Currently, I’m sitting on the play side of the living room (who am I kidding, our entire living room is full of toys), but I’m against the wall using a boppy pillow for some cushion. My two year old and nine month old have managed to dump all of the buckets of toys everywhere! I am surrounded by play kitchen food, Blaze trucks, and Paw Patrols. The five and four year old I just found in the mudroom playing “grown ups”. My oldest is the Dad and has the four year old in the dog’s cage who is pretending to be a cat. (Who knows?) Ironic that the baby is still wearing his bib, which is covered in grossness, that says “I always win! #truestory”. His fuss bucket, teething self has been running our days for a few weeks now. My feelings about all of this… whatever. I’m honestly not mad about the disastrous mess, the loud random yelling, the running through the house, or any of it. I think I have finally come to a place of acceptance and am starting to embrace the madness that is my life.

Some highlights of my day (sarcastically of course) include my four year old who is potty trained pooped his pants twice, and as I was making my one healthy choice eating an apple, my two year old took it out of my hand, said “I like apples”, and walked away eating it. I starred kind of dumbfounded, shrugged, and thought at least he’s eating something. We started the day strong with eggs and fruit for breakfast and wait for it… for lunch, they ate McDonalds’ fries. I intended on feeding them some real food, but to be honest once we got home, I was tired, and they never said they were hungry, so I thought, oh well less dishes for me.

These days are weird. I’m home with my four boys, five and under. My husband is an essential worker, a nurse, so all day long, like really long, it’s just me and the boys. We have honestly gotten into a pretty good grove with me teaching virtually, doing my oldest’s school work with him, and keeping the other three alive and entertained. Some days I feel like super mom, and others I stare at the clock willing it to be 6:30 when my hubby returns, and I have another adult to talk to, some help, and just maybe a little sanity. I am certainly trying to value this extra time with my kids and enjoy it, but truth be told, this is not real life. I am trying to balance teaching virtually while being a stay at home mom, and quite frankly, it is hard. I start recording a video for my students and one of them yells, “Mom, I pooped!” meaning come wipe my booty. I of course help and then go to start my video again just in time for the baby to wake up from nap, then one needs yet another snack, I break up a fight or two, and so forth. This goes on for a very long time until I finally am able to complete a teaching video or two. The struggle is real.

But in the chaos, there is also so much beauty. My boys have made me belly laugh too many times to count. They also argue and get in trouble, but little kids are usually just so happy. They don’t really understand the extent of what’s going on. They are just happy we are home together, playing, and living their best life. Thankfully, we have a spacious house, a big country yard, and have had a few days with nice weather. We’ve been finding worms, toads, digging in the sand, swinging, climbing, and jumping on the trampoline. Kids are just so fun. Their main objective in life is to play! I mean seriously, I can get on board with that. Not a care in the world. My oldest will often tell me he’s too busy if I ask him to do something, and I’m like busy doing what? He’s busy playing, learning, and having fun. It’s been awesome to see the boys interact with each other and do crafts with them. The crafts… making play dough, decorating cookies, dying eggs… it’s stressful for me, but they love it so that makes it fun… well kind of. To see the world through a child’s eyes is truly amazing! So despite the craziness of this current situation, I feel so blessed to have my boys healthy and home with me. They have all become attached to my hip and want my undivided attention. It’s fun to watch them interact, imagine, role play, rough house, and just be kids.

Nine out of ten times my saint of a husband does bedtime. The other night after a few busy, long, hard played days outside, I thought they would sleep well… something my boys are not known for. But my two year old came out of his room crying several times. Normally, he is the easiest one to put to bed. When we finally stumbled upstairs to go to bed ourselves, he was sleeping on the floor with his blankey just outside of the hallway gate. It was the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. He so badly wanted to come downstairs, although it was way past bedtime. He wanted more cuddles, and he didn’t want the day to end. I picked him up, gave him a kiss, and laid him back in his little toddler bed. I stopped and starred for a few minutes and thought to myself, I don’t ever want to forget this. Their little energy crazed selves are thoroughly exhausting, but I love them so much! I love the littles! I love seeing their personalities evolve. I don’t want them to ever get big. I don’t want them to ever stop wanting to snuggle. I want them to stay little forever. My youngest is almost one, and I cannot believe it. I am over the teething, crying, crawling, getting into everything, but at the same time I can’t even picture not having a baby in the house.

So while this time is definitely filled with anxious feelings of uncertainty, I’m choosing to find the joys in everyday life. I am not beating myself up for caving in and giving them endless snacks. I am not worried about potty training my two year old. I am not pressuring myself to teach my four year old how to write his name correctly. I am not feeling guilty that everyday is not unicorns and rainbows. The days are long and hard, but in each day I am finding moments. Moments of joy, happiness, and laughter. I am spending more time just being. It’s nice to just be. I certainly feel overwhelmed, but I also feel peaceful. I feel happy not running errands after work, rushing the kids to activities, and squeezing in a quick bedtime routine. I’ve spent more time watching my kids play and listening to them talk, and that makes my heart happy.

This quarantine has helped me remember what’s important. I truly love my husband, and I have been blessed with an amazing house full of rambunctious little boys. They might drive me nuts, but they are incredible little kids each having their own unique personalities and quirks. The hustle and bustle of everyday life is tiring, physically and mentally, and I think this quarantine is just what my family needed. So… this brings me back to my original question, is this real life? No, not really, but it is life right now, and I’m choosing to embrace it, both the beauty and the chaos.

Listen, little girls are the cutest! All the outfits with ruffle booties and the headbands and bows bigger than their heads… I love it! But as a mama of four precious little boys… ahhh a new baby boy stops me in my tracks. My best friend recently welcomed her fifth child which just so happens to be her first boy. My heart filled with happiness as she cried tears of joys telling me that the ultrasound, much to her surprise, revealed she was pregnant with a BOY! The tears began streaming on my end as well. As a boy mom I know a few things about boys… dinosaurs, noise, dirt! I love my mama’s boys, and they have my heart. The way they look at me and smile… ahhh is there anything better? Looking at a little newborn, you are filled with hopes and dreams for their future, the unlimited possibilities. You only think good, happy, positive thoughts. But then, your baby grows into a child, and reality sets in. LIfe is not all rainbows and unicorns, or I guess rainbows and dinosaurs in my case. 

I love my boys with everything in me, but boy can they be challenging! All four of them in both similar and different ways. For example, my oldest is the worst eater ever. We did everything by the book with him. We introduced veggies first, followed by fruits. Up until 1.5 years old, he ate anything we put in front of him. Then, it was like a switch flipped, and he stopped eating! Nothing, nada, zip! I tried forcing him to take bites, and that ended terribly. I tried not feeding him anything other then what was served for dinner, and he’d wake up in the middle of the night screaming because he was starving. So eventually, I basically gave up and fed him what he liked. The doctors told me to keep offering him a variety of foods, and I did which he continued to refuse. They assured me over and over that it was a phase, and it’s common. But here we are at 5 years old, and the list of foods he will actually eat is very short! So back to the doctor for recommendations we went, and we are trying new tactics with him and having some success slowly, but surely. Parenting is hard, plain and simple. Everyone has their opinions about what you should of done, but here’s the deal… We are all trying our best and just doing what we think and feel is right for our kids. And that’s all we really can do.

So fresh in my mind is my nightmare from last night reminding me of that very fact that parenting is hard. One of my biggest struggles is the fact that my two oldest are both painfully shy. They do not talk much to people outside of our family and core group of friends. They go to Sunday School at church weekly, and I pick them up and hear, “They are so sweet and well behaved. They barely said a word.” As a mom, this honestly breaks my heart. I know they are who they are, and I love who they are. I know they are shy and that’s ok, but I just wish the world could see their fun personalities that I see and love everyday. But that’s just not the case…

So back to last night… I signed my oldest two up for swim lessons because they need to learn and get more comfortable in the water. We spend a lot of time swimming in the summer, and our new home has a pond so it’s a very big necessity that they at least know the basics. I know my kids. I knew this wouldn’t be an easy feat. But my oldest has been going to preschool all year long and hasn’t cried even once at drop off. His teacher said that he’s coming out of his shell and talking more and more. I see his face light up when we walk into his class, and the other kids run over to say hi. We’ve made some BIG progress so I thought how bad could swim lessons be? Not a big deal, right? Wrong! Wrong! And wrong again!

My husband and I had been preparing them for weeks about these upcoming lessons mentioning it here and there. Telling them they would have a teacher, and it would be fun. We talked about a few things they might do in the water. On the way there, we even practiced asking them questions the teacher might ask and having them answer. When I say we tried, I mean it… we tried! 

So here comes the big moment, we get there, swim trunks on, anxiously waiting for our class to begin. My second oldest has already informed me repeatedly, he is not doing swim lessons, and he is not getting in the water. So I’m expecting him to not do much, but at least he’ll watch his older brother. The oldest on the other hand is thrilled and talking a big game. As the time gets closer, I see there are only two other kids in their group. This is perfect, I think, a small group, the instructor is nice and super friendly. The time finally comes when it’s their turn for lessons. They are simply supposed to sit on the edge of the pool with their feet in the water. I can see the anxiety creeping all over their faces. And can you guess what happens? Tears! Lots and lots and lots of tears. Neither of them will get it. I’m holding the baby, the 2 year old is bouncing back and forth between my husband and I wanting to get in the pool, but the two who are actually supposed to get in the water are both crying. We are coaxing and trying to remain calm, all while keeping the other two happy and content. By this point, I’m sweating profusely. It’s already hot in there, I have a long sleeve shirt on, I am trying to wrangle two littles, watching the two bigs refuse to do anything, and feeling the weight of everyone’s stares. It was awful! 

On the outside, I am smiling. On the inside, it’s a different story. My heart is tight, and I am crushed. Why oh why can’t my children ever just go with the flow?! Why is every little thing such a big deal?! Why do I not know how to prepare them for this type of stuff?! What am I doing wrong?! Then, I begin to spiral down the rabbit hole. My oldest won’t eat food, my second oldest is still having “accidents” even though he is fully capable of using the bathroom, he also keeps hitting his younger brother, the 2 year old is hard to understand and doesn’t enunciate when he talks, he also has the biggest ‘tude, and tells me no all the time…. Why oh why?! But hey, a small win, as of now, the baby is pretty good. But overall, I am clearly failing at this whole mom thing. But as I sit there beating myself up… on the outside, to the world around, I still appear cool, calm, and collected.

 So what happens at the swimming lessons… not much. With ten minutes left, they finally with some “help” from my husband sit on the edge of the pool with their feet in the water, but far away from the other kids in their group. They have stopped crying though and are kind of, sort of smiling. This is a small victory I think. The teacher makes an effort to talk to them, and they somewhat respond. Then, it’s time to go and the agganizing forever, ok half hour, has ended. And the tears come again and even harder this time because they didn’t get to go swimming. Are you kidding me? I go change them back to their clothes through the tears with the explanation that maybe next time they should go in the water when they are supposed to. But then I stop and think, wait what’s the right way to handle this? I eventually say that I am sorry you are upset, but you chose not to participate and class is over. I tell them I am proud that they did sit and put their feet in the water. And I truly mean that. For them, it really is all about those little things. To them, they are very big things. I tell them that they weren’t even scared, and once they did it, they had fun. I tell them that I know the next lesson will be better. But in my head, I am already dreading next week. In my heart, I am sad. I am sad that they are so shy that new situations give them such high anxiety resulting in tears. I am sad that I feel sad. Does that even make sense? I am sad that I cannot be better at accepting them for who they are. I am sad that I don’t know what to do to help them. I am sad that I don’t have all the answers. I am sad that I am apologizing to the swim instructor and explaining that they are just shy and will get used to it. I am sad that despite how much I try this will continue to be my life for years to come. 

So while my friend is thrilled about her new baby boy, as am I, my heart also goes out to her and moms everywhere. Because we all want the world for our babies. New babies bring a vision of a perfect life with happy kids. And that just isn’t always the case. I am trying to remember that while we are struggling with parenting, the kids are struggling to figure life out as well. It may be hard for me to watch my boys be painfully shy and struggle through new situations, but really it isn’t about me. It’s about them. It’s hard for them too. We are doing the best we can, and so are they. If putting their feet in the water far away from the group was all they could manage, so be it, damn it. I am proud that they made some progress, although it may be small. I am going to choose to love, accept, and celebrate my boys for who they are. I am going to try anyway… and pray that I have the strength to do just that.

Sometimes being a parent is just that hard. My husband and I took a parenting class a few months ago. I listened, I took notes, and I waited for the magical answer to everything. Turns out, there isn’t one. I remember asking something and the leader said, “You are not doing anything wrong. Parenting is just that hard.” What a breath of fresh air that is to hear.  

So dear sweet mama, whatever you and your kids are struggling with… a picky eater, a shy kid, an impulsive kid, or the million other things that it could possibly be, just know that some other parent is struggling with the same exact thing. Despite how alone you feel, you are absolutely not. And please, please, please remember… You are not doing anything wrong. Parenting is just that hard.   

Everyday I try so hard… well, most days anyway. I try to keep up with the housework, play with my boys, get some me time to work out and read a devotional, give my husband at least a minute or two of attention, be a good teacher at school, and the list goes on. You know what I’m talking about… all the things that are suppose to make you healthier and happier because you have time in your already jam packed schedule, right?! But nonetheless, I give it my all. Admittedly I am not always successful, but not for lack of effort, and sometimes I just want to take a few minutes to breathe and relax.

So let me set the stage… Tuesday night I went to a meeting at my son’s school for 2.5 hours! I didn’t see my kids or even eat dinner so I decided Wednesday would be better. I would be intentional about playing with my boys, make a good dinner, and fold at least one load of laundry. So Wednesday came, and I attempted to do just that. I folded two loads of laundry and made dinner. Sounds successful, right? It wasn’t! Nobody ate my dinner, and I sat through a tortuous meal with grumpy children because I am trying to teach them that at dinner time we sit and eat contrary to what they think. Afterwards, I did the dishes and begrudgingly wondered why I even tried. I literally took all the food from their plates and scrapped it into the dog’s dish. I basically put food on their plates to give myself more dishes. In the midst of trying to get everything done, one of my boys fell asleep on the couch. Insert bad mom thoughts for not playing with him or any of the others for that matter. But back to the one on the couch… by the time I went to carry him upstairs to bed, I noticed he had peed all over himself. Some more negative thoughts creep in… You should of put his pull up on right away. But then he would of woke up. But now you have pee everywhere… including all over the biggest couch cushion. Insert major sigh! Mind you this is all after my day of work outside the home.

So first things first, I cried because that solves a lot. Then, I pulled myself togetherish and grouchily cleaned him up, put the pull up on, tore off the couch cushion cover, and threw it in the washer.

By now it’s pretty late, and I’m not feeling so hot, but I still have so much to do. Diaper bags need packed for Grandma’s house tomorrow and so do lunches for school. As I am going over my mental checklist, I remember my oldest has a play date tomorrow. Mind you, he’s five, but nonetheless in my mind I need that couch cushion cover back on by then. Why????? I battle with myself. Five year olds don’t care about that and probably wouldn’t even notice. But even though I know it doesn’t make sense, it is what it is, and I want it back on by then. I’m too tired tonight though. I decide I’ll wake up extra early tomorrow morning to work out, pump, read a devotional, pack diaper bags, lunches, and fix the damn couch cushion.

So I wake up early as promised and do all the things. By the time I leave though, that couch cushion cover still isn’t dry. I go to work and struggle through the morning because I’m feeling sick to my stomach. Finally, a substitute is secured, and I leave just before lunch and go find the couch… you know, the one with the missing cushion. I sleep there and set an alarm to get the oldest and his friend off the bus. I get up early enough to shove the cushion back into the cover because remember five year olds care.

So fast forward to Friday… I’m feeling much better. I have a productive day at work. Afterwards, I take my oldest to the store to have him spend his own money on the new markers he wants. I’m feeling like a really good mom. Laundry is pretty caught up, the house is cleanish, and my oldest and I are going to watch a movie together, just the two of us. We get home and settled, and since I picked him up he’s been talking nonstop about how he really wants hot cocoa. He’s five, pretty responsible, and the little boys aren’t home so I make him a cup and put it on the coffee table and just guess what happens?! He spills his hot cocoa all over the damn couch cushion. Oh the irony of it all. Lord give me patience!

He says he’s sorry over and over, and I can tell he truly feels bad. I again pull off the cushion cover and throw it in the washer. There is a cushion missing from the couch again… twice in one week.

So here’s what that missing couch cushion taught me. Ready for this magical reveal… ‘Tis life! The missing couch cushion can remind me of the daily struggles and how something is always going wrong, OR it can remind me that it’s life and if this is my biggest problem I’m pretty lucky. Better yet, I’m blessed to have kids who spill on the couch cushions in the first place.

I will never be caught up with life and even on the nights that are suppose to be good and relaxing, things will still go wrong. And… it’s ok. What truly matters is not what goes wrong, but how I react to it. I wanted to yell at him and lecture him about how I just washed it and how I so badly wanted to sit down. But what would that have solved? Absolutely nothing! He’s five. He wasn’t trying to spill. It was an accident. So I sighed, took a few breaths, and said it’s ok.

After all was well, we snuggled up on the other cushions… you know the ones not missing, to enjoy the movie, and you aren’t going to believe what happens… He spilled water all over another couch cushion, and I had to just laugh because come on!

Don’t worry, I eventually got smart and took all the drinks away. But I’m here to remind you… ‘Tis life, and regardless of how you feel in the moment… it’ll be ok. I promise. (Coming from a mama who often loses her temper and is trying to be better and let the small things go.)

So it’s the middle of February, and I feel like I’ve learned a lot in 2020 already. I’ve done some soul searching and here’s what has immensely helped me… and maybe, just maybe will help you too.

First, I took a long, hard look in the metaphorical and physical mirror. I quickly realized I needed to re-evaluate my life and priorities. I had to find some quiet moments to myself to figure out what was going well and what wasn’t. And the cold hard truth was… not much was going well. My life was afloat, not flourishing, not thriving, but simply surviving. Do you ever feel like you’re in a big body of water kicking, wading, dipping under just a little, and then gasping for air? That was me. That still is me sometimes. But for the most part, I’m feeling less like I’m drowning, and more like I’m swimming.

My first realization was probably a selfish one. I looked in the mirror, I weighed myself, and I felt embarrassed. Seven months postpartum and weighing more than ever before. I know, I know… my body has birthed 4 babies in five years, what a blessing, give yourself some grace, it takes time. I know… I’ve heard it all. But what bothered me the most was my lack of effort. Contrary to my usual train of thoughts, ice cream, chocolate, and stress eating don’t actually solve problems. So first things first, I started working out every single day. Yup, me, working out every single day. I never thought I’d be that person, but let me tell you, I love that person. I feel happier, stronger, and mentally lighter. I feel like I can breathe a little easier and the tightness in my chest isn’t so tight. For 30 minutes, I can just focus on exercising my body and clearing my mind. It’s now how I start my days. The excuses are endless, and I know this because I’ve said every one of them. My best excuse is my boys do not sleep. Most nights I’m up 3-4 times, but I still get up. Because I’ve realized that extra hour of sleep makes me feel guilty and doesn’t give me the me time I so badly needed. So while I’m still tired, waking up in the 5:00 hour to exercise is a good way to start my day, physically and mentally. I never thought I’d be that person, but now I truly crave it and can’t imagine not having that time.

What goes hand in hand with exercising? Eating healthy of course. I am a snacker and a true lover of everything bad for you. Ice cream, chocolate, chips, take out… you name it, chances are I love it! But I’m choosing to eat healthier food and drinking lots of water. I wish I could say this was easy, but it’s not. Some days I’m pretty successful, while others I completely fail. When I do well physically, I feel better, and I don’t need tums every evening so that’s a win. But let me tell you… The struggle is real. However, every time I decide to indulge in a guilty pleasure, my body feels gross afterwards. Eating healthy is hard, but man oh man my body thanks me.

Then I realized, I needed to change my mindset. Your mind is truly incredible and a very powerful thing. I needed to fill mine with positive thoughts, prayers, and encouragement. Following my exercise, I spend ten minutes reading a devotional and praying. Ten minutes doesn’t sound like much, and it isn’t, but it’s a start. It sets my mood, my intention, my soul… it prepares me for the day ahead. It gives me peace, it calms my irrational thoughts, and it helps me focus my mind on what is actually important in this thing we call life. God is helping me whether it’s with the big or the small things. That time is filling my cup up so that when it runs over, the good spills out.

So basically to sum it up, I needed some quality me time. As everyone refers to it, I needed some self care. I know it’s a lot easier said than done. I get it. I’ve been struggling to find a balance for years with this. I frequently battled with wondering how to give myself me time without taking away time or impacting anyone else in the family. Early mornings seemed like my only solution, and it’s been so so so wonderful.

Now that I’ve been taking care of myself better, I know I needed to pour into my family. For me this meant finding patience, less yelling, and finding patience and yelling less, and then finding more patience, and taking a few breaths, oh and did I mention yelling less? With little kids, it’s hard. I repeat… it’s hard, very hard! They are truly exhausting. They throw fits about everything. Who knew we’d have to sit at the dinner table again, and who knew we’d have to go to bed every night? Not my kids. It’s a surprise and a fit EVERY night. It’s like they take turns, or on a really good night they all fall apart together. So what do I do? I keep going. I try to be patient. I try not to yell. I try to focus on the good things I see and hear from them and replay them in my mind when all I want to do is yell. Do I still yell? Of course, I’m human. But I’m getting much better and have a sense of peace. Remember those devotionals and prayers I mentioned? Oh the peace and calmness it’s bringing me is life changing.

Ok so now I’m mentally and physically feeling better and my kids are alive and well so onto my marriage. Honestly, my poor husband gets what left of me and as I’m sure you can imagine, it isn’t much. I’m tired and just want to zone out. After spending so much time with little kids at work and home, I crave silence and alone time. However, I’m trying to make a better effort. An effort to make conversation, to snuggle, and to put my damn phone down. To just be in his presence and actually be present. Even if that just means watching a show together. Some time is better than no time. We’ve also been working on that whole dating your spouse thing. This is hard to do when you have four kids. Sometimes we get to have an actual date, while other nights, most nights it’s putting the kids to bed and relaxing together. Not doing laundry, not scrolling Facebook, or checking ESPN (my husband of course), but just simply being together. Actually together. Laughing, talking, cuddling, and just being.

The next realization I made was I need to stop trying to keep up with the… you fill in the name. With social media, it’s so hard not to compare yourself and your life to others. You see everyone’s highlight reel. You see their vacations and fun nightly activities. People typically don’t post their kids throwing fits. And you assume their life is easy and perfect. Their kids must behave, eat their dinner, and bedtime must be a breeze. Then you think, what the heck am I doing wrong?! But here’s the deal, comparison is the thief of joy my friends. It does absolutely no good. But I’ll admit I’m the first to do it. I ask questions like, “How can they afford Disney again?” “How can they afford for her to be at stay at home mom, and still do all those fun activities?” “How does she always look so put together with so many kids?” And the questions go on and on and on. But really, it does not matter! I am working on focusing on my family and what we get to do. It may not be everything I want, but im trying to find the joy in our activities. Days spent sledding, nights bowling, movies and popcorn in pajamas… the cost of it doesn’t matter, but my attitude and focusing on enjoying OUR life and being grateful for that is what is important.

The other week I was at my son’s school volunteering. Another mom and I got to chatting and realized we lived on the same road. I was telling her where exactly. She said, “You mean the house with a Christmas tree in every window?” I laughed and said something about yes my husband will be glad you noticed his hard work. Another dad overheard us and he said, “You mean the big house by the tracks.” I was slightly puzzled as I don’t consider my house “big” so I further described it. He responded, “Ya with the play set, trampoline, and pond.” I said, “Yep, that’s us.” Then it hit me. I wouldn’t say my house is “big” because compared to the houses in the district where I teach, it isn’t. Compared to the town I live in, it probably is considered big. So I’m busy over here trying to keep up with the, again insert name, and someone else is looking at us like “wow they’ve got a big house with a play set, trampoline, and a pond”. So I guess I say all this to let it be known that it doesn’t matter. While I’m busy focusing on someone else and assuming their life is grand because of x, y, and z, other people are thinking the exact same thing about us. None of us should be comparing our lives to others. We are all different and that’s ok. We need to find happiness in our own lives.

Which leads to my next thought… It’s ok to be average! Yup, read that again. It’s ok to be average. In today’s society, everyone is always searching for more. Constantly trying to be better and looking forward to when this or that happens. While I’m all for self development and being the best version of yourself, it’s ok to just be yourself. An “average” life, whatever that may look like to you, is a GOOD life. Most people work, have kids, and enjoy their evenings or weekends. And that’s ok. It’s good to find happiness in your everyday life. Most people aren’t going to win the lottery, retire, and go on dream vacations all the time. But day to day life is pretty darn amazing with the right attitude and perspective. Find joy in your life everyday. Don’t live for the future, live for the now, and be happy about it. Stop wishing your damn life away. Embrace it! And whatever “it” looks like is perfectly fine!

Here’s my next thought, slow down! Everyone is so caught up in the hustle and bustle of life. You feel like every minute needs scheduled and you don’t know how to do “nothing”. Having no plans sometimes leads to the best days! Stop letting your calendar rule your life. Leave some time open for a “What do we feel like doing day?” It’s ok not to have your child in every sport. And listen to this… it’s ok to say no to things you don’t want to do. You do you, mama! You do what’s best for you and your family.

My final thought is something I read in my devotional book by Lysa TerKeurst. She wrote, “Great sermons are not preached. They are lived.” Wow, that’s powerful. Let that sink in. So I’m trying to make good choices and let my life, not necessarily my words, radiate love and happiness. Actions speak louder than words as the old saying goes. What are your actions saying? I’m making an effort to say less and listen more. Something I’ve done for years when I’m in a room alone or behind closed doors with my kids is think, “Would I be embarrassed of my thoughts, words, and actions or proud of them?” Now, here’s the irony… I’m never alone. God is always with me so I’m making a conscious effort to make him proud. I want to set a positive example for my kids. I am nowhere near perfect, but I’m certainly trying. I’m trying to be the best I can be, but also without being overly critical and enjoying the process. Life is not a destination, it’s a journey. Enjoy the ride, take the scenic route, breathe in God’s beauty, and find your happiness.