The Reflection of God To Our Children

I have a hope, it's that God sat over the dark nothing and wrote you and me, specifically, into the story, and put us in the sunset and the rainstorm as though to say, enjoy your place in my story. The beauty of it means you matter, and you can create within it even as I have created you. - Don Miller

When I think deeply over this truth I am reminded what I have purposed in my heart to be as a mother to my children. I reflect on my intentions of wholeheartedly wanting to be a woman who slows the world down for their childhood, creating memories and enchantment in the most ordinary days. A mom that they wake up and see reading the word of God and one that is intentional about connection and observation in tiny matters of their hearts.

But social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest can be mass weapons of distraction. They can be valuable sources of encouragement and kinship or they can be a tool used by the enemy to distract my life from my children. In each inattentive moment I am scrolling and double tapping wishing they would stop "bothering" me for "just 5 more minutes" defines God a little bit more clearly for my child. The times I make the effort to create a fun day for them and take them to exciting places are important, but they pale in comparison to the image of God that I am reflecting to them when they need me most. An image that I define little by little, day by day.

My prayer today is that we don't let ourselves be distracted, but be still, listen to our children and reflect to them what we know our Father is for us when we approach His throne. He is never too distracted for us or bothered by us. Our part in their story matters just as much as our part in our own. So pray for me today momma, as I pray for you and the portrait you paint to your children of God's everlasting love and vigilance of our hearts. #makeitcount

Saying Goodbye To A One Year Old.

I hadn't really thought of it that way.

Sure, I've thought about how time is flying. How it doesn't seem like 2 years since we held that perfect little person for the first time. I've often thought about how I will turn around and he will be going off to school. And I'll turn again and he will be driving a car. Another spin and he's in college. Married. Has a family of his own. And dizzy and confused I will sit and wonder - where did the years go? But it wasn't until I watched my husband walk out of our son's room on Tuesday night with tears in his eyes, that I realized what we were doing. 

"What's the matter?" I asked him. "Why are you about to cry?"

"Because I just said - 'goodnight my little one year old. I love you. I'm gonna miss you.'"

He was right. I was so caught up in the celebration of another year of life and fun and love with my son that I hadn't even thought about the fact that we were saying goodnight to our one year old for the very last time. That changed things. I held onto my husband, sobbing from a place deep within my chest. I didn't want to say goodnight to him. I didn't want to let him go. That year, and all of it's illuminating days are gone. We blinked and our child went from a crawler who looked at us with bright loving eyes to a runner that can now tell us that he loves us.

It has been such an amazing year. Our son has blossomed into the little toddler I always knew he would be. There is so much I love about him. I love that he loves to make us laugh. I love that every night before bed he gives me kisses between the crib bars, one kiss for each space, all the way down the crib. I love that his favorite song is a Coldplay song. That he passes out hugs like nobody I have ever seen, arms wide open. Even the cashiers can't help but come around their registers and give him that hug he was wanting. I love that his favorite characters are already the underdogs - like The Little Engine That Could. And I love that he is so full of life and light and energy.

But he is also full of hope and promise of things to come. And with the sadness of saying
goodbye to our one year old, also comes a silver lining.

Saying HELLO to our two year old.

“Be present in all things and thankful for all things.”
― Maya Angelou

Bridging the Gap

In light of my week, I wanted to share something that I came across today that gave me so much
encouragement as a mother, and I'm hoping that it might encourage other moms as well. 

First, let's backtrack. 

How did my week start?  

Well, I woke up one morning to the sounds of my child. It wasn't really a cry....more of like a frustrated moan. So I got out of bed to see what was going on. When I walked into his room, I saw him standing there, arms raised, ready to get out of his bed. He looked ok. He wasn't hurt and he started to smile at me as I came in closer. So I thought -ok, he's fine, probably just wanted to wake me up so we could get our day started, no big deal.

As I got in closer and wrapped my hands around him to pick him up, I noticed something odd. I could see more flesh color below his shirt than I normally see. I slowly raised it. That's when I noticed the diaper sitting over in the right side of his bed. You know, the one he took off of his body.  

The first thing that ran through my mind were the words DON'T PANIC. But of course, the next few things to run through it were - how long has this been off? did he pee anywhere? I'm washing all these sheets just in case. why did he take this off ? am I stepping in anything? check the floor, check the floor!!

And that's when I turned around and saw it. Yep... IT. He had gotten tired of it being in his diaper I guess, taken his diaper off, and thrown IT on the floor. You know that music that plays in a horror movie right when the main star sees something terrifying? That music played in my head. Yep. This really just happened to me. I'd be lying if I said I didn't take a deep breath, cringe, and slowly look up at the ceiling ... just in case. 

And if that's not enough to throw off your week, there's more. 

Like the meltdown we had after .. of all things ... taking his toothbrush away. I thought kids didn't even like to brush their teeth! My child can't get enough. He wants to walk around with his toothbrush. He wants to talk to his toothbrush. I'm excited that he loves doing it so much at such a young age, but I'm not too excited about the tantrum he throws when I decide it's time to put it away. Kicking. Screaming. Crying. Hyperventilating. The works.

Then I find out that my son is a hoarder. Yep. You read that right. I pull out the couch to mop underneath and I find a plethora of items he has hidden under there. They include: 6 blocks, 1 sock, 4 goldfish, 2 empty water bottles, 3 assorted balls, 1 I Love Lucy DVD (out of the case), a comb, 2 foam letters, 3 books, and a zebra. You'd think we have a huge couch. But no, it's the usual size. You'd think I haven't mopped in a year. But nope, hasn't been that long ago. How my kid gets everything under there, I'm not really sure. 

After that day, I needed to return a pair of shoes that I bought for a wedding that I ended up not needing. Unfortunately for me, the stroller was in my husband's car. It will be fine, I thought, I will just get one of those kid cars at the front of the mall, take care of what I need to and we'll be headed out.

So there I go, into the mall carrying my 30 lb child, a box of shoes, and my huge diaper bag. Only to find out that I went in on the complete opposite side of the kid cars. So I make my way over there, now sweating profusely and out of breath to see that it costs 5 dollars to rent one of those things. Are they crazy!?! But there was no way I could get this done with a child in my arms, or running around on his own. No way. So I get out my wallet. Nope. No cash. Of course not. I make my way back over to the side of the mall with the ATM machine and withdrawal some money. By this time, my child wants anything but to be in my arms and is squirming like crazy while I'm fumbling these other items in my hands. Did I mention I'm sweating? From this point, my experience was bound to be awful, so I picked my lowest option of withdrawal, $20, and headed to a few of the kiosks to see who had change. After about 10 minutes of that headache, I made it over to the cookie cake place and bought an Icee so that I could get a five dollar bill. It was a small victory to pop that five dollars in that machine and get my car. At first, I couldn't believe those things were $5. By that time, I would have paid a fortune for one. 

And that leads us to Sunday. The day that challenges me at motherhood beyond anything else I have experienced. You see, I tell all of these funny stories about my child throwing fits and well, throwing other gross things, for entertainment purposes on my blog .... but that's only about 5% of the time. The other 95%, he's the happiest, sweetest, most friendly, lovable, adorable kid I've ever known. He's strong, he's kind, he's amazing. It's just that he's still a baby, and he's a BOY and he's not around other children a lot. So when we go to church services, he thinks it's time to play. Yesterday morning, I thought we were READY. I mean, you would think that about 3 books with 100 pages each, some crayons, a bucket of goldfish (ok, so maybe not a bucket .... that's an exaggeration. More like a barrel),  a bag full of toys, and half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich would be enough to keep your child still and quiet for a few minutes right? Well, once again I spent Sunday in the nursery *surprise* talking my son out of running into walls, reaching in the trash can, and getting in the faces of the other children just to say "hi!". It felt like a disaster. It's always the day when I need the most encouragement, and the day I'm hardest on myself as a mom. 

That brings me back to what I saw that encouraged me. It's exactly what I needed. I found it on a website called In the Mom Light that I stumbled upon when looking for something else. I'm so glad I did. 

I'm looking forward to seeing what adventures next week holds! 

Finding Joy In The Chaos

Let's get real. Being a mom is hard.

It's screaming fits in public. It's teething for a year straight.
 It's catapulting pancake pieces across the kitchen. {Oh, your kids don't do that?}

It's everything I never imagined it would be. and... luckily, it's

EVERYTHING I NEVER IMAGINED IT WOULD BE.

Recently I was reminded of a quote about the "4 things you can never get back"

The STONE after it's thrown.

The WORD after it's said.

The OCCASION after it's missed.

and the TIME after it's gone.

I struggle with joyful times as a parent. What I mean is, I almost always
 ruin that amazing, breathtakingly beautiful moment with my child when he
 reaches a milestone or does something hilarious, or when he just runs up and
wraps his arms around my neck.

I enjoy it, I do.... for a moment. And then the realization sets in deeper that before
 I know it, he won't want to blow me these kisses anymore. He won't be small
 enough for me to scoop up and tickle, and some day, I will no longer be the most
 important woman in his life anymore. It's just reality. So instead of getting to
 stretch out these joyful times with laughter and big smiles on our faces, I turn
 into a pile of goo with tears streaming down my face and before I even know
 it, I'm gripping on to my kid like a leach repeating please don't grow up,
 please don't grow up over and over again.

Ugh. It's a pathetic sight. Believe me.

But moms, the thing we need to realize is, they ARE going to grow up.
There's nothing we can do about THAT.

What we CAN do something about, is finding so much joy in the everyday
 chaos so that we get the very most out of the time we are given with
 these precious little gifts.

If you would have asked me as a newlywed how I would feel about pancake
 pieces with syrup on my kitchen floor, I would have shuttered at the
 thought. Ha! Not in my immaculately kept home. {or so it was in some
parallel universe called my imagination} But I've found that as a mom, you just
 can't worry about those things. If you do, before you know it, you are running
 to grab a wet cloth all while scolding your child and drowning out the sound
 of his laughter and missing the big beautiful smile on his face. Do I mean
 not to teach him table manners? Well, of course not. If your child catapults
 food at every sitting, I'd say it's probably lesson time. But if this is a one time
thing and you can find it within yourself to play along for just a minute, I urge
 you to find the joy in it.

I use this as an example because it happened this morning. As I was teaching my
 son how to hold the spoon and put the pancake in his mouth, he grabbed a
 hold of the end of the spoon, pulled it down with all his might and let go -
 causing the pancake to rocket across the room. My eyes got big and my
 mouth opened wide and he started laughing the sweetest laugh I've ever
 heard in my life. My first reaction was to say "No, Connor!" in my annoyed
 tone and get up to grab the flying shrapnel off of the side of the cabinet.
But I remembered part of the quote I had heard days before - the things
 you can't get back ... and that moment, was something that I could
never be given again. 

-So I embraced it.-

I laughed and laughed with him. I took another piece of pancake and shot it
 over his head. He died laughing. He kicked his legs in his little highchair
 and snorted. Sure, I might have a mess to clean up later. I might have to
 make one more pancake so that he has enough to eat. And no, he will
 never remember that fun morning with Momma when we
 shot pancakes across the kitchen, ...

BUT I WILL.

Yesterday we had to run some errands at the mall for a wedding I am
 in this weekend. I was a little nervous about how the day would go because
 I knew it would take me some time to find all of the things I needed,
and though my son is probably the friendliest kid I've ever seen - saying
 'Hi' and waving to everyone we pass and even blowing kisses to complete
strangers - he is still only one, and he still gets tired and irritable. 

We just made the most of it. I tried to find joy in the chaos all day, despite
 how tiring and stressful and hectic it all was. Though I needed to pick up
 most of these things for adults, I vowed not to make the day just about
 me while I had "a child inconveniently tagging along". We played in the
 fire trucks and cars. We met the Easter Bunny. We took photos in the
 photo booth. We ate lunch together and shared a fruit cup.

I could have just run in on a mission, got what I needed, shushed my
child with every person we passed and headed back home. It probably
would have been easier. But instead, we made memories.

It wasn't anything special. It hardly took any effort. But it was one of the
best days of my life. I know that's going to sound odd to some. Especially
 those whose lives are so exciting and adventurous and magical and don't
 include snotty noses and green beans spit into your hand.

So my advice to every mother-to-be or momma whose baby is still little
and has yet to learn to walk and talk and get into literally
 everything they see ....

Is to take a deep breath. To find joy in every moment.

 It's going to be a lot of work. You're going to have to do more physical
 labor than you want. You're probably going to break a sweat more
 than you hoped. You'll have to repeat the same silly things or
annoying songs over and over again just for a half of a smile.
 It means taking a detour on your shopping trips to let your kids
 just be kids. It means cleaning your kitchen (and your entire
house for that matter) more than you expected. And moms,
we're going to HAVE to get off of the internet and our cell
 phones. We're going to have to get off of Pinterest, and
Facebook, and Twitter, and Instagram, and our email, and our text
 messages and all of the other things that distract us during the day
 when our kids aren't napping and we should
be playing with and teaching them.

We aren't guaranteed another child. I think about that every day.
 And we surely aren't guaranteed another day with our little one.
This is the only one we're certain of. So I suggest we make the most of it.
We embrace the mess. We find joy in the chaos.

We send our children into their futures, knowing they are valued and loved.

...and if that means I have to clean up a few pancakes ... bring it on.

Children are the living messages we send
to a time we will not see.  ~Neil Postman

Super C's First Birthday Party

This past weekend we threw a superhero birthday party for our son who will turn one tomorrow. I can't believe how fast time flies. Here are some pictures from the party. It was a blast! 

We love you, Super C! 

Revealed.

I remember what Sunday mornings used to be like. Before I spent them in the nursery, wrestling what feels like a twenty pound bag of snakes. Sweating. Rolling my eyes at myself because I just had to wear this dress and it sure doesn't make it easy for me to move nor is it comfortable in the least bit. Before I had my hair pulled constantly and my bracelets ripped off, fighting a sleepy child.

Before these days, I sat comfortably in my pew. Bible in my lap, maybe a notepad out to take some notes. My husband's arm around me, listening attentively with absolute peace of mind.

I look in front of us now, on most Sunday mornings, before I leave to head to the nursery to listen to the sermon in there - because my child won't stop squealing or babbling or crying or screaming or just trying to flirt with the pretty girls that sit behind us, distracting everyone in plain view. I juggle the books, toys, snacks, and anything and everything else within arms reach I can use to distract him, but nothing works. I see the young couples in the rows, pointing out things to each other in their Bibles, cuddled close together with the husband's arm around the wife, calmness on their faces. That used to be us, I tell myself, as I stand up with my son in my arms, look down at our train wreck of a pew, the lonesome gap between my husband and I, grab my bag and let out a big huff of breath to display my discouragement. 

It is one of those inevitable moments where I feel like I wasn't cut out for this mother stuff.

And then, once we get into the nursery, something in that moment is revealed to me.

I finally get him calmed down, tuck his little arm under mine, and begin to rock him slowly. The room is quiet and still. We stare at the mint green wall with the beautifully painted tree. And I see his head lift up to look me in the eyes. Over the speaker the preacher talks of being aware of our treasures. And at that moment, I am. He snuggles up closer to me, and I can feel his head relax on my bicep, eyelids having trouble staying opened. The way the light hits his skin makes it shimmer, almost like there is gold in it. He falls asleep with a little bit of a smile on his face. I wanted to be in there, with them.... but he, he is right where he wanted to be. And it is revealed to me, that as exhausting as motherhood is sometimes, and as much as it has changed the routine I've been so comfortable with, I can't imagine being like those couples in the pew again. I can't imagine not looking over at my husband and chuckling when a big burp comes out of such a little body. I can't imagine little arms not flailing in front of me as we sing our hymns. I can't imagine not seeing a little finger tracing the shapes in the books we pull out with hesitation.

And I can't, as much as I could try, imagine a Sunday morning ... with empty arms.

Being a mother has revealed to me that as much as I loved the honeymoon phase, this chapter of our lives is far better and I could never imagine life again, without my little shadow.

He's a little wobbly now. I watch his chubby thighs squat as he figures out a way to get down from the object he just pulled up on. Just three weeks ago he was learning to crawl. Today, he is standing while holding on to things and taking steps to get closer. He changed so quickly from the quiet little baby that we carried around to the child that illuminates every room we bring him into. 

If someone could tell me how to stop this clock, and just be allowed to sit here, in this day I've spent with my son until I feel I've soaked up enough of it, I'd give anything. If I could stop the sun from setting, just for one day, just for a little while, until I felt enough sugars on my lips, saw enough smiles, and heard enough laughter to have it memorized in my soul, I can assure you, I would. But that's not what a sun is for. It's for counting our days. For reminding us that we have only a short amount of time to fill them with as much significance and joy as we can.

I often find myself staring at him when he doesn't know I'm watching, just playing with his toys and jabbering to himself. He always focuses so intently on everything he wants to play with. Sometimes I wonder if he'll one day be an architect. No matter what type of fun or colorful toy he touches, he is always inquisitive about how it is assembled. Such a promising little mind that I am helping shape and mold. And as I watch him, I feel an overwhelming sense of  happiness to know that he is a part of me. But with the happiness always comes a little bit of sadness when I remember that I will only be given one of these moments, just like this.

And I can never get it back.   

Being a mother has revealed to me that life flies by entirely too fast and as much as I ache to, I can't slow down a single day, or a single moment, of this beautiful journey.

Last week, I traveled back to where I grew up for a day in order to help my mom get some of my grandmother's things in order. I sat there with her, looking through old photo albums, watching her face light up when she saw one of my brother and me years ago. They were faded, partly because of the quality of cameras back then, but mostly because they had been in the book, behind the cover, for almost 30 years. But what isn't faded, are my memories of my childhood with my mother.

Two things I would never be able to separate in my mind are music and my childhood. I can still see her, in her lightly washed flare leg bluejeans with big vertical pockets, dancing to Gary Morris songs on our living room floor. She always encouraged us to dance with her, and so we would get up from whatever had our attention at the time, grab her hands and start moving. I have no doubt in my mind that it brought my mother so much joy to share those moments with us. If I had only known then that she was probably wishing to freeze that moment, I would have made it last so much longer. For her. I wouldn't have raced back to my barbies or my play "school". I would have held her hands and danced with her there until she let go. I would have stretched it out as long as I could. For her.

 For me.

I had no idea how much my mother loved me. It wasn't hard to guess. She has always been nothing but selfless for me and my brother. She has always given anything and everything to ensure our safety and happiness. I was pretty sure I could imagine just how much she probably loved me as I got older, but I could never really understand until I had my son. And now I know.

She had it much harder than I do. She didn't have the Internet to google questions about baby foods or sleep patterns. She didn't have Pinterest to show her how to make homemade wipes or a Halloween costume. She learned as she went along and she did such an amazing job. I see a lot of her in myself. I say words to my son that I haven't heard in years, words that she used to say to us. I catch myself using the same looks and turning on the same music for us to dance to in the morning.

I couldn't make time stop for my mother. And I sure can't make it stop for me.

But if my children grow up, and look back on their childhood with affection and tenderness, and think that I have done even half the job with them that my mother did with us, I will be satisfied.

  

Being a mother has revealed to me what a wonderful mom I am blessed to have.

 

  Motherhood is so much harder than I ever imagined it would be. It is long sleepless nights and half eaten dinners. It is chasing around a speedy crawler and full hands and fumbling keys on the way to the car. It's even Sunday mornings in the nursery. And I'm only ten months in.

But I wouldn't trade a second of it, not for anything in the world. It reveals something new to me every day. Something about who I am, who God is, and what a blessing I've been given in my son. All I can do when I'm having one of those days where I'm feeling as though maybe I'm not cut out for this mother stuff, is to be aware of my treasures. Be conscious that this is the best we get in life. These are some of my happiest days. Even worn out, when I lay my head on the pillow at night and think back on all I've done with my son that day and all that has made me laugh and smile, it was worth it. And I can't slow the days down, not a bit. But I can make sure I use them up. And show him how much I love him every opportunity I get. Just like my mother did for me.

Let's Play Catch Up ...

My husband brought it to my attention the other night that I haven't been a very faithful blogger since I had our son. And he's right. When I was expecting, I made it a point to blog every two weeks about what was going on, feelings I experienced, and funny things that were happening. I also included a picture.

So now, why not continue updating all of you on how my sweet boy is learning and growing and show you pictures of how adorable he is?! I often forget that posting pictures on Facebook of him doesn't do any of my blog followers that aren't on facebook any good. So this post will be for catch up purposes only.

First, let me just say ... being a mother is the greatest thing in the world. I really wish I could better articulate the magnitude of becoming a mother for young women who have yet to experience this. Everyone thinks they know just how amazing it is going to be, and then they are completely... well, pleasantly surprised, I think. At least, I know I was. From the moment that I knew I was carrying a growing person inside of me, it was the most beautiful, extraordinary experience I could have ever imagined. And for those who are still kind of soul searching, have yet to feel their worth or are trying to find value in themselves through other things, I wish they could know what is coming. Because I've been the career woman, putting all of my focus and energy into that, and I've been the person who finds inspiration and passion in art and music and literature, I totally get all of that, I do. But becoming a mother is the single greatest role that I could ever take on in my lifetime.

The first part of this post might be a little boring to those of you who could not care less about the hair and weight of a growing baby. So feel free to skip on down...  

 The first month of Connor's life was such a joy. We were slowly getting to know each other. His personality really hadn't shown itself yet, but he was getting used to our home and his new family. He was so very tiny. Looking back now, it is hard to believe that he was ever under 8 lbs. Within the first month of his life, he began smiling. I fell in love with that smile immediately and only love it more every day that I see it.

The nights where I was able to rock Connor to sleep were some of the most precious. And skin to skin time is just so sweet and special, I am so glad that we took the time to do that bonding with him. He loved it, and Adam and I loved it as well.

Month two was very busy for all of us. We had Christmas and New Years' travels all within a couple of weeks and it totally threw Connor off of his routine. It was great seeing family though and getting to see everyone in mine and Adam's family interacting with him. He is so loved. A little more of his personality started to shine through at the end of 2 months, and we began really getting to play with him with little toys. But mostly, he was like any other baby. Eat, poop, sleep. :)

During month 2 I started realizing that morning was definitely Connor's favorite time of the day. He always woke up in such a sweet mood and always gave me this biggest smile when I walked into his room. Lucky for us, around the 2nd month, he started sleeping through the night. I mean .. ALL THE WAY THROUGH. Some nights he would get 8-10 hours of sleep. Which was really good for Momma. Unfortunately, he didn't do it for long, like everyone warned me of. Now, he is waking up, but only once a night on our best nights. 

Month 3 was full of milestones. He was smiling more, (and we discovered an adorable dimple) and he even rolled over once. (Which turned out to be a total fluke, because he didn't do it again for another 2 months.) He did start a little babbling though and "laughing" which was more of a squeal at the time. Real laughing comes later. This was the time when I really started to notice that his hair was growing at a rapid pace and he was probably not going to lose it, like most babies do. He also started getting incredibly chunky.

During month 3, Connor started reaching and putting both hands on the sides of our faces. Sometimes he would pull me in close and give me sugars, and sometimes he would just study my face. It was the sweetest.

Month 4 we started experimenting with solid foods like cereal and applesauce. It was a busy month, filled with seeing family, going to a friends' wedding, and St. Pattys Day. Connor could finally stand on his own and hold his weight. His laugh turned into more of a giggle and his smile was contagious. Everywhere we went, people would tell me what a beautiful baby he was and how sweet his smile was. By the end of month 4 he was in the 90th percentile for babies his age with weight and height. He weighed 16 lbs and was 25 inches long.

At the end of month four, he really started discovering his mouth. And that turned out to mean a bunch of spit baths for me and Adam. He likes to blow bubbles and he thinks he is so funny when he gets it all in your face. He also started to get really ticklish during this month.

Every month has just been sweeter and sweeter than the last. Month 5 was really when I felt like his little personality completely formed and let me just say, he is going to be one funny kid! He loves to make us laugh and will do anything to do it. He is also such a cute little faker! He fake coughs, and does this funny thing where he opens his mouth and makes it look like he is cracking up, but nothing comes out. He also started getting to where he would push his toys off of the high chair tray when I wasn't looking. Sometimes I would turn around toward him and he had the funniest look on his face and his toy elephant would be right up to the edge before he would give it a little shove and a smile. That little stinker.

This was also the month when he started rolling everywhere and actually putting his arms around my neck when I carry him. Which, is my favorite! It is so precious to feel that hug. During this month his hair started getting extremely long and curly and more and more people started asking me how old "SHE" was. Ha! That doesn't bother me too much, because I know it just means that he has a  beautiful face. By the end of month 5 Connor was weighing a good 18-19 lbs.

We are now in the middle of month 6. And as you can see from the picture, Connor has started thinning out a little more and is still as tall as ever! I have a feeling he is going to be tall like his daddy and uncle Taylor. He has started shaking his rattle and he loves playing the little piano that belonged to me when I was a child. Last night, for the first time, he actually pulled his legs up and got on his hands and knees when laying on his stomach so crawling seems to be right around the corner!!

I love so many things about him. He is "talking" so much and I know I have heard him say Momma once or twice, but I don't count it since I can never get him to say it twice in a row. When we go for a ride in his stroller, he puts his arm up on the side and leans back just like he is "cruising". He is so funny. He has gotten to where he will wave back at you if you wave at him and his hair just keeps getting crazier and crazier so I see a trim in our near future. (I think I might cry!)

I love this phase of his life and I feel so incredibly blessed to be able to be at home with him every day to experience all of these firsts. I wouldn't trade this time for anything in the world.

Just a couple of weeks ago, we decided to move closer to Adam's job so that we could save a little gas money. So we found ourselves a cute little house that we now call home. I absolutely love it and I know that we are going to have some wonderful memories here.

Here are a few pictures:

{our backyard at sunset}

{the front porch}

{the kitchen is huge!} 

{can you spot my "pinterest" ideas??} :)

{Connor's room , not yet finished}

{Our little family}

Becoming a mother has completely changed my life. It's amazing how your priorities and views of the world change when you have a child. And you just come to terms with the fact that you are probably always going to be leaving the house with a little spit up on your shoulder, a little applesauce in your hair, and there will always be that moment on a date night when you pull in to your destination, start to brainstorm if you are going to get the baby out of the car seat or just take it all inside, and then tear up a little when you turn around and realize he isn't even with you. I know that these days are some of the most special days of my life and I try so hard to remember those precious moments as they happen.

... But our memory is a strange thing.

It stores the moments, pieces of ourselves ... of our story, that we never want to lose. And isn't it weird how we can't seem to remember important days in our lives, as much as we would like to, - for example- the day I graduated from College, but I can hear a song and remember the exact place that I was standing or sitting and the exact feeling I had in the pit of my stomach the first time I ever heard it?

It's strange.

I've come to the realization that one of my greatest fears is forgetting.

It terrifies me.

I don't want to forget voices of people I love, or important words spoken to me, but most of all, I don't want to forget the feelings I had during different stages of my life. Especially this one. I think that is why I take so many pictures of our life. Because I am not trying to capture what it looks like, I'm trying to capture what it feels like.

Recently, I have caught myself taking it all in ... on purpose. Like when I am holding Connor, and he does that thing where he reaches up and puts both hands on either side of my face. Comes in close until our faces are touching.

I intentionally stop that moment.
I breathe slower. I make my eyes memorize everything. His eyelashes. The color of his skin. I lift my head up and put my nose on his hair to breathe in the smell of his shampoo. And I say to myself ...

Don't forget this moment. Whatever you do. Please, don't forget this moment.

It's going to be gone in the blink of an eye. Some day before I can even begin to truly realize the blessing I have, he will be too big to hold. His hands won't fit on my cheeks the way they do now.

And I just can't let myself forget what this feels like.

One of "those" Moms.

Passing Judgement.

I did it all the time before I became a mother.

I can still hear those words ringing in my head. "I will NEVER be one of those moms....".

Yep. I said it.
And boy did I mean it.

I will never be one of those moms whose kid has on a dirty outfit when they go out in public.

I will never be one of those moms whose baby doesn't have on any socks when it is 50 degrees outside.

I will never be one of those moms whose child throws a screaming fit in the grocery store.

and yes, even this one -

I will NEVER, EVER be one of those moms who gets on Facebook and Pinterest and Blogs after I have a baby.

After all, I am supposed to be spending every waking moment with my child, right?

Well, let me just take this opportunity right now to publicly apologize to ANY and EVERY mother I have ever judged. My statements now seem quite ... comical.

And for those of you who are beating yourself up for things not going the perfect way you've always planned after you have a child, I'm here to tell you, IT'S OK.

IT'S OK that your child has on a dirty outfit. People are going to judge you. But they don't know that they left the house in a clean and cute outfit, only to spit up on it on the way to the store leaving you completely clueless because their car seat is turned backwards and apparently nobody in America can make a mirror to fit your seats so that you can see them. It is now dried, and there you are scrambling to get in the store while licking the only burp cloth you brought with you (filled with today's regurgitation) and scrubbing it like a mad woman to get it clean before you get to the entrance.

IT'S OK that your baby doesn't have on any socks. People are going to judge you. But they don't know that your baby is incredibly hot natured and just came in from sitting in a hot car seat that you tried your very best to keep cool by blasting your air conditioning all the way there and giving yourself frost bite.

IT'S OK that you are now that mom whose kid is throwing the crying screaming fit at the check out in the grocery store while you are completely frazzled, with 15 people in line behind you because none of the other bazillion lanes are open, while you juggle all of your items from the cart to the counter, smiling nervously, trying to dig for another pacifier in your diaper bag - other than the one you accidentally let fall on the ground earlier- all while sweating and running your fingers through your hair wondering "how long has this applesauce been in here?" People are going to judge you, but really, IT'S OK. They have no idea that you are just trying to pick up a few items along with your baby's medicine for his ear infection which is causing him to cry, on top of the fact that he's hungry because you just spent an extra hour in the doctors office that you didn't plan on.

And sure. You will be judged as soon as someone sees a post on facebook, a pin on pinterest, or a post on blogger. They will think - "don't they have a 4 month old baby to tend to?? Where do they get this time?" But it's OK.

They don't know that you are at home with your baby 24 hours a day talking in the most high pitched voice to ever be heard, making the silliest faces that you vowed you would never be caught dead making, listening to kids songs over and over that make you want to pull your hair out, all while constantly lifting a kid that weighs as much as kids 3 times his age, playing with toys that make music and beeping and buzzing and rattling sounds, switching from tummy time to on the knees, reading stories and going for walks in strollers, blowing raspberries on their tummies and dancing around looking absolutely ridiculous only to make them laugh... UNTIL you finally put them down for a nap... look around at your clean laundry, your picked up house, and your meat thawing for dinner and think - I'm going to grab some pretzels and a coke and get on ... ahh... pinterest.

Or in my case now, I'm going to rant in an unbelievably long blog post.

Or when your husband gets home from work and wants to get on the floor and play with them and you take a great shot that you want to post on facebook. It's ok that you took the time to do those things.

You see, it's true. Like the article floating around everywhere in social media this week says - Your kids want YOU.

But they don't want the cranky and stressed you. They don't want the frazzled and frustrated you.

They want the creative you. The inspired you. The motivated you.

And if that means taking the time when they are napping, playing with daddy, or whatever doesn't interfere with time you would be spending with them, and finding some inspiration, then I say go for it. Let everyone judge you.

Only you, God, and ultimately your child know how good of a mom you are. Nobody keeps a record of the times you sang them the Fruits of the Spirit song, took them outside and taught them about caterpillars and butterflies, or flew them around like an airplane while your back was killing you. Nope. No records of how much they've learned about music or colors, or how loved they feel. All that the judgemental and cynical people will remember is that dirty outfit, those sockless feet, that screaming fit, and that crazy long blog post. Poor neglected baby.

And that's OK.

Because what other people think never really mattered much to mothers and their children anyway.

LOVE DOES.

So be "one of those moms", and be ok with it. The kind that laughs while your kid squeals in a silent crowded restaurant. The kind that still thinks your baby is the most beautiful thing you've ever laid eyes on ... even with spit up on their onesie. The kind that takes time for themselves ... to find their inspiration and creativity to bring back to the day's activities. To pass on to your kids.

Be the kind of mom who raises a child to laugh and play and love and find beauty in everything, and that makes people wonder - How in the world did his mom have enough time to raise such an amazing kid?

P.s. This post was written while my child took a nap. Don't judge me. :-)

20 Things I Want To Teach My Son

I came across an article a couple of days ago called "15 Things Moms Should Teach Their Sons". Curious and definitely needing some guidance, I decided to click on the link and see what these 15 things were. Some of them were good, I will admit, but some of them were incredibly disheartening. There were a lot about safe sex and finding the "perfect job".

So I decided to make my own list of lessons. Not one that everyone else should follow, because I am definitely FAR from all of the answers. I'm new at this Mommy thing and I will most assuredly learn as I go. But this list is for me. These are the things I want to teach MY son, because I don't want my son to be just a "good man". I want him to be a Man of God.

20 Things I Want to Teach my Son:

1. People that try constantly to find happiness for themselves very seldom do. The people that truly make their goal in life to make others happy, often open the door to unexpectedly find happiness sitting on their own doorsteps.

2. You might be a business man, an athlete, or even a doctor. But the most IMPORTANT thing you will ever be, is the spiritual leader of your home.

3. You don't "become a man" based on the size of your muscles, the size of your truck, or how old you are when you get your first kiss. You become a man based on your character, your integrity, and your priorities.

4. The world is lying when they say that men cannot be sensitive AND strong. Compassionate AND brave. The bravest man to ever walk this earth, wept.

5. Make good on your word. If you say you are going to do something, DO IT. Don't let others down, you wouldn't want them to do that to you.

6. The best friends are going to be the ones that respect you when you say NO to something. Not the ones that make fun of you and try to pressure you.

7. Take the time to do charity work. It's good for the soul.

8. Be wise with your money. But don't live for material things. Everything we "own" is borrowed.

9. If a girl doesn't respect herself, she isn't going to respect you. If she constantly needs the wrong kind of attention, her issues run far deeper than the surface, and that is a tangled web. And if she doesn't hold you to your highest potential and help you be a better Christian, she is not the girl for you.

10. Never make a big decision without praying about it first.

11. Nothing, ... not movies, music, hobbies, NOTHING should take the place of studying God's Word.

12. If you want something bad enough, don't give up until you get it. I know, this one is cliche`, but if you have regrets, I want it to be because it was out of your control. Not because you gave up. That's an ache that will never go away.

13. You don't have to "sow your wild oats" like everyone will tell you. The road less traveled usually brings the greatest rewards.

14. Enjoy every day and be content with what you have. The grass isn't greener on the other side, and if appears that way it is probably because you've been too busy looking over the fence and haven't taken the time to take care of your own yard.

15. Whenever you see someone less fortunate than you, whether it be a homeless person or a disabled person, always say to yourself - "But by the grace of God, there goes I." My mother taught this to us and it has always helped me remember that I shouldn't complain because I could always have it much worse.

16. Try to stay healthy. Eat fruits and veggies and stay active. You don't want your body to break down on you long before you are ready.

17. You don't have to "live BIG" to have a good life. You don't have to have all of the finest things, travel to the most beautiful places, or attend the most elaborate parties. Sometimes the families who have it the best, are the ones who live humbly, give to those in need, sit around the dinner table, and kneel at night by their children's beds listening to them pray.

18. God made sex to be an enjoyable, beautiful, and SPIRITUAL experience. That is why you save it for your wife.

19. Don't let evil influences into your home. Even if you think they won't phase you. "For as he thinks in his heart, so he is." - Proverbs 23:7

20. One day, you will be coming up on 30, and wonder what you were doing for all of those years. Have an answer that makes you proud.

So that's my list.

What would you add?

The Incredible Story of Childbirth

The following page contains mature subject matter and is suitable for adults only.

Reader discretion is advised.

I've been so busy lately taking care of a newborn baby, that I totally skipped over my incredible story of childbirth here on my blog for all of my faithful readers. It's a doozy, so here, let me backtrack.

BLISS.

That is how I would describe the first 8 months of my pregnancy.

Pure bliss.

I had absolutely NO morning sickness. My body didn't ache one bit. I was still able to touch my toes. And my stomach ... well, I ended up with absolutely no stretch marks on my stomach after having Connor. To me, it was the PERFECT pregnancy.

That is, until the 8th month.

I blame it on the Flash Mob.

There I was, at our Relay For Life Leadership Summit in Dallas, and I, 8 months pregnant, was agreeing to be in my first flash mob ever. The weeks leading up to the event, I practiced over and over with my co-worker back in our boardroom, breaking a sweat, and showing her how to properly do the running man to that ridiculously annoying song - Party Rock Anthem. Yes, me. A BIG, FAT, PREGNANT LADY. Because I didn't feel bad, I didn't think it was having any effect whatsoever on my body. And at the event, when the music came on and we all gathered in the middle of a huge crowd, I got such a rush out of all of their surprised faces, that I busted a move like never before.

I also blame the fire alarm.

At 2 in the morning in our hotel the fire alarm went off and I, again an 8 month fat pregnant lady, had to walk down 18 flights of stairs half asleep because of a false alarm.

I think both of those things contributed to the most excruciating final month of pregnancy ever recorded.

Ok. So not really, but close.

I was driving back to Tyler from a Board meeting and all of a sudden I was having back pain like I had never felt before. I pulled my car over on the side of the road and attempted to step out. When I was unable to stand up straight, I knew then that something was terribly wrong, so I got my cell phone and called Adam.

I thought I was in labor.

Turns out, I was.

Kind of.

Pre-term labor. I was having full on contractions but was told at the hospital that this was NORMAL and to just wait for the baby.

NORMAL???

A whole month of full on contractions? I don't think so.

A few days went on and I was back in labor and delivery in the hospital. Long story short, I had all kinds of complications. First, the doctors thought there was a kidney stone that they tried to flush out with fluid. Unfortunately, they forgot to turn the IV down and they filled my lungs up with fluid. That wasn't the only thing that filled up. Here is a picture of my foot after they pumped me too full. The one on the left is my regular "pregnant foot" and the one on the right is what they did to me at the hospital.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is all FLUID.

After my lungs were filled, I ended up with pneumonia. So there I am, 8 months pregnant, having contractions, possibly a kidney stone, and pneumonia. My pain was so intense that they were also pumping me full of morphine. This caused the baby's heartbeat to slow down dramatically, so I insisted that they no longer give me that type of medicine.

When I had been in the hospital for a full week and there was nothing else the doctors could do for me, they sent me home.

With Tylenol.

[You gotta love that.]

This last month was a nightmare. I had such awful pains in my back that I could not sleep. I remember sitting up all night watching I Love Lucy over and over again praying that this child would just come already.

And fortunately, I didn't have to wait the full month.

2 weeks later (the longest 2 weeks of my life, I might add), my water broke.

But here's the best part. This is the part where I talk about how much faith I have in some of the doctors here in our town.

[That was sarcasm.]

I call my doctor on FRIDAY morning and let her know that my water broke the night before. So she has me come in so she can check me and see what is going on.

"Nope", she tells me.

"Your water didn't break."

"Maybe you just peed on yourself."

Yep. I kid you not. That's what she told me.

I sit, looking at her like she was a crazy woman, biting my tongue, and thinking to myself -

I absolutely know my water just broke.... You crazy woman.

So home I go. AGAIN. Wondering if every other woman in the world has to go through the same things I am experiencing. Friday night goes by, ...and then Saturday morning,... and finally at about 5pm on Saturday night my contractions get 5 minutes apart.

Up we go to the hospital and I remember thinking - "If they send me home again, I am going to set up camp in the parking lot and I'm not leaving until I have this baby!!!"

But they didn't. I was ready and he was ready and this was it.

Sunday, about 26 hours after I had originally started having bad contractions again, 3 days after my water broke, ... I was finally ready to have this baby.

And this is where the story gets funny.

I've never witnessed child birth. All I have seen is what is in the movies. And you know, in the movies, the woman gives a good 2 or so pushes and there is the baby! I, on the other hand, did not have any pitocin (which most women have to speed up child birth), had already had my epidural for a good 13 hours (so I'm pretty sure I could feel everything by this time), and on top of all of that ... had a completely dry birth because no thanks to my doctor, my water had been broken for 3 DAYS!!!!!

Needless to say, I pushed for 2 and a half hours.

I pushed so hard that I gave myself a black eye. I felt like what I imagine it would feel like when you just finished a triathlon.

It turns out ... all of the pain I felt was from sciatica and the dry birth is known as premature rupturing of the membranes. Yep. They have scientific names for this stuff. 

Was it the most INSANE final month of pregnancy and childbirth that I could have ever imagined?

YES.

But was it worth every minute?

Absolutely.

Nothing in my lifetime will ever compare to the moment that the doctor laid that precious baby on my chest. He hadn't been cleaned off yet, and I didn't even care. I was overwhelmed. I remember tears running down into my ears.

The moment that I held that little boy for the first time, it was like everything in my entire life that had ever broken my heart was all wiped away. And it's true what they say. I'd go through every bit of it all over again, just for one time for him to smile at me.

And so THAT, is my incredible story of childbirth.

It's not pretty, I know. But it sure did give me a beautiful baby boy.