My Baby Doesn't Know I Have a Job

Ahh life. You busy little thing. 

When I restarted the blog back in April, it was during my quiet season for work. As I’ve mentioned before, I have a small business that I run from home. It’s a seasonal job so there are months in the year when I don’t have any projects I’m working on and then there are other months when I get to immerse myself in super fun creativeness. I like the change of pace. It’s nice to have seasons that are vastly different. 

However, now that the little cogs of my business are once again moving, it may mean that my blog posts will become bi-weekly (or even monthly). 

I wish I had a more definitive answer, but honestly I’m figuring this out as I go. Last year I took on way too much in all areas of my life, so I am trying really hard to have a better balance. However, the busyness of last year WAS a bit of an exception because we sold our house and lived with my in-laws for six weeks and THEN moved into our new house (all with a 3.5 and 1.5 year old). Add in the normal responsibilities of work and raising children and life was pretty crazy. We were too busy. 

When winter finally came and my work slowed, I felt God ushering me into a season of rest. I finally slowed down and experienced life at a much healthier pace. It was very eye-opening. We were now in our new home and no longer living out of boxes or spending every extra second going to a showing. I don't like to be that busy. I think we all have different levels of busy that we want to have in our lives, and the important part is figuring out what is best for you and your family. Are you putting too much on yourself? Are you taking time to just be? To enjoy something you love? During my season of rest I finally learned the importance of self care. Sometimes you just have to stop. Oftentimes the blog has been a form of self care for me. It’s something that feeds my soul and rejuvenates me. But as my work begins to pick up and my belly continues to grow to epic proportions, I don’t know what self care will look like for me this time around. Last week I touched on how much different this pregnancy has been compared to my other two. To twist a T. Swift lyric, “I’m feelin’ thirty-two oooo ooo” and you guys, instead of writing the next blog post I may just need to take a nap. But like I said earlier, I really don’t know yet what the future will bring. I hope I can continue to spill my thoughts in this space, but if I can’t make that happen every week, that’s ok too. 

Recently, I was packing up my work bag and about to head out the door for a few hours to complete a job. My son saw me heading towards the door and ran after me inquiring about where I was going. I told him I was going to work but I would be back soon. He froze and stared at me wide-eyed and then yelled, “You don’t go to work! Daddy goes to work!” I laughed and realized that the last time I left the house to go to work, he was too young to remember it. I thought it was super cute and realized that my season of starting work again would be something that wouldn’t just affect me. We would all have to adjust to it. 

If you read this blog every week, thank you. I’m looking forward to figuring out what the right pace is going to be going forward. And once I figure that out I will let you know. 

So, if there comes a Thursday and you don’t see my inner monologue ramblings pop up, know that I’ll be back. 

Sending a plethora of virtual hugs to you and yours,

Shantastic 

My Babies' Mom was on Vacation

Dinners that were uninterrupted. Conversations that got to be finished. Paddleboat rides and reading almost exactly one half of a 700 page book. Yes my friends, I have been blessed. I just spent the last 6 days with my husband. Without our kids. At a cabin in a town where we didn't know a single soul. My introverted heart was doing fist pumps for nearly a week straight.

When we left for our trip, Seth asked if I would miss the kids and then laughed while he answered his own question with a 'Nahh you probably won't.' He wasn't being mean by saying this, because he was right. For the most part. I did miss them from time to time and pictured seeing their faces. When we FaceTimed I couldn't suppress the longing I felt to kiss their skin. But getting a break like this from parenthood is rare, and I cherished every single second of it. As I've hinted in a few previous posts, I've been itching for a break from my 24/7 job. My four-year-old is starting to outgrow her quiet time (my one moment of peace during the day) and my two-year-old is a two-year-old. There’s not much I have to do to explain the exhaustion that comes with that. I choose to stay home with them and I really do feel completely blessed to be able to do that. But I've found that one of the tricky parts is you never quite feel like you've left your job. Your work shift doesn't end at 5 or 6 o' clock. It just keeps on going until bedtime. And even then you've got the disasters from the day staring you in the face and trying to tempt you to keep working instead of rest. I also know that when you work outside the home there can be a similar struggle because you just trade one work environment for another. Sure you're probably very excited to see your kids when you get home from work. Perhaps you smile wide as they greet you at the door with their excited squeals. Then, maybe they show you the art project they made in school with pride beaming in their eyes and as they run off down the hallway giggling you smile to yourself and think, my gosh I have been blessed. But then, four minutes later you hear one of them screaming and the other is crying because someone grabbed someone else's dinosaur, and you are reminded that work is not over yet. Parenthood really is a full time gig. 

After five years of being everything as often as I could be, I was starting to feel a bit weary as I continued to love and parent my children. I was a battery that was slowly losing its ability to recharge. Even though I've tried to find little pockets to breathe, this trip was just such a relief. As soon as the plans were set, I finally allowed myself to feel just how much I had been longing for a chance to set down my responsibilities. It was like I had been holding my breath and only just now realized how much my lungs were crying for more air to be let in. I had been in denial about how much I wanted a break because yours kids are your kids, and there’s isn’t a break from that. 

Our miraculous ten year anniversary trip came to be because one of my closest friends agreed to do a trade with me. I provided my business services to her for a job she needed done, and she gave us the keys to her family’s gorgeous cabin that rests on an open body of water. When I wrote to my mother-in-law asking her if she and my father-in-law would be willing to watch the kids for six days, she answered back with the most beautiful word I had ever seen… “Sure.” Those four letters solidified that my dream for a break was becoming a reality. 

For six glorious days, my husband and I got to talk each other without being interrupted 57 thousand times. We ate our food in peace. I took a nap one day in the middle of the afternoon simply because my busy schedule of going on the paddleboat and then reading was just.too.exhausting. This past week my schedule and routine has been quite different from the norm. I've been on my first real vacation with my husband since our honeymoon ten years ago. I've gotten to sit and READ A BOOK in the middle of the afternoon. Instead of scraping dried yogurt off the counter I got to be transported to a different world in a different time. My inner monologue throughout the week sounded less like a parent and more like a girl who was immensely enjoying her gift of rest. Instead of analyzing the most recent temper tantrum and trying to figure out how I could be a better Mom the next time, I talked to myself about whether or not I should eat a snack before I went to go sit on the dock. 'Hmm yes, Shan. I think casually nibbling on these strawberries while the breeze tickles your arms is a great way to spend your time before you go dangle your feet in the water.' 

Our vacation is over now and I’m going to be completely honest with you. The first few hours back home were rough. It was probably just the shock of it all. I was excited to see my babies, but after having such a long break to just be myself, suddenly being thrust back into parenthood reminded me of all the little things I have had to give up along the way. It took 45 minutes to finish my oatmeal this morning and I hadn’t even started drinking my coffee. The kids were amped up because Mom and Dad were back and they just didn’t know how to process it. There was a lot of screaming and I had to swallow my impatience as I reminded them to use their inside voices. It had only been a few hours and I was already longing for the quietness of my vacation. As I poured my coffee, I hid my face to make sure my kids didn’t see the tears that were starting to form in my eyes. I missed being at the cabin with my husband. Where everything was quiet and we could just be. 

But then a few minutes later when I peeked my head in the laundry room trying to figure out why my daughter was being so quiet, I saw her curled up in the corner on top of the picnic blanket. We silently gazed at each other for a moment and then I slowly lowered myself down to her level. I kissed the top of her arm and gently nuzzled my face into the crease of her neck. Just breathing her in. She barely moved as she brought her free arm up and tucked it around my waist, pulling me a little closer. As I lay there in that perfect moment I thought, yes Lord, this is it. This is why we gladly give up the little luxuries of eating our oatmeal in peace. It’s because what we have in front of us is so heartbreakingly beautiful. To literally watch life grow and evolve in front of us is a precious gift. A great blessing. 

Vacations are fun. But my life...is here. 

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!

***************************

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 Did Something Gross

And the award for best (aka worst) parenthood story goes to….

When we were pregnant with Grace, one of our friends gave us some great advice about how to approach parenthood as a couple. She said, “Don’t keep score with your spouse.” She went on to explain that parenthood is not a situation where you and your spouse are competing or keeping score. Like, if you were the one who was home when your infant projectile vomited all over your church outfit and you had to clean it up by yourself, you can’t hold that over your spouse’s head and be like, “Now you have to change the poops for a week.” Parenthood is messy and we all get our fair share of having to be the cleaner-upper. It could have easily been Seth who ended up being 25 minutes late to church because he had to change his outfit at the last minute and then realized that the outfit Grace just threw up all over was the last clean “church outfit” he had that fit his post-pregnancy body…But it wasn’t him was it. It was me. And you know what? That’s not his fault. 

But on the other side of it, I can say with a proud sense of accomplishment that I have never been peed on by one of my kids. There’s been the occasional leak that seeped out onto my pants (that time it happened when I was AT church…) but he’s the one who has gotten the bare bottom spray of pee all over his shirt. Miraculously enough, he’s also the only one who has gotten the privilege of cleaning up all the bathtub poops. It’s fine though because since I stay home with them that means I get to do all the daytime poopies, so we’re good. We’ve got a good balance and know how to “take one for the team”.

We tried to take my friend’s advice and not keep score in an unhealthy way. However, we were still able to joke with one another if we ever felt like we needed just a little acknowledgement or credit for the most recent gross thing we had to do. For example, there was a time right before Christmas when I was about to walk out the door and enjoy un-interrupted adult alone time. I had barely taken one step outside the frame of the door when I heard Seth cry out from the bathroom that he had yet another bathtub full of poop. I hesitantly turned back in toward the house (the poop-filled side) and as I was about to offer to stay back and help, he popped his head around the corner and said with an overdramatic flare, “Just go babe. Just go.” He knew that we would be joking about it for the next week and that he had been the hero to take the fall alone while I got to go eat Chick-Fil-A waffle fries ALL BY MYSELF. So, I made sure to give Seth some much deserved credit for tackling PoopGate 2016 and being the hero who saved Mommy’s magical Christmas shopping day. 

Even though he appreciated the adoration, we both knew there was nothing that would ever dethrone me from what happened last spring. It would take a lot more than a floating turd to relinquish my crown. Those fateful seconds last May forever solidified my ranking as the one in our marriage who has the best (aka worst) parenthood story. No bathtub stink or pee soak would ever top “the incident”. 

Seth had taken our daughter out for a date and I remember I had been attempting to finish the last few dishes in the sink. But of course, my babe who never wants to be more than five feet away from me wasn’t havin' it. He came waddling over and started pulling on my leg, begging for my attention. As I looked down at his little face that was beaming back up at me I realized, wait a second, I have JUST Emmett right now which means I can give him one-on-one attention and just ENJOY his presence. Peace out dishes. I’ll see ya later. I instantaneously melted down to the floor and he crawled up into my lap. As I sat down I felt my phone dig into my side so I quick grabbed it out of my pocket. I started to set my phone on the counter and then thought it would be funny to send a couple Snapchats to my family. Emmett seemed to be relishing in his recent victory for my attention and was in the perfect mood for a couple silly videos. As I started recording little ten second clips of us I kept laughing hysterically as he hammed it up. He was feeding off my laughter and started slobbering and squealing into the screen. I giggled even more as I realized that he still had leftover peanut butter smeared on his cheek from dinner. He was quite the sight. 

I glanced down at my phone to select the people I was going to send the Snapchat to. I was a little distracted as I clicked the different names and right before I pressed the “send” button I felt something lightly brush my cheek. I thought to myself, oh gross. Emmett probably just wiped some spit on me..or worse, some of the peanut butter that was smeared on his face. Ew. I quickly sent off the snapchat and as I glanced up at Emmett I saw him standing face-to-face with me…with his hand down the back of his pants. He then pulled out his hand and extended it to me. 

It was in that moment I realized…. I had poop on my face. 

The award for best story goes to me.

I forever and always win. 

Blessings,

Shantastic aka Poopface

**********************************************

What’s your best (aka worst) story?? Does it top mine?? Share it below in the comments or find me on Instagram @TotallyShantastic (Or if you know me on Facebook, let me hear it! Do you get the crown in your family for the best story??)

FOLLOW BY EMAIL: Enter your email address in the box on the top right to get new posts sent directly to your inbox! Your address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time!