tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87656198602214742712024-03-05T17:49:59.925-08:00the anxious motherProceed without caution.The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comBlogger115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-79071513870595337222014-05-11T19:44:00.001-07:002014-05-11T20:56:21.657-07:00Mother's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Being a mommy is the hardest, most frustratingly beautiful thing I will ever do with my life. It's about knowing my shortcomings, knowing theirs too, and loving one another despite those things. To all of the ladies who are mommies, who miss a mom, who are craving motherhood... I hope you feel loved and know that being real is a million times more beautiful than being perfect. So embrace those ponytails, long nights, dirty feet, and those hard days filled with tears or empty arms like you mean it. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: inherit;">I know I will never be this loved again at any other point in my life. My children love me in a way that I can only imagine God loves me. They see my faults, they see when I'm weak, and nothing could talk them out of still loving me completely. However, my children's love is different than God's because one day, it will turn into a choice. One day, it will be conditional. My son and daughter will assess what we've shared and get to decide if a true and honest love still exists between us. In order for that to happen, I must love them in a way that teaches them to love. I must protect their hearts so they stay soft. I must convince them that there's enough love in the world to keep going, even when the uglier, desperate times visit. I must point them in a direction that keeps them believing that they don't have to ever be alone. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: inherit;"><i>My</i> purpose is turn <i>their</i> purpose into loving God and other people. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: inherit;">But, raising these babies day to day, minute to minute is hurried, and impatient, and thoughtless sometimes. I forget about Him, them, or what I'm trying to do with both of those things. I focus on where we need to be, what I need to accomplish, and all of the things that are waiting on me. But the real deal is, they are waiting because they can. My babies can't. Their childhood is today. Their hearts are open today. They crave me and want me to be their Mommy this very minute. I am in charge of those things and how they will translate the messages I send, the words I speak, and the real, real love I give. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: inherit;">Today, and every day after that, I must slow down, be intentional, invite God into the job of parenting, remember to show grace just as I've been shown, and speak and love tenderly, for they are small and could break easily.</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: inherit;">Regan and Tyler- My greatest moments are because of you. You are desperately, unconditionally loved today and every day that will ever follow. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Happy Mother's Day... </span><br />
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The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-49577698923977962592014-03-04T06:42:00.001-08:002014-03-04T06:56:09.538-08:00I see you.Yesterday, I cleaned out my refrigerator. As I was cleaning, I wrestled with the idea that no one, absolutely not another soul, would notice my work. I began thinking about how many of my efforts seemed this way. Often times, no one sees what I do throughout the day. There are no pats on the back, no medals, not even a thank you. I have always assumed that<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> my efforts seem to go unnoticed, until my heart realized that He sees them. He sees me working on speech therapy with my son, He sees me organize the craft bins so the kids can find their glue sticks when it's time to create, He sees me sweep up crumbs that will only reappear an hour later, and He sees me clean the refrigerator. He cares about these tasks. and He wants me to care about these (seemingly monotonous) tasks because they all add up to my ministry: making a home and raising a family. </span><div><div>He whispers to the mama who folds laundry late at night, I see you. </div><div>He whispers to the mama who rocks her baby in the early morning, I see you. </div><div>He whispers to the mama who spends hours waiting in pick up lines, cheering on the sidelines, and mopping up milk, I see you. </div><div>And you know what mamas? I see you too. I see you. I see you in me. I see you in my friends. I see that sometimes you wonder how you got here. I see you practicing spelling words, listening to slow and steady piano keys, and packing lunches. But more importantly, the MOST important, is the fact that He sees you. He wants you to know that you aren't alone. He wants you to feel that your work is beautiful. He wants you to know that the time you spend worrying if their coats were warm enough at recess, worrying when you leave them so that you can provide even though it hurts, worrying what day the school pictures are<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> on, worrying if you've taught them enough about compassion, and worrying about the refrigerator is not wasted. He understands you. He knows your worried heart. He wants you to know that we are moved as mamas to do these things because they DO matter. They add up to honoring Him in a way that says thank you. We worry and do and cheer and clean and practice and wait as a thank you. We say thank you for the babies or the man or the home and this life by taking care of the tasks that would otherwise go undone, unnoticed, and unappreciated. He sees you, all of you... And so do I. I know you worry and work and love in a way that hurts. So, today, as you carry on, know that He and I... We feel you. We know it's sometimes no fun, not very glamorous, and exhaustingly lonely, but so, so worth it. He is honored in your work. He understands. And so do I......You didn't think I was NOT going to show you the fridge right? Now where's my medal? :)</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYTaJ5SnklLatWmSRmwQaUhgAD2ERtbXGhhiScrEgqsl1dNSCBL9WJ11-7FOF_mjK0kwrRcZNVI4FnV4vWwwd7EVBNR99H5aVODoa7HPfsdJHbFnTTnpNzRnu7JBzC6V8Sj-tObHk1e0/s640/blogger-image--789391539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYTaJ5SnklLatWmSRmwQaUhgAD2ERtbXGhhiScrEgqsl1dNSCBL9WJ11-7FOF_mjK0kwrRcZNVI4FnV4vWwwd7EVBNR99H5aVODoa7HPfsdJHbFnTTnpNzRnu7JBzC6V8Sj-tObHk1e0/s640/blogger-image--789391539.jpg"></a></div> </div></div>The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-84859155685932557292014-01-09T08:24:00.002-08:002014-01-09T08:27:38.646-08:00Snow and desperation.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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Perhaps you've heard about the "Polar Vortex"..."Blizzard of 2014"....or we can just call it what it really is... "Giant Crap-Ton of Snow that trapped us in the house for a zillion days." It really was like nothing I've seen. I hope the kids remember the 13 inches of snow and negative 40 temperatures that forced us to slow down and be together. The storm gave us some wonderful memories together. </div>
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As the days wore on, we watched movies, played with new Christmas toys, and certainly loved being in the snow with friends. That is, until we officially went bat- sh!t crazy. We did some of the dumbest, most desperate things ever, proving we needed out. </div>
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Case in point....</div>
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"Hey, Tyler. I need you to feed the cat. There's a measuring cup in the cat food. Just fill it up, and put it in her dish."</div>
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And that's EXACTLY what he did. </div>
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I tried to clean behind and under my range yesterday. Check! Nice and clean... Only problem was that honker would NOT go back in. Once again, my antics had to remain unsolved until Mike got home. </div>
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In a desperate attempt to actually use my brain, Regan and I took up sewing with her new machine. (I made that bracelet which made me feel like Einstein Stewart.) </div>
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We painted snow. I mean, who does that? Here kids, I saw this on Pinterest. Looks fun, right?!? Blank stare... It took some convincing.<br />
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We tried to throw boiling water in the air to make snow. Instead, it looked like we killed someone because a) It didn't work and b) I decided to add food coloring to make it "extra cool." </div>
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We made snow ice cream because nothing screams "I'm having a blast" like eating a bunch of pollution. </div>
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We pretended to buy a bunch of fake groceries because we couldn't go to the real store. </div>
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Today we are venturing out with a bunch of other desperate and weird moms/kids to go to Chuck E Cheese for a play date so that we can all roll around in some strep throat and listen to a mouse sing "Put a Ring on It." This actually sounds fun, so I KNOW I've officially lost it. </div>
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The moral of the stir crazy story is "snow storms that cancel school for 4+days after being on break for 2 weeks can make you both thankful and a little weird. </div>
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The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-18225563555251655992013-11-26T05:48:00.003-08:002013-11-26T06:30:26.475-08:00You've been called.I know today is a bad day to ask for money. People work hard for it, and now is the time of year that we feel pulled in a million directions to spend and buy and donate. But, you guys, I need your help. Well, it's actually for a friend. You see, I chatted with this guy online last night and sensed a need. A need I couldn't meet alone. He was too proud at first. He wouldn't give me an inch, but because I would not let it go, he finally, hesitantly clued me in. He currently owns no items. No clothing. Nothing. The word "nothing" makes me uncomfortable, and I won't allow it. <br />
He is a Christian. He has made a series of bad choices, but I think this could be any one of us. He is now sober, a Believer, and ready. However, after a long, honest conversation, he explained to me he feels trapped. He explained that everything he owned was in a storage unit, and now it's gone. He then stated,"It's pretty hard to do good things when you don't look the part." This is his truth, which means it is all of our truth. You see, this guy belongs to us. God created him the same way he did each of us. So we belong to him (our Earthly brother), just as we belong to Him (our Heavenly Father.). He is ours, and we are now his.We are in this together, and we are being called to help. <br />
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Now is our time. We can change this person's life so that he can begin to change his own life. We might not be able to fix every problem for every one<i>,</i> but we are capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for. We absolutely can't allow the fact that we can’t do it all to keep us from doing something. Each and everyone of us has the power, the resources, and the capabilities to change a life right now. Here's your chance to live outside of yourself. I need you today, and so does he. With every single day we're given, and every word we utter, and every move we make or choose NOT to make- we are changing the world for better or worse. When we decide one day (today) to make a move of love, compassion, and a move outside of ourselves, we change what we know to be true. This life is not about me, or mine, it's about we and ours. When we move outside of ourselves and start touching others, we change our course of life... our way of thinking. We can inspire others to live in a way that blesses others. We can finally feel connected, encouraged, and moved to do more. When we decide today is the day to prove to other's that they deserve a chance.... we become the people we’ve always wanted to become, and we begin to live the way we’ve always wanted to live. We can show our children what it looks like to give, to rise up to the calling we've always known about. We can't imagine the power we've been given but rarely use. It's just so big and strong and can be used to show others that love wins. <br />
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Today I ask for your help. It will change a person's life which could end up changing your life. I need you to take a chance and prove that we can love bigger and better. </div>
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Can you email me at rralstin@hotmail.com and ask for my home address? I will give it to you in exchange for a small donation to show a person he is worthy, he is loved, and that everyone deserves a chance to live better. $5, $10? Every single penny will be spent on clothing and essential items. This is urgent. My prayer is that if you've ever been blessed or wanted to bless another, that you will send a small check today. Do it without hesitation, without judgement, without a second thought other than it will be used for good. <br />
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Let's do this together. Show me whatcha got. </div>
The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-25270966575619701202013-11-21T19:37:00.001-08:002013-11-22T04:11:17.802-08:00Random facts that will captivte and entertain the masses. You've probably seen the "Things You May Not Know About Me" lists going around. Here's mine... because I know you've been waiting. Merp. <br />
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1. Scars totally gross me out. <br />
2. I applied to one college. Only one. It was all or nothing. <br />
3. I was in a sorority at Indiana University. It taught me a lot about girls which is weird since I am one. <br />
4. I really don't like dolphin memorabilia- tattoos, t shirts, etc. <br />
5. I don't like dogs, especially little ones that lick and jump. <br />
6. I've never broken any bones besides my toes. I've broken six or seven of those though. <br />
7. I HATE being pregnant. <br />
8. If you snore while I'm trying to sleep, I want to punch your throat. <br />
9. I am super impatient. <br />
10. I failed skipping in Kindergarten. <br />
11. I am a terrible speller. <br />
12. I hate the smell of pee and ketchup. <br />
13. I was a junior high school English teacher for five years and can barely remember any of it. <br />
14. I never know what gifts to buy for people. <br />
15. I worked at Wet Seal in high school. <br />
16. I swear I've seen a UFO before. I was with my mom. She saw it too. (I know you don't believe me.)<br />
17. I love Rebel Wilson. <br />
18. I never feel organized. Or on time. Or like I'm doing enough. <br />
19. I only drink beer when I'm hot, at a a sporting event, or when I'm eating pizza, wings, or nachos. <br />
20. My fingers are super crooked.<br />
21. There isn't ONE SINGLE SONG I know all the words to. <br />
22. I go to sleep really late. <br />
23. I would always rather go out to eat versus cooking. <br />
24. Proper names for things weird me out. Calling a butt a behind, a shirt a blouse, a burp a belch, etc makes me feel uncomfortable. <br />
25. I can be super awkward and talk too much when I feel like someone isn't having fun. <br />
26. I never take my contacts out. <br />
27. I have shopped on Black Friday for the past 20 years. <br />
28. I had foot surgery eight years ago and still can't feel my second toe. <br />
29. I know nothing about astrology and plan to keep it that way. When someone asks me about my sign or horoscope, I immediately know we don't have much in common. <br />
30. I firmly believe Hot Box pizza has the best ranch dressing in the world. <br />
31. When I was 16, I was riding in a car with my friend during a monsoon. Her car was swept completely underwater with both of us in it. We lived. <br />
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<br />The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-22335837884367855832013-11-01T19:30:00.001-07:002013-11-21T17:41:31.409-08:00Happy Halloween.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh86fjzvVOANtVvyge5SmVWLgpIJcq2tG2HoRxHG_UhjFaAH_nxE6ZufqGtajRWyFxPs6p7aA7Zi2qMTMUKTQ6uqifUneCDMojwCDA20ReT-shG1G4k-_Gzur7Qqr1h9gg9EEKFcVAzyEY/s640/blogger-image-1053133791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh86fjzvVOANtVvyge5SmVWLgpIJcq2tG2HoRxHG_UhjFaAH_nxE6ZufqGtajRWyFxPs6p7aA7Zi2qMTMUKTQ6uqifUneCDMojwCDA20ReT-shG1G4k-_Gzur7Qqr1h9gg9EEKFcVAzyEY/s320/blogger-image-1053133791.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div>
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These are our people day in and day out. On Halloween, for four years now, these are our Halloween people too. We've got a pretty perfect thing going. </div>
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This year was extra special because we trick or treated in November! Thanks Mother Nature for that!<br />
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Hey look! It's matching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and their embarrassing parents with matching hats because they've all but given up on trying to be stylish! Cute!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdjMQmYLE93lH_9KUxpNQDaLK1FFCSsuhwxLkix9rgHaokkSsxX4aJ9KO28eDv7H_Q7Y15wvoGKqsQwkl3ZzszkvLUjl7SS_n39k6BnZh_kMNJUNCzSePD685tL27B55es3ViM8-Y8QcQ/s640/blogger-image--659108816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdjMQmYLE93lH_9KUxpNQDaLK1FFCSsuhwxLkix9rgHaokkSsxX4aJ9KO28eDv7H_Q7Y15wvoGKqsQwkl3ZzszkvLUjl7SS_n39k6BnZh_kMNJUNCzSePD685tL27B55es3ViM8-Y8QcQ/s640/blogger-image--659108816.jpg" /></a></div>
These kids will grow up with the most awesome memories of Halloween. They'll tell about the party at GG's house, and the scary house at the end of the street, and the amazing neighborhood they raced around, and how all of the neighbors had little bonfires and passed out awesome<br />
candy, and how we were always, always together. Tradition wins.<br />
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Being together day after day, year after year wins. </div>
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Sure, Regan cried because her "left cheek got too cold," Tyler wouldn't wear his mask because it kept pulling his lip so drool was getting in it, both of Nicholas' boots were lost, and I took off too fast with Ryan and Mike on the back of the truck and about broke their legs. I mean, has there ever really been a holiday without a few mishaps? What's wonderful is that the people you love let you be human. Even on Halloween.<br />
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Another night of family, and babies, and a borrowed neighborhood full of love has been written as a part of our story.<br />
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The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-4473148415805653052013-10-28T18:27:00.002-07:002013-10-28T18:35:32.746-07:00Project<br />
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My child has her very first school project due soon. How do I have a child old enough, wise enough, strong enough to face these kinds of things? How did we get here? </div>
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She's a perfectionist. I'm learning that this is a very difficult characteristic to parent. Sometimes I just want to scream, "Hurry up already!?!? Just spell the word wrong for all I care. Color outside the lines. Stop crying and asking for white out or erasers or wanting to redo it all. Just make mistakes and quit covering them up!!!!" But, she's just like me. I can't make her not be. She is who she is all on her own, and she's beautiful, and frustrating, and exhausting, and emotional. She works so hard. I just can't believe we're here... Both of us old enough to be working on school projects. My job is to let her do it the way she wants... even if it takes all week, and her job is to remind me that it's not my project, and it will be perfect. </div>
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This really isn't about a school project, even. It's about the girl doing it. She's just so precious. Sometimes I feel bad that she's so grown up for seven. Sometimes I wish she were more carefree, more childlike, more of a free spirit only because I know how hard she is on herself. </div>
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This child who made me a mama also made me the proudest mama. We've grown up together learning how to do these kinds of things. We're learning our roles, not only for school projects, but in the bigger picture that God has designed for us. </div>
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She reminds me to be softer. She reminds me not to rush. She reminds me that my words aren't just mine, and that people are affected by them. She shows me how much good there is in the world, and she looks at me with so much hope. Her eyes tell me she needs me to be tender with her even though she's a force to be reckoned with. She's had to show me more grace than anyone ever has, but she's done it with a heart wide open. I'm pretty sure I'm the hardest project she'll forever work on. I'll never be complete. She's making me better though, and I love her for that. </div>
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The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-43680162581568232302013-10-23T21:18:00.000-07:002013-10-24T07:19:24.046-07:00Fresh highlights and a cheering section.I had a hair appointment tonight. My highlights were grown out three inches, and I had two sad, sad blobs of grown out bangs hanging off the sides of my head like puppy ears. (Why won't they just grow out already?!?!) But, back to my appointment. I didn't go alone. You see, I have some people. My team. My cheering section. They show up whenever I ask them to. So tonight when I asked my friend who is a busy mama with her own full plate to drop what she was doing to just come sit next to me while I got my hair done... well, you better damn well believe that's what she did. She sat there for almost three hours just to be with me. Nothing to gain, no expectations. She just showed up. <br />
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Some may think, "Geez, that's so needy and pathetic. Who needs a friend to go with them for a highlight?" Well, girls, I think the answer is clear. I think sometimes, we all do. We're all the girl who needs a friend by her side here and there. We're all the girl who just doesn't want to do life alone some days. So many times, I think a lot of women LOVE being asked for help. We are naturally born with servant's hearts and encouraging our friends blesses us just as much as it does the other person. (If you don't know who you'd ask to be a part of your cheering section, I would love to help with that. <a href="mailto:rralstin@hotmail.com">email me</a>)<br />
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And you know what? I hope my babes will grow up to learn about both sides of this game we play. I hope they know how to one day ask a friend to come to an appointment with them just because. But more importantly, I hope they will be the friend that goes. I hope they are a part of someone's cheering section. I hope Regan and Tyler show up for a friend and say,"I'm here. You don't owe me a thing. I wanted to do it." <br />
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Can you imagine what this world would look like if we all played both of these roles more often? What if we asked for support in both little and big things AND showed up to cheer each other on... I imagine that would look beautiful. <br />
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<br />The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-41192428617474222352013-10-22T06:34:00.000-07:002013-10-22T06:47:21.245-07:00Mom is the loneliest number.A lot of people would probably describe me as a talker. Lately, it's been in overdrive. I've been talking, and talking, and talking. I've talked to Heather, Suni, Ashley, Amy, and <a href="http://mooshinindy.com/">Casey.</a> These names may not mean a lot to you right now, but they're filling me up. They're telling me the fire God has set inside of me is about to spread. All this talking has led us to one thing: women need one another. <br />
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The days of competive and judgemental motherhood are done. It's weak. It looks ugly, it's isolating to everyone involved, and it certainly doesn't glorify God. A while back, I actually was told by a mama that it wasn't worth her time to have friends. No. God loves community. God loves when we come together to breathe life into one another. I will spend my life showing others (and my children) that people are worth it. God created us to love one another, just the way He loves us.<br />
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We need one another to feel encouraged, uplifted, empowered, and to glorify God. We need one another to create a community of believers who can serve as models of grace and real life-livers.<br />
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So, how do we get there? Well, that's the tricky part, huh? <br />
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-Please, please do NOT tell me to sign up for MOPS. I have done this before and while I do believe there are many beautiful parts of this program, there's just something unnatural for me about driving to a place, signing my kid in and giving him away, and then sitting at an assigned table for an hour to discuss an assigned topic. I KNOW this blesses many, many ladies around the world, but me? I need more grit. Something more authentic. A raw look inside. (I must note: I gained one of my most treasured friends from my MOPS expreience. Hi, Heather!)<br />
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-Do we ask each other out on mom dates? <br />
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-Do we compliment one another's yoga pants, and then go straight in for the kill? How do we bless one another?!? <br />
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-Do we walk around sad places like Monkey Joe's and look for moms with kids similar in our kids ages, and ask them if they like coffee?<br />
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-Do I stop a mom at Target who is obviously struggling and ask her how I can help?<br />
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How do I get inside? How do we get out there and encourage? I absolutely know the need is there. I hear it over and over. Mom is the loneliest number. Sure, we're constantly surrounded by kids, and people, and more people. But, do they KNOW us? Do they touch our hearts? Do they inspire us to be creative, or to go to church, or to love one another better? Probably not? So how do we create these relationships between women to build one another up? So we don't feel so isolated. So defeated. So alone. So inferior. You know, some days, may we even need someone around to celebrate our successes with us! To pray with us! To praise the good in our lives! Life isn't ALL doom and gloom, after all. ;)<br />
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I think what I've come up with so far is that we meet these ladies where they are. We go to their house and just show up. We say, "Here I am. What do you need?" We start small. We work within our circle that God has already blessed us with. We don't need to move mountains. We just need to remember not to take what we already have for granted. Look in front of you. THAT'S how you start, right? Also, we need to plan a party and drink wine together because that encourages us too. <br />
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Lady power and love (some days my lameness even surprises me), <br />
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Rachel<br />
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We're planning. We're praying. We want to hear from you. Could you email me any ideas at <a href="mailto:rralstin@hotmail.com">rralstin@hotmail.com</a>? Heck, if you know me, call me. (You know I love talking on the phone! I really do. So old school.) The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-30134795434538596122013-09-26T10:03:00.002-07:002013-09-26T10:03:33.412-07:00One day.<div>
Dear babies,</div>
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One day you're going to go into your own babies' rooms really late at night to put away some laundry, and you're going to catch a glimpse of a sleeping face. You'll drop the laundry and go straight to that face to memorize it again so that you will never forget that very moment. You'll feel like there's no possible way that God meant for you to have all of this.... You'll think, "Surely this face was meant for someone else, someone more deserving, someone who has a few more things put together because this is bigger and more beautiful than what I was supposed to get." <br />
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And then, you'll do what you always do. You'll promise yourself never to forget the very idea of how incredibly blessed you are, and you'll do your best with what you've been given because you'll swear those babies are better than you could ever be. </div>
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One day you'll know how loved you are tonight because one day you'll love that way too. </div>
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The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-77419958885282697592013-08-09T06:08:00.000-07:002013-08-09T06:08:53.948-07:00From a mama.Last night, I posted on my Facebook wall that we struggled yesterday. It was one of those days that just didn't feel right, it didn't look right, and it ended with tears, early bedtimes and regret. The Facebook post, I believe, touched a few mamas who were feeling overworked, under appreciated, and questioning each and every one of their mama moves that day. I got texts, and private messages, and even a call saying, "I needed to hear that you struggled, because so did I."<br />
It's just so easy to assume we're never doing enough, or the right thing, or that surely we're ruining these precious gifts we've been given and making a mess of it all. The thing of it is that we're not alone, we're actually all together. We're all rocking the screaming baby wishing it would maybe just disappear for a few minutes. We're all reading "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" for the millionth time wishing we were somewhere, anywhere else. We all are covered in spit up, have been wearing the same pants as we were yesterday, and wondering if this is as good as it gets. We feel trapped sometimes because THEY ARE ALWAYS HERE ASKING ME FOR MILK! We feel like we are missing out on something more because surely someone out there has a cleaner house, less laundry, happier kids, more crafts, more important jobs, sexier marriages, and less oily hair. But, it's just not true. We are all the same. We dust, and yell, and lose our patience, and drive to practices, and have oily hair because we love. We love so deep it hurts. God, it hurts. We matter. We're doing a job that no one else in the world could do. Even if it's messy, and ugly, and sad some days, the bigger picture is beautiful. <br />
Mamas, we're all doing our best. All of our "bests" look different. Love isn't about what it looks like, it's about what it feels like so forget about keeping up with your neighbor. Build her up because you never know... behind her smile and put togetherness, she probably feels just the way you do. Love creates that bond, and that's just what we do. We love. <br />
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From one mama to the next, you're doing awesome. Keep it up. And Regan, if one day you read this and wonder if it's okay to feel like you're failing at motherhood some days, or saying "No" too much, or don't have it together as much as you had hoped you would, please know that it just feels that way sometimes to remind you of the other moments that don't feel that way. You're doing it right. I promise. The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-50312440278760891842013-02-27T13:22:00.002-08:002013-02-27T13:22:38.425-08:00Things I heard today.<br />
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"I'm not kidding you, I'm just <em>mocking</em> you."<br />
"Look Sissy, I only have one nipple."<br />
"Can we take a sock bath?"<br />
"Mommy, why do you eat so much?"<br />
"Mommy, do some women shave their face 'cause I think I'm gonna be one of them if they do?"<br />
"Is this yogurt organic?"<br />
"Buddy, we need to have a no fight policy."<br />
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"Mommy, did you do Wacky Wednesday at school when you were young? If not, that's just sad."<br />
"What time is tumbling? I have GOT to cut my fingernails before we go!"<br />
"Can we cuddle and watch toon toons?"<br />
"If you give the magic look, you'll get what you want."<br />
"I'll wash your back, but you have to wash your own butt."<br />
"You hit me right in the peanuts!"<br />
"What do ants eat?"<br />
"Why is Dr. Seuss so scary looking if he's for kids? That's not appropriate."<br />
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The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-5799751009339681862013-02-22T09:00:00.000-08:002013-02-22T09:02:48.836-08:0025,000.I hesitated to write this post. You know....because the people who aren't on my team could think it sounded too showy, or silly, or self-promoting. But, I'm learning to simply ignore the people who aren't on my team. So, I'm going to say it... My blog hit 25,000 visitors last night. Don't get me wrong, I certainly don't think this more important than it is. Some blogs have millions of visitors everyday, and some have more important goals, and many, many people don't even know what a blog is and don't give two rips about them. But, to me, they are important. Mine is important and whether 25,000 hits were accidental or not, it means that a whole lot of times, various people wanted to hear what I had to say. I hope our story and my words have helped encourage, motivate, or connect.<br />
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I used to say I blogged because I was the author of our story, and if it wasn't written down it would begin to fade away. Well, throughout blogging, and living, and learning a few things, I still wholeheartedly believe it's important to keep a record of who you are, what you think about, and what's important to you. Every person, no matter what, has a story to tell. But, my tune has changed about being the author of our story. Our story was written a long, long time ago. I am not the author, I am simply the writer. I want my children to know that our God has our plan. He is our guide. Many times in the past, I've said that I am in charge of creating a beautiful story for my children to someday tell. Damn does it take a lot of pressure off of me to know that I'm not actually in charge of all that. My children's creator will handle that for me. I simply will do my best along the way and write about it as it comes. I will write so that they can look back and know how loved they always were. I will also write so that other's can stop by and take a peek. I think telling your story connects people. It says,"Hey, I'm feeling this way... Anyone else?" I want my words to inspire, not because I 'm anyone to get too excited about, but because I sometimes think my ideas can reflect how God works in me. <br />
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I could go on and on about how much your words of encouragement about my little corner of the Internet have meant. I've been brought to tears when a mama sends a message just to say thanks for the laugh or the encouragement to face the day. I think my favorite message to date said, "I was going to sit around today and yell at my kids, feed them cereal for lunch, and complain about laundry, but you made me feel like I should probably take to them the museum instead." While this text was hilarious, I think there's a very real truth to it. We look to other's (and to Him) for motivation and inspiration. <br />
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I know who I am. I'm just a mom who writes about nothing too big. I'm a mom who loves her kids something fierce. I'm a mom who fails, but tries. I'm a friend, and an aunt, and a wife, and a sister, and a daughter who sometimes fails, but tries. And, I know, these things are no different than all the other ladies who are all of these things too. That just proves that we all have a story worth telling. Mostly, I just want to thank you for listening. The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-35149705233060714102013-02-21T14:25:00.000-08:002013-02-21T14:25:24.705-08:00Just 20 things.1. We're having chicken fajitas for dinner tonight, and I've been thinking about them since breakfast. <br />
2. I have been to more movies in the past few months than I have in the past five years.<br />
3. Regan and I are both completely obsessed with Bruno Mars' new song, "When I Was Your Man." <br />
4. I bought a bottle of B12 vitamins. I'm pretty sure I'd eat staples if they promised energy. <br />
5. At the current rate, my hair is going to be completely grey by July. <br />
6. We have walls in the house now. <br />
7. Regan asked me today why the weather people don't "predict rainbows." I totally think they should. <br />
8. Tyler is very much into break dancing lately. He puts on shows and uses props. <br />
9. My laundry is so out of control. So, so out of control. <br />
10. Regan's foot is a size 12. Tyler's is an 11.5. How in the world?<br />
11. I am feeling very secure with who wants to be a part of my life and who doesn't. <br />
12. I am now pouring my energies, time, and love into the people who deserve them. No one else. <br />
13. I think I want blond hair again. <br />
14. I need to stop drinking Coke. Again. <br />
15. Regan has spring pictures tomorrow. Did you hear that? Spring is coming!!<br />
16. G.G. and I are taking Regan to see the play "Pinkalicious" on Saturday. <br />
17. I need new tennis shoes. And underwear. <br />
18. Both kids start baseball soon. This gives me much joy. I LOVE watching my babies play!<br />
19. Even though they are delicious, I can no longer eat Fiber One bars. Ever again. If you've ever had one, you'll understand why. <br />
20. I just got a call from school. They called a two hour delay for tomorrow which means wine time. So, bye.The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-62168183351541720512013-02-18T07:25:00.001-08:002013-02-18T07:25:37.004-08:00A new kind of love.<br />
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Valentine's Day has come and gone. As always, I hoped to create a day for my babies that was full of surprise, tradition, and magic. I knowingly get carried away and worry that I'm not delivering. In a world of Pinterest and room moms and Lexapro and 5 Hour Energy drinks and MORE, MORE, MORE, I worry that my best isn't enough. Honestly, in my mind and in my heart, I fear that the kids won't feel like I did enough to love, and create memories, or help them learn the lessons they need. It's easy to feel like enough is never enough. But, you guys, I'm realizing after a long, long time, that my kids don't need perfection. Actually, the more I try to make things "just right," the more anxious I am, and the unhappier I am. (Did it really take me more than two minutes to learn this?) And, if you want a happy child, be a happy mom. So, what does a happy mom even look like? <br />
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To me, she looks relaxed and balanced. She isn't sitting at the table by herself with glitter and a hot glue gun trying to make homemade valentine's cards FOR her kids while they are off doing something else. She isn't sitting at the computer or looking at her phone while her kids are playing alone. (GET OFF THE COMPUTER AND PHONE ALREADY!) She speaks to her kids with kindness. She builds her children up by speaking softly, slowly, and with respect. She gives her children time. She is loving and patient. A mom's job isn't to craft, or pin, or make oragami owls, or keep a perfect house, or buy extravagant gifts or clothes, or feed five course vegan meals. It simply is to love. So, this year, we bought Barbie and bug Valentine's Day cards from Target. (The horror!) We didn't make Valentine cupcakes, or any fancy cupid crafts, or buy any new Vanetine shirts. We cut out the extras. <br />
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I showed up at both kid's schools for their parties. I gave them my time. We ate pancakes for lunch and celebrated at Dairy Queen for family date night. And you know what? Those kids loved every damn minute. I'm pretty sure it had a bit to do with the fact that I wasn't scrambling around trying to create my vision of the perfect holiday. I focused more on them than what the day "should" look like. I don't think they were too disappointed. :)<br />
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<br />The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-57794767427599362262013-01-31T07:15:00.003-08:002013-01-31T07:15:31.054-08:00Monster Jam<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Questions and Answers: Monster Jam Edition</div>
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Q: "Mommy, when will the trucks start wreckin'?"</div>
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A: "When the time trials are finished."</div>
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Q: "What are time trials?"<br />
A: "The races at the beginning to see which truck is the fastest."<br />
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Q: "Well, aren't they all fast since they all have monsters in them?"<br />
A: "Yes, but it's fun to see who's the fastest."<br />
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Q: "Mama, why does that man have a kid shirt on?"<br />
A: "It's not a kid shirt, some grown ups just really like "The Gravedigger."<br />
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Q: "Well, why doesn't Daddy have that shirt? Doesn't he like monster trucks?"<br />
A: "Probably not as much as the guy in The Gravedigger t-shirt."<br />
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Q: "Mama, why does that lady have three bellies?"<br />
A: "Those aren't all bellies. BE QUIET!!!!"<br />
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Q: "Can I have a pack of the ($15) cotton candy?"<br />
A: "Sure." (Before I knew that it was $15!!! That answer would have been different had I known.)<br />
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Q: "Why does it smell like pee in here?"<br />
A: "Because the 14 year old sitting right next to us peed his pants, and now it's under my seat."<br />
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Q: "Why is that lady screaming at that truck?"<br />
A: "She must love trucks even more than you."<br />
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Q: "Can we come back every year?<br />
A: "Sure, kid. I'm glad you loved it."The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-4839107719041938342013-01-30T11:02:00.002-08:002013-01-30T11:05:01.715-08:00Time.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I constantly remind myself that I am the author of our story, both literally (as I write this blog) and figuratively (as I help create memories and traditions that will be remembered and passed down). The job of writing, planning, and telling our story is sometimes overwhelming. But, what it offers me is the chance to evaluate how we spend our time, what we value, what we cherish, and what we can do without. Each day is a chance to create a piece of the story that's worth telling. What I've noticed lately is that a lot of extras can be cut from our days. I am finding that easy home days are often much better than busy play days. My babies are still young so all they still really need is for us to read with them, get on the floor and pretend with them, and to show them that simple fun is the best fun. So, suddenly "time" isn't quite as hard to find and more meaningful minutes are being spent. I've been asking, "It this worth my time? Am I willing to trade moments I cherish for this?" If the answer isn't clear, we don't do it. Suddenly, the day turns itself around. I have time to write, and read, and play, and see my family, and plan, and connect with the people who mean the most. Even my snapshots throughout the day are telling a different, slower kind of story. <br />
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I suppose what it all comes down to is this: <br />
How we spend our time shows what we value. <br />
So does who we spend our time with. <br />
Use it wisely.<br />
Pick your people wisely. <br />
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Time this week has been spent on:<br />
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Being adorable and girly.</div>
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Grocery shopping with my three kids.</div>
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Being adorable and girly.</div>
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Loving on babies. </div>
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Being adorable and girly.</div>
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Getting haircuts.</div>
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Writing books for Daddy's upcoming birthday.</div>
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And stepping it up a notch in the house planning...because it's true!! Someday soon, we're actually going to live there! </div>
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As I continue to make my way through the rest of this week, I will remember. This time is mine. I am in charge of it, and no one can take it from me unless I let them. I will protect it, use it wisely, and fill it with goodness. </div>
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The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-15547803423613184132013-01-27T19:09:00.001-08:002013-01-27T19:12:17.460-08:00Thinking about things I like.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Every single time the sun does something spectacular, my kids notice. They'll talk about how God put pink in the sky for Regan and blue in the sky for Tyler. They'll say, "Hey look! The curly clouds are noodles!" or sometimes just stare at it quietly trying to take in all that it has to offer. Regardless of how they react, they always do. Never do I have to point out a beautiful sky. What I love best about this is that they sort of give the sky a giant pat on the back for putting on a show... for doing something extra. They do this with me too. Always when I put a little extra something into the day, they notice, revel in it, and it never goes unnoticed. It feels good for our efforts to be noticed. Those tiny pats on the back (whether you're a mama just trying her best or a big giant lit up sky) feel good. Which makes me wonder how many missed opportunities I've had to notice other's efforts....to say good job, to recognize the show, to give a pat on the back. So this week, my focus will be to look for ways to recognize the efforts being made all around me and say, "You know what? I like that." <br />
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Speaking of things I've been liking lately:<br />
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Watching my babies create something even bigger than what I ever hoped it would be. I grew up without a sibling and always thought having one would be wonderful. My greatest gift to each of my children is the other one. They are in love. I am in love. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Building your own home allows for lots of fun trips.</td></tr>
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Time with friends:<br />
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I've always believed you have to make time for what's important. This month has brought about late night movie dates, dinners, basketball games, basement parties, playdates, antiquing sessions, breakfasts, baby cuddles, and countless hours connecting with friends. You got to make time. That is a truth I am positive of. <br />
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Trying:</div>
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One of my favorite things about both of my children is their willingness to try. Never are they hesitant to try. Never are they embarrassed if they don't make the basket, run the fastest, or kick the hardest. They just keep at it and look over at their mama on the sidelines and wave and </div>
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'"thumbs up" and smile and carry on. I hope they never, ever lose this. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwW_9ndPbQReYEHSEOmaoVF0jWynimYe_PUv4TbUssA-9HIE5L16KzTRUZRyZnHG4uo59uD37QN0W-x24Mj6A2G4Wq51adaY_th9dq27pLiiB8eQnWJQG_1xV2jcTuJwjR_0sEi4707sY/s1600/IMG_9253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwW_9ndPbQReYEHSEOmaoVF0jWynimYe_PUv4TbUssA-9HIE5L16KzTRUZRyZnHG4uo59uD37QN0W-x24Mj6A2G4Wq51adaY_th9dq27pLiiB8eQnWJQG_1xV2jcTuJwjR_0sEi4707sY/s200/IMG_9253.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Regan tried and succeeded in her first public reading performance to Tyler's class.<br />
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Also, the blog is beginning to undergo a few changes. Finally, I'm doing something more with it. More content, better images, new ideas, and a new look are all on the way. I love this place. I can't tell you how much it means to me to tell our story. Everyone has one worth telling. The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-59081300465776587632013-01-23T20:10:00.001-08:002013-01-23T20:15:37.217-08:00Days<br />
To my babies:<br />
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I was scrolling through some pictures tonight.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhburOPnZ-WvKQVmw_HH0tG0URtIVd0q44nOlM7bsA3BcUeLKcutUgKHJm2bpxnZHubZF9gk_8RVPLl1H3tQTVo1-ywqnlyEUo4O47Rhx-RXjaNnsj33pdT0XBD7nqiAEKtRdQmZ2SBdxo/s1600/IMG_7655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhburOPnZ-WvKQVmw_HH0tG0URtIVd0q44nOlM7bsA3BcUeLKcutUgKHJm2bpxnZHubZF9gk_8RVPLl1H3tQTVo1-ywqnlyEUo4O47Rhx-RXjaNnsj33pdT0XBD7nqiAEKtRdQmZ2SBdxo/s200/IMG_7655.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
Taking a little trip down memory lane.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hB50I8-ct67QFhziAxSWS9CPmP61ZP_9IRrRG3K7vAjOXTH7us6hX9VxW-6T1J3V6T-WfI2OKzcxc6A0mStZt0iziWkwuSH7Db3GTwyyGl9lJZUV7iZFvvRnDPAIlROLtYdKFTWcIBc/s1600/IMG_7447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hB50I8-ct67QFhziAxSWS9CPmP61ZP_9IRrRG3K7vAjOXTH7us6hX9VxW-6T1J3V6T-WfI2OKzcxc6A0mStZt0iziWkwuSH7Db3GTwyyGl9lJZUV7iZFvvRnDPAIlROLtYdKFTWcIBc/s320/IMG_7447.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span id="goog_471546075">And I couldn't help but notice all of the quick, casual, seemingly simple pictures of us together.</span><br />
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Just being together, going about our day. </div>
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Running errands, riding in the car, listening to songs on the radio, eating ice cream, doing everyday things.</div>
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Image after image showed me the same thing.</div>
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You are both so little, and young, and perfect, and loved. </div>
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I hope you remember these days. </div>
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While they certainly are not perfect, and your Mommy sometimes gets busy, and impatient, and hurried, <br />
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These will forever be the best days of my life. <br />
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You both love with your whole hearts, and go where I go, and think it's great to ride around town with Mommy.<br />
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You aren't in a hurry to get anywhere.<br />
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You just are who you are, and because of that, teach me more than you will ever know.<br />
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I hope some of this stays with you as you grow older. <br />
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I hope simple days, silly snapshots, and just being together always mean a lot to you.<br />
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Even on the most frazzled, rushed, hardest day, you are still the best part of it. <br />
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My greatest blessing, truly, has been to know you and spend my days with you.<br />
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I have locked these days into my heart.... and hopefully into yours. <br />
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The little moments captured tell a bigger story of true togetherness that could never be paralleled<br />
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And as you grow, always, always know that every day, big or small, is the perfect day to choose happiness, <br />
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To choose to do something bigger than yourself, <br />
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To make time for friends, and faith, and fun, and love. <br />
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Because at the end of that day...well, that's all you really need. <br />
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I've been thinking a lot about how we spend our time. I hope you both know you have the decision to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary. You each have the choice to take hold of your time and turn your 24 hours into something of meaning. Call your friends, make a meal for someone, go exploring, have some fun, see your loved ones, take time to see if anyone needs some help, be a blessing to another, or accomplish something you are proud of. God has a plan for each day of your life, and it is up to you to fulfill His high hopes. Be bigger than you think you can be.. especially be bigger than what others are someday going to tell you you are. Use your time wisely, for it is never guaranteed and can touch someone else in a profound way. But, for now, be mine, and I will be yours. For it is my time to teach you, build you up, and fill you with as much as I can. There are still days I can't even believe you exist. You came from me, and sometimes I wonder if I'm doing a good job (because DANG is it overwhelming to be completely responsible for turning a helpless baby into a productive member of society!) But then, I see you. I am instantly reminded of my purpose. No matter how badly I behave or fail or react, I am good because I am a part of you. You have allowed me a chance to be a part of something wonderful, and maybe (just maybe) we will make it through the days, the nights, the big, and the small remembering how wonderful it was. </div>
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Love always and forever, </div>
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The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-39680537224441047142012-12-16T19:02:00.003-08:002012-12-16T19:24:04.787-08:00More than just a party.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tonight, this room served as a stage. True friendship, loyal ties, and genuine love were the stars of the show. Friends poured one another drinks, grand babies snuggled grandparents, friends and cousins chased and played, forever friends hugged and picked up each other's babies, and everyone felt magic in the air. The magic was contagious, and happy, and had it's own energy. <br />
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But, as love took center stage, I couldn't help but think about the babies that were taken too soon last Friday in Connecticut. Their mamas are deep, deep in grief tonight. Those babies aren't running around with their friends, they won't see their cousins again, they won't decorate their gingerbread houses with their daddies. Their mama's are weeping. It's not fair. There are no words, other than God was there. He's always there. Friday was not part of his plan. He has a beautiful story written for us, but sin gets in the way. God can not get rid of sin or else we'd all be gone. We are all sinners of various degrees. What we can do is remember He is the light to show us to brighter days. Days when the missing babies mama's will wake up and feel just a bit better. But for now, they grieve. And even though we continue to celebrate the season, and throw parties, and decorate our gingerbread houses, we grieve with them. I can not imagine. Parents love our children so much that it's aches. So, as we remember these taken babies, we ache too. A mama's heart loves all children. A daddy's heart does too. So, as I love on my kids, on my friends kids, on my niece and nephews, I hold tighter. <br />
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I do not take my blessings for granted. I am grateful. Some days, I don't even know what to do with it all. My babies are here with me. And, now, it just doesn't seem fair. So, my promise is too breathe them in, hold them tight, and make sure they know they are loved because as we know, each day could be our last. Spread love, show love, and receive love like you mean it. <br />
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I loved tonight. I loved the planning, the decorating, the calling of friends to come help write our story. I can't wait to hear how Regan and Tyler will rememberand retell these nights. This was our third time hosting our "Gingerbread House Party," and it was exactly what we hoped for. <br />
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After the last guests left, we tucked our babies safely in bed. They were happy from a night filled with memories. Not every child went to bed happy tonight. Not every parent was able to tuck their baby in tonight, and for them we pray for God's peace. Only He can comfort in a way that is enough. <br />
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Keep calm and carry on.....The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-4364170296508203052012-12-11T08:57:00.003-08:002012-12-11T09:04:00.579-08:00Who we are, who we were. These days, I'm learning more and more about who I am. And, what's most interesting to me is that even as a married mother of two children, I believe who I am directly ties to who I was. Who I was when I first started making memories (maybe age 5 or 6?), who I was as an unsure 12 year old, who I was throughout high school and college, and who I was throughout my early twenties before I met my husband and was blessed with my babies. <br />
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I often wonder who I would have become had things been different and why I am the person I am today because of the way things were. Would I be who I am today had my parents stayed married? Would I be the wife I am if my own father would have been involved? Would I mother the way I do had my stepfather not walked in and taken over? What kind of friend, church member, spiritual being could I have turned out to be had I focused on becoming those things? Where we were, what we were taught, how the adults in our lives treated us and responded to us surely mold us into who we become. Traditions are passed down, attitudes and priorities are mirrored, and our self worth is guided by the past. However, when we are able to, we also get the chance to decide who we want to be despite these past influences. At some point, we all have to let go of who we were and start deciding who we're going to be. You must take all of the potential, and disappointments, and unfulfilled wishes, as well as the need for care and comfort, traditions, and love you received and decide what you're going to do with it all. You're going to need to take all of the best parts and merge them all the heartbreaking ones, and you're going to rebuild. You will take shelter in the choice to decide how you will proceed. <br />
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I think the best, most astounding case of "who we were" versus "who be are" took place my very first year of teaching middle school. I had a student who had it rough. Home was no fun. It was hard and this kid spent most of his days disappointed in others and protecting himself. One day, we were going about our lesson and enjoying the hustle of middle school life. He raised his hand, so I went over to his desk thinking he had a question on the project we were working on. As I arrived at his desk, he look straight in my eyes , stopped everything, and said, "Your class is the best part of my day." I responded in whatever way I could as to show appreciation but not embarrass this tough guy. But then, his eyes filled up with tears and he proceeded to say that no other adult ever cared. He poured his heart out to me in a way that made me ache. He told me he woke up and got himself ready for school, fed himself breakfast, got himself on the bus, and then came home to an empty home until late. His Dad was gone and his Mom was disconnected and rarely engaged. He told me I was the best hour because I had expectations for him, cared where he was and that he was in class, and encouraged him. That was more than he was used to. At that point we went in the hall, and I swear to you he said, "You know what though? Instead of being like my parents, I'm going to be different." He had learned how not to behave, how not to parent, and how not to disappoint instead of continuing the cycle. He could have easily given up considering no one was really there to care if he did so. He chose at 13 years old to trade in who he was and all of the excuses of what he didn't learn at home, the attention and care he missed out on, and the time he missed creating real, meaningful relationships for a life of new found independence and the courage to create his own truth. He knew he was worth it, I knew he was worth it, and all it took was the courage to proceed with the decison to be better.<br />
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Now, as I journey through ways to create the story of "who we were" so that "who we become" and "who we are" turns out fairly well, I focus on traditions, togehterness, and a sense of magic. Never do I want my children to look back at who they were and feel disappointed. Never do I want them to feel like the "what ifs" would make a better story than the truth. Because the truth is, I do everything I can to make fact better than fiction. I want them to rememeber their stories with a smile. I want them to pass it along with excitement in their voices and to say, "Remember when!?" Sure, there will be some sadness they will look back on. Life will also bring some disappointments. But, when my babies turn into people who are no longer babies, I want them to remember the parts that their mama could control and know I did my very best to help create a beautiful story full of whimsy, adventure, and a sense of fierce loyalty. <br />
<br />The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-41316666824821257322012-11-14T07:13:00.000-08:002012-11-14T14:48:53.918-08:00Thank you and clinging.The journey of motherhood has humbled me and made me a braver, better version of myself.
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Despite the fact that my days consist of little arms wrapped around my legs,
heads peeking into the bathroom robbing me of the privacy and spare minutes I used to enjoy, and all the focus of my
little family moving forward, I feel like I’m the
one with a debt to pay. I’m the one who should be thanking my lucky stars for what we've created. I'm the one who should be reminded to say thank you. <em>I'm</em> the one who should making tiny little love notes and coloring pages to surprise<em> them</em>.<em> I</em> should be begging to play with <em>them</em>. But it gets busy, you know? So busy that my own heart forgets to be thankful and tells me that I'm the one who should be thanked, patted on the back, or deserving recognition. But that's just not the case. I'm turning it around. It's not about me. The entire focus should be shifted. My boy, my girl, and my man are the ones who deserve the honor because it<em> is</em> an honor..... to wipe up their spills, to break up their squabbles, to support their choices and love unconditionally, to read story after story, and to cut the crusts off of sandwiches. If it weren't for these tasks that seem so monotonous, meaningless, and even sometimes annoying, I would be nothing. So, thank you babies for being who you are...demanding, loud, and fussy. Also for being loving, beautiful, kind, and unbelievably amazing. I love you for all that you are, the good and the sometimes not so fun, too. I accept you for all that you are, which is really, really hard to do sometimes. But, God designed little ones, and even spouses, to require a lot. The demanding job of wife and mama isn't supposed to run smoothly and be seamless. It's supposed to feel hard sometimes in order to remind us of how deep we love. So, thank you. It really is my greatest joy for you to be mine. I know that my husband and babies are the greatest tools God has
given me to share the beauty of His Grace. When I choose to be patient, kind, level-headed, and giving, I can show my family, and others, a clear version of who He wants me to be. For that, I am thankful and forever indebted to Him and them. <br />
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Also, I've been trying to help the kids focus on clinging to what matters lately. With this, we started going to church again. (Why'd we ever take even one Sunday off, I'm not too sure?) But, we're back, and it feels amazing. The kids sat with me last week, and as we were leaving, Tyler retold the sermon including every last detail. They get it. They soak it in. I'm learning that when you show them the way, share the Word, and immerse them with Him, they cling to it. They soak it in and believe it. We've also been clinging to one another. After all, when the world seems hard, and mean, and unsettled that's all you have. <br />
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When the world spins, reach for each other. <br />
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In other news, freaking Thanksgiving is in about 5 minutes. Okay, not really, but NEXT Thursday?!?!? So, we've been turning on some Christmas music here and there, made our first Christmas craft, and I've been reeling with fun ideas for the season. <br />
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The kids drew Christmas trees, painted wooden plaques, and then Mod-Podged their trees onto the wood! Voila! <br />
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We also kicked off the season by welcoming Santa to our town. And, really, the entire town was there. My little family and my mom hit up the Hamilton Town Center Holiday Celebration last weekend, and we were met with bands, games of hockey, friends, and a Santa sighting. It was a blast! <br />
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Mom and I also got to take Regan to see a production of Cinderella last weekend. It was absolutely one of those times that I quickly thanked God for a little girl. It was adorable, and sweet, and fun to spend a girl's day celebrating being a girl!<br />
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Keep calm and carry on...</div>
<br />The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-10625707571908773682012-11-10T08:03:00.003-08:002012-11-10T08:19:50.413-08:00Glory or reminder?This week I've been on my game. I've been the Mom I always imagined I could be. Energetic, happy, organized, and scheduled. We've made it to school, play dates, Tot Kwon Do, library play dates, tumbling, open gym, and speech therapy.... on time. I've made muffins, healthy dinners, painted toenails, volunteered for Mystery Reader, attended the grand opening of the new local health food store, and voted in the Presidential election. Also, I've worked out every.single.day. I mean, this is who I've always wanted to be. This is the Mom my kids deserve... But, as I reflect on the greatness of the week, I can't help feel guilty and showy for even beginning to pat myself on the back for my successes. Because you know what? This is what a lot of mama's do every day too. It's not just me. It's every mommy who volunteers, waits, chauffeurs, peels, chops, picks up, drops off, loves deeper than they ever thought they could. It's just what we do. Motherhood is no joke. It requires more of us than we feel like we have. It demands us to push through what we don't always feel like doing. It's hard. Sometimes it's terrible. But, most of the time is it's wonderfully busy, hectic, and the greatest joy of our lives. Moms everywhere are busting their butts. They're working, and planning play dates, and practicing spelling words, and pinning dinners they hope will fuel their families. Moms are doers. Moms push themselves too hard everyday. But, for every week we feel accomplished and triumphant, along comes the "reminder week." The kind of week that "reminds" us that motherhood is bigger than us. The tantrum at Target, the forgotten school function, the missed play date, or the up all night sickness puts us right back in our place. These weeks remind us that we can't do everything, nor do we need to. These weeks are necessary and just as important as the glory weeks. They show us, our kids, and other mama's who are trying to keep up to look for the light among the rubble. Life is an ebb and flow of greatness and despair. Our kids don't need perfection. Our spouses, friends, and families don't require it either. Moms are our own worst critics, and damn do we hold high standards for ourselves. I've even found myself this week wondering still if the kids were fueled, lifted up, and felt truly loved. That's what happens though. We have an "on" week, and we still question if it was enough because surely there was more we could have done, right? Then, the "reminder" week comes along to answer those doubts that yes, we are good enough. Because whether we feel like we're at our best or our worst, love comes naturally. It shines through the crappy dinners, crumpled homework that was thrown away, or the missed opportunity to show our best. The love doesn't stop, and those around us continue to feel it even if we're doing a bad job of showing our best face. I'm learning that lots and lots of people don't expect perfection, or really anything close to it. The "perfect week" only exists once in a great while. It pops up for us to feel gratitude. Real life is all about those reminder weeks that show our babies we push through and continue even though it's hard. We continue to hold our heads high, despite the blips that don't feel so good. We take the good with the bad because both are necessary and both make a difference.<br />
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As the week wraps, and the weekend begins, there is still much to look forward to. Mom and I are taking our girl to a production of Cinderella while Daddy takes my boy fishing. Tonight we are hitting our town's Holiday Celebration Kick-Off. My girl will continue showing off her new found skill of counting by 5's, and my boy will continue putting puzzles together and counting to 10. We will continue trying our best. And, while the fun continues, and I'm sure a reminder week could surely creep up soon, and if it does I will hold on to the love that exists no matter what. <br />
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Images from our week...<br />
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Keep calm, friends.<br />
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*Of course, when I say "Moms" throughout the post, I really do mean Moms AND Dads. Because, you know, Dads are awesome, too!The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-13756828952557537482012-10-30T19:31:00.001-07:002012-10-30T19:36:31.865-07:00It's almost Halloween!Okay, I admit it. I need to work on my blogging consistency. Or, at least take the time to do it so there aren't giant missing holes in the story I'm trying to tell. We have just a little bit of a project going on... In the past TWO months, my husband has turned this:<br />
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Into this:<br />
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The kids and I are so proud of him. It's very stressful and awesome to be the general contractor for your own home. What a ride! I can't wait to get there and start our journey. I plan to fill in more of the story soon. <br />
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We went to Tyler's Fall Party today. It was adorable. He won the game "Pin the Nose on the Pumpkin." (He was number 8. His face lit up so bright when he realize he won... I could have cried right then and there.)<br />
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The kids also decorated cookies, Tyler stained his mouth black with a heaping pile of black sprinkles, they made paper pumpkin crafts, and wore matching Halloween shirts because their mama is cool like that. (Bless their hearts.)<br />
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Hurricane Sandy is underway on the East Coast. We saw news coverage on the storm, and Regan had a lot of questions about what was happening. I explained to her, and she was very concerned about the children in the areas hit hardest. We all are. Big prayers for safety tonight. <br />
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Speaking of tonight, the kids and I went to sister's first school skating party. We had a blast. I had one of those "oh crap I don't have a baby anymore moments" when I had to get Tyler size 12 skates! That's what size Regan wears! I have these moments more and more and more these days. <br />
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The kids absolutely love rollerskating. I loved watching them be so carefree and young out there. Tomorrow is Halloween. Regan is going as a witch, and Tyler HAD a frog costume, but yesterday explained, "I want to be something meaner," so is now dressing as the Bumblebee Transformer.</div>
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Here's my guy practicing being mean at lunch yesterday. Fierce, I tell you. </div>
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There's so much to look forward to, so much to be thankful for....</div>
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Guts and all. <br />
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The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8765619860221474271.post-65178026945282876502012-09-17T09:04:00.001-07:002012-09-17T09:04:14.447-07:00The Color Run<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These are some of the best friends a girl could ask for. We decided to do The Color Run as a team, which really just meant we agreed to the same rules for our "race." The rules were no running or getting anything that would classify as real excersise, get as messy as possible, and take lots of pictures. We exceed our goals to say the least!<br />
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All of the websites promised an awesome time with your friends, so we were so excited to be a part of this.... So excited in fact that we didn't even mind (too much) that we had to wake up at an ungodlyhour to be race ready. </div>
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After we arrived, we all hit up the port-a-pots 'cause we're a classy group, and then got some "before" pics which just meant we were clean. <br />
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And then, the madness began. Each half mile there was a color station. Each station had a ton of volunteers that pelted the runners with a certain color of dyed cornstarch.<br />
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As you moved through the race, you got plastered with more and more colors. <br />
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Here's a glimpse at the first station which was blue. Duh.<br />
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As the race's finish line got closer and closer, the girls and I started rolling on the ground to achieve ultimate color levels, having the volunteers dump it on our heads, and pretty much acted like we hadn't been let out of the house in a few decades. <br />
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The pink station was just a wee bit out of control. <br />
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At the end, there was a huge party of color as eveyone had a reserve packet and threw the color into the air (or at their friend's eyeballs) at the countdown. <br />
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We made it! This was something the girls and I will remember for a long, long time. "Fun" doesn't even describe the time we had. <br />
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After the race, we needed cofee and food BAD. Along the way, we found two poor, unsuspecting shoe salesmen to grab a classic jump picture.This picture is absolutely one of my favorites because it captures the love and fun we have and the carefree, easy friendship that comes so naturally for us.<br />
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None of the girls could do our normal morning coffee routine before the race for fear of poop issues during the event.We walked around downtown colored head to toe and found our beloved Starbucks. <br />
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You can imagine the pride my kids felt when they first saw me. I'm sure they were thinking, "Man, Mom, you are so cool... I hope I can be just like you when I grow up." Okay, maybe they just laughed at me. Whatever. </div>
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<br />The anxious motherhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14308304501117460197noreply@blogger.com0