Courageous

Before my toes lies a yearning heart, trusting eyes and a mind of unyielding depth. And all of the sudden I'm a philosopher, a referee, a psychologist, and a therapist. I'm the dreamer that sees endless potential, the teacher that inspires vivid creation, the director that fabricates scenes of wild imagination. I'm a being of incomparable zeal that explodes the realm of simple reality in which we exchange our feeble attempts at transcendence. I'm the Statue of Liberty, you are Martin Luther King Jr. We are courageous and we will change the world.

I am a bent-over heap of frustration; inadequate and stumbling at every turn. You are the pink, heart-shaped sticky-notes with scrawled quips of love and kindness that cover the wall. I am the pile of unread books, missed opportunities and dissipated dreams. You are the sequin-bedecked chiffon that lights up the room with rainbows, reflecting the most powerful source of light in our universe.

You climb the scaffolding of my visions and see beyond the horizons of my insufficient sketches. The winds of my torrential self-doubt can't tear at the banner of your confidence and you hold it high, higher than the strength of your own vibrant voice. I carry you on the sloping shoulders of my heart and trust in the changing tides until they sweep you away to the places only wings can take you.

I will remain in the aftermath of your departure, taller than I was with the bricks of your unconditional love and fervor as the foundation of my aging cavity; fuller than I was with the encompassing warmth of your irreplaceable presence.

(photo taken October 2017)

another sunday photo

 scared of the ants

i'm now 30. some of me is old, some of me is new. 

and most of me is a constant rebirth of what has always been. 

i have less energy, but more passion. i have less understanding, but greater faith. 

i still pray and i still cry. but i laugh with greater freedom.

i believe with more faith, i weep with more pain, i pray with greater fervor and seek with less inhibition.

i hope to see you there.

little moments

when their toes start peeking out from their jammies and teeth emerge from the gummy smile.
when their tongue starts twisting to form new sounds and the bangs grow over those mischievous eyes.
when the simplest upset brings a high-pitched scream that makes your hair stand on end,
and everyone's lucky to be alive when it's over.
legs grow longer, fingers grow more nimble, humor grows more sophisticated, tantrums grow louder, and will grows stronger.

but each night it's nearly the same.
eyes closed, heavy breathing, body sprawled over the mass of blankets necessary for slumbering companionship. the door slides open and the hall light illuminates the cherubs safely sleeping.
we look on and like to think we have something to do with their brilliance and beauty.
the door slides closed and dreams take the little souls away until the sun wakes up.
and we do it all over again.
for moments like this, i'd do it forever.

me

it's hard to talk about myself. wait, who am i kidding - all i talk about is what i'm doing, thinking about, wanting to do, planning to do. allow me to rephrase the statement: it's hard to talk about what i think about myself. here i am often candid about the love i have for my girls, how beautiful they are, that even though life is arduous and often dismal as a mom of little children that when i sit down and think about who they are and what i'm doing, i cry uncontrollably over the depth of human beings that roam my world day in and day out.
but today, i'm looking at me and i'm talking about it. i look at this photograph and i see a beautiful woman who loves life, her children, her husband and all good things. she is confident, radiant, powerful, strong, thoughtful and wise. she has a voice and everyone listens to her, respects her and sees her for who she really is. she loves herself and prides herself on being noble and virtuous.
but that's not what i choose to see everyday. i see the spare tire, the bags under my eyes, the unkempt hair, the makeup-less face; i see every little detail that is not put in it's place and kept tidy. i see more sleepless nights, more tears of frustration and discouragement, more tantrums, screams, and dirty diapers. i see an endless pile of laundry and dirty dishes and a fight that just never ends. and when i look at my life this way, i honestly cannot take pride in what i do.

but i read a poem today.


Little Bird
Some days are different. 
One could almost believe that one day is just like another.
But some have something a little more.
Nothing much. 
Just a small thing. 
Tiny. 
Most of the time we don't notice these things.
Because little things are not made to be noticed.
They are there to be discovered. 
When we take the time to look for them, the small things appear.
Here or there. 
Tiny. 
But suddenly so present they seem enormous.
The small things are treasures. 
True treasures. 
There are no greater treasures than the little things.
One is enough to enrich the moment.
Just one is enough to change the world. 
-Germano Zullo

i am a little bird, an enormous bird. i am enough to enrich any moment, i am enough to change the world.

home

family reunion july 2013. bayside, california

i've never been so emotional going home. i couldn't hug my grandma without tearing up thinking of how fragile life is, how quickly it goes by and how frivolously i take my agile body for granted.
i took this journey, just me and my wee ones; two long days of driving there and a long train ride on the way home. i can't explain the way family permeates my existence. though i'm often fooled into believing the contrary, no man is an island; i may traverse the life of young motherhood alone in some way but there isn't one fraction of my body, mind and spirit that isn't powered, buoyed and sustained by  those i deeply love. the tears of my mother, the laughter of my father, the soft fortitude of my grandmother, the vibrance of my sisters; words and photos don't wrap their arms around you, whisk you off on grand adventures or whisper words of comfort through wet eyes. but family does and i thank god for that.

fall

thought i would share this journal entry tonight

I feel like every day I am falling. Continually falling. Sometimes I can't even put one foot in front of the other because I'll just trip and find myself flat on my face once again. I cry, I pout, I shout, I exasperate. And I have a mirror that looks mysteriously like my two and a half year old... and that mirror reflects back at me with disconcerting clarity.
I imagine that it would be easy to see all the bruises covering my elbows and knees and the callous on my hands from clawing my way back to a wobbly but standing position over and over each day. When does this poor mama rest? "Between heartbeats" says my Dad. But my baby looks up at me with her deep blue eyes and doesn't let go for a second. I often think of what she sees; I know it's not the imperfection that I so readily identify with. She sees every need and every comfort her little soul could ever ask for.
I must not be falling in her eyes; I must be floating.

5 days overdue

little eliza was just taking her sweet time. this girl must have been hanging on to constant mommy time as long as she could because it took the doc breaking my water to coax her into this world. that little gem sucks on to mommy with love and devotion night and day. at 7 months she lays her head on my chest and remains still while i stroke her marshmallow cheek. she would sleep in the crook of my arm all night if she could. where jade harbors her sensitive and intriguing little soul, eliza holds passion and zeal and is in no hurry to hide it.
these pictures were taken two days before she arrived. 7 months ago exactly. late pregnancy is so unforgettable yet it's so fleeting. not a day goes by that i don't look at our little wild child #2 and acknowledge how happy i am she is here.

photos by jared medley

a walk with the lady

the girls have been sleeping peacefully for nearly three hours and the house is quiet. i should go to bed but since when does anything worthwhile come without a little sacrifice? a little less sleep never killed anyone, though it has nearly cost me my sanity. 

the lady and i took a walk today. she may have trekked up the street, thrown rocks, climbed cinder blocks, picked flowers, ran, and watched a street cleaner go down the street with intense curiosity. but not me. i went into her little world and stayed there and didn't dare budge.

i've lost all hope that i can look at photographs of my children and not weep. in awe of who they are, in sadness for how far they will venture from my side, and in humility for how they look at me with such unyielding love and devotion.

i could curl up and sleep in her wispy locks. i could press my cheek to hers just plain forever and never tire of the scent of her skin or the writhing she would do to be free of my clutching grasp. 

we live in a world that winds faster and faster with every breath. but time stops dead in it's tracks when this little lady stands there and i open my eyes. 

sweet memory lane

i found these photos today and i instantly cried.

and i may still be crying, though it's the tenth time i've looked at them.

i cried because we don't live in that house anymore; for two years we tended the flowers, vacuumed the carpets, peered out the windows, soaked in the sunshine, played with toys, colored, laughed, broke down, got back up again, and took many first steps together.

i cried because jade is not a little munchkin anymore. she is tall, she has hair, and her cheeks and ears have finally receded and her eyes eat me alive every day that she continues to exist. she doesn't fit in my arms like that anymore. but at least she still fits in my lap. what will i do when she is so big that she can't fit in my heart and needs more than just her mother's love? i won't let it happen - ever.

she's mine forever.

i cried because that is not me anymore. you grow and you change. don't ever take for granted who you are today because that's not who you will be tomorrow. and something inside you, which you can't explain, will miss it. you will miss it's innocence, it's foolishness, it's shortcomings and simply the fact that you can't ever be who you were yesterday.

so live it up my friends.

photos by sarah smylie

real mama campaign

i heard a podcast about this woman and was moved to action; i read her article and i was moved to tears. daily i lose myself in the mothering of my dear, young children and i realized that i am also losing myself to self-deprecation. my children are beautiful, it's easy to see why pictures and posts about them are transcendent. 

but me? 

why say anything about myself? what do i offer in a 'glamour' shot or why is a 'cute' thing i did worth sharing? believe me, there is nothing glamorous or cute about this mama. but there is something noteworthy and beautiful; it's the unkempt hair, the bags under my eyes, the fluff-and-stuff around my mid-section, the snapping and sighing in frustration while cleaning up poop, boogers and throw-up. 

i hide it because it's not creamy white like Eliza's cheeks, it's not drop-dead gorgeous like Jade's eyes 

- it's not easy to look at. 

but i am the life-blood of my home. i am here day in and day out; sweating, crying, laughing, jiggling, teaching, cleaning, cooking, praying and all the while trying to sweep myself under the rug with all the other unpleasant things that collect in the corners.

but no more. 

i am a mama, i am beautiful and i am present.

self-portraits

a cuddle

aaron taught jade how to climb out of her crib. i'm not sure where his brain told him it was a good idea but i'm sure it said something like "this is awesome! our two year old is so smart and agile! she can climb out of her crib! how cute!" he didn't think "my life is now over. i can't keep her in her crib. bedtime is even worse now that there's an extra battle to fight." he didn't think like me. and that's why he's such a great daddy–because he doesn't think like me. he reminds us all to have fun every day and finds some way to make us laugh and giggle.

eliza will only sleep while being held faced outward with her cheek resting in the crook of my arm. maybe she needs to keep her eyes on the world around her and soak it all in, every last waking second of it; or maybe she needs to feel mommy's skin and find comfort in her warmth. whatever the reason may be, she needed me a few extra times tonight and i strive to find joy in it. i try remember that i will miss her precious, cooing smile. even when it's looking up at me at 2am.

right on cue, jade came to the door fifteen seconds after daddy shut the door. i laid next to her on the bed to fulfill her request for "mommy's song" and as i sang, i tried to wipe all the things crying at me from outside the bedroom door; the dirty counters, the clutter-strewn floor, the evil to-do list, a shower... i was there with jade as she turned toward me, our foreheads touching and hands clasped together, i listened to her breathing as it slowed and deepened. there was no camera there to capture us; it couldn't permeate the depths of her soul and the weeping of my heart.

i spent much of my adolescence thinking the world was an immature, lonely place. i yearned for the beautiful imagery of a heavenly existence with a loving Heavenly Father where sadness and tribulation were no more. i began to leave that notion behind as i found great joy in serving the people of texas. i got married to a wonderful man and life was a daily adventure. it wasn't until motherhood that i didn't want to move; i didn't want anything to change and i could spend the rest of my eternal existence cuddling my baby girls, smothering them with the deepest love i have.

play group

i hosted play group today. toys were thrown and grabbed, kids crying and learning to share, mom's laughing and commiserating. i found this when i went back to jade's room to put her down for a nap.

i loved it. i loved the tears and the craziness. there were kids jumping like monkeys on the furniture and locking the doors. each having moments of quiet imagination with new toys. a glimpse into the mayhem of multiple children. there is something indescribably beautiful about all these wild little people we so nonchalantly call kids. yes, indescribable. i need say no more.