Sarah Anne I Am

  You may have seen me at church this past Sunday, looking relatively put together, wearing a good necklace, with my cute Starbucks mug in hand. Well, just in case you ever see me and wonder how I manage to be so effortlessly gorgeous and confident all the time (ha...not), I'm going to give you a peek behind the scenes.   When all you see are other moms who somehow have their hair perfectly curled and their lipstick perfectly applied, it can start to feel like you're the only one who goes through a full-on battle just to get to the car on a Sunday morning. But you're not the only one. I promise.   So, here's a lighthearted and completely truthful look at a typical Sunday morning in my life.   The photo to the left is how Clara feels when she is greeted first thing in the morning by being speed-dressed, nursed for three minutes, and asked "Do you need to nurse more? Is that enough? Are you sure?!?!" all while Judah sits beside her crying continou

  Right now I am sitting at Starbucks. Alone. Just me, a pile of books, a laptop, and a glorious salted caramel mocha. I'm freshly showered and wearing make-up- the barista even complimented my eye shadow, and she's actually a legitimate judge of my usual appearance, as she's seen me three times in the past week.   How, you may ask, is this even possible? How are all of these things true, all at the same time? What magic is this?   Well, let me tell you.   Seven weeks after Clara was born I went to see my midwife for my postpartum appointment. I had make-up on that day, too. I had both kids in tow. Clara was compliant, as always, but Judah was in the middle of his screaming-at-everyone-everywhere-in-terror phase. And while on the outside I may have looked somewhat put together (sweaty brow aside), inside I was a wreck.   And my midwife knew it, because she knows me, and also because I owned up to it readily. I was depressed. I was overwhelmed. I was getting through

  I always feel a little weird posting selfies, especially the infamous bathroom mirror pics. But there's a reason that I do.    I post plenty of pictures of my kids. And Arthur is in those pictures frequently, because I'm usually the one taking the picture. But often I'm too busy taking the picture to be in the picture, or I don't want to be because I don't want records of how I look in this season. And that's ridiculous.    How vain and unfair of me to not be in a picture with my kids because I think I'm not the right size- when they look back at photos from this time in their life, I want them to see the fun I had with them. I want them to see the times I held them when they slept, split a frozen yogurt with them, and yes, all the times I just loved the way I looked with them in my arms so I snapped a picture in the mirror.   They will see other things, too- the things that too often keep me from taking those photos in the first place. They w