Let It Burn

When my husband and I were dating, he would drive all the way from Upstate New York to Indiana, then to Oklahoma. After his very first road trip to the bustling metropolis of Oklahoma City he made plenty of jokes about how backwards Oklahoma is- you know, the usual “So do you guys wear shoes down there?” one-liners. But one thing that struck him as particularly funny was a road sign he had seen on I-44 onthe stretch between Tulsa and Oklahoma City. It read “Do Not Drive Into Smoke”.
“Why on earth would someone need to be told not to drive into the smoke? And why would there be smoke on the highway in the first place?!” He joked.  I explained that we live in a state that has a high danger of fire during certain times of the year. I went on to explain that occasionally, landowners purposely light fires. He looked at me like I was crazy.

It had never occurred tome that maybe other states didn’t have yearly bouts with wild and grass fires.  And surely everyone set their land on fire annually, right? Maybe not. I explained to him that many landowners would set fire to their own land and let it burn very slowly in what’s called a “controlled burn”.  This process kills off all the dead grass and allows nutrients to reach the soul. This makes for lush, thick grass and fertile farming soil for the next planting season.  It makes perfect sense. Sometimes you have to set fire to something and let it burn before new things can grow… So it is with our souls.

Often we begin to neglec tour proverbial gardens. Vines grow here and there. Thorns spring up. We ignore them until these pesky, unwanted weeds begin to choke the rest of the garden. They begin to take over our lives until there is nothing left but a dry, dead, pile of twisted briars and thorns.  It’s too much to handle with clippers. You can’t simply prune it back as you once could before. These weeds threaten the future survival of any living things that could potentially grow and drastic measures are required.  So finally you take a match- one small match, and drop it into the tangled mess that your life has become.  Slowly-  or maybe not so slowly- the treacherous weeds begin to burn away.  The heat is intense- stinging your eyes and nose, singeing your clothes- but you allow it to burn on and on until there is nothing left but dust… For a fleeting moment you begin to think you’ve made a mistake…how could anything possibly hope to grow here in this barren, scorched wasteland? But God is once again atwork… He makes all things new… and thisis the moment you begin again.

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us…

When is the last time youlet God set your heart on fire?

xo,
Chels

Vintage Baby: The Shoe Department

Somebunny got her momma’s shoe addiction… Check out the fantastic array of vintage shoes that this girl has!

Pink vintage sandals, alphabet tennis shoes, moccasins, T-straps, hand-knit booties, and even a pair of tap shoes! I’m telling you, all she needs is a pair of gold sparkly TOMS to match my favorite pair, and she’s set for life!

xo,

Chels

Vintage Baby: Play time!

Last time I showed you a few pretty frocks from Vesper’s Grandma- dresses that she definitely won’t be having playtime in! But these fun outfits are going to get worn to death!

The watermelon romper was mine when I was a baby. It was a favorite of my mom’s, and I am SO excited to see Vesper rolling around in it! The light blue romper and Turquoise Zebra overalls were both thrift store finds. The vintage stuff is just WAY more fun! (p.s. see that beautiful quilt? It belonged to Ryan’s grandfather when he was a baby! Can you believe what great shape it’s in?!)

Another thrift store find- cute blue dress! It will probably be worn as a tunic over jeans or leggings, but it certainly is adorable!

Next week I’ll give you a peek at Vesper’s shoe collection. That girl has it made in the shoe department already!

xo,

Chels

Love Letters

Have I mentioned that my mother is an amazing artist? Because she is. She whipped up these letters for my nephew, Shepherd, last year.

And this year, Vesper was presented with her letters! I’m in love with the colors and characters in these letters.

My favorite is the little panda <3

I am still trying to find the perfect place for them in her nursery. I want them somewhere where everyone can see them!

xo,

Chels

Love to Keep You Warm

As you might have guessed, our Little Bird spends a lot of time sleeping. She loves to keep warm with this blanket, made by her Grandma A (Ryan’s mom).

It’s so soft, and the colors compliment her nursery so perfectly. It’s so special to have pieces like this. Maybe some day she will keep it and give it to her daughter! <3

xo,

Chels

Two. Months. Old.

Little Sparrow,

How in the world did I let TWO whole months go by so quickly? You’re growing like crazy and I love every minute of it! Well, maybe not the minutes when you’re pooping on me, but even those have a special charm. We learn each other more and more each and every day. It’s a dance, my love. We have to learn it slowly, and stumble a few times before we get it right. And as soon as we get the steps, the rhythm changes. But my goodness, what a beautiful melody.

I love being your momma. You are so beautiful inside and out.  You started smiling about two weeks ago- just in time for Momma to return to work. Bummer. But you still save plenty of smiles just for me. Those are my favorite moments, Little Bird- when we’re all alone in the dark, quiet house eating that dreadfully early morning feeding and you stop, look me straight in the eye, and grin a big, gummy smile! And then all the milk runs out of your mouth and all over me and we both smell like spoiled yogurt for the rest of the day, but that’s okay, because I love you. You still hate getting your clothes changed, and you’re not a fan of your carseat, but we’re working on it. Here’s to another month of growing, playing, laughing, learning, and dancing the dance.

All my love,

Momma

Vintage Baby: Frilly Frocks

Vesper is quite a lucky young lady. She has a closet and dresser full of brand new adorable outfits that were given to her before she was even born! But it’s probably no surprise that some of my favorites are her vintage pieces! Her Grandma A gave her a few lovely dresses that belonged to her as a child.

Aren’t they wonderful?! My favorite is the little pink one with hearts all over it. So sweet! I can’t wait until she can fit into them!

xo,

Chels

**RDR CLEARANCE EVENT**

It’s time to make room for Spring stock! Shop the Red Dirt Revival Clearance Event and getchoself a deal!

xo,

Chels

Motherhood Lessons: More than a Mom

Motherhood Lessons is a regular series of posts shared on Mom’s Talk Network – every day lessons shared by real moms.
I’m not very good at balancing things. You’d think that years of dance experience would give me some semblance of balance and grace, but no. I am a total klutz. Multi-tasking isn’t my strong suit. I need to focus on one thing, 100% for a short period of time, and in my twenty-five years of life, this has worked fabulously. Until I became a mother.
A little over ten months ago, I was a wife. I was a blogger (though admittedly. an absent one at the time.) I was an etsy shop owner, a singer/ actress/ dancer, an executive assistant, and photographer. These things, along with my faith, had come to define me. I was wearing a lot of hats and loving it! I was also pregnant.
Although I was full of anticipation  and excitement to meet our little girl, I had to wonder if her arrival would mean I had to redefine who I was altogether. Would I still get to blog about vintage fashion and go on photo shoots? Would I ever get to read a book again? Or perform on stage? Would my dream of getting a second (or third) tattoo have to be placed on the back shelf? What if I ceased to be who I always thought that I was, and I simply became mom… just… mom.
The selfishness of this thought is not lost on me, I assure you. But think of it- what if one day you woke up and you were someone entirely different than who you always assumed yourself to be. The realization of this fact is one thing, but the practice of being this new person is a different challenge altogether. How do you know you want to be this new person? From where do you gather the knowledge and skills required to completely embody this new position in life? What if you suck at it?
And so for nine months, I waited… and I wondered… and I tried to soak up every last bit of life that was left, because in my head, everything was going to be over “once the baby comes…” You know what I mean? “we better go see all the movies we can, because once the baby comes….” and “I need to chop off my long, wavy, strawberry blonde locks because real moms don’t have hippie hair and once the baby comes…” or “better enjoy this whole having-a-social-life-thing while you can because once the baby comes…” The truth is that as excited as I was to have this little angel in our lives, part of me was treating it as a death sentence.
But then December 1st rolled around, and we weren’t doing much, so we decided to have a baby. But not just any baby. The most beautiful, sweet, smart, and perfect baby in all the land. And we named her Vesper because we had spent so many nights praying for her.
Her arrival was quick. Less than four hours, only ten minutes of actual hard labor. Three pushes and she was here. In the world. Living and breathing and just… being my daughter. And you know what? All of a sudden I put on a new hat. I was mom. I was Vesper’s mom. And it felt like I was always meant to be.
Those first few weeks were tough. I really did feel like I had lost my identity as anything other than a feeding trough. Slowly but surely, I emerged from the motherhood fog to find myself in the world again.  And you know what I found? Remember the person I was, and the things I always loved to do? I still loved those things and I was still that person.  And being her and doing those things became so much more special to me with my baby girl in my arms.
Thanks for asking me to participate, Rebecca!
xo,
Chels

A New Normal

I returned to work last Thursday. It was quite possibly the hardest thing I’ve had to do since Vess arrived. It was inevitable. We’re not one of those couples who can afford to live off of one income at the moment, so I knew it was coming. But I managed to completely avoid thinking about it for the majority of my maternity leave. Something inside me hoped- just for a second- that a miracle would happen and the world would give me permission to stay at home and raise our baby girl.

On Wednesday, it finally hit me that my imagination had gotten away from me. I wouldn’t be able to stay home. In fact, in less than twenty-four hours, I would be sitting in my office, staring at spread sheets and forcing myself to stay awake as the hum of my printer lulled me to sleep.  So I did what any grown woman would do. I threw a little pity party. That’s right. I took a nice hot shower and had a good cry. Then I pulled myself together and decided on an outfit for the next day- Sensible black pants and a polka dot and floral top. And then I packed Vesper’s diaper bag. I planned out my route from our house to the sitter’s, then to the office. Being the overly-cautious planner that I am, I had timed the commute earlier in the week, just to be sure that I wouldn’t be late. I pre-loaded the car with a few items for the next morning. I went over the next morning’s plans over and over in my head. wake up, get ready, feed, change, clothe baby, finish getting ready, leave for sitter’s, remember to tell her about Vesper’s eczema, avoid construction traffic, make it to work by 8:30. I fully knew what to expect. In fact, I had planned the morning out so carefully that I just knew I would be too focused on getting to work to have time to feel sad.

The next morning, everything went according to plan. It was as if Vesper knew that I needed her to cooperate. Like she wanted to make this as easy as possible for me. I just had to keep moving. As long as I kept moving, I wouldn’t have to think about what I was actually doing. Auto Pilot. I think every mom has one.

Before I knew it, we had made it to the sitter’s house. I should pause and mention that the girl who is watching our daughter is a very very dear friend of mine. She graciously offered to watch Vess and we are so blessed to have her, her husband, and their daughter in our lives. She’s such an encouragement to me every day as I struggle through this new adventure.  She seems to know me very well, even though we’ve only known each other a short while. I am eternally grateful for her friendship and advice in all aspects of my life. I feel such great joy when I am with her. But as I pulled into the driveway, I felt my throat catch. I felt myself begin to gasp for air. Nope. Must keep moving. I tend to do this a lot. When things get tough, I forget to breathe… I kept a brave face as I carried my daughter into the house, blurted out a few quick reminders (“she likes to be swaddled. Don’t forget to keep her upright when she eats. The eczema cream and gas drops are in the bag.” etc etc) and then dashed out the door before my emotions got the best of me.

As I pulled out of the driveway, it hit me that I was alone for the first time in nearly two months. Alone… I finally let myself breathe. Deeply. In… and out… mixed with a wave of salty tears. I didn’t expect it. It wasn’t in the plan. And so I sat at the stop sign at the edge of the neighborhood and cried. And breathed. And worried that my carefully planned morning would be shot to hell due to this unexpected bawl-fest. I thought of all the time I would be losing with my daughter. How unfair that my friend would get to spend her happiest hours with her during the day and I would pick her up just in time for her fussy time and bedtime. No more mid-day naps with her head on my chest. No more play time on the floor with the dog after lunch. All the smiles and coos I would miss… What if she got confused and stopped recognizing that I was her mother?? What if she liked my friend more than me? What if I was totally and completely screwing up my kid by having someone else watch her during the day! She might grow up to be like Snooki or something. (actual thought. not kidding. Clearly I was being irrational.)

I cried most of the way to work and finally pulled myself together just in time to pull into the parking lot and realize I had forgotten pretty much everything about my job. The door codes had been changed while I was away (should I have taken that as I hint?). People had come and gone. My office was still in tact. My job had been done for me. Life had continued without me. I wasn’t needed at the office. I was needed at home… Someone else can do spread sheets, but no one else can be Vesper’s mother and Ryan’s wife. What was I doing here anyway? I spent the rest of the day trying to focus on work. I’ll be honest, I didn’t get much done.

It didn’t hit me right away. In fact, it’s something I’m having to continually remind myself of, but this is the conclusion that came to me: right now, my ministry is outside the home. I was created to be a helper to my husband and family, and right now that means working a full-time job during the week days, and being the best wife and mother I can be on the evenings and weekends. It’s a tough balance. I’m not sure if it will ever feel “right.” I’m not saying this to justify it to you. I’m probably saying it to justify it to myself for the hundredth time. I’m okay. She’s okay. It’s a new normal.

I don’t have any profound words of advice which were derived from this experience- except that maybe, in hindsight, one should wear waterproof mascara on her first day back to work after maternity leave. I can only say that I feel like I’m part of the club now. You know the one I’m talking about- the Working Moms club. Every morning, all around the world, moms take their sleepy-eyed kiddos to the sitter’s, or school, or daycare. And then they fight the guilt time and time again.  Maybe they feel guilt because they can’t stay home, or maybe the guilt is because they don’t want to stay home at all.  Either way, I’m starting to notice that we as women and mothers sure do heap a lot of guilt onto ourselves. Does it make us better people? I’m not sure yet. I’m still wading through mine…

This will be my first full week back at work. A true test. I still feel guilty, but somehow, I feel like I’ll make it out on the other side. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll pray for you, if you pray for me. As iron sharpens iron… And we’ll get through this week together.

xo,

Chels