roots, home

I read a blog post this morning about this family's plans to spend a whole school year traveling the world. Ambitious, right? This family has lived abroad before, has moved all over the world. My first thought when reading that wasn't Oo, that would be fun! or I'd really like to do that with my family! Rather it was something like I would never want to do that.

That compulsion to travel doesn't live in my bones. In all honesty, is that anti-desire to see the world up close a character flaw? Because sometimes I feel that it is. I read the conviction this mother has in her determination to expose her children to other cultures and to give them a comprehensive worldview, and I wonder, Is something in me lacking because I don't want that life? I hope not.

What is it that separates the travelers from the non-travelers like me? This blogger and I both value home, family, and learning. But maybe we just go about it differently. My physical home is my haven, and I'd never want to leave it for a year-long globe trot. But there's nothing wrong with wanting to globe trot. I just don't want it for me.

Is it a virtue or a vice that I find contentment where I am, in constancy? I'd like to think it a virtue. Obviously. I believe that my worldview is informed not through geography or cultural diversity, but in other ways, through relationships, storytelling, literature. My perspective is uniquely mine, but I can't imagine that means that a worldview informed by world travel is inherently superior to one fed by roots.

When I really thought about this I decided that I care more for learning about people than I do about cultures. When I ponder on this I come to the belief that people, whether in the Pacific Northwest or the slums of India, have much in common. And I certainly don't mean to say that this writer doesn't care about people, because she does--truly and deeply. I guess our end-games are similar with our road maps different. And that's OK.

I believe that I can incite positive change in the world around me right here in Portland, Oregon. I believe that this home is where I'm meant to be and live and grow and become. My soul doesn't need exposure to all the world cultures to thrive, but perhaps other souls do. Me and my soul require home, roots. I think it's grand that we are all created so different, that our souls all need different things to grow. It makes this world--abroad and at home--beautiful.

Do you travel? If so, why is it important to you? Do you value roots? Do you think that not wanting to travel is some kind of character flaw? Is there something that as a non-traveler I don't understand? I'm legitimately asking here, so if you have input I'd love to hear it. What does your soul need to thrive?

hello, Monday

Hello, Monday.
Hello to kicking off the week by rocking a teething babe instead of sleeping.
Hello to cocoa on a May morning because it tastes good and because I can.

Hello to dentist appointments and the uneasy feeling that the dentist will discover some cavities.
Hello to more water and fewer snacks.

Hello to Arrested Development, and hello to the season of season finales.
Hello to summer shows, and goodbye to Stefon.
Hello to polka-dot sneakers.

{linking up here}

that time I had a birthday

I had a birthday last year. I'm sure you were wondering, because I never blogged about it, and if you don't blog about something can you be sure that it even happened? But I did have one. My birthday came four days after I had Asher, so my body was a mess of hormones and pain medication with my mind reeling in the exhilarating wake of new motherhood. All of my siblings-in-law were in town, and they made my birthday delightful. Think macaroni and cheese made on the grill and the most amazing pesto lasagna you've ever had plus cupcakes with cookie-dough centers plus loving on a newborn all day plus a small nap thrown in.

Josh's gift surprised me. He gave me a gift card to a spa, something I didn't even know that I'd want. I was excited at the prospect, but knew that I wouldn't be able to use it for a while. With a babe who nursed every three hours and didn't fall for the bottle, escaping to the spa for an afternoon wasn't on my radar. Then I kind of forgot about the gift certificate. Then I kind of lost the gift certificate. But when I remembered it I was determined to find it, because dammit, I deserved that spa day. So I found it, and I used it.

I went last month and because of a coupon enjoyed a manicure, pedicure, and a facial. Did I mention that the pedicure was 80 minutes long? Because it was. And it was heavenly. On top of all that pampering, I got four hours all by myself. I love my husband, and I love my son, but I also love time to myself that doesn't involve one ear paying attention to the baby monitor.

When I got home I promptly informed Mr. Wilson that every time I have a baby he has to give me a spa day, regardless of how close or far away my birthday is. That's the new rule.

always a part of me

{Photo by my sister-in-law, Estee}

Motherhood came easily for me. Don't mistake this statement as meaning that motherhood isn't hard for me--because it is. The sacrifices involved are many and all-consuming. The willingness to make those sacrifices, however, came swiftly and surely. Motherhood has opened up my raw soul completely--opened it up to myself, to my family, and to God. Never before have I felt so dependent on my Savior and so empowered by Him.

The longer I'm a mother, the more I realize that I've always been one. The characteristics emphasized in motherhood are elements that I feel as an integral part of myself; the official state of motherhood has allowed those characteristics to be made manifest in greater and brighter ways, but they were always inside of me. So really, today is my twenty-sixth Mothers' Day, not my first.

I feel deep connections to all the women in my life--my mother, my mother-in-law, my grandmothers, my aunts, cousins, and friends. I feel tight cords entwining my life with the lives of every other woman, for we are all connected to motherhood. Whether you have ten children or two; whether you conceived quickly or are feeling that burning, stinging ache of infertility; whether you wed straight out of high school or are still waiting to find your love; whether you have a stalwart mother or a negligent one; whether you want to be a mother or you don't, motherhood connects us all with beautiful, unbreakable bonds of love and sacrifice.

Motherhood is more than bearing and raising a child of your own. It's recognizing those qualities inside of us that are akin to our Savior's, and realizing that we were made to be like Him. Motherhood makes me see myself as my God and Redeemer see me, which is both flawed and glorious. Motherhood encompasses my destiny, my purpose, my soul.

four trips to Target

This morning I took my fourth trip to Target this week. My fourth trip. That's just absurd. But that's the kind of week I've had around here. A four-trips-to-Target kind of week. Every day this week I've felt like it should be the next day, which meant that when I woke up this morning I felt firmly that today should be Saturday. But it wasn't.

It's been the kind of week where I want to binge on chocolate chips but discipline myself to drink a glass of water instead. Unless you're talking about Wednesday, when I did polish off those dark Ghiradellis. This week has been an odd mesh of exhausting and enjoyable, wearing and easy-going. It's the kind of week you end by wearing both zebra print and polka dots, with some leopard print shoes thrown in.

dumped

When I met Condo One, our relationship moved fast. There were so many things about Condo One I loved, so I was thrilled when I proposed and he said yes. But then right as I was about to commit to Condo One, Condo Two sidled on up and stole my heart. Condo Two had everything that Condo One had plus all the things that Condo One didn't have. He was perfect.

I make my move. But the way to Condo Two's heart wasn't as easy as it was with Condo One. Someone else is vying for Condo Two, and I have to give him an ultimatum. And I lost. Condo Two picked the other woman. So here I am, completely Condo-less, because how could I go back to Condo One when he doesn't even have a bathtub? I mean, come on.

So here I am, dumped and looking. Again. I try to imagine Condo Two's new lady and picture her as this hunch-backed crone who can't cook anything more than toast. I think, Hmmph, you lost out, my friend. I try to divert my thoughts to the Condos' less than desirable qualities, like the lack of baseboards. But my heart remembers the corner windows in the kitchen, and my brain tells my heart that neither of the Condos were for me, that I'm better off without them anyway.

Dear Mom, Love the Basher

{circa 6 months}

This post is inspired by this lady and this commercial. I'm linking up here!

Dear Mom,

You're doing OK, great actually.

I knew coming here that you'd be new at this.

And you're doing great at this mom thing.

I know I'm not a super sleeper,

But you're so patient with and kind to me.

Even if you don't feel like you are.

I love that I get to spend all my days with you.

From dawn until dusk we're together,

And I love it.

My naps may not be long, 

But I sure do smile big when you come in to get me.

You smile back, and I know that you're happy to see me too.

Thanks for taking me around everywhere.

I love running errands with you.

I get to sit in the cart,

And you talk to me and tell me what things are.

You ask me my opinion, 

Even though I can't talk yet.

But you ask me anyway,

And I like that.

You care what I think and how I feel.

You're not perfect,

And that's OK.

We'll figure this mom-baby thing out together.

And I think we'll rock it.

You sure do kiss me a lot.

Sometimes I'm in the mood.

But when I'm not and I push you away,

Don't worry.

I still love you.

Obviously.

And even when I hold out my hands because I'm tired of kisses 

You keep going.

I secretly like it.

(Don't tell the guys, though. Kisses are for girls.)

You may not remember,

But we knew each other before.

I remember,

And I'm so happy that I finally get to be here with you.

You know that smile? You know the one.

When I smile that smile I'm remembering.

I love it when we go to Dad's work to say hi.

You and Dad sure love each other.

And Dad sure loves me.

Both of you do.

Thank you for changing my stinkus-winkus diapers

And for wiping my slobbery chin.

Thanks for the baths and the games and the strolls.

I have it pretty good here, you know.

Love the Basher Asher (8 months old)

leftovers

:: The babe and I spent the last half of last week in Utah for my sister's graduation. She is now a master of accounting and got to wear dementor robes.

:: We did some more home searching this week and made an offer on a little condo just south of where currently live. Our offer was accepted, and now I'm dreaming of paint colors and window treatments.

:: Netflix produced a fourth Arrested Development season, set to premier in a few weeks. Josh and I have been working our way through the series in preparation.

:: I got a super part-time contract writing job. It's been good for my soul.

:: In response to Google Reader biting the dust, I took up with Bloglovin'. And (bad pun alert) I'm lovin' it.

:: The weather around here has been beautiful. You'd think it was July or something. Spring doesn't usually hit Oregon until after Independence Day, with summer scraping in around August.

:: We managed to finally make it to the tulip festival today, but found mostly dead tulips. We should have been tipped off when the entrance fee was cut in half.

:: What are your leftovers?

month 8

:: Oh my heart, where do I even begin? Month 8, Baby Boy. You're so grown up already.
:: This babe has such personality.

:: His expressions break my heart with cuteness.
:: He looks more and more like Josh every day.
:: I love it.

:: Month 8 ushered in Asher's second tooth.
:: His drooling continues with no other signs of more teeth.

:: So he just drools and drools and drools.
:: Spitting raspberries is his newest form of entertainment.
:: He thinks he's pretty smart for it.

:: He's a big chatter, especially in church.
:: He makes all kinds of noises.
:: But he often clams up when we're around people other than family.
:: Unless we're in church.

:: He gives intentional kisses, and while they're so, so slobbery, they're the best.
:: He's also entertained with peek-a-boo.
:: He'll crane his neck around looking for you and break out in giggles when you pop out.

:: He's so intentional with his play.
:: It's fascinating.

:: Sometimes I laugh at how surprised I am when he does "real person" things, because, you know, he is a real person.
:: But it's just so incredible to see him figure things out and act with such purpose.

:: That pointer finger is too wonderful.
:: He points at everything.

:: And sometimes he uses both hands to double point.
:: It's probably my favorite new thing from month 8.
:: Except for the kisses.
:: Obviously.

:: Tummy time still looks something like that.
:: So no crawling.
:: But everyone tells me to enjoy his sedentary play while I still can.
:: So I do.
:: Good thing he's a pro at reaching.

:: Naps went from shorter to longer then back to shorter.
:: I think he may be phasing out his third nap, but he can't decide.
:: Overall, though, sleep is so much better than it was at month 4.

:: I don't even think I can express how wonderful this boy is.
:: Our lives are all the better for him every single day.

notes from a traveling mother

Last week Asher had his seventh and eighth plane rides, and I've flown as a solo parent for all but one of those flights. (Someone has to stay and work so we can afford to be the jet-setters we are, right?) So, as a relatively experienced single traveling mother, I've learned a few things.

Change that diaper before boarding. I forgot once and had to sit with a stinky, stinky babe until the pilot finally turned off the seat-belt light.

It's OK if your diaper bag is 20 pounds. It may be embarrassing, but I'd rather have 10 diapers and a bagful of toys on hand than be caught unprepared.

You'll never see your fellow passengers again. He may cry or fuss or even scream, and you certainly don't have time to worry about what the other travelers think. Be considerate when you can, but really, once you leave that plane and get your luggage, you'll never see them ever again.

{sleepy fingers, April 2013, lucky mom}

Nursing in public isn't the worst thing. I'm a private person and prefer not to breastfeed in public, but when I'm traveling with the babe it's going to happen. You can be discreet but not invisible, so some people may notice. They probably won't care, but they might. And if they do, don't worry about it. Like I said, you won't ever see them again.

Use the curbside check-in. I'm lucky if I can make a trip with a baby and pack only one suitcase. I'd rather pay a tip to the curb workers and have them meet me in line to take my bags and print off my boarding pass than haul two suitcases plus a car seat while pushing a stroller. You'll be glad you paid the $3 tip.

{sleepy fuzzy head, April 2013, really lucky mom}

Most people are nice. It's hard to travel alone with a baby (let alone children plural--I have no idea what that's like), and most people are really nice about it. I've had so many people play games with my babe, offer to help and carry things, and let me know that it's OK if my babe has a hard time on the plane. You don't have to expect the worst, because really, people aren't so bad.

Remember your plane has to land eventually. Even if your baby is the worst behaved he's ever been, your flight will end. You can even cry on the plane if you need to. No shame in that.