Where is the space for one to talk about something being hard. Not in a complaining, woe is me, kind of way. But the reality of a season just being hard and needing to process that out? Why does it feel like so often when talking about a hard season it is met with a reminder of all the blessings. Acknowledging a season is hard doesn’t mean that one is not seeing the blessings within the season. Every season is mixed with so much beauty and hardships. 

Recently there has been a big change that has taken place in our family. My hubby’s parents, who used to live 15 minutes from us, now live about 12 hours away. And I am sure for some of you there would be rejoicing at the news of your in-laws moving further away but not me. I have been blessed with some amazing in-laws. Don’t get me wrong they are nutty and have driven me crazy at times, but I love them and they love me. 

Has anyone else noticed how hard it is to parent your child outside of your home? I am not just speaking in terms of correcting behaviors but just the moment by moment messes a toddler brings into the world. I am fully aware that our daughter is going to be exploring the world through play and that means it will be messy. I also grasp that she will be testing every boundary known to man and trying to assert her authority. A very normal stage of development and one that she should be going through. However, all of my understanding and grace seems to wear really thin when she exerts these traits outside of our home. 

Recently I attended a wives workshop. And I have to be honest when I was first invited to the event it was presented as a women’s conference, which in my mind is very different from a wives workshop. When I got the official invitation, I was less than impressed. A workshop to me spells out work which is in the dang title. I have enough work to do at the moment between spending time with the Lord, keeping Allie alive, trying to be a decent wife to my hubby, keeping up with our home, meals on the table, and somewhere in the midst of all that shower. Taking time away from my family to be given a lecture on what I am doing wrong and a list of what I should be doing right was not the fun outing I had thought it was going to be. 

Since the last few weeks have been on the heavier emotional side, let’s take a pause and laugh a bit together. This week I won’t be sharing about just a moment but moments that are hilarious and brought about by our feral toddler. Moments that I didn’t think I would be sharing this early into the toddler game. I hope this brings you enough laughter to feel refreshed but not enough that you need to change your britches. 

I’m not sure if I have shared this or not, but I am a person who desperately wants to understand. I have been like this for as long as I can remember. I’ve always wanted to know the why behind the what. However, I have come to realize through faith and therapy there are moments, people, and behaviors that I will never be able to understand no matter how hard I try. In those instances, it is a matter of trusting the Lord, over what I can understand, and letting God’s Spirit fill me with a peace that surpasses my understanding, to guard my heart and mind. I don’t think it was a coincidence that my life verse is Proverbs 3:5-6

One of my favorite parts of the day is our nighttime routine. And no it’s not because that means our wild and sometimes feral toddler is going to bed, though there are days it is a great bonus. I love all the steps within our routine. From us sitting down together to eat dinner and then hearing the mixture of water splashing with laughter as my hubby gives our baby girl a bath. To getting her into her jammies and picking out a book for us to read with her. To the sounds of her having her nighttime bottle. To brushing her teeth and the way she likes to lean her head on my shoulder as we do so. Onto our snuggles as we say our prayers, singing a lullaby and then laying her into her crib.

I will never forget the first scratch that Allie got. It was a small scratch, maybe a quarter of an inch long that went across the center of her forehead. I was trying to wipe milk or a crumb from my snack off her head and in the process my nail scratched her. I instantly began to panic. We had a visit to the pediatrician the next day and my mind was racing with thoughts of the pediatrician seeing Allie’s forehead and then looking at me with their finger raised, chastising me for what an awful mother I was. And asking me questions like…

Right before my hubby and I decided to not prevent ourselves from getting pregnant my grandma, Mimi, died. She lost her war against cancer, though she won many battles along the way, the last battle she was too tired to fight, so God called her home. I struggled with her death and with God telling me it was time for her to go home, because I wasn’t ready. To be fair, there wouldn’t have been a time that I would have been ready. I would have kept my Mimi here with me as long as possible, but going home to heaven, to no longer be in pain or having to continue fighting against cancer was what was best for her and was not about me. And though it has been a few years since she passed, I still miss her like crazy and have the urge to call her while driving home from the grocery store. 

The other night I woke up around 1-2 in the morning and I could not go back to sleep to save my life. I doomed scrolled on my phone for a little over an hour before I decided to get up, grab my book and go read on the couch. As I was sitting in our dimly lit living room I began to read and the chapter was all about mom’s not having to do it all. I got only a couple of pages into the chapter before I put down the book and just began to cry. Sitting alone in my living room in the early morning hours, I just ugly cried. I cried because in that moment I felt invisible and like I was fading away. I felt like all I was good for within my home were the tasks I completed each day and nothing more. I felt like if my family were to wake up in the morning the only reason they would notice I was gone would be due to the coffee not brewed and Allie’s cup of milk unpoured. So I sat there and I cried and prayed. I knew deep down what I was feeling wasn’t true but I just didn’t have the energy to fight the way I was feeling. 

I have a little confession to make… I have been very hesitant and resistant to making any new mom friends since having Allie. Between postpartum and trying to figure out who I am now that I am a mom, I just didn’t have any desire to try and be social. I already have a really great circle of friends. Why would I need more? Plus making friends as an adult is hard enough, without having to attend to the needs of a new baby or chasing after a toddler. Not to mention the thought of trying to connect with another mom, made my anxiety go sky high and had my brain kicking out a ton of weighted questions like…

The other morning my hubby got to witness what happens to me when I hear our daughter cry. He watched how quickly and immediately I woke up at the sound of her cries and it amazed him because I am the woman that can sleep through the blaring of my alarm. I can’t count the number of times my hubby has turned off my phone because the alarm is doing nothing to wake me. But the second I hear our daughter, I am up and out of bed. Th is of course is not how my hubby wakes up to the cries from our daughter, he has a more relaxed pace about it. He will check the monitor to see if she is trying to resettle and if she is, lay back down, waiting for her next cry to check again. And only when he is sure that she is really awake will he get up, use the bathroom, go start warming her bottle, and then get her from her crib. I have to be honest, this routine drove me crazy and still does on occasion.