Grateful Hearts
28 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
in Family Matters, Spiritual Matters for the Christian Parent
I had an interesting conversation with my best friend tonight. It was about having things/services just to have them, not because you really need them. I am so guilty of that. I’m a little ashamed.
For example, I have satelite tv. In four rooms. Which makes absolutely no sense! Why? Because I only have two TVs. You do the math. And really, only one of the two gets watched on a regular basis. Not by me, of course.
I wanted tv for two reasons. One, I wanted to be able to watch the news and the weather when the weather was bad. And two, so Hannah could watch her favorite Nick Jr shows. Great plan. Sounds reasonable. However, there are a few factors I must relay. First things first, I never have time to watch the news or figure out how my DVR works to record it, and I haven’t stayed up past 9 o’clock in months. Second, did I mention it’s satellite? Cable isn’t available in our area yet so the only “bad weather” warning I’m gonna get is the blue screen that pops up when the signal goes out each time the wind blows too hard. I’m having Dave Brown withdrawals. Somehow, I just feel safer when he’s talking. I could get sucked to Oz in a tornado and not panic as long as Dave was there giving me the VTI readings and tracking rotation patterns. Just saying.
So, in all honesty, the four-room-satellite-tv-service-with-DVR is really for the benefit of a 3 year old who, by the way, only wants it on as background noise while she plays with her My Little Ponies. And believe me, DirectTV knows this! That’s why they put the good my kid’s favorite tv channels in the premium more expensive channel package. So I am paying $80 or so a month to have the Wonderpets as ambient background music. I should have just saved my money and bought the complete seasons of all her favorite shows on DVD. I wish I had put a little more thought into this before I signed a two-year agreement.
Oh, well, for Christmas I guess I’ll complete the senselessness and buy each of the girls (and by that, I mean me) a tv. At least that way I can justify why I have service in four rooms.
But the tv is not the only unnecessary thing we have. I’ve got 3 bedrooms. We use one. My garage? I’m too scared that I’m gonna hit the house with the Mothership so it stays parked in the driveway. And the humongous fridge? Just a really expensive way to store a case of mountain dew, gallon of milk, and bottle of ketchup. That’s all that’s in there.
We could get by in a one room apartment with a mini-fridge and a parking pad. Such a waste! It’s a waste I’m grateful for but I am concerned about the message it sends to my girls. I want them to understand that what’s most important is that their basic needs are met, and they are safe, healthy, and loved. I also want to instill a sense of responsibility in them to help others. This year, for Thanksgiving I think Hannah and I will check into preparing or serving meals to those in need. It’s never too young to start modeling service and we can still make time for family and our own traditions. I have so much to be grateful for and I hope to spark that same gratefulness in the hearts of my beautiful daughters!
Dear Little Brother
21 Sep 2011 Leave a Comment
Dear Little Brother,
I may not tell you this very often but you are a heck of a special guy and I want the world to know it! You have such a sweet and tender heart when you play with your nieces. It brings me so much joy to see their faces light up when you walk in the room. They adore their Gunkle Ray! 
Tomorrow you turn 19. I can’t believe that much time has passed. It seems like yesterday you were sleeping with a Mickey Mouse blanket and playing in the dirt with your Tonka trucks. I miss those days, but I am so proud of the young man you have become. I am looking forward to watching you graduate this year, and I am also dreading saying goodbye when you leave for military training. It makes sad that I won’t get to see you when I want, but I’m excited to see all the great things you will do!
And thank you for coming to my house on a minutes notice after a long day of work and school to entertain my kids so I could pack! You were a lifesaver! That’s why I love you, Little Brother…because I can count on you!
Thank you for insisting I let you dig through the POD to get my mattress too. I was totally set to put the kids in their travel beds and sleep on the floor. No biggie! But you wouldn’t have it! You moved a table and chairs, random boxes, and a washer and dryer all by yourself to make sure I could sleep comfortably. That rocks and my back will thank you!
I should remind you, though, that I, too, was in the military and I spent a three day field exercise sleeping in a foxhole (that I dug) with a gas mask on during a lightning storm that nearly drowned me in rainwater while I was attacked by fire ants. True story! After that, the dry and carpeted floor sans fire ants doesn’t sound so bad. Just remember that image as you make your final decision to join. I mean…I’m not trying to selfishly talk you out of it or anything…Did I ever tell you the story about how they made me drink water until I threw up? Then I had to drink more…
Okay, I’ll save it for later.
I love you and I hope you have the best birthday yet!
Love,
Big Sis
Time to Move!
20 Sep 2011 Leave a Comment
I have been waiting for this week for four long months. The longest four months of my life!!! Tomorrow, we close on our new home and we are MOVING! I am so grateful. The Lord has poured out blessings on our little family that I would never had imagined possible in the weeks that followed our loss. To be able to give my sweet baby girls a home that we will fill with good and wonderful memories just brings me to tears of gratitude. Thank you, Jesus!
But, oh boy! I totally forgot what a pain in the rear it was to connect services to a brand new home. Each utility of course has it’s own automated phone number where you spend thirty minutes pressing numbers so they can best direct your call, only to be asked the exact same questions once you get a real person, and then you are put on hold for another hour while that person transfers you to another department. I did this at least ten times today. God forbid, you’ve been on hold 45 minutes when you finally get to a real live human being who can help you and suddenly there is a freak solar eclipse and you lose your service! And what I hate even worse are those voice recognition lines. You know what I’m talking about, “please say your blah, blah, blah…for example, say ‘blah, blah, blah’…” Then, after the automated monologue, you say your answer only to hear it repeat something completely whacked and ask you, “Is this correct?” No! That’s not even close to what I said! “Okay, let’s try again. Please say blah, blah, blah…” Usually, if it didn’t understand you the first time, it’s not going to get you on the second-take. Sometimes those things end and sometimes they don’t and you have to just admit telephonic defeat and hang up. It’s even worse when you have kids because every squeak they make in the background puts the automated system into overdrive, “I’m having trouble understanding you. Please repeat that.” Hannah! Shut up!!! (spoken silently with a glare and a sharp finger to the lips which sends her into a fit of giggles) “I’m sorry. Let’s try again.” Ohhhhhhhh, forget it!
Because of this I am definitely not looking forward to calling and changing my address. For one, I live on a street with a ridiculous name that’s a throwback to an eighties movie. I can almost guess someone’s age based on whether they hear it and giggle or ask me to spell it. The other reason is that I have mail going to half a dozen separate addresses, most of which are also being forwarded multiple times. I’m sure there are more than a few important pieces of mail that are just being passed in an eternal circle at the post office right now. “Steve, didn’t I give you this same catalog yesterday?” For all I know I could have a warrant out for my arrest because I did not respond to a jury duty notice from three months ago. “Please don’t arrest me, officer! I swear I just got the notice today. See these seventeen yellow forwarding stickers on it? I think the post office was confused!”
Ah, but as crazy as dealing with the phone and the mail can be, it’s easier than having to go somewhere to take care of something. Never mind the fact that I have two kids and it takes an hour and an army just to get them fed, dressed, changed and loaded into carseats twice just to run a “quick” errand. Let me assure you, the world would end before I ever ran to the store for just a gallon of milk. If we leave this house, we come back with the Mothership LOADED. So it bugs me that I have to make a personal appearance to get water service and a trash can. Yes, water, that wet stuff that falls from the sky for free? Well, in order to get the filtered version from your tap it requires a face-to-face interview, copy of your deed, and a driver’s license. I’m sure they’ll want a blood sample before they turn over my BFI can.
But as much of a headache as all this has become, it is truly a blessing! I’m giving my girls (and myself) a home. I can honestly say, you never know what home is until you’ve lost yours. It goes so far beyond four walls! It’s sacred. I look forward to the days my girls and I will spend together transforming our new house into a safe, comfortable, and loving God-centered home!
Am I doing this right?
09 Aug 2011 Leave a Comment
in Blessed be the children, Family Matters
It’s the age-old question every parents ask themselves: Am I doing this right? Or am I setting my child up for a lifetime of therapy to cope with all my stupid parenting decisions? Since my child is already in therapy, I guess it shouldn’t matter much…but to me every choice I make for her, especially now, is so critical. I find myself wondering if I’m doing all that she needs me to do or if I’m pushing her too fast into something she’s not ready for yet.
We start preschool this week. She will be in class, away from me and everything she’s ever known, for 7 hours a day, 5 days a week. My stomach is in knots just thinking about it! She’s only three. Aren’t three year olds supposed to wake up with bed head, run around in their underwear half the day, and eat their boogers while they watch “The Wonderpets”? Shouldn’t they have unlimited access to Mommy when they get a boo-boo, have a scary dream at nap time, or just need to cuddle? I wonder if this is really the best thing for her so early. Then again, I wonder if I will ever be ready for her to be away from me that long. Probably not.
So, I’m sending her. School starts Wednesday. I get to be there with her the first day, to help orient her to the environment and get comfortable with her teachers and her classmates. Sounds like a fabulous idea! In theory. MY child will probably have a bigger meltdown the second day when she is faced with the reality that Mom doesn’t go to preschool with her every day, which we’d honestly BOTH prefer.
In my heart, I know this is best for her. She’s insanely bright and will thrive in a learning-enriched environment that provides structure and normalcy. If she stayed home with me everyday, she’s not going to get as much of that as she needs (refer back to the part about hanging out in your underwear half the day). I can’t provide the peer-to-peer social interaction she will get either without adopting twelve other three year olds and that just sounds like a nightmare. God Bless Preschool Teachers! So for her, I feel it’s in her best interest.
For me, I dread the adjustment period. The first few mornings when I drop her off and leave as both of us cry (me, silently… her, not so much). She’s my little buddy and I’m going to miss her while she’s away, wondering what she’s doing all day. I pray that, with time, she and I will adjust and this will suddenly feel like the right thing. For now, I will try to ease my anxiety by remembering that if it is just too hard, I can always homeschool. In homeschool, it doesn’t matter if you graduate in your underwear, right?
Meet my Grandma
02 Aug 2011 Leave a Comment
So I decided, I needed a break. Desperately. So desperately, I decided to drive all the way to Gurdon, Arkansas to spend the week with my grandma. Now, if you have never been to Gurdon, well, you’re not missing much. It’s one of those small towns, with one stop-light, a truck stop or two, and plenty of old folks. The population is roughly over 2,000 and that number is quickly dwindling as such-n-such passes away of cancer, heart disease, or what have you. My grandmother is like a walking obituary page and I swear she’s related to almost everyone in town, sometimes in two ways. Not kidding. You can save your jokes. She calls it a “double-cousin”, the rest if us would call it something else.
Let me introduce you to my grandmother, Doris Ann (pronounced in Arkaneese as “DarseAnn”). She is probably known as the town busy-body because she knows just about everything about everyone and wants you to meet them all so she can talk about them under her breath and behind their back as they walk away. This person just got out of jail, that person is divorced, this one is cheating on her husband, and so on.
Doris is a wealth of knowledge when it comes to all things medical as well. I honestly think she’s a borderline hypochondriac. Her life revolves around her medical ailments, her medications, doctor’s appointments, and surgeries. The last time I saw her she wanted me to add her physicians’ office numbers to her Fave-5, she calls them THAT often. The woman is going to cure herself to death! She called me as I was driving here so I could possibly diagnose her bladder infection because she couldn’t wait another hour. I wasn’t even through the door 15 minutes and she was offering to show me pictures of the inside of her colon and from her hernia repair. Grandma, there are just some parts of you I don’t care to see or even know you have! Thanks for offering, though, especially right as we are discussing what to have for dinner.
I’m glad she’s so concerned about her health. She really puts a lot of effort into staying healthy. For example, she refuses to drink the water in Gurdon because it’s too “hard.” What does that even mean, Grandma? Maybe it’s like gangsta-thuggin’ on her colon, I don’t know. I didn’t look at the pictures, remember? But what I do know is that this is the reason I have to load four or five milk crates of glass bottles the size of Hannah in the car every visit so we can fill them with natural spring water from Hot Springs in 102 degree heat. That’s what she has planned for us tomorrow.
In fact she’s planned out the entire trip. That’s why I never come here with an itinerary. I just show up and let her know what day we are leaving, which usually bugs her because if we “woulda stayed just one more day, then we coulda (insert random thing she’s been meaning to get done here).” Audible sigh of irritation from her, “oh, well. Maybe next time.”
As quirky as she is, I absolutely adore my grandma. I love the way she says Wal-Mark, instead of Wal-Mart. I love that she is allergic to all dairy products except ice cream. I love her homemade biscuits and gravy. I love that she and Hannah “watered” the flowers and came in soaking wet and giggling. I love that no matter what happens, she is there to love me unconditionally, never runs out of hugs, and is the first to tell me everything will be okay. I love my Grandma!
And I know she doesn’t have Internet or a computer, so if any of my relatives read this to her, I will cut you.
Working Mothers
26 Jul 2011 3 Comments
I hate it when people ask you whether you are a stay-at-home mom or a working mom. What kind if question is that, anyway? It’s like people feel they can categorize your mothering skills and priorities based on your answer. Otherwise, they would drop the “mom” part and just ask: “Do you have a job?” And what kind of retarded question would that be? Whose business is it whether I have a job or not. Are you going to volunteer to pay my light bill? Nobody asks a father whether he stays at home with his kids or works outside the home. They just ask him, “So, what do you do?” implying that, of course, he must have a job. If you ever want someone to look at you like you have three heads, tell them your husband is a stay-at-home dad and watch their eyeballs bulge and their eyebrows try to crawl backwards off their face as they say, “ohhh….reaaalllly? Hmmm…that’s…um…interesting!”
A mother who stays at home certainly works harder at her job than most who punch a clock. She’s up at the crack of dawn, preparing meals, changing diapers, cleaning bottles, and helping someone to get dressed, brush their teeth, or go potty. She’s somewhat similar to a nursing home attendant. She’s cried to, bit, kicked, slapped, yelled at, and may even have to vacuum as some little person physically clings to her leg, being drug along as she goes about her chores, demanding cartoons or a juice box. She’s something like a waitress and a nightclub bouncer rolled into one. She sacrifices every second of “me time” to meet the needs of her children, leaving her un-showered with no make-up, un-brushed teeth, and 3-day-old clothes. She’s quite possibly mistaken in the grocery store as a homeless person. The day drags on without a 15 minute break, a thirty-minute lunch, and very little adult interaction. There is no promotion, no vacation days, and no yearly evaluation. How many of us would take a paying job with this description? So if you say, you are a stay-at-home mom instead of a working mom, then aren’t you lying? You certainly aren’t giving yourself enough credit!
Then, there’s the working mom. It’s assumed the working mother doesn’t do all of the aforementioned tasks because she’s not home as many hours. Yet that is also untrue! She does all of these things, only she has to get them done in less time with children who are either extra-tired and whiney by the time she gets home or bouncing off the walls with so much excitement to see her that she is almost certain they could orbit the moon. The working mom hurriedly compacts her family time to accommodate getting multiple people dressed, fed, packed for the day and out the door so they can all arrive to daycare, school, and work on time. She’s like a drill sergeant in the morning! God forbid anybody lose a shoe. Once at work, she clocks in and spends the rest of her afternoon worrying about her kids, planning what she’s gonna make for dinner, and feeling guilty about how short she was with her kids in her morning rush. She questions why she even works at all when her paycheck barely covers childcare and wonders whether she just might be bi-polar based on her mood swings. After work, it’s off to pick up the kids, grab dinner to-go because it’s easier and quicker than having to cook anything and waste time cleaning up the mess, and corral everyone to do bath time, story time, and bed. Only then, can she pay bills, finish laundry, and unwind for the next day. Throw a demanding boss, unyielding work deadlines, or the guilt of having to rely on others “to raise her children” (as some…not me… would say), and you have a mess on your hands. So, I certainly don’t think working moms get the credit they deserve either.
Needless to say, I am irked by this question. My response is always: both. I am at home with them five days a week and work on weekends, so I get all the perks and burdens of both roles. And what I have learned is that finding balance is a never ending quest. Sacrifices will be made. I would like to be more involved at work, to join committees, or to take on more leadership. However, the trade-off will be less time with my children. That’s a sacrifice I’m unwilling to make. So, promotions and opportunities will come and go, my career and education remaining stagnant, in an effort to nourish and enrich my family life. I’ve struggled with that aspect of my life recently, worrying about how to perfectly balance career and family time as a single mom. But it’s time to lay that cross down. When I get to heaven, God won’t care if I stressed my way through a Master’s program instead if playing tag with my kids in the house. And He won’t care whether I made up my own children’s stories or wrote a best selling novel. What He will care about is whether I did it all for His Glory, and I find the easiest and most joyful way to Glorify the Lord is by taking care of these two beautiful girls He has blessed me with!
Praise the Lord for mothers!
Life Lessons
13 Jul 2011 Leave a Comment
I learned a very hard life lesson for mommies tonight: children thrive on routine and consistency. Actually, as a mother and a pediatric nurse, I was already well aware of that fact. However, I overestimated the resilience of my child and have been selfishly undermining her ability to see the world as a reliable and consistent place.
My heart aches over our loss. I may smile on the outside, laugh with friends, and blog about random nonsense, but I am shattered on the inside. I am assaulted with constant painful reminders of how drastically our lives have changed and how much I wish I could turn back time and do something, anything, different to prevent this from happening. I live out each day in my own worst nightmare. Trying to wrap my brain around what my oldest is going through drops me to my knees, begging for God’s mercy. The agony is unrelenting, the full extent of my grief silent, as I have to carry on and find strength for my children. Grieving is simply a luxury that I can’t afford right now.
My best coping strategy has been quite selfish. I hate being at our rental apartment because it doesn’t feel like home. If anything, it’s the antithesis of home. It feels empty, completely absent of anything that remotely resembles our life. There is not joy, warmth, nor memories. It’s just a place to hang our clothes, shower, and sleep. Occasionally.
I have become the master of excuses for why it would be easier to stay somewhere, anywhere, else rather than here and most nights we don’t come home. For this reason, my children are suffering. Katelynn hasn’t had a bath since Friday. Hannah needs fresh clothes that fit. Naptime is non-existent, their toys are scattered at houses all over Desoto county, and their bedtime changes every night. There is no set meal times, no snacks in the apartment, and no alone time with mommy. We live out of our car, bouncing from place to place, with no rhyme or reason, just trying to stay busy so I don’t have to hurt.
Hannah finally had the ultimate meltdown tonight, and I won’t rehash it, but it gave me a hard dose of reality. She needs me to get a grip. I’ve got to put my feelings aside and start focusing on what’s good for her. She is desperate for the return of her consistent routine so she feels safe and secure. She needs routine to trust and understand the world. ALL children do. Life for a child cannot be lived from a carseat. It is not one big string of playdates, shopping trips, and sleepovers.
I can’t do this alone. In fact, I may even meet resistance in my determination to do this for her. I have to prepare for the tantrums. We won’t get to spend time with family and friends as much as I would like. Sometimes, we are just going to need to stay at home and have family time. I have a curfew to stick to: 8 o’clock is bedtime. Our house. This is our new normal. This is what she can trust in and rely on. I can only pray for strength and understanding. It’s a hard lesson to learn but it is in the very best interest of my children and I will continue to walk through Hell for them if that is required of me.
Sisterhood
26 May 2011 Leave a Comment
When I first learned we were pregnant with our second child, I was thrilled. It took us a year to get pregnant with Hannah and almost as long to get pregnant with Katelynn. I desperately wanted Hannah to have that special connection that only comes from a sibling. And I quietly was hoping for another little girl because I knew first hand the special bond that forms between sisters. This post is in honor of my sister, Jessica, whom I love beyond words.
Sisters are excellent confidants. You can tell them all your deepest, most intimate feelings and they listen intently, drinking in every word. If you don’t feel like talking to her during a particular moment, don’t stress. She will surely search your room for your diary so she can find out all your treasured secrets. She won’t share them with a soul, unless they are embarrassing or you are together at a large family gathering, whichever comes first.
A girl who can’t find her favorite pair of shoes or her new purse surely has a sister. Sisterhood buys you unauthorized and unlimited access to your sister’s closet. However, it does not come with the promise of stain removal.
Having a sister is to blame for all the hideous, yet matching, dresses and jumpers you had to wear when you were little. They were just too cute for your mother to resist.
The ferocious sibling rivalry that comes along with sisterhood is the reason you always received the same toys at Christmas time, just different colors.
If you have ever drawn a line down the center of your bedroom with the threat of bodily harm to anyone who dared to cross, you have a sister. If you were smart, your side would include the closet full of clothes or the toy box. However, don’t make the mistake of leaving the doorway on her side of the room or you will have just put yourself at her mercy each time you want to enter or leave.
Sisters should never have to share a bathroom. It’s just a cruel joke your parents play on you when you’re teenagers.
A sister will steal your barbie doll, your make-up, and your car keys…but never your boyfriend. Actually, if she is a true sister, she will find your taste in boys somewhat disgusting, which she will insist on reminding you of that fact each time he calls. Loudly.
When your parents are heavy on your case, just point out all the things that are wrong with your sister. They will instantly become distracted.
Woe to the parents against whom sisters unite.
There is no pain for which a sister cannot provide comfort. A sister is a lifelong friend. She will always stand by you when the world is falling around you. She is there to offer hugs, a joke or two, and remind you that you need to return the shirt you borrowed from her three months ago.
I adore my sister. When we were children we would spend the afternoon playing school, fighting over play dough, sharing Barbie dolls, ratting on one another, and all the various joys of being siblings. We laughed together, cried together, and tried to kill each other on occasion. There were times when we hated each other and times we couldn’t live without each other. My sister and I will always remain best friends and there is an abundant love that exists between us that no one can tarnish. I love you, Jess! My prayer as a mother is that my own daughters will learn to love each other in the same fashion, forever friends.
