tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40416029589255179202024-03-13T12:28:31.115-07:00A and B + 1 makes 3Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-36923192846953136842020-03-24T18:46:00.001-07:002020-03-24T18:48:14.284-07:00Pregnant during a pandemic?? Gosh, it’s been a really long time since I’ve posted on here. I’ve thought about it a few times, but really didn’t have much to say. I’m a full time PreK teaching, mom of two, coach’s wife...oh and I’m in grad school. Oh yea and I’m pregnant again. So life is pretty boring. jk. <div><br></div><div>But in all seriousness... if I am being honest, my very little down time is spent aimlessly scrolling, texting friends back (sometimes...I really suck at that lately), and trying to sleep before the soon to be middle kid wakes up, or the elderly dog needs out...again. </div><div><br></div><div>But now. Now I have ALL the down time. We went on spring break and BAM, we aren’t returning until at least April 27th. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted some snow days. But not like this. “The Rona” pandemic is much more than we asked for, much more than anyone asked for. </div><div><br></div><div>I want to take a second and thank all of the “essentials” that are still up and running. You guys are the real MVPs. And all the ones out of jobs for now, I am so sorry this has happened to you. I love my service industry, hair, and nail friends, and so many more! To the gym people, you’re kicking ass and taking names online and it is proof that nothing can get us down. </div><div><br></div><div>I feel for the immune deficient friends and family and ones that I don’t even know that are suffering in unimaginable ways right now. Heck, even all of you who didn’t go into education that are now being forced to learn how we do what we do when we do (it.) (SOMEONE tell me they caught my Salt n Pepa reference there!) It’s not for the faint of heart, I tell ya! </div><div><br></div><div>But what I really want to talk about, is how it feels to be pregnant or expecting in some sort of way during this. I’m carrying my third child, from the get go my anxiety has been worse than ever before. So much so that I talked with my doctor and didn’t get off my meds because I didn’t think I could handle it. But now this. To be honest, I wasn’t scared of Covid-19. I followed the guidelines and hoped for the best, and then things started getting messier and I was able to read the severity of it all. In the US, pregnant women aren’t considered to be in the same “at risk” category as the elderly and autoimmune or immune deficient folks. And for that, I am somewhat glad, but every day there’s something new to learn about. This virus seems to be mutating. And to me, that is frightening. The unknown and the waiting is so much to take in and sometimes too much to take at all. Baker was tested for immune deficiencies and it came back fine, but if you’ve followed us at all, you know that kid gets the most random stuff. So I’m worried. And I’m worried about if I get it. And can it affect my baby or will it possibly mutate where it will affect the baby? And what if this is all still happening when I deliver the baby? I have big plans of going natural, but in my head, Ben, my mom, and Erica (doula bff) would all be there to help me through that. And as of right now, that wouldn’t be the case. I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. I have a lump in my throat and I cry pretty much every night around 7:00 with absolutely zero reasoning except I’m anxious and scared and tired and out of my comfort zone here. I guess what I’m saying is, if you’re scared or anxious, whoever you may be, solidarity. We don’t need to reason with it. We need to cast it all on Jesus. Because He already knows the outcome. </div><div><br></div><div>“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33</div><div><br></div><div><br><br><br></div><div><br></div><div><br><br><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-34861537579409639362018-11-25T20:39:00.001-08:002018-11-25T20:39:24.210-08:00Did I love her enough today?<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">A </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">week long Thanksgiving break is coming to an end. It came right after a week full of illness. So we have had an extreme amount of family time.</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">During said time, Mollie Kate has become an official stage 5 clinger. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">She’s always wanted me near by, but in the past 12 days, she has basically become another body part to me. And here’s the kicker, she’s not always nice. 🤷🏼♀️ Like she wants to be next to me, but she’s mad at me for who knows what. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Girl, bye. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">All day long, I’m lost on how to parent her. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I miss my shows, I miss taking a bath without her sitting by the tub...and I know she HAS to feel my anxiety and hear the horrible selfish tone in my voice. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And then she lays down in bed, and she cuddles and we laugh and talk...and I walk out of the room thinking, “Did I even love her enough today?” And tonight, like many other nights, I feel myself fall short. She and her brother and their dad are every single beat of my heart. My world. But I know for certain I don’t show it. I know my frustration gets the best of me. I know I am selfish. I know I fight back with a 3 year old and just make the issue (whatever it may be at the time) that much bigger. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I just hope that when she goes to bed at night, she remembers the laughter and cuddles over the frustration and tiredness of her selfish mama. I hope she knows she is the reason I breathe and also my fresh air...even when I don’t show it. What slows my anxiety is knowing that she was created in God’s image, and He sees the good...so hopefully she does too. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We are all just out here doing our best. Even if our best at the time is not our actual best. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Keep your love for one another at full strength, because love covers a multitude of sins. -1 Peter 4:8</span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down. -Proverbs 14:1</span></p><div><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_fef1_accd_b1d8_96e1" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PoogVxMHQQ0/W_t4-Cwj1GI/AAAAAAAAX1c/2o3-i9TObe0mijiZZzNym_9aFDZHcJuUQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_60ba_edb1_de23_57df" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hiDzpKx7l2c/W_t4-IaJfnI/AAAAAAAAX1k/oBKfBZ9bM8krFmCjerc7KR-ZRmte4Pd-gCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br><br><img id="id_b8d6_fd2d_e4b2_6a1d" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fKwjsXgdZ4w/W_t4-Hxl-0I/AAAAAAAAX1g/tOQT97RGKLU7BZ6IVPgyMzd5gEezJlAkACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></div> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-25850876208641573512018-04-05T18:35:00.001-07:002018-04-05T18:37:27.171-07:00I. Do. Not. Want. To. CoSleep! It’s been a while, huh? #twokids <div><br></div><div>Hear my words. Listen to my claps. I do not want to cosleep. <div><br></div><div>Y’all. I was told there was a bond between a baby boy and his mama. And it’s real. What’s funny is, his daddy can make him smile bigger than anyone. (Except for MK.) But when it comes to sleep... he wants his mama. (Insert heart eyes)</div><div><br></div><div>He goes down to bed so wonderfully in his crib. I can put him down drowsy, he holds his little blanket and puts himself to sleep. Until my head hits the pillow. Then we play the paci game a few times. Usually until the 2:00 hour. After that... I’m tired of getting up and put him right next to me in my bed. Where he sleeps beautifully and dreams sweetly until the AM. </div><div><br></div><div>I couldn’t pay Mollie to sleep with me when she was little. </div></div><div><br></div><div>But who am I kidding. He sleeps so good...one hand on me...unless he wiggles his way into the “nuck” of my belly and one hand on his blanket.</div><div><br></div><div>And the two of them together in the mornings is my FAVORITE! </div><div><br></div><div>“Let me love you a little more before you’re not so little anymore.”</div><div><img id="id_b471_ca49_9149_ff0b" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yaIny1S71oo/WsbOx6kRqKI/AAAAAAAAW-U/gGY7wcv1JtQkc55Yfsa0cf_2tZ5N7_MJwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_8662_26a0_1c65_c0cc" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CL6jC1hNLcY/WsbOyAcgf-I/AAAAAAAAW-Y/3OAxu9_Z97I-KhsVHTj9jnXCjJNOx1voACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_96c2_47c8_36d0_6256" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Q3iZGDa7tAc/WsbOyOURqVI/AAAAAAAAW-c/8Y8C1eOn4RErGjhzY5EkO-l6IyFITtsQQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” </span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; font-style: italic; -webkit-touch-callout: default !important;"><span style="font-style: italic;">—Exodus 33:14</span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-68922015919637369502017-12-25T21:43:00.001-08:002017-12-25T21:43:45.554-08:00Not even a mouse.. <p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">It’s Christmas night. My whole family is sleeping. Literally not a creature stirring...</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">But I’m here. Overwhelmed by the joy in my heart. So very thankful that a sweet, beautiful, and mighty baby boy was born so many years ago. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">My emotions this holiday have run wild. I often wonder what exactly my place is in this world. But I look at my children and I know without a doubt why I am here. Though my patience is short, and my struggles are real, my heart is full. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">I hope that no matter what you celebrate, your days are very merry. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">I thank my lucky stars that the Savior was born on this day...lighting my path of existence and leading me to exactly where I am right now. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText"; font-size: 17pt;"></span><img id="id_d65a_b78c_f9c7_ea40" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CrWhfT-pCZY/WkHhiFLnyoI/AAAAAAAAW5k/Wi9d5tYDcQIyp3UMg5mAv0d2XdCHXVSzQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_2427_bad5_88db_c8e4" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VdR-Dg5c0KU/WkHhkML-9qI/AAAAAAAAW5s/r5Nx2VmOAXU6rUZKc5gYLLBcTtWWKS9YgCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_27d0_8d87_84a6_712b" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YgvuMedn0eQ/WkHhj8zcW6I/AAAAAAAAW5o/yKnHuILQLCEegZoiB8B4sqUtQCNbJopoACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-5575461320276848302017-11-08T10:29:00.001-08:002017-11-08T10:30:45.708-08:00Stepping out of the darkness<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">I wrote this blog post when Baker was 3 weeks old. I never shared it. I was scared. I was ashamed. But here it is. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">Stepping out of the darkness. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">Scene: Close to perfect family. Wonderful home. Beau</span><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">tiful nursery. House filled with laughter and love. Sweet toddler. New squishy baby.</span><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"> </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">Behind the scene: frustrated, emotional and exhausted mama. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">A glimpse into my real world...Not my everything is shiny and rainbows social media world. The world where I cry when no one is looking but I don’t know what I’m crying about. Where my heart could explode from the love of my two kids at any given moment. I still feel confused, lost, and alone in my feels, even though everyone assures me they are completely normal. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">You see, I’m good.. 99% of the time, I’m happy, out and about, making memories with my family, drinking my (homemade) PSL unless I’ve been up all night and then Starbucks can make it for me. But that 1% is crap. It’s lonely. And it’s confusing as hell. I have this insanely cute family. So what am I crying for? My toddler loves my newborn. My husband loves me. We all love each other. What’s with the tears? </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">I legit ask myself that every single day. I don’t know the answer. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">But I do know that every day is better than the last. I know that when I surround myself in the word of God, that 1% gets smaller. I know I have a stellar support system that lets me vent without judgement and pours me wine when my glass is low. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">I am not one to air my dirty laundry out for everyone to see and judge. But I felt it was important to let moms that may feel the same way know that I see them. I pray for you. I know the struggle. You are not alone. When everyone in that hospital room leaves your side and goes to the baby and you’re laying there in your stirrups watching the madness around you... I see you. I’m there for you. You. Are. Not. Alone. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">Eventually life will go back to normal. Or so I am told... I’ll let you know when we get there. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">You are a freakin rockstar. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">I see you. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText-Italic"; font-style: italic;">My God, my soul is so traumatized; the only help is remembering You wherever I may be.” (<a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/search/?t=niv&q=ps+42:6-6"><span style="color: rgb(228, 175, 10);">Psalm 42:6</span></a>)</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText-Italic"; font-style: italic;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText-Italic"; font-style: italic;">**Update**</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">I have overcome the darkness. The devil did not win. Life has gotten a little easier. And my love-stronger. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";">I mean, it took like 3 straight hours to get both kids bathed and ready for bed last night. But it’s our normal now. I’m thankful for a husband that helps out fearlessly. And for a God that prevails. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: ".SF UI Text"; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><img id="id_889e_5d73_2a6a_7538" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wNMCPKTsTOc/WgNNBylnUKI/AAAAAAAAW1o/4LlLsAQOfWo84A024FPua13WEoWJMegdQCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><span style="font-family: ".SFUIText";"><br></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-87103806900587964352017-09-14T21:18:00.001-07:002017-09-14T21:18:19.324-07:00The hardest thing I've ever done... <p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">The hardest thing I've ever done. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">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." </font></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">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. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">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?) </font></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">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. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">I am able to love my kids fiercely because He first loved me. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">For that, I am forever grateful. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">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.</font></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4"><br></font></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><img id="id_e43d_f5d_828d_14e3" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dYr2eRytA3I/WbtUiHRhJRI/AAAAAAAAWww/nC-qiO0iZYAWZYpFtIQvWaiG7N5E7VB2gCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_5931_7bec_4635_8812" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-R4I-1Fp6npk/WbtUivFUerI/AAAAAAAAWw0/NAC_04a8y0gP7GrYdGgdfLXBQHwjyMa8wCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4"><br></font></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-2761761650423718692017-09-12T00:21:00.001-07:002017-09-12T00:24:53.480-07:00I am sorry to have done that to you... <p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Be still my heart.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p><div><br></div><div><img id="id_e245_433c_f5f5_8fd3" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Bjgv61cbEjs/WbeLhzUTcwI/AAAAAAAAWSQ/fQynVUYRk4AkwozMcywT0p99PPagA9kTwCHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-23907708343769798492017-07-23T19:29:00.001-07:002017-07-23T19:29:03.727-07:00A letter to my first born before my second is born... <p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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.</span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"> </span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">At the same time, my heart aches knowing you will no longer get my undivided attention. The only attention you've ever known.</span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"> </span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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...</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">You are my sun. My moon. And all of my stars. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I love you. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><img id="id_af53_7f94_4346_6e76" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_58GH2yO88M/WXVbbuRLwjI/AAAAAAAAVkk/C3_YS6RGxWo1kSI7g9HlIyKTRQ3Q7baHACHMYCw/s5000/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><br></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-14830782754213932742017-05-22T18:50:00.001-07:002017-05-22T18:58:53.364-07:00#toddlerlife<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Then.... she decides that MOMMY IS LIFE (</span><span style="font-family: '.AppleColorEmojiUI';">🙌🏻</span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">) 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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Confused? Yea. Me too. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Poor daddy. Really, he wants to help. And mommy is freaking exhausted. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Again, toddler life... send help...and in September, send ALL the wine. </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);">
</p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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...</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Italic'; font-style: italic;">Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Italic'; font-style: italic;">—1 Peter 5:5–6</span></p><div><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Italic'; font-style: italic; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_f795_f7a8_40bc_ac0a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OhA7wXOUp5I/WSOVbtVfX5I/AAAAAAAAAfs/lOE0OtmVXGAJfX-FGkAbI1QawGRiTQpqgCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Italic'; font-style: italic; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></div><img id="id_9f0c_6b5c_c543_87d9" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E9ZRbCI6yj0/WSOVcqw73BI/AAAAAAAAAf4/j6dX5FP4yt8hS-9yYYl4cS7W0QCLCoXhQCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <img id="id_4435_785_cc7_3a97" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KBH5LlPwKAM/WSOVcX0MhHI/AAAAAAAAAf0/vIZUe76zn20tdw_8kFyJtXOultjUasSzQCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <img id="id_a5e1_a481_7189_41c9" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9_1LeREuYYY/WSOVcU_SqjI/AAAAAAAAAfw/pfhWWFID_fkLG59Lk0kSxnP86pzb_aqfwCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <img id="id_a5ea_c1f7_3a84_4df0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qYR_uvMtMkY/WSOVdiAMSGI/AAAAAAAAAf8/ivXWo-fRuA0wnrrm-TapqY3IqEoVhDVpQCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-5389812876767907412017-05-11T17:19:00.001-07:002017-05-11T17:19:07.965-07:00Feeling mediocre <p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-size: large; font-family: '.SFUIText';">Warning: pity party and sappy post ahead-read with caution</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">I'm beating myself up. I keep telling myself how mediocre I'm being. Mediocre wife, mediocre at my job, even mediocre mom... </font></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">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... </font></span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></font></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">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. </font></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><font size="4">I know Mother's Day is coming up this weekend. But he deserves the shoutout. </font></span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><font size="4"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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.) </span><span style="font-family: '.AppleColorEmojiUI';">😘</span></font></p><img id="id_b179_7b18_38a1_f057" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mouwW9Nf5KE/WRT_d6i5MzI/AAAAAAAAAe0/1QD6jd6cECM0KcoQDEYgxCJOSfwux3L3gCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;">
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-style: italic;">Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. —</span><span class="smallcaps" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; border: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; font-style: italic; line-height: inherit; -webkit-touch-callout: default !important;">PSALM 62:5</span></span></p><img id="id_b6a6_3a37_4317_e086" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uJPs-cut7og/WRT_enYum7I/AAAAAAAAAe4/QboUXCj9-4cBGOCt7nH1FySNJRqKx8zewCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-41474791326327476932017-04-23T18:55:00.001-07:002017-04-23T19:01:48.916-07:00Fear not. <p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Fear not. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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.</span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">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... </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Fear not. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Bold words. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">But my God is bolder. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Italic'; font-style: italic;">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 </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Italic'; font-style: italic;"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Italic'; font-style: italic;">Darling, may you always be fearless. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText-Italic'; font-style: italic; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><img id="id_346e_81bb_a71f_542" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CTpgXeg7itc/WP1bH_ophmI/AAAAAAAAAeM/9qTBMAN046oVi8jBIVnPmrTNc-gyxdEWQCHM/%255BUNSET%255D" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-70100743820482884062017-02-22T19:10:00.001-08:002017-02-22T19:10:44.820-08:00A letter about food to my unborn child. <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Dear little, tiny, beautiful baby inside my belly,</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">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.) </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Here's the deal. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">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. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Okay. I love you. Let's try again tomorrow. K? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Love, </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Your very hungry, very worn out, (did I mention hungry?) </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">MOM </span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-42179745340039383192017-01-26T18:12:00.001-08:002017-01-26T18:12:00.321-08:00In the quiet...<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;">I lay here next to her, completely overwhelmed with emotions. I guess I assumed my heart would reach capacity one day. But every day it grows more to hold the ever growing love for this (not so) tiny human. My very best friend. She rarely sits still. But tonight, she knew her mama needed some quiet snuggle time. She knows my heart. She was watching Elmo as I was staring at her. Moments of our future flashing before my eyes. I literally had to fight the tears. Will she ever fully understand how much she has changed me? Will she ever comprehend how much I love her? </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;">I assume this is how God feels daily...probably questioning if we will ever fully grasp His never ending love for us... His promise for our future. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;">Just like quiet snuggles are needed... so is my need for the quiet and stillness of God's peace through His word. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;">“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” —John 16:33. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><img id="id_701f_a24_29e8_3040" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6weoWsXlKiE/WIqsb4lQWlI/AAAAAAAAAdA/pX6KDevq62g/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"></span><br></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-50927472194049691982016-12-29T12:16:00.001-08:002016-12-29T12:53:03.519-08:00I Choose Joy. <p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Looking back on 2016, I could be the girl who talks about how crazy of a year it has been. How terrible our world seems right now. How scared I am to raise a human in our time. How drugs and violence seem to be really out of control. I could talk about my own trials and tribulations... but instead, I want to CHOOSE JOY. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 20.3px;"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"></span><br></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose to love my family more each day. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose to create. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose to forgive. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose to forget. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose to play more in 2017.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose to worry less. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose to be more faithful to God. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose to listen to His commands. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose to be patient... or I'll atleast choose to try.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose laughter over tears. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose to fight for my dreams. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose exercise.</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose wine.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose my friends. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose my husband. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I choose my daughter. </span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">I CHOOSE Joy for 2017. </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">What do you choose? </span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">And He said, "I Myself will make all My goodness pass before you, and will proclaim the name of the LORD before you; and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show compassion on whom I will show compassion."</span></p>
<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Exodus 33:19</span></p>
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<p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">"How blessed is the one whom You choose and bring near to You To dwell in Your courts We will be satisfied </span><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">with the goodness of Your house, Your holy temple." </span></p><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';">Psalm 65:4</span></p><img id="id_84b6_3ac1_141_8194" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dIfBjgjRUgw/WGVvI_MA35I/AAAAAAAAAcQ/TRCRerYFR4s/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><p style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><img id="id_bdbf_a91d_dd32_deb2" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v3cayEqD-x8/WGVvLbT8MwI/AAAAAAAAAcU/6lhLpRvvkfI/%25255BUNSET%25255D.png" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"> <span style="font-family: '.SFUIText';"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 17px; line-height: normal; font-family: '.SF UI Text'; color: rgb(69, 69, 69);"><span style="font-family: '.SFUIText'; font-size: 17pt;"><br></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-24728194311675434902016-10-20T07:30:00.004-07:002016-10-20T07:30:45.563-07:00"When I am angry, I will seek to be kind.."<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">To think how far we have come since each of these pictures. Almost <span class="aBn" data-term="goog_956069674" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; position: relative; top: -2px; z-index: 0;" tabindex="0"><span class="aQJ" style="position: relative; top: 2px; z-index: -1;">9 years later</span></span>...<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">God presented me with the opportunity and the need to do some self reflecting as we near a decade in our beautiful journey together. I preordered a book that comes out in January that allowed me a small sample of the first 5 chapters or what the author calls challenges.<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span>Becky Thompson's Love Unending is exactly what I needed to hit the ground running on remembering to be not only a mother, but a wife. I often find it near impossible to be good at it all...mom, wife, teacher, daughter, friend, etc... most days I feel I'm failing at at least one if not all.<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">From Facebook I'm sure it seems we have it mostly together... we love each other and we basically have since day one. But my heart knows I need work. Chapter 2 of the book is about speaking kindly. I struggle so hard with this. While I know when to hide it, my favorite words are 4 letter words, I get frustrated easily with people and things and my annoyance is very apparent. Unfortunately, my dear husband takes most of the hit.<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">Speak kindly.<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">It seems so simple. It was even in our wedding vows. "When I am angry, I will seek to be kind..."<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">Talk about failing. I fail daily... almost every hour, I'm sure. Life is so busy. And I use that as my excuse to be short and rude. Sometimes, because I know we love each other I feel as though I can say anything and speak any way...<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">But like the book says, "Honest conversations should never be confused with the permission to be disrespectful."<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">I am thankful for the opportunity to read something that puts me in my place and makes me squirm because I KNOW I'm at fault.<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">I cannot WAIT to continue with these challenges. I already want to skip ahead... but I know I need to focus the way it was intended.<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">The book comes out in January and you can go ahead and preorder now if you're interested.<span class="m_2105522089505499128Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">Love Unending by Becky Thompson</span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">"The tone of our voices often communicates our hearts more clearly than our words ever do. And we have the power to change the nature of every interaction by speaking with a tone that conveys kindness."</span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1">"Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ, God forgave you."</span></div>
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<span class="m_2105522089505499128s1"> -Ephesians 4:32</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-7113726635466242882016-09-02T20:33:00.001-07:002016-09-02T21:00:51.058-07:00Real talk- #PreKLife<span style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">It's Friday. The last day of my first full week with my PreK kids. And do you know what I'm doing? Looking at the pictures that I took this week of my PreK kids. </span><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I'm tired. I'm a full time working with kids mama. I'm exhausted. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">But here I am. Just feeling my heart grow by the second. I can literally feel it expanding. It will get close to reaching its capacity. It will be broken from time to time this year. It's bound to...four year olds are good at that. But my gracious, how can I already love them all so much? </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I am thankful that teaching is like child birth. I forget how little they are when they come to me. I forget from year to year that my official title for the month of August and September is "cat herder." </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">(Side note: getting 19 four year olds in a line is the most ridiculous thing you've ever seen...well maybe not ever. But it's a close second.) </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Anyway. I'm thankful for the summer amnesia that exists for teachers. I'm thankful for the entire tribe of BESt coworkers that help us out throughout the day. I'm thankful for an assistant that totally understands my wide eyes and "what is happening?" comments. I'm thankful for a wonderful cleaning staff that smiles when I tell them "I'm so sorry, a kid went #2 in the urinal." (Real life) </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DcpAP-o9Qco/V8pEnn7CcQI/AAAAAAAAAZA/cje5MZTKqB4/s640/blogger-image--1059464898.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DcpAP-o9Qco/V8pEnn7CcQI/AAAAAAAAAZA/cje5MZTKqB4/s640/blogger-image--1059464898.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-9339560862315566922016-08-25T20:24:00.001-07:002016-08-25T20:26:21.504-07:00Real talk: getting my life together.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ySMFNBG0Lbs/V7-2NHQRu0I/AAAAAAAAAYc/owQgmPJZD9M/s640/blogger-image-1036788897.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ySMFNBG0Lbs/V7-2NHQRu0I/AAAAAAAAAYc/owQgmPJZD9M/s640/blogger-image-1036788897.jpg"></a></div>(I put the cute kid on here to keep your interest level up...)</div><div><br></div>Step 1 of getting my life together: Washing my face. (Step 2 involves making the bed in the mornings... I'm only on step 1 and <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I can feel your judgement.) </span><div><br></div><div><span style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Disclaimer: I am NOT trying to sell you a product. I am committing to writing a review of a product. I am NOT getting paid. I am keeping a word to a friend.</span><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Now that we have that out of the way... </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">A few weeks ago I noticed a Facebook friend of mine had an amazing complexion. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Hold up. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I'm going to say friend of mine. Except I never see her in person. But I feel like we are besties. 1. Because she loves a selfie as much as I do. 2. I think she's a boss at owning her life. 3. She thinks my kid is super cute. Winner by my standards.</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"> Anywho... </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">My skin was a mess. Oily all the time. Bumps galore. Maybe it was because I was 28 and still not washing my makeup off at night like I should have been doing for at least a decade or longer. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">So, I noticed her skin. Now just so you know, she's a big time sales person and rocks at it. But I didn't want to sell. I wanted the product she used. With hesitation, I asked. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Side note: I already had an itWorks account from earlier in the year when I tried a few things and of course bought the wraps because I think those things are the shizzzz. I don't know if they actually work, but they make me feel better about myself... so that's all that really matters. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Back to it. She told me what she used. So I got it. And I will be honest I haven't used a ton of face products religiously so I can't compare. But I can tell you that I look forward to washing my face every morning and every evening. And for me, that's a pretty big deal. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I mean, that's a solid extra minute of sleep I could be having. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">So, after a couple of weeks she wanted me to review it for her. Of course I'm thinking, "GAHHHH all my FB friends are going to unfriend me" (which is saying a lot because I post all the stuff about er'thing and if they haven't unfriended me after 619 days of my kid pics, they were in it to win it.) </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Well, like I said before, I'm pretty sure this girl and I could be besties. So I wanted to keep my word. So here's my review. I freaking love the face wash. And the day/night time serums. I love those too. Use em... Don't use em... Whatever you think is best. But that's my review. If you want to know more, just ask. I'll point you in the right direction. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Now please go back to your usual Facebook newsfeed scrolling. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">But first... Let me take a selfie.</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dvCFlS7oIDM/V7-2Ml9ACXI/AAAAAAAAAYY/nJVu2ib7Z9M/s640/blogger-image-1880139791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dvCFlS7oIDM/V7-2Ml9ACXI/AAAAAAAAAYY/nJVu2ib7Z9M/s640/blogger-image-1880139791.jpg"></a></div> </div></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Wash me clean from my guilt. Purify me from my sin. Psalm 51:2</span><span class="p" style="color: rgb(0, 19, 32); font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 13px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-12089280769593250532016-08-21T10:40:00.001-07:002016-08-22T16:05:28.101-07:00Why not more?So Sunday's are my favorite. I feel the most like myself, the most like the wife, mom, and person God wants me to be on Sunday. I feel the most alive on Sunday. <div><br></div><div>I struggle so hard to keep that feeling going all week long. By the end of Monday I am already exhausted and reaching for the weekend. But I find myself NOT reaching for God. But why? I know why I love Sunday. I relax listening to the word of God. I find joy knowing my baby girl is in a nursery down the hall that she is finally loving and is being loved on by people who love God. </div><div><br></div><div>Here's my question: Why not more? </div><div><br></div><div>I have a bible, I have an app, I have my voice and my thoughts, I have the ability to worship with songs... Why am I not doing more? </div><div><br></div><div>Because life is too busy? Because I have a pity party when I take my kid to the sitter instead of staying cuddled for <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">an extra hour? Excuses. I have so many excuses. And those excuses are getting in the way of me being where I feel most at home... Right in the word of Jesus. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So going into this new week... I am going to choose more. More time with God. More time digging into the person he wants me to be. More time making sure that sweet child of mine KNOWS without a doubt that her mama loves Jesus. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Wouldn't it be great if every single day felt easy like Sunday morning? And I think it can. I just need to work on it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">"Your love never fails"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Nothing can separate</span></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;">Even if I ran away</div></span><span style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;">Your love never fails</div></span><br style="box-sizing: border-box; text-align: center;"></span><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="text-align: center; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I know I still make mistakes</span></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;">But You have new mercies for me everyday</div></span><span style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;">Your love never fails</div><div style="text-align: start;"><br></div></span></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f9zAPh1MzJk/V7pk6QPyOLI/AAAAAAAAAX4/tq0OQYKsujk/s640/blogger-image-917270378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f9zAPh1MzJk/V7pk6QPyOLI/AAAAAAAAAX4/tq0OQYKsujk/s640/blogger-image-917270378.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-85674627472568253912016-08-17T19:56:00.001-07:002016-08-17T20:04:36.346-07:00Mom life: Having the rebound rate of GodScene: 3 new pairs of converse shoes are unboxed and the toddler picks the pinks ones out and MUST have them on her feet immediately. She was basically saying, "Mom, I don't have time for this unknot the shoelaces crap, the hardwood is obviously on fire and I need shoes to protect my feet from it." <div><br></div><div>Oh. I'm sorry. I'm not moving fast enough for you. Anywho. I got the giant shoe on her cute, giant, size 7 foot. (We all know a size 7 converse looks like a clown foot.) </div><div><br></div><div>So, the shoe is on but heaven forbid I tie the thing. I mean WHY would I even CONSIDER treating that baby that way. Tie her shoe? Her brand new pretty pink shoe that she wanted...no...NEEDED to have on her foot? In my best Pete the Cat voice, "Goodness no!" </div><div><br></div><div>Well, too late. She assumed that my tying the shoe was actually going to set off some sort of missile and destroy the world so of course she flung her hands to her face and fell into the couch with all the drama. </div><div><br></div><div>Incase you were concerned. Eventually I did tie the shoe. Which helped keep them on. And in fact, did not launch a death missile. Oh, and she heard the theme song to Sofia the First so everything was (insert Pete the Cat voice again) "ALL GOOD" in about 2.5 seconds. </div><div><br></div><div>Good thing she's got such a good rebound rate. I mean if she held a real grudge for everything I did that she didn't like... We wouldn't be talking for the next like 65 years. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm replaying it all in my head and thinking, gosh, God has a pretty good rebound rate too. Even better than MK. Because the second I doubt, the second I roll my eyes at someone, the second I sin in any shape, form, or fashion... he has already forgiven me. I could untie my laces all day long and He is not going to care from one minute to the next. My God is going to say, "Hey girl, don't trip, but if you do... I've got your back. I've got a bandaid." </div><div><br></div><div>My prayer tonight is to have the rebound rate of forgiveness and understanding of my 20 month old who teaches me to be more like God every day. She may not like what I do, but she's going to forgive me within like a second. JUST like our God. He made us in His image for a reason. For that, I am thankful. I am able to see Him so much more clearly through her. </div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So God created man in His <i style="box-sizing: border-box;">own</i> image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. Genesis 1:27</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z89vgM-mGnA/V7Ulw4FvtlI/AAAAAAAAAXU/RrkSkji6ewk/s640/blogger-image-1818909638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z89vgM-mGnA/V7Ulw4FvtlI/AAAAAAAAAXU/RrkSkji6ewk/s640/blogger-image-1818909638.jpg"></a></div></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">What I imagine MK saying, "Mom...you're the worst!"</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qlpCPDJzThg/V7UlweHTLhI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/hDmDNG0N7cU/s640/blogger-image--1448405640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qlpCPDJzThg/V7UlweHTLhI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/hDmDNG0N7cU/s640/blogger-image--1448405640.jpg"></a></div>"Nevermind, let's cuddle and watch Disney." </span></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-8122867089674579802016-05-15T19:06:00.001-07:002016-05-15T19:28:22.658-07:00Reflecting on 27 and welcoming 28.<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>The clock struck midnight. The coach turned back into a pumpkin. And just like that, I'm 2 years away from being 30. I think there must be some mistake because I'm certain I was just at BBQfest my senior year having the most insane time of my life with Nikki and Libby. I mean, there was an Elvis involved. </span></div><div><br></div><div>No mistake. I'm still having the time of my life, but instead of Elvis and BBQ, I'm throwing sprinkles for Libby's second baby, working with #allthekids and living the #momlife. This number...28... It has a really distinct sound about it. It's so close to 30. I can't say I envisioned my life any differently. I don't exactly know what I envisioned at all. But I do know this. This has been the most amazing and most trying year of my life. </div><div><br></div><div>27 brought me so much joy. Having the ability to watch my Mollie Kate learn and grow has brought so much happiness into our lives. She is truly the best thing that has ever happened to us. On days that seem long and grueling, she brings the biggest smile to my face. And watching her daddy with her as she has grown brings a smile to my heart. </div><div><br></div><div>On the other hand, this year I've felt much failure. Failure as a mom. As a teacher. As a wife. Failure with the way my body should look. I have had some of the many heart struggles. I set myself up with ideals of perfection, all while knowing perfection cannot and will not be achieved. I am ever so glad that God does not expect perfection out of me. I am so glad that He sees my heart even on days that seem long and tiring. </div><div><br></div><div>I am taking 28 by the horns. I plan to love harder, laugh longer, and reach for my crazy dreams. With my husband, baby girl, family and friends by my side and the Lord in my heart, I know there is nothing I cannot achieve. </div><div><br></div><div>And my God will meet all your needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19</div><div><br></div><div>We live by faith, not by sight. Corinthians 5:7</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xLzalIpnvxQ/VzksgTTAY1I/AAAAAAAAAVg/fAhJVeKZ5IA/s640/blogger-image--423588587.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xLzalIpnvxQ/VzksgTTAY1I/AAAAAAAAAVg/fAhJVeKZ5IA/s640/blogger-image--423588587.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Oz2q7EFEeo0/VzksjKef9YI/AAAAAAAAAVw/iMagk4JaKug/s640/blogger-image--584704932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Oz2q7EFEeo0/VzksjKef9YI/AAAAAAAAAVw/iMagk4JaKug/s640/blogger-image--584704932.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SkoBptUL1ro/VzksiC5S-HI/AAAAAAAAAVo/23b7YgLaoTM/s640/blogger-image--1293884469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SkoBptUL1ro/VzksiC5S-HI/AAAAAAAAAVo/23b7YgLaoTM/s640/blogger-image--1293884469.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EH0kPJhJsiA/VzkshHwJO8I/AAAAAAAAAVk/WhEUCfG3Dl8/s640/blogger-image--1100390025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EH0kPJhJsiA/VzkshHwJO8I/AAAAAAAAAVk/WhEUCfG3Dl8/s640/blogger-image--1100390025.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u7V5QK26hNk/Vzksi8VBLGI/AAAAAAAAAVs/5F_BUrBlVMY/s640/blogger-image--2021052232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u7V5QK26hNk/Vzksi8VBLGI/AAAAAAAAAVs/5F_BUrBlVMY/s640/blogger-image--2021052232.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><div></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-38399126198996689162016-03-15T16:55:00.001-07:002016-03-15T17:54:43.101-07:00When simple tasks aren't so simple anymore.Today has been a trying day for mama. <div><br></div><div>I am not sure why Mollie Kate is grumpy about life today, but she totally is. (It's possible that she's tired of going to Hobby Lobby ever day after school.) </div><div><br></div><div>Don't worry girl, you'll love it one day, it's in your genes.</div><div><br></div><div>Anywho, I needed to run in and grab 2 things and I knew exactly where they were. After that, I needed to go into Kroger and buy some flowers. What could have been a 5 minute trip into each store turned into an hour and a half. My patience was running thin and my bottle of wine was calling my name. </div><div><br></div><div>While rocking her to bed, I prayed for patience. Again. As I always have to do.</div><div><br></div><div>I know it's unrealistic, but I don't want her to see me undone and bothered by the small things. At the same time, I want her to see me fall to my knees, begging for the patience that life and love demand. I know she was feeding off of my mood. I know I should have dropped everything else and gone outside to play or gone for ice cream together. The other things can wait. She will only be a toddler for a moment. She will only beg me to hold her for a few more months... If that long. I get angry with myself when I don't recognize these things in the moment. But, now I know for next time. I'm human, and a first time mom... I'm bound to let things get the best of me, right?</div><div><br></div><div>She's sleeping now. It's 7:11 and still daylight. The house needs to be cleaned again from the tornado that is named, Mollie Kate. But instead, I think I'll sit here and watch HGTV. Because if I don't, then I'm letting another moment pass me by. A moment of "me" time. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PaL1XKmD43A/Vuimb9Y1xHI/AAAAAAAAAUU/QPMtebKRjbw/s640/blogger-image-1085160659.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PaL1XKmD43A/Vuimb9Y1xHI/AAAAAAAAAUU/QPMtebKRjbw/s640/blogger-image-1085160659.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qGW79t_d3hM/Vuimcdc-17I/AAAAAAAAAUY/VLHKSi-isIs/s640/blogger-image-932172089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qGW79t_d3hM/Vuimcdc-17I/AAAAAAAAAUY/VLHKSi-isIs/s640/blogger-image-932172089.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span id="en-NLT-29409" class="text Phil-4-6" style="box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">"Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done.</span> <span id="en-NLT-29410" class="text Phil-4-7" style="box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." Phillipians 4:6-7</span></span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-24592124144800155612016-02-28T17:54:00.001-08:002016-02-28T17:54:00.821-08:00All the feels<div>All. The. Feels. </div><div><br></div><div>I have never in my ENTIRE life been as emotional as I have been the last three days. I cannot stop counting my blessings. Over and over. I am in awe. I look at Mollie and I swear I fight back the tears. Why? Because she is so freakin awesome that my heart literally cannot stand it. I think she's awesome when she's awake. I think she's awesome when she whines. I think she's freakin awesome when she calls me "MiMi" instead of "mama" and I think she's awesome when she lets me rock her for a quick minute before she goes to bed for 12 hours. </div><div><br></div><div>Side note- I am not saying that motherhood is not hard. I would be LYING if I said that being a mother/wife/teacher/combo is easy. It's not. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. I fail daily. I fail at being a mom and I fail at being a wife. I have found many faults in myself over the past 14 months. But every single smile makes all the work so worth it. </div><div><br></div><div>My heart aches hoping she feels as much love FROM me as I feel FOR her. She is my light in this crazy world. She makes me so proud and makes me look forward to the future.</div><div><br></div><div>Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Ephesians 4:2</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DWKsFdXkcTI/VtOktuPDtRI/AAAAAAAAAT4/3PKrp2H1dV0/s640/blogger-image-1384840667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DWKsFdXkcTI/VtOktuPDtRI/AAAAAAAAAT4/3PKrp2H1dV0/s640/blogger-image-1384840667.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-63559435823750714742016-01-26T19:02:00.001-08:002016-01-26T19:08:22.200-08:00Paci game... Part 2.<span style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>As I mentally prepare myself to make the paci a bedtime only situation in a few weeks... I can't help but notice how obsessed Mollie is with her paci's these days. At any given time she has one hanging from her shirt, one in her mouth, and one in each hand. My favorite part is when she changes them out.. As if the current one in her mouth isn't good enough. She goes to bed rubbing a paci on her eyes (similar to what she used to do with her fuzzy mittens.) As I rocked her tonight, I handed her the second paci, where she then sat up, changed them out, and laid back down on my chest, as if it were totally normal. I couldn't help but think of the thing that once consumed my life... The paci game. If only I knew that in a matter of what seems like days, she would no longer need me for this game. She would so soon be able to not only spit them out and replace them, but hold 4 at one time. My baby is no longer a baby. My baby is a growing toddler. I'm trying hard to hold on to the few things that keep her my baby girl, like a paci... And her new paci game. I'm okay with it. It makes me smile. </span><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 19px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cjbZq4aAtOg/Vqg0oxIYAqI/AAAAAAAAATM/8MOCgu37ZG4/s640/blogger-image--108644677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cjbZq4aAtOg/Vqg0oxIYAqI/AAAAAAAAATM/8MOCgu37ZG4/s640/blogger-image--108644677.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-P4_yUEj3i7M/Vqg0oZXJnRI/AAAAAAAAATE/m-YvA4Rcqc0/s640/blogger-image--710237616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-P4_yUEj3i7M/Vqg0oZXJnRI/AAAAAAAAATE/m-YvA4Rcqc0/s640/blogger-image--710237616.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-61558080364796579822016-01-06T17:49:00.001-08:002016-01-06T18:56:59.689-08:00That moment.<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So I didn't know this, and no one told me about it, but I'm positive I'm not the only one in all of history to feel it. There is a moment...a monumental moment...where a mom or parent becomes a child's life. I don't know when it happened specifically, but it has. For months far before she could have even known it, Ben and I joked about who her favorite was. Of course I thought it was me, but often, he thought it was me too. BUT... Mollie has always been a people person. She didn't care who was talking to her and holding her, she was eating it up. She didn't meet a stranger.</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Until now. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You see, over the past week or so, I have noticed that she isn't as willing to go to everyone else. She isn't as brave as she once was. Instead of watching tv and playing on the floor, even if for only a moment, she wants to be in my arms. After naps she wants to rock and cuddle, and before bed she lets me love on her for just a moment longer than she used too. I am her home base. I am her safety net. And don't get me wrong, she loves her daddy and he is bound to be her favorite with his kid self trapped in a 34 year old body. But for now, she is my world. And I am hers. And I will cling on to that as long as she lets me. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Mamas do you remember that moment? When you realized that baby knows YOU are living for him or her? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c_0G5QF3laA/Vo3EJykOVDI/AAAAAAAAASc/xtczoanKtfQ/s640/blogger-image-627345321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c_0G5QF3laA/Vo3EJykOVDI/AAAAAAAAASc/xtczoanKtfQ/s640/blogger-image-627345321.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OZXc8eZwLG0/Vo3EJFs-eWI/AAAAAAAAASU/oviekwUMmp0/s640/blogger-image--1841141312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-OZXc8eZwLG0/Vo3EJFs-eWI/AAAAAAAAASU/oviekwUMmp0/s640/blogger-image--1841141312.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"When I tell you I love you. I don't say it out of habit or to make conversation. I say it to remind you that you are the BEST thing that has ever happened to me."</span></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4041602958925517920.post-52601243940022281872015-12-16T05:47:00.001-08:002015-12-16T05:47:51.721-08:00On the wonderful, marvelous, night you were born...<div>The light in me sees the light in you. </div><div><br></div><div>I've been anxious about this post for a while now. When Mollie turned 9 months old, I felt the walls closing in. She was closer to one than she was a newborn. And here it is... Like a thief in the night, my newborn came and went.</div><div><br></div><div>I. Have. A. One. Year. Old. </div><div><br></div><div>My littlest and greatest accomplishment is becoming a tiny human. She has a mind of her own like her mama and a sense of humor of her daddy. She's a major over achiever with her 2T clothes, working on 16 teeth, and walking by 11 months. I think that's why I am so sad. There is minimal "baby" left in my baby. </div><div><br></div><div>Thinking back, much like her birth, I remember this year like a vivid dream. Almost like I was watching it all happen. </div><div>I've now felt a love for someone else that I didn't know could exist, much less know I was capable of. </div><div><br></div><div>Mollie Kate, you truly are the light of our lives. We are a thousand times better just because we get to see your smiles and hear your laughs. You make us proud every minute of every day. You alone are responsible for so many of our own smiles. We love you to the moon and back.</div><div><br></div><div>"For never before in story or rhyme (not even once upon a time) has the world ever known a you, my friend, and it never will, not ever again…</div><div><br></div><div>Heaven blew every trumpet and played every horn on the wonderful, marvelous night you were born."</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-y55GKMrzacA/VnFramDetWI/AAAAAAAAARk/r-iujbGpbNQ/s640/blogger-image--1419638849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-y55GKMrzacA/VnFramDetWI/AAAAAAAAARk/r-iujbGpbNQ/s640/blogger-image--1419638849.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GvnULCbRG54/VnFrbXU-PgI/AAAAAAAAARs/QCPusW1_oDg/s640/blogger-image--1548349161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GvnULCbRG54/VnFrbXU-PgI/AAAAAAAAARs/QCPusW1_oDg/s640/blogger-image--1548349161.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09475485918750788107noreply@blogger.com0