My first.

My sweet princess Kin,

"You're my favorite baby in the whole world" is not something you're going to hear me say anymore, though it is hard not to keep thinking it. For 3 years you have been undoubtably, and it's hard to adjust, even for me. Now you will be my favorite big sister or my favorite 3 yr old in the whole world.

You, you, you. You're the one who burst my heart wide open. You taught me what wild, uncontrollable, unlimited, unconditional love feels like. The second you took your first breath I was so in love with you. It was an unfamiliar love, one that no matter what happened, what you did, how bad I hurt, I would always love you. From the moment I held you in my arms for the very first time I began to live for you. I found unconditional love. You, Quinn, you made me mommy.

And even though you will no longer be my only child, or even my only babygirl, you will always be my first.

You're the first one to make me forget myself. I remember biting down on wash-clothes when I had to feed you for the first 6 weeks. Tears would stream my face as you would eat and I would weep as I wiped the blood from my skin when you were done, but I wouldn't give up on you, on us. You needed me in that way and it was something only I could give you. I was there for you then, I always will be. You were the first person I ever said "I love you" to when those words held a love that had been untouched, a unknown yet perfect love. You were the first to ever call me momma, to hold my face in your little hands and say, " I love you", and to tell me "I'm beautiful" out of the blue bringing me to tears when I was having a bad day. You were the first to give me proud mommy moments and you were the first to believe I'm perfect when I'm so far from. Quinn you are the purest, most sincere, love.

With you, I made my first-time mom mistakes, like letting you roll off the bed onto the floor (or was that aunty Kennz :D). Who knew you could roll? Thank you for not getting hurt and also for not holding a grudge.

Our baby sis is coming soon, and while you may not be my only princess anymore, you'll always be the one who knows what it's like to have my undivided attention. Because how do I ever stop myself from thinking about you? For 3 years its been you and me. I go to bed at night exhausted from a busy day with you - you are such a social diva - and I wake up in the morning to your shining eyes, two kiki's, susu'd smile climbing up onto my bed for snuggles and giggles. Before you, I hated mornings. Now I'll lay in bed 20 mins after I'm awake just waiting for you to come in. You are the best part of my morning. Please understand that the extra-extra long mornings in bed, snuggles, and tears these last couple weeks are because I'm a little bit scared. How will I ever love someone else the way I love you. I'm not ready yet to share "our time." Once it changes I will never get back what I have now with you, so yes, I'm holding onto every moment with you just a little bit tighter and loving just you for a little bit longer.

This realization gives me the guilts, but then again, your sister will have the best of all. I can't imagine she will ever be bored or lonely for long — not with you and your unlimited repertoire of songs, dance moves, princess dresses, concerts and magic tricks. I can't wait to watch her watching you. Not only are you my first, but you are her first sister too. You cry when I leave just the same as she will cry when you leave. She has watched us in heaven and choosing me and daddy as her parents is our blessing, but choosing you as her sister and as her best friend is her blessing. It proves she is one smart cookie. You light up the world around you, you're our sunshine, my Kin.

You. You were my first newborn, infant, toddler, and the one who continues to surprise me every day. You're the intrepid explorer who pulls me by the hand into a better future. You're in my prayers every second of every day. You're in all my thoughts and dreams, and every wish I make upon a star. You were the perfect addition to my fairytale 3 years ago and you are growing into the most kind hearted, loving, princess. I'm so proud of who you are.

Be patient with me as we start this new chapter in our lives together. Try not to get frustrated and upset with me when I'm feeding baby sis instead of playing princesses with you. Know that I will always make special time for you everyday. I will punish you and baby sis differently as she doesn't understand yet, but because I'm stern with you doesn't mean I love you less. Know that, because of the ever-expanding place in my heart that you made there will be more than enough love for both of you when she joins our family. You will never have to share my love that I have for you. I loved you first and that place in my heart will always be yours.

You. You. You. Quinn. You will always be my first.

Pwincess Kinny

Getting my daughter dressed to go out in public is one of my least favorite parts of my morning routine. That was, until nap-time this particular Thursday, and my heart broke a little bit as I realized my parenting fail.

I carried a small load of clothes into her "frozen themed" bedroom to put away while she slept so peacefully. Even to this day I could sit and watch my baby whos-not-such-a-baby anymore sleep. Minutes would turn to hours and I would be overwhelmed with pure unconditional love as I stared at such perfection. Today however, wasn't that day. So much to do during nap-time to prepare for evening. As I placed the pile of clothes at the foot of her bed I began to fold the pieces and sort them into their baskets to place into her dresser. Kitty cats, ti-dye, tutus, princess dress, after princess dress, after princess dress, and frozen...FROZEN....FROOOOOZEN, everything. I glanced over at the items in her closet, and notice the items at the bottom of her baskets. All still brand new, half never worn even once. My absolute favorite pieces of her wardrobe. The ones never running through the wash, because let's be honest, she refuses to wear them.

When I found out that I was pregnant with a little girl, I just knew that all of my tiny baby girl fashion dreams to make her exactly like me were about to come true. I couldn't wait for the pink Jordan's, nikey sweat suits, matching hats and toques and leggings with miniature knee high boots. My baby girl would be the best dressed walking Pinterest sporty-girl fashion board. Hell I even named her Quinn, no Quinn in my mind wears princess dresses and high heel slippers, no!!! Things of that sort are meant for Graycie's, Belle's, Sienna's and Gabrielle's, not QUINN'S!

Except… No. That didn’t happen.

I’ve said it before, and I will say it again. My girl is strong-willed. She knows her own mind, and when she sets it to do something, it is

hard
impossible to deter her.

When she got to the age where she wanted to be involved in choosing her outfits, I knew that there would possibly be a few instances where she might not love what I had selected for her to wear. But I was not prepared for this to happen every blessed morning. Can I give you an illustration? Do you know how frustrating it is to tear off a piece of saran-wrap and keep it from sticking to itself while you attempt to cover an iced cake. It just keeps folding over and getting twisted and its just so frustrating. Right? Then you finally get it to lay right and it gets caught in the icing, so you quickly lift it and boom... up comes the icing and a nice chunk of cake with it. So much for cake presentation, good thing the BBQ is family only this time and they love you no matter what! Let’s just say that every day getting my Quinn dressed felt a little something like that… if you were trying to tear a sheet of saran-wrap and cover your iced cake… in a windstorm.

Maddening.

Every day was the same. I would go to her room, pick out something totally cool… outfits and name brands that I had spent good money on placing in her closet… and she would examine them, grab them, throw them and declare, "No Momma, Pwincess dress!”

But… here’s the thing. I’m the momma. I get the final say. Right? And I say these are cute clothes. These are tiny converse and an olive colored military jacket, oversized sweaters and cute leggings, Sweatsuits and Jordan's…

These are NOT A T-SHIRT WITH ELSA PAIRED WITH A PINK RUFFLE SKIRT, LEGGINGS AND SUNDAY SHOES OR ONE OF THE MILLION DISNEY PRINCESS DRESSES WITH SLIP ON SLIPPERS THAT WERE ONLY EVER SUPPOSED TO BE USED FOR DRESS-UP PLAY.

Doesn’t she know that I understand a little bit about style and would just desperately love for her to look… the way I want her to look?!

But something happened as I stared at her while folding her clothes I have loathed for so long. I realized my daughter is 2.5 and every morning I wake up and try to force her to look like… everyone BUT herself.

The outfits I pick out for her are no more Quinn than the Elsa costume I just hung next to them in her closet.

And so I’m done. Not because I’m frustrated. But because I should be the first person to help her find ways to be more herself instead of the first person to force her to look like everyone else. Do you know what I mean? I want her to know that her opinions matter. Who am I to break her little spirit? If I hear what she has to say now and listen to who she says "Kinny" is, then maybe I'll know how to help her when it's something bigger than wearing a princess dress to Walmart.

Soon enough there will come a day when the opinions of others weigh a little heavier on her heart. When what others think will play a bigger part in the decisions she makes.

But I’m thanking God that today is not that day. I’m thanking God that I still have the opportunity to change my mentality and encourage her to know her own mind, to make her own decisions and to trust that she has a Momma who will walk with her through every choice she makes up ahead for the rest of her life.

Because the truth is… if she can trust me to shout, “You got this, sweetheart! You are so good at being you” now with all the frills and fancy dresses… then maybe she can remember the echo of those words and my voice cheering her on later when she is making decisions bigger than her outfit.

They say that the relationship between a girl and her momma changes over time. They warn us that one day we wont be their favorite and they wont listen and copy everything we do anymore. But for now, while her little heart is still open and she cherishes everything I have to say, I am going to be not only her number one fan in everything she does, but my own cheerleader. The way I treat myself not only paints a picture of how I see myself, but I'm putting a brush in her precious hands and teaching her how to paint a picture of herself. I'm teaching her how to see her beauty and individuality by learning to see my own. I grew up convinced I was a mixture of Cher and Shania Twain so... if she thinks she is a princess, then dammit, "Pwincess Kinny" she is.


                           

Grace he brought... but he didn't have to.

When the sun came up this morning, I was awake to see it… not because I’m an early riser, but because I had an 8am shift at work and still had lunches to make and a baby to take to her nannies before making it there. Some handle being a single parent with such grace, I however, no matter the quotes I read on pinterest am not that woman. I'll reunite with a curling iron in 15 years... Hello, ponytail and reapplication to yesterdays makeup.

It didn’t matter how exhausted I was, the morning continued on as usual undeterred by my lack of sleep. So, I did my best to keep up with it and surprisingly made it to work only about 15 mins late, record to the time before. And life went on.

I did my very best to keep everyone reasonably happy while trying to train new employees and manage the stress of broken down analyzers. I even left my house reasonably tidy and packed a somewhat healthy lunch, the day was running rather smoothly I was mind-5'ing myself… until evening… well, until about 3 o’clock.

The winds had picked up in the state of Washington and schools, business, and small clinics were closing early for the day. Before I had the chance to celebrate an early end to my work day, mother nature decided to take out the power-lines and boom, chaos commenced. A long story short, I sent everyone home and tackled the tasks set in place for "State of Emergency." My ears ringing from 3 hours of alarms, fighting back hurricane winds just to stand on my feet outside, no traffic lights and a city in pitch black. Fabulous.

So with one small child, a bag of McDonald's, and heat from the day still radiating the basement of my house, we picnicked in the dark and talked about our day. Mind you, she is two, so there was a lot of squeals, tickles and dancing--the nae nae if you must know. We used what battery was left on the laptop to watch "Frozen" and her sweet self drifted to sleep without a care. She adores the world and she adores me as her mother, no matter the storm; no matter the day.

As I laid beside my rosy cheeked angel, I got on the internet to catch up on the news. 3-5 days no power. Well, slight panic set in... No power, no hot water, no lights, no heat, nothing...just me and mine...Ha, cuz being a single parent wasn't enough of a challenge.

Morning came. House was now cold. Still no power. No shower. No food. Fridge and freezer soon to thaw with all the groceries just purchased the day before, of freakin course. As I lay there staring at my sleeping beauty I decided, for her, the day was going to be no different. We would smile, laugh, and play. I chose to be. I made myself be. I was damn well going to be happy for her sake, I had a little more left to give. I could do it. Now when we left the house I had my phone wedged between my chin and my chest, bags under my arm held there close to my body, my baby in the other cuz heaven forbid this one time she walk herself, and my foot became useful in opening and closing doors. I'm sure we looked like quite the sideshow to those watching. But friends, I did it...we did it. Evening rolled around like it always does and my number one fan fell asleep with that same sparkle that lights my life. Mother success.

I got up as it was now my turn to get ready for bed, but first let me light a fire so we stay warm, let me clean up the messy house with all my attempts to keep her busy without power, let me take the dog out (no longer can I just put him outside as a large tree took out my back fence) and then maybe, maybe I'll get to bed before 1am just to wake up every hour to put another log on. Looking across the street to those with power made me angry. I look exhausted and unshowered, I forgot to put shoes on my baby with all the extras I need now remember, we are stumbling store to store to find ice throughout the day cuz everywhere is sold out, while your sittin over there with your Christmas tree glowing. Ummm, douche bag!!! What would Jesus do, Cortney, WWJD!!!

Next morning quite like the last, just colder, still all my prayers for power unanswered. I made more of an effort to rush our morning routine so there was less time in the cold house. I was frantic. The nearly-tears, doing so much but getting nothing done, if you so look at me cross-eyed it was as if I just lost the grounders game on the playground in grade 5, yes... that was the me coming to you live that Thursday morning. That was, until...I saw him. He didn’t offer any advice or any commentary. He just walked up to my door handed me a container and said, “Pancakes for you and baby.”

I told my child to look the nice man in the eye and tell him thank you, and then I made sure to the do the same.

But the truth is, I wanted to cry, but not for the same reason as 5 minutes ago, but because kindness isn’t as common as it used to be.

There have been plenty of times when I have been out with my child, and desperate for two extra hands. When I have been in line at the grocery store checkout with a screaming baby and a cart full of items knowing that people see me, wondering if they really… see me or if they are judging the person they think they see…"It’s her fault for having a kid so young.” "Wonder where the babies dad is?" “Why couldn’t she come without her kid?” “Who brings their kid out on a cold day without shoes, is her hair even brushed?” “She doesn’t look like she can manage any part of her life. I bet she’s always this much of a disaster.” ....thinking if only someone could help me and holding back my own tears.

This guy could have kept going about his morning. He could have ignored the fact that his neighbor had no power with a small child and no one would of batted an eye.

But he didn’t.

He just smiled, and took the extra 15 minutes to cook a extra couple pancakes to bring over to 25 year old who desperately needed a reminder of love and grace.

We still have no power, but the feeling around my house isn't near as cold. I teach my child kindness by demonstrating it. I live it out. But it is so much more than that. Simply taking the time to embrace the kindness around us. Letting grace lead our day. My nug and I have been blessed with friends providing us food, shelter, showers and welcoming us into their routines to stay warm and comfortable. I'm making a point to show my daughter the kind acts done to her in her little life in hopes she will see the light in a dark place. Somewhere that I am weak, her and I can notice and grow together. “There. That is what we should do. That is the type of person we want to be. That is what matters in this world. Baby, that is what kindness in action looks like.” I was so caught up in how bad my situation sucked, I didn't see the blessings that were right in front of me. So in a season of thankfulness… in a world that seems to grow darker by the day, quite literally (haha)… I just wanted to stop and shine light on one simple moment. Today, I want to say thank you to a neighbor for making the choice and for giving me another chance to teach my child that there is always kindness… if we just take the time to notice the grace in all our unaswered prayers.

Beautiful Little Bride...

Sweet 19 year old bride with love in your eyes…What a beautiful wedding day! It really couldn’t have been better. From the temple, to church, to dinner and reception it couldn't have been more wonderful. That dress, his tux, you both looked stunning. You can’t imagine what the next 5 years will hold but you are ready to conquer the world without time to question what you are getting yourself into. You are just a baby yourself and have no idea what it means to be an adult let alone a wife... but with that handsome young man by your side officially yours forever and eternity... well, you just wait.

Beautiful little bride with life in your eyes, explore and connect as much as you can on your honeymoon! Five years from now you won’t care about the rash from the water-slides or the sore throat from nearly drowning in the wave pool, because when you have a nearly two year old toddler wrapped around your legs at all times, you will long for a day of exotic exploration and even a nap, so soak it all up!

In that first six months, you will stand with all you can for “rightness.” Don’t bother. To this day if that sweet boy standing next to you says the sky is purple, there is nothing you will be able to do to convince him that it is blue. Practice with me my dear, “Yes, what a lovely purple sky we are having today, my darling.” Let him paint the sky the way he wants and support him, right or wrong.

Pay the electric bill. He isn’t paying any bills because he thought you were… And you obviously weren’t either. It’s okay. It will last only one month. No power means no lights. Early bedtimes aren't always a bad thing. Make the most of it. Make him believe in you. Through thick and thin stand by his side. You wont be poor forever.

Oh sweet little wife with hurt in your eyes, you just wait…Try to remember that he isn’t perfect and that neither are you. You will quickly learn how to hurt each other effectively. Do not use your words as weapons. There will be no greater regret, and you will never be able to “unsay” it. Take the time to find each other and know what's in their heart. Hope will rise in your soul and joy will return to your heart. Don't fret. You will not lose your faith. There is nothing in the world you two can’t handle together. Forgiveness will be your greatest weapon against grief. Slow down. Enjoy married life. Take short trips. Explore. Enjoy each other’s company because a sweet lil angel baby is going to surprise you both.

Sweet little student wife with stress in your eyes, it will get easier. School is just one stepping stone, just one. Soon you will graduate and so will he, both with honors, celebrate. You will start to make money and all that stress and hard work, it'll pay off, just you wait, it IS worth it. Oh and all those luxuries you wanted and trips you day dreamed about- the ones all your friends had and were taking. Five years from now when they are still paying for it, you will be paying cash for that same thing 5x over again with all the interest you saved. Good job!

Sweet little momma with love in your eyes, life will never be the same. Your priorities will all change. Your attention will be on the baby. Put the baby in the crib every now and then and look at your husband, he's exhausted too, but he always saves a little love for you. Embrace the new love you discover in him. You will love him more for the way he loves your baby. Just you wait, your heart wont know how to handle all this new love, this deep never-ending love.

Sweet little Grad-School wife with hope in your eyes, there is light at the end of the tunnel. You will move across states for him to pursue his dreams. You will buy your first house and want to remodel and make it yours. Your husband will be right about just about everything when it comes to the remodeling process. Save your breath at Home-Depot. Unless of course you enjoy eating crow.

Sweet little bride, that man will put your wants above his own for years. Notice it. Love him fully, and tell him how much you appreciate him every day. He loves you so much even if he isn’t very good at “saying how he feels.” Five years from now you will realize that he has shown you with hard work and dedication just how much he adores you. Listen to his heart. Take the time to understand him. Don't let him get lost with life. He needs you just as much as you need him. Embrace working together. Celebrate success. Have common goals. Support him, he already supports you. Pray together and dream big. "Hardships prepare the most ordinary people for an extraordinary future."

Oh sweet little bride, there is so much more that I wish that I could tell you. There is so much that you couldn’t ever foresee, but 5 years from now you will love that boy more than you do on this day. You will grow up together and make the journey into adulthood holding each other’s hands. You will change almost completely from the people you are today, but, the Lord will grow you together. He will keep you together. There will be moments when you want to call it quits, when you don't even recognize the man standing across from you. You will wonder why you said, "yes" so young and question how the hell you got "here." You will cry and want to give up. You will wonder if your marriage is going to fail, and then... it won't. He will hug you and remind you of God's promises for your lives together. You will find peace in him arms. After all those fights he is still your heaven on earth.

Sweet little momma wife, God knew exactly what he was doing when he gave you that precious boy standing next to you. Trust God. Love your husband. Enjoy every minute of the journey… because 5 years from now, you will love him more than you ever thought you could and you will wonder how those 5 years could have possibly passed so quickly. Oh sweet little bride you just wait.... Your dreams have only just began....

Happy Mother's Day...

The coo's, the laughs, the gibberish, it all makes perfect sense to me now. The sweet little angel that gave me the title "Momma" that short 19 months ago may not be able to structure a perfect sentence, but I understand her. I know, "who-who" means Soother. I know, "yawket" means chocolate. I know, "ew shew" means shoe-shoe. I know that, "bah bah" means bottle. I know, "awe tucks" means awe schucks, and I know that, "I wub bew" means I love you and behind that “I love you” there is so much promise and such a deep unfathomable significance in her little heart that she can’t yet express to me. 

Nobody ever told me how hard and exhausting motherhood was. How much sleep I would lose, how much worry I would feel, how I would second guess my every decision, how every night I would fight the same battle and make promises to try harder, to love more, and have more patients. Yes, sweet mother, I see you and all you have done for me. I know you. I have become just like you.

I know I made you cry... a lot! You cried when you found out you were pregnant with me, but you fought for me. You cried when you were so brutally sick throughout your entire pregnancy, tears as to whether your body would be okay for me, you cared and loved me before anyone else had the chance to, before you cared even for yourself and your health. You cried when you first held me and in that moment you found pure happiness. You cried with fear as I grew. You cried with worry when I fell, there was no sound as sad as my cries or sight as horrible as tears streaming down my face. I know you did everything in your power to stop me from crying and to protect me, but when you couldn't, I know it hurt you more than it could have ever hurt me. When my heart broke, yours shattered. Your heart felt more for me than my own heart even knew existed. You felt my pain and my happiness and you shared it with me…you still do.

I know you wanted the last piece of cheesecake, but like me, as soon as those big blue eyes locked with yours and reached for the dessert, you couldn't eat it either, you wouldn’t dream of it. I know you felt happier knowing my little tummy was filled over your own. You put me first, you always put me first. You would go without food, sleep, showers, and exercise to make sure my needs were met. You babysat other kids, let them destroy your house, just to be home with me. I know at the end of the day you had no energy left for yourself, but time and time again you would wake up the next morning and do it all over again. Why? Because I meant that much to you, it was never even a question.

I know that I hurt you. I bruised your ribs when I kicked you from inside your tummy. I stretched your stomach out for nine months and made your body contract in agonizing pain all night long before I entered this world, I know it hurt. It hurt when I pulled your hair and pinched your neck and cheeks; when I scratched you with my fingernails that you tried to bite the last 5 days in a row, and as time passed and I grew older the thought of it going by too fast, hurt you too.

I know you were always afraid. From the moment I was conceived, you did all you could in your power to protect me. You were that mom who wanted to say no when people asked to hold me, and you cringed when they did, because in your mind no one could keep me as safe as your arms could. Your heart skipped beats when I took my first steps. You waited up night after night making sure I got home safe and still woke up early every morning singing, "good morning, good morning....Rise and shine..." with a smile of exhaustion that I never recognized until now. With every stubbed toe or knee scrap you were close by. You were there to kiss it better, chase away the monsters, hug away the bad dreams, hold my hair back when I was sick, you were always there, so mom, I was always okay.

I know you watched me sleep. There were nights when you were up until 3a.m. praying that I would fall asleep. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you sang to me, but you sang anyways. I know that as soon as I drifted to sleep you would stare into my crib looking down at me and in those moments you experienced more love than you knew possible and somehow you forgot about your worn-out arms and aching eyes.

I know you carried me way longer than 9 months of pregnancy. I needed you to, so you did. You learned to hold me while you cleaned. You learned to hold me while you ate. You learned to sleep in cracks with no blankets to ensure my 25 inch self had enough bed and blankets. I know your arms got tired, I know your back hurt, but you still held me, you never left me. You snuggled me, you loved me, you kissed me and played with me. I felt safe in your arms. I was happy in your arms. I knew love in your arms. So as annoyed and tired as I know you were, I thank you for holding me as long as I needed you to.

I know you think you are not perfect. I know you are your own worst critic. You see all your flaws and hate yourself for them. You are the hardest on yourself when it comes to you. I know you wanted to be the perfect mom, to do nothing wrong, and in my eyes you were all that and more. I know you are still trying to forgive yourself for the mistakes you thought you made. I know you wish there are things you could do differently if you could just go back in time, but you can’t so be kind to yourself mom, you did the best you knew how to do, and your best was more than enough. Being a mom is one of the hardest jobs anyone can do. I know I tested you to your very limits sometimes. I know you cried, you hurt, you tried, you failed, and you learned, but I also know you experienced more joy than you ever knew possible and you have felt more love than your heart knew how to contain. I know you would do it all again no questions asked because as much as I wanted you, you chose me, mom, you CHOSE me. I know that I am worth it to you and I know how much you love me because I have found this love myself. Becoming a mother has stretched my patients to wits end. I have learned to balance this new form of love, one that is so unfamiliar, fragile, and rare. I have found inner strength and succeeded in ways I once failed. I have learned to stop trying to make happy, happier, because doing nothing is often doing everything. Finding beauty and peace in chaos and love in the simple things. Because after all no matter what, “as long as you’re living your baby I’ll be.”

Happy Mother's day Momma, you are the real hero and I love you. xox

Little Yellow Tank Top

Little yellow tank top that is folded nicely in my drawer. The one I have worn once, nearly brand new, that “perfect gift” from my husband. Tight and curve fitting, yellow and flashy, a perfect size zero. The last thing I want to do is wear you to the gym, trying to be sexy and slim, reality… confused with large school bus!

Reminiscence with me: my daughter is now 19 months old and I no longer can use the phrase, “I just had a baby” to make light of my bodies insecurities. I go to the gym at least 5 times a week and have for the last 7 months. I see subtle changes in myself, but nothing I would call Guinness about. My husband, knowing my determination and hearing my complaints, always thinks of me on his trips to the store. More times than not he will return with a sports bra, water bottle, or something just for me because he was thinking of me, really though, he is the perfect man. This same perfect man is also the culprit responsible for little yellow tank top. He missed the memo in, “yes, you can buy me a tank top so long as it’s not yellow, not little, not tight… baggy tee will do.”

I did not feel like picturing my body in anything that showed it off. It took me weeks before I even tried it on for the first time and even then I still had a 15 minute pep talk to myself before being burned by my reflection. Mirror, one; me, zero. While the scale tells me a number pretty close to what I was before my baby, my mirror hasn’t gotten the memo. The mirror still shows me a body that Hollywood would frown upon. I have grown and shrunk and stretched and lost and gained and dropped and… well, had a baby.

I’m a momma now.

Yes, I would have been much more comfortable in pants and a long flowy shirt and there would have been nothing wrong with that. There is never anything wrong with putting on what makes me feel good and wearing it proudly no matter my shape or size at the time. So, as much as I wanted to tell my husband, “Look, buddy, that’s not happening, so just forget about it, I’m not wearing that shirt to the gym with you.”

I stopped and I listened to his heart for a minute.

See, while it’s so easy for me to see all of the things that have changed, and all the areas that I need to “fix” that sweet husband of mine apparently doesn’t see things the way that I do when he looks at me. He has this crazy way of still seeing me… His wife. He still sees the woman that he fell in love with, and apparently, he is still attracted to her – baggy t-shirts and extra baby fluff. He knows that my role has changed, but when he looks at me I’m still Cor, not mommy. He sees the woman he fell in love with, the woman who said, “Yes” to becoming his wife. I don’t think he knows how to tell me, “Hey, remember when you were just mine?” And honestly? It feels so hard to remember how to be his. Half the time I don’t even remember how to be me. Putting myself last over and over again and being reminded by the mirror how different I am… sometimes, I don’t even know where to start.

So as I stared at myself in the mirror one last glance, I decided for today I would make that choice to be his. Wear what he picked because after all he picked me too. Because while I could have pushed my husband away and left him always wondering but never asking about that dang little yellow tank top, I chose to remember him, to wear it for him. And just as I chose that, I chose to remember a woman worth caring about, who has a husband that loves her and who is a person beyond being a Momma. I chose to remember that I am worth my own attention. And I chose to remember that if my husband thinks I’m attractive, then I am. I am not my competition. And sometimes showing him and reminding myself means wearing that little-yellow-really tight-tank-top, plus…the mirror said I looked more like a taxi van over a school bus anyways. #winning

Only gym pic I have. God forbid that lil yellow tank top! :-)

...Just Dance!!!

It was Thursday just after lunch… I was busy cleaning the chicken nuggets and veggie straws off the table and highchair. My dishwasher was full of clean dishes that needed to be put away and my sink was full of dirty dishes that needed some serious attention. Egg-whites dried to the counter tops, bread crumbs from bagels, dried grated cheese stuck to the counter keeping company with bills that needed sorting and a dozen odds and ends that don’t seem to ever find a proper home.

My attached living room was equally chaotic. There’s a couch somewhere under all that laundry from the last trip to Canada, shoes, jackets and socks littered the living room floor, pages from books ripped out from the seam, and a million DVD’s scattered about trying to find Elmo. The disarray was finally accessorized by toddler toys everywhere and a spilled boxed of Q-tips from this morning’s learning game.

My silent prayer: “Dear God, do not let my doorbell ring right now.” …Because, Lord help me, I would have to lie. I would be that awkward woman with only my head peeping out the door, trying to hold a barking dog back and a baby fighting to go “yowe-yide” …I would have to continue to make up some crazy excuse for why my house looked the way it did. I can only be “in the middle of a deep cleaning project” or “organizing the toy baskets” so often before people realize that maybe my house always looks like this. I swear the UPS guy, or visiting teachers, or neighbors bringing cookies only ever happens on days like today. Days when the baby is screaming and crying because she fell in the backyard tears marking her dirt smeared face and clothes covered in chalk. Don’t even get me started on my attire. I look like a comic strip character, not superwoman or catwoman, but like more ogre-ish with sticky popsicle sticks stuck to my backside. Seriously, I'm racking my brain and checking appts on my phone, “is there any reason I should be expecting company, because with the house like this… there is definitely someone on their way.”

My daughter wants a yawkit (chocolate, a girl after my own heart). I grab the big ol’ bag of M&M’s from the cupboard. I buy the biggest bags I can get at Costco or Walmart (thank you Easter) and refill little containers for her and for her diaper bag, saving grace friends, saving grace! She is on her tippy toes impatiently reaching for the bag as I turn to grab a little container to pour some into. What’s one second? I give her the bag to stop the whining and reach for said container. MISTAKE! Stop, never hand a one year old a large OPEN bag of M&M’s. Taste the fricken rainbow; floor, counters, and carpet!!! Visible floor space has quickly vanished and my anxiety level is through the roof. No end in sight. Tears.

Also, we need to be clear about something right now… My Pinterest boards say I’m the cleanest, most organized, best cooking, good lookin’ momma around which is all around like, not true at all. Jesus would have some serious transformations if I were to be my computer self. Anyways, long story short, I like a clean house but mix a busy toddler with my top-knot and my house quickly becomes a hurricane until nap time. Untidy does not stress me out. Mess does. This mess… DOES!

Top it all off, my sweet girl wants me to play and I am “one more second’ing,” her… Great, add that stress and guilt to my weepy self. It’s a good day.

So, I do what I always do when I am overwhelmed. I plug in my iPhone and play music through the blue tooth speaker. As I turn round and round trying to gather up spilled chocolate, I am face to face with my sweet one year old holding my hat in the air wearing my shoes. “momma…” I throw away the handful of M&M’s and bend down to put my hat on her little head. A closed mouth kiss, cuz she is a big girl now, and into the living room she goes squishing so much chocolate on her way it made me cringe... but if it wasn’t for the fear of melted squished chocolate I probably would of continued cleaning, not followed her, and I would of missed seeing something remarkable… something I needed to see.

She walked into the middle of our messy living room and began to dance. Her arms above her head she sways and spins, oblivious to the junk all around her. She danced without a care in the world and I just stood there unable to move watching her; my heart overwhelmed.

She didn't care that the kitchen floors were covered in chocolate. She didn't need all the clothes put away first… She just danced. And right before my eyes I witnessed a perfect picture. A picture of what God wants for us. He doesn't want us to get everything in order before we find joy. Everything doesn't need a proper place before we praise Him. He wants us, but he also wants our mess. He wants us to invite Him right into the middle of it. He knows we are not perfect, that days are hard, sometimes unbearable, and we make mistakes. He knows!!! Our joy shouldn't come from the state of a perfect circumstance. Our joy should be full and come from our hearts. So here I am, in the corner of my kitchen peeking around witnessing a perfect picture of a Christian life. It really is what you read. “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.” Finding out those ways to learn to dance through chaos with grace and love.

Because this is life… and I can promise you something… there will always be more of it.

On this day, I took a hint from my precious one year old baby girl. Motherhood isn't my job. It is my joy. It is not my obligation, but my own opportunity. And at that moment I didn't wait until the laundry was folded or the toys were picked up… I just scooped her up and… in the middle of all her dolls… with a million other things to do, together we danced. We danced like everyone in the world could see us and she allowed me to shine as she does. In that hour with tears on my cheeks and joy in my heart, we invited God into our day. Right smack in the middle of it… and the best part is… he didn't even require me to clean up before he came over!