Lucky Me, Lucky Boys

As I was chatting with my mom this morning, she said something that really made me stop and appreciate my partner in this crazy game of life. She said, "You know what I loved most about bringing the boys home on Sunday?"

I replied, "You finally got to sleep?!?!"

"No, I loved getting to see Jared's face when he saw his boys walk through the door. His face lit up!"

She is so right!  Everyday when he comes home from work, Jared's face lights up when the boys run to him and jump in his arms. This is a scene I've been taking for granted. Not anymore!  These are the small moments that should be treasured, perpetually reminding us of our blessings.

My boys have a Daddy who saves energy to play with them when he gets home. They have a Daddy who loves to read with them at night, say their prayers, and tuck them into their cozy beds. I have a hubby who helps me around the house, cooks dinner if he's home in time, and lets me get some quiet time when needed. Beyond his help, he's my greatest cheerleader (that's quite a visual, right?!).  He's the one who doesn't laugh when I verbalize my dreams and goals, but instead he brainstorms with me a plan to make it happen.

At our wedding, our pastor recounted a story of Jared as a young boy. Bob had just had a heart attack, so Jared made a card for him that read, "I hope your heart feels better!"  He delivered it to his office at the church. This is just one example of the big heart inside his 6'5" frame. He always puts others before himself. He is one special guy, one that I'm so honored to call my husband and the father of our boys.

As my sappy post comes to a close, I challenge you not to let life's craziness blind you from seeing the small moments in life. Be vigilant as you look for the multitude of blessings that surround you.

In the past year...

Today leaves me a little weepy and a lot reminiscent.  One year ago today was a day of many lasts.  It was the last day that I stood (ok, maybe sat--I wasn't supposed to be at work) in front of my students sharing my knowledge.   It was the last day that I ate lunch with my team in the cafeteria as part of our tight-knit group. It was the last day that I cried with Shelby in Jane's office. It was the last day that I picked Hamilton up from daycare.  It was the last day that I locked up our house and drove out of the driveway as a family of three.  It was the last day that we went to see "Juannie" with only one high chair.  It was the last day that my heart only physically knew one child.

In some ways it feels as if this only happened yesterday while in other ways it feels as if this happened ten years ago.  So much has changed since December 9, 2013.  It's funny looking back at the last year.  I wouldn't change a thing; we learned many lessons through the lowest of lows and the highest of highs.

One lesson I learned while I dug in my stubborn heels, adamantly protesting the change that God had planned for me and our family.  I never imagined myself owning my own skincare franchise; however, He saw it differently.  Every event in my life was preparing me for this next step.  My basketball career taught me the discipline I needed to stay true to my goal.  My knee injuries taught me to doggedly fight for the outcome I desired.  My mom taught me to be strong and independent, never relying on others for my success. My dad taught me to be fiscally responsible and to chase my dreams.  My Converse College public speaking professor taught me strategies to overcome my anxiety of speaking in front of a crowd. My teaching career taught me to deliver information by captivating my audience  and to use technology to efficiently handle tasks.  My husband taught me that it is okay to take a risk; he will always have my back.

No matter how life might be changing before your eyes, rest in the affirmation that although you may not be able to see what's around the bend in the road, you will be prepared.  You will always be prepared.



Here is the last picture that we have as a family of three.  I was about to POP!

Our First Date...A Memoir

I've had a few readers contact me and request that I share more of my writing.  As with any piece of writing, the author is sharing the depths of his or her life, so please be kind.  This is a piece I wrote some time ago to encapsulate our first date, the beginning of our love story.  I'm old fashioned in a way; I like to capture memories through writing and pictures so that my children and other descendants will be able to get a glimpse into the life that came before them.  May this piece make you chuckle at its cheesiness and fondly reminisce about your own first date (And I hope my husband doesn't kill me for sharing it!  Surprise!)

“So, Do You Like Football?”

As I am browsing the endless racks in search of the perfect orange ensemble for the following day’s game in Tiger Town, my phone begins vibrating from the depths of my oversized bag. “I’m with my closest friends shopping. Who could that be?” I wonder.

“Hello,” I answer cheerily.

“Lindsey, I have met your husband!” my college roommate, Catherine, shouts.

“Well, it’s nice to talk to you, too,” I respond facetiously.

“Be quiet. I’m serious. He’s one of Jeff’s friends from Iraq; you two are perfect for each other.”

“Catherine, I'm not ready for anything serious yet. Can’t a girl be single for a while,” I plead.

“You two have GOT to meet. Meet us for dinner Monday night at 7:00 at Hickory Tavern.”

With that, I hear the click of the line. “I guess that’s settled,” I joke to myself. Now, I need two new outfits!

The rest of the weekend flies by as most weekends do. The dreaded Monday arrives and passes without incident. After working all day with my fourth graders, I speed to my next shift with my second family, the Ike’s. The afternoon and evening hours blur together as I run the taxi from activity to activity. At 6 o’clock, I realize that there is no plausible way that I am going to make it to dinner on time; Hampton’s Boy Scout meeting has run over by thirty minutes.

Reluctantly, I reach for my phone to notify Catherine that I will not make it. The Boys Scouts of America are going to ruin my chance at meeting my “husband.”

“Hey Cat, it’s Lindsey. I’m really sorry that I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. I’m running behind at the Ike household. I hope y’all have a nice dinner,” I rattle off as fast as my mouth will move. Catherine, however, is not going to let me off the hook that easily.

“That’s no excuse. You’re still coming. Thank you for the courtesy of a heads up,” she replies.

“But I have not seen a mirror or make up since 6:00 this morning,” I implore.

“Stop being a drama queen. You’re coming. End of story.”

“Dinner it is,” I mumble. I have thirty minutes to get the kids fed and homework complete before I’m finished at the Ike’s. I tune into my inner superhuman powers to conclude the job at hand. During the five minute drive to Hickory Tavern, I do my best to salvage my day old make up. With only gloss available, unfortunately, it is a lost cause.

After securely parking and locking my Solara, I nervously begin the walk to my awaiting dinner companions. Glancing around the restaurant, I notice two familiar sets of eyes and make my way to the table. My first impression of my blind date is that he is tall, really tall, with a traditional Marine high and tight hairstyle. As he greets me, I notice the crease at the edge of his blue eyes, the sign of a genuine smile. Fresh from the desert of Iraq, his skin has a warm glow and freckles tickle the surface of his tight forearm when he shakes my hand. This man has been trained for war as evidenced in his burly physique. I think I can stand to look at him over my salad!

While the zing of attraction is ever present, the flow of natural conversation is missing. “I know I’m not looking my best this evening, but was my mirror distorting just how bad reality is?” I wonder as I pick at my tangy grilled chicken salad.

My silent blind date, Jared, is enamored by the Monday Night NFL game. Eyes glued to the TV, I try to give him the benefit of the doubt. I remind myself that four days ago he was in a war zone. Of course, adjusting to civilian life (and dating life) must be difficult!

The conversation between old friends rambles on until the waitress brings the check, signaling the close of the date. After paying the bill (hey, at least I got a free meal), we walk as a group to our cars. Anxiously anticipating his next move, I try to remain as calm and smooth as possible. Jared approaches with open arms to give me a warm embrace. I wonder if he feels the same electricity as our skin briefly touches.

“I’ll be in touch,” his southern draw promises as I fold my long legs inside my convertible and drive off into the clear night.

My Why

Many of you have seen my posts about Rodan + Fields on Instagram and Facebook.  Some of you might be wondering what all the hype is about.  Some of you might be annoyed with my posts.  Some of you might be questioning the integrity of the company.  Some of you might be contemplating joining the business.  Wherever you fall in this spectrum, I'd like to share with you why I'm doing what I'm doing and why I'm so darn excited about it!

When my husband and I decided that I wouldn't return to teaching after our second son was born, we thought the natural answer to our loss of income would be to grow my existing business, Southern Dumplings.  As many of you know, growing a business requires further financial commitment.  I felt a tremendous sense of guilt that I was using our savings to buy products and a fancy, new embroidery machine that was worth more than my car.  I'm the queen of worrying.  I have to have a plan that will succeed.  I was really anxious about the financial predicament that I was placing upon my family.  I knew in my heart that I had to let go and let God do His will, but that was so much easier to say than to do.

Because I spent so much of our savings, every penny I spent came with more guilt and more need to explain my purchase.  Furthermore, I was watching our accounts like a hawk.  As you can imagine, this was not a good place for our marriage.  No one wants to be questioned for every purchase he makes.  Sometimes you just need a bagel and a coffee without someone nagging you about it!  As a side note, I must say my husband is a saint for being so positive, so uplifting, and so supportive during this time.  He gently reminded me that we were going to be okay.  We had two happy, healthy boys.  We didn't need extra "stuff" to make us happy.

As I was internally struggling with this guilt and stress, I saw my friend Laura posting about Rodan and Fields.  Out of curiosity, I Googled the company.  My search left me more intrigued, so I messaged her on Facebook to find out more.  I didn't jump right on board.  I talked with my husband, my sister, my mom, and my mother-in-law.  I prayed about it.  I tried to talk myself out of it.  I had no business being in "sales."  I was a teacher.  I would fall flat on my face.  I would give those who wanted to see me fail in life a reason to talk.  Beyond all of these nagging negative comments running through my mind, I kept hearing whispers urging me to take a leap of faith.

I sat at my computer Saturday, June 28th, 2014 while everyone was still sleeping, and I signed myself up to be a consultant.  I did it.  I was going to be successful at this no matter what it took.  I committed and jumped in with both feet.  I am so glad that I decided to stop doubting myself and go for it.

Beyond earning my own paycheck again, Rodan and Fields has become so much more to me.  It's my chance to help others.  One of the things I loved most about teaching was helping students and helping my peers.  I didn't realize it, but as I became a stay-at-home mom, this part of me died a little.  I lost my light; I didn't recognize who I was outside of a teacher.  Through this business, I've found that light again.  I've found my internal drive again.  I've found myself again.

P.S.  I can't tell you how good it felt to get this down "on paper."

Failure Is Not An Option

"Failure is not an option" could be my motto for life. I do not give up easily. I will go down with a major fight. While this motto has served me well in life and led me to some of my greatest achievements, it has also created another monster:  perfection. I am a self-proclaimed perfectionist.

I know this attribute caused my mother much strife in my upbringing. I would hate to know the number of times she read The Strong-Willed Child because of me.

One of my most vivid memories of striving for perfection occurred on a daily basis in elementary school. I would play "Around the World" in my backyard. The object of my version of this game was to make it all the way around and back with out missing a shot. That's how it started. Once I mastered that level, then I would go all the way around and back at a greater distance from the basket. It was a mind game; one I could never escape because there would always be another level as I strived for my idea of perfection.

Perfection didn't just remain on the court. It was an issue in the classroom, in my physique, and later in my teaching career. My wake up call came recently when I heard my son shout as he tore his tower of blocks down, "It's not perfect!"  Whoa, what three year old says that!  I do not want my son to think he has to be perfect. I want him to be himself and know that mistakes are good not evil. We learn from mistakes. We grow from mistakes.

I've watched Hamilton teach himself a new skill. He will repeat it over and over until it is "perfect" in his little eyes. I refuse to let him continue to do this. I wish I would have stopped him this summer as he climbed out of the pool 12758 times until he perfectly hitched his leg over the side of the pool and fluidly climbed out. I need to let him know that Hamilton's version of getting out of the pool doesn't have to look like Kelly Slater 's from Baywatch.

It's time to embrace mistakes, allowing them to mold me into a better wife, a better momma, a better daughter, a better sister, a better friend.

Another Guilty Pleasure

I've already divulged that I like (scratch that, LOVE) to read trashy novels.  I can't help it!  My second guilty pleasure is Kim Zolciak-Biermann and family.  I have been waiting for the 3rd season of Don't Be Tardy all summer.  When it debuted last week, I was out of town and didn't get to tune in live.  I was finally able to catch up yesterday while ironing.  It made the tedious task so much more enjoyable.

This episode was fabulous!  It might have just been that I was able to relate to it so much, but I had to watch it a second time.  I love watching/reading women's experiences with pregnancy and labor. I have loved being pregnant both times.  Call me crazy, but I adore being pregnant.  The hubby gives you top notch attention and care.  You get to plan, decorate, and wardrobe a new little bundle.  That in itself is enough for me.  Who cares if you put on 45 extra lbs, it's worth it!  In addition to being pregnant, I love the experience of labor.  It might be my competitive spirit and high pain tolerance, but it's not bad at all.  My doctor's tried to get me to go natural both times, but I told him that God made good meds for a reason.  Let's not get crazy!

I'm going to share my favorite parts of  the episode and why I loved them so much.  It's about to get real personal up in here...you are forewarned!

1)  "A warm muscle stretches easier than a cold one."
I rolled when Kroy came out with this one.  If you didn't watch, you can guess to which muscle he was referring!  He turned on her seat warmer to get her warmed up for delivery.  Like Kim, I was in labor on the way to the hospital with Parker.  In fact, I went through the worst contractions on the way there and was 7 cm upon arrival.  Jared knew when a contraction was hitting because I would get really quiet.  Don't touch me; don't talk to me. I'll be okay.  This is how I deal with pain.  I do not want you in my face, and Lord help you if you try to tell me what to do!

2) "God didn't intend for them to come through your belly button."
How courageous to share this intimate part of the decision making to try to have a vaginal delivery even though one of the babies was breech.  While it was a gamble to not have a c-section, I'm so glad that it came out the way it did.  I'm so thankful that we never had to have a conversation like this!

3) "He's better than John Elway!"
This is how I feel about my doctor!  Dr. Ted Garcia is the man!  He can make me laugh and tell me how it is in the same sentence.  He's been through two pregnancies with me, and he's circumcised both of my boys.  If you're in the area and looking for a new doctor, go to him!  I truly feel that your doctor can make or break how you feel about your pregnancy.

4)  "That's every woman's best friend."
Amen, sista! Epidurals are heaven on earth.  The anesthesiologist with Parker gave me a really good one; it was so good that my left leg was still dead by the time he was born.  Poor Jared had to hold up those thunder thighs!  He definitely had his strength training for the day!

5) "Go hard, go hard..."
I've already told you that I'm competitive.  When it's time to deliver, it becomes a game to see how fast I can have my baby in my arms.  Hamilton took 30 minutes.  Parker took just 14 minutes.  I know I've been blessed with very easy deliveries.  I am so thankful!

6)  "I'm not ready.  I'm never going to be ready."
This is how I feel about parenting.  You can never truly be prepared for the journey that you are about to embark upon.  No one book is going to tell you what to do in every situation. Trust your instincts and get to know your child. Slow down and enjoy your children, for this season of your life will pass too quickly.

7) Placenta smoothies????
WTH!  Jared might have joked with the nurses that he was going to turn it into a casserole (only in the south, right!), but I could not imagine drinking it in a smoothie.

I hope I haven't scared you away from my blog.  I promise it won't always be this personal!  "Buckle up, bitches," the second episode airs tonight!

Why?

In the last year, it seems that heartache and suffering have been abundant.  Every time I turn around I'm getting an email about another person with cancer.  Instagram and Facebook are flooded with prayer requests.  All of this has left me wondering, "Why?"

Why did that have to happen to the sweetest person in the word?  Why did that baby not make it?  Why is that precious four year old with bouncing curls and a permanent smile facing radiation and chemotherapy?

While I'm steadfastly praying for those who have been afflicted, this one story on Instagram has my heart extremely heavy.  In the fall, I had my first close up experience with the death of a young, precious baby.  Not only was I pregnant with Parker, but Conner was supposed to be Parker's lifelong hunting buddy.  He was going to grow up beside my son.  He was going to be part of our extended family.  We were heartbroken.  While my grief left me shaken to the core, I know it came no where close to the grief of the parents and immediate family.  I cannot imagine.  I continue to be amazed by the strength and courage of Brian and Shannon.

Friday evening I was scrolling through Instagram when I stumbled upon a prayer request for a person I did not know.  My curiosity peaked; I had to find out more.  The healthy, young mother was having an ordinary labor.  At 8 cm the baby's heartbeat became faint.  She was rushed into the OR for a c-section.  Seven minutes later, Landon was born.  It took the medical team another 15 minutes to resuscitate his heart.  With the amount of time that lapsed, Landon lost all brain activity.  The doctors used the cooling protocol to try to heal his brain.  This didn't work; his heart and kidneys began to fail.  The parents took him off of life support.  Landon was expected to only live minutes if not seconds.  This baby lived 17 hours off of life support!  What a miracle!  His mother's writings about this time are beautiful.

With tears streaming down my face, I rushed to our room at the beach house to check on my baby sleeping peacefully in the crib.  I had to hold him.  I had to rock him.  I had to tell him how much I love him.  I had to tell him how lucky I am to be his momma.  And then the words escaped my mouth, "Why, God?  Why do you allow such heartbreak for Your children?  Why do you allow some babies to enter our lives so briefly?"  Why has been on the tip of my tongue way too much lately.  It is not my job to figure out the why.  It is my job to trust fully that no matter how difficult the circumstances may be, it is in His perfect plan.

Landon's mother sums it up perfectly when she writes, "It is not for a mother or father to determine the time our children spend on earth for that has been determined by their purpose.  Once they have fulfilled their purpose, they are blessed with eternal life."

Put on that Swimsuit

As I sit here sipping on my spinach protein shake, I come upon this article.
http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/5521937?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000037

My heart needs this reminder.  No matter the facade I try to hide behind, I'm not comfortable in my post-baby skin. I miss my six pack. I miss my tricep cut. I miss my thigh gap. Furthermore, I have a confession about Monday's post. I didn't post a picture of Ham and me because I look fat.  I didn't post a picture playing with my toddler because I look fat. How selfish!

A few months ago I sat talking with my doctor about my weight loss, or lack there of. He said something to me that has been in the back of my head for awhile. I guess he knows me too well!  He said, "Lindsey, you don't want to be sitting at the pool this summer and people to see you and think, 'Damn, that second child got her!'" He's exactly right. I do worry too much about what other people think.

I am an example to my boys. I want them to be strong, confident men one day. They hear what I say under my breath about my own body. They read into my body language. If I want them to be strong and confident, I better change my ways.

So here's the picture my mom snapped of me and my first born. And here's to a step in the right direction:  embracing the body God gave me to serve Him.

Let's give this another go...

Now that I have a little extra time on my hands (HAHA, yeah right!), I've become a blog reader. Even though some blogs may attempt to make life sound perfect, I love finding inspiration for my closet and reading real-life musings that could be a page in my diary (if I had one).  I admire these women who turn their lives into an open book for their audience. I'm trying to muster up some courage (and a thicker skin) to do the same.

Here's the past almost two years in a nutshell.  Much has changed in my life since my last post. I have taught 200 new kids 6th grade language arts.  On December 10, 2013, our hearts grew as we welcomed John Parker into our lives. This little nugget is the happiest baby!  He is always smiling and laughing. He sure makes me one happy momma!

During my maternity leave, I kept Hamilton home with me. I have relished this one on one time with my oldest.  He is the best big brother; he cannot stand for his brother to cry (good thing it's not much). He loves to entertain Parker and talk to him. I thought my heart was going to explode when I walked into the nursery to overhear Hamilton say, "Parkie, you so cute!"

My original plan for my maternity leave was to take 12 weeks. At the end of that time, I couldn't leave my boys. I was graciously allowed to take the rest of the school year to be with my family. Contract time came around in April. I honestly was so indecisive and could not make up my mind. I've always wanted to be at home with my kids, BUT I love my job, I love my co-workers, and most importantly, I love every child that walks through my door.  I was torn. I was stressed. I'm sure I was a pain with which to live!  

After much prayer and many pep talks from my dear husband, I took the biggest step of faith. I'm staying home with the two lights of my life and trying to grow my business. It's funny how things work out; as soon as I turned in my resignation, I have been crazy busy monogramming. I'm counting my blessings and taking my momma's advice: