Please-mind the gap-I am that kind of mom:

I am the kind of mom that has dance parties in my pjs at noon. I am the kind of mom that steps over the laundry for days sometimes, just to get to the pile of train tracks waiting to be assembled. I am the kind of mom that thinks my kids are some of the best buddy’s I have. I am the kind of mom that lovingly prepares home cooked meals, but also grabs that bag of to go without guilt. I am the kind of mom that is ok with the mess, because sweet memories are being made. I am the kind of mom who instead of always making my toddler slow down, learns to get faster. I am the kinda mom who loves a good adventure. I am the kinda mom who researches and reads a million things, but relies on my gut feeling in the end. I am the kind of mom that is annoyingly involved in all they do, touch, see, hear. I am the kind of mom who graduated summa cum laude and chooses to be home with her kids. I am the kind of mom who actually did love school and anticipates going back one day. I am the kind of mom that dreams dreams for myself AND my children.

I am the kind of mom that was diagnosed with infertility, after four years of no answers. I am the kinda mom that used to ache at the mention of Mother’s Day. I am the kind of mom who genuinely rejoiced at others baby news, while quietly pining for my own. I am the kind of mom that despised taking pregnancy test. I am the kind of mom that experienced healing in my heart through our journey to our babies. I am the kind of mom that loved every unglamorous second of pregnancy. I am the kind of mom who sees my post baby body as a prize for a job well done. I am the kind of mom that sees babies as a blessing, however they come into your heart and home. I am the kind of mom that hopes to lift other mothers up in their silent battles-not tear them down in a game of comparison.

I am the kind of mom that has plenty of gaps. I am the kind of mom that sometimes watches the clock for the bedtime hour. I am the kind of mom that uses tv for a babysitter. I am the kind of mom that gets tired. I am the kind of mom that says no, because it’s good for them, but hard for me. I am the kind of mom that gets angry when I shouldn’t. I am the kind of mom that sets boundaries and standards that are seemingly unfair. I am the kind of mom others may classify as the “mean mom” at times. I am the kind of mom who questions her ability. I am the kind of mom who feels overwhelmed by tasks and children needing me at the same moment. I am the kind of mom who makes mistakes. I am the kind of mom who needs a target break.alone. I am the kind of mom who wishes her coffee didn’t get cold “so fast”. I am the kind of mom who is learning and refining her own heart everyday.

Above all-I am the kind of mom who is saved by His redeeming grace-who wakes up every morning to two beautiful little blessing babies. I am the kind of mom who humbly rejoices at getting to be their mama. I am the kind of mom who gives all my heart, mind, body, and soul to my littles so that they know they are loved, seen, and heard. I am the kind of mom that prays hard and loves big; yes, I am that kind of mom.

Whatever that “kind of mom” looks like for you in this season of life; embrace it, grow in it, cherish the hard and the happy, show up for the show, and remember you are enough.

My darling dimpled boy, I can hardly believe you are a year old! It simultaneously feels as though you have been here always, in every moment of our memories, and equally as though you have not been with us long enough. 
One year. One entire year. So many days, months, years were you prayed for, yearned for, hoped for; and how long those years felt while we waited for the answer. Then, suddenly as we were accepting the path of infertility after years of battling that diagnoses, you happened. You my sweet angel boy were given to us in a time when we never expected to be gifted-at the end of surrender and the beginning of a new dream you came. And now, as I type this with tear filled eyes, I’m reminded of His love for us, His perfect timing, His faithfulness. When I look into your grace filled face, hold you in my arms, and kiss your squishy little cheeks my heart is full.

  For one whole year you have brightened your dada and mamas days, bringing sunshine to the PNW with your contagious smile. Always the analyst, you are a observer of people and I’ve witnessed you both charm and intimidate your acquaintances instantly upon entering a room. You are brave and adventurous, a lil mischievous, and a lot cute. The only thing you are consistently afraid of is the vacuum, although you have no trouble playing with and subsequently hiding all the attachments when it’s off (which I believe is some sort of retaliation for the offense it first committed to you).

You are my best adventure buddy and generally share my enthusiasm for our outings, be it to Target for the 100th time or the children’s museum, you chatter with me and oblige yourself to my shenanigans. However, let it be noted, you also share our fondness for routine and the comforts of home; a quality I must admit I’m glad you delight in. 
Although you are ever on move these days, you are always a fan of snuggles. You will cross a room to be in your dads arms and more times then I can count have volunteered to be held over exploration and freedom. I sincerely hope you never lose this affection for others my love, it does both you and all those who participate such good. 
My do you have a voice. I love that you are opinionated. While that’s challenging and a test of my patience at times, our job is to lead you, love you, train you, and I don’t want to break that in you. You are designed to participate in this world, and your voice means something. Learn to be humble in your approach, but know your mind. Stand for something or you will fall for anything. 

Chicken is your favorite food, followed closely by berries, and broccoli. Taking drinks from the ‘big cup’ is a treat and you like to stalk us for sips and bites. Dory is often found in our house, Pooh Bear is your bestie, and outside is one of your favorite places to be. Dads arrival home every evening is easily the highlight of your day and moms good for those spontaneous cuddle sessions when he’s not around;). We often find you “reading” books in your teepee or strolling through the house narrating your movements from room to room. While you generally sleep 12 hr stretches every night, you would prefer it not be in your crib, but rather in our arms, a yearning that’s proved hard to resist #cosleepnosleep. Anything to do with water draws you, probably because you’ve picked up the affinity from so much dory, I’ve no doubt that you will be our lil fish one day soon. Changing your clothes is like wrestling an alligator down in the bayou(based solely on my observation from swamp people), you would prefer to run around half clothed 24/7 like a lil baby mowgli. You hair is blonde with a subtle red tint, ode to the Irish in ya, and forms the most perfect kewpie curls just like your dads used to. Your sparkly blue eyes and toothy grin get me every time, and I have a camera roll full to prove it. 
How treasured you are to all that know and love you, and oh let me tell ya darlin, you are loved. You have an entire country filled of family that love you, prayed for you, and subscribe to the happenings of your life. You have so many people in your corner, never feel alone. 
As this chapter of infancy closes and we move forward to a new season Know this, my boy: countless times this year I have whispered up prayers to the Lord to thank Him. To thank Him for choosing me to be your mama. To thank Him that He made us into a family. To thank Him that you are our little. Thankful. That’s how I feel today. Thankful and blessed. Blessed by my Asher boy. 

Happy 1st Birthday, my Asher Lee. I love you forever and always. 

Mommy

It takes a village. At least that’s what we’ve been told. One usually hears the phrase uttered at, or by, an exhausted mom in the throes of child rearing. Personally, I must admit the words have never held an endearing attribute to me. In fact, they tend to resemble the familiar ambiance of the expression “bless your heart”, uttered by a slick southern tongue and followed with a gentle, but judgmental head nod at the end. Let’s just say, I never feel “blessed”, and the village is never there when I need them.

A typical day in the village looks something like this; your morning starts uneventfully enough, coffee is brewed and served with a side of steaming hot guilt, the comparison game begins, Suzy Q down the street becomes your new family life expert, books are being ordered, outfits are being staged, and every parenting decision you have made up until now is brought into question. Discouraged and paralyzed you seek advice from the village at large and find your method to be antiquated, trending societal norms begin to come to mind, out of fear and exhaustion we think, “if everyone else is doing it”, and then fall into bed making resolutions that we have no plans to keep, all because the “village” thinks it’s best. I know, because I’ve been there. Now, having arrived at the outskirts of town, I’m here to say: I’ve seen the village and I don’t want them raising my child.

The word village, has such a disconnected and cold feeling to me. More situational and fluid, when what we long for is something communal. Particularly in today’s society, where everything is permissible and parenting is an adjective more often than a verb, I’m looking for expectations, standards, and common goals. What I desire as a parent is a framework to build within, not a prism dependent on time, place, and situation, but how can we create that if we are constantly rocking with the ebbs and flows of the latest village trend? Well, we can’t. Plain and simple.

This realization was a turning point for me. An “ahah!” moment in the vast sea of mom firsts. At this point, I was teetering on the edge of self-doubt; so, I took a deep breath and jumped in head first armed with a thing called instincts. You may have heard of this, it’s what our mothers, grandmothers, and the women before them used to raise children, turns out they can be quite handy. Choosing to believe in myself was an empowering step. I know my child best, and I know myself best, so where better to start molding one’s parenting style then with the clay itself. A weight was lifted. Decisions were made. The day continued and nobody died. We “survived” is frequently the end cap accomplishment for the day. Yes, I regularly reevaluate my decisions, brainstorm, implement new methods, scrap the plan entirely, but I consider that growth now, not failure and for the days that I’m not feeling so Pollyanna-ish I have my tribe.

Now, that might not sound too different from the aforementioned village, but to me it has an entirely different vibe. MY tribe consist of family, friends, community, people that are in our life by choice because they belong there. That doesn’t mean I’m exclusive to a “members only” policy, I’m always eager to welcome another into the clan, initiation ceremony and all, it just means I’m careful with the people I welcome into our space. There’s no doubt about it. Motherhood is draining, it’s physically, mentally, and emotionally more exhausting then anything I’ve ever done in my life and I’m just at the beginnings of this journey. But that’s where my support team, my tribe, my band of mothers, if you will, step in. When my momma heart needs a rest (or defibrillator depending on the day), that’s when I call on my tribe. It’s a phone call, a text, a long walk, a cuppa warmth, a heart post, an insta-feed, it’s a gentle word or a kick-in-the-pants, they always know my need. When I’m yearning for encouragement, relation, a little nugget of honesty-dare I say, authenticity even- I seek out my people. A community of common hearts. Truth speakers. Beautiful souls. A tangible picture of His love. A blessing in my every day. They are my tribe. I need them. As cliché as it sounds, you need them too. Find your tribe and love them hard.