Paved with good intentions.

I love Christmas.

I'm the dork blaring the Christmas Music at the stoplight on November 2nd.

I'm the one that walks around Hobby Lobby in October wistfully dreaming of snow as I walk up and down the aisles of ribbon and greenery.

I'm the one in Toys-R-Us filling the shopping cart in September (OK, August) for my Christmas Present layaway.

I love it.

I love the tree, the nativity, the garlands, the stockings, the cookies, the advent calenders, the tree lightings, the cards, the parades, the centerpieces, the wreaths, the lights, the snow, the ornaments, the specials, the parties, the food, the wrapping, the Nutcracker Ballet...

But I'm sorry. I have to stop.

I'm tapping out.

I want to do the Random Acts of Kindness calendar, Shepard's Pouches, and yes... even though it's kinda-sorta creepy and we don't do Santa..... I do want to do Elf on the Shelf, but I'd end up doing Wandering Wisemen.

But I can't.

Because it's going to. kill. me.

Well, maybe not kill me. No, I'll most likely live to see the new year in... But it's going to kill my soul. The joy that comes with this special time of year.

You know, that joy our children have when they see a 40 foot Christmas tree light up for the first time that season. Or when they find the perfect tree at the tree farm and pull it out of the forest all on their own. Or when they decorate sugar cookies and "sneak" a few M&Ms between each plop of icing.

They're happy little balls of joy.

And why? Is it the daily advent calendar with it's family activity and/or goodie? Is it the checking off of to-do lists? Is it the shopping on top of the shopping you've already done for things nobody needs?

Nope. It's because they DON'T do any of that stuff. They just coast along enjoying whatever comes their way. Dreaming of goodies and toys and fun.

Now, are any of of these Pinterest-y/ Facebook-y activities bad? ABSOLUTELY NOT!!!

If you want to do it, go nutty! Be a Super-Pinterest-Woman. Make that garland! Do your advent calendar! Bake 4 dozen of 12 different cookies!  Do a whole darn gingerbread village! Host a both a family AND friend party... on the same weekend! I've had years like that!

This year, not so much apparently.

This year I've felt the call to slow down. To be present with both my husband and child. To meet their needs (not what I feel they should have, based on glossy magazine covers designed by a team of stylists) when all they really need is me. Sane, relaxed, and providing a peaceful place to be.... and homemade hot chocolate with marshmallows.

I'm not saying we're having PB&J's for Christmas dinner. I'm saying it's gonna be a pre-prepped, shove in the oven, two crockpots running kind of Christmas. It's gonna be a popsicle stick ornament kind of Christmas. It's gonna be use what we already have for decorations kind of Christmas. It's gonna be going under budget kind of Christmas. It's gonna be less doing and more being. And that's OK.

Although my intentions of what Christmas should be is a bit more polished and perfect... It's not what it will be. It's messy and imperfect... and mine. And exactly the way God wanted it to be.

My intentions my be good, but getting to that perfect Southern Living look sure can be hell. On everyone.

credit: Ann VosKamp

aholyexperience.com

Fakin' it.

So I feel like a fraud. This blog thing makes me feel like a fraud.

I've taken a break from the blogging because of it. I am no great speaker or writer or conduit from God. I don't have daily epiphanies that bring me closer to Him. I will freely admit that some days I read the Bible on autopilot. I have no great wisdom, I can't share what "works for me" because I haven't found what works for me yet.

I'm a plain ol' mom, who is just struggling to survive the days. Some days that takes less effort than others.

 Some days I can bring myself to spend the entire day in crafty/outsidey/happy/smiley/adventures mode and others I just pray the iPad battery lasts until naptime.

Some days I have great patience and others I send the wild beast outside where she belongs.

Some days I accomplish everything on the to-do list and other days are considered a success if I even make a list.

Some days we have green smoothies for lunch and others I roll through a Wendy's.

Some days I rock and others I just plain suck.

Some days there just is no Joy in the day.

So there it is. The truth.

I see the pins on Pinterest. The pretty little signs to hang on our walls. To remind us.

And some days I can't. There's no joy to be found.  Just survival. Then guilt from not finding joy.

Why should I be joyless? I'm blessed beyond measure: our little house and our little family. But these reminders of what I should feel make me feel guilty, once again less than, because I don't feel joy.

Behind these signs and the blogs I follow I see women, mamas, who seem to have it together. That plaster a perfectly veneered smile on their faces and sing-song-ily say "Choose Joy."

I fake it 'till I make it..... but what if I never make it?


Then this.

And I felt joy. This spoke to me more than the pretty pastel, chevron, chalkboard signs guilting me into joy. This statement makes me want to move mountains. 

Not because it takes the power from God. Not that it puts the power in my hands.... but it allows me to be me; a little ball of fury taking down whatever is in my way. With Him by my side. Coaching me through the day. Not just making a choice but actually DOING something.

Child trying to corner me into a corn syrup filled breakfast? Bob and Weave.

Blowing though both Language Arts and Math lessons in less than 45 minutes WITH comprehension? One-Two-Punch

Facebook friend backdoor bragging about their child's ahead-a-grade-level-reading in their beautiful home remodel on the heels of their warm-weather vacation? Blocking

Attacking the laundry pile? Jab

Toys sorted? Uppercut

Cooking a meal that everyone will eat without any complaints at the dinner table? Footwork

Ending the day with the house a little cleaner, child a little smarter, husband a little more comforted? Punchout

At the end of the day I may be tired out. I may be bruised and battered and swollen. But I hit back. Yes, I do choose joy. Forget "'till I make it".... I'll be faking it 'till I die. But I am gonna punch today in the face. Everyday.... and that makes me a little happy. Even joyful.

one

So, I just got this email from snapfish.... shutterfly.... whatever. It's an email:

Jessica,

Please accept our most sincere apologies. We mistakenly sent an email that was intended only for new parents who recently made baby-related purchases at Shutterfly. We’re truly sorry if you received this email in error. We realize this is a very sensitive issue and we did not mean to upset you in any way.

We care about our customers above all else and have taken measures to ensure this will not happen again. If you have any questions or concerns, please reach out to us atcustomerservice@cs.shutterfly.com and we’ll get back to you.

Sincerely,

John Boris Chief Marketing Officer

Shutterfly, Inc.

And I was all.... Dude, chill. You sent me an offer targeted to those with babies. I don't have one. No biggie. I get all kinds of spam for "performance enhancing" drugs and I don't have anything to... ummm..... enhance.

People are having babies. It's expected.

I'm not. That's life.

No matter if I had 1 more, 5 more or 10 more.... my baby-makin' days were bound to come to an end. And for the foreseeable future, they have.

Am I sad about it? Yes.

Am I happy about it? Yes.

(Please, please, please let ONE person named Mary read this post!!)

It is what it is. Feeling those tip-toeing around the fact that my boobs are purely decorative at this point of my life is worse than knowing that when my daughter grows out of her clothes I truly have no reason to keep them. (Not that it stops me from keeping a few items here and there.) I'm aware of the position I'm in. I'm aware what I'm missing out on... but this is what I have. 

The fact is I love my little family. I love being a mother to one. I could give you a list but here is my number one reason. Everytime, anytime; THIS is why I love having only one child.

When the ball of dirt, hair and smiles comes running to me with a dandy lion clenched in her fist, kisses it and gives it to me.

"I picked it and kissed it for you because I love you. It's a flower-kiss."

I can bundle her up in my arms, look into her (my) grey-blue eyes hiding behind the wisps of her dishwater blonde hair and tell her, without a doubt, without guilt, without a second thought.

"You are my favorite."

And it's the truth.

Growing Up is Hard

I knew we would be asked. Everyone at the office would ask. And they did.

From the nurse that brought us to the room to the hygienist and finally the Dentist himself. They each asked in turn:

"How's the thumb sucking?"

"Welllll...."

(From 2012, but the idea is still the same)

If you know my daughter personally and have spent any length of time with her I'm sure you've noticed her ambidextrous thumb sucking skills. It's a gift, really. A gift that must end for the sake of her teeth (and our orthodontic bill).

But I don't want it to end. This little girl, my only go-round with motherhood, is growing up and I just don't want to watch it happen anymore. I want her to forever curl up in my lap and suck her thumb as I rock her the in the last few moments of each day. I want to look back in the car and see her in the booster seat with one thumb in her mouth another on her ear as she dreams out the window. I want to know what that little "thuk-thuk-thuk" noise is when I check on her at night with my eyes unadjusted to the dark.

I had to let so much go already, can't I hold on to this last little bit of babyhood a little longer?

No? I know...

We have a strategy: a calendar that we put stickers on in hopes to earn a "thumb trophy" (her Dentist office will make a mold of her thumb and send it home with her) and the promise of  a build-a-bear Rainbow Dash. Because she is a little girl after all.

She's doing very, very well. She catches herself and reminds herself that she's going to stop forever. Even after she gets her trophy. When I catch her not sucking when I know she usually would she bounces towards me with the slight remnant of her baby belly and her lengthening limbs exclaiming "I'm growing up! I hafta grow up! I can't stop!"

Like Wendy moving to the nursery she has to leave her childish things behind if she's to grow up.

Needless to say, she's taking it a lot better than I am.

Unless she really needs it. We've had a couple of meltdowns since the dentist. Nothing earth-shattering. Just crying, weeping, gnashing of teeth. Over TV time limit, over what's for dinner.... You know, typical kid stuff.

Then one afternoon I get this: "But MAMA! I CAN'T reset!!! I can't suck my mouth! Remember?!?!" (Her term for sucking her thumb, which makes the whole act of thumb sucking that much sweeter, right?!)

And in that moment my heart broke into a thousand pieces.

And I did the only thing I knew to do. I opened my arms, let her crawl into my lap and snuggled close to my chest, and I just sang. Little songs that we've sung for years. One after another Not stopping until the tears had ended, until her breathing slowed, until she just sat. Silent. No "thuk-thuk-thuk" sound.

I buried my face in her hair smelling of sweat and shampoo.

"Growing up is hard, but I know you can do this. You're a brave girl. You're a big girl. I believe in you. You can let this go."

I don't know if I was talking to her or to me... but she seemed soothed and bounced back to whatever imaginary world she was in earlier. Ugh. Growing up is hard. I knew it, I just thought I had a few more years before we had to start.

What am I doing with my LIFE?!

Can I just say I adore you? Once again I'm blown away by your support and outpouring of love.

I love knowing that you're out there being blessed. Once again I'm getting positive feedback and encouragement where I didn't even begin to imagine it. I'm being blessed by your being blessed and then you're blessing me back and now I'll try my best to bless you again.

And in all this God's just smiling saying "See.... I told ya!" with his bullhorn.

So if you're being blessed feel free to share this on your Facebook page or with a friend who doesn't know me personally or someone not on Facebook. (Are there still people out there NOT on Facebook?! Good job resisting temptation you peoples.). Then the giant circle of blessings can continue!

If you're not feeling blessed, let me know. Email me. Message me. Text me. Let's talk. Over cookie butter; everyone is blessed by cookie butter.

_________________

I have some very wise people in my life. They probably don't know they're so wise, in fact I'm pretty sure that one particular four year old can't even spell "wise"... but they're there. Feeding me things I didn't even know I was starving for.

Case in point:

My Mother in Law. No... I mean it, my Mother in Law. I love this woman. For the past 15 years she has been my mom where the gap lay. She's my best friend and closest confidant. My sounding board and filter. (My filters are broken.) So for the rest of this and all future posts she will be referred to as "Mom". Yes, this can be a bit creepy if you think about the fact I consider my husband's mom to be my mom too much so let's not linger there very long...  Back to what I was saying.

My Mother in Law: We were having a conversation over dinner last week. I was in the middle of a slump, a lull, a funk. A honest Eyeore's-Lost-His-Tail grumpfest.    

I was feeling overwhelmed and useless as the chaos of keeping up a home was crushing and futile. When there must be more to life than the never ending laundry and the constant sinkful of dishes. Then I tossed out this gem. 

                   

(credit: Homestar Runner. Seriously.)

Mom looked at me and with inadvertent wisdom said "What do you mean 'What are you doing with your life?' You're doing it."

Woah. Mind. Blown.

That's it. Whatever I'm doing with my life is what I'm doing. Every day, every moment. 

If I'm homeschooling or doing dishes or laundry or doing PT or being a wife (Mmmmm..... Dat Beard) or scrubbing floors or making beds or vacuuming or taking my girl to swim classes or cooking dinner or paying the bills or organizing my daughter's toys for the 1,000,000th time this week or blogging or doing MOPS stuff or....

....WHATEVER....

That's what I'm doing with my life. 

The fact is that I'm into my 30's. I've bought, financed and paid off cars. I can file my taxes without a single bead of sweat. Not only do we have a mortgage.... we re-financed this past year!  I'm as "adult" as I'm gonna get before entering the "old" zone. 

THIS is what I'm doing with my life. 

The mundane stuff of life can sound so depressing. 

Shouldn't I be doing MORE? I mean, I personally know ladies who have their own businesses and who are in the process of publishing books and some who have more letters after their name than are in the alphabet... oh and they're wonderful moms, too. (Of course they are, those perfect ladies. Jesus loves you and so do I.)

What happened to those dreams I had of being a photographer or author or social worker or business owner or publicist? How did I go from making that "When I grow up" collage in late elementary school to changing diapers all day, every day?! (Well, not anymore... she's 4.... but you get the idea.)

When people I meet outside of my Mommy world ask me what I "do", I WANT to say more than "I'm a stay at home mom". I want to say "I have my own Etsy shop." or "I'm a freelance writer." or "I started writing this little blog and it just sky rocketed into a national speaking tour." (Dream big, sista. Dream big.)

Several times in the last several years I tried to MAKE things happen. Take on new opportunities just because I could. Things I was good at. Things outside the house, beyond the SAHM life, things that I sold my time to be paid in money or power or prominence or even a better position in heaven. 

Now, before I start getting nastygrams let me clarify a few points: 1- Working outside the house as a Mother is not a sin. Mommyhood takes many paths, each of them specifically for each mother/child(ren) combination. Mommy wars closed, OK? 2- I never did anything inappropriate, from the outside everything looked on the up and up and many of these were "godly" pursuits. (read: No. I was not a stripper....... Why are you laughing?) 3- I know I am saved by grace and not by works now. But I have a heavy Catholic background; old faiths die hard. 

But what was desperately missing from each one of these ventures is that I was not called to them. Let me repeat: I. Was. Not. Called. To. Them. 

Not. Called. To. Them.

Yep, not even that ministry. Yeah, the one where I'm good at stuff. Where I have long learned skill and ability. The one that looks to everyone on the outside a perfect match for me so I should do it. And be happy about it..... but if I am not called by God to serve there. If my focus is no longer serving God but making false idols of pride and vanity. If my own motivation isn't to obey God but seek the praise of man. .... then it will cause me to fall. 

And I fell. 

Hard. 

Into a pit of angry. 

And THAT was depressing.

After I processed the "guilt" that came with leaving each of these jobs/ministries/volunteer positions (Remember: heavy Catholic background) I had overwhelming peace. That cloud of anger and resentment dissipated and I was able to focus on Him and hear His plan for my life. I knew that whatever I was "supposed" to be doing with my time would happen. That if a new opportunity came by and I prayed and waited for a clear answer from God then it would be blessed. 

This means timing the jump just right. In some cases I've already jumped, and it's been awesome. Beyond awesome. Pure awesomesauce. Not all the time, but enough of the time so I know without a doubt He's in it.

In others I'm just waiting for what's next. Waiting but not obsessing. Because when I know, I'll know. 

So in the meantime when the question bubbles and churns in the back of my head. When I find myself the midst of sprawling toys and dirty laundry mountain ranges and dealing with whatever that funky stuff is behind the toilet. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the toothpaste covered bathroom mirror still in my PJ's while the wild beast takes her afternoon nap.... "What am I DOING with my life?!"

I will not spend another moment being depressed. I will stand up straight and proud and unshowered in my 3:30 pm pajamas and say "I am doing THIS because I am called to THIS."

I will let His peace cover me because I am where He wants me to be. For now.

And then I will take a shower.