Today, like most days when you are a full-time working mother of 3, was busy. Tonight was an annual Christmas gathering that I have been participating in since before Jay and I got married, but weeks ago when the discussion started about where to have it and what time, I respectfully bowed out this year. For one, it's a busy time. And two, it involves a gift exchange. Money is tight being that I was on a 10 week maternity leave this year and added a third child to my crew. I just felt it best to sit out this year.
After this weeks events and the degree of stress, my husband urged me to go. I was reminded by the other ladies that go that it was not about gifts, so regardless of if I brought something, I was welcome and wanted. I still didn't feel up to it.
Later this afternoon, my husband reminded me how infrequently we get chances nowadays to go places without at least ONE child. I decided to just go. I rushed out to buy gifts (I just couldn't go empty handed, and shopping is one of my very favorite things to do anyways...) and headed on my way. Go figure, my low fuel light turned on. Typical Laura. I hate stopping to get gas. I REALLY hate it when it's cold and I have somewhere to be. Thankfully, there was a gas station right on the way so I wouldn't have to deviate from my route at all. This was better than nothing.
As I pull in to the empty station, I glance down at the fuel gauge to be reminded what side the gas thing-a-ma-jig was on. What I did not notice was the man rummaging through the garbage can for cans RIGHT next to the pump I planned to use. Crap. I was alone and no other cars were around. Awkward! But I had places to be, so I figured I'd just get gas and get out of there.
As I stepped out, the man looked up at me and said, "Ma'am? Do you have any money you can spare? I need bus fare." I gave him the line he likely hears often: "I don't have any cash on me. So sorry!" ...such a lie. Sure, I didn't have wads of bills in my purse. But I had cash. And a credit card. When I fed him my fib, he smiled, said, "Okay, no problem!" and went back to rummaging. I went back to pumping gas. Roughly $50 worth. Inside my warm car, I had gifts aplenty. Gifts for the party I was headed to and gifts for my children. MORE gifts, I should say, as I had plenty more stashed at home.
I watched the man. He was disheveled. He had a warm coat on, but had wounds to his face. Nothing severe, but indications that something had happened to him. As my car filled with gas, my mind kept wandering to the $10 I KNEW I had in my purse. Give it to him, Laura. No! He was probably some alcoholic or drug addict. He'd take my hard earned cash and blow it on his addiction. It's $10. You can easily go to the ATM and get out more, if you need it. And you DON'T need it right now. Why would I feed this mans addiction? Look at him: rummaging through the garbage. Get a job. I have one. I work HARD for my money. Ten dollars or $100, I make my money. Go make your own! GIVE. IT. TO. HIM. LAURA. I think back to just today: I woke up in my own home. Took a hot shower. Got dressed. Went to two holiday parties already and was already overly full on delicious food. I spent well over $100 on gifts. Things my children don't even NEED, but they WANT. Picked up a snack for myself somewhere in there. Here I was, putting gasoline, a full tank, mind you, into my reliable vehicle to go to yet another party with delicious food and presents that I don't NEED, but I enjoy. After the party, I would head back home to my home and go to bed.
"Sir? This is all I have on me, but I want you to have it." He looked up, with a measly two cans he had found in amongst all the garbage cans at that particular station. "Oh, ma'am! Thank you, thank you so much!" I smiled at him, wished him a happy holidays, and drove away.
I don't know where my $10 went tonight. Maybe it went to drugs. Maybe it bought some alcohol. Maybe it DID buy bus fare or maybe it went towards a gallon of milk and bread. But really...does it matter? I am not rich. I am FAR from rich. Money is a daily stress in my life and yes, my husband and I do work very hard for what we have, and what we have isn't anything fancy by any means. But the point is... we have. We have a home. We have cars. We have food in our bellies and while you can never be 100% certain, the chances that we will always have these essentials are pretty darn good. I have never rummaged through a garbage can looking for cans to turn in, nor have I asked a complete stranger for money. It doesn't matter what that man did with my money. What matters is that he knows for ONE second, a moment of gratitude to receive it when he was initially turned away. For ONE second he knew a little bit of happiness to receive what he was looking for. For ONE second, he got a smile and well wishes from a stranger rather than some form of "go away".
I wanted my $10. I did. I'm selfish and I like money and I like to spend money. But I am SO THANKFUL that I listened to that voice inside that said give it to him, Laura. I have so much to be thankful for. So many blessings in my life. I pray, whoever he is, that by giving him a measly $10, he felt a little bit blessed as well.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Today was simply exhausting.
I got to Ethan's school a little early, and on a whim, decided to go in and mention to the principal about Ethan's latest writing in his planner. My intention of mentioning it was to bring up the possibility of switching his classroom. We never got that far. His principal said that her son is similar and what Ethan is going through it "probably hormones, as he is getting to that age." He's 9. He's not at that age. I still help him bathe occasionally, for pete's sake. Girls still have cooties and are "gross" and he still runs around the house in his underwear without a care in the world. Puberty is not upon us, folks, and there are no other excuses other than my son is struggling with depression.
I left that discussion pretty disheartened. It was certainly NOT what I expected to hear.
Later in the day, he had his appointment with a counselor. It was his first appointment. He was angry that I didn't warn him about it, but I know him, and I know regardless of when I told him, he would be upset and not want to go. It made no difference. I apologized, but still told him we were going. When we got there at 2:30, we learned that the scheduler made a mistake and the counselor he was assigned to didn't see people under the age of 12. They said he could still be seen, but it would be by someone else, and it would be at 4. Not good. My son doesn't handle changes in plans well. I gave him the option of hanging out there, or going to the book store. He excitedly said he wanted to go to the bookstore, so off we headed.
It ended up being a GREAT time. We discussed how book stores are becoming obsolete. This particular one was closing and everything was 50% off. We talked about how now everyone downloaded their books rather than purchase them off the shelves. He is an avid reader, and he agreed that nothing beats the actual book itself. When we got inside, we parted ways: he headed towards the children's books and myself towards the adult books. We met in the middle. He found 5 books for himself and I found 3 books for myself. As we were paying, he asked if our purchases would help save the bookstore. Bless his heart.
Afterwards, we headed back to the office. Our first appointment was okay. It was an hour long and mostly just assessments. Ethan spent the time curled up in the chair, playing with a toy that was out while the counselor asked me questions about him, from my pregnancy through now. So many things to discuss and so little time. How do you summarize some one's life in an hour? One part that made my heart swell was when the counselor asked Ethan, "On a scale of 1-10, 10 being that you love her and you could hug her all the time to 1, where you hate her and never want to see her again, how do you rate your relationship with your teacher?" Ethan thought for a few moments, then said, "Could you please tell me what the rest of the numbers mean?"
At 5:10, we were scheduled for parent/teacher conferences. Thankfully, Ethan's dad was already there. I tried SO hard to be there, but unfortunately missed it because we didn't get out in time. Jay's report on it made me see red. To summarize, the teacher said we were "enabling" Ethan. Enabling him? Really? I was livid. This is not the end. I have already sent an e-mail to meet again with more time allotted. If I don't get a response tomorrow, I will personally go there.
Since I missed conferences and Jay relayed how unproductive it was, I met with the principal yet again, and stressed to her how important I felt it was to sit down with Jay and I, along with his teacher and the principal. Her response this time was that I already had a meeting with the social worker, so let's start there, first.
I just can't help but feel like I am not being taken seriously. This is MY child. I have been extremely patient and kind. But when it comes to my child, especially when it is so clear to me that he is in distress, it doesn't take much for me to lose my patience. If tomorrow doesn't go well with some sort of plan, I will be contacting the Board of Education. If THAT doesn't help, well, I don't know. I just don't know. I never, EVER anticipated this would be such a struggle. I think I had this sugar-coated impression that schools would do whatever they could to help a child succeed. I am seeing first hand that is certainly NOT the case, and instead they are turning a blind eye and more or less hoping if we pretend it doesn't exist, then it doesn't exist.
I don't have all the answers. I don't know what the best plan is for my son. I don't know if I am handling all of this in the right manner. Am I being to passive or too aggressive? Am I being unrealistic or am I doing exactly what I should be doing? I just don't know, but I do know that in the end, my child will come out on top. I can promise you that. I can promise HIM that. He deserves it.
I got to Ethan's school a little early, and on a whim, decided to go in and mention to the principal about Ethan's latest writing in his planner. My intention of mentioning it was to bring up the possibility of switching his classroom. We never got that far. His principal said that her son is similar and what Ethan is going through it "probably hormones, as he is getting to that age." He's 9. He's not at that age. I still help him bathe occasionally, for pete's sake. Girls still have cooties and are "gross" and he still runs around the house in his underwear without a care in the world. Puberty is not upon us, folks, and there are no other excuses other than my son is struggling with depression.
I left that discussion pretty disheartened. It was certainly NOT what I expected to hear.
Later in the day, he had his appointment with a counselor. It was his first appointment. He was angry that I didn't warn him about it, but I know him, and I know regardless of when I told him, he would be upset and not want to go. It made no difference. I apologized, but still told him we were going. When we got there at 2:30, we learned that the scheduler made a mistake and the counselor he was assigned to didn't see people under the age of 12. They said he could still be seen, but it would be by someone else, and it would be at 4. Not good. My son doesn't handle changes in plans well. I gave him the option of hanging out there, or going to the book store. He excitedly said he wanted to go to the bookstore, so off we headed.
It ended up being a GREAT time. We discussed how book stores are becoming obsolete. This particular one was closing and everything was 50% off. We talked about how now everyone downloaded their books rather than purchase them off the shelves. He is an avid reader, and he agreed that nothing beats the actual book itself. When we got inside, we parted ways: he headed towards the children's books and myself towards the adult books. We met in the middle. He found 5 books for himself and I found 3 books for myself. As we were paying, he asked if our purchases would help save the bookstore. Bless his heart.
Afterwards, we headed back to the office. Our first appointment was okay. It was an hour long and mostly just assessments. Ethan spent the time curled up in the chair, playing with a toy that was out while the counselor asked me questions about him, from my pregnancy through now. So many things to discuss and so little time. How do you summarize some one's life in an hour? One part that made my heart swell was when the counselor asked Ethan, "On a scale of 1-10, 10 being that you love her and you could hug her all the time to 1, where you hate her and never want to see her again, how do you rate your relationship with your teacher?" Ethan thought for a few moments, then said, "Could you please tell me what the rest of the numbers mean?"
At 5:10, we were scheduled for parent/teacher conferences. Thankfully, Ethan's dad was already there. I tried SO hard to be there, but unfortunately missed it because we didn't get out in time. Jay's report on it made me see red. To summarize, the teacher said we were "enabling" Ethan. Enabling him? Really? I was livid. This is not the end. I have already sent an e-mail to meet again with more time allotted. If I don't get a response tomorrow, I will personally go there.
Since I missed conferences and Jay relayed how unproductive it was, I met with the principal yet again, and stressed to her how important I felt it was to sit down with Jay and I, along with his teacher and the principal. Her response this time was that I already had a meeting with the social worker, so let's start there, first.
I just can't help but feel like I am not being taken seriously. This is MY child. I have been extremely patient and kind. But when it comes to my child, especially when it is so clear to me that he is in distress, it doesn't take much for me to lose my patience. If tomorrow doesn't go well with some sort of plan, I will be contacting the Board of Education. If THAT doesn't help, well, I don't know. I just don't know. I never, EVER anticipated this would be such a struggle. I think I had this sugar-coated impression that schools would do whatever they could to help a child succeed. I am seeing first hand that is certainly NOT the case, and instead they are turning a blind eye and more or less hoping if we pretend it doesn't exist, then it doesn't exist.
I don't have all the answers. I don't know what the best plan is for my son. I don't know if I am handling all of this in the right manner. Am I being to passive or too aggressive? Am I being unrealistic or am I doing exactly what I should be doing? I just don't know, but I do know that in the end, my child will come out on top. I can promise you that. I can promise HIM that. He deserves it.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Oh, my heart.
Ethan's school gives the kids planners. They are responsible for keeping track of what they did that day and highlighting any homework. I think it's a fantastic idea.
Today Ethan's planner came home and in the sidebar he wrote, "I need to get out of here." Then beneath that, "I need a break." The first he dated 12/1/13, the second he dated 12/4/13. Under both of those he drew a stick figure of a boy crying, tear and all.
I called him out to the living room and casually said, "What does this mean?" He responded with, "I'm just so tired of being yelled at."
My heart just broke. HE looked broken. He looked sad and his eyes were vacant. And what blows my mind is I have offered to switch his class and he will quietly say, "No, I am fine." I have repeatedly assured him that if we switch classes, there would be no repercussions. No one would be angry with him and he would not get in trouble or hurt anyone's feelings if we did. He still kept saying he was okay.
We received the assessment tool from his teacher for evaluating ADD. I have zero idea how they score it, as it's based on her assessment, mine, and Ethan's father. They combine them and somehow figure out if a child has the diagnosis or not. All of ours are negative on the questions pertaining to overly active or impulsive but they are all completely positive for everything else, including the inability to focus, lack of organization, inability to complete a task and stay on task, etc. I just feel deep down I know where this is going, and it is very uncertain territory.
Tomorrow is parent/teacher conferences. The planner is coming with me so I can bring it up. He also starts his counseling sessions tomorrow, and the planner will come with me there as well, along with all the documentation from his pediatric specialist.
I don't know what the "right" answer is. Some might say the answer is blatantly clear: get him into a better environment and see what happens. Others say that you can't pick and chose the different people you encounter in life, and this is one of thousands of challenging situations he will encounter and he needs to learn to cope. I am somewhere in the middle. I get angry, then I get sad. I get frustrated, then I get motivated. I get annoyed, then I get sympathetic. It fluctuates nonstop and I just don't know what is "right."
Parenting handbook, you out there?
Ethan's school gives the kids planners. They are responsible for keeping track of what they did that day and highlighting any homework. I think it's a fantastic idea.
Today Ethan's planner came home and in the sidebar he wrote, "I need to get out of here." Then beneath that, "I need a break." The first he dated 12/1/13, the second he dated 12/4/13. Under both of those he drew a stick figure of a boy crying, tear and all.
I called him out to the living room and casually said, "What does this mean?" He responded with, "I'm just so tired of being yelled at."
My heart just broke. HE looked broken. He looked sad and his eyes were vacant. And what blows my mind is I have offered to switch his class and he will quietly say, "No, I am fine." I have repeatedly assured him that if we switch classes, there would be no repercussions. No one would be angry with him and he would not get in trouble or hurt anyone's feelings if we did. He still kept saying he was okay.
We received the assessment tool from his teacher for evaluating ADD. I have zero idea how they score it, as it's based on her assessment, mine, and Ethan's father. They combine them and somehow figure out if a child has the diagnosis or not. All of ours are negative on the questions pertaining to overly active or impulsive but they are all completely positive for everything else, including the inability to focus, lack of organization, inability to complete a task and stay on task, etc. I just feel deep down I know where this is going, and it is very uncertain territory.
Tomorrow is parent/teacher conferences. The planner is coming with me so I can bring it up. He also starts his counseling sessions tomorrow, and the planner will come with me there as well, along with all the documentation from his pediatric specialist.
I don't know what the "right" answer is. Some might say the answer is blatantly clear: get him into a better environment and see what happens. Others say that you can't pick and chose the different people you encounter in life, and this is one of thousands of challenging situations he will encounter and he needs to learn to cope. I am somewhere in the middle. I get angry, then I get sad. I get frustrated, then I get motivated. I get annoyed, then I get sympathetic. It fluctuates nonstop and I just don't know what is "right."
Parenting handbook, you out there?
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Kids to Leslie and back to kids
Oh, my word! I have missed my blog so, so much! Right around when I was due to deliver Evan, so back in May, our laptop started giving us issues. We went weeks without it, and nothing was officially found to be wrong, but it just never worked right. Then Internet Explorer started giving us issues so I switched to Google Chrome, simply because it was already downloaded onto our computer. It worked fine, but then we started getting a gazillion pop-ups. I had a pop-up blocker, and that wasn't helping, for some reason. Programs I used to use were not compatible with Google Chrome, including my blog, so I had to go on a major hiatus. Fortunately, I still got all my thoughts out, but unfortunately, I had nowhere to document them. It's far more therapeutic for me to write them out than to just sort through them in my mind, so let's just say: I am finally back!
This blog has taken a few shifts. First, it was a continuation of my livejournal, which I started nearly 10 years ago when I found out I was pregnant with Ethan. That style of writing had a more "Dear Diary" feel to it. It was (and is!) fun to look back on those times and I am so happy I have it all documented. When I switched to a blog, I started slacking in writing. Partly because then I had 2 children to care for so life became busier, and partly because I lost the desire to write. If I don't feel it, I can't force it.
When Leslie got sick is when my blog got a ton of attention. She has so many people that love and care about her, it was PERFECT for keeping everyone informed. And again, it was so therapeutic to be alone with my thoughts and dumping them out on the keyboard.
Now my blog is about to take another turn. I won't deviate from Leslie entirely, but really, no news is good news, and she is doing so amazingly well. It won't be so focused on her recovery, but her recovery is still a huge part of my life, so it will still be brought up. Now I want to focus back more on my life and more specifically, Ethan's life. I have discussed Ethan's issues before, I think immediately before Leslie got sick. Just little quirks he had and how frustrating they could be. That was 4ish years ago. Since then, he started showing more physical signs, including tics. I had him evaluated by a neurologist to rule out Tourette's Syndrome or some other neurological disorder. I was told his tics were benign, and it was related more to anxiety and stress. He was put on a low dose anti-depressant that worked well for anxiety, and things were okay for a while.
Right before Evan was born 6 months ago, we were blessed with an AMAZING opportunity to see, who I think, is the greatest pediatric behavioral specialist EVER. For the first time in Ethan's life, he had a complete examination, exploring all of his quirky behavior issues, and received an official diagnosis. Right now the diagnosis is generalized anxiety disorder, sensory processing disorder, and OCD. I have done a ton of reading on these, and I agree with them. I am more convinced with OCD over the sensory processing disorder, but regardless, they kind of go hand-in-hand. His medication was adjusted, and since then, we have been okay.
Over the past summer and into this school year, Ethan has had some significant setbacks. He went from having interests to having none except his iPod. He went from caring about things SO much, to not caring about anything or anyone. He preferred to be isolated in his room. He didn't play outside, he didn't ride a bike, nothing. He'd have play dates with his friends and have a great time, but still preferred to be alone over anything else.
His 4th grade teacher this year is stricter than most teachers he has had. She is very firm on organization and independence in her students, which I think is very important. However, I know my child and I know these are issues he struggles with in a big way. His brain is chaotic so his organizational skills are chaotic. He is a major introvert (diagnosed!) so he'd rather just go unnoticed. This teacher is what I would call an older generation teacher. And as much as I hate to make generalizations, it seems the older generation see diagnoses like Ethan and see it as an excuse for bad behavior. I actually totally understand that thought process, and in some instances, I agree with it. I think kids are overly diagnosed and overly medicated. I think parents would rather make an excuse for their child acting out than to actually help the child. THIS IS NOT THE TYPE OF PARENT I AM. I will bend over backwards for the teachers my kids have. I WANT my kids to be successful, and I want their teachers to have a great year. But I can't force them to understand my child if they aren't going to even try. Our most recent visit to the specialist started the possible diagnosis of ADD. When she said that, I immediately said, "No, he is definitely not ADD." ...but then I saw the checklist that is filled out by the parents and teacher to assist in an ADD diagnosis and read it realizing it described Ethan almost exactly. I was SHOCKED. And fascinated. How amazing would it be to know exactly what was going on in that little brain of his and FIX IT??
So that is where we are now. Conferences are next week. I am waiting to get the teacher evaluation back and once I get it, I'll be taking it to the pediatrician to analyze and hopefully by the time he has his follow-up in 6 weeks, I will know if he meets the criteria for ADD. I am also learning all I can about 504 plans, which is a plan I can create (with the teacher) for ways to help Ethan succeed. For instance, he is fidgety and always has his hands moving. He usually will draw on everything. His teacher does not like his and has made it very clear that she does not want him drawing. My question is...why? If he gets his work done, is not disrupting others...why? A 504 would make it so legally she has to allow him to draw or do SOME type of activity with his hands (stress ball, silly putty to squeeze, etc.) If this would help him stay focused, I am all for it. A 504 would make it so even if the teacher disagreed, it would still need to be implemented for Ethan's success.
Next week he sees a psychologist for the first time as well, to help him with his coping mechanisms and just be someone neutral to talk to.
This is the start of a long journey, but it's for my child, so I am ready to tackle it head on.
This blog has taken a few shifts. First, it was a continuation of my livejournal, which I started nearly 10 years ago when I found out I was pregnant with Ethan. That style of writing had a more "Dear Diary" feel to it. It was (and is!) fun to look back on those times and I am so happy I have it all documented. When I switched to a blog, I started slacking in writing. Partly because then I had 2 children to care for so life became busier, and partly because I lost the desire to write. If I don't feel it, I can't force it.
When Leslie got sick is when my blog got a ton of attention. She has so many people that love and care about her, it was PERFECT for keeping everyone informed. And again, it was so therapeutic to be alone with my thoughts and dumping them out on the keyboard.
Now my blog is about to take another turn. I won't deviate from Leslie entirely, but really, no news is good news, and she is doing so amazingly well. It won't be so focused on her recovery, but her recovery is still a huge part of my life, so it will still be brought up. Now I want to focus back more on my life and more specifically, Ethan's life. I have discussed Ethan's issues before, I think immediately before Leslie got sick. Just little quirks he had and how frustrating they could be. That was 4ish years ago. Since then, he started showing more physical signs, including tics. I had him evaluated by a neurologist to rule out Tourette's Syndrome or some other neurological disorder. I was told his tics were benign, and it was related more to anxiety and stress. He was put on a low dose anti-depressant that worked well for anxiety, and things were okay for a while.
Right before Evan was born 6 months ago, we were blessed with an AMAZING opportunity to see, who I think, is the greatest pediatric behavioral specialist EVER. For the first time in Ethan's life, he had a complete examination, exploring all of his quirky behavior issues, and received an official diagnosis. Right now the diagnosis is generalized anxiety disorder, sensory processing disorder, and OCD. I have done a ton of reading on these, and I agree with them. I am more convinced with OCD over the sensory processing disorder, but regardless, they kind of go hand-in-hand. His medication was adjusted, and since then, we have been okay.
Over the past summer and into this school year, Ethan has had some significant setbacks. He went from having interests to having none except his iPod. He went from caring about things SO much, to not caring about anything or anyone. He preferred to be isolated in his room. He didn't play outside, he didn't ride a bike, nothing. He'd have play dates with his friends and have a great time, but still preferred to be alone over anything else.
His 4th grade teacher this year is stricter than most teachers he has had. She is very firm on organization and independence in her students, which I think is very important. However, I know my child and I know these are issues he struggles with in a big way. His brain is chaotic so his organizational skills are chaotic. He is a major introvert (diagnosed!) so he'd rather just go unnoticed. This teacher is what I would call an older generation teacher. And as much as I hate to make generalizations, it seems the older generation see diagnoses like Ethan and see it as an excuse for bad behavior. I actually totally understand that thought process, and in some instances, I agree with it. I think kids are overly diagnosed and overly medicated. I think parents would rather make an excuse for their child acting out than to actually help the child. THIS IS NOT THE TYPE OF PARENT I AM. I will bend over backwards for the teachers my kids have. I WANT my kids to be successful, and I want their teachers to have a great year. But I can't force them to understand my child if they aren't going to even try. Our most recent visit to the specialist started the possible diagnosis of ADD. When she said that, I immediately said, "No, he is definitely not ADD." ...but then I saw the checklist that is filled out by the parents and teacher to assist in an ADD diagnosis and read it realizing it described Ethan almost exactly. I was SHOCKED. And fascinated. How amazing would it be to know exactly what was going on in that little brain of his and FIX IT??
So that is where we are now. Conferences are next week. I am waiting to get the teacher evaluation back and once I get it, I'll be taking it to the pediatrician to analyze and hopefully by the time he has his follow-up in 6 weeks, I will know if he meets the criteria for ADD. I am also learning all I can about 504 plans, which is a plan I can create (with the teacher) for ways to help Ethan succeed. For instance, he is fidgety and always has his hands moving. He usually will draw on everything. His teacher does not like his and has made it very clear that she does not want him drawing. My question is...why? If he gets his work done, is not disrupting others...why? A 504 would make it so legally she has to allow him to draw or do SOME type of activity with his hands (stress ball, silly putty to squeeze, etc.) If this would help him stay focused, I am all for it. A 504 would make it so even if the teacher disagreed, it would still need to be implemented for Ethan's success.
Next week he sees a psychologist for the first time as well, to help him with his coping mechanisms and just be someone neutral to talk to.
This is the start of a long journey, but it's for my child, so I am ready to tackle it head on.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
If my husband were to say to me right this second, "I think I'd like to try for a fourth baby." ...I'd be ALL for it! Before, I always said I was d-o-n-e, but lately, as I care for Evan, my heart just feels so full of love, I just know I have room to love more.
But then I really think about it. Is my heart telling me to have more because I truly want more children? Or is my heart FINALLY at peace, and I am FINALLY allowing myself to just enjoy what I have? I have always been the type of person to think there is something more out there. Something better. Everything I had? It's good, but I could have BETTER. I could have MORE. That's not necessarily a bad thing to be like. You should always chase your dreams. I'm not really talking about it like that, though. For me, it was just never been satisfied with what I had. And that is a shame.
I can try to break it down: My family of 5 and 2 dogs live in a home that is less than 1000 square feet. We have always driven new, fancy cars, but now we have one leased car and one used car. Okay, van. A used van. No features. Our house is small and our bedrooms are tiny. So tiny, in fact, that now that we have three children, my husband and I had to retreat to the stinky basement to sleep so the kids could have their own rooms. It's not a luxury that they have their own rooms, it's a necessity. There is no room for more than one child per room. We don't have carpet in our living room because after one of our dogs got violently ill on the area rug, we literally had no choice but to get rid of it. It's not in the budget to replace it, so we have hardwood floors that are less than perfect. Most of our furniture is hand-me-downs and our kids need new bedroom furniture in the worst way. We could certainly use new paint jobs in several rooms and I am pretty certain we don't have matching window treatments in any of our rooms. There is dog hair under the couch and finger prints on the windows. The front door sticks when you close it and the side door creaks in the worst way. We desperately need a plummer to check out our bathroom sink, since the hot tap water doesn't work and the drain is constantly clogged. Shall I go on?
On the flip-side? We have a home. And it's a nice home. On cold days we are warmed by heat and on hot days we are cooled by air conditioner. Our kids have their own spaces with their own toys. Nice toys. We have Internet and a laptop. We have cell phones, DVR, and a big screen TV. We have two dogs that live like royalty. One dog has stomach issues and we are able to provide him with a special dog food that is pricey. He was a rescue, and it would be easier to give him back, but instead we do what he needs to be comfortable. We never go to bed hungry and we have two reliable vehicles. We have supportive families that would walk to the ends of the earth for us. We have reliable jobs and health insurance. We have love. A LOT of love. Our kids have a great education and are involved in extra curriculars of their choosing. We have a church we call home and the knowledge that God will provide.
All my life I wanted more, more, more. Looking at Evan, I appreciate the things I can give him. I love seeing him snuggled in bed, warm and comfortable. I love giving him a bottle, knowing his belly is full. I love seeing his smile, knowing he is happy. He is ALWAYS happy. I can take these feelings and say, "I love this so much, I want to do it with another child!" ...or I can take these feelings as, "I am finally at peace." I have all I want, I have all I need. There will always be bigger and better, but it's not a requirement to live.
With God's grace, I will learn to simplify and appreciate. Because I have so, so much to be appreciative of.
But then I really think about it. Is my heart telling me to have more because I truly want more children? Or is my heart FINALLY at peace, and I am FINALLY allowing myself to just enjoy what I have? I have always been the type of person to think there is something more out there. Something better. Everything I had? It's good, but I could have BETTER. I could have MORE. That's not necessarily a bad thing to be like. You should always chase your dreams. I'm not really talking about it like that, though. For me, it was just never been satisfied with what I had. And that is a shame.
I can try to break it down: My family of 5 and 2 dogs live in a home that is less than 1000 square feet. We have always driven new, fancy cars, but now we have one leased car and one used car. Okay, van. A used van. No features. Our house is small and our bedrooms are tiny. So tiny, in fact, that now that we have three children, my husband and I had to retreat to the stinky basement to sleep so the kids could have their own rooms. It's not a luxury that they have their own rooms, it's a necessity. There is no room for more than one child per room. We don't have carpet in our living room because after one of our dogs got violently ill on the area rug, we literally had no choice but to get rid of it. It's not in the budget to replace it, so we have hardwood floors that are less than perfect. Most of our furniture is hand-me-downs and our kids need new bedroom furniture in the worst way. We could certainly use new paint jobs in several rooms and I am pretty certain we don't have matching window treatments in any of our rooms. There is dog hair under the couch and finger prints on the windows. The front door sticks when you close it and the side door creaks in the worst way. We desperately need a plummer to check out our bathroom sink, since the hot tap water doesn't work and the drain is constantly clogged. Shall I go on?
On the flip-side? We have a home. And it's a nice home. On cold days we are warmed by heat and on hot days we are cooled by air conditioner. Our kids have their own spaces with their own toys. Nice toys. We have Internet and a laptop. We have cell phones, DVR, and a big screen TV. We have two dogs that live like royalty. One dog has stomach issues and we are able to provide him with a special dog food that is pricey. He was a rescue, and it would be easier to give him back, but instead we do what he needs to be comfortable. We never go to bed hungry and we have two reliable vehicles. We have supportive families that would walk to the ends of the earth for us. We have reliable jobs and health insurance. We have love. A LOT of love. Our kids have a great education and are involved in extra curriculars of their choosing. We have a church we call home and the knowledge that God will provide.
All my life I wanted more, more, more. Looking at Evan, I appreciate the things I can give him. I love seeing him snuggled in bed, warm and comfortable. I love giving him a bottle, knowing his belly is full. I love seeing his smile, knowing he is happy. He is ALWAYS happy. I can take these feelings and say, "I love this so much, I want to do it with another child!" ...or I can take these feelings as, "I am finally at peace." I have all I want, I have all I need. There will always be bigger and better, but it's not a requirement to live.
With God's grace, I will learn to simplify and appreciate. Because I have so, so much to be appreciative of.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Dear Allison,
Tomorrow you turn 4. FOUR! I can't believe four years has gone by. I remember the exact morning the digital pregnancy test said "pregnant". It was Christmas morning, 2008. I cried, and whispered to myself, "I know it's a girl."
When you were born, you were so amazingly perfect. The first thing I said was, "Look at those cheeks!" You were my biggest baby out of your siblings: 8 pounds, 3 ounces, and you were born 5 days before your due date. You were so gorgeous, I couldn't get over how PRETTY you were!
You were a good baby, but you loved to be held all the time. While your older brother, Ethan, could entertain himself for hours, you just wanted to be with someone all the time. You loved to nap on me. I'd sit you on my lap, facing out, and gently rub your belly as you'd sleep. You loved that.
Now those baby days are long gone, and you have grown into a sweet, vibrant, amazing little girl. I know how badly you would love to have sister, but I selfishly love that you are my only girl. My only princess.
You challenge me, in good ways and bad. You have so much fire inside of you. You are passionate about life and you aren't afraid to show it. You are so smart, clever, and full of silliness. You make me laugh all the time. You are independent and you like to do things your own way, yet at the same time, you are so attached to your daddy and I, and you don't like to be apart from us long. You have been crawling into our bed now for well over a year and as much as daddy complains, I think we have ALL grown to like the extra cuddle time with you. I love when you sleep with me, you sleep so close to me, we share a pillow. I call you my little sleep ninja, because you are so active in your sleep, but I love having you so close to me.
While I hate how fast time has passed, you make me so excited to see what life will offer you. Scratch that. I am so excited to see what you offer life. I know with your strong personality, you are going to go so far in life, and I am so proud of that.
Happy birthday, little petunia. I love you so deeply.
Love,
Momma
Tomorrow you turn 4. FOUR! I can't believe four years has gone by. I remember the exact morning the digital pregnancy test said "pregnant". It was Christmas morning, 2008. I cried, and whispered to myself, "I know it's a girl."
When you were born, you were so amazingly perfect. The first thing I said was, "Look at those cheeks!" You were my biggest baby out of your siblings: 8 pounds, 3 ounces, and you were born 5 days before your due date. You were so gorgeous, I couldn't get over how PRETTY you were!
You were a good baby, but you loved to be held all the time. While your older brother, Ethan, could entertain himself for hours, you just wanted to be with someone all the time. You loved to nap on me. I'd sit you on my lap, facing out, and gently rub your belly as you'd sleep. You loved that.
Now those baby days are long gone, and you have grown into a sweet, vibrant, amazing little girl. I know how badly you would love to have sister, but I selfishly love that you are my only girl. My only princess.
You challenge me, in good ways and bad. You have so much fire inside of you. You are passionate about life and you aren't afraid to show it. You are so smart, clever, and full of silliness. You make me laugh all the time. You are independent and you like to do things your own way, yet at the same time, you are so attached to your daddy and I, and you don't like to be apart from us long. You have been crawling into our bed now for well over a year and as much as daddy complains, I think we have ALL grown to like the extra cuddle time with you. I love when you sleep with me, you sleep so close to me, we share a pillow. I call you my little sleep ninja, because you are so active in your sleep, but I love having you so close to me.
While I hate how fast time has passed, you make me so excited to see what life will offer you. Scratch that. I am so excited to see what you offer life. I know with your strong personality, you are going to go so far in life, and I am so proud of that.
Happy birthday, little petunia. I love you so deeply.
Love,
Momma
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
I consider myself a bandwagon Christian. By this, I mean on Sunday I am all, "Wooo! Jesus! I love you, Lord! Praise God!" Then Monday-Saturday I get on with my life that is being a mom, wife, and nurse. No Bible reading, hardly any prayer, everything is on the back burner. I'm busy, ya'll! I don't have time to add more to my already busy schedule.
Several weeks ago, though, my Pastor did a sermon about how do you know when God is speaking to you. One of the things he said that really struck me is how often I open God's word to hear his message. Well, I don't. My Bible is neatly tucked away on my bookshelf, in a nice protective Bible carrying case. I don't know WHY it's in a case, because it certainly isn't going to get harmed if I never move it off the shelf. But the case sure looks nice! God speaks to us through the Bible and I never allow his message to get to me because I never READ it. How simple is that?
The other thing I learned is that when we have a feeling, or something nagging at our hearts and our minds to do something, we need to do it, as it might be God telling us to do it. I am EXCELLENT and shush-ing God, though. I can put his directions for my life right out of my head and never think twice about it.
Coincidentally (or maybe not?) I have had two instances where I think God is realizing I am not getting it. I am not listening but choice. The first was when we had a very sad death on my floor at work. A lot of people were pretty upset so the hospital chaplain came to speak to us. Not knowing anyone's religious affiliations, she didn't preach to us, but simply reminded us of how much of an impact we have on our patient's lives and if we ever need someone to talk to, they are there for us 24/7. Then she passed around a little bag and explained that the cards in the bag were all different, and we were to reach into it and pull out a card and that was our message for the day. I was the first to reach in and could feel a whole stack of cards. I jumbled them around and when I pulled one out, it said "Silence" on one side. The other side read, "I give you the gift of SILENCE so that you may hear My voice inside yourself." I'll be honest, I was disappointed. I wanted something more uplifting. Silence? Do I talk to much or something? I tucked amongst my pocket full of stuff and went on with my day.
Just this past weekend, I had an in depth conversation with another Christian and co-worker, and she talked about how much peace she achieves by stopping and meditating. Really LISTENING to what God wants her to know. She kept telling me, over and over, how important this was. This was when I finally noticed the trend. Stop. Listen. There are messages for me, I just need to receive them.
Two times throughout all of this, I had these moments where I had a strong urge to do something for someone, totally out of the blue. I tried to push the idea out of my head, but the desire to follow through was so insanely strong, I had to do it. One instance occurred at Meijer. I had to explain to the cashier, "I can't explain why, but I need you to ring my order up REALLY FAST. I know this sounds strange, but please hurry." This was so out of character to me, but what I was about to do was so strong, I absolutely HAD to do it. On my drive home, I called my mom to tell her about it, but left out any mention of it being a "God moment" because I don't know how people feel about stuff like that and I don't like to be preachy to people without knowing if they want to hear it. Want to hear something even better? My mom, after hearing my story, said, "I have a God moment story for you, too!" ...so she heard my story, realized it was God speaking, and followed up with her own moment. Never once did I mention I felt it was God telling me to do something.
I hear you, God. And I will try harder to listen. REALLY listen.
Several weeks ago, though, my Pastor did a sermon about how do you know when God is speaking to you. One of the things he said that really struck me is how often I open God's word to hear his message. Well, I don't. My Bible is neatly tucked away on my bookshelf, in a nice protective Bible carrying case. I don't know WHY it's in a case, because it certainly isn't going to get harmed if I never move it off the shelf. But the case sure looks nice! God speaks to us through the Bible and I never allow his message to get to me because I never READ it. How simple is that?
The other thing I learned is that when we have a feeling, or something nagging at our hearts and our minds to do something, we need to do it, as it might be God telling us to do it. I am EXCELLENT and shush-ing God, though. I can put his directions for my life right out of my head and never think twice about it.
Coincidentally (or maybe not?) I have had two instances where I think God is realizing I am not getting it. I am not listening but choice. The first was when we had a very sad death on my floor at work. A lot of people were pretty upset so the hospital chaplain came to speak to us. Not knowing anyone's religious affiliations, she didn't preach to us, but simply reminded us of how much of an impact we have on our patient's lives and if we ever need someone to talk to, they are there for us 24/7. Then she passed around a little bag and explained that the cards in the bag were all different, and we were to reach into it and pull out a card and that was our message for the day. I was the first to reach in and could feel a whole stack of cards. I jumbled them around and when I pulled one out, it said "Silence" on one side. The other side read, "I give you the gift of SILENCE so that you may hear My voice inside yourself." I'll be honest, I was disappointed. I wanted something more uplifting. Silence? Do I talk to much or something? I tucked amongst my pocket full of stuff and went on with my day.
Just this past weekend, I had an in depth conversation with another Christian and co-worker, and she talked about how much peace she achieves by stopping and meditating. Really LISTENING to what God wants her to know. She kept telling me, over and over, how important this was. This was when I finally noticed the trend. Stop. Listen. There are messages for me, I just need to receive them.
Two times throughout all of this, I had these moments where I had a strong urge to do something for someone, totally out of the blue. I tried to push the idea out of my head, but the desire to follow through was so insanely strong, I had to do it. One instance occurred at Meijer. I had to explain to the cashier, "I can't explain why, but I need you to ring my order up REALLY FAST. I know this sounds strange, but please hurry." This was so out of character to me, but what I was about to do was so strong, I absolutely HAD to do it. On my drive home, I called my mom to tell her about it, but left out any mention of it being a "God moment" because I don't know how people feel about stuff like that and I don't like to be preachy to people without knowing if they want to hear it. Want to hear something even better? My mom, after hearing my story, said, "I have a God moment story for you, too!" ...so she heard my story, realized it was God speaking, and followed up with her own moment. Never once did I mention I felt it was God telling me to do something.
I hear you, God. And I will try harder to listen. REALLY listen.
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