Do I brunch? Me? (Uncontrollable laughter here) No, my brunching days our behind me. This morning, I scarfed a cup of coffee in record time in attempt to fuel up before the gremlins arose from their peaceful slumber so they could ask me to do things for them that they can do on their own. Then I changed 5 bazillion poopy diapers and finally got to that big pile of laundry and then spent naptime writing new resources for my auction clients. No time for bottomless mimosas and French toast over here.

You can choose to have regrets or you can choose to have stories in your life. Anything you do, whether you succeed or "fail" becomes apart of who you are. It shapes your future and builds your character. I put "fail" in quotes because the only way to fail in my book is to not try.

Has anyone written the book "What To Expect When You Don't Know What The Hell Is Going On" yet? I'd buy it. I'm still waiting for that moment when all the mommy wisdom will infiltrate my brain. I wish it would come soon because I have two kids and I don't even know when I should take them to the doctor for a cough or when they're "fine, it's just a cough." There's such a fine line between "meh, you're fine" and "you are dying and I should have taken you in so much sooner!" When do we start to know these things? 

Dear Stretch Denim,

You are a bad friend. You initially won me over with your yoga pants-esque elasticity and small size. I bought you at the height of salad season, so proud to own that tiny number on your tag. Then, as we moved into fall (aka carb season) together, you still hugged my waist and hips without judgement. You thought you were being kind, but you were just lying to me. Yesterday I put on your cool older sister, REAL JEANS, and that bitch told me I'd gotten fat. She was so mad at me, she refused to button. It hurt, but it was what I needed to hear. I'm sticking with thick, uncomfortable traditional denim from here on out. Stretch jeans, we had a good run, but I don't have room in my life for liars.

xoxo,

Sarah

It's a long game, ladies. Something I struggle with every single day. As I work with my kids' hearts, trying to shape them into decent human beings I can get discouraged because somedays it feels like I'm not making any progress. "Oh, really, you're still going to have a tantrum over that? Remember how well that worked out for you yesterday?" Day by day. Week by week, being a parent can be exhausting and discouraging. But you are making progress. You can't see it in the immediate, but nothing great ever was accomplished overnight. Stay strong, mamas, I see the work you do everyday. We may not be perfect all of the time, but for the most part, we chug along diligently. Your diligent and patient work with be blessed.

There is so much I want to share with you and when I get excited, I have this really uncool tendency to word vomit everything I think I want to say to the point where none of it makes sense and then everyone is like peace out, lady. I don't want to do that to you. What I want for you is clarity and freedom to pursue a life that falls in line with your core values.  

I've been gone quite a while. It almost makes me feel unqualified to come back, but lately I have been hearing the Lord gently say to my heart "Speak to women." And then today, I received an email from one of you who shared your heart with me and reminded me that this is important. So, forgive my absence and thanks for letting me share my life with you.

I recently turned 29 and every single day I have a mini panic attack about how I have to get my act together before I turn 30. Taking an outside look at my life, I am doing pretty well. I'm married to an awesome guy, have 2 kids and a dog, and run a semi-successful business that allows me to stay home with my kids during the day. While I've accomplished things and have everything I could ever have wanted in life up to this point (seriously, Glory to God here), I still fear I'm not adulting to my fullest potential. Yet.

When I was pregnant with my second child and still carrying around a baby who was not yet one year old, people would give me pitying looks as if they knew the hell I was going to experience as soon as that second baby forced its way into the world. It was obvious my kids were going to be close in age. No one told me ho hard the first few months (or even the first year would be), but they would tell me how my children would someday be best friends and how incredibly special that would be for me. The other tidbit I would hear from experienced strangermothers with kids 15 months apart is that I could totally potty train my kids at the same time. Tandem Potty training is what held me through the trials of the first year and a half. When life got tough, I would l think to myself, "at least I'll only have to potty train once."  

I've mentioned what I'm like when I am pregnant, right? Totally nutballs crazy. Okay, so me with the house on the market may just top that. There is so much to stress about. We are not made of that thing...what's it called? It's green and has faces on it. Yes, Money. Right. That's it. We are NOT MADE OF MONEY, so we had to sell our house before we could buy another one, which means we had to live in our house while it's on the market. 

Like pretty much every big transition, I was dreading the transition to a big boy bed because I knew it would interrupt my sleep. Sleep is very important to me. Like super important. One night of poor sleep will turn me into a bat shiz psycho lady who can't finish her sentences. So I put it off and put it off - the same way I'm still putting off potty training (is it Karma that made me pee a little while sneezing in the middle of typing that sentence?). For the first month, we had him sleep in his pack and play mostly because with the Holidays we knew we'd be putting him down at other people's homes a lot and didn't want him to get too confused.

I so want to be one of those women you see on the internet who DOES IT ALL. You know - all of the the things. She raises well-behaved children, runs a successful business out of her home on top of maintaining a blog that encourages women while generating income for her family. Her house is clean and organized and looks like an anthropolgie ad. She actually has six-pack abs (you know it from her instagram account) and makes healthy balanced Whole30 meals for her entire family every night and her kids LOVE it. She always has her hair curled and make up on (but not too much make up, just enough to make her look refreshed without seeming to try too hard). On top of all this she is an active servant in her church AND reads her Bible, journals and prays on the reg. 

Last Sunday, our family graduated from the "Two Under Two" Club. At the stroke of 12:15am, Titus turned two. Now, my husband and I just look at each other in shock and awe and we wonder how the heck we ended up with a two year old! What the what? You mean those passing days actually make time change?

My apologies for the hiatus. Also forgive me for assuming you cared. For the sake of my opening sentence, I'll pretend you do. So, thank you for caring and I'm sorry I have been offline (sort of) the past several weeks. What happened, you ask? Well, we decided we wanted to be insane people and attempt to sell our home while we are still a family with two under two. Again, this is all because we are nutballs.  

Your kids are little and needy and sometimes it's just easier to stay in than attempt to be a regular human being and go out for a date. But dating your spouse is super important because you love each other and you need to remind yourselves that you are some damn attractive motherfathers and enjoy each other's company and remember that you actually like each other. If you aren't dating, it is so easy to fall into a rut of being roommates who share duties of raising the tiny humans who steal all of your sleep and eat all of your blueberries.

Okay, here is my advice to anyone dreading making this transition.

After months of consideration and thought and research and advice, I decided to rip off the bandaid and transition my infant into her brother's room. We have a 4 bedroom split-level in the burbs, but only two bedrooms upstairs, so room-sharing was inevitable with having two littles under two. This is a process I had been dreading for months, but now, after having done it, I'm not sure why.

I've been taking my time with the book of Luke this summer as a part of a series that my Church is putting on, and I am LOVING it because it gives me time to fully digest and meditate on all of the truths in front of me. The one verse that I keep coming back to in my mind is about the mother of all mothers.

I spent most of last week in a zombie-like state due to my angel baby deciding to act not-so-angelic. Particularly at night. Sleep deprivation is like emotional sabotage, am I right? Like every other parents of babies, we kept making up reasons why she wasn't sleeping as if we knew: She's teething, she's growing, sleep regression, etc.

A couple weeks ago, I wrote a post on Mother's Day Gifts, and as it turns out, my husband reads my blog. So on Mother's Day, I walked out of my bedroom to find freshly brewed coffee, fresh cut lilacs that my toddler stole from my neighbor's yard, and a card that contained a "to do" list. Now, what you need to know about my husband, is that nothing gets his blood pumping (if you know what I mean) like checking something off his "to do" list. So to him, a "to do" list is the ultimate gift. Before you get all mommy-judgey towards my husband, let's take a quick look at the list he gave me: