Nothing really

Things have been crazy here the past month. My mom broke her pelvis in early August. ( She fell off a ladder that she never should have climbed up in the first place) ;( I'm still in physical therapy for my plantar fasciitis. Note to self: never EVER train/run a mini marathon again. We started a 700 square foot addition on the back of our home. And it's a mess. For someone with OCD, such as myself, it's driving me CRAZY. My boys however are completely fascinated with the whole thing. What  three year old little boy wouldn't love waking up to bulldozers in their backyard?? Regarding the addition, we love where we live. We are only about 10 minutes from downtown. We are walking distance to the school where we will send them. As well as walking distance to the park and several restaurants and drug stores. The neighborhood is filled with young families like us, especially on our block. We know all of our neighbors. On any given day you can find us on someone's front lawn with kids running back and forth while the adults relax and enjoy each other's company. And our next door neighbors? Well, they are simply amazing. Tom and Audrey have raised three boys. The youngest being 18. So not only do they know how crazy little boys can be, they welcome the chaos. Many times throughout the week my doorbell will ring with some goodie that Audrey has made for me. She will just say she knows how hard these times are with littles and she thought she would make me something. Sometimes I will come home to a fully cooked meal;) in the evenings when the boys are outside they will pick them up over the fence and let them play at their house. For hours. So I can get a break. They walk my dog if I'm gonna be gone all day. They let the electrician into the house if I can't be there. And they stay until he's finished. If I need to take a walk and clear my head...I simply text them and they come over. They watch the boys, for FREE, so we can have a date night. When we had a leak from all the rain....Tom was the first one I called. He came over and helped Chris fix it. At midnight. They are not just neighbors, they have become family. And while we searched all spring and summer for a larger home, we just couldn't leave this street. This is HOME. So we are now doing a major renovation. As if that wasn't enough, two weeks ago my dad had a stomachache. He went to his doctor who admitted him to the hospital. Thinking it was his diverticulitis, my dad needed some IV antibiotics. Just to be safe the doctor ordered a CT scan to check for an abscess. There was no abscess, however my dad's large intestine had perforated. He was rushed from CT scan straight into emergency surgery. The surgeon had to remove over a foot of his colon. His infection was so severe that the surgeon could not even close his abdomen. He has an open vertical wound measuring 8 inches long by 4 inches wide. In addition he has a temporary ileostomy. The surgeon plans to reverse the ileostomy in 6-8 weeks. My dad was discharged today with home health. He can't work and can not drive until his reversal surgery. Oh...and Blake needs a tonsillectomy/adenoidectomy. Turns out he has sleep apnea.
And no, my kids aren't potty trained yet. In fact, that is the farthest thing from my mind.
But we must be doing something right. Because the other night while we were saying prayers, Blake added to the end of it...."and God bless mommy's feet."

summer 2014

the lake

I grew up going to the lake every weekend.  I never imagined that my boys would love the lake.  It's a  long day on the boat.  But my boys love it.  They absolutely love it.  Some mornings when they wake up they ask if they can go to the lake.  They want to see the boats, the wave runner, and Uncle John.  I wish my grandparents could see how much happiness the lake brings the next generation.

Dear beckett

Beckett. Wow. This past week has been bad. You have brought me to my knees and left me drowning in puddles of frustration. I am exhausted buddy. As I type this I think of what awaits us tomorrow. You have been waking up so angry lately. Your fuse is short. And your temper is quick. And my tears are plentiful. I don't know what's going on. Are you not getting enough sleep? Enough food? Am I pushing you to hard with this damn potty training? Are you not getting enough attention? Does something hurt? Just tell me. Because I am at a loss. And I hate, hate when I let my frustrations from your behavior control me. I am supposed to be the adult, but sometimes I act just like a child. I threaten you with punishment or I bribe you with treats. And if that doesn't work, I end up angry and defeated and mean. And that helps nobody. You can be a difficult child. You are willful and deliberate. It is your way or no way. And you are only three. I worry about when you are sixteen. I obsess over the discipline I instill now. Is it enough? Is it not enough? Am I too stern? Am I a pushover? And I worry way way too much what others think. When we are out in public, inevitably you will get upset. Over a toy. A drink. A car. Whatever. And you throw a fit. Not necessarily a tantrum, but you become upset. And the first thing I do? Instead of trying to calm you down and talk to you in a rational tone....? I look around. Are people staring at me? Do they think I'm a bad mother? Do they think my child is out of control? You would think that I wouldn't worry about that stupid stuff. The opinions of others. Especially after losing Harper. But that's just it. That's why I do care. Too much. After she died all I wanted was to become a momma. And now that I am I want to make sure that I am doing it correctly. That I am worthy of the two littles entrusted into my care. Because now I know what it's like to have everything and then nothing. To dream and then to despair. And so even though she has been gone four years now, her spirit still haunts me. And so I judge, myself. 

And by doing that I feel as if I have failed you. I never imagined that something that I wanted this desperately would be so damn hard. Parenting is hard. So very hard. I wish that somebody would tell me what to do. To give me a guideline. Point me in the right direction. But their is just me. On my knees. Asking for patience. For grace. For security. And for peace. And maybe that is what this battle between you and I has been all about. To give me the humility to ask for His help and wisdom to know that I am not alone. Beckett Glenn, I love you and your brother with every single beat of my heart. The days have been hard lately but never ever think that I haven't considered that the greatest privilege of my life is being your momma. Tomorrow is another day. And I promise to worry less about what others think and worry more about the little soul that stand before me, even if you are screaming your bloody head off ;)

Clarksville Aquatic Center

Marco Island 2014

update

I will be the first to admit that I am preoccupied with what others think.  I am very easily swayed by the judgements, rather real or imagined, of my peers.  I am certainly my hardest critic, yet it is those other voices, the ones of my peers, that can paralyze me.  As I write this now I find it somewhat laughable that I am still focused on the opinions of others.  After losing Harper, I lost everything.  Almost myself.  I didn't give a damn about one.single.thing.  Nothing mattered.  Certainly not what people thought of me.  Of course looking back now, I have no doubt that those who knew me thought I was crazy.  And I was.  Yet now here I am in a cocoon of sanity, and I drive myself crazy with the little stuff.  And it's all little stuff.
Taking away the binky was an epic fail.  On a scale of one to ten....it was off the charts.  Seriously it didn't even register.  Vacation was wonderful.  The boys had their binkies all through vacation, nothing changed.  When our plane landed in Louisville, we secretly took the binkies away.  We came home, gave the boys a bath and put them in bed. They asked for the binky.  We told them that the airport lost them.  There was no whimpering, rather immediately there was glass breaking, eardrum rupturing screaming.  They were angry.  Pissed.  Beckett demanded that I call the airport and ask them to give them back.  I told him the airport was closed and that we would call in the morning.  They didn't fall asleep that night until close to 3am.  The next day was bad.  Really really bad.  There was no nap taking.  I had two angry tired inconsolable boys.  Bedtime was horrendous.  My children who have never required help falling asleep, not even needing, wouldn't let me leave the room.  Wanted me to lay beside them and hold their hands.  And just when they were drifting off to sleep one would whimper that he needed the binky.  It was close to 2am before they fell asleep. The following day was even worse.  I was functioning on fumes.  And I don't function well like that, to put it mildly, I was a bitch.  Nap time came and they were losing their minds.  Seriously they were delirious.  And hateful.  Hard to imagine, but yes, toddlers can be mean.  I couldn't take it.  So I rang our doorbell and surprise!  The airport delivered the binkies back.  Unfortunately the airplane ran over them, (I cut the tops off).  I gave them to the boys.  At first there was this look of pure bliss, but after they put it in their mouth, they were pissed.  Really really really mad.  So mad that they threw up.  Then I started crying.  That night they fell asleep close to 1am.  The next day I worked.  I must have looked pretty bad because everybody was asking me if I was okay.   No!  I am most certainly not okay.  I'm not sleeping.  My kids aren't sleeping. And as a result of this I have become a bitch.  My children have turned into the spawn of Satan.  And currently I hate my husband.  All because of a binky.
One of the doctors overheard me talking about the binky situation.  He came over to me and asked why was I doing that?  Taking away the binky?  I told him because it was time.  He asked me how did I know it was time?  I told him cause I just knew it was.  I don't know any other 3 1/2 year olds with binkies.  He paused and then he asked me if every single child follows the same path.  Are all children created exactly the same?  Did I walk at the exact same time as my best friend?  Did I pee in the potty at the same age as Mother Theresa?  I didn't answer.  He asked if I was more concerned with what others thought or the actual health of my children.  Because my children need sleep.  When babies sleep, brains grow.  No sleep, no growth.  He then explained that my boys have only lived on this earth for three years.  And in that three years, if I am not there, the only comfort they get is from their binky.  And for no justifiable reason I took that comfort away.  He asked me what I do to relax.  I told him that I read before bed every night.  Imagine now that I couldn't read.  I had nothing to relax me.  I was just supposed to crawl into bed and close my eyes.  And sleep.  No way.  I need that down time. He told me I just took that down time away from them.  He then said that assuming my children have no serious mental deficits that he has never ever seen a high school graduate accept his diploma with a binky in his mouth.  EVER.  He said that the AAP sets guidelines, yet those guidelines are merely a reference.  That every child will develop at his or her own pace.  That there is no right or wrong in timing.  But that offering comfort and security to a child far outweighs the pressure of what society deems acceptable in binky obliteration.
Whew.  I cried.  First I cried because I was relieved.  Secondly I cried because I was too worried about what others thought about my parenting that my boys suffered.  I called Chris.  I told him I wanted to bring the binky back.  But only at bedtime.  Not anytime else during the day.  The binky must stay in their bedroom.  But if they are feeling sad or hurt or scared they can go into their bedroom and feel safe.  Chris said, "I absolutely agree."
That night the boys slept for twelve hours.
Whew.  That was a lot.  And people might think that I coddle my children.  That they are much too big for a binky.  And, let me take a deep breath, that's fine.  I can't worry about what others think, that takes up too much energy.  Energy that should be spent on my boys.  And loving them.  In twenty years in won't matter that they had a binky when they were 3 1/2, but it will matter that I stopped judging myself so that I could love them more.  And in judging myself less, I will no longer be susceptible to the judgement of others.  And in turn hopefully, judge less.  It's all baby steps.  Tiny little leaps that can change this world.  And like I said earlier, it's all small stuff.  Nobody died.