I’m a fan of it, and some days it seems as though this household has very little at this stage. The walls are standing but bare, the house is clean but cluttered, and the only consistency is that my husband leaves every morning for work around 6 am. Actually… that’s not true. The newest consistency is that my 22 month old now wakes up with his dad. So, there’s that.
After Mac was born, I went back to work twice a week and he went to daycare. I didn’t realize how reliant we had become on that schedule. It was the “break” I needed to talk to adults and use my skills; plus Mac is incredibly social, very extroverted, and he loves time with other people. I am still doing consulting work from home, but will not go back to the hospital until after Baby #2 comes. To be honest, the three weeks in this house since our move with only each other’s company during the day have not brought out the best in either of us.Realizing this, I sat down on Monday morning and tried to figure out
how we are going to survive how we are going to build some structure into these endlessly hot summer days in renovation/post-move mode.
First, I got serious about some meal planning! Call it a pregnancy craving, but I cannot get enough tomatoes in my life right now. You would struggle to find someone in this life who loves a tomato sandwich more than yours truly (even when not pregnant), and I am pretty sure the produce guy at Kroger is tired of me hoarding all the goods. When I came across this yummy bruschetta chicken pasta recipe by Karina at Café Delites, I jumped on the idea.
Those who know me well will tell you that I am a “dumper”; in other words, I eyeball and taste as I go/I am not very patient with following an actual recipe . I learned most about cooking from my grandmother, and her motto is ‘understand the end goal and have fun getting there’. As a result, I am a terrible baker but can cook just about anything. I seasoned and baked the chicken ahead of time, used whole wheat pasta, and served it with an herbed Italian loaf bread. I did make a balsamic glaze and while that tasted good, I don’t think the dish actually needed it.
In my planning on Monday, I also committed to making morning time at the YMCA a priority during the week. During our time in Chattanooga, some of my favorite relationships were built with other moms at the local Y (and our herd of young’uns).
While I don’t have the same group of workout buddies here, the exercise and “break” has been so good for my body and brain this week. This mama needed some endorphins. Also, there is this incredibly fit blonde mom at my new Y who happens to be, like, 59 months pregnant. She climbed on Jacob’s Ladder for 20 minutes straight yesterday morning. (If you don’t know what that is, look it up. Your quads will be sore and you’ll probably burn at least 100 calories simply from reading about it.) Let’s just say I felt quite a bit of motivation/ridiculous competition/despair/mama power watching her, and when she finished I didn’t know whether to weep or cheer. #goals
I am also planning to start Bible Study Fellowship (BSF) in September. We will be studying the book of John, and I am looking forward to some in depth, dedicated time in the Word – especially since we are still finding a church home and since my sweet boy has decided to start his days during my typical morning quiet times.
I have never done a BSF study before, but I have never heard anyone do anything but rave about it. I have several close girlfriends here in Nashville who will also be doing the study, and I am excited to talk with them about what we will be learning. There are classes all over the world and probably one near you! I have heard incredible things about their childcare program too.
Fist bump, booty slap, and a big bubbly cheers to all of you full-time Stay At Home Moms. Being home everyday has been a challenge for me, especially in renovation mode. There are so many “no no’s” around our house right now. I understand why moms don’t wash their hair or wear anything but yoga pants. We laugh, but y’all, that is real. I don’t enjoy “living for naptime” every day. I am so tempted to just write my frustration and impatience off as “I am not June Cleaver and I am just not wired to do this”. But that’s not good enough. While it may be true that I don’t do well at home all day every day, it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t give this season of life 110% and figure out how to make it work for my family. So that’s what I’m going to do… Thanking the good Lord for long grocery store trips, YMCA childcare, play dates, the cooler days where we can be outside longer, and Mothers’ Day Out all along the way 🙂
Bummi Laditan, author of The Honest Toddler (which is hysterical), wrote this the other day and it resonated with me.
Motherhood takes you to heaven and hell every day. It erases your past and amplifies it at the same time. It destroys and rebuilds you, slowly and carefully: replacing the cracked, broken bricks with stronger ones with no anesthesia.
Motherhood kills the old you; it doesn’t care who you think you are, only who you must be in this moment to meet the needs of the ones you invited into this world.
And somehow, by feeding that child, loving that child, wiping that child’s tears from their damp cheeks, pouring water over that child’s head as you sit beside them, uncomfortable and damp next to the bathtub, you become the gentlest of warriors.
Motherhood is a bridge that you walk alone, but as you look to your left and to your right, you see others on their own bridges, navigating the rickety planks of swaying wood. And as you see them struggling just like you are not to fall, it gives you the courage to take one more step.
Motherhood is painfully lonely, but at 3 o’clock in the afternoon whether you’re sitting on the living room floor with a child who doesn’t know your real name or at 3 o’clock in the morning with a child who needs your steady tapping on their pajama-ed back, you’re not alone because all over the world, mothers are doing the same thing. Their minds wander through the garden of their imaginations and memories, dreaming of sleep and rest, but powered by the fiercest of love.
The love that one pours into their child doesn’t come from the heart. Anyone can be in love. Anyone can be infatuated. The type of love one has for their child comes from the center of their bones. It’s the type of love that doesn’t need reciprocation to burn hot. It’s the type of love that never keeps score. It’s the type of love that powers nature in her infinite beauty and ruthlessness.
When a mother says, “I love you,” she doesn’t mean “I love how you make me feel” she means “You are my world, my sun and my moon and not life or death can change that, wherever you are I will find you whether it be across seas or lost within yourself. You are my breath and the light inside my eyes.”
Motherhood, while almost never glamorous, is always beautiful.
Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for a master bedroom reveal in the next week or so!