MollyMadonna.com

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empty tanks. (59)

It’s well over an hour past bedtime, and the host of shenanigans will not end upstairs tonight. Such is the case with summer daylight and sharing a bedroom, I suppose, but the string of nights where this has been the case feels unceasing. I’ve heard the toilet flush no less than four times in sixty minutes. The littlest has joined me once downstairs. The eldest has gotten dad’s attention outside several times from the upstairs window, and the banter about light sabering each other and who needs which stuffed animal just will. not. end.

I’d be writing about something else tonight entirely, but the running dialogue from daytime has carried itself far later into the evening than is desirable, and all I can hear is the back and forth of kiddos again and again in my ears.

This is the beautiful, trying, hopeful, crazy season of life we’re in.

I wonder frequently to myself about how the new baby will settle into the monkeyish madness of it all. I know third babies are often flexible, go with the flow type personalities who slot right into the current family dynamic, but I don’t want to make assumptions. The first six months with Eloise were some of the most challenging of my life, and for various reasons. Mostly, she and I didn’t sleep for more than a three hour stretch at night, and a good part of our days were spent trying to figure out how to help our little peanut, who was clearly uneasy with life and frequently in pain. She is an incredibly easy going personality now, but I still carry that experience with me. It was terribly hard.

So I think forward to less than two months from now and try to project all of the best possible outcomes while still bracing myself for what I know could also be very tough. I absolutely mean it when I say that I can’t wait to welcome this new babe into our family. I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m just having a hard time feeling like I enter into much of anything gracefully these days, and I don’t want that to be true of the days surrounding baby’s arrival.

My perfectionist tendencies pour out onto the table right about here.

The third trimester of pregnancy is such a dichotomy, isn’t it? You want to be doing ALL of the things, but circumstances kind of dictate that you actually slow down a bit. Only some of the tasks get done…on a good day. I feel like I need to find a way to settle into that reality peacefully, but in this pregnancy especially, it’s an effort for me to do so.

The other day I shared about getting to my emotional to do list before my physical one. Every bit of what I said is true. I am definitely prioritizing emotional things over physical ones these days, and that feels appropriate. But the nesting, particular, visionary mama in me wishes regularly that all of the lists were dwindling more than they actually are.

I guess you could say my flexibility is in training for the days to come when this baby is no longer tucked away, but out in the world and contributing to our family in whatever ways he or she brings life to the table. That’s probably a good thing.

The unrest upstairs tonight is reflective of my own unrest as I sort through the contents of another toasty summer day packed with plenty to do and more that will be left undone. If I’m recording these days with honesty, then the reality here is exactly this. We’re all tired. We’re all a bit frayed at the edges for various reasons. We’re all excited for baby to come, and probably all a tad emotionally charged because that day is on the horizon.

I need to be filling up my tank with grace each day so I can extend it out to the people I love the most. I haven’t cracked the code on this by any stretch, but I’m going to keep trying.

banking on the highlights of the day today, and looking forward to a fresh start in the morning,

mm

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hello, august! (60)

When I woke up this morning, something magical happened. My answer to one of pregnancy’s most frequently asked questions became, “Next month!”

Now that’s a good feeling.

Today was a full one. Camp for Henry in the morning, grocery shopping with my favorite girl, camp pickup, grocery unloading and putting away (hey, I’m counting that as a big deal when it’s over 80º and I’m this pregnant, ok? 🙂 ), lunch time, play time, vacuuming, nap time (during which not a single soul was napping), prep for tonight’s maternity pictures (eek!), refereeing (because, no napping), more prep, dinner prep, a bit more photo prep, family/maternity/headshot photos, kiddos still up an hour past bedtime, chillin’ like a villain on the couch at these keys and contemplating some DF ice cream to put a cap on it all. Because in all honesty, I do not think I’ve stopped perspiring since about 9am, and ice cream feels like the right choice right about now. (Might still have to sneak cereal and blueberries somewhere in there, too. That’s just how baby and I roll.)

"Mom, can we look at the flowers today? Can I have all of these at my birthday party?" She makes me stop and smell the flowers in a good way all of the time--even when grocery shopping.

“Mom, can we look at the flowers today? Can I have all of these at my birthday party?” She makes me stop and smell the flowers in a good way all of the time–even when grocery shopping.

It occurred to me last night that our little bean will likely be up every night at 11:30p.m.(ish), ready and waiting for a feeding to replace all of this late night cereal consumption. Am I programming our baby in a dangerous way here? I might be.

Just means I’ll have a little pal to hang out with in my night owl state for a while. I’m good with that.

Have I mentioned we’re getting a new couch before then?! I couldn’t be more excited about this fact. Our current couch is fine and all, but I cannot comfortably sit and nurse a baby at all hours on this lovely piece of furniture anymore. I don’t know if it’s me or the furniture, but a new spot to perch from was something I petitioned for a few months back when I started thinking toward the late night feedings in my future. We’re looking forward to a little change-up on the furniture front to coincide with our paint swapping in the living room. Can’t wait to see it all come together!

August and September are decidedly “pull it all together” months around here this year. I’m so happy to have arrived at their beginning. I am not a wish-summer-away kind of girl by any stretch, but it does feel good to be rounding the corner on some bigger things that have been a long time coming, like a new couch, let’s say. Or fresh paint. Or maybe a brand new human. There it is. That’s the big one. “Next month.”

Such a good thing.

I could squeal with delight at the thought of holding this fresh new babe in my arms. It’s getting close enough that I can feel it now. It’s no longer far from reach. Amazing.

Tonight during pictures, our littlest love was hopping around in my belly, as if he or she knew they were the star of the show. Beautiful. Nothing could make me happier than our four, marveling together at the thought of our newest family member growing healthy and strong. May it be so!

I’m still somehow full of energy tonight–a surge that surprised me today in a timely way. I hope I can coast on this kind of wave for a bit longer now. I could get so much done! If not, I’ll take what I can get as it comes. With each wake up, we’re one day closer. August is already here somehow, and September isn’t trailing far behind…

celebrating the little things with a full heart,

mm

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pocket change. (61)

Back in the day, when everyone carried cash and made change with each transaction, emptying your pockets into a jar at the end of the day was quite the lucrative operation. In months or a year, you might save up hundreds of dollars or more and never feel a thing. That is, until you picked up said jar or took it into the bank; suddenly the weight of collected change was apparent. You could feel the impact of that plinking change, a little bit at a time, amounting to something much greater.

There are days lately when I feel like I’m picking up our change jar time and again.

It can be exhilarating to weigh the coins you’ve collected–payoff for the diligence you’ve made to save and not spend, remembering to pour them out at the end of each day. Change of the other variety can be exhilarating, too, and it can undoubtedly add up to amazing payoffs.

It’s just that trading anything for something else is sacrificial in a way, and sometimes, that’s hard and heavy.

Lately, the list of things we’re trading here feels lengthy, and the payoffs aren’t so instant. Hopefully they’re long term instead.

Maybe I should be keeping a glass jar of change nearby as a visual for this season of our lives, remembering that the impact over time has potential to be really great. There’s a task for the rainy day to do list. 😉

I’m so able to appreciate change that’s visible in the moment, especially when much of my focus right now is on emotional space that isn’t quite as obvious to the naked eye. For the past few days, Jason has spent most of his “spare” time painting our living room. It’s been the same color since we moved in almost eight years ago, and while we liked the old color for a long time, the new color has us wondering why we didn’t decide on the project sooner.

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Fresh paint. Lighter, brighter, and opening up our space to new possibilities.

My appreciation for painting projects has grown over the years, particularly because you can see and feel the difference upon impact. The more time you put in, the more a space is transformed right before you. This is the kind of change that doesn’t collect in a jar, but more like the kind you find in your pocket and run quickly to spend at the candy store. It’s sweet, and instantly gratifying.

When you’re saving a lot of change in a big ‘ol jar for some time down the road, it feels good to mix in a few impromptu stops to spend your spare pennies on something sweet along the way.

Someday the baby that’s growing here in my belly as I type will (hopefully) look back on these days before his or her arrival and smile–so many of the unknown pieces at this moment having fleshed themselves out as good and growing parts of our family story. When I think about it like that, the days and months of collecting a figurative nickel here and an abstract dime there seem worthwhile.

All of this “pocket change” we’re storing up could amount to savings we can’t possibly see or imagine now, so we’ll keep putting change away with hopes for best possible outcomes and character building as we go. Meanwhile, I’m going to take the penny candy and fresh walls as bright spots in the process, appreciating the tangible evidence that sits before me as encouragement to take one day at a time, and counting on the fact that there will be beauty around each new unknown corner and turn.

collecting pennies,

mm

 

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keepers. (62)

Friends see your messes and love you anyway. They look past your misgivings and remind you of who you really are, so that on the hard days, you can remember, too.

Long term friends do this especially well.

They’re the ones who have known you as your past self…immature, confused, still searching for a sense of who you really are and who you are called to become. They can appreciate just how far you’ve walked down bumpy or broken up roads, and they recall memories of just enough of those roads that, when brought to the surface, their memory grows your own appreciation of how far you’ve come.

Long standing friends understand your backstory without a need to dig deep into old junk and heartache.

They feel like home.

Growing up is a painful process sometimes. Even at thirty four, I’m still doing it…still working to become more of who I’m meant to be and less of the sinful self I actually am. I want to be more open, more gracious. Less particular, less intense. I want to be passionate about my first loves, but not over the top. I want to champion the people I love and not compete.

The best friendships reflect my strengths and my misgivings back to me, refining me and making me think more deeply all of the time. This is a crazy gift I can’t replace with anyone or anything else. I’d never want to.

In these later days of pregnancy, when my energy is wearing thin and my patience, even thinner, I am craving the presence of these dear-to-me friendships even more. I realize this every time I’m with them, even though I also walk away wincing at the moments when I got crabby or whiny, when I was short with my kids in front of them, or when I complained about any aspect of this pregnancy even though I really am unbelievably grateful to be right in this season, right where we are.

Thank goodness for grace.

Today we spent the afternoon with a group of people who have known our family a long, long time. These are lifelong friendships that grow and change as we do, and as our families do, too. At one point I looked out over a sea of “littles” who just aren’t all that little any more. The eldest turns nine in a few months.

Jedis. Buddies. Evidence of tried and true friendships and God's sweet grace.

Jedis. Buddies. Evidence of tried and true friendships and God’s sweet grace in our lives.

In this group, our family is bringing up the rear with baby number three (and any subsequent babies, should they be in our future), and it is both beautiful and strange to be the last one pregnant in this mix of amazing friends. The history that each one of our kiddos represents is significant and deep…major life changes surrounding each one of them, and then all of the chapters that have fallen in between.

And my, these kids are amazing. I look at each one of them and think just how fortunate we are that they are healthy, smart, funny, kind, resilient children who are each growing to love the Lord and who genuinely love each other, too. They’re all different in so many ways, and it’s so humbling to be among them.

Their interwoven lives are some of the sweetest fruit that comes from long term, deeply committed friendships like ours. I’m so thankful.

The baby bean is going to join a dynamic crew. He or she will be snuggled and cuddled and doted on and carried around as the baby of the bunch, but no less a part of the mix than the rest–only added to the number in the way that close friends embrace each others’ lives and families and celebrations and messes.

Only in the very best ways.

I need a lot of grace these days. I suppose I always do, but especially as baby grows and I feel clumsy and tired and more worn around the edges of myself than I’d like to be. Without friends like these, I’d be floundering, for sure. But it feels like we’re linking arms and weathering the hard with the good in all areas of our lives instead. What a gift as we each change and grow, and as our families do, too!

so humbled and grateful,

mm

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the emotional to do list. (63)

Maybe it’s because we started out with most of the things we’d need to welcome a new baby this time, but as the weeks go by, I’m noticing that my to do list in prep for baby number three is far more emotion driven and way less about what needs to happen around the house. There’s a list for that, too, and I sure would love to check off some boxes between now and mid-September, but I’m finding myself way more vested in taking care of the things that might make baby’s arrival a more smooth transition for my heart than for our home.

This bleeds into my desire to make things as gentle as possible for Henry and Eloise as they transition in their roles, too.

While tubs of baby clothes are sitting in the attic, wall decor for the nursery is stacked in baby’s closet, and several larger pieces of furniture have yet to shuffle to new spaces as we make room, my mind is much quicker to jump to other things–things like making sure we capture maternity pictures, getting the kids squared away with school and schedules for the fall, and, before baby comes, finishing some writing projects that really matter to me.

I care about the aesthetics of things. I do. I just know that our living room wall color or the replacement dining room rug aren’t going to mean a thing to me if life feels like a complete mess inside my head and heart. So I’m trying to place the energy I do have on being healthy from the inside, out, and letting the chips fall where they may on some of the physical things that would actually be more fun to address in the short term.

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In the exercise of minimizing our clutter and clearing out some physical space this summer, I find myself really challenged to keep decluttering while we get closer to baby’s estimated due date. It’s easy to want to add things to the nursery or to make changes to rooms in the house “before it’s too late and we never get to them,” instead of staying committed to letting more things go. While it’s definitely realistic that some tasks will be held off a bit when focus shifts to a new baby, it’s not as though life doesn’t change again once they’re mobile and more independent. We can certainly get back to projects then, and it’s doubtful anyone else will even notice they were on hold.

Letting go is not my natural tendency. I have to work hard at it. I want things a certain way, and I have visions in mind. Toning down my Pinterest-loving self and just being content with good enough is a stretching exercise for me, so that’s on my emotional list right now as much as anything else.

I’m doing all kinds of evaluating in this space where we’re likely eight or nine weeks out from snuggling our little love. How do I want to spend time with Henry and Eloise between now and then? What matters most to me? What can I do now that I definitely can’t once baby gets here? What are the non-negotiables, and what can wait?

I keep thinking about all of the moms and dads who welcome preemies into the world. Not only do they jump from baby prep mode into parenting mode well in advance, but they suddenly have potential health concerns, hospital bills, work schedules and care for other children to pile on top of the things they hoped to accomplish before baby arrived. Focus shifts from aesthetics to life-impacting choices that we don’t mix into paint colors and stroller styles and coming home outfits when we’re looking down the line to a due date.

More than ever, I really want to maintain perspective as we prep, even while I’m enjoying thoughts of baby getting closer and embracing the joy that comes with little steps toward baby along the way.

I want to be healthy in spirit–almost as much as I want to have a healthy delivery and a perfectly healthy baby. I don’t want to lose sight of the relationships that matter most to me or the things I need to keep in place to stay well myself (prayer, rest, time with the people I love, boundaries, exercise, chances to keep writing, sunshine).

A beautifully appointed, inviting nursery–one that’s just waiting to welcome baby–is a lovely thing. I’d be delighted to have baby’s room looking as I envision it before he or she ever spends time there. But an emotionally stable, sane mama–one who has bandwidth for this new stage that’s coming, for our other littles in tow, and for the curveballs that life throws often–is what I desire more than the completion of any other task or home project.

Heart space first. Physical space after.

I have a feeling baby will be more keenly aware of (and certainly more impacted by) my ability to love well over my ability to decorate well, anyway.

I’m so grateful for this third journey through pregnancy that’s allowing me to see even more of what really matters, and so thankful for the first two that have taught me well along the way. I’m always growing into this ever-changing role of motherhood, good days and bad days and every other kind of day in between.

keeping lists of all kinds while trying to keep myself in check,

mm