on becoming type a

i have a wonderful husband. he is loving and helpful and caring.

he also has a massive case of add. like, lots of ritalin add.

up until about a year ago, i would not have described myself as an organized or efficient individual.

i have heard of cases in which a person loses one important sense (like vision) and their hearing becomes so much stronger in order to compensate. because i have chosen to tie my life to this man in such a way that the two become one, his sweet, (mostly) endearing lack of organization has created a multitasking monster in me.

this afternoon, i pumped while unpacking groceries. i regularly grade papers while eating lunch, plan curriculum at recess, and clean the kitchen while cooking dinner.

life is a bit crazy for us. i am now a mom. a parent. i have a daughter. (can you tell it still sounds new to me?) my daughter is beautiful and sweet. she has emerged from the “fourth trimester” just in time for me to return to my regularly scheduled job as a third-grade teacher and graduate student.

i became pregnant last year just as i had decided to return to graduate school full-time in addition to my teaching career and working in the afterschool program. yes, i am crazy. yes, it was hard, but to be completely honest, i’m extremely thankful for that time. i learned how to do fourteen things at once. i learned how to manage my time, prioritize the important things, and say no to everything outside of the important. i also learned my limits. i pushed myself too hard sometimes, and had to learn to rest.

when i am at work, these new skills are invaluable. i used to be the last one done with any task, and now i’m much more efficient. but when i come home to my sweet baby girl, i had a learn a new skill.

i am learning to breathe.

these are things i tell myself often: 

it’s ok that there are toys all over the floor (and my daughter can’t even put them there). 

it’s ok that there is clean and dirty laundry in literally every room in our house. 

it’s ok that our yard is the only one in the neighborhood that isn’t raked. like ever.

my new type a self is learning (read: has not yet mastered the concept) it’s more than ok.

my beautiful sweet potato is asleep on my chest. i fight daily that anxiety to run around and get things done. she has caused me to stop and slow down because i literally cannot get up when she is sleeping. i can stare at the dirty floor or my daughter's chubby cheeks. that floor isn't going anywhere, but soon my sweet potato will.

New Year's Eve Post. In February.

2012 was not my year. At this point last year, I was happy only because I was kissing the past 365 days goodbye. The year was marked with some dark times, and it turns out you can live on less money and more heartache than you thought possible. It turns out there isn’t a quota on setbacks or grief. I realize 2012 was more difficult for many, many people in the world. If I were to compare, our trials were not so significant. But when you are living in the trials, perspective is hard to maintain. Either way, I rang in the new year with much less sobriety than the year contained.

Today, I am typing this as my baby girl sleeps peacefully on my chest. Fairly soon into the year, I became pregnant with my daughter, whom shall henceforth be referred to as The Sweet Potato.

I have never been more aware of the passing of a week than I was this year. Each week when you are pregnant or have a newborn brings a new development.  Many developments were exciting (She has fingernails! She can lift her head!) but many brought fear (Will there be a heartbeat? Will she make it to term?) I have never known fear like I have as a mother. This is a whole new ballgame of anxiety. Yes, I should keep calm. But I am acutely aware of the incredible responsibility of keeping this little girl alive.

This year, I am learning to trust. I have felt like Wonder Woman, thinking “I carried this baby. I have fed this baby to her chunky-cheek status with my body.” But in reality, every heartbeat and breath is a gift from the Lord. As much as I would like to say it was me, it wasn’t. She was formed by a loving God in the secret of my womb, before I even knew of her existence.

While there is no quota on setbacks, it turns out there is no quota on joy. I have learned about the amazing providence of the Lord. He has provided financially, yes, but He has also provided immeasurable joy. He truly has restored unto us the years that the locusts have eaten, as described in the book of Joel. (I even was reminded of that verse the day before my husband, Joel, was offered a new job this year).

God wasn’t absent last year. He didn’t forget about us or delight in the heartache, but I can now see His hand in a way I didn’t last year. My vision was cloudy. I can see a little more clearly now. 2012 was not a cup of total bitterness, just as there were not-so-sweet times in 2013. But now I can see that in Him, my cup can be full.