The Summer I Drank Hot Coffee

When I first had kids, I didn’t drink coffee. I just didn’t care for it or think I needed it. But at some point in the last 6.5 years I grew up, bought a coffee pot, and started drinking. At first it was the super milky, sugary stuff. Now I drink it with just a little half and half. Sometimes I drink it black. Yes, I’m that hardcore. But for a while, I pretty much gave up drinking hot coffee. I got sick of sticking it in the microwave. I resorted to iced coffee.

This summer has been different. There have been a few times my kids have been at grandparents. Yes, all 3. Sometimes I just have one kid. For 3 nights I had no kids and no husband. Just the dog and me. I don’t think that has ever happened before.

And I’m not going to lie, it’s been nice. I’ve had several cups of hot coffee. When my older 2 kids were gone for several days, I got to enjoy time with the youngest. It was incredible to focus on one child. I actually got down on the floor and played Mr. Potato Head and did puzzles. It dawned on me that I’ve never had a 2 year old and not either been pregnant or had a newborn. That means I actually feel like doing something more than sitting on the couch and praying for naptime.

This week all my kids are back around. There is no camp or VBS to attend. We can sleep in and wear PJs all day if we want. I did acquiesce and took my kids to the library this week. I should love the library, but for some reason I always leave beyond stressed. My kids look at me with those eyes that say, “please, please take us to the library where we can read tons of books and better ourselves and be amazing contributors to society.” But all I think of is the temper tantrums and the million books my kids will pull off the shelves, and the fighting over the computer.

 But like I said, I gave in this week. And my youngest had numerous tantrums, and each child chose 50 bazillion books, and then I ran into a friend. Thank goodness she was there, because I was then able to go to the bathroom by myself. And she watched me struggle. She knows…she has three kids. One kid would drop his library books, then the other would drop her library card, then the other would drop his library card while trying to pick up the books, then the two year old would through a fit, then the middle child would roll her eyes at my friend’s son who was just trying to be polite to her. People, I just don’t have enough hands to go to the library by myself. So my sweet friend asked her middle school aged son to carry our books to the checkout counter. And I was still struggling, so she had him walk with us to the parking garage and put our books in the car. I felt like I needed to tip him. But the only tip I could have given was, “Hey buddy, when you’re old and married and want to have kids, maybe don’t have one every 2 years.”

Another dear friend of mine warned me to not have kids this close together. She told me to wait until one got in school before going for #3. And I love her and respect her, but I didn’t listen. I told a friend the same thing… “Well it is easier if you wait a little bit longer.” But she didn’t listen to me. In fact, I’m pretty sure she was pregnant within the week. Because when we want kids, we want them. And we know it’s going to be crazy, but we just want them. And sometimes we go crazy because God doesn’t give them to us exactly when we want them.

I was thankful for this week when all the kids were back home. I smiled at our first meal together because this is exactly what I wanted when I was a kid. A table full of kids. Silly kids, messy kids, life-loving kids. And I want to pull my hair out over this table of kids some days, but it’s still exactly what I want. Hot coffee, cold coffee, no coffee. I’ll take it however; I just want these kids. And the truth is that I probably should stop writing this sappy stuff because my coffee is getting really cold.

Going to the Big K

Last week (more like 2 months ago), I dropped my firstborn off at kindergarten. With my 3 year old thinking she was in kindergarten, and with my 1 year old in tow, I helped him find his assigned seat. I hung around for a few minutes, and then it was time. “I love you. Have a great day!”

“No, Momma. Don’t leave. No!” He held onto my leg and cried. He never does that.

“I love you, but I’ve got to go. You’ll have fun.”

I peeled him off of me, walked towards the door, and left him crying in a room full of kids and a teacher he didn’t know. Tears filled my eyes. My heart ached…a lot. Was this the right thing to do? Should I homeschool him tomorrow? Should I enroll him in the private, half day school down the street? 

I remember that feeling of being all alone. My parents dropped me off at college. I was in a new city, and I didn’t know a single person at my school. I went to my dorm room and cried for about 5 minutes. It was short lived because I knew college was going to be one of the best experiences of my life…and it was. My hopes for G were the same. The parting would be difficult, by the experience priceless.

One week later, I don’t even walk him to his room. He jumps out of the car rider line every morning. Sometimes I get a kiss. “Hey Graham!” said a little girl with a Frozen backpack as he exited the car yesterday. He walked in with his friend. I’m used to accompanying him on play dates and knowing the moms and kids, but I only know this friend as Frozen Backpack Girl. And that’s okay. I’ve got to let him go.

He comes home from school telling me about the science lab and playing with the parachute in gym class. “It was AWESOME!” he yells. He tells me all about getting his lunch on a little tray. He asks if he can ride the bus.

It’s a long day without him here with me. I check the clock a lot. I wonder what he’s doing. I pray for his protection. I pray that he’s taught truth. I pray that when he isn’t taught truth, he will be able to distinguish it. I pray for good friends. And I wait for him to come home. And I trust. I trust a whole lot. I miss that kid like crazy, but I have faith that this is good for him and our family.

My How Life Has Changed

6 years ago, I woke up at 5:15 every morning.  I got dressed in business casual. I got in my car and made the 45 minute commute. I investigated claims, reviewed medical records, looked at pictures of auto accident fatalities, conversed with insureds, claimants, attorneys and engineers throughout the day. I took an hour break for lunch. I listened to whatever music I wanted to listen to on the drive home. I made dinner for 2, talked with my husband, watched some TV, and went to bed.

6 years later I wake up to a baby crying or “Momma, I wet the bed,” or “Momma, can I choose something to watch?” I roll out of bed and ask my 2 blondes and 1 ginger if they’re hungry. The youngest nods her head vigorously. The middle child wants goldfish and asks if she can eat dessert if she finishes her goldfish. I ask her if she’s kidding. She’s not.

I blink and it’s 10 am. We’re all in our PJs. I think, “I should go to the gym,” but then I see the redhead rubbing her eyes. “Oh yeah, that probably won’t work.” So I lay her down. My oldest asks if I can play Ninja Turtles. All I can think to say is, “Party dude!” and “Can we eat some pizza?” I think of all the things I should be doing, but he loves it, so I oblige him for a few minutes.

I finally get around to asking the middle child why there is a huge puddle of water under the kitchen table. I noticed it about 30 minutes ago, but I’m just now getting around to doing anything about it. “I peed on the floor,” she says in a matter of fact tone. I have no idea how there could be that much pee and why she would do it. We potty trained a year and a half ago.  

A friend comes over for a play date. We sit down and drink coffee. We try to talk, but I’m not sure that we get in more than 2 sentences before there are continual interruptions.

“Yes, hopefully you can have an Elsa birthday.”

“We might be able to buy My Little Pony panties.”

“No you cannot have a cookie after breakfast tomorrow.”

“Please don’t interrupt while I’m talking.”

“I guess Ninja Turtles are kinda like superheros.”

“Someone smells stinky, who?”

"Please stop interrupting.”

“You’re tummy is tired everyday, please go play.”

“Is it really important? Please stop interrupting.”

No wonder friendships aren’t the same now as when I was in college. We could sit in the dorm room or in a coffee shop talking about life for hours. Now I have little time to even think about life, let alone talk about it.

It’s time for lunch. I could have sworn I just fed them breakfast. The plates from breakfast are still on the table, so why get another plate dirty? I turn on the Children's Folk Songs station on Pandora. The kids ask to make their own lunches. I let them. Soon peanut butter is everywhere. I know my husband wouldn’t be able to stand the mess, but I smile at their peanut butter and Nutella faces. “We forgot to pray!” I yell. So with half eaten plates, we bow our heads and thank the King of all Kings for his daily graces. In my heart I thank him for my Ninja Turtle lover, my spunky Frozen princess, and the redhead. I smile at the chaos in front of me and think about Instagramming a picture of my kitchen. My life has changed a lot in less than 6 years. I think how in 6 more years this kitchen will probably be a lot cleaner and quieter but with no peanut butter and Nutella faces smiling back at me every single day at 11:30. And so I pause. I pause to give Him thanks.

For the Mommas: Having Babies Ain't for Sissies

Having babies ain't for sissies. And I'm not talking about all the stuff that women go through during pregnancy. All the aches and pains and morning sickness, being kicked and prodded and having things stuck up you. It's rough. But I'm talking about actually having the baby and then life immediately after baby.

One minute you have this life inside of you that no one else really knows like you know. And then suddenly he's out in the world for everyone to see. Something so private, so personal is now out in the public. And it's wonderful to meet your baby, but you still find yourself putting your hand on your tummy or feeling something inside like a kick. Oh wait, I'm not pregnant anymore. Can't be a kick.

The nurse gives you the baby, and at first you think it's just so you can hold him. But then you realize you're supposed to feed the baby. "Hmm...how exactly is that supposed to work?" Your arms are awkward; your baby is awkward. You just don't know what body parts are supposed to go where. So you call the lactation nurse. And if you haven't already, you let go of all modesty.

After you have the baby, you feel pretty special for a few days. You have breakfast, lunch, and dinner (as disgusting as it may be) brought to you in bed. You have visitors. You receive gifts. You are full of joy. And yet there's another side to it.

When the the nurse first tells you to get up and walk (keep in mind I've only had c-sections), you look at her like she's come from another planet. "Ummm excuse me, but my insides might completely fall out if I do what you are requesting." But with moaning and gritted teeth and crying on your husband's shoulder you somehow make it to the bathroom. Forget pulling down your underwear. There's no way you can handle that yet. Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

People come and see you. And you look like death. I know there are some of you women out there who look as good as you did on your wedding day, but I'm just not like that. I wish I were, and I can't say I'm not a little jealous of those post-baby beauties. But seriously, I look like I just died. My face is pale. My lips are peeling. My eyes have deep, dark circles under them. And I'm supposed to take lots of pictures like that?

And then they tell you it's time to take your baby home. And if it's your first time, you try to look like everything is fine, but inside you're thinking, "Are they crazy? I have no idea what I'm doing. I babysat in high school but never took care of infants. I still get nervous that I'm putting the diaper on wrong. I might forget something. Don't you need a degree in Parentology to take this kid home?" But, you go through the motions and get cute pics of the baby in the car and pray that your mom is at the house to help you get this baby bathed and dressed because he might wear this sweet going home gown for the rest of his life.

And once all your relatives leave your home, and once your husband goes back to work, you think, "What in the world am I doing? Are you sure I can do this BY MYSELF?" You go to Target to get out of the house and people say he's cute. And you want to say, "Do you know what I just went through? I just had a baby inside me and it was pulled, pushed, vacuumed, tugged, or cut (you chose the method) out of me days ago." But everyone just smiles at your baby. You're glad they smile, but you think people just don't get it. He was just INSIDE me. He's more than just cute. It's pretty miraculous that he's here. And it's pretty miraculous that I'm still here. And you continue to walk through the store with breasts like anatomical bombs that might explode at any moment. Or maybe you just get depressed when you pass the nursing bras and hooter hiders because you're one of the ones who can't feed your baby.You try on some clothes but determine that there no longer exists a size that fits you. Liz Lange for life!

You leave with a pack of diapers and some Mylicon drops and get in the car. What do you know? There is a radio commercial for St. Jude kids and you burst into tears. You go to Walgreens to pick up some medicine and they have the wrong insurance information. You burst into tears again. And you just can't stop crying. And it's embarrassing. And you feel like you have absolutely NO CONTROL over your emotions. But you need to stop crying because you have this adorable baby, and everyone will think you are sorry you had a baby if you don't stop crying.

You see, having a baby can make you a bit of a crazy person. It can make you pretend that you're something you're not. You feel like you need to prove to everyone that you know what you're doing, but the truth is all us parents are trying to figure it out. We're trying to make sure we don't screw our kids up by buying the bottle that causes tooth decay and we're debating on whether we should eat peanut butter while nursing because it could either give our kid an allergy to it or make him not have an allergy at all.

I just had my third kid, and I still don't feel qualified for this job. I've only been doing it for 4 1/2 years. It's rough having babies. It's the most natural thing in the world and yet the most unnatural thing in the world at the very same time. And it's precious and wonderful, but man, it just ain't for sissies.

The Crazy Life

So let me just sum up our last 10 months for you. Beginning in October we found out we were expecting #3, we celebrated Lucy's 2nd birthday, put our house on the market, sold our house in a few days, celebrated mine and Jeff's birthdays and 7th anniversary, bought a new house, celebrated Graham's 4th, potty trained LP, got put on bedrest for 3 months, became an aunt, found out I was going to become an aunt again, had a baby, had surgery on a kidney stone, cried, laughed, survived.

Norah Kate is 8 weeks old today and needless to say it's been a crazy few months since we first found out we were having another kiddo. All the chaos has made me a crazy person at times, but I'm thankful that it seems we are settling down and things are getting back to normal, our new normal.

I have many posts that I started over the last several months, but none that I've completed. I guess that speaks to what my life is like these days. It's just incredibly hard to get anything finished. I'm trying to come to terms with that. I'm trying take in all the baby smiles, smells, and cuddles in the middle of the night. I'm trying to cherish the last year I have with Graham before he goes to Kindergarten and enjoy being with my spunky, sweet Lucy. It's hard to appreciate life when your older two are fighting and the other needs to eat every time you try to nap or eat something yourself, but it's a sweet time nonetheless. I'm thankful to not have to sit on the couch anymore. I'm glad to be able to take care of my kids by myself. As Lucy said the other day, "Mommy are you better now? Can you play with us now?" Yes, LP, I can finally play with you. Let's just hope I have the time!

Ahhhhhhh!

"I wunna wash my face, Mommy. I wunna wash my face," said Lucy. What kind of mom is going to argue with that? "No you can't wash your face, my child."

"Ok, Lucy. Go wash your face." She left the room, and it kept her occupied. But at some point I thought she was being too quiet. I peeked into the bathroom and there she was dipping toilet paper into the toilet and then rubbing the water all over her face! "Ahhhhhhhhh!" I yelled. I'm not a germ freak, but I really don't like toilets. Especially when toilets come into contact with mouths. I threw her in the bathtub. That's the only way I knew how to decontaminate her face. Graham wanted to hop in with her.

A few minutes later, "Ahhhhhh!" I yelled. Of course they would try making the bathtub a wave pool. That's what all kids do. Just turn the bathtub into a water park? For some reason my kids think the slope in the tub is a water slide  Not cool. So not cool. The bathroom floor was sopping wet. This is what kids do on that nanny TV show, right? I mean, I don't even know the name of the show because there's no need to watch it because my kids aren't that bad, right? Real kids...my kids don't do that, right? What was I to do?

"Get out and go to your rooms!" I quickly dried them off and sent them to their rooms. I was in the middle of an important phone call, and that seemed like the easiest fix. They were out of control, but I could control them once I sent them to their rooms. Logical? Of course so!

"Ahhhhhhh!" While I'm wrapping up my conversation, I see little naked bottoms running from one room to the other jumping on the beds. Yes, it was one of those days. One of those days that doesn't seem very real and yet so real at the same time. One of those days when you think, "How am I ever going to take care of 3 kids?"  But somehow, someway God just gives you the grace to get through it even though you might be an eligible contestant for a parenting show. We all have moments like this. Hmm...at least I think we do.

My Little Super Hero

"Why does Batman wear a cape?" I could tell from the start that this conversation was getting serious. I didn't let the topic of Batman fool me. I was talking to my son which is a lot like talking to myself. There is no simple answer. "Ummm. Because it's part of his costume," I replied. "You mean Batman is pretend?" I stammered and thought and stammered and thought some more. "But he's a SUPER HERO!" Graham exclaimed.

I found myself in a discussion with my 3 year old that I wasn't sure how to handle. I mean, of course I didn't want to lie to him. But I also saw him looking at me with eyes that seemed to say, "Mom, please, please, please, don't tell me Batman isn't real. I just don't think my heart can take it." So I didn't lie, and I didn't tell him the truth either. I avoided the truth which might be the same as lying. I started to tell him about Batman being pretend, and then I ended with the "it's complicated" statement that I use when I just don't think either of us are ready for a conversation. Because Batman is a complicated conversation...trust me.

Needless to say, super heroes have been on the brain. In the mornings I ask him what he dreamt about. "Super heroes!" is always his reply. It's like something happened to him overnight, and he became obsessed. I know diddly squat about super heroes, but I'm falling in love with them myself. I've never seen G light up the way he does when he talks about Spider Man, Batman, Iron Man and Captain America. And if you ask him why he loves super heroes so much, he replies, "Because they SAVE people!" Why wouldn't you like someone who SAVES people?

I had the rare opportunity to spend the last few days just with G alone. We went to the movies, played in the rain, painted pottery, got ice cream, drank hot chocolate, and of course went to super hero night at Chick-fil-a. I've loved my time with him. I've never had a day alone with him since Lucy has been born, and it was so special to me. Most of the time I spent hanging out with Spider Man or Captain America, but I also got some quality time with G himself. It was priceless, and I'm thankful for every day I have with my own, personal super hero.

Gospel Whispers

And I'm finally sharing a post much of which I wrote months ago. Please forgive me. Life's been crazy.



Well there's been a lot of hard playing around here lately. Digging in rocks. Swimming in the baby pool. Playing in the sprinkler. Eating snow cones. We've summerfied our house. We even made a trip to Target to get new sidewalk chalk, bubbles, and large paper for finger painting. I guess it's my summer survival kit.

There's been lots of baseball playing. Graham loves him some sports. He wants to spend the afternoon either playing football or baseball. Thakfully, there's also been a lot of helmet wearing too. Lucy loves walking around the house and yard with Graham's Batman bicycle helmet. She just so happened to be wearing it as he wacked her head (by accident) when he was playing baseball. Disaster adverted all because of her obsession with that helmet.

There's also been a lot of fighting around here. One kid takes something away. The other kid yanks it back. Lots of screaming. Even some hitting. There's been lots of frustrations. Lucy has been dragging Graham's Humpty Dumpty around the house and saying, "My baby. My baby." To which Graham replies "Lucy, NO! That is not a baby! It's Humpty Dumpty!" Who would have thought that calling Humpty Dumpty a baby was a crime? Apparently it is. It's one of those absurd laws that our state has had for years.




And because of all the fighting, there's been lots of I'm sorrys around here and lots and lots of hugs. Now that Lucy is talking a lot more, she goes up to Graham and says, "sorry," while giving him a huge hug. And then inevitably this bear hug results in a wrestling move (because that's only natural, right?), and one of the kids gets hurt during the process of apologizing. So we go through the day stacking I'm sorrys on top of I'm sorrys because we hurt each other in the midst of our apologies. And to be completely honest, G and LP aren't the only ones having to say "I'm sorry." I get my fair share of I'm sorrys in too because of course I'm not always calm, cool, and collective during chaos or even during moments of peace.

There's been lots of sweet moments. Reading books together. Graham and Lucy playing peacefully in the backyard and laughing so hard at one another even though neither knows what is so funny. There's been some sharing. There's been some helping one another. There's been Graham trying to teach the Westminster Catechism to LP and also instructing her on how to mow the lawn. And there's been some gospel sharing. There is nothing much sweeter than hearing my husband whisper the gospel to Graham every Sunday as communion is being served. These moments put a smile on my face. These moments give me delight...delight that is deep.



So that's what's been going on around here. Nothing perfect. Nothing extraordinary. Just two kiddos trying to figure out who they are and Jeff and I trying to figure out the best way to love them, nurture them, discipline them, and teach them about Jesus. It's just real, ordinary life. But, I hope one day those gospel whispers stir up something extraordinary in the hearts of my kids.

He Did Nuffin' Wrong

Today, yes three days before Easter, it dawned on me that we haven't talked that much about Easter around our house. During Christmas it seemed like we spent a whole month talking about what Christmas really was. But not for Easter.

So, today I asked Graham what Easter was about. He first said, "it's about celebrating Easter!" So good of him to define it with the word Easter. "No...tell me what Easter is really all about." He quickly said, "about God being alive." You got it G. It's about Jesus (who is God) being alive.

We talked about Jesus dying on the cross, and then Graham said, "He didn't do nuffin' wrong. And he still had to die." Yep. He did absolutely nuffin' wrong. And he's the one who had to die. That's what makes grace so amazing, so sweet. We have a Savior that loves us so much. He came to this earth, did nuffin' wrong, died for us, and then didn't stay in that tomb. He rose from the dead and is seated at the right hand of the Father. That is what Easter is about.

I told Graham that Jesus loved us so much that he died for us. Then Graham said, "He loves you even when ya'll yell at me." Why did you have to bring up my sin...again? But, yes, my sweet Graham. He loves Daddy and I even when we yell at you. I pray that one day G really grasps what he told me today. I pray that one day he will be able to say with full understanding that he is a sinner. And normally I get so frustrated when he makes excuses with the word "but." However, one day, I pray he can proudly say, "I mess up all the time. I'm a huge sinner....but Jesus." The only excuse I don't mind hearing is, "but Jesus...but Jesus died for me. But Jesus has given me faith. But Jesus paid it all." I'm waiting for the day to hear those words come out of his heart and not just his mouth. I do things wrong all day long, but Jesus, sweet Jesus? No, he did nuffin' wrong. Not one trace of evil is in him. Praise be to God!

An Excavator?

So, Graham has been 3 for two months, but the pictures have been stuck on a camera. Graham had a fun excavator birthday party. If you had asked me what an excavator was three years ago, I would have tried to change the subject while secretly researching "what is an excavator?" on my iphone (Oh wait, I still had my 1980's phone then). But today, I can proudly point out a tractor, excavator, bulldozer, and front loader. And contrary to my former belief, they are not all the same.

You see, that's what happens when you have a boy. You learn about heavy machinery, and you too get excited when you spot one in a field. Your heart beats a little faster when you notice that it has tracks and not wheels. It's just something that happens when you have a boy. Since Graham "digs" excavators, I had to let go of my tendency to do a sweet little baby party and give him a big boy one!(To be honest it is hard to only find excavators so it was more of a construction party). Jeff's mom made the cake and let Graham decorate it with heavy machinery. Graham had a blast with that.

We also filled a kiddie pool with pea gravel so he could do a little excavating of his own. It was a fun, manly birthday for our sweet 3 year old.

Don't Judge Me

A few weeks ago, the whole family was at Target, and Jeff watched the kids as I looked at some clothes. They were doing some remodeling, so there was a huge open space that the kids took advantage of. Graham and Lucy were running around, tackling each other, and laughing hysterically. They were a little loud, but they were cute.

Finally one young woman said, "It so nice to see a family with two kids who aren't about to kill each other. They are so cute. My son looks a lot like your son, and I'm expecting my second." I replied with something like, "Oh thank, you. They're pretty fun." And then I went on my way with my head held a little higher. She thought my family was cute and sweet. Brownie points for me!

Just imagine if the very next day, I happened to be at a book store during story time. And just try to picture my one year old throwing tantrums and my 3 year old refusing to share (This is all hypothetical of course). And then imagine me saying, "Graham, if you don't share, we are going to leave." And then picture me actually following through with this threat and my 3 year old screaming hysterically as I drug him and his sister out of the store. It was embarrassing. I had never had an experience quite that intense as far as tantrums go. And of course I wondered what the other parents thought of me and both of my kids. Brownie points deducted.

So don't judge me and my family if you see us being all cute and sweet to each other. If you run into me at the grocery store and see me telling my kids about every fruit and vegetable and what letter it starts with and what country it comes from, please don't judge me. I'm not always like that. And if you see me out at a restaurant and my kids are throwing food on the floor, screaming at the top of their lungs, and you see me scolding them or maybe ignoring them...don't judge me. I'm not always like that either.

You see, sometimes I look like I'm the good mom and I'm always attentive and always teaching and always gently rebuking my kids when they mess up. And sometimes I'm the bad mom telling my kids they can have a cookie after they're good at the grocery store and then stuffing one in their mouth at the beginning of the trip just to keep them from crying. In any given day, hour, or even minute I might do something that the world thinks as good and something that the world thinks as bad. And sometimes I'm confused about what really is the good mom thing to do and what really is the bad mom thing to do. And when I feel so overwhelmed, that I might not survive the little years, I rest on Jesus and trust that through my good mom moments and through my bad mom moments, He reigns supreme. Nothing...absolutely nothing can thwart his plans for me and my kids. To think otherwise would be giving myself or someone else too much credit. If you do feel the need to judge, may I direct you to my Savior who is perfect, blameless, and abounding in steadfast love. If I'm going to be judged, I'd like to be judged in light of my Jesus on whom all my hope is fixed. My bad mom days and even my good mom days are covered by his grace and his grace alone.

To the Moon And Back

I'm not sure when I'll stop getting sentimental and nostalgic over birthdays. It hasn't happened yet. It's a sweet day for me, and I hope my kids feel its special for them too. Like a video, I play the events in my head that led up to Graham's birth. It was a rough day. But being removed from that day by three years, I can say it was a beautiful day. I remember the hard things about the weeks that led up to Graham's birth, but I also remember seeing my first child for the first time, and nothing can put a damper on that.

This year was fun because Graham was definitely aware that it was his birthday. Jeff and I blew up balloons and threw them all over Graham's room last night. I also taped streamers to his doorway. When he woke up this morning, I heard him crying for me.
"What's wrong Graham?"
"The balloons don't have strings! What happened to the strings? The ones at Chick-fil-A have strings!"

He was seriously crying over the balloons. Not exactly the response I was looking for. I guess the boy likes balloons with helium!

Then, I made him some pancakes with sprinkles and M&M's on top. He blew out the candles in his pancakes, and then ate the M&M's. That was all he had for breakfast...M&M's. We went to Bible Study, the park for lunch, and Graham's favorite restaurant for dinner. We had lots of phone calls, texts, Skype conversations, snail mail, and Jib Jab e-cards. And then I curled up with Graham on the couch and read him On The Night You Were Born. After the story, we flipped threw a photo book from his first year of life and talked about the day he entered the world.

So it was a normal day, and it was a special day all at the same time. Sometimes parents think their kids hung the moon, and for just a moment please allow me to think that too. He's a full of life, fun-loving, imaginative, tenderhearted, hot dog eating, football loving, sweet big brother and son. And I love him to the moon and back.

Something's Gotta Give

Despite the fact that my husband is against New Year's resolutions, I obliged him to set "goals" with me for 2012. We had some of the typical and unrealistic goals that everyone else and their mother also set this year. But we also talked about how we want to pray for our kids after we put them to bed at night and how we want to read through the Bible in the next year. It probably won't happen. But you gotta aim high, right?

I also started contemplating the million other things that I would love to do in the coming year. I want to be more organized. I want to have birthday cards ready to send out to every friend and relative. I want to have lesson plans for my kids each week. I want to cook amazing yet healthy food. I want to sew some of my kids' clothes. I want to learn to take good pictures. I want to read more Classics. I want to read more theological books. I want to plant a garden. I want to can foods from my garden. And so on. And so on. I didn't really write all these things down on my official goal list, but they were thoughts just lingering around. My mind started going crazy with all the things I would like to be better at. And the list became exhausting. Really it did. Something's gotta give. And just what would it be?

A wise woman in my church said that we should pray every morning, "God show me what you would have me do today." I think those will be the first words from my heart every morning. (Please ignore the fact that this is probably another unrealistic goal). I might have to throw my goals to the wayside so I can do what God would have me do each day. Because the problem is that they are my goals, and they may not be God's goals. I'm not convinced that setting resolutions are bad, but I am convinced that they are burdensome and destructive when they become idols. My resolutions should never ever interfere with the answer to this simple question, "What would God have me do TODAY?"

So I rest in Jesus. I rest in him who has lived a perfect life and has finished the race for me. I surrender each day and all my goals to him and hope and pray that I do what he would have me do every moment of my life. Something's gotta give. Something's gotta give me hope, and peace, and patience, and gentleness when my goals aren't met and even when my goals are met lest I become prideful and arrogant. Rest in Jesus my dear friends. Rest in his abounding love and free grace in this new year.

Starting the New Year With A Bang!

I'm starting the New Year out with a bang...that is...in the kitchen of course. I decided I would make my friend's 8 minute tomato soup. I wanted something besides a grilled cheese or PB&J, and I could handle 8 minutes. First, I put the soup in a pot that was too small...the cream quickly overflowed. Next, I moved the soup to be pureed in the blender. I turned it on and was nearly frozen in shock. Hot tomato soup flying all across myself and the entire kitchen. I couldn't find the "Off" button soon enough. Needless to say, 8 minute soup turned into 45 minute soup by the time I got myself, my cabinets, and my appliances all clean. To be honest, it's almost 4 in the afternoon, and I still haven't cleaned it up completely. I know I'm a domestic goddess. Really, really, you don't have to flatter me with compliments on my awesome cooking and cleaning skills.

I've set some goals for myself this year which I hope to post about later, but I think I have a goal to set for Graham: learn to get dressed by himself. I asked him to completely dress himself this morning. What did I find? Graham with his underwear on backwards, his shirt on backwards, and his jeans on backwards. I think we may need to work on that! When I tell him he needs to turn his underwear around, he always replies, "But I like it that way! I can't see Thomas if I turn it around." Those silly underwear makers. Why do they sometimes put the design on the rear end part of the underwear? My kid wants to see the Mickey Mouse, the Thomas, the Buzz Light Year!

So that's life in 2012 so far. Disasters in the kitchen, backwards clothing, and Miss Lucy Paige who is so proud of herself and her new found skill...walking! Go Lucy!

He Makes Me Smile

It's been a busy 6 weeks. In addition to all the normal craziness surrounding the holidays, Jeff and I both celebrated our birthdays and our 6th anniversary. Despite the chaos, it's been full of delight. Graham loved Christmas last year, but this year it's at a whole new level. I just stared at him and watched the delight in his eyes as he watched the The Polar Express one night. I swear his eyes were sparkling!

Graham just makes me smile...especially at Christmas. His imagination, his choice of words, and his facial expressions just make my day. Here are a few of Graham's humorous holiday quotes:

"He's a mean one. Mr. Munch."

Graham's review of the movie White Christmas. - "I don't like the shooting. I DO like the singing!"

After we returned home from a Christmas Eve party, he had this conversation with himself: "I didn't think they were going to have cookies. But they did have cookies. (short pause) Silly Graham!"

He also told his Grandma that Santa was stinky...probably because of his reindeer.

After he got a candy cane from the Santa at preschool, he said, "It tastes like cement." His teacher stated, "You mean it tastes like peppermint?"
"No, like cement," Graham said.

Needles to say, he makes my heart melt.

Lingering

A year ago, I cried when I met our sweet Lucy. When I saw her, her hair looked black. Her skin was dark. Some people called her my little Hispanic baby. But, now her jaundice is gone...her skin looks like mine. And her hair is light brown...looks like it might turn blonde. She's got beautiful blue eyes, and her cheeks are still just as full if not fuller than the day she was born. She still has those precious dimples.

I've been a little emotional today. I've thought about what a whirlwind this last year has been. But I have tried to treasure this year a little more than I did the first time. This time I knew how quickly it would go by. This time I knew that 3:30 am feedings wouldn't last forever. This time I knew she wouldn't always want to lay her head on my chest. This time I knew that before long I would be tucking her into a big girl bed, potty training, and dropping her off for her first day of preschool. And so I was able to stay a little more sane during those crazy first days, weeks, months.

I linger after she's fallen asleep in my arms, because I know these moments are precious. Before long I'll be at my daughter's wedding. Maybe I'll be reading excerpts from this blog at her rehearsal dinner. And I'll continue to linger over all those "firsts" knowing that they may soon be her "lasts."

I don't want to forget this first year. I want to always remember her contagious, uncontrollable laugh. I want to remember her blowing kisses all day long. I want to remember how she adores her brother and how she plays cars and trains with him. I want to remember the crazy dance she does every time she hears music. I can't forget how she cries when she sees the cow at Chick-fil-A or how she tears up when I simply say the word, "No." I can't forget how she would probably be content with me holding her all.day.long.

I love Lucy like crazy, and I can't wait to see what a beautiful woman she becomes. I can't wait to see what God does in her life. Happy First Birthday Lucy Paige. I'm so blessed to be your mom.

Carrots

Shepherd's Pie and honey glazed carrots were for dinner. Graham wouldn't touch the Shepherd's Pie. He just kept asking for more carrots. "I'm so glad you love carrots, Graham. Did you know that carrots are so good for you? They help you see better." (By the way is this just an old wives tale? Hope I wasn't lying to him.) Anyway, after a few helpings of carrots, I insisted that the boy eat some meat and taters. A few minutes later Graham looks at me with his eyes halfway closed.
"I can't see! I can't see!"
"Why are you saying you can't see?"
"Because I need more carrots."
And so manipulation begins. Or maybe it just continues.

My Mommy Confession

I confess that I feel guilty when I let my kids watch a TV show, and I feel proud when I've read them two books in one day. I confess that I consider myself a good mom when I've cooked a meal from scratch and when we've done a craft at home. I confess that sometimes I determine whether I've had a good day or bad day based on if my kids have taken their naps or not. I confess that I think I have the ability to make my kids smart, beautiful, and a follower of Jesus. I confess that I often care more about how my children act in public than their actual hearts. I confess that I compare my children to other people's children. I confess that I judge other people's parenting skills. I confess that I'm insecure about my own parenting skills. I confess that sometimes I put more thought into the cute outfits I want my kids to wear than in my children's salvation. I confess that I'm really just a screwed up human being desperately hating my never stopping sins who is asking God to do something amazing, life giving, and eternal in the hearts of my children. I confess that despite my fleeting, doubting ways, I want Jesus for myself, and I so fervently want Jesus for my children.

School Days

So G started school today. We've been talking about it non-stop for the past few weeks, but today he cried like a baby when I left him. What happened? He was so excited about it. His teacher sent me a text a few minutes later saying that he cried for about 10 seconds. So, that makes me feel a lot better about how the day will go. He loves kids and having activities to do, so I think he's gonna love it! I guess I was a little anxious too, because I left without even grabbing my wallet. But I did remember my two kids, G's backpack, and a lunch. I hope I'm not forgetting something else. I guess we'll see how the first day went this afternoon.

My Front Door

If you ask me, the front door wreath is always a great clue to what the rest of a person's house looks like. It's one of the areas where someone can be creative on the outside of the house. Because let's face it...some of us don't like the outside of our house nearly as much as we like the inside of our house. I'm embarrassed to say that until recently, I never had a wreath on my door. That is until I found one I loved.

About a year and a half ago I fell in love with this wreath posted on the Purlbee website. I started following the templates, and it morphed into the wreath pictured above which is hanging on my front door. Everyone has been posting about felt and yarn wreaths these days. I absolutely love them. I have had this wreath up for a while, so I'm looking for some inspiration for a new one. Maybe I'll try Lydia's yarn wreath, or maybe I'll try this wreath with the burlap I have laying around. I'm just not sure. Let me know if you have ideas. If I don't hurry, it will be Christmas before I have something up!