The weight of the world.

Things like this are hard to write.

I’m sharing something I have actually sworn up and down I would NEVER post about in a blog or on social media. I seem to be doing a lot of those things lately…things I swore I’d never do. Although, this one really takes the cake. (Pun intended.)

I’ve lived the last decade of my life slowly (but surely) packing on pound after pound. I’ve turned to food in crisis, in celebration, in joy, and in silent moments of despair. I’ve gained and I’ve lost and I’ve dabbled in diets and workout plans, workout partners, and every fad under the sun.  I want off the rollercoaster.

I’ve realized in this last year, despite all of my earthly gifts and possessions, my beautiful family, my sweet babies, my businesses, my home, friends, and faith…that there is more. There’s more to life and I have to chase it.

Body image, food issues, weight, size, shape…it consumes us…all of us, in some way or another, no matter our size. I’m over it, to be honest. So, I’m giving it another whirl.

It’s so hard to talk about these things….embarrassing. But why? Why does it have to feel that way? We are all the same…our vices might differ, but our desires are the same. I’m not even really sure what my ultimate goal is, to be honest. Peace with myself, and a healthier body. To feel better in my own skin. I’ll start there.

It’s scary to put things out there that make you feel ashamed. So for anyone who’s ever cried over a plate of leftover pasta…you know…the leftovers from 2 hours ago when you stuffed yourself with the first plate?, this is for you. For anyone who’s ever piddled around a clothing store waiting for people you knew to leave so you could go grab your actual size, this is for you. For anyone who’s ever felt so lonely and isolated, no matter how many people were around you, because you just couldn’t get past the shame of your size, this is for you. For anyone who’s downed a second meal in a parking lot…stuffing yourself so full you were physically ill, but couldn’t fill an emptiness that all along no amount of food could fill, this is for you.  And for any other person who might just feel like the daily grind and the stress of life is just too heavy and there must be more. There is more. Whatever that means for you individually, I’m not sure…I just know it has to be true.

So with a lump in my throat and trembling fingers…I’m putting out into the universe that I’m tired of feeling this way, and if you are too, you’re not alone. Let’s do this thing. We can do it.

My only wish and prayer is that long after I’m dead and gone…no matter how things shake out with my life…or how huge or tiny or fat or thin I ever was …that my heart was always the biggest thing about me.

A letter to my daughter on her first birthday

My sweet Avenue Cora,

Tonight, I picked you up, changed you, kissed every inch of your soft, baby chub body….each arm roll and chubby cheek, laid you down on the last night before you turn one, left the room, and cried.

When I think about your presence in our lives, despite every fiber of my being trying to find a more eloquent and artistic word, the only one that repeats in my mind is joy.

You are a calm and laid back old soul, with a streak of fiery stubbornness. I’ll never forget when they laid you on my chest, looking down at the top of your head and being in complete and utter shock that you had red hair. My sweet ginger baby, our special gift.

I have thought about what to write in this letter to you for almost a month, and continuously avoided it, knowing that as soon as I sat down to think about putting into words what you mean to me and what I someday wanted you to know…would be emotionally hard to bare.

As I sit here with a permanent lump in my throat, a flood of things are coming to me of things I want you to know.

As you go through life, there will be situations where you are bullied and objectified. You will be told your body is too big, too small, that your hair is too red, that you wear too much makeup and not enough make up. You will choose the wrong friends sometimes, and you will hurt others. You will be excluded, and it will hurt. You will be told your opinions and feelings don’t matter, and it will hurt. You will be told you’re not smart enough, not good enough, not pretty enough, or not nice enough. When you are kind and soft, you will be thought of as weak and when you are brave, bold and tough you will be thought of as too aggressive.

My painful and overwhelming longing is that you are instilled with enough fearlessness to not give a thought or care to any of those opinions and social judgements cast upon you the minute you entered human existence. I would love to say that I could protect you from all of it, but the reality is, I can’t. I have the same painful longing as every mother in all realms of time to keep you from the world’s cruelty, but it will come. I only hope that I can guide you to love yourself and others enough to have your light shine brighter than any of those clouds of darkness.

 
I want you to know that you can do absolutely anything you want to do. Having a daughter has lit a fire in me to raise you to believe that about yourself, and to raise a son who sees women as not only an equal counterpart, but more than that try to completely erase or at least blur those lines that some parts of society will try to create in your mind for you both.

You are serious, but sweet.

You are strong-willed and relentless, but hilarious.

I want you to know that the right thing is rarely the easy thing, but do it anyway. Be kind, gracious, generous, and forgive. No, you won’t know that the homeless person you hand money to won’t spend it on something else than what you're giving it for. Give it anyway. You are my beautiful prize, my precious ruby. I love you more every day.

As I sit here and think about all of the amazing things, the hard times are easily masked. But the reality of motherhood is that the hard times are very real. There are days I know I don’t give you enough of myself. I know I don’t feed you as healthy as I should or spend as much quality time as I could. There are times I am so frustrated and exhausted from the constant of this stage of life, I let go emotionally and pray for bedtime to come faster, and last longer. I have learned from others that I will someday be longing for this time back, but for now, living in this stage of life, that sentiment is masked by exhaustion and a loss of personal freedom. I try to hold on to those words of the wise and cherish moments I can’t get back.

Your brother adores you, as we all do.

He has reached the beginning of the lifelong stage where he gets so much joy out of terrorizing his sister.

I don’t think this will ever end, but I hope and pray neither will his love for you or desire to protect and defend you to the death. He will always need his sister. Be there for him, love him, and remind him of his talents and his worth. You are so different from him, you are so sure of yourself (already) and always have been. “Mentally tough” is how we’ve described you in your first year. Fearless and unphased…a problem solver. I hope you keep that.

My life has been fuller, happier, and so very rich with you in it. I love you forever and always, my sweet honey bear.

Xoxo….

Your Mama  

A letter to my son on his 4th birthday

My Kroy,

This year, I write this early…to ensure a final letter to you as my only child.

What a year your third has been. Last bits and glimpses of toddler no longer…you are now a little boy.

My heart is so full and aches so much back and forth, as I am learning…still…the hard way, that your entire life will continue to be a series of firsts and lasts and everything in between.

The first time you accomplish things on your own, the first time I witness you being a bully, the first time you repeat things (good and bad) that you have learned, the first time I see the look on your face when I’ve let you down.

The last time you’ll ask me to hold you, or carry you, or snuggle you, the last time you say certain (grammatically incorrect) phrases that are the cutest things I’ve ever heard. Like “Dark Bader” (Darth Vader) or “Are you true?” (Is that true?)
The last time you’re interested in certain toys or the last time you call me mommy. (Almost always mom now.) :-(
Firsts and lasts…so many that have already passed us by, and so many more that are to come.

This year, a big first to come….big brother.
So far, you have taken on the idea of that role well. At first you said you didn’t want a sibling, and then you thought…well, it’s baby Briar in there. But as we have talked and prepared, now you know that a sister is coming, she is yours, and you don’t want to hold her if she’s crying. You also know her name, that you would prefer she didn’t sleep in your bed, and a list of things you will teach her. From day 1, you told us that the baby was a girl, a sister. I believe you actually knew.

There are days I worry…what if you don’t feel as loved as you did before your sister came? But then again, I worry a lot these days. I worry about what is happening when I’m not around…and can’t always protect you from a broken heart, a broken leg, or a broken spirit? What if you find yourself unhappy or down a path you didn’t want? What if the wrong people influence you, or the world is ugly? What if I don’t teach you well enough how to treat others, how to persevere, or how to love?
What if I’m not enough?

You see, there are a lot of days…I fail you. I’m too quick to throw on a movie, or tell you “no, pump your feet” when you’re begging me to push you on the swing at the park. (Another thing, someday soon, you’ll never ask me to do again.) I lose my patience, I’m on my phone, or I’m distracted by other things. I vow to be better, to try harder, to love you with more dedication, and to give you more.

You are my most cherished prize in this universe. You are funny, smart, and so strong. You are inquisitive, a little standoffish at first, and can be so serious. Your giggle and outbursts of laughter send me into a euphoric state of understanding, in that moment, what life is about.

You have given me more in (just shy of) 4 years of life than all of the 26 before you combined. You are my greatest treasure, my heaviest burden, my biggest worry, my highest priority, my best source of laughter, and my sweetest guy. My “sweetheart guy.” Sometimes I will ask you, “who are you?” and you will still answer “your sweetie.” Oh my heart…yes, you are. You are and always will be. No matter how many siblings you may have through life, whether it be 1 or 10…you will always be my first, and we were in this together from the beginning.

You are adventurous, brave, and so athletic. You love all things sports, swords, dad, superheroes, and anything that you can ride, throw, or get your hands dirty with. You are not very good at sharing (but we’re working on it.)

I love you more than life itself. And as I sit here full of emotion and many tears, I can’t help but think about all the firsts ahead this year for you…becoming a brother, starting pre-school, starting wrestling, (maybe hockey?), and all the things that will come along with those…I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude that I get to be your mom. I wish I could save you from life’s heavy burdens…but I can’t. All I can do is try to prepare you as best I can for you to be able to carry them well on your own. They will slowly stack upon your shoulders as the years go on and life becomes crueler, harder, and heavier. But I will always be right by your side, no matter what.

This parenting gig...it is hard. I must admit, I’m not always the best at it. Thank God I have your dad along on this ride with me, as he is your rock, your greatest role model…your favorite. (And mine too.)

Next year, I’ll write about your first year as a full-fledged little boy…but for now, this mama’s heart is aching that you are so big, so grown up, and my time with just you and you alone is soon coming to an end.

If nothing else in life, always remember these things: be kind, be free, and you are so loved.

With many tears and all the love in the world,
Xoxo…
Your mom

When your heart has room for 13 more.

It’s hard to put something into words when you feel so strongly about it you could burst.

There’s been something on my mind…almost daily…for the last 5 months.  Something that has come up in almost every conversation, and seeped into my heart slowly where it will rest always.

The Alexander Comets.

Far past the glow and the shiny surface of brand new uniforms and national media coverage, stands 13 high school boys that changed the course of their own lives and an entire community.

Behind the heartwarming stories and articles though, underneath the shine, there is more to be seen. A deeper and more raw story…the one that seems to never be told.  See the truth is, the Alexander Comets are formed by much more than just a group of high school boys.

They are made up of a collection of 13 different paths of life experiences. Some much more painful and hard than anyone could imagine. Some wonderful, some boring. Some heartbreaking, some scary.

No one, unless directly associated, could possibly imagine the work,time…blood, sweat, and tears that a school must put in to build an entire program from the ground up. The stress, the hours, the manpower, the tears. Standing behind those boys are the wall of people that made it possible. An entire community, school administration, teachers, coaches, managers, bus drivers, volunteers…so much invested.

Watching Kevin start fresh with a new team was hard at first. To close the chapter in Fairview after all of those years and march on to unknown territory…it was bittersweet. But as the weeks passed, I could see before my eyes that he had a newfound energy behind coaching…being pushed to new limits and starting with a team who had essentially, as a whole, never played football. Yes, there were a few players who had played before, but never 6 man, and never together and some just…never.

Behind the frustration and learning curve, there is beauty to be found in stripping something down to it foundation…it’s core, and breathing life into it.

Kevin was born to be a football coach. It’s in his blood, in his soul. Watching him through this challenging season has made me more proud of him as a coach than I could ever imagine. To see him carry himself with integrity through losses, and meetings…tough teams, injuries, managing issues that came up, finding solutions to things, and still falling in love with his new 13, the same way if not more deeply than every group that has come before…has changed me in the process. See it's very different to go from a flourishing program, to one that's just beginning. To go from a "successful" team with many numbers and a deep bench, to a very small team still trying to figure out who will fit best at which position. To go from win after win every week and deep into the playoffs for years, to losses and injury and trial by fire. But there can be even more heart and beauty that lies within a fresh start, gratefulness, and a longing to just be there. Watching Kevin carry himself in an identical fashion to all the years he did before, no matter the vast differences on the scoreboard and numbers, has shown me that his love for football and coaching runs much more deep than titles, and wins, and records. 

Today they played their last game of their first season. Battered and bruised, many out for injuries, and a lopsided score, they finished the game with a touchdown and celebrated that as if they had won the superbowl. I’m so proud of them…but I hope they are so, so very proud of themselves.

Who would have thought…a nerdy, book loving, gypsy heart photographer would end up with a football coach and produce a son that lives to be just like his dad. If you would have told me that 10 years ago I would have laughed and said “never!!!” But it has changed me. This journey of being a coach’s wife has enriched me more than I could express, despite being very difficult at times. I thought we had closed the football chapter 2 years ago when Kevin left teaching, but then he returned in Fairview, and then started a new journey in Alexander. And alas, my heart made room for 13 more. And just as all of the boys before them, there they will stay.

A letter to my son on his 3rd birthday

Another year.

My sweet Kroy,

This past year, you have morphed right before my eyes from a toddler into a little boy.
This has been such a joy, and also very difficult for me at the same time.

Some of the toddler stages you went through were a huge challenge for me. They required a lot more patience and energy than I sometimes had. Now, you have become so very independent and although those things make my life easier and more convenient many times, the trade off is a hard tug on the heartstrings. My baby doesn’t need me like he used to.

As we get to know each other more and more over these passing years, I am learning that most things in parenting are like this…good and bad, sweet and difficult, hilarious and frustrating, a new zest for life and extreme exhaustion….all at once.  Sweet and sour. The best of times and the worst of times.

I find this feeling both fascinating and sad, if I’m being honest. Each accomplishment you make, each passing year, each special event in your life I will be overflowing with pride and joy…and a little broken hearted by how big you are and how fast time flies. I know this feeling is just the tip of the iceberg of the years to come.

There are already days I wish I could get back…that I wish I would have gone to sleep earlier the night before, so I could be more patient with your fits and find more humor in your messes and repeating the same phrases over and over and over. Already evenings I wish I would have stayed home to spend that time with you. Realistically, there will be many more days like this over the course of your life that I don’t realize in that moment.

I love being your mom, Kroy. I love your sweet voice and your baby soft skin. I love your tender heart and willingness to share. I love when your laugh shakes you from your core and pure glee radiates from your nose to your kneecaps.

You are also challenging me every step of the way. You are strong willed and stubborn. You are a daddy’s boy, and will choose dad 10 times out of 10 when it comes to going places with, reading to, special trips, sitting with, or any activities. These things can make the days and the weeks long. These things are hard on a mom’s heart.

But you don’t know. You are just truly and completely free to be who you are and express what you feel. The only time in life we are completely comfortable with ourselves and all of our own thoughts and expressions…we don’t remember later in life. Isn’t it crazy? I hope you can keep some of that comfort level with yourself…the one that innocent little free spirited souls have. We lose that somewhere along the way.

It is fun to see you starting to understand things going on around you, but also terrifying. With all of that new excitement and grasp on the world, you will also start to see the ugly and the cruel that life can bring. I can’t save you from all of it, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to.

You love swords (slightly obsessed) sports, rough housing, football, baseball, and golf. You love to climb and jump from very high places. You love to take baths and read books and ride your scooter. You love anything and everything to do with your dad. You can be very serious and take a very long time to warm up to others. You can also be very outgoing, compassionate, and so sweet. You absolutely refuse to be potty trained, despite the fact that you’re the size of a 5 year old, and so are your turds.

As I sit here typing this, you are currently on the floor of the hallway in a full tantrum because an old pair of shoes you’d like to wear are way too small and won’t go on your feet. You will not accept this, and you will not take my help. Within 3 minutes you will be not only fine but probably laughing or so excited about something else. Welcome to a glimpse of life with 3 year old Kroy.

I’d be lying if I said there weren’t days I feel like a terrible mom. Days that I feel like I check out mentally, or don’t follow through, or wait for that 8:30 bedtime and moment of celebration when I lay you down for bed and close the door behind me. But I’m trying. I’m trying to be present, to be supportive, to be strict and consistent, to be patient, loving, and understanding. I’m trying to not sweat the small stuff, to be a good example, to teach you the golden rule. To hold you a little longer and despite how physically difficult it has become now with your size, to carry you every chance you will let me. It is slipping away, my chances at some of these things. I am trying to show you what it’s like to love someone unconditionally. Sometimes I fail…often times…but I am trying.

I’d lasso the moon for you if I could.
xoxo…

Your mama. 

Cheers to 7 years

I read a quote once that stated a successful marriage is made of two people who can learn to forgive each other over and over.

I didn’t have any idea what I was getting myself into when I got married. I was very young and spontaneous, with a wild and free spirit. Everyone around me thought I was crazy (and some thought I was pregnant) when I said yes to marry a guy I knew for 4 months and saw in person about once every 3 weeks.

It was a shock, to say the least, when real life as a family started with a man I essentially didn’t know that well. If I’m being honest, a shock is a nice way of saying it was really really hard. There were times I questioned everything, even if I had made the right choice, and sometimes thinking…what have I done?

I’ve never been one of those people who says or believes that I shouldn’t have regrets, because it’s shaped me or brought me where I am or all the many nice things that some people tag onto bad decisions and bad behavior. I regret many things in my life…not in a negative and dwelling way, but in a way that acknowledges some of those poor choices.

Every passing day, I realize a little more how lucky…truly lucky…I was that the universe set Kevin Clausen in my path. Can you imagine what could have been, had the man I had chosen not been one with a good heart and pure intentions? A scary thought.

As we’ve walked though this life journey together thus far, it has been difficult. We have been in places of financial lows, with literally not enough money in our pockets to eat lunch. We have, many times, felt overwhelming anger, frustration, resentment, and even rage toward each other. We have both questioned if we should remain together at various points, and let our pride overcome us temporarily. I have said things I didn’t mean. I have put myself over the good of my family unit and my husband many times over. I have shut him out, and demanded him back in.

See, it’s hard, and scary, and painful to place your heart in someone else’s hands. And because they’re human, they don’t always hold it carefully…sometimes they drop it, or stumble, or forget they are holding it. We don’t talk about these things. The truth. It’s either the unrealistic fairy tale or airing of dirty laundry. Both of which are equally damaging to the expectation and view of marriage and it’s failing status in our society.

I do have regrets. I regret every time I spoke to my husband with snark and impatience. I regret times I have shut him out or was unkind. I regret not being more supportive to a million things that he held dear, but I didn’t see of value. And I hate that I will continue to do those things, and my human nature will take over at times and rear it’s ugly head that causes us all to be, in some ways, innately selfish.

Because for every one difficult thing, I have seen 100 happy things. I have seen him sacrifice over and over for the sake of our family. I have seen him work tirelessly, and carefully, for the good of others and bettering them. I have seen him hold our lifeless child in his arms and watched his heart shatter into a million pieces, yet still have the strength to pick me up and carry me through my darkest hour. I have seen others betray him, and watched as he held himself with dignity and quiet humility. I have seen him grow, and love, and fill the people around him with a sense of calm, and that everything is going to be okay. I have felt him support me, back me, and encourage me to pursue things that benefit no one else but myself. I have seen him wrap his heart and arms around our Kroy and choose to guide him through his little life with unconditional acceptance, love, and patience. I won’t, but I could go on…for days.

This is my truth about marriage. It’s a hard truth sometimes. It raw…but it’s real. Things can be difficult and beautiful at the same time. Almost everything worth having is. It doesn’t always have to be one or the other.

If I had it to do over, I’d choose you again. I cherish you, and all of our truth. I will carry your heart in my hands more carefully. I will remain your wild horse that pulls you toward the breeze. You are my anchor that keeps my heart calm in the seas. I love you. Cheers to 7 years.

Dirty Thirty

It's the last night of my 20's. Wow, what a ride. As I reflect on the last decade, I can't help but feel overwhelmed with the craziness of life...both extremes of highs to lows and everything in between. In the last 10 years, I've married a boy I loved before I knew, graduated college, started my own business. I've buried a child, and brought one home. I've had -$7.00 in my bank account while owing $70,000, not knowing where my next meal was coming from, and I've dug through the trenches and reached the light at the end of the tunnel of student, business, medical, and bad decision debt to be able to purchase a home and a fresh start. I've been thin, I've been fat. I've loved hard, fought hard, grieved hard. Crying and laughing all the way. I've fallen on my face and learned things the hard way more times than I could count. There are days I feel 19 without a clue what I'm doing, and days I feel 67 and that I've figured a few things out. 

I don't dread 30. I've earned 30, I'll wear it proudly.

Cheers *clink* to the next 30. To the continued journey to finding our best selves. After all, it's all any us can do is live our truth, and strive to be better than the day before. xoxo...

This old house.

Remember that show? This Old House...with Bob Vila? The pre Mike Holmes PBS home improvement show. My dad used to watch that when I was a kid.

Anyway...so, we bought a home! I can't believe it. Kevin and I have been talking about and hoping for this exact point in our lives for approximately 7 years (give or take.)

And, not only did we find a home, we found a big, beautiful, unique, special house that we love, and absolutely cannot wait to make our own.

And yet, as the excitement builds (and the relief sets in after a 10+ week bank process is finally over,) I can't help but start to get emotional about leaving our little 'ol rental behind the trees on the edge of Warrior territory.

Deep within the walls of wood paneling, the one (sometimes) working light bulb in the bathroom, the wild cats in the trees and the creepy dark storage basement...our hearts rested here.

Our hearts rested in a place that we celebrated in, grieved in, laughed in, fought in, loved. A perfect location, with the sounds (and smell) of the cows in the spring, and the buzz of harvest all around us in the fall.

I will miss this house, and will cherish the adventures that have taken place here...our first kiss, right outside under the stars, accidentally flushing my wedding ring down the toilet (don't worry, we got it back! Now THAT'S a story for you.), the most beautiful winter wonderland (AND photography location!), and finally walking through the door with our Kroy to his first home.

We had, without a doubt, the most amazing landlords that ever did exist. Now, this is the part that really makes me cry. In an area and market that they could have easily quadrupled the rent we were paying (probably more than that)...they never did. They fixed anything, and everything...almost immediately upon request. The months that we were struggling...struggling financially (and emotionally,) they never asked us for payment. While what felt an astronomical amount of money was flying out the door toward medical debts and collections from babies and the struggles of getting them into this world, there were times we would fall behind, and payment was behind or late. Not once did we get a phone call or pressure, they just patiently waited until we caught up. In what world? They play such a huge part in our new home and the fact that possibility even existed. They will never know how grateful we are to them, how much they mean to us, and what a gift they have been in our lives. God Bless 'em.


And so, we move along down the road. 11 miles down the road to be exact, and we leave a piece of our souls on the edge of the Klose Farm and in the dirt of Warrior country. Our first home will always be a treasured one. And I'll tell you another thing; the moon has never shined so bright as when you're sitting on the top step out the back door of this old house.

A letter to my son on his 2nd birthday (and cheers to all the toddler moms!)

My Kroy,

Well…it’s Shark Week again, and that can only mean one thing. You’re another year older…it’s your birthday week.

What a year this second of your life has been for all of us. It has brought challenges I never dreamed we would face within such a short time span. Major career changes, heartache, unfortunate circumstances, months of ear infections, tubes, an insane schedule that we are still adjusting to 8 months later, and oh-so-much more of life’s crazy and unexpected unknowns.

Your dad gave up a job that he loved and lived for to make a better life for us. And despite being on that path, we are still in progress adjusting to these major changes. Change is so hard. Someday I will tell you about what he sacrificed for us, what it meant, and how it changed our lives. For now, I will just tell you how proud I am of him and that it makes me incredibly grateful that you will grow up with a perfect example of bravery and courage. With this path to a different future, also came the compromise of his time. Every other week, 24/7, it’s just me and you, kid. This has been a big adjustment for both of us.

So many changes have been brought about since one year ago when I sat down, teary-eyed, to write a letter to my son on his first birthday. I have not written a blog post since that until now, (if that is at all telling of the madness that has ensued within this year.)

You are a funny little man. You are very smart and observant...an independent spirit. You are so unbelievably stubborn (and so physically strong.) You love to be outside, to run, to chase, throw balls, tackle, rough-house…you are all boy. You are slow to warm up to people, but usually come around. You love your dad so much…and love to be with the boys. You have a shy side, and an outgoing side…depending on your surroundings. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for you.

I wish I could say that this year has been easy. I wish I could say that I’m confident we’re doing everything “right” and know what to do in most situations and interactions with you. But I can’t say that.

I wish I could say that I do everything in my power to be the very best mom I can be every day. But I can’t always say that either. Sometimes I cheat. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing. Sometimes I put you in the high chair in front of cartoons with a string cheese and some lunch meat and call it a meal. Sometimes I put on a movie and hope that I can work for 20 straight minutes on my computer with no interruption. Sometimes as you are flailing around in full meltdown mode in public screeching and doing the bucking bronco to get out of my arms, (all 37 pounds of you)…I’m really just not sure what to do, so I do nothing…too much…or not enough. Sometimes I lose my cool, and become short and frustrated. Sometimes I’m so exhausted, and the energy I had toward educational fun, consistent discipline, and keeping on schedule goes out the window. Sometimes I feel an overwhelming amount of guilt for all of those things I’ve listed above and so, so many more…and sometimes I don’t.

But, despite it all, I still think (and hope) that you laugh more than you cry, you run more than you sit, you play more than you’re idle, and you eat more fruit than candy. You are exceptionally well behaved when other people are watching you. (I have no proof of that personally, but I’m going to take their word for it.)

Sometimes, I feel like I love you so much it hurts. I want you to experience every joy in this life and avoid every heartache, despite knowing that’s not possible.

I had a very very strong misconception that making you “learn the hard way” and a little “tough love” didn’t start until you were much, much older. Boy was I wrong.

My wish for you is that you’re a fast learner. That you bump your head a little less and give hugs a little more. That you make friends a little faster and learn that patience, drive, and effort alone will get you so far in life. You will learn much of this the hard way…the independent way…so I hope you learn fast. My wish for you is freedom….freedom from stress, worry, sadness, and that laughter, play, and adventure reigns your toddler life. Isn’t it ironic that the only time in life we are truly free in that sense…we don’t remember any of it?

And this year, as selfish as it may sound, I also have a few wishes for myself. I hope that I can remain focused on the big picture, and not be so caught up in the little things, as I navigate this journey of losing myself and finding myself all over time and again. I hope that I can remember a little more often that I am your constant example of all things good and bad…to keep my tone a little sweeter, my voice a little softer, and my exhausted, frustrated sighs to myself.

Everyone always says…”it goes so fast.” And it does, for the most part. (And, my personal favorite…”you will miss this.”) But there is a reason the toddler years fly by, and you trade in each good and bad for another set of good and bad with each stage. It’s because none of us moms would survive with a permanent toddler in our lives forever.

There is much the human spirit can learn from a toddler. Here are some things I’ve learned from you:

Never hold back. Just go for it…whether a nose dive off the couch (a leap of faith) or a sprint through the mud puddle in your family picture outfit (lose your inhibitions.)

Naps are an absolute necessity.

Laugh at things that are funny…no matter where you are or who you are around. There is no inappropriate place for laughter.

You know no judgment. You will high five anyone, take food from anyone, laugh with anyone, and love anyone. Keep that…always. Everyone is just navigating through this world the best they know how.

There is wonder and excitement in the littlest of things…things our adult eyes and souls have lost touch with.

Thank you for the challenges, the lessons, the laughs, and the tears. I love being your mom, Kroy. God is in your gut; always go with your gut. Let’s see what this next year has in store. We're in this together.

Xoxo...

A letter to my son on his 1st birthday

Kroy Alexander,

You have been with us for one year now. But long before you were born… just a dream and a longing like none other, you have held my heart in its entirety.

I have more thoughts for you than I could ever express in one letter, but I will try to pour out some of my soul onto these pages in hopes that you will someday feel the depth of my love for you.

The days can be long, but the weeks and months fly like the other sweetest of things in life… like the tastiest meal, the sweetest of summers, and an evening with the best of friends.

I want you to know that your mom, with all of her flaws and faults, insecurities and trials, is the one who has figured out the secret to life. Conquered it, no, but believe with all that I am that the secret to happiness is the impossible and never ending quest for balance.

A wish for you is that you learn to love unconditionally, to accept others and yourself as they are, but to always strive for growth in your intellectual, physical, and spiritual life.

A wish for you is that you are strong, convicted, and opinionated, but also compassionate, empathetic, and gentle. Always put people first. Never throw out anyone.

Please know that I will always see you as a little smarter, a little funnier, a little better looking, and all around, a little bit cooler than anyone else.  But know that you are not better than anyone outside of your mother’s eye covered in a sweet shade of rose. Know that no one, no matter what, is beneath you.

I remember holding your older sister’s beautiful, sweet, lifeless body. I remember knowing, in that moment, that I would never feel a greater feeling…at that time, a feeling of pain so unbearably deep that I would forever be changed.

But I was wrong. I have felt another feeling as strong…the moment you were laid into my arms for a very short time before being whisked away from me to ensure that your early arrival had not put you in risk’s reach.

I hope that you are kind. I hope that you have passion, and things that make you feel giddy, exited, and peaceful. I hope that you laugh…a lot, always, and find humor in the every day.

I hope that when you experience heartbreak, embarrassment, bullies, loss, and all of life’s other unfortunate discomforts, that you can let the pain sink just far enough to know that you never want to inflict those feelings onto others, but not far enough to alter the opinion you have of yourself or of the good that exists in this world.  

You are an observant child. Quiet and happy. You love horses, sports balls, and your pirate treasure map blankie. You love Petey and Pippa, Mickey Mouse clubhouse, and all carbs and sweets. You will give kisses and loves, but only to babies and other toddlers your age that you believe to be younger and smaller than you. You love being with the big boys. You love to talk (listen) on the phone, and are an excellent sleeper. You love music and you love to dance. You are an old soul.

You bring joy to all that you come in contact with.

You are a miracle. You are my treasure.

Happy first birthday, my son.  

Mama

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stressed

I found this quote tonight...and I TOTALLY feel this way lately.

"Stress is the trash of the modern day - we all generate it but if you don't dispose of it properly, it will pile up and overtake your life."

I'm having a hard time balancing this "mom with a career" thing. How on earth do people do it all, and still maintain somewhat of a clean home, groceries in the fridge, meals, errands, laundry(showering...although I'm not as worried about that one), AND giving as much as you can to your clients, child, and husband?

Not to mention...bills, work, ANY type of personal endeavors or something for leisure/pleasure.

When I'm successful with one or two of these, I am failing miserably in other areas. Tonight I finally came to grips with that fact that no, in fact, someone did not break into my home and take everything out of all cupboards, cabinets, and closets and throw everything everywhere and leave...that, in fact, my house is THAT bad.

It's mostly just accumulated piles that I KNOW if I just spent 20 minutes organizing and putting things away/finding a place for them, it really would not be as bad as my dramatic description implies. But still..something I dread, and a daunting task.

I am exhausted, behind, and overwhelmed. And yet, I've spent a couple of long, FULL, glorious, and super fun days with my sweet little 7 month old son. My son that will only be little once, that will only be in this stage that he's in RIGHT NOW, and then on to the next.

However, now I am behind. Which means...late nights, tired days, and too many things on the back burner. So where is the balance?

This time with Kroy makes everything else seems so unimportant. But then, reality sets in, that in fact...I do have other obligations, and they are important.

I think...MAYBE...that all people struggle with this. It is the age old battle of balance. The "secret of life"...right? The secret that we're all seeking but never finding.

I need to somehow re-commit to better planning, more organization, and allotting time for things in which those set aside moments...I give 100% of myself to that ONE thing.

I used to look at certain people and think "wow...they are supermom!" But now, I am finding that none of us are super moms, and all of us are...all at the same time. March on, my working mom friends! This crazy life will try to kick our ass all the way to Sunday if we don't show it who's boss once in awhile.

So now, I am going to bed...going to wake up with a grateful heart, a better attitude, embrace my long workday tomorrow doing something I love, not feel guilty about Kroy at the babysitters, schedule a chunk of an hour or so to do nothing but clean, and give myself a big pat on the back for NOT indulging in the Doritos I've been planning to eat for the last half hour.

Celebrate small victories, right? :-)

Goodnight, friends. Life is good.

(Look at my sweet little Bear! I mean, who wouldn't want to nothing else all day but hang out with this guy?!)

Parenting 101

Top 5 things I've learned about parenting thus far:

1. Babies are all little geniuses. They know exactly when to barf on you (when you're finally showered and ready to walk out the door,) they know exactly when to do the lip quiver so you'll give in, and exactly when to think it's party time (3 a.m. when delirium has officially set in.) I'm not sure if I should be impressed by these super smart tiny humans or horrified. I'm generally both.

2. Moms are SO hard on other moms. Why? This is ridiculous. We are the only ones who knows how hard it can be to "do it all" and balance home, parenting, career, and the constant, endless list. We should support each other, and be each other's biggest fans.

3. Some days and moments you cherish, and some you just need to get through. These flip flop back and forth constantly. And it's okay.

4. Parenthood brings the experience of the most extreme kind of exhaustion that exists. Still...never, ever, EVER say "just you wait" to a tired pregnant lady. It's just annoying and redundant. We all would still take having our babes in our arms than being pregnant ANY DAY. (At least I would!) "Just you wait"-ers need to pipe down. All of you.

5. My son is by far the cutest and best baby in the history of babies. (Oh, wait...we all think that...and always will.) :-)
Happy {tired, barfy, behind-on-work, cutest-baby-ever, same-clothes-for-3-days} Tuesday!!! Life is good. <3

I rigged Kroy up in his car seat in the recliner today to feed himself. Mean or clever? I'm going to go with clever. :-)

It's a...BOY!

Our miracle is here.
Kroy Alexander Clausen

August 13th, 2012
5 lbs. 15 oz.
18.5 inches long

Perfect in every way. The tiniest chubby baby you've ever seen.
Our hearts are full.

<3

The pregnancy game

Things I love about being pregnant:

1. Feeling the baby move, and roll, and flip. Nothing like it in the entire world...even when it wakes me during late hours into the night, or at the most inconvenient times. Don't know if I could ever get enough.
2. Kevin's face when he feels the baby move.
3. Shopping for all sorts of things...especially tiny clothes. (My pocketbook would disagree.)
4. ....feeling the baby move? oh, said that already...
Oh! I thought of one more...Maternity clothes (especially pants) and not having to do the fat man tug on your clothes to make sure your pants are pulled up and your shirt is hanging a certain way to camouflage any rolls that may be lurking...never thought I would ever say this...but somehow there is ease and comfort with a giant round belly, and a waistband that goes up to your boobs and stays put.

Things I not-so-much-care-for about being pregnant:

1. All sorts of stomach issues that last for months and months. (Not sure which ones I'm speaking of? Just sing the pepto bismol commercial jingle in your head and add constipation and a few more.) :-)
2. Achy hips, tailbone, back, feet, and a general feeling of "largeness" and "heaviness."
3. Not being able to move around during photo shoots like before. I love to get into some strange positions during shoots for that "perfect" angle, which sometimes involves laying on the ground, or bending, squatting, climbing, moving fast, etc. It's just not happening like it used to...not that I'm not still trying.
4. The "just you wait..." people. You can't say, post, or speak anything about being tired, or actually being anything without someone saying, "oh just you wait until that baby comes! Then you'll REALLY be: "insert emotion, feeling, or opinion here..."  Yes, thank you.
5. 8,302,340 pieces of unwanted and not-asked-for advice. (too mean?)
6. Having to get up and pee 4,503,230 times/night.

I definitely could go on with the second list, but...I don't want to! I am more than happy to endure any amount of ANY of these things...as long as we get a baby out of the deal. :-)

I am enjoying this journey, but would very much be lying if I didn't say I was ready for this chapter to close and the next to open. I have now been pregnant for 12 months total with both pregnancies combined. One whole year...with a little less than 3 months to go. It's definitely time...and we are so ready!

The countdown is on...crazy summer schedule continues to pass quickly and CAN'T BELIEVE there are only 5 more weekends until football starts for Kevin. What?! How did that happen? First summer of my life I am absolutely thrilled that it's flying by!

Halfway to you

4:02 a.m. Wide awake. Painful heartburn radiating from my neck to my kneecaps. And a little person inside of me doing a full acrobatic routine.

And I am loving it.

20 weeks 5 days. Today marks the day of the last pregnancy when we found out the worst news of our lives...that we had lost our baby...our sweet, beautiful daughter.

It's hard to believe that it's been 7 months since then...and 5 since I've written. In that time, we've come so far on our very emotional journey of attempted parenthood. In that time we've begun a new life, almost lost it, waited out the unknown for 9 agonizing weeks, and finally...hit and passed the "halfway" point.

This baby has continued to give me a precious gift every single day from week 17 on. The gift of movement...constantly. With each flutter, each kick, each punch washing away the doubt and fear and paranoia that crawls into the cracks of my soul and hides there. And of course, this movement tends to be at the most inconvenient times...like now, in the middle of the night, with a full busy day ahead of me tomorrow. I don't care, I'll take it. I cherish it. I wait for it.

I'm finally allowing myself to get excited, allowing myself thoughts of bringing this baby home...of holding this baby, feeding this baby, walking the floors through the night running on no sleep with this screaming baby. I want this child in my arms so bad sometimes that it aches. Halfway! We are halfway to you.

I can't wait to meet you. I can't wait to see your face, to touch your skin. To take more photographs of you than of anything I've ever photographed in my life. To rejoice when I bear witness to you experiencing life's greatest joys and treasures, and to silently crumble in heartbreak and pain when you experience life's hardships...teaching you, molding you, preparing you.

So I will impatiently keep waiting, and counting down the days, the weeks, the months until you're in my arms. Until then, I will be grateful that I am halfway to you.

<3

A Love Letter

                     

My sweet Percy girl,

It’s been 2 ½ weeks, and life has not been the same without you.  From the moment I laid eyes on you, it was love at first sight. Your sparkling personality still echos through every square inch of this home, despite your lack of physical presence.

                                                                                                                                                         I remember so vividly moments spent with you, and dread the days when those memories will fade. And although I’m sure there are beautiful, eloquent, touching ways to put this, the meaning remains the same…I miss you.

I miss those big beautiful chocolate chips eyes that were always full of something…wonder, excitement, understanding, comfort, companionship, happiness, and every other emotion that your sweet little being felt.

I miss you ALWAYS at my feet…always, following me throughout every room of the house and making yourself comfy as you watched me fulfill the task at hand.

I miss your nose underneath the bathroom door for every trip to the bathroom, patiently waiting.

I miss watching wrestle mania in my living room for hours every night with you and Petey….followed by choosing the perfect spot to settle in and snooze.

Oh I miss that tail. That sweet little curled tail that wagged and wagged from the time you woke up in the morning until the time you went to sleep, and sometimes even in your puppy dreams.

I miss your well behaved and patient demeanor, and your inquisitive and curious nature.

The day that I lost you, you curled up to me and snuggled that morning unlike you ever had before. No matter how ridiculous or irrational this may seem to others, I will always cherish that as our special goodbye.

You were my first dog. You were the one who changed my entire mindset and opinion of pets and animals. You brought something to my life that I have never experienced before. Until the end of time, every dog I encounter will be compared to you, and never hold up.

You were my favorite subject of all time to photograph. And although my heart still aches missing you, I am grateful for the short time we shared, and the memories made and lessons learned from my first sweet puppy.

Every time I open the door, I still imagine you trotting happily toward me from your last exploration adventure.

Thank you for adding to the richness of my life. And although you are not with us any longer, you are and always will be a very significant part of my story.

And you really were the best little dog ever.

With love, always.



The Heart of a Warrior

For the last 4 years, I have watched as my husband has lived out his passion of being a football coach.
I have watched, as he has...

-Fallen in love with a new group of 20-25 boys and the dynamic they share each season that begins. Loving them, teaching them, holding them accountable, and guiding them as he would if they were each his own.

-Lost sleep over players, plays, big games, parent issues, coaches issues, plans, strategies, and countless other things.

-Made some very difficult and brave decisions.

-Stood up for those decisions, when many turned their back on him.

-Struggled, enjoyed, and triumphed in the building of a program that he believes in from the bottom of his heart.

And although this season did not end up how everyone had hoped and dreamed...I find it hard to see my husband as anything but a true champion. As the years have passed, I have watched some pretty tough losses. I have seen a cruel world turn it's back on him, only for him to keep fighting onward in the pursuit of his truth and beliefs.

Of course this season, for us, was much different than most, as we celebrated the happiest and most exciting time in our lives, followed by a personal tragedy unlike anything either of us had faced before. And through it all, when I looked at my husband, I saw a Warrior.

I saw a Warrior as he spent the summer anxiously awaiting and planning out the season ahead...and...the new upcoming role of parenthood.

I saw a Warrior as his team remained successful and he refused to give himself the credit, claiming that it was only the boys and what they had done for themselves that had gotten them to the point they were at.

I saw a Warrior as I watched him hold our little girl in his arms with strength and courage as his heart shattered into a million pieces.

I saw a Warrior as he carried on his many daily duties, responsibilities to his team and his job, and took on the responsibility of carrying me through my most difficult endeavor. An act that I will always deem impossible to repay.

I saw a Warrior as he held my hand, or held me close and stayed awake...sometimes for hours, as I cried myself to sleep every single night for weeks, with eyes full of his own pain, stress, and exhaustion.

So, no, I cannot say that I look at this football season with disappointment and sorrow for their 2nd place finish. I see a group of boys who are hard workers. A team of leaders who are learning life lessons, gaining a passion for the sport, and loving every minute of it. I see the accumulation of years of dedication, and doing a lot of things that at the time, are not that "fun" to step toward the greater good of the goal. History was made, and I see a group that is hungry for more. For second chances. For next year.

But above all, for me, standing at the front of the pack...humbly beaming with pride for his team..his "other family"...I see a man with the heart of a Warrior.

I love him now...today... more than I ever thought possible to love anyone or anything. Words could never express how grateful I am to have been given this gift of his love in my life. When I married Kevin Clausen I had no idea of what I was getting myself into in many, MANY regards. Yet somehow, I ended up the luckiest.

I ended up with a Warrior.