​I woke up an hour before the children, put on a pot of coffee and spent a precious moment with Jesus. I folded the laundry that I ran the night before, and had just enough time to put it away before I heard the pitter-patter of little feet. We had a grand ole’ morning complete with Pinterest-inspired activities and meaningful engagement. My children were smiling and laughing and singing my praises. They shared their toys and compromised over the next TV show selection as if they were royal princes. I found a moment to go for a run around the block while they played peacefully in our neighborhood park. Then I came home to upload a perfectly written blog post that seemed to go viral within minutes. I was killing it, my friends. Not wanting to disappoint the hubs, I prepped and cooked dinner so that it was warmly delivered to the table as he crossed the threshold into our spotlessly clean home. The kids went to bed without a fuss and the husband and I spent some meaningful and intimate time alone. This whole mothering things is a piece of cake, I thought.
 
And that’s when I woke up from my dream.

Last week I was catching up with a friend I hadn’t spoken to in awhile. We carried on about some trivial details and then, being the sweet friend that she is, she asked me about “my book”. I say “my book” because being asked about “my book” often feels like I’m being asked about a recent illness I was diagnosed with. What do I say here? “Oh the book, it’s getting better. I mean some days are better than others, but I think in the long run it’s going to be ok.” But instead, I muttered something even more awkward because it’s weird to talk about your rare illnesses.
 
Rather than nodding her head in awkward agreement, this sweet friend fired back with the most uncomfortable words to land on my ears, “I just don’t know how you do it all, McKinley – parenting, housework AND writing a book! You are amazing.” I looked back at her with my tired eyes and unwashed face that reeked of total confusion. “Do you even know me?” I asked her.
 
So before this myth can perpetuate itself any longer, let me clear up some misconceptions. Would you like to know how I manage to “do it all”? The answer is simple: I do all of it in different seasons.
 
Let me explain.
 
Last year, I read an article that highlighted a theory called the Entrepreneur’s Dilemma. The idea was simple, every person has the same amount of time to prioritize different areas of your life and you can successfully choose no more than three of those areas at any one time.  While the Entrepreneur’s Dilemma only highlights 5 areas of daily life, McKinley’s Motherhood Dilemma has six. Here are the six priorities you can choose from, mama:

1. Family – (this includes the underlings that require every minute of your attention)
2. Friends – (this is the time spent with the people who keep you sane)
3. Housework – (this includes ALL THE THINGS that must be done to keep your house out of an episode of Hoarders)
4. Working Out – (this is the thing that keeps you from ending up on an episode of my 600 lb. Life)
5. Work – (this is the thing that pays the bills or logs the volunteer hours)
6. Sleep – (this is the thing that gives you the energy to not hurt the underlings)

 
So there you have it, friend, six areas of any mama’s life.  McKinley’s Motherhood Dilemma argues that you will only be able to manage THREE of those things well during any one season. Do you want to know how much freedom I have felt by owning this theory? THE MOST AMOUNT OF FREEDOM. There is freedom in letting go of perfection, AMIRIGHT?
 
The beauty of this theory is that every season, every week, every day, the priorities can change. But either way, you can loosen the grip knowing that there isn’t enough time to manage all six areas well.
 
Just to assure you that I am not a superhuman, here is how a few of my seasons have played out:
 
January 2015-April 2015:

1. Work
2. Family
3. Friends

It was during these months that I sacrificed sleep in order to write the majority of my book. I definitely wasn’t working out and I hired a house cleaner to prevent a HazMat truck from making an appearance at my house.
 
May 2015-December 2015:

1. Family
2. Working Out
3. Housework

After putting on a few (read:15) pounds, I knew working out needed to happen. During this time, we were setting up a new house, so that also took priority. It’s worth noting, that I didn’t have very many friends at this point in Hawaii, and I wasn’t getting much sleep. This was also the most unproductive time for my book, so don’t worry, I wasn’t “doing it all”.
 
December 2015-July 2016:

1. Family
2. Friends
3. Sleep

This is my favorite combination. I want to live all of my days with these three things at the top priority. Give me my favorite people and a good night’s sleep and I’m one smitten kitten. One out-of-shape smitten kitten living in a repulsively dirty house with zero dollars to her name, that is.
 
July 2016-December 2016:

1. Work
2. Work
3. Work

So when my friend said, “I don’t know how you do it all!” She was assuming that my children were taken care of and my house was well-kept. It was during this time that my children spent an unfortunate amount of time unsupervised in my house while I did ALL THE THINGS necessary to publish a book. They managed to remove TWO doors from their hinges during these months, successfully create 2 new pieces of Sharpie Wall Art in our house, and ate whatever food they could find in our pantry. You want a lollipop? Of course! Ice Cream? Sure, just eat it out of the tub. Cookies? Why not? Mommy will just be slaving away at her computer.
 
January 2017-present:

1. Family
2. Housework
3. Sleep

It’s been a less-social couple months and a very quiet few months on my blog. But we’ve had a lot of awesome family time and my house is a little cleaner than normal. And while I could feel guilty that I’m not ‘working’ hard enough, the truth is, I’m simply choosing different priorities for this season.
 
Maybe you’re a phenom, and can keep 4 or 5 of those tasks on lock every single day. Kudos and gold stars to you, my friend, please advise us on your time-management techniques. But for the rest of you who feel like you’re not doing enough or  feel that other women are doing it all, while you’re trudging through the trenches - don’t believe the lie. No one is doing it all at once—they are just doing it all in different seasons.
 
That workout mom on Facebook who produces a new video every day in her spotlessly clean house? I bet she’s not spending as much time with her girlfriends and she’s not getting much sleep.
 
That friend who posts her Pinterest activities with her kiddos everyday? She probably isn’t working much outside of the home or volunteering or enjoying as much time with friends.
 
Or how about the mom who is planning all of your playgroups and organizing your MOPS meetings? Her house could probably use a good clean and she might be getting take out for dinner.
 
You want to know what I would say to each of those moms? Well-freakin-done, my friend! You are nailing it!
 
We can run our own race here, gentle readers, and we can cheer one another on without an ounce of judgment or resentment. You do you, and I’m gonna do me. But you know what neither of us is doing? Not one of us is doing it all. And that, my friends, is the sweet reminder I needed today and just maybe it’s the reminder you needed too.

I'd love to hear form you! What three things are you prioritizing these days?!

On Saturday morning I got a call from a friend I haven’t spoken to in over a year. Excited to hear her voice, I answered enthusiastically only to hear the news. Our friend and former colleague, Brad, died this morning in a car accident. That can’t be right, I thought. He has three young boys only slightly older than my own. His wife is an incredible mother who volunteers her time teaching creative art classes in town. Surely this is a mistake.
 
But as news like this so often does, the words sank slowly into the crevices of my mind—permeating the brain matter in such a way that the facts I couldn’t fathom began to find a permanent home in my cognitive thought. And then, like the flow of a steady stream, those tragic thoughts made their way down into my core – the part of my body that emanates pain throughout. The part that feels the emotions of loss with such gravity that it’s almost paralyzing. What were once just cerebral facts, were now eliciting deep and painful emotions as I experienced and imagined what this loss must feel like to those closest to him.
 
And then.
 
Another friend texted. After two days in the hospital she finally delivered her precious baby girl. What joy! What gladness! The promise of a new life entered the world. Two parents laid eyes on their daughter for the first time falling madly in love with her tiny features. They began a love story that will only grow and continue over the course of their lives together. The thought pierced my heart and filled up my core – how wonderful and marvelous it is the day you meet your first child. What a gift this precious life is.
 
And there I sat. In between these two emotions.
 
I don’t think I’ve ever lived a more dichotomous day. For one family, February 18th will forever be marked with tragedy and loss and grave sadness. But for the other? It will mark life and birth and new beginnings. How odd it is that we can be living in this same world and have such polarizing experiences? How strange to see Solomon’s promise in Ecclesiasties 3:1-2 play out so vividly on this single day – “There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die.” How ironically unfair, it seems, to have the feelings of each situation slightly muted by the competing emotions from the other experience.
 
It seems odd not to experience the fullness of grief when the joy of new life demands a glimpse of my attention. And, on the other hand, it feels disingenuous to revel in the miracle of life knowing that the pain of loss is tugging on my heartstrings as well.
 
But isn’t that the mystery of this life God has promised us? It’s wretchedly painful and remarkably joyous sometimes. All the time. At the same time.
 
I don’t think anyone understood this as well as Brad did, in fact. I can still see his infectious smile glued to his slightly scruffy face as he’d shake his head in a joyous and mysterious way and exclaim, “What a world!” I would hear Brad utter this statement after a meeting where two parties had a difficult time coming to an agreement – “What a world!” Or when I told him I was pregnant with my first son, I watched him beam with joy and utter the same phrase – “What a world!” For Brad, these three words signified a reality, not an emotion. They weren’t tied to only highs or only lows – they were a statement of acknowledgement that this wonderfully beautiful and utterly messy place we live in is mysterious and magnificent, confusing and delightful – “What a world!”
 
While Brad definitely understood and empathized with the pain that is felt by people in the margins and on the fringes, his positive and jubilant attitude was easily his most identifiable characteristic. His ability to elevate others, both students and colleagues, set him apart from the crowds – ensuring that others needs were always taken care of before his own.
 
It is with Brad in mind that I’m able to smile a little wider when I think about my friend’s baby girl – What a World!
 
It is with Brad in mind that I can grieve his loss and not let all be lost because he wouldn’t allow tragedy to steal his own joy – What a World!
 
It is with Brad in mind that I can be empowered to love extravagantly on those who are grieving alongside me – What a World!
 
It is with Brad in mind that I’m encouraged as I read Ecclesiastes 3:4, where Solomon says there is “a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance” and maybe the time for both things is today - What a World!
 
It is with Brad in mind that I can feel grief and joy simultaneously – relishing in his memory and delighting in my friend’s new baby – What a world, indeed.

***Friends, if you are able, I'd be honored if you'd consider donating to this sweet family. While I can smile when I remember Brad, the practicalities and logistics of losing a loved one can still be overwhelming. You can click HERE to donate.***

Hey there, friends.

I know this space has been eerily quiet recently and I'm sorry. It turns out when you are launching a book, it feels like you're yelling in a lot of different directions, and some (aka MANY) parts of your life get pushed aside. It seems weird to have pushed away a writing space when you're saying "Hey! Look what I have written!" but I don't think I had any words left after launching my first book, so it's probably for your benefit.

If you've been here a while, you may be wondering, what's happening with McKinley? Or if you're new here, you are like "What am I even doing here, I don't know who this person is?!" Either way, I need to let you in on a little secret that is about to infiltrate our entire little world with a whole lot of love - we are getting another foster babe! I have approximately one million things I want to tell you about this little fella, but I'm going to save that for a post next week. For now, I want to share an article I wrote for our local Foster Care Newsletter that answers one of the most common questions I get, "How difficult is it to serve as a Foster Family when you're in the military?" 

I answer that question a lot, and wanted to offer up a little insight into why I believe that Military Families are incredibly well-suited to be amazing foster parents. So without further ado, here is the article I wrote...

​It was a crisp, autumn afternoon in Virginia and my phone began to ring. I slid my finger across the screen and put the phone to my ear, “Are you sitting down?” my husband asked.
 
My heart dropped. What could it be? He had just gotten back from a six-month deployment two weeks earlier. Please tell me he isn’t going again. Has someone died? The questions kept brewing in my brain before I had the strength to find a chair. “Yes, I’m sitting. Is everything ok?”
 
“You’re never going to believe this,” he said, “but I just got orders and we are moving to Hawai’i!”
 
“Are you serious? That’s amazing!” I retorted, “But please, don’t ever scare me like that again.”
 
For the next several months, I dreamt about palm trees, beautiful beaches, learning the Hawaiian culture, and obtaining the golden tan I always longed for as a child. Little did I know that there was so much more for us to discover during our tour in Hawai’i.
 
Any military family knows that the moving process is all consuming. It took us at least a month before we began to surface above the boxes and packing paper and logistics that come with moving an entire household across an ocean. But, once the dust had settled, we were excited to face our Hawaiian adventure head-on.
 
That’s when we met Mary and Troy. They lived just a few doors down from us on base, with children the same ages as our own. But, in addition to their biological children, Mary and Troy were also serving as resource caregivers. I had never met a military resource family before, and was intrigued by the idea of it. I began bombarding them with questions about the licensing process and how foster care intersects with military life. I mean foster care is so unpredictable, so uncertain, so emotionally draining, right? Could my little military family handle it?
 
And then, as if the answer fell from the sky, I realized that these struggles weren’t so foreign to me after all. Aren’t we, as military families, experts at handling unpredictable situations— like when orders come through at the last minute? Are we not adept at wading through uncertain waters of pending deployments and imminent Temporary Duty Assignments? Don’t we guide our families through all of the emotions that are associated with moves and deployments, however draining it may be? In many ways, the struggles of resource families are the same ones military families face.
 
Maybe we could handle it, I thought, but is two to three years enough time to make a difference? It was about this time in our foster care exploration that I read this quote by Mother Teresa, “We know only too well that what we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something.” The words hit me like a ton of bricks. Serving doesn’t have to look like a twenty-year investment. It doesn’t take decades to love your neighbors well. Mother Teresa’s words pierced my heart and reassured me that while our transient lifestyle doesn’t allow us to invest long-term in communities, we must not forego the opportunities afforded to us in the short-term.
 
As much as the frequent moves seem to disrupt our lives as military families, I choose to see them as opportunities for new beginnings. Here in Hawai’i we have chosen to serve as resource caregivers, but when we move away from the island, our service to our new community might look different. The choice to foster while on military orders is a temporary commitment, which allows each family to fully invest in the system for a finite time period. For us, foster care looked like the right short-term opportunity.
 
In December of 2015 we received our first foster placement.  During his time in our care, we dealt with bumps along the way and faced any uncertainty head-on while wondering how long he would remain in our home. But most importantly, through this experience, we have been able to not only enjoy the opportunities Hawaii has to offer, but also invest in its communities—giving back just a portion of the gifts Hawai’i has given us.
 
In May 2016, we said “good-bye” to our first foster child, as he went to live with family. I wondered how my boys, ages four and two, would respond. He was very much a part of our family, but I was surprised his departure didn’t rock the family boat more. My boys still ask about him, but they aren’t distraught. They still include him in family drawings, but aren’t grieving. I, on the other hand, have been a bit of a mess at times. Why are they so resilient? Sure, part of it comes from the innocence of youth, but I realized soon after our foster child’s departure, that the boys talk about him much like they talk about their friends from Virginia. Their experience as military kiddos has prepared them well for this transition. Their ability to love deeply while in the presence of friends, but also transition into a new normal without their friends is simply a byproduct of being a military brat. I clearly have a lot to learn from my boys.
 
While I never imagined that the military life would lead us to foster care, the connection isn’t too far off base.  After all, in order to serve our nation well, we have to adequately care for our local community. And so, we are incredibly grateful for the opportunity to serve as resource caregivers and invest in the people of Hawai’i for as long as Uncle Sam allows.


***This article was original published in Hui Ho'omalu's Building Connections Newsletter