Recharge & Reset

We took a family beach vacay over the weekend, and even though it was cut short by hurricane Isaac, we made the most of the 2.5 days we had.  While I did have plenty of time to sit, toes in the water, and just...be, I did manage to completely wear myself playing in the water with my soon-to-be three year old. And somewhere between building sandcastles and wave boarding, I realized I've been running on autopilot.  Mommy survival mode, if you will.  Carrying out necessary tasks to keep the house and occupants thereof afloat.  Make breakfast. Feed breakfast. Clean up remains of breakfast. Wipe faces. Wipe hands.  Wipe bottoms.  Tidy house. Kiss children. Repeat for lunch & dinner, then sleep.  And before I know it, every aspect of my life is on autopilot as well.  There's food autopilot where my meal choices are no longer thoughtful, but instead last minute and often packaged.  There's wife autopilot where we exchange typical marital phrases, like "I love you" and hope that it makes up for the lack of conversation we've had in the last 24 hours.  And because I'm on autopilot, I find myself feeling bored.  Not because there is nothing to be done...because there are LOTS of things to do...but because I'm running the same track over and over and over.  It happened when I was working, so it's not just a SAHMommy thing.  Old habits die hard, and they are habits that I fall into because it's mindless. It takes zero effort and next to no energy. And then I realized how little energy I've had lately...which goes right back to what I'm feeding my body, and the general lack of fitness I am currently maintaining.  I did a happy dance when I was able to fit into and button my prepreggo jeans and pretty much quit worrying about my body by the time the zipper was up.  Now, while I am an advocate for rest, and I generally think most Americans work entirely too much and cram too many things into their calendars, knowing that I've been living on autopilot seems like a slap in the face to my adventurous spirit.  Not to mention what that attitude might say to the One who provided me this time here on Earth.  So today, I'm hitting RESET, people. 

Psshh. Who needs a January 1st date to make some life upgrades, anyway?  I change things up in August 'cause that's how I roll.

Beautiful Mess

-A friend recently called me a "mess"...and my former self might have shreeked and ran in the other direction, horrified that anyone saw me for who I really am.  But, at 28 years old, I laughed because it's true, and in a way it's so freeing.  I am a mess, and the beautiful part is that I'm finally okay with that.  In a world of Pinterest, Cosmo, and botox it's easy to spend your entire life trying to be someone you're not. But, lately, I'm too exhausted to continue the "perfect" facade {as if anyone was believing it}...so I've decided to roll with the hot mess that I am and work what I've got.  Yeah, ok...so what if I hate wearing makeup, my hair is never in place, I throw things when I'm mad {or maybe just trying to make a point...shoutout to my toothbrush}, I lose things, I laugh at things that probably aren't funny, I talk excessively when I'm nervous, I will never be gentically qualified to be victorias-secret-model skinny,  my house will never look like a PotteryBarn catalog, the number of gray hairs on my head are multiplying on the daily, my kids sometimes spend most of the day covered in their most recent meal, I don't always say the right things or make the right choices, and as of yesterday I may be known to walk in on strangers in the men's bathroom only to awkardly apologize for it later *palm to face*.  But I am who I am.  I'll never be perfect, and the good news is that I don't have to be.  God is doing a work in me...I can feel it.  So pardon the mess, but I'm under construction.
I may be a mess, but it's a beautiful mess.
 

Is That a Grey Hair?!

 My husband and I recently took a trip to Las Vegas, and while vacations always bring out our fun side, I realized {brace yourselves}, I'm getting old...{er}.  We sat next to a college student at the first show we saw, and I laughed out loud when she asked us if we were "going out" afterwards....after the show that wouldn't end until 11....PM.  Going out?! I thought I WAS out!  I also found myself wanting to avoid the young hip bar scene and opted for more civilized dining experiences instead.  And instead of, as I had planned, handing over cold hard cash to fling myself off of the 40 story Stratosphere hotel & casino with nothing but a few cables between me and the concrete earth below, I watched sheepishly from the bottom as others took the plunge, wishing I was excited about it as they were.  I talked myself out of it and found compromise with a carnival-ish roundabout ride atop the same hotel.  This will do, I thought.  But then as the arm of the ride swung us out over the side of the building, my children flashed before my eyes.  What if something goes wrong?  What will they do without me?  I could see the news story headline.  Two children left parentless.  Faulty hydraulic cable sends mother and father 40 stories to their death.  Who have I become?  When did I start looking before I make the leap, and in some cases, not leaping at all?  Somewhere between my 25th and 28th year, it seems I lost my cojones.  I used to be so carefree.  Fearless.  But the world that I once saw as my playground, full of monkey bar possibilities, I now see as the safety hazard that it is.  And instead of running right up and taking my turn, I tip toe my way through the minefield of caution signs.  They say things like "Early Morning Ahead"...yep, better not stay out too late.  "Make U-Turn Now"...before I fail or get my feelings hurt.  "Falling Expectations"....better be realistic.  And by the time I make it to the metaphoric apparatus, I've talked myself out of the adventure. Needless to say, I've marked a few things off of my bucket list...shark diving probably isn't a good idea.  Sky diving...seems a little risky.  In fact, I may just avoid diving of any kind.  And I'm not even ready to talk about the number of greys my hair stylist covered up last week.  *palm to face*...it's happened.  I'm officially a responsible{ish} adult.

Cleared For Takeoff

As I stow my bag and buckle my seatbelt on my flight to Vegas, I excitedly await my favorite part of flying. Takeoff. The sound of the engine. Being pressed against your seat by the velocity of the machine you are traveling in. Feeling the earth leave you, first from the front wheel, and then the rears. Watching your relative world zoom out a hundred miles at a time as you slip through air and clouds. 

Is it obvious that the science nerd in me geeks out over aviation? I always have, really, in one way or another. Being the daughter of an avid museum goer, the air & space sorts are my favorite. I get why people learn to fly, and I kind of love all things airplane. I secretly want a collection of wooden propellers. I've always wanted to skydive. I have an affinity for old leather bomber jackets and aviators. And if Top Gun isnt one of your favorite movies, we can never be friends.

Maybe it's the hundreds of years of aviation history. Maybe it's the speed required. Maybe it's the feeling of cheating death.  Maybe it's the view from above and seeing everything you know differently. Im not real sure, but I've decided that I feel for clouds and the atmosphere what some feel for sunsets or the ocean; closeness to your maker and such.  A genuine appreciation that I'm even here and able to be a part of the bigger picture. A change in perspective, I guess.

As I spend the next four hours glued to my window, feeling a certain jealousy for pilots and those who have been lucky enough to travel beyond our atmosphere, I wonder...did I miss my calling?

7 Years Strong

Gift giving, for me, is difficult.  I think the perfectionist in me wants to give the perfect gift every time, and I usually talk myself out of every idea that comes to me. So when I realized I was weeks away from my 7 year wedding anniversary, the usual gift giving panic set in.  I had just given my hubby pictures of the boys for Father's Day to hang in his office at work, so I thought he should have at least one of me in there, right?  Well, somehow, I talked myself into slipping into my wedding dress for a few pics{let's just take a moment to appreciate the fact that I could get that sucker over my recently acquired mommy hips}.  I commissioned one of my shutterbug friends, Brit, to help with the camera work, and we braved the 100+ temps to snag a few shots around the neighborhood.  Sweat and bugs aside, we ended up with some great photos.  Here are a few of my faves...

It didn't feel quite right to leave the boys out... 

It was fun, and I couldn't help but think back to our wedding day and all the excitement that came with it.  I'm so blessed to have married such an amazing man.  We've had our share of challenges and tears, but at the end of the day, I know he's in my corner.  He's more than I deserve, and I'm lucky to have his love.  Here's to 7 years strong.  Happy Anniversary, baby!

Always, your bride :)

Letter To My Boys

Recently I overheard a conversation between parents where one asked the other, "What do you want for your children?" and the other responded "I just want them to be happy."  It made me wonder, what do I want for my children?  Do I just want you to be happy?  Not really.  Happiness isn't reliable.  It's not some reachable destination.  It's ever-changing and often fleeting.  I'd say, at the very least, I want you to be happy.  Do I want you to find joy in your everyday life? Of course, yes.  But I want your lives to reflect the greatness that I know is within you, and greatness is born from moments that aren't so happy.  Greatness is born from overcoming frustration.  Greatness is born from overcoming fear, restlessness, anger or hurt.  It comes with tears and worry and sleepless nights.  It comes with ridicule and competition.  It requires hard lines that can't be crossed, steadfast faith that refuses to be broken, and courage to do what's not always easiest.  It requires balls of steel in moments of weakness...to either walk away, or to face the consequences of giving in.  It almost always includes making mistakes.  Moments that make you cringe.  And that's okay.  Be thankful for the lesson, ask for forgiveness, and move on.  As much as I want to shield you from all of those awful things, I know that growth or change isn't possible without them.  I also know that surviving those awful things requires knowing the One who put the greatness inside you, and His son who made your knowing Him possible. 

What do I want for you?  I want you to find your own greatness in life over and over again.  It's part of who you are and the legacy you leave.  It lives with you and beyond you. 

Keeping The Peace

I'm not gonna lie, there was a time when my temper could have been described as "backwoods."  One wrong look and I'd ask what exactly it is that you are staring at and if you'd like to take a picture.  I vaguely remember being the cause of an afternoon run to the E.R. because my brother needed stitches.  But honestly, be it age or be it experience, I've learned to laugh things off.  I rarely take myself seriously, much less the words of others.  But it seems that lately, my sense of humor is being tested. 
Do you ever have a day when you wish you had a free pass to say or do whatever you wanted?  It's that kind of week for me.  What I'd really like to say to said person is "how about you back up ten feet before speaking with me so that I'm not tempted to break your face with my elbow." or "what if you take those awful words back, and instead tell me 3 things that you love about me so that we can all recognize how freakin fabulous I am." or "yeah, nice to see you too, a-hole." or "don't mind me.  I'm just a human with a soul" or "don't worry about it.  I'll be the adult here since you obviously weren't going to take that route."
What stops me every time is the notion that most people, including me, aren't always aware of their tone, timing, or straight up lack of common decency.  I give most people the benefit of the doubt...sometimes to a fault.  And at the end of the day, I'll take the blow because honestly, I know I can handle it.  Probably better than most.  I know I'm an amazing mom, a thoughtful daughter, a supportive sister, a beautiful wife, a loyal friend, and overall an enjoyable person to be around.  So suckas can't get me down...and they definitely won't cause me to tarnish my Educated Citizen status.  Because reacting would give them what they want, and I'm not about to give them the satisfaction. 

Also, I'd hate for my children to have to speak to me from the other side of a prison cell.