the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth

I've got a secret to tell you - and I think it'll be short, because I'm not sure I want to elaborate too long, as I think I'll just muddy the water, and I think that's maybe not the point.  I love words, but sometimes use too many of them.

My secret is - when I think I'm failing, or might fail, or even might not succeed to the level that I want to, I shut down.  Quit.  Go MIA.  That can be as small as a brief social interaction and the point when I move on, or as big as a relational fight, parenting, or a career aspiration.  There is a reason I haven't taken the GRE yet even though I want to do grad school and have been talking about it for 4 years now.  Just being honest.  I am totally {but not as badly as I used to be!?} terrified of failure {especially admitting it}.  I strive for accomplishment, success, value, and see myself as capable, able, and successful - and if I'm not all those things, I will do my best to paint my failures in a positive light, look for the lesson, or try to portray it in a way that makes it look less like a failure and more like a "growth moment." {I'm typically really good at job interviews for those curious.}

So why am I telling you this right now? Because I'm currently avoiding a task (work-related, and relatively minor, if you're wondering) at hand that I feel like I have let slip for fall too long - have failed to complete in a satisfactory or timely manner, up to my standards, and so instead of facing it like a woman and just getting it done, or just acknowledging that I'm behind schedule and shouldn't be, I'm pretending it's not there and making up excuses.  And blogging about it? Well, that was absolutely pressing and urgent.  Much more important than just doing the task itself.

Enneagram 3's, raise your hands?  {holds both hands up high}

I should say, I am a healthier person than I used to be - more comfortable with failure than I once was.  Actually, I don't know that that's true - I want it to be, and some days it is, but I think the truth is, I still am not comfortable with it.  Rather, it does not undo me entirely anymore {it used to}.  And I actually do things for fun that I'm not good at now - and am cognizant of the ways that adventuring and risk taking brings life to my soul, and requires that I push through my fears of failure.  But I still don't like failure {who does?} and actively avoid it often - and still find myself shutting down, running away, or trying to make it look better than it is, in the face of impending failure.   I hate appearing incompetent, or like a failure.  And being found out is what I seek to avoid at all costs.  But at very least, I now recognize the ways that that's an unhealthy pattern, and strive to break it when I recognize it.

I'm confident that I'm not alone in this.

So I'm combating that instead by outing myself.  {little tip: for threes, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth actually is what sets you free}. It's not pessimism, nor is it being down on myself {I'm not}.  It's actually the opposite - seeing myself as I am, apart from my relative successes, failures, and accomplishments.  So here's the truth:

• I am currently failing at this particular project- and that truth is actually freeing to say out loud. 
• Failing at a task does not make me a failure as a person.  And so I can acknowledge my own failure to the people that I have let down, without it determining or affecting my worth.  I am not the sum of my accomplishments - my worth and value is in who I am, not what I do.  And owning my failures allows me to take responsibility for them, and move forward.
• There are actions that I need to take to complete my current project and I need to take them. 
• I need to ask for some help and make a concrete plan to take those steps.  And then do it.

When was the last time you failed at something? How do you deal with failure? Is there truth that you need to acknowledge to yourself or someone else?  Are there concrete steps that you need to take?

You are loved for who you are, friend.  And you are so much more than the sum of your accomplishments, failures or successes.

- KD

a prayer for the toddler inside of me

... because sometimes my toddler's antics mirror my own a little too closely

Lord, help me not to be whiny today.
Forgive me for my jealousy, ungratefulness, and possessiveness.
Give me eyes to see the things that I already have, for which I can be grateful. 

Teach me to play well with others -
Help me not to hit, bite or kick others, verbally, passive aggressively, or emotionally.
Even if they hit me first.
Teach me to lead by example with gentle wisdom and sometimes loud joyful invitations. 

Help me to play with a wild and reckless abandon, with unabashed delight.
Even if it's not mature or grown-up - and even if others laugh at me.
Let my laughter ring out loudly, often, and with invitation.
Help me not to take myself too seriously, and to laugh freely at the silly things.

Teach me to share what I have, even my favorite toys and prized possessions -
Freely and joyfully, without condition. 

Remind me that not everything is about me today -
Help me to see that I am not the center of the universe.  Again.

Teach me to stop and smell the flowers (every one) - to see the snails, clouds, and rocks.

Renew my childlike wonder. 

Thank you for the rest that you give me - mandate for me - every day.
Help me to take it with welcome delight, rather than kicking and screaming against you. 

Lord, let me take a few minutes in quiet today, even if they are precious few.
Renew my perspective, refresh my energy, and awake me anew.

Forgive me for the ways that I have lost my childlike wonder, delight and joy and instead reclaimed my childlike immaturity, selfishness, and smallness.  Please restore in me the former, while shaping, molding, and disciplining me into maturity in the latter - even as I seek to do the same with my children.

Amen.

KD

Dream Chasers: let me not die while I am still alive

A few days ago, I was reading Sheryl Sandberg's Sheloshim post about her husband, partnership and her grief, and life and option B, transparency, letting people in, and asking for help, love and gratitude.  And I was struck, in a heart-level way, by the prayer line from her rabbi friend,

“Let me not die while I am still alive.”

Really, her whole post is powerful.  She talks about so much in such a succinct and raw, yet beautifully incandescent way.  If you have time to read just one thing today, read her thoughts not mine.  Please.  And take just one thing away from it, that will affect your today and tomorrow, whatever that might be for you.

But if you have time for two things today, here's one of my today and tomorrow takeaways:

Dreams matter.  And finding and doing the things that bring life to your soul, mind, body, and fellow man - not dying while you are still alive - is of utmost, and infinite, importance and value.

When I was 18-19-20, at the cusp of adulthood, in college, my dream was to become a nuclear physicist, working on nuclear policy, and through diplomacy, to make the world a safer, better, more peaceful place.  I also wanted equality for women, a level playing field, and fame and success for myself.  And honestly, making heaps of money would have been on the list as well.

By the time I finished college, at the ripe old age of 22, my dreams and goals had shifted from nuclear weapons to the nucleus of the person, the soul, the spirit, and the heart - and wanting more than anything to see people at peace within themselves, to know that they were loved more radically than they possibly could imagine, and to know that they were safe and free - freed to live radical and bold lives that made a real difference in the world around them.  I had just started learning that lesson myself, and I wanted others to find that freedom as well.

As I have grown older, and transitioned careers again - and then transitioned out of a career into life as a stay-at-home mom, my goals and dreams have shifted more internally and relationally - to be a woman who is herself so at peace in who she is, that those in her presence find themselves more comfortable in their own skin.  That they feel safe, known, and loved completely, freed to be fully and unabashedly themselves.  For my children, my husband, and others who grace my life daily.

And that is a good and holy dream - a eulogy worthy goal, not a resume builder - that will fill my days and challenge me from henceforth, I am certain.

And yet.

And yet, I long for more.

I love mentoring, counseling, and coaching.  I'd love to go back to school and get a degree that would enable me to pursue that more fully.  I find joy in walking alongside others through real life.  And making a tangible difference in their lives.

I find life in creating new things.  I dream of inventing something new.  Shark Tank? Terrifies me, but man, I'd love to have an idea that I could present there!

I love to write, and dream of writing something that actually matters.

I want to be the kind of woman who models for her children what it looks like to never give up on dreams - who inspires her husband with her love of life and fullness of joy.  Whose kids rise up and say, "Man, mom loved us well, was always present for us, I always knew I could count on her" etc. But also, "Man, I saw my mom chase her dreams and live a fulfilled life, a love-filled life and I want that..."

See I think as we get older, our dreams and goals do shift.  They mature.  They grow.  Or they shrink, as fluff is cut away to reveal the heart, the core that is what we actually want.

And sometimes, they get set aside (for a time) for the sake of someone else pursuing their dreams, or for the sake of caring for someone else.  Love does that.  True love is always sacrificial.

But so often, in the process of the shifting, and the growing, and the maturing, and the sacrificing, rather than honing in, and holding onto, we simply lose sight of our dreams altogether.  We settle down, we settle in, and we abandon the heart and soul of who God created us to be in the process.

And I want to speak specifically to parents here - I think it applies broadly, but moms, you are my demographic, the place that I know most well, as I preach to myself here as well.

Moms, for some of us, when the fluff is cut away, and the core revealed, the place of our dreams, the place where we come most alive - that is simply and purely in being a mom.  Some of us, that is our heart and soul, even though it has not yet become reality.  And that is a good and holy place.  Never let anyone call you "just a mom."  Or accuse you of not pursuing your dreams.  If this is your dream, I bless you to chase it with reckless abandon.  Please love your kids (and love their friends, my kids) in the ways that only someone living a fulfilled life can do.  I applaud you.

For others of us - many of us - we love our kids, love being moms, and are really good moms, but we're even better moms when we invest in and value and spend time in areas other than just our children.  Our dreams are not better ways of living fulfilled lives or less sacrificially loving than those of the mom whose soul comes alive in mothering - they are simply different.  And at times, we (wrongly) believe or are told that they stand in competition or contradiction with our ability to be good moms, or our culture's (or subculture's) views of what makes a good mom.  And yet, by pursuing those dreams in a healthy balance, we actually love our kids with more joy, teach our kids to take risks, inspire our husbands, and model what living a fulfilled and content life looks like.  And I applaud you also.

I fall in the latter category.

And I struggle daily to find time, energy, resources, and frankly even desire, to invest in the things that bring life to my soul.  But I know, after a few days/weeks/months of their absence, my soul starts to atrophy.  I become snappier, less engaged, and less joyful in the times I spend with my children and husband.  And far quicker to point out "just how much I am sacrificing for them" and "why can't they be more grateful."

Moms, it matters that we have and pursue our dreams too.  Hear me, as I say to us together, it matters that you do things that are life-giving to you.  And it's okay if that is things other than parenting. That you know what makes your heart sing, your soul feel free, and your energy levels reset - other than naps and coffee.  We all need naps, and I don't know how anyone does it without coffee.

Even if it's just 5 minutes a day (or a week, let's be honest) of self-investment and dream chasing.  Or sometimes, even if it's just having dreams, and clinging desperately to them in hopes that one day... one day after the weeks of potty training and cleaning up yet another "oopsie" off the carpet are past... one day, this is what you long to pursue.

Two caveats: First, I'm not talking about having a career - but living fully - having dreams, investing and valuing and spending time with what is life-giving and soul-filling.  They can be the same thing, but they don't have to be.  It's knowing what makes you feel alive, and making space for it.  And second, I know that talk about chasing and pursuing our dreams is often language of privilege, and between working two or three jobs, caring for our families and trying to take care of basic life tasks like getting groceries before the stores close, the thought of finding time for ourselves feels laughable; I do not mean to be insensitive to that.  But I think dreams still matter - and in the midst of just getting by, having the ability to look for more, to long for more, makes the difference between getting stuck and merely feeling stuck for a season.

Because can I be honest? I have never met a more consistently sacrificial group of people than parents.  Day in and day out, the bulk majority of parents put someone else's needs before their own.  In a good and holy way.   And it is beautiful.

But in the same way that children need, test, and even want boundaries - parents, we need to have boundaries as well.  Very few of us - I would wager none of us, but I'll leave room for error - very few of us have the capacity to give constantly without refilling.  And if you do not also care for yourself, have dreams for yourself, you will - we will - find ourselves as atrophied versions of ourselves with very little left to give - and in its place, a whole lot of bitterness.

We will become people who die while we are still alive.

So for you and me:

What do you love?  What makes you most animated when it comes up in conversation?
What do you wish that you had space or time to pursue?
What makes you feel alive? Contented? Challenged?  Full?

When was the last time that you did that?

What time do you have available for that?  What do you need to cut in order to make (any) space?  For starters, you can stop reading my blog, I won't be offended.  AND that will free up at least 10 minutes a week. Skimmers, maybe 2, but hey, you won't have made it to this line anyhow.  ;)

What conversation do you need to have with those in your life to make that happen?  Spouses - partners - loved ones - how can you help create space for your loved ones to be more alive?  Ask them.  And help them identify the places where you see them come most alive.  That's always a fun conversation.  Ask today: where do you see me come most alive?

For me, writing here is one tiny step.  Finding space for people, for creativity, for innovation, those are other baby steps.  And trusting others to watch my kids occasionally so I can do that (not run errands) and believing that that is worth doing, is another.

Dreams matter.  Let's be dream chasers, friends.  Pursuers of real life and meaning. 

And let's start today...

** This is post #100.  (yay!) As promised, I both remembered, and am observing it by doing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary - just writing a normal ol' blogpost.

lucky 99: do's and re-do's looking forward

Guys, this is post number 99 for me (on this blog).  Lucky 100 coming up next...

I've been writing, on and off, since June 2007 - right after I graduated from college and returned to the states and began my first "real" job.  I started with Five Small Stones, and moved over here in 2012.  It has been a long journey of life, identity, work, worth, and so so much more.  This writing adventure has taken me through several states, in and out of many apartments, roommates, dating, then love, marriage, and now the baby carriage, aka parenthood.  My writing style has evolved, the blogs I follow have changed, my sense of humor has gotten even quirkier and more sleep deprived, my love of awkward even more inhabited and uninhibited - and yet, and yet, writing has remained a constant place of release and life for me.

For those of you who read along, and have read along, thank you.  I know who some of you are - and I won't ever know who the other half of you are.  But it's been fun, real, cathartic, etc., to share this journey with you, even just knowing that you're reading along.

He can't believe I have written so much either

Since we are on the cusp of something - even if it's just crossing over into triple digits - I thought I'd take a few moments and reflect on what comes next.

Don't worry - we come in peace

re-do's (changes, reversions, revisions):

1. get (back) in touch with the lighter side of life

I love the heady, thoughtful, reflective posts that I write - and will continue to write those - but there was also a time when I noticed, and reflected on, and wrote about silly, snarky, fun, lighter, just plain joyful things more often and I'd like to try to do that again, without (always) looking for more to be there. My own invitation right now is to choose joy daily - so I'm going to try to do that here as well.

2. find an aesthetic theme for el blog that I like

This may never happen, realistically speaking.  But (as you might have noticed), I have been and will continue to be playing around with the appearance a little, just to update it slightly from the xanga-esqueness (anyone else remember that?) of it's previous appearance.

3. stop comparing/continue to find "my" style

Man, I read some really awesome blogs - from supermoms (no such thing, but they seem like it!), snarky and sassy bloggers, wise individuals, and super smart writers, and from dear friends who are all of the above.  And all too often, I find myself, as I begin writing, writing in their voices not mine, trying to imitate their style rather than finding my own.  I love these bloggers to death - and if I were half as funny, smart, wise, or beautiful with my words as they are, I'd count myself a writing success - but while I might jokingly say that I want to be them, the reality is that I don't.  I want to be me, fully and completely.  And I want to write in my own voice.  And I don't want to continually fall into the trap of comparison - what often leads to the morphing style - because it's restrictive, only shallowly rewarding, and really poisonous to the creative soul.  It leads me to resent their success, and causes my own good writing to pale and sour in my mind as it stands next to theirs.  I want to read their writing with joy and delight, eager learning - and thankfulness for them - and write in my own voice, learning from their wisdom, but without trying to become them or measuring my success or reception relatively against theirs. 

do's (goals, challenges, hopes):

1. engage me more often - write more regularly, continue to share vulnerably and honestly

I make this a goal every year.  But I really mean it this time. :) 

2. engage you more often - share thoughtfully and relevantly, with you in mind as well

As I write, it is a public medium, as well as a personal reflection space.  I want to continue to grow in sharing vulnerably, personally, and without apology, the real life that we live.  Funny parts and not so funny parts.  But I also want to grow in recognizing the benefit of a public medium - and consider how to stretch myself in writing (out of what I know well), what is also beneficial to you.  For example - last year, I wrote a post called Anatomy of an Apology - was one of the most popular, and from feedback, most helpful, posts of the year.  It comes second nature to me after years of wrestling with it - but I don't often think to write about those things, if I'm not wrestling with it in the moment.  So stretching into those arenas as well.  Part of it, if I'm honest, is an ego thing - wanting to be well-received as a writer.  But part of it - the good part, I think - is an effectiveness thing.  Wanting to fill the vast world wide web of opinions with words that are worth reading, beneficial even if not popular, relevant even if not the opinion of the day - while continuing to grow as a writer myself.

Also, I'm trying hard not to use comments as a measure of effectiveness of writing - often my trap and temptation - but please do feel free to give them.  I'd love to hear your thoughts on how you engage with whatever we're "talking" about.

3. crack 500 (page views) and 10,000 all time views

My all time most popular post comes in at just under 500 views - so, in the next 100 posts, I'd love to crack that.  Again, partially an ego thing and partially an effectiveness/relevance thing.   I can be honest, right?  It's always both, even when I long for it to be otherwise.  And right now, all time views are just around 7,000 - which basically just means that this goal is that I should continue writing, rather than slacking off, and hopefully you'll keep reading.

4. elevate and honor others more

Let's be honest - I'm really good at talking about me.  But, as aforementioned, I read a lot of amazing writing by others, get to see the incredible work of other amazing people, and am impressed by the ideas, designs, and thoughts of many many more.  And then struggle with comparison to it all.  As a means of off-setting that, and honoring them, I'd love to figure out a way to share these people with you as well, rather than just grimace and hope that you haven't found their blogs yet, or maybe that you'll like mine better because you're my friend.  Not sure what that will look like yet - in a way that isn't self-aggrandizing or copycat-ing - but I want to figure it out.

If I'm lucky, I'll remember that the next post is the big 1-0-0 - but there's a decent chance that I won't and you'll be stuck with a mundane reflection about traffic or something equally inane.  I'll do my best not to run away into the sunset and miss that one.  Or not, because life continues on and maybe ordinary is the best marker of longevity.  We shall see.

S, absconding with Jon's king in a game of what subsequently became "Calvinball" chess

So here's to the next 100 blogpost "days" of life, awkward moments, thoughts and reflections - thanks for joining me in the journey.

- KD

mirrors, middle school, beauty and body image

Circa 1993.  Just because, you're welcome. And yes, those are bloomers under my gloriosa floriosa what-was-the-deal-with-the-collar-osa dress.  Please don't even ask me about the haircut.  I think it was the process of my mullet (and, no that's not rhetoric, I mean an actual mullet) growing out, but I just can't even... all the angles... in all the wrong places...

I was in NC visiting my parents this past weekend - which was great, by the way - and maybe it was a flashback to high school me or middle school insecurities or maybe it was just purely the fact that someone else was watching my toddlers and I had more than a hot second to throw on clothes before someone ate something they weren't supposed to, but I found myself, after my shower one morning, standing in front of the full-length mirror, critiquing what I didn't like about my body:

... Hips that were too big.
... Extra skin left on my stomach, after having both boys, that never resettled quite right.
... Leftover skin discoloration that never fully recovered from pregnancy mask.
... Remnants of acne that's been there for eons since awkward middle school days.
... Pale New England skin that hasn't gotten any sun yet (and won't for a few more months).

I could go on, but we'll stop there for now...

Because I have to be honest with you - when I was in high school, and even early after college, I struggled immensely with body image and my ability to feel or to be "feminine enough" whatever that means.  I was never any good at doing my hair or make-up - and still to this day, have very little "fashion sense" at least as it is typically perceived.  I often felt like I was not beautiful.  Often felt like I wasn't "girly" enough.  And often struggled with body image.  And while my list of "imperfections" is different now al la baby birthing and mothering, the concept was very similar - I would list and stare endlessly, nitpicking details, always feeling insufficient and not pretty.  And then hold up some impossible image and berate myself over it.  Try to fix or change myself so that I fit into whatever the model was that I didn't feel like I had achieved.

But in the years since then, especially after getting married, and having the boys - I haven't struggled with body image nearly as much.  And so it felt weird, honestly, to have those thoughts again.

And weird enough that it made me stop and wonder why all of a sudden I was seeing myself - rather, seeing my body, because "myself" is more than just a body - so critically again.

Quite frankly, I don't think those thoughts are worth my time.

Reality is - I wear a smaller pants size now than I did when I started college.  I weigh the same as I did before S was born.  My big feet somehow, weirdly, shrunk after pregnancy.  I have a healthy BMI, eat relatively healthily except not really, exercise regularly, and I'm in good shape, especially for having had two kids.  And whether it's fashionable or not, I've figure out "my look" far more than I ever had before.  And in general, I like how I look and am contented in my appearance, even in its quirkiness.

And so I stopped - took a selfie - and thought about it.  And here's where I landed...

--

When we spend lots of time looking at our bodies, we will find things to critique.  One of the things that I realized - somewhat comically - is that our apartment in Boston has a grand total of two mirrors.  One, above the bathroom sink, with which you can see from armpit to head-top;  the other in our room, poorly lit, on my bureau, which gives you a view roughly to the knees, if you angle just right and metaphorically speaking, balance on one leg.  The reality, plain and simple, is that most of the time at home, I don't spend a lot of time examining the minutia of my body and I am far more content in it.  This does mean that occasionally I leave the house with slime all over me, or weird stains, or make-up that doesn't blend perfectly - and very v.e.r.y. rarely, a skirt tucked into my underwear - but I'm hoping that those are the exception not the rule.  And, honestly, it's an exchange that has led to more happiness, even if occasionally it also leads to laughter over an embarrassing moment as well.

Mirrors aren't a bad thing in general, but I have found it to be true that except when used as a means to reflect light or beauty back to and around us, they rarely lead to more happiness.   And time staring at ourselves in them almost never does.

Instead, and perhaps to substitute for better mirrors, I often times ask Jon how I look - or to help me fix an outfit or double check a color combination.  I am incredibly blessed to have a husband who has more fashion sense than I do, is gracious and honest, helpful, and somehow still affirming as well.  Moreover, he loves me deeply, unconditionally, and truly, for who I am, how I am.  I am a lucky woman, truly I am.  And it might be one of the very few reasons that I don't have more of the aforementioned embarrassing moments.  But beyond that, when the makeup is off, my hair is a mess, and the clothes are in the hamper for the night - he is far more gracious and accepting of my body than I am.  Sees far fewer of its "flaws" and scrutinizes it far less than I do for "future renovations." And my boys - well they just think it's cool that mommy has arms that can pick them up, hair that they can endlessly tangle, a lap that still fits them both, and enough energy to keep up with them most days.  They could care less about my extra skin or pale pale-ness.

 And I had the "ah ha" moment, in my old high school bedroom considering my newly-minted-30+ year old grown-up body with the extra skin and the uneven skin tone and wider hips - that I am far more peaceful in my body that I ever was before, because I have learned to see it more through the eyes of someone who loves me as I am, than through my own self-critical lens.  

Love, loving, and being loved, are often correctly identified as beauty.

And there is nothing more stunning than someone who knows that they are deeply and profoundly loved.  And there is nothing more confident or assured - and appealing, honestly - than someone who loves themselves - not in a narcissistic way, but in the sense of - they actually like who they are and aren't trying to be someone that they're not.

I think there is wisdom there - that when we truly see ourselves through the eyes of real love - both from self and from another - it is then - not when we have achieved a "perfection" or "ideal" of body - that we find ourselves most free, contented, and most comfortable in our own skins.  Unfortunately, the reverse is also true - the absence of love, welcome, or acceptance as we are makes us shrivel, cower, and grow smaller and more critical - and ironically, often less attractive to ourselves and others.

It's not a secret to happiness - certainly happiness is far more than that.  And it's not even a secret to health - certainly healthy requires our actions for exercise and good diet in addition to our healthy mindsets and perspectives on ourselves.  [As an aside, I think a healthy perspective on exercise actually doesn't tie it to how we look, but how we feel - and doing it for the sake of health, rather than for the sake of appearance, for ourselves not for others, for life with others rather than our own ego security, but that's less the point].  But for me, it was an noteworthy realization -

I am happier with my appearance when I look at myself less and when I look at myself through the eyes of someone(s) who love me unconditionally - not when I "have arrived" or look a certain way.

And while that is incredibly simple, for me, it was profound.

Also, mirrors should be hung in places to reflect light and beauty, not to define, measure, or critique.

- KD

Why I really love "two-under-two"

I have a very clear memory from when I was pregnant with E -  I was probably 15 or 16 weeks along and had gone in for a routine blood draw - still nauseous, nibbling on cheese-its trying to keep myself from turning green.  The technician, making small talk, asked me "Oh, is this your first?" and I replied in my usual way - awkwardly looked away and said "No, it's my second," fully anticipating the inevitable next question - "Oh, how old is your first?"

Up until this point, when I had informed people that my oldest was, at that point almost one, but not quite - and that the two would be 17 months apart - up until this point, I was inevitably always met with, "Oh wow! So close! That's going to be really hard/challenging/tiring/etc!"  But this time - bless her - this woman, looked me straight in the eye, while still (successfully) drawing my blood, and said, "Oh that's so exciting!! My first two are that close as well, and it's so wonderful."  And she went on to share, tangibly, why she loved it so much.

It was the first time - and one of the only times in my pregnancy - that anyone was so enthusiastic about their closeness in age.  It wasn't that others were negative - they just expected that it would be hard, and focused on that instead.  But her optimism and enthusiasm were a welcome gift - a fresh perspective, grounded in experience, from which I received a lot.

Now, nearly 11 months into "two under two" - and no longer technically two under two - I have to say, she was 100% right.  [Most days] I love having two so close together and would do it all over again, exactly the same way, in a heart-beat.  Yes, there are days that are hard - and yes, those first few months in particular are a handful - but not nearly as much as I thought it would be, and so so SO much better than I thought it would be.  So today, I wanted to take a moment to share some of the tangible reasons why I love not just these particular two-within-two's, but having two close together in general.   If this happens to be you right now, in this swirly sea of anticipating how hard it will be, I hope this will likewise be a gift to you.

1.  The older one (likely) still naps.  No explanation needed - mama *might* get some down time or at very least, some solo time with the little one. A huge huge gift.  Now, at 11 months and nearly 28 months, they nap in the afternoons at the same time most days.  HUGE huge gift. Also, one of the only reasons why I get a chance to write.  I'm sure you're undyingly (??) grateful too.  Also, I'm pretty sure I just made up a word.  Go naps!

2.  You haven't forgotten all the baby stuff yet.  Seriously.  Sleep training and weaning, baby proofing, how to tie on a Moby, preferences on what you want to feed them, and cues for when they're ready, and even remembering when the sleep regressions are (heaven help us) before they hit - you're totally there and don't need a refresher course.  Also all the things you swore you'd never forget about actually taking it easy postpartum and all those lessons you learned with the first one - well, you're actually close enough that you might remember them this go-round!  And the house is already baby-proofed - ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom.

3.  You're still in diaper mode - and you don't have to worry about potty training too.  Or maybe you do? Maybe you've already potty trained? Teach me your ways.  Seriously.  July is our month and I'm mildly terrified.  Banking on warm weather and lots of outdoor time.  Also, Oxiclean for everything. But I digress.  Regardless, when they're two under two and you're exhausted and forgetting your own name, and considering the efficacy of a chamber pot for yourself, trying to keep up with a toddler new-to-potty is a handful, or so I've been told.  Close together, just wash (or buy) more diapers. And you can do an assembly line to take care of messes, making changing time only a small-ish portion of your day. [Cloth has been my best friend, especially with two so close together - diapers be expennnn-seeeeve!]

4.  The temper tantrums at one and a half are so much easier than the ones at two and a half.   This is one that I'm just now learning - and they're kicking my butt, for what it's worth.  But toddlers (apparently) go through a fairly major transition around 2.5 - moving out of toddlerhood into the next stage, where they exert a lot of will, a lot of emotion, and a lot of no (NO no NO!), all at the same time.  Introducing a new baby at any point brings (some? lots?) temper tantrums and emotions - to all - but at least in my experience, the ones that occurred before we hit two were so much easier to manage ("ooo look a cow?!" "want to play with water?!" "how 'bout mommy sings a song?!") than the ones that come with a little bit more emotional clarity and exertion of will.

5.  They really are each others best friends - and the laughter is hilarious, because they just find each other (and some really bizarre funny-only-to-toddlers things!) really funny.  Everyone says this one, so I almost didn't even include it, but it's (at least thus far) been so true for my two that I relented.  Forgive the cliche.  But they have no basically memories without the other.  They do everything together - and S always wants E with him on whatever adventure he's going on, even if "No, Why-ya" is his constant refrain, as he attempts to keep him younger brother from *breathing* on anything that he sees as "his."  Likewise, E thinks his big brother is the absolute coolest ever.  And also the funniest.  Today, they were cracking each other up on the kitchen floor over a broom, a popsicle stick, and dust bunnies.  Still not sure why.  But their laughter is infectious and makes our house a lighter, happier place, and I am so glad they have each other.

6.  They actually do entertain each other fairly well (now).  This one took time, but now, 11 months in, they actually do most days.  I was reflecting on this this morning, as I was trying to sew something for my (hopefully coming soon) Etsy shop, while both boys were awake.  Now, granted, our house is small enough that sitting at my sewing machine I can pretty much see and hear all corners of it, but, in general, I can typically bank on a little bit of time to some diversion like sewing, as one child plays with something... and the other chases his brother.  Or very occasionally, as they both play with something together without the obligatory "mine! mine! mine!"  And listening to them talk to each other in their cribs as they fall asleep - or listening to S sing twinkle twinkle little star to E - it's priceless.

7.  Developmentally, the same activities interest both - so life is a little easier to schedule.  Also, they play with a lot of the same toys, so the sheer magnitude of toys takes over slightly fewer rooms.

8.  It has been hugely helpful in teaching different social dynamics to S.  Right at the age where we're learning about sharing, playing (nicely) together, personal property, etc., we have a built-in-playmate who can help to make those lessons tangible, day-in, and day-out.   And S, who has always been more shy and reserved, all of a sudden is coming out of his shell, bolstered by the fearless socialite of his younger brother, yet still in a age-setting where both of them are together, with similar peers.  Similarly, E has someone who "talks" much closer to his language and plays with him always - helping with his own language and social development.

9.  You have to take yourself a little less seriously and you learn in earnest that you cannot be all things to or for your babies much faster.  The sheer magnitude of needs quickly deflates any inflated perceptions that we might have of ourselves - and helped me, at least, release the savior complex, and realize that I had to ask for help, had to let some "ideals" go, and couldn't always respond immediately to whatever the seemingly pressing need was.  And as a result, they also learned (S in particular) how to do some things for themselves earlier and how to wait at other times.  I learned how to triage (not literally yet, thankfully) and determine with wisdom what was a "now" need and what could wait a few minutes while I dealt with the other needs of the moment.  And that wisdom was actually incredibly freeing from the tyranny of the now.  Not to say that we need to make our kids grow up faster - we don't, but there is wisdom in them learning to wait and have flexibility - or that this lesson isn't also be learned with a wider gap between ages - it is.  But for me, having two so close together forced me to press into that faster than I might have otherwise.   And has, as a result, made me a much more relaxed and peaceful mom than I might have been was otherwise.

You do ridiculous things to balance them both (sometimes literally) - and ridiculous things to keep them both entertained and laughing.  And you just have to laugh more - otherwise, some days you might just go crazy, from the sheer amount of poop, chaos and cheerios.  And that laughter is a good and beautiful gift.  And if you're lucky, echoes back to you from your kids as well, keeping all of life much lighter and more joyful as a result.

These are certainly not attributes or benefits limited exclusively to having two under two - they certainly extend beyond that, and each family has to do what is right, feasible, or possible for them - but they are certainly reasons that I am glad to have had our kids so close together.   And so, if you are one of those mamas anticipating two under two - hearing a lot of how hard it will be, I just want to say to you - have hope, mama.  It's good.  It's really good.  It is hard some days - but not all days - and not nearly as many days as you're worried that it will be.  And I really do mean it when I say, I love it, and wouldn't change it for the world.  It's a good, good, gift.  And I'm daily thankful.

KD

unfiltered random thoughts for the day

I keep starting posts and then not finishing them.

Between a horrific cold that has me somewhere between absolutely no voice whatsoever and sounding like a slightly sexy version of a wildebeest - and being smack dab in the middle of the "learning curve" and "growth opportunities" and "opinion forming" craziness that that is sometimes referred to as the terrible - but we're trying to be optimistic - twos.... between all of that, two kids, a husband, a yard, and a part-time job, well, I just haven't been that productive.  Ask my book-buddy who is still waiting for my thoughts, now three weeks later.  Sorry HK, I promise they're coming...

Y'all, it's really hard not to be able to talk.  Like at all.  Especially when you have a toddler.

So rather than finishing my posts on weightier subjects, but knowing how much you wait on baited breath for my thoughts (I know...), here are some slightly less weighty, completely disconnected, and mostly humorous rambling thoughts - until my brain returns to normal operating power.  We'll consider this my "talking" experience for the day.

--
I wonder if toddlers believe the lies that they tell us?

"S, did you finish your peas?"
"YES!"
"I can still see them sitting right there on your plate; are you sure?"
"YES!"
--

My neighbor, a very sweet abuela, speaks no little English, and I speak very very little Spanish, but we try - today we had a lovely (a la hoarse wildebeest) conversation about our gardens, wherein she gave me a beautiful sunflower to plant in mine.  I thanked her profusely, in what turned out to be remnants of my middle school French, for the "flower of the soil." As opposed to the one that grows mid-air, K?  I'm just hoping that that bumbling french didn't somehow translate to a gratuitous thanks for the dirty flower, because I was actually very grateful.
--

Conversation from this morning, as we pretended to cook:

"S, what are you making?"
"Peas!"
"Yum! That sounds great! What are you putting in them?"
"Peanut butter, chocolate chips, peas, yeast." "YUM!"

Burgeoning chef, that one.  Really thinks outside of the box.
--

Never in my life have I been more grateful that the trash truck comes every Monday morning at a predictable time.  Free toddler entertainment for a whole 10 minutes.  Thank you, neon shirted men, whoever you are.  My toddler thinks you're awesome and wants to be you when he grows up.
--

Down the street from our house, several blocks, there's a house that's been condemned - found ill-fit for tenants - and badly managed by the landlord.  I met the occupants last summer, because their toddler daughter bit and punched S on the playground, and for several months after that, we avoided eye contact on their front steps as we passed by.  The mom was an addict - I rarely saw her when they weren't high.  They were evicted in the middle of the winter.  And every time I pass their house, and see the windows boarded up, my heart twinges and I wonder where they are.  Hope they stayed warm in the winter.  And hope that the little one is somewhere she is safe, loved, and happy.
--

Yesterday, for Mother's Day, in addition to homemade breakfast, cards, and an other-worldly grilled steak dinner (I totally have an awesome husband!) - my husband gave me a glorious 45 minutes of solitude in addition to nap time.  To figure out what I wanted to do, I asked myself the question, "what do I feel like I can't do when I have the kids?"  So I ate chocolate chips by myself without sharing them at.all. and it was glorious!  And then, for the first time in months, I pulled out my paints and painted.  And you know, when the kiddos came back inside, soaking wet from the sprinkler, the first thing they wanted to do was "paint with mommy?"  There's something so enticing and exciting about a mommy who is happy and fulfilled and doing things that she loves - that it passes on to her kids, one smeared paint glob at a time.  And it's beautiful.
--

I use my college physics to explain to my toddler why the small, deep bowl of oatmeal stays hotter longer than the shallow, wide bowl does.  And I may pull out formulas.  It also might be the only time that I use that degree regularly.
--

My 11 month old thinks that the yoga ball is the most hilarious thing that was ever invented, aside from his brother.  Pair the two - the yoga ball AND his brother - together, and well, he's just all giggles for like, forever.
--

And that friends, is the summation of your random thoughts for the day.  I'm sure that you feel much more fulfilled than you did before.  Or not.  But regardless, I hope you have a wonderful day and know that your thoughts, be they big or small, deep or silly, lasting or fleeting - they matter. Filter them better than I do - or at very least, look for the humor in them with me - and make sure you find time do something that brings you life, even if it's with kiddy fingers painting their own wild designs.

Until next time,

KD