Spinach, Flapjacks, and Colored pencils

Yesterday was a long day. After a few weeks of pain, it was at its worst in the morning. Long story short, I spent most of the day away from my boys trying to get answers, and came home with nothing but a script to manage the pain.

This morning our clocks gave us an extra hour. Our boys did not. At 5:15 they were up and ready to go. Micah was going to take them in to grocery shop so I could rest. I didn’t want to spend more time away, and went with. 6:45 in the morning, we found ourselves at the store with a few other like minded parents. It was quiet, and fun to be together. We divided and conquered, and completed the trip with window shopping in the toy aisle.

We ate breakfast at one of our favorite mom and pop shops in town. We taught the boys the penny sliding game and kept them entertained, then inhaled our coffee and eggs.

We came home, unpacked, and kept the tv off. The boys have been in coloring moods lately. So while I zombied out to Instagram pages, my sons colored quietly next to me.

I realized in that moment that these days are few. They are growing before our very eyes. I put down my phone, grabbed some colored pencils, and colored.

We talked about the colors minions usually look like, and then made up our own style. We talked about sports, about sharing, and listened to the scratches of crayons and pencil covering our pages. Calvin tore them out and with tape, hung them on our living room wall with a puff of pride in his chest.

Maybe I could have rested with that extra hour today, rest did sound nice. Or…groceries, breakfast and coloring with my three favorite fellas… well, it was a no brainer.

Time is fleeting, enjoy the moments, Even the day to day routines can be some of the most beautiful.

It’s Back.



I thought I had it under control.

  • I haven’t showered in a week.
  • I’ve been on a cleaning binge. Cleaning out, cleaning up, not sitting still for even a moment.
  • I have forgotten to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
  • I slept for two hours in the middle of the day, and woke up at 5pm thinking I could keep sleeping through the night.
  • During the week, I go to bed at 9 and by 2am I am wide awake.

I thought about this as I drove in on my weekly Saturday night solo grocery shopping trip.


I didn’t start talking to anyone about my anxiety until I was in college. After I found my faith (that’s a post for another day), I realized I needed some help and I needed an “outsider” (ie: therapist) to help me.  I went for a couple of months, and had reassurance that it was real.

I take medication for it.  I am not ashamed of that.

Lately I have had a lot going on that has been out of my control. I’ve had physical health challenges that don’t have answers, but do come with a lot of pain. I’ve had work challenges that I can’t make better by the snap of a finger. I have mom guilt for not being “present” enough when I get home from a full day in the classroom.

So my anxiety has kicked in. My personal care for myself has spiraled. I forget to take showers, to eat, and focus on trying to fix things around me. I want to be a fixer.

My physical pain is something I’ve been told “is all in my head” by a doctor over 12 years ago, and it haunts me everyday that I am in pain. When new health challenges present themselves, his voice tells me “it’s not real, you’re making it up”.

My mom guilt is my inner mean girl kicking in telling me I’m not good enough for Calvin and Miles. Miles attitude is because I am getting weak (got forbid it might actually be because he’s a 2 year old), that Calvin is getting anxiety and easily panicking because I’ve taught him to be that way….

So last night as I drove in to go grocery shopping. I checked my recent habits. I realized what was happening. I got groceries. I got home. I took a shower, I ate a dinner at 10pm. I talked. I talked to my supportive, encouraging, and loving fella. Who listened. Who offered advice.

This week I’ve set some goals:

  • I have an appointment to continue to figure out what’s going on with the pain in my body.
  • I’m going to talk to my doctor to see if starting therapy back up might be a good idea to manage my anxiety.
  • I will get my meals ready for the week, and set an alarm on my phone to remind myself to eat during the day.
  • I will exercise, and if my pain it unbearable that day, I will stretch or take a walk.
  • I will talk to someone if it gets bad. Instead of picking up a rag and cleaning, I will talk. As much as I don’t want to, I know it’s what’s best.

This isn’t something to be ashamed of. I know that now. It’s taken years, but I know it now. So if someone you know, is seeming distant, talk to them. Listen to them.

It its you….check your habits. Talk to a loved one, or, talk to a therapist. It will get better. It isn’t an easy fix, it’s always a work in progress. But don’t give up on yourself.



Mom Guilt


I thought I was doing the right thing by telling my son ahead of time that he was going to the doctor for his check-up, and that, there may in fact be shots. I forgot, the son I was telling is one giant worry-wort.

I told him the day before. As he went to bed, he got emotional, saying, “Mama…I don’t wanna get pokes, can we do it another time?”. I explained that the pokes would be quick, and getting those are a lot better than getting the sickie bugs that could follow if we didn’t get them. A four year old can’t comprehend that..but I tried anyway.

I know it’s cliché, but I really do wish there was a manual out there for parents. It’s too bad every kid, every mom, and dad are so different. What works for one family doesn’t work for all.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told him..maybe I should have blindsided him. Truth be told, I have never liked that approach, so I went with what I thought was best. Which is all we can do as parents sometimes…

So he perseverated….he was quiet, he was teary eyed walking into the office. Mom guilt set in.

“Hey Buddy, once we are done with this, lets go pick out a new monster truck, ok?!”

sniffle. “ok mom”.


Our Dr. came and went, and then the nurse came in. Cal looked at the needles, the band aids, and started crying. I held him close. Jab 1- instant screams, he tried to push the nurse man and his needle away. I had to hold his arms down…and then before he could see the second needle, I pulled his face into my shoulder to look away. Jab 2.

He wailed for about 10 minutes, we walked down the hallway. Empathetic nurses, receptionists, and patients walked by with a “good job buddy!”, “would a sucker help?”, “how about a sticker?!”. All sweet and kind people. Nothing helped. My heart (and leg) hurt for him.

He’s 4. This is only the beginning. Today was a couple jabs….in the years to come there will likely be a bully or two, heartbreaks, fights with friends, feeling inadequate, not good enough. As a mom I don’t want him to ever have those feelings, but I know that I can’t make them go away either….

So instead I hugged him. I held him close, told him how brave he was. I let him cry.

And got him the toy truck I had promised him.

After picking up the truck, we got in the car. Calvin said, “I hope I’m done with those pokes forever “. All I could say was, “Today, we are all done”.

Sorry, sweet boy. Life is going to throw other jabs at you. But I’ll be here….


Transformation Tuesday….yup. I went there

I am not typically one to go for trends. But “Transformation Tuesday” felt important to me today.

I used to hardly have ANY pictures of myself. No offense to my fella, but he wasn’t (isn’t) one to always take pictures of me with the boys. Once in awhile I would get a picture, but for the most part I didn’t ask, and I didn’t encourage, because I was ashamed.

I thought it was physical. I thought it was because of the 110 pounds I had gained from having two babies. From the maternity pants I continued to wear far beyond my post partum days. From the double chin I felt I had in any and every picture taken of me.

I was ashamed of me. The inner me and the outer me. I didn’t see myself as of any value, any importance. So I didn’t try. I didn’t try to be healthy. I didn’t try to see “Me” for who God created me to be. I focused on giving all my energy to others, helping and serving my students and my family.. I would hide behind the camera, snapping memories of my babies and fella together.  It’s always easier to see other people as more important than yourself. .BUT.

*disclaimer* God calls us to love others as we love ourselves (Check out  Mark 12:31)


Today I take a LOT of pictures, and truthfully, a LOT of selfies. Here’s why.

I’ve invested (for the past 13 months), and will continue to invest in me. In knowing that I am worthy. It is OK to take pictures of me goofing off with my boys, maybe even pictures pointing out my goofy personality, or showing my progress in taking care of my body.

Some might see it as vain, and you are welcome to that opinion. But my “selfies” demonstrate so much more than the physical change. They reflect  letting go of who I am NOT, and in embracing who I am. Quirks and all. They are memories I am making in a moment, with my family and in my own personal journey of respecting and LOVING this one life I have.

It wont be about 6 pack abs (although I’m not going to complain if they ever make an appearance ;)), It isn’t about getting back to my senior high school physique. My body had 2 bowling ball baby boys via C-section. Did I mention I had gained a total of 110 pounds?!

My body is uniquely and beautifully mine. It tells stories of change, growth, and strength. I’m frickin’ proud of it.

Ps. You should be proud of you too.

Friends, can we stop worrying about what others think of us and start thinking of how we SEE ourselves?

Can we stop judging ourselves to unrealistic expectations and embrace who we are, how we can learn, and where we can grow?

So…here is my Transformation Tuesday.

Physical. Mental. Relational.

It’s a beautiful thing. If you haven’t experienced it, take a step. I’ll be here to cheer you on!

Love and Hugs dear friends.


Chill Mama!

I’ve got plenty of things I could be doing…

In the hustle of the week it’s easy to get wrapped up in packing for the next day, trying to catchup on work, cleaning the house, doing laundry..But tonight my 2 year old reminded me with a simple tug on my pant leg… “mama, couch!”

Sit down and take a breath once in awhile. They won’t be young forever, these feet have been busy all day, a little rest is good for the soul, the body, and right now, this mama’s heart.
Thanks kiddo for the reminder