Why it stinks to be a mom on your birthday

I am turning 35 today. I had a blog that I was working on titled, "Things I can do at 35 that I couldn't at 25". It was full of items that while hilarious, are really issues that I hate about getting older or even that I sort of "pity" myself for enduring. Topics such as: gaining weight just by looking at food, varicose veins, stretch marks, wearing the same clothes, shoes, and jewelry over and over, topped my list. While I could delve into funny stories about each topic I started thinking about the choices that have led me to what some (including myself) may look at as misfortunate and disgusting. I realized while I may look at these things as trying or even depressing sometimes, I have four people that I brought into this world that were worth every "hideous" mark and bulging vein. 

I even had an ugly cry/pity party, for myself yesterday about how my birthday was going to be spent at home all day with sick children, since a virus is slowly spreading through our family. I wasn't going to get gussied up and go out. I would be taking temperatures, administering meds, changing diapers, washing laundry, cleaning toilets, etc. All of these things are not really enjoyable ways to spend a birthday. 

However, today I woke up thankful. I am so incredibly thankful that I get to spend the day with these beautiful gifts. I get to sit with my big teenager and apply a cold rag to his head and talk about Star Wars and college. I can watch my one year-old run around the living room jabbering the new words he's learned that mostly, only he can understand, but he's proud nonetheless. I am able to listen to my overachieving, ambitious nine-year old count to one hundred in Japanese (because she decided to teach herself) and listen to her list of things she needs to do before she turns 11. (Because she is about to turn 10 and that would be too soon to do things like get a book published and break a world record, so she's giving herself a little time.) And I also get to listen to my spirited three year-old scream at the top of her lungs because she can't find her pink sunglasses. Even though she can drain me, she can also give me the sweetest smile and tell me how much she loves me, and at that moment my heart feels full. 

While life with my four children is in no way perfect, and most days I spend standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes and pulling my hair out, I am so thankful I have these amazing people. I in no way deserve them. There are so many other people in this world that are more deserving and would be far more thankful on a daily basis for the love of these four children. 

I'm thankful that God can forgive me when I am not grateful, and when I am pitching a baby/diva fit. I am thankful for the grace and understanding that I receive from Him. I am just a human who falls minute by minute, and I hope that I will never forget to look up in search of His forgiveness for the things I may take for granted. I am also thankful today for the love and grace of my husband. I can be pretty harsh and unforgiving to him but he just holds on through my diva fits and still tries to shower me with the unconditional love I don't deserve. 

I am undeserving of the love and grace that I receive daily but today I am thankful. 

Love is

Love is so misconstrued and misinterpreted in our culture. It is equated to a warm fuzzy feeling or romance. I think love is so much more. 

Love is.....

Staying awake all night to reassure that you are there, that everything will be alright. This can come in different seasons of life. When you have an infant, or when there is a traumatic event in life, or you or your loved one is just going through a rough time. When you or they are sick or even nearing the end. Love is staying by their side. 

Wiping noses, changing diapers, feeding, cleaning, dressing them. It's not the most enjoyable part of love but, love will see you through your worst and at your most vulnerable. From the time when your infant needs you for all diaper changes and feedings and cleanings, to the time in life when you or your spouse or loved one may need help through sickness, injury, or old age. When they can't lift their head or body to help themselves. When they need you to help them get healthy or even keep them alive. That is love. It's wading through the mess. It's giving them your best, even when it's not pleasant. 

It's putting your dreams, goals, and ambitions on the back burner and sometimes it's not. There are seasons when your loved one may need you physically to be there by their side and there are sometimes that they need to see you work hard for your dreams. Determining which and when can be tricky but, in the end that's what love does. Love sacrifices. 

It's encouraging and equipping and sometimes letting go. Even writing that was hard. The last thing I want is to let my children leave my nest one day. The world is cruel, the world is tough. It's unforgiving and brutal but it's also beautiful and awe inspiring. My children have big goals and aspirations. Chasing after those may end in defeat or victory. It may not be safe but better to have lived and experienced than to sit on the sidelines watching. I want them to see and experience all that they can imagine. I want them to dream and inspire others. In order to do that I must give them wings and let them go. 

Love is also holding on. From infancy we scream and we cry, this doesn't change. When we become teenagers we scream and push our parents to the brink. As young adults, discovering our new found freedom, we push and scream some more. And sometimes as spouses when the going gets tough, we scream and we push again. Love doesn't waiver. Love doesn't budge. Love holds on through the storm. Even though the winds may blow and the boat may rock. Even though the one we love screams and kicks, we are their constant. We are steady. Even if when they look at us they don't see us or know us, love never stops loving. 

Love is sacrifice. Love is caring. Love is holding on and letting go. Love is never giving up. Love is so much more than just a feeling. Love is hard. Love is perseverance. Love never ends.

7 Parents We Love to Hate

Parenting is an adventure and most of us would agree possibly the toughest job on the planet. We all either are, have been, aspired to be, or will be at some point the type of parents listed below. We have to laugh at our parenting prowess to keep from going insane. So here is the list of parents we love to hate. 

1. The "My child has slept all night since birth" parent. When this person shares this bit of information with you, after the fight or flight reaction of punching them in the face due to your total sleep deprivation, you immediately jump to the "fact" that you obviously are doing this whole parenting thing wrong and/or there is something wrong with your child. 

Believe me I have 4 children and none of them have slept so spanning my 14 1/2 years of parenting I've probably gotten 2 hours of sleep (my math skills are spot on). I know I haven't done what's necessary to teach my children to sleep but I also know some kids are just more difficult than others. I happen to have 4. 

2. The parents who NEVER miss church. I have grown up in the South and lived here most of my life. If you and your family aren't in church every time the doors are open then you probably don't love Jesus. Most churches have Wednesday, Sunday morning, and Sunday night services. As a true Christian family you should be there all three times or people might start questioning your relationship with the good Lord. (Before you gasp too deeply and pass out fellow southerners this is a joke...sort of.)

I am in no way saying regular church attendance isn't important because it can be very instrumental in spiritual growth. However, we all know "that" family, I really wish I could be them. They NEVER miss a service or fellowship and somehow they do this all while looking like they stepped out of a Ralph Lauren catalog (if there are even catalogs anymore but you get the point) and their children are dressed to the nines in boutique clothing complete with matching bows and shoes and their initials are probably monogrammed somewhere. For goodness sake I monogrammed my first daughter's initials on her diaper cover. I had a bow in her hair every single day of her life until she was 7. The bigger the better. And don't even get me started on appliqué or smocking. I mean honestly, is there anything else you can slap on a plain white shirt or dress and increase the value by $50+ in the south? I don't think so. 

I commend this family for braving hell or high water, extreme cold and snow, and facing the dreaded flu season with no fear (because hypochondriac, fear driven people like me look at the nursery at this time of year and don't see sweet little children....I see germs....EVERYWHERE!!!). It truly is amazing that your five year old has perfect attendance at Sunday School, while having 3 younger siblings. Mom, I would love to know your secrets and have your wardrobe or just your clothing budget. 

Let's just follow that one up with...

3. The parents whose children must ALWAYS be dressed perfectly. Their kids always have the latest styles, the cutest hair and accessories (complete with monogrammed backpack, yes I've been guilty of this as well). Their children dare not step outside of the house with miss matched clothes or a costume when it isn't Halloween. 

I've pretty much given up on this dream of perfectly dressed children. I try to suggest or guide them and I especially try to ensure they aren't scantily clad but other than that I have begun to choose my battles and if my daughter wants to dress like Anna from Frozen while we go to the grocery store and the weather is permitting, then why not? You're only a kid once. Explore your style, enjoy your comfort, and rock that ninja turtle costume like its 1989!

4. Super healthy, non GMO, all natural/organic mom or dad. I have DESPERATELY wanted to be this parent. I have tried SO hard but my budget, time, and will just aren't strong enough. When I saw that a vegetarian friend of mine (who is in awesome shape along with the rest of her family) made spinach and peach smoothies for her children to drink for breakfast, I immediately texted my husband that we were SO going to do that!! I'm sure he was like.... yay...(read that with no excitement and complete sarcasm). Just the look of this drink made my children want to puke. While it would be a super healthy alternative it just didn't work for us. 

The time that needs to go into planning and preparing the all natural, non GMO food can't be done consistently. Not when you have several kids. Because sometimes you just have to buy that box of frozen waffles or pancakes or pick up that $5 pizza because if you spend one more minute in the kitchen with a child or children screaming at your feet you just might bury your face in the unrefined coconut oil sprinkled with organic flax seed and scream!!!! 

5. The parents whose children have never gone through separation anxiety or social awkwardness. You know the feeling when you go to drop off your child at nursery or daycare and they scream bloody murder while doing the choke hold around your neck. It's heart wrenching to see the fear in your child's eyes when you think they feel as though you're abandoning them. What doesn't make that feeling any better is the caregiver or by stander/friend who wants to look shocked and horrified by your child's behavior or they want to tell you that their child always loved going into childcare and never cried a tear. 

Thank you for your support. I realize I've made my child a clingy basket case. Why don't you take her/him for a while and see what you can do. Wait...no...I won't let you because I am a crazy hovering mother who can't let go of her child even though his screaming is making me want to run far, far away right now...I'll probably just run with him in my arms while we both scream. 

Having the child who has separation anxiety and social awkwardness is a double bonus. Yes, dear sweet church lady, every single time you talk to her she is going to look angrily at you and hide behind my leg. Just be glad she's not screaming at the top of her lungs like her brother does when a stranger speaks to him. It takes a lot of work to be this socially awkward and a lot of mommy nervous sweats. 

6. The parent who has a child that says the sweetest things you've ever heard. We've all known or been this parent. I know I've been guilty of it, I just thank the sweet Lord above that there wasn't Facebook when I had my first child. All of us think our first child hung the moon and broke the mold of all awesomeness and no one has ever seen or heard the greatness that spews forth from them. It's just how it is. We're new to all of this making little people stuff but by the second, third, or forth you think they're cute and all but you realize they may just be the spawn of satan sometimes and if that's the case you know who that means satan must be....that's right...it has to be your spouse. 

These parents with angelic children would never have a child that drops a bomb in public, maybe even...dare I say it....CHURCH!!! I'm not talking about a diaper bomb. I am speaking of an unforgivable sin of foul language which could have only been learned by his/her other parent or from the hours of dreaded, unsupervised TV I've let them watch. (Yes, I'd much rather have committed that sin than to fess up to the fact that I cuss.) Of course, others look horrified or they give a smirk like, I knew it! I knew she was a heathen!! They have rarely ever let a dirty word slip passed their lips much less in front of their child. Let's just be honest. I try my best not to say "bad" words in front of my children but usually they are what cause me to want to cuss a blue streak so sometimes I can't hold it in. Here's your halo and your wings non-cussing parent. You really deserve them if you can control your mouth 24/7 with a toddler and a teen. And the people said, "Amen!"

7. The mom who left the hospital after giving birth in her pre-maternity blue jeans. This is a mythical creature that I've heard about on occasion. Usually the occasion is when I'm about to burst out of my maternity pants. Some kind soul decides to tell me about their niece, friend, sister-in-law, etc. who just after giving birth jumped right back into her regular blue jeans. Who is this person?!?! Are you kidding me?!?! From the moment I see two lines on a pregnancy test I'm in elastic waist pants, my feet and ankles become as wide as my thighs and I've got those bad boys propped up in the recliner. There is no "popping" right back into shape after my entire body has swollen to its greatest capacity before exploding. Whoever these mythical creatures are, if they indeed do exist, they really need to continue to reproduce and create a super human race of perfect people. I'm sure they will NEVER miss church and look AWESOME all the time!

So, if you found yourself in any of these parents, you're not alone. Except if you're a super skinny mom who just gave birth and your newborn sleeps all night, then I think you're pretty much alone, but I think you're ok with that. 

The Homeless Get My Leftovers

The past two years have been a whirl wind. I've had the opportunity to see so much of the beauty across the western part of the U.S.  My absolute FAVORITE part of all of the amazing scenery were the unbelievable, gargantuan mountains. 

The Rockies, Cascades, and Sierra Nevada Mountain ranges are the most breath taking thing I have ever laid eyes on. Just ask my children because as we were driving near these glorious beauties I never stopped shouting, "Look, look over there!  Do you see that?!? Are you looking?!? I don't think you're looking. Stop reading, stop looking at your iPad and look!!! You might not ever see this again!!"

And don't get me started on snow covered mountains. When we lived in Eugene, Oregon I would drive to the top of Skinner's Butte several times a week during the winter to see if I could catch a glimpse of The Sisters when they were covered with snow. It always made my heart skip a beat.
Every. Single. Time.

It was always awe inspiring. Something that my eyes just couldn't quite grasp, and my brain would try to process that it was real. I wasn't looking at a painting. I was really there.  

Just below Skinner's Butte was the Whitaker neighborhood. It was the "rough" part of Eugene, although it was making a major transformation. Many eclectic restaurants and breweries were making their new homes there. It was was becoming a really cool place to go for lunch or dinner. 

College kids, hipsters, middle aged adults, and beyond had begun to frequent this part of town for the unique cuisine and funky northwest atmosphere that only a neighborhood like "The Whit" in Eugene, Oregon could provide.
 

What made this area even more interesting was that while it was experiencing this new growth, it was also a home to the homeless. This is where most of the transient wanderers would gather, sleep, and spend their time. The parks where children would play were often where the homeless made their beds.

I've lived a very sheltered life in small town Alabama. This was a new experience for me. I didn't know how to handle seeing the homeless man sitting on a park bench, reading the newspaper that he had gotten from the trash can. Then watching as he patiently waited for people to finish their lunches. As they put their discarded leftovers in the trash and then left the park, he would go to the trash can and take their scraps and make that his meal. 

Over the summer my children and I frequented the park where a particular homeless man spent his time. I watched him. He stayed back. Away from the children and the parents or caregivers. As if he knew that his presence would be off putting. No one seemed to notice him. He waited patiently for his meals to come on the heels of what others found as refuse. 

It was hard to watch. Here I was with four children. There wasn't really anything I could do. I was scared. What if I tried to talk to him? What would I say? Was he dangerous?  Was he so drunk or drugged or just mentally unstable that it would even make a difference if I spoke to him?  So, I did the only thing I could think of. As he disappeared into the public restroom, I walked over to where he had his pile of blankets, newspapers, and other personal belongings, and I gave him our leftovers. 

I gave him what we didn't want to eat. What we had left. I didn't give him our best but just what we could spare. I had every intention of coming back the next day and leaving him a real meal. But I didn't. Life got in the way and I put him out of my mind. I know. I have a family to take care of. Children to feed and I shouldn't cause myself grief for not feeding a homeless man the best that I could but that's not what we are called to do. While we are not called to shame ourselves, we should show love. 

I learned much more about love than I think I even realized from my experience in the northwest. I learned that it's love that we desire when we are hurting. It's love that we need when we are angry. Love is the only thing that can diffuse a tense situation. Love is what we need but yet it's the hardest thing to put into action. 

My time in the northwest was primarily filled with just trying to wrap my mind around the transition. Trying to adjust to my new life. Trying to help my children adjust to their new lives. I was an observer most of the time that I was there. But those observations changed me.

Had I not gone to the northwest I might never had attended a Bible study with a transgendered teen. He was homeless. One of the ladies who attended the Bible study also volunteered at the homeless shelter for youth. She worked her shift and offered to bring some of the girls with her to the study. He wanted to come along too. 

This was one of the only times I had ever made it to the ladies Bible study. I'm not going to make it sound like I was involved and leading studies. I wasn't. Like I said, the transition and adjustment rocked my world. I had a nursing baby when we moved to Eugene, then I became pregnant 6 months after being there. It was a crazy hormonal time for me. 

Nevertheless, this was one of my first "stepping out of my comfort zone" experiences. I realized after listening to the young, homeless, transgender teen talk that he just needed to know he was loved. He talked about being rejected by his parents, grandparents, and step-parents. He talked about being treated like trash and used for the amusement and pleasure of others. 

Not once did he talk about a time that he ever felt accepted and loved unconditionally. Not once did he say that he had someone who told him that no matter what, they would always love him, regardless of his life choices. He felt a harsh judgment by people of the church due to his experience with family members and others. 

Isn't that a common thread that we all grab a hold of from time to time in our lives? Attributing who God is to experiences that we've had with people who go to church or hold high positions in the church. I know it's something I have held onto. I have had a bad taste in my mouth for church or anything to do with it because of people. I've distance myself from God because of people. I've also been one of the people who has caused someone else to steer away from church and God because of my actions. 

It's a relief to know that people are just people and regardless of their church position or affiliation, they are not God. People are going to make a mess of things but not God. That's why it's so imperative that we try to keep His love on the forefront of our minds. 

When we are feeling alone and rejected, we need to be loved. When I am feeling like I've screwed everything up, including my kids, I need to be loved. When my children have screwed up, instead of screaming at them (my automatic response), they need to be loved. The people who look like they don't want anything to do with love, look like the hardest to love, or reject love, need it the most. 

No matter what we've done God is always looking for us. He wants to be with us. People might reject us and tell us we have to live a certain way or look a certain way to earn love, but that's not God. He wants our time and he wants our hearts.

15 years of marriage

I've been excited about our 15th anniversary all year. I've thought about how we should celebrate. Should we renew our vows? Should we go away for the weekend? What awesome, incrediblely thoughtful gift am I going to get Erik that finally trumps all of the sweet gifts he has planned for me over the past 16 years?

This was going to be epic!  The day has come!  It's November 19th! We've been married 15 years! And guess what? I've got nothing. I mean I am completely and totally a major failure when it comes to gift giving. We are always operating on very little funds so a big expensive gift just isn't going to happen until all of our children have jobs (and I get a job too). 

Somehow asking him to give me the money he has worked for so that I can go buy him a gift feels less than fabulous. I should save up for things like this over the course of the year but life happens. Cars breakdown (or I run into things or other cars), moves across the country happen for the second time in two years, a new to us home needs to be purchased that while suits our style and uniqueness, needs some t.l.c. which causes major fund dispersion. 

That's just life or our life anyway. And then there is just normal life with kids. 3 of us have pink eye, 5 of us have a cold, 1 is injured, it just goes on and on because that's life with kids. It's unpredictable and completely predictable all at the same time.

The mess, pain, and heartache that occurs because we are human just happens. And for some reason it always takes us by surprise because we want to think that our lives should run smoothly and undisrupted by the natural occurrences of life. 

I don't deal with life well on most occasions. Especially during pregnancy and probably for the year or so after. It just rattles me and crazy hormones don't help. But when I can't handle life, which is a lot, my husband is there. He's unshaken even though I cause a lot of tremors or straight up earthquakes. He stays. 

He doesn't let me give up and he doesn't give up on me. Even though I can be irrational, shocking I know, and unreasonable. Even though I can scream and hurt with my words because I'm just so tired of the daily struggles sometimes. He doesn't leave. He's helped me hang on the past few years when I really didn't see what I could hang on to. 

He would say I did the same for him in the past and it's just time for him to return the favor but I know the truth. He's been the glue. Even though we've both made mistakes I'm the one who flounders. I'm the one who wants to throw in the towel but not him. He digs in his heels even though he may not know what to do, he stands firm. He keeps us together. He keeps our family pressing forward. 

I don't know how he carries us all. We are an unbearably heavy load. I hope that as we press on that I'll feel strong enough to bear the load so he doesn't have to all the time. But I am so thankful that he continues to carry us so that our family can get stronger. 

Maybe my epic gift failure can turn into a victory. Maybe just for this one day I can help bear the load. Maybe I can show him how much I appreciate how he has kept us together, kept us afloat, and kept me going. 

15 years of marriage makes me excited because I'm not naive enough to think that a marriage is unbreakable simply because you say you will always stay together. The for better or worse, richer or poorer, sickness and in health is really a lot more complicated than it sounds.  

Life happens and we all have our own burdens and struggles. We aren't immune to it all. We haven't done it all right and we never will but I'm thankful that we can look back on these bumpy 15 years and celebrate that we've hung on and I hope we cling to each other for the next 50+. 

Reflecting on Veteran's Day

I am so very thankful for the men and women who have protected us. The men and women who have laid down their lives, left their families, their homes, their country to go to a foreign land where they are unsure of the dangers that may await them. Places where they are hated for who they are and what they do. They sacrifice everything to bring safety to others. Those who have served and are serving are to be commended for their bravery. 

While thinking about Veteran's Day and how thankful I am that there are those who serve our country, I began to think what if there were no need for any soldiers in the world? What if each and every human began to think of each and every other human in this world as worthy? What if we all saw each other as vital and important?

You see the evil and hurt in the world begin when life isn't viewed as precious. The degradation of life begins when we see others as less than ourselves and begin using them for our pleasure or hurting them for our gain. When we think that our view is so right that others should be treated as dirt or trash who do not share the same view. When people are killed and their lives thought of as expendable due to furthering a cause or furthering an extremist religion. 

We are all capable of this hate. There is not one of us who is so inherently good that they could not be capable of destroying another. Hate is passed down through families. It is taught. It is modeled. Hate is also forced upon children by others. They are forced or indoctrinated into these destructive beliefs. 

What if it all didn't exist? What if children were not taught to hate through abuse, anger, and judgement? What if we could raise a generation who sees the good in all people? 

There would be no more hate groups. No more terrorists. No more power hungry leaders who will kill to further their nation. No more kids who think the only solution is pick up a gun and stop the pain. No more drugs and violence. 

It all sounds so utopian and like a dream that will never happen. But I can't help to think that the Gospel calls us to this. It doesn't call us to hate. It doesn't call us to judge. It doesn't call us to kill. It calls for grace. It calls for love. It calls for mercy. 

Jesus asked His Heavenly Father to forgive those who violently murdered Him because they didn't know what they were doing. I can't help but to think that He looks at all mankind this way. We don't know what we are doing. We hold all of the keys to a world full of good things. A world full of people achieving the best that they can, being the best version of themselves that they can be. Jesus laid it all out for us. He lived the life. He walked the walk. He was our example. 

So on this Veteran's Day while I am so thankful for those who have served us, I pray that one day our soldiers wouldn't have to put their lives on the line. That all over the world people could recognize this short, precious gift we've been given, that is life. 

Writing Towards Sanity

I desperately want to write. I want to have something to do that I enjoy. Life is short. What am I good at? What gets my blood pumping? What am I passionate about?

I am passionate about my children and being a mom. But I have found myself losing the excitement of being a stay at home homeschool mom. (As glamorous and exciting as the job sounds :). I crave some sort of creative outlet. Creating with paint or other materials is too exhausting a job with a 3 year-old and a baby running/crawling around (plus I'm not really good at that). All I can seem to find time to do while nursing the baby, or lying extremely still beside them so they will nap, is write. 

Writing is my outlet. My husband, my biggest cheerleader and fan, tells me that I am an artist and I need to create. What?  No. Not me. I've never been artsy or creative. Everything I touch or try to create turns into a big mess or it looks really great for kindergarten art. 

I have to use my words. I need a release. We all do. Life is fleeting. We need to enjoy it. That's not an excuse to do whatever we want and whatever makes us "feel"good at the expense of our health or at the expense of others. However, we need to enjoy life. 

Do things that invigorate us. Do things that make us smile and make us laugh. Do those things that seem too hard or out of reach.

Travel. Experience new places and cultures. See the world from a different viewpoint so that maybe we can understand or sympathize. So that our minds aren't so closed and our hearts aren't so hard. 

Breathe. Relax. Smile. Laugh. Cry. Love. Sympathize. Understand. See the Beauty in Life and Living. Write Your Story. 

"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." Truvy (Dolly Parton) Steel Magnolias