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quiet.

12 May

I know it has been around here. Two weeks have gone by since the big celebration, with nary a photograph in sight. I did promise them, and they’re coming in time. Truth is, I want to do the day justice, and I simply haven’t had (made?) the space to make that happen yet. It will bring me great joy to do so very soon–I hope not to disappoint.

If I’m being honest, these past few weeks have just lent themselves more to journaling between the pages of my favorite moleskine than plodding out the components of my days for the blogosphere at large. Maybe someday, but not right now.

So this is just to say that I’m still here, and still wanting to pour myself into things like blogging and sharing and loving life publicly, in the hopes of spurring on others to love life a little more, too.

The beautiful thing about this time of quiet is that I am stacking up 1,001 ideas to share with you at a later juncture. All kinds of things, really, from recipes to outings to party ideas to mama revelations. At the moment, they’re all swirling like a collection of Pinterest boards, cut up into confetti and shaken in a snow globe. I can only hope the result will be as pretty at some point. :)

Rest assured (although it’s been longer than I’d normally like to turn around a report back) that homemade buntings are still hanging about in doorways throughout the house, paper straws still fancy up the china cabinet, and a gigantic, hand-painted Eric Carle scene still graces the living room wall in remembrance of Henry’s 1st birthday bash. We cleaned up all of the cake, but some of the party just had to keep going on a bit longer. Besides, who doesn’t love festive fabric flags coloring up the house in the Springtime?!

A few mini tutorials, lots of photos, and my recap of select favorite moments from the day coming soon…perhaps even before the weekend is out! I can’t stay quiet forever…just for a tad bit more of some much needed time.

love from my corner of the universe,

mm

wordless.

24 Feb

For the first time in a long time, I’m struggling to put words to how I’m feeling–a strange and daunting turn for a girl like me, who clears and de-clutters my mind by putting pen to paper, fingers to keys. When the year began, I had committed to myself to blog once a day in 2012. I didn’t make the goal public, but the internal accountability was enough to keep me going. Until now.

There’s plenty swirling in my head, and I want to say all of it somehow–want to preserve memories from this week that I know will linger long after the days have gone. I’ve been hoping to preserve on a page all that I’m thinking and all that is happening, but it’s as if every single thought is bottle-necking because there are so many all at once…each leaving little room for any of the others to eek their way out, wild and free.

Nothing about this week feels wild and free. It feels personal, delicate, private. It handles like blown glass, beautiful and colorful at first glance, yet fragile, painstaking, malleable under fire and left to solidify at the hand of its maker. I feel as though I am passing it back and forth between my fingers, praying it won’t drop and knowing that at some point, I will have to let it go anyway. How do you let something so beautiful just go?

You don’t. And that’s why I’m out of sorts. Wordless in a sense, for someone who otherwise has so much to say. There isn’t an utterance to do it justice. Maybe someday there will be, but not for now.

My heart is heavy. In the midst of overwhelming graces, perfect moments, gratitude beyond measure, there is a very real and present awareness of what it happening, and you can’t put words to it while it takes shape. In a way, I think you just have to rest in it as best you can and swallow whole the minutes and hours and days as they present themselves–in tiny, beautiful packages prepared for us by a Creator who foreknew the number of hairs on our heads, the days on our calendars, our every breath. Sometimes, embracing each moment as such makes them possible to handle. It does for me.

doing my best to love with reckless abandon while i can, and searching out words in the process,

mm

facelift.

28 Jan

Sometime in 2012, mollymadonna.com is going to get a facelift. It’s time. It’ll be two years in May since I arrived at using WordPress and this theme and all that came with it, and while it’s been good to me, I’m ready for something new. I’ll likely stick with WordPress because I love it, but the rest is going to have to take shape organically, and as the spirit moves.

So, besides regular entries and frequent photos, what do YOU want to see here? I’ve had thoughts about interviews, featured craft projects, how-to posts, reviews–you know the usual fare. But my interests are widespread, and I don’t want to limit myself to any one thing. I DO want consistency and familiarity, encouragement for moms and non-moms alike, helpful information about pregnancy and birth and all that goes with them, and plenty of community for everyone. I have thoughts on design and usability and such, but that will all have to come in time.

I love being here, and it feels important to continue working towards a space that feels like me, like what I love, like a virtual version of home. Blogging isn’t just a chance for me to write, but a chance for me to be real and honest–to reflect on my days and what I’m learning and feeling in every area of who I am. I’m excited about what new changes may come. The year is just beginning, and the future is very bright.

embracing the possibilities,

mm

love for today.

26 Jan

When I need little reminders of joy, they are everywhere I look. And I am humbled over and over. Thank you for being joy…

BTA: for more than i could ever write in a blog post. for being constant. for always picking up where we leave off. for phone calls on the drive home. for so. much. love.

(R)BW: for photo sessions with our littles (I still owe you pictures), kindred blogging, kindred lives. for four-legged friends and a worthwhile commute.

AdR: for chats about being mamas to boys over coffee, for pups, for fashion inspiration, for friendship crafted over radio spots and marketing meetings.

BWB: for lunch dates and pregnancy conversations, hearts after God and the written word, crafts and craftiness and your amazing ability to find me when i need to be found. and for dinosaurs.

JLR: for history. for wisdom and friendship and prayer and openness that withstands all tests of time and distance. for doing life, and for witnessing life at its very beginning.

KTB(D): for ruby slippers and choreography and a love of everything literary. for travels to coastlines and shorelines, and for poems we understand without saying a word.

LZ: for sparkle, both the kind you feel and the kind you wear. for generosity of spirit, for encouragement, and for adventure. (and birthdays, of course.)

LH & NJ: for loving our little family like your own. for prayers, guidance, reassurance, countless blessings, time, nourishment in so many ways.

AT: for fridays. for target dates. for raising boys in a crazy world with reckless love and abandon. and for being real.

BZ: for thoughtfulness and encouragement and spirit. for talent that goes on for miles. for always finding the good. for fake mustaches.

EV: for phone calls that break up the day. for too many similarities to count. for trading in tiaras and earning new titles as mamas instead. for strength.

EJH: for laughter. for being honest. for finding silver linings and reminding me of good. for celebrating what matters and never giving up.

GDZ: for believing. for cultivating love and family and generosity and care. for graciousness and gracefulness and grace.

TMD: for late night conversations. for cheering on and lifting up and leaning in. for lessons. and for bunches, not grapes.

JMK: for covenant. for building a legacy. for falling in and rolling to the middle. for dreaming and watching dreams come true. for what is to come.

And there are more, of course, who I don’t mean to miss in the least bit. More who challenge me in the best ways and who build me up–who teach me about blessing and God and what it means to be selfless, generous, willing, authentic, kind, bold. This entry could be a novel, and I sit back in wonder and think, “How did I ever end up here, with so much beauty at every turn?” You are. Believe it. I know it to be true. Beautiful.

there are not enough words.

mm

another mom’s take.

18 Jan

This post has been making waves in mom circles all over the internet today after its publication on the Huff Post Parents page. In it, blogger/writer Glennon Melton articulates her thoughts on the notion of savoring every moment with our children–how she’s left feeling when someone else reminds her to do so and her own take on enjoying parenting in strides. I personally enjoyed the article wholeheartedly, and here’s why:

-She’s real. Honest, open, vulnerable in that way, and likely inside the minds of millions of moms who struggled at some point this week while running errands with their kids.

-She’s not trying to negate the support of a fellow mom, but rather to express how it made her feel in the moment. Can’t fault her for it–we all have these thoughts from time to time. I can relate well from the standpoint that she left the store chewing on it and deemed it worthy of a blog post later. There’s also some beautiful mommy revelations to be had throughout. Nuggets of wisdom I hope to remember, for sure.

-It’s obvious she loves her children a great deal. And she’s practical about loving them in a way that meets their needs, and her own. A mom who is comfortable in her own skin is a marvelous thing. We should all be so teachable.

Glennon’s thoughts that I’m convinced are absolute pearls of wisdom:

-”I think parenting young children (and old ones, I’ve heard) is a little like climbing Mount Everest. Brave, adventurous souls try it because they’ve heard there’s magic in the climb. They try because they believe that finishing, or even attempting the climb are impressive accomplishments. They try because during the climb, if they allow themselves to pause and lift their eyes and minds from the pain and drudgery, the views are breathtaking. They try because even though it hurts and it’s hard, there are moments that make it worth the hard. These moments are so intense and unique that many people who reach the top start planning, almost immediately, to climb again.”

-”There was a famous writer who, when asked if he loved writing, replied, “No. but I love having written.”

As a side note, I (Molly) do love writing, but it’s true that having written can be ohsomuch more gratifying most days. When it’s late at night and I’m tired, I write so that I can go to bed knowing I’ve written. Kind of like working out, for me at least.

-”Parenting is hard. Just like lots of important jobs are hard. Why is it that the second a mother admits that it’s hard, people feel the need to suggest that maybe she’s not doing it right? Or that she certainly shouldn’t add more to her load. Maybe the fact that it’s so hard means she IS doing it right…in her own way…and she happens to be honest.”

And then of course, the ENTIRE bit about kairos vs chronos time at the end. After reading it, I was challenged to think, “kairos” to myself every time I looked at Henry today and everything else stood still. And you know what? It happened over and over again. If you’re a mom, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND READING THIS POST. You may not agree with all of it, and that’s ok. It hit the spot for me. I was honestly laughing and tearing up at the same time, and thinking all the while, “Yes, yes and YES!” I don’t know Glennon Melton from Adam, but if I met her, I have a feeling I’d really like her. Perhaps someday I’ll write a post that reaches out and grabs another mom the same way this one did me.

It’s lovely not to feel alone, isn’t it mamas? And there are a lot of us out there, doing our thing the best we can–whether we’re aware of the army of other mama’s out there doing the same thing in their own beautiful way, or not. Glennon is out there. As am I.

embracing the kairos moments,

mm

not the driver.

22 Sep

This morning while Henry napped, I got ready as usual and then tried to decide what one or two things to tackle before I expected him to wake up a short time later. I sorted and started a load of laundry, made the bed, wrote a commercial for work, sent a few emails, then checked to see if H was still breathing or lying awake in his crib in complete quiet. Nope, just sleeping. So I pondered squeezing in the dishes, making a phone call, sending a birthday text and folding some laundry…but not before a moment of clarity and the freeing decision to rid my life of Facebook for the week.

Here’s the thing of it: Facebook is an escape mechanism for me in far too many moments of the day. By nature of its convenient access on my phone, the habit of “just checking” sneaks in between activities with HD, while I’m nursing, before I fall asleep at night and generally whenever I have more than a minute (but less than 10) of downtime. I think I do this because I like to feel connected to the outside world while I’m at home with a very small person who does not yet make conversation. Facebook provides some sort of constant news reel into the daily lives of the people around me, and while I’m not often looking for the details of what’s happening across town or in someone else’s backyard, I am interested in the things that interest others–great links to intriguing websites, photos from the last historic wedding or vacation, queries about baby things and the delight of being new parents (as so many of our friends have become in recent weeks and months). Facebook creates the opportunity to share and interact without the necessity of scheduling twelve hundred coffee dates or lunches–it connects friends who would otherwise be at a distance and bridges the communication gap in all of our busy lives. And while I’m all for coffee dates galore and lunches penciled into plenty of squares on the calendar, let’s be honest. It would be impossible to connect with all of the same people we do on Facebook in actual, face-to-face conversation…or at least it would be impossible to do so nearly as often. So, yes. I like it. Admittedly, I’ve grown perhaps a little too attached to it in the quiet that has evolved around life as a stay-at-home, work-at-home mom. I used to interact with people in person all day long. And I miss it.

But truthfully, I’ve started to feel a bit strange about the way that I’m drawn to FB on the screen as soon as I open my computer. I’d rather check my news feed than my email, would rather catch up on photos of other people’s adorable children in photo albums than scrapbook all of the pictures piling up of our own. I think maybe I’ve lost a little bit of myself in the world of social networking, and I don’t even know when it happened.

This was a sobering realization this morning as I took a little time in the quiet just to think. I occurred to me that I’m always wishing for more time to handle the million things I either want or need to accomplish. Like blogging. Reading. Journaling. Sleeping. Working. Praying. (And not in that order.) There’s just so much I need–and I do mean need, to be about right now. And Facebook isn’t one of them. Yes, I absolutely want to connect with friends. Yes, I absolutely am interested in their lives, families, worries, excitements, and status updates. But my status as a spiritually and emotionally whole person is changing because I’m constantly discouraged about all I’ve needed to fit into one day and didn’t. And yes, I totally recognize this isn’t just about Facebook.

So today has been a lot about priorities, and about ways I can begin to curb my feelings of inadequacy on various levels in my daily life. When I made the decision to shut the Facebook window this morning and to sign off intentionally for at least a week, I immediately felt my spirit lift a little bit. It was freeing. One less thing that I have to keep up on throughout the day. I allowed myself to get into a habit that wasn’t necessarily harmful, but it wasn’t productive either. And now I’m going to break it.

As I went about the next 30 or so minutes of my morning before Hank woke up (Marathon nap today, little buddy. THANK YOU!), I felt like my mind was more clear and as though God was absolutely guiding me through my time. I’ve noticed quite regularly since H was born that if I desperately need to do or finish something before he wakes up, I have just exactly the perfect amount of time to complete the task. Then Henry, as if on cue, wakes up and lets me know I’m needed–not a moment too late nor a moment too soon. I’ve believed this is God’s way of blessing me with time on each occasion. And I believe without a doubt that it happened again today. I wanted to get a certain number of things done. I said a prayer. I had my little Facebook revelation, and I got to work. Darn if Henry didn’t sleep right up until I was finished with what I needed to do. God covered me and my time this morning, and I think it’s because I let Him drive. I’m certain I didn’t arrive at the conclusion to ditch Facebook all on my own–I like it too much. Instead, I just asked God to help me find time, and He did, right in front of me. Right where I needed it. As silly as it may seem, it’s a big deal to me. Life is a whole lot smoother a ride when I don’t always insist on driving.

handing over the keys this week, and hopefully the next…and the next…

mm

terms and conditions.

2 Jul

Henry is in the middle of what appears to be a three hour (ish) nap. I considered waking him because he’s due to eat (what am I, nuts?), but I decided to blog instead. Now he’s guaranteed to wake up–does the trick every time. Until that fateful moment occurs, I’m going to shed a little light on how I’ve been feeling this past week. Henry is almost ten weeks old, and together, we’ve weathered a lot since he joined us in April. This week (and the week before) were no exception, but I hope that they’re not setting the tone for the days ahead.

I’ll say this first. I. am. exhausted. Not so much physically–but mentally, emotionally and spiritually I’m just drained. It’s not hard to feel semi-rested physically when I only sit, stand, rock, walk and hold a baby all day, and when I’ve gotten better at “sleeping when the baby sleeps.” It’s terribly hard to fill up on the other three though, when I’m constantly focused on Henry’s every need. Much to our chagrin, he did not come with a manual–and as of late there’s been a LOT of trouble-shooting to be done. I feel like I know my son better than anyone else, and I still don’t know him in all of the ways he needs me to these days. I’m sure I’ll feel less this way with future children, but I’m just Henry’s mom for now, and I want to make it all OK, to fix it, to have the answers and to make life a little easier on all of us.

Babies don’t come with a defined set terms and conditions.

Or maybe they do. Love them, feed them, change them, burp them, love them some more. Bathe them, rock them, sing and read to them, stroll them around for awhile, lather, rinse, repeat. I’m not so bad at the feeding/changing/burping/bathing part. I thoroughly enjoy the singing/reading/strolling/rocking parts, and the love part is the easiest of all. So why is it that I can’t sort out life with a tiny little person any better than I’m managing to now?

I know, I know. This too shall pass. And when I’m up in the middle of the night, or feeding for the fifteenth time in one day, I’m absolutely and completely not alone. I just want to want to do this all over again at some point (two or three or four times, maybe), and right now, I can’t see past the next feeding or tonight’s sleep schedule. This week has been HARD. Really hard. And we’re just going to have to put it behind us and move on. There’s a little lesson in every single day.

What’s good about all of this change and adjustment and stress and vulnerability? More than ever, I’m reminded that I have to, I need to pray, pray, pray. And to celebrate the simple things. Simple, like the fact that Henry and I ran a few errands today (gas station, cloth diaper store, Target, Starbucks (necessary, albeit decaf))…and that he only screamed once through the checkout at Target…and that we both made it home in one piece with a month’s worth of paper goods for the house, dog food, new diapers to try and a frappuccino–all without anyone or anything melting in the 90 degree heat. Whew. That IS a step in the right direction!

Tonight when we’re back to feeding and rocking and lulling and soothing, I’m going to keep trying to focus on the only terms and conditions I know to be failsafe in this case:

“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” 1 Thess. 5.16-18 (ESV)

And I’m going to keep praying this:

“Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, so that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.” Psalm 90.14

so glad i’m not dependent on my own strength,

mm

for this reason.

13 Jun

Every night I want so badly to arrive in this space and share about the day…my thoughts, my misgivings, sweet moments, memories I’d prefer not to forget–all of the fare you’d expect from a new mommy. But here’s the thing…

Lately, I’ve been tied up with this:

and some of this:

and a whole lot of this:

And then at night when I once used to be busy blogging, Henry is busy doing this:

Truly, I wouldn’t change it for the world. But my sleep tank is slowly draining down to very, very little, and these past few nights have been especially trying for this still-adjusting, still-new momma. So lately I’ve been planning on things like blogging and sleep but holding an unhappy babe instead. New mommies do a lot of planning and a lot less executing of said plans, I think.

Tonight, Henry is down for the count and I will be quick to follow. Three hours a night just isn’t enough for Henry’s mom. Nope. But I couldn’t resist at least a little post ;)

and now (fingers crossed), to bed for a few (?) hours,

mm

stillness.

29 May

I hopped onto the blog tonight without thoughts on a topic or direction, but as is often the case, the ideas formed in my mind just as I sat down to type. For this very reason, this space has been so sacred to me throughout the past few months–and especially in the last five weeks as Henry has joined our family and life has adjusted in a major way.

When I get here, I don’t always know what I want to say, or exactly how to say it. There are days, of course, where I’ve had a thought I want to share since getting up in the morning…but more often as of late, I’ve been somewhat blank before sitting down at the computer at the end of a long day. So here I am again, at the end of a day that has been wonderful in a lot of ways and very long in others (read: 3.5 hours of sleep last night with the little one and only a short afternoon nap), and suddenly, in the moment, I have something to say.

Tonight, I’m rejuvenated by the silence that surrounds me, and this house, in this sweet (and surely momentary) space in time. Jason is out with the dog for a walk, and Henry, who was screaming not just 30 minutes ago, has fallen peacefully asleep in his car seat. Before this, we were arriving home from a lovely night with friends and I was planning to feed him for these minutes that are passing oh-so-quietly while he slumbers. For the moment, it’s just me and the couch and the click of the keyboard, with a peaceful stir from the other side of the room every once in a while.

As cliché as it may seem, I love the sound of Henry sleeping. From that tiny little person come the greatest little squeaks and murmurs as he’s sound asleep–unaware of the rest of the world. From this vantage point, he is my still (very) small baby, dreaming and growing and resting as he should; and the whole world feels right. In between the crying and the fussing, the squirming and trouble shooting that we take on each day, there is a stillness so beautiful in a newborn babe.

Our lives can become so cluttered up with the pace of things…the plans and schedules and commitments that we create for ourselves–and plenty that are created for us. But in this learning season, where everything is new and we stay closer to home, where schedules are what a baby makes of them and nights and days blend together, the clutter somehow melts away. We simply are. And we embrace the stillness. the silence. the noise.

soaking it in as the little one wakes…

mm

after (and before:) the noise tonight:

four weeks, and a new page. (day 29)

23 May

How time flies! I cannot believe that four whole weeks have passed us by–they’ve literally flown, day by day off of the calendar, and here we are staring a four week old baby (a one month old on Wednesday!) and the month of June in the face. May has been very sneaky, tip toeing past me as I sit with Henry from feeding to feeding and nap to nap. And as much as I have been so challenged by all that’s happened in these past four weeks, it’s true that they are gone “in a blink” like everyone said they would be; and I’m relieved and taking a deep breath and a little melancholy over all of it at the same time.

Henry is marvelous. I know I’m willed to say that as his mother, but my “mommyness” aside, I would still be in awe of the chance to watch an entire human being enter the world, then change and grow and develop into someone who has his very own personality and faces, inclinations and preferences–all in such a short time! Creation is so powerful. I can’t understand how anyone who has witnessed pregnancy, birth or the development of an newborn could question the possibility of God. His fingerprints have been everywhere on this journey.

As we approach the one month mark and life begins to return to some semblance of normal (although new and relatively unrecognizable compared to its previous state), I am preparing my heart and my mind, as well as my passion for the written word, to dip back into things that are just as much “mollymadonna” as they are baby and Henry and birth and the like. Undoubtedly, Henry will maintain a strong presence here on the blog and in my reflection of things, but this season of focused writing is winding down and another is winding up. I can feel it. The timing is right. And I have a catalogue of 120 some odd days of life as it began, both with and for Henry.

I am thrilled that what started out as a little self-challenge has become a collection of love-filled anecdotes and reflections for our little boy. In this process, I wanted only to honor him and the person he was becoming as he grew in my belly, and post-birth, to honor his new and powerful presence in our lives. I hope that I’ve done so here.

Tomorrow and the next day will be the final posts in my series of “days” for Henry, but what follows will be the beginning of something else. I don’t quite know what that will look like yet, but I’m excited to discover it as I go! I haven’t quite told Henry’s birth story here yet, and I think it would be the perfect conclusion to this season of days. As Henry turns one month old and I look back on all of the beauty that has surrounded us since his arrival, I recognize that the way he came into the world has had so much to do with how we have welcomed and embraced him in the days following his birth. I’m looking forward to sharing…

Thank you for journeying with me, and with us. And please don’t stop visiting :) I still plan to blog daily, but will hopefully bring new and fresh things to the table for those who join me here. Until then, another day has gone by, and another few moments with Henry have made their way to our photo collection:

looking forward to what’s next!

mm

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