My Babies Totally Don't Get It

Everyone has those moments in life. When you have reached adulthood and you suddenly freeze because you realize you just did something that was EXACTLY like one of your parents. For some people this causes them to shudder and essentially freak out, but thankfully not for me. I never set out to purposefully not turn into my parents. They’re pretty amazing people. Many of the things I learned from having them as my parents were very easy to engrain into my own life because they are simply fundamental. Unconditional love, making family a priority, the importance of quality time and all that good mushy stuff just naturally came out of living life as their kid. 

A lot of the things they tried to teach me totally made sense, such as kindness and respect. Other things I didn’t quite comprehend because they were adults and I was just a kid. I remember I never understood my dad’s tradition of making my brother and I give him a little peck on the cheek if we wanted something. I would come bounding into the room blurting out a request and before he would start to get up from his chair he would just barely lean his cheek toward me and slowly reach up one finger to tap the side of his face. He didn't even have to say anything because we knew what he meant. In our childhood impatience we would sigh, run over and give him a quick kiss and then start bouncing again while we asked if NOW he would complete our request. Nearly every time we directly asked him for something, to get the sprinkler out or to have a snack, without fail he would just tap his cheek and we knew. I remember completely not understanding how in the world a kiss on the cheek from me could be payment for spending two hours chasing us around the yard with the hose while we hooted and giggled. 

As the kid, I didn’t understand it. Now, I do. 

This time I’m the parent. Once my daughter reached an age in which she knew and understood what kisses were, I caught myself doing the exact same thing my dad had done so many years ago. My little girl came sprinting over to me to ask if we could play with bubbles, and without even thinking I smirked at her, raised my finger up to my cheek and pointed. The moment my finger hit my cheek I paused and thought, wow, like father like daughter. In the case of continuing super sweet and simple family traditions, I was choosing to have my apple not fall far from the tree. As Grace stared at me with a very confused look on her face, I prompted her again with another tap to my cheek and said, “a kiss please”. She saw this as the quickest way to get what she wanted so she obliged and went on her way. She totally didn’t get it. But suddenly, I knew why my dad had done that for all those years.

Getting kisses on the cheek from your kids is pretty much the sweetest thing in the world. You spend what feels like forever with this baby that you love SO MUCH and the baby literally can’t do anything except eat, poop, and sleep. And then, one day that kid can magically give you a kiss and somehow your heart is filled to the brim just by feeling their little wet lips on your cheek. It’s the best.

So, I have continued my dad’s tradition with Grace and then even passed it on to Emmett when he got old enough. He has caught on to the point where he even includes the kiss in his request. “Hey MomMom can you get my down from this slide? I give you kiiiisss!” And obviously, sometimes they are just not up for my silly requests to get kisses on the cheek. And that’s ok. I’ll never force them to do it, but if they’re in a happy mood I want them to know how much I cherish their affection. 

Dad, I get it now. And I know now that you didn't need the kisses in order to motivate you to do those fun things for us (like chase us around the yard with the hose). You did it because you wanted to. And you asked for those sweet little kisses from your kids because you wanted those too. I promise Dad, I'll never be too old to give you a kiss on the cheek. All you have to do is ask. 

Blessings,

Shantastic 

I took this photo a couple months ago when my husband had gone out of town and my mom came up to visit. I’m pretty sure she would agree that Emmett gives some of the best cheek kisses in the entire world. I mean, look at those puckered lips. You definitely can never say anything bad about his level of commitment when it comes to kisses on the cheek. 

My Baby Almost Broke my Toe

When people see Grace and me in public, they often chuckle as they ask me, “Is she always so energetic?” I can tell they are assuming that she must just be in an exceptionally good mood or particularly excited about the current events, but I always smile back and raise my eyebrows as I say, “Yes. Yes she is…always.” There are times when it really is so endearing. She'll be trying to tell me a story and she has to pace around in a circle (just like her dad) while her hands fly in the air giving life to her creative retelling of that day’s events (that part’s all me). Those are the times when I don't mind her source of boundless energy. I try to let those memories sink into my heart so that I'll have something to grab onto when her inability to stand still starts to wear on me.

As I mentioned last week, I just came home from a glorious, quiet, and STILL vacation. After having a week away from my kids, I knew I would have to spend some time rebuilding my tolerance level for certain things. The noise, the endless questions, and the never-ceasing movement. These things are largely just part of the deal. Kids are loud, they ask 100 million more questions than you want them to, and they’re always moving. However, with my daughter I sometimes feel like perhaps she was given an extra dose of noise, movement, and an overall zest for life. She’s the kind of person who runs around the living room doing laps and screaming, “MOM BOUGHT ME NEW TOOOOOOOTHPASTE!!” …So you see my struggle right? On the one hand I’m like, wow, what a gift it is to be so genuinely happy about the tiniest little thing. And the other half of me is frantically waving my arms in the air to try and get her attention and tell her to bring it down a notch. 

Shortly after we returned from our trip it was time step back into the normal routines of our lives. My husband headed off to work and I stared down at my little munchkins and realized there would likely be very little reading and crocheting that day. Since it was my first day “back at work”, how do you think my children were choosing to behave? Mmm. Yes. Lots of screaming, crying and me having to yell just so they could hear my voice above their own. I had decided the night before that we would go do something fun (brand new park complete with splash pad) so as they were attempting to upset the other in any way humanly possible, I was trying to shuffle them out the door. 

As we were finishing up getting ready, I finally convinced Grace that she needed to meet me in my bathroom so that I could put her hair into a ponytail. She (of course) shot away from me like a bullet, propelled herself into my room and then rounded the corner to throw herself into the bathroom. I followed quickly behind her and was planning on shutting us both in the bathroom. I knew that if I didn’t do this she would undoubtedly take off flying down the hallway the second I picked up the brush (remember, boundless energy). I turned into the doorway of the bathroom at the exact moment she decided that I must not have made it there fast enough and she would make her grand escape right then and there. As her shoe slammed into my toes I gasped for breath as I felt the crushing blow of a toenail completely breaking off. I instinctively threw my arms out onto my bed and stood there trying to breathe as the pain shot through my entire foot. I could hear her behind me shouting “SorrySorrySorry!!” which for some reason just made me even more annoyed. I could feel my patience completely shatter as I let out a guttural “UGHHHHHH!” up into the air. That obviously wasn’t a smart move because it released more emotions than I intended, and before I could stop myself I turned to her and said very sternly, “NO RUNNING IN THE HOUSE!” I felt regret smack me in the chest before I had even finished. I immediately starting walking towards her as her face succumbed to the tears and pain she felt for hurting me. I told her I was sorry for raising my voice but she didn’t hear me. She threw her head up towards the ceiling and cried out, “I don’t want you to be mad at meeee.” I dropped down to her level and gently laid my hands on her shoulders. I waited a moment for her to look into my eyes and said, “Sweetie, I’m sorry I yelled. I’m not mad at you.” We hugged it out and like many kids, she recovered quickly by drawing in huge gusts of air and asking to see my ‘really bad owie.” I let her watch as I carefully cleaned my wound and then we both walked out of the bathroom together. 

About ten minutes later she was standing next to me while I changed my son’s diaper. As I finished helping him to his feet, I kept hold of his hands and slowly pulled him towards me for a hug. He obliged and I soon felt Grace’s arms swoop around both of us. She laid her head on Emmett’s shoulder and the three of us stood there silently enjoying each other’s embrace. Eventually, I giggled and whispered, “My babies.” and she replied, “Best mommy in the whole world.” My heart immediately twinged with pain because I thought, I don’t deserve that. I was clearly being a B- mom that day with my lack of patience and emotional outburst. 

But she said what she felt. She was choosing to see the best in me, to let the good outweigh the bad. 

None of us are perfect. We’re all just trying to be the best moms (and dads) we can for our kids. Somehow, at such a young age, my beautiful little girl can see that even though I make mistakes, I really am trying to be what she needs me to be. 

I’m going to choose to celebrate how she can find so much joy in such a small thing like a new tube of toothpaste. 

Here’s to trying to teach her to be the kind of person who can run and bounce throughout her life WITHOUT accidentally hurting people, and to not totally losing my cool when she (inevitably) loses control. 

And hey, toenails grow back, right? 

Blessings,

Shantastic

My Babies' Dad is on a Balance Beam

10 years. 10 years of marriage…I apologize if I get a bit over-emotional (unfortunately that’s just a symptom of being Shantastic) but every prayer and hope I had for my life came true the day I met him.

On paper we are so different, but together we are a beautiful balancing act. We all strive to have our life be somewhat in balance right? A healthy balance of work and rest, a mixture of not just telling our kids to love each other and be respectful but actually showing them through our actions. From the day we met we have been walking on the balance beam of life together. Sometimes it’s been easy, wide enough for us both to walk together hand-in-hand. Other seasons we have had to help lead the other through difficult times, and continue to encourage each other when one of us would sink down in defeat. In the darkest of times, we have even had to take turns carrying each other on our backs. Never giving up. Always persisting. 

Just like life, our walk together is always changing. Sure, we have days and seasons where it feels like the movies. My heart leaps when I see his car pull into the driveway, my emotions swell when he tells me I look beautiful. But we have our challenges just like everyone else too. I annoy him endlessly with my day-old coffee that I leave sitting on the counter. He drives me crazy when he drinks all the orange juice in one sitting. But through every trial, every hard situation, when one of us is totally losin' it and about to have a mental breakdown, we balance. 

We’ve been operating like this since we first started dating, but it has obviously been tested more since having our children. Of course, we are always trying to be the best versions of ourselves for our kids, to try and teach them how to be caring people who treat others with respect. But recently, I dropped the ball in regards to our son. At first it may not seem like that big of a deal, but to me, it was. It happened a few months ago…and it all started with my son’s eyes. Those eyes. No, please don’t start filling up with tears I thought. Those bright baby blues fill up so stinkin' fast. Just as I was about to extend my arms and wrap my sad little boy in the biggest, bestest, mommy embrace, my husband ran between us and scooped Emmett out of my reach. As my gaze followed Emmett who was now full-on back arching trying to reach me, I made eye contact with my husband. Catching his very intent stare finally snapped me back to reality and I realized, I had almost done it again. I was about to let Emmett completely get away with misbehaving, just because he had started crying and trying to hug me. I had been going too easy on him lately (because, those eyes). I had been letting him get out of being in trouble because I would rather just hug him instead. It was creating a not-so-good pattern for him and I had been in denial about it.

This time his offense was a pretty big thing and my husband was not about to let it go ignored. Emmett hit me on the arm (really it was more like an assertive slap…but still, something had to be done, right?). I instinctively shot Emmett a look of disapproval and when I raised my voice just one level above normal, his eyes became a thunderstorm and his words of apology came pouring out. I had told him that he needed to go sit for a time-out. He hates time-outs almost as much as I hate disciplining him. It’s hard to follow through and discipline someone who just immediately starts sobbing a barely audible “Sahhhheeeee” while he’s trying to go in for a hug. So, when Emmett slapped my arm and I went to save him from his consequence, my husband was ready to stand in the gap. I tried defending myself because, of course, I didn’t want to admit that I was wrong. I blurted, “But I think he feels really bad about it!” He responded quietly and calmly by saying, “Babe, you can’t be the rescuer.” 

He was right. I had been creating a habit of being the rescuer, and my son’s behavior was steadily showing the proof of that. Emmett had just booked himself a ticket to “Time-Out Land” and he had to go. If I would have just hugged him right away, would he have really gotten the concept? Would the reality of his bad choice really sunk in? Or was he just reacting to being in trouble and saying sorry to get out of a time-out?  My husband knew that in this moment, Emmett needed to experience a real consequence. My sweet little boy had been testing the boundaries more lately, and he needed to know that this was not something we would allow. Discipline had to happen, and I couldn’t rescue him from it.

After a short stay in “Time-Out Land”, I walked over to my baby and gently laid his hand on my cheek. Without any prompting he whimpered, “Sahhee MomMom”. I scooped him up into my lap and told him I forgave him. Even though following through with his time-out made me want to cry right along with him, it was what had to happen. That night was the first -and only- time he has ever hit me. He learned.

When I was getting lazy on my balance beam of life and choosing the option that required less work, my husband gently reminded me that what is right is not always easy. This wasn’t the biggest failure I’ve ever had, the Lord knows I’ve made much bigger mistakes in my life! But still, my husband was there to counter for me. Just like he has been every single day for the last 10 years. 

So today, I’m celebrating that. 10 years of friendship, partnership, and never giving up.

Blessings,

Shantastic

P.S. Babe, I ordered you that comforter from Sleep Number that you really wanted. Don’t worry, it was on sale :) Happy Anniversary my love!

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Lastly, this photo makes my over-emotional sappy little self squeal because my husband is reading to my kids from the Beginner’s Bible that my Great-Grandma gave me. I read that book every night as a kid. I almost dropped the coffee pot trying to scramble over there and catch a photo with my phone before anyone wiggled away. Grace sat there with him for over 20 minutes. And my heart could barely even stand it. 

My Baby Has a Mickey Mouse Chair

Tick Tock. The seconds pass. Minutes fly by in a blur. The last four and a half years have whizzed by as my daughter, Grace, has barreled her way through each passing day. In the fall her future includes a year of preschool, and then in 2018…she will be gone. She’ll nosedive out of my nest, wings ablaze, and probably won’t even need to say goodbye as she runs into her Kindergarten classroom. She’s amazing. As school has begun to feel more like a concrete certainty and less like some elusive thing “off in the future”, I started to reflect on how I will feel about the years I got to have her home with me. Will I wish for more days? Will I have any regrets about how I spent my time with her? 

The moment the word regret popped into my mind, I flashed back to the days when I had been trying to get work done in my office and shushed her to be quiet. As I mentioned in a previous post ---> "My Babies Swallowed Me,"  I run a small business from home. My office is my sacred space that is devoted to doing work I love. It nourishes my introverted heart and mind. To be able to put my kids down for their naps and have that little bit of time to pour into something creative feeds my soul. But, when Grace stopped napping, I had to transition her into doing a “quiet time” in her room. Then around the time when she celebrated her fourth birthday, I began hearing footsteps outside my sanctuary and a gentle knock on the door asking me if quiet time was over. So, one afternoon in a moment of desperation, I went into the playroom and dragged her child-sized Mickey Mouse table into my office. I knew that since I had just closed to door to her room for quiet time, she would inevitably come peeking out about 12 minutes later. 

Insisting that she go back to her room could have been an option. But I didn’t want our days together to be spent with me yelling at her to go back into her room until she cried (because that had already happened a couple times). I realized that this was just part of the deal. She was growing up and I needed to figure out a way to evolve. The afternoon when I dragged her table into my office was a day when I absolutely needed to get some work done. I figured she could play with some puzzles or color a picture while I met my deadlines. Sure enough, less than 20 minutes after her quiet time had started, she poked her head around the corner and saw her table in my office. She exploded like a firework in July. “MOMMY!! Did you put my Mickey Mouse table in your office?” Then the bouncing started as she screamed, “Can I work in your office with you?” I figured she was so excited just because I had finally allowed her into a once-forbidden space. She was elated. And so our new phase began where I had a four-year-old coworker by my side. 

I tried to be as welcoming as I could. Some days I had it in me to swallow my own desires of having a child-free moment and some days I really struggled. I tried to make sure to remember to set out different activities for her to do, but there were many moments where I had to shush her and remind her that Mommy needed to get her work done. Sometimes I resorted to letting her watch Netflix on my Kindle and, of course, felt guilty about it.

So when the idea of regrets began floating around in my head, I wondered if that time spent in my office would evolve into being a full blown regret of mine. Should I have played with her more? Should I have figured out a different way to get my work done? In my more anxious moments, I felt my heart sink as I worried that those afternoons in my office of me telling her to stop talking would be the only thing she would remember from our years together. As my busy season wrapped up, I thanked God that my work has times in the year when it halts. I also prayed and asked God to redeem the time that I felt had been lost. I wanted this next season of life to be full of awesome moments that she would remember forever. I wanted her to forget the office days. 

So when I officially finished my busy season, I was the one bouncing this time. I couldn’t wait to spend these afternoons with her while her brother napped. We were going to make cookies, play games, and I wasn’t going to be weighed down with mommy guilt anymore. I was going to be super awesome fun mommy now. As she timidly raised her eyebrows and asked if quiet time was over I replied, “Yes! And guess what!! We’re going to make chocolate chip cookies today!!” She immediately jumped back with a look of confusion on her face. “What? NO. I don’t want to do that Mom.’ She said definitively. “Oh. Ok..” I said surprisingly. I quickly tried to think of a fun activity that I normally didn’t want to take the time to do. “OH what about painting? Do you want to paint with me?” “No” she responded. I tilted my head and asked her, “Really? Ok..what do you want to do?” She took no pause as she declared. “Mom. I WANT to go work in your office with you.” I just stood there, dumbfounded. “You want to go work in my office?” She shook her head yes. I was still stunned as I asked, “You…like working in my office with me?” “Yes Mom! Come on! Let’s go!” And she took off skipping down the hallway. 

She loved it. She loved working in my office with me. When I moved her table into my office, to me it was just a kid-sized desk that was now taking up space in my precious haven. But to her, I was opening up a piece of myself and inviting her into it. My office, which had once been deemed as a “childless space” now had a reserved spot just for her. Not her brother, not my husband. It’s our time for just us. I had no idea she viewed it that way. God answered my prayers for redemption even more completely than I ever anticipated. I wanted him to redeem our future, but He went a step further and redeemed our past. 

Even though I still find myself craving my own quiet time in my office, I just know the day when she heads off to school I’ll sit in my office weeping at the sight of that stupid, empty, Mickey Mouse chair. She loves sitting in that chair. And I had no idea. 

If you’re like me and you tend to be a bit too hard on yourself, just breathe. You’re probably doing better than you thought you were. 

Blessings,

Shantastic

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Have you ever had a moment similar to this? Perhaps when you felt like a lazy parent for letting your kid eat macaroni and cheese with cut up hot dogs and then found out it was her favorite meal she’s ever had?? Let’s hear it! Comment below or find me on Instagram @TotallyShantastic !!

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My Baby's Pants are on Fire

I’m not a morning person. I’m a coffee person. But somehow, half of my DNA has created a little being who is an all day person. She’s a morning, afternoon, evening, and night person. How she is able to literally bounce through her entire day, I’ll never understand. One morning a few months ago I was (very groggily) loading the washing machine with a load of my son’s clothes. We were at that desperate point where if he spilled anything on his current shirt he would be borrowing something of his sister’s (and probably walking around in a pink unicorn dress for the rest of the day.) So, I was tired and distracted by my current task. As my head was shoved part-way in the washing machine, I heard my daughter come jumping around the corner and ask in an excruciatingly loud voice if she could have a cookie from the container on the counter. 

“No, you may not have a cookie right now. We don’t eat cookies for breakfast.” I robotically answered back. We don’t eat cookies for breakfast. Based on my mothering for the last four-and-a-half years, what would possess you to think that I would let you have a cookie for breakfast?? Kids. Ever-so hopeful. After I calmly recited my answer to her, I assumed she had skipped off into the living room to twirl, jump, and dive off the couch like usual. 

I finally finished loading up the washer and as I turned back around towards the kitchen, I instinctively glanced at the counter where I had left the cookie container. For a few seconds I just stared at the EMPTY spot on the counter and tried not to start fuming from my ears. The container was now most definitely not on the counter where it should have been. OH Mommy was awake now. Apparently cookie thievery works better than coffee to wake a person up. However, I didn’t want a crazed mommy monster to attack her with parental rage, so I first paused for a second and tried to steady my breathing. Then I took off marching through the kitchen until I rounded the corner of the living room. There before my eyes was my two-year-old standing over an open container of cookies and gathering them up in his hands. My eyes darted over to the stairs and I saw my daughter sprinting up to her room with a small mountain of cookies cradled in her shirt. 

I miraculously stayed calm as I asked her what she was doing. Her response turned into a ten minute interrogation of her full out LYING to me about having a secret cookie snack. (She even tried to blame it on her brother which could be a whole other post) As I stared in disbelief at her insistence on sticking to her lie, of course, disappointment flashed through my mind. But I also felt a tinge of guilt. Had she somehow learned this behavior from me? What had I done in my parenting techniques to make her think this was ok?

My mind immediately went to the thought that she must have learned this behavior from me because the concept of modeling was fresh in my mind. I had just recently learned a life-changing lesson when I had the flu. First of all, I learned that the flu sucks (totally). But, as Grace was so tenderly taking care of me, I sent one of my friends a picture of it all. It was so endearing. She laid out a blanket and a pillow on the couch and even brought her favorite stuffed animals downstairs to keep me company. She topped off the cuteness by making sure I had a glass of water next to me. My friend texted back and said “She is modeling how well YOU take care of her!” ..YES! My heart soared even though my body just wanted to sink into the couch and never move again. 

Yes, some of her traits are things that she has learned from my modeling and some of them have been learned from other people. But why is it that whenever she displays a characteristic that is…undesirable, I immediately take the blame and assume I have somehow failed her? In the same way that I can’t take the credit for everything awesome about her, I also shouldn’t take the blame when she is working through something hard. I hear the “mommy guilt” thing joked about all the time, and I know that it is something that a lot of moms (and dads) do. Myself included. I also know that mommy guilt is not productive or life-giving. So, with that knowledge, why do I see her lying about eating cookies and immediately feel like it’s my fault? I’ve never modeled how to eat cookies for breakfast and lie about it, but ok, I guess she’s gonna try it anyways! She is her own unique person. And I’m doing the best I can. It’s my job to help her work through these tough situations and not waste time blaming myself for it. Here’s to hoping I can walk alongside her in this journey towards truth-telling, and here’s to having hope that she will no longer be a liar liar with her pants on fire. 

Also…Note to self: Store the cookies in the pantry. Out of sight, out of reaching distance for her to steal them, lie about it, and blame her little brother. 

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Has your kid gone through a lying phase? How did you handle it? Did your kid get caught with her hand in the cookie jar too? :) 

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Blessings,

Shantastic

I know my baby.

As we were driving home from church a few weeks ago, my son said from the backseat, “Hey MomMom. I was crying in nursery. Can you say why?” The first thing I thought was, Ok, that was a very mature sentence for a two-year-old. Then I answered back to him, “Why Bub?” He paused then said, “I was crying about you.” …My heart dropped and I flashed back to the tear-streaked moment when I dropped him off in the nursery that morning. I tried to sound totally calm (and not choked up) as I replied, “Oh… because I left you in the nursery?” He answered back matter-of-factly ‘Yeah. You leave and I crying…Sorry MomMom.”

I had to figure this out. We had just spent the last three weeks with me having to stay in the nursery the entire service because he was too scared to be left in there on his own. I figured he just needed to get familiar with the room, so if I had to stay in there a few times, that wasn’t the end of the world. However, I prayed the day would come when I would get to once again resume sitting through a church service without my child crying for me to come save him. The day when he apologized to me for crying was the day I had tried the “ditch and run” in a desperate attempt to get him to see that the nursery was a totally fun place even when mommy wasn’t there. As you know from my previous paragraph, it didn't go so well. 

A week went by and and inevitably, it was Sunday again. This time I tried prepping him a bit more during breakfast. I asked him questions about the nursery and talked about the helpers who are his “friends”. I even pulled up an episode of Daniel Tiger singing the “Grownups Come Back” song. We sang it together and as he nodded his head along to the tune I thought, Oh I hope he is getting this. I so hope he is getting this. 

We walked into church with his hand in mine, and as soon as we neared the corner for the nursery he threw himself behind my legs and began crying. I could tell this was not a show he was putting on. This was not a fake cry. He was committed and he wasn’t going to give up. I smiled at the nursery staff and quietly walked in with him. As we slowly strolled around looking at the toys, I kept trying to peel him off me and get him interested in playing with something. After a few minutes, one of the volunteers came over to me and very kindly said, “Would you like me to just scoop him up so you can leave?” It was a very sweet gesture, and as I smiled at her I said, “Thank you for offering, but I think it will work best for him if I just take it slow and let him ease into it.”

It ended up taking about 20 minutes before he finally started to venture a few feet away from me. Every time he took a step away from me I took a step closer to the door. I made eye contact with one of the volunteers and mouthed “If he cries for more than five minutes you can page me”. I then followed with a thumbs up and made my great escape out the door. I told myself I had to walk away and go sit in the service. He would be fine. They would page me if he needed me. 

Minutes passed and I slowly started to relax in my seat. As the final song wrapped up, I couldn’t deny that I was excited to be reunited with my boy. When the check-in volunteer brought him out to me, his face lit up and I swear I even saw pride in his eyes. He had made it through and he knew it. The second he was close enough to me, he launched himself into my arms and began babbling about what he had played with and who he had talked to. As we turned to leave, the woman who had offered to help scoop him up pointed at me and said, “Now that’s a mom who knows her son.” I froze for a second and then flashed her a huge smile. For the next few hours her words kept resonating in my mind. I couldn’t quite figure out why it had made me feel so happy. As I continued to reflect on her words of affirmation I finally realized…it was touching me so much because it was one of the best compliments I've ever received. 

To know someone, truly know them, is a beautiful thing. From the moment my babies were born, I have given everything I am to learn who they are. God has created two completely different children for me to raise. I want to know what makes them laugh so I can delight in their giggles. I want to learn what makes them feel safe so I can provide security for them. 

I want to know them so I can be the mom they need me to be. My daughter ran into the nursery on her own the very first day and didn’t even say goodbye to me. She didn’t need me in that way. Emmett did. 

But most importantly, above all else, I want to know them so that I can teach them about God in a way that will connect with their own extraordinary heart. Because that, right there, is everything. They will each have unique ways in which they feel God’s presence and they will have their own individual passions that God has given them. I want to know my children so I can connect with their heart. For this woman to spend 20 minutes with me and Emmett and walk away from that saying, “That’s a mom who knows her son,” …that’s everything to me. 

Everything I have been trying to do from the moment he was born…is know him. 

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Have you had a child who struggled with separation anxiety? Got any tips for me because I'm sure this won't be the last time he has a cryfest about me leaving him somewhere haha! 

Respond using the comment section below OR find me on Instagram @TotallyShantastic and comment there!

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Blessings,

Shantastic

My Baby is totally a control freak

Date day. That positively glorious moment in time where someone else watches your children so you can have an uninterrupted conversation with your spouse. It’s simply… beautiful. 

A few weeks ago, Seth and I were enjoying one of these miracle days. And to top it off we were doing one my favorite things in the world. Exploring. We had just gotten coffee from a place I had never heard of and as we casually strolled the busy blocks to our next destination, we got to talk to each other. Like actually have an intelligent conversation talk. Sure, we try talking to each other all the time but our two little beings like to make it nearly impossible. Many times our more important conversations have to wait until the kids are in bed for the night. My anecdotes and bits that I think are super clever get interrupted so many times that it’s no longer amusing anymore at all. (Or maybe they were never amusing to begin with…either way, there’s interruption. And that’s annoying) So on this particular date, we got to talk in the MIDDLE OF THE DAY. <magical birds begin chirping and light piano music plays softly in the background>

As we walked and sipped, I can’t remember exactly what I was saying but I was telling some funny story (probably hilarious) about how my daughter is EXACTLY like my husband. Their similarities are so loud and obvious that it’s easy to point them out. He always chuckles and shakes his head because he knows he can’t deny my accusations. 

When I thought about having kids, I naively assumed they would be like me. Even though I know how DNA works, I somehow completely forgot to include my husband into this equation. I think that was partially why I was so surprised by my firstborn aka the most extroverted person I’ve ever met. No, I do not want to talk to every single stranger in the grocery store about your birthday party from FIVE months ago. Seriously, how are you my kid? Grocery stores are for staring at your list and NOT talking to complete strangers. 

But then, right as I thought my jokes to my husband were going to go without rebuttal, he teasingly turned his head toward me and said with a smirk, “You know, you’re always joking about how Grace is exactly like me…but I’m not stubborn, and she is. So where could she have gotten that from, hmm?” I froze in mid-stride in the middle of the sidewalk and just gawked at him with complete surprise. But, as the realization that he was right began to formulate in my brain, my face morphed into a scoffing display of “Well…uhhh. Yeah SO!” After a few more seconds I was able to produce a sentence that said something like, “Well… I can’t really deny that statement because then it will just prove your point that I AM stubborn.” I can’t be stubborn about admitting the fact that I’m stubborn. Dang it. 

After my husband knew he had gotten me, he continued to laugh and said, “You two are more alike than you realize.” I tilted my head as I let that idea slosh around in my brain. Wait a second. Is that why we are always butting heads on everything?? I thought it was because she’s just SO darn particular about EVERY little thing that it drove me nuts. But maybe it drives me nutballs because I too, am particular…about everything. 

Cue the moment when the control freak realizes she has spawned a control freak.

Once this preverbal light bulb went off in my brain it finally shed some light on why we had such a hard time during her toddler years. (See the post about that here --->) She is such a perfectly mixed concoction of my husband and me, but because she is still a child, her traits are unrefined and wild. I’ve learned over the years to tame my controlling tendencies and am now perfect and completely easy to live with. (You know I’m kidding right?) But you get the point. My husband and I have had our whole lives to practice self regulation, self discipline, and learning to let little things go. She, has not. 

I remember once she got so upset with me because I wouldn’t let her bring 5,000 of her toys over to grandma and grandpa’s house. Exaggeration? Maybe. But she really did try climbing into the car with two purses, 3 stuffed animals, a pair of sunglasses, toy phone, toy camera and princess high heels. In a fit of exasperation I told her that she simply could NOT bring that much stuff with her. It was ridiculous. 

However, after Seth very gingerly pointed out that Grace and I have our own similarities too, I caught myself leaving for a family dinner at my in-laws house with my giant owl purse, water bottle, coffee thermos, kindle, crochet needles, yarn, and slippers…crap. All that stuff was important to me to have. Perhaps all her toys were just as important to her. My experience had taught me to simply throw all my things in a large shoulder bag, whereas she was trying to carry everything (and therefore drop everything) with her hands. 

I love her for the things we have in common and for the areas that make me use the scary angry voice in my head. And next time, since I know it’s important to her, I might just have to let her bring all that silly stuff (aka priceless treasures) over to grandma’s. I’ll just be sure to give her a bag first.

Do you have any strangely similar traits with your kid too? Does it make you laugh..or drive you totally crazy?  I started an Instagram account @TotallyShantastic so please connect with me over there or leave a comment below! :) 

Blessings,

Shantastic