Daddy's Little Girl

Most people who know Matt would agree that he is definitely a man’s man – a deer hunting, Harley riding, sports watching, no whining, man’s man. In the nearly seven years we’ve been together, I’ve seen very little of his sensitive side (but I swear, it really does exist). His straightforward personality and rugged nature work for me (most of the time, anyway), but I sometimes wondered how that would work for us when we had children. I wasn’t sure if he would be interested in diaper changes, baby talk, and pretend tea parties. There were times when he wasn’t sure either, but that was before we had a daughter.

Nothing softens a man’s heart like the birth of his baby girl. The moment the doctor handed Reese over to Matt in the delivery room, a new kind of tenderness surfaced in him. Her little body looked even smaller in his big hands, and it was an amazing sight to watch him hold her, change her, and dress her in those first few months. It didn’t take long for her to recognize his voice, his face, and his touch; and she quickly became his biggest fan. Some of my favorite parenting moments are watching the two of them together as she chases him around the kitchen, bounces down the hall on his shoulders, or runs for a hug when he comes home from work.

In my heart I always knew Matt would be a great dad, and my instinct is confirmed every time he changes the channel from ESPN to Disney, every time I see him wearing a pink headband and holding a yellow tea cup, and every time I see the look on his face when Reese says, “Good night, Daddy. Me love you.” It’s moments like these that inspired me to write this poem for all of the little girls whose hero will always be named “Daddy.” Happy Father’s Day!!

Daddy’s Little Girl

The very first man to take my hand

The first to kiss my cheek.

The first to hold me in his arms;

A bundle wrapped in pink.

The first to say, “I love you”

And promise me the world.

I feel safe and loved because

I’m Daddy’s Little Girl.

I’ve become his everything.

There’s nothing he won’t do.

He’ll wear pink bows and paint my toes

If I just ask him to.

He’ll dress up like a princess

And pour a cup of tea

Just because he always knows

How much it means to me.

He teaches me my manners

And reminds me to behave.

He tells me I should give and share.

He makes me strong and brave.

He shows me how to say my prayers

And walk proud in my faith.

He makes sure I always know

The path a good man takes.

And each night when he tucks me in,

He knows someday I’ll go.

But as I make my way into the world,

I hope he always knows

That no matter where life takes me,

There’s no man in the world

Who could ever take his place because

I’m Daddy’s Little Girl.

This One's for the Girls

On Tuesday night I went out to dinner with my Bible study girls. My girls nights these days are too far and definitely too few between, and the settings in which I find myself on such occasions have changed dramatically over the past few years. Loud bars have become quiet corner booths and an extra round of shots has become an extra round of garlic bread. My personal dress code changed from “show it off” to “cover it up,” and 9:30pm went from "time to head out" to "time to head home." I’m not even sure I remember what there was to talk about before I had children. Some of Tuesday’s conversation topics included toddler vomit, diaper blowouts, rashes, fevers, and a very creative use for disposable nursing pads. (Don’t worry, Holly. I won’t tell the story). By the way, only a table full of moms can talk about toddler vomit and diaper blowouts during dinner without anyone wincing in disgust.

Ok, so it’s undeniable that motherhood brought some drastic changes to my social life, and possibly the biggest one is that I actually have to put in some real effort to maintain it. I quickly realized how easy it is to give up on that part of life after having children. I find it so much easier to stay home every night. After a long day of cooking, cleaning, and chasing a toddler, a hot shower, a good book, and an early bedtime are often my only interests. I seem to have much less time for my girlfriends these days, and I’ve seen many of my old friendships fade over the past two years. Luckily, last year I got connected with a few other moms like me and I’ve rediscovered the important role friends play in personal growth and sanity maintenance. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a group of girl friends in the same stage of life to share fears, triumphs, struggles, and laughs. Words cannot express how blessed I feel to have these ladies in my life.

Possibly the best part of our little circle is that each of us is so wonderfully imperfect. We share our weaknesses with candor and humor and we welcome the comfort that comes along with someone else jumping in to say, “I do that too!” We also share our strengths with a passion that inspires each of us to be proud of who we are and at the same time encourages us to be more like each other. Each of these women fuels my constant desire to become the best wife and mother I can be. Sometimes I wonder if they are even aware of their individual contributions to my life...

Everyone needs a friend like Kristin, whose commitment to a healthy lifestyle inspires me to exercise more, take better care of myself, and treat my body like a temple of God. I read food labels more carefully and Reese eats a more balanced diet because Kristin is my friend. Everyone needs a friend like Holly, whose passion for serving others inspires me to reach out to those in need. I volunteer my time more freely and donate more generously because Holly is my friend. Everyone needs a friend like Sarah, whose sense of humor inspires me to see that every situation is an opportunity for fun. I laugh at myself more frequently and find enjoyment in difficult moments because Sarah is my friend.

My journey through motherhood would be infinitely tougher without a circle of friends with whom I could share all of the ups and downs. If you have friends like these, I hope you fully realize what an enormous blessing it is. If you need friends like these, I hope you take steps to make those connections. Join a play group or Bible study; hang out at the park; reconnect with a forgotten friend. Most importantly, if you have never told your friends how they inspire you, take a minute to thank them for the very important roles they play in your life.

“Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up.” - Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

My Tiny Teacher

Reese turns two this weekend, and it's amazing to think about all the changes her life has been through since last year. Last May she took her first steps and her vocabulary was limited to just three words. Now she is running, climbing, and talking in full sentences. It has been quite a journey watching her explore the ever-changing world around her as she learns more and more each day. But what's even more incredible is everything she has taught me this year. I never expected to learn so much from such a tiny teacher who is completely unaware of the many life lessons she teaches her mom every day. In honor of Reese’s second birthday, here are some of my favorite life lessons through a toddler’s eyes: 

1. Control your energy. I'm talking about the invisible, emotional energy that surrounds the space around us. If I am aggravated or over-scheduled, it changes the air in my home. I have noticed that Reese is crabby when I'm crabby, tense when I'm tense, and relaxed when I'm relaxed. She has shown me how much my attitude affects the space and the people around me. Being more conscious of my energy helps me stay focused on the positive and makes for a happier mom and a happier home.

2. Be who you are. I love how toddlers are so incredibly carefree. Reese doesn’t care about being judged by others, nor does she have the ability to judge. In Reese’s world, everyone is completely free to be themselves. Her carefree nature reminds me to be less concerned about society’s standards and expectations, especially because I want to keep that ability alive in her for as long as possible.

3. Resilience is key. I’m amazed at how easily Reese can bounce back from negative emotions and physical pain. Whether she’s upset over a bump on the head or mad at me for derailing her plans to color on the wall, the devastation always ends as quickly as it begins. She gets some comfort from mommy and moves on to a new task. Suddenly the original problem is completely forgotten, and she leaves me with yet another example of what it means to “just get over it.”  

4. Sometimes you just need to have a tantrum. Adults have tantrums too. We just have a different way of channeling them. I’ve learned that as long as we develop appropriate ways to handle an occasional flood of emotion, there’s no reason to feel guilty about our tantrums. If Reese needs to flail on the floor for a minute after being told that we’re not watching another episode of Mickey Mouse, I can’t exactly say I don’t understand. I often have that same urge when I get off the phone with Verizon’s customer service line.  

5. Life is fascinating. Sometimes I wonder how long it has been since I sat in complete awe of nature’s beauty. Somewhere along the way I became desensitized to my surroundings and consumed by my routine and I forgot how marvelous the world really is. Reese’s excitement over simple things in nature – a squirrel in the yard, a purple flower, a really tall tree – reminds me there are so many reasons to look at the world and say, “Wow!” 

Searching for Serenity: The Beginning

I’m sitting on my patio, lemonade in hand, watching my new waterfall fountain, a mother’s day gift, pouring steady streams of water into the basin below. On my left, our hammock swings gracefully between two trees. The air is filled with peaceful silence interrupted only by the chirping of birds and the steady trickle of the fountain. Yet, somehow, among all of this beauty surrounding a home and a life beyond my wildest dreams, I am troubled.
 

I should start at the beginning. I have always led a stressful life. I was a straight A student all the way through grad school. Then I was planning a wedding; then I switched jobs; then I got pregnant; then I quit my job against my better financial judgment; then our family started to outgrow our tiny house. I always believed my stress was warranted, my worries were real. I was plagued by terrifying “What if’s,” many of which were neither foreseeable nor preventable.

Beginning exactly one year ago, a series of amazing blessings propelled me into the life of my dreams. Matt was promoted to a job that would allow me to stay home indefinitely and six months later we bought our dream house. Finally, all of my problems are solved, I told myself, and I truly believed it. A month after the move, I sat alone on my couch staring across the room at our stone fireplace with tears soaking the front of my shirt.  All of the worry, doubt, and anxiety had followed me right into my new life, and a whole new set of “what if’s” forced their way into my daily thoughts. My mind instantly entered guilt mode, “How can I not be happy with all of this? Am I really that ungrateful? Don’t I realize how blessed I am?”  Once I realized that a verbal self-beating wasn’t going to help me, I pulled myself together and resolved to find the root of my sadness.

Over the next few weeks, I came to a troubling conclusion. I imagine it is the same conclusion reached by those who find themselves in an endless series of bad relationships: It’s me. My worries were never about the external circumstances in my life. Rather, they were generated from an unsettled place deep inside me, and my ability to calm them relied not on solving my problems but on tapping into the internal sense of peace that calms the storm regardless of the problems in its wake.


Possibly the most bothersome aspect of my plight is that the concept of internal peace is not new to me (although the pursuit of it certainly is). I’m familiar with all the famous quotes about how money can’t buy happiness and moments that take your breath away. Live, Laugh, Love, right? For some reason, though, I always thought my situation was an exception. I believed peace was waiting right around the corner if only I could reach this goal, solve that problem, survive this busy week. It wasn’t until I had it all on the outside that I realized how much was missing on the inside. That’s what I should have been pursuing the whole time. Imagine my devastation as I thought back on all the years of my life that weren’t enjoyed to their fullest because I was plagued by worry, doubt, and a million what-if’s that never came to fruition.

Although it has taken me a long time to give my problem a name and a voice, I am now in the beginning stages of what I believe will be a life-changing journey. If you are bothered by worry, doubt, or anxiety; if you feel lost in your life and confused about your purpose; if your faith has been shaken by your inability to find true peace; then I invite you to join me. I don’t know that I will find definitive answers to all of those uncertainties, but I’m determined to try.

Today, as I sit on my patio and sip my lemonade, I am still troubled but I am filled with a new hope. I still worry and my anxieties still take over more than I would like to admit, but I am slowly working to change the way I process their presence. Each day is a miniature journey toward the ultimate goal – complete peace and serenity despite the many uncertainties of life. Many people say it isn’t possible. I say, let’s see.

Look for future posts titled “Searching for Serenity” for updates on the realizations, challenges, and discoveries that come my way as I work to grow a more positive mind and create a more peaceful life.

25 Ways Motherhood Changes Us Forever

It’s Third Thursday Blog Hop time again, which is just one of many reminders in my life that the months go by too fast. The topic for May is, “How has motherhood changed you?” Becoming a mom tops the list of life events that resulted in permanent changes to my identity, attitude, world views, and outlook on life. Today’s challenge is finding a way to sum up those changes while doing justice to the topic and keeping my long-standing commitment to brevity. So without any drawn out explanations (which I shouldn’t need anyway because I know you all get it), here is a randomly ordered list of 25 ways motherhood has changed me forever…

1.      I will never again underestimate my ability to do anything.

2.      I actually want to exercise, eat right, and recycle.

3.      I believe in fairies, magic, and Santa Claus again.

4.      I can’t watch news stories where children are the victims of crimes, tragedies, or terminal illnesses without shedding a tear.

5.      I no longer need an alarm clock.

6.      I found greater joy in simple moments.

7.      I learned that when moms say they would walk through fire for their kids, it’s absolutely true.

8.      I am less afraid to die and more afraid to die for different reasons.

9.      I am fearless where I was once afraid and afraid where I was once fearless.

10.  I can say, “look, honey, a butterfly!” with genuine fascination.

11.  I discovered that I am still beautiful without mascara, heels, and push-up bras.

12.  I finally choose comfort over style when picking out shoes.

13.  I discovered that mommy’s kisses really are magical.

14.  I look at those perfectly formed fingers and toes and I know there is a God.

15.  I care less about reaching my personal goals and more about helping my kids reach theirs.

16.  I have more patience than I ever thought possible.

17.  I don’t feel like a loser when I go to bed early on the weekends.

18.  I stopped judging other parents based on their children’s public tantrums.

19.  I’d rather shop for baby clothes and toys than new purses and shoes.

20.  I cherish every minute of my alone time.

21.  I learned that very few areas of parenting have true right answers and trying to find them will drive you crazy.

22.  I appreciate simple things like showers and hot meals.

23.  I discovered that life really is too short and time really does go too fast.

24.  I lost friends I didn’t really need and reconnected with ones I never should have lost.

25. I finally understand the concept of unconditional love.  

The Pursuit of Balance

It’s Third Thursday Blog Hop time! This month all of the Hearts at Home bloggers are writing a piece on balance - where to find it, how to keep it, why we never seem to fully master it. I’ve written about balance before, but it was mostly just a confession that I, too, lack the peace of a fully balanced life. And don’t we all to some extent? Maybe that’s because there simply aren’t enough hours in the day; or maybe it’s because we aren’t defining balance in a way that brings it within our grasp.

The concept of balance is often centered on time management and our ability (or inability) to find enough time to maintain our kids, homes, jobs, and relationships without losing sight of our own needs and personal identities. But what if we could disconnect ourselves from the belief that balance depends on our time management skills? What if the opposite is true, and the way we manage our time simply flows from our sense of internal balance?

Simply put, you can’t have a well-balanced life in terms of time spent on personal activities, work hours, and relationships until you first achieve a well-balanced mind. Having a well-balanced mind means taking control of your thoughts, getting in tune with your priorities, and making honest self-appraisals about where you are in relation to where you want to be. Once you achieve that internal balance, the allocation of time toward things that maintain that balance will follow.

Unfortunately, there isn’t a magic formula for achieving that internal balance because balance is not a permanent state. It’s a constant ebb and flow of calm and storm. It’s fully present on some days and completely absent on others. Like other loaded concepts such as faith and education, the quest for balance is a life-long journey involving deep personal reflection, a willingness to acknowledge the gaps between our values and our actions, and the ability to distinguish what we have the power to change from the life circumstances we must learn to accept.

If you are searching for that ever-elusive balance, try to stop thinking that it has anything to do with how much time you spend on a treadmill or your storage room’s perpetual state of disarray. Instead, spend some quiet time figuring out why those things bother you; where the pressure comes from; and how to accept yourself in spite of your imperfect exercise schedule or cleaning habits. Balance isn’t just about finding time to work out, cook healthy meals, read to our kids, and make love to husbands. Instead of working on balancing our time, we should be working on balancing ourselves. Time is a constant. We’ll never have more of it tomorrow than we did yesterday. Balance doesn’t come from time. Balance comes from peace, and greater peace is always within reach.

How Can I Do That?

Have you ever seen someone who maintains incredible faith despite difficult circumstances and wondered, How can they do that? When we see people facing life-changing challenges and personal losses, it’s natural to wonder where they find the strength to rebuild their lives and the courage to continue fighting amid so many struggles. Sometimes when I see someone rebuilding after a natural disaster, battling a terminal illness, or living with a physical impairment, I can’t help wondering how I would handle such a challenge.
 
Sometimes I find myself praying that God will continue to provide me with the life of comfort to which I have grown so accustomed. I do this out of the fear that I could not rise to the occasion and face the challenges in my future with grace and humility. I wonder if I would surrender to God’s plan or continue to demand that He follow my plan. Most of all I wonder if I could accept my struggles with a thankful heart and praise God through my suffering.

During the Easter season I am reminded that this time of year is about more than the joyful celebration surrounding Jesus’ resurrection and the fulfillment of God’s promise that everlasting life awaits His faithful   followers. Easter is also about recognizing Jesus’ sacrifice and acknowledging His ability to understand our pain because He has walked among us. He endured a human death and all of the physical and emotional pain that surrounds human suffering. In Him lies all the strength and courage we could ever need.

I believe God brings us all to our knees at various points in our lives. Although none of us is exempt from bearing our own crosses someday, we don’t have to fear the challenge. We don’t have to fear it because we are loved by a Savior who has experienced our pain; a Savior who has the ability to provide us with abundant grace and tremendous strength. As much as I believe God gives us each a cross, I also believe that He can grant us the grace to bear it if we choose to let Him embrace us with His love and walk with us on a journey that He knows all too well.

So I guess I don’t need to pray for safety, health, or financial security nearly as often as I need to pray for the ability to maintain unwavering faith despite the presence or absence of any of those things in my life. It is incredibly comforting to know that He is willing to walk with me through everything from flat tires and bee stings to cancer and death. I guess that’s the answer. That’s how they do it. And the rest of us can do it too if we acknowledge His constant presence within us. Draw on His strength, celebrate His mercy, praise Him in good times and bad, and when the unexpected strikes your life you’ll never have to wonder, How can I do that?

Today and every day, He walks with you. Take comfort in His presence, honor His sacrifice, celebrate His promise, and have a very happy Easter!

Lessons from a Personal Legacy

Last week my dad’s cousin, Paul, passed away suddenly at the age of fifty-nine. On March 15, he collapsed in his home and spent a week in the hospital. He remained in a coma and never regained consciousness.  During that time, his kids posted regular updates in a blog where they kept family and friends informed about his condition and expressed their gratitude for the outpouring of love and prayers.

Although I never actually met Paul (or if I did I was young enough that I don’t remember), I was saddened to hear his story. I started following the blog the day after he entered the hospital and the words of his family moved and inspired me as they expressed their unwavering faith in God’s plan and celebrated their father’s entrance into the Lord’s kingdom. One recent blog entry includes a series of audio clips from a 2009 estate planning meeting in which Paul completed a personal legacy interview. Knowing that he was a faith-driven man, I was curious to hear his perspective on his greatest challenges, personal fulfillment, and life lessons. Not only was I inspired and encouraged to make greater strides in my own faith journey, but in just 25 short minutes I received a full snapshot of who this man was, what he valued, and what he wanted people to know about him as a person and as a follower of Jesus. Even after his death, his hopes, dreams, and legacy can live on because he took the time to ponder these questions and record his answers.

As I listened, I kept thinking about the beautiful gift this short interview now presents to Paul's children. I am fortunate enough to have my parents alive today, but when I inevitably find myself in the world without them, there is nothing I wouldn’t give to have access to such a recording. I sometimes find myself confronted with the realization that Reese will never remember me if I am torn from her life even in the next few years. Although I don’t like to think about it, the knowledge of that possibility gives me the encouragement to capture as many memories as possible and makes me wonder if I shouldn’t be sitting down across from a recording device every few years to answer questions that she might someday want to hear from my own mouth and my own heart.

In the last question of the interview Paul was asked, “If you knew you had only 30 days to live and health and money weren’t an obstacle, what would you do?” His answer included sharing his testimony of faith with as many people as possible. I’d like to help him do that, so the link to Paul’s interview is below.

I would also like to encourage everyone to ponder that question every day. Don’t think of it as a hypothetical because for some us, it may not be and for all of us, it won’t always be. If you find something in your heart’s desires that you’re not doing today, start doing it. If you’ve been putting off a dream, start chasing it. And if you’ve never made a recording of your personal legacy to leave behind for your children, start thinking about how they will remember you when you’re gone. Never forget that we are all here on borrowed time and tomorrow is not a guarantee. If today is your last day, how will you be remembered? Who will share your legacy? What do you want your kids to know? Write it. Record it. Videotape it. It will be the greatest gift you could give them.

http://paulsweas.wordpress.com/

Here We Go Again

After Reese was born, I went through a short period of time where I didn’t know if I wanted any more children. That period started after a serious hemorrhage had me fearing for my life in the delivery room. It continued with a blistery, nightmarish introduction to breastfeeding, and it culminated in an episode of postpartum anxiety during which I spent several weeks trying to convince myself that diving out the window and running to Mexico in my pajamas was actually not a good idea. As I sat on my toilet fighting off another panic attack with my squirt bottle in one hand and a jar of Tucks pads in the other, I promised myself that I was never going to do this again.

Almost two years later, that time seems light years behind me. Eventually, the blisters healed, the anxiety faded, the stitches dissolved, and I finally started to look back and say, “I guess that wasn’t so bad.” Then Reese started to smile and coo and each milestone pushed the negative memories deeper into the recesses of my mind.

As I watched the most beautiful baby I had ever seen grow into the most beautiful toddler, I fell deeper in love each day. All of the “I’m never doing this again” moments like teething, whining, tantrums, and public embarrassment pale in comparison to kisses, cuddles, first words, and baby belly laughs. But I still experience plenty of both feelings, often in the same breath. As I make my third attempt to figure out why she’s crying while our dinner burns on the stove, I wonder, how could I possibly do this again? And then I sneeze and Reese says, “Bess you, Mommy” and I think, how could I not?

Last month, as I sat in our bathroom holding a positive pregnancy test, my excitement was interrupted by a brief resurgence of memories… the labor pains, the sleepless nights, the squirt bottle. Dear God, not the squirt bottle! Do I really want to do this all over again?

Suddenly, Reese emerged from our closet wearing my shoes and Matt's tie. “Bye-bye, Mommy. I go work,” she said as if she actually had somewhere to be. As I started to laugh and cry at the same time, she walked over to me and touched my cheek saying, “Mommy sad?”

“No, honey,” I answered. “Mommy’s happy. Mommy’s very happy.”

October 28, 2012… Here we go again!

Amazing Love

After a short hiatus surrounding our move, I finally joined back up with the Hearts at Home Third Thursday Blog Hop. The topic for March is, “if you could have one super power to help you in your role as a mother, what would it be?” Just one, huh? I can think of quite a few things that would make my life easier – like a couple extra hands to help me get everything to the car in one trip, or enough brain power to keep me from forgetting at least one essential item on every outing. Maybe I’d like an endless supply of energy so I never have to choose between late-night relaxation and early morning workouts. Or what about the ability to make things appear out of thin air? I always thought that would be pretty awesome. Oh, we’re out of cheese? No problem. Poof! Maybe I’d like to have a clone – someone to work out while I sleep or to cook while I clean or to sing Old McDonald’s farm (again!) while I scream into a pillow. 


As I went through the list of possibilities, I started to (in typical Lisa fashion) over-analyze each one as if I would actually walk away from this blog post with my chosen power. Like if I could make anything appear, would that be the same as stealing? Wouldn’t I inevitably become greedy? What if I actually had extra arms? That would be weird. Where would I buy shirts? And a clone? Let’s not even go there. Would Matt love us both? (I said, let’s not go there). Maybe all the super powers that seem so great in our imaginations would actually make our lives more complicated in the long run. Maybe it’s better to accept the occasional forgetfulness, to leave a dirty toilet here and there, and to just take stuff to the car in two trips. Better yet, maybe instead of wishing for unrealistic super powers I’ll never have, I should focus instead on the one I’ve already been granted.


The chorus of my all-time favorite Christian song goes, “Amazing love, how can it be / That you my king would die for me?” The song ponders the great mystery of Christ’s love and the difficulty we might sometimes face in wrapping our minds around the possibility that He would suffer and die to give life to each of us.


The Lord’s unending, unconditional, all-powerful love seems to be a super power beyond comprehension… unless you have children. Not all parents have it – rather, not all parents recognize and accept it as a gift they possess. Here’s how you know if you do: if you feel immeasurable pain when your children suffer; if you are enveloped by pure terror when they disappear from your sight for even a second; if your heart soars with joy every time they smile; if you can sleep in peace knowing they are happy, healthy, and safe; if you know that you would go to the ends of the earth to love, support, protect, and comfort them; and if you would not think twice about giving your life in exchange for theirs, then God has granted you this gift of amazing love. Of course, our human version of amazing love represents only a fraction of God’s true divine love, but it does help us understand on the tiniest level why Jesus might have been willing to die for His people.


I was reminded of the depths of a mother’s love just last week after an outbreak of tornadoes destroyed parts of the Midwest. A mother of two sat huddled in the basement of her Indiana home with her children wrapped in a blanket underneath her. Using her body as a shield to protect them, she listened as her home crumbled around her. Debris pummeled her body from every angle, and she prepared herself to die so her children could live.


Both children emerged from the rubble without a scratch, and thankfully, their mother survived as well although she lost parts of both legs. As I followed this story in the news, it always brought me to tears to think that this mother had the strength and courage to put herself in between her children and the forces of nature. Amazing love, how can it be? And yet, I have that love. I have that ability. I could, and would, do the exact same thing for my child without skipping a beat. If that isn’t a super power, I don’t know what is.

Doing Something Right

Sometimes I wonder how well I fit the “good mom” profile. I don’t even know who this mythical perfect mother is, but I compare myself to her a lot. I wonder if I’m giving Reese the right kinds of foods, letting her watch too much TV, or spending enough one-on-one time with her throughout the day. Am I patient enough? Consistent enough? Loving enough? Is she smart enough? Are her social, motor, and vocabulary skills up to par with other kids her age?

I question myself the most in the moments that make me feel like a “bad mom” – when I forget to turn on the baby monitor until I hear a faint cry from the other end of the house; when I realize that she’s been walking around with a poopie diaper for who-knows-how-long; or when I get bored during our play time. When she catches a cold, develops a diaper rash, or falls and gets hurt, I always feel at least a small sting of guilt. Even though the realistic side of me knows I can’t prevent everything, sometimes it’s still hard not to wonder if I wiped her well enough, washed her hands often enough, or watched her carefully enough. 

To a certain extent, I think all moms do this at least a little bit. We wonder if any of the decisions we make will someday affect our kids’ health, intelligence, or social skills. We want to do what’s best for them, and we equate that desire with the need to be perfect. Because of this need, we tend to judge ourselves for what we do wrong way more often than we take pride in what we do right.

Reese recently reminded me that the most important parts of being a good mom are often the little things that I don’t notice becuase I’m too busy worrying about whether I’ve taken the right approach to potty training. We were playing in her room when she walked over to me, put her little arms around my neck, and said, “love you, honey.” Actually, it sounded more like, “Zuh-vee, Honey” but I knew what she meant, and my heart soared.

In that moment, I remembered that it doesn’t matter how many words she can say or whether her diet is perfectly balanced. All of my little day-to-day decisions don’t matter nearly as much as the fact that everything I do comes from a place of pure, unconditional love for my daughter and more importantly, she knows it. She hugs me and says, “love you, honey” because she hears Matt and I say that to her and to each other so often. Whether she is consciously aware of it or not, she knows that she comes from a house full of love.

I may not make the right decisions 100% of the time and I don’t always measure up to the mythical perfect mother, but every time Reese hugs me and says, “Zuh-vee, honey,” I remember that the small things I do wrong don’t matter nearly as much a big thing done right. 

Living in a Fish Bowl

I used to work for University Housing Services at ISU, and many of us lived in the same building in which we worked. Our supervisors often reminded us that we lived in a fish bowl, meaning that the students were always watching us so we had to constantly work to set a positive example whether we were officially “on duty” or not. I suppose the same concept can be applied to any professional who lives among those they serve including teachers, police officers, church leaders. I used to think of this concept only on a professional level, and I never thought to include parents. Having a toddler is a quick way to learn just how deeply that concept applies to parenting. Here's how I realized it:

Reese and I were in the bathroom getting ready for her bath. The tub filled with water as I removed her clothes. When I pulled her sweatshirt over head, it got stuck and she started to cry. We got it off after just a few seconds and I said in a silly voice, “Whoops! Sorry, baby. Your big head got stuck.”

She turned her innocent face toward me and repeated, “Big head.”

I could almost hear my former supervisors reminding our whole staff, “You live in a fish bowl now so choose your words and actions wisely.”

That incident happened weeks ago and since that day, every time I pull her shirt on or off she says, “Big head.”

I always respond apologetically, “Honey, mommy is sorry for saying that you have a big head. You have a very beautiful head.”  Now she says, “Beau-ful, big head,” which is at least an improvement.

As silly as it sounds, I feel really guilty about this. With just one spur of the moment comment, I made my daughter believe that she has a big head. I wish I could just brush it off and say that she doesn’t really understand what she’s saying anyway, but (as I’m learning more and more lately) it’s never safe to assume that a baby doesn’t understand a concept.

I’ve always known that kids absorb information like sponges absorb water, but I never really stopped to think about the responsibility that puts on us as parents. Our kids are listening to everything we say and watching everything we do. It’s easy to assume that babies aren’t tuned into our conversations or TV shows, but they are taking in more than they let on. I have learned to never underestimate Reese's ability to pick up on what I say, remember my words and actions, and apply them at a later point in time. Whether I’m watching the news, arguing with Matt, talking on the phone, or getting her ready for a bath, she is listening and watching and learning. She will repeat my words and pick up my habits. She will follow my lead and be affected by my choices.

Whether we acknowledge it or not, we all live in a fish bowl. The bowl is tiny and the audience is impressionable. Choose your words wisely. Choose your actions carefully. And never tell your 20-month-old daughter that she has a big head. 

Your Day Off is Calling

No matter how good we are at our jobs, we all need a day off now and then. I loved my old job, but I still always looked forward to weekends, holidays, and vacations. Those breaks provided much needed time to nurture myself and my personal relationships and to remind me that my work is not the end all, be all of my existence. After a nice relaxing break, I would eagerly return to the job I loved with renewed energy and fresh ideas.

The single hardest thing about being a mother is the complete absence of these breaks. We don’t get evenings, weekends, sick days, vacation days, or holidays off from our mothering duties. We are on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week for our children. They are our whole world, and our love for them envelopes our whole heart. Even on days when I am not physically with Reese, my heart never leaves her. I wonder if she needs me, if she knows I’m coming back, or if something will happen to her in my absence. No matter where I go, my heart is always at home.

Although it’s wonderful most of the time, a job that offers no breaks eventually leads to burnout. Even the best moms get burnt out on the constant demands of life with children. We start to wonder if we’re the only ones struggling with the division of labor in our homes, the decline of intimacy in our marriages, or the behavior of our children. We see other moms who appear to be doing everything well and we feel inadequate, incompetent, and out of control. We view our imperfections as major flaws and our challenges as insurmountable weaknesses. We lose the ability to see the forest through the trees.

That’s why we need to find other ways to replenish our strength and restore our energy. We need a day that lets us celebrate the honorable role we play in the lives of our spouses and children. We need to surround ourselves with women who can validate our concerns, share our struggles, and rejoice in the amazing journey that we so often take for granted. We need to be reminded that our imperfections are normal, our bodies are beautiful, and our work is important. We need an experience that inspires us to become our best selves and to believe that our best is enough.

Registration is currently open for the annual Hearts at Home conference on March 16 & 17, 2012 at Illinois State University. It is a weekend full of celebration for the lives we lead and praise for the Lord who provides those lives for us. You will laugh, cry, and learn more than you ever thought possible in one single day. You will come away with the true belief that the sky really is the limit when it comes to all that you want for yourself, your marriage, and your children. You will reconnect with your faith, strengthen your commitment to your spouse, and deepen your love for your children and for yourself as their mother. If your heart is at home, this is your weekend. Your day off is calling.  

Register today at www.heartsathome.org.  

Divorce is Always an Option

I've been hearing about a lot of divorces lately, and not just among all of those superficial Hollywood relationships, but people I know; people I actually thought would make it. I'm bothered every time I hear about another divorce – not because I judge those couples. I don't know what happened to their relationships or whether our marriage could have survived if it happened to us. Rather, divorce bothers me because it reminds me of the vulnerability of my own marriage. Just like the tragic death of a young person reminds me of my own mortality and causes me to drive more carefully or take safety more seriously, when a seemingly happy couple throws in the towel, I remember that no marriage is completely divorce-proof.

I hear a lot of couples say very righteously, “Well, for us, divorce just isn’t an option.” As sweet as that sounds, I’m not really convinced that such a belief can provide a permanent safeguard for your marriage. For one thing, it can stifle your sense of freedom, leaving you feeling trapped as if you're not in your marriage by choice. Isn't it empowering to know that either one of you could leave at any time, but you stay because you choose each other every day? Believing that divorce isn't possible also provides a false sense of security that can blind you to the daily sacrifices and compromises that come with sharing every aspect of your life and yourself with another person. Rather, let us all remember that divorce is always an option because that’s the reality. I know people who have had a harder time breaking an apartment lease than filing for a divorce. 

I bet if you could rewind the clock to their wedding day, many divorced couples would never have predicted that their marriages would end the way they did. Some of them might claim that they had doubts from the beginning, but most people would not choose to marry someone if they knew for certain that divorce would be the result. Some of them might even be the same people who once said, “divorce is not an option,” but in the face of extreme negative emotions, it’s impossible not to be aware of that possibility.

As much as I would like to say that there's no possibility of Matt and I ever getting divorced, I know that's not necessarily the most realistic line of thinking. We're still in the early stages of our marriage, and there are plenty of rough times ahead. Our commitment to each other, support for each other, and faith in each other will no doubt meet their challenges over the years. There may even come a day when we find ourselves on the brink of calling it quits. As much as those thoughts can be scary, that possibility is what fuels us to find other ways to safeguard our relationship. It reminds us to nurture our marriage, take time for each other, and resist taking each other for granted. Most importantly, it encourages us to hold each other when we're tired, love each other when we're angry, and listen to each other even when we disagree because, despite what we often allow ourselves to believe, divorce is always an option. 

A Bunch of Swimming Ducks

If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck.

Okay, I get it. It’s an easy way to understand the type of inductive reasoning that allows us to determine what something probably is based on its observable characteristics. And although I get it, I’m not sure I understand why the comparative example is a duck. Why not say, if it’s striped like a zebra…, or if it’s tall like a skyscraper…, or if it’s flat like a spatula…? It’s not that I have anything against ducks, but I’m pretty sure that when it comes to ducks, what you see isn’t necessarily what you get.

Next time you see a swimming duck, just watch it for a minute or two. Watch how it glides through the water so beautifully, how it floats along so effortlessly. Looks peaceful, doesn’t it? But to the duck, it’s not necessarily effortless. Well, the floating part actually is effortless because ducks float naturally, but it still has to paddle to maintain its position and reach its destination. And the faster the current on the water, the faster that duck has to paddle to stay on course. But just by looking at a swimming duck, you can’t tell how fast it’s paddling. And that’s why ducks and moms have a lot in common.

Last fall I joined a Bible study for stay-at-home moms. We meet on Wednesday mornings, and we always start with coffee and small talk. As we discuss the verses that spoke to us or raise questions about unclear passages, we're each pretty clueless about the pace of each others' currents or how fast each of us is paddling to stay on track that week. All we know is that we all appear calm, collected, and organized on the surface.

Sometimes during our small talk, we land on the topic of stress and how we constantly feel like there’s so much to do and so little time to do it. I love those conversations because I walk away remembering that I’m not alone in feeling overwhelmed by the demands of everyday life. Although we all call ourselves stay-at-home moms, we’re all pretty involved in church and community activities and some of us work part-time jobs as well. At any given time, we all vary in the number of demands and stressors pulling each of us in different directions. Add in housework, errands, and children, and of course it’s easy to get a bit overwhelmed. Yet, there we sit every Wednesday, all calm and collected and ready for an hour of socializing and prayer. 

Sometimes when I'm around other moms, I wonder how it's possible that they're not stressed or overwhelmed or tired, and I wonder if they're asking themselves the same thing about me. Maybe we're all thinking, "She's got this figured out. I must be the crazy one," and maybe we're right; or maybe we're all just a bunch of swimming ducks.

Bringing Sexy Back

I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror at Walmart last week. I had on baggy sweatpants, a hooded sweatshirt, no makeup and a baseball hat covering my unwashed hair. I quickly turned away, and continued down the aisle. As I grabbed the rest of my groceries and headed home, I wondered what happened to the confident woman I used to see in the mirror. Something changed after I became a mom and as much as I try to rethink my attitude toward outward beauty, the physical aftermath of pregnancy still haunts me. When I mention my insecurities to Matt, he always tells me I’m crazy, and his actions and affection toward give me no reason to doubt his sincerity. So if he doesn’t see a difference, why do I?

I started wondering if maybe the problem isn’t pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, or motherhood. Aside from the fact that my bra got downgraded an entire cup size and I’ll probably never have a flat stomach again, all of my issues are much more related to my lifestyle than anything else. Now that I am busy being a mom, I don’t exercise as much or take time to do my nails. Now that I have nowhere important to go, I often skip the makeup and resort to sweatpants, t-shirts, and messy ponytails. Now that I don’t see anyone besides Reese and Matt on most days, it somehow got easier to skip a shower or go (I won’t even say how long) without shaving my legs. Then when I get a glance at myself in the mirror, I get upset and blame it all on motherhood as if I have no choice but to accept the disheveled new me.

Well, my Walmart pajama party was the last straw, and I decided to make some very simple changes. I started by rearranging my clothes. I moved all of the sweatpants, t-shirts, and anything equally unflattering to the back of my closet. I threw out any underwear with stretched elastic or frayed edges. My makeup and nail polish are now easily accessible and my hair ties and sports bras are not. Then, I started getting up extra early to exercise, shower, and get ready for the day just as I did when I worked full-time. No, I didn’t wear pantyhose or business suits, but I did put on a nice outfit and some makeup (even if my biggest outing that day would be a trip to the mailbox).

I was surprised at how quickly I started to feel beautiful again. When I first started staying home (after the newborn stage ended, of course) I got dressed almost every day. Then it was every other day; then just when I had the extra time; then just when I was going somewhere. And although I never got to a full-fledged pajamas-all-day-every-day stage, I’d say it was easily 50/50… ok, maybe even 60/40 with sweatpants in the lead. Before I knew it, I was wandering around Walmart in my pajamas and a baseball hat wondering how this happened.

Somewhere along the way, I started to believe that I didn’t need to look good anymore because it didn’t matter anyway. It does matter, though. Taking a little time for me every day makes a day at home just that much more productive and enjoyable. It helps my confidence, boosts my energy, and reminds me that my work is important. And the compliments from my husband have been pretty great too, which give me even more motivation to do it all over again the next day.

Now, don’t get me wrong. The comfy clothes aren’t gone for good, and I have nothing against wearing sweatpants to Walmart. I know I’ll still skip a shower here and there and I may not always keep up with shaving my legs as often as I’d like (sorry, honey). The difference is that now I can appreciate my lounging around days as an awesome perk of staying home rather than believing that’s all I’m worth now just because I don't have anywhere else to be.

If you’re proud of your role at home, and if you’re proud of yourself for making the sacrifice and the commitment to do it, then you deserve to be equally proud of the way you look while doing the job you love. So grab your yoga mats, nail polish, and makeup. Le'ts bring sexy back. 

Lessons from a Tiny Farmhouse

I just wrote the date at the top of a check and I realized it has been over a month since our move. I paused to think about all the luxuries I’ve been enjoying for the past few weeks – things like my basement, garage, dishwasher, linen closet, and pantry. I thought about how great it’s been to have plenty of storage space, room to exercise, and a guest bedroom for friends and family to visit. Then I thought about all the time I spent in our old house wondering if I would ever have those things and complaining about all the little inconveniences. Now, as I sit here in our new house, I look back and wonder how many moments were wasted on worry and how many memories didn’t get cherished because I was too busy longing for something better.

I recently returned to our old house to clean for the new renters to move in. Although our possessions are gone, each room still holds signs of our presence. There are marks on the bathroom wall from Matt knocking down the towel bar after almost every shower. There’s a faded silhouette from the wall art that hung above Reese’s crib: “Angels danced the day you were born.” And on the closet door in our old bedroom is one tiny handprint that I never could bring myself to wipe away.

As I cleaned each room, I thought about all the things we will never do in that house again. Some of the memories are ones I always knew I would cherish, like the nights we fell asleep together on the couch, the mornings when Matt’s parents came over for coffee, and the day we brought our new baby home from the hospital. Then there are the memories that seemed like such an inconvenience at the time; memories I never stopped to cherish but now wish I had. Like the times we raced down to Matt’s parents’ house in the pouring rain to wait out a tornado warning; or the times when we would both get up in the middle of the night to search the kitchen for a noisy cricket; or all the times we played “Scissors, Paper, Rock” to see who would be hand-washing the dishes that day. At the time, I never thought I would someday stand in that kitchen and cry because there were no more dishes to wash or crickets to smash.

It’s so easy to assume that we won’t miss something until the moment we realize that it’s in the past forever. Now I miss fogging crickets and scrubbing pots just as much as I miss rocking Reese in middle of the night, or her tiny fetal limbs jabbing my ribs. I miss those things as much as I might someday miss the long drive to town or the wood floors that seem to need sweeping every five minutes; or the way I’ll miss Reese’s constant dependency the day she no longer needs me to dress her, feed her, and change her.

As I get settled in this next phase of my life, I hope I always remember to hold the aggravating moments just as dear as the joyous moments. I hope for a renewed ability to find humor in the wake of frustration. I hope to spend less time worrying about my new inconveniences like the half-hour drive to town and my sudden inability to keep my home spotless, and I hope to spend more time enjoying the many blessings our new house provides. And most of all, I hope I stop in the midst of those aggravated sighs, frustrated eye rolls, and irritated scowls, and listen to the voice in my head that says, “Someday you will miss this.” That way, when someday comes, I won't stand in my empty kitchen and cry because I missed out on some of it. Instead I'll stand there and smile knowing that I fully lived all off it.

Here's to new beginnings. Happy 2012!

Where Have I Been?

Well, our official moving date is less than 2 weeks away, and considering my last post was November 8th, I guess I'm on an official blogging break. For those who are wondering where I've been, don't worry. I didn't fall off the Earth or anything. I'm just lost in a sea of bubble wrap and packing tape. Top that off with my insatiable need to over-organize every last box and a toddler whose's nap seems to get shorter every week, and it's no wonder why I've been MIA for the past month.

Truthfully, though, there is a little more to it than that. For one, when it comes to all of the events of the past few weeks, I am still quite speechless. Every day I wake up expecting to see the pictures back on the walls, wine glasses back in the cupboard, and Matt's blank stare as he asks, "What house?" I keep waiting for all of this to feel more real, but it just doesn't. In fact, given the situation, I won't be surprised if I wake up every day for the next 10 years thinking, "I can't believe I live here."

As a result of all this, I find myself thinking about little else these days. I devote all of my free time to packing, organizing, thumbing through decorating books, and thinking about all that we will be able to do with 5 times as much living space. I also spend a lot of time tweaking our budget and adjusting our spending limits to be sure that our new living arrangement doesn't affect my ability to stay home. At the end of the day, after packing a few boxes, responding to emails from our lending company and real estate agent, and putting yet another check in the mail for who-knows-what-fees, I barely have the mental energy to learn any lessons from dead bugs and post-it notes (much less write about them).

My other issue is that writing has become incredibly difficult since Matt went back to work in August. As a writer who needs extended periods of complete silence to produce anything worth posting, Reese's shortened nap schedule has been a major issue. When I first started writing, it was something I wanted to do for fun. Once it became harder to make time for it, the fun dwindled away and it started to feel like a chore. Last March (when I started this blog), I had a crawling infant who slept over 4 hours a day. Today, I have a running, jumping, climbing toddler who sleeps less than 2 hours a day (and some days not at all).

That doesn't mean I'm putting this aside forever, but it does mean that you won't be hearing from me every 3 days anymore. As much as I love writing, I can't allow it to take me away from the other important things in my life - like time for family, exercise, and prayer. I'll never understand how women with multiple children make time for daily blogs. If any of you are out there and have any advice for me, I will gladly take it. For now, I need a few more weeks to get moved and settled in the new house. Wish us luck and I'll be back in January!

I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

P.S. At the top, right-hand side of this page, you can enter your email address and new posts will automatically get emailed to you so you don't have to keep checking back.

The Blessing of a Lifetime

We made a lot of sacrifices when we became a single income family, but the hardest one was not being able to buy our own house. We have been renting a small farmhouse from Matt's parents for the past three and a half years and we often wondered if we would ever be in a position to own. Even when I was working, we passed up several opportunities to buy because we knew it would jeopardize my ability to stay home. When Matt got hired at his new job, we thought maybe we could finally afford a house. We knew it would still be a bit of a stretch and I might have to work part-time to make ends meet, but we decided to start looking.

That was six months ago. We started the process by saying a lot of prayers. We asked God to keep us open-minded, level-headed, and patient. We asked Him not to let us get carried away with unrealistic expectations and to steer us away from anything above our means. We asked Him to keep us hopeful when deals fell through and humble if we ever did succeed. And if all that wasn't too much to ask, we jokingly threw in a request for a nice ranch-style home out in the country with lots of trees and a big master bathroom - the vision of the dream house Matt and I created when we first got married, but knew we could probably never afford.
 
Next, we had to decide on a price range and we came up with three possibilities: (1) what we could afford if I didn't work at all; (2) what we could afford if I worked part-time; and (3) what we couldn't afford. We always checked the price of new listings before we looked at anything else. We figured there was no point in falling in love with anything in range number three. Finally, we had to pick a location. We knew we wanted to move closer to Matt's work and we love the small towns and the schools in that area. Unfortunately, there aren't many houses for sale at any given time in a school district full of such small towns. We didn't find much at all in our price range. Over six months, we saw only 4 houses.

We never got discouraged, though. We put all our faith in God and we both believed with 100% certainty that He would provide for us, just as He always has. We even fell in love with one house, but we encountered obstacles with the seller (it was a FSBO listing) and we were very uncertain about the price because it would have been a stretch even if I did work part-time. Since we had agreed not to push past any uncertain feelings, we walked away. We took the obstacles as a sign that it wasn't meant for us. Still, we were disappointed and wondered how it might be possible that anything better could come along.

Then last week, we got a listing for a log cabin. Neither of us has ever been interested in living in a log cabin, and it was almost out of our price range. Still, we felt an urge to go see it, but we didn't know why. Our realtor set up a showing. We hated it. What a waste of time... or so we thought.

The next day, I got an email from our realtor saying that he had driven past a home for sale on his way back from the log cabin. It had only been on the market for a few days. I looked at the price, and it was in price range number one (which meant that I could still stay home full-time). Most of the houses we found in price range number one needed so much work that we couldn't afford the repairs, so I wasn't very hopeful, but I opened the listing anyway and looked at the details. It was brand new (built in 2009) and was easily enough space for us to raise a few kids without ever needing to move again. I was sure this was some kind of mistake. Without skipping a beat (or consulting Matt) I immediately told our realtor to get us in there.

We fell in love the minute we pulled in the driveway. Before we got too excited, I asked our realtor about the price. He's a successful builder in town and a trusted family friend, so we knew he would give us a straight answer. It's a long story, but it turns out that the house is very well built and the price has nothing to do with its condition. The people had to move for personal reasons, and they needed it sold fast. We made an offer last Thursday. An hour later, the house was ours. If all of the inspections go well, we'll be living there by Christmas.

For the past four days we've been walking around in complete disbelief. We feel like we won the lottery. I break down in tears several times a day - tears of joy for this dream come true, tears of gratitude for the Lord who gave us this incredible gift, and tears of confusion as I wonder how we could possibly deserve such an amazing blessing.  By the way, it's a ranch in the country with lots of trees. Oh, and the master bathroom is awesome.

Lessons from a Haircut

For the past few months, Reese’s hair has been hanging in her face. She has a cowlick at the back of her head that causes all of her hair to come forward instead of falling to the side. I can’t keep it to the side without a clip, but that’s a major problem for Reese. Every time I put a bow or clip in her hair, she pulls it off. If I stop her from grabbing it, she starts to cry and says, “off, off, off…” until I give in and take it out (which usually takes all of about 10 seconds). Over the past 6 months, I’ve made fewer and fewer attempts to do anything more than brush her hair once or twice a day. 

Once her hair grew long enough to hang in her eyes, I started trying to clip it back again. She wasn’t having any of it and usually just ran around all day with the ends of her bangs blocking part of her vision. She makes rare exceptions for headbands and a ponytail is always preceded by a wrestling match, which I refuse to subject her to every day. I didn’t want to cut her hair because I wanted it to grow long and I didn’t want her bangs to start all the way at the back of her head. But my kid couldn’t see and she hates having stuff clipped in her hair and maybe, just maybe, this isn't about what I want.

In fact, I’m not even sure why I wanted this in the first place. Anyone who knows me would probably agree that I'm not girly at all. I don't own a lot of pink stuff; I don't wear a lot of jewelry; and I'd probably cry and say "off, off, off" if someone put a big sunflower clip in my hair. So why am I always pushing it on Reese? Well, probably because I got caught up in that invisible societal pressure that pushes femininity on our daughters and masculinity on our sons. 

The scary thing is that I’ve always said I would encourage her independence and not force her into anything. Yet, there I was going against my belief because I wanted her to wear ribbons and bows in her long hair like all the other little girls. I guess it’s easy to say that you’ll do something until you’re actually challenged to do it. And if I can’t do it with her haircut, how will I do it when it’s something that really matters to me? 

Over the next 17 years, there will be lots of times where my interests clash with Reese’s interests, needs, or desires. As a parent, I owe it to her to put my agenda aside and to refrain from pushing anything on her just because I think she should look a certain way or have certain interests. So I decided to give Reese the hairstyle she needed instead of the one I wanted her to have. It bothers me that it took me so long to give up on the clips, and that I almost put my interest above hers, even if it was about something as silly as a haircut. I finally ended up putting her in the chair and saying, “just make it so she can see without needing a clip in it.” And, ya know what? She still just as cute.