Dear Daughter: You Are More than Locker Room Talk

Reese, 

You are beautiful, Darling. But that isn't all. Your gorgeous curly, naturally highlighted hair, it falls softly around your sweet face. You have the prettiest hazel eyes that are so big and round, expression and emotion just oozes out of them whenever you look at anyone. But these things don't define you. It isn't simply your natural beauty that makes you lovable or that draws people to your personality. And I pray that you will grow up in a world that believes this to be true of all women. Not just of you. 

I hope to God that you won't be raised in a world where your leadership thinks that you will only move up the ladder of success because of the way you look. Darling, you are an Adventurer. You hike trails and run down their hills and often you fall down. You may cry momentarily but you always get right back up and keep on running. What you want, you go for and what you go for, you get. 
 

You are daring and so incredibly smart. You know every single word of Fight Song and I thank God often that you have an amazingly supportive uncle who thought of you and I one day when he had heard it. "Listen to Fight Song," he said. "I really believe it's yours and Reese's song." That's the kind of leader that I hope will believe in not just us, but all women. "You might only have one match but you can make an explosion. This IS your fight song. You ARE alright. Your power is on, you are strong, your Fight Song is playing. And even if no one else believes, you have a fight to be heard." Those song lyrics were written for you, Baby Girl. And I am praying diligently that you won't grow up in a world, in a country, a FREE country, that screams at you otherwise.

 Oh young daughter of mine, someday, YOU might decide to get married and have your own babies, but I want you to know that you weren't created to ever be LESS than your husband. You'll change lots of diapers, but that won't be your job. And I hope that America won't be preaching from our pulpit that those are the types of things that women are supposed to do. And on that note, I hope that we aren't being led by someone who is repulsed by all things breastfeeding; who has actually called females "disgusting" for needing to pump while at work to provide for their babies. Reese, you are strong and capable--you can have a baby or not have a baby, but don't ever let the world, our world, take your voice away from you. 

No matter how loud the moron, no matter how big hatred and bigotry grows, I hope YOU know how truly breathtaking you are. I hope that YOU can be sure of yourself, and that you will believe how great YOU are. No matter WHAT the world throws at you throughout these next many years, may the Universe always marvel at your magnificence. 

You are far more than locker room talk.

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