Dear New York,

I hope you're doing well. 

It's been a while since we left you, but we certainly haven't forgotten you. You're still very much in my heart. I think of you often and smile, the occasional tear creeps up when I'm feeling sentimental but I'm okay. We left in a bit of a rush, and I'm sure that's a big reason why I just can't seem to get over you. Our time together was cut short, but regardless of that, I'm so thankful that we got to wander and explore while we did. 

We moved to a much smaller quieter town, on the other side of the world really, and she couldn't be more different than you. She's quaint, and sleepy, and friendly. Calm, and slow, and covered in overgrown greenery. Despite the massive change, I'm surprised to find my day-to-day life hasn't changed very much at all! We still hear sirens for late night fires, and see the occasional police arrest. We walk to parks, to go shopping, and sometimes just to get out of the house. We still fill our days with busy toddler projects and games. We still watch cartoons on sleepy mornings and bake yummy treats in the kitchen. The overall scenery has just changed. No high-rises, underground subway rumbles, or relentless cab honking. No verbal abuse from passing strangers, dog poos to avoid on the sidewalks, or pompous rich people snubbing our humble background. No brownstones, stoop sitting or late night catch ups with mom friends in the stairwells... 

We loved living in your city, New York. You have so much to offer, and I can only hope we were able to give, even just a little bit, back. Somehow, while living with you for two years, we missed out on some of your charms and historical characters, dozens of places we didn't make it to but wanted to. We did SO much, and saw so much of you, but still didn't manage to do it all. Which, of course, is why I'm glad you're still there, waiting for us to return. 

I miss you, so very much, but I think my time for grieving is needing to come to an end. It's time to move on, my dear New York. I can't stay sad over you any longer. 

I can't wait to see you again, to return to your gorgeous skyline, become another dot in the otherwise endless sea of faces,  and soak in the electric vibe you ceaselessly expell. It will be an amazing day, when I get to return to you, but until then- I've got to live my life. You can move on, too, welcome new families and visitors alike. Let others leave their small, but important mark on your map. I'll be excitedly awaiting my return to you... And until then,

Stay lovely, New York. I'll love you forever.

This Christmas.

Christmas is approaching quickly and I'm glad to say that, although I'm slacking on the present purchasing, we DID get our tree up.. Our first real tree since we've been married, y'all. Now that's something I can get excited about.   

Out first Christmas was only a few weeks after our wedding and a few days after arriving home from our honeymoon. It was a lovely and quiet one with friends in KC, gathered around my childhood mini Christmas Tree feasting on my very first attempt at making crépes. I think we even did a little secret Santa exchange with a $10 limit. 

The next year was spent in California with Nic's family, and we decided against decorating our apartment too heavily since we'd be gone for 3 weeks! We all got a stomach bug (Nic's parents and sibling included), which made it a little bit miserable of a trip, but we still managed to get out and do some dirt-biking and go-karting, and enjoyed lots of family time. Plus, sharing our exciting news about baby #2 made it a really special trip! 

Last year was spent in Albuquerque with my family, and once again, we decided not to put up a big tree since we'd be gone for a solid 3 weeks. We got to soak in some sunshine, hike and snowboard, and enjoy heaps of quality family time at random brunches and dinners. Truly a wonderful Christmas vacation! 

This year is so different. 

We don't have to travel more than 5 minutes to see family (2 siblings currently LIVE with us, so it's as simple as going downstairs, haha.) We are staying home, and attempting to create some of our own traditions in a new country and a yet another new home. And we have a little preschooler who is TOTALLY into all this Christmas stuff. I am really looking forward to seeing how this side of the world celebrates Christmas. From what I've seen so far it all seems pretty similar. Jesus' birth is a central theme and advent is pretty well observed, in fact, this Christmas marks the 200th year since the gospel was first shared with native New Zealanders, which is super exciting! And of course, the fat man himself Santa, is also all around and a huge part of celebrations. Although, this Santa wears shorts and looks a little bit like a beach bum. Haha. Still rocks a long white beard though! 

Summertime Christmas may never feel normal to me, but thankfully, summer in NZ still means random cold and cloudy days. Which means I can still gladly find an excuse to stay in all day and bake, or drink hot cocoa, or cuddle up and watch Elf! Definitely a Christmas tradition I refuse to let die. :)

Hasta luego, lovely people. 

Precious, isn't she? 

{found my "thing"}

Yep.

I've figured it out.

Turns out I do have a thing.

It's making babies. 

Yes, indeed, you read that correctly. Our precious little Numba Three is on his/her way! Apparently, part of my "thing" is getting unexpectedly pregnant, about 2 months or so after we move somewhere new. (Or to be fair.. 3 weeks after we got married, too!) And with patterns like this emerging I may have officially asked Nic that we not move.. Like ever again. Because I'm not sure I can handle any more surprise pregnancies like this. Haha! 

My excitement has ebbed and flowed like the tides, it seems. But I am finally in a place where I'm genuinely pretty stoked and excited and hopeful for the days to come. I still occasionally feel overwhelmed and like I have a lump in my throat threatening to escape in the form of ugly crying. Which of course, draws the attention of my 3 year old, who tries to comfort me by singing songs and bringing me his bunny to cuddle. But yes, peace and joy is finally what rests in my heart. I mean, seriously, we make some pretty precious little beings.. And aside from the colicky phases, crazy toddler defiance and potty training that seem to follow shortly thereafter, they've been an absolute delight to raise and watch grow.

To be completely honest, I was definitely not ready for this. And if it weren't for needing to bust out my trusty hair tie trick to fit into pants these days I still might have a hard time believing it ;)

Obviously, I'm not the first person in the world to have a bit of a surprise pregnancy, and not even the first to have 3 in a row but never in a million years would I have seen myself with 3 kids at 25.  In fact, I don't think I would have seen myself with any kids at 25. My perfect starting age in my perfectly mapped out life plan was 27- have a few spaced out by a couple years each and wrap it all up by about 32 or 33. But, as with most things in this life, God had a completely different plan for me, for us! And that's okay. 

Does it make me any less thankful to have these babes? Of course not. 

Does that make me any less in love with my children?! Don't be ridiculous. 

Does it make me a little envious of people who can use all the varied kinds of birth control and skate by without ever wondering why the heck they're starting to feel sick all the time and just.. so.. tired.. And oh wait, oh no... Yep, that's a plus sign..? Well...Yeah. Haha! Not about to lie about that one.

We're officially 0-3 as far as baby planning goes, and for a girl who's always trying to organize and plan and process outcomes of things LOOONG before ever having to face them.. This has proven to be quite a challenge for me, mentally and emotionally. 

Regardless of my initial feelings, however,  I've taken much comfort in knowing that we could not be in a more perfect place to be expanding our little family. And no matter how much my heart still grieves over leaving my beloved NYC, we could NOT be doing this if we were still there. God's timing truly is perfect. We have space to grow into here, which we severely lacked in our little corner of East Harlem. We have a fully fenced in backyard where the kids can play for hours without much need for mommy intervention at all, which of course was not the case there. Here we are surrounded by family, and while we had a handful of wonderful close friends in NYC, it's not quite the same as having dozens of aunts, uncles and cousins around the corner. We are blessed to have full maternal health care coverage, completely midwife lead, which is my preference by far, while birthing in NYC is a pretty tough business that I'm not sure I'd be up to dealing with again.. Ultimately, this is the perfect place for us to be. And I am so thankful for that. Even if I didn't know, God knew. 

I say it's high time to focus on the positives and joyful moments... Like having Hudson and Charlotte in the checkup with me when we got to hear baby's heartbeat for the first time.. And these little kicks and flutters I've been feeling for a while.. And the crazy amounts of kicks that start up when Hud or Lottie are laying on me... And the excited reactions we get from people when we tell them because "they thought we were done!!" (Ha.. Us too!!)... And the look on Nic's face when I spelled a message out in the sand... 

And the funny ridiculous outtakes from trying to get the kiddos to take a cute Pinteresty type announcement photo.. 

And how Hudson keeps talking about the baby in mama's belly and what the baby's heartbeat sounded like. "Thump, thump, thump, mama!" He likes to lift up the edge of my shirt to see my belly and talk to baby and give my belly kisses. And even likes to take pictures on my phone of my belly profile. Too sweet, that boy. Such a tender little heart. 

Lottie still doesn't really understand, and I don't expect her to anytime soon.. But she is going to be a great big sister, I'm sure of it. From the baby to the middle babe.. It's gonna be good for her, our little diva could stand to be taken down a few notches ;)

Alas, joyful or slightly worried, excited or overwhelmed- it is time to face the facts, and my growing waistline (and nausea, and dizzy spells, headaches, cramping, etc)... Because ready or not, this babe will be here before we know it! All the uncertainty and worries will just be a distant memory and we will get to snuggle a precious little squishy, fuzzy headed, tiny babe. And that is something we can all can get excited about! 

And believe me, my quest for a thing is not over. I WILL have a thing, one day... Maybe when my kids are all a little older and don't require 100% of my time and energy 100% of the time. Until then, joyfully, this whole mom thing is my "thing." 

  

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.." Jeremiah 1:5

{some}times

Sometimes babies hate sleep. 

And when your name is Charlotte Rose, "sometimes" more often means "all of the times." 

And that can sometimes lead to late night typing just to stay awake while a certain babe thrashes in your arms. 

And if your name is Kristin Rose, that "sometimes" means right now. 

Nic ventured off with one of our Uncles to see the new Fury movie tonight.  I'm fairly certain Charlotte just wanted to make sure I didn't miss out on any opportunities to snuggle up and not get any housework done. You know, cause I don't do that enough during the day.. Although the daytime "snuggling" part is more so playing referee and consoling various worries. But that's alright. 

Tonight, I don't mind at all. I'll kiss her little sweaty head and giggle at her occasional snores while I still can. Soon she won't need me to cuddle her to sleep, or pat her belly, or stroke her head. She won't need Nic to get up a million times* each night to replace her paci or fix her blanket. She won't need us to help get her through the night..

And while that sounds like a dream come true right now, we may actually come to miss it one day. Maybe not the broken sleep.. But being needed, wanted even... Yeah, we'll miss that. 

Wanna know what else we'll miss? Hudson running around in his cape. He's recently started insisting on wearing his super-cape for various outtings as well as just around the house. He runs as fast as his little legs will allow him and shouts with delight, "I'm flying, Mom!! Look! I'm FLYING!!!" And then he'll fake crash into the bushes with gusto. My word.. That little man. He makes me smile! (Sometimes.) (Okay. A lot of times) Our most recent public display of SuperHud was for our grocery shop a couple days ago..   He was so proud of it and he soaked up ALL the compliments like any SuperHero would, with a bashful grin from ear to eat and a high pitched, "thank you!!" I'm pretty proud to be raising a polite SuperHero.

In some of my weaker moments, or the heated moments (ahem, cue mommy rage for a toddler pooping on the front porch**) I forget. I forget that these days are fleeting and these babies are growing. In fact, they're not even babies anymore! I forget that one day my house will be empty and I'll be left hoping and praying that I did enough.. That I didn't somehow ruin them. That their lives would be a reflection of a wonderful, well rounded upbringing with loving parents who pointed them to Jesus at every opportunity. In any case, I'm thankful. I'm thankful to have the sweet moments, the ones where I can sit, breathe in their sweet scents and remember.. Even if just for a moment. These sweet little babes. They're hard work. They're exhausting. They steal my chocolate. But man, they're worth it. 

*obvious exaggeration but at 3am and he's out of bed for the 4th time for whatever reason, it feeeels like a million. 

**not an exaggeration.

Hey Ya

Ever have random old memories come rushing over you out of nowhere?

I'm all for moving forward and continuing to learn and grow and not dwell on the past but I gotta say, sometimes these sorts of memories overwhelm my heart and mind and I get all warm and fuzzy, nostalgic, or sometimes even a bit embarrassed. 

For instance, I was sitting with my kids the other day playing with them when a pretty popular over-played song came on, Hey Ya, actually. It reminded me of my freshman year of high school. And more specifically it reminded me of a guy that had made a big montage of photos from a class trip with the song in the background.. And then THAT reminded me of when my spanish teacher was upset with me. To the point where she kept me after school to have lengthy discussion. (I had her class for the last period of the day.. which meant she could keep me in there as looong as she wanted.. Yikes.) Why was this all connected? Not because I was being unruly or not turning in homework or distracting the class with my awesome rendition of the Hey Ya chorus, but because I was a jerk and I had to cancel on going to prom that guy who was also a student of hers. She was concerned for him and expressed her distaste for girls "like me" who "hurt nice guys.." It was all a big misunderstanding and it was awkward to say the very least.

This guy had been a good friend of mine. A senior who was in Continentals with me, no romantic connection on any level, just a friendly Christian guy and he'd asked me to be his date! The majority of my friends were seniors and he offered to let me come with so I could be there with them. Sure, now looking back, I can understand that he likely had a bit of a crush on me but I was none the wiser and I would have loved to go. Truly. But, the BIG but.. I wasn't allowed to date, on any level. And I didn't know how to express that to him.. So I tentatively gave him my reply- a big fat maybe. I was pretty certain my parents would say no, but for the sake of being a good friend, I thought I could at least ask.

Before I knew it, it was the week of the dance and I hadn't even yet gathered the courage to ask my parents. I knew what their answer would be but I felt like I couldn't tell him a direct "no" until I had heard it for sure from them.  So Monday morning rolls around and I stroll in planning to let my friend know that I just couldn't come, annnnd there he was, gifts in hand. There was a THEME for every single day that week of gifts to bring your date, and he had them ALL. I hadn't even said yes officially and here I was arms full of snacks and random "Under the Sea Royalty" trinkets... I was so overwhelmed. And incredibly embarrassed. It was like one of those moments in a movie where the stunned silence somehow gives way to this bubbling excitement from the other person and the silent one is almost ignored in the wake of the excitement... How on earth could I break it to him now?!

I went home that night with my assortment of treats, practically begging my mom to ask, "What the?," which she did, thankfully. And I spilled it all, finally, telling how much I wanted to go so I could be there with my friends, and how excited this guy was and how much he'd already spent on getting me presents... To which my mom, very gently, explained that there was no way I was going to be going to prom, muchless with a date. The way she put it, (then infuriating but now totally understandable), an 18 year old guy does not need to be taking a 14 year old to prom. Plain and simple, no matter how "friendly" the terms. It just didn't need to happen. He could find a date his age and I could hang out with my other friends that night.

I draaaagged my feet into school the next morning, hoping to muster up some sort of sugar coated excuse to tell him for why I couldn't come.. I even offered to give him the gifts back so he could hand them off to his new date but he took it like a pro! He genuinely seemed like he understood! I was shocked. He was totally cool with it. 

Or so I thought. He must have spoken with my spanish teacher that same day, before I had her class, whether he was harsh about what happened remains a mystery but either way- she was fired up and ready to lay into me. I pretty typically tried to lay-low in all of my classes, unless the teacher was a bit more of a friendly personality who liked to joke around with their students, to which I'd always grab onto and try to keep going all year. Regardless of any kind of "friendship" with a teacher I always had an underlying fear of them and their power and always desperately tried to stay on their good side.. Teachers pet? Maybe not in that extreme but definitely a little bit of a goody-two-shoes.  I never ever wanted to give reason for a teacher to not like me.. Annnnd here she was, using her grown up stern voice and telling me how big of a jerk I was... 

Oooh it stung. And I'm sure I fought back tears when I tried to explain what had happened but I pretty much lost every chance to be on her good side from that point on. And my friend never really mentioned the situation again. Hindsight, of course, I could have handled it all very very differently but I guess that's part of growing up. Gaining perspective and learning from mistakes. And being able to laugh at yourself for being, well.. Childish. 

Shake it like a Polaroid picture, right? 

Little baby Kristin and the rest of the freshmen in my first year of Continentals.. So presh. 

-rightnow-

How many times do we sit back and reminisce about the "good ol' days?" Whether it was childhood or high school or college or earlier years of marriage? 

And how often do we get caught up dreaming about the future and the hopes of what will be? Successful career, dream house, or perfect family? 

We often spend so much of our time living in our pasts or dreaming of the future that we kind of miss out on the right now.. I know I'm guilty. Wishing old memories to be present moments, thinking back on what "could have been," rewording conversations so I came across more wittily... Thinking of what it will be like when Hudson is in school, or when my kids are teenagers, wondering about how long I'm going to be living here and when we'll move again.... Maybe it's just part of the human condition but I find that we can easily spend too much time thinking about anything but the now.

I've recently been struck with the reality- we have NO idea when we're going to think back to this very moment and remember how sweet it was.. And wish we could have it back. Or that we could change something about it. 

And I know this isn't some new revelation that no one has thought of before, like I'm some deep philosopher who has stumbled upon some new idea about life, but it is certainly a new reality to me. Something I've always "known" but am really feeling a stronger grasp on.

I want to love the moments I'm in while I'm in them. Not be wondering about what its gonna be like in the future or wishing things were like they used to be. 

Granted, I do think there is some good to be said for both remembering the past and thinking of the future! I'm definitely not saying we shouldn't do it. That's part of the beauty of this life, being blessed to have memories worth reliving, and futures worth looking forward to- but my point, or at least what I've been realizing, is that spending too much time dwelling in those mindsets can bring an uncanny amount of sadness. Or depression. Or even downright bitterness. 

And my right now deserves some joy. 

Driving around on one of our little adventures with my little family yesterday I tried my best to focus my attention on the right now. I wanted to intentionally pay attention to the precious little moments that may (or may not) eventually be one of my "think back" memories.. I want to find the freedom in right now. Not yesterday or tomorrow..

I want to revel in the joy of right now.  

 

Weighty.

Oh my.

So it's been a while since I've written anything about this. And I think there's good reason. For one, I vowed to myself that I wouldn't obsess any longer, at least not publicly... And I've been mostly successful in the sense that I haven't posted anything online. Ha. 

I've still struggled a bit on the inside. My mind has sometimes been consumed with self-loathing from time to time. I've commiserated with friends over seemingly ridiculous body-complaints. And I've shared openly with my husband about each of my different struggles, but finally... Something is clicking. Something has changed.

It could be a few things, really. Either I'm growing up or wising up or maybe the fact that I haven't weighed myself since April (which is a big deal since I've been an obsessive 2-3x daily kind of girl for as long as I can remember... No bueno) or maybe because I'm living in a country where there's no real pressure to be extra thin and normal, healthy curves are the absolute norm... Or likely the combo of all of the above.

Buuut I'm actually kind of happy with the way I look these days.

"Soft edges" and all. 6-pack abs will probably never be a part of my life, and I'm actually pretty okay with that. I know I could stand to slim down a touch, firm up from here to there, but honestly? There's a time for that. And now is not that time for me. I've only recently started getting sleep on a regular basis and starting some super strict work out regimen is in no way appealing. Running when Nic gets home from work some days, sure. Trying to squeeze in some push-ups and crunches while the kids are distracted (or climb all over me), of course. Sprint up the stairs with laundry in tow, well yeah, that's just fun. Beyond that, I am making no commitments, not yet.

Of course, I still see slender, toned women and think, "Wow, they're really beautiful." And maybe even for a half a second I feel a twinge of guilt for not trying hard enough during my work-out (or lack there-of.) But for me to commiserate and beat myself down for not looking like that right now is absolute absurdity. And I'm thankful that mindset of mine has been coming to an end. It isn't healthy and it isn't the way I want to live. And it definitely isn't the kind of body image I want to pass down to my children.

I know this may not seem like all that big of  deal, but for me, it is quite literally life-changing. I have had a horrible body image for most of my life. It started when I was 8. EIGHT, y'all. I remember starting to see girls in my class in a whole different way than just my peers or friends, I saw girls who were smaller than me, girls who were more athletic than me in P.E., girls who could wear really cute outfits that looked like mini-Barbie dolls and I hated it. I started calling myself things like fat and plump. And likened myself to just being the "funny fat girl." That was going to be my place. Because surely, I couldn't belong amongst these tiny, beautiful girls in my class. It didn't help that I also had family members who would forbid me a second helping of dinner, or would look at me in disgust if I wanted more dessert, or heck, pinch my sides and tell me to run more. (Seriously? Can you imagine saying that to a 9 year old?!) I look back and that "hideous fat girl" I thought I was, turns out it was merely a little bit of pre-pubescent chub. That's all. Puberty hit and I slimmed out, thank God for that, but the mindset never really left. Those beginning thoughts of an 8 year old, who didn't listen to her mom when she said she was beautiful and rather listened to the other voices that said she was lacking, she wasn't good enough- that is what shaped my life. It's truly tragic. I've hated my body and all of it's flawed pieces for so long, it's hard to remember a time when I didn't look in the mirror and loathe what I saw. There's been an obsession with "skinny" my whole life, and I've never really even achieved it! That's the funny thing! I've been slim, yes, and nice and toned and all that jazz, but truly skinny like I longed for? Ha. No. My body is simply not built for that. And I've haaaated it for that.

How can we change this? How can I assure that my daughter, even if those thoughts flit through her sweet mind, won't buy in to the age-old pattern of body-hatred? What steps can I take now to open the doors of communication with my kids so that they feel freedom to discuss these things, rather than erupting in a fit of hysterics during jean shopping in middle school because a size 5 suddenly qualifies you as a "fat ass" {yes, that happened. Mom, you're a saint.}?

I find it incredibly sad that our culture is consumed with one body trend after the other, super skinny or overly-fit, "real women have curves" or thigh gaps, body-concious or overly-body-obssessed. I have super fit mom bloggers staring me down with 3 kids on her hips questioning, "What's your excuse?" and another less fit mom in the next saying, "I don't need one."  I, for one, am happy to move on and find my own happy place. My own comfortable shape. I think it's high time we stop letting other people define what we should look like. If you want to work out 7x a week and eat a Paleo diet, then by all means, please do. But don't shame me for opting out of gym time to have dinner with my family and more than likely finish off with a giant bowl of ice cream in front of the TV. If you want to control your portion size down to the gram and calorie count, oh my goodness, I applaud your efforts,  because that takes some amazing dedication. But please, for the love of God, don't give me the stink eye when I get up for seconds. Oh, and if you feel like never working out and eating every meal until you feel like you're going to pop, go for it. But don't feel offended and suddenly self-conscious if I decide to forgo dessert. I think there is a fine line between sharing your excitement for something that is working for you (because let's face it, that's exactly what I am doing.. right now.. you're reading it) and practically forcing your ideal on someone else, to the point of making them question their own worth.

We're in this together, y'all. Let's encourage each other to find their happy comfortable self, and if that looks a little different than our own personal ideal, then so be it. Take care of yourself, find what works for you. And if that stops working, make some changes, ask questions, but don't hate the in between time. Enjoy the process. I think barring life-threatening habits; i.e. bingeing and purging, anorexia, overly-working out without proper protein and calorie intake (yes, it happens and no, it is NOT safe), and I dunno, extreme unhealthy weight gain or loss, we should support overall health and wellness, healthy minds, and nutritional and physical education for children and adults alike. The more we know about food and our own bodies, the better off we all will be.

Guess what? I think I've eaten more ice cream and fried foods in the past 3 months than I have ever allowed myself to, and you know what, my jeans are fitting a bit looser these days. Don't ask me how, or why.  {Some might argue it's because of "muscle loss" but these hips don't lie, and I'm not sure how much "muscle" was there to begin with, others might argue that it's because I don't wash them often enough, but I digress ;) } As I said in the beginning.. Maybe I'm getting older, or wiser, or no longer obsessing with the number on the scale but... 

... Freedom. Ahhh. It is sweet.

Go get yourself some. (And have a second helping while you're at it!)