"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always..."

 Mirabel outside of Savenor's in Cambridge, MA.  May 2011.  And that's Julia Child's writing in the pavement!

This past weekend was a rainy one.  Very refreshing for July.  I can't remember the last time it rained in July, in Austin.  We stayed home on Sunday and spent naptime organizing photos.  I think we have more than 21K now (I've got a great camera on my phone that I love to use!).  
Looking at photos is bittersweet.  Jose used to insist that it was impossible to enjoy a moment if I was hiding behind a camera the whole time.  But now that our kids are growing up (well, Mirabel is 3 and time's flying by to me), he doesn't complain much about it anymore ;).  I don't want to forget these moments.  I've already forgotten how squishy Mirabel's rolly legs used to feel like.  I'm glad I at least have those pictures.  One thing I can't forget: How tough it was being a mom the first time around.
I remember waiting for the day she could walk, somehow thinking it would get easier (Ha! Amateur!).  But Mirabel didn't walk, she ran...and she didn't stop, until she was almost 3.  I savor these last few pre-walking days with Juliette, even though she is quite squirmy in my arms.  At 11 months, she's already trying to take off at the store, even though she doesn't get very far doing the army crawl and the sideways moonwalk.  You should've seen me today at Mirabel's ballet class.  There were a few other pre-walkers there, but Juju was the only one squirming until I put her down, and wiggling across the floor in search of a goldfish crumb or two, or maybe even a leaf.  She's so curious and energetic, but still squishy.  
Before Juliette was born, I managed to finish a scrapbook with a few favorite pictures from Mirabel's first year.  I haven't even started on Juliette's.  2 years ago, I bought a first year picture collage frame for Mirabel.  I tried buying one for Juliette yesterday, at the same store, and they no longer sell it.  I was more sad about it than I should've been.  Mom guilt, anyone?  But looking at those pictures over the weekend made me feel like I'd already lost my first baby and I was beginning to lose my second.  I mentioned it to Jose, and in that same conversation I realized that we're also gaining something more than what we had before.  Little did I know 3 years ago that Mirabel would someday love to dance, would befriend any passer-by with a friendly hello (followed by a hug), would want to watch Beauty and the Beast 3 times in one week, and would love to make robots from empty cartons... These moments are just as priceless as the ones before, and I'm slowly learning to live in and appreciate right now, and not yesterday or tomorrow, whether the babies are squishy or not.

Strawberry picking in Fredericksburg, TX.
As lovely as it all sounds, I've also had the opportunity to witness a few less pleasant traits blossom in this child whose personality is as curly as her ringlets.  Yes, she was the one expressing her frustration quite loudly today in class, as she struggled to put on her tap shoes all by herself.  And I admit, this is another moment that I wish I could press rewind or fast forward.  (Then I realize I don't really want to press fast forward, because if she's like this now, how will she be at 16 ;)?)  I see the little hairs on her head curl even tighter with every impatient scream... and I remember that God has a sense of humor.
Even though it wasn't fun to watch, I didn't take it too personally today.  Because, like everything else, that moment passed.  And I also remembered what I'd read just a few days prior, in a book that has been incredibly encouraging, and has given me a new perspective on moments like these that make up the beauty of motherhood... Drum roll, please.  That book is called: The Mission of Motherhood by Sally Clarkson.
It's like a refreshing slap in the face.  It's honest and so right on.  I think I've highlighted 98.9% of the book so far, but here are my favorite quotes,  the ones that are setting me straight:

"...servant leadership is the model that Jesus gave to us for all areas of our lives, including our roles as mothers.  He reached the minds, hearts and lives of his disciples not just by telling them what to do but by serving them in love--an example the contrasts starkly to the common view of what leadership is all about." (p. 63)
"Choosing to be a servant-mother means willingly giving up myself, my expectations, and my time to the task of mothering--and choosing to believe that doing so is the best use of my time at that moment.  It means that, by faith, I have already made a decision to make myself available in the routine tasks and myriad interruptions of daily life because I believe it is God's will for me to serve my family through them.  Making this choice ahead of time means I will expect problems and needs to arise and be ready to deal with them in peace instead of impatience and resentment." (p. 67)
"...the future is not where real life began.  Each day was God's perfect will for me.  There would be no wasted years of 'just taking care of the needs of my young children.' On the contrary, these years would be the most important of my life." (p. 68)

Juju almost a year ago!  She'll be a year next month!

The A Word

And NO I'm not talking about donkeys.  Or the party they represent!!! My husband says I'm the biggest feminist he's ever met.  And guess what?  I'm also the most vocally pro-life person he's ever met, too.  Everyone's got something they're passionate about.  This my thing, right here, peeps.  Feel free to read or ignore.  I don't mind either way. Have you ever been in labor?  If you haven't: Nothing compares to labor, folks.  It feels like you're being ripped in two, and sometimes you really are.  It is not for the faint of heart, huh, as you might imagine thanks to my lovely description. The uterus is stronger than any other muscle in the human body for a reason.  It's a powerful vessel that deserves to have its rights protected…and therein lies room for debate. But the debates we're having distract from the real issue. We value freedom and independence in our country.  Freedom of speech, dress, choice… But in trying to define independence, we've lost site of it; we've forgotten that true independence can only exist alongside dependence--on more than just ourselves.  I, personally, believe that dependence should be rooted in God, but I'll try to speak in more general terms, to make a point that doesn't need defending. Though I am pro-life, you will not find any of my funds going to support an organization that plasters aborted babies (yes, I did just say babies) on massive posters for all eyes to see.  More harm than good comes from that approach.  To me, pro-life means supporting what sustains spiritual, physical, and emotional life.   Have you ever seen anyone skipping to an abortion clinic with a smile on their face?  Not me.  The few women I know who've had an abortion certainly weren't happy to do it.  Though they were (yes, were) pro-choice, they actually felt robbed of a choice when considering their limited options before going forward with it.  Fear interferes with our ability to make choices.  In fact, it robs us of any true choice, really.  I'm gonna get Christian on you, again, excuse me, but I'm just itching to say it.  Perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18).  (You knew I was gonna have to throw a little bible in here somewhere, huh?  Just not using the verses you typically see being used in this context. ;) General Fears: How to break the news to the parents?  How to take care of this baby after it's born, on a limited income, and without ANY SUPPORT (spiritual, physical, and emotional--because, yes, being a mom requires all that kind of support, and then some)? MORE SPECIFIC FEARS: How do I give birth to  a baby that was conceived in an unfortunate event, or at the wrong time, or with some rare health problem?  Though I personally don't believe any conception comes about by accident, I know that's not enough to convince anyone who frowns upon my "uneducated, Christian" way of thinking. But I wanted to add that in, to keep my position on this issue clear. To really provide choices, we need more than what pro-life and pro-choice politics can offer.  If there were fewer underlying fears, there would be fewer regrets, and fewer debates… because we can all agree that behind these fears is self-doubt, which stems from a lack of support. Liberal feminists will argue that they are strong, independent, and intelligent.  I'm an independent feminist who also considers herself strong, independent, and somewhat intelligent (when my kids let me sleep thru the night ;)-- I didn't get that way on my own.  Anyone who thinks they did is lying to themselves. Yes, my faith is the primary source of strength.  But I've also been blessed with an amazing support system. We live in an ironically detached society that promotes independence.  I can tell you that I am independent because somebody (thankfully, many somebodys) believed in me by loving me.  Sometimes parents do that, other times it's someone else…  Even as a married adult in a healthy relationship, I cannot imagine what kind of struggle I'd face as a parent if I didn't have a support system. To those about to formulate an argument that sounds something like, "Well, it's easy for you to be pro-life BECAUSE you had that support system and you're married--you're in a totally different situation."  I'll say this:   My support system doesn't look anything like George Bush's.  It looks more like Obama's.  I'll just leave it at that.  Oh yeah, and I was almost aborted, just a quick sidenote.  So I guess I fall under the, "at the wrong time" category--though my husband would beg to differ.  At age 2, I knew what food stamps were and wore dresses as blouses when they were too short for me.  Thankfully, I am alive because my mother realized she had a support system, and didn't have to make a choice she'd regret, and truly didn't want to make. To those who say that anyone who gives their child up for adoption is weak, and that it's an easy choice, I'll say this:  Remember what I said about labor--that it can literally tear you in half?  Imagine going thru that kind of pain physically AND emotionally.  Carry a baby for 9 months (it's really 40 weeks, so yeah), go thru 20 something hours of labor, and hand that baby over to someone you hardly know but somehow trust.  EASY?  HECK NO.  I have a hard time leaving my 10 month old with a sitter!! I watch way too many baby shows, one of them, "I'm Having Their Baby," features an ex female soldier who went to war.  She said she'd rather be at war than give her baby up for adoption.  THESE WOMEN NEED OUR SUPPORT TOO.  To selflessly make that kind of decision requires the kind of strength that could only exist if some kind of support system was in place, before AND after.  THEY ARE GIVING THEIR BABIES A CHOICE; they're placing them in the arms of loving, stable families that will allow them to make their own wise choices as independent adults who understand their freedoms. Abortion breaks hearts.  Pardon me for getting sentimental, but I think part of the problem is that we've taken the sentimentality away.  My mother used to make a lot of statements that started with, "When you become a mother…"  Well, I'm a mother now, and I feel more passionate on my position  than ever before.  But there's no power in passion without execution--just not the kind that keeps a heart from beating.  Wherever you stand, can you truly say that you're doing your part in showing these women they truly have as many choices as we say they do?

Status Update Fine Prints

One of my last posts was about how people think that the good life is published and talked about a little too much on Facebook, and it bothers them.  Then I mentioned how I like to, personally, talk about the good things so that I don't focus so much on the bad.  Well, I wish Facebook worked more like my brain.  Because sometimes I get stuck focusing on the bad, and it can be very easy to do sometimes. I tend to spiral.  Usually some kind of event triggers it.  A few weeks ago, I discovered some disheartening news about my dad.  Nearly 15 years of sobriety gone down the drain, just like that, in one day.  It's partly chemical (skipping meds for 4 days when you have a mental illness isn't good), but I know it's also very spiritual.  Sometimes I just want to shake him and say, "Can't you see what you're doing?!  You're supposed to be the parent and somehow, I know more than you."  I just can't make any sense of it, but then again, I've never resorted to drugs or alcohol when depressed.  In fact, I've avoided it like the plague because addiction runs in my family. Then I got to spiraling myself.  I started thinking about my own childhood.  I know forgiveness is a choice, but it's not just a one-time choice, it's a daily one.  I get really angry sometimes.  I really don't know my dad because he wasn't there when I was a kid, and now he's chemically altered so I don't know the person he used to be.  But my reasons for getting angry today have less to do with my past than with my present... How do I know how to be a good mom if I didn't have that kind of secure attachment with my own parents?  This weighs on me every day.  Remember the Disney analogy, how I somehow made motherhood out to be this wonderfully amazing thing that just came naturally to everyone?  Some days, it's really easy.  When both my kids actually sleep well and I feel half sane.  Or when I get that random "I love you" in the middle of the day, unexpectedly.  Other days, when my three year old says, "I don't like you" because she doesn't want to eat anything resembling food for breakfast, it's not.  Motherhood does not come naturally on those days.  Acting like a child always comes easily.  I sometimes wish I could throw the eggs on the floor and say, "Fine, don't eat anything, then."  But, instead, I respond by saying, "I'm sorry you don't like me, that hurts my feelings."  Then I put the plate down and walk away. Little does my three year old know that when she uses this new and exciting phrase to express her disapproval, it really hits me.  Why?  Because I work so dang hard, sometimes I feel like I work harder than I should have to, because of the absent example. But then it hit me the other day.  We're all lacking an example.  How do we know how to be good people?  How do we define good and how do we know what love is, when, let's face it, we've all been hurt by the people who say they love us.  I believe we know because God put the understanding of his love in all of our hearts.  No, we don't get to see him face to face here on Earth.  But imagine how much easier being a good person would be if we could!  So easy.  To see perfect love being acted out before us every day would make  even driving easier, at least for me ;). I feel like having great parents is like having training wheels.  It gives you something to lean on when you're unable to ride without falling over on your own.  It gives you a sense of security.  Knowing you won't hit the pavement so quickly if you loose your balance makes riding a whole lot easier.  But just because you never had training wheels doesn't mean you'll never learn how to ride a bike.  It just means you have the opportunity to learn to ride while only trusting the invisible hand.  Training wheels can be removed.  Sometimes they break; sometimes the wheels get jammed.  But we all have God holding onto us. It sounds so nice, and easy, just saying it.  Ha.  They say when you write something, your brain believes it more than if you just say it out loud.  Today, I hope that's true because my brain is struggling to hear and believe the truth, when there are disappointing memories replaying like a broken record.  It's slowly becoming the background noise, though. Though I have plenty of moments that literally bring me to my knees in tears as a mom, sometimes a few tears of joy are mixed in with the frustration.  When I focus more on what I'm actually seeing instead of the broken record, I have nothing else to say but, "Thank you."  Thank you, God, for sparing me from drugs, alcohol, and an abusive spouse so that I can have the beautiful family that I've always wanted--the one you provided.  Even though Mirabel may have her, "I don't like you" moments, she also has her, "I love you" moments, and I didn't have either of those with my dad. Progress, we're making it, slowly but surely. Since becoming a mom, I've been able to let things go a whole lot more.  Maybe it's wrong to say I've been able, more like I've been forced ;).  I've always been a neat-freak, my way of providing order amidst chaos, I guess.  I'd like to think that by leaving toys on the floor for 24 hours and clean clothing in the laundry for 3 days, I'm proving that I no longer need so much artificial order, since my life is not quite as chaotic.  Here's the evidence:

see, I even mixed whites and colors!  Just don't tell my husband ;0).

playroom

guest room, after a horrendous sewing experiment.

....ok, so maybe I decided to sew some dresses instead of clean.  But in order to get this done, I had to let things go.  (And lose sleep, these were made on the nights Juliette decided it was partytime at 2 AM.)

Progress requires letting things go.  I need to let go of the fact that I can't re-do the past.  I will not be the perfect mom, even if I do/did have an ideal childhood.  I will not have cutely dressed children in homemade dresses AND a clean house and wrinkle-free clothing ;)...

But my children are happy, on the days that they like me (when I give them fruit snacks for breakfast instead of eggs ;).  That's all I ever really wanted for them, even before they were born.

**And I finally wrote a post!  But my kitchen is covered in pancake crumbs and I've been asked for a treat about 5 times.  I got up to clean someone's bottom and change the song on the radio about 10 times, for the serious music critic under 4....but I wrote a post!!**

June 2013

I am due for a post, but this will have to do for today :).