But who do you want to be?

Years ago, I went on a girls' trip that got out of hand. We were in our early 20s and had too much to drink. Two people ended up cheating on their then-boyfriends. It was horrible. I'll spare you any other details to protect the amazing girls who were present and tell you this: they recognized, instantly, they'd made a mistake.

The moral hangover in the car on the drive home stung much worse than any leftover vodka did. I remember thinking, as we sat - mostly in silence - and our two friends cried as they looked out the windows - this is not the way I want to live. This is not who I want to be. I don't want to drink like this and I don't want my friends to make these kinds of choices. For years I despised the city we'd visited, the shame of the weekend outweighing any of its joy. 

I thought of that trip the other day as I changed McCoy's diaper. It hadn't crossed my mind in years. As I snuggled him for bed that night, I thought that one of the things I hope to teach him in life is this: 

You get to choose who you want to be. 

Do you want to be someone who cheats on her boyfriend? No? Then don't do it.

Do you want to be someone who is patient with her husband? Take a deep breath before you speak. Then be patient.

Do you want to be someone who goes to the gym when she says she will? Set your alarm early enough to make it there.

Do you want to save for vacation? Then stop spending. 

Do you want to be kind and gentle? Hard working? An optimist? An encourager? A realist?

Then be those things. 

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You may think I'm oversimplifying it. And maybe I am. But, everyone has 24 hours each day. We can only rest on our laurels so long before we're making excuses not to grow and evolve. Being who you want to be, for the majority of us, really just takes discipline. Whether it be the discipline of holding your tongue or not clicking through that darn promotional email (I know - I know - it's 60% off!), it is simply a matter of not indulging. 

Every day, you have a chance to be who you want to be. Take a deep breath, say a prayer, meditate, slow down - do whatever it is you need to do to make it possible. And if you mess up today - if you snap at your husband or skip the gym or just don't have the energy to clean your house - try again tomorrow. 

Every single day is a fresh start to be who you want to be. 

The more you have, the more you need.

My niece is getting into the babysitting business and charges $5 per hour. Seeing her joy as I paid her $25 for being a mother's helper a few weeks ago got me thinking about my own journey in money making.

I used to run the same gig as her - helping my aunt with my cousins - and I'll never forget the day she bumped me up to $7 per hour. Two whole more dollars for every hour I was there! I'd made it, y'all. I laughed thinking about what I would have done a few years ago, at - say - age 27, if one of the families I babysat for had handed me $28 for four hours of work. 

It got me thinking about how, as we receive more in life, we begin to expect more.

$14 for two hours of work, which used to excite me, wouldn't even be worth doing the job now.

But, it's not just with money.

Last week, I found myself a little sad because I hadn't seen my family much at all. We were sleep training Mac, which meant I was spending most days home alone while he slept. This is important to his development and I was so thankful for how he was rocking out in his crib. But, as Chris had a busy work week and I did everything I could think of around the house, I was tempted to get a little grumpy that I couldn't see my parents or siblings. 

All of the sudden a little voice reminded me that I used to regularly go months without seeing my mom, dad or sister when we lived in Atlanta. I was lucky if I ever saw them twice in one month! Here I am, sad I have to go seven days without seeing them.

The truth hit me then: the more we have, the more we expect from life. 

I'm not saying this is a bad thing. It's natural to continue to strive for more. The key, though, is to have more gratitude than longing. 

It's totally OK if I want to see my mom often - we spent 13 years in a long-distance relationship. We should maximize our time together when we live just 25 minutes apart! But, at the same time, my gratitude for living so close to her must outweigh my longing for more. 

Whether it be joining a fancier gym, losing weight or making more money, let us see in the abundance in our lives more than the lacking. Whether it be owning a nicer home, traveling often or having more babies. Whether it be making more friends - or better friends.

Let's pursue - wholeheartedly and genuinely - the things we yearn for more of in life. But, let's pause first to see the very good we already have. Let's count the fruit daily and believe we are already living lives of abundance.

You Don't Have to Make it Look Easy (in fact, it's better for us all if you don't)

I will never forget the first time I failed a test. I was in fifth grade and we were studying the solar system. First of all, my brain and science don't click. Except for Punnett squares because, let's be honest, those are basically math. Second of all, the solar system: it just goes on and on? Forever? I can't wrap my brain around this.  

I knew I hadn't aced it, but when the teacher handed me my paper covered in bright red, I was shocked. Instantly I felt my face flush and a knot rise up in my throat. I wanted to throw up and hide under my desk all at once. I'd never seen a "D" on a paper before. 

Inevitably, Matt, the boy next to me took the moment to share his thoughts on the exam with the class: "This test was so easy," he said with a grin as he stared at his perfect score. Ah, the omnipresent humble brag in the elementary school classroom. My face burned as I hid the paper under my green folder; the color combination lighting up like a Christmas tree.

Recently I was thinking about how hard adulthood can be. And while we aren't being graded on it, there are days it feels like we're failing. Like if someone were to hand us a paper with our scores, there'd be a lot more red than there was on my science test. 

I realized then that there are still Matt's of the world, lurking around, reminding us that, while something may have been hard for me, it was easy for him. In fifth grade, he waved around his A+ exam. These days, he's on Instagram or in the office, implying that he's cruising through life, making everything look natural and easy. 

Something early motherhood has taught me is the power of admitting how difficult things can be. I can't tell you how many people have called or texted to check in, admitting each time: "having a newborn is so hard," and "those first few weeks are the toughest of all," and "hang in there, it gets easier."

A part of me wanted to tell these friends, "Oh no! It's amazing! I am loving it. I'm so happy!" Which is the truth. I am loving it and he is absolutely amazing. But it's also hard. It's a sleep-deprived, hormonal, sometimes tearful season. And when my friends let me into the challenges they had during these early days, they gave me permission to tell them the truth. 

What these conversations have taught me is that when we're honest enough to let people into the hard spaces in our lives, we give one another permission to be vulnerable.

I think sometimes we feel guilty when we admit things we have wanted for a long time are hard. Our internal voice goes something like this:
I wanted a baby so long; how could I ever struggle with this?

I wanted to quit my job for years; how could I complain about the challenges of finding clients? Or the creative pressure? 

I wanted this promotion forever; how dare I feel frustrated by the hours? 

I'm learning lately that honesty and gratitude go hand-in-hand.

I can be grateful for building my own business, while still frustrated by certain parts of the process. I can - and am - thrilled with having a newborn. But that doesn't mean I have to love every single detail of it. 

Life can be super, duper hard. And there's no shame in admitting it. In fact, by sharing its challenges with one another, we create room for more growth and connection.

We do one another a disservice when we pretend everything is easy.  So today, here's my truth: early motherhood is hard. It's amazing, beautiful and an incredible gift. Am I loving it? Yes. But, y'all, it's tough. And you know what else is hard? The planets. I mean. They just go on forever...? 

Happy Tuesday :) 

Do You Take Life Too Seriously?

Chris and I have an ongoing, pretend debate that centers around this question: am I easygoing? I have enough classic middle-child qualities that make for a healthy conversation: I tend to be agreeable, quick to compromise and, like every good-girl-turned-adult, eager to please. From a distance, these qualities can make me seem relatively relaxed. 

This side of my personality is never more obvious than when I show up to the Atlanta airport 40 minutes before a flight, confident we will "figure it out!" if we miss it. Those traveling with me are sprinting (/sweating), while I am stopping to buy gum and a magazine. 

During our debates, I often joke that I tricked Chris into dating me by seeming chill, only to reveal my anxious, sometimes high-strung side when he was already hooked. This is, of course, fictitious. It was on our first date that Chris said: "This feels too good to be true. Tell me all of your bad qualities now so there aren't any surprises." 

At which point I believe I told him: "I tend to run anxious. I am working through perfectionism. I put a lot of pressure on myself, especially when it comes to people and things I care about."

Never has this been more true than in motherhood. You have so much responsibility, combined with love, for another human. It can feel overwhelming to make the right choices, especially when handling a newborn who can't express his needs.

Early on I realized I was taking the role very seriously. While I, yet again, tried to be easygoing, as people encouraged me to relax into it and follow McCoy's rhythms, I stressed a lot. Tracking his sleep, poop, pee and feeds. Worrying if, at 2 p.m. one day, he'd barely slept. Worrying still more if, at 4 p.m. the next day, he'd barely been awake.

"He pooped three times yesterday, why hasn't he pooped today? It was yellow yesterday, did you notice it was green today," I'd ask Chris. "Should we call the pediatrician?"

Our pediatrician doesn't know it, but she thanks Chris for his calm reply: "Let's give it a little time before calling." 

Bless this steady man. 

A few weeks after Mac's birth, my friend, Katie, who has a very similar easy-going-high-strung-personality, told me this: 

I'm trying to remember that not everything in life is so high-stakes. 

I made her repeat it. 

High-stakes. 

It struck me. I treat so many parts of life like they are high-stakes. As if there is great risk or impact or loss at every turn. 

It is a combination of two things: Desperately wanting to "get it right" when it comes to the people and things I love. And wanting to please. 

Combined, these two desires can create a monster of anxiety. They can make every decision or step seem superly important. They can make it so life becomes more serious than it ever needed to be. 

Lately, before beginning a task or decision, I've been asking myself: is this high stakes? 

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If the answer is yes, I allow myself to take it seriously, diving into it with research and zest and focus and whatever I need to do to feel prepared to tackle it.

If the answer is no, I force myself to take a deep breath and let my shoulders drop just a little bit. Perhaps even smiling through it - even if it's just me, solo, grinning away.

I'm remembering that life presents enough opportunities to be serious. We need not make mountains out of molehills when life is already full of so much heartbreak. When it already asks us to make big, impactful decisions regularly. When it already requires us to be grown ups so much of the time. 

Today, let us not treat every inch of life as a high-stakes game. Instead, let's remove pressure from ourselves, opening up our hands and letting go of frivolous expectations. Let's sink into the natural rhythms of each season, knowing they are meant to be lived with freedom and grace.