MollyMadonna.com

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holding space. (77)

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These toes belong to Eloise. She will be three in just a few short weeks, but as she napped in mommy and daddy’s bed this afternoon, they looked like baby toes to me, and I took a photo to remember their sweetness.

We take photographs all of the time. As a family, we’re pretty camera happy, and we capture moments whether or not they’re artistic or aesthetically beautiful to anyone else. Jason and I both love to get a great shot, but we’ve also come to terms with the reality of capturing images of our children–there is often someone moving, making a face, looking away, halfway gone before the shutter does its job. We take them anyway. Here and there, we’re blessed to snag an image that holds space for us in an impactful way. Like today’s piggy toes, the countless images we’ve stored are sacred to us because they’re attached to memories and moments we don’t want to erase.

Life feels like it gets busier and busier all of the time. I don’t mean just our lives as a family with young children who are growing at a rapid pace. I mean life in general, for all of us. There is more input, more access, more distraction, more tragedy. And it all has impact.

There are too many things that take us away from where our focus might otherwise be: devices might get as much or more attention than the people we care about the most. The news is always raging with something hard and worthy of substantial processing time and prayer. Life moves faster because we have instant access to so many things…information, communication, entertainment, worry, celebration, fear.

It’s beautiful that we can get to things we need and/or want to know with such ease, but I think it makes it hard sometimes to slow down or intentionally stop the influx of input in the interest of holding space instead.

As time goes by (and especially as our children change and grow so quickly), I want to be intentional about holding space in our family. I want our kids to know that there is always time to be with them and to hear what they have to say. I want there to be room for whole hours and days where we take things in together and make conscientious decisions to choose each other over the world we have access to in an instant.

It feels like all of this should be a no brainer, yet I’m afraid it isn’t. I know that I need to choose space and time with my people above other things, but it’s a habit requiring intention, like anything else.

I capture our kids in moments each day for the same reason I’m writing here daily through the month of September–my heart says to remember, to be intentional about being able to look back, and to appreciate the little things that amount to big things when our babies are suddenly 5 and almost 3 and just a few months away from being born.

Life is short. On days like today, in the aftermath of another international tragedy last night, life feels more than short. It feels fragile and unknown, too. Sometimes, you just need a photograph of your baby’s toes to remind you that there is still sweetness and simplicity in this world. Sometimes, you just need to feel like your babies are safe…like you might be able to protect them or preserve them for always. Occasionally a photograph might trigger that feeling. More often, a good snuggle session will do the trick for a time.

However it happens, I think our kiddos need us to hold sacred space for them just as much as we crave hanging on to the beautiful parts of young childhood on their behalf.

We take photographs because we love the memories. When we look back on them, we’re not just remembering how someone looked a year ago or how much they’ve grown. We’re remembering the space around that time, too. We capture it, because the moment has a significance all its own.

Sure, Eloise’s toes look like baby toes, and of course when I saw them peeking out this afternoon I thought about how she has changed so much and is growing so fast. More than that though, the photograph above holds a space for me that a fleeting moment just can’t. When I come across it, I’ll remember how Eloise desperately wanted to sleep in our bed today so we were nearby, how she soaked up her nap time story all snuggled close to me, and how she settled into sleep, trusting that she was safe and cared for in that bed today, just as she needed to be. I’ll remember for a long, long time.

It seems like preserving space is just as much a part of our job as parents as filling it up with places to go and things to do. When I feel guilty about slowing down or not programming our time to a hilt, I need to remember that the space to just be, to recall, to let our hair down, and to exist together as a family unit is equally as important, too.

holding space as best I can, wherever I can, for as long as I can,

mm

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short and sweet. (79)

It’s awfully late tonight as I begin this post, and I’m wondering if it’s really possible that we’re down to counting through the 70s this week…I can hardly believe it.

Today was a mash up of busy kiddos, errands in the hot temps of July, a park playdate, testing limits, uplifting conversation and small stretches of quiet. It was a maxed out day in many ways, and a refueling day in others.

I wrestled with things, like how to best parent our littles in high intensity moments at home while keeping my cool, how to best address an expanding to do list while still offering attention to Henry and Eloise, and how I hope/want to approach this next labor and birth (which I’ll expound on in another post when I arrive there:) ).  These issues are not all on the same plane, I realize, but they did all claim brain power and emotional energy from yours truly since the sun came up.

The summer heat has not gotten the best of me until now. I won’t camp here for the duration of this pregnancy (I do love being pregnant in the summer time!), but I’ll just admit for memory’s sake that today was a hot one. And I think I stayed out in it just a bit too long. We were all melting a little on our way home from the park this afternoon.

Baby is very active tonight (and every night), doing some kind of flinching, earthquake-ish sort of dance. I can’t tell at all what’s what or what is moving where. I just feel baby everywhere and appreciate the signs of a growing life wherever I can find them.

I am processing a lot about a lot of things, wishing I always exercised perfect judgment on staying quiet in some areas while being more vocal on others. There is delicate balance to aim for, for sure. I’ll keep trying.

The clock has rolled past midnight and I can hardly keep my eyes open as I type. It’s time for this mama to get to bed in prep for another day that will most assuredly be full of new adventures tomorrow.

tired and processing, but in a good way.

mm

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minimalism and lemonade. (84)

So much of life is about making room, isn’t it? And when we don’t, the physical and emotional piles can stack up to what feels like an insurmountable height. That is, unless we’re good at tucking things away…

We’ve lived in our house for almost eight years, and although our storage spaces are an interesting challenge because it’s an older home, we’ve gotten pretty creative about putting things out of sight. It’s easy to think we’ll need or use something again, justifying our “clutter” so long as it’s organized into bins and boxes. We’ve added a large dog and two kids to the mix around here since our early married days, and a lot of “stuff” has accumulated in the process.

I’m not sure how many trips we make to the nearby donation center each year, but in spite of those visits, we’ve still looked around here lately and felt like a much more drastic de-cluttering was necessary. The itch began even before we went to a screening of Minimalism in May, but viewing the film together pushed Jason and I both to a new level of desiring clarity in our space. We decided to play the Minimalist’s 30-day Minimalism Game, which meant we would both aim to get rid of a total of 450+ items in the month of July.

900 fewer things in our house sounded crazy, but also awesome. So the piles began.

We’ve tossed plenty of items in the past month, but there’s also a lot here that still has so much life left in it, so we decided a garage sale was likely around the corner. I’m not sure having a garage sale in July in your third trimester with two small kids running around is a brilliant idea, but I’m certain that de-cluttering is, so tomorrow’s the day.

The house looks insane. Truly. There are things everywhere. Jason’s been pricing in the garage and I’ve been on the hunt in long-forgotten spaces around here for things of potential value or use or treasure to someone else. We moved the dining room table to the side of the room today and just filled it with things. I’m both twitchy (at the ridiculous mess) and excited to see the amount of items that will exit our house tomorrow morning, never to return.

Can someone tell me why I've been hanging on to these all this time? Tomorrow...out the door. Wish I'd been taking pictures all day, but I'll be sure to take more of the fun tomorrow.

Can someone tell me why I’ve been hanging on to these all of this time? Tomorrow…out the door. Wish I’d been taking pictures all day, but I’ll be sure to capture more of the fun tomorrow.

We make a deal when we have garage sales (which happen once every few years because we are not big fans of this process). Nothing that goes out comes back in. It finds a new home. So whatever people don’t want to buy tomorrow, someone else can find next week at our favorite thrift store down the street. But they won’t find it here. I’m thrilled about that part. I am praying that lots of people will come and be able to enjoy things that would love a good home. Poor Jason has to do all of the heavy lifting on his own while I just move small piles from here to there, so the more that walks off the driveway, the better. It will be so good to get to 3 or 4pm tomorrow afternoon. 🙂

We’re also looking forward to our kiddos’ first lemonade stand in the morning (so if you live nearby and you’re out and about in the morning, come say hello)! We asked Henry to think about something that he would like to raise money for, and I love where he landed. Remember when I shared about Preemptive Love just over a week ago? Henry has been drawn to the stories of refugees since the crisis began, and when we talk about what’s happening in Fallujah and how people are living without basic health and safety needs right now, he jumps right to the kids and wonders what it’s like for them. I’ve explained about leaving their homes and all of their belongings, and the feelings of fear they have in the refugee camps without guaranteed shelter and safety. It bothers him that they have to wear just the clothes they have on and what they can carry. I love his heart.

We chatted about the people in Fallujah a bit more tonight, and he said, “Mom, I think when we send the money, we should make little invitations to send with it, inviting those families to come here and live with us.” Oh, sweet, sweet boy. If only we could do exactly that.

But we can do something, so tomorrow, we’ll have lemonade here, and the kids will accept donations to send to Preemptive Love toward their efforts to provide food and clean water to refugees. My hope is that this will be the first of many lemonade stands for a cause on our driveway.

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These popsicles were pretty cool, but lemonade for good is even cooler! Come see us tomorrow!

The clock is ticking on pricing and sorting and piling and such for tomorrow, so I’m off to get back to garage sale to-dos. Surely we will all rest well tomorrow night when we’re through!

making room for baby and sipping lemonade, one day at a time,

molly madonna

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sweet gramma lady. (89)

“Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same.” -Flavia Weedn

July 3rd just can’t come and go on any year without thoughts of one of my favorite people in the world. Today would have been Gramma Donna’s 86th birthday, and I selfishly wish we could have celebrated it together.

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Celebrating Gramma’s 75th birthday, 11 years ago.

I’ve thought a lot lately about how my days and plans might be different if Gramma were still with us–trips to Chicago to visit with the kiddos, phone calls at rest time in the afternoon so Henry could say hello and Gramma and I could catch up a while. When I drive somewhere at a distance, I miss being able to dial her number, still able to hear her “Hello?” on the other end of the line.

It’s hard for me that these babies of ours will never know her. Henry knows of her, surely, and he’s seen photos of himself with her from when he was very small. But Eloise? She and the baby I’m growing now will never know the lady who could get right to the very closest parts of my heart, and I hate that. I really do. As much as Gramma was one of my best friends my whole life, she was amazing with babies, and I would have loved for her to snuggle ours for so much longer.

We are fortunate to have had so many years with the beauty who ushered our family through everything with grace. She was the hostess with the mostest, whether we gathered as a whole family, or even if it was just me walking through the door. She loved Jason. She treasured Henry for the time she had. I’m so thankful she could know my boys and that I could share that part of my life with her. But there are so many good bits that we’ve had to leave out…

I am a different wife, mother and friend than I was the day that Gramma died. A lot has changed. I hope that she would know me now and be proud of the woman I’m growing into–I still run things through a WWGT (what would Gramma think) filter often, which just means to me that she was every bit as special to my heart as she seemed for all of those years.

Gramma pops up in places from time to time and I don’t mind a bit: A DVD from my Hope chest that Henry found not long ago, recording Christmas from when I was six and Gramma was wearing my favorite blouse and polyester pants. Even then, I was snuggled close to her on the couch whenever I had the chance. She just knew me and she knew my heart, and I think I sensed that way deep down from when I was very small. A gold chain, strung around my neck every single day. Eloise asked last week if I ever take it off, but I don’t. I like it there, where a little part of Gramma still feels close and tangible. Towels in the linen closet, some still unfolded, from her closet at home. They still smell like her and look like her, memories of sleepovers at her house and baths in the pink bathtub when I was young still trailing along with them.

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Soaking up every word, circa 1985. I was three.

Everything about Gramma was pure to me. My earliest memories have her in them. My greatest moments growing up do, too. Birthdays, musicals, school events, holidays, award ceremonies, recitals. She’d not miss a one.

There is so much to be said for having had someone in my life who was like a parent to me, but removed from a parental role. In that way, she could always be my confidant, a home away from home, a soft place to land. Today on her birthday and on so many other days, too, I miss her deeply, with an ache and a void that only the hope of Heaven can fill. Time does soften the space left behind, it’s true. But nothing can quite fill it. My heart tells me that’s a good thing; she was one of a kind in my life. Still, I hated losing her, and I hate that she’s gone. It really won’t ever be the same.

For all of the good and the joy and the parts of me she represents, I am thankful and changed. And I couldn’t ask for anything more than that from all those years of loving someone so wonderfully good.

Happy Birthday, sweet Gramma lady,

molly madonna

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enjoying parenthood. (90)

Parenting is hard work, there’s no question. From the moment we set eyes on a firstborn son or daughter–and maybe even long before that, the daily exercise of dying to self becomes a call on our lives.

When I was pregnant with our firstborn, Henry, I remember it being somewhat of a magical time. Once I got past the nausea and exhaustion that comes with the first trimester (and even then, really), I was fired up to become a mom. There were no little ones running around the house to demand time or energy from me outside of my uterus, which made focusing entirely on preparations for our baby my reality. I loved all of the mile markers of that first pregnancy, and I could embrace every preparation and baby decision that came our way. But, while I made the very most of those days carrying and growing Henry, I don’t think I could appreciate then what parenting was all about (and I’m definitely learning still).

From the start, I was thrilled to think about holding and feeding and rocking our sweet baby. I was humbled that God would entrust a little life to us to look after. And, as a first time parent, I heard plenty of advice on how to savor moments and not blink loooong before Henry arrived to us. There were also plenty of folks who wanted to impart wisdom by way of warnings and horror stories about parenting, as well as more than enough people who thought it appropriate to comment or judge my pregnancy and unborn baby based on my size, shape and the “way I was carrying.” To put it plainly, I felt initiated into the world of motherhood well before I ever met our baby boy, and sometimes, to a fault.

But I didn’t know motherhood then the way I can know it now, and I certainly didn’t appreciate it the way I do today. I had no idea just how much parenthood would refine me from the inside, out. Not only has my body foregone the physical changes of pregnancy several times now, but I am not who I was six years ago, and I am so grateful for that.

There are days, like this morning, when the kids wake up all too early, and I’ve made the silly adult decision of staying up too late the night before. In these moments, my first inclination is to grumble–to tell the littles they need to read quietly or wait for breakfast or find something to play until I’m ready to greet the day. (Honestly, I’m crazy-fortunate that both kiddos actually like to read to for a while when they first wake up, and that their yearnings for breakfast can often be quelled with a snack for a bit before I get into the kitchen.) But I’m beholden to these little lives that I begged and prayed so much for God to create, and as a parent, I know I need to rise (quite literally) to the occasion and be a mom to them before I need to put myself first.

I do give myself a bit more grace at this stage of my third pregnancy, inviting the kids on some days to snuggle in bed next to me with a snack or a pile of stories so I can get a little more rest, and they are (mostly) incredibly gracious to oblige. We all know we’re working together as a team to invite a new life into our family, and that makes this season of being more tired and achy all the more sweet; even at five and nearly three years old, Henry and Eloise are definitely able to understand small sacrifices as we all work to love and serve each other well. But this has without a doubt been an effort on our part as parents, too, to model hearts of service as best we can and to have reasonable expectations of each other, which isn’t always easy.

What we are learning over and over again in this stage of parenting (and pregnancy) is that there is SO much to be said for the effort of enjoying our children–not just for who they are, but also for the seasons they’re in as individuals and as siblings, too.

This is hard work. Super hard. And we fail at it all of the time. There are countless times a day when my natural inclination is bent toward frustration before I arrive at grace.

I have to make a conscious effort to respond out of love, to have enough patience, and to model self-sacrifice by putting my own needs down before theirs. It is a daily exercise that shifts and changes with whims and moods and developmental stages. Often, it feels like shooting at a moving target; sometimes I miss, and occasionally I hit the bullseye and feel like a rockstar parent for a few minutes until the next target comes up. It’s a beautifully sanctifying, maddening, refining process.

With my hormones changing on me in an instant and without notice lately (I mean, the growing belly is notice, but there’s not much more than that 😉 ), I have to be especially conscious of when I need to step away. More often than usual, I have to creatively manage breaks so that Henry and Eloise are still exposed to more of my normal M.O., and are shielded from the irrational responses that surprise me just as much as them. In some cases, this is just a few minutes in the bathroom alone, washing dishes at the sink while the kids play together in the other room, or planned screen time for 20 minutes so I can shower and clear some head space without interruption. Today, it was an afternoon nap that shifted gears for me in a major way.

I could feel guilty about taking small breaks away from our kids–especially as a stay at home mom. But what causes more guilt are the things I feel (and sometimes say) that come from not taking breaks away at all. When I’m with our kids, I want them to know just how deeply I love them and how much I truly enjoy them. And while I can’t articulate or demonstrate this in every moment, I think it’s healthy and important for them to experience my coming back from a break refreshed. We appreciate each other more, and our times together are more fulfilling, when we have all had some space to recharge, too.

So, yes. I believe it’s totally possible for us to enjoy our kids at every stage, even if some stages require more digging to find the sweet spots than others. And yes, I believe we are called as parents to delight in the gifts we’ve been given in our children. Not only do they mold and refine us, but they can absolutely offer joy and insight and dimension to our lives that might otherwise be easily focused on ourselves alone.

Motherhood has called me far outside of myself and back again, down to the deep places of my spirit that I didn’t know existed, and further into the depths of my capacity to love.

It started before I could even feel Henry moving with gusto in my belly, and I pray it will continue long after our days of parenting wee ones have ended. In fact, I hope we never stop growing and finding more ways to enjoy our children–as newborns, toddlers, preschoolers, students, teenagers, adults, and parents themselves. Naysayers seem to warn as often as they get the chance, “You think this is hard? Just wait…” but I’m not going to hang my hat there.

Yes, this is gig is hard. Lots of other gigs are, too. I just can’t think of one that comes with as much joy and reward over the long haul. Raising small people to become great as big people is no joke. And I kind of can’t wait to start again with this babe in my belly, learning more about myself as a person and as a mom, and discovering more of what God has for our family along the way.

grace to every parent, everywhere. to the ones who are smack in the middle of the daily call of parenting now, and to those who hope to be someday soon. the sacrifice is major, but the reward is, too.

xoxo,

mm