You're Different

“You’ve changed. You’re different.”

Well... Isn’t that kind of the point?

To change, I mean. To become better versions of ourselves over time.

Why do people only view growth as a bad thing if, by their definition, it’s “different”?

Life isn’t meant to be lived inside a box. Keep learning. Keep growing. Keep doing hard things. Apologize for the past and continue moving forward. Keep becoming more.

More knowledgeable. More heartfelt. More intentional. More well rounded. More caring. More understanding. More of whatever you want to be.

Change can be good. Uncomfortable, sure. But different isn’t *always* bad.

Don’t be afraid to become more of who you know you’ve always been - and who you already are.

This originally appeared on Facebook.

Sometimes I'm a Bad Friend

Sometimes I’m a bad friend.

I’m sorry I cancel plans at the last minute. I’m sorry I’m not always reliable. I’m sorry I read your texts and sometimes respond hours later.

I’m sorry I say “YES!” whenever things are brought up, only to inevitably later say no when reality checks in for me.

I promise I mean well. I truly do. It’s just that time isn’t solely my own anymore. I’m still adjusting to it myself.

These kids take all of me most days. Am I grateful? OF COURSE. But I can be grateful and tired too. Sometimes there isn’t enough of me to go around.

Mamas have been wearing too many hats this year, but I think I can say we are finally getting the hang of it. (Maybe?)

If you need someone to vent to, I’m here. If you want someone to lean on, call me.

If you show up on my doorstep, I will welcome you in with open arms. As long as you promise to ignore the disaster that is the inside of my home.

I know I may not always seem like best friend material, but I’m still here.

Sometimes I just have puke bowls to clean and floors to mop.

I’m still cheering for you. Still praying for you. Still rooting you on. Still here for you.

I promise.

Sometimes it just has to be from afar.

This originally appeared on Facebook.

I'm Not a Baby Lady

I’m not a baby lady.

Nope. 2+ is my jam. They can walk, talk & mostly feed themselves. They sleep late. They can be potty trained. 

They light up when they learn something new. They are filled with the desire to please. They love BIG. They know few boundaries. They say hi to strangers and then proceed to tell them all about their favorite toy truck. They give out hugs like it’s their job. 

2+ is FUN. It’s weird. It’s chaos. There are tantrums and some long nights. There are many (oh. so. many.) tears as they try to navigate this complicated thing called life that the rest of us have a major head start on. 

Don’t get me wrong, babies are a slice of Heaven and magic in the purest form. They bring snuggles and so much love. I enjoy that first milestone filled year, too. 

But toddlers are something else. I think I was made for it. 

I like dance parties and eating cupcakes just because. I like saying YES to random requests, even though I often feel like all I say is no. I like living a few hours each day with no limits, because let’s be honest, toddlers don’t have any. 

My son has started calling me Mom lately. I’m not ready for it. My baby, my boy, the little dude that turned my world upside down - I’m not Mama to him anymore. I’m Mom. It makes me sad. 

But, it also fills me with hope. 

Hope that I’ll love each stage of his little life more than the last. Hope for my family. Hope for the future. 

Hope is a wonderful thing and toddlers are full of it. 

Maybe that’s why I love this stage so much.

This originally appeared on Facebook.

I'm Tired of Politics

Four years ago I wouldn’t have been writing this. You could find me reading news articles, engaging in debates online, spewing my opinion whether it was asked or not, and generally looking to absorb any information regarding politics I could find. I even wrote an article about my stance on a particular political topic that went viral (which I won’t link here because it got me lots of hate mail and that sometimes still keeps me up at night).

Now that is not the case. Call me a hypocrite if you wish; by definition I guess that is the correct label.

I’m a big fan of democracy. I think voting is our duty as citizens and I think it should be held in high regard. I believe we all have rights to believe what we want to believe, support things we are passionate about, and have a voice in who runs our government. It’s my personal conviction that we are subject to our government and should abide by the laws of our land; and if you don’t like the laws, then figure out a way to bring attention to the cause, educate others, get people to vote, and turn the table.

But I don’t believe that we should be unpleasant or unkind to people that don’t think the same way we do. Opinions aren’t facts. When did we all start treating them as such? When did politics make us all so ugly?

Read the rest over on Knoxville Moms.

We Don't Deserve Dogs

We don’t deserve dogs. 

A few days ago there was a lapse in communication between me and my husband that resulted in our dog being left outside until 2:30 AM. I woke up in the middle of the night, noticed she wasn’t in our room and panicked. My heart sank and my stomach dropped out of my body when I realized she never got let inside for the night. 

She was our baby long before our children came along. We used most of our college savings to get her and then the emergency vet trips took the rest as we navigated through the puppy years of: eat everything in sight. 

She’s taken a backseat since we’ve had human kids; I can’t deny that. Sometimes I forget she’s around on the rough days. I feel guilty mostly because I think she deserves more of me than I give her. And then I think of the kids. 

She has all the patience in the world as our babies try to figure out her soft fur and long tail. She doesn’t bat an eye when the toddler drives trucks along her back or little hands hold on to the end of a leash. She has more patience than I do, without a doubt. She’s the best listener in our house and almost always the only one to respond to a request the first time. 

She’s a gem. I don’t deserve her. I’ve always known that, but it really sank in when I thought she was gone in the wee hours of the morning last week. 

Thanks for always being there, Heidi. You have never questioned my parenting even though you have been the one to experience the worst, and first, of it. 

I promise I won’t forget you outside again. Or at least if I do, I’ll make sure to think of you before 2:30AM.