Smile! [An Honest "Mom Life" Review for Smile Brilliant]

My Grandma started me on coffee YOUNG... like seriously, I'm pretty sure I was five when I fell in love with it. I've always been a 'one cup a day' gal, until mom life hit, and boy did it hit HARD. I went from drinking one cup of coffee a day to, well, several... Two babies fifteen months apart from each other, so duh! Tired has been my middle name for over three years now and though it was starting to show on my once pretty white teeth, I really didn't feel like I had the time or energy (or money!) to keep using regular whitening strips. Plus, I never liked the feel or texture of them on my teeth and gums. So, it all kind of slipped my mind for a while until BOOM! Smile Brilliant reached out to me. 

This company has completely changed my at-home whitening game and the getting started process was SO easy. They offered me a custom whitening tray to fit my teeth [goodbye, sliding- all-over- strips!], and once I got my pair in the mail, I was pumped to give this system a try. 

I just filled my molds with the Whitening Gel and the first couple of days, just left it on for thirty minutes. Then I rinsed and did the Desensitizing Gel for fifteen minutes to help re-hydrate my mouth. I brushed my teeth and seriously within two sessions, my teeth were SO much whiter! [It's up to the user, you can leave these trays on for thirty minutes for up to two hours should you choose, I have done forty-five minutes three days a week [for three weeks] and am absolutely thrilled with my results. Especially if you have sensitive gums, just use the Desensitizing Gel immediately following whitening; I never experienced any soreness or sensitivity after my sessions, probably huge thanks to this. 

It really was as simple as filling the trays with the Gel, and I usually did this at night after the kiddos went down for bed. I can sit at my desk and edit photos or write without being bothered by the trays at all. I usually set a timer and then applied the Desensitizing Gel and I was good for the night!

I really believe that this Smile Brilliant system is so much more effective (cost and time wise) than any other whitening system and it's WAY less expensive than going to the Dentist! Prior to Smile Brilliant, a custom fitting tray was only available at the Dentist and those are on average, 500 plus dollars! Moms or NOT, there's no way this will disappoint you. This kit appeals to ANY coffee drinker, wine lover, whiter-teeth seeker, period.

If you want some more facts and other peoples' reviews, check out Smile Brilliant's Review Page. You can also watch a video on how the whole thing works HERE.

And lucky for YOU, I'm hosting a giveaway for one lucky reader. The prize is a $139.95 store credit which is equal to the Teeth Whitening Trays + 3 Whitening Gel syringes and 3 Desensitizing Gel syringes. OR the Teeth Whitening Trays + 6 Whitening Gel syringes. Make sure you enter for this AMAZING deal so you can get started ASAP! (Click HERE!)

Thanks so much, Smile Brilliant, for sponsoring this post and for the truly awesome whitening kit! 
 

Let Go

The moment you as a mother realize that your child is really and truly no longer a baby, well, that's not anything that you can plan for. You don't know when or where or how it will dawn on you, until it does; a gust of wind escapes your lungs and you are suddenly made aware.

We tried to get pregnant for a few months and we were very blessed that the timing with our son was perfectly spot on. The faint blue lines, the ones that made me ask my sister-in-law to please come over and check for me, those little sign told me, "You are going to be a mother." For nine months I watched my belly grow, I felt the kicks and squirms and sharp elbow jabs deep in my rib cage. I saw him somersault and hiccup and while he was tucked inside my ever-growing stomach, I had no idea that someday he would say to me, "Mom, let go!" 

Towards the end, if he stopped moving or was quiet late at night, I would anxiously wake my husband and ask him to please pray aloud that God would give me a sign that our baby was okay. It always worked and within seconds, our dear boy would move or roll over again, probably thinking, "Would you people leave me ALONE?"

From the very beginning, my heart was his. Crawling and the first steps, the first taste of solid food, the baby giggles that turned to laughter, the one word phrases that made us smile so big... I never realized that during those growth spurts, those stages of transitioning from baby to boy, my heart would just keep expanding. And that suddenly, the wind would be knocked out of my chest as he jumped into the in-ground pool, without a life vest, as he shouted, "Do it again!" As quickly as it started, those baby years and all the things that come with them, it suddenly ended--

those baby years.  

Over. Gone. A flash before my eyes. A faint dream that grasps for the memories and moments when he needed me the most. 

Who is this kid? And how did it happen? My hands frantically reached for him under the water, quickly I pulled him up for air thinking that of course, he would need it. But he didn't. He didn't need me and what I thought was him choking was actually just laughter. "Mom, let go!" he exclaimed as he swam one end to the other, down and back, doggy paddling around and around and around--

without me. 

I remember the first time he got into a pool. He was a month old and he just slept, totally peacefully, as we slowly pushed him around on a float. And then when he got in my parents pool, and he would wrap his arms around my neck as I sang him songs. From zero, to one, to two, to three, and now to four. His legs are getting so long, his length makes up more than half of me. His weight is hard for me to lift from his carseat, it's getting more difficult to carry him up the stairs. My hips that carried him with ease for so long, are quickly reminding me that it won't be much longer that he will fit there.

Everyone tells you that it happens so fast but when you're in the trenches of motherhood, tired and going on very little sleep, when they're still so tiny in front of you, all you think is, "Shut it, Lady. I'm embracing it the best that I can." Or at least, I suppose that's what I always used to think, when elderly people walked past my screaming toddlers as I sprinted through aisles at the grocery store. 

His daddy is 6'4'' and with me only 5'2,'' it's very obvious my son (and probably daughter) will tower over me very soon. So right now, while he still [awkwardly] fits on my hip and he still begs for me each night to put him to bed, I will embrace these days. Even if he doesn't want his mama to carry him like a baby around his grandparents swimming pool, at least he does still want me to stand on the sideline cheering, "Good BOY! Great job!" as he makes that giant splash. While I'm positive there will many more opportunities for him to declare his independence, my heart will never ever, no matter what, be letting go. 

Loving Your Imperfect Life

One of my very favorite past times is walking around quaint neighborhoods with my husband and daydream about the pretty houses that we pass. This was something we did often while we dated, and one time I even went as far as ringing a dear old lady's doorbell at 9 o'clock at night to tell her that I just loved her house. It was a dare that my husband didn't think I would do [can you tell how wild and rebellious we were?] and while I may have terrified the sweet woman, it's a funny memory that we still joke about today.

There's this one street in particular that I drive down on my way to and from work. The houses are all very large with massive, beautiful windows. Many have wide front porches and early in the mornings, the soft glow of lamplight shines through. I envision moms in their soft plush bathrobes cooking breakfast, dads drinking their coffee and their kids plopping down joyfully at the large kitchen table next to them. Maybe it's warm French-toast, topped with decadent cool-whip and covered with fresh, juicy strawberries. I bet the kids don't bicker, and they all quietly chatter about their day ahead. Lunches packed, kisses exchanged, everyone probably leaves feeling so carefree and positive.

Ever since I was a kid, I have enjoyed walking past homes and studying everything about them. The types of windows, the large wooden doors, yard or no yard, one story or two--what is everyone doing behind these beautiful walls and is their lives as perfect as their residence? Fun Fact: I grew up in the country and I have this very random memory of being obsessed with binoculars. I had a tiny notebook I would take outside along with them and I'd plop down on our trampoline. Well, considering the closest neighbor to the back of us was my Grandma, who was still an acre away, it's obvious that I didn't ever SEE much. I don't think it lasted very long (duh, how BORING?!) but I'd jot down, "Nothing going on at Grandma's today," or, "Aunt Dawn and Uncle Time aren't home from work yet, not much happening" (they also lived across the field.) I suppose this means I'm a born people watcher and because I never had too many people to WATCH, city life has kind of amazed me!

The truth is, just like you can't see behind my four walls, I can't see into yours. The small frames on Instagram don't even give a sliver of reality for what the first five minutes of our mornings look like, let alone sound like. The beautiful photo of my kids hugging lasted for three seconds and shortly after they were snapping at each other for something completely irrational. My office space in our dining room is just about the only consistently tidy nook that we have, and that's because it's used once or twice a day. The truth is, I despise mornings and because of that, waking up with a joyful and positive heart is always a battle for me. When the kids wake us before they're supposed to, internally I'm usually spewing and huffing and puffing. I'm easily overwhelmed, in both my classroom and home, and it's very hard for me to just 'go with the flow.' Yesterday my daughter, while she was supposed to be dumping the mini potty bowl in to the big toilet, (something I thought she could handle), instead smeared said potty bowl remnants all over the toilet and floor. I do NOT even know how this happened, nor do I really want to, but that was a good fifteen minutes of my reality. (#momlife?)

Does cleaning up poop sound like perfection?

Obviously not, but I want to take a second and focus on that word, perfect:

having no mistakes or flaws;
completely correct or accurate;
having all the qualities you want in that person, situation, etc.

Our inner critic is one who tells us that we don't have it good enough. We aren't pretty enough, smart enough, wealthy enough, or just enough--period. Your kids are better than mine because they're more spaced out; surely they don't fight, and oh yes, they're the best of friends. Your house is better than mine. It's bigger, the yard is better, you keep it cleaner, it smells better, it IS better. But what if we stopped for a second when we begin to hear these nagging lies? What if we thought about what it is our hearts are coveting and then look our life straight in the face with confidence about where we are and what we DO have? Instead of thinking, "My daughter should have been able to dump her poop into the big potty without any incidence," I could have just acknowledged it for what it was: "Maybe I should have moved MY butt and taken the bowl from her, maybe I was just being lazy."

That's kind of a trivial example. But I think we all have these expectations for ourselves, our spouses, our kids, our friends and co-workers--and what really, is the point? My 4-year old isn't the same as yours. You and I could have the same exact degree but we probably teach completely differently. My convictions are different from yours. And honestly, our visions, dreams, hopes and goals are vastly diverse, no matter how similar we may feel to one another!

I didn't enjoy cleaning the bathroom, but I'm thankful for a daughter who tried to be independent. I can't stand it when they fight, but I'm grateful my kids have each other. Sometimes my husband and I argue, but I love the heck out of him and I'm glad God chose ME to be his wife. I'm homesick often, but how thankful I am for a reliable vehicle and that six hours just really isn't THAT far when I want to go visit. My job is incredibly hard and as a teacher I don't ever get to "leave work at work," but I'm thankful to meet so many diverse children and no matter what, be changed by them. We feel we've outgrown our house, but it's where we brought our babies home and where ALL of our memories exist--I'll forever cherish the years spent there.

I could go on. But I know that you too are thinking of ways you ARE grateful for the imperfections in your life. And truth be told, I don't actually think everyone else's lives are more perfect than mine; I don't despise our house or neighborhood or my close in age children. But I am guilty of comparison and I encourage you today to stand against it WITH me. Together as a people we are so blessed, poopy toilets and messes and all.

"Understanding the difference between healthy striving and perfectionism is critical to laying down the shield and picking up your life. Research shows that perfectionism hampers success. In fact, it's often the path to depression, anxiety, addiction, and life paralysis.” -Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection

When Moms Cry

I always say that after a woman is done having babies, she shouldn't have to go through all of the crazy hormonal junk that we do. Like the random highs and lows, the emotional turmoil, the headaches, the cramps, the mood swings. [I'm also betting that men wish the same for the women in their lives, right? Because frankly, it's no fun for anyone.]

But here we are, I imagine I'll be having mood swings for the next sixty some years and today I just kind of fell apart. Not kind of though. I really did fall apart. 

My husband let me sleep in this morning, meaning he was awake two whole hours with them before I rolled out of bed. So whenever this happens [and it happens once every weekend], I have this irrational feeling that I should be happy and thankful and that nothing should get me down because voila and kazam, Mama had a little more sleep. In reality, by minute FIVE, I'm ready to run back up the stairs and hide under the covers because the noisiness and bickering just bring me DOWN. 

This morning wasn't really all that bad. The kids begged to play in the rain and we actually let them. But then that meant they needed a bath and it never fails that every time they take one, I hear, "Move!" "Go to YOUR side!" "STOP!" "NOOOOOO!" coming from each of their mouths almost the entire time. And every time, I threaten that they just won't take baths together anymore but then that never happens because who has time to bathe two kids separately? [What am I going to do when they're too old to do this?? Will they shower? #seriouslypanicking]

So I lost my temper. I don't have an in-between voice, I am either soft spoken, or I yell. [I desperately need to work on this, I know.] My son started to cry, and then my daughter, and both were shrieking at the top of their lungs that they wanted to get out. Enter me feeling like a giant failure #5 by that point and I had been awake a whopping what, hour?! 

Then my husband leaves to watch a football game and I think, "I've got this. It's almost lunch time, I think we'll bake some cookies. This will be fun." And in reality, baking with a three and four-year old is really, really, really stressful, especially when you are on the verge of a really bad sinus headache, you've only had half a cup of lukewarm coffee, and you're just wishing that you were a born Superwoman. But you're not. 

So I keep telling my daughter to please go finish her lunch and THEN she can help Mommy with the baking. And she folds her arms, furrows her brow and in a giant huff says, "Mom! I'm SO mad about [at] you right now!" First, when did she learn that? YouTube? I mean seriously, she's three going on ten apparently. I explain the necessity behind her eating lunch and ultimately decide fine, she can eat it ON the kitchen counter WHILE we mix these cookies and during all of that, I hear myself: 

"Stop trying to smash the butter. It still needs to be opened and softened, just leave it ALONE." 
"Do NOT lick the whisk!" 
"No, you cannot be in charge of pouring the nutmeg in, I have to measure it first." 
"Don't kick your brother." 
"Not high speed, LOW speed. Just stop pressing buttons please." 

Nap time rolls around. It's not usually that challenging to put both of them down, but today is clearly the exception. I was in and out of their rooms five times each, reminding them to lie down, close their eyes, that they needed to sleep. I felt like all I was doing was threatening them, "No cookie if you don't sleep," or, "You HAVE to stay in your room until your clock turns green." I made my way downstairs, finally, and still had about two more dozen cookies yet to bake. I was regretting my decision to make them altogether, ate a ton of dough, ingested about five cookies instead of fixing myself lunch, and then sat down to look at bills and pay student loans. Before nap time, I thought I would have two full hours to edit pictures from my most recent wedding, drink some tea, and just relax. I even told my husband, "I'm doing laundry but I'll fold it tonight after the kids are in bed because I need to do some work on the computer." Little did I know that looking at money would completely drain me AND that because I forgot like, ALL of my passwords, the whole process would take me all of said "two hours to relax." 

At this point my head was really starting to throb. I found the Excedrin and went to our bed to snuggle with our orange kitten--because when the pets are all cuddled up in bed I always think, "If I could just lay here and close my eyes..." And then I heard my daughter's bedroom barge open. Well she's awake. I thought maybe she could use my phone for a few minutes and I could just rest a little bit more, but then his door opened. We were all together in my giant king sized bed and somehow they managed to not have enough distance from each other. 

We went downstairs and I tried to convince them to eat a snack and watch a show while I find something for lunch. It didn't work, and I hear, "Stop!" "Leave me alone!" "You're being RUDE!" "I'm MAD at you!" I put my head in my hands and as hard as I tried, I couldn't stop the tears from coming. I called the kids to please come to the couch and to sit down so we could talk. My daughter's response, before she noticed that I was upset, was, "I DON'T want to!" [Yes, hello threenager.] 

I tried to choke back the tears but couldn't so I proceeded to tell them why Mama was so upset. I explained that I so badly want them to be friends and to just get along. That it wears Mommy [and Daddy] out when all they do is bicker and fight and scream at each other. That it isn't loving, and that Mommy is just sad today. I told them that I'm missing Mimi and Pa Pa [MY mom and dad] and that I wished we could just drive to their house and hang out for a few hours. That I was tired and hungry and wanted a hot shower but couldn't because I can't trust them.

My son's eyes welled with tears, my daughter said, "Why are you sad, Mommy? Why are you crying?" 

ecause sometimes Mommies are sad, Guys. Just like sometimes you cry and feel emotional, that happens to Mommies too. 

My son took my hand and asked if we could go cuddle in his bunkbed; of course I agreed, and it was the first time all day that there was zero fighting. The three of us smashed in a twin bed and I closed my eyes for ten minutes. My husband got home and came upstairs and the first thing they said was, "Mommy's crying!" I told him that it had just been a rough day, but that now I also felt like a failure for crying in front of my children. 

"They need to know that you're human," he replied. "And if you'll notice now, they are playing nicely together?" 

In this season, I don't get to spend a whole lot of time with women who have young kids. In our last church small group, my husband and I were the only parents and today I realized, I don't really know if my mom friends ever cry in front of their children? I mean, it's not something I want to regularly practice. But today it made me feel like I was doing something wrong. Like I wasn't this Superwoman mom who could just be happy and grateful and fun 24/7--like my little kids shouldn't be exposed to such emotions. 

But I don't think that's the case? Social media can trap us into only seeing square shaped moments of 'perfection,' right? The white walls, the beautiful kitchens, the babies splitting a gut as they're tickled on the bed. The siblings holding hands, husband and wives kissing and embracing, the candles lit and pies baked. I do it too--because I love showing you all the GOOD in my usually messy days. But the messy days are real. And today I'm peeling back the layers and confessing to you that tears were shed by many in my household today, and that I fell apart.

And I also want to tell you that I don't plan on throwing in the towel. I didn't retreat to my bedroom and wallow in utter sadness. I cried, and I missed a lot of people today. I felt like a terrible mom, a lousy wife, and like I could have done a helluva lot better. But I know that tomorrow is a new day. And that my children and husband love me and I love them. 

Tomorrow, I will be human and maybe, being human is perfectly good enough.