The Year of Iron.

Last year on our wedding anniversary, my husband and I felt like we had hit a milestone. For us, 5 years of marriage was always a type of mile marker. We wanted that anniversary to represent the end of our establishment period. We wanted to know on our 5 year anniversary, that we had faced every single obstacle and come through it better people. To know that we had nurtured and created the type of family we had always envisioned. To know, on that 5 year anniversary, that we had not squandered our opportunities, had not foolishly repeated our mistakes. That we had cultivated and evolved together, as individuals, and as a family. And on that day one year ago we humbly, and overwhelmingly realized, that despite everything and everyone who stood so strongly against us, we had done it.

We had reached our mile marker.

So what then, happens when we reach our 6th anniversary? Today, on that very day, I realize how 6 years means even more than we thought 5 years would mean. Every year, my husband and I use the traditional anniversary gifts for each year of marriage to buy for each other. It makes it easier, more interesting, and a lot more fun. The traditional gift for the 6th year, is iron. The symbolism of this years gift was profound to me. Even though my actual gift was something that was a bit more tongue in cheek, the importance of this year I wanted to portray though this post.

Recently, while driving, my husband and I were reflecting on how truly far we have come in our marriage. 5 years ago we were going through bankruptcy, living on $20 for two weeks, surviving on solely Ramen noodles. While many others we knew were buying extravagant things for no reason, throwing expensive weddings, being helped out financially, we were struggling in a way that some people could never understand. Today, we have moved a total of almost 3,000 miles around this country. We have a beautiful home, a car we can actually afford, and a job that allows us to support a family of 5 on one income. Thinking of where we were 5 years ago, it's a miracle that we ever got out of my mother in laws spare bedroom. We have been tested. Just as iron creates the Earth, our hard times have created us. Just as iron melts under extreme temperatures, our difficulties have forged us anew every time. 

Marriage is this beautiful entanglement of blessings and arduousness. The lessons it allows you to learn about yourself, about your partner, about this world; it is never-ending. The past 6 years have been something of a whirlwind for my husband and me. For the very first year since I've married him, this is the year I can finally see what we've accomplished together. I can sit calmly back and admire the man he has grown into, the husband he constantly aspires to be, the true father he so passionately encapsulates. I can look around at all we've managed to accumulate for ourselves and see that past the material possessions, we have found ourselves in our time of peace. And 6 years later, I know that the things that have allowed us to overcome have been simple:

Gratitude. Not only for each other, but for the fact that even when the weight of our struggles threatened to break us, we still woke up to each other. Healthy and whole. 

Appreciation. For those who supported us in so many ways. For the beautiful children that thrived no matter our financial situation. For each other.

Understanding. To understand that we would be supportive of each other in happiness, anger, sadness, etc... To understand that those emotions weren't always directed toward the other. To understand how to help each other muddle through the bad. To understand when to celebrate the good. To understand that there aren't always answers. To understand that that's okay. 

Humbleness. To know that we have had hard times, but also know that those times could always find us again. To know that with all that we have, we could just as quickly have nothing. To remind ourselves that our marriage is something unique to us and will never make us better than or below other couples and their marriages. To know that our successes would never mean anything without the 5 beating hearts that sleep under our roof. 

Perspective. Knowing which battles are worth fighting for, which losses are worth crying over, and which roads are worth paving. 

I used to always think that my proudest accomplishment in life would be my children. If I could see them grow into happy, healthy, respectful young men, I would feel as though I succeeded. I know now though, that at the end of my life, my proudest accomplishment will have been my marriage. My marriage and my husband, is what makes all that I have in my life possible. And I am eternally grateful that I get to make such a tribute to our children, while standing beside my very best friend in the whole world. 

My Social Network Pause.

I have been in a deep conversation with myself for the past 6 months about who I am and what is important. I have many hats that are required of my time. And due to the nature of how I am made, I put a lot of weight on myself to get each of those perfect. 

But I am not perfect.

Nothing I do is perfect. 

So to find peace within myself, I need to simplify those things at which I have decided need to be done well. Like thinning a row of beets so that you get a better crop in the end, I need to cut things out. As it stands, my focus has always been at home. My children do not attend sports or scouts. We don't do swim or music lessons. With a rotating schedule like ours, one month those things would be fine, but the next they would be jumbled messes where I spend my time taking away any of the joy that may have existed with those activities, because they would be so hard to keep up with.  

Painfully hard.  

And it would not be peaceful at all.

Even in writing this I am asking myself, "What am I thinking? I am depriving my children for my own comfort. What is my comfort in the scheme of things?’' Another blog writer and amazing woman wrote on a note of similar ilk, “I am an observer and a participant in both the story of violence and the story of intentional non-violence.” I want to be a participant in intentional non-violence. With my hands and with my tongue. I want to watch what my kids do when they are bored. And have time to let them be bored. I want to be gracious and kind when they make mistakes. I want to take a deep breath and help them through their emotional fits, while at the same time not fighting my own. And I want my children to see that mama. The mama that can stand in the rain, and laugh at the flat tire that just made Daddy very late. Then slowly show them how to change the spare, letting all commitments of getting there on time (at all!) fly out the window.

For all this, I need time. I need space between commitments. I need to be able to breathe deep and full… and regularly know what that feels like. Sometimes that space is hard to find. But it is rarely hard to get.  It just requires saying no to the things that fill up the space so that there is room for those tiny moments that I collect. Because those are the moments I am looking for. Moments spent…

staring at the million and one planes in the sky that my children point out,

walking through a toy-scattered floor,

watching the baby search for bugs under rocks,

listening to the bird sing outside my window,

cooking with some really loud music and no screens in sight,

reading the same book over and over to my 2 year old, 

joining in a living-room dance party,

pretending to be a water/air/fire/earth bender,

listening to my son memorize a new word,

enjoying a good minute of silence,

cleaning to the rhythm of a new song I love…. 

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So right now I may not keep in touch very often. I may only read the news every few days. My children may not participate in sports. I may not blog on a schedule. My acquaintances may thin out considerably. I may not even craft. I may just live this life I have created slowly and intentionally and I may love it.  A lot. Because giving up all of this is only for a season. I want to be fully embedded in each season I am in. I want to feel and love and watch with awe, all of the amazing moments around me. I am in a season of my family.  All in the same house, together. Learning and loving and enjoying each other. This will only be for a little while. My oldest is quickly becoming a real, grown-up, kid. The moments with us all together are ticking away by the second. A month goes by in a flash. The years are fleeting. And I wouldn’t want to miss this life for the world.

Forever Five.

Today, my son, you are turning five. A simple fact that leaves me baffled. These past five years seem to have been the fastest I've ever known and yet, that small baby I welcomed at the hospital also seems a far distant memory to the little man you are today. I also welcome this day with enormous amounts of joy (and maybe a little sadness too), because I realize how blessed I am to have been given even a moment as your mother, let alone five glorious years. I am humbled by the gift that you have been to your Father and me. You were my first great adventure in motherhood and a part of me feels as though you and I are finishing our first of many chapters together.

This birthday, like all of your birthdays, always leaves me quietly assessing the person you are growing up to be. A little boy who is boundless. Who, while he knows his limits, quietly teaches himself how to grow past them. You are a never-ending wave of questions and theories, constantly wanting to know how things work and how the things around him connect and intertwine. As your mother this is equal parts maddening, as well as beautiful. Your questions, while they are many, all serve a purpose. They are the questions of a little boy who understands and sees so much more than his five years. They are the questions of a young man, as much as it pains me to admit. You're evolving much faster than I had ever anticipated. The older you become, the more challenges you offer me as a parent. How do I harness such brilliance? How do I help guide such innocence? How do I temper a young boy who stands so confidently in his ways?

Your questions and inquiries stop at nothing, especially when it comes to my methods in parenthood. You stand toe to toe with me when you are fighting for something. I've sometimes even had to concede to your side, because you present me with sound logic and reasoning, even at only five years old. You bring a complexity to my job as your mother. Just when I feel as though I have mastered the art of who you are, you become someone totally different. The layers of yourself that you have allowed me to share and learn from, have made me a better person. Your extremely literal view of the world around you has allowed me, even in my adulthood, to questions things I never thought to. Your thirst for information is something that has even surprised those who do not know you. A small boy who wants to know the names of clouds and who asks me to search the internet for pictures of giant jellyfish and what pufferfish eat. You have a mind that is simply a wonder to sit back and watch work.

So today, you will turn five. And while a part of me wishes that I could keep you forever five, my curiosity overcomes the sentiment. I cannot wait to watch you grow to six, to 10, to 30. Because as I sit here and write this to you at five, I can already see that man who I will write to at 30 years old. The center of who you are, who you will become, you have worn like a badge since our first day together five years ago. I knew then, as I know now, that you would be someone great. Someone kind, someone caring, someone passionate and curious. You are everything now, that I knew you'd be then, as well as exponentially more than I could have ever imagined. I thank you for choosing me to be your mother. Thank you for allowing me to be the one who would get to care for such a bright and loving child. I only hope that I can share a lifetime of birthdays with you.

Happy Birthday, my son.
I love you forever.

Mommy

Me Against Myself.

The post that you are about to read has been worked on sporadically over the course of the past 14 months. I started it just when I was cleared to begin exercising after my 3rd cesarean section in 4 years. It started as something I was doing for myself, so that I would be able to see the progress, but it became something more. It became a realization, it became a reflection of the growth I was having not only on the outside, but on the inside as well. Over the course of the past 14 months I have sweat hard, I have learned SO much about food and healthy life choices, and I have come to understand one very important lesson; to be kind to myself. I've fallen off the wagon several times since starting this "fitness journal" and there have been times where I was anything but kind to myself about it. As I sit here and write this though, I feel that I've come out on the other side of all of that. The mental "exercising" that goes along with training is equally as important as the physical. It takes determination, it takes focus, and it takes a healthy dose of reality. To understand that you are only human and your physical health is a lifetime journey, not just a 12 week fad diet.

Anywho! Let's get to it...

(Disclaimer: Please excuse the quality of the pictures. They were strictly camera phone and some I had to do myself. And my husband may also be quite hopeless at any and all picture-taking...)

MARCH 23, 2012: Officially started exercising!

Personal Stats:

-7 weeks post-partum.
-136 lbs; 5'4" tall.
-Started clean-eating about two weeks prior.
At no point will I be on any kind of "diet"
I will not be calorie counting or putting myself on any kind of food restrictions(with the exception of fast-food).
This will just be healthy food choices and portion control!
Do I "indulge" still? Absolutely! All things in moderation!
-Exercising 3-4 times a week.

I almost didn't want to share progress pictures...

I am a woman after all! 

Self-consciousness aside, I realized that the showing may be more effective than the telling.

Keep in mind that this was 6 weeks post cesarean and I had gone from 120 lbs pre-pregnancy to 164 lbs at time of delivery. I had also done zero exercising at this point.

APRIL 9, 2012:

Personal Stats:

-First time on a scale since my 4 week PP appt.
-Weight: 134 lbs.
-Lesson: IGNORE THE SCALE!
Despite all of the drastic changes I had made, I had only lost two pounds in five weeks!
After being momentarily discouraged I reminded myself that I could see the changes in my body, regardless of whatever number was on the scale.
 Even more importantly, I could feel the changes.
-Can run 15 minutes without stopping.

APRIL 18, 2012:

Just shy of 4 weeks since I began this journey, today was the first day I could really see the progress! Proving that it takes TIME and dedication to making these kinds of changes in your life.

Personal Stats:

-Exercising 5-6 days a week. Equal parts cardio and strength training.
-Drinking at least 100 ounces of water daily.
-Can consistently run an 11 minute mile.
-Can run 30 minutes without stopping; a 15 minute improvement since 4/9/12.
-Weighed-in at 132 lbs!!! Lost two pounds!

MAY 6, 2012:

-Have been having a lot of difficulty getting the chance to work-out regularly. Trying to make up for this by being even more serious about eating good. Life with three kids really requires balance.

JANUARY 16, 2013

I've started and saved this post for almost a year now and I am SO glad I did. It feels so good to go back and see where I started to where I am now. Especially after it taking so long to even get my body back to normal after having my third baby. That was a challenge in and of itself. The last pictures that I have posted above were of me when I finally felt like I was in that pre-baby body again. I stayed pretty much looking like that and maintaining my weight until the beginning of December. That was when I realized I was being really complacent. I was letting all of my responsibilities overwhelm me and I put myself on the back-burner big time. I thought that since that number on the scale was something I could live with, then that was good enough. And you know what? It wasn't. It wasn't good enough, because that number on the scale doesn't make you healthy. The way you treat your body and what you fuel it with is what makes it healthy. "Skinny" does not equal healthy. I finally decided no more!!! I love being healthy, I love exercising, I love being strong. If you love something that much, you find the time for it...no excuses! So I started taking the time for myself, taking the time to become a better me. That was December 11th, 2012. I am now just over a month into this and I like to believe my current photos speak for themselves. I have gained 2 pounds, have gained 2 inches in my waist, but have not ever felt so good in my life. The most important part about this is that I haven't put myself on any kind of diet. I eat healthy, make good choices, and indulge responsibly. That's all it takes.

Personal Stats:
- 5'4" 126 lbs
-Exercising 6 days a week.
-Can now run over an hour at a time.
-Clean-eating! Around six meals a day.

 The difference between healthy and unhealthy.

Also the reason why you should never obsess over a scale.

 I weigh 2 pounds more in the left picture.

Your weight is just a number. Your confidence and the way you feel is what says it all.

January 22, 2012

Back in December, about three weeks into really pushing hard, I bought my first EVER pair of skinny jeans. This was kind of a big deal for me, because even before I had children, my boo-tay just wasn't having a pair of skinny jeans go over it. Today I put those jeans on and about a month later, they're too BIG! I've gained another pound too, so trust me, it's not a "skinny" thing. 

MAY 27, 2013:

This is the day I finally complete this journal. It has been a very long 14 months and the amount I have learned is more than could ever be typed into one single blog post. For consistencies sake, I will list where I am at now and what I do for myself on a regular basis...

Personal Stats:

- 5'4" 130 lbs

-Exercising 6 days a week (strictly weight and strength training)

-Have completely eliminated all "cardio" (ie; treadmill, elliptical, etc...)

-6 small, complete, meals a day. 

As I reach the end of this experience, I feel enlightened. I have developed such a healthy relationship with food, as well as my body, and have found a real passion. Someday this will be what I do. I will show people, through example, how nutrition and fitness can transform who you are. Your whole you, not just what people see in the mirror. It's not an easy road. Learning what works for your body and how to completely understand the things you are putting into your body, it takes time. I have recently gone from 125 lbs and a size 3 pant to 130 lbs and a size 5 pant. (Generally, I don't weigh myself at all. It's kind of a "thing" of mine. When my shorts were doing anything BUT fitting, I got curious...lol.) Most woman would go in a tailspin over such a drastic change. All I've come to know over the past 14 months has allowed me to become excited about those changes. Because I know I am becoming a stronger, healthier, version of myself. I cut cardio from my exercise routine when I stopped enjoying the act of it. If I wasn't enjoying myself, I found no reason to be unhappy while exercising. I've researched food, have found a nemesis in processed sugars, and have begun a love affair with all-natural, from scratch cooking. It's become a new life for me.

 I mentioned earlier that I cut "cardio" from my exercise regime. The other reason I did this was because my body changed in a way that I didn't like.  I was losing my "lady curves" and I enjoy how I feel and look with a little more "va-voom". Which is the beautiful thing about all of this. You're here to create the best version of yourself. Who that person is, is completely up to you. There are no guidelines for the human form. I believe in some way, that all of us know who and how we want to be. That person sometimes hides deep and can, at times, be elusive. But they're there. Waiting for you to find them.

I feel the need to end this with a little inspiration for any who may be reading this that are struggling with their body image...

You're worth it.

Don't wait to transform who you are. Start yesterday.

A Modern Day Laura Ingalls.

Once upon a time there was a little girl. This little girl was enchanted with the world she found herself transported to every time she watched a show called "The Little House on the Prairie". So much so, she decided that if one day she were to have a daughter of her own, she would name her after an Ingall.

And so she did.

And here I am.

I never watched the show that my namesake came from. It was much too hunky dory for my taste. As I grew older though, I found myself enthralled with who I thought the real Laura Jean Ingalls Wilder was. The little girl who I read about in my books, who carried me back in time and inspired me with her simple and peaceful way of life. It was actually in one of her stories where I first became obsessed with food and learning how to cook. I can still vividly recall the scene from Little House in the Big Woods (which still sits on my bookshelf to this day) where her Pa brings home a pig and she depicts the smoking of the meat in a smokehouse made out of a hollow tree. Their world mesmerized me.

As I grew older, the world became a little harsher. It became a little harder with each passing year to grasp onto those ideals that I clung to as a small girl reading her Laura Ingalls Wilder stories under her sheets with a flashlight. My mother would still tease me and call me her "little hippie child", but that part of me was slowly fading. I still had dreams, I still had passions, but I was never able to grab at any of them, to see where I could run with them.

There was this one dream that I had though.

I suppose it was the single, solitary dream I still clung to from my stories; to live and love simply.

I've had that dream for going on seven years now.

There was this tiny problem though. I was so busy concerning myself over all of those other dreams that never happened, that I wasn't embracing the one that did. Each passing day I would belittle myself, because I hadn't finished college, hadn't gotten to run that marathon, that I wasn't out there making big, wonderful changes in the world. To put it frankly, I wasn't doing myself any favors. I wasn't being honest with myself or the path that I had chosen for my life. It was time for me to sit down and think about who I was right now in this moment. What kind of woman did I want to be? What dreams did I have that were within my reach? Every time I did that, I found myself thinking of that little house in those big woods. With the warmth of a fire filled with wood gathered by hand. With a table filled with food that had all been picked or grown or hunted for. With a home filled to bursting with a love so pure that it makes your heart hurt.

I would think of that and I would know which dream I could achieve.

So I am starting on the journey of a modern day Laura Jean Ingalls, so to speak. I will cook/bake what I can from scratch. I will restrict the television and the electronics. I will encourage reading. I will teach my children about the world, about food, about history, about nature, about hard work, about everything beautiful that surrounds us. I will encourage questions. I will minimize. I will prioritize. I will embrace every moment as it is given to me.

And I will achieve the very first dream that I never allowed myself to have.

To live simply.
To love fully.
To embrace peace.

With that, I will shed the skin of the person who I became when I lost that little wide-eyed girl with her nose in her book.

I will create my own little house.

My Little House in the Big City.

The Open Window.

The sparkling of dawn,

Shone through open windows.

Deep breath and closed eyes greet the breeze,

As it winds it's way around my soul,

Drifting out again to meet the day.

I stride away from the warmth of a new sun,

To find the breeze had gifted me,

A spirit that had been washed away.

I could feel the change,

I could sense the spark.

I felt the shift of self.

I had met a moment,

When that breeze had drifted gone,

It took with it a heavy piece,

That I had carried far too long.

The freshness of the air,

Still lingers in my heart,

The remembrance of beginning,

The stitching of worlds once torn apart.

That sparkling of dawn,

Shared with me a new day,

And I with it,

A new understanding,

A woman who had finally realized her way.

The Point of It All.

Initially as I began to write this, I wasn't even sure what it would be about. There are so many things swirling around my brain lately, that to choose one I thought would prove difficult. We've moved, my husband started a new job, our lives are drastically different, etc... A plethora of good writing/venting material to say the least. As I sat here, staring at the blank screen, it dawned on me...

The only reason that any of those things have happened...

The only reason the multitude of changes has been such an easy transition...

The only reason I am able to bear the long hours (days) alone...

The only reason I haven't allowed my children to drive me absolutely mad yet...

That reason? My husband.

Simply put, my marriage as a whole.

I'll go ahead and brag a little bit, saying I do believe I found myself a truly genuine man. Some one who works harder than any one I know, with nary a complaint. Who is one of the most amazing fathers I have ever seen in action, dropping to the floor the instant he gets home from a 12-hour shift, just to wrestle with his sons. Who (almost) never bites back, when his wife is in a "sassy" mood, but instead understands that she has had just as hectic of a day as he has. A man who I could write endlessly about.

This is the man I knew I was marrying 5 1/2 years ago. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on him the day we met. I could tell that no matter what happened, what we would go through, that this man would always show up. All too often, people in relationships run when things get hard. They hide instead of trusting their partner with their opinions, their emotions. I knew that he would never do that. That girl that first met him 7 years ago had found a miracle in him. A miracle that I thank God for every day.

What each of us brings to the marriage table, is what makes all of these new stresses so much easier to bear. It's what allows me to keep in perspective the late nights at work, the meetings on his days off, the fact that sometimes those days off are 8-9 days apart. I remind myself that we asked for this opportunity, waited entirely too long for it. That even when I'm having rough days at home, he would much rather be there with me, elbow-deep in diaper duty. And in those moments where I feel as though there isn't much more I can handle, I remember he's finally in a place that he deserves. A place where he has finally had the opportunity to shine, to show people what he is truly capable of. To show them the hard-working man that so many other people foolishly overlooked. When I remind myself of that, I remind myself that it's my husbands turn and he makes me so proud that all of the other worries I have pale in comparison.

Many friends of mine have come to me for marriage advice in the past. I am almost always surprised when they do, because no marriage is perfect and for them to see something in ours that would make them comfortable enough to ask for advice, is humbling. The biggest thing that I always come back to when I'm overwhelmed, stressed, defeated, etc... is that no matter what it is, I'll be okay as long as I have the covenant I made with my husband to fall back on. That's what marriage is. It's the knowing that even though it won't always be easy, you can trust in the fact that your partner is willing to work just as hard as you will to fix the issues. That you can find in them someone who strives to make what you have together better, stronger, than it was the day before. That they are the person who inspires you to be more. Not only for them or for your marriage, but for yourself. That's the big one. I've met many wonderful men in my life, had very serious relationships with some of them. Not a one of them worked out. Not because they weren't good people, not because I didn't care for them, but because we didn't inspire each other to become better people.

I guess that's what this post boils down to...

That yes, I have awesome new things to talk about...
That yes, I have a multitude of mommy stress to discuss...
That yes, I have had some womanhood issues lately...

But that none of it, the good or the bad, the easy or the hard, is the point.

The fact that the good is beyond-words good...
That the hard is never-before-experienced hard...
That fact that there is this jumble of new everything and I haven't fainted from elation or gone entirely bonkers?

That's because of my husband, my marriage.

And that, my friends, is the point of it all.