I've been thinking a lot about Amelia the last few days. I still miss her. I still wonder what life would be like right now, with a two-month-old and my little Monkey, not to mention the other four. I imagine she would have her daddy's brown eyes, and my smile. I think she probably would have the same cute little curls her big brother has. I still ache a little bit with her loss, but I also recognize that God has her with Him, and I will get to meet her some day.
The other day, a lovely woman from church that I hadn't seen in a while asked me how "that baby" was doing. I assumed she was talking about Monkey. I told her that he is now 19 months, and not a baby anymore. I told her it was happening too fast for me, and that I wished it would slow down. She frowned, and then shook her head. She wanted to know about the baby. It took my breath away. I had to explain to her that we had lost the baby in June, over 6 months ago. She apologized, and looked appropriately stricken. I feel for her. I didn't cry, but I was stunned about the sharp pain I felt. I thought I was over the pain of it.
I struggled a lot with feeling guilty about mourning. We are clearly blessed with many children. They are, so far, very healthy. I have many good friends and/or family members that have struggled with infertility for years. I have always been able to sympathize, but you can never fully understand what they're feeling if you haven't dealt with it yourself. How can I feel sad about my loss, when I have these beautiful children at home to be grateful for? Aren't I telling my children that they're not sufficient for me? Most importantly, aren't I telling God that He's not sufficient for me? That's dangerous territory, isn't it? I felt guilty about grieving, which in turn, made the grieving process even longer. A very wise woman whom I have a great deal of respect for, and who also happens to have struggled with infertility for many years said something to me that I am still grateful for. She basically told me that I'm allowed to feel whatever I feel. I know that seems simplistic, and there was more to the conversation than that... but it helped me. That was the turning point for me. I was able to talk about things a little more freely, and I let myself be ok with being sad. I continued to be in prayer, and have been doing much better.
In the past 2 months, two more families I know have suffered miscarriages. The most recent one I just found out about this afternoon. Hearing that news.... it makes my heart heavy. It makes my eyes tear up, and I kind of want to curl up in a ball.
We have been trying to get pregnant again, so far, without success. The first few months, it was devastating every time to learn we weren't pregnant. After much prayer, a really great Bible study, and some bruising along the way, I have come to terms. We may not have any more kids, and that is ok. God has blessed us beyond measure. I'm not sure what His plans for us are right now, at least not in that department. His plans may not include any babies. His plan may be for me to be a really great mom to the the kids we have already been blessed with. I'm flexible. I'm ready to roll. I'm ready to listen to His still, small voice.
Pr. 19:21 Many are the plans in a man's heart, but the counsel of the Lord will be established.
Rom. 8:28 And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.
Phil. 1:6 For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Aggressively Affectionate
Little Monkey is the most affectionate of all my chitlins. This isn't surprising really, since I was never overly affectionate until my husband came into my life. Don't get me wrong, I've always hugged and loved on my kids... but I don't dig on the clingy hugs, especially once they get a little older. Plus, the older ones certainly never saw me loving up on anyone else. As I said, not overly affectionate. Not only was I not a hugger, I really didn't like people inside my bubble. I really preferred them to stay outside of arms length.... and I have long arms. Where do you think Monkey gets it from?
Things have changed, to an extent. I still don't like strangers inside my bubble. I still get a little anxious in elevators when they become full. (Primarily because for some reason, I perpetually get trapped with ONE other person in the elevator who can't bear to stay on the opposite side. What is with that??) I still prefer people to have a buffer stall in a public restroom, and truly can not comprehend what the person is thinking when with 30 available stalls, they come sit by me. I have become, though, that person I used to hate. You know who I'm talking about: the one that holds her husband's hand every stinking time they're walking near each other? The one who you you want to start an impromptu game of Red Rover with, just to see their reaction? Oh no, don't separate yourself because you're walking towards me in a narrow walkway... I'll walk around. That one. The one who will, without warning or preamble, lean over and kiss her husband in public because he told her she looks pretty. (For clarification... I am NOT the one that tongues her husband in the restaurant while others are trying to eat. Keep it clean, people... keep it clean).
My point is, it's not surprising that Monkey is more affectionate than his older siblings. He sees a lot of love in this house, and for that I'm grateful. His favorite thing in the world is a group hug. If Daddy comes home from a trip and is giving Mommy hugs and kisses... he's gonna need to be in on that action, whether you want him to be or not. He now gives kisses that seem to be never-ending. If you try to pull away, he will squeeze your face and continue with his Muuuwwaaah noise until he's done. You're on his time schedule, baby... so get used to it. It's pretty cute, truth be told. So cute, that I didn't think of any issues this might cause.
My friend brought her daughter over the other day... a little play-date so we could catch up. Her daughter is older than Monkey by a few months, and luckily has 2 older brothers... so she is used to a little roughness. Thank goodness... because Monkey loooooovvvved her. He wanted to hug her, and squeeze her and love her... you get the idea. Monkey is big for his age, though... and he likes to hug around the neck. It looked like he was putting her in a headlock, especially since she wasn't really as appreciative of his hugs as he thought she should be.
Last night, we had a game night with the besties... and between the 2 of them, they have 2 beautiful little girls, both of whom are teeny tots, especially in comparison to Monkey. And he loooovvvvvvvvvved them too. I'm glad they both can hold their own, because I know he took one of them down to the ground at least twice. He doesn't just want a little squeeze... he apparently wants to squoosh you until all the air has escaped your body and you fall to the ground wheezing. Then he wants to squeeze you a little more, and maybe kiss you some while he's at it.
Gentle. That's the word of the week at our house. I've been signing it to him and repeating it over and over since the visit from my friend. Maybe he'll get the hint. We can only hope...
Friday, January 21, 2011
Pause Button
Do you ever have things happen in your life that you just find difficult to take in? Wouldn't it be nice to have a pause button for life, so you could absorb everything you wanted? Maybe just so you could take a mental picture so you don't miss anything? The world just spins so fast!
Being a mom of 5 has it's challenges, and certainly has it's rewards. While I realize that probably the only people reading this know us, I like to pretend that at some point, people I don't actually know will be interested in reading my ramblings. In that vein, here's a little background.
We are a blended family... a yours, mine, and ours mix. I won't be using their real names on here, just because... but here's the breakdown:
Mine
18 year old girl - Since she's no longer a minor, and since she's a little bossy, I think we'll call her "The Major".
12 year old boy - Hmmmm... what to call him? I could go for Tween, but come July, that will be over, so what's the point of changing his name 6 months in? He's a talker, and I frequently reference him as Chatty McTalksalot at home... so maybe we'll keep that moniker. I may shorten it, and just go for McTalksalot... we'll just have to take it as it comes.
His
14, almost 15 year old boy - This one is 6'2" and plays football. His freshman team went undefeated this year. Ego, ego, ego. Funny, funny, funny. He's actually the Hub's stepson from his first marriage. We're going to call him Kutcher... because well, he looks like a younger Ashton Kutcher, and has his sense of humor.
8 year old boy - Taz. Right before our wedding, one of the groomsman called him the Tasmanian Devil. It fits. He is sweet and calm one second, and crazy destructive the next. Very spirited, but very sweet.
Ours
19 month old boy - Monkey. Because he is one. He climbed out of his crib for the first time at 16 months. He has really long little monkey arms that he used to reach every thing on a counter that he's not supposed to be able to reach. He's way tall for his age, and climbs on EVERYthing. He's busy 100% of the time.
Major, McTalksalot, and Monkey are with us full-time. Taz is with us every other weekend, and as often as we can have him during the summer. One of these days, we hope he'll decide to stay with us full-time. In the interim, we will take him whenever we can get him. Kutcher isn't here nearly as often as we'd like. His biological dad is in TX, so he spends some holiday time there. His social life is extensive, so when he can fit us in to his busy schedule, he does.
Ok... there's the background, but here's what I was thinking about before my ADD took over and I got sidetracked with the descriptions.
Monkey's crib got turned into a toddler bed yesterday. Last night at bedtime, he crawled in all by himself and covered up with his little blanket. It was perhaps one of the sweetest little things I've ever seen. He's trying to talk (FINALLY) and apparently has chosen 'shoes' as his favorite word. He's growing up way too fast. How do I make it stop???
We played in the snow yesterday. He was too little last year to really enjoy or pay attention to it. Watching him look in awe at all that white stuff that was so cold on his little hands was simply amazing. He had fun, but we weren't out very long before he was done, and wanted to go back inside. Of course, as soon as he was in, he wanted back out.
McTalksalot is in Junior High. Let me repeat.... JUNIOR HIGH. As I was looking through an old blog I used to keep, I came across a letter he had written to the Tooth Fairy. He was letting her have his tooth, and hoped she liked it, but wanted assurances that she knew just how much that tooth had meant to him. He goes to the orthodontist for braces next month. I'm missing the Tooth Fairy a little bit.
Major just recently became a major. She's been 18 for less than a month. How did I get old enough to be the mother of an 18 year old, that's what I want to know!!
When my DH and I first started dating, Kutcher was 11, and no where near 6 feet tall. Our first encounter was at Worlds of Fun, a local amusement park. He talked about how he wasn't scared of a single ride there. That was right up until I wanted to ride the Thunderhawk. He looked like he was going to pass out, and I told him he could hold my hand if he wanted. He did. On the way out of the park that day, I heard him tell Dad that I was really scared on the Thunderhawk and made him hold my hand. He "didn't see what the fuss was about, it was just a ride!"
Taz actually proposed to me before his father did. He was four at the time, but he referred to me as his girlfriend, not his dad's. If he would see his dad kiss me, he would have a fit, and tell Dad that he was not allowed to kiss his girlfriend... only hugs. Fast forward 4 years, and he barely tolerates hugs and kisses from me now. He has his own girlfriends to worry about... in the second grade. SECOND GRADE.
Time goes too fast. I'm getting too old. So whenever you come up with that pause button... you let me know.
Being a mom of 5 has it's challenges, and certainly has it's rewards. While I realize that probably the only people reading this know us, I like to pretend that at some point, people I don't actually know will be interested in reading my ramblings. In that vein, here's a little background.
We are a blended family... a yours, mine, and ours mix. I won't be using their real names on here, just because... but here's the breakdown:
Mine
18 year old girl - Since she's no longer a minor, and since she's a little bossy, I think we'll call her "The Major".
12 year old boy - Hmmmm... what to call him? I could go for Tween, but come July, that will be over, so what's the point of changing his name 6 months in? He's a talker, and I frequently reference him as Chatty McTalksalot at home... so maybe we'll keep that moniker. I may shorten it, and just go for McTalksalot... we'll just have to take it as it comes.
His
14, almost 15 year old boy - This one is 6'2" and plays football. His freshman team went undefeated this year. Ego, ego, ego. Funny, funny, funny. He's actually the Hub's stepson from his first marriage. We're going to call him Kutcher... because well, he looks like a younger Ashton Kutcher, and has his sense of humor.
8 year old boy - Taz. Right before our wedding, one of the groomsman called him the Tasmanian Devil. It fits. He is sweet and calm one second, and crazy destructive the next. Very spirited, but very sweet.
Ours
19 month old boy - Monkey. Because he is one. He climbed out of his crib for the first time at 16 months. He has really long little monkey arms that he used to reach every thing on a counter that he's not supposed to be able to reach. He's way tall for his age, and climbs on EVERYthing. He's busy 100% of the time.
Major, McTalksalot, and Monkey are with us full-time. Taz is with us every other weekend, and as often as we can have him during the summer. One of these days, we hope he'll decide to stay with us full-time. In the interim, we will take him whenever we can get him. Kutcher isn't here nearly as often as we'd like. His biological dad is in TX, so he spends some holiday time there. His social life is extensive, so when he can fit us in to his busy schedule, he does.
Ok... there's the background, but here's what I was thinking about before my ADD took over and I got sidetracked with the descriptions.
Monkey's crib got turned into a toddler bed yesterday. Last night at bedtime, he crawled in all by himself and covered up with his little blanket. It was perhaps one of the sweetest little things I've ever seen. He's trying to talk (FINALLY) and apparently has chosen 'shoes' as his favorite word. He's growing up way too fast. How do I make it stop???
We played in the snow yesterday. He was too little last year to really enjoy or pay attention to it. Watching him look in awe at all that white stuff that was so cold on his little hands was simply amazing. He had fun, but we weren't out very long before he was done, and wanted to go back inside. Of course, as soon as he was in, he wanted back out.
McTalksalot is in Junior High. Let me repeat.... JUNIOR HIGH. As I was looking through an old blog I used to keep, I came across a letter he had written to the Tooth Fairy. He was letting her have his tooth, and hoped she liked it, but wanted assurances that she knew just how much that tooth had meant to him. He goes to the orthodontist for braces next month. I'm missing the Tooth Fairy a little bit.
Major just recently became a major. She's been 18 for less than a month. How did I get old enough to be the mother of an 18 year old, that's what I want to know!!
When my DH and I first started dating, Kutcher was 11, and no where near 6 feet tall. Our first encounter was at Worlds of Fun, a local amusement park. He talked about how he wasn't scared of a single ride there. That was right up until I wanted to ride the Thunderhawk. He looked like he was going to pass out, and I told him he could hold my hand if he wanted. He did. On the way out of the park that day, I heard him tell Dad that I was really scared on the Thunderhawk and made him hold my hand. He "didn't see what the fuss was about, it was just a ride!"
Taz actually proposed to me before his father did. He was four at the time, but he referred to me as his girlfriend, not his dad's. If he would see his dad kiss me, he would have a fit, and tell Dad that he was not allowed to kiss his girlfriend... only hugs. Fast forward 4 years, and he barely tolerates hugs and kisses from me now. He has his own girlfriends to worry about... in the second grade. SECOND GRADE.
Time goes too fast. I'm getting too old. So whenever you come up with that pause button... you let me know.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Delightful? Really?
I spent a lot of time this morning re-directing the toddler.
"No, we do not keep opening the freezer."
"No, let's not take the chicken nuggets we pilfered from the freezer and hide them on the floor of the pantry."
"We do not play with the toilet brush."
"Please don't crawl on top of the table."
"Please stop poking me in the eye. I love the fact that you know the word 'eye,' but don't feel you need to shove your thumb in mine while saying the word."
"Please get that out of your mouth!"
Currently, I'm watching him play peek-a-boo with Sissy by covering his entire little body up with a blanket. He's always so excited to reveal himself. Hearing him squeal and giggle mostly makes up for the frustration of the morning.
I'm humbly reminded that God must look at me in a very similar light. How often does He have to remind me gently (and sometimes not so gently) that I'm being disobedient? How many times does He shake his head and think, "You've got to be kidding me?! Again, with this?"
"No, let's not use that kind of language."
"Hey Stubborn, how about you check with Me first, before you make these rash decisions?"
"Don't roll your eyes at Me; you knew better than that."
"Hey, guess what? You can't fix that... it's My job."
What a relief that He has more patience than I! What a blessing that He has such grace! I wonder how many times He has seen me kicking and screaming because I didn't get my way? Probably more than I would want to acknowledge.
The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.
(Zephaniah 3:17). *emphasis mine*
He delights in us! Isn't that a miracle of gigantic proportions? After all our failures, all of our attempts to "handle things", our inadequacies, our doubt... He can still forgive us, love us, and "take great delight" in us. How blessed we are! Our Father loves us, disciplines us... and still delights in us.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Back In The Game
I used to do a blog years ago on Xanga. It actually started as a response to someone's political tirade that I disagreed with. I wanted to comment on their post, and in order to do that, I had to have my own page. That turned into me writing my own posts, and then all of the drama that was my life at that time bled into it. Boy, did I have drama.
I was somewhere around the 30 mark. 30 traumatized me. I was newly divorced, therefore a newly single mom. I had so much baggage, and I was convinced I was doomed to spend the rest of my life on my own, trying to keep my kids (around 4 and 9 at the time) out of the trouble that is anticipated when a home gets broken.
Saying that my first marriage was horrible is the understatement of the century. Most of what I wrote about back then concerned the antics of my ex-husband, and believe me when I tell you that I had a LOT of material.
I quit writing when I started a new job, and frankly, just didn't have the time to commit anymore. There was still plenty of drama, but not enough time to get it all on paper. (Or into Cyberspace) I've wanted to start again, but... well, my kids aren't giving me as much grief (at least not the entertaining kind that I could share) and my second and final marriage is idyllic. I guess I thought without the chaos and the unhappiness, I didn't have the reason to bang it all out, and I've lost the edge a little bit.
A couple of weeks ago (almost) my eldest child turned 18. <insert gagging noise here> I found an old post that I had written about her when she was 12, and threw it into a note on FB. I got some nice feedback, and my husband and my foster mom encouraged me to get it moving. Alright, alright.
So... this will likely be a mixture of journaling what's going on day to day, the blessings God is showing me, and probably throwing a little history in there just so I've got it all written down before it leaves my brain. That is happening a lot more often than I care to admit these days. As I'm trying to finish this up, the toddler just did a flip over my legs that were propped oh, so comfortably on the coffee table. Sigh. Clearly, my time is up.
I was somewhere around the 30 mark. 30 traumatized me. I was newly divorced, therefore a newly single mom. I had so much baggage, and I was convinced I was doomed to spend the rest of my life on my own, trying to keep my kids (around 4 and 9 at the time) out of the trouble that is anticipated when a home gets broken.
Saying that my first marriage was horrible is the understatement of the century. Most of what I wrote about back then concerned the antics of my ex-husband, and believe me when I tell you that I had a LOT of material.
I quit writing when I started a new job, and frankly, just didn't have the time to commit anymore. There was still plenty of drama, but not enough time to get it all on paper. (Or into Cyberspace) I've wanted to start again, but... well, my kids aren't giving me as much grief (at least not the entertaining kind that I could share) and my second and final marriage is idyllic. I guess I thought without the chaos and the unhappiness, I didn't have the reason to bang it all out, and I've lost the edge a little bit.
A couple of weeks ago (almost) my eldest child turned 18. <insert gagging noise here> I found an old post that I had written about her when she was 12, and threw it into a note on FB. I got some nice feedback, and my husband and my foster mom encouraged me to get it moving. Alright, alright.
So... this will likely be a mixture of journaling what's going on day to day, the blessings God is showing me, and probably throwing a little history in there just so I've got it all written down before it leaves my brain. That is happening a lot more often than I care to admit these days. As I'm trying to finish this up, the toddler just did a flip over my legs that were propped oh, so comfortably on the coffee table. Sigh. Clearly, my time is up.
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