Not Okay

I sat there looking across the table at my sweet 4-year-old daughter's face, the Princess Aurora replica crown sitting on her head resting up against the tiara she had gotten from her Nana. The shimmery pink of the princess dress catching the sunlight through the lights of the tearoom windows and the shine of the glitter brightening up the table. I watched as she carefully sipped her "tea" (apple juice) and set it down on the saucer. She encouraged me to drink my tea and gave me a half-smile while she did so.

I picked up my teacup and pretended to look away while I sipped on my fancy hibiscus something-or-other tea. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shoulders slip and the smile fade. I saw her eyes let their tired out and relax for a minute while gazing off in the distance.

We sat there in the Disney Grand Floridian Tearoom surrounded by many other little princesses and their moms & dads, sipping from fancy teacups and awaiting our fancy plates of teatime food listening to Princess Rose Petal tell us the story of Sleeping Beauty. I had been waiting for this special surprise time with my little girl for 6 months since we booked and paid for the experience ahead of time not knowing that a boy sitting behind my daughter on the plane would cough non-stop for 3-hours and likely be the one to give her a cold accompanied by a mild fever. We didn't know that we'd be debating whether or not to swallow the cost and let her spend her morning flopped in hotel room to rest or give in to her begging for her very special Mommy & Evie surprise and allow her to go anyways. We didn't know we'd ACTUALLY be using the thermometer to check for fevers and nursing a 100.5 temperature with ibuprofen instead of just holding them to the side hoping we wouldn't have to use them.

I looked at my sweet girl sitting across the table from me and watched as she gave a little sniffle before picking up her cup and sipping on her juice again. She caught me watching her and put the big smile back on her face, not knowing that her eyes were giving her away.

"Sweetie," I said, "you know... I know you're not feeling 100% today. That's OK. We can just enjoy the tea relaxed. Don't feel like you have to sit super tall, OK? It's OK to not be OK."

"OK, Mom. Thanks. I'm OK."

And the smile stayed on for the rest of the tea.

My 4-year-old daughter had already begun to learn the fine art of pretending everything is A-OK.

My heart. My heart broke a little bit in that moment.

Why do we think that being "not-OK" is not allowed? Why do we walk around and cover up the hurt, anger, sadness, and negative emotions we carry? Why do we not allow ourselves to be vulnerable and honest?

How are you? "I'm fine." It's part of our culture, the answer is almost reflexive. But how many of us say "Oh, I'm fine..." when really - we're not fine at all? Or maybe we're just enough not fine that it saddens us to say those words when really we just want to say "You know... I could use a hug/encouragement/break"?

My 4-year-old had already learned this skill, the art of being "fine".

It's OK to not be OK.

Say it out loud, right now. Stop what you're doing and say it out loud: It's OK to not be OK. It's absolutely alright to be a little down, to be grieving, to feel a little off, to have a grouchy day.

And say this: It's OK for other people to not be OK. It's OK to have that awkward not knowing what to say feeling for a few minutes just to allow someone else the freedom to be not OK if that's what they're feeling at that given moment. It's alright to allow someone else the ability to be vulnerable and to let their feelings show.

Imagine a world where people felt like they could be honest with their feelings 100% of the time. Where we didn't feel like we'd have to hide when we weren't OK lest we be judged for being discontent or intentionally miserable. A place where those feelings were allowed to be discussed and processed and FELT.

A world where my 4-year-old daughter didn't have to feel like she had to sit tall and proper in a Disney tearoom even though she had a cold annoying enough to be functional but make her stuffed up and a little sleepy.

Why does my 4-year-old know this skill already?

Then I realized... I am guilty of practicing this. Of putting on the smiling, put-together face on days when I'm exhausted, anxious, angry, or otherwise. Of saying that everything is fine or that I'm OK - even to my own kids and husband - when really, I'm off a bit.

When I realized this, that I had taught her the fine art of "being OK"... my heart broke a little bit more. The worst is coming to the realization that you're part of the problem - especially when it comes to your kids.

I challenge all of us - myself included - to be a little more honest with ourselves. To be a little more vulnerable to those who care about us. To allow ourselves the ability to NOT be OK. To share when we're tired. To be raw when we feel raw.

And I challenge all of us to support one another. To love on each other and to not judge and to allow each other the ability to share our true feelings when "fine" isn't ACTUALLY what we're feeling.

I want to live in a world where I feel like I can just be all the shades of me - the good, the bad, the sad, the ecstatic - and not just have my highlight reel define me. I want to live in a world where my kids can feel like they can be sad freely, be joyous without abandon, and feel and display ALL of their emotions to the world. Where they can inspire others to do the same.

I think we can start by being honest and vulnerable with ourselves. Once we can do that, we can be honest and vulnerable with others as well. Allow yourself the freedom to feel whatever it is that you're feeling, then allow yourself to share that with others. If you're fine - be the best fine you can be. If you're down - allow yourself to work through that. If you're tired - allow yourself to be honest about that and rest. If you're full of joy - spread it.

It's OK to not be OK. It's OK to be OK.

It's OK to be.

So... how ARE you?

Two Steps Behind

Sometimes when you're a parent, everything can seem like a blur. Days can seem like endless cycles... Clean the playroom, go to the bathroom, eat your dinner, get ready for school, is it bedtime yet, you need a bath, stop annoying your sibling, don't ask me about getting a pet again, yes we can read a story, yes you can color as soon as you clean the playroom, please only jump off the couch to the mat one person at at time - and stop doing it until the playroom is clean or you'll bust your face and break your toys, oh hey it's bedtime, please be still so I can brush your teeth, get your pajamas on, say five things you're thankful for, pray, tuck in, didn't you just go to the bathroom - why are you up, collapse, sleep, repeat tomorrow.

And that was just the evening.

You go ahead and splash... I'mma sit in the garage and stay dry.

But sometimes parenting affords you the opportunity to just slow down and watch.

This summer we took a lot of outings. We went to our favorite seashore state park, we went on hikes on local trails, we checked out the aquarium, we went to our favorite indoor playground, we visited the Clydesdales.

Those of you with kids know that there comes a point when the reality hits you that your children are no longer completely dependent on you and with this comes a whole range of emotions. Some parents feel freedom at no longer constantly needing to feel strapped to a dependent being. Some parents feel sadness at the loss of the baby days, the snuggles and baby smells and stretchy little baby fingers and squishy baby faces. There's a whole litany of feelings that come along with realizing that your kids are entering "the next phase".

There was a point as I was following my kids ride their bikes one day that it occurred to me that I was taking a lot of pictures this summer of the BACK of my children. Behind them while they rode their bikes, behind them while they balanced across rocks, behind them while they led the way through the woods. From a bench while they climbed play structures and slid down slides. From the shore of the lake while they splashed around in their floaties, ready to get up and pull them in as necessary. The moments in which I needed to direct, to guide, to reign in, to make sure they were immediately at my side are diminishing. My children require the guidelines and rules of whatever activity we are doing, to be reminded to go to the bathroom, provided food for the occasion.

At five and three, I went from needing to be integral to their activities to being two steps behind them at all times. Close enough to intervene, far enough to allow independence.

Swimmies on, Mom's watchful eye 20 yards away...

The feeling that I felt at this: Amazement.

Here are these beings that just a few short years ago required me for everything. And little by little they learned new skills and built on those skills and got stronger and faster and formed opinions and desires and have their own motivations - and now here we are.

I follow them on foot, power walking as they pedal along in front of me. I remind them to stay on the path as they lead the way on beaten paths in forests. I stay close by as they climb rocks, ready to reach out a hand or grab them when they need support.

I am amazed at how they have grown, how they have developed, and how they no longer need me to the same degree to do certain things. And while I long for the day when I no longer hear the words shouted through the house "MOM - I NEED MY BUTT WIPED!!!", I rest in these moments when they straddle between relying on me and relying on themselves.

As they continue to grow, I know that the gap between needing me and not needing me will do the same. That they will learn to properly wipe their own backside, to walk themselves into school, to make their own snacks, to get up on their own without waking me up, to go out with their friends alone, to drive, to go to college, to become their own people with their own lives.

Because yes, I've already made it clear to them that they will not live in my house when they grow up. We've compromised and they can live next door. In their own house. But not here.

Take flight, kiddos...

Here's the thing - as our kids grow, as WE GREW... their parents - OUR parents - were always two steps behind them. Those two steps look differently as they grow. Now I walk behind their bikes and wait on benches at the park. Soon it will be waiting on a bench at the mall while they do their own Christmas shopping and "Meet me back here in 45 minutes". Then it will be reminding them that all they need to do if they're ever in a situation they aren't comfortable in is to pick up the phone and I'll come and get them. Then it will be telling them what finding a job is like, what relationships are like. Relaying my experiences, drying tears, driving to jobs, bringing chicken soup to college dorms (if they live close).

Helping them when they move into their first home, have their weddings, and start families.

As our children learn skills, we too are learning. We are learning what it's like to raise up and let go, all the while providing an appropriate safety net for them to fall into if they need it.

When they need it.

Right behind you guys...

We are learning what it looks like to always be two steps behind.

Top 5 Things I Won't Miss About the Toddler/PreK Phase

In approximately a week and a half I'll begin the process hated by parents everywhere of training my child to use the toilet and no longer urinate and defecate at will in their pants. Seriously - have you ever heard a parent say "Boy, I can't wait to start potty training!" because I certainly haven't.

Potty training is tedious, frustrating, and boring. I would rather wake up every 2 hours to nurse again, and I've already shared my thoughts with you all about babyhood and not missing it.

But... since kids can't crap their pants forever... here I am, getting ready to potty train my daughter - the more headstrong of my two children - and release her from the chains of the diaper.

And this has got me thinking. I LOVE this phase with my kids. They're adorable, they play together really well, they haven't gotten a verbal filter yet so some of the things that come out of their mouths are hilarious, they're discovering how things work and how to navigate the world and take healthy risks. They're at the perfect age for short day trips and still nap in the car allowing us to take longer adventures sometimes. And the best part - they still think I'm cool and awesome, and so there are pretty much endless snuggles, hugs, kisses, high-fives, and silliness abounds.

There are things, however, that I won't miss about this stage. And so I give you, in no particular order...

1. Diapers - Since I've already opened this door, I might as well close it. I've managed to find decent diapers at a good price at our closest Aldi's, but I'm still spending $37.47 for 216 diapers for one kid each month. That's $449.64 in diapers for an entire year - and I just recently found them at that price, which means I had been paying more than that. So let's say $500-600/year on diapers for ONE kid, and for Evie's first year of life I was diapering 2 kids. Go on and vomit now on how much I've spent in diapers, and if you've got more than two kids go on and vomit twice. Do you have any idea what I could be doing for FUN with $500-600/year with my kids? Like... a lot of things. that's what. Never mind that there's very little appealing about wiping up a behind full of squished, disgusting poop that either I didn't smell or a kid didn't alert me to right away and is now smeared all over their behind rather than being in a nice neat little patty with simple wiping required for cleanup. As much as I hate potty training, it's temporary and then I won't have to worry about diapers again.

Pro Tip Find a "family restroom" with a single
toilet and a mirror. Entertainment!
(as long as they don't lick it...)

2. Wiping Behinds in General: My 4.5-year-old son started potty training when he was 3 and recently has gotten tall enough (he's a little guy) to be able to stand up to pee at the toilet or at a little kid urinal. This has given him more independence in going to the bathroom and along with this more confidence. Mom, however, has not let go of the reigns when it comes to wiping his behind after a number-2 evacuation. I just... I don't quite trust his balance to reach back to wipe his bum without falling in the toilet yet. But he has a knack of knowing the exact wrong times to sneak into the bathroom to drop a deuce... like when I'm in the middle of washing dishes or my personal favorite - changing his sister's smooshed, disgusting, poopie diaper (because she can never have an easy poopie diaper when her brother needs to take a crap). Yes, I look forward to the days of not needing to assist in the bodily waste process on a regular basis, saving those efforts for the times when they're sick and can't quite make it to the bathroom in time.

I'll add to this that I also won't miss when going to the bathroom outside of the home becomes a family parade affair. I was standing outside a public restroom in Ogunquit this summer while waiting for my husband to come out and struck up a conversation with a mom who was waiting for her son. She wasn't with him. He was just going to the bathroom. I put that one in the "things to look forward to" column, even if she was standing outside the door yelling in to make sure that he was OK. She wasn't trying to juggle several small kids in a small stall knowing all the while that a line was accumulating outside the door, listening to you repeat the words "don't - NO - do not touch that!" several times in an increasingly impatient voice with every repetition.

"Most Likely to Need a Boogie Wipe"

3. Snot: Another fantastic way to pay for my kids' post-high school training/education would be for a quarter to drop out of the sky every time I hear some variation of the phrase "Mom, I need a boogie wipe". Now look, I'm lucky in that both of my kids have always been great about actually blowing their nose and not just inhaling it back into their heads, and they're good about asking for a wipe as soon as it drips halfway between their nose and their mouth so it's not getting all over their face. But at peak cycle during a cold - especially if both of them have it - I hear those words at LEAST 25 times a day. Or more. I've never really counted. It's a lot. So I patiently wait for the days when they are tall enough to reach the tissues (and I trust them not to make a disastrous mess of tissues everywhere) and blow their own nose on their own time.


4. Everything Is Dangerous: My 4-year-old son is a fairly compliant child. If you tell him something is dangerous and he shouldn't do it, he tends - and always has - to retain that information and avoid the thing like the plague. As such, he's never gone through my purse and I'd never had an issue leaving it in reach. My 2-year-old daughter, on the other hand, is the kind of kid who needs to learn and investigate things for herself in order to be satisfied - she is the "let me check and see" type of kid. As such things get pretty... heart-attack-inducing sometimes. I now need to put my purse on a high shelf at home because I walked out of the bathroom the other day to find my 2-year-old daughter had gone into my bag (a punishable offense alone for many reasons) and went to the bottom of it, got out the EpiPen, removed it from its medical bag AND its plastic storage casing, and when I walked out of the bathroom had removed the safety cap and was trying to reinsert it where it belonged (and by the way - touching the EpiPen is also a punishable offense because of the seriousness of misuse). This same child several days later had managed to reach high up on the counter (again - touching things on the counter without permission is a punishable offense here because they can't see what they're reaching at yet and may get hurt), pull down a bottle of gummy vitamins, remove the "childproof" cap, and begin to eat them (she's fine).

There will be a time when my children will know not to touch a stove incorrectly, be able to discern medicine from food, respect our private spaces like purses and special keepsake boxes, not write on each other with markers, how to properly handle a knife, and just generally not be a menace to their own safety. That time is not now... but when it comes, it will be nice to not constantly feel like at some point today I'll be calling 911 or taking a trip to the walk-in or ER.

"Evie... you need to give her boobs."

5. Lack of Filter: I sometimes love the things that come out of my kids as a result of not having a filter yet... BUT. Last night while drawing, my 2-year-old daughter announced "Mom! I'm drawing you! I made you a vagina!" To this my 4-year-old son looked over and said "Mom, she did, she drew

you a circle vagina... Evie, you need to give her boobs." When we're at home I tend to have a little more grace with this; they're little, they're learning about their bodies, and the last thing I want is for them to be ashamed of their bodies or to think that their bodies are weird and horrible. But there's also a line for appropriateness that we try to teach them... vaginas and boobs are private parts, kids, and we don't just go parading them around, so please don't ever draw those on your school work because they're special private parts. Or when my kids watch out the window of a Burger King at someone parking their car near ours and then waits until the drivers come in to say as loud as they can "Hey Dad! Those guys did a very bad job parking... they're not even in the LINES!!" Look... guys... it's not that adults don't giggle like kids at the words "vagina" and "penis" or mutter under their breath "Geez... what a horrible parking job..."... it's just that we have filters now. And so we're not used to this lack of filter that you all have. So while the penis/vagina/butt talk and humor kind of makes me laugh a little bit, I am going to continue to pray daily that you don't start shouting it out in the middle of Target - which, by the way, thanks for (so far) not shouting those things out in the middle of Target.

Crap... there was that time you asked me rather loudly if Mickey Mouse was a boy and did he have a penis... never mind.

Look, I know that each phase as their things that you worry about or won't miss or don't want to deal with - I won't even get into the things I'm already worried about for the teenage years. And while these things are annoying, frustrating, and heart-attack-inducing - this is certainly an incredibly sweet phase that I am enjoying the heck out of and it may end up being my favorite once they're all grown up. The fascination, the snuggles, the sweet voices, the tiny hands, the crawling into bed with me at 5:00 AM and going back to sleep curled up with a little one in my "spoon"... it's an amazing stage of life and overall - I love it.

But let's be honest.

Diapers are seriously the worst.

When I Look Back, I Feel...

Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me.

I read these blog posts of parents of kids who hit preschool age and find their independence and they have these moments of wistfulness remembering sweet baby sweat smells and how small their babies were and how fast that time seemed to have gone by. Oh those wonderful days of nursing and snuggling and knowing that you were your baby's whole world, and now they're growing and when oh when did that happen... and I feel...

...nothing.

I remember my first year as a parent. I was depressed and didn't know it for 10 months. I was constantly worried about my son's size and not knowing what to do about that croupy cough he got at 9 months old. I overstressed about what food I fed my son and why wasn't I keeping the house clean and how do I get the social contact I just lost by coming home to look at a baby. A baby who, while incredibly cute and snuggly, doesn't speak English and communicates by blinking and pointing. A baby who wouldn't sleep unless I sang him "Boston", "Piano Man" and "Knee Deep" on rotation (no other songs worked... seriously).

All I wanted was to make it to toddlerhood. I even told God I was OK with only having one baby. One was enough.

Then... just as toddlerhood started to come into focus and I thought relief might be on the way... I got pregnant again.

Almost 2 years and 1 week old

My daughter was born a month before my son turned 2. She came into the world screaming, she made sure her presence was known. She had to sleep strapped into a baby seat for the first six months of her life so that she would actually sleep instead of gagging on reflux... which of course made me not sleep because I knew babies "aren't supposed" to sleep in anything other than on their backs flat in a sleep sack or swaddle. My son, my husband, and then my new baby all got colds. During the 2nd month of my daughter's life, we housed 2 teenagers and totalled a car. I got an 8-week ear infection. The last thing my new baby wanted to do during any of this time was snuggle or slow down - she wanted to move, so by the time I could come up to breathe I was contending with a 4-month-old who wanted to do nothing more than crawl. By the time she was 6-months, I was trying to make sure I didn't trip over a baby who would surprise me crawling underfoot while I was cooking dinner. She was climbing and giving me heart attacks at 8-months, and was using short sentences by a year.

If my daughter was ever one of these sweet babies you read about in blogs and books... she hid it well.

As my children hit their various milestones and as I look through old pictures and think back on the tiny people they were, I don't get wistful. I don't become bittersweet at how fast the last 4.25 years have gone by or regret not stopping and playing more cars or reading more stories instead of washing dishes. I would be lying if I said I wished I built more blanket forts or rocked my babies just a little bit longer or that I cherished that last nursing session with both of my kids. I longed for the days when an outing to a park or a museum didn't require a stroller and working around nap schedules or making sure I could breastfeed someone comfortably.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, there were several times that we thought we were going to lose her. I had a hematoma, I had cervical bleeding, I slid down the stairs on my behind leading me to modified bed rest for 2 weeks (which is exactly what the stay-at-home mom of a toddler wants to be doing). During one particular moment of panic, I remember looking at my husband and saying "I know I keep panicking and crying, but I just can't get rid of the feeling that we're not going to be able to keep her."

2.5 years and 8 months old

Sometime during the 6th month of my daughter's life as she crawled around my kitchen on her belly... it hit me - I'm not going to be able to keep my kids. God has given them to me for but a short period of their lives... then I need to let them go. Part of parenting, I've realized through prayer and consideration, is doing that slowly and starting at a young age. So when, at 8 months, my daughter decided to start climbing up the stairs - I didn't stop her. I let her go. When my son decided on a walk at 3 years old he didn't want to hold my hand and instead wanted to run up ahead and pick up sticks and pretend to be a pirate - I didn't stop him. I let him go. I let them run and do things for themselves while keeping a safe distance, watching and making sure they are safe.

God has gifted us with free will... He does the same for us. We run free while He keeps us at a far enough length to allow us independence, but is there for us when we fall. He suggests boundaries, He lets us grow, He lets us make mistakes and feel hurts so that we grow.

They are not mine to keep. They are growing. They want to do for themselves. They are their own people - they've shown me that since the day that they were born. And since that day I have prayed - "God, let me take these personalities that You have gifted them with and use me and use their Daddy to grow them into whatever person You want and have designed them to be. Let us be Your hands and feet in their lives and help them to discover Your plan for them."

And so as they grow and they discover themselves and they do for themselves and they reach out to help each other and others and figure out how to navigate the world... not once have I felt wistful at what has been. I felt a brief guilt over needing a c-section with my son and I felt a brief guilt over not being able to have one-on-one time with my daughter in her early days... but those feelings of guilt have passed and have been replaced with one overwhelming emotion.

Pride.

My kids are only 4 and 2 and they are far from perfect. They are human, and they are kids. They don't always listen, they act out, they are fresh, they don't always eat the dinner I put in front of them.

But my daughter at only 2 years old asks to help wipe down tables and asks how she can help you and my son since he was only 1.5 years old will be the first one at your side if you are sad or upset (even if the reason is that you're another kid in trouble and in time-out, he's concerned). I marvel at the hearts that they are growing to love others, I am amazed at the love they have for each other and the bond they are growing together. I beam with pride when they insist on doing something themselves and then perfect it.

My kids at 4 and 2 dress themselves, put on their own shoes (usually on the right feet), and generally obey safety rules. Strollers are no longer a requirement for most outings (we will be renting one at Disney primarily for storage and napping) and sometimes they can even help carry things.

3.5 and 1.5 years old

I was looking through old pictures last night, organizing on our server the hundreds of pictures we've taken over their daily lives. I came across a video of my daughter at about 14 months, toddling around the driveway while her brother looked on, digging away in the garden. "Evie," I heard my husband's voice say, "don't climb up the stairs." The video moved away from the moving toddler as he redirected her several times before she finally just gave up and walked away, but not before casting a defiant look that said "Fine... but those stairs are mine later."

This is when I had the thought... is there something wrong with me? Am I broken because I am not feeling any of the wistful feelings or bittersweet thoughts that I read about in blogs? Why don't I feel any of those "Wow... time sure does fly..." feelings that I keep hearing about?

Instead I felt wonder, amazement, and pride at how much my daughter has grown in the last year. My heart grew three sizes as I watched my son's face in the video and thought about how much he loves his little sister and watches out for her.

Last night as I sat and mulled over these things I realized... there isn't anything wrong with me.

Every child is different. Every parent is different. Every person is different. 

Maybe I am too close to the baby stage to "miss" it and in several years I'll see this differently. Maybe I won't. Somehow, I just don't know that I'm wired to look back and long for the days of babyhood. I'm incredibly excited to see my kids grow into their own people and see what God has designed them to be. When I see old pictures and videos, I am amazed at how far they've come and find it hard to believe they were ever so little... because now, they're just NOT.

And that's OK.

It's OK that I don't long for (or don't think I'll long for) those days of babyhood and it's OK that you do. It's OK that I am not that worried about holding on a little longer and it's OK that you are. It's OK that I want to make sure the dishes get done and it's OK that you're leaving them there.

It's OK.

This morning my 4-year-old son threw on some slip-on shoes and walked out to the end of the driveway to pick-up the newspaper, a job that he asked if he could do. No, Mom, don't come with me - I can do it myself.

If they paid children to say those words - "I can do it myself" - few would pay for college.

I watched from a safe distance as he went to the end of the driveway (they threw the paper about 5 feet in from the "end"), turned around, and came back.

My heart swelled with pride as I watched my little boy's face reflect a confidence boost because I trusted him and gave him room to do something himself.

I'll keep on praying that they will open their heart to God's plan for their lives. I'll continue to keep my distance away and my arms outstretched. I'll continue to watch in wonder as they grow and become their own person. I'll wait for them to need me and I'll try to be patient as they pull back and come back in their own times.

And I won't wonder if there's something wrong with me anymore.

I'm doing OK.

And so are you.

4 years and 2 years (and a couple of months) old

Ricky Gervais, Bullying, and Why It Matters

A week or two ago, Ricky Gervais appeared on "The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon" and during his appearance complained about a recent experience he had on a first class flight. Once settled in his seat, the flight attendant advised him that while he would be getting his complimentary champagne - they would not be handing out the complimentary nuts because someone on the plane had a severe nut allergy. As the story went on, I chuckled a bit at the jokes because quite frankly if I can't see the humor in life then I might as well just give up.

But then... then the jokes took a bit of a dark turn, and not just because I'm the parent of a child with food allergies. Towards the end of the clip, he talks about how before he flies he will take a shower and then "rub himself in nuts" so that when the passenger says "oooooh I'm dying", no one will know it's him.

This is the joke that made me cringe. The rest of it, if I'm honest, didn't really bother me because I get it from the other side of things and yes - I even laughed a little (especially at the following "really special service" joke). We live in a world where gluten-free diets have become trendy and where people are faking - yes FAKING - food allergies in restaurants just so that they don't have to have the food on their plates. Only about 4% of the adult population and 8% of children live with medically diagnosed food allergies, yet I read somewhere that something like 30-40% either "believe" they have them with no clinical diagnosis.

So I get it. And so I get the humor in Gervais' basic line of humor in this instance because even I as a food allergy parent think that the trendiness of gluten-free and saying you have an allergy is out of control. People who are just following a trend are giving those whose throats close up or break out head-to-toe in hives or start uncontrollably vomiting a terribly bad rap.

But that one joke - the joke about rubbing nuts all over himself before getting on the plane - that one bothered me. And the reason why had nothing to do with food allergies.

I'm a parent. I have kids. I was a kid once. That wasn't a nut joke to me. That was a bullying joke.

Let's say that it was indeed a nut-bullying joke - which I guess it specifically was - but let's start there. When I was at the FARE conference in May, a statistic I heard that I will never get out of my head is that one-third of kids who have food allergies REPORT being bullied for it in school. 

That's just those who report it.

Let's go bigger than that. According to DoSomething.org, 17% of students report being bullied 2-3 times per month or more. 3.2 million students report being bullied each year.

Again - that's just those who report it.

Someone who ACTUALLY has a life-threatening food allergy didn't choose to not eat whatever thing or things make their body revolt against them when they ingest it. No one with a real food allergy is intentionally trying to inconvenience the people they come in contact with - they just don't want to land in an ambulance or oh, I don't know - die.

But kids - all people really - can be mean.

I had a girl in the 6th grade who wanted to start a fight with me (it got escalated to the assistant principal) because I bought my earrings at the flea market - seconds after complimenting me on how cute she thought they were. In the 7th grade I got sprayed with Raid because my last name sounded vaguely like "Cockroach".

Think of the innumerate reasons that the "mean kids" come up with to pick on others. They don't wear the trendiest clothes or they might speak differently or they smell strange or they eat different food. They have glasses, they walk funny, they struggle athletically, their skin is a different color, they "like" people of the same sex, they wear two different socks, their parents live in a trailer, they have a lot of pimples... the list can go on and on and on. I could sit here for hours and still not complete a list of the reasons people tear each other down.

We all have our platforms from which we can speak out against injustices in society. I'm a parent, I'm a blog writer, I volunteer in our Sunday School. I can teach my kids to love and care and be empathetic towards others and find the best in them to build them up rather than tear them down. I can write here about injustices in the world and ask those few who read this to act in love and not be mean-spirited. I can teach those little preschoolers in our Sunday School about the love of God and how we are called to act as Jesus does.

Celebrities, however, have a more far-reaching platform than I do. Than the majority of us do, really. And when they talk, when they act - people listen. When Ricky Gervais makes a joke about rubbing himself in nuts, it makes a whole group of people who are frustrated with the inconveniences those with food allergies impose on others cheer up and say "YEAH!". What's to say a kid doesn't watch that, think it's funny, then go to school rubbed in peanut butter and sit next to the kid with a peanut allergy?

The good news is that there are a LOT of celebrities out there who are actively speaking out against bullying. Demi Lovato and Ellen Degeneres are probably two of the more well-know anti-bullying activists, but there are many more including our current President.

When we see someone - either a celebrity or someone in our peer group or our workplace or our schools or anywhere - who bullies another person, who picks on them for their differences... we need to speak up. We need to be proactive and show that there is more love in the world than there is hate. It is so much easier to see the negative than it is the positive - but if we can get more and more people to be a light in the world... then maybe the bullies won't get the spotlight anymore.

We have it hard enough in this world without looking for reasons to make others feel smaller, We will and can do better when we lift each other up - no matter what our differences are.

So, Ricky Gervais... well... I went ahead and left a note on his Facebook page (and got several likes/loves - no "angry" or "wow" or "sad" faces, which was encouraging). I was one of many parents and people with food allergies who spoke out against his comments. Anyone who follows his twitter feed knows that he responded to this feedback as one would think he would ("I make jokes about the Holocaust, cancer, and AIDS. Someone just told me not to make jokes about food allergies" or something to that effect. "Warning: This joke may contain nuts" and several jokes about how no one should make jokes anymore because everyone takes things too personally).

I didn't care. I'm not going to change Ricky Gervais and I don't want to. But if just one person was touched by hearing that one-third of kids with food allergies are bullied and tried to learn more about it - that's great. If a parent watched that clip with their teenage kid and it started a conversation about bullying and how we should help each other and not harm each other - awesome.

Use your platform to spread love. We all have one. What's yours?

Gotta Get Away?

I’m currently at 34,000 feet somewhere over the East Coast on my way to Orlando for the FARE Food Allergy Conference. It’s my first trip since we had the kids and I feel like it lends some credibility to the title that Steve put on the business cards he made me – “Professional Mom”.

This is a trip that I’ve been looking forward to for two months since I booked it. I did the math – we could afford it – and the timing was perfect – during Steve’s break from his graduate school classes. From the moment I clicked the button on the airfare, paid the registration fee, and booked the hotel room I’ve known it was the right thing to do. The sessions look like they have huge potential to be helpful, there’s going to be opportunity to network with other parents of kids with allergies, and with Will going into public school next year for preschool this seemed like the perfect time for me to attend.

But let’s be honest. I’m a stay-at-home mom of a 4-year-old and a 2-year-old. My husband is a full-time employee and basically a full-time student. We’ve got a busy schedule and a busy life and we do our best to balance all of it, but it’s chaos. It’s loving, beautiful chaos – but it’s still chaos.

I’ve mostly been looking forward to a weekend of solitude.

Sure, there will be lots of other people there – it’s a conference. There’s even a teen track and some people bring their families with them, so it’s not like I’ll be escaping children. But when someone utters the words “Mom, I need a boogie wipe,” those words will NOT be directed at me. I will not need to change a single diaper or remind someone to point their penis down while they’re peeing (my 4-year-old, not my husband). I won’t need to decide between the endless cycle of laundry or the pile of dirty dishes or the giant smiles asking me for a story.

When I have told other moms about this conference - this two-and-a-half day stretch of flying solo - there have been looks of wonder that appear on their faces. Gasps of awe and eyes wide with wonder at the very idea of getting away without their children have been witnessed. Jokes of playing hooky on the sessions and bringing a stack of books poolside have been cracked. Dreams and hopes that maybe one day they too can get away for an entire weekend have been born.

I picture myself standing on the steps of a local indoor playground giving my own “I Have a Dream” speech to a crowd of mothers of all kinds – free-range moms, attachment parenting moms, stay-at-home-moms, working moms, breastfeeding and bottle feeding moms. Moms of singles, moms of multiples, moms of sets of multiples, moms with super-involved spouses and moms with spouses who take a more hands-off approach and single moms who do it all themselves. Moms from all walks of life and manner of parenting who dream of flying high above the clouds sipping on Dr. Pepper and munching on Cheese-Nips without a child bucking a much-needed nap because they ARE FLYING ON AN AIRPLANE MOMMY AND OH MY GOODNESS THAT IS THE WING AND CLOUDS AND HELLO PERSON SITTING OVER THERE!!! LET ME WAVE TO YOU THREE ROWS BACK WHILE I STEP ON DADDY’S HEAD AND PUNCH MOMMY IN THE FACE!!!

Anyways.

I’ve been looking forward to the solitude.

Then today happened.

Yeah... learning... yeah... that's what I'm doing...

I had somehow managed to find a non-stop flight to the conference that didn’t take off until mid-afternoon, which meant that I could still get the kids to their preschool co-op and Steve could get a much-needed morning off. We went about the morning as we normally would, hopped in the car a few minutes early and headed home so that I could scarf down a sunbutter and jelly sandwich before heading to the airport.

As I sat there with my hands on the steering wheel, listening to the Billy Ray Cyrus version of “Real Gone” from the “Cars” movie, and driving along the same road we drive on every Friday… I got this knot in my chest. This longing, this feeling that someone was missing. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw my kids. I saw Will’s goofy smile grinning at me in the mirror and I saw Evie fighting sleep and looking out the window because she knew that lunch and a nap were on the horizon.

I missed my kids and I hadn’t even left yet.

Curse that heckler in the back for holding up a poster of my kids running through bubbles in the middle of my speech.

Look – my kids are a pain just like everyone else’s. My daughter can throw a mean temper tantrum and my son has discovered that occasionally being a punk is an option. The life of a parent is exhausting, it’s draining, it’s non-stop. Whether we work in an office full-time or stay-at-home full time: you’re ALWAYS a parent first. When the alarm sounds, all things drop and you go to the child. I can’t tell you the number of times that Steve has left work to help me with the kids at the doctor’s office (and once so that *I* could go find out if I needed stitches because I cut myself cooking dinner). You’re ALWAYS on, you’re ALWAYS hyper-aware – you’re ALWAYS tired. And so the prospect of getting away from that for a full 24-hours – or more – is QUITE attractive. Because rest.

Then you think of the hugs you won’t get at random moments, the laughter you won’t hear as they run through the kitchen pretending to be race cars, the smiles you won’t see, the tears you won’t taste as they lay on your face crying over who-knows-what, and the after-nap sweaty-head you won’t smell as they snuggle trying to fully wake up. And your heart aches.

Because while getting away is so important and sometimes necessary, those aren’t the things that make what being a parent is all about. It’s those runny-nosed, silly-smiled, wide-eyed, curious, wondrous, cuddly, ridiculous tiny humans whose lives you’ve been entrusted with. That’s what parenting is all about.

So while I fully plan on enjoying every moment of this conference and full weekend of grown-up time, I’m going to make sure I can see those goofballs on FaceTime every chance I get. Without them, I wouldn’t be on this plane right now heading to a conference to better my skills as a mom of a kid with food allergies. Sunday night I’ll get home, peek in at those sweet sleeping faces, readjust their blankets and favorite animals, and gently kiss their foreheads.

Then Monday morning when the peace ends and the chaos starts again to the battle cry of “MOMMY, I NEED A BOOGIE WIPE!” – I’ll be there with my Puffs Plus Lotion weaponry in hand, ready to jump right back in again.

Because that’s the kind of soldier God created me to be in the first place.

(Un)realistic Expectations

I remember my first mother's day 4 years ago. Will was only a week old and was such a snuggly little baby. He rarely fussed and was content just to be held. Steve was a nervous first time dad and I was still recovering from my c-section - only had been home for a couple of days - so he was all about making sure I was comfortable and borderline waiting on me hand and foot. I'm fairly certain someone brought us a meal that day.

It was blissful. It was wonderful. It was right out of a Hallmark commercial. Smiles, cooing baby, bliss.

My second I don't really recall, which makes me think it was similar to most other Sundays. But my third... oh good grief my third...

The kiddos - taken May 2014, right around Mother's Day

It was my first Mothers' Day with 2 kids. Steve had asked a couple of weeks in advance what I wanted to do and I replied that I wanted to get some Top Donut - donuts and iced coffee - and take a walk by the river. I was a month off of my c-section with Evie and I wanted to move around and enjoy the outside. I didn't want to cook, I didn't want to stress - Evie had been born in the midst of a housefull of sickness and I was glad to be out of that hump.

Well... as luck would have it, Evie was entering her 6-week growth spurt, eating like crazy and as a spitty baby does - was spitting up like crazy too. We were just figuring out that Will has seasonal allergies - his Zyrtec hadn't kicked in enough to protect him, he was prone to throw up with too much post-nasal drip, and so was sneezing and vomiting everywhere. Steve was just coming off of a pretty bad cold and while he was also anxious to be outside - he was cranky from being sick for a week.

But I had my expectations of a wonderful family walk with iced coffee and donuts and a breakfast picnic on Mothers' Day. I had set this beautiful picture in my head and was determined to follow through with it. We would do it. It would be amazing. We would overcome risks and have a beautiful morning together.

The actual picture? It was... less than beautiful.

I will never forget that at the end of that day I was sitting there almost in tears. I was covered in puke and snot and poop and didn't want to think about what I wanted for dinner. Steve and I were both frustrated with how the day was turning out, concerned about a relapse into post-partum depression like I had experienced with Will, and we were disappointed with the day overall. 

All I wanted was Mothers' Day to be over. I declared it a sham, a falsehood, a day like any other day - only possibly more stressful because of unrealistic expectations that I (and the rest of the world) had constructed at the outset.

Have any of you ever had this experience of unrealistic expectations that get completely shattered? I feel like these expectations that we construct for ourselves (whether it's Mothers' Day or something else) have huge potential to add to our emotional clutter and baggage - especially during busy times of year like the spring with banquets and graduations and events and parties. They can add additional work we can't handle in our lives, they can give us a false picture of reality, and they can make us feel that if things don't go as planned they are an utter failure and the pressure of that need for success adds unnecessary stress.

Life has been crazy in our home over the last several months, and so I didn't set up expectations this year. The only thing I really wanted were donuts for breakfast, to not have to worry about dinner or subsequent clean-up, and to get 30-60 minutes to myself (if at all possible) in a Starbucks with a book and a cup of coffee. Not only did I get all of those things (even if dinner was out at a restaurant with 2 overtired toddlers - one with minimal nap, the other on the back end of a chest cold - and my in-laws), but I even got to spend 30 minutes talking to my own mother while folding 3 loads of laundry (less to start off the week with!) and space to myself to work on a crochet project until Steve came up to bed at 10.

Was it a perfect day? No. But I didn't set up any expectations. I had desires, but didn't make them needs.

So when our good friends texted me last night and said "D, how was your Mothers' Day?" - my answer was "Well... no one vomited on me. So it was pretty good."

God has given me these gifts of motherhood and marriage - and that means the good and the bad, through sickness and health, beautiful and ugly, laughter and tantrums. Motherhood is a mess and fatherhood is a mess and the jobs are nonstop, constantly demanding, and the kids don't stop being kids for a day just because of what the calendar has decided the day will be. As such - celebrating motherhood and fatherhood is inevitably going to be messy too. To expect anything different from that is just setting ourselves up for disappointment - instead, we should expect the normal chaos, the normal skinned knees, the normal sniffles, and maybe even a quarrel or two. After all, those are the things that we're celebrating anyways. 

No one vomited on me. That's a successful day of motherhood in my book. 

In Which I Piss Off Some of the Feminists Who Follow Me...

When I was in college, I worked with the orientation program for new students. There was this video that we showed the kids from a guy named Mike Green (aka "Greeny") about making responsible choices - specifically about alcohol and parties, but the wisdom could be applied to many of the situations that we are presented with in college life. What stood out to me was a line that he repeated throughout the video:

"Be your brother's keeper, be your sister's keeper."

In college, and really in the whole world, we are a part of a larger community. We need to watch out for each other and make sure we are taking care of each other in as many aspects of life that we can.

So now we cross into the territory where I get absolutely infuriated when I see memes or posts or whatever posted on social media that basically say that we women should be able to dress as provocatively as we want. That when a young lady goes to school dressed in clothes that are too revealing that it is detracting from her education to send her home or send her to the office for a change of clothes that are less revealing. That our first amendment rights of expression are being violated because men can't just control themselves and not rape us. Or some other variation on this general idea that we should be able to wear whatever we want, whenever we want and everyone else in the world - namely men - should just kind of deal with that.

Before I get into this - let me be abundantly clear about a couple of things:

1. I do feel that no matter what a woman decides to wear be it a full-on burqa or a g-string bikini - no one has a right to violate her body, or cat call, or otherwise treat that woman in any way disrespectfully. Rape is despicable in all instances - no means no, and wearing an outfit (or not wearing an outfit) is not an open invitation for anyone to force themselves upon another person.

...ok really that's it. Rape is horrible and I don't think that dressing provocatively is an open invitation to be raped. There is never an excuse to that deeply abuse a fellow human being. Ever. For any reason. At all.

I just want to make sure that's clear before I begin my rant.

And friends, I AM going to rant. Buckle up.

I can remember as a teenager wanting to dress in a certain way because I wanted my boyfriend to be attracted to me. I didn't understand what all that entailed, but I knew that I had a certain amount of appeal to him and I wanted to... exploit it may not be the right word, but I'll use it for now.

There were a handful of times that I would leave for school in the morning and be turned right around back to my room. But... My mom had a fingertip-and-bra rule: If she could see my bra, a shirt needed to be layered underneath or the one I had on changed altogether and if the skirt/shorts I was wearing did not extend past the tip of my middle fingertip when my hands were at my sides then I had to change that too.

Why?

Because having your boobs hanging out isn't exactly appropriate for school, nor is having your behind hanging out when you bend over for your pen. Also because my mom cared/cares very much about me and didn't want me sending out an unintentional message. She explained this to me, and I understood. I didn't go off on a free-speech rant, and she let me choose what the substitute or replacement was - but those were the boundaries. Because she cared. And wanted to protect me. And I understood her boundaries existed because she loves me.

At no point did I think that she might be violating my first amendment rights or insinuating that I was a slut. She was just being her daughter's keeper and watching my back.

Let me extend this a bit further. Dress codes exist in high schools, I think, for a number of reasons. The BIGGEST one that I can think of is that when students get into the real world they are expected to dress in a certain professional manner. They cannot wear "F**K YOU" t-shirts or "GARAGE BAND WORLD TOUR 2013" t-shirts to work, nor can they wear jeans ripped to shreds, or have their underpants hanging out, or wear incredibly provocative clothing. If the purpose of school is to prepare you for the real world - then that should include clothing. A lot of jobs that these kids are going to work force you to wear a uniform, or adhere to a certain dress code or an expectation of a certain level of business attire exists in the culture. The odds of a student landing a job where excessive amounts of cleavage OR the donning of a "F**K YOU" hat are acceptable are pretty darned slim. As such - dress codes prepare students for the real world where real rules apply for real reasons.

The memes that are out there defending the rights of women to dress provocatively miss this point. Instead they say it's distracting from a girl's education or violating her first amendment rights. Well... to me this smacks of "Yes, but just because you CAN run into a crowded movie theater and shout 'FIRE' doesn't mean you SHOULD". Is it responsible to dress in a way that sends a message you're not looking to send, potentially putting ourselves and our fellow human beings - in this case, likely men - at a risk of being in a situation where intentions are misconstrued and a relationship or a person's emotional well-being can be destroyed?

But Danielle - you're bordering on "slut shaming"! But Danielle - it's not our responsibility to make sure that other people behave appropriately!

Is that really true though?

Let's go with the commonly accepted notion that men are more visually stimulated sexually than women. Whether this is truly engrained in them biologically or created from a society where physical appearance is elevated above internal beauty does not matter, studies have supported this in one capacity or another and so we'll start from here. If that is indeed the case, then if Suzy Student walks into class one day wearing loose-fitting jeans, a standard t-shirt, and a pair of Converse - would you not say that it is less likely that Peter Pupil notices Suzy than if she were to walk in wearing a low-cut midriff shirt with a mini-skirt and a pair of boots that carry the nickname "f**k-me boots"?

Now, if Peter is a stand-up human being (which most men are believe it or not) even if he IS distracted by Suzy it won't affect his studies and he can go on with his day. Suzy feels empowered or beautiful or whatever with what she's wearing and no harm is done.

But Danielle - what if Suzy really DOES want people to look at her physical beauty?!?! What ever happened to "if you've got it, flaunt it"? WHY ARE YOU STOMPING ON HER RIGHT OF FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION????

Welll... because. The reality is that no matter what her intentions, Suzy is going to turn heads with the latter outfit. She's probably going to get attention both positive AND negative from both boys AND girls at the school. It's possible that while walking around with her backpack on that her skirt creeps up the back of her bag and her behind will be flashing everyone. It's possible that some of her male friends will notice that her low-cut shirt creates the perfect "basketball hoop" for potato chips during lunch (both of those things happened to me).

It's possible she'll get cat-called. It's possible she'll be sexually assaulted or sexually harassed or raped.

Dress codes exist to teach kids that there are boundaries for what is acceptable to wear in the real world. A lot of this is professional - but a lot of it is personal. And in this instance, the school is protecting not just Peter from "being distracted" - it's protecting Suzy too.

Because Suzy doesn't understand as a teenager whose brain is not fully developed yet that she is indeed taking a risk by dressing that way - and the school needs to be its sister's keeper in this instance.

I stopped choosing revealing clothes after a time. Sure, I got tired of having Fritos chucked at my chest, but mostly I realized that I wasn't doing myself any favors. I watched as girls who dressed certain ways were thought to have certain behaviors and I didn't want to send a message to anyone that I was someone I wasn't. I began to dress more to represent who I actually was and not who the pages of Seventeen stated I could be.

I have a daughter now - and so a lot of this really hits home and is part of what infuriates me about these memes and posts. I know - some of you are reading this thinking "Well what do you want to teach her? That she needs to dress in a certain way so that men don't go fawning all over her?"

Good question. What do I want to teach her? Three things:

My daughter. She's awesome.

1. How you dress should be an expression of who you ACTUALLY are - not what whatever the magazine or social media of the time when she's in high school says she should be or look like. The people who will love her the most in her life and cherish her for who she is are the ones who will find her attractive in sneakers, a sweater, and khakis. Right now her preferred outfits are dress-like shirts, leggings or jeans, and a pair of sneakers because she loves to run. She's active. She needs to dress to express who she actually is - not what she thinks will appeal her to someone.

2. I'll finally close on my Greeny point that I've skirted on several times. For better or worse, our male counterparts are sexually visually stimulated. I want my daughter to understand how the male mind works and how she can be her brothers' keeper. How she can help men out there to see women as more than just sexual objects and see each one of us for our true depth of beauty. I want her to help the men in her life to disspell this reputation they've gotten as pigs who "only want one thing". I want her to blow up social media with how strong and awesome people are. We're not going to destroy rape culture by elevating the rights of women to dress however they want - we're going to destroy it by empowering real men to speak up and make it harder and more uncomfortable to sexually harass women. I want her to be a part of that.

3. We're a Christian home, and we believe in God and we believe in Jesus. In Stasi Eldridge's book "Captivating", she spends page after page after page describing how we are so beautiful just as we are created by God. Each one of us is unique and beautiful and amazing regardless of how we look or dress. God has designed each of us and Jeremiah 29:11 tells us that God has great plans for us of hope and a future and not of disaster. Psalm 139:13 describes how we were beautifully knit together in our mothers' wombs. We have lost our ability to place our intrinsic value in how God sees us - and I hope and I pray and I desire for her to base her worth in that.

In a world where we scream for equality and for the rights of the individual, we have lost the need for true community and we have forgotten how to be our brothers' keeper and our sisters' keeper. We will not beat rape culture or rape mindset by downplaying our very real role as women. Feminism might seem to some to be about our rights to do whatever we want and not be abused by men - but really it's about being strong, being independent-minded, and being able to be counter-culture and changing the culture. It's about rising above societal norms and not perpetuating the same ones and just changing the soundtrack of reasons.

So, social media - enough with the pseudo-feminist memes about free speech and distractions from education. Enough with the "You Go Girl!" rants and double-standards when we then post pictures of ourselves and expect men not to virtually cat-call us when we do. Enough slut-shaming and enough of not loving ourselves and respecting ourselves and others.

Let's ACTUALLY empower our daughters, our cousins, our BFFs, our sisters to actually do something about it on a personal level. Let's become activists.

Let's DO something. 

Too Much?

When I was a kid, I used to love building towers out of crayons. I would build a foundation and then assemble as many crayons as I could in a sort of log-cabin-esque structure in an upward fashion. They were cool, I practiced my fine motor and balancing skills, and it entertained my siblings. 

If you've ever built one of these structures then you know that they aren't the most stable in the world. They are fun to build, pretty to look at, but eventually the shaky foundation gives out. If the foundation doesn't roll away then one of the crayons from the upper levels scooches out of place. When either of these things happen - everything comes tumbling down.

Another illustration.

Think, if you will, of a beautiful piece of China and a bountiful Thanksgiving buffet. As you go through the buffet everything looks so delicious that you just have to try it. You take so much onto your plate that you're cramming it onto the edges and the roll has to go on top of the stuffing... wait... no... then you can't pour gravy over the top. So the roll goes to the side of the plate, half off the edge. Now the beautiful China is completely covered - you may have well just used a paper plate. You have overwhelmed your plate with food... and likely, if you clean it off, are left with a stomach ache. 

These two illustrations, I think, are a good summation of what happens when we take too much on our plates. When we add too many things onto the structure of our lives. 

We become overwhelmed with all the things in the balance and our sanity comes tumbling down. We get so full that we end up emotionally or spiritually sick and unable to move. 

When we talk about the clutter in our lives and we talk about how it's so much more than stuff - it is so true. It's amazing how the emotional and spiritual clutter that we often stack onto ourselves can cause instability in so many areas. 

The reasons we have for not offloading the items on our plate are many. "But they're counting on me", "If I don't do it, no one else will", "No, it needs to be done this way and only I know how to do it". These reasons are incredibly selfish and prideful sounding, aren't they? Are we really that important to the fabric of society that the walls will crumble if we cease to exist from an area of it?

When we made the decision that I would come home from work to take care of the kids full-time, I felt so many of these things about my job. Because of the way I "ended" my time in the office (my blood pressure had become unstable in the last weeks of pregnancy and I was forced to work from home with several rest-breaks throughout the course of the day), I was unable to tie loose ends, finish projects I was working on, and had several files of backlogged to-do items that I had guilt were incompleted. I had to make a choice to add on to the adjusting of being a stay-at-home-mom to attempt to clean everything up or I had to let it go and trust that those who would come after me would do the best job they knew how for the customer and the company. 

Guess what? The work got absorbed, the customers were taken care of, and no one complained to me it wasn't perfect before I left. I've maintained the relationships with some of the people I worked with and no harm was done by letting it go. This applies to so many areas of our lives. Yes, we are called to serve, to love one another, and to make sure we take care of each other - I am not arguing that. Are there things that maybe only we know how to do - sure there are, but shouldn't we train someone else to do those things? Will the gears of society stop turning and the Earth stop rotating on its axis when we leave this life and meet Jesus in Heaven?  

The things that we've taken on our hearts, our schedules, our to-do lists? If we let go of the unnecessary ones or the ones we need to release to pay more attention to the things God has called us to RIGHT NOW - someone else will pick them up. If they're not necessary, then it won't matter anyways. If we let go of the wrong things and need to readjust - God will make that obvious to you. 

Evaluate your plates and decide if you've got too much on them. Throw away the roll and skip the... no, don't skip the gravy - but maybe don't take so much stuffing. Don't build your crayon towers or houses of cards too high. Use steady hands to build your structures and make sure you leave ample room for dessert. You can't do that with shoddy materials or too much of the dinner buffet taking up space in your stomach.

It's OK to let it go.