Oct 13

I’m still here, I promise!

It has been a wild month, guys, and I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I landed my dream job and along with that came adjusting to wearing heels every day, commuting, getting dressed every day, and putting in long days. I did find the Mecca of workplaces, though. They work as a team, and truly value their employees. No calls after work or on weekends. No mandatory late evenings throwing parties, or working on days off. Taking lunch or leaving at the end of the day isn’t seen as a sign of weakness. You work hard when you’re there, and when you aren’t there, you aren’t working. It’s a novel idea!

Along with accepting the job, though, has been a acclimating the kids back to a working mom schedule. And Hubbin has been phenomenal. He’s always been a good husband, but he has taken care of the children, getting them up and feeding them and off to their prospective places, even though I leave after him, so I can plot my best route to take. He picks them up in the evening and feeds them before I even get home. One day that I’d had a bad day, I came home to my favorite Japanese takeout order sitting in the counter. Other times, it’s been home cooked meals. And some days I ate and fell into bed, and he did all the work. One day, the house was immaculate when I got home. It had always been straightened up when I got home, but this time it was immaculate. I think I cried. He is the best man I have ever known, and I loves the way he loves me. He even agreed to let me buy an iPhone 5 out of contract.

So much has gone on; we are in MarriageWorks again because we liked it so much the first time, and it’s even better this time. I love learning how to love him the best way for him.

So life is good. I’m still here, just tired and have been lazy about posting. I’ll work on that, I promise. Thanks for sticking with me.

Sep 09

My Ashley

I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but had to wait until we were all emotionally stable enough to post it. 😉

I was thirteen when my sister told us she was pregnant. I loved my big sister so much, and I watched her struggle through a pregnancy that was both physically difficult and emotionally impossible. My already strong sister transformed into from a scared teenage girl into an even stronger woman, right before my eyes.

I remember feeling that baby kick and being in awe of the miracle growing inside of her. Morning sickness was an understatement; she had hyperemesis so severely that she was frequently hospitalized for dehydration. And then it was time. Without a drop of pain reliever, I watched her deliver my niece. She was this beautiful child, and I knew at that moment, life as we knew it was forever changed.

20130909-172816.jpgAshley was a beautiful, easy child. She was friendly and easy going, and I watched her that first summer while my sister worked. We played dress up while I took pictures and I loved snuggling her.

I had never before experienced a love quite like I did with Ashley. She made our family of four complete, and she changed each of us in ways we could have never anticipated.

In a sense, my sister and Ashley raised each other. Ashley brought out the best in my sister, and my Sissy seamlessly transformed from scared teen to doting mother. There were other struggles, but if she ever struggled with the role of Ashley’s mom, it went unnoticed. Ever strong and determined, she started as a teller of a bank and worked her way up. When Ashley was 5, she had a bit of travel, and I happily took this charming little girl for overnights during some of those times. I took her to “grown-up” dinners and we watched movies and giggled.

I blinked and she was in school. Ever the studious student, I don’t think she’s ever had anything less than honor roll (and perfect attendance for several years). It was obvious that she inherited my sister’s intelligence and focus on the importance of education.

Soon she was cheering, and it was obvious that, like my sister, she gave her all to everything she set her mind to. An anomaly, she never did turn into the typical moody teenage girl that you can’t wait to move out.

Then someone blinked, and she was in high school. And with another blink, I found myself desperate to hide my tears at the sight of her in her graduation garb, with the ropes dangling, showing her hard work had paid off. She graduated high school with honors, a 4.0 GPA, and acceptance to her top pick school, James Madison University, enrolling in their biology program to eventually move on to orthodontics.

And just like that, this chapter closes. However much the closing of this part hurts, it’s the way of life. That certainly doesn’t make it easier; perhaps it would be if she would have been a difficult, rebellious teen, though that couldn’t be further from the truth. Sisters feel each others pain, and I ache for my big Sissy. I wish I knew the words to say to make it easier, but I don’t. I can’t, really. I know how difficult it was to say goodbye to her as an aunt; I can’t fathom it as a mother. I won’t pretend to be able to sympathize, just like how the words to console a grieving friend who has lost a parent, or a pregnancy, can never quite bring about the comfort you intend and wish so badly to convey.

The day she was born, I knew she was different, because my sister was different. Sissy defied all odds against her, rising from a bank teller to an Investment Consultant in record time. Incredibly successful, she modeled for Ashley so many things, and in turn, Ashley turned into a successful, beautiful person; one with big dreams and the drive to achieve them.

As she steps into this new phase of life, so does my sister. And while scary, she gets to continue to see how all that hard work, all the sacrifices she made, pay off by watching her baby, the one that made her a mother, the reason for her strength during times it seemed impossible, her best friend, blossom into the kind of woman she is – strong, determined, and successful.

The parenting work isn’t over, it’s just in a new phase. Change always seems scary, but it’s necessary for our continued growth.

Ashley, though my writing can be eloquent at times, words escape me at the moment. I have loved you since the moment I felt you kick my hand, and I will love you unconditionally until the day I die. I am incredibly proud of the woman you have become. You will do wonderful things in this world, because you already have.

And Sissy, wipe those tears and rejoice in the pride that she has become who you raised her to be; who you’ve always wanted her to be. Your parenting isn’t over for her; it never will be. It’s just a new phase, and one that I know you will transform into successfully, as you have everything else.

20130909-171723.jpg

Aug 31

My Rachel

Me and Rachel

Me and Rachel

I’m still around, just haven’t been in a writing mode I guess. It’s funny, because once you actually announce change, you get hit from all angles with just…tests. And tested I have been. This week has been hard from many angles, but nothing I have experienced can come close to the biggest part of this week.

My dear friend had a very serious medical procedure for a horrific disease called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy. It’s an incurable, excruciatingly painful disease.

It’s in her shoulder and arm (and her dominant one at that), and to add to it, she also has a torn rotator cuff, which cannot be repaired because of the damage from the RSD. And she’s working through all of this, too (and I don’t mean mentally, though that too, I mean she goes to work everyday). And I know she must get comments that are well-meaning but frustrating. It’s not like any other chronic pain disease; not by a long-shot. On the McGill Pain Index, pain is scaled. A bone fracture is a 17, non-terminal cancer is a 26. Chronic back pain is a 30. Unmedicated childbirth is a 37. The pain from RSD, which is constant and without end in sight, is a 42. The wind from a rolled-down window causes excruciating pain; so does her own clothes.

I’ve watched her and been in awe. Her faith is incredible; it’s amazing to watch and indescribably beautiful. At only 29 years old, she’s been through more than anyone I know. She’s experienced RSD before, a few years ago, in her leg, and had to learn how to walk again. This time it’s different, though. It’s her dominant arm, and she has a small child who prays that the surgery works so Mommy can hold her again.

There are times she has been sad – that she can’t make dinner for her daughter, or wash her own hair; times of frustration, when nurses say inconsiderate things, and times where she is tired of battling this every minute of every day. But never once, not a single time, I have ever seen her angry at God.

Still, she has faith.

Through pain we cannot begin to fathom, she has faith. She knows that God will use this for something. She doesn’t know what, but I’ve never heard her voice the question the rest of us think…”what is the ‘so that’ here?”

rsdThis surgery was painful, has an extremely lengthy and difficult recovery (in fact, the stimulator they implanted in her spine won’t even be turned ON for another two weeks, so for now there is no RSD relief and now there are two incisions and spinal work that cause pain), and has no guarantees that it will work. And if it does work, it doesn’t make it all better; it merely improves her quality of life. It was, however, the last resort. She doesn’t focus on that, though. Wednesday, I stayed overnight with her in her hospital room post-op and I read her the bible verses that friends and coworkers had painstakingly prepared. And as my voice cracked, trying desperately to force out a verse from 1 Peter, we cried together when I kissed her forehead and said “This is what we prayed for. He is faithful. Your surgery was a success. He answered our prayers. He is faithful.” And in the midst of excruciating pain, nurses that had her send home medication that the pharmacy ended up not having, doctor’s orders that had neglected to be put into the system, and poor post-operative care, she continued to praise God.

Today, I brought her Seasons 2-6 of 24 (Jack Bauer makes everything better, amiright?) and laid in bed with her and chatted. Instead of talking about her pain, she asked me how I was.

How I am? Hardly relevant. But she wanted to know, because that’s who she is.

Wonderful. Passionate. Christ-like. A servant. An example to the rest of us to look up instead of down, and out instead of in.

She says she’s blessed to have us, and that’s so backwards. It is us who are blessed, so blessed, to have someone in our lives that radiates faith and love.

I love you, Rachel, and I know, like you do, that He has a plan for you in this.

Aug 19

Reglued

I finally finished the bible study for the book Unglued by Lysa TerKeurst (again, I’m not important enough to get paid to say things like that). To say that I changed during this study would be an understatement of huge proportions. I’m not sure when God changed me through it; there were a few aha moments during the study, but there isn’t a definitive moment where I can say “that changed me”.

And really, that’s how it works. Though, as a society, I believe we want stories with a clear moment where we awoke from our slumber. They are more interesting; more hopeful, perhaps. I’ve come to realize that lasting change doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a process; sometimes it’s slower than we want, but it’s a process nonetheless. I remembered thinking, as I was surrounded by these women, my friends, that I honestly couldn’t figure out why they were doing the study. They were so…together, while here I sat thinking “I hope they never know how much more I need this study than they do!” I’m a yeller of epic proportions; I always have been. I couldn’t even remember a time where I handled something stressful in an appropriate manner.

Then I had this day, and I woke up anew. I cannot recall what prompted it, though I’ve tried. And after that day, each day got even better. I responded to the kids differently. When The Little One would whine, I redirected her. I laughed. I tickled her. I stopped saying “no” to things that didn’t really require a “no”.

And it worked, especially stopping the automatic ‘no’s. Saying yes more prevented me from a situation where I said no to something trivial and then backed down out of sheer exhaustion. This not only prevented tantrums, but it allowed me to be more consistent. There were fewer standoffs between us, replaced by more silly fun.

It should be common sense that yelling back at a toddler gets you nothing but an escalating temper tantrum, but it wasn’t. I couldn’t see my role in the chaos in the house, even though in retrospect, my reactions to The Little One were probably 80% of the issue. I’ve said quite often that I don’t feel like I’m not good enough, because I’m just me. If I’m doing my best, that’s all I can do. I don’t have the same strengths as other people do, I have my own. I cling to this and it keeps me sane.

[pullquote]It never once occurred to me to think the same way in regards to the kids.[/pullquote]

It’s no secret that The Oldest One was an easygoing, lovely, friendly and polite child; she still is. The Little One isn’t; she never was, and I don’t anticipate a major personality change anytime soon. She’s more difficult and has been since my second trimester when my pregnancy deteriorated to a life-threatening state. So, knowing this, why do I consistently put her in situations that are too much for her and then get frustrated when she doesn’t behave the way The Oldest One did? The Little One has her own strengths; she’s incredibly strong-willed and advanced in a hands-on way. Her problem-solving is incredible for her age. Patience is not her strong suit; it may never be. And really, it’s not her job to acclimate to what I can handle. It’s MY job, as her mother, to customize my parenting style to HER needs.

I slowly realized this. And even before I did, I felt myself saying it in bible study. It’s funny when God speaks through you; when what you are saying makes so much sense you know it couldn’t possibly have come from you. This happens to me frequently.

They say the best way to change someone is to change yourself first, and that’s what I inadvertently did. By changing my reactions, the meltdowns became fewer and further between. And when they did happen, I could deescalate them much more quickly. My husband frequently commented on how impressed he was, which gave me more drive to keep it up.

There are still times where I want to scream into my handbag, like the woman on the cover of the Unglued book. I’m sure there will be in the future; and really, even THAT is progress, because I’m no longer yelling at the kids, or my husband, or the door frame that jumped out and stubbed my innocent toe.

And it’s not just our home life that has improved; The Little One’s daycare director mentioned today that they’ve seen remarkable growth in her behavior over the last two months.

Will there still be meltdowns? Absolutely. She’s a strong willed two year old, after all. Now, though, I am more conscientious of the triggers. Is she past her nap time? Am I?

The biggest thing I learned was that even if someone looks like they have it all together doesn’t mean they aren’t mentally screaming into their purse. To think that those around us are better at it all than we are is brutally unfair to us and them. Strangely, being surrounded by women that all struck me as perfect mothers was reassuring to me. I wasn’t too far gone to make changes, and it wasn’t the impossible feat it appeared to be. It’s a daily, imperfect progress.

And that? Y’all, that is an attainable goal.

Aug 08

The Wisdom of Erma Bombeck

I loved Erma Bombeck. Even as a child, I would read her books and I totally identified with her sarcastic parenting. To be honest, thinking now, I wouldn’t be surprised if it shaped my parenting, and even my writing.

I read everything on the Internet tonight in a feeble attempt to avoid doing my bible study work (some days it’s just harder than others, ok?). After reading everything else, I went to Snopes.com in search of nothing but dull reading that didn’t require the hard look inside that Lisa TerKeurst’s writing does. Yes, y’all, Snopes. I was trying that hard to avoid reading anything emotional.

And on the Randomizer, this popped up:

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER – by Erma Bombeck
(written after she found out she was dying from cancer).

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, ‘Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.’ There would have been more ‘I love you’s’. More ‘I’m sorry’s.’

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute, look at it and really see it .. live it and never give it back. STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!

Don’t worry about who doesn’t like you, who has more, or who’s doing what. Instead, let’s cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.

I knew I loved her for her sarcasm, but now I love her for her clarity when faced with her mortality. You may hear me say from time to time “When does the whole ‘growing up fast’ thing start?!” Sometimes I’m even joking when I say it. Not often.

Time to stop and snuggle, and smell the real life that takes place under all that masking of Scentsy.

Jul 31

Men Working

Look, y’all, it’s so unusual ’round these parts that they have to put up signs to let you know.
20130731-110600.jpg(It’s not unusual for MY husband, but I found it so funny that I couldn’t resist)