4 Major differences in Preparing for the 3rd Baby

My hubby and I are crazy fools and we really, really love being parents. I type this as both my children scream from their rooms during "nap time" so obviously it is not the ease and grace of parenting which cause us to delight in our roles as Mom and Dad. We decided to have a third baby for lots of reasons but the biggest one is that the pros of child rearing always, always, always outweigh any con that we might think of (or experience on a daily/hourly basis).

Now, we're not Catholic so having a baby every 1-2 years is not an indefinite thing to us, but we love seeing our family grow and take bringing a child into the world very seriously-- even though I love to say, "Who is allowing us to make decisions like this? It's insane!" when I am asked (often) if we will have more after this one. I can't believe this is a decision we are entrusted to make especially as we tend to err on the irresponsible side of life: i.e. remember that time we bought a puppy when our daughter was 6-weeks-old? Or how we have moved twice while I was in the 3rd trimester of pregnancy? And today for lunch I ate an entire box of assorted macaroons from Trader Joe's so I am obviously not the wisest among women.

When preparing for this little child to come into the world-- any day now says the doctor, likely I will have to wait another four weeks says Twisted Fate-- there are a bunch of differences between this pregnancy and my first. Any mom would surely agree!

For kicks and giggles (and to escape from aforementioned screaming children) here are a few to share that have been on my mind.

1. Weight gain:

1st Pregnancy-- When I was pregnant with Emmy Lou, I obsessed over how much weight I was gaining. I felt totally out of control watching my body grow-- although if I had stopped eating onion rings and milkshakes EVERY SINGLE DAY I might have felt more at ease. I weighed myself each morning and constantly told my friends how I was doing and asked people if I should worry about how big I was. When I got to the doctor's office for my check-up, I would take off my shoes and coat to make sure they weren't getting faulty information that could cause concern.

2nd pregnancy-- I kept losing weight in the 3rd trimester because Mike worked out of town 6 days a week and we were moving to a new town with a sweet toddler in tow. I felt super stressed and when it was all said and done, ended up gaining half as much as my 1st pregnancy.

3rd pregnancy-- Where is the scale? Did we leave it at the old house along with that 36 inch tube TV? The night before my doctor appointments, I sit on the couch eating nachos joking to Mike that I am gearing up for my "weigh-in" the next day. Weight gain rarely crosses my mind, and when I step on the scale the nurse usually has to remind me to put down one of the two children that are tagging along with me (is there anything more fun than bringing two toddlers to the OB office?)

I think I took this picture around 12 weeks

...and this is like, the next day. You grow really fast with your 3rd!
(jk, it's today, and the stain on my shirt is sour cream from the Taquitos I just ate) 

2. Nursery prep:

1st pregnancy-- we were so precious. I am pretty sure I threatened Mike's life to make sure he had that crib set-up by the time I was 20 weeks. As soon as we found out the baby's gender, I sighed with relief that I could now move forward with the carefully assembled Pinterest Board I had in place. There were many nights spent by the sewing machine (as I stood over my mom's shoulder, shouting fabric placement commands at her like a Martha Stewart Nazi) and searching online for the perfect coordinating curtains.

Here I am, in the lovely room where my child went to resist sleep

2nd pregnancy-- we used some things we found around the house to give Mack's room a country western/hunting/fishing/chevron theme. A few months after he was born, we moved again into a townhouse so the beloved child slept in a walk-in closet inside a pack n' play for 6 months.

3rd pregnancy-- here is the beautiful nursery which also duels as the room where we air out our hockey equipment (I bet you $1,000 my husband has more hobbies than yours!)

I hope I finish doing laundry before the baby comes so it has a place to sleep. There is no crib because I learned my lesson after the first two that it is so much easier to keep them next to you for as long as possible to prevent having to actually get out of bed in the middle of the night (the baby and I will sleep here for a couple weeks before joining Daddy in our room across the hall. Life is so much better if one of us is rested! And the man works 12 hour days, don't judge him :)

Again, we used things from around the house to decorate. If the baby is a boy, I'll turn those pottery farm animals around so you can't see the porcelain lace. Since this ain't my first rodeo, I am tuned into the reality that this room is basically a 12 x 12 space for our new off-spring to cry, poop, and nurse around the clock. Keeping it real!

The only new purchase was the dresser-- when I told my husband we needed one he said, "Can't you just use a duffle bag or something? Baby clothes are really tiny and don't take up a lot of room." I stared at him for a long time thinking to myself, "This man seriously needs to do more laundry."

3. Baby gear:

1st pregnancy-- buy it all! Research every item! E-mail all my friends who are moms-- then make them come with me to the store! Obsess over registry!

2nd pregnancy-- you've learned your lesson that the baby will probably hate that $300 swing. Sell it on Craigslist and use the money to stock up on diapers and onesies, the only two things you really need!

3rd pregnancy-- "Who is bringing me food and do I have enough yoga pants to make it through the Winter?" Seriously, all I care about is having a stocked freezer and comfy clothes. I have figured out that these children are not going to be taking care of me anytime soon so it's every man for himself around here. Anything else we are missing, I will send Mike to get at Walmart on our way home from the hospital.

4. Delivery:

1st pregnancy-- I literally sobbed on the floor when I realized I would have to get the baby out of my body. I begged God to intervene. I read several books, interviewed Midwives via skype, and had a LEGIT birth plan-- the core of it being that my mother was to bring me a turkey sandwich because I read that the doctors don't let you eat during delivery (*which did not matter because a. Emmy Lou came too fast and my mom didn't make it in time b. I threw up with Every.Single.Contraction). One of my biggest fears was that I would forget to tell the delivering doctor I did not want an episiotomy, or that during labor I would be unable to pronounce the word "episiotomy."

2nd pregnancy-- Please let the baby come out quickly and let my husband make it on time to see him born (here is Mack's birth story).

3rd pregnancy-- I can't wait to stay in the hospital and have a break from my adorable other children. I just hope I deliver while there is a Jimmy John's open so I can have a sandwich right away when I'm done (<-- a serious common theme in this post/my life).

Some quick similarities:

1. I still google EVERYTHING, all day long.

2. Every night when Mike gets home from work, I give him the full recap of what my body has been doing that day-- he loves it! "Let's have more children soon." he says!

3. I worry, worry, worry about the delivery, and not just the food aspect. I am praying that:

Mike makes it on time (he is about 1 hour and 40 minutes from the hospital) 

That I get to the hospital quickly and safely (I am also 40 minutes away, because we're dramatic like that) 

The baby is healthy, healthy, healthy! Sicko Internet is always telling me sad stories and I read them and cry-- and then Facebook targeted advertising shows me more sad stories. Vicious cycle! As always, I will be amazed if God chooses to give us the gift of another sweet baby. 

In some ways, I am even more excited to have this baby because we don't know the gender, and I know how wonderful it is to have an infant and raise a child!

**PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: if you are out of your mind like myself, and are in discussion about going from 2 children to 3, I don't know anything about that but I can tell you to take the pregnancy part seriously (probably a big DUH to most people). But I genuinely thought pregnancy was something you progressively got "better" at. This is a FALSITY. It gets much harder no matter how you breezed through the first two pregnancies, get ready because your third might be a bit of a...doozy. Nobody warned me, I started asking around about 12 weeks in and all the 3+ mamas said, "AMEN."

Suuuuch a long post, the littles finally fell asleep and I am avoiding "some" dishes in the kitchen.

Learning to Love my Actual Life- My Messy Beautiful

I did not sign up for this.

It was more than just a thought that ran through my head all day. It was like a vow to myself. See your life? You didn't choose it. It happened to you. Someone else did this to you.

I did not sign up for this.                            

The first time that thought ran through my head, it was 9 o’clock on a Monday night. My first day home alone with my two children. When we had our daughter, our life did change dramatically but one thing didn't, I kept going to work each day. When Mack was born and Lou was fourteen-months-old, I decided to stay home. At this time, my husband started the bridge job he would work on for a year. He left the house by 5 am and came home at 8 pm, 6 days a week. He ate dinner, sat in his chair for 15 minutes, showered and went to bed.

So there I was on that first Monday evening as a stay-at-home mom, standing over the kitchen sink. It was full of dishes (we had no dishwasher at the time, the inhumanity!) Pots covered the stove, toys littered the floor, food stuck to the linoleum I stood on. The lighting in that old kitchen gave the room a dingy yellow glow. Suddenly everything hit me like nothing had ever hit me before, “This. Is. My. Life.” And as that water filled the sink, I leaned over it and began to sob. I felt the weight of caring for these little babies, meeting their infinite needs, the weight of cooking and cleaning for a man who did not have the capacity at this time in his life to help me- physically or emotionally, the weight of our recent move and all the stress that had brought on me. The loneliness of it all washed over me and I cried harder, because this was my life and I suddenly realized I actually had to live it.  

This realization sunk in deeper each morning I woke up during that milk soaked, sleep deprived summer. As C.S. Lewis says, the needs of the morning “rushed at me like wild animals,” and there wasn't enough coffee in my house for me to have the capacity to meet them. Oh yes, how I loved my babies and my days were also full of sweet, sweet moments. But I couldn't grasp the other side of motherhood. It was a whole world that nobody told me about. I felt so tricked by it. I received these beautiful children, all I wanted to do was hold them and snuggle. I am a lover of all the things and could do this part, and do it well. But the other side… like feeding them and the basic daily maintenance of a home (even if for sanitation purposes only) it overwhelmed me.

You wacko's! Lose the googly eyes and take a parenting class!

When Mike and I were first married, I had gone two WHOLE months without doing a load of laundry (yes, I have a large underwear collection). We laughed at our messy house- aren't we so silly? Let’s leave our meal on the table and clean it all up tomorrow! And if we didn't feel like making dinner at all, we went out to eat.

But we could not live this way once we had kids and I could not wrap my mind around the fact that my life was FULL TO THE BRIM of things that needed to be done that I was not good at. This wasn't on the curriculum in grad school, none of my fun and relational job training experiences taught me how to raise a baby, even having had an awesome mom myself did not prepare me to be one.

I began to get bitter at my husband. He brought me here, impregnated me and then left me. I clearly told him when we got married that I wanted to live near the ocean, but here I was in rural Iowa. I felt like I was living his life, his dreams, and could not believe how quickly mine felt like they weren't an option anymore. I spent our 15 minutes together each night making sure he knew how exhausted I was. But exhausted himself, he fell asleep listening to me and snored for dramatic effect.

After weeks of this, things got worse not better. Mack started waking up from his newborn haze and crying more, Lou introduced us to her capacity of toddler-crazy and began throwing tantrums, Mike’s hours increased as the days grew longer, and I could no longer attribute my lack of friends to the fact we had “just moved” because it had been several months. I felt trapped in our little old house and often put the babies in the car, turned on Baby Einstein, and drove around eating onion rings and singing along to "Old McDonald," hoping someone would flag my car down and ask my greasy self to be their friend.

A picture from the "porch of affliction," where I sat and had my quiet times that summer

I finally decided something HAD to give. I could not change my children (yet… I would try later on), my husband was not my enemy, ultimately God brought me here, to such a season of life as this, and I had to learn to love it or I would surely die of bitterness and a seriously unhealthy dose of self-pity. 

So then began my search to answer the questions that swirled around my head, how do you learn to love your life, when it is not the one you would have ever chosen for yourself?

How do you function as a human being, when you feel you are not living according to your design? I thrive in relationship, spending hours outside, having space in my life for creativity and spontaneity, and being able to read and learn. But the people I spent my day with could not talk, cried when we spent hours outside because they were all like “hey mom, we need naps!” My life zapped my creativity and all I mustered up each day was a fuzzy picture uploaded to Instagram. The only learning I did was what Curious George taught me that morning—so that’s how you make maple syrup? Thanks George, you’re a good little monkey.

Y’all, we are so lied to as children! What do you want to do when you grow up? Who do you want to be? How do you want to live? What amazing thing will you become? Life, we are told, is about doing what you excel at and making sure you are surrounded by what makes you happiest. When you expect your life to always be filled with what you love and are good at, it is no wonder that when we wake up and we are not the President, or a NBA star, or Barbie, our image of what our life could look like and what it actually is do not line up, and this makes us depressed.

Thankfully, sigh, oh THANKFULLY, God was not surprised by my life, nor by my inability to live it well. After a few loooong months, I turned to Him and said, “Okay, you did this to me. Where do I go from here?”

I began to beg God to teach me to love my life.

And He did. Oh how He did…

There are so many good things that followed asking that question. And not in a Pollyanna-my-life-is-so-great-now type things. Real things, heart re-molding things. The next 6 months of that hard, hard year, I can look back on and say were the best of my life. For reals! We didn't move to the Carolina's, I didn't hire a nanny, and my husband didn't suddenly become Superman. But, I could write a whole other post on what happened, how God showed up, how He taught me to love my life, to love being a stay at home mom, and another time, I will.

But now I am imploring you, if you do not love your life and if you are alone and struggling, start by asking Him, the Author and Creator of you and all that is good, for a little help.

A lot of people told me these years with little babies would be hard, but they did not tell me how to cope. I wanted to shake those little old ladies in the grocery store who stopped to tell me, "Oh my, don't you have your hands full" in a semi-violent way and ask them how they did it (because did they even have birth control back then?!) How to find myself again under the piles of diapers and dirty onesies. And hearing people say that "it will be gone before I know it" just isn't enough for me. I want to learn to love it NOW. I do not want when my children are napping to be the best part of my day because that is like 5 minutes and then somebody starts crying. I will not suddenly wake up and have all the hard things gone (unless we hire a maid, please husband, please!) but this is my life and I will live in it and I will thrive. If only because I choose to but as I have learned (because it has been beaten into my brain), that choice is everything.

So now, today, if you are struggling in your life and with how it’s playing out, ask God to begin to teach you to love it... or maybe at first tolerating it would do. And if you are a mama, remember that for most of us, Motherhood (capital M to honor the sanctity) is learned, the lessons are long and received with tears and possibly thanksgiving if you keep your heart soft enough. And practically, we need mother schools not elementary schools because I’m pretty sure I use those math and science skills, well never, but please someone demonstrate for me an equation to get my daughter to eat green vegetables.  

I did not sign up for this.

It has been EXACTLY one year since that little song became the anthem of my life. It is still true. I look around and remember my younger self, how she had never considered being a stay-at-home mom. My rush to get dinner on the table before my husband walks through the door would ROCK her feminist values. My new-found ability to carry a toddler potty full of pee in one hand and an infant in the other while keeping said infant from splashing in the pee would not amaze her. Judging my house as clean solely on the premise that there is no poop or cheerios on the floor might freak her out a little. And she would not find my simple daily goals of getting everyone fed and brushing my teeth at least once to be very ambitious.

But I am learning to embrace all the wild, unexpected, and gross parts of my life,---- and to give this Mothering role a big old hug because this is the one life I get to live, and I will love it well. 

And disclaimer: the best time of my day is still when my kids are napping. Sorry, there just ain't no getting around that one. 

This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project — To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE! And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE
But seriously, read her book. It'll change your life. Love, Ally

Month THREE in Summary

In like a lion and out like a lamb, March has been my favorite month of 2014. The long awaited mental shut-down occurred and I am thankful to not be filling my precious brain space with thoughts about new clothes, furniture, Spring accessories, and make-up. Part of how this happened is avoiding Pinterest! It will be terribly sad when I walk around wearing colored pants, wedges, and striped shirts, things that markedly became fashionable LAST year but I hope my friends don't drop me. Lord knows my husband doesn't stay on trend so no judgement there.

Avoiding the mall, magazines, and catalogs makes not spending much easier. It is common sense to the rest of the world. I am just now realizing if I don't want to shop, my visual intake of "stuff" needs to decrease.

Some other great things about March...

We threw a crazy first birthday party for our beloved Mack. We only spent $50 on decorations and food, and it was a blast! My friend Abby gave me the leftover decorations from her son's 1st birthday last month and since the themes were "Lots of Color" "Chalkboard Stuff" and "Deer" I added to what she gave me using what I had on hand.

My wonderful friend Beth made Mack the banner and I can't wait to hang it up in his "room" (actually a closet, pictures coming soon).

My mama sewed the deer pillows for Mack's nursery, aren't they great?!

The ages of the party guests ranged from three-days-old to four-years-old, the triplets came which brought our count of two-year-olds up to ten, but it was a fun play date and I enjoy when our home is busting at its seams with people we love.

Lou spent the entire party stealing juice boxes and eating frosting off of all the cupcakes

The kids ate mini PB & J sandwiches (crustless of course), fresh fruit, and apple juice.












 The mamas ate chicken salad and in retrospect, I should definitely have had wine on hand as well.

Wishing I had gotten a better pic of all the bambino's!

Mack loved his cupcake and ate it like a boss, he held it in his hand while methodically opening and closing his mouth with Lou screaming in his ear, "Do you like it Mackie? Do you love your birthday cake?"

Photo by Abby Jane Galleries

After everyone left, I found some banana in Lou's dollhouse, half a cupcake under the coffee table, and a can of soda stuffed into a pillow case.

Among other March Madnesses, I set a personal record in gift-card-wait-time, I received a gift card to Sephora from my mom for Christmas. I typically treat a gift-card like a coupon, just using it to take the 'edge off' the bill total! This trip I chose the cheapest items: Sephora's house brand of liquid eye-liner and a nude lipstick to make sure I stayed under the set amount. I'd rather have bought this and this because they are "better" products (they last longer) but I will survive, I think, if my eyeliner doesn't stay on during all my big outings to the park.

Hubby went over the credit card bill last night and we were both I was shocked to see we didn't save money this month-- Dang it! He rolled his eyes and sighed, but was not surprised. If there is a lesson we have learned in our marriage, it is to "always have low expectations." I compensated for not spending on myself by actually remembering to send gifts to five different wedding and baby showers. When he questioned these decisions, I gave a detailed, unwanted explanation of how each well-chosen gift was a symbol of my love.

This means we are 0-3 for monthly savings during the spending fast. In January, I over-spent on groceries and in February, we spent our extra moola on a vacation for the two of us.

People keep asking me if it's hard and to be honest, I do miss buying things. It is fun to get something new. Sometimes I miss the shopping bags, rearranging my shoes to make room for a new pair, fresh book pages, the strapping young Fed-Ex man. But I miss it like Christmas. I love Christmas, I adore the music, the cookies, decorating, all the nostalgia that comes that time of year. But do I spend every day in March saying, "Why isn't it Christmas yet? When will it come, how many more days?" No, and I'm guessing you don't either. I enjoy it when it's here, but without it, life goes on. Waiting for the spending fast to end is like waiting for Christmas to come, it will be here eventually but in the mean time there is a lot of other important stuff to do.

I have friends who fasted for 6 months and another for 90 days (refraining from shopping, so hot right now!) I'd find that harder because time is just short enough where you can see the light at the end of the no-shopping-tunnel so you can make your list and revise it and be ready to go when the fast expires. A year seems like forrreevvverrrr so there is not much point in daydreaming because December 31st is eons from now.

So I will wait until then... but am also hoping my husband gets it together and starts buying me STUFF instead of thoughtful trinkets that die or get eaten for upcoming holidays (so far I got flowers for Valentine's Day and chocolate covered strawberries for our anniversary when was really wanting floral print clothing and cheveron covered Toms!) I almost miss the days when he forgot to get me gifts so I would go shopping and buy them on his behalf. Almost.

Also, I am continuing my Lent challenge of making space and waking up earlier. I loooove mornings now. I wake up between 5:30 and 6 (yes, AM!) and spend time listening to music, reading, journaling, and chugging coffee before the babies wake up. Some days I'm wearing my jeans and sneeks and have brushed my teeth as well. The standard time for having those things done pre-March was noon! Hallelujah!

The Story of Mack

Gather more than one mother together, and something will remind someone of their child’s birth story.

“Oh, you’re eating a sandwich? Let me tell you about how sandwiches remind me of when I was in labor with Penelope and I wanted to eat a sandwich. ” “You have a green shirt on today and it’s so funny that you’re wearing that because I was wearing green when my water broke with Micah…” 

Every birth story is amazing and miraculous and somewhat horrifying, and my story of Mack is all those things but, it is also slightly ridiculous.

We decided to move in February, on a whim, to follow Hubby to his next job. So we merrily packed our organized boxes and smiled and held hands and sang hymns and it was the best of times. False. But we got where we needed to be in order  to be closer to the next bridge project so that he would come home at night, so moving seemed like a major win.

Until, there was some kind of natural catastrophe that prevented said bridge from being started, so he worked on a different project that was even further from our new home (3 hours).

So there I was, 36 weeks pregnant and alone in a new city, terrified that I would go into labor and have to bring my one-year-old with me to the hospital because I had no friends to watch her, my family lived 5 hours away, and Hubby only came home on weekends. I explained this to my newest and bestest friend in town, the OB nurse, and asked her if I could have her number so I could call her in the middle of the night if I needed to. True story.

There was ONE week that worked in our timeline for Mack to be born, the week my mom and sister, both teachers, had Spring Break and were visiting me. Thursday morning arrived, they were leaving Friday, and Hubby called from the other side of the state to ‘encourage things along:’

“Hey, it’d be really great if the baby came today because then I could take the weekend off and be around.”

Me: “What? Why? I'm not due for two weeks and the doctor said I don’t look ready to go anytime soon. And can’t you get a few days at home to help after he comes?” (The first time we were having a critical conversation, last minute of course, story of our marriage)

Him: “No, didn’t I tell you- I can’t take more than one day off because of how delayed this project is?”

I hung up on him.

I had no signs of labor at this point which was opposite from Lou where I walked around for weeks thinking she was about to just fall out of ‘there,’ huffing and puffing and yelling and saying, “This is IT, we should go the hospital!” And we went three times, no baby. I cried wolf so much that by the time we really DID need to go to the hospital, Mike didn’t believe me and I almost gave birth in our bedroom.

So my mom and sister took Lou to the park that March morning, I hung up on Hubs, and then I prayed, “So help me Jesus, I know this is not always how things work, but please bring this baby today.” I texted my prayer posse and asked them to pray too. And I KID YOU NOT, I had my first contraction.

But I was not sure it was actually a contraction so when my mom came back, I said, “Hey, let’s take a walk.” She gave me a suspicious look, I did not want to tell her I was in labor because I knew she would ask me lots of questions and jinx it. So we walked to the park. The one that was 10 blocks away. And when we got there, I said, “I think I’m just going to sit down for a minute.” Then on the way home, I had this crazy stomach "cramp" every five minutes, and I would have to stop and bend over and my mom would look at me all crazy-eyed.

Next I called my two baby mama’s who know lots more about labor then I ever will. The one we affectionately call the Baby Whisperer calmly said, “Yeahhhh, I had that too with my three. You will probably have it on and off for a few days.” Okay, bummer, but that made sense. Then I called my other (more erratic and dramatic friend, the one who had convinced me to go to the hospital 2 out of the 3 false alarms for Lou) and she said, “OH MY GOD. You’re having a stomach pain that makes you unable to walk everyone 5 minutes? YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE THAT BABY ON THE TOILET. GET TO THE HOSPITAL NOW.” And because I didn't want her to be mad at me, I believed her and called my husband and told him to start driving. The second miracle of the day.

I then decided to tell my mom that I “might be in labor.” I crawled around the bedroom floor, packing duffle bags for Hubby (and OF ALL THE THINGS, I forgot his socks, Heaven forbid, I heard about it the entire weekend).

I drove myself to the hospital, and it was a really nice Spring day. 60 degrees, sun shining, the perfect weather to take a little nap in the parking lot. That annoying stomach pain would wake me up, and then I would doze right back to sleep. Finally, I realized I was getting hungry and I had better check on this whole labor thing before I went to Jimmy John’s. I was about to get out of the car, but looked in the rear-view mirror. Sheesh! I looked rough! So I spent another 15 minutes sitting there, putting on my make-up because a woman’s gotta look presentable in case she has a baby.

I walked into the hospital and denied the wheelchair they offered me (because I was CLEARLY in labor and everyone else knew it but me) and walked myself to the OB department (ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HOSPITAL) stopping for a “breather” every now and then.

I arrived (30 minutes later) they checked me out, rushed the doctor in, and told me that baby was going to be there WITHIN AN HOUR. “Wait, what?!” So I called Baby Daddy and told him to drive realllly fast. And he did, and there are other details which would stress my current pregnant friends out but everything went “fine” (as fine as natural, unexpected childbirth can go) and as chill as ever, our precious baby came into the world.

 Michael Thomas, we call him Mack.

To this day, he is still chill as a cucumber (thank the Lord Jesus who brought Him to us because his sister is a traveling circus in a two-year-old’s body). Although, we will hold it against him that he woke up every 2 hours through the night until he was 10 months old...

Content, loving, snuggly, adorable Mack.

People warned me about having two babies close together-- after I was already pregnant—but the best thing in my life is watching these two toddle around all day.

Happy Birthday Mack!  

How do you get through hard days?

So here is my question, for anyone who might find it in their heart of hearts to answer, how do you handle your day when it falls apart around you? When the children cry too much, when the boss criticizes, when the wardrobe majorly malfunctions, when the favorite restaurant is closed (happened to us a few weeks ago- we FREAKED out), when you are stressed and anxious and maxed out and you can’t handle it if something else goes wrong… and then, something else goes wrong? What do you do? What do you turn to?

I am looking for a relatively practical response.

Because for me, the answer used to be, if I have ___, I’ll feel better, this day will be better.

My answer is often food. If one of my children won’t nap and is sobbing their head off in the crib, I am standing in front of the pantry shoving chocolate chips in my mouth. Sometimes the answer is shopping. If I am frustrated with everything, a moment of peace looks like sitting on the computer, looking at pretty things, putting them in my shopping cart and buying them.

I do not feel guilty at all for buying myself a latte yesterday, even though I purposefully included no coffee drinks in my year-long spending fast. I do not feel guilty because to me, doing this spending fast is not accomplishing a goal nor passing a test. I am not looking for a pat on the back from anyone and that is certainly not why I am keeping a blog.

This spending fast is not about getting a trophy at the end nor is it about deprivation. It is just a closer look at myself, my tendencies, my own life.

Day in and day out, this fast is seriously no big deal. If I have the urge to shop, I just do something else and it goes away, who knew?! If I am out and want to get a milkshake, I go home and make one instead it's wild! Sure, there are moments, sometimes hours where I am thinking about buying stuff and I struggle, then I move on.

I am very curious, is this how other people work? Do we all use things around us to make ourselves feel better? Or is that just me?

The latte yesterday was GREAT. I sat there, alone, able to journal through my thoughts, read, listen to my i-pod, I left that coffee shop a happy and refreshed woman.

Then I walked through my door. Nobody took their needed naps. My husband had bad news about work and the location of his next bridge project. The plan for dinner wouldn’t work because it didn’t thaw in time. I looked around, took it all in, saw the laundry scattered throughout the room, smelled a diaper needing a change, felt the sweet little hands tugging at my coat, noticed the baby snot that was all over both my shoulders and had been there the whole time I merrily chatted everyone up at the coffee shop, and I felt like crying.

So then what, do I leave again? Request another two hours of solitude to re-energize me to face this new set of problems? How do you engage with your day when it is hard?

This is my question for the year, how will I find contentment, apart from “retail therapy” or whatever pick-me up's I am used to choosing? 

(I fully endorse buying new clothes and latte's, Nordstroms and Starbucks FOREVER and I will remain faithful to them no matter what, Amen).

Hello, I am cheating right now

Hi there, just wanted to show a little picture of me breaking my spending fast and I am blissful about it because for the first time in 3 months I am well-caffeinated!

Today it is 28 degrees in Iowa, snowing, my son is teething, I am potty training my daughter, and when my husband got home, from doing Heaven knows what, I was hiding under the high-chair eating puppy chow. I grabbed my bag, said, "See ya sucka!" and headed to the coffee shop. If somewhere with wine was open, I would be there right now.

This is the Case of the Monday's selfie I took this morning and sent to my ever-sympathetic mother.

Anyways, since all-y'all are my accountability, I just wanted to keep up with my whole transparency thing.

I explained (to a very patient barista) the spending fast and how I was considering breaking it via the purchase of a hot beverage and did she think it counted as cheating if my husband reimburses me later then it'd be like he bought it for me and oh, did they make latte's with almond milk? Yes? I'll take a double, add caramel, add whip, please!

Thanks for all your support. I am weak. Who knows what wild acts of treason I will commit tomorrow if my children keep crying and the weather keeps being oh-so-Iowa in the Springtime!

Elaborate Birthday Parties & the Spending Fast

Good morning! It has been hard to write this week as I have been managing a new business called "Taking Care of my Friends' Kids." Since it is Spring Break, several of the day-care providers in town are closed. One gal is expecting a baby and needed to get her feet professionally rubbed on a daily basis so I took care of her one-year-old. My awesome farm-wife-friend had to load out hogs with her husband (this is a real thing, we're in rural Iowa folks!) They know I stay home and love a little chaos, so most of my waking hours this week I had between 5 and 7 toddlers, ages 3 and under. That took care of my baby fix as well as my "wouldn't it be so fun to have a big family" fix.

We had "circle time" where we read books and sang songs together. This meant Lou held the book and screamed "My book, my caterpillar, Louie no more share!" while all the other children quickly crawled away. Pictures of children are often a farse, nothing is as precious as it seems!

I've had several different thoughts swirling around and wrote one silly long post but decided instead to break each thought into its own post. So, hurray! There will be a post every day through the next week.

It is so funny to me that by not spending any money on myself (it has been 80 days!) I find ways to channel that spending love into other nonsense. It is like the gopher game at the arcade where you smack one down and another pops up. For example, Mack's first birthday is coming up and I have had to  hold myself back in every way possible. At one point, my Amazon shopping cart had over $200 worth of chevron paper products, giant number '1' shaped balloons, crepe paper, cake toppers, cookie cutters, and 15 Bambi golden books as party favors (the intended theme was, "Our little deer is turning one!")

Source

Kids' birthday parties are hard for me. You want your child to feel so loved and adored and special on their birthday. So you think of some ideas that fit with your child's personality, start brainstorming, and then turn to Pinterest to make all your creativity a reality. And before you know it, your little dreams of children running around your balloon filled house eating cupcakes has turned into a made from scratch 8 layer cake and a decorated bathroom to "keep the theme consistent" even though most of your guests are still in diapers. Not that I am speaking from personal experience... So over the past two years, I have found that birthday throwing is not my forte.

The Holy Grail of birthday party throwing, the elusive "Rainbow Cake"

Lou's 1st Birthday, where I cooked 3 entree's, a dozen sides, 4 desserts, and made my husband crazy

I LOVE the thought and heart behind themed birthday parties- but alas, I am an idea person and making these things a reality causes intense stress on my life. The planning stage is incredibly fun, the execution is terrible and I take my whole family down with me. For me, throwing a birthday party (granted, my kids are young, young, young!) becomes more about me impressing others than about me blessing my child with a special day. I am just messed up like that.

So birthday parties are now on my list of things I do not do.

Please people, especially us perfectionist ladies, make yourself a list of things you do not do. I keep mine in my phone, just in case I find myself at Home Depot with a cart full of plants and potting soil and a book called Growing Hydragenas God's Way.

Here is my list: (I've included a few things I do like, for confidence building purposes)

I like to cook.

I do not like to clean.

I do not garden.

I do not host dinner parties.

I start furniture projects and sometimes, I complete them.

I do not throw elaborate, themed birthday parties for my husband or children.

I listen to mix cd's in my car.

I do not train animals.

I do not dress my children in ornate, matching outfits for holidays.

I do not scrapbook nor keep any record of my children's lives other than my memory and what is in my i-phone.

Proof of the list:

This is a work in progress. I am months away from turning thirty and am in a season of learning about who I am and where I am heading in life... after spending three decades knowing NEITHER of these things. I have found that it is very important for me to recognize what I love, what makes me thrive as a person and to learn that, I must also acknowledge what makes me want to curl up into a little ball and hide under a blanket. Having a list is a quick reference when I get carried away and try to be good at everything.

100% this concept comes from the wonderful book Bittersweet by Shauna Niequest. Shauna is a truth teller and a gracious one at that, the greatest combination there ever was. Please read this and feel a little more at rest with who you are... and who you are not.

"It’s brutal, making the list of Things I Don’t Do, especially for someone like me, who refuses most of the time to acknowledge that there is, in fact, a limit to her personal ability to get things done. But I’ve discovered that the list sets me free. I have it written in black and white, sitting on my desk, and when I’m tempted to go rogue and bake muffins because all the other moms do, I come back to both lists, and I remind myself about the important things: that time is finite, as is energy. And that one day I’ll stand before God and account for what I did with my life. There is work that is only mine to do: a child that is ours to raise, stories that are mine to tell, friends that are mine to walk with. The grandest seduction of all is the myth that DOING EVERYTHING BETTER gets us where we want to be. It gets us somewhere, certainly, but not anywhere worth being."

Thank you Shauna, and may I add: it is also important when making a list to put a period at the end of each item and give a little head nod when you read it aloud. That makes each thing official and permanent. When I read my list, it makes me relax and sigh and remember, oh yes, I am just Ally and I do not have to do it all.

In learning what I do not do, it is important for me to recognize that I am an extremely excitable person. People get me worked up and talked into just about anything. My husband knows this about me and often takes advantage of it. Like the time he convinced to get a six-week-old coonhound puppy (the kind that 'bay' which is a loud, howling sound. Our neighbor from 5 houses down brought us a bark collar "just in case we needed it").

We hope Gus is doing well since he began his new life on the farm we sent him to

This all was when our daughter was also six-weeks-old... and I DIDN'T EVEN WANT A DOG. I vowed never to be talked into doing things like that again when I was 35 weeks pregnant, carrying a one-year-old on my hip, locked out of my house wearing my bath robe, and chasing that 80 lb "puppy" around our neighborhood, shouting expletives and throwing dog food from my pockets at 7 am. Bless it. It was then that I added "I do not train animals" to my list.

Anyways, it is possible to have a simple, inexpensive birthday party, I've heard, and we will be trying this experiment next weekend. I have not yet given my friends their invitations (also known as a text message with the place and time) so there is a chance no one will even be able to come.

I am not judging people who throw beautiful birthday parties for their children because there are those out there who are gifted in this area, it is on their "can do" list. It's true, I have met them. My friend Abby started planning her son's first birthday party when she was pregnant and had the house decorated for over two weeks before it started. There were water bottles with his name on them, it was amazing. This is one her things, it gives her life, makes her more of who she is. We had such a sweet time celebrating her son turning one. I love and appreciate that about her, and try very hard not to feel bad about myself for being different.

Part of why I wish I loved party-planning is that I want to make the people who come into my home feel loved, but I have yet to do this because usually by the time they arrive I am angry at them being there because I've been fighting with my husband over who has done the most to get the house suitable and the food prepared and suddenly nothing is fun anymore and nobody feels welcome. But I really want to keep trying in this area and hope that one day I can add to my list: "I make people feel welcome in my home" and also the goal of my marriage which is "My husband and I do not fight before company comes."

It is fun to plan parties and distracting from all the boring hum-drum of daily life and is also a reason to vacuum my carpets. But it is not a reason to spend $200 on chevron paper plates.

I adore Mack and want his birthday to be special. He is the best surprise I've ever received. I love a good celebration and what is better than planning a little party for this sweet face?

Katie Evans Photography

I cannot wait to share with you how it turns out.

Making Space: Part 1

I have spent most of my life running behind, catching up, making excuses. Having kids has increased these things exponentially. 

Here are a few examples of my hurried, breathless lifestyle (all things I have thought were completely normal until I got married and someone pointed out to me that I am ridiculous). 

After months of frantic mornings, I finally started dressing my children in their clothes for the next day the night before. They eat their breakfasts in their little onesies, spilling eggs and blackberries, sausage pieces clinging to fleece. I stand them up in their highchairs, holding them with one hand and unzipping their pajama’s with the other and- voila! Underneath the onesie is their clothes for the day, stretchy pants and long sleeve shirts adding an extra layer in the night and an extra 5 minutes for mama in the morning.

We love blackberries! 

Waaaiiiit a second, what is underneath here?

Ta-da! 

Thanks to having dry, wavy hair, I only wash it once a week. I use the curling iron and lots of hairspray so on the first day I am looking a fool, running errands and attending Bible study sporting a 'do' like a contestant in a beauty pageant (one who doesn't wear enough make-up and struts around in yoga pants). By day three, I'm in my prime with my hair relaxed into a beachy wave, by day five I am rocking a bun with some dry shampoo, and by day seven I have lost all control and am all side-pony-crazy-eyed, feeling like I cannot do another single thing until I wash it.

I have never NOT put my make up on in the car while I’m on the way to go somewhere, I just keep it in there. I can’t remember the last time I left the house in the morning without bringing my breakfast with me. A muffin wrapped in a paper towel, a cookie in each pocket, some bacon in my bag- I would like to say I’m kidding or exaggerating but maybe one day I will write a post on cleaning out my purse and my coat pockets. I swear to you, I made a new friend at church one day, and as I was talking to her I reached into my pocket for something and my hand grazed some old carrots. She never would have known but it startled me and I yelled. I tried to play it off like it was Lou’s fault but things like that happen more than they should. I could tell you more, but you would discount me as a total wacko so I will let out a little information at a time and please do not ever ask to see the inside of my car without giving me 24 hour notice.  

Yes, I know I am a mama of wee ones and these days are especially crazy but I have always been this way. It is a miracle that I have friends, and even more shocking that Hubby, the keeper of all time and the lover of all normalcy, married me. People thought we were waiting to live together until we got married for spiritual reasons, but in actuality, it was because I didn't want him to know! He would have left! (He told me so later). 

When I started the spending fast, making time, making room, making space for what matters most is one of the things in my life I really wanted to address. Listen, we all have things about ourselves that bother us and at a certain point, we stop what we're doing and say, "Okay, time to deal." 

I wanted to learn to not put the things I love the most into the margins while the pages of my days are filled with nonsense. Fasting from shopping plays into this aspect of my life because sometimes when life slows down enough to catch my breath, that is where I turn, Let me fill these 15 minutes I have with running into a store to buy something, to pull up the Amazon app on the phone, to circle items of clothing in a catalog. 

Then I have all the things, and they are not the things I want, the things that will bring me peace or satisfy the longings of my soul so I look for more things. Then you have a house, a basement, an attic full of stuff and your life and your heart are cluttered... and your husband makes you have a garage sale... and you get in the biggest fight of your marriage after you refuse to throw out all the things at the garage sale that didn't sell and that you tried to bring back into the house. Bless our neighbors, we moved shortly after this. 

My favorite, favorite, favorite writer of all the writers and all the time is C.S. Lewis. Why do I love him so? Like every one, he is far more brilliant than I, his writing speaks, shouts really. He is not intimidating like some authors, but instead his words sink in deep, absorbed like they're running through my blood and passing through my heart and changing me inside out. This is one of my favorite passages from him:

“This is why the real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting in that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind. We can only do it for moments at first. But from those moments the new sort of life will be spreading through our system; because now we are letting Him work the right part of us.”

Yes, C.S. Lewis- the mornings! Let us get a grip on our mornings. Mine are so wild. For Lent, I did not give anything up but am seeking redemption in my mornings. Up until this past week, I wake when my children wake, filling coffee mugs and sippy cups simultaneously. Battling over whether the television plays Daniel Tiger or the Today Show. Me, in my pajama's, looking for peace and quiet amidst the chaos. Them, in all their bed-head preciousness, seeking my engagement at a level I cannot reach until 10am. 

This week has been good, and bad. 5:30 am people, this is a big difference (my children get up at 8 am, don't hate me). I have loved these sunrise mornings, today I showered, spent time in the Word, drank two cups of coffee, made pancakes, and picked up toys before I heard any baby cries. But by lunch I was ready to go back to bed and now it is 8 pm and I have a list of things to do that I can barely read, I am faint with exhaustion (insert dramatic sigh). All I have wanted to do all day is CHECK OUT and watch the Bachelor finale but that was not in the cards for me. Lots of needs up in here. Daddy's out of town and nobody is napping. 

Note to self and any other people seeking to become born-again-early-risers: DO NOT try this experiment the week of day-light saving's time when the nap schedules completely implode. Apparently all the other parents knew about this before 11 pm Saturday night when Hubby saw it on Facebook (where we get all our news and current events) and informed me we needed to change our clocks. The good, scheduled mothers- who have a stool in their bathroom where they put their make-up on- started shifting their children's nap-time five minutes a day, two weeks ahead of time, and the change was seamless.

But tomorrow I will wake again, me, wild with my fussings and frettings stopping to "come in out of the wind..." I love it! That is from Mere Christianity, folks. Lewis' talks that he gave on the radio while he was at Oxford during World War II compiled into a book of essay's. A great intro to his writing. 

Thanks for reading! Sorry it was so long, I just have so many thoughts about 'making space.' It has been on my mind for so long and I am so bad at it and just want to know if this is a struggle for other people... please someone say yes! And I'm not sure that there is really a Part 2 coming, I have just seen this promise of a sequel on other, better blogs and thought it fitting for today.