Josh and Brittany Are Different: A Mostly True Tale

Once upon a time there was an extremely attractive and vivacious married couple named Josh and Brittany. They had an eight-month-old son named Tiny Baby, who was very advanced and clever. Josh and Brittany are very different. 

One day Josh and Brittany experience a lot of stress because being an adult is hard and neither of them really want to be one. This is because they are both the youngest child in their families. This results in a lot of arguments about who has to get out of bed to turn off the light. King Baby, being the first born, knows this task will eventually fall to him as soon as he learns to walk and yield a broom handle. He has accepted this eventuality. 

Brittany and Josh handle stress differently. They are very stressed but are having friends over for dinner. Josh tells Brittany that they should keep dinner simple and just enjoy their friends. He suggests spaghetti for dinner. Brittany agrees and rejoices at the wisdom of Josh. Josh is happy. Brittany is happy. King Baby is happy. 

Brittany and King Baby go to the grocery store to buy things to make spaghetti. She is happy.  is happy. Brittany arrives on the pasta aisle and is displeased at the selection. She is really displeased at the stress currently in her life. She directs this emotion at the spaghetti and it's lack of creativity. Tiny Baby feels the first stirrings of unease in his soul. He is very advanced.  Brittany decides that her culinary skills demand a greater challenge than spaghetti. She moves on. Tiny Baby rolls his eyes. Again, he is very advanced. 

Brittany leaves the grocery store pleased. She has decided to make Indian food complete with homemade naan. Tiny Baby feels trepidation as he goes down for his nap. Tiny Baby has dreams about the day of his birth due to the sounds of strain coming from the kitchen. He is troubled. 

Josh comes home thinking that all is well and that his wife is making spaghetti. He opens the door and frowns to find the living room still cluttered with Brittany's organizational project that she started earlier in the week. He walks into the kitchen and sees Tiny Baby covered in flour. Brittany is kneading bread in a fit of manic domestic bliss. 

Josh is irritated that Brittany wants him to clean up while she cooks. Brittany is irritated that Josh is not laying prostrate in awe of her culinary mastery. They fight. Tiny Baby is still covered in flour but has found a bag of strawberry flavored yogurt melts and is pleased.  Brittany cries. Josh is overwhelmed. They say sorry, kiss, and eat something vaguely resembling naan that is somehow both burnt and doughy. They then shove everything in the baby's room and welcome their unsuspecting friends into their messy home. 

Afterwards, they argue about who has to do the dishes. Josh looses because he's closer. 

The End.

How to Piss Off Your Teething Baby in 5 Easy Steps

1. Take longer than 2 seconds from baby's first cry to you stumbling half-asleep to his aid. 

2. Then have the AUDACITY to change his diaper. 

3. Somehow offend further by trying to make a bottle one handed while baby screams in your face and a small, slobbery fist beats against your chest. But only one fist because you're currently transitioning out of swaddling and you're stuck in the one-arm-out stage. 

4. Outrage your child by flinching away when the baby bites your cheek with his newly cut, and surprisingly sharp teeth. Bonus points if you try to stop making the bottle to wipe away spit (or blood??). 

5. When baby falls back to sleep in your arms while feeding have the absolutely insane idea that you might be able to lay baby back in his crib. When he wakes, feel his wrath which he is channeling from a thousand Nordic gods. 

Repeat until teeth have been fully cut. 

What Post-Partum Anxiety Really Looks Like

Do you wanna know? Do you really want to know? Cause it's not pretty. It's probably the most un-pretty, terrifying and humbling thing that's ever happened to me (and yes, I'm counting childbirth and 8 months of vaginal physical therapy- but hat's a story for another day. Don't ask. Or do. Whatever.)

It looks like this:

Your husband calling into work because your skin feels like it's burning off and you can't calm down even to hold your child.

It looks like your mom coming up to take you to the doctor because you can't calm down no matter how hard you try.

It looks like medication.

It looks like having to go home with your parents because you just can't handle what's happening to you.

It looks like them setting up a crib in their bedroom for your little one.

It looks out of control.

It looks like a third sleepless night in a row.

It looks like your dad rubbing your feet and your mom dousing you in lavender oil.

It looks like your parents laying in bed with their adult daughter as she sobs uncontrollably and exchanging worried looks that they think she can't see. She can.

It looks like a 3am ER trip with your dad for shots in both butt-checks because you haven't slept in nearly 72 hours.

It looks like panic attacks every. single. day. Multiple times a day.

It looks like more medication.

It looks like parents, grandparents and friends coming to take care of you.

It looks like guilt and shame that you can't take care of your baby.

It looks like defeat.

It looks like your mom making a battle plan with you each day.

It looks like your mom sleeping on the couch because you just can't quite do it alone yet.

It looks like EVEN more medication.

It looks like flowers, chocolates, and shopping with a friend.

It looks like tips from your sister who totally gets it.

It looks like friends who keep checking in and are praying.

It looks like your husband putting the baby to bed because your anxiety has somehow wrapped it's self around your child's ability to go to sleep.

It looks like loving your baby the best way you can.

It looks like your grandpa buying you a mood ring smily face to remind you that he loves you.

It looks like trips to Ikea with your father-in-law to buy furniture.

It looks like more medication, a psychiatrist referral and a counseling appointment.

It looks like still freezing up when your baby cries or someone asks you a question that you just can't wrap your mind around.

It looks like a friend driving your car because of the medication you're on.

It looks like your grandma watching the baby while you make her a tie-dyed cake.

It looks like your grandpa driving you out for ice-cream in his 1950's classic car.

It looks like sweet notes from your sister-in-law.

It looks like trusting God that it will all get better.

It looks like it's a little better every day.

It mostly looks like love, acceptance and grace.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, to every single one of you who have been here for Josh and I during the last few weeks. It has been amazing that I can feel so awful and so loved at the same time.

A Decade

Josh and I in high school, looking classy 2009ish

Today is the ten year anniversary of Josh and I dating. That's a decade. That's 40% of my life in total. Which is weird to think about. We started dating at 14 and 15 respectively (I'm a year older) which I guess makes us high school sweethearts.

My senior year, circa 2008

I really don't like that phrase, "high school sweethearts", because it seems to be used synonymously with "married young" and "doomed".  And though we did marry young (20 and 21 respectively) I reject the stereotype that this means we're doomed. But I understand the kernel of truth this stereotype starts from. It's just people don't stay the same, especially 14-year-olds. I really doubt anyone would contest that idea. Adults are drastically different than they were as teenagers. I would even go so far as to say that the decade spanning 14 to 24 encompasses some of the most striking changes a person goes through in life.

Josh and I during our engagement photo session, 2010ish

So I suppose it's not so hard to imagine why a relationship built in the 9th grade would fall apart shortly after graduation.

But mine didn't. It came pretty close sometimes but we made it work. And I'm so so so glad we did but I'll be honest, I don't love my husband for things that attracted me to him in the 9th grade because those things aren't attractive to me anymore. Most of the reasons I was drawn to him where pretty shallow anyway (Have you seen how big and brown his eyes are??). When we met I was enamored with his bubbling energy, ability to command a crowd and teasingly playful attitude. He was often the center of our group of friends. Some of these traits have survived the years but, while I enjoy them, I can't say that I call those things the glue that binds.

But I do find him attractive.

Our wedding day, circa 2011

Because, just as he has changed, my tastes have changed as well. And I decided when we got married and for several years before that, that I wouldn't allow my eyes to wonder. I refused to compare him to another man. I find grown-up Josh attractive, in part, because I wouldn't let myself pay attention to anyone else. And because, well, he's awesome! My tastes my have changed but they are still satisfied by him. But that didn't happen by accident. It took work and force of mind.

But that's not to say that I'm not also just totally enamored with him.

Expecting Tiny Baby

If the past ten years had suddenly been erased and I met Josh for the first time this year, would he stand out to me? Would I be drawn to him like I was in high school? Yes. I really would be. I would see his quite strength, his kindness and compassionate notice of the overlooked person. I would see that he didn't need to be the center of my group of friend for him to keep me focused on him. I would notice that his laugh consumes his whole body and is so contagious. I would see a man of strong faith who would not let his wife or family stray from God's path. Not to mention the whole 6ft of tall, dark and handsome that is my husband. And yes, those big brown eyes still slay me.

Josh doing a bible study on our honeymoon

I read somewhere that it's normal for couples to hit a low point every 7-10 years where they look at their spouse and realize they don't connect as well anymore. We hit that. We found new wonderful things in each other to love. I can't wait to read this at 35-years-old and reflect on what I love about Josh at that moment. I guarantee it will be different with just the right amount of  sameness thrown in.  That's what makes this such an adventure.

Proverbs 30:18-19
There are three things that amaze me—
no, four things that I don’t understand:
how an eagle glides through the sky,
how a snake slithers on a rock,
how a ship navigates the ocean,
how a man loves a woman. (NLT)

5 Blog/Vlogs We Should Stop Reading Right Now

This post is nonsense. But a little nonsense is good on a Friday.

I've been reading A LOT of blogs recently to educate myself on the world that I just entered. The blogging/Vlogging world that is. And here's my conclusion; a whole lot of people think you're stupid.

That's right, you heard me. There are a whole big bunch of websites out there that think if their title falls into one of the five categories below then you will be irresistibly drawn to them. Like a moth to flame, you will be powerless to resist. But you're smart. I know that, you know that, so why do these work? Let's make them work a little harder to sell ad space to celebritiesbutts.com.

But seriously, not a day goes by that I don't find myself scrolling past these 5 blogs/Vlogs on my Facebook newsfeed. They're blatantly click-bait and I dislike them immensely and we should all stop clicking on them.

1. "_____Number of Things That All Successful Couples Do."

This one really irks me. First of all, there is always a picture of an extremely young couple on a bed in their underwear. I can't help but think, "you've been married like two seconds. Shut up." I don't want someone two miles into a marathon telling me about endurance. I want advice from the person cruising over the finish line. Where are the blogs by couples who have been married 50+ years? That's the one I would read. And another thing. Why are they always in bed in their underwear? Is that all it takes to be successful in love? Because if it is, I'm in. Josh and I will now be living in our bed. Please bring us food. And our baby. And a bathroom. And someone to remove Josh's body after I kill him. I'm assuming I'll kill him before he kills me because I once had a philosophy teacher tell me I was capable of murder in front of our class and it was strangely refreshing. My first thought was, "Ah, yes. Someone finally sees past my size to my true potential." All I need is to be trapped in a 9ftx4.5ft space for that crazy to leak out. And to be perpetually in my underwear. 

2.  "____Number of  Things They didn't Tell Me About_____"

Pregnancy. Marriage. College. Your first interview. There is always a blog about all the things "they" never tell you about a random life event. Who is "they"? How are "they" failing you so horribly? Oh, so you weren't totally prepared for that brand new thing you've never experienced before? That's awful. "They" really suck. 

3. "They Just Did Something Weird and What Happens Next Is Amazing."

The thing is- this works on me. It totally does. I want to see what happens when that guy puts his mail in the microwave or what an egg looks like cracked underwater. I don't want to click on the link and allow you to sell more adds but I do. And then it makes me mad because there are so many buttons that say 'play' but actually take you to different pages and I never actually get to see the world's largest catfish. 

4. "The Judges on This Talent Show Didn't Care But What Happened Next Is Amazing"

I realize that this is very similar to #3 but the sheer number of these posts out there made me make it it's own category. Normally these involve young children which makes me cringe even more. Do we really need more Justin Biebers? Cause that's how you get a Justin Bieber. However, there is one exception to this category. I saw a video once of this kinda heavy set teenage guy singing opera with this pretty blonde teenage girl. And she was okayish but he was remarkable so the judges were all like, "ditch the chick and you'll go far". But he was all like, "No, she gives me courage to do this and I also love her". And you could tell she had no idea, and the audience and judges went crazy, and I was just like, "wow, he straight-up Peeta Melarked it". THAT was genuinely amazing. 

5. "I'm Going To Title My Blog Post With A Controversial Statement But My Post Will Explain Why I Don't Actually Believe That Statement."

Example: "Why I'm Not Going To Stay Pure Until Marriage." written by a Christian author who then goes on to explain how they won't lose their purity by having sex after they're married so they aren't technically staying pure until marriage as they will still be pure after marriage. Thank you for that insight. It's interesting. But your title is misleading and was clever the first time but now EVERYONE does it so please stop.  

So, there you go. Let's stop clicking on these gimmicky blogs and maybe the authors will put more effort into getting you to their site. Maybe. 

I'm still upset about that catfish. That thing looked huge. 

The Five Stages of Tummy Time

1. Denial

 "What? Why?"

2. Anger

"You. Are. The. Worst."

3. Bargaining 

"Momma, Please No!"

4. Depression

"Everything is terrible."

5. Acceptance

"This is my life now."

Dear 2 Month Old Baby

Dear Tiny Baby,

You are now two months old and, oh my goodness, do I love you. I wish I would have written to you when you were born and then again at 1 month but I was way too exhausted learning to be your mamma. See how easily regret slips in? I'm so scared that I'm going to forget all of your wonderful moments, sweet baby and so I'm going to write them all in a letter. It's a letter to you, and I hope you read them one day, but it's mostly for me.

So, 2 months. In some ways you still seem like such a stranger to me, tiny baby. Though, I've never met a stranger that I've loved more...or one that I've let drool all over my shoulder at 3 am because that's the only way they'll sleep.  But anyway, you've changed so much already! And each change comes with a thrill but also a sharp string as I watch you evolve from a swollen, sleepy, squishy newborn to the squirmy, talkative (mostly of the screeching variety), loving 2 month old. And did I mention chill? Because as long as you don't need to be changed, fed or put to sleep you hardly ever cry (except for during your 6 week growth spurt-nothing made you happy then).

"Whatever Mom, you just do your thing."

Okay, so here are your "firsts" this month.

This month you smiled for the first time. I thought I might die from the sheer adoration that flooded my heart. You have your Dad's dimples which made me so happy. I knew he would show up in your face eventually but otherwise you are all me.

You rolled onto your side on Super Bowl Sunday. Your Dad and I were snowed in and are too poor (read cheap) to pay for cable so we missed the big game. But you wouldn't know it by the cheering that came from our living room every time you rolled. Best Super Bowl ever.

You also had your first cold. Which sucked. I think for me more than you but there were tears all around.

We dedicated you in church at 6 weeks. It was amazing to hear our community claim ownership in your life. You are already so loved and you won them over further by your show-stopping antics. Already you're one of the funniest people I have ever met.

(Getting ready for your dedication)

Tiny Baby celebrating life

You are teaching me so much about God's love, tiny human. I have never loved someone for simply existing but, oh, do I love you for nothing more. It floors me that this doesn't hold a candle to how much God loves me (and you)! I'm excited to see what this next month holds for you!

Limping

So this post is not so fun to write. It's also not so fun to think about people reading it. But I think it's important to be transparent about how hard motherhood is and how moms and dads fall short of perfection over and over and over again.

I went into being a mom naively thinking that some things that I've always struggled with would suddenly be easier as soon as that double line showed up on my pregnancy test. For example, I thought I would be braver when it came to medical producers because I would be thinking of my baby. I'm not. I'm still a huge wimp about it to be honest.  I break into a cold sweat every time I hear the snap of plastic gloves.

Granted I've only been a mom for 10 months (I'm counting pregnancy because if someone believes that the trials of motherhood don't start during pregnancy they're very mistaken) and I know that you constantly grow and evolve but I'm still surprised by how the same I am. It's like motherhood didn't grow out of me so much but became a new part of me. It's like I added an addition onto my proverbial house. It's a huge, game changing addition (like a new kitchen) but the building is still the same. It still has the same leaky pipes and scratched up floors. A new kitchen didn't make leaky pipes go away.  You still are going to get a flooded basement no matter how awesome and wonderful your new kitchen is. Does that make sense?

The addition of motherhood hasn't made my anxiety disorder go away.

(This is a picture of me on a particularly bad anxiety day. You might not be able to tell from my face, but there is a whole mess of turbulent emotion going on.)

And really, I didn't think it would. That seems too foolish, even to an optimist like me. But I did think that I would somehow be able to handle it differently. I thought that I would be able to power through the anxious days without tears or panic because I was a mom and that stuff just doesn't stand.  And I think that will happen eventually, God willing. But it hasn't come naturally or easily. In fact, the it has been harder than its been in years.

This round of anxiety has been especially rough for four reasons. One, my old coping mechanisms are totally not going to work. I can't withdrawal and watch a movie or nap on really bad days. I can't take medication even if I wanted to because I'm breastfeeding. I can't just do some art work or binge on Netflix. Two, I am severely sleep deprived. Sleep Deprivation has always been a trigger for me and I have NEVER been so tired in my entire life. Three, hormones. Hormones, hormones, hormones, hormones. Hormones that will, with time, even out. And four, I'm a new mom. 'Nuff said really. If there is ever a time in your life that produces waves of core rocking anxiety it is during birth of your first child.

So I'm still struggling. It's the same panic-inducing anxiety that I've had periodic battles with my whole life. I've averaged about one bad day a week since Tiny Baby's birth, except for Week Three. Week Three can pretty much go to Hell. Everyday was a bad day. Let's not talk to or about Week Three because it was pretty much the worst. Week Three can bite me.

Now, I'm going to totally contradict pretty much my whole premise up to this point. Because, while I have the same problems, I am not the same. I have an addition. A adorable, adorable addition, weighing about 9 lbs and is pushing 24 inches long. An addition who really needs me. All. The. Time. And what's really, to the bottom of my heart, terrifying is that he already recognizes when his momma is losing it.   He cries harder and louder when he feel the tension in my arms. He smiles less on the days that are hardest for me. As much as I try to stuff down the anxiety, it bleeds through and I HATE that. It breaks my heart in a way that is alien in it's intensity. I have never wanted to shield a person from my problems more but he is in the direct fallout. And no matter how much I try to smile more or give more kisses he somehow already senses my unease.

Sometime during high school a book became popular in my church called "Leading with a Limp" by Dan B. Allender (you can buy it here). I read it at the time but it didn't truly resonate with me until now. To summarize quickly, Dr. Allender writes that weakness is one of your strongest assets in leadership. When you allow those you lead to see how you're broken they more easily see how God has made you whole.

Do you know what Kintsugi is? It's the ancient Japanese practice of fixing broken pottery with lacquer mixed with precious metals such as gold.  By repairing the break in such a way it becomes a part of the object's history. It is impossible to look at the object and not see the break but it has also been made more beautiful, more precious because of it.

(An example of Kintsugi. Source)

I feel like this bowl sometimes. I feel like I've been shattered and God has painstakingly glued me back together using the blood of Christ. My story has been made infinitely more beautiful because of it. And that story will, hopefully and only if I'm honest, teach those whom God has put me in charge of; namely my children. 

So my new cooping mechanism has been the healthiest yet -constant and uninhibited prayer. I have never prayed like I have in the past two months, prayed like it's truly a lifeline and not just a discipline. On the bad days, I've found myself chewing my bottom lip (an anxiety warning sign to my husband if there ever was one), laying on the floor next to my little one and crying out to the Lord. Actually, the crying out is oddly familiar. It very much reminds me of how my tiny baby cries out to me. This is healthiest way to cope, like I said, but it is also the most uncomfortable. It's not instantly distracting or comforting but it is lasting in a way I've never experienced. It fills me and sustains.  For the first time I feel like I can see a horizon that's totally and anxiety free. It will just take time. Put I also know that I will always have a limp, a fatal flaw if you will. A crack that God can make beautiful. 

And there is always grace. God has grace for my me in all my shortcomings, not just in parenting, and I hope my son will have grace for me as well.  All parents screw their kids up somehow and I know my kid is no exception.  I just trust that God has provision to heal the hurt I will inevitable cause Tiny Baby. Just like God's love healed the hurt I endured from my parents, and the hurt they endured from their parents and back and back and back, all the way to Adam and Eve.

But until that time when all hurt has been healed and that cycle has been broken, I will pray ardently and without ceasing. I will not try to hid my cracks from the people who can benefit from them. It's the only thing that has truly felt like freedom.

"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

The Little Blog That Could...Or Couldn't....Or Whatever.

Have you ever had a sticky thought? One that just wouldn't leave you alone no matter what you were doing? It would pop up despite the activity, despite how exhausted you are, or distracted, or both (can you say newborn?).  Well, I have a sticky thought.

It would itch sometimes. Sometimes while I was eating Oreos perfectly balanced on my huge pregnant belly and, later, as I was sitting up late nursing my sweet baby boy. It just itched and wouldn't stop itching and that's what brought me here. Because my sticky thought was, "Maybe you should write a blog."

And I blame all of you.

Not that anyone will read this. I'm pretty positive that I can count on exactly one reader outside of my husband (Hi Mom!). But I'm really not saying that to garner pity or *shudder* readers. I'm just not really sure why anyone would want to read this blog. And I'm not sure I want anyone to read this blog. But I'm also not sure I'm okay with anyone not reading this blog. I want it to be widely and wildly successful or to die a quiet death in totally obscurity. There can be no in-between with me and that sucks because it's totally not up to me. Which is part of the reason why I fought the itch so long.

Full disclosure: I've always been really judgmental of bloggers, especially mommy bloggers. I scoffed and scorned (and sinned) because of some deep down insecurity of my own that told me that if I couldn't be raw and real on a forum that opened me up to so much scrutiny, how dare someone else be so bold. So, yeah, I'm despicable.

And a hypocrite.

Because here I am. Blogging. Mommy Blogging. 

Because you better believe this blog will be chalked full of my kid (which is why my mom will read this. You know it's true Mom, don't lie).

And it's all because of you.

You all put this sticky thought into my head with your Facebook comments and your real life suggestions and your...general interest in what I have to say which really freaking weirds me out.

And tonight that thought itched so badly that I couldn't sleep. Despite my 7 week old going to bed at 9:30pm which he has never done. And I guess the real reason is because this itchy, sticky thought that just wouldn't quit began to feel like God.

It began to feel like God saying, "Damn your pride and just give into something that you can't control. Something that you can't control how it makes people view you or who views it. I want you to write those things that you're scared to say because I'm tired of you hiding. It's pride and it's sin." Plus, I kinda think God likes me and wants whats best for me and this might be it.

Also, that quote was obviously paraphrased.

I tried telling God that I couldn't write a blog because I'm still not sure about the correct usage of its, it's and its' but he didn't listen.

So I'm not sure what this blog will be. It might be a little raw, a little awkward and a little humorous. But let's be real, this might be the only post I ever write. Which irks me to no end. But that's okay. I'm giving in. I'm scratching that itch.

So this is The Little Blog That Could...Or Couldn't....Or Whatever.



Oh and here's a baby pic just for you Mom.