My most important 2015 plan

I’m late to the 2014 reflection / 2015 goal setting thing, I call new baby to that… I mean hey, it’s still January.

Every year, in December, I make a photo book for our family that sums up our new year. Some we give away, one we keep.

photo copy

This year the back of that book said the following:

“2014: The year of Clara. And moving. And church planting. And Kel graduating. And Noelle starting school. And…. a lot of other stuff.”

Last year life exploded across the pages of our calendar. It was a mix of every feeling I’m currently familiar with: hope, joy, heartache, grief, stress, depression, satisfaction, infatuation and frustration.

As I look back through the pages of our 2014 photobook I can see the mix of emotion in our eyes, and as I do each one takes center stage in my chest and, in a small way, happens all over again.

Remember how happy we were when all that snow finally melted and the tulips broke the soil?
Remember how our mouths dropped with the test was positive?
Remember how proud you were when you saw him in his Cap and Gown?
Remember how scared we were as we peeked in on her, sleeping on Kindergarten eve?
Remember how relieved and grieved we were when it all came crashing down?
Remember how overjoyed we were when they brought her to your side and you saw each other for the first time?

2014 was all the things, really it was.

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This is 33

I turned 33. A week ago, wow. I started writing this ONE post a week ago.

Ahem. Thirty three is busy.

Do you remember being a child and being absolutely sure that you were going to do life better than your parents? You believed this same thing in adolescence and in your twenties.

You’d say things like “when I grow up I’ll…..” or “when I’m a mom I’ll _____ with my kids / for my kids.”

I’d have a lot of dogs. (this was a young Leanne dream…)

No, Thank God. 

I’d drive shiny new cars

Nope! We own that old mini van and I love that.

I would travel extensively before I had kids and have books full of pictures detailing my travels.

I’ve yet to leave the continent. 

My husband and I would have a romantic date night every week.

Babysitters + Food = weekly budget breaker, monthly, maybe. But mostly takeout on the couch with board games… and to be honest… movies… and by movies I mean Netflix.

When I became a mom I would have a career but also spend tons of time with my children.

I own NO dress pants and 5 pairs of yoga pants right now so… there’s that. 

Those children would wear cute, gap clothes and never have to endure all the hand me downs of my childhood. 

I adore consignment stores and the kids wear 97.5% Used clothing.

The list goes on. Thirty three is nothing like I thought it would be.

I think I safely qualify as a grownup now. I have three kids and a mortgage so those certainly seem like grown up things and being a grown up? It’s way harder than I thought it would be.

photo

This is what 33 looks like, as seen in a dirty bathroom mirror full of toothpaste splatter.

The bags under my eyes have everything to do with my newborn daughter and my hair is too fun and doesn’t match my dirty mini van and lavender goodwill zip up.

When I look at that woman in the mirror I have a lot more questions than answers.

How I define success in thirty three years of living?
What story am I telling with my time and what sort of role model am I for my children, to whom I’ve dedicated my days and for whom I’ve decimated my boobs?

Am I just a Mom? Is that even a thing? “Just” a mom? It seems like a crock because “mom” keeps me busier than any job I’ve ever been paid for.
Am I just a wife? My career is voluntarily on the back burner these days and I have an associates degree in laundry.

I love being there for my people, but some days I go through life and wonder…. who is Leanne when she’s not being mom and wife?

Impressive Netflix consumer?
Latte addict?
Tidy-counter obsesser?
Worrier?
Whiner?
Pinner of newer, better ways of doing ALL THE things?

Who is Leanne and what was she put here to do, in motherhood and then… not in motherhood?

I’m learning that this is an important question to ask in my life, for all of us, but I think especially for Mothers.

Where are you in the midst of all the Mom?

You were before they were born and you will be again.

I don’t want to send Clara off to college and have no idea what to do with myself.
I want to show my girls that even if you don’t go to a 9-5 that you need to have things that you sprawl across the pages of your life and walls of the world that extend outside guiding them though childhood.

Is Mom enough for me? Should it be? Is this a controversial question? Should it be?

When in doubt I go and read “what my mother taught me” by Shauna Niequist … then I ponder.

Thirty three involves a lot of mom-ing.
A lot of rinsing cloth diapers and folding little socks.
A lot of grocery lists
Endless people feeding. Endless.
It’s a lot of running around cursing and picking up legos smaller than any toy ever should be.

It’s a bit of wondering where I went in the midst of the backpacks and bills.

But I’m learning that the best thing for my family is to be me for them, and I suspect that involves more than dishes and doling out snacks.

I’m trying to remember that when it comes to the number of people in my family that have needs that need to be met, that number includes me. I can’t keep ignoring myself and be the woman my family needs me to be.

I don’t really have a great handle on what thirty three looks like. I think it will involve more flossing than the previous years… and a lot of pondering questions like this.

This post doesn’t resolve. Nor should it. My life hasn’t resolved, it never will, it will end and leave a legacy that has and will continue to impact other lives. At least I hope it will.

Either way I’m starting off 33 with a commitment to think about such things.

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