And then they handed you a baby. Your baby. It was magic. You felt everything, and didn’t feel anything. You glimpsed heaven for a minute and you also wondered if you were feeling everything you’re “supposed to feel” in that moment.

Let’s get one thing straight right away…

There is no “supposed to”. You get to feel whatever you feel the entire way, and believe me…you will feel all of the things.

In just a couple short days they said, “Let’s check your carseat and send you home.”

You might have thought…with me?? Are you sure?? Who will help me get my latch right and make sure I’m having bowel movements??

You are beginning on a crazy, beautiful, journey and even if it doesn’t feel like it, this calling will soon fit like a glove.

In the (short) eleven years I’ve spent parenting, here are some things I’ve learned and things to expect…

1. When you try and eat anything your kids will appear. They will be like sharks who’ve smelled blood in the water. They start this the second they’re born. You put a fork in your mouth and they begin screaming like they haven’t eaten in 47 hours. When they’re older it will go like this…

What are you eating?

Nothing.

It doesn’t smell like nothing.

It’s medicine.

What?

With vegetables in it.

It looks like ice cream.

I can’t really talk about it right now.

2. “I slept like a baby” is the worst saying ever. What do they mean exactly? That they woke up crying 19 times in 8 hours and each time they had to make themselves a sandwich?

You will probably sleep like crap for a long time. You might be the rare exception, but probably not. You will experience the kind of tired that makes you want to go slap your pre-parent self in the face. Just remember…this too will pass. You will sleep again (mostly, sort of). Until then coffee.

3. Take care of yourself. I mean it. No one can run on empty forever. Go on a walk, go out for drinks with the hubs or friends. Take a long bath. Trust other people with your baby. Re-fuel your soul. You can do this, but you have to treat yourself well.

4. Gift shops are a TRAP, avoid them at all cost. You must keep at least twenty yards between you and that zoo gift shop. Your kids will say, “Mom I just want to look!”

Listen to me.

THEY ARE LYING.

They will not just look. They will fall in love with a stuffed tortoise and name him Felix. Felix will cost $99.99. Before you know it you will be dragging your spawn out while they scream NO FELIX NOOOOOOOO!

It will be like a very sad movie where everyone thinks you are kidnapping your own kid.

What a fun game.

5. Making promises is almost always a terrible idea. KIDS DO NOT FORGET ANYTHING EVER.

And remember…if you promise a bike ride a rainstorm and a headache will come, it’s science.

6. If you clean the house, they will wreck it. Every time.

Daily dilemmas include:

Should I sweep so they can spill breakfast on a clean floor?

Should I vacuum the car before they throw up in it?

Should I put a clean shirt on them so that they roll in the dirt?

Should I make healthy food so they can cry about it and finally eat one bite?

7. DO. NOT. GOOGLE. EVER. When in doubt call the doctor. Don’t ever google anything unless you enjoy panic attacks in the middle of the night.

8. You will nail parenting sometimes, and other times you will completely screw up. Period. Everybody is learning and trying their best. When you win, give yourself credit for being amazing. When you lose, say sorry, and then give yourself credit for being amazing. Love covers a multitude of mistakes and remember, you aren’t alone. WE ARE ALL MAKING THEM TOGETHER.

9. Time will go so quickly and so slowly. You will love your kids so hard it will feel like an actual knife in the heart. You will also have moments where you wonder if they have boarding schools for three-year-olds. Motherhood is full of contradictions. It’s normal and emotional, roll with it.

10. Don’t forget to find a tribe. Find the moms who get it. Find the ones who won’t judge you when the floor of your suburban looks like the land fill. The ones who will get coffee (or wine) at a moments notice. Find your people. They are out there just like you. You are not alone, ever.

10. Don’t worry, you’ve got this. I promise. You don’t need to be perfect (no one is) and you don’t need to know everything (no one does). Don’t forget to ask for help. Give yourself a break, kiss those little cheeks, and pat yourself on the back. You’re doing just fine.

I love the quote that says…

“Behind every great kid is a mom who’s pretty sure she’s screwing it up.” (author unknown)

You aren’t the only one who doubts she has what it takes. WE ALL DO THAT, and here’s the truth:

Keep loving.

Keep apologizing.

Keep forgiving (yourself).

You are going to be a way better mom than you think.

***

You can follow Jess and her crazy beautiful mess here, on Facebook, and on Instagram.

*P.S. If anyone knows the author of the quote please enlighten me!

A friend of mine researches every health related issue, and spends her extra change on the supplements she reads about. It is her passion, and it’s how she loves her family and friends so well. I spend that money on lattes and stretch pants.

I look at the “Wait Until 8th” pledge and think, hell-if-my-kids-will-have-smart-phones- before-they’re-sixteen-atleast. I may end up eating my words (God knows I have before), but I just don’t want the internet in the back pocket of my teens. I have friends that give their kids phones as soon as they start playing sports. I totally get it. We both gotta do what we feel is best for our kids.

I have a friend that rarely (if ever) raises her voice or loses her cool. I DON’T ACTUALLY KNOW HOW SHE DOES IT. I would call my parenting style “fiery with lots of fire”. If I’m mad, or sad, or scared…my kids know it, but they also know that I love them fiercely.

I have a friend who keeps life simple so they can afford to send their kids to private school. She makes daily sacrifices to continue their education. Her love and dedication to her kids is amazing, and I’m humbled when I think about it, but I don’t blink twice when I drop my kids by the flagpole at our local elementary.

We are all good parents.

I choose babysitters like I’m recruiting for the FBI. It is a strenuous process. My friend will knock on the neighbor’s door and ask if the nearest tween would be willing to pop over for a minute while she runs to the grocery store. She high-fives the youth as she sprints out the door.

I am outnumbered by sisters who homeschool. They are good at it, and I can tell that it has had a healthy impact on their kids. I tried homeschooling once. I want my kids to still like me (and also know how to read), so I stopped. It’s not for me; I’m not good at it.

I have friends who baby-wised, who co-slept, and who attachment parented. I have friends who nursed and who bottle fed. I have friends that feed their kids snacks after dinner, and those who don’t. I’ve got friends who are working moms and stay-at-home-moms.

We are all over the map.

We are all good parents.

We need to trust ourselves more.

Each of us makes different decisions for our kids, but we are all fantastic moms. Do you know how I know that? Because we love them. We love them with our whole hearts and we do our best. Each of us would stand in front of an oncoming bus to protect them.

We would walk through fire for them, and sometimes we do.

The internet is a liar; there’s no “one-way” to do this well. WE DO OUR BEST…and guess what? OUR BEST IS ENOUGH, and even if it isn’t…that’s all we can offer.

There are a thousand, million, opinions out there about the “right” way to parent.

Sometimes we gotta let that shit go, and trust our gut.

There are some things that are out of our control, but as Jack from This is Us said,

We’re their parents,

we do the best we can,

but at the end of the day…

what happens to them?

It’s bigger than us.

Why is it so hard to trust ourselves when it comes to parenting?

Is it because we’re scared? Is it because parenthood has become more like an Olympic sport than an organic process? Is it because we look back at the mistakes our parents made and are scared to make the same ones?  Is it because we’ve realized that the standard we judged our parents by was actually pretty unfair and even impossible?

Is it because we think the preschool we choose might be the actual difference between raising a humanitarian or a drug dealer? Is it because we doubt that our love is enough? Is it because we long for a futuristic thanksgiving table full of friendship and laughter…not one we saw once on a SNL sketch?

Yes, I think so.

A word to my generation of moms…

We’ve got this. Mom guilt is a liar and the internet is a liar. No one can do it all. Trust your gut and do the best you can…we are in this together.

The kids are going to be fine.

For more like this you can follow me here, on Facebook, and on Insta.

These photos are compliments of the amazing @isaacjohnston at isaacjohnston.co.

If you oiled a 1950’s tractor with urine. We are a very slow moving machine that smells like pee, is what I’m trying to say.

It is a longstanding tradition in my family to create stressful family vacations. My grandpa used to pile us all in a motorhome so that he and my dad could argue over traffic laws for five days straight. I have fond memories of driving down the L.A. freeway in a giant monstrosity of a bus, while people sped by flipping us the bird.

I remember thinking, why aren’t the adults having more fun? 

NOW I KNOW WHY. Having fun comes at a cost. It comes at the cost of stress-related ulcers for the adults.

I was eleven, and I thought it was mostly hilarious to watch the adults simultaneously combust into flames, and also I thought Disney was awesome. So hashtag worthit??

I think my grandpa and dad would genuinely say so.

Vacation can take out the weak my friends, we must be prepared for this. First thing to do? Make realistic goals.

1. Create one special memory a day:

People still eat, stub their toes, poop, and get grumpy on vacation…and that doesn’t even include the kids.

There are the idyllic moments when everyone is playing together harmoniously. Other moments are pulling a slippery three-year-old out of the pool while she’s screaming.

There is going to be whole lot of normal surrounding a sliver of magical.

2. Family photos with everyone present.

I am D.O.N.E. trying to achieve photos where everyone is smiling like we are a Costco ad for vacations. We are embracing backwards shirts and crappitudes, because that is what we have to work with. I am happy if all people are present for the photo, even if that means one kid is laying on the ground crying because they want french fries.

3. Arguing with your spouse more than normal.

We love each other, we really do, but we do not love how the other packs the suitcase OR how they define “watching the kids at the beach”.

Me: Am I watching the kids or are you? Him: I am.

I chalk this up to being wired differently, even though I KNOW FOR SURE MY WAY IS BETTER.

4. Your family will annoy you.

We get away so that we can spend 24 hours a day with the people we love the most, except that turns out to be a lot of time.

I did not realize how much our kids bickered or ate before this. I am pretty sure getting snacks and saying “stop arguing,” is 85% of what we have done on this trip.

5. If your trip is long enough, someone might ask to go live with grandma.

This is hypothetical of course, but if hypothetically this did happen, this is definitely hypothetically when I knew the trip was a big success.

6. Things will not go like you planned.

Period. End of story. Write down your travel dreams on some pretty stationary and then light them all on fire.

The good news is, sometimes the best times come out of the unexpected. My goal this trip is to let go of control as much as possible. I can plan and prepare as much as I want, but at some point it’s best to let go and ride the wave.

8. You will get stressed. 

If you want to know what panic looks like, walk through an airport. I recently saw a dad yelling, running, and nearly crying. He was toting a Disney backpack and two pigtailed girls through LAX.

I feel like we don’t REALLY know what we are made of until we go through a TSA checkpoint with children. I wanted to high five this man, and say hey, we know you aren’t like this at home. Keep up the good fight my friend.

7. Remember why you’re doing it.

Why am I doing it? I’m doing it for the same reason that my grandpa and my dad did it. I’m doing it for the shared adventure and experience. I’m doing it to expand my kids’ minds and to spark their imaginations. I’m doing it to give them a gift that lasts forever. I’m doing it to have stories that make us laugh so hard we cry.

Honestly? Some of the best times are the ones when things went “wrong”, and some of the best memories are when the unexpected happened.

Good luck on your summer vacays my friends…

XOXO,

Jess

***

We are currently traveling the world with our four kids and our best friends. Special thanks to Sunwing Resort in Kamala Beach, Thailand for sponsoring a week of our trip. There is nothing like a kid-friendly place to stay to make family trips more doable and fun.

For more like this you can follow me here, on Facebook, and on Instagram. So far we have traveled to the Cook Islands, New Zealand, Australia, Thailand, Singapore, Vietnam…and we just arrived in Italy!

I guess It teaches patience. At least I’m assuming that’s what it does, it hasn’t worked on me yet, but we are all awaiting this gift with eager expectation.

Here are the 6 laws of dinnertime with children:

1. Someone will always fall out of their chair. It’s science. There is a 98% chance that this will happen to one particular child (who shall remain nameless) multiple times every single night for the rest of your life.

2. Someone will be moved to tears (not the happy kind) over your meal of choice. The more work you put in, the more they will hate it. You will insist they eat it anyway, and let them know how it makes you feel when they act like your dinner is the worst thing that’s ever happened to them.

This will result in weeping and gagging while they choke out, “Thanks for dinner mom”. This will make you feel so much better.

3. It will lead to very interesting conversation. For example your oldest son might tell you how funny it is to tell his teachers he’s going to the bar to have a beer after school.

4. You will forget who likes what. Wait I thought you were the kid that liked avocado?? Doesn’t matter what you chose, you will be wrong.

5. Someone will ask for more of something before you’ve even dished yourself up. You will be the only one that doesn’t eat dinner while it’s hot, and you are also the only one who even likes dinner. What are the odds??

6. The after dinner wreckage will be as though a hurricane of food blew through your home. You won’t even be sure HOW the crumbs made it all the way to the couch…but they did.

WHY?!

Dinnertime is the ultimate character building experience. I think that if someone is looking for enlightenment they should look no further than my dining room. Come one, come all, find out what your made of. Think you’re a basically “good” person? Let’s see what making a lasagna and watching people cry over it before “accidentally” smashing it into the carpet does for you.

I think Jesus wants to call you to the next level of holiness.

If you are raising kids who you want to have fond dinnertime memories (but mostly it’s the worst), then you are my people and here are my survival tips:

I make what I want for dinner anyway. There is going to be weeping no matter what. Breakfast and lunch are usually kid-friendly, but dinner is the sliver of humanity I cling to. They can take my dignity, but they cannot take my fish tacos. We will eat adult people food for dinner and I will not make multiple meals. Aintnoonegottimeforthat. Whether it’s stir-fry, curry, or soup, I don’t keep the veggies separate, I mix it all together, and I don’t do substitutes.

We don’t force feed, but we also don’t do snacks after dinner and the kids know that.

If you are looking to remove the drama from dinnertime, this is not a quick fix, however I will say that it has gotten better with time. Two of my kids are currently obsessed with siracha (??) which is both confusing and wonderful.

****

We are traveling in Thailand right now and doing this at home has made them so much more adaptable. We ate from street vendors last night and every single one of my kids tried all the things and enjoyed them. Except the littlest who kept crying because she just wanted french fries (she is three, thank you for understanding).

I have zero hope that she will ever like vegetables, but I warrior on.

We will take all our miracles as they come.

For more like this you can follow me here on Wonderoak, like my page on Facebook, and follow @wonderoakblog on Instagram!

Also…in those dreams no one has a bad attitude or a headache and someone is playing  classical guitar in the background. NBD.

As I’ve travelled with kids I have found, that the adventure is great…but only if we take care of a few basic things first.

1. Sleep.

2. Food.

3. Self Care.

4. Coffee.

1. Not sleeping is a great way to hate everybody you know, especially your spouse.

When I don’t sleep for a couple consecutive nights I channel my inner Chef from Trolls. This has only happened once on our trip so far and I am happy to report that our friends, and a few random strangers know me so much better now.

Lucky them.

My husband enjoys talking to me when I am like this. Especially loudly in a park. I tell him I am tired and NOTHING WILL FIX IT. Especially not sleep or coffee or food or magic. NOTHING. I shoot down all helpful suggestions like an expert badminton player. Also I never want to camp or fly again as long as I live. So I guess we are moving to New Zealand and I guess we will have to purchase a small home (but only if the walls have excellent insulation because I am in NEED OF SOME ABSOLUTE QUIET). Also he has a tendency to breath REALLY LOUD in case he was wondering.

“I want to help you, but I cannot help you when you are…like this.” He gestures to all of me with his hand.

“I will go on a run.” I say, “And then I’ll probably drink a gallon of coffee.”

“Okay.”

When I came back I like everyone again and also I have decided not to deport to New Zealand.

SO GOOD NEWS: THE TRIP IS STILL ON.

Last night I slept and guess what? Everything is my favorite. My husband, my kids, this smoothie that I’m drinking. It’s all my favorite.

When you plan a trip remember to think about having a good place to sleep, and if your kids nap, planning around that is often worth it (like driving during that time if they sleep in the car). Since we are currently caravanning across New Zealand we tried a few different sleeping arrangements before we found the sweet spot. Now everyone is snoozing like champs.

The food. Nothing is cool when you’re hangry. Not the Sistine Chapel, not the site of the filming of Lord of the Rings, not baby animals cuddling other baby animals.

Nothing.

Eating well can make or break a trip. Sometimes when I’m ready to check myself and my spawn into a looney bin I remember to first try a ham sandwich.

Glory. We are actually reasonable people who like each other…who knew?

Also, for me the eating is 50% of the experience. I don’t just want to “eat”, I want to enjoy flavors and tastes. For me eating Pad Thai in Thailand is as revolutionary as swimming in a hot water creek in New Zealand.

I love food.

The coffee. Here is a list of things I am able to accomplish and thoughts I am able to think before caffeine:

1…..

No one wants to travel with me without coffee and by no-one I mean me. I do not want to travel with me without coffee. And if step #1 fails (as it inevitably will sometimes), coffee is the hero.

The third most important thing is to make sure there’s coffee, and if there isn’t…bring it with.

For all you tea-connoisseurs/non-coffee-drinkers/smoothie-with-vitamins-users…

We cannot be friends.

Just kidding…I salute you. Clearly you have tapped into some sort of voodoo trickery. I only wish to have such skills…but until then I will pack my own french press. Even if it weighed 80 pounds and I had to put it in my purse.

(BTW the coffee has been amazing in both the Cook Islands and New Zealand.)

Self-Care.

For me it’s going on runs when I can. If I wake up in a funk this resets me. For my friend it’s getting a hot shower. Whatever it is, don’t totally neglect yourself when traveling with your kids. You need all of yourself to deal with the ups and downs.

AND..

Sometimes when you’ve slept well, are fed, had a coffee, and took a shower…it really does seem like there’s classical guitar playing in the background on your family adventures.

***

Traveling with kids is smelly, and high energy, and exhausting, and perfect. Follow my family’s trip around the world here, on Facebook, and on Instagram. (To see our day-to-day on the road watch both mine and @grahamsjohnston insta-stories).

My kids.

I was right. A week later we brought them. We got a paper tray full of peanuts and my husband instructed everyone that their shells were to be thrown on the floor. I guard the carpet under our kitchen table like a prison warden, so my seven-year-old’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas. His shrill, villainous, laughter could be heard across the bar as he plowed through peanuts just so he could throw the shells to the ground. Graham busted out his pocket knife and my nine-year-old set to work on the table with the prowess of a young Michelangelo.

We are such good parents.

We ordered beers and a pitcher of root beer. I don’t think my kids have seen that much soda in their entire lives. Everyone was so stuffed from circus peanuts and carbonation that we fed our family of six on just one pizza.

Friends, that hasn’t happened since 2007.

Thought the era for hitting that cool pub or brewery had to be traded in for a mellow night at Sizzler? Think again. Bars are awesome for families and here’s why:

Because they are LOUD. If you have to shout to each other, it is the perfect volume for a family outing. No one will notice if your kids are yelling, spilling, whining, or crawling under the table.

Most importantly: you will barely notice your kids are yelling, spilling, whining, and crawling under the table.

You can wear whatever you want and no one will judge. Sweat pants and hoody? Cool, there’s an older gentlemen at the bar wearing the exact same outfit.

The wait staff aren’t always polished, but my friend neither is your five year old.

You can have a drink…If there’s ever a time to have a beer, it’s when you’re out to eat with toddlers. Amiright?

Bar food. If you don’t want teeny tiny sophisticated portions, if you want to eat burgers, pizza, and fish and chips the size of your head…If you want to know that a place has a legitimate ranch option…then a bar is the place for you.

Because drunk people are super encouraging. When I was in the bathroom trying to coax my daughter to “wrap it up”, an older lady with big hair and a couple dozen earrings thought WE WERE THE CUTEST THING EVER, NO, SERIOUSLY SOOOOOOOO CUTE…Thank you, I think so too.

Because even if we are annoying people...then clearly it’s not us – it’s them. They’re at a bar with sawdust on the floor. Someone needs to lower their expectations.

Because bars are awesome. Carve on the table. Throw your peanuts on the floor. Does this not sound like kid heaven?

It sounds like everyone heaven.

Because what happens at the bar, stays at the bar. And by that I mean the crumbs, ALLL the crumbs. I mean the rootbeer that spilled and the dirty dishes. I mean the grease fingerprints all over the table. ThankyouGodandallthatisholy.

Your floor will remain intact and your kitchen won’t look like it belongs in a frat house (#everysingledinnertime). You can go home and take a bath. With bubbles. Yaaaaaas.

So, let other families hit up Pizza Hut, reserve classy places for date night – and take your kids to the bar.

That’s what I do.

For more like this you can follow me here on Wonderoak, like my page on Facebook, and follow Wonderoak Blog on Instagram!

“But Mom,” she said her brown eyes wide with wonder, “It’s so big and round and you know…wobbles like this,” she said, as she flailed her hands dramatically.

Oh my dear soul…just what I needed. Sign me up for botox. We can use my butt to help my face, it’s a worthy cause…and my butt is happy to donate. Particularly today.

A part of me wanted to revert back to a younger me, smothered by eating disorders and body dysmorphia. But a much bigger part wanted to succumb to hysterical laughter. And that is what I chose, because friends…I’m not a slave anymore.

When I was twelve, my Aunt passed away from a terrible monster of an eating disorder. It was a deep time of grief for my family. She was young, and it was a great loss. Only a couple years later after cross state moves, my own overwhelming battle with perfectionism and unworthiness began to manifest. I succumbed to my own monsters in the form of eating disorders and depression for about a year and a half.

With the help of family, doctors, nutritionists, and a counselor I was able to recover.

Thank God.

I still wrestle with demons sometimes. And it was a particular struggle for me during pregnancies and weight gain.

But you know now, as I think about my perfect daughter?

It is enough.

And I am not a slave.

I am beautiful, and I am wonderful.

You know what kids are good at? Making me stop taking things so damn seriously. And for that I am so very grateful. Because you know…let’s by honest…my butt wobbles. But the thing is no matter what size or shape I am today, believing that I’m beautiful is an inside job, not an outside one.

So yesterday, we went for a little jog on the way to her ballet class. She was riding on pure delight. “Hey,” I asked, “Is your butt jiggling? Because mine is.” She laughed hysterically…”Yes! Yes mom it is!”

A perfect moment…

And then she looked at my legs. “You know what else wiggles? Your legs! Sometimes I like to hit them and watch them shake!” Her gusto was like that of someone who enjoys playing basketball or eating large chocolate sundaes.

And you know what? It was pretty damn contagious! I think I like to watch my legs jiggle too now. Partially because it turns out it’s one of my daughter’s favorite pastimes, but mostly because my daughter…she is perfect. I hope and pray that her body never instructs her on her joy–that she knows forever that beauty is something that comes from deep within and that her looks are SPECTACULAR no matter her size or shape.

I pray that she can giggle about cellulite and leg fat forever.

Dear Daughter,

You are strong. You are smart. You are beautiful. 

May you forever rest in your immeasurable worth.

I love you dear heart.

Mama

So today I’m embracing all that I don’t think I care for about my body. And I’m letting go of any left over hate. Because this ones for the next generation of girls.

Because they’re worth it, and I am worth it.

Hey Mama,

Jiggle some of that and embrace the wrinkles for me today, you’re beautiful and you are worthy.

This one’s for the girls.

***

Also, I am embracing her observations while also gently guiding her towards wisdom. Hopefully I will have her “guided” before she compliments you on the bags under your eyes.

One can hope.

***

You guys, my friend Marianne at Marianne Wiest Photography is a true artist. I’m so grateful for these captured moments. You can follow her on Facebook or Instagram!

For more reading like this you can follow me here on wordpress or like my page on Facebook at Wonderoak Blog.

I remember the day I first held you in my arms. You became, and I also became. I’d thought about motherhood for a long time, about how I’d be and how you’d be. But I was still so unprepared. Heaven and Earth kissed for a moment and I’d never felt so sure and so uncertain all at the same time.

I knew you and I – we’d be okay, but I also knew I had to grow up in just a moment to be your mom.

You believed in me, I could tell.

I expected  that I would know how to do this – that I would know how to love you and raise you well at each stage of your life. But I haven’t known. When you were a few days old I called the doctor at 1AM sobbing because I couldn’t feed you. You were screaming and I was crying. We were a mess. Now I’m helping you navigate the school age years and process the grief of your best friend moving. I should know how to do this well son, but sometimes I don’t.

I expect too much from you too, son. I try not to, but I do.

It’s not you, it’s me.

Sometimes my own insecurities and unrealistic expectations of me overflow on to you, and I’m so very sorry. Please know, when you wonder if you’re doing it wrong, if you’re not getting it all right…you are doing just fine. I’m a firstborn too, son, and I dreamed in my school age years of having you someday and finding a way to raise you to never know perfectionism. To never have the task master of fear and idealism whispering in your ear, “don’t mess it up”. But I haven’t done that. I see it in your eyes when you worry about tests at school or when I come down on you to harshly for small things.

I’m so sorry, son. It’s not you , it’s me.

The thing is, son, you are perfect. Because perfect isn’t what we think it is; it isn’t a standard we have to achieve or an impossible expectation to reach – it’s the gold that is already inside you. It’s who you are outside of all your mistakes and all your successes.
I am so very very proud of you.

Even if you weren’t “nice”, son, even if you forgot to think of others and to be the one to have a “good attitude” – I am on your team, every.single.time. I am rooting for you and we will figure it out together.

You could be terrible at school and never pass another AR exam or timed math test and I’d never ever look at you differently or be less proud.

You could be uncomfortable with organized sports and take off running when they ask you to do a drill just like you did in kindergarten. I get it, I felt like that too. If you sense that you’re disappointing me, you’re not.

You could get married, or never get married, you can go to college or not. You could pursue a fancy career or nothing at all. You could be very successful or make tons of mistakes, and I’m not going anywhere. There is no mistake or decision that would make me go anywhere, not one.  I couldn’t be prouder or love you more.

When you sense something from me that makes these things feel untrue, please know, it’s not because you’re failing, it’s because I’m scared. I’m scared I’m not doing it right or that I won’t be able to give you what you need. I’m scared I’m not cut out for this and maybe other moms get it more than I do. I think about how I let you watch TV and I don’t cook every dinner from scratch and I wonder if I’m not loving you as well as I could. I think about how I’m still so very selfish and sometimes I’m so consumed with me, that I miss it with you. I think about how I put expectations on you that I swore I would never do. And I’m scared and I’m not sure I have what it takes.

Other times I’m being frivolous and dramatic. It’s because my pants are too tight and the house is too messy and I feel like I’ve failed miserably. Sometimes it’s because I’m trying to not eat sugar or drink coffee and all I can think about is sugar and coffee. It’s silly, it’s humbling, but it’s true.

It’s not you son, it’s me.

You’re nine now and sometimes I wonder if my time is running out to make mistakes. If you’ll turn me away one of these days when I expect too much.  But you keep forgiving me, believing in me, and trusting in me–just like you did when you were an infant and I couldn’t figure out how to nurse.

Thank you for loving the most imperfect me, I am so very much better because of you, and I’m learning…

I’m learning to accept me as much as I accept you.

I love you son, more than words can say. Thank you for growing up with me.

Love,

Your Mama forever

***

Hey Mamas and Dads, What do you want your firstborn to know most?

To keep updated on new posts you can either follow me here at Wonderoak, or like my page on Facebook, WONDEROAK Blog!

JOIN THE WONDEROAK SISTERHOOD

Shop Sister I Am With You shirts here

For every 20 shirts sold, one shirt will be sent to someone in need of some sisterly support (this is done via nomination on Facebook and Instagram).

Sister, I am with you is a message of solidarity between moms and women. It says I AM FOR you no matter what.

I don’t care if your house looks like the bottom of a cereal box. I don’t care if you’re makeup is fresh or three days old. I don’t care if you smile a lot, cry a lot, or yell a lot. I don’t care if you breastfeed or bottle feed, or if you like a glass of whiskey at the end of a long day. I don’t care if motherhood fits you like a glove or like a too-tight pair of pants that ride up the nether regions. I don’t care if you house smells like lavender or dirty diapers. I don’t care if you stay at home or have a full-time job. I don’t care if you’re keto or paleo or eat a lot of frozen pizza and carrot sticks.

I AM FOR YOU. Sister, I am with you.

10% of proceeds will go to Women for Women International to support and empower women in areas of conflict and war.

ALSO, join Wonderoak Tribe on Facebook.

1.When talking to your kids, try to sound like Mary Poppins, but sweeter and less abrasive.

2.Never become angry or scared – because you aren’t a human anymore, you are a mother. It’s different. Always be empathetic of their emotions, but avoid having any at all yourself (unless it’s ecstatic joy or all-consuming peace).

3.Don’t feed your kids anything that isn’t raw, organic, and that you didn’t go into to the woods and forage for personally. This should be fairly easy, because there are only three meals a day and 17,000 snacks to take care of. Never EVER get fast food, or as I refer to it:

Satan’s Candy.

Not even once, friends. Not even once.

4. Danger is everywhere. It usually comes in the form of Red Dye #40 and strangers, but sometimes lurks in non-organic cotton. You are a fortress, nothing gets past your Eagle Scout vision.

5. Self Care: The goal is to look like you are a junior in high school. Without ever taking time away from your children, you should be exercising at least 7 1/2 days a week. To find that time, maybe give up sleeping.

6. You must be fun all of the time. Even when you are scraping scrambled eggs out of the carpet and ESPECIALLY when your kid hits you in the head with a giant rock. That is a perfect time to be super fun.

7. You should always know how to answer all the questions they ask you with perfect poise and wisdom, especially, “Why do girls have two butts?” and “Why do ladies wear shirts, is it because their chests are ugly?”.

8. Homeschool and like it, nay, you must love it.

9. Stay home and surrender all other identities at the door. Your name is “Mom” now – you should probably change it legally.

10. Yoga is definitely something that moms do. And if you don’t do yoga, invest in fifteen pairs of yoga pants. You’re welcome.

Love,

Idealistic Expectations + The mother that has never existed, but we all think might.

I have a theory…this “ideal” mom that is capable of ALL these things- she is a myth. Kind of like Bigfoot – only more toned and with perfect hair. Seriously though. We moms need to keep it real and be in this together, no one else is going to understand these problems, amiright?

I just took my first Yoga class. I took the class for the seriously injured and the elderly, because I knew it would be just my speed.  I was right.

Turns out breathing is very complicated for me and so is thinking of something to fixate on that is less than 500 words and doesn’t have to do with whether or not my kids brought shoes to grandmas house. It’s a real problem. My second son never brings shoes anywhere. How does one walk across gravel and snow with out having an a-ha moment?? I don’t even know.

I feel okay about my relaxing problem though, because one of my friends has a worse yoga problem. She has gone to two yoga classes since having kids, because she needs to mommy-detox. Unfortunately it turns out now that she’s had kids – relaxing actually makes her vart (no, I did not spell that wrong). And that is not something she usually enjoys doing publicly.

We cannot win you guys. Thinking of relaxing things is complicated and stressful, and if we do relax, we vart.

So, in response…

Dear Idealistic Expectations,

We can’t even do yoga very well. We’re going to need to break up, you’re kind of an asshole.

Love,

The Real Moms

This “ideal” has become steeper, more strenuous – and let’s be honest…

Just straight up impossible to climb. Do I look like I’m about to summit Mt. Everest anytime soon? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Let’s keep this whole parenting thing a little more doable and a little less in the clouds of fantasy bedtime stories…um kay?

To my beloved mamas, obviously you can rock the homeschool and the foraged for food and I still want to be your friend.

Just don’t be perfect because that’s annoying.

See you at yoga.

Special thanks to Marianne Wiest Photography for these insanely amazing photos – she has such a gift, I can’t even handle it. Check her website and follow her on Facebook and Instagram!!

To keep updated on new posts you can either follow me on wordpress, or like my page on Facebook, WONDEROAK Blog!

JOIN THE WONDEROAK SISTERHOOD

Shop Sister I Am With You shirts here

For every 20 shirts sold, one shirt will be sent to someone in need of some sisterly support (this is done via nomination on Facebook and Instagram).

Sister, I am with you is a message of solidarity between moms and women. It says I AM FOR you no matter what.

I don’t care if your house looks like the bottom of a cereal box. I don’t care if you’re makeup is fresh or three days old. I don’t care if you smile a lot, cry a lot, or yell a lot. I don’t care if you breastfeed or bottle feed, or if you like a glass of whiskey at the end of a long day. I don’t care if motherhood fits you like a glove or like a too-tight pair of pants that ride up the nether regions. I don’t care if you house smells like lavender or dirty diapers. I don’t care if you stay at home or have a full-time job. I don’t care if you’re keto or paleo or eat a lot of frozen pizza and carrot sticks.

I AM FOR YOU. Sister, I am with you.

10% of proceeds will go to Women for Women International to support and empower women in areas of conflict and war.

ALSO, join Wonderoak Tribe on Facebook.

I sometimes have bouts with anxiety. Occasionally that means full on meltdowns with scary, immobilizing thoughts and the world spinning without me. It means leaving the beach because I can’t stop crying and shaking. Other times it’s just little whispers in the back of my mind.

What I have learned about living fearlessly, is that it has nothing to do with how I feel. Anxiety tells me to STOP, to give up and to hide. And sometimes I do. But for me, the best way to tell anxiety to eff-off is by putting one foot in front of the other and to keep.on.moving. Living bravely is about choices.

I feel the same way about connection.

I am convinced that TRUE friendship and connection are THE most important things we can acquire on this planet. I also believe that the only way to find the real-deal is by CHOOSING to show up. Not just partly, but all the way. Choosing (not feeling) worthiness looks like pursuing friendships and being real.

I’ve always valued honesty, but several years ago I started getting more intentional with my truth-telling. I started sharing with old and new friends what I was really going through to see what they’d do. When they asked “How was your day?”, instead of a generic “Good”, I’d say things like, “Bad. I had the worst attitude about everything. I was so grumpy, and then I felt terrible that I was grumpy, so I became grumpier.” Or, “I was a complete stress case today about nothing. I was stressed about cheerios on the carpet and wearing pants.”

I talked about the things that were actually bothering me, instead of burying them.

I wasn’t sure how it would go, but it turned out to be a win-win. I guess they had crap to share too. They seemed glad that I was a safe-crap-place. We laughed at our idiocy together and felt each other’s pain. When I see Mount Kilimanjaro of laundry on my friend’s couch, I only feel very glad that we are couch-twinsies. Emotional laundry is the exact same thing.

One of my friends shared with me about her struggle with anxiety. She told me of throwing up she was so scared, and how she felt frozen with despair. I didn’t struggle with it as much then, but her bravery and openness brought us closer.

Five years after that I had one of the darkest times of anxiety I’d ever had. Every day I’d wake up with what felt like 100 pounds on my chest. I couldn’t connect to real life and the shaking would start early in the morning. Every week day for a month this friend showed up on my doorstep. She sat with me and said, “Okay, lay it on me, what are you afraid of today?”  I spilled out all my crazy embarrassing thoughts that I knew sounded nuts. I wondered aloud if I needed to go the ER or maybe to the mental hospital instead.

She’d look at me in the eyes and say,”You are not dying. ALL this is is anxiety. That is it. It will not stay.” I would cry until the tension in my chest would start to lift.

Not only is openness healing for you, but it creates a safe place for others to be open too.

Friends, we need each other. Live bravely today. Live shamelessly. There are people that will take your invitation. Not only will you find belonging, but most likely you’ll give the gift of it to someone else.

I heard recently that neither the darkness nor the light in the world give a crap about your past. One strives to steal your future, the other calls you to it. The best way you can lose the grip of shame is by sharing your stories and having someone receive you with open arms. Real friendship and belonging are birthed out of relaxing in our own skins and knowing we are safe and loved.

My friend, YOU ARE WORTHY and YOU ARE BRAVE. The world needs you just as you are.

***

For more like this, you can follow me here or on my Facebook page WONDEROAK Blog!