but what about those days when "enjoying" him seem so hard? those days when he destroys things you love, and pulls hair, and hits and kicks (his mother!), does the opposite of whatever you tell him, despite numerous "disciplinings"... those days, like today, when he refuses to nap, but spends 2 hours in bed calling for mommy in between crying and happily talking to himself. for some reason, i cannot seem to "cope" on those days. not on top of the nausea and exhaustion...
and then it becomes a choice, even when it doesn't feel like it. a choice to love like jesus in the midst of it. i thought that today - that this must be how it feels to keep pursuing and loving someone (like me) who isn't always very lovable... and i have one of the most adorable boys in the world (no bias here ;)! i look at these pictures and think of all the sweet moments, too. he really is the best.

if you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!

i wanna do a mustache, mom! just ONE.

the outfit he insisted on wearing yesterday haha

every time he wears glasses, i think he looks like ralphie from A Christmas story

snuggling with my preggo belly

so why am i posting midafternoon on facebook: "anyone want a really cute 2-year-old?" because i forget. that motherhood has never claimed to be easy. that just surviving can "get you through", but you both lose something in the process. that eucharisteo can be hard but always brings joy (can you tell i read Ann Voskamp's "One thousand Gifts" recently? :) i started a gratitude journal (because of Ann & Misty) last month while i was in Hawaii (so it was not one that was erased by the rain :), and thought i'd let you all thank God with me in them... here's the first few, the ones from march:

1. prose that reads like poetry to my deepest soul, awakening what has been hardened and hidden

2. moments of quiet rest, when my little whirlwind is asleep or cared for by another

3. my little whirlwind 

4. being mothered when i'm sick - food brought and kisses on the head

5. an invitation to an abundant life

6. my cuddly-jammied 2-year old still wants me to hold him and sing to him before bed

7. the truth that comes to me even in kids' songs... every night i sing "the thankfulness song" to my boy, and never really listened to it until last night after starting my eucharisteo journal

8. "you don't feel good, mommy?" no, buddy. *kiss* "you feel better?" over and over again...

9. cuddly naps with joey (and baby monkey and flopper and bear and blanket... ;) their rarity increases their preciousness

a little perspective

these months have been long and hard and all about surviving… and not so much thriving. although i have asked those near me to pray otherwise, i have only been able to focus on “making it through” this time, realizing it is a season, and will be over in just a few months. i can make it to September, i think aloud, but then “but i will just have to put my heart on hold until then” follows subconsciously. 

and that’s exactly what i have done. i haven’t spent any time creating, art, writing, poetry, even journaling. how can i, when i can’t even meet my family’s basic needs. my poor husband has had to pick up so much slack these many weeks as far as cooking, cleaning, caring for our son… he’s had to stay home from work at times because i’ve been unable to care for myself, much less the constant needs of my little joey. and so it seems i cannot get past the basics to the deeper things. it has felt impossible, and at times even wrong because what about them? 

so i stay on my couch most of the day, making it through with only a little puking in the midst of a lot of nausea. naps every day during his… 

unable to stir my heart to the surface when i have even my cherished alone time, i end up watching movies or playing dumb games on my iphone, all the while feeling that i don’t even have the option to connect.

every once in a while, i remember – i need this. they need me to engage my heart. it would be better for everyone if i could just get myself to start again, creating. 

i become such a better lover when my heart is alive.

and then little "tragedies" stop me in my tracks, keep me at bay.

when we got home a couple weeks ago from visiting my parents in hawaii (which was awesome, see below ;), 

 i discovered that a bag filled with all of my favorite books had been left on the floor in a corner that leaks when it rains hard (we need to fix that ;) - which it did while we were gone. as i took each book out, one by one, i felt my heart dropping... Unfurling by Misty Mawn, Inner Excavation by Liz Lamoreaux, The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, the best issue ever of Artful Blogging (may/june/july 2011)... but as jason pointed out, those are all replaceable. the worst part was the journals. i had two written journals and two art journals/sketchbooks in that bag.

those didn't fare well, and there's nothing i can do to replace them. 

in one, more than three-quarters of my journaling was washed completely off the pages. i set them carefully out to dry, and could not bear to return to my studio space for days.

once they dried out, and i could see the extent of the damage, i finally took the time to grieve over the losses. it seems a little silly, but these were beautiful, connecting parts of my days when i would flip through, exercise my creative spirit, write, create, respond... and it needed to be mourned. then, one by one, i made decisions.


The artist's way: toss. it was soaked, and it had been hanging over my head as "something to complete" (i'd done 9 of the 12 weeks about a year ago and always intended to finish, but one of the assignments was to reread all your journaled "morning pages", and take notes about what it was you were experiencing, desiring, hating, etc and that was taking FOREVER. plus, most of those morning pages just got washed away in the rain anyway - nothing to show for all those weeks!). 
Misty Mawn's book actually came out pretty well - none of the pages stuck together, and it was barely wrinkly at all. the cover a bit faded now, but still definitely readable. 
Inner excavation and Artful Blogging magazine not so much. they are beyond repair. so many stuck together pages, tearing off pieces of each other as they are dislocated from each other... they're not in the trash yet, since i fully intend to replace them (and am afraid i'll forget - you know, pregnancy brain and all - if i don't leave them out till i do it). 

but oh, the journals. i will save them forever, even though most of their content has been erased. maybe that is grace? all that time of writing down stream-of-consciousness, both beauty and frustration... this gives me a chance to start over. wiped clean, if you will. maybe i'll even redeem those (emptied) pages into some art sometime.

all that to say, i find only a few moments here and there, in the midst of being nauseous and exhausted, that i can steal away to create. and with all that destruction, i became disheartened. couldn't even make it into that space to try to begin. just stayed in that space of feeling lost and unable to even try.

until about a week ago, when i found a little perspective.

a dear friend was praying for me in the midst of all this hard, and some of her words were to the effect that i would enjoy these last few months i’ll have with only joey and jason, because life will change yet again once this new little one is born. i hadn’t really thought about it like that, not in a while, at least.  for some reason, it was like a light went on in my head and i suddenly remembered: make the MOST of your time! love on these guys now, ‘cause it won’t always be like this… 


and then this week i read indiana’s post about anticipating her second child, and immediately afterwards, jessica’s about how life has changed since her second was born. and it all hit me. how blessed i am right now, to be able to be home with my irresistibly adorable two-year-old, spending all this time getting to know each other, learning together, playing and reading and cuddling. oh how i will miss spending all that time dedicated just to the two of us (i had only really thought before about how he would miss me with my divided attention, not vice versa)! i’m sure three will bring its own delights (and sorrows), but i have suddenly found myself intensely desiring to cherish every moment with joey. and Jason. our dates, little bits of time just the two or three of us… i’m not taking it for granted anymore.

and that all translates over into also remembering the importance of connecting with my own heart and God’s even in this time, too. i feel more healthy, more like i want all the beauty and truth and hard stuff that comes with really living again. i was given a new perspective, and am so thankful that it was while i still have plenty of time to engage in this place. so i’d say expect more posts, more art, and more of my heart to show up! no, you know what? don’t expect anything – just wait and see… ;)

and i'm here

i breathe in blogged beauty, and i am inspired.   

to write. to let my heart become available once again. be seen.    

loved or rejected, to be me. 

these last few months of silence have been… hard. so much sick, so much tired, so much feeling like i’ve lost my own self in trying to successfully nurture life within and take care of the gifts of man and son i’ve already been given. 

my man, he is wonderful… i call him on his lunch break to let him know how my day has been, and inevitably it sounds like “i’ve been sick, the boy is whiney and driving me crazy, and i can’t get off the couch, much less do the shopping and cooking and cleaning that needs to be done. i can’t even find the energy for a shower.” and his response is all love to my soul. “your job right now is to take care of that baby growing inside and our boy. are they fed? alive? then you’re doing a great job.” 

but they need more than i can give right now and the tears fall more often these days. and in the midst of feeling like i can’t (and should be able to) do it all, that old enemy shame creeps in unnoticed. if i notice, i can take a truth-stand. but it has so many years been the shape of my soul, to know the deeply-something-wrong-with-me feeling, that i so often don’t see it. i’ll notice a day or two (or month) later that i feel disconnected from people, God, life, my own heart. 

these past three months have just been so full of nausea and exhaustion that i rarely find a moment to even take stock, so it builds. 

until some miraculous moment that is God, even when i think it’s not.

like reading comments on a blog post for an hour yesterday that suddenly made me feel less alone. that i’m not crazy. that really engaging my heart with life is the way i can best love Jesus… not the “shoulds”.  even if that looks messy for now.

or what was supposed to be a “romantic comedy” being something else entirely to my heart, honing in on these painful messages of shame that continue to haunt me in the moments i am unaware and leave up no defense; ending up in sobbing tears while folding laundry afterwards, as i remember the woman who could not ask for help, and said to her sister “I’m sorry i make it impossible to love me”…

 or a beautiful post about somebody’s mama that makes me see that being the most me-ish i can be, free and unfettered, is not selfishness, but truly worship of the One who made me that way and delights.

so i come back to my blog, unsure. what it’s about, what it needs to be about, what my heart needs to say… how my words and images can be love to the One and to the ones who need him, too. to connect with the alone-feelers, the shame-fighters, the worshipers, the beauty-delighters, the artists, the recovering perfection-addicts…  

i guess my blog is going to remain a little undefined right now… art? beauty? style? God? maybe. but who i am, my heart experiencing life, really? yes, i think so.