Saying goodbye to another year...

It's that time of year again.  The time when our family does a little reflection; thinking back on the blessings of the year, the highs, the lows, the concerns and wishes, the dreams and heartbreaks~~and in all those ups and downs~~the manifestation of God's plan, will, and grace is made very clear to us in all of our lives.  Praise God!  When we were going through THAT specific hardship, what we couldn't see was that God had THIS in store for our family.  So amazing!  He knows what's best for us and we are so glad he's steering this Mitchell family's ship!!!
The boys, very sadly, help me take down the Christmas tree (I have been prepping Griff for this moment for the past few days as he seems to think we should keep it up all year, "but it's so boooootiful, Momma!", and we do a little cleaning and baking for our annual New Year's get together with friends in Carlisle.  Griff is adamant that we need to make reindeer cookies again and is very excited to play with all of his friends (one little girl in particular ;)).  Max is starting to feel better after a brief visit from a stomach bug yesterday and is in his room quietly reading.  My husband is still snoring away after staying up very late to watch his Hawkeyes lose their bowl game.  He may be a bit grouchy today.  I'm nursing a cold that began with an allergy and an asthma attack and having to use my inhaler a bit more than I'd like, but so thankful to have medication that opens my lungs and allows me to breathe.  It's those little things :).  That's our morning, on the last morning of this year.  So much to be thankful for, so many friends to continue to pray for, and a heart full of joy at the amazing fruition of all of God's mercies.
And the boys and I begin to talk about New Year's resolutions (G, "What's dat, Momma?  Yike  sumpin' aucky or sumpin' dood?").  A brand new year, clean, fresh, and full of possibilities.  The possibility of change, doing things different, trying harder, vowing to be better at this, that or the other thing.  The boys have said they will try harder to be kinder and more patient with each other.  Max will do a better job of tolerating Griffyn's button pushing and Griffyn will try harder not to push those buttons (especially that BIG, all too easy germ button ;)).  Max will do a better job of sharing and Griffyn will do a better job of not breaking Max's things.  We will continue to be diligent in our nightly prayers and to think of others.  That should keep them busy for the year ;).
Mine always involve something along the lines of eating better/healthier and exercising more diligently.  As I get older, it has become much harder to get up at 4 a.m. ;).  I also want to be more mindfully involved in the word and to always give and serve with a joyful heart and to trust, trust and TRUST God more with everything!  I have started a Bible verse and prayer journal to make myself think a bit harder, and not just read over words as part of my nightly routine (as by the end of the day, any brain cells I started with are about gone).  Marty's will most likely be (as he is still sleeping) to make it to more Iowa games ;).
Most of all, I want peace for my family.  I want us to be able to put on God's armor and shield ourselves from the negativity and ugliness~as much as we can~that can seep into our lives if we let it.  Some of it is unavoidable, but God gives us very useful tools to brandish the rest.  The most powerful one being that of the Holy Spirit that lives in our hearts.  I want my boys, and myself, to make a closer connection to that reality and to live mindfully, always, of our spirituality~~and in that way, be the lights unto the world that Jesus calls us to be. 
How do we do this?  There are many verses in the Bible that address this question, but the one that stands out the most to me is this section in Philippians, "Rejoice in the Lord always, I will say it again:  Rejoice!  Let your gentleness be evident to all.  The Lord is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable~if anything is excellent or praiseworthy~think about such things.  Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me~put into practice.  And the God of peace will be with you." (Philippians 4:4-9)
That is how we are to live our lives~and followed by the greatest promise~that of PEACE.  I also get a huge smile when I read this as the apostle Paul makes a significant point of calling us to joy.  He tells us re soundly to REJOICE.  Then says, "I will say it again...", just in case we missed it the first time, "REJOICE".  In all of the trials and tribulations we may face due to family, friends, sin, life, we are called to rejoice.  For if God is with us and for us~who can be against us?  We are to always, in good or bad circumstances, rejoice in the almighty love and strength of our Lord and Savior.  That's where faith comes in, doesn't it?
There is a saying by Buddha that states "The mind is everything.  What you think you become."

We are what we allow to filter into our minds, our souls, our hearts~and this year I want to work harder to concentrate more mindfully on whatever is true, noble, right, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy in the eyes of the Lord.  Daunting task in this world that inundates us with so much garbage.  But God gives us the weapons and strength to fight.  The Bible, his spirit, each other.  That being said, I am thankful for each and every one of you who bless me with your friendship and by doing so, continue to support our family.  We love you so much.
Happy 2012 to you all, and may it bring you many blessings and joys~~and even through the hardships, we know that we have a God who is right next to us, fighting for us, loving us, praying for us, and willing to grant us the desires of our heart if we only put our trust in him.  Amen!

Perfectly broken...

"To be nobody but yourself in a world that's doing its best to make you somebody else, is to fight the hardest battle you are ever going to fight. Never stop fighting.”
e.e. cummings Most of my life I feel like I've been hiding under a bed, underneath a blanket, scared to come out~comfortable with the darkness and solitude.  Life is often a tug of war; a tug of war of the soul~what you will do, what you want to do, and what you should do.  For some of us, this is a daily battle that begins with something just as simple as getting out of bed in the morning... Having grown up without a "father", in the true sense of the word, I have always felt a void in my life.   More like a gaping chasm, if we're being honest. I've also often wondered if actually not ever having a figure head of that name present in my life would actually have been better than the one I was given who filled me with "all kinds of crazy".  Over the years, I have learned to take what I can from that hell~and have found true peace.  A peace only found through the loving hands of a perfect Father~our heavenly one~and my life has come to take on the literal interpretation of the potter's hand to his vessel.  Continually being molded and shaped, broken and then remade.  Complete surrender... It has taken me my entire life to get to this point.  I can talk about it completely and openly.  I am not ashamed, I am not embarrassed.   I can cry about it and accept that I need to sometimes.  And moreover, I can MOVE ON.  Seems so easy, really, in theory.  But I had been stuck in bitterness and anger for so long. It has taken me this long to forgive~I had to~either that or stagnate in a prison of hate and rage.  The person who hurt me has no regrets, doesn't care, and frankly thinks he did nothing wrong (how can one argue with the voice of God in your head speaking directly to you?).   I wasn't ever going to get an apology.  Yet, I HAD to forgive.  A tricky business.  But necessary for my salvation--and by that, I mean in a very real sense--spiritually and the taking one more breath in and out kind.  I now realize that forgiving is not saying it was okay--but it IS allowing yourself to let go and placing it all in God's hands.  He's got this one now completely.  Thank you, Jesus! I still can't watch father and daughter dances at weddings without  falling apart.  I usually have to leave and walk the halls crying to myself and just brushing it off as the emotionality of the wedding itself to passers by--quite easy and believable.  The reasons I always cry at weddings is for very different reasons than most people, but that's okay.  It's me... The dance, the father walking his precious daughter down the isle, beaming with pride, yet with tears in his eyes at the thought of giving her away and "losing" her just brings me there--to THAT place--that place of questions--of what ifs and what would that be likes? What would it be like to have a father that loved you so much he thought you were the most precious angel and gift that God had ever bestowed on him and that it was an honor in itself to be given this gift?  What would it be like to have a father that loved you, respected you, valued you, or appreciated you at all?  That cared your heart was beating, that didn't use you as a wet rag to wipe up his needs?  That saw you as a beautiful creation of the Most High God, and not an abomination of sin breathing his clean air?  What kind of person would that make you?  I used to play mind games with myself when I was all of 5 and 6.  I used to make up stories about myself and my sisters.  One day our REAL parents were going to find us and take us away from all of this.  I would fantasise about these wonderful people and all of the fabulous things we would do once we were saved.  One way of coping.  Later I found that reading and writing could take me away from anything and transport me to wherever I wanted to go--if only momentarily--it was something... Then something snapped in me as a kid.  By eighth grade I think I had taken all I could physically and mentally and I had the epiphany of all epiphany's (thankfully there were better ones to come from a power higher than myself)~I WAS a worthless piece of garbage and if my parents didn't even love me or like me, there must be something seriously and intrinsically wrong with me. Ironically, it was the person that made me want to die who also, in a sense, made me want to live.  Upon finding out that I was so depressed through a teacher who expressed concern from my "depressed" writing, I was told that I would go to hell if I killed myself or thought about killing myself (everything pretty much eventually resulted in hell at our house~even your thoughts were sins, and I wasn't too sure about those as my father interpreted them as well--or if I was even breathing correctly).  The only thing scarier to me than my father was hell.  Really didn't want to go there.  Pretty sure I was going to by the terrible person I was, but didn't want to write my own ticket to the eternal pit of fire.  So, I started running.  It started as a very real fight or flight mechanism, I believe.  Running became my freedom.  I could literally and metaphorically run away from all of my problems and experience a high and happiness I had NEVER felt before.  I did it alot.  I messed up my knees.  My life revolved around it.  A day was not a good day until I had run at least two hours.  Rain, cold, heat--didn't matter.  I remember having to see a PT at Mercy after running in a knee brace when I was supposed to stay off of it (think that's when I developed my over tolerance of ibuprofen) and hearing him mutter, "Runners are just crazy."  Little did he know ;)... College hit and I got away physically.  But it all came crashing in on me when it became glaringly obvious by getting a glimpse of the lives of my fellow class mates, that my home life was~how should I say this~somewhat "abnormal".  Who knew?  I thought that's what love was all about.  The world suddenly became even more absurd and uncomfortable.  You're comfortable with what you know, even if it is horrible.  So I decided that I wanted to help people and maybe help myself.  I studied the crap out of psychology~concentrating mostly on child and behavioral psych.  I'll admit I may have been attempting to find answers to questions I didn't even know I had.  I also still loved reading and writing and took a stab at English and Philosophy as well with the hopes of maybe teaching it one day--as my English teachers were my inspirations all through high school.  I worked for a summer at Westminster Houses I and II (a home, of sorts, for all kinds of people with all kinds of mental illnesses--the day and night shifts--lots of stories there) and wasn't sure that was my life's calling.  I did my practicum at the middle school in Indianola and wasn't sure I was cut out for that either.  Took the GRE's and applied to several grad schools.  What to do?  What to do?  A restless vessel on the high seas.  I honestly just didn't think I was really capable of doing anything "real", but I was really good at "school",  and felt I had absolutely no control over my life--because someone had always had complete control over it before...  So I controlled the one thing I honestly could~eating.  And I just kind of stopped doing it.  Continued to run and kept a diligent food diary of everything I ate and the calories in each portion each and every single day (I used to be able to tell you how many laps around Simpson College's track it would take to burn off 25 m and m's).  Useful information, no?  I got down to 108 pounds and still thought I was fat.  After being diagnosed with neurally mediated syncope and undergoing the fun tilt table test (TTT) at Mercy after repeatedly fainting--thanks to Marty for driving me to all of those tests--being put on florinef for that, then having to see an oncologist (and at that time I didn't even know what that word meant) and being told my red blood cells were large, then being sent to a therapist and being put on Buspar and told I was "depressed" and "anxious with OCD tendencies", to just being told by a regular physician "you need to eat", I was a mess.  Thanks to Marty for going to some of my therapy sessions too.  Wonder if "rapid eye movement therapy" is still used today.  We never studied it in college, but my therapist tried it in several of our sessions. The theory was that if you stared at a board of red blinking dots (tiny light bulbs) that ran quickly and repeatedly back and forth in a straight line, that your left and right brain would connect to uncover memories that had been repressed~~always ended in me vomiting so we stopped attempting this form of "uncovering".  I still thought it was a sin to openly talk about the truth that was my family.  I saw Susan for years and thank her for her patience with me. I was always getting very sick (thanks to my coworkers at my first job after graduation at Meredith Corp. for taking such good care of me repeatedly and for being so understanding).  I tried a yoga class.  Meditation didn't take me anywhere peaceful.   After the magazine I worked for was no longer picked up for production (awesome severance package after only being there two years, thanks again Meredith and Family Money for the eight months of paid "vacation" time with benefits--it was truly a God thing), God put me in the position to have the opportunity to teach preschool and use all those early childhood classes I had taken at SC.  I made it up to 115 pounds after finding I needed a little more energy to work with kids.  I had been able to keep things up even after the birth of my first son, but after Griffyn and getting some red flags through my health screening at IHS after G was born and weighing in at 116, I had to start getting better.  It was very hard.  Over 20 pounds later, I look back at all those pictures and wish I could be that "fat" again ;).  I haven't weighed this much since I was six months pregnant with my boys, but I know I am healthier.  I keep repeating this to myself, anyway =).  It is still very difficult for me to be around people who are obsessed and constantly talk about working out and food and calories.  I realize they probably don't even know they are doing it.  I just can't have real relationships with those people yet.  I have gotten to a better place and can not go back there.  There are far more important things in my life now that take precedence over how many calories are in every bite I eat, and how hard I work out every day... I lost God a few times, but he never lost me.  I still find it hard to go to church.  The church never saved me.  It only confirmed everything my father ever said about me.  I was a sinner.  I was going to hell.  If I didn't do exactly what God said, I was kindling.  God saved me, and I will always cling to the verse in the Bible that explains that WE are the church--the people of God are the church--no building or affiliation--Jesus Christ lives in my heart--not in a building of four walls that serves donuts and coffee in the welcome hall.  I'm not saying that churches are bad.  Of course not!  They are a very important meeting place for the people of God to gather and grow in faith.  I'm just saying that a building does not make a church and going to church does not make you a good person (some of the most horrible people I have ever encountered in my life attended church each and every Sunday).  Jesus says, "Where two or three people are gathered in my name, there am I also."  Church can be with your family in your living room every Sunday, reading the Bible, praying and singing together--that is just as much a church as the 150 people gathered in a congregation across town.  I grew up being involved in everything a church had to offer, went to private school (hale Resurrection ;)), and not once did any one of those people ever help my family--they wanted our money, our time, and what we could give and do for them.  I do not judge a person by where they go on Sunday morning.  It's your heart, your soul, your spirit of servant hood to Christ, and what you do with the other six days of the week as well.  So, I applaud those of you who go and refill your souls every Sunday in one particular building--but I choose to have church with my friends and family anywhere we gather together in his name and on any day of the week.  Whether it's on the bike path, a park, or a living room.  It's all the same in his eyes. The long of it?  Life is a mess.  I think that's true for all of us.  At 35, I still feel like I haven't even begun to sort it all out.  And forget about "finding myself".  I am whomever God made and intends me to be.  I wake up each day, thankful for what he has brought me through, the intensely amazing blessings he has bestowed on me, for saving me in every sense of the word as my life could have gone in several different directions, and for bringing me to this spot right here--right now.  I still truly can not believe it (and I don't remember half the ride here).  He carried me, truly carried me, and never let me go.  If he was willing to spare me and hold onto me for this long, I can't help but think he has a purpose for my life.  Even if it's the simplest one of being a mommy to these two incredible boys of mine.  I know what a mess I am and am completely aware of my countless imperfections, and I have whole heartily come to accept that about myself.  I know I am emotional more than I am rational and my heart speaks before my mind.  I know that I constantly doubt myself and have the hardest time making decisions and get overwhelmed by even the simplest of ones.  I know I am clingy then may turn around and need so much space you may think I've fallen off the face of the earth.  I know that I am very mistrusting.  I know I will never be mainstream and will always be a quiet rebel.  I know I spoil my children and worry about them and miss them too much when they are away from me.  I embrace my oddities and weirdness anymore.  =)  I'm thoroughly tired of being judged and the only judgement that matters to me is that of the person who created me.  He thought I was worth dying for, so that's enough for me.  And all along, I truly had a Father.  A perfect Father--who was always there for me--telling me to hold on.  Telling me I would be something to somebody someday, and moreover, that I was everything to Him.  It just took me a long time to figure it out... I thank my friends, my sisters, brother, mom, husband, and even my kids, who have been with me on this journey--not knowing what in the hell was going on most of the time--but being there regardless.  I know I'm not an easy person to hold onto (I even want to get away from me sometimes) but know I will always give my best and even when I shut down, I will get up again.  It's on ongoing healing.  Some days it hits you--hard--but most days are just fine.  You own it, you take strength in the knowledge you survived, you throw your hands up to God and count your blessings, and you take another step forward.  You love with all your heart, forgive the best you can, and settle into the bones and skin God gave you.  You are lucky to be loved by those that love you and blessed to give that love back as best you can in the ways that you know how (and will learn to know how).  You will learn to be vunerable by just being you, although it may be the scariest thing you ever do.  I can not thank my friends enough who were also my family for so very, very long.  God put each and every one of you in my life for a reason.  I love you with all my heart.  To all of those daily healing, keep on keeping on and keep the faith.  It's so much junk to sort through and I've given up making any sense of it other than everything, even the bad stuff, happens for a reason.  Love to all of you, and continue to find your light and shine it brightly--us broken vessels are even brighter with all of that light shining through our holes :).  Peace and God bless... Marty and I about 15 years ago--just kids :) “We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.” e.e. cummings

Christmas is over, but the Merry is still in our hearts!

The birthday cake the boys make for Jesus every year (he's like a billion years old by now, Max says =))

Gma and Gpa Mitchell for Christmas in Iowa City

The boys in their matching Bumble shirts at Katie and Greg's awesome Christmas party!

Singing happy birthday to baby Jesus on Christmas night with Aunt Molly and Aunt Jen

Santa and Mrs. Clause made a surprise stop at the Black residence!  Don't know who was more thrilled, me or the boys! Thank you so much, Katie and Greg!!!  This was so special! =)

Our annual preschool Christmas program at Jester Auditorium~I love my job and these little elves!  How cute are they?  As much as I get worn out (and catch cooties), I catch even more love and hugs!!!

My awesome co-teachers that I am blessed to also call friends!

SANTA CAME!!!  Christmas morning...

Jen, me, and Molly (we missed Erin and Harold and Tim and Jenna but held you in our hearts!)

Marty and I at mom's (blessed, thankful, and a little sleepy)

Griffyn and Molly making a tent in the living room at Gma and Gpa's in Norwalk

Continuing to lift baby John and the Ten Pas family up in prayer!

Hot tea and honey to clear my stuffy head and ease a sore throat.  Tired from head to toe.  The house is a mess of toys that still need to be organized and trays of cookies and sweets are strewn all around the kitchen (thanks to all of our friends and neighbors for the goodies =)).  The boys are asking me "where are we going today?".  We have enjoyed time with friends and family, and are missing those who are no longer with us and far away~but feeling blessed to have them in our lives.  Though exhausted, my heart is full and happy. 
I think of Charles Dickens and the famous words he penned through the mouth of Tiny Tim, "God bless us everyone".  Feeling richly blessed.  Knowing each and every day can truly be Christmas with Christ living in our hearts--the greatest gift of all brought to this earth in the form of a precious little baby boy--the light of all humanity, our Savior.  There is no greater joy!
We spent the day before Christmas Eve and half of the next (had to leave early as Griff and I were getting walloped with allergies due to dog hair and I hadn't brought my inhaler or G's nebs~allergy meds can only do so much when your asthma starts to act up) in Iowa City with Gma and Gpa Mitchell and cousins.  We spent Christmas Eve at our house, and the boys slept in our room waiting for Santa to come (Max hears him every single year).  Santa came Christmas morning and we headed to Norwalk to spend time with my Mom, Homer and Jen and Molly.  It was very relaxed--mom just had surgery the weekend before, so we had a huge taco buffet bar, celebrated Jesus's birthday with cake and ice cream, and watched a movie together.  It all came and went so quickly, as it does every year it seems. 
We had our annual preschool Christmas program at Jester and also sang for the employees at Methodist in the cafeteria (I missed this cafeteria "show" as I was sick).  I have amazing friends that are also my coworkers and it wouldn't be the holidays without this "tradition" =).  Love you guys!  Stressful, yes--but everyone knows "the best way to spread Christmas cheer is by singing loud for all to hear" (smile).
The boys and I all had our share of sickness--ranging from stomach, to ear and sinus.  It seems that everyone was hit by this--some more than once.  It made for a few less "traditional" treats coming out of the Mitchell kitchen, but no one seemed to mind.  Didn't get Grandpa Jerry's caramels made that I usually get to him every year as part of his gifts.  Will have to make him some Valentine caramels instead! 
Love, peace, and joy to you all.  May you relax, sit back, and take it all in before the new year starts.  Marty and I are starting to think that we should adopt a few Hanukkah and Kwanzaa traditions next year~~we like the idea of the celebration being spread out for days~~leaves more time for reflection and truly being present in the season. 
We also remember the Ten Pas family, as always, in our daily prayers.  Their Christmas was spent in the hospital while baby John had his second round of surgery.  We pray for continued strength and healing for his little body, and that the Lord and Savior would wrap his loving arms around their family and give them the comfort and peace that only He can give.  Love you!
Blessings to you all, and now to brew another cup of tea and clean up the kitchen (without eating anything else).  I will try not to think of all that must be done in the form of putting Christmas away.  It makes me a little sad.  I will hold onto it just a bit longer--we can always put a bunch of hearts on the tree in February--and it truly doesn't feel right to take all these snowmen down until we actually have some snow. 
Feeling love, feeling joy, feeling complete and content.  Thank you, God, for your saving gift to all of humanity.  May we always continue to seek you!!!   And in the words of little Tiny Tim, "God bless us everyone!"

I know bad things happen, but you can still live...

My mother, me, and my sisters

My amazing husband, brother in law, my boys and step dad

My brother and his wife (and sister on each side)

The above title quote is from the Steven Spielberg directed movie, "Super 8" and is said by an adolescent boy character named Joe.  This is the point, in the rather slow movie, that the tears began to flow and the time I had invested became worth it.  So simple, yet so wise and true...

This will not be eloquent.  This will be choppy and random.  This is how everything I sit down to write about my family is (and why my non-fiction writing class in college was so torturous)...  But, type I will as real is all I know how to be...

As anyone who knows me knows, I love my family with all my being.  My husband, my boys, my mother, sisters and brother complete my soul and fulfill my life in a way that makes breathing and living, well, possible (and very joyful).  Anyone who is in touch with me on a regular basis also knows that I was able to spend a wonderful week with my entire family (all those that hail from Minnesota, Wisconsin, and New York) and I was rejuvenated mentally, physically, and spiritually.  It was a really amazing experience to sit back and watch all of us--together--and feel the immense overflow of blessing that it truly is.  To feel it reverberate to the very core of my soul.  I covet this time and treasure it deeply.  Though departure was very sad for all of us (Max and Griffyn still miss everyone terribly), I also felt revived and validated.  It hasn't always been this way...

It's been a long time coming.  Lots of hard work, reconstruction, and lots and lots of faith.  We've always loved each other immensely, but we haven't always been safe.  Now we are.  And what a difference that has made.  And even when safety no longer became an issue, trust was.  How do you rebuild after someone has so devastatingly raped everything from you that you thought was you; and ultimately~~who you felt you could have been?  How do you trust "the others", that although they went through the same abuse, they will not hurt you again? 

It's so much faith, my friends.  Faith, time, and understanding.  An understanding that the past is very much the past, the present is much better, and the future is even brighter.  The faith that everyone is doing their absolute best to be the people God intended them to be; in His light and likeness and not under the dark dictatorship of someone who was supposed to love, protect, and guide you, and instead told you that you were a worthless piece of nothing resulting from sin.  Imagine the freedom of escaping that tyranny--and then the chaos of finding yourself and your true place in the world and God's plan, by his mercy, for you.  "Rewiring" your entire thinking process about yourself and the world around you... 

My mom divorced my biological father during the birth of my first son about nine years ago.  It was very difficult for me to have my mom ask me for help as I had fought and fought this man from childhood to adulthood very much on my own.  I put my trust in my heavenly Father that it was the right thing to do, and with a colicky three month old baby in tow, I did everything I could to "save" my mom.  My siblings did the same.  Then it was time to work together to save our family...

Like I said, the rebuild has been slow.  So much hurt and pain to wade through.  So many things kept silent.  But underneath it all, we were survivors together and had held on together.  And no one knew what we had been through but us.  It's okay to talk about it all, cry it out, scream it out--even if it doesn't make sense.  Because that is what families do.  You love each other unconditionally.  We all had to relearn this.  And we all wanted it badly enough to do so.  We created a place where it was okay to be just who we were--scars and all.  This is my heaven on earth...

Where I came from is nothing I am ashamed of.  It's a major part of who I am.  I've learned to glean the positive--it has made me a fighter, made me strong, and made me appreciate everything I have had to fight for.  Each and every day is a blessing.  However, there were many years where I hated people asking me the question, "and are you going to see your folks for such and such a holiday?" "how's your dad?" and questions and accusations and more questions (and don't even get me started on our wedding...).  I was just trying to, quite literally, survive.  Keep my sanity and fight for my soul.  How do you put out an answer like that casually?  And how do you not feel like a bad person for trying to avoid such a sullen and private explanation by saying, "oh, I'm just not really all that close to my family."  It has taught me not to judge others.  You never know what people have been through or are going through.  There's way too much judgement going on in this world. 

I've learned so much about myself and have faith that everything happens for a reason.  I am not the person I was ten years ago, or five years ago, for that matter.  I have learned that I AM worth something.  I am a child of God and there is no one person that merits my value on this earth. I do NOT have to  please people all the time to have a sense of self worth.  As easy as this sounds, this one has been a long time coming.  I am still learning it to this day, and my family's visit this past week was perfect timing for a typical situation that has been a reoccurring "thorn in my flesh" for me. 

I can not stand gossip.  Especially in the guise of "concern".  A person who talks behind your back to others and create scenarios that are completely untrue--"stretched truths, altered truths, embellished truths"--all still lies.  If you have something to say, say it to my face, and when I call you on it, don't have the audacity to claim concern--if you were truly concerned you would talk to me, honestly, openly, like an adult with respect for another adult.  I will not except this kind of talk against other people either.  I will tell you, point blank, I don't want to hear it or have anything to do with it.  How is it "helping" anyone?   It doesn't.  It is purely self seeking, and really, has nothing to do with me--just the other person's desire for attention...

In essence, my background has taught me that HONESTY and TRUTH and RESPECT are the basic building blocks of any relationship and should be present in ALL of our relationships.  If they are not, walk away.  And if you have no choice but to deal with these kind of people, let their lies and manipulation games just run off like water.  God WILL give you the strength and mental fortitude to do so...

This past week, my family was able to show me that God sees my heart, they see my heart, and that people who truly know and love me know who I am.  Does the opinion of strangers and those who really don't care about me who are being fed garbage really matter?  In the end, all truth will be shown.  I am responsible for me and being the very best person God created me to be.  That is all--and that is enough.  Before, I would have let it devastate me.  Isn't it funny that the people that seem to know you the least and show the least respect for you, are the ones that have the most advice on how you should go about living your life; the most judgement and the most twisted version of the "truth" (as they call it)?  I thank my mom, sisters, brother, and step dad for not letting me slip back into old patterns and just to let this negativity all go.  I didn't have this support structure before.  I am more than grateful to have it now.  I credit my husband for this as well.  He has been through everything with me and has always stood up for me and stood by my side. 

We've been through hell and back.  We've made it to a very good place.  I am so proud of us.  No, we're not perfect,  No we never will look perfect and I'm sure there will always be someone out there judging us, but I really don't care.  I don't.  There is SO much freedom in that.  We are a motley crew of mixed baggage, and to me, we look absolutely beautiful!

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in my weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

This verse sums it up for me.  I did not have a "Leave It To Beaver" family.  The past was dark.  The important part is that it is over (although the nightmares still come and go for us) and we are all moving on to be the people we wanted to be to and with each other and were not allowed to be.  We are the family we always wanted (smile).  Words can not express my gratefulness to God for that.  I love you all, Erin, Tim, Jennifer, Molly, Mom, Homer, and Marty--we are the Super 8 and although "bad things happen, you can still live...".  Praise God!  His love endures forever!

The Confessions Of An On-line Shopaholic...

    
What a week!  From surgery, to a strep and barf epidemic at work, to mice in the car...  I'm ready to put my feet up and tune in to Bravo.  This momma is wiped out!
The car has been scrubbed, washed and vacuumed out (and every little noise made me jump--and thanks to Lisa for the tip about the dryer sheets too), Clorox bleached, car seat washed, all blankets washed, and then everything sprayed down again one more time for good measure.  Gold Canyon auto refresher hanging to tone down the smell of bleach a little.  Autumn Walk infused with Clorox.  Maybe I'm on to something (smile)...
In pain as I may have not "taken it easy" on the leg this week of healing, but what mom seriously has the leisure and luxury to do that?  My family is home.  Just waiting on Tim, Jenna, and Molly.  Max has a basketball game, then off to Norwalk for pizza and goodies and Harold and Erin time!!! (and gma, gpa, and Aunt Jen too, of course).  I'm finding myself in serious need of a second wind.  Laundry all completed and house vacuumed.  Have to thank my husband for the vacuuming.  The darn leg wouldn't cooperate with that one.  There is SOME pain you just have to listen to (smile).
Wrapped some gifts and got them under the tree for the three boys.  Waiting for a few more to arrive.  I have come to the conclusion, after always having a sneaking suspicion, that I have a SERIOUS online shopping problem when it comes to my family and home.  And all the online deals and super sales lately have NOT been helping this addiction (damn you, Kohl's!!!).  It's not a super, fabulous, great deal if you don't need it in the first place, right? 
I knew it had gotten really bad when a few gifts I'd ordered for the boys arrived on my doorstep and I'd completely forgotten I had even ordered them (I blame Totsy's slow service for that one).  It has to stop.  It really must.  My credit card bill is atrocious.  I will publicly admit that to you all (I know, hard to believe on a teacher's salary that I just can't pay cash for everything!).  And the sad part is, I gave my credit card to my husband to deter my spending--but after you've used it so frequently online you have all the necessary numbers memorized.  I need help.  It's just way too easy. 
I am making a solemn vow to myself, friends, and family to stop.  Now.  Just quit.  It has gotten so bad that I tell myself it just doesn't matter anymore.  But it does.  And it just keeps getting worse.  It's kind of like when I try to go on a diet--and just gain more weight.  It's sinful as  it's gluttony, it's greed...  My kids need more toys, clothes, movies, and shoes like they need more Halloween candy.  Although I adore their smiles and hugs of appreciation at said gifts, I know that I can gain those loves from them without the debt.
I tell myself, "It's only money".  I tell myself, "The government is in serious debt, why should I be any different?".  I try to Freud it, as I do most things, by telling myself it's just because I had nothing as a kid.  I started babysitting full time in the summers at the tender age of sixth grade (Alex and Chris Newman--where are those sweet little boys now?), worked in a factory binder in 7th (which I'm wondering if that was even legal), water billing in Lakewood, the cafe in Norwalk's old Plaza and that was all before I hit my senior year of high school.  I worked my butt off, and it was for shampoo, deodorant, clothes, all the rest of my toiletries--stuff I needed--because that's what you do in a struggling family of seven.  Luxuries weren't on the menu.  Cool clothes and extra's were something I borrowed from my friends (thank you, Summer!).
So, I like to splurge.  I like to be able to get my children all the fun stuff (and yes, myself included).  I feel like I've earned it, dammit!  I've worked so hard my entire life, and I'm tired of everyone else getting all the good stuff.  I sound like a little brat throwing a temper tantrum, don't I? 
But, that's how I rationalize it.  My kids are good people, I'm good people, my friends and family are good people, and gosh darn it, we deserve it.  And so I rationalize the idea that things buy happiness.  And I sit having a panic attack and being thrown into a chasm of depression every time I get my credit card bill~shaking as I open it (I wish I was kidding).  The never ending pit that I vow to dig myself out of.  It will happen.  It has to happen.  I owe it to my family and myself.  I owe it, especially, to my husband who works so hard to make this blessed life happen for us!
I also find that the more my life spins out of the control, the more I "need" to buy things to feel better.  Stress induces shopping.  But then my shopping induces a panic attack as I fume at my weakness and lack of self control and I become even more stressed.  It's a vicious cycle--and one I need to get out of fast!!!  My children need a college education more than a personalized, monogrammed, matching pair of Sponge Bob pajamas and slippers!  Wow, I just typed that 'out loud'. 
So, this is my plea to all of you.  Hold me accountable, keep me motivated, and any tips or suggestions to make this easier would be most helpful.  This is the worst time of year to make this commitment, along with the diet I've vowed to stick to, but it has to be done.  It is breaking my spirit, truly.  Marty has instructed my children to tell me "no" when I ask them a question about something I think they'll want and Max has been very good about this (although I can see disappointment in his eyes).  But maybe that's disappointment in me, not the dismissed gadget or toy.  Disappointment that his momma can't practice what she preaches--that material things don't matter or renew a person's soul...
Baby steps.  And although the pit seems far too vast, I must start digging.  I'm being honest with myself.  I'm being honest with my kids and my husband.  I really don't like the person I see in the mirror, or the sinking feeling I get in my stomach when I get online "just to look".  It truly is a drug of sorts. 
What surprises me the most in all of this, is that I am a very "in control" person.  I do not let myself explore that other side (hence my aversion to the prescribed pain pills for my last two leg surgeries--I'd rather feel the pain than that out of  my body feeling--it makes me much too uncomfortable), but when it comes to buying things, I can't say no. 
Until today...  Target, Victoria's Secret, Amazon, Piperlime, Zappos, Kohl's, Athleta, Totsy, Sephora--be gone with you!  You will tempt be no more! 

Stabs, butterflies, and no more spaghetti...

Bringing Sexy Back...

Day four after surgery this past Friday...  Mummy ace bandages that went from foot to thigh could finally be taken off.  Bloody gauze pads removed.  A few butterfly bandages ripped and were replaced by band aids.  I was able to take a shower!  It's the little things we must celebrate (smile)...

All in all, this procedure was hands down easier and less painful than the first I had done in April.  Dr. Fry is amazing.  Besides having great hair, he is a pro at wielding that hook and scalpel (along with that very poky scissors of his).  The vein is gone.  The pain during surgery minimal (aside from one screaming moment over the knee cap where I lamented that the last time I had pain this severe, I got to bring a baby home), just an utterly strange feeling of your muscles and skin being pulled and yanked for an hour and fifteen minutes and hearing the snipping of scissors and feeling the rushing of fluids.  I asked Dr. Fry if that was, by chance, blood I was feeling.  He looked up at me and said with that infamous little chuckle, "well, and other things".  I stopped asking questions...

What felt like an eternity later ( I was awake for this one, but the drugs they gave me were fabulous as I really didn't feel much pain--just "weirdness"), he asked me if I wanted to see the extracted vein.  The big old swollen thing had been with me for so very long, I only felt it proper to say farewell and wish it all the best.  I knew I'd be kicking myself later if I had gone through this whole ordeal and hadn't taken the opportunity to look at it.  Very gross.  There is was, just laying on the metal tray next to all of the surgical equipment--in three separate pieces.  "Looks like a worm, doesn't it?"  Dr. Fry asked.  "Either that or spaghetti", I said--not sure I'd ever be able to eat it again.  Something that was once inside my body was just lying there--all bloody and slimy.  It was quite surreal.  Four incisions, or stabs, were made in my leg to get it out (I really should have named it).  Lots of bruising due to the tugging and pulling.  All rather miraculous to me.  Modern medicine is truly a marvel.  Dr. Fry asked me if I was having separation anxiety when I laid back down (always the joker).  I said, "No, just trying not to pass out."

All swollen and bandaged up, I was told not to shower or take the dressings off till Monday.  I kind of think he said some other important stuff too, but I really don't remember much.  Hobbled on out, made a recheck appointment for December, and then back in the van.   Marty stopped to get me a salad at McDonald's (thanks to my sister's very generous gift card on this momentous day), scarfed it down as I was starving, went home and went to bed.  My sister was kind enough to take the day off of work to watch Griffyn for us--who wanted to jump on mommy right away and didn't understand why I was "so cabby". 

Our friend and neighbor, Amy, and the kids came over to drop off dinner last night and check in on me (thanks, girl!).  I told her my only real concern was that Dr. Fry had said the butterfly bandages covering the incisions should stay on for a week and a few of them had already opened up (I got dizzy trying to stand and fell right on my knee -- pretty sure that's what did it).  She assured me not to worry about the butterflies breaking and told me just to put a band aid over it.  Amy is a great source for all information medical and otherwise (smile).

 

At bedtime, I asked the boys if they had any questions or concerns after we read our stories for the night.  They had been in Iowa City all weekend while Daddy hung out with friends and watched the game and they had lots of fun making cookies and decorating the tree with Grandma Mitchell.  They left for Iowa City a few hours after I had surgery and had only seen me in pain and then go to bed.  I wanted to talk about it because the unknown is scary, and this really wasn't anything for them to be worried or scared about. 

Max's interpretation of what happened was awful.  He assumed they spliced me from ankle to hip and completely cut my whole leg open and pulled everything out.  He was worried I'd never be able to walk again.  I let him ask lots of questions and explained the surgery process in very easy steps.  He was quite relieved.  I told them they made teeny, tiny incisions (about the same size as the cuts Griffyn had to get stitched up by his eye and mouth), pulled the vein out of those incisions, stitched them back up, bandaged me up, and now it was just time for it all to heal.  Griffyn then asked me, "Is dat when dey put in da butta fies?".  Max says, "What are you talking about, Griffyn?"  So G says again, "Da butta fies--in yore yegs...  Is dat when dey put dem in?".  I realized then, that Griffyn had heard Amy and I talking about the butterfly bandages and just started laughing.  "No, G.  No butterflies in my legs, honey.  That's just what they call the band aids they put on because the stips look like butterfly wings."  He looked thoroughly disappointed...

So, all in all, not the best time I've ever had, but by far much, much better than the last procedure!!!  Rerouting three different veins and keeping them going must be more painful than just pulling the suckers out.  The heal time for actual working viens is much longer, longating the recovery process.  I had to worry about rupturing and exploding occuring in my leg as the veins were healing.  Nothing majorly internal to heal this time around.  It's mostly on the outside of my leg with this procedure. That vein is in a hospital dumpster.  They wouldn't let me take it home in a jar (ha!). 

Very thankful for such an amazing surgeon in Dr. Fry, a fabulous nursing staff, my sister, Jen, for watching Griff and spoiling me, my mother in law for watching the boys in Iowa City so I could rest (although, I didn't go to sleep till after 2 a.m. that night as I'd never been away from all three of my boys for a night and it was unbearable and I don't plan on doing it again any time soon), and all of my friends for the phone calls, support, and love.  I am so blessed. 

Dr. Fry promised I'd be faster, sexier, and healthier, so I'm holding him to that (smile).  What a year.  To go from never having surgery in your entire life, to having two in one year within seven months of each other is just way too much excitement for me.  I think I'll take a break and let someone else have a turn now.  Any takers? ;)

A heart full of thanks...

"Let us come before Him with thanksgiving..."  Psalm 95:2

Every night before bed, the boys and I say our prayers.  If Daddy's home he joins us too.  I think it is very important to pray as a family, to put our fears, hopes, dreams, requests, and thankfulness together before the Lord.  
Lately, Griffyn has been VERY insistent that he wants a baby.  He's been adamant that he is no longer the baby, and he thinks we really just need another one.  So, he prays nightly for "a new baby, not a tid, a baby".  And not JUST a baby~~more specifically "a sister".  =)  I have to smile and take great delight in this as it does not come from me in the least (I am officially "over" my 2 year baby urge~~cured! ;)).  I can barely handle the two I have and can't imagine being even MORE sleep deprived!  So sorry, G, no go...
I think, in large part, Griff's obsession  has to do with his friend Jakson at daycare.  Jakson has a baby sister and all we hear about at our house is "baby Yivia".  Griffyn is apparently smitten.  He did ask Jakson if he could have "Yivia", and apparently Jakson isn't ready to give her up just yet ;).  I don't think mommy Allison is either =).
Griffyn recently saw a mommy carrying a baby at Max's football practice and told me he wanted THAT baby.  "Just doe det her, mommy"!  So, I went into a light explanation about how we can't just walk up to random people and take their babies ('that's called kidnapping, Griffyn, and that would make that Mommy really sad and get your Mommy in big trouble').  To this explanation he replied, "Tan't we dust share?". 
His next frame of thinking was that "You should dust doe buy one at da store, Momma.  I think you should doe to Target." (ahhhhh, I have my boys trained so well~~all happy things are found at that magical place called 'Target' ;)).  So this involved further explanation that I didn't want to go TOO deeply into about how babies are a miracle made in the Mommy's tummy and when it's time God takes them out. 
So Griff wanted to know how they stay in the Mommy's tummy and don't get lost somewhere else in her body (I can honestly say I have never been asked this question by a three year old).  Thus came a brief explanation about the umbilical cord that connects the baby to the inside of the Mommy and how it gets cut off by the Daddy or the Doctor when the baby is born and that's why Griff has a belly button.  After pulling up his shirt and briefly checking his out, he said, "Otay" and ran off to play on the climber.  Whew!  Done with questions for awhile.  His curiosity was satisfied.
So that brings me back to our nightly prayers.  I encourage the boys to thank God for at least three blessings from their day.  Max usually takes the easy way out ;), and always thanks God for Mommy, Daddy, and Griffyn (efficient, right?).  Griffyn usually goes into more detail talking about ALL the things he's done and had fun doing (while I'm quite sure he has a very grateful heart, I'm also a little suspicious that he does this to delay bedtime just that much more ;)).  We say prayers for friends who are hurting and going through tough times, and we thank Jesus for dying on the cross for us so that we can always be together forever as a family in heaven. 
Things were going pretty run of the mill last night.  The boys were thanking God for our pending trip to the apple orchard and pumpkin patch and for the nice weather then Griffyn blurts out "Desus, I thank you for my BELLY BUTTON!"  Max burst out laughing.  "Your belly button?"  I ask.  "Griffyn, love, why did you thank Jesus for your belly button?".  With an exasperated sigh as in 'duh Mom, you really should know these things', he says, "Tause it makes you MY Mommy."  My heart melted just a little.  "Why yes it does, G" I said tucking him in.  Then I heard Max mutter under his breath, "Jesus, I thank you for my belly button too."  =)
God, I thank you for my boys....  and for their belly buttons that make them mine.  There is not greater blessing on this earth. 

A vacation from life for awhile...

"We can't all, and some of us don't.  That's all there is to it."  Eeyore

     It's been one of those days...  One of those days for a few weeks now.  Wouldn't it be nice if we could just take a complete vacation from our lives for just a little while?  Not talking weeks or anything, even a few hours would be okay (smile).
     Being a mommy is a lot of work.  Work I love, but a lot of work.  And when you take the time to cultivate patience and understanding~~it teaches so much and really has made me a better person~~a much more vocal and outspoken person, but better ;).  Being a wife is a lot of work too (especially a wife to a man who teaches, coaches, and loves/worships Iowa football), but work I also love.  Teaching and taking care of children is my profession and quite honestly, the most and hardest work I've ever done (sometimes I miss those cubicle days at Meredith Publishing for Family Money magazine--okay more than sometimes ;))~but work I am dedicated to and used to feel quite fulfilling.  As of late, I'm thinking my fellow staff and I should write our own version of "The Help"...
     Through it all we keep pushing ourselves, trying to be a good friend, giving as much as we can of ourselves to show God's love, to share some encouragement in a world that seems to be full of such "yuckiness" (as my 3 year old says), nurturing our relationship with God, with girlfriends, all takes time too.  And I often feel like I'm failing in this respect--grabbing the Bible late before bed when I can barely keep my eyes open (honestly, sometimes the only 'Bible' I get is the children's Bible stories I tell my children each night before bed), throwing notes and favors to friends when I can squeeze them in, having every intention of getting notes and cards sent (and they're still sitting on my counter), meaning to bake that special dessert for a neighbor who's going through a tough time--sometimes getting it done, sometimes not...  Being the person I truly WANT to be takes lots of time...
     Taking a break from running after a playground injury today after taking a bit of a break from it last week as well due to time constraints and cold, cold mornings at 4:30 a.m. (and the treadmill and I haven't become best of friends yet...).  Trying to stay healthy and making some time for the things I love and keep me sane usually take a back seat.  My children (and husband) keep reminding me that I drink entirely too much caffeine and eat way too much sugar.  They are my crutches.  I'll admit that.
     Taking time to PAUSE...  Taking time to find JOY...  Taking time to find PEACE...  I pray and talk a lot to God (so if you see my mumbling to myself in the car, that's what I'm doing ;)), and am doing the best I can day by day.  Right now it is WAY past Max's bedtime and we are still doing homework together (he's writing a story with a list of vocabulary words he has to use in his story after finishing his Math worksheets, timed tests, spelling, and reading for the night--this all after football practice till 7 p.m., a quick supper and bath and a full day of school...  We do what we can.  He has lots of responsibility and probably wishes he could have a vacation too.  Griff just wants to run around and scream HIKE and play football some more (after begging me to make him cookies as our friend, Sara, just gave me a horse shaped cookie cutter today--getting home from work a little before seven tonight, I had no energy to start sugar cookies ;)).  Tomorrow, baby...  We'll make lots and lots of Floyds and Spirits tomorrow...
     So, here's to a vacation in our mind.  Here's to finding peace, joy, and transcendence above our stress from God and from within.  Here's to all the blessings, big and small, we have to hold onto (and those we have had to let go and miss, yet have had the blessing of holding for a little while).  Here's to the friends we love and wish we could see and do more for (and for them loving us just the same).  And to doing what we can, when we can and not beating ourselves up anymore...  Life does enough of that for us...  Love you all...
 

A baby named John...

"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." 

1 Peter 5:7

     Been down in the dumps, as of late.  Just got over a bad round of the flu (so cleaning up barf last week in our preschool room may not have helped) and missed all of our family's special fourth of July activities.  Sad.  Got sick at the street dance (after feeling tired and yucky all day and just pushed through then it hit--three rounds of Excedrin later), missed our town's parade (and watching Max ride in their baseball float and throw candy at all of his friends--bonus: their team White Sox float won--exciting for an eight year old boy), all the park's fun festivities, and the fireworks.  Very bummed.  So much for that annual scrap book page.  And it's back to work tomorrow.  At least I didn't have to use a sick day, right? 

     So, I decided to catch up on emails and check out my girlfriend's blogs, and reread Gina's blog about her unborn son, John's, heart.  Again, tears.  Again, blown away by her amazingly steadfast faith.  Again, reminded of how truly blessed I am.  If any of you get a chance to read it, please do (see my blog side bar at right--"John's Heart") and please, please, please pray for John, Gina, and their entire family.  Max has been fervently praying each night for this little baby that has yet to be born and he daily reminds me to do the same.  Gina and Kyle, you are always in our thoughts and prayers.  Your faith is beyond inspiring.  Your courage unfathomable.

     And so I go to the word for a little extra push (my other daily vitamin), and open to 1 Peter and the above verse hits me like a sledge hammer.  "Cast all your anxiety on him...".  ALL of it, not just some of it--ALL of it.  It's not healthy to carry it around all by ourselves, nor does he want us to.  Then comes the second part--the 'because'...  "Because he cares for you."  He CARES for us.  He cares for me.  How awesome is that?  God truly cares for us, not because he needs anything from us and not just like a passing thought in the wind--but enough to want us to unload--completely unload--on him. 

     And this is so much easier said than done for some of us.  Really?  Give it all up?  Because who will take care of it if I really let go?  Whom can I really TRUST with all this stuff but me?  No one better than God, right?  Yet it's tough.  But that's what FAITH is all about.  Trusting in what we can not see, in a future that we can't control, but is in the loving, and caring, hands of our God.

     And again I am brought back to John's story and the strength of a woman named Gina.  And I have renewed courage and strength as I think of her and her son's future battles and how our heavenly Father has a plan for John, for Gina and Kyle, and for the two beautiful  children they have.  I think of the anxiety Gina must face as a mommy--for her unborn son and for her entire family--and am blown away by her dedication to the Lord in this extremely difficult time.  And my 'issues' seem minute.   God bless the Ten Pas family...

All in a day...

This spring has been full of activities and more activities!  For a person who doesn't always relish being social, I have no choice but to jump in feet first (smile).  Being the momma of these two boys makes caffeine a daily necessity (as well as under eye cream-HA!)!!! 
A very busy day.  A decent run--very muddy due to all of the flooding our poor little town has experienced (nothing like seeing a family of ducks swimming across what was once a road--and saying a prayer for all the farmers out there who's farm land is now lakes and rivers), loads and loads of laundry, dusting the whole house, baking cookies, cleaning all the bathrooms, organizing toys, paying bills, and cooking dinner--one tired momma. 
Managed to play with the boys outside for a bit and now I'm ready to pass out.  My sister, who resides in Brooklyn, is coming home tomorrow.  Hence all the cleaning.  It will last for a day (smile), but at least our "first impression" will be a good one.  We also have a birthday party and possibly a game--all depending on whether we receive more rain.  Our weekends seem to be just as jam packed as our weeks.  Gone are the days of just doing nothing.  I miss those sometimes.  I think the boys do too. 
Griff managed to squeeze in some play dough time today too.  He's one of those kids who seems to need something "new" every five minutes.  A little frustrating when your "to do" list is a mile long.  Now we're waiting for cookies to cool and I'm waiting for the boys to go down so I can take a bubble bath (and "sort" through more toys).  Marty was busy working on the boys' play set for our back yard today.  We seem to be missing a few pieces of lumber.  Why does this always seem to happen to us?  It's quite the project, and we can't wait for him to get it done!!!  Swings, slide, ladders, and sandbox here we come!  (and I can just sit on the deck and watch!!!  big smile!).
Happy summer, and we look forward to more weddings and gatherings and baseball--and possibly a few naps?  Who has time for sleep, right?  Keeping busy keeps us all out of trouble, I guess, and I NEVER hear the words "I'm bored" around the house anymore.  A key sign of spring and summer's return...

Molly's wedding

a zoo trip (Griff was terrified of the dinosaur exhibit!)

Max's tournament team~Coach Osterhouse

taking a break between ball games to cool off and play 'Angry Birds' on the Ipad2 with Daddy

the boys had fun baby sitting Stella for Stacey (although they nicknamed her "Hissy")

Griff's 3 year photos from Sears

http://www.SearsPhotos.com/ViewSharedAlbum.aspx?ShareID=a4430867-ab8c-415b-b380-cb26399809db  (you can check them out here)

So, we waited for an hour and got lucky enough to get a photographer on her first day!  Yikes!  I had zero patience at the end of the shoot and wanted to step in and just do it myself.  It was ridiculous.  She had no experience and should have had someone there to help (but that other person was busy taking senior pictures for a girl that didn't even have an appointment set up). 
G is an easy smiler and we got a few good ones.  Just know NOT to make appointments on the weekends ever again!  Happy 3, G!!!  We love ya!

In full swing...

Baseball began in March, the draft anyway.  A few practices and many games later, we are now into the heart of tournament season as well.  We seem to be eating, living, and breathing baseball.  Max went from not having the greatest of confidences to being on the top of the world--hitting every time and enjoying the game.  Since getting hit with a few balls and facing some tough teams this tournament weekend, he feels like a 'loser'--and no amount of "just do your best" seems to be helping him out of his slump and feelings of worthlessness.

 

We live in such an age of "be the best or don't bother" and I find it very challenging to teach my boys that their best really is good enough.  Just try.  Just always try to be the very best Max you can be.  That's all I expect, that's all God expects...  But, it's tough.  There's always someone who wants more (whether it's internal or external).

 

Max has always been hard on himself.  He wants to be perfect.  He wants to make everyone happy (and perfection somehow seems to be the answer to this demand he places on himself).  I, in turn, want him to be happy.  If only he could be like his three year old brother and just be happy blowing bubbles, getting a piece of candy now and then, riding his bike, playing in the dirt, and finding the occasional caterpillar who is brave enough to be cuddled by an energetic three year old boy (smile). 

But, Max has always been a people pleaser--he worries and has horrible anxiety issues if he feels like he's letting anyone down.  Seriously, kiddo, just go out there and have fun.  Daddy always tells him to just keep swinging.  Don't be afraid.  If you fail, at least you've tried.  Logic wasted on our eight year old (sad).  Apparently he's inherited the pp (people pleaser) gene from me.  It's become far less dominant in my 30's...

All we can do is tell him how proud we are of him and how much we love him.  I would have been terrified to even attempt a sport at his age--we started so much later way back then.  I don't want his confidence to be based on his performance.  I want it to be based on the genuinely amazing and unique kid he is.  Everyone strikes out from time to time.  Ya gotta just keep at it--swinging away at all those obstacles that come your way (I would have been happy to hit a foul ball at his age). 

Prayers for Max as he takes this all so hard and obsesses about it.  No sport is worth bringing him this far down, but with the bad comes the good and happy times as well--just wish he could be more light hearted about it and have those happy times more often.  If this is how hard he takes things at eight, I can't imagine how much fun the future of his athletic endeavors will be!  I hope to get a handle on it by then.  Because it SHOULD be fun.  I keep telling him to try to have a better attitude and that life is what you make it--but to Max, it's not worth it or good enough unless you 'make it' perfectly.

 

Hoping the month ahead is better as we have three more weekends of tournaments ahead--lots of games, long days--and hopefully lots of fun.  Griff can't wait to get out there!  He cheers his brother on from the stands (when he's not finding every mud and water whole he can possibly find).

 

I was never an athlete, so I am impressed with everything my baby does--but Mom's pride isn't enough anymore.  Sad.  They grow up way too fast...  About as fast as they swing...