Balance

Balance. Juggling. Teetering on the edge of 'having it all together' and 'watching it all fall apart'. There is no recipe. I think what I mean is being able to let go of unrealistic expectations that I’ve put on myself in exchange for a reality that is less than perfect, and more filled with grace. 

I was wrapped up in what others may think of me for a long time. I felt like I was in this awful place like limbo. Stuck. Where did I fit? I didn’t. I looked around and saw no one that I could relate to. I am an emotional, relational being by nature. I tend to navigate life through words and feelings. Like echolocation. I bounce off of the words and experience of others and sort out what feels right and truthful to me and let more of that into my world. It’s much easier to put into words now. Back then I just felt out of control. 

When we started our family there was no one I knew in the same situation as me. With no point of reference to anchor me, I fell to extremes. I took what I thought being a mom, wife, college-ager looked like and tried to manifest those perceptions. It was overwhelming. A foundation set up for failure. 

Part of the healing process (and a big part of our lives from then on) has been intentionally having conversations with Mike about what is important to us. These conversations become a compass of sorts, one that keeps us on track and moving towards the family we want to be. 

For our family what this looks like (ever evolving!) may be abandoning the chores for the evening and foregoing a cooked dinner in lieu of hurriedly packed picnic food and a long bike ride to the lake. It may mean that we opt out of a get-together with friends for a family hike in the mountains. Or that we kiss bedtimes goodbye and have a movie night. It may mean that after a particularly stressful day, Mike takes the kids to the library so I can decompress by watching tv and taking a long shower (without kids in the bathroom with me! Win!) Balance may mean being intentional about carving out time to reconnect, because even living in the same house, there are times where Mike and I seem to be on clouds that float by each other, co-existing but not really interacting.

As I write this, there is a big boy reading upstairs, girls doing math on either side of me, a baby driving a train on the floor next to my chair, and Thomas and Friends on the tube. And we’re all in our pjs at 11:30 am. We aren’t living in a magazine. It’s far from the picture of perfection that had a hold on me so many years ago, but it’s our perfect. It fits. And every day we get to live this crazy life, I am amazed and grateful.

Father's Day 2015

June 21^st was epic. We celebrated our favorite guy by giving him more of us. More time. More laughter. More words.

The morning was lazy and slow. Lots of cuddles, some impromptu dancing. We took off late morning. He knew nothing (though I bet he suspected much, I’ve never been good at keeping things from him!) and climbed into the passenger seat with only a little grumbling. My guy is used to being in the know. He likes knowing what to expect. His trust was a gift to me on his day. 

After picking up some lunch, we found a nearby park and picnicked there. The kids went around the table (save Levi) and told Daddy the many things they appreciate about him. Safe to say- this man is loved endlessly. They love his strong arms, the way he cooks bacon. They love how happy he is when he gets home and appreciate how unhappy in makes him to leave. They love that he tickles them until they almost lose it, his smile, his humor. Him.

Before we pulled away from the park Mike got blind-folded with one of their jackets and we headed over to his BIG surprise- Indoor Skydiving! I think the kids and I were as excited as he was. I wondered how the kids would react to the news that he could only pick one of them to fly with him. My girls made me so proud. Mike decided that Jace would be the one. Without skipping a beat, the girls started cheering and congratulating him. They told him how happy they were for him. Made. My. Day.

Jace flew first. I could see him going over the information the instructor gave him. Hold your arms this way, hands that way, head up. He’s so intense sometimes. Like his Daddy. Jace flew well. It was obvious that he paid attention! Mike hopped in next. Ha! If you could have heard the squeals coming from our girls and Levi! They had all the people around us smiling. It all seemed so appropriate. He is our superman in so many ways. Of course he should fly.

I’m so thankful for this man who knows that, love? It’s a verb. He loves them, loves us with a million actions and intentional choices every single day. From the choice to rise before the sun and be at work at 7am so that he can be home early enough to spend the maximum amount of time with us before our littles hit the sack, to dancing in the kitchen with their mama and kissing her at red lights. He shows them his love for them every time he walks in the door after a long day and a tedious commute and lets them attack him with hugs and kisses. He doesn’t hold our babies at arm’s length, instead he melts into them, genuinely happy to be with his favorite people. He makes choices with the end in mind, with our best interests front and center. One day, they’ll understand how incredibly blessed they are that he is theirs. 

As for me, I look at him and still see my teenage sweetheart. I’ll fall for him every season of our life.