Making it up as we go

G and I were riding home from my parents house the other day, radio off, just talking. The trip takes the better part of an hour, so we usually manage to cover a variety of topics. Somehow, we meandered to the very broad subject of raising children. G commented about how thought he knew so much about raising kids before J was born and that he found out quickly that he knew very little. Anyone who knows G knows that he seldom admits that he's clueless about doing anything. More often than not, he'll try to figure it out before he'll read directions or ask for help. And he almost never takes my lead on, well, anything. Until, that is, we brought The Nugget home from the hospital. 

I had never in all the years I've know him seen G so uncertain about anything as he was about taking care of our baby. He asked question after question, like I knew much more than he did. I was probably just as lost. I was literally making it up as I went, and I still am. I was a little shocked by this new side of my know-it-all husband, and I didn't really like it. It's hard when you're used to someone always knowing the best way to handle things and all of a sudden you're put in the position of chief decision maker. I'd be lying if I said I handled it well. I was an absolute mess. Think two year old who just dropped her ice cream cone and let go of her balloon at the same time. I tried to pretend that I had it all together, but there were plenty of days that I sat and cried with my pitiful acid-reflux plagued baby. The learning curve was steep. 

The night we brought him home from the hospital we had arranged our room with the Pack-N-Play on the opposite side of the room from our bed. I figured he'd be in the room and when he cried I'd just jump up and tend to him quickly before I laid him right back down. Yep. It was two hours after bed time before I had instructed G to move that baby bed right up next to my side of our bed so our late night rendezvous would be easier.  It wasn't long before I realized that if I ever wanted too sleep more than thirty minutes at a time that I would have to sleep with J on my chest...in our bed. So much for the 'no baby in the bed' rule. Best laid plans, right? That was just one instance when my expectations did not nearly match my reality and I was forced to reevaluate my ideas. 

I remember debating whether to wake J up to bathe him before bed because I was scared getting him of his routine would throw the whole thing out of whack. If J falls asleep before supper after a big day, I usually can't even enjoy my meal because I'm too worried about whether I should wake him up to eat. Just tonight, I decided to workout before I put J to bed, but he fell asleep with G before I finished. Of course I'm struggling with the idea of whether I should wake him up to nurse (I'm crazy, right?!) or just let him sleep. Typing it out now, it seems ridiculous, but I actually stressed over it! I'm sure I'm not the only one either, come on people! All of these 'decisions' are silly and probably won't have much weight in the long run, but that's what I do. I have an inner dialogue running all. day. long. Every day. And, I know I'm not alone.

I hear my friends stressing over how they just don't know how they're going to 'do it all.' Whether it's going back to work after a baby or having a second, third, or fourth child, no one knows how they're going to handle what's coming. But, somehow everyone manages to succeed. I was worried to death about being a working mother, but I've been handling it pretty well. While pregnant with her second child, my friend was terrified that she wouldn't be able to handle raising two children, but she has done a fabulous job loving and caring for both of her girls. I have a friend that just found out that she is pregnant with her third child. Although she hasn't told me as much, I'm sure she is having doubts about how she'll handle her two lively boys plus an infant. 

The truth is, no one knows how they do it all. They just do it. Every day, they get up and do their job as a mother, a wife, a daughter, etc. Before I started my first year of teaching, I worried about how I'd manage my own classroom. When I decided to go to grad school, I wondered how I could possibly handle being a full-time student and a full-time teacher, but I surprised myself. I've mentioned in previous posts how I panicked when I found out I was pregnant. I was terrified by the thought of balancing motherhood and my career, but I've managed. I've adapted. I prioritize. I work harder than ever. I'm sure that I'll panic when and if, God-willing, we ever get pregnant with baby number two, but I'm also sure that I'll adapt again. 

As mothers, we're met with situations multiple times every day where we're expected to make the best decisions for our families. We don't know that our decisions are going to the best choice, but we trust our instincts, and sometimes our mothers or grandmothers, and we do what we think is right. We pray, in my case, more that we ever have. I've never been closer to God as I am now. Something about the role of motherhood, whether it is the enormity or the difficulty, pushes me to call on Jesus. We prioritize. Frivolous things that we used to think were important when we were single become less so when we have a family. We plan. Planning comes with the territory. Even if your child isn't strictly scheduled, you still have to plan ahead if you ever want to do anything away from your house. We adapt. Oh, you mean your plans go on without a hitch every time? Yeah, I didn't think so. We are literally making it up as we go. We're not 'winging it' per se, but there is no manual for this life. We don't know what tomorrow holds, but we do know Who holds tomorrow. So, I'm going to trust my instincts and make it up as I go. 

Are you ever worried about handling future responsibilities? Have you worried about it in the past? How did you adapt? 

The Truth About Breastfeeding

I knew I would breastfeed long before I ever even thought about getting pregnant. I mean, why wouldn't I? Isn't that how God intended? Of course I'd breastfeed! I was even pretty judge-y of women who chose to feed their babies formula from a bottle. How could they?! I mean it's not like it's hard or anything. (Apologies all the way around, ladies!)

So in true Emily fashion, I began researching as soon as we found out I was pregnant with J. I read blog posts, journal articles, and online forums about the many benefits of breastfeeding. I spent hours on Pinterest weeding through pin after pin about tips to establish and maintain a successful nursing relationship. I watched YouTube videos teaching me how to achieve a proper latch. I learned the breastfeeding jargon. I knew it all....psshh. I knew nothing. NOTHING.

As soon as Baby J popped out, we got skin-to-skin as my 'training' had suggested. I was half covered by a hospital gown with half of my family in the delivery room, but I was too determined to care. He latched immediately and nursed very well. He was a natural. I, on the other hand, was not. I learned very quickly that there are situations in which preparation means nothing. Breastfeeding is one of them. I thought it would come completely naturally to me...it did not. It was awkward and painful and stressful and embarrassing at times. I was not at all prepared for the journey we were about to embark upon, but we figured it out. We succeeded, and we learned a few things along the way.

1) It does hurt...at first. Pre-baby, I read at least ten different articles or blog posts explaining that breastfeeding shouldn't hurt if you're doing it right. I believed them, but they are wrong. It can hurt. Even if you're doing it right. I had three different lactation specialists come check J's latch while we were in the hospital because I was sure something wasn't right. It just hurt SO bad. And bleeding, surely there shouldn't be bleeding. Each of the specialists that watched him latch said that he was doing it perfectly, but it still hurt. And, it continued to hurt until J was about 6 weeks old. I'm not sure if I just got used to it or if J got better at it. Either way, it was a much needed relief. 

2) It's not easy. I thought it would be. I mean, no bottle washing, no buying formula, no late night runs into the kitchen to make a bottle. Easy breezy, right?! Wrong! The part I didn't really think about was the fact that I was going to be my baby's sole source of nutrition for at least four months. That's a lot of pressure! It's also a full-time job. When baby wakes up at 2:00 am, it's definitely not daddy he wants! I remember resenting G for sleeping peacefully beside me as I struggled to stay awake while nursing our two month old. And if you plan on going to work while breastfeeding, it only gets harder. You'll now have to block out a couple thirty minute blocks of time for pumping during your already jam packed work schedule.

3) It's not really accepted in public. People pretend to support breastfeeding, but you'll quickly see their real opinion on the matter when you have to feed your hungry baby in the middle of a Chuck E. Cheese. If you expect to have a social life with a breastfeeding newborn you will eventually have to nurse said newborn in public. It's unavoidable. I have nursed in restaurants,  while shopping, in waiting rooms, in parked cars, and in public restrooms. (Admittedly, not my favorite place.) I've been given dirty looks and I've been praised. I didn't want or ask for either. I was only trying to feed my hungry baby. I had numerous people ask me why I didn't just pump before we went out. You know, because having a newborn is so easy that you should just throw a completely needless and slightly difficult task in there just to complicate things. Did I mention that I hate having to pump? I never quite figured out why people expected me to go through that much extra effort just to make them feel more comfortable. It seems to me that people are extremely supportive of the idea of breastfeeding...as long as it doesn't affect their everyday lives or make them uncomfortable. Breastfeeding is one thing while you're still in the hospital but something else entirely when you're in public.

4) It requires teamwork. People assume that the act of breastfeeding involves only the mother and baby because those are the only two active participants, but success relies heavily on the support of your husband. At first, G was super supportive of my choice to breastfeed. I had educated him on the benefits and he had agreed that it what was best for J, then we had to reenter that land of the living. Nursing in public was a big hurdle for G to jump. I'm not sure if he was uncomfortable with the actual nursing in public or if he was just worried about whether my nursing J would offend someone. Eventually he came around and he has been amazingly supportive ever since. He brings me the things I tend to always need but forget to grab before J and I settle down in our chair. He's understanding when he knows I've been up with a fussy baby half the night. He knows how much I hate pumping, so he takes the burden of washing and assembling everything off of me. If it wasn't for his support and help, I'm positive that we'd have never made it this far.

5) It doesn't help lose all that much weight. Yeah, it burns a lot of calories, but your body tends to try to make up for lost calories. And do you know how it makes up for those calories? By making you a hungry, hungry hippo. Yes, my post-baby weight is the same if not lower than my pre-baby weight, but it's not like the fat just fell of as I ate to my heart's content. I held on to a good ten pounds until I decided to make a conscious effort to cut calories. But, you have to be careful when dieting while breastfeeding. There's a sweet spot in your calories intake. Too many calories and you won't lose weight, but too few calories and you'll really cut into your milk production. It is definitely not worth breastfeeding if the only outcome you are hoping for is a smaller jean size. You'll never succeed if you aren't in it for the right reasons. Dieting and exercise is just too easy.

6) It's a choice. It's a great choice, but it's still just a choice. You make so many choices on the journey of raising a child; how to feed them is just one of them. Breastmilk is very beneficial to a growing baby, but it's not some miracle elixir. I decided that I would breastfed my baby because I thought it was the best choice for our family. It will not make your baby superhuman. It will not ward off all illnesses. It will not make him a genius. There is research to show that it benefits children in all kinds of ways but so does proper prenatal care and a loving, safe home. There are plenty of ways to raise your children to be smart, healthy, and secure. I know women who were driving themselves crazy trying to breastfeed. Your child doesn't need a crazy mama who is fighting the urge to cry at every turn; he needs a loving, nurturing, caring mama who responds to him with love. A happy mama trumps a crazy mama every day no matter what the child has in his bottle.

7) It is not a superpower. I've seen shirts that say "I breastfeed. What's your superpower?" That's dumb. God gave all women the physical ability to breastfeed their children. That would be the equivalent to saying we are superhuman because we can give birth. No. It is amazing. It is awe-inspiring. It is humbling. It is a gift. It is beautiful. It's not a superpower.  #getoveryourself

I've learned so much along this journey. Much of it may be specific to our lives, so maybe this is my truth about breastfeeding. It hasn't all been easy or effortless, but it has definitely been worth it. I'm so proud of my happy, healthy baby boy, and I'm delighted that we've made it this far. I contemplated quitting more that a few times during those impossibly difficult first weeks, but I look back and pity myself. I had no idea how effortless it would become after we figured it all out.

I'm looking forward to getting my body back after he weans. I'll be able to drink coffee without worrying about the last time J nursed. I can cut calories without stressing over a dip in supply. I can quit timing parent conferences and make up tests around my pumping schedule. But, I'd be lying if I said that I don't get the slightest twinge of sadness when I think about. I'll be all too happy to pack that pump up though!

How did you choose to feed your baby? What have you learned along the way? Would you have done anything differently?

Why losing my wedding band was a blessing in disguise

As I got ready for work one day last week, I realized that I couldn't find my wedding band. It's actually my engagement ring, wedding ring, and another matching wedding ring that G bought for me on our first anniversary. All gone.


As you can probably guess, I was frantic. I looked for it as long as time would allow. Like most mothers, I don't have much time for anything except the absolute necessities in the mornings before work, so I had to quit and hope I'd find it that afternoon when I got home.


I fretted all day. I've never actually used that word, fretted, but it seems very fitting for this. I was a mess. Every time someone casually asked me how I was doing I exploded on them about how I lost my wedding rings and my morning was horrible and blah, blah, blah. I would even tell random coworkers who had the bad luck to be walking through the hall at the same time I was. Students who walked into my room trying to score some brownie points with a "How was your morning?" received a long explanation about how it was an awful, horrible, terrible morning. *Insert southern, sarcastic tone here* I was just a ray of sunshine.


When I got back home, I searched high and low for those rings. I searched everywhere that I thought it might me. Everywhere I have ever put it for safekeeping while washing dishes, bathing J, cooking, etc. I even looked in places that I knew it couldn't be. I searched in potted plants, in the air conditioning vents, in the bed sheets. Everywhere. Every. Where.


Eventually I had to give up. There was nowhere else to look, and along with my house I was an absolute mess. All I could think about were my rings. Finally after watching me sulk around for what must have been too long for him to stand, G told me not to worry that we'd buy a new ring if we couldn't find mine. I refused. I didn't want a new ring. I wanted my rings. 


At that moment, I realized the real value of the rings that sit on my hand everyday. A new ring, no matter the monetary value, would never be able to replace my rings.


My husband, all by himself, went to pick out those rings on the hopes that I would agree to build a life with him. He poured over the entire case of rings until he found the ring, his wife's ring. It's a reminder that he only ever wants what's best for me.


He held that ring as he planned how he would ask me to marry him. He twirled that ring between his fingers as he mustered the courage to ask my daddy for my hand in marriage. When the time was right, he felt that ring as heavy as pure lead in his pocket. It's a reminder of all the things I love most about my husband.


That is the ring that I fell in love with as soon as I laid eyes on it. It fit like it was made just for me. It is a reminder that he knows me better than anyone else in the world.


As our engagement waned, it was that ring that I studied for hours on end. It was that ring that I prayed over as I asked God to bless our marriage. It was that ring that my husband slipped on my hand on our wedding day. That ring is the symbol and reminder of our covenant with God.


It's the ring that my husband bought me for our first anniversary. He bought for me it even though there were plenty of other more useful things on which we could spend our money. It is a reminder that he's always trying to make me happy no matter the request.


It's the ring that I made sure I had with me as I went to the hospital in labor with J, even though it barely fit on my swollen finger. It is a reminder of the love that made way for so much more love and happiness.


That ring is reminder of our best days as a couple..even on our worst days.


There are plenty of much more valuable rings, but none will ever be that ring. 


Luckily, I found my ring. They were in the most unlikely place, exactly where I left them. As I absentmindedly took off my jewelry to bathe J, I hung my ring on a hook that I use for my necklaces. I never thought to look there. Why would I? But, I glanced up there as I got ready for bed and there it was. Those three beautiful pieces of jewelry soldered together to be one ring. The ring. The ring that means so much more than money to me. The relief of finding that ring was so enormous that I almost cried. I never knew a ring could hold so much love and meaning.


I never really put much thought into what that ring really meant to me, but I know now. It's funny how God speaks to us in some of the most unlikely ways. I know that my ring is just that, a ring. I would not have made us any less married if it had been lost forever, but it means so much. It's irreplaceable. 


So, all you girls out there pinning beautiful, expensive engagement rings and wedding bands. Think past the superficial value of that ring; think about all of the love that is going to represented by that one piece of jewelry. All of the hopes, the dreams, the faith. There will be so much good represented by that ring.

 Be blessed.

Faux Granite Countertops: Decorating on a Budget

First let me say that this was not my idea. I actually got the idea from The Budget Decorator. Give credit where credit is due, right?!

See. Ugly.

 Anyway, I have the best little trick to share with you. My husband and I have been dying to redecorate our kitchen, but we were hesitant to put a whole lot of money into our house because we are planning to build a new house in the next few years. Regardless of our future plans, I could not spend another minute in that kitchen with those horrible countertops. They were hideous. I mean, these countertops were long overdue for a makeover. While browsing all that Pinterest has to offer, I stumbled upon this post about a faux granite painting technique, and I fell in love! Since I wanted new countertops anyway, I figured I wouldn't have lost much if I tried it and failed. We headed straight to Home Depot to get all of the supplies. The only materials that we couldn't get at Home Depot were the acrylic paints, and we got those at Hobby Lobby. I had an idea of the end product when I was buying the acrylic paints, but if you don't you can just grab a granite sample from a home improvement store for inspiration. The sample will also help you get an idea of the 'design' you're trying to get. 

Materials:

• Primer

B-I-N Shellac Base Primer & Sealer Stain Killer 00904 (1 Quart)

• Small Dense Foam Roller w/roller tray (I'd get extra rollers)

• A few acrylic paints in 'natural' colors (grab a granite sample for a reference)

• Polyacrylic (especially if you're doing the kitchen. It is safe on food prep surfaces.)

Minwax 63333 Satin Polycrylic Protective Finishes, 1 Quart

• Extra fine grit sanding block

• Foam Brushes

• LOTS and LOTS of paper towels 

Martha Stewart 32228 Sea Sponge, Set of 6

• Natural sponges (this is up to you, I actually prefer the paper towels over the sponge)

The left is two coats, the right is just one coat.

Step 1: So, first you need to prep your counters for the primer. Obviously you've got to remove all the junk (I just stuck mine on the stove and other inconspicuous places). Since it is the kitchen, you probably need to clean the counters very well with some type of degreaser. I used a Magic Eraser first to get all of the tough stuff then I went at it with some Dawn dishwashing liquid and warm water. Make sure it is dry, dry, dry after all of that cleaning otherwise the primer will get goopy. 

Step 2: After you clean it, roll some primer over those bad boys. You heard (saw? read?) me right, no sanding! The primer eliminates the need to sand them. So anyway, you roll on two coats of primer with about 30-45 minutes to dry between coats.  

The 'base' color all dotted on there.

Step 3: When the primer is dry the fun stuff begins. Take a paper plate and squirt a lot of the acrylic paint that you
want as your dominant color on it. Roll a couple of paper towels up into a little rose shape and dip it into the paint, then just start tapping the paint onto the counter. All over the counter. There's really no rhyme or reason to it. Don't worry about what it looks like yet, just get the color on there.   




Step 4: After you get the dominant color smudged on there, do the same with the other colors. The amount of each color depends on what you want your final product to look like, it's not an exact science. Just use your best judgement and I'm sure it'll turn our just perfect! There I'd one thing I figured out though, you'll want to layer the colors as much as your arm can stand. The more you layer, the better it looks. Also, you don't have to wait for the paints to dry between layers, I actually like the look you get is you smudge one color into another color that isn't quite dry yet. I don't have any picture for you because I got too excited during the process to stop and take pictures...sorry!

Just look at the shine. Enjoy it. Take it all in.

Step 5: So you're finished smudging now on to the shine. My hubs sort of created this technique where he rolls the polycrylic on first (not recommended), let's it dry, sands it lightly, rolls it again, foam brushes more polyacrylic on top of the still wet layer he just put on, let's it dry, sands it, and repeats the cycle once more with the exception of the sanding on the top layer. The 'normal' method took about six coats to get the shine we had in mind, but his technique only took three coats (and I must admit, it's more like the granite shine). 



 Let the top coat of polycrylic dry and put your kitchen back together :) My 'after' picture is at the bottom. I'm sure you'll notice that I also had G put up a new backsplash. I'll let you know how to do that in a post soon. You'll never guess what we used!! 

Now go paint your countertops and fool everybody into thinking you splurged on granite. Everyone except for me that is...I know your little secret.  

Before: Old Busted

After: New Hotness (I still need to paint my cabinets, so you don't get to see the whole kitchen yet!)

my child is my reason, not my excuse

Something hit me the other day. Okay, it was really more like I hit it. The floor. Yep, I hit the floor. Just went straight from standing to laying flat out, unconscious on the cold, hard bathroom floor. Right there in front of my sink. No big deal, except that it happens more often than I care to admit. I'm kind of like one of those cute little fainting goats...except without all of the adorableness.

Luckily, it has happened only once in the 8 wonderful months since J was born. You don't really want to be passed out on the floor while your baby screams his head off in the other room, you know? The reason I pass out really isn't a big deal. It is something called dysautonomia. I really don't know much about it except that it has something to do with my blood pressure and it causes me to hit the deck a few times every year. I know how to manage it, and I handle it pretty well. BUT, the fact that I was sprawled out on the bathroom floor while my baby was crying IS a big deal. 

As I came to my senses, it dawned on me that this is not okay. Being physically unable to be there for my child when he needs me is not okay. I'm not really talking about passing out every now and then. It makes me feel bad for a few hours, but I get over it pretty quickly. I'm talking about diseases and ailments that may happen to me in the future if I don't start taking care of myself now. Problems that I can prevent by being proactive about my health now. I need to start taking care of my body with diet and exercise. And that's just what I'm going to do.

In my post-faint stupor, I decided I HAVE to make a change. I have to change my lifestyle. I can't keep living like my health will just take care of itself.

I don't abuse my body per se, but I don't exactly take care of it either. I don't drink, smoke, or take illicit drugs. Come to think of it, I can't even remember the last time I took Tylenol. But, I also can't remember the last time I really exercised. Most days, my eating habits resemble that of an adolescent football player. All bad carbs and bad fats. Quantity and convenience over quality nearly every meal. Pizza, burgers, Doritos, Hot Pockets, and lots and lots of Coke. Sounds yummy, right?

I know how to eat healthy. I just don't. I know how to follow an exercise routine. I just don't. So what's my problem?

Motivation. I've been trying to motivate myself with the wrong goals. I'm not motivated to lose weight. I don't care about wearing a size 2. I'm probably never going to put on another bikini, so why would I care what I look like in one? My husband tells me that I'm beautiful just the way I am, so why change?

My son. He's why. I always want to be able to be there for him. I couldn't get myself up off of the bathroom floor to comfort him when he was crying. I didn't have the energy to take care of him after I fainted. I had to send him to his grandmother because I got winded from picking him up. No more. I will not keep treating my body like a trash can. I will do everything in my power to keep myself healthy and active for decades to come.

I have to start actively taking care of my body so I can always be there for him. I'm young, I know. My body is not going to start breaking down on me next week or anything, but I want to start delaying that breakdown now. Maybe if I start now, I can keep up with J when he wants to play baseball in the yard. Maybe I'll be there to watch him grow, get married, and have his own children. Maybe I can sit cross-legged under the Christmas tree with my great-grandchildren one day.

God gave me one body. One day I'll have to answer to my Creator what I've done with all that was given to me. Everything that was given to me. How will I explain how I treated my body? Do I want to have to explain how I wasted it? Or, do I want to proudly say that I strengthened it with diet and exercise to better do His work? 

So, I need to figure out a plan to keep myself on track. As I pondered diet plans and HIIT workouts, it struck me that healthy living shouldn't have to be so hard. I have used diet and exercise in the past to lose weight, but I didn't have a child then. When am I going to find the time? How will I eat healthy, whole foods when I struggle to get my husband to eat anything green? 

I don't know, but I am going to figure it out. It will not be easy, but it will be worth it.

I've made my decision. I am doing this, and I plan to update on my progress. Is anybody willing to join me? Please share what you plan on doing to get healthy. What is your motivation? Do you have any tips that I can follow to keep myself on track?

I didn't choose to teach.

I'm a teacher, but I didn't choose to teach.

I bet if you asked the nation's pre-service teachers why they want to teach, the majority of them would tell you that they want to make a difference somehow. I know because I was there once, and I chose to make a difference, too.

I didn't choose to teach because I wanted to spend my days checking dress code. I teach because I want to be there for a student who doesn't have a coat to wear in the freezing cold of winter.

I didn't choose to teach because I enjoy listening to adolescents tell stories about who partied at whose house last weekend. I teach because I want to be a shoulder to cry on for the students whose best friend hung himself last night.

I didn't choose to teach because I wanted to be able to tell the difference between a student who really needs to go to the bathroom and a student who just wants to get out of class. I teach because I want to be there to help the student who just came back from cutting herself in the bathroom.

I didn't choose to teach because I like to hear the ramblings of the self-professed 'pot heads' in my classroom. I teach because I hope to be the one person who actually gets through to them and shows them that they can have and be more.

I didn't choose to teach because I enjoy giving directions multiple times just to hear someone ask what we're doing immediately after I'm finished. I teach because I love seeing their eyes light up when they finally understand what they're doing.

I didn't choose to teach because I like eating my lunch in less than fifteen minutes while sitting in a lunch room exploding with the sounds of high school. I teach because I need to be there for the student who tells me on Monday that she hasn't eaten since Friday because she doesn't have any food at home.

I didn't choose to teach because I wanted to spend hours every week writing lesson plans that will not go as planned. I teach because I love how it feels when those lessons fall perfectly into place and I can feel my students learning.

As I pulled my projector screen down and wrote the date on the board this morning, I thought about how bad I wanted to go back home. I caught myself wishing the day would pass by quickly. Then I reminded myself that that is not why I do what I do. I don't come to work to pass the time. I come to work for my students.

We motivate the unmotivated.
We love the unlovable.
We teach the unteachable.
We are teachers, but we didn't choose to teach. We chose to make a difference, so that's what we will do.

I love my cowlick. Do you?

I love my cowlick. I got mine from my mother who got her's from her mother, and my son got his cowlick from me. His is much cuter of course. My cowlick puts me in some pretty great company.

Photo Credit: http://wonderopolis.org/wonder/what-is-a-cowlick/

I try hard every morning to blow dry, straighten, and tease that cowlick into submission. I spend about 20 minutes performing the same ritual every day just to have that cowlick show up a few hours afterward. It's nothing too obvious. It has nothing on Alfalfa's mop; it's just always there. I'll never tame it. It has a mind of its own. But, I love it.

I love it because God gave it to me. The bible says that we are 'fearfully and wonderfully made,' (Psalm 139:14) There is no clause to that verse saying 'except for cowlicks' or 'except for gapped teeth' or 'except for big ears.' There is no exception. Our whole selves were specially made by The Great Craftsman for a specific purpose; there is no benefit in dwelling on characteristics that society tells us are flaws. My son may one day learn to dislike, maybe even hate, his cowlick. I want him to know that he is made exactly how God intended...cowlick and all. Everything on his body was placed there by his Designer, and everything has it's own purpose. I will tell him this. I pray that he'll understand. As he sleeps in my arms, I pray that that adorable swirl (or any other perfect part of his little body) never bothers him or makes him self-conscious. 

I spent too many years criticizing my body. Criticizing what I believed were flaws on the body God created just for me. I don't want that for my children. I don't want that for anyone. So, I pray for you. I pray you'll learn that your 'flaws' are not really flaws at all. Your 'flaws' add character. They are beautiful.  They are what makes you unique. They are part of you and you are fearfully and wonderfully made.

Whatever your cowlick is, love it. It is beautiful, and so are you.

I love my cowlick. Do you?

Be blessed!