Do what's best--then do what works.

One of my best friends from college, Emily, and I had this motto: "When in doubt, do nothing."

This motto served me very well in college. When aren't sure if you should drunk dial that guy you met yesterday, don't. When you aren't sure if you should do that shot of Jim Beam when you have class at 8 am, don't. When you aren't sure if you should spend your last $5 on a forty of beer and some cheeseburgers, don't.

 The motto didn't always work the way it was intended.

I do well when I can regularly repeat a mantra to myself. The old college saying still serves me well (when you aren't sure if you should take your child out when she hasn't napped, dont.) but I got to thinking about what my "parenting" motto would be. I decided that the overall theme of my parenting journey thus far has been "Do what's best--then do what works"

I really wanted to nurse Austen for a long period of time. If I had to list my greatest disappointment to date, my nursing experience would probably rank very close to the top. I wanted to do what was best for her. I wanted us to find the perfect latch, get supply issues under control, and have that intimate bond. In reality, at 5 weeks into our journey, a lactation consultant and Austen's pediatrician urged me to introduce formula. In the end, we did what worked to keep her happy and healthy. I still have some regrets in that area, but I know that I tried with my whole heart--and then I adapted to my child's needs.

I want Austen to sit at the table every night and eat a well balanced meal. I want her to participate in our dinner time experience and be happy to be there. I want that because it is what's best. In reality, sometimes the only thing that works is standing at the kitchen counter making airplane noises while trying to shove yogurt in her mouth. But she eats, and that's what counts.

I wanted to be there for every broken heart, every scraped knee and every prize-winning smile when she is filled with accomplishment. After all, a mother's love is best. However, it's not what worked for our family. As a stay-at-home mom, I was restless and bored. I missed working. Do I necessarily think that Austen is better off at preschool? Well, more and more--I am starting think so. She is thriving there! In the end, doing what worked ended up being what was best...

I am learning not to be so hard on myself. My intentions could not be better when it comes to my family, but sometimes our execution of our goals just falls short. And that's okay. Austen is almost 14 months old and still takes a nightly bottle, still sucks a pacifier--things I swore we would be done with on her first birthday. Sure, its probably best to be done with them sooner rather than later--but I am letting go of worrying about what someone will think of me or of it's the perfect way of parenting--and learning to just do what works.

Parenting is a commitment, a life-long promise to care for someone else. It is impossible to think that we will always do what is best when in reality, it just might not work. Adaptability is our greatest ally.

When in doubt, don't give a cranky toddler spaghetti.

Let's establish some ground rules.

Okay, so Facebook has once again "improved" their layout (whatever happened to "if its not broke, don't fix it"?). It now appears that we will all be able to see not only what everyone is doing every single second, but also which activities are deemed most popular. Yaaay!?

claps for Facebook!

That being said, lets go ahead and review some Facebook etiquette:

1. I know it has been said a lot lately (my friend Liz Eagle had a pretty funny post on it). But for the love of cheese and rice, enough with the "Nine out of ten people won't repost that they love Jesus..." and "Everyone is dying of such and such disease, so repost this for awareness...". Particularly awful are the cryptic statuses about what color your bra is. Seriously, enough is enough. Jesus does not care about my Facebook status, of this I know. Facebook is a place to tell us what you are doing or how you are feeling. Not for you to tell everyone else what to do and feel.

2. Now, about your feelings. I enjoy reading about  ramblings onpolitical and ESPN-related thoughts. It gives me insight and helps me see things differently. It's okay to tell us you had a bad day at work or that you're having the best day ever because you just scored $300 worth of groceries for $.15. These are acceptable, shareable emotions. The fact that you hate your baby daddy, your boss is a total retard, or your best friend slept with yo man are not. Your drama is making my head hurt.

3. I am not even going to ask that you speak English. Just speak some semblance of a language. "If you do dis n den u say dat, itz annoying to read, ya herd?"

4. No one believes that your name is James Igotthesickestflow McDonald. So, just stop. Seriously. (I really do automatically defriend these people when I see this happening. Someone has to make a stand.)

5. We get it. You love your man. Your girlfriend is the best thing that has ever happened to you. Blah blah. Stop posting it on each other's walls every 15 minutes, look up from your phones and tell each other in person. Recognize that your Facebook interactions appear on everyone's mini-feed and sort of makes us all want to throw up in our mouths.

5. Lastly, we all do annoying things. I post an obscene amount of pictures of my kid. I could give you some excuse about how I started uploading them to Facebook to clear memory from my phone...but really, you don't care about my excuses. And I don't care about yours. So, if I do something annoying--go ahead and defriend me/take me off your feed. Now, I will be exercising the same right. Don't ask me to be your friend again repeatedly. And if we are friends in real life and you ask "did you see my post about blah blah" and I give you a blank stare...well, sorry. I just couldn't take one more picture of you posing in your bathroom mirror. No hard feelings. Sometimes (*gasp*) people make better real-life friends than Internet friends!

Lets meet at the park and discuss. :)

Yummy Mummy?

Ohmygosh. Can we talk about the park? I feel like as the air becomes crisp and Austen's sweet little jackets beg to be worn its the only place I want to be.

Weeeeeeeee!

That is, until I get there. Maybe it's just my neighborhood, but every time I walk to our local park, I feel a sense of dread when I see certain moms. I "know" them in the sense that we have all been swinging our kids side by side for a few months. Some of them know one another much better--they have kids who don the same private school uniforms, they lease the same make and model of SUV, they serve the same organic grass-fed beef. Whatever it is, they just aren't overly friendly or nice--despite my repeated attempts to make small talk.

A few days ago, I took Austen to the park. Those moms were there. I did my best to join in their conversation while also trying to make sure that Austen did not kill herself in a feeble attempt to keep up with the big kids (seriously, she thinks shes ten years old). They all gave half hearted smiles and sort of reply to my attempts at conversation. So, feeling defeated, I went and put my gal on the swings.

One of the moms broke from the crowd and came over to me. "You're a very yummy mummy", she said. Wha?! What does that mean? Then she says, "I like your daughter's pants". Oh Good! A chance to bond. "Thank you," I said, "We basically only put her in hand-me-downs..." I would have continued, explaining that I am lucky to have so many friends with such stylish children that I would be crazy to buy new things for her at this point. I couldn't finish my thought because she very condescendingly says, "Ooooh. Let me get your information. We are always looking to help someone in need and I have girls clothes her size."

Whaaaat?! Whoa, lady. I will be the first to graciously accept a hand-me-down. We aren't "in need" but we aren't rock stars either. Regardless, the point is--she jumped to conclusions about me and my child rather than simply trying to be our friend.

Austen rocking the hand-me-down pants

I thought about her comments on the walk home. Yummy Mummy? In Need? Did she feel threatened by me? Or did she feel sorry for me? I find myself increasingly frustrated over the overwhelming competition between mothers. I think that's what this, and many of my interactions with other moms, boils down to. "Oh! You have a problem? Let me be the one to fix it/show you how to do it better/brag about how I never had that problem." Its silly and ridiculous.

Why are "mom blogs" so popular? Because becoming a mother is a universal experience. We all feel the same love for our children and desire to raise them in the best way possible. Now, how that manifests itself in real life is clearly different across generations, neighborhoods and classes. Why can't we just be okay with that? Why can't we embrace the community of mothers around us and utilize the wealth of information it could serve to be without feeling defensive?

The ironic part is, the kids all play freely and without hesitation. All I am saying is, open the circle at the park. Stop judging.

I will now exit my soap box. Thank you, thank you very much.

oh...hey there!

You guys! How did I go MONTHS without posting??

Oh, I got a job and Austen turned one and started preschool and we have been trying to find a new house and oh I still have that evil dog that pees in my house?!

Gotcha. Guess I have been kind of busy. Well, have no fear...I am back! I didn't really stop writing, I just stopped editing things and putting things up here for your enjoyment. I have had a few a-ha moments in the past few days and one of them is that I really miss blogging. So, lets get this party started--again!

About the job--its awesome. It's so perfectly suited for our lives and our situation and I am infinitely grateful to be somewhere that makes me feel appreciated and also gives me flexibility.


Clearly, the dog can't be trusted to pee outside so we didn't feel very comfortable trusting her to care for our infant (toddler?! It's getting harder and harder to tell). Go figure. We opted instead to enroll her at St. Martin's Episcopal Preschool which is from 9-1. It is freakin' awesome ya'll. She LOVES her teacher, doesn't even cry when I drop her off and comes home chit-chatting like she can't wait to tell me all about her day.

After school, the world's most amazing nanny, Chelsea, picks her up and takes her home. Sometimes the go to the park and sometimes she just crashes for nap time. Regardless, Chelsea sends me updates and adorable pictures. I regularly stop and thank God for this awesome arrangement and for bringing her into our lives (thanks, Bethany!).

I struggled with this whole "back to work" thing. We didn't necessarily desperately need me to work for incomes sake (although we certainly weren't cruising along like the Jeffersons or anything). It was more that I was at a crossroads where I felt like I was missing a crucial piece of my former self--the part of me that really takes pride in a job well done and enjoys getting dressed to go somewhere every day. I recognize that for lots of women, they find that same type of satisfaction working within the home. For me, I felt like I needed that outside connection. To each their own? Doesn't mean I didn'tshed a lot of tears over leaving her with someone else. I still do.

I also feel like the stimulation Austen is getting from being around other kids was very needed. She is super busy, social, and very intelligent. I think she is thriving in an environment where she can try new things and learn from others--something I tried to cultivate when I was at home but was never able to be very consistent with.

So, there ya have it. We are all alive, well, and happy. And I am baaaaaack.

Oh, and an added bonus? Preschool keeps Austen worn out--and sleeping like a champ! :)

my 10 month old is a bully.

Dear Austen,

Today was a little difficult for us. You are walking now--everywhere. That leaves you little time for much else. You do not really want to sit down to eat, take a nap, or play with any other babies. You just want to walk. It is really sweet to watch your teeny legs carry you all over the house--but it can also be exhausting for your mommy who is quickly running out of diversions.

This morning, we went to the library where there are other babies for you to play with and room for you to walk as much as you please. Being the curious little gal you are, you wandered over to a few "big kids" playing at a train table. I know you just wanted to see what they were doing. Maybe play with a train yourself. Unfortunately, my dear, those big boys did not know what to make of your teensy self. They were not very nice to you. One of them even pushed you down. Did you cry? No, my sweet Austen, in your typical style--you got back up. You went back to that table. And you took that boy's train.

We had to leave soon after that. It appears some little boys and their mommies do not appreciate your fiesty spirit. I couldn't even scold you--there will be time to learn about sharing. I was just so proud of your determination. Please always go after what you want, ignore those that push you down, and do not ever think that you can't do something the boys are doing.

Oh, and tomorrow....lets try a nap! :)

I love you. Endlessly,

Mommy.

The scene of the crime.

Let's get real.

"When a woman has a kingdom heart, she has an active understanding of what matters most to the heart of God. She lives in the balance of passion and contentment. She learns to love well, give without regard to self, and forgive without hesitation. The woman with a kingdom heart may have a duffel bag full of possessions or enough treasures to fill a mansion, but she has learned to hold them with an open hand. Hold everything with open hands. I don't think we are ever allowed to grab hold of anything or anyone as though they matter more than the kingdom of heaven. When you hold relationships with open hands, then people come in and out of your life as gifts of grace to be cherished and enjoyed, not objects to be owned and manipulated. And then when you hold your dreams with open hands, you get to watch God resurrect what seemed dead and multiply what seemed small."

Ok, so I just stumbled upon this awesome blog and in it the Casey wrote about how she worries about how her children would be cared for if she was gone. I think this is a natural fear for any woman. She included this quote at the end of her blog, and it sang to me. I am not going to get super preachy on you. Sometimes I go to church, sometimes I dont. How I feel about God is a vibrant, colorful conversation that we can have over coffee someday. But--open hands--open hands...I needed those words, today.

Now, let me be really honest. Not only do I have this fear, I have many fears. Too many fears. Chad has to constantly remind me how fruitless my worry is. It doesn't keep me from worrying if we will ever be out of debt, if Austen is okay, if he is happy, if I weigh too much, if the floors are clean enough...on and on. After Austen was born my anxiety became unbearable. I couldn't watch thenes because I would literally bawl as I pictured myself trying to protect m sweet, new baby from the evils of the world. It was overwhelming. Being responsible for another person suddenly made me feel incapable of even going to the grocery store. It was bad.

Since that time, I have worked hard to gain perspective. I think being a stay at home makes this especially difficult. Austen is my all-day, everyday concern. I have begun to learn that having other interests can really go a long way to ease the pressure of feeling like I have to be one step ahead of the next disaster. However, sometimes I still find myself back to my old ways.

When I read the quote above, I really got it. Open hands. Ther harder I try to hold, control and perfect the things around me...the worse I feel. Holding the things that matter most with open hands means trusting god...and myself. It means believing that I can do a good job at my marriage, my parenting, my blog...whatever. And when I fall short, it is okay. Because I am not measured by the things I hold in my hands. Trying to define my life by material things or other people is a recipe for failure and I know that. It just happens so quickly. You get married, have a baby (or vice versa) and suddenly it becomes an obsession...how do I keep everyone happy, give them what they need and want, and never let them down.

The things I hold so close, particularly my sweet baby and my dear husband, are not enjoyed fully when I am worrying over them. My worry is felt by those around me and creates a cycle of anxiety. It something I need to harness. To stop. Part of that means replacing the time I spend thinking of them and worrying about petty things with writing, becoming better. That is so so scary. I know I need to write. And not two paragraph blog posts. I need to allow myself to turn off the "mommy" hat and be who I have always been. I'm not sure why this is so terrifying. Its like it if i take the time to be who I always was, I will neglect who I am now. I will drop the ball.

I have to learn balance. I have to learn release, and about the positive side of change and the unknown. I need to give myself permission to stop worrying and start really living. For Austen and Chads sake, I shouldn't just be the worrier of things. I think I feel like by doing that I am showing them love. However, I am asking them to never ever bring to light my fears--and that is an unfair expectation, particularly on a child. The only way to stop it is to have open hands. To relinquish control and spend my time growing, writing, becoming...instead of rocking in a chair of worry.

Open hands. I will try. Everyday. To let go. Let will be, be. To have open hands.

It gets easier....right?

This whole parenting business is no joke. It is hard. No, this isn't my usual rant about sleepless nights and teething monsters. As the end of year one looms, I find myself faced with transitions like formula weaning, pacifier removal, and somewhere in the not too distance future--potty training! I try to read what the experts say, ask my mom friends, ask my actual mom (she did a pretty good job). Sometimes the advice is helpful, sometimes it stresses me out even more and sometimes it just doesnt seem applicable to our lives.

I find myself wondering if it really matters if Austen is still waking for a 4 am bottle at a year or using a pacifier at 2 years. Sure, it is not ideal. But will she face a college board one day, where a solemn faced dean will profess her unworthy of further educational pursuits based on previous pacifier use? I try to reassure myself there are bigger fish to fry. Ya know, larger issues such as teaching her compassion, a good work ethic, and...the big one....sharing! Seeing as how most of these virtues are taught by leading through example, I am working on accepting that I may not always do perfectly at them either.

I will, however, always get an "A" for effort. I really do want what is best for Austen. I am learning that a great deal of parenting is about patience (which everyone told me) but i think it is also largely about seeing the big pictures. Things happen in stages. There are frustrations, concerns, and great joys. Then that stage ends and there are new wonderful and awful things to dwell on. Spending too much time worrying about doing the right thing now usual means being blindsided by the next thing. Which leads me to realize that somehow, the next 18 years are going to go by so fast--yet so so slowly.