Good Morning,

I'm awake a bit too early this morning but I have a chance to write, so I thought I'd seize the moment.  

I've been trying to take better care of myself lately by going to the gym at least twice a week (shout out to my Sculpt friends at FlyDog Yoga!) and walk at least 3-4 times a week.  I really prefer to walk outside just so I can breathe in that good Virginia mountain air and reduce my anxiety level from breathless frantic to somewhere near manageable (let's be honest--it RARELY seems manageable to have five children who are nearly three years old and work full-time).

Still, on my walk, I like to jam with Pandora.  Another One Bites the Dust. Devil Went Down to Georgia.  OneRepublic.  LinkinPark.  I jam and I love it.  I groove.  I walk.  I breathe.  It's good stuff.  

One song really triggered me the other day.  You'll laugh when I tell you, but it really meant a lot to me to make this realization.  The song was Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars.  This is a song I used to love--it was a song that when it came on the radio, I really thought good things were coming my way.  

I specifically remember one Sunday morning years ago waking up and taking a pregnancy test.  It was positive.  I called my mom.  She called my sister.  We laughed giddily on the phone and hung up with toothy grins and big plans.

It snowed the night before and our sweet dog Ellie loves the snow as much as I love double stuffed Oreos (read:  ALOT).  I pulled on my deep purple puffer coat, plugged in my earphones, and took Ellie out to play in the snow.  

My sweet ten-year old Ellie

I remember playing Uptown Funk, thinking to myself, "Good things are coming.  We are going to have a family.  He or she is going to have the sweet brown eyes of my husband and the laugh of my Daddy.  They will love National Parks like my father in law and jewel tones like my sister.   This baby will be one for the history books.  Let's go, Bruno Mars."

I danced in the snow with Ellie.  We threw snowballs.  I did grapevines back and forth and laughed heartily as she darted in between the snow "drifts" (Virginia style).  The beat pulsed in my soul and I just knew this joy would carry me though the next nine months.

But then, as most of you know, we lost that baby.  And I rarely listened to Uptown Funk ever again. I felt like that joy wasn't even real.  That because the thing that I hoped for didn't happen, I couldn't access that joy anymore.  It was almost as if that joy had died alongside my baby.  I have felt this way for years.

But just this week, it's almost has if God has peeled away those scabs from my eyes and allowed me to see that that joy was indeed real.  That joy was authentic and it still exists in my heart today.  No, I won't hold that child in my arms until I get to Heaven, but just because joy precedes loss doesn't mean that the joy dies with the loss.

So many of my friends and family are experiencing loss, grief, and sickness.  Even kids going to college or kids going to pre-school.  Divorce, deployment, or even just loneliness in a marriage.  

The message that I've been given today is if you're grieving or feeling a sinking sense of sadness, that feeling doesn't mean that the joy you felt in another moment wasn't real.  Joy is joy no matter what and we shouldn't repress those memories just because the outcome wasn't what we hoped for or what we expected.

I'll leave you with some Uptown Funk.  Let us keep dancing, despite our grief. Our joy was real.  It is real.  No matter where we are today.

Effective Efficiency

Good Morning!

I'm traveling for work this week, so I've had some time to reflect on the last month or so.  Many parents will ask me how I get everything done (laundry, dinners, kid dinners, CostCo shopping, Aldi shopping, full-time job, carpools, speech therapy, etc, etc).

It's a lot--no matter how you slice it.  Many moms ask me for tips or best practices.  I've really only come up with two, but here you go:

1.  Multi-Task, Multi-Task, Multi-Task.  I get a little rush when I can two (sometimes three things) at once.  I wrap birthday gifts while I'm sitting in the car wash.  I'm microwaving sweet potatoes for the kids' lunch while I'm feeding the dog breakfast.  I'm dictating the grocery list on my commute to work.  I'm making the adults' stirfry while the kids are eating their chicken nuggets.  I'm folding laundry while I listen to an audiobook on parenting.  I'm writing thank you notes while my kids are coloring (art for everyone!).

I realize this sounds a little nutty, but it works for me.  Some folks may worry that I'm not "present" with my kids.  But believe me, they insist that I'm present.  Even when I'm multi-tasking, I'm singing Hickory Dickory Dock.  Or I'm hopping like a bunny as I cook.  Yes, it's exhausting, but things get done and my babies are loved.  Like I said, it works for me.

Mommy Snack Time/Rocking Babies

Snuggle Time is Always a Welcome Slowdown (from February 2017)

2.  Choose Tasks Only I Can Do.  As a mom of multiples, I'm thankful that I have help.  We have an amazing au pair.  I've told you about her.  She's a trauma nurse from Thailand.  Wow, I know.  We still have a couple of volunteers who come for a few hours each week to offer an extra reader/play mate to the children.  I also have another "mother's helper" who helps fill in some of the times that our au pair can't work or if I need to work more at my "real" job.

All of this to say, there are a lot of people who can help me.  So, in order to maintain effective efficiency, I choose to do tasks that only I can do.  Volunteers can fold laundry, so I don't spend my time on that before they come to visit.  Only I can meal plan, so I do that first.  Our au pair can pick out clothes for the kids to wear each day, so I choose to find their Easter outfits for next year (shop those sales!).  My husband can mow the lawn, so choose to refill the coffee maker (he always forgets to do this and it can drive me bonkers if I'm tired).

Carpools Save Time

Mommyhood is HARD. And I consider myself tough, efficient, and sometimes tactical.  But this job relies on so many skills that I never realized I needed.  A few other tools that really help me:

• Online grocery shopping/curbside pick up
• Podcasts on parenting
• A huge water cup so I don't get dehydrated (and therefore cranky)
• The Calm app on my smart phone--great for quick mediation or calming down before bedtime.  
• The Plan to Eat app on my smart phone--this app stores all of my recipes so that I can assign them to certain days/meals.  It also them creates a grocery shopping list for me.  

When the girls were small, they used to push each other in the walkers. 

What's New?

Hello Everyone!

I have been struggling to blog lately.  Things are just moving so quickly--it's hard for me to step back and breathe.  But, that's exactly what I need, so thanks for holding me accountable.  This is as good for me as it is interesting to you (well, hopefully).

A lot of folks ask me, so how do you do it?  How do you just get through the day?  Well, as my mama would we say, "We make a plan and we work the plan."  Yes, my husband works outside the home every day and yes, I work outside the home at least three, if not four, days a week.  So we need to make the most of our free time.

Every Saturday, I plan what the kids will eat for both lunch and dinner for the upcoming week.  I also make a list of the special tasks that need to get done every day.  Granted, there are some chores that have to get done no matter what (diaper pails, replenish diapers on the changing table, laundry, dish washing, etc).  Then, if the kids are going out of the house at all for the upcoming week, I pick out clothes/accessories and re-stock the diaper bag.

I also meal plan for the adults.  I use an app called Plan to Eat, which has been a total time saver.  I grocery shop online and do online pick up on the same day I do CostCo so I can reorganize the refrigerator all on the same day.

Grocery totals as of late?  I'd guess 5-6 gallons of milk each week; 1 gallon of apple juice; 120-150 diapers a week; at least one box of cereal and probably a CostCo bag of chicken nuggets and a box-full of yogurt.  These kids may have been preemies, but boy do they EAT.  Breakfast at 8 am; snack at 9:30; lunch at 11:00; nap from 12-2; snack at 3:00; dinner at 5:00; bedtime at 7.

Snack Time

In other news, we said goodbye to our Swedish au pair.  We'll never forget all that she did for our family and the friendship and love she brought to our home.  I definitely cried when I took her to the airport--these women are my both my friends and family.  

We welcomed a new au pair in March, named Jessie.  Jessie is a trauma nurse from Thailand (wow, I agree).  She is so kind and giving--she makes me feel special and supported.  I cannot tell you how grateful I am for her.  The kids absolutely adore her and tell me over and over again how "silly" Jessie is.  Clara also tells Jessie that she loves her.  

Luke loves his Jessie!

We also celebrated Easter a few weeks ago, right before Daddy's birthday.  These celebrations brought the kids' first experience with candy.  My obsession with smocked clothes still lives--and now the kids know exactly how delicious food really can be.

I think that's all for now.  I'm going to do some reflecting on Mother's Day.  I imagine I'll have more to write then.  

The Darkness

Hello Out There!

I can't believe I haven't written in so long.  Can you believe I have five two-year-olds?  All at once, I believe it and then again, I can't.  Some days it feels like I could walk back into that dimly-lit Arizona NyICU and hear the slow moans of the scary, life-altering machines.  Other days it feels like there is a tornado in my house, complete with the hum of toy cars, the ear-splitting chords of toddler tantrums, and the heart-warming chime of Isabelle chanting "HOORAY!" as she does her best bunny hop.

I could recount everything that's happened over the past few months, but it would take too long (my bad) and it probably wouldn't be as silly (or stressful) if you didn't live it.  But, I did have a message I wanted to share with you.  

Luke recently started climbing out of his crib (collective sigh from all the moms out there).  I was worrying myself to death about him crawling out of the crib and hurting himself.  As I laid in bed each night, I read about the crib tents.  Those didn't seem like the right fit for us, so I bit the bullet.  I let Luke sleep in a toddler bed.  Granted, Luke has a room to himself (escape the estrogen!) so this evolution hasn't affected the girls.  Well, beyond their jealously of his toddler bed that I found for free on Facebook.  

I digress.  So, we let him start sleeping in the toddler bed, so those of you who have done this transition before know that he did everything but sleep in the bed.  He wanders around the room, looking for trouble, playing with his toys, doing hand puppets in the night light, and anything else he can think of.

One night, he was moaning. So after the allotted 12 minutes of our self soothing philosophy, I got up to go help him calm down.  Luke has a toy bus that he LOVES.  It's one of the few things that I don't let his sisters play with--it's his very own toy. The boy doesn't really have a "lovey," so I keep the bus sacred.  Everybody needs a something, right?

So, I go into his room to help him settle and I can't find the bus. Ugh.  It's dark in his room and I'm feeling around everywhere, trying to find the all-important bus.  I can't find it.  I don't want to turn on the light because that will screw everything up, but I need this dang bus.  The sound machine is whooshing, the boy is crying, and mama is tired.  The dark was so disorienting.  I start to go down the rabbit hole.

He's never going to sleep again.
Am I going to be tired for the rest of my life?
What if I fall asleep at the wheel someday?
Do we have enough life insurance?
Is it time to turn the carseats to forward facing?
Wait.  Where's the bus?

The dark disoriented me and it allowed panic and sadness to run away with my heart.  Finally, this sleep deprived mama remembered her IPhone had a flash light (duh, I know.  I know.  I haven't slept a full night in weeks. Throw me a bone, people).  

I flip on the flashlight and there, right beside my right pinky toe, was the bus.  It was there all along.  Even though I felt like I'd never find it.  That the misery would never end.  That I'd exhausted every single one of my resources.  

It was there all along.

I think a lot of us have these moments, right? There is darkness in all of our lives.  Fears, anxieties, medical bills, addictions, sick pets, arthritis, houses that won't sell, cancer, grief, you name it.   The darkness can overtake us and despair gets the best of us.  

Despair is especially hard during the holidays.  We're supposed to be joyful. Supposed to be full of song and jolly ho-ho-ho's. Well, sometimes we're not.  And that's ok.  My word of advice tonight is don't forget the light.  Don't feel around in the dark all night.  Remember, you have lights to guide you.  Whether that's your faith, your friends, or maybe just a chuckle you get from your kid or an I Love Lucy episode, use the light.  Use the light and let it show you as much as it can.

We'll never have all of the answers or even most of them. We don't know how this life is going to turn out, but I promise you--the light is stronger than the darkness and it has so much more to offer.  Including the beloved yellow bus.

Here are some of my favorite recent photos with these sweet spirits.  

Ava

Millie

Luke

Clara

Isabelle

The Vows of Family

In this family, we love family.  I mean, we love it.  We drive through the night.  Cook huge meals.  Send silly birthday cards.  Play touch football.  Do scavenger hunts.  Take group naps.  And most of all, we show up for other.  That's what we do--that's who we are.  We show up.

So, when Michael's brother Brian and his fiance (now wife!) Janelle asked us if the kiddos could serve as attendants in their wedding, we agreed.  Most people told us we were crazy to take 5 eighteen-month olds all the way to Pittsburgh for the weekend, but as a family, we show up for each other.  So there was never a second thought.

As June 30 approached, our au pair Jess and I went into planning mode.  There was a checklist.  There was a checklist of the checklist.  There was a timeline.  There was a master schedule, complete with wardrobe changes.  That's one of the many things I love about Jess.  She functions like me.  She plans.  She thinks.  She checks lists.  She's truly is an amazing au pair and human.  She will go far in life.  I just know it.  

I worry Ava may want to move to Sweden come February of 2019.

Since we need five pack n plays to go anywhere, we realized renting a hotel room probably wouldn't work.  So, the bride helped us find a home that we could rent. It was a great size and despite the babies refusing to follow their normal sleep schedule (!!!), they looked adorable in their outfits for the rehearsal.

Luke Thomas

The girls practicing their walk down the aisle with Daddy.

This man is incredible with kids.

Unfortunately, the kiddos refused to sleep much during their first night away from home, so this was one tired Mama Bear.  Thanks to coffee, a cold shower, and some old fashioned umph, we prepped for the wedding.  Michael had to go early to join in the wedding party festivities, so Jess and I dressed and loaded all five kiddos and got them to the wedding. 

Thankfully, the bride had a separate room for our kids to play while the wedding was going on.  

I absolutely loved the dresses the bride picked out for the kiddos.  

 

Sweet, thoughtful Clara

Millie loves to count the cups.

I love watching Jess play chase with the kiddos.  It's so much more fun (and less tiring!) when she does it.

Then, the big moment arrived.  Clara and Ava walked down with their Dad.  I started out walking with Isabelle and Millie; however, when Izzy got clingy, Millie decided she could walk on her own.  I love my independent girl.  Michael's brother, Chris, carried our big guy, Luke, down the aisle.  Luke was much more interested in playing outside than he was in the church service.

Clara and Ava

Millie

Isabelle

 

Luke and Uncle Chris

The wedding was fantastic.  The bride was effortlessly beautiful and her groom only had eyes for her.  I have loved watching those two fall in love.

When we arrived at the reception, the kiddos were starving and desperate to run wild.  So, with the help of Michael's aunt/uncles/cousins, they did just that.  It's tough on a Mama when her babies are running in all different directions with different people.  I feel like my neck needs to be on a swivel, like an owl.
 

Luke and Grandpa

When the kids grew tired, we loaded them in Bubba Bus and Jess took them back to the rental house while Michael and I stayed at the reception.  

As soon as I loaded the kids in the bus and returned to the reception, I sat down and burst into tears.  Ugh, yes, I was that crazy lady crying at a wedding reception.  I was just so. darn. tired.  And stressed.  From diaper covers to pacifiers to snacks to matching shoes to sleeping schedule to germ prevention to juice refills to......ugh, I was just out of gas.  

I'm so glad the kiddos could share in this special day, but it was tough on this Momma.  I hope that I can grow less structured over time and maybe not get so stressed out in the future, but I make no promises!

Still, I'm so thankful for this family and our place in it.  Cheers to the new Mr. and Mrs. Baudinet!

Dear Body

Good Morning,

As some of you know, I was recently diagnosed with a herniated disc in my back.  For most, this would be annoying, painful, and perhaps routine-altering.  Yep, that's me.  Times five, of course.  It seems like so much in my life is times five.  

Diapers?  Times five.
Wipes?  Times five.
Pajamas?  Times five.
Meatballs?  Times five.
Sliced fruit?  Times five.
Lovies needed for bedtime?  Times five.

But that's ok with me.  Because each of these kiddos is a baby of one.  They have their individual needs and individual personalities.  They don't know that I have to put pajamas on four other babies--they just know that I put on their pajamas and kiss their nose before bed.

Yet, I digress.  

My body and I have a love/hate relationship.  Mostly hate these days, if I'm being honest.  So, I've decided to do what I do when I'm struggling in one of my relationships.  I write a letter.  This tends to be my solution to most relationship challenges.  So, here we go:

Dear Body,

You and I have been through alot and I'm truly thankful for you.  In the beginning, you and I worked together to train in the art of dance for 22 years.  You endured all of that stretching, uncomfortable toe pointing, and joint-rattling jumping.   We were a unit.  You did what I needed you to do--and I loved what we produced together.  We were art--and I was proud of our accomplishments.  I loved that we could entertain an audience.  

Then came college and graduate school.  We continued to spend most of our time in the dance studio--or the library.  Brain, you did your thing.  We were firing on all cylinders.  Exhaustion rarely plagued us.  We were inspired by our surroundings and reveled in the academic fellowship.  We read The Odyssey, Beowulf, and all of Edmund Spencer.  I wrote countless papers on Shakespeare, John Locke, and Winston Churchill.  Body, I loved that we worked as a unit.

Yes, nerds can have fun too!

Then came marriage.  With the retirement of our dance career, Body, you and I worked hard to get ready for that wedding dress.  We did daily elliptical runs, weight lifting, and dieting.  And Body, you responded.  You recognized the need to shape up--and you did.  I've never felt more beautiful than I did on our wedding day.  Thanks for rising to the occasion.

Years passed and we worked together.  You rarely failed me.  We slept well.  Worked out.  Rarely got sick and remembered almost every name of any student we worked with at UVA.  I didn't even take vitamins and you were thriving.  

Ellie was our only child!

Honeymoon in Greece and Turkey

Then, I wanted to get pregnant.  I wanted to be someone's mom.  I wanted the bike riding, the giggles, and the hair bows.  And, body, you didn't seem to get it.  I took your temperature.  I took vitamins.  I took ovulation tests.  I did everything I could to help you.  And you failed me.  

We lost two babies.  Two human lives.  We couldn't save them.  You couldn't nurture them.  I couldn't be their mommy.  Those babies I will only meet in Heaven when you, Body, are no more.  

We learned to lean on each other during this time more than any other.

And then, we were pregnant again.  And very, very pregnant.  We found a specialist.  You, Body, had a major task in front of you.  I remember watching the 2016 Summer Olympics and thinking, "This pregnancy is our Olympics, Body.  I sure hope you can pull through on this one." 

Then, the doctors sent us to a dietician.  You needed to consume 4,500 calories a day.  I needed to feed you every 2-3 hours.  You needed to process that food and store as much of it as you could.  Our stomach would start losing capacity once the babies began to grow.  I was scared.  I felt like I was literally feeding you to keep the babies alive.  We were eating for life--not for nutrition or even pleasure.  We ate to keep the babies alive.  I remember packing two Ensure shakes every day for work.  I remember eating avocado on nearly everything--even things that shouldn't have avocado (yes, there are such things).

And then the pain came.  Pain in our back.  Pain in our ribs.  Pain in our hips.  Pain to bend over.  Pain to stand up.  Pain to roll over in bed.  Lightheaded feelings when laying on my back.  Breathless feelings when walking to the bathroom.  Then, the emotions came.  The fear, the frustration, the grief.  I mourned a "normal" pregnancy.  I didn't get to do a baby shower with my Virginia friends.  I didn't get to see people around town and smile knowingly at them.  I didn't get to register at Babies R Us standing on my own two feet.  No no, we were wheelchair bound by then.  

So, Body, I felt like you were barely hanging on.  We were barely hanging on.  And then, the delivery came and you were cut open to bring these five beautiful babies into the world. 

And they are beautiful.  We did a good job growing them.  That I know.  Between 3 and 4 pounds each, they were remarkably healthy.  We did a good job, Body.  I/We need to remember that.

 

L to R:  Millie, Clara, Luke, Isabelle and Ava

But the recovery was hard on us, too, Body.  You continued to struggle with the incision and breast feeding was so hard.  We couldn't nurse our babies in the hospital, so we sat in lonely hospital rooms and pumped.  And pumped.

And then we pumped at home.  We ate lactation cookies. We drank all sorts of weird teas and juices.  And then you kept getting clogged ducts and the pain increased.  And then mastitis set in.  You could barely take any more.  I remember crying as I leaned over in a hot shower trying to relieve the pain from a clogged duct with an electric toothbrush.  We were broken, Body.  We just couldn't provide for these babies.  It was just too much.  We had given too much.  Been asked too much.  Suffered too much.

So breast feeding had to stop after only three months.  But, that was it.  We had to do something for ourselves.  You and me, Body, we are the people who got those babies through eight months of gestation and three months of breast feeding.  Well, us, and God.  Thank you, Lord, for sustaining us.  

And then the baby care really kicked in.  We were home from Arizona and back in our bed (hallelujah!).  But, sleep didn't come.  It rarely did (does).  And everything we did never felt like enough.  There was always more housework.  Another baby that needed us.  And then I got frustrated with you.  You, Body, you couldn't do everything I needed you to.  

You can detect my exhaustion by how dirty my hair becomes.

You were tired.  You were sore.  You weren't superhuman.  And that frustrated me.  Moreover, I hated the way we looked.  There was this disgusting, wrinkly blubber that now served as an overhang on what used to be my abdomen.  I was so embarrassed, especially when people on the street would ask me when I was due (Ummm...NEVER again, thank you very much). 

Nothing fit.  You didn't go back to normal like most women's bodies did. You sweat all the time.  Putting on make up?  Sweating.  Washing dishes?  Sweating.  Sleeping?  Yes, you guessed it, sweating then, too.  

And now, 19 months into this whole motherhood thing, you and I are still struggling in our relationship.  I am so frustrated with your refusal to do the things we used to be able to do.  I'm frustrated that you don't burn calories the way you used to.   That we can't seem to rid ourselves of this ridiculous belly pooch.  And now, our back is busted?  This is ridiculous.  We are only 33 years old.  I shouldn't feel this broken--this let down by my own body.

So, a few weeks ago, I came to a realization.  I haven't been treating you very well, dear Body.  I barely feed you under the guise of being too busy.  I rarely allow you to work out, unless you count carrying babies up and down the stairs.  I don't take you to yoga anymore.  I don't allow you to sleep, must less just rest and take deep breaths.  I don't feed you food that would fuel you, unless hershey bars and wine are the new fad diet?  Me thinks not.

So, Body, here's the plan.  I'm going to stop hating you and start trying to serve you.  Eat balanced meals regularly throughout the day.  I'm going to take you to the gym and let you burn off some steam.  I'm going to stretch and help you find some inner balance with all of those muscles that were stretched (and in some instances, torn).

Body, I know you're doing your best.  I am too.  I want to start working with each other--not against.  Let's try to treat each other better.  We have this one life and these five precious souls.  Let's find peace.

 
 

Be Kind--Rewind

Do ya'll remember when we used to rent movies (VHS, of course) at an actual movie store?  I'm not sure the high school students I work with even know what at VHS is.  Remember that the movie stores used to ask us to "be kind and rewind" the video tapes before returning them?  Yep, me too.  I think it's official--we're getting old.  (Insert groan here.  Oh and the herniated disc in my back.  Just delightful). 

Be kind.  That's the topic for today.  Someone once told me that kindness is different than being nice.  Nice doesn't come from a center of love and compassion.  It's more surface than that.

Kindness.  Kindness comes from a place of joy and of love.  As we've seen this week with the suicides of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain, struggle isn't limited to those of us who have a weekly grocery budget.

Struggle is everywhere, especially internally.  We all fight the silent struggle.  Are we good enough at our work?  Are we smart enough?  Thin enough? Successful enough?  A good enough parent?  A good enough friend?  A good enough daughter/son?  Do we love enough?  Do we sleep enough? Do we read enough to our children?   It's like the calculus classes I took all those years ago.  We discussed limits.  Sometimes, the limit does not exist.  In the same vein, enough does not exist.  It never will.

So, dear friends, I want us to be kind to ourselves.  Yes, be kind to others, but please be kind to yourself.  I see a Christian counselor every week.  She's such a source of support (and sanity!) for me.  When we first welcomed the kiddos into our home, I remember describing the chaos to her.

Megan, there are five mouths that need to eat at the same time.  So, I hold one bottle with my foot and two others with each hand.  Then, I'll prop one bottle on a pillow and hope the other one sleeps peacefully until I can get one of the others to a burping spot.  And there are spit-stained burp clothes EVERYWHERE.  I feel like a failure if I can't feed my baby (ies) a full bottle.  I want them to finish strong!  And I'm supposed to cook dinner?  And work out?  And be a normal adult outside the home?  I haven't weeded my flowerbeds in weeks..I haven't organized my sock drawer in months..I haven't updated my five year plan all year...how can I be normal?

Yes, that was the old me.  God bless my sweet counselor.  She dealt with the ambitious, competitive, perfectionist me for many years. I began to shed that version of myself with each changing of a dirty diaper.  As we enter parenthood, we lose more and more control of the life we thought we had.  That shook me to my core for quite some time (still does!), but I've come to realize that I must be kind to myself.  

On the to-do list for today:  be kind to self.

Easier said that done, right?  As my counselor and I have navigated these last 18 months, we've come up with a new mantra for me.  One that has gotten me through so many rough nights, dirty kitchens, spills, wrinkled laundry, and screaming babies.  One that has taught me that perfection doesn't exist.  

My new mantra is "good enough."  The kids ate boxed mac and cheese two days in a row?  Oh well, they're fed.  That's good enough.  Luke tinkled on the wall when I changed his diaper.  Oh well. I wiped it up with Izzy's dirty pajama top.  That's good enough.  We're eating chicken casserole for a third time this week.  Oh well.  Good enough.  Hardly any of my clothes fit the way they used to, so I'm going to invest in a solid Old Navy wardrobe of washable, wearable clothes.  Yep, you guessed it.  Good enough.

So, today, let's all choose to see that we are good enough.  Be kind to yourself.  Rewind all of the beauty and joy God has given you.  With as much sadness and darkness in this world, we have to learn how to rewind the joy and hold onto it.  Let's do it together.

Some silly photos/videos to make you smile:

Mama and Millie

Luke and Isabelle

Millie and Luke

Dad and Luke

Long day of play outside

Clara and Millie

Ava

Mom and Luke

 

Watching Swedish cartoons with Pop Pop