Twinsies.
/Well, at least we each have a child that resembles us!
Well, at least we each have a child that resembles us!
It's time to bring in the reins a little. Even though we eat almost all "whole" real foods at Casa de Bailey, we've gone a little overboard lately with the sweeteners {even natural ones like maple syrup and honey}, smoothies choc full of fruit, and "healthy" Paleo desserts. I realize that during a tough day of parenting, I reach for the dark chocolate or another sweetened latté faster than I can say a prayer for help. It's time to take a step back and lessen the hold that food has on my body and emotions.
Enter Whole30 - where you clean up your diet for 30 days straight, eating only whole, real foods. The focus is on healthy meats and veggies, healthy fats, some nuts and seeds, with a bit of fruit. No grains, no legumes, and no sweeteners of any kind are allowed, not even Stevia (insert wide-eyed nervous face). Here are the rules.
This is going to be hella-hard, but good. I've done an anti-fungal diet for a month, and it's difficult, but at least I had Stevia so I could still have my beloved coconut milk lattés. During Whole30, they're going to have to be unsweetened, which makes me shudder...which confirms how much I rely on that sweetness to satisfy myself.
What am I hoping to get out of this?
This morning, I went to the grocery store and stocked up on a rainbow of veggies and some fruit {mostly berries} to begin the journey. This weekend, I'll add more produce from our Urban Acres share, some chicken and grass-fed beef, and Holy Kombucha.
Whole30 starts tomorrow. But first, a practice round this afternoon...{unsweetened} iced coffee with {unsweetened} homemade cashew milk and some cinnamon. It really hit the spot. I can do this.
If you've done Whole30, do you have any recipes I must try? And if you're doing Whole30 now, let's support each other! We owe it to ourselves and our bodies to set our minds to this and do it fully. I know I'll feel so much better at the end of this 30 days. Are you with me?
This is a staple in our house - homemade nut butter (usually almond) in a mason jar that lasts about 2.5 seconds before it's gobbled up completely. To me, homemade nut butter tastes so much better than what you'll find at the grocery store, and because the nuts are soaked and slowly dried first, it's actually a lot easier to digest.
From Sally Fallon’s book Nourishing Traditions…
“Improperly prepared nuts are very difficult to digest without depleting your store of digestive enzymes, making it difficult for you to gather any nutrients from the food you eat. Commercially available roasted nuts are most likely not soaked first which means they still have enzyme inhibitors. To make the awesome storehouse of nutrients in nuts available to you, you can soak and sprout them first."
So here's how I do it...
Ingredients:
Directions:
First, soak dem nuts. It takes a bit of planning, because you have to soak the nuts two days before, but it's worth it. Before you go to bed, put the raw nuts in a big bowl and pour enough filtered water over them to cover all the nuts. Some of the nuts will be floating on top but don’t worry, they will eventually sink into the water. Sprinkle sea salt on top. Cover the bowl with a towel and let soak for 8 hours overnight.
In the morning, simply pour the nuts into a colander or strainer so the water drains out. Rinse them. Then spread them onto a large cookie sheet so they are all in a single layer. Sprinkle all the nuts with more sea salt, as much cinnamon as you want, and a wee bit of cayenne pepper if you want (this is how I like them).
Then, I put them in my oven’s warming drawer on medium for approximately 24 hours. If you don’t have a warming drawer, put them in the oven on the lowest possible temperature for around 24 hours. Check the nuts periodically – they are done when they are perfectly dry and crispy, not chewy at all.
No one wants chewy nuts.
Now you're ready to make nut butter while the nuts are still warm (it makes it easier if the nuts are warm, but it's not required if you can't make them right away.) You'll need a powerful blender (like a Vitamix) or a food processor. First, melt the coconut oil. If you're using a Vitamix, pour oil into the blender first, then the nuts. If you're using a food processor, first add the nuts and start processing them until they become pasty, then add the oil.
Don't be afraid of the coconut oil! Keep mixing and add a little more oil to make it the consistency you want. If it’s crumbly and doesn’t hold together, there’s not enough moisture. If you just want thick, pasty nut butter, you don't need as much oil. I like mine creamy.
At the end, I add about 5 drops of Vanilla Crème Stevia or about a Tbs of honey to add a bit of sweetness. You don't have to sweeten it though.
You could also add more cinnamon and cayenne pepper for a kick. I've also seen people add dried unsweetened coconut flakes and blend them into the nut butter.
Done! Scoop with a spatula into a glass mason jar with a tight lid and store it in the pantry. It doesn’t usually stay uneaten for long!
Mother's Day pancake breakfast tradition ~ last year // this year
This Mother's Day, in a quiet moment on the couch eating blueberry pancakes served by my oldest daughter, I had a glimpse of her as a big girl, and my heart exploded a little.
I don't even remember how she went from barely speaking words to us having full conversations about thing like "where do fairies live?", "what makes cars go?" and "what's it like to live in africa?"
And this year, I feel even more heavily the weight of time passing. A few weeks ago, on our first morning of homeschool, I announced it was snack time, and Luci Belle dashed out of the playroom into the kitchen ahead of me. In the 15 seconds it took me to put my pen down and gather the baby from where she was playing on the floor, I heard screaming coming from the kitchen. I ran in there, and she was standing on the floor in front of the counter holding her bloody mouth, and one of her bottom teeth was on the floor.
Her first lost tooth. At barely age four. And not on purpose.
You'd think I'd grown accustomed to these moments, as in less than four years, she's already busted her forehead open twice and knocked the wind out of herself another time while jumping off the coffee table {which we've since gotten rid of until...hmmm...our kids leave for college}. But no, there's no "growing accustomed" to your child screaming in panic and pain and the realization that she's again been scarred by life in this imperfect world.
I don't know where I got the idea that life should ever be perfect, but unfortunately I carried it into motherhood with me. My babies came into the world without scars, and I wanted to keep it that way. And although I know it's just appearances and it sounds ridiculous to be upset about a tooth, I'm still human, I'm a mom, and it makes me sad.
I kept my sadness about the tooth falling out between my husband and I and a few close girlfriends. {"Daredevil!" one friend responded. Another appeared at our front door with a Dora balloon. Yet another reminded me, "Perfection is boring."}
I looked on the bright side - the tooth was on the bottom, it wasn't a permanent one, and it came out cleanly without any other damage. And of course more than anything, my daughter is still whole, still her beautiful, spunky self. Thank you, Lord.
But I just feel fragile now. I'm feeling the weight of the fact that there's really only so much I can do to protect my children. It's such a difficult thing to love them and protect them while also surrendering them to the One who actually loves them more than I ever could.
And as much as I want it to be, life just isn't perfect.
The best part is, she doesn't mind at all. She thinks it's fun to have a window in her mouth and keeps showing it to people proudly. She's blissfully unaware of how long it's going to be until the new tooth comes in.
Please, my sweet girl. Stay this innocent and unaffected by the world as long as you can.
On Mother's Day morning, I looked at her sitting across the couch eating chocolate chip pancakes {her favorite} and uttered a silent prayer,
Please don't let me do anything to break her carefree spirit. Don't let me crush her with my own faults and weaknesses. Please rid me of this desire for a perfect life so I don't pass it on to my children. And thank you, thank you, thank you for protecting my girl once again.
So we approach age 4 with a window in her mouth. I look through, and I see a picture of the little girl she still is, a glimpse of the big girl she's yet to be.
~ "These Are Days" by 10,000 Maniacs
"Sacrifice crosses a line into martyrdom when it's not balanced with self-care. Our kids don't need a martyr; they need a mother. A martyr gives up her life to the extent that she no longer exists – she loses who she is while taking care of everyone else. A mother cares for her family and cares for herself. She allows motherhood to expand her experiences and her understanding of herself. A mother models the art of self-care for her children when she pays attention to her need for rest, nutrition, and exercise. She shows them how to find a Friend who understands when she takes the time to pray and read God's Word. She strengthens their faith when they see her turn to God for answers to her own life. Following the example of Christ we can learn to sacrifice without losing ourselves along the way." ~ from Real Moms, Real Jesus by Jill Savage
Almost 4 months in, I'm finding what the "art of self-care" means with two children. Awhile ago, I learned my lesson that self-care cannot fall by the wayside after having kids. Sure, it's more difficult and maybe looks a lot different than it did before {say, a 5 minute shower with a baby in the Bumbo at your feet}. But for me, it's non-negotiable to get in some self-care time however small, so I stay both sane and healthy. The goal here isn't perfection, as if that were even possible. A little goes a long way.
Here are some ways I've been practicing self-care lately...
And then there are those crazy days when you got in zero self-care, no matter how hard you try. So you end up at "happy hour" at your friend's house at 5pm. While your kids play together, you drink a glass of red wine and color unicorns and rainbows in your friend's kid's coloring book. And that's okay too.
One day Steven and I will sit around talking about "when the kids were young" or "when we had little ones in the house." Onesies will be gone for good, diapers will be a burden of the past, and we'll wish we had puzzle pieces and crayons and Sophie The Giraffe toys to pick up off the floor before going to bed. The days of when we had small children will all be one big, beautiful memory, their childhoods already created.
Lately, this has been weighing so heavily on me. Probably because Norah is {most likely} my last baby, I find myself feeling differently this time around. Although it seems like our family is rounded out with two children, I still have that sad feeling that my childbearing years might be over, and this is the last time I'll have an infant in my arms.
This is what one of my favorite authors, Sarah Bessey, calls "The Ache." I can barely get through that entire post, because it touches the pit of my soul. She says,
"It’s simply the Ache of time passing, because this is what time does, and our souls are noticing the passing of a season, and it’s okay. It’s okay to let it Ache. It means we’re living and it means we’re loving our life as it stands, loving it enough to notice a transition away."
Yes, I love this enough to notice that it will be gone. Sigh.
So this time, I don't really care when Norah wakes up in the middle of the night not the least bit sleepy and looks up at me with her big, chubby, jolly smile. This time, I get her out of her bassinet and play with her for awhile and realize that sleep can wait. This time, I don't read tons of books on my Kindle or check my phone while I'm nursing. I mostly just look down at her and try to memorize every detail of a sleepy, milk-drunk, contented baby, and I praise God for the ability to feed and nourish and comfort two girls in this way.
I don't feel weird about taking a million pictures of my children. I look back at all the photos I have of Luci Belle as a toddler and can't believe those toddler years are already gone. I'm thankful beyond words to have so many frozen moments.
My goal as a parent is to give my children "roots and wings" and raise them to be healthy, self-assured women who hopefully love and serve the Lord. Still, one day everything will be quiet here, and I can hardly bear to think of it.
But today, sweet today, I still have two little ones at home. As long and hard as the days can be, and as frustrated and wrung-out and beyond-tired I can become, I cling to the reality that I've been given a chance to be a mother, and I love this calling. I will try to mother them the best I can, hold their childhoods in my hands as the precious commodity they are, and not let others make me feel guilty about seeing these little years as a blessing.
I will put down my fork and leave the dinner table on Thanksgiving to capture a photo of my carefree 3-year-old. And twenty years from now, we'll look back on this image together and remember that she was a child who loved to dance in sunbeams.
Image source: howjoyful.com
When I first heard the quote, "Comparison is the thief of joy," it impacted me so. During my first pregnancy, I wrote about it here, a post which has somehow become the most popular one on this site. I suppose we're all yearning for more joy and realizing how much comparison cripples us.
But no matter how much I know this quote is true, it seems that comparison is still a problem for me, and now in a totally new way - comparing myself to myself.
And that's exactly what I've been doing lately. At age 36, I'm compelled to look back to my 20s, or even who I was five years ago. In so many ways I love who I am now more, but the comparisons to the "past versions of me" keep coming...
Back when I had less wrinkles...
Back when I was skinnier...
Back when I could wear those jeans...
Back when I had the ability and time to work out everyday...
Back when I was able to be more present in others' lives...
Comparing myself to myself rather than to others almost seems more deadly, because it tends to be an internal battle. It doesn't involve another person, so it can be kept secret, just simmering beneath the surface until it explodes. Unfortunately it usually explodes in front of my husband, God bless him.
I see again and again how the comparison saps my joy. I may have been those things once, and I may or may not be those things again. But either way, it does not define my today. My joy should come from where the Lord has me in this moment. So, this is something I'm really working on. If you've struggled with the same thing, I'd love to know your thoughts.
I'm Christine. believer. idealist. writer. artist. treehugger. wife. mama. daughter. sister. friend.
just trying to see the beauty and share with others along the way. {learn more}
"This is your life, this is your real life, and you are living it. Your life is not going to start later. This is it, it is now. It's funny how a person can be so busy that they forget that this is it. This is my life."
~ Lee Smith