"Yes" when I can, "No" when it counts.

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Three years ago I posted this pic of 2½  year old Charlie Grace on Instagram with the caption:

Working on Saying YES to her this summer.

Yes to shoes on the wrong feet.

Yes to running through a random sprinkler on our walk.

Yes to two Hello Kitty bandaids instead of one.

#YESwhenIcan #NOwhenItcounts

It was the beginning of Summer and we were on an after-dinner walk with daddy and baby Will {who was a new little visitor in our home at the time. cue ugly cry because time flies and he called me mama spontaneously this week}. This photo perfectly captures Charlie’s joy; but when I look at it, the thing I remember most is how much stress this moment caused me and how hard it was for me to say ‘yes’ and allow her to run through that sprinkler. That probably sounds crazy to you, but hear me out.
I have an anxious personality. My mind automatically jumps to the worst case scenario and the ‘what ifs’. What if she slips and falls in the puddles from the sprinklers and knocks out her front teeth?  Wearing her shoes on the wrong feet will cause her to have lifelong gait problems! Giving her two bandaids when she only needs one is teaching her wastefulness! and on and on. That’s the way my brain works. If it can go wrong in any way, I’ve already predicted it and now my answer is ‘no’.
I wouldn’t label myself as a helicopter parent, per se {and you might be rolling your eyes and calling me a liar at that statement}, but I totally own up to having hovering and protecting tendencies. Ideally, I’d like my parenting style {and CB’s} to be somewhere in the middle between Helicopter and Free Range, and we’re still working on finding that nice balance. I need to let go of some of those hovering/protecting tendencies because I don’t want my anxieties to negatively shape the way my kiddos see the world. The more effort I put into preventing them from experiencing anything bad or hurtful, the more I rob them of chances to build coping skills, confidence, and problem solving abilities.
In order to make sure I’m not micromanaging them and I’m allowing them to try things out without my cloud of anxiety hovering over them, I follow a simple rule each Summer:
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YES it’s fine if you have another popsicle.
OF COURSE you can wear your high heels and Batman mask to the store.
SURE you can take all the cushions and pillows off the couch and make an obstacle course the likes of which even American Ninja Warrior can’t compete.
YOU BETCHA you can paint your own nails, doncha know.
ABSOLUTELY you can read 12 books before bed.

{that is… read them to yourself. Mommy’s max book count is 2 per night}

YUP, I’ll let you guys sit in that giant 9 seater Target cart that looks like a car and you think is fun because you get your own steering wheel. I can’t wait to get in some good cardio pushing you all around.
FER SHER you can use all the pompoms, googly eyes, and glue on one square inch of construction paper that will eventually be thrown away, doncha know.
ROGER THAT on the ‘doing your own hair’ thing. It’s going to look amazing.
10-4. You can use your kid watering can to drown all my plants and wash all the mulch down to the gutter.
NO,  YOU MAY NOT CUT YOUR OWN HAIR. I draw the ‘yes’ line at scissors + hair.
We’re not saying ‘yes’ so our kiddos will like us and think of us as friends. We say ‘yes’ when we can so our ‘no’ responses are meaningful. If our kiddos come to us with requests expecting and assuming an immediate refusal because we always say ‘no’, they might stop asking and instead start doing without permission. The respectful communication lines we’ve built might start to close.
I will never forget the time in 7th grade that my mom gave me a ‘yes’ response to my crazy, ridiculous request. Back in the day when I was in 7th grade I had braces and glasses and bangs. Let me clarify: I had bangs, but I also have curly hair, so instead of a nice fringe bang that hung down and framed my cute face in a hella fresh way, they sort of stuck out like a little tangled tumbleweed on my forehead. So while we all had our issues in middle school…. I had it bad y’all. For some crazy reason, it was cool at my school {and particularly on my bus} to make your own fun-dip and bring it to school. That is, mix sugar and Kool-Aid packets together.  DON’T ASK ME HOW THE MIDDLE SCHOOL MIND WORKS. I was one once just as you were but I DO NOT KNOW. I can’t help you understand your middle schooler. Anyway, I guess it was like drugs for the kids who were cool but not willing to get mixed up in the hardcore drugs and get kicked off the football team. So….. DIY fun dip. Let’s call it Fip {fake fun dip}. I wanted my own Fip so badly, but in my 7th grade mind I just knew my mom would think it was ridiculous and wasteful and I shouldn’t care what other kids think of me and yada yada. So I tried making some in secret, but I guess I made a lot of noise climbing onto the kitchen counters to dig for the Kool-Aid packs and she caught me. But, y’all, she didn’t embarrass me or even really ask probing questions as to why I wanted it. She said YES. She even gave me a cute little Tupperware container to carry it in. I was all that and a bag of chips on the bus that week and I still remember that ‘yes’ to this day.
To me, instead of just hearing ‘yes’, I heard “I see that this is something important to you, so it’s important to me too”. Such a simple event, but it really strengthened the roots of my relationship with my mom. Our foundation of respect became solid because she respected me. In turn, I was more willing to respect her decisions as my parent, even if they were a ‘no’.
This post might not strike you as meaningful if your parenting style is on the other end of the spectrum as mine, where ‘yes’ comes easy to you and your kids are living their best life knowing you’ll let them do their own thing. But maybe you’re like me and you keep a tight reign on every experience and let your worries and need for control guide your decision making. Let’s keep in mind, if all our responses are ‘no’, that word begins to lose some weight. When we save ‘no’ for when it truly matters, it gains meaning and respect.
It’s a true balancing act, but so important for us as parents to find that ‘just right’ relationship between protecting our kiddos and giving them freedom to experience things and make their own decisions, no matter their age. It starts this summer…. because baby steps. Join me! #TheSummerOfYes
Ait, I’m gonna bounce.

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Cancer Is Pretty Much The Worst.

On Mother’s Day weekend we found out my mom has cancer.
Just forcing my fingers to type that sentence was a feat. I wish I could erase that sentence and make it go away, but that’s not how cancer works.
I’ve never experienced anything like this; it causes a specific kind of pain in your heart. This information is HEAVY and hard to make sense of. It manifests itself as an actual physical burden, pressing on you. I couldn’t breathe. I could barely force out the words to tell my husband when I got home, and it took me a few more days after that to be able to speak it out loud to anyone else.
When she told us, she also said “But you know, I’m fine. I’m okay with this”. And I wanted to scream ‘You’re NOT fine. It is NOT OKAY”. Maybe I did yell it? I don’t remember. And then, I began to try and process it. My mind still, even two weeks later, seems to just be kind of frozen. I don’t even know how to pray; fortunately, God hears every word and thought, whether whispered or sobbed. He does not turn from us when we cry out.
We still don’t have all the information yet, and because of that I probably can’t answer many of your questions. About two months ago, the surgeon performing an outpatient surgery on my mom’s abdomen discovered something he couldn’t quite label. Our nephrologist stepped in and didn’t waste any time in getting more information and second opinions, as well as referring my mom to a colleague who confirmed a diagnosis of Peritoneal cancer. Peritoneal cancer is rare. The peritoneal cavity is essential a special lining in the abdomen that contains many of the body’s organs: liver, gallbladder, pancreas, colon, stomach, intestines, appendix, etc….. so many organs and types, I’ve had trouble reading up on all the information.
At this point we have more questions than answers. Biopsies were performed last week to help determine the possible location of origin of the cancer.  We should have a treatment plan in place by the end of next week. What we do know: her cancer is late stage (meaning it is not contained to one location any more and has spread), but it is low-grade (meaning it is slow moving right now). We also know treatment will involve intensive surgery to remove every organ and piece of organ possible, then a chemo wash.
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My mom is a crazy strong woman and I want to keep her crazy strong. I want to keep her, period, but I’m feeling pretty helpless. She’s facing a huge war against this cancer; but she’s not alone. Our entire family is standing with her, prepping to fight alongside her in this battle. And behind our team? We’ve got you guys. Her squad. Our friends and family who are rallying around her, ready to lend a hand where needed.
And God, He is our rock. My mother’s life is built on His foundation.  God can mend and heal. He has proven to us over and over that He is capable. We’re praying fervently that He does heal her. God, please mend her. My prayer is absolutely selfish; I need my mama. I’m sad and pretty mad and kind of a puddle of feelings right now.
How is my mom doing, you ask? Um…. pretty much ready to rock and continue being a reflection of God’s love and grace and light to everyone she comes into contact with. So, no change?  #teammom
Want to rally with us? Follow her story, get updates, and encourage her via her Facebook page: Kelly’s Tribe
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For Every Mom

Mamas. I see you. All of you.
healthy mamas. sick mamas. single mamas. working mamas. foster mamas. grandma mamas. lonely mamas. birth mamas. teacher mamas. happily-married mamas. teen mamas. heartbroken mamas. brave mamas. aunt mamas. grieving mamas. elderly mamas. hope-to-be mamas. soon-to-be mamas. desperate-to-be mamas. aren’t-able-to-hold-their-baby mamas. ashamed mamas. adoptive mamas. extra-needs-kiddo mamas. overwhelmed mamas. sleep-deprived-brand-new mamas. fierce mamas. struggling-to-bond-with-their-baby mamas. social-worker mamas. NICU mamas. Neighbor mamas. Soccer mamas.
All who mother in one capacity or another are honored this Mother’s Day. Each one of us walks a different motherhood path, and it is absolutely necessary for us to approach one another with love and grace at the forefront.  Some of us mamas may be struggling this weekend. Possibly because our mama path involves heartache or painful experiences.
This weekend, Will’s first mama is on my mind and heart. To be completely honest, she is always on my mind. I think when two women mother the same human they are connected in the most unique, heart-binding way. I can’t ever express to her how grateful I am that she chose life for her son. I don’t want to share too many details, because that is her life and her story to tell, but I know she LOVES William and not having the chance to raise him was not her choice. She is God’s creation. He loves her. He grieves when she grieves. So I love her and I grieve when she grieves. I know she is grieving this weekend and I am heartbroken over that fact. It is an impossible situation to bring clarity to and to process in your mind and heart: I am totally obsessed with and completely in love with my son, whose first mother is also completely in love with him yet doesn’t get to see him or hold his chubby hand or kiss his squishy cheeks. Yet together, we are motherhood.
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So let’s not assume all mothers feel loved and appreciated this mother’s day. Throw LOVE around like confetti. Be a bringer of grace to those who need it. Look around your neighborhood, family, school, church, and workplace. Who can you identify that might not be celebrating this mother’s day with joy and cheer? Wade into their grief or sadness or shame to meet them. You don’t have to have the perfect words to say and it’s best not to come crashing in with suggestions and solutions, simply acknowledge that they are seen and loved.
We see you mamas! We know today is a hard day but we acknowledge you and your struggle, and more importantly, God sees you and your struggle. He is the HOPE dealer. The JOY bringer. The SHAME eraser. The HEART healer. and you may feel like you are done with breathing, but God is literally the LIFE breather.  And if you’re feeling like your experience as a mama, in whatever capacity you’ve performed, is more like a #momfail rather than a #momwin, rest assured that there is nothing you can do or have done to you that can wreck your life so badly that God can’t still mend you and use you in beautiful ways.
Every mama, I see you.
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Thirty-Three Sounds Good To Me!

Last Friday was my birthday. Yes, it’s taken me 7 days to write this post. don’t blog-shame me. Maybe if I could get my brain and my body to get on the same page I’d be able to sit down and get something accomplished in an efficient way… but so far that hasn’t been a perk of my new kidney. lame.
Last year, thirty-two felt an awful lot like thirty-one. No big.
This year, thirty-three feels completely different. Only 365 days have passed, but it feels more like 365 years have passed. and I’m on a new planet. and in a new body. with a new identity. and all because of a new kidney.
Since my kidney transplant a little over four months ago, I’ve experienced so much change. Emotional change, mental change, spiritual change, and of course, physical change. All that is to be expected, of course, but you can’t ever truly prepare yourself for something like that.
A common misconception about organ transplants (a misconception even I’d subconsciously subscribed to) is that once a person has receive the transplant, things will return to ‘normal’ and they’ll be ‘cured’. Unfortunately, transplantation isn’t a cure for kidney disease; it’s only one of the treatment methods. The alternative is dialysis. I’ve discovered it’s like trading one set of issues for another. And I’m slowly wading through these new ‘issues’ {you can read more about them here}. They’re all generally minor things (hair loss, mood swings, insomnia, hand tremors, weight gain,  skin issues, etc.). Totally manageable and itty-bitty in the grand scheme of things.
One of hardest for me to deal with? The face rounding caused by the Prednisone. Some people refer to this as ‘moon face’ {because your face gets as round as the moon. no joke}.  I knew going in to this process that that would be something I’d struggle with. Let’s call it what it is: straight up vanity.  Rounder isn’t any less beautiful. I know this and I preach this {even though my body shape is more of the twig variety}. I know round is beautiful because I’ve often been jealous of other women who have curves. But I’ve been struggling horribly with this. It’s mostly that my face isn’t my face anymore. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see me. And that is WEIRD! What if my husband doesn’t like this face? He married a slightly different one. So far though, his only comment has been “you look healthy”. meh, I’ll take it.
I hadn’t realized I was subconsciously letting my struggle with my ’round face’ show outwardly until my five year old Charlie and I were taking silly selfies on Snapchat {like you do}. She made an offhand comment that she liked it better “when I smile with my teeth”. She went right back to doing her bunny ear pose, but that comment stuck with me for days! I hadn’t even realized I’d changed the way I smile over the past few months, simply because my face was rounder and I felt self conscious about it. The reality is everything is different and most of this new Ashley is here to stay, so I need to hop on board and ‘make it work’! {insert Tim Gunn voiceover from Project Runway.  You can tack on a ‘frankly I’m concerned’ just for fun…}
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Regardless of my inner strife, my birthday came just like it does every year. I’ve never been big on celebrating birthdays. I’m content to just let them pass; which I guess isn’t the norm because every time I responded truthfully when asked what I was doing for my birthday {which was nothing} people were shocked. Chris was determined to make me celebrate at least a little, though, so we did it my way:
The morning of my birthday I met a friend for coffee, then we popped in to Target to ‘just get diapers for Will’.  Of course I came out with all kinds of things but… happy birthday to me!
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Then Will and I ventured out to the DMV to renew my license. I could have done it online, but I was desperate for a new photo! Last time I took a license photo the ‘no smiling rule’ was in effect here in VA and, you guys, I HAVE to smile in photos. If I don’t smile I look like a Disney movie villain. It ain’t natural. Will spent a lot of time crawling around on the floor, dragging his monkey behind him, and pointing to anything interesting he saw. like beards. dogs. women with beards and dogs. and I allowed it. honestly, the fact that he’s mostly non-verbal is a blessing in those situations. I’d just pretend he was pointing at something else and distract him with a cookie.
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For dinner we went to Rita’s. It was a total parenting win and we had no regrets.
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Then later that evening I was able to meet up with other foster and adoptive mamas to laugh and cry and eat yummy food. It’s a beautiful thing when women support women, mamas support mamas, and we can surround one another with a tribe to call on and fall on when in need. When that happens, mom’s win… but more importantly, families and children win, because they reap the benefits of having strong, healthy foster mamas in their corner.
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The next morning, we had breakfast with my family. Then on Sunday, Chris took me out for lunch {I pretty much just ate chips and guac}. Totally my kind of birthday weekend.
I’ve been so spoiled lately and have so much to be thankful for. I’m working on embracing thirty-three and the new Ashley; one who smiles with her teeth more often.
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