Family Vacation to Marco Island

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Ramblings

I need to write more. Writing sustains me in a way that little else does. My fingers dance over the keyboard with a choreographed movement that is dictated from deep within. And yet I've e haven't been dancing that routine. Certainly I'm tired. The infant stage was hard, but the toddler stage? It's.A.Lot. The boys are both fiercely independent and incredibly needy. One minute they are disobeying me as I tell them not to run in the parking lot and the next moment they won't let me put them down. It's an emotional roller coasts. And I'm simply the passenger on the train that they're driving. Sigh. Logically I know I need to take the wheel. Be in control. But sometimes I'm just to tired. If they refuse to eat anything but cheese puffs....so be it. At least they are eating. But this discipline is hard. I've said numerous times to other mothers that I was prepared for the demands of parenthood, but I was completely unprepared, taken aback, at a loss, and overwhelmed by discipline. I'm not above spanking. I was spanked and so was Chris.  And it was effective. But what do you do when your son hits your other son? You tell him that hitting is wrong, after you've spanked him?! Kind of hypocritical. But still, I spank....because its effective. Except for the fact that I feel worse afterwards than they do. I however am NOT okay with somebody else spanking my child. Only Chris or myself have both that privilege and responsibility. And it's a great responsibility. I want to raise my boys to be good Christian men. With open hearts and minds. With compassion toward people, animals, and nature. I want them to respect themselves and others. To accept that they will always have what they need...but getting what they want is something that they must work toward. And when they achieve that goal...how great they will feel. But what if I mess up? Now? What if I don't discipline enough? Or too much? Sometimes when I think too much about the future, it prohibits me from savoring the present. So I just need to take a breath. And realize that this very moment, the trials of daily life, is a gift. Hence..,the present :)
And if I could bottle up their voices, their high pitched tinny animated and angelic voices, bursting forth with the most innocent yet deliberate observations and statements....I would. And I would press repeat over and over again.

a visit with Gma and Gpa

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What they said....

Nothing major. Just wanted to remember what the babies are saying. Oh. How I wish I could bottle up their voices, full of innocence and wonderment...and slowly dole it out over the course of my life. Similar to a jewelry box with the dancing ballerina, every time you lift the lid, the magic unfolds:)
Beckett. Constantly says, "I love you, mommy; I need a kiss; Just one more; For a minute, ok?; Oh my gosh; Umm, I'm not sure."
Blake. Everything he says comes out as a long run on sentence. "Iwanaball; Iwannaplayhoop; iwanbinkiewoobie; what; and oh boy!"

Mother's Day 2013

spring is here!

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Miscellaneous

 The days are passing so quickly...I want to make sure these moments that make up our days are not forgotten. Beckett, you are....everywhere. You fluctuate from being fiercely independent to completely dependent on me. You test your boundaries every.single.day. Currently your favorite pastime is climbing the kitchen counters. You will walk across the stove (eek) and say, "excuse me, mommy." When I lift you down, you become completely irrational. You are obsessed with bumps. And that does not make for a good combination in a parking lot. If I take my eyes off you for one second, you dart across the lot to speed bumps. You are so expressive. With both your eyes and your voice. In a typical day these expressions will come out of your little mouth: "Mommy, come here." "Mommy, watch me." "Oh no!" "Shoot." "Excuse me." "Where did it go?" "I go outside for a minute, ok?" "Mommy, I come with me." "Peace out." "Look at me, I'm climbing." And finally, "mommy, watch the cars go over the bumps." Honestly, you never stop talking. When we go out people will comment on how well you talk. You are just as stubborn as you are sweet. Especially when we are saying our prayers at bedtime. You will want me to hold you and you will press your forehead into mine...almost as if you are trying to tell me just how much you love me. And Blake. Sweet Blake. This has been a long.bad.winter. It has been horrible. You were diagnosed with ITP on January 6. And since then our lives have been turned upside down. Initially we were going to the doctor every other day to get your blood counts. And you were so good. You never even cried when the nurse would stick your finger. While dealing with the ITP, you also were dealing with asthma. You are a bad asthmatic:( and we have to be super aggressive in treating your asthma because you can't handle a serious exacerbation with your ITP. So you have been on massive doses of steroids. You have been getting breathing treatments every four hours around the clock. You don't sleep well because you can't stop coughing. Watching you work so hard to breathe makes me cry. I wonder all the time what the future holds for you. You miss out on a lot...and so does your brother because of your asthma. Yesterday we took you to the chiropractor for the first time. I know it's pretty unconventional, but we have to get you off the steroids. The steroids have weakened your immune system, give you an insatiable appetite, and make you super hyper. But the worst thing about the steroids is the fact that they cause a false positive regarding your ITP. Initially steroids were used to treat ITP because it would increase the platelet count. But it doesn't treat the disease. So we haven't even had your counts done in almost a month. You have to be off the steroids for at least a week before your counts would be accurate. You can't even last two days without the steroids. To say it has been hard would be an understatement. Yet for the most part, you are still such a sweet baby. Still obsessed with hoop. You are talking so much more....at times though it is still very difficult to understand you. One of my favorite things is how you wave. Not a traditional wave. I love it. And I love the way you say yes. It's simply just a nod and a hum. It makes me smile. And I love the way you put your "woobie" on your head and the way you stroke your little fingers against whatever thing soft they might encounter. Your courage amazes me. We pray daily for this ITP to end. You won't be considered in remission until January 6 of this coming year. If at the end of this year, your platelets are still low...we have two options: a spleenectomy or a bone marrow transplant. Neither of those make me happy:( yet I know that you will bounce back, like you always do. You are a strong little boy.