fruit snacks do not define individual worth

Conner's birthday was on a Friday.

Which means that he went to school on his birthday.

And that equates to classroom treats for his friends.

I grocery shop on Wednesday.

Which means that I don't want to make an additional trip on Friday.

And that equates to prepackaged treats for friends bought on Wednesday.

I buy the fruit snacks for his class on Wednesday.

Which means that I am happy to have one less item on my to-do list.

And that equates to less stress for me.  Yeah!

But as I am swiping my credit card to finalize the purchase, I have a major anxiety attack.

Which means that I begin to question my decision to avoid a shopping trip on Friday.

And that equates to doubts about my parenting.  Cupcakes are the secret ingredient to raising a happy kid... right?

The main formula of raising good kids?  I was replacing it with small packets of fruit snacks.

Which means that my hands got tight and my heart started to run a silent marathon.

And that equates to failure.  I broke an invisible motherhood rule!  Complete failure.

I called my mom, my mother-in-law, my sister-in-laws, and my dead dog.

Which means that I was seeking validation to prove that I am okay as a mother and individual.

And that equates to me questioning my natural instincts, my desires to serve, and ultimately who I am deep down.

I must be lazy.  Withholding cupcakes to avoid an extra shopping trip is no way to love.   

Which means that I am a very bad person.   

And that equates to shame.  Complete and utter shame.   I am a failure.  Incapable of loving and serving those around me.

In the end, I learned that fruit snacks are awesome treats for classroom parties.  Because of two words.  Easy. Cleanup. 

Which means that I worried about fruit snacks and cupcakes for no darn reason.

And that equates to an unnecessary emotional-beat-up.

I learned that my feelings of shame originate in my desire to please the world all the time.

Which means that I want everyone to believe that I am that perfect mother that always walks the extra mile. 

And (in all honesty) that image equates to a lot of worry and planning and executing.   And it is exhausting.

Heavenly Father, in the end, doesn't love me more if I buy class room treats for my kids.
Which means that He doesn't want me to even try to appear perfect to the women at my church, school, and neighborhood. 
And that equates to freedom.  Freedom to be me.

Me.  100% crazy me.  He loves me unconditionally,

Which means that He loves my dreams of writing stories, healthy food obsessions, and imagination.

And that equates to joy and happiness and love -  when I find the courage to love myself unconditionally just like He does.

And in the end, trying to appear perfect hurts myself and the people that surround me.

Which means that the people I love then feel pressure to do more and be more.

And that equates to a lot of contention and jealousy in my little world.  

To which I choose to say, "No Thank you."
Which means that I do not need cup cakes and fruit snacks to love you.
And that equates to me loving you for the good person you are.  Thank you for sharing your true self with me.

sometimes you have to slow down to be more

I have an excel sheet tucked away in my files.
An excel sheet that rules my life with schedules and chore charts and budgets and meal planning.

It kind of rules my life.
And I am not okay with that.

I watch amazing women that have incredible talents.  They cook amazing dishes, keep immaculate houses, iron their husbands shirts, and somehow still have time for me.  And I wonder how they have the time.  I convince myself that I must be lazy.  I need to try harder. 

Viola!  Here comes the excel sheet.
With categorized highlighted boxes that sing "You can do it all Angie."

I hate that melody.
Because I can not do it all.
And I do not want to... either.

As mothers and wives and neighbors and friends... why do we naturally feel jeopardized if someone else can do something that we can not?  Why do we worry so much about what other people think about our parenting capabilities, our lifestyle, and our choices?  So much of my life has been dedicated to putting on a strong front.  One that screams "Hello, my name is Angie and I can do it all."

I hate putting on a front and competing.
I hate hiding who I really am.
And I hate looking at the women around me with fear that I do not measure up.

Competing is more than just trying to be better than someone else.  Competing thrives on contention, jealousy, and bitterness.  It destroys happiness, creativity, charity, and joy.   

"We women have a lot to learn about simplifying our lives.  We have to decide what is important and then move along at a pace that is comfortable for us.  We have to develop the maturity to stop trying to prove something.  We have to learn to be content with what we are."

- Marjorie Pay Hinckley 

I love her words.
Find the courage to embrace your own pace.
Stop trying to prove something.
Be content with who you are today.

When I focus on the things I can not do, I miss the joy of acknowledging the things that I can do.  Comparing and competing has to stop if I am ever going to find contentment with who I am deep down.  Finding my own pace requires courage because it involves learning to say "no."   

I am working on constructing imaginary walls inside my brain.  Walls that prohibit my thoughts from dwelling upon what other people think or say about me.  I am learning to be more content with who I am right now.  And I am learning to slow down and find my own pace.  A pace that allows a little more time for naps and books and pajamas and "mom write time." And instead of competing, I am learning to express more gratitude for the talents of other individuals that bless my life.

I know that greatest gift I can give the world is an understanding and charitable heart.  A heart that always looks for the best in those I come in contact with.  And I want to be more of that person.  I want to rid my soul of the competitive-want-to-be-super-mom-excel person that I was becoming.    

Nelson Mandela once said that when we let our light shine, we unconsciously give the people around us permission to let their light shine as well.

I dare you to stand out and let your true light shine.  Give yourself and the women around you permission to be broken and imperfect and honest.... it will change the world. 

being me

I have this lie in my head that tells me that I will be a good mother when:

• I learn to sew
• I spend more time crafting
• I play on the floor more with my kids
• My house is perfectly clean
• Lose weight
• And I stop thinking about myself so darn much...

Can anyone else relate?

So as a result, I push away from who I am deep down.  I run away from the things that make me happy and I focus on becoming that template "super mom" that are seen running around on blogs and pinterest.

And then life really starts to stink.

I lose my ability to have fun, because there is so much racing around to do.
I need to do more, be more, have more...

And that feeling never creates happiness.

When I take a step away from the person I think I am supposed to be and I actually start becoming the person that I am deep down, I am more happy.  Colors are more vivid and life is more complete.  For a long time, I have believed that my desires to write stories, my compiled Word documents, and the stacks of books on the book shelf equate to selfishness.  I try to give into the things I love, but the guilt topples me over.  Voices inside my head scream words that sound something like, "If you really loved your kids, you wouldn't be spending so much time pursuing anything else."   

Taking steps away from the person I think I should be and embracing who I am deep down is powerful.  Ignoring the guilt and the self-criticism is hard... but necessary.  Because for too long, I ran around trying to be a cookie-cutter of someone that I am not - and it did not make me happy.

Imaginary worlds with fictional characters and their stories opens my heart.  I think it is crazy... and I don't understand why, but it does.  When I allow myself time to embrace those worlds, my heart opens wider and I love deeper because it is who I truly am deep down.  The best part is that my boys love my stories too.

The "super mom" that my kids need me to be has been inside me all along - I just didn't know that she looked just like me.

I really believe that the majority of kids do not care how creative or amazing their mom is - kids simply want to be loved... unconditionally.  I am learning that to love in this way, I need to be centered in my beliefs about who I am.  I love deeper and more fully when I allow myself to be me. 

To love more fully, Angie needs time to be alone, to experience quietness and peace.  I need time to write and embrace the things that make me happy outside of being a mother, and I am more me when I have this time. 

And the amazing thing?
When I take time for me - the house cleans up faster, the kids cooperate more, and I am 100% happy.


Repeat after me:

"Bringing my best self to the world is important.  The world needs me to be me.  I can do good things for myself and those around me at the same time."

mr. first grader

Sometimes I have to remind myself that motherhood is more than snuggling babies and changing diapers.
Motherhood is about holding on tight and then slowly letting go.
  


Conner started first grade today.
He is Mr. First Grader... and he couldn't be happier. 

His number for the year is number 6.
Which is totally cool because his birthday is this week and he will be turning six years old.

His day begins with English classes in the morning and Chinese Immersion in the afternoon.
And on the way to school this morning Conner blurts out:

 "Mom, the gift of tongues is awesome.  I am so praying for that."



Packed lunches in star wars lunch boxes are exciting.
Thoughts of his lunch box kept him awake most of the night. 
And brothers giving hugs and kisses goodbye put big smiles on his face.



First Grade baby... here we go!

the day the tree fell down

We cut it down.  Hauled it away.  Removed it.

Goodbye big tree with your bazillion pine needles.

five-year-old girl

Colton has decided that his is five years old.
And he is a girl.

I know I should not encourage his false belief,
but this may be the closest I get to having a little girl of my own :)

becoming yourself

Words can not express how challenging the last couple of months have been,

Believe me,
I've tried.

Entangled in the blues,
life has been extremely hard to tame.
I haven't had the courage to write about it.

For a long time, I have believed that the web is the ideal place to display my victories,
rally up that self-esteem,
and prove to the world that I am "hot stuff."

It began to hurt too much,
to read the victories of others,
and silently wonder what was wrong with me.

Time-outs (at times) are successful.
I said a brief goodbye to facebook, blogger, and pinterest,
hoping to give myself some time to think of what my life is really about. 

In all honesty,
my heart is bursting,
I can not hold it in any longer.

I am broken,
imperfect,
and I can not do it all.

Expressing vulnerabilities is scary,
frightening,
and simultaneously healing.

Because I need to share,
and I hope that my words,
might help and uplift someone else.


Shedding the need to appear perfect,
is hard and painful,
and amazing.

Finding the courage to trust myself,
is challenging,
and overwhelming.

And that rainbow in the sky?
I think it is finally peaking through the clouds of vulnerability, courage, and hope.