Imperfect

I planned on going to bed early tonight, but here I sit, again, at the computer screen. I have had so many posts half-written in my head, but somehow they haven't made it onto the screen.

That seems to be happening a lot lately. I have the best of intentions, yet my follow-through hasn't been the best. I feel like I have been letting down so many people...friends, the girls, Jeff, God.

I used to think I was "anal," but with the humbling gift of children, I realized I am not at all anal -- or organized -- but I am a perfectionist. And perfectionism can paralyze you at times. You know Black Swan... that really dark, twisted movie that most people would never see again? I totally got it. Not sure I would ever see it again, but I think I was more disturbed by how much it spoke to me. Sometimes your own expectations can, well, kill you. The quest to be "perfect." It often stops me in my tracks, frozen and staring straight into the face of failure.

Real-life example: I go to Bible study on Monday nights. I am not saying this to get a notch in my belt. Actually, quite the opposite. I have been HORRIBLE about getting my lessons done. There are 5 per week and that's a lot for this season in my life. And although that might be understandable, the expectation still hovers over me...another thing that didn't get done.

It was tempting not to go tonight. I haven't done a lesson for weeks and wouldn't be able to participate. And I don't do "quiet" or "listen" well. But I went. It was our last study, and I didn't want to let myself down or disappoint my group. I made a commitment, and the least I could do was show up. Plus, I kinda wanted a Mommy night out before Jeff heads out of town for a few days.

And, of course, in all of his awesomeness, God totally spoke to me tonight. Like A LOT. He used my "listening" -- my failure to do the lessons -- to bless me. Can I tell you how much I love that about Him? How He loves me despite my many shortcomings and works to show me that my weaknesses are there to push me forward, to help me grow...not to hinder me.

To be clear, that guilt about the lessons was not Him...it was me. He, on the other hand, found a way to show me I am loved, even when I neglect to make time for the most important thing in my life. He blessed me simply because I showed up...empty-handed, yes, but with a willing heart. And truly, friends, that is all it takes.

On the way home, I ended up getting an opportunity to do something nice for two people I love very much, and it felt so good. Not just because I actually followed through on something I have been wanting to do for weeks now, but because God orchestrated a night to bless me, to encourage me. And I never even asked.

This may not be my most well-written post, nor will it have my usual "zinger" at the end, but I don't care. Today, I dedicate this post to Him. To thank Him for his love, His grace, and His patience with me as I try to figure out His will for my life. I trust that He will see my intention, and that will be enough. Tonight, I am humbled and honored to be His daughter, imperfections and all.

Standing on the Promises

I kinda wish I could have posted her naked because really, I don't give a flying fig what she is wearing right now...

SHE IS STANDING!

It is wonderful and strange and humbling and absolutely amazing to see my baby standing on her own two legs. She just looks so tall, so much older, and oh so beautiful...my heart overflows.

She may need a little help for now, but it doesn't matter. I can see it now, right there in front of me. His plan. He's whispered, painted images on my heart since we found out about our rock star, but to see it happening -- with my own two eyes -- well, it is enough to send me to my knees. Or better yet, stand in awe...with my baby.

I no longer have to imagine. It is happening.

She may always need help, but that's okay. I don't care. At least not today. This isn't about what the world thinks is "normal." None of that matters. Not anymore.

It is about what He can do. What she can do. What they will do together.

It's about seeing the miracles...whether that means beating the odds, or simply taking advantage of the medical advances our generation is blessed enough to have available.

I don't care.

SHE IS STANDING.

Making it Work...
Onesie: Carter's (Target)
T-shirt: Cherokee, Emma hand-me-down
Pants: The Children's Place, niece hand-me-down

Real

"Mommy, why are you putting on makeup?" she asks me, eyes wide.

I am finally getting to me. Everyone else clothed, fed, washed. I decide to put on some mascara in an effort to make an effort. Or maybe it's because the mom I will see when I drop off Kendall at her playdate is 10 years younger than me.

Through the mirror, I see that Brooklyn is still happily playing with the plastic top from my mousse and some other random blocks/toys I sprawled on the bathroom floor. Please don't hit your head on the tile. But I let her play because I know I should.

The question is still there, hanging...waiting for an answer. She asks me again, although I have not forgotten.

"Mom-meeeee, why are you putting on makeup?"

I wonder why parenting has to be so hard. Such a simple question, yet it has my head spinning. I want to be honest, yet carefully word the answer so that an impressionable young female heart isn't given the wrong message.

Why AM I putting on makeup? I guess it is a good question after all.

I muster up an answer that I am sure is all sorts of wrong, but it's all I got: "Because it makes Mommy feel good. I don't have to put it on. I just I want to."

It seems to appease her, and she disappears into my closet. I continue applying the mascara, now annoyed that they can't seem to design a brush that will actually separate my lashes without clumps.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

"Look, Mommy!" she giggles. One of her famous shoe fashion shows. Today, she's chosen the camel booties that I bought 8 years ago  -- pre-kids and when I worked full time and spent way too much money at Ann Taylor and Nordstrom. I'm still not sure if they will "pass" this season as booties, or if they will look like I am trying too hard and missed.

She shuffles past Brooklyn, who I now see has opened a tampon and is sucking on it. I take it away. Kendall disappears back into the closet.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Now, it's the purple boots my Mom bought me 5 years ago when I wanted something that made me feel like I wasn't a Mom. Not that I don't loving being a Mom. I just don't want to necessarily look like a Mom. Well, I guess I just want to look like a trendy Mom. Or maybe I just don't want to look old.

Emma now enters the bathroom and asks me for the millionth time if it's time for her play date. I instantly feel guilty that I forgot she was home. Then I feel guilty that I am dropping her off at a play date when she has the day off. And then I feel guilty that Kendall also has a play date on the same day. I didn't it really plan it that way. It just happened. I hosted the last two here, but I still feel bad. They are both beyond excited, which only makes me feel a little better.

The Mommy clock is ticking, and I'm starting to lose them. Brooklyn is trying to army crawl to me -- Please, please don't hit your head -- and Kendall is whining about snack. I reach for my cell phone, which is now my watch, and see that I've spent a whopping 15 minutes getting ready yet I've only managed makeup and clean teeth.

I look in the mirror, grimace at my hair, and throw it into a ponytail, deciding that I can get away with it because of the mascara.

But then I put on some over-sized earrings and grab my riding boots, just in case.

Ready for some skin!

We like purple and all -- and hot pink was fun -- but we prefer to go "au natural" -- if you know what I mean. Casts off tomorrow!

Woo-hoo!!!

(Is it me, or could you just eat her?!)

Tug, Tug, Tug

This one is growing up way too fast, and I am trying hard to figure out how to let go while still staying close.



This one cracks me up, but has a sensitive heart that I pray we are filling much more than we are hurting.



This one is giving me more strength these days than she will ever realize, and I am convinced now more than ever that she was meant for me -- and not the other way around.



My three loves, pulling my heart strings in all sorts of directions but somehow holding me together; tugging and mending, just enough so that the love overflows.


*****
(Linking up to Small Style at Mama Loves Papa)

Making it work...
Emma: cardigan and belt- Target; jeans- Gap

Kendall: coat- Target, Emma hand-me-down; cords- Kohls, Emma hand-me-down; shoes- Koala Kids, friend hand-me-down

Brooklyn: dress- Old Navy, Kendall hand-me-down; leggings- Gymboree, niece hand-me-down; hat- gifted,  Kendall-hand-me down

Unwritten

It's almost nap time, so we head over to the white rocking chair to read. I don't need the squeek, squeek as we rock to remind me that this is where I have read to two other wiggly babies. The memories of three sets of little fingers eagerly turning the pages, the smell of the tops of their heads...they are treasured and locked up tight in this Mama's heart.

I reach into the book bin and pull out one my favorites, Goodnight Moon. This is our second copy; the first one worn and torn, chewed and ripped -- just the way it should be.

I open up this newer copy, and I am taken back by what I see. The black letters are loud against the white inside cover:

To: My Baby

Love: Mommy

Merry Christmas! 
12/25/09

I now remember that this is the copy I purchased right after we found out I was pregnant with Brooklyn. My first Christmas gift to her.

As I lightly stroke the inscription, I realize the words were written before we knew about Brooklyn's diagnosis. A small window of time that takes effort to recall...maybe because it hurts, maybe because I feel guilty going there. I'm not sure.

I search my heart to remember... the surprise of the news, the anticipation of telling the girls, my own naive expectations. It feels strange to go there, almost uncomfortable. I feel a loss, yet I feel no regret.

I marvel at the history behind the words -- the irony of their permanence. Words intended to never to be erased, never changed, never forgotten. Their boldness telling a story within a story. Their placement making more sense now than when I first wrote them. At the beginning...before the real story begins. A story I couldn't possibly have written, yet one He already knows. He has always known.

I feel the scrape of Brooklyn's hot pink casts on my knee, her impatience growing as she grabs at my hand, desperately wanting to turn the pages. I kiss the top of her head, sniff its fragrance, and begin to read the story.

"In the great green room..."

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD,  “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Jeremiah 29:11

(Linking up again to Just Write...)

Capture

You know what I love about life? That once in a while it smacks you upside the head to remind you that you need to just CHILL.

Case in point: Halloween afternoon I was desperately trying to get a decent photo of all three girls together. Getting all three to look at the camera and smile at the same time was darn near impossible. Brooklyn was NOT happy, Emma kept trying to make her happy, and Kendall can't smile without looking like her eyes and teeth are in the process of exploding out of her head. Needless to say, I was annoyed and -- (a-hem) -- I let them know it. Not my finest Mommy moment.

Later, after combing through a bazillion shots on my camera, searching for a decent photo to post on Facebook, I remembered I took a few with my phone. And here is what I found...

THIS, my friends, is what I should have been trying to capture. Look at them...loving each other, interacting, having fun. THIS is what I want to look back and remember.

Lesson learned (again). Next time, Mommy plans to forget about the 432 so-called "friends" and join in on the fun that is happening RIGHT IN FRONT of her, with the three most awesome people in her life.

Have a great weekend, everyone. I hope you take the time to enjoy the awesome people in your life!

Linking up with Small Style at Mama Loves Papa (a.k.a. "Making it Work"):
Emma-      Jasmine outfit: borrowed from my niece; wig: Target
Brooklyn-  infant fairy costume gifted from Auntie Sha <3
Kendall-    ballet recital hand-me-down from Emma; ballet shoes: Payless

Enough

I sit here doing bills, and I wish 

there was more.

Yet I know

there should be less.

I hate this part of life. I wish

it all could be swept under the rug and forgotten so we could just

enjoy.

But would I enjoy? Or would I too take that for granted?

There is so much I want for us, 

for this world.

Yet there never seems to be enough.

But maybe,

maybe 

there is.

Linking up to Just Write (and inspired by the ever-beautiful Stephanie.)

"Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?"

Matthew 6:26