I'm Turning Into My Mother (and that's okay)

I think the first few years of parenting, you just have to come to grips with the fact that you will have your foot in your mouth. At all times. It is nothing short of pure embarrassment how I was so critical of my parents, siblings, and even friends on their parenting styles. And then I had Brady. We won't even talk about how much worse of a hypocrite I became when I had Ella just 21 months later. I think God did that on purpose. Humility is something I was lacking.

My Mom and Dad always let us sleep with them. At one point, all three of us kids slept in bed with them. Did I mention they had a queen size bed? Yep. When I was pregnant with Brady, I was sure to tell my parents that we would never do that. It was too dangerous and my baby would be able to sleep on his own. Then we spent five weeks sleeping upright on the couch holding Brady. We knew we would have to change something, so we bought the Snugglenest. Cosleeping without actually cosleeping. That worked until he was three months old. Then he slept in his own bed as long as it was in our room. Then at ten months old, he discovered the beauty of a pillowtop mattress. We have not had the bed to ourselves since June 2009. When Ella came along, we tried to keep her in her own bed, but she just would not have it. We were tired enough that we let her in too. And that's how it works for us. I know there are people who are scared of cosleeping, but it is actually the most natural thing for a family. If parents have alcohol or drugs in their system, this will not work, but if you are sober, it has proven to actually help prevent accidents. Will we always sleep like this? Of course not. When the kids are ready, they'll have their own beds. I don't even remember sleeping with my parents because I was on my own by a young age. But I love that they let me. I love that they believed like I do, that an infant should not have to cry it out and figure life out for themselves. God gave us the beautiful gift of babies and He trusted us to love them and hug them when they cry.

My Mom always let us pick out our own outfits. Perhaps it was because it was the 80s and 90s when she had kids, so she did not see any point in trying to help the cause, but I love that she let us. It gave us a sense of independence and pride that we had put our outfit together. No matter how neon it ended up being. I have to say that I do not let Brady just go into his closet and pick out clothes, but it turns out that I am becoming more and more laid back on this. He even wore his tacky Toy Story shoes today when I would have preferred the nice brown ones :)

My Mom always had time for us. The mess could wait. I am extremely organized and OCD and hate it when anything is out of place. I used to tell David that our house should look like a magazine, like no one actually lives here. And then I had a toddler who asks to snuggle and I had a baby who needs to be held when she cries. So our house is so incredibly far from perfect. And that's okay. I should not receive my pride on how my house looks. I receive joy in the smiles on my kids faces as they play and stamp (even our floor this week, but it was washable, phew). And now I finally get why my Mom was okay with cleaning up later.

We moved from our first house when I was around five. I still remember sitting on the couch one night with my Mom. She was letting me sit on her lap and I was snuggling on her, my head under her chin. That's what she had time for. She did not run around the house like a crazy lady, yelling at all of us to make our beds and organize our toys. She just loved us. I remember that night saying that a woman on TV was pretty, but I immediately told my Mom after that that she was much prettier. I never wanted my Mom to doubt that I thought she was the most beautiful person in the world.

So I'm going to go step over laundry that needs to be put away and toys that should be in the playroom and play with my kids. Maybe even have a dance party, unless Brady yells at me for embarrassing him, because that is what moms do. And it's okay that my house is a mess, my Mom was the only one that saw it that way today and to her, that means that I finally get it.

Why I'm Not A Thrifter

I have a few friends who are amazing thrifters. They can go to just about any thrift shop and find the chic-est, most stylish finds. I used to go with one of my friends back in high school. I ended up buying one of my favorite sweatshirts there, but that's all I have to show for it. She is one of those people who can go to a thrift shop and find a t-shirt that you can pull off with jeans and stilettos. I, on the other hand, find t-shirts you can wear to the gym, but even those look a little cheesy.

I have thought about becoming one of those thrifters. Those people who manage to always look great in their own style, but I still have not gone to a thrift store. Not even for my kids. It makes total sense for us to shop at those stores. David and I both have jobs that lead us to say "we do the job because we like to help people, not for the money", which is 100% true, but still kind of funny on the bank account. But, even as I thought about going recently as I am still hanging onto some baby weight, I have not gone, and I think I know why.

To be a thrifter, you have to see the potential in an item. What you could pair it with, how you could make it work for you. I don't like that. I like having items that are already pretty and perfect. The kind that are crisp and new and when I hang them on the clothesline downstairs, they are just waiting for the next season to hit so that I can wash them and put them away like some sort of prize that promises with a new season comes a fresh start. And this leads me to an "area for improvement" (as a job would tell you) in my own life. I want people, life, everything, to not be from a thrift shop. I want everything to be perfect and new and crisp and clean. I don't want to search for the potential in it.

I want my husband to be perfect. I don't want to have to look for potential in him. I want my body to be brand new after having my kids. I don't want to have to look in the mirror and tell myself why it is okay that I do not look like my 20 year old self anymore. I want my house to be fresh and clean and organized, I don't want to look at my pink bathroom and brainstorm how pretty it could be.

I am so glad that God does not have anything against thrifting. He looks at us and sees the potential for greatness in our lives. I wonder what it would be like if I could look at people and do the same.

Time Well Spent

I am finally posting my first entry on this blog. It's a long story on why I am even attempting to keep up with a blog on a regular basis (I think this is round four), but regardless, I hope I grow from this and that maybe you can smile and laugh with me along the way.

So I actually like it when I am just going along in the world, minding my own business, when I am suddenly hit with a new perspective on a view that I held so dear because I just knew it to be true.

I was at work last night when all of a sudden something hit me. I have always told myself that it is okay that I am intentional about making time for my kids, no matter what, and that I am unapologetically selfish with my time with them. I have even put my marriage on the back burner because I only have a small window of time with my kiddos at home and I'll have forever with David. I knew this meant our marriage might need a little patchwork after the kids flew the nest, but to be painfully honest, I think I was doing okay with that. I mean have you seen Brady's curls or Ella's cheeks? So back to my point. Last night it just hit me. I don't know if I'll have David with me after the kids are gone. Not that I am worried about a divorce. I realize that could happen, but I'm not to the point of worrying about that. It just hit me that the reason that a 50 year anniversary is so special is not just because a divorce did not occur, but because you both made it! Like really, both people are still alive and ticking. With all of the tragedies and sicknesses out there, it really is nothing short of a miracle when two people make it to old age together.

This leads me to my next point. Even with knowing all of this, it will take discipline to spend time with just David again. As a married couple. Not Brady and Ella's parents. Discipline is a dirty word to so many people, but it actually is a good word. It's easy to love my little ones. When they do things that are less than perfection, all I have to do is look down at their cute little faces and my heart just about bursts. When David does something less than perfection, my heart just about bursts. But that's because I am so upset that my standards were not met. Yes, that is how I think. I'm admitting it because that's the first step to recovery, right?

I don't know how long my kids will be living under my roof. But I don't know how long David and I will spend living under one roof either. Not to be all melodramatic, but we all know of someone who was taken before us way before our time, not God's time, our time.

I'll spend this year, every second of every hour, loving my kids. But I'll also spend them loving my husband. Even when I don't feel like it. Even when he untucks the sheets at night and leaves the light on after he leaves a room. All I have to do is watch him love on our kids and I am reminded of why I chose this cute guy to be my partner in this wonderful, crazy life we lead.