out of the rubble

I had been having a rough few days - the sadness would come and go, but over the last week I had a lot of sad moments among regular life and the joy that I have with family and friends.

But something about seeing a tornado rip through a town that is so much like yours and mine - wow that puts things into perspective, doesn't it.

At this time, from my understanding (as I can not watch much coverage) there are children still unaccounted for.  Lost.  Buried in rubble.  Can you imagine being a parent of one of these babies?  I can not!!  Oh Lord, make your presence known to these families!!  Shine a light onto these children and let them be found.  They are not lost to you.  Let them be found.

Kevin and I prayed this morning after the children left for school, and in his prayer Kevin recounted something we had seen maybe a week ago...a woman who survived after being underneath the rubble of a building for 17 days.

If you believe in the power of prayer, can you join me in asking God for His great favor for these families.  So much devastation and loss.

God bless Oklahoma.

my person

Ever watch Grey's Anatomy?  Then you have heard Meredith and Cristina say, "you're my person."  That one soul who completely gets you, is with you, fights for you, etc.

I want to say my person is Kevin.  And in so many ways he is.  In all of the important ways.  I am completely myself with Kevin, and I can go to him for anything.  But alas, he is a man.

I am blessed with wonderful friends.  I have a few good ones who would be there for me, no matter what.  And we have such fun together, such great conversations that I never want to end.

But really, my person is probably my mom.

My mom would do anything for me, and has.  It was my mom who I had to have when I was in difficult labor with Bailey, and who I asked to come close so I could whisper, "Kill me now...save the baby but kill.me.now."  (Good news is she didn't comply, and instead ordered me to stop being the crazy nut on full Pitocin to get an epidural.  That's another plus - she makes good decisions on my behalf).  She stayed with me after both babies were born and got the flu that struck our house when Tate came home.  Even when she was sick - because she had been here helping me - she tried to do all she could for us in her weakened state.  I can tell her whatever is on my mind, and even if she disagrees she'll say, "oh Brynnie...".  She loves me in spite of, and because of, all the things that make me...me.  She thinks I'm awesome, and it feels great to know that someone in this world thinks you can do anything.

My relationship with my mom is not perfect, and never was.  But she is so important to me and I am so grateful to have her.

If you have a "person" - invest in that relationship.  If you feel like you don't, think through your family and friends and pick someone whom you would like to be that person for.  Spend time together and in time, perhaps your relationship will grow to a place that is really special.

I believe in Jesus and I know I can call on him when I'm in that middle-of-the-night panic and he will comfort me.  But there's something different, and needed, about being able to call someone and hear their voice.  God created us to be in relationship with people and I believe He blesses some relationships to help us in this life.

Thanks Mom, for helping me.  I love you.

forgiveness

Forgiveness is hard, wouldn't you say?  I think it's because we can't forget.  We can't just flip a switch and have a memory erased, as much as sometimes we wish to.  So even though, in good circumstances, we want to forgive, and we even feel compassion, understanding, love and forgiveness...the memory still comes.  Maybe because of the date on the calendar, maybe from a song playing on the radio, maybe as your mind wanders in the quiet still of the morning.

Forgiveness is hard.  It's hard even under the best conditions - whoever has wronged you has asked for your forgiveness, and has asked to bless you going forward.  The memory lingers, and the trust doesn't come easily and without question.  It's work, and sacrifice.  Forgiveness can even come and go...you feel liberated and loving, maybe even for long stretches of time.   But then perhaps the memory comes, the anger and hurt flares, and you realize you need to go back to step 1, in order to forgive, again.

Forgiveness is crazy hard when the situation is worse...nobody wants your forgiveness, or the wrong is ongoing.   Or the person has passed away and there will be little or no"closure".

No advice from my corner.

I think on God's perspective of forgiveness...how we sin every day in many ways, and He forgives us as soon as we whisper the words "please God..." from our lips.  Yes, there may be consequences that could be far reaching even, from our words or actions, but God's heart is loving towards us and forgiveness is freely given.

But He is God and I am not, so it comes much harder for me.

As in all things though, I think forgiveness is a learning process, and perhaps one we will not master in this life.  Maybe, but I don't know.  Maybe some areas of hurt can be completely forgiven, with the memories never causing any pain again.  Maybe the memories even change within the safety of our mind.  For myself I am learning that just in all things, I do not need to be perfect here.  I can struggle with forgiveness, and still love.  My struggle brings me closer to God in a way, because I look up to Him in adoration for what He is capable of doing so selflessly.  Does that make sense?

I am working through this area in my life.  Forgiveness towards others and towards MYSELF.  I have wronged myself, I have let myself down, I have made promises to me that I haven't kept.  Let alone to others.

Forgiveness is hard.  Not forgiving is harder.   I'm working on it.

dragging feet

Why is it when we know exactly what to do, how to do it and how much we need to do it -- we still don't?  I'm not the only one with this problem, or there would be very few smokers, rarely a chunky girl to be seen, and hardly any hardcore drug users and alcoholics.

Addiction.

I am anxious to see in the decades to follow how far researchers and doctors can come within this broad area of study.  Isn't it fascinating?  And terrible.  Why is it that some people can drink a few cocktails, like myself, and enjoy them but then not pick up a drink for months with no desire whatsoever.  But others, with that predisposition perhaps, to alcoholism can not stop...even losing their jobs, families, home, health, etc.  That's a lot to lose!!!  And yet they can't stop, not usually without medical and psychological intervention.

I have realized over the last several years that I have a mediocre addiction to food.  I am not so addicted that I eat bags of something, or weigh 500lbs where my life is a DiscoveryHealth tv show.  I haven't had Dr. Oz show up at my front door.  But there's certainly an addiction here.  A friend of mine and I made a joke about being holed up in a cabin with  our "trainer" (I take an exercise class once a week with a girl who's one tough nugget...but sweet as pie...mmm...pie (Homer Simpson, I digress).  Anyway, that would scare the jip out of me.  Same goes with weight loss surgery - I am thankful it exists, I think it's life saving for many people.  But I can't imagine not getting to eat some of my favorite dishes ever again.

If you have read my blog or know me at all, I make no bones about this area of my life.  I could talk about it in front of a room full of strangers in fact.  (Side note - I had a dream I was a public speaker and I LOVED it.  Adding that to my list of "Somehow/Someway/Someday").   I get more embarrassment walking up to the beach in my tent of a cover up with skinny friends than I do writing on this blog for instance.

Said coverup above.  Hard to see because I'm hiding behind my children.

I know so many women are in my boat...and we want to get out...and we know HOW to get out...but it's SO hard.

The few times in my life I lost a chunk of weight something just clicked in my head and I just did it.  Nothing could tempt me.

The last few months I have been making a few changes.  Exercising more, eating just a tiny bit less.  I've lost a few pounds but with MANY pounds to go, it can feel overwhelming.  I keep trying to remind myself that even just one pound off is one pound off of my ass, my tummy or my chins for crying out loud.

But more than that, I have been trying to get at the root of why this is an area of need for me.  Why is this such a struggle?  I KNOW the blessings that would come from a healthier body and lifestyle - not to mention the example I would set for my girls!

I don't know the answer to that, but I commit today - just today - to pray for God's help to abstain from anything that's unhealthy for me and to exercise.  String a bunch of "todays" together and improved health would surely result.

surprising favors

Last night as Mother's Day came to a close, Kevin was kind enough to give me a backrub.  Ahhhhhh.  I love backrubs - who doesn't?!  Ever since carrying Taylor, even with chiropractic care, my hips still ache sometimes at the end of the day and I think they're even a little misaligned.  Not to mention the extra padding probably doesn't help.  The rub felt so good.  I ooohhed and ahhhed to positively affirm verbally how nice it felt in the hope that he wouldn't stop.  Of course all good things must come to an end, and Kevin started to pull up the sheet to tuck me in.  I said thank you and started to curl up on my side.

But he pulled the sheet back down and gave me another rub.  For several more minutes!!!  In all of our years, I don't remember ever getting a bonus, surprise rub!!  Sure, I constantly ask, "just one more minute?!"  but to be finished and then just give a whole additional rub?

I would not have done this.

So as I started to fall asleep last night, I thought about how good surprise gifts and unexpected favors feel.  Truly, yes?

I have several goals this week.  To finish filing papers.  To coordinate visits and do paperwork for my job.  Make doctor appointments, clean something (everything), cut coupons, make a week of healthy tasty meals.  Care for my girls and Kevin.   Chat with a few friends and exercise a few times.  Lose 30 lbs.

Ok I wish.

Anyway, to my list I am adding "surprising favor."  I don't know what I want to do and for whom, but it is on my heart how wonderful it is to receive something unexpected.

Have a good week friends, and may you receive a surprising favor!

this mother

There's been a trend I've noticed, going around FB.  At least on my FB feed.  There have been really well written articles/blog posts from moms - and dads - that basically say, "Parenting young kids is really hard.  We love them, but it is so hard.  Don't be judgemental, don't tell me to enjoy every second, don't tell me this time when they're young is precious and don't tell me these years will go by in a blink."

As I said, these articles are really well written.  They're humorous, they're TRUE, they're validating and they resonate with moms and dads everywhere that are in the thick of it - the years when little ones are little.

But I'm standing from a different viewpoint.  My view is of two big brown eyed girls that with every week seem to somehow grow taller.  My view looking down is of a girl who loves to snuggle me, and thank God still does, but her legs stretch long and hit the floor as she tries to curl up on me.  We cling to each other, desperate to make the snuggle work, but uncurl arms and legs after only a few minutes because the puzzle pieces have changed.  I stand, suggesting we lay on her bed instead and though she still asks to be carried, I make her walk or get on my back because I just can't lift her.  Reading books we now sit side by side and most often, I am read to instead.  I remember like yesterday picking them up in Sunday school and although we had only been apart an hour, they'd run to me yelling "Mommy!" and jump in my arms.  I marveled at their joy of simply seeing me, and noticed that many children didn't scream, jump and run.  They rarely do anymore - now they ask for a few more minutes and then take off with friends.

They are still young.  They still wave to me from their seats on the bus in the morning, Tate blowing kisses and signing "I love you."  They still love tuck-ins, back scratches as they watch a movie, going to playgrounds and the pool together, playing a game on the floor.  They still color me pictures and leave me lovenotes.  They are still young, they are still young.  I tell myself this all the time.

Perhaps if we hadn't lost a baby last year I'd feel a bit differently.  But as my view is changing, I can't help but feel my heart break a little as these young years wane.   I can't explain exactly why, because YES I do remember how difficult those years were.  I remember peeing with a child on my lap.  I remember peeing without a child on my lap, only to emerge from the bathroom and find that one of them had gotten into my food coloring and emptied all tubes on herself and my kitchen.  I remember vaccines, doctor appointments, "I wish I knew what is wrong!"  I remember wanting to choke the Wiggles and yet thank them for entertaining my girls so I could clean, I remember my house never being clean, I remember feeling trapped within my house that we couldn't afford to do a thing to because I stayed home.  I remembering begging God to PLEASE have her STOP CRYING, I remember begging God for sleep, I remember begging God that they wouldn't cry at MOPS so I could have a hot breakfast and talk with friends without kids climbing up my legs.   I remember begging God that we could make it through the day.  I remember.

But...I also remember little voices and little hands.  Their trust in me, and that I was their world.   I remember how it feels to nurse a baby and have them look up at you as they pull on your hair or squeeze your fingers.  I remember story time at the library and Barnes and Noble.  I remember standing at the bottom of the slide feeling such pride as the big girl (oh but so little and I didn't know it!) made her way down without her sister for the first time.  I remember play dates and long phone calls with friends to help me make it through just a few more hours until Daddy gets home.  I remember bouncing with a baby in a sunbonnet in the pool as she splashed her dimpled hands in the water, screeching with joy.   I remember Bailey's phase of calling everyone "honey" or "sweetie" and how she'd hug and kiss everything, even garbage cans.  I remember our first ride through Small World and that we had to ride it what felt like 10 times in a row every day while there in Disney.  I remember Tate on Kevin's shoulders and Bailey on Poppy's as they saw fireworks above Cinderella's castle.  I remember their awe, and it was pure magic just like the Disney commercials say.  I remember.

If there's one thing I've learned from being a mother is that it's complicated.  Just when you get the hang of one thing, something else pops up.  You can feel 10 different ways all at once.  Yes, I remember those hard years and there are things I don't miss about them.  But so many things I do miss.  I am so thankful my girls are growing, and truly very healthy considering Bailey's CF.  But as I checked on them last night, both long in their beds, I wished to go back, just for a minute.  I do wish I had done some things different.  Played more on the floor, counted to ten before becoming unglued, cuddling for longer before sprinting out to my spot on the couch next to Kevin to watch television that didn't feature theme songs I couldn't get out of my head for days.


You see, it's all true.  The articles that are loved by preschool parents everywhere, in agreement that these years are so hard and do not tell me I will miss this or I will hurt your face.    

But I do miss this.

EVEN THIS.

She needed me to hold her.  She still needs me, but not like this.

So I guess what I'm saying is, forgive me and don't hurt my face when I look longingly at you as you hold a preschooler by the hand, even as she's trying to run the other way and you're also trying to juggle holding a diaper bag and a crying infant.  Yes, I'm jealous of you even still.  And I get that you're jealous of me, with my ability to earn some money again, have hot coffee and have time to myself.  I get it.  

So perhaps, I will try to remember harder how it feels to be sleep deprived, hungry for food not eaten over the sink, and thirsty for friendship that is unconditional.  If you will try to remember that these years are precious, and they are a gift.  Some women would give their right arm to be in your shoes.  

Motherhood is hard.  

The End.

Happy Mother's Day.

hard won

If you know me, or know my kid Taylor, or used to read my blog back when...you know my 2nd daughter - aka Tater Tot or Tate - has SPD.  Sensory Processing Disorder.  She is 7, and was diagnosed at 3 years old after 3 years of WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS KID?!  Seriously - an ENT, allergist, x-ray, numerous doctors and therapists didn't know.  Some said nothing, some said autism (including one psychiatrist), some said she was just a mad girl...but mama knew.  I knew she had something wrong, but everything that we were told just wasn't "it." After a free seminar about sensory disorders, BAM, here we go.  I found the seminar, at Sensational Kids right here in Marlton, after googling "behavioral help for toddlers."  I listened to a woman describe kids that were just like Taylor and as I cried tears of gratitude that "it" had a name, I remember feeling overwhelmed, scared, thankful, sad.  All I wanted was for my kid to be happy and healthy.  I wanted her to have friends, be kind and gentle hearted, love God and serve others.  I wanted her to marry and have children and let me babysit and sometimes we could leave the kids with their dad and go shopping.  Sitting at that seminar, I didn't get that far ahead but I felt like my heart - which had been hanging in limbo kind of waiting for her to snap out of it I guess - broke a little.  I wondered what this meant for Taylor.

If you're not following along because of the million different emotions I was feeling at one time - well, what can I say.  I'm a woman and I'm a mother.  Welcome to complicated.

Anyway, fast forward through 2 years of special education preschool, private therapy and therapy in school, fast forward through special ed kindergarten and an inclusion class for first grade, fast forward through teachers and therapists that I will forever be indebted to and love, fast forward through a sensory "diet", hours of prayer and teaching Taylor "the long way" how to love others and be compassionate, patient and sweet...fast forward and here we are.

She rocks my world, friends.  Rocks it.  If you know her, you know what I mean.  If you don't know her, you're missing something amazing.

Last night as I tucked Taylor in - which used to involve brushing her body with a special brush to desensitize her and singing her no less than 11 lullabies (seriously, in the same order every time) to calm her  - my baby, my Tater Tot, clutched my arm and said, "You're a good mother" as she looked into my eyes.

Today, at the aquarium for a class trip (which previously she would have been totally stressed over with the noise, smell, different routine etc) she skipped with the other kids and held her best friend's hand.  She ate at the table and offered to share.

These moments are hard won.  These moments are precious.

These moments make the other moments - and of course there are still the OTHER moments - worth it.