Ramblings on my Secret Desire for a Live-In Photographer

This is one of my most favorite pictures ever, in the whole world, just, the best. We used this for our Christmas Card last year, and it's blown up big-time and framed and sitting on a chest that you see immediately when you first walk into our home.

My husband looks handsome, my kiddos look beautiful, but let's be honest here.... MY HAIR LOOKS AMAZING. It has never ever looked that good in my whole life and I am 100% sure that the ladies at TTF photo-shopped it- and I am totally cool with that.  

I will never have hair like this again for many reasons, mainly that I made a commitment to myself never to go a year and a half between haircuts again, but I will always have a reminder that there was this one time that I looked bonkers good.  This pic is also the background on my phone and whenever I'm having a bad day/moment, I pull out my phone and stare at that hair. 

I feel like this is how I want my kids to remember me, looking happy and healthy and put-together.  So these are the pictures I choose to frame and hang all over our house. 

 But more and more, I'm realizing this is not only PROPAGANDA and basically brainwashing at this point, but I've been reflecting on how I really do want my kids to remember me.

After surviving a stomach bug that swept through our house this week, I found myself sitting in a chair by the dishwasher late last night, slowly unloading it dish by dish but so tired that I had to lay down on the floor to rest and take breaks. It occurred to me that I wish someone would take my picture doing this so that one day my kids would have concrete evidence that I, in fact, did quite a bit for them, particularly when I did not feel like it. I would frame this picture and give it to each of them on the eve of their wedding. 

That photo would look something like this one, which I sent to my sister when she asked how I was feeling lately. I sent her this photo with no text- it needs no explaining. My mom won't like that I put this picture of myself on the internet, so no one tell her. 

Another picture I would have liked my Live-In Photographer to take would have been  me blowing up balloons about an hour ago for Abby Bette's birthday. Blowing up 12 balloons while 31 weeks pregnant was no small thing. I actually bought 24 balloons, hoping Caleb would blow up half with me, but he fell asleep watching baseball. I'm not begrudging him for sleeping- he works hard for the money. But let's be clear, 24 balloons would have had MUCH greater impact than 12 and I am going for Maximum Birthday Magic here, today and everyday. Preggo Trish blowing up balloons should have been documented because I want to be able to pull it out whenever one of my angels in the future shows me any lip. 

Other pics desired:

-Me trying to cook dinner over a hot stove while pregnant with Joshua crying and clinging to one leg while Ella is crying and clinging to my other leg. 

-Me sewing coordinating shirts with their names on it for them to wear on their first day of pre-school and also to the hospital when the new baby arrives. (never will I attempt this again- ETSY FOR LIFE)

-Me lying awake in bed at 3:30am because of pregnancy insomnia

-Me lying half-dead on the kitchen floor at 7:30am, trying to get breakfast on the table, but I'm too tired thanks to pregnancy insomnia, and also Joshua just poured an entire box of Honey Nut Cheerios on my face. 

-Me dangling perilously over our staircase trying to hang a bright pink celebration garland for AB's birthday. Again, don't tell my mom I did this, it will only upset her. Although, she was the Birthday Party Queen so she should understand the need for proper party decor. 

There are many other options for pictures my Live-In Photographer could take, we have ample material over here, but I'm too tired to type out more right now #pregnancyinsomnia.

This year has been a little wonkadoodle for our family. The day after we came back from Disney World in mid-February, we found out #4 was on the way. I was JUST FIGURING OUT how to KIND OF mother three children. Morning sickness, which in my case is 24/7 sickness, immediately set in and for six weeks, my kids were left to roam the house while Caleb was at work. They basically became feral. I'm still not sure what they ate during this time.

 It was hard, but I made it.

 By the time I was out of the first trimester and feeling better, it was time to pack up the house and move to NC for Caleb's fellowship. Ella never got the gist of packing things in boxes- she would take out every single item the second I turned around to grab the next thing to pack. That meant the only time I could pack was late at night since she doesn't nap.

 It was tricky, but I did it. 

Here in NC, we are still trying to empty boxes and get this rental feeling like home. I try to take the kids somewhere every morning, like a nature trail or the science museum, so that they're out of the house and not total TV zombies. This is so hard for me because have I mentioned I have pregnancy insomnia? Abby Bette cries sometimes at night because she misses her friends back in Mobile, and it absolutely breaks our hearts. We moved Joshua out of the crib to his big-boy bed and our good sleeper whom we used to call Old Man Butts now likes to party until 10pm. 

It's not easy, but I'm getting through it. 

I want my kids to remember me as STRONG. A woman who could DO ANYTHING. A mother who could HANDLE IT ALL.

But that is more propaganda than my amazing hair picture.

If there is anything that I have learned this past summer, especially over the past few days, is that I cannot do it. There is no fun in admitting this to myself, in this social media perfect era. 

About two weeks ago, things got so bad (#pregnancyinsomnia) that I called my mom crying so hard that she and my dad drove 11 hours to spend the week helping me. I can't do any of this on my own. 

We moved ourselves from Mobile to North Carolina at the end of June, and one of our best friend's, Mark Rudd, drove all the way there with Caleb to help us unpack the truck and move furniture in. My Dad drove me (and I threw up the whole way, fun fact) and also helped us unpack the truck. My mom, sister, and brother drove the kids up from Starkville. It took 12 hours for them to drive through blinding rain and construction. No one complained ever- they smiled the entire time. We couldn't have done any of that on our own. 

The biggest lesson came this past Thursday evening, during Stomach Bug Apocalypse 2017. Abs had been sick the day before, so I knew it was coming for the rest of us. My stomach started cramping around 4pm and even though I could hear Ella hollering from her crib, I couldn't muster the strength to go get her. At 5pm, Caleb texted to let me know he was going to be home from work late, so I knew I was on my own.

I started up the stairs to get Ella out, pausing on each stair to catch my breath and struggle through another stomach cramp, when I saw Joshua. He was covered in vomit, sprawled on the stairs, and looked kind of dead. I somehow picked him up, avoided stepping in mess when I could, and got him in the bath tub, all before I started getting sick.

With Ella crying in her crib, Joshua lethargic in the bathtub, and me also throwing up, Abby Bette started running in periodically to have diarrhea. 

It was beyond me. I couldn't do it. I was not strong enough. I could not get through this on my own.

All I could do was lay down on the bathroom floor, clutching my huge tummy. I laid there with my eyes closed when I heard the sweetest thing I've ever heard.

In his sickly, weak voice, Joshua started singing:

This is the day, this is the day

That the Lord has made, that the Lord has made

I will rejoice, I will rejoice

And be glad in it, and be glad in it. 

He sang the whole song, then he stuck out his hand for me to hold. I laid on the floor next to the bathtub, his little black hand in my tired white one, and I marveled at the way the Lord ministered to me through my sick two-year-old son. 

Since I do not have a Live-In Photographer, I had to take a good mental picture of the moment his hand was in mine, and how my hand was in His. 

Because in a moment of great need, God reminded me that it is not about ME at all; I cannot do it all, and I will never come close. But The One who made this day CAN handle it and HAS ALREADY handled it on the cross. And although I am too tired to rejoice, I can easily be glad in it.

And when all is said and done, I'm starting to figure out that THAT is what I want my kids to remember about me. That I could not do it all, and I made every mistake in the book. That every day (except for one glorious portrait session), my hair was in a horrible knot on top of my head, and my clothes usually stunk from them wiping their noses on my shirt. But that their mother leaned on the Lord and that any strength she had came from Him. And no photographer can capture that. 

Turn you eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face;
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.