Good Friday. What a horribly, wonderful day. I spend every Good Friday thinking about Jesus and my walk with him. Am I doing it right? Am I on the right path? Am I loving enough? Forgiving enough? Working hard enough not to break His commandments? I wonder about every little decision I make. Is this what God wants or am I doing what I want? It's harder to think about today when I'm imagining Him hanging on a cross after being beaten and knocked down and tortured. All for me. He did this all for me. And you. For all of us. Out of love. Can you imagine a love like that?
I've been spending a lot of time praying today. I've thanked God for His sacrifice. I've prayed that my life is following His plan. I was in the middle of taking a break from all of that thinking and praying to check my email when a little hand tapped me on the arm.
I looked down and saw a grinning Logan reaching his hand toward mine. I took his hand, stood up, and let him lead me to whatever it was that he wanted me to see. Usually, he takes me straight to the playroom and demands that I build something, play with something, watch him play with something, read a book, the list goes on.
This time, we walked right past the playroom. I followed his slow, careful steps into my bedroom. He looked at me for reassurance, I smiled, and we continued into the bathroom. He led me right in front of the full length mirror, sat down, pulled me down, and looked at me in the mirror. He pointed at both of us, smiled his irresistible dimple-filled smile, stood up, and we continued out of the bathroom. We hadn't spoken a single word to each other through this process.
He took me to the living room, pointed to the couch and then to me. I sat down and he crawled right up in my lap and snuggled into me. He let out a sigh, and looked up at me with one more smile.
I'm still not sure there was a point to the whole thing. He just wanted me to smile and follow him and offer my presence and love.
That's when it hit me. Maybe that IS the point. The whole point to all of this. Maybe if I calm down and just take God's hand, that's really all that He wants. Maybe I'm spending way too much time demanding things of myself, wondering about the how, the why, the what next of things, instead of just grabbing His hand walking through life holding on tight to that love and reassurance.
So, for today, I'm going to stop worrying and wondering. I'm going to grab the hand of Jesus and walk through my day smiling with eyes full of love.
Friday, April 3, 2015
Thursday, March 5, 2015
On Grace
We were having one of those mornings. One of those nothing at all is going right or happening easily mornings. And you know who started it? Me. I let the morning get the best of me from the moment I grumpily stepped out of bed.
I woke up with a frown on my face. I stubbed my toe as I stumbled through the dark house on the way to get that first cup of life-giving coffee.
I snapped at my husband for trying to help me when I didn't want help.
I rolled my eyes and felt the tension build when both girls walked into my room at 5:45 in the morning. I told them they had to go sit down and keep themselves entertained for the next 45 minutes because they were interrupting my quiet morning routine. I didn't have the patience to deal with their never-ending needs that early this morning.
I broke up a fight about a doll that one daughter claimed as her own when it really belongs to the other by taking the doll and throwing it on top of the fridge so no one could have it. I told the same daughter (who is only 4...still a baby really) to GET. OUT. when she continued to cry about the damn doll. That's a lie, guys. I didn't "tell" her. I yelled in my best mad mom voice.
Because I WAS mad and I felt mean and ugly inside and horrible and I didn't get a grip on it. I let it take over this morning. I woke up feeling overwhelmed by kids. I woke up feeling overwhelmed by a house that needs cleaned...desperately. I woke up feeling selfish and unwilling to take care of anyone's feelings except my own.
When it was time to get coats and backpacks on, I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to drop the girls off at school, put Logan in front of the TV, and sit in the quiet and let myself wallow in my bad place. I was getting ready to less than calmly tell Camden for the fourth time in 3 minutes to get her coat on when it happened.
Hannah came up and hugged my waist and with the complete honesty and love that only a child can give said, "You're the best Mom EVER." Camden, as she danced around still not doing a single thing I asked of her, but being completely and unapologetically and perfectly Camden, piped up, "You are Mom! Even when you're mad!" Logan, who had just been screaming about not wanting his coat on, started laughing and jumping up and down yelling "Yeah! Yeah! Mommy!"
My heart cracked and shifted. The ugly was gone and I hit my knees and hugged them all tight and let their grace wash over us all. Even when I was at my worst, they found a way to only see my best. They gave me grace when I needed it most, without really even knowing they were doing it.
I came home from dropping the girls off and sat down for a minute to think about the morning. I released a lot of stress with a good cry and realized what I forgot to do this morning. I forgot to take a minute to breathe and pray and be calm and to love these kids, this house, this life, myself just as they all were at that moment. Because even when it's dirty, the house is wonderful. Because even when they are fighting and crying and screaming, these children are more precious than anything in this world. Because even at my worst, I am a good person with a great life.
Offer grace, you guys. You never know when you may be giving it to someone who needs it the most.
I woke up with a frown on my face. I stubbed my toe as I stumbled through the dark house on the way to get that first cup of life-giving coffee.
I snapped at my husband for trying to help me when I didn't want help.
I rolled my eyes and felt the tension build when both girls walked into my room at 5:45 in the morning. I told them they had to go sit down and keep themselves entertained for the next 45 minutes because they were interrupting my quiet morning routine. I didn't have the patience to deal with their never-ending needs that early this morning.
I broke up a fight about a doll that one daughter claimed as her own when it really belongs to the other by taking the doll and throwing it on top of the fridge so no one could have it. I told the same daughter (who is only 4...still a baby really) to GET. OUT. when she continued to cry about the damn doll. That's a lie, guys. I didn't "tell" her. I yelled in my best mad mom voice.
Because I WAS mad and I felt mean and ugly inside and horrible and I didn't get a grip on it. I let it take over this morning. I woke up feeling overwhelmed by kids. I woke up feeling overwhelmed by a house that needs cleaned...desperately. I woke up feeling selfish and unwilling to take care of anyone's feelings except my own.
When it was time to get coats and backpacks on, I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to drop the girls off at school, put Logan in front of the TV, and sit in the quiet and let myself wallow in my bad place. I was getting ready to less than calmly tell Camden for the fourth time in 3 minutes to get her coat on when it happened.
Hannah came up and hugged my waist and with the complete honesty and love that only a child can give said, "You're the best Mom EVER." Camden, as she danced around still not doing a single thing I asked of her, but being completely and unapologetically and perfectly Camden, piped up, "You are Mom! Even when you're mad!" Logan, who had just been screaming about not wanting his coat on, started laughing and jumping up and down yelling "Yeah! Yeah! Mommy!"
My heart cracked and shifted. The ugly was gone and I hit my knees and hugged them all tight and let their grace wash over us all. Even when I was at my worst, they found a way to only see my best. They gave me grace when I needed it most, without really even knowing they were doing it.
I came home from dropping the girls off and sat down for a minute to think about the morning. I released a lot of stress with a good cry and realized what I forgot to do this morning. I forgot to take a minute to breathe and pray and be calm and to love these kids, this house, this life, myself just as they all were at that moment. Because even when it's dirty, the house is wonderful. Because even when they are fighting and crying and screaming, these children are more precious than anything in this world. Because even at my worst, I am a good person with a great life.
Offer grace, you guys. You never know when you may be giving it to someone who needs it the most.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
On That Creepy Little Elf on the Shelf
It's that time of year again. Time to get out that weird little elf that creepily watches over everything my kids do in a day so that she can head back to the North Pole and report everything to Santa while he makes his naughty and nice list. She stares at them from various places in the house...from the mantle, from above their beds, from the light fixture in the living room that gives her a good view of everything going on in the house. I tell my kids that she also knows every single thing they are doing when they are away from home at school because she's MAGIC. It doesn't matter if she's there physically or not. She's our elf and knows all that we do. Magic, guys, it gets your kids in line and terrifies them into behaving. We make sure our kids are equal parts in love with the elf and also petrified of what she's going to tell Santa about them. Because that's what Christmas is about...scaring your kids straight so they gets lots of presents.
Just kidding, you guys. I am blown away by how this silly little elf has become such a polarizing topic in our world. I've seen so many opinions on this that I just have to shake my head and turn off my computer. And then turn it back on and give my two cents.
Let's get a few things straight.
Number 1. My children know what Christmas is all about. It's not about being greedy little stinkers and only behaving for one month out of the year to get lots and lots of toys. It's about the birth of the man that came to this world to save all of our souls. It's about a man who loves us more than anything, even if we completely ignore Him. CHRISTmas, guys. The birth of Jesus. The totally encompassing, unfathomable, unending love that is Christ the King. That's just how we roll in this house.
Number 2. We also believe in Santa. Why not give your kids a little taste of magic? What's wrong with letting them know that Santa comes and gives us gifts in celebration of Jesus? I've heard over the years that there are people out there who are super bitter about being "lied" to about Santa all of those years. I feel that like stems from a deeper place that I don't want to get into. When I was a kid, Santa was a happy, joyful, magical thing to think about once a year. When I found out he wasn't "real", I didn't cry into my pillow for weeks and disown my parents. I loved Santa as a kid, and even now knowing he isn't a physical person I can touch, I still love him. I still believe in Santa, ya'll. Not as a fat, jolly man with an impressive white beard, but as a feeling, a peace and joy that you don't get any other time of year. An abundance of love and giving. I plan on telling my kids that the magic of Santa is what you make it. Even if you are the one wrapping the gifts and sticking them in stockings, the look on the faces of those precious little ones Christmas morning....THAT IS SANTA!!!! What's so wrong with that?
Number 3. Our kids LOVE our elf. If I would have tried this little experiment and been met with terrified cries and horrible dreams of a creepy elf watching them at all times, that elf would have been out of here.
But.
Our kids LOVE Mrs. Jingles! She moves to a silly new place every day and brings them fun little treats during the few weeks a year that she is in our house.
For me, it's just one more tradition that my kids will cherish far into adulthood. A little piece of the home, the love, the care that I am giving them right now.
Do I wish the elf was a little less psycho looking? Sure! Who wouldn't? Do I think it's a terrible, evil trick to pull on your kids? Absolutely not! Do I think all of you should adopt this tradition? NOPE! It's a family by family thing.
I find it sad that I even felt the need to write this and "defend" my position. There are so many things in this world that people get uptight about that make absolutely no sense to me. Not everything is for everyone. Why can't we just let those who want to invite that weird little elf into their house every year be? Why can't we nod our heads and say, "Yup, I get why you aren't doing the elf in your house" to those who aren't doing it?
I'll say this once....IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL!!!! Get the heck over it.
For us, in our house, Mrs. Jingles, our creepy little elf, is a win. She brings donuts and a new ornament every year. She hangs upside down from lights. She makes my kids jump out of bed in the morning. She makes those sweet little babies giggle when they find her. They tell her goodnight at bedtime. Please tell me, those who disagree with the idea of the elf, where is the harm in that? If you give me a good enough argument, it will be adios Mrs. Jingles. But for now, our Elf on the Shelf is a HUGE win.
Just kidding, you guys. I am blown away by how this silly little elf has become such a polarizing topic in our world. I've seen so many opinions on this that I just have to shake my head and turn off my computer. And then turn it back on and give my two cents.
Let's get a few things straight.
Number 1. My children know what Christmas is all about. It's not about being greedy little stinkers and only behaving for one month out of the year to get lots and lots of toys. It's about the birth of the man that came to this world to save all of our souls. It's about a man who loves us more than anything, even if we completely ignore Him. CHRISTmas, guys. The birth of Jesus. The totally encompassing, unfathomable, unending love that is Christ the King. That's just how we roll in this house.
Number 2. We also believe in Santa. Why not give your kids a little taste of magic? What's wrong with letting them know that Santa comes and gives us gifts in celebration of Jesus? I've heard over the years that there are people out there who are super bitter about being "lied" to about Santa all of those years. I feel that like stems from a deeper place that I don't want to get into. When I was a kid, Santa was a happy, joyful, magical thing to think about once a year. When I found out he wasn't "real", I didn't cry into my pillow for weeks and disown my parents. I loved Santa as a kid, and even now knowing he isn't a physical person I can touch, I still love him. I still believe in Santa, ya'll. Not as a fat, jolly man with an impressive white beard, but as a feeling, a peace and joy that you don't get any other time of year. An abundance of love and giving. I plan on telling my kids that the magic of Santa is what you make it. Even if you are the one wrapping the gifts and sticking them in stockings, the look on the faces of those precious little ones Christmas morning....THAT IS SANTA!!!! What's so wrong with that?
Number 3. Our kids LOVE our elf. If I would have tried this little experiment and been met with terrified cries and horrible dreams of a creepy elf watching them at all times, that elf would have been out of here.
But.
Our kids LOVE Mrs. Jingles! She moves to a silly new place every day and brings them fun little treats during the few weeks a year that she is in our house.
OH, NO!!! She brought donuts, you guys!
For me, it's just one more tradition that my kids will cherish far into adulthood. A little piece of the home, the love, the care that I am giving them right now.
Happy faces, guys, happy adorable faces.
Do I wish the elf was a little less psycho looking? Sure! Who wouldn't? Do I think it's a terrible, evil trick to pull on your kids? Absolutely not! Do I think all of you should adopt this tradition? NOPE! It's a family by family thing.
I find it sad that I even felt the need to write this and "defend" my position. There are so many things in this world that people get uptight about that make absolutely no sense to me. Not everything is for everyone. Why can't we just let those who want to invite that weird little elf into their house every year be? Why can't we nod our heads and say, "Yup, I get why you aren't doing the elf in your house" to those who aren't doing it?
I'll say this once....IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL!!!! Get the heck over it.
For us, in our house, Mrs. Jingles, our creepy little elf, is a win. She brings donuts and a new ornament every year. She hangs upside down from lights. She makes my kids jump out of bed in the morning. She makes those sweet little babies giggle when they find her. They tell her goodnight at bedtime. Please tell me, those who disagree with the idea of the elf, where is the harm in that? If you give me a good enough argument, it will be adios Mrs. Jingles. But for now, our Elf on the Shelf is a HUGE win.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
On The Best Potato Soup EVER!
Baby, it's cold outside! We actually had snow flurries coming down this morning. The temperature almost hit 30 yesterday. BRRRRRRR!!! Obviously, that calls for soup. Lots and lots of delicious soup.
Quick confession. I do not love cooking. I don't hate it, either. It's just one of those things that I have to do so that this family can survive. Guess what, though?! I have recently learned that I LOVE to cook soup. I don't care if it takes an hour to get it done (usually I go for 30 minute or less recipes). I just really enjoy it.
Last week, I found and made the recipe I'm about to share. I googled Panera potato soup because let's be honest, their soup is the bomb. Yes, I said it....THE BOMB! I found one that looked pretty good and pretty easy. Added a little of my own flair to it (very little of my own flair. I'm not one to mess with recipes) and served it up. Everyone LOVED it. Except Hannah. It was a little spicy. Next time, I'll cut back on the red pepper, and I bet she downs it like the rest of us!
So here you go. You can thank me later! (I don't have pictures of this process. My bad).
POTATO SOUP
Ingredients:
4 cups chicken broth
4 cups peeled and cubed potatoes
1/2 cup of half-and-half (I might have used more. I didn't measure, just dumped).
1/4 cup minced onions
1/2 tsp seasoning salt
1/4 tsp white pepper
1/4 tsp ground red pepper (Cut back if you are sensitive to spicy foods like Hannah)
1 - 8 oz package cream cheese cut into chunks
Directions:
1. Combine broth, potatoes, onion and spices
2. Boil on medium heat until potatoes are tender. Mash a few to release their starch to thicken the soup.
3. Add half-and-half and reduce to low heat.
4. Add cream cheese, stir until cheese melts
5. If you want, top it with some yummy stuff like bacon pieces, green onions, shredded cheese. MMMMmmmm....bacon!
We ate this whole pot in one sitting. Next time, I will double it.
Stay tuned for more soup recipes because that's what I'm feeling these days.
Mommy win on making a soup that (almost) the whole family loves!
Quick confession. I do not love cooking. I don't hate it, either. It's just one of those things that I have to do so that this family can survive. Guess what, though?! I have recently learned that I LOVE to cook soup. I don't care if it takes an hour to get it done (usually I go for 30 minute or less recipes). I just really enjoy it.
Last week, I found and made the recipe I'm about to share. I googled Panera potato soup because let's be honest, their soup is the bomb. Yes, I said it....THE BOMB! I found one that looked pretty good and pretty easy. Added a little of my own flair to it (very little of my own flair. I'm not one to mess with recipes) and served it up. Everyone LOVED it. Except Hannah. It was a little spicy. Next time, I'll cut back on the red pepper, and I bet she downs it like the rest of us!
So here you go. You can thank me later! (I don't have pictures of this process. My bad).
POTATO SOUP
Ingredients:
4 cups chicken broth
4 cups peeled and cubed potatoes
1/2 cup of half-and-half (I might have used more. I didn't measure, just dumped).
1/4 cup minced onions
1/2 tsp seasoning salt
1/4 tsp white pepper
1/4 tsp ground red pepper (Cut back if you are sensitive to spicy foods like Hannah)
1 - 8 oz package cream cheese cut into chunks
Directions:
1. Combine broth, potatoes, onion and spices
2. Boil on medium heat until potatoes are tender. Mash a few to release their starch to thicken the soup.
3. Add half-and-half and reduce to low heat.
4. Add cream cheese, stir until cheese melts
5. If you want, top it with some yummy stuff like bacon pieces, green onions, shredded cheese. MMMMmmmm....bacon!
We ate this whole pot in one sitting. Next time, I will double it.
Stay tuned for more soup recipes because that's what I'm feeling these days.
Mommy win on making a soup that (almost) the whole family loves!
Monday, October 13, 2014
On Receiving My First Hate Letter
Last Wednesday went like most days go. School, crying, naps, Target, more crying, eating, playing, homework, more crying, etc. We did have a nice little highlight that hasn't happened in far too long. We had a skype date with our Rachel.
Quick catch up for those of you thinking, "who the heck is Rachel?" Rachel is my first-cousin. She graduated high school, didn't like her immediate option for college, so she moved from Ohio to Texas to live with us for a year and go to Midland Community College until she figured out what she wanted to do and where she wanted to be. It was a great year. She covered our house in hair (seriously, this girl sheds like no other) and ate all of our food. When she left, she took a little piece of all of our hearts with her. She's forever part of our immediate family.
Rachel is back in Ohio now. She found a college that she loves, friends she can't live without, and is working hard to reach her dreams. We are so proud. We miss her like crazy.
We don't talk to her nearly enough. Last week, we decided to fix that and set a Skype date. After school, when things settled down and homework was done, we called. The kids were SO excited. They were jumping up and down and dancing to the ring tone as we were calling through. The minute Rachel picked up, they all got stage fright and got super quiet.
Hannah was the first to decide she wanted to speak up. Right about that time, Logan decided he wanted to yell in Rachel's face and see what she was all about (he was a month old when she moved out, his memory was a little fuzzy). In true drama queen fashion, Hannah got upset that he stole the spotlight, threw herself on the ground and refused to look at anyone.
We left her like that and went on about our business. The other two Lynch kids charmed Rachel's socks off. Logan ran around, said all of his new words, and did all of his tricks. Camden caught her up on preschool life and drew pictures for her on the magna-doodle. When it was just about time to hang up, I saw Hannah at our dining room table making a drawing.
Thinking she was over it, I walked over to see if she was ready for her turn to Skype with Rachel. I got an evil look, looked down and saw a paper covered in x's. I asked what she was drawing and she meanly said, "X's. They are for you."
OOOOOOoooookay. I was clearly on her s*@t list. Without taking her eyes off of me, she wrote "MOM" and angrily drew a line through my name. I burst out laughing. It was hilarious. She was mad and so mean about it, but seeing that adorable little face be so horrible was more than I could take. I saw her eyes narrow and knew I was really going to have a devil on my hands if I didn't think of something fast.
"Hannah! I'm only laughing to keep myself from crying. Does that mean you don't want me to be your mom anymore?"
"Yes. I don't want any of you. I want a new family." By now, she had drawn all of our names with an angry line through them and a huge X over the whole bunch.
Obviously, I lost my mind and started laughing again. It was HILARIOUS!
"I'm going to live with Rachel!"
I told her that I was very sad and sorry that she was so upset that she didn't want to be part of our family anymore. I also told her that it wasn't an option to move away because we love her way too much to let her go. I gave her body, still rigid with anger, a huge hug, whispered that I love her, told her I understand getting so mad you want to leave, but that I hope she changes her mind because of how much she means to us.
Ten minutes later, I got this....
Hopefully, she always gets over her mad so quickly. And hopefully, I can learn to control my laugh impulse when my kids are working through a mad.
Quick catch up for those of you thinking, "who the heck is Rachel?" Rachel is my first-cousin. She graduated high school, didn't like her immediate option for college, so she moved from Ohio to Texas to live with us for a year and go to Midland Community College until she figured out what she wanted to do and where she wanted to be. It was a great year. She covered our house in hair (seriously, this girl sheds like no other) and ate all of our food. When she left, she took a little piece of all of our hearts with her. She's forever part of our immediate family.
Rachel is back in Ohio now. She found a college that she loves, friends she can't live without, and is working hard to reach her dreams. We are so proud. We miss her like crazy.
We don't talk to her nearly enough. Last week, we decided to fix that and set a Skype date. After school, when things settled down and homework was done, we called. The kids were SO excited. They were jumping up and down and dancing to the ring tone as we were calling through. The minute Rachel picked up, they all got stage fright and got super quiet.
Hannah was the first to decide she wanted to speak up. Right about that time, Logan decided he wanted to yell in Rachel's face and see what she was all about (he was a month old when she moved out, his memory was a little fuzzy). In true drama queen fashion, Hannah got upset that he stole the spotlight, threw herself on the ground and refused to look at anyone.
We left her like that and went on about our business. The other two Lynch kids charmed Rachel's socks off. Logan ran around, said all of his new words, and did all of his tricks. Camden caught her up on preschool life and drew pictures for her on the magna-doodle. When it was just about time to hang up, I saw Hannah at our dining room table making a drawing.
Thinking she was over it, I walked over to see if she was ready for her turn to Skype with Rachel. I got an evil look, looked down and saw a paper covered in x's. I asked what she was drawing and she meanly said, "X's. They are for you."
OOOOOOoooookay. I was clearly on her s*@t list. Without taking her eyes off of me, she wrote "MOM" and angrily drew a line through my name. I burst out laughing. It was hilarious. She was mad and so mean about it, but seeing that adorable little face be so horrible was more than I could take. I saw her eyes narrow and knew I was really going to have a devil on my hands if I didn't think of something fast.
"Hannah! I'm only laughing to keep myself from crying. Does that mean you don't want me to be your mom anymore?"
"Yes. I don't want any of you. I want a new family." By now, she had drawn all of our names with an angry line through them and a huge X over the whole bunch.
Obviously, I lost my mind and started laughing again. It was HILARIOUS!
"I'm going to live with Rachel!"
I told her that I was very sad and sorry that she was so upset that she didn't want to be part of our family anymore. I also told her that it wasn't an option to move away because we love her way too much to let her go. I gave her body, still rigid with anger, a huge hug, whispered that I love her, told her I understand getting so mad you want to leave, but that I hope she changes her mind because of how much she means to us.
Ten minutes later, I got this....
Front
Back
Hopefully, she always gets over her mad so quickly. And hopefully, I can learn to control my laugh impulse when my kids are working through a mad.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
On School Mornings...UGH!
School mornings sometimes make me want to just throw my hands up in the air and head to my closet with a huge cake (not piece...the whole darn cake) and a fork. I feel like after the cake was gone, I could walk out, head held high (with crumbs and icing all over my face), and take on the disaster that is sometimes our morning. Don't worry Gramma and Grampa! I'm sure they'll be perfect little angels for you on school mornings in a few weeks when Heath and I are out of town. Don't be scared.
They have been much better this school year so far than last. I can let them sleep for an extra 20 minutes this year because the fight doesn't last nearly as long. Well, until this morning. I'm officially nervous about how the rest of the year might go. Hopefully this morning was a fluke.
They both assured me at bedtime last night that they were ready for school and were going to hop right out of bed in the morning. HA! LIARS!
Camden is normally my morning person. If she isn't up by the time I head in to wake them up, she'll quickly sit up, smile at me and get on with the morning tasks. Hannah, on the other hand, is most decidedly NOT a morning person. I always know it's going to be touch and go with that one. This morning, I had two Hannahs on my hands.
I managed to get them both in an upright position and dressed. Camden had her eyes shut the whole time. Hannah refused to even lift an arm to help me out and kept toppling backwards onto her bed with some "I'm done with this bull crap" sighs and grunts. Me too, Hannah, me too.
Breathe, Mom, breathe! This will all be over in about 40 minutes.
I ushered them both, still blinking like newborns who aren't quite sure what to do with all of the light, to the bathroom. We got their hair fixed and their morning bathroom needs taken care of without too much issue.
Right about now, Logan starts yelling from his crib and kicking the wall with both feet to let me know he's awake. Awesome. Let me just get the girls' breakfast started first, little man, then it's your turn.
Out to the kitchen we go. Hannah (usually) is fully awake by now and makes a quick breakfast decision. Camden, on the other hand, chooses this moment to get indecisive, uncooperative, and to start whining that we don't have what she wants for breakfast. I'm starting to get impatient and more than a little irritated because of the very unhappy noises coming out of the baby boy room, and I just want her to make a decision so I can go get the baby situation taken care of. We all know what you are going to pick, Camden, so just pick it! That's what my head is screaming. My outer mother is very calmly giving her options, even though I could already have what I know she is going to pick ready and on the table. Give her time, Mom, she's still very little (I have to constantly talk myself off of freak out ledges in the morning). Almost every morning Hannah wants a bagel with butter and Camden wants a bagel with cream cheese. Hannah's breakfast is taken care of when Camden finally decides on her (surprise) cream cheese bagel. Done!
As soon as they are at the table eating, it's off to get little man. I catch him mid-scream. The minute he hears the door creak open, he stops, giggles, jumps on his mattress a few times, and raises his arms so I can get him out of the crib. The easy part is over, though, because now it's time to change that diaper and dress him. Changing his morning diaper should be an Olympic event. He laughs through me getting his sleeper off, but the minute that diaper comes off, he goes stiff as a board and starts crying like I have him chained to the wall and am beating him with a 2 by 4 full of rusty old nails. I thought the girls were the dramatic ones! Once the clean diaper is on, he spends his getting dressed time throwing every article of clothing he possibly can onto the floor. He thinks he's hilarious!
Mid-diaper change, it never fails that Camden will come in fussing that she changed her mind and doesn't want her cream cheese bagel afterall. Can she have chex mix? Goldfish? Cookies? Spaghetti for breakfast instead? Yes, Camden you can have all of those things. When you are an adult living on your own and I'm not there to force you to eat something a little more breakfast worthy. NO! Get back to the table and eat your bagel. That was your choice, now you need to eat it or go to school hungry. I'm elbows deep in changing a diaper and I. CANNOT. HELP. YOU. for at least another 5 minutes. Just go eat!!!! Please!!!
By the time teeth are brushed, shoes and coats are on, and we are packed up ready to go, I'm thankful that I'm giving them to someone else for the day. That morning 40 minutes is the longest 40 minutes of my day.
Want to know how I know I'm insane? I start missing those little stink pots the minute I pull out of the school parking lot. I have cried pulling away from the school more times this year than ever before because the minute I get in the car, do a little happy to be free dance, and breathe a sigh of relief, I start missing them with an ache that goes all the way to my toes. Yes, I still get Logan all day, but he misses them, too! He wanders the house looking for them, which makes me miss them even more.
They are growing up way too fast on me. Pretty soon, they won't need me there to drag them out of bed (well, OK, maybe that part will always be my job), but they won't need me to dress them, do their hair, get them breakfast, and try to love them through a morning they aren't quite ready to be awake for yet. They'll want to take the bus to school because having your Mom drop you off and pick you up isn't quite as cool as it should be. Pretty soon, they won't need me in quite the way they need me now. So, I'm going to do my best to enjoy these mornings and to hug them through the "tough" times that every morning brings. They are happy enough by the time we head out the door. I like to think that I'm part of what turns their morning around. My fingers are crossed that they will always need me to help get their mornings on track, but deep down I know that eventually they will be able to do that on their own.
They have been much better this school year so far than last. I can let them sleep for an extra 20 minutes this year because the fight doesn't last nearly as long. Well, until this morning. I'm officially nervous about how the rest of the year might go. Hopefully this morning was a fluke.
They both assured me at bedtime last night that they were ready for school and were going to hop right out of bed in the morning. HA! LIARS!
Camden is normally my morning person. If she isn't up by the time I head in to wake them up, she'll quickly sit up, smile at me and get on with the morning tasks. Hannah, on the other hand, is most decidedly NOT a morning person. I always know it's going to be touch and go with that one. This morning, I had two Hannahs on my hands.
I managed to get them both in an upright position and dressed. Camden had her eyes shut the whole time. Hannah refused to even lift an arm to help me out and kept toppling backwards onto her bed with some "I'm done with this bull crap" sighs and grunts. Me too, Hannah, me too.
Breathe, Mom, breathe! This will all be over in about 40 minutes.
I ushered them both, still blinking like newborns who aren't quite sure what to do with all of the light, to the bathroom. We got their hair fixed and their morning bathroom needs taken care of without too much issue.
Right about now, Logan starts yelling from his crib and kicking the wall with both feet to let me know he's awake. Awesome. Let me just get the girls' breakfast started first, little man, then it's your turn.
Out to the kitchen we go. Hannah (usually) is fully awake by now and makes a quick breakfast decision. Camden, on the other hand, chooses this moment to get indecisive, uncooperative, and to start whining that we don't have what she wants for breakfast. I'm starting to get impatient and more than a little irritated because of the very unhappy noises coming out of the baby boy room, and I just want her to make a decision so I can go get the baby situation taken care of. We all know what you are going to pick, Camden, so just pick it! That's what my head is screaming. My outer mother is very calmly giving her options, even though I could already have what I know she is going to pick ready and on the table. Give her time, Mom, she's still very little (I have to constantly talk myself off of freak out ledges in the morning). Almost every morning Hannah wants a bagel with butter and Camden wants a bagel with cream cheese. Hannah's breakfast is taken care of when Camden finally decides on her (surprise) cream cheese bagel. Done!
As soon as they are at the table eating, it's off to get little man. I catch him mid-scream. The minute he hears the door creak open, he stops, giggles, jumps on his mattress a few times, and raises his arms so I can get him out of the crib. The easy part is over, though, because now it's time to change that diaper and dress him. Changing his morning diaper should be an Olympic event. He laughs through me getting his sleeper off, but the minute that diaper comes off, he goes stiff as a board and starts crying like I have him chained to the wall and am beating him with a 2 by 4 full of rusty old nails. I thought the girls were the dramatic ones! Once the clean diaper is on, he spends his getting dressed time throwing every article of clothing he possibly can onto the floor. He thinks he's hilarious!
Mid-diaper change, it never fails that Camden will come in fussing that she changed her mind and doesn't want her cream cheese bagel afterall. Can she have chex mix? Goldfish? Cookies? Spaghetti for breakfast instead? Yes, Camden you can have all of those things. When you are an adult living on your own and I'm not there to force you to eat something a little more breakfast worthy. NO! Get back to the table and eat your bagel. That was your choice, now you need to eat it or go to school hungry. I'm elbows deep in changing a diaper and I. CANNOT. HELP. YOU. for at least another 5 minutes. Just go eat!!!! Please!!!
By the time teeth are brushed, shoes and coats are on, and we are packed up ready to go, I'm thankful that I'm giving them to someone else for the day. That morning 40 minutes is the longest 40 minutes of my day.
Want to know how I know I'm insane? I start missing those little stink pots the minute I pull out of the school parking lot. I have cried pulling away from the school more times this year than ever before because the minute I get in the car, do a little happy to be free dance, and breathe a sigh of relief, I start missing them with an ache that goes all the way to my toes. Yes, I still get Logan all day, but he misses them, too! He wanders the house looking for them, which makes me miss them even more.
They are growing up way too fast on me. Pretty soon, they won't need me there to drag them out of bed (well, OK, maybe that part will always be my job), but they won't need me to dress them, do their hair, get them breakfast, and try to love them through a morning they aren't quite ready to be awake for yet. They'll want to take the bus to school because having your Mom drop you off and pick you up isn't quite as cool as it should be. Pretty soon, they won't need me in quite the way they need me now. So, I'm going to do my best to enjoy these mornings and to hug them through the "tough" times that every morning brings. They are happy enough by the time we head out the door. I like to think that I'm part of what turns their morning around. My fingers are crossed that they will always need me to help get their mornings on track, but deep down I know that eventually they will be able to do that on their own.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
On Remembering Important Things
We are in a very popular wedding season right now. I feel like I have people on Facebook giving a shout out to their significant other for a wedding anniversary every single time I log in right now. In fact, I was doing that same thing just a few weeks ago (9 years...whoop...whoop). It makes me smile every single time. In a day when divorce is so very common, I can't come up with more than maybe two friends who have had to go down that awful road. And the ones who have, have come out renewed and have married again...in a lasting way. I see year after year, commitment after commitment, of people having found their soul mates. It warms the heart. It really does. I pray that we all keep fighting for our marriages and our loves just like we are doing now. 9 years, 10 years, 35 years, and beyond.
The part that leaves me scratching my head is when I see a post saying something to the effect of "14 years ago on this day at this very second, our eyes met across the room and that was the beginning of the end for us. We have been together ever since that very second" or "Our first date happened on this day 7 years ago." Say, what?!? You really remember that? I can remember that Heath and I had our first date at Applebees (12 years ago? Or 13?). I remember some of what we talked about. I think it might have been in the fall(?) Maybe. I remember a few girls from my dorm floor stopping us and going on and on about how cute it was that the two of us had just gone on our first date and how great we were together. Whoa! Slow down, OK!?
I should interject and say right here that I am terrible with numbers. I forget almost immediately what the date is when I wake up in the morning. I can always tell you what day of the week it is, what happened that day, and how I felt, but the actual date...flies right out the window!!! Today is August 29th, right? Checked the calendar. Literally, just stopped and did this to reassure myself on the date. It's the 28th!!!!! FAIL!
Back to wedding anniversaries. Want to know why I'll never forget my wedding date? Because even if I tried, it's engraved on the inside of my wedding band...BOOM! Anyhow, we have a hard time buying for anniversaries. We even look up the "appropriate" wedding gifts for each year. I just looked this up recently, but I couldn't tell you what the gift for year 9 might be. Modern day gift...I want to say leather?! HUH!?! Here you go, Heath! Some fancy pants just for you!!! NOT!
Anyway, a few days before our anniversary, Heath looks at me with a twinkle in his eye and tells me that he was asking around for ideas at work. One of the ladies (OK, the only lady in the office...love you, Mary) told him that she's heard about men buying watches and setting the time to the exact time they got married years before. Heath looked at me and grinned (I love his grin) and very confidently told me we got married at around 11 in the morning. I burst out laughing! I was full of superiority! It definitely wasn't in the morning. It was around 2 in the afternoon. Right? Or, wait!!! It was definitely on the 30 minute mark. You should always get married on the upswing of the hour. That's a thing, right? So, was it 1:30 or 2:30? I still haven't checked the wedding invitation because I'm almost postive it was 2:30 and I don't want to burst my own bubble. That sounds right. Or was it? SEE!!! I can't even remember the exact time of the start of the most important moment of my life!!!
Know what I remember? Waking up at 5 in the morning so full of excitement that I couldn't get back to sleep. I remember waking up one of my bridesmaids at 6 because I didn't want to be alone watching Saved By the Bell on the biggest day of my life! Kati, you are the best! You didn't need the sleep, right? I remember all of the prep work. I remember when it was time for the rest of my life to start. I remember looking at my Dad full of nerves wondering if I was going to cry my way through this ceremony and telling him he was absolutely not to cry or I WOULD LOSE IT! Know what he did? The best thing he ever possibly could have done. He looked at me and smiled and told me that I had always had a level head and made good decisions and that he had no doubt that I had made a good decision this time. I remember this huge weight lifting off of my shoulders. I remember those huge doors opening to a crowd (a pretty big one) of faces smiling at me. Faces that had loved me and Heath from the very beginning. Some faces that had never met me before, but were still smiling at me because I was the one Heath chose. And then I found his face. My favorite face. My husband's face. I cried at every wedding before mine and every wedding after mine, but I didn't cry at my own. I felt peace. I felt love. I felt like it was 100% right. I don't remember the time, but I do remember every detail of how I felt that day.
I also can't tell you the date of the day we got engaged. It was June-ish of 2004 (bonus points for getting the year). He was leaving to move to Houston, Texas. I was staying in Ohio. I was pretty sure if he left without putting a ring on my finger, that would be the end of the best thing I had ever known. Guys. He put a ring on it. Very late at night. On the last night before he left. At the house I grew up in. My mom was sleeping. My Dad and brothers were watching a movie. I was in my pj's and headed to bed. Heath followed me up to my room to say good-night, got down on his knee in the pitch black and asked me to do him the honor of being his wife. It was perfect. I remember every detail...except the date!!!! OOPS!!!
I wish I had a mind for numbers. I'm probably (hopefully) never going to forget the actual birthdate of any member of my family. The other numbers might go (and more quickly than I'm anticipating) with time. Hannah is only five and I still have to stop and really think about what time she was born (4:41 pm, thank you very much). I can give you the time and her weight, but her length is already gone. I'm sure the other numbers will be gone soon, too. Luckily, I wrote them down. I can tell you exactly how I felt, though. I remember every gory, beautiful detail. I remember crying in wonder. I didn't have the most fun pregnancy. I literally threw up every day through the whole 9 months. I was miserable. I remember looking at Heath before they had even cleaned Hannah up and brought her back to me and telling him that I would absolutely do it all over again. Because of the love I felt that day. In that moment. And every moment after.
Guess what? I did it again. 2 more times. I threw up basically the whole pregnancy with the next 2 as well. Stinkers. Camden and Logan are going to throw me for a loop. One was born at 12:06 pm (Logan) and one was born at 12:17 pm (Camden). I can tell you now who is who, but in a few years, I will probably forget. However, I guarantee I will always be able to tell you how I felt with each baby. (Side note. I just put Logan down for a nap and have a poster up with all his birth stats in his room. He was born at 12:07. Dang it!!!! Now I need to go back and check Camden's time. Oops again! Camden was actually born at 12:16. I was close! Don't feel too bad for my kids)!
I have had 4 best days of my life so far. I can tell you the dates (so far) and the times (sort of...close enough), and I can guarantee I can tell you exactly how I felt, even as the numbers start to fade. I wish I had a mind for numbers. I have no doubt that those of you with minds for numbers who can remember dates AND times can also remember the feeling. For me, I'll just have to stick with the feeling...and general date. Any of you want to remember the exact dates and times for me, too!?!
Isn't life amazing, you guys? Soak in every single major (and minor) detail. Whether you remember details (like dates...I'm just jealous of those of you who can) or not, I guarantee you will always remember the feelings. What a blessing!
The part that leaves me scratching my head is when I see a post saying something to the effect of "14 years ago on this day at this very second, our eyes met across the room and that was the beginning of the end for us. We have been together ever since that very second" or "Our first date happened on this day 7 years ago." Say, what?!? You really remember that? I can remember that Heath and I had our first date at Applebees (12 years ago? Or 13?). I remember some of what we talked about. I think it might have been in the fall(?) Maybe. I remember a few girls from my dorm floor stopping us and going on and on about how cute it was that the two of us had just gone on our first date and how great we were together. Whoa! Slow down, OK!?
I should interject and say right here that I am terrible with numbers. I forget almost immediately what the date is when I wake up in the morning. I can always tell you what day of the week it is, what happened that day, and how I felt, but the actual date...flies right out the window!!! Today is August 29th, right? Checked the calendar. Literally, just stopped and did this to reassure myself on the date. It's the 28th!!!!! FAIL!
Back to wedding anniversaries. Want to know why I'll never forget my wedding date? Because even if I tried, it's engraved on the inside of my wedding band...BOOM! Anyhow, we have a hard time buying for anniversaries. We even look up the "appropriate" wedding gifts for each year. I just looked this up recently, but I couldn't tell you what the gift for year 9 might be. Modern day gift...I want to say leather?! HUH!?! Here you go, Heath! Some fancy pants just for you!!! NOT!
Anyway, a few days before our anniversary, Heath looks at me with a twinkle in his eye and tells me that he was asking around for ideas at work. One of the ladies (OK, the only lady in the office...love you, Mary) told him that she's heard about men buying watches and setting the time to the exact time they got married years before. Heath looked at me and grinned (I love his grin) and very confidently told me we got married at around 11 in the morning. I burst out laughing! I was full of superiority! It definitely wasn't in the morning. It was around 2 in the afternoon. Right? Or, wait!!! It was definitely on the 30 minute mark. You should always get married on the upswing of the hour. That's a thing, right? So, was it 1:30 or 2:30? I still haven't checked the wedding invitation because I'm almost postive it was 2:30 and I don't want to burst my own bubble. That sounds right. Or was it? SEE!!! I can't even remember the exact time of the start of the most important moment of my life!!!
Know what I remember? Waking up at 5 in the morning so full of excitement that I couldn't get back to sleep. I remember waking up one of my bridesmaids at 6 because I didn't want to be alone watching Saved By the Bell on the biggest day of my life! Kati, you are the best! You didn't need the sleep, right? I remember all of the prep work. I remember when it was time for the rest of my life to start. I remember looking at my Dad full of nerves wondering if I was going to cry my way through this ceremony and telling him he was absolutely not to cry or I WOULD LOSE IT! Know what he did? The best thing he ever possibly could have done. He looked at me and smiled and told me that I had always had a level head and made good decisions and that he had no doubt that I had made a good decision this time. I remember this huge weight lifting off of my shoulders. I remember those huge doors opening to a crowd (a pretty big one) of faces smiling at me. Faces that had loved me and Heath from the very beginning. Some faces that had never met me before, but were still smiling at me because I was the one Heath chose. And then I found his face. My favorite face. My husband's face. I cried at every wedding before mine and every wedding after mine, but I didn't cry at my own. I felt peace. I felt love. I felt like it was 100% right. I don't remember the time, but I do remember every detail of how I felt that day.
I also can't tell you the date of the day we got engaged. It was June-ish of 2004 (bonus points for getting the year). He was leaving to move to Houston, Texas. I was staying in Ohio. I was pretty sure if he left without putting a ring on my finger, that would be the end of the best thing I had ever known. Guys. He put a ring on it. Very late at night. On the last night before he left. At the house I grew up in. My mom was sleeping. My Dad and brothers were watching a movie. I was in my pj's and headed to bed. Heath followed me up to my room to say good-night, got down on his knee in the pitch black and asked me to do him the honor of being his wife. It was perfect. I remember every detail...except the date!!!! OOPS!!!
I wish I had a mind for numbers. I'm probably (hopefully) never going to forget the actual birthdate of any member of my family. The other numbers might go (and more quickly than I'm anticipating) with time. Hannah is only five and I still have to stop and really think about what time she was born (4:41 pm, thank you very much). I can give you the time and her weight, but her length is already gone. I'm sure the other numbers will be gone soon, too. Luckily, I wrote them down. I can tell you exactly how I felt, though. I remember every gory, beautiful detail. I remember crying in wonder. I didn't have the most fun pregnancy. I literally threw up every day through the whole 9 months. I was miserable. I remember looking at Heath before they had even cleaned Hannah up and brought her back to me and telling him that I would absolutely do it all over again. Because of the love I felt that day. In that moment. And every moment after.
Guess what? I did it again. 2 more times. I threw up basically the whole pregnancy with the next 2 as well. Stinkers. Camden and Logan are going to throw me for a loop. One was born at 12:06 pm (Logan) and one was born at 12:17 pm (Camden). I can tell you now who is who, but in a few years, I will probably forget. However, I guarantee I will always be able to tell you how I felt with each baby. (Side note. I just put Logan down for a nap and have a poster up with all his birth stats in his room. He was born at 12:07. Dang it!!!! Now I need to go back and check Camden's time. Oops again! Camden was actually born at 12:16. I was close! Don't feel too bad for my kids)!
I have had 4 best days of my life so far. I can tell you the dates (so far) and the times (sort of...close enough), and I can guarantee I can tell you exactly how I felt, even as the numbers start to fade. I wish I had a mind for numbers. I have no doubt that those of you with minds for numbers who can remember dates AND times can also remember the feeling. For me, I'll just have to stick with the feeling...and general date. Any of you want to remember the exact dates and times for me, too!?!
Isn't life amazing, you guys? Soak in every single major (and minor) detail. Whether you remember details (like dates...I'm just jealous of those of you who can) or not, I guarantee you will always remember the feelings. What a blessing!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)