10 Things That Are Better In Ireland

February 10, 20144 Comments

One of the first things you notice when you visit a new place is what is different. When we first moved to Ireland, there were a lot of things that took some getting used to and a lot of things that I missed from home. Today, however, marks one year since I first set foot on Irish soil (when we visited for our house-hunting trip)–and I can tell you with certainty that some things are actually better here. As it turns out, there are several areas where Ireland trumps America. In no particular order:

1. Never-Ending Rainbows
Rarely does a day go by that I do not see beautiful Irish rainbows. Of course, that means that it rains a lot here, but that also means that the sun is sure to follow. I will never get tired of looking out my window to see beautiful colors painted across the sky.

2. Tea Culture
Tea is to Irish as…I don’t know…life is to Americans? Seriously, these people love their tea! And for good reason. The tea is good, but even better is the lifestyle that comes with a culture built around tea consumption. You have to slow down to drink tea. You have to take breaks in your day. You have to invite others over to drink tea with you, and you have to accept invitations to drink tea with others. Sometimes you even have to eat cake with your tea. You see, tea is a very, very good thing.

3. Castles
Ireland: 2,000 (castles, still standing). United States: 0 (castles, ever). Castles are just really cool.

4. Family Parking
I’m sure that only parents of young children can really appreciate the significance of this, but family parking is incredible. Most shopping centers here have special extra-wide parking spaces located near the store’s entrance that are reserved just for families. They’re really VIP parking spots. And, let’s be honest. I’m a mom. I like to feel special. I like to feel appreciated. Thank you, Irish shopping centers, for giving me that little boost every time I go to park my car.

5. Occupied Indicators On Bathroom Stalls
I’ve always wondered why this isn’t more common in America. Instead of entering a public restroom and peeking under the door of every stall to see if anyone is inside, you can just look at the indicator on the door. Red? Move along. Green? Step right in.

6. Eco-Conscious
Europeans are, in general, more eco-conscious than most Americans. In Ireland I have seen people hang their clothes on clotheslines in the middle of winter to avoid wasting energy on dryers. Everyone drives manual diesel cars because they use less gas. They are sticklers for recycling. Alarms start going off if my fridge door is left open for more than 30 seconds. There is no such thing as a plastic bag in this country–anywhere. Bring your own reusable bag or buy one at the store, those are your only options. And the best part about all of this is that living this way is just, well, how people live–you don’t have to think about it or go out of your way to make these eco-conscious choices because they’ve already been made for you.

7. Holidays
All working people in Ireland–whether they are the CEO of a major corporation or flipping burgers at McDonalds for minimum wage–are entitled to at least three weeks of vacation time per year. And everyone takes their vacation time. All of it. Conversations revolve around where you will be going for your holidays this year, not if you will get any time off. Holidays here are not a privilege, they are a right. And for someone like me who is always dreaming of the next vacation, I think this is a pretty good way to look at things.

8. Milk. Cheese. Butter. Cream. Dairy, dairy, dairy!
I have never tasted anything quite so delicious as fresh Irish dairy products. The milk is creamier, the cheese is richer, the ice cream is smoother. The butter is so amazing that David literally eats in by the spoonful straight out of the container (at least, until I catch him and remind him that butter is not one of the basic food groups). And I know why. There is a farm behind our house and from my kitchen window I can see the dairy cows that live there. There are only about a dozen cows and all they do all day is wander up and down lush green hills munching on grass and frolicking beneath rainbows. Irish cows are happy, happy cows. That makes for some durn good milk.

9. Maternal and Baby Benefits
Having a baby in Ireland is a pretty sweet deal. There are no medical costs to the parents for prenatal care, labor, delivery, or recovery. None. Zip. Zilch. After the baby is born, mothers in Ireland are entitled to about 6 months of maternity leave–and the government pays them a stipend each month that they are away from work. There are also government stipends available to new parents to buy essential baby items, a stipend that the government gives you for each child every month (just because), and a stipend to send your child to preschool for FREE. It’s madness, really.

10. Craic
Craic is the Irish term for having a jolly-good time–and the Irish are experts at it. They know how to relax and just enjoy life. Schedules, deadlines, and duties often take a backseat to friends, beer and good music. I can appreciate that.

Now, excuse me for a bit. All of this talk about Ireland and I think I need a pint of Guinness. Perhaps with a chaser of butter.

God’s Faithfulness in 2013

January 12, 2014Leave a comment

The new year always brings with it a time of reflection: what have I accomplished, where have I gone, what would I change about the last year? And with that reflection I often find myself praising God for the way He has been working in every thing that I’ve done, every place that I’ve gone, in every hardship that I’ve faced. Today at church we were challenged to reflect on God’s faithfulness over the last year, to really notice His presence. 2013 was a year of very high “highs” and very low “lows” for me. Yet, through it all, I know that God was with me. He has been, as He always has been and always will be, faithful. Faithful. How do I know? Because I am here.

It was almost exactly a year ago that we first felt called to move to Ireland. It seemed crazy at the time (and more than a few people actually told us that we were crazy for even considering it), but we just knew that God had something new for us. There was a LOT that needed to happen if we were going to uproot our young family and move halfway around the world. A lot of mountains that God was going to need to move to clear the path for our passage. But He did it. Every single mountain that stood in the way–even the mountains that we didn’t see coming–were vaporized before our very eyes. God is faithful.

For starters, we were at the whim of Jon’s company to relocate us internationally. Not such an easy task when you consider the legal, logistical, and monetary aspects that come into play. But, after months of paperwork and negotiation, they signed off on the move. We had our green light. God is faithful.

Then came all of the logistics for actually moving. What would we do with our house in Washington? What would we do with our dog? Where would we live in Ireland? God had an answer for each of those questions, too. Our good friends agreed to move into our house, care for it, pay rent, and let us leave a garage FULL of our belongings in storage there. Check. My parents sacrificed countless hours and put hundreds of miles on their cars running our dog around to state veterinarians and cargo airlines so we could have our beloved dog shipped overseas to us. Check. God placed us in the perfect house (just enough space inside and out, comfortable, and a view of pristine Irish farms out my back window) , in the perfect neighborhood (some of our best friends live across the street, tons of kids for the boys to play with, walking distance to David’s school and our favorite pub), in the perfect city (beautiful, lots of activities, close to everything) for our family. Check. God is faithful.

After the logistics started falling into place, we knew that this move might actually be able to really happen. But what would we do? Would we have any friends? Would we be able to find a church? Would we even like Ireland (which, at that point, neither of us had ever visited before)? Again, God answered every question on our heart. Before we even moved a friend of mine from my teaching days in California contacted me. She heard that we might be moving to Ireland and said if we ever got over there we should check out this little church that a friend of hers pastors. It’s in this city called Cork, had I heard of it? Cork, the city we moved to. The first Sunday we were in Ireland we went straight over to check out this “little church”, and it has been our home ever since. From the moment we walked in the doors, we knew that we were in the right place. We were welcomed with open arms from these brothers and sisters who we’d never even met, and a few short months later, they are our family. We worship with them, we celebrate with them, we love them. God has blessed us through Calvary Cork. God is faithful.

And, as far as Ireland goes, I love it more than I thought I could ever love a place. Before we moved here I don’t think I ever would have taken the time or spent the money to travel out here. But now that we live here, I get sad just thinking about the day that we’ll have to leave. Ireland is a beautiful place with a rich history and the kindest people I have ever met in my life. It’s a magical place where you see rainbows nearly every day and people drive tractors on the freeway. I love it here. God is faithful.

We went into 2013 knowing next to nothing about our future. It was a big year of questions for us. Yet God showed His faithfulness to us in every answer. Looking back now, I would say that the overarching theme of our whole year was exactly that: God is faithful.

I don’t know what 2014 has in store for us–last year taught me to go into things with few expectations and much trust. So that’s exactly what I will strive to do in this new year of 2014. To trust mightily in the God who is always faithful. That no matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter what peaks and valleys I may face, just to trust. Because God is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Because God is faithful.

Allison And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

October 18, 2013October 18, 20132 Comments

David’s most recent obsession is this book called Alexander And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. It’s about this poor boy, Alexander, who is just having the worst day ever. I enjoyed reading this book as a child and now my son is obsessed, too–I guess that misery really does love company.

As I’ve been reading this book over and over and OVER to my son, I couldn’t help but put myself in Alexander’s place a time or two. Sure, Alexander, you got gum stuck in your hair and your mom forgot to pack you a dessert in your lunchbox and you fell in a mud puddle–it really is terrible being a kid. But I think I’ve got you beat. You think it’s so hard being a kid, but just try being a mom. Just try it. I dare you. If you did, your day might go something like this:

Allison And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

By: Allison

Last night I only got 4 hours of sleep last night because Jacob is teething and David had a nightmare about the shadows on his ceiling and just as I was finally starting to drift off to sleep our dog barked at the neighbor’s cat. This morning as I was walking down the stairs to make breakfast I tripped on a rogue Lego and now my foot has a tiny brick-shaped bruise on the bottom of it. I can already tell that it is going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very-bad day.

When I started to make breakfast there was no milk left in the jug. Who drinks all of the milk and puts the empty container back in the fridge? Oh well, I didn’t have time to eat anyway. I had to get both kids dressed, fed, cleaned up, lunches packed and off to school before it was time to drive Daddy to work. I decided that I should get dressed, too, but none of my clothes looked cute this morning. I just put on yoga pants and a dirty t-shirt and called it good. I think I need to live in a place where it’s acceptable to wear grungy clothes and flip flops every day.

I think I’ll move to Hawaii.

After I got everyone else where they needed to be, I had exactly 2 hours before I needed to be back at the preschool to pick David up. I ran (literally, ran. This is the only exercise I got today) to the grocery store to get more milk. Then I ran back home do a few loads of laundry, iron Jon’s work shirts, vacuum the carpets, sweep the floors, feed Jacob a snack, put away the breakfast dishes, clean the bathrooms, take out the garbage and mow the lawn. In the rain. Ugh.

I think I need to move to Hawaii.

When I picked up David from preschool I noticed that he was wearing the “pants of shame”: he’d had a potty accident at school. David was the last pupil dismissed because the teacher wanted to talk to me about The Accident. Apparently it was pretty bad and they had to cut his pants off of him. Great, I actually liked those pants. It’s definitely a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

On our walk home from preschool Jacob was screaming because he was hungry for lunch and David was whining because I wouldn’t let him play Angry Birds on my iPhone and I stepped in a pile of dog poop on the sidewalk and I walked right through a fresh spider web and got the nasty web strands stuck all over my face. It’s been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I knew that it was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day because after lunch I tried to do an art project with the boys but David colored all over the kitchen table and Jacob ate all of the crayons. David put glue in his hair and Jacob smeared paint all over his body like he was some sort of native warrior. After the art fiasco I tried to give them a bath but we didn’t have any hot water so I had to heat kettles of water in the kitchen (downstairs) to fill the bathtub (upstairs) and then when I finally got the tub full and warm enough for their fragile little bodies David decided to pull the drain-stopper and all of the water vanished before I could stop it.

When I move to Hawaii at least the ocean is warm and I can just give my kids a bath at the beach.

During nap time Jacob bit his tongue trying to jump out of his crib and David snuck out of his bedroom and emptied the contents of the bathroom garbage can all over my bed. Neither child slept so now they are both exhausted and cranky. This is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

I got a calendar reminder to file our taxes next week.

Next week, I said, I’m moving to Hawaii.

While I was trying to make dinner David threw a temper tantrum because his orange ball had dirt on it and the dog looked at him funny. Jacob slammed his fingers in a drawer and he wouldn’t stop howling like a wounded wolf pup unless I held him. I burned the chicken and the pasta pot boiled over and I overcooked the broccoli so it got all soggy. I hate soggy broccoli. David spilled a full jug of milk all over the kitchen floor (the same jug of milk, mind you, that I already had to replace this morning) and Jacob threw his entire plate of dinner on top of the dog. I had to microwave my dinner 3 times before I ever got one single bite in. It has been a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.

At bedtime David refused to put on his pajamas, he bit my finger when I was helping him brush his teeth, and it took over an hour to convince him to stay in his bed after lights-out. When we finally got both boys in their bedrooms I went downstairs to try and relax for an hour before my bedtime but there were no good shows to watch on Hulu and the book that I’m reading has somehow disappeared. I couldn’t find my cozy slippers and the dog didn’t want to snuggle with me. I told Jon I’ve had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

He said some days are like that.

Even in Hawaii.

*Disclaimer* Although all of the events in this story have actually happened to me, they have never all happened simultaneously in one single day. This is God’s grace to mothers! I love my children and I would take all the bad days in the world if it meas that I got to keep loving on my boys each and every day, through the good AND the bad. That being said, I still wouldn’t mind a trip to Hawaii. Without the children.

Change and “The 3-Month Rule”

October 11, 2013Leave a comment

“Just when I think I have learned the way to live, life changes.” – Hugh Prather

I’ve had more than my share of “life changes” over the last few years. In less than a decade I have: graduated from college, gotten married, bought a house, raised a puppy (which is a lot more work than I ever gave it credit for!), started a career, ended a career, supported my husband through graduate school, birthed two babies, and moved six times to three unique corners of the globe. With so many changes, it seems at times that the only constant in my life is change itself. Moving to Ireland has no doubt been one of the biggest adjustments I’ve ever had to make. Living in a place that I’d never been to before, with people I’d never met, in a culture that is wonderful but different in so many ways has taken some getting used to. It’s taken some time.

And that’s where the 3-month rule comes in. In my varied experience playing the “change game”, I have discovered that it takes exactly 3 months for the pieces to come together after Big Change. The first week is always chaos, the first month is exciting yet draining, the second month is a mix of “what did I get myself into?” and discovery, and by the third month you start to figure things out. At the three month mark you finally feel comfortable in the new scenario, like you can actually handle this New Thing. And that’s where I find myself now.

Today marks 3 months since we arrived in Ireland. I finally feel at home, like I fit in here. I know how to drive places without GPS (and I don’t even have to think twice about which side of the road to drive on any more!). Our house feels like the place where our family lives. I remember to turn on the hot water boiler exactly 42 minutes before my kids need to take a bath. My son goes to school. I know where to find everything at the grocery store and I know my favorite vendors by name at our farmer’s market. I have a favorite park. I am serving at our church. I know our neighbors. I have friends. I am at peace with my Big Change.

But that still doesn’t mean that it’s always easy. There are times where I miss my friends and my family and I just want to talk to them and I go to call them and then realize that it’s 3 AM in Seattle so I hang up the phone. Or when I crave something from home that I just can’t have (where are the pumpkins, Ireland?!). Or when I start a conversation and realize that nothing I’ve said actually makes sense to the person I’m talking to. So, yes, there will still be adjustments and some things that I just have to get over. But that’s all part of the beauty of living through a Big Change: it changes you.

And that really is the best part of this whole experience: I know that I will walk away from this a different person, a better person. My life is being enriched by the people I am meeting, the places I am seeing, the new ways I am learning to think and to live. I am learning to trust God in new ways and to call on Him (no crazy time zones to worry about there!). Nobody ever said that change was easy, but I think that it is necessary. And now, after 3 months, I can honestly say that I appreciate this change.

Here’s to 3 months down, and many more to come. The learning curve is over–let the fun begin!

My 100th Post: 100 Reasons I Love Being A Mom

September 27, 2013Leave a comment

Today I am posting my 100th entry to this little blog of mine. Over the course of my last 99 entries I’ve written about many subjects, but the overarching theme has definitely been “mommy life”. I’ve written about hot topics such as what it takes to be a mom, how to prepare yourself for parenthood (Good luck with that one!), how I attempt to get things done with my kids around (Again, best of luck), how we discipline, how we travel with our kids, what I feed my kids, and the ridiculous things that I do as a mom. Lots of…mom stuff. So, for my 100th post I thought it would be appropriate to write about my favorite mom-topic: how much I love being a mom. I could probably share with you a million reasons why motherhood is the best “job” in the world, but I’ll practice a bit of self control and stick to 100 (100th post, remember?). And now, here are the top 100 reasons why I love being a mom:

Snuggles
Hearing my baby say “Mama!” all day long
Getting to see God answer my prayers for my children
Ugga Muggas
Seeing that first ultrasound pictures of the life growing inside me
Parenting with my husband
Having my family be my full-time “job”
Waking up to children’s voices instead of a buzzing alarm (I just wish those sweet little voices would learn how to sleep past 7 AM…)
Going to children’s museums and kiddie playgrounds
Teaching them new things
Seeing the light in their eyes when they learn something new and have that “Aha!” moment
Growing in the virtue of “patience”
Singing lullabies
Tiny naked bottoms running to the bathtub
Bubble baths
The smell of a baby
Kissing boo-boos
Watching my older son teach his little brother (mostly it’s just him teaching the baby how to get into mischief, but I’m sure it will come in handy some day)
My new-found appreciation for all things “balls” (if you know David, you know exactly what I mean)
Hearing a small voice say, “I love you”, and knowing that he really means it
Watching first steps (and first everythings!)
Having an excuse to eat chicken nuggets and Mac ‘n Cheese
Witnessing innocence
Playing!
Watching my children grow and change
Hearing David say the phrase, “So, I was thinking today we could…”. He sounds just like his Mommy.
Splashing in mud puddles
Nursing my baby until he falls asleep in my arms
Re-watching classic movies like “The Lion King” and “Cars”
Exploring new places with my kids
Stroking feathery-soft baby hair
Learning in a whole new way how to trust God each day
Celebrating holidays through the eyes of a child–it’s magical
The hilarious things they say
Wrestling (even though Daddy definitely has me beat in this area!)
Seeing bits of me and my husband in our children
Kissing their sweet, soft, pudgy little cheeks
Teaching my kids God’s Word
Comforting my kids when they are upset
Painting with our fingers
Baby laughs–there’s no problem in this world that a baby laugh can’t cure
Reading with my children
Oggling their teeny-tiny clothes
Being the one they run to when they are scared
Priority boarding on airplanes
Helping them
Praying with them
Sharing in their joys and sorrows
Learning from them
My son’s excitement to see me when I pick him up from school
Trying new things
Wiping away crocodile tears
Listening to David talking to and playing with other children
Seeing how excited they get over the little things in life
Knowing that I helped create something AMAZING
Sharing in my kids’ curiosity
Nourishing and sustaining another life with my own body
Being appreciated
Watching David DEVOUR his broccoli and turn up his nose at a cookie (he may not be my child after all…)
~~Feeling~~ Acting younger than I am
All the cute baby gear
Planning their birthday parties
Because my kids rock!
Helping to shape a young life that will influence the world long after I’m gone
Doing the mundane…but having it feel purposeful
Watching my kids sleep
Lazing around together in our jammies
Watching David dance and sing
Mimi and Gigi
Taking the boys swimming
Buying bunch after bunch after bunch of bananas
Doling out M&M’s for potty successes (and always sneaking a few for myself…)
Having picnics together
Baby kisses (they feel more like baby licks, but I know that he means them lovingly)
Blowing raspberries on their tummies and watching them squirm
Swinging on the swings and sliding on the slides with them
Watching them spend hours on a “meaningless” task like putting balls in a basket or throwing rocks into water
Playing Peek-a-boo and Pat-a-cake
Encouraging them
Witnessing David’s unique sense of style (which usually includes 3 layers of basketball t-shirts and nothing else)
Brushing their teeth and seeing new teeth appear in their mouths seemingly every day
Being humbled by my children
Tickling my baby during diaper changes
Bedtime. ‘Nuf said.
Counting tiny fingers and tiny toes
Holding their hands
Seeing David’s “cheese face” when we’re taking his photo
Unconditional love
Watching Jacob crawl at lightning speed when he sees something he wants across the room
Challenging them and being challenged by them
Sharing in their dreams
Hearing my baby clap when he’s excited
Helping them see their potential
Cuddling when they don’t feel well
Meeting new friends with my kids
Watching David DOMINATE at Angry Birds
Experiencing old things from a new perspective
Finding toys in random places to remind me that my children have been here
Laughing uncontrollably when David rolls down a hill and then (dizzily) tries to run back up to the top
Loving them. I just love loving them.

So there you have it, 100 reasons I’m one of the luckiest people in the world. Thank you for letting me be your mommy, boys!

Things I Miss (Or How I Am A Junk Food Addicted American)

September 24, 20131 Comment

This morning we dropped Jon off at the airport for his first international business trip since we’ve moved to Ireland. He’s going to…California! We figured that it’s actually going to take him longer to fly to California from here than it would have taken him to drive there from Seattle. Go figure.

Before he left for his trip he asked if there was anything I needed him to pick up for me while he was back in the states. And, since we’ve been here for all of 3 months now, I already had a list of things that I can’t find here that I miss from “home”. As I looked the list over, however, I came to a disturbing realization: I am a junk food addicted American. I mean, really, why was I eating this crap in the first place and, more importantly, why do I miss it all so much? I swear I didn’t eat these things THAT often, but somehow now that I know I can’t have them I’m just craving them like crazy. The list went something like this:

12 boxes Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (the blue box, not cheap store brand)
Goldfish crackers
Fruit snacks (10% real fruit juice or less, please)
Puffs (for baby)
GoGo Squeez pouches
Chocolate chips (the 10 lb. bag from Costco should do just fine)
Dr. Pepper
Root Beer
Graham Crackers
Grape jelly
Pho with extra hoisin sauce
Funfetti Frosting
Toffee
Reeses Peanut Butter Cups
Peanut Butter M&M’s
Jif Peanut Butter
Peanut Butter Twix
JUST ANYTHING WITH PEANUT BUTTER!!!
Individually packaged frozen boneless skinless chicken breasts
Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup (NOT real maple)
Baked beans
Black beans
Tabasco Sauce
Chai Tea mix
Pumpkin puree
Pumpkin puree (I actually did–unknowingly–write it 2 times on the list…I guess it’s really just that important to me)
A shop/cafe/restaurant/coffee stand with a drive-thru. Preferably a 24-hour drive-thru. I’d even settle for anything that’s open before 10 AM and/or past 7 PM.
Starbucks

So, there you have it, I am a glutton. Have fun shopping, Sweetie, and I hope they let you back through customs. Anything you are not able to procure on this trip will be added to my “binge list” for our trip home at Christmas time. You’ve been warned.

Pinterest V. Reality

September 20, 20136 Comments

About a year ago–when I was spending about 8 hours a day sitting in a chair nursing my newborn–I discovered the addictive internet time-suck called Pinterest. For those of you who have managed to evade the world of Pinterest and pins and pinners and all that is “pinteresting”, let me fill you in.

Pinterest is a website where you basically create virtual bulletin boards of images from the internet. Each “board” is a collection of ideas and inspirations that you create and share with others on the website. You might have one board full of cooking ideas, another with birthday party ideas, another with fashion tips, and so on.

When I last checked, I had over 20 different boards chock-full of amazing ideas. Ideas that, last time I checked, have pretty much all remained at the “I should try that some time” stage. Because, you see, Pinterest is not reality.

I like the idea of beautiful organization and creative DIY projects and over-the-top parties. But I can’t do that stuff. Pinterest is beautiful and clean and well-planned–real life, though, tends to be more chaotic and dirty and thrown-together. Here are a few examples of how my real life compares to the magical world of Pinterest.

Pinterest: Cute little bins for each day of the week to entertain your child during quiet time. Each bin is full of interesting activities that will captivate even the most restless of preschoolers. Reality: About two weeks ago David gave up his naps. Cold turkey. He’d always taken a 2-3 hour snooze in the afternoon and then, out of the blue, he just quit taking naps one day–and he hasn’t looked back. So now we have “quiet time”–time where he is supposed to retreat to his room and rest or play quietly for half an hour so I can prep dinner or watch YouTube videos in peace. I have discovered, however, that the quieter he is during his quiet time, the more trouble he’s getting in to. Case in point: Moral of the story: the only thing worse than a noisy 3-year old boy is a quiet 3-year old boy.

Pinterest: Cute, hip, trendy, fashionable. This is how I should look. Reality: My baby would smash bananas on the cute shirt, my 3-year old would break the shiny glasses, I’d trip in the ooh-la-la shoes, and the bag would be full of diapers and spit-up rags. My mommy uniform of choice consists of black yoga pants, a technical shirt and my fuzzy Ugg-inspired slippers. If you ever see me looking even remotely cute or hip or fashionable, you know I’m just putting on a show for you.

Pinterest: An immaculately organized closet for baby. Everything is sorted by size and color and adorableness.

Reality: We recently moved into a smaller space (and, by smaller, I mean that Jacob literally sleeps in a closet now). We have to make the space work for us. And, by work for us, I mean we have stuff crammed into every nook and cranny we can find. Jacob’s closet consists of his jackets, boxes for the too-big/too-small baby clothes, a laundry basket full of diapers and wipes, more diapers piled up the sides of the closet, a Pac-N-Play on the floor, and luggage piled up to the ceiling. Hey, it works.

Pinterest: Dazzle your child with this rainbow-layered sprinkle cake. Reality: I made a sprinkle cake, too: chocolate cake mix from a box, topped with sprinkles. …and within about 2 seconds, it looked like this: I bet mine was just as yummy, though!

Pinterest: Look at this cute way to organize all of your child’s art and craft supplies. Cute, cute, cute. Perfect little jars arranged on a shelf. Notice how each jar contains exactly one type of supply. Notice also how all of the crayons are in one piece with their wrappers on, the markers all have lids, and the chalk is unused. Reality: We have a large Rubbermaid bin that I stash under a bench in our kitchen. Into this bin we stuff all of our crayons, paint, markers, Play-doh and stickers and we pull it out any time we feel like getting crafty. And, just so you know, half of the markers are lid-less and all of the crayons are in tiny, broken shards.

Pinterest: A DIY family rules sign. Charming. All you have to do is go out to the woods, chop down a tree, plane the wood until you have a smooth working surface, prime the wood, paint the wood, apply a second coat of paint, create text stencils on your Cricut, adhere the text with a glossy varnish, “weather” the wood with sandpaper, and drink a glass of wine to reward your hard work.

Reality: I bought this sign on Etsy. It took me less than two minutes to select the product, enter my credit card info, and hit “submit order”. I still drank a glass of wine to celebrate a job well done.

So, Pinterest: I love you. I hate you. You inspire me, you guilt-ify me. In the end, though, you really just entertain me. I know that I can never live up to your unrealistic expectations, and that’s fine by me. I’m just gonna keep on going the best way I know how–and it’s gonna be messy, and unorganized, and frumpy. It’s gonna be real.

Mother Runner

September 9, 2013September 9, 2013Leave a comment

This morning after I dropped Big Guy off at preschool and Daddy off at work, Little Guy and I headed out for a run. It was a beautiful, crisp Fall morning and the tail was beckoning us (Okay, the trail was beckoning me. As you can tell by the photo above, the trail was doing little more than lulling Jacob to sleep).

I love running. I love running so much that I actually do it for sheer enjoyment, not just because I’m being chased (which, in a house with two little boys, is also a common occurrence). I started running in elementary school when I joined our school’s Track team (cute, right?)–and I’ve just been going ever since. I run for the pure joy of running.

Just me, my shoes, and the open road. And a jogging stroller. Can’t forget the jogging stroller.

Now that I have two young children attached (quite literally) to my hip, they get to accompany me on most of my runs. My sons have become my trusty running companions–my training partners, if you will. They motivate me to run faster (Are we done yet, Mommy? I have to go potty.), they increase my stamina (Have you ever felt how heavy those dang strollers loaded down with children weigh?), and they give me purpose for my training (Just try keeping up with two boys all day. I swear they produce enough energy to power a third world country). Plus, it’s actually a lot of fun running with them.

With the help of my tiny running partners we’ve discovered new places…

..and rediscovered the past.

While running, we have bonded as a family…

…and met many new friends

We’ve explored beautiful landscapes…

…and icy frontiers.

I hope that as my boys get older they will remember our runs together as happy times. Times when we explored our world and grew stronger together. Who knows, maybe some day they’ll even run with me, and they can show me new wonders that they’ve discovered. No matter what, though, I am a Mother Runner.

Just try to keep up, boys.

Wasp Apocalypse

September 6, 20131 Comment

For the last several weeks we have been experiencing what I can only describe as the Wasp Apocalypse. It seems like every square inch of Ireland is covered in wasps–and they just won’t go away. It’s gotten to the point where I won’t even go into my own back yard without toting along my trusty fly swatter (or, if I’m feeling particularly feisty, a baseball bat). I open my kitchen window to let in some fresh air and, within minutes, the room is full of buzzing, flying, crawling, stinging wasps. And it’s the stinging part that really gets me.

I have, shall we say, an aversion to bees. When I was a little girl I accidentally jumped on top of an active beehive, and I paid the price. Ever since that incident I’ve been pretty wary of bees and their stingers.

I hadn’t actually been stung in over a decade until I entered the Irish Wasp Apocalypse. A couple of weeks ago we were walking through the Medieval Festival and, out of nowhere, a wasp stung me IN THE ARMPIT. That’s a sensitive area! I held it together pretty well, though, and I did survive (I’m still pretty ticked off that I wasp would just come up and sting me when I was minding my own business, thankyouverymuch).

But even getting my own sting didn’t set me off on a rampage. No, that happened when they attacked my offspring. My poor, sweet little boy–how dare they. We were playing an afternoon game of “wack-a-wasp” in our kitchen (David’s actually quite good at it), and he’d just downed his most recent target. David was so proud of his successful attack. He brought me over to show me the wasp that fell at his fly swatting skills. He went to pick up the wasp carcass for proper disposal. The wasp wasn’t completely gone yet. It stung him.

You should have seen the look of shock and confusion and pain on his tiny face. And then the screams came. And came. And came. Poor little thing had never felt a sting before, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

After some quick first aid, an M&M, and a Pac Man band-aid he was on the road to recovery again. But I was angry. These wasps had not only infested our yard, our house and our lives, but now they were hurting our family. Enough is enough.

Thus launched my career as a wasp murderer. I tried to jimmy-rig my own diy wasp trap from an empty milk carton, but the dog drank all of the soapy sugar water that was supposed to attract, then kill, the little buggers. I tried setting out bowls of enticing foods to lure the wasps to a central location, but they must have sensed I was on to them and they flew right by.

So, I’m back to the fly swatter. I keep it in my back pocket now. And to any wasp who dares come near me or mine: beware.

I’m after YOU.

A Note of Encouragement For C-Section Mamas

September 5, 2013September 5, 20133 Comments

A dear friend of mine recently had her first baby–a joyous event, to be certain, but one that nonetheless left her feeling a bit heartbroken. The beautiful, natural birth experience that she had spent 9 months dreaming about was shattered when her doctors wheeled her into the O.R. for a C-Section. She was devastated. And I can relate.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I planned an all-natural out-of-hospital birth.

It ended in a C-Section. I was devastated.

Twenty-one months later I was ready to deliver my second baby. This time, things would be different. Since I’d had a previous C-Section I was denied access to the same birth center where I’d labored with my first baby. So, next best bet, I chose the best VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-Section) doctor in my region to help me deliver my baby “naturally” in a hospital.

It ended in a C-Section. I had hope.

This letter is to all of you mamas out there who, like me, have unexpectedly been thrown on the C-Section Roller Coaster.

Dear C-Section Mama,

This sucks. I know. And even though “at least everyone is healthy”, it still sucks. Yes, your baby is perfect and wonderful and safe. But that doesn’t change the fact that things just aren’t…right.

It’s alright to love your baby and still feel saddened by their birth. You wanted something different, something beautiful. Something that you experienced from start to finish–every pain, every squeeze, every push, every sensation. You wanted to know what it was like to feel life enter the world. That was taken away from you. And it sucks.

You spent months–if not years–dreaming about your baby and their birth. You read all the books. You ate all the right foods (okay, most of the right foods!). You exercised. You planned and you prayed. You did everything…right. Yet this still happened. It sucks.

And the worst part of all? You know that your body was designed to do this. A woman’s body is supposed to bear children and, one would assume, birth them at the appropriate time. Yet somehow your body has failed you in this most basic of tasks. It sucks.

While everyone around you is marveling at your new bundle of joy, you can’t help but feel a nagging feeling of loss. A loss of the experience you wanted to have for that baby’s birth–the only chance you had to experience that baby’s birth. And, you know what? That’s a fine feeling to have. Because, despite the joy and the relief and the love you are feeling right now, it’s also okay to feel the loss. It was real, and it hurts.

Know this, though, Mama. You are strong, you are capable, and you are going to be an amazing mother to this child. The birth experience that you lost does not define you, and this is only the beginning of the greatest adventure you’ll ever take. An adventure that will have many peaks and valleys, some expected, but many that you never saw coming. ‘Tis the spice of life.

There are other moms out there who have been through this very experience right along with you–and we’re all cheering for you. Not for your loss, but for your gain.

Welcome to the best role you’ll ever get to fill: Mama.

You, of all women, have definitely earned it!

We Love, Teach, Grow

My journey through motherhood

Category: Musings