I am extremely grateful for that lady on the left.

My mom.

You can't put a price on how much she means to me.

We are two peas in a pod. Most of the time.

Every time we see each other,

we say the exact same word at the exact same time with the exact same emotion and meaning. 

We sigh and laugh and well up with tears in unison.

Twin-like.

My mom.

She's a passionate one.

She is zesty and doesn't care.

But she is kind.

And she so desperately wants justice.

And she wants people to do right.

And she is pure.

If I could describe my mom in one word, it would be that.

Pure.

 

 

 Purely authentic, honest, real, and outright.

She doesn't have a bad bone.

Sometimes she can come on strong,

the motive always right.

My mom is a mother.

She has always prided herself on that.

She is a very good mother.

She is a complete nurturer.

Today I needed her.

I've been going through some stuff.

I hadn't planned on discussing any of it, but she read my voice.

I was meaning to sound chipper, but she knew.

She has the best advice always.

Such wisdom that comes from love.

Only love.

Today she told me that my two main priorities are making sure Ivy is secure in me 

and that my marriage remains solid.

Simple.

Needed.

I wish I could be as carefree as my mom.

She drinks in moments.

I have never met anyone like that.

She could eat the seasons with a spoon.

She is gleeful about creativity.

She compliments with joy and sincerity.

She is nostalgic.

She indulges in feeling and makes your heart her own.

 

She doesn't rush.

She doesn't worry.

She isn't a perfectionist.

She just enjoys.

Thoroughly.

And she loves 

deeply.

 

 

I am grateful that she is my mom.

So grateful.

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude: This Night

 

 

 This is short because, boiii, it's been busy around here.

Moonbugs galore.

But because of all of the busy, I am grateful for nights like these:

A good mood husband.

Coffee ice cream.

Parenthood.

Early to bed.

AND,

a comfy couch and resting dog.

Blankets.

Socks off.

Night's like these.

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude: Scripture

"When I kept silent,
  my bones wasted away
    through my groaning all day long. 

    For day and night
  your hand was heavy on me;
     my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer."

Psalm 32:3-4

I am grateful for scripture.

This one spoke to me yestermorn.

I haven't been near to prayer.

I go through phases and lately it's been a running one.

But I woke before the sun rose and thought

"gotta get back."

This is what I found.

And it could not be more true to me.

Snap back.

My strength wains and I become super snippy and irrational when I am not concentrated on prayer and goodness and the love that Christ exemplifies. 

Snap back.

I think people might fear the idea that forgiveness is needed.

But man, it can really free a girl.

Holding onto all that grumpy, gross, judgmental, loud, ass whole-ish attitude?  

And with pride?

Well, it kills me.

Sapped as in the heat of summer.

Thankfully...

"Then I acknowledged my sin to you
    and did not cover up my iniquity.
I said, 'I will confess
    my transgressions to the Lord.'
And you forgave
  the guilt of my sin."

Psalm 32: 5-6 

Grateful for scripture.

Grateful to sigh. 

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude: Coze

What is coze you might ask?

It is a whole lot of things wrapped in the most comfy blanket you can imagine.

Coze is coffee in the morning, noon, and night.

It is candles in the kitchen, on the mantle, in the bathroom.

Coze can be found in the car on a rainy day when that just right song comes on.

It is in cuddling with husband or child or pet.

 Coze is when your clothes fall just right, on the squishy parts. When you're warm.

Mukluks.

In the clothing handed down.

In the box of keepsakes.

In past memories that make you flutter or cry.

Coze is in the early morning when you get a lot done.

Or pray.

Or shower.

It can be found on the couch while watching Madmen and drinking wine.

Or Breaking Bad and popcorn.

How bout the Walking Dead and hot chocolate.*

Coze is definitely atmosphere.

Just right lighting.

Incense.

Blankets.

Company.

I am grateful for coze. 

A generational passing down.

A kiss from woman to woman to woman to Ivy.

An indulgence.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

A spirit for sure.

 The spirit of cozy.

Bless you.

Find it for peace sake.

*I am grateful for TV. I am grateful for well done TV. Character studies. A place to let your mind rest.

And AMC is the best.

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude: Ivy

I am grateful for Ivy.

She turned two years old yesterday.

Hummingbirds carried this past year.

Zoom.

 And the year before seems like a sweet dream.

Ivy has shown me the deepest love. To expect and to give.

She has knocked me down a peg or two or three.

She has raised my expectations of myself.

She has been a mirror.

 She taught me the strength of my body.

She brought our family closer.

She caused me to examine who I need to be to her.

And to myself.

I have been more afraid numerous times because of her.

Sickness, teething, constipation, black eyes.

I have had more than sympathy pains.

I am learning to be stronger.

 Ivy is the unexpected personality.

My mom wonders where some of her zing came from.

A complete extrovert.

Very hilarious.

A walking eyeball.

Aware.

Sensitive.

Busy.

Loving.

She is my first babe.

The one I will make the most mistakes with

The one I will have that special first connection with.

The one who will offer more grace than I deserve.

I am grateful for hilarious Ivy.

A total life changer.

Happy Birthday, Ivy!

+

I realize I missed two days of gratefulness. 

How bout a make-up grateful.

   

I am grateful for this sisterly connection.

Gaibrien is a great sister!

They love each other much, much.

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude: America

 

I am grateful to live in a free country.

I am grateful for undeserved opportunities.

I am grateful for choice.

I am grateful for unity.

I am grateful to raise a woman in this country.

She's pretty great.

And I will support her voice.

And I will cherish her little voice forever.

Mitt Mommy. That's pretty cute. My mom told me that was a sign. I said, I'm not so sure.

lovemymom. votes still a secret.

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude: Epiphanies

Source: plus.google.com via USA on Pinterest

Pre-election thoughts.

This has been a hard one for me to decide this year. 

Romney, Obama, Romney, Obama?

For those of you who are dedicated to one or the other, I get it. I hear you . 

I am glad for your peace of mind!

After a very long day of contemplation, Facebook, private messages, discussions with my mom, and discussions with my husband, I have come to a decision.

Because I feel like a raw nerve, I plan to keep this decision private.

But why it was difficult, that is what I would like to discuss...

I grew up in a Republican environment.

I married a liberal thinker.

My friends seem to be split 50/50. 

I love my entire family. I love my husband. I love my friends.

 I am thankful for their opinions.

I think I have buried some of my own thoughts out of the fear of division. 

Division is awful. 

 I hate it among churches, among family, among friends, and among the country. I flee it.

There is something freeing about realizing this. About getting to know myself better. 

Epiphanies are soothing and emotionally draining.

And I had one today.

I am grateful for epiphanies. 

This election year, more than any other, I have really searched my heart and FactCheck.org.

I have researched what Republicans believe in
and what Democrats believe in.

I have thought about my Christian faith.

I have thought about how I am effected by others opinions. 

And about when I retaliate or am spiteful or inspired or on a band wagon. 

I have thought about past, present, and future.

I have come to a conclusion that I know is well intentioned.

That has been thought out.

And that is from my head and my heart.


 

 

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude: Grace

Today I am very grateful for grace.

My household is at odds today. And not to be a girl about it but I'm gonna be, PMS strikes as well.

 I can never tell on these days if I am overexaggeratting or correct in how I feel?

Back to grace, I am grateful for it because I can be a real self-righteous B.

But, sometimes I don't relate to or agree with anyone who lives here.

PMS?

Prob.

These are the days I feel real isolated. And I know that I am wrong to think everyone else is wrong.

I am wrong to say mean, drastic things.

Going to a hotel overnight with Ivy isn't the answer.

Things are petty and dumb.

Thankfully, grace is with me. Gratefully I will realize how ridiculous my thoughts are and how blessed I am to know about grace.

I will be sorry.

That will feel better.

I already kind of am.

But kind of not.

You know?

Pride and annoyances and anxiety and control sure do get in the way of joy.

I am not sure about you ladies, but PMS really blurs the lines. Makes me feel like a crazy woman. 

Makes me really mad at most people, places and things.   

So, this was a super honest post.

A bit nitty gritty.

Grateful for grace. Real grateful. 

PS. We went to Orange Leaf and things got better.

    

  

  

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude: Cool Girl

I appreciate cool girls.

I appreciate vulnerability.

I like when a lady can articulate honestly.

"What makes a strong female character is a character who has weaknesses and flaws...someone who is relatable" 

-Tavi

I like role models. I hate the word, but I like them.

When I was a girl, I didn't have a hard time expressing my feelings. I thank my mom for that. And my gram. And my Aunt Lisa. 

And every single good friend I ever had, which were a lot of authentic ladies.

I feel like I was blessed in this area of life.

Still am.

When I look at girls like Tavi (youtube video people) I am reminded of my girlhood. 

The openness. Admitting weakness. Spending time being creative. Being herself. Having passion.

Hey small group, ya trackin?

If Ivy grows up and wears her heart on her sleeve, I will be glad.

If she loves something with her entire heart, I will be glad.

If she cries, I will be glad.

If she wears black lip stick and collect animal bones and has the kindest heart, I will be more than glad.

This world is dark. Being a girl is hard.

Self-confidence is crucial.

I believe that comes with expressing feelings...

healthily.

I pray it's through some sport, or art, or church, or chess club. I pray she will tell me things. Tell Eric things. Deep things.

Like I told my mom.

I promise to be a soft spot to fall.

I promise that if I disagree, I won't be harsh.

I promise that I will guide with love.

I promise I won't try to change her.

I will always encourage communication, authenticity, creativity, and goodness.

I love Tavi. She is herself. She seems healthy minded. She is wise.

One great role model for Ivy and me.

Who are some good role models for girls, ladies, and women? Who do you love? Why?

And check out more Tavi

                    

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude: Gramp

Now, I may cry...

Grateful, grateful, grateful am I for my grandfather. The consistent solid man when I was wee.

He was solid to me. In my mind.

As a little girl, the world seemed uneven. I didn't have the easiest growing up years. Mistakes were my biggest fear from a very, very young age. 

But I never thought about mistakes when my gramps was near.

When I was in elementary school I would spend a lot of time at my grandparents. Those memories are held with mortar. Can't take them out of the fire safe. They are rich with goodness.

My grampy owned his own painting business. He would come home from work when the sun was in its perfect spot. He smelled like hard work. I remember him washing his hands with gojo. I  loved that orangy smell. He would then sweep me up in his arms, and strong arms they were. And bear hugs galore. His painty, natural smell felt safe.

And I like the smell of his cigarettes.

When I was so small, I watched scary movies. I loved them. Freddie Krueger was number one. I know, so strange. I remember cuddling up with my gramps in his big comfy chair to watch that bloody psycho murder people. 

And we ate pizza. And I think of this fondly.

Maybe it was the fact that my grandparents obliged my nutty horror movie cravings or the spirit of cozy next to my grandfather was much stronger than that fake spirit of fear.

Regardless, comforting memory.

My grampy was a great dancer. Serious. He was known to be from way past to present. I like to think that's where some of my rhythm comes from. He and I use to dance around the room. Johnny Cash tunes and smooth moves. Oh my, I loved this. 

Twirling and fast paced and slow. Laughter and dance face.

Last year we went to my cousins wedding and my gramps was one of the best dancers there.

 My Meadows family, a bunch of dancin fools, we are. 

Makes my heart soar.

My grampy always wore his clothes with dignity. He took pride in being clean. Crisp shirts, white socks. 

A pants man. 

He still does.

I love him so.

He is getting older and that's hard.

He has always, always shown me love. My whole life, I have always known. He kept his heart near me, and still does. 

He loves my girl, and Ari's girl. He brought this life together. He sees it. 

He eats it.

I love my grampy. He is one of the most stubborn men I know. He has sharp thoughts and a prideful way. But I know him.

And he is good, good, good.

He has shown me love, to which I will always be grateful. Forever. 

Without him, the confidence that I did experience as a girl might have been different.

I would be different.

I am grateful for my grampy.

John Meadows.

And I think I am developing parts of his nose, which I will gladly take. And my mom is like the female version of my gramps, it's not even funny.

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude: Quality Time

November One! I am doing a mental happy dance. Coffee, the elliptical, craft store, and lunch with Ivy's daddy. I am starting the month off right with quality time.

I wish that I could grasp quality time every day. And I should. My mind has a hard time staying clear. Is that part of self discipline or is it part of human nature? These sunny days after all the shit has flown. They matter. When I follow through on a list and notice every crease in my daughters smiling eyes. When I am able to multi-task at the craft store and enjoy a thirty minute work out without a worry thought. When I decide to choose my words wisely and speak only kindness toward my husband.

This be quality time.

I am thankful for time. I am. But often times I am awful at managing it. I feel paralyzed by all my many ideas. There is so much I want to do. There is so much to do.

I think it goes back to deep breathing. Like, the idea of taking a minute to inhale and exhale. Conscientiously. That's how I HAVE to handle time, otherwise I explode. Anxiety explosion, every body run! I need to sit in the minutes, regardless of what I am doing, and eat them like a healthy meal. Slowly, appreciating what they are doing for my mind, body, and soul.

Today I am grateful for quality time. But even more, grateful for time. To try and be better about allowing what will be and making the most of freedom.

An orange colored day to you and you!

Freakless

Hey people, my peeps. It's about to get real thankful in this place. I could use a lot of looking onward, upward, and to the sky. The sun, the moon, the stars. The big space full of love.

October sucked the big one. November will not.

Obviously Thanksgiving is approaching. The holiday season always inspires me. Warms me. Makes me remember the good stuff. How bout I write about it. And how bout I stop whining over in this house, girl. Lets get some gratitude goin. This is gonna be good.

Twenty Five Days of Gratitude begins tomorrow. In the meanwhile, how do you like lists? I love'em. And I like reading your lists and your lists and their lists.

This month I have decided that I won't freak.

But...

I will indulge in all things fall. I will exercise my creativity by painting and putting together. I will play with my daughter. I will body pump it up. I will shop for gifts leisurely. I will blog. I will rest when I can't do more. I will be productive when I can. I will watch TV less and read more. I will enjoy Moonbugs and a bit of volunteering. I will celebrate birthdays and Thanksgiving with sweet family. I won't stress about any of it.

Happy Freakless November!

Wet Boots and Rain

I like old. I like the feel of nostalgia. I like remembering. I like rust and tattered. I think it all lovely. 

I appreciate fashion. I use to have time to be more fashionable. And even if I am wearing comfortable clothing half the time, I still get fashion. I see it and like it.

I like classic. I admire classy men and women. I definitely have my favorites. Mary-Kate and Ashley, Nicole Richie, and Michelle Williams fall into my girlie fashionista crushes. You might not know it looking at me - post baby, married, and trying to balance a budget. But, I like'em.

I also like the rugged men. I am not all into the prep and the clean cut as much as I am into the guy that looks like a lumber jack nooffenseprepandclean. I consider Tom Waits a mix between lumber man + classy lad. I enjoy his theatrical vibe. Creative, handsome, and careless.

 

And, I gravitate toward his choice of shoes. Usually boots. And I want to wear them.

And that, my readers, is what this blog post is about. My fashion fall endeavor. Black boots with a Waits'esque feel. 

I usually have some fall fashion want. Two years ago it was a burka and brown cute winter boots. Fashionable but good for logic. Getting a two month old around in complete comfort. Ding, ding, Merry Christmas.

This year, I want a black boot with edge. Kinda sexy, kinda strong, kinda durable. Something to wear with skinnies or dressies. Boots that can grow old and tattered and full of nostalgia. 

I'll let you know where Tom leads me around December 25th.

"Novembers cold chain made of wet boots and rain and shiny black ravens on chimney smoke lanes"

-Tom Waits

Just Sick

 

Does this girl look sick to you?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

What a hard Saturday. Guys, she threw up three times during the twilight zone hours. A fever. A horrid cough. All glassy eyed. And she has had three different sick symptoms over the last four weeks. I'm about to fall over from sympathy pains + general mother love.

I feel sick. Sick in my heart, sick to my stomach, and sick of wearing pj's all day. Being a mom is hard, hard, hard. And I take it in deep. I take her warm-sick-breath and her cold to hot body temps and her cute little voice to heart, to anxiety, to please shoot me. I wish I could have a neutral button or logic button or just an it's-gonna-be-okay button to press. Even keel, granted. Got it, granted. Peace, there ya go.

You feel me, you mudders? the girl in Once called her mom that and I loved it

And I am sorry, but dad's, you are tooooo easy going about all of this. Am I right? Or, am I wrong?

istillloveyoue

I am dreaming of November, when my girl is healthy. Yes? And she turns two and the holidays bring about some comfort and joy. I am ready for Moonbugs to not be canceled. I am ready to color my hair, loose the drink chub, and pull on my boots to get up and go.

Until then, I will watch my girl drink broth from a coffee cup while smiling gleefully as her fever spikes.

One Expectation

Expectations are predetermined resentments - Anne Lamott

I read this recently and of course laughed because I am guilty of expecting every single day. I never seem to learn my lesson.

I expect things to go smooth. I expect my toddler to behave. I expect to clean my house. I expect to work on creative projects. I expect to make dinner on time, every night. I expect to be consistently joyful and exercised. 

I don't know about you, but I am not a super mom. Nope. Not. I am not a super wife, or a super friend. I am not super organized or super "on it".

So my expectations clash with reality. Always. And this makes me, um, nuts.

Last week was hard. H-A-R-D. My little Ivy was sick all week. First of all, its hard to watch a sick two year old. Sad and heartbreaking because nothing can be done. The best part is the cuddles and the soup and the endless amounts of mindless TV but that last part becomes maddening.

Because my girl was sick, I had to cancel all of my Moonbugs classes. I thought, well, at least I will get some cleaning done. Maybe a creative project. Nope, that little sick girl became more like an endearing barnacle attached to my back. For five days.

As I write this, you should see me. Stank breath, insanely messy house, no productive project to speak of. I have a birthday party to plan, a kitchen to paint, presents to buy, and a bedroom to furnish. I also have Moonbugs to improve on and revamping of schedules to complete.

There is, of course, being a good mom, a good wife, and a healthy me.

After a long week it is hard to see clearly. After feeling like nothing was accomplished except eating lots of cookies and watching the cat hair accumulate, a victim mentality is very easy to accept. And that's gross. And it happened.

I became a snappy mom, grew a chubbier belly, a whiny third child to my tired husband. How attractive does that sound? Super, I know. Perfect. I present to you Super Psycho to ruin your day. 

No, no, no. This is sick. I think what needs to change is the way I view things. Ihearyoumomstoplaughing. And this post sounds ultra negative, and it is. But what I haven't said is that during the mundane, same, same, same I found those moments every parent talks about...

I rubbed Ivy's back and sang her songs as she fell asleep. I watched her giggle a lot. I tried to make her comfortable and cozy, like my mom did for me when I was sick. I enjoyed her facial expressions and studied the Eric in her, and the me. And the rest of our family. I realized how great it was to be just her and I. To take care of her. To be her warmth.

If I could just take hold of the moment rather than the go, go, go I would be much better off. To expect nothing but to love. How simple and easy. And even though it may feel hard, it really is easy. And better. And honest. And kind. For myself and for others.

So, as I expect hope to take a nap, exercise, clean, and prepare dinner I will also expect myself to love in each moment.

Vague, but Ready, Set, Go!

I delved deep.  For a couple of days.  And that got me farther than I have been in 10 years.

10 years ago I saw myself as pure intentioned, desirous of things unseen, making the most of every opportunity, joyful.  Obviously not perfect, much younger, and not a whole lot of life lessons going on.  So there's that.  So, coming into this better mindset is kind of greater than 10 years ago.  A bit more wisdom and "I get it" mentality. 

Let's just say that the last post I wrote inspired by the reset challenge has taken me to a clearer mind, a pure place, a motivated path.  I am not sure how I want to explain this, so I might not.  Some matters need to be privately held and cherished.

I will say that my dis, dis, discipline has not held strong in all the aspects I had envisioned.  I did not remain true to all of my goals.  But I found a foundation to build from which, I think, will result in even better discipline as I walk along.

Tick, tock.

Sticking to my guns.  Holding hands with myself.  Holding hands with God.

Boom, boom!

Dis, Dis, Discipline

I am doin well. Day 5.  What, whaaaat?  This is what I'm talkin bout.

The Button Bird 30 Day Reset

Let me backtrack without being mega wordy I hope.

I have mostly sucked in the area of self discipline.  My whole life.  I have gone through some pretty great phases.  And when I think of phase I think of discipline done well in one area of my life for a period of time.  

As I have gotten older, I have gotten better. Right before becoming pregnant, I went back to school.  A university in fact.  And I made the dean's list both semesters that I attended.  This was quite amazing to me. The work I put into each class.  How proud I was of myself. I had never been the study/straight A type in high school. I applied myself and learned and created this time.  One of the best years of my life.

 The pregnancy kind of put a kink in graduating. 

Most recently I joined a gym, paid a bit for a personal trainer, ate super healthy, and lost the baby weight.

I started in February and had been working hard up until a couple of weeks ago.  Busy art classes and being tired led to my muscle sculpting demise.  And ice cream depression set in.  Bleck.

Spiritually, well hum bug.  The most up and down place in my life.  Even so, I still hold my personal faith in the highest regard.  And when I am on, I am most content and excited about life.  This is where I want to be most disciplined.  From this is where I think all else flows.

So, when I drank a huge glass of water.  I mean, when I took a deeeeeep breath.  Well, I mean when I read about the reset challenge, I was refreshed.

I have always been a perfectionist, which does not help doing challenges like this.  So I modified it.

I will participate in prayer and meditation every morning for 30 minutes. 

Waking up at 5:15am will be the newest, most challenging discipline these days. 

I will drink 70 ounces of water a day.  I will take a vitamin each morning.  I will eat healthier, repeating what I learned in February.  I will exercise 3-4 times  a week.  I will enjoy 2-3 glasses of vino a week.  And I will read the book Disciplines For The Inner Life.

I am here on day 5.  I am feelin the cleanse.  I think my family is too.  I don't want to say much more.  Get ahead of myself.  That is never good for a perfectionist.  Or a challenge. 

I will let you know in 30 days.  Until then, let the discipline reign!