Hold my hand, sweet girl. I will love you through it all.

My journey as a parent is still very young. I still have so much to learn. Two and a half years ago this little lady came into the world, made me a mother, and has been humbling me and teaching me ever since.

Adeline (119)

Before actually meeting our sweet girl, I had a plan. See, I used to have a plan for everything. Read I find some of my biggest truths in the baby food aisle at Target  to find out about more of my plans that did not work out as I had thought.

I had a plan and a vision for how our little baby would be. We did not know the gender, as I hoped this would help us (me) to not plan out everything. I did plan everything that I could though.

Our baby would clearly be an amazing sleeper because I had read this book that other moms I know and respect have read and have seen fantastic results! Obviously, if I follow the instructions in the book my child would do just as the book said and would be sleeping through the night in no time. Our baby would also be such an amazing eater because when the time comes I am going to home-make all the baby’s food to only expose the baby to wholesome foods with spices and flavors.  And as baby would grow into a toddler, our baby would listen to everything we say because we would be strong and consistent. We would say what we mean and that child would do what we asked or else there would be a strong and consistent consequence. I mean really, there is a formula for raising children, obviously.

Okay, I really was not this naive. However, there is quite a bit of truth to the above statements.

Then this strong, sweet, beautiful, and dramatic individual entered the world. tree 13I use the word individual on purpose here, because that is exactly what she is.  She was not created in my image, but rather in God’s. She will not fit all the molds that I had previously thought my child would. She is not the child in the books I had read. She is her own person. She was created this way and our influence is not going to change who she is at her core. And that is such a blessing. In many ways she will exceed what I had imagined.

Our little lady still hardly sleeps through the night, 2 and a half years later….. 30 months.  Oh sweet child.  She did not work like the sleep book said she would. We “scheduled” her.  We gave her baths before bed. We even spent more money on the nighttime bath soap so that she would sleep. We swaddled her. We stuck to bedtime routine. She just did not sleep. We spent lots of nights without sleep. She just wanted to be with us. Now, as a toddler, she has these horrible nights where she wakes up so upset that I have to hold her in my arms and talk about butterflies and ponies, and everything wonderful in the world to calm her down. The only way we can get her to go back to sleep once we’ve calmed her is snuggled in tight next to us.

So, guess what sweet girl, we do. We will love you through this.

Our little lady is a finicky eater. I am saying finicky as a polite way of saying she is a pain in the rear when it comes to eating. Once she was old enough to eat with her own plate at the table the fights began. She would throw the food and scream, so much screaming, about food that she loved the day before. We would consistently offer her the things that we were having and she would throw giant fits. My husband and I could never enjoy eat our meals because we were dealing with her mealtime melt-downs. Everything we thought would work, didn’t. We were having a battle at every meal. Then we changed our approach and followed what we felt in our hearts. We offered her what we were having. If she didn’t want it, she didn’t have it. But, she didn’t have anything else. No arguing, no begging. Just these are the options. We celebrate when she does eat… which makes her eat more. We are learning. She is learning. She is eating. We clap anytime any of us eats, so there is a lot of clapping. Mealtime is becoming pleasant again. We had to back down from our approach, follow her lead, and love her through it all.

Now, like I said before, my time as a mother is still very young. However, I see we are coming over the hill of the baby trials and moving into the mountain of the parenting trials of raising a person with character. Whoa. Talk about anxiety. She is even getting to the age where she will soon remember how we talk to her and treat her. This is where my husband comes into play as an incredible influence in the way I want to parent.

You see, a few months ago I made a terrible, horrible, mistake. I compared and talked down about my child, in front of my child, for her being her. Oh my word. That is not the mother I want to be. We were with friends who have a daughter who is two weeks younger than our girly. Their child was doing a wonderful job of eating her meal and was looking at our child confused as to why she was throwing a full out temper tantrum over the meal, and then our daughter proceeded to make her negative opinion on whatever followed very clear to everyone.

I was so embarrassed and I even said something like, “She is eating her meal. Why can’t you be like her. She is so easy going and you make everything so difficult.” We all joked it off because our two year old cannot understand what I had said and we talked about how she is definitely dramatic. We then packed our little family up and started for our hour and a half drive home.

My husband is a man of few serious words, so when he is serious, it is best to listen. He has heard me talk many times about the mother I want to be. We began our drive and he began to speak:

“You cannot compare her to other people. She is her own person. You would not want to be compared for being you.” – Truth. Painful truth. I had done exactly that. She is her own person and has her own strengths and her own areas of growth and it is our role to help her bring out those strengths and to help her in her areas of growth. It is so wrong of me to expect her to be someone she isn’t.

“You need to stop being embarrassed when she acts this way. It is not a reflection of you.”-Truth. More painfully, he saw my embarrassment. She is her own person and she was really struggling in that moment. Instead of helping her through that moment, I was embarrassed about what someone else might think of her behavior. Truthfully, I should be embarrassed for how I acted in that moment.

“She isn’t going to listen when we yell at her. I know I don’t like being yelled at and I don’t listen when I am.”– Truth. This is very true for most humans. No one likes being yelled at. Some respond by doing whatever behavior is required to prevent the yelling or some just ignore the yelling. Our daughter and my husband are the later. Our little girl responds infinitely better when we calm down, whisper to her what we would like her to do, and ask in a respectful manner. Which, really, isn’t that how everyone would like to be treated?

My husbands words really resonated with me and has had a direct impact in how I handle situations with our little girl since. Our world is more peacefully since making a change in how I relate and connect to her.

Your child is not giving you a hard time. Your child is having a hard time.

I think of this quote often now, when our little lady is having a melt-down. I scoop her up, take her aside, and try to calmly help her use her words to let me know what is going on. When we are in situations where she needs a break or isn’t being kind, I will often join her in “time-out/time-in” to have a talk about what happened and how we can fix it. I am not perfect with this, but I am trying. I will love her through it.

Parenting is not how I thought it would be. In many ways it is even more of a blessing. These little people are incredible individuals. However, they do not fit the mold that we may have had for them. There is not a “how-to manual” for raising children that works for all children, as they are each their own person.

It is our job as parents to help them be the very best versions of themselves. It is our job to see their strengths and help them develop them. It is our job to see the areas where they need support, and to be that support. It is our job to be flexible to their changing needs.

It is our job to hold their hand and love them through it all.

Thank you sweet girl for teaching me so much already. I am excited to have you hold my hand, love me through it, and teach me more tomorrow.

Fear…. Irrationally, rational fear

Well hello there again, fear. I feel you sneaking up to remind me that you are still here, still with me, still trying to control me.

But I am fighting back. Instead of letting my mind spin out of control over the what ifs, I am pausing to think about the root of the fear and to put it in it’s place.

See, my mind keeps coming back to something I read, which I am just now remembering what it was, about someone who knew someone who lost their 2 year old in their sleep and something tragic happened to their 7 year old. This might not even had been the premise of the article, and as I am thinking of it now, I am almost certain I am getting it wrong. But what did stick and what I am reminded of randomly as my babies are sleeping in their rooms, is that someone’s 2 year old died in their sleep. I do not know how or why, but it happened. Which therefore means it could happen to my two year old or my ten month old or my husband or myself.

I’ve checked their rooms four times now. This is two more than my normal night checks. They are still breathing, peacefully, and beautifully.

Whoa, fear. Settle down.

See what I initially thought was that it could happen to me. Meaning, my child could die in their sleep and that this tragedy would hit me. The fear goes to the fear of experiencing something so tragic that I truly do not even want to give it words. The fear is of something so gigantic and represents more than just a tragic…but also life after it and so many unknowns that I pray every day, literally, that it is something my children or I never have to face. Every night when I lay them in their crib or bed, I thank God for them and for the day we have had together. I pray they grow strong and happy. And I pray that they will grow to know their grand-babies.

See, this is all we can do about fear, is give it up to our faith, because bad things do happen. Tragedy does happen. It might not happen immediately to your family, but it surrounds us. We also do not and will not understand why it happens. We cannot imagine the person we would become if it were to happen to us.

When I hit these moments of fear I have to remember that my children and my spouse are with me for a short time in existence on Earth and that they have been a gift, not a right. It is not my will to control our path together and it is my choice to enjoy the moments that are given.

I also have to remember that this irrationally strong fear of rational events, only has power when I allow myself to obsess over it. Instead I need to be aware of rational dangers, keep them in check, and give the rest up to faith so that my current moments are not stolen from me.

See that, fear, I just talked myself out of obsessing over you for tonight.

Plus, I just heard my daughter move around in her bed from across the hall, so I am feeling reassured.

You will never be this loved again.

2015/01/img_1765.jpgLittle man wrapped around my finger… 3 hours after his bedtime because he cannot sleep.

It has been an especially trying week. Our children are already less than amazing good okay sleepers. Then add some common sickness to it and we have entered a world of practically non-existent sleep. We cannot remember when we got a 2 hour stretch of sleep. Our daughter was sick last week and she so lovingly shared it with her brother. My husband and I each stayed home with a sick little man one day this week. When they are sick, they cannot sleep unless they are asleep on our chest. So, for the past two weeks we have been sleeping with a little on our chest or right beside us. They start in their bed/crib but out of survival end up with us.  This is just a minor setback and I fully understand that other families have it much worse. This is being a parent. It is exhausting.

It is also the most loving time in your life. Ever.

Even without being sick, littles love being with their mamas and daddies.

All the time.

I cannot remember the last time I went to the bathroom without a beautiful and curious 2 year old standing next to me, narrating my ever action. (That is very humbling by the way.)

I shower with her choosing to sit on a stool in the bathroom waiting for me. She has the choice to play with her brother and daddy, but instead would like to wait for me to finish my shower. My reflection time in the shower is interrupted as I keep checking on her to make sure she is okay. As soon as I am done, she stands up and says “Mama done?!”

While eating dinner, little miss tries her hardest to sit as close to or on either my husband or I. We repeatedly remind her that she can sit next to us, but not on us at the table. But, we have to repeatedly remind her of this through the entire meal.

My store runs are now accompanied by a sweet little girl who would like to go shopping with mama. I repeatedly explain that we cannot open every banana, strawberry, and yogurt through the store. I narrate our shopping experience, redirecting her down the right aisles, and she echos what I say.  My store runs are significantly longer but must be timed for the potty runs as well, as little miss no longer wears diapers. Just last week she insisted on holding her mini-donut while she used the grocery store bathroom.  Maybe this is where we got the cold from? <wink, wink>

So my alone time is significantly less. Even as I write this, my littles and my husband are having some daddy time  in the playroom so that I can have an hour of “me time” before I take little miss to the grocery store with me. But, did you read that correctly, my alone time is significantly less. As exhausting and overwhelming as that can be, it is such an incredible blessing. My lonely 300 lb self of years past would never have believed that one day I would have such a loving and wonderful family that wanted to be with me all the time. I am not alone. I am loved beyond words. This does not just apply to me and my specific and bumpy journey to having a family. This applies to all of us who were once alone and blessed to find someone to share our lives with. Then blessed once more with the miracle of little ones. Blessed.

It is heartbreaking to leave my children every day but when I see my children at the end of an exhausting day at work, my sweet girl is my biggest cheerleader, saying “Mom!!! You’re back!!!!” and gives me the biggest, most genuine hug EVER. My son lights up when he sees me. My daughter will not leave my arms for the first 15 minutes when we get home. This is a little trying as neither will my son.

My daughter insists on cuddling in our spot while snuggled up under our blanket watching “my show” (her show). Little man crawls over and wants up too. So we snuggle. The three of us snuggle in tight.

The first words I hear in the morning, if she hasn’t already found her way into our bed, are “Mom!! Mama!!! I am done!! Mom!!” The last words I hear at night when I put her to bed are “No mom. Stop! Mom!!!!!! Mama! Stay. Mom!!!!” When my husband puts her to bed, most times she asks for me to go up and give her one last kiss. She asks the same of my husband when I put her to bed. She cannot get enough of us.

My point is, as exhausting and overwhelming it is, we will never be this loved again. Our children, Lord willing, will grow up. They will hit a point where they won’t even acknowledge that we have come home. They will hit a point where the thought of laying in your bed is grotesque to them. They will hit a point where the thought of watching you go to the bathroom is nauseating. They will hit a point where sitting next to you at dinner seems like a chore, as sitting with friends would be much better. They will hit a point where they won’t want to talk to you as openly.  We, as parents, will keep trying to get them to show us the ways they used to love us,  (expect for the bathroom thing. I am really okay with that moment being over) but they will grow up and find their own ways to show love. They will never again love us as whole-heartedly, as unconditionally, as genuinely as they do this very moment.

I recently read this quote,

“Children are not a distraction from more important work. They are the most important work.” – C.S. Lewis

As overwhelming as it may be to always have a child on your hip or by your side, it is a blessing. What you are doing with those littles far outweighs what other things you could be doing. That child loves you with their every being. Soak it all in now.

You will never be this loved again.

Did I love enough today?

Tragedy happens. Horribleness happens.

You don’t have to travel far or spend much time online to be hit with that awful, gut-wrenching reality.

We cannot control tragedy. We can do our best to prevent it, but we cannot control it. Bad things happen to good people. No one is immune to it.

Okay. I have accepted that. Well, I have momentarily come to terms with that and have to rely on my faith when I let my mind go to those dark “what if” moments.

What keeps me up and my mind racing is my most difficult, nightly reflection:

Did I love enough today?

See, I cannot control what tragedies my family may face. What I can control is what I do with my time in this very moment. That is daunting to me. The heavy responsibility of knowing that I am deciding how to use each moment. Every single moment could be is a precious one and I do not want to waste them.

However, I also want some down time where I literally do nothing but waste time. That down time to re-energize and gather my thoughts. Time to let my brain recharge and my mind settle.

Anxiety increases.

What have I done? Have I wasted a hug or a smile or a moment that I will forever regret. Is my selfish need for some “me” time robbing me of valuable time with my family? How can I do better tomorrow?

Anxiety increases.

I am also a 1st grade teacher. Parents send their own little people to me every day to help guide them and teach them. Did I love them enough today? Or did I allow myself to get caught up in the daily routine or the sea of standards, to forget to look at each one of them, individually, and make a connection today? Do they know that I care about them and want the very best for them?

Anxiety increases.

Am I spending too much time worrying about my littles at work that I am taking precious time from my littles at home? How do I, as a working mom, balance the drive between my first passion, teaching, and my current incredible blessing, my family?

Anxiety increases.

What if today is my last day with my husband and sweet children. Today they are all healthy and thriving. What if tomorrow that all changes? Did I do enough with my moments today to truly embrace the incredible blessing that is my family?


Then, I step away from all distractions and all reminders of the terrifying, out-of-control world we live in. I snuggle up with my babies or join them in whatever activity they are engaged in… And I stare. I awkwardly stare at my children. I take it all in, like a glass of ice water on the hottest of summer days, and just focus on that one need. The need to be in the moment with my family.

Anxiety starts to decrease.

I ask my daughter what she wants do and often it is snuggle, read, movie, or horsey…. So we snuggle, read, watch a movie, or play horsey. We grab my son and play ball. We lay on the floor and “hide” from my husband. We build a tent using kitchen chairs and what seems to be an endless supply of blankets.

Anxiety decreases more.

We have movie nights, where Peanut eats more popcorn than my husband, legs crossed, fully engaged in the storyline. Bubba Boo jumps on me and bites my face. (He is only 9 months old.) I look at my husband, squeezed up with my daughter, matching popcorn bowls, and down at my little man, and think,

“This. This is the simple moments I long for.”

My anxiety is momentarily gone.

Tragedy happens. Horribleness happens. The weight of knowing how precious each of our moments are is too heavy.

So heavy.

Mind-bogglingly heavy.

I cannot allow my thoughts to go there.

How can you measure how much you loved today? Will it ever be enough to a mama? Probably not. But, when I am fully engaged in the moment, I know they are loved by the way the love me back. I know that my children have seen and felt love by the way they love each other. It is important to be aware of how precious our moments are and to do our best to love as much as we can in those moments. However, I think, as someone who strives to be “perfect,” it will never be enough.

So, maybe my nightly question should be,

Did I love enough today?

Adeline Horse Will train
Please understand when I do not respond to calls or texts.
I am doing the most important job right now.
I am loving Elsa, Godzilla and their daddy.

I find some of my biggest truths in the baby food aisle at Target.


It happened again. I spent way too much time in the Target baby food aisle trying to decide what to feed my little man and fighting the judgement I felt from myself.

The Target baby food aisle and I have a long history. We began our relationship when my two and a half year old baby girl was just 6 weeks old. You see, I had plans. I was going to nurse her until she was at least a year. I did not understand why people would make the choice to not breastfeed. I mean, it is best for babies, great for moms, convenient, cost-effective, and natural. If you couldn’t nurse, it was simply because you did not have enough resources to get you through it.

And then I had our sweet girl and all my plans went out the door, along with my ego, my perceptions on being a mom, and my preconceived notions on what makes a good parent.

Let me apologize now to all the parents that I wrongly judged before I became one myself. I am so sorry. I had no right to think the things I thought or to have said the things I said. Life handed me a big plate of crow and it has changed me.

Despite my best efforts and I do mean best, tried everything and anything efforts, I do not produce enough nutrients to help my babies grow through nursing. My little lady was starving by the time she hit 6 weeks. Growing mere fractions of ounces when she should have been gaining pounds by then.

Break my heart. Knock me down. Feel like a failure. Cry for months.


I tried even harder with my second, pulling out every stop and seeking out every resource. But it is my reality.

Two and a half years ago I had to walk down that baby food aisle and buy our daughter formula. You know, the devil’s juice as some mom boards might have you think. The formula can even says “Breast milk is best for babies.” Really?!?! Really formula can?!?! Even you are knocking me down and letting me know I am not doing what is best?! Well guess what formula can, I cannot give them my breast milk. They do not grow. They will starve to death if I do not give them what is not best. You, formula can, have become my best option.

Ehh, so I shameful buy the formula can, feeling judged because I had judged so many before me. There was that crow again that I have to eat each time I go down that aisle and to the check out or in public when I shake my formula into water for my child to eat.

I have made my peace with my inability to nurse, kind of, and have moved on, kind of.

Now, I am grappling with feeding my little man solids. We are in the stage where I am a really busy full-time working mom, who has 2 kids 2 and under, and still want what is best for my babes and have to balance between being the ideal mom who home-makes all the baby food or who just breaks down and buys some. I made all of our daughter’s. I took pride in being able to make her food, as I wasn’t able to nurse her. This I could do. Well, turns out she is a crummy eater. Her homemade food, with the variety of vegetables, fruits, spices, etc. had proved to have done nothing in the sense of making her a great eater. I planned to home-make all of our little man’s food too. But, this became a stressful thing, as it was another thing I needed to do in my limited time at home. I decided that I would remove this from my plate as there are other alternatives available, such as buying store bought baby food. See my post on re-priortitizing-and-re-structuring.

On that last trip to the Target baby food aisle, I was there to buy baby food. The adorable, colorful, organic pouches sit on one side, while on the other side are the cost-effective, more traditional jars, which are now plastic containers. Total conundrum. Do I buy the ones that are adorable and organic and modern in their sleek pouch style? Or, do I buy the ones that look like they’ve been around since before I was born, they do only have natural ingredients, but are not in fun pouches (that I squeeze out into another container anyways), and cost literally less than half…..

There it came. The judgement again. I knew which was the better choice for our family. The cheaper ones. But, my son is my baby and all babies deserve the best… Isn’t the best the adorable, modern ones?! Internal struggle. I could buy the cheap ones to use at home but also buy the pouches to use when we are in public, so people won’t think I am less of a mom for settling with the basic baby food. A woman walks into the aisle and moves towards to organic, modern, adorable things and I put my head down in shame and then I think, really?! Really. How lame am I? The reason you feel as though this woman or anyone in public is judging you is because you once judged others like you. You have thought these thoughts of others and now you think everyone thinks this way. This woman probably doesn’t even notice you are here, or if so, you are probably just blocking her way, as you’ve been standing in this aisle having this struggle for the past 10 minutes. This is ridiculous. Get over yourself and just get your baby some dang food.

So, I fill my cart with 20 of those cheaper, non-organic, non-modern, non-adorable, baby food containers, and scolded myself for being that person that I cannot stand. The one who is so worried with what other people think that they cannot even make a simple decision.

Those trips down that Target baby food aisle are not a pretty walk for me. They reveal some of my biggest truths.

Truth- I failed at breastfeeding. In all the traditional ways, I failed at it. I get that we can sugar-coat it, but the reality is I am a part of the statistic of women who cannot nurse. I know that I am not a failure as a mom and that I tried my best, etc. etc. but I have to buy formula. We have a natural disaster and run out of formula, I am screwed. <insert irrational anxiety> I cannot breastfeed my children. They will not grow. There it is. Truth stated.

Truth- I really have not found peace with not being able to nurse and it is something I am going to grapple with for a while. However, I do know that this is a small setback in life’s plans and that it is something that we can easily overcome, by buying formula. I am grateful for our newborn “crisis” being relatively, practically nothing compared to what some families go through. I know it could have been something so much bigger, scarier, harder.

Truth- Things rarely work out as planned. However, they do work out. I have to find peace with this and rely on my faith to know that there is purpose and that it will be okay, just not necessarily in the way I had envisioned.

Truth- All parents want what is best for their children. However, what is best is not the same for everyone. I found what was best for my children. It doesn’t necessarily always fit what society or packaging or even well-intention people think it is.

Truth- I am judgmental. This is the hardest truth of all that I am hit with every time I walk down that baby food aisle.  This is not a trait that I like or that I am proud of. It is a trait I am working very hard at changing. My experience with nursing has taught me so much about this and I have become much less judgmental because of it. If going through this experience made me realize how judgmental I was and helped me to see other perspectives more, then I am grateful for this experience. It has and will continue to help me grow.

So there it is. My battle in the baby food aisle. It seems so small but it really does stop me in my tracks. I think the biggest take away from it is, that no matter how you feed your baby, and there are plenty of options out there, you are feeding your baby. You are providing your little one with nutrients and love and helping them grow. It isn’t your breast, your bottle, your homemade food, your adorable pouches, your basic store-bought baby food, etc. that define you as a mother.

Your role as a mother is defined by how you love them, support them, give them what they need, and find what is best for them and for your family, within your own abilities.

Slide over perfection, I am moving on to a world of do-overs.

christmas cookies Life is full of do-over opportunities.

If you are like me, you strive for everything to be perfect the first time. Anything short of this is a failure. I get so focused on making things perfect the first time, that I lose sight of the opportunity for growth in mistakes and the gift of patience in second chances.

In my rational mind, I know that this focus on perfection, especially the first time doing anything, is a ridiculous view on life and definitely not one that I want to raise my children with.  However, I have to constantly remind myself of this and work towards being okay with imperfections and not to obsess over them.

The holiday season gives us many opportunities to come face to face with imperfections. It is such a beautiful and festive time of year, but can also be a very stressful season. When I think of Christmas, I think of all the wonderful memories that I had spending Christmas with my family and all the memories I want to create with my own children and husband. By default, I view all these memories as amazing moments, that I have to execute perfectly, because we will only have 18 chances to give our children the most amazing Christmas memories while they live at home.

I write this with a bit of sarcasm, because I know how ridiculous it sounds.
Tell that to my anxiety when I am in the moment.

This was the first Christmas that our daughter would start to understand and get excited for everything that the Christmas season brings. I made it a point to make the whole month of December special for both her and our little man. The day after Thanksgiving, they each got a box with two pairs of  Christmas pajamas to wear for the month and a Christmas activity to go with it. Then starting on December 1st, they would find 1 wrapped book under the tree, which were mostly of a Christmas theme. We went to look at lights and made cookies. We chopped down our own tree and decorated it with over 12 strands of lights. We put perfect colonial style wreaths on the windows and used spotlights to best illuminate it.

And welp, it went great! It was memorable! But, it was not  perfect.

Those pajamas got a lot of use, but also took some convincing to get our 2 1/2 year old to wear, as they did not have puppies on them.

The books were great, but took the first 5 nights of teaching her how to be grateful and not chuck gifts across the room when you don’t like them.

The tree was beautiful, except for when it came crashing down at 4:30 in the morning, breaking many of our ornaments. It then was given the addition of 2 black fishing line anchors to the wall.

Looking at lights is one of my favorite things to do. I think our little miss likes it too, until she gets car sick and throws up on herself.

The house looks great with the classic wreaths and the spotlights work great at lighting them up, along with our bedroom, which is lit up better than Margot and Todd’s room on Christmas Vacation.

And those cookies….. We had so much fun making them with our neighbors. We were silly decorating them and each had a funny story. They weren’t even perfectly decorated but the story outweighed their imperfections. Until, I put them in a ziploc bag and they all stuck to each other and broke.

bad cookies

I couldn’t possibly let my neighbors take these broken mess of cookies to their families for Christmas, even if they were decorated in a completely inappropriate manner. It ate at me for days that I had ridiculously put cookies in a bag instead of a container, where they would be safe. I did not use the correct tools.

But, surprisingly, I didn’t flip out in my classic flip out fashion. Instead, I remembered the do-over. I could make them over and fix it. So, that is just what I did.

I even took peace in the idea of doing them over and explored with my camera while at it.

Those adorable cookies you see at the top of this post are the do-over cookies. Our neighbors came over again and all the kids (five kids under the age of 6) decorated our do-overs. They weren’t perfect but they weren’t broke either. Plus, we made even more of those special Christmas memories while at it.

So, our Christmas wasn’t perfect. There isn’t such thing. It was a memorable and precious one. These memories, as flawed as they are, are stories we will treasure.

I have to remind myself of this in those moments that I strive for perfection.

And to start taking peace in the world of do-overs.