my son does hear me.

In the midst of child-raising we forget how much impact our actions and words have on our little ones. We may teach them to say "please" and "thank you" or to cover their mouth when they sneeze, but we may not always realize the effect that it has once they are out in society. Calvin has always been a social boy. If any of you have had the pleasure of meeting him he has probably talked your ear off about excavators, garbage trucks, and kittens. He has all of Nick's looks and all of my personality. 

Today we were at the San Diego Discovery Children's Museum and he very quickly made friends and roamed the facility. I love taking him there because it is a place where I can say "yes" a lot more often than I ever have to say "no." He has an amazing imagination and it brings me so much joy to see it come to life. Max usually pushes the grocery carts around and tries to keep up with the big kids while I soak up my surroundings. 

From afar I could see the confrontation begin and anticipated where it might have ended up. Calvin wanted to help a few other older boys (maybe 6-7 years old) make a tower with some big foam blocks outside. I could see the leader of the group get frustrated and even turn red as he was telling Calvin to stop and to go away. Calvin kept on handing the boy more blocks to help him build the tower and I could even here him say "Here you go, friend," cue my momma heart melting. As I grab Max off the grass where he was playing I saw the boy push Calvin and start to punch him. I ran at this point because Calvin only weighs maybe 27 lbs and is a tiny guy for his age. Once he was in my arms he said "Stop friend, that hurts me." I intentionally raised my voice one notch and told Calvin let's go over to the Lego table because this friend was not being kind today. 

Calvin repeatedly through the rest of our visit showed me what his 'friend' (we have never met these kids before) did to him and asked me "Mommy, why did my friend hurt my body?" The reason why this incident made me proud is because although Calvin seems like a leader, he is a follower around older kids and normally would have let the child continue to hurt him just so that the boy would like him. He would have normally got right up and played again as if nothing had happened. Knowing this is his personality type we have been working on him using his words to ask another friend to stop if they were to ever hurt his body. Along with using his words, we have been instilling how crucial it is for him to tell mommy and daddy if anyone was to ever hurt his body and/or feelings.

When we are at home practicing these scenarios nonchalantly, I forget how important this is for real life situations. Days like today where Calvin showed me that: A) he is listening to me when I teach him something B) he can stand up for himself and still show kindness and C) he is quick to forgive. I love my sweet boy and even though he has confrontations with friends at times I was proud to see him demonstrate a little bit of Christ's love by not retaliating back. 

The rest of our time at the museum went smoothly. Calvin made new friends and was the pirate captain of the ship. He shook everyone's hand and said "Nice to meet you, friend, I am Calvin Daisy". At 3 years old he reminded me that even when something goes wrong in our day, we can move forward and still show kindness to others. I love him so much and cannot wait to see him continue to grow into a little gentleman. My road with him with discipline, listening, and mannerisms has not been easy. It never is with parenting. But today showed me how much he really does hear and notice what we do on a daily basis.

Have you ever had a moment where your child made you proud or surprised you by their actions? How do you teach your children to defend themselves? Does your child handle confrontation well? Does your momma inner lioness come out? 


my love story.

Guest Post by: Rachel Crum

My husband and I were recently watching Parenthood, one of the later seasons, where Crosby goes through a bit of a crisis wondering why he doesn't feel a "connection" with his newborn daughter. He keeps waiting for that huge semi-truck of love to come slamming into him and he's jealous of the way his wife seems to feel towards the tiny, crying, never sleeping baby now haunting their house.

Watching this made me think about how I felt those first weeks as a new mom. The last couple of months before my daughter was born, people kept asking me, "Are you SO excited to meet your baby?!" And I remember thinking, "Well...kind of." I couldn't wait to see her face for the first time, to hold the child kicking inside of me in my arms. At the same time, I didn't know what to think. I knew I loved my baby, but I felt like someone standing waiting for a mail-order bride to exit a ship. I felt like I was waiting for a stranger-- a stranger who would be a part of my life for the rest of my life. I felt nervous, I felt scared, I worried about how our life was going to change, I worried if I would know what to do. I wanted to see my daughter, but I honestly didn't know anything about her, and I didn't have a relationship with her to reassure me, so I felt more scared and apprehensive than I had before my husband and I got married.

I thought, and hoped all of this would change as soon as I saw my baby for the first time. I thought maybe that truck of love really would hit me and I would never look back. But as much as I cried when they held her up for the first time, as amazed as I was to look at her sweet face, a face I never could have conjured up in my imagination, as much as I loved her, I was so scared. All of my love felt like fear.

I was terrified for her well-being, terrified when she was crying, terrified when the nurses took her away, terrified I didn't know how to feed her and was she eating and how long was it going to hurt like that?! I was terrified because I didn't know how to get her to sleep, or how to swaddle her blankets the right way so they actually stayed tight, and I was terrified to hold her and burp her and change her diaper and bathe her and dress her and be left with her. She was so tiny and helpless! There was a huge burden weighing on me to be the one responsible for the life of this new human. Everything was so new to me. All my years of babysitting felt like they had done nothing to prepare me for this. As I looked at the tiny baby in my arms, I felt love, in some form, and an overwhelming amount of fear.

I'll never forget telling my husband I didn't understand all the happy, lovey-dovey newborn posts my friends put on Facebook. I was too exhausted and painfully sore and hormonal and panicky and overwhelmed to post things about I couldn't believe how much I loved my new baby and I couldn't imagine life without her and I loved being her mama. I could remember life without her, and it had been a good life where I actually slept, and my breasts weren't about to fall off my body, and I wasn't covered in puke but terrified to shower. And I had always thought I would love being a mom, but I had pictured lazy days at the park, and reading my favorite children's stories, and baking muffins and playing play-dough together, not crying while breastfeeding, or being up at 2 in the morning because we had no idea how to get her to go back to sleep, or looking at the tiny person in my arms and wishing so badly she could knew me or could show some sort of affection.

I had a lot of moms tell me, "It gets easier," especially around three months mark they said, but I just remember thinking, "How?! How does this get easier?" The advice felt so vague and, at the time, everything felt so hard. But, I'm thankful to say, it really did get easier. It got easier because I gave up breastfeeding (because of several physical problems), which finally allowed me to feel like I could go out in public. It got easier because my daughter finally started sleeping at night, and even though she would still wake up to eat a couple of times, she didn't stay awake and went right back to sleep. It got easier because she also started napping longer than 40 min, and she stopped puking the contents of her stomach all over me every 10 min (well....eventually). It got easier because I figured out when and how quickly to take a shower and get dinner prepped. It got easier because I became slightly more confident, like being three months into a new job. Even if I didn't know the answer, at least I knew things to try, and the ways to do them.

And if you were to ask me when I felt that swell of love, that bursting, been-run-over-by-a-truck feeling, I would tell you, like Elizabeth says in Pride and Prejudice, "It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began." As the fear that characterized my early love slowly subsided, something else inched its way open. It came in all the little moments: my daughter curled up on my chest, asleep, as I kissed her downy little head, hanging out on the bed with sun streaming in the window as I read her Harry Potter, her first smiles, reaching out her arms in recognition towards me, her first laugh. She was three months old before we first heard her laugh, but when she did I realized everyone was right. It really does get easier.

It took me a while to understand that when I had a baby, I entered into a relationship with my child, and it was ok that it unfolded slowly. I loved her from the beginning, but it was a new, hesitant, fearful love--for a tiny stranger. Just like any relationship, time is the key. As I spent every day feeding, caring, comforting, and playing with my baby, my love for her deepened. I began to know her facial expressions, her likes and dislikes, how to hold her and get her to sleep. I began to know HER, and knowing her, I loved her. Now there are times where I put her down to sleep, shut the door, and walk out a little teary, because I didn't know you could love someone so much. I didn't know.



this body is amazing.


Guest Post by: Aleigh Moore

It was the day after I had Oaklyn...

I was standing in our hospital room's bathroom about to tie my gown back up after nursing my new little baby.

She was snoozing away in her daddy's arms.

She was content, he was smitten, and I was sore/exhausted.

Right before grabbing the tie I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My eyes widened and my already cloudy mind panicked.

"Why do I still look pregnant? She's out of there. What is still in there?"

The nurse came in a few hours later.

"I'm here to check your swelling."

"Okay good, my ankles seem really puffy and my fingers are extra swollen."

The nurse touched my ankles and looked up at me "Yeah you are still really swollen. I'll be back to check on you tomorrow before you leave."

"Oh, that's it" I thought, "I'm just swollen, it will all go back to normal soon enough."

The next day I was getting dressed to go home.

I brought a sweatshirt and leggings.

Very, very, tight, pre-pregnancy leggings.

There was no way I was going home in those. Especially with that diaper I had to wear.

Thank goodness I had the stretchy pants I wore to the hospital.

The next few days I spent much time weeding through my closet trying to find clothes that weren't too small or too big because I wasn't the size before pregnancy or during pregnancy.

Thanks to nursing, constantly being on the move with a baby that loved being rocked, and a fussy newborn that didn't like when I left her to go eat... I started to shrink rather quickly.

I was back in most of my pre pregnancy clothes with the exception of some pairs of jeans, in a few weeks.

But the loose skin, the stretch marks I didn't know existed, and the lost muscle definition haunted me every time I saw my reflection. 

I know every new mother thinks it. Of course, some more often than others...

"I miss my body before kids."

I was more limber, I was stronger, my skin was tighter, you could see my abs poking through, and I felt comfortable in my own skin.

What happened?

I'll tell you what happened...

Something amazing happened.

I grew a child in my own body for 9 months and 5 days.

I stretched and often ached but I did that.

My body did that.

I gave birth to a child.

I'll spare you the details, but that's no walk in the park.

I gave Oaklyn life.

My body gave Oaklyn life.

I have fed her for almost 7 months.

I have nourished and helped her grow.

My body has supplied her with food, it knew how to give her food.

I have rocked her and held her til my arms feel weak but she has been comforted during the fussiest times by being held close next to me.

My body pushed through the longest nights to help calm a little baby that was hurting, hungry, and had her days and nights mixed up.

When my mind told me I couldn't, my body kept going.

My body has recovered from the most amazing miracle and excruciating pain any human will know, because it is amazing.

It's hard to see the changes made and it's hard to work towards what I want to become.

I'm aloud to have a few thoughts, on occasion, of disappointment. 

I wouldn't be human if I didn't.

But, it is also so important to remember that this body has been through much sacrifice to bring forth the miracle of life.

And that is the most important thing this body will do.

I will still continue to search youtube to find that miracle workout to get rid of that darn pooch... but I will also strive to remember, and I hope that you mothers will too, that these bodies of ours sure have done some incredible things. 

Give yourself a little more credit because, your body is amazing

All my love,

Aleigh Joy

photo by Erryn Kowallis Photography

photo by Erryn Kowallis Photography