Here Comes the Sun

Whether it's literal or figurative, spring is a time for emerging from dark caves. I'm no polar bear, so I'd say I'm dealing more in the figurative sense. While this winter was a bit easier than the previous couple, it was still a bit of a dark time mentally. Everything is colored in shades of gray and that includes my mental attitude. So it really does feel like coming out into the world once more with spring's arrival. I can tell, too, that my senses have been just starved for spring: the riot of colors, scents, and sounds that the deadness of winter just doesn't allow. I can't wait for that first day when I notice the explosion of green on the trees.

We've been taking advantage of this a-maz-ing weather by getting outside as much as possible. Generally this means the boys go out in the backyard and roll around in the dirt. Several times a day. My bathtub's dirt-ring is approaching legendary status. There have also been visits to the park, walks to the library, ball-playing, ice-cream buying, and last week we made it to the Morton Arboretum (on discount Wednesday during everyone else's spring break week. MOBBED! But still fun). Next week Jeran has spring break from school which, sadly, won't amount to much since he goes to school in the afternoons and the other boys need to nap at that time. But it does mean we'll have lots of fun morning outings with no pressure to get him anywhere on time (not that "on time" is a phrase that usually describes our family anyway).

In other news: Jeran now owns his very own bike thanks to Papa and Nana's birthday gift.

Stop. Don't even think it. Oh my word - you just thought it! I know you did! Something along the lines of: Your FIVE-year-old is JUST getting a bike?????!!!! (This is roughly the same thing that JJ's doctor said at his five-year check-up a few weeks back. With slightly more tact and slightly less dramatics.) I really have no excuse for the fact that my child only now owns and is learning to ride a bike except that he's never expressed interest, so we never really pursued it. For some reason this summer we are all sorts of motivated to really be outdoors as a family and do some of these things (like bike-riding) that we haven't before. I know this has a lot to do with our kids getting older. It also has something to do with the whole physical fitness kick James and I find ourselves on lately. Something about being smack in the 30s is finally lighting a fire under our pathetically out-of-shape behinds. It has gotten really old to feel as sluggish as we often do, so we've started to slooooowly make some changes to our eating habits and activity levels (which, I should add, is really easy to do when you're starting from practically nil). One area of exercise we've found that we both enjoy is yoga. Not the whole sit-cross-legged-and-chant portion of the event, but the gaining-flexibility-and-strength area. James, especially, has had a lot of issues with his back since a major car accident several years ago, and he finds this helps decrease the pain he has. So we've gotten some yoga DVDs from the library in order to embarrass ourselves initially in the privacy of our own home. It has certainly been an exercise in hilarity.

I have also found myself compelled to RUN. Gulp. Yes, run. This is more in the "thinking about it with good intentions" stage, but it's there, nevertheless. I can think of only one other time in my life when I have wanted to run, and it had everything to do with a very motivated, energetic friend and mass quantities of extra time on my hands. So we'll see where these fitness aspirations actually lead.

In news of the friendship sort, a couple of weeks ago we had a visit from our close friends, Russ and Jess and their adorable offspring (two boys ages 3 and 1 - we love boys!). When I say close I do not mean geographically. Philly, PA stole them away from us about 6 years ago, but their newest address is in NY state. What I love most about these two is that EVERY single time we are together it's as if we saw one another just last week. It truly feels like no time has passed at all, and we pick up right where we left off: the laughter, the conversation both silly and deep, and the ability to just kick back and be completely 100% ourselves. Of course this means that every time we part ways again my sadness lingers a little longer. But I'm looking ahead to years of fun that our families will share, and it was great this time to watch our kids start getting to know one another, particularly as we've been sharing this journey of parenthood across the miles.

JUMPING on the air mattress is so much more fun than SLEEPING on it!

Grayson and Jude getting acquainted. HOW CUTE ARE THEY??

Who WOULDN'T bond over ice cream and Wii?

And now we've come to the best news of all: Easter is here, and I am officially reminded of what my Savior has done for me and what gives me cause for even greater joy than the sun that fills our days. And that is the love and mercy God pours out upon me, and the hope of an even brighter future.

"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Romans. 5:8

Hallelujah and Happy Easter!

No Bugs Here! No Pride Either!

Well nothing says embarrassment like the Terminix guy unexpectedly showing up for the quarterly "good riddance to bugs" visit and having the privilege of navigating around my underwear, dirty dishes, and general disarray. For the second time this year.

The Birthday Boy

Five years ago last Wednesday my little man entered the world. If you're at all interested in his birth story, you'll find it here. Here are a few photos of him throughout the years. Have I mentioned how crummy I am about taking pictures? They're not the best. Anyway, I love you, Jeran! I can't wait to see what the next year has in store for us!


First haircut right before birthday #2

Reality Check

Boy, there's nothing like a little journey through the blogosphere to get one's perspective back in shape. The other night I did just that. You know how it goes: you're on a friend's blog, and over to the right are other blogs they read, so you click on one, and then you find on that person's page another blog and so on and so forth. Through this labyrinth of strangers' personal lives I came across shattering examples of the fallenness of our world: a child lost to a tragic accident, babies born at 24 weeks and, a year later, still struggling to overcome the complications accompanying that, a woman widowed in her 20s, and the list could go on. Of course, there are many joyful occasions that people have blogged about out there too, but some of these more heart-wrenching stories have been sticking with me. At the risk of sounding insensitive, I just have to say in all honesty that it gave me a good dose of perspective. All of you people out there who are willing to share your stories, both pleasant and painful, help me to keep in check with reality: that life is one day at a time and at some point life will most certainly be on the more painful end of the spectrum, so these days that hold, overall, joy, should be cherished. And those things that seem so tough to me right now? Maybe handled with a little more grace and a little less whining on my blog. :)

Invisible Mom

I received this via email from one of the BEST moms (and friends) in my life, and it really moved me. I needed desperately this reminder that what I am doing has a far greater purpose than I can see now. I guess it kind of refocused me on what is important in my life - I don't have to "do it all" or be the put-together mom (which I am SO not, and that's for another post altogether). I CAN (and do) acknowledge that this job is harder than anything I have yet faced in my life and recognize that I need to love my kids with the love that God has already lavished on me.

Thank you, Steph, for sending this encouragement my way!!!



It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'
Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??
Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.' Some days I'm a crystal ball; 'Where's my other sock?, Where's my phone?, What's for dinner?'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!?
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England . She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: 'With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devoured - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof, No one will ever see it And the workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does.
No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, he’d say, 'You're gonna love it there...'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.
Great Job, MOM!
Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know... I just did.
The Will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you.
This is beautiful and makes a ton of sense.
To all the wonderful mothers out there!!

Not My Finest Moment

It's interesting what sheer willpower and downright cockiness can do to you. For example, it can lead you to believe that you can handle a trip to the grocery store. By yourself. With 3 children in tow. It all started out well enough. A sunny day, powdery new snow dusting the world, Dunkin Donuts in hand, the promise (bribe?) of one of those tv cart thingys for the boys once we reached the store. (The only problem with that being that Grayson won't fit, requiring him to be strapped onto my person with the Moby Wrap. This is an excellent invention. Except for reasons of which you will soon be told here.) JJ and Ben held hands as we traversed through the parking lot - tra la la.
It's astonishing even in retrospect how quickly things unraveled. JJ decided he was done holding hands and ditched his brother who was decidedly NOT finished holding hands. So Ben handled this situation as any two-year-old might. By stopping in the middle of the road and screaming at the top of his lungs. And then in his distraught state toppling right over onto the wet pavement (it's difficult to throw a tantrum with boots on). With Grayson dangling on my front, I attempted to pick up a flailing Ben. Enter passersby #1 and 2: "Oh boy. Kids." "Is he tired?" Gee - that was very scintillating and necessary commentary old folks. Thanks for that.
I managed to get us all into the store, though not before dropping Ben's already nasty blanket in the dirtiest mud puddle in the surrounding area and stepping on it. Jeran was scoping out the tv carts when I mentioned that we had to make our way to the service desk (all the way on the other end of the store of course) to change my quarters into a dollar. Commence hollering and fit-throwing. (Do you feel my blood pressure rising yet?) I dragged a stubborn, still-unhappy Ben toward the customer service desk with Jeran reluctantly (and loudly) following, then stopping and refusing to move further. Well. That was enough. The conditions of this cart thingy were that the boys were cooperating on this trip and that clearly was not happening. So I took a deep breath and announced we were no longer shopping with a tv.
Remember that scene in the second Lord of the Rings film when the ringwraith is flying around overhead on that half bat/half snake creature? Do you recall the ear-splitting sound made during that scene? (Did several of you stop reading just now to ponder how much of a dork I am that I'm in love with those movies?) Then you have heard the sound my almost-five-year-old was making as he threw himself to the ground, in the MIDDLE of the walkway, and began flailing about. It was really a surreal moment.
Enter passerby #3. Sweet older lady bending over trying to calmly talk to the tasmanian devil I sometimes know as Jeran. She kept asking me if I wanted her to try picking him up, and all I could wonder was what kind of death wish she had. I can't even imagine all the places his kicking feet would land before she dropped him or broke a bone. She persisted. I declined. With gritted teeth (and I think a bit of a snarl in there).
At this point in the story I am grappling with my twenty-some pound two-year-old (made 10 lbs heavier by all his winter paraphernalia) trying to hoist him into the cart. UNSUCCESSFULLY grappling and hoisting I might add. The cumbersome addition of my infant son on my front section was an obstacle not easily overcome. Now I was really losing it. I'm sure my face was an interesting shade of red, my hair wildly out of place. Various other passerby are smirking as they stand, staring, and I'm ready to give them a tongue lashing. Or one of my children. Take THAT!
The grotesque details of our immediate departure from the store I need not bore you with. Suffice it to say - I blew it. Who wouldn't? you might say.
But I - don't - want - to be - that - mom- anymore.
I'm far more humiliated by how I behaved (without a single ounce of grace) than by how my children did. Who did all those people see today as they watched this situation unfold? Not Jesus, that's for sure. Jesus would not have said to his child, "I'm so embarrassed by you." He wouldn't have literally thrown his children into a shopping cart or barked at people who were only trying their darndest to be helpful. He wouldn't have been screaming at his son in the parking lot to get in the car and get his seat belt on.
The only redeeming parts of this whole experience are that a)I stuck to my guns and b) I received a hearty dose of humility along with a reminder that I cannot CANNOT do this job in my own strength.
And now here I sit. No motivation. No pride. No groceries.

Let's Do Some Math

Fighting kids + trashed house + attempting to cook + finding an unsupervised infant with a penny and Legos about to lodge in his throat + flooded laundry room + futile job hunt + absent hubby for the evening = sanity hanging by a rapidly fraying thread

Tomorrow's lesson: multitasking - sleep = disaster