White Spaces

When I was in kindergarten my teacher would correct me for leaving white spaces on my coloring sheets. Now in fairness, I don't remember if I left big gaps or if it was more like tiny white dots where the wax gets sticky and leaves little white dots. I do remember her words though and her attitude about a lot of things I did or didn't do. I feel you kindergarten teacher I do. With Thanksgiving and Christmas approaching all I can think of is how I want everything to just be perfect. I've been planning and shopping for months now. People say pinterest perfect, but that's not even good enough, I want Southern Living classic perfection.

Perfectly decorated house and yard, food cooked to savory goodness, gifts wrapped unrushed and dainty, elf enjoyed and creatively placed, and girls healthy and well behaved wearing whatever matching or coordinated outfits I plan out. Then I think of the white spaces, the things that just happen that I could let steal my joy. Life. Imperfections that hold the possibility of destruction if I let them set the tone of our Thanksgiving and Christmas. Material things, like bows not being perfect, comparison of who has lights on their roof, or sick kids. Let me tell you, that last one will destroy your plans fast. No trick or treat this year was so hard!

This holiday season, I'm digging my heels in hard and promising myself that I won't get caught up in the things that don't matter. That I will treasure the time I have with my girls, my husband, and our families. When your the momma you set the tone and environment, and it's especially true during the holidays. No pressure! I do this aggravated screechy growl thing when I get especially annoyed and Isla has started to mimic it. I want to set the correct tone, and show my girls why we are celebrating. I don't want to rush the season. I want to savor it and slow down to enjoy this time with my family doing what matters. 

Why are we blessed? Are we grateful in the hard times? Are we celebrating and honoring our Savior? It's so easy to get caught up and lose sight of what is precious. The thankfulness we can focus on even when things aren't going our way. When things don't look perfect, or we feel stretched thin with the rush and travel and we find rest through Jesus. The comfort of His nearness when we miss those who are far or no longer with us. The thankfulness that's there because I'm the daughter of a King. The joy and peace that comes with the celebration of Christ.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. Romans 15:13.

Every good and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom their is no variation or shadow due to change. James 1:7

His love is real, and bright and I want our home to shine with it.

Joie de vivre

Joy.  Why are y'all so afraid to show it? I could try to stand here and write why don't I show it but I'm not going to lie to you or smudge the lines. We'll save that for a good Smokey eye one evening. Is there some kind of mommy club now where y'all feed off of each other's jealousy, snarky comments about other mommas, and stale graham crackers? Does someone win a bag of old slimy potatoes for having the worst life?  Is your life really that bad? I would tell you I'm sorry your life is so terrible but I'm not sorry. I told y'all I'd be real.

I'm not talking about venting, or heartfelt used up exhaustion here, and I'm not going to tell you to stop complaining. That's not who I am. I'm a firm believer in being able to pour your heart out to someone before you get crazy eyes. Complaining happens. My moral code says you don't betray a momma who is venting out of frustration. Or judge your friends based on their complaints. She needs you. Feelings really and truly matter. Struggles with children matter. Telling a momma who needs you to listen to her to hush up makes me want to say hold my earrings and send my seconds out after you.

Yet there's a time when its not these genuine struggles or matters and it gets old. There's a time when it stops being venting and complaining and it becomes a concern. It stops being complaining and becomes a complete lack of joy. Maybe it's just me but if it gets to the point where someone is constantly complaining about their children or their life I want to tell them to do something about it like a lifestyle change. Go get a job, and see what that's like.  Maybe then life won't be so dang bad, right? It's not of my business though.

I get it. Babies are work. A house is work. Laundry is work. Everything is hard. Y'all it's hard for everyone. Life is work. Everyone is busy and tired. Self sacrifice y'all. Suck it up and deal with it. FIND THE JOY.

Joie de vivre, joy of living. It matters. Take pictures of the little things that make you happy. Stop being afraid that someone is going to think you're bragging about those flowers or that sweet thing your husband did. Take that step with me. Be happy for others.

Close your eyes when you take that first sip of sweet tea. Rejoice in the blessings of having children and enjoy them. Don't let others bitterness bring you down. Maybe it's where I'm from.... That I was taught to consider taking joy in so many little things like gumbo, flowers, rain boots, and pearls that they become huge things that magnify the joy in my life.

Blessed are those that are flexible because they do not get bent out of shape. Deal with it. Wipe the poop, put that poopy diaper in the garbage, wash your hands and put on some lipstick. What we have is good enough and there is more joy and blessing in that 15 year old comforter than that fancy new one I bought on sale 2 months ago.

Roll your eyes at the garbage and just breathe.

When some of us say we're blessed, we really really are blessed.

Brave to be Inadequate

Inadequacy. I am not enough. I am inadequate. It seeps in and spreads through my bones, in hushed tones until my heart is screaming, "YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH!" You are not talented, you are a failure, and you are not enough. This one word, has been the focus of my week.

I lounge here, lacking words, and my brain goes just quit. No one will notice, no one really reads these stupid whiny blogs but you. Yet, I try. Again. Because if I am anything I am extremely tenacious and obsessive.

My husband who claims he isn't an encourager gave me some wisdom this week. One evening I was feeling discouraged, I just can't seem to do. I try and I try but I just can't do. I don't know why but I fall short and I try but I can't. I'm not good enough. Why are you so perfect when I fail at this specific thing constantly? Why do we have this exact conversation with these exact feelings from me all the time.  He let me in on a little secret, I dig at it. Harsh truth, cause good gravy do I dig and pick at mysel! I obsess, it's my focus, and I can't let go, and I do this with just about everything. Every flaw or short coming, because I am inadequate. It's like a poison.

I am not enough, and it seeps out of me and into my world where I affect my family. I have woe. What if it's contagious? What if it's learned? Why do I have so much emphasis on what others think of me? If I post this blog will people think I'm an attention hog or crazy? Why is it so hard for me to believe in myself and that I have gifts and talents? That I can do!

When my life is not perfect, and it's not meeting my expectations I tend to panic. I failed. Then I base my self worth on my mistakes instead of what I'm doing right. Constantly.

This morning, I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and came upon a live broadcast of Mom Con,  and the speaker was like a gift from God to me. She said we are fighting battles no one can see. I wonder how many of you know my battle with inadequacy because until now you probably couldn't see it. Then she gave me chills, as she read a list of problems she said inadequacy.

This week my husband, the good Lord, a conventional speaker, and my heart have shown me to continue to fight the battle to be me. I am more than the amount of house work I get done in a day. My worth is not based on the amount of likes my fall wreaths got on Facebook, how I look, what perfume I wear, or my favorite shoes. I am not defined by my habits, good and bad. I am defined by God Almighty, and He does not make mistakes y'all.

Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows. Luke 12:7

So today, I'm brave to be inadequate. 

Bold

Sometimes I don't know why I write this blog. In the past 3 weeks I've gotten 2 posts started and they just seemed too scattered, too emotional, and too raw. I look at my heart and I gain insight into myself. I am scattered. I am emotional. I am raw. I have been broken, to the point that I cried because I couldn't watch a football game. Fox in Texas won't play the Saints game when a Texas team is playing too.

I've asked the Lord a lot lately, why? Why me? Why are we here when I feel like it'd be easy to be back in Louisiana? Why am I so soft hearted? Why do I get dealt the hand of cards I do with life? Can I just quit and hide in my house? The season of brokenness that I realized I was in the middle of while standing in my kitchen eating spinach artichoke dip has just been down right hard. Isla and Lily have changed me. Life has changed me. I have struggled with what I look like and what I have time for now. Questioned who I am and what I love doing. Let little defeats add up til they pile up and break me.

I've been incredibly awkward in my own skin. I've examined my ways and thoughts and body, and decided I wasn't good enough. That I don't fit. I've blamed it on location. I've taken my flaws and put them on the table and picked them apart until I've come to the conclusion that someone like me doesn't deserve the blessing of the Toby, Isla, Lily and the weenies. I've avoided blaming it on my heart and thoughts, because I do fit. I am the right woman for my husband and my daughters and puppies.  I am majestically designed by a Creator who knows what He is doing. He created a girl who takes so much joy in little things like manicures, chocolate, bubble baths, Fall, and crafts. I do mean little, tiny happy things that pale in comparison to the big picture of my family and comfort of my Savior.

I am uniquely designed in a way that I am the perfect match for Toby, but on those bad days I don't see it. Isla turned around quickly and bumped her forehead on our cabinets the other day. Toby mentioned that she has some of my quirks, and that I might be able to really encourage her when she is older. My skin, to me is so awkward but the thought that it could be a blessing to Isla shows me all the more that He knows me and what He is doing. It's so easy to forget and to get caught in the storm of not good enough.

I was driving and the song Just say Jesus came on, and the words I've heard many times really ministered to me in this season of brokenness.

Life gets tough, and times get hard
It's hard to find the truth in all the lies

If you're tired of wondering why
Your heart isn't healing
And nothing feels like home
Cause you're lost and alone just screaming at the sky

When you don't know what to say
Just say Jesus
There is power in the name
The name of Jesus
If the words won't come
Cause you're to afraid to pray
Just say Jesus

Whisper it now, or shout it out
However it comes out, He hears your cry
Out of nowhere He will come, you got to believe it
He will rescue you
Just call out to the Way, The Truth, The Light

So I tell myself and you too. We are good enough. I came across a scripture today that really called out to me when I was playing around on Facebook and it tied things together for me.

In the day when I cried out, You answered me, And made me bold with strength in my soul. Psalm 138:3

Our Jesus loves us, and when we feel those soul breaking thoughts we need to only think, only whisper His name, and He will give us strength to love ourselves just as He made us.

A welcoming home

I preface my post with this today: this is my blog and these are my opinions and thoughts.

I've been fooled and super discouraged this last year. Maybe the last 2 years. I have bought into the lie that I am not capable. I get it, it's the new trend to be the "sticky floor" mom. I really have no other term for it. Yes I'm calling it a trend. All I can think of is that sign about the sticky floors. All I can think of is chaos, mess, and the crutch we can turn it into and let us defeat us.

It has sunk me down because what's the point in picking up after the girls if they make a mess again? What's the point in the joy of cleaning or a pretty home? Can I please just have my pretty house? I'm a momma now, I'm not supposed to have time to clean or get caught up on housework. It's not going to happen, accept it. My heart simply can't take it. I want to take pride in my home. I like to decorate, and it's alright I spend the time I do on that. I enjoy it. It's possible to spend time with my girls and clean. No one is neglected. In fact, when I haven't put forth effort it's not been pretty.

I get it. Let's extend the grace and acceptance, sincerely and fully to the seasons we need it. However, let's encourage each other that it's really quite attractive to have a clean home. A warm, welcoming place that it's ok that there aren't sticky floors because honestly the thought of that gives me anxiety. I'm just not a sticky floor mom, at least not for very long. There might be clutter though. I want to try though. I don't want to accept defeat.

I've always had joy in my house when it feels welcoming. I've really felt good when someone has commented it's clean or smells good. These are just some little quirks I have and I want to work at getting the girl back who isn't scared to be just a housewife anymore. It really burns my biscuits that there's this stereotype surrounding women who really do like to be a homemaker. Cause I do. I genuinely love it. I don't want to be anywhere else most of the time!

I remember the moments when women were celebrated because they had a clean, welcoming home and personality and I wanted to be that kind of woman! I feel like we don't celebrate that kind of woman often anymore. I'm not sure if I'm broken, but I miss it being a high regard to be that woman or that it's an amazing priority to want to learn those habits. Or to exhibit them.

Let's face it, we feel welcomed if someone took the time and effort to prepare for us. I'm not saying scrub everything down unless that's your thing. I'm definitely not saying it will always be clean how you want it and just fabulous. Sometimes it'll be messy and need work. It's not always going to be lemon fresh over here but with the power of Pine Sol, and elbow grease we'll do just fine. Toby has been so incredibly good at reminding me about this and I just try again. I am saying that for me at least, I'm not accepting this stigma anymore. I'm banishing it.

And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9

My Fruits

I've been thinking about my fruits the past month. What do people see in my life and in me? What does my family see? Lord, where is there room for learning and improvements? Recently I've decided to make some changes in my thinking. I want to be a positive person. I dont want to dwell on what's wrong, but what I'm grateful for instead.

I'm married to an optimist who challenges me and calls me out when I'm negative. Lately, it's been a lot. My husband, my rock, who helps me even if it's tough. I don't want to be that girl any more. There's a lot that I've prayed about this past week. Lord, teach me how to be more positive! Lord, what's my heart reason for this desire? Father, am I honoring you in my actions, my words, and my priorities?

I can tell y'all, those who are still reading, there have been a LOT of days where my heart and head hasn't been in the right place. Especially when it comes to having a grateful heart over location. It's ok to be homesick. It's not ok to dwell. We are here for a reason. This city has beauty. My house is my home. My attitude is my choice.

Am I focusing on the tasks that need to be priority in my home? No, I haven't lately. I've only done ok, enough to get by, and I've ended up overwhelmed by the amount of clutter. I'm not a sparkling clean kind of girl but I love a tidy good smelling house! I take pride in my home, and that's ok. It's who I am, and I can manage my time better and not become a stress monster when I stumble. It's ok that there's change, even if it means I need putty and paint.

Am I a good friend? Have a stepped out of my comfort zone? I love to be a hostess, but fear has kept me back in the last year. That fear is not Godly. I've had extreme conviction in my heart about opening up my home more often and I've ignored it many times. That's just lame. I'm going to worry less about rejection. I'm going to take advantage of opportunity!

Have I been the best momma I can be? Have I had patience? Have I been a good role model? I can honestly say I haven't been the kind of momma I want to be lately. I do not want to teach my girls stress and negativity. I want them to learn how to handle sticky situations with abundant grace. I'm about to get 50s housewife on y'all but I want them to know how to take care of a house, family, and themselves.

Do I speak life and show the love of Jesus to others? Am I staying accountable to the higher standards I believe that are right for me? So grateful for sufficient grace. Cause I know I can work on myself. There is room for improvement, with a teachable heart!

So me bravely, I'm starting a journey to really work on my heart.

My thorns

In this quest for getting more comfortable in our home, aka me feeling happier here I've decided to take on some landscaping projects. My recent has been simply repotting bouganvillia into larger pots and moving the flowers that needed a new home to hanging baskets so come football season and fall I can have purple and gold flowers! Cause ya know, Geaux Tigers!!

 Flowers and gardening have always been something I enjoy but it's so different here in San Antonio. It's dry. We have droughts. It stinks. I grew up rejoicing in storms and wearing rain boots, but here my boots are made out of leather and are good for dancing! It takes extra work like watering more often, and figuring out the best place for what plant, and we have to have low water, full sun things or the plant usually dies. I learned this the hard way a few times.

I've been so homesick lately. This last weekend Toby drove us out to New Braunfuels, because he knew it'd make my heart happy to see a river and moss!  He puts up with me when I'm sad. My husband is such a gift to me and the girls too! Traffic was horrible and he drove in that mess for me, and on the way back with a toddler throwing a hissy fit, to make me smile. He had a good attitude about it when he could have been frustrated. I could have been less stressed out that he was going to a lot of trouble for me.

Bouganvillia has thorns, but vibrant pink flowers. I have thorns too. My attitude can make or break our day around here. I can choose life speaking words or I can pierce with my tongue and actions. The hearts of my sweet darlings, and my husband too, need to be built up and it's my purpose to ensure that I do just that. I can choose joy, and speak it. There are days it's hard to put my goals and self second or third, sometimes forth, but it's more than just me now. I feel like I fail sometimes but the Lord gives me grace and an abundant amount of it. That grace and my family are my pink flowers.

Love and Jambalaya

I've been thinking a lot about acts of love this month. Maybe it's because summer is wedding season and we've been to 2 weddings that really just exemplified love between the bride and groom. Maybe it's because my husband sacrificed time, energy, and finances for us to travel to Louisiana for a few lagniappe days with my momma. I needed those days. Always so very good to see my momma and even the recharge I get from the humidity and the culture. It restores my Louisiana part of my heart.

It's not easy to sacrifice for someone else, but after Toby and I had some good conversation about sacrifice. Sacrifices for each other and for our girls. They require no thought and effort sometimes but more often they require a ton of effort. At times a ton of driving! Parenting is hard, it sucks the energy out of me some days. Putting together a swing set for us all to enjoy and benefit from is a labor of love. Fixing jambalaya, even though it's methodical and habit now, is an act of tasty love. Those pots don't wash themselves.

Sacrifice is worth it, and sacrifice doesn't mean you or I am a doormat. I think it's taken me awhile, to convince myself of that but it's truth. So me bravely, my sacrifices don't equivalent me to doormat status but are acts of love and love always makes me a better girl!

Pink, pearls, and femininity

I'm going to be blunt in this post. I'm incredibly sick of seeing women who call themselves feminists participating in the double standard that little girls shouldn't have things that are pink or play kitchen or princess. That to like those things and to buy them for our girls is demeaning them. That it's dated for any woman to stay at home, recognize her husband as their family leader, and to hold Christian beliefs.

It's only ok to think for yourself when you think like them.

I call bull honky.

We are raising girls in a world that wants to imprison them by the mindset you will be less than if you like pink and bling, and if you want to have families and stay at home to raise them. If you want to stay at home with your kids and take care of your house you might as well take away women's rights. I am more than barefoot in the kitchen. I'm not pregnant currently but having 2 babies in 3 years is ok by me. I'm not an incubator. Don't lessen me and my life to that. I'm strong and I have my own thoughts and can think for myself.

I'm smart, educated, and classy. It's my choice to choose the lifestyle of a stay at home mom. It's my choice to hold the set of beliefs that I do. It's my girl's choice to play with watering cans, dirt, and dress up shoes that are hot pink with purple hearts. Leave her be. She wants my necklace and an apron, it is fine. Her wearing these things has not lessened her ability to count, to think, and to experience adventure even at age 2. Her bows don't dumb her down. You discredit her, not her family who supports her.

Stop trying to demean my daughter and categorize us by what we like to wear, buy, and play with in our home. Stop determining that we are dumb and can't think for ourselves because we don't think like you. Open your bubble to practice what you preach on choice. It's you that sets us back. Bless your heart.

Enjoy them

Those were the words the sweet lady at Cracker Barrel told us after she took a family picture for us. Enjoy them. Words of wisdom from a woman who looked well put together, a little older, and who I can imagine may have raised a family through many many seasons. There are times when I don't enjoy them though. At least I wouldn't call it focusing on joy. There's poop, crying, barf, and stickiness some days. It's hard. It's stressful, but there's peace and beauty and living in my life.

We are the parents that truly, utterly love and mostly enjoy our sweet little darlings. We spoil them and it's ok. I've had to teach myself that. Isn't that pathetic?! It's ok to spoil and like my girls. It's all good to let them wear dresses and frilly things, and bows and let them play barefoot and eat a piece of chocolate. It's ok to focus on what we're blessed with and to soak all of it up and let it radiate out like sunshine.

Our anniversary was this past weekend and looking back 6 years to our newlywed stage to now, priorities have drastically changed. Toby and I had our very first night together without the girls. We haven't had a night together in over 2 years, until this weekend. We've had dates but nothing overnight and it was weird. Great but it was such a change of pace for us. We ate slow, and both got to sleep in a little bit. It was amazing. It was a recharge of batteries we knew were in need of refreshment.

Once we got the girls back with us though it was back into our usual pace. Our life isn't easy, but I really love it. When I focus on what we are blessed with and how much love we have in this house I'm a better happier woman. We took them to the beach and it was windy. We didn't really care. It was a waste of precious moments to be the stressed out momma. So I wasn't. I played in the water and sat on the sand with my girls. I looked at the sand collecting on their feet and legs, and it was like manna to my heart. There were little white crystals and brown grit on our toes, and the air smelled like salt and was thick with humidity. Toby played with Isla in the water and I sat with Lily where the waves would push a teeny bit of water up over her legs.

Lately the Lord has been whispering to me to slow down and enjoy. Toby always points out how much more fun things are when I'm not stressed or rushed. We may not have the busiest lives but I've been called to slow down. To find peace in what isn't my expectation of perfect. To be realistic and myself, and to really just enjoy my life and my family. My girls are delightful and I want to spoil them with experiences, time, and love through all these seasons and those that are to come.

Where is the moss?

 Deep in my heart I've been feeling inadequate so often that I've questioned why do I have what I do when I'm so unworthy of it all. Why me? I'm not the perfect mom type. A lot of the time I've been struggling with contentment and inadequacy. Living here in Texas has been a struggle some days. I remember when we found out we were moving here. I was excited but scared, and at that point it never even crossed my mind how much would change.

Culture, lifestyle, and that my mom wouldn't be an hour away anymore. She'd be at least 8 and that was without kids. I made jokes to hide how utterly homesick I felt. It wasn't bad here and never has been and it's exciting here. The land is beautiful. Hills and rock, and sunshine! However, it's a huge change of pace and I have a hard time with change.  Even though I wasn't born in Louisiana it was the first place that felt right and crept into my bones and soul. Within a year of living here I was pregnant with Isla and after having her in January I was hit hard with how far my mom lived and that the support system I had in Louisiana was miles upon miles away.

I prayed and asked the Lord to open my heart to San Antonio and what friendships it could bring into our lives especially mine because I stay at home with the girls. Let's face it, it's lonely to be a stay at home mom at times. It's even harder if you have my personality and just want to host and visit and do all the time. It was rough when we knew few people here and I was a stay at home wife. Our apartment was pretty clean. Getting married young we had a living on love apartment so when we moved here our apartment was stunning. Then our house was awe inspiring. I've had to keep praying.

Yet I've had a bad attitude because of so many things when I should have you counted my blessings. There have been days where I'd think seriously where are the azaleas and moss, if I have to see another sago Palm or cactus I'm going to lose it. I have to actually water my plants here. I don't speak Spanish and I have no idea what this person is saying to me. It's dry. I miss the river. I miss Natchitoches Christmas. I'm so out of place here. Wah. Wah. Wah. Seriously. I'm learning, and I'm doing a good attitude from here on out. When people talk to me I don't want them to walk away from the conversation thinking she's not happy to be where they are because it's not true. I need to focus on what is good.

Finding a moms group was an immense blessing because I was at the point where I was done being so lonely. Not having anyone in the mommy trenches here with me was tearing at me. It's good to have friends, but when they have no clue what you are going through and can't because they aren't living those days, it's like your heart is going to explode. Mutual understanding of how much you love your children but they're driving you crazy and you want to just go potty without interruption will bond you. I have been super convicted to really put myself out there in the next year so that other moms have a friend who they can talk to and build community with because this mom thing is hard.

So me bravely, I'm blessed and I'm going to show it so you know it, and I'm going to be your friend.

all the mommies are tired

All the mommies are tired. Before I was a momma I knew that it was a tiring and hard season of life but until I started living it I had no idea. No real grasp on what it's like to be exhausted and to function even though you'd rather rest. Some days I know with my 2 kids I still have so much to learn about what it is to be tired. I feel like there's more coming. In fact I know there's more coming because I'm pretty sure we aren't done with our family yet. The more the merrier right?

So many of my friends are moms in a similar stage of life with young children, who are learning with their husbands how to navigate through the fatigue, the messiness of life, and the joys and hard times that come with it. I've been so guilty of chastising myself for complaining but truth is that life is hard. It's grimy and sad, and hard. We need to stick together, because this world can suck you in and bring you down if you let it.

I recently discovered that 2 year old children can slip away from view and be out the door in no time at all. Twice. The fear that overtook me is still lingering and despite reassurance from a few friends and Toby, I feel so much fear because of, what if. What if Isla made it further outside, what if someone didn't stop her, and what if I didn't look up see her and run. I feel like the last 3 days has been a rollercoaster of up and down and then raw. This world we live in now is scary to me. She's so precious and young that Isla doesn't know it's scary though.

Isla didn't realize at the moment she walked out then ran that mommy was tired or that Lily needed attention too. Or that momma had to pick up and collect belongings because she's 2 1/2 years old, and she's not living it. After all I'm the momma and she's the baby. She didn't know her momma was praying for her to stop and to be safe, and that I started before she was born and haven't stopped. I wonder how many prayers Jesus hears a day from worried mothers. I know I breathe them so often.

2 1/2 years, the last time Toby and I were alone with each other. We love being parents, but it's stressful, hard, tiring, and worth it, but we need a break too. Fear for me can bring perspective. It can show me what counts, priorities, and if I don't let it bury me, realistic understanding of who I am as a mom. I also know what I need to change. I need so desperately to stop feeling guilty.

I'm a momma bear. I'm strong but I'm weak. I'm tired but I'm happy. I'm guilty of beating myself up for what I do wrong instead of finding joy in what I did right. I'm ready for a vacation with just my husband, to try to put away the mommy for a few hours and be a wife, and be me. To relax and not feel guilty for taking time to be a better mommy later. To chill out, unwind, breathe and maybe be barefoot and dance.

Little brown flecks

I wonder at times how others perceive me. I've been stressed and messy, and calm and collected on and off since becoming a mother. Maybe really always. I have a set of peeling furniture at my house. When we bought it 3-4 years ago it was pretty and soft. I still remember the day it came to our apartment and how cool it was to make our first big grown up purchase. Life has happened. The couch started peeling so it got a slip cover. Then the loveseat started peeling so it's now covered. Meanwhile I've been ashamed so I've hidden my peeling furniture from the view in my pictures.

We've moved things around, gotten a new sofa but the love seat is still there, peeling. It sheds its little brown flecks on my vacuumed carpet. It thankfully hasn't gotten in Lily's mouth much because we avoid it. I used to try to cover it with a blanket but blankets tend to turn into capes with Isla pretending to be Elsa. The cover helps some but it's still peeling and messed up under the cover. I stopped asking people over because I'm embarrassed of my peely loveseat.  You'd think I wouldn't care but I do.

Our solution has been just deal with it. Vacuum more often. Don't sit on it as much. This weekend it's being relocated to our family room because the superficial streak in me likes her pretty living room more than the practical side who speaks that moving it gives us  more seating in the family room. I realize at times I care far too much about what others might think of me. There are people in this world who feed their children dirt cakes to ease hunger pains and I've been embarrassed over furniture.

There have been times when I've felt imperfect so I've put my own slip cover on and hidden myself. Then others I've been too real and felt ashamed at how I've felt and what I said.

It's humbling when you realize you've been wrong. It's sometimes a struggle to remember to be grateful for what is in my life even if it's not my vision of perfect. That I have peeling couches that may be covered up, stains on my carpets from dogs and kids that seem to happen more often than not, and with each of these things and lives comes mess, responsibility, and blessings more than I could fathom. I feel so undeserving yet they are there in my life. Even when I lose sight of my priorities.

Paper Towel Dad

My husband helps. One night several weeks ago or maybe only a few my husband was loading our dishwasher while I talked to him about how bothered I was that I felt like women were martyring motherhood. While being a mom is incredibly difficult, the hours are crazy, the tasks are sometimes quite gross, and breaks are often even spent multitasking. Society has had a way of trying to empower women to feel entitled but yet at the same time we're gulited into thinking we can't take a break because strong women don't. Or if we take a break our houses and all our hard work will enter into a land of utter chaos with dad in charge. We have to do it all.

There's a paper towel or cleaner commercial that really just bothers me. Yet again mom went to go do whatever and dad let all manner of crazy happen. Crayon walls, splatters of food, gum, chaos and the commercial implies that the male species is just absolutely helpless and is a bit of a doofus. So for me I think well mom took a break, and things went nuts. Compared to what happens when I leave the girls with their daddy for a few hours the commercial is an extreme exaggeration and an extreme annoyance. Is it really ok to portray dads and husbands as though they're not capable of responsibility and respect? I personally don't think it is, yet it continues to pop up on my tv and my Facebook feed, and I'm left feeling more disgusted with advertisers than the commercial itself. Don't get me wrong it's ok to joke, but the serious dirty laundry should be in the washing machine.

I've talked to friends, and I've done an informal survey on Facebook (thanks to my partipants) that women get help. Our husbands are incredibly competent, some of them finding time after long deployments to help, doing dishes, watching kids, taking out trash, and doing yard work even though some of us ladies stay at home. I never knew how hard it was to stay at home with 2 little girls and try to get clothes folded and put away. It's hard sometimes to listen to crying in the raw hours of the early morning when sleep is all I want. I can't even imagine what it's like to work at a full time job outside of my little world here because I'm home full time and I still get behind. I've always thought surely those ladies are super women sacrificing their weekends and nights to clean, but at least their house doesn't get dirty during the day. I've thought before that I don't get why they complain when they must come home to a clean house every day. That's wrong of me. Those houses get messy too. It's ok if we're put together, it's ok if we're behind, it has to be because it is and it just happens. Any help around here is like gold and I like where I am.

Those that didn't get the same types of help, didn't have an issue with it! It's just an everyday part of their lives. It's ok to have a different dynamic where husbands don't do dishes, laundry, or pick up stuff. Living in San Antonio has given me a crash course in other culture, and it hasn't always been easy for me to understand. Our lives are not all the same, some of us who have had to learn to accept the help, while others have no desire for their husband who has been overseas, who fight fires, who protect, or who drill to do something other than spending time together. We all need breaks. It's unfair to assume everything should be fair all the time, and that what works here at our house will work at yours. It's a trap I've caught myself in before thinking if she can I can, but I can't always. I don't have to do some of the things others have to because I have help. He's honestly better at loading the dishwasher than I am but he burns my kale. It's give and take.

There was a world's toughest job video that meant to elicit mommy love because it's so hard to do what she does. It's hard, but it angered me to think that something I feel so blessed with is so agitating to others. I've had my moments, remember I promise realness, where I've felt used up, tired, discouraged, and overwhelmed. It happens. It still does. It's ok. I got angry though at that video. It hit a nerve. I'm not being shot at or trying to lift a burning beam from someone, or watching someone's son die because he didn't wear a seatbelt. I deal with diapers, the clingy, the waking at 3 am, and the burdens that aren't so heavy that come with being a momma. I feel empowered with the thickness of love when I go check on my girls at night and I don't remember what was hard about the day in those moments.

Experience leads us to learn about ourselves. Most of my life I've been around military families and I consider it a blessing though bittersweet when they get orders elsewhere. I have never once heard any of my mommy friends who are military spouses complain about what they have to take care of, it's just done. They just get it done, and it's not a question of resentment but it's life. I hope that wording comes across the correct way. It has enlightened me to what isn't that hard in my life but rather me having a bad attitude.

There have been days where I've wanted more help, but I didn't ask. I didn't ask until I exploded with frustration that I had too much to do but too many other things I could barely handle. I've been tired, entertained the wrong priorities, and been humbled to ask for help. I'm still learning how to ask for help if I need more. Plus it's incredibly attractive to watch my husband take a nosy toddler and a crying baby out of the room to play with them so I don't burn supper.

Time to feel beautiful and renewed

There's this mom who is in a mom's group I'm a member of and I have watched her minister to my heart in the last year. You see this mom often has her nails painted, her hair is well taken care of, her skin looks fabulous, and I'm pretty sure she's gone down at least 2 dress sizes since I've met her. Not to mention, she shines the love of Jesus when I talk to her. I'm not going to mention names. I don't want to embarrass her if she by chance reads this so that's that.

Do I think she wakes up this way? No, not at all. It takes effort, sweat, time, and heart. It takes heart to put down the dishes or leave the laundry, even the family to go take time to yourself. You know what, I don't like deserving attitudes in anyone but I will say that my momma friends desperately need to do something for them. Even if it's sitting outside just being still, a bath, a pedicure, crafting, or playing on the floor with 4 stinky dogs because it's just as good for them as you. It's beneficial for your family when you are not stressed out. 

These days with little ones it's hard sometimes to snatch time to yourself, but do it. Stop feeling bad because that's a choice too. I know women tend to say things to each other like, "how do you have time?" You make time. It's taken me far too long to believe this in my heart and apply it to my life!

We take care of our families. We need to take care of ourselves too. I have been so guilty of letting myself go the past 2 years because it takes effort and sometimes I feel like it's pointless to get knock out pretty for my 2 year old and 6 month old. It's not. The 2 year old is watching, and learning how she will take care of herself. She will learn priorities from me, and if I don't take the time to make devotional time, fixing my hair, or drinking a glass of water when I'm thirsty she won't either. They need to see me take care of my body so they do the same. 

I want them to watch me and know what counts. I want them to grow up, which aches, and be confident in themselves and be willing to take a hot shower, read, and make time for fitness. Or just simply spend time with Jesus because they need that time to themselves.

Happy woman is also happy wife, and a better mood is something a man can get used to because husbands don't like coming home to the frumpy grump. It's a good feeling inside when you feel refreshed, and it tends to be contagious. So my challenge to myself this last month has been to take time for myself. Pinterest and Facebook do not count. Reading, crafts, nails, walking, and doggy piles do and my husband has noticed a drastic change in my attitude. He's even had to push a little to remind me it's ok for me to go out for an hour to go grocery shopping alone. Isn't that sad? I'm letting that guilt go. I'm not teaching that to my girls either. 

There are so many different things you can do! Do your nails, so many fun polishes and jamberry nail stickers are precious. Take a bubble bath or even just a shower. Read, there are free books out there or grab your Bible! Go shopping. Eat lunch with a friend. Call your momma and talk to her just because. Exercise. Make the recipe you've been too chicken to try out! Go get your hair done or get a massage. Fix up your backyard. Light your favorite candle. Anything. Just do it and don't feel bad. Even if it takes a few times or many to get where you don't feel the need to guilt yourself for taking care of you.

So my sweet friends, please take time for yourselves because the pay off will make you rich! 

Be you bravely

I promise realness.

Lately I've been feeling grumpy. At mothers. Mothers who complain about how mess filled their lives are and that they are imperfect so that others will play part to their ego party. I'm not talking about the imperfect mess moms who have little children and who work hard to get a load of laundry done and put up, and those who find goldfish crackers in the play kitchen. I mean the kool aid mom.

You know her. She's on your facebook feed or instagram, or at work constantly going on about how her house is messy. Her photos usually say "please excuse the mess", and there's no mess. There's no sign that a little one spit up on the carpet or played with legos. Or found make up and had a field day with it.

When did our lives have to become so picture perfect? When did we stop being genuine and feel the need to compete and worry about who does a Frozen party first? Have moms always been like this or did something snap within the day pinterest opened to the public?

When did it become trendy to be the imperfect mom? Maybe I'm judgey? I'm just tired of that mom. She isn't real. She isn't brave. She's there though, in me. In me when I'm scared to be me, bravely. 

So here is my promise. Of realness. Of me. My life where I have dogs that eat diapers, that I love chocolate and bourbon in peach tea, and my house is usually a mess. Laundry everywhere. Sometimes my girls match, it's fun! Then again don't be surprised if you visit unannounced and they're watching Blue's Clues wearing only diapers and grins. 

Cause I'd rather not be that mom.