Wisdom

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

-Thomas Merton, "Thoughts in Solitude"

Blessed by those who have lived more life than me; who have offered the world their wisdom. I take this bit of wisdom to heart this quiet morning with my coffee and baby boy.

For When you Don't Feel Awesome

Every night as I tuck my 2 year old daughter into bed I say the same few sentences to her:

You are beautiful. You are smart. You are special. You are awesome. You're the best daughter in the world.

And each night, without fail, she repeats each sentence in confident agreeance.

I am beautiful. I am smart. I am special. I am awesome. I'm the best daughter in the world.

I pray she holds these phrases close as she navigates her way through this world.

But do I hold these phrases close?

Could I say these things about myself without shyly lowering my head after each one?

What about on those days, weeks, months, when I don't feel awesome.

Awesome is defined as "inspiring awe."

Do I really believe I inspire awe in others, that I feel it in myself? It's hard to feel awe-inspiring when you're going through the motions.

So, how do I stop going through the motions? How do I remember my own awesomness and let it exude?

How do I confidently respond to that phrase?

I am awesome.

First, I need to say it. Not in some, oh man, check me out, everyone. If you haven't noticed my awesomeness then, man, you're missing out.

I need to say it in an understanding that I was created to be awesome, to pursue awesomeness. Then I need to believe it.

I am thankful for this girl; who believes without a doubt in her own awesomeness.

Quarter Life

Lately I've had a feeling of unrest creeping up inside of me. My soul is shaky and I'm afraid it's showing in my stride. I try and walk carefully, thinking about each step before I take it, but I'm still landing a bit unbalanced.

I've been struggling through the why of this for the last week or so and I've concluded that I'm having a bit of an identity crisis.... a quarter life crisis if you will.

I'm 27 years old, a mother of two, a wife of 4 and a half years, a teacher still fresh in her career and an American living in Mexico, speaking imperfect Spanish on a daily basis. I'm making dinner, doing dishes, letting laundry build up, grading papers, dealing with students, attempting to grow a 2.5 year old and care for an infant, all the while trying not to forget that I have a husband who needs time and attention and a marriage that needs looking after.

BAM.

There's more, but I'm tired of thinking about it all. The part of that short paragraph that has been pulling at me over the last few months is the 27-year-old with 2 kids part. 

I'm young. I see my friends who are the same age living the single life, working through new living situations, new jobs, finding their niche; exploring, discovering who they are.

I see other moms out there living this so called "mom life." Most of them stay home. They are caring for their kids, cleaning the house, finding new recipes on Pinterest; fully occupied with caring for their family.

Neither of these people are me and yet, I so badly want to fit into one of these categories.

The thing is, I am not a single 20-something finding her niche. I am not a stay-at-home-mom, focused fully on caring for her family. I am this 20-something working mom.

I love my kids. I love my husband. Sometimes I wish I could go out all night and not have to worry about the next morning, or the 3am feeding. 

I like to look at recipes on Pinterest and write down a weekly meal plan with a hint of hope that those meals might actually get made (they often don't). 

The truth is, I envy my single friends. They have so much room to discover who they are; to spend the careful time it takes to reflect, to grow. 

I envy my mom friends who seem so confident in their role as mother, wife, homemaker.

Sometimes I wonder what I am doing wrong.

When saying all of this to my husband the other day, he simply said, yeah, but we're not any of those things. We aren't the norm. We're the exception.

He lit up as he said this. 

He went on to say, we live in Mexico, we visit ancient ruins, see swarms of butterflies over the weekend. This is our life.

He loves our life.

Why am I having such a hard time feeling the same love.

Don't get me wrong. I love my kids deeply. They are a part of me; a limb, my heartbeat.

I love my husband deeply. He is my adventurer; my handholder.

But I want to feel the love for my life. For where I am and who I am. 

If I'm completely honest, I'm just not there right now. I'm in process. 27 is young to know who you are and where you fit.

I'm still trying to figure it out; actually I feel like I'm just starting to try and figure it out. I have this urge to know, or at least to have an idea.

For right now I'm unsteady. I'm working through it, and I know that's OK. I'm allowed this time, as long as I use it wisely; productively. Time is not something to be taken lightly. 

So I'll use it. I will take on it's responsibility and begin to find my niche.

Running a Marathon

Currently, life feels like a marathon.

I've never run a marathon, but I've talked to people who have. They say that they make it all right through the first 23 miles or so, but that once they hit the last three they feel like it just might be impossible to go on.

Their bodies begin to shut down and each stride is like another mile in of itself.

Right now I feel like I'm running my last three miles.

My body wants to give out and my muscles are aching.

I remember this feeling during the first few months after Isabela was born. She had colic and would cry for hours on end with no end in sight; all while James and I took turns trading off rocking and bouncing every 15 minutes.

While the crying is less this time around, the three mile stretch is still before us. Two kids is so much harder than one.

They tell you this, but those naive one-child-parents never seem to believe it. I know. I was one of them.

Two full-time working parents and one who's finishing a masters degree adds another layer of exhaustion to the run.

I'm not sure what it is that gets runners to push through these last three miles.

The fact that they're so close.

The intrinsic motivation that tells them to go, go, just a little bit further.

I'm straining to find that motivation.

Go.

Go.

Just a little bit further.

Because it does eventually get easier. The run eventually becomes a walk. Your body will adjust and cool down.

In the mean time, loved ones will cheer from the sidelines and someone will offer you water as you pass them by.

If we're smart we grab that water and soak in the cheers.

                                                     How amazing are these faces

Painting Pumpkins

www.mysweetsavannah.blogspot.com

It's the first day of October and every blog you read right now has something to say about fall.

Fall is the season that gets even the anti-domestic woman into some kind of pumpkin painting, mantel decorating, pinterest-obsessed frenzy. I admit, I somewhat fall into this category.

The thing is, I lose steam pretty quickly, as in, I was super excited to try out a pinterest idea a few days ago, and now as I sit here with my oldest at preschool, a sleeping infant next to me and a pile of laundry to tackle, I've suddenly lost all desire to accomplish said project.

I hop back and forth between wanting to be some domestic goddess and just wanting to watch a movie with a cup of coffee in hand. I only get so many opportunities for the coffee that when I have a moment or two of down time it tends to win out.

I keep reading blogs about how having a put together organized home with scented candles lit and contemporary Christian music playing in the background seems to create a comfort that benefits the whole family (I may have added the Christian music thing; it just seemed fitting).
And this concept attempts to pull me in. But it just doesn't seem to stick.

My desire for a comfy put together home with cute cheveron painted pumpkins on my front table looses it's allure when I realize that my 2-year-old will just think it's a new toy to play with and my husband won't even notice.

So are the pumpkins just for me?

As for a comfy home, I have a 2-year-old who thinks our stained second hand couches are like fluffy clouds she gets to sink into while watching Elmo and a husband who enjoys the fact that he can put his feet up without worrying about getting anything dirty.

We have a dog who gets to lay next to us on the couch and an infant who has no idea what a couch is anyway.

So I guess my house is already put together, just not at face value.

This fall I'm choosing to kick that domestic goddess to the curb and embrace the comfort my family creates in my home sans scented candles and contemporary Christian music.

Home

We are home.

Our family of four is snug in our little casa and it feels so good.

We are so in love with our little guy, it's unbelievable. I knew all along this feeling of love would come, that it would be possible to love another child as much as I loved my first, but to actually see it and feel it happening still swells my heart.

We are so thankful that things went so smoothly this time around.
Our little story goes like this:

We arrived to the hospital early Saturday morning, the 8th, for our scheduled c-section. We checked in, I was prepped for surgery and wheeled into the operating room. James was right there with me, holding my hand, and an hour later, Morgan arrived.

He came out screaming and continued to do so while the doctors cleaned him up and swaddled him. We got to meet out little guy at 8:55am. He came to 6 pounds, 7 ounces and 19 inches tall.

They took Morgan to the nursery and I was taken to recovery for a couple hours. Once I got back into my room they brought us the baby and James, Morgan and I enjoyed our first hours as a threesome.

My recovery went so well this time. I was definitely worried because when I had my emergency c-section with Isabela, my recovery was terrible. I developed an infection while in the hospital which not only created great amounts of pain for me, but put stress on our newborn.

This time, though, I was able to get my anesthesia out on the first day and start walking around. We only needed to stay two nights and then got to come home.

I am now resting upstairs, as I am only allowed to go up and down the stairs one time a day. I am still in a bit of pain, but it is completely tolerable. I can feel myself healing and getting better as each day passes.

Though he is only 4 days old, Morgan has been such an easy baby. He sleeps most of the time, but has his moments of awake when he opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. I absolutely love these moments when I can see his beautiful eyes.

So far, he only cries when he is hungry and once fed, he's content and calm. It's incredible!
After experiencing colic with Isabela, James and I feel like we are in a dream with this boy. It can't really be this easy... although I shouldn't speak too soon, he's only 4 days old after all.

We are all doing so well and are getting adjusted to life as a family of four. Isabela is adjusting as well and has good moments and some hard ones. It is hard for her not to have me hold her and it is hard for me not to. I am used to being so active with her, so this is a change for both her and I. But, as her daddy explained it, mommy has an owie and has to rest right now. That seemed to make sense to her and she has been doing better with it.

I will end this post with a beautiful moment that happened this morning. James was holding Isa's hand to take her to school and before she walked out the door she stopped, let go of his hand, ran over to Morgan and gently kissed his foot, then ran back to her daddy, grabbed his hand and said bye bye before heading out the door.

My heart is full.

You're Coming

Baby Boy,

You're coming.

There's no denying it.

Not that I was denying it, but for some reason I hadn't let it sink in until now, about a week before you're scheduled to arrive.

I'll be honest, I was worried about my lack of excitement for your presence.

I was worried that my heart was already as full as it could possibly be with the love I have for your daddy and your sister.

I remember with your sister how I would sit in her room for hours just looking around, folding her clothes. I was in awe of this being.

I realize now that some of my lack of excitement comes from a lack of time or energy. I don't have the luxury of sitting in your room for hours staring in wonder.

Instead, my wonder over you has come about by holding my newborn nephew, your cousin, in my arms last week.

As I held this tiny baby boy in my arms, I felt it. This longing to meet you, to hold you, to begin this journey in knowing you.

I can feel my heart expanding; making room.

It's creating a space just for you. It has your name and shape in it.

I can already see your brown hair, your wrinkled newborn skin, your grey eyes.

Those tiny toes that don't look possible.

Morgan, my boy, you are so loved by your mamma. You are so cherished by your dada.

You are so anticipated by your sister.

I thank God for this ability to love more; for the heart's ability to grow. It's incredible.