Small Things

Posted on by Lauren

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You see a small girl in big, white boots and I see so much more.

I see the discarded shoes belonging to her three sisters and the slippers belonging to her granny.

I see the matchbox car parked next to the princess toys that define my third-born.

I see my husband’s favorite sweatshirt hanging from the coat rack.  We have no idea how we acquired this sweatshirt.  It just appeared in our house one day and has yet to leave his side.

The nightlight represents the light that chases away my daughters’ fear of the dark.

And that white Tupperware from the 70s belonging to my mother-in-law and filled with flour is temporarily sitting on the bench to make room for all of the Thanksgiving sides in the refrigerator.

A picture is a thousand words.

So look closely at yours.

Because the small things aren’t worth missing.

Matter

Posted on by Lauren

30 miles from the nearest stoplight, I breathed a sigh of relief and the scent of fresh manure.

It was Thanksgiving and we were in the country.

No Wi-Fi and spotty cell-service, I celebrated the disconnect.

Forced to focus on the immediate needs of our immediate family, I found myself face-to-face with an uncomfortable reality:

How often am I looking for distraction?

On top of a baby with special needs, our just-turned four-year-old has been increasingly demanding of our attention this past year, pushing us past our breaking point.

And yet every time I look for a solution, I find her need to connect more with us- her parents.

Third-born, she craves it.  Her behavior refuses to be forgotten.

And yet, exhausted, how much more do we have left to give?

The answer?

We have more.

Dig deeper.

Try harder.

Find patience.

Because when everything else fades away, aside from the manure, nothing else matters.

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Big Picture

Posted on by Lauren

I felt the familiar pull.  The downward spiral. The fall. The loss of control. The pieces of my life that remained in the wake of my breakdown.

Too much, too soon.

I wanted it all and I was tired of waiting so I forged ahead at a breakneck pace, shattering ceilings along the way.

I gave up my career as a teacher to stay home with our first daughter but picked up a part-time sales consulting job when she was just 6 months.  I was successful and I felt driven, until it was more than our family could handle.  I gave it up when my third daughter was 6 months.

Three years passed and I felt restless, eager to grab an opportunity to work as a consultant for a publisher of children’s books that I adored.  I reassured myself and my husband that I could manage it all,  but I failed to consider my innate drive to share my passion, gaining business and momentum along the way until it became more than we could manage.

That’s when I plummeted.

Feeling trapped.  Unable to explore my professional potential.  And guilty for feeling that my children were getting in the way.

Until I remembered that moment in our kitchen when we chose to try for our fourth baby.

I realized that in that choice, I was choosing her.  I was choosing my family.  That I’ve had control all along.

I just needed to see the big picture.

These days feel long but the years are short.

I didn’t give up my profession.  I chose one: Mothering.

And how lucky I am to be able to make that choice.

Big Picture.

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Just Keep Going

Posted on by Lauren

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Believe it or not, I was the captain of my Varsity Cross Country Team in high school.  I attended a tiny, all-girls boarding school just outside of Baltimore, Maryland, filled with rolling hills and scenic trails through deciduous forests.  I like to tease that I led from the back because truth-to-be-told I struggled and wasn’t all that good.

Our coach was a Vietnam Vet and also our American History teacher who completely filled the giant wall-sized chalkboard with keywords he would use to tell the story of the battle, using a broken golf club to whack the board and grab our attention when necessary.  He walked with a limp, a war injury, and during our running practices would scream, “UP THE HILL, DOWN THE HILL, CAN’T GO THROUGH IT, MUST GO OVER, JUST KEEP GOING.”

I found myself chanting this long after our meets were over.  After high school, after an abusive relationship in college, as I worked 60+ hour weeks into the weekend as a teacher, during labor, and now, as a mother of four children with a marriage, house, and part-time sales job to tend to.

Do I want to quit?  YES.  So many times!  So many days!  I’m too tired to get over this damn hill and I just want to sit the hell down.  But in the midst of consideration, I can so clearly see and hear Mr. Bailey barking orders at me.  I can only imagine what he endured to conquer his hills and in my weakest moments, I scrape the barren remnants of my energy reserves and find the strength and will to carry on.

To Just. Keep. Going.

Because the view from the top, I know, is amazing.

 

Camille Vaughan Photography

 

The Calling

Posted on by Lauren

It’s that little voice.

You know the one I’m talking about.

The one that won’t leave you alone.

That red flag.

That green light.

That nagging feeling.

That encourager.

The relentless pusher.

Lord, you are so annoyed by it sometimes.

JUST GO AWAY.

I don’t want to try something new and different!

I don’t want to leave what I’ve known!

I’m afraid.

But there it is and here you are.

That new job.  That new relationship.  That child.  That move.

And, so long as it is in the direction of progress, it’s our job to listen.

If only we could trust . . . and listen.

 

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Camille Vaughan Photography

Hurricane

Posted on by Lauren

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Like, seriously.  What in the actual $*&% am I supposed to do.

A real hurricane is headed our way and yet, I already feel like I am in one.

How many fires a day can one firefighter endure before she needs a break?

So many little personalities, so many big needs.

The demands seem insurmountable.

Until I remember where I’ve been.

And how much more challenging it truly can be.

So, I cry.  I mourn my inability to juggle it all.  To feel like a “good” mom.

And I focus, instead, on what I do have.

A family.  A free country. Health. Resources.

I exhale.

And I begin again.

All Was Well

Posted on by Lauren

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20 months apart, it appeared nothing could separate them.

Until our third arrived.

The eldest went to school, leaving the middle to be a big sister on her own for the very first time.

She took it lovingly and ever-so-seriously, out of which an unbreakable bond was formed.

The Middles.

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#2 and #3, inseparable, especially when #1 returned from school.

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So, we had # 4 . . .

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and all was well, again.

Camille Vaughan Photography