MollyMadonna.com

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sandwich pass. (15)

We are too hard on ourselves as moms, you know that? Feeling somewhat inadequate in my ability to provide energetic or enthusiastic interaction for Henry and Eloise as of late, I do spend an inordinate amount of time warding off guilt–for this and for a whole host of other things I’m “not getting done” and/or “not doing well” at the moment.

I think I’m better than I used to be about chalking up my motherhood misgivings, but it’s still hard every day. When there are little people counting on you (and especially when they become old enough to vocalize their displeasure), it’s a real challenge to put down the thought that there’s so much more we could be or should be as mamas. And it’s not a monthly or annual challenge, it’s a daily thing (at least, for me).

Everyone on social media everywhere is serving up the latest seasonal vegetable extravaganza from the CSA, and you know what? That’s a beautiful thing. Healthy eating=healthy kiddos, and I’m all about that. It feels good to put a home cooked, protein and fiber-filled meal in front of my family, for sure. But when I just don’t have it in me (because it’s been a long day or a long week or a long everything), I have to work extra hard not to feel guilty about it. There’s something about feeding your family well that feels amazing.

You know what felt amazing tonight?

Feeding my kids sandwiches and fruit and pickles for dinner because it’s what I had it in me to do. Know what we had for lunch? A variation on the same thing. Guess what miraculous thing happened tonight? No one complained at the dinner table, everyone cleared their plates, bellies were full and I hadn’t spent an hour or more at the stove. Winning. Thirty eight weeks along and winning, that’s what.

Also, I carried no guilt away from the table. Why? Because there is grace in every crevice if you look to find it, and tonight, grace came in the form of ten minutes of dinner prep and happy kiddos at the end of the meal.

Why do we let ourselves carry guilt so heavily when there is so much grace?

I am admittedly nearing the end of my capacity to be above average in much else besides rocking an incredibly full belly and growing a human right now. My body is very definitely getting ready for the windup, and it’s both a joy and a challenge to keep my chin up about what I’m physically feeling every day.

The kids are completely over me toting this baby around inside, and I can’t blame them for a second. There’s all of this anticipation and then so much waiting (especially when you’re three and five years old). Eloise is most excited that in a few weeks I’ll be able to hold her in my lap and to bend over. Bless her. I’m super excited about those things, too. Henry is trying so hard to be brave and bold and the big brother. He is doing an amazing job, and I am not being as gracious toward him as I’d hope to be. We are weathering this together, but he is so tired of it, and that’s so fair.

I love all three of these babies with all of my heart and want to do best by all of them. Isn’t that the challenge of motherhood forever and ever? We always want to be our best selves for our families, not letting anyone down. I am so thankful for the way God built the family unit–that we might all lift each other up when we’re powering through, giving us grace to take turns in needing more sometimes and less in others.

Tonight I threw my “sandwiches for dinner” pass out on the table and there was grace abundant. Eloise used her “I’m too shy for ballet right now” play, and Henry employed his “I roar at my sister right now because I’m processing so much and that’s what I can manage sometimes” card. And our day was a perfectly imperfect attempt to love each other well and to make concessions, even through our own discomforts and worries and hard things.

This pregnancy continues to reiterate just how much we all need grace and how much there is for the taking. When we set eyes on this almost-here baby and know that we’re just that much more complete together, it will be grace again, in abundant measure, that moves us forward into the next wild chapter as a family. My heart is full of anticipation for it.

the sweetness will be so sweet,

mm

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moods and ‘tudes. (20)

All the feels are coming out around here, folks. Not just mine, but everyone’s. The kids are squirrelier than ever: we’ve lost all sense of the word STOP (and also the words NO and DON’T and even the obvious HEY!). For two very agreeable children, this phase is really something. It’s not just being five or three that’s doing it, it’s clearly the baby bump. Both H and E are excited, but there are definitely all kinds of nerves and apprehensions just below the surface.

Eloise has morphed into the shyest girl I know. She is a firecracker around here and with family, but with friends and strangers, warming up these days is somewhat off the table. She hides behind me when I ask her to say hello, or really when I address her at all in front of others. She does not like to be the center of attention in any way…until she does, which is a little hard for me to follow lately. Once she turns it on, it’s the Ellie Jo Show all day long. I love her spunk and energy. I just don’t quite know what to do with the clinging behind my back. Shoot. I can’t even reach her there these days! Where is the “crying like waterworks because you’re laughing so hard” emoji when I need it?

Henry shifts from being about the most helpful and gentle soul on the planet into total boyhood-ninja-warrior-storm-trooper-I-just-ate-all-of-the-sugar mode in no time flat…without any sugar. He talks about the baby and meeting the baby, and he stops what he’s doing to come over and kiss my belly at least a few times a day. He is caring and doting, then spitting and making wild animal noises; loving his sister well and then getting under her skin in every possible way…and there’s no telling how or when or why one reaction will take precedence over the other. I’m tearing my hair out just a tad trying to brace myself for whatever emotion is coming next. It’s an adventure.

 

As for Jason and me, well, we’re tired. And honestly a bit worn. And ready to meet this baby…but not quite…and back again. I could cry at most things, but I don’t, because who has time for that? I’ve become very pragmatic about a lot of things, and definitely more charged about others.

On a daily basis, I have an uncanny number of people make comments to me about how I look, or how soon this baby is going to fall out of me, or that I can’t possibly stay pregnant a minute longer, and truly, it is taking every bit of grace in my bones not to just let people know how I really feel about that.

It’s not as if I don’t know I have a baby in there and look like I’m ready to give birth soon (interestingly, I do, and I am). It’s more that every other stranger is either glaring and saying nothing (the better option, I guess), or saying something as if they can’t hold it in a second longer. Seems like they should all be less worried about my water breaking and more worried about the stream of consciousness plummeting out of their mouths, no?

Just being real and all.

This is the best and hardest part of pregnancy all at once. We’re so close, and I want to just suspend this period of time so I never lose the feeling and anticipation of knowing our baby will be here soon. It’s the very best. On the flip side, I feel like I’m losing my edge over here in most ways…as a mama to our other two, as a human capable of normal physical activity, as an evenly keeled, emotionally stable person who has grace enough for everyone. Hello, baby number three. You are a marvel and a mystery and one of the hardest, most rewarding experiences I’ve ever faced.

We are getting there.

Just not without wild moods throughout the house and four people juggling so much love for each other and such a great need for personal space at the same time. Life feels raw, and maybe that’s good.

I’m thrilled to be here, and perfectly happy to be honest about the hardest parts, too. I hope someday my daughter (or daughters?) or daughter(s)-in-law will read this when they’re pregnant and know that they are normal for having all of the feelings at once. If this is not almost thirty eight weeks pregnant and normal, I don’t know what is 😉

love from the little (emotionally charged) blue house,

mm

 

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if walls could talk. (31)

If walls could talk, mine would undoubtedly have stories to add to this record of days. They would tell of the roller coaster ups and downs between fretting and joy. They would share of my indecision in moments, my complete decisiveness in others. They would communicate constant changes in movement–the slow, paced, calculated roll out of bed at all hours, the stretching and pacing and rushing and resting, the quick flitting-about when I get focused on a project or idea and am determined to make it happen.

They would say I am up way too late and thinking about way too much.

And then they would say that this is me, not just pregnancy, but magnified by these nine months in ways both hard and good.

They would be so very honest.

I could kiss these walls. The same ones that have kept out cold and kept in comfort for the past eight years of our lives. The walls that have welcomed us home, welcomed two babies, made space and room for each of us as we’ve grown, celebrated, mourned, waited…

I have a habit of paying better attention to the windows a lot of days–to what’s happening beyond them, to what they have to tell about our little plot in the world, about neighbors passing by, about life moving on the other side of the glass. When looking at others is easier, the windows make for very good friends.

But the walls? They hold in our guts. They know all that we are made of and all that we dream of and all that we fear, and they’re what really ride the highs and lows right along with us. Load-bearing, I think we might say.

They are consistent and forgiving and marked and aging, and I am so grateful.

A few weeks from now, the walls and I will have new stories–ones no one else will ever read or hear, save for the few anecdotal moments that make their way to the page, the photos that find their place on instagram. Those will likely be the quiet ones. The peaceful minutes or hours snuggling with baby and captured so I never forget the sweetness that comes with life, fresh from God.

The loud ones though? The ones where our babe is inconsolable–or I am, when there are tears flowing or kids screaming or big conversations happening in the wee hours, when life offers slivers of time for connection over sleep? Those, these walls will keep. And someday, if we should move on from here and from the space I have loved and called home for the better balance of a decade so far? Someday these walls will still store my secrets and my delights, the painful moments and the bittersweet.

Like God and no one else, they will have witnessed every part of who I am and will love me steadfastly anyway. I am better for being within them; they have been so good to me.

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in and out of each day with gratitude, on beautiful, borrowed time,

mm

 

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nesting instinct. (32)

Oh, hi, little nesting instinct of mine. I remember you. But I’d forgotten just how fast you came to town and how quickly you’d set up residence again here in my midst. I know nothing these days if not the 1,002 things I’d love to tackle and accomplish in the next 3-4 weeks.

Thankfully, you motivate me. I should be exhausted tonight after four hours with the kids at the pool on the heels of a busy weekend, but instead you’ve got my brain on a hamster wheel. It’s fascinating how you work.

Everywhere I look, there is something to do. And you make me very practical, which is nice. Nope, no time for that. Yep, that’s a must. No…wait until the A list is complete first. Yes, bump that one up to the top of the pile. Every day there’s more to do in one category and less in another. And the beautiful thing is, baby is going to come in his or her timing whether I’ve completed every list or none, anyway.

I’m so glad that your presence here in my world helps me to prioritize things like milking the summer with the kiddos for all it’s worth while we can, but also nudges me to vacuum every day and a half. (Ok, I don’t really like the vacuuming part, but it’s a good reminder to try a little harder at least). Jason has a thing about the baby and dog hair, and I think it’s catching, because now when I see traces of our four legged creature anywhere, I just want the evidence gone immediately. Nesting instinct, if I give up on the dog because of you, there are small people in this house who will never forgive me. Reign it in on that one, ok?

In spite of our family’s continued efforts to reduce what we have in the house, and although we have tossed, sold, donated or recycled well over 1,000 items since May, your influence makes me see things everywhere that I want to ditch so badly. I’m trying to be realistic, and most of the time, that means “I’ve not seen or used this in way too long. Adios.” Hallelujah for this baby growing business to result in an intense need to purge my life and space, too. Bonus!

Remember this, old friend? Progress, not perfection. Even though perfection would suit us both right about now.

Remember this, old friend? Progress, not perfection. Even though perfection would suit us both right about now.

If we can work together well for just a few weeks longer, I think I could really start to feel great about welcoming baby into the newly organized and cleared out spaces we’ve made together. To the benefit or detriment of the rest of the fam right now, you’ve got me on a serious mission. It feels good, and I like it.

Pretty soon, we’ll pull out some of the baby gear again, and new/old things will make their way back into the living room, our bedroom, the kitchen, my purse…so long as there is a place for every thing, I’ll be quite delighted. And if we can somehow accomplish “everything in its place,” I think we’ll have supernaturally made a giant leap over the reality of a house with small humans running through it, which would be something for your record books, for sure.

Lastly, I’m all about this non-caffeinated burst of energy that has me puttering and processing and scheming organizationally all throughout the day, but I’m thinking sleep might be a pretty good plan at this point, too. Let’s see if you and I can strike a happy medium, ok? There’s going to be a premium on fully leaded sleep around here awfully soon, and I wouldn’t mind a little stockpile 😉

Thanks for being you, nesting instinct. No doubt God created you, and for good reason.

lining up all of the ducks (although the kids prefer them in the bathtub, and they’ll likely move them back again before I can blink, just FYI),

mm

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just keep swimming. (33)

I like Dory. In spite of her lack of short term memory, she’s pretty wise. Can you hear her humming to herself right now? “Hmm, hm, hm, hm, hm, hmmmm, hmmmm.” She approaches life with joy, excitement, possibility, and plenty of hope. Who wouldn’t love to be a little more like Dory some days?

My memory is ridiculous right now, so I’m channeling my inner Dory on multiple fronts. Laundry in the wash? Oh, that’s right. Plenty of x,y or z in the house but I put it on the grocery list anyway? Yep. It’s not even all that frustrating, really. Just funny to be so out of my own mind in moments that I can think about the deep, detailed things, but not the small, everyday things. That’s pregnancy and motherhood and life and summer talking all at once.

Just keep _____ could be my motto for everything right now:

Just keep resting. Just keep organizing. Just keep having patience with yourself. Just keep loving your kids well. Just keep praying. Just keep showing up. Just keep swimming…

Yes, even swimming is on the list these days. Ask the kiddos. I did as many summersaults and handstands in the pool today as I could. (We’re going to get this baby in the right position, yet, I tell you.)

And you know what? Of all of the things I’ve done this weekend to move us along in the right direction toward baby? I think swimming with the kids was probably the winner. I didn’t even want to go, honestly. I mean, 35.5 weeks pregnant and a swimsuit aren’t my favorite duo. But it was too hot to stay out of the water, so in I went. And I had some of the best, most treasured times with H and E that I’ve had all week…maybe longer. They thought mom doing summersaults in the pool was awesome (it doesn’t take much to impress, I guess). But we laughed and splashed and the sun and water were good for all. I only wish I could ask baby what he or she thought of my antics, but time will tell.

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Just keep swimming. This applies to me, but I imagine it applies to you, too, in whatever season you’re facing right now. Just keep doing the thing that moves you forward, whether it’s big or small. Put on that swimsuit and jump into the pool–literal or figurative, without caring what you look like to anyone else, and so as not to miss out on what life might have for you in the next moment.

Keep on. Dory would agree, I’m sure of it.

hmm, hm, hm, hm, hm, hmmmm, hmmmm,

mm