Isn’t it funny how even personalities within the same family can be so different and interesting? You never know what “flavor” your going to get when you meet your new baby for the first time. They usually start out pretty much the same. They are cute and scrunchy and crying. You can’t blame them for being a little upset. Who wouldn’t feel a bit claustrophobic squeezing through a dark tunnel only to be grabbed by a scary looking person wearing a mask and rubber gloves.

It isn’t until you bring baby home that you begin to discover that she has such a sweet disposition and giggles at all of your jokes. Or that he is a natural born athlete wiggling constantly and trying desperately to get up and walk.

My firstborn doesn’t fit any of these descriptions. He has always been so intense. I remember taking him to a high school basketball game in his car seat. I sat him down next to me facing behind me so that I could keep an eye on him while watching the game. When it was over, a couple behind me commented on how my baby stares. They said he didn’t blink the whole game. They even used the word “intimidating” to describe him. I wrinkled my face a little, wondering what to say about that, but all that came to mind was, “he’s four months old!” I mean you have to wonder about a man’s self-confidence if a tiny baby is intimidating to him!

That wasn’t the last time I heard about the intensity of my son. Every time we took him to restaurants, our waitpeople would try their darndest to make him smile. It was actually pretty awkward and embarrassing to see how hard they were trying only to deliver the check and admit defeat. If only they had listened to our forewarning, they might not need psychological help to overcome their rejection issues after their encounter with Isaac.

Now that Isaac is in school his intensity is expressed in other ways, like his personal mission to destroy Santa Claus. We never really celebrated Santa and have always been very honest about who he is, but my black and white son just doesn’t get the idea of live and let live. We try to tell him that it’s okay if other families and children believe in Santa to which he replies, “ how can their parents LIE to them”! “Besides”, he continues, “Christmas is about everyone giving not just Santa.”

So when the issue of the Tooth Fairy arose, Travis didn’t even bother to put up a fight. Now Isaac tells everyone at school that their mom is the Tooth Fairy and I continue to be the secretly hated mother, the killjoy of the school.

My friend and I were enjoying some time together while our passionate 5 year-old boys played together. We were interrupted by their intense theological debate. Isaac refused to back down from his belief that God loves everyone even bad guys. I don’t think he would even hear his friend out to detect a possible misunderstanding. I guess that is a lot like many full-grown Bible Scholars. Next time you hear one arguing piously, you can tell him he sounds like a 5 year-old!

I don’t mean to imply that Isaac doesn’t have the biggest heart of any kid I know. He stands up for his friends, he cries if he thinks I am sad, he gives his money to the poor, he always considers others and values their feelings. He tells children at the park about Jesus’ love without thought of being rejected or teased. He grows very attached to people and to his surroundings. I know I am raising a mighty warrior who is going to change the world for God. His intensity and passion no doubt intimidates the enemy of this world. This knowledge is sobering to me everyday as I mother him. I think carefully about passing on my values to him and teaching him to have a faith in God of his own to carry him through the “war” of life.

Babies come in all kinds of flavors. Some are sweet and easy. Others are stronger in their flavor but still filled with the same sugar and potential for enjoyment. They are all different, but they are all called to greatness in their future. God has a plan for each of them. It’s our job to appreciate who they are now as we labor tirelessly over diapers, or messy rooms, or smart mouths each day to refine their character. Our reward may not come for many years, like around twenty. But what an honor it will be when our children rise up and call us blessed; when we see them making a difference in the world. Seems like an eternity away today, but in an in an instant we will soon realize just how worth it each day was.

This is the first in a serious of blogs I have decided to call, “What Was I Thinking!” I have had these moments all throughout my life. They are times when all common sense or reason is brushed aside for the sake of an experience or even just pure laziness. I may decide it would be cool to jump off a really high bridge to impress my high school boyfriend only to pop out of the water gasping like an idiot for the breath that had been forced out of me upon impact. Or maybe, I think I can give the baby a sipy cup without the stopper so I don’t have to be troubled to find one in the drawer. Inevitably he will dump the milk all over my favorite irreplaceable chair. Another “What Was I Thinking Moment” occurred when I chose to let the baby run around without a diaper after his bath while I lay down for a moment of rest. I was rudely awakened by the aroma of baby poop and brown butt cheeks in my face. Going on a scavenger hunt for a smelly pile was not what I had planned for the day. Anyway, I think you get the idea.

The other morning I took my son to school in my pajamas as usual. No big deal, I don’t have to get out of the car or get near enough to anyone for them to discover I have not yet showered and brushed my teeth and hair. The extra 20 minutes of sleep are well worth the trade off…most days anyway.

On this particular day I decided that I should also stop by the grocery store to pick up soup for my sick boy at home. It was going to be a bit of a sacrifice if I happened to run into someone I knew, but I needed to do it before Travis left for work and I was forced to throw sick kids in the car.

I don’t per say keep track of what’s in my checking account. That may be why Trav has given me my own account so that I don’t end up spending ALL of the money or something. I was still quite surprised when my card was declined and the man in line behind me had to wait as they re-scanned each item and put it aside for me while I called my husband in a panic. Since our internet was down at home there was no way for him to bail me out by transferring money as he has done so many times before. I stood only a few small feet away from the examining eyes of the clerk as I explained I would have to come back later. I could see the judgment in her eyes as the traveled from my nappy hair, to my pink pj’s, and all the way down to my warm Roxy boots. All the way home I just kept asking myself, “what was I thinking”!!!

Some people surf, others post surveys, but when I am bored, I like to blog. I never knew it would become so addicting, yet here I sit going over the last year of my life trying to think of any interesting stories I have experienced. Usually my life is made up of crazy little tells not so funny in the moment, but when the embarrassment or frustration is gone, I love having a new story to laugh about and share with others. This year, however, has been very different for me for many reasons, but only one that I am able to speak of online. Never before have I seen visible evidence of aging appear on my face, but being a home school mom has accomplished much in the mirror.

My husband told me when our boys were very small that he wanted to wait an extra year before putting them in kindergarten. “Yeah, yeah, whatever”, I thought. So, I started my eldest as soon as he was of age, ignoring Trav’s warnings. Isaac had an awful year in public school with typical little boy set backs like fine motor skills not clicking until the year was half over. I watched as his confidence diminished and his attitude towards school turned icy cold.

We got started home schooling as soon as Kindergarten was finished and then we spent our whole year together ending in one or both of us crying. I gave up my writers group, and cultivating new friendships, hobbies, even much time on the computer to invest my life in my wounded son. Isaac and the other boys sacrificed play dates, time at the pool, and the park; all the fun things we use to do together, in order to get Isaac through this difficult season in his life.

Being responsible for instilling godly character and purpose in my son as well as being responsible to his education was sometimes more than I could bare. I spent many afternoons in my closet yelling at God and begging for a way out. Sometimes I just wanted to run away from it all. The lie that things would be better and easier if I was on my own was calling from the darkest corners of my mind. I had to cling to the truth I knew in order to silence the enemy’s attacks. God had a plan, His ways are higher than my ways, and the only relief I would ever see would come from Him.

Which brings me to the crazy little tell that began this blog. Travis had done something he does not do often in our marriage. He put his foot down and told me I had to find a new solution for next year. With that in mind, Isaac had pushed every one of my buttons on this particular day, but instead of getting angry I sternly explained to him that I was getting on the computer to find a school to send him too. There was screaming and crying and empty promises as I found Harvest Christian Academy and began to call from my home phone. When I was finished Isaac told me that I had better check the freezer. He said that he wiped his tears with my cell phone, dipped it in water, then stuck it in the freezer! He thought it would keep me from making the call.

To make a long story not quite as long, my whole family is now looking forward to being a part of Harvest next year, maybe especially me. We are enjoying this summer at the pool and the library, and lunches together just like we use to. I get to be my son’s biggest cheerleader and focus more on bringing him through the issues of life while entrusting his education to an amazing tutor this summer.

Today, I am giving myself a much needed day off and calling it “Mommy Day”. I am going to blog, talk on the phone, finish a magazine, and see if I can apply enough cream to erase some of this year from my face…all while in my pajamas. And while I have the mirror out, maybe I can uncover some other stubborn areas God is warning me about whether through the voice of my husband or one crying out in the wilderness to save myself some pain and wrinkles. LOL!

I have always lived my life highly caffeinated and on an adrenaline rush. Even if I am not running late to start with, I somehow find a little something extra to throw in my my daily routine that sets me back and gets me moving faster. Since having kids, I don’t have to look too hard anymore. Years of this pattern has led me to believe that I am subconsciously addicted to adrenaline. Fortunately, I don’t have a pattern of tardiness to go along with my disfunction, but even still, I may have trouble on it’s way to my mail box.

While running late on Monday to my prayer meeting on an empty gas tank, I may have been cutting it a little too close with the new stop light cameras. There were at least three questionable moments. And today I could not rush Caleb through his books fast enough before heading out to pick up Isaac from the tutor’s. “Sorry Caleb, no time to look at the pictures and actually enjoy our time together here at Starbucks.” Driving eighty on the freeway as I approached an officer facing me at a turnabout, I threw on the breaks knowing I had been caught. It’s all over, Travis is going to lecture me and I am going to have to take it like a woman cause I deserve it. I watched as he pulled around behind me but miraculously never pulled me over. I can just imagine getting too many points all in one week and losing my license. That is probably not the funniest thought I have ever had, but I laugh anyway.

Next on the agenda, get gas and run to the library to begin our fun day together. I was so tired by the time we got there all I could do was slouch in the oversized chair forcing long deep breathes. Are we having fun yet?

You get the idea. I know I am not the stop and smell the roses kind of person. I struggle with the here and now of enjoying my kids, my friends, and family. I am frustrated with the routines of life on my quest to get to the finish line.

I once heard that the natural coincides with the spiritual and if that is true, what has all this meant for my spiritual life? I wonder how often I have prayed to be changed and then despised the process that God used to answer my prayer? How many times have I treated my “quiet times” like a drive thru service? Or, have I said, “here am I God, use me”, but then walked away from the testing he set before me.

We all know in our head that life is short. Kids grow up too fast. The duties will all be there in the morning, but the people, the children’s giggles and their hearts may not. We know it, we just don’t always live like we believe it.

I hope that I can put to rest the “beam me up Scotty” mindset in my spiritual life as well. The last few months I have enjoyed drawing my strength from lingering in God’s presence. I would not have made it through this year if it had not been for the wisdom imparted by the Holy Spirit through the school of Hard Knox. There is a depth that flows from a life who has had nothing else to cling to but God. I have learned not to despise the processes, the hard times. I have seen how they bring forth fullness of life.

It is common knowledge when preparing to become a parent that one must change diapers, but I was not prepared for what comes after potty training. I am thankful to be out of that stage in my life…at least for awhile longer before I have to go through it again with Austin. It has actually been long enough now that I am ready to talk about the traumas and maybe even share a laugh or two about it.

I was so excited when I could finally put away the diaper bag and the “moist toilettes”. No longer would I have to roll up my sleeves, hold my breath and remove human discharge from a wiggling child’s bottom while trying desperately NOT to get any on me. But then came the calls from the bathroom. “Moooommyyy”…..then even louder,”MOOMMMMYYYYYYY”. ” I need help wiping my bottom.” I doesn’t sound like that big of a transition, but the mess I use to remove with a handy dandy wipey is now much more difficult with a less sturdy piece of toilet paper. Darn, where are my plastic gloves when I need them! I tried to show them how to do it on their own, but when it comes down to the truth, kids don’t want the dirty job either. So the battle of the wills begins.

After months of the calling out from the bathroom and strained affirmation announced back by me, “you can do it, your a big boy now!” they finally gave up, but not without continued torture. Phase Two of the transition began when a naked child approached me, pants down, and fully bent over he says, “Mom, did I get it all?” Choking down the last bite of my lunch, I made the mistake of answering his question while staring into his “big brown eye” (if ya know what I mean). I really do not recommend this unless you want the phase to last longer. When I finally learned my lesson and refused to open my eyes and look anymore, the boys needed to find another way to torture me. Clogging the toilet with as much TP as they could possibly stuff into it was not enough. Nor was putting dirty toilet paper into the garbage. Come on, we don’t live in Mexico or Brazil. That is something I had only seen while on the mission field!

Phase Three, just when I think it’s all over, I find a child standing on the bathroom sink, bent over, butt to the mirror, several squares in hand ready for any missed spots that the mirror may expose. I really felt the mom part of me saying I needed to do something to stop this madness, but the lady in me went into self preservation mode. I picked my jaw off of the floor and quietly walked away. What I don’t know or go into denial about, won’t hurt me…I hope.

Last night after dinner Travis asked me to take the baby away so he could spend time with the big boys for awhile. Austin LOVES his daddy so much and is very demanding of his attention…every last drop of it. I needed to run to Super Walmart anyway so I scooped up the little man and off we went…without shoes or socks. Oops. Oh well, I guess that is what happens to tired mothers of 3 at the end of the day. Austin and I had a ton of fun together in the store. I was in no hurry to get back so we laughed and flirted. We got a lot of attention from the other shoppers. But then I made the mistake of walking past a fuzzy monkey which is just too much for my little bear cuddler to handle. He was overcome with grief because mommy would not let him slobber all over the unpurchased merchandise. I then had to hold him on my hip with one arm and push the overflowing basket with the other. I put him down so that I could grab several items from the frozen food and, guess what, he didn’t want back up. He had had a taste of freedom and was unwilling to give it up. Maybe if he had been my first child, back when I still cared what strangers thought about my parenting, I would have forced the issue, but no, he was using such restraint as we passed the bright Christmas tree and following closely by me with his bare feet. I thought of my friend who is raising her 4 boys on a farm and all the disgusting things they have lived through and I realized that we were going to be just fine, even as the gasping older women passed by. Mommy practiced a little restraint of her own and didn’t tell the nasty lady off…not even with her eyes. Amazingly enough, we both made home safely and in good health.

This morning began for me at 6:30 am when I had to discipline the “brothers” for all their yelling upstairs while the baby was still sleeping. They had already succeeded in waking me up, and I can’t take an upset baby before I have had my caffeine of choice for the day. My day seemed to get better quickly. I was able to go back to sleep for awhile and this time I was pleasantly awaken by my children presenting homemade books of thanks and love to me. The hugs and kisses were the icing. I began my day with a Monster drink and Tae Bo while the boys ate breakfast and began their home-school.

I should have got had my hopes up. I know that I generally don’t like Mondays. I know that I don’t bounce back easily when woken up before 7am. I had set GOALS for myself. It was too good to be true.

The boys were not focusing, they struggled with their attitudes a little, but we made it. Now for my fourth and final goal since I had already worked out, cleaned the kitchen, and did school. I was finally going to fold and put away the three baskets of laundry that had been sprawled out across my bedroom floor for the past two weeks. I figured I had no choice since, my laundry room is now piled high with laundry in need of washing. Laundry, for me, feels like a prison, actually more like slavery. I am stuck doing it, without pay and only a small glimmer of hope that one day everyone will do their own and I can finally be free. Someday, maybe my family will appreciate me as a person and not just as a wife and mother who has nothing better in life to do, but pick up after them. So call me a dreamer!

I thought I got my big break when the boys were playing so nicely together on the couch. They must have sensed it. The brothers decided that in order to continue their nice play, they were going to need the Rescue Hero toys from outside, the ones that had been out their since before all the rain had turned our backyard into a mud pit infested with flies and mosquitos. Being the loving mom that I am I sprayed on the bug spray, untangled the hose and set out to clean these nasty toys so that they could be brought into my home and touched by my precious children. The little police car cleaned off fast, the mid size Rescue boat…..impossible, the large ship took quite awhile, but after the hose didn’t take the slime off, I got the Clorox wipes out and fine detailed it. When I brought everything in the boys explained to me that the boat that was still outside was the most important toy that they needed. I said that they would have to share the large boat because the other one will NEVER be allowed in my house. It was then that they informed me that they did not like the other boat anymore, the one I had spent most of my time on.

I was now filthy, and wet and could not put off taking a shower as a reward for completing my daily goals.

Feeling motivated again after my shower, I got started right away. I began to get frustrated again when a couple of items looked like they had been worn. I decided to sniff a pair of my husbands underwear to see if my suspicions were warranted. Why I breathed in so deeply I do not know, but I still have the stench of BUTT in my nostrils. I guess I need to post a sign on the baskets since no one hears me telling them that the clothes in the basket are CLEAN!

I was nearly finished and thinking I just may even get to the pile in the laundry room too. I was fantasizing about how happy my hubby would feel when he came home and of spending the rest of the evening painting my toe nails or doing something just for me, when Isaac ran in declaring an emergency. The toilet was overflowing. Maybe I didn’t really believe him, maybe I was in shock, but I did not get up immediately and run to the bathroom in question. I kept telling myself that I needed to hurry, but I felt like I was moving in slow motion. When I got there, I found myself in about an inch and a half of poop water. I had to step into it in order to shut the water off. These are the kind of things I use to call out “MOM!!!!”But now I am that person. The next thing I found when looking for towels was that they were all, except three, already wet in the washer. This was going to drag on my dealings with this disgust. I would now have to come in and finish the job later. If I had to find a bright side to this part of my story it would be that tonight I get to buy all new towels.

Tuesdays are usually better. Maybe I will finish my goals tomorrow.

Today Caleb was eating little Venice Sausages from the can and Isaac commented that they look like peepees. I stoped dead in my tracks trying to think of how to handle this one. His face was so sincere. “they really do!” he said. I decided that the only thing for me to do was to turn back around and enjoy a good laugh…cause they really do.

I have told this story to a few people already, but it is one of Trav’s personal favorites. I had to take the boys to the fabric store with me a while back. That is something that I will never do again unless I know exactly what I want. It took twice as long with three boys competing for my attention. I was finally getting somewhere when they had to go potty. So, with several fabric bolts in hand and pushing the stroller all the way to the back of the store, I decide to wait right outside the door while they went in without me. I was a bit grouchy, I will admit that, so when Isaac came out so excited that he had bought me something he may have been disappointed by my reaction. After all, his voice was loud and he was waiving around a tampon that he had purchased from the vending machine inside.