and the time.. it goes.

and just like that, the time keeps going.

It's such a strange paradox, to experience time as a mother.

The days are long, laborious, and repetitive. My mornings are filled with finding socks and packing lunches. I fill the same coffee cup, drive the same thirty miles, and sit in the same classes. Drive back the same way.. Evenings are filled with writing numbers and letters. Gathering up hats and gloves in order to ride bikes quickly before I must start dinner. Again.

bath, books, bed. wash, rinse, repeat.

When the alarm goes off at 6:24, and the house is dark and quiet, it seems like it will be an eternity before I'm able to lay my head back down to breathe in the warm air of sleep.  But before I know it, the house is dark and quiet again.

wash, rinse, repeat.

I looked at Christian today and he looked six years old. He's been six since October, but today, I looked at him and he looked six. It made my heart ache a little bit. I think about how quickly these years have gone by. I think about another six years passing and my heart ache sharpens from a dull grief to a sharp panic.

I'm not ready. I need to prepare for what will happen. I need to prepare for how to be a mother to bigger boys, boys who are are ten, eleven, twelve... I need it to slow down, so I can savor every bit of magic that lingers in the length of these days. I need to remember that days are long but years are short and it's vital not to get swallowed up by the monotony.

Whether I'm ready or not, the time will move.

We'll ride bikes a tad longer tomorrow, the bath isn't going anywhere.

Until next time,
Carmen

a little funny.

that is all.

you're welcome. 

be back soon.

Carmen

as of late.

life lately.

I love spring break SO MUCH.

Don't get me wrong, school is fun too, but sometimes this mama just needs some time to cuddle her babies and catch up on laundry and napping. Fair?

The weather is (dare I say it...) almost kind of springy.

We've been at the park down from our house five times in the the last three days. It's been amazing to get outdoors.

I found this little gem over on pinterest, and I love it. I don't necessarily believe in callings, not in the traditional way at least. But I do know when things excite my soul I am drawn to those things, and that's what this says to me.

My soul has felt heavy as of late. Not in a terrible or worrying way, just in a way that reminds me that this life is full of ups and of not ups. I don't call it down because that's not correct - not for me. I am beautifully blessed, and I live a life that leaves me so incredibly grateful at the end of each day that my heart feels like it just might overflow with love.

Anyhow, my heavy soul has called for some extra relaxing. Plentiful outside time. I've traded my T25 routine for lots of yoga, meditation, and prayer, simply because it feels better at the time being. We have been engaging in lots of games of Memory, Uno, and Sorry. I'm listening to good music and letting it be ok so just slow down and really take time for myself while I prioritize my time in a way that will refresh my spirit.

I'm deliberately taking time to love myself, embracing a spirit of gratitude and grace, and intentionally reflecting some of that energy back to myself.

Namaste friends,
Carmen

if you need this today, I wrote it for you.

I was planning to write a post tonight about life lately around here. It was not going to be interesting, but it was going to be witty (obviously) and to the point. After that I was going to drink tea and watch reruns of Grey's.

Before settling in to carry out my master plan, I was perusing instagram. By golly I love instagram. I was just toodling about when I ran accross something that really made my heart sad. It was a thinspo page. Read: It was a page full of  photos of stick thin girls, mantras about being thin (not fit, not healthy, thin) not wanting to eat a single morsel too much, and so on and so forth. I read the profile of the owner of said page and my heart got even sadder. This profile listed a starting weight, current weight, and goal weight. 111, 101, and 94 pounds respectively.

This user had over eleven thousand followers.

At the end of the day, I'll never know the person behind that account, but I wanted to write them a letter. Just in case, you know, they read my blog religiously.

Dearest friend,

I don't know if anyone has told you lately, but you are quite lovely. Your smile lights up the room, and your laughter is contagious. One of my favorite things about you is how your eyes twinkle when you speak about something that ignites your soul, how your passion rises up into your voice and infects all of those who are listening.

Your witty charm has always impressed me and your movie trivia is impossible to beat. When you're sad, I find it endearing that you always find the same ratty sweater and watch Message in a Bottle, despite the fact that you could recite that film start to finish. You make the absolute best margarita this side of the Rio Grande. I admire your grit, and determination, and hard-working disposition.

Friend, these are the things that make you beautiful. I know it's cliche, but beauty truly does originate on the inside. It forms in the depths of you soul and radiates through you. It's this beauty that draws people to you and builds a life of depth and meaning. You are a marvelous character, and the beauty that you have is irrelevant to the number that you read on the scale each morning, noon, and night.

You are beautiful. Right now today. And tomorrow, and yesterday, and even during that super awkward stage in eighth grade. It is who you are, down to the very core of your being.

I hope you are well, friend. I hope that you don't let anyone or anything, even the scale, tell you what your worth. Because honestly, you are priceless. If you need help, please call 1-800-931-2237 to get things back on track. You are worth it. 

With warm hugs

Sincerely,
Carmen

this sounds like a psa I know, but honestly, if you or someone you know struggles with an eating disorder call the number above to reach the national eating disorders association hotline. they are also online (because who isn't?) at http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org

the bully that spilled my kid's milk.

Christian got bullied at school earlier this week. In the cafeteria at lunch. He came home in tears and it took every ounce of everything I had not to cry as he told me what happened. Evidently a first-grade boy purposely knocked over Christian's milk and proceeded to put his hat, gloves, and lunchbox in the puddle of milk.  I was equal parts furious and heartbroken, on the inside of course. I tried my absolute best to be supportive on the outside. To turn this into a learning opportunity, and be a warm place for Christian to snuggle and recuperate his sad little soul. 

As soon as he had bounced back enough to go play, I sent a I'mSuperPissedButI'mTryingToMaintainMyComposure email to both his teacher and principal about the incident. Let me start by saying that I LOVE Christian's teacher so much. I wasn't the least bit surprised when she emailed me back first thing the next morning and was already on top of it. Yos, Christian, and I were able to meet with his teacher and the principal that afternoon to discuss the details of the event and they reassured me that the bully had been identified and was serving an appropriate consequence. 

I HATE that my son was picked on. He is my son. Nobody is allowed to hurt his feelings. I'm almost surprised by how I reacted. I was a mama bear. I was going to do whatever I had to in order to make sure that this was going to be fixed - that this other little boy would be spoken with about how wrong it is to pick on other kids. 

As we left the school after that meeting, finally, the steam coming out of my ears had been replaced with satisfaction and optimism that this wouldn't happen again. In the relief, I found myself thinking about this other boy. At seven years old, this isn't quite like the time a couple years ago where Nolan bit the tot sitting next to him at daycare to see what would happen. Now, that was mean too, but this child is at an age where he can likely understand that it is wrong to tease other children. To spill their milk and laugh while you soak their hat, gloves, and lunchbox in it... Who even does that? Kids who are needing something that they aren't getting. That's who. 

Later in the evening, I explained to Christian that hurt people, hurt people. I told him how bullying is often is a result of something that the bully has going on inside instead of a problem with the person on the receiving end of the unkind actions or words. 

You know what my guy said in response to that? 

"I hope he isn't too hurt on the inside, maybe I can think good things for that boy so his insides can get better." 

And just like that, once again, Christian shows me what grace looks like. 

Until next time,

Carmen

365.

One year ago today, Jill and I sat anxiously in the IVF clinic waiting for our turn. The RE transferred two sweet little embryos and we all hoped and prayed with all our might.

Today on the phone, Jill told me that Bunny will sit up supported by pillows.

You guys, it's been the most incredible year. For them, but for me too. I'm so blessed to have been a part of something so wonderful... so magical and SO full of love. I spoke with both Jack and Jill today to celebrate our transfer-versary and I am completely overwhelmed with the love and appreciation we share for each other.

Today, as he often says on our calls, Jack said, "Thank you." ..... Those words simply don't capture what his voice is saying. They don't capture the pride he has for his baby. The words don't touch the love he holds in his heart for the life we all worked so hard to bring into this world. The words just aren't enough; they aren't full enough, or rich enough, they just aren't enough to convey what he actually means.

But that's ok, because of course I say, "You're welcome." This isn't really what I'm saying of course. What I'm actually saying is "I WOULDN'T CHANGE IT FOR THE WORLD!" I'm actually telling him that it was an honor to carry Bunny. It's so freaking profound that it changed me in ways that I never could have imagined. I'm actually saying that this adventure we had together touched my life in a way that words will never convey.

So we say things like "Thank you" and "You're welcome" even though each of us knows that those things aren't what we actually mean. We mean so much more.

Until next time,
Carmen

breaking my heart.

Sometimes being a parent can be absolutely heartbreaking.

We've created these tiny humans are who perfect, and tiny, and wonderful. I held them as they took their firsts breaths of life as tears ran down my face. I've held them at night, rocking silently away dreaming of how many possibilities are waiting for this little person. I've wiped their tears and calmed their fits. I've held their hands as they venture off to a list of firsts. First day of school, first day of swimming lessons, first day flying solo at daycare...

I get to hear about their days, and their lunches, and their friends.  I get to encourage them to try new things with only a reasonable amount of fear. I listen to their stories and help them with their letters and numbers. I've nurtured these little bodies and little souls with only what I can hope is the best of myself.

I have dreams for them. Dreams of happiness, and curiosity, and joy. Dreams that they'll only encounter struggles that will make them stronger, and wiser. Dreams that they'll grow up some day far in the distance and become genuine friends to the people in their lives, and be passionate men who crave the most out of life. Men who not only chase after their own dreams, but catch them as well.

But the truth is, life does not always look like this. Life can be hard, and unfair, and ridiculously hard some more. The truth is that everyone struggles to find a place in this big old world, and instead of feeling like an exciting adventure, it often feels like a mess of a road trip. The sting of life is real, and the silence of sorrow is deafening. And while I hope that my young men are as lucky as I, and only have fleeting moments of the ache of a life well lived, I must acknowledge that life can be messy and hard. And at the end of the day it simply breaks my heart that my perfect, tiny, child will ever have to know what that is like.

Until next time,
Carmen