Rejection... get your paws off my kid

I'm a writer.

Rejection and I are like good friends who've hung out on several occasions.

There are so many benefits to rejection. I know it. I've experienced it. I've benefited from it.

But right now, I really want to tell rejection to suck it and hands off my kid.  

My L. He loves sports. Football, soccer and very much so basketball. He was so excited to try out for the junior high basketball team. The first time he actually had to "try out" for anything! He would come straight home from school, get ready, talk my ear off about the orange ball and then an HOUR and TEN minutes later we'd head to try outs. He'd come home red in the face, sweaty, legs killing and smiling. It was a good pain. It was a good sweat.

And then... (I'm guessing you've all guessed) yesterday he was cut. 

Cut.

Cutting causes bleeding and pain and tears... can't they call it--> Maybe Next Time? 

Yeah... cut makes a lot more sense. 

We sat in the middle of the road, my car crooked in a bad u-turn and just hugged. Driving home I tried to say all the right things-- "I'm so proud of you!", "You did so great!", "There's always next year.", "I'm sorry.". 

And my boy. He was visibly very sad, but all he said was, "I'm so happy for "T, J, B..." Yeah, all his friends made it. 

And I wanted to turn around and curse that school-- "Don't you realize you've cut the nicest kid on the planet??" I'm guessing they don't care about or evaluate "nice" though. 

I wanted to curse the fact that I had zero athletic skills to pass onto him.

I kind of wanted to curse team sports all together--which isn't a great plan, since it's a team sport that pays my college coach husband and my house-bill.

Ugh.

We got home and while his brothers offered him condolences, I locked myself in my room and cried, cried like a baby.

Crud. This was so much harder than if they'd just cut me. 

I have suffered multiple rejections--they did not feel like this. 

Rejection has it's blessings, it really does bring benefits. I know that! It's apart of life--everyone's life! I know that too. So... I'm trying to see those for L. Man, it's hard to see when it's your baby.

But I'm trying to see the good. He's doing a much better job at it than I am.

The Blessings of Rejection

(to name a few...)

1. It's a chance to grow. Constant approval does not stretch us, teach, help us. 

2. It's an opportunity to explore new things. We aren't all good at the same things. Thank goodness!! Rejections helps us to discover and try something new.

3. Patience. Yes. It gives us more of that.

4. It can motivate us to work harder, try again, do better.

and 

5. It makes us stronger. A person who is handed everything they want is a weak person. 

I believe all these things. I do. Rejection brings all kinds of blessings. I do want all of these blessings for my kids. Still, if I'm honest--I don't want them all the time. Success is nice too.

In the mean time, we're going to be patient and exploring and hopefully becoming better people. 

Sending your child into the pit of despair... we also like to call Kindergarten

First day.
I survived.
She survived.
There were tears, I'm not gonna lie, on both our ends.

It's scary, sending your baby to school where someone other than yourself will be loving and caring for them. S-C-A-R-Y.

But it really isn't the "pit of despair"... no, I'm just a Princess Bride fan. Really her teacher seems amazing and her SLP IS amazing and there. And when Little Miss had a hard time she was right there to give her a hug--for which I am thankful beyond words.

Still, it's hard and it feels like sending them off to battle or something else irrational and insane. And you wonder if everything you've been teaching them for the last five years of their little life is about to fly out the window.

And for me--I should know better. Three brothers went ahead of her. They all survived. Sure they learned a few things I'm not so in love with, but they're still them, we're still us. They still have what I've taught them.

The other day Little Miss and I were at the park. We were swinging and a little boy ran up to the swings and sat by her. He was talking--to himself really, but he kept using the Lord's name in vain.

No judgements people--we just don't do that. And we've taught our kids not to. Kindergarten was coming and it gave me a small panic attack--she's going to hear this and worse at school and everything I've taught her is going to vanish!!!--{because, yeah, sometimes I'm a drama momma like that}.
BUT
Then, my girl--who no doubtedly heard the little guy say it again and again started to sing: "God is bigger than the boogie man." It's a Veggie Tales song. She heard him, but she brought the word "God" back into the context that she knows, that she's been taught in my home. And I thought... okay we can do this. Maybe the pit of despair won't be so terrible.

And of course it isn't.
It's wonderful.
It's just new.
And different.
And so very much for her, but honestly just as much for me. My life, as I've known it for the last 16 and 3/4 years is changing... dramatically. And selfishly I really like my life.
Home.
Write.
Play.
PB&J's with my littles.
Repeat

Change isn't evil. It is what it is. I'll still need my box of tissues tomorrow, but that's okay. I really do want them to grow up and do all the amazing things I know they can do. So, change is inevitable!

Cheers to change. And happy first day of school my friends!

I'm there.

I'm there, people. Well, I'm one month and 15 days away from being there.
And I'm one of those--freaking out, tearing up, stressing out...
Ugh.
I am almost in the "all the kids are in school" place. And it isn't a terrible place. Many people can't wait for that place--and that's fine, that's them. But I'm not excited for this place.
In all honestly I'm dreading this place.
And it isn't because I won't know what to do with my time. I have plenty to do with  my time... who doesn't? It's just, well...

I was writing in my journal tonight. It's a pretty leather bound, swirly designs at the binding, little book. I love it. I've had it for years and years and started using it 5 years ago. I flipped to one of the  middle pages and found a page my girl had colored all over as a toddler. I remember when she did it, I took the book away and frowned at the marks all over my pretty book. I saw a blemish. Today, with  my baby not even two months away from public school it made me smile. It made me so happy. A little bit of baby girl love in the middle of my favorite book. Perfect.

So, while I'm dreading this new place in my life, I'm realizing it's only because of how good life is. And the next stage though different will be just as good--at least that's what I'm going to keep telling myself. I'm sure I'm right. I really am. My spirit just needs to catch up with my brain. And until then I will cry. And when my kids all go off to school in August I will let myself miss them. I will let myself grieve for the noise and the games and the story times and the little helpers at my side wherever I go. Because it was wonderful. It was amazing. And it was over in a blink. And probably should be mourned, at least for a minute.

Things were clean, quiet and pleasant. And then the children came home.

If I'd wanted immaculate cleanliness all the time, I shouldn't have had children.

If I'd wanted a constant quiet house, I shouldn't have had children.

If I wanted zero arguing, no loud laughter and nil rowdiness, I shouldn't have had children.

As it is, I had 4.
My house is never immaculate.
My house is only quiet at night.
My house is happy, sad, angry, and loveable--not usually just your run of the mil pleasant.

But I love my children.
I really really love my children.

On the rare occasion that things are immaculate, quiet and pleasant, I enjoy it. Sometimes, I even relish in it. And then, I miss the children.

I found this quote and I liked it...

I suppose it could mean some adults are childish. But I thought how kids grow up so fast these days, so many children are trying to be adults way too soon. --So, I liked this quote. And I hope and pray that my kids take their time growing up. I hope my house stays messy and noisy for an awfully long time.

And then you hold on tighter

Four weeks ago life was normal.
Not perfect. But normal.
Laundry. Dinner. School and chores.

Three weeks ago something changed.
Three weeks ago I got a text from my sister in law panicked over her baby daughter. Something was wrong with Darbee's eye. The doctor was sending her to an eye doctor and dropped the words: possible tumor.

And with the thought--the impossible idea, we all held on to our little ones a little bit tighter.

No. It couldn't be. Happy, healthy, beautiful little Darbee bug couldn't be sick.

Calls were made. Strings were pulled. And the same week Darbee and her mommy went to Primary Children's.
This time the terrible words were a confirmation. Tumor. Cancer.
Truth.

And again we held on--physically, mentally, spiritually... from miles and miles away, we held to one another a little tighter.

We waited for surgery, for news... Surgery came. News came. Our girl's sight had already been taken by the alien intruder. The eye would have to go.

But more news. The cancer hadn't spread.
And though the news was good--again we held on--to each other, to prayer, to peace, to hope.

I haven't seen my baby niece yet. But I hold on to the image of her beautiful smiling face, to the sound of her laughter over the phone, to the prayers I say at night and constantly in my heart.

And I know she'll be okay. She'll make her mark on this world. She has something to do. More than she's already done.

For more on this story or to show support, go here

Apraxia--this isn't how I thought you'd make me feel

What did I think I'd feel when they told me my daughter was apraxic? 

I knew it was coming...

So, why does life feel like it just changed?

Childhood Apraxia of Speech:

Childhood apraxia of speech (CAS) is a motor speech disorder. Children with CAS have problems saying sounds, syllables, and words. This is not because of muscle weakness or paralysis. The brain has problems planning to move the body parts (e.g., lips, jaw, tongue) needed for speech. The child knows what he or she wants to say, but his/her brain has difficulty coordinating the muscle movements necessary to say those words.

Yep, that's what it is.

I was anxious to get Little Miss's test results. I was ready to know the facts, figure out what we're doing and get doing it!

Except now, that seems to be easier said than done.

Baby girl is 4 years old. 

She's in the 2nd percentile for speech for kids her age. Which means 98 kids her age out of 100 can say things she cannot.

So, they referred to her as severely apraxic.

Maybe I thought once we knew, there would be some fabulous switch to flip and we'd be on our way.

But there's no switch.

There's therapy. 

Lots and lots and lots of therapy.

"Drilling it into her"...

Drilling anything into a 4 year old seems cruel to me. And yet, it's what we need to do.

Her therapist and I talked about a dozen things--things like how I can help at home (thank you!!), things like how she may need a signing interpreter when she starts school, things like- how will we know if she's learning to read?, things like how she is so bright and so smart and this is going to make learning and evaluating what she's learned difficult.

Things that make my stomach hurt and my eyes constantly leak.

I'm trying to remind myself that just a couple of months ago I wrote a post about #1's back brace and how worried I was and how scared I was. And 4 short weeks later I wrote a post about the blessings we'd gained from it.

I'm hoping that's how this goes.

That sooner than later--I'll be writing about the blessings of apraxia.

And maybe I'm not feeling the blessings of apraxia yet, but I do know the blessings of having my girl. I know how special she is. How good and beautiful her heart is. How she is destined for so much.

And I wouldn't trade her for all the words in the world.

For Realzies

I love that little Sheriff of mine.

He got to bring a book to school today and he begged me to let him take my ARC copy of LIKE HOME.

I didn't mind, but I told that 9 year old boy he probably wouldn't want to read it. It might not interest him.

haha

He didn't care. He was so excited. 

Then as I dropped him off I heard him tell his friend, "This is my mom's book and it comes out for reals May 15." 

:)

It made my heart smile.

I sure love him. And it makes me so happy that he's proud of his momma.

And he's right. 

It does. 

It comes out for "reals" May 15!

Blessings of the Brace

Not that long ago, in fact exactly one month ago today, I wrote a post about my son, #1 and his back. 

Here it is if you want to read it. :)

I was a little more than stressed/worried/sick about his situation and the huge brace he has to wear.

And so many of you gave your love and support and prayers.

Thank you.

That's why I wanted to share the blessings that have come from the darn thing.

The obvious blessing:

It's working.

Then                   Now

He won't ever have a straight back, but this treatment is helping. In the short amount of time he's had the brace he has been diligent in getting 17-18 hours in--even when he really didn't want to. And he's gone from his spine being 34 degrees off to 24 degrees off.

Such a blessing! 

We go back in 6 months and I am already ready for good news. :)

 But that hasn't been the only blessing.

We've had multiple prayers in our behalf. We've really felt the love of those around us and those far away.

Our hearts have also softened. 

As parents I think it's easy to let our voices raise or get impatient or stressed from the day to day challenges. 

And somehow, with this brace we've softened our voices, we've given more patience, we've let go of day to day disturbances--they haven't felt as important or intrusive.

Because nothing is more important that our child and his health--body and spirit.

My faith in my son's strength and abilities and endurance has been strengthened.  

As well as my faith in God's mercy. 

But it's only been 4 weeks.

I'm sure I have a whole lot more to learn.

It's such a bummer when you learn the world doesn't revolve around you--4 ways to make sure your kids know it!

My youngest little man, our Sheriff, has had a rough realization this week. It's awful... and it's crappy... and it's so unfair

But

The world does not revolve around him.

Oh, disaster.

Okay, I don't mean to mock him--at all, actually. 

It really has been a harder week at my house. 

And at one point I said to my hubby--If he is like this at 9, I'm not sure I want to see him at 15!!!!!!

And then I sort of wanted to cry--but I didn't. 

{I know what you're thinking--whoa, she cries A LOT.}

Well, I didn't this time, I just wanted to.

So, being in a very peeved state I got online to trusty ol' google and looked up: how to help your kid realize the world doesn't revolve around him.

I found a couple articles--neither of which I really cared for.

So, I am writing my own. 

I am not a terrible mother. 

I love my children.

I have a great desire for them to turn out wonderful contributing community members.

And I pray--O, I pray a lot.

Then, I just thought it out. And here's what I've come up with. This is how I am going to teach the Sheriff, as well as the other 3 lovelies that they are wonderful--really really wonderful, BUT not the only people on the planet.

#1 We are going to serve. 

Serve. 

Serve.

Serve.

When you serve someone else, you don't have time to think about yourself--and even if you do, you hopefully soon lose yourself in good works.

#2 {I'm already pretty good at this one :)}

I am going to say "No" A LOT! 

Start young--err or NOW!

And say "No."

They don't need everything. 

They don't know it, but they don't even want everything.

They will be better, stronger, happier people when we, their parents don't give them everything!

#3 This one can be a toughy. 

You may think I either have it, or I don't! How can I help it?

But you can.

*Have a strong male influence in their life.*

For me, I am so blessed, it's their dad. 

He's here. Everyday.

Yesterday when the Sheriff was having a the-whole-world-should-do-what-I-say-moment, my husband set him straight. HE told him to speak nicely to his mother.

I had back-up. 

You need back-up.

Okay, so you're a single mom {or dad}.

Find it somewhere else. 

Grandpa. Uncle. Friend.

Get yourself some back-up. 

Someone you respect.

Someone your child respects and loves and is loved by in return.

#4 In this house--we help.

Doing everything for those little people we love so much tends to make them feel entitled. Feeling entitled is kind of another word for--the world revolves around me!

So, make them help out.

So, that's it.

I am hoping, and like I said praying my eyeballs out that it will help. I love my children. I want them to be the best people they can be--the people I know they were meant to be. Which takes some effort on my part. 

But they're worth it. 

And sometimes we just cry

I wrote a blog post 6 months ago called:

WHEN YOUR CHILD DOESN'T SPEAK

Well, it's been six months.

And we've made very little strides. 

But we have made strides.

My Little Miss is now 3 1/2 years old. 

She has a few more signs. 

She seems to attempt more vocal speech--though it's not very often we understand. 

When we do though, it's jumping for joy time.

What we're doing:

*Little Miss is in school twice a week where she meets with a speech therapist once a week.

*We're learning more signs.

*When others speak to her, we wait and give her a chance to answer, before we answer for her.

*We play a lot--with little people, with barbies, with baby dolls--talking up a storm as we do so. I can't understand what she says, but she jabbers right along with me.

*We reiterate words, trying to help her to hear and try out the sounds.

*And sometimes we just cry.

It's hard. 

As a mother, I just want her to be happy and healthy.

And she is.

So, why is it so hard?

And the honest answer is: Yes, mostly I want happy and healthy. But I want less frustration too.

I want to hear her funny little thoughts and not always guess at what she wants or thinks.

I want to teach her and have her respond so that I know she understands--or doesn't.

I want to stop saying: Oh, she doesn't really speak yet.

But that's a lot of I's, which let's face it, is pretty selfish.

This morning she threw one of her frustrated tantrums because daddy wasn't playing how she wanted. But she couldn't explain how she wanted.

How frustrating for her, that these big people who are supposed to know what they're doing can't get it right all the time.

I don't always know what to do when one of those frustrated fits occurs. And then I get frustrated and impatient.

What I need to do--since I can't always be the perfect mother, is remind myself to be gentle, to be forgiving--and hope that she'll be forgiving of me and my short comings. 

And I know this, but maybe I need to remind myself in those hard moments that I am one blessed momma to have her, just the precious way she is.

Happenings at Bedtime

The routine of bedtime.

I am a big believer  in it!

And we have a good one, we have since #1 was little, 15 not-so-long years ago. 

We read our scriptures as a family. We say prayers as a family. Then it's story-time in their bedrooms, hugs, kisses, when their little- a song, then lights out.

But we have other routines as well--ones that the hubby and I did not come up with or implement. 

It never fails, it's bedtime, we've read, we've prayed and suddenly:

L has some kind of aliment.

His head hurts.

His stomach hurts.

He's got something on his toe that just doesn't feel right... 

Little Miss gets her stories, her songs, her kisses and then just as I get to her door she signs milk.

The girl needs a drink. 

Always.

And occasionally a cracker.

O goodness.

Again, we've said prayers, we've read... our big boys hug and kiss goodnight-- they get to read in their room quietly for a bit. 

#1 along with everyone else hugs and kisses goodnight. 

He goes to his room and reads.

Then he comes up for the bathroom.

Another goodnight.

Then he goes back down. 

He reads some more.

Then he comes up to say: Okay, I'm going to bed now, goodnight.

3 goodnights--every night.

And the Sheriff. 

Well, he doesn't really have a "thing". 

Once he's in bed, he is {usually} there to stay.

And he doesn't complain about going.

In fact he's the one {being the Sheriff}and saying come on people, let's get those prayers said so I can get to bed. 

It's just bedtime.

And I love it.

It's family time.

And it's mom and dad have a few minutes to themselves time.

We need that.

My kids need us to have that.

When your child doesn't speak

You hear a lot of this:

*One day she'll just bust out full sentences.

*She doesn't need to talk, everyone else talks for her.

*One day you'll wish she'd stop talking!

*She's smart, she can get what she wants without talking.

Now let me preface this with-- none of this offends me. Kind people, just trying to make us feel better that our 3 year old has the vocabulary of a 12-18 month old.

But most of the time I feel like those excuses are sort of... well,

 crap.

I am writing this post with a heavy heart, as I sit here not exactly knowing what to do for my little daughter who is currently throwing one of her mother-load tantrums--

all because I have no idea what she wants.

It's a regular occurrence.

The girl is 3. They have tantrums. It get it. It's normal.

But we have regular ol' tantrums.

And then we have--> 

I-am-seriously-ticked-that-your-lame-brain-can't-figure-out-what-I'm-saying   

tantrums.

They're different.

She cries.

I cry.

It's incredibly frustrating.
She's been in speech for over a year. She's had her hearing checked twice. We don't know what the problem is--and that's frustrating too.

Okay, so here is the happy part of my post.

So, Little Miss doesn't say much.

She is healthy

She is happy.

She gives quite possibly the best hugs on the planet... 

and then enjoys forcing other to hug and kiss. :)

She IS smart!

She is loving.

She loves to read.

She has the best dance moves... ever!

She is my favorite little lady in the world.

And she will talk one day.

For now we'll do our signs and our few little words. 

And we'll keep going and keep trying.

Because heaven knows there are worse problems than this!

And as whiny as this post has been, I am grateful for my own trials and blessings and I wouldn't trade them with anyone.

{And if you said one of the above quotes to me (or all of them--> {Dad}:)) please don't stress. You're probably right. It's just hard to remember that on rougher days. Thanks for loving us!}

What Children Remember

I was thinking about things kids remember today. 

It started with Memorial Day. See, I have my kiddos make a band for our flower pots every year. They pick a grandma or a grandpa and they write a letter, draw a picture... something for our loved one who has passed.

We make 6. One for my momma, my grandparents on both sides. The hubby's one set of grandparents and his one grandfather. And then my nephew. 

I love it. It involves them and we talk about our loved ones. 

L kept asking me questions about my grandparents--which was awesome. Sadly, I had little to tell him though. Grandpa B died when I was 2 months old and Grandpa B when I was 7. 

I don't remember much. So I opted for stories I'd heard my mom tell.

Still, it got me thinking--what will my children remember?

One thing that broke my heart when my mom died was that I knew from personal experience my children would not remember much about a woman they absolutely adored.

Thinking back on my own life I came to this conclusion:

Children remember things that were repetitious and dramatic events.

Take Grandma B for instance... here I am with here... it's not the prettiest picture...

She was a sweetheart--despite this lousy picture of the two of us, there aren't many. My favorite is one of us hugging, both in perm curlers, but I don't know what's happened to it. 

I don't remember much about Grandma B. I remember she hugged-- a lot (repetition). 

And I remember when she died. 

Like I said, I was 7. 

I remember my oldest sister telling us we needed to clean the house for mom so she had nothing to worry about. 

I did not want to clean. 

I was grouchy about it. 

I remember mom and dad getting home and everyone crying in the living room. Well, almost everyone. There are 4 of us kids. The two oldest, mom and dad were crowded in a group hug. I was in a doorway, unsure what to do. I could see most of my family hugging in the living room and then my sister next in age to me in the kitchen, washing dishes and crying.

Drama.

This is Grandma Bessie. 

Another attractive picture, eh?

I was older when she passed and I have several memories. 

This one doesn't showcase my best moment. 

I was turning 10 and I had to share my birthday with Grandma Bes. 

You can see on my face how thrilled I was about it.

I would sort of like to reach through the picture and spank myself.

I just thought as long as I was blogging lousy grandma + Jen pictures, I might as well add this one and tell you all what a bum I was.

Anyhoo--I sure hope my sweet children will have plenty of good repetitions to remember. And I hope I'm a loving support during those dramatic times.

Memories are priceless and irreplaceable.

They can't burn in a  fire or drown in a flood.

I hope and pray I can make some pretty fabulous ones for my littles.

THE talk

Yep, I'm talking about sex.

We did not talk about such things when I grew up. When I was a sophomore in High School Mom and I were watching Opera. The subject was about talking to your kids about sex. After the show Mom looked at me and said, "Jen, do we need to--" Ya, I quickly interrupted her with a horrified, "No!!"

I had quite possibly the sweetest mother on the planet. She was sweet and modest and a bit embarrassed and allowed the subject to be dropped. 

It isn't always a natural, easy feeling process to talk to your child about sex. 

But it's important.

I think it's become more important over the years too.

Sex is such a relaxed subject for people these days.

The thought of abstinence is absurd to most of the world.

Whereas when I grew up, I knew my mom's stand, even without THE talk.

So, knowing from personal experience that 16 is 

waaaaaaaaaaaaaay 

too late to start having THE talk and wanting to have open communication with my kids about these things I knew we needed to start early.

We started with #1 at age 11. I have friends who have started earlier and have had success too. 11 was when I felt comfortable and when I could persuade my husband to join us. :)

I needed help though. I needed direction. I looked at my sweet innocent son and thought how can I start this?? 

I wanted him to know it wasn't bad or dirty, but also the importance of right place, right time.

I found this book:

Click here to purchase Growing Up by Brad Wilcox

I seriously LOVE this book. 

It does not tred lightly. 

It spells it out for them.

And yet it does it in a really tactful and awesome way.

My husband and I took every other chapter. We'd go into his room at night and read AND discuss it with him. We wanted to allow him to ask questions. 

And believe me they will ask questions!

#1 is a bit more on the shyer side when it came to this subject. He didn't ask too much. Just a few and thankfully (for me) he didn't ask about mom and dad.

But L (#2) he's going to have dozens... I just know it. And the talk with L begins soon... (so this post is really my warm up!)

Talking about this with friends and family they've heard things from their children like:

"You're telling me you and dad have done that THREE times??"

(Yes, they had 3 kids at the time)

or

"How soon after I get married do I have to do this??"

Haha. 

I love sweet children! I am so thankful for their beauty and their innocence. And how wonderful is it we can talk to our kids about sex, teach them, love them, grow closer to them and set them on the right track right away!

Reading @ 14 + Trust = A semi-sane Momma

I have a 14 year old... I know, hard to believe since I feel like I, myself am 14 half the time. But I do. 

He's kind of awesome.

I was thinking about his mad smarts the other day. The kid is bright... and I'm not just biased. You can ask his teachers. :) 

He registered for high school last week and he is already signed up for some pretty intense classes. Things that I never drempt of taking.

He is also a major reader. Something I was not as his age. I should have been, but I preferred writing to reading. Now I love both. To be a good writer you have  to read.

Even though I am a lover of a good book (now), he will read 6 fat novels before I'm done with one! It's makes it hard sometimes... I can't keep up with him and he's reading things... well, that I am reading!

I just finished Divergent. Loved it by the way. --Though it was really violent. He finished it months ago. I wondered if I would have let him read it--had I read it first! I still don't know.

But here is what I do know. I am not going to be able to keep up with him. 

So, I've taught him good values, I've given him good standards, he knows what our expectations are. And now I have to trust him. It's hard. Really hard. But it's important. 

And it's what I have to do.

I don't want him to stop reading and I can't suddenly stop being a part time working mom and wife with obligations and responsibilities that extend past homework. 

So, I trust him.

And I ask him a lot of questions. 

He loves to tell me what he's reading about and I let him. Even when sometimes I think my brain is going into overload and may fall out of my head. Then, at least I sort of know what he's filling his mind with. 

And now, because I apparently like embarrassing  myself, here is a picture of me at 14. 

Gotta love my ginormous bangs and bush-man eyebrows.

Lovely.

It's not having what you want

It's wanting what you've got.

-Sheryl Crow

We've been finishing L's room. The in-laws came with tools in hand and we suddenly had walls where once was openness and wood.

They're kind of awesome. :)

 We've been painting. And it's super exciting, especially for L and The Sheriff who currently share a room. 

I went to get something form our little tool room and there at the back is this dresser that was mine when I was a baby. It was all white when I used it. 

When the hubby and I had #1 we were pretty young and still newlyweds, only having been married a year and a half. We were in college and didn't have a lot. We lived in a two room cement barrick. Livingroom/Kitchen and Bed/Bath. So #1 didn't have anything close to his own room. He had a corner--and we loved that little corner. We were pretty poor and so my parents offered us my old dresser. It would work perfect for our small space. When they brought it in, I remember so clearly how thrilled I felt. They had painted it--shinned it all up and it was really adorable. 

This is the only picture I have of the corner and the dresser.

(A few years later we painted over the blue and red to match L's nursery).

I sort of miss the blue and red of my parent's paint job.

I am probably too sentimental, but their effort meant a lot and it warmed my heart every time I saw it.

When I think about that little dresser I can't help but think about my mother. I think of that dresser and I can feel her arms around me, hugging me like no one else could.

I know, it's just a dresser.

But to me, it's a pretty fantastic memory.

And it's the notion that having more never made any person happier.

Want what you've got!--that is if you wanna be happy. :)

I sort of feel like a super star when...

I walk into Mrs. Zotti's 2nd grade class. :)
A small chorus of "Mrs. Atkinson!" fills my ears.
I know everyone isn't able to help in their kid's classes, everyone has different situations, but if you can, it's so fun!
Maybe it's because I went to college to be a teacher.
Maybe it's because I looove children's books.
Maybe because I love children.
I don't think I could quite pin-point the exact reason, but I adore helping in my kiddos classes!
And my very favorite is 2nd grade!
I have helped in a lot of classes, but somehow I got lucky enough that every time my boys have been in the 2nd grade they have pretty fabulous teacher's who allow me to come in once a week to read and sing with the kids. It's only 15 minutes, but the kids love it--almost as much as I do!

If all 2 year olds combined

they could take over the WORLD!

No, really, I think they could.

I'm pretty sure there's a reason motherhood makes you lose your brain/memory... it's so you can forget most of the "two" year.

Really, it is such a fun year.... but really, it's such a hard year....

We've been potty training this week.

One week.

That's it.

And the crazy thing is, Little Miss caught on so much quicker than her big brothers. So, I should be counting my lucky stars... right? That precious girl of mine has an iron will! She does what she wants, when she wants.

And often what she wants has nothing to do with the potty. Even though she gets it! She knows how to "hold" it, where to go... all that jazz. She just at time chooses not to do it.

People tell me I just need to be tough... consistent.

I have always been pretty good at being tough, consistent with a whole lot of love in-between. But I've never had to try to figure out the "will of steel"!

Here's the other thing I realize with 3 boys growing like weeds. Two, as hard as it is, is a blink of the eye. It's gone before you know it.

And the thing is, I don't want to loath or wish away her 2's. Or any of her ages. I want to enjoy the beautiful parts {because there are lots of them!} and endure the miserable ones {which any mother of a 2 year old knows, there are plenty of those as well}.

Here's what I'm thinking.

*We band together with other mothers!

They know!

They've been there... or they are going through it right with ya!

*Eat chocolate, to sustain you!

*And try to remember, it won't last forever.

The Food Tax and other ways I enjoy torturing my children

I love my children.

I really do.

I also love a good ol' chore chart and set of rules.

I am certain my children will be happier people because I've forced some responsibility upon them. :)



1st- The Food Tax:

When my children serve their own food, they must eat it all, or they are charged a food tax. I have chart and I mark a tally for every food tax they owe. 50 cents per tally.
(I don't apply this if I am the whose dished them up.)

2nd- Toilet Talk:

This little ditty isn't my own. I got it from a friend. Thanks again Sam. So, when my boys argue I give them a warning first, and the second time I give them a toilet brush. They get to scrub a toilet for their toilet type talk to each other.

3rd- Chore Chart:

I love the chore chart!

We have morning chores: Get ready, Make bed, Read Scriptures.

We have after school chores. These ones have to be done before any SCREEN time, aka- TV, Wii, DS, Computer. But it doesn't have to be done right away. They can have a snack, play, do homework, whatever they want, EXCEPT look at a screen, until their chore is done.

After school chores are things like: Unload/load dishwasher, take out garbage, clean room, sort dirty laundry, etc.

Then we have dinner chores: Set the table, help cook, feed the dog, dishes, etc.

The thing is there are 6 of us in this house. We all eat. We all dirty it up. I cannot be the only person cleaning and taking care of this or I might possibly lose my sanity.

Don't get me wrong. I love being a stay-at-home gal and I could come up with a million different things to do each and every day. But I am not exactly passionate about doing dishes.

I love taking care of my family--as long as I have a little help from them. And it really is good for them. 



Right on Time

None of my kids came when I would have planned.

Thank goodness there is someone smarter than me with a plan.

Thank goodness I'm not the one in charge.

All of my kid's came in His time.

They came when I needed them.

There's:

#1

L

The Sherriff

and

Little Miss

They are my favorite people... on the planet!

They are special.

They are beautiful.

They are mine.

They're mine because He gave them to me. Heavenly Father has blessed me with an abundance of things I don't deserve, but the greatest of these blessings are my children.

 Now, back to how/when they came.

 

#1

That boy came just a year and a half after the hubby and I were married. It wasn't exactly how we'd planned it. We'd only been married 7 months when we found out we were pregnant. I remember distinctly the two of us staring at those two pink lines, giving us the positive answer and then looking up and saying, "Now what?"

#1 was born in September. The very month that I should have started my Senior year of college. Graduating has always been very important to me, but when I held that baby boy I knew I wouldn't go back. I couldn't leave him to get a degree I knew I wouldn't be using right away. I could not miss a minute of his precious little life. He felt like a missing piece. One I didn't even know was lost.

 

L

Even after a horrendous first birth, the hubby and I were excited to make #1 a big brother. We planned, we saved, we tried... but nothing happened. Not for--what felt like forever. But in fact ended up being a little less than 2 years. I could not understand why we were having so much trouble, #1 came so easily!!

I questioned so many things:

Weren't we good parents?

Was I doing enough?

But God has a reason for everything.

And as difficult as I thought those couple years were, they taught me a lot. They gave me great empathy for couples with fertility problems. I quickly learned that my less-than-two years was nothing compared to what some couples go through.

And now I am so very grateful for the lesson, as well as the beautiful boy--he was well worth the wait.

 

The Sheriff

Learning that I wasn't oh-so-fertile as we once thought and the fact that I was nursing, made us... well, not-so-super careful.

And so, just 12 months after the birth of L, I found out I was pregnant with the sheriff. Honestly, it scared the pants off of me. I was just getting the hang of 2 littles, throwing a third one into the mix when I still very much felt like I had a "baby" was frightening.

But again, the boy came when we needed him as well.

L seemed to be a born big brother and none of us could imagine our lives without the new boss of the house, our little Sheriff.

 

And finally

Little Miss

When I got pregnant with Little Miss the Sheriff was 5 years old--soon to be 6 years old.

We were done.

Family complete.

Well, if I'm being honest, I never did have that "complete" feeling until Little Miss was born. I always felt like somebody else might be up there waiting for us to get our act together.

But then the Sheriff turned 5 and everyone was pretty self-sufficient. So, I thought for about a minute, maybe we are done.

And then my mom got sick.

Really sick.

It came so fast and it took her down hard.

We were trying so hard to figure out a way to get her better that we hardly took time to consider losing her.

And then she was gone.

And my heart was broken.

I pretended to smile and laugh for my kids, but I wasn't very good at it. I tried to make dinner and spend time with friends. I tried to listen as other people talked about their lives and problems.

But I really didn't care.

9 months after mom died I knew I had to change. I had to do something. I was falling to pieces and my family was suffering because of it. That's when I turned my pain over to God. I have always been a religious/spiritual person. And I've always been grateful for a loving Heavenly Father's comfort and mercy. But this was too much for me. Every night I would beg for him to take it away. Some nights I couldn't speak and I would just lay there on my knees. So, when I got to this point I stopped asking Him to take it all away and instead I passed it over to Him. I still felt pain and anguish and loss, but I'd given Him my burden, He carried it for me. And I could feel the difference in every way.

That's when I got pregnant with Little Miss.

She wasn't discussed or planned.

But if I am being honest I absolutely knew she was coming.

I felt it.

And I knew she was a girl.

Some people think that's because after 3 sons I was dying to have a daughter. But really I adore my boys, I would have been happy to have another. I just knew this little one, this blessing, this gift was bringing part of my momma back to me.

I can just see the two of them sitting together in the heavens. My mom loving on her like she did all of her grandbabies. I can see her telling Little Miss to be a good girl and bring a smile back to her mom, me.

And she did.