My daughter won’t hear me tell her she has to “do it all.”
Instead, she’ll hear me ask God to keep guiding us both to do what we’re meant to do and be who we’re meant to be.
And she’ll see me doing my best trying to show her that we’re both better off doing what makes us feel genuinely happy —rather than endlessly finding ways to do all.of.the.things.
Your words matter.
They’re listening
even when you think they’re not.
Their eyes may be down,
but their ears are up.
She is gentle, yet fierce.
She is graceful, yet strong.
She is cautious, yet vivacious.
She is sweet, yet salty.
When God gives a girl a brother...
He gives her someone to play with—
someone to push cars with, to ride bikes with, and to dress up with.
And he gives her a hand to hold—
when she's afraid of the dark, nervous at the bus stop, or scared at the doctor.
Life with two toddlers is always an adventure.
Rarely on the same page, one is often “here” while the other is simultaneously “there.”
One is wide awake, ready to play...
The other is fast asleep after an award winning fight.
One is jumping with excitement over a new idea...
The other is hysterical on the floor because of a different idea.
One is singing songs in a sweet, soft voice...
The other is screaming dissent as loud as lungs will allow.
One is ready to cuddle, snuggle and rest...
The other pushes away and is busy being alone.
One is hungry and sits properly to eat what’s been made...
The other refuses to touch anything that is offered.
One wants to play together and to share toys...
The other wants to do something else—in solitude.
One wants to throw and catch a ball outside...
The other wants to color neatly between the lines at a table.
One wants the vanilla flavor, the berry fruit, the purple vitamin...
The other wants the chocolate flavor, the banana, the blue vitamin.
Life with two toddlers is never predictable—except that it’s always different in every moment.
Rarely on the same page, one is often “here” while the other is simultaneously “there.”
But me?
While I often find myself silently praying they’d get in sync during those times I can’t possibly meet both of their needs, I am trying my best to always be right there in the moment—neither truly here nor there, but rather somewhere ever-presently and whole-heartedly in the middle.
She says: I am nervous about giving birth.
Society says: That’s normal. Everything will be fine.
She says: I feel very scared to leave the hospital. I wish I could take these nurses with me.
Society says: That’s normal. You’ll figure it out.
My little girl,
You are too young to understand this now, but one day years from now you may find yourself looking for a man to marry.
And from now until that day comes I will pray to God above you’ll find someone who loves you the way your daddy loves me and who will love your children the way your daddy loves his.
Dear children,
It’s hard for me to put into words the beginning of a lifelong prayer that is being written in my heart for you as each day I watch you grow goes by—but I am going to try.
The baby steps are really the big steps.
My son stood in the sand—something not even that new to him—for quite some time.
From the outside, it didn’t look like he was doing much,
but on the inside, I knew that was far from the truth.
Motherhood has changed me.
I used to pride myself on my inability to sit still;
I identified with the need to move, think, and do— constantly.
And I continued to do so after my first born arrived...
until I kind of crumbled and just couldn’t anymore.
I always kind of cringe when I hear the question, “What is the best piece of advice you can give to a new mom?”
Every time, I try and think of the most profound and precisely put phrase of wisdom; yet, in the moment, I am almost never able to utter even a single word of clarity.
But, when I really think about it, I think it would be something along the lines of this:
recognize that this journey is the two of yours together—no one else’s—and that you really only get to do the dance once.
I spent an hour with a friend and her children today—an hour I didn’t realize how much I needed until it was over.
It was already one of those days for both of us so we took our children to the park very early in the morning.
We helped them on the slides, we pushed them on the swings, and we watched them build a sand castle...while we talked about all the things.
I know, mama—you feel like you got nothing done today.
It’s almost bedtime, yet the beds are still unmade from the morning.
It’s past dinner time, and the dishes from breakfast are still in the sink.
Parents, tell your children how much you love them, why you love them, and that you will never stop loving them any chance you get.
Tell your children what you see in them on so many days and in so many ways that they have no choice but to see it, too.
Read More“Why do you need to go to therapy? You seem so happy! What do you even talk about there?”
When my seeing a therapist comes up in conversation, I am often met with comments like this.
I used to feel a shade of shame and embarrassment knowing the implication here was that “unhappy” people are the ones that need therapy… and yet, there I was, returning to sessions week after week.
But now, years—many years—later, I have shed the shame and replaced it with love.
Self-love. Love that runs through me and floods out to my children. And I am proud of that.
Read MoreA moment in time.
In the moment, I wanted to cry.
I had just folded the clothes and put them away.
I had given the 10, 5, and 2 minute bedtime warning.
I was exhausted.
It hurts my heart.
I go in your room when you are sleeping and I see the change.
The toys—the rattles are now cars to push, the mobiles are now books to read.
The crib—it’s not so bare now, it has your favorite lovey and stuffed animal to hold.
The clothes—they’re not so tiny anymore, they are longer and wider and the snaps are gone.
Tonight, my three year old daughter wore her Elsa AND Anna dresses with her way too big, dress-up, pink high heel shoes on the wrong feet, three beaded necklaces, seven fancy hair ties worn as bracelets that made their way half way up her right arm, and a super sparkly purse perfectly placed over her shoulder.
She commanded, “ALEXA, PLAY FROZEN!” and when her trusty friend obeyed, she went near her and whispered, “Good girl, Alexa. Let’s dance.”
Read MoreDear NICU Mama,
I pray for you.
I don’t know you, but I was in your place once before, even if it was for just a short time.
I sat there in that chair you know so well either holding my little love or staring through the glass walls that protected him when I wasn’t able to hold him.
I pray for you.
Read MoreI am a 32-year-old middle-class, millennial mother of two and I call bullshit on this “millennial shame-game.”
According to many articles and memes that have recently inundated my newsfeed, there is an entire cohort of entitled, unmanageable, lazy, and narcissistic young people scuffing up the shiny gold standard of those who walked this Earth before them. And, apparently, I am one of them.
Now, I am not a politician, an economist, an analyst, or a sociologist studying the trends of generations. But, I am just like so many of you. I am a smart, well-educated, hard-working woman and a mother who loves her children more than anything else on this planet. And so, as I look back on my journey to where I am now and consider what I do every single day presently, I can honestly say that I would like to confidently and as politely as possible tell anyone who called me any of the adjectives listed above to please knock it off.
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