How to help a friend face the unfaceable

It happens every time I fill out a new medical form for one of my boys. Can your child do this? Can your child do that? I go down the list of questions checking one “yes” box after another. I leave the lines to describe any developmental delays or physical issues blank.

As I looked over the form, my eyes welled up with tears and I start to cry. I feel incredible gratitude, but I also feel such sadness. Sadness because I know it was a moment Annie has never gotten to have.

You know Annie and you know her story. Annie is amazing. Annie is brilliant. And for reasons I don’t always understand, Annie is one of my dearest friends. We first met in college. Another friend had brought me to Annie’s door. I was in the throes of a painful breakup and had convinced myself I had meningitis. Annie gave me some vitamins, a cup of tea, and talked me down from the ledge.

I wish I could say that was the last time her wisdom and wit and unending compassion prevented me from doing something crazy. However, I think that would be less than accurate...to say the least.

Over that past twelve years, we have supported each other through marriages, relocations, career changes, and many a wardrobe crisis. When we got pregnant within months of each other, I was ecstatic. I had my best friend with me every step of the way. We g-chatted constantly about labor strategies, nutritional requirements, maternity clothes. You name it we tackled it. As the months flew by, I couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky I was to face the journey of motherhood with this wonderful woman by my side.

Then, Collin was born.

When I go back and look through our emails to each other at this time, I can only see my blind optimism. Everything was going to work out. Everything was going to be fine. In one email, I told her we’d blink and be watching Collin run around and say, "And to think you were once a tiny thing that gave us such a scare."

I think about that email all the time and I hate myself for it.

In college, Annie had written an untitled poem about me.

she waltzed dramatically away, waving
her arms loosely, wildly, half-singing
half-shouting her love; and I saw us
old, eccentric, eating chocolate in our
slippers, giggling over children and husbands

I knew in the deepest part of my soul that that was how things would end for us. We would sail through this sea of change and come out the other side stronger. Sure, there would be rocky waves and the occasional storm but the destination would be the one about which we had always dreamed.

Eventually, it became very clear that was not the case and that one of the people I loved most in the world was in a huge amount of pain.

I wanted to help her. I wanted to say the perfect thing. I wanted to fix things. Then, I realized that doing anything was really not an option. At one point, a doctor had mentioned the possibility of a very scary degenerative disease that could possibly end Collin’s life at a young age. As my friend faced the unthinkable, I made a pledge. I stopped offering empty promises and offered up the only thing I knew I could. I swore to Annie that I would not forsake her. I swore to her that no matter how bad things got or how hard or painful or sad her situation became I would not turn away from her.

I know that happens. Friendships - for the most part - are based on shared experiences. Our lives change and shift and so do our alliances. You find out who your true friends are, as the saying goes.

I did not know what was going to happen to Collin or what was going to happen to Annie but I knew one thing. I was Annie’s friend and that was not going to change. Ever.

I’m not looking for praise or sympathy. Our journey together was not the one I expected. We got shipwrecked and found a new adventure. However, at the end of every day, I’m still friends with Annie - the specialness of this is something I have difficulty conveying in words.

Annie has shared her story and I only thought I would share my side of it for any of you out there trying to stand with a friend through a difficult time. Learn from my mistakes. Don’t try to fix things or say you understand when you don’t. Stand beside your friend. Hold her hand. Let her know that no matter what - you aren’t going anywhere.

Stop trolling my tragedy

Last year, my family experienced a tragedy. At 20 weeks pregnant, I found out the baby I was carrying was no longer alive. It was an incredibly difficult time made easier by family and friends - and even strangers - who reached out and said they understood or they couldn’t understand but that they loved us and were there for us just for the same.

This post is not about those people.

This post is about the people who wanted to seem thoughtful or sympathetic or supportive but who were actually there for themselves - not me or my family.

I call those people tragedy trolls.

They troll your tragedy. 

These people approach you at any time and in any place and ask you how you are doing. However, they don’t really want to hear your answer. They don’t want to hear that you cry all day and that fear keeps you up at night. They don’t want to hear that you actually aren’t doing that great and you’re afraid you never well. If they wanted to hear those things, they wouldn’t approach you in the grocery checkout line or at a party.

They want you to answer that you’re doing fine and repeat some cliche so that they can go about their day but report that they saw you to anyone who asks. 

These people ask about the intimate details of your tragedy because information is like currency in sad circumstances. Maybe they just want to know what makes you different, what you did wrong, or what they would never do so they can go along on their merry way - self-assured that your tragedy is your’s alone and that they are safe and sound. 

Or they have their own tragedy they haven’t quite dealt with so they use you as a sounding board. They want to relate how they know exactly what you’re going through because they went through the same thing - except it’s often not the same thing at all.

I’ll never forget a dear friend of mine who lost both parents at a young age. She told me people would find out she was an orphan and respond, “Oh, I understand my parents are divorced.”

These people want to witness your sadness without carrying the burden of your grief. 

Brené Brown has a fantastic talk on the difference between empathy and sympathy. She says that empathy involves perspective taking, staying out of judgment, recognizing another’s emotions, and communicating that you understand those emotions. 

Tragedy trolls are sympathetic without being empathetic. They may want to help you but at a safe distance and without getting their hands dirty.

I understand that empathy is not easy. I understand that standing with someone in their grief is an incredibly vulnerable place to be. It is painful. It is intense. It reminds us of painful things in our past or the real threat of pain in our future.

And I’m not saying we all need to reach that level of empathy with every tragedy we come across. If all you can manage is a genuine “I’m so sorry,” that’s fine.  

However, I am begging you to think before you speak to someone experiencing a loss. 

If you feel obligated to say something, don’t. If you feel like you are approaching the encounter to make yourself feel better instead of the other person, don’t. 

Tragedy is hard enough. Don’t make it harder by trolling. 

This sermon is why I'm an Episcopalian

Photo by Rob Holland

This is the sermon delivered by The Rev. Richard Paxton on April 26, 2015, the date of Felix's baptism at Grace Episcopal Church.

Whenever I begin to formulate a sermon, I often start by consulting Bible commentaries. I like to see what biblical scholars are saying as I ponder their meaning myself.

In the case of today’s readings on this Good Shepherd Sunday, I consulted a few commentaries, and a recurrent theme kept cropping up—in fact, a recurrent adjective:  “superfluous.”

Repeatedly, scholars apologized in advance that their commentaries on these bible passages were superfluous. You know what that word means:  “superfluous” describes something that is so unnecessary that it could easily be done away with, like a fifth wheel on a car.

The image of the LORD as the “my shepherd” in the 23rd Psalm, and the image of Jesus as the “good shepherd” in today’s Gospel, are so well known, are so belov’d, are such powerful imagery, are such powerful metaphor, that to comment further on them would be superfluous, or worse:  my preaching might compromise the abundant power found right at the surface of these Bible passages.

Sometimes I wonder if savvy priests haven’t considered such matters when they decide to assign preaching away to the deacon on Sundays like this!

I do believe we pew-dwellers get this idea of the LORD being our shepherd -- a shepherd who leaves us neither wanting nor lacking any single thing, who gives us gentle rest, a refreshing nap in the grass beside a gentle brook; who serves a marvelous banquet for us, right here in front of our enemies; who shepherds us right through those dark shadows of the deadly valley; who brings us home to our safe dwelling in the same way any caring shepherd would.

And I furthermore believe that we get the image of Jesus as the good shepherd. For me, it’s always the banner or stained-glass window bearing the image of that bucolic scene showing Jesus, shepherd’s staff in hand, bearing a sheep draped over both shoulders--gently carrying the once-lost creature back to its fold.

So, lest I become superfluous, all I’d like to say about today is that this seems like a really great Sunday to get baptized! --particularly for a little baby who hasn’t the first clue what is about to happen.

Thinking of Jesus as shepherd is also a great way to think about Baptism, particularly Baptism of an infant.

We might raise the question (and believe you me many people definitely do raise the question): Why would we rush infants into this sacrament?  

Many of our brother and sister denominations actually reject the practice.  They argue that Baptism should be entered into only by those who make a conscious, mature decision to reject Satan and to walk with Christ. It’s a valid argument—an argument that understands the role of faith in Baptism.

On the other hand, some other traditions justify infant baptism as a means of ridding the child of what they define as “original sin.”  They argue that all humanity is born into a natural state of “sin” stemming from the “fall” of Adam back in the beginning. The baby needs to be washed of this sin, and ASAP.

I have a tough time with that concept.  It is perhaps well thought-out theology; but who among us, viscerally, can look down at the miracle of a newborn child and honestly say,“Aren’t you a precious little lump of original sin?”

So, why baptize an infant?  Well, it is important to understand what the sacrament is all about in the first place.

The BCP definition (on p. 858)—expound on Catechism (p.845)

Q: What is Baptism?

A: It is the sacrament by which God adopts us as God’s children, And makes us members of Christ’s body.

Q: What is required of us at Baptism?

A: It is required that we renounce Satan, repent of our sins, and accept Jesus as our Lord and savior. Since clearly an infant can neither renounce nor repent, --much less accept Jesus-- the Catechism asks the next logical question: Why then are infants baptized?

A: They are baptized so that they can share membership in Christ, and redemption by God. But knowing the reader won’t be quite satisfied by this, The Catechism asks the next logical question: How are promises for infants made and carried out?

Answer: Promises are made for them by their parents and sponsors, who guarantee that the infants will be brought up within the Church, to know Christ and be able to follow him.

But after all the arguments for and against infant Baptism, after all the theological wrangling and disagreement, after the Catechetical reference and the questions and answers contained therein …

It all boils down to this:

You cannot escape the overflowing waters of grace that come from the LORD our God.

Whether we choose to be baptized or not,

Whether we decide to reject Satan or not,

Whether we decide to accept the Jesus story (or not), the floodwaters of God’s grace inundate us nonetheless.

And so we baptize Felix.  We flood him with the grace of God’s love, we symbolically drown him into the death of Christ, and we raise him out of Noah’s floodwaters into the new world, a restored world, a resurrection world.

A world in which, yes, the LORD is his shepherd, and a world in which, yes, Jesus Christ is his good shepherd. But also a world in which this entire community of faith becomes a shepherd to Felix— in such a way that he will never recall a time when we were not his shepherds.  

There’s a great reason to baptize a baby: He will never recall a time when, you, Church, were not his shepherds.

Sarah and Nicholas, Griffin and Amos and family, godparents, you religious educators, and you--each and every member of Christ’s body in this room—you now take on Christ’s role as Felix’ Good Shepherd.

Let us all be mindful then, that this Baptism in a few minutes is not some magic act; that the waters are not some supernatural potion that will protect him from all harm in this life.

In time, Felix will learn what sin is.

He will sin himself.

He will suffer disappointments and hurts, and be subjected to many injustices, a few bad teachers, maybe some bad friends, and as Murphy as my witness: even a bit of rotten luck here and there as he comes up in the world.

But Felix will never remember a time when the grace of God was not there for him.  

He will never remember a time when he had to choose whether to avail himself of God’s love.

No, for Felix, God’s grace came unconditionally,

Without price,

Without condition,

Without a doubt,

Without a beginning, and 

Without an end.

God’s love was always there for Felix…let’s acknowledge that… starting right now!

The Wisdom of Louis C.K.

I love Louis C.K. He is considered one of the greatest comedians of his generation but I think he is so much more. Great comedy comes from wisdom and intelligence and - most of all perhaps - vulnerability. Louis C.K. possesses all these things and while his standup is hilarious, I found his recent interview with Terry Gross on Fresh Air more than just funny. I found it smart and insightful. I HIGHLY recommend the whole interview but had to share some of what he had to say here. 

On aging:

“Well, it’s an interesting thing, you know. You - when you get older and you become less in the center of things, which I think is part of getting older, you know - there’s more energy and focus on younger people - you start to resent it at first. You start to feel like, you know, somebody’s taking something away from you. But then you realize that there’s a privilege in that, and that it means that we’re all developing. And it’s part of your responsibility as a human, I think - is to, you know, get old and die. Get out of the way...”

— Louis C.K.

On putting yourself second:

“I realized that a lot of things that my kid was taking away from me, she was freeing me of. A lot of things that men hang onto when they’re younger, they’re just not good for you. And that there was this huge pride in having a kid and also that I didn’t matter anymore. The greatest thing about having a child is putting yourself second in your own life. It’s a massive gift to be able to say that you’re not the most important person to yourself... Because you’re - because you’ll always - I don’t know - because that’s always going to let you down, you know what I mean? The idea of I’ve got to get me right. I’ve got to get what I want. I’ve got to get - that’s got to be right. That’s never going to quite work. You know, life just isn’t that satisfying. But if you can be useful to somebody else, that you can actually accomplish, you know what I mean? You can go, I did a pretty damn good job today as a dad - pretty good - best as I could. That’s worth so much more, you know?

I saw a movie once where Spencer Tracy catches this woman about to kill herself. It’s a pretty dark movie for the time, but - I forget the name of the movie. But Spencer Tracy’s on a boat, and he sees a rich, young girl about to throw herself off the boat ‘cause her fiance left her for another woman. And he’s trying to talk her out of suicide, and he says to her, do you have a job? Do you have anything that you do in your life? Which was a funny thing to ask ‘cause she’s like a 1920s - you know, she’s like a socialite. And she said, no. And he said, I think you should get a job because it’s very hard to be sad and useful at the same time. And ever since I saw that, I keep that in my head.

If you can be useful - which means to somebody else, not to yourself - if you can be useful, it just makes you feel better. So I live in service for my kids, you know? That’s the first priority. And things like my career, they feed into that. They’re part of that because I’m providing for them. But also, it’s just not that important. If something’s not important, it’s more fun. It’s more of something you can look at from objectively instead of having it be this albatross around you. I’ve got to get this right. If this isn’t perfect, my life is a nightmare.”

— Louis C.K.

On parenting:

“Not all kids get a great set of parents. Sometimes they get one who puts in about 50 percent and one puts in about 20. So they’ve got to make up that 30 for themselves or find it in other people - in friends and teachers, you know.

I remember when I was on “The Tonight Show” once with Jay Leno. Rickey Minor was the bandleader for Jay Leno. And he told me that he had a son who was going to start doing comedy, and I said, oh, great. And he said my son graduated law school, but before he goes to be a lawyer, he wants to try comedy, just as a perspective. And I said, it sounds like you raised a great kid. And I asked him, what was your father like? And he said, I never knew my dad. And I said, oh, you were raised by a single mom, like I was. He said, no, my mom was a drug addict and couldn’t raise me. I said, who raised you? And he said a bunch of people. He said, I would just look for mentors in life. He said that he never took having two good parents for granted. You’d think that’s the kind of thing that people have to take for granted, but he didn’t. He found mentors and coaches. He would find - ask people for advice. He built parents in the aggregate.

And I think all kids have to do that ‘cause nobody gets a complete set, you know? No parents are perfect, by the way. It’s not just that some parents are just awful, and these poor kids - it’s part of life. Your parents are going to do the best they can, you know, so I think that’s what I got. I had a very strong working mom. She was an incredible role model for me, but also, she had a job. She couldn’t pay full attention to me all the time. I have three sisters, too, so...”

— Louis C.K.

On being honest about your mistakes:

“That’s all you can really be for your kids is present. And I think, in the end, that’s the best thing you can do for your kids when they come to you with real problems, is try to understood how they feel, and try to give them a place to say how they feel so that they can sort it out. And give them what you can about your past, you know?

I think to tell them that the world is this place where you’re supposed to act perfectly and to represent that you did is a huge disservice to your kids, you know? So, yeah, my kids know that I did drugs. They know that I’ve struggled with that kind of thing. I think it’s important to share your mistakes with your kids and - because you get knowledge from your mistakes and wisdom from it. If you can’t pass that on, what good are you? To give your kids an impossible bar to reach that you didn’t reach and to say, oh, yeah, I never did any of that and neither should you, you’re just making it impossible. But if you can say, yeah, listen, I did it. It really screwed me up. I don’t recommend it. Tell me what’s going on in your life that’s leading you to get there.”

— Louis C.K.

When are you done having kids?

I thought that after a year and a half pregnancy in 14 months I would feel different. I thought after the heartbreak of pregnancy loss followed closely by the emotional and hormonal roller coaster of another pregnancy I would feel certain.

I thought after the nausea and the hip pain and the sleepless nights I would hold this baby in my arms, look down at him, and say, "Hello, little one. You are my last."

I tried.

I see the devastated landscape that is my body and I want to feel that way. I think of the months of weight loss ahead of me and finally having just ONE wardrobe and I want to feel certain. I want to pack up all the baby products and pass along clothes I no longer have to sort and organize. I want to stop planning and wondering and living in the what if's. 

I want to feel done.

My husband says he's done... although he's said that before. For the first few days after Felix was born, he would look at me and say, "This is your last three day old." "This is your last four day old. Soak it up!" After every female we know told him how cruel that was, he finally stopped.

I envy him. I envy my friends who just KNOW they are finished having kids. They have their reasons. Their bodies can't take it. Their budgets can't take it. Their marriages can't take it. 

These are all good reasons. The problem is I know they don't apply to me. My body could have another baby. Another child would mean sacrifices, but we could do it. My marriage is strong and my husband (despite his cruel taunts) is a co-parent on the level most can only hope for.

I wonder if I would feel differently if I had a little girl. I know it makes the emotions surrounding this decision more intense. If I were to say goodbye to any more babies, I would also be saying goodbye to ever having a daughter. That's something I never thought I would have to do.

And yet... I still mean the words I wrote in this post. There are so many things I want to do. There are dreams that stand deferred while my house is full of little ones constantly demanding my attention. 

But then...

Then, Felix smiles or babbles and I remember that babies are WORTH it. Then, Amos grabs my leg and says, "Mommy, I LOVE YOU!" and I remember toddlers are WORTH it. Then, Griffin stands proudly and recites a story he created himself and I remember kids are WORTH it.

How can I possibly give up all that? How can I close the door on what has been the most fulfilling and rewarding time of my entire life? How can I say goodbye to the closeness, the intimacy, the MAGIC that is raising children?

Ever since I've started this journey, the universe has reminded me in a million ways - both big and small - that I have to give up control and sacrifice certainty in exchange for that magic. One would think I would have accepted my fate but no. 

Maybe I wouldn't feel through after 10 or maybe I would have felt done after one girl and one boy. Who knows? I still want the bigness of being a mother to fit into a nice little box. I want to know I'm through having kids. I want to know that this is my last baby. I want to know I'm doing the right thing. 

But that's not who I am and that's not where I am. 

Of that much I AM certain.

Does graciousness make you a doormat?

I wrote this post a couple of years ago but have been thinking about graciousness a lot lately so thought I'd share it again.

I stumbled upon this quote recently and immediately taped it up on my bathroom mirror. It seemed to perfectly capture how I have been feeling late. I spent so many years trying to gain confidence and learn to stick up for myself that recently I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve overshot my mark. In my efforts to defend myself, do I forget about other people?

I’ve always been extroverted. (I know hard to believe.) For many years, however, my exuberant personality was more to mask insecurity. All it took was a well-meaning “tone it down” or a not so well-meaning “abrasive” to send me into hysterics.

As I got older, I began to understand that many people’s problemata with my personality had very little to do with me and much more to do with their own issues. And what did I care? If you can’t stick up for yourself, why should I walk on eggshells in an effort to protect your fragile ego. I mean there’s a reason that my name and the word steamroll often find themselves in the same sentence.

So, when I saw that quote, I began to wonder. Am I gracious? Do I push people too hard? Should I be more concerned with how other people feel or react to me? After all, who wouldn’t want to be described as gracious, as opposed to a piece of construction equipment?

When I began to share my quote with close friends and family, I expected support for my new mission and appreciation for my little quote. Imagine my surprise when the reaction I was most often met with was skepticism. Everyone seemed to argue that signing yourself up for graciousness meant turning into a doormat. But is that true? What does gracious mean?

To dictionary.com we go!

“gra·cious –adjective

1. pleasantly kind, benevolent, and courteous.

2. characterized by good taste, comfort, ease, or luxury: gracious suburban living; a gracious home.

3. indulgent or beneficent in a pleasantly condescending way, especially to inferiors.

4. merciful or compassionate: our gracious king.

5. Obsolete . fortunate or happy.”

— dictionary.com

Hmmmm...pleasantly kind, benevolent, and courteous is definitely what I had in mind. Good taste is always good, so is merciful or compassionate. Not sure where obsolete fits in but fortunate and happy are fine by me. Three threw me a bit - although if you’re going to be condescending, you might as well be pleasant about it I suppose.

Not too far off from what I thought it meant. I want to be kind and courteous. Thinking of others more often is a cornerstone of every world religion and can’t hurt, right? Putting others before yourself (a.k.a. doormat) is a problem and maybe where graciousness got a bad wrap. However, being a doormat is about a lack of confidence—a belief that you are not worthy of others' respect.

To me, graciousness is just the opposite—at its source is complete respect and love for yourself. You don’t base your self-worth on others needing you or being intimidated by you. You know you are deserving of respect and kindness and grace and therefore others are as well.

So, that’s why if you run into me on the street, I might not look pretty (mascara doesn’t make the cut very often) and I might not be witty (that requires the quiet of nap time and a computer screen), but I will be gracious if it kills me...

And if I fall short—I am 8 months pregnant after all—I’d appreciate a little grace in return.

My beauty uniform

I love Joanna Goddard's series My Beauty Uniform on her blog A Cup of Jo and decided I would share my own beauty uniform since my post on my new creme cleansing routine sparked such great discussion!

My Daily Beauty Routine

Depends on the day! Truth talk. Now that I have a new baby some days I straight up don't have time to do much beyond pin my bangs back and throw on some clothes. However, I really try to keep those days few and far between.

Most days I wear L'Oreal Paris True Match Naturale Mineral Foundation. My mother-in-law stuck some in my stocking about five years ago and I've been wearing it ever since. Not the most traditional way to discover new makeup but I love this stuff because it provides nice coverage without making me feel like my skin is gunked up. Plus, it's REALLY nice in the summer when it's hot and it contains SPF. 

In fact, I liked it so much I also wear the blush!

I usually sweep a little bit eyeshadow on - usually whatever color I have on hand. Then, add a little bit of brown eyeliner to the outside of my upper lids and put on mascara. I've switched brands a couple of times recently but I'm going back to Maybelline New York Volum' Express because I haven't found anything I like near as much. 

Let's talk red lipstick.

Three years ago I posted this photo on Facebook and ushered in a new era in my personal beauty journey!

I decided to jump on the red lipstick bandwagon and have loved every stinking minute of it. I truly believe there is a red lipstick out there for every woman and that everyone can rock this look. I love it because I feel like I have a full face of make-up on when I'm wearing my red lipstick. I feel put together and just the slightest bit brave!

(You will feel like you look like a clown at first but you'll get used to it I SWEAR!)

My color is Certainly Red by Revlon. I tried another more expensive brand but it bled badly and I didn't like the texture. I'll be sticking with Revlon from here on out!

The End Of Skin Care Drama

Truthfully, the biggest change to my beauty routine has come from being a mom. I just don't have TIME to put on a bunch of products. Heck, I haven't blow-dried my hair in five years!

I'm not kidding. I just stopped. You can, too. I highly recommend it.

Luckily, mommy friends are an excellent source of tips and tricks to get more from less when it comes to products. Two years ago, my friend Shannon recommended I try oil cleansing. I have had really bad hormonal acne since I got pregnant with Griffin so I was game for anything that might help that. 

She recommended this recipe and I've been using it every night since. No moisturizer. Just oil. I do plan on adding back in some anti-aging treatment once I'm done breastfeeding. But for now I just wash my face and go to bed.

I use Philosophy Microdelivery Exfoliating Wash in the morning and the combo of the scrub and oil has really suited my skin. My daily moisturizer/sunscreen was also the recommendation of a mommy friend (and expert to boot!) the fabulous Shani Darden. I use Control Correctives and really like the light, non greasy formula. 

I like to keep it SIMPLE.

My love simplicity extends to my showers. I'm still using and loving my Purely Perfect Creme Cleanser. As far as soap, I use an actual bar of soap and I love, love, love LAFCO Fresh Cut Gardenia Bath Soap which I discovered last year through Quarterly. It smells amazing and I'm not even kidding lasted almost a year. 

Things I DON'T do.

I don't paint my nails (unless I'm going to be on TV!) and I don't get pedicures. I realized last summer that I just didn't care that much and it became another errand on my list. If I want to have my feet rubbed I go get a foot massage. 

I don't shave. Well, let me expand on that. I don't shave at all in the winter. Period. No one sees my legs or underarms and shaving makes me ITCH. Badly. So, it just doesn't happen. In the summer, I do shave the absolutely minimal amount I can get away with. Like Joanna Goddard, I also have a pretty firm stance against shaving or waxing my bikini line. I wear swim shirts (another important beauty ritual I suppose!) and swim skirts. There's just no need to put myself through that. 

I did stop grooming my eyebrows but I've found a woman who will thread them for $2 in under 5 minutes. That's about all I'm willing to sacrifice in the way of time and money so it works.

I don't wear body lotion. I don't wear perfume. I don't sit in the sun. EVER. I also don't use fake tan because honestly I think it perpetuates the idea that only tan skin in beautiful. And that's bullshit. 

I don't read beauty magazines (or beauty blogs for that matter) and if I could wave my magic wand, no woman would. In my 20's, I realized that cracking open the latest editions of Glamour, In Style, or Cosmo was doing real damage to my self-esteem. I could feel my thoughts shift from almost the very first page. Suddenly, there were a list of things I needed to change. My skin wasn't right. My hair wasn't right. I didn't have the right nail color or shoe or latest skirt style. 

So, I decided I didn't want to spend money on a product that made me feel inferior. I stopped reading them and never looked back. It's one of the best decisions I've ever made. 

My overall philosophy

Not surprisingly, my mother greatly influenced how I feel about my looks and beauty. I always got the impression that it was important to look nice and special occasions were worth the added effort. However, the way my mother looked didn't define her. I never remember her bemoaning the appearance of wrinkles or being afraid to go outside without makeup.

My mother was and is a beautiful woman but that was not the entirety of her identity and it's not the entirety of mine.

The other huge influence was Nicholas. I realized recently how influential it has been on my self-perception and confidence that, since the age of 19, I've had the man I love telling me I'm beautiful on a regular basis.

That's huge and I'm incredibly grateful that the voices I've heard telling me I'm beautiful have always FAR outweighed the voices telling me I'm not good enough. 

What is your beauty routine? What products can't you live without? What's your beauty philosophy?

Why I Throw My Kids Over-the-top Birthday Parties

It’s birthday party season in the Holland household. Griffin's birthday is May 16th and Amos's birthday is June 3rd so the party planning has begun in earnest. Every year I spend a ton of time planning (and designing and crafting and baking) for two big parties to celebrate these awesome little guys. 

I go big and I'm not going to apologize. 

Recently, I’ve noticed the over the top birthday party has gotten a bit of a bad rap and part of it is well-deserved. Thanks in part to the Real Housewives and their like, parties became a spectacle of overindulgence. On top of it all, the celebrated child at these lavish affairs often didn’t seem like they were having a good time. I mean nothing says people are done embracing a trend and ready to judge it quite like a TLC reality show.

And while I would never belong on Outrageous Kid Parties, I do not and will not apologize for my parties. I spent almost a year planning Griffin’s first birthday party. I scoured every corner of the Internet for ideas and spent hours turning those ideas into reality. We had over fifty people in our backyard for barbecue and cake and it was one of the happiest days of my life. I gathered with all the people I love and celebrated this amazing creature that had entered my life.

That experience only gets better as Griffin and Amos become more involved in the process of celebrating. They love to look through Pinterest pages and pick invitations and cakes and activities.

Honestly, keeping them involved in recent years has also helped me keep my motivations in check. The first year the party is for the family and the guests to celebrate the precious life of this little baby. However, as the years go on, I always try to remind myself that the parties are for the KIDS.

So, I've scrapped the water bottle covers because they don't care. I let it go when Griffin wants to add hand-drawn pictures to my perfectly designed invitations. I don't try to talk Amos into a theme that would be more fun to plan.

Amos wants Turbo the Snail. Amos gets Turbo the Snail.

Doing it all again never seems like a chore. (Although I am glad Felix was born in the winter so to spread out the effort a bit!) It seems like a gift. I figure if I’m lucky I’ll get ten birthday parties with each of them before they become too cool for a “kids party” and I’m going to make the most of every one of them. 

The parties and the memories they create are my gifts to them. If God forbid something happens to me, I hope my boys can look at all the effort I poured into these parties and feel my love for them. Not because parents who don’t throw crazy parties don’t love their kids. That’s absurd. I love entertaining and I love creating and every year I get to do what I love to celebrate who I love.

So, my labor of love continues. Now, if you excuse me, I have to hot glue a birthday banner.

What is your labor of love for your kids? Do you hand sew Halloween costumes or cook homemade meals? Does your toddler already have college paid for thanks to your frugal living? Or do you carefully record every milestone in beautifully bound journals? Where do you go above and beyond?