GAP casting call - I thought this would be fun - and maybe I'm bias, but I think he's cute enough! :)

I entered Elijah too, but for some reason the 3 entries that I posted for him are not showing up.  :(

Go vote for Judah!

http://www.gapcastingcall.com/GapCastingCall/EntryDetail.html?id=894497

TRASH TRASH TRASH!!! It makes me want to SCREAM!

I have just absolutely HAD IT with the GARBAGE all over the internet! It makes me sick to my stomach and honestly makes me want to scream! I really mean that. I want to scream about it. I was following a new story today about a friend and up popped an add for a magazine that just printed, on it's front cover, a completely inappropriate and racey picture of the 3 main characters in the "Glee" cast. I'm all fired up about it, and I find the need to vent about the issue in general. The human race is so completely depraved as it is, we really don't need any help with it! Flopping your bosoms ALL OVER our web pages sucks young men and old in to a vicious trap of peering at something that is NOT theirs to peer at! There's a reason clothes exist! TO COVER UP! Any what of our little girls? What does it tell them? What has it screamed it my face? I NEEEEED to be a rail with HUGE FREAKING jugs to fit the bill. I've struggled my ENTIRE life to pull myself away from the magnetic draw that society has shoved in my face! This is going to be a short lived post. I'm angry and this post is serving as a vent to my anger. I'd like to be able to feel safe pulling up face book and NOT have to worry about seeing some woman's barely clothes body strewn out along the right hand column claiming to advertise whatever line of women's wear. I'm tired of boobs, cracks and crotches being displayed where they DO NOT belong! COVER IT UP! Uhhhhhhhh! I want to scream! Have mercy on our men, our young boys and even our girls of ALL ages and COVER YOURSELF UP! PLEASE! I beg you! Respect yourself! Don't be sucked in to the black hole our PERVERT society has created! All of those who would love to scream out with me, say "I"! Let my fury and anger be a motivator to pray for our sick world! Join with me in praying for protection for the eyes that should NOT be seeing everything that is available to see!

little "faither"

We've been attending a church these last several weeks that is barely a year old.  It's a church plant that meets in a high school auditorium and for the time being streams in messages from Andy Stanley's church, North Point Community, in Georgia.  These last two weeks he's been teaching a series he calls, "Why worry?"  I feel like it was custom written for me.  I've been a "worry wart" my ENTIRE life!  I remember lying in bed worrying when I was merely 5 years old.  I have always been able to find something to worry about.  He made a painful, truthful and eye opening point when he said that living in worry is living just as atheists and pagans do.  Ouch!   Atheists and Pagans, I am not here to judge you, but I have chosen this life of faith in Christ specifically to avoid the life you live from day to day.  You may not understand why we "believers" put our faith in a man that lived over 2000 years ago, but living without trusting in him and having faith in him is terrifying.  I know, I've experienced it.  I prefer to NOT have the constant nag of being in control of my own circumstances - we all know how much we DO NOT have control over our circumstances!  Being able to rely on the fact that the Creator of our entire universe and being really honestly does have everything figured out and DOES have our best interest in mind gives me a peace that burns that feeling of hopelessness to ashes.  Again, I am not called to judge you, but I do continuously pray that there will be a day that you decide that this Jesus that so many of us follow will become someone you can look to with your challenges and realize that he is indeed real and trustworthy.  He is the best of friends, indeed!  

This all, however, is beside the point.  I was lying in bed on Thursday night, the 23rd of last month, weeping once again about the current condition of my left ear.  No doctor has been able to shed light on what is truly wrong with it.  I've grown more and more discouraged over the past 9 months with my rapidly diminishing hearing and sense of balance.  It day to day struggle I've had with it since this past January have profoundly effected the way I live each day.  This is where those messages about "why worry?" come in.  My worry in this ailment as not stopped at just the reasonable worries you would expect.  I've let me mind run hog wild with ideas of being inept as a mother, being completely bed ridden as someone else raises my kids for me.  I've had visions of driving off the road to mine and my children's death due to "drop attacks" of virtigo (I've never experienced a true "drop attach", but you just never know...see, that is the way my brain works - I worry about ridiculous things).  I, over time, have become completely consumed with my condition.  Is it Meniere's or Labrynthitis or maybe a whole new disease...Storey disease!?  I've had head scans, hearing tests, inner ear hearing tests, Meniere's tests, allergy tests....blah blah blah and the list goes on.  NOTHING!  So, as I was in bed weeping I BEGGED, pleaded with God to PLEASE, for goodness sake, give me some sort of reassurance that I wasn't laying and crying out to nothing, to no one.  PLEASE Jesus, restore my hearing so I know you haven't deserted me!  Give me this, if even just for a day!  Please let me know you are still holding me in and through this!  I've run everywhere else and nothing has worked (surprise surprise).  Show me you are in this!  I woke up the next morning to an ear that was functioning at nearly full capacity.  I COULD HEAR for the first time in months!  My condition became significantly worse after moving to Florida.  It used to be that I would have a few days every month where I couldn't hear very well out of my left ear, but shortly after we moved here it changed to only being able to actually hear out that ear for 1 or 2 every couple of weeks.  It got bad!  My vertigo attacks had disappeared for a while but returned with a vengeance, I developed an ulcer....things got bad! (I know, it's all relative)  I've never been good about fasting from food.  I've fasted from other things, but always assumed that my tendency to get the shakes after being without food for just a few hours was good indication that fasting from food just isn't for me.  Well, that Friday morning a couple weeks ago where I woke up and could hear, I felt a strong nudge to fast.  So, I did.  Throughout the day even the tinnitus in my left ear diminished.  I felt completely liberated.  It was a busy day, so I didn't spend much time praying (as is the point of fasting - when you are feeling overwhelmed of the pains of hunger you are reminded to pray - pray instead of eat).  I prayed here and there throughout the day and at the day's end I felt pretty strongly led to stop eating gluten.  So, that is what I've done.  I've gone gluten free and a short road though it's been it's been really difficult.  That stupid stuff is in EVERYTHING!  I've received overwhelming support from my peers on Facebook and emails from family members giving me links to good websites with recipes and gluten free food references.  I noticed within a few days of cutting gluten out that my energy level increased significantly.  my general sense of wellbeing improved and I feel like I have more body strength than I have in years.  I just feel good!  Well, I woke up this morning and my ear is "stuffing" (thats the only way I know how to explain it - it's not my middle ear, its my inner ear - it just feels stuffy and full and my hearing in turn decreases).  The panic and worry come back.  I find it funny that these past couple weeks I've been able to give God all the credit for leading me to stop eating Gluten and praise him for what he's doing in my faith and my trust and my life in this process, and then I wake up this morning and JUST because my ear is doing it's silly routine again I start to panic.  These next questions are the actual questions that have been running through my head this morning, read them with panic, like they were your own questions.  "Oh no!  What if Gluten isn't the only thing I'm supposed to cut out?"  "Why is this happening again?  Did I eat something with gluten?"  They are probably less dramatic and panicked ridden going through your head than mine, but I truly have been in a panic.  The white noise has returned, the stuffiness, the hard hearing...it's back.  What I have to remind myself is that for the past 9 months this has been the routine of my left inner ear.  It has suffered MUCH damage in these months and expecting that it will simply heal immediately upon cutting out gluten is expecting too much.  I believe whole heartedly that God is the one that led me to be gluten free.  So I obeyed.  He blessed me these past couple weeks with better hearing than I've had in months and oh what a sweet sweet blessing it has been.  I am a "little faither".  As soon as a problem arises I let the panic and worry flood back in!  It's super easy to trust him when I can hear and I feel like I'm healing, but it's much more challenging when this condition re presents itself.  Andy Stanley said "worry" is a preoccupation with tomorrow.  Have any of us EVER EVER EVER been able to control what happens tomorrow, or even in the next hour, EVER?  So, what the crap is the point of worrying about it!  IT DOES NO GOOD!  Worrying actually wipes days off of our lives!  Worrying is like prayer, in reverse.  There's a direct relationship between the size of our worry and the size of our faith.  Worry is a trust issue.  Worry is snatching, out of God's hand, control over our lives.  Our human ness tells us we have to be in control over EVERYTHING, but we aren't, so whats the point of trying.  It only makes us worry.  I dream of the day I can live a worry free life.  Oh how liberating that will be!  It's a daily battle for me to hand over control of my life to a man that lived over 2000 years ago and I've never physically seen face to face, but it certainly beats the alternative of being in constant worry, anxiety and utter consumption with my inability to control anything at all - which in turn creates a debilitating sense of hopelessness.  

Dear GOD, what am I supposed to do?!?

We have, in the last several days, seen behavior unlike any behavior before from our 3 year old, Elijah.  He is more of a struggle for me to parent that I could have ever prepared for.  It is ONLY the grace of God that will get us through this stage of his development.  He seems to have reached a new height of rebellion and inappropriate self assertion.  Yesterday with him was rough, but today was a whole new adventure.  My husband held me to him and let me weep in to his chest as I rambled on about how entirely angry Elijah makes me.  I cried on his shoulder for a good 5 or 10 minutes and finally felt my heart calm it's rapid beating.  Elijah was put to bed early tonight due to a rather bewildering display of hysteria over the haircut I was giving him.  He simply would not calm down.  He kicked and screamed and hit and just generally went ballistic.  He came to the top of the stairs to tell us that he wanted me to come pray with him.  Josh had showered him off and put him to bed while I was downstairs clenching my fists and taking some slooooow, deeep breaths.  I went up to pray with him.  I knelt down by his bed, tears streaming on to his pillow.  He reached up and brushed my hair aside and held my face as he said, "You sad."  I gulped and replied, "yes, bud, I am.  I am sad that you choose to disobey and I am sad that we have such a hard time having fun.  It makes me sad when you scream at me and hit me and tell me to get away from you.  I am sad that I get so angry with you.  I am sad that I am not a very good mommy sometimes."  I voiced a few more of the reasons why I was sad and he gently interrupted me, tapping his finger on his chest saying, "Me too, Mommy.  Makes me sad too."  Now his pillow was soaked, mascara streamed down my face and he said, "pray please, mommy.  I need to pray."  Talk about choking up.  I began the most genuine prayer I have ever prayed over or with him, pouring my heart out to him and to God as I begged, on my knees by my child's bed, that God would give us a new love for one another.  I pleaded for patience on my part and compliance on his.  I hid none of my sorrow from God tonight as I left my heart and my tears on my 3 year old son's pillow.  Elijah had his eyes clamped shut during most the prayer but would every now and then peek open and watch me plead and cry.  He would frown, his eyes would water and he'd clamp them back shut, grasping his hands together as tightly as possible.  I finished the prayer, stroked his hair and kissed his forehead.  He touched my face again.  I cried, he watched.  Elijah has an extraordinarily sensitive heart.  I rarely cry in front of him for this reason.  He fully understood, tonight, why I was hurting so badly.  We hugged, exchanged a genuine, "I love you" and I left the room.  Will this be a turning point in my relationship with my son?  Dear Jesus, please!  After pouring my heart out to my son, praying with him, loving on him and pleading with our creator and claiming the healing that I KNOW is waiting for us, I don't feel how I usually feel after a fall out like Elijah and I had this evening.  I know the healing has begun and I will claim it with my every breath! 

Hey there Nutella! I adore you!

I've loved Nutella since making it's acquaintance back in 2002 at Covenant Bible College in Strathmore AB, Canada.  That is where our love relationship started.  I've been able to manage our love within reason until recently.  My adoration for it has been soaring to new heights since we moved to Florida and the stress in my life has increased.  My 3 year old also finds great delight in Nutella and I often find myself hiding behind the cupboard door to shove down as many Nutella dipped pretzels as possible before he notices my absence and comes on the look out for me.  I usually manage to get one last delightful taste of the creamy spread before he comes around the corner, but often I will invite him to enjoy it with me.  Today for lunch I have a chicken breast sizzle pop frying on the stove.  It's perfectly seasoned with "True Lemon" lemon powder and Mrs Dash's Garlic and Herb seasoning (sodium free).  I was hungrier than usual for lunch today.  I stood for a minute staring at the olive oil pop in the pan after I sprinkled in the seasoning to sauté before adding the chicken breast.  Knowing the chicken breast would take several minutes I felt impatient with having to wait to make my wrap.  I turned slowly and gazed at the cupboard across the way.  It holds the key to hunger and stress relief.  It houses within it's wooden confines that delicious relief that beacons me to partake of it's smooth sweet creaminess.  I opened the door and there sat Nutella, staring me down and whispering in my ear how convenient it was that my "Snyder's of Hanover" unsalted Minis were sitting right beside it.  There is 11g of fat in ONE serving of Nutella.  I ate at least 2 servings in the 5 or 6 minutes it took for my chicken breast to sauté.  It is my vice.  In that 2 tbls serving there is ONLY 15mg of sodium!  Can you believe it?  A snack food that has so little sodium?!  In reviewing my weakness for the spread I've come to the conclusion that this is the very reason I am so addicted to it of late.

 I've recently decided to adhere to my physicians recommendations and strive to consume under 1500 milligrams a day (at the most!).  Until I set out upon this quest I hadn't the slightest idea how difficult this task would be.  There is salt it EVERYTHING!  I assumed that baked goods would be safe...why?...because they don't taste salty.  Turns out (most of you probably knew this, but I never took the time to realize it) that baking soda and baking powder are laced with sodium.  I mean, they are packed!  One measly teaspoon of  baking soda has 1280mg of sodium.  Holy moses!  Baking powder isn't quite as bad, but it still loads you down with sodium if you are eating a baked product that has a lot of height (like big poofy pastries and such - even a slice of bread).  So much for my mom's buttermilk biscuit recipe that I loved so dearly!  I'm alloted the equivalent of 1/4 tsp of salt per day.  That means, since nearly EVERYTHING has sodium already added in or naturally occuring within I add NO salt to ANYTHING!  Yeah, it sucks!  I always felt like I was creative with my cooking, but this has taken creativity in culinary arts to a level to which I have never claimed to be capable.  Salt fixes everything.  My dad's wife, Meleny, puts salt on her salad!  Why?  Because it tasted hellagood!  "Salt of the earth", "salt and light" and on and on.  There's a reason we dwell on salt.  It's DE LIC IOUS!  It's the fix-all!  Mrs. Dash has been a life saver with her (you suppose it's actually a her, or just a company?) menagerie of delicious spice blends, but they are all missing one thing...salt.  They would be complete in their deliciousness if they were to include that one simple substance.  

The most ironic part of all this is that I haven't really noticed a marked difference in the health and wellbeing of my left inner ear.  I don't have a freaking clue what is wrong with it and nor does any one else.  It doesn't fit the bill for anything anyone is familiar with.  For a while my vertigo went away, I mean for months!  It was wonderful.  I still went through the normal cycle of only being able to hear "normally" out of my left ear for mere hours or, if i was really lucky, a day.  But the vertigo is back.  Not with full force, but it's certainly hindered my ability, at times, to move much quicker than a little old lady with a walker.  I often panic thinking what my life would be like if the vertigo takes over.  We'd have to hire a full time nanny and I would lay in bed all day, trying my best to not vomit from the nausea the verigo causes, while listening to my children laugh and giggle and live their lives downstairs...without me.  Of course I would have to strain to hear any of the laughing and giggling because more often than not I am only able to hear a handful of pitches and sounds out of my left ear.  Depressing?  I think so!  This is Satan's (that bastard!) filthy mouth whispering fear in to my life.  

(discontented sigh) The low salt doesn't seem to make a difference.  In fact, the vertigo seems to have arrived back AFTER I started lowering my sodium intake.  Tell me if that makes sense!  I'll tell you, it doesn't!  I often trying bargaining with God.  It's one of the steps of grief after all.  I've realized lately that just when I think I've found my peace with the predicament I'm in, the cycle of grief starts all over again.  I'm sure if it will end, ever.  If not, then I've got to figure out how to cope.  Nutella is delicious and wonderful and fine for now, but it does nothing for me other than provide FANTASTIC taste bud stimulation while it's on my tongue.  I have wept, prayed, read, begged, questioned, and angered time and time again about this issue.  God is choosing to remain silent for the time being.  I don't understand why, but I'm glad he knows.  

Love, protect, show, grow, nurture - is that all I have to do? Ha! How simple!

I get this weird realization some days that in all I do, all the stress involved in directing young lives, mediating, teaching, disciplining, scolding, correcting, distracting, loving, playing, cleaning, dressing, feeding, burping, wiping....all the exhausting things that come with being a mother involve not doing much at all. I'm lucky if I have the house in any semblance of order by the time the sun sinks below the horizon. At times I see a productive day worth some serious pride comes when I've managed to keep the house from falling apart completely, have actually fixed dinner for the family (something other than a freezer meal) and am still able to stand long enough to do the dishes once the boys are in bed. Throw an errand or two in there, or maybe a walk in the morning or folding a basket of laundry or two and it's taken to a whole new level! My days are jam packed with....not much at all. The energy this sucks out of me can be measured in 5 gallon buckets. This job of mine, being a stay-at-home mom is exhausting, rewarding, challenging, frustrating, infuriating, humorous, totally unglamorous most the time, and has proven to be the biggest challenge I've faced in life thus far. Along with having a husband in residency, an ear that can't seem to figure out how to function correctly, a recent relocation across vast lands away from any and all family, a 3 year old who "forgot" for quite some time that he was ever potty trained, heat that will melt your skin off and various viruses coming and going... you end up getting me, a woman who more often than not is exhausted, frustrated, can't hear all that well and has more to do than time to do it. This is mother hood for me right now. It is hard, and for what?

We were cleaning and organizing the garage the other night and I ran across a box of stacks of papers from my childhood, from grade school and from home. Books, report cards, valentines cards, pictures, crafts, projects from school and projects I did at home all sat patiently as I picked through them and took a vivid trip down memory lane with each. My mind was flooded with smells, sounds, memories, loves, losses and hurts as I picked through the stack. . I teared up and giggled to myself as I dug through them. I found myself mourning that loss of freedom, my childhood, my parents broken marriage, my childhood friends, the home where I grew for 11 years, my closeness to my sister, and ultimately the simplicity of being a child. I laughed as I read the nearly incomprehensible story books I wrote growing up, the valentines cards I received from grade school classmates that I now am blessed to be able to stay in contact with via Facebook, pictures and notes from my best friend at the time, Rachel Dotson, get well notes from my classmates for the various occasions that I was sick and the many more occasions where I faked being sick for weeks at a time, old child I.D. cards, notes and drawings I made for my parents, pictures upon pictures telling the tale of my childhood obsession with horses, horse books, horse pictures, horse calendars, horse drawings, horse posters, horse anything.

I had an epiphany, as I was siphoning through the papers, about what my job is. If I can give my children, Elijah and Judah and whoever else God blesses us with, a childhood that was as fulfilling as the childhood my parents provided for me, I will be satisfied in my ability to mother. They taught me how to seek after Jesus. They taught me that they were trustworthy, that they would love me in all circumstances. They allowed me, a challenge though it was at times I'm sure, to be myself. (big rabbit trail coming up) My hoarding, pat rack, messy and unorganized self. My dad spent hours upon hours with me out in the "big garage" teaching me how to build things. I would plead with him to come out to the garage and put a pile of nails and some wood down for me to play with. This was the best toy he ever gave me! I LOVED that time with my father and a lot of that had to do with, I'm sure, his support of who I was. To this day making things is very therapeutic for me. There is a bit of my dad in every piece (unprofessional though they appear) of furniture I build. He supported a love of mine and helped it grow. I still like to take pictures of things I've made and email them to Dad. I love the pride in his face when he sees what I've made and I love hearing him choke up when I tell him that he has a lot to do with my love for building things. My mother spent hours reading poetry to me on the days I was home sick, (legitimately sick or not...though she never knew the difference :). We would sit on the couch and read out of the "Childcraft" books volume 1, "Poems of Early Childhood". I found such peace in this time spent with my mother reading by her side. I wrote poetry and short stories as a child (and have shared a rare few with a rare few of people for a very good reason....they aren't good. :) I still LOVE poetry, to read and to write it!) She would take me to Pamida and we'd load up on popsicle sticks, cotton balls, beads and whatever other cheap things I could find to feed my creative bent. We'd come home and I'd spent an hour or two hidden away in my room making whatever I could think up out of the craft supplies she'd purchased for me and the piles of garbage hidden in my closet that I'd scavenged from the trash pales around the house. My mother loathed my tendency to rummage through the trash and "stash" things away in my closet, but she allowed me to do so to encourage who she saw I was. She allowed me to be myself in this way. I am much less of a pack rat than I was as a young child, but I will be the first to admit that I remain a "stasher" (as my mom put it) and my husband will attest to the menagerie of items we have moved from house to house simply for the sake of a possibility of using them to "make" something with them someday. And I do. We do not move them in vain. :)

Elijah is young yet for me to have much of a chance of noticing tendencies that he has (other than just being a typical boy), but I am getting better about seeking out loves of his. Will he like to create things like I do? Will he like to read poetry like I do? Will he be a book worm like his dad and spend endless time with his nose in between pages? What will Judah be like as Elijah's age? What will be grow to love? What will give him peace and be something they will remember as 27 year old men that I helped them do growing up?

The things I am called to do as a mother are overwhelming but oh so simple in their nature. I am called to teach my children, first and foremost, to seek after Jesus with all they are. (forgive me if my grammar gets a little whacky. I was writing "he" and "his" when I realized that it is now "they" "their" and "them".. :)Teach them to follow Jesus and grow their hearts ever bigger for the lost and weary in this world. Seek to be like Jesus, know Jesus and love Jesus more than even his own self. (how the heck do you teach that? Monkey see, monkey do. I have been anything but a consistent example in this area and the irony lies in the fact that simply seeking Jesus, loving Jesus and knowing Jesus with all my being would in turn make me a better mother...) Grow who Elijah and Judah are. Help them nurture what they love (Elijah loves to beat on things, rip and break...how do I grow that in to something productive? Ufta!) Encourage creativity in the areas I see it arise. Accept them and love them without question whether I feel like it or not on any given day. (for Elijah, simply being a 3 year old lends itself to having a mother who is often annoyed and irritated and finds it hard to muster up motivation to sit down and grow creativity out of fear at the risk of battling yet another fit or whining episode - mother's of 3ish year olds, I'm sure you are sensitive to my weariness). I protect my boys against harm ,whether it be physical or emotional (it's hard to admit that I have, at times, been the very source of emotional harm - I'm sure every parent is sensitive to this - good thing God is gracious and that our children still love us! I've inserted foot in to mouth a few times too late, in my parenting days, at the height of frustration.) I find myself at my strongest in this area when it comes to spiritual protection. Elijah has struggled (as I have from a very VERY young age) with nightmares. We know the source of fear. We know the source of doubt, of anxiety. Night time for me, when my defenses are down, is prime time for attack. Satan uses this to his advantage if I am not diligent in protecting myself from it with prayer. He targets my children, and I tell you what, that gets my gander up for sure! I DO NOT put up with Satan striking fear in to the hearts of my little ones! NO SIR! He has no place in their hearts, their room, or our house. This is not his house! I walked in to Elijah's room, back when he was 18 months or so, for the 3rd night in a row. I was frustrated with his persistent crying and confused at what had been waking him so often the past few nights. I knelt down by his bed to stroke his hair and looked in to eyes that were wide open, bloodshot from crying and held a look of fear. I knew what I was up against. It took only moments to remind that bastard, Satan, who is boss. Surely not him! Silly, Satan is, to think he can mask himself from me. I am well versed in his tactics! He is a rotten SOB and I recognize him quickly when it comes to nightmares (I suppose he masked himself well for 2 nights in a row, but he doesn't any more!)

That was a long rabbit trail all to say I am called to protect my children.

Love them, protect them, help them grow, nurture their loves, show them Jesus. It isn't "nothing" I do all day. Even if I haven't done the dishes in a few days or our outfits each day are pulled from a wrinkly basket full of clean clothes, or we ALL have "Tyson" chicken nuggets, cheese chunks and cold canned green beans for dinner, I have done my job if I have loved, protected, grown, nurtured, and showed (Jesus) (and I know thats not grammatically correct) my children. It's the hardest job their is, but it's so easy. Be like Jesus, yikes! Thats NOT easy! No wonder I'm getting more bald with each passing day. :)

My childhood was incredible! My parents loved, protected, nurtured, growed (I know, I know!) and showed (I know!) me. If I can do this for my boys, for all our children, phew, I will have achieved much, indeed!

pathetic potty training parental

I FUMED inside my head as I cleaned poop streaks from the shower walls and doors this morning. My son Elijah turned 3 on the 13th of July. We half heartedly attempted to potty train him when he was just past his 2nd birthday and it proved, in less than 3 days, to be a colossal waste of time. He picked up on it just fine as we showered him with candy, cookies, UN watered down juice (a very rare thing for him, indeed!), new toys, sticker chart and briefs with his all time favorite faux sentient being, Elmo. He cared little about his Cookie Monster undies or even the ones with Grover or Big Bird. He only ever wanted to wear Elmo. We were given advice (of course we were!) to NOT put him in pull ups when we were REALLY buckling down to train him. Pull ups, great as they are after the fact (in case of absent minds in public) still wick away moisture and mask the feeling of messiness that a child needs to become familiar with. I cringed, not once or twice but repeatedly at the thought of scrubbing poo from my couch cushions, rugs, bed sheets, chairs and wherever he would be sitting to discover that "messy" feeling. In the end, when he was two, it just didn't end up mattering. He wasn't able to figure out the coordination to pull down his own underpants. Few accidents were had on the rug or couch or anywhere else. I mentioned before, he had plenty of incentive to remember that pee pee and poo poo go INNNNNNNNN the potty. I think I cleaned 2 puddles off the living room rug, one off the couch (it wasn't much of a puddle) and a few off the pergo flooring (my all time favorite spot for him to become familiar with that "messy" feeling). He would scream back to the bathroom yelling, "pee pee mommyyyyy!". I'd race back with him and help him pull his underpants down. He'd sit, pause, strain.....and then the wonderful sound of a stream hitting the bottom of his little toilet. Music to our ears! I'd jump up from my crouching position, hoot and holler, turn a few circles...you know, put on a real show for the kid to let him know how excited he was hoping I would be. I WAS excited. Maybe he was really catching on. The first day passed with 4 accidents, the 2nd day with only 2 accidents and the last day I released him into the wild. Be free young child. You have now officially become part of....those of us who can relieve ourselves on our own with no one else's help. The right of passage was getting FULL TIME usage of his new "up up Elmo" toy. We saved it, those first couple days, for when he would use the potty successfully. I had full confidence that he was now graduated from diaper-hood and deserved sole rights to the toy. At the end of day 3 I made an executive decision to postpone ALL further potty training attempts for at least 6 months. Elijah hadn't a clue how to pull his underpants down. I showed him countless times only to receive back a reaction that told me he simply wasn't ready. Now, he still went to the bathroom on the potty...but fully clothed. Sweat pants, tighty whities....the whole bit.
Our second attempt came this past spring and Elijah was successfully fully trained in just 3 days! I beamed from ear to ear with accomplishment and satisfaction in my work of art (a child who could no relieve himself on his own without anyone else's help). He went nearly 3 months with few accidents. He was all grown up at 2 and a half in the department of... relieving himself without anyone else's help.


Then we moved.


Life is starting to calm down, finally. Elijah stays busy playing with his new friends and thoroughly enjoys having his own HUGE backyard fully equipped with his own 25 dollar blow up pool from the Walmart and his sun faded Little Tykes climber.
Things are falling in to place. This, among other reasons, is why I do NOT understand why he chooses, on a daily basis for some stretches in time, to mess himself. On many occasions it will be in plain sight of me or his daddy (when daddy is home). He'll be playing, doing whatever, having a grand old time. He stops, looks at me contemplatively.....and then there it is. That all too familiar smell, or puddle forming below his feet. Today was the most recent offense. We had gone on a walk early this morning. We got home and I sat down to feed Judah his breakfast before his morning nap time. Elijah was in and out of the room, here and there, playing and running. I don't even remember what happened. He did something naughty, and I explained what it was, we discussed it and I asked him to stop. He left the room without responding. I finished feeding Judah and loaded the boys up to clock the distance I had walked. I loaded Judah and went around to buckle Elijah. As I leaned forward to grab his buckle he stared at me, head pressed back in to his seat. I am so familiar with that look. It can't lie. I asked him if he pooped his pants and he squinted his eyes into slits. "No." I asked again. "No". I pulled him out of the van and pulled the back of his shorts out to take a peak. "You pooped" I informed him. "Yeah" was the reply. "But I just asked you and you said no, twice. Why?" I looked at him, confused. "My donts know." he said. We went back in the house. I took his shoes off and put him in the shower. I handed him 5 or 6 wipes, shut the shower door and asked him if he knew what to do. "yeah" he said, "clean up my own mess." (a well established rule in our house) He griped and whined for a while, wiping as best he could and then fell quiet. I listened....nothing....then, "vroooom vroom!" "Bang bang. Oh no!!!! No no." I walked in to find him flailing back and forth while holding on to the shower doors with his poop smeared hands.
The rest is easy to imagine. I showered him off, scrubbing his messed skin with my bare hands. I handed him a towel and sprayed the shower down with disinfectant. This has happened three times now. It is seriously infuriating to me that he chooses to poop his pants. I told Joshua this morning that I'm not at the end of my rope with potty training, I just don't have any rope left. I've asked Elijah on several occasions why he has chosen to poop or pee his pants and he, nearly every time, informs me that it's because he's mad at me for asking him to do something he didn't want to do or to stop doing something that is naughty. He gets mad, hides, and poops. It's his way of controlling the situation I suppose, when he's mad that he's not allowed to break the rules.
So, it's back to square one. Toys, stickers, junk food PACKED with sugar - rewards rewards rewards. Joshua told me that the frontal lobe of the brain is where we house our ability to understand cause and effect. Though there are MANY things for which he FULLY understands cause and effect, this apparently is having a harder time sticking. The "rewards" center of the brain (as my husband put it) is developed MUCH earlier. We enter the world with this clicking along at a healthy speed. Newborns scream as loud as their tiny lungs allow, to get what they want - food, comfort, a change of diaper, mommy (whatever it may be). Thats why they cry. To get what they want. Keeping that in mind, we will continue with the theme of cleaning up one's own mess, but it will be paired, much to Elijah's delight, with hoards of candy, cookie, sticker and toy rewards as a pat on the back for putting things where they belong....INNNNNN the potty! (I know. A run on sentence.)

Parenting doesn't come as naturally to me as I had hoped. I really have a hard time being a mother. I LOVE it, don't doubt that for a second. But it is, without a doubt, the hardest job I can imagine having to do. Sometimes I wish I had a part time job to get away from this full time job (a feeling shared by many of my peers, I'm sure). I suppose the fact that I thought I had potty trained Elijah in 3 days only to be STILL working on it 6 months later makes me feel like somewhat of a failure at my job. I'm not completely secure in my ability to parent my children (though I am blessed to know that God chose ME specifically to parent them), so it comes as a hard blow when something like this doesn't take successfully, for months! This child truly has a mind of his own and the will of an ox (a will that is much often opposite of mine) and I look forward to the day, with great anticipation, that he decides he is ready to buckle down and take the time necessary to relieve himself without anyone else's help.

through the ringer we have gone. Or.....are going...

We introduced that plague of death into our house a few days back. It clearly hasn't killed any of us, but there have been times these past couple days that I have thought it would be easier to simply be dead than to have to endure the discomfort and pain this virus has presented to me. Elijah woke up from his nap time on Monday, walked out to where I was on Face book (imagine that!) and stated in a very matter-of-fact tone, "I watch movie, NOW!" He glared at me and stood, half awake as he stared me down. I chuckled a little and let him know that a movie wasn't on the agenda, but getting back in to bed was. He clearly had not had enough sleep. The hour or so following his nap I noticed abnormal behavior which culminated my confusion when he asked me if he could lay down on the kitchen floor. The floor is tile. I led him back into the living room and told him to hop up on the couch where he fell, exhausted, on to a pillow. I felt his forehead with my wrist and left to get a thermometer. 102.6. Oh man, here we go! I put my hand on parts of his body and said, "does this part hurt? We concluded that his tummy hurt, so I was preparing for vomiting, which has been absent thus far in the duration of this virus. I snuggled him in with juice and a movie and scolded myself for not picking up on the clues for the past hour of fussiness and lethargy. I gave him ibuprofen and kept about my work. Before bed that night I noticed I had a strange urge to cough, but I had to force myself to cough to relieve the feeling. The cough wasn't coming naturally. I thought nothing of it. I woke up Tuesday morning with a scratchiness in my throat and a sinking suspicion that this was no coincidence! Elijah seemed to improve throughout the day on Tuesday, which I was grateful for considering it was his birthday. My symptoms got worse throughout the day. I explained to my husband on the phone in mid morning that I "feel like I got hit by a truck!". If what I was feeling like then was the feeling of being hit by a truck, then the vehicle that hit me last night was march larger and more destructive! Every extremity ached. It didn't stop there, either. It felt as though I had been jamming the base of my skull on a hard service for some time. The pain in my knees resembled the pain that I experienced at the beginning of track season in middle school after my first practice on the hurdles. My elbows hurt, my wrists hurt, all my joints hurt. We got home from taking Elijah to eat at Chic-Fil-A (his all time favorite because of the airplane in the play place) and we still had an hour to kill before the kids bedtimes. I didn't know what to do with myself. I sat on the chair in our living room with Judah while Josh helped Elijah open his new birthday toys. I bounced Judah on my legs as he hummed. Josh looked over and said, "are you going to hold on to him, honey?". He was half way to my shins with only my hand on his torso keeping him in place. He didn't seem to mind so I just mumbled, "yeah" and closed me eyes again. I had turned the ceiling fan on because I felt overheated but soon after had Josh turn it off because the air it moved around hurt my skin when it blew by me and it was blowing my hair against my face. Even that hurt. We got the kids to bed and Josh packed up to go help a guy move furniture in to an apartment. I took an Excedrin PM, watched a movie for a bit and and went to bed when the P.M. portion of the medicine took effect. I woke up writhing in discomfort in the early morning and Josh brought me Tylenol. We woke this morning at 6am to Elijah standing at the foot of our bed with a blood soaked shirt and a red face and hands. This child picks his nose, incessantly! This isn't the first time he's given himself a bloody nose from picking, but is certainly trumped the others in blood volume lost. I was cleaning up a bit after putting the boys down for their naps this afternoon and found random blood splatters on the walls, around light switches, in the shower, and on rugs. That child is a bleeder for sure! It took Josh a good 15 minutes in the shower with Elijah to get the bleeding to stop. All the while I laid in bed fighting to gain full consciousness as I listened for any sign of Judah waking up. Elijah was wailing in the shower downstairs while Josh washed him. It had nothing to do with pain, since bloody noses don't really hurt, but everything to do with the fact that Elijah is terrified of blood! he panics and screams every time he given himself a bleed. I heard Judah wake at 6:15 and don't remember much in between when he woke up and when I brought him back to our bed to feed him at 6:30. Even nursing him hurt. He likes to pull on my shirt when he's nursing and I remember feeling like my skin under my shirt was going to peel right off if he kept pulling. We had to drive Josh in to the clinic because he left his car when we picked him up to go eat at Chic-Fil-A. I'm not sure how we made it back home without an accident. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open on the drive home. I stuck a movie on for Judah, continued to dab Elijah's nose every now and then with a cleanex and checked the clock every five minutes and desperate hope that it would skip forward to Judah's morning nap time. It arrived none-to-soon. After I put him to bed I put a movie on for Elijah and locked the front door. I told him to stay in the living room and that mommy was going to rest on the couch for a bit. I dosed in and out for an hour and a half or so. Maybe not the best idea but the only idea I felt I was capable of coming up with for the time being. He obeyed wonderfully. When I would jerk awake because it had been too quiet for too long I was comforted by the sight of him sitting on the rug with his legs crossed, quietly watching "Cars" and holding one of his new toys. Judah woke up earlier than usual from his nap but went down again an hour later for about 40 minutes. We toughed through the morning and sitting here I can honestly not remember all that much of it. Judah started getting uncharacteristically fussy before lunch time and I was disheartened to find that he's wince and cry with every touch on his skin. His hands and forehead felt warmer than usual. I didn't even bother checking his temp, I just gave him some Tylenol in the assumption that it was his turn now. I can honestly say that I'd rather take another couple days of this thing than have to watch him deal with it. It causes pain like few viruses I've had cause. I'm hungry as I haven't eaten much today, but it hurts my throat to eat so I've been avoiding it. Both Judah and Elijah woke up after an hour and a half nap. I gave Judah his pacifier and left him in bed. He fussed himself back to sleep. I came downstairs to find Elijah sitting on the rug holding a toy and staring in to the ground. I went to talk to him and his eyes were only half open. I told him he didn't have to get up just because he was awake. He stood up, walked toward the bedroom downstairs where he takes a nap all the while presenting a mild protest about how he didn't want to lay back down. I helped him on to the bed as he fussed at me, handed him his blankie and stuffed snake and left the room. He was asleep in less than a minute. I've been typing this since then. I'm sure this is completely scattered. I can say with certainty that my brain has not yet again reached full function and watching Elijah tells me it may be a couple days more until it does. Josh told me this morning that his throat was "pretty scratchy", so we'll see how he's feeling when he gets home. It's chicken and matzo soup for us tonight and early to bed with all of us.

insecurities in a half full glass

This blog is prone to wander. I have the words in my head, but new thoughts always creep in and clutter what I'm trying to say. It could get long. It could get boring. It could get tiring listening to me recount who I am over and over, but it's who I am.
I tend toward pessimism. I'm perfectly capable of coming across confident, but much of the time I'm not. I'm timid, bashful, don't make friends easily unless introduced to them through someone else, second guess almost everything I do, lack confidence to pursue many things I know God has gifted me with, and fail to really take much on full force at the fear of failing or not being the best at it.
I went for a jog this morning. It was the first time in months I've done anything even remotely close to aerobic or exercise-y. I wasn't even able to make it a mile - at sea level none-the-less. I was sure both my sides were going to split in two and that my heart was going to jump ship to run away and find someone else to pump blood for. At sea level! I cut myself down the whole way home and sat on the back porch and cried. The "wog" wasn't the issue. It wasn't the sole reason for my weapiness. I woke up feeling uncomfortably mediocre this morning. This feeling is an on-going battle I fight. I don't remember not feeling this way and having to fight against it since I was a very small child. Satan knows my weak point and he will beat it to a bloody pulp if I'm lax and not paying close attention to fighting him off - which I haven't been of late. He's merciless! Not wanting to accept that this is simply the way I am I used to blame it on my childhood full of teasing and jeering. I was teased without avail when I was in grade school and middle school. Chances are if I was able to watch a recording of all the "mean" things the other kids said to me, they'd no doubt me out of line but I dare say they were probably not as hurtful as I remember them. It's just one more example of how my insecurities got the better of me. I do believe it has played a role in my life as I don't really remember feeling insecure about anything (even the fact that I looked like a boy) until I was teased about it, but I will no longer blame my problem with this battle on those girls (and I can name them all) or even the little boys(I can name them too) that teased me all those years. It's time to accept this as being MY biggest fault. This is who I am, but not who I HAVE to be.
There's much that I'm interested in and have been from a very young age. I've always found respite in writing my thoughts out in words and having those words being seen by others. It's never done to elicit any sort of response (unless otherwise noted), but I find comfort in other people knowing how I feel. Some people cloister away or mask or hide - I'm out in the open. Sometimes too much. Writing is one of my passions that I will no longer set aside. The vast number of "Facebook" friends I have will attest to this truth and this whole "blog" thing is another way that I'm able to be brutally honest about my humanness and the fact that I am indeed very mediocre (and I should be just find with that).
I have been fascinated, again from a very young age, with the idea and action of capturing a single moment in life in a snapshot and then being able to forever view that snapshot. There's that corny saying that talks about not looking behind, but ahead. This is something that I need some serious help on. I'm a sucker for pictures, memories, smells that conjure up past emotions and memories. I often dwell on the past. For me, often, the grass is greener in the pasture I was just grazing in. I HATE changing seasons in life and I don't do change well - I adapt alright, but I don't like to. The ironic part is that my life just seems to be getting better and better with each changing season. God never fails to take it up a step or two with every move we make (not like "every move you make, every step you take" - but every physical change of location in the U.S. - that kind of move). Even so, I find myself desperately searching for reminders of times that seemed easier. This last big section after the part where I mentioned I love taking pictures was one of those big rabbit trails I was talking about. They get out of control sometimes. The fact that I look in to the past too much has NOTHING to do with taking pictures. HA! Onward and Forward.
I LOVE taking pictures. My husband blessed me a year and a half ago by purchasing a digital SLR for me. It's an older model (we'd have to sell a kidney or worse yet, a testicle perhaps to afford the best SLR though I would love one so) and works just fine for what I do. SIDE NOTE (I will say for those of you looking in to getting an older SLR - I have a Canon 20D. I've been very happy with it but I just found out recently that it has an automatic cropping mechanism on it. No matter how wide angle of a lens you put on it, it will always crop the....wideness of it down to...I don't know the technical terms, not so wide. In other words, you can never get those sweet wide angle shots you see everyone getting. Go with the 40D. It's pretty much the same camera, but doesn't have the cropping and is only slightly more expensive used.) END OF SIDE NOTE). My favorite is taking pictures of children. They are the few left that are completely honest with raw emotion and it comes through full force in a photo. My 3 year old is a grand example of that. He HATES having his picture taken if it's not his idea. He gives aggravated looks that will kill and I end up with a whole load of photos of grumpy face Elijah. I don't usually tell people that I like taking pictures because I don't want them to expect that I am any good at it. I typically dumb down how much I know about photography (which isn't actually that much when I think about it) as to not come across as someone who should take good photos. I've taken some decent ones in the past couple years with the two cameras I've loved best. I've taken a few that my husband would claim are "professional" grade, but all in all I'm fairly average at taking pictures. You'll be hard pressed to find me putting up a "photography" website. Why? And here's where I get brutally honest - I feel like there's too many of them. It seems to be the craze right now and I see "photography" websites of peoples whose pictures I really wouldn't ever pay for. Is that a cut on them, NO! It's certainly NOT! If it's a love of there's then persue if full force! But I don't want to be the one with the website that people look at and think how not exciting and mediocre my pictures are. This again is my insecurities grabbing me by the hand and leading me away from being who God intended me to be. Is that a photographer, haha, I don't believe so. I would love to take flipping awesome photos that trump all other photos ever in the world some day, but I don't see that happening. But, the idea of someone looking at my pictures that I take for ME, that I take for US as a family, that I take for FUN and thinking that they just aren't that good is another battle against Satan that I fight often. Does it have to do with pictures? Nope! It has everything to do with him whispering destructive nothings in my ear, cutting me down and distracting me from the truth God is SCREAMING in my face from day to day. Why do I listen to the whispers instead of the screaming? Because I am a pessimist at heart. I focus on the negative. I dwell in the past. It's who I am, but NOT who I HAVE to be. This is my battle. Some days I am truly confident in who God created me and those days are numbering more than they used to but still too far and few between. Trust God with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper! I knit you together in your mother's womb.
Geez. I should really listen to the screaming. This God I'm striving to know (not hard enough most the time) adores who I am. Screw what other people thing. Screw even what I think. Screw it all! He created the whole flipping world and the universe and everything! He masters everything! He is the creator of ALL beauty! He created every intricate part of me! He created who he WANTS me to be. Stupid whispering. Stupid Satan, you worthless SOB! Go wallow in hell where you belong you bastard! I will NO LONGER live in my fears! I WILL NOT BE MASTERED by my insecurities! I will CLAIM who God has called me to be! This all is the way I am, but NOT who he created me to be and NOT what I am going to claim! I WILL claim the identity he has given me, which is in him!

Shenanigans in my head

At my ENT appointment last week the doc told me he was going to order an MRI, an allergy test and some weird electro cochleal something or other test. I haven't been called about scheduling any of them yet, but I'm hoping that will happen soon. It will sure we nice to get those out of the way and hopefully HOPEFULLY one of them will shed some light on what my head has been up to these past 7 1/2 months.
The boys and I went to the commissary this morning to get a load of groceries. My hearing in my left ear was especially bad this morning when I woke up. I can always tell it's bad. I have a litmus test - if I gently scratch the top part of my outer ear and can't hear the base sounds it should create the clearing of my hearing will likely cause vertigo and some degree of exhaustion (for whatever reason. I was expecting the trip to the commissary to be slightly complicated by that, and it was, as is everything when one of your 5 senses isn't behaving the way it ought. With Eglin being in Florida we find a HUGE number of our population of military folks to be retirees, usually ones that are significantly older than us and significantly older than even our parents. We're talking folks that are in their 80s and 90s. Many of the elderly crowd that I've seen frequenting the commissary have hearing aids. They ADORE the boys and come to pinch cheeks and ask about toys that Elijah is playing with and wiggle Judah's toes. A gentle old man walked up today and was talking to the boy and turned to me to ask a question. He was right there, I was just feet away grabbing a bundle of celery and my left ear was facing him - I heard NONE of his question, just the droning on of an unidentifiable voice. I felt like he should be the one saying "pardon?", but it was me, over and over again as I walked closer and got right up next to him. They are doing construction in the commissary right now. Between the jack hammers, surrounding conversations, the sounds of children laughing or crying (or both) and this little old man asking me a question I couldn't make out any one sound from another. The deep base sounds of the construction equipment resonate like a gong or base drum, drowning out an higher pitched frequencies. The trip was filled with me straining to hear what Elijah was saying or asking, listening for what people were asking or telling me and trying to keep from becoming completely overwhelmed with feeling like all the sounds in the world were trapped in my barrel of a head. Sounds anymore don't go in one ear and out the other for me. They go in my ear and roll around for a bit all collecting up in there and making a giant ugly gonging sound that drowns out everything else. This is common now, for me, but it remains outrageously irritating. I know, there's a lot more in life that could be wrong and there are hundreds of thousands of people around the world that hear a lot worse than I do and many that don't hear at all. I suppose the biggest struggle for me is the inconsistency, the not knowing what is wrong with me. I never know when it's going to hit, or what it's going to be like or how long it will last or if it will lead to vertigo, severe and not. It did today. I put the groceries in their respective places as quickly as possible after arriving home and proceeded to put lunch on for Judah. Elijah was spending a few minutes resting on the guest bed (where he takes a nap) because he was being more aggressive than I like him to be with a plastic toy and the wall in the dining room. He fussed at me when I asked him to stop beating on the wall, so I sent him to chill in the room for a bit while I made lunch. He sang to himself and rolled around on the bed for a while and was feeling much calmer after. I sat down to feed Judah his food and was hit with the familiar feeling. I knew what was coming down the pike. I placed a hand on the table and stared at a still object to be sure to keep my balance. First the white noise in my left ear disappeared. All feel silent for a few seconds and then the sensation of extreme pressure clear deep in the creases of my inner ear - we're talking really deep in there. Not where you get "swimmer's ear" or in your eustachian tubes, but REALLY deep in there where all the balance and equilibrium stuff happens. I felt like I was gently shoved side to side with a silent wind and then I heard it. If I closed my eyes and didn't know any better I would think I was standing in a metro station - the underground kind. The rush of wind that comes out the tunnel before the train comes squealing in at lightning speed and screeches to a halt. The problem is that this train needs several hours to come to complete halt. The grating screaming of the breaks can last up to 12 hours at times. After, I'm left with hearing everything through a tin can - the noises and voices I hear for the several hours after sound artificial and annoying. Just the simple every day noises like Elijah asking me a question with a tinge of whininess or Judah fussing can send me over the edge. I find days like this one especially challenging when it comes to keeping my temper cool with the kids and being patient for the storm to pass. No one knows whats wrong with me. The ENT doesn't think it's Meniere's disease (a disease of the inner ear that causes these symptoms), but the ringing is throwing him off, We thought for a while it was just an inner ear infection (Labrynthitis) but it's not behaving that way anymore either. I'm blessed to have seemingly been freed from the debilitating vertigo and nausea it used to cause. I'm not sure how I would manage. The boys are down for a nap now and it's a good thing. My head is starting to feel like it weighs 100 pounds and the whole room is starting to spin along with the ceiling fans above me. I better find a place to lay low for a while. I just don't get it.

I've been sitting tapping my fingernail on the counter the last couple minutes trying to decide exactly what to write. It's been a few weeks and I'm not sure how to cram everything in to one entry. And, I'm tired. The boys are down for their naps and the house in nice and quiet, other than Pandora playing on my computer and the ingracious squeak of the dryer in the background. I'm still not sure what all to write even as I write. I'm feeling snacky, but there's nothing snack worthy in this house.
I took the kids to the park down the way here to hang out with my new wonderful friend, Joia, and her kids. Elijah and Keenan, Joia's son, get along.....sort of. They are quite the dynamic duo together. Joshua often reassures me that 3 year old boys bickering and punching and pushing and shoving and shouting and hitting and stealing and screaming is a perfectly normal and even necessary thing in a friendship that young.... They are a hoot to watch. Joia and I often discuss how sometimes we feel the same way as they in certain situations, we just deal with our frustrations very differently. Thats where our job as mother's comes in. We pull them away from each other often, but when they are having fun, they really have fun. Watching them when they get at each other reminds me of the book "Lord of the Flies". They seem to have no reasonable control over their emotions or their actions when they get frustrated with the other doing something they don't like. I don't want to imagine what their behavior would evolve in to if we didn't intervene for them. Every now and then I will see one of them ball up their fist and wind up for a punch and then double think it and cancel the plan. That is a highly rewarding moment as a mother - to watch your child choose the right thing. All that hard work is worth it when your child CHOOSES for them self to NOT punch their best friend in the eye! Joia and I, I have found, are like minded any many ways, and parenting is one of those ways. Keenan and Elijah, I have found, are much a like in MANY ways. They are sensitive, loving toward their siblings, territorial, strong headed, and are both ultimately ALL boy! Moriah is Joia's 18 month old beautiful daughter. She adores Judah and Judah stares at her like she's the last blond toddler on earth. We are both excited to see how their friendship grows as they grow in to realizing they have a friendship. Judah squeezes Moriah's hand harder than I'm sure she likes if she holds his hand, and Moriah poked Judah in the eye a few nights ago when we had the Dooley's over to eat. Today at the beach they sat in Adirondack chairs side by side and watched the water lapping up on the shore as their pacifiers drooped in their mouths with the occasional sucking every now and then just for reassurance. We tried in vein to get both to smile without their pacifiers and look at Joia's camera at the same time. I'm not sure we succeeded. I haul my camera around most the time and don't use it and when I don't take it the perfect picture opportunity inevitably arises.
These past couple weeks have been filled with shopping trips taking care of the last little odds and ends that have to be purchased when trying to fit in to a new house with different rooms, different storage and different....everything. I just finished a face-lift on the kitchen and it feels so much better in their! The longer we live in this house the more I love it! We've been having a blast in our backyard in the evenings! I found a blow up pool at Walmart a few weeks back and Elijah spends MUCH of his time out back bouncing around in it. He's content in their by himself for sometimes more than an hour at a time. I've found that moving in to a new house and having this canvas to paint and decorate has been such a breath of fresh air. I just have to remember how it feels and keep project ideas for myself to do when the house is all put together and I run out of constructive, creative things to occupy my time.
Joshua came home from his first day of residency yesterday and nothing really felt different. He got home at 4:30, we sat down to dinner at hour later and went for a walk around a park close by while Elijah rode his bike in front of us. It's hard to believe he's a real live doctor now seeing his own patients - no more being a student. He's going to be a wonderful doctor.
It's been cooler here the past week or so and what a blessing that has been. It was scorching when we first got here in the middle of May and the thought of the rest of the summer continually getting hotter was a bleak view. It's been rainy, overcast and in the 80's for about a week and a half and I love it! There's been just enough sunshine to play in the water now and then if we feel like it and take walks down by the shore in the evening, but the rain is a welcome respite from the sweltering heat. I'm afraid this is a terribly boring blog. I'll be done with it now and go do some dishes.

Apology for upset feelings

To those of you who were offended by my post about my frustrations with Elijah, I am truly sorry. I was indeed not intending to seem "cutting" to my child. I was not belittling him, cutting him, gossiping about him or complaining that he's my child. The reason I write the things I do, about Elijah or not, is because those are things that are my life right now. That being said: I've been asked if I would say those things about Elijah to his face if he could understand them. I absolutely would! He needs to know the issues I have with his behavior.
Would I post the same thing on my blog if he were a teenager and could read the things I wrote?...Probably not, and that is where I need to do some serious thinking and praying about where the line is drawn. I am NOT NOT NOT intending to take for granted the "humanness" of my son or to splay him out for the public, I simply am at a loss. Should I be more careful in the way that I present that? Probably, and I encourage those of you that find my posts offensive or hurtful that I will, indeed, be working on how much I say and how I present what I say. I have no intention of "airing dirty laundry" for the world to see and I need to find where that line is.

wild saviar

With each passing day raising Elijah I feel I understand less and less about his destructive, loud, aggressive and violent nature. Not understanding why he is the way he is, out side of being a typical boy, means that I haven't any ideas of how to teach and train him to control this nature he was given. I was naive to think the only obnoxious time in a boy's life is the after the age of 10 and in to the early teen years.
I know I was an obnoxious child sometimes, all children are. Even the ones that aren't obnoxious are obnoxious at some point in time. I wasn't a girly girl. My mom tried with everything she was to teach me to be a lady and it didn't pay off for her until well after I started my teen years and really not fully until the past 5 or so years. I was crude right along with all the little boys and constantly a mess from digging in the dirt and building forts in our back field. But, I don't believe I was ever violent or destructive to the point of destroying things just to destroy. He yells, he screams, he hits, he hollers, he rips, he breaks, he pounds on EVERYTHING, he slams, he stomps, he punches, he headbutts and does many many other things that up to this point in my life have come to be one of the most aggravating and exhausting experiences I've had. If I ask or tell him to be calm and not scream or yell, he quivers with rage and makes this weird guttural noise out of sheer frustration with me. I know that boys will be boys. I know that I am not called to break his will, but mold it. I know that a harsh word stirs up anger and gentle words stir up quite the opposite. I know that me raising my voice when I tell him to NOT yell is completely confusing to him! I know that him seeing the temper I have and sometimes do not control very well is completely confusing him. Yes, I understand a lot more than this, too. I DO NOT understand how I am supposed to be able to raise this crazy saviar of a child to be a constructive, gentle, kind, loving, God fearing man. There are days I feel it will take a miracle for Elijah to not end up growing in to an overly aggressive, destructive human being.
All that being said, he's a fairly good child when compared to the masses. I know that seems to be quite the opposite of the very words I just typed, but he is. His fit throwing in public is minimal (though lately has been more than usual). He obeys...most of the time. He is gentle and loving to his younger brother, Judah, most of the time. He rarely lashes out to hurt someone - it's mostly inanimate objects to which he is destructive. That being said and as fun as he can be sometimes, it's hard for me to want to spend time with him and grow our relationship and mom and son or our relationship as friends. In fact, at this point I dare say we really don't have a relationship as friends. I hurts me to say that I usually prefer to not be around him. Breaks are few and far between and they are complete in their refreshment but it takes only a matter of hours for me to be seeking out another solace from his craziness. Every mother I've spoken with that was blessed with a little boy has sung the same song. The say that once their boys reach the age of 4 or around the age of 4, then the friendship can start. The hardest part seems to be over. The bratiness seems to fade and the temper and volatility that controlled their son's behavior before takes a back burner in his every day life. Oh the day! I pray for that day to come quickly, though I know you are NOT to wish your child's years away. I may also be naive in hoping or thinking that Judah will not follow the same footsteps, but rather be much more calm and compliant as a 2-3 year old. I hope that it helps that when he reaches these treacherous years, Elijah will be well past them (by the grace of God and my obedience in his calling to be a loving mother!). Judah has always watched his brother more than either me or Josh and I imagine that will continue. We constantly tell Elijah of how he is to be an example to his brother, but he says, "yeah" with that tone that screams "I have NO idea what you are saying."
One day these days of this phase of Elijah's life will be a distant memory, a vivid one at that, but a distant one. I love my son dearly, but there are many times these current days and weeks that he makes it REALLY hard for me to enjoy him at all.

lack of sleep, hormones, heaps of change - or maybe all of it together

I've been unreasonably irritable lately and I'm starting to get really tired of it. I'm getting tired of myself and this attitude I can't seem to kick. It could be a combination of a lot of things. I stopped taking my birth control a few weeks ago with the hopes that maybe, just MAYBE I was allergic to it and it's what was causing my ear issues...The answer to that question is clear. I feel like I'm hormonally imbalanced, over tired, ridiculously homesick, and just all around unsettled. It's an adjustment to have Josh gone all the time again after having over 6 weeks of him around all the time. That being said, I tend to get a LOT more done when he's NOT around all the time, but I prefer more time with him than we are getting. Our time alone together consists of unpacking or cleaning. We aren't getting much quantity time and it seems very little of it is turning in to quality time. The hardest part of that is that there's really no end in sight. Orientation is the easy part. There's all sorts of activities around here to occupy my and the kids time, but unpacking is the sole priority right now if only to get settled in a feel....settled. If we don't feel settled the crazy days will simply not subside. Unpacking with two kiddos is a serious challenge. No wonder I get into such a groove at night after they are in bed. I don't want to stop - I could unpack all through the night and be happy as a clam. I cranked up the techno in our bedroom last night and unpacked every box in there all in a couple hours. It's all fine and dandy until Judah chirps for the first time at 6am. Then I'm sorry - and it happens all over again the next day. Josh unpacks and cleans here and there but has been assigned study material and spends much of his time in the evenings occupied with that. The sooner I can get this silly house done, the sooner we can sit and relax and be together in the evening with little else to do. In the meantime I've taken to drinking caffeinated tea in the morning and catching a quick nap in the afternoon before dragging myself through another box of belongings and packing paper.
Settling in to a new house is an adventure for sure, but I just prefer it to go more quickly that it is. It gets aggravating trying to find new places to put things that perfectly in our old place and seem to have no place here. The bathrooms here have NO storage space and we have boxes upon boxes of medicines, cleaning supplies and other bathroom related sundries that were happily nested in the endless cabinet space in our place in Colorado. My outlet at home is decorating and painting and making our home beautiful and comforting. I simply have no time for making this home ours. It's just a space that we are occupying at this point. I'm not complaining - I do love the house, it's just not OURS yet. I've got creative energy bursting at the seams and no time to do anything with it.
I'm sure it doesn't help that I haven't sat and had a quiet time since we moved in to this place. I always make the excuse that it's because my Bible is buried in one of the storage areas under the boys seats in the van, but I know better than that. I just haven't made time for it, and there's no excuse. It should come as no surprise to me that I'm such a raging grump. I've had little contact with the very being that I get my energy and will power from.
My patience with Elijah wears more and more thin every day as he increasingly becomes more and more precocious and rebellious. He's really coming in to his own and as is typical with most kids his age, he has NO idea how to control/manage/handle it. He seems to waver a lot day to day. Some days I am surprised at how much I enjoy him and then the next it seems I don't know where he came from or who's been raising him these past 3 years. He's either a complete show-off or a complete emotional mess in public and it's RARELY anything close to a happy medium. He show-off tendencies get him in trouble, like when he threw the cantaloupe I can sitting next to him in the cart. Or when he's wildly flying his helicopter toy around as a show for a stranger and catches Judah, who is strapped to the front of me, right in the eyes with it. He's deliberately disobeying and being deceitful more and more and it's getting exhausting. I figured this would all slow down as he approached being 3, but it seems to be reaching it's peak - or at least I HOPE beyond all hope that it's reaching it's peak, or HAS peaked for that matter! I keep telling Josh that I want to adopt a girl next because I feel doomed to producing ONLY boys and Judah is showing little promise of being less spirited than Elijah. He is as dramatic as the days are hot! I'm not sure how I would manage 3 boys if I can hardly manage 2.
It seems we are just managing and surviving from day to day with little break and I really do detest that feeling. Even when we do venture out of the house in search for a break from the monotony, Elijah manages to spoil it in some way or another while Judah is fussy fussy fussy because he typically doesn't sleep well, except at night. I am not without fault in our outings not ending well as I seem to find it hard to keep my cool and laugh at things instead of winding myself into a tight little wad of short tempered anger and frustration.
The moving process always ends at some point. It has to. We are here for 3 full years, so I have plenty of time to settle. We'll get there. It's going to be a long summer of really HOT HUMID days and finding more and more tar balls and sheen float ashore onto our beloved beaches that are much of the outlet we have found. Am I a pessimist? At heart, yes! I find it really hard to pull my head up above the table top and look at something other than the half empty glass sitting before me. This has been a battle for me since I was a very small child. I tend to fret, worry and stew about nearly everything. God is growing me and I will get to a point, one day, where I am positive in all situations. Right now, I work hard at just being positive hour to hour.

12 hours and an overwhelming array of emotions

Elijah is eating his Kashi crunch, singing about it in humming as he always does when he's eating and has always done since he started eating solid food. It gets annoying to me, but it's very Elijah. It's a trademark Elijah thing to do, therefore I love it in a strange way because I love him, because he is my son. I'm grateful that God instilled in us a seeming impossibility to NOT love our children with everything we are. If he hadn't, Elijah may be in trouble, as would the rest of us at some point in our past or present lives. Judah is sitting glassy eyed in his Bumbo watching his brother do anything he can think to make him laugh. It doesn't take much and it's precious in it's simplicity. These two boys adore each other. Judah stares into the distance for a few moments until Elijah finds something to catch his attention upon which he chimes in with his adorable mumblings and chuckling while twirling his hands and feet round and round like babies do when they get excited. I love this scene! I'm very content in this moment. I have Brett Dennen Pandora radio playing online and Elijah is using the music to his advantage in making Judah laugh. But, Judah is quickly losing interest as his morning nap time creeps nearer and nearer and Elijah is sipping the milk out of his cereal bowl like his daddy taught him to do. I'm surprised at how good he is at sipping the milk without spilling. Elijah is going down for a morning nap today too, for the first time since he was 20 months old. I already told him so and he's fine with it. He would go down whether he were fine with it or not, but it's times like these when I tell him things that would solicit a fit in most 3 year old children that I love the way we've raised him, to be compliant and obedient... The previous typed statement proves that I am indeed a true mother, one with constantly fluctuating emotions, frustrations, understandings, confusion, insecurities and areas of assurance. When compared with the first hour of my morning me saying that I am pleased with the way we've raised Elijah just doesn't seem to match up. Judah woke up LOUD at ten till 6:00 this morning and woke up Elijah in the process. Elijah finds it impossible to roll over and go back to sleep if he wakes up anytime past about 5:00am. Both boys have been awake since then after not going to bed until almost 8:00 last night. This may sound like a dream come true for many parents, that their children would sleep this long, but both our boys are capable of and function MUCH better on 12 hours of sleep a night. Elijah had two dramatic emotional meltdowns in less than an hour this morning. One came with my simple request that he pick up the heap of crayons he dumped all over the living room rug. You'd think I'd asked him to shoot his childhood pet with the reaction the request solicited. After a half hour of him thrashing and wailing I helped him put the remaining 3 crayons in the bag that just WOULD NOT fit when he was trying by himself and told him after zipping the bag that he would taking a nap this morning when Judah took his nap. I told him he was tired and fussy and needed a nap and he looked at me very plainly and replied, "yeah." I'm at a loss as to why telling him he was going to take a nap (which he doesn't like) is answered with such a compliant response after a simple request of picking up crayons was the crisis of the morning. The mind of a 3 year old will remain a mystery to me and at times turn into a frustration that makes it tempting for me to turn my mommy badge in. What a different emotion I was experiencing last night.
I was picking through the piles of folders, binders, pictures, books and junk in the office area of our new house desperate for some semblance of organization. I came across several pictures of Elijah at 13 and 14 months old and held them up for Josh to see from the kitchen where he was working on the dishes. He came over, looked on for a moment while I told him I couldn't believe that Judah was a mere 6 months away from that same age. He sighed heavily and walked back to the kitchen. I stared for a few more moments, all sounds fading in the distance as the sound of our little 14 month old boy's laughter rang in my ears. Memories of his first year and a half of his life flooded my memory and I swallowed hard. Has it really been almost 3 years now since I brought his tiny little body home from the hospital in Kirksville, MO? Oh the adventures a new baby brings to a mom and dad. We had no idea the joy, excitement, frustration, laughter and exhaustion a child would bring to our lives. My trip down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of Josh blowing his nose. I leaned back and peeked in to see him stationed over the box of Kleenex on the counter wiping under his eyes and nose. A child will do that to a man who doesn't cry. I sat in my office chair, my stomach upsetting as I thought about how fast the past 3 years have gone. My natural instinct kicked in and I was overcome with an overwhelming desire to have another baby despite the fact that Judah is a mere 7 1/2 months old. I'm apprehensive about getting pregnant again, ever, with all the health problems I've been having as I've been told pregnancy makes them worse. Last night, that came to mind, but I just didn't care in that moment. The stage that Judah is in is one of life's precious gifts. He delights at the sight of his brother and his daddy and I can see the overwhelming joy that comes over him when he sees me. There is little that compares to the feeling this gives me. It's times like this morning, though, that snap me back hard in to reality and help me see that another pregnancy right now and another baby in 9 months would not be a wise idea. I'm more high strung right now than I have ever been in my life trying to manage two VERY different ages of children, unpacking a new house and fitting in to a new area of life and geography. I wanted to ring Elijah's neck this morning and it was because Judah woke up so early and woke Elijah up. I'm kidding myself if I think that having another baby right now would be feasible. My prayer is constant, for God to calm my temper and teach me to be patient with my children as he is patient with me. He is teaching me patience and I do not enjoy it, but it must be learned. I often daydream of the simplicity my life would have if not for my children, but as the cliche goes, I can NOT imagine my life without them, for they are the life God has given me and he has blessed me with the life he sees fit. I'm glad he knows me better than I do.

A huge update after not having internet for over a week:

May 11th:
We drove away from Denver and I cried so hard it hurt. My miss my Colorado family so intensely but know that the pain will ease with time.

May 15th:
Joshua graduated from Medical school. He became a D.O. and a Captain in the Air Force all in one day. It's still hard to believe I'm married to a real live doctor! I LOVE it!

May 18th:
We arrived to a VERY hot and humid Florida, checked in to our TLF (temporary lodging facility) at 2:00pm and were at a loss of what to do. We called up the only people on base we really knew and asked if we could come over. Wendi, you are such a blessing and have been so servant hearted through this whole process. (Thank you, Wendi, Brittny and Joia for all your help these past few weeks. I don't know how to repay you!) We went to Wendi's house, put the boys down for naps and scarfed down some VERY late lunch. I got to meet two other awesome ladies this day (Brittny and Tiffany) and we joined Brittny and her family for dinner that night. It was apparent then that Brittny and I will get along VERY well. :)

May 19th:
Josh went to the housing office with a couple numbers of houses we wanted to look at and we were told there were NO available houses in the area we wanted........and NO time line of when a house would be available. They gave us keys to look at a place that was ready - it sat high atop a small hill, in direct sunlight, with no trees, shrubs or sign of plant life anywhere around. We said no thanks and returned to the TLF a little disheartened, but sure that we'd be in the "perfect" place by the end of the week.

May 20th through June 2nd:
Wait. Frustration! Swimming. My ear REALLY acting erratically! More waiting! Phone calls. Questions. Crying, a lot of crying on my part! Naughty cooped up 3 year old boy with feeling of lacking all sense of security and constancy. Trips to the beach in Fort Walton Beach and Destin. Waiting more. REALLY wierd ear issues, cluing us in that it probably isn't Meniere's OR labrythitis. Making an appointment to get referral to an ENT MEETING JOIA! Feeling like MAYBE looking for a house off base would NOT be the end of the world. Look for housing off base. Find NEAT-O house, but still not wanting to live of base! Having to give landlord an answer. Saying "yes" to a house off base only to find out we can't get our stuff until the 8th. More crying on my part. More frustration! More waiting, swimming, and boring days in the TLF. Appointment to get referral to ENT.

June 8th:
The movers show up at 9:00 am with 7 HUGE crates of our "junk"! I was slightly embarrassed that it took a semi with 7 crates to carry our belongings and how long it took the movers to unpack it. Wendi, Joia and Brittny came to the rescue again! Elijah spent the day with Joia, Keenan (Elijah's age) and little Moriah while Wendi came here for the morning to help me while the movers where here. She was INCREDIBLY helpful and saved me from a serious amount of stress and nerves. Brittny watched her kids and then they swapped at lunch so Brittny could come here and help me unpack some boxes. All in all, the day went pretty well. The movers got our dresser up the stairs without breaking it, or themselves and there was minimal damage to a few of our other belongings. Joia returned a VERY happy and VERY sleepy Elijah to us at 8:30 that night and he went straight to bed but not without telling us stories of the days adventures as he fought to keep his eyes open.

From then up to now:
Unpacking. Unpacking. Unpacking. All sorts of weird ear issues. A MUCH happier 3 year old boy and baby boy. Still waiting to get appointment with ENT to get MRI to rule out a tumor or MS....yikes!
I've been LOVING tooling around in our HUGE backyard when I get the chance in the evenings. I've done a fair amount of pruning of the overgrowth that the past tenants have neglected to care for. The house is coming together much more slowly that I would prefer but I'm not a bit surprised at how long it's taking with two kiddos to keep track of. It seems I just get a box cut open long enough to remove the top paper and see whats in it and I have to drop all and change a diaper, feed a baby, make lunch or crack down on some bad behavior.....all well, it will get there eventually. Plus, it's no big hurry because we'll be here a FULL 3 years! That's longer than Josh has lived anywhere since undergrad and for me since I was in high school. It doesn't feel like home yet, but it will get there once all the boxes are gone and I can start painting and decorating.

My ear:
I have NO idea what to think now. I've noticed a pattern with my ear problems revolving a lot around stressful situations and that doesn't really come as a surprise to me. The nice thing is that while for the past 6 months any time my ear "stuffed up" it seemed I had to have a vertigo "attack" in order to be able to hear normally again. That hasn't been the case these past several weeks. I haven't had much problem with bad vertigo (only slight vertigo here and there), but in turn I've only been able to hear normally our of my left ear for 3 days out of the past 4 weeks. I never know what to expect from one day to the next and have given up and trying to guess what is wrong with my dysfunctional inner ear and balance system. I just have to wait for my MRI and ENT appointment and pray pray pray that they don't tell me "We don't know", or "we have bad news."

So, thats that. Not a terribly exciting post, but it's up to date and now come the musings of daily life in this hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot state called Florida for a family that is used to using TONS of lotion and not having to drink a gallon of water a piece each day just to stay lucid.

Elijah's antics

My husband is my all time best friend. He truly is my distraction from everything. He's assisting at a C-Section right now and thats the only reason I'm sitting here typing this...because I'm not sure what else to do with myself and I'm not tired enough to start my night sleep. When he's around I really get nothing done, unless he's entertaining the boys and I have a few moments to frantically put laundry away or do whatever ungodly amount of dishes has accumulated or vacuum the cracker crumbs, spit-up residue and torn up stickers left on the carpet by the ninos. He is simply my best friend and if he's around, which he often is, I really prefer to be by his side as much as possible. Sappy? Yes. But I do adore him! Now, that said, since he's not here I have some time to write whatever comes to mind, and what is coming to mind right now is my son Elijah and his antics. He is such and odd child! Fun, but odd. I'm not sure what we expect to see coming from him when he has Josh and I as role models. We are lively, behave strangely often, and are quite open with the way we are feeling about anything, though we tend to handle our emotions exponentially better than Elijah does. He's been potty trained for almost 2 months now, I think, about that long....And to toot my own horn, I potty trained him in 3 days. Really it was only barely over 2 days when it was obvious that he was officially trained. Does that mean he never ever ever has accidents anymore? Indeed not. He is true to his age and attention span. When something more important than paying attention to ones bodily functions is at hand, like watching an infant geared "Baby Einstein" video with his brother Judah, gleefuly saying "pee pee" and walking to the kitchen to show me the stream of fluid dripping out the bottom of his jeans seems to be a better option than running to the bathroom. He pooped in his pants the other day in his bedroom, but I'm positive beyond a doubt that it was because I made him go back to his room because "naptime" (MY 2 hour break from both boys in which they are BOTH asleep for atleast 2 hours) was not over yet. He squinted his eyes into tiny slits at me when I told him that it was too early to be up. He had to pee so after that was taken care of I escorted him back to his room where I told him he could sit "QUIETLYYYYYY!!!!" and read books. I heard a screech and pounding come from his room just moments later. I walked in to a cloud of stench and the look of guilt on his face. He turned and showed me the buldge in his Elmo underpants. It, at this point, had been WEEKS since he's pooped his pants. I asked if he did it on purpose (as yes, he does know what on purpose means) and he said in the most honest of voices "yeah.". Other than that, we have been accident free. It's pretty great! I am so proud of myself when I see underpants sticking out of his pants instead of a diaper top.
He gets to put stickers on a piece of colored card stock taped to the fridge whenever he goes potty in the toilet, or whenever he goes potty and remembers about the stickers. Lately he seems to be more intent on destroying the sticker charts and even the stickers themselves. Ripping Buzz Lightyear's legs off is seemingly much more rewarding that simply sticking him to a colored piece of paper on the fridge. If Buzz does happen to make it onto the paper, or the train, horse, Kung Fu Panda, motor bike, dog, or cat sticker make it onto the paper it's not long before they are removed and dismembered with the musical sound of Elijah saying "Oh No!" in a very high pitch. "Oh no, oh no. Buzz ipps boom!" (Translation: Buzz has been ripped and has fallen on the floor with a boom). And then he stomps on them leaving heads and wings and tails and cabooses and handle bar pieces stuck firmly to the tile just below the fridge. The trashcan is right behind where he stands and destroys, but the sticker fragments NEVER make it into the can unless I am there to guide him to that decision.
He is ALL boy!
Now I'm tired and it's late. Good night.

Trifles of motherhood: I'm proud to say I kept my cool

There are things that wear me out more than others. There are very specific actions, facial expressions and behaviors that my 2 1/2 year old son, Elijah, has and does that bring me to the brink of instanity. He dips his toe in the water any chance he gets. I often request or tell him to do or not do a certain thing and he sees how similar of an action he can commit before pushing the line too far. And then, he gives me that face. Mothers of 2 year olds, boys and girls alike, you know to what face I refer. The one. The one that bores you right to the core of your temper and begs, BEGS...REACT! I'm ashamed to say that many times, much more than are called for, this rips my temper from it's resting place and solicits a reaction far beyond what is necessary. Just today we were sitting and eating lunch together. A sidenote to explain: He has an airplane fetish that plays out in EVERY part of his life and he loves to fly his hands around in the air while we are sitting and eating. The act of eating used to be sufficient, alone, to keep his attention, but this has changed recently. End of sidenote: Eating is secondary to creating an airplane out of anything and everything that resides on the table at any given moment. He knocks over his milk glass, smashes his food, flies half gnawed chicken nuggets onto my plate, soars his fork into my face... Flying hands or nuggets or anything has quickly become taboo. He gave me a sideways glance when he was about to commit the known, today, and quickly shot his hand up in the air like an exploding rocket and screached, " WHYYYYY DIIIIIIE!!!!" (This is what it sounds like when he's trying to say "fly sky"). Most days this is what follows: I glare and repeat my mantra " DO. NOT. FLY. YOUR. HANDS!!!!" (gritting my teeth all the while). He squints his eyes into slits and quivers his whole head and tenses his jaw. It quickly becomes a battle of the tempers. If I keep talking at him he plugs his ears. When I pull his hands down from his head he swings his face the other direction and quivers some more. My ears get hot, I clench my jaw, and clasp my fists, I do whatever else I have to do to keep from raising my voice. Today.....I triumphed!!!!!! Some days, most days, I don't. It ends with him in tears and me feeling badly about being so unbelievably easy to irritate. Triumph for me is no trifle. I've got the temper of a viking and when I let it control my emotions I end up being very ashamed of myself and my childish reaction to the situation. Most days I raise my voice and repeat myself over and over, like thats going to get the point across. Maybe if I say it 5, 10, 15 times right in his face, then he'll stop. Maybe if I grab his hands and squeeze tight he'll see that I'm truly serious. Maybe if I demonstrate why flying our hands isn't ok by flying my hands and knocking things on the floor it will SHOW him why it's not ok. It doesn't, I just get to clean up my own mess. Maybe, if I act like a grumpy, volitile toddler too, and lose my temper about silly things then he will see the light and choose to obey...... My ridiculousness has quickly caught up with me and I'm embarressed about my behavior at tiems. "Every day in every way I'm getting better and better." I'm rather tightly wound when it comes to being a mom to Elijah, but I'm starting to see that me being that way doesn't give me the upper hand, it just makes me look like a HUGE out of control toddler. The only upper hand I have is that I'm 5 foot 7inches instead of 3 feet tall (which isn't really an upper hand at all). Infact, it makes me look like a giant dupe. This is why I'm cutting back. I'm unwinding. I'm counting to 10. I'm doing the work. I'm controlling my volitile temper. I'm growing and learning and in turn, I have a much happier, much more responsive toddler. Just because he throws a fit, doesn't mean I have to.