Busy

How are you these days?  Let me guess:  You're too busy, kind of exhausted, and not exactly sure how you're going to make it to next week. 

You are in good company, friends.

We're all so darn busy.  I don't know anyone who isn't busy at least almost all the time.  Even the people who have every excuse not to be busy seem to magically fill their days with obligations and expectations that inordinately can not be met by the average human.  Why do we do this to ourselves?  Is there some gold medal at the end of it that I'm unaware of?  And if there was, is it worth it?

While I, too, am a zombie running on inspiration and caffeine, I'm also a huge fan of "boundaries" and trying my best to walk the fence of efficiency and sanity.  That's a hard line to tow, and it's rarely accomplished without falling off the fence entirely at times, only to climb back up with a few scrapes and bruises.

I like to be busy.  I thrive when I'm surrounded by goals and support; having something that I can keep my eye on and lean on at the same time.  But, as much as a risk taker as I am, I also tend to overcommit myself or stretch my efforts too thin before I figure out it's too late.  As I learn and grow in my boundary-setting, however, I'm beginning to understand that it's really never too late to establish limits for myself.  Breaking and establishing limits is a huge part of growing up, after all, and it doesn't stop just because you have two kids and a mortgage.

Busy is different for different people.  My kind of busy includes being a wife, mother of two, full-time grad student, freelance writer, and part-time worker at the mall, as well as soon-to-be taking on some internship hours for my degree requirements.  Yes, my plate is full.  And, your plate is probably equally as full, just taken up by more or less of other people/activities/obligations that you've set in motion.  Somehow, we're all doing something to fill our time, and we're all ending up tired, yet passionate enough to keep going.

When I first took on my part-time job at the mall (working at Pottery Barn Kids) it started as a seasonal, Christmas job.  I thought it would only last a few months, and I was just as surprised as anyone when they asked if I would consider staying on and I accepted while minimizing my commitment to just a couple shifts a week.  At first, I thought What in the world am I doing? thinking I was, yet again, doomed to my habit of overcommitting and going to have to back out within weeks.  But, that hasn't been the case, and I can tell you exactly why.

Keeping my little part-time gig has brought more relief to my schedule than burden.  I'll be honest, it's a lovely place to work.  The people are kind and considerate for the most part, the place is cute and clean, and while I'm hardly making any extra money there, it's just enough to ease my mind a bit when my kid's sneakers all of a sudden don't fit overnight!  (Life doesn't stop for growth spurts!)

But, what really has kept this in my hectic schedule is that the hours I work there have forced me to deliberately allow myself a mental break from life's normal chaos and greater obligations.  When I'm there, I simply can not check my iPhone, listen to my daughter's whining, do household chores, catch up on homework, or distract myself with some ridiculous thing online that I probably don't have time for anyway.  I have some very simple, straightforward tasks to busy myself with for the night (be kind to customers, help organize/scan merchandise, take out the trash, etc) that don't require much brain power.  As silly as it sounds, working at the mall is almost as close as it gets for me to having a night off.

Even Garfield gets it.

I have had to turn down other things because my schedule was full.  I have had to miss out on some opportunities or get-togethers because I've carved out this time in my schedule to do X-Y-Z.  But, I have also gained some new perspectives on how and why I do the things I do.  I am a big believer in "you do what you want to do" and the truth is, right now it is healthier for me to have this part-time job than not!  If you find yourself with a schedule full of things you'd rather not be doing, it may be time to ask yourself why in the world they are important to you?

I'm not sure how we're all supposed to juggle everything.  For each person who looks at another and wonders "How do they do it?" probably ten more are looking at them and thinking the same thing.  We're not meant to live someone else's life or juggle their to-do list for them.  I am taking life one day at a time, just like everyone else, and curious how the hours will pan out from week to week.  Time can feel like a giant puzzle when you are trying to grasp all that it has to offer.

Be busy.  Be productive.  But, don't forget to carve out some time for yourself to mindlessly incorporate something that can allow you some freedom from your busy-ness.  Don't get me wrong, I also require plenty of down time to completely shutdown and submerge myself into something purely relaxing (like, watching reruns of Modern Family or "reading" the latest Oprah magazine).

But, whatever it looks like for you, I can guarantee that the rest of your busy life will thank you when you allow yourself limited time to limit yourself.

Class

Well, enough of you kind folks have inquired as to how my class went on last Friday, I've decided to indulge you.  ;)

As part of my grad school curriculum, I was given the opportunity to teach an undergrad Marriage & Family Therapy class for one day.  My topic was "Ethical Dilemmas" and to be honest, only a few weeks ago I probably knew as much about the topic as any of you (or possibly, much, much less).  So, I did what any good American would do, and began with googling "what is ethics" and went from there!

Certainly, I was able to read ahead in my studies (since, ironically, we have yet to cover this subject in my own grad classes - yikes!) and track down some literature that helped me learn more about the subject and led me to do what every good teacher ends up doing when preparing for a class:  scavenging YouTube clips of relevant material.

The class I taught was about 20 students, mostly upperclassman, and the majority were female.  The professor met me at the beginning of class and was incredibly encouraging as I set up my prezi ("prezi" is the new hipster method of PowerPoint as I've recently come to find out) and looked out upon my minions...er, I mean students.

I figured I probably looked a million years old to them and while I may have smiled back with a trying-to-hard-to-get-them-to-like-me smile, I knew they expected me to know what I was talking about when I opened my mouth, and that was an exhilarating and daunting feeling.  Lucky for me, I was armed with a bag of KitKats and fake-it-till-you-make-it confidence that none of them seemed the wiser to.

I introduced them to ethics, what it was, what makes up an ethical dilemma, and we began watching a variety of clips I pulled to demonstrate the breadth of how and where and why ethical dilemmas present themselves among the most mundane to the most dramatic of circumstances.  Hunger Games, Breaking Bad, Grey's Anatomy, and an old smoking ad that showed a medical doctor endorsing Camel Lights helped spur our conversation about recognizing the ethics in a variety of situations.

Finally, I showed them the "ethical dilemma of all ethical dilemmas" and played the clip of Sophie's Choice that I'm sure left them all scarred for life.  To my surprise, one student actually knew the name of the film and the cinephile in me was proud that apparently someone is still teaching these kids pop culture influences within cinematic history.

After this, I broke them into groups where they came up with their own ethical dilemmas and had to distinguish the two sides (at least) to the situation and give pros and cons (or, cons and cons) for each side.  This played out well (the KitKats didn't hurt) and they seemed genuinely engaged as they shared their dramatic scenarios which ranged from heart transplant narratives to euthanizing a family pet.

With each story, I then (here's where my extemporaneous speech background comes in handy!) "upped the ante" on the spot and made the choices even harder.  For example, one group suggested the ethical dilemma of choosing between giving a heart transplant to a mother or a doctor...and after we discussed that, I said "what if it was an elderly nobel prize winner and a twenty-year-old criminal?"  It was nice to see the wheels turning in their heads.

I wrapped up the class with some talk about the Code of Ethics that therapists abide by, what that means and how we use it and/or struggle with it.  And, I gave them the basic outlines for assessing situations within therapy that might present ethical dilemmas and how those are approached in professional practice.

Overall, it was awesome.  It was refreshing to be in front of a group of students who were respectful and engaged.  I don't think I'll be applying for any teaching positions any time soon, but I'm grateful for the experience and humbled that my colleagues entrusted me with the responsibility of it.  It also makes me really, truly grateful for my college professors (past and present) and the unseen amounts of time and energy that they surely pour into their work day in and day out.  Wow.

Professor Pardy, signing off.

Smarty Pants

So, today I am stepping way out of my element.  I'm teaching an undergrad Psychology class about Ethical Dilemmas this afternoon.  Whhhaaaa?!

Yeah, I wouldn't have put this on my bucket list, but now that I'm doing it (even if it is just a one-time thing) I feel like I should place "Teach a college class" on the list just so I can cross it off!

I have never taught a class.  I think the closest I've come is helping out in a youth group or speaking to college girls as an RA (back in the day!)  But, today, I'm walking into a classroom full of students who will look at me with apathy in their eyes and think "I hope this old lady shows some YouTube clips and talks fast."

Well, hope-of-our-future, you are in luck - I will be showing many YouTube clips and I do speak rather quickly.  I'm not going to change any lives today (I mean, that's not in my powerpoint anyway) but, today's experience will change my life.

These students have no idea that this is a big moment for me, that it is adding a new feat to my resume, stepping out of my comfort zone to talk about a topic I really have barely scratched the surface on myself, and putting on my smarty pants to act like I'm the most knowledgeable person in the room.  (Ha!)

Being back in school has catapulted my desire for learning.  Turns out, I'm a major geek when it comes to topics I really enjoy learning about.  WHO KNEW!?  And, I have a new motivation for making sure I present intelligence as a foremost strength for my daughters to witness and want to imitate.

Why is it so hard for women to own their intelligence?  It can feel so daunting and uncomfortable to say things like "Mommy loves to learn! Mommy is smart!"

Like, am I setting the bar too high for them?  What if I'm really not that smart?  What if they have a hard time learning?

Worries are normal, especially when it comes to raising kids!  But, when I really start to think through those doubts, I quickly realize how insecure I can sound.  Maybe all those things have a grain of truth to them, the expectations and hopes that I have might be very ideal.  But, the alternative is not an option.

Not only do I want my girls to see me being a strong, confident, smart woman...but I want them to see that I'm challenging myself, overcoming doubts and taking risks.  I want them to see that it's a struggle, that I have worries, that I pray through so so so many of my weaknesses and therefore become stronger because of them.

Maybe this is the only class I'll ever teach.  Maybe I'll totally blow it and lecture the entire time with food in my teeth.  Maybe I'll be amazing and inspire another girl to become a therapist (hey, I can dream big!)  But, it's true what they say about the "teacher learning the most in the room"; and, today, I've learned what it means to make sure my girls know they have a smart mother.  

Smart women encourage others to be smart.  Own it!  Live it!  And, let's raise daughters who grow up to teach their daughters that learning never ends.

Mall Rat

Happy Holidays!  Wait - already????

Yes, apparently so.  The mall is already decked out from top to bottom in tinsel and garlands.  The Christmas tree is up and there are creepy reindeer and little elves on every corner staring down at the shoppers as they pass from store to store.  And...I would know this because the mall is my new home away from my home away from home.  Yep, I've added yet another obligation to my already cringe-worthy schedule:  seasonal help at the mall!

I've accepted a part-time position at Pottery Barn Kids at a nearby mall.  It's a beautiful setting chock full of ridiculously expensive items that I'm sure I'll be tempted to splurge on (but, alas, cannot afford) in every nook and cranny.

Am I a glutton for punishment?  Am I trying to be the first overachiever at overachieving?  These are excellent questions, and ones I've considered myself!

As a wife, a mother of two, a freelance writer, and a full-time grad student, I often feel like I already have about a dozen jobs to juggle.  The simple truth, however, is that I'm spending a WHOLE bunch of time to a whole lot of work that doesn't really pay anything.

And, well, if you've ever been a kid on Christmas morning you realize how disappointing it would be if you opened your stocking to discover a note that says "Your mom wrote you a blog for Christmas!  Love, Santa"  Hmmm, yeah, that doesn't fly with a 4-year-old and 2-year-old.  Haha!  So...mommy's picked up a little seasonal job to help Santa's Christmas budget along.  :)

I'm excited about it, actually!  As much as the reality is that I'm working for the money, I'm excited to embrace a new opportunity to meet people, be around lovely holiday decor, and somehow let my gifts be used in a new setting.  I'm able to work evenings and weekends, so I'm thankful to have a willing husband who is getting some quality time with our girls when I'm away.  This is a TEAM Pardy effort, no doubt - just like parenting and school and work are.

Certainly, I'm convinced more caffeine than actual blood is running through my veins these days.  Don't get me wrong - I've pretty much abandoned the idea that "balance" exists, and I'm fully depending on the grace of God to get me through the days ahead.  But, as I bring you in on this new chaotic step in my life, I hope that it will encourage you to just love what you are doing wherever you are, and to look for the ways in which God can use you no matter what.

So - be kind to those crazy checker-outers at the mall as you shop this holiday season!  It's gonna be nuts out there, with shoppers and sales seeming more intense than ever before.  Keep your cool and smile as you shop - you never know when you might be smiling at an insane, wife/mother/writer/student who is doing her best to keep it all together.

God is good.  And the season for smiles is just getting started...

Keep it Simple: Confessions of a Mult-Tasker

Women are known to be superior multi-taskers.  Mothers are the super-human versions of the ultimate multi-tasker, wearing multiple hats that help them meet the needs of others, their home, and themselves.

This morning, my 2-year-old woke me up at 4am.  I heard the "click-clunk" of her door opening and her little feet pattering in hall coming my way.  I got out of bed, met her at the doorway, and scooped her up in my arms.  She didn't say anything, no crying or whining, and she simply melted into my neck as I breathed in whole hunks of her whispy hair that still smelled of sleepiness.

Who knows what woke her up?  A bad dream, a strange sound, or maybe just restlessness had prompted her to crawl out of her crib at an ungodly hour and come find comfort.  Either way, she just needed her mama.

I rocked her in my arms a bit before returning her to bed.  I swayed back and forth, stroking her hair and rubbing her little back, remembering the hours I would spend doing this when she was but an infant.  I am so grateful for these times when my being provides everything that is an answer to her needs - I know it won't always be so simple.

In my weariness, this sweet moment made me nostalgic, and I thought to myself - Oh how I wish I could only be a mother.  I laid my sweet baby in her bed and snuck quietly out of the room, miraculously not waking her sister laying in the toddler bed only a foot away.  I went to go back to sleep, and spent the next hour pondering the sadness of my nostalgic thought.

Then, it occurred to me:  What if I gave myself the freedom to just be a mother? What would it look like to just let myself do that?  I don't need to be everything all at once all day long.  I can't be.  Why am I trying to be, for goodness sake.

I'm wearing a lot of hats these days.  As a wife and mother, a writer, and a grad student, I often feel like I'm working three full-time jobs with no pay.  My days are filled with the hazy lines of where one part of me ends and the other begins.  I find myself increasingly frustrated with not being able to "find balance" or multi-task beyond my capacity.

When I first became a mother, I had three glorious months of maternity leave.  I stayed home, stared at my baby, and knew it was a sacred time in my life that would be short-lived.  It wasn't "easy" by any means, but it was simpler and such a special time in my life that it needs no romanticism to be remembered as lovely.

When I returned to work, I had a new schedule that included working from home one day a week.  This started off fine - as my newborn slept on and off throughout the day and remained immobile in her swing or bouncy seat while I did the work I needed to do.  However, as my baby grew, so did her needs; and it wasn't long before I yearned for the separation between work and home as I chased my crawling child, made a phone call, attempted to nurse her, and answered emails all at the same time.  It was crazy-business, and it made both jobs SO much harder.

Here I am again.  I have two kids who I desperately want to engage with.  I have the luxury of being able to stay at home with them and be with them.  And I am constantly allowing myself to be bogged down with the pressures of work and school that are all vying for first place in a mental race inside my head.

I'm needing to re-establish some serious boundaries in my life.  I'm realizing that motherhood is the only job that doesn't allow for you to tell others "I'm sorry, can't you see I'm working right now?  That will have to wait."  If I was sitting in a cubicle at a computer, I would never expect another employer to walk up to me and ask me to mop the floor while I was sitting there.  See what I mean?  So, why am I expecting myself to be able to work for multiple "employers" all at the same time?  I'm just being a bad boss if that's what I expect.

I need to let work be work time (even if it's at 5 in the morning like today), let school be school time (even if it means watching less TV), let couple time be couple time (oh yeah, I have a husband I adore), and let mommy time be mommy time.  I want to want to be there for my kids.  I'm tired of letting my other (albeit important) tasks interrupt the focus of my life.

I needed to be reminded that life can be simple.  It can be me, holding my child, just swaying and praying, and that is more than enough to take up all of me in that moment.  I'm praying now for God to help me be able to establish clear lines of how to appreciate it all, but not feel like I need to do it all at once.  I'm called to be a wife and mother, a writer, and a grad student at this time in my life.  This season is not as simple as I might have once thought it would be, and maybe you know how this feels too.

How many jobs are you trying to do at once?

If you're like me, then it's rare that you just hold your kid and only be a mom for a moment.  I'm always thinking ahead to the next chore on my list:  what emails need to be sent, what chapters need to be read, that project I'm presenting, that paper that's due soon, what blog should I be working on, that article I'd like to write, those contacts I need to connect with, that phone call I should return. those library books that are overdue, the milk that's running low, the meat I forgot to thaw, the oil change that my car needs, the birthday card I have to get, that check I need to mail, etc. etc. etc.

Welcome to the mind of a woman, right?

How did my life get so crazy that I'm trying to juggle all these things at once!?  (And I'm guessing your life is no less crazy - we each have our own version of juggling mayhem!)  I remember learning to juggle tennis balls in gym class.  I was never very good at juggling, but one thing I do know is that when you learn to juggle, you don't throw all the balls up in the air all at once - you'll only watch them all fall down in chaos.  But, if you keep your eye on one ball at a time, you can get into a rhythm that allows you to focus on each one of them in their given time.

I know I can't always keep the boundaries from intersecting.  Sometimes I will have to stop swinging my girls and take a phone call.  Sometimes I'll need to put my kids in front of the TV so I can cook dinner or write an urgent email.  And sometimes it will be a great example for my girls to see that their mom loves what she does by using the gifts that God has given me and why it's important to work hard.

But...most times...being a mom is the only thing I need to be for my kids.

They don't need me to be a student, or a writer, or a great cook, or a perfect housekeeper, or a super hero.  I can't juggle it all on my own, and I want my girls to grow up knowing that I didn't!  I have a supportive team and a mighty God who is here to keep me in line and encourage me along the rocky road of life.  And, I have two sweet daughters who gave me the (literal) wake-up call to remember how simple it really can be.

[Time to put the computer away.  My mommy shift is about to start.]

Midterms

It's been a long, long time since I've had a midterm.  In fact, the last time I even heard the term "midterm" was to reference the status of reaching halfway through my pregnancy and it had nothing to do with homework at all.  The only test I had to pass back then was the anatomy ultrasound and going shopping for more pink clothes.

But, this is a very different midterm.  I'm a full-time grad student, and I've never felt it more than these last couple weeks.  My many faces of midterms indicate just how thrilling and confusing it all feels.  I'm feeling thrill and pressure and eager all at once.  Tests, projects, papers, research, and genuine, honest-to-goodness library time.  Who in the world am I?  How did I get myself into this?

Ever have moments when you don't quite recognize your own life?

I was thinking the other day that if I ran across a job description of my life, I would turn it down in a heartbeat.  All of the hours and stress and fortitude necessary to keep up with the reality of it all spelled out on paper would be unfathomable to me.  It might look something like:

Wanted:  Caretaker for two humans that act more like monkeys than children.  Must be able to fulfill their every need at any given time, including overnights.  Must be able to meal plan on a tight budget and make sure household clothing is wearable at all times.  Must be able to fit in massive amounts of reading and paperwork on "downtime".  Research and writing proficiency expected.  Attendance at all meetings, curricular and extracurricular, required.  Must not forget to bathe on occasion.  Ability to function on little sleep a plus!  No pay, but many intangible perks.  Apply today!

Ha!  I would immediately disregard this position.  Who in their right mind would go for this?  And yet - here I am!  Smack dab in the middle of the irrational chaos, trying to soak up as much knowledge and memories as I possibly can.  I am being pushed to my limits and loving it.  I am wringing myself dry with every hour that passes, and then praying to absorb the importance and value of the present like a sponge left out in the rain. 

This is a specific season of my life that I've been called to.  Midterms is really a micro-analogy for these next couple years in school while I try to balance home life and homework.  There's no way I could do it without my husband, my friends, my family, my support, and my God who is greater and mightier than any cup of coffee (and I would know).  

I might be sleep deprived and over-caffienated, but I'm not alone.  

What's your midterm?  How are you functioning in the middle of your own chaos?

Many of us would never apply to the position that we're currently in.  Lots of times life throws us more than we could ever bear alone, and that's exactly how I think life should be.  The people around us, the challenges and trials that shape and mold us, they are all used in very specific ways to push us towards who we're meant to be.  With prayers for wisdom and perseverance, God allows us to take part in each other's calling.  In fact, maybe the last part of that wanted ad should mention something else:

*Must collaborate well with others and ask for help when needed.  Assistance provided upon request.

Now, that's something I'm glad I signed up for.  

The New Job

My husband has a new job!  After three-and-a-half months of waiting, Josh started his new job yesterday (can I get a Hallelujah?)!

Time to dust off those dress shoes!

Because so many of you walked this journey with us, I wanted to let you know how truly incredible God is in granting us the opportunity of this new job.  The first day for him to put on a tie and show up on time and meet with new people and earn a paycheck started yesterday...but, in reality, the beginning of this job started long before.

About a month after we moved here, we saw a listing for a job at the new school where Josh is working.  He was really interested in the school, but in complete honesty, he wanted to head into a Marketing position, and the job that was posted was not in marketing.  He was qualified for the job, however, so we began to pray about it.

For one, beggars can't be choosers...and we needed a job.  More than that, however, we decided as a team that we couldn't limit God to what we wanted.  How did we know what God had in store?  Who were we to try and cage God into the scope of our view?  God is so, so much bigger.  And, holding onto the truth that God wants the best for us, Josh humbly applied for the posted position.

Six weeks later, long after we thought the time had passed to even be considered for the position, Josh got a call to interview.  By the third interview, weeks into the process, something extraordinary happened:  the Head of the School had noticed that his gifts seemed to be steered toward creative ideas, and that he had real strength in brand management.  Little did we know, they were already considering bringing on a new person in Marketing full-time...and suddenly they were interested in Josh for a completely different position.

Josh came home that day awestruck, and we were dumbfounded at how God was working behind the scenes on our behalf.  Our journey of faith that took us 2,000 miles and three months into an unknown future were culminating into dreams we never imagined possible.  It wasn't going to magically resolve all our questions or dilemmas, but it was going to prove the unchanging faithfulness of God's direction in our life yet again.

The first day on the job was wonderful.  He is sipping from a blasting fire hose of new information, no doubt, every first-day-on-the-job feels overwhelming and exhilarating at first.   But, each person he has met has welcomed him with joy and affirmation.  He's right where he's meant to be, learning and growing and excited to use the talents that God has instilled in him.

We don't yet know the full extent that this new job holds for Josh.  Every job has its difficulties, and I'm sure as time goes on this one will present it's own challenges in one way or another.  Faithfulness does not make one immune to uncomfortableness...in fact, it inevitably secures it.  But, right now we are so grateful to be resting in the assurance that we are exactly where we are supposed to be.

Thank you, again, to all of you who have supported us through this crazy time in our lives.  We knew that at some point we would find our "new normal" and it feels like we are finally hitting our stride in our new city.  I know it will take months to continue to adjust to the changes...but, for now, the changes  have plateaued to a palatable level.

If you are waiting on God...if you are searching for answers...if you are frustrated by lack of direction...wait.  Time is a real element that God utilizes for His plans.  Time is never wasted when it grows faithfulness.  And time is sometimes all that's standing between you and the great big God that is working behind the scenes on your behalf.  Hang on.

Victory!

Guys.  I'm starting this story at the end, and trust me, you will still want to read it after I tell you the best part.  Here goes:  The job search is over.  JOSH GOT A JOB!

I've had a bottle of champagne sitting at the back of my fridge allllll summer, and now - it's time to celebrate!  I am beyond thrilled to announce that after three and a half long months, my husband is going to be the Marketing Coordinator at a local, private school. Hallelujah!  Praise be!  Thank you, Jesus!

And now that you know the ending, just wait until you hear the whole story...

He first applied for a job at this school about 10 weeks ago (whew!)  It was actually for a different  position, and one that he was unsure of taking.  He knew he could do it, but if you asked him what he would truly want to do, what his gifts and desires were directing him towards, he would have told you his dream job would have been to step over fully into a marketing position.  Truth be told, it took a bit of a prayer and twisting of his arm to get him to apply in the first place.  But we prayed about it, and he knew our God was not limited to an application, and so he took yet another step of faith and wholeheartedly put his hat in the ring.

A good six weeks later, he accepted a position at Trader Joe's, a local grocery store that we love (and who's roots are in California, so it really felt like a piece of home for us!)  We are SO incredibly grateful to Trader Joe's, and we were bursting at the seams to tell everyone that he got hired there - except that, the day after he started there, the school finally called to interview him!  All this to say, we've kept silent about this job journey the last several weeks because we didn't want any potential employers to question the loyalty or schedule of what we were pursuing.

You get it.  Job hunting is hard enough!  It was the best problem we'd had in weeks - to have been hired at a (albeit, most likely temporary) position while interviewing for a prestigious opportunity.  We didn't want to confuse the situation by having "Found a job!" posted on a status update and muddling the unemployed waters.  So, thanks for understanding and respecting our roll-out of this info!

A couple interviews at the school later, and God shook the very ground we were standing on.  After interviewing Josh for a different position, the head of the school saw something in him that revealed the talents and passion he had for marketing.  It was one of the most affirming moments I've witnessed in his life, and I'm so grateful God placed someone at the right place and time to recognize and distinguish this in him.  Two more interviews (and a few more weeks) later...and it's official.  He got the job.

We are ELATED.  We are so so so so grateful.  We are blown away by the goodness of others and the goodness of God.  A year ago I would have told you that we would have NEVER moved here without a job, or that it would be impossible to do so, or that it would be irresponsible, or that there's just no way we could have survived three and a half months with no income.  But, here we are.  Because....because God.  The end.  Because we listened and obeyed, and really, really, really NOTHING more.  God made it all happen.  Only God.

And here's where I get real honest with you.  Here's the part where you are feeling all "oh, how nice that worked out for you" and I'm about to blow that thought right out of the water for you...so, just keep reading.

The night before we got the job, God told me something.  He said, plain and simply, "You know that if he gets this job it doesn't solve your problems, right?  Only I can do that."  I kind of brushed that off and said another prayer for the job, and then I BEGGED God for the job and then I thanked God and still said "but, please God, seriously, please let him get this job".  I didn't quite let what God told me sink in all the way.  I wanted Josh to get that job.  It would be A problem solved, and so my heart and mind were set on that.

Then, he got the job.  And, I felt relief.  I felt joy.  But...I didn't feel any more secure than I had the day before.  In fact, neither Josh nor I jumped up and down like we had in the past when much smaller victories were won (You got a call baaaack!!!!  You got an interviewwwww!!!)  Not this time.  This time was different.

Josh got the job.  Hallelujah.  But, that's not the victory here.  The victory - the moral to the story - is the three and a half freaking months that came before the job.  The miracle is the survival, the journey, the long road of impatience and questions and doubting.  The loving marriage that sustained the waves of tumultuous worry.  The food on the table brought by friends.  The cards of encouragement and support sent by loved ones.  The pride found in working a blue-collar job.  The strength of a family cared for by a community and body of Christ.  THAT'S OUR VICTORY.

I never could have guessed it.  Even a few weeks ago I could have told you what this blog post could have looked like - a long and relentless bragging about my husband and how awesome he is and how good God is for rewarding his efforts.  No.  Not at all.  Don't get me wrong - Josh is my hero - but, we're giving credit where credit is surely due, and that goes entirely to Jesus.

Here's something else - Satan hates it when we give Jesus the credit.  And today, just as we were eager to awake with feelings of assurance and celebration, we were spiritually attacked from all sides as Satan did his best to steal our joy and distract us from the goodness of God.  I'm really being honest here, gang.  Today was ROUGH.  Even my daughters were stressed out and overly emotional and the littlest things seemed like the end of the universe in our home.  Each one of us was in a terrible mood, annoyed and frustrated, irrationally snappy and completely out of sorts.

We literally had to stop in the middle of our morning and pray aloud in our living room to just invite the Holy Spirit to be present with us, to help us focus on His peace and faithfulness, and to not let anything distract us from the beauty of the moment and the assurance of God's goodness.

But, here we are.  We are here to CELEBRATE and let you know that God IS good.  Wholly good.  And the job is wonderful...but, it is merely a facet in the structure that is our lives as they should be lived out according to God's will.  We are grateful - but, not fooled by the false sense of security that money and benefits offer in this world.  We are humbled, and we are sincerely blessed by the long three and a half months where our faith was stretched far beyond the boundaries of our liking.

Thank you, thank you, thank you - to each of you who prayed for us, supported us, encouraged us, and fought the good fight through the victory of the wait.

God is using us here.  God has big plans for us.  God is good - really - all the time.

We're so grateful to celebrate God's goodness with you!

Content

We all know what a Table of Contents is, right?  That page at the beginning of a book that outlines the parts that make up the information given in the pages ahead.  It's the big, overarching themes that sum up the in-between parts that give you an idea of the whole before you have even had a chance to understand it all.

The Table of Contents of my life might look something like this:

• The wife who forgot about dinner
• The mother who hands her toddlers her iPhone 
• The writer who can't remember that one word
• The student who asks too many questions
• The overwhelmed human who needs rest
• The repentant prayer warrior who is reminded of her needs
• The healed sinner who found peace again

One of those things by itself wouldn't totally describe me, but together, they can give you an honest glimpse into the life that I live - and this would only cover maybe one normal day!  The content of our lives says a lot about who we are, a lot about who we think we are, and a lot about where our values and dependencies lie.

Am I content with the content of my life?

I heard something today at Bible Study that was perfectly put - today, there seems to be an "epidemic of discontent" among society.  I couldn't have said it better myself.  So many times, I'll hear or read or see moms (and not just moms, of course) who are either feeling guilty about the life they should be leading or feeling guilty about living they life they already are.  

How can we find contentment?

The word CONTENT is what is called a homograph.  It's two or more words that look alike but have  different meanings:

con-tent:  that which may be perceived in something

con-tent:  satisfied with what one is or has

Just because something looks to hold everything we might have always have wanted, doesn't mean that it represents everything that makes us whole.  Your Table of Contents might be perceived as everything that should make you content...but, instead, it could have a very different meaning. 

In other words, whenever I lack contentment in my life, it's time to examine the content.  

Where is Jesus in the midst of my toddler throwing noodles at me in the middle of lunch?  Where is Jesus when I want to cry into my pile of laundry?  Where is Jesus when I feel guilty about wanting to get out of the house by myself?  Where is Jesus when I'm taking my blessings for granted?

Jesus is the content for my contentment.

I have no hope to get it all right.  I have no hope for feeling like enough, especially when my focus is on myself.  But, pursuing Jesus and injecting Him into the CONTENT of my life will bridge the gap of my seeking and finding the contentment I'm in need of.

Contentment doesn't look like sitting still.  It doesn't look like a pond with no ripples.  In fact, the closer I get to Jesus and asking Him to reveal to me how I can inject more of HIM into my day, the more motivated I become to not seek anything else.  The more motivated I am to inspire others to do the same.  The more motivated I become to fulfill who I'm called to be for Him.  And, the more the content of my life resembles a content human resting in the assurance that I am trusting a God who knows what's better for me than I do.

If I'm going to let God be the author of my life, I'd better be willing to let Him start with the Table of Contents.

Waiting

How many of you are waiting on something?

Maybe you are waiting on a job, like we are.  Maybe you are waiting on getting pregnant.  Waiting on an adoption to go through.  Waiting on a call from your doctor.  Waiting for your boyfriend to propose. Waiting to hear back from that school/program/organization you're hoping to get into.  Waiting on your order at Chipotle.  (Hey, it counts!)

Chances are, there are several out there who are waiting, waiting, waiting to hear from God about something that will epically change your life, for better or for worse.  My husband has been unemployed for over two months now, and this is not the first time God has made us wait and wonder as to what His plan may hold.  Still, patience continues to be a quality that I'm constantly in need of.

About five years ago, we were waiting for another reason.  We were trying to get pregnant.  We had been extraordinarily deliberate in our plan to have a baby, seeking the counsel of others personally and professionally to help us in the decision to jump into the murky and unknown waters of "trying".

Months went by, and I was still not pregnant.  There had never been any fertility issue on either side of our family, so when we first jumped into the ring we naively supposed we'd be making grand announcements within the first few months.  And, so, we began down an emotional roller coaster that kept us on our toes two-weeks-at-a-time.

In effort for my husband to truly grasp the emotional toll that this process was taking on me, I remember making an analogy for him.  Not getting pregnant, for me, is like unsuccessfully job hunting for a man. It's like, every time I see a pregnant woman out there, I think "Why HER?"  Clearly, I'm qualified for the position!  I'm perfect for it, I have all the experience and credentials I need.  And every time I'm not pregnant it's like someone rejecting you for a job you're overqualified for.

I can remember a conversation with a close confidant about 9 months into our journey.  I remember telling her how, when we'd first began to try to get pregnant, this would have been the month we had a baby.  It was weird.  I ached and longed to hold my own child, so it felt like there was no reason at all for God to have delayed the gratification.  I remember this person telling me "But, just think, when you finally do get pregnant, it will all make sense.  You'll look back and think 'Ah!  This is why God made us wait!'"

Now, I know that there are readers out there who are experiencing infertility, even waiting, who are currently in the midst of devastation.  I know that my story can seem like nothing compared to others who go through years and years of trials and hardships - so, I am in NO way trying to say that I know how that feels.  I don't.

But, when you are in the midst of it - when I was crying out to God on my bathroom floor after getting my period each month, when I was weeping and cursing and questioning "Why not me? Why not now?"...all there is is either "baby" or "no baby"...there's no timeframe or logic or end in sight.  So, all that to say, the year it took us to get pregnant felt like an eternity to me.

The year came to an end, and my first "fertility" appointment got changed to a "pre-natal" appointment. And even after I gave birth to a perfectly gorgeous baby 9 months later...I still had no idea why God made us wait.  I still wondered why in the world I couldn't have just surpassed all that pain and ended up with my gorgeous baby the year before?  What difference did it make, God, really?

Well...fast-forward to today, and here's one difference:  My husband has spent the last few months getting rejected by jobs he's overqualified for.  And I know just how he feels.

I can't tell you all the reasons God had for the way it all rolled out.  I can't tell you how many lives it altered or how much we really grew as humans or as spouses through that journey.  Some things are simply immeasurable.

But, I can tell you that now I know what it feels like to be married to someone who feels understood because of a time that God brought us through together.  I can tell you that there is a reason (probably many) for the waiting - and that it is not in vain.

Growth is rarely comfortable.  Change is almost never convenient.  But, dependance on God, no matter how long it takes, is always, always productive.  It's not that I have-to-believe-this-cause-I-have-no-other-choice.  My life is a testament to His follow-through!  He is faithful to answer and be with us no matter what the answer is.

You are not alone in your waiting, friends.  And your waiting is not wasted.

Wait on!

Full Plate

Ever feel like your plate is getting a little crowded?  Then, right at that moment someone offers you seconds?  Then, right as you turn them down, someone else hands you dessert?  And just as you're about to drop everything, your toddler throws her sippy-cup at your head???

What? Doesn't your home look like this?

Yeah, sounds about right for this week.

This transitional season of chaos has my family feeling anything but normal.  My husband is job-hunting, I'm diving head first into grad school, and our two toddler daughters are screaming at us all day long to go play outside in the summer heat and 1000% humidity (that's not a typo - seriously - the humidity is maybe more like a million percent here).  Whew.

My daughters are three-and-a-half (you understand why that HALF  must be attached) and two-years-old.  When one of them isn't tackling the other down with a "hug" (hugs look very similar to violent wrestling moves around here) then their each climbing up some new apparatus they've constructed from pillows and dolls and most likely some rather wobbly form of furniture.  Most of these activities end in one of them hitting her head and both of them crying and my husband and I wondering how our life together ever got THIS LOUD!?

Toddlers are tense.  Toddlers are insane and irrational.  Toddlers don't care that you aren't fulfilling your life calling or too busy trying not to already-get-behind-on-homework the first week of class.  Toddlers think the world has come to a brutal and completely unalterable demise if it takes more than ten seconds for Netflix to connect.  Toddlers can not be predicted.

Basically, my daughters are the bosses I always hated embodied in the cutest and most desirable forms of humankind that I couldn't possibly love more.  They are walking paradoxes.

If I listed all the emotions that my toddlers put me through on paper, it would become glaringly obvious that this "relationship" is one of complete and total dysfunction.  It doesn't make sense to love them as much as I do.  It is completely unreasonable to continue to give of myself to that degree over and over and over again and without expectation of some guarantee in return.  It couldn't possibly be healthy for me to situate myself to be challenged so often in such a confined space for such a long time.

And yet, here I am.

Perhaps you might think (if you are grossly cynical) that I'm just saying all this because the reality is that I have no way out.  I had these children.  Indeed, I contributed willingly and significantly to the creation of them!

But, you'd be wrong.

I choose my children every day.
(Sometimes I also choose to yell at Netflix.)

I didn't walk into parenthood completely blindfolded - we all know there are challenges that come with acceptance in a position of this magnitude.  But, no matter what child you get, there are going to be surprises.  The amazing thing is, most of these surprises come in the form of revealing who you really are and finding out what you're made of.

Sometimes I drop the full plate.  Sometimes I make a huge mess and have to cry about it as I clean it all up.  Sometimes I have to ask for help and let other people hold my drink for me.  Sometimes I have to say "That's enough.  I'm full."

But, sometimes.  I close my eyes and feel the weight of the plate in my hands, the imbalance, the risk of it all, and I'm reminded that this is the STUFF that makes up a truly rich life.  It doesn't make sense to want such a loud and imperfect life.  It's a mess.

And I'll choose it all again tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DOUBLE BONUS
SNEAK PEEK! 

Have you entered the Share & Care Contest yet??  Did you know you can enter up to THREE times a day??  Here is a peek at a couple more items I'm throwing into the fabulous PARDYMAMA CARE PACKAGE!


Thistle Farms Citrus Vanilla Lotion!  Not only is it good for your skin - it is helping change lives!  At Thistle Farms, products are handmade by survivors of prostitution, trafficking, addiction and life on the streets.  Find out more at their website and see ALL the wonderful products they make!








Jesus Calling a devotional that has daily nuggets of insight into "Enjoying Peace in His Presence".  If you're "not the devotional type" - then this is the book for you.  Many times, this book has started my day off right or encouraged me unexpectedly.  Some days, I will pick it up and read the page for the day and find that it hits so close to home I'm curious if someone hasn't been spying on me!  It's a delightfully encouraging read, and I think it will brighten your day too!

Nonsense! (Jobless & Hopeful) pt. 2

Choosing to quit a steady job is difficult and strange, especially when you don’t know what is next.  It had been a long process of prayers and contemplation as we took the official step of Josh quitting his job, planning our move across country, and not having a job lined up for us when we got there.  

I’m sure if you think about this for a minute, you have many of the same questions I had.  It’s funny, because as your loved ones watch you take this step of faith, they also begin to worry that you’ve lost your mind – something I also took into consideration!  People tiptoe around reminding you that you have children to provide for, bills to pay, and no guarantees for the future…as if these are things that you haven’t pined over in the middle of the night, tearfully pleading with Jesus for a neon sign to show you the answer. 

Just a couple angry toddlers here.

Questions and worries plague us as normal human beings, as parents, and as a couple that hopes for things like “a house with a yard” someday, let alone how to afford rent and health insurance on no income.  Trust me, whatever it is you are questioning, I have thought of it, I have worried about it profusely, I have taken it into account…and so has Jesus.  (But, thank you for the concern.)

The thing is, when it comes to obedience, I could either choose to trust Jesus or not.  Bottom line.  We do everything we can within our limited power to take opportunities and make the best of them, while constantly and prayerfully handing them over to God for His guidance and direction. 

And, you know what, somehow, some way, we are here in Nashville with full bellies and a roof over our head and clothes on our bodies.  We are alive and will give God the glory.  If that’s not a testament to His provision, I don’t know what is.  

Daily.  Daily, I am reminded that today was another day God provided.  DAILY.  Thank you, Jesus.

But, it is not easy to praise Jesus when He doesn’t give you what you want when you want it.  If you don’t agree with that, then you are probably lying.  (I’m just saying!)  I can act just like my toddlers throwing a tantrum for a toy in the middle of Target that I won’t buy for them.  I want to scream and pout and kick things, I’m so angry.  I want to demand reconsideration for what I think I DESERVE.  I huff and I puff, and I crumble into a messy fit of confusion.  And I always end with the same frustration:  it doesn’t make sense.

And then I cry out to Jesus.  And then I see His face.  And then I feel His arms.  And then I’m reminded of what a bloodsucking, bratty little sinner I am…and how I should get kicked to the curb and forgotten about and instead, here I am, getting comforted by the reality of a God who has given me so much, and I’m split open by the brutal irony of His love for me in one realization: IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE.

It doesn’t have to make sense to me.  Living faithfully, living obediently, doesn’t come with the stamped regularity of a direct-deposit check into my bank account.  There’s nothing wrong with making a steady income – that’s a good thing and I look forward to it again!  

But, there’s something very wrong with hanging my hat on it.  There’s something ridiculous about placing my security in my efforts or the abilities of my husband, or even in the trust of the next employer who reads my husband’s resume.  

God is in charge.  God has not forgotten us.  God will bring a job in His time, for His purpose.  God will continue to provide.  And we will continue to bring our messy selves to His feet and be reminded of His non-sensical love and provision for us. 

More on this nonsense tomorrow!

Jobless and Hopeful pt. 1

“We will never move without a job in place.”  I spoke these words about this time last year, as the seeds of the idea of moving to Nashville started to take root in our hearts.  I was confident and honest, and I felt completely rationale in the definitive boundary I had placed between reality and fantasy.

It was realistic, after all, that my husband could get a good job within a reasonable timeframe.  He has his Masters degree and glowing recommendations and he was in a prestigious position at the time, working as a Director of Admissions and Marketing at a local Christian high school.  He was making enough to support our little family, and we had excellent health benefits to boot.  It was more than we could hope for, living in one of the expense-ville capitals of America: Orange County, California.

Ahh, the illusion of "security"

I don’t say this to brag in any way – we were still living paycheck-to-paycheck like most of our peer group does these days; but we were “secure” and “comfortable” enough to not worry about making rent each month.  I also say all this to set up a clear picture of where this all started, and properly introduce the path we were about to take…the path less taken, so to speak.

It was around last December when the Lord truly started to place on our hearts a steady momentum towards looking at Nashville.  Following a series of significant conversations, I had begun to look into MFT (Marriage & Family Therapy) programs offered in the Nashville area.  Upon my finding a perfect fit at Lipscomb University (more on this in future posts) I began the arduous application process and it was our first major step towards placing actual potential on this dream of moving across country.

As my application process proceeded, Josh began to put out feelers for jobs and opportunities in the Nashville area.  A few promising leads, including a job interview that even flew him out there for a meeting, gave us reason to believe it would not be too long until something came through and all our proverbial ducks were in a nice, neat row.

We prayed for a job.  We prayed for God’s will.  We prayed for God’s best for us.  And job after job began to pass through our fingers.  Rejection hurts.  And I couldn't understand how someone could "pass" on my husband!? 

My husband with the charm of a winsome politician and the credentials of a noble scholar!??  Sure, I’m biased.  But, this is a swell guy, people!  Someone who works hard and loves well.  And frankly, someone you want on your team.  I was sad for each rejection.  I was frustrated on his behalf.  And, I was quickly moving from “defensive wife” to “pissed-off human” as I lost hope in our country’s workforce. 

I got accepted into school, and we celebrated.  My husband, always encouraged by the “win” for Team Pardy, was wholeheartedly pleased at the success of our (and I really mean “our”) application into grad school.  All of this was a Team Pardy effort.  There was not going to be any option for "my successes" versus "his losses".  Marriage doesn’t work like that.  Correction – marriage can’t work like that.  There was only “OUR” successes and losses.  We celebrate together just as we mourn together, and we continue to commit to this every single day.

School would start at the end of August, so that gave us roughly four months to get a job for Josh, get ourselves to Nashville, and settle into a new home before my program started.  In that order.  Right, God?  Work, move, home, school.  Yes, that makes the most sense. 

And this is when God smiled.  And this is when I started to worry.  

Choosing to quit a job that paid well and provided health insurance seemed unfathomable a few months ago.  In an economy where the unemployment rate high as a kite and the cost of moving is limitless, it was impossible to consider a scenario where we would abandon the security of comfort for any imaginable reason.

But, then again, Jesus was never one to work within the man-made boundaries of reason or rationale.  God doesn’t always adhere to our measurement of “how things should work”, let alone abide by the calendar we keep. 

So, then, as job possibilities came and went, Josh and I became very accustomed to the notion that our usual “sensibilities” of how things were “supposed to go” needed to be reexamined.  It just didn’t make sense for him not to get some of these jobs he was applying for.  It didn’t makes sense…except for the fact that we had been praying according to God’s will, for Him to provide the best for our lives.  Evidently, none of those paths were the right one. 

As hard as it was to swallow, the truth of the bitter rejections was that somehow, we were dodging bullets.  Though we might never know why they weren’t the best fit for us, we could only conclude that it was better to be grateful for what was to come rather than dwell on the disappointment of the present.

Still, the clock was ticking.  Certain things had to be in place, and so we started to look into housing and moving options.  We couldn’t wait on a job forever.  We had to recognize that God’s promise for us was to provide for our needs…that didn’t necessarily mean it came with the security of a regular paycheck, like it or not.  This is what you call a leap of faith.  This is what you call obedience.  And you’re right – it doesn’t make much sense in this world.

As you may have read in previous posts, we found an apartment within two miraculous days.  Multiple miracles were quick to follow as the plans of our move fit into place like the border of a giant puzzle.  We weren’t exactly sure what the resulting picture would look like, but the parameters were set and all we could do was keep filling in the missing pieces as the information came to us.  All we could do was trust and obey.  God was moving us to Nashville.  God was moving us to Nashville…without a job.  The words I had spoken just about a year ago were coming back to haunt me.  

Never say never, indeed.

Breastfeeding: part 1

Breastfeeding.  Yup.  We're going there.  So, if you're male and cringing already - you are free to leave at any time.  If you are female and wincing at the idea of learning TMI about me - feel free to click away.  But, if you have ever, will ever, or might know someone who has ever breastfed...I invite you to stick around today and tomorrow as I openly explore the topic near and dear (literally) to my heart.

Before the birth of my first daughter, Matilda, a few years ago, I remember being enormously pregnant and reading up on the "womanly art of breastfeeding" as it's so endearingly referred to.  I read and read and even took a private lactation class to try and absorb as much info as I could before actually jumping into the act myself.  I had studied so long and hard about labor and birth that it wasn't until the last few weeks of my pregnancy that I started to realize I was about to encounter a whole new world that would disrupt my life and my body:  breastfeeding.

I'll tell you right up front that, while this post is certainly "pro-breast" I'm going to go ahead and already assume you are "for breastfeeding".  There's just about a bazillion reasons (most of which you probably know already) for breastfeeding babies, and certainly there are valid and legitimate reasons that mothers can't or choose not too.  But, there's no denying that in an ideal setting for a typical baby and a healthy mother, breastfeeding is best - and so, we'll leave it at that.

That being said, I had always assumed I would breastfeed.  It seemed cheap and logical and convenient, above all the other health reasons that just seemed to make sense.  But, I had NO IDEA how to do it.  It's not exactly something one can practice beforehand (and trust me, it's already awkward enough to football hold a doll and pretend-put-it-up-to your boob) and so it remained an enormous mystery to me right up until it actually happened.

I'll say this - it all just seemed so awkward.  When I tried to imagine it or conceptualize what it might be like, I couldn't imagine it being anything but awkward.  How could it not hurt?  How could it ever become "normal"?  How will the baby know what to do?  What does "let down" mean and will it hurt?  How will it affect my marriage?  How long should I do it?  How hard will it be?

Can you believe this was for real?

These questions and more plagued my over-information-burdened mind in the days leading up to my daughter's birth.  It was a giant enigma that I kept chalking up to:  Well, I don't know.  But, I'll just do it.  I will.  That's that.  And really, that was that.

And then I had a baby.  I held my baby for the first time.  I saw her and I wept with what could only be described as indescribable joy.  My heart suddenly caved in and my breath was stopped short by the sheer awe and wonder of how part of me could be existing on the outside of my body, and suddenly I felt and overwhelming urge to unite myself back to this creature whom I had held inside for so long.  I physiologically needed to nourish her, comfort her, provide for her...and my body impulsively longed to do so.  She latched on, right there in the recovery room (after a 20 hour labor and sudden c-section) and suddenly there I was, breastfeeding my infant as if I had always known how.

The following weeks were less magical.  I was, however,  blessed with a record-breaking milk supply and a chunky baby who required much attention.  I am eternally grateful for the gift of an easily-nursed baby. I know that many mothers out there have had brutal experiences coping with latching technique and sore nipples and milk that took weeks to come in...but, I was one of the lucky ones  (feel free to punch me in the face now if you weren't...I'm so sorry).  However, no matter how "easy" it was...it was NOT easy.

Babies are demanding.  Babies are needy.  Babies are also irrational and uncommunicative apart from wailing and screaming.  Meanwhile, as I was trying to get used to my recovering-from-birth body, and waiting on my milk supply to regulate, my breasts seemed to take on a life of their own - being called upon every couple hours for who-knows-how-long and all in private sessions that kept me away from all other people or priorities.  Sometimes this was glorious.  I loved to stare into my baby's eyes and see her so happily nurse and feel comfort and love and nourishment all at the same time.  Sometimes, however, this was burdensome.  I would hear my husband and friends laughing in the living room as the movie continued on without me so I could nurse the baby back to sleep...I would let dinner burn on the stove as I forgot to turn down the heat as I held my child...I would drift off in the middle of the night as my exhaustion got the better of me.  And still, I did my best to remain grateful for the experience, even in the loneliest of moments.

Rarely do mothers talk about the lonely side of breastfeeding.  Rarely do you hear advice to new mothers about how it will be challenging and sad at times (though, yes, oh-so-worthwhile).  It's hard to feel like you are missing out because your baby needs you - and THAT'S OKAY to admit...but, it's also an enormous step towards the selflessness that parenthood demands you engage in - and that's a remarkably beautiful gift that I could never have anticipated.  Breastfeeding helped teach me that.

Above all, no one ever told me how many times I might find myself perched in the back seat of my car with a blanket clumsily laid across my shoulder as I urgently nurse my child and haphazardly spray breastmilk across the floorboard...because, when baby's hungry, everything else waits.  Friends wait, dinners wait, movies wait, shopping waits...and so do you.  And waiting is hard.  And while I waited I couldn't help but ask myself again and again "Is THIS what mothers DO?  Is this what moms have been doing all along and never said - this is what I do - I sit in the back of my car and try not to spray milk all over my backseat windows before spending too much money at Target a mere fifteen minutes later.  Wow."  True story.

While I didn't experience the hardship of latching or milk production, I did experience challenge in another area of breastfeeding:  work.  With Matilda, I went back to work three months after her birth.  This came with a host of emotional challenges, but very near the top of the list was my new responsibility in becoming an expert breast-pumper...something I'd never considered being excellent at. It was a scary contraption that looked like something out of a Men In Black movie, and I was pretty sure that I would be the first woman in history to somehow make the evening news headlines due to some battle I would encounter with this particular device.  Nevertheless, it was me against the breastpump and I rose to the challenge.

How long will it take to pump?  How often do I need to?  Where do I go?  Will people notice?  Again, a new string of questions rattled my brain with fears as I walked back into my cubicle.  I worked almost exclusively with men on a daily basis, and so it felt like a foreign land where no one would sympathize with my amount of baggage I had to travel with.  But, after a few awkward conversations and a few days of carrying an extra sweater around in my purse "just in case" my breasts exploded at my desk...I began to get into a rhythm that accomplished what my baby and I both needed.

A few weeks into this new routine, and I had become a super-spy on a mission for milk.  With only 30 minutes for lunch, I had gotten the womanly art down to a science, and felt like a CIA agent - sneaking into the code-locked "nursing closet", quickly changing out of my attire and hooking up my pump, acquiring the assets, slipping back into my garments, and back out on the street in a flash as if nothing had ever occurred.  My sleek, black, messenger bag pump left no one the wiser to my whereabouts, and that's pretty much how I liked it.

A full year of this routine took place.  My dedication to breastfeeding impressed even myself, and I still look back on that time as one of privilege more than sacrifice.  Besides, it gave me some of the quietest moment of my entire life...just me, my peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, and the lulling whir of my breast pump...how can I not be grateful for that kind of simplistic moment?  But, it wasn't easy.  So - for all those mothers making it work at work...kudos, bravo, and keep it up!  Do your best to savor those quiet moments, they surely don't last forever.

And neither did breastfeeding.  That first year of Matilda flew by in a flash, even with each glorious and burdensome feeding.  My breastfeeding Matilda came to a sudden halt (for a variety of reasons) when I became pregnant with my second daughter.  And new questions arose as I approached a new phase of life (literally) as I instantly grieved the loss of breastfeeding while excitedly anticipated the coming of a new baby.

Come back tomorrow to find out what challenges breastfeeding brought the second time around...and how I dealt with saying goodbye to this wonderful phase of motherhood...

READERS:  Share your breastfeeding stories!  What has your experience been?  How did you feel supported in your journey in breastfeeding?