Friday Five: Camera Roll

Does anyone else feel like this week has lasted approximately 3.5 years? Time is strange. Fall is a beautiful time of year, but it’s still a transitional season—everything just steadily moves forward. I think that’s why it’s the perfect time of year for a holiday like Thanksgiving: you have to be intentional about pausing, reflecting, and practicing gratitude.

I’ve decided we’re not going to talk about the 10 month absence between posts. Here’s five photos I picked from my recent camera roll, and five things I’m thankful for:

1. “You got an apple! Why are you eating the apple? Are you hungry? How are you hungry? It’s orange and an apple!” -just a whole mob of three year olds

My job is hard…it is physically and emotionally draining…but small humans are honestly the best version of human. I love that they have no shame about being themselves, not knowing things, telling you exactly what they think. Being allowed into their funny and sweet little worlds is a gift. I’m thankful for my work.

2. We were on the way home from school/work when I noticed the sun setting, but didn’t say anything. Like most people I’m sure, I need a quiet ride home to let go of the afternoon. But Abbott stopped mid sentence and said, “Whoa! Look at the sunset! It’s so pretty with the clouds! You should take a picture, Mommy. I really like it.” By the time we got to a red light, it was obscured by the buildings and reduced to this:

But that’s beside the point. I love that he noticed it, and I love that he thought it was worth remembering. Most of all, I love that he got that from me. All the times in the past 5 years I’ve pointed out things I thought were beautiful; now he does it, too. There’s a deeper truth in there about always seeking the beauty in things and the importance of sharing it. Really…it’s a gift to see the best parts of yourself in another person you’re helping to shape. I’m thankful for the blessing to be a parent.

3. Last year we finally looked into PPCD in our school district because I was at the end of my rope. I read all the books and articles and tried every technique to get Abbott just to a pre-writing/reading, pre-K ready level. It wasn’t working. The older he got, the more his disabilities became obvious. I fought the feelings of failure hard, but just a few weeks into the program we knew we’d made the right choice. It’s sobering to sit around a table while 7 professionals present you with literal charts on how far behind your child is. On the flip side, to see their plans working and their genuine excitement when goals are met is incredible. Abbott started Kindergarten in a regular class with normal kids. He still receives therapy and support, but his teacher makes no special concessions for him.

He was very proud to show me this drawing of himself at school, walking to the office to help with announcements. After years of only seeing scribbles, a person you can actually tell is a person made me so happy. I will forever be in debt to all the people who work hard to teach him the extra steps he has to learn to be able to do everyday “normal” things. I’m thankful for our school district, their standard of excellence, and for public school in general. The resources they provide for children like Abbott are invaluable and important—and accessible to everyone.

4. I said I was done being “that mom”, but this is me up late making a Chicka Chicka Boom Boom costume for the school storybook parade. You might notice my husband’s phone with the Fubu app open, trying to get World Series game 7 to play.

The livestream eventually loaded. The Astros eventually…bombed. Just. so. badly. It was the most beautifullay pitched 7 innings I’ve ever watched and yet, a big L. I’m still a fan, but this one hurt. I’m thankful for the Astros even when they (technical term) totally biff it. 🤷🏼‍♀️

5. In the 6 years we lived in our first place, we never invited friends over for dinner. Family, yes (though not as often as I wanted), but never friends. I had one friend who came over for crafts and the kids’ play dates sometimes; and another friend who had “drop by anytime but I’m not getting out of my pajamas” privileges, but that was it. I was never proud of our old duplex and my lack of ability to make the best of it. I know that’s not the right attitude, but it’s the truth.

This pic is from last month, the first time we invited other friends over to our new house. The play date & pajama privilege friends have already been a few times, but these were the real deal: my Sunday school 6th graders and a family who were still just acquaintances. In a shocking turn of events (as in, I was shocked) I felt zero panic or stress leading up to the dinner. I didn’t clean anything more than normal, I left cooking dishes and clutter out I’d normally be embarrassed by, and I completely forgot to scrub the toilets.

Obviously, it turns out you don’t have to kill yourself making things perfect for people to feel welcome. Everyone had the best time eating piles of baked potatoes and personalizing tote bags. We got to tell the story of how we got together to people who haven’t heard it, which is rare. And believe it or not, no one commented on the lack of flooring in the hallway. Before they left, after I refused to let her keep cleaning up, the mom gave me the highest compliment I could ever wish for my housekeeping: “This is the most comfortable I’ve felt in someone’s home in awhile.” I don’t think she would’ve felt that way if I’d stayed up all night scrubbing things. I am so thankful for good friends and a table to welcome them around. That is holy ground.

Mackenzie’s Senior PHotos

Honored to keep photographing my best friend’s family!

Friday Five: The New Year

Remember the golden age in blogging, when everyone had a Blogspot or Xanga? When you joined a blogring and had an instant, engaged audience?  When posts were like daily journal entries instead of carefully curated articles (frequently sponsored) and made-for-Pinterest graphics?

I do. And I miss it! Not that there’s anything wrong with today’s blogging trends—but I’d post so much more often if I released myself from the pressure to only share essays.  

So I’m starting a new thing: Friday Five. I’ll share 5 little thoughts or maybe a comedic-memoir-style list or something else that comes in 5’s each week. I think keeping a loose format will be the key to actually posting consistently. 

1. I just spent 8 minutes on the internet trying to find a similar phrase to “without further ado” because it feels overused. But I also didn’t want to just start the list without a transition. Google had nothing! So without further ado, we are now in the Five portion of this post.

2. I failed spectacularly at my “December Daily” project. 20 stories by the end of the month? All with unique imagery and coordinating titles? It was just too lofty a goal. I’m still happy with the fact that I tried to make writing more of a habit; I’m happy that I got a lot of stories started (to share eventually ) and I’m exceptionally happy with The Gift. So maybe it wasn’t a specTACular failure. If I post something Christmas-themed at a random point this year, you’ll know where it came from.

3. I finally  see a light at the end of the tunnel with this illness. I’ve never had the flu before and good grief, it is as bad if not worse than everyone says. I’m so glad Abbott got over his in time to go back to school, because I need a few extra bed rest/ER binge watch days. I’ve never seen the point of getting a flu shot before but these last few weeks may have changed my mind! 

this is your brain on influenza. photo by Fabio Jock

4. New Year’s Resolutions are great. They really are. Sometimes starting fresh/with a blank slate/setting intentions is absolutely good and necessary. But where I am right now, my “resolution” is just to keep doing what I’m doing. I am by no means saying I’m perfect or exactly where I want to be! But I am so good at starting things; So good at doing a re-brand, setting a theme, using all the drama and fanfare to make changes. I am terrible at following through to completion. Last year I set goals to be better at two things: showing up, and finishing. I think I have succeeded in adding those things to who I am; but it will always be a work in progress—they don’t come naturally to me. So this year, I want to continue . No big fresh starts, just small, quiet ones. For me—that’s the key to success.

I love seeing people’s one little word projects, or hearing other ways they intentionally incorporate a topic or trait into their lives. I’ve never done the actual OLW project, just casually picked one that seemed right and thought about it from time to time ( last year: “Revive”, this year: “Dwell”) . Do you choose a word or participate? I’d love to hear in the comments!

5. Do your kids watch The Lion Guard? We don’t have cable/WiFi/local tv at home, so every week we pick a few dvds from the library. I chose this show for him while Abbott was at school, and it turns out he loves it! But he had me hide his eyes at a *very* mild peril scene with the hyenas. I think that means that he is DEFINITELY not ready for the actual Lion King Movie! insert cry laugh emoji  

Well, we did it! We made it to the end! To say thanks for reading, I’d like to buy you a coffee. Local friends, I’ll even deliver it (if our schedules allow)! Internet friends, we’ll work out a gift card. All you’ve got to do is leave a comment—anything at all, blog or non-blog related. Make sure you add your email address in the comment form or leave your Instagram handle in the body. I’ll choose one winner and announce in the next Friday Five post!  

Thanks for making it this far! Your reward is a photo of me from that around that same blogging era. Until next time!

I had my first pair of Vans and was very cool

The Gift

Of all the memories I have with my dad growing up, I think our most bonding moment was wrapping presents together.

Present wrapping was something he took very, very seriously. He was rarely the one to pick out or purchase gifts, but Mom always left the wrapping up to him. I don’t think he would be considered a detail-oriented person overall, but in his work as an aircraft mechanic and his position as official-family-wrapper, he was meticulous. There is a formula for the perfectly wrapped present; steps that must be followed in order. The selection of scissors and tape is vital to the overall success. I remember being sent to rummage through all the junk drawers, closets, and storage containers for a specific pair year after year that somehow never ended up designated “wrapping paper only” and packed away with Christmas stuff.

It was one of those things I didn’t know I’d take with me when I left. When it comes time to gift something, I’ve always chosen paper over bag. His voice and those images are in my head from the very first unrolling. The scissors start to glide and instantly I am hiding from gift recipients in different rooms, different houses, different states—but always with my dad, on the floor, eagerly watching. He is explaining every step; I’m lining up edges, making sure the pattern matches, placing the tape as hidden as possible, making sure creases come to perfect angles. I’m flipping the box over, hearing him describe how to trim and fold all the flaps evenly before placing the last bit of tape. 

This is different than a lot of my other memories that surround him during my growing up. There is no dark shadow over it, no reminder that our relationship has been complicated over the years. There is no sweet moment turned bitter by knowledge and maturity. It is just me and him. Every step reminding me of him purposely taking the time to show me something he cared about. Those memories giving way to other times he worked hard in meticulous detail to do something with me; for me. Like the time he built a doghouse for my beanie baby, Little Joe. I told him what I was dreaming up, and he just went out to the garage and built it to my exact specifications (half red, half white, black chimney, and a curved door that actually opened)!

Now that I’m a parent, I get that. When Abbott has an interest, I do everything I can to cultivate it. I love to surprise him with things that make him smile. And the times I can show him something I care about, and teach him how to do it enough that he cares about it, too? It fills me up! It feels like I have achieved the highest purpose or honor, and we have something beyond just blood to connect us forever. Growing my relationship with my son helps me understand my relationship with my parents. It brings us closer together, and helps to heal old wounds.

I told my husband all this while I was wrapping Christmas gifts last night. He said that I mention it every single year. I didn’t realize that...how important it actually is to me. 

I taped the last flap of the last gift in place. I peeled off the backing and put a bow in the top right corner (where bows are supposed to go, always). It sat there on the floor in all its beauty: the item inside, the thought behind it, the product of what my dad took the time to teach me; the knowledge that I am the person I am today because of the things he added to me, both on purpose—in painstaking detail—and without even knowing what it would become in me. 

It is a beautiful thing, and I can’t help but be thankful. I love my Dad.  

Images by Susie Ho and Kira auf der Heide

The In-Between

Welcome to my “December Daily” project! My goal is to dedicate serious time to writing each day this month. I want to have at least 25 stories by January 1st. Some will be just for our family yearbook; but I hope to post frequently, as “sharing” is currently the part of writing I’m struggling with most. They’ll be more laid back and conversational than my normal style, and I hope you’ll enjoy.
-Brit

I'm not in the mood for Christmas this year.

Not in a terribly scrooge-like way; and perhaps “not in the mood” isn't the best way to describe it. I just don't have the same can't-wait-to-decorate, celebrate, make magic like I usually do. I'm fully aware of the several factors that may be influencing my frame of mind:

-We spent thanksgiving out of town, staying as long as we possibly could—which lead to a marathon of a weekend—which made for an exhausting start to the week—which might have contributed to the cold that hit me like a train and kept in me in bed several days in a row. No one feels festive after all that.
-We won't be able to spend Christmas with my side of the family, and that's always a little hard.
-This is the first holiday season since losing my father-in-law, and that's always a little hard, too.

But after considering all those things and reflecting for awhile, I decided it's not foundationally a lack of Christmas spirit I’m feeling. It's that we're in a season of in-between.

Life has seasons of trial, rest, sickness, grief, joy, waiting, expectancy, work, struggle—and I would consider all of those completely different categories. This one, being in-between, is somewhat strange to describe. We aren't waiting for an answer or for a specific event; we have goals and desires for our family. We have game plans (from A-Z) on how to achieve them. We know what to do and how to put the work in, and we're crossing off the small goals on the way to bigger ones. But similar to a season of waiting (though less uncertain), we're just not at the place we know we're going yet.

One of the goals (the easiest one to describe and share, at least) is buying a house. We've more than overstayed our welcome in our current home. It's hard to want to put up a tree in a living room that's already too small. It's hard to lovingly arrange decorations in a place that doesn't feel like home, especially when I don't really want it to feel like home anymore. Right now, it has become just a passing lane on our journey.
That’s just something tangible. There are many more personal things keeping me and Anthony both feeling we're in an in-between place.

The real stuff that “Christmas” is made of—the pause, the wonder, the magic—it's just not appealing this year. I don't want to pause. I/We have worked hard to get here and it's finally paying off in progress. I want to stay focused! And I don't feel as inspired to create magic for Abbott, when he has grown (so recently!) enough to have real conversations—actual exchanges of thought with him about the world he sees. I still want to protect his innocence and sense of wonder of course, but these talks we've been having where He's processing the knowledge/feeling that Jesus is a very real thing, and what exactly that means to him—these are incredible. They fill my heart and spirit like I never imagined possible. They are sweeter to me than any North Pole fairy tale.

I know the value of Christmas spirit and the Christmas season. I know the value of fairy tales and have no intention of breaking the real news about Santa Claus yet. I understand how important it is to experience small moments and savor them. I actually consider that one of my strengths! I can point to multiple small, but eventually life-altering moments through the course of my life where I stopped and took everything in. I purposely cataloged every physical thing around me, every person in every relationship, every thought and emotion I felt; collecting those things because they'd never be the same again. I will certainly continue to do that!
So this is not another sentimental Instagram-caption-reminder to enjoy the little things. This is, if you need it, the prompting to give yourself permission to just be who you are and where you are right now; and not have to particularly enjoy it. I’m glad that I'm not content with who and where I am right now—because if I was, I would never move forward to anything else. I think a little discontentment is sometimes good. I remain focused on my bigger goals and aware of the small choices I need to make daily to get there.

I promise I will enjoy this Christmas season. Reluctantly putting up the tree and unpacking my beloved nutcrackers warmed my heart up a little bit. Hearing Abbott declare excitedly, “Wow! I waited all year! It's beautiful! Call Nana, Papa, Josh, Kimmy, Austin, they will love it.” warmed my heart up considerably. I'm not a scrooge, a Grinch, or even an Elsa. I'm not a cliché small-town Hallmark movie character, either. I am just in-between. And right here, here I am.

Photos by Kari Shea & Tyler Delgado

Puddles

I have never been happier to be a mom than I am right now. 

 Way to go, Hampton Inn.

I think I always pictured having kids when I pictured my future, but never as my main focus. Never as a stay at home mom, and for sure never this young. I always thought I'd get a degree and a creative job with crazy hours, do lots of traveling, be on my own for awhile...and then maybe settle down in my 30s. Yet here I am at 24, with a 3 1/2 year old and almost 5 years of marriage under my belt. (But I'm pretty glad God's plans overrode mine.)

My focus shifted after I realized I was going to settle down so young, and for awhile I kind of lost my identity in the process of becoming a mom. I know it happens to a lot of people! Regardless of where you're at in life, having a child changes so many things at once. It's impossible to adequately prepare for. As I feel like I've mentioned before, I'm just recently coming to terms with who/what God wants me to be, and I'm more content than I knew possible. I'm still on a journey...but I'm really living vs. surviving.

One of the things I have a newfound passion for is making the best life possible for my son. Yes, of course I've done that in different ways as long as he's been alive! But I mean really putting an emphasis on it. When he was younger, we had to focus a lot on his physical health, or that of our close family members. And for a long time, my greatest desire was a sibling for him, thinking that would make all of us happy. But when I finally surrendered to the fact that I am where I'm supposed to be, who I'm supposed to be right now--I was finally able to embrace and grow the relationship I have with him. We are all better people because of it!

While visiting friends & family recently, we were able to take a little detour to the beach. We didn't have a whole lot of time, and the weather wasn't obliging, but all of us really wanted Abbott to see the ocean for the first time. It's just one of those experiences every one should have! Even though we had to adjust plans and expectations, his reaction didn't disappoint. I loved seeing him take it all in.  

As fascinating as the ocean was...the puddles left by the morning's storms were equally (if not more) fun. He took the liberty of splashing in each. and. every. one. I shot away and looking through the photos later, I was so glad to see how many really captured the "essence" of who Abbott is right now, and memories I hope he'll keep forever. 

Here are some stories for my Abbott: 

I want you to remember being silly. I hope that stays a part of your personality! I hope I remember to take a step back and just let you do you sometimes...even if that means running after seagulls yelling, "QUACK QUACK!!"  

I want you to remember the carefreeness that is so fleeting in childhood. Here, you aren't worried one bit about the people staring at you a few feet away; or the fact that you don't have dry socks/shoes to ride home in; or even what nasty germs lie in that rainwater. You're just enjoying life. I want to keep you that way as long as I can.  

Sometimes it's just not feasible to run wild and splash in puddles, and you need to act appropriate and obey. But I love when you give me that look, as if asking permission for something you know you might not be allowed to do. I love when I get to say "yes" and you grin even bigger. I hope these little moments teach you that I only say "no" because I care. I know you'll be way older before you fully understand, but I hope you know that I only want the very best for you.

I love watching you explore new things. I missed out on so much because I was so nervous and afraid of things growing up. I hope moments like these keep your natural curiosity alive and thriving. I don't know what was so interesting, but I love watching you find out.

I want you to remember me and Daddy joining in on the fun, too. I remember the first time I realized that (some) adults seemed so disenchanted with the world and bored. I don't want to be that way. I'd like to think that's something you can teach me! Some of the most fun moments with my mom were moments she shocked us by acting crazy right along with whatever we were doing.

I'm trying to be a better photographer, to capture better memories and tell better stories. Not for my own sake, but for yours. I want to capture the kind of photos that make you feel things; that refuse to just be uploaded to Facebook and left alone. Because if they make me feel something, maybe they'll do the same for you. They can capture an emotion I can't express, but one you can understand.

I also want to show you the way I see you.  

I'll always try to tell you how smart and kind and brave you are; how perfectly created, how capable of anything. I know that you'll think I have to say that because you're mine. But if I could show you the way I see you and how strongly I believe in you from my very core...I think that would be the key to you doing great things. Perfect love casteth out fear; and I want to love you so well you're fearless.

I want you to be able to see me how you see me right now, too. I'm going to make some mistakes. I already have. One day we might argue. We might struggle to understand each other and cause hurt and disappointment even with the best intentions. I hate the thought of that! But if I do...I want you to remember how much we love each other. I want to have worked on our relationship so much when it's "easy" that we have something to hold on to when it's not.

I want you to know how happy I am to be your mom. To be something I never planned on, but needed to be so much. I want you to find the joy in being in God's Will, and how it dominoes into all aspects of your life. I want you to see how wonderful life can be, even when you're in the middle-not the end-of your journey.  

I hope you remember splashing in these puddles. They're so much more than just puddles to me.