TBT: The Sleepless Wonder

I know no more about how to get a child to sleep than I did a few years ago, but my compassion for parents/zombies has genuinely deepened.  Take heart, tired folks.  I'll keep the coffee brewing.  Enjoy this throwback from 2012 and know my prayers for rest are with you!


This week has been rough to say the least. Matilda is on her second bout of the stomach flu this week. The poor kid has been through the ringer. Not to mention, I've earned my fair share of badges in the categories of "clean up" and "disinfecting" over the course of the week. But, my other precious child has actually been the one keeping me up at night. Yes, this post isn't about Lysol, Listerine, and my Pursuit of Healthiness. Oh, no, this is going to be about my sweet Daphne, or as she's known around these parts: The Sleepless Wonder.

Was baby Daphne really this little?

What is it in my genes that has brought me these two precious bundles of joy that somehow have the will and wherewithal to keep themselves permanently awake. I say my genes, because, apparently my husband has always been a totally sound sleeper. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt that it is in his genes to magically rest undisturbed through just about anything...an earthquake, a nuclear missile, or say, even a screaming baby in the middle of the night. Whew. (Don't get me wrong, this dude is my ROCK...it's just the fact that he sleeps like one too makes me totally jealous!)

I have never been a good sleeper. My mom tells stories of being a zombie, nursing me as a baby night after night until one of us lost our minds and finally gave up the ghost and crashed. Even as a youngster I would hate going to bed, hate staying in bed, and insist that I just Was. Not. Tired. Which, as any reasonable adult comes to understand - is completely false. I'm pretty sure I spent most of my twenties trying to catch up on that lost sleep...but, it didn't matter. Now that I've finally found my desire to sleep - I'm once again thrown into a roller coaster of total snooze deprivation. Yes, yes...what goes around comes around and all that...hilarious, isn't it?

My babies just don't sleep. Matilda woke up every 2 hours for eight months straight. Even after I went back to work after the first three months, yep, she was up and at 'em like clockwork, and I would somehow drag myself into the office, being sure to keep extra toothpicks in my purse in order to keep my eyelids open at all times. It wasn't all terrible, I'll admit. I enjoyed our special bonding time in the middle of the night. I would gaze at her face, sweetly nursing back into dreamland, and try to memorize each little contour of her cheek in the dimness of the nightlight. I loved watching her little expressions - especially the jerky little smirks and smiles her lips would make while she drifted back to sleep, totally unaware of my staring at her. I genuinely missed those moments when she started sleeping through the night.

But, before that, you know what else I missed??? Sleep. I missed sleep. I missed not having to wake up in the dead of night with my heart racing as if a cannon had just gone off at the sound of my infant screaming like a banshee. I missed waking up feeling like I was ready for the day and not having to seriously concentrate to pick out matching socks. I missed drifting off to sleep peacefully instead of completely paranoid that the sound of my own heart beating would somehow awaken the beast from her delicate slumber in the crib down the hall. I missed choosing to have coffee in the morning instead of it being medically necessary for me to function or operate a piece of machinery (like a curling iron). Is it selfish to miss sleep? Is it unreasonable? It didn't even matter...I was too tired to care.

And, guess what? I'm dangerously close to approaching that level of sleep deprivation again. I think every parent or parent-to-be has pretty reasonable expectations about the first few weeks. They know it will be hard. They know they will be up in the middle of the night. But, God gives us that amazing amount of grace and compassion in our souls that are so incredibly in love with this new creation that we can't help but want to wake up again and again and care for this helpless little creature (who happens to be insanely adorable) and get to be the solution to all their problems...Yes! I can change you, sweet one! Yes! I can feed you, you cute little punker bottom. Yes! I can burp you, oh kissable little cheeky monkey butter bear blossom baby. (Well, the nicknames get a bit incomprehensible around 3 or 4 in the morning, see?)

So...what's to be done? How to get a baby to sleep through the night is such a mind-boggler for so many people, it's right up there in the "eternal question" category somewhere between "What is the meaning of life?" and "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop?" There are books and books and books and now blogs and articles and whole websites dedicated to just how you can solve all your baby's sleep problems (in three easy payments/steps/nights, etc...)

I've read my fair share. Believe me, I'm no stranger to research. When I want to know something, I put my heart and soul into it and seek out every last drop of advice I can get my hands on. I'm certainly no expert, so I've taken the time to actually look at what the "experts" do have to say. From "Ferberize" to "Baby Wise", from the "Baby Whisperer" to the "Happiest Baby on the Block". Just google "get baby to sleep through the night" and you will be up to your eyeballs in "do's and don'ts". And...my conclusion? The experts know absolute crap about my kid.

The experts know crap? Yes. All of them. No matter how educated or renowned they may be, you can absolutely find an "expert" to support anything: Swaddling is good. Swaddling makes the baby feel constricted. Don't sleep with your baby. Co-sleeping helps the baby feel secure. Pick up the baby to keep them from feeling unloved. Never pick up the baby or they will always cry to get your attention. Never let the baby fall asleep on you. Never lay the baby down awake. Always lay the baby down while still awake. Let the baby cry to help learn soothing techniques. Letting the baby cry only confirms to them that you think they are unlovable. Give the baby a pacifier. Never let the baby sleep with the pacifier. A baby needs a trigger to give them routine. Don't assign a prop to a baby or they will become dependent on it. There is no difference in a baby's ability to sleep through the night, they have to learn it. Every baby will eventually sleep through the night if you allow them to find their own pattern.

Drowning yet? Exactly. It's overwhelming. And all of the above information is straight out of "expert" advice. Well, the only thing it taught me was that apparently I've been doing everything wrong, no matter what I've been doing! Sigh.

Have a baby? Or going to have a baby? Take a deep breath. It's going to be okay. Put down the baby book, make some coffee (decaf if you must), hug someone (I won't tell if it is your cat or favorite pillow) and pat yourself on the back. Why? Because, congratulations - YOU know your baby best! You are all the expert you need.

I've read and read and read. I've asked a zillion moms (including my own, since, well, you know - she raised me and lived to tell about it). I've listened and learned and have a LONG way to go (if that wasn't obvious). But, if I know one thing, it's that those experts are NOT around in the middle of the night to pat me on the back and hand me a cup of coffee and reassure me that even if I pop her paci back in her mouth it is most likely not going to turn her into the next president OR the next serial killer. Deep breath. I have to stop thinking if I swaddle her wrong, surely she'll be scarred for life. If I let her nurse to sleep that she will surely grow up to be a hippie or cultist or libertarian. If I let her cry it out she will need extra therapy sessions, or maybe become the next American Idol (here's hoping that set of pipes goes to some good use!) Nope - there are no guarantees that my child will or won't turn out the way I think is best - or worst. I love her. I will care for her. I will provide for her. I have hopes and dreams for her. And right now, I hope that she sleeps and dreams her way through more than two hours at a time!

The fact is, these "experts" never address the one thing we are really all wondering but don't want to ask: How can I survive this? One night at a time. That's the truth. Some nights you will have extreme compassion and be able to rock your baby to sleep and she will still wake up every 20 minutes. Other nights you will want to throw your baby through the window because, just when you thought you had it all together, your sweet little bundle of joy discovered your wit's end and is now clenching onto the last nerve you never knew you had - and biting your nipple at the same time. And still, you love her. You survive. You have ups and downs. You have a perfectly scheduled routine one week, and the next week you find yourself eating cereal out of the box at 2pm and discover you've put on yesterday's dirty yoga pants on backwards. Someone will question your methods. Someone will do it better than you. Someone's kid will magically sleep through the night at 2 weeks and tell you all about how easy it was and you will want to punch her in the face. But, you will survive. I will survive. And so will Daphne.

Tonight we are going to let Daphne cry it out. She will wail and my heart will break. She will scream and my breasts will ache with the need to feed her and my soul will be crushing with the utmost of guilt. (Can you tell I'm looking forward to this?) It totally sucks. I hate it. But, when I look at my red-ring-eyed baby and see how insanely overstimulated she is, I know it is best for her. Am I selfish? Am I abandoning her? Am I crazy? All this and more will be haunting my thoughts tonight. But, echoing between each cry, each gulp, each beat of my heart will be the resounding truth: I love her. Trust me, we've tried it all. The co-sleeping, the triggers, the only-go-in-every-ten-minutes-so-she-is-reassured, and the list goes on. This is the last resort and this is what it came to with Matilda as well - and, after 3 nights of utter horror - Matilda was sleeping a full 12 hours straight. Whew - so, here we go again.

I don't want anymore advice. I don't even want sympathy. I want a good hug and a high five and a strong, strong cup of coffee. And prayer. And sleep. Good night.

TBT: Contagious

I wrote this post about a year ago, and I can't believe how LITTLE my baby Daphne was!?  I sure needed this reminder today, to pause and appreciate this season of life that is going to pass by in a flash.  I hope it provides you some focus and encouragement as well.  


Tis the season...for germs.  Time to stuff the stockings with Purrell and trim the tree with Kleenex, right?  Oh man, it seems like just about everywhere I turn someone is coughing or sniffling.  I'm feeling MUCH better (thank you, Lord!) than a few days ago, but awoke Wednesday morning to a sick husband and a sick baby!  (Somehow my three-year-old, Matilda, is so far getting through this week unscathed.  My best guess is that her super-human energy allows her to dodge most germs simply out of sheer speed!)

If anything trumps not feeling well...it's watching those you love not feel well.  Luckily, a couple long naps, vitamins, and decongestants seemed to ward off any real health villains for my husband; but, unfortunately the baby has not been so triumphant.  Is there anything worse than a sick baby?

What's worse (in my book, anyway) is that she didn't catch a cold...she caught a tummy flu bug.  UGH!  Wah-waaaah.  The poor sweetie bear.  Again, the only thing worse than cleaning up disgusting germs is having to watch your pitiful little 16-month-old stare at you blurry-eyed with her sad gaze of "Why mommy?" going unanswered.  Gosh, it just breaks my heart!

Having two kids and one of them be sick is a whole other ball game.  Instead of the usual Get off your sister, you're killing her! you have to referee them with a new initiative:  Don't touch your sister, you'll get sick!  You have to quarantine them both the best you can and about halfway through the day - by the time the sick one has sneezed on the other one, they've accidentally swapped sippy cups, and you catch them cuddling and just can't bear to break up the love-fest...well, you just cross your fingers and pray the plague doesn't go any further.  What's a mom to do?

Taking care of a sick baby is such a weird, odd, terrible little gift that I think God gives us moms.  I mean, it's awful, for sure.  If I could bubble-wrap my kids and shampoo them in Purrell, I'm sure I would, don't get me wrong.  It only takes one heinous Yankee-candle-of-all-diapers to convince you that baby-flu-bug is certainly the doing of the Devil himself.  Ugh.

But, since we do live in a fallen world where illness exists, why not take this moment to try and recognize God among the yuckiness?  Anything's possible here.  So, honestly, I feel the presence of Jesus when I am stopped COLD in my footsteps to throw everything else out the window in that moment and care for my baby.  Dishes stink.  Clothes rumple.  Floors crumb-up.  Whatever.

Daphne has not been able to nap in her crib the last two days.  Not a wink.  I'll rock or nurse her completely to sleep, multiple times, but as soon as I lay her down she springs up screaming and won't stop.  The only way she has been able to sleep during the day has been cuddled up ON me.  The first time was heartwrenchingly wonderful.  Endearing.  The kinds of moments you dream about as a mother.

The next few times...well, it progressively got awkward and a bit burdensome.  With an energetic 3-year old vying for attention, it just wasn't exactly the ideal situation.  Not only that, but when you have a 22 lb. anchor on your chest you can't exactly get anything done during the day.  This is when it occurred to me:  Shut up, Emily.  Sit still.  Look at your baby.  

Whoa, okay.  Right.  Put the iPhone down and focus on the present.  WHY is this so hard to do?  (Granted, I was glad I had the phone there just to capture the moment!)  I want to remember that feeling.  I wish I was the kind of person who never needed to be forced to STOP and smell the roses (or the baby), but I am.  I'm just so grateful that I could soak that up, as best I could (even if there was a dancing Matilda in the background at times) and allow that baby to smother her germy self into my body for that moment.

How many times does this happen in our lives?  How much longer will she turn to me for that amount of comfort?

It's such a challenge to hold still these days.  It's increasingly difficult to be thankful for tiny things like fragile babies with vomit-covered jammies and greasy hair and diaper rash.  It's frustrating to have our daily schedules overturned and interrupted and entirely disregarded.  But...it's so insanely worth it.

We always talk about how this baby/toddler stage of life goes by in a blink.  But, you know, if we can just slow down once in a while (even if that's only when the germs of life slow them down) then we get to capture a silent, beautiful moment where nothing else in the world matters but this sacred, sweet gift of our very own baby needing us for who we are - mom.  It may go by in a blink...but, we're in the midst of it right now...the part where your eyes are closed and you can still hear your heart beating outside your body.  Inhale, exhale.  Everything can wait.


I hope I remember this moment.  Maybe it's even contagious.

TBT: iParenting

Throwback Thursday, a post from Fall, 2012...

I am mighty proud to have my Pardy Man guest blog this week!  Josh Pardy is more than just a handsome hubby and devoted daddy...he's also a pretty kick-butt writer.  Check out his last guest-blog here, and enjoy this week's latest lesson in his life...

Sometimes a guy just needs a reminder. And though it may sound and look trite, I can’t tell you how many times that simple alert has saved me…and more importantly, my wife and kids.  Owning a GPS-ed, WiFi-ed, podcasting, text-receiving smart phone is just the best thing ever.  Sure I had to learn to limit myself when I discovered the likes of Angry Birds and Grantland, but the technology that is forevermore in my pocket functions as not just a great time-waster (though it certainly is that), but a powerful tool to help remind me of what’s truly important.

 It all started when I upgraded my phone and discovered a little thing called “proximity reminders”.  It’s actually pretty simple, you add a reminder to your phone, and rather than have it alert you at a certain time, you set the alert for when you get close to a pre-determined place.  As long as you don’t ever check the box next to the reminder, it will alert you (ad infinitum) as you approach your destination, day in, day out.  Ok, so maybe not so simple. 

In my case, I have the reminder “Be A Good Dad/Husband” set to alert me when I arrive at destination: Home.  Unless my phone is dead, it literally never fails.  As I come driving up to our apartment, the GPS senses that I am close to “Home,” and sends me a quick little ping: “Be A Good Dad/Husband.” 

“Be A Good Dad/Husband.”  Gee, certainly easier iReminded than done.  As a man, I take the responsibility of providing for my family very seriously.  I work hard, I get exhausted and elated, I can feel frustrated and sometimes just straight down-in-the-dumps.  And though I would love to say that simply seeing my girls causes all of that tension to just melt away, the fact of the matter is, it doesn’t.  

waiting for daddy

This Dad/Husband needs himself a reminder because he can carry around all of those raw emotions and totally miss the sweet simple joy that seeing his family can bring him after a long day at the office.   

And let me tell you, if I am willing to pay attention to it, this little reminder works!  Even after my most intense or draining days, somehow (God’s grace, most likely) seeing that little ping helps me reframe my mind, marshals energy from an unknown source, and readies me for whatever I may find when I open that door to the house.  

Probably the best part about it is, I set the reminder because I know it’s important.  Therefore, I am communicating my own desires to my own self in a way that won’t drive myself totally crazy.  I have only myself and my silly iPhone 4 to blame if I begin to feel nagged.

In the beginning, it was actually sort of embarrassing.  What kind of freako needs a proximity-based reminder to alert him of the fact that his kids need a hug, his wife needs a kiss, and everyone will need a healthy amount of attention before the night is over?  Well, truly, this freako needs it!  So I would make sure to dismiss the alert from my phones notification screen prior to walking in the door.  The alert would serve its purpose, and I would walk in ready to be the best Dad/Husband ever and no one would be the wiser to my little iParenting life-hack.  

But, one day I forgot to clear the screen.  I came in, threw my iPhone on the coffee table, plopped down and began to hear about my girls’ respective days when wouldn’t you know it, Emily went to hand me my phone and discovered the secret of my success. “Be A Good Dad/Husband” right there on the screen.  I mean really, how do you explain that?

“What’s this?” She asked.  “Oh, uh.  It’s just, like… a little something that I do…”  I stammered back. Then I copped to it and told the whole story.

Thankfully Emily thought it was sweet and not at all freakish.  But, I won’t lie, it was embarrassing! It was then that she affirmed to me that with or without the alert, I was doing a great job as a Dad and Husband.  We had a good laugh about it, but even still, most days I still need that reminder.    

Now I consider my proximity alert something of a merit badge that I will forevermore be pursuing.  It pings, I unashamedly take in its simple, yet profound message, I walk in the door and try to be a good a Dad/Husband.  That is one reminder box that I have never checked, and never will, because the work of a good Dad/Husband is never done. 

TBT: Toddlers Are Like College Students

It's Throwback Thursday on the blog!  While I'm in the midst of midterm mayhem in grad school, I look back on this blog with even deeper understanding (and need for it's humor) than I did when I wrote it a little over a year ago... Enjoy!

With all the "Back to School" commercials I see on TV these days, it makes me all jittery and nervous with that excitement and nostalgia flooding my mind as I think back to my own school days.  It's been a long time since I've been in school and my own kids have a few years to go (thank goodness!) but, it still makes me tense when I see all those ads for pencils and notebooks and new Reebok Hightops with the velcro (okay, maybe there aren't commercials for those anymore, but ever since that style has had a resurgence in fashion, it makes me miss my grade school days!)

I started having flash backs of my school days through the years:  the boisterous elementary years, the awkward and torturous junior high days, the long and full-of-attitude-and-angst (thanks 90s music) hours of high school that seemed to tick by ever-so-slowly, followed by the happy-go-lucky days of college...footloose and fancy free, indeed.

Even though you know that those times were filled with impossible drama and heightened emotions, as a grown up now days, you can't help but look back with a bit of wonder and joy at your own naiveté.  "Oh, it's funny how I thought I had actual problems back then!"   We always associate these things with adolescence...this sense of our "small planet" being all there is that just escalates and grows until we finally burst into the "real world" and have to get a job or have a baby or say vows to someone we would die for.

But, I don't think it starts in adolescence...I think it starts right after we are born!  And, the more I thought about this, the more I realized more and more how similar my two-year-old, Matilda, is to being just like those ripe-minded twenty-somethings daring to take on the world one foolish/brave notion at a time!  (Don't get me wrong, I love a dreamer - I grasp and grasp to hang on to my ideals with all I can!)  So, here, I've concluded a list for you to chuckle over; a "back to school" analogy for parenthood...

Why Toddlers Are Like College Students

1. They think they know everything.
2. They are sure you think you know everything, but are also very confident that you actually don't.
3. They expect you to feed them whenever they are hungry.
4. They have no money.
5. They want to wear pajamas all day.
6. It's perfectly acceptable for them to wear pajamas all day.
7. They believe toast is a meal.
8. They never make their bed.
9. They expect you to do their laundry for them. 
10. They like all cereal, but somehow it always ends up on the carpet. 
11. They can relate to every television show they watch.
12. No matter what you say to them, they probably disagree with you.
13. They aren't afraid to tell you how they really feel.
14. Their music is loud and annoying, but too catchy to ignore.
15. You wish you could get away with wearing the shoes they wear cause they're just so cute.
16. A backpack is a perfect accessory for any outfit.
17. They hate reading but they hate lectures even more.
18. They would stay up and play till the wee hours of the morning if they could.
19. They can never get enough Disneyland.
20. They are always overtired, but never want to go to bed.
21. They can talk for hours and you still might not understand what they're trying to tell you.
22. They think the world's biggest problem has something to do with bad guys that look like Ja'far.
23. They expect and want you to tell them what to do when they really need you.
24. They really need you when the toy they want costs more than your rent.
25. They make headbands look cool.
26. They believe a couch is just as good as a bed.
27. They are only as nice as their last nap was. 
28. A road trip always sounds fun to them until they are trapped in the car.
29. They cry when things don't go their way.
30. They cry when things totally go their way.
31. It's really hard to sit through church without playing on the iPhone.
32. They think milk goes great with every meal.
33. They love to experiment with new hairstyles.
34. Just because they wore the same outfit yesterday is no reason to change clothes.
35. They remember every inappropriate thing you say. 
36. They laugh at their own jokes, even if you don't.
37. Friendship means you share dress-up clothes.
38. They think libraries are basically only for social get-togethers. 
39. They believe adventure and new discovery could take place anywhere, anytime.
40. They expect to see every place on the planet that they want to see.
41. Someone smiling at them can truly change their day.
42. They want to play house but not commit to anything just yet.
43. They want to make friends with everybody.
44. They want to be the loudest person in the room.
45. They can see right through people who don't believe in them.
46. They always want a snack, even if they just had one.
47. The floor surrounding their toilet is always disgustingly filthy.
48. Their room can never be dark enough.
49. They feel loved when we buy them stuff, even little stuff.
50. When they pray, they talk to Jesus like He is sitting right in front of them. 

Kids.

You gotta love em.  

Happy new school year, everybody!

TBT: Crazy Pills

Today's TBT post is from April 2012...

Pretty often, maybe even daily, my husband and I will be watching our children, blinking hard past our exhaustion and find ourselves once again asking the same question we asked the day before: How do people do this every day?

Parenthood, that is. I mean, is it this hard for everyone? Are all parents just sitting in a daze all wondering if everyone else is wondering if it is this hard for them too?

The other Sunday, we were once again in the "wiggle room" with Daphne (8 mo) while Matilda ran amuck in nursery for the morning. While everyone pretty much keeps to themselves quietly, trying to absorb the lovely church service through the 45" plasma hanging on the wall, one can't help but observe others and their children. There was a sweet nearly-2-year-old girl just playing quietly while her mother nursed a new baby. They looked happy, well-rested and calm. Were they thinking the same thing about me?

I ran into the same mother in the restroom later, as we both changed our baby's diapers, and we quickly exchanged the names, age and birth experiences of our new daughters. Even though, by the end of our sharing, I found myself envious of her 1-hour labor story and sleeping-through-the-night 7 week-old (are you freaking kidding me?)...I still shared a mutual sympathy for her efforts. I think there is always an understood sentiment felt between women once they are ushered into the club of motherhood, and I felt that for her in this moment. That, even though I wanted to shout "You have it so easy!" I still could see the frazzled look in her eye, the worry in the tightness of her lips, and the nervousness in the intensity of her grip on her new baby that told me - she is still struggling to do the best she can just like me.

My children sleep so little that you would seriously

think I was filling their bottles with coffee.

We parted ways a bit awkwardly (as many encounters in the restroom can be) and I could tell I was headed in a different direction than she was. I didn't know how to end this conversation that went from "Aw, cute baby" to "how far were you dilated" in split seconds and now was curiously making its way back to normal-people-status. Uhhh. I wanted to say "It gets easier!" and leave her with one sturdy ounce of encouragement to make it through the next hour...but, literally, in that moment, I thought Does it? Does it get easier? I don't want to lie to this poor soul! It gets different, but so far it does not get easier! So, instead, as I was walking out the door, I turned awkwardly and just said "By the way, you look really great!" The end.

Yes, this was my awkward encounter with a strange new mother in a church restroom. But, you know what? She smiled. Mission accomplished. The next time you see a new mother in a frazzled state or looking discouraged...don't tell her it gets easier. Don't tell her to enjoy the moment or nap when the baby naps. Just tell her she looks fantastic and walk away. We need that. It's probably the one thing you could say that doesn't get old hearing.

So, this whole parenting thing - will it get easier? Let me narrow down what I'm talking about: exhaustion. Lack of sleep. Life progressing around you in a blur of picking up toys and cleaning spit-up. Surviving in warp-speed of tripping over laundry and get yet another meal on the table. Being. Tired. All. The. Time.

Am I taking crazy pills? Am I the only mother who is sitting here thinking "I really don't think other people understand"? Surely, not. So, then, are their children equally crazy? Do their children incessantly yell at them and demand their attention until it ends in a fit of rage and tantrum kicking? And then, of course, the next SECOND later the same children are smiling and saying "I love you mom-mom" and asking to read Cinderella again and SUCKING you back into that deep vortex of love that makes you want to buy them ponies and make home-baked-masterpieces that you only drool over via pinterest???

I see posts all the time of moms complaining/venting about how their kid won't sleep or eat or behave, etc. But then, I read further and find out that their baby woke up once during their 3 hour nap...and my head spins at the thought of having such a luxurious amount of time to fill with whatever I might choose. My children sleep so little that you would seriously think I was filling their bottles with coffee. Sigh. So, does that mom understand me? Does she look at me and envy that my toddler will eat her green beans? Does she read my posts and think "this crazy loon doesn't know how hard my life is!"?

Yes. Yes to it all. We are all taking crazy pills.

We are all exhausted in some area of parenthood somewhere, I just have to believe that. We are all trying to raise productive little souls that will be kind and grow up to make their own nutritious breakfast every day and not become serial killers who won't remember when Mother's Day is. We all wear clothes we have to wash and eat food we have to fix. We all work jobs that don't pay enough and drive cars that break down too much. We all have friends who we don't deserve, both good and bad. We all have crazy families who offer terrible advice and not enough help. We all are fighting The Man, the traffic and bad breath.

We will make it.

It may take a lot of coffee, even more prayer, and a crazy lady in the church bathroom telling us we look great to get us through one more day...but we will. We are parents. We are awesome.

Now, take two more crazy pills and call me in the morning. Cause trust me...I understand.

TBT: Meat & Potatoes

*In the spirit of TBT (Throw-Back-Thursday) - I thought it would be fun to start something new on Thursdays and re-issue some of my more popular posts.  This post is from November 2012 and I hope you enjoy it!

The other day, I was at a crossroads.  Perhaps you've been there before.  It was early afternoon and I was just beginning to think about that age old (yet, daily) question:  What's for dinner?  The pickings were slim.  I didn't want to order in (scratch that, I did want to order in, but we really couldn't afford it and I knew I shouldn't cop out of dinner-making one more time that week) and I definitely did not want to load up the girls in the car, unload them, scream and cry our way through a trip around the grocery store, and have to come all the way back home to start cooking.  Ugh, that sounded terrible to me.


So, I faced my cupboards and my fears and decided with all my might to figure out something that could be constructed into an edible excuse for supper.  I sighed as I sifted through my barren pantry, finding a can of this or that.  I yanked out my last pound of meat at the back of the freezer (ground turkey!) and found some frozen peas next to it.  I dug around the bins of my fridge and discovered leftover potatoes that hadn't rotted through yet.  I know, this sounds scary to most of you, but I was so determined to scrape by until payday that I had really let our kitchen become quite meager.  Still, I knew I could pull something together.  Something.

As I surfed the Internet for ideas, it suddenly struck me.  Maybe it was the crisp new chill in the air, but suddenly the need for comfort food hit my belly and mashed potatoes crossed my brain.  Aha - that was it - Shepherd's Pie!  For those of you who may not know, Shepherd's Pie is a sort of an old "peasant" kind of dish, meant for recycling leftovers for people who don't have access to the first round of good food.  It's a layered dish of meat and vegetables topped with mashed potatoes.  Generally, around here anyway, you see it with ground beef, carrots, corn, and peas.  The topping of buttery mashed potatoes is really its selling point, let's be honest here.

Voila!  Shepherd's Pie it was, and as the weather got chillier and our tummies grew hungrier, the better and better it was smelling.  Sure enough, by the time we ate, it was super delicious.  Yay - a hit!  And I was mighty proud that I had scavenged our cabinets and turned our humble means into something quite delectable.  (Great recipe here for those of you wondering!)

It wasn't until hours afterward, with my hunger and dignity satisfied, that it occurred to me what an analogy my day had become.  As I tucked my girls into bed for the night, exhausted from another haphazardly wonder-filled day, it struck me how motherhood is like that silly Shepherd's Pie.

In the day-to-day events, motherhood is such a mess.  It really is.  I must look at the clock about 13 times a day, and I have no idea why except for the fact that it helps confirm one thing to me:  this too shall pass.  I love motherhood.  Sincerely!  I cherish these precious girlies the Lord has blessed me with.  I want nothing more than to be with them, nurture them, engage with them, help guide them.  But, boy oh boy can they press my buttons!  Whew!

The hour-by-hour focus that two little toddlers requires of me is astounding.  At their best, they are talking non-stop, running around, climbing, throwing food or clothes, or trying to leap from furniture.  And at their worst, well, let's just say I've had to clean Play-Doh out of carpets, crayons off of walls, get glue and honey and paint and applesauce out of hair, and keep them from strangling each other with dress up clothes or jewelry.  It's crazy business, let me tell you!  In fact, just today it crossed my mind that, "Hey, God, if even EVE couldn't keep her kids from killing each other, how do you expect me to?!?"  Sometimes I wonder.

The everyday mischief is just like those peas and carrots.  It's just like that freezer burned ground meat or those nearly rotten potatoes.  You line it all up and it looks like nothing but a heap of garbage.  What a mess.

But, you're looking at it all wrong.  There's more to it then that.  (Hold on, I'm gonna go all Karate Kid on you here!)  How many times has an older mother passed by you and your youngins in public and looked at you sweetly, maybe even stopped and said something like "Oh, how wonderful, I remember those days!  Cherish them!"?  Do you think she is remembering the rotten potatoes?  Heavens, no.  She's smelling the Shepherd's Pie.

All these days, these terribly exhausting days of trouble, they are all adding up into a terrific era of our lives.  I just know it.  I can't quite see it, at least, not while I'm in the middle of it and just want to strap my toddler to her highchair so I can please just fold this basket of laundry that's been sitting in my living room for a week!  Please!?  But, I know it's true.

Some days, when the dust settles long enough for the sunlight to beam in just right and my girls are smiling and my brain hits pause just long enough to capture a moment in time that looks better than any Instagram filter ever could...I get a glimpse of the big picture.  I can very nearly imagine myself an old woman trying to recall this very moment.  I can almost smell the memory of the present, though it is happening right in front of me, as if it were decades ago and I'm longing for the sweet innocence of not knowing their futures.  I blink, and their older.  I blink, and I forget it all.  I blink, and suddenly I am back in the throws of the day and just struggling to survive once more.  Peas and carrots, again.

This daily struggle matters.  This mess that we're trying to make sense of, it will make sense before we know it, and all too soon we will be smacking our lips wondering why we ever thought it seemed so terrible.  We don't have to wait until then to believe it will be satisfying.  Take hold of it right now, dig right it, get messy and creative and believe in what you are doing, because before its all over you will want to know that this was part of what makes it great.

You're in the thick of it, mamas.  This is real meat and potatoes kind of life stuff.  Keep up the good work, and savor every second.

TBT: Non-Parents Just Don't Understand

*In the spirit of TBT (Throw-Back-Thursday) - I thought it would be fun to start something new on Thursdays and re-issue some of my more popular posts.  This gem is from March 2012 (ala "back when I had bangs") and I hope you enjoy it!



I love my kid-free friends, I really do. In fact, now that I'm a parent, maybe I sometimes like them even more than my friends who have kids. Okay, easy now, maybe not "more"...but, you have to admit that there are some days when the last thing you want to hear about is how someone else's kid threw up on them or how nap time was a total train wreck again, etc.

I mean, it is only natural to seek out friendship with fellow parents (fellow caffeine addicts) and partner together in sharing the ups and downs of this new job that epically transformed both your lives - to commiserate together and compare notes on which vegetable your kid isn't eating, pat each other on the back for making it through another sleepless night, and even (dare I say) ask advice when you are surely at the end of your rope and none of the ten books on your nightstand seem to hold the answer of how to get your toddler potty trained. We need each other, no doubt.

But, sometimes, once in a while, it is nice to sit across from someone completely outside of my new peer group and stare into their lives. Work. Dating. Drama. Freedom. Talking with a non-parent friend can be as good as a rerun of Felicity and a bowl of popcorn. It helps me vicariously get a taste of those long lost chapters of my life that I now view with such optimism.

Of course, at the time, drama with a boyfriend or a new conflict on the job with a co-worker was ten times more miserable than the worst day I can imagine with my babies at home (well, maybe not ten times). But, when I was able to be more central to the focus of my own attention, everything around me seemed to hold so much weight. And now - well, if it doesn't effect my kids, then it probably doesn't bother me. Honestly, give me a secure and protected nap time for my toddler, get my baby to eat her rice cereal gruel, and I'm a happy camper for the most part (sleep-deprived, but happy). This is all to say - I love my non-parent friends. They bring me joy and cheerfulness (and sometimes dinner!) and an appreciation of the memories I hold for that time in my life.

Before I had kids, I would have considered myself one of those women who was pretty accurate on my expectations of parenthood. I suppose this makes up about 99% of pregnant women out there. But, oh how there is a vast canyon (a gorge) between what you think you expect...and reality.

I truly had everything going for me - I had 7 nephews and nieces, I had been a nanny throughout the years in my twenties. I had even been the caretaker of premie newborn twins overnight. Yes, there were some things that I totally understood and could anticipate. Other gaps in my knowledge I attempted to fill with books, doctor's visits, even a twelve-week birthing class with my husband. That is to say, if there was a way to get my hands on a piece of knowledge in preparation for parenthood, I found it, swallowed it, and digested it until I was sick (or was that just morning sickness?)

Still, it wasn't until we brought that bundle of joy home with us that we began to fully be able to answer the question that was truly on our minds for the full nine-month journey leading up to it: What the heck do you do all day with a baby?

Oh, sweet, naive, free-as-a-little-bird non-parents. Nothing can prepare you for this answer. The unpredictability of every day since bringing home that baby has only grown - much like the baby herself! I won't drone on and on about how we fill each and every hour (otherwise, what would I have to write about next week?) But, rather, I'd like to submit the following letter...a letter to the parent-friends I knew, back when I was that same non-parent friend coming by to gab about my latest drama...

Dear Parent-Friends of my past,
I had no idea what hard workers you are! Oh my. I have greatly underestimated your day, your endurance, your sheer fortitude in perseverance. I'm sorry that I would get frustrated when you would interrupt our conversations on the phone to tend to your kids. I'm sorry it was super annoying to me that you would alter between baby-talking to your child and then turn to me with a half-listening ear as if there wasn't a kid screaming at you. 

I'm sorry I didn't help you fold laundry or do dishes when I came over for dinner. I'm sorry that I would sit and watch TV while you put your kids to bed and I wouldn't even pause the show for you until you came back into the room - and little did I know you were trying to do the speedy-to-bed version of their favorite storybook just so you could spend a few more minutes with me. I'm sorry that I would talk on and on about myself and my life drama and expect you to give me a complete analysis full of sound advice, while I wouldn't even bother to ask you how your day was...or, if I did, I would roll my eyes as if your story about your child losing a library book or not getting their nap was of lesser importance than my "real" issues. 

I'm sorry that I didn't offer to babysit more often and for free and without expectation. Did I tell you that I value looking at your life and your marriage as a wonderful example? I'm sorry I didn't support you more tangibly, especially in exchange for all the words of wisdom you freely offered me. I'm sorry I didn't appreciate what you did all day. I'm sorry that I actually thought you had one of the easiest jobs simply because you didn't leave the house all that often. I'm sorry I didn't realize you didn't leave the house all that often because it would take half an army to get you out the door on time - and I'm sorry I would get annoyed when you did arrive late if we met at my place instead. 

I'm sorry I didn't bring the outside world to you more often. I'm sorry I didn't ask you more intelligent questions...that simply because I saw you sing "Itsy Bitsy Spider" 8,000 times to your child at bath time I figured you wouldn't be the person to ask about the latest crisis in Africa or what a certain Scripture meant. I'm sorry I didn't think of you as an equal breadwinner in your home simply because your husband has an "employer". 

I'm sorry I didn't play more fervently with your children when I came over so that they would sleep better for you that night - because, there I was thinking I knew what exhaustion was since I had stayed up talking with my friends all night. I'm sorry I feared for your style when you would meet me at the door in pajama bottoms. I totally judged you and thought you were being lazy. I'm sorry if I made you feel worse just by showing you how cute my new manicure was. I'm sorry I didn't send you out for a manicure, right there in your pajama bottoms. 

I'm sorry I didn't realize what a triumph you were doing with your kids - really, truly, stellar work. They are kind and funny kids and I actually like them a lot, and their clothes almost always matched alright. That was all you - making sure they were polite and in order - and there I was thinking the whole time it might be sort of nice to have a kid someday if they came out like that - easy, polite, and matching and all. 

I'm sorry I waited until now to tell you that you are a huge reason I decided to have children at all - and I think of you every time, every day, when I question whether or not I'm actually fit to be the person in charge of these little humans who teeter on the brink of outsmarting me by the hour. 

Thanks for humoring me and encouraging me and inspiring me. Thanks for feeding me and making time for me and offering me a glimpse into a future that I can now be confident in living out. I hope I can extend the same amount of grace and wisdom (even an ounce?) to the non-parent friends I now have (Lord Bless 'em).

In all sincerity,
Emily