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A Non-Comprehensive List of Things That Have Happened Since 2016

Sooo before last week, it had been a long-@ss time since Emily or I had blogged. I explained why in that post, SO GO READ IT. (Please.)

I’ll wait.

So anyhoo, here’s what you need to catch up on,

  • I went from part time to full time at my job, because I am an insane person and ignored the advice I gave Emily for years.
  • Joshua (mine) and Kate (Emily’s) both turned into TEENAGERS and they are both TALLER THAN I AM and it’s NOT OKAY. They’re both now 14. Also not ok.
  • Kate looks like a freaking model, SUPER NOT OKAY. Gah. At least have the decency to look like an awkward teenager.
  • Kate also loves makeup, hair, and mirrors, so she’s basically more like my kid than Emily’s and this THRILLS ME TO NO END (payback for all those eye rolls at me, cousin!!)
  • Joshua, at 14, no longer adores me like he did at 4. Very not okay.
  • Sammy (Emily’s) just turned 10. The only one remaining in single digits is Jonah (mine).
  • My left eyeball decided it wouldn’t tolerate contact lenses anymore so I got glasses. Which made Sophie (mine), who is now eleven, and I look alike, which is a development I AM on board with!
  • My nephew Drew won the world championships in Pyraminx again in PARIS freaking France, and broke the world record at the same time. It was pretty epic.
  • In other nephew news, my brother Andy & his wife did me a solid adopted a 2-year-old named Jayce, and I am in loooooove with him! #fanaunt
  • Jonah, despite my fervent prayers, continues to have some developmental issues, so we’ve had him at the Brain Balance Center since December 3 hours a week. He is doing SO AWESOME. He’ll be done in June. It’s the best money we’ve ever spent. I mean besides Christian school and speech therapy.
  • Also, Jonah is the MOST FUN KID EVER and I want to FREEZE TIME right now because he’s so fun!
  • I started selling MONAT hair care, because it’s amazeballs and you should totes buy some from me. I started using it because my freaking hairline was receding and that is MAJORLY NOT OK! Fortunately Monat fixed that and now it’s growing back in nicely! TO check it out you can join my FB group where I do lots of ridiculous hair and makeup product testing (anyone can join) or check out my MONAT website here. Or, comment and and ask me about it. I won’t get all salesy and weird on you.
  • I turned 40 and my friend and family brought me like 500 cans of Mountain Dew, which is totally cool, and Emily did NOT turn 40 which is SUPER LAME. She continues to fulfill her role as “whippersnapper” in my life.
  • Emily went to Europe without me, which is STUPID. In her defense she DID ask me to go with her, but she DIDN’T offer to pay for it, soooo…
  • Emily got promoted at her job to Vice President of Everything Awesome and she pretty much runs the place. Also, people are VERY afraid of her. And her office smells of mahogany and leather-bound books.
  • Also, Emily’s husband and I dressed the same accidentally on Halloween this year.  It’s not weird!
  • (Please note: Emily looks like she actually LIKES ME in this photo because she had wine for trick-or-treat. True story.)
  • Some other not-super-fun stuff happened to but we’ll save that for a serious post or two.
  • Both of our husbands keep continually agreeing to staying married to us, which is kind of great (but really who would want to leave THIS?)

And now you’re all caught up! Stick with us, we’re bringing sexy funny back, I swear!

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Dear Children, I Want You to Fail. Love, Mom

Note: This post was originally published on For Every Mom. I wanted to post it here first, but apparently after you neglect your blog for 3 months, it breaks! So we had to have it fixed yesterday. Oops.

***
Recently Sophie and Joshua have become enamored with cooking shows, so thanks to Netflix and Hulu we’ve been watching Chopped, Cupcake Wars, and Master Chef Junior. I’ve never watched these before, but we’re enjoying them, PLUS I’m learning a lot about weird food I’ll never cook.  But, as I’ve watched and bonded with my kids over these shows, I’ve noticed a phrase that the cooking competitors say over and over again. I’ve heard it many times before in all sorts of contexts, but since we’ve been binge-watching these cooking shows, my kids and I have heard these 5 words over and over again a lot recently:

“Failure is not an option.”

And I get it. These competitors came to win, not to mess around. Winning would mean a lot for them both financially and clout-wise for their businesses.

But. I don’t like my kids hearing “Failure is not an option” over and over again. Because the truth is, failure is always an option. It is an option that all of us will have to accept at some point in our lives, willingly or unwillingly. It is a fact of life that we all need to know how to handle so that we don’t fall apart when it becomes our reality (like many of the chefs on Chopped, mere moments after we’ve confidently declared that it is not an option). I’ve been thinking about that phrase often over the past few weeks, and finally, I have to say something about it. So, pardon me while I clear my throat and take a minute to speak to my children about failure.

Dear Joshua, Sophie, and Jonah,

Hey kiddos. I want to tell you a story about your mother. When I was a junior in high school, sweet 17, I was having a pretty great year. I know it’s hard to  imagine, but I was kind of fabulous! I was the lead in the school play and the school musical. I had a solo in the honors choir. My talents were lauded and I loved what I was doing. Soon I would be a senior. The best was yet to come. (Can you imagine me being young and cool? I was, I swear.)

Jenny Annie
Your mother in her glory days. Don’t act like you’re not impressed!

At the beginning of my senior year, I approached the fall play auditions with full confidence in my abilities. I knew what part I wanted and I knew I would get it. My audition and my callback were great. There was no doubt in my mind I would succeed.

Except…I didn’t. As all of us hopefuls gathered after school around the poster in the hallway where the cast list had been posted, I eagerly looked for my name. And I looked. And I looked, and I looked. Eagerness turned to disbelief. Then the tears came. People all around me were as shocked as I was. Looks of pity abounded. I ran away humiliated.

I had failed. And not even at anything hard, kiddos. At something that came easily to me. At something I was good at. I failed big time.

I cried all the way home and all night long. I remember my mom trying to comfort me but I don’t remember what she said. I just remember the humiliation and the hurt. It was my senior year! It was supposed to be my victory lap, and I was out before the race even started. Not only did I not get the part I wanted, and I didn’t get ANY part.

Somehow I moved on—I don’t really remember how. My 18-year-old ego was bruised but I managed to show my face at school despite my failure. My friends avoided the topic, and I tried to pretend it hadn’t happened. But it was there with me, every day.

Soon, however, I had something to distract me from my failure: an accident. In one of those “urban legend” type stories, one of my best friends—a boy—had a pretty bad accident at school in shop class. And after surgeries and a solid 3 weeks of missed school, not to mention trying to study on painkillers, he needed a tutor. I was in all 3 of the required graduation classes with him, and because of my failure to win my coveted spot in the school play, I had lots of free time. Soon I was spending most days after school helping him catch up on his senior year schoolwork.

Also, since he couldn’t drive due to his injury and medications, I started picking him up for school events and soccer games. We were spending a ton of time together, and eventually, about three months after my epic failure, we started dating.
[video-ad]

You’re smart kids, so you’ve probably already figured out that that boy was your father. But what you didn’t know about me and your dad is that our getting together was in large part due to what at the time I considered a huge embarrassing failure. If I had gotten that part in the school play that I wanted SO badly, I would not have been available to help your dad catch up on all his school work and pass those classes he needed to graduate. I wouldn’t have become his driver, his companion, his girlfriend. Maybe God would’ve brought us together some other way, but…maybe not. After all, though I am so glad your dad and I chose each other, I don’t believe that there’s only ONE person in the world out there that you’re destined to marry. Maybe if I’d succeeded instead of failed at that school play audition, we would have remained “just friends.” Maybe I would have gone to college without a boyfriend and met some nice Christian guy there and married him instead. Maybe you kids wouldn’t be here. Maybe I would have missed a life that is so, so, so, much better than a lead role in a high school play.

Since then, I’ve failed many times over, my babies. I’ve failed at jobs, at friendships, and as you know, at countless mom moments. And that’s because, kiddos, failure is ALWAYS an option. But it’s not always a bad thing. It’s only bad if you don’t LEARN from it. In a failure you may feel pain, but you may also learn to empathize. You may be broken, but because you’re broken and desperate, you can experience the glory of being fully dependent on Christ. And you may fail at opportunities you reallyreallyreallyreallyreally want only to be available for ones you’d never dreamed of getting.

Kids, I don’t want you to be afraid of failure because I don’t want you to be afraid to TRY. I’m not looking for perfection from you, my dears, I am looking for effort. Try and care! Succeed and fail! Do it all for the Glory of God and let Him do what He wills with the results. I’m here for you no matter what. You’re loved and cherished and valued no matter what. And if you continue to give your lives to Christ, you really cannot go wrong in your failures or in your wins.

So, darlings, that’s about where I run out of wise words, but I’ll leave you with this:

“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that don’t work.” —Thomas Edison

“Many are the plans in the mind of a man,
    but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand”.—Proverbs 19:21

I love you guys. Now go out and try some stuff!

Love,

Mom

 

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A Beautiful Risk

Two weeks ago, two different families that were “friends of friends” lost children on the same weekend. One a newborn baby who inexplicably never breathed, and one a teen in a freak accident. Since then, I have not been able to stop thinking about this post I wrote back in October 2007 (!!!) about my baby Sophie, for the old online magazine TopBlogMag. I finally searched for it so I could re-publish it here for you guys, because it adequately expresses my thoughts on what I’ve been feeling for these two families, and on the great way we expose our mom hearts when we have kids.

***

She’s sleeping soundly, and I pause to observe a rare moment of calm in my wild child, my crazy girl, my daring daughter. Her long, fine hair covers her thick eyelashes and rest on her plump, peaceful cheeks. She is, to me, simply amazing. But I am, of course, her mother.

Eleven months ago, I exhibited the opposite of the serenity she now sleepily displays. I was pregnant with her, and on the cusp of giving birth, rotund, uncomfortable, and scared. I was anxious, apprehensive, and fretful about my baby girl. My fears frustrated and confounded me. I already had a son, and he was healthy and strong. I had done this before, what was wrong with me? I just wanted her out, and as my pregnancy progressed I became more and more convinced she would be safer outside the womb than in.

A few days before my due date, after a doctor’s appointment where once again, everything looked fine, I sat down to try and analyze my fear, to seek to know the enemy that was taking the joy out of this pregnancy. What I came to realize after some careful, quiet thought, was this: because I already had one child, I knew what I had to lose if something went wrong with this pregnancy. I knew what it was like to hold my own child in my arms, to nurse it at my breast, to feel its breath on my cheek, to marvel at its first smile and revel in its first laugh. This baby already had my heart. Giving her life meant risking her life, and I already knew I couldn’t live without her.

A few days later, right on time, my risk, my beautiful risk paid off. My daughter came into my world healthy and strong, just like her brother. The last eleven months she has brought me joy upon joy, and looking at her now I don’t regret the risk for a minute. Still, knowing what I have to lose, I don’t think myself brave enough to take it on again.

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