There’s been no glamour here lately. No makeup and no fancy outfits. No adventures and no excursions. I’ve done all but prop my eyes open with toothpicks at the end of the day to keep pushing through the to-do list and sleep has never, ever felt better. I will say, I’ll never forget the memories we’ve made these past few weeks while packing up this house. It’s pure chaos, for sure. But the four of us in the home that started it all has felt like the sweetest gift.
Today marks day one of loading up the moving truck. We spent the weekend packing up a storm and doing little else, aside from a beautiful going away party Saturday evening and the sweetest Mother’s day yet. I’m looking forward to this final stretch of everything moving entails and finally arriving to our new life in Texas.
Here’s to a new week– our last week in Virginia.
I wrote the piece below on Mothers Day in 2013, almost exactly a year before I’d find out I was pregnant with a baby of my own. My mom is the complete opposite of me. I spent my whole childhood confident I’d never understand her, and yet three years after becoming a mother myself I realize we are all called to mother in our own way. We’re given children just for us. Grace just for us. Wisdom just for us. Endurance just for us. And inspiration from our own mothers, just for us. If I didn’t have a penny to my name, no roof over my head and no one to call mine- I’d still know the goodness of God because he chose me for my mom. Happy Mother’s Day, friends.
I grew up watching my mom take the best care of our house. All 7 of us kids split chores every day including making sure our bedrooms were clean and clearing the mealtime mess after dinner. But so much of the responsibilities of the home fell on my mom. I mean, the way she handled laundry for 9 people will never, ever cease to blow my mind! I knew from a young age that I wanted to create that same environment she created for us. Clean, tidy and orderly. Let’s just say I’m no natural Martha Stewart. I have to work really hard and be very disciplined not to let myself run a home that resembles an episode of Hoarders, but it’s a priority for me and I work every day to channel my inner Martha somehow. Here are a few things that have helped make home-keeping more of a breeze.
One day early this month, we were sitting at the breakfast table going over what we’d each be working on that day. O was deciding whether he’d drive to Baltimore to check on our renovation project that morning or the next and I was planning on laundry and the park. I realized somewhere between making breakfast and clearing my plate that this was one of the last days the D.C. Cherry Blossoms would be in full effect. If you’ve never seen the Cherry Blossom Festival, pull out your phone and add it to some to-do list in your Notes app because guys, It’s magic. Magic for free! We’re never really spontaneous on weekdays but on this particular morning we found ourselves packing lunches and loading up the car for a day in the city.
Oshiolema talks more than just about any kid I’ve ever met in my life. He stuck strictly to “Dada” “Mama” “more” and “that” for a what felt like a long time, but once he hit 18 and 20 months old he whipped out this vocabulary that blows my mind every day. At 3 years old he’s more curious than ever and his questions and commentary warm my heart or make me laugh til’ my stomach is sore. (Unless, of course, it’s him saying ridiculous things to Keogena or asking me the same question 30x a minute.) I keep a little journal of the stand-out things he says that I just know I want to look back on when the house is quieter. While each “how come” feels like a brick on my back at times, I’m so thankful for the way his brain works and for the opportunity to hear the many thoughts in there. Here are a few Oshiolema-isms as of lately:
We’re in the age of social-media and treading uncharted waters. It felt fun and exciting at first, but my legs are getting tired and the water is getting deeper. Everyone is putting on a brave face, but I know this is dangerous.