The Return from Spring Break

Today is the first day back to school after my school’s spring break (and approximately 85 days until Baby Finnley gets here, but who’s counting)! I am so excited to be back with my students, but also already starting to feel anxious about these next few weeks.

The thing about the weeks after spring break is that they go by fast. Like really fast. It’s like once we return from winter break in January, it’s an arduous uphill battle to get to spring break, but once we get back from spring break we are flying!

We only have eight weeks left of school at this point, which to some may still seem like a lot, but they are eight action-packed weeks. I teach at a high school in Michigan, so the first two of these weeks are filled with SAT/PSAT prep and then the actual test days. Then, because my admin loves our students and likes to recognize hard work, we have a reward day for our young scholars. We then have prom, and community clean-up day, and again because my admin loves to celebrate our students we have a senior decision day to celebrate our graduates. After that is graduation, final exams, and then ultimately the last day of school. 

It’s like I’ve been pushing and pushing and encouraging students to take the time to explore the topics we have been covering…but suddenly there’s no time left. I feel as though I’m in such a rush to pack in as much as I can while I still have time, but at the same time I’m kind of just ready for the year to end so I can start making changes and planning for next year. I don’t know. It’s a lot and a heavy mix of emotions.

I don’t know if there are any teachers reading this (past or present), but if so, has this been your experience? What have you done to level out all of the chaos and emotions during this time of year? Also, what is your favorite way to wrap up each school year? It may be my fifth year, but I’m still trying to figure it all out.

Pursuing Our Children: A Jax-Babe Date

Often times, when we read stories about lasting love, we are met with the concept of continuing to “date” our significant others. We must continue to pursue them. Essentially meaning we need to be intentional and take the time to take time for one another and learn each other as life changes and we change. It may take some extra time and might require some serious scheduling, but it’s well worth it to make sure we build and maintain strong bonds. I have always loved this concept and was the first to subscribe to it as it applied to romance and marriage…but what about our relationships with others? Our parents? Our friends? Our children?

Earlier this week, I had a couple of appointments that I couldn’t afford to put off so I went ahead and took the day from work to make sure they got handled. Since there were also a good amount of errands to run as well, I figured I would knock them out between appointments. A busy day indeed. Not at all the day I wanted off of work.

As I began to get ready for my oh-so-exciting, my husband had a brilliant idea that actually would make the day exciting. Why don’t I bring our oldest along for the day? An excellent idea.

So, Jax and I got ourselves ready and we headed out. We knocked out my appointments, scheduled a repair for my damaged windshield (eyeroll), and went grocery shopping just to name a few of the boring tasks—or the would-be boring tasks, if I didn’t have Jax with me.

I kind of allowed myself to bounce through the activities like nothing, but once we stopped for lunch and I sat across from this beautiful blonde-haired boy, watching him slam his chicken nuggets, I found myself in amazement and filled with such gratitude for him. The morning really had bounced along quite pleasantly and that was because of him. In all that he is, and at risk of sounding totally cliché, he totally does make the most ordinary of situations extraordinary. Somehow he spun our trip to Safelite into a special mission for us to embark on together in order to ensure the safety of our family and a trip to the grocery store was a treasure hunt and an amazing race all in one. Every little stop was an exciting insight to his amazing mind and a chance to actually have some, dare I say, fun.

I made sure to tune in as he explained to me how crazy it is that the sun melts the snow so that’s why the roads are wet and that’s a bigger problem for the zombies than it is for us but we should probably still make sue we get our car fixed just in case because even though Daddy is very strong, zombies can still eat our brains—but I couldn’t help but get a little lost in my own thoughts of how much I genuinely love this one-on-one time with this kid.

I mean, it’s not like this thought is necessarily profound or anything like that. Anyone who has met Jax knows he rocks. Between work, and chores, and practices, and all of the other life things (all of which I am very grateful for), my roll as a wife and mom of two all gets kind of lumped into one. I don’t like this. It’s not one roll. It’s three. I am a wife to Corey. I am a mother to Jaxon. I am a mother to Brady. Although breaking these into three separate parts may seem like more, which it totally is, it can be more good if I choose to let it be, and I need to choose to let it be. Each of these precious dudes deserve to be tended to and loved on as individuals. Especially as our family grows, I need to make this choice.

Time is going way too damn fast and I don’t want to miss out on the chance to know my boys for who they are as individuals. This may take some extra juggling and finessing of schedules, but as I peak in the rearview mirror at the sleeping boy, who I swear was my Mickey-loving toddler just last week, it is well worth it all. It is well worth it to continually pursue my boy.

Seven Years

Last week, my Facebook alerted me with a TimeHop memory that really shook me up. Typically, as sentimental as I can be at times, I don’t actually give much thought to these virtual flashbacks. The post was from seven years ago though, and perhaps that’s why I opened it and perhaps that’s why I keep stirring in it.

Scientists who study cell biology have come to find that cells from the human body are continually dying and replacing themselves all the time. The cells do this at different rates, depending on what part of the body they are coming from as well as various external stimuli they encounter. Although they do this at different rates, there reaches a point that all cells have been replaced, and some scientists argue this point to be at the seven year mark. So, in other words, every seven years a person can be virtually brand new.

Seven years ago, on September 14, I made a post on Facebook about domestic abuse. My post included information on how to help those who you may believe are being victimized and things to look for to potentially identify victimization moving forward. My post clung to the idea of hope for those who had been victimized, stating that surely it is possible to leave the darkness and forever find your face in the sun.

I’d be lying if I said that I actually believed that last part at the time of my post. I wanted to believe it though. I wanted to believe that I wouldn’t always feel as broken as I did then. As unlovable. As scared.

This year, on September 14, I celebrated my one year wedding anniversary with my amazing husband. The day was busy in the organized chaos type of way because that’s just the phase of life we’re in right now, so unfortunately we did not get to spend all that much time together during the day. In the time we were together though, he pulled me close in a tight embrace that made me feel secure. He kissed my lips softly and when he told me he would see me later I felt excitement. He waited up for me and made me dinner, showing me he wanted to take care of me. We lied in bed talking and I felt joy, and some even bubbled out of me in the form of laughter. He pulled me in and held me close to his chest and I felt safe.

All were seemingly ordinary actions that might even sound boring or mundane to some people, but I would say that the people who think that are perhaps luckier than they realize. Even my husband. My husband’s actions came without careful consideration as his actions are truly just an overflow of his heart. All of it was highly impactful to me though. In the midst of the ordinary, the mundane, the usual and the day-to-day I was able to feel things that I at one point thought that I would never feel again.

I felt whole. Loved. Safe.

Although the theory of cellular rebirth and replacement is still disputed and more research is still needed to solidify an exact number, seven years seems spot on to me. After seven years, I feel brand new.

September 14, 2021—Our Wedding Day

The Fairytale

For many girls, we grow up reading and watching fairytales and fantasize about our lives being just like them. Often times though, we end up like Rebel Wilson’s character in Isn’t It Romantic (side note: if you have not watched this movie you are seriously missing out. I, and I’m sure my bff Callie would agree, suggest dropping everything right now to go watch.) and find ourselves disillusioned by the thought of it all as we realize that our lives don’t quite fit the mold of these happily-ever-after type stories. We begin to roll our eyes at the losers with unrealistic expectations and insist that they all grow up. Our hair isn’t always perfect, we don’t completely dazzle everyone in the room, and Prince Charming isn’t always the first cutie we meet when we leave our parents’ house…sometimes he’s not even the tenth or twelfth. Total bummer, but it is what it is.

What I’m starting to think though is maybe we are the losers. Maybe our expectations are unrealistic. Maybe growing up doesn’t mean giving up on the fairytale.

I met Corey on a dating app after getting fed up with the types of relationships I was finding myself in. I had had just two serious relationships in my life, one was with a guy who was abusive to me in various ways and was with a guy who didn’t want any of the things that I did and I honestly to this day don’t understand how we lasted as long as we did. I had gone on dates here and there, but nothing was fitting quite right. I matched with Corey and just decided to give him a shot. I’d be lying if I said his big, manly arms didn’t have something to do with it either.

The two of us quickly had to lay all our cards on the table as we both had pasts we desperately wanted to avoid and, as most know, he had a kid. The getting-to-know-you stage of our relationship didn’t happen through long strolls in an evergreen park or by candlelit dinners. It was actually more like a game of twenty questions. We laid the facts out there, assessed, and decided to move forward from there.

A few months in, we were in the face of COVID-19, and found ourselves trapped in a house together, raising a baby. This was basically our supplement for romantic dates and the slow progression of “firsts”.

Before we even reached the one-year mark, we were pregnant with Baby #2. Although he was planned and the most beautiful blessing, this was not how I had originally planned it. I didn’t recall reading this in any of my books growing up.

But it was just three weeks ago that I found myself having an almost out-of-body experience as I sat in front of the most gorgeous balloon-lined backdrop at the baby shower Callie had thrown for us. All my family and most of my closest friends were all there helping to celebrate mine and Corey’s little baby-to-be. I smiled and cried as we opened gifts, feeling like I had been blessed more than I ever deserved, and praying that the tracks from my extensions weren’t visible as my hair was already a mess.

We had just finished opening a gift and just as I was putting it aside, Corey stood up.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming,” he began, “It was really, really special to us that all of you were able to make it. I keep hearing over and over again that Kris is going to be such a great mom, such a great mom, but—”

At this point, he got a little choked up. People cheered, a friend made a joke about allergies, and I started to cry because that’s what I do.

He cleared his throat and continued, “She’s been an amazing mother for the past two years already. So, this is nothing new to her at all. As you see, we’re getting ready to leave for Michigan; we’re very excited to start this next chapter in our lives. There’s just one thing missing—”

As he said these words, my tears were freely flowing. I still couldn’t wrap my brain around the idea that this wonderful man before me could think so highly of me. Further, I couldn’t believe this life is mine. None of this was ever anything I imagined. My mind became a total blur, as did the room, but things began to focus as I blinked up to see Corey now taking a knee in front of me.

My heart was beating out of my chest. This was not real. My eyes met Corey’s.

“Will you marry Jax and I?”

This was not the way it ever happened in the books and movies. This was not the way I played this scene over and over again in my head. Never did I picture myself eight and half months pregnant, in a room filled with people and my son’s toy cars, looking into the eyes of a bearded man covered in tattoos. My hair wasn’t perfect, I didn’t completely dazzle everyone in the room, and Prince Charming wasn’t the first cutie I met when I left my parents’ house. This was not the way it ever happened in the books in movies.

Do not be mistaken though. These were the most perfect words ever spoken. This was the most beautiful room I had ever been in. This was the happiest ever after anyone could have ever agreed to.

In a million years, no one could ever write a more perfect fairytale than the one I’m living. It is unique and chaotic and absolutely enchanting. Best of all, it’s real. To think I almost gave up on the possibility too! We should not let ourselves be disillusioned by the idea of a fairytale. There is such thing as a happily ever after.

Oh, and by the way, I said yes.

Pregnancy, Fitness, and Body Image

As I write this, I am a tad bit over eight months pregnant (Oh my gosh!) and I know what you’re thinking—I really have done a terrible job of documenting this pregnancy, publicly anyway (I keep a private journal of damn-near everything). While I am the type of person that definitely believes some things are just meant to stay private, I am also someone who appreciates when others share their experiences to help me learn and feel inspired, so I try to do the same for others. So today, when I realized just how little I have posted about my pregnancy, I couldn’t help but to feel a little disappointed in myself. I couldn’t help but wonder, why have I not posted more? Have I not enjoyed being pregnant? Am I not really proud of this baby?

When I really thought about it, I realized the answer. First, there have been things I simply did not want to share. I hadn’t wanted the world to know my baby’s name, the details of my birth plan, or some other things that will be surrounding his birth. I do not have any regrets about not sharing those things. In the future, maybe I will. Or won’t. Who knows? Secondly though, I had not been posting more about my pregnancy not because I felt ashamed or because I haven’t been excited, but because I have felt very uncomfortable in my growing body. This part I do regret.

Early on in my pregnancy, I had talked about feeling joyful in the changes, but that was very easy for me to say when I still had yet to gain a pound or inch, much less twenty. When I did start to really grow though, the weight and inches came on fast and strong, and it was a lot for me to handle to be quite honest. When I had my first prenatal appointment after Christmas break, I wept when my midwife told me my weight.

For some of you, this may seem very dramatic, but this moment was very harsh and real for me. In my twenty-five years of life, I had never liked my body and had very few moments where I was able to feel any amount of confidence in my looks. The weight of the “Man, you’re huge!” comments, along with the weight of the baby, fell hard on me. Although Corey has patiently talked me through countless emotional outbursts and a few of my coworkers have showered me in kind words, my silly mind continued to focus on the negative and let voices from my past to live in my present.

Super toxic. No more.

This past weekend, I was asked to model for a fitness apparel line that is specifically being marketed toward pregnant women (Y’all, the stretch and comfort factor of Halio Lifestyle Athletica is no joke). My good friend was heading the campaign and the one who asked me to model, which is honestly about 90% of the reason I said yes. I did not feel like I should be having my picture taken, much less be shown to help market a fitness line. “No one is going to want to look at this,” I told Corey, looking down at my huge belly.

The day of the shoot, I was still feeling uneasy. The leggings and sports bra I wore were absolutely beautiful, but I still tensed up when asked to remove my sweatshirt. I still took it off though and posed and laughed along, trying my best to fake it till I made it. My girlfriend who was taking the pictures hyped me up the entire time, but again, I just wasn’t feeling myself.

When she sent me some of the photos the next day, telling me how cute she thought I looked, I still wasn’t feeling myself.

I kept coming back to look at the photos though. Initially it was hard to look. Then I would openly gawk at myself, zooming in to criticize the moon attached to my abdomen and how scrawny my limbs looked in comparison. Eventually though, I became kind of amazed at myself. It finally hit me.

I’m growing a gosh darn baby in my belly!

For the past year, especially the last eight months, I have eaten a clean diet and put in hard work at the gym and done all that I could to gain and improve health. As a result, my body has been able not only to conceive a child, but to grow and develop a healthy one. I still don’t think my belly is the most beautiful of them all, but I know it is beautiful. Baby Boy and I have definitely grown bigger these past eight months, but we’ve also grown stronger and healthier. I have learned my limits and so much more. That is something I am proud of.

I am proud.

I am also very inspired and determined. I am inspired and determined to continue putting in the work to take care of my body (and mind) as this little dude continues to cook, and to continue doing so after he is born. I want to model for both my boys what a happy and healthy woman looks like, and I also want to continue feeling proud of myself. I figured if I wrote about it here, I might bring some comfort to another mom, and I also will give myself some accountability. A journey of health and improvement is one I can definitely promise to document.

Always and forever I am thankful to the people who have done nothing but lift me up (literally Corey with the belly lifts, you the real MVP) throughout this pregnancy. Always and forever thankful to be pregnant.

Early Pregnancy Things (& The Top 5 Things I've Learned)

If you are reading this post, then the cat is officially out of the bag…I AM PREGNANT! That’s right, I, Kris, am pregnant with a real life human baby. It moves and breathes and has hair and a heart and everything. At the time of me writing this, I am fourteen weeks along, and I am still freaking out. This is so crazy to me.

It’s crazy because this is something I have always wanted, but never—and I do mean never—thought I would have. Shoot, my doctors didn’t even think this was something I could have, but that’s a story for a different day. Since I was old enough to play mommies with my sisters and friends, I lived with a deeply rooted fear that this would always just be make believe for me.

Last November, when I met Corey and learned he had a son, I didn’t even let myself feel hopeful. I honestly felt jealous of the woman he had Jaxon with and fearful that he wouldn’t want me if I couldn’t provide more children for him. I know that seems pretty heavy and awfully dark, but it is my truth. As time went on and Corey and my relationship grew to a level where he felt comfortable letting me meet Jaxon and eventually be around him more and more, I completely fell in love with both of them. While I very clearly understood (and still do) that Jaxon is not my blood, he was (and is) everything I have ever wanted. Suddenly, this joy didn’t feel like make believe and, while I still feared not being able to conceive, that fear didn’t consume me anymore. If I was never able to carry my own child, it really would be far more than okay.

Fast forward to two pink lines…

Believe me when I say I still struggle to write this. I thought that after three months I would have the words, but there still aren’t any that can justify the level of shock, excitement, gratitude, and absolute fear I felt when I learned I was pregnant. Six sticks later, and I still couldn’t believe it…Well, six sticks, a blood test, and even hearing that hummingbird heartbeat later, I still can’t.

I feel so incredibly blessed to be able to carry a child and to grow this family I have with Corey and Jaxon. I have loved seeing the ways our family has evolved so far. In the short fourteen weeks I have experienced, so much has already changed. I know so many more things will change and I have so much to learn, but here are some of the big lessons I’ve learned so far…

Your real friends will be happy for you first.

While the news that you are expecting a child may be the biggest and most exciting thing to ever happen to you, it might not be for everyone else. Crazy, I know. How could this not be just everything to everyone?

The reality is that people have their own sh*t going on, whether that be good or bad. Some people might be in the middle of planning a wedding or learning that they too are expecting a little bundle of joy. For these people, it may be hard for them to focus on anything but the joyful changes happening in their lives. Others may be dealing with loss or even coming to terms with the fact that they are not where they want to be in their own lives. For these people, your good news may come as a slap in the face to them and be really hard to take. Trust me, I’ve been that friend.

Regardless of circumstances though, the simple fact is that the real ones, your true friends, are going to be happy for you the moment you tell them, no matter what. The sorrow and other joys will come later and will be shared regardless, but not before celebrating your happiness, your little (or big) victory. Also, it isn’t selfish to expect this. If you’re a true friend, you would do just the same.

Your body will change quickly and drastically.

As you can read in any parenting book or app, or as your doctor has probably informed you, from the moment that your egg is fertilized, your body will start changing to adapt for your baby. These internal changes are instantaneous to occur, but may take some time for you to notice. They are happening though.

The early noticeable changes very from woman to woman—from changes in hair (greasy to dry) and the appearance of acne to the swelling of breasts and feeling of fatigue. Some women get them all and some experience not a single one. (I experienced them all, by the way. Yay me.)

Most of these changes are seen from week to week as the baby develops. One of the craziest change I have noticed though occurs daily. I’ve looked it up, and apparently it’s pretty common: the am vs pm belly. Maybe two weeks after I started showing, I noticed my bump was little (and a bit lopsided) when I woke up each morning. By the time I was undressing for my shower before bed though, my bump was big and much more round. As my belly has continued to grow, this cycle has repeated itself each day. The pregnant body is a wild thing!

Comparing yourself will kill your joy.

It really does go without saying, but for any mamas-to-be like me, EVERY PREGNANCY IS DIFFERENT. Truly, this is the case. Although the basic process is the same, each woman’s journey through this process is unique to her. From symptoms to showing, it is all different. Let it be.

I started showing quite early in my pregnancy and immediately started looking up pictures of women as far along as me and texting my friends who had children about how early they started showing. As someone who has always struggled with my body image, seeing my body grow even though I was eating clean, working out, and GROWING A HUMAN INSIDE OF ME was admittedly hard for me to deal with. Then, when I started comparing my belly to others, I felt very ugly and dismayed by mine. This wasn’t just with my belly size, but with all of my symptoms, sonogram pictures, name ideas, everything. The more and more I read and talked to people and compared myself, the more and more I became worried about, saddened by, and dissatisfied with my pregnancy.

This was what I had wanted my entire life.

Finally, with the help of Corey, I took a step back, took a deep breath, wiped my eyes, and realized that when it comes to this, no one else matters. Like, who cares if people don’t like my Baby’s name? I love it and I chose it with love and intent. And what about my appearance? The acne and hair growth are natural hormonal changes, not death threats. Further, my quickly growing belly is a very big reminder that God has answered my prayers and I have a baby growing inside of me. Really though, as long as that little dude is there, forget everyone, I don’t have a single reason to feel anything but joy.

It’s crucial to take it easy.

This point is doubled-meaning.

For the first part, working out and taking the stairs and all of that is still perfectly fine if that’s what you’re used to. Many doctors will even encourage you to continue these things. That being said, it really is important now that you recognize and respect your limits. Now is not the time to decide to try to be a bodybuilder. Plus girl, you already totally are (Get it? because you are building a body inside of you.)

Secondly, and arguably more importantly, take it easy on yourself. Just take care of yourself and refer to my last point. You’re doing great.

It’s okay to not have it all figured out.

Personally, I am a big planner. I like to have everything perfectly figured out in full detail before I start anything. While getting pregnant was definitely something planned for as a whole, I am realizing more and more that not all things can be planned for, nor do all things need to be.

Obviously, it is important to find a doctor you’re comfortable with and plan out your appointments and all that good stuff that helps to ensure the health and safety of your baby. The other stuff though? It’s okay to take it as it comes.

Now, I am in no way saying that your baby’s name or nursery theme are not important, but what I am saying is that they are not worth the stress over. It’s not like they have any crazy early deadline or like you don’t have months to make your decision. The types of bottles or pacifiers your baby takes, if even at all, is seemingly unpredictable. All diapers are pretty close to the same thing, plus leaks are going to happen no matter what. And your baby’s heartbeat is not dependent on whether or not you get a stroller or a harness carrier.

Listen to the advice from others that comes from love, consult your doctor, lean on your support team, and remember in all you have like 280 days. It’s totally okay to go one at a time.

{Step}Motherly Things

Being a mom to someone else’s child is hard. Very Hard. Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful and wonderful in many ways. Also though, it’s hard.

Loving Jaxon is easy. It has never been anything but that. I still remember the first time I held that sweet baby boy in my arms, feeling like I had never felt more complete—I had never felt more like myself than I did, and still do, with him in my arms.

What’s hard, I think, is what has come from this effortless love.

It’s been nearly a year since that first, glorious morning I have already mentioned. In that time, I have gotten him out of bed each day. I have changed the morning diapers. I’ve made his breakfasts, enduring the ones he didn’t like being thrown at my face. I’ve watched him grow out of clothes and learn his colors and body parts. I’ve learned and relearned him as he has grown and learned and changed himself. I do not exaggerate when I say I have loved each and every second of it all.

In my eyes, in my heart, he’s mine now too.

But it’s that “too” that’s hard. It’s that “too” that hurts.

In just a few short weeks, Jaxon will leave Corey and I to go back to his mother, who has been honorably serving our country overseas during this time. This is a good thing. I know this. While I have not spent time with Jax’s mom, almost all I’ve been told is how much she loves and cherishes her sweet boy. Who wouldn’t want that for a child? And honestly, who would want to deprive a loving mother from her son?

Once Jaxon goes back with her though, I will endure the horrors of a clean and quiet house, a late-waking Saturday morning, and early-setting Friday night. I will face days without seeing his sweet face and hearing his perfect, little voice. Sure, I’ll get to see the photos mom sends to Corey, but it’s just not the same. Once Jax is with his mom, Corey will still get to be the dad, as he should be, but I will no longer be the mom, or babe (what Jax calls me). I won’t be anything. Not until it’s our turn again, anyway.

I’m in no way trying to diminish what a biological parent does or take the place of Jaxon’s mother—I would never do either of those things. What I am trying to say though is that no one talks about this feeling. No one talks about being a childless mother. No one talks about the pain of having a child that’s not really your child to anyone but you.

I would never trade a second of this life. Every single part of this is beyond worth it. That being said, being a mom to someone else’s child is hard.

Easter Things

Although it has been almost a full week since Easter, I felt as though it was only necessary that I share a thing or two about how I celebrated Easter this year.

I’m sure just like most of you, this was my first Easter spent in quarantine. In addition, this was my first Easter to not be celebrated with my family. Even more, this was my first Easter to celebrate as a parent(ish) myself. A lot of firsts, and a lot of pressure to make the day as special and joyful as possible.

Growing up, I was blessed to have a mom who would always take special care to ensure that Easter was done right. Sunday morning, my sisters and I would wake up to beautiful and personally packed Easter baskets; Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were all big, home-cooked, and absolutely delicious; The beautiful and heart-wrenching story of Jesus rising from the grave was told in such a way that we knew we were deeply loved. My mom was good, and I wanted to be good for Corey and Jax.

Eggs are thought of as a little more precious this year than previous, so we decided that boiling and dying were not the way to go, and Jax is still a bit too young for so much candy. So, I filled his basket with a tiny chocolate bunny, some bubbles and bubble accessories (his fav), and hid cascarones around the house for him to hunt. I wish I had pictures of Jaxon’s face when we presented him with his basket that morning—pure delight.

It was to my delight though a couple hours later when I discovered that neither Jax nor Corey had even ever heard of cascarones. The surprise, the excitement, and the joy on both of their faces as each one cracked, having their contents spilled everywhere was truly amazing. I couldn’t help but smile at how lovely their happiness was.

We spent the rest of our day outside, soaking up the beautiful day. Corey manned the grill, making us a delicious Easter meal, and I mostly followed our precious boy around with a camera. He’s still a bit too young to understand, but as I dressed him for bed and gave him his night-night kisses, I made sure to tell him that Jesus loved him so, so much.

It was by no means a normal Easter, or the one I imagined us spending together, but it was still pretty darn good if I do say so myself.

Working from Home: Week One

Remember the days when we wanted the weekend to last just one more day? Or spring break just one more week? Remember when we just wanted more time at home, and away from work? For me, these thoughts were pretty frequent. Finally I had a truly happy home, all I wanted was to stay here…but now I have to.

Now don’t get me wrong, I still have a very happy home, but being forced to stay in the actual house all day, everyday is starting to drive me a bit crazy. I’m not sure how everyone else is coping, but I know I have been running with high emotions and missing the things and people who brought value to my life as I left the house daily.

Fortunately, this week brought me a bit closer to my prior life. This week was the first official week of my school hosting classes online. Thus, this week I was able to attend faculty meetings, teach class, and interact with students just like I normally would…just this time via Zoom. To be honest, the faculty meetings gave me a headache and kids were way off topic, but it all brought me such a joy. I needed some normalcy.

In addition to my 8-4 online teaching gig, I was also embracing the full-time stay at home {step}mom life I had always dreamed of. Between and during read alouds and lesson plannings, I chased around a toddler, changed diapers, and washed dishes. While it was super nice having such an adorable coworker that I could kiss on, I have to admit that I am beat after this week!

I feel like I have been hit with one of the biggest learning curves of my life. I have the greatest respect for all the pre-corona stay-at-home mamas and daddies, because this life is wild! It is all a beautiful kind of chaos though. I am blessed to still be working and beyond blessed to have the greatest boyfriend with the sweetest son. This being said, I can’t help but wonder What are people doing to stay sane during this time?