Live to Die another Day ...

 Some days being a parent feels a lot like living in a zoo!  Only the kind of zoo where they allow all the animals to roam free and destroy things and you have NO actual formal training as to how to run a zoo, or keep everyone from killing each other!  

Because of the lack of formal training, we are left at times to simply make it up as we go along.  The problem I have found with making it up as you go along, is that sometimes you get yourself into a situation where the animals turn on you, and then our natural fight or flight mode in our bodies is forced to take over.

I have a dear friend, who is a wonderful counselor, and she often asks me when venting about things: "Is this the hill you want to die on?"  

So, it's something I have come to start asking myself a lot!  

For example when the kids turned 4, one day I had the brilliant idea to go get extender bars for their closets, so now all of their clothes hang at their eye level and they can put them away (in theory) and take them down on their own.  

 The thing is that 4 year-olds have little concern for paying attention to things like outfits, or matching, or appropriate clothing for the current weather.  So daily it is a struggle for me to bite my tongue and not force them to go re-dress, after they come out of their rooms.   

What I have come to realize is that the issue is not their ability (or lack-there-of) to create a sensible, matching outfit for the day, but my own selfish need to present not only myself, but them, to the world in a certain way.   

After months (and I’m not exaggerating) of being SO annoyed each time they dressed themselves, I have decided daily to remind myself this: Their self-esteem and their self-confidence matters WAY more than if their clothes match!!! 

A brown shirt, with navy pants and black shoes, tells the world, and more importantly them, that they have a Mommy who believes in them, no matter if we look “put-together” or not.  

 Really when I think about it, it’s probably better this way. Because there are very, VERY few days when we are put together AT ALL, so having our outsides, match are our insides is probably a much better way of being in the world ... much more honest anyway.   

Secretly, I am still trying to find ways to help them learn HOW to match, so that maybe one day they will at least have the ability to do it, if they so choose to try! 

For now though, I have decided that "Matching Clothes" is just is not the hill I want to die on.

~

However, it its place Brian and I found another equally annoying hill I like to call: "Putting Away Your Toys". 

We promptly marched ourselves up to the top of it, planted our flag and prepared for battle! 

Here is the battle I daily have in front of me ...

For those of you without kids, my guess is you are wondering 2 things: do kids really make that big of a mess and how long does it take for them to do that? 

The answer is EVERYDAY and it only takes about 1 afternoon of good solid playtime to accomplish this level of destruction!

I have tried the: "You can only take 1 toy out at a time" rule, which does work ... if you have time to watch them like a hawk!  

Heaven forbid you try to accomplish something in your day, like a load of laundry, or unloading the dishwasher or going to the bathroom by yourself  .......  TA DA ... CHAOS!

The problem is that even though we knowingly climbed up this hill for the battle, now we are dying!  I mean really DYYYYIIIINNNNGGG! 


It's a slow, horrible, painful battle every day to get them to clean up their mess!  The battle usually takes on some version of this:

Me: Go clean up the mess you made in the loft.

Child 1: (with attitude, to Child 2) You have to clean up YOUR toys and I will clean up MINE! 

 Child 2: (already angry) I ALREADY KNOW THAT!

Me: Both of you just worry about yourselves and go clean up.

... a few minutes pass...

 ... someone starts screaming ...

Child 2: (crying) Moooooom! She hit me!

Me: Why?

 Child 2: Because I wasn't cleaning up the toys. (At least they are honest!)

Child 1: (yelling from upstairs) He's not cleaning up, he's playing and it's not fair! I am doing it all myself!!!

Me: Have a seat in time out, you are not allowed to hurt each other, even if you're angry.

... time out for 5 minutes ...

Me: Please just be responsible for YOURSELF and go pick up your toys. I am setting the timer for 15 minutes, at the end whatever is left I am going to put into time out.

Both of them run to put away their toys...

... a few minutes pass...

... someone starts crying ....


... and ON and ON and ONNNN it goes ...

See what I mean ... DYYYIIINNNGGG!!!!!!!

So, today I talked with Brian when he came home and we decided to wave our white flag in surrender!  They have us cornered and today we are choosing flight rather than fight and are climbing down off the hill.  Because truthfully I don't want to die on this hill and their is a real possibility I might, if I have to fight for even one more day.

We sat them down to let them know that from now on the loft an their rooms are theirs to use as they like. Their toys are THEIR responsibility. This revelation was met with enormous smiles by both of them!  I'm not sure yet if that should make us feel relieved or REALLY scared.

It is, at it's core, a grand experiment in reverse -psychology and we are going to PRAY that one day the mess they make will annoy them enough that they will decide to pick it up all on their own ...

I will keep you posted, if that day EVER comes ...

If not, at least we will live to die another day!

FOR LOVE!

I have been meaning to write for a while now but ... life has been a bit chaotic around here. 

For the most part we are keeping our heads above the water and I finally found a few free movements, so ....

Many people have been asking and checking in about Brian, so I feel like I should let you know how he is doing first.  He finished his first 4 treatments just before Micah was born, which was wonderful timing for all of us! Thank you Jesus for that!

  The antibody drug they are using to treat the cancer has NO side effects, so other than going and sitting in a chair with an IV for 6 hours and waiting for it to all get into his body, it really has felt like a non-event.  

I don't say that lightly, because we know that this drug is a gift and a miracle, that if it works can keep his cancer suppressed in his body for years and give us time; but compared to the other life events going on at the moment, it really has been in the background of our everyday life.  

 He went in for another treatment a few weeks ago.  In a month or so they will do another scan to determine how effective the drug is on the size of his lymph nodes and determine if this is "working" or not.  The good thing is, the nodes he was able to feel in his neck (which made him go into the Dr. this time to get checked) he can't feel anymore!  So we are hopeful that means ALL of the lymph nodes are shrinking and the cancer is being suppressed for the time being. 

Thank you for all of your prayer and support, it has been amazing to feel the hand of God reach out to us, through the people who love Him! I will write and update about the results of his scan once he gets them back.

The bigger event is the new little life we welcomed into our home in March!  For those of you who have never done it, adjusting to a newborn for the first few weeks, is a little like daily flipping your whole life upside down, and then frantically trying to put it back together.  All while severely sleep deprived, incredibly sore, and trying to come down off of the hormone high you have been on for the last nine months! ... Fun!

I think in my head I thought that because we had done it before, and because we had twins, this would be "No big deal" and we would adjust right back into our routine.  

That was a silly thought!

Sleep deprivation with one, or two or ten is just plain brutal, and unlike last time where they stayed in the NICU for seven weeks while I recovered ... this time we came home with a very sweet, but very needy baby who I actually pushed out of my body only days before.  The thought of that may be a little much for some of you, but I am still a little in awe of what I did, because it literally was THE single hardest thing I have ever done in my life! 

I heave heard this comment made a lot when it comes to childbirth: "There are no awards or metals handed out to the person who does it the best."  The idea behind the statement is that there is no right or wrong way to have a baby, which I completely agree with!  The truth is, there is no award ceremony and you don't receive a metal or a trophy upon leaving the hospital, for courage or valor or bravery ... but YOU SHOULD!  

I have been thinking about this a lot lately and I have decided this:

I think that being pregnant, growing a life inside of you, carrying out the process for a full 40 weeks (or less as sometimes the case may be), planned or unplanned, means willingly giving up your body... for LOVE.  

It means, because I already loved my child more than myself, I allowed my body to stretch and to grow.  All my internal organs were compressed into whatever area of my body they could fit into.  I spent weeks feeling breathless as Micah's body took over the space where my lungs once operated without hindrance.  My bladder was compressed by my growing uterus until the point I think I could only tolerate about one sip of water at a time.  My body retained water, which meant my hands and face, my ankles and feet and legs were puffy and swollen and painfully uncomfortable.  

For nine months, my body was not mine, it didn't belong to me.  It belonged to Micah!  It was HIS, to use whatever resources needed for him to grow and thrive and ultimately have life!  

For a short time, we were one, and he was every bit as much a part of me as the heart that beats in my chest and kept us both alive.

 

And then after weeks of contractions ... it was time for him to come!

I labored by myself for hours until I couldn't stand the pain.  I fought my own fear down, as I breathed through what felt like 10 contractions, until they had my epidural in place.   I smiled and laughed with excitement with my Mom and Brian and Corrie, until the pitocin kicked in and hard labor took over.  I pushed for almost 2 hours with an epidural that didn't work, until I was pretty sure I was either going to die, or I wanted to.  And then they laid this PERFECT, beautiful baby up on my chest and I realized what every mom, everywhere, realizes:

IT WAS ALL WORTH IT!  

A few months before I had Micah, I had the wonderful privilege to stand at the door of a hospital delivery room when my nephew was born.  By allowing all of us to listen in, my sister-in-law gave us the gift of hearing both the last terrifying movements of her labor of love (without any drugs - YIKES!) and his first stunningly beautiful squeaky little cries!   

The gift of hearing his cries speaks for itself, but I say listening to her labor was a gift for this reason: After all was said and done; baby was born, she was all put back together (as much as you can be right after having a baby), the Doctor came out of the room and this was his one comment: 

"She is a very brave woman."  

To be witness to that kind of bravery in life is rare. To see (or hear) someone literally lay their own life on the line for another, for love ... it was a gift that I will cherish my whole life. And then a few short months later I did it again myself, and I am so very proud of myself and so humbly thankful to God  for getting me through it!

Motherhood, in whatever shape and form it comes is an act of bravery and courage and sacrifice: ALL for for LOVE!  Some Mom's will carry and grow a baby in their body for nine months, while others wait and pray unceasingly over adoption paperwork. Some moms labor for hours or days, some with drugs, some without.  Each pulling from every bit of strength they have to push for minutes or hours, or fight their own fears down as they trust a Doctor to use a vacuum, or forceps, or preform a major surgery while they are AWAKE! There are some Mom's who do all of that, knowing full well that the baby they are sacrificing for will never come home with them, either because their precious life will be cut short, or because they made the difficult choice to let their baby go into the arms of another mom; who is silently laboring in prayer for a child they already desperately love.

 As I thought about it this year, I realized that Mother's Day might just be the single most important day of the year (at least for me).  Beacuse, it IS the award ceremony for first GIVING them life and then for yet another year of KEEPING them alive!  

My first year as a Mom, my sweet husband gave me a set of pearls for Mother's Day and whenever I wear them I feel like I am wearing my purple heart for the day!  Not because I am in love with jewelry, (if you know me at all you know I rarely wear it), but because they were given to me on Mother's Day, they feel like a badge of honor for my bravery and courage to daily take on the hardest job I have ever done. They are my reminder that although I will never again look good in a bikini because my body will never, ever be the same; my heart never will be either.

That makes every sleepless night, every poopy diaper, every snotty attitude and rolled eye worth it.  Because when I look at the three little miracles that God allowed me to bring into this world,  I realize that they are a gift! A gift sent by God to teach me that life isn't actually about looking good in a bikini ... it's about what Christ showed us on the cross, when he willingly gave up His body and sacrificed everything for LOVE!



I want to say a HUGE Thank You to my dear friend Corrie who gave us the precious gift of capturing this process in such a deeply beautiful way!  You are a wonderful photographer and an even better friend, thank you for sharing this with me!!! You all need to check her out, she is amazing!
http://www.clb-photography.com/