The Middle.

It’s April now, the in-betweenest of all the months – in between winter and spring, not the beginning of the year, but not yet the summer. The middle.

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That’s where I find myself right now, in the middle (cue Maren Morris).

I’m not a new mom or a newlywed, but I’m still a young mom and a young-ish wife. I’m not super early in my career, but I also haven’t yet built the thing that I want to build. I’ve passed the discovery phase of my 20s, and now I’m learning how to undo patterns and habits that have rooted their way into this new decade.

The saying – when the student is ready, the teacher will appear – has never been more true in my life than in these last three months. My life since January has felt like a bootcamp in life skills: finances, emotional health, communication in marriage, parenting. I’ve been a sponge, soaking up new skills, shedding old perspectives, adopting new paradigms.

For one thing, we’ve stopped using personal credit cards completely. And I don’t mean that we use a credit card, and we pay it off every month. I’ve literally closed down credit lines. It’s one less thing for me to manage, and I will never go back.

Emotional health has become a real pursuit for me. We went to marriage counseling for the first time. I’m wrapping up a study on the subject with women from my church. Dates have become a weekly non-negotiable priority.  I’m learning every single day better ways to give and receive love, so that I can be the best mom and wife possible.

I’ve had a onslaught of gray hairs appear that I attribute to this particular learning season, but at the same time, I am enjoying this season so much because I have a glimpse of what’s ahead for our family. I have total and complete faith that our family legacy is being built, day by day, right now, in this season, in this year.

I am the farthest person from a marathon runner, but there is a special place in my heart for athlete analogies. I’m in the slog of the training phase. It’s slow. It’s hard. It’s sweaty. I’m moving a single step – a single action – at a time, but I’m confident that I’m heading in the right direction. The beautiful thing about this “race” is that it could be 26.2 miles, or it could not. Maybe it’ll only be 3 miles because God’s timelines and God’s ability to fulfill are infinitely greater than our own. Good news for us non-runners.

Welcome, 2018.

It feels kind of fitting that this is the last day of 2017. New Year’s Eve, and I’m feeling impatient and burned out, like I’ve felt for so much of this year. Nothing’s working today – our internet, the baby’s sleep schedule, even my latte was subpar. I burned the bacon and cut my hand on foil (???).  Break out the champagne – I need a new day and a new year.

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When I reflect on 2017, I can’t say that I knocked my goals out of the park. Twenty-seventeen was the year of parenting two under 3 and working full-time. That’s pretty much it.

And yet (because there’s always God’s goodness) –  there was our first house, and Judah’s first birthday. There were parties and dinners with friends, getaways and a gala.  We got to watch our boys grow. It was a yearlong season of trial and error and no sleep and long days. It was a year of beauty, and blessings, and also a very ordinary kind of hard.

Going into 2018, I’m not working on big milestones, but a day-to-day that’s aligned with my priorities and values. In past years, I’ve chosen a word to describe the theme for the year: intentional, present, creativity. This year, I’ve chosen a chapter: Proverbs 31, a vision for daily God-seeking, housekeeping, child-raising and working.

My goals for the first quarter of 2018 stem from my priority buckets: self-care, relationships, personal growth, resources, and work. I use a Day Designer, and I love that for each goal, there’s a section for monthly actions, a weekly routine, a daily habit, and what progress looks like. I’m ready to turn the corner into 2018, with lots of scaffolding via coaching, scheduling, and microactions. I’ve hired a sleep consultant, found house cleaning help, and signed up for a women’s study. I’ve penciled coffee dates with the hubs into my planner and financial check-ins. Baby steps. Progress, not perfection.

We’ve been sick for the better part of December, and off work for this last week. This time has been so crucial to helping us slow down, readjust our priorities, and remember what it’s like to have margin. I’ve really lowered the bar for myself these last few weeks, trading in “adventures” for hanging out at home, and big organizing projects for just one load of laundry. Even today, we had plans to go to Cortina’s for lasagna and tiramisu, and instead I made a weeknight bolognese, in my sweatpants, with leftover pecan pie for dessert. In many ways, these weeks have been the perfect transition to a new year. If there’s one lesson I’ve learned in 2017, it’s that simpler is so often better.

Tomorrow, we’ll have breakfast while watching the Rose Parade, a tradition for me ever since I was a little girl. In the afternoon, we’ll head to our favorite bed & breakfast, with a room overlooking the water. It’ll be our fourth year there, our annual family retreat starting off the new year with each other.

“We were together. I forget the rest.”
— Walt Whitman

What I'm Reading: February & March (and some recs for the littles).

So much of my reading list these days revolves around motherhood with a sprinkle around work and creative living. Now that I'm buying books for the boys as well as myself, I'm including a few recommendations for little ones too.

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For me:

Hands Free Mama. Sherry from Young House Love touted this book as the practical complement to Chasing Slow, which I loved. I'm feeling the squeeze on quality time with my boys, so I'm learning to be more intentional about being present and not distracted by a device, work or chores while I'm with them. I've teared up in more than a few places reading this book and reflecting on how quickly these precious moments pass. I'm learning that the quiet moments spent being completely present with my little ones can be just as soul-restoring, if not more, than alone time.

The Wellness Mama Cookbook. Healthy, budget-friendly recipes in under 30 minutes? Count me in. I really like that for the most part, the recipes in this book are super simple with no fancy ingredients that I have to make a special trip to the grocery store for. I've only had this book for a few weeks, and it's already the cookbook I turn to first for meal-planning. The slow cooker recipes are especially useful for me these days.

The New Preschool is Crushing Kids is an article that came on The Atlantic that has been influencing my thoughts about preschool (and this op-ed as well). Noah is all about stories – reading, listening, telling, and as this article states, "Conversation is gold." Education is such an investment, so I want to make sure that we're choosing the best one possible.

Brazen: The Courage to Find the You That's Been Hiding. My good friend told me about this author, who spoke at her MOPS group, so I looked up her book. This book is totally speaking to where I am in my creative life right now. I'm so skeptical of myself! This book is such an encouragement and provides the road-map for soul check-ins that I need.

A Woman's Place. I'm constantly asking myself, Am I doing what I am meant to do? This book adds another dimension to the women and work conversation.

The Magnolia Journal. Is there anyone who doesn't like Fixer Upper? This is a bonus dose of the home and life inspiration in print form. 

For the babes:

If You Give a Mouse A Cookie. I loved that this popped up on my Amazon feed, and knew immediately that Noah would get a kick out of it. We read this at least once a day, and he references it whenever I give him a cookie. In the cookie vein, I also bought Cookies Board Book: Bite-Size Life Lessons. We haven't read it yet, but after reading Amy Krouse Rosenthal's essay in the New York Times, I was hooked.

If you asked me what keeps me up at night, I would say children in vulnerable circumstances. The refugee crisis is breaking my heart. Teacup is a picture book about one boy's journey to a new homeland. It's never too early to start teaching empathy, and I'm confident that Noah will be interested in this story.

On a lighter note, Noah, like every other two year old boy it seems, is super into trucks. I bought him I Am a Garbage Truck, which we have read so. many. times. I Am a Fire Truck just dropped down to $2 (!) on Amazon, so of course I purchased it. Noah is like me and loves surprises and treats, and this book will be one for sure.

 

*note: this blog post contains affiliate links.

Enough.

I'm immersed in Present Over Perfect right now, Shauna Niequist's book that I pre-ordered months ago. I'm 36 pages in, and already, this stands out: 

"A friend and I recently talked about how invested we both are in people thinking that we're low maintenance – we both want to be seen as flexible, tough, roll-with-anything kinds of women. And this ends up keeping us from asking for what we need, for fear of being labeled difficult or diva-ish."

I have no fear of being labeled difficult. But I do have a simmering resentment that those fears are not misplaced. I've spoken up about time with my family and have been told that it was a "power play." And no one else protested that label but me. Something is very, very wrong when expressing needs, drawing boundaries, advocating for equal say is labeled as being difficult or controlling.

I work way too hard – both at my actual job, and then again, at home – and am way too tired, you know, growing a human being and all, to be ok with this: being mocked and vilified for asking for partnership, in my marriage and in my family. The price for being "flexible" is steep – exhaustion, disconnection, resentment; the penalty for speaking up is equally heavy – malignment, contempt, and the most emotionally hurtful label any mother can be given, "selfish."

I would love to wake up one day and realize that I was being silly and ridiculous and that what I thought was reality was just a figment of my imagination. But seven years into marriage, and this is still the alternate universe that I'm living in.

The women say, "Self-care! Happy moms are the best moms." And the men say, "Sure, honey, rest up. I'll just be spending the afternoon playing the most expensive, elitist, and time-consuming sport known to man – golf." 

I would love to take a spa day – sipping mocktails by the pool after an hour-long pregnancy massage and another hour-long facial. But that would take precious time away from my boys and precious money away from actual needs – diapers, student loans, an umbrella stroller for our upcoming trip.

I was an Econ major. I am well-versed in opportunity cost, trade-offs, optimization models. And yet, how do I optimize this life? How do I check off the boxes of: nourished, fulfilled, connected and also the boxes: good mother, happy wife?

I want to be heard, I want to be acknowledged, I want partnership. When has that turned into too much to ask for?

There's been a lot of talk of injustices lately, and for good reason. There is a danger to silencing voices, a danger to using privilege and your own metrics to compel others to live the same way you do. These inequalities are not just in the space of the "other." They coexist in our own homes and our own families. They play out in our otherwise happy lives, in the early morning silence, behind closed doors.

I don't have an answer to this. I love my husband, I love my family, I love my work. And yet: enough. I'm tired of struggling for partnership. I'm tired of justifying my needs. I'm tired of competing and negotiating and strategizing for a good marriage. I am straight-up, unapologetically tired.