Seasons

Most of the time, blogging is my heart.

Usually it's a much needed, stress-releasing form of therapy and a really important memory-capturing creative outlet.

But sometimes I get in a rut, sometimes I put pressure on myself to blog even when I really don't feel like it, and sometimes I feel inadequate.

I've talked about it often. But blogging, and social media in general, can create this horribly false sense of who someone really is. Worse yet, it paints this picture that someone has the perfect life. With perfect children. Who dress in perfect outfits. Who live in a perfectly styled home.

Oh my goodness, it drives me CRAZY.

Of course like most normal people do, it's so easy for me to get caught up in this desire and portrayal of perfection. It can leave me wanting and wishing for more. But all it takes is a quick glance around to realize that my life has everything I could possibly ever want or need.

Besides, I find perfect quite boring really. {Ironic coming from the queen of perfectionism - a quality that is simply a defense mechanism I use as a crutch when feeling insecure, I suppose.} But I tend to seek out and connect with others who embrace imperfection. Not because it makes me feel better about myself. But because we put others at ease when we share who we really are. And I like that. I strive for that.

While being conscious of my family's privacy, I try really, really hard to portray reality here on my blog. In fact, anyone who knows me will tell you that it's near impossible for me to hide what I'm feeling. I'm the poster child for wearing my heart on my sleeve. And I thoroughly enjoy tracking, writing, and sharing what I am truly going through in every season of life.

It's just that this particular season, specifically after leaving teaching, starting a new job, and then deciding on permanent maternity leave after having baby#2, has been a really fabulous one. So my blog posts for the last year and a half have really been about how lovely life is. How much I'm obsessed with my babies. How I'm sickeningly happy.

But I must say, although many of my recent posts have only focused on the blissful, I too have experienced quite the opposite. I've gone through my share of darker seasons. I can think of periods when I would wake up, praying for that particular season of life to be over. More recently, I look back at the time I returned to work after having Lyla, and I don't even recognize that person. For quite a many reasons, that was a very trying year. But it is only through these difficult seasons where we are shaped, become stronger, and walk out on the other side with a lot more confidence.

Because, after all, without darkness, there would be no light.

{And suddenly this post got a whole lot deeper than I ever intended it to be. Refer back to earlier paragraph re: my inability to hide emotions}.

I only bring all of this up to explain that my most upbeat and restful season has been desperately needed as it followed a much darker one. I have done a lot of reflecting, catching up, spending quality time with those who really matter, and detoxing things that created stress in my life. I have learned to say no. I have stopped over scheduling and focused more on my family. I have infused peace and simplicity into our home. I have thought about my role as a mom and what that means for my girls. I have realized that maintaining my personal identity is equally as important.

Then, we had Adaline. And while bringing home a new baby presents its own set of challenges, it also helps us to remember to slow down and breathe in the everyday. That it's okay to pick up takeout and leave the vacuuming of the dog hair for another day. And it's okay to stay in the same sweatpants two days in a row because you are too busy building a lego tower with your two year old in between nursing sessions with your newborn. That it's okay to hibernate and do not much of anything else but snuggle under blankets. {There are some definite advantages to having a baby in the winter}. And most importantly, it's okay to not focus on accomplishing but to focus on being. Being with these little people who will no longer be little much sooner than I'd like.

And that's exactly what I've done these blessed 10 weeks.

But, my friends, the seasons are about to change yet again.

The newborn haze has begun to lift, and it's time to hop back in the saddle. Admittedly a teensy bit nervous, I'm ready to begin a new venture and enter a season of a little bit more...productivity. One that will boost my need to create and build connections with others, while still focusing on what matters most. One that will require being strategic and intentional with my time. One that will motivate me to get out of my yoga pants and out of the house. I'm ready and very excited to get started on my next project. {I'll share specifics soon soon!!}

I truly feel that I've taken the time I needed to start with a fresh slate. I have a positive outlook, have had much needed quality time with my girls, and am ready to bring on some new challenges. Because in all reality, we only grow when we step out of our safety zone and face challenges head on. There will be plenty of hectic moments I'm sure, but my hope is to always return back to this exact moment where things are clearer than they've ever been.

That family is my number one.

More info on this exciting life change to come soon...

Tis the season to be simple

Sometimes I surprise myself. Particularly with my reactions to things.

Or under-reaction, rather.

Like when things don't go as planned, and I don't hyperventilate. It surprises me. Or when I don't beat myself up for not hand-making a dozen sentimental Christmas presents for members of our family. It surprises me. Or especially when I don't have the time, energy, or creativity to construe festive holiday crafts or baked goods. It really surprises me.

I've lately caught myself asking {out loud} "Who are you?"

I just don't get rattled these days.

Being a mom to two littles has taught me many things. Most importantly, I've learned to be flexible. To appreciate imperfect. To say no. To seek out simple. To stick to my strengths. To let things go. All things, mind you, that go against the very nature of who I am at my core.

During one of our typical Saturday morning coffee talks, I was explaining these feelings to Gabe. How I, ironically, feel like a more relaxed person since we've had kids. {And since I began my journey of seeking balance, being okay with boring, finding myself, and purging anxiety-inducing thoughts, activities, and jobs from my life.} I no longer try to do it all or be it all. And most importantly, I try really hard not to want it all.

And goodness, it feels so great.

I can remember a time when I was striving to be the best at everything. Even things that I am not good at. Like the time I tried to take up sewing. Or the time I tried to become an expert graphic designer. Or the time I vowed to make dinner from scratch every night. HA. To all of it. Just, HA.

Pinterest and Instagram just make things look so easy. But social media, as brilliant and helpful as it can be, can also spread lies by telling only half-truths; just a sliver of someone's story. And it often used to make me feel like a subpar mom/teacher/person.

But these days, I stick to what I know, the things I am naturally good at. Which is not being the Martha Stewart, the creative-genius photographer, or the sous chef. Yes, I may be a stay-at-home-mom, but I'm certainly no homemaker. No really. I don't have a domestic bone in my body.

And I can actually say that without one bit of shame.

Because all it really comes down to for me is just one simple thing. I want to be the very best mom to my girls. A mom who is wholly and completely present in every sense of the word. And you don't have to be domestic {or perfect} to be a good mom. You just have to love your kids. A lot.

But for me to get to this conclusion meant going through the painful process of letting go.

And let me tell you. Letting go of perfect can be quite excruciating.

Yet oh-so exhilarating!!!

The real test of my "process of letting go" has always been the holidays. Because the holidays especially bring out the need to be perfect by creating-baking-and-memory-making. Nevermind the frenzied bombardment of perfectly-crafted Pinterest Advent calendars or the ever-present reminder of how Grinch-like I am because we don't partake in elf-on-the-shelf.

But I just don't have the time or energy with a new baby this year to even care.

And care, I do not.

But I promise I haven't been a complete Scrooge. We've been creating plenty of fun memories and carrying out some of our favorite traditions.  It's just that simple seems to be the theme this year.

And, what do you know? My girls are still thriving.

Imagine that. Thriving on simplicity!

The fact that I haven't broken out into hives because this is Lyla's third Christmas, and she has yet to get a photo with Santa? That right there folks is a surefire sign of letting go.

This past weekend was one of the best we've had since Adaline's been born. Because we spent the majority of time at home together as a family, and there was no pressure. Pressure that I typically put on our family to squeeze all the typical holiday activities in before December 25th.

Admittedly, my easy breezy attitude was probably kick-started by our first night out sans baby with Gabe's company Christmas party. The evening was filled with live music, unlimited wine, a photo booth, and two party animals never wanting to leave the dance floor.

Oh, wine how I've missed you.

But like I mentioned earlier, I've learned many things since becoming a parent. I forgot, however, to mention the biggest lesson of all: We are old. Mostly too old to stay out past 10. And definitely too old to drink more than 1 glass of wine. I'm pretty sure I stayed on the couch drinking coffee until 2 pm the day after mom and dad's big night out.

Lucky for us, we had nothing on the agenda the next evening. So we decided to uphold the one tradition that I will never, ever rid of. We had our annual watch Christmas movies- drink hot cocoa-sleep by the Christmas tree extravaganza. Although this year, we made a couple minor changes. We added a pizza picnic {because we didn't have the energy to get dressed to go out to dinner.} And we didn't actually sleep by the tree per se. {See the aforementioned lesson of "We are old". And with old comes the deep desire burning from within to get a good night's sleep.}

But oh-my-word did we have a good time. We started this tradition the very first year Gabe and I were married, when we lived in a 700 sq. foot apartment in Dallas. But this year was extra special, for two very obvious reasons. But it's the two year old who makes this whole process of traditions so much fun. Because she understands how special they are: Eating in the living room, consuming sugar that isn't usually kept in our house, and staying up way past bedtime watching movies.

Of course the perfectionist part of me wishes the photos I did catch were much better quality. But then I remember what's important. And I'm able to look past the grainy iPhone quality and terrible lighting to see the magical memories we created.

And I'm not sure who felt more spoiled: the girls or the pups!

Someone was pretty excited about the idea of a pizza picnic. 

Movie and hot cocoa time!

Then we rounded out our already perfectly-simple weekend with the annual Christmas Cantata at church. Complete with mother-daughter matching{ish} outfits. Which, by the way, was an accident. I know I don't have the best track record for accidentally matching. But I'm predictable. And it happens.

Perhaps the biggest testament to a new, anti-stress me? I didn't google how to photoshop out the Stanley canteen mug out of the background of this photo. :)

Just Being

I'm pretty sure I've broken some sort of absence rule over here on the blog.

I'm surprised I even remembered my login to my Mac as my brain muscles are most definitely getting squishy and rusty. And I don't like it one bit. {Yet, admittedly, I kind of do.}

I wish I could give a good excuse as to why I haven't had the desire to sit down and blog.
Like we've been busy completely remodeling our house.
Or I took on a volunteer project which has taken up all my time.
Or we have been busy packing all of our belongings to move to Madrid for a year.

But instead, the only real excuse I have is simply life.
We have been very busy enjoying every bit of it.
Busy enjoying happy.

Our pastor put it perfectly into perspective a couple of Sundays ago when he said, "We must find the value in being, not doing."
I'm pretty sure he was looking right at me when he said that.
Ok, not really.
But truer words have never been spoken, and these particular words struck a nerve deep in my soul.

So here I am, really focusing on simply being, not doing.

And to be quite honest, for the first time ever, my life is tranquil.
I am at peace with every aspect of it.
I feel content. I'm sleeping at night. And I don't feel even a twinge of anxiety.

This level of contentment, however, hasn't come naturally. I've had to work quite hard and make a very conscious effort to get to the where I'm at. I've spent the last 8 months detoxing and intentionally eliminating things from my life that tend to cause me anxiety - things like perfectionism and comparison.

I've said no to more commitments in the past 3 months than I have in my 30 years of living. I've made more of an effort to be around the people who make me feel the most "whole" and whom I feel no pressure to impress. I spend more time in the word and in prayer. I try to focus on gratitude instead of wanting more. I've forgiven myself for mistakes I've made and regrets I have. I left a profession that I thought I would love but didn't. I have learned that my value is not in the things I do but who I am.

Earlier this week, my morning devotional from Jesus Calling really stayed with me, "Accept yourself and your circumstances just as they are...Do not wear yourself out with planning and analyzing".

Once again, I'm pretty sure the author must have done a bit of stalking, and then wrote this just for me. Not that planning or analyzing are bad qualities, well, at least I hope not. Those are two characteristics that are absolutely etched into my being - I will never be able to rid my planning nature. Planning in and of itself is a wonderful thing, but planning to achieve perfection is where things get sticky. I have learned {and am still learning} to let go of things I cannot change and to not sweat the small stuff. **But believe me, this isn't easy. There are still plenty of small things I sweat. Just ask my husband and his habit of putting his cereal bowls in the left side of the sink. ;)

But I promise I'm getting better.

Know how I know? Because I made scones from a box this week instead of scouring Pinterest for an hour looking for the perfect recipe for two co-workers' birthdays. Or the fact that I'm totally fine with pizza and balloons for Lyla's second birthday. Or the fact that I am perfectly content updating and improving our current home instead of being sour that it's not time for us to "upgrade".

I'm really enjoying this whole avoiding perfectionism thing.

But also in my moments of weakness, I find myself getting antsy. Hoping for a new project or commitment. Wanting more responsibility. Wanting a challenge. Wanting to take on the world.

I'm a doer through and through.

But then I'm immediately reminded that this time with Lyla is so precious, so sweet, so fleeting. Each milestone, each passing moment, will never again be repeated. And when I have other commitments, I tend to not be as focused on my family as I'd like to be. My entire heart, brain and existence goes into whatever responsibilities I've been given.

So for this very short spec on the timeline of my life, and for the very first time ever, I have chosen to put my entire self into just being.

And it's amazing how just being brings a somewhat unfamiliar feeling to my bones: peace and contentment.
Oh. And lots and lots of happy.

Thought Spewing

Sometimes my thoughts are like one vast run-on sentence.

Which makes me cringe seeing that I am nerdily obsessed with grammar.
{And yes I like to make up words that seem more appropriate than real ones.}
I just have so much to think, so much to say, to the point where my sweet husband has to remind me that I have covered roughly 7 topics in one sentence.

But then, when life slows down just enough to catch a breath, my thoughts take a quick reprieve as well. Admittedly, it feels odd when my mind takes a break. Like a blank essay staring back at me. But once I finally get going, I can't stop.

Hence the sporadic blog posts as of late.
It's January. And cold. And a lot of indoor nothing-ness.
And it makes me feel like my brain can't quite function.

So I sat down, took a good look inside this head of mine, and actually thought about what I've been thinking about lately.

Good old metacognition {a teaching buzzword for thinking about your thinking}.

And mine goes a little something like this.

-- The past couple of weekends have been so delightful that I've completely forgotten to snap any pictures. Aren't those just the best? And we didn't even do anything breakthrough, just spent quality time with some of our favorite people and had some really special moments with Ly. And except for a basketball game with friends, not a single moment was social media-lized. I sometimes have to remind myself that just because something wasn't documented via social media doesn't mean it didn't happen. #generationyproblems

Ready to cheer on *the undefeated* black and yellow

-- Speaking of social media, I'd really like to start making a more conscious effort to put down my phone. Seriously why do I feel the need to check my smart phone every 15 seconds? You'd think I was waiting for the biggest news of the decade or something. And sadly, it's become muscle memory at this point. I've got a spare 7 seconds, better check Instagram. Waiting for my pot roast to microwave, better check Facebook. Sometimes, something will snap Gabe and I out of our social media induced comas and we realize we haven't spoken in nearly 20 minutes as we've been too busy scrolling our phones. We should definitely take a phone-and-media-free vacation, but then what would we talk about? {Totally kidding. But seriously, I need to be better about this.}

So getting this for Gabe via Emily McDowell Inc.

-- Instead of grandiose resolutions, I have set a personal goal or two. One of them is to be intentional, specifically with money and time. Since overcommitting is embedded into my psyche, being intentional about the things I take on is a fairly new concept for me. Other than walking into a room of clutter, saying no is probably the hardest thing in the entire world for me. Because of this, I tend to burn out very easily. I go into something full force until I absolutely can't stomach it any longer. Unfortunately, this is what happened with teaching {50% of new teachers leave the profession within 5 years for this exact reason, and there is nothing more infuriating than knowing that I became a statistic.} However. I have done some major fat-trimming in my life recently. And so far, I've done a great job of being intentional, which has led to the destined mecca of balance and even saving some cash money *cha-ching*.  It's also allowed me to experiment in the kitchen, go to a movie, AND read books that aren't teaching or baby related. Oh the joy!

My second movie since Lyla's been born

-- Now that I've been blessed with a toddler who is the girliest of girls, I really need to step it up in the glamour department. It's time to stop putting all of my energy in my mini fashionista, and put a teensie bit back into me. I mean seriously. I haven't cut my hair in over four months. I recently removed the nail polish off my toes from the pedicure I got back in August. My winter wardrobe consists of nothing but chunky sweaters and leggings. I've worked out maybe 4 times in the last 6 months. And the last time I got Fancy Nancy'ed was for my husband's company Christmas party. Maybe January makes me feel meh. Maybe I like cozy. Regardless, it's time to start making an effort.

Mesmerized by Mommy's 4 inch split-ends

-- Our house projects have sadly fallen victim to my burn-out issues. When we first moved into our house, we unexpectedly went full-throttle into some major renovation projects. We were completely in over our heads and still have never-ending to-do's that we'd like to tackle. So finally, after about a year and a half hiatus, we're ready to hop back in the saddle. And we often remind ourselves that you do in fact only live once, so we get a little wild and spend our Friday evenings sanding and painting trim and doors. And with our recent decision to stay in our house longer than originally anticipated and a slight tweak in my attitude, I'm really starting to appreciate and even love our house. We still have some big{ish} updates we'd like to take on, but in the interim, I'd like to make some simple changes. Like new throw pillows. I just can't decide if I want neutral chic or a fun pop of color.

I still have yet to order something from Joss & Main, but aren't these cute?

Phew. 

That felt good. 

The Season of Boring

Gabe mentioned something to me during our Saturday morning coffee talk a couple of weeks ago.
Something that's really had my wheel's turning.

This week marks the longest we've ever lived in one place since we've been married.
Exactly one week longer than the time we lived in Rhode Island.

Naturally, it feels a bit odd to not be packing our things.
It was always such a thrill getting news that we were to relocate somewhere we'd never been.
We would immediately spend hours Googling potential neighborhoods and reading Yelp reviews on local coffee shops and cafes.

{Sigh.}
Moving around provided some of the best years of our married life.
And I'd be lying if I said we don't get the itch every now and then.

Even just over a year ago when I was still pregnant with Lyla, Gabe mentioned the inkling of a desire  to move to a big city with more opportunity, culture, and hustle and bustle.
But as exhilarating as it may be to go in blindly to a new place, I really like being settled, I sure like convenience, and I really like a little thing called family.
I think I'm past my prime for the fast-paced city life, I told him, just like I'm past my prime for roughing it in the wild. I prefer having a car, clean towels, and being less than 5 miles from Target. 

I think after that, he went to the bedroom and cried a little.

And then it occurred to me.
Do I no longer thrive on living life on the edge or by seeking new adventure?

I'm not exactly sure when the switch was flipped.
The switch that made it so I suddenly became *seemingly* a dud.
But it most certainly was flipped somewhere along the line.

Of course having a baby changed a few things: outlook, perspective, priorities, the need for a more supportive bra, and the nap that I will never have again.
And then there was my job-change that offered a much more relaxed change of pace.
And can I count this cold winter as playing a part in my lack of desire to get out and explore the world?
But more than having a baby, changing jobs, and dealing with icky weather, I truly feel like hitting 30 caused the momentous change inside me. A change that was exactly what I {unknowingly} needed. A change that somehow made it ok to do the things that make me happy, even if those things seem stale and insignificant to the young whippersnappers.

Now that I've hit the big 3-oh, I say it's socially acceptable to be boring.
And thank the Lord.
Because I've been waiting on boring for the last 30 years.
I was never cut out for the party scene.
And I'm such an old lady at heart.

But don't be fooled for a second.
Boring, to me, does not actually mean insignificant or mundane.
And it definitely does not mean "not a thing on my plate" or "brutally un-fun".

It simply means more relaxed. Not caring what others think. Doing what makes me happy. Not focusing so much on what makes others happy. Enjoying the small things. Being less self-absorbed. Refining my taste. Experiencing a newfound confidence. Quality of friends over quantity. Wine and coffee. Intelligent conversations. Slowing down to take it all in. Reading interesting {and factual} articles. And accepting the fact that I'm much more of a homebody than I ever realized.

And so what.
I really like books and house projects and movies and lazy weekends {all of which completely describe last Saturday at our house}.

My 21 year old self is horrified.
But my 30 year old self doesn't care.

But this is also the season of life where I have finally let go. I no longer strive to do what I think I'm supposed to do or what I think others think I'm supposed to do. I do what I want to do. I fully embrace this life I've been blessed with. I'm abundantly thankful. When at one time, I wasn't always so grateful. I compared and envied and even felt slighted at times for not being given the same opportunities as others around me. But now that I'm older {and wiser}, I fully believe that regardless of the deck of cards we've been dealt, we ourselves must create opportunities. I've done a lot of growing and a lot of maturing and am fully confident that our circumstances, especially the bad, shape us into the beautiful individuals God intended for us to be.

I'm in a season where I actually like me.

I guess all I'm really trying to say is that growing up really doesn't suck as bad as I thought it was going to. In fact, being a grown up is my most favorite thing ever. I mean, of course I have those days where I would give anything to be back at the ADPi house watching The Bachelor, where my only worry was that I ran out of Diet Coke mid-rose ceremony. But overall, I much prefer this season of life over any other that I've experienced.

I've always loved the changing of seasons. So much that it leaves me to fight my constant intrinsic desire to move onto the next big season and battle my never-ending "need" to accomplish, to do, and to change. But I am humbly reminded to "be still" and savor this time, for this is one season that I'd like to stick around for just a tad bit longer.

Here I am. Just being boring with my Beans. 

Working Mom Update: One Year Later

{via}

November 12th is forever singed into my brain.
As the day I left my heart, my 12 week old baby, and went back to work.

I was enjoying my weekly chat with my expecting best friend in Rhode Island this past weekend. Amidst the giddy dreaming about all the exciting changes that are about to come her way, our conversation shifted into the trials and lessons that go along with working after baby. And I couldn't believe the words that came out of my mouth regarding the topic. That I was actually thankful for my time back at work as a teacher and that it made me a better mother. It's sort of the whole idea that without bad, we would never really recognize good. And how, after one of toughest years of my life, I'm able savor every moment I have with and fully appreciate my daughter.

It is absolutely amazing the difference one year can make.
I'm a better and stronger person.
Someone who's experienced tremendous growth and who is filled to capacity with thankfulness.
After reading the post I wrote exactly one year ago, my heart breaks for that girl.
The one who left the unexpected bliss of maternity leave to a year full of confusion and heartache.

No matter the situation, returning to work from maternity leave is hard. Even for those who are excited to get back to work. It's that daily grind, the speed at which the day travels {all with the added stress of a newborn who doesn't sleep through the night} that is enough to make anyone reach the verge of a psychotic breakdown.
But even once I got the hang of running on 5 hours sleep, the endless cleaning of bottles and laundry, the rushing around like a crazy person every morning, the figuring out how to maintain my milk supply, and the keeping up with lesson plans and after-school meetings, things still didn't get easier.
In fact, once I got more "comfortable" and into a solid routine of madness, I sank deeper into a sad, dark place.

Unbeknownst to myself at the time, I was at a crossroads of sorts. Not only was I trying to figure out how to be the mom I wanted to be, I was also facing the feeling in my gut that my childhood dream of teaching wasn't exactly what I'd always imagined it to be. But it was still something that I threw my entire self into, as I do with all things. Because I don't really know any other way than to try to excel in whatever it is I do. Besides, I didn't leave a successful career and go into debt simply to be an okay teacher. I dreamed of changing education and truly making a difference.

But all of that changed at 4:20 a.m. on August 19th, 2012.

Because after going back to work, my full attention, energy, and heart was being pulled in two opposite directions. By virtue of the inability to give my entirety to more than one thing, I was settling to be a mediocre teacher and a mediocre mom.

I'll never forget something one of my teammates said to me my first week back. I was venting my frustration over my feelings of mediocraty. She said to me, "Ang, you're an amazing teacher and mom. You'll just have to learn to wear different hats."

Although she was absolutely right, my heart instantly sank. Because at that moment, I knew I didn't want to wear different hats. I wanted only one hat. I didn't want to be a teacher by day and mom by night. Which for me was only for one hour each night as Lyla went to bed so early. One hour a night. And during that hour, my mind was often elsewhere, thinking of all the things that had to get done by the next morning.

I tried to let it go. If you can't change your situation, change your attitude was my mantra. Believe me, I tried. All the pep talks from my co-workers and family, encouragement from my husband, and compliments from parents and my principal did nothing to help with the confusion, anger, and sadness I felt.

I was sad because I missed my daughter and sad because I felt like I was forcing my passion for a career that I at one time was sure was my calling.  It was devastating to slowly say goodbye to a lifelong dream that wasn't exactly what I'd always pictured. Not to mention the fear and anticipation I felt for the upcoming school year as my district planned extreme changes. Changes that would increase my anxiety and cause me to see Lyla even less. Sadly, my fear wasnt for nothing as it's a struggle for many of my previous co-workers to keep their heads above water this year.

And I often get asked the question, Do you ever regret leaving teaching? 
Honest answer?
Not one bit.

These days, I am fully able to focus on the things that are important to me. The things that matter most.

So many admirable women are able to do it. To Lean In and make it all work. I admire these women tremendously, and at one time, I was sure that I would be one of them. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't quite figure out the whole balancing act. Or how to put 100% into two different loves. And in the end, I could no longer put into teaching what I wanted to, or what it {and my students} deserved.

Which brings us to today.
One year later.

My circumstances have changed since one year ago.
But I'm still a working mom.
I still deal with the daily grind and the morning blur.
I still deal with a fussy toddler after a long work day.
I still don't get nearly enough time with my babe in the evenings.
But at least I'm fully present this time around.
And I'm no longer defined by my profession.
I am defined by so much more.
I'm a wife. mother. friend. daughter. snuggler. laugher. doer. reader. goober.
And sadly, I truly felt like I was none of those things last year.

Like many of us who deal with hardships, I am now able to fully appreciate so much more after my yearlong struggles.
I not only value every moment spent with my daughter, but I have a deep respect, understanding, and true appreciation for teachers everywhere. Especially the good ones.

I'm beyond blessed and incredibly grateful that I was able to make a change in my personal situation.
I now work at a job I enjoy and that I'm able to completely leave at the end of the day.

Overall, I'm loving life.
Especially the simple, everyday moments.

By focusing on my family, I'm actually doing something I love.
Not doing what I always thought I was supposed to do.

And I am finally okay with that.

Baby #2. {No. I'm not pregnant}

I'm terrible at making decisions.

Well.
I actually make quite good decisions.

Rather, I struggle with confidence in my decisions.
As I often ponder and mull.
Go back and forth.
Discuss with a friend or two.
Then make sure to get a third and fourth opinion.
Until I finally reach a decision.
And then typically change my mind.

This drives most who love me absolutely bonkers.

I simply don't like options.
Because I like too many things.
A friend once accused me of having style identity confusion when trying to figure out how to decorate my house.

In fact, I'd rather go to the grocery store and have only one option for everything.
You can only imagine how I feel when I browse Pinterest.
And places like Babies R Us or Ikea?
Outright sends me into cardiac arrest.

This lack of confidence in my decision-making abilities is further perpetuated by the amount of information and *often unsolicited* advice thrown at you while pregnant.
Cry it out or attachment parenting. 
Breastfeed or formula feed.
Stay at home, work from home, part-time or full-time.

The differing options and opinions are downright maddening.

This is why I once *literally* hurled my Babywise and Healthy Sleep Habits books across the living room.
I was getting conflicting information.
*Not to mention I hadn't slept in 7 weeks.*
So the only logical thing for me at the time was to chuck both books across the room.
The sound they made as they crashed onto the wood floors was oh-so-satisfying.

Boom.
Decision made.

Then.
It only gets worse when you actually have the baby.
Because all mamas do things differently.
And even though we try not to, we sometimes look at others and think, Man, I would never let my kid ____________.
Until you yourself are in that situation.
And what do you know?
You're doing exactly what you said you would never do as a mother.

Don't lie.
You know you've {even if it was unintentional} judged critiqued someone else's parenting style.
You put your baby in a crib the first night? 
You mean to tell me you let your baby wear Target brand diapers?
You gave your baby a pacifier before she was 4 weeks old?

There really is no silver bullet in parenting.
We all know that.
Because there are so many ways to go about reaching the same end goal.
Which is, of course, to raise a healthy, independent, caring, and successful little human.

So after all those decisions to make during pregnancy.
Then even-more overwhelming decisions you're bombarded with during your baby's first year.
*I recently described the first year of Lyla's life as a year of survival while simply trying to keep your baby alive and your sanity nearby.*

Then.
You are welcomed with the next big decision.

That may not even be on your personal radar.
But there's no avoiding the question from everyone around you.
And the fact that approximately 97% of your friends are pregnant.

So when are you going to start trying for #2?

Holy heavens.
Is anyone else out there experiencing a larger than life baby boom?

I thought my year of 13 weddings was bad.
However, it has officially been topped by the year of one million pregnancies.

I'd be lying if I said every time a new friend announced her pregnancy {which so far has been averaging about every 5 days for the past several months} I didn't feel a slight twinge of baby fever.
In fact.
If I'm completely honest, I had *major* baby fever about 5 or 6 months ago.

Until life finally got easy again.
Really easy.
And actually normal.
We are having such a fun time with this age.
And we love giving all of our attention to Lyla.
And just Lyla.

For right now at least.

Because things are so calm and wonderful at the moment, Gabe sometimes mentions the appeal of having an only child.
That way our hearts are not divided.
I, however, immediately and completely squash the thought.
As I am an only child.
And I do not want Lyla to be an only child.
*God-willing of course*

At any rate.
I don't think our family will quite feel complete until we have another.
I actually understand why some families have 5 or 6 kids.
The thought of a large family seems so appealing.
Because there is nothing like parenthood.
Especially during the newbie stage.
And this stage too.
And word on the street is that every stage just gets better and better.

But Gabe reminds me that as appealing as it may be to have a large clan, the two of us aren't quite cut out for a large family.

And it's true.
We like things simple.
And clean.
And easy-ish.

But many times, God has plans in store that aren't necessarily our plans.
And I try to remember that.
He is in control.
Wholly and completely.

That being said.
Our plans are to enjoy and freeze-frame this exact moment.
With our one and only sweet little lady.

So although #2 is on the radar.
We're wanting to hang on to easy.
For just a bit longer.

Ly, however, keeps reminding us that she is in fact ready to be a big sis. 

My Equilibrium Point

Finding balance.
It's what I desperately sought out to do and failed.
Over and over again.

Until recently.
When I made some major decisions.
And felt immediate gratification.
Instant relief.

But that doesn't mean I don't still struggle some.
With imbalance, that is.
I'm human.

And as humans, we get caught up in ridiculous things.
Like wanting bigger {better} houses.
Wanting more lavish lifestyles.
Thinking others have it easier.
Better.
Wanting more.more.more.
Wanting period.

Often, social media adds fuel to the fire .
Social media and I seriously have a love/hate relationship.

It can be so fun.
So helpful.
So productive.

...So exhausting.

Having Instagram-worthy wardrobes for baby.
Throwing Pinterest-perfect parties.

Blegh.

And I'm the first to fall victim to it!

I recently read an article.
It talked about how some social media sites can correlate feelings of loneliness or depression.
I also recently read this funny *sarcastic* blog post.
About how Pottery Barn Kids {one of my all-time favorite stores might-i-add} sometimes makes mothers feel inadequate.
Hello sandwiches in the shape of exotic animals and pre-printed lunch notes. 

Here's the thing though.
I love DIYing.
Love hosting a fabulous soiree.
Love Baby Gap.
And *gasp* love PBK.

Nothing wrong with that.
Not one bit.

It's just...
I really have to be aware of my intentions.
And focus on gratitude, not envy.
And know when my equilibrium is off.

When greed or self-pity start to seep poisonous thoughts.
When I start to think I don't have it so great.

Absolutely the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard, right?
Makes me cringe.

It's a dark, tempting path that I try my best to avoid.
Or at the very least, turn around and find my way back.
But I'm human.
Remember?

That was a lot of deepness.
All to say that this weekend, I found my equilibrium point.

Spending my Friday off with my baby toddler.
Having coffee on the deck with my husband.
Going to the zoo {to see the just-born tiger cubs}.
Spending time with a group of girls who always bring me back.
To my equilibrium.
No pressure.
Just true friendship.

Feeling very blessed.