Happy Birthday 'Merica

I've been holding back from writing as of lately. I'm not sure why. Our lives are in one of those transitional periods where there are a few open doors and not enough information to make an easy sure-footed decision. Even in the midst of this chaos I find that I am really happy right now. I've stood up for myself in a few hard ways, I've managed to let go of things that should have been lifted from my shoulders months ago, and I'm trying to appreciate the knowledge that I'm nowhere where I imagined myself to be but I'm happy for where I've landed. And the best way of finding these things out for myself was to step away from the world of technology which has an uncanny ability to suck us into a vortex of comparison. And how refreshing it's been to not wake up judging my life again someone who I only "knew" through a internet footprint. 

I'm finding by living a life of less comparison I've become more appreciative for the here-and-now. Little things like playing in the backyard and visiting the farmers market seem to be readily enjoyed instead of looking for the next photo opportunity for Instagram or my blog. And surprisingly enough, by removing myself from behind the camera I seem to be capturing more of those instantaneous moments with my family too.

I, however, am a victim of holidays and the need for overindulging in the picture taking department. The morning of the Fourth Brecken asked me why we were celebrating Captain America's birthday. He never seems to miss a beat in the department of leaving me tongue tied. I'm sure it's been said over and over again but I'm enjoying this stage of Motherhood more than the last (and I'm sure I'll say it about the next one too). My babies are communicators and both of them tend to wear their feelings on their sleeves, which makes for more than their fair share of dramatic moments, but it also means that they tend to express their feelings of love, excitement, and enjoyment more readily too. 

John, on the other hand, has never been known to show emotion but he remarked late into the night on the Fourth how this holiday was his favorite. There's no real commercialized market that goes on for months,  it's simply a time to eat good food, be with family, and (his words) "blow things up." And I guess that would make good ol' Mother 'Merica proud. She is a she right? I think she is. She must be. 

I hope y'all had an amazing holiday. I'm back. My head is a bit cloudy these days with house building and all, and exciting things are happening! 

Busy. Busy. Like Busy.

We've been busy. I'm sure if I said it was a good-type of busy John would strongly disagree with that assumption but I find that I thrive when our schedule is a bit chaotic and the days seem to fleet by in an instance. I guess our lives are taking one of those dramatic turns that happens occasionally. You know the kind, where you're just puddling along and all of the sudden there are a million and one changes happening simultaneously. Yes, that's where we're at in life. 

And we're playing T-Ball, which has been a little nerve racking. Albeit, it has been wildly entertaining to watch a passel of small four and five-year-olds bee line it to third base only to realize that they were going the wrong direction. My poor boy has the genetics of his mother and was bred for the warmth of Arizona so a majority of the pictures taken have been those moments of desperation where he thinks his toes and fingers are going to fall off. But cold weather or not we have braved the fields every Saturday and I find that the far off dream of childhood sports is now upon us in full swing and I couldn't be more delighted.

We're also building a home. Yes, a bonafide-no-longer-rental-of-a-home-with-hardwood-and-granite- and-absolutely-under-no-circumstances-will-there-be-carpet-in-the-dining-room kind-of-home. I'm sure you've gathered by now that all the hyphens are to show my utmost disdain for carpet, especially in areas of eating. For two years we've lived in a rental and I feel like a small part of me died when we moved it, many boxes have still remained packaged up, and making memories in a place that has never felt like our own has always been a bit unsettling. The thought of once again having our own home is not only my saving grace right now but it also means I get to start decorating again and I love to decorate. Ask John, he'll roll his eyes...

I would say our level of busy is currently under the somewhat sane tinkering on the edge of crazy stage. We decided long ago to general our own house this go around and so far the work has been tremendously hard, I should clarify that it has been hard John, I just do as I am told and follow orders. It's been so hard in fact that I have made a household rule that the last few minutes of the day have to involve talking about anything other than tile/flooring/carpet/hardwood/porches/decks/light fixtures...just so I can go to sleep without dreaming about our home.

 I'm excited to share the journey with all of you and I'm exciting for all the little details I get to plan and I'm so eeeking (it's not a word, I know) to finally be able to decorate the babes' room with all the items I've collected over the past few years. 

Days to ground breaking: 12 and counting...

30 before 30

I haven't blogged much lately. I've struggled with finding my voice and rather than write crap I decided to step aside to take a breather. This blog of mine has morphed over time and while it has been a steady avenue for chronicling my tiny family it hasn't always been the truest form of myself (as I'm sure most blogs are). The struggles to write honestly run deeper than trying to find the right words to type and somewhere inside me I knew that my own feelings of self worth and identity seemed to be the common triggers for my lack of motivation. Not too long ago John asked me what my hobbies were and for the life of me I couldn't think of any. And even more alarming I realized I had been using my children as the crutch for not developing my own talents--I'm too busy. Someone has to parent. I'll find a hobby when they go to school. You know what I mean.  My identity has become so attached to my children that my own sense of self-worth was lost somewhere along the way--their happiness is my happiness? And honestly, how am I to write if I don't have interests of my own? sad. I know. 

So I threw away all the ice cream turned off the Netflix and sat down late one night and decided to write down all those things that I have wanted to do but never did because of one excuse or another. After awhile the list seemed so daunting that I finally decided to capture 30 goals just for myself.

Here it is: 30 before 30.

Do something drastic to my hair.
Read at least 10 books.
Try new recipes.
Start playing the piano again.
Send more packages.
Help someone in need.
Make a dream into reality.
Plant a garden. (I kill plants).
Be published.
Reupholster a piece of furniture.
Go on a road trip.
Eat something new.
Try fly fishing
Take a photo-a-day for thirty days
Date my husband.
Learn to be more forgiving.
Ride a bike more often.
Spend more time outdoors.
Learn how to make French macarons.
Finish a daunting project.
Keep weightlifting. just keep going...
Do something spontaneous.
Play in the ocean.
More phone calls.
See a Broadway show
Learn to let go.
Go on a one-month spending cleanse.
Conquer a fear.
Do more random acts of kindness.
Visit some place new.

One Little Word: Compassion

For those of you that follow me on Instagram or Facebook I'm sure you've already seen this, but it's worthy of one more share (or at least I think so and the Instagram typos have been fixed ;)). This is a post I wrote on Christmas Eve about a particular experience that happened  while trying to frantically track down a package:

"Last weekend we went to visit my parents and it wasn't until we were headed home that I realized I had left my DSLR camera at their house. In a panic I had my mom overnight it to me with the hope of having it in time for Christmas. Because what's the point of a camera if not for Christmas morning?

So in the hustle and bustle of things I stopped by the post office to pick it up on Christmas Eve to only find out that it missed its connection and was stuck at another post office. The Postmaster said that there was no way it would get to me, but if I wanted to drive an hour into town I could pick it up myself. The kids were screaming and plans had already been made for the day and I knew there would be no way I could strategically fit in a last-minute run into town so I went home broken hearted. As I got into the car I started to cry, and as someone that is not normally a crier the tears of  frustration begun to gush out without an end in site.

Pulling into the driveway I became an emotional basket case  as I saw my husband sitting there patiently waiting. As I unloaded the babes from their carseats I proceeded to air my grievances to John. It seemed so silly to be crying over a camera, but it seemed that all the anxiety of the holidays and laundry list of last minute details were finally catching up to me. And as with most circumstances that are out of my control I began to erratically clean my house--because that's what I do when I'm near my breaking point. Not long after that the Postmaster called and asked me to come back to the  office. I picked myself up, cleaned my mascara stained cheeks, and tried to pull myself back together. It was nearly noon and the post office was closing in a matter of minutes and yet a line was still lagging around waiting to haul away last-minute gifts. And in a post office that is lucky to receive 50 packages a day the days proceeding inundated our tiny little office with over 500 packages. It was a crowded and chaotic little place with winter-clad patrons bustling in and out all day while the post office staff worked unceasingly to adhere to their every needs. 

I noticed upon my return that Pat, the postmaster, had disappeared and that only one post office attendant was meeting the needs of all the customers. As I patiently waited the line slowly trudged along until Pat returned. When she called me to the front she held in her hands a small black case. In the last minutes of the holiday rush she had left the post office to rush home to retrieve her own camera.  As I looked at her in disbelief she said "you deserve to take pictures of your babies on Christmas morning." As I started to cry again I said "no one has ever done something like this for me, there's no way I can accept your camera" and she gently held my hands and said "it's the least I can do." As the tears welled in both of our eyes I knew that her simple gesture was a magnified sense of compassion for someone in need.

As I left the post office that day my heart was bursting with the spirit of compassion and love. In those last frantic moments these two wonderful ladies had sacrificed their time and resources in the hopes that I would be able to capture those tender sweet moments of my babies. Cheryl, took the burden upon herself to help the bustling line of patrons by herself and Pat gave of herself in the best way she knew how--a camera."

Over the last few weeks I've considered what my "one little word" would be for the year. After looking back on years past I noticed a common theme of self-improvement and trying to find ways to make my own life better. Then I began to wonder, how often do I work at making the lives of those around me better? Sadly, not enough. How many experiences have I missed to help another because I've been so consumed with my own life? I'm sure there are many.

 

So this year I wanted to find a way to focus less on "me" and more on "them."

This year I want to be more compassionate.

I want to take the time to connect with my children. I want to learn from them and know that their little hearts are full of so much good--that maybe I can even learn from their sweet spirits.

I want to spend more time with my husband and realize that the frustrations don't need to escalate into big ordeals.  

I want to look for the good in others and strive to be more in tune to their needs.

 

I want to find a way to do simple acts of kinds without any expectation of praise.

 

I want to forgive, even when not in the wrong, understanding that sometimes forgiveness means letting go and moving on.

 

I want to inspire myself to give more, even if it is just a simple task like opening a door or saying good morning. Because it really is the little things that count.

 

Happy New Year friends. Thanks for reading.

 

My one little word for 2012, 2013

The mundane.

We've taken this whole stay-in-pajamas-all-day-long-mantra a little too seriously. Honestly, our new found laziness has been a bit of a relief. Lots of cartoons and late morning breakfast dates in bed have become commonplace around here. These kids of ours haven't seemed to mind though, pajamas-wearing until two in the afternoon (noted in the picture above) and plenty of Popsicles for breakfast (I know, Mom of the Year right here) have turned them into the world's happiest campers.

The absence of Internet perusing and hours spent typing away opened my day to lots of little projects that have always been idly waiting on the back burner. You know, like mating all the socks and finally throwing away the unfortunate mismatched ones that have been lingering around our laundry room for the past year. Then I got a little energetic one day and tackled the garage, took up mowing the lawn by myself, and even "tried" to plant a few succulents (no green thumb here). On a happier note, and to the excitement of John I even busted out a few new recipes that had been lingering on my Pinterest boards. I've been a list-makin', task-checking fool as of lately.

Seriously, I wish I had more exciting news, but we really were the epitome of mundane. But we're back and ready to try this whole succulent-business again. I hear they're hearty little suckers, but they defeated me.

suggestions?

taking a break.

I sometimes catch myself wishing for the downtime of Winter. Not necessarily for the cabin fever moments, but more for the laziness of late mornings nestled into the deepest crevices of the couch reading a book with hot chocolate in hand as the kids play on the floor. You know what I mean?  It seems so  crazy to think that way especially with the complete transformation Montana takes on during the Summer months, but our days, well they're packed. Jam packed in fact. Park outings, play groups, farmers markets, family visits, vacations, household projects and the list goes on and on. Maybe it's the fear that Summertime will just slip through my grasp if I take any downtime so I take each morsel of the warmth and make the beginning and end of each day full to the brim. 

Still, the constant movement has been taxing, wearing, maybe even a bit bone-tiring? Yes, tiring is the right word.  I'm fairly certain a majority of the issues arise from Addy still waking up in the night. I'm now tinkering on the edge of comatose-type state. And I'm sure I've mentioned it before but after deciding to take on the duty as the Event Chair for our local Relay For Life the last month or so has turned into a tailspin of meetings, phone calls, planning, and adjusting. John and I have joked that it has now turned into a full-time, non-paying job. Don't get me wrong, I function well during stressful situations and I get this uncanny rush of pushing myself and meeting deadlines, so it has been more rewarding than anything. My kids, however, are less inclined to this new pace of life. And with the days dwindling down until Relay the final stretch, single digits, mad dash--or whatever you may call it is quickly approaching. Which I thought would mean bag-blowing and high-levels of hyperventilating, but I'm not. Which in itself is scary because I should be. 

So I'll be the first to admit that I am stretching myself thin--especially is the mom/wife department. I'm sure its evident in my home; laundry still in baskets, packaged meals for dinner, and a little more Netflix than necessary for a three-year-old.  So I'm taking a break from blogging/blog reading/Internet perusing, basically the whole she-bang of time guzzling computer entertainment. The break won't be for long, only for a few weeks, just long enough for me to get my bearings straights, get through Relay, and  give some one-on-one attention to this little family of mine. My hope is that when I come back I will be knee-deep in new projects, fun posts, and hopefully be less sporadic about writing. 

Anyway, enjoy the last few weeks of June. They're fleeting at best.

See you soon.

Things are looking up.

Things are looking up around here, in more than one way actually. Throughout the last week or so I've been constantly catching myself staring up at the trees when we take our daily walks down to the park. Geeze these apple trees are mesmerizing,  their blossoms falling to the ground like gentle snow and the buzzing of bees adds a relaxing flare to a chaotic process of pollinating each flower. And just when I thought that it couldn't get much better a late spring storm has made the snow capped mountain peaks glisten against the greenery of the hills. It really is quite the site to behold. 

Come visit. You won't be disappointed. 

 

//She doesn't give out smiles liberally that's for sure//

We've also been soaking up the Vitamin D like no tomorrow.  For weeks (or maybe even months I suppose) I've  been itching for the smell of green grass and lazy afternoons sitting on the porch. I really am a creature made for warm weather, but alas there is something about this place that tugs at my heart strings even in the dead of winter and somehow it pulls me back in with its wondrous Spring-time treasures. 

For those that know me well it's been a difficult adjustment moving back to a small town and Sunday marked our one-year "moving" anniversary. The people are friendly and the extra time with my family has been such a blessing. My personality on the other hand has always craved movement and a more fast approach to life with little regard for schedules. We live however, in the epitome of Grassroots America--small quiet streets, one grocery store, and a Dairy Queen-like restaurant that is open oply seven months out of the year. All of which have seemed to pull my life into a sort of daily (and dare I say, mundane) rhythm. And for someone who loses interest in routines I've found it to be a bit more difficult to adjust.  So I've had to change--I've learned to need less (that hasn't diminished my love of online shopping though) while also  finding solace for simple moments in life. And the quietness. It's really quiet. 

The awakening of Spring has helped to change our routine as well. The kids has found a new appreciation for all things outdoors and the dirtiness of each day has proven that playing outside is hard work. The lilacs have also come back in full-force. Their smell has taken me back to my childhood in Utah and to our pretend tea parties where lilac soup was the entree' of choice. Bush upon bush line the streets and the overwhelming smell seems to always brighten my spirit. I'm sure everyone says this but you would be hard pressed to find another place that marvels Montana in beauty. 

I think I am starting to like it here. But let's just keep that between you and me...


And don't forget to enter the fun giveaway sponsored by Skip N' Whistle! 

My Life: 250 Words or Less

I've been caught in a rut as of lately. Maybe it's the kids or the lack of sleep but blogging has just turned into a chore that I've kind of started to avoid. Jenni at Story of my Life has this fun little event going on called Blog Ever Day in May. Obviously, I don't need to explain it. 

I nailed it. go ahead count. 

I was born in the Year of the Ox, mesmerizing, yes? Known for being self-confident and obstinate with a twinge of pragmatism running through the veins seems to be the defining features of those born in 1985. As the oldest of four I developed the mothering hen knack at a young age—I was a bonified short stack fire cracker. I never shied away from a fight and even managed to get my first bloody nose by first grade—from a boy no less. To our dismay my parents uprooted our lives in Utah and moved to the vast openness of Montana where we finally settled in the most iconic small town on the Rocky Mountain Front. I even managed to surprise myself when I decided to stay in Montana to attend college. And as luck would have it may have been the best choice I ever made. I met John while he was painting my bathroom (and chasing after my sister). Her loss was my gain? No matter what the case may be we've grown together over the last seven years and after four degrees, two kids, four moves, and a whole slew of takeout meals I still find myself falling for him all over again every day. Cliché, I know. We've had our share of battles, some we've won others we have lost but one thing is for sure, it makes the journey a whole lot better when I have someone else to pin the blame on….joking…or not… 

Danny Zuko hair

This whole postpartum body issue ordeal is getting a bit ridiculous. My body has started to revolt in such an unruly manner that I contemplated asking for a new one. If it were possible and all... Anyway, my hair has taken on this Danny Zuko-esque physique. The moment I get out of the shower this frizzy bomb starts to ooze with some nasty-@$$ greasiness (appealing, right?). To make matters worse my face has gone from combination//oily to sand paper dry. No moisturizer in the world is helping this face. I won't blame it all on the baby blues, but that certainly hasn't helped.

I recently read a series of blog posts about the "no poo" method for hair. Basically it all boils down to using a  baking soda/water combination as a cleanser and apple cider vinegar as a conditioner--that's it. As most of the posts suggested my hair would turn straw-like for a few weeks, hence the hairy flurry above. Over the next month or so my hair should hopefully stabilize itself and I will be back to normal again (but healthier). So far I've been pleasantly surprised, the grease is gone and my scalp feels like it can breathe. It's totally a weird choice of words to use but it actually feels like my follicles are more alive. Here's to the hope of shiny healthy hair again. I'll make sure to report back in a few weeks on the outcome. John isn't optimistic, but seriously, what do I have to lose?

My face on the other hand still needs some tender lovin' care. Any suggestions on great moisturizers?

Simplify.

I'm a firm believer that New Year's Resolutions are matters of the heart. Each year, intentions are set to lose weight, give more-take less, eat healthier, spend more time with loved ones--each goal focused on the end result of bettering oneself.

Last year I aimed to a create a more focused life. While I fell short in a few areas, others have flourished thus altering my own paradigm. Isn't that what it is really all about anyway? Making a conscious effort to change. For the past month or so I have been tossing around the idea of this year's resolution. Usually I settle on something generic like weight loss or less candy consumption. However, I found that I am content with those areas of my life for the time. Instead I decided to focus (there's that word again) on simplifying my life. Nothing to dramatic, just simple things like a more minimalism lifestyle, i.e. toys that don't require batteries, more books and less television, meals that are fresh and not pre-packaged, buying quality instead of quantity, and ultimately going back to the basics of my marriage. 

Laying in bed a few nights ago John confessed that he's felt as though he's been replaced by the children--that any love that I once had for him was being now channeled in our children's direction. It stung and hurt, but truth be told, I knew that I wasn't finding the proper balance between being a wife and a mother. Since the arrival of Addison it has seemed like such a juggling act where if I look away for one moment all the pieces in my life crumble to the floor. 

With that said, I hope to simplify things in my marriage by setting aside time for one-on-one interaction, letting petty nonsense not develop into full-blown battles, and trying to see the daily good in my husband. Someone once told me that if I would set aside five minutes of my time everyday for my husband when he arrived home from work I would start to see small (yet positive) changes happen in my marriage. It's been hard, but the results have slowly begun to resonate. 

Here's to am amazing (and simplified) 2013. Be safe tonight!

Oh time, you sneaky devil...

Wouldn't it be nice to make time stand still? I am really stand still. To the point where you could take in every part of a specific moment--where you could somehow bottle up all the emotions, sounds, smells, and words from an exact time. This was that moment--it was fleeting, but perfect. They were cuddling and laughing with one another while watching Blues Clues. He kept kissing her and telling her that he loved her, she would giggle all the while trying to make her flimsy arms grab his face. The moment was long enough to capture a picture or two, but then it was gone. 

Moments like that are like the stages of life. Short and brief--but lasting in impression. Just yesterday, Addison starting to babble--the once screaming baby who'd just found her voice now says "da-da" incessantly.  My only reassurance is that she doesn't understand what she is saying yet. I still have hope that her first word will be "mama." 

Even Brecken seems to transforming before my eyes. Last night when tucking him into bed I realized my little boy was also no longer a baby. No diapers, no naps, no longer running like a toddler--he has become a tiny (and feisty) little boy. While the days may seem too long and the nights too short it seems like each stage they go through happens too quickly. 

The years together have also been etched on the faces and hearts of John and me--oh, we've had our ups and downs, but there have also been stages that I wish I freeze in time. We've both become a little wiser, learned that differences are what makes a marriage worth fighting for everyday. The pounds gained are signs of contentment and hours spent making and eating meals together. The trials have shown us that faith is the cornerstone to moving forward. The once shy boy and overly flamboyant girl have morphed into learning-as-they-go parents. As I am sure that is true for all of you too. 

Time has been good--but I'd still like a machine to stop it for awhile...

Happy Thursday.

The one time where I got all opinionated...

Politics can be a slippery slope. No one really wants to take the plunge into discussing it because when you do there is no coming back. Actually, there are exceptions to the rule, namely those jack wagons that relish in offending everyone with their nonsense--they enjoy the slippery ride down. This post isn't about politics,  mainly it is about having a voice and and being an active citizen in the democratic process, especially as women.

Yesterday, I heard two ladies in the grocery store discussing how much they hated politics and their disdain for the recent flood of political commercials and mud slinging. One woman remarked, "I can't stand either candidate and why should I, neither one of them will really affect me if elected, so I am not voting."

"Yeah, totally logical thinking," I thought. cough. 

As women, we owe it to all those that fought so we could have a voice in our country. We live in a nation where we not only have the equal right to vote, to work, to live free, to make personal choices--but where we also have a platform to stand up for our beliefs as well--without harm or retribution for having an opinion. Each day, thousands of soldiers fight for these rights, and it only seems fitting that we should set aside a small moment out of hectic schedules to do the one thing that many other countries (including woman) can only dream about. Democracy has not come without pain and suffering--we have a debt to pay, even if it is just voting.  

Taking a stand and voting in our state and national elections is just one of the many ways we can give back to a country that has given so much for us. On November 6th I will be voting. Who I am voting for isn't really important. What is important is that we, the citizens, play a vital role in the future of our nation.  

Truth of the matter is, I don't condone this notion that by not voting an individual can therefore live in ignorance for the next four years, yet still scrutinize wages, taxes, housing, social programs, and a whole slew of other issues surrounding our rights as citizens. Frankly, if you don't vote, don't complain. As for the young woman in the grocery store who truly believed that her life would not be affected by this election I would like to give her a "4-1-1 reality check". The work checks she cashes, the groceries she buys, the gas she puts in her car, the taxes she pays, the simple inalienable rights she takes for granted are very much affected by this election. If she wants to make a change to the system it starts with the simple step of voting. It starts with this simple step for all of us. 

Vote early if you must, cast those absentees, wait in line on Election Day--whatever you choose to do, make sure you vote. "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country." I rarely voice my opinion on matters of a controversial nature, but I think this is a time where all of us have to stand for beliefs, do our due diligence in researching each candidate and the issues, and vote for the future of our nation.

That's all for today's PSA. Carry on friends :)

I am a creature of routines...

{source}

...As I assume most people are to some extent. 

I always thought that at some point I would reinvent myself to be a more carefree individual, that I could somehow trick my soul into following a go-with-the flow spirit. Eventually, I learned that my soul knew me better than I know myself. A life of carefree"ness" was just not written in my book. 

Growing up, I was the first born and with that, I think came this inherit need for perfection. For this so-called persona to be manifested, orderly and well-kept routines needed to be in check at all times. My parents recognized this need for stability and at the young age of ten they bestowed upon me my first Dayplanner. nerdy, yes? I often bragged to my friends about my new scheduled life and the tool that helped to make it possible. I often stated in a matter-of-fact tone that "I would love to come over to play, but first I needed to check my Dayplanner schedule." ...Because we all know how full of a schedule a 6th grader can have...

Perfection was this illusion that I strove for in school as well as at home. I remember watching Cinderella as a child and admiring how clean and minimal her room seemed to be--let's not forget her evil Stepmother sentenced her to a life of servitude. But I wanted her minimal life! I was driven by routines, well established rules, and a structured lifestyle. As I grew older, in the back of my mind I would always tell myself, "I will be ready for marriage when I have graduated from college,  have a career that I love and the money to pay for my own wedding--if I have those things my life will be right on track--then I can share my life with someone else." 

;)

As with most of our lives, reality didn't seem to work out the way. Marriage came and we were dirt poor--so poor that for a good portion of the first year we bought groceries exclusively from the canned food section with gift cards from our wedding. Graduate school came and went with the hopes of high paying jobs, which were soon over shadowed by Brecken's early birth and, not long after, Addison's arrival as well. God then granted me with two child who would defy all odds and not want naps starting at an early age. Soon my desire and need for perfectly maintained routines were replaced with erratic schedules, sleep deprivation, over-indulging in chocolate and snot-covered clothing. 

The Dayplanner has long been retired and now has been replaced with a refrigerator calender that looks more like an elaborate algebra problem--full of scribbles, doctor appointments, grocery lists, and play groups. Motherhood has taken it's toll, while my mind may not be a sharp, and my fashion may be last season, a new sort of perfection has arisen from the piles of dirty laundry in the form of a little boy and little girl that call my Mom.

For me, admitting to being imperfect at motherhood has become perfection.