Brotherly (and sisterly) Love

Just a few random shots of our kids together. How very, very blessed we are to have this beautiful family. And how very, very blessed they are to have each other. It's the moments like this that make every little argument and struggle between them melt away in memories.

Finny and Goose have one matching outfit. Finny always makes sure to dress Goose in it when he picks his own out.

Punky and Goose are like two peas in a pod. And Goose just adores that biggest brother of his!

Look at those kids! I just love this shot.

A quiet moment between Punky and Finny as they enjoy a cold treat on a hot day.

The whole gang (minus me - the photographer) on our hike to some local ice caves. A little bit of everything... Batman, Transformers, big rubber boots, pig tails, and a big Daddy to show them everything he can about the world around them all.

Finny showing Goose the ropes of this whole alphabet thing. They are doing so well together in their school stuff. Finny really seems to like the role of mentor with the basics. It's great reinforcement for him, and Goose of course loves the attention and time spent with his brother.

Punky and Finny enjoying a new load of books from the library together. I love when I catch one of the big boys reading to the others. It just melts my heart.

Goose and Girly Pie going for a little walk around the house with the babies. What you can't see is that they are both wearing babies on their backs, as well. (And lest you think we have a zillion copies of everything, we don't own all the babies - most are on loan from our local library from their nifty new learning kits) These two are so cute together. They really do enjoy a special connection that I so enjoy watching unfold!

Family fun

I just love watching my kiddos play together! Goose and Girly Pie are so cute together right now. She just adores him, and he is completely in love with her, too. It's so cute how now that she's walking, Goose likes to follow her around and hold onto her shoulders, like a little choo-choo train together! Of course it's a bit of a problem since she keeps falling over when he does it. But still, it's cute.

And lately Finny and Goose have started forming their own little friendship. For the most part, it's always been Punky leading the crew, with Finny mostly following him in everything. In the past year or so since Goose has been more of a little guy and less of a baby, he's just happily followed along - only throwing fits when for some reason he can't be in the same room with whatever the big boys are doing. But for the most part, Punky and Finny have played fairly exclusively. They have been the buds, everyone else has just been a third wheel.

But now Finny has discovered the sheer joy of being in charge of someone else! He's found that when he plays with Goose, HE gets to deiced on the game, and HE gets to pick which guy he is. HE gets to lead someone around the house and have someone else hang on his every word. Goose adores him and loves to do whatever Finny suggests, and Finny is shining in his role as leading big brother. And I LOVE IT!

Punky is a born leader, and he very much enjoys that role. But sometimes he's a little... ahem... shall we say... bossy? And Finny has this sort of defeatist attitude about Punky always getting his way. He usually just gives in to his big brother, but as he's grown older and has tried to assert his own opinion and independence, he'll often throw a bit of a fit or just whine insessantly at his big brother to try and be heard. Of course, most of the time Punky doesn't even bat an eye. He seems to not even hear his poor little brother's pleadings. So someone ends up getting upset and timeouts are divvied out and the game ends badly. And I feel so bad that poor Finny never really gets his way. Even when I do intervene, he's just the little brother, so it's just hard for Big Brother to follow his lead. That's just not the dynamic between them.

But now often I'll find Finny happily running around, with Goose hot on his heels, announcing what they'll be playing and suggesting (with surprisingly good manners and kind words) what dress up clothes they should don next. Goose is of course thrilled to not only be allowed in the game, but to actually be getting some attention and say in said game. They are so cute running around in matching Batman suits or Superman jammies or Incredibles gear.

But of course, then Punky comes along and laments that he feels left out now that Finny and Goose are playing so much together.

Sigh.

You just can't win. ;o)

I did take that opportunity to talk to him about the give and take of playing with his brothers. I pointed out how nice it was for Finny to be the leader and to get the chance to choose the game and the details without having to fight so hard to be heard. I said that I was sure they'd include him in their game, if he was willing to join their game and follow them - but not just jump in and take over. So far I've not seen much improvement, and He often goes off on his own to do something else. But we'll see if any personal growth can come from this for sweet, but bossy, Punky.

And then there's the little Princess-with-four-handsome-young-knights dynamic! I have to say it is so very sweet to see how much they all adore that little girl. They all clamour for her attention and love to help her get things to make her happy. Finny and Punky love to carry her around when they're allowed to, and they are always so willing to accommodate for their little sister, even when it's terribly inconvenient to them. They pick up small toys and move games to higher ground. They accept toppled towers and slimy pencils that she has found and slobbered one - all without a single complaint. I have had to restart many a movie after she has pushed the DVD player's buttons mid-show, but they never seem to mind a bit. Stories have ended early from her fussing, games are put on hold until naptime, fun is shushed while she's alseep. But those boys never even seem to give it a thought. That's just something that happens with a baby around. And that's all there is to it.

So life in our home with four little ones really is so much fun right now. I really do so enjoy the gift of watching them all grow up as siblings. I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but having grown up an only child, it's just such a neat and novel thing for me to see them all living and loving together on a daily basis. I feel so blessed to be a part of such a family.

And I think that my kids feel pretty blessed to be a part of one, too.

My Day

Today I (in no particular order):

• baked a quadruple batch of banana bread muffins
• froze about two dozen muffins and almost that many mini-muffins for suture snacking
• washed and dried 6 loads of laundry
• folded four of the aforementioned laundry loads
• got math, language and reading done for Punky and Finny
• learned a bit about Roman gladiators with Punky and Finny
• fed 6 people 3 full meals
• made a quick solo run to the library to pick up holds (Hubby was home with nappers)
• showered (not always as easy to get done as it sounds!)
• was woken at 4:30am by a cranky, tired little girl who refused to go back to sleep
• changed 4 poopy diapers
• bathed two of four children
• kissed no less than four owies better
• found time to cuddle with my Man
• read a bit of the Bible (not as much as I wanted to - But Girly Pie was busy trying to sit on said Bible, so I gave up)
• emptied the dishwasher
• oversaw morning chores
• washed the kids' bathroom counter and toilet
• got all four kids dressed! (though boys 1 & 2 do that on their own now...)
• tidied the kitchen and family rooms
• put away the Littles' clean clothes (also something that often sits around waiting to be done)
• read books to all four of my children
• enjoyed a few conversations with Mary Grace over the phone
• stripped and washed our sheets
• put the sheets back on our bed (hours before bedtime even! I think that's a record for me...)
• remembered to take the dog out to potty
• marveled as my baby girl mastered walking all over the downstairs, even crossing the entire kitchen and dining area without falling once
• snuggled and tickled Goose because he's so edibly adorable and chunky!
• found time for snuggles and some one on one time with each of my four kids at different points in the day
• got about 5 OT activities done with Finny
• played Jacks for the first time with my boys
• helped Finny finish his pop-up birthday card for Girly Pie
• played a couple of levels of Super Mario Bros 3 (the one from 15 +/- years ago!) with my Man and the big boys during their short Daddy hang out time this afternoon
• managed to stay awake despite the 5 hour night sleep I had - and never really even felt tired (once I was up and moving, that is...)
• carried Girly Pie around for the vast majority of her waking hours
• wiped several runny noses repeatedly
• encouraged discouraged boys
• rescued a damsel in distress on multiple occasions (every time she climbs on anything - which is always - she gets stuck there!)
• taught Girly Pie two new hand signs

Tonight between now and bed I hope to:

• fold the last two loads of laundry in the house
• do a final tidy on the whole downstairs
• stuff the pinata for Girly Pie's birthday party
• watch the rest of our Creation vs. Evolution DVD from Answers in Genesis with my Man
• be in bed and lights out by 10:30 (if I'm lucky...)

So there you go. And here I thought I wouldn't get anything done with Girly Pie's very sad, very nap-challenged, very teething and cranky day. It's amazing how accomplished you feel just by looking at what you do each day on paper. And I know there are a zillion other little things I did today that didn't even register in my mind when I sat down to write the day out here. It does feel good to feel like I actually did something today!

Soul Music

I was having an oddly low day today. I really had to struggle to keep positive (or maybe afloat is a more accurate word here) which is unusual for me. I prayed constantly today in the hopes that just by His mere presence God would somehow restore the general sense of peace and joy I daily take for granted.

But apparently it wasn't His Own presence God had in mind to settle my spirit today.

Apparently it was Finny's.

Tuesdays are busy for us right now. Finny has a 10-11am gymnastics class and Punky has a 2-4pm homeschool class at the YMCA which includes swim lessons and alternating gym and art classes each week. Both of these classes are in the next town over from us, a solid 25-30 minute drive from our door to theirs. Thankfully it's just a short season, and both kids seem very blessed by these classes, so it's something we're willing to do... but myohmy, I was not created to be an on-the-go mom! And poor Girly Pie and Goose!

But today we were blessed in that Mary Grace was able to take Punky to the 2pm class with her kiddos, so I was able to drive the kids home after Finny's morning class for a full lunch and everyone but Punky got a decent rest or nap depending on their needs. It was clearly a much needed nap for Goose and for Girly Pie, both of whom were most definitely not going to make it through the rest of the day without it! And though Finny fought the alone time in his room, he did seem to benefit from it.

Oh. And I really enjoyed the quiet time, too.

So when Finny's rest time ended (the story on CD is set on a timer and when it clicks off they know their "rest time" is over and they are free to come out and join me) I was still in my bed finishing up a very nice worship time of music and Bible reading. I was feeling fairly refreshed and mellow, though I admit I was still oddly pensive and a bit gloomy feeling. But instead of both big boys trampling down the stairs to find me catching up on chores or computer time, I just had one quiet boy amble into my room, and together we stumbled into one of the nicest afternoons I've had in a really long time.

He joined my on my bed and I snuggled him up into me. I could smell the dirt in his skin from yesterday's yard play. And the sun was coming into the room just so, lighting up his fair skin and the little blond fuzz on his arms and neck. He was just so snuggly and yielding, which he is at times but not all the time. It was so nice to chat with him without interruption. No baby needing my arms. No toddler bouncing around with funny little antics. No older brother butting into each and every part of the conversation to offer up his own thoughts. Nope. None of that. Just me and my Finny William.

We talked about Easter and Jesus. Usually it's Punky who gets into the deeper theological discussions around here, and Finny is often just left there looking like a much younger child who really doesn't "get it" yet. So I was honestly surprised to hear what a strong grasp he has of Jesus and His sacrifice for us. He seemed perfectly aware of His death and resurrection, and understood why it had to be so. I was surprised by this mostly because Finny currently struggles with some pretty intense fears and sadness over anything remotely close to death or sadness. So to see him so matter of fact about the whole thing was really neat.

And then we talked about how we get to live forever in heaven. And about how in heaven you don't have any pain or fear... and you don't get ear infections (he is currently recovering from one), and you don't need ear tubes in heaven, nor do you need to get your tonsils taken out there (have I mentioned last year's surgery to have his tonsils and adenoids removed and to have ear tubes inserted to help with his chronic ear troubles?). He laughed at that, and was very pleased to realize that in heaven, he could swim or shower and not fear water getting in his ears. My heart hurt to see how simply he accepted how it is here - my strong little boy, already so much more aware of sacrifice and burdens than so many other five year olds. But it was so sweet to really know that someday, if my husband and I do our part well and if Finny stays on this path towards Jesus, he will be in a place free of these burdens of pain and suffering. And it was so fun to dream about that with him. Forever in heaven, always happy, never sad or lonely.

He was smiling the whole time. And I held his hand in mine, cradling it and turning over his little fingers, studying them, memorizing them and their smallness, their softness. The bright sun still lighting up all those blond little fuzzy hairs, the window cracked to let in the sounds of passing trains and breezes flitting through the trees.

The whole time I had my music playing, a little CD my husband put together from me with some of my favorite praise songs and a bunch of other country and oldies songs I like. It was pretty funny when Finny asked me to turn off the music. He said it made him "nervous." I tried to get him to explain to me why it made him feel nervous, and the best he could put to words was that they were all about Jesus and hearing songs about only him just made him feel "nervous." (For the record, they weren't all Christian songs, only a small portion - but it is a mix of music with a lot of heartwarming songs that definitely spark emotions in me.) So I'm not sure my five year old's understanding of the word nervous fits the feeling he was actually having, but I did find it interesting and sweet to see him so aware of the emotions that music brought out in him.

Another striking moment for me was during a snippet of our talk involving guns. We don't allow toy guns in our house and though the boys have small character toys with guns (Lego guys, etc.) they aren't allowed to play with or pretend to have life size guns. I'm just not ready to watch my boys pretend to kill each other. I've heard it may just be inevitable and I'll just need to get over it. But for now... I'm still holding strong!

But... Finny mentioned something about guns and how we don’t have them and how he'd never want toy guns. And it sparked a memory of a story my dad told me from his childhood. It was the first and only time he'd ever gone hunting. He went out in the California desert as a young man (old boy?) with a gun, and he heard a song bird. He saw it far in the distance and just for fun tried to shoot it, figuring it was too far off and he'd miss anyway. Well he hit the bird, and its song died along with it. My dad went home and put the gun away and never picked a gun up again. He was so heartbroken over the life he'd taken - over the contrast of the beauty of the bird's song to the harshness of the gun that killed it - that he just couldn't bear to take another life again.

So as I told this story to Finny, in a more watered down way of course, he turned his head aside and started to cry softly. This is the same boy who so openly accepted Christ's gift of His own life in exchange for our sin... the same boy who had only moments before discussed the beating and the crown of thorns... and yet his heart could not bear the thought of that little song bird dying in the desert, nor the thought of his young Grampa being so sad over the death of that little bird.

It was just such a sweet moment. He was a little sad, but still talking about it, and our talk took a few more twists and turns from there. That little boy has such a soft heart.

Sigh.

Later I brought up a little bag of candy I had and we divided up some pieces to share. He had fun counting them all out and finding patterns and making shapes and letters with them. He loves that kind of thing.

So through the whole time we spent together - maybe an hour total - I just felt so close to him, and so blessed to be his mom, to have him for a son. And I felt so thankful for all of my children. I very much enjoy the time I spend with all four of my kids together, and the times with just a couple of them. But when I really get to have just a little chunk of time like that with just one of them I am always amazed at how much I really enjoy that. It's just a special treat and it's one that I am so grateful to have the opportunity to enjoy now and then. I am so blessed to be a stay at home mom. I have a husband who works so very hard so that I can be home to raise and care for our children! And I get to homeschool. How hard would it be to carve out that special time with my kids if they were gone all day five days a week!? And I have a friend who can make a car trip for me now and then so that I can have just those extra two hours in the afternoon to spend refueling my spirit.

So that was my gift today. I admit that I still struggled to keep positive as the day wore on. There must be something rumbling in my soul that will be revealed later. Or maybe it was just a weird day. But that little snippet of my day really feels like a bright ray of sunshine on an otherwise gray day.

I can still smell his dirty boyish smell. I can still see the translucent look of his skin as the sun shone so brightly on it. Those little peach fuzzies are so clear in my mind's eye. Those hands - so small. That giggle at the thought of an ear infection-free heaven. The quiet tears shed over a little lost life. I think part of what made it so special was that Finny was himself, too. He wasn't frustrated or straining. He wasn't distant and happily floating in his own little Finny World. He was not competing with anyone else, nor was he striving to get my attention. He just had it, and he was happy for it, but not straining. It was just the most natural thing in the world. And sometimes in a house with 6 people, it's a little hard to find completely natural time to just be yourself with someone.

And as an only child, though I rarely get such moments, and really don't even try for them, I really do feel so refreshed when I am gifted with them. I forget how much a part of me that quiet one-on-one time is. It is just music to my soul.

Women, part 4

But again, the Lord was there even without my knowing it or really even asking Him to be. He put us in that first house knowing I would need those friendly neighbor women. He knew I would need people to smile at me and my way too cute babies. He knew I’d need others to say, “It’s ok. I’ve been there.” And to plan neighborhood potlucks with and to introduce me to the world of homeschooling.

He knew that in a few short years after we moved to our first home, that Mary Grace and her family would be moving in just down the road from us. He knew I was in need of a mentor and a true best friend: a woman to walk with hand-in-hand through this beautiful season of life. He created in me an apprentice’s spirit, and He knew that I would need to have a friend to watch and walk alongside without my even being aware of it.

I was not created with an innate knowledge of the world of mothering and of women. I was not raised in a home with anyone modeling these things for me either. But I was brought up in an environment with a very loving and supportive father, and women all around me pouring into me in various ways that went unnoticed for years.

So now, to sum up a bit from all the ramblings… I realize that I really do like women.

I love being able to talk to Mary Grace for hours about nothing really worth keeping a record of, but still I can walk away feeling justified, supported, refreshed, loved, understood… I love that. I love that she can encourage me without even trying. Heck, she can encourage me in the middle of telling me about a tough moment for her just in the fact that I do not feel alone in my occasional chaos or struggles to be all that I am called to be.

I enjoy having another friend I met from church (Let’s call her E.) over with her children and we can let our 6 walking and talking children play together and make gingerbread cookies and while we hold our babies and share stories of support and encouragement of the Lord and His work in our life. We can mention something that we cannot quite put words to in our world of mothering and the other can say, “I know! That is so true.” Even when we do not have the right words to make it all make sense. The thought, the feeling… the understanding is still there.

And I like that I can call the slightly younger friend down the road (I’ll call her C.) with her very young family of two children under two years old and chat about the thrill and newness of our same-aged babies. It’s great that she can come over and try out a craft we’ve been doing for years and to watch her face light up as she enters this world of mothering that I have enjoyed for so many years (well, almost seven years… it feels like it’s been longer though!) and I get to feel just that little bit like the mentors who have meant so much to me over the years.

And the day I started this silly little Women post, after a morning chat with Mary Grace, a midday baking and chatting time with E. and her brood, and an evening spent at C.’s house where we were invited for a lovely quesadilla dinner and we stayed for a nice chat and some super cute play time between our two-ish year olds and our 7 month olds… well, that day it occurred to me that the women in my life are truly a blessing.

These days (though the aforementioned day was a bit more full than I am accustomed to) fill me up in ways that I cannot describe. To share a common thread with these women, to be a part of this world that I once feared… even hated at times… to be accepted, loved, understood…to have others see the beauty in the day-to-day details of my life and understand them on a level that only another mom could… well I am not the graceful and talented writer that is my friend Mary Grace, so I cannot find the words to describe the feelings that come with this connection. But, I have a feeling that if you are a woman reading this right now that you may just have some idea of what I am talking about.

So all this to say that my friends, the women that I can clearly see were chose by the Lord Himself to walk with me in this life, mean very much to me indeed. I once thought that a husband to love me and children to raise were all I needed.

It didn’t take me too long to realize that God had more planned for me. He knew, first of all, that I needed Him. He also knew that I needed friends. And I think He created us that way to begin with. I do not think women were meant to go it alone, you know? Not that every one of us needs to be a social butterfly. One best friend is perfect for me, and one or two other close friends to walk along beside me as well round me out just right.

But at this point in my life, at least now in this short but important season of raising up my young family, I am so very thankful that I can do it alongside a few other women who can hold my hand and hear my stories and enjoy them, and who can share theirs with me. And then, once I have gotten all my chatty excitement out on them, I have just enough left for my husband to enjoy but not to feel overwhelmed by. ;o)

After all, as my dad occasionally says to my husband with a wink, “You married her. She’s all yours now.” And half the time he’ll make the little flapping hand sign that is synonymous with talking too much. So I guess that even though I looked like a boy once upon a time… I always did talk like a girl.

And one last little point, though I have been terribly long winded already… I adore my sons. I love (and always have loved) the world of boys and I always did feel like I would be the mother of boys. And after three of them, I was pretty well sure that I was going to be the mother of only boys. During my pregnancy with Girly Pie, we did not find out her sex (as with all my pregnancies) and I was completely confident and convinced that she was a boy. I remember having pangs and thoughts along the lines of, "I never got to be on the daughter end of a winning mother-daughter relationship. And I wonder if I will ever get to be on the mother end of a right and good mother-daughter relationship." But I was ok with that. I was just thrilled to be having a fourth child regardless!

I am still in awe at times that God blessed me with a daughter of my own. I only pray that He has prepared the right women to come alongside in her life to help guide her toward His purpose for her as He did for me in mine. And I am so very thankful that He has allowed me the gift of being one of those women.

And, for the record, so far I am deeply enjoying this whole mother-daughter thing from the mom end of things. It has been well worth the wait.

Ok. I’ll stop talking now. ;o)

Women, part 3

Now fast forward a few years to the time of meeting, befriending, loving, marrying and eventually having children with the man I am proud to call my husband…

When I first married my Man, I thought, “Who needs friends? I have a husband. He’ll make me happy and complete.”

Are you laughing with me here? Because I am. Oh, how naïve and innocent I was then. I was a few weeks shy of my 21st birthday when I married my Man. I thought I had it all. We bought our first house three months later and life was good. The neighbors seemed nice, we had decent jobs, the house was perfect for raising a family.

Life was good.

And then the babies came. And oh how long I had waited for them! (well, it felt like a long time... but patience was not a virtue I yet had at 22 years old...) Now, still I thought that aside from my long dreamed-of children, my husband was the only person I needed in my life. I was still under this delusion. I was not a believer at the time, so I didn’t think I needed God. I was close enough with my dad, but I was grown now and didn’t want to “need” him anymore, either. I certainly had no need whatsoever for my mom. And those other women? Oh well. I could do it just fine on my own.

I had nannied for the years before marriage and up to the time Punky was four months old and again, though I didn’t realize it, these women I was working with daily were filling me up with the stuff it takes to be a woman, a mother, a friend. It’s funny how clear everything is when looking back. Hindsight’s always 20/20, right? At the time it was just a job. Back when I watched those children as an adolescent and teenager, that was just fun work with cute babies. But those women, those moms behind the scenes… it’s only now as a woman and a mother myself do I see the important role they played in my life. I didn’t feel like I needed anyone, because I had always been blessed with people I didn’t even realize were there.

But as my family grew and my children got older and needed more of me - the deeper me, not just my arms and my breasts and my kisses, but my thoughts and my instruction and my constant attention - things started to change. Suddenly, my husband wasn’t enough. Suddenly he didn’t want to hear about the daily goings on now that we had our own kids. Or at least he did not want it in the minute and monotonous details that I was so fascinated and enthralled with. Suddenly I had questions and challenge and stories that I could not share with him. Suddenly I was a mother, a woman… and I was alone...

...To be continued AGAIN (getting down to the end here...)

Women, part 2

God knew I would eventually be called to be a mother and a wife. I remember being perplexed at my cousin even in kindergarten as she dreamed of fancy wedding dresses and ornate jewelry and decorations… and I just wanted to hurry up and have babies. So God, in all His infinite wisdom, groomed me for the plan that He had set up for me. He knew my mother would be absent, but instead of my heart turning away from that world of mothers, I began to long for that life that I missed out on. If I couldn’t have a mom there when I got home from school, than darnit, I was going to BE that mom someday. If I couldn’t have a mom to bake cookies with me and teach me to sew and cook and bake and talk with me, then I was going to do all that and more when I grew up and became a mom.

I went out of my way to play with other people’s babies. I was blessed with some women in my life who had small children, and since I was a responsible and kind young lady who adored children, I played with them and watched their children often. At the time I was just enjoying the time with small children, but what I didn’t know was that my young mind and heart were being filled with the stuff that families are made of. These women took me under their wing. They loved me, shopped with me, talked with me, comforted me, invited me into their homes and made cookies with me and let me enjoy their children and play with them and feel just a little bit like the (albeit older) daughter of a woman who actually loved her children. Though they were receiving the benefit of cheap or free help with their young families, they were also pouring their love out to me.

And I drank it in.

These women were such a huge blessing to me in my life. They were the ones who actually gave me glimpses into this world of women that I someday would be a part of. And they made it look like a world that I might actually enjoy living in.

And then as I grew into the upper years of high school and got caught up in friends and driving and boys (well, the idea of boys, though no real boys actually existed in my world – also by God’s grace in hindsight) and I moved on from these surrogate mothers in my life, but their presence remained in my heart. I saw them occasionally, and spent time with some mothers of my friends, but I took for granted their presence and only in hindsight did I really see any of these women for the angels that they were...

...To be continued again (part 3 will follow soon... I felt quite verbose on this topic, can you tell?)

Women, part 1

I’ve decided that I like women.

Now that may seem like a strange statement, but hear me out here.

I grew up as the only child to a single father. My mom moved out of the house just weeks after my second birthday, and never came back. She kept in touch and I visited her fairly often as long as we lived in the same state, but by the age of five, my dad and I left sunny California and headed north for rainy Washington. From that point on, to the best of my recollection, I only saw my mom for weekends once every two or three months, plus a week or so in the summer and a decent stint between Christmas and Thanksgiving.

By first grade I was BEGGING my dad to let me get a short hair cut. I refused to wear anything even remotely resembling girl clothes, including anything dress-like, anything pink, or anything with ruffles, ribbons, bows or fancy collars. By third grade I had a complete boy hair cut and actually gelled my hair to a stiff shine for school each day. I wore jeans, frumpy tee shirts and sweatshirts and even my dad’s long baggy shirts. I did not really like to play with girls too much and really and sincerely prayed a few times in my life that God would just make me a boy. I really wanted nothing to do with the world of women. As far as I was concerned, my dad was the only person in the world who mattered, and my mom was really not who I wanted to grow up to be like, so the world of men looked way more appealing to me.

Now the funny thing was I was a slight, prancy little girl with completely feminine tendencies and a girlish way about me. I loved babies and played "house" often. I had girly features and pretty hair (well, it would have been pretty had I let it get longer than my chin) and I flitted around in all my frumpy boy clothes with dainty little mannerisms. But still, I was in complete denial that I was created female.

Of course I didn’t really want to be a man either, and eventually I grew to appreciate the world of women and girls more by the time I hit middle school. I still remember a boy (a punky popular kid – the kind who can say something stupid and everyone else thinks it’s cool) asking me if I was a boy or a girl. I thought (but didn’t say out loud) “I’m wearing pink sweats, Stupid. What do you think I am?” But for the most part, I started making female friends and getting interested in boys and playing with Barbies and all that. So it worked out alright eventually.

And thankfully, though I was fairly unaware of it the whole time, God was there all along, working His grace in my life and guiding me right where He knew I needed to go...

...To be continued (part 2 will follow soon)

My Wonderful Man

There is just nothing sweeter than a man and his children thoroughly enjoying each other's company.

My husband has an outdoor job, and it was wet and rainy today. I think we had some near record floods even. There were threats of the only highway that leads to our small town being closed. But my Man made it home. He walked through the door (a good hour later than he'd planned) wet but happy to be here. He threw his work clothes in the wash so they could be ready for tomorrow and I brought down some fresh, dry sweats.

And then the fun began. That wonderful Man of mine just got down on the floor and let a couple of the boys tackle him and he listened to the excited explanations of the day's happenings. Punky told him all about how much flood water we'd seen on our drive to and from town for Girly Pie's 6 month checkup this morning and Daddy listened with full interest. Finny tackled and tickled and Punky went to get this new doodad that came in a ball pump package. It's a tee for football kicking. I'm sure there is a very technical term for the little plastic thingy that holds the football still so the kicker guy can kick it. But I'll be darned if I have a clue what that technical term might be. Anyway. Daddy knew the name. And Punky kicked the ball and Finny caught it. Daddy then gave them the basics of football and showed them how to properly tackle an opposing player who catches the ball. I'm a complete idiot when it comes to sports, and though my husband is quite knowledgeable on most sports, it's still not one of his major passions in life. So it was a novel thing tonight to have this sports tutorial.

But boy did those boys all have fun kicking and tackling and throwing around the family room. And my Man was smiling the whole time and so happy to be there with his boys. And I was getting the last bits of dinner ready and on the table for my beautiful family. And Goose (who apparently has an ear infection) finally got over the post-nap stupor he'd been fighting all afternoon and was just a complete goofy delight at dinner.

When my Man was spooning bites of stuffing into little Goose's mouth, Goose was standing in his booster seat (bad habit, it bugs me but Daddy doesn't mind so I don't fight it) doing a crazy little dance with each mouthful. It was hilarious.

And is it just me, or is there something just so darn cute and sexy about a man whose eyes twinkle at the sight of his kids doing something cute or sweet? I just love that.

And when Girly Pie spotted him he gave her his best Daddy grin and she was in the Moby wrap and did the full body wiggle of delight and bobbed her head down in this demure, faux-shy girly little move that none of the boys have ever done. It's funny to me that it seems to really delight her Daddy when she does that. That girl is going to win that man over hands down.

Ahhh. life is so sweet when you have such a wonderful, loving man to share it with, you know?

Doing this 30-Day Challenge has been neat, but I admit that it's not been life altering. Now don't get me wrong... I can definitely use the daily reminder to say something encouraging to him and to avoid the temptation to complain to him or about him when he does something I don't like. But on the whole I have realized that I am generally doing alright naturally at complimenting him and appreciating all that he does for me and for our family.

I know that had I tried it two or three years ago it would have been really difficult to follow through on. To give a quick rundown on the challenge, the goal is to go thirty days without saying anything negative to your husband or about him to anyone else. You also need to make sure you say at least one positive thing to him, and one positive thing about him to someone else, every day. I know that in years past this would have been very hard for me. I was quite disrespectful and undermining of my husband's role in our home and family for the vast majority of our relationship. But the sad part is that I didn't even see it as such. And to have tried this a few years back, even after becoming Christian, would have been really eye opening for me. But honestly, I've realized that I am already doing this most of the time in a conscious effort to be more respectful of him in general.

The real turning point for me in my attitude towards my husband was really when we read Emerson Eggerichs' Love and Respect about two years ago. It was really an awakening for me into how much I was taking away from his confidence by constantly trying to better him and "constructively" criticize him. The basic point the book makes is that men should love their wives unconditionally (and society seems to support this half of the equation) and that wives should respect their husbands unconditionally (this goes completely against societal norms - when is the last time you watched a prime time sitcom where the husband was treated with respect either by the wife or the children?). It was hard at first, but I was amazed at how quickly our relationship changed when I just started to focus on the things I did love and respect about my husband, and I tried to ignore or gloss over the things that I thought needed improvement.

Funny thing. Suddenly I really saw that he was this great guy, and he didn't really need much improvement after all. I was the one who needed improvement. And the icing on this lovely cake? He actually started doing nicer things for me and improving naturally in all the areas that I felt worries about previous to my change in attitude. Crazy, huh?

So, I bring all this up just to say that books like Love and Respect, and efforts like the 30-Day Challenge really can make an amazing difference in a marriage. I would never go so far as to say we had an unhappy marriage. But now that I make a general daily effort to appreciate the man that God has blessed me with I find that our relationship is, on the whole, a beautiful one.

I am one very blessed woman. And I love that my husband lets me know that he feels like a very blessed man, too.

Blue

I'm a little blue today. I just have days where it all seems so fleeting. I love this time, my children so small and still needing me so much. I love this time in life, this season. The vast majority of the time I feel so blessed in this day that I do not look ahead to tomorrow, when the unknown will come. But I have days now and then where I let the fears of tomorrow creep in and whisper in my ear.

Today and yesterday have been like that I guess.


Will it be OK when my kids are grown and don't need me anymore? Will I know who I am then? Can I be someone besides Punky, Finny, Goose and Girly Pie's mom?


I don’t know.


But I'll get over it. By the end of today I'll be right back in Psalm 118:24... This is the day the LORD has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

But for the moment, I'm wondering about tomorrow and being a little sad for the yesterdays gone by.

My Finny will be five in January, you know. I'm not ready for that one to get big, I think. He's my soft spot. I can't imagine a world without a Little Finny in it. But that world is creeping up on me so much faster than I am ready for. He'll be big soon enough. His cute little toddler and preschooler ways will fade away and the bigger, older, more mature Finny will take that place.

So I am just fighting the natural progression of things today.

Anyway. Not sure why I shared all that. Maybe you understand. Maybe not. I know I cherish these young years a lot, possibly more than most people. So maybe it is easier for some as their babies grow into children and finally adults. But for me, it's tough to let them go. And I homeschool, so it's not even like they're physically going anywhere! ;o) It's just hard sometimes to watch who they were disappear as who they were created to be takes shape, you know?

OK, enough of that. Off I go to bake brownies with my biggest boy. Our Friday baking time together. Time to just soak in all of today that I can.

Love.

Biblically speaking, Love is much more of an act than a feeling. It is so easy to say “I love you” to somebody, but it really is so much more difficult to SHOW “I love you” to very many people at all.

Today, I find myself struggling to show Love to, of all people, my two year old Goose.

According to Paul in 1 Corinthians, Love should be patient and kind. It is not proud or rude, nor is it self seeking. Love is not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs, and never fails.

Now, do I love my Goose? Absolutely without a doubt and with all my heart. I feel love for him more than I can find words to express. But do I actively show Love to Goose? Well, today I think I am doing a decent job, but I have to say I am working exceptionally hard to do so.

Let me just give you a little glimpse into a day in Benny's house when Goose decides to try on the full superhero suit for Toddler Man…

First, Goose wakes up in a delightful mood, full of vim and vinegar, ready to take on the world. He gleefully chants “MOMMY!” as Daddy carries him into our room while Girly Pie and I come to consciousness a few minutes before the sun actually rises. He kisses and hugs me and joyfully embraces his baby sister. He is all sunshine and roses.

Then, something goes wrong.

At some point between waking up and eating breakfast, the little imaginary devil on the toddler’s shoulder starts whispering in his ear, “Uh oh, you’ve been way too cute and sweet today. Better not let them get too comfortable. Time to step up the drama a bit there, Bucko.”

And it’s like a switch flips.

Suddenly, it’s a day full of tantrums, potty accidents (and the kid has been clean and dry for ages, it’s come out of left field this week!), destroying brothers’ property, crying and yelling, refusing to comply with basic household expectations, knock down drag out fits over the nap he so desperately needs (and this kid NEVER throws fits over sleep. He LOVES sleep!). He takes himself out of time outs, he rips off his nap diaper, he throws his body around in fits of rage that would be frightening if I’d not already had two boys come and go through the throes of twodom. I do not have the words to describe it, but if you’ve ever had a two year old with any sort of defiant temperament, well, I’m sure you have an idea of what I mean.

And it all seems to come from nowhere. He could just choose to be cute, happy and content. Many days, he does. But today, not so much.

It really is just all a bit difficult to handle even under the best of circumstances. But throw in a four month old who through no fault of her own has to be set down and left alone at times (she can only do that gracefully so many times in one morning), and two bigger boys who are (thank the Lord) being oh so patient and quietly enjoying a morning FULL of free time… and, well, sometimes the expectations of the act of Love just feel like a bit much.

But, as a mom who does dearly Loves her boy, I am pleased to be able to say that as I look over the list of God’s definition of Love, I do believe I have been able to show him the Love I feel, even today.

I see how hard it must be for him. He has to share his mom with three other people. He has to go to the bathroom where we tell him to, he must go to nap when I decide, he can’t play with all the toys he sees because many of them are not even his, he can’t even get my lap to himself most of the time because there is a new little baby in it. Some days he’s happy to just enjoy life and smile through it all. Other days, he has to rebel against the Powers That Be (namely Me, since Daddy still seems to walk on water to that boy…) to try and stake his claim as an independent person who surely does not need a Mommy to do anything for him.

It really must be hard to be two. I can see it in his face. I can see how hard it is for him to have so little control, especially when he loses it completely in one of his epic tantrums.

But I can see it most when he finally succumbs to peace, and I hear the quiet in his room where only moments before there was screaming. When I open the door, and instead of finding him pounding on it like he had been, I see him in his bed where he has tucked himself in as best as he could, and is now calmly waiting with his head on his pillow, his binky (our first binky boy… I know it needs to go, but neither he nor Mom and Dad are ready to give it up just yet…) planted in his sweet soft lips, his thick brown hair wet with sweat and pushed back off of his forehead. And as he looks up at me with his big, tired eyes, a little shudder in his breath from all the crying, I can see how much better he feels now, because I am there.

After all that, after all his hard earned misery and after all that he can throw at me in a morning, he knows that when I walk back into that room I still Love him.

And that is why I do what I do. That is why I hold back the frustration and why I try so very hard not to raise my voice. That is why I stay and why I make sure that even when they are behaving terribly, that I tell them that I love them. Why I show them that I Love them.

I grew up with one wonderful, loving father who was there for me no matter what. And I grew up without a mother, because she chose to leave when I was just Goose’s age. And no matter how much my dad loved me and no matter how great he was, I always doubted his love as a child. I always suspected if I could do something bad enough to make my mom go, than I could do something bad enough to make him leave, too.

Now of course as an adult I know that I did not drive my mom away. I can’t say I have a close relationship with her at this point, but I always knew her and she stayed in my life, and I know I would not be who I am today if she had not played her part in that. I know that God’s hand was in it all.

But this I know only in hindsight.

And as I look at my babies, my four beautiful gifts from God, I know that I never, EVER want them to wonder if they might be able to do something “bad” enough that I might stop loving them.

So after his little soul had come back to peace and he was no longer fighting against the simple realities of life, Goose lay there in his bed looking up at me, wondering just what it was I might do. There are, after all, consequences in our house when you do things wrong. And I know he wondered if he was in trouble for losing control the way he did. He wondered what would happen when I saw the nap diaper he’d defiantly ripped off and thrown to the floor.

And of course, because I am his mom, and because I Love him, I did what any Loving mom would do. I smiled at him with eyes that were full of my Love, and I gently wiped the sweat off of his brow. I kissed his face in the little game we play (I’m going to kiss your… eyes! I’m going to kiss your… nose!). I told him how much I loved him and how I knew it was hard for him. I put his diaper back on (and he did not fight me this time) and I tucked him in right. I turned on his music and snuggled him up with his Blankie. I got him a sip of water and kissed him a few more times, and I gave him a really long hug, soft but sure, so he’d know how much I meant it (but wouldn’t feel confined, heaven forbid!) and I told him again that I Loved him.

And when I left his room, he was calm and at peace. And I know that he knew he was Loved.

And the coolest part? The coolest part is that THAT is how God loves US! No matter how "bad" we are, no matter how much we mess things up. That is the missing part of the puzzle that I did not have as a child when I wondered if my dad might go too. That unconditional love, the Love that not even all moms have for their own babies even when you think every mom should, that Love that never leaves, never fails, never ever falters even a little bit. I am glad that I can give my children just a taste of that now when they are young, just like my dad did with me when I was little. And I pray that as they grow, they do know God’s Love that way, too. I hope they can see God’s Love in their dad and in me. I hope they can pass it on to their own families someday.

And, to be honest, I just hope Goose is happy tomorrow. I can do this for days on end. But boy, is it tiring. I think we could both use a happy, smiley day full of hugs, games, smiles and laughing.

But, if not, I've got plenty more Love to give. Because I've been given so much Love myself.