My baby and my hair

There's this conversation from college that I sometimes think of and chuckle. My hair was always a little crazy and pretty much always different. I never have been a girl who wears my hair the exact same way every day. Half-up, straight, curly, messy, bun, braids, etc. I admit that I am a much more boring hair person in my new role of motherhood, but the concept still resonates.

The conversation went something like...
Roommate: "how do you do that with your hair?"
Me: "I just figure out how it wants to be... then I help it along."

My roommate then proceeded to laugh at me for a good while, which is I think why I remember it so well. I had just spoken of my hair like it was a separate living creature, so I guess I understand. And I never thought of that as an actual applicable principle then- but it applies to motherhood pretty dead on.

First, a story:
Rory was sick for a week. (she wasn't dying, just bad enough to be clingy and not sleep well enough to get better) And I'm just not very good at slowing down. You know, exercise, shower, get the baby up, make sure all the dishes are done before Rory has finished her breakfast, get her dressed, finish a project, vacuum the floors, plan dinner, make lunch, do more dishes, four loads of laundry, pick up all the toys, wipe counters, pay bills. Oh, you didn't want to hear about the endless chores in my life? Me either. But by the end of Rory's sick week I couldn't handle the rat race with a whiny toddler. So late in the afternoon when both of our nerves were about gone (insert "HOLD YOU" in the whiniest voice possible 20 times the next time you try to make dinner)  I grabbed her softest blank and we cuddled into my bed and watched a movie of her choice. And as we laid in bed and she held my hand that conversation about my hair popped into my head.

What if I were a little more like that with my kid? What if instead of trying to force her to be the exact same every day (i.e. my hair has a little curl today? Cue the straightener) I tried to first figure out what she's prone to be that day, and worked with that instead of against it? What if I slowed down and watched a movie with her when she was clingy and took her to the park when she had too much energy? What if I sat down and gave her five solid minutes of my undivided attention when she needed it instead of ignoring her and pushing forward at half-capacity because she needed me and I didn't want to slow down?

Even with one baby I have an embarrassing amount of days on record where I have tried to force everything to happen instead of listening to what she needs. And to be completely honest, most of the time what she needs ends up being what I need too. (Funny how that works) I'm not saying you should give your child everything they want right when they want it, but I'm learning there is something to giving your child what they need. So here's to publicly admitting fault and committing to be better. To do more listening, and less ignoring needs until I can't deal anymore. I think this probably means more hand holding in my near future. I've always been a believer that if you put the important things first, everything else will fit. And being a mom- like, really being a Jesus following, intentional, kind mom is just one of those really important things that needs to come first.

Why we left our baby (and why you should too)

We thought long and hard about bringing Rory on this trip.
We are fully and unabashedly obsessed with her, and honestly I was sick just thinking about leaving her for so long. Our life is better and more complete with her in it, so why didn't we take her? After all, it's trendy to vacation with your kids these days. I feel like every famous blogger is constantly taking their kids on trips around the world... am I wrong?

But here's why I think you should take a trip just the two of you. Not every trip you ever go on, but at least a good solid once every year or two.

I think life itself is a process of change and rediscovery, and so our marriages (being a union of two lives) must be thus. So, especially after you have kids and get into the throws of life, do you know who you are as a couple? Not who you were when you got married, not who you are at the end of a long day when you're exhausted and fall into routine, but who you are when you get to just be....you?

I'm glad we didn't take Rory on this trip because it was fun for me to rediscover  Jaylor.
Who have we become as a couple 4 years post-matrimony and 2 years post-kid?

We are:
Dog lovers. We are the people who oogle over every shaggy, sweet dog being taken for a walk. And guys, who knew?! There are dogs EVERYWHERE in Europe. In restaurants, on trains, walking the streets. Everywhere. I had no idea we were (I for sure didn't realize I was) those kind of people. I don't think we ever even looked twice at a dog before getting our own and accidentally becoming dog people in the process and now we are slightly ridiculous.

Foodies. Food was more of a priority than museums in most every city, and thank the high heavens because I don't do well without good, full meals. Also ice cream. Gelato was a priority for us both, and gosh if Jay asking me if I want another gelato doesn't make me swoon.

Hand holders. I remember loving when we were dating that Jay always held my hand. We haven't done a ton of that lately, because when does that happen when you're wrangling a cat... I mean two year old? Grateful that part of us hasn't changed.

Serious talkers. Jay and I aren't chit chatters, necessarily. Jay is my quiet place, and always has been. And I am a big fan of quiet places. But when it comes to talking about stuff that matters (I mean, like relationship stuff, because isn't that what matters the very most?) we don't wait, and we get to the bottom of it. I like that about us. We fix anything that needs fixing. Immediately. And we can talk about hard things, which is a big big deal for me. I don't care if we aren't professional mindless chatterers as long as we can talk when it does matter.

Small town people, through and through. My handle for most social media is smalltowntaylor, and I did it because it's kind of clever... but OH MY GOSH IT'S SO TRUE. You guys, I wanted to die being surrounded by 5000 tourists and signs telling you to watch your back for pick-pockets. It's draining and emotionally exhausting for me, and I hate it. The museums are cool and everything but more often than not I'm just as happy to sit and enjoy God's creations. Roses, beautiful hillsides, the sunset, etc. We both enjoy solitude rather than crowds. Win.

There's lots more, but these were some of my favorites. I told Jay several times on this trip "I like us", and it's true. It's so good (and necessary) to be in love, but it's so fun to be in like too and I think sometimes that's harder to hold onto. I want to always genuinely like Jay and who we are/are becoming together. And if you go on a trip together and don't like who you right now, it's good to figure that out! Use it as a reason to open a conversation, and work toward something you can build on and grow old together with. Grateful for my forever person.

I like Jaylor.

Trials, survival, and thriving

The snow is not over. 

It will never be all the way over. 

(unless you live in certain parts of the world, in which 'snow' can be replaced with either heat or bugs) 

It comes back, whether it's in 8 months or 2 weeks. And some people hate it and some people love it. And some of us love it one day and hate it the next. 

I've thought a lot about it lately. And the snow draws this strong parallel to opposition/trial/heartache for me. Maybe because in a lot of ways snow can pose literal opposition. Whether it's opposition getting out of your driveway, or having to shovel or just the feeling of being freezing cold. None of those feel quite like the warm sun on your skin, am I right?

Anyways, I feel like it's ok to stay in for a day when it's just too much. And it's ok to not drive to the gym at 5am when the roads haven't been plowed. But life does have to go on, and we have a choice what we do with that bit of truth. We can go out and shovel before first light and enjoy the quiet peace and exercise that comes with that, or we can do the same and be miserable and cold. We can prepare to go out in that snow by wearing the right clothing, and driving the correct way for the weather, or act in protest of reality and be miserable.  

And everything applies the same way to opposition. Some days we're going to need to stay in and take cover, whatever that looks like. Some days we're going to need to show ourselves  grace and be okay if we were too overwhelmed to do the dishes or mop the floors (or feed the baby well-rounded meals or go to the gym more than once a month haha) But life does go on- it must. We must continue to get up and brave the snow, so to speak. We must do all we can, and wear warm clothes and pray our guts out and make the best of that alone/crawl-in-a-hole-to-deal time, keep our important relationships as in tact the best we can, and then go out and keep living. And believe it or not, there are beautiful moments in the chaos if we will recognize them. And the sun will come out eventually, even though some storms seem to last forever. And every long winter helps you to appreciate a warm spring, and every bad relationship helps you appreciate your healthy relationships, and every illness helps me feel grateful for my health, and every hard day makes me grateful for easier days. 

I've heard people say that they are grateful for their trials, and I wasn't sure that I really believed that. I mean, grateful for them?? But I'm starting to slowly understand it. When I get to the end of my life I want my life to have character and meaning. I want it to have texture and depth and understanding, and I honestly believe that the way we handle our trials is one of the things that most thoroughly has that effect on our lives. 

I'm not saying I love trials (is that even possible?). I don't ask for them in my prayers or accept them with open arms. They are hard and painful and soul-stretching, which is uncomfortable at minimum. I'm just saying that I've done a bit of aforementioned soul-stretching, and am working on becoming more through my trials. On strengthening my muscles through shoveling the snow, so to speak. 

Maya Angelou said it best, "Surviving is important, thriving is elegant"

So here's to striving for more days of elegance. 

The great flu of Christmas... and Santa!

I'm finally catching up from Christmas. And the fact that I had the flu in these pictures, a fact I didn't really understand until we were already on the train (and again after New Years! Are you serious?!) is a large reason why. 

Regardless, the Heber Creeper's North Pole Express was so fun! None of the girls were big fans of our special visitor named Santa, but the cute elves let Rory dance in the aisles and we were all wildly entertained watching their flirting and general high school age antics, so it was fun for us too! 

Jay and Brooke stayed home because the flu hit them first, then it hit Zane and I on the train, then my dad, then Jess, Steve and Clara by Christmas Eve. (Can we all appreciate that by the hand of God the two littlest didn't get it somehow?! We said at least twenty prayers of gratitude-little people don't know how to aim into a puke bucket!) We were basically a pile of fun through the holidays, but it was still fun to be together and hang out in misery on the living room floor with the people we love. 

There was something that I thought about so many times though, through the great flu of Christmas. It hit Jess, Steve, and Clara at the same time- hard. So I took over being Clara's mommy for a good part of the day. Jay took Rory, Brooke took Winnie, and I took over for Clara. That poor sweet 4 year old probably threw up a solid 15 times that day. We carried around a puke bucket and did a lot of hot water, soap, and bleach cleaning of everything in sight. But I didn't mind at all- I'd already had the flu so I wasn't scared of cuddling her or washing her clothes or holding her bucket. 

And I think it's that way in life. When we've been through something hard- or gross- or scary it just becomes easier to help someone else going through that same thing. We aren't scared of proximity or of standing there with them in the middle of the chaos. There's a silver lining to every trial, and I think most often that's it. I don't believe God sends us trials necessarily, but he's the one that lets us learn from them and find sweet moments (like holding Clara's puke bucket) in their wake. 

My week with Rory

This past week I've spent several days alone with Rory. And when I say it's been the best of times and the worst of times that's really what I mean. Mostly best of times, but we will get to that. Jay had packed up the uhaul and moved our things to Utah (we bought a house! So excited!), so I went to the beach for the 4th of July with my family. Well, they all headed back for work, girls camp, etc. and my house was empty and my husband still gone... So I decided to stay at the beach until they came back for family vacation later in the week. 

Although my family was panicking a little about leaving me by myself with a newborn, I thought it would be great. I mean- the ocean, a sweet baby, and the best ice cream known to man within walking distance? What could go wrong? Though those parts were dreamy, what I didn't know was that Rory would choose part of our time together for one of her growth spurts and would be extra fussy and clingy and need to eat every hour or two.  I was so exhausted. It's amazing what lack of sleep and full responsibility for another human life can do to your nerves. Also the value of having another adult to talk to and give a hug to, or have hold the baby while you take a shower is a luxury I didn't realize I would miss. Luckily, it didn't last forever and after a tearful prayer and a phone call to Jay, she gave me two 3.5 hour stretches of sleep in a row and we woke up two new people. 

But though sometimes the really hard moments try to overshadow everything good, in this case it just can not be done. The rest of our days have been filled with dancing in the living room, swaying to the sound of the ocean on the deck, naps in the kitchen (for her) and the couch (for me) with the doors open for a breeze, taking walks to get ice cream, eating leftover pizza, and lots of cuddling while I read Little Women. Oh and nursing, lots and lots of nursing. 

I'm still figuring out how to be all the things I aspire to be and a mom at the same time. Luckily most of them coincide when I really think about it. We love our little life (and will love it even more when we have daddy in it again), and are grateful. So so grateful.

*Also, we took some self timer pictures today to record the fact that I actually am here. I think all I have from the last three weeks are pictures of this sweet muffin!

What not to say to a pregnant woman

We've all heard the dreaded remarks.
You know the ones... they make everyone who actually remembers being pregnant
[or has any empathy/consideration whatsoever] cringe.

They go something like one of the following statements:
"Wow, you're looking BIG"
"Are you sure you aren't having twins?"
"Only 28 weeks? You've got a looong way to go"
"Looks like we're getting close. Wait, you're only 28 weeks!??"
"So really.... you're sure you aren't having twins?"

Let me explain, because if you've never had the experience of being pregnant maybe you don't understand. Being pregnant is this wonderful experience where you are helping bring a little innocent spirit to earth and you. gain. weight. But for everybody it is a completely different experience. Some women are worried about not gaining enough because they're barfing their guts out for so long. I have a cousin who swears she gains a baby in each thigh when she's pregnant. Some little tiny things gain 60 lbs per pregnancy and have 10 pound babies and pop right back. Our bodies are different, our babies are different, our pregnancies are different.

How it's worked for me is this. I have always struggled a bit with weight. When I got pregnant I was down about 30 pounds, the healthiest I'd been in years, and weighed about what I did my freshman year of high school. Then I got nauseous. My whole regimen of eating habits/shape went down the tubes. I was exhausted. Working out seemed ludacris. [try finding the desire to work out next time you have the stomach flu. not impossible, but really hard] Vegetables sounded disgusting. I had to eat every two hours to keep the nausea at bay. I wanted to dry heave thinking about eating pretty much anything, especially proteins and good carbs. Forget even thinking about leftovers or prep-ahead meals- the smell of that microwave was like death. So really, I ate a lot of soda crackers and top ramen/yogurt. It wasn't exactly the healthiest/best time of my life but I was trying to stay the least nauseous I could while still getting some kind of nutrition for baby Winters. All of a sudden around Thanksgiving I started feeling better, so bring on the holiday food, baby! And because I hadn't really gained anything at all up until this point I just ate the food. [plus, holidays people. holidays] Then we followed December with a cruise in January. [read: cruise=unlimited food at all times] then came cravings, then came the pop of the tummy.

Then came the "huge" comments. Then, and only then, came any insecurity. Up until that point I had been blissfully happy and growing a baby and taking it in stride and watching my belly grow. I was absurdly proud at night when that little bump would start to show and didn't think anything of the weight gain. Then came the comments.

First, let's just think common sense. Would you say anything that held those same connotations to anybody other than a pregnant woman? Is it ever acceptable to comment on a woman's weight gain when it happens any other way? Probably not. Every one of those comments implies we are either gaining weight at an unnatural pace, looking large enough to house another small child in our growing belly, or are just huge. I'm not too easily offendable, but I just can't seem to twist any of those into a rose colored lense and make them into something nice.

not cool batman.

I don't care if we are huge. Show some dang respect for the work we're going through. Show some respect for the nausea we've endured, for the fitful sleeps, and [for some women] the miserable miserable full 9 months. Have some respect for the years we are about to encounter: the baby raising years. We are brave enough to take that on, and maybe we aren't brave enough just yet and need some support. There are lots of women who refuse to go out after a certain point in pregnancy because people just don't show enough respect. I implore you to think about how you make people feel.

So next time you see a pregnant woman, and you feel inclined to say something... make it kind.
You don't have to be dishonest and tell us we're tiny. We don't care about being tiny.
You do not have to ask if there are extra babies in there: we've had ultrasounds.
You can tell us you like our shoes.
Or you can tell us we look great, beautiful, cute, darling, etc.
You can even say how excited you are we're having a baby. Guess what, we are too.
If none of the above work out for you and your filter: keep it to yoself.
Please and thank you.

Signed,
A Pregnant woman

why dating is hard.

Dating was so hard.
Gosh, I was thinking about it the other day, and it was hard.
Sometimes I remember how fun dating was, and yes, that's true.
But overall, even if you're going on dates, and even if they're fun dates-
at the end of the day it's hard.

You know why?
Because you have options, and none of them are easy.
You can choose to be open and vulnerable and experience it fully.
Or you can block yourself off and put up walls and keep yourself safer from all that.
But it ends. Whatever it is for you, it ends.
The game is not meant to last.
There's going to be one that's right for you someday,
but until that one comes everyone else will be wrong.
That's the reality of it, and some days it sucks.
Sometimes it sucks because you wasted time on someone that was wrong,
and sometimes you're not even sure what was wrong at all- but it was.

But somehow when it ends, whatever it is, this little voice inside your head tells you you weren't enough. Sometimes it's glaringly obvious that they were not good enough for you, but that little voice is loud. It shouts, it's convincing. And then when they start dating someone else the little voice shouts that you weren't enough but they were. And when you're having a bad day it shouts. And when you see them online or in public it shouts.

It's terrible. And girls, it gets to us. Boys, you may not talk about it so much, but it gets to you too.

I'm here to tell you that it's a BIG FAT LIE.
You are good enough. You are more than good enough.
I bet if you compare strengths to strengths you are so far beyond whoever it was
that it seems silly you were ever there in the first place.

The fact of the matter is you were enough, you just weren't right.
And that's okay. Thank heavens they said something or you said something or whatever and however it happened it ended. Because sometimes being with the one that's right for you has bumps in the road- but can you imagine trying to do it all with someone that wasn't right? Maybe someone who didn't have the capacity to love you the way you ought to be loved? Or didn't appreciate your quirks?

I don't think it's asking for too much but I WANT SOMEONE TO LOVE MY WEIRDNESS.
[thanks for being that someone, Jay Winters]
And you should too.

Stick it out.
Find someone who loves you enough.
Find someone who loves your quirks and weirdness.
Find someone who will make you laugh, if that's what it is for you.
At minimum find someone you can laugh with.
But whatever it is you're looking for, know that you're enough.
You may have not been right for anyone yet, but you were enough for all of them.
You have always been good enough. You will always be enough.
But if they couldn't see that, then they were not right for you.

And that's ok.
So dating is hard, I know.
But keep on keeping on, because someday you'll find someone that's right for you.
God has a way of working it all out the way it's meant to be.

"I can make my own decisions, thank you": a post on gratitude

I am grateful, I hope you know.
I am blessed, and kneel in prayers of gratitude each night.
I am grateful for the stars to remind me I'm small,
I'm thankful for my Brother, to remind me that I matter.
I'm grateful for my sweet little home,
and for the best friend to share it with.
I'm grateful for the clothes on my back,
and that I live nestled between the mountains.

One thing I've been really grateful for the last few months is that I got to choose.
When I was dating Jay, I just wanted God to tell me to marry him.
Um, hello. That would be so much easier than choosing myself.
So I would get frustrated that I didn't know for sure.
I should have trusted that the man upstairs knows what he is doing
and enjoyed the ride more than I did.

And you know what I have realized?
I'm stubborn, and independent.
I always have been.
When I was a baby, my mother couldn't rock me to sleep.
I would reach for the crib after only a few moments.
I could make my own decisions, thank you very much.
I don't like others to make decisions for me, and I never have.
So why was I so wishing for someone to do so now?
If someone told me I needed to lose weight and put me on a diet, I resented it.
If someone set goals for me, I chose to make different goals.
If someone told me to focus on myself, I went outside myself and got involved with others.
I have always made decisions for myself.
Had I been gifted the answer of who to marry,
I wonder if I would be as happy with that choice.
Under inspection of past experience, I would say not so.
I couldn't see it then, but there is wisdom in all things.
I made my own decision, and I chose Jay to be mine forever.
And despite a moment of hardship where I wanted differently,
I will forever be grateful I was allowed to do so.
The Lord has reaffirmed my decision a thousand times over.

The Lord is so wise.
He knows how I make decisions,
and though I wanted so badly for this to be different...
He knew I needed to choose for myself in order to be the happiest I could be.
That's what He wants after all, for us to be happy.
It is called the plan of happiness for a reason, you know.
So today, and forever, I am grateful the Lord knew me enough to let me choose.
And I am grateful I chose Jay. I am more grateful and understand more all the time.
Truly some of God's greatest gifts to us are the requests he leaves unanswered.
I am grateful for a million things, but my choice to marry Jay is one of the biggest.

cheers to more years

Last week marks Jay and I having been together for a year and married for 6 months,
and what an amazing, growth-filled, happy year it has been.
We went to Park City last weekend for a romantic dinner (steak, of course)
and came home promptly because that is our very favorite place to be.
Call us what you want, but we would rather be home and cuddled in a blanket than most anywhere.

Seeing that it's been a year, we reminisced on what we've learned and our favorite moments.

Hands down, our wedding day was the happiest day on record.
Of course there have been plenty of perfect, happy moments since...
but April 27th as a whole was just moment after moment of pure happiness.

I love that day, and the boy and family and friends who I got to share it with.
Looking back on the last six months, I feel like I've grown exponentially.
I've learned that communication is more powerful than I ever realized,
and that there are some things that matter less than you think.
Consequently, some things matter more than you thought.
I have learned that the Lord knows me, and knows what I need.
I know that because he sent me Jay, who is not what I had planned,
but is so much better than anything I knew was out there.
I have learned that what they say is true-marriage can be work,
maybe even hard work sometimes,
but being married to Jay has brought a whole new level of happiness I never knew existed.
I have learned that my husband is the funniest person on earth,
and is the only one who can make it all better.

That's how I knew it had to be him, at the end of the day.
If I was off, if something was wrong, if I didn't think I could do it anymore:
he was and always has been the only one who can make it better.

Happy six months, my blue-eyed boy.
It sure has been happy, hasn't it?

how to be healthy and eat heavy whipping cream

No, you're not about to be introduced to some weird health fad.
I'm not going to tell you to eat only vegetables, or liquids, or anything of the sort.
I just want to talk about being healthy.
I want to talk about how to be healthy.

I'm not claiming to be the epitome of perfect health,
but I've figured out a few things through my rocky relationship with my body over the years.
I'm a happier, better person for it and I think it's time I share what I do know.
And I really started learning the things I know now when I met Jay.

Let's rewind for a second.
I hated my body for a lot of years.
Hate is a strong word, but in some ways it's accurate.
So anytime something went wrong in my life,
anytime a boy didn't like me,
anytime I didn't have the confidence to go after something,
I blamed my body.
Maybe not always intentionally, but still pretty much always.

"If I was skinny, it would be different... it would be easier... I would be happier"
And that continued to magnify the problem. 
And somewhere in between there I tried crazy diets,
and ate too much, [because who cared anyways]
and I exercised to punish myself for eating,
and I never could reach that skinny point that I wanted so badly.
Then I fell in love with a boy,
and he loved me for exactly how I was,
and I still weighed the same I always had.

And very slowly, I began to love my body.

Now, I'm not saying all it takes is a boy to love your body.
Apparently I was just so blinded by hate that God had to send Jay to intervene.
I think the word I'm looking for is..... stubborn.

But I think more than love my body,
I began to care about my body.
And I cared for a variety of reasons.
I wanted to be healthy and feel good and be happier and better and have healthy babies someday.
And I wanted to stop abusing my body.
And consequently I began to treat my body better.

I didn't do any crazy diets,
I didn't starve myself,
I just listened.
And when I was hungry, I ate.
And I ate what I felt like eating. 
Sometimes I craved a little sugar,
sometimes not.
And I followed my body's orders.

I wasn't trying to lose weight anymore,
I was simply focusing on treating my body well.  
And it came off slowly, imperceptibly, but hasn't come back.
And now I'm married to that boy,
and on occasion I cook with heavy whipping cream.
And I don't even punish myself.
And sometimes I eat fries for lunch,
and I don't even feel guilty.
And sometimes I feel like I've eaten too much heavy food,
and I eat an apple because that's what sounds good.

And that sweet husband of mine liked me how I was twenty five pounds ago,
and likes me how I am now.
Because he loved me.
He didn't care about that number on the scale I'd been obsessing over.

Being healthy is an adventure, not a destination.
And shockingly, healthy looks different on each of us.
We just have to figure out what makes us feel good,
and what our individual healthy looks like.

Now I'm re-figuring out my relationship with exercise.
Because it was my punishment for eating for so long,
I've got to reach a healthy medium there too.
But that's a story for another time. 

I searched up some pictures that are painful to post,
but I think they help tell the story a little.
Maybe you don't really see the difference, and maybe that's the point!
I see it, but mostly I see the way I felt then, and the way I feel now.
Not all of you will understand, and you may have never been at war with your body before.
But some of you have, and maybe some of you will have daughters that will.
Some of you have best friends who battle themselves, and some of you have wives.
And I hope somewhere in there this gives you understanding, or hope,
or just a quick read about what it felt like to be me for a long time.
And where I'm at now.

I hope you're happy today,
I sure am.