Peaches and Dreams

Over the 4th of July week my mother's best friend, my other one mommy, Laura, came to visit. I always look forward to seeing her; I love the woman dearly. However, despite the excitement, the week leading up to her arrival I was, well, a word that we don't say in our house. I was annoyed by every little thing, including my two favorite people on the planet: my husband andI my son. Feeling frustrated at my 3 month old brought a whole set of accompanying feelings along with it. I felt like a terrible mom, guilty for not wanting to hold my son or be around him 24/7. I felt GUILTY for needing a BREAK. I tried to pray, but even that frustrated me. I just couldn't seem to find that peace I was so desperately in need of.

When my sisters and I were little, my mother and Laura used to have what they call "Peaches and Dreams". We were NOT ALLOWED at these special gatherings. Often times they happened in one of their living rooms and my sisters and I would play in our room, wondering (and often sneaking out to try to get catch a glimpse of) what they were doing out there with the lights all off and candles lit all over the entire living room. However, despite our attempts to peak, we never really understood what it was all about. The mystery kept us each intrigued until our 18th year, when we each got our very own Peaches experience. I remember them telling me what Peaches was the night I was initiated in. But it wasn't until I became a Mommy that I really got it.

Peaches was started out of desperation. Desperation to just have a minute away. To remember your dreams. To be with another woman, your best friend, and remember what it was to thrive. To be much more than what the daily grind will often wear you down to. I may only be 3 months in, but now I know the desperation they felt.

We read a passage from Anne Leamont (spelling) about motherhood. People are all too quick to tell you how tired you will be, how hard parenting is. But nobody tells you about the guilt that comes along with the feelings of wishing just for a moment you had some peace. These are feelings that come no matter how badly you want to be a mommy, no matter how much you have dreamed of this very moment. I have wanted to be a mommy every since I can remember. I took care of my sisters. I baby sat. I LOVE children and we want to have a slew of them. But that does not make me the exception. It does not exempt me from that moment at 3 a.m., after you have spent all day moving (again), and you are staying in a place that is not your home, and your crap is everywhere, and you've been up since 6 unloading the Uhaul, and your body is still not quite the same after giving birth, and all you can think about it crawling into bed to go to sleep, but then your little one wakes up and you put him to bed 3 or 4 times and yet he is still waking up every 5 minutes and crying and finally you hit that moment of desperation when you sob like a baby and pray for your baby to please just go to sleep. I am sure there will be moments like that all throughout my son's growing up. And that's ok. Because I love him, and my God is bigger than those moments and He is with me always.

BUT...I still am going to need a break sometimes. AND...I have to take the time to thrive and remember what it is like to DREAM.

During this last Peaches, we each came up with a list of things we used to do before we became mothers. I went a little further and wrote out some of the things I used to do before I became a wife as well. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Other than a few random blogs, I have not written since Josh and I got engaged. Somehow in all the excitement, and newness, and moving, and pregnancy, and all the life changes that have happened, I lost a part of myself. A HUGE part of myself. I lost my coping mechanism. From there, it has spiraled. I have lost quite a bit more than the part of me who writes. I stopped dreaming. I stopped dancing. I stopped feeling good about myself.

I miss writing, and doing intense devotionals. I miss writing poems about my Maker. I miss being PASSIONATE. I miss feeling beautiful. I miss listening to music that soothed my soul and made me dance. I miss ME.

Which makes me wonder if my husband misses ME too. The woman he fell in love with has gone into hiding. And I've got to get her back. For my sake, for my husbands sake, and for my little boys sake. SO...now that I have been hit with a ton of bricks, I am not going to sit around waiting for another set to smack me in the face. I gotta get moving, healing, thriving. And so, I think I have found what I am going to write about for the foreseeable future. I can't make a promise to write every week or every day, but I invite you to come along with me on this journey, as I figure out how to balance being a passionate follower of Christ, a woman, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a neighbor, a friend. First things first, as my mother would say: "It's Java Jesus time". (Decaf for me, you know, because of the whole breastfeeding thing, and the fact that it is 10:30 at night). See you soon.