Nest to Nest

Bella's Laugh

2012-02-01T11:04:00.000-08:00

If you have met my mother, than you have met her laughter.

It follows her everywhere she goes like a cloud of iridescent bubbles, bursting joyful noise.

Her laugh is loud and free.

Its one of her secret weapons. Something she pours out over a room to bring a feeling of acceptance and love. I've witnessed that laughter wring smiles from the shyest high school girls. Even the cantankerous old man everyone else is afraid to approach, can't resist cracking a leathery smile after hearing her laugh.

Mom's laughter is a bond maker and barrier breaker.

My Dad teases her about it. Rolling his eyes when we hear it crashing in from the next room.

Asking her if that cackling chicken in her throat will ever lay its egg.

She sends him a saucy look and teases him for stealing his jokes from "I Love Lucy."

He retorts.

The laugh is unleashed again.

Yesterday, I picked the boys up from her house. They were all smiles and skipping steps as they left. She had baked them four loaves of their favorite treat in the world. "Special Pan," now amended as the Bear is four years old to "A Kind of Pumpkin Bread." This pumpkin bread really is heavenly. Rich texture, perfect crumb, delicious soul soothing smell. They LOVE this stuff and inhale it at an alarming rate. Those four loaves will last about two days at our house.

As we drove home I asked the boys, "What did Bella make for you today?"

The Bear responded, "Special Pan that is a Kind of Pumpkin Bread! She made it because she WUVS us very much!"

"She does?" I ask, catching his blue eyes in the rear view mirror, "how do you know she loves you?"

The response nearly made me run off the road.

"Because when Bella hugs me, she laughs in my ear and in my hair like this...."

He then proceeded to let out a very long very loud honk. Part goose, part tug boat, part dump truck, lasting about twenty five seconds.

I laughed, "What does that mean?"

"It means," he began with carefully articulated patience, "its the kind of waf (laugh) that says I WUV YOU VERY MUCH."

I teared up.

"You are so very right. Bella's laugh does mean, I love you."

Cubs had been quiet during this exchange, content to wolf down his special pan, but the long honking noise had drawn his attention.

"That was so funny," Cubs sighed, "Bella's laugh makes me so happy."

"Me too" agreed the Bear. Then we heard him say softly, "Its the bestest way to hear 'I love you' in the whole wide world."

YES!!!

2012-01-15T17:57:00.001-08:00

I get really tired of saying "no."

This is the age where "no" can be a matter of life and death. Health and serious injury. Quick clean up and major disaster zone.

Toddlers need the word "no."

They really really really need boundaries.

Really.

And yet...I am really really really not a fan of "no."

When it comes to safety "no" is easy.

When the only reason I say "no" is because "yes" means more work for me....

well....

That is when I try my best to say "no thanks" to "no" and give my boys the big fat YES they have been longing for.

Especially when a certain almost three year old boy with twinkly blue eyes and a dynamite personality has endured a week of intense discipline to keep that stubborn defiance of his in check.

Today I did my best to say YES whenever possible, healthy, and safe, to my Cubby.

Yes to three green "Um-in Ums" before church (M&Ms).

Yes to the "pink wee-pop" after church (fruit popsicle).

Yes to running.

Yes to jumping on the couch.

Yes to building a fort.

Yes to building that million pieces tool bench that has been sitting in its box since Christmas....building it at the most inconvenient moment, of course.

Yes to mud.

Yes to twenty minutes in the playground before church.

Yes to spinning in circles till he might throw up.

Yes to the zipline.

Yes to running all over church.

My favorite bunch of "YES" happened after naptime...

Cubby loves going on special solo adventures with me. And with J for that matter. As a middle kid, its one of those special things we try and do with him from time to time so he can know that we love HIM. Even if he can't name a zillion dinosaurs by their scientific name, even if he didn't take his first steps yesterday...he is really great just the way he is. We are proud of him. And we need his help on our special adventures.

The adventure today?

Publix.

Our local grocery store.

I should explain that Publix is heaven for Cubby.

Publix is where they have all the food.

The treats, sprinkles, bananas, chocolate milk, purple yogurt, grapes, bacon, baking supplies.

My little sous-chef loves to accompany me to the store and help find ingredients for our cooking time...which happens just about every day at 5pm.

Today we spiced it up a little. :)

I made my list on a large piece of red construction paper. I listed the mundane things on one side, and then drew a treasure map with pictures of his favorite foods on the other side.

Cubs got to be a pirate and scour the store for the food on his map.

He had the sneers, growls and ARRGGS down pat.

He also said "hello" to everyone that passed by.

He also told me about his dreams.

Here is an example:

"Mom, I had a dream that I had a bad day and then you made me happy when you bought me the biggest ice cream in the world."

He gave me a slight shrug, batted his lashes, and curved those lips into a sneaky smile.

We made our way to the store, giggling and chatting, dropping "ARRRGGGS" every time we found an item on the map.

He let me know that string cheese should only be called "cheese bananas" because they are actually bananas made of cheese.

Cubs was glowing with happiness.

I let him pay at the register.

I let him try and sign my name on the credit card machine.

I NEVER let him do that.

His eyes widened, his legs kicked back and forth, a shiver of excitement shot up his back and burst out of his mouth with a loud squeal and then a very cute giggle.

Then the cherry on top....

His first ever Rice Krispies Treat as we drove home.

We said YES to lots of other things when we got home.

Yes to grapes instead of broccoli at dinner.

Yes to extra play time after dinner and before bath time.

Yes to extra playtime after bathtime and before bed time.

Yes to Dr. Suess stories on the CD player as he drifted off to sleep.

Have I ever mentioned on this blog, that Cubs refuses to be called anything but his own name?

If we call him "Captian Cubby" he will respond, "I am not a Captain! I'm just a boy!"

If we say, "Cubby is cranky" he will respond, "I am not cranky! I'm just a boy!"

Or even, "Cubby is the strongest tallest mightiest superhero ever," he will pause for a moment, consider the honor, and then turn it down with a quick shake of his head and a little frown, "I am not all those things, I am just a boy!"

Today as we made our way through the parking lot with all the groceries, we noticed the setting sun against the trees.

"What happens when the sun goes to sleep?" I ask.

"Oh Mom, the moon comes out to play!" He sighs, "but I don't want to go to bed after bathtime!" He looks up at me, luminous eyes and thick long lashes, "I can just be with you forever never."

"Cubs, you can be very convincing you know that?" I say with a smile.

He smiles back.

He knows he wrangled another "yes."

But he remembers what he must say and so responds...

"I AM NOT CONVINCERS. I AM JUST A BOY NOW!"

The Story

2012-01-14T06:42:00.000-08:00

The story has changed.

It is no longer what it once was.

Years ago, whenever someone approached, hands twisted together, eyes filled with pity and embaressment, their lips asking, "Can you share The Story?" I knew precisely what they were asking for. Not a love story. Not a birth story. They wanted to hear the painful, soul altering story... the one I could never ever forget.

You see, The Story had been repeated and repeated and repeated for months on end. Recited like a grocery list for detectives, for police officers, for therapists, for pastors, for questioning friends and family, for social workers, for professors, for the Dean of Students, for the county judge.

Over and over again.

Engraining itself into the very strands of my DNA. Recited as if it were part of my identity, a new sort of social security number to be given at each new appointment.

My name, age, address, phone number.

Check the box that applies.

Victim of Sexual Assault.

Please describe:

Repeat The Story.

How odd that I did not notice when The Story changed?

Somehow the details of assaulted flesh and soul started to become less important.

No need to describe how he broke into the apartment.

No need to share my feelings of fear or to describe the sensation of feeling your limbs filled with lead, unable to move, unable to fight. The terrible sickness that follows being drugged against your will.

The intense shame of opening your mouth to speak the words of what occurred for the very first time.

That long moment in the shower, hours later, when I contemplated the razor in my hands. Wondered if I dragged it across my face, if I altered it forever, would I find any relief in that?

All of those ugly details began slipping away.

Words tumbling off the page.

Till all that remained was the initial box to be checked. Victim of Sexual Assualt. This will never be unchecked. And yet, The Story has changed.

No longer fear and agony, no longer hopelessness and anger.

Now it begins, "I was sexually assulted by a friend in college...and THEN...."

Now The Story tells of a body rebuilt, of a mind renewed, of a heart humbled before God.

Now The Story is one that I will proudly tell my sons. No shame involved. One child of God to another.

The scars are now separate from The Story.

Not because of any herculean effort on my part, not out of miraculous overnight healing.

The Story changed over the course of a thousand days. Because He loved me enough to draw close to me each one of those days. A long labor of love.

He drew near.

I reached out.

And now The Story is less about me and more about Him. As it should be.

One of the first lessons I learned after the assault was one I would cling to for years.

No matter what happens to me, it is never bigger than what Jesus did on the cross for me.

Over time, the lesson evolved into the overreaching theme of the entire story.

Thank you Lord for turning The Story into another kind of story all together.

I no longer dread that moment, years away yet always on my mind. In that future afternoon of filtered sunlight in a blue room scattered with race cars and knick knacks, perched on the edge of a bunk bed, looking into the eyes of my sons and sharing The Story. Letting them see what happens when men give in to their selfish desires and choose evil over self control is not even a tenth of the greater lesson.

Listen my sons to what the Lord has done for me....

Wise Men

2011-12-17T10:01:00.000-08:00

Any one else feeling overwhelmed about imparting the meaning of Christmas to their little ones, lately? Everywhere I go, it seems that the majority of the world is pulling for the typical consumer/santa binge with another, smaller percent going in the extreme opposite direction towards self righteous grinchdom. My boys are understanding more and more this year and once November rolled around, I knew it was time to really think about how Christmas would go down at our house.

A tree? Definitely. Could not imagine Christmas without one. Our boys really loved going out for the tree this year. For you northerners, this means driving to a parking lot where we haul a small tree out from under the big tent for an astronomical fee. All though this year, we hit the discount jackpot with our tree! It was also located a mere four blocks from our house AND they were selling orchids and avocados on the side. So we may not have roamed the hills straining our frozen corneas in search of the perfect tree to saw down and drag home on a sleigh....but there were avocados. So we bought ourselves a little tree for trimming and had a lovely night decorating together. Toddler Translation: J and I squabbled over how much to trim the tree, baby got tangled in the lights, the netting the tree was wrapped in also become tangled in the lights, and the boys helped hang ornaments for 10 minutes before leaving me with the rest)

My craft and project table has been overflowing this year (insert dry thank you to Pinterest) but I really wanted to piece together this lovely skirt I found. I am leaving it plain this year and may add some trim next year. The boys love seeing the Nativity toile print beneath their Little People Nativity set.

Our nativity set never quite looks like a nativity. Not the serene pastoral scene of peace and holiness I see in most nativity photos. Our nativity often has a small parking lot for matchbox cars off to the side. The occasional brontosaurus leering down at the wise men. Camels and sheep are typically picked off one by one as the weeks go by, abandoned in some odd corner of the house until the January cleaning rolls around. Mary and the angel pushed off to the side, useless females with no role in the ever important game of, "Baby Jesus gets Rescued by Diego and the Okapi Brothers."

And then comes Advent. Where the main bulk of opportunity for teaching comes in. My goals this year were simple. 1) History of Why 2)Cement Tradition 3) Age Appropriate 4) Less Stress and above all 5) Know Jesus.

Every Sunday we cement tradition by lighting our advent candle and singing hymns with the boys after dinner. No long devotional for them quite yet. Just the memory of flickering lights and warm voices. A warm reassurance of joyful anticipation.

Age appropriate books are in stock by the tree. These are my top favorites this year...leading the pack is Humphrey's First Christmas followed closely by Song of the Stars. If your children are animal lovers, Song of the Stars is beautifully illustrated and follows creation's celebration of the birth of Christ.

The Advent Book is my less stress. I can't say enough about it! An Advent countdown with 25 doors, each door opening to a written part of the bible. No longer than 3 or 4 sentences. This is something I can do quickly at any time of the day. We alternate who gets to open a door on which day and the boys crane their necks in for a better look at what lays behind each door.

Written near Chicago, IL, this book also has a few special touches near to our hearts like the Frank Lloyd Wright door pictured on the left. :)

See that angel?

Next comes the History of Why. I picked up two Jesse tree books, one that works now and one that will work later, for my boys. Every day, I sit and read them a piece of the story that came before Jesus. This exercise has been a tangible, practical way of helping them see that the Bible isn't just a book of disjointed fairytales, but one long lineage of truth.

We end our daily advent with our magnetic advent calender by Kurt Addler. The boys are big fans of opening a new door each day to find the magnet inside. They also get to build and recreate the story, which is a plus!

Finally, the ornament corresponding to the Jesse tree lesson is placed on our tree. And we see the pieces falling together to form the why behind all the celebration. Are my toddlers suddenly transformed into little paragons of Christmas virtue and infinite knowledge? No. Some days they listen, some days they don't. But every day, they remember that Mommy opened the bible and read to them. Every day they remember that we bowed out heads and thanked Jesus for coming to this earth for our sake. It has become a cemented tradition with a clear WHY behind it.

Now back to the fat guy in the suit. Has Santa fallen into "He Who Shall Not Be Named" status? Not exactly. He can live in their imaginations like Rudolph or Frosty, just another storybook character we can enjoy. There is neither demonizing nor glorifying. In short, we just don't really talk about him. We spend all of our time talking about the birth of Jesus, what his birth means for us, his birthday and how we plan to celebrate it. Does this mean I will scream like a crazy woman and rip down images of Santa, as witnessed last year, when I go shopping? Nope. Santa is just Santa. Not the hero of Christmas but not someone I want to vilify either. And yes, last year at my local Target, I saw a long haired, little house on the prairie garbed woman ripping down pictures of Santa and announcing to everyone around her that they were going to hell. Ummm, clean up in the Fruit Loops aisle please!

This afternoon we are baking cookies for delivery to the neighbors. Its part of our giving project. This last week before Christmas we are focusing on serving others as our birthday gift to Jesus. Remember the goals? No stress, age appropriate and all that? I thought it would be tough to find ways to give this coming week. They are preschoolers and I can't exactly haul them all to the nearest soup kitchen. Yet, we have found small ways of accomplishing the giving for each day. Taking care of God's creation by tending our plants outside. Taking care of neighbors with a plate of cookies to make them smile. Visiting great grandparents and helping them cook or clean. Small things that repeat to my little men, "Serve the Lord always. The Lord will use you. Show God's love to others." and trains them to ask the question, "What would he have me do today to draw me closer to himself?"

Or as the Christmas banner in their room proclaims...

Merry Christmas :)

book nook

2011-11-11T12:57:00.000-08:00

So that book nook project from over the summer? Almost done!!

Finished the book mobiles with a few books from Salvation Army.....

Finished the yarn letters, which were insanely easy and we LOVE how they look....

Finished the tapestry hanging inside the closet. Picked out a nice blue map of the world.

Ended with a little One Fish Two fish wall art.

Last to go in are two red sack hanging chairs. Can't wait to finish off this project for my little guys. :)

I am about 80% done with my DIY list for this year which make me happy. I could stop now and feel good about everything the boys and I were able to accomplish. But the table fort awaits... and that one is too cool to pass up. I'll be writing about that one in my upcoming christmas post!

To Give to the Light

2011-11-02T20:52:00.000-07:00

I vividly remember this last, long labor. The other two have dimmed in my memory, but not this one. Not this bone wrenching, spirit draining labor of many days. Seventy seven hours. I am not likely to forget a single one. The intermittent moments of hope and frustration. That one hour of complete and utter, Anne Shirley depths of despair. When I growled out the words, "Just get me to a hospital and give me a c-section" to my husband, 62 hours into the whole ordeal. His wonderful face aggravating me to no end when he looked at me with sympathy and pity. His kind, gentle response, "Sweetheart. You hate hospitals. You hate c-sections. This is not what you want. You are just exhausted, poor baby."

I wanted to kiss him.

I wanted to punch him in the eye.

I wanted him to find a way to get that baby out of me.

We were in my haven. My place of peace and rest. My haven and veil of hope. My little garden, bordered by the white picket fence he built for me, divided by the brick pathway he laid out for me. Visible evidence of our love story surrounding us. Yet the harsh reality of enduring steady, strong contractions every 9 minutes for 60 plus hours at 6cm blurred the testimony and urged the impulse to take something apart.

I attacked the ground. Pulled weeds, ripped roots, dug out rocks. I split a fingernail and scratched up my knees. My stomach was huge, brushing the ground each time I bent over.

Sweat began to trickle down my face and back. I felt drenched. A large contraction tore through me at one point and I remember gritting my teeth and bearing down into the soil. The pain radiating out from my fingers and charging the ground around me.

I wanted heavy stones and rough ground. I wanted to walk one hundred miles. I needed to break myself free.

There comes a point in marathon labor when you start feeling trapped. Wedged in a place of no progress. Suspended in a very real nightmare that you could potentially remain pregnant and in labor, forever.

He stood there beside me. Working quietly, supporting me despite my best effort to force him into abandoning me. The blue sky above us, the raked and ravaged earth beneath us, the sleep deprived tension suspended between his body and my own traitorous one.

Yes, traitor.

I felt a very real anger with my own body. Mutiny. Sheer mutiny. Why was this body not working, doing what it was created to do?

I needed to rip something else out of the ground...

But I had pulled all the weeds and worked all the soil and the only task that remained was the planting. Not a conducive task for anger. It just doesn't work. Angry planting? No, it does not fit. Angry pulling, yes. There is a sense of defeat, failure, finality, something is no longer functioning or working and it must be ripped out to the last root.

But now all I could do was plant.

Dig burrows into the moist, warm earth. Create new space, delve and fashion a new stronghold, an exercise with no room for darkness. With each drop of tender young root into black soil, every unfurling leaf of newborn green, two important things began to happen...

The frustration began to leave my body and the contractions increased in strength and decreased in spacing.

I stumbled into the house some twenty minutes later. Out of breath and feeling dizzy.

The hours continued to pass, the labor intensified. My husband never left my side. Not when the pain threatened to split my back in half. Not when nausea wrenched through me for an entire half hour. He stayed with me, holding my hair. Quietly reading out loud the scripture I had selected weeks before. Dropping ancient words of grace on my body.

He created a safe space for me. Warming the water for our birthing tub. He brought out the cross he made for our wedding ceremony, the same cross we have used for all our sons baptisms, and placed it on our coffee table along with a few candles. He dimmed the lights. He entered the water with me and stayed by my side. He came up behind me as I gave birth to our son, our arms entwined together.

I remember the stillness of baby's birth. Half wonder and half exhaustion led me to a place of deep peace and quiet.

Baby emerged. Small, tiny boy. Slippery miracle of breath and tissue and blood and sinew.

All mine.

And his.

And His.

No wonder they say " dar a luz", to give to the light. You were blinding brilliance in the midst of darkness.

I have often wondered throughout this past year, over the memory of this very long labor. The imprint of suspended pain, the darkness of losing hope, the release of anger, the surrender of body, the deep deep peace and quiet. How much he taught me before he even drew breath.

My joy. My deep deep joy over you, small one. You were knit in my most secret place. A wonder to behold and be held. I love you to the depth and breadth of all I know love to be. And I rejoice at knowing that all of my love does not even come close to the love HE bears for you.

"May your father and mother rejoice! May the one who gave you birth be joyful!" Proverbs 23:25

Happy Birthday, sweet boy.

Trick or Treat or Trick

2011-11-01T08:14:00.000-07:00

I spent weeks sewing up costumes for the boys. The Bear had a spot on Woody costume, babe's Rex costume was also quite adorable. Cubs topped them all with a tech-savvy rendition of Buzz Lightyear. Two days before halloween, the Bear decided that Woody would not do. He cried, he sniffed, he whined. I made him try on the costume to make sure the fit was right. When I slipped the cowhide vest over his shoulders, he stroked the fur and said quite happily, "OH, Mom. You guessed my secret wish to be Bongo from One hunner and One Dalma-tations."

Sigh.

What else could I do? Bongo from One hunner and One Dalma-tations? It was just too cute to ignore. So I worked day and night, whipping up a new Pongo costume from cow print fabric. He loved it and went around talking about "Bongo" with a twinkle in his eyes.

Halloween morning I was putting the finishing touches on babe's costumes when Cubs choked on a pre-trick or treat lollipop and hurled all over the baby's freshly sewn Rex outfit.

Ugh.

No way was I going to sew something new. Sorry, baby. My mom saved the day with a quick Target run. One monster outfit later, I assured baby's older brothers that he was in fact "The Backson" from the new Winnie-the-Pooh movie. They were satisfied. Baby looked delicious. Problem solved.

Cubs slipped into his Buzz Lightyear costume and glowed with pride. Each time he would press the button on his sleeve, prompting his wings to pop out from their jet pack and light up, Cubs' face would light up too. He would check one side and then the other, looking over his shoulders with a cheeky smile and a smug look. He was down right vain about the whole thing. He loved it. And all the laughter and smiles we received from him last night made every moment of sewing worth it.

We headed out to my grandmother's house for some trick or treating in her neighborhood. This band of houses has the distinction of being one of the few communities left in Miami that actually stay at home, eager to welcome dozens of kids with candy, spooks and laughter. My mom, aunt and uncle were the first generation to make the rounds. My sister and I followed. Now, my little boys get to share in the halloween fun of this old school neighborhood.

I must share, however, that my older boys behaved like a pair of seasoned con artists last night. All the adults gathered on the sidewalk were cracking up as we watched these two tiny little boys march up the sidewalk and bang on doors. I had to keep reminding them not to shout "Open your door!!!" but rather "Trick or Treat!" Once the door opened, people usually shifted their candy bowl to one side and went down on one knee to get a closer looks at my pint sized cuties. It helped that the moment the door opened, the Bear would attack at full volume...

"Hi, I'm Bongo! And this is my friend Buzz Lightyear. Do you like coatis? How about sifaka lemurs or maybe a blue tongued skink or a three toed sloth? How about an oxpecker? An oxpecker is a symbiotic animal. Hey!! What about an okapi? Or maybe you like an anteater? They eat ants with their long long tongues. Look at my tongue...its long too..."

You get the picture. The Bear had their complete and total attention as he launched into his long speeches about animals, halloween, whatever dog was nearby, anything. These homeowners were enchanted.

Entranced.

Distracted.

Definitely not paying attention....

to the silent brother. The one in the Buzz Lightyear get up.

As his big brother chatted away to the homeowners left, Buzz would sweep in on the right side and started manhandling the candy. Yup, he would help himself to at least four or five handfuls of candy while his brother chatted away.

The kicker is that once the homeowner straightened up, they'd look down and see poor little Buzz standing all alone and give him an extra piece of candy.

Cubs' bag broke after just a few houses and after we exchanged for different bags, his was so full I had to pour some of his candy into the Bear's bag.

Thirty minutes into the excursion, the Bear started letting us know he'd had enough.

"My weg hurts."

"Oh Mom, I am so sleepy! (yawn)"

"Uh-oh, its getting dark."

and then flat out...

"Let's just go back to Abi's house now, ok Mom?"

At one point someone asked, "Sweetheart, are you ready to go home now?" The Bear sniffed and said, "Yeah" with a sweet little sigh.

"I'm NOT!!!" piped up Cubs, throwing his two cents before continuing down the street with a skip in his step.

This kid could have walked all night.

Halloween is a holiday he can get on board with. Costumes and candy? Sign him up! He loved it!

Today and Yesterday

2011-10-13T20:22:00.000-07:00

I vividly remember her introduction to our class. We were the first class in the newly built 6th grade wing. The new students dutifully shuffled forward and stood in a line.

Hi my name is________

When I grow up I want to be _____________

The assigned format given and off they went. Our class had all been together since at least the first grade with a good handful having survived since pre-K. We looked at the newbies with wolfish little eyes.

I remember when she stepped up. Clearly nervous, flustered in a uniform she was not used to wearing. She stated her name and said that when she grew up she wanted to be an Archeologist. My ears perked up immediately! I had loved Archeology since the first grade and to my knowledge, most of my classmates had no idea what the word meant. At our first "break," the term "recess" being beneath our dignity as 6th graders, I walked up to meet her. I liked her right away. She was kind. Smart. Funny. There was something different about her that took me years to understand. Essentially, when she spoke with someone, she was entirely focused on them. Genuinely, sincerely, interested in what others had to say. Actively desiring to put you at ease and love you.

We spent a fair amount of time together in middle school. High school never brought us together often as I was sucked into the third dimension that is choir and yearbook. Yet she always had a smile and a joke to share and an easy laugh that made you feel better just for having heard it.

She died this morning.

A painful sentence to write. A horrid reality for her friends and family. Such deep, deep sadness. Even though I never kept in touch with her beyond school, it is not difficult to imagine the depth of their pain, because she is a person that feels impossible to lose. She was always so enmeshed with those closest to her. How could she be gone while we are all still here?

She was our class president. We all loved her. Those who mourn her do not need to scrape the barrel to come up with nice things to say about her. It is an overflowing, endless stream of sincere remembrances. Simply put, she was the heart beat of our class in those last years. She worked endlessly on our behalf, organizing events and helping out friends. I have no doubt that her service will be full to overflowing, because I can not imagine that she has lived the past ten years any differently than she lived her life growing up. She loved to the core of her being, even to people that weren't her best friends despite the fact that she was surrounded by bratty private school kids. No easy feat.

I have been pondering those last years at WCS today.

It boils down to this. After twelve years of private school, our class reached a fever pitch... a desperation, for freedom from all that we thought had restrained us. I am aware that not every single person felt this way, but as a class, we certainly gave off that collective vibe of "GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" I know this is a common teenage angst, but those feelings were exacerbated and clearly festering after living in the same petri dish of roughly 120 classmates and 120 rules for over a decade.

I remember leaving those halls and swearing that I would never return, unless it was to visit my beloved teacher, Mrs. W.

I lost touch with the majority of my class over the years and felt pretty content in my decision never to attend any reunions. Partially in my wish to avoid certain people/memories and again, because I remembered being such a shallow, attention seeking drama queen in high school that I feel embarrassed at the thought of having to encounter old friends that once put up with my awful behavior on a daily basis.

Lastly, I felt so far removed from this school that played such a large part in my life. It had nothing to do with my life now, so why return? Even for just one night...no thank you. In light of our facebook age, the need to reconnect in person with people I might have awkward conversation with felt less and less appealing when I could just send a message from the safety of my computer.

Yet, this morning, when my sister called to bring me the news of an awful rumor spreading of this tragic death, my first thought was of those fellow classmates, I needed to hear one of those voices say, "Its just a rumor. It is not true. She lives."

I immediately contacted my friend, L, whom I have known since the first grade. She was one of my best friends when I first arrived at WCS. As we grew up, our interests went in different directions and we never had occasion to intersect, and yet I have always loved her. As soon as I heard her voice on the other end of the telephone, my tears started falling. Not only for this wonderful woman that had passed on at such a young age, but for the voice on the other end of the phone. For this friend that I shared endless birthday cakes and field trips with. We took tests together, played hopscotch together, won a tug of war game together at Field Day one year, sung in choir clad in the most humiliating costumes known to man, we have pictures of each other sporting terrible hair cuts...in short, we bore witness to each other's lives. And that is no small thing.

I heard in her voice immense sadness and shock. My heart broke for her and I could not stop wishing that I were close enough to reach out and hug her.

As the day continued, I reunited with friend after friend after friend. A note from a dear friend far away in Italy expressing love and sorrow. How I miss him! Some friends I had not exchanged words with in years and yet we did not bother with awkward small talk today, as I had once feared. Almost as if our friend had passed away before the first bell rang and we were getting the word out between second and third period that something had gone terribly wrong. Its funny how you can spend ten years apart and fall back in line within ten seconds, despite the maturing and changing that has taken place for us all. No one I spoke with missed a beat. Even as we grappled with the fact that she had passed away at such a young age. A Doctor, ready to heal and help, years of training, so much LIFE before her, suddenly gone. Yet we all seemed to be on the same page in the midst of this unspeakable horror and confusion.

I know that for most of us, this beautiful unity that goes beyond all earthly reasoning is quite easily explained. It is the unity we have in Christ. We knew our friend had passed into a glorious eternity with Jesus. No doubt about. Not even for a second. The ground we met on was level and it drew our eyes to the One who rejoices over her this night.

Rest in peace, sweet friend. It is no coincidence that you continue to bring your classmates together, even in the heartbreaking hours following your death. Your love drew us in...it always will.

Habits

2011-09-26T06:04:00.000-07:00

It didn't take us long to notice that our boys try to imitate pretty much everything we say and do.

At the beginning of the motherhood trail, I was acutely aware of the stress inducing reality that my children would soon mimic all of my naughty habits for the whole world to see. I could break out in a cold sweat now just thinking of the pressure I felt back then.

I say "back then" because those worries were broken down repeatedly by the Lord over the course of my first two years of motherhood (slow learning curve, remember?) Just that small lesson of living in grace and not by works, living in the Spirit and not by myself....you know, that beautiful concept of God supplying us with the strength and wisdom to follow through with his commands?

Yeah.

It took a long time to learn those things and I am still learning to apply them in different areas of my life.

Back to habits. It was around the beginning of year three that I noticed my children also picking up my good habits. Praise God for showing me that! It was a freeing thing to suddenly know that God was working on me every day and with each refinement, my children were watching the process of ashes turned beautiful.

Today I am celebrating two moments of joy that God granted me this past week. Evidence that He knows my heart and continues to build up my family in His word.

The first happened a few days ago, in our newly constructed book nook. A former closet, cleaned out, door unhinged, and space reclaimed for the reading of books. I found Cubby inside one afternoon. Curled up on a large pillow, dressed in his dragon costume, crayon in one hand, children's bible in the other hand. He was scribbling inside the pages.

The litgeek in me wanted to scream out "DO NOT WRITE IN YOUR BOOKS." But, I don't want them to think of his bible as "just a book" and besides, Cubs never colors inside his books. Thankfully, I paused before correcting anything and asked, "What are you doing?"

"My bible study" he blinks up owlishly at me with those endless blue eyes.

The boys watch me working in my Bible Study Fellowship notes each day, answering questions and spending time in the word. He watched. He absorbed. He acted.

"What are you studying?" I asked, wondering if my child might not also be a book nook genius.

"The bible," he repeated as if I were a little slow.

Nope, not a genius, just a child of God in training, which in my book is an even better kind of wisdom.

JOY!

The second moment came today, this very morning.

I try to do my bible study each morning at the breakfast table while they eat. They watch me sing a few hymns, the hear me pray out loud, they witness my exploration of the bible.

Today after I finished singing the last hymn, the Bear interrupted with the following:

"Um, Mom? Mom!!! Wait, wait, wait, its just my turn to sing to God."

"You want to sing a song? Ok. How about Jesus loves the little children?"

"NO! No, Mom. Its a song I wrote for God."

"You wrote a song for God?" I ask, the smile on my face practically sliding off into my cereal.

"Yup! Here it goes!!!!"

And he started singing.

I wish I could have understood all of the toddlereese that followed in the middle of his song. But I understood the beginning and the end quite clearly.

It began, "God because you love me, you made the stars and the animals and they were so good..."

It ended, "And then Jesus went to the disciples and he showed himself to those disciples."

The ending, by the way, was something he learned at his own BSF class. Last week they studied Jesus appearing to the disciples and followers after His resurrection.

You can rest easy knowing that I thoroughly squeezed and kissed him after the song ended.

Afterwards he shouted up towards the ceiling, "Did you like it God, did you?? I LOVE YOU, GOD!!!"

Another habit he has picked up from his Mama. I am always shouting things up at God, trying to get the message across to the kids that they can talk to Him anytime, about anything.

I hit the oasis this morning. I left the usual desert wanderings behind and just enjoyed watching the sight of my little men, learning and growing in His word.

This makes me feel like dancing. In fact, I am off to do just that. Its laundry day after all and every laundry day should start with some dancing to help us get through the misery of matching thousands of tiny socks.

Thank you for making the ashes so very beautiful, Lord. As always, you have taken me by surprise!

Ancient of Days

2011-09-17T10:14:00.000-07:00

We have been working on knowing the attributes of God and the names of God for a while now. Little by little, day by day, He is becoming an inextricable part of my sons' lives. Little men of God and His word. Thats what I am reaching for. And yet as summer drew to a close, I found myself missing days of lessons. Adding brick by brick, a wall of self doubt in my abilities as a mother and teacher. I do that to myself. Right on schedule, every couple of months, enough life issues happen and I begin preparing the bricks. I start organizing them and placing them one by one. A brick for the guilt of a temper lost. Another for the grief over the missed opportunity of a teaching moment that passed me by. Another brick for the ways I let people down, the things I leave unfinished, the words I have left unsaid. The wall takes shape and the self-doubt now has a new corner of my heart to grow in.

The boys and I walked through the zoo last week. The heat beating down on us, draining us and slowing our steps. Everything felt sluggish. Despite the fire in their cheeks and the weight of heavy feet on a humid summer day, their curiosity stayed lit, teeming with the need to be kindled.

Dripping sweat and joy, naming and guessing, exploring what God made. We paused by the large enclosure of giant tortoises and we marveled at them. Their homes upon their backs, the slow, deliberate moves. Not an ounce of energy wasted, purposeful creatures I find myself envying a bit. What does living at a slow pace feel like? I can hardly remember. Three boys seem to accelerate my life to a dizzying pace with each passing week. The tortoises continue their rusty march towards the fence line. Their large eyes watching the small boys at my side.

The Bear leans down and whispers, "He looks so old."

"He is ancient," I agree.

Ancient.

A word he has been hearing with frequency. It clicks in his mind. An audible revelation of history and love and familiarity and bone deep knowledge.

"He is ancient because the Ancient of Days made him!" he shouts.

And in that moment I am undone.

As if the miserable sun suddenly ceased beating my back and a rain cloud of grace had burst open over my heads and spent its rivulets of grace upon my heart.

Though I fail to teach well each and every day, the Holy Spirit never ceases to step in and intercede for me. Because despite the enormity of teaching a child about God and his universe, we are not defeated by our own sinful shortcomings, for He dwells over our children and enables them to grasp Him with their small hands. And then when we least expect it, He uses them to teach us.

He shouted, "Ancient of Days!"

Just as he has shouted, "Adonai, Yaweh, Shaddai," and "Messiah Jesus," a few days later.

This one God of endless names is oh so very faithful to his promises. There is not one out of his reach. Not one person too old or too young to be used for His work.

He always knows just when to encourage me. Right when the cup has nearly emptied. When the crevices begin to reopen and the parched desperation of a life too full of earthly sorrows begins to choke and mire the view...

He sends the rain.

He calls my son by name and leads that very son to call him by His name.

Oh, Ancient of Days.

It was spoken with a shout of joy. And the wall of self doubt my life was in the process of building came crumbling down, a defeated Jericho. Felled by a 3 year old in the grip of the Spirit.

Telling 2s

2011-08-30T01:53:00.000-07:00

We are home. After a week long sojourn in Allentown, Pennsylvania with the grandparents, we are once again tucked back into the bungalow. The boys picked peaches, rolled in the sweet summer grass, rode horses, fed cows, brushed goats, rode a train, saw wild bison and deer, played on Sesame Street, rode down a huge water slide, went fishing, ate treats, chased their grandparents for hours and helped celebrate their great grandmother's birthday. A lovely, energetic week built around making memories. I wiped many little tears off two small faces today after our goodbyes.

I have been meaning to jot the following thoughts down for awhile. Needing to record them for Cubby to look back upon one day, especially if his children are anything like himself or his mother. Particularly since all of his children will eventually be two years old for 12 laughter filled, tear drenched months...

Two year olds.

A two year old can take down the most sensible, rational, patient adult in ten minutes, easy. Its true... year two stinks at times.

I have always strongly disliked the term "terrible 2s," I cringe a bit whenever someone throws that in my face while my two year old is screaming in the corner. I dislike the feeling of having to make some excuse for his behavior. I scratched the term "terrible 2s" from my Mommy vocab even while pregnant with the Bear, declining a relationship to the phrase all together.

And yet, I have seen the anger and frustration year two can bring. It needed a term in my mind. And no, for as well meaning as all the perky women who have piped up with "The TERRIFIC 2s!!!" I can not call it that either. At least not while I live with and care for a two year old twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. When I am their Sunday school teacher once a week I will think of it that way in my mind, but for now, "TERRIFIC 2s!" feels like a tall drink of false advertising.

I have settled on the "Telling 2s" for my Cubby. Because every reaction from him is telling me something about him. His tantrums are the greatest teaching moments for me as a mother. Those moments of frustration for him that can only be verbalized by a Mt Vesuvius of screaming, crying, and wailing. I am given a small window of opportunity to assess, react and then teach. A telling moment for us all.

For example: Cubs needs direction, guidance and trust. He needs me to trust him with big projects, then guide and direct him to finish them. He loves helping out and accomplishing small goals. Whenever there is a fit of tears on the horizon, it can almost always be averted by simply letting him help with some sort of menial task usually done by adults. I will clarify that we do not cave into his every whim or desire, especially if my sweet toothed boy is begging for more treats, we simply look for the Cubs-styled exit sign out of the situation. If he happens to learn a lesson on the way out the door, then praise Jesus.

This afternoon as we struggled with the herculean effort that is passing through airport security with three children three and under, I watched Cubby's line of thinking as he surveyed the scene. Well, I took in as much as I could while taking off 3 pairs of shoes, two laptops out of their cases, handled four bags and removed several jars of medication, and a few sippy cups for TSA. And that was only my share, folks. J was balancing the babe on one arm while working on two more bags, his shoes, belt and other odds and ends. Cubby stood, glancing at the line, and then staring at the stacks of bins.

Now my instinct at any and all airports is to spend every twenty seconds repeating "DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING!!!!!" Especially to Cubby, our button pusher, who pushes all the alarm buttons on elevators, makes a bee line for every fire alarm in sight, and is currently in the delightful phase of wanting to lick everything around him. But I could see the wheels turning in his mind today and my options were pretty obvious. I could let him start removing the plastic bins that held the germ content of a public bathroom in Calcutta or I could say no and drag him through the remainder of security and possibly onto the airplane at a dead weight screaming fit of rage. Hmmmm...a tough one, I know.

We let him pick up the bins. He helped us load our things. He stayed by my side. He waited patiently as our items were scanned and then helped put everything back together. He felt entrusted with responsibility and valued as a part of our family. He contributed to the journey and walked a bit taller next to his father. Did he also make a bit of a mess and slow things down a bit for us? Yes. But really, let the children make a mess. What are four extra minutes in the TSA line when there are tantrums to be avoided and little boys to raise?

I am over the halfway mark of the telling 2s and have had an earful of all the things Cubby needed to say. So far, I can honestly say that 85% (definitely not 100%) of the tantrums were well worth it. I learned hard and valuable lessons from them. They helped me learn about my son. He hit me over the head with his personality, learning style, character, sins, habits, and quirks time and time again.

I always smile a bit whenever other Mommies ask for advice on their two year olds. I wish I had some fool proof method for angelic behavior to offer them, but then if it existed, we wouldn't have the miserable joy of discovering our children in all their sinful human glory. I am glad not to have unearthed a secret instant remedy. I believe I would have spent all my life setting some ill placed, unattainable bar of perfection for my children. They would have gone through childhood misunderstood, uninspired and with the constant burden of feeling like they failed some misbegotten expectation.

So Cubs as you sit and read this one day... I ask of you as your mother... and for the sake of any grandchildren that inherit our passions and tempers...

Listen to the telling twos, they are the guide and map for the rest of those childhood years. And I have a sneaky suspicion, the teenage years as well. I love you and have learned immensely from and about you this year. Keep all this in mind and whatever your children plague you with remember this: You used to lick my shoes and pull the fire alarm, all in the span of fifteen seconds.

Books and Nooks

2011-08-12T12:58:00.000-07:00

Hello. Its raining outside today. The proverbial cats and dogs are flooding the garden and our street front. Usually, the boys go a bit batty on days like today. But today, they are happily ensconced in the world of page and print. Cheerfully bouncing along the lines of A.A. Milne and Shel Silverstein.

I took full advantage of Border's closing sale and ended up coming home with about twenty books, eight posters, and four CDs. Three of the four CDs are vintage Sesame Street tunes which the boys are really loving! The book range from Dinosaur Encyclopedias to Architecture books to the newest cravings....all things cartography related...MAPS.

The Bear is often overheard reciting the names of his favorite dinosaurs. It makes my head spin at times, he knows around forty to fifty names I'd wager. Saurolophus, Ornatotholus, Ceratosaurus, Spinosaurus, Oviraptor, he can go on forever. We snatched this little A-Z dinosaur name book for about a dollar. He curled up with it on the sofa for a good half hour. Once in a while, his head would pop up and he would call out, "Mom? Mom? What is the name of this guy? What is he afraid of?"
Cubby is loving on ships and airplanes. I bought him an encyclopedia of each and he loves flipping through the pages as I call out the names of the different crafts and teach him the names of each feature. His little nose crinkles and his long lashes sweep down towards the pages as I hold him on my lap. I love snuggling a child in my arms when there is a big book on our laps. The child stills, the pages turn, and I can hear the wheels of imagination begin to churn.

Oh, boys and cartography. We are flooded with maps and the boys still can't seem to get enough. Map puzzles, books about maps, maps on the walls. The little explorers are fascinated with the world God has made.

This fantastic jigsaw book ended up being $3.00! It has eight puzzles inside stored in book form. The Bear is especially intrigued by Africa. He knows that our new baby cousin was adopted from Ethiopia and so he is ever curious to look at her home country. "Does B love coffee?" he asked with a furrowed brow. "There are pictures of coffee on Africa, Mom. I think baby B loves coffee!"

We ended our rainy day by baking some chocolate chip zuccini bread for Daddy and cutting out some ninjabread men for our little afternoon bookpaloozah. Cubs used his Robot measuring cups to assist in putting together the bread. He grated the zuccinis and ate several morsels of bittersweet chips. I think he could crack eggs all day...

My boys are tucked under big blankets as I type this. The rain is pouring outside, grey light streaming into the bungalow. I am excited to begin work on the boy's book nook later next month. It will be nice to have a small space for them to curl into with a book.

This rainy day really hasn't been so bad...

Little eyes are devouring the books strewn about them. Ninjabread crumbs cover their shirt fronts, hot cocoa has cooled into their little dinosaur cups. I am peppered with questions and warmth and love.

I don't think I want this particular rainy day to end.

55

2011-08-04T10:07:00.001-07:00

She shared what she remembered with me a few weeks ago. The reception planned by the family, the food they served, the fact that her brother was not present at the wedding because someone had to guard their house at all times. The weather, the road, the types of fruit in season. Her ivory skirt and her best shoes and the run to meet her two friends that would stand witness. The groom was thirteen hundred miles away, waiting for her in the new country they would both call home. She was the lone bride on her wedding day. She shared the day and the celebration food with everyone around her but him. My Abuelita went before the judge and stood next to her future father-in-law and married my Abuelo by proxy.

She is telling me this story while we make croquettas together. We are rolling the ground, spiced ham into the proper form. Hands reaching into the large cast iron pot, scooping up the ham and repeating the long learned ritual passed between us, this generational rhythm, a synchronized history of food preparation. Our hands are the same hands really, I need only glance over to see what my hands will look like at age seventy. I am proud to have her hands. We roll and form, roll and form, she keeps telling me the stories.

The morning spent watching one final surgery at the village hospital, the hasty shower back in her dirt floor home, the tearful, heart wrenching goodbye to her mother. Abuela hopping on the bus from her village to Havana, traveling down the road to a city she has never seen. The following morning, February 9, 1956, she pulls on her traveling clothes and boards an airplane. Everything is foreign to her and there is a horrible storm that day. The plane shakes and she recalls the fear climbing up her throat and plummeting to her stomach again. She gives a small smile when she tells me that she was the last off the plane that day. That my Abuelo had stood there, anxiously waiting, wondering if something had happened or if she had changed her mind.

"What happened then?" I asked.

"He hugged me and handed me a large coat that he had brought for me. I've never felt so cold in all my life," she smiles again.

"Did he kiss you?" I need to know.

"Of course. He better have, I went all that way just for him."

"Were you very in love?"

She looks down at her hands, rolling and forming the croquettas, and her eyebrows lift slightly. She lets out a small sigh, "Oh, yes. We loved each other very much."

The heavy shuffle of feet comes down the hall, a slow drag of stubbornness, and he walks to the table and begins watching us as we work. He starts giving orders. Roll this way, form that way, use more breading. He turns and leaves again. Shoulders slumped, voice raised, arms seeking out great grandsons to hold.

"He taught me how to cook" she confides.

She had worked every day and never learned the most basic elements of cooking. That first meal in their new apartment had been a supper of rice and beans. He gagged and asked whether or not she was trying to kill him. She cried. He taught her how to cook.

He interrupts us several times, wanting us to do things his way. They begin to argue and I watch them. Wrinkled faces, work worn hands, once dark hair now shot through with white. I think of the miserable jobs they have held, the brutal sacrifices, the impossible mountains they moved to provide physical necessities for their children. The indelible mark they placed upon us by never once walking away from their Lord. I think of their entire lives pouring into one element that is us, our family, their children, their children's children, their children's children's children. The small bodies playing just one room away from their bickering. My children. My children who are watching television in a house with electricity, running water and a floor made of wood and not dirt.

I smile to think of what their love has built. They argue all the time. He is perfectly horrible to live with, and yet he is what holds it all together, he is the heartbeat and sinew and blood. He loves so fiercely, despite the brokenness and pain he came from, his hands cling tightly to the frays and he pulls them into himself.

They both grew up on that small island, the reality of third world poverty stained to their very core. They do not love extravagantly, with gifts and vacations and such. They love simply. To the depth and breadth of what they have, they give to each other. What are flowery poems and diamonds when one has known hunger and hard labor? There is no need for material surplus.

He is her anchor and she is his lodestar.

There is not a basic need unmet, they tend and provide and shelter. I have never seen one grab a piece of fruit without first offering half to the other. It is true love right down to the very last mango, even if they are both shouting at each other as they slice it.

We finish breading the corquettas and she wanders away from her stories, into the next room of her mind, something about prescriptions and a doctor's visit and warnings of mosquitos that bring encephalitis. We pack the food into bags and shoo the kids out of the house and into the cars. Everyone exchanges hugs and as we pull out of the driveway for our seven block drive home, they sit together on the porch wrapped up in fifty five years worth of marriage, watching the fruits of their labor and love drive away.

Happy Anniversary to my grandparents. 55 years together. I treasure every day that I have with you.

Lady G

2011-07-25T15:34:00.000-07:00

One of my very favorite things about God is the creative unlimited ways in which he cares for us. I have had a rough couple of days, the ugliness of humanity bearing down on me. Sin cracking the window, obstructing the view of what I should be focused on. My vision tunneled onto those deeply mired cracks.

And then God started orchestrating ways to uncap the pressure, a few adjustments to let the steam hiss out. Out of the blue my mother offered to babysit all three boys so that J and I could have an evening out. Then my generous in laws treated us to dinner and a movie. J and I dropped the kiddos off and had such a lovely evening together. We let go of the stress and enjoyed that long forgotten phenomenon of eating a meal the moment it arrives. Ahh the simple things...Thank you Lord for a little R&R.

But God was not finished yet, because on Sunday He shuffled my schedule around so that I could make a new friend.

Now let me start this story by saying that I never grocery shop on Sunday mornings and my new friend only ever shops on Sunday mornings. Divine appointment right off the bat!!

I love the grocery store. Its where they keep the chocolate and the avocados and the English Breakfast tea. Its also a great place to meet someone and brighten their day. Of course, I am referring to my lovely children brightening others days. I always slow the cart down when I catch someone looking their way. More often than not, it is an elderly person. I always slow down for them. I let them talk to Babe or the boys and I soak in their smiles and laughter. We introduce ourselves and we make new friends. But then after a few minutes we part ways and I usually don't see them ever again.

On Sunday, I was strolling through the produce department when I spotted a lady by the tomatoes, her eyes glued on Babe, a wistful smile on her face. I headed her way and we started talking at once.

Lady G, as I like to call her, is from England. She looks to be around seventy but knocked my socks off when I discovered that she is ninety!!

"You look fantastic!" I say.

"Yes, I know. I never drink coffee and I take great care of my skin" she says with a cheeky wink.

She keeps me laughing there in front of the tomatoes for a full twenty minutes. We talk about England and World War II. She shares her love story and I soak in every word she says about the handsome American boy that stole her heart and whisked her off to Pennsylvania in the late 40s.

We finally part ways and I continue with my shopping. Every aisle I put between us I keep feeling that feeling.

You know that little nudge from upstairs when He is asking you to go talk with someone? Well it went from a feeling to an itch to an outright SHOVE.

I don't even know if I have any paper on me, I thought to myself. I fished around in my bag and came up with a lone scrap of paper, which happened to be the sleeve of an English Breakfast tea bag. Ah, confirmation.

I scrawled down my name and number and started searching for Lady G. My heart ached and I prayed that I was not too late. I recognized how badly I wanted to be her friend. How lovely it would be to share stories over a cup of tea. It was one of those moments when you have met someone new and realize that your life has been holding a place for them for quite some time and you just know that their laughter should be echoing around your dinner table every once in awhile.

I found her a few minutes later, parked in front of the frozen food section. She was quite surprised to see me advancing with my name and number. But Lady G smiled graciously and thanked me with a nod the Queen would approve of.

When I left the store I told J all about her and ended the story expressing my hopes that she would phone me.

Today the phone rang and I heard Lady G's voice, telling me how happy she was to have made a new friend. We had a lovely chat and I have decided to keep a record of all the English-isms she uses.

I am so thankful she called. I am looking forward to many cups of tea and stories with Lady G. Unlimited creative ways, reaching into my life. Lady G definitely fits the bill. :)

A Sneak Peek

2011-07-16T11:06:00.000-07:00

Its safe to say that I am about one week away from finishing the boy's homeschool room.

I am quite happy to be done. So is my husband, since the completion of this project will usher in a new age of laundry being done on time.

Here are a few sneak peeks at what I have finished this past week...

I reupholstered my rocking chair from pottery barn in a cute blue madras print. Bear asked me to add a heart to the pillow. I agreed. This is the chair that I nurse Babe in. I also hug injured children and read special books from this chair. A heart is quite appropriate, I think. :)

Race car lamp. I super glued a few race cars to this black drum lamp and added the road drawing. I finished this just today!! The boys are quite excited about this lamp and at the same time, puzzled by the fact that the cars are S T U C K! "Poor little cars" Cubby said with a sparkle in his eyes and a smile on his face, "I wike it!!"

I ordered a set of alphabet letters for the main wall of the room and was quite disappointed when they arrived after a six week wait! Two of the letters were cracked and 10 of them were either beige or white. Ummmm....boring!! So, Mommy had to upcycle these bad boys.

I glazed some Where's Waldo paper on the letter 'W.'

I glazed a map onto the letter 'M.' Can you see what's on the map? Florida, Pennsylvania and I managed to squeeze Price Edward Island on there!

Love this letter 'E.' The Bear decided that we should paint an "electric car." I warned him that Mommy has no artistic skill whatsoever and that since his gifted, talented Auntie N was not due for a visit anytime soon, that we should probably 3D the letter. He quickly agreed.

Here is the finished wall!!! You can see that the letter "C" is from Eric Carle's Hungry Caterpillar" and that we are supporting Daddy with the letter "U." I am quite pleased with how it all turned out after all the readjusting we did.

I am off to sew some curtains. Did I mention that my middle son almost killed himself with the curtain pull two weeks ago? Yeah. The project list has been interrupted by the urgent need to install curtain rods and sew curtains for the windows of our home. He always keeps me on my toes.

I'm going to try and have the room finished sometime next week and I will post the pictures of the finished product then!! Happy Saturday to all!

Zoo

2011-07-14T09:25:00.000-07:00

After two weeks of nonstop rain the restless energy in the bungalow reached fever pitch levels. The Bear woke up Tuesday morning, peeked out the window and said, "Let's go to the zoo!"

I really really really did not want to go to the zoo.

So we went to the zoo.

I dropped Babe off at Bella's house and took off with Bear and Cubby for a morning of unbearable heat.

Now I should clarify that I love the zoo. Our zoo is wonderful. Great classrooms, fantastic animal exhibits, we are constantly learning there! But our zoo is HUGE...and not in a good way. A massive sprawling zoo, completely outdoors and totally impossible to complete in one morning with two toddlers. Throw in ninety degree weather topping one hundred on the heat index and pour in a hot soup mixture of humidity and well, you can understand why I did not want to go to the zoo.

The boys shrieked and cheered when they heard where we were going. They love the zoo. When we turned into the long driveway entering the zoo they began kicking their legs and squealing out the names of their favorite animals. I took note of the heat waves rising off the concrete. Once they started asking for animals located at opposite ends of the zoo, I made an executive decision, announcing that we could each pick one area of the zoo to visit before returning home. The Bear picked his favorite place, the aviary. Cubby selected the Children's Zoo and I told them we would go to a secret spot after we finished there.

Wings of Asia is a beautiful display. Tented and packed with bamboo forests and trees, a cool river runs through the exhibit and there are plenty of waterfalls and small ponds. The exotic birds inside are spectacular and my boys love watching them.

Ok, fine.

They love chasing them. But once in a blue moon they do love watching them peacefully from the sidelines. That moon is quite blue, by the way...

So there we were, wandering through the bamboo forest, total peace and quiet, shattered occasionally by the sound of my voice screaming out my middle son's name as he tried various ways of killing himself via waterfall drowning or losing an eye to the seven foot tall crane following us. The Bear tip toed down the path in hopes of catching a partridge unawares.

The humidity swirled around us, the mosquitos abundant and hungry. Yes, a very normal day at the zoo.

And then I spotted an elderly man sitting on a bench. An expensive camera hung from his neck, a brown sack lunch fixed at his side. He was dressed in a suit and hat, despite the hot weather. His face had wrinkles in happy spaces, laugh lines like sunbursts mapped outwards and immediately drew me in.

I love elderly people. Have I mentioned this before? I love talking to them, or rather, I love listening to them. I think toddlers and elderly folks are the best story tellers on the planet. I could listen all day.

We met Ted. Who is originally from Switzerland and frequents the Wings of Asia display on a daily basis. Thats right, he goes to the zoo every day and spends each hour in a lovely bamboo forest full of birds. He likes to photograph them, he says, laugh lines stretch upwards, tufts of white hair peak out from under his hat. I end up taking his arm and he shows us around the place. He knows where all the nests are, knows the name of each bird and where they like to hide. He knows the treasures of this space. He gazes at my children, drawing from their energy, I can see his heart lifting as he takes in their giggles. Looking at them seems to fill his soul and he hangs on to my arm a bit tighter. He tells me about his family, his brother in particular. His eyes mist as he speaks of that brother and he stares into the distance, looking back only to watch the little brothers ambling down the path behind us.

We shared the better part of an hour with Ted. Precious time, well spent. When we reached the end of the exhibit, I held his hand and kissed his cheek. His bushy eyebrows lifted, as did one corner of his smile and a sweet blush covered his weathered cheeks.

We parted ways, all smiles and waves. The boys and I ventured off into the blazing sun once more, the slow shuffle of feet just behind us, retreating back into the cool shade of the bamboo.

After a half hour ramble in the reptile house at the Children's zoo, we fed a small army of goats near the new barn. The boys are quite red by now, damp faces and dirty knees too. Their bodies emitting smells of summer, sweat, grass...they smelled a bit like goat food as well.

"Time for Mom's adventure!" I announce.

I lead them to the ice cream cart and we order two scoops of vanilla. Then we walk to the tiger exhibit to sit and eat and watch. A little bench stands in front of the tiger's keep, shaded by a nice old oak tree. They sit with me, one on each side. We watch the tiger for half an hour. Have you ever watched a tiger for half an hour?

We did. It was lovely. Even after the ice cream dribbled away, belly bound or sidewalk smattered, we sat together, watching, waiting. Pointing things out, laughing, learning, always learning. And then silence for a few blessed moments...

The boys, thinking about tigers and sword fights with each other.

Their mother, thinking about the shuffle of feet in the stillness of a bamboo forest and the small bodies flanked on either side of her, the little heartbeats she loves so very much.

We ran back to the car, their sneakers pounding on the pavements, their small voices shouting, "Lets do this again and again and again and again!!"

How wonderful that we will :)

Something New

2011-07-07T16:05:00.000-07:00

We started something new this week, something Jesus put on my heart. A new way to help our boys understand accountability. A clearer picture of the repercussions of their decisions.

My boys like to wrestle. Or rather, Cubby likes to wrestle and Bear defends himself out of necessity. We average about four or five injuries a day.

So this new thing to help them understand consequences? Well it seems to be working so far...

Whenever the boys wrestle or fight over a toy, I usually separate them and immediately ask, "What is more important? This ____(insert toy, activity, food item) or your brother?"

They usually peek up at me from under their lashes before mumbling tearfully, "My brother."

And yet when an injury is involved, I usually move off to tend to the injured boy while the other boy waits in the time out corner until I return. The boy in time out misses what happens in our bathroom. He doesn't see his brother's tears as I tend and doctor a wound caused by selfishness and anger. He avoids the tears, the blood, the bandages. He stands in a corner thinking only of his own misery and isolation.

So we started something new. Hands that hurt must learn to heal.

Now when the boys wrestle and hurt each other, they must also help each other heal. Beyond a simple, "I am sorry," the boys must now tend each others wounds.

A few days ago, Cubby scratched Bear across the face, leaving behind an angry, bleeding cut. It breaks my heart when my sweet boy hurts his brother so viciously. His two year old heart is entirely self centered still and it aches to see this biblical evidence, glaring me in the face. None of us without sin, not even one. Not even our smallest, sweetest children. He is my son. Shared bone, shared blood, shared sin. And to watch him hurt my other son, pierces me. So I am taking the time to help him see and understand his part in all this.

I separate them. Comfort the Bear and lead them both into the bathroom. Cubby's eyes are wide as he watches me, waiting, for the punishment he expects to greet him. Anxious for his own fate and not sparing a thought for the brother with blood dripping down his face.

We sit the Bear down and I make Cubby hold the Bear's hand.

"Now," I say. "Help mend what you broke."

I guide him in cleaning the Bear's face, in applying salve, in unwrapping and placing the bandage. We wipe away the Bear's tears together and pray for him.

I oversee the apologies and forgiveness.

Then I ask the Bear to walk his brother to the time out corner. And Cubby serves two and a half minutes because he is two and a half years old. (The time is doubled if they refuse to apologize). Once the time out is done and the last tears are wiped away, we sit down together and talk.

Does this sound like a long arduous process?

It is.

And yet, I have to discipline myself to discipline them. To set aside whatever I am doing so that my boys can understand the depths of their sin so that they may one day appreciate the depths of grace and forgiveness. I sacrifice this time for them. The dinner burns, the laundry stays piled in the basket, the floor goes unswept. But they learn one day at a time to take responsibility for their actions.

At times, sin feels like an imposing mountain in my path. My children's sins tower even higher. I fret and worry over them. I doubt. I grieve.

Then Jesus gently reminds me that I can not save my children. He has done it for me. He has done it for them.

I often think of that precious verse, Isaiah 40:11

"He tends his flock like a sheperd:

He gathers the lambs in his arms

and carries them close to his heart;

He gently leads those that have young."

He leads me gently as I slowly push my young along, nudging them ever closer to the truth of grace and the hope they can have in this life.

Sweet Summer

2011-06-28T09:09:00.000-07:00

We are in the midst of our rainy season. Each day the dark clouds roll in off the Everglades and unleash a torrent of rain on the bungalow. The garden is grateful for the recent rainfall, it was a dry spring.

Our rainy season is a bit like the North's winter. The early morning heat waves are challenging to overcome for the sake of outdoor adventure, the afternoon rain and lighting makes us burrow in all the more. Our only respite comes on days when the sea breezes are strong or in the late afternoons when the sun emerges after a long rainstorm has cooled the earth. Even then, we only get about half an hour before the mosquitos come out in swarms.

So we must be creative, you see, if the boys are to get their daily dose of adventure and play.

Summer always brings this challenge. How do I continue to guard their precious boyhoods by creating opportunities for imaginative play?

Lately I've been encouraging the boys to get messy. I mean muddy, sticky, slimy, gooey, sweaty, wet, head to toe COVERED in fun. They always behave more on days when they get good and dirty.

I love when they smell of sunshine and sweat and giggles. I love finding small blades of grass in the house. I love seeing smudged handprints on the glass panes of the bay window. I love bathing a round baby who has recently played with a helping of baby food, the frothy bubbles swirling round chubby legs covered in applesauce. I love the sweaty strands of hair and the faces covered in smears of chocolate. I love this smell of life's joys.

The Bear and Cubby are assisting me more and more in daily chores as of late. Cubby likes kneading bread and folding clothes. His little voice always pipes up, "I want to help you, Mama!" and its the sweetest music of my day to hear him say so. He has also helped with sewing some of my projects. Many of the seams are crooked and the projects are at times, less than perfect...and yet they are so very perfect because my boy sat on my lap, his small hand encased in mine. My arms wrapped around his frame as I worked to help guide the needle to and fro. His little voice chattering as we worked. How I treasure those crooked seams.

The Bear, as always, loves making a game of our chores. I made fruit leather this week and we eagerly stood guard over the tray of sweet mangos drying in the sun. Peeking out of the window every so often to make sure it was still there. Running outside to rescue the tray whenever rain threatened.

I fashioned two jet packs for the boys, complete with firing engines, and they have yet to cease zooming around the bungalow. Space exploration, dinosaur hunts, pirate escapades, jungle safaris, and runs through the "deep dark forrest of animals" are the games of the day. Happy shouts and loud thumps echo through the house all day, with the occasional sparring match here and there.

This morning as I changed bedding, folded laundry, kneaded bread dough, and tidied up the living room, I noticed a strange sound in my home. The sound of silence. A terrifying sound.

Yet all was peaceful and innocent when I found the boys gazing out the window.

Bear looked up at me when he felt me settle down beside him.

"Can we play outside?"

A hundred practical reasons to say "no" floated through my mind before an eager "yes" spilled from my lips.

We ran in the sunshine, acquired mosquito bites, watched the mango leather dry, and played with trucks.

We weren't outside for long. Soon we had to come inside, strip out of muddied clothing, brush off bits of grass, and guzzle down cool water.

Both boys thanked me and ran off to play. The game they chose to play is called, "Wrecking Ball." This consists of both boys running at the hallway wall, top speed of course, and slamming into the wall with all the force their bodies can muster. They end up sprawled out on the floor, moaning a bit and giggling. Embracing joy and soaking in the magic of summer.

Sweet, sweet summer.

Projects Taking Off!!

2011-06-24T10:26:00.000-07:00

Hello.

We've been busy this month! The boys and I are having a ball this summer. I plan at least one or two 15 minute adventures per day and the kids love it. Digging toys out of ice blocks, sailing boats in the tub, making crayons, making sidewalk chalk, sewing, puzzles, scavenger hunts, paper towel roll animals, bubble wrap race tracks---to name a few. I love when they face the day ready for adventure!

Today we finished making jet packs for the boys. I found this idea on Pinterest, which led me to a cute blog by a stay at home mommy providing a tutorial for jet packs. Hers were made of tin foil and streamers, which is great! But I know my boys and that would not last an hour in this house. So we used duct tape and fabric for the fire streams. The boys LOVE them.

I've been sewing like a mad woman. And I am happy to report that I am about 60% finished with the back room update! I'll make sure and post pictures once its all done. For now, take a look at some of the pillows the boys and I finished...

Yellow rocket pillow, waiting to be ironed....

Madras plaid pillows with little buttons...

Here they are!

And I finished one of the bigger projects, the puppet theater!! Cubby loves this thing a lot! I used two small utility hooks on either side of a doorway so that we can string it up whenever we want. Many happy hours of play to come with this theater. :)

We churned butter a few days ago and I made pumpkin muffins with the buttermilk that came from our churning efforts. Oh the yumminess. Cubby, our resident toddler chef, is excited about using our fresh butter to roll out some dough for an apple pie tonight. He really loves helping in the kitchen and I have found that its his best place to learn.

I have so much that I want to share on here about the boys and their homeschooling. I'll have to save it for another day though. The babe is asking for some food and special cuddle time and really, how could I say no to that?

Word Problems

2011-06-02T16:29:00.000-07:00

I have always struggled with words.

Not in finding them.

Not in using them.

Rather, in the restraint of them.

As a child, I learned that I could use my words to effect people and manipulate outcomes. I could defend myself and defeat others. Sinful little brute, stubbornly wielding a weapon I had no idea how to use.

Learning to take responsibility for my words was a painfully slow process. I learned the same lessons over and over again for many years. Jesus had to beat me over the head with it at times. By the time I reached college, I had more control, more restraint, more common sense, a better understanding of love and grace. Not to mention the reality of sin. Sometimes you don't understand grace until you fully grasp the seriousness and weight of sin. Jesus led me to a much better place right at the brink of my adulthood.

Now as a mother, I find myself having word problems yet again. The heavy weight of them, the promises they carry, the good lessons they impart, the bad marks they leave...

Oh, my boys.

At times, my words fall like dew drops on the petals of their small pink ears. They roll slowly inward and nourish. They teach life, they give grace, the speak beauty and truth.

Then there are days when the words thrash. A hideous cacophony of anger, pride, confusion, frustration. My words stop nurturing and instead they draw out tears and stamp out joy. They are unleashed, I am bound up by them and then ashamed.

Thank God for grace.

I am learning to control my words anew these days. At first the exercise seemed fruitless and frustrating. My sinful nature constantly whispered excuses, my exhaustion winning out on some days, my words falling about the bungalow unchecked.

An adult tells the dog to "shut up" one day and a child says it the next.

We show them our anger, they show us ours.

They want autonomy and we want the control.

I never really went through a phase of "baby blues" but I certainly went through the "toddler blues." Going head to head and toe to toe with a screaming, red faced toddler is exhausting. I soon found myself saying THE WORD all the time just to avoid having any sort of confrontation with one particular three foot tall terrorist I am raising.

It felt easier to say THE WORD.

The word "no."

No.

So much easier to say no. "Yes" means messes and trouble. Doesn't it?

A few months ago I decided to reign in the words. Then I decided to really think about my reasoning in words before I spoke them to my children. For example, a little person asks if they can do a certain activity. If my first impulse is to say no, I would ask myself why? Was it dangerous to them? Was it immoral? Would it teach them something false? Was it legitimately bad for their health? Most of the time... it was just inconvenient for me. More cleaning, more work, more time, and horror of horrors... it infringed on my incessant need for control. Those aren't good reasons to limit their joy, hedge in their freedom and restrict the potential of their childhoods. So I started saying yes...

I said "yes" to yes. :)

Yes, I have had to work more (Good Lord the cleaning I have had to do!). But I have had more joy and less frustration, less confrontation. My children started blossoming in an abundant way. Their boyhood took on a new level of adventure. It brimmed with the giddy air of wild discovery and imagination. The best gift I've ever given anyone really. I said "yes" to their dreams. I am so very glad I did.

The three foot terrorist, need I really name him? Oh Cubby, things are getting so much easier between us. When I just take a few minutes to understand your heart a little more, its helps so very much. My little son who is so like me, we are learning so much together.

The discipline is still there, the boundaries are firmly in place, but the space between the walls is so much more joyous.

My words have seen a change too. They have left the realm of defense and entered the world of joyful leading!

Please don't read this entry in either extreme. We did not walk around in anger and tears all the time. Nor are we currently in a perfect state of bliss.

We are a family raising each other, really. These boys are raising me to be a good mother. They are sending me on practice runs, providing trails, lighting the sparks of refining fire as it were, to help me become a better woman of God. I in turn, work each day to help them become men of God. The goal immediately following is to keep them alive at the end of each day with as few wrestling injuries as possible.

And as always, to watch our words to each other. Keeping our promises, encouraging one another, creating opportunities of joy for others and ultimately, speaking words of forgiveness and grace to each other whenever we fail.

Revamp/Relief

2011-05-31T10:59:00.001-07:00

Well, I am in the 2nd week of the back room revamp. Things are looking great! I have found a few more homeschooling supplies this past week on etsy.

VERY excited to find:

1. An old mancala board: for color and shape sorting exercises.

2. assorted scrabble tiles: for spelling and word games

3. monopoloy money: for math and counting.

4. antique fishing creels/baskets: for storage

5. animals masks w/ tails: for make believe play

I am planning on spray painting the boys baskets from their old nursery at some point tomorrow. Cherry Red, Summer Squash Yellow, Canoe Blue. Then I'll start reorganizing the last of the toys and begin emptying out the closet to make way for the boy's reading nook.

The hunt for wallpaper continues...

I am relieved to be in the midst of this project right now, for many reasons. It is, of course, always freeing to clean out your life and let go of things you don't need. Secondly, making the most of our small space for my boy's needs is always a valuable use of my time. Lastly, I really needed to be working on something this week with my hands.

Many of you know our dear friend, K.B., who was in a terrible accident last Wednesday. My Mother has been up in North Carolina, at her hospital bedside, for the past week. We are still waiting for her to wake up.

I know God is in control. I know he has her name written on the palm of his hand. I know the Spirit is interceding for her and for us as we pray and breathe her name over and over again to him. I know that only he can restore her vitality, her energy, her passion, her ability to be. She was tenderly knitted together in her mother's womb. She is both guided and guarded. She is his beloved. She is not forgotten. No one and nothing can snatch her away.

I am holding on to these truths.

And yet, my mind and my hands are yearning for busyness. Because my heart hurts. Because sometimes it is easier to pray and breathe a name over and over and over again, when your hands are filled with a task.

Kids Worship/Scripture Memory

2011-05-29T20:13:00.000-07:00

I rarely ever tote product recommendations on this blog. This space is really a scrapbook of memories for my kids to look back upon one day...

However...

I must break form this once to share about Seeds Family Worship.

You can read all about them on their website.

Essentially, worship music for children designed to aid in the memorization of scripture.

They have 6 CDs each with a different theme (i.e. courage, faith, encouragement, etc). Every song is a different passage of scripture. Sign me up.

My favorite part about it all? (Aside from my kids memorizing scripture). Each CD you purchase comes with two identical CDs. This way you can rip the packet in half and minister to someone in your life by giving them a free CD.

:)

2011-05-28T12:26:00.000-07:00

DIY Summer

2011-05-27T10:07:00.001-07:00

Ahhh summer!!!

Not too big a change for us since its always hot, J is always in school and the boys are never in school. And yet, I feel the need to have at least one great summer-worthy activity each day for my kiddos AND lest I get lazy, an endless stream of sewing/building projects. I've all ready completed six projects (YES!) and I'll be posting those later.

This post is dedicated to the items on my to-do list.

First and foremost, the kids playroom/our living room needed a revamp. This room will be the main hutch for our homeschool activities and it needed a fresh breath of creativity and life. I painted our coffee table and the half wall under the counter top with chalk board paint. Hello instant blackboard and writing table for my boys to practice their writing!

Speaking of writing, the boys are really getting the hang of their letters. I managed to find a great wall set of letters on etsy for the boys. It arrives in a few weeks! I love that the letter O is a giant button.

This next week I'll be sewing new slip covers for our pillows and my rocking chair. Necessary because after three years of toddlers the fabrics were looking a bit hairy.

I found several variations of these fun madras/patchwork prints at JoAnn Fabrics at half off!

Hooray!!! I'll be spray painting a few baskets in cheerful colors and adding new shelving, alphabet charts, maps and a few other homeschool knick knacks. My goal was to get the whole room done on a budget and I met the goal. (

Next we move on to the boy's room. They have a very narrow walk in closet that I have affectionately titled the junk room. I have had three babies in three years, folks, so there are many many boxes of supplies, clothing, shoes, and unused items under the category: "Why Did We Register For This?" stacked high. The majority will go to Good Will or sent on to friends who could make use of our items. I want an EMPTY closet. Why, do I want an empty closet?

So I can make a reading nook.

I've been debating for a few weeks now on wether or not to go for it. The Bear LOVES...no...CRAVES quiet time and small spaces. This is a perfect little shelter to escape the hustle and bustle and curl up with a book. I won't be doing everything in the above picture. This is just an IDEA of what is to come. I'll probably be wall papering the inside in a fun print (stripes to match the Dr Seuss theme?) and then going from there.

There is more!!

First of all, my grandmother has generously decided to gift me my great grandmother's sewing machine. This has me elated for many reasons. Among them, I loved Meme and miss her. Having something of hers that she used to often is really special to me. Secondly, the machine is an antique. Lastly, I am not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way I started sewing quite a lot! The following projects are my big summer sewing projects. This machine will be put to good use!

Felt globe for homeschool room. Love the little suitcase and the moveable features of the various countries.

Tablecloth fort. Thank you, to whoever had this idea. The bungalow is small and cozy with no room for a play house. This is a GREAT option for us. Plus, I really was not a fan of the kids getting stains on my bedsheets every time they went "camping" under our table.

Puppet theater. Genius. Found some great ticking gingham fabric at JoAnn's (another steal!)

Lastly, the all important dinosaur tail belts. These are well under way!

I can't wait to have these all finished and see my boys romping around with this stuff. I love creating things that stimulate their imaginations. These little guys are each so special in their own way. I'm really looking forward to this DIY Summer of 11'.

Sigh

2011-05-25T09:37:00.000-07:00

You know I love every minute of it. (x's 3!!!)

Laundry

2011-05-22T09:02:00.000-07:00

We must own 2 billion pairs of tiny socks.

That is all.

Summer Study/ABCs of God

2011-05-19T09:31:00.001-07:00

I thought long and hard about how to keep up my daily Bible study and time with Jesus this summer. Somedays, its really challenging to block out my time for Him. I always pray that God would protect and guard that precious quiet time with him, but as my BSF teaching leader said to us two years ago, "We do what we want to do." Which means that I can pray for protected quiet time all I want but if I am not actively desiring and wanting God, then odds are...I won't be doing my Bible study.

A few weeks before BSF ended I started wondering how I could study the Bible this summer with my children. I have always wanted to learn the attributes of God and my mother in law mentioned a study sheet she once worked through with the attributes of God listed through the ABCs.

Bingo.

I did some research and found a few resources that looked promising. Most, like the ABCS of God by Children Desiring God, target 1st through 3rd grade. A few others had short memory verses to help drive each letter.

I compiled a scope and sequence from Children Desiring God that I found online with a worksheet of verses and then added a few references I wanted to cover.

By the way, if you would like to order the ABCs of God from Children Desiring God, I have heard excellent things about the lessons (there are 40 in total) and you can order them here. This curriculum does not go through the attributes in alphabetical order and also includes some topical lessons like, knowing God and trusting God. If your children are of age and you have the money to purchase it...GO FOR IT!!

Since my children are younger I will work a bit to modify the list and make it a bit more age appropriate. Meaning that I will work from certain aspects of the corresponding scriptures and if I have worthy materials, I will substitute them for the passage. For example, rather than read 10 chapters about the life of Joseph from the book of Genesis, will use the shorthand story from The Jesus Storybook Bible. If you are interested in doing this compiled study, I have added it below! (Note: Some letters have more than one attribute!)

My basic plan is to run through a few letters each week for the rest of the summer. I purchased a large poster board that we are hanging in the dining room. We'll be writing out the letters and adding pictures or nature finds or what God has shown/taught us. I'll also utilize my felt board and felt pieces for any of the corresponding Bible stories in the compiled list. (I'll be posting pictures of our progress!)

The Bear memorized the pledge of allegiance without my knowing it this past year. He proved to be capable of memorizing and so we will work on memorizing select scriptures from this list together. I know he can do it! :) Added bonus: I'll be learning and memorizing right alongside him.

I plan on working this study with them daily during our daytime meals. Meaning that we will read the story and concept at breakfast, then have applications during playtime where I'll try to work in what we learned over breakfast into our outdoor romps and indoor quiet times. Over lunch we'll talk about what they learned and what they think about the study so far.

The point is not to drill them or overwhelm them with passages. But rather to provide daily exposure to scripture, discuss and nurture their growing knowledge of God, and to demonstrate a faithful walk and loving relationship with Jesus.

The final component is perhaps the most difficult to keep up. I'll be praying each night for the next day's lesson. I've seen Jesus instruct my children in miraculous ways and I BELIEVE that he can not be limited. I'll be asking him for wisdom as I teach my children about Him and for his grace in the greater learning I am trying to establish in my home.

Are you planning anything with your kids this summer? If you are, please share! I would love to learn from you!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ATTENTIVE

• Psalm 34:15 The eyes of the LORD are on the righteous, and His ears are

attentive to their cry.

God is constantly watching and acting in the world.

ALMIGHTY

• Jeremiah32:18b-19a O great and powerful God, whose name is the LORD

Almighty, great are Your purposes and mighty are Your deeds.

God is All-Poweful

(Exodus 7-11 or Jesus Storybook Bible/ The Ten Plagues)

BOUNTIFUL

• Ephesians 3:20-21a Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly

beyond all that we ask of think... to Him be glory.

Jesus is more than enough to satisfy all our desires!

(Jesus feeds the 4000 Mark 8)

(The Woman at the Well John 4)

C CREATOR

• Isaiah 44:24b I am the LORD, who has made all things, who alone stretched out

the heavens, who spread out the earth by Myself.

God has made all things

(Genesis 1)

DELIVERER

• 1 Timothy 1:15a It is a trustworthy statement, deserving full acceptance, that

Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.

God saves his people from his wrath. (Sodom and Gomorrah Genesis 19)

ETERNAL

• Psalm 90:2 Before the mountains were born or You brought forth the earth and

the world, from everlasting to everlasting You are God.

God has no beginning or end. (John 1)

FAITHFUL

• Joshua 23:14 You know with all your heart and sould that not one of all the good

promises the LORD your God gave you has failed. Every promise has been

fulfilled.

God always does what he says he will do. (Matthew 1/The Birth of Jesus)

GOOD

• Psalm 145:9 The LORD is good to all; He has compassion on all He has made.

Mark 10:18b No one is good except God alone.

Everything God is and does is good.

GLORIOUS

• Psalm 19:1 The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of

His hands.

• Romans 1:20a For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities – His

eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen

God shows his greatness and worth.

(Moses and the Glory of God Exodus 33)

HOLY –

• Isaiah 40:25 “To whom will you compare Me? Or who is My equal?” says the

Holy One.

God is like no one else--he is completely holy and separate from sin. (Isaiah 6- Isaiah sees the Presence of God)

INCOMPREHENSIBLE

• Romans 11:34 Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been His

counselor

God is more than we can fully understand. (Highlights from Job 38-41)

JEALOUS

• Isaiah 42:8 I am the LORD, that is My name! I will not give My glory to another

or My praise to idols.

God will not share his greatness and worth. (The Ark of the Covenant and Dagon 1 Samuel 5)

KING

• Psalm 47:7a-8 For God is the King of all the earth – God reigns over the nations.

God is seated on His Holy throne.

God rules over everyone. (Israel asks God for a king 1 Samuel 8)

LOVE

• Psalm 37:25 Whom have I in heaven but You? And earth has nothing I desire

besides You.

Love is the overflow of joy that God has in himself. (Jesus and Zacchaeus Luke 19)

MERCIFUL

• Psalm 145:8 The LORD is merciful, slow to anger and great in lovingkindness.

• Psalm 103:10a He does not treat us as our sins deserve.

God is kind to undeserving sinners (The Prodigal Son Luke 15)

NEVER-TIRING

• Isaiah 40:28b The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the

earth. He will not grow tired or weary.

God never gets tired or weary (Highlights from the life of Jeremiah/Jeremiah 8-31)

OMINICIENT /OMNIPRESENT

• Hebrews 4:13 Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is

uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of Him to whom we must give account.

• Jeremiah 23:24 “Can anyone hid in secret places so that I cannot see him?”

declares the LORD. “ Do I not fill heaven and earth?”

God is everywhere all the time and knows everything. (The Passover Exodus 11-12)

(Ananias and Sapphira Acts 5)

PROVIDER

• Acts 17:25b He Himself gives all men life and breath and everything else.

God meets the needs of his creation. (Exodus 16 Manna from Heaven)

PATIENT

• 2 Peter 3:9 The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand

slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to

come to repentance.

God is slow to anger and slow to punish (The Flood Genesis 6-7)

QUESTIONS HAVE ANSWERS

• Isaiah 46:9b I am God and there is no other I am God and there is none like Me.

God gave us the Bible to help answer questions like: Who is God? How should I act towards him?

RIGHTEOUS

• Deuteronomy 32:4 His work is perfect, for all His ways are just... Righteous and

upright is He.

Everything God thinks, says and does is right. (The Temptation of Jesus Matthew 4)

REFUGE

• Proverbs 18:10 The name of the LORD is a strong tower, the righteous run to it

and are safe.

God is a place of safety and shelter for his people. (Psalm 46, 2Samuel 22)

SOVEREIGN

• Isaiah 46:10b My purpose will stand and I will do all that I please. Isaiah 46:11b

What I have said, that will I bring about; what I have planned, that will I do.

God has the right, the power, and the wisdom to do all that he pleases. (Crossing the Red Sea Exodus 13-14)

SELF-SUFFICIENT

• Acts 17:25 And He is not served by human hands as if He needed anything,

because He Himself gives all men life and breath and everything else.

God doesn't need anything (God defeats the armies of Moab and Ammon 2 Chronicles 20)

TRINITY/TRIUNE

• Deuteronomy 6:4 Hear O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one.

God is three persons in one. Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

UNCHANGING

• Malachi 3:6a I, the LORD, do not change.

God never changes. (Israel's kings after David/ Highlights 1Kings 10-22)

VICTORIOUS

• Zephaniah 3:17a The LORD your God is in your midst, a victorious warrior.

God always wins ---even over Satan, sin and death. (The Resurrection Matthew 27-28)

WORTHY

• Revelation 4:11 You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor

and power, for You created all things, and by Your will they were created and have

their being.

God deserves all love, honor, praise obedience and glory (The Pearl of Great Price Matthew 13)

WRATHFUL

• Romans 1:18a The wrath of God is being reveald from heaven against all the

godlessness and wickedness of men. Nahum 1:6b Who can endure His fierce

anger? His wrath is poured out like fire; the rocks are shattered before Him.

God is very angry at sin (Jesus in the Temple/ John 2)

WISE

• Psalm 104:24a How many are your works, O LORD! In wisdom You made them

all.

God causes everything to work out perfectly (The life of Joseph/ Genesis 37, 39-45)

EXALTED

• Psalm 97:9 For You, O LORD, are the Most High over all the earth; You are

exalted far above all gods

God ranks far above everything else--He is most high! (The Tower of Babel/Genesis 1)

YHWH (LORD)

• Isaiah 42:8a I am the LORD; that is my name. Psalm 9:10a Those who know

Your name will trust in You.

God desire to make his name known (The Burning Bush/ Exodus 3)

ZEALOUS

• Isaiah 42:13 The LORD will march out like a mighty man, like a warrior He will

stir up His zeal... and triumph over His enemies.

God does everything with strength and determination for his name's sake! (The Triumphal Entry/Matthew 21)

BSF Sharing Day Testimony

2011-05-11T11:38:00.000-07:00

Today was Sharing Day at BSF. Our last meeting for the book of Isaiah. I had a few friends ask me for copies of what I shared with our group and so I am posting it here. I left out the names of my children on this space for safety reasons.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

I'd like to share with you today about how God has used BSF in my life and in the lives of my three children ages 3, 2 and 6 months.

I'll start by saying that a few years ago, I fully planned on waiting to share God with my children. I would teach them right from wrong and a few little songs and verses, but for the most part, I didn't want to burden their minds with all the weight of the Bible & God. I truly believed that they couldn't handle it all. That was the plan. I drew the line in the sand before my little ones and told God to stay put on the other side until I gave the all clear sign.

Then BSF happened. My eldest boys, age 3 and age 2, lovingly call BSF "BEEF" and they would chant that name on our way to and from BSF. They started learning about God. They started learning about the Bible.

In the fall we began Isaiah. J and I prayed to God and asked him to help us make BSF a priority for ourselves and our children. We prayed that He would protect our quiet time.

I was 5 months pregnant when our study of Isaiah began. After week 1 of the study, my little baby boy started fussing and trying to make an early entrance into this world. We had conceived our boy three weeks after I had a miscarriage and we found out I was pregnant while I was in the hospital after a bad accident. The Doctors had told me then that the chances of having a healthy baby were slim. Once the pre- term contractions started, we went to our ultrasound appt, bracing ourselves for terrible news.

Our little boy was perfect, completely healthy! But I was told that I had to stay flat on my back for the remainder of my pregnancy.

I begged to have one outing once a week.

They grumbled but agreed.

I picked BSF.

Every week, my husband would help me to the car, pack in our little toddlers and drive us to BSF. He would help see us to our classrooms and then come back for us after the lecture.

My baby grew every week in the quiet stillness of my room that had me nearly clawing at the walls with boredom. But once a week, we would go to BSF and he would hear the sounds of hymns, discussions with my group and Barabara's lecture. It was the light and joy of my week. With each false labor and early contraction I would pray, "Lord, please protect my baby. Help me and the boys get to BSF this week so we can learn more about you."

Every Monday my womb would contract and contract, keeping me awake and nearly breathless. But by Tuesday night, the Lord would move his hand and quiet my body, just in time for BSF.

So we kept at it. I felt constantly challenged to share more with my boys. God used BSF in a mighty way to show me, without question, that my children needed no protection from him or his word. Even the difficult passages of Isaiah, like our lengthy history studies with Hezekiah, were no match for Jesus teaching my sons. I caught my eldest boy, playing a super hero game one day. The villain of his game? Someone called "Snacks-on-ribs."

WHO? I wondered for some minutes till it hit me. Sennacherib! O how the mighty king had fallen!

My two year old would wander around the house saying things like, "Jesus is my friend."

Every night before bed we would lead the boys in prayer saying "Jesus, fill me with your Spirit and help me to walk in you ways."

We would catch them singing songs we had never taught them.

The two year old would sing each day, "good morning God this is your day, I am your child, show me your way."

Last week as I walked my three year old to the car after his lesson, I asked what he had learned about.

"The new heaven and the new earth!" he replied.

"What will it be like?" I asked.

"It will be BEEF every day!!!!! I'll get to play with Mrs. Debbie and Mrs. Alice in a forest with Jesus and have sprinkled cupcakes!"

Yes, the boys were experiencing great love and joy.

On Wed. November 3rd, after 77 hours of labor, our baby was born peacefully in our home at 2AM. I jokingly told my husband, "He made it in time for me to go to BSF later today." My husband and our midwife responded by threatening to strap me to the bed.

The next Wed, my seven day old baby and I came to BSF. He remained with me for my discussion group and lectures for 10 weeks. All the while the older boys attended their classes and kept learning and growing. God had all ready broken so many of my little boundaries, but he was about to break the biggest one yet.

One day, when Baby was 10 weeks old, he started fussing in his crib. I leaned over him and tried singing a few nursery songs without any response from him. For whatever reason, I switched over to a few hymns. I began singing, "Join all the glorious names" which was our hymn last year during the John study when I was first pregnant with him.

He stopped crying, looked me right in the eyes and let out a string of coos and gurgles. He began kicking and wriggling and smiling. He recognized the song.

I switched over to "Immortal, Invisible." He shrieked with joy! I wept at the wonder of my God. My tiny boy, surrounded by the voices of hundreds of women each week, had learned to worship. He had felt God's love.

Our God who can measure a spread of mountains with the tips of his fingers. A God who sees our oceans like a tiny drop of water in a bucket. A God who looked at the line I had drawn in the sand and mercifully, ignored my foolish arrogance and walked right over and into the lives of my children.

3 days later I heard the baby crying in the front room, as I walked in his direction I caught the tail end of a little person's conversation with Jesus.

".....help him not to be sad or scared or hurting, Jesus. You always keep your promises and you'll be with him. Help my little brother. In Jesus name I pray, Amen."

I walked in and saw my three year old kneeling over the baby. His eyes squeezed tight, his little face titled heavenward.

It all changed for me that day. I prepared myself to start teaching my children in a whole new way. I started praying that God would give me wisdom with my words and energy to teach them as often as possible about him.

Barbara told us a few weeks back that we are not responsible for the consequences of our obedience.

Well, I decided to obey and began to Deuteronomy 6* our household. Coming, going, sitting, standing, binding his word on my heart, wearing it on my forehead, tying it to my wrists.

Guess what?

The kids are ok.

In fact, they are more than ok. They know Jesus.

This year for Easter, I prayed something different.

Lord, I am going to obey you and share your story with my boys. I leave the consequences of this in your hands. Help me, guide me, and give me wisdom.

(You can read our Easter story here)

We saw the first evidence of a consequence for our obedience four days after Easter.

The three year old woke up from a nightmare in the middle of the night. Before I could even start comforting him he said, "Mom, Jesus is here. He is taking care of me. He has victory. Jesus is with me."

Thats his motto now after a scary thought or bad nightmare: "Jesus is with me."

My challenge for you concerns the little person in your life. Maybe you have set a boundary or limited God in some way. Maybe you are scared of presenting it the wrong way. Know that God is mighty. Mighty to save and mighty to handle your little lamb. Mighty to give you words and full of grace for the days when you feel exhausted.

I found that my children learn about God in a way that I can't anymore. They are free from so many of the worlds lies and bindings still, their innocence allows them to soak in truth so much more deeply. They drink to the dredges of the well and are filled completely, while I alternate between drinking so fast that I choke or sipping so cautiously that I thirst. I encourage you, open the well to your children. Do it freely and do it soon!

Thank you to my children's leaders. Thank you for your love and prayers and support. Thank you for your loving, guiding hands. Thank you for filling my son's mouths with the word of God. You have planted seeds in their lives and all ready I see the saplings of truth sprouting, rooted firmly in God's word.. Thank you so much.

----------------------------------------------

Deuteronomy 6:4-9

⁴ Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one.^[a]⁵ Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. ⁶ These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. ⁷ Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. ⁸ Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.⁹ Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.

Alarm Clock

2011-05-08T08:47:00.000-07:00

I opened my eyes this morning and saw four men in my bed. The smallest one tucked against my side, clad only in a diaper. He was soft and warm, letting out little cooing noises and gurgles of happiness. J sat on the edge of the bed, two bed head little boys on his lap. Cubby held out a gift for me.

An alarm clock.

I laughed. My little alarm clock handing me an actual alarm clock.

The Bear gave me the card and J added that we would be driving to the garden center after church to pick up a new rose bush for Mother's Day.

We snuggled under the covers for a bit.

The Bear came to my side and I tucked him under the blankets with me and cradled him close. His cheek pressed up against mine. His cold little toes digging under my legs, searching out warmth.

"Mom, I am going to keep you."

J and I laughed. "Keep me?" I asked.

"Yes. For my collection!"

"What collection?" asked J.

"My dinosaur collection" the Bear responded.

Quite the honor to be singled out as an acceptable addition to his all important dinosaur collection.

J prodded a bit more, "Is that because she is your Mommyosaurus?"

"NO!!!!" The Bear cried, "She...is.....a.....girl."

I kissed him.

"You are so beautiful Mom. You are like Barbie."

I laughed again. "Barbie?"

A definite first for me since I have brown hair and short legs and no torso to speak of.

"You are the most beautiful girl in the my whole life-world and I LOVE YOU!!!"

Oh boy, was he ever in for it.

I proceeded to thoroughly kiss the daylights out of him while he giggled and kissed me back.

All my boys have been sweet as pie today. Even the four legged one is cutting me some slack.

I love my new alarm clock. Yes, J got it for me because I am so sluggish in the morning and have a notoriously difficult time rising. But even with gentle teasing of this gift, I see a perfect reminder of my boys.

They awakened my heart and soul to the beauty of grace and love. They forced me to look deeply into the word of God. They humbled me and brought me endless, boundless joy...even early in the morning.

Happy Mother's Day!

Easter

2011-04-24T11:48:00.000-07:00

I learned an important lesson this year as a mother. God is not limited by age.

He is timeless and He works through all ages and with all ages. I've watched my baby respond to Him. I've watched my toddlers respond to Him. There is no "too young to understand" when it comes to God and His infinite love. He can not be politely restricted or reigned in.

This year for Easter, we did our best to impress on our little ones the power and meaning of his death and resurrection. We told them the story and let God do the rest.

To help the boys better understand the concept of sin. We sat them on the couch and asked them to name a few of the sins we struggle with. J and I wrote down a few of our sins and taped them onto the cross. I wrote down the sins each boy called out and then we taped theirs up to. This way the boys could clearly see that their sins had to be taken up by Jesus on the cross.

While the boys have heard the Easter story for several weeks now, I wanted the actual observance to make an impact and cutting things down to the final 12-18 hours seemed to make the most sense.

I decided to do a mini-sedar/communion time with the boys on Saturday night. We brought out our special plates and prepared toddler friendly sedar foods. Auntie J came to break bread with us. I prepared the meal and then sat the boys down in their seats. All the lights in the house were off with only the gleam of six or seven candles to illuminate our little bungalow.

"Jesus is the light. Our only light in a world of darkness." I explained. "Tonight we remember when Jesus was crucified for our sins."

When the meal began we passed around the freshly baked bread. "Jesus said, I am the bread of life." And we ate.

Apple juice filled the chalice at the center of our table. "Jesus said, I am the true vine." Small hands grasped the cup and they drank deeply.

We read the stories as we ate. Shared the pain and gravity of Gethsemane. Heard the lashes of whips and the accusations laid upon our spotless lamb of God.

The Bear was quite taken with the account of Peter slicing off the soldier's ear and was desperate to elaborate the story into a pirate tale of Jesus conquering the soldiers with his awesome might. I always long for that too when I read the story. We know he could have. He was more than capable. He carried the blood chilling foreknowledge of ripping flesh and searing pain, yet he went to his death willingly. How great the power of his surrender.

Darkness filled our space as we drew closer to the moment of observing his death. A stillness began to settle in. Despite the usual toddler shrieks and giggles, the boys eyes were round with curiosity. We finished our meal and I carefully led them down the dark hallway and into our bathroom.

No bubbles or toys this evening. No splashing. They slipped into the cool water and I washed their little bodies. I sang over them.

"Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world. Have mercy on us. Grant us your peace."

The boys brushed their teeth by candlelight, then ran into their room. Once pajama-clad, we settled onto The Bear's bed and read an Easter story book. Cubby had a harder time focusing. The Bear sat still and listened hungrily.

Darkness shrouded their small room. They each blew out their candles. I held onto mine as each went to his own small bed. They nestled deep under covers and blankets. I opened my Bible to Isaiah 53 and read those ancient words of prophesy to them. They were quiet and still as I read. "By his wounds we are healed," they heard. I closed the Bible after the final verse was spoken. And then...

"Jesus said, 'It is finished.'"

I blew out the candle. The Bear breathed out quietly, "Jesus said, 'It is finished.'"

I said goodnight and kissed them. "Tomorrow we will run to the cross. We will see what God has accomplished. We will see victory over death. The darkness of death will be gone and the light of Jesus will blaze in glory."

The Bear whispered, "Yes."

And so they slept.

I woke up early on Easter morning, Slipped a few cinnamon rolls into the oven and went out into my garden. I clipped roses, plumbago, snapdragons and bougenvillas, heavy with dew and the promise of true hope. I placed boughs of purple duranta on our table, purple for the majesty of my king. I quietly stripped away the sins we had placed on the cross and covered the rich wood with a white scarf. Blue and white flowers graced the base of the cross as I heard the early morning stirrings of small children behind the nursery door.

J and I brought out instruments. Maracas, tambourines, any and all noise makers. We rushed into the boys room with joyful shouts, "HE IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN INDEED!!" The boys ran from their rooms to behold the cross.

Their sins were gone and Jesus had risen.

Cowboy Pirates

2011-04-14T07:36:00.000-07:00

Cowboy Pirates ride dolphins and lasso sharks. Those lassos, by the way, are made of braided kelp. And it would interest you to know that instead of spurs on their boots, they have starfish. Instead of "Yee-haw" they say "Yee-Arrrrrrgh." They are the scurvy heroes of the high seas. Terrible menace and community servant combined.

The Bungalow Brothers are the fiercest Cowboy Pirates on land or sea and demand that their carrot soup be renamed "Coyote Crab Soup." They have informed me that bath time is no longer necessary since they are always damp from the salty seas. Thanks to my Dad, the Cowboy Pirates learned the word "wench" the other day. Mercifully, they believe "wench" to be a kind of rhinoceros. As in, "Make room on the deck Captain Sneaky Eye Patch, here comes the BIG GIANT WENCH!"

Captain Tough Hook (Aka The Bear) rides on a green dolphin named "Fastest Hero." Captain Sneaky Eye Patch (Cubby) rides a blue dolphin named "Bob." Fastest Hero and Bob are also brothers and they love to eat squid pizza. Yum!

Baby Cowboy Pirate is aptly named, "Baby Cowboy Pirate" and seems to have a mischievous glint in his eye this morning. Baby Cowboy Pirate has been deemed "too little" to ride on dolphins. His brothers, while terribly fierce in battle, are exceptionally concerned for their baby brother's welfare. And so, Baby Cowboy Pirate has been ordered by both commanding officers to restrict himself to the cabin crib. The only exception, of course is when the ship's cook "Pirate Mrs. Kiss Your Nose" (Me), takes Baby Cowboy Pirate to the coral reef for lessons from a stingray. This particular coral reef stingray school subplot sounds like a storyline from "Finding Nemo." When I said as much to Captain Tough Hook he growled in my general direction, "This Stingray is different! His name is Hank. Hank the Stingray and he does NOT like to sing." Ahem. I stand corrected.

Time to prepare a bowl of Coyote Crab Soup for the Bungalow Brothers. They'll be tying up Fastest Hero and Bob to their barnacle crusted hitching posts at any moment. And as Pirate Mrs. Kiss Your Nose, I'd best have their soup hot and ready, or else I'll have to two step off the plank.

Fredford

2011-04-08T05:47:00.000-07:00

Fredford is a purple dragon. He spits blue and green fire. He has an unnamed little sister, who is a tiny red dragon. Fredford lives comfortably on the Southeast rooftop corner of the little yellow bungalow. He is stationed there for the purpose of maintaining a nightly vigil over the bungalow. His orders are to be on the look out for nose monsters (otherwise known as Pediatric ENTs), scallywags and girls that talk too much.

I have recently learned that Fredford is 4 years old and cheers for the Phillies and Marlins equally. He maintains a strict diet of Oreos, french fries, cheese and yogurt, with the occasional slice of pizza.

Fredford is afraid of loud firetrucks and does not take his medicine.

When Fredford is bored (which is known to occur from time to time with dragons who live on rooftops) he likes to moonlight as a pirate. However, not in the elevated ranks of Captain, for I frequently hear orders shouted at Fredford to "swab the decks." Especially if Captain Hook has dropped in for a visit.

Fredford's very best friends in the whole wide world are Cubby and The Bear.

They love to spend time together.

This leads us to the Thursday Toddler Movie Night ritual, in which two little boys and their dragon, curl up on my bed with a bowl of popcorn and enjoy a film.

A relaxing time of the week for all us. The only tense moment really, was when the three year old refused to share his popcorn with the dragon and the two year old was forced to rush to the beast's defense. Last night, the film Monster's Inc. was received favorably by the tiny audience perched on my bed. Giggles, gasps, and popcorn kernels abounded. Though I am led to believe that Fredford talks too much during movies, because at one point Cubby turned his head towards Fredord and shushed him quite loudly.

We finished the movie and tucked our sweet little darlings in their beds. They said their prayers. The Bear recited his memory verse (John 3:16). Kisses were shared and noses were rubbed.

It wasn't long before their breathing evened out and floated up to mix with the lovely brilliance of their imagination, floating somewhere above the Southeast rooftop corner of the little yellow bungalow.

A quick update

2011-03-15T12:20:00.000-07:00

Forgive the month long lapse in writing.

We have had year upon year of difficulty in our little family and for the past month I have desperately needed peace and refreshment. I feel like Jesus is slowly leading me to a place of comfort that I need.

Isaiah 42:3

" A bruised reed He will not crush, a smoldering wick He will not snuff out. In faithfulness He will bring forth justice."

I've been clinging to this. I really have. The babe had a three day hospital visit nearly two weeks ago. That verse sustained me. We've been through a lot but God has never forsaken us. We are in a vulnerable place right now and we need rest. Does that mean that nothing bad will happen to us?...no. It means that God will not crush us or leave us without hope. If anything, He sustains and we put all our hope on Him.

God has also been renewing our life here in this city. After a long period of living spiritually dormant, God led us to a new church with new fellowship that has blossomed all around us. We feel such joy to see God actively working in our lives! New ministry opportunities have come up as well and we are so grateful that we can now pour our hearts into a church as a family.

I can't write much this afternoon, but I wanted to update all of my sweet friends following this little blog. The boys are growing more and more each day. They are curious about God and the world He has created. I am working hard to help them understand their place in it. Teaching a child to worship and serve God is a great privilege, one that I do not take lightly. I am so thankful for God's grace to me in that area because consistency is so very hard.

More updates to come...

Susana

2011-02-11T17:12:00.000-08:00

Since last April, we have been praying for a beautiful princess named Susana.

Susana and her family are missionaries in Haiti and last April, Susana was diagnosed with nueroblastoma. She was 4 years old.

We are not related to Susana, in fact we have never met. But I wanted the boys to pray for her. I wanted them to know and love their little sister in Christ. So we prayed for her...

In January, we received the sad update that Susana's health was failing. Her little body was overwhelmed with tumors and her prognosis was terminal. We prayed almost every night for her.

Yesterday, Susana went to heaven to be with Jesus. I believe with all my heart that she is with Him now. Perfect and whole. Susana's 10 month battle with cancer was painful and worshipful. I can send you the link to her parent's ministry if you want to read more about her battle. She fought well. She praised the Lord through it all.

Last night, as we tucked the boys in bed, I shared the news of Susana's passing with my eldest son, who has just turned 3.

All those who knew Susana's story and heard of her passing felt sorrow. I felt like weeping when I heard the news. My heart broke.

The Bear's reaction was quite different when I told him.

The Bear looked at me and then sat up in bed, pumped his little fist in the air and shouted, "THAT IS AWESOME!!!! Susana is with Jesus!! At her Jesus Party!"

A Jesus Party. How great is that?

We talked about heaven and what Susana was seeing in heaven. The Bear wanted to include things he loves like dinosaurs and race cars but we also talked about the beautiful Princess gown she would be wearing, as a beloved daughter of the King.

Her hair is long and beautiful and curly, I said to him.

"Woooow" he responded, "Just like Dora."

I smiled. "Even better than Dora."

"And Mom, Jesus made her a cake. With all color sprinkles"

He began listing all the colors of sprinkles, so that I could say, "Yes. Rainbow sprinkles."

"She will love that!" he said.

"And she can dance, run, sing and ROAR!!" he added.

"She can!!" I affirmed, "Jesus has made her all better. He touched her, called her home and fixed every part of Susana that felt tired and hurt."

The Bear smiled and then roared again.

Early next week I am adding a new rose plant to my garden. This one is for Susana and I want it to be the brightest pink I can find. The boys can help me plant it, and I will remind them whenever we are working in the garden on that particular rose bush, that Susana praised Jesus even when she was hurting. Which is really a tremendous thing when you consider that most adults don't even know how to do that.

I know my boys are extremely young to really grasp the full meaning of Susana's life and death and eternal life. But I also know that this little girl and her story has continued to water the little seed growing inside each of my boys. They saw another child worshipping and loving Jesus. It made them want to know Him better. Susana taught my boys to call on Jesus.

Thank you, sweet darling girl, your courage and love for God taught my boys something powerful and drew them closer to Jesus.

Names

2011-02-09T10:05:00.000-08:00

When do you call on Him? And what do you call Him when you do?

In times of fear and uncertainty, we often reach out to the ones closest to us. Family, friends, or perhaps things that bring us temporary comfort. Even believers fail to reach out for His righteous right hand, even though it is ever extended in our direction.

I worshipped an idol for most of my life. The idol in my heart was, in fact, God. Not Yaweh, not the "I AM," but the God I had decided that He should be. I didn't bother reading the Bible too often. I used the stories I had heard all my life to fabricate the God I thought He was, rather than look to His word to KNOW Him for Himself. Last year, God tore that false idol down. My life fell apart at the seams. I began to frantically reach out for things and people to save me. I needed something to comfort me. Something to distract from the overwhelming pain and fear. I kept trying to fill the space with thoughts and ideas about God that I wanted to hear. So He ripped everything apart again, until there was nothing but silence. Then He showed Himself. He began demonstrating every day, who He is. The more I opened His word, the more I of Him I saw. Faith is not blind. Faith sees.

Today, I can cry out to my God in a whole new way. He has many names in my heart and every day I am learning more. God has taught me not to limit Him. Not to draw lines about where He can and can not go.

When I first became a mother I wanted to introduce my child to Jesus, slowly. I assumed my son could not understand much at a young age. I drew a line and told God how far He could go. I was wrong.

My sons have not built up a false image of God...as of yet. For the most part, they are clean slates, just beginning to understand the world. The greatest thing I can ever do for my children is introduce them to the one true God of this universe. In a world filled with passive relativism, where sin is no longer sin but "disorder" or even worse, "natural," I long for my sons to stand in the way of truth. They only way I can help fill them is to keep filling myself with the word. God erased the line I had carefully drawn and in His mercy, stepped over it. Last week I heard my eldest son pray over my youngest child. Three weeks ago, my infant son responded to worship songs he had heard from inside my womb in a way unlike his response to other nursery rhymes or songs. Last month my second son learned how to worship God by placing his hands up and shouting "GLORY" at the skies above. They are learning about him and they are learning to love Him freely.

I found this today and am so interested to learn more about the names of God. Its tough to discipline myself to seek Him first at all times, especially when I have relied on so many other places for help most of my life. Knowing these names will help me remember to call on Him. If you are interested in learning the names of God in Hebrew, this website spells them out, pronounces them and defines them. He knows me so intimately, I want to know Him that way too.

click here for the site.

The Scoop on Poop

2011-02-06T08:44:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, we took the boys to the zoo. They were giving free t-shirts at the entrance to all members, in honor of their newly opened exhibit called, "The Scoop on Poop." We are now the proud owners of two dark brown shirts with a graphic depicting the silhouette of a warthog taking a dump. Not joking. Size large to boot! The zoo created a fantastic exhibit outlining how all the poop in the zoo is used to help decrease their global footprint and increase their sustainability.

Poop has become my life lately.

An equally weird and disgusting statement to make. But there are many weird and disgusting milestones on the Mommyhood path and right now I am at the Poopville stop just north of Diaper City.

There are many things that surprised me about potty training. Beginning with the fact that I never thought I'd be so excited to watch someone else drop a load. But when you watch your little darling have his or her first little moment of success on the pot, joy abounds! No one told me how over the moon I would be! And I really was, over the moon and floating happily through the universe until I suddenly came crashing back to the earth with the reality that no diapers, means more work.

Sorry to disillusion any of my mommy friends that haven't potty trained yet. The loss of diapers definitely brings a bit more financial freedom to your checking account but free time is not an automatic given with potty training.

I suddenly find myself living in our bathroom. I am in there all the time! Granted, we potty trained two toddlers at once so the monopoly poop has on my life right now is understandable. The Bear says he needs to go. I follow him, offer assistance as needed, maybe read a story if he needs a few extra minutes, help him clean himself, wash his hands, take a deep breath and reach over to turn off the bathroom light when I here Cubby's soft little voice pipe out, "Me go potty too, Mama!!" And we do it all over again with Cubby. I am in the bathroom with each child for an average of fifteen minutes. Then, twenty to thirty minutes later, nature calls once more, ok...twice.

For all those in the midst of potty training, I hope the end is near for you. And if its nowhere in sight and the potty has become the Mordor of your life and your little orc is stubborn and constipated, well sister, I have a few words for you. Here's our story, the scoop on our poop.

Cubs was an absolute snap to train. He loved it! Aim my pecker at something and pee on it? Sign me up! He was all for it. The Bear? Not so much. He was afraid of the toilet. He loved his diapers, etc etc. The cons were stacked up a mile high and the only pro was being diaper free. I would ask him to go and my delightful first born, who is usually unbelievably obedient and loving, would stamp his foot and shout, "NO WAY!"

So I pulled a Modern Mommy and began to tearfully google all things potty training. I was tired and desperate. I was having nightmares that I would be the parent of a 9 year old in diapers. I was not happy to find that the majority of parents resorted to buying toys or giving candy for having success on the potty. I didn't want him to find positive value in his identity or triumphs through food or gifts, but did I have any other choice?

I did. I listened to my kid.

Turns out that no matter how hard you try, you can never force another human to pee. At least, not without inflicting some major emotional trauma. I listened to my boy and soaked in the fundamental elements of his personality. What he loves and how he relates to people and ideas. Then I took stock of what kind of parent I was and what kind I of parent I wanted to be. Really, who ever thought poop could provide such a defining moment in life?

Well it did.

So I waited a few extra months, and then I did it his way. Or at least, that is what I let him think. No rewards---food or otherwise. No begging or pleading, I have a firm rule not to negotiate with toddlers that terrorize. We gave him rules, no videos or trains until you potty. If you have an accident (poop or pee), you have to clean it up yourself. You get to flush the toilet and you are in charge of washing your hands. My son is a perfectionist and he loves instructions. He likes knowing the boundaries. I think he took one look at that toilet all those months ago and thought, "You want me to do what? GROSS!!!" I had to show him that it was the better, cleaner way to go. I had to realize that he will never respond in the affirmative if I ask him to go to the bathroom, he likes to be the one to let me know. He needed the why. He needed the reasoning. He needed the mechanics, my little engineer. He also thrives on having items designated for specific purposes or uses. To aid in the "special" element of potty training, I bought about 15 books to keep in the bathroom. They are only for the bathroom. His favorite stories and characters live beside the toilet. He can read them whenever he needs to go. Not as a reward for going, but as a component of the joy and privilege potty training can bring to a big boy.

Cubs by the way loves the social aspect of potty training. Oh wait, sorry, did you think potty training instruction involved discussions on privacy? Sorry, he is only two and I think this lesson will have to wait awhile. Cubs loves to perch on the toilet and chat with me. "Mama, I love you so much. Do you see a dragon? I want to eat macaroni. Can we play outside? Read me the book now please. Oh! oh! I DID IT, I did a big potty fo! Can I flush it?"

I have more grey hairs now that its all said and done. But I understand my boys in a whole new way. I think its because we took the tougher road of getting to know one another rather than the easier road involving M&Ms each time you pee.

I had a lot of parenting revelations when I was at the end of my rope. I'll share just one with you right now. Effective communication with my kids is important to me. I want to really hear them when they speak with me. I want them to understand my heart when I speak to them. I never want to bully them into obedience or bribe them into good behavior. I want them to see the why behind everything we do as a family. If you are reading this and don't know what the why in question is, I will tell you. Its Jesus. Everything we do as a family, we commit to him as an act of worship because he loves us. It is not our emotional crutch, its not just a nice thing to do for our kids, it is the ROCK of who we are.

And so, I have committed to pray for the hard conversations of the future, even now. I pray that God would infuse them with peace, grace and understanding.

Here's hoping that your potty training days lead to a better understanding of your children, even at your the expense of your hair color.

Oh, The Things You Say

2011-01-28T08:51:00.000-08:00

Half an hour ago I was near tears.

The boys were eating their lunch and Cubby told me he had to use the potty.

We didn't make it in time.

Cubs pooped on the floor just as The Babe began crying for a feeding. The Bear watched the pandemonium in silence. Cubs wailed, thinking he had failed. He is usually flawless when it comes to his potty time. I tried to reassure him while sanitizing his hands and the floor and also comforting The Babe as best I could from across the room.

"I am going to cry!" I wailed in misery.

The Bear's head came up and he said, "Oh no, Mom! Don't cry!"

I walked to him and gave him a hug.

He reached up and began stroking my hair.

He then said, "Please don't cry, Mom. Because you are a girl. If you cried it would be just awful."

I looked up in surprise and then tears really did flood my eyes.

When did he learn the difference between boys and girl? Where did he learn the word awful? How do you go from being a needy baby one moment to a caring, compassionate and thoughtful little human being the next?

Early this morning I sat at the dining room table working quietly on my Bible study. Rather, I tried to work on my Bible study while the kids danced around me, alternately fighting and asking questions. I was studying Isaiah 40. Learning about the sheer massiveness of my God, I tried to wrap my mind around all he could do. I pondered the amazing fact that He was not created, that he is infinite coupled with the incredible fact that He has always been and always will be.

But as you can imagine, it was quite difficult to really meditate on these enormous thoughts when all around me little people are running, shouting, leaping and making more noise than a three ring circus.

I gave up after a while and went over to our piano and spontaneously decided to grab a hymnal. Then began singing worship songs for my Lord.

The boys have never really heard me sing. They have heard me sing little children's songs but they have never quite heard my full voice. I have sung on very few occasions in the last five years. The joy of music was lost to me after a traumatic event in college. But this morning, I found joy in it once more. After I finished the first song, I noticed a strange sound in my home.

The sound of silence. Complete and total silence.

The Bear stood looking at me with wide eyes.

"Mom" he finally managed, "You are a great singer."

I smiled from ear to ear and thanked him.

"No really," he insisted, "You are awesome."

He spent the rest of the morning telling me so. I smiled every single time.

After he comforted me at lunch time, I thought back to his words earlier this morning and realized that his compliments were mimicked affirmations that I constantly give my boys. They try something new and I am always quick to say, "You are amazing," "You are doing a fantastic job," and "I am so proud of you." He has learned how to affirm people and be kind. He has learned compassion and caring. He is a kind person.

This means so very much to me. Beyond all the alphabet letters, numbers, potty training and memorized animal species, this holds so much more weight for me.

My son is kind. Its evident in the things he says.

Ticker Tape Parade Worthy

2011-01-20T09:12:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I haven't blogged enough this month. Believe me, when I am running after my kids I always think, Man, I need to write about such and such later on tonight! But then later on tonight arrives and I am half asleep by 8PM. Really, these boys are working me hard throughout the day!

So I will set up a personal goal to blog about two helpful things for my Mommy friends, before the month is out. 1) Cold Medicines for Toddlers and 2) Discipline. I know, you can hardly contain your excitement. But these two topics have come up quite often in the bungalow this past year.

Enough on that for now.

Ahem. Drum roll please.......

Cubs and The Bear are potty trained.

Ta-DA!!!!

Cubs could have been potty trained months ago but I was just way too gosh darn tired to be consistent with it. And The Bear has this unbelievable fear of toilets so it took a while to convince him that potty training was a good idea.

This morning the boys went a good 4 1/2 hours without any accidents. They are wearing big boy underpants, informing me each time they have to go and I have deemed them, "TRAINED."

I was able to make carrot soup and fresh cornbread while they played and used their respective potties. This month is all about F R E E D O M. My boys are growing up and gaining more independence every day. I am so proud of them and relieved for J and I. We now only have one very tiny cute baby booty to worry about diapering. :)

Side note: I did notice that I composed a sentence mentioning food preparation and potty training all in one breath. Ick, I know. I can't believe some of the things I have caught myself saying since I became a Mom. Maybe I should compose a list? #1 would definitely be this gem from 2009: "Well, at least you ate your own poop and not someone else's."

I'll be busy the rest of this week getting things geared up for the boy's birthday party. I am also loading up pictures for a big ebay sale. I have never sold anything on ebay before, but there are things in my closet that can translate to easy cash and I am going to go for it!

Try to contain yourselves until next week for the informative, stomach-churning post about toddlers & cold medicine.

Search and Rescue

2011-01-09T10:54:00.000-08:00

Its that time of year again...time to clean up all the Christmas faradiddle lying about the house. But wait! Something is different this year...

Oh yes, Hurricane Cubs was loose in the house throughout this entire yuletide season. This means that I have to collect ornaments off of the tree, floors, and chairs. A few behind the couch, some in the tub, a few under his bed and two in his treasure box. Manger pieces mixed in the toy bins, Baby Jesus hanging out with T Rex and a plastic goat. Jackpot!!! Six ornaments behind the drum set. With the last discovered cache came the realization that pine needles had also trailed into random corners of the house. Ay yi yi. Looks to me like we'll be remembering this Christmas all year long with pine needle findings each month.

I'm happy Cubs loves Christmas time. The search and rescue operative commencing in early January? Not so much.

ABC, What Do I See?

2011-01-05T09:23:00.000-08:00

The Bear is right on the threshold of learning how to turn letters into words. Really, one of the most exciting moments of kid life. This book worm Mom is beside herself to share the joy of reading with my son. Just the sheer anticipation of all the imaginative worlds he will discover gets me a little teary eyed. I love make believe. I love stories. I love the wonder of books. My little guy is almost there.

This month I have decided to work on a series of special notecards to place around our home. To get Cubs involved, I'll make simpler ones for him to enjoy. Special Alphabet cards he can use for a letter hunt. The Bear will have Word cards taped to various objects and pieces of furniture. We'll hunt them down and use the words to make sentences and stories. (I know, I am a nerdy teacher to the core). The Bear loves hide and seek type games, he loves to search and discover. Playing this game will help him learn new sounds, words and how to connect things.

We will start out small. For example, I'll hide the letters B, E and D somewhere in his room. We'll hunt for them using verbal clues. Once we find them, we'll put them together to make a new card which will read, "Bed." Then we can tape it to his bed for a new hunt the following day. He'll have a hand in building all the words we use and will therefore have an easier time identifying them later.

Is it just me or is homeschool great?

This game will be lots of fun once we incorporate the boy's new mailboxes. Nothing fancy mind you, just two empty tin containers of Cafe Bustelo that we decorated. We are tying them to the tree out front and using it to correspond with everyone from Diego to the Swiss Family Robinson crew.

Mommy is pleased with this little game. It will entice the 3 year into further heights of learning and provide ample exercise for the rowdy 2 year old while also giving him a few basic challenges.

Lastly, I am contemplating saving all our letters in a scrap book of sorts for the boys to enjoy. Wouldn't it be great to have a book filled with letters addressed to you from Aslan, Robin Hood, Mike Mulligan, and Paul Bunyan?

Christmas Unwrapped

2011-01-04T10:39:00.000-08:00

Our vacation days are slowly dwindling down, soon it will be time to return to our little bungalow. I am looking forward to cozying back in for another year of motherhood with my ever growing brood of boys.

We had a lovely Christmas this year, albeit a scattered and strange one. We celebrated with my family on the 12th of December and with J's family on the 26th & 27th. The calender was slightly off with all the traveling and birthdays thrown into the mix. Making a concentrated effort to teach your preschoolers the Christmas Story is difficult when there are so many events crowding each day. And then of course the added dimension of having multiple preschool age children to instruct is quite challenging.

A deep desire of my heart is for my children to enjoy worshipping Jesus from an early age. Falling in love with God will be the greatest joy of their lives and I am excited to share in that with them. But how to impart such meaning into tiny hearts? I am always encouraged at BSF to pray for my boys and for their understanding of worship and the word. I believe its the most valuable thing I can do for them.

I am also finding other ways to teach my boys. History and tradition play a great part in this hunt and I am eager to establish both in my own little family. I am always on the lookout for special ideas for events or whimsical items that can be absorbed into our family traditions. I found a few this year that I would love to share with you!

I found this beautiful advent calender designed by Kurt Adler. I fell in love with the small wooden drawers that open each day to reveal a hand painted figurine from the Nativity. Each piece has a magnetic back and adheres to the painted backdrop. I love that I can share the Christmas Story with my boys a little bit at a time. Its so much more tangible for them at this age.
I also found this fantastic advent book. Designed by Jack & Kathy Stockman of Chicago, IL. This will definitely by considered a family heirloom for us. There are 25 beautifully designed pages, each with its own special door which opens up to reveal another piece of the Christmas Story. Our favorite door is fashioned after one of Frank Lloyd Wright's designs. You can find both the book and information about its design and history here.

Lastly, I don't have a photo of it, but I finally found an Advent wreath to call my own! I've been looking around for several years and never quite found one that "fit." This year I managed to find a simple pewter one with the lyrics of my favorite Christmas hymn inscribed around the band. O Come, O Come Emmanuel.

I am excited about these little additions to our traditions. More importantly, I am over the moon knowing that my boys are growing spiritually. I wonder what other spiritual treasures we will glean throughout the church calender this year.

We will be home within the week. The boys have made great memories with J's parents. Despite having the flu for the first few days of our visit, we really made the most of our time with them. I am still floating on the white fluffy cloud called, "I haven't fixed dinner in a week"... I'll be firmly ensconced there until Saturday. Did I mention that I managed to read six or seven books on my new kindle? Ahhh, joy. I feel rested and ready to return.

I'll be updating as much as I can this year with stories and projects and memories for my boys to look back on one day. Of course, several odes to both bungalow and garden will be included.

Happy New Year to you and yours. God Bless!

So long, farewell

2010-12-31T17:49:00.000-08:00

2010 was a very rough year for us. In fact, it was down right disheartening at times. Yet, the Lord was faithful to us and saw us through each rough moment and even saw fit to bless us with precious memories in the midst of our struggles. God is so very good.

I know many people are making their resolutions and taking time to reflect on their lives, today. I am not one for resolutions but I do love to reflect on all that was taken place this year.

Compared to last year: my house isn't any more organized or efficiently clean, most of my projects are still on the to do list, I inherited a panic disorder for a few months, my body is a bit flabbier, I have 8% more white hairs (ACK!) on my head, and I still haven't even come close to putting a nick on my "30 things to do before 30" list. Worst of all, I spent more days of 2010 sick than healthy. Ick.

And yet...and yet.....and yet...

Compared to last year: I read my Bible more, I love my husband more, I spent more time with my family, I gave life to another beautiful son that God blessed me with, I have another beautiful home birth experience under my belt, my garden survived its first complete year and I learned a lot about myself and my fears.

Best of all: I spent the better part of each day hugging, kissing, loving and affirming a squirmy, giggly passel of boys.

So I may not have a perfect house or a hot body or tons of money in the bank...believe me when I say that I am more than ok with my situation. I love my life. The juice stains, the cracker crumbs, the ENDLESS laundry (do you know how many socks reside in our bungalow?). The dog with WAY too much attitude, the crayon marks, the panic attacks from watching my death defying toddler all day, the heart attacks from listening to the other toddler say the most unbelievable things at times (read: "Mommy, this dragon is bigger than a penis"). Would I trade it all for a six pack and 3 extra hours of sleep every night?

No way.

Bring it on 2011. Bring it on.

Tis the Season

2010-12-06T19:42:00.000-08:00

Tis the Season for glorious things:

Celebrating babies...one miraculous one in particular, but we can also enjoy all the other babies, bundled in heavy blankets and forced to wear tiny Santa hats.

Drinking fancy holiday drinks, peppered with special topping like shaved chocolate or roasted espresso beans. Its the time of year when you are willing to go that extra mile to deck the halls of your coffee mug for the sake of your taste buds.

Teaching bright eyed little tots about the wonders of Christmas. From the common practice of tree light viewing from underneath its scraggly boughs to the not so tidy joys of eating one's first ever peppermint stick.

Receiving oodles of snail mail each day from loved ones across the map. I love when more cards arrive than junk mail magazines. And this phenomenon occurs only once a year-- wonderful, glorious, Christmas time.

Just a few pretty universal musings I'm sure many of your identify with, regardless of zip code.

But some of you need cold weather, snow, and a toasty fire to really feel like its Christmas.

Our Season takes place somewhere hot and muggy, which is not so universal. My sister and I married a pair of northern boys and for them tis the season of ambiguous weather that does not feel like Christmas at all. And yet it is Christmas, its our Christmas. Its our palm trees lit up with twinkle lights and bedecked in tinsel. Its our flip flops patterned with plaid and lined with shearling. Its how we roll this time of year.

Yet can I say for the record, that I only enjoy Christmas at home and in church? Its true. December in this town stinks. Nasty creatures emerge from under rocks this time of year, to get behind the wheel of their cars in the hopes of running over their fellow man with vulgar shouts and curses all for the sake of a 10% discount at some crummy bargain store. Yuck. I went on a "quick run" to the grocery store a few nights ago. I almost died three times in the process. I was flipped off more times than I can count for things like letting an elderly woman cross the parking lot in front of my car. Pretty gruesome. I must say that while I love the Season, I am not a fan of the location or the majority of people that live in it.

But Christmas at home with the family is lovely. Sure it may be hot outside, with the occasional freakish cold weather day bottoming out at 50 degrees, but inside our home its Christmas. Drippy Advent candles, mangers packed with cattle lowing and plastic dinosaurs attacking, fleece footie pajamas, and thankful hearts for the birth of our Savior.

I hope the Season brings you joy wherever you are, whether surrounded by palm or pine, sun or snow. Merry Christmas.

Dinosaurs

2010-11-27T15:04:00.000-08:00

The boys are on a major dinosaur kick. They LOVE all things dinosaur related. They love to play with plastic models, read books on the subject and have even memorized upwards of twenty scientific names (cretoxyrhina anyone?). They stomp, munch, and ROAR around the house...just like dinosaurs.

A few weeks ago I ordered a few more toy dinosaurs from a surplus sale online. These dinos were teen tiny ones, essentially baby dinosaurs for the larger ones the boys already own. I knew my boys would love this idea. The Bear loves to categorize things into shapes, colors, and types. Cubs loves animal babies and mommies, he is all about the relationship aspect of play! Double win.

The dinosaurs arrived yesterday. 24 tiny little dinosaurs oddly packaged in a very large cardboard box.

I should mention that cardboard boxes are really exciting. I have to remind you of that, because for some reason as we grow older, we silly adults forget the magic of cardboard.

I took a pair of scissors and a magic marker to the box. I made a tunnel for the boy's trains to pass through for delivery of the precious baby dinosaur cargo to expectant Mommy and Daddy dinosaurs. The boys went bonkers for this game! So did I. J and I are thinking of adopting in a few years and anytime I can get this idea across to the boys its a major plus. Although, as the Bear pointed out to me, sometimes dinosaur adoption can be tricky...

"No, Mommy. Baby Triceratops can't live with Mommy Tyrannosaurus Rex because she's a carnivore and Baby Triceratops is an herbivore."

Good point, Bear. Utopian dinosaur communities do not exist. Interesting that even though they love watching pansy versions of dinosaur shows on television which portray T-rex and Triceratops living in perfect harmony, the boys still have an innate understanding that when it comes to dinos, its eat or be eaten.

Well our game started and the boys began their imaginary play. A few overheard comments:

1) "Oh! My baby Pteranodon loves his Mommy Spinosaurus. They are eating fish together and reading a book." ~B

2) "Nice to meet you" -C introducing babies to their mommies.

3) "The pleasure is all mine"- B responding to C's introductions.

4) "Look out, its the Velociraptor. Take your leaves and run!" ~B to all the peaceful herbivores on the south end of the tunnel.

5) Cubby made a Triceratops bite a Stegosaurus. "OUCH" said the Stegosaurus. "NAUGHTY" reprimanded a nearby Spinosaurus. "I so sorry. I love you." responded the contrite Triceratops. "Its O-tay." said Cubby, the patient diplomatic supervisor of dinosaur relations.

This game continued for...drumroll please... AN HOUR AND A HALF. That's right folks, 90 minutes of blissful, peaceful, imaginative playtime.

At one point the Bear started matchmaking and introduced some of the single Mommy dinosaurs to a few lonely Daddy dinosaurs. He attributed J's characteristics to the Daddy dinos and my characteristics to the Mommy dinos. Here is one example...

"Mommy Microraptor this is Daddy Allosaurus. Daddy Allosaurus goes to bicycle school, he is amazing! Mommy Microraptor is making special cakes. She is going to hug you and clean your boogies."

SIDE NOTE: J rides a bicycle to school every day, hence the idea of "bicycle school."

Suddenly, the Bear had Mommy Microraptor and Daddy Allosaurus dialoging...

"Daddy Allosaurus?"

"Yes Mommy Microraptor?"

"Take out the trash."

"Ok"

Yet another example of how the boys have an innate understanding of life.

I'm back

2010-11-22T17:16:00.001-08:00

WHEW!!!

I don't think I have had a minute to myself since the last time I posted. My mom came over today and as she held the Babe and watched over the Bear and Cubs, I snuck off to the bathroom to pee. Alone. TMI? Sorry. But it was a monumental moment for me. I got to pee alone in the bathroom. Its been awhile since that happened, there is usually quite the crowd in there when I pee.

A few days ago, Cubs watched as I went. He noticed the anatomical differences and asked, with a concerned look on his face, about the whereabouts of my penis. "Nope. Mommy doesn't have one of those." He responded with great sadness, "oh no!!!" He pet my hand, gave me a little smile and walked away.

Privacy is a wonderful thing.

Anyways, I didn't sit down to post about my escapades in the bathroom.

Life has been busy, its true. 3 under 3 is just as crazy as it sounds, but oh the fun. I love my babies. I love that they love each other. I love their fingers, toes, giggles, bellies, and their long eyelashes. You know what I love most of all? That they are NOT triplets.

Being off bed rest is fantastic. A fire works worthy moment of my life. I am up and about, cleaning spaghetti off booster seats, changing diapers, breast feeding while doing my household chores, playing tickle monster, chasing toddlers. J grabbed me in the kitchen the other day and hugged me for awhile. "Its so great to have you back," he said.

I feel the same way.

This week, I am reading up on some home schooling books by Linda Dobson. They've been extremely helpful and I am learning so much about my little boys. I am also catching up on a few way laid projects. Once I am caught up on those, I'll be turning my sights back onto this blog. I'd really like to include more resources that have helped/are helping me manage the house and the kids. While this is still a space for recording these next few years for my boys to look back on and enjoy one day, I would like to provide something for my girlfriends that are reading this each week. :)

I'd love to write more but there is this tiny bundle propped up on a pillow next to me. He is squirming around and making the cutest noises. That sweet baby smell is also wafting up in a way that beckons this Mommy in a way she can't refuse. What deliciousness. Mommy out.

77

2010-11-04T12:22:00.000-07:00

He's here.

After 6 long weeks of bed rest and 77 hours of labor, he decided to make his big entrance. That sentence says so much about him...six weeks of "please, please, please, Mommy, can I come out and play?" And then when he gets the green light, he takes his sweet time. This has been duly noted in our parenting journals.

Most women have their own perspective on labor and their own pieces of advice/horror that they like to pass on to other expectant mothers. There are times when a friend comes to me for advice on their upcoming birth choices and its tempting to sit them down and talk their ears off about my own experiences. But really, how is that helpful? Especially when the advice/stories err on the side of horror? I typically advise to find the place where my friend feels the most support and safety. For me, that place is home and not a hospital.

We spent the first part of our labor in the hospital, where my labor dragged on and failed to progress. No surprise there. I hate hospitals. I hate needles. I hate drugs. They make me feel threatened. I also really hate having to explain myself and my birthing preferences to a nursing staff that only wants to help me in the ways they have been trained to help. It makes me feel almost bratty and ungrateful to say, "No IV, no this, no that, etc." It just adds to the stress of it all. The hospital itself was wonderful, but I just didn't fit there, its not what my body or my baby needed. I cried a lot. I missed my boys terribly. We ended up going home after 18 hours, still in labor and very frustrated.

Laboring at home took a while as well. Little boy was taking his sweet time readjusting, alternately letting me rest and then making me sick to my stomach. My body started feeling really exhausted as the hours dragged on, but being home made all the difference. I could eat food and keep up my strength. I could walk around without needles jabbing my veins. I could be with my boys.

Things finally picked up when I decided to stop thinking about labor. My mom took me to the ever wonderful garden center and bought me half the nursery. We came home and I set to work with J in the garden. It was only a matter of minutes before labor kicked in full swing.

"Pain" is always associated with labor. At the hospital, someone came in to check on me every hour and a half, one of the first questions they always asked was, "What is your pain level." They would roll their eyes when I said, "zero" or "I don't think of it as pain." (Again, stuff like this made me feel like a huge pain in the ass to them). At home, no one said the word. I stuck the concept up on the shelf and let the contractions do their thing. Are contractions comfortable wonderful joyous things? Of course not. Contractions are awful, but they are getting me somewhere I desperately want to be at in order to reach my end goal which in the course of 60 hours has transferred from BIRTH to SLEEP.

We labored quietly and intensely until it was time to push. Like his brother Cubs, this little guy had his hand up by his face and refused to move it. Needless to say, moving him through my cervix hurt like hell. He has a bruise on his arm to as a little badge from our battle of the wills. I won't go into details, but I had a very rough 15-20 minutes of convincing my son to drop his arms and go through my cervix. Once he did, he was out in two pushes. My midwife hollered for J's mom and my parents and sister to "GET OVER HERE FAST!" so that they wouldn't miss his big entrance. J and I birthed the baby in an inflatable tub in our living room. I wanted to pass out after he came, I was so bone tired. I also felt amazed that he held on until 2:11 AM so that he could be born at 37 weeks and 2 days, just like his two older brothers. Creepy little perfectionists that they are...

The Babe weighed in at 6 lbs 14 oz. although today he weighs in at 6lbs 6 oz since he is BMing like a champ! We think he looks just like the Bear. Cubs refuses to leave his side. He wants to hold him all the time and lets out the sweetest, "No, no, no, MY BABY" when someone comes to take the Babe away.

My favorite moments of our first day together (not including moments that involved sleeping or doughnuts with pink icing) have been the quiet, still ones. Sitting in bed with all three of my boys lined up at my side watching Speed Racer, their little bodies quietly breathing in and out together. What a precious moment....God knows all the other ones from here on out won't be anything like this first one.

My in-laws leave Monday and it will be back to the old routine plus one, for me. Three under three. Lord have mercy. I have decided to concentrate all my thoughts on what to bake during nap time. Something with enough chocolate to get me through the week!

MIL to the rescue!

2010-10-28T11:28:00.000-07:00

My hubby is on his way to the airport right now to pick up his Mama. We dressed the boys up in matching polos, washed their faces, and packed a bit of entertainment for the 40 minute drive up. They are so excited that Grandma is coming for a visit. SO AM I!

My mom has been helping us 4-5 days a week while J has picked up the remaining time slots. Everyone is tired. Everyone needs a break. We are in the last days of bed rest but they are of course, the most difficult. My MIL is coming just in time! Not only does she get to spend time with our kids---playing with them and getting to know them more---but J and I can regroup and rest a bit before #3 arrives. Hallelujah! I am so thankful that she's almost here.

Click, click, click

2010-10-21T13:37:00.000-07:00

What a turn around!!!

In the days since my scrooge-like Mrs. Rochester musings, stuff has come together!

People, I am talking both major and minor things that have made this bed ridden mopey mommy quite quite happy!

Lets start with the major.

#1 My darling husband called the electrician, scheduled an appointment and arranged for a bit of magic to take place while I stayed at my Mom’s house. These are electrical projects we have needed to finish since moving in over a year ago. He had them fix our dining room lighting, we are now the proud owners of a working light switch! (Everyone together now, “oooohhhh” “ahhhhh”). Then he had them rewire a few things in our bathroom and we now have a working light switch PLUS working sockets by the medicine cabinet so that I can now fix my hair in the bathroom in front of a mirror. WOO-HOO!!!! What a difference these simple fixes make in our every day lives.

#2 My mother sent her maid over here on Tuesday. E is definite material for an in depth case study, as she is without a doubt one of the odder people I have encountered in my life. She is on the skinny side and her face is an interesting mixture of vulnerability and ferociousness….quite baffling, really. She comes into our house looking like she has had about 6 cans of red bull and yet her first request is for Cuban coffee. She slaps us around with questions and demands, kicks us out of the house and we get into our car feeling breathless. Seven hours later we come home to an amazingly clean, fresh smelling house. She lets us know how horrible everything was before and how much we need her. Then, after a whirlwind walk through of our home and a quick nod she shoots out the door again. I am currently trying to come up with a super hero name for her.

#3While E the maid cleaned our home, my Mama took the boys and I to Home Depot. More rejoicing. I bought shelving for the baby’s things, something I feared would not happen this year or possibly even into next summer. I also purchased a few terra cotta pots for my plants and all the seeds for my late fall planting. JOY! Lastly, I scored the paint swatches for our upcoming hallway painting job.

#4 Cubby is obsessed with using the potty. Mother or two toddlers overwhelmed with pride and happiness!

#5 My grandmother graciously offered to launder all of the baby’s things for me AND she folded every last item AND she used a very nice lavender scent.

#6 My MIL is coming for a much needed FOUR day visit. This gives my mom a break and a chance for my kids to play with their other Grams. I know she’ll take good care of them while I finish my last days of bed rest. Added bonus: She may be here for the birth.

click. click. click.

That was the sound of my life starting to snap back into place again.

Minor things that also boosted the joy of my week

#7 Arrival of delayed packages. Things I ordered a while back that finally made an appearance this week. Please see:

Delicious Jeffrey Campbell wedges in green leather. I heart you. I even heart the box you came in which sported a cross word puzzle, providing a good 30 minutes of entertainment.

#8 Arrival of more baby clothes/baby shower gifts such as this organic kimono shirt from Baby Soy. Yup, my baby is 100% edible, organic tee and all.

#9Arrival of Mark Twain’s Autobiography Volume 1. Ol’ Clemmy made them promise not to publish this collection until 100 years after his death. We celebrated the centenary of his death this past April and now, the first 800 pages of mischief has been published and lives on my nightstand. Many thanks to The Mark Twain Project for graciously coinciding the release of MT’s book with my bed rest.

#10 Garden blooms peaking through my window. Thanks for the extra joy, Lord.

And so it is. Things are quickly falling into place. I even ordered the birthing supplies for our home birth--- a gutsy move I know, but with each day that passes we get closer and closer to accomplishing another successful home birth!

Ahhhh, baby bottles and paint swatches. A lovely sight.

Now that my nesting psychosis is satisfied I can look forward to birthing a beautiful baby boy in our home. Before you know it, my blog will leave the realm of bed rest bitching and back into the world of toddlers, babies, baking, gardening and writing. Oh, happy day!

Mrs. Rochester

2010-10-18T16:30:00.001-07:00

I need to nest.

And I can't.

I have quite the long list of both small and large home projects that have needed finishing for some time now, and there ain't a darn thing I can do about it.

Ugh.

Its like being in a huge shopping mall and suddenly realizing that you have to pee more than you have ever needed to pee in your life, but there is no bathroom in sight. No bathroom, no mall employees, not even a giant map of the mall in sight. Your bladder is screaming at you and those giant planter boxes with the fake palm trees start looking mighty tempting. Oh, the sheer agony of it.

I know this sounds crazy, but when your hormones have reached a fever pitch and you've been trapped in bed for weeks on end, you really start feeling that same sort of desperation.

Who wants to come over for a visit?

Just kidding, I wouldn't make you suffer through my company when I am this insane.

How insane you ask?

Well, here are a few of the smaller examples. Right now I am trying my hardest not to rip out our bathroom tile with my fingernails. I am concentrating on leaving the broken light pendants over the kitchen counter as they are, as I have heard several times that electrocution is not desirable while pregnant. I am studiously ignoring the baseboards and trim around our doorways and in the hallway, they have never bothered me before but at the moment they are mocking me with their tiny black smudges.

Yeah.

Like I said, just give it another week. I'm about to get Mrs. Rochester crazy up in our attic, its only a matter of time.

He always knows

2010-10-16T12:20:00.001-07:00

Today I felt more than a little down. I got out my sewing and watched Amelie while the boys napped. That movie always makes me want to buy fresh vegetables, wear a red dress and reorganize my closet. It also resolves my decision to never ever live in France and to never ever own a garden gnome.

J walked in a little before noon and announced that he would be taking me to the garden center today to buy a few plants. I smiled at him.

We took off after nap time, boys strapped in with toy dinosaurs grasped in each of their hands. We put the windows down and drove away. The Bear and I pointed out every construction vehicle we spotted on the way down. Cubby complained about the wind whipping around his face.

The boys helped pick out flowers and carry them to the cart. I love when we buy flowers with the boys. They always want to help out and they look adorable walking around the flower stalls, grabbing random pots and taking them back to our little wagon.

Being around all those flowers and plants soothed me and made me feel better again. I felt starved for sunshine this week, I'm so glad we got to soak it in together, even if only for a few minutes.

While J and Cubby stood in line to pay for our new additions, the Bear and I strolled carefully around the display of succulents. We figured out which plants had stripes and which had spiked ridges. We looked for ones with blossoms and ones with colored leaves. We walked around classifying plants for a few minutes, every so often the Bear would look up at me and say, "I missed you, Mom."

We returned home happy and smiling. I had a few more minutes left in me, so I quickly whipped up the final ingredient for our perfect afternoon together. A nice fruit smoothie with raspberries and peaches. I snapped a great photo of my two smoothie hounds, J and Cubby, sitting together in the nursery rocking chair. Cubby is tainted a sweet shade of pink, his face is sticky and his fingers are locked in a possessive hold around his cup of smoothie. J is balancing Cubby on his knee and holding his own smoothie glass in the other hand. They make quite the pair and I love how everything in the photo is so particular to who they are and the way they interact together.

I am back in bed now. The baby is moving around, trying to settle down again after the electric shock of smoothie he received ten minutes ago. We opened the windows to let the breeze in and I feel better knowing that in a little while J will walk out into my garden and plant flowers for me.

He always knows just what to do.

Brag Time

2010-10-14T21:03:00.001-07:00

Two little snippets of my week that really made me pause and gave me joy. I'm sure you can guess where those little snippets came from.

Being on bed rest is incredibly difficult and having to do it while you are in the midst of raising two toddlers is AWFUL. There are so many things I am missing out on right now, so many formative, teachable moments that I want to be there for! In my motherly pride I sometimes feel like I have to be there every second to teach them or the opportunity will be lost. But in the past weeks, my boys have kept on growing and learning from the people around them. Wonderful people. My husband and my mother in particular. They step in and guide, correct, teach, and love them. I am so grateful for them, its a hard lesson for this control freak to learn but I am most definitely learning it.

1) My one break each week is on Wednesday mornings. The prison doors are opened and I am allowed a few hours out of the house for BSF. I look forward to this all week long. J attends on Monday nights and the boys attend their class as well. The Bear LOVES his teacher, Miss D. He asks for her everyday and wants to go to her "house" (classroom) in order to play with her and his new friends.

Now I am just flat out going to brag on my child right now and I don't feel bad about it for a minute. My boys are gorgeous. The Bear looks like an angel and now that he is talking, he is melting hearts everywhere. I can't tell you how many people have come up to me since we started BSF asking if I am his mother and after the affirmative reply, they start telling me how much they love him. (Cubby gets his share too, by the way). The usual comment is, "He is so unbelievably sweet and kind!" When I drop him off at his class, he bounds in with joyful greetings to his friends and teachers, "Hi! How's it going? My name is___! I missed you Miss D, you are amazing!" I watch his teachers and assistants crumble to the ground with huge smiles on their faces and outstretched arms. He is just so gosh darn sweet, it almost hurts.

This week when I came to pick him up from his class the teacher stopped me at the door. She proceeded to deliver the following message:

"Your son is just so incredible. We love him so much. He is the youngest one here by quite a bit but he is far more verbal than most of the other children and everything he says is so sweet and loving. He listens to all of our directions and follows them the first time we give them. He participates in everything, he sings all the songs, and he is a joy to be with. He means so much to us all."

The little man in question appeared as she finished speaking and said, "Thanks for everything, have a nice day!"

You can imagine the pride. Oh my, the pride and the love and the overwhelming feeling of... well how else can I say it but, "THANK GOD HE TAKES AFTER HIS DAD!!!"

I know he is a truly unique kid. He has a wonderful heart and I really am proud of him. His teacher's words were such a gift of encouragement to me as well. Motherhood is so tough and these little moments when someone stops you and says how great your kid is... mean the world.

***Side note: The Bear definitely had his moments of horror last year. I must keep it real and tell you that he DREADED his first few weeks at BSF. He did not run in on day one tooting butterflies and spreading magic everywhere. In fact, on the third week, he was so upset about being in class that he exorcist VOMITED all over the carpet and managed to nail a few children standing nearby in the process. I cannot tell you how awful it was walking down the hall and suddenly spotting the children's director waiting for me by his classroom door with her arms folded across her chest, left eyebrow slightly arched and a definite "we need to talk" look etched on her face.

Thankfully, he adjusted a few weeks later and Mr. Sunshine has managed to wipe the projectile incident from everyone's minds with his charm.

2) My Cubs is a sweet boy too. He really loves people. He loves hugging and kissing us. He loves smiling and waving. He has his share of devoted fans at BSF as well. Its those huge blue eyes, beautiful smile and incredible magnetic charisma. Really, he is quite the delicious bundle of cuteness.

However.

Ahem.

Cubby is a passionate man in other directions as well. He is quite aggressive when it comes to getting what he wants. Be it a cookie or a toy car or my attention, the boy will use anything and everything at his disposal to get what he wants, including dead body weight and his teeth. I noticed his behavioral issues early on and knew we had a long hard road ahead of us. J and I had a come to Jesus talk and we decided that we would deal with this, head on. It would not be fun. We would probably want to quit halfway and just let him be. He is after all only a baby, right? But I knew what would happen... the eventual product of that line of thinking. I had a few of them in my preschool class. Miniature bullies, little tyrants that threw tantrums all the time and hurt their peers. We decided to be proactive and work hard with our boy. We believed in him, we knew he could conquer this and walk away a much better person.

Affirmation of this decision came a few weeks after our conversation. Cubby, at 14 months of age, BIT a five month old baby in the nursery because he wanted the baby's rattle. HORROR. I can not even begin to describe the HORROR. When your child is the biter, people look at you differently, they judge your kid. It really sucks. My heart felt so heavy because I know Cubs and how loving he truly is. I knew the biting stemmed from other frustrations.

As the weeks progressed he started biting his brother all the time. He started hitting too. I wanted to cry. It got much worse before it got any better. I wanted to quit. But we didn't, we just kept loving him and disciplining him. It was exhausting.

In the past few months he has improved drastically. No coincidence that this occurred alongside his increased capacity for speech and communication. Now that he is talking much more, Cubby has other ways of expressing himself. But beyond that, the frustration and aggression have turned a 180. I am so proud of him. Our greatest moment of encouragement came this evening at my parent's home. The Bear and Cubby were watching Cars in the family room while I was in the kitchen getting some water. I heard an ominous THWACK! and the familiar sound of the Bear crying in surprise and hurt. He came running to me, rubbing his head, huge tears rolling down his cheeks. I began to comfort him, "Did he hit you?" I asked. Before I could even look up, Cubby appeared, concern and remorse etched on his face. I didn't get a chance to scold him. He reached out and rubbed his brother's head and said repeatedly, "I'm sorry."

One small moment that means a mountain of progress for us as parents and for him as a person. I am so proud of him. He is listening, he is learning, he is growing as a person. That was without a doubt, the single most encouraging event in our parenting of Cubby. I can't say it enough, after all of his hard work and ours, he did it! And I am so gosh darn proud of him.

Dragons and Jane Austen

2010-10-11T09:46:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, in the late afternoon, I settled back into bed with all of my pillows and sewing patterns for Cubby's costume. I took out my recently arrived Netflix envelope and prepared to watch the latest adaptation of Sense and Sensibility. Really, its medicine for my soul.

I hit play and settled back, needle poised to begin the first set of stitching on a certain adorable puppy costume for a little boy with beautiful blue eyes, when I heard my bedroom door open and the distinct shuffle of fat baby toes on hardwood floor. That same charming little boy with big beautiful blue eyes waddled in with a heart melting, "Hi Mama!" and proceeded to crawl up into bed with me. I kissed his toes, cheeks, belly, ears, and he giggled and kissed me back. He is 20 months old now and the conversations are starting to get longer and cuter. When he shuffles into my room, clad only in a diaper and covered in some kind of cookie residue... oh! I really could eat him up.

Then the almost three year old announced his arrival with a shout of "MOM YOU ARE BACK!" He crawled into bed and settled next to his brother, his eyes glued to the laptop on my bed and the small scissors on top of the fabric. Hmmm, which to grab first?

"Mom, can we watch the dragon monster trucks?"

Ahem. My apologies, Willoughby. Excuse me, Mrs. Dashwood. Pardon me, Captain Margaret.

My boys like to watch monster trucks, construction vehicles and nascar races on youtube with J. Especially late in the evening and particularly if one of them is sick, teething, or has just vomited. Its a comfort thing I guess, the way Jane Austen is for me. I had yet to witness the phenomenon that apparently is "Dragon Monster Truck," but how could I say "no" to those little faces? Besides, J had been with them all day and was clearly exhausted and in need of a break, no matter how brief. He gave me instructions on where to find this current trend of awesome which has managed to score a 10 on the Toddler Richter Scale while I've been on bed rest.

So I went from a potential half hour with Elanor and Marianne, struggling with matters of economy and the heart to this....

Dragon Monster Truck

You will note after following this link that youtube also has several other variations posted on the sidebar. We watched those as well. The boys let out several "Ooohs" and "Ahhs" as this weird giant dinosaur thing mauled cars, shot lighter fluid out of its nostrils and occasionally torched a mangled car. Similar to the "Ooohs" and "Ahhs" of their Mommy when she watches Colin Firth emerge from a cold lake on an English country estate, handsomely costumed as the one and only Fitzwilliam Darcy and nearly identical to the riveted attention she gives Ciaran Hinds when he utters those pained whispers as Colonel Wentworth, "you pierce my soul! I am half agony, half hope!" They were that into it. I am out to sea when it comes to this particular area of fascination for the boys. Trains, I get. Construction vehicles, ok...they make cool things. I can feign enough interest to get by. But enormous cars built to look like mythological creatures whose sole purpose in life is to maul, eat and destroy other vehicles in the most violent way possible? Hmm, not so much.

But I did love watching them as they watched. They don't move when this dragon thing is on the screen. I can trace their eyelashes with my finger, place little kisses all other their cheeks. Stare at them for 15 minutes straight, imagining where their jawlines will be one day and imprinting all of their chins in my memory. What utter deliciousness!

Its naptime now at the bungalow and I finally have a chance to watch this new adaptation of Sense and Sensibility. All will be well in my little Jane Austen world. Everyone will read the right lines, custom and manners will be oozing off the screen and more importantly, Elanor will not shoot lighter fluid out of her nostrils at Edward for engaging himself to Lucy Steele.

But make no mistake, the minute my angels wake up I will gladly turn off the film for another round of Dragon Monster Truck.

Wishing for the Garden

2010-10-09T07:20:00.000-07:00

My garden looks sad. There are a few empty patches scattered about that look untidy and almost sick. I want to roll up my sleeves, go to the store and buy up new seed stock and have a wonderful day working on my lovely little piece of earth. I wish wish wish wish wish I could. I miss it so very much.

Instead, I am indoors and in my bed. We opened some windows today and I am enjoying the light breeze in our sunny yellow bedroom. Cubby's Halloween costume is in its beginning stages and I have moved into a phase of being s l i g h t l y depressed. I don't think I'll plummet into the "depths of despair," very little chance of such melodrama when just a few feet from my door I can hear the pounding of two small dinosaurs stomping down the hallway. The Bear hopped onto my bed this morning and asked how I was doing. He told me he missed me and chatted about his trains while patting my arm and giving me kisses. He tied a string around my heart and let it float up to the clouds like a balloon.

Its really hard to be on bed rest when you have two little ones. They need me 100%. I need them 200%. I miss taking complete care of them and my home. But today I realized, bed rest is also much easier because they are around. Every time I start feeling really down about being stuck in bed, only a few minutes will pass before I hear little footsteps coming to a pause by my bedroom door. Then the slow, strained turning of the doorknob just before the door is carefully nudged open to reveal a small face with a big smile and happy blue eyes. I love watching them scramble on my bed, shouting happy greetings and giving me all their kisses. Mmmmm.

It's impossible to be depressed when those visits occur so frequently throughout the day.

And yet, for all that happiness, I still really miss my garden. The day I hit full term, I am going to buy three new clay pots and a bundle of plants. I'll pick out packets of snapdragon and larkspur seeds and set to planting them. I'll try and make it beautiful for my new little son. And I am absolutely positive that while I'm working, I'll have frequent visits from my two boys. They'll burst into the garden, full of energy and arms loaded with their gardening tools, ready to help Mama with her flowers.

Sweet Pea

2010-10-04T16:18:00.001-07:00

The Bear: "Mom, how are you doing with me, Mom?"

Me: "Pretty good sweet pea"

B: "Mom, what's a sweet pea? What's that?"

M: "You are a sweet pea"

B: "oh"

pause

B: "MOM, accuse me, MOM?"

M: "Yes?"

B: " I doughnut want to be a sweet pea, I want to be a stegosaurus."

M: "Ok, you can be a stegosaurus."

B: "What about you, Mom?"

M: "Well, if you are a stegosaurus and you are my baby, then I'm a Mommy Stegosaurus."

B: "No Mom. You not a Mommy Stegosaurus"

M: "No? Well then what am I?"

B: " you are my sweet pea."

Cranky

2010-10-03T10:04:00.000-07:00

One of my most vivid and early memories in life include my grandfather. I don't even have to close my eyes to remember it, I can feel it even as I type.

I'm sitting high up in the large mango tree that once grew in the backyard of their old home. The roughly textured bark is scratching the backs of my skinny legs and some grainy pieces of wood are clinging to my ruffly white socks. I am wearing a sunny dress and laughing up at my Abuelo. He is wearing a light blue shirt, a few pens in the front pocket, khaki pants and his tinted eye glasses. We are both covered in the sticky sweetness of mango juice and the warmth of sunlight. He is laughing and telling me a vulgar story about himself as a child growing up in the Cuban countryside. He used to climb up mango trees and wait for his sisters to pass by, then he would poop on them. He is laughing hard and so am I. The mangoes are very sweet and very sticky. He is full of life. If he was ornery back then, I did not know it.

Abuelo is a storybook kind of man. Its true that you can barely understand what he says, whether in English or in Spanish. He always sounds slightly drunk and very crazy.

He's worked like a dog all his life to provide for his family and would give the shirt off his back to anyone who asked.

He loves land. He lives for planting, growing, cultivating. He is a very simple man in that respect.

He is a terrible flirt and a jokester, a sneaky prankster, a mischievous little boy for life. He loves nothing better than a crass joke and a good Benny Hill rerun.

He is a fighter. He left Cuba as a young man with only a 4th grade education to his name. He went back to school. He failed test after test for years, but kept on fighting and worked his way to becoming the Chief Plumbing Inspector for the city. No small feat.

He stands up for justice. He was thrown off a bus in New Jersey back in the 60s when he stood up and gave his seat to a black woman.

He is a hopeless romantic and the patron saint of lost causes. Especially when it comes to animals, he sees their hearts and souls. Nothing tugs at his heart strings more than an animal in need.

These are things I'll always remember him for. When the boys grow up and ask about him, these are the things I will tell them about. I'm proud of him.

Several years ago, Abuelo had to sell his land. He buried a large part of himself when he walked off it for the last time. It rips my heart in half to think of the great change that came over him. Losing land is no small thing. I don't think many people can appreciate it these days... we are largely unconnected to land. We don't really care about it and we move from place to place with such frequency that the idea of legacy has been lost. Abuelo was his land. His heart lived in those groves and his blood marked that piece of earth as his very own. He lost it and was never the same again.

We worried for a few years that he had developed some form of dementia. He had become so angry and harsh, forgetful and frustrated. Living only a few blocks away, I felt the brunt of that frustration and anger. At times I could not recognize him, his words had become so hurtful. He was just so damn cranky, all day, every day. We took him to a neurologist, fearing the worst and hoping for a quick prescription of happy pills.

The Doctor diagnosed him with Grumpy Old Man Syndrome.

He's fine. No neurological problems. He is simply old and frustrated and angry.

Early last week they had to open up his chest and change the battery on his pace maker. He isn't allowed to drive for quite some time and has been given strict directions regarding his care. He was hopping mad for two days before falling into a depression. My poor Abuela is trapped in the house with him, nursing him back to health while he heaps his bad attitude on her.

Today we finally went over for a visit. I needed to make sure a few days had passed so that he would be up for a visit from his great grandsons. I only wanted to stay half an hour. I thought the kids would drain him.

Just the opposite.

The boys rambled in with happy shouts and shrieks. The smiles stretched off my Abuelitos faces. We ended up staying close to two hours. The boys played, laughed and ate like little kings. Abuelo's mood improved with every passing minute. He told a few jokes, smiled, and kissed them often. He was sweet and crazy and lovable.

His sudden bout of improved health reminded me that my boys are his legacy. He has firmly planted his roots, he worked hard to do that for us all and now they are immovable, stubborn and sprawling every which way. My sweet little boys are his bright green leaves. They are his burst of life and renewed energy. They give him joy and lift him from the depression of old age and illness. He feels that they are his to grow and cultivate and nurture, which gives him a sense of purpose, a rare gift at this point in his life.

When the boys are with him, the cranky old man is put away for a time, I see him laughing again. I feel warm sunlight and sticky mango juice all over again. I am happy to see their small hands encased in his work worn and wrinkled palms. I hope he teaches them everything he can about trees, land, justice, animals, and hard work. He can keep the pooping from trees stories to himself.

Still growing

2010-10-02T06:58:00.000-07:00

"Hey Mom, look at this! Its a triceratops with the body of a tuba so its a Tubaceratops"

"Come with me, take my hand, and I will rescue you."

"The word of our God stands FOREVER!!! Isaiah 40:8"

"God made me. He is amazing. God made you. He is amazing. God made the rain. Rain is so much fun!"

"Mom, what are these called? Hash browns? Oh yummy. I love hash browns. They are new favorite."

"When can we go to Ms. Debbie's house again? I want to play with cars and Jesus"

These are all phrases popping out of the Bear's mouth this past week. I had foolishly imagined that he would regress into despair and nothingness as a result of my being on bed rest. But no, he flourishes instead, running into my room every hour or so to chat with me. He asks me every day if we can "go to Ms. Debbie's house." This is his way of asking for Bible Study Fellowship. He loves the children's programs and thinks his teacher lives in their classroom... thus, "Ms. Debbie's house." Ms. Debbie is always laughing and smiling when I come to pick him up at the end of BSF. She tells me that even though he is by far, the youngest in his class, he is the group organizer and social director of the bunch. He talks more than any of the other boys and asks nonstop questions throughout the morning that have her in stitches. Questions like: "Hey, Ms Debbie, what's the problem? Are you ok? What are you doing? Can I play with you Ms. Debbie? Ms. Debbie, follow me and I will rescue you! This place is amazing! I just can't believe it!"

He has learned his Bible verses each week and is eager to talk about all the things God made and all the great things God does. I am amazed to realize that my son and his soul are relating to God and that he is already developing a relationship with him.

This morning, I sat down to breakfast with the boys and began my daily Bible study. The Bear peered over his bowl of cereal and said, "oh wow, Mom. Is that your Bible?" We talked about it for a few minutes. Just an hour later he came into his room (don't worry, I was "bed resting" on one of the boy's beds), pulled out his Bible and said, "time for Bible study!" Incredible to see him imitate so much of what the adults in his life do. (Note: He has also picked up on a few things that are not so cute and have absolutely nothing to do with the Bible and everything to do with me being impatient and angry while driving through traffic).

Cubby has also flourished these past two weeks. Most of his growing has been in his cheeks and abdominal area, the boy is literally eating us out of house and home. We know another large growth spurt is coming since his pattern is usually to grow plumper and then shoot up and thin out a few weeks later. He'll be catching up to the Bear pretty soon!

I knew Cubs would develop a larger vocabulary faster than the Bear did by virtue of being the second born with the advantage of a companion. But I did not anticipate the variety of this vocabulary. He has started picking up words the Bear is only now starting to use, words like triceratops, excavator, apple core, cement mixer." Its hard to understand what he says, but its still there.

What has touched me most about Cubs in the past weeks is his ability to notice people other than himself in a deeply sensitive, caring way. This is unusual for his age, rather than be completely self absorbed, Cubs has keenly felt my frustration, boredom and occasional sadness. He worries about me. He comes to visit me in the room and touches my arms, plays with my hair, tries to comfort me. Cubs finds great joy in simply sitting by my side for a few quiet moments. I treasure this aspect of him which is so inherently natural to him. I never taught him how to feel for others, its something he gets from his daddy.

Cubs continues to bond with the Babe every day. He rests his head on my abdomen and chats away. He pets the baby belly and says "I love you," occasionally he is rewarded with a response kick. I have a feeling that Cubs and the Babe will share a very special bond. They are already friends and have yet to meet.

Now an update on the baby. He is just as restless as I am! He wants me up out of bed, walking around and soothing him with that rocking sensation. But he has been naughty and will not be rewarded for it! So I've patiently sat through the days, feeling his persistent kicks and karate chops, clear evidence that he takes after his mommy in many ways and smiling at the thought of holding him in a few weeks. (Did you hear that kiddo? Mama said WEEKS and not DAYS).

So for everyone who has called us, prepared meals, visited our home, watched our children or sent emails and texts, thank you for your words of encouragement and support. Your prayers have meant so very much to us. We are here... still growing in words, waistlines and love.

Bed Restless

2010-09-26T07:21:00.000-07:00

Yup, we are grounded. Baby was naughty, tried to come early, and now we've been grounded.

I am an extremely active person in the sense that I love keeping up with my boys, cleaning my house, bible study, organizing the produce co-op, and I always have a project or two on hand. Suddenly each one of those things (minus bible study!) are off the plate. My midwife gently scolded me when she came by on Friday, "bed rest means you must stay on your back." Blech.

It hasn't even been a week and I have already watched season 2 of 30 Rock, every single premiere on ABC, read 4 books and finished the Bear's halloween costume which I made while watching 30 Rock. My legs and arms are restless. My head hurts. My body hurts from not moving it. The babe isn't happy either, he keeps kicking me in a way that clearly states, "get up and walk around so that I can be rocked to sleep." The boys are also breaking into my bedroom every five to ten minutes looking for me. The Bear's usual greeting, "I miss you Mom!" is breaking my heart. I can hear them running and playing just outside my door and I miss them terribly.

I think depression, frustration, resentment and anger could come quite easily if I let it overpower me. So I am focusing on the positive, or at least... making every possible attempt to do so. Having the discipline of BSF is extremely helpful right now, every day I get to delve into Isaiah and really soak it in for an hour or so. Then I take the time to pray that God would ease the onslaught of the above mentioned feelings. Then I typically cry and eat a couple of oreos (I feel that this is an essential component of processing the word of God). I cry because I am thankful that the baby and I are healthy and that I am starting bed rest at 32 weeks and not at 14 weeks. I cry because I miss my boys and my day to day life. I cry because I actually have a minute to process the absolute insanity that has been our household in the year 2010. Mostly I cry because God has protected us and seen us through each day.

So what's the plan now? I have a good 4 weeks of bed restlessness ahead of me. First of all, I am trying to catch up one some writing projects. Hooray! Secondly, I am finishing a lot of latent sewing/craft projects I've had laying around the house for the past year. Also up on the chopping block, a very very long reading list and an even longer movie marathon list. One day next week I am planning a Gone With The Wind day. Out of boredom I will make a dress out of curtains while I watch the South disappear into cinematic history.

Catching up on my correspondence also seems like a viable option. Please see: FUNTASTIC postcards of classic Penguin titles. I really feel like someone manufactured these just for me.

(Can you tell that I have been locked in my room for a week with only myself to think about?) I plan on filling these out over the next few weeks and bombarding people in my address book with them.

Lastly, when my brain is too fried to do anything else, I shall peruse my favorite stores and look longingly at all the cute fall things that I won't be able to wear this year. I already found one drool worthy item. Anthropologie and Mondo from Project Runway fell in love and made a baby and I want to wear it!

yes please

These are all things that keep me distracted and somewhat happy. Really, all I want to do is jump out of bed and go wrestle with my boys. I want to take them to the Zoo and to the Farmer's Market. I want to bake Pumpkin bread and give it away to friends and family.

Mostly, I want to not think about myself right now. Which is impossible because...that's basically what bed rest is, thinking about yourself and your little baby nugget.

4 weeks and counting.........

Taking a Moment

2010-09-09T14:10:00.000-07:00

There comes a point each day when I need to just stop and take a moment. This usually occurs between the hours of 3 and 5PM (aka The Waiting For Daddy Zone). The boys are usually tired from all the activities of the day, on their way to getting seriously hungry for dinner regardless of any grapes or banana slices consumed at this juncture, and they are usually running around in circles shouting, yelling or making animal noises NONSTOP because they are just so dang riled up about seeing their Daddy soon. The dog is typically uncooperative as well, but with far more attitude since he is apparently still trying to usurp me as J's wife.

Today, we finished a rather long potty training session in our small bathroom. It was a half hour filled with many questions and a lot of giggling. Questions my eldest child posed ranged from:

"Where did my poop go?"

to the more anatomically advanced musing of:

"Mommy, where is your penis?"

After a delicately phrased answer to the latter question I received a look of genuine pity from my nearly 2 year old. His face distinctly read: poor Mommy, getting fatter every day and to top it all off, she has no penis.

Once we finished potty training, everyone washed their hands and scattered to different areas of the house. The Bear hopped madly down the hall and proclaimed himself to be a bouncing bullfrog. Cubs picked up a plastic wiffle bat and ran for the front room window which affords a view of the street and the first glimpse of Daddy on his bicycle. He likes to bang on the window sill with his baseball bat while waiting for Daddy's bicycle to glide into view.

Crumbs, splatters of juice, books, animal flashcards, phonics games, crayons and matchbox cars littered the floor. Cubs screamed at the top of his lungs with joyful anticipation while the Bear continued to jump loudly up and down the hall while shouting the same phrases over and over in that shrill toddler tone of voice. I tried to sit down but then a certain little someone decided that he'd rather be rocked some more by the sway of my walk and so promptly kicked me in the ribs until I give in, stood up and walked around for him. (Demanding little bugger).

I mentally ticked off the minutes until I heard the side gate swing open and the sound of J's cheerful voice calling out to his sons. I knew that as soon as he walked in the house would erupt into further depths of chaos until he gathered them in his arms and swept them outdoors to play for awhile.

Then I would get to clean the floors, start getting dinner together, prepare the night activity and/or the bathtub for their post dinner hose down. I usually get started the minute the door shuts behind my boys. Today, however, I dropped into the rocking chair and let out a huge breath. I looked around at the disaster zone in my family room. I felt the tension in my back and sides. Then I felt my little one kick me again. I closed my eyes and took a moment to really appreciate the amount of energy it took my kids to destroy everything. The cracker bits, the juice stains on my couch, the endless puzzle pieces. Thank God they are healthy, active and able to make such glorious messes.

I took an extra little moment to think about the length of Cubby's eyelashes. I thought about the last bit of baby chub on the Bear's inner thigh (yum). I thought about that moment today, just before Cubs knocked over his juice and about half an hour after the Bear cried over his misplaced stegosaurus, when both boys sat down in their chairs and chatted over a few books. I watched them quietly for a few minutes before realizing that the Bear was reading to Cubby and teaching him new words. When they were done, Cubby stood up, walked over to the Bear and hugged him. Sigh.

I held onto that moment, thanked God for my kids and our precious life here at the bungalow and walked to the cupboard to binge on some chocolate because lets face it....cute memories only get you so far when you are pregnant, its really the chocolate that keeps you sane.

sweetness

2010-09-06T17:21:00.000-07:00

Many of my posts about Cubby so far have highlighted his adventuresome, sassy, and wild personality. Tonight I would like to delve into the sweetness of his heart, which I can assure you, runneth over. Anyone who hangs out with us can tell you, Cubs and I love each other to pieces. We have a very deep and special connection, I attribute this to his birth and the hours we spent together immediately after. Its not uncommon these days for people to looks over at us and say, "uh-oh, someone is going to be in for a real BIG surprise when November comes around and there is a new baby in the house." Assuming of course that Cubby and his wild personality will throw a royal fit when a new baby is in my arms.

True to an extent. But I have witnessed several instances in the past month which lead me to firmly believe that Cubby will not only adjust faster than people expect but that he will also be an excellent big brother. Almost all of these examples stem from the sweetness of his heart. Here are a few tidbits of life with Cubby, on the sweet side.

Cubs is both a lover and a fighter. I've seen him knock his older brother to floor, leap on him aggressively and then proceed to kiss and hug him. Not to mention cuddling nonstop with our demanding pampered dog, Frankie. Cubs has become Frank's "get out of jail free" card ever since he learned how to open the cage door, which he does often and for the sole purpose of hugging his dog.

Cubby watches everything I do and more often than not, demands to participate in whatever I am doing. Whenever I drag a load of freshly washed laundry into his room, he'll drop his toys and come running to help out. His job? I pile the hangers onto his bed and he sorts them out and hands them to me one at a time. He's pretty good at it.

Each and every day I walk into the kitchen and start hauling out ingredients for mealtimes and its not long before I hear the familiar scraping sound of Cubby dragging his chair over to the counter top. He positions it carefully, climbs on and then peers over the counter with an eager grin on his face. His job in the kitchen usually entails either washing fruits and vegetables, placing things I have chopped into bowls, or helping me knead dough. He makes a mess, but its a beautiful one and I really don't mind it.

I learned quickly that Cubs is an extremely energetic toddler. Left to his own devices he gets into a lot of trouble, fast. But when he's directed in his activities, when I let him channel his energy into something useful, even if its not the sort of activity toddlers typically engage in, I find that he is happy and fulfilled. I end up scolding much less and we spend a happy day together.

I love that Cubs always seeks me out during the day. He wants to do things with me. He is incredibly social for his age and would much rather interact with others than play by himself.

Here comes the bulk of the sweetness. Cubby is a twenty month old little boy who loves to take care of his family. He likes to help me wash my hands, he likes to fetch things for his brother (almost as much as he likes stealing things away), he loves to bring the dog water. He kisses my growing belly everyday and loves saying "hi" to the little boy growing inside. I had a particularly horrible day a few weeks ago that eventually led to a five minute sob session on the floor of the bathroom. I plopped down and wept. Cubs heard me and came running. He crawled into my lap and rubbed my arms with his little hands and kissed my face. He comforted me the way I always comfort him. We treasured each other for a few moments. And yes, it made me cry harder when he did that.... my sweet delicious angel.

Bottom line: Cubs cares and loves us back. He likes to serve others, even if only in the most simple ways. Its the part of him I love to nurture most, its the part of him most like his father.

I know that when the baby comes, Cubby will be right by my side, helping out and falling in love with his little brother.

September

2010-09-04T16:18:00.001-07:00

Welcome September!! I am very happy to see you. I am normally not a fan of counting down the days, with my two precious little ones growing up so fast, I try my best to savor each and enjoy the phase they are in at the moment. Not so with August. Between the growing belly, exhausting ten day family vacation and Cubby breaking three molars at once...I was more than ready to kiss August goodbye.

Add to all that the fact that BSF starts up again mid-September! I can't wait!

So September, I will try my hardest to fill this blog up with many memories of our days this month. Here is a sweet one for today:

We finished dinner tonight and the boys stripped down in the dining room and ran for the bath tub. J followed them over and proceeded to give them their baths. I stood in the hallway and listened to the boys chatting with their hero. The Bear washed J's arm at one point and it was sweet to see him "taking care" of daddy. Cubs is also starting to chatter up a storm these days, pelting us with sass and spunk!

After bath time, they brushed their teeth. The Bear declared that he would brush his teeth very fast and then very loudly, he did both with a big smile. The boys put on their PJs and played in the nursery with J for awhile. We tucked them in an hour later and then the lightning began. Huge bolts of lightning, heavy rain and most notably for them, loud thunder. The Bear informed us of two things when we walked into the nursery. First, "I am awake Mommy!" Secondly, "Its thunder! Its very loud!" Cubs screamed his head off.

Another peal of lightning and crash of thunder which the Bear pointed out to us as Cubby tossed his arms around my neck, threw his head back and let out a loud wail.

J crawled into bed with a very chatty, very awake Bear while I settled into Cubby's bed with him. His heart was beating very fast, his chin trembled, his little eyes peaked around the room and he let out the occasional "oh no, thunder."

I loved sitting together in the dark, all four of us, huddled together with the smell of baby soap still lingering in the air. Somewhere along the way we became a family, not merely in the biological sense of procreating and then caring for children, but existing as our own little unit of love and caring. We are enduring things together, weathering storms outside and inside the bungalow. We share in joy and in sorrow. And now that its September, we only have 8-9 more weeks before someone else joins the gang.

EMBARRASSING

2010-08-09T09:33:00.000-07:00

Oh boy. The Bear has managed to seriously embarrass me a handful of times in the last month or two. Since this blog is really only to record their early life in the hopes that one day they might find it interesting to read, I shall now divulge these embarrassing moments to you. Beginning with:

1) Kinky Jews Yup. Kinky Jews. Went to the pediatrician's office for a check up and they put us in an exam room with walls bedecked in jungle animals. A kinkajou was perched high on a limb next to a large python. "Look," I said "what a cute little kinkajou!" The Bear's eyes grew round with this new animal name and he immediately repeated, "oooooo, a kinky jew." Yes, it was kind of cute. HOWEVER. The Bear has no sense of volume control yet. It wasn't whispered in a cute voice filled with awe. It was shouted, from the top of his lungs. Secondly, this Doctor's office has no policy on vaccine delay and so the majority of his patients are either hippies, green monsters or devout Jews hoping to avoid having their children injected with vaccine's that contain chunks of animal protein. I was already aware that the patients in the exam room next door were all wearing yamakas. Awesome.

Added Bonus: Since he is 2, he feels the need to repeat everything at a machine gun pace for a good 5-10 minutes. Which meant that he stood there yelling, "KINKY JEWS KINKY JEWS KINKY JEWS KINKY JEWS" for a solid 5 minutes while I hissed at him to hush up.

2) Fish Tits~ This gem came out at my midwife's office. We were in the waiting room and the Bear was being very grown up at the moment. Sitting quietly by my side, on a very comfy couch, he gazed around the waiting room and pointed out all the different animals he could find. Most of them were hidden in the shapes of a large Tiffany lamp in the corner of the room. Suddenly his eye caught on the large Japanese silk screen which is framed and hung by the door of the acupuncture room. It depicts a lovely lady in a beautiful kimono, surrounded by floating koi fish. My son stares at it for a few minutes and then decides to yell out "FISH TITS!!!"

Keep in mind now...a medical office. Someone is in the acupuncture room, with an acupuncturist likely armed with needles, in the process of being stabbed and a voice suddenly yells out, "FISH TITS." If this had been a Monty Python movie I probably would have heard an agonizing yelp from the other side of the door and then watched as someone runs from the room with a large needle protruding out of their eyeball. Or maybe a giant cartoon fish tit would have fallen on the office and smashed us to bits. Either scenario would have fit.

And yes, in answer to your mind's question, I died right on the spot.

"Sweetie, shhhhh! What are you talking about?" I begged.

"FISH TITS!!!"

"SHHHHHHHH. That isn't even anatomically possible. Those are just fish, please stop saying..."

"FISH TITS"

I ran the possibilities through my brain, which is rather slow these days as it is severely hindered by a computer virus known as PREGNANTMOMMYOF2TODDLERS.

"Fish tank?" I asked in a voice that almost sounded like a plea.

"Yeah! Fish tits!"

Awesome. We won't be going to Petsmart until that particular word develops correctly.

3) Big Penis~ The boys are in the midst of potty training now. I decided to refer to their tiny junk bits as pizzles because, as a veteran preschool teacher, I knew that one day they would become obsessed with their privates and run around announcing it to the world. Pizzle. Very sweet, very British, I liked it and thats what I was planning on using until their friends mocked them and they suffered enough social ridicule to merit the use of a more sophisticated word. Well someone beat me to it. Thanks to whoever you are.

The Bear was naming things at the grocery store. He is currently obsessed with adjectives and likes to assign them to the various nouns as he lists them. For example, a scary crocodile, a big panda, an awesome fish, a wonderful walrus, etc. He comes up with these on his own. Well that day he decided to name body parts. A cool nose, an amazing arm, you get were this is going. Unfortunately we were standing in front of the meat counter, waiting for the butcher to wrap up some pork chops when the Bear announced, "A BIG PENIS!!!!"

ACK!! What? I looked at him, wondering where he had heard this word and trying to think of a way to reincorporate pizzle before it was too late. He said it again. Three times.

Everyone looks at the mother when something like this happens. It doesn't help that the Bear looks like a cherub, he has the sweetest most innocent little face that when something like that flies out of his mouth everyone's natural inclination is to look up at the monstrous woman raising him. The potty mouth sailor in maternity jeans who probably runs around shouting the word penis all day long and so its no wonder her sweet little son picked up on it.

4) Awesome Nipples~ Again, same story as #3. Listing of nouns with the pairing of various adjectives and a nice splash of horrific timing. This also happened at the grocery store, thank the Lord it was on a different day. We came to a stop in front of the organic milk. The brand we buy features a cow on the front, utters prominently displayed.

"Look Mama, there's my cow!"

"Yes sweetie, that is your cow."

My youngest son looks at his brother, then at me and then at the carton of milk and says, "moo!" I am in a tizzy of maternal pride. Really, the mommy ego is quite big on this particular morning because the boys are behaving like angels and they match from head to toe which drives me giddy. Then the balloon pops big time.

"Oooo" says the Bear, "it has awesome nipples."

Fan-tastic.

I try to change the conversation but the carton is already in our cart. My son continues to point out its "awesome nipples" for the remainder of the shopping trip. This is acutely horrific when a very old lady with boobs down to her knees walks by just as my son announces to her, "awesome nipples."

5) Who's Making Noises? This last one happened today. I was out with the Bear and he informed me that he had to go potty. "A big fo" he said. We rushed into a public bathroom, the first such trip I have ever made in which I am responsible for holding a squirming pooping toddler over the edge of an adult toilet in a public bathroom. I usually bring a travel potty seat but of course, left it at home today.

We built a turban out of toilet paper for the seat and I plopped the Bear on it. He swung his legs around and started casually singing the ABCs. Then he heard the door to the restroom open. His eyes grew saucer shaped and he looked at me in shock, "Someone is here!" he said.

I nodded a quick confirmation, "Yup. Most of the potty rooms outside of our house are for more than one person."

This did not register with him. He started to get excited.

"I HEAR SOMETHING"

Dear God, I prayed to myself. It's me again. This is going to be about as trivial a request as it gets, but please, please let the call of nature next door be of the #1 kind and not the #2 kind. I really can not handle what will happen if its the #2 kind. I know my mother prayed that I would get a good dose of my own medicine when I made her life impossible some 23 years ago, but please Lord, please...

The woman let herself into the stall and proceeded to have her morning bowl movement.

The Bear immediately starts shouting in this very small, two stall bathroom with a loud echo that is growing louder by the minute...

"SOMEONE IS MAKING NOISES. Mama, do you hear? SOMEONE IS MAKING NOISES! Oh yes, very big noises Mama. WOW! Splashing in the water!!!"

I can't even remember everything I said, I think I was trying to cover up the sounds from the next stall so that the Bear would finish his deuce and allow us the mercy of a quick exit without facing this woman.

Not so.

The lady next door finally finished with a rather large splash which to my absolute mortification, the Bear responded to by saying, "Wow, a big fo splash." ("Fo" being his word for poop).

He also finished at this moment and I rushed to clean him up and get him out of there.

Stupid me. I should have waited in the stall like the coward I am. But I rushed and ended up opening our door at the same time our neighbor opened her door. We waited for her to use the only sink. We did not make eye contact. She was more than likely not amused.

This is how I know that I am not a mature person: my greatest urge today is to run to the store and find a replica of that nightmarish pink bunny costume from A Christmas Story. I want to buy that damn costume, dress the Bear up in it and take tons of embarrassing pictures of him. Then I will hold onto them and wait for his high school Senior slide show, at which time, unbeknownst to him, the pictures will appear in front of his entire class. HA! This would likely backfire though since he is a gorgeous kid and will most likely be a gorgeous man and these pictures would only further endear him to masses of skanks at his high school that I will already be doing my best to fight off so....nevermind. See how immature I still am? Plotting revenge against me two year old?

I really can't help it. It was truly, the most embarrassing moment of my life. And now you know the whole ugly truth of it.

The List

2010-08-05T09:59:00.000-07:00

I have a list, "Things to Get Done Before #3 Arrives." A few organizational items, a few discipline items for the boys, and the top of the list--potty training both boys well before the birth of #3. The last item is currently under way and they are both doing a great job.

Yesterday, my good friend had her second son at a hospital close to our home. I really wanted to scoot over there to see both her and the baby. We had our last two kids on the same exact day and so I was unable to visit her in the hospital for her first birthing since I was at home having just given birth myself. I put together a little gift basket for her and begged J to come home early and play outside with the boys. As we waited I could feel my patience with the kids wearing thin.

The Bear wouldn't stop crying and whining to go outside. He was tired and hungry, dinner was still 30 minutes away and he wanted to play with his bulldozer in the mud right then and there. Cubs took the top off my water bottle, which was tucked inside my purse, while we were at the grocery store and I failed to notice so by the time we got home my purse and its contents were drenched. Then while I was looking through said purse, trying to salvage a few receipts and makeup that I carry around but never wear I heard an ominous plop in the toilet. I assumed Cubs had thrown in a toy or himself. But he had thrown in the nice camera my parents bought me last christmas. All the while the soundtrack of the Bear crying and whining played in the background. I wanted to scream.

So I did.

I yelled at my two little guys. J got home and I could tell from the way he looked at me that he knew things had gone south very quickly for me that afternoon. I am two weeks away from my third trimester and the exhaustion is getting to me. I also have not one but two toddlers and all I wanted to do was go to the hospital 8 blocks away to see my friend and her new little angel. So I left in an angry huff, marched to the car, climbed inside and slammed the door, cried for a minute, fixed my awful awful mommy hair in the mirror and took off to see my pal.

By the time I got to the hospital I had cooled down considerably. 10 minutes later I was gazing through a pane of glass into a room of baby heavenly deliciousness. A handful of freshly bathed newborns, my pal's sweet little guy included, looked up dreamily from their bassinets at the overhead lights. I wondered about the little goober in my own belly and marveled at how fast this pregnancy is going, before I know it he'll be here too.

I was able to sneak in a few minutes with my girlfriend which I has hoping for but did not expect. She had only given birth an hour and a half before I got there and was still waiting for the effects of the epidural to wear off. She looked radiant. (She'll roll her eyes when she reads this, but its so true). Puffy and sweaty like all of us look after we give birth sure...of course, she just gave birth!! But also radiantly happy and serenely peaceful. She is one of these women who has just always been a mother. Even before her own children came into this world she just had an aura around her that screamed, "I am a mommy and I'll take good care of you." I kissed her goodbye a few minutes later, waved good bye to her ecstatic husband and headed home to my brood of minions. Ha!

Yes, I have a list. In my mind this list of "Things to do before baby #3 arrives" gives me a false sense of control and order. It makes me feel like I have it all taken care of, I have a plan and I am good at executing plans. But this is so far from the truth. Then there is the other lie that attacks when I have days like yesterday where things in my life literally go down the toilet and I feel like a complete failure. I worry that my bout of temper and yelling will be ingrained in my boy's minds forever or that their earliest memory of me will be a vision of a pregnant yelling hysterical woman that hasn't showered in two days. Lies, lies, lies.

The truth is simple. I love my life here in the bungalow with J and my boys and my garden. (I'll even grumble under my breath that Diva Dog makes life pretty great too). But its not like I run around all day singing to my children, working in my rose garden, baking bread and tooting butterflies. I work hard at keeping my house and my kids together. Because I am human, a sinner, and always tired from being pregnant, I very often "fail" to succeed at the standards I set for myself. But that is really ok. I love my boys and all I can do is work hard to do better the next day.

I reread a verse the other day that meant a lot to me. I scrawled it on a piece of paper and placed it on the dining room table for J and I to see. It really helps to have something like that to focus on and look at when we are feeling exhausted and our weaknesses get the better of us. I can feel those lovely fruits of the Spirit that I try to hang on to slip away from me. Then I read the following:

"And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things, at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work." 2 Corinthians 9:8

That one powerful sentence means so much more than a hundred check marks on a long list of perfect life goals. Even when I feel emotionally crazy and exhausted by kids, God is there to fill me with peacefulness, gentleness, faithfulness, etc. He is just waiting for me to let Him fill me with these oh so necessary gifts, things I need so I can abound in the good work of raising my boys and loving my husband. Ultimately, thats what makes our life here together work. Thats how J and I can still love each other well at the end of a hard week. I believe with all my heart that this outpouring of grace is what will keep me sane when three months from now I give birth to our third baby in four years of marriage.

As for the camera....RIP, it was a nice run we had with you. I am trying to scrounge up the old warranty to see if Canon replaces cameras thrown into the potty by sneaky 1 1/2 year olds with adorable smiles and twinkly blue eyes.

Little fart.

Growin' like a weed

2010-07-31T16:49:00.000-07:00

Our son is talking. He is having lengthy conversations with us. He is expressing his feelings and commenting on our feelings.

I knew it would happen. I just didn't know when. One day I was growing a baby inside me and then next thing I know (after a few unbearably painful days) I have a baby in my house that I am in charge of. I keep it alive. Its my job. I stumble to its nursery at 3AM to feed it actual milk from my body. Then I clean it when gross stuff comes out of either end. Then I watch it grow and change until suddenly one day....its not a baby anymore.

Pretty basic life stuff but until you experience it, there really is no way to fully grasp or appreciate it. My son casually mentioned today that "combines are the best farm trucks." When the word "combine" first popped up in his vocabulary a few weeks ago, this city girl had to GOOGLE what the heck a combine was. As far as I knew, combine was some sort of football he-man sports spectacular, college aged men participate in to try and entice coaches to draft them. After the Google search I found out that combines are indeed some sort of farm machinery. Where did my kid learn that word? Better yet, where the heck was I when he learned that word? Regardless...today "combines are the best farm trucks." As in: "Mommy, I can put on my own shoes, use the potty, ask for a napkin when I eat my dinner, identify every known animal on the planet and distinguish types of machinery you've never even heard of."

Ouch.

Really. It hurts more than a little.

I am very very proud of my little squirt. But man, that really hurt.

The good news is that we are currently experiencing on onslaught of adorable new behaviors. Do I miss the baby inner-thigh fatty love chunkiness? God help me, I always will. But I love hearing him say, "Mama I need a hug. I love you so much!"

I spent an hour in the sweltering sun today, working on my poor neglected garden. Faithful hubby working his cute butt off by my side. The summer rain and sun aided our lovely garden in becoming its own worst enemy, a giant amazonian monster of overgrown brush, weeds and flowers. A puffy, sweaty, pregnant mess, I stood up and looked across the yard halfway through the job and thought, how did this happen? These weeds grew so fast that all this growth came out of nowhere.

Its the same thing with my whippersnappers. I just keep feeding them and watering them and the moment I settle into a routine they shoot up behind my back and start talking about the advanced mechanics of farm machinery.

Exercise

2010-07-26T09:06:00.000-07:00

Sesame Street on Instant Demand. What bliss this setting is when I go over to my mom's for a visit and I need my boys occupied. Our decision to not own a TV makes Bella's house all the more magnificent thanks to their enormous flat screen television that is longer than both boys put together. We walked into Bello & Bella's house yesterday for a little Sunday R&R after a quick visit to the beach. The boys were sandy and over heated. I set up an episode of Sesame Street for them and noticed out of the corner of my eye that the episode featured Elmo and exercise. Their eyes were glued to the screen and I could hear the wheels turning in their brains.

Lately, I feel as though I am no longer raising two little boys but rather two small sponges that have an uncanny resemblance to my husband. They soak everything up. Yesterday, they watched Elmo running everywhere, around his house, around the block, around other muppets. They loved it. They soaked it all in. SLUUUURRRRPPP.

They also spent the entire day today running around my kitchen, or as it is now apparently titled, "the race track."

Damn you, Elmo.

Before you rush to Elmo's defense, let me explain my hostility.

I hate exercising---especially running. I'd rather burn calories practicing yoga or gardening. Yes, yes, yes, I know what "they" all say. Those are forms of exercise too! Well, usually people who say things like the above are very interested in exercise, they enjoy promoting it and are likely good at it, so in my present state of pregnancy crankiness I am completely discounting their opinion. Now...where was I? Oh yes. Running.

As I have previously stated: I don't run unless something large/scary/or both is chasing me. I don't jog or even "speed walk." I find the sensation of my heart hammering against my chest as if it were trying to escape quite distasteful. My legs are also shorter than everyone else's and after seven miserable years of physical education during my middle and high school years in which forced group running was always a requirement, I quickly realized that sucking wind and always coming in last place are also things I find distasteful. Our PE teacher had the annoying habit of labeling any girl with her menstrual period "A STAR." These girls were excused from running and allowed to walk around the track at any pace they chose. If anyone had paid attention they would have noticed that I bled three weeks a month for seven years.

My husband, on the other hand, loves running, jogging, and naturally walks fast everywhere. He likes going to the gym to work up a good sweat and even loves to swim laps in our pool. Way to go J. Here's a cookie.

No really, I am happy he finds joy in exercise. Ahem.

Now, here is the reason I damned Elmo a few paragraphs ago. I hate exercise but recognize that it is necessary and very good for you. <----(silent grrrrr overheard). As a mother I need to promote this healthy habit by demonstrating it in my own lifestyle for my children's benefit. The fact that this realization came in the package of a chirpy happy furry red monster that is on some sort of crack mixed with speed made my pregnancy hormones churn in a violent direction.

Thankfully, both boys seem to take after their father in this fascination and love of running and exercising----very good news for their bodies and should make enforcing the lifestyle skill much easier on me. But this is still very bad news for me and my lazy side.

Its easy to parent the kids in areas that I am particularly passionate about. The Bear is very curious about the fact that Mommy reads her Bible every day and takes notes on paper about what she reads. Sometimes he even imitates me, grabbing his children's bible and breezing through it with a thoughtful expression on his face. Both kids have worked alongside me in the garden and they now point out every flower they see throughout the day to me. The Bear even believes that I give flowers their yummy smell. (Slight pause to accommodate "ooo's" and "awww's" from all women reading this. I love it too! He makes me feel like sweaty puffy pregnant version of Snow White every time he holds out a flower and says, "My Mama make it smell beautiful!")

Bottom line: the boys notice what I love and they imitate things that I like to do. Eating veggies, cleaning and organizing, nice manners, bring it on! Unfortunately, my children watch everything I do and not just things I like to do. They soak up the good with the naughty.

Like I said, sponges that look like my husband.

While I love taking the boys out to work in the garden or play in the backyard, I never run unless one of them is running towards something sharp or poisonous. But Elmo told them to love exercise and Daddy loves to exercise and so they are now watching and waiting to see if Mommy also likes to exercise.

A similar situation happened months ago. I tried getting Cubs to eat, enjoy and love fortified oatmeal. He quickly noticed that he was the only one eating oatmeal. He is no fool. He realized that his brother knows better and his mommy hates that slimy icky congealed mass of breakfast food (I am gagging just thinking about it and not just because I am pregnant). So he threw the bowl on the floor and continued to do so every day until I gave up and quit making healthy oatmeal. He now prefers to eat cereal like his Daddy or strawberry yogurt with fruit like his Mama.

Running is the oatmeal of my current life.

Don't get me wrong. I am not about to go buy a pair of running shoes and start jogging every morning, heaven forbid. The day you read that I purchased a bengal tiger or grizzly bear you may be assured that I plan on setting it loose behind me for the purpose of training myself to run. But this is not the case, I have enough people to feed without tigers and bears living in my backyard and I have not owned a pair of running shoes since my freshman year of college. I own flip flops, high heels I don't get to wear anymore and hiking boots. But I digress.... I was talking about exercise. <-----silent grrrrr.

I am serving up a mini helping of oatmeal (blech!) and "running" with my kids. If I need to take a pause from the blissful domestic activities of my life like gardening, quilting, baking or scraping macaroni off of a high chair to go run around the backyard with my sons, so be it. I will do it. I love them and I want them to love running and love exercise. They won't have "STAR" cycles later on in life to excuse them, so even if they inherit my legs I need to make sure they stay running.

You know I am in love with my children, right? The proof is in this post.

Animals

2010-07-18T09:54:00.001-07:00

I had my first "fist fight" at the ripe old age of six. There was a boy in my class who already had a vicious cruel streak running through him despite the fact that we were all in the wonderous innocent world of first grade. He liked to bully other kids. He stole toys, told lies and worst of all, he abused animals. He threw our class pet on the floor once and laughed afterwards. Every time it rained he would run outside to eagerly stomp on all the earthworms. He dissected live lizards in the playground with sharp pieces of mulch. He was that kid. That hideous Scott Farkus and Sid from Toy Story blend of maniacal evil. I hated him.

During that third week he had taken to calling me "poop girl." This was because my skin was apparently "too brown" and to him, I looked like poop. We had been at recess all of five minutes before I saw him standing behind the large tree that grew in the school yard, ripping the legs off a cricket very s l o w l y. I walked over and demanded that he stop. My heart was racing and I felt like a super hero. I loved animals and I really did hate this kid and his stupid face and goofy smile with all those missing teeth. He looked up and said, "Shut your face, poop girl."

So I belted him.

Hard.

He cried.

It was awesome.

Best of all, I didn't get in trouble. The teacher assumed that we had a verbal fight. She made me sit out for the rest of recess. I basically got off scot free!

I've never forgotten this kid. Not just because we were forced to attend school together for the majority of our childhood, but because he was such a jack ass, even from an early age, and I always wondered why. Then the older I grew, I noticed the fundamental connection between pets (particularly dogs) and men. If a guy comes over and your normally happy dog growls at him, something ain't right with that guy. Any man that takes enjoyment from torturing or being cruel to animals is not a man, he is a coward. The Lord gave us dominion over animals and how we treat them, matters. It matters very much.

Now that I have boys of my own, I try my hardest to make sure they understand how important it is to love and respect animals. I was a weird kid growing up. Like most kids, I loved animals and unlike most girls, I was obsessed with bugs. I used to save earthworms from sidewalks-stompers at recess by scooping them up and saving them in my pockets for later. I loved lizards, spiders and crickets. I even picked up the occasional roach.

Now I don't expect my kids to go that far in their love of animal life, but if I ever catch them doing anything even remotely inhumane to animals or insects for the enjoyment of watching a lesser thing suffer, boy will they be in trouble.

Today we ran a few errands, one of which included a stop at Petsmart. The diva dog needed more food and I know the kids love going to this particular shop and so we all went in together. It just so happened that Adopt a Pet was also there this morning. They had set up a small gated area packed with wriggling squirmy little pups. Surprisingly, Cubs was a little freaked out by all the intense yapping, so J took him to see the kittens. The Bear was glued to the puppy bin. Here are a few phrases he said while we visited.

"Too cute!"

"Puppies are so fun, they are very nice Mama"

"Look Mama, Puppy is eating cheerios. He has a baby football!"

"Mama, Puppy drinking agua!"

"Ohh poor baby puppy, he lost his mommy!"

That last phrase tugged at my heart. I love how sensitive he was to the fact that a mommy dog was nowhere to be found. I explained that the shelter took care of the puppy the way I take care of him. They hold the puppies, feed them, give them water and play with them. He was serious for a few minutes as he contemplated the fact that the puppy did not have a mommy. I tried again, and told him that our dog Frankie doesn't have a mommy either, but that we are his family and always take good care of him. The Bear smiled at this and told me he was ready to go see the "Winnies."

For those out of touch with preschool television, there is a show called "The Wonder Pets!" that the boys love. Its about a group of classroom pets that save other animals from perilous situations. Last week, they saved a baby skunk from a thorny rose bush. It was viewed by all people under 35 inches in height at our home with quiet intensity, only the crunching of cookies could be heard as the Wonder Pets rescued the illusive skunk. One of the main characters is a guinea pig named Winnie. Hence, "the winnies" refer to any and all guinea pigs.

As we stooped down to peer into the glass, the Bear noted that the Winnies all had water, food and dry bedding, but again, no mommy. He peered up at me from under his baseball cap and asked, "Winnie home?"

"Sorry buddy, but we already have Frankie."

"Mama, Frankie and Winnie Mommy."

He wanted me to be Frankie and Winnie's mommy in the same way that I am his mommy. He had listened and understood everything I said. I'm proud of him for understanding the concept, I love that he has such a tender heart for animals and I ----- I stuck my foot in my big mouth today. When my eldest hears a concept or idea that I enforce as good, it sticks...it sticks hard. Something tells me that in a few years, our house will be overrun with pets who will have me as their predominant caregiver. Dang it.

But then again, I'd rather have my sweet boys and a house full of bugs and caged vermin then a petless home over run with Sid/Scott Farkus minions.

Responsibility

2010-07-14T09:28:00.000-07:00

In the fall of 2007 I was very busy growing the Bear in my huge belly and simultaneously putting in long days as a preschool teacher to seventeen very rowdy three year olds. The head count was technically eighteen, but I still believe one of them was not actually a toddler but a minion from the underworld sent to torment mankind. Ahem.

Anyways, I spent my days in a veritable extreme parenting crash course of horror and joy. These little guys taught me a lot, things like:

1) Little people need hugs too!

2) A cartoon band aid goes a long way...even if there is no visible ouchie.

3) Toddlers watch their parents more than they listen.

4) Always explain that play doh should never be stored in a nasal cavity. Even if you've explained the principle a thousand times before, it bears repeating.

5) Emergency rooms don't use stitches on small children anymore, they use a very strong glue.

6) Kids learn and behave the way they are expected to learn and behave.

7) You can never read too many books about bugs, snakes, lizards, bears or lions.

8) Even the prettiest princess will defend her lunchtime dessert with physical force if necessary. Therefore, never turn your back when there are oreos present, not even for a second!

9) If adults at home are cruel, oppressive, rude, condescending, cursing, vulgar, and dismissive of rules and those who enforce them---then surprise, surprise, their kids will be just that way too. (Disclaimer: Absolutely true, unless their child happens to be Matilda Wormwood).

10) If it looks like a booger and its anywhere near a three year old, then it is definitely a booger.

Those are just a few tiny nuggets gleaned from my first two weeks at the school. Now, I knew even then not to knock on other people's parenting decisions, I tried my hardest to separate the child's immediate needs from whatever lunacy some parent's where teaching at home. We really had a wide range of behavioral patterns and tendencies and it didn't take long to figure out that all of them stemmed from their home life.

Some children had no schedule at home, they were exhausted from staying up until midnight each evening and rising at six for school. Some children came to school without eating breakfast and were weeping by ten in the morning. Some children had great boundaries at home with bedtimes and breakfast included and they did pretty well.

I watched the parents and their children like a hawk. Not only because it was my job and because I loved those little brats with every fiber of my being, but because it was my turn next! I knew in the future I would make mistakes in parenting, but I witnessed a few things that impacted the way I would one day parent and I took all I could away from those instances. This led me to make some firm decisions that fall about what I wanted to do, and after all the necessary "tender love and care" stuff I resolved to give my kids the fundamental principle, a gift really, of responsibility.

I don't just mean my own promise of responsibility in caring enough to give them bedtimes, breakfast, baths, etc. I meant giving them the responsibility. Yes, even now at this tender tiny age.

I bought two nice white boards yesterday. They are in fact, responsibility charts, for my two rascals. They have chores/responsibilities that correspond with what they are capable of doing at their own age. For example:

Cubby's Responsibilities

1) Brush teeth

2) Comb hair

3) Wash hands

4) Clean up small toys and place them in bins

Bear's responsibilities

1) Put on own clothing/shoes (can ask for help)

2) Brush teeth and hair

3) Help Mommy with one house chore

4) Wash hands

5) Help clean up toys

6) Make bed

I expect these things of them because I believe they can do it. I know they can handle it. I trust them. I affirm them. Its a small list of things that I could obviously do for them, faster and better then they can, but letting them do these things says quite clearly "Mommy knows you can do it."

They take care of themselves, take pride in what they do and learn that they have a measure of control in their own life too.

My boys have polar opposite personality types that are easily stereotyped. People expect wild crazy behavior from Cubs. People expect controlled quiet behavior from the Bear.

They are neither absolute despite their pronounced personality traits. I expect good behavior from both. I expect them to be polite. I expect them to show kindness and respect.

I wasn't sure it would work when I first made that decision three years ago. But now I see that it does. When I am patient enough to turn the reigns over to them and allow them the freedom of a few choices, even if the outcome is what I wanted all along (i.e. Do you want to wash your hands with soap first or water first?) it means so much to them. I see it!! They twinkle with pride over their tasks.

Tomorrow we start putting check marks next to their responsibilities each day so they can visualize their progress. We are also building a pirate ship out of the dining room table and planning a vigorous sword fight with the foam sabers I purchased yesterday. My pirates will finish off their checklist and then battle it out in the dining room with the fearsome, wicked, peg-legged, Captain Mommy. The reward isn't always at the end of the checklist, it can happen along the way as well, after all, even pirates make their own beds.

Caddy Remedy

2010-07-13T20:30:00.000-07:00

I am cursed with photographic memory. I say cursed because at times I have so much information rolling around my brain that I feel more than s l i g h t l y crazy. For example, something at home requires a solution and I instantly have magazine pages floating behind my eyes. Not indexed or in any kind of order, just a visual assault of possibilities. If I happen to be pregnant when this happens, it only serves to overwhelm and frustrate me. This week was that week of sheer over the top, unnecessary frustration. I decided to start my way from the bottom up. Beginning with organizational needs. I figured I could handle that. I love to organize and while its very useful, if I don't finish its not the end of the world. <----denial.

Because really, does it matter if the one large closet in our small bungalow is a topple down, Monica Gellar secret closet, MESS?

Shoulder Devil: Yes! You sloppy poor excuse for a woman!

Shoulder Angel: You're pregnant and you have two toddlers, give it a break!

(while they debate, a once well organized wicker basket full of light bulbs can be heard falling from top shelf of said hideous closet, crashing to the floor in a foreshadowing of my life next week)

I took a small time out involving ~~two~~ five oreos and decided to evaluate the main organizational needs in my life at the moment. The fact that I have "organizational needs" at all and am not homeless, covered in gulf oil or living in a pile of earthquake rubble already makes me feel grateful and gives me a much needed kick in the reality pants. I celebrate with an additional oreo.

Really, the "needs" boiled down are:

1) The bog of eternal mess closet sometimes called a linen closet.

2) The disaster zone each evening in the back corner of the bungalow. Peaceful, well organized living room as the sun comes up, absolute chaos as the sun sets. Its a pain in the butt to clean up 900 puzzle pieces and 50 matchbox cars every night before I go to bed. Sometimes my pregnant body really can't handle anymore and I need to just give into my humanity and go to bed with a messy back room!

3) Nancy Drew and the Case of the Missing Toddler Shoes.

4) Home school corner. School starts in August, am I ready? Lord, no!

Ahem.

I tackled the closet today. Rearranged the linens, restocked and organized the cleaning supplies, etc. It really wasn't that bad. I have a few things I need to give away and a few things I need to reorganize, but all in all...not bad. If I had time/money I would wallpaper the inside of that closet in a fun lemon yellow print. But really, I have no time or money for that kind of Real Simple Cover delight, so why bother? For now, its clean and it works! Moving on...

The boys and the missing shoe/everything problem. We are ready to go out the door, where are the shoes? Where are the clean shirts? I invested in two plastic cleaning totes (basically, a shower caddy) today while at Target. I like that they have handles and stack together nicely. I like that I can store the boys shoes as well as a few decent changes of clothing to help Daddy out when he is confused on what matches and what does not. I like that I can move it all together from one room to another with minimal fuss. It works. This is not my idea, it came to me in the psychedelic blur that is my photographic memory.

Ahhh....smell the organization

Homeschool corner is under construction. I am currently trying to find a shelving unit that can work for our needs. I bought the boys their basic supplies today: slates, chalk, notebooks, construction paper, glue etc. I went ahead and invested in a GIANT industrial size box of non toxic washable crayons online and a few other essentials. I am having the curriculum books bound at Kinkos sometime this week so the boys can lay their books flat on the table.

sidenote: When I say "curriculum books" I don't mean that I am drilling my 1 1/2 and 2 1/2 year old in Geometry this fall. I found great preschool curriculum books for 3-4 year olds and am supplementing those accordingly. This fall, the Bear is technically in school and Cubs is technically invited so that he won't feel left out. Cubs will mostly be working with coloring books :)

I'll post some pictures once Homeschool corner is up and running.

Lastly, the back room of no return after sundown.

I've done a lot to make that back room functional. Baskets, bins, puzzle racks, amazing play table with built in storage unit, etc. Most of the time, it looks really great. Lately, I don't want to put in the mass amount of effort needed to clean up every last miniscule toy or puzzle piece and then return it to its rightful Type A place.

So I bought one more caddy at Target. I decorated it with cute stickers. I am making my kids clean up their own Tazmanian Devil messes. Meet the clutter caddy. Its for all the little pieces that I don't the have energy to clean up late at night. I love the clutter caddy. Great Solution!!

Particularly Peculiar

2010-07-03T15:53:00.001-07:00

I've been watching the Bear closely over the past few months. At first I was concerned that he was about to plummet off the deep end of the ridge into perfection/compulsive disorder world, but I have since learned that he is quite safe from falling. The Bear is not a perfectionist. Perhaps to a stranger he would appear so. He is always tidy. He lines his cars and trains according to type---as in steam engines in one place, diesel trains and freights in another. Construction trucks on one end; farming vehicles and maintenance trucks on the other. Then, further broken down within the categories are other categories. Well, you can understand my initial concern.

We walked into the Doctor's office last month for a physical. The Bear weighed 33 lbs and was 33 inches tall. My son is very very precise. He even grows, precisely. He is very particular about his routine and how he likes to do things. He hates getting dirty while indoors. For example, the boys were sick this past week and one day the Bear found a booger in his hand. HE FREAKED OUT! He ran to me, tears running down his face, yelling "disgusting! disgusting! disgusting!" I wiped his hands clean and still he continued yelling "disgusting!!" It took several minutes for the trauma of the event to subside. Whenever we sit down for a meal or even a snack, the Bear usually politely makes a request for a napkin or two. If his hands get dirty while painting or coloring he will draw my attention to it by saying, "dirty fingers, mama!"

And yet, once we are outside...all the rules change. He can't splash in puddles hard enough. He loves playing in the dirt and in the mud. He loves our pool. He loves working in my garden with me. He still has all sorts of little methods for getting messy, but its a relief that he loves to get messy when outside. I love how particular he is about his life. His character is charming and he is so very much like his father at times, delightfully peculiar with a spectacular amount of genuine, bone deep, heart felt kindness.

Now on to the other small person consuming the other half of my time and energy...Cubby! Who loves getting dirty all the time and is rarely still or quiet. In his mind, napkins, baby wipes and cleaning cloths of any kind are all space invaders to be thwarted, usually with amazingly fast karate chops accompanied by ear piercing carnal screams. He is almost always, a head to toe mess. The one exception being 6:30-7:30PM, daily. :) Or as we call it in our house, "Monster Bath Time!"

I love bathing him at night and kissing his pink, sweet smelling skin. His hair is feather soft when I tuck him in, his cheeks are clean and those blue eyes sparkle up at me as if to say, " Mommy, I am delicious and squeezable." I enjoy this time of night. Its the only time he is ever clean enough to kiss without getting some sort of aftertaste in your mouth once you are done. :) When Cubs wakes up in the morning he is somehow, already a bit dirty. After breakfast he is definitely very dirty. By the end of the day he is sticky, his hair crunchy with some sort of food mixed in with sweat and dirt, his body appears to be coated in several layers of watermelon juice and cheerio dust, while his hands are...indescribable. This happens because Cubby is a hands on, full body contact, bulldozer of energy. He is my little Taz. He is always destroying something with a huge smile on his face as he does it. J and I love to describe him as a sweet angel with a big blue shiner and a slightly crooked halo.

He helped me bake a cheesecake today. I sat him up on the counter as I worked. He watched as I cracked eggs, poured sugar and tossed in some cream cheese. I revved up the hand mixer and gave it over to him. He smiled that beautiful toothy grin of his and started mixing. We carefully poured the batter into our springform pan and then I helped him down from the counter. He watched as I carefully slid the cheesecake into the oven. I always turn the light on for him because Cubby loves to watch food cooking in the oven. He stands at the door, his eyes at level with the window in the door and he gazes at the food for a while. Its precious. Sometimes, like today, he will pull up his chair and sit in front of the oven for awhile, patiently waiting for the treats to come out. On other days, he gets fed up with the tediousness of baby life, pulls out his plastic wiffle bat and beats on the door while he screeches for the food to be brought out immediately.

Cubby is a particular person too. He likes people and food in particular. If he is going to play, he wants to play loudly. If he is going to throw a ball, he wants to throw it hard! If he is going to hug me, then he wants to be held and cuddled for many minutes.

What fun to have such different personalities under one roof. I am quite quite in love with them and their sweet particulars. As I type this I can feel another little boy squirming around, trying to get comfortable by leaning up against my bladder. Hmm... what will you be like, I wonder?

It's a Boy!

2010-06-29T15:34:00.000-07:00

The Lord answered our prayers. We went to our ultrasound last week and were told that our new baby, a little boy, is quite healthy and strong. We are overwhelmed with thankfulness that our son has emerged from this ordeal physically unscathed and that the radioactive treatment I received left no harmful effects on his developing body. Thank you, Lord!

One of J's first comments after we finished thanking God for His mercy to us was one I will always remember with a smile.

"Well, at least I don't have to start saving up for a wedding yet."

I laughed and gave my man a great big kiss in that elevator. Another boy! All the worry and stress of the past months drained out of me in that moment and I felt such elation. I could very well have my own dream come true, we could end up with four boys! I am dizzy with excitement for all the upcoming bug hunts, fishing, and camping trips.

The Bear gives me a big smile whenever we talk about the baby. Sometimes he is concerned about the baby's exact whereabouts. "Where is my baby? Where is my boy?" he'll ask me. I'll reassure him that the baby is still inside my belly, safe and warm. He'll give me a dubious look with those beautiful blue eyes of his and process the information for a bit, then he'll either kiss my belly or sing to the baby. I love when he sings to the baby. Yesterday he sang the theme from Wonder Pets. Today he sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

We told Cubby about his new little brother as well. He stared at me for a moment and then asked for another cookie.

Its been along month for us. The Bear managed to contract roseola and I spent most of the month nursing him back to health and getting Cubby through his own little respiratory infection delight. Then we went on a cruise for my Dad's 50th birthday extravaganza complete with nearly all our family members. A vacation with toddlers is not really a vacation but rather an intense wilderness survival experience regardless of location (any place that does not include the toddlers usual surroundings is considered wilderness). I was s l i g h t l y overwhelmed at the thought of a weekend cruise.

Ok. Fine. You want the truth.

I was kind of a mess in the week leading up to the cruise. I was TERRIFIED that one or both of my children would fall overboard and be lost at sea or be poisoned in the Grand Dining Hall by undercooked chicken. This nervous paranoia is pretty typical because I am a) Cuban and b) pregnant.

But it was fine. More than fine. In fact, we had a wonderful time! Yes, it was hard work getting the kids from place to place without incident, but somehow we managed. My husband is a rock star Dad, he truly is. He helps me with everything and I am a spoiled woman. He does things without my having to ask, he always has my back and he (somehow) always knows just what to do. We are very in sync when it comes to the kids. I can't tell you how grateful I am for that. He doesn't have to do it. But he does.

The boys LOVED the cruise. They napped well, slept well at night and ate like thoroughbred race horses. Cubby made the most of the buffet lines and I think both boys averaged around 3 yogurt cones a day! They loved the kiddie water park on the top deck and were absolutely beside themselves to be living on a big boat with the whole family. They had huge smiles on their faces all day wherever we went and were always on the lookout for a family member sighting. I am so proud of how well they behaved. I expect good behavior from them on all occasions and they did not disappoint.

Now we are back to "normal life" here at the bungalow. I clipped some fresh roses from the garden for my kitchen this evening and sat down to write this entry, and from the monitor next to me I could hear the steady even breaths of Cubby deep in slumber and the soft voice of my little Bear singing Jesus Loves The Little Children. It's good to be home.