Oaxaca

Vagabonding now is different.

Much, much different.

Oaxaca is beautiful. The colonial feel of the cobblestone mixed with the brightly colored buildings and edgy street art on every other corner is something so very different. Our neighborhood is old, but seeing a revival of sorts. We have a lavanderia, a tortilleria, and, claro, a barbershop bar called Barberia Krampus. You read that correctly - a barbershop where he does haircuts and close shaves and you can have a cold beer. There are coffee shops, a wood-fire pizza restaurant, an organic grocery and cafe, and more. Our apartment is nice, furnished, and the perfect mixture of small enough that we can always see our mischief-making son but still have separate rooms. We are trying to live in this small corner of the world.

"And there are a new kind of nomads, not the people who are at home everywhere, but who are at home nowhere. I was one them." Robyn Davidson

Everything is an adjustment. We are acclimatizing, getting used to, transitioning. And it is so different this time around. This time I have to account for a husband, for a son, for a daughter. For nap times, for feeding, for snacks, for toys, for time outs, for bad behavior, for good behavior, for language school, for homework, for playtime, for sunscreen, for sunburn, for bug bites, for owies, for water, for bedtimes, for all of the things.

The weather is hot. The Spanish often goes over my head. The time zone change, the culture shift, the food differences, the apartment hunting, the street vendor browsing, the taxi driver conversations - these are all things that I know, that I love. But it is a different world when you have a family. If it were just Marko and I, there would have been changes, but they would have been minimal. But a family nomadic lifestyle is an entirely new world.

I am slower to absorb this culture shock than I have been to others.

It is hard to figure out how to best go about immersion when you have to tote around a little red headed girl who can't walk. It is hard to imagine browsing in a mercado when you have to worry about your two year old disappearing into the crowd. It is hard to keep track of snacks and of meal times and water bottles when it's not just your stomach that informs you of the need. It is hard to think about which papers and which toys you will need at the immigration office in order to best satisfy the government and your two year old. It is hard to wear your four month old daughter in 30 C heat.

It is much easier to prioritize in familiar place with familiar people and familiar things. But it is, for me, much less rewarding.

Yuriko, Cynthia, Juan, Delfino, Rosi, Jomas, Eduardo, Pedro, Rosa y Lola - this is the beginning of community. It takes time to build, it takes hard work. It is inconvenient, it is exhausting, it is frustrating. But it is worth it. And it is better to do with a family. They create opportunity, both to explore and to rest. They create a loving safe space to be yourself in. They provide moments of the utmost love, joy, frustration, anger, hope, laughter, strife, wonder. And I am so glad to be here with them.

I couldn't do it without them.

Far Away and Next Door

Know what I love?

I love having friends all over the world. I love checking my Facebook and seeing 4-5 languages in one scroll. I love the amazing things they are doing; from graphic design to dorm parent, Tucan Travel to Terralba, learning to teaching, single, married, engaged, young to old, stripper to preacher, loving God and people in Ecuador, China, India, Uganda, DC, Maple Valley, and so many more I feel guilty for not naming them all. I love that we have a bond, no matter how strange or distant or small. This is not a brag about how cool I am for knowing these people - this is a brag about how lucky I am to know these people.

Seriously.

These people are the best people. They are funny and sarcastic and ironic. They have deep, meaningful conversations about everything and nothing. They are talented; wood working, gardening, boat building, language learning, engineering, parenting, writing, hosting, singing, dancing, cooking, preaching, befriending - their talents are endless! They are good, good people. The kind of good people that make you check yourself when you say something nasty in traffic, not in a judge-y way, but in a makes-me-better way. They are people who love. They love through thick and thin and short and tall and all of the things. They love even when they barely know me and when they know me all too well. These people are the best people.

And do you know what I hate?

I hate having friends all over the world. I hate that they can't stop in and have tea. I hate that our friendship, while amazing and unique and beautiful, can't grow as quickly or deeply as it would if they were near to me. I hate that even if I go visit one of them, there will always be 10 more I want to visit. I hate that even when we are able to get together, it never feels like enough time. I hate that Skype planning is so difficult because of my and their schedules and time zones - and that I am just so bad about planning that out.

True story.

I want these best people next to me. I want to be able to call them without racking up a cellphone charge that physically injures my bank account. I want to be able to invite them to dinner, for coffee, for walks and talks. I want them to just randomly pop in because they know I'm home. I want them to see Rory every day so they aren't surprised when he walks across the room. I want them to laugh with me, cry with me, struggle with me. I want to see them more than once a Skype and on Facebook.

But then...

I do appreciate the Skypes - no matter how infrequent or regular. And I adore the visits - no matter how short or long. And I love the Facebook comments - no matter if we're besties or acquaintances. And I am blessed by the friends I have next door.

I love our landlords. They are like a third set of grandparents for Rory and oh! how they love him. I love my super amazing Monday night crew. I like our yoga and our deeper discussions. I love being real with them. I love my flakey friends - you know who you are. I love that we can not see each other, even though we want to, but still pick up where we left off. I love the people I am flakey with - you also know who you are. I love that you continue to pester me, please don't ever stop pestering me. I love the people I barely know who give me hand-me-downs, book recommendations, prayers, and winks. I love my Sunday people. I love my youth group kids. I love my girls who are no longer girls but collegiate women. I love the people I haven't met yet, the people I will never meet!

I love all my people. All God's people.

I love you because you are the threads of the beautiful tapestry of God's creation. You are the perfect example of how we are all so unique and so the same all at once! You are the people who struggle and bleed and laugh and sing. I love you all because you are different than me. I love you because you believe differently, try differently, dream differently. I love you because we find common ground in those differences. I love you because we have spoken every day, twice, and not at all. I love you because you are talented and gifted, because you share those talents and gifts. I love you because you surprise me and are so predictable. I love you because you are far away and next door.

I love you and today? I cannot even think of one reason not to.

Even when you are mean. Even when you do something you didn't mean to, when you say something you think might have been a mistake. Even when you let fear take over. Even when you are selfish, even when you are greedy, even when you forget who you are. I love you even when you hurt yourself, even when you hurt others.

This is not because I am some great and selfless person.

Because yesterday? I did not feel like loving anyone. Yesterday I was selfish and angry and sad. Yesterday, you all loved me. And that is why I am reminded that even when I have a yesterday, there is always a tomorrow. And I am so blessed to be loved by a God who loves me unconditionally and a you who loves me on my bad days, that I can love you all like that return. Wherever you are all over the world - far away and next door.

Super Happy and Uplifting Stories

The blinking cursor is my enemy.

I literally have 9 drafts sitting in my blogger, waiting to be finished or edited or even begun. But I can't. I just can't. I don't feel like it. I don't want to. I don't have any desire to hit that publish button and let you all in on what I'm thinking, feeling, experiencing. For awhile I was too busy. Then I was too busy and too boring all at the same time. And then I was too busy and too boring and too involved in other things (I've overcommitted myself this Fall). And now? Now I don't want to talk to you anymore. Now I am struggling and I feel bad for not including you in what has been happening previously so why would I bother you with the negative crap?

But I'm going to.

Because the other day someone told me how much the loved and appreciated my blog.

-insert guilt-

So there's that. And I love to write and I am wondering if maybe, just maybe, much of what plagues me can be worked out on my keyboard. I've been reading a lot and it reminds me of why I love to write - because I love to read. Seriously, you should see my side of the bed. It is all books. Copious amounts of books. Stacks and piled and leaning and each one more desirable than the next and I just don't have time for them all which breaks my soul into pieces - book shaped pieces. But it also reminds me that I love to read because I love to write, and vice versa. They are the perfect little yin and yang that make up my ink stained fingers and hardback heart. So here I am at the computer again.

Wah wah.

Firstly, they are clear cutting around our house. Gross. It makes me want to move. It makes me want to pack our things and find some new house in the woods with goats and donkeys and chickens and coyotes and elk and all of the things. I do not live down a long gravel road so that I can have wide-open-clear-cut spaces around me. No. Just no. Trees are like my books. I want them around me. Lots of them. And when they are missing? I am incomplete. I just wander aimlessly or focus too much and too hard on stupid stressful things. Plus, my husband is like two trees away from becoming an eco-terrorist and I would really rather he stays out of prison. And I want my trees back.

Like, now.

So, I work for a church and our church is kind of small, which means we have 3 employees - *had. Our Youth and Children's Ministry Director decided to go back to school to get his Masters. This is a grand thing that I am actually quite jealous of! However, it also means that we have to hire someone new. We haven't yet. It's a long and tedious process and in the interim? I have kind of found myself in a leadership position with lots more responsibilities than I would like. This is not so much due to other people shirking their duties as it is me taking on responsibilities that no one else likes because otherwise, who will do all of the things?!?!

Needless to say, my life has kind of turned into a Circus - capital "C".

Like I said, I've been reading. Lots of things, but Carry On, Warrior: Thoughts on Life Unarmed by Glennon Doyle Melton specifically. I like her writing style, mainly because I feel it reflects my own, but also because her stories reflect my own. I was in tears by probably the second vignette. It might have actually been the first. Yes, because the book is sad, but not like a Nicholas Sparks novel sad. It's better than that. Deeper than that. It's sad in the way that real life is sad. It's sad like stubbing your toe after the worst day ever. It's sad like when you feel you don't love people enough. It's sad like realizing your kiddo is sick after you've been angry with them all day because they've been "whiny." It's sad like that. Which is the worst and best kind of sad. It makes you smaller, which actually makes you better.

That book makes me better.

Then there's the fact that I'm fat.

Well, kind of. Actually, not really. See, I had a baby and then that baby became a toddler and weaned himself and I lost weight and got skinny and I was super excited - except I didn't do anything, I just had a baby and the rest was science. So now I am realizing/remembering that in order to stay small or continue to get smaller, I have to work hard because I'm not 12 anymore. Yah. That's stupid. Why do 12 year olds get good metabolism when all they do is treat their bodies like crap? Riddle me that.

Anyway, my lazy self just wants to casually do yoga and continue to watch pounds shed like unwanted puppy fur in the Summer time. But it's Winter and I am not a dog, sooo... back to intense yoga and running. In the freezing. In the wind. In the rain. And I still feel fat most of the time.

And then there's Bible Study.

So, the youth group kids, you know, the ones who lost their youth group leader to University? They would like a Bible Study (did I already mention my life is a Circus?). And honestly? They need one. Because youth group is still kind of settling into what it looks like without a paid staff person and it's a little disastrous - definitely lacking structure, anyway. And the topics that the kids want to talk about? ARE AWESOME. They are so awesome. We have the best kids in our youth group. Thee best. I would challenge you to find better, more involved, more justice and civic minded students. All of them. From 2-20, they are amazing.

So now I am building a Bible Study and I thought I had a good grasp on what they wanted to learn - I was wrong. Or rather, I just assumed in the wrong direction. What do my very intelligent, civil servants want to discuss? All of the stuff every adult wants to hash out with teenagers - sex, abortion, gender equality, homosexuality, prayer... the list goes on. I'm super excited they feel comfortable enough to have these conversations with me, but seriously - CIRCUS.

Oh, also, poop.

Literal poop. Rory's poop is a constant conversation in our house because he struggles with his tummy and gets so upset when he doesn't feel well (as he should), but that makes Mama and Dada upset in turn. Because we want him to feel well and play nicely and snuggle, but he feels all gross inside and this leads him to be cranky on the outside. Every Circus needs poop, I suppose.

Aren't you so glad I gave you an update?

I know, you missed me.

And I missed you.

I Am Not A Pinterest Mom

Awhile back, I wrote on the Facebook wall of a friend from another era. Just a "Hey, how are you doing?" kind of hello. He asked me if I had beaten Pinterest yet. I wanted to kick him in the teeth.

Truth: I love Pinterest. It combines the two things I love most in this world after God, my family, and adoption: images and information. I am almost entirely visual. I cannot handle being told anything verbally unless I have a pen and paper. Pinterest beautifully weaves together my learning style and passion for knowledge into a blanket of lovely. If you scroll through my Pinterest you will notice that every single pin is my style of aesthetically pleasing. There are two notable exceptions: home school information (which pains me that no one has made a pretty graphic for all of it) and things I post for Marko. I have a problem.

I try every recipe I post.
I sew every clever project I pin.
I plan out every housing project I would do if only my pockets were deeper.
I create home school curriculum.
I honestly spend more time just scrolling through my own pins and admiring all the pretty images than anything else.
Except maybe the "Kiddo" tab.

 

Adorable.

And the Kiddo tab is my undoing. I consistently find pictures and stories that bring me to tears - happy or sad. It's ridiculous. But also found on the Kids tab are parenting articles. I'll admit (with extreme prejudice) that sometimes I find a blog that I find humorous or informative, but mostly it just makes me feel like a failure. My son is 13 months old and nowhere close to sleeping through the night - or in his own bed. We don't have a washer/dryer so we can't do cloth diapers (don't get me started, I fully understand how uneconomical and un-ecological disposables are). I tell him "No" more often than I would like. I get frustrated with him when all he wants is my attention because I want to get something done. I am upset because we live in a way that means I work part-time and I don't get to be a stay-at-home mom. I never actually got around to teaching Rory sign language. We didn't do any cute month-by-month pictures. And he ate peanut butter and strawberries before he turned one.

Lord help me.

I consistently forget to get my son breakfast before 11am. Sometimes he doesn't go to bed until 10:30 because I don't feel like making it a battle.When Rory throws a tantrum, I often forget to calmly explain to him the what and why and just throw a tantrum back. A "well balanced lunch" is regularly frozen blackberries with bread dipped in peanut butter and jam. I use sarcasm (in case you weren't aware) and realized yesterday that I have been actively trying to teach my one-year-old to throw things (plushy footballs, but still). I swear, I have little-to-no sense of time, I let Rory play with any tool that has no sharp edge, and enjoying watching Criminal Minds while he plays with his toys next to me.

I am winning no parenting awards.

Last week while hanging with my wonderful girlfriend, Becca, we were discussing what it meant to let God "love on you" and we came to the decision that it was a balance of accepting who God has made you to be and really living into that. The analogy I decided on was yoga (you're surprised, I know). In yoga, there is no perfect pose because the goal of each pose is actually to go beyond physical limits; putting your forehead to your shins is not the objective, the objective is to go through your shins into the earth - but that's impossible. You are constantly accepting where you are while striving to go further in yoga. And that's what it is like to let God love on you.

And that's what it's like to be a parent.

I have the perfect example laid out for me in scripture. A Father who loves me unconditionally, who calls me back when I have wandered, whose heart breaks when my own is broken, who forgives me all of my many many transgressions. And I will never compare. Not to the Pinterest Moms, and certainly not to God. But one of those is worth striving towards and one of them isn't. Some perspective is in order here. Who cares if I potty train my son in three days as long as he is unconditionally loved?

At this point, all I can do is pray for wisdom, strength, and have another cup of coffee. Because being a mom is never going to get easier - just different. And there will be one million voices telling me I'm doing it wrong, but there will always be at least one telling me even though I will always do it wrong, it's still worth trying.

But What Are You For?

There are about one million versions of this quote.

But I'm not too cool to admit I've always liked it.

I have mixed feelings about "Christian music." Partly because a lot of it sounds the same and it can be boring. Partly because something about God being a great artist and us being made in his image so music is all technically "worship music" - that is kind of a lengthy conversation in itself. But I have had a flat out downhearted attitude lately and have been in need of some worship - even if some (most) of it is boring. And just when I thought to myself, "this is not helping," I head this one on the radio and - well...

Don't just roll your eyes at me, sometimes punk rocker Malia has a weak moment of Casting Crowns adoration. This is one of those times. And I am not sorry.

"We cut people down in your name, when the sword was never ours to swing."

Ouch. It makes me think of Peter. You know, cutting off people's ears in defense of Jesus (John 18) and then being scolded. Sometimes we put forth all this effort to defend our faith, when, if we had really been living it out, it wouldn't have needed defending in the first place. What we stood for would have done all that work for us, but we chose to strike out at what we were against instead.

There was this one time I went to a Christian music festival and there was a company who were selling t-shirts with your premium Christian values on them, you know: gays are bad, abortions are bad, sluts are bad, porn is bad, etc (Christian consumerism at its best, folks). It spent all weekend pissing me off. And, I'll be honest, I wasn't quite as polite or refined then... or now. I can't for the life of me remember what the shirt said, but I do remember it was about abortion. I do remember it pointed a very demeaning finger at anyone who had ever had one. And I had friends, plural, who had them.

I should be clear about the fact that I believe life starts at conception. Yah, I'm one of those. My belief plays into it, but also just being a mama. However, I also believe I have no idea what is like to be 14 and pregnant. I have no idea what it's like to live in a home where my family might disown me. I have no idea what it's like to have no support surrounding me while thinking I maybe can't do this. I have no idea what it's like to be raped and carry a child from that experience. I have no idea. And, most importantly, I don't get to judge you. I get to tell you that there are other options and I think you'd be a wonderful mother. I get to hold your hand and love you, no matter what.

Anyway, there was a group of girls on the campground shuttle, all of them wearing the "God hates when you kill his babies" shirt while discussing the great sin of abortion and I decided it would be prudent to turn around and join the conversation.

I should have prefaced this story with: this is what not to do.

Our conversation went about like this:

Me: "How can you wear that judgmental bullshit?"

Girl 1: "Do you support abortion?"

Me: "I think anyone who has been through that process has had enough to deal with without being damned by a t-shirt most likely made in a sweatshop."

Girl 2: "You don't know anything, people who have abortions go to hell!"

Girls: "Yah."

Me: "You're idiots."

Girl 1: "I bet you had an abortion. You're going to burn in hell for eternity."

Me: *punches girl 1 in the nose*

I know what you're thinking, "Way to tell that girl what for!" But I was just as guilty as those girls. I didn't let what I stood for speak for itself, I was led by what I was against.

Here's the thing, the world has gotten a fat dose of what we (Christians) are against. From the Crusades to bad t-shirts to the Westboro Baptist Church - the world is like "We got it, Christianity, you are against things. Passionately against them." We have drawn so many lines in the sand, we are starting to look like a bad piece of modern art.

But what are we for???

"Oh how we love our religious yokes, not for what they communicate about God, but what they say about us. This is the kind of people we are. We say "no" when everyone else says "yes." We don't do that. We don't watch that. We don't vote that way. We don't go there. We don't include them. But God's idea of a fast is less about what we're against and more about what we are for.

Is this not the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter - when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? Isaiah 58:6-7"

Jen Hatmaker, 7 (and the Bible)

As you've seen, I am guilty. My finger might be pointed in the other direction, but that doesn't make me any more right. While I should be setting an example for my fellow Christians, I am too busy informing them that they aren't being loving, caring, forgiving, etc. enough. But what if I took all that time to just be loving, caring, forgiving? What if I made it less about what is wrong with Christianity and more about what I can do right? What am I for?

What are any of us for?

To A New Mama

My sweet baby boy is now one; from breathing his first breaths, saying his first words, taking his first steps, throwing his first tantrums - it has been quite a year.

For this occasion, I wrote the Roranicus Rex, Destroyer of Worlds, a letter. But that is private. So instead, I will share with you what I would write to myself, one year ago...

Rory with his first Gelato Cone.

Darling and Blessed Woman,

This is it. You have been patient, at least, you were patient sometimes. You have have endured. You have been tried and tested; physically, emotionally, psychologically - some tests were easier than others. But this is it. That moment you have waited for. You, beautiful woman, are a Mama.

The little one you carry in your arms is your beloved child and you are his Mama. I know it doesn't feel real and you cannot believe that he is actually yours, but believe me? He is. Write down these moments, photograph them, but mostly just live in them. For as cliche as it is, your child will grow faster than you can grasp and you will never again have this second, this millisecond, with him.

Mama, you will get advice - so much advice. Some of it will be good, but most of it will be nonsense. You are the mama now, you make the decisions you feel are right. Trust your instincts. People will tell you that they "love this stage" and you will stare, open mouthed and covered in exhaustion from the night before. But be gracious, someday you too will be coveting the days before. Say "thank you" and move along. Time is the rosiest pair of glasses. Dear one, sometimes it will not be advice, but criticism. Know whose words to take to heart, and whose to let pass over you. There may be friends lost over such words, but there may be friendships strengthened through them as well. Keep heart.

Speaking of advice... Drink water. Carry that water bottle with you wherever you go, along with a string cheese. You won't realize you're hungry or thirsty until it is too late. And then you will be tired, grumpy, and still needing to feed your tiny one regardless.

Trust me when I say, it is okay to be frustrated. Sometimes you will not want to wake up at 3am. Sometimes it will be all you can do to not just put your fingers in your ears and bury your head in the covers. Sometimes, you will do those things. Say a quick prayer for patience, for calm, for love. Because it will not always be easy to just pour out love on a screaming little one, especially as he gets older. Practice doing it now. It is normal to get upset, it is normal to be frustrated, even angry! Don't blame yourself. If you need to take a moment away? Take one. That's what husbands are for, after all.

You will be overwhelmed, Mama, by the love you feel for this small inscrutable human. Tell him. Tell him everyday. Show him. Especially on the days you don't feel like it, especially on the days he yells at you, especially when he bites you, especially when he throws his head into his hand and screams because he cannot communicate.

Put down your phone, get off the internet, turn off the television. Spend time doing whatever it is he wants to do. Whether that is to tear all the books off the book shelf and hand them to you one by one so he can climb onto it, or run around outside eating the lettuce out of your garden. Encourage him to play by himself, but always be there to engage when he wants to play with you. Because there will be a day when he is no longer interested in asking you to join his fun. Show him how to help you do the things your doing, because he loves to do laundry with you and drawing is fun!

You were made for this, you were made to do this. It doesn't mean it will all come naturally, it doesn't mean it won't be so difficult it brings you to tears - it simply means that it can be done and you can do it. And yes, someone else might seem to be better at it, but they aren't you. They were not made perfectly for this child in this moment, you were. He will look like his daddy, but have your eyes. He will be strong willed and full to the brim of emotion! Just like his mama.

There is so much I could tell you, sweet new Mama, but I think I'll let you find the rest out for yourself. Pay attention, there will be so much!

With infinite love,
Malia

The Comeback

You may or may not remember that for my 24th birthday, I created a Quarter List - 25 things I wanted to have accomplished/be heading toward by the time I turned 25. I think the list was and is a good idea. But I may possibly have changed my mind on several of the items... and already accomplished others!

4 Build furniture rather than purchase it. We have remained tried and true on this point. Our pretty bathroom counter is almost finished (we were out of the state for essentially two months, give me a break) and we have much pine and other fun woods to create other furniture for ourselves - as well as for SKATEBOARDS. Yah. My husband is essentially a Superhero.

5 Stick to a budget. So, we have not done this. But we were all over the place for two months (figuratively as well as literally), so my hope is to get a budget set up and in place by September... look at all that realistic planning from the girl who can't keep track of a planner.

6 Size 4 Jeans. This girl? Wearing size 3 jeans and size Small leggings, WHAT UP?! Let me be totally honest, and say that my jeans fit in a snug manner and I am by no means in the greatest shape of my life. But mostly I am just really proud of myself! In two weeks it will be one year after baby and I fit in the same size jeans as I did in High School! That's awesome. I have to work hard at sticking to it though - the days of easy metabolism are kind of gone. Although, I will admit I have a strangely large amount of gelato in my diet... joy!

7 Sew clothes rather than purchase them. Nope, haven't done it. I have a stack sitting on my sewing machine that need love and I just haven't gotten to it. Maybe once Summer calms the frick down.

8 Continue to grow hair out.

Changed my mind! I now have a mohawk, thanks to Nikki at The Loft, and I FREAKING LOVE IT. I will try to get more pictures up as I try new things with it... Reasoning for changing my mind? One: my son likes to pull hair when he is upset or tired and ow. Two: You need a lot of time in order to really do anything with long hair where as this took me 5 minutes. Three: After I had Rory, I suddenly had this overwhelming sense of doubt that I had to sacrifice who I was in order to "become a mom," and while I whole heartedly believe in sacrificial living, I do not think that is what I was doing. I saw the image of what a mom is supposed to look like and it upset me that I did not resemble it. Having long hair wasn't the whole story, but I think I finally remembered and got comfortable with the fact that I am still that woman who loves pretty pearls and mohawks, wears gauged earrings and sun dresses, believes in minimal make-up and maximum sass - all while now having a baby on my hip.

9. Blog twice a week. Ha. Ha. I'll work on it.

14 Kiddo Number Two. We are not there yet, but I think it's nearing. There is a post-pregnancy period where you want want want another baby, then you don't ever want another baby, and then you come full circle to where you're comfortable with the idea, but when the time is right. And right now? We are just too busy to even think about it. Although I will say, I bought a very cute dress for a little girl the other day...

16 Harvest our own honey. We expanded our hive in June and will maybe try to harvest a screen or two in September before snuggling the bees into a comfortable place for the winter. Our bees are doing pretty well and we love them.

19 Second Income. Like I've said, we got really busy there for awhile, but I think we have created several avenues to maybe start an Etsy shop... I'm pretty excited to tell you about it once it's a reality!

20 Homeschooling. I'm ankle deep in the craziness that is a homeschool curriculum for my little one, I just have to make the time to really dive off into the deep end...

25. One Year Album. This is number one on my priority list right now, as Rory will be a One Year Old in less than two weeks!!!!!!!!!!!!! <<< Craziness. I'm trying to pool together photos and other things in order to get it all together. He already loves opening gifts, so I know he will love his birthday (we are just going to wrap empty boxes because, let's face it, he doesn't care about toys as much as the box).

Thanks for all the love and support these last two months, it's been great. We are close to being able to send out our letter - make sure you let me know if you'd like a physical copy or an email copy or whatever you want! I will try to make dreams come true, but no promises - this isn't Disneyland...

Or is it?