Suppose you were asked question: If you could grab only two beauty items for a weekend away, what would you toss in your makeup bag?
Tough one, right?
I might answer like this: “Have you seen my makeup bag? It’s been missing for months!”
Okay, so I’m not much for getting dolled up. I do, however, know what I’d grab.
Over the course of three weeks, we’ll host three different sets of out-of-town guests.
Whenever we have visitors–after cleaning the sheets and straightening up the house, of course–my mind goes to one thing: food.
Options for good food in Nashville seem endless, but we must choose wisely when all we’ve got is a weekend to impress our guests. Sometimes, all we have is one meal.
If you know me, you’ve probably heard me laugh. That’s because I don’t hold back. I’m not stingy with my laughs and I can go from a chuckle to a guffaw in seconds. I’m an appreciator of funny.
More and more, though, I see the value in shared laughter.
You know, laughing with friends and family–people who get you and love you. This is not only a joy, it’s a basic human need. Meeting this need, however, requires a not-so-basic step: vulnerability.
Vulnerability is tough. And, honestly, something I shy away from.
It’s why I dance with abandon in front of my sisters but not in public. Who wants to see a 2×4 wiggle? It’s why you may talk to your spouse about what you’re going through but answer, “Great!” to the dreaded, “How are you?” when asked by a close friend.
This is a post of confessions.
Confession number 1: We eat most meals leaning over our coffee table from the couch. This is despite the fact that we own a dining room table.
Confession number 2: Moving Wednesday dinners to a real table and sitting in chairs just started in January. Calling it a tradition is a bit of a stretch.
Confession number 3: I excuse the above confessions because our kitchen lives in the basement and our dining room is carpeted.
Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…
Baby bath time is my favorite.
The squishy skin, curious eyes, kicking and splashing–it’s loads of fun. The best part, though, is when you scoop your little one out of the tub, wrap him up in a towel and listen as he coos in your arms.
Moments like these should be put on pause.
And so, one night after bath time, I sat with Henry on the couch and stared at his round face surrounded by a green terrycloth frog. It was just the two of us and it was wonderful.
Until he pooped on me.
This, friends, is motherhood.
When people ask what it’s really like having a new baby, this is what I want to tell them:
What’s not to love about celebrating love? Flowers brighten a wintry room, hearts are the right kind of sappy, and–let’s be honest–I never require a special occasion to indulge in dessert.
Only I expect more–from myself, that is. I want to love year-round.
I want to be a better daughter, sister, friend, mom and wife. I want to love with abandon and with purpose. St. Therese of Lisieux said, “It isn’t enough to love; we must prove it.” A beautiful truth. But how?
Sometimes I get stuck between desire and action. I’m still learning after all.
So, on this Valentine’s day, I asked six women to discuss their favorite words on the subject. What follows is relatable and inspiring. I hope you’ll join the conversation!