Rowan turned 3 at the end of May and just this week we got her potty trained.  The potty has been an issue for a LONG time.  Rowan’s main coping mechanism for, oh, her ENTIRE LIFE has been to hold her poop.  We have had tons of poop issues in the past and needed to work through that and get her regular before we could even think about potty training.  (She could go almost a week without pooping.  True story.)

So.  We finally got things going because for awhile she would scream like a banshee if we even mentioned the potty or came close to her with panties.  Some parents might could have muscled through it.  I’m not one of those parents.  Trauma shouldn’t be necessary to get a toddler to sit on the toilet.  Not in my book at least.  She won’t go to college in diapers.  NBD.

Last weekend the show, ‘the potty show’ that is, got started.  First day was amazing.  Days 2-4 had me and Rowan in tears. There was wailing and gnashing of teeth.  And that was me.  We didn’t leave the house, Brad was in NYC for 3 days and I basically walked around with clorox in one hand and candy in another hoping to be ready at any moment to dole out a prize or clean a gallon of tee-tee off my floor.

We had a brand new Merida (Disney princess) doll in a box sitting out that she could have if she wanted to go.  We had candy and dollar store toys.  A little potty and a big potty.  Princess panties, Minnie Mouse panties and ballerina panties.  We were set.  Except for the whole ‘willing toddler’ part.

Finally in an state of sheer exhaustion I ask Rowan, ‘WHY don’t you want to use the potty?  Just tell mommy.  It’s ok, just help me to understand!’

Her response?  *sigh* ‘I just don’t fink dat big girl panties are berry comfortable, mommy.’

Ha!  Can’t argue with that!

To make a long story a little longer, Brad got home and we were able to break through together.  Praise the Lord!  So we’ve had no accidents and whatnot since then.  Yayy!!!

She had not however, pooped in the potty yet.  Remember the beginning?  It’s been a THING around here, this poop issue.

Fast forward to last night, I’m at a friends house and Brad calls.  I answer and it’s Rowan.  She says, ‘Mommy!  I poo pooed in DA POTTY!  I witerawy (literally) pushed my poo poo out!  I witerawy did it, mommy!’

Oh man.  Talk about a proud mom moment.  Most moms have kids that are academically advanced and whatnot and they are so proud.  Rightly so, I say.  But man.  When your 3 year old who is deathly afraid of both the potty AND her poop tells you she ‘WITERAWY PUSHED HER POO POO OUT’ You scream girly screams and maybe even tear up a little bit.

We are witerawy potty trained around here.

In other news, my book on how to potty train should be out sometime next year.

Dear Rowie bug,

So this is what three years old looks like?  Wow.  I had no idea, you know…what exactly 3 looked like and smelled like and acted like.  It looks a whole lot like 2 years and 364 days but then it looks completely different, too.

We all know you are super smart and advanced for your age, but whatev.  No bragging here, just stating the facts, baby.  Your kind spirit makes sure everyone has tea at our tea parties and asks if anyone else wants cookies.  (I’m pretty sure that’s because you really want another cookie but we’ll let that one slide.  You are three now, after all.)

You teach me to love in a new way.  You are a daddy’s girl through and through but you have a special place for me too.  I actually think we are a lot alike.  You won’t do something until you are READY TO DO SOMETHING.  But once you make up your mind you are good to go.  Yep.  You’re welcome for that one.  Another winning character trait I left you is your love for schedule.  Yea….sorry about that.  Your mama loves her a schedule.  You like to know when we are doing something, how long we will be there, who will be there and what we are going to eat.  Just like me.

You are funny like your daddy and LOVE to make a joke.  Just like Daddy.  I never knew that (newly) three year olds could be so silly!  One of my favorite things is how you think that your own jokes are the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.  You get that from mommy and daddy.  We think we are pretty dern funny around here.  The Silly Sinclairs is our name; promoting healthy self-esteem is our game.

You also LOVE to sing….just like daddy.  You are always asking for a microphone and love to get on the stage with Mr. Joel after church and ‘perform’.  I love that you are so brave!  Just like Daddy!

Right now your favorite things are: playing outside, sprinklers, Merida, playing games on my phone, Tinker-bell, granola bars and Gatorade, ‘working out’ with mommy and watching the movie Brave on the couch with a snack at least twice a day.  You still take a 2-hour nap in the afternoon.  Now that the sun is out so late you are in bed around 8:45 and sleep ‘till about 9am the next morning!  We love having the one-on-one time with you after Darby goes to bed!

You love your grandparents and boy, do they love you!  You are so special to them!  You are the eighth grandchild on Daddy’s side and the first on mommy’s side.

You are starting preschool in the fall.  After being at home with mommy this whole time I’m having a hard time with it.  Not sure what I’ll do without you here each morning!  No matter what this year of three brings us, know that we love you and want what is best for you. We are always here for you, baby girl.

Always,
M&D

Brad,

I think I’ve wanted to write this for a long time and just haven’t felt like I could sustain the emotion that it would take for me to get it all out.  There is more that’s not blog friendly, but you already knew that so here I go with a few deep breaths and a prayer and a song.

I still remember like it was yesterday how I felt when we left our wedding reception at the country club.  I was elated but scared to death.  We had saved ourselves for one another through the goodness and protection of the Lord.  Suffice it to say I had no idea what to expect but I knew I wanted you with every fiber of my being.  We were done with the waiting and the praying and the asking and the getting-to know-yous.  It was time to actually get to know each other.  Sure didn’t look like the movies but I praise the our Father above that we waited.  It was one of the most special things in my life.  I think yours too.  He’s so good to tell us why we should save ourselves for each other and then actually deliver on how sweet it is to be with one man and one woman.

The first night at our new home after the honeymoon I cried because I missed my parents!  So funny to think about now especially since I’d lived away for 4 years.  I guess it took some time to get used to it being just you and me.

After that first night though, I didn’t want it any other way. I liked just you and me even if we had a constant battle over one degree the thermostat.  Hilarious to remember how we’d get so ‘mad’ at each other.

First year was a breeze and then the second one came along.  For as easy as the first year was, the second saw and raised the first year in it’s difficulty.  But we made it.  Our second year held extreme job changes for both of us.  It also meant that we needed to redefine who we were since we stepped out of vocational ministry and into the business world.

Each time I would forget who I was, you would remind me.  And I would repay the favor.  We learned to not listen to ourselves but to listen to each other.  We spoke truth to one another even when it was hard truth and many times it was our minds that were our enemy.  Not each other.  Once we got that figured out it was much easier sailing.

We got pregnant with Rowan on our third anniversary.  Those nine months were relatively easy aside from ‘what shade of pink do we decorate with?‘ and ‘how do we put together a pack-n-play?‘  Rowan’s delivery was nightmarish.  I would say just for me but you are such a rock that it might have been harder on you knowing you couldn’t help me.  You always do that.  Help me.  Save me.  Love me.

Rowan was sort of a dream baby and once I got my crazy just-had-a-baby hormones worked out we were good to go.  Almost two years later we found ourselves starring at a pee stick wondering what we’d gotten ourselves into…again.  The next nine months were probably the longest of my life.  But there you were….helping, saving, loving.

When I did’t have the strength to push the black clouds away, you stood next to me and helped me up so I could walk.  With Darby’s delivery came almost a new lease on life. We felt fresh and free and right.  The way it should feel.  As a family of four we’ve navigated and bobbed and weaved with the best of them.  Some steps are muscle memory and others we fake it till we can make it.

Both are good.

Your name is like home to me.  When I say it, I know that you hear me.  You really hear ME.  When you look at me, you see ME.  And because you do that, I’m able to look at myself in the mirror and see ME.  You give me the courage to do that.  I can never repay you for that priceless gift.

You are Christ to me.  Helping.  Saving.  Loving.  You meet me where I’m at.  Good, bad, really good, really bad.  Isn’t that what being Christ to people is anyway?  Meeting them where they are at?  You lead and you start with me.

You are a husband and a dad. But really you are my best friend and the girls’ hero.  Your cape is your blue jeans and your mask, glasses.

Please keep on helping and saving and loving and listening and playing and laughing and just really being yourself.  I love who you were, who you are today and who you will be tomorrow.

Step by step, hand in hand, we can make it.  Together.

Love,

LB

My dad is infamous for asking, ‘Are…you…happy?’

Sounds trite but I know what he means.  I’ve been on the receiving end of this question enough times to know that what he’s really doing is a heartbeat check.

‘How’s your heart?’

‘How’s your spirit?’

‘Are you peaceful?’

‘Are there changes that need to take place to get you to a better place?’

‘If so, what can I do to help because you know I’ll do anything for you.’

AKA: ‘Are you happy?’

I feel as though I’m on a journey, an arduous one at times, but a journey nonetheless.  On this journey I have learned that happy cannot be measured moment to moment.  There is no scale.  No standardization to happy.  Certain circumstances in my life might make you very unhappy.  And vice versa.  No wrong in that.

When I try to stop and ask myself, ‘Am I happy?’ it can, at times, be a futile thought.  Today as I’m typing this I put both girls to bed early because they couldn’t handle themselves.  It’s been a good morning but a trying morning with lots of discipline and diaper changing.  Now I sit here after a hot shower to wash off my work-out ickiness with a warm cup of coffee in a new mug Brad bought me.

If today was judged minute by minute, I would have told you I wasn’t happy this morning.  But as I think back on the day, and at 2pm…I am actually happy.  Time passes too slowly for us to fully grasp the gravity of a ticking clock.  With each tick, we are losing ourselves, quite literally, to this world.

Since we are losing seconds off our life with each passing tick, we cannot and we must not slip past the question at hand….

Are…you…happy?

You have one life and I have one life.  We must be so careful to use our minutes like dollars in a bank account.  Budgeted.  Calculated.  Accounted for.  With some room for spontaneity.

Spend your money wisely but please, spend your time wisely.  It is your most precious asset.  Ask your spouse, kids, family, friends…they will tell you.

Today I sign off from this post as a girl who is tired, a teensy bit stressed and doesn’t have lick of make-up on, but man am I happy.  And oh, how I wish the same for you, friend.

Brad and I will be married for 7 years in September.  At our wedding my hair was very long, almost mid-back if I remember correctly.  About 6 months into our marriage I decided to cut it off into an angled bob.  Brad called it my ‘Christian women’s speaker hair’ and it probably aged me about 10 years.  Needless to say, I let it grow after that first hair cut.

And it grew and grew and grew.  For the last 6 years it’s been some version of long, longer and longest.  No bangs, bangs, side bangs, bangs….etc.  And repeat.

Oddly enough, recently Brad has been saying he thought it was time for a change.  He liked the long but it was almost to my low back.  In my personal opinion, once your hair gets long enough that you could potential sit on it, it’s time for a cut.

I loved the long hair (and still do) however with two babies, it ended up in a pony tail or not-done 5 out 7 days of the week.  I was in a rut.

Another part of this hair cut extravaganza is that I’m turing 30 this year.  Of course 30 isn’t too old to have long hair, I personally love long gray hair.  For me, 30 is about becoming a better version of myself.  Being brave and making choices that are the best for my actual life and not some picture of what I think my life should be.

Spending 30-40 minutes a day washing, drying and straightening hair is not the best use of my time right now.  One day, it might be.  But those 40 minutes are precious time I could spend with my girls or I could even do something crazy like read a book.  By myself.  I KNOW.  CRAZY…

So I chopped it.  Almost 2 feet of hair.  Gone.  And I’m really happy.  Was it a shock?  Absolutely.  In fact, I went on a Monday night and couldn’t do it all at once, so we took it up to the shoulders and then I went back a couple of days later to go all the way.

It takes me 4 minutes and 30 seconds to dry it.  I timed it.

Quite the change for me.  I can shower, dry my hair, do makeup and get dressed in under 25 minutes.  As long as I don’t change clothes 50 times.

So.  Now that the shock has subsided….What have I learned?

I hid behind my hair for a long time.  Bangs and long curtain like hair allows you to do that.

I thought it was glamorous.  And it might have been a little but right now I need easy more than glamor.  And what’s glamorous about not washing it often and living in a pony tail with bobby pins keeping your bangs out of your face?  Not too much.  Let’s be honest.

I feel lighter.  Physically and figuratively.  I feel like when I look i the mirror now, I see me.  Not miles of hair.  And my neck?  Yea, haven’t seen that in about 6 years.  Or my forehead for that matter!

Brad LOVES it.  LOVES it.  He likes that he can see my face now.  And I like that he likes to see my face.  Win/Win.

It’s ok to be in a season of life when long hair is unreasonable.  Really, it is.

Short hair can have lots of personality, spunk and interest.  Hello, pomade!

Long hair for the sake of long hair is kinda silly when you think about it.  Don’t be afraid to have hair that fits your lifestyle.  Do you have a long commute in the morning?  Why spend so much time doing your hair when that’s another 20 minutes you could be sleeping?  Or reading?  Or playing with your babies?

Hair shouldn’t own you.  Bottom line.  If you don’t know ‘who you are’ without your hair, it’s time to learn.  Doesn’t have to be drastic, but ask yourself why you are so attached to something like….hair?  Sounds weird when you say it like that, right?

I probably won’t keep it like this forever, but it’s great for the summer.  Ever had that summer moment when you are sweating drying your hair (for the 2nd time that day bc you go too hot earlier) then you walk outside and the humidity makes it frizz and then it ends up in a pony anyway?  Hate that.

And not to mention, I’m the dry shampoo queen, but when you work out everyday, you HAVE TO SHOWER.  You just do.  Well, I just do.  Maybe I sweat more that the average bear but there’s no amount of dry shampoo that can help this sweaty head.

One thing I did not expect:  I feel ‘seen’.  Like people look at me more.  I’m sure it’s just in my head but I feel less hidden so I think it feels like everyone can see me better.  Again, staring at my 30th birthday I’m trying to be brave.  And for me, that was an important thing I needed to conquer.

So do I think you should cut your hair?  Haha…probably not.  But I do think that you are more than your hair….or your clothes…or your car.  And anything that hides your natural beauty should be evaluated for it’s necessity.

Haven’t logged on in a while because honestly, I just haven’t had much to say.  I do my best to not shoot from the hip and also to not make up text for the sake of text.  My toddler can do that.  I owe you more than that.  I owe myself more than that.

Lately I’ve been hanging on this verse:

‘No longer will violence be heard in your land, nor ruin or destruction within your borders, but you will call your walls salvation and your gates praise.’ Psalm 60:18

I love that it starts with ‘No longer…’ because, hello, we’ve all walked though a land of ruin or destruction in the past.  If you are like me, it’s due to my own craziness.

I see it as a blessing that my land will no longer see ruin or destruction.  No violence will be heard.  And although that would be enough–the removal of the problems– Our good Father goes on to call our walls ‘salvation’ and our ‘gates’ praise.

I get chocked up thinking about it.  Honestly.  He’s so good to care for us and to bring us  salvation but also restoration!

This week, if you feel that anxiety building up as you enter into a job you hate or even a job you love, a week full of caring for your family or a week of serving others, keep that anxiety at bay by whispering(or yelling!) two simple words:

no longer! No Longer! NO LONGER!

All because YOU WILL call your walls salvation and your gates praise!

(Photo cred)

Had a revelation working out the other day.  Which is not normal because I’m trying to breathe and, you know, not die.  So revelations are not the norm.  Nevertheless, one came.

I’ve been doing these workouts on youtube.  Different ones each day and it has really helped keep me interested.  Haven’t I told you about my love for shiny things?  This extends to being distracted during a workout as well.  I need change and interest and I wonder where her cutie sports bra and work-out pants are from….

You understand.

So this particular workout was a two-part session.  I wanted to quit half-way because I could.  And I was tired.  And no one would know.  And did it really matter?

So I’m laying there after finishing some ab-work (surprisingly not because I passed out) but before the second half and my mind is telling me to quit.  Oh, and I wanted to listen.  SO BAD I wanted to listen.  And then came the revelation.

It was a small voice, ‘You are a finisher.  Finish what you start.’

‘Excuse me?  I’m actually not a great finisher, thankyouverymuch.’

That was about the extent of my cognitive abilities as I lay on my mat teetering on the edge of a sweat induced coma.

But I kept hearing that statement and before I knew it I’m up off the floor doing my best Rocky impersonation.  More the boxing in the air part and not so much the bleeding profusely part.

I told myself, “I AM A FINISHER!  I FINISH WHAT I START’

Talked to myself a little more and finished my work-out.  I have realized that I also can’t start videos or workouts with the intent to not finish.  Is it wrong?  Nope.  But is it good practice for everyday life?  Sure isn’t.

If I am tired then I choose a shorter video.  Not a longer one and then give myself permission to quit.  I don’t want to get into that practice.

This is not an issue of grace.  This is about FINISHING WHAT I START.

Because I am a FINISHER.  I FINISH what I START.  And you should too.  Because it’s important.  Whether is it a goal, a project, working on patience or something as menial as working out.  It will help both of us gain confidence in ourselves and build trust in ourselves.

Don’t hesitate to give yourself a pep talk today.  We all need to talk ourselves off the cliff every once and a while.

Now.  Take a step back.  Throw those fists up in the air and Rocky your way away from the cliff….remember:  You are a FINISHER!

This was Rowie from 2012…

And this was her this year…..

It’s a good thing we are already saving for college because I’m pretty sure she’ll be there in just a few years.  

So much changes in a year.

2014, I’ve got my eyes on you!

It’s 2:23am and the Lord has me awake with a heavy responsibility of this message.  I’ve been writing and speaking long enough to know that if he has you awake in the middle of the night with a word, you best get out the laptop and do something about it.

I’m overcome by this phenomenon in many young mothers, myself included, that consists of thankfulness through guilt.  That idea that every.single.minute. of every.single.day. requires complete and facedown down thankfulness.

Glennon wrote about it best so there’s no need for me to write more about that.

I’m pretty sure it’s Ann’s job to bring tears to my eyes with every stroke of her pen.

My concern, and a habit that I’ve recently seen in my own life is gratitude out of fear.  Silly pins on Pinterest like the one below do nothing to help this fear….

It is beyond impossible to think that this is even humanly possible.  Much less achieveable each day.  These quotes are the type of twisted ‘theology’ that if we are not careful, end up filling our minds and hearts.  Just because it sounds neat and sort of like a Bible verse doesn’t mean it’s truth.  Search the Word for that.  Not Pinterest.

If Christ is the source of all good things (& He is) and we are only thankful because of his sacrifice (True, also) and if perfect love casts out all fear (See John about that one) then gratitude comes out of love.  Not fear.

I find myself feeling that somehow God is this ‘thank you note’ nazi where if you haven’t thanked him for something that he takes it away.

Ann writes, ‘Gratitude ushers us into the presence of God which is why He teaches to be thankful in everything.’

True gratitude for life does not come out of fear of something being taken away unless you say the magic words and rub the lamp three times.

No, no, no.  It’s much bigger than that.  THAT would be easy.  Anyone can rub a lamp and say an enchantment.

The gratitude I’m taking about is this knees bowed, hands raised I’ve-got-nothing-left gratitude.  It’s an emptying motion not a clinging motion.

It’s a motion that says you know what perfect love is (Christ) and your thankfulness is merely an extension of that.

Gratitude out of fear is simply a thank you note that must be written before you’re allowed to play with your new toy.  In the end, what good does that empty act accomplish?  Those games (thankfully) don’t work with God.

It’s a robotic motion vs. a free spirit motion

It’s hands gripped tightly around a pen vs. allowing yourself grace to write as you go

It’s love as a play in the theatre vs. love acted out on the streets

It’s gratitude from your heart because you are so full of thanks you have nothing else to do with all of that emotion inside of you.  So you bow and you pray and you lift open hands that you so desperately want to claw shut.

Not because you have to, but because you have the enormous opportunity to allow gratitude to change you.

Oh, and it will , my friend.  It most definitely will.

Not out of fear, but out of love,

LB