Beautiful

I prefer to keep this blog upbeat and positive, seeking the humor in every situation.  But sometimes, life is hard; and I also want this little space of the internet to reflect that.  Life isn’t always sunshine and happiness, and I prefer to be real than to photo-shop perfection into my blog posts.  There are moments that require our paths to wind up a mountain, tall and daunting.  And we’re required to take a deep breath and to step forward – one footstep at a time – as bravely as we can.  So with that being said, I feel as though I do need to share this difficult journey that lies before me with my readers in an attempt to remain real.

*Takes a deep breath*

I have to go bathing suit shopping this year.

*shudders….but feels a sense of relief at having typed out the difficult truth*

To be honest, like most women, I’d literally rather do just about anything else…  And it’s not that I really struggle with my body image.  I just wish that bathing suits looked a bit more like snuggies than leftover scraps of fabric.

In the past, I’ve always gone with an experienced support group (a.k.a. my mom and sister).  Because these two are good.  No matter how many times they’d say, “It’s not you, it’s the bathing suit” I’d always believe them.  Because yes, the issue is obviously with the bathing suit.  And the lighting.  And the fact that I forgot to paint my toenails.

But this time around, there will also be the C-section scar.  And the soft skin on my stomach from growing healthy babies… and liking the taste of icecream too much.  My ‘baby’ is turning two next month, and I’m just now starting to work at losing the ‘baby weight’.  My body has been stretched, and pushed to the limits, and – quite frankly – in need of the gym but just too tired to get there most days.

And there’s nothing like trying on a bathing suit to make a woman feel as though she’s trapped in a body made out of silly putty.

But you know what?  I’ve also been on the ‘other side’.  Back when I was at my skinniest as a young teen, before God healed me of an eating disorder, I was ‘skinny enough’ to fit the bathing suit model standards.  But I also hadn’t menstruated for a year.  My hair was falling out.  Skin flaked off my body like dandruff, I was freezing cold in the middle of a hot summer’s day, and I was constantly at the doctor’s.

All this to try to meet standards of beauty that a world had set for me.

I was thinking about this just the other day…  About how I am so much more confident now, curves and all, than I was back then when I was ridiculously thin.  It makes me look in the mirror and feel thankful.  Thankful for this amazing body that grew babies.  Thankful for my strength, and my health, and the blessing it is to spend every day with my family.

When you start to look at things that way, the size and shape of your body kind of takes a back-seat!

Women (and even men) are constantly bombarded with images that have been photo-shopped to perfection.  Models and actresses flaunt their seemingly-perfect bodies and lives, leaving so many feeling ashamed and inadequate.  These images set what so many view as the ultimate representation of beauty.

But here’s the thing…  Contrary to what Hollywood would like you to believe, you and I are not cookie cutters.  We are not gingerbread men, cut from the same mold to resemble a specific outline.  We are unique, and there is no one image that we need to critique our bodies against.

We all have individual markings, characteristics, sizes, and shapes.  If only we could learn to embrace that!

And here’s where freedom truly lies…  Ultimately, I am a child of God.  My beauty has nothing to do with anything that a mirror can reflect.  I was created by a perfect Creator to worship and to bring glory to His name.  The size of my shorts has absolutely no impact on that.  🙂

That’s not to say that I shouldn’t always strive to take care of my body!  But fully embracing my status as a child of the King sure takes a whole lot of pressure off of needing to look ‘perfect’ for the summer season.  Because curves and ‘imperfections’ looking back at me in the mirror mean so much less.

I’m excited to just get out there and live the life that God has given me!  I mean, how dare social media, television, and magazines tell me that I’m less than?  I’m beautiful… right now!

So yeah, bring on the bathing suit shopping and the confident splashing on the beach with my kiddos.  Because in Him I find my beauty, which means I am ready – right now- for summer… and my summer wardrobe.  🙂

 

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Oh Poop!

One of the biggest fears of mine going into having kids was potty training.  Don’t ask me why (because I seriously haven’t a clue), but I guess that I just thought it all sounded complicated.  And messy…  Also I googled it, and there are a lot of mommy blog posts about “potty training boot-camp.”  I mean, if you’re going to add “boot camp” to describe an activity, well, it just sounds like a whole lot of screaming, pain, and “I want to quit” feelings.  (And never mind what the toddler experiences as well).

To me, potty training is kind of like the dreaded group project of parenting.  You can do all the homework to get ready, but success is all really in the hands of a toddler who thinks that eating boogers is a good idea.  Oh, Jesus, take the wheel!

So it’s a little ironic that my first-born had such a hard time being potty trained.  I followed all the rules, tried to make it fun, waited until he seemed absolutely ready.  And to be honest, teaching him to pee on the potty and to go overnight without diapers was quite easy.  In fact, he was sleeping in underwear faster than most.

That being said, he has had GI issues for years and the struggle with poop has been real.  Stomachaches and severe constipation (while at other times he seems to poop out every little thing he eats) have been a daily struggle for him, which only makes pooping on the potty that much more scary and challenging.  It hurts the poor kid, and so – to him – the entire experience is frightening and one to be avoided by all means possible.

We’ve struggled with him holding in bowel movements to the point of vomiting or to the point where his body just starts pushing it out involuntarily (which results in messes in his underwear).  It…has…been…a…journey, my friends.  We do have a game plan, thanks to our GI specialist, but there isn’t a quick fix to make this all better instantly.  So this mama has needed to remain patient and understanding, even when we’ve been around other kids his age who make pooping on the potty seem easy.

But this week…  This week B-Boy pooped on the potty several times without any fighting, crying, screaming, or threats of “I will never, ever poop again.”  It’s not that we don’t still have some things to work on, and I’m not holding my breath that our struggles are over.  But it was a huge step in the right direction!

As he proudly placed a sticker on his potty chart, he said “Are you SO proud of me, Mama?”

I smiled and replied, “I am SO proud of you!”

To be honest, I was so proud of him that I was border-line ready to cry ugly tears.  Most kids his age could probably race through a chart like this, but my boy has had to work for it.  For him, each sticker on the chart represents more than just potty training success.  It means conquering fear, doing something even if it’s painful, and slowly moving towards digestive healing.

Throughout this experience, I’ve been thinking a lot about one of the most valuable pieces of advice that mom friends have shared with me:  don’t ever compare.  Don’t compare your child and their achievements or struggles with any other child.  Don’t think, “they should be able to do that too” or “why can’t they be more like that”?

B-Boy so often impresses me with what he is able to do.  He  is a puzzle solver, a builder, and the wheels inside that brain of his rarely turn off.  I mean, the kid taught himself how to use a zipper all on his own through curiosity-fueled determination!  That just amazes me!

I’m realizing, more and more, that this is my job as a mom.  I will be my son’s biggest fan and cheerleader throughout life, celebrating his wins and encouraging him to not give up when he struggles.  Teaching him that he was created by God with unique gifts to accomplish an unique plan. Socially, academically, physically, and mentally, he will only be defeated if he tries to be a cookie cutter image of the person standing beside him.

He may sometimes struggle at things that others find easy.  But gosh, when it comes to the God-given talents he possesses?  Watch out world, here he comes!

I cannot wait to see what God has planned for his life!  Yes, it is challenging some days; and there are moments when I just want to throw my hands in the air and declare, “Oh poop!”  😉  But just as he will struggle with some things that others find easy, he will also shine in his own unique ways too.  Having this beautiful (even if it is also challenging) opportunity to help him find footing as he grows is a priceless responsibility that I treasure more than anything!

 

My Life as a Wanna-Be, ‘Fittish’ Mom (part 2)

(Part 1 – in case you missed it)   🙂

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Mom life is a 24/7 commitment.  And while my husband and kiddos are the most precious gift that God has ever blessed me with, there are definitely moments that leave me wishing I could take a 30 minute blessing break.  You know, just to sit somewhere quiet and peaceful without the responsibility weighing down on my shoulders and the sticky fingers touching, pulling, and squishing me every second.

(I’d honestly even settle for five minutes alone in the bathroom).

We moms are juggling SO much that the last thing we need to do is fall into the ‘get your body back quick’ trap.  Imagine how freeing it would be if we took the pressure off of being thin and ‘back to normal’ and instead just focused on our mental well-being and overall health?  If we could see beauty in the way God created our bodies to change while growing a human life, instead of seeing the differences that follow as flaws?

And if we could get our heart-rate up during a family walk through the neighborhood or a dance party in the kitchen and realize that – until we’re getting more than four hours of sleep a night – those efforts are actually good enough!  The more hardcore workouts can come later on.

For me, a fitness routine looks different than it did before kids; because I am in a completely different phase of life.  And while there are amazing mamas who begin exercising the moment they’re cleared to by their doctors (seriously, you moms rock), that’s just not my story.  I will applaud and support those women, but I choose to not compare myself to them.  🙂  Because my journey is my own.

Like most mama’s, a full night’s sleep is rare, my meals are not always balanced, and ‘me time’ doesn’t happen often.  There are days when I feel like a social experiment to see just how long a woman can live off of no sleep and pretzels.

But over the past few months, particularly as I’ve been getting a bit more sleep and putting effort into mindful eating, my running shoes have been calling my name.  Working out is something that I can do for ME, and I’m ready to start.  Slowly…  Like a snail pushing its way through peanut butter.  But yeah, bring it on!

I’ve only run a few times each month since December…  So I won’t be running an actual marathon anytime soon.  😉  But I ran!  And I’m choosing to celebrate every single run as a victory.

For me, the goal isn’t to be ‘skinny’ anymore.  It’s about learning how to better take care of  myself so that I can better take care of my family.  It’s about being a good example for my children.  It’s realizing that – as hard as it is to be motivated some days – I always feel so strong, energized, and confident after a good run!

But this journey is also about being kind to myself on the rough days that require an extra cup of coffee and ultimate survival skills (like a marathon… of watching Curious George reruns with the two children I love most).  This phase of life requires me to be flexible, and I’m okay with that.  “Go for a run” looks great written on the calendar; but I can’t predict when someone will come down with the sniffles, refuse to sleep through the night, or even just need extra snuggles.

I will have to choose to make time for exercise whenever I can (unless my body says that I shouldn’t).  I’ll have to reach for the raw veggies and hummus (unless it’s ‘one of those afternoons’ that just require chocolate).  And on some days, worship music playing in the background will be the only ‘me time’ I can get. 

It’s all about balance.  It’s understanding that my kiddos will always come first, and that this journey to find the time to work out is going to require baby steps.  (After all, I’m still living in the thick of diaper changes, sleep regressions, potty training, wooden block towers, and living off of chicken nuggets and french fries.).  But as long as I’m headed in the right direction, those baby steps count!

There will be time to get fit.  For now, becoming a ‘fittish’ mom sounds like the perfect plan to me!   🙂

 

My Life as a Wannabe, ‘Fittish’ Mom

Since becoming a mom, working out hasn’t exactly been a priority…

It’s not that health isn’t important to me or that I don’t feed my family home-cooked, nutritious meals as often as humanly possible.  But when it comes to an actual exercise routine, I can’t remember the last time I had one.  I’ve just been more focused on keeping the natives from killing each other.  And when it feels as though you haven’t slept in fifty years, losing the extra pounds you’ve been carrying around since having babies kind of takes a back-burner to your secret stash of chocolate.

Let’s face it, even if it doesn’t count as cardio, getting through the day as a mom feels like a workout.  Throwing massive carriages into the Jeep, carrying a week’s worth of groceries into the house in as few trips as possible, lugging laundry up and down stairs, carrying a toddler in one arm while vacuuming with the other, bench-pressing a four year old during morning devotions…  I might be dressed in flats and a floral scarf, but I kind of feel like the strong man at the circus.

Welcome to the gun show, my friends!

When a well-meaning friend asks me if I’ve gone to the gym, I’m like, “No, but I dressed two kids in snowsuits and winter boots, so – you know – same thing, right?”

But apparently it’s not the same thing.  I mean, I sweat as much doing it and basically have to imagine an intense gym coach screaming over my shoulder to get through the task.  (I kind of think wrestling an alligator would be less stressful than trying to get my toddler’s thumb into the appropriate hole in her mittens).  But no, there is no workout called the “Dress Your Kids up to Play in the Snow” routine…  I imagine it’s probably because workouts are supposed to fill you with happiness-creating endorphins; and – generally – after dressing my kids up in their suits, I kind of want to punch a snowman.*

*No snowmen have been harmed during the process of dressing children to play in the snow.

But here I am, my handsome boy is four and beautiful little girl is almost two; and I am finally just now feeling the the first waves of motivation, pulling me towards working out again.  (I say ‘ first waves’, because it’s going to take a bit of a Tsunami to get me on track).  Just the other night, my workout clothes were lined neatly by my bed, there was a killer playlist on my phone, and my alarm was set for 5:30am to wake me for my morning run.  Oh yeah, I am woman, and I am ORGANIZED!  I even had color coded pens to record my victory on a pretty, new notebook (because did it even happen if you don’t create a chart)?

But the one piece missing from my equation was this very important variable:  my children.  They kind of don’t believe in schedules…  This time around, poor Princess K had a rough night of cutting molars, and with each cry of “Mama” – followed by snuggles in her room – I could feel my motivation slipping…

Midnight – “Wow, 5:30am is going to come early…”

Two a.m. – “I can still do this!”

Three a.m. – “Kind of thinking I should wait until tomorrow?”

Four a.m. – “Yikes, is it normal to be so tired that you walk into a wall?”

5:30 a.m. – “Maybe I can get into shape when the kids leave for college?”

To be honest, this is all new territory for me, because – up until the kiddos arrived – I was focused, fit, living off of whole grains, and running 10 – 15 miles a week.  Now I’m chasing my daughter through Dollar Tree and wondering if the doctor accidentally removed a lung during one of my C-sections.  Because I’m being outrun by a toddler, and I can’t breathe!

I haven’t slept in years, so – yeah – the last thing on my mind has been toning my body, losing the weight, and chopping up a salad when there is leftover macaroni and cheese sitting on the stovetop.  (Anyone else ever consider eating the leftovers in their baby’s scoop bib and calling it a meal?  No?  Hmmmm, yeah, me neither…).

But lately, I’ve felt that pull, calling me to start running again!

(…to be continued…)

 

 

Mini Baked Donuts – Recipe Review

We had another snowy day today…

My son once again woke up and happily declared it to be Christmas, and I had to bring him down a notch or two and patiently explain that we haven’t even quite reached Thanksgiving yet.

“But there’s snow outside,” he countered.

How can a mother argue with that?  It really is beginning to look a lot more like Christmas than my favorite autumn holiday.  (To be honest, it has been harder than normal this year to refrain from putting up our Christmas tree.  Normally we’re pretty stubborn about that and wait until after Thanksgiving, insisting on letting all the pumpkin and ‘thankfulness’ decor in our house get its fare share of the spotlight.  But with the unseasonably cold weather covering us in a blanket of white, I’m ready, my friends!  I’m ready to pull out all the white, cozy, twinkling lights!!).

“I know,” I said, agreeing with the case my almost four-year-old had presented.  “Christmas is coming, I promise!”

He crossed his arms, thought a bit, and then announced, “It’s a good day for donuts!”

I couldn’t let him down twice, could I?  (Let’s ignore the fact that donuts sounded really, really good to me as well).  But since the roads were a bit slick and this mama was enjoying a let’s-stay-in-our-jammies kind of day (which RARELY happens in this busy household), I decided to try my hand again at homemade, baked donuts.

I’ve baked them before, but I honestly wasn’t a huge fan of the last recipe I used.  So I decided to try the mini donuts recipe from the Granny Girl’s blog.  As you can see from their pic below, their donuts are basically the cutest things since cupcakes.  Seriously though.  I want to reach into my computer and sample each one.  But then again, they’re almost too pretty to eat!

(source)

The struggle is real!

I had to give myself a mini pep-talk that this afternoon was merely for testing the recipe and that the mini donuts were for pure taste-bud enjoyment.  Therefore, my donuts were NOT going to look like the pic above.  I didn’t have pretty sprinkles, flakes of coconut, or walnuts on hand…  (And I was cooking with a four year old.  ‘Nough said).

It is VERY important, if you’re a mom, to give yourself these peptalks sometimes.  There will be plenty of time later on for pretty…  Right now, your focus is keeping salmonella from hosting a party in your toddler’s mouth and sweeping up the flour before someone wipes out on the kitchen floor.  (Did you realize that flour sprinkled on a kitchen floor is dangerously slippery?  It is.  Trust me.  Also trust me when I say that toddlers are drawn to egg-shells the way we moms are drawn to coffee.  It’s like the salmonella is calling to them).

So yeah, the sprinkles can sit this one out.

The recipe was really easy to whip together, and was – in my opinion – a winner.  The last recipe I’d used to make baked donuts was muffin-like in texture, which was disappointing.  These have more of a cake-like consistency, which I was looking for.  I also really like the slight hint of spice that the nutmeg and cinnamon add.

The one tip I learned was this…  Don’t over-fill your donut pan!  The first batch I cooked lost their holes, because they rose so much.  So they were more like muffin tops.  🙂  But I corrected that for the second batch, and those came out perfect.  (Obviously, my kiddos didn’t care either way and gobbled them all up, donut holes or not).

I definitely hope to re-make these sometime soon (maybe for the holidays) and put in the effort to decorate them all pretty!  How adorable would a platter of these be for Christmas?!?  But for today, I kept some plain and then tossed the rest in granulated or powdered sugar.

These were perfect for little fingers and went down fast!  Thank you, Granny Girls, for such a delish baked donut recipe.  🙂

If you want to try this out yourself, check out the copy of their recipe HERE.

Enough (part 2)

A few weeks ago, my kids and I were having a particularly rough, grocery shopping trip.  And to be completely fair, the chaos wasn’t all on them.  I’ve been a mom long enough to know that you don’t bring hungry, tired children into a store and then expect them to sit patiently and obediently as you complete your chores.  But it was a particularly busy day, and I had decided to risk the potential craziness by shopping a little too close to nap and lunch time.

(Never again…).

Anyway, we loudly rounded a corner into the baking and spice section, and our carriage lightly tapped the carriage of an elderly gentleman in front of us.

“Oh my goodness, I am SO sorry,” I apologized from the other side of my obnoxiously long, over-flowing shopping cart.

A smile popped onto his wrinkled face, and I instantly liked him.

He took in both hysterical children, paused a moment, then slowly cupped his hands around his mouth and whistled the perfect imitation of a bird.  The mouths of both of my children dropped, and they went silent.

B-Boy gasped, “Hey, how you do that?”

The man replied, “It’s my invisible bird.  He lives in my pocket.”

“I have one too,” Brady announced, cupping his hands over his mouth and blowing as hard as he could through it.  Princess K giggled loudly, which only encouraged him further.  We had gone from angry cries to the sound of laughter and wind.

I really, really liked this adorable, elderly gentleman…  like a lot.

With the kids occupied, the man looked up at me, smiled, and pointed at the spices, saying, “Do you know how to make stuffed shells?  It’s basil that I want?”

I nodded, “Yes, I’d say that basil would be good!  Are you doing some cooking?”

He nodded.  His eyes lowered a bit as he said, “My wife always cooked stuffed shells for my birthday every year.  She’s gone, and it’s just me now.  And I just want to eat them on my birthday and feel like she’s a little closer.”

For one brief moment, time stood still; and I felt as though my breath had been  knocked out of me.  I murmured that I was so sorry.  I helped him find the basil.

He blinked his eyes a few times and apologized, “I don’t want to bother you with my talking too much.

I assured him that I wasn’t bothered at all.  I love to talk!  I proceeded to help him find some of the ingredients he would need, as we kept pace for the majority of the shopping trip.  His infectious smile won over the children, and B-Boy proceeded to call him Grandpa (obviously having enough love in his heart to adopt another grandfather into his life).

Both kids giggled, and gave him high fives, and played peek-a-boo.  I invited him to church; and we chatted a lot about the weather, upcoming holidays, and just life in general.  We had gone from insanity to embracing the beauty of the moment faster than I could comprehend, and I just knew that we had been meant to bump into each other.

Before we parted ways, I told him, “Thank you for helping me with the kids today!”

He softly said, “Thank you for taking time to talk with me.  I haven’t had anyone to talk to in awhile.”

As we walked off, B-Boy gave one final wave as he happily called out, “Bye, Grandpa!”

I looked back to see the man’s wrinkled face beaming with the largest, happiest of smiles.

To be honest, I almost cried for most of the car ride home, because my heart was so broken for him.  But God put on my heart that He had sent me – a frazzled, busy mom – and my children to that elderly gentleman to help shine a beam of joy into his life.  To help him maybe feel a bit of purpose and love again.

Had I been shopping alone, in stylish boots and calm state-of-mind, I would have walked right by that lonely soul who needed a bit of kindness.  It was the chaos – the noise of two fidgety children being pushed in a runaway carriage – that brought us together.  That actually allowed him to help me in the moment, which opened the door to us helping him.

I was reminded that while mom life has maybe changed some of the ways that I can share God’s love with others, it hasn’t destroyed it.  God is powerful enough to use us in every single stage of life (even in the busy mom stage), through the good and the bad.  We just need to be willing to be used.

God doesn’t put us on a backburner and say, “Come back when you’re put together again, and then we’ll figure something out.”  He uses us in the midst of the messy craziness and sometimes even BECAUSE of it.

Because while we moms are so often struggling to find self worth and meaning amidst the daily routine, God sees us.  Loves us.  And USES us.  Not only for the families we hold so close but for the others that cross our paths.  And while we might not be hosting large fundraisers or volunteering for prestigious positions that address crowds, we can choose to show compassion and love for the individuals that God puts in our path.

That one person we reach at a time?  They’re worth it.

Our impact doesn’t have to be loud and grandiose to matter.  And while we moms might feel trivial and small at times, to God… we are enough.

 

Enough

Sometimes, I think that grocery shopping with a couple of caffeinated monkeys would be easier than attempting to do it with my own two children. I mean, we start off all cute and collected.  We’re this beautiful, put-together family, sporting our in-love-with-life smiles and natural curls.  As we’re passing the egg nog and  holiday flavored creamers, we’re a Hallmark commercial come to life.  Shoppers pause to tell me how adorable we all are, and the kids – as if on cue – hug each other affectionately.

That first five minutes of grocery shopping in the dairy aisle is quite beautiful, actually.

Then we hit aisle fifteen.

You can track us down easily by the trail of cracker crumbs we’ve left throughout the store.  Or simply follow my three year old’s screams.

By this point, we’ve brought the crazy.  Both kids are tired of sitting (which apparently is an affliction to children under the age of four, although – if you ask me – being pushed around a supermarket for an hour while being handed snacks sounds a bit like a vacation).  They’ve eaten their fill of crackers and are now demanding something a little more substantial.  Like jelly beans or lollipops.  They’re writhing their bodies in directions that no human was meant to twist into and emitting sounds that closely resemble the call of an injured moose.

Me?  I’m just trying to calmly hold it all together, before Crazed Mom comes out to play.  And while I’m trying my hardest to look composed, people can see it in my eyes.  At this point, if I told the biker dude in front of me to drop and give me twenty, he’d bark back, “Yes, Ma’am!”

I really, really just need to survive this shopping trip.  Then I will have six glorious days before I have to face this particular crisis again; and I can – instead – focus on the other beautiful, yet challenging, moments that fill up the life of a mother.

Just another item checked off my to-do list!

As moms, it’s SO easy to feel that the things we do are small (even though they’re everything to our family).  Because let’s face it, grocery shopping with two children under four years old may feel a bit like trying to catch a tornado with a lasso.  And cleaning up after that tornado every single day – which always seems to pull out the same mess of pom poms, playdough, cheerios, lego’s, and poop – is just as daunting…. and seemingly minuscule.  But if we aren’t doing it, then whose feeding, clothing, and cleaning up after the ones we love the most?  (Let’s face it, contrary to popular belief, there are no magical nannies that float around during the day to take care of the little – and big things – that need to get done).

Without my touch, the day would look something a little different.  (And my husband assures me that he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t survive).  I am blessed – yes, BLESSED – to have the opportunity to be so present in my children’s lives, even if it is really hard some days.  To clean up those pom poms, and wipe that poop, and instruct when we’re swirling through a grocery store like a tumble-weed flying through a windstorm.

But a lot of days, while we’re enveloped by being the mom to little ones,  it’s tempting to feel that as though any difference we make is confined to the walls of our homes.  That God will once again use us once we have a little less crazy and a whole lot more classy in our lives.

But a few weeks ago, during a particularly rough shopping trip, I was reminded that God can use us in the midst of the crazy.  Because of the crazy….

(to be continued…)