Thursday, September 14, 2017

The hardest thing I've ever done...

The hardest thing I've ever done. 

I'm certain I've said this about many other things in my life. But this time, it's true. Maybe my emotions are everywhere. Maybe my body isn't healing as quickly as I think it should. Maybe somewhere along the way I got too big for my britches and thought, "Hey, I got this." 

Truth is. I don't have this. It's freaking hard. I can't even pick up my 2 year old because the newborn jacked up my body. And she doesn't understand that. And he's so stinking cute that I would totally do it again tomorrow for him. Well, maybe not tomorrow. That seems painful. But you get the point. 

But I sit here and complain, and feel sorry for myself, and apologize to Ben because I think I should be more of a super woman than I am... and honestly, what I should be doing is praying. Thanking God for two beautiful and healthy children. Two pretty much seamless deliveries. One husband that gets my medicine so I don't OD on something and doesn't judge when I tell him to go to the store because my tots need cabbage on them STAT. (Sorry, too much?) 

Mothering two kids is freaking hard. Especially when you're not at 100%. I can't imagine being the Father to the world... facing the enemy head on, and doing so with little complaint while many hate you and your body takes an actual beating. 

I am able to love my kids fiercely because He first loved me. 

For that, I am forever grateful. 

Genesis 2:7 Then the Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground. He breathed the breath of life into the man’s nostrils, and the man became a living person.

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

I am sorry to have done that to you...

Be still my heart.

I planned to spend an entire day with you. Loving you and telling you over and over how much you mean to me. How just because I was bringing another baby into the world wouldn't change our relationship as you know it. How you were gaining a great responsibility and how I knew you would protect him like he was yours. 

Instead, I left in the middle of the night. Likely, by the time you wake, your little life will have forever changed. I'm sorry to have done that to you when I know you don't understand. 

I pray you love him. I pray you don't hold it against me. Most importantly I pray that you know exactly how much I have loved every single moment of all 1,000+ days I've gotten to have you as an only child. 

Sunday, July 23, 2017

A letter to my first born before my second is born...

In a very short amount of time, our family will welcome a sweet, squishy, baby boy. And just like that, I will take your beautiful world and inevitably turn it upside down. The mixed emotions of joy and pain fill me up. I see glimpses of the big sister you will be when you take care of your dolls and read them bed time stories. My heart melts knowing that you are a "mama bear" and that you will love and protect him.  At the same time, my heart aches knowing you will no longer get my undivided attention. The only attention you've ever known. 

I need you to know that you're my person. You're the one that made me "mom." You're the first to hear my heartbeat on the inside. You will always be my baby girl. 

I'm equally as torn knowing Baker will never have the undivided attention I once gave you. But he won't know the difference. You will. 

My biggest prayer for you is for a tiny bit of  understanding. It's bound to be an understanding that I think you're too young to fully be capable of, but I pray that you know that my heart bursts with pride for you. That even though I may seem more distant in a few weeks, my mind is always on you. And I will help you grow into you're new and important role as "big sister" of our family. 

I look forward to my plans of weekly mommy/daughter dates that I hope we continue until you go off to college and then some. 

I know you will have questions. I know you may want to send him back. I promise to try and take those days one moment at a time... giving you the benefit of the doubt. 

You are going to do great things. I thank God for the time we've had as a family of 3. And I can't wait to see how He uses you when we become a family of 4. 

Until then... I will snuggle you as often as I possibly can. I will watch Moana or Barbie with you one thousand times a day. I will let you nap with me and I will let you eat popsicles for lunch...

You are my sun. My moon. And all of my stars. 

I love you. 

Monday, May 22, 2017


Parenting a toddler is not for the faint of heart. Mollie Kate is the exact definition of a sour patch kid. First she's sour... then she's sweet. I'm literally kept on my toes at all times. 

We are in that "I want to do it myself stage..." Except, then she decides she doesn't want to do it (whatever "it" is) at all so she plops down on the floor and has a total meltdown and no one knows why the hell (Can I say hell? I mean why not?) she's crying. 

Then.... she decides that MOMMY IS LIFE (🙌🏻) and we literally cannot get any closer to each other. We are usually just one big web of arms and legs wrapped around each other because that's how she calms down from whatever just caused the meltdown. 

Confused? Yea. Me too. 

Also, did I mention that daddy is not allowed to do anything? Not change her, bathe her, take her out of the bath, put her in a car seat, take her out of the car seat... everything is "mommy do it."  He is allowed to get her milk... but that's about it. 

Poor daddy. Really, he wants to help. And mommy is freaking exhausted. 

And then like clockwork, I put her to bed... because "mommy do it" and I instantly miss her. Geesh. This household is just a big ball of hormones. Thankful daddy is getting a little guy in September to balance out the crazy. 

Again, toddler life... send help...and in September, send ALL the wine. 

I wonder if I myself seem like a sour patch kid to God? On Sundays I dwell in His house, praising His name and by Monday at 3:00 PM I'm falling on the floor in a tantrum because "I don't want to adult anymore." I'm thankful for His forgiving nature. I'm thankful that no matter how "sour" I am being, He welcomes me with open arms to try again. Every day is made new. My prayer is that no matter how frustrated my mama heart can get, no matter how exhausted I am, my kids know that they are my world... their sourness will never push me away. I will always hold them while they come out of a meltdown and encourage them to try again tomorrow...

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. 

—1 Peter 5:5–6


Thursday, May 11, 2017

Feeling mediocre

Warning: pity party and sappy post ahead-read with caution

I'm beating myself up. I keep telling myself how mediocre I'm being. Mediocre wife, mediocre at my job, even mediocre mom... 

To be honest, I haven't felt very good for a few weeks. After 13 weeks of baby nausea... I was feeling pretty good for a while with the exception of some minor pregnancy aches and pains and then BAM. Bronchitis. It's not the biggest deal in the world, obviously, but has left me feeling way less than 100% and often leaves me running a slight fever which knocks me down harder than it should. Mix in the end of the school year chaos, a husband trying to work full time, coach, finish school, work a second job, etc... and #toddlerlife... who by the way is also sick... I'm basically useless. Ben does 95% of the things around the house. Either I'm too tired or legit don't care enough that the house is completely filthy...either way, it's basically up to him if the house is even straightened up throughout the week. I'm surviving. And keeping the toddler alive. And I guess completing the important task of keeping myself and the baby alive too...  

Anyways, all of this to say, he could judge me. He could think "wow, she's pretty worthless." But he doesn't. He tells me to get in bed. He tells me he will make dinner. He tells me to get a bath and relax. 

I know Mother's Day is coming up this weekend. But he deserves the shoutout.  

Every trial, every error, every happy moment, and every victory, I think you're the best. And I know without a doubt I don't say it enough, but thank you. I love you more today than yesterday. And you still love me through all my mediocre moments... which is great because I said I would start dinner while you were at practice and I'm still laying in bed watching Caillou (which btw is the WORST.) 😘


Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. —PSALM 62:5


Sunday, April 23, 2017

Fear not.

Fear not. 

That's what the preacher man said today in church. But in my personal opinion, that's easier said than done when there are so many things in this world to fear. So many things you can't control. So many worries for a mama heart to worry. 

I couldn't help but think of some beautiful friends of mine who recently have endured a unimaginable pain. A pain that I truly cannot comprehend and pray that I will never have to. They have endured this pain with such grace... or at least that's what it looks like from the outside looking in. They have called on our God to help them walk through the fire.

In fact, she recently posted how God definitely gives you more than you can handle. And I believe that.  Today, in church, it was said that in times of pain, you come out changed. You may cling to God or you may pull away...but you are never left the same.  

Scott (our preacher) said this morning that someone's pain is not comparable to someone else's. I'm so glad. Because I have and do experience pain... things that I consider hard and tough, things that make me question God's path. I'm like, "You sure? Did I make a wrong turn somewhere.. this can't be what you had in mind..." But if we were comparing my "pain" to the pain others are feeling at this moment... it's nothing. But then again, it's pain just the same. The suffering of this couple has brought me to my knees pleading for God to show up. As a result, I crave him. Which I think is the point... 

Fear not. 

Bold words. 

But my God is bolder. 

You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. —PSALM 16:11 

Darling, may you always be fearless. 


Wednesday, February 22, 2017

A letter about food to my unborn child.

Dear little, tiny, beautiful baby inside my belly,

I love you. But you are grounded the moment you enter this world. (Don't worry, I said the same thing to your big sister.) 

Here's the deal. 

You don't like anything anything I feed you. ANYTHING. But you are so hungry. You need to eat so that you can grow and become strong and healthy. I need to eat so that I can survive, therefore you can survive. We cannot live off of... well, nothing. I know you're only 9 weeks or so in there, and you have a lot going on... but I'm going to need you to get it together. We need food like we need each other. 

Okay. I love you. Let's try again tomorrow. K? 

Your very hungry, very worn out, (did I mention hungry?)