Day 6: The Perfectionist

I'm sitting here Sunday night, with 10 different drafts in my arsenal, nothing speaking to me, finding nothing. to. say.

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The perfectionist. She's in all of us, but only rears her ugly head when we least expect it. Unfortunately for me, I'm often left feeling paralyzed, and in this case, 2 hours and 38 minutes from Day 6 with nothing to show for it.

I have to say, though, since having kiddos the perfectionist in me has been brought down to a low hum. At least in some areas of my life. Right now? There's stuff on the floor. In multiple rooms. But this is the first time I've had a moment to myself since I woke up to, "Mommy, I made my bed!" And found every stuffed animal within a five mile radius of our house on my daughter's bed. "Thanks for being a big helper, honey."

But this writing space? Somehow the little thoughts of perfectionism have slid into the cracks of my exterior, and just like that she's taken over, deceiving me in believing I'll ever reach anyone on a cool Monday morning in October.

And it's got me thinking about this perfectionist. This thief of joy and benefactor of unattainable ideals.

When I'm a perfectionist, I teach my children it's not ok to make mistakes.
When I'm a perfectionist, I build a wall around myself that doesn't let others see my true self.
When I'm a perfectionist, I waste time worrying about...everything.
When I'm a perfectionist, my facade tells others their best isn't good enough.
When I'm a perfectionist, I miss the true beauty of this life, and as a result I'm robbed of what is pure and different in the world. Perfectionism makes us believe that there's only one way, which alienates us from our community, friends, family.

Perfectionism strips us from the very threads of the world around us. It deceives us into believing that there is something perfect to strive for. But these distinct differences of this world, that's what makes it go around. That's the beauty of it all! And that's what helps us to grow in relationships with others, break down barriers and move closer to a more fulfilling and rich life.

When we first moved last year, I invited a new friend over so our children could play together. Mr. Kuda had been traveling for work, and despite the fact that we had lived in the rental for a few months, we were not unpacked, and I just couldn't find it in me to clean up to the perfect house I wanted to portray. I was mortified, but something in me just couldn't get it done. I apologized profusely, but she told me to stop, and that she was somewhat relieved that I didn't have it all together all the time. Those were her words: I'm kind of relieved because that means you don't have it all together all the time. What a blessing! Not only to me, but to her as well. It was that moment that a friendship grew; just one decision made allowed her to get a glimpse of my true self.

What if? What if we let those barriers fall, just one brick at a time? What if we allowed others to see our imperfections? The healing nature of doing so is powerful, if only we have the courage to do it every single day.

That's your challenge today: Expose your imperfections, and allow others to see who you truly are. As we embrace the ways we don't have it all together, and in that we will give the greatest gift to one another: ourselves.

xoxo, k.

What's the point?

Some time ago, I found myself sitting around a table with a group of folks I love dearly. J was telling me how beautiful the church he had been to that weekend was. Under my breath, I said softly, "I should have gone." The woman sitting next to me, someone I respect and love, said quite curtly, "Why? What's the point?"

I sat there shocked. And just smiled and brushed it off. Because I didn't know how to respond. How do you respond to someone you love, who has such a visceral reaction to the church you love so much? I prayed silently for the words to come, but I remained dumbfounded. I couldn't find the words.

This is something I struggle with as my faith grows. I'm constantly bombarded with folks I love, friends and family and neighbors and the like, that don't get my faith. They don't understand the point. I've actually been told on a number of occasions that I'm too smart to believe in God.

What's the point? Why do I go to church? Why do I believe in God? In Jesus? Why am I having such a hard time with this if Jesus is supposed to make my life easy?

I'm not going to write a book on this, probably not even a good few paragraphs, but I feel it's important I put my thoughts down. As a people pleaser, I've grown weary of this burden I've placed on myself, to live in two worlds: one of believers, and one of those who just don't get the point.

I don't have the ability to look around this world and just see the science of it. I can't look at the miracles I see every day and not think of a higher power. I can't look at my kids as just a bunch of cells growing into little humans, and now their own unique selves and personalities, then think there isn't a being who hasn't planned these kiddos from the start. I have three close friends, THREE, who were told they'd never have biological children, that it was medically impossible. But they did. With no medical explanation. I can't help but think that these aren't coincidences, and I also can't help but think we're all here for something other than living, dying, and slowly deteriorating underground in the dirt. Why?

I believe in the Bible. I believe there are things about the Bible we don't understand. I can't answer questions related to dinosaurs and fossils created millions of years ago, but I believe that truth will come to light at some point in time, either in this life or the next. I know bad things happen in this world that are difficult, sometimes impossible to stomach, but that does not take away the one thing I am absolutely 100% positive about.

I have faith. Faith that I'm not the beginning and end of all of this. Faith in a Lord who has shown Himself as an earthly man who was Christ. And faith in a love so strong, so powerful, resulting in a death so that I could experience eternal life. No condemnation. No guilt. Love others as I love myself. Admit my faults and disastrous inconsistencies, and believe. Believe.

Is that so crazy? And why does it make me less than intelligent? Do I think my faith makes me better than others? No. Do I think my faith gives me an upper hand when it comes to matters of the heart? Not necesarily. Because I'm human, my faith is imperfect. I don't fully rely on God all the time because I'm unable to get over myself. But I get up the next day, and try again.

This is my point. This is what gets me through my day. This is what makes me want to be a better person, a better wife. Mother. Daughter. Friend. Neighbor. Fellow passer-by. And this is why I go to church.

I know some of you don't understand this. And that's ok. My only wish is that you see me for me. See my joy in Christ's love. See me as a seriously flawed and imperfect person, who just wants desperately to love other people as Christ loved each and every one of us.

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda

Wednesday Confessional

Such a sweet day. The skies were sunny, there was a warm breeze. Miss E finally sort of conquered her fear of flies, and we headed out to enjoy glorious Spring at one of the awesome local parks. Isn't that a sweet picture?

Wait... Let's zoom in a bit...

A little closer...

That would be my son. I forgot to put shoes on him. He went to the PUBLIC PARK without shoes on. And proceeded to take off his socks. And I tried to pretend that I was totally ok with it.

Until next time,
Mrs. Kuda

The Whole Truth and Nothing But the Truth

March 5, 2014
Ash Wednesday

I'm not really sure where to start.

The past ten months have been... Busy. Overwhelming. Life-changing. But not in the major life-changing way you might think.

Well, we moved. And built a house. And moved again. And I might have lost a smidgen of my sanity in the process. So maybe it was a major life-changing way you might think. Major.

But here I am. About to go on a limb. I'm about to jump into a place I'm not sure quite where I'll land. I am changed, and in order to continue with my blog I must be transparent.

God told me that we needed to move. And He told me where to go. I have never experienced anything like it. And I was scared to tell anyone. At least anyone who didn't know I believed in God or Jesus Christ. Scared.

Sweaty-palmed, shaking knees, SCARED.

Why? Because some of my friends don't know this about me. That I love the Lord and try to follow, usually quite poorly, in His ways. They might think that I've lost myself, that I've become "judgy" or "preachy," and that I'm not the same Mrs. Kuda that always was. And isn't that sad? My heart has been broken over this, because if they are my friends, won't they love me regardless?

Of course. My one true desire in my life has been for others to see Him in me. It has become glaringly clear that will never happen if I keep hidden the desires of my heart and the true way I want to live from at least half of the people I  know and love! What good is it then?

So before you think I've gone crazy and I'm now receiving messages from the Almighty from high above, let me explain my story...

You know the little feeling you get deep down inside? The one that some call your instinct, or your gut? For me, that's God. And if I don't act on something, and He really wants me to go through with something, that nagging, gut-wrenching feeling doesn't go away. He continues to open door after door after door, leading me to where I know I'm supposed to go. Sometimes I follow it, and sometimes I don't.

What happened to me last year began as a small stirring. We had a 2 year old, and a 3 month old in a small house. We had decided that it was best for me to stay home with the kids, but the reality was that our time was short in our very expensive neighborhood; there was no way we could survive on one income while living the life we were living. Something had to change.

It felt like we looked all over the Eastern Seaboard. Nothing felt right. Until one Sunday morning in April of last year we decided to go to church in a town an hour south of us. How random is that? Our family, who goes to church  maybe once or twice a month, got up on a Sunday, and trucked it down to a random town in the middle of Virginia. All on a "gut" feeling.

And when we got there? Mr. Kuda and I somehow knew it was right for our family. And I can't tell you why, but we made an appointment the next weekend to look at houses. And the next weekend. Each time we went back to visit, the vision of where we were supposed to be became crystal clear. Though we weren't sure of the specific whys of where we were headed, by the end of May we had committed to BUILDING A HOUSE on almost three acres in the middle of nowhere. By August, we had sold our first home as a married couple and moved away from everything we knew in Northern Virginia: our wonderful neighborhood, convenience to a big city, and most importantly, friends who had become family.

Some of you may be thinking, "Kristin. It's an hour south. How different can it be?" Well, if you know Northern Virginia, you know that it may as well be its own nation. It is NOT like the rest of Virginia. At all. More on that another time.

So there I was, with my husband traveling up to the big city for work, me in a rental house with the kids, and in a neighborhood with no other stay at home moms, and God began to work. Despite not knowing a soul in our new town, He began to put people in our lives so we could move on and get our new lives started. I met a random woman in a park who has a house in the neighborhood where we were building. She was also part of a mom's group and has two girls around my kids ages. I joined the mom's group, and in turn found friends, a preschool for Miss E, and countless other ways to keep my sanity. Just about every person we've met has been kind, welcoming, and an answer to every prayer I've prayed over the course of this last year.

All because I listened. I'm sitting here in this amazing house. This amazing gift. The even bigger gift is that I am now able to stay at home with our kids; something I never thought I'd be able to for any length of time, or even really want to do. But here we are: a place I never thought we'd be. If I just accept this gift, and do nothing with it? If receiving this gift does nothing but give me a house and a few years at home with the kids? Isn't life more about the house you live in, your two cars and two children? What if there's more? What if this is beyond you and me, and there is a greater purpose to all of this?

Writing in this blog has always been an outlet for me. I'm not sure why, but during the past year, the other thing I felt led to do was to stop blogging. It was hard... I missed it. I had reached 100 followers! (side note: I am aware that that is pretty much nothing in the blog world, but to me, it was the world! I felt so cool!) But it wasn't true. And if it's not me being me, then why should I share anything at all?

That feeling deep down? It started up again after we were here a few months. It was time to start sharing again; there are stories that need to be told. But if you don't know the me, the real me, then what would be the point of it all? I'd be constantly editing myself and my true beliefs, and that's not real writing. There's no juicy goodness in that.

That leads me to my scared place. This post has been floating in my head for months, but I've been too afraid to write it. Too afraid to say out loud what's been going on inside my head. Too afraid that I'll alienate those I love, offend someone, and more, just putting myself in a vulnerable space I've never been is terrifying. But these stories of my life, of our lives needs to be told. Even if it's just for me to get over my fear of showing my true identity in Christ.

Ah! I just said it! My true identity in Christ. Typing it makes my palms sweat! Because that's where I sit today. My true self lies within Him and the ultimate sacrifice He made for me when He was crucified on the cross. And if He did that for me, and you, and everyone around us, can't I just write a little blog post about my true self? Seems simple, but given the courage I've needed (and lacked) for the better part of 6 months, maybe not so much.

Will you stay with me on this new adventure? Who knows where we'll end up! (Please don't say in another town in some random middle of nowhere state... My heart can't take it again this year!)

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda

Wednesday Confessional

The other day I had a hankering for chocolate. And that would be fine if I had nap time to count on, but since that's gone, I'm really finding it hard to indulge myself on my vices during the day. Seriously. Do you know how hard it is to sneak chocolate past a two year old?

We were headed out for Rock & Read last week, and we were running a bit late. Since we were going out that day, I decided it best for me to actually shower. Unfortunately sometimes that means no breakfast for me. What better option than to grab some Dove? Now if only I had the perfect device to sneak it out...

Why, Mr. C's hat, of course! Since Miss E sits behind me in the car, she had no idea. It was the perfect cover. Until her Spidey-like hearing detected my opening the wrappers.

"Mommy, what's that noise?

"Nothing, honey."

"What's that noise?"

"It's the radio honey. Don't you love this song?"

"What's THAT noise?"

I could see her eyes in the rearview mirror, and it was clear that I had been found out. But I ignored her. Because I didn't want to share (clearly, I hadn't learned anything at all from the other day). And because she's never had just a plain 'ole piece of chocolate before (but so you know she isn't deprived, she has received it from a plethora of other vessels), so she didn't really know what she was missing.

She eventually dropped it. After all, she couldn't really suspect Mr. C's hat, could she?

Please tell me I'm not the only one guilty of this...

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda

We're Grumpy (aka, mommy fail)

Today was just one of those days. Daylight Savings Time has totally screwed with the Kudas in a not so fun way. I should've expected it at some point, but I'm just going to go ahead and say it: I totally deserved it.

"Mommy, I'm grumpy."

For some reason, the loss or addition of an hour has never impacted us as far as the kiddos are concerned. If you'll recall, Miss E has always been a good sleeper, and to be quite honest, Mr. C isn't as good, but he's better than most. And why do I deserve the sudden punishment of all h*!! breaking loose in our house?

Because every time a mom told me how awful the time change was for her kids, on the outside I was providing a comforting (and knowing?) nod, while on the inside all I could think was, I am so awesome. My kids would never have this problem. Yup. Full disclosure: I was smug. I should have been thinking, I have the best kids in the world and am soooooooo lucky this hasn't impacted us!

Long story short, the past two days have sucked. And the worst part about this is the realization I had while waiting for Miss E to procrastinate as she went number two on the potty for THRITY-FIVE MINUTES after bedtime: I'm the problem here, not the change in time (though I have to say, our schedule is totally wack-a-doo right now because of it). When momma is grumpy, the clan is grumpy. Today was not my best. I was a short-fused, nay-saying, voice-raising hot mess. NO. I don't want you to climb on me and lick my face. NO. I don't want to hold you and your brother while both of you scream in my ears. And NO. Screaming in a banshee voice while also crying and waking your brother up will not afford you the chance to watch Mickey Mouse Club. Ever.

But while I sat there in the dark (per her request) while Miss E went potty, she told me, "Mommy is grumpy like Miss E." Yup. I sure was.

So after we cleaned up, I apologized. Which if you know me, is really hard for me to do, even if it's to a two year old. But shouldn't she know that even grown-ups make mistakes? And isn't it my job to teach her that, even when you have a really bad day and you take it out on people you love, you still have to apologize and own up to your actions?

Once again, the toddler teaches me more about life in five minutes than I've learned in thirty something years.

And by the way, I promise to NEVER be the smug momma again. I PROMISE! This daylight savings time change thingy is no joke.

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda

Wednesday Confessional

Well, Wednesday Confessional became Thursday Confessional. Sometimes there just aren't enough hours in the day...

I think we all have toys that we love to hate (or hate to love?) with our kiddos. A dear friend gave Miss E an AWESOME Minnie Mouse bingo game for Christmas. It even came with a cute little purse! Along with that, Miss E now is in love with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, which is great because it's shorter than Sesame Street so I don't feel guilty about putting my kid in front of the TV for a full hour (read: ignore my child for a full hour) at once, but it gives me 25 minutes of me time when I need it. Like when she was up at 5:30 this morning and I really needed my quiet time and a cup of coffee before I became a mom for the day.

The only downside is that there are FIVE HUNDRED MILLION itty bitty Minnie Mouse heads (for the bingo chips, of course) that end up in every nook and cranny of our house. I've (sort of) solved that problem by only allowing a few pieces out at a time, and keeping the rest in a baggy above the fridge. Which is also really helpful when I see one on the floor while vacuuming so I don't feel guilty when I let it go through the crevice tool.

Please don't judge me. There is dust ON my vacuum.
And a ton of dog hair and other yuck on the inside. Sigh.

Word to the wise: if you're going to pull this, for the love of all things that are good, please do not leave the vacuum out for all to see as poor Minnie chokes on dog hair. This will be traumatic to your toddler. I witnessed it first hand. Not pretty.

"But mommy (SOB) she's (SOB) getting so (SOB) dirty!!!!"

What have you done to traumatize your children this week? I want to hear about it!

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda

Wednesday Confessional

All right. We all do something that may be a bit, um, non-mom worthy. Time to fess up!

I may have told a bit of a white lie to Emma the other day. For two reasons: I knew how much of the brownie batch was left, and I knew I wasn't willing to share. And I just needed a break from kiddo-land.

Wait. That was three.

So I told Emma I needed to do the dishes. Which was actually true, once I finished the at-least-two-servings of brownies sitting in the pan from the other night. I felt like I was hiding some deep dark secret while stuffing my face in a corner of the kitchen. The shame.

This was after I had a few bites. Emma didn't suspect a thing...

Please tell me I'm not the only one! What have you done this week that may be confession-worthy? I promise you're in good company!

Until next time,

Mrs. Kuda