Dusty Boxes, Waiting Hearts

We are finally weeks away from getting into our new home. We have been busy planning paint, updates, and pinteresting ideas to make our home beautiful. Well. I pinterest. Mike looks patiently at my list of projects and reminds me there are only 24 hours in a day. 

Our home is beautiful. I can't wait to live there. It feels happy, clean, and peaceful. That is thanks to the family that has been there, building memories and raising a home of happy, active kids. Our hope is to keep that same feeling there always. 

The yard is fenced, with a basketball court, playhouse, and soft grass- its a child's dream. I have big plans for the kids rooms and playroom. Its perfect. It's cozy. Its where we plan to be for a long long time. Our kids are so excited. 

Our boxes are packed. We never really unpacked once we left Georgia. They are sitting in storage, waiting to be carefully arranged in our new home. There isn't a whole lot of interior storage space, so anything we don't use daily will be stored in the garage or shed. I'm mentally sorting the boxes now.

I have a beautiful dark wood crib I picked out for Beckett. I already gave Emma's crib to a friend (assuming that we may not ever get lucky enough to have two babies in our home again). But I couldn't bare to part with both. In fact, I have boxes of baby treasures I have been saving over the years. Tiny pajamas, little tubs and toys. Soft blankets, my favorite carseat and stroller... As we were leaving Georgia I couldn't help but peek in these special boxes and pray we would need to pull them out soon. My hopes were high. I could still smell traces of that sweet baby smell as my fingers sifted through the soft baby clothes. 

I can't help but remember bath-times, long nights, and first smiles. Memories rush back, memories held back with the sadness are finally allowed in all their tender power. 

These tiny items hold so many memories of my life's happiness. They are invaluable. Carefully sorted and packed, I cannot bear the thought of burying them in storage among holiday decorations. Imagining these boxes, and my dreams, gathering dust in a dark shed makes me want to cry. Makes me actually cry. 

What really breaks my heart is knowing that my heart is not the only one waiting. Somewhere out there is a mother who is waiting too. We are both waiting for a baby. We are both mothers. We will both be changed forever. I know in my heart that there is a mother and a baby who are waiting for us, just as we are waiting for them. The world is too big, our circles too small- but somehow I know we will find each other. We just might need a little help. But I won't stop looking, because I know somewhere their hearts are waiting too. Waiting for peace, waiting for love. 

So wherever our birth-mother is, and whatever she is going through we are here. We are ready. I am here to help you through what may be the most difficult thing you have ever gone through. You are not alone. I promise I will love our child always, just as you will. Always. 

Bittersweet

The days are getting shorter. Little shadows stretch out long across the grass and leaves. Its fall and there is a chill in the air, but the sun is warm on our skin as we play in the yard. I could be fixing dinner. Or folding the laundry that has been sitting in a basket for two days. I could be finishing a paper. Shopping. Cleaning. The list goes on and on. 

But we stay outside. This is my favorite time of year. And my kids are in what may be my favorite stage ever. We are soaking in every moment. 

There are bedtime secrets. Sword fights. Stories. Endless hide and seek. Naptime. Bathtime. Their cheeks are rosy, eyes bright. Their imaginations and feet run wildly from morning to night. There are moments, daily, that are so tender I have to choke back tears. I'm afraid I'll forget. Forget the silly things they say, how tiny their hands are, how it feels to be their mom. I used to journal daily, but those days have long been pushed aside, giving way to an array of other activities. There are pictures and videos, but I have yet to figure out how to capture the spontaneity, the laughter, the essence of childhood- especially without getting distracted by the internet at my fingertips. I want to stop the clock, and at the very same time cannot wait to see what is coming next. It is bittersweet to watch the days pass.

We are blessed beyond my wildest dreams, and yet the desire for another child is an unrelenting ache. I have so much it feels ungrateful to ask for more- and yet I beg. Our hearts are filled to the brim with love for our family, and yet there is room for a child who's face I dream of. This too is bittersweet. 

I'm not really a fan of chocolate. But I am a fan of The Office. When Mike and I were first married we saved our pennies and wedding money to buy as many seasons as we could. We have watched them over and over. My memories of the Office are all tied up in our first summer together, "sick" days on the couch, and hours of late night cuddling together rocking new babies. But I digress. In the words of Michael Scott "I guess this is what they call a bittersweet moment...That's what I hate bittersweet chocolate. I don't even... what's the point of that? Why not just sweet?".

But here is the thing. The years we spent praying, and waiting for our two tiny miracles have made me ever grateful. I'm not sure I would have treasured every moment this way had it not been so hard won. So while there is a small part of me that just wishes it could be all sweet, all fun, all the time- I don't think I'd be so happy. Isn't that a weird thought? And yet I keep thinking, there is joy in wanting. The wanting makes the having all worthwhile. The bitter is what makes the sweet. 

I guess in this warm sun and cool breeze, listening to the laughter of innocence and childhood, and contemplating life (as I can never quite manage to quiet my mind) I have but one conclusion. There is a God. He knows me, and He loves me. In the crunch of autumn leaves and the kiss of my daughter I cannot help but know He is there. I know it as surely as I know anything. My son's small hand in mine, singing as we walk, I am overwhelmed with love. Both the love received and love given. The words "For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things." (2 Nephi 2:11) come to my mind. The promise that my family is mine forever cradles my heart with tender hope and empowering protection.

To have truth rooted in my heart brings me immeasurable peace. The craziness of the world, my own personal struggles, the business of life- all slide into perspective as I focus on my faith. It is so simple, my faith. But, everything treasured in my heart tonight are small and simple things. But these small things are my everything. 

A New Year

I think the first mistake I made was asking the wrong question. 

Perhaps I should have asked myself "what do you want to achieve"? Or perhaps, "who do you want to become"? But no. When it came time to consider the hopes and desires I have for the year to come, I asked myself

 "What do I want". 

Not surprisingly, I had quite a list of things I want. Mainly: I want to be home, I want to be rich, and I want to be happier. 

Less surprising, was the fact that of those three main wishes of my heart, only one is within reach. And its the one I want as a gift, not a goal. I'll give you a hint, its the last one. 

Well, then I was really in a predicament. I was all worked up and excited about making this year amazing, and now I was faced with an internal dilemma. Which, lets be honest here, is the hardest kind. In a fight with yourself who wins? Who loses? 

Lets look at what I just did here. I love my job, but I wish it could wait until my kids are older. And if I quit to stay home (my first wish) we will be the opposite of rich (my second wish). If Mike and I both focus on work, pick up extra hours etc, we would never be home. That, is a conundrum if I ever saw one. 

Which leaves me with my final wish. Happiness. Which I have in spades, and yet I find myself wanting more. More and more. How can I have it if I don't get the other things I want? I cannot make myself happy, I can pretend sure, but fake it till you make it is just a facade.  

After weeks of wrestling with my life and realizing the ever true "you can have anything you want, but you can't have it all" I was exhausted and so was Mike (from listening to me). I was so mad that I couldn't make life give me what I want. That no matter how flexible I was going to be I could not find a solution to my conundrum. It just maddens me that I couldn't have what I wanted right now. 

So there I was. Mad. And stuck. Ever been there? Me too. So I had no choice but to work backwards on my New Year's Resolutions. I want to be happier, that's what I am going for this year. Time to ask the right question "what do I need to do/become/be to achieve my goal". Now I was cooking. I was on fire. Focused. It took almost no time to fill a page with ways to be happy, and moments more to turn them into goals. Here are the things that bring happiness to my life and what I'm going to do about them:

*Spending time with Mike--------- Date night twice a month. Alone, out of the house. 

*Time with my kids------Focus on quality, reading, imaginative play, and teaching. Daily. 

*Exercise---------Just do it. 30 min x 5 days/week. (I've been working up to this for months, once a few short months ago I never could have made it. This is a build up goal)

Notice anything? These are nothing fancy. This is just living my life, the way I already know I should. These are just things I need to do MORE of. But I was missing one small but essential piece. 

I'm a Mormon. I LOVE my faith, it is what gets me going, gets me through, and gives me perspective. And while I had my day of questioning, I have long since become unshakable. Nevertheless, sometimes I take for granted how much of a difference my simple faith makes in my daily life. It makes all the difference. So I added one more goal, the key really:

*Read the Book Of Mormon. Every day. (If you are like whaaaaa? Click here.)

Do you want to know how its going? I am home when I am home, because I am at peace. I feel richer, truly, because I remember what is really of value. And I am happier. Already. This isn't a goal that has taken weeks or months for a payoff. It was immediate. 

I definitely asked the wrong question first. But thankfully I course corrected and just checked in to what I believe. I'm pretty lucky, I have a wonderful and blessed life. But if you are anything like me, and your life is great and you were still looking for something, try looking here. Who am I to tell you what will bring you what you want this year. All I know is that if you can't seem to find what you want, or want what you have, its worth a shot. Time and time again I have turned to my faith and been uplifted. My highs and my lows are higher. My joy lasts longer, and my life is peaceful. 

I'm really excited about this year. I can't wait to potty train the kids (for real. soon.), paint our table, make our house a home, go on a cruise with my lover (who, by the way, is also my husband. just to be clear), and, if we are really lucky, get pregnant. Its going to be a great year. 
I can't wait!

                                                         

A Love For All Seasons

It's all fine and dandy to be all in love and on top of the world. Yeah for young, "honeymoon" love. While you may think you read sarcasm in that, I promise its not there. I love love. Hand holding, cuddling, dating, all the cheesey stuff- I love it. For real.

But since this is my blog, about my life, and I'm not in a honeymoon phase of anything right now- I'm not going to write about that.

But I am going to write about love, and dedicate it to my love. So Mike, this is for you.

Thank you. Thank you for holding my hand when you would probably rather wring my neck. Thank you for doing the laundry so I can spend time with the kids during the week. Thank you for cleaning up the dishes at night. Thank you for listening to me when I'm saying what I've already said a hundred times. It means the world to me that you care about my happiness. Thank you for all of the little things you are doing to try to ease my load. I know you hear about the things you aren't doing- and I need to be better about telling you how much I appreciate all you do. Thank you for loving me when I take you for granted.

You are an amazing dad. The best I have ever seen. Sure you don't always do things the way I would- and I know I get on you about that. But when I see the way you are with the kids, and I see how lucky they are to have you, all that little stuff just doesn't matter anymore. I don't tell you that enough. Thank you for loving me when I am ungrateful.

Thank you for loving me enough to overlook the smudges of yesterday's makeup and kiss me before I've brushed my teeth. Thank you for holding me close even if I choose to stay in my sweats all day. There is no one in the world more important to me than you- yet it's you who constantly see's me at my worst. Its you who gets the brunt of my fatigue and stress. And yet even when I know you've heard me complain, you hear me out again. You take the snappiness, the edginess, and the whining. Sometimes I'm in over my head- thank you for hearing me out and sticking by me when I'm a pain.

I know how much you hate it when I'm struggling. Not because you hate the aftermath of a struggle, but because no matter what we are going through I know I matter to you. I know you love me when I'm on top of the world, and I love everything, and I'm on my game. But thank you for not walking away when I'm on the verge of tears, and I'm telling you I don't know if I can do any more.

The whole idea of loving each other through thick and thin, "for better or worse" has gone away. Its easy to love the "thick" and the "better". But you are my rock through my thin, and worse. And I love you for it. Maybe not love in the crazy, excited, lovestruck way I sometimes love you. But in a very deep, dark, quiet, near to my heart kind of way. It may not feel like it, and it may not look like it- but I love you more than I ever have.

When we got married, it was an act of faith. I loved you sure, but a lot of what I was marrying you for was the promise, the hope. I hoped you would come through for me, be there for me, and turn into the husband and father of my dreams. We have a ways to go yet- sure. But you are the husband of my dreams. You have earned it. I have confidence in you coming through, because you have. I know the laundry, dishes, bills, work, and life as we know it are not exactly conducive to romance- at least not in the typical sense. There really isn't anything sexy and exciting about being tired, and walking though piles of kids toys. But know this- I love you more than ever. You are my everything. Someday our life will change and we'll enter a new phase. Who knows whats coming. I sure don't. But I wouldn't change or trade any of it- not for a minute. Like it or not, you are stuck with me because you have proven to be everything I had hoped and dreamed you would.
I love you.

I LOVE YOU. Maybe that is what has really changed. Maybe I'm in love with love less, and in love with you more. Maybe I was a bit in love with the dating, and whirlwind of gestures we had time for. Who wouldn't love that? I'm grateful we had all that romance and energy to get us going. But what is going to get us through now is the incredible respect and deep appreciation I have for you. You are still my best friend, and though we may have less time now, you are still the one I can't wait to talk to and spend time with. If I had to go through the challenges of life, and I'm pretty sure there is no way around them, I am glad its you by my side. So with all of my heart, I love you. For better and worse, and everything in between.

And to those of you who are newly married- don't panic- but at some point life is going to get hard. It will whether you are married or not. Its just how life is. If you are lucky enough to have someone by your side, don't worry, its not that the romance is gone forever, or that you aren't right for each other. Hang in there. You will have disagreements, challenges, and outright fights. What, he didn't bring you flowers today? Big whoop. She doesn't get sports? Whatever. You will be okay, work it out. I'm not through to the other side of anything, so I can't tell you it gets easier. But the love gets deeper. And its worth every minute.

Maybe mother nature had it right all along. Maybe its not supposed to be spring all the time. Maybe what makes spring springy, is the winter. Maybe love has its seasons too.

Thin

I can't say that since the dawn of puberty I have known much about what it is like to be thin. Not that I have ever been devastatingly obese, but I have pretty much been on a diet (if not physically, then mentally) since I was about 13. All in the name of being thin. Its just something I really wanted. 
  
Maybe part of the problem is that I was a gangly youth, so I came into adulthood with certain expectations. Maybe part of the problem is that I was an aspiring dancer in a regular teenage body. 
Whatever the reason, I have always admired the thinner, leaner body I can only dream of. 

But lately when I see thin, I have a slightly different reaction. I almost feel aggravated. Not at them, for them. I just want to yell "eat something", "gosh dangit, quit living at the gym". This is totally made up, as most of the time I have no personal insight whatsoever. I'm judging a book by its cover, so to speak. Because "thin" has come to mean something akin to deprivation to me. Weird right?

I can't help it. Perhaps not my body, but my life is thin right now. I've cut the fat and the fun out, added a few extra hours of workouts, and portioned the heck out of my days. And for whatever reason, when I think about my life, it feels thin. And I'll tell you what, if this is what thin is really like- I'm over it.

Thin feels like never enough. Not enough time, laundry never done, always saying no. Always less. Never ever enough. 

Now, lest you think I hate my life, I don't. I am very very grateful for my wonderful husband, and endlessly adorable toddlers. I have a fantastic job, that was (even when I forget) an answer to prayer. The problem is, I want incompatible things. Mike always quotes "You can have anything you want in life, but you can't have it all". While I want to argue it, I have to say its true. I don't buy it, you cannot have it all. Nobody can, nobody does. 

Having always been a stay at home mom, I've always thought it a tad self-serving for women to go back to work with small children at home. Perhaps because we hear things like "income", or "self-fulfillment"and we assume those were primary reasons to resume working. But finding myself on the other side of life these days, I eat my unspoken, judgemental words. While I may have an additional income, it is of necessity not frivolity. While I tell myself, and others, that there is self-fulfillment, I am also desperately missing being home. And while I make no claims to know why women work, I can tell you that the vast majority of women I know and work with, are torn. And when I ask them if its gets better, they offer support and encouragement but the answer is always "no". 

Its unfortunate that thin is in. I hate it. I'm mad. I'm mad at the expectations I have. Wherever they came from, I'm MAD that I feel like I need to work out, and make money, and play educationally with my kids, and make the meals, and DIY my house, and get all of the errands done, keep the house immaculate and be nice. Oh, and squeeze in some service and put on mascara. ARE YOU KIDDING ME WORLD!!! WHO DOES THAT??? THERE ARE ONLY 24 HOURS IN A DAY. No matter where you live, work, or how many kids you have.

I know some awesome women. Most of them have really got a few things down, and no insult to any of them, but none of them are doing it all. Though I have to say, some people are tricky, and it really looks like they can do it all. But who are we trying to impress? Our friend? Who is (if the are like me) frantically trying to tidy up if you are on your way, jump out of her sweats before you catch her, vacuum up the house like her kids don't eat in the living room... 

Maybe its not about thin after all. I don't know, I'm still convinced that thin is overrated. And maybe most of you out there have got this down. But I'll tell you what, I have way to many expectations and they are falling short. And I'm getting tired of it. And in all reality I'm pretty well balanced, and have great support systems, and I'm still feeling a ridiculous amount of pressure. And while I have yet to  figure out where this pressure is coming from, when I do I will karate punch the heck out of it. That will teach it to mess with me. 

Cicada Lullaby

There are some things I am still getting used to here in the south. Many of those things are insects, and to be honest I'm not so sure I'll ever get used to them. At least not the cockroaches. I did however fall in love with the twinkling of fireflies in our backyard every evening this summer! And while at first the extraordinarily loud communications of our local katydids drove me nuts, I have grown accustomed to their nighttime racket. 

Anyway, last night I fell asleep to the song of the cicada. Its a beautiful name for a terribly ugly bug. Never in a million years did I think I would find enjoyment in that sound. But last night I did. 

Do you know why? Because Emma fell asleep in less that 5 minutes, and before 8pm last night. My kids have always been good sleepers, especially Beckett. Until I went back to work (which I did one month and five days ago). I wrestled and wrestled with going back to work. Haha, remember this post? Well, right after that I got a job offer. And lets be honest, two years our of school with no work- that was nothing short of a miracle. But if I have learned anything in my life it is that my prayers are always answered. So pray I did. And then I took the job. And then my whole world fell apart, or at least in some ways it felt like it.

I'd be lying if I said it was easy. When I tell people I have gone back to work they say things like "it must be so nice to have adult conversations again", or "I bet you just love using your skills", or "I think its better for you and your kids if you work, you'll be a better mom when you are home". And maybe those things are true. I am a very good nurse, and I worked hard to get there. But the truth is that I have loved being a mom, a stay at home mom, more than I ever could have imagined.

Every single day I miss my kids. And its been 5 weeks. This summer was the happiest I have ever been. I loved every day of our life. I had time with the kids, time to work out and organize our life, time to spend with my hubby at night... I miss Mike. I'm gone on the weekends a lot now. And soon I'll be working nights, and I hate sleeping alone. I've called my mom and sisters crying on occasion, because my heart feels broken into tiny pieces when my kids are sad. And while they really love the sitter we have, they really miss their mom.

For example, last week I was exhausted and trying to get Emma down. She was really getting on my nerves, and although I don't spank my kids I was contemplating it. So I got my fierce voice and sternly told Emma "Do you want me to spank you"! And you know what she said? Through her tears she choked out "Yes. Please spank me. Hold me please. Spank me please. Mommy please hold me". My little 20lb, tear streaked daughter would rather I yell or hit her than be alone. I questioned a lot of things that night. 

I kept telling myself it would get better. 

And then it got worse. Especially for Emma. 

I think Heavenly Father knew I was reaching the brink. I think He knows me very well, and I know He must be aching for Emma too. So last night Mike gave Emma a blessing. And we put her to bed. And then we stood outside her door, holding hands and crying (okay. Emma & I were the ones crying, but it was just because I can't stand to hear her scream "mommy please don't leave me, please hold me, mommy please"). And then we waited. It took only four minutes and seventeen seconds for her to fall asleep last night. Tonight was only one minute, eleven seconds. 

So I went to bed early. I'm nursing a cold, and I'm completely emotionally and physically exhausted from the last few months of our life. We all are. Its been a big adjustment for our whole family. And while I was laying there, I heard the ciada's song. And my daughter and I slept peacefully through the entire night. 

Its a simple thing, sleeping through the night. But sometimes its the little things that mean the most. And last night what meant the most to me was the sound of gentle breathing over the monitor and the lullaby of a horribly creepy bug. Absolute bliss. 

Outfit of the Day

Actually, this is about yesterday's outfit. Because I'm not dressed yet today. What!? It's almost NOON! Yes, embarrassing I know. But I'm too tired to work out before the kids get up, so we do it all together. And then I shower during nap time. So I won't be dressed for approximately one and a half hours. And by then I will be too busy to blog. So yesterday it is.

Oh, and I didn't take pictures. I think its better left to the imagination.

So on to what I wore yesterday:
I started out in mismatched workout clothes. Big baggy tee shirt, and Mike's old high school basketball shorts. You see, I had two goals. Day one of potty training, and squeeze in a workout. HAHA! Potty training two? At the same time? Wouldn't have been so bad if Emma wasn't also simultaneously throwing up, oh yeah, and she had the runs. By 9am, I am sweaty (though I still haven't worked out) and have drops of pee on my shorts from running the kids to the toilet whilst they leak onto the floor. Emma is back in her diaper by 11.

While kids napped, I worked out and showered, and assembled my second outfit of the day. On the bottom I have the dark wash skinny jeans my sister bought me for my birthday last year, that I have cut into shorts. I may regret that come winter, but one thing at a time. They are covered in flour, because I wore them on Saturday and made...I can't remember what I made. Something with flour in it, obviously. And on top I have a tee shirt that I bought at Old Navy recently. I actually really like it, and its clean. I didn't have time to do much with my hair because a sudden storm woke Beckett up early from his nap. I never bothered to put on any accessories either. Or shoes. But I do have light makeup on, and my toes are painted barbie pink (just like Emma's, it something we do every weekend together).

By the end of the day, I have smudges on my shoulders from where the kids have snuggled up and left the remains of snack time. We had peach yogurt, and chocolate graham crackers for snack. These colors are a lovely contrast to my white/green polka dot shirt. Oh, and I have more smudges on my pants now. Some are from cleaning out the vacuum (it was a mess), and some are from trying to take the kids out (after rain? what was I thinking!) and muddy feet brushing my shorts. But it kind of matches the smudges on my shirt, so its okay. Well, actually, they don't match at all. But its still okay.

Also, I had braided my bangs (which I am growing out for the one-millionth time because I keep forgetting that I have curls and cowlicks) but Beckett pulled a few strands loose. So now its kind of a giant bubble on the side of my head. With a few loose wisps. Kind of a wind blown, toddler style hair day.

This is how I look when Mike comes home after a very, very long day at work.

And do you know what he tells me?

"You are so beautiful, you look gorgeous. I really missed you today", and then he kisses me.

And that is when I knew, I must have worn exactly the right outfit. If I can get the hottest guy on earth to notice me after a day like yesterday....I must have done something right. After all, the point of dressing up (for me at least) is to feel good and attract attention. And the only guy whose opinion matters, was totally into me. Now THAT is a success! And THAT is why I decided to share my outfit of the day :)

One of my hero's is the late Majorie Pay Hinkley. She is just super inspirational, and I think she and her husband had the most awesome relationship. Anyway, one of my favorite quotes is by her, and it fits today perfectly:

“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails.
I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.” 

 

Amen.

In other news, potty training is on hold until there is a cessation of extra bodily fluids (B started in with the runs by the afternoon). Hopefully in a day or two. Or maybe in a few months. I have to think it through again. And I promise I am working on the Adoption Q&A. It takes a lot more mental/emotional energy and time than I normally devote to writing. But it is coming. Oh yes, and I just remembered, the thing I made on Saturday with flour was actually the pizza I made for dinner on Friday!

A Bientot!