Heat, Heat, Go Away

I spent another evening, night, and now this morning deep in thought.

I've been chastising my self for how I was made; that I was made to love cool, calm climates & detest the heat.

I get that this must sound ridiculous, but I feel this ache in me today that I quite seriously wilt in personality & capability to function when the temperature is above 80.

My best friend loves when it's 75 degrees at a minimum.

I LOVE when it's 65 degrees at a maximum.

We have always made jokes about it.

Yes, I am a California girl

BUT

I'm a California Coast girl which means that 75 is often breezy but mostly, the weather is cool, calm, and collected 365 days a year.

When we moved to Oregon, I worshiped the rain.

I was vocal about my love of the grey skies and surprised to find that "the overwhelming amount of rain" was really all hype because it's not that bad.... for ME.

Last night we went to family camp at church.

It's not a spend-the-night camp, but just an evening to interact and be intentional with the kids.

For weeks I have been anticipating this event.

Not like, "oh yay I'm so excited!" but like, "oh my gosh! I just don't know if I can DO this!"

It's ok if you're rolling your eyes

I read that and I think, "Duh-RAMA!"

But here's the thing,

I know my self.

Ever since I was young, the heat evaporates who I am.

And last night, I felt truly ashamed by that truth.

Internally I was telling myself how ridiculous I was & I walked away feeling like the worst mom, wife, and church member.  No one said anything to make me feel that way! I just DID.

I found myself wanting to apologize for who I was that evening and explain, God just didn't make me for heat.

But is that real?

Did God not make me for the heat?

I don't know if I buy that.

I just know that the Allegra you get if we're in a coffee shop is ME and who I am if we're outside and I'm sweating is like meeting three-year old me (at BEST).

So if God made us uniquely with gifts or passions for varying things like communicating, art, hiking, gardening, writing, or public speaking, could He also make us uniquely made for climates that bring out the best or worst in our human spirits?

I'm feeling silly for feeling crummy about who I am today....

"DRAMA!"

;-)

high dives and puddle jumps

This is one of those posts where I feel like it could rub people the wrong way. One that puts my heart out there to potentially be cracked, but I feel it churning and when that happens, it has to come out with all of it's truth & good intention.

My son is turning three.

It's the age old tale for me of making sure everyone is included, no one is left out, and most of all my children only know love.

The tale is a twisted one with bumps and bruises from falls {high dives and puddle jumps} but it all comes down to divorce.

My parents couldn't be more opposite people, both amazing in their own right of being, but oil and vinegar always separate even IF you shake them up for a bit.

I remember when my first son was coming into the world - I worried not only about my in laws but my two sets of parents. Managing expectations and taking personal responsibility for the emotion management of others is something I can't seem to grow out of. I wear it like the five extra pounds I want to shed but can't quite commit to working off. So the burden sits there, like a noose.

Six years of grandchildren's' birthdays later, I still become achingly aware of the crevice of pain that IS my family. Not my husband's or my children's', but my past that always comes knocking. While I have learned to navigate through it, there is still a five year old girl in me who never gets used to watching her mommy & daddy hate each other.

Most of my life, I've lived near with or near my mom.

31 years of it actually.

For one year, I've lived near my dad.

Growing our friendship, sharing the ins and outs of the little things vs. one week a year relational saturation.

Now my mom is the visitor, the the home field belongs to my dad.

I am the field manager.

I am acutely aware of the precautions that need to be established, the traffic signs that need to be put up to avoid any encounter pre-game.

This year, there isn't a pre-game...no party, no birth for anyone to be forced to co-mingle at the center of the field for; there's just a one sided coin toss:

mom wins one week.

see you in a bit, dad.

The pink elephant in the room LOOMS there.

We all pretend fifteen miles away is one thousand, that every day grandparent roles haven't switched, and a state line doesn't divide us.

I am five on the inside, thirty-two on the outside.

I am a mom who desperately wants my children to be protected from the bad relationships that DO exist in their extended family.

I am the mom who struggles to answer their questions: 

"Who's your mommy & who's your Daddy, mommy?"

I am the daughter who probably won't ever reconcile the pain it causes me but I will continually unload the burden on Jesus to show me how to love like a grown woman, not a hurt child.

My son is turning three.

Separate celebrations will happen because it's best for everyone involved;

But wouldn't it be amazing IF we could all lay the burden down and BE love for that little boy in one place, at one time, all together?

It would.

Managing Summer

 I feel like Summer just SNUCK up on me & I can't quite wrap my head around all my hopes, dreams, plans & goals.

Last night I just had to sit down, write it out, and get it on paper.

My personal reality is I have an etsy store that I want & need to succeed. I'm also a mom of a 2.5 year old & 6 year old with night & day personalities {one extrovert who wants all day attention & one introvert who wants quiet time}. Of course then there's also my short resume that includes home accountant, maid, entertainment manager, personal shopper & saver, behavior & character development manager, wife, friend, short order chef, & self.

To wrap my head around all of this succeeding, I had to lay it out not for a strict sense of following a timeline, but to have some structure and order to our every day routine.

At the heart of our family mantra is COLLECT MOMENTS & MAKE MEMORIES so my husband and I really love to live actively with our kids. It includes taking pictures and things as simple as a picnic at the park or last minute pizza dinner at a playground. We love adventure, newness & exploring. I figured with limited brain space for the months ahead, I should do some advance thinking & made a short list for us on those, "I can't think of what to do" moments

So, I'm starting my 1st official Summer Morning following the schedule.

The kids are playing with the legos with PBS Kids on & I'm managing my 2 hour morning work allotment with some instagram marketing, some blogging, & some order processing. 

It's really easy for me to get overwhelmed.

My brain is often a firing ground for chaotic thoughts of lists ranging from the dreams to the do's.

I am HOPING some of this can start to feel natural as I have the grateful gift of being with my boys every day this summer!

Conquering THANK YOU Anxiety

I grew up writing THANK YOU's

It's just what we did...and what we should do!

NO ONE wants to send a gift & question, "did they get it?"

And everyone loves mail!

So, here are a few tips to take the anxiety (& WORK) out of your THANK YOU writing!

GET ORGANIZED

Update your address book...without doing any work!

• Sign up for Postable.com & you will get your own private link to your address book
• Post the link on FaceBook or in a mass Email then your friends and family will input their own information 
• Your address book remains private to only you! The link just allows them to get their information in your address book!

GET STOCKED

Pick an assortment of Cards YOU love!

• Start with a small assortment that includes 1-THANK YOU set, 1-BLANK/EVERY DAY set, 1-HAPPY BIRTHDAY set
• DON'T get scared of the pack price! Remember, when you buy one card at a time, you're spending $3-5 for 1 card! 

GET SUPPLIES

Take the "work" out of your thank you writing!

• Invest in a Return Address Stamp {Self Inking makes it even easier!!} 
• Pick out Stamps from the Post Office that you actually like! {my FAVORITE is the "Vintage Seed Packet" Collection}

GET WRITING

• Start with The Thanks: "I cannot thank you enough for my beautiful candle"
• Make it genuine: "Once again I find myself in awe of your ability to give just the right thing...."
• How will you use it: "I cannot wait to burn my candle this summer when I'm relaxing with my books."
• Talk about them: "Whenever I burn my candle, I will think of you & how we laugh together."

In Short, YOU CAN DO THIS!

True appreciation doesn't have to be long or labored, it just has to be genuine!

Reference your gift & their importance to you and that's what matters!

A Love Letter to My Home

Dear "Red House"

I have wanted to write this letter to you for a long time, but I just couldn't wrap my heart around the concept of it; the concept of really saying goodbye. I knew that leaving you wasn't an "I'll see you again soon," but a, "thank you for the time we shared" and it burned my eyes and choked my throat.

I wanted to tuck a handwritten note into your eves for only you to know, but I was raw & sore with goodbyes I could barely say. I wanted you to keep a piece of truth in your foundation so that no matter where time took you, you would know, that you ARE loved and always will be.

When I met you, you were so broken. You were abandoned and unloved, forgotten and cast aside. When I saw you, I knew, I knew I wanted to share my life with you. I wanted you to shape me and change me in all the ways that I would do the same for you. I wanted to love you whole as I knew you would do for me.

People might think I'm crazy for loving you so, but it's something I can't explain. You were home. You were the first time I had hope that I could plant roots. Where people saw dust and broken bones, I saw scabs that would heal & scars that would mend. You were my vision, dream home, and you became my reality.

Our first night with you was spent as a family of three on a mattress in your living room. We cuddled there nursing our first born through a high fever on memorial day weekend. You sheltered us then. 

We brought our second born home to you. You let me shape a nursery and dream a room up that I missed with my first. You answered this quiet little dream of mine that lived loudly in my soul.

You hosted our friends and families. You stayed up with me during the sleepless nights. We gave you your white kitchen and you gave it back to us. You shared laughter, arguments, and sorrows with us. 

If your walls could talk....

You let Christan protect you & give me my dream with his hand made white picket fence. You kept my babies safe while they laughed and played in your yard. You entertained us on the lawn for afternoon wine picnics with the neighbors. You were our office & our nest.

Dreams became REAL with you, within you.

So, my dear sweet "Red House" as our boy named you, I love you.

I will always love you.

You could not have inherited a better new family to love and to love you back. You are sheltering them as you sheltered us. They are shaping you as you are shaping them. 

You are no longer a house, you are a home.

With love, 

The family who will always know you as home

Unstitched

I use to think I was the most honest woman out there when it came to motherhood.  And to clarify, it's not because I wanted to be, I just didn't know how to be anything else.

I entered motherhood with so many questions, doubts, fears, and un-met expectations.  I was so fatigued form a near 28 hour labor that I have very few memories of my first son's birth. I remember seeing his face & feeling the sweeping relief that, "it was over." When I brought our son home, for the first time in my life I was over taken by the fear of being alone. I was in need of people to be with me at all times. I went in to motherhood with my walls down and completely raw. I had no qualms saying that it was hard, that I was tired, and I wasn't sure I ever wanted to do it again. Those first months shaped me and that was the honesty I took to the streets. 

Birth wasn't magical. Breastfeeding wasn't miraculous. My relationship to my baby wasn't this serene snow globe of perfection. 

Birth was brutal (& nothing I wanted to see). Breastfeeding was exhausting, isolating, and immensely overwhelming. I loved my baby in a way I couldn't describe, but I was also afraid I wasn't enough for him. 

So I talked about it. I wrote about it. This blog was birthed from it. My Lips In Stitches...a lifelong need to write because my journals were all I had & the reality of becoming a mother melded into this one place, one title with two meanings.

I stepped away from this place after I lost my second baby. 

That was a season that bore a hole into the core of my self-understanding. I berated my ambition & I could not embrace the loss that came on Christmas Eve. It was a dark & long season all while being blessed & good in it's own right. 

My fingers have been idle. My words have been mute. My desire to pour out dried up.

Time has passed. A LOT of time. I've woven in and out of this place but I always end up back here. I'm addicted. I'm addicted to the need to lay it down and walk away new. I toyed with the idea of another new blog. My husband asked, WHY? 

Good point.

I thought on it. 

WHY? 

Because I didn't want to re-share this old place. I didn't want to relive these old words. I was embarrassed. I was afraid that I could be judged for this place. I wanted to remain hidden to those who could reach me but be known to those I'd probably never meet. And I've been thinking on this...thinking on it the way you kneed bread...mundane, repetitive thought that eventually molds itself into a final product, or in this case a decision: I will write here again. I won't change the name or hide from the years that brought me here. I'll own this. I'll let the past and present mingle here and dance showing me what can unfold from my vintage thoughts renewed. 

I'll be honest here as I always have been & I will share. I will unleash the trappings of my heart and be free because of it. 

So, cheers. Cheers to the second volume of a place beginning to be unstitched!

Plans Change

Here are some things I have always known about myself

• I like to write.  It's like therapy for me. My moment to clear my head, my heart, & my space. It's where I share uninterrupted, expect no one to really be listening & yet have no problem if people discover it because I am in control of what I put out there. I can't be a victim to what I write. 
• I love to experience the world. Put me on a plane, on a train, in a car, near or far, I want to see what's out there. I love feeling this big in a world that is so much bigger. I find my place in that, I find perspective in it: it's not about me, it's not about circumstance, it's not about an individual, it's about a whole! 
• I've got some serious cracks & some awesome intention to keep gluing them back together. I don't stay broken, I am NOT defined by breaking, I am made by the attempts to try & to improve. 

So, given all of that, it hasn't surprised me that I have found my world uprooted from California and replanted in Oregon. Was it a lifelong dream? Nope. Was it on purpose? Not at first. Has it become a dream? Yah, in many ways it has. Has it developed a purpose? Yes. period. 

We had this plan. We would keep our jobs, keep our house, keep our son in preschool, keep the same friends and maintain the same life. Plans change. We lost our jobs, we were going to lose our house and we had this choice: stay put where doors were staying closed or be BOLD & dare to say, "We are moving north."

So, I think it was God's plan. Scratch that- I KNOW it was God's plan. Because when we said YES to something so terrifying, doors flew open. Do we have jobs yet? Oddly-no. But as it turns out, those are human perceptions of doors. God blew doors down for a place to live, a school for our sons to be a part of, a community for us to belong in, a church for us to find a home in, and friends to fill our hearts with. Did it take away the longing for the ocean we use to drive by, my dream fence my husband built or the ache for our friends, nuh-uh--we just happened to unfold. We found ourselves expanding. We now had new inlets to love and more outlets to pour from.

So we had this California plan but it changed into an Oregon one that looks strange, unfamiliar, and scary to those we put some miles between but if I could say anything to those who feel misplaced, confused, angry, or unhappy the change it would be this: Distance doesn't divide unless it's allowed to. Love doesn't stop unless it's withheld. Bonds don't break unless they are severed. Proximity doesn't change my love for you and that bond can be in the past or be a past, present AND future.