20 Things I'm Realizing as a Parent

Photo by Lisa Turner Photography. Please do not use without written permission from myself and Lisa. Thank you.

I spent a lot of time yesterday thinking about parenting. The way I was parented then, the way I'm parented now (you can't tell me your parents don't still parent you in some way!). The type of kid I was then, the type of 'kid' I am now. The way I'm parenting, the way I want to parent.

Especially as I'm a parent to a very young child, I want to make it clear that I'm learning. Always learning. By the moment, by the hour, by the day. So feel free to scoff and completely write off this list, because my kid is only two. I certainly don't know everything; I'm certain I never will. 

But here -- here are some things I'm realizing. Take them, leave them. Hate them, love them.

1. I said it above, but I'm going to say it again. We will never know everything. What we should strive to understand is what works for our children and for our family. No one is experiencing what you're experiencing. Keep this in mind, especially when you feel the urge to be critical, or find that someone is critical of you.
2. No one's ideas are stupid. Unless those ideas involve no boundaries whatsoever, or isolation or violence.
3. Be in the moment. I cannot even begin to tell you how I struggle with this. My Type A personality has me thinking over everything 'undone.' My to-do list that grows even longer on days when I'm especially in the moment as a mother and wife. When you have a husband who is only home for weeks at a time, you don't want to spend those precious moments cleaning ... no matter how distracting your dirty house is to your Type A self. Being in the moment also applies to defiance, tantrums, delayed bedtimes -- where I struggle even worse. No matter how much you may want to scream in that moment, it is only a moment. If you need to scream, do it. Just not in the face of your child. The look of fear on your little one's face is not worth it.
4. Tell your children you love them, often, and with conviction. I once read a comment thread in which someone was trying to convince the other parents that we can be too free with our "I love you"s, that telling your children you love them "too much" will spoil them. Well, if I am going to 'spoil' Maile, I'd much rather have it be with love than anything else.
5. No one else cares about your parenting that much. I realize that this point is a bit ironic in a post about parenting, but what I mean is simply this: Everyone is doing their best. And because we're all so darn insecure, not wanting to end up on 60 Minutes in 25 years (Is that show still on?), we put on airs of bravado. Our way is best, thank-you-very-much. Those little digs and jabs can hurt, yes, but as not everything changes between the ages of 17 and 27, they're usually just a sign of wavering confidence. A feeble attempt to boost their own self-worth as a parent by undercutting yours.
6. You should never be too busy for your children.
7. Children are simple: they need love, boundaries, and consequences. And yeah, I know the application of these things is anything but simple. Figuring out the appropriate 'balance' (I hate that word) isn't simple. But it is simple to remind yourself of this in the heat of a frustrating moment, to give yourself time to take a deep breath, think, and then act. 
8. This too shall pass.
9. You cannot change yourself in a day.
10. The way you parent affects other people. And not just in a potentially horrifying 60 Minutes way.
11. 'Mom guilt' (or 'dad guilt') does you no good. If you don't like the way you reacted to a situation, change it, whether that means changing your actions the next time around, or asking for forgiveness.
12. No one is getting out of this without scars. Maybe that sounds dramatic. Or, if you're not yet a parent, downright scary. Being a parent is one of the most wonderful gifts in the human experience; it can also hurt.
13. Be honest with yourself.
14. Your child doesn't fit into a neat little box crafted by pediatric guidelines, school systems, or society; don't force them into it. As long as they aren't disturbing other shoppers, let them sing in Target. Maybe they'll grow up to be a Broadway star. Maybe they'll grow up, won't be able to carry a tune, but will have a contagious joy of music. Either way, I'm sure they'll remember that you let them sing in Target.
15. You are not guaranteed tomorrow. No pressure. 
16. You are enough. You have enough. I'm not crafty. Right now, we can't afford lessons and classes and paid activities. I love to read; I can read to Maile for hours. I'm musical; I can teach Maile how to play Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star on her xylophone, and help her strum some basic chords on my guitar. I love to cook; she can count and measure with me as we make meals and memories together. You don't have to have it 'all' for your little one to have a rich childhood.
17. You choose the way you parent.
18. You're not too old or too mature to dance in the living room, or giggle under the covers, or make a fort, or skip down the sidewalk, or eat dessert first.
19. If you're going to spend money, spend more on experiences and memories than you do on things.
20. At the end of the day, your child wants you ... just. you.

Speaking of not spending money on things, our current giveaway is for a pair of gorgeous custom Baby Lupo moccasins. Enter here.

And here's the post that got me thinking.

iFavorite

My favorite iPhone pic from the past week:

I am of the opinion that dads can fall asleep anytime, anywhere. ;)

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And speaking of Instagram, I've teamed up with sponsor Diana Meredith Designs for a fabulous IG giveaway; be sure to check it out! 

On Pink Flowered Bounce Castles, and Disappointment

Over the fence, she saw the giant, pink-and-purple, flower-covered bounce castle inflate yesterday morning. She asked to play in it, but easily found something else to do (she had a friend over) after I told her, "We'll have to see. That isn't our castle, so we need to be invited to play in it." 

In the evening, we found ourselves outside once again. This time, she wasn't so easily distracted from the awesome anomaly in our neighbors' yard. "It's the castle!" she exclaimed. "Yes, it is," I confirmed. Only now, the castle had kids from 2-10, jumping around inside, shrieking happily. "Maile play in the castle?" she asked again. "I don't know, sweetheart. That isn't our castle, so you need to be invited to play in it." She looked thoughtful, and started walking slowly toward the back fence. When she got there, she stood for two or three minutes before 'it' started. "Hey! Hey! Look at our castle! Hey! We have a castle!" "I see that!" I yelled back, with a forced smile on my face. His parents gave me a wave of acknowledgement, and went inside.

I'll admit it: I teared up. And then I got angry. And then I took a deep breath, and walked to the back of the yard -- this time, ignoring the boy shouting at us. I took Maile by the hand and said, "Hey! You know what sounds fun to me? Ice cream!" Without taking her eyes off the castle, she lifted her brows, "Ice cream?" "Pink ice cream. How about a movie, too?" "Mama snuggle you?" she turned toward me ... "Of course I will."

We walked hand in hand back to the house, and had a wonderful evening: ice cream and snuggles and a movie. She didn't bring up the castle again.

I wasn't so much trying to avoid the issue, as I was trying to let her lead the discussion. I also wasn't going to let her stand along the fence looking forlorn all evening either, though. Maybe she'll bring it up tomorrow, and if she does, we will talk it out as best we can; if she doesn't, that's fine too.

My question for you is, how do you deal with children inevitably being let down by other children? We really aren't a "Life is hard, get a  helmet," family ... and I can tell you with certainty that that approach will never work with Maile. So, what do you say? What do you do? Looking forward to your input, my friends.

Note: The photo above wasn't taken yesterday, and Maile is not upset in the photo -- just looking down while reading a book.

Maile's headband c/o Kindred Oak.

iFavorite

My favorite iPhone pic from the past week:

This photo is from one of two nights this week that Maile slept in her own bed. I've had a lot of people ask how we approach sleep 'training,' especially given Tim's strange schedule, and the fact that our circumstances at home are constantly changing. Sleep is a whole other animal when "Dada" is home for a couple of weeks, then gone for a couple of weeks. There's an element of our lives that never settles, and it's sometimes not so fun trying to explain to your toddler, when you just want her to go to sleep, that Dada will read her the "Dada monster book" in x more days. My honest answer is that bedtime around here can be difficult. Not always, but it can be. And also, that though we have a set bedtime routine, there is no 'training.' We are a bed-sharing / co-sleeping family, and because once Maile is asleep, she does sleep so well, we firmly believe that she'll let us know when she's ready to move into her own space. So now you know our secret -- the family bed. Plus, we love to snuggle, and I don't know about you, but sleep and snuggles can cure just about anything around here. :)

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*Don't forget to enter our current giveaway!

I Can Do Bad All By Myself

• How long can I possibly spend killing brain cells reading the comment sections under news stories? I tell myself over and over again, "Don't do it; you'll want to tear out your eyes and move to the moon." Then I go and do it anyway. Who's coming with me to the moon? You get to drop 1/6th of the pounds on the scale, there. Cheesecake for everyone!
• I realized that Maile called our security system monitoring service not once, but twice, this week! One call was over 5 minutes. What did she talk to them about, I wonder?
• If trophies were given for ability to put one's foot in one's mouth, I'd have a large gold foot displayed squarely in the center of one of our bookshelves.
• I've been selling quite a few unneeded items through a local buy/sell/trade group, and one of our neighbors has taken to conveniently being outside every time she sees a new vehicle in front of our home. I'm no Walter White -- promise!
• If I don't have a deadline, I will draw a project out as long as humanly possible, until I have to apologize 10,000 times for whatever I'm doing being so late. If you get a birthday card from me within 6 months of your actual birth date, I really, really love you. If I want to thank you for something, I probably still haven't, so if you're one of the many awesome people in my life, whether online, or 'real,' I love you, and I appreciate you, and maybe someday check your mailbox. Just not this week.

'Fess up -- What do you do 'badly', without any help at all? ;)

If you entered our Pretty in Pink giveaway, sponsored by All That Glitters, check here to see if you won! Happy Friday!

On Raising a Disney Princess

When I was pregnant with Maile, I carefully curated a long list of 'won't's. We won't let her watch TV until she's at least four years old. I won't ever yell at her. We won't even introduce her to Disney ...

I don't know why I fixated on Disney as a negative entity. I did, though. Maybe it was all the uber-natural, and attachment parenting websites I was drawn to. Maybe it was the fact that all the super-cool, trendy moms I followed in the blogging world probably balk at their child being seen in a character tee. ::gasp:: Maybe it was all of my grad school classmates who bragged about not having a television. Whatever it was, I decided Disney was bad for my daughter.

Then, Maile arrived. We hadn't a clue what to do with her six pounds of gorgeousness, but we managed ... We managed to keep the TV and computer screens off when she was awake. We managed to not buy any Disney books, or plush toys, or clothing. We managed to play classical music for her, and read to her every single day. Our babysitter taught Maile sign language, and we managed to be pretty dang proud.

I'm racking my brain, trying to remember when Maile was first exposed to Disney, but I can't recall the moment, or item, or whatever it was ... I clearly remember that we tried desperately to get Maile attached to a lovey, without success. I wore carefully selected stuffed animals around in my shirt for days, because I read that my 'scent' would make her love them more; she didn't take to any of them for more than a week. Then, one day, shortly before her first birthday, Tim grabbed a Mickey from a shelf at Target, and handed it to Maile. Click. Love. What is it about that mouse, who looks very little like a mouse? 

When I realized that Mickey wasn't going anywhere, I carefully wrote Maile's name on his tag (in red Sharpie, to match his iconic red shorts), and nostalgically, scenes from the Toy Story movies flashed through my brain. I love those movies -- their imagination ... but most of all, their hope.

More than a few strangers told us that Maile looked like Boo, from Monsters, Inc., and Sulley found his way into her collection. Dear friends bought her a Disney princess anthology for her first birthday; we read from it to our darling girl. She watched an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse; a plush Donald Duck joined the family. One night, one of our dogs decided Mickey's nose looked appetizing, and Tim's mom performed minor surgery to fix Mickey's "ouch!" Shortly before Maile's second birthday, Tim DVR'd the Sofia the First movie; he was so excited about our first movie night with Maile. And yes, Sofia was pretty cool, but Maile really loved the scene with Cinderella. 

All of these things brought to mind my own Disney memories. My first movie theater experience was Beauty and the Beast on the big screen; I remember my parents picking me up from kindergarten one day, with the VHS in hand. When Snow White was re-released in theaters, my mom let me and my younger sister play hooky, and drove us to the 'big city' for the show. I still dream of seeing The Lion King on Broadway, someday. And yes, when I'm sick, Beauty and the Beast is one of my go-to comfort movies (along with 'big girl' fairy tales, like Sabrina, and Ever After). 

I've come across so many blog posts, opinion pieces, even articles, about how Disney is doing girls wrong. Do I agree with all of Disney's decisions? Certainly not. Do I push princesses and pink and all things girly on Maile? If you believe that, you don't know me at all. But even the ditziest of Disney princesses (I can't decide if that award goes to Ariel, or Snow White) has something to teach my daughter. Following her dreams, for example. Being gracious and kind, even to those who wish you ill. Learning to step out into the world, even when you're afraid. That it's okay to be bookish. And someday, I hope she'll see that maybe it's the prince who needs rescuing. ;)

Maile clack, clack, clacks around the house in her Ariel dress-up shoes, wearing the mermaid costume my parents gave her. She sings as she lovingly gives her toys check-ups, which almost always end in declarations that they need stitches. She wears her Minnie nightgown outside, in the mornings, insisting on sharing her toast with "Maile's birdies." (Yes, seriously.) She twirls around me as she does my hair, "just like Rapunzel, Mama! You're beautiful!" 

She loves planes -- especially fighter jets. She stages elaborate train crashes, with major sound effects. She wants to ride a dragon someday, and asks why we can't see dinosaurs at the zoo. If you ask her, she'll tell you her favorite color is blue. She's a downright rabid baseball fan.

All the little boys I know are obsessed with construction equipment; I've never heard, "Aren't you afraid so-and-so will grow up to be ... blue collar?!" Bring a Disney princess into the mix, and suddenly you're part of the 'system,' so obviously rigged against girls. "Girls can be anything!" Except princesses, it would seem.

Okay, so Jasmine's proportions are wildly unrealistic. A prince probably won't sweep Maile off her feet and marry her (though it did happen to Grace Kelly, and Queen Noor ... just saying). Maile can't talk to animals, and songbirds wearing hats aren't going to help her with her chores.

Until the cynicism of adulthood too-quickly descends on our sweet girl, though, we will let her be little. Let her imagination take her to wonderful, far-off places. Let her sing and dance, and wear mermaid fins to dinner. Let her be a princess.

And, occasionally, buy her character t-shirts.

Maile's headband c/o Bizzy B Crafts.

Speaking of pink, our current giveaway -- sponsored by All That Glitters -- ends Friday. Enter here!

Western Wanderlust // "In a Tent!"

I used to think that camping wasn't for me. (Glamping is whole different story ...) It makes me sad to reminisce over this -- the fact that I was actually much less open to new experiences before Maile came along. Then again, doing different things, and getting to also see these activities through Maile's eyes, is something kind of wonderful. (Also, slightly more terrifying, as there are about a million ways for a curious toddler to injure herself while camping.)

So thankful for this family of mine, and for lovely friends who invite us to places we've never been. I don't doubt for a moment that Maile will remember "going camping! In a TENT!" I can't wait to go camping in a tent again.

Sand Through Her Hands

Five minutes before these photos were taken, I was about to pull out my hair. Maile wanted me to hold her. We were hiking up quite the incline, nearing the tallest point of the dunes at Great Sand Dunes National Park. She was making her displeasure with waking up in the hiking pack, on her dada's back, known by sobbing "Mama hoooold you, Mama hoooooold you ..." We were all sweaty and tired, and I felt a flash of angry words pop up into the back of my throat. Thankfully, I caught them there, and they never escaped my lips ...

I hope you know what I'm talking about.

And then, we were there. It didn't quite seem so much like the top of the world, as it did the top of some strange and distant land. 

She picked up a handful of sand and let it go, grain by grain, flowing seamlessly into the wind that created the great dunes. 

In that moment, even though I captured it on camera, I didn't know quite what to do. My heart stopped in my chest, and I just stared at her, wanting to scoop her up like the sand that so fascinated her, and never let her go. She was spellbound, yet so free. And that stitch in time, as all like it, made the frustrating five minutes before so worth it. It really did.

Maile, at Two

A month or so ago, our little Maile girl turned two years old. It went by so quickly, the first two years of her life. When I was pregnant, and grandmothers would nod knowingly at my belly and cluck, "Enjoy it while you can! Soon that baby in there will be grown and gone," I didn't know just how much truth was in those words. Or maybe I just didn't want to. Warp speed. That's how fast it goes.

While Maile dreams, she grows. She'll do something new for the first time tomorrow. Maybe suddenly be too long for all her tees -- again. It brings tears to my eyes. 

I confess that, when she was an infant, I often found myself wishing I could find a fast forward button. Now I just want to find a way to press pause. Her hair smells of coconut and baby sweat when she's sleeping hard. After a fit, her temples break out in tiny, perfect, angry polka-dots, that make her look like a beautiful, infuriated fairy. She still needs us. She climbs up into our laps, pulls our arms around her tightly, and says, "Snuggle me." I know it will end all too fast.

It does keep getting better, it's true. I still wish life would slow down, if only a little.

Maile, I wasn't one of those mothers who was certain I would love you, before you were even born. In fact, one of my greatest fears was that I wouldn't be able to love you enough. I suppose that fear has evolved into me being afraid that I won't be able to show you how much I love you. But I'll keep trying.

xo

Mama

Breathe

Our gorgeous girl with her morning chamomile -- and some pretty serious bedhead. Sometimes the photos I think I "messed up" end up being my favorite.

Take a deep breath, and breathe.

It's easy to forget sometimes.

Some afternoons, Maile is leaning out the back door, jumping up and down yelling, "Woooooow! Jet. airplane! Jet. airplane!" as fighter jets scream overhead. I'm trying to make the most of my 15 minutes of phone time with Tim. I yell, "Do you see Mommy on the phone? I'm talking to Dada, so just be quiet for a second!" A moment later, I'm kneeling in front of Maile, apologizing ... asking for a hug. But she doesn't hug me just yet. Because I forgot to breathe.

Some mornings, as I'm dashing to the compost bin with eggshells, I trip over our mopey English Cocker Spaniel, Teddy, and I dramatically sigh, "Gahwd, Teddy! Why are you always under foot?" And I forget to breathe.

Some evenings, Tim is snuggling me a little too tightly. I'm hot and uncomfortable, and I can't move because there's a toddler on the other side of me. I shove him and hiss, "Babe! Move over!" I forget to breathe.

If I remembered to breathe, I'd see the joy of toddlerhood. A new and exciting experience. A little girl whose mind is so completely and totally blown, that she absolutely cannot contain herself. I'd put Tim on speakerphone, take Maile on my lap, sit on the back stoop and say, "We're counting the jets as they touch-and-go. Count with us! One ... two ... three ..."

If I remembered to breathe, I'd toss the eggshells in the sink, lean down, and give one of the most loving dogs on the planet a scratch behind the ear. "Good morning, Bear," I'd say.

If I remembered to breathe, I'd pull Tim's arm around me a little tighter. I'd kiss his hand and whisper, "I love you." I'd think to myself that after almost 6 years of marriage, my husband still wants to hold me as closely as he did in our first year of marriage. I'd tell myself that I'm the luckiest girl. And I'd kick off the comforter.

Don't forget.

Take a deep breath.

Breathe.

Prompt: A piece of advice you have for others. Anything at all.

Thank you to Christina, for introducing me to this project, and encouraging me to participate!

Just Keepin' it Real

I'm not trying to brag, but ... yes ... that is our child, still laying in bed, after 8 AM. 

Phew! This past week or so has been a doozy. I can hardly believe it's Friday already, but can't believe it's not Sunday yet. Yesterday, between buying Maile's big girl bed and making her last high chair conversion (into a regular ol' seat), I was in tears by the end of the day. Bittersweet tears. I felt guilty for getting impatient with Maile at IKEA, because she was about to fall asleep in my arms, but still insisted that I put more "foo 'nacks" (fruit snacks) in her pants pocket, which I was not about to do when she was just going to fall asleep! I was both incredibly proud and incredibly sad that our little girl isn't a baby anymore. That she is, in fact, a little girl. Taking initiative, and even trying her best to make her own decisions. By the time she fell asleep, it was all I could do to tear myself away from her side. But I did. And I looked at my little girl. My little girl who will soon be two years old. And I smiled. And I kissed her forehead. And I smelled her hair. And I said a silent prayer of thanks -- thanks that I'm her mama.

A Tuesday Look at Our Weekend

Now that I posted about Easter, I'm going to skip ahead to this past weekend, which was pretty fantastic itself. When the weather is in the 60s and 70s, I feel more in sync -- emotionally, physically, spiritually. I'm not one of those who's always craving the next season. No, I'd be happy with spring and summer weather year-round! Probably why I'm (only half jokingly) still trying to convince Tim that we should sell our house, and make a permanent move to Hawaii, so Maile can grow up in the land of her ancestors (our other choices being England or Scotland, which are cold). ;) It felt like Tim's days home went by particularly fast this time, so I suppose there's a slight downside to beautiful weather, but we sure did enjoy it.

Above two photos from Tim's Instagram account.

Friday, we finally became zoo members, and met up with some friends for a day of fun. Trying to get three toddlers to move through the zoo at a reasonable pace is like corralling monkeys, but it didn't really matter; we meandered through the zoo, laughing along with our silly littles. For a weekday, it was really crowded, but the Denver Zoo is one of the most spacious zoos I've ever visited, and the whole city seemed to have it worked out that even though all of us decided to go to the zoo that day, we would be polite and kind. I did see one mom there in 5-inch wedges and a little shift dress. She was pushing a pram, with a baby no more than 3 months old inside, and holding the hand of a toddler (who also looked adorable). I have to admit that my first thoughts were mean-spirited: Who does she think she is, dressing like that to come to the zoo? But she looked wonderful, and I checked my heart and realized that I -- in my chino shorts, sweatshirt, bare face, and ponytail -- was just a bit jealous. I do want to know what her secret is to walking a few hours on uneven pavement in those shoes, though!

Saturday, we went to the home of some friends, and were treated to some grilled Jamaican chicken and sweet plantains. It was such a nice time, and for whatever reason, Maile always eats a ton at everyone's house except ours! We hung out most of the day, trying a couple of new microbrews (the variety is endless here in Colorado), playing with the kids, and chatting about our big camping trip to Great Sand Dunes National Park coming up in June. We watched a bit of basketball, let Maile fall asleep on the drive home, and had a fairly great evening, too.

Sunday was kind of a tough day, but my new friend Helen invited me and Maile over for a chicken nacho dinner, and it ended up being just what Maile and I needed that evening; I can't believe how much we laughed in those few hours. We talked about the fact that, as mothers, it's hard to give ourselves a break when we raise our voices, or just want some time alone. But the thing is, we all do, from time to time ... and it's okay! It's such a great feeling, to bond with another mom in person.

I've been a little down. I've been comparing myself to others too much, wondering how some moms "do it all." (I've come to the conclusion that they either ignore their children, or don't sleep. Ha.) As such a particular perfectionist, it's easy for me to get overwhelmed, so the weekend was incredibly therapeutic. There is just so much more to life than perfection; if that's my goal, I'm going to be disappointed, for sure.

I hope your weekend was great! And if it wasn't, don't be afraid to share. The mess is beautiful, too.

xo

PS - If you entered our Baby Wisp giveaway, click here to see if you're one of two winners selected. Thanks to all who entered and shared!

A Saturday Afternoon, in Photographs

It was a blizzardy day, much too wintry and wet to go outside. After I cancelled our library story time spot, and told a new friend we'd meet her for a meal another day, we meandered through our morning. Eggs at 9. Pineapple at 10. The last, long-cold drops of coffee (for me) around 11.

According to Maile, even untamed bedhead requires an elephant bow.

Making a half-hearted attempt at productivity, I stripped the bed. For the next hour, a very ordinary, discounted down comforter became a magic carpet, transporting a small, malleable mind to lands of princesses and dwarfs, trees that talk, little girls who eat too many pink cupcakes ... and assuring her of the everlasting love of Jesus.

Whether right-side or wrong-side up, books are best read when one accessorizes with stickers.

Snowstorms make me want to bake, and I have the best assistant. When the outside seems so wild and unsafe, few things are more comforting than a from-scratch batch of chocolate chip cookies.

Our treats warmed the house, our two spaniels lingering, then laying near the oven ... absorbing every last one of its toasty waves of heat.

We took a delicious nap. The kind you're in no rush to wake from.

It doesn't get much better, for a Saturday snow day.

Happy Monday, friends.

We Heart Rumparooz

I never thought that I would be a cloth-diapering mama. Apart from the fun colors and prints, I thought it sounded like a whole lot of extra work, that it sounded disgusting, and that it was something only uber-crunchy moms did. But this lovely lady made it seem easy, and she kept telling me how much money she was saving by cloth diapering. If there's a hook, for me, it's saving money. But it wasn't until Maile was a few months old, and we'd had it with her sensitive little bum always looking so awful, that we decided to make the switch. And, still quite skeptically, I might add. 

I used Parenting magazine's Best Cloth Diapers guide to see what brand I thought might fit our baby, and our budget. Rumparooz seemed like the perfect fit, and they are. Nearly two years later, we still have the same 24 cloth diapers we originally invested in, and it's only now that we should probably start adding some more inserts to our stash. (They also recently added a few new colors and prints to their collection, that I wouldn't mind having ... I just need to save some pennies!) In fact, I'm such a Rumparooz fan, that I've flat-out refused to try any other brands. As the saying goes, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

I love all the fun patterns and bright colors. I love that we've never had a blowout. I love that Maile is comfortable in them. And I love that they've saved us so. much. money.

PS - When you're a mom, another load of laundry really isn't that big of a deal. And, let's face it: poop is poop. ;)

This is not a sponsored post. I simply wanted to share a bit about a product we love, and are asked about often. Second image is being used with permission.

Peek, Puh-ple, PJs

When we woke, it was still dark. Greyish light struggling to break through the blinds. We were warm, but I could feel the frigid outdoors, even under the heavy cloud of downy blankets ... sweaty little feet leaving a damp imprint on my t-shirt. We laid there for a few minutes. Not wanting to ruin the moment, I hardly dared breathe. 

Lazily, quietly, we made our way down the stairs. She thumped down on the carpet to color, still in a sleepy daze. The back door eeked as I heaved it open. Our spaniels' nails clacked across the hardwood, as they raced, barreling out into the frost. Maile's head snapped up: "Ohhh, Teh-Bear. Ohhh, Ches-che," she said with love, shaking the sleep from the dark hair falling over her eyes. 

Quickly, I checked the weather. Snow. Cold. "Today's going to be a pajama day!" I declared aloud, to no one in particular. Maile didn't so much as look at me. She was deep in artistic thought, creating a two-toned Minnie masterpiece. Mauvelous, royal purple, mauvelous, royal purple. Deftly, she alternated hues every few seconds. "Peek, puh-ple, peek, puh-ple."

It was almost perfect.

Giggles, laps around the ground floor of our home as we yelled "Ruuuun! Ruuuun!" Chocolate-chip eating, This Little Piggy wiggling, delicious nap-taking. Laugh-out-loud funny requests, koala care-taking, snow watching, game inventing, three-syllable word saying.

Time well spent.

Yesterdays are like therapy to me. Dreamy, fruitful, curing. I need to make them happen more often. To be excited to make these days for our only child. Days of imagination, days of dance. Pajama days.

What Maile's Teaching Me

Do you consider yourself to have a Type A personality? I always have. My family always has. My friends always have. It's never been a secret.

Taking on two too many responsibilities. Rushing around my college campus with my head down, hardly looking up to say hello to even a fellow sorority sister, close friends, because I overloaded on classes and worked multiple jobs. Crossing things off my to-do list. (I once lost my student planner on campus, and interrupted my favorite professor's class -- and the man did not. allow. interruptions. -- to retrieve it. It was, as I said very dramatically, I'm sure, "my life!")

In many ways, I thrived in these circumstances. Managing my time was a challenge. One that I actually enjoyed. The best days were the ones I was in my room and closed my computer before midnight, thinking to myself, "Yes. For today I'm done." The tasks on my to-do list neatly crossed through.

It wasn't easy, though, and I don't think I can honestly say that it was good for me. I accomplished a lot, but I'm sure I also missed out on a lot. 

What really brings this home for me is Maile. Her birth brought me down a level. At this age (of nearly 21 months), she takes everything in. Positive, negative, ugly, beautiful, she is a sponge. A fighter jet overhead isn't just doing yet another irritating touch-and-go exercise; it's an "eh-pane!" going "vrooooooo." (There are wiggles involved with this noise. Adorable wiggles.) Walking around the pretty town center nearby, she stops to dance and twirl to the music enveloping us. Every detail captures her attention. A small alcove where she can hear her own echo. Sparrows snatching bits of bagel from brunchers. The steps leading up to her favorite place, "Books? ::gasp:: Booooooks!" (That would be Barnes and Noble.) 

Maile reminds me to stand back. To stand still even, and appreciate every single thing this life has to offer. Maybe there's a pile of mail a foot high sitting on the counter at home. Maybe I was supposed to go three more places this afternoon. Maybe the sheets need washing because there's part of a chocolate doughnut smushed into the sheets where Maile sleeps, because she refused to let go of it for her nap. 

But I'm going to try not to rush, not to stress. I'll take one thing at a time. I'll say, "That can wait." and dance and spin and twirl like no one's watching, hop up the bookstore steps with Maile, and be excited about life. How blessed Tim and I are to have our girl in our lives to remind us to live.

A Monday Song

I thought I'd share a song this morning, full of many things I've been feeling, but haven't been able to express, myself.

I first heard this song last week, on K-LOVE, my favorite radio station. It had been an incredibly long day with Maile. Full of things I didn't want to do, full of things she didn't want to do. And she was such an angel that day. Patient. Beautiful. With a smile, a huge "HI!", and a wave for everyone she came in contact with. As the day wore on, and I felt exhaustion taking over, my heart's desire was to be more like her, my little girl who isn't even two ... my little old soul.

My prayer for you is that you make the most of your day, and take a little time out to do something special -- for yourself, or a loved one. 

For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. -- Romans 8:18

xo

Maile + The Tricycle

Maile loves the tricycle she got for Christmas. 

She points out her favorite princess, "'Rella," on the bell she picked out herself ... but can't quite ring on her own just yet.

She says, "I sit? Abby sit? K." Abby would be Miss Abigail Bunny ...

She makes truck noises, while she reaches her little feet for the pedals she can just touch. If that picture didn't make you laugh, we need to talk ...

Sitting on her bike has become one of her favorite things to do. Is it just me, or does she look like a semi-toothless 6 year-old in this picture? She's not even two! Make it stop.

And one of Mama's favorites, too, because she'll actually pose for pictures on her little red Radio Flyer! Even if she's wearing PJs, has lost all her color, and has a swollen face. I'll take it! At least they're clean PJs.

This week hasn't been the best. Our cat has been trying to eat the darn bow on that trike. And Maile won't let me take it off. So you see, my hands are tied. Haha. Anyway ...

It was really hard for me to stay on top of things. Maile and I seem to finally be kicking a nasty bout of flu to the curb, but I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed. Okay, a lot overwhelmed. 

A few things that helped me make it to Friday are ...

The smiles of that sweet baby girl. A combination of coughing from this terrible bug, and teething, gave her those adorable chipmunk cheeks (which she normally has, just on a slightly less extreme level) ... but she has the sweetest, most angelic spirit -- one that will not be dampened by anything!

Afternoon talks with Tim. When your husband is working 700 miles away, and you and your little kinda sorta feel like you might be dying, it's important to be able to talk things through. Say hello. I miss you. How convenient that you left a day before we got the plague. (Joking, joking ...) Nothing -- not even the flu -- lasts forever.

You! Although I haven't had the time or energy to put into much of anything this week, if you're new here, welcome! I'm so happy you're here. One of my favorite things about blogging is the amazing friends God has placed in my life. New and "old" blogging friends, I value each and every one of you more than you know.

I'm hoping to get outside and enjoy this beautiful Colorado sunshine this weekend, and make next week great. Hopefully you had a wonderful week, and if you didn't, I wish you the happiest of weekends!

xo

Embrace the Camera

Me and Maile, warming up in the car, on our day in Georgetown.

It was so, so bitterly cold, with wind blustering -- but Maile was a trooper! I'm not sure I can say the same for myself ... ;)

Embrace the Camera, won't you?

Embrace the Camera

Me and my girl. Tired. So tired. She was up most of Monday night with teething pain.

But Tuesday morning, I had Tim snap this quick shot before we ran out the door for our church's Titus 2 Moms Christmas ornament exchange. It's crucial that we, as mothers, get out from behind the camera once in awhile, and get in front of it with our littles. For our littles. 

In my daughter's eyes,

I can see the future,

A reflection of who I am and what will be.

And though she'll grow and someday leave,

Maybe raise a family,

When I'm gone I hope you'll see,

How happy she made me,

For I'll be there,

In my daughter's eyes.

Martina McBride

Embrace the Camera, won't you?