Field Trip Lessons

On Monday morning, I worked from home. I held some conference calls, sent out a contract, prepped for a client visit, and basically tried to cram a day's worth of work into a couple hours. And in the afternoon, I was a field trip mom. I picked pumpkins, pet animals, patched up a boo-boo and had an all-around blast with my preschooler. 

If you saw me that day, you'd probably think I was killing it at this working mom thing. And maybe that day I actually was. I mean...look at the pictures...she (and we) had a blast, and for bonus adorable points- she did it in her little red boots. 

But one day, and these pictures, aren't the whole story. It's part of it...and a beautiful part...but not the whole. Every day I'm a working mom, but most days it's not split quite so cleanly- I don't get the morning to be one thing and the afternoon to be the other. I'm both...all the time. And with both, comes overlap, comes pressure, comes stress, comes...mess. 

This working parent thing is messy, and only half of the story is visible at any given time. 

If you see me during a meeting, you might think I've got it all together. I've got a full time job and three little kids. I'm busy! I'm important! I'm doing it all! But if you're on my team, you've also witnessed me stroll in, half-disheveled, apologizing for the cluster that is my morning routine (and the dry-shampoo situation that is my hair). So...yeah. Maybe I'm not doing it all.

If you see me with my kids, you may think I have it all. Three adorable little people, plus a career I'm passionate about. I'm working, and making it work! But if you're around enough, you've also seen me arrive home frantic, apologizing about the day getting away from me. You've witnessed me shushing the kids during a conference call, stepping away from dinner to finish one more email, opting for "movie night" because I can't muster the energy for anything more. So...yeah. Maybe I don't have it all.

I rock presentations....and I hold back tears during airport FaceTime conversations with my kids. 

I say yes to every extra hug at daycare drop off...and I arrive late to my 9:30 meeting (again). 

I surprise my kids with an after school trip to the park...and I catch up on email until the midnight hour. 

I succeed, and fail; I am put together and never enough. 
I work incredibly hard at my job, just as I work incredibly hard at raising my kids. And in the end, I am marvelously imperfect at it all.

If you've witnessed me, a working mom, in either capacity, then you have no doubt already seen me screw up, lose my patience, drop the ball, and at times just appear to be an all-around mess. But I hope that you'll stick around long enough to see the other half of the story: the part where I try my absolute hardest to serve well, to perform well, to love well. 

I'm pretty sure that someday, this little girl will look back on things and know that her mom did not have it all together. She'll remember that I sometimes packed the wrong thing for lunch (though she'll learn that when you have a preschooler, pretty much every lunch item can be deemed "wrong" for a variety of specific and maddening reasons). She'll remember that I wasn't always (ever) the first parent at pickup. 

But I really hope that she'll know about the other side. I hope she'll remember the pumpkin patch days. The boots, the hayrides, and the kisses on skinned up knees. I hope she'll know that I worked, and prayed, and tried, and tried some more to be my best, and show her my best; to model some sort of imperfect path of self-fulfillment, humility and fun. I hope she knows that through it all, I never wanted anything more than to somehow demonstrate to her how immeasurably she is loved. 

On Monday I worked and I mom-ed. And it was a very good day. 

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Fearless Creativity

 Last January (yes...meaning over a year ago; Timeliness isn't exactly my blogging strong suit.) I attended my first annual meeting at my company. Our entire office gathered together for an afternoon, and after some awards, some speeches, and some business highlights, our CEO came up to speak. She shared with us that she had recently done something she deemed terrifying: take trapeze lessons. I guess her sister (and niece) really wanted to try it, and they dragged her along with them. She hates heights so was more than a little reluctant to do it, but in the end she went for it, and had a blast. She was so proud and inspired by the experience of being out of her comfort zone, that she decided to challenge us all to do the same. She (and the rest of our company's leadership) set up a program they called "Fearless Creativity" to encourage us to try something new. Each associate got $100 to spend on anything we wanted...with two caveats: It had to be something that takes you out of your comfort zone, and you had to do it with another company employee.

I was blown away. $100 isn't a ton of money, but multiplied out by every associate, it was a decent investment. But more than that, I loved the idea that they were truly "walking the walk". They didn't just tell us to try something new, or encourage us to build bonds with one another- they set up a system that rewards it. I couldn't wait to figure out what I was going to spend my fearless money on...and I had the extra bonus of a built in partner (one of the many perks of working with my husband!) Dustin and I thought for a bit, and decided we'd take music lessons: banjo for him, mandolin for me.

Fast forward a year later...the annual meeting was coming up, and they put a call out to all associates asking us to share our Fearless Creativity experience. And for some reason...maybe before I could think it all the way through...I volunteered. I submitted a draft of my three minute speech, and they accepted it. Oh...and asked me to play the mandolin. That I hadn't planned on. Committing to speak in front of 350+ people was already another fearless experience for me (I joked that I should get an extra $100 just for talking) but playing (and singing!) downright terrified me. But...I still had my partner (/husband) along for the ride and somehow we decided it would be fun. Or worth it. Or...something...

We had two weeks to prepare, and I pretty much practiced my speech and my performance nonstop (I'm fairly certain I played the mandolin more in those two weeks than I had in the entire year). Dustin's role was to play the cajon (a box drum) so he was far less nervous than I was, but he still served as my cheerleader, encouraging me that I would be great, people would love it, and that I would most likely not pee my pants out of sheer fright. The girls even got into the action: Fin took iphone videos of me practicing, and Piper encouraged me: "I made you a picture. It says I love you, and it means you're the best singer in the world", and "You can do it, Mama. You'll have Daddy with you, so you can do it!"

So with my cheering squad behind me, I convinced myself it really would be fun. Or worth it. Or...something...

Finally, the day arrived:

Not feeling particularly fearless...(understatement 😳) but I believe in trying anyway. So here goes... #fearlesscreativity #mandolindreamin

A photo posted by Courtney Bowden (@bowdenisms) on Jan 28, 2016 at 9:42am PST

Yeah, did I mention it was at the Southern Theatre? Not exactly helping support my "no big deal" outlook...

So with my knees knocking, and my voice shaking...we took the stage.
I couldn't see a THING...it was all bright lights, and then pitch black, so that was a bit unnerving. But I made it through the talk with only a few stumbles (The crowd was pretty forgiving...probably because I referenced Star Wars early on, and included some crazy cat pictures in my slide show. Gotta play to your audience). And then...it was time to play. I couldn't hear myself at all (no sound monitors, just a mic projecting our performance out into the abyss) so that made things a little tough, but beginners can't be choosers- I won't blame the set up. I wasn't aiming for perfection, but if I'm being honest, the song went far worse than any of our rehearsals. At one point I looked at Dustin with my "I want to sink through the stage and die" face. (He gave me his "You're fine, keep going, you got this" face in return). But the entire subject of my talk was about trying things...even if you might fail...so the show went on. I don't remember much from the performance- I do recall people clapping along at least, so that was a good thing- but our plan to keep things short paid off, and it was over before I could melt into a puddle of my own mortification. There was a ton of cheering, which I didn't think was entirely out of pity, and we made our way back to our seats, slightly sweaty (me), thankful it was over (me again) and looking forward to drinks at the after party (both of us).

Overall, I was proud of what I had shared, even if the performance didn't go exactly as well as I would have liked. What I wasn't expecting, was the reaction I got from my coworkers. Part of the reason I was so nervous (besides being entirely unqualified for the task) was because I work at an advertising agency: a place known for being on the cutting-edge of cool. Me and my tiny-stringed hobby don't exactly scream "hip" (or whatever the kids are saying these days). I was scared I'd be terrible, but worse than that, I was scared they'd think I thought I was good. Its one thing to play for my kids in the living room, or even to sing in front of our church...but a front row of NYC-based designers, all wearing flat brimmed hats? Eeek.

But to my (very thankful) surprise, everyone couldn't have been more supportive. Seriously...I don't say this to brag...people were exceedingly, overwhelmingly kind. Yes, part of it was that I was now known as "that girl who played mandolin on stage", so they may have felt like they had to say something when they passed me in the hallways, but mostly, people were truly and sincerely complimentary. So I basked in the attention a little (can you blame me? a little flattery feels nice!) but truly I was touched that so many people seemed to really connect with what I shared. I don't think it was because I was exceptionally good at the mandolin (I'm not), and I don't even know that it was entirely the power of the message I prepared. What I think people really responded to was the vulnerability. They related to wanting to try something, but being scared of failure. They watched a super-regular girl push herself to do something scary because she believed it was worth it, and they saw a piece of themselves. Person after person said that it was so brave, and that they never could have done that. But they also said watching me made them want to try. I heard about dreams people had that they never felt like they could attempt. I heard about bucket-list items they were considering more seriously now. One guy even told me his wife signed them both up for guitar lessons that night.

And that is what I'm proud of.

It's not about what I did; how good I was, or wasn't. It was about having an dream, believing it was worth something, and despite the fear of failure, having the courage to try.

Fearless Creativity from Courtney Bowden on Vimeo.

What's your version of the mandolin dream? And what's stopping you from pursuing it? Go...sing, play, do, try. 

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This is it

I keep composing this post in my head, and every time I think about it, the Huey Lewis lyric "This is It!" starts playing in the background of my mind. The rest of the song really couldn't be less applicable the end of maternity leave...but the title fits, and the vibe is a little more appropriate than the other song that comes to mind: The Final Countdown. (For some reason I also keep thinking of In my Life by the Beatles, and then it devolves into Closing Time, followed by the Vitamin C Graduation Song...so I think it'd be best for me to stop singing and just start writing...)

So...

This is it. 

My last day of maternity leave before I head back to the office on Monday. I've written about the transition back to work before (twice actually)...and so much of that still applies. I'm still weepy about leaving my baby. I'm still nervous about how to put a different me, back in the same work box. But I've figured it out before. We've made it work before. My other babies were ok. We will all be ok again. 

This time I'm not mourning what I'm leaving, or looking with anxiety on what's to come as much as I'm simply looking back with gratefulness on what we've had. I see maternity leave as a gift. Yes, it's an incredibly trying time, full of change and challenges, but above all that it is a gift. It's an extravagant blessing of time, with no expectation other than learning about and falling in love with a brand new baby human. As a mom of three I know how busy things can get, and how fast life can fly by, so for me to have twelve full weeks to dote on and fawn over and marvel at this sweet creation I've been given...well, it just doesn't get better than that.

A few weeks ago, I started panicking that my maternity leave was almost over (I had to fight this feeling multiple times of the last three months) and I worried I didn't have much "to show" for it. This stage goes by so quickly, and can become a repetitive blur of sleepless nights and mundane days. I feared reaching the end of my time off and feeling like I hadn't made it count, hadn't done enough, hadn't savored it properly. I felt sick at the possibility that I had been given a this glorious gift, and had squandered it. When I looked back on this time, what would I remember? What did we do? What did it mean?

So I did what I do when my mind is jumbled and my heart is hurting...I reflected, and I wrote. I wrote down all the things I could think of that we did over this time. And though I didn't come close to capturing the infinite teeny tiny individual moments over the past twelve weeks, I still amassed quite the list. And with every entry into the unofficial log, I felt more at peace. I did have something to show for it all. I have so, SO much. 

Gave baths; Changed diapers; Went to the fair (twice in one week); Ate frozen yogurt; Saw brand new baby lion cubs; Played at the playground (and the other playground, and that other playground...all the playgrounds!); Wiped down the kitchen 1,000 times; Saw a regatta; Folded tiny laundry; Used the elliptical (twice); Fulfilled near constant requests to "Set up the bounce house?!"; Joined a bible study; Rode bikes; Ate, ate, and ate some more; Nursed, nursed, and nursed some more; Took neighborhood walks; Stressed too much about my weight; Made new friends; Went swimming; Snuggled; Went on lunch dates; Met with our life group; Stockpiled milk; Read bedtime stories; Read those same bedtime stories again; Wore out my phone battery; Volunteered at church; Swaddled/Rocked/Repeated; Wrote (for this blog, for baby books, for other sites...); Played with the neighbors; Planned a birthday party; Trick or Treated (x3); Attended MOPS; Changed a million more diapers; Made freezer meals; Celebrated our anniversary; Sewed a quilt; Went to a flea market; Started (the most informal) piano lessons; Settled arguments; Mandated time-outs; Used the rowing machine; Hosted out of town guests; Worked out a budget; Overspent our budget; Finished my pregnancy journal; Made art for the house; Dedicated Miller;  Napped; Watched bootlegged movies; Bought all the Halloween costumes; Decorated two bedrooms; Dressed like pirates; Saw a high school play; Went to a concert; Partied with the worship team; Got out the newborn onesies; Packed away the newborn onesies; Smelled a sweet baby head...over and over again; Kissed boo-boos; Went to a preschool birthday party; Attended a wedding; Rode festival rides, played festival games, ate festival food; Discovered my MBTI (it's ENTJ if you're interested); Rode the carousel 5 consecutive times at our company party; Did I mention changed diapers?; Rode ponies; Enjoyed family dinner night; Watched DVR'ed TV; Drank pumpkin beer; Cleaned out the garage; Saw a super moon; Cleaned out toe fuzzies; Ate ice cream; Took a zillion pictures; Painted nails; Pushed swings; Bought (and returned) things I don't need at Target; Wrote thank you notes; Had a family photoshoot; Sent birth announcements; Got new contact lenses; Set our clocks back; Listened to (half of) an audio book; Square danced; Colored so many pictures; Argued; Made up; Drafted a truly terrible fantasy football team; Survived a cold; Changed some (more) diapers; And about a million, billion other things...

We did the newborn things, the toddler things, the preschool things, the married things, the church things, the holiday things, the family things, the stay-at-home-mom things; the Summer things, the Fall things. We packed a whole lot into those twelve weeks- some of it monumental, but most of it not. There were incredibly fun outings, and deliciously slow days. There were frustrating moments, and exhausting nights. There were things I'd never do again but then they'd always seemed right (Just kidding...I started to slide into a Celine Dion song there...)

And after looking back on it all...I realize This Is It. Not in an it's oveeeeerrrrrrrrr type of way. No. I mean, This: this endless list of tasks and activities and duties and blessings...This is IT. What it's all about. What matters. At times I tend to think that life is measured or evaluated by the big moments, by the sweeping changes by the epic narratives. But really it's this minutia that adds up to a life (this is where the RENT soundtrack starts to play...In daylights, in sunsets, In midnights, in cups of coffee...) Maternity leave is twelve weeks of caring for a miniature human. It might be 90% dealing with bodily fluids, 8% propping your eyelids open and 2% soaking up life changing smiles, but in the end, being a mom to a newborn is entirely regular stuff, that is somehow transformed into something spectacular when looked at as a whole. Each day was just a day, filled with messes and tears, and successes and laughs...but after twelve weeks, those teeny snippets have knit themselves into something bigger; Something I couldn't be more grateful for. And that's what I'll try to remember as I grow weary of the mundane tasks of motherhood, and feel tempted to fast forward through the worst parts of each stage.... This. All of this. Is it. And oh how wonderful it is.

Photo credit: Shutter & Glass Photography

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Much too much

Do you guys have a minute for some really self-indulgent whining?
Well, sure, Courtney, when you frame it up so well like that! Please...go on...

Awesome. Thank you. Because last week was a week, ya know? So I kinda need a moment to vent/process/write so many words about it. It wasn't even that it was a bad week, it was just one of those All-The-Things weeks. You know the ones. Where all of the joys, and trials, and opportunities, and commitments, and things converge within a matter of days and run together, so they don't even seem good or bad anymore, they just feel like: Much. Like much too much. 

I'd invoke the "when it rains, it pours" analogy here, but I'm not quite sure that's quite right. Because last week wasn't exactly a downpour, it was just life; All the regular parts of life, in a constant shower, that didn't seem especially forceful in the moment, but somehow still accumulated to some damage, leaving me sopping, and cold, and well...weathered. 

I knew it was going to be a busy week (I know, I know, we're all busy, and I try not to talk about it, but I got your approval upfront, so on we go...) Easter was around the corner, I'm in my most hectic season at work is, I had a few writing commitments to get to on the side...But lo and behold- knowing about the busy, and executing the busy, are two very different things that come with very different feelings. 

Because day-in-day out I know the roles I have to play: Wife. Mama. Mama to another one. Mama/carrier/life force to one not-yet-fully-formed. Worker bee. Blogger/Social Media maven (jokes!). Friend (that one sort of gets thrown in there as a bonus...you know, in case there's time after the first six-ish things take their place). And I'm good with those roles. They're who I am, and who I've signed up to be, and who I want to be. But...they're also kind of a lot. 

(there's an overly deep metaphor caption in this somehow...Such fancy shells made to look beautiful to the world; and still such fragility and brokenness...No, I'm never like that...)  

And this week, I kept all of those roles, and piled on some additions: Worship team singer, Business trip taker, The Easter bunny's official secret helper, and Church decorator. (Oh. And I got a fierce cold. Because of couuuuuuurse.)

Again...all good things (well, minus that nasty cold), and all things I really want to be and do and say yes to. (and you KNOW how much I like to say yes!) But too much of some very good things, can still be too much. 

I related so much to Joy, describing the hardest part of her current season of life- as "everything": 

"That desire to do so many things, and the desire to keep doing more...It's sort of my personality- the traits that have brought all of these great things are also kind of a curse in disguise, because you can never just rest and celebrate in the things that you've already done"

Yes. This. The solution to many of my problems would be less. Do less, say yes less, care less, be less. But I'm not a less person. I'm a more person. An and person. A more and more, and more is more person. And to go a little Michael Scott on you: my greatest weaknesses? I work too hard. I care too much. And sometimes I can be too invested in my job. (Ok, not really. My greatest weaknesses are much, much worse things, that I don't have the time or vulnerability to list now). But you get it. I'm passionate, I feel big. I'm all in. I can't really turn that off, even when my head and body are warning me that they're about at their limit.

So when someone asks if I'll sing for Good Friday church service? I say yes. And I download all the songs, and I practice in the car on my way to and from everywhere else. And when someone needs to decorate for both Easter weekend services? I say yes. And I pin a million ideas, shop for supplies, and stay up way too late transforming a hula hoop and 29 yards of fabric into a giant hanging canopy. (that turned out pretty sweet, if I can brag for just a second). And when we still haven't figured out how to balance a world of work and two kids? Well...I welcome the idea of a third. Because it doesn't make sense, but oh do I still know it's right. 

But what's my point? Because my goal is certainly not to go on and on about how many things I have in the hopper, and it's definitely not to humble brag about my crazy-full life (that decor shout out was actually out-right bragging...but you have to give me a tiny pass, as I've been out of the retail game for a bit so it's fun to feel like I can still make pretty.) I guess my point is to process this all through writing. And one of the conclusions I've come to, is that most of the time "more is more" works out. It's my natural inclination, so I just pile everything on, hope for the best, and hustle my way through. But inevitably, it does catch up with me...not every time...but last week for sure, and many other weeks before. My hustle wears out, and the pressure to do and be everything I've committed to- everything I want- becomes too much, and I'm reduced to a puddle of  Jesse Spano tears. That's not a new pattern, and it's probably not something I can (or will) change. I'll always be the big-idea girl, who bites off more than I can chew, and drags my loved ones into the mess of my own making. It's not exactly a thrives on chaos problem, but it's definitely a doesn't know another way type of situation. It's occasionally problematic for sure, but it's also just me.

And I guess my other point, is that when the metaphorical rain slows- and the tears cease- I can see more clearly (there's a song in there somewhere, I'm pretty sure...), to realize how lucky I am to play all the roles that I do. Yes, it's a lot to be a mom of 2.5 children, and work, and volunteer, and, and, and... But it's also a whole lot of blessings. I get to be a mom...of two of the most adorable blonde piglets I've ever known. I get to work at a job I love, doing work that inspires me, with people I enjoy- all while knowing my kids are well loved and taken care of while I'm there. I get to serve within caring and passionate teams of people, creating experiences that demonstrate the Gospel in real ways. I get to sing, and make crafts, and hang out with friends, and read at least a couple chapter of book club assignments. I get to do ALL THE THINGS. 

So it is all way way too much. More than I can handle. And more than I deserve. 

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The dance of the worker-bee

How are we adjusting?

After announcing that our lives were about to change in a big way, with Dustin going back to work, people have been so kind to ask how we're doing. How are the kids? How does Dustin like it? How are we managing the routine?

Well....the answer is a mixed bag of: Meh. Awesome. Terrible. Good.
It really just depends on the day, or the minute, or the person in question.

It's all a complicated dance that we're choreographing on the fly- constantly checking to make sure we can keep up with the music, without mashing each other's toes or messing up the turns.
Pack the bags, drop off the kids, drive to work, worky-work, drive back, pick them up, eat...something...anything, have some fun- this is supposed to be fun!, now march upstairs, jammies/potty/teeth/book/bed, sleep (please, just sleep), clean-up-pick-up-put-away, collapse and zone out, big finish: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Again, from the top! This time with enthusiasm!  

Whew.

But really, while it can be a manic dance, it's got a lot of good elements:
Dustin really loves his job. It's challenging, and interesting, and new and fun...all the things an adventure should be. Plus they pay him! Score! But really...it's awesome. It's nice to be working together again. The office is big enough that we don't actually see each other much during the day (we work on different teams for different clients) but it's fun to be able to swing by his desk to steal a Coke Zero, or IM each other with the occasional nonsense throughout the day. The biggest perk though, might be the carpool. It's at least a half hour ride each way, so it's nice to have a buddy to share in the joys of snow and traffic. Truly though, while it's not the most romantic setting, it's still an hour of together time each day. And with two toddlers typically running the show at home, I'll take uninterrupted conversation with my husband anywhere I can get it.

Oh...but then...it's also got its share of terrible turns:
The girls are having a rough time adjusting to daycare. I knew it wouldn't be easy to transition from being home full time (two days with G'mi + Papa, three days with Dustin), to going to daycare three days a week, but I was hoping after a couple weeks they'd get used to the routine. Welllllll. Looks like we're going to need more than a few weeks. Because one month in, there are still nightly tears, with sad pleas of "I don't wanna go to school...I don't like school...I don't like the nap...I wanna stay home with you...Please don't drop me off. I don't want you to go!" We've tried everything to make the transition easier. Some of it seemed to help, but in the end, drop off is still a big dramatic cry-fest, with both girls clutching on to us. I know they have fun, I know they're well cared for, but every time it's the same thing. And the worst is the evenings...sure, we get the best greeting EVER when we pick them up (Both of their faces light up when they see us at the door, Piper grabs Fin's hand and yells "Look Fin, Mommy and Daddy are here!"- which Fin already knows, but Piper is the older sister so of course she has to declare these things- and Fin does her chubby little wobble run into our arms. The whole thing is adorable- at least ten times better than I'm describing.) But that joy lasts about five seconds, until it's crying about putting on coats, or not liking the snack we brought, or (yes, again) not liking school. Then it's a mad dash of an evening where we hurry home (sometimes listening to overtired wailing for the whole eight minute ride), scramble to make dinner, play a little, read a little and wrestle them into jammies in time for the age-old battle of "I don't want to go to bed! I'm not tired! I wanted to read books! I don't like these jammies! I don't want to go to school!"  It's all very dramatic, but super common, and age appropriate, but exhausting, and challenging.

So really, it's normal. We're normal. It's all awesome, and terrible, and I guess just a little bit meh right now. During the tantrums, and the crying, and the unexpected delays, it's pretty bad. It feels like we're a mess. We're screwing up all the steps, everyone is miserable, and it's all just defeating. But then there are so many moments of good: when one sister shares her cinnamon roll to cheer up the other...when bedtime isn't a fight, with just a polite request to "Please stay and rub my back for a minute?"...when work is fun and busy and reminds us why we genuinely like going in there every day. Jazz hands, baby!

We've just hit the one month mark of our new dance routine, which is a lifetime and nothing at the same time. Life with kids is full of this type of contradiction: it truly is the best of times, and the worst of times. Sometimes in the same hour. So we just keep plugging away. I think life with a three-nager will get easier (I mean...she'll eventually turn four). Fin won't skip naps forever (right?), and we'll eventually learn that it really is worth it to spend time packing lunches the night before (but Nettttttfliiiiiiiix....) 

In the meantime, I at least take comfort in the fact that there are about a million other people around the world doing basically the exact same dance, albeit to slightly different music. We're all trying to shimmy through the terrible, and waltz through the good, while smiling big for the audience, and holding our partners tight.
And while I very much wish each night's act would end with us holding hands, taking a satisfied bow, and collecting piles of roses at our feet, I know that most evenings we'll shuffle off stage to ice our tired muscles and wrap our sore ankles in preparation for the morning production. Because the show- good or bad, must go on.

(P.s. Thank you to everyone who has asked how we are. Our struggles are typical, our complaints are mundane, but our joys are real and lovely. And we're so so glad to have good friends dancing alongside us through it all.)

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Show Your Real: Amanda K.

Show Your Real + Real Life Friend is my favorite combination ever. (Except maybe Coke Zero + vanilla ice cream. That pair is rrrrrrrright up there.) Amanda (who I strictly call by her last name, so even typing Amanda is crazy weird for me) is a former coworker of mine who wised up faster than me in terms and fled the wild world of corporate retail a few years back. Our friendship has now outlasted our shared office tenure by at least six years, and is maintained entirely through emails, facebook messages and comments typed one-handed while pacifying our babies. She shares my passion for design, photography, well-researched parenting literature, and was the impetus behind my post-turned-novel about work/life/mama-ing/all the things. She's whip-smart, and a fervent supporter of women, openness, and thankfully: me. I tell her often how thankful I am to to have her (someone like her...but more specifically ACTUAL her) in my network of life, even if our interactions are entirely bound to the virtual realm. I'm blessed to get to share her beautiful heart with you all here.

(And in case you find her irresistible too- you can find more of her images and stories over at Leap Day Studio).

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I hate dusting.

There are 26 picture frames in our living room - each with a noticeable layer of top dust. 

If I were of the hoarding nature, I would grow this collection of snapshots.

Expressions of wonder and surprise, awe and investigation, love and laughter would fill our walls.  The stories of days easily within view - not stashed in computer galleries or tucked away in a yearbook. 

This is the stuff of a successful life. 

I’ve come to realize it’s not all spreadsheets and conference calls.

But alas, I hate dusting.  And the kids can’t climb a ladder to help.

A SEASON OF PEACE

My Real is my home.  It’s a humble place with dented walls from thrown objects, carpet spots from over-zealous snacking, rooms with stories of diy and labor pains, design plans for the future, kid chaos of the present, and memories (both harsh and happy) of the past 9 years.  We plan to stay here until our grey hairs are plentiful and our nest is empty.

My Real is my people.  We are a tribe of four:  a hard-working hubby, a newly minted four-year old girl who is both kind and sassy, and a quick moving one-year old boy who has a giggle to lift the heaviest of hearts, and momma me.  The days of giggles, snuggled story time, tiny socks, colorful toys, and you-are-the-center-of-my-world hugs are numbered.  But for all my sentimental ways…it excites me.  Oh, to see our children grow and emerge as individuals – wide-eyed and ready.  A gift.

These are the best parts of my Real - full of gratitude and appreciation for the awesomeness of the people and place we have been given charge of to love.

A SEASON OF CHALLENGE

I’m having a birthday next month.  Kind of a big one.  My Real is…I’m not where I thought I’d be at this age.  My over-achieving mind has ached for many moons these past years for a career not realized and accomplishments untapped.

I know what you are thinking:  “The world is her oyster!  There are many years of prime creativity, years to reach goals.  Don’t give up!!”  To that I say this:

I thought I would be at a certain level based on what I thought I SHOULD be, versus WHO I truly am.  Your brain is aching, right?  Here’s the scoop:

Before life evolved into a full-time-at-home mom gig, I was a great many things – a

Type A over-achiever with a bit too much worry, a get-it-done hard worker, a sentimental gal with a love of technology, and a wife with a penchant for list making, home improvements, meals from scratch, goal reaching, and alone time. 

I am still all of those things.  But I am a mom, too.  And mommahood changes reality (exponentially, the second time around). And that is OKAY. 

I left a career to start a family.  I left a job to nurture two kids and support my husband’s career - one that takes him on many, many airplanes.  

I was the solid.  I could do this.  Still the ache of SHOULD.  SHOULD DO MORE.

After years of schooling, I believed career accomplishment would by my only way to create a wholly successful life, anything less was a waste of my talents and was just me being lazy.

WHAT?!  Yeah, I know.  Crazy. 

Newborn feedings were spent pep-talking myself and fighting resentment, “You could do it.  So many of your friends do.  You have the ability.  Why not?!  You’d be happier.  You’d be a success.” 
The “why not?” had me digging deep for months, because it just didn’t feel right for me to jump back on the career path.

And one day, there it was:  because I’m me and not them. 

After I truly accepted that realization, I said good-bye to a few things - perhaps for always.

Like a career. 

A painful blow.  A large lesson in being selfless and sacrifice for the people I love, including myself.  It was a complete shift in how I was defining success.  Maybe being happy and knowing your sweet spot was success in itself. 

I stopped trying to shove myself into a place I didn’t fit any longer.  After a sit-down chit-chat with my hubby (to share the epiphany I should have had many tearful months prior) I bought a new camera to celebrate.

So here I am.  Almost a year later.  Mom life is hard.  I don’t really love it.  I still have resentment on especially difficult days.  Just like thousands of women who go to work each day just to put food on the table but don’t love what they do.  They still do it. 

They show up and they do their work.  

Because they love their people – so, so much.

My current work is kids.  The messes, the milestones, the worries, the crafts, the baths and all of it.  Without the ache of SHOULD, my mind is open to COULD.

And that silly story about the 26 picture frames?  And the celebratory camera? 

The possibilities are endless.  

Photo Credits Karissa Diagostino

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Show Your Real is a series of guest posts centered around the concept of authenticity. The goal is to encourage each other to expose the reality of our lives- good and bad- and to foster a sense of community that goes beyond the often surface-y interactions of social media. We invite all of you to participate! Please comment, link, and hashtag to spread the showyourreal love. If you would like to contribute a guest post in this series, please email me (cjsbowden at gmail dot com).

Show Your Real: Shannon

Patience is a virtue. A virtue I wasn't blessed with, and one I don't seem to be picking up quickly. (wait..I'm impatient to be patient?) But I'm learning. So when I asked Shannon to guest post for Show Your Real ummmm a year ago...I tried to be all zen when she didn't respond to my email. Or my next email. We've partnered a few times before, and always keep up with each other on Instagram (check out her adorable little men! If I believed in arranged marriages, I'd be submitting some applications on behalf of the Bowden ladies...) so I knew that if the timing wasn't right right now, that we'd work it out someday.

And you're in luck...because that day is today! It may have taken us a year or so to get together on this, but oh man is it worth the wait. (and that comes from someone who doesn't think much of anything is worth waiting for). I love what Shannon has to share today, so much so that I decided to post it the day after she sent it over...a week ahead of schedule. It's short, it's honest, it's beautiful.

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Hi, I am Shannon, wife to Mark, momma to Behr (3.5) and Hudson (15 months) and you can find us over on The Scribble Pad. A year ago I transitioned into a dream role and this past Spring I sobbed to the women in my church's moms group about how nothing is how I imagined it would be. Here is a snippet of the story.

If you know the secret to family pictures, please enlighten me!

When Courtney first asked me to participate in Show Your Real (over a year ago!) shortly after my second son was born, I immediately thought, I am not ready, I need to get my act together! And then promptly ignored her email for well, about 12 months.

Are you kidding me? That is the exact reason we write these posts and share these stories. Courtney and I, you and your neighbor and the mom across from you at the park? We are moms on the pendulum swing of work-dinner-kids-husband-dishes-cooking-laundry-kids-lunch-did-we-feed-them-breakfast-work-kids-wait-did-I-forget-about-my-husband?  Life is constantly in motion, the things that are in motion with us might not always look the same, but the motion continues. It doesn't necessarily get easier, just different.

After two and a half years of working outside the home, I transitioned to a totally different role, running an intern housing building, after my second son was born. I am now a work from home mom. Silly me, I thought working from home would mean more time, as if I would magically get extra hours in the day. Without even knowing it, I was looking for easy. Let me tell you, I did not get easy. I relearn this lesson every day. Every day, I am reminding myself there is not an easy out, no easy button. Darn you, Staples commercials.

Instead I got a 20-30 hour a week job with not nearly that much babysitting in my budget. I work with Hudson on my lap jamming his fingers into my calculator. I work with Behr standing on the chair behind me, hanging around my shoulders. I spill whatever I am drinking on everything and my beautiful modern dining table turned desk from ikea is covered in stickers. I work while my kids watch TV, sometimes on beautifully sunny days when we should all be outside, sometimes for so long they fall asleep and then fall off the couch with a thud.

I'm sure I just finished telling them not to poke each other anymore.

There are days we race matchbox cars, I even duct taped a track on my carpet once. We build block towers to knock over and lego towers taller than our heads. We walk to museums in DC, pick up our farm share, and play at splash parks. But for every exciting adventure I share on instagram, there is just as much behind the scenes work going on. But do you really want to see my computer every day?

Motherhood is not about looking for the easy, it is about walking through the difficult and knowing that Christ has called you to this life, and his calling means he has enabled you. Read that again. Christ's calling in your life means he has enabled you. Do you understand what that means? I don't. Well, at least I forget it often. I throw up my hands in exasperation, feeling defeat instead of the gentle tug of growth.

I want to feel the tug of growth and stop letting my own self-wallowing get in the way. Maybe someday I will get there. For now, pass me some legos. I have a tower to build.

To be honest, this is not at all what I was going to write about...but this is what has been on my heart as I think about our week, which already feels impossibly long. I am not sure what is on your heart today, but I hope you are able to be encouraged. I really hope to meet you over social media. Please stop by and say hello!

Blog
Instagram
Twitter
Facebook

Can you resist those smiles? I sure can't.

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Show Your Real is a series of guest posts centered around the concept of authenticity. The goal is to encourage each other to expose the reality of our lives- good and bad- and to foster a sense of community that goes beyond the often suface-cy interactions of social media. We invite all of you to participate! Please comment, link, and hashtag to spread the showyourreal love. If you would like to contribute a guest post in this series, please email me (cjsbowden at gmail dot com).

Show Your Real: New Job Edition

Happy Monday!

(This was as much of a view as I could snap without looking like a tourist 

in my own cube. As you'll see...I have a rep to maintain. Play it cool...)

Highlights from my first week: 

• Falling up the central staircase in view of the café and reception area (maybe only 4 people saw, but I’m sure that was the first of many literal missteps in my future.)
• Spilling mayonnaise on my blouse two hours in to my first day (yes, blouse. I went all out for my “introductory outfit”). 
• Bringing empty soda cans and vitamin water bottles with me on my way out, planning on throwing them in a recycle bin before the door. There wasn’t one. So I had to stuff it all in my bag like a eco-conscious magpie.
• Forgetting where I put my lunch leftovers, causing me to have to search the 'fridge on each floor. Maybe multiple times. 
• Attempting to return to my desk after lunch, not realizing I was on the wrong floor. I chose to stop at the restroom just to make it look like I had a purpose in walking down a random hallway. 
• Giving the window washer a show when using the mother’s room. (windows: nice bonus normally, but maybe not so practical in the “lactation lounge”).

(Meanwhile, Dustin was on PTO for the week, and was doing a bangup job watching the kiddos.)

Soooo...other than that? 

It’s actually going awesome. I work with incredibly smart, incredibly nice people, in an incredibly cool environment, on incredibly inspiring projects. (Or I will. Once I finish some training and they actually risk allowing me to do some work. Assuming my stained clothes, and propensity for accidental flashings haven't scared them off...)

People around here tend to use the phrase "super pumped" a lot, and I'm beginning to understand why....

Not too shabby, eh?

(P.s. As always, Dustin has been beyond supportive as I’ve gotten settled. He’s still the best dad I’ve ever seen, COSI/diaper incidents non-withstanding).

Should we stay or should we go now?

It's been awfully quiet around these parts recently. I don't suspect anyone has been loitering around begging for updates, but when I don't write much, my brain starts to get crowded. I haven't avoided posting because I lacked things to say. I've actually haven't written because I had too many things to share. Things that weren't ready to be shared.

But now, the cat is out of the bag, and some of the biggest news in our recent lives is out in the open.

Yep. We're moving.

After seven years in Pittsburgh, it's time to pack up, and head west, for the sunny skies of Columbus. I got a new job, we sold our house, we bought another house…Basically everything we've known has been flipped upside down in a matter of weeks. There is still a tremendous amount of logistics to work out (most pressing: Dustin's job, and childcare for the girls) but God has been paving the way for this move in a way that we can't ignore, so we're trusting that He's not down working out the details for us. It's been an absolutely crazy ride to see how fast life can transform, and as sad as we are to leave this place, we're also thrilled for the next adventure. We've got a little less than two more weeks here, so we're packing in the fun (you know, when we're not literally packing our stuff) and trying to wrap our brains around the monumental changes that are about to take place. Things are on warp speed, but I'm trying as much as I can to soak up every last bit of this sweet season. It's all a bit of a frantic blur as we try to sort and connect the pieces of this life-puzzle, so I won't share the nitty gritty details for now, but know that we are beyond thankful for the experiences we've had and the friends we've made in Pittsburgh.

I'm sure there will be plenty of nostalgia and sweet, sappy musings to come, but for now I thought it would be cool to share a snippet from the process that I jotted down along the way.

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Originally written 2/11/14:

It's happening.

That thing that happens every couple years. Where Dustin I decided maybe, just maybe, it's time to uproot everything and head for the hills. Except not really hills. More like the flatlands of Columbus.

We've been here before, a couple times probably, some times more serious than others. It's always been the eventual goal to move to Columbus I suppose, but that itch has struck again, and we find ourselves seriously exploring the possibility of making a move sooner than later. Sooner like real soon. I'm looking into a job with a retail company there and while I'm at it I'm trying to check out a couple of marketing agencies as well. After a few phone calls and email chains, it's escalated to the point that I actually have an all day in person interview next week. It's far from a done deal, so I don't want to count my chickens before they hatch, but at the same time I feel that I have to process the possibilities now, in order to be prepared when and if a job comes to fruition.

So I can't take it for granted that I'm going to get this job, and further, that I would want to accept this job if so. But I almost have to pretend like that's happening, just in case it does. So I'm trying not to waste any time dwelling on the fear, the worry and the negative, because it's all too soon for any of that to matter. But I am trying to weigh the pros and cons, and allow myself to sit with a very real possibility that our time in Pittsburgh could be coming to a close. When we moved here I signed a two-year contract. I definitely thought we would stay longer than that, but it was at least a minimum. A starting point. That milestone came and went though and Dustin and I kept renewing our original "five-year plan" (the length of time I figured we would be in Pittsburgh before thinking about starting a family and moving back home.) But somehow that plan kept getting extended, and now this Summer will mark seven years (and two babies) in the Steel City. 

So when we moved here, I knew I was committing to this town, at least for a while, but I didn't know that I would fall in love. Sure, there are things about Pittsburgh that I can confidently say are The Worst. I don't love having a bridge and/or (mostly and) tunnel between me and anything I want to get to. I don't love that fact that the gray days outnumber the sunny ones. But if I was truly going to hate on Pittsburgh, I would have to get kind of picky. It really is an awesome place. We've met some of the best friends of our lives here, and after seven years, I can confidently say that it is home.

And then there's my job. There have been ups and downs; days where I had to pinch myself to believe that this dream job wasn't all truly just a dream. And then there've been days when I've been overwhelmed, frustrated, and dejected. But again, after seven years, this company is as much my home as this city is. It's all I've known here, and further- all I've really known in the working world. I had five internships before I graduated, in three different cities. I got to try out big city living, small-town living, and squatting in my parents basement. I got to test the waters of design, production, kids clothes, uniforms.... But as far as real-deal, big-girl grown-up job? This is it. This is where I learned pretty much everything. It's now my benchmark by which all other opportunities are measured. 

So I now have one foot in both worlds. For as much as I'm prepping mentally to leave, life keeps on going here as if were staying forever. Nothing is a sure thing, so I have to lay the groundwork for what possibilities could be, and at the same time keep our reality in motion. So that means on Wednesday afternoon I have a phone interview with the new company, and Thursday morning I have to remember to call to make future appointments for Piper. It means that I spend evenings working on my resume, and Saturday mornings checking out dance classes for my toddler. We have an exit strategy, and a museum membership. We could be here three more years, or three more weeks. And what all that adds up to, is a serious lack of sleep on my end. (Like I needed that!) I find myself laying awake at night, running over all the possibilities in my mind. Asking myself question after question, to try to make sense of the enormous change that could be coming our way. I can make a list from here that would stretch from here to Ohio, with reasons I want to stay put. I really do love it here. The people alone could convince me to be a Yinzer for life. But then it's not hard to come up with a list equally long of reasons we should go. More specifically- why we should go now. And at the top of that list are two little girls who would benefit greatly from the supportive network of family. Okay, if we're being honest, at the top of that list is one little girl: me, who would benefit greatly from the supportive network of family. No one wants to live with regrets, and I would hate to feel that we left a good thing, or bailed to soon. But at the same time, these years with little ones are fleeting, and the opportunity to spend them alongside family is maybe too great to resist.

So for now, I'll probably keep saying up too late looking at real estate in the suburbs, and checking out LinkedIn for new possibilities, but also keep my nose to the grindstone and stay invested in my current world.

And if after next Tuesday, we do have the option to trade it all in for Part Two of our dream life, then will have a big decision to make. The only thing I know for sure is that God is preparing our path, the same way he has for the last seven years. I just can't wait to see where it leads next.