the handprints on my dishwasher

I used to imagine what my husband and I would be like when we had our first child.

We would be parents who didn't act like "parents." We would be COOL PARENTS.

We wouldn't let our kid become the center of our universe. 

Our house wouldn't be taken over with blocks and trains and dolls. We would relegate all of that "stuff" to a small, designated area. I would not be that parent who talks about their kid incessantly, or who's social media is a gigantic, glaring spotlight on their kid, or who arranges their free time around their child's schedule and activities.

Well.

The time has come and I've had to eat all of those words. Every. Last. Crumb. 

//

Have you seen the State Farm commercial that shows a couple going through a typical life progression? 
The husband states, "We are never having kids." The wife's in labor in the very next shot.
"We are never moving to the suburbs." And then there he is, trimming the hedges.
My favorite part is when the exasperated dad says, "we are never having another kid" and the mom doesn't skip a beat as she unceremoniously announces, "I'm pregnant."
It's hysterical because it's TRUE. Kids have a way of turning our "nevers" into "next week" as they infiltrate every part of our lives.

You don't really see it coming, but before you know it, they take over every priority we thought we had, and the really insane part is? We don't even care. (Well, most of the time. haha). 

I'm convinced that if we're doing this parenting thing right at all, we will be consumed. 

The very nature of good parenting requires you to be all in. 

//

I began learning a lesson on day one of motherhood, and every day since I discover it in a new way. The other day as I walked by my handprint-covered dishwasher, I was reminded again:

Our babies leave fingerprints all over our lives. You can't compartmentalize this level of devotion to another person. There is no way my life could look the same as it did before. I can fight it....or, I can immerse myself unapologetically in the crazy-amazing adventure of motherhood, knowing it's worth it and it's only for a season.

The evidence of my motherhood is inescapable. Besides my dishwasher, take my car: obviously there's a giant carseat you can't miss, but also a myriad of toys and books scattered in the backseat for on-the-go entertainment. I have wipes, diapers, snacks, all the necessities. Not to mention a stroller that takes up 95% of my trunk space.

Oh, and my house? There is not a room you could walk in without seeing a toy, a picture of her, a kid potty, or some other toddler paraphernalia. And you'll probably leave with a Minnie Mouse sticker stuck to the bottom of your shoe. 

It's absurd.

Even my purse cannot escape the child takeover. Inside, I can usually find a single sock, a hair bow or three, and a diaper. Sometimes I hear a musical sound coming from my purse only to find Aven's play cell phone hanging out in there.

More proof that a little one is near: the slobber that seems to permanently reside on the shoulder of my t-shirt.

These scenarios should probably make me cringe, but the funny thing is, they make me smile. I look around at my life and see glimpses of her all throughout and it makes me proud. All of the outward signs are simply the testimony of my heart, if only you could see in there.

That's where you would find the fingerprints that I treasure: the ones left in invisible places. 
"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is seen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:18 

She's left her mark on my perspective, my faith, my purpose, my thoughts, my understanding of my Father God, my wants, my dreams, my whole heart. Those imprints are the ones that matter, and they aren't going anywhere. I'm forever changed. 

//

One day, my home will be tidy(er) and quiet. My purse will be organized without the ringing of fake cell phones. My car will be clean(er) with no goldfish in the creases or sippy cups rolling around in the floorboard. Those fingerprints on my dishwasher will have long since been Windexed away. 

One day, she'll leave me and go make her mark in a thousand other places. So for now, while she is here with me, I'll do my best to cherish everything that comes with this sweet privilege. I will encourage and embrace the handprints, both seen and unseen. 


Parenting changes everything. And I'm more than okay with that. 
I welcome it with a grateful heart. 

*All professional photos on this blog are (c) D Crowe Photography

easy babies: real or mythical creatures?

You've heard them/seen their Instagram posts:
"Oh, Aden is just such a chill little guy; always has been!"
"Jackson doesn't really cry. Maybe when he's hungry? Even then it's more of a whimper."
"Addie: happy baby alert!!! #Blessed."

Okay. I'm going to go ahead and admit how obnoxious those phrases can be, only because for a long time I wished I could say the same. 

But maybe you have one and can vouch for their existence? Or maybe you're more like me with no real concept of what "easy baby" even means. My brain just doesn't compute those two words being in agreement with one another, so when I hear that description, I'm quite honestly perplexed and intrigued, daydreaming about what that looks like. 


Here is how I would describe my child in five words or less:
Opinionated. Vocal. Emotional. Social. Spirited.* 
*That last one with emphasis because she is just so, so spirited, y'all.

As a newborn and even over her first year, "spirited" was often spelled out F-U-S-S-Y. 
Or,  D-I-F-F-I-C-U-L-T. 

I read several parenting books as a new mom, one of them being Secrets of the Baby Whisperer. The author breaks down the top personality types of babies to help you understand your child's natural tendencies, and therefore learn to parent them better. She categorizes babies into five primary personality types: Angel, Touchy, Textbook, Grumpy, or Spirited. As I read, I quickly discovered that Aven had some Touchy baby characteristics, but she almost always lined up with the descriptions given for Spirited babies.

No, she wasn't colic or dealing with reflux. She nursed well. She slept fairly well. She definitely had happy, pleasant days. She for sure wasn't the hardest baby to care for...but she wasn't the easiest either. 

Thinking back, maybe her birth was the foreshadowing? She was nine days late and as many pounds, not to mention she had to be straight up evicted from her residence in my womb.

Like I said, challenging. Right from the start.

As an infant, Aven required (okay, demanded) almost constant attention and was only content for very short periods of time. I needed to be in her line of sight AT ALL TIMES. Which, for a newborn, is practically the end of their nose. She was fussy and whiny. She did not appreciate change. Or car rides. Or loud noises - her daddy mowing the grass would literally send her into frightened tremors. Actually, there was a whole long list of things she didn't like. And perhaps it seemed more exaggerated to me through the foggy lens of postpartum hormones and the shaky legs of new mom anxieties, but I do know that she was not what anyone would call an easy, relaxed, or chill baby. 

I always had to be a couple steps ahead to keep her from getting upset. People wonder why we rely on routine so much, but I think the mamas of challenging babies will back me up. Some structure keeps us ALL sane. 

The hardest part was that sometimes her disposition made me question myself as a mom and wonder what I was doing wrong. Surely there was some technique I wasn't doing, or something I did that I shouldn't have done. But that wasn't true. It's just who she is, and I absolutely do not want to change that. Now I can see how all of those little nuances ultimately came down to her deep need for contact, communication, and interaction. I had to take the time to really understand her personality and learn how to help bring out the best in her - just like any other parent. 

I'm still figuring this out. Daily. 

To you moms who can relate to me, with Touchy, Grumpy, or Spirited babies: Motherhood has a wonderful way of showing us God's grace upon grace. It never runs out, this grace. No matter how things are now, they won't be like this forever. (That applies in the seasons of good, AND the seasons of not-so-good.) Maybe your child will mellow out with time. Or maybe he won't, and instead you'll continue to learn how to parent him better and meet his needs in a way that provides some peace. On the hard days remind yourself of this truth: 

ALL children have their challenging years and stages and phases. (Yes, even those Angel babies!)

We don't get a say in when that will be. 
We only get a say in how we will let it affect us, and how we will parent them through it.

Aven just turned two, so I'm somewhat removed from those difficult infant days I discussed earlier. 


Right now, we are in a good place. I realize that since I typed that out tomorrow could be hellacious, but as of today? She's so much more manageable. She's fun. Her sweet personality is shining and blossoming. She can communicate! Game. Changer. (Notice I still didn't claim that she was so "easy" or "chill," because those are just not components of her personality -- and that is OKAY.) We still have tantrums and melt-downs and the whole thing because...well, she's two. 



When I'm at work, I often find myself chatting about my daughter with my patients, and there are so many times when a mom will respond to say she too, had a fiery daughter like mine, and do you know how she describes that child now? Fun. Outgoing. A huge heart. Extroverted. Engaging. A charming and magnetic personality. 

See? They are still being shaped and finding their way through their own personalities, and how blessed are we to help them uncover their story? 

Turns out, it is true: easy babies do exist. And so do cranky ones. And goofy ones. And spunky ones. And serious ones. Remember? It takes all kinds. 

And perhaps one day when they're all grown up and we talk about our "spirited" babies, it will be spelled out L-E-A-D-E-R or
W-O-R-L-D  C-H-A-N-G-E-R or some other wonderful, EXUBERANT thing. I can't wait to see how this all turns out. 

I can't wait to see how she turns out. 

a resolution for every mom

Sometimes your shortcomings just smack you in the face. Like, for example, the other day when I told my kid, "you do you." As soon as the words left my mouth I braced myself for her to repeat my snarky comment back to me but thankfully it kind of zipped right by her.

Clearly, there's always room for improvement when it comes to my mothering. 




There is one area in particular I know every mom can use some work in, because it's one of my biggest struggles. 

The one theme I want for my motherhood this year is this: 

Kindness. 

Namely, to myself. 

I can be pretty hard on myself. I'm still feeling out this motherhood role, and I want so badly to "get it right."  ALL THE TIME.  I mean, we all do.  But that's just an unrealistic and unfair standard to hold ourselves to. So this year, I will be kind to myself. 

I will grant myself permission to not be perfect.

I will focus more on my mom wins than my mom fails. 

I will speak truth and life over my daughter and myself, not words of negativity.

I will brag on other moms and cheer them on rather than wasting time comparing and judging. 

I will be easy on myself as I inevitably approach a new stage of motherhood with new challenges. In the midst of that, I will be intentional to show myself grace, allow mess-ups, and forgive myself quickly.

Worry less, revel more. 

I will value what veteran moms have to say because I have so much to learn.

I will teach my daughter that kindness has to be extended first to yourself before you can genuinely show it to others. 

When I'm struggling, I will not hesitate to ask for help or guidance. I will lean on my village.

I will cultivate a sense of gratitude for this sweet season of life; motherhood has been so good to me.

I will rest on the truth of what God says about me: I am a good mom, I am doing a good job, and this job matters SO MUCH. 

I will choose to believe that I am the best one for THIS specific job: mama to Aven. 

I will see my truest reflection not in my bathroom mirror, but in my heavenly Father's kind eyes. 



Let's be kind this year, okay? Starting with ourselves. 

xo, 
Shanna

31 Days of Learning to Simplify: My Mothering

There are about one million ways I could think of to improve my parenting. One million ways I fail and mess up, and one million times when I've said or done the wrong thing. I'm sure the people around me would gladly dispense advice and there are books full of checklists to make sure I'm doing everything just right, all the time. 

It's so much pressure. 

But God doesn't put pressure on me to be a more perfect mom. His approach is much different, gentler. He picks my tired self up off the hot seat, and then he doesn't just leave the seat empty for me to find my way back again. He sits in my place.

He sees me in the monotony of my days, at my best and my worst, and he's pleased. He tells me I'm a good mom (sometimes more than once, when I really need convincing). 

That's because the Lord looks past my mom "failures" and "wins" and peers deep into my mama heart. 

He knows the soaring love I have for this baby of mine, because he sees with the eyes of a Father. A kind Father. A good Father. 

When I feel all caught up in my constant striving to do better and more, I need to remember who he says I am. That is, already enough. 

Right where I am - I'm enough. You're enough. 


I'm my best mama-self when I see myself how he sees me. When I parent out of that place, I'm not relying on techniques or methods, I'm just relying on the One who made me a mom in the first place. And He's enough. 


I am nearing the end of my Write 31 Days Challenge! If you want to read through some of the other posts in this series, click here. 

sunshine & rainbows

I saw this play on a famous quote written on an Urban Outfitters mug, and I catch myself repeating it constantly. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows, but a good amount of it actually is." Please don't be concerned that I get my inspiration from places such as Urban Outfitters. I will explain. (The mug is sold out or I would link up to it...and also buy it for myself.) 

So many applications for this, but motherhood may be the most fitting of all. 

A good amount of motherhood ACTUALLY IS glorious. That's the secret sauce in this parenting concoction, I've decided. I mean, why else would we sign up for this more than once? So much of it is utter chaos and madness and just....insanity. Some of the phrases that exit my mouth are at minimum - ridiculous. "Aven, honey, we do not high five the dog in the face." And let's be honest, a good amount of it is also just really, really tough. 

BUT THEN. 

In the midst of an overcast day, we catch a glimpse of sunshine that manages to radiate through the gloom and mundane. The sunshine is blinding it's so bright. It comes in the form of a gummy baby giggle. Or witnessing their first unsure steps. Or the first unsolicited "I yuh you mommy." (Actually that last one is definitely a rainbow in my mind. A giant, coloful, unforgettable rainbow.)  These moments - the rays of sunshine and rainbow prisms - shine so brightly, they warm our faces and reflect on our skin and pierce to the depths of our mama hearts. They tuck themselves away to be drawn upon later - a balm for the weary mom's soul, a sweet memory for reflection at the end of a demanding day, a catalyst to the energy we need to survive the all-nighters. So powerful is this light in our world that it pushes out the dark that has come before and repaints the scene in vibrant color.

If today has been arduous or exhausting or marginally insane for you, just wait for it. Your sunshine is coming. The rainbow is forming. Sometimes the light finds you, and sometimes you have to chase it. Either way, what we find in those bright moments is the promise that mothering is good and important work. HARD work, but SIGNIFICANT. So, so significant. 

And worth every cloudy day. The light always wins.