Making the Most of Hard Days

Today was one of them days. So much so that I played this song for McCoy while we danced around the kitchen, trying to distract him until bedtime.

We woke up early. Well before he did. By the time I saw his smiling face at 7 a.m., I’d worked out, done my quiet time and washed my hair. And conditioned! As I sipped my coffee and he played with his blocks before breakfast, I thought, YES, it was going to be one of those amazingly productive days. But, alas, it was not.

He took short naps, even though he needed long ones. His teeth were hurting and not even a sunshiney walk did the trick, which is a sign because outside is his favorite place. I had a big list of to-dos for his naps (file our taxes! Ship Letter Project candles! Catch up on emails!), but those things slowly slipped away. At bedtime, I tried to snuggle him, but he actually reached for his crib. If he could, I think he would have asked me to put him down and hand him lambie, please.

One of the things having a baby has taught me is to hold every day loosely. The control I once had was really just perception. Or a different season? Maybe both. These days are never the same and each one holds the potential for going totally as planned, or running completely off course. With that in mind, I decided to make a list of the things that always make me feel like I’m winning at life, even when I have almost nothing to show for it :)

1. A perfect avocado.

2. Recycling. I know, like, everyone should be doing this. But it still makes me feel like a good person when I drop that milk carton in the green bin.

3. When I wake up and hot coffee is waiting for me. God bless Chris Saxon.

4. Cutting all of McCoy’s finger and toe nails. All 20!

5. Getting in bed before 9:30.

6. Zero emails in my inbox.

7. When we actually meal prep. It’s like the fridge fairy filled it up with hummus and pre-cut carrots.

8. McCoy’s freshly shampooed head. Best smell in the world.

9. When McCoy takes a shockingly long nap.

10. Finishing a good book. (Currently: Tell Me More & This Is How It Always Is).

9 Month Baby Products

Baby products, baby products! There are so many. I could buy McCoy new treats every week if I let myself. But for the most part, at nine months, you don’t need a ton. At three months, I felt like I needed so many things to make our lives functional. Now though? He’s happy with sleep, milk and a few toys. It’s such a fun age!

Here are our favorites:

Woolino Sleep Sack // We’ve been using this since we transitioned out of the swaddle at nine weeks. It is, quite possibly, my favorite thing he owns. He loves it! It’s expensive, but if you think about the fact that he will wear it every night until he’s (probably!) two, plus for naps, that’s more than 1,500 wears! We have backup sleep sacks for blow outs, laundry, etc. This one is just the best.

Melissa & Doug Geometric Stacker // A few weeks ago, we were at my sister-in-law’s house. Mac was SO into my niece’s toys. I realized then that he was still playing with baby toys and it was time to get him some nine to 12 monthers. He’s so grown up now, you know? He LOVES this toy. He plays with it every morning and afternoon.

Avanchy Bamboo Plate & Bowl // I love this set! McCoy loves to feed himself, which means he wants to pull the bowls and plates off the table. I love that these suction down! We have the spoons and forks, too. They’re the perfect size and great for when he’s teething, too.

Joss & Main Quincy Swivel Chair // This was a big purchase last month after I sold the original Target rocker we bought. I just didn’t like it. I found this one on sale and fell in love. It is making his room oh-so happy. I love swiveling in it. It’s a more natural motion than rocking for me. I don’t love the look of gliders, so this felt like a great alternative.

Boon Bath Boats // Baby boy loves Boon Boats in the bath (try that tongue twister!). But seriously, he loves the bath and he loves the boats!

Happy Thursday!

A Few Thoughts on Anxiety

In high school, a girl in my grade passed away suddenly in a car accident. We were juniors. She was the first person our small-town grade lost. I think almost every single student attended the heartbreaking service. The funeral made me see, for the first time in my 17 years on Earth, that death wasn’t just for the elderly and the sick. Death could come at any moment, its arms grasping anything within reach.

It was the first time I realized death could make me feel claustrophobic and panicky. The idea that you will never again see someone’s face or hear their voice settled heavy on my chest. It felt like a grey Midwestern day, when there is no cloud break in sight: just grey skies and flat, grey roads and wintery, grey ground all around you. Will it ever lift?

When my mom told me the news that she had passed away, I fell into her arms and wept. I didn’t know her very well, but the reality that someone could be here today and gone tomorrow, without warning, seemed so unfair. She had no time for goodbyes or last wishes or bucket lists. If I’m being honest, this was the loss that taught me to fear death.

I believe in God. I believe in Heaven. I believe it will be better than what we have here on Earth.

But I fear death.

Not my own.

I fear living on Earth without the people I love. I fear not being able to hear their voices every day. I fear never seeing their handwriting again, which is probably a silly thing to say. But sometimes, when people write me messages - little ones - like “I love you” or “don’t forget snacks!” scribbled on a sticky note, I save it, just so I always remember their quick, every-day handwriting. My mom wrote “Welcome home Saxon family of 3!” on a sticky note the day McCoy was born. She left it on our kitchen table and I put it in his baby book. I want to always have that perfect, quick note with her handwriting on it.

In college, my sister told me she hoped she’d die before me. Oh no, I’m going first! I told her. Neither of us were being selfless. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve begged/prayed, telling God I couldn’t live even one day on Earth without one of my siblings or parents. The simple thought of not having one of them in my daily routine makes my chest tighten.

Falling in love and having a baby is the best thing that has happened in my life. Without a doubt, though, it has created higher stakes. It’s more people to love, more people to worry about losing. Sometimes, they go to the grocery store and I pray they come home safely. The grocery store! I check on Mac every night before bed and pray his tiny chest is rising and falling, just like it was when I put him down. This love - so long and wide and deep - can become an all-consuming chasm of fear and worry if I let it.

I know my relationship with worry and death and loss and fear is, simply put, anxiety. I know it is a love so deep, it is manifesting itself in an unhealthy way. I know that gratitude expunges these worries, which is why, when I fall asleep each night, I outline Mac in my mind: his round head and big eyes and little ski slope nose. The way he laughs when I laugh, even though he doesn’t know why something is funny. The way he claps when I clap and is learning to high five. The way he sings da-da-da-da in his crib at night before he falls asleep.

I recall every bit of him, memorizing the here, the now, trying to stay present in gratitude and not be swept away in fear.

I like to wrap life up with a bow. I would love to tell you something sage about death and worry or about the things I’m learning in this season. I’d love to tell you’ve I’ve overcome this entirely, fully releasing my loved ones to the Lord, no longer anxious at all. But that’s not true.

Right now, I’m sometimes overcome with worry. It’s better now than it was when Mac was an itty bitty baby. I barely slept in the beginning, so worried about him in the bassinet. When we moved him to his own room, I got a little stronger. Each time we got a babysitter, I became a little more empowered. When I’d go for a run without him or leave him in childcare at the gym, I slowly and surely got a little braver.

I’m learning now it’s a combination of taking action + practicing gratitude + speaking back to the worry + getting on my knees and praying through it. So I guess the truth is, it’s a bit of all of these things that works for me. It’s not a bow. It’s not a solution. But it’s the truth. It’s a little of this and a little of that.

I’m wading through this first year of motherhood, understanding I’ll never be perfect, but I wasn’t ever aiming for perfection, anyway. I’m striving, instead, for a life of love, gratitude, honesty and wholeness.

It’s not a perfect answer or a solution or the control we sometimes yearn for. But it’s here and now. It’s nine months into McCoy’s life and I have no doubt I’ll continue to learn along the ever-changing, beautiful path we’re on.

See the Beauty Around You

“I really love your baking sheets.”

These were the words my sister told me last fall as we scooped Brussels sprouts onto our plates.

I turned my head to the side as I looked at our old, stained cookie sheet.

“This one?” I asked as I tapped it with my fork.

“Yes. It’s such a nice size and weight.” She continued scooping, not even partially joking.

Being your 30s is funny like that. You notice the thickness of dishes and start to realize how fortunate you were that your parents took you on nice vacations and fed you and your siblings all those years. You notice paint colors and freshly cut grass. Front doors and crown molding. Your eyes are opened to the world of adulting.

The thing, though, is that sometimes we only see the things other people have. Their shiny floral dishes look so fun compared to our all white ones. Or, perhaps, their bright white walls and counters seem so clean compared to our granite and grey. It can be easy to notice the beauty others hold in their hands and, if we’re not careful, tempting to yearn for more.

I smile when I pull cookies out of the oven now. Sometimes I contemplate walking this wobbly baking sheet right over to her house. But, instead, I keep it and use it often. It serves as a token to remember to be grateful for what I have and to see the beauty in the little things around me. It reminds me to yearn less for what others have and, instead, appreciate the old, the new, the shiny, the rusty - and everything in between - that I already possess.

I know now that beauty is not just in the eye of the beholder, but also in the one who chooses to see it. May we all see the beauty, the love and the gratitude all around us today.