on making time to write.

I am currently drinking coffee and (accidentally) eating a couple pieces of the candy I bought yesterday for the Trick-or-Treaters tomorrow. Muffled light seeps into the kitchen from the laundry room - every other light is off downstairs. And even though I feel like I would rather be in bed snoozing during this (usually small) window of time when both of my children are asleep for nap time, I am writing.

It's so easy to scroll Instagram in these moments, isn't it? To escape out of our own lives for a bit, to see what others are up to, to see what leggings and boots and coats our favorite "influencers" are pushing. To watch story after story after story.

I get it, I really do. But I have to make a change.

I used to have a lot of time to devote to reading and writing. It was one of the main things I did each day, and looking back on it now, I know that is because reading and writing bring me a joy that is life-enhancing. Give me a well-worn library book, give me the latest issue (or perhaps an unread issue from months back, as is the case lately), give me a notebook open to a fresh page alongside a pen, give me an open laptop. These are my people.

I noticed a large shift when I went to grad school. And then another large shift when my first child was born. And then another shift when my second child was born. The common denominator in all of these scenarios? Less time.

A long time ago, one of my favorite YouTubers said that once she had her daughter, it taught her invaluable time management skills. Being pre-child at that time myself, I was like, "Yeah, ok, whatever. Having a kid really can't be that time consuming, you're just doing your normal life with someone in tow."

Let me just go ahead and say that is inaccurate, and let me just go ahead and insert my foot into my mouth.

Life is changed by having children. Priorities shift wildly. Hobbies and interests that are not iron clad are thrown to the wind. There is the birth of the child, yes, but there is also the birth of you after that child. A rebirth. You become new, and your new self has different responsibilities, and even though it sounds trite, it is enormous in a way that is unimaginable before you find yourself in these exhausting-challenging-rewarding-glorious trenches.

My children have absolutely taught me an encyclopedia-set-sized amount on time management. I have succeeded some days, I have failed miserably other days. Sometimes I don't brush my teeth until after lunch. Sometimes (like today) I wear pajamas all day, even though there is someone coming over to my house. Sometimes tears are shed (by both parties) when one of my children refuses to nap. But sometimes, I throw things into a crock pot and let dinner simmer all day long, filling the house with delicious, comforting aromas. Sometimes I fold all of the laundry and even put it away. Sometimes - sometimes, but not often enough - I sit down to read and write.

I am so happy that is how I chose to spend this gloomy, drizzly nap time today. Sipping coffee, tapping the laptop keyboard, letting the thoughts flow. Thank you.

from the floor of a bedroom, part two.

Good morning from Lake Norman. 

Yesterday, Justin, the boys, & I went out for Saturday morning coffee. When it was time to return home, we decided to just keep driving, & this is where we ended up. It has afforded us an impromptu visit with family, as well as a respite from daily life in our own little bubble. 

Life lately has consisted of adhering to nap times, drinking inordinate amounts of coffee, having hummus & crackers with my two-and-a-half-year-old, & trying to squeeze in some sleep here & there. We are currently making our way through the four month sleep regression. I phrase it in that way because I truly believe that this particular developmental milestone demands that you simply survive. Sure, I've read the books, I follow the sleep experts on Instagram (and watch their stories religiously)... but somehow, we are still met with a bit of a challenge in this department right now. 

I won't sugar coat it - it's hard. And unfortunately, I am one of those particular individuals who are grumpy when they lack sleep. 

But, it won't last forever, and we will persevere. 

I'm making it sound far too dramatic, but that's what happens on little sleep & a lot of coffee. 

I was chatting with a friend yesterday via text, and she remarked that maybe, one day, we would look back on this time in our lives and miss it. 

I replied that I thought we certainly would. After all, despite the challenges of our daily lives, there is an overarching tone of joy, of purpose. From moment to moment, hour to hour, I find myself already missing it. The whole-face smile of a four month old baby, the stories told by a nearly-three-year-old, punctuated by the question, "Ee-mem-er?" On two hours' sleep or twelve, nothing could be sweeter, nothing could be more significant. 

small kindnesses.

Last night, Luke and I met Justin for dinner at a little Italian restaurant around the corner from our house. We had only been there once before, but I had really loved it and had anticipated going back. 

When we walked in, I was struck again with the little joys of this place: green and white penny tile flooring, the glow of tea lights, and these white and pink roses, dotted with cranberries. 

As we sat down and got settled, I took my phone out and snapped a quick photo, as you see above. As I was doing so, the waitress swept over and greeted us, began asking what we would like to drink. Slightly embarrassed at being caught doing something so vaguely rude and touristy as photographing flowers in a restaurant, I quickly slipped my phone away and stammered an awkward hello (it's true - and I have the "live photo" evidence to prove it). 

Rather than be annoyed at yet another person tinkering with their phone at the dinner table, the waitress smiled and asked, "Are you taking photos of my flowers?" Relieved that I wasn't being quietly chided for this minor faux pas, I admitted that yes, I was, and that they were beautiful, launching us into a polite, light-hearted discussion about flowers. Frivolous? Yes. Refreshing? Also yes.

The night was punctuated by a lady who had been dining with her husband, approaching our table to tell us the following: "What a good baby. He was a delight to watch at dinner. Was that him singing?" 

Anyone who has dined out with a toddler knows that things aren't always predictable. Sometimes there's shrieking. Sometimes there's crying. Sometimes there are loud outbursts of talking. Sometimes there is the throwing of any number of table-top objects. Luke is, usually, relatively good at the dinner table, since he loves to eat and socialize. He hadn't been perfect at this dinner (really, what child ever is?), but I had counted it as a success, because he had devoured the manicotti, drunk plenty of water, and had, in fact, been singing (at a polite volume). 

But for a stranger to approach your dinner table, simply to sing your child's well-mannered praises? Well, that is something very special indeed. A small act of kindness, which definitely does not go unnoticed. 

And as the lady walked away, I smiled and said to Justin, "Really, there is no higher praise than that." I am thankful for the kind of dinner we had last night, because to me, it's the small kindnesses that sometimes make the biggest difference.  

blogging in twenty-eighteen.

Back in December, this kind girl right here commented on one of my Instagram posts (see above). 

She asked if I planned to start writing again in 2018, and to be completely honest, I hadn't even given it much of a thought until her question. And believe me - I'm glad, so glad, that she asked. 

Sometimes, I find, even when I love to do something, miss doing something - it takes an extra external push to have the courage to jump in with both feet. It is often at the prompting of friends, the asking of family, that I press on, keep at it, remember to make time for writing. And when other external forces inadvertently work to quell that desire to write, it becomes more difficult to put energy into it.

First, OT school happened, which took almost all of my mental energy. Then, I became a mom - one of the biggest changes and challenges and joys in my life - and that took all of my mental, physical, and emotional energy. Then, I graduated OT school, and a few months later, started working, and that took up quite a bit of all of those energies also.

It's no wonder that I was absent from one of my most loved hobbies - even though I continually missed it. In addition to the things I mentioned above, I was also happily trucking along with everyday life, keeping up with family, friends, figuring out how to manage my household (still working on that one)... etc. I've been settling into myself, and it has taken some time.

All of this to say... I hope to write more here this year. I've been thinking up some series to start doing, possibly falling back on some older series, and really, just planning on opening up my browser and typing more often, whatever it may be about.

Here's to the joy of blogging, of sharing. Thank you, Emily. 

hello again.

I miss this space.

I created a new blog, have written on it spottily over the last few months, and still, I am drawn back here.

That means something, right?

There's something about blogging that makes me value and celebrate and experience joyfully all that goes on in my life. Why should I stop?

It's kind of like exercising. Every time I start, I can't believe how amazing it feels and why I ever stopped doing it. But, it takes time and effort, and when those commodities are running low, I feel forced to cut "non-essentials," and that is how I get to the point of not blogging, and, similarly, not exercising.

Since becoming a mother, I have read a lot about continuing "self care" and everything associated with that. I'd be lying if I said that this isn't something I've struggled with. However, a quote that really resonates with me is the following: "You can't pour from an empty cup. Take care of yourself first."  A quick Google search did not produce the author of this quote, but I find myself thinking of these words often.

Luke is 5 months old now, but I am still struggling to adhere to any kind of routine for myself. Showering, fixing my hair, getting dressed, and putting on makeup, among other self care activities, often fall to the wayside as I attend to his needs. I know that there has to be a way to have both, but I haven't found the magic time management recipe yet.

I figure I've just got to keep trying. If I keep these things at the forefront of my mind, eventually I will figure it out, right? I will say that the experience of becoming a parent has led me to respect parents who have it all together so much (and parents that don't have it all together). This is a big job, taking care of a human being. And right now, all I'm doing is the best I can. And that is enough.