Sidewalk Lessons

We left church today and began a long walk back to the car. J held Cubby's hand while he slowly trudged up the sidewalk, I held the Bear's hand as his feet propelled him quickly forward in that spastic crazy toddler walk. He was noticing everything today.

A broken stick. "Broooken stick, broooken stick."

A large fire ant marching aimlessly in circles. " BUG BUG BUG!"

Old gum, embedded in the concrete. "Yucky fo!"

It took awhile to get to the car. As we crossed the street and reached the next sidewalk, I spotted a cricket, happily jumping up the path.

Jackpot.

"Look!" I said, "a cricket!"

The Bear shrieked with happiness. He crouched low to the sidewalk and started talking to the cricket, giving him a friendly greeting. They chatted for awhile. The cricket would hop and the Bear would follow. He had a good 90 seconds of uninterrupted joy while we waited for Cubby and J to cross the road.

We talked about the crickets back legs and how those springy joints are perfect for those long jumps. We admired his sleek hard shell and the bright yellow tracing around his face. I even managed to teach the Bear how to say "antenna."

Then Cubby arrived.

He was excited to see the cricket as well. He bent over for a closer look and with a happy gurgle, reached down and bludgeoned the cricket to death with his chubby baby finger.

The Bear and I looked on with horror. I managed to recover quickly and said, "Ok! Naptime for the cricket." I reached down and picked up his crumpled body and tossed him into the bushes.

The Bear looked doubtful but said in his sweet little voice, "Goodnight Cricket, I love you!"

RIP Sunday morning cricket. Know that you brought immense joy to a little two year old boy during your short lifespan, even if his baby brother ruthlessly murdered you seconds later. We salute you.

10 Things

Well, I did it. I managed to finish an entire week of household chores, child care, co-op accounting, and writing with success! This hasn't happened since February when I had my accident. It was still a hard week, my PTSD is still lurking around every corner and the after effects of the accident still plague me during the day, BUT......what a glorious BUT, I did it!!!! I managed to keep the house clean (spotlessly clean the way I like it) every single day, I stayed on top of the laundry and ironing, I took care of my kids and taught them things, I made tons of meals and didn't have to order out once, and I took care of my beautiful garden. This is a big deal for me. This is when the first smattering of color finally starts to break through the dark clouds and you think you might just see a rainbow in the next few minutes. I think its coming...my eyes are squinted and I think I may just see one in the next week or two.

Here are 10 snippets from our family of the past few weeks, some are funny and cute, others are just moments of complete grace that brought me joy.

1) The Bear is talking. Not baby talk, not cute first words, he is talking in complete sentences. This brings me both joy and unbelievable heartache. I would give anything to hear his sweet baby words one last time, but they are almost all gone now. He is chatting all the time. Reciting what groceries I hand him at the store, "taco seasoning, ricotta cheese, yogurt, blueberry juice" before depositing them in the cart for me. He wants to help carry things around the house. He loves to sweep the floor and wipe down the play table for me. He asks me, "more work?" and I can't believe his thoughtful kindness at such an early age. He gets its from his daddy, of that I have no doubt.

2) The Bear has manners. Let the sun shine down and the birds sing! This is Mommy's dream come true. Not going to lie, I am obsessed with raising gentlemen of the Mr. Darcy variety but with a splash of Mr. Bingley's congeniality. Without needing a command or request, the Bear will say, "yes please," "no thank you," and hold the garden gate open for me each time I pass, before closing it shut again. Hallelujah!

He is also singing songs, reciting pieces of the alphabet, counting forwards and backwards, reciting colors, I am truly amazed at how his mind has progressed in the past month. I am so excited for to begin our homeschooling this Autumn! We are going to have so much fun!

3) Cubby is on a mission to leave this earth. That is a horrible sentence I know, but just wait till I finish and you will understand. My goal with Cubby every day is to keep him alive. He climbs furniture with one objective in mind: jumping off the highest end or edge, preferably in the direction of something jagged or sharp. He likes to peel off socket protectors so he can stick things in the holes. He managed to scale three pieces of furniture in order to reach my counter top. He opened the car door while the car was in motion using his fat little toes. That he didn't undo his car seat restraints and try to parachute out the side is a miracle. He has managed to earn himself three shiners in seven weeks, along with countless cuts, scrapes and bruises. He also got a busted up bloody nose, in Sunday school of all places! I think our pediatrician suspects that I neglect him because every time we go for a check up he says, "you really gotta keep on eye on him, Mom, ok?"

3 continued) Cubby choked. Not on one cracker, not on two, he choked on seven crackers because he shoved them all into his mouth at once. Who chokes on seven crackers? I find that "constant supervision" is an understatement when it comes to my second born son. I need surveillance equipment, a safety net of the circus variety, compression bandages and if the electrical socket fascination continues, a defibrillator as well.

I am ordering a huge emergency first aid kit online this week. Not like the small box I kept in the Bear's diaper bag, this thing looks like a piece of luggage. Its huge! But for this kid, completely and totally necessary.

4) Cubby has sprouted four new teeth and is chit chatting all day long. From the standard "all done" type of chatter to the more sophisticated second born, "I got it," "look at that," and " I don't know, Momma." I am so proud of him. I love his sassy little smile and bubbly personality.

5) I felt our new little one move last night. A tiny flutter of movement just to let me know that I have 26 weeks before all hell breaks loose.

6) My husband. I will never be able to forget what he has done for us these past dark months of my life. The countless times he held me in his arms and prayed over me when I felt fear or intense pain are etched in my memory forever. He would rise at 5AM to work on his research, then get the boys started by changing them and feeding them, then he would leave for a grueling day at school although he would return on a moment's notice if I needed him. At night he would return for dinner, spend time with his sons and put them to bed, then he would clean the house for me on most days before going back to his office for more research until exhaustion beckoned him to bed. This happened more often than not, especially in the first two months after the accident. I never heard him complain. Not once. He showed his love for me every day in the kindest acts. He poured grace on me and prayed for me when I didn't have the strength to. He made a solemn vow to me, years ago, then demonstrated that he is a man of his word in every conceivable way. I want to weep when I think of what he endured out of love for this family. I praise God for our marriage and I rejoice for every day we share together on this soil.

7) ALL of my gladiolus bloomed. It was my first year planting bulbs and the fact that they all bloomed meant a lot to me. I felt such a sense of accomplishment every time I looked out my window towards the garden and saw those tall spears of vibrant color standing at attention.

8) Our neighbors are guajiros. I really like them. As is standard practice of the guajiro code, a neighbor can not give you anything without something from your home being given in return. For example: They gave us tomatoes from their garden so I gave them a fresh loaf of spiced bread that I had baked that afternoon, which made them give us a huge bunch of plantains, which made me reciprocate with a papaya. This happened in the span of about one hour and forty-five minutes and most likely would have continued but it grew dark out.

9) We have had two enormous electrical storms complete with torrential downpours in the past two weeks. This makes me happy. This makes the trees happy. In particular: the flamboyan trees and the mango trees. Big juicy mangos are on the forecast for later this sumer, get excited!

10) Lastly, our dog is still a diva. He also thinks he is married to my husband and that I am, in fact, the family dog. I am not amused.

discipline

The word discipline has been uttered with great frequency around the bungalow these days. I'm certain most houses with one or more toddlers become quite familiar with the term. We've been mulling it over for awhile. Discipline, not merely as a code of conduct that we expect our boys to follow, but as a standard for our family as a whole.

I used to hate the word discipline. It always reminded me of a much dreaded substitute teacher at my old high school. She sounded like Bill Clinton when she spoke and she had a stern no nonsense eye that always seemed to know our every move. Discipline rooted in rules and wicked substitute teachers always feels like a prison. But over the years I've come to recognize discipline as the most freeing practice when understood as an art of living in the Spirit. Instead of trapping or stifling me, discipline has led me down a broader path of joy! As a mother, I want that same joy and freedom for my boys. Disciplines of the home are needed before they are old enough to completely grasp disciplines of the spirit, or so I assumed. What a discredit to my children. I'll not start the low expectation game this early in life. I know they can learn discipline, the wonderfully freeing kind, at any age.

I decided long ago that I would not ask anything of my boys that I do not do myself. How can I demand polite and respectful manners from my sons if I do not employ them in my own daily life? The last few weeks I have been taking an inventory of my life. What do I place value in? What is truly important to me? Where are my failings as a wife, mother, woman of faith? Where are my successes and why are they successes and not failures? I've mentioned before that I am grateful to be learning alongside my children. I wish to be vulnerable with them and let them see work through problems as an adult. Discipline. It's something everyone at the bungalow needs.

I've started with my time. In November, I'll become the mother of three kids under the age of three. Time is of the essence. Not merely so that I can complete my daily list of tasks which include: cleaning, cooking, writing, bathing, playing, and in general, keeping small people alive. But savoring my time with them. Enjoy those small moments that are gone too soon.

I want the boys (and whoever else is on the way) to have an appreciation for time and time well spent. The Bear is already beginning to grasp the concept of "work," although in its most basic sense. He likes to "work" along side me. I love that he is placing value on working with his hands already. He also knows that Mommy loves reading her Bible. He knows and speaks the name of Jesus. I want the kids to see the importance of Christ in my life and in Js. But reading and walking in scripture are tough disciplines, ones that I am always working hard at. We are starting to read aloud stories from the Bear's Children's Bible. Its a truly wondrous time, to watch him discover the Bible and witness the understanding that Jesus loves him always. I love that though he is so small, he is already learning the value of time management and the ever important discernment of which activities add value to his life.

Cubby and I are working on the discipline of patience together. Its tough. He is only 1 and I have been impatient for over a quarter of a century. I'd say we are about neck and neck as far as progress goes. Tending a garden has helped, it is a discipline of patience and deliberate action. Once you make a decision with a garden, its hard to turn back from that. A lot of patience and careful thinking need to go into it first. Its great practice for parenting. As soon as Cubby can grasp a few more basic concepts he'll be tending his own little garden plot. In fact, every one of my children will always have a small bit of earth to claim responsibility for. We'll see how the next few years of life unveil as Cubby and I learn this tough discipline together with our little gardens.

My greatest discipline is learning to pray. I've prayed my whole life. But only recently have a I learned the true meaning of prayer and it has forever changed my perspective as a Christian. This partially occurred during my study of the book of John this year at Bible Study Fellowship. I love how very clear Jesus is with us and his disciples concerning how we are to walk and what his role as the Son of God is. I was amazed when I read John 17 and saw the words Jesus spoke in prayer to his Father for himself, for his disciples, and for all future believers.

I tend to think a lot about what kind of woman I want to be in my old age. But as J reminded me last night on our date night, we really should always think about what kind of man or woman we want to be in our 20s, 3os, 40s, etc. And so I am taking all this inventory and hoping that in the end I can walk away with five or six solid disciplines that I can work on as I head into the last half of my 20s. Not learning a new language or how to paint a mural, but five or six disciplines, be they character or spiritual, that will teach me to be a better wife, mother, woman of faith. Hopefully it will in turn, cultivate a love of discipline in my own children. When its all said and done, I really believe that discipline rooted in God's love gives my family the greatest freedom could we will ever experience.

One for the Baby Book

Our smallest son had surgery today. A very minor, elective surgery to remove a mass in his neck that had been growing since his birth. It formed while he was still curled up in my womb. A bit of residual cartilage from his trachea that never reabsorbed into his body.

We scheduled our 6:30 AM hospital arrival carefully. Cubby is a beast in the morning. Literally. He eats so much food and drinks so much juice/milk/water that we knew the whole fasting thing would be poorly received by him. We transitioned quickly, from the house to the car, from the car to the patient access center. Dozens of other families waited in the access center for various medical procedures, tests and surgeries. Cubby sat quietly on his father's lap, clutching his fluffy Elmo doll and looking around the room. He is still sporting quite the shiner under his right eye, it has faded down to a sickly yellow color. I love how rascally it makes him look.

After check in we went to the pre-op area. Its strange going into that room, your body is acutely aware that in less than an hour your child will be brought under anesthesia and cut open by a surgeon you have only met once in your life. My senses felt heightened this morning when we walked in there, I was fixated on Cubby. But there was no missing the other children in the room. A few of the kids lay still on their beds, their illnesses quite obvious. One little girl in particular waited in the partition next to Cubby. She was directly across from the entrance door and whoever entered would look up and find themselves greeted by a startling sight. This little girl looked to be about 5 or 6 years old, with beautiful long brown hair and the most deformed face I have ever personally seen in my life. I felt slugged in the gut. Her parents knew everyone on staff and everyone on staff knew them. Relationships that had obviously been formed at her birth and had lasted for many many years and through various surgeries. We sat waiting for Cubby's sedative for a good while. I couldn't stop thinking about the face on the other side of the curtain. What a strange childhood, growing up in hospitals and having countless surgeries. The beauty of her spirit seemed bolder to me than her deformities. You could tell just by being near her. You could just imagine the face she could have been born with in a perfect world, smiling and laughing and most likely covered in ice cream. I can't imagine that I will ever forget her face or the smiles of her parents. I didn't want to sit there and mull over some tremendous life lesson or example from them, it felt wrong to do so. I simply felt great respect for her life and for the love her parents so plainly showered on her. Lives so very different from ours, separated by a thin curtain.

Cubby's surgery lasted under half an hour. He came out of the PACU fast asleep and looking like an angel from a Victorian Trading Company catalogue. He slept for another hour in a smaller recovery room . Under nurses orders, we finally had to jostle him awake.

He looked a bit like he'd been experimenting with mushrooms. Poor kid couldn't focus his eyes for some time and when I finally managed to sit him up, he kept leaning the back of his head into my hand and falling asleep. The nurse brought over an adult sized cup of juice with a large straw as Cubby came to grips with the reality of his universe.

"DRINK IT S L O W L Y," she commanded with a gruff.

I should note here that Cubby usually pounds his drinks down in less than two minutes. He throws his head back and chugs until everything is gone.

I gave her a smile and J gently held the straw to Cubby's lips so that he could drink. His first sips made him cough and shudder. His throat must have still felt raw from the breathing tube. He finished the entire drink in about five minutes. Which for Cubby...is pretty slow.

I assumed that he would need to drink more juice and so I made my way back up to the nurses station, empty cup in had, and asked if my son should get a refill of juice or water.

3 pairs of eyes bugged out at me.

"HE DRANK IT ALL??? ALREADY???"

"Um, yes. Is that a problem? You gave us a full cup so we assumed..."

" I JUST GAVE IT TO YOU!"

"well, my son usually drinks fast..."

"HE IS GOING TO VOMIT."

"ok"

He didn't vomit. Slugger is a champ." Go big or go home," as J always says to him.

A few minutes later the old dragon walked back to our side of the recovery room and gave him the once over. She seemed satisfied enough. We waited for the IV to be taken out, dressed him into his pajamas again and headed home.

I feel exhausted. I don't know how some parents can go to the hospital day after day for so long. I know why they go, but I wonder if God supplies moments of super human strength to get them through the day.

We are blessed to be home with Cubby. Rejoicing that we had this mass removed before any infection or serious growth took place and praising God that all went well for him. He is sleeping perfectly in his little crib right now, his head resting on his big brother's pillow.

Welcome May

No maypole in sight down here, but it was still a lovely May Day. Cubby has become quite adept in the art of furniture scaling. He celebrated May Day by leaping off of furniture and eating his body weight in biscuits. Fortunately, he has only encountered a few falls. At the moment he is eating his dessert and looking quite the little rascal, covered in chocolate and sporting a rather hideous purple bruise on his left cheek, a small trophy courtesy of his brother's bed frame. Cubby has a lot of gumption and spunk. He is a firecracker of personality. During the next ten or twelve years I am expecting quite a lot of zingers and witty one-liners from this one.

The Bear's May Day was spent in supreme concentration over his collection of fifteen trains cars. He is incredibly specific about their order, jobs and purposes. Silly Mommy can't tell the difference between a steam engine and a diesel, not too mention boilers, pistons, etc. The Bear sweetly condescends to my ignorant level so that we can play together. I love hearing his soft voice throughout the day, "Hi diesel," "Bye trains, see you later," and my favorite, "I love you Mama." I've been singing a lot of old songs to the Bear these past few weeks. Most are from the 30s and 40s, some are old English or Scottish tunes, obscure and random but I really enjoy them. He does too! He loves the "Bumblebee song" and "The Banks of Lock Lomond." We'll sing an old English tune tonight and I'll show him a few pictures of children dancing around a maypole in the English countryside. I can already picture his blue eyes scanning the details with great curiosity.

I'm relieved that May is here. I'm thankful for the distance and hopeful that summer will only bring healing and peace for me and my family.

Happy May Day!