A City of Us

I always dreamed of moving to a bigger city after high school. Somewhere fashionable, overpopulated and absolutely thriving on chaos. Like New York or San Francisco. I thought that was the kind of place that would make me happy, because you could do anything. At any time of day or night. Anywhere. I mean, the possibilities would be endless right? And I could've done it. It isn't that I came from a small town. Certainly, it was no New York though. ;) I'm sure it would have been a thrilling experience. But in the end, it would never have sunk down into my soul in the way that I needed it to at that time in my life.

And so I fled fast and far away from my own little city life to the Midwest with Mr. B. Surely, I would find happiness in a slower paced, smaller town? A different scene than I was used to?

Again, I was missing something. Some integral piece of me was not clicking into place. The truth was that I wasn't happy in Wichita. I was restless and bored and a little lonely at times. I didn't get it. Where did I belong? We moved and we moved and we settled here and there. And each place held some great things and some not so great things and sometimes I was content and sometimes I wasn't. I could never quite put my finger on it. The question on my mind: How do I get to this happy place? This ideal in my mind of where I should be living out the rest of my days.

It took me a few years, but I think I finally get it.

You see, an hour ago, I got the most intense urge to get in my car and go. Just go. The sun was just beginning to set and the breeze was just right and the day's heat was starting to lessen. And I thought to myself, I must go. So I left under the pretense of getting ice cream (which let's be honest, wasn't so much a pretense as an added bonus after a good cruise around town). I opened the sunroof and rolled all the windows down. I poked around radio stations until I found the right song and I turned it all the way up. And I just drove.

Out of my neighborhood and down through the countryside. Past the cows, overlooking hills in the distance. I passed the horses grazing in the fields and the sunset was the perfect backdrop. It would have been a priceless picture, but all I could do was mentally soak it in. I breathed in the smell of freshly mowed grass (my favorite Summer smell) and I let my hair get all messy while the wind whipped it around. I sang with my heart in it.

In that moment, it all clicked together. I realized that this is it. This is as good as it gets. This is the good stuff right here. And it has taken me years to find that place in my soul, but finally I've stumbled across it and I'm going to hold onto this moment like there's no tomorrow, because this? Right here? Is perfect.

And it's not about concrete jungles or fashion or small towns or fast or slow paces. It has nothing to do with what side of the country I'm on or even what continent.

It is a hillside at sunset. It's the feeling of simultaneously being so big and so small. Of feeling infinite against an endless horizon and driving through a tunnel of enormous shady trees. It is hearing the crickets at night, the birds chirping in the morning and seeing a vast array of stars at midnight. It is children laughing down the street, playground swings creaking and parents reminding little ones that they have to come in when the street lamps come on. It is the knowledge that nothing, absolutely nothing, is open 24/7 and there's a certain thrill in the creativity that ensues. It is the fun one can have if there is. It is the friends and the family and the significant others that add the laughs, the support, the love. 

It is me, sitting on my back porch while the wind swirls round and the only light left is the illumination of my laptop screen as I type this.

It is understanding that most of the time, I am in charge of creating my own happiness, but that sometimes happiness finds me when I'm not even looking. In knowing that we are all connected across this planet, whether we are near or far. 

And that's really all that my soul needed after all. 

Wow. Just Wow.

These boys of mine are growing. We're talking like must've happened overnight kind of things. R was all over the place this morning, just being so....grown up. For months, there was just no real sign of progress. He could sit up kind of and then he started sliding backwards around the living room. And that was great and everything, but I've been on the lookout for the big things. You know, the imminent signs of baby turned toddler. This morning, we've officially moved one step closer.

Take the walker for example:

Handling it like a boss. Really getting around the place now and consequently getting into a lot more now too. ;)

He also started pulling himself up on the toy box to get to the other toys earlier. Really? Two big boy leaps in one day? Someone hold me. 

And L. Don't even get me started on that ham. He can converse with the best of them. His broad vocabulary range both surprises me at times and pleases me to no extent. My favorite these days: "Love you mama." 

Oh yes, exciting times are upon us.

A Beautiful Life

Our weekend wasn't spent doing anything particularly glamorous. That is, unless you find wild-haired, no make-up days spent painting glamorous. Then I guess it could be. I spent all Saturday transforming our room from pink explosion to muted blue greys. It was really lovely outdoors, yet a small price to pay to finally claim the space.

The bathroom is still pink. There is still work to be done. We have many, many great ideas for decorating which I'll be excited to share in the coming weeks. But for now, we're a step closer to perfect.

The word perfect makes me laugh sometimes. You know, there is an inner perfectionist begging for an A+. Whether it be decorating, parenting, loving. But the big lesson; potentially the hardest yet, has been that perfect is in the eye of the beholder. And so really, everything I do or touch may end up a total mess, but as long as it's perfect to me, it's truly okay. 

Which brings me to Mother's Day. Scrolling through Facebook or Twitter, it would seem that the more one receives, the bigger and better the gifts, the more homemade or the more extravagant are an honest measure of how special a mother is. 

Total malarky, I say.

                               

The boys got me flowers. We all went to lunch. Then Mr. B took us to Lowes for wood to make our headboard in the bedroom. The weather was gorgeous. I wore my favorite hat with a long, messy side braid. L and I daydreamed that the fancy sheds in the parking lot were our future clubhouses. One even had a storage loft which was totally the cat's pajamas. R was content to be carried around in the Baby Bjorn. It was nothing grandiose. There were still those every day challenging moments with the boys-one fiercely independent, the other assuming the role of exact opposite. I even had to raise my voice when L figured out how to bust open the safety handle on the door and escape into the front yard. And at the end of it all, when Mr. B and I were laying next to each other, he said, "I hope we made your day good." 

They make it good simply by being in it. Even the worst days are the best when we end it together.

I sometimes think of our pre-kid days. I think of the moment we decided we wanted to start a family and the months preceding that positive pregnancy test. The feeling so vivid of taking the test and jumping in the shower, an electric hum coursing through my veins. I knew even before I took it. I remember the pure joy and the long months of waiting, wishing and hoping for my baby boy to finally make his way into my arms. Of Mr. B and I daydreaming about who he would look like-if he would have my eyes or Mr. B's smile. And when the day finally came and he made his grand debut, everything I ever thought I knew about anything evolved so rapidly that I barely had time to breathe. My love for him was indescribable. 

19 months later, another beautiful baby boy again changed my life. Altered the very core of my being. I think of how it felt to hold these tiny bundles in my arms for the first time or feel their breaths as they snuggled into my neck and my heart just hurts from the sheer volume of love pumping through my body.

I was made for them. I was put here on this Earth to love and care for them. To shelter them from harm, to teach them humility and compassion. To be supportive and offer a little humor. To kiss away bumps and bruises for as long as they need me to. To be the light at the end of each dark tunnel. 

I was made to be their mother. And they were meant to be my saving grace.

So yes, it was a good Mother's Day. It was perfect. ;)

Happy 8 Months R!

Baby Bean,

Where has the time gone? Someone asked me the other day how old you were. After I said, "almost 8 months", I froze. Really? 8 months already? Not a chance. So I ran the numbers again and this time I used my fingers and spoke the months aloud, counting as I went. Despite my brain's protests, it indeed summed up the same way: You're growing up too fast.

With L, it felt like each month moved downstream like a lazy river. We took our time. When he reached the big 1 year mark, I was only a little surprised to find myself there. I didn't feel as if I had missed anything. You...well, that's a different story.

Perhaps it's possessing the knowledge that you are the last baby for me that amplifies the feeling that I'm somehow getting jipped of this whole baby phase. Or maybe it's that with L running from sun up to sun down, some of your growing is being done while I'm chasing after him. But either way, it leaves me sad.

You are the happiest, sweetest little boy I've ever had the privilege of loving. Your pearly white grin, stretching ear to ear, melts my heart. I love the way you talk and the way your eyes light up when you're watching your big brother. I love that even when L gets a little snippy with you, you laugh like he's the funniest person on Planet Earth. I love your curiosity and the way you shove three crunchies in your mouth at the same time. I love those chubby little hands that do the shoving. And even though it can prevent me from getting things done at times, I do love that when you're in someone else's arms, you watch me the whole time, making sure I come back soon.

R, you are just simple and laid-back and unfazed by the hustle and bustle. Some people wonder why you're not really crawling yet when L was walking at your age. I get a little irritated with them, because it's not relative. Here's the hard truth R. For the rest of your life, you will always be compared to your brother. When you were first born, I was so adamant about shielding you from the absurdity of entering into some trumped up competition. You are not L. You are you. And although you have grown within the same womb, share the family bloodline and have some similar physical characteristics, you are two separate people. There will always be some things that he is better at and some that you are. There will be times when it probably feels as if you're just following in his footsteps as he's the typical first child paving the way, but I hope that you never feel as if you're destined to stand in his shadow. 

You're not.

But the bigger lesson to learn is this:

There will be many times in your life that you will look over at the person next to you in the rat race  and stack your merits and flaws against theirs. Sometimes you will find that you're ahead, other times behind. If I could offer you one piece of advice, it would be to exit the rat race as gracefully as you can and walk confidently in the direction of your own choosing. 

Eventually, you will understand that competition isn't worth a dime in the grand scheme of life. What matters if your happiness and your satisfaction with a life well lived. 

You are destined for great things my love. That is a fact. :)

xoxoxoxoxoxoxxooxoxxoxoooxxoxoxoxxoxoxoxxo,

Mama

Oh, a Little of This & That

The blogging world apparently has a Write Every Day in May Challenge that I wasn't aware of. All the cool kids are doing it! I missed yesterday's prompt, but I wanted to go ahead and do it anyway today. The task was to list your favorite blogger and send some blog love. 

But I don't simply have one. I have a few that I realllly like-like really. I like them for different reasons-whether they're funny, insightful, eloquent. If they're told from a single, married, childless, childrearing stage. I don't discriminate. If you make pretty sentences, I'm in! ;)

But in the spirit of at least attempting to follow the rules, I'll narrow down to some of my favorites. (in no particular order)

1. Nat the Fat Rat

2. Nested

3. Sara in Le Petit Village

4. The Wild and Wily Ways of a Brunette Bombshell

5. The Silent Isle

I immensely enjoy reading each of these blogs because of the different perspectives. Because they are all brave and beautiful and write so very well. The amazing thing about being apart of such a community of bloggers is finding a connection in each story, whether or not it directly relates to our own. These ladies are talented. Feel free to click over to their respective pages and show them some love. :)

Last note here: I threw my hat into the ring for BlogHer Voices of The Year 2013 and would love your vote! Voting ends May 15th, so click on over through here and vote for me. I would be so honored to be chosen for this award. 

As always, thank you for continuing this journey with me. I can't wait to see what's ahead!