True Love

Valentine's Day is tomorrow... or in an hour and 21 minutes from now.  We've all been inundated with commercials from flower shops and jewelry stores, each trying to tell us how we should properly express love to our significant other.

I spent years having a hate-hate relationship with Valentine's Day.  It is a truly lonely day when you are single.  You spend the day avoiding the perky girls with the 3 dozen red roses sitting on their desk, which can be difficult to do when they're accompanied by an 8 foot high mylar balloon bouquet and a vat of chocolate, and when it seems every cubicle in a thousand yard radius is occupied by the aforementioned perkiness.  You note with irritation that it is really just a made-up holiday to make money for the card companies.  You get bitter, and more than a little cynical about love in general.

Things have changed for me in the past few years.  God put a man in my life.  The one.   And just like that, my perspective on so many things changed.

My husband and I both had first marriages that were... well... not what they were meant to be.  I could tell some stories on both of us, but the important thing to take away is this: God was never invited into those marriages.  There is a reason that Scripture tells us not to be unequally yoked.

When my first marriage ended, I was full of fear.  That is not easy for me to admit, because I much prefer to be the tough one.  I'm a fighter, after all.  I was 28 years old, had two young children and a lot of excess baggage.  I was scared of being alone, scared of never finding someone who truly loved me, scared of being a single parent... you name it, and I was scared of it.  Don't get me wrong, I can pull off all kinds of bravado.  I've got a great game face, but deep down inside... I was terrified.  God did for me what He so often has to do... He brought me to my knees.   In the Bible study I'm currently doing, I recently read that blessings are often received when one is kneeling.  That is profound.

Once I started to get into His word, once I started to not just talk to Him, but listen as well... things started changing, but certainly not on my time schedule.   Here I was, going to church every time the doors opened, spending time in prayer and study every day, trying really hard to do all the right things, to say the right things, because God had told me that He had someone for me.  I had to rely on Him.  I had to be obedient, which just so happened to include remaining celibate.  Seriously?  Celibate?  But God... isn't that really for teenagers, and people who have never been married?  Are You sure it applies to me too?  Because let's be honest.... that's a tall order, and I'm a fan of... well, you know... non-celibacy.  Well, fine... because You said he's out there... so I'm sure he's just around the next corner.  Only he wasn't.  Five and a half very looooooong years, I waited.  Not patiently, mind you... but I waited all the same.

I prayed over the mystery man.  I prayed he would be 6 feet tall with dark hair and dark eyes.  I prayed that he would be a cowboy.  I prayed that he would have integrity and be able to love my kids just like they were his.  I prayed that he would be a godly man and a leader.  I prayed that he would have a spine, and not take any of my crap.  I prayed he would be aggressive yet gentle.   I prayed that his smile would be just so.

I was introduced to Bob by a close friend and colleague.  By then, I was getting a little impatient.  I thought maybe, just maybe, I had misunderstood God.  I mean, it's not like he audibly told me about this guy.  What if my discernment was off?  I wouldn't agree to meet this guy she wanted to introduce me to. Thanks, but no.  However, my friend is persistent.  She just kept talking about him, no matter how many times I said "Thanks, but no."  She mentioned that he had a son who was four, and how devoted Bob was to him, and then she mentioned that he also had an eleven year old step-son who Bob had raised since age 2.  She told me how even though Bob was no longer married to this boy's mother, that he still picked him up for visitation whenever he could.  He still was very much part of this boy's life.  That gave me pause.  I was used to a man that didn't take care of his own kids, and here was someone who still loved his stepson so much that he wanted to continue to care for him after his divorce.  Hmmm... well, that may mean he would be able to love my kids like his own as well... and well... that was on the list.

I agreed to meet him along with my friend for just a lunch.  I knew when he walked in the door that this was the guy.  You know... THE guy.  While originally from Minnesota, he went to high school in Dallas -Fort Worth, and college in Lubbock.  He's a cowboy alright... more in attitude than apparel, but a cowboy just the same.  He's 6 feet tall, right on the money, with dark hair, dark eyes and a killer smile.   Most importantly, he loves God, and leads a Christian household.  He fit the bill.  Not just a little bit... he met every requirement I threw up to God.... and you know what?  He was so worth the wait.

He has a story too... about how God put me in his path right when he wasn't ready for it...  when he had decided to be alone and focus on his career.  There's more to it, but that's his story to tell... and I know how cool it is.

The reason our marriage works is because instead of the two of us... it's the three of us.  God is in the middle, holding the two of us together.  God's love is the love that counts.  His love is the only True Love.  He loved us enough to send and sacrifice His son.

Valentine's Day... it's still a bit of a made-up holiday.  You certainly shouldn't wait for one day out of the year to celebrate your love for your significant other.  It's still cheesy and flower-filled, and I still sometimes want to kick the perky girls with all the balloons.... but you know what else?  It's also a little reminder that God put me with the man He had designed just for me.  More than that, it's a reminder that the ultimate love is something we are incapable of giving.  Agape love... we'll never quite measure up.  We're imperfect, so we do envy, and we do boast... but God doesn't.  He loves us with all our flaws, patiently, and perfectly.

4 Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, 5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; 6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; 7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. 8 Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. 9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. 10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. 11 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 13 And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

So Happy Valentine's Day... because regardless of your relationship status... you are loved.  You are fully and completely loved in a way you can't truly even imagine.  Don't kick the perky girls, they're loved completely too, balloons notwithstanding.

Snow, snow, snow

I am not a fan of snow.  I'm even less of a fan when the kids have yet to have 1 complete week of school since the start of second quarter.  Couple that with a croupy toddler, and ridiculously cold temps (yes, I'm aware snow and cold go hand in hand), and I am just too through.

I was able to venture out to MOPS today, thank goodness.  I left Monkey with the Major so that he didn't infect any of his little friends, and I headed out into the frigid winter day.  On my way home, I saw (and accidentally almost killed... but only almost) a group of big, fat robins hanging out on the street.  (In fairness, I only almost killed just one, but I checked the rear view, and he survived it.)  I'll bet those robins are pretty ticked at whoever their little meteorologist robin is.   Who sent them here this early?  Did they form a little bird mob, and have him tarred and... well... unfeathered?  They looked stunned and were definitely moving pretty slowly, hence the near death experience of the big guy.  Are there rules about whether or not they can leave if they get here and are met with unexpected weather?  Can they head back to the south or wherever they flew in from?  Is there some kind of policy that prevents them from bailing?  Because if not, I would totally fly the crap out of here.   I'm just sayin'.  

I need to be able to make it to Bible Study on Thursday morning.  I need more time with my new friend, Gym.  I need to feel some heat other than from the heated seats in the car.  Although, truth be told, I am a HUGE fan of my butt warmers, but not such a fan of my huge butt, which is why I need continued time with Gym.  

I am aware that I have moved in the rambling section of this blog, but I am trying to stay awake until Major gets home from work.  I hate to be one of those mothers, but her being out there driving in this mess makes me a nightmare.  I'll sign off before I come up with even worse gibberish.  Good night, all!

Amelia Kay

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.

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...

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.