Wow. 6 months and my last Sakura Bloom Sling Diaries entry. On one hand, the time has flown by. On the other hand, my time as a Sling Diariest marks my time here in the Boston area: Pittsburgh feels so far away.
With my last entry, I’ve been given the task of writing about community. It feels so perfectly fitting.
It causes me to ache with the pain of missing my community back in Pittsburgh, only to wipe away the tears to reveal an incredible community here in our new village.
Neither better or worse, but each are beautiful in their own way.
I’ve moved a few times in my life, but many were when I was too young to remember. I did the back and forth from college for four years, moved to Pittsburgh after graduating, and hopped around a bit with apartments and our home there.
The packing of boxes.
The unpacking of them.
The purging. The cleaning.
All of those things are hard and fun and time consuming and real.
It’s the leaving though.
I’ve talked about it before, but the village we had was something special. The tribe of moms and dads and neighbors and friends became stronger with every life event. I understood the village needed to raise the children, and I saw its beauty firsthand.
Leaving our community. Leaving our village. It was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do.
With the pain of leaving, brought a door open to a new community. A different community. At first I didn’t want to open myself up — I wanted to pretend like we were embarking on a long vacation, only to return “home” after a short while.
But the problem with vacations is that they are temporary: it would be difficult for a tree to take root and really get grounded if it was only going to be there temporarily.
So I’m learning to take root.
I’m learning to let myself be loved by people. I’m learning to say yes when people offer to help. I’m striving to live like we’ll be here a long while, even though I have no idea how “while” our time here will be.
I’ve already learned so much during our short time here. I’m bringing aspects of my village with me, and seeing the beauty of this new village building. This community is beautiful, quirky, loving, and patient.
As much as I dread the sadness of someday leaving here–leaving this community–I can’t let the potential sadness keep me from being present and here. I want to need this community. I want this community to need me. I want my kids to see us loving our city and its people well.
Thank you, Sakura Bloom for this opportunity to be a Sling Diarist. I am honored to part of this community as well. There are some days I wish the internet would go away, but for the people it has brought into my life, I will forever be grateful.
My baby is one. The obligatory, “how did time go so quickly?” is required, but man it feels true. (I also wasn’t going for the on-purpose-crooked-“artsy”-photo in the cake pics above, but it was so bright, I couldn’t see very well as I was trying to avoid sitting on the sand. ha! So Rachel, don’t yell at me. ;)
Jones, in your one year, a lot has changed. One change that is probably the biggest and best (besides you just being in our family, of course), is the simple fact that we spend more time together. Less long days followed by late nights working. Saturdays are spent together instead of trying to finish up more projects.
We headed down to the quiet beach just a half mile from our apartment for a morning celebration. Harlow proudly carried the presents and then disappeared playing in the sand for the rest of the time. For the kid that used to hate how messy sand can be, she is turning into quite the beach bum. She would go to the beach daily, if she could, and I’m excited that summers can be full of beach and sand if we want them to.
Jones, you are following suit, and I’m not surprised. You love being outside. You love rocks and sand and water and adventure. Sometimes I look at you while your nursing or just snuggling, and I feel just as shocked that you’re here as the moment we found out little Jones Lauritzen was growing inside of me.
Jones, you bring so much joy to our family. Your smile is radiant — you love showing off those teeth! You want to walk everywhere and follow your sister wherever she goes.
I still sometimes feel immense guilt somehow that the two of your aren’t closer in age, but then I see the two of you together. If I’d gotten pregnant earlier, we would have missed out on you — God knew and our family is perfectly spaced and perfectly us.
Jones, you show your emotion in big ways. We never really need to wonder, because you have your smile and your lip pout perfected. You’re pretty easy going, until something you want is taken away. Then you show off your set of lungs, vocal cords and pout.
You are babbling up a storm these days. “Mama,” “amen,” “Dada,” “nanas,” and lots of copying all of the noises Harlow makes trying to get you to talk. She loves telling me, “mommy! Jonesy just said “Harlow, I think!” And on your birthday, she asked if you’d be able to start talking now that you were one. She is so eager to build forts and go on adventures with you! (She also has her 10 more siblings planned out, but I’m not sure she’ll be able to cash in on that anytime soon.)
You love playing peek-a-boo, although you usually cover your ears instead of your eyes, but I think it’s because you don’t want to miss out on our faces as we play. You giggle the entire time. You love “how big is Jonesy,” tickle time before bed, and Harlow’s favorite “drop your paci” every time you wake up. You usually drop your pacifier from giggling at her before reaching up to pull it out.
Jones, you fill our life with joy. You fill my days with anxiety….from how fearless you are. You like to run everywhere and climb everything. Flying with you has been …. interesting: you like being on the move.
But Jones, when you snuggle, you snuggle. You are such a good snuggler.
You light up when you daddy comes home. If I say, “go find daddy!” you run right to him. I love seeing your adoration for him and his adoration for you. He takes being a daddy to your sister and you so seriously.
I wrote this Sunday night, as I was nursing Jones before bed.
Jones, I’m putting you to bed as a one year old for the first time. One year ago, I couldn’t believe a day had already passed, but in this moment, the year has gone just as fast. This past year has been full, it has been hard, it has been good, and it has been incredible, because you are in it. People are drawn to you in a way I can’t describe. It could be your perfectly bald head, or your toothy full faced grin. I think it’s more than that, though. Your joy is so contagious, and it is one thing I pray that you never lose. Jones Lauritzen, we love you so. You may only be a tiny thing, but you’ve already changed our world in a huge way.
a strong desire to do or to achieve something, typically requiring determination and hard work
• desire and determination to achieve success
I love definitions. I love that even though the explanation written below a single word can remain the same, the definition can take on new meaning given one’s stage of life.
Ambition used to describe my desire to do well in school, music and art.
Ambition used to describe my desire to excel in my job and career.
And while the above still are true in some capacity, I don’t think anything fits the description of ambition more than my desire to be an great wife to my husband and amazing mom for my kids. “Requiring determination and hard work.” I’m not diminishing the ambition needed to do anything else, but in my life, I’ve never before tackled anything as difficult.
In the everyday mundane, there are many days I just don’t want do empty the dishwasher or dryer one more time. There are many days when I’m exhausted, and I don’t have another answer to “why?” Many most days, I simply don’t feel adequate to even begin tackling any of these roles, small or large.
Here is the thing that strikes me most about ambition: how do I measure success?
Some successes are easy to measure: grades, graduation, job. Success is relative, yes, we all have different measurements that are important to each of us, but what about success that isn’t as easy to measure? How do I measure my success as a mom? Do I keep a tally of I love you’s and kisses? Do I document minutes and hours spent with child? Do I correlate my mistakes with outcomes and try to do the same with “things I did right?”
Just last evening, Andy walked in the door of our apartment, and he could see it on my face. Crippled by my perfectionism, I was tallying my mistakes and being swallowed by them. Wrapping me in his arms, he reminded me of the grace I need to give to myself.
I’m going to mess up. I’ll probably always fight my desire to keep my ‘Motherhood Mistakes” tally, but I think sometimes the mistakes are part of the success, right? I want my children to hear me ask for forgiveness from them when I need it. I want them to see my constant prayers throughout the day. I want them to see that even with every ounce of determination and hard work to perfect my mothering skills, I will never ever be perfect.
Writing about health has me with a bit of writer’s block. Health: not exactly something I’m great about making a priority these days.
I’m usually grabbing a handful of chips and hummus for lunch – maybe followed by scraps leftover from Harlow and Jones. My mealsare forgotten. Workouts are few and far between. 2 pregnancies have done a number on my body, but I’m realizingthat focusing on my health is so much more than fruits, veggies and breaking a sweat.
I’m here at camp for the 26th year. My cell phone reception is pretty spotty, and I kind of hope that is one thing that never changes about this place. More time with each other and fewer distractions lead to memories made and cherished.
This year I am accompanied by not only my immediate family, but also in-laws and my sister’s in-laws. Harlow and Jones attend class with the children of friends who have known me longer than just about anyone other than family.
Having just moved to a new city, I have forgotten how refreshing it is to just be known. To not be exhausted from every conversation, even when they are so good.
I know this place isn’t “real life,” but I’m so thankful it’s a piece of my life.
Health is taking care of the health of my heart, too.
It’s easy to notice when I’m not taking care of my body: my jeans fit a bit tighter, my skin looks more dull, my energy is lacking. But an unhealthy heart begins to sneak up on me. Feeding my heart is often the first thing to go on the “do tomorrow” list. As a mom, my hope each night as my head hits the pillow is that my family has full hearts as their heads hit their own.
Did they hear and see how much I love them?
Did I tell them how special they are?
Did I spend enough time with each of them?
I want them confident of my love — I want them to be certain. But how confident am I of my love for me? Or even others love for me? Am I so busy that I rush past their outpouring of love? Do I slow down to let my heart be filled?
Being here this week is a reminder to slow down. A reminder to let myself be loved so that my heart health becomes a priority in my life.
When my heart is healthy, other things seem to fall into place. I have the ability to love more deeply and receive love in a new way. When my heart is healthy, I see more clearly the importance of healthiness in every facet of my life.
The beautiful thing though is that with each new day comes the opportunity to choose what to make the day. Will I let my heart be filled, so that I can pour it out?
I know the saying often goes, “happy wife, happy life,” but I think the more accurate statement for me would be, “choose a healthy heart, for each day is a fresh start.”
I’m signing off for the rest of the week. You can read more about my love for this place in this post. And the beauties in the photos with me are my older sister, Brianne and her sweet daughter, Myla. My little sister, Kaitlyn took the photos. Thank you, Sakura Bloom for this opportunity to once again slow down and reflect upon an aspect of my life that I would most likely gloss over. //
I’ll just be real: celebrating anything over 4 hours of sleep in a row is what I rejoice in these days. Exhaustion and mom-guilt get the best of me often when it comes to truly celebrating moments.
I find it easy to celebrate the things you’d maybe expect as a mom:
sleep-filled nights (can you tell I’m tired? ;)
potty training successes
new words
new skills!
new teeth!
But celebrating myself as a woman, wife and mom is something I avoid and shut down quickly. Whether it be a compliment or a milestone, I find reasons I failed in some way, instead.
I coulda…
I shoulda…
I woulda….
I want to be the mom who says thank you to a compliment instead of turning it down. I want my kids to see me rejoicing in small successes, so they learn to do the same.
It’s so easy for me to be too busy or distracted: the mom’s to-do list is never ending.
Celebration often feels like a ton of work. Well, maybe not a ton of work, but another thing on the list, for sure.
But I want to be the mom who celebrates finding petunias because “we can eat these mommy!” I want to be the mom who stops what she’s doing to celebrate the lego tower and the drawings. I want to be the mom who changes dinner to sandwiches, so we can spend more time celebrating a doll’s birthday at Ristorante Delicioso (that’s Harlow’s new restaurant, if you’re wondering).
I want to learn to stop and truly celebrate the tiniest of moments.
Since our move, I find myself longing for familiarity. And in small ways, that is starting to happen: I can even drive home from Trader Joe’s without using my GPS.
But the longing for a friend who’s known me longer than a few months is real. Friendships take time, and when I think about celebrating something, it’s the friends who have known me for years that I long to be with.
I know the days will be long, but the years will be short. Memories will be made and moments will be celebrated.
One thing we’ve celebrated as a family is the purchase of a home here in the Boston area! It’s been bittersweet for me, as sometimes I felt like we were just on a long vacation and heading back to Pittsburgh in due time. But knowing that we will have so many reasons to celebrate — both large and small — in this home together is what causes me to truly rejoice.
We go often to check on its progress and explore. We’ve named the bunny family in the backyard, Harlow’s claimed a bedroom, and I sit and pray for laughter and celebration to fill the now empty spaces.
I want to be a mom who celebrates home wherever home may be.
It’s easy for me to try to skip ahead into a home to settle into, nights filled with sleep and no more diapers. It’s easy for me to say, “I’ll celebrate then.” and “I’ll celebrate when…”
I don’t want to be a skipper, and I don’t want to wait. I want to stop and celebrate, even when my heart is missing family and feeling heavy. I want to stop and celebrate, even when I’m exhausted and sleep is all I want.
I want to be the mom who finds joy in the mundane and celebration in the chaos.
a thorough or dramatic change in one’s appearance, form, etc.
Most of us don’t go through life making drastic transformations overnight–growth is a process whether it is growing tall or wide. Change is often subtle and slow: it goes unnoticed in the day-to-day even though it is constantly at work.
As our lives were turned upside down from packing and purging and moving to a city, I knew transformation would be inevitable: new location, new normals, new routine. Ultimately we are the same people simply living in a new city, but all the newness provided the gift of a fresh start. Andy and I spoke at length about the habits we wanted to develop further and the habits we wanted to leave with our old zip code. We set a precedent from day one regarding how we managed and spent our time together and apart.
Since our move to Boston, I have seen beautiful transformation occur in all of us: a beautiful and thorough change.
Our time spent together is more often and less rushed. Our adventures are more frequent and intentional. Work is present, but not controlling, and priorities have shifted.
Motherhood changed me: it continues to change me. Every day is full of teachable moments and if I’m being honest, I’m usually the one doing the learning.
And while yes, some of the transformation is physical–my arms shake a bit more when I wave and I usually look 6 months pregnant at the end of the day, to name a few–but the transformation I see most drastically is the one within.
My days are spent putting others needs before mine — in the moments I find it most difficult, I am brought face to face with my own selfishness and need for change.
Change is often subtle, yes, but I don’t want to skip ahead. I want to maintain a pace that allows me to ache a bit with the growing pains. I want to be aware of the transformation occurring both in me and in the members of my family. I want to document the milestones, so that drastic change is noticed, yes, but if I had to choose, I want to be present and aware of the day-to-day subtleties even more. I’ll forever be one who loves the gift of a new morning, new month, or new year, but I want to fall in bed each night knowing that I was intentional about being present for the day and whatever challenge of change it brought me.
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