Nine Months

It was summer when we planted you. 
In a stolen afternoon or a rare and coveted night.
I don't know which.
I can only be sure that it was the kind of happening 
that comes and goes in married life 
without fanfare.
The kind that you don’t recognize at the time as extraordinary.

But a few weeks later, as the leaves turned
crimson and gold but I did not bleed, I knew.
You were there.
And your brother learned to crawl and still clutched at my breast
and my time for recovery turned back into the first trimester.

I was angry.
At your father who loved you already and who trusted God so easily.
I was angry at God for the load He found me capable of bearing.
I did not feel capable.
So I asked Him to help me be.
And we grew.

And when the ice snapped the branches and Christmas
sat packed in cardboard boxes on the kitchen floor,
I felt you stir for the first time.
And they told me you would be my fourth son.
And then you were real.

Daffodils sprouted in a warm week in February.
Then hung their yellow heads after a late March freeze.
And my excitement waxed and waned like the moon,
a bright shining beacon one night and then swallowed by darkness the next.
I was afraid.
You see, there isn’t much left of a mother after everyone has had their share.
And the piece I had, I wanted to keep,
to put my name on it and place it on a high, safe shelf,
out of reach of tiny, grasping hands.
I was afraid to give up the assurance that there would always be enough
of me.

But the fear is melting now.
The days are longer and the new life of spring
is exploding in and around me.
April has brought warmth at last.
And you are running out of space.
You are healthy.
I feel your bones and their strength pressing from the inside
against my skin.
I feel the rhythmic rumblings of your hiccups deep inside my hips.
I dream of the infinite possibility of you.
Of how you will laugh
and who you will be.
Of the change you will affect on this world as you have in my heart.

I have fallen in love with you. Later than I would have liked.
But hard and deep just the same.
And I realize now that the piece left of me is just the right size
for one more small boy.
And it has had your name
on it all along.
Ezra. It means Help.
and Jude. Which means praise.
I will see you soon.

Repeat after me.

I am a good mom. Say it. Out loud. Unless you aren't a mom, because that would just be a little weird. 

But if you are a mom, if you are trying, if you know the overwhelming weight of mom guilt and the way it seems to crush you hard and mean within hours of birthing your first child, then please, repeat after me. 

I AM A GOOD MOM. 

This afternoon during Toby's nap, I fell asleep where I sat on the couch. My half eaten bowl of lunch grew cold beside me as I slept not only past the time my kids get out of school, but ten minutes past, then fifteen, then twenty. And when I woke, looked bleary eyed at my phone and realized my mistake, I jumped up with a speed and ferocity that pregnant bodies are not fit to handle. 

I made it to the school thirty minutes after the bell rang. and the pulled muscle in my groin (a muscle, I might add, I had no knowledge of having before this afternoon) made every step of the Ultimate-Mom-Walk-Of-Shame that much more excruciating. 

They were in the office, sitting by the window and chatting animatedly with the school secretary. Through my apologizing and choking back a hormonal breakdown, the secretary looked at me and said "It happens to the best of us."

And she smiled. And she waved at the boys as we walked out into the rainy afternoon. 

Here's the thing. She's right. But nobody posts a Facebook status that says "Hey! I forgot my kids at school today because I was snoring on the couch next to three loads of laundry I hadn't put away and a bowl of nutrient packed Kraft Mac and Cheese." Nobody takes a moment as they hobble up to an elementary school with a sprained crotch to snap an instagram photo of their sons looking out the office window making the "I Love You" sign with their hands. 

I can get 67 likes, 67 little instance of affirmation, for sharing some great, noteworthy moment in my life. And man, it feels good.  It feels like 67 people saying to me "You are a good mom. You are doing a good job."

So, of course, I share the good stuff. The funny stuff. I share photos without a mess in the background, I share moments when my kids' cleverness is impressive or my husband does some awesome-husband-who-digs-his-wife thing. I share snapshots from the trip to the zoo and the time we made dough ornaments and of my baby trying avacado for the first time. I let you see clips of our mornings where I am under a pile of sons in the bed and of late nights spent on a pallet on the living room floor. I show you what I am proud, as a wife and a mother, to have given my family.

But I need to tell you. That's not my whole life. 

Sometimes we have cereal for dinner. And sometimes the laundry sits in the washing machine so long it has to be washed again to get the mildew smell off. And I didn't take a single photo on Christmas morning because I just forgot. And speaking of Christmas, our elf on the shelf had multiple mornings of amnesia where he completely forgot to move. And today Jackson and Asher were the last kids to get picked up at school. 

It happens to the best of us. 

Because let me tell you what will happen if you get this wrong.  One afternoon, you will walk into an empty school parking lot with your kids thirty minutes after the bell rang and the realization will hit you that you spent the entire rushed drive to the school worrying more about what the office lady was thinking about you than what your kids were feeling. And that, my friends, is when you really feel like a crappy mom.

I want us to rewire the way we think about the standard of motherhood.

 I want us to understand that every blogger we follow, and every old high school friend who actually seems to DO the things they pin on pinterest, and every fabulous woman that seems to have it all together is actually just a real person who occasionally screws up too. 

We are not good mothers because of the things we do. We are good mothers because we love our children fiercely. Because we want to teach them and lead them onto the right path towards a meaningful life. We are good mothers because we try our hardest.

We are good mothers because we can teach our babies about forgiveness by earnestly asking for it when we fail them.

And we are good women because we can own our imperfections and use them to encourage other women to really be good moms and not just moms that do a lot of good things. 

So put your phone down. Love your children in some way that is just for them and let how much they like it be enough affirmation to want to do it again. 

Let people know when you fail because you might spare them some shame in the future.

Encourage other moms gently and remember your own ineptitudes when you are having a hard time giving grace.
Realize that even when you are late, your children are still happy to see you.
Forgive yourself.

And repeat after me.

I am a good mom. 

Ring it in.

When I get particularly excited, I've always had this twitch about me. My hands do this odd spasm and something deep inside of me just starts to shake. It's a little weird, I know, but I also like to think that maybe it's endearing. Maybe?
Anyway, I just ordered 21 packets of seeds from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds (www.rareseeds.com). And I am finding typing this post slightly difficult do to the fact that I'd really like to just break into a my-first-garden song and dance.

You see, I've never been one much for resolutions. Sure, it's a nice thought that we could start a new year and have that extra something to become an instantly better, thinner, more disciplined version of ourselves. But the truth is, we are no more likely to succeed at that this week than we were last week when we were eating gross amounts of Christmas cookies and Grandma's fudge. But fear not. I am not a total New Year pessimist. Instead of resolutions, I start the new year with a list of things I'd like to be and accomplish in the coming year. Sure, that sounds a lot like a resolution but hear me out.

I don't think these things will happen automatically and that some great change will occur in me as a new calender year begins. If I fall short in my attempts to be the kind of person I want to be and to do the kind of things I want to do, and make no mistake I will fall short, I can wake up the following morning and simply get back at my to-do list. Because when you follow my God you can rest assured that there really are no failed resolutions, only parts of us that are still a work in progress.

The coming 365 days are such an inspiring thing to look forward to! Much like a blank canvas, they could hold any mix of joy and sadness, possibility, trials, and lessons. I think of 1 Thessalonians 16-18. Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.

Start painting your canvas this year with the highest of hopes. Just know, that your resolve to be better and do better is failed and imperfect from the start. And be emboldened to try anyway and try again and again because underneath everything you may paint lies the canvas itself, the foundation that we can have an eternal joy in Jesus no matter the circumstances that may be with us that day.

Here's what I hope to see in 2013.
I will have a baby. Of that I'm sure, but I am hoping for another natural birth and I'm hoping for a successful breastfeeding relationship.
I would like to get back to doing things the more natural way: namely our diets but also getting back to cloth diapers 100% of the time, making cleaning products etc.
Which brings me to the point I started out on during this post, I want to garden! And will be doing so with my lovely seed packets I'm so excited to have ordered. (More on that another day)
I want to take more photos.
I want to be a better blogger.
And most importantly, I want to strive everyday, with the help of God, to be the kind of woman who is described in Proverbs 31. Oh, I'll fail. Comically. But I will continue to try.

This year.

Today we are enjoying the last day of 2012. It has been a good year. This year gave us our Tobias, who has knit our family together is such a beautiful and natural way. His smile is contagious and as he nears his 10 month mark, he is learning to love making people laugh.
This year we grew into our church family in an inseparable way. We have come to love these people we are doing life with and when I open my prayer journal at night, they are always at the height of my thanks to God. We are so rich in friends.
This year we had muddled sadnesses and death even, and it has taught me to trust in Him more. And I have learned that although He is not always fair, He is good and just and loving. 

This year we learned our family would grow again. And I have dealt with the overwhelming reality of a belly growing alongside a baby boy. I am in my 20th week of pregnancy now and I am thankful that God finds me such a capable mother. I'm not always so sure myself.
This year we have learned what a hard season of marriage feels like and we are ever learning how to love like the book of Corinthians tells us to. It really is the only way.
This has been a good year. I can only hope that 2013 will be the same.

Oy.
Let's just pretend I haven't been mysteriously absent for an obscene amount of time.


I am currently sitting in the computer lab at Pulaski Technical College, where I am now enrolled as a returning freshman.  Long story short, I knew everything when I was 18 and decided college (and the full ride scholarship I'd been awarded) wasn't so important after all.  Thanks to this decision, I have my beautiful sons Jackson and Asher.  I was 19 and 21 years old giving birth to them and they are two of the greatest things I've ever done. But an education is important, so Jeremiah and I agreed we would make the sacrifice of my time and I would go back to school. A little older and a lot wiser, I'm giving this another go and really loving it.

It's a bit of a challenge to go from primarily being a stay at home mom for 6 years to having a schedule. Deadlines are a good thing for a procrastinator and I'm hoping that my life, as a whole, will benefit from this new responsibility.
And I'm also hoping that setting goals for blog posts and actually reaching them won't be so difficult now that I'm getting used to meeting time goals in other aspects of life.

We will see. Off to class.

Casting calls

 Yes, those are my children. But that isn't what this post is about.  I just wanted to share the photo.

I'm starting to plan some casting calls for rebuilding my portfolio.  There will be more info available on my facebook page. I have a few loose ends to tie up so I'm planning on starting the first casting calls around August 1.  I'll be looking for specifics such as a set of sisters, a senior boy, a pregnant woman, an engaged couple, a couple that's been married for 20 years, etc.  This will be a good opportunity for people to get free and discounted prints and no session fee as I style their sessions and bring some of my ideas to life. Fun times all around.

In other news, I'm off work entirely for the next few weeks.  Time to do some serious damage to the kid's list of things to do this summer.  Hopefully I will be able to find the time to be a better blogger as well. Thanks for sticking around!

Create.

Hebrews 12:1- Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crown of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially  the sin that so easily trips us up.  And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.


I completed my interview yesterday to start working a volunteer position on my church's (ThatChurch.com, check it out) creative team.

I'm nervous.

They are my friends, my church family. I love them. I am inspired by them. I'm creative. It's a good match.

But I'm still nervous.  I'm really trying to push forward into photography in the way I know God wants me to.    I feel like the obstacles and setbacks I've faced are as much as a testament to the fact that I should be doing this as my passion is.  Isn't that how it always works?  God sends you down a path to do the work He has for you so Satan throws roadblocks in the way and piles weights up on your back.

I have been wrong to live in fear of the next setback, wrong to be discouraged when I know I have been commissioned by my almighty God.   James 4:17 says "It is a sin to know what you ought to do and not it."  So let me to confess to you all, so that perhaps I will face accountability instead of turning in fear.  God has made it clear in which way I am to serve Him....with my camera and the gift to create.  I am riddled with shortcomings such as procrastination.  I question my use to Him and let that hinder my productivity. But ultimately, I am clear on one thing.  Doing nothing, when I know I should be doing something, is not an option.