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Five Extraordinary Years

February 2, 2011 by Kelli

All of my children are miracles. They are miracles to me. All three of them own my heart and are wrapped into the depths of my soul. There is a feeling that is a little deeper, though, when I look at my daughter.

My daughter.

To hear those words when I had convinced myself I would never have a daughter…That moment is forever etched on my heart. She’s my daughter. Mine.

And I adore her.

I want the world for her.

I want to protect her from the world.

She’s beautiful and sassy and funny and awesome.

She’s my daughter.

And today? Today she is five.

5 Extraordinary Years from Kelli Stuart on Vimeo.

Happy Birthday to my sweet girl today. I look forward to many more extraordinary years…

Song by Rebekah Sullivant from her Little Lambs and Lullabies album.

Many thanks to Jim of BusyDadBlog for inspiring me to begin using video and for taking the time to teach me how to use the software. Hopefully there will be many more videos to come.

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Tia Tagged With: birthdays, children, Motherhood, Tia

Stones of Remembrance

January 17, 2011 by Kelli

Intentional

This is a word that is following me around quite a bit lately. I hear it, read it, think it and sleep it. Intentional. What does it mean to be intentional?

I went to Webster’s Dictionary to look for a clear defination of intentional. Here’s what I learned: Webster’s Dictionary isn’t a lot of help. Intentional is defined as “done by intention or design.” Great. Awesome. Way to help.

So I looked up the word intend.

“To direct the mind to.”

Much better. This definition actually gave me something to think about. Because to be intentional really does require thought. It means I must direct my mind toward an action. It requires work and planning and it’s hard…

To live and live well, one must be intentional. I forget that a lot. Actually, it feels like I forget that every single day. How often do I go to bed and run through the day and realize I went through the motions? How often do I reflect on the day and see that I merely survived?

This is not intention.

Lee and I are blessed to have wonderful leaders and friends and supporters around us who are constantly encouraging us to be better. Yesterday we spoke at length with many of these people about placing Stones of Remembrance out for our kids.

Orchestrating moments in the kids lives that they can look back at and point to as a time when God was there.

A time they remember.

A time they felt loved.

A time when they discovered who they were created to be.

Intentional

When the Isrealites crossed the Jordan River into the promised land, Joshua commanded the twelve men whom he had appointed from the sons of Isreal and said to them, “Cross again to the ark of the Lord your God into the middle of the Jordan, and each of you take up a stone on his shoulder…Let this be a sign among you, so that when your children ask later, saying, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ then you sall say to them, ‘Because the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord; when it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off.’ So these stones shall become a memorial to the sons of Isreal forever.”

Intentional

I have to be intentional with my children. I have to set out stones of remembrance for them. Sometimes these things are easy – they naturally flow from the every day moments of life – as long as I’m paying attention, of course. Like the day the tornado didn’t come through. We were intentional in pointing Sloan to God’s answer that day.

But if I’m not planning ahead – if I’m not intentionally seeking ways to set up stones of remembrance – I will miss opportunities.

The same goes in every area of our lives. Lee and I are being challenged in many different ways to be intentional in our giving. We must intentionally stretch ourselves to give more. We must be intentional in budgeting so that it is easier to make giving a priority.

We have to be intentional in our marriage. We must be intentional in our careers, intentional in the way we spend our time, our moments.

Intentional

Setting up stones of remembrance – this is my heart as a mother, as a wife, as a daughter and sister. As a child of the Lord Most High. Because someday I will look back and point my children and, hopefully, grandchildren to those stones…those moments. And I will be able to tell them, “Look. Look what the Lord Most High did for you.”

Intentional

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Life, Marriage, Ministry, Motherhood Tagged With: Kids, Life, Living life intentionally, Motherhood, parenting, setting stones of remembrance

My Christmas Baby

December 16, 2010 by Kelli

December 16, 2007

My Christmas Baby.

The boy who almost wasn’t.

The one who wasn’t planned.

The sweetest oops there ever was.

The boy who was adored from the moment he arrived.

A child of a thousand expressions.

Joyful and full of laughter. You light up a room.

You’re a mama’s boy.

I’m okay with that.

I’m kind of head over heels for you.

You have a special relationship with your dad.

You bond over sports.

I love watching this relationship develop.

You are a lover of baseball, basketball, football, anything with a ball.

Today you are three.

Not five ( or seven) as you are prone to tell those who ask.

Happy Birthday, Landon.

You are loved.

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Landon Tagged With: 3rd Birthday, Happy Birthday, Motherhood

Today

December 8, 2010 by Kelli

– Opening night for The Christmas Post was last night. It went really, really well. I’m not going to lie – I was a little concerned. As of Saturday we had never made it all the way through the play. There was so much work to be done, so many little details to be fine tuned that it seemed we might never get it all pulled together.

But God is good and we did it and it was a lot of fun! There are still tickets available for the rest of the week – please come if you can! We have spent countless hours over the last few weeks pulling this together and we would love to see a packed house every single night.

– Today, mercifully, we have the day off. And I am thankful. The muscles in the left side of my body have decided to have a party and have all bunched up so that turning from side to side, leaning for forward, picking anything up or moving in general has become a bit of a task. I need a day to unwind, go to bed early and be with my family.

– Speaking of my family, my husband rocks. Seriously. He’s doing this parenting thing alone every night this week. That’s a lot of work. But he’s been great about it and I couldn’t appreciate it more.

– While this musical is great fun, it’s also a sacrifice. I’m sacrificing my own time and, while I’m having fun, I’m also working really hard. My husband is serving me and through his service, I am able to serve others along with all of the other members of the cast. Service is hard – even when it’s fun. It requires that we step outside what’s comfortable and easy and we sacrifice – we sacrifice our time, our resources, our sleep and more.

– I’ll be honest. Service has never been really natural for me. I’m very selfish, especially with my time and my gifts. But I don’t think service is ever easy. It really goes against our human nature. I’m grateful for the chance to serve others this week. It’s hard, but it’s fun and it’s rewarding!

– Switching gears…

– Sometimes this blogging thing stresses me out. Particularly in weeks like this one. I’m wiped, both physically and emotionally. I don’t have a lot to offer my readers. Yet I feel pressure to offer something quippy and funny. I have to remind myself that I don’t have to do this. It’s okay to take some time off. The world as we know it won’t cease to revolve if I don’t write a post or two.

Will it?

– I’ve had this little issue with my shoulder for awhile now. Like eight years. Ever since I coached gymnastics a lifetime ago. All that overhand spotting caused all sorts of craziness to take root. And instead of having it looked at, I ignored it. Until a few weeks ago when I realized I was having a hard time pushing elevator buttons without wincing in pain. I headed in to see a physical therapist and since that time I’ve been wondering what took me so long to do something about my shoulder. I have severe tendonitis, perhaps a bit of bursitis and who knows what else.

At some point I may see an orthopedic to get an MRI, but for now I’m sticking with my PT because he rocks and he’s nice and he has a great southern accent that makes me happy.

– Christmas is coming up in a couple of weeks. I’m not sure if you heard. It falls on the 25th this year. Someone I know is not ready…she hasn’t even finished her shopping. I’ll give you one guess as to who that is…

– Okay, this is the part of the post where I wrap it up.

Let’s all breathe a sigh of relief together.

I’ll be back next week with real content. 🙂

Filed Under: Christmas, Family, Holidays, Lee, Life Tagged With: Christmas, Motherhood, Random, service, The Christmas Post

He gets it all

December 6, 2010 by Kelli

He came to me yesterday as I prepared myself for dress rehearsal. The musical is set in 1947 so I had on dark eyeliner, a skirt, lips so red they glow in the dark and hair so curly that I vaguely resembled Simba.

He looked up at me with big eyes, then a slow smile spread across his face.

“You bootiful, Mom,” he said.

“Thank you, buddy,” I replied. My heart sort of melted at that point.

Then he grabbed my hand and gave it a tug. “Come down here,” he said, pulling me to my knees. “I wanna give you a hug ‘tause you bootiful.”

We hugged.

Then I promised everything he ever wanted and more. Money. Cars. His brother and sister’s inheritance.

He gets it all…

Photo courtesy of Lulu Photography

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: Kids, Landon, Lulu Photography, Motherhood, Photography

Knocked Up

November 15, 2010 by Kelli

I shared this story the other night with a friend and I decided it was too funny not to blog. So here you go…just another random blog about my life.

You. Are. Welcome.

I was 24 years old and pregnant with Sloan. It should be stated that Sloan was a mammoth of a child. He was 9.3 when he was born in July of 2003 so by June of that year I looked like I was going to explode. I carried him one hundred percent out front and quite low so yes, I waddled and I got asked more than once if I was expecting twins.

FYI – Pregnant women don’t like to be asked if they’re having twins because the chances are greater that they’re not carrying twins. If you are unsure, it’s best to simply not ask.

It was early on a June day and Lee needed to take my car into the shop due to a rather unpleasant sound it was making that was certain to cost us a large portion of our unborn child’s college fund so instead of being stuck at home for the day, I decided to run the few errans I had in The Pup.

The Pup was a little Isuzu truck we bought while we were rehabbing our house so that we could haul lumber and other large items to and from our temporary home – Lowes. I believe we paid $500 for The Pup. She was rusted inside and out and she shook rather furiously when you started her up. She sputtered when she moved and she was drafty due to a rather significant hole in the floor board. But she served her purpose well and we tried not to drive her long distances for fear that she might literally fall apart in the road and we’d be left manually pushing a Flinstones car up the driveway.

So on this fine morning, I loaded up The Pup and prepared to spend the morning out.

Did I mention I was great with child? Great with child. And for some reason, on this particular day, I decided to wear my hair in two long braids. I was 24 so I could still pull off braids without looking totally and completely ridiculous.

Actually, I’m guessing that’s not true. I probably looked ridiculous.

I also wore no make up and because my fingers were rather swollen I had on no ring. But the creme de la creme of my little ensemble came in the form of my maternity shirt. Because my protuding abdomen was so prominent, food and liquids attached themselves to it with great frequency. As in, every time I ate I spilled something on my stomach. So by the end of my pregnancy, I didn’t own a single unstained shirt. And the shirt I chose on that particular day was white and had a long stain right. down. the middle.

I am nothing if not classy.

So out I walked. In braids, with a stained shirt, to The Pup. I had give myself a bit of a running start in order to get my gut up off the ground and into the slightly elevated seat. It was quite the ordeal, in fact to get in and get the seat adjusted so that I could reach the steering wheel without it cutting off the circulation to the lower half of my body.

In short…I looked ridiculous.

I made my first stop at Borders Bookstore. I waddled in and got my book and smiled slightly at the people who started at me with eyebrows raised. I waddled back out, took my hop, step and leap into The Pup’s front seat and shimmied around until I was just right and continued on to the gas station.

Here I ran into an older man and woman filling up their boat on wheels. The woman didn’t even try to hide her horrified stares. It was at this moment that I began to feel a bit like a Zoo animal. I also began to wonder what it was that people were staring at.

After I got gas, I headed to Mecca Target. It was here that the stares intensified and I finally got the question.

“Honey, when are you due?”

“In three weeks.”

“Ah,” the woman nodded knowingly. “And you feel okay to be out walking around?”

“Um…yes?”

She looked down at me with a bit of pity in her eyes, causing even more confusion on my part. “Well, good luck to you,” she said, patting me on the shoulder as she turned to walk away. This woman truly seemed sorry for me.

I decided to make my purchase and get out of the Twilight Zone as quickly as possible at that point. When I made my pitiful leap into The Pup, I looked up in the rear view mirror to make sure I didn’t have FREAK written across my forehead and when I looked I laughed out loud.

Braids and no make up with bangs hanging neatly across my forehead…

I looked seventeen years old.

No wonder people stared. I looked like a poor little knocked up teenager who’s boyfriend had left her with nothing but a stained shirt and beat up old truck. This explained the old woman’s horror at the gas station.

I also explains why I have never worn braids again.

The End.

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Motherhood, Sloan Tagged With: knocked up, Motherhood, pregnancy

The curse of the stay at home, work at home, loves her home mom

November 12, 2010 by Kelli

In recent months work has taken off for me quite a bit. I’m at the tail end of editing a third book this year with a fourth lined up to start next week. All four of these books fell in my lap and I have had more fun than I’d like to publicly admit fixing them up. In addition to the books, I’ve started writing for a couple of other websites, am speaking next week at a social media event and am ramping up plans to send STL Family Life to the next level.

So many blessings. I can’t tell you how much it thrills me to have these opportunities, but…

I’ve struggled lately. Am I doing the right thing? Is this what I should be doing? Am I being all that I need to be for my kids, my husband and my community? What if this path is the wrong path? Am I being selfish?

I’ve been wading through some insecurity lately. When I began this blog almost three years ago I had no clue what blogging was all about. I wanted to keep a record of life with three kids amidst the insanity of a new baby. And now, while I still want to keep a record for my kids, I must admit I’m also doing this for me. I’m doing it because I love to create. I love that this blogging/social media business has helped me burst out of my bubble a bit and meet people I never would have met before.

Some of you may have a hard time believeing this, but by nature I’m a bit of an introvert. Meeting new people scares the crap out of me. Meeting people who are successful and funny and accomplished makes me feel like curling up in bed with a copy of Jane Eyre, a bottle of wine and a year’s supply of PEOPLE magazine.

Sad, I know.

But in the last year I’ve found a new sense of confidence bubble beneathe the interior of my insecurity. Part of it stems from my husband who never ceases to make me feel like I can conquer the world…and who tells me I’m hot on a daily basis. Seriously can’t get enough of that…

Some comes from the fact that my family all support my online writing with a great deal of glee. I can always count on my parents to make me feel like I hung the moon.

But a large part of this confidence has come from dear friends and absolute strangers. People here in town who have embraced me and encouraged me, taught me and challenged me. People who are beautiful and successful and…nice. Women who are great moms and great writers. Women who stay at home, women who work at home, women who work outsdie the home, women of all stages of life…Women who tell me it’s okay to pursue my dreams.

So a new confidence is brewing inside. But there is still guilt and insecurity. You see, while I now feel confident in my ability to accomplish my goals and dreams, I question my motivation to do so. I like that I can earn a little income and help support our family to a degree (or at least help take my husband on a rockin’ European vaction, anyway), and I like the creative outlet writing and editing give me which make me a better mom altogether.

But is it right?

I read this post today by Megan at Velveteen Mind and it struck a chord in my soul. My career is filled with lofty ideals and noble goals. My family is my mission. I can fail in my freelance career – I cannot fail as a mother.

The thing that’s most frustrating about my current insecurities is that most of them have no base. I’m not being unwise in my career. I’m not sacrificing my family. I’m not taking on more than I can handle (not now anyway) but I am struggling against this feeling of uncontentment. I’m not content with my career because I want to take it to the next level, but I don’t want to take it to the next level because I fear I’ll sacrifice my family. I’ve had enough work lately that I’ve tossed around the idea of hiring a babysitter for a couple of hours a week so I can get things done. Oh the guilt I’ve felt for even thinking that! Insane amounts…And here’s why – I love what I do! Writing and editing are not work for me. So hiring a sitter once a week so I can hole up in Starbucks and have fun feels like an indulgence. I’m still not sure if I’ll do it or not…

And so I flounder a bit.

I don’t share this to have the problem solved. I think all moms deal with this to a degree. We all have to balance who we are inside the home with who we are outside the home. We all have passions and goals outside of motherhood and yet we all long to do nothing more than be great moms. I share this just to share. To get it out of my head and off my chest. To verbally confess – I’m struggling with life balance. No one in my family is suffering, everyone’s healthy (emotionally that is – Tia has a nasty cold) and we are enjoying one another daily. But I still battle within.

I don’t think I’m alone in this…

Filed Under: Life, Motherhood Tagged With: mom guilt, Motherhood, my husband thinks I'm hot, the struggles of motherhood, Velveteen Mind, Work at home moms

Thankful in November

November 10, 2010 by Kelli

My sister-in-law (who is all kinds of awesome) is doing a month long series in which she details that which she is thankful for. Imagine that! Giving thanks in the month of Novemeber…who ever heard of such a thing?

I, personally, love the idea of focusing on that for which I am thankful. It’s so easy to get bogged down in the negative, in the business and craziness and OMGI’MNOTGONNASURVIVETHIS moments of life that sometimes I have to stop myself and remember the happy.

In general I’m not much of an Eyeore type person. I’m thankful for that because with some of the heartaches that I have faced in the past, it would be very easy to be an Eyeore. But then again, it’s that way for all of us, isn’t it? We’ve all faced pain, heartache, trial, hurt. We all have the choice to dwell in the pain, live in the past and simmer in the hurt.

Or…

We can move on, step forward and let the past fade in the distance. For some, that’s easy to do. For others, it’s much harder due to deeper wounds, harsher trials or simply because they are hardwired from conception to stew, analyze and think.

So today I’m focusing on the thankful. I have been so bogged down lately that I really haven’t had time to stop and think and…thank.

Outside of the obvious (my husband and kids…what kind of wife and mom would I be if I didn’t mention them, right?) I’m thankful for where we are in our lives right now. We’ve walked a bit of a tightrope in the last few months and it had every potential end in a stomach dropping plunge. But, instead, the tightrope has slwoly widened and we are once again feeling a bit more secure. Not comfortable, of course, as we are ever on our guard, but we have definately seen blessing in the last month.

I’m thankful for that.

I’m thankful for the memories I made travelling Europe with my husband where he snapped the above picture on our last day in Italy as I lounged in a park in Bellagio. I was looking at the mountains across Lake Como and marvelling at God’s majesty, totally in awe of creation. I’m thankful for that day, for that moment and for the many pictures that are seared into my brain from across the seas.

I’m thankful for the career I’m slowly but surely beginning to develop in writing, editing and social media. I wasn’t looking for this and it kind of fell in my lap and I just have to say – I’m having the time of my life. I’m still navigating the waters of what is feasible for me to pursue and what needs to be sacrificed as I also tend to my young brood. But I’m thankful for opportunity, whatever it might be, that comes my way and I’m totally enjoying the ride.

I’m thankful for Nutella. It’s just so very, very good. On everything. Including pizza crust, on which we slathered an entire can a couple of weeks ago and presented it to the kids as dinner. Which leads me to the next thing:

I’m thankful that I can still please my kids with a Boboli Pizza crust and a can of Nutella. I’m thankful that my seven year old still thinks it’s cool when I accompany him on field trips. I’m thankful that my four year old still wants to hold my hand and sit in my lap. I’m thankful that my two year old tells me I’m beautiful almost every day and then squints his eyes in a mischevious grin because he knows it melts my heart.

I’m thankful for my soft bed and thick pillows even though I don’t get to enjoy those as much as I would like to.

I’m thankful.

I’m also now craving Nutella.

I’m thankful that Target is only a couple of minutes away and they faithfully stock Nutella on their shelves.

What are you thankful for?

Filed Under: Family, Holidays, Lee, Life, Thanksgiving Tagged With: God's Creation, Italy, Motherhood, Nutella, Thankfulness, Thanksgiving

I need your advice

November 9, 2010 by Kelli

Post edit: This post is not meant to condemn anyone who has given their child a Nintendo DS or DSi. I do not oppose gaming devices in general, however, at this point in time they are not right for our family. My intent in posting this is not to make anyone feel bad but to get feedback on what the heck to buy my children for Christmas!!!

Carry on…

Hey guys. So Christmas is around the corner. I’m not sure if you were aware of that fact. I mean, you know, if you’ve been hiding under a rock you might not have realized, but for the rest of us who are already being bombarded with decorations and music it’s pretty dang hard to ignore.

Christmas is coming and somewhere someone’s goose is getting fat. Poor Thanksgiving…it is the forgotten holiday.

So here’s my yuletide dilemma. My seven year old is at the age where gift buying is becoming a bit difficult. He still likes toys (praise God), but he’s not as easy to please as he once was. I believe we have one more year before buying gifts to satisfy his maturing tastes will become harder…and more expensive.

This year, he has his sweet little heart set on a Nintendo Dsi. He talks about it incessantly. He wants to check them out every time we enter The Holy Land Target and he tells everyone he sees that he’s getting one for Christmas. Here’s the thing, though.

He’s not.

Lee and I have decided that right now we are not ready to introduce hand held gaming devices into our children’s lives. There are a couple of reasons for this:

1.) I just don’t think it’s necessary at seven to have a Nintendo Dsi. I’m not opposed to them, but I find it to be an awfully expensive gift for such a young child.

2.) I think there are better things to do with one’s time than play video games. We have a Wii and it gets played some, but repeated and extended periods of play are off limits.

3.) I am not ready for the battles that will inevitably come with a NDsi (don’t want to type it all out again). Sloan is actually very responsible when it comes to TV and video games. He does not have much of an addictive personality and he is not one to sit for hours with his eyes glued to the tube. He gets bored and loses interest quickly and can go months without playing the Wii at all. Landon, however, is already showing addictive tendencies in that he wants to watch TV or play the Wii all the flippin’ time. It’s already a daily battle with him resulting in many tears shed. A NDsi would inevitably become a battle zone between Sloan and his siblings and, quite honestly, I can’t handle one more battle.

Are we being unfair? I don’t feel like it, but it really does break my heart not to give Sloan what he wants because he’s such a good kid. I tried to break it to him gently the other day that this year would likely not be the year he received an NDsi. His reponse?

“That’s okay. I’ll ask Santa to bring it to me!”

Crap! Am I going to crush his dreams and destroy Santa all in one year? Hey…welcome to the Stuart home where we take your dreams and roll them inthumb tacks then light them on fire.

Thanks for stopping by!

When I told Lee of Sloan’s reponse he came up with the brilliant solution of telling Sloan that Santa doesn’t bring such expensive gifts – he lets the parents buy those presents. I have tasked Lee with preparing Sloan to not find a NDsi under the tree this Christmas while still preserving the magic of Santa for one more year. I’m counting on my man to come through on this one!

My question is, though, what should we get the poor boy for Christmas? Yes, he will receive clothes, a few books and probably some new art supplies. But what do we get him for that one special toy that’s going to light up his face when he walks around the corner Christmas morning?!

I need your advice! What are you getting your kids for Christmas? I have a few ideas, but nothing seems to take the place of his beloved NDsi, which he will likely receive at some point, but just not now.

I do hereby open the comments up for suggestions. This is my sad attempt to see if I can break the ten comment barrier I seem to have on my posts. Come on, folks, don’t let me down. I am officially begging for your comments! My motherly angst has reduced me to this…a comment whore mooch.

…

Okay, I can’t let the last word of a post be whore mooch so I’m going to share a picture that has nothing to do with this post but I just want to share it. It’s Tia, in her Little Miss Matched tights, which I told you about here and her glasses which make her look way too old.

Merry Christmas.

No! Happy Thanksgiving.

Filed Under: Christmas, Holidays, Kids, Landon, Lee, Motherhood, Sloan, Thanksgiving Tagged With: Age appropriate toys, Little Miss Matched, Motherhood, Nintendo Dsi, When should a child get a Dsi?

Cry me a freakin’ river

November 7, 2010 by Kelli

I’ve told you before…I’m a cryer. Crier? Yes…I think it’s crier.

I cry a lot.

I cry easily, I cry loudly, I cry ugly. And if I try not to cry, I eventually burst like a dam spilling my ugly all over whoever is closest to me. Sometimes I laugh to cover the cry, which tends to make the cry louder and even more embarrassing. I blubbered throughout my entire wedding ceremony.

I don’t know why! Weddings are happy right?

I’m off topic. I’m reeling myself back in. I said all of the above to lead into the fact that I cried this weekend. I cried a lot, I cried hard and I cried ugly. This is the part where you all need to feel sorry for Lee, the unintended target of all my crazy.

It started Thursday afternoon when Lee came home from work to find me wrapped in two blankets in front of the fire place trying to thaw out after a frigid morning at Purina Farms on Sloan’s field trip. The conversation went something like this:

Lee: “So what’s the plan Saturday?”

Me: “Mom and Dad are keeping the kids overnight Friday night and are bringing them back Saturday around 3:00.”

Lee: “Well, I forgot to tell you, but the elders are supposed to do XXXXXXXXXXXXXX on Saturday morning and we’d really like our wives to come along.”

Me: “No! I can’t. That’s my one day off.”

And then…the dam broke. It was a face in hands, over the top, Sweet Mother of all that’s Holy cry from the gut. And here is why:

Every single second of my life right now is scheduled. From the moment my feet hit the ground to the second my head hits the pillow I have things that need to be done and places I need to be. Every single evening of the week is occupied and by Thursday afternoon I had been burning the candle at both ends for so long that I was dangerously close to burn out.

And I snapped.

Poor, sweet Lee. He didn’t even see it coming. Again my fault. I haven’t been communicating because I didn’t want to complain since I’m the one that committed to all of these responsibilities and I hadn’t really communicated to him how desperately I needed a day to myself. But being the Wonder Man that he is…and given that I freaked him out a bit with my impressive meltdown, he immediately told me not to worry about it, he’d go without me and youjuststayhomeandgetalittlerest.

Amen.

So I did and it was bliss. I edited 30 pages of the book I’m working on, did six loads of laundry, got my house relatively cleaned up and never once changed out of my pajamas. I didn’t wipe anyone’s behind or take out a single sippy cup. By the time they all came home I was completely rejuvenated.

Until…

We decided to take down the crib this weekend and put Landon in a big bed. Good grief, just writing that sentence brought tears to my eyes. I took the mattress out of the crib while Lee went to search for a tool box and I just looked down into it and literally seven and a half years of baby floated through my head.

I remembered myself a brand new mom holding Sloan on the floor next to the crib because we had just moved in and I had no place else to sit. I remembered walking in and seeing Sloan coo at his mobile hanging above the crib. I remembered walking in to find a fat, happy little boy staring at me for two years until he was replaced in the crib by a tiny, precious surprise of a baby girl.

I remembered buying new, girly bedding and excitedly putting it in the crib despite the fact that I had purchased “gender neutral” bedding the first time around. I remembered staring at that sweet baby in pink for hours, her tiny little backside up in the air as she slept. I remembered the sound of her climbing out of the crib before she was even two…

I remembered placing Landon in the crib and looking down at him, wondering if he really would be the last to sleep in it. I remembered the long nights as I rocked with him in the chair next to the crib. I remembered the dread I felt as I thought of disassembling the crib.

Then Lee came back in the room and sat down on the floor. He stopped for a minute and looked around. “This is sad,” he said.

Cue breaking dam.

I tried to laugh it off like, Hahaha- isn’t it so silly to cry over this? But I couldn’t laugh and I turned away so he wouldn’t see my ugly cry face and I sobbed those deep, soul wrenching sobs. Kind of like I’m doing right now.

Then Lee got all choked up, which made me cry more…and made me feel better. I wasn’t crazy to cry. It is sad. It was time to do this, for sure. But it was also sad. That season of life went by so quickly and I’m not ready for it to be over. Of course, it might not be. There is always the possibility that we’ll have to pull the crib back out at some point…but for right now, that’s not the case. For right now, that crib is lying in the basement, a reminder that life is flying by in solitary blinks.

Cry with me, won’t you? It feels good. And it hurts.

After a few moments of sobby sobs, I reigned myself in and handed Lee the screwdriver he needed. Of course, my tears quickly turned to laughter…or at least mild chuckles…when we realized we weren’t at all prepared with a big bed to move Landon into. We have to round up box springs, which we hadn’t even thought about when we decided to make this move.

Oh and, incidentally, who in their right mind decides to move a child out of his crib the night of daylight savings? I think we were so focused on ripping the bandaid off that we didn’t think clearly and logically through what we were doing. So for now, the boy sleeps on a mattress on the floor, which suits him just fine.

And me? I have a feeling there will be a few more tears shed over this little milestone. Ugly gopher tears. Lee – prepare yourself.