, and it feels pretty darn good to be there.     

 

I'll elaborate here a bit on the last tenant of my manifesto.  It's definitely the hardest for me.  I was never very body-confident in the first place, and then I had two relatively humongous children back to back.  Cricket turned one a week after Buttercup was conceived.  He weighed 9lbs 4oz, and she weighed 8lbs after 40 weeks of hyperemesis gravidarum.  My body did a whole lot of changing in two short years, and will continue to change because I can't, for the life of me, get her to wean.  I've been nursing or pregnant (sometimes both) for almost exactly five years.  FIVE YEARS. 

I could tell you about what that means, specifically. I could tell you about the cup sizes I've gone through, sometimes in one day.  I could tell you about the ridiculously large diastasis recti I've worked for almost a year to correct.  I could tell you about the pounds, the pants sizes, and how much I HATE to feel hungry.  But none of that matters anymore.  It did matter.  It matterED.  Those experiences were all valid and transformative.  But none of them define who I am as a child of God.  

I made a decision today.  I decided that I was going to go to the pool with my friends and our children.  I decided that I wasn't going to worry about my body.  I decided that other people probably notice and care about my body approximately as much as I do theirs, and that's pretty next to nil.  I will say, I was a bit taken aback by a woman in a see through tank and no bra in the pool today.  THAT is what it takes to catch my attention.  I don't know or care what size suits my friends had on.  It doesn't matter that it may take one ounce more or one ounce less to sunscreen me than it does to sunscreen you.  

There has been A LOT of hard work done to get to this place.  And by that, I don't mean pounds lost.  I haven't shred a one since I decided I really needed to reconcile my body issues about six months ago.  Exercise is important.  It matters if you want to feel good, function well, and honor what God has given you.  Good food is important.  It matters if you want to feel good, function well, and honor what God has given you.  But you know what, neither food nor exercise has changed my body image.  

That hard work looked more like this: Long, uncomfortable, embarrassing, revealing conversations with trusted friends trying to wrap my mind around HOW I could POSSIBLY be beautiful.  

Tearful prayers of surrendering shame. 

 Snotty sobs on my husbands' shoulder as I sorted through all of the lies I'd been told for 30 years about who I am and how that just isn't enough...or worse, too much (that's a different post).

Hard conversations with mentors about what I'm teaching my daughter without even trying to.  

And yes, the half marathon training and improved nourishment helped.  But not in a calories in/calories out, losing weight sort of way.  Rather, I got another look at how beautiful it is to be STRONG. I learned that my body can do hard things, really hard things.  I learned that I am worth more than the cast off food scraps of my kids, or the leftover junk from a meal out that I would NEVER feed them.  

I learned that a big part of the problem is that I was just spending too much time and energy THINKING about it.  Guess what, my body, regardless of size, shape, and squishiness, was created by God (which inherently makes it amazing, beautiful, and more than good enough) to do His work (which involves a lot more serving others and a lot less worrying about myself.)

So, I went to the pool today.  I went with my saggy boobs that traded perkiness for the nourishment and comfort of two babies.  I went with my squishy tummy that traded firmness for life.  I went with my cellulite, and my bumps and bruises, and the most absolutely ridiculous tan lines from my orthotic sandals.  I went with my hair in a messy bun, and sunscreen in lieu of makeup. And nobody cared, and more importantly, I DIDN'T CARE! And I enjoyed my kids and my friends for WHO they are, not HOW they LOOK, and that love was returned to me.  And tomorrow I will put on decent clothes, makeup, and do my hair, and I will feel pretty, because God made me that way.  I will wear my invisible crown because I am the daughter of The King.  (And I'm considering wearing an ACTUAL crown from time to time, just to reinforce those concepts.)    

 

To the "me" of 5 years ago

Newly engaged, I had never been happier. I couldn't imagine being happier. This picture speaks volumes. The way I held his arm and hand, the closeness. I was safe, well loved, and so deeply joyful. 

I look at this picture and I am absolutely blown away at the thoughts and emotions that flood my mind. Most prominently, "I HAD NO IDEA."

I had no idea how good it would be. 

I had no idea how well he would love me.

I had no idea how little the actual wedding would matter.

I had no way to know how many times he would hold me gently while I cried.

I had no way to know how strongly he would carry my burdens. 

I had no way to know that one awful day I'd look at him and whisper-scream "Get out!" And how blessed I would be that he didn't listen. 

I didn't know a thing about whole foods, GAPS diet, or Sensory Processing Disorder.

I didn't know a thing about hyperemesis gravidarum, or diastasis recti. 

I didn't know a thing about what tired really meant. 

I couldn't anticipate how much of my life would be out of my control-the day to day things like being on time and having a clean shirt.

I couldn't fathom how much I would love my babies the very first millisecond I laid eyes on them. 

I couldn't comprehend how complicated it would be to just get showered, let alone dressed and made up. 

I look at that girl, and mostly I feel GRACE. 

Sweetie, it's okay that you don't deserve such a good man. God is giving him to you as a gift, a blessing. You don't have to "earn" him, you just have to love him. And let him love you, just as messy and complicated as you are. His love will teach you so much about how to love yourself. He will get you there one tiny painful step at a time. 

Sweetie, it's okay that you will stare at his entire huge family you hardly knew and completely panic walking down the aisle. Nobody will know what is going through your head, and you will make it to the man. All they remember is the food, anyway. (Side note-anyone getting married in the fall should serve Thanksgiving dinner at the reception. Everyone still goes on and on about it.) The pictures will be great, the food will be great, I would even go as far as to say the vows will be great. But none of that matters as much as forgiving and trying again to love well tomorrow. 

Sweetie, you think you are in charge, and you are so wrong. But God knows you. He knows your strong will. He knows your tenacity. So He will teach you in the form of a teeny baby girl who will demonstrate to you daily that you are not in control, and that you will only survive by relying on God. She will reflect to you the clearest image of yourself, and you will stand there scratching your head. The question won't be, "How am I supposed to deal with this?" But rather, "How do people deal with ME? (Because she IS me.)

Sweetie, your body is lean. You count your calories the way you will someday count his breath every night for the first two months of his life. You consume things that you would never fathom feeding your children, because you love them too much to fill them with chemical crap. Someday you will shake your head in disbelief every single time you serve your children a snack in a tea cup, because that used to be how you measured your meals. 

Sweetie, that body is also very firm. You worry, as you lie on your side and he holds you, that he can feel your fat. That it will gross him out. That he will want someone else. You would be mortified to know the things he will witness happening to your body through the growth and birth of two children. You can't imagine that squish could be beautiful, but it is. A tummy that has stretched to accommodate a total of 17 pounds and 4 ounces of babies IS beautiful. Someday you will look back and momentarily miss that firm, flat tummy, and then in the next moment you will know with every fiber of your being that you wouldn't trade a single moment  with those sweet babies to have that body back. 

Sweetie, you will be broken. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. You will break. And somehow from the middle of your mess God will put you back together better than you've ever been. You will spend an entire year healing your destroyed stomach muscles. You will spend two learning how to truly love someone who you will never fully understand, someone who makes you completely insane. You will learn, painfully, that this is not your show. It's God's show, and he calls the shots. And you will learn to trust Him when you don't like it and don't understand, and that will be the closest to heaven on earth that you will ever come. 

Sweetie, enjoy the time and space now. Enjoy the sleep, the sleeping in. Enjoy the showers without a toddler repeatedly pulling the curtain out and pouring water all over the floor because you've been out of sight for 30 seconds and YOU ARE SORELY MISSED. Enjoy the time to style your hair, change your mind, start over, and still have time to make it out the door and to your destination without anyone else's bodily fluids on your clothes...or face. Enjoy the boobs that are the same size day and night, regardless of anyone else's appetite. Enjoy the idea that they aren't anyone else's personal belongings, they are just yours. Enjoy these things now, so that when they change you can enjoy the new. Someday very soon you will enjoy rocking a baby all night long regardless of how tired you are. You will also enjoy the friends who bring you Starbucks. Someday you will enjoy the tiny face that peeks into the shower and squeals in delight as the water splashes his face. Someday you will enjoy a ponytail again, and again, and again, because babies need burped and diapers need changed and nobody has time for hair in their way! Someday you will be relieved that at 3am, when you have no idea what is wrong, your boobs have magical milky powers over the fussiest of babies. Someday you will be truly amused as she asks for "the nother one" so many times that you begin to wonder just HOW MANY boobs she thinks you are hiding under your shirt. 

It's not going to be like you think it will be. It's going to be a lot messier and far more exhausting. It's going to require more apologies and forgiveness than you can actually muster at this point, but it's ok. You will learn. Your humility will grow and grow. Your firmness will turn to mush well beyond your belly, deeper than that into your very soul. And it will be good. Even when it's stretched out, running late, and covered in snot, it will be so very good. 

You are a JERK

Let me tell you something about you. You are not too busy. You are not too stressed. You are not even too lazy. You are just downright too damned mean. 

It's hard to write this, because I love you. But I'll go ahead, because I'm completely certain that even if you read it, you will have no idea that it's about you. That would require considering someone else's feelings, and that's just not how you roll. 

"I bet you think this song is about you, don't you? Don't you?"---no, that would be ME, the one who cares about other people's feelings. 

I have two children, one of whom has some special needs; a husband who works long and unpredictable hours, who also has some major medical issues; I'm training for a half-marathon, and I still manage to find time to look outside of myself and my situation. Why? One simple reason: basic human kindness. 

I'll admit, I'm more willing to love on people who reciprocate at least a little. But I know all too well that you can't use that excuse. I know because I have tried and tried and TRIED to love you well. But my well is running dry, and I'm fighting bitterness. 

The saddest part about the whole thing is that you are completely and entirely unaware that you are a huge selfish jerk. I want to say it's not your fault, it's got something to do with how you were raised, but at some point you've got to GROW UP and take responsibility for who you CHOOSE to be as an adult.

Jesus demands that I love you, that I'm kind to you, and that I keep trying because He does. But I'm not Jesus, and I promise to keep trying, but I don't like it and it's HAAAARD. 

I'm not keeping score, but if I had to guess a ball park, I'd say I've done approximately a dozen nice things for approximately 8 people outside of my immediate family in the past MONTH. It makes me happy to make other people happy. I love to love on people just for the sake of doing it. I know, I am a servant by nature and you are not, but could you possibly muster a single solitary effort once...ever? 

I have gotten more legitimate thanks and appreciation and reciprocity from people I hardly know, people who I served because they had lost a loved one, had a major medical issue, or just added a child to their lives. People who truly don't have time to reciprocate, people whose hearts are absolutely broken, people who are scared and hurting, people who have fluids leaking out of every orifice in their body and are rejoicing and soaking in every crooked sleepy smile from their FOURTH dependent.

Don't get me wrong. I don't do it for the appreciation. I don't do it for the thank yous, the facebook posts, or the favors in return. But a "hello" or a smile, perhaps a response to a question or invitation...THESE ARE BASIC HUMAN DECENCIES! 

I admit, I've gone through seasons of being more served than serving. Buttercup was a DIFFICULT baby to adjust to, and it took me a while, a bit too long really, to pull myself out of that hole. I even missed the boat on loving some people who really needed it because I was too caught up in my own junk. But I've recognized, apologized, and tried to make it right. You aren't in a "season" because seasons change, and this story has remained the same for aaaages. 

I will conclude by pulling a complete 180 and thanking YOU. Thank you for teaching me by example that it doesn't matter how smart you are, how beautiful, how "successful", how eloquent. None of that matters if you are a jerk. You've taught me so much, and it matters. 

It matters because I am teaching my children. I am teaching them that NOTHING is more important than BEING the love of Christ. We aren't put here for any reason other than to glorify God. And there's a one word "to-do list" for that purpose: LOVE.

Fortunately, He gives me plenty of tools to keep on working that one word list even when the going gets tough. For now, I'll focus on grace. You're welcome. 

In my falling short

I haven't opened up too much here about Buttercup and our struggles in parenting her. The last thing I want is for her to one day read this and hate me for it. But I also know that if I don't get some of it down, I will lose it. And it matters. The mess matters. The hard matters. The sometimes humiliating admission of my weakness matters...because that's where I find His perfect strength.  

So, without further ado:

Our previous OT told me that Buttercup's case was one of the most difficult she had encountered. Today our current OT repeated the sentiment. 

We have an Autism screening next week, are expecting a second sleep study soon, more blood work, and have a recommendation for a neuropsych eval. It's amazing, because most people who meet her would never know she is any sort of different. 

Being her momma has been the hardest thing I've ever done, and we are only two years in. 

I don't tell you this for your pity-I don't need it. 

I don't tell you in hopes that you will understand-it's almost impossible. 

I tell you because I want you to know that I don't have it figured out. 

Most days the fact that I can stay upright until dark with less than 4 hours of non-consecutive sleep is enough to amaze me. I whisper to my husband in the middle of the night, "I don't want to parent her. I don't like parenting her." I cry, because that feels awful to admit. 

I cry because I have a history of emotional management struggles, and that gives me a tiny inkling of what she's dealing with, and it's no rosy road.

But I do. 

I do parent her. 

I do love her with all I have even, when I don't want to or don't feel like it. God gave her to me because He thought I was the best candidate to be her momma. And if I claim to trust Him, I have to trust Him in this, too. 

I'm also not trying to make a mountain out of a molehill.  I know many families have much harder struggles than ours. But this gig is hard, and I think transparency somehow makes it easier. 

So, when you're struggling, know that it's ok. I'm struggling, too. When you want to quit, and feel awful for wanting to, know that it's ok. Sometimes I wish she'd scream for ANYONE other than me for the 40th time that night. Daddy? Minnie Mouse? Elmo? Bueller? No. Only "Neeeed miiiine mooooom!" 

When you feel like you are failing, like you couldn't possibly be doing this thing right, know that God chose you. He matched you and your baby perfectly by His design. Seek Him, and press on through the tears. His strength is made perfect in your weakness. 

To quote my favorite doula, "In your falling short, they (your kids) are led to His never failing." AMEN to that. Amen.