Today I woke up feeling like a chunky monkey. I suppose it could be partly because it's that lovely bloatable time of the month, but I also think it's because I've been carbo-loading due to the fact that I am starting the South Beach Diet on Monday. I was super crabby because the three shirts that fit me were dirty and we were going to a birthday party for a little girl in Rori's Sunday School class. I feel like I'm always schlumpy when we get together with this family because I have few clothes that I'm comfortable in. My shirts are either too tight or too big. I'm stuck in that in between sizes abyss. So, I did what any rational person would do--I went to Target and bought a bunch of new shirts. (with my birthday money that I had been hoarding). I brought them home without trying them on because there wasn't time for that. Surely 50% of them would work. I tried on the first one...it fit, but it made me look tired and pasty. Not good for my fragile ego. I threw aside the next one that was the same color. I tried on one I was really excited about. It was a size Large. I'm guessing it was marked Large if you were a 14 year old Chinese gymnast trying to pass for 16! Good Lord was it tight. I was about ready to cry when finally I found one that fit. Sadly it was a peace sign with an American flag. I really didn't want to look like I was trying to make a political statement, but oh well.



By now I was feeling like the most unattractive person on earth. We had a bit of time before we needed to leave so I went downstairs with Liam to rock him while he watched a video. Rori looked at me and said, "You're so pretty, mama." And that's all that mattered. Bill took this picture of me and Liam. Looking at it, I see a mom that loves her sweet little boy so much that she would sit and watch the "Hairbrush" song on VeggieTales as many times as he wants. And frankly, he doesn't care if she has 3 shirts--oh wait, now it's 4-- that fit.

Good News!

My nephew, Noah, is the sweetest little boy you've ever met. He lets me hold him, he's always smiling, I've never seen him melt down. My boy, Liam, only lets ME hold him, goes from smiling to wailing as fast as you can say, "no", and melts down at least 5 times a day. I'm waiting for the day when he gets really mad in the car and beans me in the head with his toy cell phone. Pretty much, if you don't believe in Original Sin, you haven't met my boy. However, I got really good news tonight. I found out Liam is not going to be a s erial ki ller (typos intentional so no creepy person googles and finds my blog)! Yay! I went to dinner with some old friends who both have boys about Liam's age and their boys are the exact same way! So, Noah is just extra sweet, and Liam is normal. Whew, that's a load off my mind.

But--really, I kind of already knew about the s eria l k ille r thing--just look at this face! And he let me put him in that :)

Super Mom

No, that is not me that I'm talking about in the title! It's what I aspire to, but will probably never be. It's not in my nature. I don't understand how mom's do it. They're showered with make-up on, their kids are happy, their houses are clean, and their dinners have 3 courses all homemade. I actually know people like this--some are good friends (ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but you know who you are ;) ). I just want to know how they do it. A typical day for me involves getting up when the kids do (I need my sleep and I'm not giving this one up). I give everyone breakfast and get them dressed. Liam goes down for a nap and I have breakfast and get dressed. I play with Rori. Then Liam gets up. We do some outing or something, have lunch, everyone goes down for a nap. I work out--not that it makes a difference. (By the way, how long can I call it baby weight--til Liam is 18)? Maybe I shower, if there's time. Otherwise I stew in my own filth until Bill gets home. I don't know how other moms shower, but I can't shower when Liam is up. He would inevitably injure himself trying to climb into the tub, or toilet, or bonk his head on the door--all while wailing because I'm not out with him. When Bill gets home, we all play together or one of us tidy's up a bit, make dinner with someone climbing up my leg and someone else wailing (sometimes it's me, sometimes Bill, but usually one of the kids), put the kids to bed and then crash on the couch. I just don't have the energy to then vacuum, dust, or some other nonsense when I can snuggle with Bill.
How do you ladies do it?! I know I need to sacrifice something so that I can keep up with the dust bunnies and cat hair. Do I sacrifice the time I play with the kids? Do I sacrifice my time with Bill? Do I just live in squalor? Any advice would be greatly appreciated :) I just really want to find balance. I know that my time at home with the kids is short, but I also want to teach them to be more organized and tidy than I am--so I obviously need to set the example. I'm trying, really, but goodness, I swear random little toys and stuff jump out of the woodwork and spread themselves all over the floor. There are days when I want to walk around with a garbage bag and throw everything out. I've actually done that, but somehow everything multiplies behind my back.
Oh well, to quote Scarlett O'Hara, "I'll think about that tomorrow. Tomorrow is, afterall, another day!"

Bearing Fruit

I have a revelation yesterday. It's been four and a half years since we lost Faith. I haven't been able to really open up about her until now. I have rarely talked about her or what happened. I didn't know if anyone still cared; I didn't want to make people uncomfortable, and frankly, it was still just too hard. God has really been working on my heart this summer. I thought that I had come to acceptance a long time ago, but I don't know that I really did until recently. I feel like I am finally bearing fruit--seeing how God has worked through our tragedy and continues to be who He says He is. This brings me to my revelation. My parents bought me a peach tree to plant in Faith's memory. Every year the birds and squirrels pick the peaches by June--while they're the size of a walnut. I've always been disappointed and have just assumed that it will never bear fruit. This is the first year that the peaches have stayed on. I'm not trying to be philosophical but I don't think it's a coincidence that Faith's tree bears fruit the same summer that I have.

John 15:8 "This is to my Father's glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples."

Faith--another perspective

In my posting about our baby Faith, I mentioned that my dad read something at the burial that my mom had written. I wanted to share it with you because my mom is such a gifted writer. She's much more eloquent than I :)

FAITH


Children are a gift from God and we received that gift for a brief moment in time. Faith Patrick was born at 19 ½ weeks. Something had happened to the amniotic fluid and it was leaking. She could not develop lungs properly and infection had started with in Jaime. Any life or death decisions were taken away, from Bill & Jaime, thank God. Jaime’s body started labor on its own and dilation occurred.
And we can say that God is good.

She was born all at once, our Faith, all whole and sweet and beautiful. With ten tiny fingers and toes, she was delicate, like fine porcelain. She was fearfully and wonderfully made. And we saw her body and held her. But her soul had already been whisked away on the wings of her angel.
And we can say that God is good.

Faith is believing in what you cannot see. We believe Faith is in heaven – whole and well and strong. She has her Daddy’s nose and curls. She has her Mommy’s big brown eyes, long legs and fingers. She even has her Auntie Jenna’s grecian toes. She is up there now, wearing a pink tutu, toe shoes and soccer socks and she is twirling and dancing for Our Father the King. And He is smiling at her and she is laughing. She is waiting there for us and we shall see her in all her glory. Our Faith who we cannot see. . . But in the fullness of time we shall see. And so we wait for that glorious day.

Time will heal our broken hearts. But a break always leaves a scar. Our scar is the tiny footprint of our Faith and she will be in our hearts forever.

Faith's footprintsI really wanted to share them with you, because while she was tiny, she was real, and whole, and beautiful.

One of those days

Yesterday started as one of those days...you know the kind--where you want somebody else to take care of your kids and you go get a massage. For whatever reason both kids took turns crying, sometimes together, sometimes I think there were more than 2 of them. So I figured we should get out of the house. I do try to do something with them everyday because winter is coming and we're all going to get cabin fever. I called my grandma and asked if we could come over and feed the ducks with her. Unfortunately she was not feeling well. No matter, I'd find us some ducks we could feed...Are there no ducks in our area?!!! Poor kids. I packed them a lunch and we drove to the pond where Bill proposed to me and it was full of Canadian geese. I'm scared of geese--they bite. Or so I've heard. So we drove to the prairie path where I knew there was a pond. Fortunately the kids put up with it well. I thought I saw some ducks. We got out of the car with our lunches and our hot dog buns for the ducks. We dodged the many poopies that were in the grass and we found...more geese!

Since we'd been driving for a while, I decided we'd sit at the dirty picnic table and eat lunch. The kids ate pretty well, while I told them not to touch the table. Liam got down and tried to pick up empty beer bottle caps and play in the dirt. I threw out the garbage and turned around and they were both digging in the dirt. I felt hot and tired and wanted to just go home, but I felt bad for dragging them around to play in poopy grass and dirt. So we packed up again and drove to a playground.

We ended up having a very nice day at the playground. The kids got hot and tired quickly so we went through McD's and got them milkshakes and Miss Rori wanted a cheeseburger and fries. Which she scarfed down even though she had eaten her whole sandwich just 2 hours earlier. Liam was so hot that he wouldn't stop sucking on his milkshake even for a french fry! The kid never turns down fries! It warmed my mommy heart to watch his red sweaty face just suck down that milkshake. It brings joy to my heart to see my kids enjoy food! It ended up a nice afternoon after all.

Then, evil facebook gave my computer some horrible virus and I proceded to spend the rest of the evening trying to get rid of it. That made me very crabby so I began to lose patience with the children. I think they felt like they were having one of those days--where they wish someone else was taking care of them and that mommy would go to a spa :) Bill and his dad were working on the floor in the living room and I ended up losing my temper because it was bathtime and Rori was naked and Liam wouldn't let us in the bathroom--he's a strong kid :) So I yelled. I hate doing that in front of the in-laws. I want them to think that I have it together, I'm a Kool-Aid mom. But no, I'm sure Bill's dad left feeling sorry for Bill. I hate that. Oh well, next time I'll put on an apron and wow them with my cooking and cleanliness, or so I like to dream.

Anyway, so that is why I don't have a new nice post today. But stay tuned, because I have a special one that I will post tonight or tomorrow.

Blessed Again...

I was on my way home from the in-laws today to pick up some of my diet cherry coke to bring back--I can't have nachos without it, anyway, I heard Matt Redman singing, "Blessed be Your Name." on the radio. It brought me back to the Steven Curtis Chapman concert. He opened his concert with that song. I knew he really believed it--you could hear that he was a broken man when he sang, "Blessed be Your Name, on the road marked with suffering, though there's pain in the offering, blessed be Your Name." I really listened to the words and then it says, "You give and take away, but my heart will CHOOSE to say, blessed be Your Name."

Walking with Christ isn't always easy--it is a choice. When God deals us a hand that we didn't see coming is when we can get to see what our faith is made of. In an earlier post I had wondered if I had failed the trial that God had given me. But now, I don't think that I did. Could I have been a better witness? Sure, but you know what--God gave and took away, and I still am choosing to say, "Lord, blessed be your name!" And you know what God has given me in return? Well, today I was reflecting on how much God has blessed me with. I have a wonderful husband and two great children. But I also have a sister that I don't think I could be closer to, without being twins, parents that are more than parents--they are an example of a godly marriage, and wonderful friends. Though I am not going to name you all, I am so grateful for being able to pour my heart out to you, be real with you, and I don't know how I would have made it through the last several years without each of you. Some of you have cried with me, some have laughed with me, but all of you have been there walking beside me. For this I am so thankful--and I know that the Lord knew who I needed and when. So, thank you! I love you all!