the 'good life'.

Several days ago, I had a very interesting conversation with a young woman. We were talking about colleges, careers, and life in the 'real world'. She asked about my career path, where I'd been, what'd I'd done. She was interested in pursuing a job similar to what I'd done when I first graduated. I started talking about internships and how helpful they might be to her. In passing, I'd mentioned an internship I'd done in Northern Virginia during graduate school., and how that had led to a job offer in Washington D.C. after I graduated. Her eyes widened as I'd said that, and then I watched her mouth drop when I told her I turned it down.

"You turned down a job opportunity in D.C. to come back here?"

"Yep. Yep, I did."

That moment took me back. Back to that summer when Ben and I were newly engaged, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed. I had just finished my internship, and completed several interviews. I got a call as I was packing to come in for a second interview. I did, and I was offered the job. The benefits were exceptional, the job was exciting, the pay was good. It was everything (and more) I was looking for. I getting ready to sign the paperwork when I noticed the job location....Washington D.C. 

I asked if I could look the papers over, and come back with my answer the next day. I went back to my apartment and called Ben. He was ecstatic for me. He knew how much I'd dreamt of getting something like this. I wanted to be happy, too. But I couldn't. My heart wasn't there. I felt like a failure. I was disappointed in myself. I had worked so hard to get that paperwork. I had dreamed of getting my education, going to a big city, and getting a big city job. I felt like I couldn't succeed unless I left my little town. There was nothing here for me to give me the 'good life' that I thought I wanted so much.

The next day, I drove back home without those papers. I had turned them back in, unsigned. I had thanked them for the opportunity, and then made up some pathetic excuse about why I was declining the job offer. I was embarrassed and ashamed to tell them I just couldn't leave my little ole' sleepy town.

I cried most of the way home, about 6 hours worth of tears. I was mad at myself. I was frustrated with myself. I felt like I'd wasted so much of my young adult life pursuing a 'good life' that I had just walked away from. I dreaded telling people. I dreaded the criticism. 

And criticism I did face. Lots of it. You spent all that time, that effort to get to where you wanted to be, and instead you come back home. What are you going to do there? What kind of job can you get? You are wasting your time there. You could've had it good.

I couldn't explain myself. I didn't know what to say. All I knew is that home was where my heart was.

Five years later, I look back and I smile. I want to hug that girl crying in her car on her way back home. I want to assure her life will turn out so much better than she could have imagined that day. I remember the feeling she had that day, and the sharp sting of disappointment she had in herself. Oh, what I would tell her now!

She does have the 'good life' now. No, it's not the same 'good life' she had imagined. It's better than that.

You see, my definition of the 'good life' has changed. It goes far beyond prestigious jobs and big paychecks.

To other people, my life probably looks completely 'un'glamorous. I've heard, by definition, I live in a 'hick town, with small-minded people'. There's very few 'opportunities' for people here, and if you ever want to 'make' anything of yourself, you can't do it here.

And you know, by modern American standards, where we push a definition of visual success on every corner, that's probably about right. No, I don't live in a booming industrial area, or a flourishing business district. And we don't offer lots of 'opportunities', as defined by society today. And we may not be the picture of the 'good life' that most people imagine.

But how do you define 'good'? Is it a 6-figure salary? A powerful job? Nice cars? Couple of houses? Designer clothes? My definition of 'good' may not fit yours, and it most likely doesn't fit modern America's definition of 'good'.

You see, my point is this 'good life' that we often strive so hard to achieve is based on what we value as 'good'. Some may believe living in a big, metropolitan area, working a fast track job and having luxuries that this lifestyle provides is considered the 'good life'. And that's fine. That's their value of good.

However, the good life to me is living in a small town. It's letting my baby learn to potty train by peeing off our back porch. It's going to the old high school ball games and knowing where families sit because they've sit in the same place for 20 years. It's a bit of security in an unstable world. It's sitting on your front porch watching a busy world go by. It's hearing about an accident, and having your heart sink because it's likely someone you know. It's going to Teddy's and hardly finishing your meal because you've talked to half of the people in the restaurant. It's driving down old country roads, waving at everyone that passes by. It's watching a small community rally around the sick and the hurting. It's knowing your mailman and UPS man by first, middle, and last name. It's knowing who everyone's 'mother and daddy' are. It's the small town parades that shut the town down. It's growing gardens and raising animals. It's being surrounded by caring family, friends, and neighbors. It's hearing only crickets, frogs, and an occasional night-shift worker drive by during the nights. It's a comfortable feeling in an uncomfortable world. It's working hard, taking care of your family, and being happy with where you are. And it's knowing that, despite the stereotypes of where you live, it's truly God's country, and you couldn't be happier.

So as I sit here and type this, with my windows up, listening to the birds and watching the cows walk through the pasture, I am overwhelmed with thankfulness. I know I am living the good life...the good life as I see it. 

Have a blessed Friday :)

woe to the grocery store mom.

Take a deep breath.

Close your eyes. Inhale. Slowly, yes, that's it. Now exhale. Open your eyes. You look at your watch. It's 4:17. You can do this. You know you can. You're ready. You unbuckle your seat belt, grab your behemoth of a purse (making sure you've got ample distractions to see you through your mission), and make your way to the back seat. He's grinning ever so slyly, as if he's already planned the havoc he will wreak. You take a final deep breath, unbuckle him from the carseat, and make a mad dash for the door. 

You have arrived. Your weekly grocery store trip with a toddler.

Once inside, you move quickly towards the carts, hoping you can slip his spider legs into those friggin' square holes before he screams 'NO!', or 'OUCH, you are hurrrrrrting me!'

Mission accomplished.

Now, you settle your belongings elsewhere in the cart because that little space that once held your purse, remember that? Yea, it's now holding your kid, an army man, an owl, 2 coats and a hat. Yea.

You head straight for the bakery. It's not your normal route, but you've learned. You've got either a cupcake or a cookie's worth of actually shopping time, max. Don't waste time, go for the gold. You'll have one free cookie from the bakery (secretly hoping your son doesn't want it because it looks like it belongs in your mouth, fast). As you wheel away, he notices the pig shaped cupcakes.

"I want THAT mommy!"

"No, son, you just got a cookie. Eat your cookie. You've not had supper yet."

"No", he says, "I WANT A CUKKKKCAKEEEEE".

You give him the bleepity bleeep cupcake. Why? Because you are mother of the year, and you want to get through the grocery store before it closes. Plus, you'll get half of that cookie. Score.

You head back to the produce aisle and enjoy 3.21 minutes of peace, as your son smears icing from his chin to the back of his head. People give you a few looks. Yea, you try taking a 2 year old boy grocery shopping, stuffing him in a cart, and trying to get out of the store in less than 6 hours. Then you come talk to me, middle-aged business man.

Vegetables and fruits, done. On to the bread aisle. You've got to distract him first so you can make it past the oversized balloons and animals. Talk about firetrucks or guns. Check.

Now, back to that bread. Oh, how I love my bread, I ju-...

Crap.

You just spotted *Susie (not her real name) in the bread aisle. Maybe she didn't see you...maybe?
No such luck. She waves you over. Dang you, Susie. Look at her figure. I bet she didn't spend an extra 12 minutes trying to tuck her muffin top in her skinny jeans. She's got all seven kids with her, too. Her kids are eating carrot sticks. Wayta go, mom.

You engage in small talk, something about kids growing up too fast. You tell your kid to wave at her kids as you're leaving. Your kid frowns.

Off to the meat section. Gah, you hope that live lobster tank is full because that cupcake is almost gone.

Ahh, score! Three lobsters floating in the tank. He's preoccupied for a few seconds. You grab the meat. You'd love to make some elaborate meal with that pork loin, but that would require concentration and logging on to Pinterest to scroll and click for hours trying to find a recipe, and we know 'ain't nobody got time for that'.

Hamburger meat it is. You can do something with that. Fry it up, grill it up, boil it up. You're a regular chef.

Cupcake is now gone, lobsters are nowhere near...it's crunch time. You run through the aisles now.
Cheese puffs, check. Brownie mix, check. Nutella, check. You are gaining weight just looking at your cart.

You round the corner to grab some frozen pizzas, and you spot *Liz (not her real name). Oh no. You say hello and engage in a little small talk, all the while you are scanning her cart. Organic spinach, whole wheat vegetable potato crisps, lobster (!), wine, steak...You quickly glance in your cart. ValueTime cheesy puffs, chicken nuggets, Scooby snacks, cookie dough ice cream....not to mention your child who is covered in cake icing from head to toe. *Liz is a newlywed. She asks about your son, and says they'd like to have a baby within a year or so.

What do you say to that?

SLEEP NOW! Go to bed tonight and do not wake up until you plan to conceive. Then, go back to bed and sleep 9 more months until you feel the urge to push. Then, AND ONLY THEN, should you wake up. And, EAT that steak, dangit, EAT it every.single.night. And fix elaborate casseroles and fancy side dishes to go with it. And then, have tiramisu for dessert. Because one day, chicken nuggets and cheesy puffs will be gourmet cooking. AND enjoy that cute little figure. Wear a bikini. Soon enough, you'll be spending 10 extra minutes in the morning trying to strategically tuck your spare tire into those self-proclaimed skinny jeans. Ahh! SKINNY JEANS! Sleep in them. Bathe in them. Bend over in them without flashing 5 1/2 inches of your crack to total strangers. And ma-

"MOMMMMMMYYYYYY HELPPPP MEEEE!"

Your desperate thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your screaming child, who is climbing out of the cart and has managed to get his foot stuck in that friggin' square hole as 3/4 of his body dangles over the side.

"Oh my gosh, Liz, I'm so sorry. I've got to run. Take care. Good to see you. And sleep. DO IT NOW."

You push your cart with your dangling child to the side. You try to fit him back in the cart, but it's over now.

"No. I want to walk mommy". 

"Just get back in and we'll go home and play trains!"

"NOOOOOOOO! I wanna walk!"

Forget it. Just grab his hand and go. You've got to get eggs, and that's it. You're home free after that. As you start walking, he manages to slide from the grip of your hand. Crap. He takes off. He runs up the aisle, squeezing through strangers, laughing and squealing the whole way. You're pushing that 13747 pound cart as fast as you can, quickly breaking into a small jog. Workout for the day? Done and done.

Suddenly, you lose sight of him. 

You find yourself in the deli/bakery section sweating like you are 1 week postpartum. Where in the world did he go? You panic. Screaming his name, you hear a little voice.

"Mooooommy, tome find me!"

It's coming from underneath a bakery table. You lift the tablecloth. There he is, with that little icing-glazed devilish grin. You grab him, give him a serious talk about running away from you, and decide you've had enough.

Checkout. Let's go do this. You're least favorite part. Why? The little gadgets...trucks, balloons, candy, chapstick...he wants it all.

Distraction. Distraction is key here. Get your purse out. Find something, ANYTHING, he can play with. Money? No, he's over that. Keys? Nope, been there, done that..he's moved on. Old credit cards? No, he gets too bored with those. Now you're down to lipstick or a tampon. For the sake of the innocent bystanders, you give him the lipstick.

He's amazed. Digging his chubby little fingers in the center of the lipstick, smearing it on his upper lip and nose, and giggling the entire time.

"Wook, mommy, I'm wearin' makeup!"

Between the icing and the lipstick, he looks like he's painted for Halloween. Yep. Mother of the year. You swipe your card, not even looking to see how much you've spent, grab your receipt, and get the *#&#@ out of dodge.

You wheel your way back to your car, sling your groceries in the back, strap your kid in, and drag yourself to the driver's seat. Exhausted, you seriously contemplate taking a small nap in the parking lot. Your thought is interrupted by the sound of that sweet little voice.

"HEYYYYY MOOMMMMMY!!"

You look in the rear view mirror. He looks like a young Tammy Faye Baker with all of that lipstick and icing on. Ohhh, your lipstick. Your precious lipstick. It looks like a melted suppository now. 

"Whatcha' want buddy?" you ask.

"Mommy, you're my best friend!"

Your heart melts into a puddle right there in the floor of your car.

"You're mine, too, baby!"

It's just another day in paradise. 

Have a blessed Friday :)

a bunch of nothing.

I apologize, this is going to be the most unorganized, pointless post I've ever written. It will be full of useless information, presented in no logical fashion. Currently, I'm a little tipsy on Children's Benadryl (not kidding), sitting on my couch listening to my 2 year old refuse to nap, while he's sitting in his bed talking about deer jerky, school buses, and 'mans'. I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience. 

Do you ever get in a 'funk', where all you want to do is nothing at all?

Well, I'm in a little 'funk' right now. And actually, the problem is that I want/need to do many things and I get into overload mode, and then I just overwhelm myself and would rather sit on my couch and eat Girl Scout Cookies.

Speaking of Girl Scout Cookies......dang them Girl Scouts. I love how their cookie season coincides with the early months of the year. I mean, what if I were trying to diet? How could I diet knowing they were selling cookies? They come once a year. I wait ALL.YEAR.LONG to eat my peanut butter patties. I'm not dieting (for the record), but still!

Anyway, back to my funk. I've been on Spring Break this week (can I stop and tell you how much I love my job? Because I do. I reallllly do). And as I sit and type this on Friday, it's the first day I've been home. I've been crossing off my list all week long. This prep work before we build our house is intense.  So many errands, papers to sign, permits to get...it's making my head spin. Don't get me wrong, I am SO excited, and feel so blessed to be able to do this, but I underestimated the amount of prep work.

I've also got a few projects I've been working on myself. One specific project has woken me up at 3 in the morning at least 2 times this week. I wake up thinking about it, wondering if I should go through with it, and imagining all the different possibilities with it. I hate to be so vague about it, but it's still something I'm thinking/praying about and not sure if I want/have time to do. Hopefully I can talk more about it soon.

I have been neglecting my blog like crazy. I really intended to blog more since I've been home a little more, but somehow it never happens. I've got a few new recipes I've been meaning to share, and even a few DIY projects, but I haven't even photographed them. It has something to do with a curious and demanding toddler. Y'all. This is what my kitchen looked like the other night when I was cooking one of those recipes I meant to share:

That's macaroni on the floor in case you can't tell. How did I cook a meal before I had a son? I mean surely I was making prime rib and dessert every night. If I wasn't, I had no excuse not to.

In other unimportant news, this happened last weekend:

Yep. That's me and Tony Dungy. Ben and I went to a coaching clinic this past weekend where he was the guest speaker. I didn't want to hound him for a picture, but I knew I'd never have a chance again, so I shamelessly followed him until I got close. He was a tremendous speaker, and was just as I imagined he'd be. Now, this was a really big deal to me. I have a load of respect for him. I started following him when he started coaching the Colts. Ben and I have both read his books, and I just got Ben a copy of his latest book, Uncommon. He signed it for us. I tried to act cool and collected, but it didn't happen. I was a starstruck groupie.

If you've made it through this entire post, bless your heart. I'm going to succumb to my Benadryl coma now, and sleep like a unicorn on a cloud.

Have a blessed Friday :)

pinterest challenge.

Way back when, I participated in the YHL/BowerPower Pinterest Challenge (you can find my cheap snowflakes here and my burlap wreath here). I love Pinterest, and I am quite the 'pinner'. I have lofty, lofty goals, and I have good intentions. But most of my 'pins' don't make it past my computer screen. Case in point: my 'fitness' pins. I can pin those "Carrie Underwood Leg Moves" and the "Victoria's Secret Model Workout" like nobody's business. Have I worked those abs or legs yet? Not quite. But it's a nice thought. In fact, it makes me feel more fit by just pinning them. That counts as something, I'm sure.

At any rate, I like to join in on these Pinterest Challenges ever so often, so I can 'put some pins into practice' and make something. I've got a dear friend who is due to give birth any second now, so I knew I wanted to make something personal for her for my challenge. I decided on making some personalized wooden blocks for her son's nursery. Here is my pinspiration:

via

My best friend made me a set of these wooden blocks for PB's nursery, and I loved them! I'd never seen them before. They were so adorable, and matched his room perfectly. I love the flexibility of these blocks. You could make them for any occasion or any room. And, they were really easy to make! That's always a plus.

I did not take any pictures of the step-by-step process this time. Heck, I barely had time to make it. I've got a 2 year-old who doesn't think we should do anything but play outside (and I am perfectly okay with that). But I will tell ya' what I did.

First, I scouted out a good 2x4 piece of wood. I looked for a piece with minimal cracking and flaws. Then, I sawed off several 2 inch blocks. I alternated the height of the blocks as well. I used my new table saw (just because I had an excuse to use it), but this would have easily been a job for a regular Skil saw. After that, I wiped the blocks clean and let them dry. I had an older piece of wood I swiped from the barn, so this was a necessary step for me. Then, I used some acrylic paint and painted each block. I alternated the colors. I used three colors to match my friend's nursery. I applied two coats of paint, and then let them dry. After each coat and block dried, I traced (in pencil) the letters for the block. Then I painted over each letter. Finally, I gave a rough sand to the corners and ends of each block for a distressed/weathered look. Once I had cut the blocks (which didn't take long), this was a 'naptime' project, meaning it was easy enough and quick enough to get finished during PB's naptime. That's life now- project feasibility is based on nap duration :)

The blocks matched my friend's nursery colors perfectly. They look so sweet sitting on her elephant shelf. I also painted several of the letters differently on both sides, that way she could switch out the look if she wanted (I used lowercase and uppercase A and O).

Have you finished any Pinterest projects lately? Do you find yourself (like me) as a habitual pinner, yet have trouble making 'good' on any pin? Do you pin workouts as you eat ice cream?!?! Tell me I'm not alone!

Have a blessed Wednesday :)

some news.

I have some exciting news.

We're pumped.

And no, I'm not pregnant (MOM).

We are in the very early stages of building a house!

EEEEEEEEEK!!!

Ben and I have always planned to build a house together. When we first got married and moved into our current fixer-upper, we said we'd be here 2 years, tops. And then reality hit. And by reality I mean bills. So we said we'd wait until we felt comfortable with the idea of building or until we ran out of room in our current living situation.

And we have arrived.

About 5 months ago when Ben and I were thinking of adding to our family, we started assessing our living situation. We live in a two bedroom house. And PB's bedroom is really small. We also have ONE closet. Yep. One closet in the entire house. And currently, that closet houses my clothes, Ben's clothes, our shoes, and lots of PB's clothes/shoes/blankets/accessories. We also have only two interior doors in the house. Yes, two doors. One in our bathroom and one that separates PB's room from our room. We have a 'painter's drop cloth' curtain for our door, and PB has no door on the front of his room. His room, coincidentally, is just on the other side of our closet. And in a tiny house like ours, his room is essentially 'in' our closet. So when he makes even the slightest peep, Ben and I wake up. With no doors in the house, the sound carries too well.

So why don't you just put doors on your rooms?

That sounds simple enough, but the major problem we have is that we have no central heat or air (no heat pump). For air, we have two window units. And for heat, we have a gas log fireplace. In order for the heat/air to circulate throughout the house, we have to keep the doorways open. If we shut (or installed) doors, someone would freeze to death. We already have a small heater in PB's room to supplement the gas logs, since his room is further away from the fireplace. We keep that running, along with our fireplace and I still worry about the temperature in his room.

So when we found out we were pregnant in November, we immediately started panicking about our living situation. We would obviously need to keep the new baby in our room for a while, but what would happen when that baby was ready for a crib? PB's room is SO small, there really wouldn't be any room to put a crib and a baby bed in the room, along with the drawers we MUST have since PB doesn't have a closet. We then thought about putting the crib in our room. We could do it, but nobody in our house would sleep. EVER. Since we've got the door/heat problem, we'd have to keep the closet door to PB's room open (like we already do). That would be the equivalent of having two parents, a toddler, and a newborn in the same room. Any cry or peep made would wake the whole house. Plus our storage is already out of control (who knew babies needed so much?), and with one more, I can't imagine what we'd do. So we felt like the time was right to look into building.

And then I had my miscarriage. Gosh, that still seems like only yesterday.

We stopped talking about a house for a while after that. We needed time to heal and focus on our family.

And then about two months ago, we reevaluated our housing situation. We know we want to build. The only question was 'when'. We realized when we were planning for our second baby that our house would be at capacity soon. It would only be a matter of time. We need more space. Lord willing, we would like to grow our family. And when that time comes, we want to be prepared. Financially, we finally feel comfortable to build. Do we have the money to build a house right now? Well, no. We don't have that amount of cash in our pocket or in the bank. But would we ever have 'enough'? If we waited until we actually had the money to pay for our house, PB would be almost grown. I want him to be able to enjoy his home. So after several months of crunching numbers and analyzing bills and potential payments, we finally felt comfortable with the thought of building.

My parents have so graciously given us land to build on. The land is only a mile from where we live now, and it's at the end of the road we currently live on. We just had it surveyed a couple of weeks ago.... two beautiful, secluded acres, with a great view and a nice yard. We just got our septic and well permit, and will (hopefully) get our deed this week.

standing in our front yard with 282174 dogs.

I had no idea that building a house would be such an enormous job. There has been so many little things (and expenses) I would have never thought about. There's also too many decisions to make! We've got a floor plan that we like. We are leaning towards doing a modular home. We found a 'site-built' plan that we liked and we 'modularized' it. We haven't etched it in stone yet, so I'll wait to share.

I hope to document this journey as much as I can. We are so excited, and I hope to share more 'happy house' news soon!

Have a blessed Monday :)

off-days.

I can't even begin to describe how thankful I am for my new work schedule. Due to our fair share of flooding and snow, I've really not found my groove yet. Ben has had several 'snow days' on my off days, but for the few days PB and I have been on our own, we've certainly made the most of it. Here's a glimpse of our days.......

Eclairs, dangit! This was the 4th time I tried the recipe. They were good. I don't love eclairs, but for some reason I was heck-bent on making some. I may share the recipe, I can't tell if it's a keeper yet.

That's my apron. I never wear it. I always forget to, and most times, the clothes I cook in need to be ruined. But for some reason, I really dig it on my off-days. It makes me feel all 'home-make-ry'.

That's typically what the kitchen looks like at the end of the day. Scratch that. That's actually better than what it usually looks like. I've been using nap time to try out some Pinterest recipes, among other things. And by 'other things', I mean watching soaps, eating ice cream, and pinning new 'workout' ideas. I love to pin different workouts on Pinterest. I don't actually do the workouts, but it's the thought that counts. I've got good intentions!

Guilty as charged. I get in my son's crib after he wakes up from a nap and we snuggle. And I ain't gonna apologize for it. It's one of my favorite parts of the day.

Potty training. Said NO ONE ever. That's right. I've done everything I can think of, took every piece of advice, and nothing has worked yet. So in the mean time, we take bear to the potty. And PB does a great job of wiping him and flushing him. I guess that's better than nothing.

Did you know there are bears in my closet? Neither did I. But, according to PB, there are bears. Multiple bears. And we are on a daily mission to hunt for them. Notice the ghetto holster. Yep, this is life with a little boy.

What I'm not doing on my off days is blogging, cleaning house, and bathing...just kidding on that last part....kinda. And right now, I'm totally cool with that. I'm sure I'll appreciate a little more structure and routine later, because I'm a routine-kinda-gal. But for now, this is good. He is growing up way too fast, and pretty soon, he'll figure out there are no bears in my closet, and he'll want privacy in the bathroom. WAHH! I'm holding on as tight as I can.

Have a blessed Tuesday :)

giving birth to anxiety.

A couple of days ago, I was reading Stephanie's blog, and came across a post that literally made me laugh out loud, and do some thinking. Stephanie, a sweet, sweet blogging friend of mine is a new(er) mom to Allie, who is just about the cutest thing I've seen, with the juiciest cheeks. Anyway, in her post, 'A Mother's Intuition', she talks very lightheartedly about the dreaded anxiety that comes along with motherhood. She mentions deciding to walk to the grocery store and in turn, picturing several different scenarios in her mind. In one of them, she imagines herself having a seizure while pushing her 5 month old, wherein the stroller goes out into traffic and is hit by an oncoming car. I literally laughed out loud when I read that. And not because I think a scenario like that is funny, because it's not (and neither does Steph). Nor do I think seizures are a laughing matter, because they're not. What I do find funny, however, is the fact that she imagined, in her words, these 'absolutely impossible, yet highly likely' scenarios happening to her. You wanna know why?

Because I do that ALL THE TIME.

From the very first day I found out I was pregnant with PB, I read all of the books I could about pregnancy. I avoided caffeine like the plague. I heated my turkey sandwiches. I axed baths. I didn't raise my hands above my head. I put myself into a state of sheer panic about anything and everything I did while I was pregnant.

fishing, very carefullyv(!) , at 7 months pregnant

And then about 6 months into pregnancy, I guess I realized how irrational I had become and how fear and anxiety had taken over my mind and body. My blood pressure was getting a little high around that time and I figured I need to chill out. So I prayed. And prayed. And prayed a little more, and God's peace surrounded me during the last few weeks and I didn't worry nearly as much as I had before. I thought all was good. I worried so much during pregnancy about my unborn baby and delivery, that I couldn't wait to hold him in my arms. Then, I wouldn't worry any more because my baby was here happy and healthy. And my worry and anxiety would just up and leave when we checked out of the hospital. Yep. That's what would happen.

Wrong.

I gave birth to anxiety.

Yes, right there in the delivery room. I thought that the birth of my sweet, healthy baby boy would be the end of that epic anxiety I had felt during pregnancy. I thought that having him in my arms would ease the worry I had felt about him. And I really couldn't have been more wrong. I really feel like I gave birth to a lifetime full of anxiety.

I messaged Stephanie and told her I could totally relate. She put into words my exact thoughts from these past 2 years. I imagine these impossibly crazy thoughts in my head and yet feel fairly certain they could happen.

An example: I remember the first outing I had with PB by myself.  I think I actually took him to the Target. We had been couped up in the house for a while, and I felt like we were ready to venture out on our own, sans dad, or grandparents. Just us. I did pretty well on the ride over, and even initially while we were in the store. But after about 15 minutes in the store, I started panicking. Like a clammy, heart-racing, sweaty, panic. What if he fell out of the buggy (aka shopping cart)? What if someone came and swiped him straight from my hands? What if I passed out cold and woke to a missing baby? What if, what if, WHAT IF?!

And now two years later, what I thought was 'new mom anxiety', seems to be more like 'lifetime mom anxiety'.

He sneezes. He's caught the bubonic plague.

He's tired. He's got some debilitating disease.

He farts. He's got a life-threatening stomach parasite.

And you know, the scary thing is I consider myself to be fairly laid back when it comes to parenting. I don't really think of myself as 'over-protective'. But I tend to let these unthinkable, worse case-scenarios consume my thoughts.

So how do you get rid of it? How do you relax, and free your mind of all the worry for your child?

Well, I'm not so sure you do get rid of it. At least all of it. I think some of it is a 'mother's nature'. I mean for Pete's sake, we carry this little life in our body for 9 months. We become quite attached and fiercely loyal. I think some of it is our instinct to be protective and to be on our toes at all times. And quite frankly, I think it's our job to worry, just a little.

The problem comes, though, when we let that worry consume us. And I have been guilty of this many times. In fact, just last week I had one of my "moments". I managed to convince myself that PB had bacterial meningitis after he twisted his neck in an awkward position while at home with Ben. I insisted they go to the doctor, and I practically laid in my office in the fetal position,  sweating to death and making numerous trips to the bathroom, until I heard the all-clear from the doc.

It's crazy. I know.

It's irrational. I know.

I do let it that worry consume me sometimes. I panic, and allow doubts and negativity to creep in. And when that starts to happen, I try to stop what I'm doing and pray. I remind myself that these thoughts are not from God, and God made me for more than worry and anxiety. And I ultimately remind myself that God is in control of His childrens' lives. And PB is a child of God. No amount of worry or stress can change any outcome for the positive. I try to imagine myself simply resting in His arms. Sometimes, that's all I feel like I can do. Just rest and trust in Him. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I cannot make it on the journey through motherhood without Him.

I imagine that I'll be dealing with this until the day I'm gone. I know I will always worry about him. I mean for cryin' out loud, ain't nobody gonna take care of that boy like his mama does (remember that, potential girlfriends). I just need to make sure that I keep that worry in check and keep it from consuming me by constantly reminding myself that WE are His children, and He is in control. No amount of worry can change the outcome. Or His love for us.

Are you guilty of letting your worry for your kiddos consume you? How about worry, in general? What are your tips to keep it at bay?

Have a blessed Monday :)