Today is The Day

Today I am 34 years and 50 days old. My mother was 34 years and 49 days old when she drew her last breath.

I've been anticipating this day for the better part of the year. I've been wondering what emotions it would invoke in me and how I would want to spend the day. Would I be sad, empowered or depressed? Do I plan a fun family trip or spend it like any other normal day?

As I approached this day I guessed I would be kind of sad and I wavered between elaborate plans of fancy family vacations or a day filled with symbolic events: carousels, Wendy's hamburgers (with lettuce and mayonnaise only) and krispy kreme donuts. But, now that this day is here and I look back at the miracles that have taken place in my life over the last few months, I feel very different than I anticipated I would.

I feel so grateful.

I have spent the last two months on my couch with hyperemesis. When I decided to have another baby, I knew I would be sick and I prepared as much as possible, but nothing can completely prepare you for the debilitating illness to come. I laid on my couch (sometimes in my bed, too sick to make it to the couch) and watched life happen around me. Rides were offered for my children, meals were brought in, a party was thrown for Rascal when he turned 4, sitters were provided when my Sidekick needed a break, pizza gift cards anonymously showed up in the mail, my children were watched and cared for and my house was cleaned; all while I laid on the couch, sometimes too sick to speak. Most of the time, I didn't even ask for it, things just happened.

At night, I would lay in my bed and cry. I just wanted to be a mom again; make dinner, drive carpool, snuggle with my kids. And for some reason (probably because this pregnancy happened this year), I missed my mother more than ever.

As I look back over the last few months, I am in awe of the parallel of our lives. These past couple of months, in her life, were spent much the same way. Children were cared for, meals were brought in and her house was cleaned. My ninth birthday party was thrown by one of her friends. She laid on the couch, day after , miserable, and watched her life happen around her.

In the most healthy way possible, because of living these parallel lives, I've been able to get a taste of how she lived the last months of her life. Only her suffering marked the end of a life and my suffering marked the beginning of one.

A few months before my mother found out she had cancer, she had a miscarriage. Her plan was always to try again once the cancer was under control, but she never got that chance.

But, I do. I get to have the baby she never got to have.

In many ways, this baby is my compensation. The child I get because my mother was taken away so early. The life I am entrusted with, that she wanted so badly and never got. This baby, is my sweet justice.

And now that I'm here, it doesn't much matter how I spend today, but rather how I spend every day here after. All the days she never got to have. I know that she is there, watching over us and comforting us in every way possible, quite often through the guided acts of others. I didn't plan for things to line up the way they did but I am so grateful for the healing this timing has brought. Healing that I didn't know that I needed.

I am grateful for the dozens of people that have served my family, these last few months and 25 years ago. I am grateful for the love and comfort that I have felt through it all. I am grateful that this life will bring joy and comfort, healing and justice to my family and I am grateful for the lessons I have learned through the timing of these events. But, mostly I am grateful that I have been entrusted with these four amazing children. I am grateful I get to teach them and love them and I am so grateful to have love and guidance and protection from up above.

On this day, I am 34 years and 50 days old. And I am so grateful.

Whaddya think?

Bringing the Fallen Home

Last year, as we approached Veteran's Day, I wrote a post about my love for my Grandfather, Brother-in-Law, Uncle, cousin, friends and all the other veterans in my life. I have an enormous soft spot on my heart for our nation's military and the sacrifices they make every day, so I can live the life I live.

This year, as Veteran's Day approaches, I want to bring your attention to a project that is dear to my heart. The visionary of this project is my uncle, Les Carroll, and the fallen veterans mentioned in this film pitch, Carlos Aragon and Nigel Olsen were good friends and fellow marines who served in Afghanistan with my brother in law. I encourage you to watch the following video and, if it moves you, make a donation to it's cause. There is a story behind every statistic we hear on the news and those stories deserve to be told.

I would consider it a personal favor if you could pass this along. Blog about it, post it on your facebook page, tweet it; anything that could help spread the word. The more people who know, the better the chance we have of learning the stories behind the numbers.

Watch the video and learn more about the project here.

Whaddya think?

Heroes

It's amazing how experiencing a trial in your life can bring out the stories of the trials in others' lives. The stories of mothers who delivered full-term stillborn babies that were strangled by their umbilical cord the night before they were to be induced. The mother who incurred thousands of dollars in dental bills because she vomited so much during her pregnancy that it ate away the enamel on all of her teeth. And then, did it all again because she loved being a mother that much. And there's the mother who, after years and years of trying, finally got pregnant with triplets, only to miscarry them one at a time early in her second trimester. She caught those precious babies in her hands while sitting on the toilet.

Of course, these are the stories I hear now, but there are countless others. The parent who has to become both mother and father, due to the illness, passing or desertion of their spouse. The mother, who during a life threatening accident, has to make the split second decision about which child to save, and then will live forever second guessing her decision. Or the child, who is so severely abused as a child, but is determined to learn a different way and break the cycle so his children will grow up loved and secure.

I think quite often we live our lives and see the happy faces around us and believe that their lives have always left a smile on their face; their lives look so perfect. But, I'm learning that if you sat them down, one by one, and interviewed them, you would find that it was the hardships and trials of their lives that have left them with the smiles on their faces. The lessons they have learned and the experiences they have had that have turned them into the person they are today. That have turned them into the Hero they are today.

I am learning that we are all heroes. That we have all have trials and experiences that, although we feared that they would at the time, have NOT broken us. Instead they strengthen us and made us into the hero that we are. And amidst the turmoil, evil and moral decay that we live in today, I am so grateful to be living and raising my children among so many heroes.

Thank you for being my hero.

Whaddya think?

The Sweetest Blessings

After my 2nd, I said I'd never do it again.

After my 3rd, I swore I'd never do it again.

So, it came as a shock to many that here I am, doing it again, for a 4th time.

I love the babies, but I am desperately afraid of the pregnancies. I knew exactly what would be asked of me. At the worst, my life. At best, 2 months of my life where I would wish every day I could cease to exist. I knew the price I would be asked to pay. I knew the price my family would have to pay. I knew the debilitating illness that would follow the 2 lined stick, the array of prescription bottles that would only keep me stable, not well. So, when the inspiration came to give it one more try, I wrestled with it- for days. I cried, I pleaded, I begged. Please, can't there be any other way? But, ultimately I knew, it was a price I was willing to pay. Two months for a life. A life that would be mine to mold and love and cherish. Because, you see, it is from our most challenging and courageous sacrifices that we receive our sweetest blessings. I'm sure you have your own sacrifices. The decisions you are too afraid to make. The road that seems so scary. But, the blessing, that sweetest of all blessings, is worth the hard things that we are asked to endure. Mine, will be a baby. What will yours be?


Whaddya think?

The Importance of This Age

Today, I pulled slivers out of little feet.

Yesterday, I put on 3 band aids.

The day before, I tamed a temper tantrum so severe, I ended up buckling him in his car seat in the car, for his own safety.

I've called poison control 3 times, read a million stories, been through hundreds of boxes of band aids and sat in the corner on the floor in the museum, for a time out. Diapers and potties and tantrums and night time routines.

It. Is. Exhausting.

But, this is the time to lay our frame work. The lessons we teach and the decisions we make with our children right now, will build our foundation for the lessons and experiences that are yet to come.

Dr. Glenn Doman, a renowned scholar and scientist did extensive research on 18 month to 4 year olds. He has said that “a newborn child is almost an exact duplicate of [a] computer, although superior to one in almost every way.

“What is placed in the child’s brain during the first eight years of life is probably there to stay. If you put misinformation into his brain during this period, it is extremely difficult to erase it.” He believed that the most receptive age in human life is that of two or three years old.

He discovered that the hyperactive busyness of our toddlers is actually their insatiable desire to learn. So, today is was slivers and sippy cups, but it was also books (reading) and blocks (self confidence and problem solving). It was fighting with brothers (lots) and apologies and sharing. I'll probably crash into bed tonight from shear exhaustion (again). But, today mattered. A lot.

And tomorrow will to.




Whaddya think?

When We Don't Listen...

I learned a valuable lesson this weekend...

My brother and his wife flew in for a visit so we packed up the car and headed for the coast. We love the beach! We love to jump in the waves, dig in the sand and soak up some sun. We rented this cute little farm house with goats and llamas and fields and dropped our stuff off at our oasis getaway before heading to the ocean.

It was a beautiful 1/2 mile hike through the forest down to the beach and we marvelled at the trees and giant slugs along the way. The tide was beginning to come in, but we still had a good 25 feet or so of sandy beach before it ended at the edge of the cliff wall. There were great, large logs that had been washed up against the cliff wall where we could set up a safe, home base and have plenty of sand behind us for the kids to dig in. The waves were in true form. The were large and awe-inspiring and provided plenty of fun to run and jump in. We played for about an hour and had a great time.

But, from the moment we stepped off the trail, Buster, who's 9, was not impressed. He LOVES the beach, but he refused to get near the water. The only explanation that he could provide us was, "I don't feel right about this, those waves aren't safe." No amount of consoling or coercing could get him near that water, so we finally told him that if he didn't feel comfortable to stay back and play in the sand. But, for the entire hour, he never fully relaxed; he remained fixated on watching the waves.

After an hour or so, my Sidekick and I began to gather the children and to discuss our hike home: who was wet, where the shoes were, what we needed to do before dinner. As we were discussing the plan, out of no where came this huge, rogue wave. Our "safe" log which had previously allowed the largest of waves to only wet our toes, was no match for this wave. In a stunning second, we were all immersed up to our waists. Our bags and shoes were thrown behind us from our "safe" log and left in slow draining pool behind it. They would have washed out to sea if the log hadn't stopped them. By the grace of God, my Sister-in-Law saw the wave as it approached and had the foresight to grab Rascal, who was sitting next to her on our "safe" log, by the shoulders and hold on to him as the wave enveloped him. Luckily, Dodger had come in the dry off and stood behind us beside Buster, who stared, wide eyed in fear, as the wave hit.

After the initial shock wore off, we looked around to survey our damage. We were all drenched, our shoes and towels were drenched, but still there, and miraculously none of the children had been dragged out to sea. It was then that we realized that my brother, who had been standing 10 feet in front of us, where Dodger had been seconds before the wave hit, had been knocked down by the wave and was pinned under a massive log. The log, that moments before had been buoyant and weightless in the water, now trapped him against the sand. A moment of panic, screams for help and many good Samaritans later, he was freed. It took 9 people to lift the log off his leg. He had some scrapes and major bruises, but walked away.

The ocean, that had been our playground, had turned dangerous and deadly in an instance. Buster had been right. Buster had listened. In those few intense minutes, I learned that sometimes, our children listen better than we do. Next time one of my children says, "I don't feel good about this, it doesn't feel right", I will listen. And I pray that the day that I say to them, "I don't feel good about you going tonight, but I don't know why", that they will listen to me because I had trusted them. Because, sometimes, those feelings, save lives.

Whaddya think?

Dodger sitting on the log that pinned my brother

On the First Day of Summer Vacation

Yesterday was our first, official, scheduled day of summer vacation. (The boys got out of school last week, but I gave them a couple of free days). So, by 9 am, when I rolled out of bed (I LOVE my sleep), the big boys were dressed, had eaten and fed their younger brother, they'd cleaned their mess in the kitchen, wiped down the bathrooms, cleaned their rooms, made their beds, brushed their teeth and hair and were enjoying some screen time. Which meant that by the time I got up, I had very little to do before we could get on with the fun of the day. Last summer I was determined to have some structured, fun filled, summer days, so I made a big schedule on a piece of poster board and taped it up in the kitchen. That way, the boys could easily check and see what was going on that day or what to expect next. It worked so well, and with one day down, I have great hopes of another fabulous summer. So, just in case your summer days are filled with tv, chaos and getting nothing done, I thought I'd share our schedule with you.


7:00- 9:00 (as in they are up at 7 and me at 9) -wake up-
get dressed/hair/teeth
eat breakfast
jobs

-screen time-

12:00 -Lunch time-
-Learning time- (reading, work books, letter writing)

-Play time-
(no screens)
(sometimes we'll have scheduled activities here. today we made shrinky dinks. but I also have science projects, forts to paint and build, etc. But, most of the time, it's unstructured play time)

6:00 -Dinner time-
(evening jobs)


One day every week, we go on an outing. They are all planned out and include: local hikes, zoo, the movies, Children's museum, Aquarium, Reptile Zoo, Bounce house, parks, etc)

And one day a week, I hire a babysitter. Because I deserve to get a pedicure once in a while, but mostly because 3 kids + the grocery store= no fun. We are all happier that way.

They all have jobs, because we are a family and we all work together. To see how the job rewards work, you can read The Value of a Gem. Here are the jobs:

Buster:
Make Bed
Clean room
Unload dishwashes
Wipe down upstairs bathroom
Practice piano
Sweep kitchen (evening job)

Dodger:
Make Bed
Clean room
Unload silverware
wipe down downstairs bathroom
practice piano
clear dinner table (evening job)

Rascal:
Make bed (with mom's help)
Clean up toys
wipe off dinner table (evening job)


When their is structure, work and fun, summer is better. The fun happens and the house still stands. We hope your summer is as great as ours.

Whaddya think?