Remember in my last post how I was reminsicing about my sweet babies and how they're growing without my permission. Well, I'm completely over that today. 100%.
It all started on Thursday night. Chad got home late from work, my parents had dropped off a load of furniture to store here, and everyone was wound WAY up. So bedtimes were like 2+ hours later than they were supposed to be. By the time I crawled into bed, it was about 11:30 which is an hour and a half past my own bedtime. The last sound I remember hearing was the rattle of Chad popping a benadryl because something had gotten to him. That was the last sound for about 4 minutes, when all of a sudden, I hear Jack screaming and wailing. I quickly got him and put him in our bed, and I'm pretty sure it was night terrors of some sort. He was cantankerous and not to be calmed. I finally turned on disney junior and rolled over. About an hour later, his eyes were good and glazed over, so I turned off the tv. He promptly went to sleep right in the middle of my pillow. And from there, all 3 boys were in and out of sleep for the entire night. No one was sick. There was nary a boogie man to be found. Yet they all needed my attention in the middle of the night. The only time I got solid sleep was from 2a-3a. That's an hour folks. That's also about 8 hours less than I normally get/ need.
I should've seen the signs. This is so abnormal that I should've kept us in pj's all day and started a fresh on Saturday. Shoulda, coulda, woulda... that's all I can say about that.
So instead, I got up Friday morning on an hour of sleep, and got the 3 boys dressed. Gabe had gone with his Granny for a week-long staycation to end his summer, so it was just me and the littles. I decided breakfast prep was beyond my abilities and offered up Cracker Barrel instead. But no, they would only hear of donuts, and quite frankly, I wasn't in the mood to coerce about which type of sugar they were going to be getting, so I gave in. The was bad decision #1, because taking a dieting donut lover who is desperately trying to lose baby weight to Krispy Kreme when the light is on is like taking an alcoholic to an open bar. It wasn't pretty.
Next, I ran a few errands- took back a picture to Homegoods, mailed at package at the Post Office, ran to the bank, and fed the baby in the car. None of these are for the faint of heart if you're a mom to a 3 year old, a 2 year old, and a newborn. Namely because of those ages, approximately zero of them can buckle themselves and load themselves in and out of the car. But I had a little touch of "I am woman, hear me roar" and "can't nobody hold me down" going on, and I told these errands what was up!
Then I showed up at the Regal movie theater. (Insert laughter here). The plan was to meet 4 other girlfriends and their 8 children and see "Turbo". We had bought our tickets early, planned to arrive before the show started to potty and get popcorn and were all excited for the show. (It's ok if you're still laughing.) My girlfriend Jolynn who is pregnant with #4, and has a 4 year old, a 3 year old, and an 18 meh old even said to me, "you're lucky you still have one in the carrier". I just nodded and smiled because I was under the impression that this was going to be a good experience. I'm an idiot.
We went our own way when we got into the theater-- going potty while everyone got snacks. By the time we were in the snack line, it was long and my little guys were really excited and running amuck! I ordered a medium popcorn for us all to share, a medium cherry coke for me and Jack, and a small fruit punch for Max. $17 dollars and 95 pounds of sugar later, we headed into the movie. I had the baby in his carrier on one arm, my diaper bag on the other, a bag of pop corn, and a huge coke in my hands. Max was behind me with his cup, and Jack doing his waltz behind us. But Jack has never been to a movie before. And he's kinda skittish right now. And we entered the theatre once it was already dark and after the loud previews had started... Jack flipped, but I had no hands to help. So I went up to the middle, set the baby down, and then snacks and bags, got Max in his seat and went to rescue Jack. I got him comfortably settled in my lap, the popcorn helped him calm down quickly, the baby was on my right, buckled in, freshly fed and changed and ready for his nap, and Max on my left. I was sweating, but breathed in a sigh of relief- we were here, it was a cute mom-moment, and I was relishing my boys.
This lasted for 4 minutes.
Then the baby, my angel baby who never fusses, lost it. And I don't mean started with an easy fuss and worked his way up-- nope, he freaked! I got him out of his seat and moved to the end of the aisle to bounce as quickly I could... and it didn't help one bit. All of a sudden, the theatre of about 40 people morphed into 400 people and then 4000. I was dying. So I set the baby down on his blanket ON THE STEPS and ran back to my bag that was positioned behind Max to help him sit upright and hold the seat down and grabbed my Moby Wrap. The baby loves to be tied to me and it would certainly put him to sleep. During this, Jack decided he was going to the end of the aisle with me and nonchalantly picked up the full-to-the-top huge cherry coke that happened to be bigger than his head and dropped the entire thing. The whole theatre gasped- all 4 million people, and it had nothing to do with the movie. At this point, I was covered in cherry coke, Jack was covered in cherry coke and very upset that he had nothing to drink and my baby was on the floor at the end of the aisle, screaming his brains out.
I grabbed them as fast as I could and ran out of the movie. Without Max. Without my bag. Without my phone. Without my keys. Without the baby's seat. When I got out in the hall I just prayed that Max was ok and that he didn't feel abandoned although that is what he must certainly was! Now of course he was sitting right behind my girlfriends and his little friends, but he's my shy one who only likes to talk to me, so I just pictured him weeping silently. When I got outside, I put the baby back on the floor, no joke, to put my wrap on, and got the baby in it and waited for his instant settling. It never came. I bounced and walked and swayed and held the paci in his mouth, and still he cried. And honestly, I still have no idea what was going on. I eventually crept back in to check on Max with my still crying baby and saw that he was fine and ran back out. Jack was following along, and really as happy and complacent as could be, even though the circumstances were much less than ideal. We walked up and down every hallway, pointing to movie posters and discussing whether each person had a grumpy face or a happy face. We found squares on the floor to leap over. We used the mirrors on the ceiling to talk to and fake laugh at... and yes, we were the only ones in the whole lobby. The movie started at 11:45 and so at 1p, I asked the ticket attendant when Turbo was going to end, certain that time was almost up. He responded "at 1:35". I almost gave him my baby and left. Forever.
I was stuck. Stuck to the floor because of the cherry coke. Stuck because I had none of the things necessary to get me to my car and back to my house. Stuck because I didn't have my phone to call in back up. And stuck because my first born was still in the theatre (with all of my stuff!) enjoying the movie. I couldn't feed the baby to calm him down because there was no where to sit and no leash to tether Jack to me! I couldn't get the stroller because it was locked in my car. And I couldn't go back in the theatre for fear of my fellow movie goers who might not appreciate paying for a movie with the soundtrack of a screaming baby to go along with it. If the baby would've calmed down for even just a few minutes, I would've gone in and retrieved everything and ran away. But instead, I had to put my big girl panties on and continue bouncing around an empty movie theatre hoping my baby would fall asleep while trying to entertain a very busy 2 year old.
Finally, with 10 minutes left to the movie, the baby fell asleep. By this time, Jack was beside himself with his need for popcorn and of course I had nothing, so I couldn't buy him anymore and he was dying for a drink. So I decided to tiptoe back in and see what would happen... the baby stayed asleep... Jack got his rations... and I leaned back in the seat just in time to........ see the credits. When the lights came back on, and I collected my stuff, I apologized to Max for leaving him and he said "it's ok, I didn't say one word while you were gone." He also said it was the best movie he had seen yet.
Thanks for rubbing it in.
And as I drove home, I went over ways in my head on how to do it better next time. Where to position people, how to manage. I planned and thought and planned some more. Until it dawned on me. There will NEVER be a next time. I hope everyone enjoyed the last movie they will ever see in the theatre.
And by the way, my shoes are still sticky from the cherry coke incident.
Showing posts with label Patience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Patience. Show all posts
Monday, July 29, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
A Little Pre-term Scare
This happened way back at the beginning of the year on January 22nd, but I most certainly do want to remember these details so that someday I can tell our little nugget what I went through on his/ her account.... isn't that what mother's are supposed to do?
It was late January, and it was finally my turn to take dinner to our friends Brian and Wendy after they brought home sweet baby Joni. I had been looking forward to the excuse to see the baby again and Max was dying to see her-- he loves babies, for real, I'm not just saying that, and when we get a new announcement in the mail, he'll carry it around with him and ask me endless questions about the baby. We had planned all day to head their direction after naps, and Max would get to go in a peek at the baby. I got the car loaded with boys and food and ran in the potty once more before the 20 minute trek down the road... hey, I'm pregnant, remember?
We get about half way there and all of a sudden I HAVE to go again-- like not sure I can make it to their house. I even contemplate pulling into a gas station, but decide against unloading the boys, and letting them run their hands along only-God-knows what germs. With a little self talk, I make it to Wendy's, run to the door with the food and run into the bathroom. And I barely went. Like barely. AND right then I knew it-- I had a UTI. This wasn't my first UTI rodeo... somehow the stress and bad eating around finals time always caused me to them in college, and I got another when we first got married. Now granted, that had been almost 5 years ago, but this is something you don't forget.
I briefly talked with Wendy and then ran back out to my car where my boys were still buckled in-- and I proceed to crush Max's dreams of seeing the baby. I said something about the baby sleeping and next time, and left him in a heap of tears, but I knew that time was ticking to get to a clinic and get some meds before it would be a night of hell. I looked up the nearest minute clinic on my phone, learning that it was just minutes away and that we still had an hour and a half before closing and I sighed with relief. I pointed the minivan (megafun) in the direction of the clinic and called Chad who was on his way home to let him know what was happening. He was coming from the opposite direction of me and he had Gabe with him, so I talked them through putting the rest of dinner together and said we'd be home shortly.
Lie.
When I got to CVS, they were all out of appointments for the day. I moaned aloud in agony, not sure what to do next. Over the course of the 12 mile drive back to my house, I literally had to stop at 5 public restrooms, unload my boys and carry them in, sit on the pot and NOT pee, while have weird bladder contractions, and yet still managing to feel better, at least for the next 4 minutes- which allowed me to get the boys back in the car, get 2 miles further down the road, and do it all again. And there was nothing anyone could do to help me. I called my friend Anna, asking for advice. And then I called my midwife who mentioned that this could get hairy pretty quick when pregnant and that it was necessary to get to an urgent care or ER right away. Really? Who wants to do all that when you dying in pain and just need an antibiotic. I could feel myself losing my cool more and more by every second... the pain was too much, the lugging of boys and the public restrooms, the constant stopping, and the hour is took me to go 12 miles was quite possibly pushing me into the looney bin. It was all I could do to stay calm and kind to my kids and the people I was talking to on the phone. By the time I got home, I literally ran in the house, leaving the boys in the car for Chad to come rescue.
I just went and sat on the potty and cried and moaned for a bit. Then I gathered what was left of my sanity and proceeded to get in touch with the Obstetrician at my office, hoping that she could just call in an antibiotic to get me through the night. But no... because they have to know what strain it is to know what antibiotic is necessary to treat it and if they start an antibiotic that isn't the right one, it still has the ability to mask the infection and therefore let it get worse and cause major damage before you know that it's even happening. Joy.
Did I mention that we were just days from moving at this point? And so Chad had to make a run to pick up a dresser I had bought and due to a couple unforeseen conflicts, it had been rescheduled several times, so I was insistent that he go. But of course he was already gone by the time I got word that I had to drive 40 minutes to the only urgent care clinic that was open in our area... that would be closing in an hour. So Anna had to rush over to sit with our boys, so that I could leave immediately and hopefully get there in time. I backed out of the driveway as she pulled in. That's what friends are for!
The drive to urgent care was ridiculous... I had my mom on the phone with me the whole way to keep me calm and talk me off the cliff.. and also to distract me... and probably to make sure I got their safely too. I stopped multiple times for bathrooms along the way, of course, but this time with no boys, making the trips quicker thank goodness! I was literally racing the clock to try and get their before they locked their doors. At one point, the gas station attendant, a lady, asked me to watch the store so she could go to the bathroom herself. I just felt like my patience and stamina were being tried in a way they never had before.
I finally made it to urgent care, got everything filled out, and got called back pretty quick-- what a blessing. But that's when things took a turn for the worst-- I had to leave a urine sample which tested positive for some pretty serious things, and by then there was bleeding and contractions as well. I was only 25 weeks pregnant at the time and literally, felt myself losing it as all this unfolded. The urgent care doc wanted me to get checked there, my midwife was saying no way, Chad was at home with the boys telling me to listen to my midwife and I was sitting in this little clinic room all alone crying. And then within 4 minutes, I was being sent to triage in Labor and Delivery. Without my husband. Or any support for that matter. I managed to walk myself to my car before losing it. I told Chad what was happening, and then I called my midwife and told her I was being sent to the hospital and she was elated. Apparently she was hoping that would happen because she thought it appeared to be more serious than I knew at the time. So I'm driving and crying and she just starts praying over me and the situation. (More to follow on my midwife, but dang, she's awesome). Then I called my mom to see if she could come meet me since Chad couldn't leave the boys. And then I texted a couple girlfriends asking for prayers.
After a potty stop, a quick pick up of an RX en route, and a brief stop to gain control over the tears, I managed to arrive at the hospital about 7 minutes before my mom got there. I got all checked in and was being taken to my room when she walked off the elevator. When I first got their, the nurses didn't seem too worried and just went about protocol, but something happened at some point, no one really ever told me what they found that escalated things, but all of a sudden, I was multiple bands around my belly, and IV in my arm, fluids in another bag, and this huge cup that I was told to drain every 10 minutes. Which let's pause for a second to point out the obvious-- I was already making crazy repetitive bathroom stops and then they start pumping all this into my system and I could barely sit in the bed for 2 minutes before having to unhook everything and go AGAIN. But my contractions were kicking across the screen, which at 25 weeks is the exact opposite of what should be happening, and I was told it would either be completely better in 30 minutes, or it would be bad and they would have to begin to stop labor.
Awesome.
Did I mention Chad was at home? And that my phone was dead? Yep. So my Mom kept him and my bro updated, and helped me in and out of the bed 47 million times, and then before we knew it, all was calm in my belly and I was no longer in pain. Now that's what I'm talking about-- that's why we love antibiotics!!! And just like they predicted, within 30 minutes I was in the clear- thank you Jesus! I had to finish both IV bags, and drink a certain amount of fluids, and the midwife had to come by and check my cervix before I could be officially discharged. And then I was sent with another full prescription of antibiotics. And just to think that all this started at dinner time and I managed to get myself in my own bed by 1:00am. Usually Chad has the ability to sleep in any stressful situation, regardless of what or who is in the midst of it-- but not this time-- he was waiting in bed with the tv on and not even close to sleep. As I got myself, my meds, and my fluids situated, he looked at me and said "It has to be a girl, because she's already a pain in our butt!" :)
We shall see if the 2 uneventful pregnancies compared with this whacko one really does produce a high maintenance little lady that already has her Daddy wrapped around her finger, or if it's just another boy trying really hard to make a name for himself so he doesn't just blend into our blonde brood... regardless of the outcome, I would like to say that 1 evening of high drama is quite enough, and I'm so grateful that it ended there, with no long term ramifications or bed rest or a NICU baby.... oh my Jesus, thank you! And I'm also incredibly grateful for my jump in the car at a moment's notice mother, and friend Anna, and for my praying friends too. My support system is such a blessing.
It was late January, and it was finally my turn to take dinner to our friends Brian and Wendy after they brought home sweet baby Joni. I had been looking forward to the excuse to see the baby again and Max was dying to see her-- he loves babies, for real, I'm not just saying that, and when we get a new announcement in the mail, he'll carry it around with him and ask me endless questions about the baby. We had planned all day to head their direction after naps, and Max would get to go in a peek at the baby. I got the car loaded with boys and food and ran in the potty once more before the 20 minute trek down the road... hey, I'm pregnant, remember?
We get about half way there and all of a sudden I HAVE to go again-- like not sure I can make it to their house. I even contemplate pulling into a gas station, but decide against unloading the boys, and letting them run their hands along only-God-knows what germs. With a little self talk, I make it to Wendy's, run to the door with the food and run into the bathroom. And I barely went. Like barely. AND right then I knew it-- I had a UTI. This wasn't my first UTI rodeo... somehow the stress and bad eating around finals time always caused me to them in college, and I got another when we first got married. Now granted, that had been almost 5 years ago, but this is something you don't forget.
I briefly talked with Wendy and then ran back out to my car where my boys were still buckled in-- and I proceed to crush Max's dreams of seeing the baby. I said something about the baby sleeping and next time, and left him in a heap of tears, but I knew that time was ticking to get to a clinic and get some meds before it would be a night of hell. I looked up the nearest minute clinic on my phone, learning that it was just minutes away and that we still had an hour and a half before closing and I sighed with relief. I pointed the minivan (megafun) in the direction of the clinic and called Chad who was on his way home to let him know what was happening. He was coming from the opposite direction of me and he had Gabe with him, so I talked them through putting the rest of dinner together and said we'd be home shortly.
Lie.
When I got to CVS, they were all out of appointments for the day. I moaned aloud in agony, not sure what to do next. Over the course of the 12 mile drive back to my house, I literally had to stop at 5 public restrooms, unload my boys and carry them in, sit on the pot and NOT pee, while have weird bladder contractions, and yet still managing to feel better, at least for the next 4 minutes- which allowed me to get the boys back in the car, get 2 miles further down the road, and do it all again. And there was nothing anyone could do to help me. I called my friend Anna, asking for advice. And then I called my midwife who mentioned that this could get hairy pretty quick when pregnant and that it was necessary to get to an urgent care or ER right away. Really? Who wants to do all that when you dying in pain and just need an antibiotic. I could feel myself losing my cool more and more by every second... the pain was too much, the lugging of boys and the public restrooms, the constant stopping, and the hour is took me to go 12 miles was quite possibly pushing me into the looney bin. It was all I could do to stay calm and kind to my kids and the people I was talking to on the phone. By the time I got home, I literally ran in the house, leaving the boys in the car for Chad to come rescue.
I just went and sat on the potty and cried and moaned for a bit. Then I gathered what was left of my sanity and proceeded to get in touch with the Obstetrician at my office, hoping that she could just call in an antibiotic to get me through the night. But no... because they have to know what strain it is to know what antibiotic is necessary to treat it and if they start an antibiotic that isn't the right one, it still has the ability to mask the infection and therefore let it get worse and cause major damage before you know that it's even happening. Joy.
Did I mention that we were just days from moving at this point? And so Chad had to make a run to pick up a dresser I had bought and due to a couple unforeseen conflicts, it had been rescheduled several times, so I was insistent that he go. But of course he was already gone by the time I got word that I had to drive 40 minutes to the only urgent care clinic that was open in our area... that would be closing in an hour. So Anna had to rush over to sit with our boys, so that I could leave immediately and hopefully get there in time. I backed out of the driveway as she pulled in. That's what friends are for!
The drive to urgent care was ridiculous... I had my mom on the phone with me the whole way to keep me calm and talk me off the cliff.. and also to distract me... and probably to make sure I got their safely too. I stopped multiple times for bathrooms along the way, of course, but this time with no boys, making the trips quicker thank goodness! I was literally racing the clock to try and get their before they locked their doors. At one point, the gas station attendant, a lady, asked me to watch the store so she could go to the bathroom herself. I just felt like my patience and stamina were being tried in a way they never had before.
I finally made it to urgent care, got everything filled out, and got called back pretty quick-- what a blessing. But that's when things took a turn for the worst-- I had to leave a urine sample which tested positive for some pretty serious things, and by then there was bleeding and contractions as well. I was only 25 weeks pregnant at the time and literally, felt myself losing it as all this unfolded. The urgent care doc wanted me to get checked there, my midwife was saying no way, Chad was at home with the boys telling me to listen to my midwife and I was sitting in this little clinic room all alone crying. And then within 4 minutes, I was being sent to triage in Labor and Delivery. Without my husband. Or any support for that matter. I managed to walk myself to my car before losing it. I told Chad what was happening, and then I called my midwife and told her I was being sent to the hospital and she was elated. Apparently she was hoping that would happen because she thought it appeared to be more serious than I knew at the time. So I'm driving and crying and she just starts praying over me and the situation. (More to follow on my midwife, but dang, she's awesome). Then I called my mom to see if she could come meet me since Chad couldn't leave the boys. And then I texted a couple girlfriends asking for prayers.
After a potty stop, a quick pick up of an RX en route, and a brief stop to gain control over the tears, I managed to arrive at the hospital about 7 minutes before my mom got there. I got all checked in and was being taken to my room when she walked off the elevator. When I first got their, the nurses didn't seem too worried and just went about protocol, but something happened at some point, no one really ever told me what they found that escalated things, but all of a sudden, I was multiple bands around my belly, and IV in my arm, fluids in another bag, and this huge cup that I was told to drain every 10 minutes. Which let's pause for a second to point out the obvious-- I was already making crazy repetitive bathroom stops and then they start pumping all this into my system and I could barely sit in the bed for 2 minutes before having to unhook everything and go AGAIN. But my contractions were kicking across the screen, which at 25 weeks is the exact opposite of what should be happening, and I was told it would either be completely better in 30 minutes, or it would be bad and they would have to begin to stop labor.
Awesome.
Did I mention Chad was at home? And that my phone was dead? Yep. So my Mom kept him and my bro updated, and helped me in and out of the bed 47 million times, and then before we knew it, all was calm in my belly and I was no longer in pain. Now that's what I'm talking about-- that's why we love antibiotics!!! And just like they predicted, within 30 minutes I was in the clear- thank you Jesus! I had to finish both IV bags, and drink a certain amount of fluids, and the midwife had to come by and check my cervix before I could be officially discharged. And then I was sent with another full prescription of antibiotics. And just to think that all this started at dinner time and I managed to get myself in my own bed by 1:00am. Usually Chad has the ability to sleep in any stressful situation, regardless of what or who is in the midst of it-- but not this time-- he was waiting in bed with the tv on and not even close to sleep. As I got myself, my meds, and my fluids situated, he looked at me and said "It has to be a girl, because she's already a pain in our butt!" :)
We shall see if the 2 uneventful pregnancies compared with this whacko one really does produce a high maintenance little lady that already has her Daddy wrapped around her finger, or if it's just another boy trying really hard to make a name for himself so he doesn't just blend into our blonde brood... regardless of the outcome, I would like to say that 1 evening of high drama is quite enough, and I'm so grateful that it ended there, with no long term ramifications or bed rest or a NICU baby.... oh my Jesus, thank you! And I'm also incredibly grateful for my jump in the car at a moment's notice mother, and friend Anna, and for my praying friends too. My support system is such a blessing.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Mother of the Year...
When Max was between 12-18 months and disciplining became a normal and necessary part of everyday day (second!) I pretty quickly felt the Lord's prodding to pick my battles because I certainly wasn't going to be able to teach him everything a godly man needed to know before his 2nd birthday.
I landed on 3 main offenses that warranted strong discipline every single time:
1) Disrespect
2) Disobedience
3) Dishonesty
At that point, those became the 3 battles that we fight around the clock, and then we just "correct" other offenses as they happen, without the strong training. So you can catch me saying "That wasn't respectful-- you must show kindness to show others they are important" or "You need to learn to obey Mommy every time so that you can learn to obey God" or "It's important to always tell the truth so others can trust you all the time" at least 100 times a day. And that's just for Max. Jack has now entered this stage as well, so double it-- at least!
(Side note: If you've listened to Andy and Sandra Stanley's recent series, from Northpoint Church, on family, they mention that someone shared those 3 golden rules with them prior to their having children and I've just got to say, that when I listened to that message almost 2 years after the Lord laid those same things on my heart, and I literally wept-- I just love when the Lord impresses His message on His people and then you get confirmation that you're fighting the right fight. A few weeks after that, I was at a ladies night, and talking with my friend Lisa who also fights these same 3 battles plus they added "aggression"and again, I was just moved at how God speaks to moms and parents-- just right in your own heart, but come to find out, He is giving us all the same message in order to succeed in His eyes.)
As a mom, let me just say, that while this is only 3 rules-- A LOT fits into these categories and it is constantly the words on my tongue, like all the live long day, Lord help me! Granted, it also works in my favor because "Max, you are not showing respect to the house when you knock that bat into the wall" also completely makes sense in line with our rules but also helps me protect my house and manage chaos.
My day is filled with loud squeals in order to communicate dislike for my commands, thrashing about to avoid spankings, shouts and guttural growls to display their unhappiness with me, comments of "I'm neber going to obey" and "I'll neber show respect" and "I don't wanna get control-- lots of room sitting and nose to nose conversations with my small people. I use a wooden spoon on their behinds way too often for my mom heart, but God never said that this job was easy. But it only takes one small "victory"to give me the fuel needed to keep on keeping on. One small hug or kiss or "I love you Mommy" also goes a long way :)
But let me just say one more time, I am fighting the fight people, and I am smack worn out! I mean, it's just a constant lesson, a constant battle, and unfortunately for me, constant discipling. (I'm not asking for a pity party-- I totally get that between 2-3 years old, it's HARD and that why parents for generations have been saying what they say about two's and terribles and toddlers, etc... this is just the stage of parenting that I'm in right now and I can't see the other side quite yet.) So on Sunday, all my hard work was given the spot light to shine...
My 6th grade girls that I lead at church followed me downstairs to the kids department because they wanted to see my boys after I picked them up from their class. They we all standing behind me as I stuck my head in my sweet Max's class and said "Maaaxxx!" I picked up his coat and he ran towards me:
And proceeded to screeched the loudest screech with the meanest scrunched up face and then HIT me.
Yep, mother of the year folks-- that's me! Look at me shine!
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
IRS Update
I know you’ve been on the edge of your seat about our IRS debacle. Do you remember what I’m talking about?
Recap: http://parentingbuildscharacter.blogspot.com/2012/02/when-life-makes-you-cuss.html
Well as I ended my post, I knew it was going to work out, but I just didn’t know how it was going to work out. Which has turned out to be very true.
It started with lots of phone calls and letters to the IRS. Then some research and speaking with an attorney. And what is boiled down to was that our accountant was at fault, there is nothing we could do about it, and so we did indeed owe the IRS a million dollars. Ok, so really it was like $11,000 but it felt like a million dollars! Our accountant did write a letter on our behalf, explaining how it was his fault, and asking them to remove certain fees and penalties so it ended up that we “only” owed $8,993.91. Only.
Believe it or not, by this point, I think mostly because of the long, drawn out process, I was totally ok with it by this point. I knew I had explored every possibility and I now understood, although not fair, that we did indeed owe that money even though we did indeed qualify for the housing credit, fair and square. Honestly, I think it was just another one of the Lord’s works in my heart—by the time it was time, I was ready to sign the papers and accept the bill.
Chad on the other hand, not so much. His blood never boiled during the first many rounds of back and forth with the IRS- he never got mad at their answers, or felt the need for any deep research. So by the time I had reached the point of a “ok, whatever is Caeser’s, I will give to Caesar” attitude, Chad changed places with me- all of a sudden, it seemed to hit him that this wasn’t going away, and it was an outrage, causing him to throw the temper tantrum and go into denial and scream and shout like I did back when this all started.
And then one day, he came home while I was in the midst of getting the boys into pj’s and he nonchalantly said “I’ve got good news.”
You’re guessing that he conquered the IRS, right? Wrong! Instead, out of nowhere, for no reason except kindness and love and generosity, with no strings attached, Chad’s parents called him while he was working and offered to foot the bill for us.
Seriously.
Did you read that? They just sent us a cashier’s check for the total!
So we signed the form and sent it back to the IRS and waited for a bill. We got it, paid it, and it’s behind us now.
NOT!!!!! Because nothing with the IRS works like that. Instead, while we waited for the bill from them, we managed to accrue a beaucoup of interest and more penalties. Seriously. And after another several rounds of calls and letters, I have no idea if we’ve even gotten anywhere and I just get transferred from department to department. And I think that the IRS are some of Satan’s pawns just trying to cause me to lose my religion and go all crazy and mangle people. I honestly don’t know where we are at this point- I’ve sent the $8993.91 and they’ve cashed it. And I’ve sent several strongly worded letters after speaking to every department possible over the course of 746433 hours on the phone with them. But as far as I’m concerned it’s over. And really, it was just a good process for my heart to walk through—getting a big unexpected bill, grasping as our money like it was ours, God moving my heart and opening my hands and releasing control and money, and then to be overwhelmed by the unexpected generosity of Chad’s parents.
Needless to say, we are so grateful and we have learned so much. But if anything like this every happens again, I may run for the boarder and never look back ☺ Kidding… kinda… mainly because they don’t have Chick-fil-A over the boarder!
Recap: http://parentingbuildscharacter.blogspot.com/2012/02/when-life-makes-you-cuss.html
Well as I ended my post, I knew it was going to work out, but I just didn’t know how it was going to work out. Which has turned out to be very true.
It started with lots of phone calls and letters to the IRS. Then some research and speaking with an attorney. And what is boiled down to was that our accountant was at fault, there is nothing we could do about it, and so we did indeed owe the IRS a million dollars. Ok, so really it was like $11,000 but it felt like a million dollars! Our accountant did write a letter on our behalf, explaining how it was his fault, and asking them to remove certain fees and penalties so it ended up that we “only” owed $8,993.91. Only.
Believe it or not, by this point, I think mostly because of the long, drawn out process, I was totally ok with it by this point. I knew I had explored every possibility and I now understood, although not fair, that we did indeed owe that money even though we did indeed qualify for the housing credit, fair and square. Honestly, I think it was just another one of the Lord’s works in my heart—by the time it was time, I was ready to sign the papers and accept the bill.
Chad on the other hand, not so much. His blood never boiled during the first many rounds of back and forth with the IRS- he never got mad at their answers, or felt the need for any deep research. So by the time I had reached the point of a “ok, whatever is Caeser’s, I will give to Caesar” attitude, Chad changed places with me- all of a sudden, it seemed to hit him that this wasn’t going away, and it was an outrage, causing him to throw the temper tantrum and go into denial and scream and shout like I did back when this all started.
And then one day, he came home while I was in the midst of getting the boys into pj’s and he nonchalantly said “I’ve got good news.”
You’re guessing that he conquered the IRS, right? Wrong! Instead, out of nowhere, for no reason except kindness and love and generosity, with no strings attached, Chad’s parents called him while he was working and offered to foot the bill for us.
Seriously.
Did you read that? They just sent us a cashier’s check for the total!
So we signed the form and sent it back to the IRS and waited for a bill. We got it, paid it, and it’s behind us now.
NOT!!!!! Because nothing with the IRS works like that. Instead, while we waited for the bill from them, we managed to accrue a beaucoup of interest and more penalties. Seriously. And after another several rounds of calls and letters, I have no idea if we’ve even gotten anywhere and I just get transferred from department to department. And I think that the IRS are some of Satan’s pawns just trying to cause me to lose my religion and go all crazy and mangle people. I honestly don’t know where we are at this point- I’ve sent the $8993.91 and they’ve cashed it. And I’ve sent several strongly worded letters after speaking to every department possible over the course of 746433 hours on the phone with them. But as far as I’m concerned it’s over. And really, it was just a good process for my heart to walk through—getting a big unexpected bill, grasping as our money like it was ours, God moving my heart and opening my hands and releasing control and money, and then to be overwhelmed by the unexpected generosity of Chad’s parents.
Needless to say, we are so grateful and we have learned so much. But if anything like this every happens again, I may run for the boarder and never look back ☺ Kidding… kinda… mainly because they don’t have Chick-fil-A over the boarder!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Farewell Paci
We're 15 days into the month of January, and you can say I've up and made myself crazy.
Let's start at the beginning....
Max has been a paci baby his whole life... I have WAY more pictures of him with the paci in his mouth than without. Recently, between our "paci jar" and the "you're not in your bed" rule, we've cut down on it quite a lot, but with Max, if he's chill for more than 5 seconds than he needs his paci-buggle, which is one word, because they go together so strongly in his mind-- kind of like the Max version of pb& j-- you just wouldn't have one without the other.
Well somewhere along the line, (WAY back in 2011) I decided that on January 1st, 2012 that we would throw the paci away-- there are a couple reasons for this:
1) I was falling victim to social pressures and disapproval for allowing my 2+ year old to have a paci
2) Chad is constantly worrying about his teeth
3) I thought January 1st, 2012 was a long, Long, LONG way away
But on January 1st, when he got out of bed, as we had discussed for the previous 1-2 weeks, Max put the paci in the trashcan and it hasn't been seen since. I must say that he handled it WAY better than I did-- it made me sad, like real tears were shed, and it still hurts my heart to think about it- probably because it did cause him some emotional distress, but mainly, because it was his last "baby" thing-- it made him look young and tiny and like my little baby Max.
Max fared much better.... he was a little bit sad but he never could find words for what he was feeling. He never asked for it, but when it came time to watch tv or cuddle up for his nap, there was something missing and he knew it. For a couple nights and a couple naps, he didn't sleep as well and he slept a little shorter than normal. He'd wake up whimpering in the night, but within a few minutes, he'd fall back to sleep. Which is good, because this sad mama heart would not have stood for much more. But now, here we sit 2 weeks later and he's completely whole, completely happy, sleeping as good as ever. (But I'm never taking his buggle away-- if he wants to take it to college, I'll encourage it! Slumber parties? Go right ahead! Put it in his coat pocket the day of his wedding? You betcha, that's every woman's dream for her groom!)
But since ripping that band-aid off wasn't nearly as painful as I had planned, I decided to go all in-- we had a couple more "bad" habits going on at the Bowman homestead, so why not conquer them all at once? I wasn't sleep good anyway, so why not make it worse? So, the new rules for Jack include not being picked up/ fed anytime before 4am (he eats at 7:30 and then started waking up like every hour or 2 and screaming his head off....) and I went ahead and broke his swaddle as well. "Swaddle?" you say, "isn't that for newborns?" To which I'd say yes! And Jack. He loves it. It makes him so happy-- he'll be fussing and I'll go swaddle him and he's practically asleep before I can lay him down. But he's almost outgrown every swaddle I can find on the market AND he needs to be rolling around and playing in his crib to develop all his muscles and learn new tricks-- so I went all in. Can't you just see that crazy in my eyes?
If Jack wakes before 4am, I just go in and sing. Slowly but surely he's decided that while those songs are nice, he'd rather just sleep if he can't get to GOOD stuff (milk!). So 3 of 4 last several nights, he's only woken up once. PTL. AND he has already taught himself to fall asleep unswaddled. Sometimes he does still wake up in the middle of the night, but he's not mad. He talks, rolls around, turns himself about, does a little hokey pokey, and then goes right back to sleep. So, once this becomes the rule, rather than the exception and blogworthy news, then I'm just going to sing at 4am too.
February will be the month where all the Bowman people sleep through the night, every single night. AND I'm busting my booty in January to make sure this is the case! It's go BIG or go home-- team MOM rocks!
Let's start at the beginning....
Max has been a paci baby his whole life... I have WAY more pictures of him with the paci in his mouth than without. Recently, between our "paci jar" and the "you're not in your bed" rule, we've cut down on it quite a lot, but with Max, if he's chill for more than 5 seconds than he needs his paci-buggle, which is one word, because they go together so strongly in his mind-- kind of like the Max version of pb& j-- you just wouldn't have one without the other.
Well somewhere along the line, (WAY back in 2011) I decided that on January 1st, 2012 that we would throw the paci away-- there are a couple reasons for this:
1) I was falling victim to social pressures and disapproval for allowing my 2+ year old to have a paci
2) Chad is constantly worrying about his teeth
3) I thought January 1st, 2012 was a long, Long, LONG way away
But on January 1st, when he got out of bed, as we had discussed for the previous 1-2 weeks, Max put the paci in the trashcan and it hasn't been seen since. I must say that he handled it WAY better than I did-- it made me sad, like real tears were shed, and it still hurts my heart to think about it- probably because it did cause him some emotional distress, but mainly, because it was his last "baby" thing-- it made him look young and tiny and like my little baby Max.
Max fared much better.... he was a little bit sad but he never could find words for what he was feeling. He never asked for it, but when it came time to watch tv or cuddle up for his nap, there was something missing and he knew it. For a couple nights and a couple naps, he didn't sleep as well and he slept a little shorter than normal. He'd wake up whimpering in the night, but within a few minutes, he'd fall back to sleep. Which is good, because this sad mama heart would not have stood for much more. But now, here we sit 2 weeks later and he's completely whole, completely happy, sleeping as good as ever. (But I'm never taking his buggle away-- if he wants to take it to college, I'll encourage it! Slumber parties? Go right ahead! Put it in his coat pocket the day of his wedding? You betcha, that's every woman's dream for her groom!)
But since ripping that band-aid off wasn't nearly as painful as I had planned, I decided to go all in-- we had a couple more "bad" habits going on at the Bowman homestead, so why not conquer them all at once? I wasn't sleep good anyway, so why not make it worse? So, the new rules for Jack include not being picked up/ fed anytime before 4am (he eats at 7:30 and then started waking up like every hour or 2 and screaming his head off....) and I went ahead and broke his swaddle as well. "Swaddle?" you say, "isn't that for newborns?" To which I'd say yes! And Jack. He loves it. It makes him so happy-- he'll be fussing and I'll go swaddle him and he's practically asleep before I can lay him down. But he's almost outgrown every swaddle I can find on the market AND he needs to be rolling around and playing in his crib to develop all his muscles and learn new tricks-- so I went all in. Can't you just see that crazy in my eyes?
If Jack wakes before 4am, I just go in and sing. Slowly but surely he's decided that while those songs are nice, he'd rather just sleep if he can't get to GOOD stuff (milk!). So 3 of 4 last several nights, he's only woken up once. PTL. AND he has already taught himself to fall asleep unswaddled. Sometimes he does still wake up in the middle of the night, but he's not mad. He talks, rolls around, turns himself about, does a little hokey pokey, and then goes right back to sleep. So, once this becomes the rule, rather than the exception and blogworthy news, then I'm just going to sing at 4am too.
February will be the month where all the Bowman people sleep through the night, every single night. AND I'm busting my booty in January to make sure this is the case! It's go BIG or go home-- team MOM rocks!
Max's first picture ever with a paci:
Max's last picture ever with a paci
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
A Little Scare
So I've mentioned like 100 times that this pregnancy is totally different! It's been great and easy and has just flown by... until a couple days ago. On Thursday I started feeling "off"- sometimes I'd have weird pain, sometimes I'd get clammy and dizzy, and sometimes I'd just feel like I was going to throw up. I've had no appetite and really really bad heartburn, too. And I've been having lots and lots of Braxton Hicks contractions. Some of them have been really strong too-- not painful, but enough to catch my breath or stop me in my tracks.
So the side story, is that at my 28 week appointment, when I was telling my midwife how great I was, etc... she told me that technically it was time for me to start coming every 2 weeks-- but since this was #2 and since I was doing so well, that I could stretch the next appointment to 3 or 4 weeks. And when I went to set the appointment, I was set on getting one with her because she is my FAVORITE, so it actually ended up being 5 weeks later-- at 33 weeks.... which is/was scheduled for tomorrow....
So back to being "off"-- I finally called the office and spoke with a nurse and told them what was going on, and they had me come in today. And then all morning I basically had non-stop contractions. It was the most intense that it had been- but still wasn't painful or actual labor.
So by now, it's probably obvious that I'm a worrier. Apparently, I get this from my great grandmother Lucille-- my Dad calls me Lucille anytime I start to get worked up or nervous or anxious. It's his way of telling me to calm down. For instance, the other night, when there were storms across the south, as soon as our sirens started going off, me and the boys went to sleep in the garage (where our house is underground) while Chad went outside to watch! If someone says they'll be here at a certain time and then they are late and not answering the phone, I assume it's a car wreck, etc etc etc.... WORRIER!
So anyway, by the time I was getting close to the doctor, I had myself so worked up that I was sure that I was going to have to have a c-section today, birth a 4 lb baby, stay in the NICU for weeks, and barely be able to hold myself together-- all while Chad was working and unable to make it to the hospital-- because that's realistic, right??
Anyway, I have started to dilate slightly, and I am having a lot of contractions, but the baby is under no stress, his heart rate is wonderful, and I show no signs of real labor. So I have to 1) eat more protein 2) drink more water 3) cut my activity in half.
Did you read number 3? Um.... I have a 20 month old-- how exactly should I go about explaining that to him? And what about the laundry? And dinner? Do you think my family will be ok with no dinner or clean clothes for the next 7 weeks? I kid, because obviously, it just needs to be a temporary life style change and Chad and Gabe are already helping tremendously-- but the thought of cutting my "activity level" in half, with my personality, just makes me chuckle. And makes me crazy.
But the bottom line, as my doctor said, is that my body is telling me something, and I can either react to it now, or be put on bed rest-- my choice. Um......... I choose to take it easier. She also thinks I'll easily make it full term if I just adjust a bit-- so really-- this is not a big deal, and maybe even a blessing in disguise that I'm required to chill out, but I did pull a Chicken Little today as I drove and convinced myself that surely the sky was falling.
So the side story, is that at my 28 week appointment, when I was telling my midwife how great I was, etc... she told me that technically it was time for me to start coming every 2 weeks-- but since this was #2 and since I was doing so well, that I could stretch the next appointment to 3 or 4 weeks. And when I went to set the appointment, I was set on getting one with her because she is my FAVORITE, so it actually ended up being 5 weeks later-- at 33 weeks.... which is/was scheduled for tomorrow....
So back to being "off"-- I finally called the office and spoke with a nurse and told them what was going on, and they had me come in today. And then all morning I basically had non-stop contractions. It was the most intense that it had been- but still wasn't painful or actual labor.
So by now, it's probably obvious that I'm a worrier. Apparently, I get this from my great grandmother Lucille-- my Dad calls me Lucille anytime I start to get worked up or nervous or anxious. It's his way of telling me to calm down. For instance, the other night, when there were storms across the south, as soon as our sirens started going off, me and the boys went to sleep in the garage (where our house is underground) while Chad went outside to watch! If someone says they'll be here at a certain time and then they are late and not answering the phone, I assume it's a car wreck, etc etc etc.... WORRIER!
So anyway, by the time I was getting close to the doctor, I had myself so worked up that I was sure that I was going to have to have a c-section today, birth a 4 lb baby, stay in the NICU for weeks, and barely be able to hold myself together-- all while Chad was working and unable to make it to the hospital-- because that's realistic, right??
Anyway, I have started to dilate slightly, and I am having a lot of contractions, but the baby is under no stress, his heart rate is wonderful, and I show no signs of real labor. So I have to 1) eat more protein 2) drink more water 3) cut my activity in half.
Did you read number 3? Um.... I have a 20 month old-- how exactly should I go about explaining that to him? And what about the laundry? And dinner? Do you think my family will be ok with no dinner or clean clothes for the next 7 weeks? I kid, because obviously, it just needs to be a temporary life style change and Chad and Gabe are already helping tremendously-- but the thought of cutting my "activity level" in half, with my personality, just makes me chuckle. And makes me crazy.
But the bottom line, as my doctor said, is that my body is telling me something, and I can either react to it now, or be put on bed rest-- my choice. Um......... I choose to take it easier. She also thinks I'll easily make it full term if I just adjust a bit-- so really-- this is not a big deal, and maybe even a blessing in disguise that I'm required to chill out, but I did pull a Chicken Little today as I drove and convinced myself that surely the sky was falling.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Desperation
Sometimes, it's the little things that reminds me of the HUGE-ness of being a mom. The other night, during Max's bath, him and Gabe managed to soak the ENTIRE bathroom. Honestly, this is normal, and they always have so much fun playing in there, that we really don't discourage it. Gabe isn't in the bath with Max, but he might as well be! By the time the water is draining, Gabe's clothes are soaked and his glasses are dripping.
That night while Chad was getting Max out of the tub, I was helping Gabe mop up the floor with his bath towel. Then I had him put both his and Max's towel in the laundry. We then shuffled both of them into pj's, got their teeth brushed and sent them off to bed. Before I headed downstairs, I stopped by the bathroom for a potty break (thanks pregnancy for making this my #1 pass time). I looked over and noticed both of the empty hooks so I got out fresh towels for the boys. And it hit me. If I didn't get a towel out for Max, he would never get one. If I didn't bathe him, he would never be clean. If I didn't change his diaper, he would never get a new, fresh diaper. Max's depth of dependence on me overtook me in that moment. Although this wasn't the first time I had realized this truth, I was paralyzed by the bigness of this yet again.
Gabe is a slightly different story. I honestly think that if he were left to fend for himself, he would take showers and brush his teeth. Chad and I were just noticing the other night how Gabe has NEVER slept through his 6:30am alarm- he doesn't even lay there for a few minutes... it goes off, he hits it, and jumps out of bed, making his way straight to the shower. This eight year old could take care of himself. But he is dependent on us for meals, a roof over his head, and safety... for some reason, he can't remember to look both ways before he crosses a street without a reminder! He is also dependent on us emotionally. He needs to talk and he needs someone to listen and respond- Gabe doesn't do alone time for more than an hour- and that's only when I "make" him go read for an hour.
God blessed us with these boys- and really there are times when I just think my skin is going to pop open because of all the love in my chest. But He also made them dependent on me- needing me- learning from me- growing because of me. How humbling. How huge. The magnitude of the parenting role is so much that these words I'm fumbling and bumbling around for- I have the power to make or break these kids. What a responsibility. Thank goodness there is a big God leading the way. I pray I'm attentive to His leading- I pray for Christ in me.
The other day, while praying in a small group, my friend Courtney prayed "God, despite all these blessings, we are desperate for you". That statement has wrecked me- in a good way- this week. Despite all these blessings, despite me being wired to be a mom, despite the joy I find in mothering, despite the gratitude and gratefulness Chad and I have for these boys-- we need God. We are nothing, and can do nothing, a part from him.
That night while Chad was getting Max out of the tub, I was helping Gabe mop up the floor with his bath towel. Then I had him put both his and Max's towel in the laundry. We then shuffled both of them into pj's, got their teeth brushed and sent them off to bed. Before I headed downstairs, I stopped by the bathroom for a potty break (thanks pregnancy for making this my #1 pass time). I looked over and noticed both of the empty hooks so I got out fresh towels for the boys. And it hit me. If I didn't get a towel out for Max, he would never get one. If I didn't bathe him, he would never be clean. If I didn't change his diaper, he would never get a new, fresh diaper. Max's depth of dependence on me overtook me in that moment. Although this wasn't the first time I had realized this truth, I was paralyzed by the bigness of this yet again.
Gabe is a slightly different story. I honestly think that if he were left to fend for himself, he would take showers and brush his teeth. Chad and I were just noticing the other night how Gabe has NEVER slept through his 6:30am alarm- he doesn't even lay there for a few minutes... it goes off, he hits it, and jumps out of bed, making his way straight to the shower. This eight year old could take care of himself. But he is dependent on us for meals, a roof over his head, and safety... for some reason, he can't remember to look both ways before he crosses a street without a reminder! He is also dependent on us emotionally. He needs to talk and he needs someone to listen and respond- Gabe doesn't do alone time for more than an hour- and that's only when I "make" him go read for an hour.
God blessed us with these boys- and really there are times when I just think my skin is going to pop open because of all the love in my chest. But He also made them dependent on me- needing me- learning from me- growing because of me. How humbling. How huge. The magnitude of the parenting role is so much that these words I'm fumbling and bumbling around for- I have the power to make or break these kids. What a responsibility. Thank goodness there is a big God leading the way. I pray I'm attentive to His leading- I pray for Christ in me.
The other day, while praying in a small group, my friend Courtney prayed "God, despite all these blessings, we are desperate for you". That statement has wrecked me- in a good way- this week. Despite all these blessings, despite me being wired to be a mom, despite the joy I find in mothering, despite the gratitude and gratefulness Chad and I have for these boys-- we need God. We are nothing, and can do nothing, a part from him.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
And Baby Makes Four
A friend from church passed on this article to me, and it's a must-read for mommies! I'm attaching it here- but I can't find a link for it- they're all protected. But it's from Mothering.com and the author is Natalia Swenson Parker-- check it out below! Anyway, it's all about adding baby #2 to your brode, and luckily I read it after Jack was already growing or else I may have decided that Max was enough. I read the article one morning, over my coffee, and then promptly walked into the kitchen, BAWLING like a baby, and tried to tell Chad why we couldn't have Jack. Being the wise one that he is, he gently explained that it was too late and could I please stop blubbering long enough to explain what was going on.
To summarize, the article is GREAT! But it is realistic too, and the fact of the matter is that when you go from one baby to two, then hello, baby number one doesn't really get the attention they got before. It talks about greiving that "loss" but also you're so excited that you have a new baby that you just love and adore, and so then enters guilt. (This is on top of the lovely hormones and irrational behaviors that accompany a new baby). Oh my goodness, I just wasn't ready for all of this. And what about Max?
Needless to say, women have been having more then one child forEVER and as a child with two brothers, it was NOT a big deal- it was actually great- and not just was, it is. And my mom had enough love, and time, that we all made it out alive. Add that in to the fact that Gabe was 6 when we had Max- so for 6 years was THE center of the universe in MANY different houses, and although he has less attention since Max, they have so much darn stinkin love for each other, that he was over it in about .05 seconds. (Gabe is smart enough to TRY and play the "I feel left out" card, but we remind him of the 3894574389 people that love him and stop their lives for him every time he has a boo boo, or a performance at school, or a soccer game, and he quickly hides that card back in his pocket, waiting for the next time that it might work....) So I'm sure the same is true of the budding Bowman clan, we'll be fine, we'll survive, there will be love and cuddles and bonding, despite the chaos, but could you really expect me to be reasonable and rational at a time like this?
So all you seasoned moms, who have grown multiple children in your womb, what do I need to know? What are some tricks of the trade? Will I ever sleep again? How do I nurse with a 22 month old running around? How do I make sure Max still gets attention? And that he loves his brother? And that he knows that I love him something crazy? And will Jack feel left out? Or will it just be how it is for him? Anything you got, I want to hear it!
Thanks for suffering through that emotional breakdown with me... and I'm sure this is just one of those Parenting Builds Character things!
To summarize, the article is GREAT! But it is realistic too, and the fact of the matter is that when you go from one baby to two, then hello, baby number one doesn't really get the attention they got before. It talks about greiving that "loss" but also you're so excited that you have a new baby that you just love and adore, and so then enters guilt. (This is on top of the lovely hormones and irrational behaviors that accompany a new baby). Oh my goodness, I just wasn't ready for all of this. And what about Max?
Needless to say, women have been having more then one child forEVER and as a child with two brothers, it was NOT a big deal- it was actually great- and not just was, it is. And my mom had enough love, and time, that we all made it out alive. Add that in to the fact that Gabe was 6 when we had Max- so for 6 years was THE center of the universe in MANY different houses, and although he has less attention since Max, they have so much darn stinkin love for each other, that he was over it in about .05 seconds. (Gabe is smart enough to TRY and play the "I feel left out" card, but we remind him of the 3894574389 people that love him and stop their lives for him every time he has a boo boo, or a performance at school, or a soccer game, and he quickly hides that card back in his pocket, waiting for the next time that it might work....) So I'm sure the same is true of the budding Bowman clan, we'll be fine, we'll survive, there will be love and cuddles and bonding, despite the chaos, but could you really expect me to be reasonable and rational at a time like this?
So all you seasoned moms, who have grown multiple children in your womb, what do I need to know? What are some tricks of the trade? Will I ever sleep again? How do I nurse with a 22 month old running around? How do I make sure Max still gets attention? And that he loves his brother? And that he knows that I love him something crazy? And will Jack feel left out? Or will it just be how it is for him? Anything you got, I want to hear it!
Thanks for suffering through that emotional breakdown with me... and I'm sure this is just one of those Parenting Builds Character things!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
A Heavy Heart
Do you ever just get overwhelmed with sadness? I'm just heavy right now. And none of the stories are mine- and none of them are touching me directly- but somehow, they all seem to affect my soul.
Leslie Evans: A young lady my age, married a man with 3 children, 2 years after his wife/ their mother had died from Breast cancer. Shortly after getting married, they discovered they were pregnant, WITH twins. They were elated. But then she went into labor early, and the twins were born at about 21 weeks, and did not live. Shortly after giving birth, Leslie went into cardiac arrest. She was down for 17 minutes before they could revive. Leslie passed away October 7, 2010.
I have been following her blog, reading her story, watching videos of her life, and I cannot put into words the hurt in my chest. I've been praying for this family I don't know, and asking God to bring them peace. I don't understand why He allowed this man to lose 2 wives, and these children to lose 2 mom's. I don't understand why her body couldn't carry the babies full term, and why the water had to break early. I don't understand why these parents lost their daughter, and a brother lost his sister. And that's not even touching on the friends that lost, too. Honestly, I just can't make any sense of it. And I don't know her.
(A blog about her: http://lesliejoyevans.blogspot.com/) (Very worth starting at the beginning)
Lila: My co-worker, Cherie, has a 3 year old niece who went to the doctor on Monday for a cough, and was sent straight to Children's Healthcare for Leukemia. This little girl will start chemo tomorrow that will last for the next 2 years. And Lila's mom, who lost her own mother to cancer, has to watch her baby, lay in a bed, while chemicals fill her body in order to fight this nasty disease. Meanwhile, Lila's father also has a type of inoperable brain cancer, that will eventually take his life, although he doesn't have any effects/ problems with it now.
I've got to say, I just don't understand this either. As a mom, my insides scream upon hearing this story. When Cherie told me about this yesterday, I cried, and as I type about it today, I still cry. When it comes to Leukemia, she has the "good kind" but parents take their kids to the doctor for strep- not leukemia. And I can not imagine how powerless and helpless it must feel, to be a parent, watching something like this. Again, I don't understand.
Kate McRae: I have been following this little girl's story for over a year. Right before she was supposed to start kindergarden, Kate was diagnosed with brain cancer. They were able to remove a portion of the tumor, but due to location, couldn't get all of it. This little girl has been going through new treatments to try to beat this malignant cancer. Her parent's faith and prayers are edifying and real. You can hear hurt in her mother's typing, yet total reliance on God. Again, parents with no control, nothing they can do to change the situation, and at this point, they just wait to see if the treatment worked. They go back periodically for MRI's and other tests hoping to hear that the tumor hasn't grown, but expecting/ dreading the worst. All they can do is wait.
Her prayer blog: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/mcraekate
** These are by no means all the stories about stuff like this, I totally understand that-- these are just the ones on my heart and mind right now.
Stuff like this makes me just want to put my people in a bubble to protect them. It makes me want to use my time to write them love notes, and kiss them all over. I mean what if?
But chances are, this won't happen to us. And I'm pretty sure that trying to explain to God that I was too crippled by what might've happened to actually discipline my kids or train them, or too worried about what could've happened to love my neighbors and serve my husband, and too consumed with fear to spread the Good News, wouldn't be a good conversation to have with the Creator of the Universe, and a God that willingly gave his perfect son's life for my sin, so that I could spend eternity with Him.
I am not one to question God, and this is not to say that understand everything. I do NOT. But that is because He is God and I am not- and I don't have to understand everything- I just have to trust him. But if I'm honest, that's not always easy. I know He's BIG and I know He's LOVE and I know He's FORGIVING. So tonight, I just pray that have the courage to be the wife, mom, friend, co-worker, daughter, sister, etc that God has called me to be, and that I'll surrender control to the only ONE who deserves, God. Tonight I am casting other people's burdens on Him- to God be the glory, forever, amen!
Leslie Evans: A young lady my age, married a man with 3 children, 2 years after his wife/ their mother had died from Breast cancer. Shortly after getting married, they discovered they were pregnant, WITH twins. They were elated. But then she went into labor early, and the twins were born at about 21 weeks, and did not live. Shortly after giving birth, Leslie went into cardiac arrest. She was down for 17 minutes before they could revive. Leslie passed away October 7, 2010.
I have been following her blog, reading her story, watching videos of her life, and I cannot put into words the hurt in my chest. I've been praying for this family I don't know, and asking God to bring them peace. I don't understand why He allowed this man to lose 2 wives, and these children to lose 2 mom's. I don't understand why her body couldn't carry the babies full term, and why the water had to break early. I don't understand why these parents lost their daughter, and a brother lost his sister. And that's not even touching on the friends that lost, too. Honestly, I just can't make any sense of it. And I don't know her.
(A blog about her: http://lesliejoyevans.blogspot.com/) (Very worth starting at the beginning)
Lila: My co-worker, Cherie, has a 3 year old niece who went to the doctor on Monday for a cough, and was sent straight to Children's Healthcare for Leukemia. This little girl will start chemo tomorrow that will last for the next 2 years. And Lila's mom, who lost her own mother to cancer, has to watch her baby, lay in a bed, while chemicals fill her body in order to fight this nasty disease. Meanwhile, Lila's father also has a type of inoperable brain cancer, that will eventually take his life, although he doesn't have any effects/ problems with it now.
I've got to say, I just don't understand this either. As a mom, my insides scream upon hearing this story. When Cherie told me about this yesterday, I cried, and as I type about it today, I still cry. When it comes to Leukemia, she has the "good kind" but parents take their kids to the doctor for strep- not leukemia. And I can not imagine how powerless and helpless it must feel, to be a parent, watching something like this. Again, I don't understand.
Kate McRae: I have been following this little girl's story for over a year. Right before she was supposed to start kindergarden, Kate was diagnosed with brain cancer. They were able to remove a portion of the tumor, but due to location, couldn't get all of it. This little girl has been going through new treatments to try to beat this malignant cancer. Her parent's faith and prayers are edifying and real. You can hear hurt in her mother's typing, yet total reliance on God. Again, parents with no control, nothing they can do to change the situation, and at this point, they just wait to see if the treatment worked. They go back periodically for MRI's and other tests hoping to hear that the tumor hasn't grown, but expecting/ dreading the worst. All they can do is wait.
Her prayer blog: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/mcraekate
** These are by no means all the stories about stuff like this, I totally understand that-- these are just the ones on my heart and mind right now.
Stuff like this makes me just want to put my people in a bubble to protect them. It makes me want to use my time to write them love notes, and kiss them all over. I mean what if?
But chances are, this won't happen to us. And I'm pretty sure that trying to explain to God that I was too crippled by what might've happened to actually discipline my kids or train them, or too worried about what could've happened to love my neighbors and serve my husband, and too consumed with fear to spread the Good News, wouldn't be a good conversation to have with the Creator of the Universe, and a God that willingly gave his perfect son's life for my sin, so that I could spend eternity with Him.
I am not one to question God, and this is not to say that understand everything. I do NOT. But that is because He is God and I am not- and I don't have to understand everything- I just have to trust him. But if I'm honest, that's not always easy. I know He's BIG and I know He's LOVE and I know He's FORGIVING. So tonight, I just pray that have the courage to be the wife, mom, friend, co-worker, daughter, sister, etc that God has called me to be, and that I'll surrender control to the only ONE who deserves, God. Tonight I am casting other people's burdens on Him- to God be the glory, forever, amen!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
I’m A Cheater
I have many great things going for me—all of them are God things, not Lauren things. Check it out:
1. Chad- I have an incredible husband that is laid back, easy to get along with, very funny, quite nice to look at, and an incredible partner in crime.
2. I have my Max- a wonderful little bald bundle of blue eyes and giggles. He’s so much fun and he’s also so much work!
3. Gabe, my stepson, who brings his own perks and challenges. He’s filled with life, and ideas, and excitement.
4. I have a great job and an awesome boss that offers a place for me to do the things I’m good at, in an environment that I love, while allowing me the flexibility needed to be a wife and a mom.
5. We have an incredible small group that meets weekly to press God issues and marriage issues into our hearts and lives, so that we are constantly learning daily to reflect and glorify Him.
6. I have a boatload of wonderful, amazing friends, and a great (BIG) family that is very entertaining, encouraging, and loving.
7. I have a great little house that offers us comfort and warmth and shelter, and requires daily upkeep.
8. We go to a very well rounded church that allows many many different avenues to get plugged in and volunteer, and I get to hang out with 3rd graders weekly.
9. I have several different free lance writing opportunities that allow me to use my gifts and my creativity to teach children the word of God and ideally, make people laugh.
10. And I have a sweet, sweet Jesus who craves my time and who is so worthy of my praise, adoration, thoughts, and attention.
And without rubbing my blessed-ness in your face, I’ve got to tell you that this is just a very brief list of what I have going for me right now.
I grew up going to North Point church and heard a sermon series when I was younger by Andy Stanley called “Choosing to Cheat”. I have since read the book, and loved both of them. The idea is that someone/ something is always being cheated. For instance, if work is getting the majority of your time, your family isn’t, and vice versa. And this is where the guilt and my guilt comes into play.
My list is incredible- just writing it all out makes me heart swell. But it also makes me sweat and my blood pressure rise a bit too. I constantly feel guilty. Whichever aspect of my life I’m concentrating on at any given moment is full of joy and stress simultaneously. This is because I’m cheating. When I’m at work, I feel guilty that I’m not with Max. When I’m with Max, I feel guilty that I’m not working. When I’m spending a few quiet minutes alone in my car, I’m also feeling guilty for not using that time to catch up with friends and family. When I go to bed early to rest of for the next day’s adventures, I feel bad that I’m not hanging out in the living room with Chad. When my list of things to do is getting checked off early in the morning, I feel guilt for not spending that time with my Jesus. I could keep going on and on with such scenarios, but I’ll spare you.
So what gives?
I don’t know the answer. If you do, please feel free to comment.
But I have found a couple aspects of Truth that I can hang my hat on.
God gives me strength according to Psalms 41:10.
God promises that His spirit is upon me, all the time, in Isaiah 61:1-4.
God promises to answer my prayers in John 16:24.
God assures me deliverance in 1 Corinthians 10:13.
God promises me forgiveness in 1 John 1:9.
God offers me guidance in Proverbs 3:5-6
And thankfully, God promises me rest in Matthew 11:28-30.
I think the guilt comes with being a perfectionist, with being a mom, with being a control freak, and with living in my flesh. But I am a new creation, and have been washed in the blood of Jesus and saved by grace. So it is my prayer, and my goal, to put off the guilt and live in peace, founded on The Savior of the Universe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)