An Address to the Skeptic: I am a Mother of 3 under 4 at 27.

I must admit that I have been thinking about the impending birth of my third child and what it means to other people in general and what it means to other people about me.  And I would like to say that I frankly do not care, but that would not be genuine and untrue. I do care, but not in the way that it makes me feel–not in my own insecurities, but in the way it translates to how other young mothers/families may feel.  I warn you my thoughts and words may seem brash, but I know so many mothers who do not have to words to say what I hope to.

Don’t think I don’t notice your eyes drift to my swollen belly as you watch me holding the hand of my 3.5 year old, carrying my 1.5 year old on my hip while hauling my diaper bag on my shoulder as a walk into the grocery store. Don’t think I didn’t catch the disapproving undertones in your voice as you boldly declared how close together they are, or how “full” my hands will be very soon.  Don’t think I know you may not have chosen this life for yourself. And certainly don’t think that I don’t know you believe the circumstances of my life to have been an accident.  My choices aren’t your choices and they don’t have to be your choices and I feel sorry for you that you cannot separate my life from yours.

The truth of my life is that I grew up in a good home. I am college educated. I have worked in my field of study. I have owned 2 homes and 3 cars. I am married to an outstanding man who sees me truly as an equal and lets me be me. I am 27 years old.  In less than a month I will have three beautifully superb daughters under the age of 4. I do not belong to a faith in which, culturally, many kids close in age are customary; and to many people’s surprise, I have utilized contraceptives willingly and happily.

My husband and I chose our children almost as much as God chose us to be their parents.  We wished for and longed for these girls.  And they were not a surprise or a mistake. They were intended and prayed for. They were deliberate and a gift. We are aware of our age. We are aware of their ages. We are aware that child rearing is difficult and taxing. To many, that seems a shock that this could “happen” to two informed people. Two informed, young (although on the back half of my twenties, not by any means old, but moving out of young) adults. We, as a couple, made this choice because we love our children–we love having children. We chose them because of the immeasurable joy they bring to our lives daily, despite the constant hardships of being a parent. It makes us long for more of that. It is a reflection of the Father to be in their presence and it is so sweet. It is life and discovery. It is imagination and adventure. It is innocence and curiosity. It is peace and true, unadulterated, unconditional love. And we LOVE having that in our lives. We love being with our kids so much that one, even two was not enough. And the importance of their possible friendships with one another drove us to have them close–for them to love each other, forgetting how hard it will be for us to juggle it all. And for us, because children are magical and fulfilling.

For those that think they are being witty and conversational when they remind me I’ll have to get a bigger car, or my life will be crazy, or how busy I’ll be–just don’t. These are all truths I recognize and I accept and I do not find the humor in your reminders.

For those who feel it appropriate to ask me if any of my children were mistakes–what makes you think that is acceptable to inquire of a stranger. How bold and offensive. My children are gifts, not mistakes. Shame on you for making mothers feel ashamed and embarrassed.

And finally, for those people who ask me if child rearing is so hard, why do I do it at all? Why should they do it? Because for every story I have of life being hard, I have a thousand of life being grand with them, because of them.  My life is an extreme adventure around every corner. I have not the time or the space to tell you everything there is and why children are every drop worth it. It fills my heart to the brim. And experiencing the love they have for me and the love I have for them is a blessing. It is a gift. And I feel confident that you will love it, too–and be great at it.

You will say what you will, but I am not sorry for myself. I am sorry for you that you cannot see my joy. That you cannot feel how big my heart is for them.

I am not sorry. I am not ashamed. I will not make excuses for you any longer to help you feel more comfortable with the way I have chosen to live my life–the way that many families choose to live their lives.

 

Slow Liberation from Excess

Right after Ember was born Eric and I bought our first home. It was a cute, suburban, cookie-cutter, beige house. It had a nice groomed yard right next to the park. Three bedrooms, two and a half baths, two car garage, and a basement. It was perfect–for someone else.

As our town grew and grew over the two years we owned that house, property values increased and people flocked to our old neighborhood.  It was a great place for people to get the best value for their money. Best bang for your buck, if you will.  The schools were good, the yards maintained, and the neighbors were nice. A place where one could raise a family.  But as we passed our time there as first time parents, our hearts were discontent.  Our house had no character–no squeaky floors, no charming historic accents, no real quirks or warmth. We felt so disjointed with what we owned, yet we worked relentlessly on making it our own.

Towards the end of our second year as homeowners we had our second daughter, Elodie.  Each of the girls had their own rooms and closets with plenty of space to spare for toys, books, shoes, and clothes.  We wanted for nothing in our home. But still, we struggled, a little less each month, but we still struggled with living where we were. So, we decided to sell our home and move.

It sold at an alarming rate and soon we were left trying to find a new home to call ours.  Eventually we found a teeny tiny 103 year old house in a small old town neighborhood. If we wanted to live there, we couldn’t afford a bigger home.  We saw this home, and in the shambles it was in, thought that we could make this our place. We could raise our family here.  The house is a little over half the size of our first home. It has only one bathroom and only two bedrooms.  It has two small closets (one in each bedroom) and no pantry to speak of.  The kitchen is tight, the master bedroom has no room to spare, and the girls are sharing a room. Soon they’ll be sharing it with their new sister, too.

We downsized a little earlier in life than we anticipated. We are still getting rid of furniture in droves.  My winter wardrobe is smaller and in containers under my bed.  I donated dishes and kitchen ware, toys and clothes, and found a way to keep food for my growing family stored in only one small cabinet and the fridge.

You know, though? Never once have I wished any part of my home were bigger.  A pantry would be helpful, yes, but I’m not lacking anything.  A transformation is happening in my heart and soul and I am still happy, happier even, with less. It’s an amazing thing really.  I was sitting in a home several weeks ago and it is grand, beautiful, and fully furnished. “How nice,” I thought. I sat bewildered at the space for a family of three. I sat there admiring the play room, the sitting room, the family room, the gourmet kitchen, the five bedrooms, the large basement never once imagining myself there some day.  Amazing, really.

With this gradual release of my possessions and things I’ve accumulated over the years I feel a gradual growth of my own soul.  So much of what we carry with us is meaningless. It’s stuff that fills boxes that sit in our attics until we move again. They are things we never return to, but won’t part with because we are innately selfish. It’s just….it just is unnecessary.  It’s stuff that ties us down and fills our pockets until there is no room left for what is really meaningful.

While I still have a long road to travel in shedding my excess, I believe I’m headed in the right direction.  And I’m not thinking about what’s next. I’m living in my home with my family right now. I’m not lusting over the next house, town, space, things, fill in the blank. I’m not looking back, either.

I’m in love with my tiny home and where we live. I love its rickety 100-year-old wood floors, its art deco tombstone door out to my laundry room space; I love its clothes drying rack in the back yard. I love its quaint rooms and high ceilings. I love that it’s been here for nearly four times my lifespan. I love that my family of 4 (soon to be 5) fits here and that it’s uniquely ours.  It’s perfect–for us.

Thoughts on Being me. And other Artist-y things.

Yes. This space has been neglected. Ok. The elephant has been addressed.

I realize I only visit this space anymore when I feel a certain longing in my soul. When I’m blue and lost. When there’s a void that can’t be filled by Netflix, wine, and stuffing my face with the candy I was supposed to give Ember. Ha. 

Did you know I was/used to be/maybe still am an Artist? Yeah, I often forget too.

I remember a conversation I had with another fellow artist friend some time ago now about being an artist. What it REALLY means to us Artists. And how other “non-Artists” just don’t get it.  We talked about how being Artist is a hard journey to be on (stop rolling your eyes, you don’t get it ;). An Artist’s identity is so much about being an Artist. To be creating, and thinking, and making, and using tools, hands, colors, light, ideas. It NEEDS to be what we DO. It’s how we define ourselves. You know. And when we aren’t doing those things…when we become so much of something else that our Artist self isn’t showing anymore, there is a tremendous disconnect between the path that is physically being walked by our own two feet and where our heart and minds think/hope that they are headed. Que the blues.

But I suppose it’s not just the blues. It’s one of those moments when you see someone in front of you but they are clearly somewhere else. And you ask what they are thinking of and they don’t even realize you are speaking. And when they do, they can’t tell you because they were lost and even they were unsure about what they were thinking about? Never had that experience? Well, like I said earlier, it’s a void. A deep void. It’s easily filled by other things, but never satisfied by anything but creating, manipulating, doing, being an artist.

So…”Create!” You command. “Go, do your artist thing. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

But, alas. No. Not easy peasy. Because I am an artist still, you know. No one tells me what to do. 😉

 

 

The Same, but Different

Ember’s been snacking on her art supplies. (:

It often surprises me that I sometimes struggle to find my voice. Be it in conversation with others, writing here (or in any space), and even in my visual art it can sometimes be an enormous mountain for me to climb. For being a person, that I think, speaks her mind with ease and confidence (sometimes a little too much confidence) I have noticed that the times that I really need to shout “Hey, I’m having a difficult time over here,” and I mean really shout…I find myself saying softly amongst a crowd in a whisper, “Hi. I’m kinda having a bad day. But, I know you’re busy so….ok” instead.

I guess it’s part of the complexities that make me “me.” And I know that it’s one of those whole swirly mess of personality traits that I’d rather smother under a good book that lets me wallow all by myself. I also know that it’s something I’d like to change about the way I deal with adversity in order to operate as a more healthy and functioning individual.  But/and it has been the quintessential thing that has made me aware of how my life and my surroundings are changing.

I’m not sure if they’re changing rapidly, or if they’ve been sneaking around behind my back for ages now trying to get things done and on with, but I do know that I’m feeling it more than ever in the core of my emotional and introspective being. And let me be the first to point out that my current state (I’m VERY pregnant) IS contributing to this “despair” and that if I could pull myself out of irrational hormones for just one little second I would realize that things ARE in fact changing and I AM a little tender about it, but there’s no need to cry over the fact that Ember sticks her fingers in her yogurt every…single…morning.

We recently made a decision for our family that completely and utterly altered our lives and our community–a life and a community that we had spent the last six years building. That we invested time, money, laughs, cries, and you name it in. We do believe that we have made the right decision and that we were obeying God’s call, but we were kidding ourselves if we thought that things would carry on as they were, that things would be the same, but different. I know that when you make a change your subconscious exudes it despite your best efforts to keep it under control, thus contributing to the fact that people and things react/act towards you differently than before. But, as always, that’s only one side of the story.  And it’s both sides if our story that has me in a certain frenzy of self-realization and almost loneliness. So now we are just floating in this in-between-world of “where do we really belong?” and “who really loves us?”

So, with sparing you the gory details (although I know some of you are DYING to know 😉 I thought I’d be a little real with you about the state of Emily A. Doran right now. It’s been hard.  Being at home (while what I want to do) can be so isolating, especially when I accept that my social life is changing, and not just in a “I can’t go out whenever I want” sort of way.  Ember and I are SO similar that we get frustrated with each other easily, all. the. time.  Being pregnant doesn’t help. I have become a human jungle gym now that I have a toddler and my aching body can’t handle it.  For some unbeknownst reason to me if I have to make a phone call for work (and it’s only for work calls) it sets of an alarm in Ember that reminds her to scream her best scream so that I have to make the phone call in the bathroom with the door shut.  And then there’s the ever-present money issue. Ugh, do I even have to go there, I mean, most of us get it anyway. I miss my friend Brittany a great deal. I’m on the computer/my phone/email more than I want to be. And the only things I’ve gotten for the new baby is a pack of diapers and a swaddling blanket. To top it all off, I feel like my options for my go-to “get it off my chest” friends are rapidly dwindling as schedules tighten and lives change. And I am deeply saddened by this reality even though I know it’s a product of natural life happenstance and probably a tale that will be revisited time and time again.

For now, I’m working on saying “goodbye,” and “thank you,” to the way my life was just a short time ago and working on welcoming the scary and new. But, it’s going to take me a few tears, one or two heart aches, and a bit of time to come around. I know I’ll come out on the other side.

Well, excuse me…Did I do something for you to dislike me?

Ember at our story time quite some time ago.

I must sadly admit that I have had this post sitting in my drafts for over ten days now. I apologize for my lack of urgency in posting it. I think I’m finally starting to settle into a better routine for my life…thus, I’m hoping that more regular posting will return (:

…………………………………………….

I’m not a stay at home mom. I’m a work at home mom. I am employed, I bring in a regular paycheck, I pay income taxes, I clock hours, I have staff meetings, I deal with customers.  I just do all of this from home (or my boss’ home). But because I have the ability to work from my kitchen table, I get to keep my daughter with me. I get to take breaks during the day to go to the library, the park, sometimes even the zoo! I get to operate like a stay at home Mama, but with more obligations to someone else.

Instead of my work being centered around taking care of my kids and my home, it’s centered around my kid(s) and my customers. Yes, my home suffers, yes, my husband helps me make dinners nightly, and clean the house on the weekends.  The laundry piles up, the dust gathers, the dishes sit in the dishwasher longer than I’d like. But, my energy must be focused else where during the day. Ember’s naps don’t belong to me, but to my work. But, I guess this might be a post for another day.

What I really wanted to say is that even though I’m not a stay at home mom, I get to pretend I am in public.

When a Facebook Status is a Cry for….Fill in the Blank

We have all had those friends, or even been guilty of this ourselves, who over share and over post details about their lives on Facebook. Yes. You know it’s true. I’ve done it, probably too much. And I wanted to bring it up here in this space, not because I’m referring to any one specific person/moment, but because I think it’s a weird phenomenon that’s been occurring with not only my generation, but also generations before and after mine. Ok, so set aside the idea for a minute that Facebook is a weird, border-line narcissistic, phenomenon all together; let’s focus on what people sometimes choose to share “what’s on their mind.”

I remember moments where I’ve typed something out in my status bar, hit send, and immediately thought….”oh boy. Shouldn’t have done that.”

Do not fret

I have not forsaken my blog. I have just dropped off the face of the Earth for the last month.

 

But, now that I have finally forked over the cash for my own internet, I should have fewer problems. See you soon. I have so much to talk about!

Heaven is for Real

I devoured this book by Todd Burpo, Heaven is for Real, in two short hours. I flipped through the pages weeping, laughing, smiling, imagining, and gasping, “wow.”

Two weeks ago I was on the phone with Brittany, my dearest friend, and she asked me what books I was reading. I had disappointingly responded with “Oh, not much that’s too exciting.” She and I usually trade titles and have wildly exciting discussions about the books we are reading, but this time only she had something to discuss.  I, on the other hand, have been trying to dive into parenting books, or statistical type reads only to get partially through and slow my progress way way waaaaayyyyy down until they’re just another chunky object filling up coveted space in my purse. To remedy this, she suggest Heaven is for Real.

Thanksgiving

For the people who know me pretty well they know I’m really not into the Holiday Hullaballoo of Christmas. While, don’t misunderstand me, I LOVE Christmas, I am just not into the “three-months-of-holiday-cheer” and over-played Christmas music.  I am excited for Christmas every year, but this year especially because this will be Ember’s first Christmas in the world! I’m so excited.  But, I get this excited every year for Thanksgiving. I’m not sure why, but this is one of my favorite holidays.

I love Fall. I think this is probably why I love Thanksgiving.  I also love its name. Thanksgiving.  It’s such a great reminder to really count your blessings and see what you can do for others. Not that we should need one day to commemorate our thankfulness, but in such a consumer driven society I think it’s beyond fantastic that we do have one.  To ground us. To keep us humbled. To keep us amazed at God’s amazing generosity (which Eric and I have been recipients of tremendously this year).

This will also mark the first Thanksgiving in our new home.  I am SO totally stoked this year to host a small gathering at our house for our siblings and our folks. And because Eric and I aren’t too fond of plain ol roasted turkey. We’re going to make awesome Turkey sandwiches. I plan to have thick cut strips of bacon, some avocado, some to die for bread, a few nice sauces. But, I don’t want to give it all away so I will stop there. We have decided to make Thanksgiving playful and unique this year. Who knows, maybe we’re starting our own, new tradition!

So, in honor of Thanksgiving, here are some things I’m thankful for in this moment, right now. Thanks God, you’re pretty awesome.

-Ember and Eric. Goes without saying, but these two are my life.
-My home. When so many don’t have adequate housing, we are truly blessed
-My job. While I hate leaving my lovelies, I’m thankful for the income I am able to provide
-Our community of friends and family
-Eric’s job. God has continued to shower him with blessing after blessing there.
-Our church
-My Health Insurance. I take this one for granted a lot, but I really do appreciate it
-My Zoo pass
-And most of all, the fact that I have a Father who loves me unconditionally, provides for me always, and promises me forgiveness no matter what I’ve done or what I will accomplish.

Happy Holidays Y’all. The Season has begun!

Photo from Leftovers.com

The Denver Zoo! (Image Heavy)

Last weekend we bought a Zoo pass.  Since then we have already  been twice!  Once as a family and once with Megan and Noah. We had so much fun–the weather was perfect for active animals and one of the days we practically had the zoo to ourselves.  Ember loved the kangaroos, the bears, the sea lions, and the fish.  Noah made us go back and see the giraffes three times!

I have this fantasy of going often; and when Ember gets older I’d love to pick a few animals, learn about them through books, then go visit them at the Zoo. I’ve been thinking about activities to keep us busy and learning as Ember grows and I think the Zoo will top our list of places to go and things to see. Eric and I are already trying to practice positive family activities with Ember. She might be a bit young to really grasp some of the activities that we’ve started doing, but it’s more of trying to get our family into a habit.  As a result so far, Eric and I have been enjoying our time together as a family so much and have found that it makes our weekends feel longer. Who doesn’t want that? Do you have any ideas for our family to do or try?

Here are some pictures from our first two of many trips.