Count the Cost... and the Joys

My favorite thing about this picture is how David can look simultaneously EXHAUSTED & so joyful. That face pretty much sums up parenting.

Sometimes (and by that I mean at least once a week) my husband and I look at each other and say, "What the hell have we done to ourselves having children?" And our eyeballs go... O_o

Parents know that the joys of parenthood are the highest high you can have in this life, so they don't tell you the dirty little secret. Kids cost you everything. They impact everything.

Here's one way to describe the cost of kids:

You'll never sleep in again.

You'll never casually decide to go out again.

You'll never be able to "run" an errand again... it will forever be a painfully slow inch-worm crawl that requires an entire weekend of psyching yourself up.
You'll never look at a mirrored/glass/lucite piece of furniture again and think, "Well that looks like a good idea!"

But there's another way to count the cost...

When you sleep, you'll savor it like the best sleep of your life.
When you go out, you'll suck up each cocktail drop like a hard won prize... you earned it.
Even running an errand alone can have the effect of a day at the spa. Ahhhh. Silence.
Your house will take on a harried warmth and natural functionality that reflects your true life... and that has a cool beauty of its own.

It's all about your perspective.

In the Bible, James says, "Count it all joy, brothers and sisters, when you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness."

Joy in trials? That's weird.
But when you look for those drops of joy in your trials on the daily, you gain steadfastness. (Steadfastness... that's an awesome quality. That's a word I want my boys to use to describe their old ma. She's always there... she's constant... she's steadfast.)

Trials are par for the course with kids. You might as well look for the joy.

Your perspective will determine your perseverance.

Loving Ugly People... and Other Beautiful Things

A few days ago a friend was telling me about her journey through the adoption process... she had to fill out paperwork which detailed what kind of disabilities in a child she would be willing to adopt.

Will you take a child with autism?
Will you take a child with cerebral palsy?
Will you take a child permanently wheel chair bound?
Will you take a child infected with HIV?

It occurred to me that when we talk about how Jesus adopted us as sons and daughters, we usually think of ourselves as cute little orphans with big round "hold-me" eyes and all of our limbs in place.

But what Jesus really did was.... he adopted the mentally-handicapped quadriplegic with HIV.
And that person is me.

Also this week, I attended a dinner to benefit and raise awareness of Citizen's Advocate: a sponsorship program pairing able-bodied folks with mentally and physically disabled/differently-abled folks.

The people who shared their testimonials of pouring out their time, energy, and love for the handicapped invariably said, "They have touched me more than I could imagine." And yet somewhere deep down in my heart, I have to be honest, I was glad that they are doing it so I don't have to. Isn't that truly sad?

When I realize how deeply the Father has bent down to wrap his arms around me (adopting me, the most handicapped, ill, unpleasant human with all love) how can I not long to pour myself out for others... ugly others... difficult others... completely-different-than-me-others? Because they are NOT completely different than me. We are the same.

I'm good at loving pretty people. Good at loving my own beautiful children. Good at loving my friends who think like me, eat like me, parent like me, look like me.
I'm basically a Narcissistic Lover... I love things that reflect myself.

Lord teach me to love as you love. Not looking for myself in others, but looking for you.

Blooming Where You're Planted and What You Are

This week I said to a long-time friend, "With most people I feel like I'm either too much or not enough. All my life I've been trying to be myself in a simple and balanced way. It's amazing how often being yourself doesn't actually work out."

This week I've been all emo, angsty, ridiculously introspective, and kind of annoyingly insecure. Basically I've been 13.

I know it's dumb, but it's hard to stop.  Like cocaine? *shrug*

It's hard to rein in the wild horses of self-doubt that stampede through your heart and make you want to run away from everything and start over in a fresh country where no one knows you're actually 13 on the inside.

Doubt is a cancer. It drives you away from friends & community. It drives you into your little hole.

It makes you feel unloved. Worse, it makes you self-focused when you should be fearlessly loving others.

Doubt is a joy killer! It takes the delicate flower, or wild rambling vine, or hearty tomato plant of your personality and shrivels it. It makes the functional tomato long for violet petals and the lily feel stupid for being purely ornamental.

Being yourself DOESN'T always work out... but that's ok. If you're a tomato you're going to be great at being a delicious summer snack... but you'll probably never be in a wedding bouquet (unless it's the new hipster thing).  If you're a lily, you're going to be an incredible ornament in a significant event... but no one wants you at their cookout. If you're a violet, you're going to pop your head out of the brown dirt first in the spring and brighten the bare times, but you'll never be surrounded by other glorious blooms... you'll stand alone.

We are all different. We all have our seasons. We have to bloom where we are planted and give the gifts we have to give.

Sometimes it's just hard to be ok with it.

Yogurt for Dinner

Tonight I was frantically trying to cook dinner with a crying baby on my back.
E-Money was trying to raid the fridge.

Me:   "Get out of the fridge. I am making dinner."
E:      "No! You not make dinner! I make'uh da dinner!!"
Me:   (Feeling sassy) "Ok, fine! You make dinner. What are we having?"
E:      "Yogurt."

He got me. He has a plan.

#Ishouldhaveletthetoddlercook

Don't Shower... SKETCH!

I should have showered after the kids were down for naps... cause I actually went to the gym!!

But treadmills are boring, and my brain is always going a million miles an hour... so I came up with an idea, and I had to sketch it.

THE MICRO HOUSE.
What if we built little bitty single-person houses as permanent structures for homeless or transient populations? 

+ What would the programmatic needs of this population be?
+ What are the security concerns?
+ What are the constraints (environment, demographic, materials, etc.) that impact design decisions?

So I sketched and came up with this little guy.  Lots o' notes. I won't bore you.

Good little exercise.
I wonder if I could get a KickStarter thing going to make a few prototypes and install them in the Transient Camp under the Savannah Bridge?  That would be fun. We could do "post-user analysis" to see how they helped the community. Simple and direct. I like this idea.

Don't steal my idea! ... Or do, I guess... The more good we do, the more good-er the world is.

That's all. Now it's shower time.


***** EDITED TO ADD ******

And then a friend of mine sent me this!
https://www.facebook.com/mythpla

Somebody is totally doing this!!! Niiiiice!
We can do it too, and do it better. That's the beauty of design.


***** EDITED TO ADD MORE *****

I've been looking at that guy's pictures and I like how we both have two key elements.... slant angled roof and a window that pitches out. Form follows function. Thumbs up.

I'm Back, Baby!

May 8th... well, five minutes away from May 9th.
The last time I wrote was May 10th, 2013. Two years ago.
It feels like an auspicious coincidence.

It feels like the completion of a large circle (or---as a wise man once said---a large pass around a spiral... a lot like a circle, but we're moving up!)

The last time I wrote I was at the beginning of a two year tussle with postpartum depression, the development of an anxiety disorder, a nervous breakdown, and an impossibly long recovery journey. I capped it all off with a second baby. Motherhood is like some weird form of torture. It will either break you or make you stronger... or break you and then make you stronger.

I'm stronger. Gentler. Softer. Kinder. Quieter. Simpler. And stronger.

I'm The Kawa Mama! But today, I know what that really means in a deeper and more profound way than I did on May 10, 2013.

I'm back, Bay-Bee!!!

My Mission: Part Two

I haven't been around lately because I've been fulfilling "My Mission." It's been a whirlwind of rush, hustle, and buzz.... while juggling the crankiest week of my entire life with Eames.... which culminated in him cutting a tooth, so that was satisfying.

This Week's Completion List:

- I completed phase one of my construction document set for a Frozen Yogurt store that starts construction as soon as we get our docs approved by fire marshal, health dept, land lord, etc.
- I completed a logo & brand redesign for a new skincare line that is being launched sometime this year.
- I applied said logo to a personal branding package.
- I had friends in town from the college days. During their visit I successfully went from being 200 points up to loosing by 300 points at Spades... good times were had by all.
- I made the most darling Mother's Day cards. (More on that later when they've actually been delivered.)
- I took one shower. Yes. Only one. The other washing-of-me was done in the bathtub with my son at night since I've been very busy during his naps.
- I made a cotton gauze baby wrap that my husband said I looked very beautiful in.
- I watched the Hobbit... enjoyed it... but also critiqued the stage make-up styling mercilessly. Why were they all so clean and fluffy?

And I still have a few days to go. Shew!

I didn't do everything I needed to. I didn't do it all perfectly or perfectly on time. But I did it. I was busy but I lived a balanced life, making time for all the good stuff and saying "No" when I needed to. That's all you can ask for, at the end of the week.

Cheers,
The KawaMama