What's for Dinner?

I have a confession.  Lately, there are three simple words that can make me go from Mary Poppins to Mommy Dearest in two seconds flat...

"What's for dinner?"

Three innocent words...when used on their own, or used in a number of sentences, or when put in a different sequence, or when the question is addressed to someone other than myself...they don't hold the same power as when my husband or children speak them to me.  I don't know what it is.  I don't know exactly why it makes me feel like I could kill my family with my bare hands.  I really don't.  But, for the males in my family, here are some possible explanations, including, but not limited to just one of these answers, it could be a number of combinations, really.

1)  Maybe it could be because I get asked this question at 7:30 in the morning.

2)  Maybe it's because I'm asked this question at least three times a day.

3)  Possibly, it annoys me because I don't want to be responsible for the dinner decision... Every. Single. Night.

4)  Or...because I'm tired of someone ALWAYS complaining that they don't like that particular meal.  I mean, I can't please five people all the time.

5)  Perhaps, it's because I would have to first make a meal plan, and a trip to the grocery store, then unload and put away all the groceries, then cook dinner, then unload the dishwasher, so I could reload the dirty dinner dishes, and clean up the counters...the stove top...the table...the highchair...and sweep the floor.

6)  It might be that you are sitting on your rear with a remote in your hand when you ask the question.

7)  It could be that I've had a long, exhausting, stress-filled day, and I can't possibly do one more thing.

8)  Sometimes it grates my nerves that I have prepared 3 meals a day for the last 9 days and you just assume that I'll be doing the next one as well.

9)  It's almost certainly because I can't think of one more stinking way to cook chicken.

Or, maybe...just maybe...I don't want to.

Motherhood Changes You

Today I was talking with a new friend I'd met in Bible study.  She's young and beautiful, and a newlywed.  Her and her husband have only been married about nine months, so she's still settling into her role as a new bride.  As we were getting to know each other, we were asking questions back and forth about our families.  She asked what it was like to be a mom of three boys.  While most of my answer involved words along the lines of..."crazy", "loud", "exhausting", I also told her that it was the best thing to ever happen to me, but part of me misses the 'Stephanie' that was before motherhood, because being a mother changes you.  I had to make sure I wasn't scaring her off...after all, she is a doe-eyed, bride.  She's eager for the future family that her and her husband will eventually have, and I don't want to smudge the rose colored glasses from which she gazes out of.  Let's be honest...isn't that how we all were before we had our children?  I went home this afternoon and put Benji down for a nap and I thought about how exactly having children has changed me.  If I could go back to 21 year-old Steph, the new bride, anxious to start our family, and prepare her for what was to come, I would tell her this:

the minute you become a mother, your life revolves completely around something other than you...so start practicing selflessness, now.



Motherhood has completely shaped who this 31 year-old Steph, is.  No other event or change in my life has made me see the best in myself, or...the absolute worst.  Motherhood changes you.  It gave me a reason to live.  It strengthened my faith in my creator and his love for me.  It made me appreciate the small things...like a lazy morning in my jammies, drinking coffee and watching my baby's drool-y "coos".  It made me see the world as a beautiful place surrounded with good people, but also a world that was full of dark, evil, scary things.  It made me value more the importance of a good girlfriend, one that you don't have to pretend to be perfect with.  Raising kids had made me more open-minded and helped me realize that there's more than one way to raise healthy, happy children.  It's made me see just how "mean girl" females can be, even after they're adults.  I never loved my husband more...ever...or hated him more...ever.  I've learned that some things are just not worth a fight.  My own comfort, desires, vanity, my feelings...are not important.  My sacrifices, prayers, dreams, my attitude...are crucially important.  When you become a mother, you understand what it means to love someone so much it hurts...literally, it's painful to your soul.  You begin to worry about things you never thought of before...like, catastrophic life-changing accidents that are beyond your control...but also, things like, what if he wakes up in the night and he's cold?  You'll wake up in the middle of the night for no other reason than to watch your sleeping baby...and put a finger under his nose to make sure he's breathing...and your heart will absolutely break when you touch his feet and feel that he's cold.  You'll be thankful that your children finally fall asleep, but when they do, you'll miss them.  "Sexy" used to mean chiseled abs, now it's seeing your husband reading The Berenstain Bears, to a bed full of sleepy boys.

Me and my Bestie-girls night is a little different these days

Time to yourself becomes almost non-existent, so much so that a trip the grocery store alone, or a solo bathroom experience seems a luxury.  What you used to think as an early hour, now is considered mid-morning.  There are many times of loneliness, yet you're never alone.  You have a new love and compassion for children everywhere, and you find yourself wiping a child's nose, who doesn't belong to you, or watching closely a little girl at the mall who looks lost.  Politics now becomes something you care about because it affects your babies and their future.  You become 100% stronger than the woman you used to be: what I used to consider a hard day, is now a piece of cake.  You research everything until you become a pro, yet you still worry maybe you're not making the most informed decision.  As a newlywed, you couldn't imagine women who thought sex with their husbands was just another task at the end of the day....now, you get it.  You find out that the minute you judge another mother, God usually teaches you empathy through a similar circumstance.  You'll never again feel carefree, because you'll never again know the reality of not being responsible for another human life.  You will think a lot about family traditions, your childhood, about your parents' rules...and you'll now understand what exactly your mom meant when she said, "You didn't come with an instruction manual."  Your definitions of words like, "rich" and "successful" no longer have anything to do with money.  Every decision that you will ever make from this day forward, has very little to do with just you, ever again.  

So...yeah, being a mother changes who you once were...but it becomes who you are.  For the better, for the worse, for the benefit and detriment to you children, for the decreasing bank account and increasing blessings, for your future, but mostly theirs.
  

Writer's Block

It always happens like this, just when I feel the desire to start writing again, a friend will mention to me that they haven't read any new blogs from me lately.  Which, is a blessing, I guess.  It confirms to me that I need to sit down and journal my feelings again.  Not because I think the world waits with baited breath to hear what I have to say...just the opposite, actually.  But, it's a confirmation to me from God that this is something that he has blessed me with to enjoy, while hopefully bringing glory to Him through my weaknesses.

I haven't blogged in quite a while, and the reason for that is...writer's block.  The truth is that I've struggled with a lot of thoughts about my blog.  Thoughts that I know are not from God, but they still mess with my head.  I felt like I had nothing to say.  Nothing to be inspired by.  I've been in a rut...in a lot of areas, probably all areas of my life, lately.  For the last six months, I haven't been the wife, mother, friend that I know I should be.  The reasons behind this are many.  Jon started a new job late this summer, and it was a big change for our family and the schedule that he's had for the last ten years. His carefree days of being able to take us to lunch, or pick boys up from school, or just work from home, are over.  I kept telling myself, "Stephanie, this is normal to most stay-at-home moms.  You need to suck it up." But, it still didn't make the transition easier.  Jon's new job is great and we know it was the right move for us, but I'm still getting used to the fact that now, majority of raising the boys during the week falls on me.  There were months that Jon left when the boys went to school and got home in enough time to eat a late dinner and put them in bed.  After the boys' bedtime, he either continued to do some work, or went to bed himself out of complete exhaustion, and it took a toll on our marriage.  I've been lucky to be married to my best friend.  We have had a really easy relationship for almost 15 years, it just came natural to us.  When people would mention how much hard work is involved in marriage, I really couldn't sympathize.  We communicated easily and often, we scheduled time for date nights and romantic evenings, and we made a great team in raising our kids.  But, when I had to step up and fulfill this new absence of Jon, we began to struggle.  Don't get me wrong, we weren't fighting or on the verge of divorce, but it was just...harder.  We went to bed at different times, there were weeks or even months without date nights, and we started to make decisions for our family separately, instead of together.  I became resentful and lonely, and Jon become obsessed with success in his new job.
My kids were adjusting to the new routine, too.  So, most times, their behavior reflected mine.  When I was tired and short tempered, they seemed to fight more.  When I was stressed with my list of things to do, that's when they seemed to really disobey and push my buttons.  When I was feeling defeated, they seemed to prove to me that I was failing at my job of being a good mother.   I love to blog about the orneriness of my boys and the funny mischief they get into.  Sometimes, a person would come up and ask me if I had any funny stories about the boys recently, and all I could think was, "Nope.  It's not funny these days."  I'd lost my joy in the everyday moments of life.  Let me tell you, when you're exhausted, and feeling down, "ornery" isn't funny, it's an annoyance.  It's another mess I had to clean up, another brotherly battle I had to settle, another discipline I had to take care of...alone.  I was uninspired in my marriage, in motherhood, and just in life, in general.

I'd pulled away from God, also.  It was harder to find time to do my Bible study or have a quiet place to pray, and so I didn't.  When I'm not spending time with God, I find it hard to do my job, and do it well. My source of strength, hope, perseverance, comes from Him and without spending time with Him, I was relying on my own strength to make it through.  At the end of the day, we all survived...dinner got cooked, laundry eventually got done, bills paid, groceries bought...but, it was done begrudgingly.  It was accomplished while yelling at my kids, and hurting feelings, and not meeting the emotional needs of my family.

So, all this to say, that I haven't felt joy or fulfillment, or growth in my relationships and therefore, I was uninspired to blog about them.  Since then, things have gotten better.  Jon's settled into his new job more comfortably and we've set boundaries on him bringing work home.  We been better about having "in-house" date nights after the kids go to bed for us to catch up on each other's lives.  We're working on goals for our family spiritually, and trying to make more time without distractions.  I've learned that meeting the emotional needs of my children is way more important than making sure the project list is done for the day.  And, God has given me inspiration again, through my friends, through my kids, through my marriage.  He's still working with me and changing me all the time, but during certain seasons,  the process is just slower than others.

Another Great Loss

About eight weeks ago, I had my second miscarriage.  It happened nearly identical like the last...at least, the details of losing the baby.  This baby, like the other we lost, came as a surprise.  But, unlike the last baby that I desperately wanted...this one, I wasn't exactly happy about.  I've felt complete as a family of five.  My soul is fulfilled in my three boys, and I feel like I have more than I can say grace over.  I'm completely maxed out on how much of myself I can make go around to everyone who needs me.  My reaction in finding out I was pregnant was less than enthusiastic.  It was devastation, actually.  All I could think of was, how in the world I was going to be able to manage another one.  How would Jon and I ever make time for each other now?  How would this affect us financially?  How would this affect me mentally?  Could my body go through another pregnancy and birth after the repairs that had to be done the last time?  I sobbed in the shower that morning and asked God what he was doing.

I kept the news to myself for a couple days.  I felt like I had to process the information before I told Jon.   His reaction wasn't much better than mine.  I know this was a total lack of faith in God and his plans, but it didn't change our feelings.  I told Jon at that moment, that I felt like something wasn't right.  I wasn't feeling sick, I just didn't feel pregnant.  I called the doctor the next day to make an appointment.  Because of my history, she scheduled some blood work to make sure my hormone levels were within normal range and climbing.

I got the call later that afternoon that things were looking a little low for how far along I should've been.  My estimations could've been a little off.  I wasn't exactly sure when I'd conceived, so the doctor scheduled an ultrasound and repeat blood work for a couple days later.  The ultrasound showed 6 weeks, but no heartbeat could be heard at this point, so I had a repeat ultrasound scheduled for 10 days later with new blood labs scheduled for every three days until the next ultrasound.  Waiting is a cruel sentence sometimes...especially in situations like this.  I've never prayed so much in my life...for God to intervene.  I went from devastation in learning the news of my pregnancy to begging God for a miracle.  Each lab appointment showed lower hormone levels and I knew it was only a matter of time.  I was waiting to hear confirmation that my baby was gone.  I've never felt so helpless.  I told Jon that it felt like standing on the shore and watching my child drown, and knowing there was nothing I could do to save this baby.

As a woman, pregnancy means a baby.  When you see the plus sign on the test, you don't think of cells, and science.  You think of a beating heart, and little fingers and toes, giving birth and holding that child for the first time.  Especially being a mother already.  I don't think of a fetus...I think of Jack...of Cole...of Benji.  Your mind instantly goes into mothering mode of making sure you're taking vitamins, drinking plenty of water, getting enough rest.  You try to eat the right things, stay away from the foods you shouldn't eat, no drinking, no tanning beds, no x-rays.  It's ingrained in being a mother and it's immediate.  The word "mommy" is parallel to putting someone else's needs above your own.  It's protection.  It's sacrifice and complete commitment to seeing your child thrive.  But...it was out of my control.  My child's life rested in God's hands only, and to be honest, that didn't feel secure enough.  I know God is capable and is in control...but, I also have mother's intuition, and I already knew the fate that was awaiting me.

We had an ultrasound the next week, by that time I'd already started bleeding and ended up in the ER the day before.  The ultrasound showed a heartbeat in the 70's...my baby was dying.  The bleeding was getting heavier and heavier and the doctor scheduled a D&C for the next day.  I came home that afternoon and sat in my chair in the den and stared out the window for two hours.  Tears spilled out of my eyes, but my face was emotionless.  It was tears of anger and a sorrow that washed over my soul.  I was grieving a baby that I didn't want to begin with...but now, I wanted more than ever.  The guilt of my selfishness ate me alive.  I felt like God was punishing me for being unhappy about the gift of an unexpected pregnancy.  I know in my heart this isn't true.  God doesn't punish...he isn't angry with me.  But, I was angry with myself, and I felt like I deserved this.  I've battled with these emotions since then.  And though I'm making progress in dealing with this, if I let my mind run away with one little, nagging voice, it can come creeping back and distort my view of reality once again.  

I don't know what to make of it...why God let this happen.  Is He trying to teach me something?  Is He showing this perfectionist once again, that really nothing am I in control of?  Is he leading me towards a calling I don't have, yet?  Is He wanting me to use this experience to minister to somebody going through the same thing?  I haven't figured it out...and...I guess I don't need to.  He's calling me out onto the waters to trust in Him in every situation.  All I can do is keep my eyes above the waves.

Unexpected Wake Up Calls

This morning, I'm thankful for unexpected wake up calls.  I was abruptly woken up this morning by a five year old boy who chose 6am to be the perfect time to poop.  Of course, this had to be done in my bathroom.  He sat and swung his legs and sang a couple songs.  He made all sorts of sound effects with his mouth as only little boys can do:  I heard trains, race cars, rockets, explosions, etc.  He came up with a story line and characters and played out the scenario of a "bad guy" trying to outrun a police man in his fast sports car.  This went on for nearly half an hour before he hollered, "MOM-MYYYYY, I'm done!" This really means, "Mommy, come walk into this bathroom that smells like death to find all the toilet paper rolled out on the floor, and wipe my bottom."  While holding my breath and rushing out to breathe again and wash my hands, I realized that this moment is precious.  You may think I'm crazy, but these kind of moments make me smile.  I mean, how long will I be able to catch moments like this when he thinks I'm not listening...when he sings like he's totally forgotten that anyone else in the world exists...when he can make all the little sound effects.  These moments don't last forever.  These little boys grow up...

and stop needing you to wipe their bottoms.

She's Finally Home

Mimi finally got to go home and be with Jesus early this morning.  It's been a long time coming, and something she's yearned for asked about often.  Today, we're celebrating her life and what a pillar of strength, faith, and beauty she's been to our family.  I keep imagining what she must've been seeing as she met her King face-to-face.  I read this old blog entry over today and remembered a couple summers ago when we stayed with her over the weekend.  I remembered her asking over and over, "When can I go home?" Today...she's home...and I couldn't be happier for her.    

This weekend, my in-laws went out of town. Gary's mother has Alzheimer's and has been living with them for the last six months. Yesterday was my Mother-in-law's birthday and Gary wanted to take her away for a couple days to go fishing and relax. We have had the joy of spending the last two days caring for Mimi. I say joy because in these last twelve hours I've reflected on what's really important in life. I've been watching her: sit in her favorite chair and pick at her nails, and drift into and out of her own little world. Every now and then she comes back to us and carries on a conversation. Even though she repeats the same things over and over, I never grow tired of hearing stories of her childhood. Stories of living on a farm in Calvin, Oklahoma. She is a hard worker and has led quite a life. The wrinkles in her face seem to tell her story. She's a stubborn woman...stubborn in a good way. She's having a hard time letting go of her independence even though she seems to know she's not quite capable of keeping it up anymore. One thing seems to make her happy and that's the boys. Whenever they are around, she smiles and laughs and tells them what good boys they are. She doesn't seem bothered by their orneriness. She'll smile and say, "That's what little boys are supposed to do."

I worked in an Alzheimer's unit at a nursing home in college. I was a Nurses Assistant and the Activities Director. This disease has baffled me for quite some time. It's heart-wrenching to see someone revert back to child-like tendencies, to wander around aimlessly wondering what to do with themselves. Last night, she must've asked us where Gary and Gloria were four times. She seemed to get a glimmer in her eye when she asked, "So, I'm here alone this evening?" I had to explain to her that Jon and I were spending the night here too so she wasn't quite alone. Her face dropped and she closed her eyes. "I can stay by myself. I'll be just fine. So, you now have the burden of babysitting me, do you?"

"No, Mimi...we have the joy of spending time with you. You are NOT a burden." I put my hand on top of hers and her chin started to quiver. "I don't want to be a burden." My heart breaks for her. I'm holding back tears as we discuss how she just wants to go home. She tells me that she wants to go to her house and sit in her spot on her couch and be alone with her things. There's something comforting to us about "home". We learn this early in our lives that it's a place of solace, peace, a place where you feel at ease. I want her to be at ease.

We continue to talk a while and finally around 7:30, she tells me she's headed to bed. This morning she seems refreshed and ready to start over again. I know the same questions will happen today just as they did yesterday.

It made me think how this earth is not our home. Our home is with our Heavenly Father. It makes me long for Heaven. So, today I'm thankful for simple things. I'm thankful for health, for my independence, for a roof over my head. I'm thankful for my children and the innocence and joy that only children can bring. I'm thankful for being able to pick veggies out of the garden this morning and the sun that beats down on my back. I'm thankful for the cool relief from the swimming pool. I'm thankful for my mid-afternoon nap that I'll take. I'm thankful for my dog to keep me company. I'm thankful for good memories I have. I'm thankful for Mimi. I'm thankful for what joy she has brought to our family and lessons that she still teaches me today...whether she realizes it or not. Her worth is invaluable to me.

It's Been A Long Time

It's been a long time, been a long time, been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, time...since my last blog post, I mean.
I've been thinking about it for months now.  I've been wishing I had more time, telling myself that I'll do it tonight instead of watching TV, or doing laundry.  Having that third child has rocked my world.  Rocked. My. World.  Bravo, to all you moms who juggle four, five, six, etc.  I bow before you, like Wayne and Garth, and say..."We're not worthy, We're not worthy, We're not worthy, We suck!" (Only us kids who grew up in the 80's/90's will get that one).
Anyway, about 11 months ago, I "grounded" myself from blogging.  I did this because I simply cannot do everything.  CAN-NOT.  I am NOT every woman.  It's NOT all in me.  Anything, you want done, baby.  I do NOT do it, naturally. (Again, I'm dating myself).  Anyway, it's been a struggle for me.  I can't juggle it all-kids, laundry, carpooling, cleaning house, grocery shopping, meal-planning, breast-feeding, cooking, organizer, home-renovator,....there's summer Pinterest activities with the kids during the day, 'sex-kitten' to my husband at night (Sorry, dad), bible study, working the church nursery every Sunday morning, making a meal for the person who recently had a baby...or a surgery...or moved.  At the end of the day, I felt like a failure.  I had good intentions, but I'm only one person, and at some point, I've got to make myself believe that Martha Stewart has an entire entourage of staff who clean her house, and create that amazing garden, and label everything with a label-maker, get the permanent marker stain off her favorite shirt using only "green and organic" solutions that she makes herself, polish silverware, do yoga and "juice",  cooks the best roasted leg of lamb, and hand makes origami place cards for the Thanksgiving table.
I couldn't keep up with it all, and something had to go...so naturally, I punished myself and took away the two things I enjoy most: working out, and writing. Okay, maybe not the the working out.  I mean, I didn't take it away.....as in,...I don't...workout, that is.  I haven't since 2011, maybe 2010, I can't remember, and that's the honest truth.  But, I sacrificed the thing I did for me.  Blogging became something that I told myself I could make time for again, when I got the swing of balancing things better.
But...over these last few months, you know what?  I haven't really made any drastic improvements in managing it well.  It's still a struggle for me...and, that feels like death to a "Type-A" personality, but I really don't see things getting easier any time soon.  My life is not going to slow down in the near future.  Actually, until the boys go off to college, it's only going to get crazier, and more stressful, and more balls will be thrown at me to juggle (That sounds dirty... sorry, I live with four guys, and a male dog.  Naturally, there's a lot of "ball" humor at my house.)
So, I've decided, that once again, my idea of a "good" mother/wife, will have to change.  It will have to include something for me.  I don't want my children to one day leave my nest, and find myself wondering, "Who am I? Who are you, Steph? What are you about? What are your dreams and ambitions? What do you enjoy?"
So, since I've added blogging back onto my list of what's important, I guess something I'll have to sacrifice something else...like perfection.

If You Give A Mom A Muffin...

As moms, we've all read the books by Laura Numeroff...If You Give A Dog A Donut, If You Give A Pig A Pancake, If You Give A Cat A Cupcake, etc.

Yesterday morning I made myself a cup of coffee and by yesterday afternoon, I found my cup of coffee...cold, still sitting in the microwave where I had left it to reheat for the third time..  So,  I thought about this and related to these books.

If you give a mom a muffin, she'll say thank you and tell you how thoughtful it was for you to think of her.  She'll probably want a cup of coffee to go with it.  So, she will make herself a cup of coffee, and ask you how your muffin was.  While you're answering her, she'll see that you have muffin all over your face, so she'll go get you a napkin.  When she brings you your napkin, you'll reach for it and knock over your glass of milk.  So, your mom will get a towel to clean up the spilled milk.  While she's doing this, you'll start to whine because your shirt is cold and wet...so, she will take you upstairs to change your shirt.  Your younger brother sees that you changed your shirt and now he wants to change his shirt.  Your mom will say, "No, the shirt you're wearing is fine.  You're not going to make extra laundry for me to do."  That will remind her that she forgot to switch the laundry over, so she'll go downstairs and pull the laundry out of the dryer to fold.  Your little brother comes down crying because, "Bubba gets to wear long sleeves and I don't!  It's no fair!  I hate short sleeves!" Your mom will set your little brother in time out because of his ugly attitude.  When she turns around, she sees the dog staring at her and she'll wonder if he's been let outside this morning.  She'll let the dog outside and then go give the dog food and water.  While she's doing this she pulls some hamburger out of the freezer to thaw for dinner.  When she's putting the hamburger in the refrigerator, she moves over the container of coffee creamer.  Seeing the coffee creamer will remind her about her cup of coffee.  She'll go to take her first sip and realize that now her coffee is cold, and she'll put her coffee into the microwave.  As she's doing this, she hears the baby crying, and goes to get him from his crib.  She picks up the baby to see that he has had a diaper blowout and now his jammies are messy.  So, she'll change the baby's diaper and jammies, and take the dirty jammies to the washer, where she realizes the wet laundry in the washer has been sitting so long, that now it needs to be rewashed.  She adds soap and fills the washer up with water.  Meanwhile, your little brother is screaming from timeout that he's ready to get up.  She'll go to him and ask, "Why did mommy put you in timeout?" As she's trying to remember herself, why exactly he was sent to timeout, the baby starts crying.  She goes to check on the baby and sees that he's hungry, so she takes the baby to the rocking chair to nurse.  As she's nursing the baby, she takes a moment to herself to check her Facebook account.  She sees interesting posts from her friends about what they pinned on Pinterest, so she tells herself at nap time, she's going to get on Pinterest.  She finishes nursing the baby and makes you and your little brother lunch.  She then serves lunch, empties the dishwasher, loads the dishwasher, clears the table, sweeps the floor, mops the floor, and lets the dog back inside where he then tracks muddy paw prints on the newly cleaned floor.  She begins to look for the mop and realizes that she can't mop the floor because she's out of floor cleaner.  She goes to write down "floor cleaner" on her grocery list and hears you and your little brother fighting.  She walks upstairs to check and sees water all over the bathroom floor and you and your brother in soapy wet clothes.  She looks at you with big eyes and says, "What in the world is this mess about?  I can't leave the two of you alone for five minutes!"  Wearily she takes a big breath and says that she wishes this day was over already.  She starts to clean up the mess and tells you and your brother to change into some dry clothes.  While changing into dry clothes, your brother starts yelling, "I want to wear the Cars underwear."  You tell him no and say you had them first.  He keeps yelling and the yells turn to screams when you finally have enough and hit him.  He starts crying, the baby starts crying, you start crying, because now you know you're in trouble.  Your mom comes in and says, "I've had enough.  Everyone down for naps."  Your mom gets everyone down for a nap and takes a deep breath.  She goes to fold the laundry and remembers that she was going to browse Pinterest during nap time.  She hears her stomach growl and remembers she didn't eat any lunch.  She decides to grab something easy so she can get on the computer and she sees a plate of muffins.  She grabs the uneaten muffin...and chances are....if you give a mom a muffin, she'll want a cup of coffee to go with it.

First Loose Tooth

On March 24th, 2012, Jackson lost his first tooth.  He had been working on wiggling it for a couple weeks.  I was working in the yard and my nephew came running up saying Jack's tooth was bleeding.  Jackson showed Jon and Jon helped to pull it.  The sight of blood usually sends Jack into hysterics.  He thinks he's dying.  But once we cheered and high-fived, he was pumped.  I started to get emotional.  I thought of how that was the first tiny tooth in his little baby mouth.  I remember the picture I took of him in Easter Bunny ears with those two little teeth gleaming in their full glory.  I thought about how this is one of yet another step of him growing up and leaving me.  I waited til he left the room to cry...just a couple tears.

Sampson AKA "Bat Dog"

Sometimes I feel envious of Sampson.  Napping all day...taking a break to eat, go lie in the sunshine, go to the bathroom alone.  Rough life.  But, I don't envy when the boys do things like this.  Batman and Robin needed a partner to fight crime in Gotham City, so Sam graciously stepped in as "man's best friend" is dutifully required to do.  He cannot leap tall buildings in a single bound...he's getting old and arthritic.  He won't chase after the boys unless they're running with a hot dog.  When they say, "Come on, Bat Dog"...he usually yawns and lies down.  But...beggars can't be choosers.  Benji is a much worse choice of a third superhero.  Maybe he likes it.  Maybe he enjoys feeling needed for a few minutes...or even like someone cares.  Because honestly, most of the time I forget he's even here...so sad.  So enjoy your moment in the spotlight Sam..."Bat Dog."

A Little Baseball

A couple weeks ago, we took the boys to a Redhawks ballgame.  I didn't get many pictures of the boys, because I spent most of my time laughing hysterically.

I have the best time watching my boys when they don't know that I'm watching.  The dynamic between the two of them is comical.  Cole is the typical annoying little brother, tagging along with Jack and his friends.  He's mostly a nuisance to them, but I think they kind of enjoy having a little brother that will do just about anything they tell him too.  They seem to use this to their advantage.  I feel badly for the people sitting directly on the third base line.  The boys went down to hopefully catch a fly ball and ended up standing there the entire game.  Cole did have to come back to our seats when I caught him trying to climb the wall and get onto the field.  He said he was just trying to get his cup that he threw at the third baseman...punk kid.

A photo op with Rowdy, the Redhawk.  Jackson had the best time with his buddies, even with no foul ball.  There's no crying in baseball!

First Dinner of Summer

I've tried really hard since we've had children to make Sunday evenings our special family dinner night.  I wanted to make a tradition that my boys will remember and hopefully, continue to come to long after they move out of our home.  On Sundays, I try to fix something a little fancier than sandwiches and I use real dishes and silverware.  I even use cloth napkins because I have a goal of teaching my boys how to eat like gentlemen at dinner.  It's a losing battle, really, I don't know why I even bother.  Someone inevitably gets sent to the corner for burping...or worse, but, hey...a mother can dream, can't she?
This past Sunday, we enjoyed our first summer cookout.  We had barbeque chicken, squash and zuchinni, and tomatoes, all from our garden.  While Jon grilled, the boys had some fun on the Slip n' Slide and we finished the night off with roasting marshmallows and making s'mores.  Perfect Sunday dinner if you ask me.

This boy loves a chicken leg.  Notice the winter footie-jammies....it was only about 100 degrees outside.  Weird kid.

Jack making sure his "mallows" were just right.  I like mine a little burnt, Jackie.

Yeah, that's about perfect.

What a mess...but totally worth it.  Sticky goodness.

Son of a gun...that one was hot!  I'd burn all the skin of the inside of my mouth for a gooey marshmallow...I don't care that bad.

Even Sampson enjoys a s'more every now and then, which makes me giggle.  He loves them, but he hates that his paws get sticky.  I love watching him going crazy picking at his tacky, fuzzy feet all night.  It drives him bonkers...and makes me laugh.  I should've gotten a picture of him.  Enjoy a family dinner this Sunday with your family!

One of Those Days

Yesterday was one of those days....one of those days that I didn't enjoy my job.  The boys woke up at 6:45 that morning.  I promptly sent them back to bed and told them that just because the sun was up, didn't mean that they had to be.  They went back to their room, but not to sleep.  Pretty soon I heard fighting and I gave up and sent them downstairs for chocolate milk and cartoons.  My midnight bedtime and Benji's 3:45am feeding had me feeling a little grouchy that early in the day.  The morning started off with a bang and it continued that way as Benjamin wanted to nurse and be held all day.  My back was and is still killing me from all the holding and nursing and lack of stomach muscles for the last few months.  I had to let him cry it out a lot, which I hate, but I make myself do.  The boys are going stir-crazy already this summer, since we haven't gotten out like we have done other summers.  It's harder now with a newborn in tow.  Seems like the simplest of errands leaves me feeling erratic, overwhelmed, and sweaty....very sweaty.  I never used to sweat in my younger days, but since I've become a mother, stressful situations with my children make me sweat.  For instance, grocery store trips, frantically trying to feed everyone as quickly as possible, "leisurely" neighborhood walks where in our neighborhood, people drive like their on motor speedway, or trying to get all three boys loaded into the car to head out the door.
We had decided to go swimming at a friends' house yesterday afternoon.  I had given myself a two hour head start to pack everything up, make lunches, change into our swimsuits, and get out the door.  Sounds like plenty of time and even a little extra for the unexpected things, but no.  These days, it seems like no matter how much time I give myself, I'm always running 15 minutes late somewhere.  The math does not add up no matter how hard I try, I don't get it.  I break up a couple fist fights, send one to time out for the 17th time, change Ben's diaper...again, I try to get out of my pj's and into my clothes...for the 3rd time.  Somehow, I manage to get everyone packed up and heading toward the car...Ben still screaming (he hates the car seat).  As I'm walking to my car, I remember thinking, "That dumpster smells terrible," referring to our trashcan.  Only, I open the car door and realize the smell is worse inside my car.  Jackson starts yelling, "Gross! What's that smell?" I'm looking under the seats, for shoes or dirty socks, a spoiled bottle, anything to blame the stink on.  I open the back hatch and notice a forgotten grocery bag...with a chicken in it.  "OH...MY...GOSH! Daddy forgot a bag in the back!" I say, just as Cole starts gagging and dry heaving.  I pick it up only to realize it's liquefying and dripping out of the sack.  I toss it in the dumpster and go to grab Cole out of the car before he get sick and makes the smell worse.  Now Cole is crying saying, "I want to go swim, but I don't want to ride in the stinky carrrrrr!"  Ben....still screaming.  Jack...asking a million questions like, "Why did dad do that?  Will our car smell like this forever? Are we going to have to buy a new car?  Can we still go swim?"  I...am sweating...profusely.  And leaking milk through my shirt...and cursing my husband's name.  Motherhood is NOT for punks.
I clean up the mess and hang the car rug on the fence to dry...which reminds me, it wasn't still hanging on the fence when I got home, so either it blew in the backyard from the Oklahoma wind yesterday or someone stole it.  Note to self, go look for that in a few minutes.  Anyway, we get to the pool...in one piece.  Jack, however did look a little green for a while.  Poor baby.
The day eventually turns better when I look through the pictures on my phone and see this...

Gosh, he melts my heart and makes me forget about all the things I hate about my job.  All of them do.  They say the sweetest things, or bring me flowers, or make me a wedding ring out of a flower stem.  I love my boys...and the "paycheck" they give me.

Benjamin Lynn

This post is long overdue, but nevertheless, meet Benji...

Isn't he the most precious thing?  My delivery started out a little unexpected.  I picked the boys up from school and headed to the car wash, where my water broke.  Ironic, huh?  I thought maybe I had left a window down accidentally before driving through the wash.  That, or I wet my pants, but no...water broke...almost three weeks early.  The contractions were brutal, but everything was worth it when I saw this sweetheart.  I'm in love.

6 pounds, 13 ounces, 21 inches of pure love.

I think Jon is pretty crazy about him, too.

The new family...

Three boys...Three, wild, loud, dirty, smelly, mischievous, rambunctious, funny, delightful, wonderful boys.  Frogs, snails, and puppy dog tails....

A Little Summer Fun

Yesterday, we spent the afternoon at my sister-in-law's house.  The boys enjoyed a little summer fun playing on the slip in slide and eating watermelon.  The summer fun turned into messy fun when it became a mud fight, but that's what little boys should be allowed to do once in a while, so we rolled with it.  

Cole enjoying some lemonade.

Cousins and best friends.

Oh, to be a kid again carefree and running in the backyard in your undies...or naked, depending if it was before or after the mud fight, running with tons of energy...nothing jiggling...no concern for the way you look...not caring about the mess...laughing hysterically.  I want to be a kid again.

It Starts Early

Today I took the boys to Target to grab a few items.  While we were there, I decided to stop and take a look at the Father's Day cards for Jon.  Jack and I are picking out funny cards and reading them to each other.  Meanwhile, Cole has been standing in the same spot for the last few minutes...very still, very quiet.  For anyone who knows Cole Andrew, you know this doesn't happen to often.  It didn't make sense to me until he handed me a card and with a guilty look, he asks me to read it.  This is what it looks like....

Geez...I can't imagine what he was staring at!  I've been praying for Cole a little extra hard since the day he was born.  Perv.

Jack's Alopecia Update

A little update on Jack's Alopecia...ladies and gentlemen...we have hair growing back!  I took Jackson to another dermatologist to get a second opinion.  The news was pretty much the same, although I liked him a lot better than the last doctor.  He seemed to have better bedside manner and he eased my mind when he said, "If it were my son....".  That's exactly what I wanted to hear...not statistics, false hope, or "It's very common, don't worry."  I want to hear what the doctor would do if this little boy was his child, because I know every person wants the best for their child.  He didn't give me any magical insight, the verdict was still the same.  It is Alopecia Areata.  It may be progressive, or not.  It can't be cured with anything.  He did suggest a different medication than the last doctor prescribed.  He said this one was a little more aggressive at getting hair growth back and I have noticed hair growth!

The Pursuit of Happiness Update

In my blog entry titled, The Pursuit of Happiness, I blogged about my new goals for the year 2012.  While I had good intentions on keeping up with reading the book and blogging about the process...I haven't.  And since the birth of boy #3 two months ago,  I haven't blogged at all.  My world has flipped upside down and this once organized mother is embracing organized chaos as my new motto.  And, by using the term, "organized chaos", I really just mean chaos.  I haven't cleaned the bathrooms in 8 weeks and you can imagine how those look with two little boys and one big boy (Jon), using those daily.  My laundry is piled in a mountain in my bedroom and this is after my mother-in-law washed and folded all my laundry last week.  She felt sorry for my family, I guess.  She was also trying to help me out since I had surgery...hemorrhoid surgery.  Yes, I've had a pain in the ass for awhile, and this time it wasn't Jon.  It was however, caused by the delivery of all three of my little blessings though.  As embarrassed as I was with admitting to needing this surgery, I'm slowly losing all modesty I once had.  Giving birth and motherhood has this crazy way of doing that to you.  At some point, you quit caring how many people in the delivery room are staring at you as you're spread-eagle in the stirrups giving birth, or when you're trying to breastfeed a screaming infant in public with a blanket over you in 98 degree heat, and your baby yanks the blanket off, or when you're little boy shucks his pants down at the playground and pees.  All these things happen to every mother, every where and so what's the big deal with admitting a little surgery, right?

Anyway, back to the update.  One of my goals was to challenge myself to do more fun things with my boys that were spontaneous and creative, yet cheap.  So many times, our fun involves going somewhere or buying something and I feel like I'm cheating them if I don't try to challenge my generations' way of entertaining kids and bring it back to simplicity.  What I should be embarrassed about it is how my six-year old can operate an iPhone or the remote as well as he does.  A couple things we tried: making rocket packs with old two-liter bottles and pretending to be "rocketeers",  building a blanket fort and eating a picnic lunch inside, using masking tape to make road pathways through the house to drive hot wheels on, "painting" with dyed shaving cream in the bathtub, and last but not least, using glow sticks in the bathtub and taking a bath in the dark.  The boys really enjoyed this last one, and I have to say, I thought it was pretty cool, too.  I love Pinterest.  I can feel like mom of the year, just by copying someone else's ideas...brilliant, since I have no brain cells left these days from lack of sleep.



      

Now to work on my other goal of taking better care of myself.  These days, this could just include getting a shower or brushing my teeth.  I know...gross.  Even to my husband, me taking a shower has become something special.  He walks upstairs and smells my soap and it's almost like hearing Marvin Gaye sing, "Let's Get It On."  He considers it an invitation of romance...men.  Anyway, I'll keep you posted on how that goes.

True Love

I saw this the other day and it reminded me of me and my husband. I hope it is me and my husband in 50 years...this is true love.

Our Hurdle

We've had our first real hurdle this week to contend with in raising children...finding out our child has a disease and it's out of our control. It happened Sunday evening. I was getting the boys out of the bathtub when I noticed a bald patch in Jack's hair. It was about the size of a quarter, right there on the top of his scalp. Needless to say, I was alarmed, and thinking of all the possibilities of what this could be. I asked if his hair got pulled..."No, mom." I asked if he played with my razor..."No, mom. I didn't." I asked if it hurt, if he noticed it, if he felt okay. "I feel fine mommy, I don't know what happened."
In the pit of my stomach, I had a feeling something wasn't right. Jon fixes his hair almost every morning, he would've noticed something like this. Brushing his hair, it was actually difficult to cover up. This couldn't have been there for a long amount of time. Someone would have noticed.
The next morning while getting Jack ready for school, I first checked his head to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Still there. I had been doing research on Google the night before about what this could be and I was almost positive this was Child-onset Alopecia. I hoped I was wrong. Technology can be scary, especially in situations like this. You almost wish you weren't able to get quick information at the touch of a button, online. Then, you worry yourself sick. Jon took Jack to school, and as I walked into our den, I saw it. There was the hair lying on the den rug. I'm not talking a few pieces of hair...it was a handful. There was no way this much hair could've been pulled from his head without him screaming and blood being drawn. This was a lot of hair! It would've taken a lot of force! I noticed all the dark roots were still attached to every strand of hair. His scalp was a perfect pale peach color...no roots showing. It was almost like the hair never existed there to begin with.
We got Jackson into his doctor yesterday morning. She took one look and said, "I was certain you were wrong, I thought this was going to turn out to be ringworm or something, but I'm afraid you're right." My heart sank. Jack was diagnosed with Childhood Alopecia Areata. It's an auto-immune disease where basically the body's immune system, for whatever reason, sees the hair as a foreign invader and attacks it, causing it to fall out in huge clumps. This disease is tricky to treat since it seems every person loses hair at a different rate. Some children may develop one patch and hair grows back, some kids have many giant patches all over their scalp. It can be in remission for years, and all of a sudden come back with a vengeance taking all hair on head, face and body. There's only three treatment options and the doctor said all of them are about as effective as pure luck. There's no cure for this and side-effects of medications bring in a new list of concerns. The good news seems to be that of all auto-immune diseases, this seems to be the least terrible. He's not going to be in pain or have other problems come along. His immune system won't weaken making it harder to fight off other illnesses or diseases. It's not going to kill him....physically, at least. This whole time, I've been telling myself, the worst thing that can happen is that he loses all his hair. But, as a mother...that's not the worst. The worst is that I can't fix this. The worst is that I can't keep people from staring or making fun of him. The worst is that I wonder how this will shape his life and his self-esteem and how he will overcome this hurdle.

Jon was tucking Jack into bed last night. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened as Jack said, "Daddy, I don't want to lose all my hair." Jon began telling Jack about the bible story of Job and how Job had it all and lost everything. He lost all his riches and became poor, lost his family, his health. He became covered with sores and was in excruciating pain. Satan tested Job in every way possible to see if through all of this disaster, if he would turn away from the Lord. But, Job didn't. Even in hardship, Job praised the Lord. Jon told Jack about his hurdle in life. Ever since Jon was a boy, he wanted to play baseball. He dreamed, and worked, and planned. After he got many college scholarship offers, he took probably the worst offer just so he and I could attend college together, in the same state. Injuries kept coming up one after the other and no matter how hard Jon tried to get stronger and nurse wounds, his body wouldn't let him keep playing. He was devastated about that loss of that dream. But Jon told Jack, how he knew that God was telling him that baseball wasn't what he had planned for his life. Jon said to Jack, "God allowed me to not succeed in baseball, so that I could marry mommy and have three boys to love. God had a better plan. "
I walked into the room and Jack asked me what my challenge was. I explained to him how I didn't have a great childhood and how I longed to be a part of a close, loving, family. My mom's mental illness has been my hurdle. We talked about kids in Jack's class. One little boy is in a wheelchair and still wears diapers. He will never walk. I asked, "But, he hasn't lost his joy, right Jack?" "No, Malachi is still really happy even though he can't run with us on the playground." I asked him to name someone else in his class, and what their challenge might be. He mentioned his friend who doesn't have a dad. "His dad lives a long way away and he has another family and he never comes to see him."
"So, everyone has a challenge right, Jack?," I asked. Jon chimed in, "And just like Job, we're going to praise God in easy times, and in the rough times."
Please keep us in your prayers as we are referred to a dermatologist next week. Hopefully, he will have some more answers for us then.