The Season

www.challenge.walmart.com/springfield

There is a time for everything. 

Sometimes I think back to a time in my life when things seemed easier.  No husband.  No mortgage. No kids.  Virtually no real responsibility.  And somehow even when I was going through those seasons I still had confidence that the best was yet to come.  I didn't really think it was easier at the time.  Ever felt like that?

As I spent yesterday evening grocery shopping in the rain with tired kiddos, I almost laughed at how I actually was excited about Friday night grocery shopping night. No date night out or laughs with friends.  Nope, not for us. I was happy because we were crossing something off our list early in the weekend, leaving us lots of time for cleaning house, doing mountainous piles of laundry and running around after kids the rest of Saturday and Sunday. No different than usual. That's just the season we're in.

On days when I'm anxious about bills (Yes, we are still paying off my c-section and two NICU babies more than a year later!) or worried about not having much, if any, disposable income at the end of every month, I have to consciously remind myself that I'm just 30.  Our kids are young.  And even though we will hit the big 10 year mark this May, our marriage is still fairly "young" in the scheme of things.   It is OKAY that we don't have tons of dough.  It is OKAY that we struggle and sacrifice and work really hard for the things that we want.  We truly never lack the things we need. 

I remember being 8 or 9 years old (I can't remember exactly which but if you ask my sister with the steel trap memory she will fill you in), living in a cramped apartment with my parents and sharing a mattress on the floor with my sister while we built our house.  I remember my mom making our clothes and us never going out to eat. What I remember so vividly though isn't about the money, or lack of it. It's about the work.  Hard work.  And knowing that my parents were working hard to provide a better season for our family. 

I reminded Ben this week that in 4 short years we will have all three kids in school.  We will be a two income family once again, minus the ridiculous $500ish daycare payments every week this time around.  What in the world will we do with that boost to our budget?  We cannot even fathom that kind of life right now.  That's okay.  It's just the season we're in.

Once you move past a season, you don't usually think about returning.  But this week I got the rare opportunity to celebrate my current life while channeling the Carrie of another time. Curious?

To help out a coworker working on Walmart commercial castings, I agreed to do a quick interview weeks ago.  Turns out they wanted me to come in for a commercial highlighting local moms saving money.  I showed up Tuesday and after a brief hair & makeup session I had one of the best days I can remember in a long time. Sure, I got paid for my time, but the real treat was a throwback to my old self.  I was fun and crazy and spunky and...just...Carrie. But not the reserved, professional, polished Carrie who says the right things and acts appropriately.  Nope, not her.  Instead the Carrie from a different season.  The Carrie from college or even before.  Before the cares of the world and responsibility to act my age and job became more important than the loud, energetic, quirky and fun Carrie.  Sigh.  It was strangely fun and a nice change of pace.  I spent 5 hours bantering with the commercial host, juggling with tomato soup and noodle-o's, dancing the chicken dance, playing peekaboo in the Walmart freezer doors and frankly making a fool of my self.  They wanted big reactions? I delivered.  Facial expressions and smiles?  Done.  Shock, Awe and Amazement?  In the bag.  And I walked away feeling carefree. 

Sure, I'm a mom and not really a very cool one at that.  But I'm also fun.  Really, I am. (Why do I feel the need to convince you?) And for just a short time this week I got to be both.  As the day wore on and I slowly slipped back into my normal self, I had the sinking realization that other people (i.e. people I work with and who know me professionally) were actually going to see this commercial.  And soon.  I cringed inside at the reactions ahead.  I was totally over the top ridiculous during the shooting, but it really was just ME!  Just not necessarily the "me" everyone gets to know and love on a daily basis.  I've always been upbeat and bubbly, but Tuesday was really an extreme.  It was reminiscent of the turbo cheerleader fun-loving Carrie that my wonderful husband met and fell in love with.  I had forgotten that this person was still in there.

As the anxiety grew I found myself remembering one of the last things I said to the film crew on Tuesday.  They were telling me how much fun they had and how they appreciated that they didn't have to keep telling me to smile or be expressive.  They didn't have to feed me lines at all.  I just went with it and had a good time.  I remember telling them, "What's the point of life if you can't have a little fun and not take yourself so seriously."  HA.  If you really know me, that is NOT something that you'd hear me say.  I am pretty much the reason someone came up with the phrase "lighten up!"  Who is this person I have become and why?  Is it my job, requiring me to be the professional? Is it the toil and troubles of life that have so radically worn me down?  Is it the distance of my dearest friends, with whom I used to never hold back?

Somewhere along the way, the seriousness about life has infiltrated my spirit. Doesn't that happen to all of us?  Hard to spend time with friends or the husband being carefree and over the top when you have LIFE to handle. Family and friends battling divorce and cancer and money and kids.  So many burdens that just seem to crush us.  It makes me sad.

So I'm going to own it.  Yes, the commercial is a tad cheesy and totally the opposite of my strait-laced, composed, PR professional ways.  But, you know what?  It's just me.  I had a blast.

And maybe I'm learning that the season we're in depends less on our circumstances and more on the attitude we have along the way.

www.challenge.walmart.com/springfield

The Resolution

A Year Later - 2 Days Before The Big Day!

We all do it.  Whether in our heads or in a pact with friends...or publicly on Facebook.  We commit to something at the start of a new year.  Lose weight.  Take a trip.  Restore friendships.  We are encouraged by the concept of starting fresh.  At the clean slate of a new beginning and chance to get back on the wagon. 

This is where I am.  I am two days away from having one year old twins.  I am literally writing this in shock.  Shock that the time has passed so quickly.  Shock that we've not only survived but can honestly say we have thrived in many ways.  Shock that I am virtually back to my pre-twin-preggo size (notice I said virtually).  Shock that despite the dark moments in the past year, I absolutely, unequivocally love my life and at the same time...don't...some days. 

October 26 is a New Year. 

I'm going into this birthday celebration with bittersweet joy.  One year is gone.  We'll never get it back and I fear I have not been the best "Carrie" I should have.  But what's done is done.  I've made my resolutions and I've committed.

I knew having three boys was going to be an adventure.  Oh. BOY.  To commemorate our 12 month milestone I scheduled a fall outdoor portrait session with the lovely and talented Gretchen Miekley Photography.  Ben and I tried for weeks to prevent bruises and scrapes on the baby smooth skin in our household, knowing that family pictures were imminent.  We made it.  The morning of pictures and we were on schedule with early naps, ironing clothes and had just enough time to make it out the door on time with sparkling clean and flawless faces. One hour to go.  And I was initiated into the 'mom of boys' club.  Toby bumped his head on the fireplace and I spent 10 minutes I didn't have calming him down, putting ice on his goose-egg and mourning the loss of my picture perfect family. 

This will be my life.  Bruises and broken bones.  Racing out the door, running late.  Laughing at farts and jumping off everything in sight.  Arguing with the boys about keeping their hands out of their pants, clipping their nails, cleaning out their ears and wiping the toilet seat down.  Ew. Gross.  Again, my life. 

I have to admit that at times I do not handle this well.  Let's just be honest...MOST of the time I do not handle this very well.  We've covered this.  I'm a control freak.  And fiercely independent.  And obsessed with having a plan. And unfairly demanding of those I love the most.  And intolerable of being late.  Ugh.  My least favorable qualities are not exactly a perfect match for combating the rambunctious, spontaneous nature of my beloved boys.

And so sometimes (more often than I'd like) I react instead of respond.  In a way I look back on and cringe.  I get frustrated and loud.  I yell.  I freak out.  I stomp and throw a tantrum with my kids and husband like I'm two.  And then I wonder why my eldest mimics it back to me when he himself faces something that upsets his world?  It's really not okay.

Thus the resolution.  Out of all the things I could do or have, the single most important thing to me this New Year is to be a better person.  To me, this is so much more than being a better mom or wife or woman.  What I want to be is simply a better ME. 

All my work and effort to prepare for daily life and managing a household of crazy boys will probably not ever by recognized or appreciated (and that's really okay!).  The reality is that I get so caught up in the craziness of details that I miss the moments with my family that can just be fun.  This seems like an impossible lesson for me to learn but I am determined to try. 

I want my kids to remember the times I chased them around the house on all fours as they shrieked with laughter.  I want them to remember the times I STOPPED yelling and knelt down to their level, took their faces in my hands gently and told them I loved them.  I want them to remember our early morning trips grocery shopping and special treat dates at Orange Leaf or Star Cakes.  I want them to remember my smiles.  And not my disapproving glances. 

I want my husband to remember the days when I came home and kissed him first.  Instead of surveying the day's damage or launching into a list of what needs to be done that evening.  I want him to remember the times when I didn't jump out of bed at 5am to work out and instead stayed asleep just to be close to him...with just our toes touching...enjoying a few more minutes of togetherness even in slumber...in the midst of a week when we barely see each other in passing.  I want him to remember my support and encouragement.  And not my critique.

I want all my boys to see me handle situations with poise and temperance.  I want them to hear me speak truth and peace and love into their lives.  I want them to join me in learning valuable lessons of punctuality and respect.  :)  I want them to feel my thoughts and prayers supporting them through their most difficult days.  I want them to know.  Really know.  Know that I am truly happy to be the mom and wife and woman responsible for sharing life with these precious gifts - my four boys.

Sure, I still want to be the ME who gets us all out the door on time...but not at the expense of my joy-filled, amazingly-blessed life as a family. 

I want to be better.

The Sowing

Never look back unless you are planning to go that way.  At least that is what Thoreau said.

This is how I live.  Looking forward.  Striving ahead.  Pressing on.  It's just me.

I'm the kind of mom who looks forward to the next stage.  And the next.  As Sam drops movie one-liners into natural conversation and learns to read, I enjoy it.  I don't long for the terrible two's or horrible three's.  I enjoy where we are.  As the twins took their first steps this last weekend we shrieked with glee and twirled them in the air, anxiously awaiting the moments to come.  We didn't cry over a stage we've passed.

But somewhere inside of me, life and time and pregnancies and babies, the whole sum of my life has changed me.  I don't know how it happened.  Truly!  I ran from it.  I avoided it.  I've actually said out loud that I'm just not "that" mom.  But in the end I couldn't help it.  I am mush.  It comes at the oddest times, when I least expect it.  I see something or hear something.  Just a glimmer.  And I feel the stinging eyes, the blurred vision.  The urge to keep from crying.  And I realize in these moments that my rigid resolve and armor of steel is gone.  Mommyhood has stolen it from me.

A young boy with cancer passed away last week.  A friend posted on Facebook about their story, and before I could help myself I caught a glimpse of the last pictures his parents took with him - cradling his frail body and willing him to hold on as they cried.  Tears sprang to my eyes and I squeezed my boys extra hard that night and every night since.  This is a sad story for anyone.  But as a mom you just cannot even think about this situation without a tightness in your chest.

Today it happened again unexpectedly.  I read an article about memories and time and kids growing up.  Again, I've never been one to cling to the here and now.  I look FORWARD to what's ahead.  But today, just today, I made myself look back. 

I realized that I don't stop and acknowledge where I am enough.  I never fully appreciate what stage we are going through now and how truly great things are.  Before I know it, the memories have slipped into a fuzzy vault and I can't go back.

Time is working.  And I have to work to breathe.  My kids are growing up.  The twins are almost a year old.  We'll never have babies again (thank you VERY much vasectomy!)....and I'm good with that.  But it's hard to imagine a life without the expectation of experiencing this same young family life again with another kid down the road.  And living all the "firsts" that you never get back.

Time is working.  Do we stop and play enough?  Do we pray enough?  Do we read enough?  Do we walk enough and explore enough?  Do we pretend enough?  Do we cuddle and kiss and hug and snuggle and smile enough?  Borrowed from a blog....One shot.  One clear shot from birth till 18, and it's not ever really one stroke, but a thousand - well, about 6,570 daily putts...

Time is working.  So what do I do?  I quietly celebrate that Ben is not missing out.  Our kids are not missing out. Our family will be stronger because of the decisions we have made.  Thankfully Ben staying home directly resulted in me spending at least an hour more a day with my kids. An hour of time not stolen.  An hour of time I can make count.

I drove home from work today contemplating the concept of sowing and reaping. Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously (2 Corinthians 9:6). 

Do I apply this to my life?  Do I apply this to my parenting?  When I get frustrated with Sam for the 900th time, do I keep my cool and refrain from yelling?  When I calm a fussy, teething almost one-year-old (or two), do I hold them close a little longer?  When I wake up and go to sleep moving, feeding, changing diapers, guiding, teaching, training, and doing and being mommy without a second to stop do I acknowledge the honor of parenthood?  Do I put down that one more thing for myself or life and say I've got something better to do with my family? (Sara Groves reference here for those of you wondering!)  Do I?  Not enough. 

My discipline style is all about sowing and reaping.  I know that short term hard work and stress and gruel and frustration pays off in the end. I stay strong.  I don't waver.  I draw a line and don't compromise.  Hard work pays off in well-behaved, polite, respectful and happy kids.

But my daily life?  Do I spend time with my kids and husband like this?  Do I show my kids I love them like this? Do I live like sowing generously reaps generously?  Not enough.  But I need to. 

Time is working.  I'm not looking back, but I'm going to enjoy the sowing a little more each day.  And hope that the mush stays hidden behind my armor of steel. :)

The Man

There are moments in my life I look back on with such clarity it seems like it happened just minutes prior. Whether it has been stress, or stress....or stress...I have remembered many of those moments lately. The moment Ben told me he loved me and wanted to marry me, completely and utterly out of the blue. A rainy day in Mexico where we played cards for hours and just talked, with the huge windows open and the ocean breeze blowing in a fine misty spray. The worst snowstorm we endured in Michigan where Ben's beard was frozen from the thundersnow and we both spent 5 hours clearing the church parking lot only to have it coming down faster than we could keep up. The moment I looked down and saw the word, "Pregnant" for the very first time. And then, of course, the second time years later when the pink lines took my breath away....not even a remote thought in my head at that point that I would be bringing two bundles of joy into the world that next October. Many memories in my life with Ben have been delightful. :) Some not so much, of course, but that is marriage!

I reference my husband occasionally here but I've been feeling particularly thankful for him lately and find it appropriate now to explain why.

Ben and I have a relationship dynamic that can only be described as unique. We have always been friends first. Many people say that, but for us it is 100% true. We were friends. Close friends. For several years. Not a single word was spoken about anything romantic between us until the day Ben took a risk, shared his heart (basically meaning he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me!), and waited for my reaction. Yowzers. I am laughing now just remembering my "peppy Carrie" gleeful response of, "ME TOO!!!" So amazing to see how God weaved our lives together and continues to do so.

That conversation was followed quickly by an engagement and Ben promptly moving to Michigan without me! A few short months later, we said our "I Do's" and the rest is, so they say, history.

Sounds simple enough. But of course it never is.

Many times over the course of my nine year marriage I have been the subject of discussion. As you may have gathered, we are pretty conservative and our relationship with God is important to us. Our faith is the foundation of our lives, our marriage, our family and our home.

This is a touchy subject so I'll just cut to the chase. I'm not what most, in our circles at least, would see as a typical wife. What does that mean? I am opinionated. I am fiercely independent. I am frankly the insensitive, pants-wearing, steerer of the ship. Just the truth. Ben is the sensitive, caring, compassionate and quieter one.

I would not describe myself as a feminist, although I certainly have been known to chant out "Women power!" and wholeheartedly believe that a woman can and should be successful, smart and independent. Eeek, I know some of you are already whispering the word feminist! If you've read my blog at all I'm sure this revelation about myself isn't a surprise.

But I digress. This is supposed to be about Ben. So anyway, I've gotten a lot of grief in the 9 years of our marriage. I should say BEN has gotten a lot of grief. There's no way around it. We make decisions together. Ben just does not have a dominant personality....I do.

So where does that leave us? In our neck of the woods, this kind of relationship could be interpreted as wrong. Ben's favorite response (to me) when other people comment on our relationship dynamic is that people don't get it. They don't see what we see. What God saw. And sees. That together Ben and I compliment and complete each other. Our strengths are exactly each others weaknesses. What and who we are together is infinitely stronger than who we each were separately. And over the course of time, He appears to be chiseling away at our roles. My gavel is a little less loud and Ben's voice is a little louder!

But again, where does that leave us? When the word "submission" is voiced Ben and I just kind of look at each other and laugh. Not because I'm somehow bucking his authority. Not because he thinks I need to get in the kitchen, be barefoot and pregnant, etc (Good, by the way because I am D.O.N.E being a baby factory). No, not these reasons. We laugh because most important to Ben is the second clause of that submission verse. What the requirement is of the husband. To love the wife as Christ loved the church. Christ loved us so much he died for our sins. What greater love can there be? Man, we ladies lucked out I think. So I need to respect my husband, honor him, support him, listen to him and follow him? Check. That's easy. Submit to his leadership of our home? Again, check. But the best part is that you do both simultaneously and it becomes a little less, "Woman, make me some dinner" and a little more both people invested in each other for the benefit of the family. The guy isn't seeking only his best interests. So, again, it's pretty easy to follow and listen to a great man who is making decisions to benefit you and him together.

Maybe you disagree. And that's okay. Many people do. Honestly this is probably one of our biggest hurdles - the perception that other people have of our relationship.

That's why our most recent decision has been such a shock to many. But really, if you know us, not so much a shock after all.

Ben has decided to quit his job and stay home with the kids.

He is my hero. I couldn't do it. Both financially and mentally. We have been monitoring our finances for several months and it just became apparent that we are actually PAYING for Ben to work. Daycare is nearly $450 per week for all three kids between school and our part time nanny. Our options are limited. The decision was Ben's alone. I didn't pressure him. I didn't even tell him my opinion. It was one of the most difficult decisions we've ever made. Giving up employment at Drury just seems counterproductive. But we felt like this was the best choice for our family. And honestly we are happy. In the days after Ben gave notice we both realized we were already less stressed. Just knowing there is an end in sight to the craziness of shuttling kids, spending more time in the car then we do with our kids and racing endlessly from one thing to the next. Just insane. But there is a bright light at the end of the tunnel. And we can almost see it.

August 10 will be Ben's last day at Drury. We are so thankful to them. I cannot even explain how wonderful and patient both of our employers have been to us through this pregnancy, delivery, illnesses and tired days and just everything in between. We are just so thankful and blessed.

And thus begins a new chapter for us. Really, an entirely different life. Sam is going to Republic Pre-K part time and will be home with Ben part time. The twins will be home with Ben full time.

And boy, what an adjustment it will be.

I know we will get grief. I know there are those that think if the 'man' isn't providing then he isn't fulfilled and the marriage is doomed. I just disagree. Because Ben is providing. He is providing sanity. He is providing care. He is providing for our kids. (He also does work from home anyway already and will continue to do that for my dad's business so legitimately there will be real money coming in too). Our actual family income will go up due to eliminating double the gas, double the expenses of working and triple the daycare costs. It is a good thing.

But again, I know we will get grief. I am not a bad mom because I am working. Frankly I don't have a choice. I am the primary earner in the family and it's just the way things are. But even more than that, I want people to know that I truly admire Ben for the decision he has made. There are those that look at Ben and don't label him as the strong one in our family. But again, I disagree.

What is leadership? I did a Bible study some time ago, and when I am a part of conversations about spiritual leadership in the home and just the father role of leadership I am reminded of this passage. It is in Titus and discusses the character of leadership. My summarization: What is a leader? Someone with these qualities: Temperate, Self-controlled, Respectable, Hospitable, Able to teach, Not given to drunkenness, Not violent but gentle, Not quarrelsome, Not lover of money, Manages their family well, Children respect & obey, Good reputation with others, Sincere, Faithful, Blameless, Obedient, Not overbearing, Not quick-tempered, Not violent, Not pursuing dishonest gain, Loves what is good, Upright, Holy, Disciplined, and Focused on qualities of the heart.

Funny how these characteristics aren't regularly used to describe the "strong" men in our culture. A "man's man." That's okay with me. Friends, I hit the jackpot. There are not many qualities on that list that Ben doesn't excel at. He may not be as outspoken or demanding or authoritative. But none of those were on the list of true leadership. Instead he is compassionate, gentle and caring. He is calm. He is awesome.

I am one lucky gal. And so are my kids.

The Rubble

Toby & Gabe 8 months

Ben and I spent two entire hours today watching Big Bang Theory episodes while all three kids napped.  As we trekked upstairs and tended to the laundry, dishes, children and life that awaited us, I laughed and Ben said, "I feel it."  Ummm...okay.  What, dude?  He said it again, "I feel it.  We are getting there.  We are coming out of it. Coming out of the dark, unhappy place. Finally."  And I actually smiled in agreement.

Been trying to get into shape, which is a terrible battle I loathe, but I've found my times of running or bike riding lately have been overwhelming filled with one particular melody playing over and over in my head.  I've found that people either love her or hate her, but Sara Groves is one of my favorite artists, not just for her voice but mostly for her lyrics.  Less Like Scars has to be one of the most influential songs of my life, considering what we've been through here lately....or maybe even longer than lately. ;)

And so this post is short and sweet. I could mention the scary family vacation that we had to leave to get emergency medical care for Gabe, who ended up staying a few days in the hospital due to pneumonia again.  I could tell you about the trip we take Wednesday to St. Louis Children's Hospital to find out if there is a lung abnormality caused by prematurity that is leading to the poor little guy struggling to breathe after a small cold and runny nose.  I could tell you about the major life decisions we have made as a family that are going to be the most difficult and the most rewarding at the same time (another post coming on this one I promise).  I could tell you about work, church and family burdens weighing me down.  But instead for tonight, I'm just going to share this.  What has helped me emerge as ME.  Helped me to look past the negativity. Helped me to get my "Carrie" perspective back.  And the funny thing is, it didn't take a friend or my kids or even my husband to snap me out of it.  It just took time and God's persistent reminder as I tried to clear my head....that the storm brings rain for a reason....and maybe, just maybe, with the right perspective, we'll all come out of this just a little stronger.

It's been a hard year
But I'm climbing out of the rubble
These lessons are hard
Healing changes are subtle
But every day it's

Less like tearing, more like building
Less like captive, more like willing
Less like breakdown, more like surrender
Less like haunting, more like remember

And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like
Character

Less like a prison, more like my room
It's less like a casket, more like a womb
Less like dying, more like transcending
Less like fear, less like an ending

And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars

Just a little while ago
I couldn't feel the power or the hope
I couldn't cope, I couldn't feel a thing
Just a little while back
I was desperate, broken, laid out, hoping
You would come

And I need you
And I want you here
And I feel you

And I know you're here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad, bad situation
But you are able

And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars
And more like
Character.

The Hiatus

Down. Discouraged. Tired. Stressed. Weary. All words that can unfortunately be used to describe my mood the past week. Or month. Okay, okay....the past few months. In case you haven't noticed, I've taken a hiatus from the blogging world.

To be gut level honest with you all (and when I say "all" I really mean my mom because I'm pretty sure she's the only one who is periodically checking to see if I've posted anything new since it has been so long...) I haven't written because I simply haven't wanted to write what was in my head. Writing brings my thoughts to life and affirms what is really going on inside. Writing, for me, is a way of working through things and keeping the positivity. It is my therapy of sorts. It is the way I flesh out everything that I'm dealing with and organize it into a positive thought or idea. It's a way for me to make sense of the craziness and remain positive. Do you see a theme here? All positive. But writing also is truthful. It is my life and who I am. And I just haven't felt much like digging too far to see what was inside there for a while. Not feeling very positive and not really wanting to share that I wasn't feeling very positive.

Before I sat down to write this I read my last post from mid-April - about setting my weight goal (which by the way I didn't get to see myself hit because our basement flooded and I lost the Wii for a month and by the time I got it back I had a sinus infection and had to go on strong antibiotics and stop pumping, thus gaining the few pounds I lost for my birthday....sigh). Anyway, I read the last post and I was still channeling positive, peppy Carrie. Still myself.

And them somewhere along the line I stopped being able to conjure up a genuine positive mantra after the end of a long day...and a long week...and endless strings of long days and long weeks. No good. If you know me (why do I always say that because really why would you be reading this if you didn't know me...I am not that cool or interesting!!??!!!) ...so if you know me...you know that I am positive. It is that simple, really. And to be Carrie but NOT be positive? It's not a pretty picture. Just ask my husband. Or my sister. Or the many people who have seen me grumpy in the last two months. HAHA.

I wouldn't pretend to know what it is like to battle clinical depression. I wouldn't pretend to know what true post-partum blues feel like. But I can say with absolute certainty that I do not know another time in my life where I have faced such a heavy burden without my normal cheery nature. Like a cloud over my mood where no sunshine breaks through. And that's just sad.

I could write about the wonderful blessings I have been given in my three kids. I could tell you that the twins are amazing bundles of energy and full of smiles and personality. I could shriek with happiness that the babies are finally, finally, FINALLY sleeping through the night. I could go on and on about the tender-hearted four year old who is growing up so fast, stepping up as the playful and helpful big brother that we knew he would be. I could write about how amazing my husband has been with never tiring and never stopping and never failing to live this crazy life with me and my less than stellar mood lately. I could describe how I felt to cross the finish line when I ran my first ever 5K recently. I could write about how thankful I am that my sister is still making it work, living here to help out (without a cozy home or a bathroom for much of the last two months). I could write about my parents...I am literally tearing up as I even type this...without whom I would not be able to sustain my family or continue on...they have been so tremendous beyond words and provide what I feel incapable of asking for. I could write. I could. But for today I'm not. I'm going to write what's been on my heart....which is NOT (much to my dismay) positive. It is instead a wistful and weary recognition that my life is totally and completely overwhelming.

There I said it. I equate my life right now to drowning. I am swimming frantically, barely able to keep my head above water. Barely making it...surviving by thrashing my legs in an angry tread and forcing my lungs to get that air for another day....and then every so often I'm dunked. Completely under. And I come up sputtering and gasping for air and try to tread water yet again. It has been a basement flood. And illness. And financial strain. And car trouble. And more basement flood. And more car trouble. And more. And more. And more. Just when I think it cannot possibly get any worse I find myself dunked again. SIGH.

Perhaps the hardest part of all of this for me has been a loneliness I cannot describe. By very nature I'm not one to need others. I get through things. I'm the one that people know if they can't get to or call back or stay in touch with that I will be the one that is okay. The one that isn't needy. The one that you don't worry about really truly needing you because they put on their happy face and push through. It's okay. It's by my own design. I don't WANT to need other people!! But this self-sufficiency really backfires sometimes. Like lately. Dangit, there are times I just need to be needy and have that just be okay and have those people rush in and save the day because I really need it.....

So why now? Why decide to write now? Why depress you all with this dark version of Carrie you all probably hoped didn't exist? Believe it or not because I'm tired of it. I'm just tired. I am in a funk. A bad one. I can't seem to shake it and some days I just don't even care...yikes that is scary! I realize at work this probably doesn't show much. I may be a tad more cynical but for the most part my work requires an attitude of positivity. And so I deliver. Day after day. For 40ish hours. And then I come home. And unleash the beast...hahahahaha. Okay, I was getting kind of really dark there and I had to lighten it up a bit. But seriously I bet Ben would describe it like that. I am not always a nice person to be around right now. Thank you family for putting up with me!!!

I'm writing in hopes that getting this out on paper (errrr....computer screen) will help me begin to overcome. Help give me a boost. Help get out the negativity and start turning things around. I realized that something had to change this weekend. I spent the weekend doing things that would normally make me thrilled...finishing a book, being super productive, getting some actual down time, etc. All of it....still brooding Carrie. BLAH. So sick of it. Then Sunday morning at church I loved the message. All about David and how he firmly trusted God. Knew that God would provide and deliver and that His God was infinitely stronger and better than anything that came his way. Our associate pastor who was preaching made a quick comment that rattled me for probably the first time in two months of this crazy haze I've been in....he said, "Every time my wife and I are faced with stress or difficulty or a situation we have no idea how we are going to deal with we get out our list. Our list of the blessings. Of the times when God provided food and life and health, etc. And we know that despite the scary situation we are in, God has done it before and will do it again. And we are still scared. But we trust." I left church thinking all day, "Where is my trust?" I know it. I know better than I ever could have imagined how much God has provided for me and the numerous blessings he has given me. Some days though, it's easy to forget that. And I guess I have. Even still, knowing that....it's hard. It's hard to be positive. It may not be a mark of high faith, but I do believe it is the mark of humanity. Life is just pretty hard sometimes. And while we know what we should feel and think and believe...it's not always that easy to live out. But we have to keep pressing on. And I guess that's what I've been struggling with.

I spent the evening last night with a good friend who had a baby less than a week ago. As we talked breastfeeding challenges and newborn crying I had an overwhelming flood of (GASP, SHOCK, HORROR) positivity. Genuine positivity. I came home and found Ben downstairs watching TV. I laid down on the couch next to where he sat, closed my eyes and grabbed his hand and just sighed. I laughed a little and said, "Well, baby....it doesn't feel like it. It really doesn't. But we've made it. We are out of the newborn baby craziness. Do you remember what it was like? We really have made it through." It was the perfect reminder.

It hasn't slowed down. It hasn't really gotten easier...just new challenges like corralling the mobile infants and dodging carrots spitting from babies' mouths. There's not much that I can truly say is going good right now.

But still. At the end of the day. At the end of the week. At the end of the month...or two. We're still here. We are still surviving. We may be desperately treading water. We may be sputtering a bit after a quick dunk from time to time. But you know what? Our muscles are growing after swimming so long. And our lungs are holding more and more air than we ever thought possible. We're getting stronger.

And we aren't dead yet.

Hey! I just found something to be positive about.... :)

The Goal

I like goals. Not news to many. It's pretty much my thing.

As an example I made a list 20 lines long on Friday night. Sam spent the weekend in STL for a little one-on-one attention time with the grandparents and I knew we needed to take advantage of the baby naps to get some things accomplished. How thrilled was I to discover last night before crashing that all but 2 things were checked off!

Goals are great. A guide. A marker. A milestone to reach.

That's why when I subconsciously set a sleep goal many moons ago I thought surely by 6 months old, these babies would be drifting into la la land and staying there for the standard 10-12 hours a night. Not so much. One week away from having 6 month old twins and I am still only getting about 6 hours of sleep a night. Ouch. They normally wake once...or twice. And the occasional 10 times a night (oy vey!)

And so....since my sleep goals have died a painfully slow unmerciful death, I have restored this weekend to set another goal. 20 days until I turn 30. 2.9 pounds to lose and I will officially be back to my pre-twins weight. I really want to make it by my birthday, and I figure posting it on here will at least force me to think twice...or three or four times...before downing the cupcakes. Or candy. Or muffins. Eeek. I love food.

I started my Saturday off with a 3am wake up call followed by four hours of baby crying and after the first morning feeding I headed off to the gym for really the first time in almost a year. I quit my membership last March when I found out I was pregnant but I really need to do some hard core cardio to whip away those last 3 pounds. So to the non-membership freely accessible indoor track I go. Proud to say I ran a whole mile! I couldn't believe how great it felt. I am not a runner. Never liked it. But in college I ran a daily 5-10K. Seriously. I look back on that time (and my 115lb physique along with a size 2 wardrobe) with disbelief. I don't know how I did it. I certainly don't have the time to devote to that kind of exercise now. And I had much more food resolve then. Why? Who knows.

I am never going to be 115lb again. I'm okay with that. I'm going for a solid 130. Yes, that's right. I just did it. Committed the No No. I said my goal weight out loud. So if you are keeping track that is 130 by 30. Ironically I'm sitting at 133. Which is good! Don't get me wrong. This is my exact weight before I got pregnant with Sam pretty much exactly 5 years ago. Not too shabby after having three kids! BUT. I was 130 on the dot before becoming a cooker for two babies. And I want to get there again. Heck, even a little lower than that would be nice. Never again will I see below 125 I'm thinking....I can't sacrifice my sweets.

Hardest part for me in this goal is not snacking on crap food. Since I went back to work, I've tried to be consistent about taking my lunches. Wraps or PB&J are on the menu most days, and I think if I really stick to that for the next few weeks I can do this! So, please say a prayer and do a cheer.

I had several goals to reach before I was 30 and I might actually shed some happy tears if I can make this particular one happen in 20 days. And yes, this does mean I will be pigging out on May 8....what else are birthdays for???