puerile human

My utter human ness is shining through like an exploding nova today. I spent half the day obsessing over a sweater that I found a snag in the other day that I tried to repair with Frey Block. It didn't turn out well, and of course it was all over the back of my favorite EVER sweater! BIG FAT WHITE Frey Block stains! Stupid stuff. I got it all out by lunch, (soaked in rubbing alcohol for 45 minutes and then picked the rest out with tweezers and brushed out with Elijah tiny toothbrush) but not without neglecting to play with my children or even to be patient with their desires to have me interact with them. To even further my frustration with the day I woke up with my STUPID left ear all stuffed up like it does. This is the second time in 4 days that this has happened and my fears got the better of me with it today. I know fear is straight from the pit of hell, but knowing that doesn't make them any less real in my head or any easier to waylay. I soaked my face in tears and buried in in my arms after shutting myself in the laundry room while the boys were watching a movie this evening. I begged and pleaded with God to take this damn ear issue away from me, whatever the heck it is! I had what I think was as close to a "drop attack" as I've ever had today while I was sitting out on the back deck holding Joel. Praise the Lord I was sitting and also that it was mere seconds long. It could have been a mess had I been standing up. For those of you are completely lost as to what I'm talking about - I may have Meniere's disease (a disease that completely, over time, destroys the inner ear - the center for balance control and hearing). When the disease runs it's full course, all hearing in the effected ear is lost and the balance control center on that side of the brain is destroyed. It seemed to have improved immensely with the gluten free diet I started a year ago, and I was even gaining back some of the hearing I thought had been permanently lost, but just over this past 5 days it's been creeping it's way back into my life. I can't, of course, say this with all certainty, but it sure feels that way. Satan, dirty wanton, is relentless in this area of my life. He plants all sorts of fears in my head about me becoming completely incompacitated (as many Meniere's sufferers do) and unable to raise my boys. He quietly speaks to me that I will be an invulid, laid up in bed all day while some other woman is paid to raise my children for me because I can't even stand upright anymore (some Meniere's sufferers are unable to walk due to the constant lack of balance once the disease has progressed far enough). He speaks that I will become nothing but a burden on my husband and cause strain and exhaustion to the family members who are slated to care for my inept self. I know, I know, speak against it. Believe me, I DO! It's a constant spiritual fight for me and I'm just plain worn out. It's easy for me to forget what it's like to be attacked when I can hear and my balance is pretty good, but when my ear gets all full feeling like this and I can hear hardly anything out of it, the panic sets in! WHAT IF??!??! I don't even know if the issue is coming back. I don't even know if I actually have Meniere's. It may just be Labrynthitis (infection of the inner ear - symptoms are pretty much the same, just not nearly as distructive). Whatever it is, I HATE it! I don't have cancer and I'm not dying. I'm blessed beyond measure with 3 healthy boys and a husband who truly adores me for who I am. Yet, in my childish humaness I don't even so much as glance over that before just heading full on into dispair and obsession about what is wrong with ME! Why ME?! Why NOW?!? Why THIS?!?! JUST. HEAL. ME!!!! PLEASE! We are called to rejoice in all circumstances. Clearly I haven't figured it out yet. Puerile human!

Gimme gimme gimmme, I NEEED, I NEEED!

The decision has been made - we will not be saving money to go home for Christmas. Josh made the call and finalized it in his mind and has stood fast beside it even with my persistent doubting and questioning. My heart is having a hard time with the idea of missing out on Christmas with his family this year. ALL of his family will be there. All the syblings, all their spouses and that beautiful little niece of mine that we've only seen once, they'll all be there. And my sister-in-law Jennifer with her baby belly that will be quite pronounced by then. I never really stopped to think how much of a spiritual experience it is for me to spend time with his family over Christmas. They have truly been more of a blessing to me as an in-law family than I think most can imagine an in-law family being. I always feel spiritually fed coming away from visits with his parents and syblings and to miss out on the makes my heart physically hurt - if thats possible. I nearly broke into tears several nights ago while skyping with my mother-in-law, knowing that we wouldn't be seeing them any time soon, knowing that everyone else will be in their cozy home fellowshipping with eachother - but not us. Even now I just read a comment from my sister-in-law on one of my facebook pictures of the boys and how excited she is to see them at Christmas. Now I'm crying. I'm telling you people, it honesly PHYSICALLY hurts! All I can think about is my husband getting home tonight so I can ask him just ONE.MORE.TIME! ARE YOU SURE?!?!?! I MEAN, FOR SURE FOR SURE?! That really is ALL I want for Christmas!

My husband never hesitates to tell that I am usually the one that feels the Holy Spirit's leading when something is coming about - whatever it may be. I haven't really felt it this time around, so submitting to my husband (as I am called to do!) has been a true challenge for me when it comes to this decision he's made. We've been doing the "Radical" series at church. We know something is coming down the pike. Something HUGE that will "radically" change our lives, but we just don't know what. I equate the feeling to being on the delivery bed just waiting to find out what my baby boy is going to look like. The shakes set in from the rush of hormones, maybe a wave of nausea, and then....it's time to push! Huff and puff and then if all goes well - pause - breath - there he IS! A flood of blessing and emotions I've never understood before. Beauty and pain all mixed together. Sacrifice and a blessing all bound up in this tiny screaming package of half of me and half of the one grown man on earth I adore the most. It took patience, sacrifice, time, and trust - what a gift! Thats about how I feel right now. Like I'm holding my knees and waiting to get the go ahead to push - to move forward with pure abondonment. (I think I used that term the right way....?) I DON'T HAVE A CLUE what God is up to, but we both know it's going to be something huge!

We scrimp and save for something we want. This time around - tickets for Christmas which would cost us upwards of $2000. To me, and I think to my husband spending $2000 to spend a week with family is MOST definitely worth it! We cut our budget back, have forfeited dates (which cuts out the recreation and childcare budget each month), have settled with putting Judah in clothes that are generally to big for him so we don't have to buy him new ones as well as sacrificing many other comforts - all so we could go home for Christmas. This is where the conviction comes in - for my husband right now more than me. We'll cut our budget WAY back to save money for something WE want, but we can't remember a time when we've truly sacrificed any of our budget/area of spending to provide something for someone that TRULY needs! NEED is a very subjective term. I feel like I NEEEEEED to go home for Christmas. My heart truly feels that way, but I've never EVER really been in NEEED of something in my entire life, not anything that money can buy. We've never be in want. We are blessed financially ($60,000 a year is definitely in the top 5% of the world's wealth for a family), though we often find ourselves wishing we had more to spend on this or that - a play house for the boys, a trailer for our van, more woodworking tools for the garage (I often drool over tools when making a visit to Lowes:), a more reliable car for Josh, and the list continues....and continues. So, we're scrimping and saving for whatever God will have us do with that money. He doesn't need it, thats true, but neither do we. If we can cut our budget that easily, it's money we don't NEED. We are in that waiting period - we're waiting for the go ahead to push - to move forward. It's hard for me to stop questioning, "but WHY CHRISTMAS!?!?!" Why not some other time of year. How about we just do the Christmas thing and THEN we can scrimp and save for someone else. Gimme gimme gimme, I NEEED, I NEEED! ("What About Bob" reference for any of you who have a refined taste in classic movies! :)

God gave me a really incredible opportunity today to GIVE to someone else. I didn't WANT to, I wanted the thing for myself, but she truly needed it. He put me in a position where I could have easily chosen to purchase what I had and bring it home for my own. I MOST definitely could have used it and reeeeally wanted it, but I didn't NEED it, and she did. Thats all I will say on that. He gave me just a teeny taste of what is ahead. A VERY small scale example of what he holds for our family in the future. I recognized it immediately and it's begun my journey on healing my heart of the ache of not buying plane tickets home for Christmas. It's begun me on my journey of undoubtedly trusting that though there will be great sacrifice involved, obeying, following and living in the fullness God leads us to holds promise to transform the way we view HIM, ourselves, and those he's called us to serve, whoever they may be. He is going to do mighty things - waiting to push!

The World Spins Madly On

My dad's mom went to see Jesus face to face yesterday. What a sight she gets to see! Our meager human brains have no way to comprehend what sort of elation that moment will hold. As I mowed the yard today my mind replayed memories of Nanny. The way she smelled. The sound of her laugh, I can hear it like she's sitting here with me. The way she wore sterling and turquoise jewelry with nearly ever outfit. Her stunning blue eyes in stark contrast with her black hair. Her house down my the riverside in Douglas, Wy. The apple butter on toast that she always served us for a snack when we were little. The way she called me "darlin' ". The sound of her voice when she called me, "Becky buttons". The crazy amount of bags she took with her wherever she went. The way she loved "Papa" more than life itself, even after he died. I barely knew Nanny, but I will always be sadened by the fact that she is no longer with us. It's strange how the human brain works. My love for Nanny, my desire for her to still be living - just to know that she is still living is driven almost entirely by sentimentality. I didn't know her heart. I didn't know her struggles. I didn't know her deepest desires. I didn't even know her personality. I haven't seen Nanny for 6 years, yet I was deeply saddened to hear she had passed. She is my blood, so I love her. Her legacy lives on in an ever growing family. She is the matriarch of a family who's members live on to praise Jesus on this side of life, because she took the time to introduce Him to each of her children as she mothered them. Her children rose up and called her blessed. Now, she is basking in the King's glory with her oldest daughter and the husband she loved so entirely. Her children call her blessed. Her grandchildren call her blessed. Her great grandchildren call her blessed. She is a blessed woman, indeed! Enjoy Jesus, Nanny. We will be with you again one day.

Wait! Other people grow up too?

I didn't figure on getting all sentimental about Elijah starting preschool this fall. I've been waiting with anticipation for this day to come since we moved to Florida. I kept telling myself, "One year...", "less that a year...", "just a couple of months!..." Now, it's.....tomorrow. He starts his long journey of school. Tomorrow! I remember preschool! That means he's developing long term memories of his life right now. I knew that, but me being able to remember preschool and him just starting preschool makes that so much more concrete in my brain. He will remember things from right now! Josh and I hadn't mentioned school to him yet. I told him this morning and it's clear the concept is foreign to him. Partly because he has no way to understand the days on a calendar. I told him he'd go on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday. And, partly because he has no idea what actual "school" is. He knows kids go to school and he's uber excited about being a kid that goes to school, but the only "school" he can relate to is "sunday school". His preschool is at the church we attend, so it will be interesting to see if there's a big difference in his brain between Sunday school and Preschool. From 9:30 to 2:30 three days a week I will be back down to just 2 kiddos. I won't have my helper around. Judah sort of helps, but he's certainly not capable of helping like Elijah does. Judah will lose his playmate for those several hours on those 3 days. The house will be considerably more quiet.

Let me remind you: I didn't plan on getting sentimental or emotional.

I'm not sure what to expect. I'm not sure if I'll cry or if I won't. He's going to LIVE for school! I know he's going to love it, but will I?

I put Joel and Judah down for their naps and came back downstairs to tuck Elijah in. He had turned the little reading lamp on and was reading a book when I walked in. He hid behind it just enough so that all I could see was his smiling mouth. He peeked from behind it with the familiar look of questioning. I said, "nope. It's naptime. No book." He said, "yes mommy" and layed down. I shut the door behind me and took the laundry I was holding to the laundry room. Why no book? Because laundry is more important? It's his LAST day before he starts the countless years of education. I started a load of laundry and went back in to the room. He was almost asleep, but I said, "Ok, lets read THIS book!" I expected an excited smile, but he just sat up in a groggy stooper and responded, "ok". We finished the book and as we layed on the bed and talked about his first day of school my head took journeys back through the 4 years we've had him. And now, as I sit and type this and recall those memories the tears are forcing their way out. Our first day home from the hospital and how I sat on the couch with him, clueless as to what came next. Sitting in the grass in our yard in Kirksville and exploring the taste of sticks and leaves - 9 months old. Laughing hysterically at our cat, Dwight, for no apparent reason - 1 year old. Learning to climb through the railings of our stairway in Colorado to surpass the baby gate - 18 months. Visiting Daddy at Eglin and having the worst 2nd birthday ever during that 2 week visit. Loving on his new baby brother, Judah, and adapting to him better than either Josh or I expected - 2 years 4 month. Turning 3 while all of us had raging fevers, body aches, chills and bowel issues. Welcoming baby brother #2 in to the world just one day before his 4th birthday (a fact he doesn't know yet). I have actual pictures of a few of these memories, but they are all as vivid as a photo hanging on the wall in front of me. He's 4. He's going to school tomorrow. He's growing up, and I've missed more of it than I like to admit. For you new mothers, hold them tight. Love them while you have them. No, he's not off to college this fall, and yes he's still a little boy, but there's few words that come to mind to describe the desperation I feel to rewind and redo some of the last 4 years. More books at naptime. More patience. More grace. Less irritability. Less, "not now, Bud." I have 14 more years (more or less) to love on him while he's in my home, but I will NEVER get the 4 years back that have passed! And he's off to school tomorrow.

God bless me! I have THREE boys!

During my preparation for bed tonight, I picked up the roll of toilet paper sitting on the counter in our upstairs bathroom (yes, putting it on the holder is entirely too much work) and one whole section of it is swollen out with something wet. I dont think it was like that before Elijah peed before bed... bummer. The worst part, I used it anyway. This is how desensitized being a mother has made me. I shuttered when I picked it up, because of course I picked up the nast wet part, and then sat on the pot weighing my options. I could either reach over and open the vanity drawer to see if there was another roll (but that would require reaching, of course) or I could just work around the wet spot. I chose the lazy route and used the tp anyway. Conveniently the wet spot all stuck together so as I unrolled the amount I needed there were little half moon shapes missing every now and then along the edge where the wet spot tore off. That doesn't mean some of the stuff I used wasn't wet. It was, but not AS much as could have been.

The boys and I were skyping with my mom and little niece, Selah, today out on the deck. The boys were in their swim trunks and Elijah said quite point blank to my mom, "If I stand up you can see my penis!" I assured him that this wasn't true, because his trunks were covering it, and besides that it was quite inappropriate! The following sentence out of his mouth was regarding a diving toy rocket Josh bought him for his pool. He looked at "Nanny" on the computer and said, "I can shoot this rocket up in the air and it will KILL (said with Elijah's strange accent: "keeeel" somebody!"

After this encounter the boys swam for a bit longer and we all headed inside to towel them off and get them dressed. As SOON as I pulled Judah's swim trunks off his hand went straight to his privates. He mashed them into oblivian as I got his diaper ready.

These are the obsessions of my little boys. Penis and "keeeeling" somebody.

Overdrive

My posts are going to be shorter now than they've been before. I've wanted to sit and write several times since bringing #3 home from the hospital nearly 4 weeks ago, but I've entered survival mode, and long drawn out posts don't fit well in to survival mode.

I feel more exhausted today than I have on any given day in the last 4 weeks since Joel came home. He's got a cold that his brother's gave him and was hacking and gagging and gasping for air through most the night. My husband reassured me that he's created just like the rest of us, to survive many things, one being the common cold - but I can't help but SPRING out of bed every time I hear him gagging and gasping. He's been waking every 2 1/2 to 3 hours to eat during the night, so finding time to sleep has been a challenge, to say the least. Last night I was awake multiple times inbetween every feeding wacking him on the bag firmly to help him gag out the foreign invader in his airway. I was so uptight about it that I snapped at Josh, "Why do you laugh when I do this?!" (in regards to me sprinting across the room to grab Joel out of his bed). He said quite calmly, "I wasn't laughing honey, I was asking if he's ok." Josh let me sleep in for another hour and a half this morning (to just past 8) an was surprised that I came downstairs as early as I did. Joel was 30 minutes past his morning feeding and was chomping at the bit. Josh was clearly fully prepared to hold the child off as long as possible to get his poor wife whithin some reach of sanity. I fought to keep my composure all morning (lost it in the bathroom for a while by myself - the toilet lid has become my middle of the day weepy spot - I don't actually have to frequent it that often, but today was just one.of.those.days). Josh left for work around 12:15 and I set my sights on 1 o clock - the promise of naptime was just 45 minutes away. I'm not sure I even remember laying down after feeding Joel. Many times during the night I'll awake in a panic thinking I feel asleep while nursing him and have rolled on top of him. I've searched the sheets in frantic desperation, several nights, while yelling to Josh, "WHERE IS JOEL!" He got fussy about an hour in to naptime so I went and got him and brought him to the bed (a RARE occassion - bringing him to the bed, that is, not the fussiness). I made sure the sheet was far below his swaddled little body and that edge of my pillow was nowhere near him - he had more than half the bed to himself. I dreamt that I'd been sedated. I struggled to wake myself up from my dream when I heard Judah crying. I just couldn't quite reach the light. I knew I heard him, but my eyes wouldn't respond the the command my brain was giving them. Judah often wakes around 2:30, so it could have been quite a long time that I'd been trying to wake up to get him. I have no idea. Joel was lying there next to me on the bed when I woke up, and I think I've decided that he won't be joining my on the bed again; not with how "sedated" I felt. I fear I wouldn't have known if I'd rolled on top of him. It has been one of my worst fears with all three children, even though we "co-sleep" on a very rare occassion. I've had many a nightmare about it with each newborn brought home. I drug myself out of the bed to get Judah. I opened the window curtain to let the day stream in and then opened the curtain that separates he and Elijah's parts of the bedroom and hung on it (and I do mean HUNG on it) for a few moments to let my eyes adjust appropriately to my unsedated state. Once I felt stable I pulled him out of the crib and set him down to put his shorts on. I fell asleep sitting there holding his shorts out and in the quiet of my momentary slumber my brain said to me, "tuna". I opened my eyes to Judah stepping in to his shorts and I said to myself, "yes, tuna." Tuna needs to go on my grocery list (and it did once I got downstairs). This is a mom's brain at it's purest. I know there's been more exhausted. I know others have it way harder. I know I have 3 healthy, happy boys and am blessed with a supportive husband that blesses me in multiple ways any chance he gets. I know I've got it good. But, MAN am I ever exhausted!

really nothing to do with Joel - scattered thoughts, at best.

We discussed not having children, ANY children, until Josh started residency. It became very apparent very early in to his first year of medical school that God had something else in mind. I was thick in to my first year at Truman State University and was more excited about school than I had been at the 4 previous schools I'd attended. I was doing Chinese cultural studies and language and was planning on graduating with a degree in that area and being as fluent as I could in Mandarin Chinese in the 2 years that we were slotted to live in Kirksville. I became a monster when I wasn't at school. Never having time to do my stuff around the house or even really to fix dinner just didn't mesh with the housewife I was used to being. It was turing ugly really quickly. The rare moments when my husband didn't have to study and we should have been spending precious time together, I had homework and resented doing it. I LOVED what I was studying for the first time in my 5 years of school and had FINALLY found what I wanted to major in, but it just wasn't fitting in to our lives. I prayed ernestly about it and received a very swift and firm reply. Quit school. Get pregnant. Ok. You didn't have to answer THAT quickly. I quit. We got pregnant the first month we tried, and now that tiny baby that I delivered at the Kirksville hospital just turned 4 on the 13th of this July. I adored him from day one, and then he turned 18 months. He was still a little bit baby, but the toddler side of him reared it's head and the battles began. I hadn't prayerfully equipped myself for how to handle this. For the past 2 1/2 years of his life my dealings with him have driven an ever widening wedge in our relationship as mother and son. I love him, don't get me wrong, but it's a chore for me to keep my heart in the right place when it comes to spending quality time with him and being patient with him. I'm relieved when I speak to other mothers to find that I am NOT alone in this battle with my 4 year old, but it doesn't make me feel less crappy about where our relationship is on this very day. Little Judah has reached that stage - he's 20 months. He whines incessantly and I don't have patience for it. He yells at Elijah (who has it coming a lot of the time, but not always) and gets raging mad (and I do mean raging) if I don't give him what he wants when he wants it. (He's learning very quickly that this gets him no where in our house). But I deal with him very differently than I delt with Elijah at this stage. I felt more bonded with him earlier on, and I assume it's because I was able to nurse him successfully. Elijah had horrible latch problems and each feeding that came around was a stressful indeavor for us both. He'd latch, pull a couple times and then slip. He didn't just slip off, he'd slip and bite down with his gums and then pull off and scream. I had blood blisters and splits all over both sides from nursing him those 3 months. I'd get so angry with him (a teeny baby....yeah). I cried through most feedings and was becoming resentful toward him that we didn't have this lovely bond in feeding that all mother's were supposed to have with their babies. With Judah, it was a really tight bond and I often felt guilty, like I loved him more because of it. When it really comes down to it I don't think that a mother can truly love one of her children more than another, but of course the thought was entertained in my head more than once. It felt like Judah and I "got along" better from the very beginning. I was more relaxed with him. He was much more attached to me than Elijah was (this probably has NOTHING to do with the nursing but much more to do with the vast differences in their personalities). I don't feel like Elijah and I have EVER had a special connection. He just turned 4 and I still don't feel like we've really ever "bonded". (I'm sure this is tainted much by the stage he's in - I can't seem to remember anything else in his life) This doesn't change the love I have for him, but it certainly has influenced the way we've interacted since Judah was born. It has certainly influenced the way we've interacted since Joel was born. I know there's been times that I've been too hard on him. Probably more than not. I've known them the instant they happen. Every mother I've talked to says they are harder on the oldest child than on the rest. Some on lookers think we have been TOO hard on him. Some onlookers just totally disagree with the expectations we have for our children's behavior and the way we go about remedying ill behavior. We do things the way our parents did things. We do things the way we believe God has called us to do things. Along with that has come the VERY sharp learning curve of raising each of our children in the way HE should go. I feel like the way I interact with Elijah about his ill behavior (not the way I punish him - these are two very different parents of the job of correction) is not in mesh with raising him in the way HE should go. I haven't found it yet and have spent the past 2 1/2 years in what feels to me like perpetual aggravation with him trying to figure out how to manage him. It's been entirely frustrating and at times I just want to throw in the towel and let his foolishness take him over. ("Follishness is bound up in the heart of a child" Proverbs 22:15) I was in a store yesterday and was talking to the check out gal. She remarked on how "brave" I was for having 3 boys to close in age. I laughed and reassured her that it hadn't been the plan. She said her boy is 5 and she doesn't feel any where NEAR ready to even start thinking about another child. She said she just got to the point with him where there are days that she actually likes him.....ALL DAY! OH for that day! I'm annoyed and aggravated more than not and I'm just plain sick of it. It's a spiritual battle I've been fighting for the past 2 1/2 years in my parenting of Elijah and I'm sick of fighting it. (I'm sure there is plenty of room for more prayer! There always is - and OH the mighty things it does! Mighty things that have not happened, because I DO NOT prayer enough!) Even as I write this I'm super annoyed with him because he was SO emotional all morning from having woken up too early and he's suppose to be napping but didn't ever go to sleep. And then he got out of bed and I heard him shouting, "come wipe me!" from the bathroom. There will come a day when I can just calm the hell down about all that and brush it off. It won't be such an annoyance, such an aggravating thing. I hope.

Now I feel desperate and lend way to panic, at times. I just gave birth to my 3rd boy and I still don't feel like I know how to raise the first I gave birth to. I KNOW I HAVE been equipped, because God gave me these boys to raise, but I don't FEEL equipped. Ridiculous human emotion! I loathe "feelings" sometimes! They just get in the way. The transition to 3 has been remarkably easier than either of the other two transitions. I'd say the move from zero children to 1 child was by far the hardest! Moving to 3 just felt natural (as natural as it could with our first unplanned child). I'm much more relaxed with him than I was with either of the other boys as babies. I feel more relaxed with Judah in the age he is at than I was with Elijah at that age - because I've "been there done that." I often wish I could look a couple years in to the future and look back from that point and see, "he's not capable of matching that expectation at this age" like I can with Judah and will be able to with Joel. I feel like Elijah will always be the guinea pig because he's the first. He'll always be the test drive model and then I'll make adjustments to the later models to improve. He'll always get the brunt. I don't want him to be bitter. I don't want him to go haywire when he's out of the house at 18 because he felt his mother had such a tight fist on him. I don't want him to let his kids do whatever the hell they please just because he resents the way I raised him. (Of course my husband is in this equation, but this is a blog about the way I feel about my parenting. I FEEL like he's a much better father than I am a mother - so I'm leaving him out of it completely).

Huff puff - I'm all worked up. So, you can plainly see that this blog post that was supposed to be about my transition to 3 very quickly just turned in to a post about how I don't even feel ready to raise the first one. Having 2 more boys stacked on to the equation doesn't really change anything other than the fact that I have more taking my attention away from figuring out how "thing 1" needs to be "raised in the way he should go". Now I have 3 "in the way he should go" to figure out. I can say with certainty, however, that I really like having 3. As hard as my job is, it feels much more natural to me to have 3 than it did to just have 1.

Elijah starts preschool this fall and I think it will do MUCH good for us to have some time apart for those 3 days a week. We butt heads, always have, and tend to do better when we aren't around eachother all day every day (which has happened very few times). I'm anxious to see what it does for our relationship. I DESPERATELY want to like my child for an entire day. I DESPERATELY WANT to WANT to spend time with him! I want to look forward to him coming out of his bedroom every morning instead of dreading what the day ahead will hold in the departments of whining and disobedience. I want to look forward to picking him up after preschool those afternoons instead of being so thrilled that I finally don't have to listen to him all day. I don't want a bad attitude about Elijah. I'm tired of it! Prayer has NOT been nearly enough a part of my raising of Elijah, and it's the ONLY thing that is going to change my heart toward him.

Fear not, I do love Elijah.

Joel - my testimony of a year and a half and counting

I'm done making promises to post to this blog on a regular basis. I've tried to make it an habitual thing in my life, but it just hasn't become that. Facebook is much more of that, which is a shame, because there's really no way to look back months and see where I've come. That being said, here is a post, long overdue! It will probably be packed with typos, as I'm in a hurry to pound it out while the boys run willy nilly around. I know if I wait, little Joel will be born and then it will be months and THEN I won't remember it all. Life hasn't been slow for these past months since I've written. The blog knew I was pregnant and that it is with a little boy we will call Joel, but thats about it. This will be a count of the events leading up to and surrounding this little boy's beginning of life.
He was unexpected, to say the least! Unplanned, and really ultimately actively avoided slide right in next to unexpected. Judah was JUST turning one and I was thoroughly enjoying the stage that he was at and the interactions that were just starting to take place between he and Elijah. Life was finally settling down. I'd just recently cut Gluten out of my diet and my health had taken a turn for the WAY better! I had energy to spare every day, had been able to cut out MY afternoon naps and wasn't dealing with the constant fatigue and achiness I had dealt with the previous couple of months. Gluten makes me feel like crap, thats all there is to it.
Cutting gluten out of my diet wasn't a decision based on the trends of society today to eat "healthier" (believe you me, if I could still be eating it and feel fine, I WOULD!). It had nothing to do with positive allergy tests or blood tests, as those all came back negative. It was a decision based on one day of fasting and a clear direction from the Creator that it needed to go. At the time I was in complete desperation for something, ANYTHING that would be pro-active and work in helping me feel better. As any typical human, I wanted SOMETHING to do to feel more in control of my diminishing health. A short (as short as I can make it) background in this desperation I was feeling:
Judah was 2 1/2 months old and I was finally starting to feel out of the postpartum funk and enjoying my boys. I noticed over a weeks time that the hearing in my left ear was slowly diminishing - by the end of the week I had no hearing what so ever in my left ear and chalked it up to fluid or a simple infection. I was given a round of meds to clear out fluid, which worked, but my hearing didn't fully return. I woke up the morning of my ENT appt with slight vertigo (room spins, not dizziness) and really wasn't sure what to think of it. The ENT appt went fine and we sat and discussed my hearing test and a possible diagnosis. He said Meniere's, something I had never heard of.(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ménière's_disease) I ate lunch that afternoon and sat down to nurse Judah. The nursing only lasted moments before I fell sideways on the bed with a completely overpowering vertigo attack. My left ear was screaming a high pitched train wistle type sound at me and the nausea was increasing with every passing second. Josh was off to work, my 2 1/2 month old was lying next to me on the bed and Elijah was down for his afternoon nap. I figured I'd just lay still and maybe sleep it off. I got up to pee and heaved violently in to the bathroom trash pail before making my way along the floor, on my hands and knees, back to the bed. I reached up and grabbed my cell phone to call Josh and beg him to come home. He was on his way shortly. I drug myself back to the bathroom just in time to, again, heave violently in to the toilet. I layed on the floor right outside the bathroom sweating and crying. Judah woke up on the bed. I knew that if I moved an inch I'd heave again, but I was concerned about him rolling off the bed. I stood up and ran, vearing this way and that, running in to furniture with my complete lack of balance, grabbed my baby and ran as quickly and steadily as possible to put him in his cradle in our closet. I hit the floor and made it back to the trashcan just in time. 3rd painfully violent heave in under 20 minutes. My stomach ached with a vengence and I was drenched with sweat. Josh made it home, but I haven't a clue how much time had past. I don't know if I passed out, or fell asleep or have just erased the memory of that next slot of time. I heaved several more times that afternoon before my mother made it to our house to watch the boys so Josh and I could run in to urgent care to get some fluids in me. They gave me a few IV bags and some zofran. Things wer improving slowly, and I looked deader than a wedge. I was completely wiped for the next two days, as my ear slowly gained it's hearing back and the refractery vertigo came and went. The tinnitus (ringing in the ear) never left me alone. This happened 3 more times in the next 2 months (though not so severe, since I now had Zofran to keep the vomiting from happening). My ear would "stuff up" for a few days, ring like a freight train and then the attack would fall hard! The "attacks" petered over the next 6 months and eventually became very unpredictable and scattered. My ENT here at Eglin decided I didn't have Meniere's, but most likely was suffering from a recurrent (and very stubborn) case of "Labrynthitis" (we still don't know, a year and a half later, what it is) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Labyrinthitis).
My hearing increasingly diminished, after moving to Florida, and wasn't making the recovery like it had been before (though I was no longer having vertigo "attacks"). I was in rough shape. I was becoming more and more pessimistic with the situation, feeling depressed, anxious, and sickly. I had a "head fog" that I didn't understand, my joints and muscles ached and I was constantly tired. I had no energy to run around with my boys or even just to manage being a mother at it's very simplist. I posted on here, on facebook, hunted down doctor and doctor to beg for answers. I pestered my physician husband with questions (much to his annoyance I'm afraid) about what could possibly be wrong with me. Why me? Why now? Why this? I bargained with God to take it away. I was, over and over again, going through the stages of grief. In all this time I was focused everywhere but where I should have been setting my sights to. I could hear him calling, beconing me back to his side. I refused to go. I didn't "blame" God for letting this happen to me, I just wanted an audible voice, a HUMAN voice telling me it would be ok. (strange how we humans or so relient on things we can "hear" with our human senses.) I frantically searched the internet for medical sights and blogs that would give me some answer as to what I was suffering from. I tried a "low-sodium" diet (as per doctor's orders), and ordered 3 low sodium cookbooks, sodium free baking soda and baking powder to cook with and even a special salt substitute to put on my food (spending way too much money). I went crazy with an idea I was given, frantically searching for some kind of answer, for comfort. Nothing worked. In the beginning of October of last year (2010) I felt called to fast. Fasting hasn't been a spiritual discipline I've practiced many times. I can't actually remember a single time, other that the one in October, when I've felt directly called to fast. I obeyed. It wasn't a slow day where I was able to sit around and pray all day, every time I felt hungry, so I just continued through the busy day I'd been given, praying any chance I thought of it. At the end of the day I felt discouraged at how it'd gone and then it was there, just like that - "Stop eating gluten". Ok. I'll stop. It's going to suck and it's going to be hard, but it's SOMETHING to do! I stopped. Within 48 hours my joints and muscles stopped aching and I was literally shaking with energy. I felt "happy" like I hadn't been in months, and was delighted to see my sense of humor return in it's full form. I chased the kids around and rolled on the ground with them. I cooked, cleaned, started RUNNING (I HATE running - thats how much extra energy I had) and just felt all together fanstastic! I had been dropping weight like crazy (most likely due to lack of nutrient "absorption" from eating gluten when my body wasn't tollerating it) and continued to do so rapidly after going "gluten-free" from lack of virtually any carb intake. I was thin (too thin - but you know how body image is in this society - I can't say I was hating being that thin), in shape, feeling awesome and the best part was that my vertigo was rapidly disappearing as my hearing slowly returned. It wasn't returning in full (and still hasn't), but its remarkably better than where it was before I practiced obedience and started the GF diet. My ear still "stuffed" up now and then and I found that when it did I naturally went to straight back to panic and searching everything I could think of for answers. I'd become depressed for whatever amount of time it was "stuffed" and fretted about how horrible it could be if I started getting vertigo attacks again. I was, once again, not trusting, no seeking my Creator for the answer and comfort I needed. This became a cycle. "Stuff up", panic, search elsewhere, doubt. Even though God had proven to be he was in control (and he certainly didn't need to prove to me, I knew better.)
Now, that sets everything up for tiny Joel to enter the scene. (I told you this would get long! If you've made it to this point, thank you, and you must have been really curious) Needless to say, I had NO desire to get pregnant or even entertain the idea for months to come. I had JUST started feeling better. I had been told that with inner issues pregnancy could exacerbate the issue, so I was REALLY looking to avoid adding to our family for a while. I started praying ernestly about adoption (and had mentioned to Josh that I had always had a dream of adopting our third child) when I found out I was pregnant with Judah in early November. To be precise, just days after he turned 1 year old. I wept a hard, painful cry - for two days. My SLIGHT vertigo started kicking back in and my tinnitus worsened, as I had feared they would. I questioned, doubted, and was just downright bummed out with God for allowing me to get pregnant. I knew better than to think I had any right to be miffed, but I continued in my wallowing for weeks. I didn't want another baby, another pregnancy, another reason to feel crappy. MY life has just gotten better. I has just started feeling like I was in control of my life again. Yeah, after all that God had blessed me with. I was feeling in control. I tell you what, folks, if YOU feel in control, do a quick check! It's these times that God has always rocked the boat. Not saying he doesn't rock the boat, even if you are continually relying on him, but it's a much less gentler rocking (in my experience) if your sights are already set on him like they are meant to be! 10 weeks in to the pregnancy I was still just really dissatisfied with the idea of being pregnant, of having another child this early (we want a large family, but certainly hadn't planned on having them crammed this closely in age), and was discouraged with feeling physically dumpy. I was gaining weight like mad, too exhausted to run (which I had really started to enjoy), felt nauseous (which needless to say had VERY unpleasant memories attached) and was tired all the time! My husband reminded me, every time I looked at him in desperation with tears streaming down my cheeks, "Seek God! Not man!" Right around the 10 week mark I was sitting doing a quiet time and flipped open to the book of Joel. I felt a strong draw to read it and hadn't a clue why. I read the first chapter, all the while thinking about how irrelevent this was to my situation. What did warnings about the second coming have to do with this tiny being growing inside of me and making me feel like dump?! I read in to the second chapter and began weaping unconrollably when I reached the 12th verse that read, "Even now (EVEN NOW!), declares the Lord, "return to me with all your heart,...' ". And then a sentence in to the 13th verse, "return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love,". His name will be "Joel", I was told quite clearly. We had our fingers crossed for a little girl and I was convinced I was pregnant with a girl (and still didn't let go of the idea of a girl for a few more weeks after this), but God told me quite clearly HIS name will be Joel. I told me husband that night and he sighed, knowing he once again was not going to get to use his favorite boy's name, "Caleb". God named this baby, not either of us.
The pregnancy has continued without hitch - my vertigo is scarce and I have to remind myself that when I DO have it, it doesn't mean I will end up an invalid mother, trapped in bed while someone else cares for my children (ridiculous I know, but it has been one of my greatest fears all along in this battle against my inner ear issues! ) (even now as I type this I struggle with keeping my sense of balance, as my ear is ringing louder than normal and I have slight vertigo - I STILL have to fight the fear that Satan tries plugging into my head! EVEN AFTER ALL GOD HAS DONE! Humans!).
A cyst was found on Joel's brain during an ultrasound scan at 18 weeks. Everything else seemed to measure fine, but the concern of Trisomy 18 (fatal abnormalities) came in to the picture, and I spent the following 10 weeks leading up to my follow-up ultrasound fighting fear, doubt and despair. I fought to trust, to let him lead me in to peace. It was a constant battle. He named this child, and I knew full well why, but I STILL had to fight to trust. "EVEN NOW!" WHY would he do all this just to give me a child I couldn't hold and love and raise? "EVEN NOW!" Joel was cleared at 28 weeks of any concern of Trisomy 18. The "high risk maternal, fetal" physician looking at the ultrasound said quite gleefully and frankly, "Your baby is beautiful! He's perfect!"
This pregnancy has been, by far, the easiest of any of my pregnancies. I've had no vertigo attacks (though it flares slightly from time to time, as does the ringing in my ears). I've had NO lower GI tract issues like I painfully suffered with Judah. I've had NO swelling and water retention (leading to excess weight gain) like I had with Elijah. We now sit and wait for this little boy to come out and join our family. Elijah is anxious to meet him and repeatedly throughout the day will hug and kiss my belly while very seriously saying hello to Joel. Judah doesn't have a clue, other than the confusion that mommy's belly is a "baby" and so are the actual babies we show him pictures of. I'm sure he thinks we're confused loonies. How is THAT a baby? It's just a giant belly! We expected him to arrive right around 38 weeks because we had both the other boys on the day I turned 38 weeks. 38 weeks was Thursday, the 7th. Today is Monday the 11th. Still no Joel. I contract for half days, intensely, and then it stops. Who knows when he'll arrive. The theme aroundt his child has been trust, waiting, patience, leaning NOT on my own understanding, and returning to the Lord "EVEN NOW". I find myself leaning toward panic about when he'll come. Will I tear, (because they think he's HUGE, according to the his growth scan several weeks ago, though I'm convinced he's teenier than he should be because my tummy is tiny compared to the other two boys). Will he come on Elijah's birthday. (I know, if thats all I have to worry about, how ridiculous!) Will he be here in time for my mother-in-law to see him before she goes home (she gets here this Friday, the 15th and leaves the 22nd). What of Josh's rotations. They are NOT easy rotations. How on earth am I supposed to be a mother to a spirited 4 year old in need of constant attitude and behavior training, a 20 month old just discovering how fits work and who finds utter delight in digging into anything and everything he knows is a "no touch" AND a newborn? EVEN NOW return to the Lord will ALL my heart! Not just some of it, not just some of my trust, not just some of my reliance, but ALL of it! ALL. OF. IT! What if my ear freaks out on me again, like it did after Judah was born. How am I supposed to be a mother to these three children if I'm dragging myself along the floor wretching my guts out??!?! WHAT IF?! WHAT IF?!! "EVEN NOW!"
RETURN TO THE LORD WILL ALL YOUR HEART! EVEN NOW!

This testimony is only just beginning and it's already a year and a half old. God will continue to call me back to his side, to trust him. I will continuously fail to obey him because I am a flighty, untrusting, unworthy human. It's a constant battle for me to trust. Joel will be a human figure in front of me to constantly remind me of God's faithfullness, of his call for me to EVEN NOW, return to him with ALL my heart! It's a fight against MY flesh and blood, against Satan's ridiculously refined tactics to distract me, against everything in this world telling me to seek elsewhere. Even then will I return to MY Lord will all MY heart! I will always come back around, this I am determined. He FINALLY got me full attention with the pregnancy of this child, and I intend to fight tooth and nail to keep my attention on him, flighty though I may be in my humanness.
"EVEN NOW!"

a search for brilliance

We need ideas. We have ideas, but we need input on those ideas and new ideas to consider.

Here's the schedule: mine and my husband's time together at the end of the day is HIGHLY important to us! It is beneficial for both of us to have time away from the children to focus on our relationship with each other. As his schedule changes constantly, so does our flexibility with our boy's bedtimes, but on a normal day to day basis the boys go to bed between 7:30 and 8:00. We understand as they get older (this applies to Elijah more than Judah right now) their need for lengthly night sleep will decrease. Judah is still needing 11-12 hours a night to be fully functional the next day. (fully functional as in NOT screaming and crying about anything and everything) Elijah DEFINITELY needs more than 8 hours (as found this past week in his refusal to sleep, 3 nights in a row he had only 8 hours and it made for a VERY disagreeable boy!) They both take a 2 hour afternoon nap. Sleeping for the full 2 hours rarely happens, but they are required to rest for at least 2 hours. Elijah will often sleep 3 1/2 hours if I don't wake him. If he doesn't sleep at all during naptime (which has happened on several occasions) he's a blubbering emotional mess by the time 6:00 pm rolls around, which in turn makes for a very unrestful evening for everyone. Tonight it was nearly 9 before he fell asleep (I know this because I was checking on him every 5 minutes to ensure he was still in bed - we've been fighting this battle for over a week now and it's been utterly exhausting!)

The problem to be solved:

As the time my husband and I get together in the evening (or I get to myself when he's on night rotations) is so important, we are in search of a QUIET and constructive activity for Elijah to do at night in his room (he and Judah share a room - keep this in mind) while he unwinds from his day. He tires with flipping through books after 10 minutes or so, likes to color but quickly loses interest in coloring ONLY on the designated coloring area, and LOVES movies but we hesitate to pop in a movie for him EV ER Y night (unless ya'll have some awesome ideas of educational movies for his age). We've tossed around the idea of getting him one of those little Leap Frog laptops, but hate to spend the money if he's just going to get frustrated with it and be coming out of his room constantly to ask for help - I also don't want the noise of the laptop to interfere with Judah's sleep and Elijah has proven to hate headphones. He's worn them, but not without breaking both pairs we've tried. So there you have the challenge - brilliant ideas only, please! ;)

Coping with hooligans

I sit and type this as my two boys eat their lunch. Neither of them were asking for lunch or even acting hungry, but for sanity sake we have a schedule where we try to eat lunch right around noon every day. As soon as the prospect of food is introduced both boys seem to lose their composure. Elijah deals with is a bit more maturely than does Judah, but both of them flip out in their own little way. It's as if they were starving, sitting around waiting all morning long for me to pull lunch stuff out and then when I finally do, it just wasn't quite soon enough. Death by starvation is looming around the next corner and lunch is surely not going to be ready in time. This is the precise reason I loathe fixing the boys lunch. It's never a fun time, or relaxing, or a time that I EVER feel like I can be creative and fun with their food. It's a race to see how much of their lunch I can get ready before they notice, in order to minimize the amount of time they are hanging on my ankles crying (mostly Judah) about how lunch is NOT yet ready. The mood you are reading is a culmination of my frustration with my job this morning. It's not complaining, as I see it, just coping with my frustrations as a mother through writing. It's the only way I can process through how the morning has gone, so write on I will.

Elijah has recently taken great delight in the pestering and aggravation of his younger brother. This has been utterly frustrating for me watch. This morning Judah was standing on a bottom brace of his highchair by the table and Elijah came up to hug him. I believe it started out as just a hug, but it quickly turned in to Elijah intentionally smashing Judah's face into the corner of the table and laughing hysterically about how distraught Judah was about his face being pressed into hard wood. I hate bullying! I was the one getting picked on, constantly, when I was little. It strikes a nerve that feeds my temper. It's really difficult for me to discipline and guide Elijah to do the right thing without an emotional explosion. I know it comes with the territory of being a mother to boys (or just being a mother of anything) and that it's natural for brothers to bicker, but it truly is, I can honestly say, the biggest challenge I've faced as a mother thus far. Elijah didn't hit when he was Judah's age (as most babies do for a time) and he's never been physically aggressive with his friends, so to watch the switch from that to him actually taking delight in physically hurting his brother has really been heart breaking for me. He's gone from hugging, kissing and loving on Judah to tripping, slapping, smashing or hitting him at any chance that seems worthy. (as I typed out that last part, I was SO blessed to see Judah run up and rub Elijah's arm and face after Elijah tripped and hurt himself. Elijah bent and kissed Judah's forehead and they both ran off to play - THAT is what a mama loves to see, but these instances seem so few and far between any more). I haven't a clue why God chose three boys for me to raise. It's hard for me to write out how excited I am to love on Joel once he's born, but 3 boys? Gracious! He knows exactly what I need (and what Josh needs) to be a parent to. I suppose it's a good testament to his sense of humor. I never would have pictured having 3 boys in a row! I thought surely 3 boys would be would be more than I can handle, God knows! I suppose God knows I'm wrong about that because come July there will be even more testosterone in this house...oh goodness! I wake up some mornings to Elijah slamming his door behind him after he's woken up and gotten out of bed, and then listening to Judah cry because the slamming door woke him up. These are just some of the mornings I just don't feel up to face the challenge that I'm called to face. Some days it just seems too much. (interesting how I have a hard time, sometimes, living my day to day life when I am more blessed than I could have imagined. Some women NEVER get the chance to grow a baby or even to be a mother, yet I am able to find discontentment in this blessing that God has given me. Humanness in it's purest form) Some days I even wonder why my boys even like me anymore. As I'm sure many of you can relate, there are days I'm just not a very nice mommy. It's hard to be nice, sometimes, when you spend day in and day out trying to train your children out of their "inherent evil" just to have them act like wild animals. These are truly difficult days for me to power through!

New toddler in town

Judah has thrust full throttle in to toddler hood this past week. He's exploring fit throwing tactics that are new to us, as parents, and has got a scream that will bring attention to a mile of surrounding neighborhoods. This boy is opinionated! Elijah has always had a temper, but his expression of it when he was 18 months old was much more subdued than Judah's. I'm sure there's more than just personality to account for. Judah has an older brother to watch. He copies EV ER Y THING that Elijah does and tends to mimic Elijah's fits and then dare to take them to a whole new level. Even Elijah just sits and watches in wonderment as Judah experiments with how shrill he can make himself sound when he's upset. He's asserting his independence, and when he feels that is threatened he pronounces to the world his disbelief that anyone should have an say in his behavior. This morning I made hot cereal for breakfast. The boys LOVE their hot cereal. Lately Judah has been growing ever so discontent with me feeding him....ANYTHING, or even helping him eat. He seems to believe that he's perfectly capable of running his own utensils no matter what the consistency of food he's dealing with. We sat down to eat and I scooped up a bite and extended it toward him. The screaming started instantly (the above picture is not from today...clearly), as he thrashed this way and that in his chair. He slapped the table with both hands while yelling indiscriminate sounds at me. He made his point. I sat watching him, bewildered at how such a little body can cause such a racket and asked him if he wanted to try. He quieted down and said, "mmhm", so I slid the bowl over. He devoured a couple of bites, his bib taking more of the cereal in than his mouth, and then clearly took great pleasure in how the cereal slid off his spoon onto his lap. He scooped up a hefty dollop on his spoon and slapped it down on the table. The spoon was hurled as his hands came down with force on to the cereal on the table. He smeared it all around, all the while concentrating with great discipline. Elijah stared at the ritual and then looked at me with a look that said, "So...what are you going to do about it, Mom? I mean, really? You're going to just watch that happen. Psh!" I sighed and reached over to take the spoon and bowl from Judah. I told him, "no no", and scooped up another bite of cereal for him. Breakfast continued this way for ten minutes or so. I took breaks now and then to finish off my bowl before it got cold as Judah worked himself in to such a tissy about not being in charge of his own breakfast that he didn't even want to feed himself anymore. All in all, in more than 30 minutes, he had only 3 full bites of cereal. He'd stop screaming now and then if something distracted him and then when I'd sit back down to ask if he wanted a bite the rage would bubble back up. I supposed he was done and asked him. He reassured me, "dah done". I cleaned him up and he went and played. He was plenty hungry by snack time. This isn't the first time this little firecracker has blown. And it really is only with food. If he's not able to feed it to himself he really wants nothing to do with it. He's demanding independence, full scale! I'd let the child feed himself the hot cereal (and other like consistencies) if I knew they weren't going to end up on all the walls. If even he'd let me help him. But if he's going in for a bite and I reach out to take his hand and help the whole earth gives way. Lord knows I'm not going to be the mother who's children sits by and watch as I scrub their dinners off the floor and walls because they felt like flinging it all about. Perhaps I seem a horribly controlling mother to some of you, but I will NOT have wasted food for the sake of playing. Does that mean we don't have fun at the table? Certainly not. We have plenty of fun, just not at the expense of the food. My children play all day and have endless possibilities of playtime imagination when they are not at the table. The table is for eating, not foolish wastefulness.

That being said, I've thoroughly enjoyed watching Judah transform out of his baby-ness. He's precious and blesses mine and Josh's and Elijah's lives daily.

Maybe 4?

I'm exhausted. Spring has been beautiful here this year but it is very rapidly transitioning in to summer and it's still just March. This isn't a blog posting to complain, but simply to put in to written word what life entails right now. Josh is on "the team" (code name for really crappy hours and work every weekend) and the boys and I have been feeling his absence in various ways. Judah is delighted to see him but rarely seems to notice when and how long he's gone. Elijah - he has an entirely different reaction. His behavior is noticeably worse when daddy hasn't been around much (this has been true really since he was a tiny tyke). Me? I just miss my best friend (though I would rather it be this way for a thousand years than have him be deployed like some of my close friend's husbands). I wasn't cut out for the single mom life and it shines brightly as my patience and stamina decrease throughout the week. Being pregnant hasn't helped a thing. Really. I'm growing more excited each day to meet this tiny baby Joel that I feel living such a rambunctious life in the better part of my abdominal cavity, but the energy put forth to grow him has only taken away from the energy I have for the boys that are living such a rambunctious life OUTside my abdomen. Judah mostly just requires constant looking after, which is fine. Elijah on the other hand - phewy. I love the child, but he is so hard for me. I keep thinking, "maybe 4?" Maybe when he turns 4 he'll start acting nicely on a more consistent basis. I'm exhausted of being consistent in my parenting (a VERY important aspect of the parenting practices we believe to be as Godly). He's taken to screaming (and I really do mean screaming - no exaggerations) lately...about pretty much everything. Yesterday we took the boys to "construction junction" in Fort Walton Beach and he screamed in my face as I crouched down to talk to him about disobedience. He took it to a whole new level when, after screaming, he spit in my eye. Elijah really is a good kid. We have people remark about his "good" behavior often. Lately, though, it seems he is testing new waters. We think he's starting to grow out of the fit, tantrum, rebellious stage and he throws us for a whole other loop. I've never before, until this past week, heard Elijah scream about so many things. And never before, EVER, has he taken to spitting to express his anger. I was blessed that this was on Josh's day off and he promptly dealt with the poor behavior and we left "construction junction", much to Elijah's chagrin. He seemed quite distraught that we picked up and left so quickly (neither of us wanted to leave yet), but I'm sure it (i HOPE) will have a lasting impression if he feels the need to spit in my eye in the future. It's strange, because I compare him to other children his age that I see and overall he really is a wonderfully behaved child. He seems to pick bad behaviors up from other children like a little velcro ball and try them out for a while. He finds, quickly, that they don't roll well in our family. There's been issues I've been working hard to take control of (short temper, small amount of patience, expecting more that he's capable of) and I seem to just barely get ahead of his behavior when he pulls a new trick out of the bag. It's so hard for me to feel like I can get a wrap on my own issues when I don't have a break from his. It certainly doesn't make it any easier that he most noticeably prefers his daddy and is more apt to behaving around him (thus the worse behavior when Josh is gone so much - darn this medical residency life style!). (As I type this it blesses me immensely to hear Elijah sitting at the table with his dinner singing the "God you reign" song with the words "God you raisIN!" The fact that God has taken a hold of his heart at this young of an age gives me a hope and confidence that his future doesn't depend solely on how calm I stay when he does something like spitting in my eye because he's angry with me - I did actually stay quite calm with help from a clenched jaw and a few VERY deep breaths - a HUGE triumph for me!) A while back we read, "The strong willed child" by Dobson (LOVE him!). We didn't really feel like Elijah fit the bill (back then) but I certainly would say he fits it now! He's teachable (which is encouraging!) but it takes SO much patience and consistency and some days I feel like throwing up my hands is the only option left. Judah is my motivation to keep going, as he copies EV ER Y THING that Elijah does. He's started hitting (which Elijah NEVER has really had a problem with) when he's upset about something and it's very sad for me to see. He's 18 months now and asserting his independence with fervor. He's hanging on to a bit of remaining "mama's boy" behavior, but daily I see ways that he's becoming more and more of a toddler and less and less of a "easy" baby. I know he has to pass the baby stage at some point, but it's a bit disheartening for me to see right along being spit on by my oldest. We emphasize the importance to Elijah of being a good example for his baby brother. He takes this seriously, most of the time, but his behavioral issues get in the way all too often. He has the desire to be a "good" boy, but the only hope for that is constant training and that training is the very thing I often feel I just want to be done with. I'm so tired of my job sometimes. I often joke about checking in to the "crazy house", but sometimes I say it only half joking. It would be a really relaxing vacation, indeed! I've laid in bed often begging God to let Joel be a calm and compliant boy. Why God felt the need to grace me with 3 boys I know not the reason. He knows what I need, but it certainly doesn't feel that way a lot of the time. My children bless me immensely, but they also frustrate me to the point of tears SO often these days! The thought of adding another child (another BOY) to the mix is all too overwhelming at times. I wanted to get pregnant when we found out we were expecting Elijah, but many days I wonder why. Pre-moms and dads just don't have a clue. I really didn't. God will grace you with what you need when you need it, and children are a gift. Thats that. But, I've never received a gift that requires so much maintenance! Gracious! I love my children more than is measurable, but with them comes days when bashing my head on the counter over and over instead of having to listen to them sounds like fun!

Get behind me!

Today has been a day of attack. Not the worst I've experienced, but a day of attack none-the-less. It started in the wee hours of the morning when I woke up from a disgustingly ridiculous dream that could only have been from the pit of hell! I prayed it away and was spared slipping back in to the same dream for the remaining few hours I had left to sleep. I woke up at 6:30 to the sound of Elijah downstairs hollering to me to come help him in the bathroom. The worry and doubt set in as soon as I crawled back in to bed upstairs. Satan really uses my ability to completely unreasonable and irrational to his advantage when it comes to giving me things to worry about. This morning he was whispering in to my ear that Joel was not a viable baby. I've been waiting to get in for an ultrasound my doctor ordered to check the anatomical issues in my uterus (which have proven to NOT be an issue with my two previous pregnancies, so I'm not totally sure why she's wanting it so badly). I started worrying that maybe she was keeping something from me, which of course is completely illegal and would mean certain doom for her career, so thats not happening. Never-the-less, I started worrying that maybe there was something in the blood work or maybe on the ultrasounds she had done that was cause for concern. I've been able to feel Joel's tiny kicks for about a week and a half now (VERY early! Since about 14 1/2 weeks). The other night Josh and I were laying in bed and were blessed by the site of tiny little kicks visible on my lower abdomen. This is the VERY thing Satan, that sick bastard, used to create worry and doubt in my mind this morning. I started thinking that maybe the reason I'm showing so much less than my previous pregnancies and why Joel is riding so low and why I'm able to feel him to well is because there's not enough amniotic fluid, or maybe NONE! AHHH! I worried myself sick about it for a good hour and then did what every doctor hates....I "googled", "low amniotic fluid". Various pictures of ultrasounds revealing low amniotic fluid popped up and were a much needed comfort (silly me for not just running to my Creator for comfort instead of stupid google). Never-the-less, he blessed it and reassured me that low fluid is not a concern. The ultrasounds of Joel show plenty of fluid (to the best of my knowledge of course). Satan has planted other concerns in my brain regarding Joel and his wellbeing simply because God has blessed me tremendously already with his unexpected pregnancy. I'm in the process of drawing back to God's side through my desperation surrounding this pregnancy and I've been telling that testimony, so it's only logical that Satan, in his fantastically gross scheming, would wretch with disgust and attack with his strongest whispers. But as for my concerns with Joel, I turned that over to my Creator and he gave me comfort, as he always does. (This post has the likely-hood of containing multiple typos, but I'm not going to go back and fix them. I'm typing it and moving on to a warm bath, freshly painted toe nails and a warm bed!)

I had a follow-up ENT appointment this morning for an initial appointment I had back in June. I went in shortly after we moved here to see if we could rule out the possibility of Meniere's disease as the culprit for problems I've been having with my left ear for over a year now. The appointment was really encouraging. My ENT doc said he's nearly certain it's not, in fact, Meniere's disease. He said the fact that it seems to be fading (Meniere's disease most often increasingly gets worse with each "episode") (a short and straight forward description of Meniere's: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ménière's_disease). He was very encouraged that cutting gluten out of my diet had clearly helped tremendously and said I was, "blessed" to have probably been able to find what was causing the trouble. I'm not convinced that gluten is fully to blame, but it's been clear that cutting it out of my diet has dramatically decreased the intensity of the symptoms I experience. No more debilitating vertigo, deafening tinnitus, and my my hearing seems to actually be improving. He assured me that it sounded much more likely to be an extended or reoccuring case of "labyrinthitis" (infection of the inner ear), especially because the onset of my symptoms was directly proceeded by fluid in my left middle ear (the middle ear has nothing to do with Meniere's, but infections that enter through the sinuses into the middle ear can travel to the inner ear, very rarely, and cause "labrynthitis"). So, all in all, the appointment was encouraging, but again Satan attacked full force. The doc mentioned that IF it was Meniere's it wouldn't stay away for long, gluten or no, and I would definitely know when it was back... dun dun dun. So the worrying began. I suppose I had accepted Meniere's in my mind and thought that gluten was the for sure trigger and as long as I stayed away from gluten I was good to go. This came crashing to the ground when he said it would return, if it were in fact Meniere's. *sigh* The initial "attack" I had was a little over two months after Judah was born, so naturally I started worrying about the after part of Joel's birth. The pregnancy hormones, it has seemed, have made my tinnitus and vertigo slightly worse (though neither is nearly as horrible as they were to begin with!), so whats going to happen when my body is completely depleted after carrying a child for 8 1/2 months and then is producing mass amount of milk? Worry worry worry. I'm being drawn back to my Creator's side, and I STILL allow my head to spin with all the POSSIBILITIES of a dim future! This, I feel, is the VERY reason he's allowed these things to happen in the past year (among other things that won't be mentioned). He's been desperately beaconing me to return to his side and I've run every where else looking for answers and comfort. Immediately this morning I ran to "google" for comfort. Immediately upon arriving home from the dr. appointment this morning I ran BACK to "google" to re re reread all the Meniere's and Labrynthitis articles I've scanned so many times before, for maybe a possible morsel of hope! FOR REAL??!?!! What is my problem?!? God is asking me to TRUST and be OBEDIENT! I've been obedient and I am relearning to trust, though he's done nothing to ever lose my trust. He's blessed me with the name of this child that I'm unexpectedly pregnant with, Joel. Joel means, "Yahweh is God". He is, indeed! The significance of his name is not the meaning but rather the passages in the book of Joel that speak of EVEN NOW returning to the Lord with all your heart! Return to the Lord for he is gracious and compassionate! He's beaconing me, desperately, and I run toward him, trip and run the other direction. Of course then Satan even uses the significance of Joel's name to sow doubt in to my immature head! He assures me that God has yet one more hardship up his sleeve, that he will surely take Joel away from me because thats the only way to get me to learn my lesson. WHAT? Satan is a rotten bastard! I don't know the days of my beautiful son, Joel, but I do know that my God has me tight in his hand regardless of what happens. I'm going to enjoy every kick I feel, every hiccup, (the old spelling, "hiccough", has a red line for "misspelled" under it. Strange, huh?) every blessing that God gives me surrounding the life of this child, I will enjoy! I was nervous about him at first and even cried for a good few days, but God has changed my heart drastically. Regardless of the hardship surrounding his life and the "unplanned" arrival of him he will indeed be a blessing in our lives and we will praise God for every day we get with him!

If I had it all my way I would KNOW FOR SURE that Joel is going to be perfect in every way and healthy and will bless us with his childhood and adulthood and that I would be able to continue on in my motherhood withOUT any further problems from this dumb bum left ear of mine. I would KNOW that it wasn't going to get worse, but only get better and just, of course, be completely healed all together! But I'm not God, thank goodness! He (I KNOW IT FOR SURE!!!!) has my ENTIRE life in his hands. He is intricately involved in every tiny detail of my life (crazy to think, huh, that others all over the planet deal with despair of all sorts and we don't even know the depth of it! I am all consumed with my own dislikes about my life, I forget how fortunate I am!) He's not going to let me slip by the way side. He's not going to shove me away in disgust, and he's not going to give me anything I can't handle (although he does allow for things we do not WANT to handle...) Satan can rot in hell and he will one day, in all his horrific misery. He will pay dearly for the despair he dumps on human kind! As for now, it is my responsibility to ward him off with all means necessary. GET BEHIND ME, SATAN!

"Amazing Grace" - as a mother?

I've never been a very "gracious" person. I've got a temper that is in constant need of checking and at times I let that effect my graciousness with people. I'm a very empathetic person, just not gracious. It seems hard to separate the two, but I manage to do it without effort.

Elijah's speech delay has created significant emotional tension between he and has been just an all around emotional issue for both of us individually. He gets frustrated and cries because he can't articulate the words needed to help me understand what is on his mind. I get frustrated because I can't understand him, he starts crying and then just plain refuses to try, sometimes resorting to a fit to express his frustrated state. It's been rough, to say the least. I will not again wait as long as we did with Elijah to finally follow my gut and get help with a speech related delay for any of our children (if the need presents itself again). It has caused to many issues between me and him! The latest interchange and one of the more humbling for me: I put Elijah down for his nap which is never complete without singing "Jesus loves me" and "Jesus loves the little children". Once I was finished singing those two he asked me to sing the one that Daddy sang to him last night. He's asked me to sing this song 3 days in a row but I hadn't a clue what song it was, so I just said sorry and kissed him and told him to be still and try to get some sleep. I heard him shouting few minutes later and went in to see what the ruckus was about. He was trying to tell me the name of the song that Josh sings to him at night when tucking him in. I honestly could not make out one little part of the words he was saying. I wasn't frustrated yet, but he soon because flustered, began to cry and started yelling the name of the song at me. I told him to get back in the covers and try to sleep. He bawled as I covered him up and told him to quiet down. I apologized that I didn't understand him, but it was nap time, so hush and sleep. He continued to shout at me and this is where my ungraciousness flared up. It always seems to rear it's ugly head when he's shouting trying to say something he doesn't quite know how to say. Many times it ends up in a shouting match back and forth - like thats effective. If your child isn't already upset enough shouting is surely not the best thing to get them calmed and quieted - I'm still learning how to get a grip on my temper before it grips the situation. Seeing that I was aggravated he calmed down and said the words very slowly. "Amazing Grace" mommy. Sing, "Amazing Grace". Almost immediately tears welled in my eyes as the irony struck me. It's too often that I don't have any grace with Elijah. We butt heads like no mother-son combination I've seen before. It's been a true battle for me to be patient with him through this crazy 2s and 3s stage and through the whole speech delay thing. Talking to other mothers with children this age is such a comfort when it confirms that my ridiculous frustrations and ideas of who my son should be are not abnormal. "Grace" is a HUGE struggle for me sometimes in my relationship with Elijah. As me first, I've had to learn along the way what he's capable to knowing, understanding, doing (etc) at each age and stage he reaches. I feel so much more confident in my mothering of Judah simply because I understand better, because of my experiences mothering Elijah, what Judah is capable of. I haven't talked to any parents of multiple children who said they weren't harder on their first than all the rest, so I know it's normal. Some of my reactions to Elijah's behaviors are so lacking grace that I surprise myself. I chuckle when I witness other parents making the same mistakes, not because I think it's funny but simply in commiseration with their situation. There's been time I've even known BEFORE I react that my reaction will not be one of grace and isn't the right way to handle the issue, but I still react. It's so frustrating! I get frustrated with Judah, believe me, but I find myself much more gracious with him than I am with Elijah. A lot of that comes with the ages they are at, but I look back and think of some of the things that Elijah did that Judah is doing and I still feel more gracious with Judah than I did with Elijah at the time. I know this is a normal thing, but I'm daily finding ways to change it, to be more "gracious" with Elijah. It is honestly one of the biggest challenges I've faced as a mother. Don't try to reason with Elijah, just be gracious. What? That is so far opposite of my nature! But how am I to teach him that his creator is the most gracious being of all if he doesn't understand grace because I keep it from him? Yikes! Thats a weight!

I buried my head in my hands for a few minutes and breathed deep to gain my composure before singing a song about something that I all to often do not show him, "amazing grace". It is a "sweet sound", indeed, but he rarely hears it coming from me and oh how that needs to change. This wasn't an epiphany today, just a small and gentle, gracious lesson that my creator gave me through my child that needs grace from me.

What's in a dream?

I had a dream last night about a friend I worked with for a couple years back when I lived in Cheyenne. I haven't seen or heard of him for 10 years. In fact, I think it was right at 10 years ago, maybe a couple months short. As a naive high school girl it didn't really connect with me why we are called to steer clear of being a spiritual "mentor" for members of the opposite sex. Regardless of that warning, however, God really blessed our conversations in the beginning. He was the most inquisitive person I had/have come across when it came to spiritual matters and shared numerous stories with me that made it glaringly obvious to me that God was trying desperately to get his attention. He saw visions, witnessed his own life being saved in disastrous situations where any old Joe would die, was spoken to in his dreams... It just never made sense to me why he was holding back. Even he didn't understand. I prayed for him non stop and our discussions of creation, salvation, grace, unending love, etc continued on for the 2 years we worked together. Toward the end of those two years I really botched all the work that had been put in by started a social life with him outside of work. It was apparent very quickly that we had developed a rather intense emotional connection. How were we not to when we had spend nearly two years discussing the very one who had created us? God was gracious and protected me mightily from a lot of heartache I was setting myself up for. It was obvious to me then why MEN are called to walk aside MEN, and WOMEN are called to walk beside WOMEN in spiritual journeys. My parents soon caught wind of our social time together and did their best to put an immediate end to it. He was invited to church with us, but that was the ONLY time I was to see him. I resented them for tamping out my "friendship" with him, but am more grateful now than I can describe. He left our place of work just a few short months later and thats the last of it. I have NO idea where he is, how he is, who he is. I dream about him now and then, that he's in trouble, in prison, dying, hurt, lost, scared - all sorts of scenarios. How I would LOVE to know how he is, I just don't know that it's my business to track him down. I've been battling with this question all morning. If only I could talk to someone that knows him to find out how he is. I would desperately love to know that I will see his familiar face in Heaven! So here's the challenge for me. WHY has he been so heavy on my heart all these years? Is it because I feel guilty for (in my own words) "botching" all the work God had done on his heart by getting involved emotionally with him? (I know I can't botch God's work) Is it because he really truly was, for a time, one of the best friends I've had? I think he needs my help, without knowing. God has always approached me in my sleep (when I'm quiet enough to listen) to prompt me to pray. He's woken me to pray some very significant happenings, things that were currently happening. I have to pray or I go crazy! I've wandered through this morning typing his name in here and there on Google, have found a couple of matches and closed them out. Last I knew he was in Denver, but again, that was 10 years ago! I'm certain I am called to pray for him, but is that it? Are these dreams I having about him prophetic like my other dreams have been that God has woken me out of to pray? (I know that sounds really over the top to some of you). He wakes me up to intercede. Can't I intercede with more than prayer? If they are prophetic in nature, he is a most unfortunate individual. I suppose it spurs me to pray even harder. Safety, clarity of mind, protection over his soul which very well may be in the middle of a constant spiritual battle. One thing I do know is that God desperately wants him! I witnessed it for those couple of years I was a part of his life. I'm beside myself with impatience. I don't want to wait until the day I see Jesus' face to know if he is there too. To find out that his heart belongs to his creator would be one of my biggest joys in my life, sincerely. (Wouldn't it be just like the heart of Christ to have this feeling of desperation about every unbelieving person we know?!?!) I pray for him. That is all I can do. I feel awkward about hunting him down, mostly because I'm not quite sure how to do it other than calling every match I find for his name. So, I pray.

It's been a long while

I haven't been on here in months. I allowed myself to get scared away when I got a few scoffs about one of the posts I put up. That was forever ago and I'm done with it now. I feel liked we've really turned a corner here with Elijah. We go days sometimes without having to spank and what a breath of fresh air that is! He's been in speech therapy now for about 5 months and it has helped tremendously with his speech AND our frustration level with each other not being able to understand...each other. If he's slow and deliberate with his talking he can be understood for the most part, it's when he gets really excited about something that there's not a hope in the world of hearing individual words. I laugh at myself when I get frustrated with him in these times wondering how my husband feels when I get overly emotional and try to put my thoughts in to words. I have my doubts that I sound much different from my 3 1/2 year old. The biggest block we still have with the speech is his ability to put his complex thoughts in to words. I suppose that comes with age, though. He'll say, "mommy mommy" When I ask him, "yes, Elijah?", he'll say, "Ummmm,......oh nevermind!" It's funny when he says it but I can imagine it's frustrating to know exactly what needs to be said but not have the words to say it. He'll get there. He's a sweet sweet boy! The consistency we've practiced with him in our parenting has really paid off! I encourage those of you trudging through difficulties with you youngens to trudge on in pure consistency - it really does the trick in the long run. He's becoming much better at directing his aggressive nature to productivity. His fits of rage have nearly disappeared and when he feels the need to be crazy-go-nuts he goes outside and shouts to the tree tops about being batman, spiderman, "windman" (his own creation where he takes his fingers and points them straight forward while wiggling them and waving his arms back and forth...it's adorable), iceman, ironman, and really any kind of "man" that can have a some sort of word put in front of it to make it seem super hero-ish. He ADORES his little brother and kisses him at any chance he gets. He kisses his head, his feet, his belly, his hands, whatever is accessible. He tells Judah often that he "loves" him "so much!" Judah delights back. They are truly the best of friends! It's such a joy to watch their friendship grow as Judah communicates more and becomes more mobile. They get WAY crazy sometimes and need intervention, but I try to let things play out as much as I can help. It's hard for me to turn my mom-dar off, but Elijah NEEDS to learn Judah's limits and Judah NEEDS to learn how to toughen up when playing with his stronger and MUCH MUCH MUCH larger older brother. If Elijah were the scrawny one and Judah the girth-y one it may be a different story, but as they are it is an interesting match, for sure! Elijah has taken a new interest in music, particularly worship music. Nary a night or nap time goes by that he doesn't ask us to sing, "Jesus loves me" and "Jesus loves the little children." He always throw in at the last minute as we are shutting the door, "sing, You've got a friend in me", another of his favorites (from Toy Story). He sings to himself as he moseys through his day. There's been times we've told him too many times to be quiet in bed and we'll hear him and head to deal with the issue only to find him singing, "Jesus loves me" to himself. Then, of course, we listen for a few moments with peace and let him alone to worship in his own little way.

Judah is blossoming in every possible way (except walking - he'll get there). His personality is bursting from every part of him. He communicates with this adorable little high pitched "uhn?" and uses a few signs to differentiate the meaning of the "uhn". He knows "eat", "drink", "all done" and a few others sometimes and the rest of the time he says, "uhn" he's pointing with his skinny little pointer finger at an object, demanding to know what it is. He tries repeating the sound and sometimes come very close to the actual word. It will be very interesting to see how differently he develops from Elijah in the area of speech. Having an older brother who is rarely quiet is a huge plus when it comes to learning how to talk. They are constantly babbling back and forth. If Elijah leaves the room or Judah notices that he's not around he shouts at the top of his lungs, "I-uh?" It's adorable, of course. He LOVES to dance along with any type of music and sings his way through his day. He'll play, sometimes for a solid hour at a time, by himself just singing and dancing. His laugh is simply intoxicating and he has a smile that spreads the entire width of his face. He snuggly, affectionate (sort of the same thing, I know), and has a sense of humor about odd things beyond his level of understanding (or so it seems - perhaps he just loves to laugh). He has a temper that can stop a clock, however, and if fed too late is quite the tyrant to deal with! That boy knows how to throw a fit. Given time he calms down, but it's always on his own accord. He will not be distracted from his own fit of rage. :) I'm sure he will be a challenge in his own way as he ages, but we are just relishing in his adorable baby-ness right now.

I'm sure this has made up for my many frustrated blasts of words I've posted about my mothering and my children. They bless me and frustrate me all along at the same time, but ultimately I love both of them more than I know how to express.