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Ode to the Tension

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Several of you astutely identified the underlying issue with my need for “Free Dress Friday”. Some of you even commented “at least they are matching” or “they actually don’t look too bad” in their ALL RED, or ALL PINK or ALL BLUE. And I’ll admit- most of their outfits really aren’t the end of the world. They just happen to be a far cry the shirts with collars or plaid shorts or you know, spreading out the red a little- that I usually choose for them. 

I couldn’t pull a fast one on ya’ll…. now you are driving me to the point of confession. Because it’s true. What may seem easy, or even helpful for some- kids picking out their own clothes- is often difficult for me. In this post, I’ll come clean about the real “problem”. But  before I get to that, don’t forget to stop by my recent post about how you can support the TL 5th annual 5K– helping real people and real problems. Problems just slightly more significant than whether my children’s clothes match. Seriously. 

Ode to the tension

Welp. It’s true. I have a problem folks.
Some serious tension.
On one hand- I’m an accountant.
On the other- I have four small children.

I like control, order, structure, routine, schedules and spreadsheets.
They prefer to trample all of those keys-to-great-life-success.

Craft Cabinet my way
Craft Cabinet their way

Around about kiddo number 3 I learned that I’d have to make a choice- perfection or parenting.  While I realize now that “perfection” was never really an option, I certainly did hold on to the notion for quite some time.  I honestly couldn’t tell you when I became a bit more of the mom-of-four-small-children and a little less of the rule-following-perfectionist.  I know both are still there, both are an important part of who I am, but at some point I’d like to think I struck the balance.  A couple of weeks ago, I was at Leadership Training for work.  When the training facilitator found out that I work and have four children at home, she paid me the biggest compliment I could imagine- “Wow, you seem really laid back to have four children”.  She didn’t mean much by it, probably didn’t even give it a second thought.  She only knew me for a couple of days and never saw me interact with my children.  But it still meant so much.  If she only knew all that I’d had to release over the years.  If she knew the prayers I’d prayed.  If she knew the struggles I still have to strike a balance.  Then she would have known how deeply I appreciated those words.

Because it’s true-

I would prefer:
To never leave the house without everything in its place
To have all the books in the playroom sorted by genre, size and alphabetically by author’s last name.
To have all four children not only dressed neatly, but preferably in coordinating outfits every.single.day
And I’d love to have the house seasonally decorated by a professional around key holidays.

Don’t miss the missile coming
at the pumpkin’s head
Love this three eyed pumpkin face

But I have four small children.
And they ensure:
I am much more excited about leaving the house with them- even if we leave behind a disaster.
I want to read with them more than I care about where the books live
I (occasionally) let go of what they wear and enjoy their self-expressions when they dress themselves
And I’m perfectly thrilled the my fall decorations (pictured in this post)
= create-your-own pumpkins on the front porch AND the back door fall gallery.

At least when they stick stickers they do it in a pattern
whats better than a pic of you & your bro
taped onto the back door?
one folded into a paper airplane, of course.

As I think about the hours (and hours and hours and hours) that the kids, especially Lou, have put in to decorating that back door.
As I think about the deep breaths I took when she first started taping “art” up.
As I help clean up the mess that trails behind as they cut, glue, fold, tear, color and CREATE.
And as I have forever captured in my mind’s eye the joy and excitement on their faces as someone new notices and compliments their work.
I realize.
Ya know what?
They bring out the best parts of me.
I’m so very thankful that this accountant
gets to be their mom.

Life would certainly be boring if I was just me, without them.
I’ll take the tension any day.

ABL

Choosing the Battles- Clothing edition

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This post is going to be SO MUCH FUN!  But before you read it, don’t forget to take a minute to check out the previous post about helping teenagers in our community.  Please consider giving THIS WEEK to make a real difference!  Countdown=6 days to 5K!!

Now- on to the adorable blonds:

I mentioned that I was cutting down on a few battles at our house by beginning “Wrestling Privileges“.  What a great day that was at our house!

But there’s another “battle” looming.
Clothing.

Kids have opinions about what they wear.
I get that.
But, I have opinions, too.
I put time, effort, energy into purchasing, washing, folding, hanging, ironing (ok, only sometimes) their clothing.  Because its true, I care how they look.  It honestly isn’t about brand names or expensive clothing.  I just feel like there is something about a person’s self-confidence and the impressions that they leave with others when they are neat and tidy.  I want it to be a habit they begin early- not that I’m placing value in their appearance alone, but there is some value to be placed in the impression they make on other people.

That said-
the very last way I want to start the day is arguing with them about what they are wearing.

For years, I cut down on that battle- in all humility I pretty much eliminated it- by a simple compromise.  Our compromise was this: I pick the clothes.  You pick the shoes.

Sometimes that meant rain boots with shorts

or dress clothes.

Sometimes that meant shoes that didn’t match at all.

For most of the last year it meant the same multi-colored-polka-dot flats with EVERYTHING for Lou.

And then one day, that all changed.
Round about the first week of school this year, the big two boys (who I’m pretty sure conspire against me each night as they fall asleep together) declared, “WE WANT MORE! More choices, more opportunities for expression, more FREEEEEEEEDOMMMMMM!”
Well, really they just said “When are we going to get to pick out our own clothes for school”.
Same thing.

So, in a brilliant parenting move that can only be described as “THANK YOU LORD!”
words came out of my mouth that simultaneously bought me a little longer of picking out their clothes and them the opportunity for self-expression.
FREE DRESS FRIDAY

Now, we all know- compromise always comes with a price.
Just like the missing tooth and black eye from “wrestling privileges“, Free Dress Fridays have a downside, too.

Like this

“My col-uhs ah blush and bashful” –
Steel Magnolias, anyone?

OR This

where a little red is good, a lotta red is AWEOME
and why not tuck in?

And this

I match.  Thumbs up.

The deal is- They don’t complain, not a word, about the clothes I lay out for them 5 days out of the week (sun-thurs) and Friday they get to wear absolutely whatever they want.  And I don’t say a word.  Even when it was 123 degrees outside and KJ wanted to wear two shirts, I might have mentioned he’d get hot- but he glared the look that say “don’t trample the rules of Free Dress Friday” and I let him go to school that way.

KJ’s double shirt look and Lou’s blue Cinderella socks.

I’ll tell ya this- Fridays sure are simple.  I don’t have to get anyone’s clothes (except Tito’s of course).  The others make their own choices pretty quickly (usually the night before).  KJ’s choice  is simple.  Favorite.Red.Shirt.Always.  The other two are a toss up.  Lou usually wears a dress and Cbug wears whatever he touches in the closet first.  And I’m pretty sure there isn’t a single doubt in any of their teachers’ minds whether I dressed my children on Fridays.

So- here’s to you and your battles on the home front.
Find a “free dress Friday” or maybe a “wrestling privilege” compromise and embrace it!
You can thank me later.
Unless its picture day!

ABL

What’s their story? – Advocating for the "trouble" kids

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When we went to KJ’s patriotic performance in the spring, we could not have been prouder of our adorable child.  Granted it was a mere 20 minutes of singing songs, saying the pledge, and each taking a turn at the mic to tell about all things “American”.  Granted, for most of the performance, unless you strained your neck (and camera) just right (which I assure you we did), you couldn’t even SEE our tiny guy.  But he is ours.  And we think he’s tops.
Later that same month, he raked in the awards to prove it.  I’d like to call them “family awards” because we ALL put in some serious efforts to those after-school-reading and math programs just to earn points just to get a stinkin’ trophy, thankyouverymuch.  In the ceremony every kid in every kindergarten class got to prance across the stage, have their name called, and swell with pride at their list of accomplishments- accomplishments of the kind only a kindergartner would consider success.  But they certainly do.  KJ did.  AND we did, too.

But shortly after KJ walked across the stage that day another little 5 or 6-year-old girl walked across the stage and had her “success” defined quite differently.  She simply got “Principals Club”, the award every kid gets.  Not “cheetah math gold, silver or bronze”.  No “Reading Olympics” medal.   No “mastery of study skills.”  Not even “good conduct”.  She kind of shuffled across the stage, hugged the teacher, and paused (like all the kids were supposed to) for her picture.  Only no one was there to take it.  And I lost it.
There was a kiddo or two like her in every class that day.  Ones who obviously weren’t “dressed” for awards day, who didn’t have a cluster of family members welcoming them afterward, who didn’t struggle to juggle all of their prizes in their proud little hands.  And my heart broke.  Not because it should be fair.  Not because all kids should “get the same thing”.  Not because I thought anyone should get an award they didn’t earn.  Nope, I fought back tears because I wondered if anyone knew their story.  Did anyone ask, “why?”
I could relate.  I deeply love a little boy who had anything but “mastery conduct” during his first “big school” year last year.  A little boy who didn’t have family members present at any of his special pre-k events at school.  A little boy who sometimes wears clothes that don’t fit.  A little boy who sometimes gets labeled for his behavior before anyone takes time to know his story, a rough one.  And that day, I could so easily picture a sweet red-head shuffling across the stage.  I could hear the imaginary voices of other parents saying “That kid couldn’t even get it together enough for a conduct certificate”.  I could sense his disappointment when he paused for pictures and realized the faces he wanted to see most weren’t there.  Again.  
That day, like so many others since then, I prayed that someone would take time to know his story.  I prayed that the little girl in KJ’s class, the others like her that day, and the one I love so much, would all find an advocate in school.  A teacher who sees their hidden talents and skills, who knows their obstacles and sets them up to believe they can overcome them.  I prayed for other parents, too.  Ones who let their kids be friends with the less-than-perfect playmate, who speaks blessing into someone else’s child right along side their own.  I prayed for advocates.  And I prayed for the strength to be one.  
I’m pretty sure I could get as many different political opinions as I have readers, if I tried.  But I’m fairly certain we will all agree on this:
Each of us is responsible.
Not just in our current political state, not just in our current economic state, not only if we have kids, not only if we work in a profession that provides opportunities-  We all can make a difference.  This isn’t some over-idealistic-push toward changing the world.  I’m “just” talking about changing lives, just those lives we each come in contact with.  You can vote and write letters to your senator (maybe you should) and you can eloquently explain your political opinions until you are blue in the face (maybe you shouldn’t).  But unless YOU (and I) are willing to actually do something I can guarantee that the kid next door won’t ever have his story heard.  He’s not waiting for his district’s Senator to stop by.  He’s waiting for you.
You probably already know who “he” is, don’t you?
The kid who kinda smells bad so no one ever wants to sit next to him.
The kid who gets asked to leave youth group events because of the inappropriate things she says.
The kid who no teacher wants to have in class because teachers don’t know how to “control him”.
The kid who has spent more time at the alternative school than the regular classroom.  Since 6th grade.
The kid who bullies other kids on the internet.
The kid who is pregnant at 14.
The kid who drops out.
The kid who gave up.
Have you ever really asked “Why?”  Have you heard “his” story?  Did you notice that no one cheered for them in the program or took their picture on awards day?  I know I don’t always notice.  Too often, I don’t stop to actually ask.  
But here’s the thing:
 I know about this incredible organization that makes knowing teenagers- really KNOWING them- their mission.  They are out to find “those” kids.  The ones at the alternative school.  The ones drowning in their bad choices.  The ones pregnant.  The ones labeled for their behaviors.  The ones who need to have their stories heard.  
Teen Lifeline KNOWS the power of listening to teenagers, of helping them listen to each other, of providing them a safe place to learn life skills.  The unique thing is, this organization doesn’t run away from “troubled” kids, they run toward them.  They have this lofty notion that maybe if they can provide hope, if they can provide an opportunity to overcome obstacles, if they actually DO SOMETHING, they might just maybe make a real difference.  One life at a time.  
And you know what?  It works!
It is time for Teen Lifeline’s annual 5K, one of their only huge fundraisers each year to support the work they do.  Its the 5th year for this fundraiser and I can honestly tell you I’ve never been more excited about the difference I truly believe the dollars collected this year will make.  
My very own, RRL, is the executive director of Teen Lifeline.  He knows about coming from a broken home, having to fight to overcome obstacles, and he certainly appreciates the advocates he had along the way who heard his story.   As a result he didn’t become his obstacles, he overcame his obstacles.  He stood on top of his obstacles and took a flying leap forward.  Those advocates gave him a springboard to take his story and use it to open doors for others to be heard. 
RRL is teamed up with an incredible Program Director and a super supportive Board of Directors.  You won’t find a group of people with bigger hearts or who are more inclined to work together to help teenagers.
But the reason I use this little blog each October to fund-raise is not because of how much I love the hearts of these people (even though I truly do).  It is because I know their mission can make a real difference.  Stories can be heard.  Lives can be changed.  Cycles can be broken.  And we can ALL help make that happen.
Would you please join us in making a difference?
You can:
1) PRAY.
Take time to get to know what Teen Lifeline is all about by reading the information on the website or visiting with someone who knows more about the organization.  Then, commit to be praying for the vision and future of Teen Lifeline, and for the lives of the teenagers impacted by the efforts.  There is even a place under the “giving” section of the website  to send an email to the prayer coordinator to get more details about how you can be specifically praying.
2) GIVE.
Here is a link to our families’ 5K fundraising website (with a cute picture of our adorable blonds, of course!) >> 
Would you please consider making a donation?  Any amount truly does help!
For the next couple of weeks I’m going to ask over and over and over for you to give.  I’m willing to risk annoying you just to let you know how important this is :).  I only do it once a year and I appreciate your patience and participation.  Know that whether you live here or across the country, or around the world, you are making a difference.
3) SHARE.
Share this message and spread the word.  You can share the link to this blog or share the link to our fundraising page.  Help us spread the word about Teen Lifeline and give others the opportunity to partner with this organization.
Thank you for the amazing way so many of you already support teenagers in your own life, and for the way you support and love our family.  We are so grateful for you!
Sincerely,
ABL

What’s their story? – Advocating for the "trouble" kids

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When we went to KJ’s patriotic performance in the spring, we could not have been prouder of our adorable child.  Granted it was a mere 20 minutes of signing songs, saying the pledge, and each taking a turn at the mic to tell about all things “American”.  Granted, for most of the performance, unless you strained your neck (and camera) just right (which I assure you we did), you couldn’t even SEE our tiny guy.  But he is ours.  And we think he’s tops.
Later that same month, he raked in the awards to prove it.  I’d like to call them “family awards” because we ALL put in some serious efforts to those after-school-reading and math programs just to earn points just to get a stinkin’ trophy, thankyouverymuch.  In the ceremony every kid in every kindergarten class got to prance across the stage, have their name called, and swell with pride at their list of accomplishments- accomplishments of the kind only a kindergartner would consider success.  But they certainly do.  KJ did.  AND we did, too.

But shortly after KJ walked across the stage that day another little 5 or 6-year-old girl walked across the stage and had her “success” defined quite differently.  She simply got “Principals Club”, the award every kid gets.  Not “cheetah math gold, silver or bronze”.  No “Reading Olympics” medal.   No “mastery of study skills.”  Not even “good conduct”.  She kind of shuffled across the stage, hugged the teacher, and paused (like all the kids were supposed to) for her picture.  Only no one was there to take it.  And I lost it.
There was a kiddo or two like her in every class that day.  Ones who obviously weren’t “dressed” for awards day, who didn’t have a cluster of family members welcoming them afterward, who didn’t struggle to juggle all of their prizes in their proud little hands.  And my heart broke.  Not because it should be fair.  Not because all kids should “get the same thing”.  Not because I thought anyone should get an award they didn’t earn.  Nope, I fought back tears because I wondered if anyone knew their story.  Did anyone ask, “why?”
I could relate.  I deeply love a little boy who had anything but “mastery conduct” during his first “big school” year last year.  A little boy who didn’t have family members present at any of his special pre-k events at school.  A little boy who sometimes wears clothes that don’t fit.  A little boy who sometimes gets labeled for his behavior before anyone takes time to know his story, a rough one.  And that day, I could so easily picture a sweet red-head shuffling across the stage.  I could hear the imaginary voices of other parents saying “That kid couldn’t even get it together enough for a conduct certificate”.  I could sense his disappointment when he paused for pictures and realized the faces he wanted to see most weren’t there.  Again.  
That day, like so many others since then, I prayed that someone would take time to know his story.  I prayed that the little girl in KJ’s class, the others like her that day, and the one I love so much, would all find an advocate in school.  A teacher who sees their hidden talents and skills, who knows their obstacles and sets them up to believe they can overcome them.  I prayed for other parents, too.  Ones who let their kids be friends with the less-than-perfect playmate, who speaks blessing into someone else’s child right along side their own.  I prayed for advocates.  And I prayed for the strength to be one.  
I’m pretty sure I could get as many different political opinions as I have readers, if I tried.  But I’m fairly certain we will all agree on this:
Each of us is responsible.
Not just in our current political state, not just in our current economic state, not only if we have kids, not only if we work in a profession that provides opportunities-  We all can make a difference.  This isn’t some over-idealistic-push toward changing the world.  I’m “just” talking about changing lives, just those lives we each come in contact with.  You can vote and write letters to your senator (maybe you should) and you can eloquently explain your political opinions until you are blue in the face (maybe you shouldn’t).  But unless YOU (and I) are willing to actually do something I can guarantee that the kid next door won’t ever have his story heard.  He’s not waiting for his district’s Senator to stop by.  He’s waiting for you.
You probably already know who “he” is, don’t you?
The kid who kinda smells bad so no one ever wants to sit next to him.
The kid who gets asked to leave youth group events because of the inappropriate things she says.
The kid who no teacher wants to have in class because teachers don’t know how to “control him”.
The kid who has spent more time at the alternative school than the regular classroom.  Since 6th grade.
The kid who bullies other kids on the internet.
The kid who is pregnant at 14.
The kid who drops out.
The kid who gave up.
Have you ever really asked “Why?”  Have you heard “his” story?  Did you notice that no one cheered for them in the program or took their picture on awards day?  I know I don’t always notice.  Too often, I don’t stop to actually ask.  
But here’s the thing:
 I know about this incredible organization that makes knowing teenagers- really KNOWING them- their mission.  They are out to find “those” kids.  The ones at the alternative school.  The ones drowning in their bad choices.  The ones pregnant.  The ones labeled for their behaviors.  The ones who need to have their stories heard.  
Teen Lifeline KNOWS the power of listening to teenagers, of helping them listen to each other, of providing them a safe place to learn life skills.  The unique thing is, this organization doesn’t run away from “troubled” kids, they run toward them.  They have this lofty notion that maybe if they can provide hope, if they can provide an opportunity to overcome obstacles, if they actually DO SOMETHING, they might just maybe make a real difference.  One life at a time.  
And you know what?  It works!
It is time for Teen Lifeline’s annual 5K, one of their only huge fundraisers each year to support the work they do.  Its the 5th year for this fundraiser and I can honestly tell you I’ve never been more excited about the difference I truly believe the dollars collected this year will make.  
My very own, RRL, is the executive director of Teen Lifeline.  He knows about coming from a broken home, having to fight to overcome obstacles, and he certainly appreciates the advocates he had along the way who heard his story.   As a result he didn’t become his obstacles, he overcame his obstacles.  He stood on top of his obstacles and took a flying leap forward.  Those advocates gave him a springboard to take his story and use it to open doors for others to be heard. 
RRL is teamed up with an incredible Program Director and a super supportive Board of Directors.  You won’t find a group of people with bigger hearts or who are more inclined to work together to help teenagers.
But the reason I use this little blog each October to fund-raise is not because of how much I love the hearts of these people (even though I truly do).  It is because I know their mission can make a real difference.  Stories can be heard.  Lives can be changed.  Cycles can be broken.  And we can ALL help make that happen.
Would you please join us in making a difference?
You can:
1) PRAY.
Take time to get to know what Teen Lifeline is all about by reading the information on the website or visiting with someone who knows more about the organization.  Then, commit to be praying for the vision and future of Teen Lifeline, and for the lives of the teenagers impacted by the efforts.  There is even a place under the “giving” section of the website  to send an email to the prayer coordinator to get more details about how you can be specifically praying.
2) GIVE.
Here is a link to our families’ 5K fundraising website (with a cute picture of our adorable blonds, of course!) >> 
Would you please consider making a donation?  Any amount truly does help!
For the next couple of weeks I’m going to ask over and over and over for you to give.  I’m willing to risk annoying you just to let you know how important this is :).  I only do it once a year and I appreciate your patience and participation.  Know that whether you live here or across the country, or around the world, you are making a difference.
3) SHARE.
Share this message and spread the word.  You can share the link to this blog or share the link to our fundraising page.  Help us spread the word about Teen Lifeline and give others the opportunity to partner with this organization.
Thank you for the amazing way so many of you already support teenagers in your own life, and for the way you support and love our family.  We are so grateful for you!
Sincerely,
ABL

It shouldn’t be. But it is…NINE YEARS!

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Today is a big day for me!
A day that according to my surgeons and doctors should never have been celebrated.

In 2004, I underwent extensive GI surgery hoping to eliminate the chronic pain I’d been dealing with related to Crohn’s disease.  At best, I was told, I might get 3-5 years of pain free living and even then I’d likely need medication to manage it.

It seems to me today that maybe they forgot to factor in HOPE.  They knew what they knew- but not what HE knew.  And boy HOWDY did He show them.

Because after:
One hike to the bottom of the grand canyon

Lots of half marathons (three while pregnant)

Four babies (three completely without medication).

And a ton of other fun…

I can officially say:

9.  Nueve.  Neun.   Neuf.  Novem.  Nove.  Nau. NINE YEARS!!  
Pain free.  And not just that, but medication free as well.

Don’t be confused by this list of my accomplishments over the last nine years.  Join me in recognizing that there is not a single ounce of any of that I could have done.  Oh, sure- saying “it shouldn’t be” was great motivation for me to try (it is so strange that my kids have a stubborn streak).  But when I see this list, stare into those sweet faces, remember how far we’ve come…welp, I’m simply overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed with praise for the ONE who provides beyond what we can ask or imagine.  The One who grinned at the thought of “maybe 3-5 years” and delighted in providing so much more.  

And don’t be confused.  If today was different.  If there comes a day when it IS different.  Whether there are 9 more years, 3 more days, or a lifetime of living without pain- I’ll still declare HIM mighty to heal.  I’ll still shout out “HE is mighty to save”.  I’ll still remember that He is doing more than we can ever imagine.  Don’t get me wrong- it won’t be easy.  There are other areas of my life that have certainly proven that hope doesn’t mean “what I want, when I want it”.  Other “miracles” I’ve HOPED for have tested my willingness to believe.  But isn’t it always true that the best things are worth fighting for, and lots of times you WILL have to fight for them.

I’ll fight for Hope every.single.time.  I will chose to believe in miracles.
It just so happens that today it is easy.  Today is a day to celebrate.

It shouldn’t be.  But it is.
And that’s simply miraculous.
ABL

All dressed up with someplace to go

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I hear the wedding planning business is a booming one.
Apparently, brides are willing to shell out big bucks if you will make her day perfect.
I could write a whole book about my thoughts on that matter.
It probably wouldn’t be very popular.
But if I’m going to tap into this booming wedding business, maybe instead I should write something called:
“Being the mom of the wedding parties’ mini-members.”
With the subtitle 
“You are going to need a LOT of pennies”
Its not that I have any kind of marketable knack.
Its just that my children have made a grand total of 20 combined appearances 
(in 8 separate weddings).
And you can’t do that and not learn a few things.
Like buying miniature tuxedos on ebay.
We own four tuxedos (in two different sizes) with an assortment of ties
 as well as an array of flower girl dresses.
And the trick of giving bribes which fit in their pockets or baskets- like pennies.

Surprisingly enough, I love it when my children are asked to play this special role.
Having my children be the mini-wedding-party-members honestly doesn’t stress me out (anymore).
Don’t get me wrong. There has been quite a lot of trial and error.
Mostly error.
(like the time KJ’s newly polished BLACK shoe came in contact with a brides beautiful WHITE dress)


We’ve definitely had to make some adjustments to our wedding routine over time.

Mostly we’ve learned that you can’t roll at the same pace or schedule as the rest of the wedding party
Which is actually how we got these pictures.  All 6 of us were hiding out. Outside.  
Far away from the rest of the getting-ready-for-the-wedding-hub-bub.

We’ve learned that since the majority of brides and grooms have never been parents- shockingly, they don’t really get why certain times of the day and certain situations are recipes for disaster.  And they shouldn’t have to be worried about those things on their big day.  So, only we-their parents- can really advocate for our kiddos.  Which means,  I’ve even said “no” to requests that I thought wouldn’t be in their best interest.

But when the requests are reasonable (even over-the-top but still reasonable)–

You just figure out ways to make things fun so they’ll want to participate.
You have to plan to do things that they don’t normally get to do.
And you have to talk about the cake.
A lot.
So, if you are looking for a circus to entertain during your big day,
I happen to know where you can find one.

OR, even better,
if your kiddos are the ones invited to play this special role- just remember:
Nothing they can do can actually keep the bride and groom from getting married.
Even if they do invite the father-of-the-groom to play catch with the ring pillow mid-ceremony.
So sit back and enjoy your children being dressed up and doted on.
It’s that simple.

Well, that-
 and bring a lot of pennies.

ABL


This series of pictures is one of my very favorites of these four blonds.  I love that we captured them exactly as I imagine I’ll remember this stage in life- a lotta parts crazy with even more parts adorable.  We snapped away while we waited for the summer wedding of RRL’s sister to begin.  And if you think these pictures are silly…you should see the ones from when three of these rascals figured out the concept of the photo booth at the reception.

Being in the top 0.1% is a Rough Gig

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It has been officially confirmed.  My children are in the top 0.1%.
But being tops is not always all it is cracked up to be.

Don’t get me wrong.  I already knew I have some pretty AH-mazing kiddos. I mean seriously stellar. KJ’s reading level, in first grade, astounds me. He can read a story and really bring it to life. Cbug can do math in his head so quickly it makes my own head spin, counting by crazy numbers like 8 and doing simple division (he just started K). Lou’s nurturing instincts are off the charts, she can read people in a way that is wise beyond her years. And the way Tito says “thank you” is enough to make me wanna buy him a pony (nearly).

 When you get me started talking about my kids its pretty tough not to brag.  But all of this is purely based on my own 100% biased, cuz I’m their Momma, opinion. And I’m totally cool with that. I think my kids are the best, smartest, funniest, cutest, sweetest in the world. Because they are mine.

This week that all changed.  It is now absolutely official.  I have real scientific proof that my four children are in a category above nearly all other humans on the planet (or at least those tested by certain manufacturers of cleaning products). To be honest, I wish I didn’t have this proof at all- because it turns out, my 4 kiddos have germs that are more persistent than approximately 99.9% of all other germs. I know because I’ve used this.

and this.

and this.

not to mention a homemade solution.

All trying to kill the germs in our house that have resulted in nearly 3 weeks of stomach bug/flu. All 4 kids have had it. It comes and goes. But mostly comes. In three weeks, I think we’ve slept through the night twice without waking up to puke…or um, the other.

We are exhausted. Running low on patience. And I’ve cried plenty a “I must be a terrible mom” fit into my pillow. But that isn’t going to be where I stay in all of this. This stinkin’ bug remains, but it doesn’t get the victory at our house. If it lasts another day or another month (PLEASE LORD JESUS NOT ANOTHER MONTH)- it doesn’t win. satan (with a little ‘s’ even at the beginning of a sentence) would like nothing more than to use this trying time in parenting to rob me of my confidence, joy and purpose which is from The LORD. I’m convinced that sneaky rascal would like nothing more than to let this be about more than just a stomach bug.  he’d love to see a real battle.

As I kneel beside my children while they hug porcelain AGAIN. Or worse, as I kneel on all fours to clean up where they “missed”. that conniving devil meets me there. he’s whispering in my ear those age old lies to moms about being inadequate, not trying hard enough, failing, not employing every possible tool, comparing to other moms, etc. And today I’m choosing to remind myself…
I’M NOT LISTENING.
ABSOLUTELY.NOT.GIVING.IN.

Because I believe in a God who is bigger.  One who may love to surprise me, but is never sneaky or deceiving. One that doesn’t have to meet me in the bathroom. He doesn’t meet me there because He is consistent.  Walking with me all along. He is the one already with me as I’ve laid hands on my children each night, as I’ve begged Him to cleanse our home, as I’ve cried out in my sleep (or lack thereof), as I’ve spoken scripture over them, as I’ve longed for understanding and direction. And He’s the one who is with me when I don’t feel like doing any of it.

I feel quite certain that many of you have some genius ideas about how to fix this ole nasty stomach bug for us- and I’ll assure you… I’ve tried (or at least googled) 99.9% of them. But even if I haven’t. I’m gonna ask you to refrain from any “tips” on fixing this. Be mindful of my fragile Momma state and instead, today, will you simply join me in the REVOLT.  Join me in choosing hope in parenting, even over silly things like the stomach bug.

Join me in choosing laughter in these down and dirty Momma moments.  The ones you know will pass quickly (gross pun intended), but you still gotta work hard to find a bright side. Today, my silver lining is this:
If it could be cleaned, washed, thrown away, scrubbed, sprayed, or bathed…it has been.
More times than I can count.
Yet, those stinkin’ germs persist.
So at least we’ve got this going for us:
My kids (or at least their germs) are top notch-
in the top 0.1% of the whole wide world.
And now I have proof.

Hooray for us.

ABL

ps- stomach bug, you are now free to leave. officially.

FDOS- The one I didn’t see coming

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This is the last one.  
I promise.
But when your kids, who were supposed to start school all on the same day
spread it out over the whole week-
well, it takes several posts.
And the last was certainly not least.
After sadly missing his first two days of school, KJ finally got his big day on Thursday.
The First Day of First Grade.
There were lots of things I knew to anticipate about the craziness of the first week of school-
the paperwork, the meetings, the schedule changes, the emotions, the lunches, the routines
But I didn’t see this one coming.
I knew the brothers would be thrilled to walk into the building together for the first time.  

I correctly assumed they would come home at the end of the day telling tales of seeing each other in the hallway and cafeteria.

But what I didn’t expect
was that this guy- the big brother of the group- would be so apprehensive.
Looking back, 
I totally should have seen it coming.  
Because he’d missed the first two days, he was walking into a situation where everyone else seemingly already knew what to do.  And he didn’t know what to expect.

I should have know that because last year didn’t go like he expected, he would be unsure about starting another year.

He melted in beside me as we walked to his classroom, squeezing my hand and sticking a little closer than usual.  And I totally should have known that my boy who LOVED being at home all summer would not be over-the-top excited about restarting the days of being away so much.  

But my very first indicator, should have been before we even left home.  After I’d snapped a few FDOS pictures of this big guy.  He squeezed me and said “How about one of just you and me?”  UM….YES, PLEASE!

As he sat in his desk and I could see a few tears welling, I couldn’t decide whether to just cry so he’d feel better about letting loose, too.  Or walk away quickly to make it easier for both of us.
In the end, I did neither.  
I leaned in close, hugged him just the right amount for a big first grader AND still a little bit my baby,
and whispered in his ear…
I love you.
You’ve got this because God has made you a mighty encourager.
Find others to help and encourage and the day will fly by.
I will always and forever be proud of you.
I can’t wait to hear all about it when I pick you up at 3.
And then I left.  I didn’t get to see a change in his eyes, like I did his little brother.  But when I picked him up- bounding toward the car- the van door was barely open before his excited voice proclaimed “I GOT A TICKET” and various other fdos victories.
Even going back and documenting the day now, 
I’m flooded with prayers for my children and their time in school.
Oh, Lord, give me strength to let go.  Help me find ways to prepare my children for the paths before them, but not hold on so tightly they miss the opportunities to soar alone.  Forgive me when there are times I miss the opportunities to speak your blessings into them.  Flood their days with the power of your love and grace.  Help them have confidence in knowing that they are YOURS.  And Lord in that confidence, give them opportunities to hold their heads up and proclaim your name.  
Conqueror of fears, giver of good gifts, Lord.
Even on the first day of school.
Amen.
It’s a good thing this was only the 2nd year of many starts of school.  Because apparently this Momma still has a lot to learn.  About myself.  About my children.  About school.  About my God.
Nope, I didn’t see that one coming at all.
ABL

Lou and Her Brother (who finally got a blog name) Go to School

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I mean, its not a competition.
Not at all.
But if it were,
it just got stiff.

I didn’t think anything could top Cbug’s fdos story and pictures.  He was so handsome, so silly, so cooperative.  But then RRL took these pictures of Tito and Lou before they headed off to their first day.  A little less cooperative- but oh my, in their coordinated outfits and adorable signs (thank Kristi) and the spikey hair beside his sister’s pink bow.  That boys’ sly little smirk and the princesses sparkly shoes. Welp. Just go ahead and MELT.MY.HEART.

I was more than a little bit disappointed that our FDOS that didn’t go like we planned meant that RRL would have to take Tito and Lou in for their first day without me.

I was already torn up on the inside about my baby going to “school” but to not get to walk him in myself…. on second thought, maybe I’m not quite ready to talk about it.  Let’s just get back to the adorable pictures.

The good news is, our little spikey haired darling is one of only 5 kids in his “class”.  With 2 teachers.  Add some bonus hugs through the day from other teachers and friends (who already love his big brothers and sister) and he is hardly deprived or forgotten.  Quite the opposite.

And, of course,
he has big sister around to watch out for him.

Lou is already loving school.

Jumped right in, even after missing the first day.

And hasn’t looked back.  Poor thing, it is certainly sad she doesn’t have any confidence.

She was made for school.  She would probably rather be teaching it, but she’ll settle for this in the meantime.  She loves reading to her babies, or brothers.  She loves writing her name.  She loves colors.  She loves SCHOOL.

So glad these two will spend the year together being so well loved at a place we’ve come to love.   Its the only way I’m able to keep working, even part-time, knowing that they are there.You certainly do become bonded to people that spend so much of their time caring for your treasures.  And the sweet people at this little preschool go way above and beyond.  Can’t say enough good things about them.  What a blessing!

FDOS #2 for our casa.  Check.
ABL

*as a fun note- I’m trying out a new blog-name for the baby-est member of our team.  I just didn’t like that “Little Bear” isn’t any sort of derivative of his real name.  It doesn’t match the others.  I know.  These are the quirky things I think about.

Cbug’s First Day of School

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Technically, it was EVERYONE’s first day of school.  All four were supposed to start their school adventures today.

But as is often the case when you have lots of small children, this day did not go as planned.

KJ and Lou both woke up sick during the night.
And since I was staying home with them anyway, Little Bear stayed, too.

Which means…

THIS GUY
had the first day of school alone.

It stinks because he and KJ were SO pumped to finally be going to the same school again.  They’ve been counting down to this day.  And on meet the teacher night last week they were attached at the hip with excitement.

This was Meet the Teacher night.  Watch out world when these two DO get to arrive at school together.  Sheesh.
(shockingly, the above photo shoot was completely unscripted)

Which is actually why in some ways, I’m glad Cbug got to fly solo this morning.
It’s funny.  I kind of feel like I’ve written this post before.  Could be deja vu, or it could be that it actually happened before. Like maybe the first day that KJ and Cbug were supposed to go to the same preschool.

Even without KJ, Cbug had plenty of silly to cover the fdos pictures.

While I would never EVER wish the last few hours on KJ.  Poor guy is miserable.  And I hate that he had the disappointment of missing his first day.  I sincerely do.

But Cbug is just a different kid when he’s forced to forge ahead alone.  He and I got to walk to school, just the two of us (well, when I could keep up with him).  He didn’t stop talking the entire time.  He was so excited, he could hardly stand it.

I got to walk him to his classroom without dividing my attention. 

And I’m so glad I did.  Because as we headed down the hall, he becames more than a little bit unsure about the whole thing.  Not necessarily sad or anxious even, just trying to absorb it all.  There were people passing all around, people calling out instructions, so much to see hanging in the hallways.  He was definitely over stimulated- and I saw that familiar look in his eyes.

The one that says “In about 5 seconds I’m either going to need to hide somewhere ALONE with my legos or I’m going to completely breakdown.”

Even with me snuggled next to him- this was his face.

Which is why his teachers first words to her “babies” was MUSIC to both of our ears.
“Boys and Girls, you have three choices.  You can either read a book, play with playdough at your own desk, or just listen while I talk to the Mommies and Daddies.”

She was speaking his love language.

In his own world- happy with playdough.

And as he worked on his very own blue playdough, it was like he had just a few minutes to regroup alone (even in the crowd) and get ready for his day.  I might have missed that transition in his eyes if I’d had to rush over to KJ’s class.  And I can honestly say, after I saw him shift, I was easily able to walk out without a tear (from either of us).

Wow what a difference!

It was certainly disappointing that RRL didn’t get to be there.  And such a bummer that he and KJ didn’t get to share the first day.

But I’m incredibly thankful for those moments this morning with my big Kindergartner.

At big school
For the very first time.

LOVE HIM!
ABL

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