The Space in Between

It's endearing, right? The way I'm confident I'll blog weekly and how I always say to check back regularly and then months go by. The summer has been wild, y'all. We've squeezed a whole lot of living into the hours of the day and on into the night. Catching you up would be a laundry list of trails we've hiked, afternoons we've struggled through, swimming pools we've frequented, and much more. Tonight, though, I've settled into our newly constructed office with a glass of wine and a large piece of chocolate cake (because my husband is amazing and thought of me at his business dinner tonight) to write something else. I had an epiphany tonight. I have honestly been in a sour mood today. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I was annoyed. I decided that we should have a little fun this evening since Daddy would be working late and we had been home all afternoon with a sleeping, sick baby. I got everyone dressed which is a feat in itself and started loading up the car, buckling in the loves of my life. One of them, whose name shall not be mentioned, grabbed the handle and hung on it like a primate and in doing so broke the handle completely off it's hinges. There it was, dangling there. Standing between me and an evening of ice cream with my kids in hopes of pacifying them just a little bit longer. In hopes of snapping that picture perfect shot of my lot in front of my hometown ice cream shop. In hopes of pretending for just a little bit longer that I am supermom. Dream shattered, y'all. Obliterated. It's silly how incredibly often I have to take a humility pill and a reality pill. I'm reminded over and over in raising my four young children that I'm called to truth. Nothing more, nothing less. At the church we attend, we heard a lot about humility on Sunday. Bear with one another in love, stop measuring, count others as more significant than you, have self sacrificing love. Still, I need these reminders every day. 

I wish I could say I calmly told my son that it was okay and accidents happen. Instead, I angrily said we couldn't go anywhere now. I nagged him by saying, "This is why I tell you not to do that!Why don't you listen to me?" I'm reminded of me, too. Doesn't my Heavenly Father not treat me as my sins deserve? He lets natural consequences arise (my own conviction for being wrong) instead of yelling at me about how I disappointed Him (again). So many times my perspective needs to be adjusted and today was one of those times. Here comes the epiphany... Why am I assigning blame to Satan when I'm presented with difficult obstacles? For example, when I deliberately wake up early so that I can have a steaming cup of coffee in silence and study God's Word and my kids decide they'll get up early as well- Why do I say or think that Satan is trying to get me down? What if I instead looked at that situation as an opportunity for ministry? What if I looked at it as a test from God? How much would my day-to-day change? The truth is that I am human. I try diligently to brush everyones teeth, have them memorize scripture, and not raise my voice but folks, that doesn't always happen. But what I can do in those moments-like the moment of the car handle incident- is show them grace. I can say that this isn't Satan trying to get me down, but God trying to build me up to be a better mom and person. I could let them join in on my bible study. I could lovingly correct their behavior. And, like I had to do earlier, I can get down on their level and admit I was wrong in my reaction and ask them to forgive me. And they do. God love them. Difficult days come and they go. The older I get, the more I'm convinced that I'm to share that truth. Some days are the terrible, awful we learned about in The Help....and some days are perfect gifts from above...and some days are just that awkward space in between. Life happens in those days, though. The kids get a bit older, your hair grows a little longer, and you find yourself having to buy toilet paper again. In those mundane days, we still have a beautiful chance to minister. During breakfast, during diaper changes, during orange juice all over the floor--that's when we can show them Jesus.

"Therefore as you have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in Him having been firmly rooted and now being built up in Him and established in your faith, just as you were instructed and overflowing with gratitude." Colossians 2:6-7

How I Do It

There are countless posts that go un-published here. Most seemed too complainy and others were too dark. You know, there's so much you don't see behind the scenes of our lives and I hope I'm not alone in that. I try to be transparent, to let the copious amounts of people who say, "I don't know how you do it" in on the fact that I'm far from perfect. I struggle emotionally, spiritually, and with just about every facet of parenting. Every day I'm reminded how unbelievably hard it is to be a parent in todays world. There's a spotlight on all the time that flashes toward me when I send the kids outside to play to grow up as we did or our parents did, away from computer screens. They're in the mud, they're running through the tall grass where snakes could be. They're creating their own games and probably being a little mean to one another, too. Then the spot lights whips around to the other side of the spectrum, the helicopter part of many mothers. People criticize when you are three steps away from your kid on the playground, ready to catch any possible fall. They wonder why you want to get involved when they butt heads with a kid at school. It's a catch twenty two. No one is ever doing it right. 

If the stress of trying to measure up with the world isn't enough, imagine how much I dwell on desiring to please an Almighty God while battling the sin that is in my nature. I see the actions of my kids and feel as if it is a direct reflection of me, of our family. This weight is heavy, y'all. If there's one thing I know I'm doing as a stay-at-home mom, it's that I'm daily showing my children my own desperate need for Jesus. They see me in the Word and they see me failing. They hear me asking for forgiveness when I lose my temper with them and they hear it again when we're praying. I screw up all the time. Just as Paul said in Romans 7:15 "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." I want to be a certain type of mother- a pinterest creative type who schools her children happily and inspires in them the desire to be outside, work with their hands, and get to know God. The mother I want to be has her children memorizing verses of the Bible, hiding God's word in their hearts from an early age. She does this all while juggling appointments, hearing equipment, and unending patience with her special needs son. She also manages the house and welcomes her hard working husband home with open arms and serves him readily, too. Does this woman exist? I don't know. Maybe I don't want to know. 

I just want to be holy and blameless before God at the end of this life. I want my kids to grow up to be decent human beings and to become disciples and fishers of men. That's why I'm here. I don't want to fail at this. And every single day I go to bed feeling like I am. That's why this is hard. The rocking multiple little ones, wiping noses and bottoms, preparing food that noses are turned up at, washing a million items of clothing a week, cleaning spit up off the floors hourly, and all the other things you couldn't dream up that my children could get into- those are challenging. But when I step back and look at the whole picture, I realize that none of that matters if my kids don't grow up and decide to follow Jesus. If they don't know him, it doesn't matter that their butt had a $15 diaper on it. It doesn't matter if I grow all their food from the ground in our backyard. It won't make a difference if they were potty trained at two or ten. If we don't have Him, we have nothing.

So this is how I do it. It's one day at a time. One hour at a time. Trial and error. Lot of prayers. Forgiveness. Perseverance. Grace. 

I'm really hoping I'm not alone in this....and if I am, well, maybe just keep that to yourself.

A day in the life

Because why wouldn't you wake up bright and early, go find the hot sauce and empty over half of it into a glass of sparkling water and on your little brother? I mean why not? It's like this every day, every hour that I'm with my dear second born. I think he is the reason I feel stretched to my limit every single day. And sometimes it just all gets to me. Yesterday was that day. I have to have one of those every once in awhile I guess. I'm sitting here with my second cup of coffee and despite the laundry and dishes piling up, I feel the need to write. My blog has become a place for Abel updates when I used to talk about our latest adventures all over the country. I know it's not exciting but it keeps my sanity and provides a record when my brain is foggy and I feel like he isn't progressing at all. Thank you to those of you who still check in with us despite my lack of exciting updates.
I tried to be in a good mood yesterday. I woke up and read my bible and the promises of to whom I belong. I was feeling humbled and good. I went to get dressed and ended up spending an embarrassingly long time trying to get ready, all with four children vying for my attention. It took so long because I was feeling really down about my postpartum body. My old clothes don't fit and my pregnancy ones don't either. With everything going on around me, I just wanted to feel confident in my appearance but everything I put on whispered that I was just another mom who has let herself go. One who hardly gets to shower because she's so focused on her little ones. One who doesn't know what an acceptable price is for mascara because who has time to buy/apply it anyway? One who doesn't have a life outside of her 24/7 job of raising kids. One who isn't so good at raising kids anyway. I mean, why is it so difficult to potty train a three (nearing four) year old? Why is it that the same child thought it was okay to bite his friend at school over a toy the day before? He's three. He should not be biting...or pooping himself...or struggling with speaking phrases. He should be speaking in sentences.
Obviously, my thoughts aren't entirely sensible right now but they carry much truth, too. I'm exhausted by his disability. I feel really alone. I don't know anyone who is in my position- caring for a bunch of small children, one of which has a cochlear implant and is still significantly behind his peers in language, communication, behavior, and motor skills. In a few months, we'll be celebrating his two year hearing birthday and while he has definitely made progress, his cochlear implant peers are leaps and bounds ahead of him. I see it twice weekly. When he goes to group therapy, there's a room beside his with a window and speaker that I can watch the session from. As I walk him in, I greet his peers with a "Hi! How are you today?" and you know what? They respond. "I'm good." They don't have to be told to say it. They know what I'm asking. Abel still stares blankly when he is asked questions by most people. It makes me want to cry because I'm doing everything I can do for him and I just feel tapped out.
I'm not writing for pity. I certainly don't need that. I have a beautiful, healthy, spunky boy who is very loving to his mama. He is the first one to require a hug, stroke my hair and pull my cheek to his lips for a kiss. I'm his person and I love him more than I could ever say...but caring for him day in and day out is physical and mentally draining me. I want to be better for him, but I feel like my hands are tied.
Yesterday as I was battling these thoughts, I was also on my way to therapy. I got in the car to find my gas light on and my tire pressure light lit up. I drove to the nearest gas station despite having no time built into my schedule to do that. I pulled up to fill the tank and my card was declined twice so I picked another card and made a mental note to find out why. As I was getting gas, I found a dollar for the air machine (Score!) but I knew I needed quarters. I began asking the folks around me for change but no one had enough quarters. They said I could just have the ones they did have but I didn't want to do that so I began unloading the kids so I could go inside the gas station to get the change I needed. Finally, with fifteen minutes before I had to be at his first appointment in Knoxville, I pulled up to the air machine and guess what? They had changed it from $1.00 to $1.50 because of course they did. I drove to OT with a deflating tire and a deflating positive outlook.
By the way, the reason my card was declined was because someone stole my info and bought $720 worth of school supplies. Which is so poetic, right? Someone with 85 kids apparently is sending them  all away on my dime. The stay-at-home mom who can't wait to usher her brood of kids into the hands of more capable teachers than herself. Ha! What a freakin' day.

the one where I get testy about stay-at-home moms and their time

Happy Saturday morning to ya. I sat down at the computer with shooting pain going up into my back because I've seen every single Alvin and the Chipmunks episode there's to see and instead of trying to relax on the couch with a squirmy three year old--the one that's always awake--I'm here. Guzzling coffee and ignoring the pain in my back as best I can. April is going to be a difficult month here. I'll be solo parenting for most of it. Earlier this week there was a light that made me hopeful. I met and interviewed a potential babysitter. I hate relying on other people, especially with something so precious! When I posted the job on care.com I even wrote to "please not apply if you aren't interested in becoming a part of their lives". I think that's pretty clear, straight-forward- don't you? Well, after speaking with this girl and doing some background checks, I reluctantly hired her. I always feel this way after asking someone new to watch the kids. I thought it would be easier when we moved home because I thought everyone around here would know the person or know someone who does and have some extra info to set my mind at ease. The trouble is, I need sitters during the day for the other two while I run Abel to therapy and everything else under the sun. Everyone already has a job or school at the times when I need someone. So, I hired her because she appeared to be bending over backward for me, rearranging her work schedule so she could definitely be available three days a week. She even said, "I think in life it's most important to connect with people. I'm here to help mothers out. I want a large family and I hope someone will do the same for me when the time comes." Alright, gal. Let's see what you've got. She even came with a calendar and wanted me to schedule times with her in advance. When I came home, the kids were happy and fed and the house was cleaner than I left it. Score! I talked to her about the extra therapy that Abe might be starting and she said she had a job interview in Knoxville (making that her 3rd job!) at that time, but that she would be happy to reschedule to accommodate me. Within five minutes of leaving, she had supposedly called and rescheduled the job interview. "See you Tuesday!" she happily texted. Then yesterday she texted me telling me she got a job in a different state and could no longer work for me. Sayonara. 

I guess I'm bothered by it mostly because my time is important, too. In the four years that I've been a stay-at-home mom, I've noticed a recurring theme that many people demonstrate to me over and over. My time is not as important as theirs. When we lived in Louisiana, my neighbor put my name down on her kids' school contact list (without asking me) and would have me running all kinds of crazy errands for her. Her house was one of those you'd see on Hoarders, no joke. One day, she asked me to break in which consisted of pushing the door open until the trash can fell over ("don't worry, just leave it") and entering to rummage through her kitchen to find her son's medicine and take it to him at school. SURE BECAUSE MY TIME ISN'T IMPORTANT. Another time, she wanted me to take her daughter some new clothes to school so obviously I thought that was pretty important so I rushed over there expecting to find a young girl who started her period unexpectedly or got in trouble for wearing shorts too short, or something else big. Nope. She just changed her mind about what she wanted to wear that day. You think I'm joking, but this sort of thing happens all the time to stay-at-home moms. Ask so and so, she doesn't have a job! So when I lovingly crafted a job posting online, set up a time to interview, and hired someone indefinitely, I expected that to be it. Now it just feels like a huge waste of time. You know what I could have been doing during that time? Finally showering after days. Stuffing my face with chocolate ice cream. Working on the laundry. Cleaning the kitchen. Enjoying a double nap time that is just so rare. Calling the insurance company to figure out the hospital bills past and upcoming. Calling the company that we order Abel's bionic ear from because the cord and headpiece broke for the millionth time. Just because I'm not paid for what I do every day, doesn't mean the schedule we've created here isn't important to the functioning of this house. It doesn't mean that it's not important to me! Time is super precious to a stay-at-home mom. I'm going to have very little of it this month and that's what is on my mind when you tell me I've wasted my time by hiring you. God has called me to be here with four children that aren't yet in kindergarten. I'm to be pouring myself into them, guiding them into a budding relationship with Him. My role is to create a happy home here that demonstrates God's love. It's important. ..and hard....and time consuming. As a society, can we stop telling mothers it isn't? I'm a servant to Him by serving them and finding caregivers that reflect the importance of that. 

So what did I say to her? " Congrats on the new job!" Obviously, it wasn't meant to be. Then I resisted the urge to also say April Fools at the end of the text. ;) 

"Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain." -Psalm 127:1

One, Two, Three, Four

I had my life together with two kids, as much as one can. When I had Kinley, my life was thrown upside down. He asserted his big personality from birth. I remember being in the hospital with my screaming newborn unable to calm him and a kind nurse came in to relieve me. They didn't even have a nursery at that hospital, but she offered to take him so I could rest. That's how long he screamed. Then, when we got home it was no different. That first night, my sister ended up sleeping with him on the couch because no one else could get him to calm down. Yes, his personality was fierce. He wanted something, wasn't always all-together sure what it was, but he wanted it now. He continued to assert his opinion when his brother arrived fifteen months later. He was not a fan of Abel, this new squirmy baby who took his time away from mom. He is determined, spirited, and often challenging, but I know these traits will serve him well in life. Even though I had two under two, I took control of my health, went back to grad school, spent time in the Word, and truly started believing in myself as a mother.

Then I got pregnant with Merit. They say that going from two to three is harder than one to two and I agree with that, for sure. I continued to, for the most part, hold on to the things that were most important to me while I grew baby number three in my body. Despite Abe's diagnosis during this time, I was doing okay. Then, Merit graced us with his presence and he was the easiest, sweetest baby. He was only twenty months younger than Abel which meant I had, briefly, three children under the age of three. I cried a lot looking at my kids. I couldn't believe they were entrusted to me, someone who deep down felt as if she wasn't capable. The year has gone by quickly and I'm finally (finally) at a point where Kinley and Abel are becoming friends. Everyone told me they would be close, but I questioned it. But with age comes another stage, right? Now the tables have turned again and Abel and Merit are the ones who constantly compete for attention and fight over Mama. It's incredibly exhausting. When one graduates out of a stage, I always have another one coming into the same one. That's what's hard about my job. The endlessness of it. All through the day, all through the night if they decide not to sleep well. I go through my day just trying to make it through instead of living, being productive, or anything else. This has been a big year for me that I shouldn't discount. I did that little facebook analysis the other day to see what my most popular photos and posts were and it turned out to be quite a good recap of the year:
1. I obtained my Master's in Marriage and Family Therapy (and I did it while mothering three young children!).

2. Abel was released from the surgeon's care after over a year post op!

3. And, of course, we found out we'd be adding to the madness!

I write this so I can focus on me for a few minutes, to realize I still have more to offer than being around for my children. I'm capable of a lot. I've learned that over these last four crazy years. I still have me. I'm not totally gone, although it feels that way more often than not. In 2016, I'm going to try to remember that as best I can. I have some of my writing being published this upcoming Spring. Then by Summer, we'll be welcoming Baby #4. There ARE good things coming.

One kid felt hard. Two felt like a breeze. Three kids=challenging. Do you see the pattern? I think four is our lucky even number. You let me have that hope, ok? ;)

The Lord is good to all {an update of Abel's Ears}

The bible verse I've been working on helping Kinley to learn this week is Psalm 145:9-

"The Lord is good to all..." 

The way I get a three year old to memorize scripture is repetition. Over and over, we both recite it. The Lord is good to all. The Lord is good to all. The Lord is good to all. Even to me when I don't deserve it. Even to my family. Even to my sweet middle child. Even when it doesn't feel like it. The Lord is good to all.

I'm glad I had that truth fresh in my heart and mind. Yesterday, I had an appointment at Vandy again as a follow up for Abel. Infections, hospitalizations, and trouble just weren't on my mind. I was having faith and truly believing he would be released. Finally. After ten months.

Instead, after ten months of struggling with this aggressive infection, the surgeon has decided to take his implant out. Obviously, this is nightmare scenario in the cochlear implant community. As he told me the news, doctors gathered in the room with somber faces expecting to console, I suppose. I held it together. Inside my heart, it feels like a devastating blow, though. How silly it is to mourn a foreign object placed into my child's head! It isn't even working. Why should it matter? It's just the point of it all. Another surgery is on the horizon. My child has been put under more times than all of my extended family members put together. More than I can count on two hands. I've gotten to know the back of his precious little head as I strap him into the small umbrella stroller and push him from appointment to appointment. I know his curly tendrils and how they curve around the cords and headpieces he wears daily to help him hear. His head has two "ears" not one. Still, soon he will go under anesthesia again and his right cochlear implant will be removed along with his adenoids and (Lord willing) this nasty infection.

A thousand thoughts go through my mind every day. I wish we had never put it in. I'm so glad we had this surgery. I need more chocolate. Et cetera. I never quite considered how I would feel with this news. The answer is sad, but focused on the future. It's a setback, for sure. The surgeon says the infection seems to be nestled in the internal piece of equipment. He is hoping the nerve is not damaged so that once this infection is history, he can re-implant making him bi-lateral again. I don't even want to think about that right now.

I appreciate your prayers for him. Despite this ever-present problem, he is doing well. His left "ear" is working great allowing him to pick up much language. Lately, I've noticed him stringing words together into phrases. "What's that? Who is that? I don't know. Brother, no!" You know, the basics ;) Receptively, he's a rockstar. He knows what I'm requesting most of the time. His language is coming and I hope it continues to do so. On top of everything else, his early intervention program stopped paying for his speech therapy. We have begun to appeal to insurance in hopes they will start footing the bill as it is roughly $250 a week. A lot has been going on. For those of you who donated or bought items helping with "Abel to Hear", I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Because of the excess money we raised, I had enough for two aqua ears instead of one. This possibility was on the horizon so I only purchased one aqua capability. The rest of the money I put towards his hospital bills. Please know how much that meant to us. Thank you. It's because of people like you that I can see God's hand in all of this. Thank you for supporting us, for giving, for sharing in our excitement and setbacks, and for praying for my baby.

The Lord is good to all.

More Rain

I hate that this blog has become my dumping place for all the lowly emotions. We have happy times. Lots of them. I'm just too busy savoring the good to make a point to write during them. There have been highs and lows since I last wrote. To catch you up (in case we're not facebook friends), Abel was discovered to have a bacteria growing inside his middle ear and around his cochlear implants. Oral antibiotics were not touching it so they admitted him to clean out his ear and put him on IV antibiotics for awhile in the hospital. The surgery was nearly five hours long, but the surgeon came out smiling saying he thought he got it all and was able to salvage the implant. We continued to get good news after we were released from the hospital early thanks to Infectious Disease (ID) who said the infection appeared to be gone. They cultured from every angle and nothing was growing on the results.

This morning I was planning to get the boys out and do something fun. They all deserve a little fun. My phone rang and my heart dropped as I saw the 615 area code. Always bad news from Nashville, it seems. On the other line, the surgeon told me an update. They found two bacteria growing now which means more medicine. I truly thought, prayed, and believed that this was behind us and it's not. It's so upsetting. I wish I could take it from him. I'd gladly take disgusting medicine several times a day, spend much of my life in the car or at some office, and have my head operated on more times than I have fingers if it meant that I could shield him from it. I just feel so helpless in all of this. I've followed medical advice. I've followed spiritual advice. I can't do anything to help him.

When it rains, it pours. The rain just keeps coming. It's soaking my boys, me, and my marriage. I am so tired. This brief period of a few days was an umbrella shielding us from the cold and wet of the storm, but that's gone now, too and I'm left standing alone in the rain again. I know God is with me, with us. But that doesn't change the fact that I just want all the rain to stop.