MollyMadonna.com

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twenty nine year salute.

Tonight feels monumental. Not just because I’m closing in on the eleventh hour before another birthday, but because I’m saying goodbye to an entire decade. When I wake up in the morning, I will be thirty. Thirty. I’ve been rolling that number around in my head for the past week or so, unsure of what to do with it or think of it. Every year, I tell myself that a birthday is really just 24 hours different from the day before it, but there’s something to the marking of another calendar gone by, and I can’t deny it. A lot can happen from June 2nd of one year to the same date in the next.

The past 366 days have run the gamut. Some have gone on without much instance, but certainly not all. My thirtieth year (age 29) has been a roller coaster of grand proportions–incredible highs and heartbreaking lows and everything in between. I can’t say this about every age (and for this, I’m thankful), but 29 has had its impact. I have watched my baby grow from 11 lbs. to 23 since my last birthday. This time one year ago, he was cooing and starting to smile, but still just a peanut of a babe who needed his mama at every turn. I was dizzy with exhaustion, sometimes overwhelmed, and making a career out of nursing. Today, I am chasing a daring toddler all over town. Occasionally I’m still exhausted, and different things overwhelm, but I am sure as Henry’s mama. I know him inside and out. We have learned each other to a beautiful degree, and I am comfortable in my own skin in this arena of my life. I celebrate, with joy, that I’ll enter my thirties as a blossoming mom–the very best thing that happened to me at 29!

With as much delight as I embrace the good that this past year has had to offer (the above, my sister getting married, anticipating becoming an aunt, our 5th anniversary, celebrating ONE!), I mourn deep losses and still seek to process the hard things that have come–unexpected and utterly challenging to my spirit as I’ve crept ever nearer to the turn of this page. In a way, I am thankful to be drawing closed the chapter that contains them, but in some regard, it’s still hard to see it go. When you lose someone who loves you immeasurably–and who you loved the same, days and months and years passing can be hard; you know you’ll never get them back, and time feels like a reminder that they are gone. I’ve never had a birthday without a card or call from Gramma, and I never wanted this day to come, but it’s here. I know that she is near in many ways, and still, it will never be the same…

Then, there are other things that have both wrecked me and made me more resilient, and 29 seems to be a fairly robust vessel for these. I know that God is working in my life to strengthen me for times to come, yet in the moments, this is never perfectly clear to see. As I rapidly approach a significant and new day tomorrow, I am cognizant that I am the sum of my experiences and whatever God will do with them. If this is a blessing (and I know somehow it is), then 29 has been full and productive. A milestone among milestones. A jumping off point for the decade ahead.

I have been straining a little over the past several days to remember myself an entire ten years ago. I know I could pull out old photos or re-read old journals to get a better picture, but the truth is, I’m ok with the fact that 20, 21, 22…are a slight bit hazier than I expected them to be. I have done a lot of growing in my twenties–or rather, God has done an awful lot of growing me, and the person I was ten years ago is not the same. For this I am most thankful. Closing this segment of my life to enter another feels appropriate, and suddenly (if only in the past 24 hours), even welcome. I have been blessed beyond measure and spared beyond reason.

A friend reminded me today that tomorrow, I will become the age that Jesus was when He started His ministry. Surely, that is something to consider–and to consider well. What will God want to do with me at this age that He has not called me to before now? Somehow, the thought that Christ was most impacting in his life on earth at my age? This could be intimidating, but instead it feels encouraging. God knows what we need, when we need it, and I know He will provide!

Tonight, I’m going to wrap up one heck of a year on the couch with a good (I hope) movie, Jason, and a sleeping babe upstairs. Low key, reflective, and kind of the way my last day of 29 feels like it should be. Tomorrow, as every day, is a new beginning. A glimmering sense of hope and anticipation for what is to come. Goodbye twenty-something, and hello Thirty!

for all that You have given, and all that You have taken away. blessed.

mm

turning thirty. and learning more about love every, single day.

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quiet.

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

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the art of good enough.

Most days when I wake up, my list is far longer than what I’ll have time for in the next 24 hours. I know you can relate. There’s always something else we need to do, want to do, have to do, meant to do…and it never seems possible to check everything off before adding a whole host of new to-dos to the pile.

For the most part, I’m motivated by tasks and the prospect of crossing them off. As someone with a perfectionist-type personality, nothing feels better than seeing the check marks down the line or crumpling up a completed list to toss in the trash. When I’ve crossed something off, it’s only because it’s completely finished–no half-done chores for this girl. That is, up until a year or so ago. It only took me the better part of 28 years on this earth and several years in the workforce to figure out how to best manage my time, to “multitask” (if that’s truly possible), and to plot out a course of action that would leave me satisfied with my movement forward at the end of the day.

Enter mommyhood.

Not even just mommyhood, if I’m being realistic, but pregnancy and being a vessel for a tiny human being…then growing into a blimpish sort of shape that only felt more and more surreal until…experiencing the most physically challenging feat of my life (though I loved it!) and then suddenly becoming a parent (to a tiny and loud and needy little person who demanded all of my attention at every hour of every day for a good number of months). And then there was the whole part about being overjoyed and overwhelmed by nearly every nuance life had to offer for a while, until things started to adjust back to a new normal–you know, the one where work was suddenly home and home was suddenly work and I never had to put on makeup or nice clothes if I didn’t want to (but I wanted to!), because there was really nowhere I needed to go. Then, living room walls and time cuddled on the couch with our precious bundle started to close in on me a little bit, because they were mostly all I saw and did for those first few weeks (months) as a new mom and THAT was overwhelming in a different way.

Did I even keep lists at this point? I’m trying to remember. And yet I recall so very little. Thank goodness I blogged so much in the wee hours then 🙂

So where does that leave me now, this much further on down the road? With an amazing almost-one year old, a life that has settled into itself (in some ways) over the past number of months, and a bajillion lists that I’m trying to cross off and accomplish and achieve because I feel so much like myself again after all this time and this is what I do. Or is it?

Turns out, life right now isn’t nearly as much about lists and all as it is about being present in the moment, about being “mama” when Henry needs me, about being a wife who can listen and a homemaker who manages to keep things mostly tidy (but sometimes, not as much as I’d like). There are one hundred and one to-do’s in my head as I write this, and none of them are on paper. I’m trying to admit to myself that writing them down would be a little easier (because my memory is not 100% of what it was pre-munchkin), but in my mind, writing them down commits me to them–and that’s a whole different stress altogether.

My grand conclusion? I continue to need to work on my ability to be ok with GOOD ENOUGH. For me–and perhaps some of you, it’s an art that I’m nowhere near perfecting. Good enough feels like settling…because it is. But settling, when it brings peace or calm or less heartburn, is actually a good thing, right? I’m just still working on embracing that fact.

Someone is having a birthday next week, and with it, I’m feeling the need/responsibility/burning desire to celebrate him in the grandest way possible, as any mama does when her baby turns one. No doubt it will be a day surrounded by people who love him and who can hardly believe a year has gone by because they’ve watched him change and grow right alongside me. And certainly, the party we’re throwing will be full of fun things and cake and good food and such, but the details in between might just have to be…whatever they are by then. This admittance doesn’t mean I’ll be trying less over the next week to prepare, but it does mean that I’ll be making the effort to ease the stress that undoubtedly could accompany such an undertaking for someone like me.

I’ll be taking a few more deep breaths, that’s for sure. And working hard to keep the right amount of perspective in the mix as I go: Henry will only remember how we loved him in this season–not how perfect or imperfect the celebration of a certain birthday turned out to be.

Oh, the art of good enough. I’m chasing after you…just as soon as I jot you down on my list 😉

in practice,

mm

p.s. Stay tuned! Birthday details are underway, and this space is gonna fill up with them if I can help it!

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a letter for springtime.

Dear Gramma,

I picked up the phone to call you today. Hank and I were on one of our sunny afternoon drives back from visiting with friends, and for just a moment, I thought about how you’d answer and we’d talk the rest of the way home. “And how’s Henry?” you would have asked me–remarking just how big he’s getting in all of his pictures and how much he looks like Jason more and more all the time. I’d tell you about Henry’s birthday party (“invite’s in the mail!”) and all the pomp and circumstance we’re planning for our little bug who’s nearly walking and talks all the day long.

Undoubtedly, we would have moved on to the weather next–how beautiful a Spring it’s been, and what a perfect day and temperature for this early on in April.  You’d fill me on family things, who’s traveling where and moving when, who’s expecting, had a baby, been sick, getting better. And I would laugh at the little things, all the while drinking in the time with you down to the very last drop–the “I love you, Gramma” and the “Love you, too, Sweetie,” and the click goodbye.

Everywhere I turn this week, it seems, you are there. Present in the tulips standing boldly in the sunshine, the robin perched on the fence through the kitchen window, the wafting scent of perfect Korean Spice blossoms, uncurling on every bush in the front yard. You’ve felt so close in moments, I could almost burst. And more than I wanted to imagine it–over the quiet moments when I’m left to think all alone, over the sweet spaces when I look at Henry or sit with Jason and recall the promises I made to you that I’d, “Be a good mom…Be a good wife,” I am overcome by your absence. In all of the beautiful things around me that you carefully taught me to love, the sting of missing you is suddenly so great…and I hope–in a good way, that somehow you know. I hope now you can see the indelible mark that you made on my heart over all those years.

Easter is only four days away, and as it arrives, I’m left to remember Easter afternoon last year–how we were talking on the phone when my labor with Henry began. How many beautiful days like that one have we taken to celebrate together as a family, always drawing near in the ways we could to be together? I’m so thankful we have so many to recount…I’m afraid I don’t know yet how to have them without you.

I keep trying to hold back the emotion that comes with great loss, as if there are rules about how we grieve and remember–how we carry on when a piece of ourselves feels broken off, washed away. I catch myself warding off tears and wondering why I’m trying so hard to swallow it down instead of letting it just come over me like a wave. I’m not perfect in any other way, so why would I attempt at being flawless in this? I know that you would understand and tell me it’s ok. You’d probably know before I ever got to you that something was the matter, have cookies and coffee waiting for me when I arrived so we could just talk. Just talk. We really knew how to do that, you and I. Didn’t we? Goodness, I miss you. I really, really do.

I’m so thankful for all of the reminders God is sending me along the way as time goes on–even if my breath catches when a butterfly lands and lingers nearby, or when the tears come unexpectedly as Henry and I dance around the living room. It’s a good thing, how many sweet instances bring me right back to who you were and what you loved and exactly what you meant to me. Thank you for all of the ways you always (and still do. See?!) brought me joy.

a bushel and a peck,

molly

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status update.

My world has been devoid of Facebook for 24 days, and I can honestly say that I only miss it slightly. What humors me (and frightens at the same time), is that I consistently find myself thinking in status updates. Lacking a place to deposit them, I’ve come to terms with the fact that if I think in status updates on a regular basis, I probably needed the “break” more than I realized.

When it comes down to it, Facebook connects me to a world of adults I would otherwise have little contact with on a daily basis. Status updates, I’m fairly certain, are a stay-at-home mom’s way of knowing someone else is out there, relating to the latest nap frustration or diaper snafu. It’s not the only way we connect, of course, but it’s the most accessible between playtimes and feedings, household chores and mommy demands. I never imagined it would become such a community, nor did I imagine it would turn into the “fluff” of life–so easily accessible from my phone, whenever there was a break in the action.

What on earth did we ever used to do with our down time? 😉

I know it would be rash to delete my FB account entirely at the end of this Lenten season, but it’s somewhat temping when I consider how much else I’ve done, read, rested, researched and reflected since the fast began. I have been missing birthdays left and right, which makes me feel like a bad friend, and on multiple occasions now, I’ve missed the latest viral fill-in-the-blank due to my absence. Gasp! I am so out of touch. Henry may one day be mortified to know how very “in the dark” I’ve become.

To live without the book of faces feels oddly primitive. Kind of a turning back of time in my life to a place where I once had whole minutes or hours to devour a good book or to go to bed before the wee hours crept along. And yet, here I am, and I’m thankful for it. I needed the discipline for a bit, and I still need it for the next few weeks. I’m hoping that by then, FB and I will have gone to our corners–and that we’ll be able to renegotiate on more reasonable terms. How did we ever get here in the first place? Sometimes (ok, a lot of the time) the world we live in (and the things we/I spend our time doing in it) really scares me.

Thank goodness God honors even the little steps we take. It’s a beautiful thing.

The valuable gem I would have likely shared in that ghostly status window tonight? I just found out, after 8 years of ordering pizza with the man, that my husband orders green peppers over red for the color. Hm. And to think I’ve been ordering green peppers unnecessarily all this time…

There. Now that feels better.

living in a status free state for a while longer,

mm