We are never going to be perfect. Sometimes we are going to be messy, and human, and moody.

Sometimes we are going to feel real crappy at this. That’s normal I think.

Sometimes we are going to lose our cool. Like when I held the tablet out the car window and threatened to let it break into one million pieces if EVERYONE DIDN’T LISTEN UP RIGHT NOW. I scared them so badly that then I spent 45 minutes comforting them.

I’m going to call this bonding.

Somedays we might not want anyone to touch us. We won’t want them to tap our face, or jump on our back, or caress our cheek tenderly. We won’t want to share our skin AT ALL on that day, and then we might wonder if Queen Cersei is more maternal than us.

Sometimes there’s going to be a thing “that good moms do” that we don’t want to do. Like crafts for example. Mostly I would rather light my own hair on fire than do a craft.

Sometimes we will want to escape from them. We will want to go somewhere without questions or sticky hands or crumbs. We will want to run and run and run and hopefully end up somewhere that has wine and back massages. If not, then Target will also work.

Sometimes we are going to feel more tired than loving. Like when my kids touch literally everything in a public restroom and I wonder if it is cool to use hand sanitizer on their entire body.

Sometimes we will spend a whole day just saying, “I just said DON’T do that!”

The thing is…

Sometimes we are just going to show up without any warm feelings, or nice thoughts, and it will still be love.

It will be an incredibly strong and resilient kind of love. It will be a mom kind of love.

Sometimes we are going to clean a disgusting toilet while also having an identity crisis (WHAT HAVE I DONE WITH MY LIFE) and it will be love.

Sometimes we are going to tell them “no” and they will not act loved. They will act very very mad and neglected, but it will still be love.

Sometimes we are going to cry in our pillow at night wondering if we are doing a good enough job…and it will be love.

Our love is often unseen and unsung, but it is real and true and beautiful.

I don’t care what your day was like today. I don’t care if you lost your temper or you never put on a bra or if you didn’t get out of bed…you are doing a great job. I SEE YOU. I see you putting bandaids on invisible owies and I see you microwaving quesadillas when you are long past running out of steam. I SEE YOU. I see you singing one last bedtime song when all you want to do is eat an entire Toblerone alone in the bath. I SEE YOU.

I also see that sometimes you don’t sing that last song. That’s OKAY too.

I hope you feel proud of the mom that you are. Not the mom you might be one day, not the one you wish you were, but the mom that you are.

Our kids are not comparing us to a supermom they saw on Facebook or Pinterest. They aren’t wishing we were someone else. They aren’t hoping that one day we will get it together and be more organized, and they aren’t embarrassed that we haven’t done laundry in three weeks.

No one is harder on us than us.

No one has an impossible standard for us…except for us.

Let’s stop wishing we were someone else. Let’s stop wishing for different strengths and gifts and be the moms that we already are. Crafts aren’t my jam. So be it.

Let’s give ourselves a giant break.

As long as we keep them off of Pinterest Birthday Party boards I think everyone is going to be just fine.

To my fellow warriors in the trenches I honor you today.

Today celebrate all your successes and all your wins.

Happy almost Mother’s Day. Now, let’s gear up for some  burnt toast and average flowers.

I SEE YOU.

XOXO

Jess

***

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

***

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I am forever grateful for my friend and her vast knowledge of obscure things.  I use her as a sort of brain crutch and text her things like; “Do I like guava kombucha?” and “If I mix vinegar and bleach will I die?”

She is now 9 weeks pregnant with her first, and last night she went to flush a banana peel down my toilet.

Dear friend,

Mom brain is real. Sorry about that.

In your honor, I have compiled a list of things that definitely happen to me barely ever all the time. You may or may not want to prepare for these things to happen to you. Or just get a tattoo that says, “I am not crazy, just tired.”

Tattoos look good on you, so maybe do that.

Love,

Jess

***

I give really good mom-speeches to my kids about how potatoes are not soccer balls, and “No more than one” marker tattoo on your illiterate little sister that says “boys rule”. I’m feelin’ real good about my magic with words, but their eyes are glazed with confusion.

“Mom, why did you tell Haven to stop singing soccer balls?”

The usuals. Throwing away keys. Putting ice cream in the refrigerator. Losing 17 debit cards in a row. Leaving the car running for four hours. Forgetting English. Telling my friend I don’t have any brothers, when clearly, I have a brother. Normal stuff.

Three trips to the grocery store for one meal. I am terrible at grocery shopping. I have friends who do a trip a week. I salute you. Have you considered starting a business to do this for other less skilled people? I come home with taco shells, sour cream, salsa and three things of raspberry fruit bars, feeling very pleased with myself.

At 5:30 I realize we are not vegetarians.

The one thing I have going for me is that I’m usually wearing a delightful combination of high-water sweat pants, snow boots and left over mascara my first grocery run of the day . I’m pretty sure they think I’m two different people.

I used to be a good student. Now my hand writing is not legible, and I would die without auto-correct.

When someone asks me a question and I feel like it’s a test.  My palms get all sweaty, I’m going to have to REMEMBER things.

“How was your trip?”

“What trip?”

“…your trip.”

“Oh! When I went to Seattle on Monday….right. I don’t remember.”

Or there’s the classic…

“How are you?”

“Gooooooooooooood, hahaha.” (I have no idea.)

Leaving my child’s shoes at the library. How does that even happen? How did I successfully walk to the car with my kid, never realizing – oh hey – they don’t have shoes on. Were they walking in their socks? Did they steal someone else’s shoes? I don’t even know.

Appointments. That is all. I really can’t talk about it without my heart rate rising. I will just say that things that include the words “drop-in” are more my style.

Losing all the things. I learned a long time ago to stop using the words: “I think my phone, purse, ID, credit card…were stolen.”. Oh…right, my phone is right here, in the underwear drawer (obviously).

Cooking mishaps. Making brownies for my friends that are the consistancy of tree sap and not at all chewable. Shattering our front window  because I preheated the BBQ (for an hour) right next to it, and setting all the utensils on fire because I forgot to open the lid.

Randomly screaming. Everyone is peacefully walking out of Costco when I see a SUV coming our way. I can’t get the words out fast enough as I see my four year old turn to get a wrapper off the ground. In decibels not safe for the human ears I scream – “STOOOOOOOP!!!”

Only thing is, Oaklee is still holding my friend’s hand and the Suburban of Terror was turning into a different row.

Guys, in my mind, it was real. I was having a heart attack – and now you are. You’re welcome.

Asking my friend to read my blog before I share it, to make sure I didn’t say anything insane. And if it is insane, that it’s at least funny-insane.

***

Carry on Momma! You are AWESOME, remember, NONE of us are perfect. We are just a messy band of sisters, showing up and doing our best in the most flawed of ways.

To find this amazing #mombrain hoody (which is SO cozy btw) check out WutheringIris on Etsy. My fabulous friend Jenn Hanson makes these as well as extremely adorable head bands (as seen)…(#momhair – can I get an amen?). You can follow Jenn @wutheringiris on Instagram.

You can follow me here at wonderoak.com or on my Facebook page WONDEROAK Blog!

In honor of us all being in this together – please share your best mom-brain moment!

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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.

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You have fire in your heart, and I can’t wait to see what you do with your passion. Today, screaming. Tomorrow, voice for justice. There are no limits to what you’re capable of. But today, I do have limits. So, please, stop screaming.

Love,

Mom

I have two wild girls at my house. They are not easily guided, and they challenge every boundary I set. They are not quiet and they have an opinion about everything. They are also passionate lovers and joyfully exuberant about life in a way that is contagious.

But a door or a barrier to them means one thing: bulldoze that thing.

If you too are raising a World-Shaker, here’s some survival tips:

1. Extreme Opinions. So there was that one time we went to Target and she became fixated on a pretty box of menstrual pads. You woulda thought it was a Tickle Me Elmo in 1996. She didn’t seem to care at all that I prefer non-adhesive or no wings OR that I wasn’t even on my period. The moment when she ran shrieking down the aisle holding a pack of feminine products though? That was special.

If this happens to you: Exit gracefully. And by gracefully I mean panic, leave your cart and your friend and remove screaming child to sanctity of her own car seat. Close car door and breath deeply for 90 seconds. You need a lot of things right now, oxygen is probably one of them.

2. ALL THE FITS. My mom tells me that I threw one or two tantrums as a child. She ignored me and I never did again. HOLD. THE. PHONE. Whaaaaaa? Those genetics were definitely misplaced somewhere along the way. I don’t even think I have them anymore.

The window being up. The window being down. The word “no”. Not being able to wear stilettos in the snow. Sitting. Wearing clothes. Not being old enough for hip hop class. Bedtime. Sharing. Eating food. Hair brushing. All extremely offensive.

If this happens to you: We adopted a Loving on Purpose technique for this. It’s called “Fun to be around? Or room”. Meaning: you’re welcome to keep throwing that fit, but not around me because my ear drums are going to blow as well as my patience. A girl’s gotta let off some steam sometimes. She will rage for a bit, and then say “I weady be fun.”#winwin

Confession: My husband and I totally ask each other, “Fun or room?”

3. All the Passion. My child has an intense aversion to “dirty”. And by dirty I mean: touched by specks of dirt not visible to the human eye. God help me if that happens in Costco. Nothing stresses out the elderly more than a two year old stripping in December. I used to think baby without socks in August caused a scene.

If this happens to you: Just say “DONALD TRUMP for president!” That is definitely more horrifying than your nearly-nude baby. Conversation evaded. Every-time.

4. Library Shenanigans. There they were. A sea of well-behaved children with baby Uggs and perfectly placed hair bows ready for story time. My child was doing some sort of dance that was half sitting down and half spinning on her head. I felt the need to intervene about the time she started petting the girl in front of her.

If this happens to you: Envision you’re on a beach in Cabo drinking a Mai Tai  and reading a fashion magazine. You are so cool in that world. Plaster a smile on your face and wink at curious onlookers. Cabo, Cabo, Cabo…

5. Wardrobe Battles. All they care about is hand-me-down dresses from the eighties and a shredded Tinkerbell costume. Also, have you ever tried to put pants on a person who does not want to wear pants? Let me ask you another question: have you ever been told not to stand behind a horse? Both are great ways to get kicked.

If this happens to you: This calls for a stealth-mission: Project Fashion Intervention. Long after bedtime, remove the offensive attire. Some things can go to the thrift store, most need to be torched.  Maybe a romantic bonfire with the hubs?

6. The Arch.  The arch is a technically difficult move that should probably be reserved for gymnasts. Instead it happens every single time I put her in her carseat. It is accompanied by a lot of screaming. I feel a bit misunderstood in my effort to keep her alive.

If this happens to you: Find a phrase to chant like, “I cannot die from piercing noises. I cannot die from piercing noises.” or “I’m an adult. I’m an adult.” Until calm is achieved. Remember to use your inside voice. Next, shout “KITTY!” and buckle seat like a ninja.

7. Hurt Feelings. Recently both my girls have discovered what they think is a ‘loophole’: The feelings.  “That hurts my feewings”. Putting clothes on? Not roaring so loudly? Sharing? Eating dinner? You guessed it. Emotionally damaging.

If this happens to you: Find something both wise and compassionate to say like: “I know honey, I’m sorry, now eat your asparagus.” Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. This technique pairs nicely with a glass of cabernet.

Let me be clear: what I’m not talking about is having an open-range home where we are bossed around by tiny dictators. We have the same boundaries we’ve had with all our kids.

Even so…In this day and age, where women are getting more of a voice than ever (but have a ways to go, amiright?) – I hope my girls’s vibrant spirits are never broken. I hope they learn compassion and kindness, but that their voices are never quiet.

I hope they bulldoze every door in their way.

For now though…I’m just trying to get some freaking hair ties at Target.

So, with a glass of cabernet in hand, I salute you mama. They’re going to turn out great.

What are your thoughts on raising the wild women (or men)???

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

He had one goal also: SLEEP.

Finally I’d think of a point SO GOOD he’d fall silent. I was sure he was speechless with my wisdom, and I would let the victory spur me into more knowledgeable insights and quotable thoughts. I was five minutes in before I’d recognize the sound of heavy breathing. He hadn’t just “drifted off”, the man was in some sort of euphoric coma. He had MISSED my moment and he still did not know that I was RIGHT.

I’d turn on all of the lights and open all my dresser drawers just to slam them again. I’d grab my water from his side of the bed by “accidentally” trampling him with all my limbs. When all else failed I would drive around town until two in the morning eating tacos. Finally my passion would dwindle and I would go home, conceding only because I was sure he would be worried, that he’d be awake, and right where I wanted him…in the depths of despair. Instead he was snoring. Snoring is annoying.

We’ve been married almost ten years now. Still we fight. Not as much. But still, sometimes, I bring out all my ugly in front of him.

But I don’t think that’s because my marriage is hard.

We are vulnerable, we are raw, and we show all our ugly, because we are safe for each other. He loves me with my crap, and he tells me to stop it. And that’s what I need. My marriage is my best place to be real. Messy as it may be, it’s my favorite.

In our 10 years (of short) experience, here are 10 things we have learned and live by:

1. Our marriage isn’t defined by the hard stuff. Sometimes all the cars break, and the blender breaks, and I get the kids to school an hour late. Sometimes I set the cooking utensils on fire and shatter a $400 window. Sometimes there are surprise tax payments and a son who decides to put beads in his ears.

There are all the little things. There are also the harder things like miscarriages and broken friendships. LIFE is challenging, but at the end of the day we are on the same team. Our marriage isn’t about life’s obstacles,  and we are stronger together.

2.We mess up. We make mistakes and it is not pretty. But we stay, we show up, and we forgive. It’s taken time, but we know now: there’s no better person on earth to fail around than each other.  I know that his messes and his ugly don’t make me less, and they don’t make him less either, and then we can fight things together. That’s what best friends do. When I say I’m flawed and I can never change, he says BULL, and he is right. We are better and stronger when we listen and are safe and we forgive.

3. It’s okay to lose it. We’re not each other’s mentors, bosses, or parents. We’re each other’s friends, confidants, and partners. Sometimes after the end of a long day of keeping it together, we fall apart. Because we can. We cry. We say we can’t do it anymore. We let all the thoughts OUT, and it’s good.

4.We are each other’s most important cheerleaders. This man has seen me in sparkly gaucho pants, light blue crocs, and a pregnant belly. He’s with me every morning when I stumble my way downstairs for coffee and can only communicate in grunts and swear words. If anyone knows, he knows, and he says I have what it takes to conquer my dreams. So…I must.

5. Sometimes he forgets what it’s like to be at home with kids. Sometimes  he says, “If you would just look at our two year old, and raise your one eyebrow at her like I do, then she would listen and you wouldn’t want to bash your head against the wall.” But then he stays home instead of me, and after he needs to go into the mountains for four hours, and so he knows.

6. Sometimes I forget to ask him how his day was. I forget that he just worked 12 hours, and all I care about is that he changes the diaper, and that he casts a magic spell on the chaos to make it STOP. But then I remember and I make gin and tonics and his favorite burritos, and we high five because we each survived this day #likeaboss . 

7. It’s good to let things go. Sometimes we have to change our minds about things, like how he decided to think it’s cute that I lose everything and that I never have my own socks, so I borrow his. He decided to think it’s cute instead of  annoying, and that was nice of him. I decided to like shows about cars and pawn shops, especially if it involves my back being rubbed.

8. We have friends besides each other. We have other people too. He has poker nights and bro-trips and I have the best-besties a girl could ask for.  People we do life with and are absolutely real with. We are big on being authentic and if we’re struggling we talk about it. We need community to be healthy.

9. We still adventure. We love adventure. We still have theme parties and go out dancing. We sold our house so we could go to Costa Rica and take our kids across the country in a camper. We have lone ventures too, and are quick to accommodate each others’ plans. Settling down does not mean we have to settle-in.

10. We are, and we always will be, best friends. Yes lovers. Yes parents. Also best friends. People that love to talk to each other about anything and everything. The silly things, like how I was so tired I almost tried to pay for my Americano with a bowl of oatmeal this morning, or how his day was just the worst. Being BFFs is about having secrets that no one else will ever know, about dreaming together, about always having each others’ backs, and thinking the best, not the worst.

He is my best friend and I like him. I think he’s funny and smart and that he is the best dad. I like that he thinks its cute when I cry, and funny when I’m angry. And if I’m going to be hangry or unreasonable or frazzled or depressed, I’d rather be that way with him than any other place on earth.

Because the thing is, our marriage is a place for our most ugly, but it’s also a place for our best and our most beautiful.

For more reading like this check out 10 Reasons to Stop Judging Parents.

You can follow me here or like my Facebook page WONDEROAK Blog, to stay updated on new posts!

Special thanks to Sands of Time Design for my feature photo!