At This Moment

I picked up one of my favorite magazines, Bella Grace (Issue 7), and it had this writing prompt I wanted to give a shot. Feel free fill in your own list and share!

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One of the best ways to cheer yourself up is to take a trip down memory lane. Record all of the things you’re currently loving and enjoying, and the next time you feel down, refer back to this list.

Currently I’m:

Reading: I just finished quite a few books by Charlie N. Holmeburg (I really enjoyed The Paper Magician Trilogy and Follwed By Frost) and started a book called “La Bella Lingua: My Love Affair with Italian, the World’s Most Enchanting Language” by Diane Hales. We are planning a trip with the kids to Italy in a few months and this book is my way of preparing and getting excited.

Eating: Right now, my staples are: Power Grain waffles with almond butter and sugar free syrup for breakfast every morning (it’s so fast, easy, and yummy), and a protein shake for lunch (I swear replacing lunch foods with smoothies has healed my stomach issues). I have a honeycrisp apple every day... to keep the doctor away and all. Dinner is where I change it up, but it’s typically grilled salmon or chicken with veggies or in a salad. I get more wild on the weekends when we tend to eat out more. Did I mention I hate cooking?

Drinking: Green tea, Ginger tea… And I just started drinking coffee again! It’s taking some getting used to (all the shaking and jitteriness) but my stomach is finally tolerating it once again after a year hiatus. Hurray!

Listening To: A CD that my brilliantly talented choir conductor, Peter Hillard, made for each section of the choir (unedited) to learn their parts for our Spring Concert in May. It’s equal parts helpful, disturbing, and hilarious. My kids are starting to sing along to the Alto parts as if they’re the melody. I’ve been driving with the windows up more often.

Watching: I don’t watch much… I prefer to quietly read! But when I do, it’s usually a new release movie I can rent from iTunes or Amazon, or binge watch episodes of New Girl, The Mindy Project, or Brooklyn 99 while I clean.

Texting: Been trying to text my siblings and family more often. I’m terrible at keeping in touch, and I miss them.

Photographing: The simple, ordinary, beautiful and exciting stuff that is my daily life. I like my perusing my Instagram feed and smiling at how full and happy my life is. I’m a lucky gal. I’ve also been taking pictures of outfits before I head out on a trip. Makes packing way easier.

Loving: I just joined a Cardio Kickboxing gym, and I love it. It’s totally exhilarating to me when I put my everything into a workout, which is easy to do when punching and kicking the crap out of a giant weighted bag. My mind and body are challenged, and I walk out exhausted. I text my husband after every class to remind him how much I love it. Cuz he should know, ya know?

Smelling: Everything. I have a sensitive nose, and more often than not, I find myself wishing people wouldn’t wear perfume or cologne. To me, it’s as rude, inconsiderate, and physically harmful to others as smoking. Unlike other things you can wear that don't physically affect people around you… perfume and cologne are harmful to people like me who get headaches, sinus inflammation, and migraines from strong smells. So, friends, I’m sure if you shower a few times a week, your natural smell is just fine. Better even, than any chemical you choose to spray yourself with. Okay?
<Sigh> Rant over.

Celebrating: My mom’s breast cancer removal and lack of the bad cells. She doesn’t need radiation, and we’ll find out about chemo treatment soon, but I’m celebrating her and the fact that she’ll be enjoying life a lot longer! Woohoo!

Enjoying: My marriage. We just celebrated 8 years! My husband rocks. He’s my best friend. I love who he is and how he thinks, and I enjoy talking to him with all his thoughts and perspectives. I’m also enjoying watching my 4 year old learn to read, write, and count, and watching my 2 year old just grow up to be a big girl.

Trying: To accept my body. It’s hard. I’m a perfectionist. There’s so much awesomeness about it, yet so much I’m not happy with. It’s a constant struggle, but the more (and less!) I try the easier it’s getting. Being around strong women who don’t (seem) to have body issues is helpful. Subjecting myself to less media helps, too. Being grateful for the good parts over the bad. Replacing negative self-talk as soon as it comes up is helping, too!

Feeling: A bit run down, but recovering. I had a busy week last week, and then traveled, and have a busy week next week. I did too much and hurt my lower back (not as bad as I did around this time last year) but I’m taking it easy and slowly getting it back to normal.

Hoping: To see my sister soon. I miss her. And to be in better control and have more awareness of our finances. We’ve been on top of it lately and it feels good!

Considering: Moving. I just toured my dream home (sort of by accident - we were checking out the neighborhood and the realtor walked out and gave us a tour!) and seriously considering it. I’m trying not to fall too hard, especially since it’s the first place I’ve seen, other than looking online. We weren’t planning on moving this year, and the house probably won’t be on the market for that long! We’re trying to pick a good place to settle down and plant some roots, where the kids can go to awesome schools and grow up with neighborhood friends.

Pinning: Cute dresses and outfits (since I have a wedding and a bunch of traveling coming up this summer) and writing inspiration and prompts.

Writing: Blog posts, journaling, and sometimes working on a book or short stories.

“Never let a day pass without looking for the good, feeling the good within you, praising, appreciating, blessing, and being grateful. Make it your life commitment, and you will stand in utter awe of what happens in your life.” - Rhonda Byrne

“We are all pure perfection, desperately trying to be something we already are. Life is not a struggle, life is a song and we were all born to dance.” - Anita Krizzan 

“She had a little rebel in her. A little chaos and a little gentleness. She didn’t say much and sometimes she would doze off. She would drift away, dream with the stars, and that was OK. She had a little fight in her and every time she built enough courage, her voice would echo through the sky. She wasn’t complete, but she had enough. There was a science to her genius, her madness, her beauty, and there was nothing she couldn’t accomplish. She was unstoppable and everything she ever wanted she took, with nothing on but a smile.” - H.W. Drake 

Special Editions

At the airport recently, I grabbed a copy of Glamour magazine, the one with a beautiful, dark haired woman in a flowing red dress on the cover. I didn’t think anything of it, until the cashier said to me, “You know this magazine costs $12.99, right? It’s the Plus-Sized Special Edition.” And I stared at her, and even skeptically squinted my eyes while I considered what she said. Why does this magazine cost more just because there are bigger women on it? It’s not like they needed bigger sheets of paper or more ink to make it. Ridiculous.  

I shook my head incredulously and eventually forced a pleasant reply: "that's fine." (After all, it wasn’t the cashier’s fault.)  As I leafed though the glossy spreads on my 5 hour flight, I noticed all the women in the magazine were plus-sized, not just the cover model. All the ads (which seemed to be just a few companies over and over throughout the magazine, thanks to their new partnership with Lane Bryant), the fashion sections, and articles were geared toward women sizes 12 and up. And despite my not being size 12 or above, I still enjoyed the magazine. Not much was different except for the size of the women in it. I wasn’t staring at an abundance of graceful, tree-like models, who always look inexplicably happy (though perhaps hungry? I kid, I kid) and well-lit. It felt less like a peek at some crazy, unattainable life, and more like the reality I see and interact with everyday. I finished reading it feeling fine about myself, compared to the anxious, I-don’t-have-that, I-don’t-look-like-that feeling I get after I read one of it's other “normal” magazine editions. 

A few days later, I stood in the bathroom brushing my hair as my two and four year old daughters watched and commented. “You’re beautiful, Mommy,” the oldest said. The two year old parroted. I turned to them and instead of thanking them for their thoughts, I stopped and looked into their eyes. “I know! And since I’m beautiful, you are too, because you are my daughters. You are like me because I made you,” I strongly stated with a serious face (eyebrows raised and all) and continued, “and a little bit of Daddy, ‘cause he made you, too.” They listened wide-eyed, and then burst into giggles and ran out of the room. 

I wondered what it was going to be like for my daughters when they reach that self-aware age. Are they going to feel like they don’t belong or fit in because they don’t look like the women in magazines? Are they not going to be able to pick up the asian magazines or the white people magazines because they aren’t simply one or the other? I know I’m not alone with these type of thoughts; my concerns aren’t anything new to parenting. I’d love to live in - and have my kids grow up in - a society of acceptance. And if we can’t manage that in the midst of vast diversity, then I’d at least like them to be able to hold their own and have a strong sense of self-worth and self-acceptance. Perhaps that’s where the change begins. Perhaps that’s where it began for all the women and people who fought for rights and equality. 

I’m working on it - on acceptance of self and others - and hopefully passing it on to my kids and everyone else who deserves their own Special Editions. I’m glad our society is working on it, and that it’s slowly getting better. I just wish it cost less. :) 

Quarterly Quench

I’ve often questioned my inability to stick to things for any length of time. I’ve tried sticking to a meal plan, a budget, a new habit, a new activity, a job, or a new hair style, and they’ve all had the life span of a fruit fly.

Follow-through friendly people who make a plan and stick to it are revered. We attach attributes like "successful" and "worthy" to them and place them high on a pedestal. We look at these people and secretly wish that we, too, possessed the wherewithal to save money and invest wisely, lose all the weight and run marathons, or become an expert at a skill. We tout quotes like “Those who fail to plan, plan to fail” and plaster motivational posters like that dumb kitten falling from the tree branch one that says “Hang in There” on our walls. 

But what about when you "stick with it" and nothing happens? Are you less successful or less worthy? Where are the motivational slogans inspiring you to give up? Where are the articles, classes, and sage advice for what to do when you actually need to give the F up and try something else? 

Aside from bad habits, let's agree that there are just some things we shouldn’t stick with. Things that work for some, just don’t work for others. Not all kids learn the same way. Not everyone likes healthy food. Not everyone was meant for running, or for math equations, care-taking, building, or for painting. At what point are we choosing to feed our stubbornness and fear, rather than our adaptability and growth?

The past few months, I've been challenging myself with growth and acceptance, and tightly embracing my personality. In practicing self-forgiveness, I’ve let go of the negatives vibes I’ve forever directed at myself for my occasional lack of follow-through. I've struggled with commitment, especially if it's something I've lost interest in, and it's only gotten harder with having kids. I abhor the idea of saying I will do something and then not, so I've learned to forgive myself (especially when it's out of my control) and to carefully choose my commitments.  I’m done with wondering what’s wrong with me and embraced what’s right. I’ve replaced giving up with change. And I’ve delightfully discovered a pattern:

I have a 3 month attention span. My curiosity is so vicious, it hungrily drives me to search for the next thing to discover, explore, and devour. Generally around the 3 month mark, I find myself satisfied. I feel I’ve conquered the challenge, and thus, I find myself apathetic, indifferent, and honestly disinterested. The emblazoned flame of excitement has smoldered to a barely there flicker. My curiosity has waned, and is already searching for the next ignition switch: the next spark of new, clean, sparkly, scary, wild, thrilling, addicting, silly, or challenging. 

In spite of my constant curiosity, I've discovered there are 4 things that have always stuck around. I’m confident that I'll never give up on these, because I've realized I can just cleverly change them up when I get bored:

1. Exercise: Racquetball and Spinning have become the staples I do once a week that keep me excited about taking care of my body. When I get bored, I change it up… like a new class at the gym, weight lifting, swimming, skiing, playing a sport, walking outside, hiking, running, or yoga. Up next on my list to try: Cardio kickboxing, boxing, and mountain biking. 

2. Writing: I’ll work on writing a book for a while, then maybe some essays, or short story writing. Whatever strikes my fancy. Or perhaps, I’ll work on blog posts, or maybe it will be more reflective writing in a journal. 

3. Reading: I’ll go for a while reading only fantasy books, and then I’ll need a break and change it up by reading some basic fiction, chick lit, or a classic. Sometimes I’ll even stop for a week and binge watch TV to catch up all I’ve missed while I was happily lost in a fantasy world of magic. 

4. Music: My passion for music brightly burns. I quell it by listening to new stations on Spotify, singing along to oldies-but-goodies at the top of my lungs (alone in the car), joining choirs, leading worship or singing solos at church, going to concerts, practicing the harp, or working on my sight reading at the piano.  

I'm not a quitter. I'm a changer. I don't give up, I change it up. So, if you find yourself to be a fellow changer too, here are a few fantastic quotes you can tout to naysayers, or just plaster to your walls:

“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore."  – Andre Gide 

“In a chronically leaking boat, energy devoted to changing vessels is more productive than energy devoted to patching leaks.” – Warren Buffett

“By changing nothing, nothing changes.” - Tony Robbins  

“They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.”– Andy Warhol 

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don’t resist them; that only creates sorrow. Let reality be reality. Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.” – Lao Tzu

“To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often.” – Winston Churchill

“You’re always you, and that don’t change, and you’re always changing, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” – Neil Gaiman 

“Certain things, they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone.” – J.D. Salinger

Happy Quarter Quell!

(It's a reference to The Hunger Games trilogy, mom)

Adjust Your Grip

Monday:

I bent over and locked my too-big-for-me rented ski boots into the clamps on my rented snowboard. I stood up and immediately cringed. My legs did not want to be permanently stuck this far apart and at these awkward angles. Not even for a second.

I clenched my jaw while my husband and I followed our snowboarding instructor, Chris, out into the snow. We spent half an hour getting to know our snowboards and how it felt to slide down a teeny hill without being able to move our feet. Eventually, we graduated to the bunny hills (not even the bunny slopes... there was no way in hell I’d get on those lifts with a snowboard) where standing on a slow moving conveyor belt took us to the top. Chris would demonstrate different skills to slowly maneuver down the mountain for us, then would come back and hold our hands as we awkwardly tried it ourselves.

After just an hour, I was exhausted. I thought I was pretty fit, but that idea was smashed like my butt in the snow. My whole body was against snowboarding, especially my feet and calves, and screamed it out loud every time I fell, moved, or even stood still. All that started to change, however, the minute Chris reminded me to center myself and said, “You gotta just relax. Take it easy. Relax yourself, you’re doing great.” He let go of his grip on my hands and moved away. I took a deep breath, and was about to let him have it - and tell him to relax (WTF is up with people telling me to relax!) - when I realized how tense I actually was. Admittedly, I was just a wee bit scared of free falling down a slippery mountain with a heavy board stuck to my now totally useless feet. And my fear was hindering my ability to actually snowboard down the mountain, which is um, like kinda the point.

I took another deep breath, reached my arms out to balance, and pretended like I knew what I was doing. While I wondered what it would feel like if I could actually do this on my own... voila! I did it!
(We still opted out of returning after lunch for our afternoon lesson. Sadly, Chris was beside himself and we had to give him the ol' "it's not you, it's me" talk - you know, that sort of thing.)

The next day:

I plopped down and bounced a few times onto the squishy leather seat. With super thick snow gloves, I raised the kill switch, pushed the ignition button, and squeezed the accelerator handle. My snowmobile lurched forward an inch and stopped immediately, whiplashing my body forward and back. With two fingers hovered over the left brake grip, I slowly squeezed the right handle grip again. I just as slowly moved my machine through the snow… then abruptly stopped. Again. Embarrassingly, this went on a few more times before I finally got a feel for the grip.

I spent the first 20 minutes of our ride freaked out like an elderly car driver living on their brakes. What if my snowmobile hit a weird bump and went flying down the side of the (freshly snowed and groomed) mountain pass? My runny nose, blue lips, and red chin balked at the chilly air, and then either adjusted to the temperature or became so numb I couldn’t feel them anymore. Despite the nifty warming feature on the handle, my hands and wrist were numb, too. My shoulders were sore from being tense and tightly gripping the handles.

Our guides led us to a snow covered frozen lake (a bit larger than a football field), where we were given free reign to ride around and get used to our snowmobiles. That helped quite a bit, but then (after enjoying a stunning viewpoint of Lake Tahoe) we began to head back.

The descent was a bit more treacherous; the snow was softer, deeper, and not quite as groomed the higher we were on the mountain. It required a lot more arm strength to maneuver the snowmobile and stay a good distance behind the person in front of me. My arms started to shake and tire. My wrists and hands started to ache. My neck was stiff from being so alert. To be honest, while it was beautiful, thrilling, and exciting, I’ve have to say, it was mostly… scary.    

After a while of this, going 30 miles an hour down a slippery mountain, I took a deep breath, and chose to forcibly relax my body. I pulled my shoulders down and away from my ears. I took a deep breath and adjusted my grip on the handles. I squeezed the snowmobile with my thighs and finally felt in control of the beastly hunk of metal. It was exhilarating. I felt less like a passive rider getting tossed about, and more like an active one. It took a little while, but I finally felt in control, and excited to ride faster and be more daring when hitting all the bumps, jumps, and turns. It was awesome, and I found myself wanting to do it again!

Later that day:

I got some awful news; a biopsy confirmed that my mom has stage 2 ductal breast cancer. (Thankfully it was caught early and we are optimistic.) After an exhilarating morning, I sat on the bed that afternoon devastated. My body tensed up again. I found myself scared for the third time during this trip. But after having quite a bit of practice being scared, I took a few deep breaths, and tried to relax. I was still scared, but knew it was time to “adjust my grip” again. Being tense and upset hadn’t worked for me snowboarding down a hill or snowmobiling down a mountain. But relaxing and adapting had, so I tried my best to put that into practice.

I can’t control everything that happens; I wish I could. I wish I could order my snowboard to do what I say, perfectly control my snowmobile, force the snow to oblige, and command the cancer cells to disappear. I can’t.Thankfully, though, there is something I can do: change the way I react. I can be passive and tense, and let things overwhelm, scare, or control me. Which will lead to nothing. Nothing will happen, other than my body and mind getting injured or hurt, (and as we have seen from a few of my previous posts, my body responds to my mental angst and it’s not pleasant, to say the least) which accomplishes… More nothing.

Instead, I’m learning I can be active, and choose my reactions. I can trust my instincts, change my attitude, be aware of how I’m feeling and what’s actually happening, and adapt accordingly. I can remove myself from the situation, talk about it, or adjust some other way. If I’m sad, I can cry. If I’m happy, I can smile and dance. If I’m scared, I can take a deep breath, and relax.

No matter what fears and uncontrollable things come my way, I can always adjust my grip.

I Spoke Up

It was a series of empowering decisions that led me to allow 4 strange women into my home.

It wasn't easy.
I struggled for a long time with feelings of guilt and unworthiness.
I felt like my needs were insignificant. Unreasonable even.

But slowly, I came around. I started to realize how legitimate my needs and wants were. As I began to speak them aloud, I became aware of the burden of just having them, and I shoved them deep down to a place just as insignificant as I thought they deserved. I discovered that there is actually no place in your mind or heart that is insignificant at all. It's all extremely important, and interconnected, and delicately interwoven. The body is a well oiled machine that needs every single tiny screw, bolt, or spring. There is no room to shove or hide anything. That's not how the machine works. It was well designed. Extremely efficient. Every part and piece intentional and purposeful.

Anyways... back to the four women and why I let them in my home:

1. Once I had babies, I realized taking care of something's every need, 24/7, was not fun and magical at all for me. I found it exhausting and draining to my introverted self. It’s hard. Relentless. Yes, joyful, but still the toughest thing I've ever had to do. I realized I wasn't designed to do it alone. I got to a point where I knew the mommy guilt was no longer working for me. I got to that yucky, desperate place where the need for change is so overwhelming, I couldn’t function without it happening. My mind would be totally lost and shut down if it didn't get it's quiet time to rest and process in it's own slow, quiet way. So, I finally spoke up. I realized how significant my feelings and needs were. And here's what happened:

A) We moved closer to family.
B) Twice a week I hired a babysitter, then eventually put the kids in a day school to socialize and catch colds, and not feel pressured to do play dates (I have a very extroverted toddler).
C) I enjoy weekends without them and even short vacations. I struggled with a lot of guilt at first, but realized this is what I, Emily, needed… to be a good mom. I am my own idea of what a mom is, and I get to choose what that looks like.

2. For years, I struggled with fear and anxiety every time my husband left on a work trip. After we had kids it got worse, since now (should disaster strike) I was not only responsible for myself, but for two little humans, too. On occasion, I'd sleep with a knife under my pillow and my car keys next to my head. Other than asking him not to go (which wasn't always possible - gotta get that $$$ ya'll!) I didn't think my feelings were a big enough deal to do anything about. But then, I began to get anxiety and panic attacks when I traveled, which I had never had before. I was frustrated. I got to that desperate point again. Clearly, it was time. I finally spoke up, and:

A) We got a security alarm system.
B) I enlisted a therapist to help address and figure out my anxiety with some good ol’ CBT techniques and support. 

3. With two toddlers, even in day school a couple times a week, I still felt like I didn't have any time to myself. I chose to be a stay at home mom, and be responsible for all affairs of the household, and children (and sometimes the husband). It is no easy task for one person to manage, especially when you have a ton of square footage of old house, half of which is your husband’s studio where guests, friends, and clients visit often, and interns work every day. So, finally, I spoke up, and:

A) I let go of the need for perfection, and really, my idea of what a Mom is, what a Mom "should be,” or what a Mom does. The image of a Mom's role somehow got stuck in my head, and it was totally wrong for me. (*I like to blame society and social media for this, while simultaneously thanking them that the role of Moms from the 40s and 50s are no longer around). I am not solely a Mom. I am way more than that. I started creating my own ideas of who I am and what my life looks like that works best for me and my family.
B) I hired a cleaning service. 

So yes, four strange women are in my home right now, cleaning. I feel vulnerable, judged, and uncomfortable. But more importantly, I feel relieved. Like a heavy burden that I’ve been carrying around has just disappeared. And fortuneately, I know that those feelings of vulnerability, judgement, and uncomfortableness will pass. They always do over time, and I know this for sure, because:

Every time I speak up, it gets easier. I feel lighter. And stronger. Empowered. And I reach that exhilarating point where I can take care of myself and my needs, take care of my family’s needs, and still have something left to give to others. 

Gotta Glow

While out enjoying a fantastic day shopping with my husband, we overheard a few young girls walking behind us. One told the other: "You just gotta glow. Just glow." To which her friend frustratingly replied: "Girl, I just wanna cross the street." So today, I just wanna glow. I want some positive vibes and happy thoughts and rainbows to head my way, so I decided to make it happen by creating a list of 25 Things I Really Enjoy:

1. Stretching.
2. My husband's smile, and his laugh (the kind where he can barely breathe and doubles over).
3. When my kids make a discovery or learn something new. The look on their faces is priceless. 
4. The Sun: A) Eating watermelon under it while enjoying a cool breeze on a perfect day, B) the way it filters through the leafy canopy of trees and magically makes world seem to twinkle and sparkle, and C) the way it peeks through a cloudy day and warms my face.
5. When my spirit is moved by a song. 
6. A book I get so sucked into I can’t eat or sleep till I finish it. 
7. Warm, scrumptious comfort food, like homemade gnocchi or risotto.
8. How wearing gym clothes allows my body to move the way it was designed.
9. A worn in pair of flip flops.
10. The feeling of fabulous luxury cotton clothes, especially summer dresses against my skin.
11. Getting cozy on the couch with a book and a pot of tea within reach on a gray, rainy day.
12. Giggling with my little girls. 
13. The few moments when my little girls wake up and are all disheveled and snuggly. 
14. The bubbly feeling of elation when reaching my goals or feeling proud. 
15. The way my body feels when I’ve tested it: surfing, playing racquetball, running, swimming, biking, cycling, yoga-ing, weight lifting, long walks, skiing, stuffed with food, relaxed in a hot tub or steam room, sex, and even having babies. I love knowing and feeling what it’s capable of, especially since it helps me love it more. 
16. Seeing my family, and seeing them happy and loving life. 
17. Digging my toes into the sand and listening to ocean waves crash.
18. Floating on my back in the ocean and staring at the sky.
19. Floating on my stomach in the ocean and searching for treasure.
20. The excitement and butterflies in my stomach of exploring a new place. 
21. Watching animals at the zoo.
22. The way I lose track of time when I write. Or read. 
23. The randomness of tree branches.
24. Bright, happy colors.
25. My life. 

What are some things you really enjoy? I hope just thinking about them puts a smile on your face. You just gotta glow. :) 

Stepping Over Waffles

I noticed a two-day old, rock hard Eggo waffle on the floor of my kitchen. I didn't bend over and pick it up. I didn't grab a broom and sweep it. My first instinct was to kick it under the table, but I knew if I did that, it'd live on the floor even longer than if it stayed in its current spot. So I acknowledged it, took a picture of it, and stepped over it.

That’s what me embracing chaos looks like. Yes, it would’ve been easy to pick up, much like the other millions of little things scattered across the floors of my house. One can only bend over so many times before one simply cannot. 

That's also what me actively practicing acceptance looks like. I'm accepting the mess that comes with managing a household with little kids. I'm going to bed at night being okay with a sink full of dishes, food left out on the table, mountains of laundry covering my couch, hand prints marking my mirrors and windows, and Barbies, baby dolls, and crayons covering every surface. Beds rarely get made, because they get a lot of use. My kids might be unbathed and reusing last night’s pajamas, but their bellies and hearts are full, because we’re too busy having fun.

I fought the chaos for too long. I thought that having a clean house meant that I was a kick ass woman who was doing her job and taking care of her family. At least my house being clean was something I could control when life felt chaotic (which, with little kids, is like 100% of the time). But trying to reach unachievable goals was not only affecting me, but my relationships. I found myself questioning if maintaining order was the best use of my time. It’s relentless, exhausting, unfulfilling, thankless, annoying, frustrating, awful, unending, and at times, ridiculous (why are the dirty clothes right in front of the hamper and not actually in the hamper?). And I realized, my job isn’t to be a housekeeper, maid, or to be perfect, it’s to be a woman who takes care of her family while maintaining her sanity and sense of self. And that in itself is gonna be messy.

Staring at the cemented waffle, I surrendered to orderliness (but not to the germs, those jerks still need to be wiped-out). I don’t want to be remembered as a woman who's greatest success was keeping her house and family clean: I don’t want a trophy for that, I don’t want people in my life who expect it, and I most certainly don’t want it as my epitaph. 

Thanks to an article by Tim Challies, I'm doing a better job rationalizing the constant mess: 

“According to the wisest man who ever lived… messes are not proof of a wasted life, but of a productive one.
Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox” (Proverbs 14:4). According to this explanation, the proverb is about the messiness of a life well-lived. Tremper Longman says the moral is that “a productive life is a messy life.” Longman says, “One desires a neat and tidy life, just as the ideal stall would be clean. However, a clean stall by the nature of things would mean an empty stall since oxen do not have to be in a stall long before it is messy. However, without oxen there is no productivity.”
Derek Kidner says, that “Orderliness can reach the point of sterility. This proverb is [a plea for] the readiness to accept upheaval, and a mess to clear up, as the price of growth.” 

I figure for now, I'll leggo my need for order, and enjoy the growth of what is becoming the most productive life ever. And if I am invited into your messy home (that I probably won't even notice), I promise to congratulate or comment on your wonderfully productive life. 

Thanks for the perspective, little waffle.