Joy Leanne

Standing in the kitchen doing bad yoga poses while waiting for the tea kettle to whistle. Staring at the tips of my fingers because the rest of the room seems to be spinning. And my brother finding me there later that night, legs pulled up staring at my bare feet on the ugly tile. I know I went in there for a reason but I can’t think of what it was when he asks. It’s where I do my best thinking though, so it only makes sense that it is there that   I find the strength to message her. I pray she hears the heart behind those words and I go to bed.  My oldest is up sick… sweating and shaking and I eventually give up on sleep and hold her till she is better and sleeping. It’s the warmest night we have had in weeks but I am cold. Deep down cold. Socks and sweat pants and two blankets can’t stop the shaking.  In the morning things seem less scary. As my brother put it, I no longer hear the things going bump in the night. I light a candle because it seems right and I breathe prayers all day,

                                           I am pretty sure we all shed tears today. Over reading home work. Over nap times. Over the inability to crawl.  Over other people's pain. Over head aches. Over teething. Over our own restlessness.  But in the end we are all here. And all together. And all healthy.  And that's all that matters. 

Anyone who knows me personally (or has even just talked to me over facebook) can probably tell you that I tend toward anxiety. I get overwhelmed, over excited, and over stimulated very easily. I am not sure how I have been like this, but I know it goes back to at least college if not high school or younger. I wish I would say it get’s better with age, but it seems to be getting more and more pronounced.   The worst part? I see the same tendencies in my oldest. Abi is overwhelmed and spins out of control. In a letter I wrote to her on her 6 th birthday I promised that, in order to help her learn coping techniques I would first work on finding some for myself.  One of the things that send both of us into a full blown melt down is a messy house/bedroom. She doesn’t particular care if her room is a mess but if I ask her to clean it she is a puddle, and (though she doesn’t realize it) she is far calmer and centered when her room isn’t in chaos. For both of us the problem comes when things

Looking Back  I keep trying to write a "Year in Review" post. For whatever reason it just hasn't been easy. I am not sure why. It's just hasn't been flowing. So, what do I do when my brain isn't working creatively? I makes lists... So.. I will remember 2013 as the year... * Tacy was born *Josh and I celebrated 7 years of marriage and... *Did something we had been talk about for 8 years and went on a cruise *Abi started Kindergarten *Maddie started pre-school *Fletcher, Emily, and Ezra moved back to VA and into our basement *We learned the reality and beauty of doing life with some other people in a intimate some times messy way *Tuesday Coffee Dates with three women I consider to be among my dearest friends *Aunt Lila Died *Stephen Died *Blu Died *We received far to many text messages about loved ones in the hospital  *I put myself out there and got to reap the rewards of taking a chance *We asked ourselves hard questions about who we were as a couple and a fa