Celebrating the victories.

The day was long.

I mean, it was one of those long days. And we were in the middle of it. There was so much to do, so much I'd already done, and the time was slipping away faster than the early spring daylight.

Over the last few months, we've tasked ourselves with more than a handful of special projects, focusing on their completion, sometimes wearily after the completion of our day jobs. After we put the little one to bed and when most people would be sinking into their sofas with a good book or the most recent binge-worthy show, we were in front of our laptops, desk lamps illuminating whatever it was we were working on at the time. The clock would tick, our eyelids would feel the gravity of the day pulling them closed, and we worked until we weren't doing these projects justice. 

The alarm clock would cheerily sing in the morning, and we'd do it all again the next day. Projects have deadlines, people.

The Climb.

It was feeling like we were climbing a mountain that we couldn't see the top of. We didn't know if there was a top, if the effort would be worth the climb. But we were climbing that mountain, damn it, because opportunities to be your creative selves (with your husband, doing stuff you both love) don't come every day. But that mountain, it was steep. Who am I kidding....it still is. And we had to climb the mountain after Elsie was in bed because if we didn't, if we prioritized time to work over time with her, well...we might miss out on a beautiful moment, or in this case, learn something about ourselves that we really needed to know.

So on this early spring day, between the breakfast battles and the bathtime bubbles, the sun made a rare appearance. "Outside, Mama, outside." For you moms-of-toddlers out there, you will feel me when I say I blame that phrase on the Bubble Guppies and now it will be stuck in your heads, too. Anyway, we put on our boots and jackets and headed outside.

"Line up, line up. Everybody line up. It's time to go outside." See, there it is.

In our particular outside, we are lucky to have a few acres of land, which my husband has manicured into a motocross track, mini bike track, and go-kart track. These activities and experiences are part of why our land is deemed Lancaster Land. Elsie and I walk the ups and downs of the track, splashing in mud puddles and weaving in and out of the tall pine trees. 

We come to one of the jumps. We walk up, slowly, hand-in-hand. She looks at me, throws her hands in the air and exclaims, "Mama, I DID IT! I DID IT, Mama."

She sure did.

I looked down at her blonde curls, her grin stretching across her two-year-old face, and the pride beaming from her body. She did it. She was proud and I was proud of her. What seems like such a usual feat, a small hurdle to me, was worth celebrating to her. She felt a victory, and together we celebrated. 

And then I started thinking as we continued on our trek up and down and around, and back again. I was reflecting on all of my work lately, my accomplishments, and the work that the hubs and I had completed. I thought about the big goals and the small wins and even the losses that stung so hard.

I thought to myself, I want to be more like my two-year-old.

I want to celebrate the small victories. I want to climb a small hill on the path to climb the big mountain and I want to feel that win. Even though the summit might be so far away that I can't even see it, I want to celebrate the victory and take a moment to just feel good about where I'm at, not focusing on where I'm going. Although the next steps and the action plans and the to-do-lists will always be charging fast at you, the immediate feel-good, pat-on-the-back celebrations need to be slowed down for.

Every day, there's a reason to stand up, throw our hands in the air, and say (even if it's just to ourselves), I did it.

XOXO

The Infant Period - What I wish I knew

Our little girl is teetering on 18 months old, and just now do I find myself emerging from the heavy fog of having a newborn, infant and the introduction to toddlerhood.

And friends, the fog was so heavy. It was unlike anything I've ever experienced. It was full of joy and exhaustion and sprinkled with fear and embraced by love. It was a literal smorgasbord of emotions and now that I'm here, in today's moment, watching our toddler laugh and play and run and explore and learn both the good and the not-so-good, I have a few things to share with the world. There is so much advice spilling out of just about everywhere when it comes to pregnancy, motherhood and relationships, it's overwhelming. I am not looking to give advice. Honestly, in before my entry into this new world, I didn't want advice either. What I would have liked was a friendly heads-up about a few core things. So, to my friends near and far, here is a list of a few things I wish someone would have told me before becoming a mom.

What I wish I knew:

1. It will be over before you even remember to remember. This one really got me. The hours in the first few days and months seemed to drag on. I was exhausted. Even though I was surrounded by people, I felt like it was just me and my baby, alone in the world, without a clue of what to do. I felt like I was living in those moments forever. But I didn't, and we can't. The beautiful moments go by so fast, and it's not fair because when we're in the heavy fog, it's too hard to remember those precious times alone with our newborn babies. It's not fair, but it will be over before you even remember to remember, so try really really hard to create some concrete memories before they're gone.

2. Breastfeeding is hard. I remember before our little girl arrived, thinking for awhile that it's natural and we'll know what to do and it will be easy. And then I heard some real-life stories and started scouring YouTube for instructional videos to prepare. It didn't help. Nobody told me just how hard it was going to be, how much work it would be to get a correct latch and how much pain I would be in as the baby and I figured out how to do this together. I remember waiting on hold with my advice nurse, thinking something was surely wrong with me, as I was on the verge of tears because I couldn't do it and it just hurt so bad. And then I got answers. I did it. We figured it out. But, breastfeeding is hard. And if you can't do it, or if your baby won't eat, it doesn't mean you're a bad mom, or you're unfit to parent. It just means that it's hard, and finding another way to nourish your baby just might be the perfectly right answer for you.

3. Not sleeping is hard. Before we entered into parenthood, my husband and I had plenty of late nights followed by early mornings. We enjoyed an occasional night out closing down the local dive bar, or staying up late with friends, sometimes on weeknights (gasp!) when we had to wake up early for work the next day. When people told me "you won't sleep", I thought I got it, but I didn't. I had never been so tired, that midway to the grocery store, I had to turn my car around and gohome, because I knew being behind the wheel at such a level of exhaustion was dangerous. There's a very big difference between being up all night because you want to, and being up all night because you have to care for your little baby, who may be crying, or happy, or sick, or just "up" - whatever the reason, the level of tired that follows is unlike anything I've ever known. And it's not just one night, it can be night after night after night sometimes, and you don't get to sleep in or sleep it off. You have to wake up cheery, ready to welcome the day with your baby. So far, this hasn't stopped for me. I wish you better luck.

4. Relationships get challenged. Someone should have warned me and my husband that we'll probably take our exhaustion and our frustration out on each other sometimes. That small things might manifest into bigger things and that the amount of under-my-breath commentary that I would direct/not direct at him would hit a breaking point. But it was because I was hitting a breaking point, and instead of being passive aggressive, the answer is to just ask for more help. We are superwomen, but even Batman has his Robin and we need to find the "sidekick" in all of our relationships. Friends, family, spouses - they know we need support. It's up to us to let those people in.

5. You'll become a different person with different priorities. I know, people do tell you how much things will change once you have kids. For me, things didn't really change as much as I, myself, changed. I don't prioritize the things I used to. It's clear that our family is priority one, and I'd rather stay at home on a Saturday night snuggling my baby and watching a movie with my husband. I don't even know what the cool bars are in town and that's fine with me. It's not that the world changed, but it's that I changed. And it's not a bad thing, it's an amazing and positive growth that I'm proud of.

6. Everyday tasks are hard, and you'll be late most of the time. How do I go grocery shopping with this newborn? I honestly remembering asking a friend about the logistics of grocery shopping. Should I wear her? Where does the car seat fit in the cart? What if she cries? What if she needs a diaper change? How do I do it? It was not only the grocery store, but so many other things. I am no longer punctual (see #5) and everything does take more time to prepare...and even though you spend all that time getting ready, you'll probably forget that one thing you need.

7. You've got to take time for you. Before being a mom, I didn't know that mom-guilt was a thing, but it's a real thing. Hit the gym after work? Mom-guilt will ruin your workout. Feellike grabbing a cocktail with a friend? Mom-guilt will sit at the bar next to you. Have to travel out of town for a few nights for work? Mom-guilt will wake you up in the middle of the night, so don't even think a benefit will be sleeping through the night. Mom guilt is so real. But find a way to kick it the curb. Find an hour to get a manicure or go for a walk alone, or just watch a movie or go on a date with your partner. Take time for you and your relationship. When you're on an airplane, and when the air mask drops from the overhead compartment, you have to take care of yourself first. I wish someone would have reinforced this to me...that I have to be good to myself so I can be good to my baby.

People will tell you the things you need to buy, and the books you need to read, and the classes you need to take. Do those things if they make you happy or help you feel prepared, but don't do them because you feel pressured to do them. I suppose that's my only real advice - just do you.

XO

Meagan

The Mathematics of Motherhood

I'm just going to put it out there. I'm a closet-math nerd. I thought I hated the subject in middle school. I rolled my eyes at the teacher and I wore out the eraser on my number two pencil pretty regularly. But then I got it. I am a problem solver. I like answers. And spreadsheets. And I actually really like number two pencils with fresh erasers. I am a math nerd.

Our lives are full of problems that need solving, and circumstances that demand answers. Friends, have I got a doozy for you.

The math problem for today is this: You have 24 hours in the day. You have one toddler, one husband, one house, one dog, two sets of in-laws, one set of parents, a daycare schedule to figure out and a whole lot of random things will pop up that need your attention. You must work your full time job, ensure everyone in the house gets a decent meal for dinner, plan the details of the next day, find some time to unwind, connect with a friend or two, and visit dreamland for a solid amount of time. Is this probable?

The answer is yes. But wait, there's something that needs a little more definition.

You have a toddler. So that one hour of grocery shopping becomes two. That thirty minutes of getting ready in the morning becomes sixty. The quick trip to the coffee shop requires double the time because you have to pack up half of your house just to get out of the house, along with a kiddo who doesn't want to leave. Your full 24 hour day doubles with need and you get zero extra hours in the day. What do you do?

You subtract. You subtract the time with your husband, you remove your unwinding time altogether, you opt for sweatpants and wine instead of happy hour with your friends, and your full time in dreamland becomes negotiable depending on what the day decided to dump on you. That's the Mathematics of Motherhood.

My 24 hours looked different when I was just me, before I was a person someone called mom. Those hours included an ample amount of sleep, gym classes, happy hours, date nights, late days at the office, early morning yoga classes, long vacations, quick getaways and spontaneous romantic times with the hubs. Yup, times have changed. I was spoiled, but I'd argue that I'm a different kind of spoiled now.

Our weekend trips aren't quick getaways. We don't just throw a bag in the car and drive. We don't lazily go for brunch and spend afternoons reading. (Let's be honest, we didn't do that anyway). But instead, a weekend trip includes planning. Hours and hours and days and days of planning. Before we leave, we grocery shop for snacks and meals because our toddler doesn't do so well lazily brunching. We pack a bag for ourselves, a bag for the kid, a bag of activities and supplies and a bag of diapers. We pack and over pack because that one thing we desperately need in the middle of the night can't be something we forgot. We cannot be spontaneous anymore. That is not part of our equation. Spontaneity is not part of the Mathematics of Motherhood.

We have spent some time down the road of weekend trips with the toddler, and I have three important things for you to remember in this season of life.

1. It's just a season. There will come a day where we are saddened by the scarce amount of planning, the lightweight reality of our bags, the empty sounds in the air.  This time is just a season, and we need to love the heck out of it and take albums full of mental pictures of the sweet, the hard, the good, the bad and the beautiful. We are doing it all, and with only 24 hours in the day.

2. Slow down. This is important for me. Let us not rush our kids to be faster, to move more quickly, to keep up with us. Let's walk at their pace. Let's learn alongside them and appreciate right next to them. Let's be children in our hearts forever.

3. Plan. A lot. Because taking care of details for a weekend outing on a Wednesday afternoon will make you feel better about leaving for a weekend outing. And with each set of plans, things will go wrong, and that's when we learn and get better. It's in the hard times that we get stronger, smarter, and it's when we step outside of our comfort zone that we can grow. So plan. A lot. But be flexible and find the lessons when things go wrong.

There's no easy answers. I write a lot about how motherhood changes our identity, and challenges us to remember our past-selves. But with how much we might miss our abilities to do absolutely everything in a packed 24 hours, we are lucky. We are lucky. And our kids, husbands, families, jobs, homes, pets and all - they are lucky too.

What does your 24 hours look like? What do you subtract to make it all work?

XO

Meagan