I started writing this on the night before you turned 10. And I finished it nearly 9 months later. Because that's the way things go when you are the firstborn of five kids. You just have to wait. A lot. Which is a sacrifice you know well. But the length of time that it took me to write these words doesn't make them any less true... or necessary! I love you buddy... at any age!
Dear Noah,
How is it possible that you are Ten?
A full decade.
Two hands full of fingers.
DOUBLE DIGITS.
Over half of your life at home; as a child.
Time moves swiftly and sometimes in my mind, I still think of you as being a small boy. I have very vivid memories of you as a toddler and little boy. The best and most vivid memories of all the kids. After all, you were my one and only for nearly three years! And we sure did enjoy that special one-on-one time; you and me. It was so fun. So special. And that very fact makes you a little bit extra special. Because you are my first. And you always will be.
As you grow though, being the first comes with its own set of challenges. I know you are feeling these challenges because Eight and Nine have been some tough years for the two of us. You find yourself in the lonely role of being the oldest to four younger sisters. And because of that very fact, it makes you feel a little less special. Like I don't have as much time for you.
And I guess in some ways, it's true. We don't spend the same one-on-one time as we used to. Not because I don't want to. Just because I am outnumbered now. Very outnumbered. But trust me, I miss those times. I want more of those times. I need them as much as you do.
You also feel the brunt of the discipline because as the oldest, it feels as though we expect more from you. And I guess we do. Not because we love you less though. Just because we are doing our very best to teach you right from wrong and how to make good decisions and how to grow into a responsible young man. It'a a big job we have as parents and because you are the first, we don't really know how best to do it. We mess up. A lot. And we don't always model the kind of behavior we expect from you. We are a work-in-progress too. But the reality of all of this is that we love you so much that we want the very best for you...and sometimes that means that we are "hard on you".
But as you grow and we learn to navigate the sometimes rocky waters of these changes, here's what I want you to know, Noah. What I hope and pray you will know. What I need you to know.
You will always, always, be special.
When you don't see the special-ness in you, it breaks my heart.
I wish you could see your greatness.
Your special-ness.
I wish you could see all the reasons we love you so very much.
But now you are TEN... and 10 is an age where the opinions of your peers often carry more weight than those of me and your dad. Or your grandparents. Or of the people who care for and love you most.
You worry now. About what other people think of you. Or don't think of you. About whether braces will make you "weird" or if you will ever grow taller or if kids like you even though you aren't as good at soccer as some of the other kids. You worry you aren't enough. Aren't special enough.
But please hear me, son.
You are.
You are special.
Not just because you have blue eyes and blonde hair and are shorter than you would like and have a God given talent for golf.
But because you are ours.
Special because you were created for us.
And us for you.
You are special because you are made by God to be the one and only Noah Robert. God Himself breathed His very own life into you and has a plan and a purpose for your life. And that very fact makes you beyond special.
And YOU, dear Noah, are the one and only person who ever could have made me a mother and your dad a father.
You are special, son.
And you are worth it.
You are worth every ounce of love that your dad and me have to give.
You are worth the arguments and tears and power struggles and the "its not fair's".
You are worth the the effort it takes us to teach you and mold you and inspire you to grow up to be a kind and loving man.
You are worth the battles that Eight and Nine introduced to our lives. And the ones that are sure to come with Ten and beyond.
You are worth it all!
And even though I sometimes miss the easier days when you were a toddler and it was just the two of us, I believe in my heart of hearts that God has great things planned for you and that the best of your days are yet to come.
And you dad and me... well, we get to watch it all happen!
Happy Double Digit Birthday, Special, one-of-a-kind, Firstborn Child of ours!
We love you so very, very much!
My dear Emily Kate,
Tonight you were so lovely. On several occasions I thought my heart would burst as I watched your loveliness.
You read me a book with such beautiful expression and excitement. And your pure delight in doing this small act was lovely.
You decided to pick up the house because I wasn't feeling well and you wanted to surprise your daddy who has been out of town for several days. I didn't ask you to do this. You just did it. You did it with a smile. And your desire to serve me in this meaningful way was lovely.
You picked up your chunky baby sister who was crying and bounced her on your hip to quiet her and entertain her. And your motherly instinct and care for another was lovely.
You bounced and giggled on your bed with your little sister. You sweetly allowed her to join you on your bed and you played with her and made her laugh with delight. And it was lovely to watch.
You told me a story about your day at school. You smiled so brightly when you shared a part of your life with me. And it was lovely to be included in your thoughts.
You are a beautiful girl, Emily. You are lovely in so many ways.
But the things that make you the loveliest are not the things that the world will tell you makes a person beautiful.
The world will tell you that the way you look, the clothes you wear and the size of your body are what make you beautiful.
But please hear what I have to tell you sweet girl...
The world is wrong, Emily. So very, very wrong.
Your eyes do sparkle and your hair is silky and you do look precious in your tutu's and "sporty" clothes.
But those are not the things that make you beautiful.
What makes you radiantly beautiful is your heart.
Your spirit.
Your character.
Your kindness.
And tonight, in all those little things that you did, I saw your beauty shining so brightly.
You, just being you, was lovely.
Beautiful.
I watched a video today that I can't stop thinking about. A company put two signs above two different doors at the entry into the building. Above one door, the sign read "Average". Above the other door, the sign read "Beautiful". It was poignant to watch the women try to decide which door to walk through. To see how many beautiful women walked through the door marked "average". I suspect they walked through the "average" door because they were evaluating themselves by the world's idea of what makes a person beautiful. By how they look on the outside. By what size their clothes are. By whether or not they can wear a pair of skinny jeans.
And I wondered which door I would walk through. I hope I would choose beautiful.
And then I thought about you. And your sisters.
And how I hope and pray that you as you grow, you will know that you are beautiful.
You are beautiful because your are made in God's own image.
He resides within your heart and His love is beautiful. And that makes you beautiful too.
You are beautiful because your are uniquely you.
No one else has the same eyes that change color and no one else does cartwheels the same way and no one else can make her sisters feel as special as you. You are beautiful simply because you are YOU.
You are beautiful because you smile and laugh.
I've been telling you that "you're never full dressed without a smile" and "your smile is what makes you pretty" since the time you were old enough to talk. Your smile and your giggle are beautiful. Infectious really. Do the things in life that make you laugh. And smile. You get to decide how you approach life; what your attitude will be. Keep choosing fun, choose to giggle, choose to smile. A positive spirit radiates beauty. No matter how pretty your clothes are, it's the smile on your face that makes you beautiful.
You are beautiful because you are kind.
When you include others, when you refuse to speak badly about another person, when you share the special things that are yours, and when you seek to comfort those who are sad, you are being kind. And hear me loud and clear on this one, sweetie. Kindness is very, very beautiful.
It's already starting.
You are only seven, yet you are becoming aware of the world and its false idea of beauty. I know this and it scares me. It scares me because I fear the world's voice might speak so loud that you actually begin to believe it.
Don't believe it, Emily!
As you grow and you hear the world trying to whisper its lies to you about beauty, don't listen! No matter how loud the whisper gets, don't listen.
Listen to me instead.
Listen to Jesus. The one who created you in His own beauty.
Listen to the voice inside of you that reminds you that you are beautiful, even when you don't feel like it.
Listen to the truth.
And then, dear girl, hold your head high, stand tall, smile your infectious smile, and walk through the door marked "beautiful".
ALWAYS CHOOSE BEAUTIFUL.
Because you are.
I finally downloaded and organized the thousands of pictures taken on my phone from the past 6 months. Sometimes I wonder how on earth I take so many pictures!
I'm always amused by what I find when I go through this routine. The little girls love to take pictures on my phone. Usually their pictures are of really exciting things like their blankets, their feet, the TV programs they watch from my bed while I nurse, and lots of floor shots. But sometimes they end up taking pictures of me when I'm not looking or don't notice. I generally just combine all of those unfiltered images into a single folder to delete at the end of my picture organization. These images are not post worthy. They are ugly, taken at unflattering angles, and sometimes depict things about life that I'd rather not see. And so instant deletion of these images has been my standard MO for quite some time.
But after sorting these images this round, I didn't instantly delete them. I kept them in that folder for a few days. I don't really know why. Maybe it was just because I wasn't completely done with my organization process. Nevertheless, they stayed in existence. I didn't instantly delete them.
And then last night happened.
I spent three hours having a real conversation with some fellow mom's about some of the hard stuff of motherhood. One of the mom's made a comment that stuck with me all day today. She said to the other mom who was feeling particularly stressed in her current state of motherhood..."We all feel this way. It's just that no one ever talks about it."
Or shows it.
Let's be real. We live in the world of Instagram and Pinterest and Facebook where everything is neat and beautiful and filtered. Filtered to be post-worthy.
But is that real?
Sometimes it is. Sometimes it's not. Often it's filtered.
Don't get me wrong, I love me some Instagram and Pinterest, but I do worry that those social media sites create unrealistic ideals of what motherhood and marriage and life truly looks like. They set us up to feel inadequate with all their pretty pictures and filtered images.
I'm guilty of it too. This sacred little piece of cyber-space that I claim for myself is mostly comprised of my family's "highlight reel". But while I do selectively choose what I share here, I also try, at times, to speak to the hard that comes with parenting. To discuss the way that motherhood is refining me and pushing me to change for the better. To admit that I screw up and yell and do things wrong. To share perspective in a parenting world that is saturated with unattainable levels of competition and perfection. To give voice to the struggles that can come with having fussy babies. To confess that sometimes I'm not sure I'm even cut out for this. To be real. {click links to see various posts on those topics}
And while I may talk about real things from time to time, I don't necessarily show the realness.
I've had people tell me that I "have it all together". That my kids always look perfect. That they don't know "how I do it all."
Oh how I hate those types of statements!
I don't ever want people to think those things about me.
Because it's not true.
It's not real.
If for no reason other than to debunk those myths (because that is completely what they are), I decided to post some of those images taken by my littles. The ones that sat in that "to delete" folder these past days. The ones that are completely and totally unfiltered, yet so very real.
My family is not perfect.
I do not, by any stretch of the imagination, have it all together.
I don't "do it all".
We are just an average family... struggling day in and day out to figure out how to do the best we can. We have lots of good moments and many bad ones. We pray for the grace to simply survive on some days. We sometimes cry as much as we laugh. We have bad hair and dirty clothes and messy rooms. We oversleep and forget things and eat junk food too often. We have help. Lots of help from family and fabulous babysitters. And if you saw our life, unfiltered, you would see all of that mixed right in with the pretty parties and the matching outfits and the lovely images. You would see our realness.
I think being real and vulnerable are the key to creating meaningful connections and friendships...especially in motherhood. I have been blessed with some very special friendships and those relationships are cherished because they are unfiltered. They are real.
I encourage every mom to live life more unfiltered. To be more vulnerable. Being truthful and vulnerable doesn't have to make you a complainer, a whiner, or a negative person. It just makes you real. And real matters.
While I see all kinds of flaws in these unfiltered photos below, I also see real life. Life unfiltered. As captured by the people who care little to nothing about whether or not the images are post-worthy.
And that very fact might just make them the very best images I've ever posted.
So I'm more convinced than ever that I'm on point with my resolve to "Just Be" in 2015. Figuring that out was only the first step though. Now I have to figure out how to make that happen. And as I mentioned, just "being" isn't easy for a doer like myself!
But I'm trying. Fiercely and deliberately trying.
*****
I had a conversation with a mentor about the increasing level of chaos and sibling fighting that was occurring in my household. It felt suffocating to me. It was (is) often the reason I lose my cool and morph into Monster Mom. The one my kids dislike and I detest. My mentor suggested I make it a practice to put on music in those moments of fighting and frustration.
Music.
I had forgotten about music.
This was a habit I used to use frequently, but had began to lose over the months and years. As soon as she mentioned it, I knew she was right. Music changes the mood almost instantaneously. It immediately creates a more relaxed and fun atmosphere.
And perhaps, most importantly, it invites DANCING!
The more often music plays in our home, the more dancing I see. And the more opportunities there are for me to practice being present.
That's the key.
When the kids dance, I used to have a hard time just being still in that moment. Sure, I loved to watch their dances, but I always felt the nagging list of undone chores squelching part of the joy out of those moments. Not by choice, but because of my problem personality.
But since I have begun trying to be more present in my parenting, something fabulous has happened when I turn on the music.
I see the dances differently.
I SEE them. Really see them.
I'm watching with more intention.
I'm not hurrying them or begging them to finish.
I'm storing away, into the depths of my memory, their cute faces and the graceful and the not-so-graceful and the funny movements of their tiny bodies.
And here's one of the best parts...
Sometimes, more than ever before, I'm dancing with them! (and pulling muscles!)
Being present and watching these littles of mine dance to the music is a great feeling. I still feel the desire compulsion to finish my undone tasks, but when I focus on letting that nagging feeling settle, I see the things that really matter.
Things like this.
There will be more music playing in 2015.
Much more music.
And lots more dancing.
In the end, the music is a great distraction in times of frustration and the dancing is fun, but it's the relationships that are built and solidified through my participating in these moments have the most value. And for that reason I will continue to encourage them to dance.
