It’s About Relationship

I took Caleb to the doctor today AGAIN. I’m not positive, but I believe I may have taken one child or the other or the other (or possibly two at the same time) to the doctor every week for four weeks. But who’s counting?

My poor boy has sported different shades of gray over the last six days, and his big, beautiful eyes haven’t carried their normal twinkle. He looked as if he hadn’t slept for days with dark shadows underneath his big saucers, and the rims of which were lined in a more bright pink.

Today his color shone brighter, but his eyes still were not right. In fact, his eyes actually looked a little bloodshot. So, given the fact that he had a 103.6 fever last night and eyes that didn’t look like they should, I decided to make another appointment. Of course, right after I made the appointment, Caleb ate three bowls of cereal and asked to run races around the house.

Well, I’m glad I kept the appointment. Apparently, Caleb does not have the flu as he was originally diagnosed on Friday. Instead, he has a flu-like virus that often ends in an ear infection, and as luck would have it, Caleb has both an ear infection AND pink eye! What kind of Satan-inspired virus starts by causing one to feel like he’s been run over by a truck and ends with pink eye?!! My poor baby!

I had asked the doctor if we were safe from this virus since none of us had caught anything yet. His answer was not reassuring–no, we could incubate the virus for six days, so we aren’t in the clear until the middle of next week. As I was sitting in the parking lot of the pediatrician’s office, a slight panic swept over me. How was I going to prevent the other four of us from getting pink eye or this horrible virus? I was barely able to stay on top of my normal chores much less attempt the hard-core, virus-killing, deep-cleaning required to kill all of these nasty germs. My other two kids were too little to battle anything like this bug, and if I got sick like Caleb, how would I handle my three kiddos? Thinking about it made me nauseas.

At that moment, I started to pray, “Dear God, please don’t let…,” and I stopped. I didn’t want to bother God with my request. There were more important, real problems in the world. And almost immediately after I stopped, I felt God prompting me, almost as if He were saying, “Finish the prayer.“

I’ve had this problem before–I don’t want to say my prayers because I’m afraid they’re selfish. While I’m asking God for patience to deal with my kids, another lady is asking God why she isn’t able to have kids. It doesn’t seem right, and, yet, God wants me to tell Him what’s on my mind.

When I talk to my mom, I tell her how I feel. I’ve told her this week how tired I feel and like I’m going a little crazy having been stuck at home since Thursday. Well, God is my heavenly Father, and He wants to know how I feel, too. The beauty of Christianity is that it’s not a religion with a distant god who will weigh our good works against our bad deeds when we die. Instead, because of the sacrifice of Jesus, we have a God who doesn’t see our bad deeds and wants to mold us to do good while we live. But we need to remain in a relationship for that to happen.

And that means I need to have a true relationship with God–I need to pray honestly. Of course I don’t want my kids to get sick! Last night, Caleb woke up hysterical, Chloe was up three times before 11:30, and Hannah Grace wandered into our room around 10:00 eating a pear. That was our night with only one confirmed sick kid! Matt and I are exhausted, and for no one else to get sick, we definitely need prayer!

There is definitely a balance that needs to be achieved. God is not a genie in a bottle here to grant my wishes, and to treat Him as such is irreverent. However, He wants to hear from me, and to withhold my honest prayers because I think they are insignificant is also irreverent. God doesn’t need me, but He wants me FOR me. I need the relationship, and any good relationship starts with communication.

So as I sat in the parking lot, I finished my prayer: “Dear God, please keep us from getting sick. I’m scared of us catching this virus or pink eye because I don’t know how I can keep the kids away from each other. Please protect them. Please protect Matt and me. I’m afraid of feeling as miserable as Caleb was and having to take care of the kids.”

As with any prayer, God may answer mine with ‘no.’ He may let nature run its course, and in two days I may be looking through the slits of my gunk-filled eyes. And if I am, I will ask God for the endurance to get through the day. I’ll never tire of hearing my children share their honest concerns and prayers, and neither will my Father tire of hearing me.

In a Funk

If you decide to read this post, beware. I don’t really have a plan for where I am going with this entry, but I needed to write. I’m feeling a little sad today, and writing always helps. Since it’s only 11:15 A.M., I want to start while I still have time to fix my mood and salvage the rest of the day!

I don’t think there is one thing in particular that is making me sad but a lot of little things piling up. For one, Caleb is sick with the flu, and in the process, I found out that I am not the compassionate person that I always thought I was. I hate seeing my son sick, but apparently I don’t deal very well with incessant whining and dramatics, either. Being stuck in the house since Thursday only leaving to take Hannah Grace to preschool and Caleb to the doctor has caused me to go a little batty. Well, being stuck in the house probably wouldn’t make me go batty that quickly, but being stuck with the incessant whining and dramatics has apparently done me in!

So…going batty has made me a little sad because I want to be sane, and not having compassion for a three-year-old who is sick makes me feel like someone should slap me (I have had compassion at times, just not the whole time). Please don’t slap me, though. I’m in a fragile state.

The battiness (and my freewill) also caused me to be mean to my husband last night, so I feel bad about that fact this morning. Maybe I can make it up to him by putting on some lip gloss. It’ll complete my outfit of a red sweatshirt, red pajama bottoms, multi-colored fuzzy socks, and crazy hair.

My sleep deprivation keeps getting worse, and I know that doesn’t help me with my mood control. My children have been conspiring again, and each of them were up during the night, but of course, at different times. Chloe woke up at 11:30 and 2 or 3 or 4–I really have no idea–screaming. She didn’t need to eat but needed comfort, so I am fearful that she may have an illness brewing…or maybe some teeth. Either way, I know my sleep will be limited over the next week.

Hannah Grace, true to form, had two full-out, kicking-her-door-in temper tantrums in the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, and as I stated previously, not at the same time when I was already awake with Chloe. She came after Chloe’s first spell but before the next.

And in one of my better moments of showing compassion, Caleb woke up requesting medicine, after bounding in our bed a few hours earlier. Maybe the heat from his fever contributed to my sweating through my shirt, soaking my sheets beneath me, causing me to change shirts in the middle of the night but not being able to change the sheets since my two boys were sound asleep in bed. I was freezing all night.

On top of the illness and sleep deprivation, I’m a little depressed at the condition of my home, for which normally I would give myself a pass given the circumstances, but our realtor is coming on Wednesday (if Caleb is better) to assess our home before we put it on the market. I can only weep inside.

Yes, these are the reasons I’m feeling a little blue, but alas, life goes on. My baby is up from her nap, a little boy wants to watch more TV (Hey, he’s sick! I’ll give in), and my girl wants a snack. A mommy has to deal and go on, right? Writing is such good therapy!

Dear God, thank you for the grace and compassion you have for me every day. I’m so thankful your supply doesn’t run out the way mine does. Can you please send me some more to deal with my children and everything that will happen today? Thank you! Amen.

Food from Heaven

As I cut the butternut squash in half length-wise, a sweet aroma tickled my nose. I marveled at the beautiful orange color that was contained within the thick, pale skin and took pleasure scooping the seeds and stringy flesh out of this fruit. I cut the squash into cubes and thought to myself, “Yes, this is what God had in mind.”

I took pride in the fact that I was cooking natural. Our vegetable dish wasn’t coming from a bag in the microwave but from the ground to my hands (with a short stop at the store in between). My senses were delighted through the process of preparing this squash, something I had never done before. My husband and I have never been big vegetable lovers but were trying to change our affections for the sake of healthy living and providing good role-models for our children.

As I tossed the cubes in a little olive oil, I thought to myself that I had never liked many vegetables because they hadn’t gone through this process. If I had seen their true colors, smelled their sweet scents, broken their crisp skin with my teeth instead of forcing myself to swallow the limp, drab vegetables that came from a can, perhaps I would have had a love affair with food from the Earth a long time ago.

I completed this new recipe with enthusiasm for the finished product–bleu cheese mashed with lemon juice, red onions and baby leaf spinach, all mixed together with the beautiful, roasted butternut squash. I knew I had a winner, and the choir would sing.

When I tasted the final product, a smile spread across my lips. The bleu cheese didn’t overpower the squash, the red onions gave the perfect combination of sweet and bite, and the spinach lay beneath every satisfying bite.

I had decided the squash would serve as the main dish with a few slices off a piece of leftover steak as the side. Magic. A healthy, satisfying dinner for my family.

I plated the food and carried the end product to my children, and immediately Caleb spoke:

“Thanks, Mom, for making me meat!”

I encouraged Caleb to try the squash to which he licked a piece. “Plaaagh. I don’t like it.”

“Well, nothing tastes great if you only lick it,” I encouraged him.

He took a bite, the smallest bite possible, only shaving 1/100th of a cube of squash with his teeth.

“I don’t like it,” he said in disgust while shaking his head.

“Hannah Grace, try your vegetables,” I ordered.

She copied her brother exactly, licking a piece of her squash. “I don’t wan it,” she insisted. “I wan ketchup.”

I sighed and got up in search of ketchup packets for the steak. The fact that my children were putting ketchup on steak almost saddened me as much as the fact as they would only lick their vegetables.

I squeezed the red globs on their plates and stared at the food I really wanted them to eat. Hannah Grace had let me down; she always tried everything. Caleb was perplexing. How did his little taste buds change so much from when he was a baby? Squash used to be one of his staples.

“Mom, this meat is delicious!” Caleb exclaimed, interrupting my thoughts.

I knew then the butternut squash would not enter his mouth again. I had given him food from heaven, but he was more excited about the dead cow on his plate.

By request–Whole Food’s Recipe for Butternut Squash with Wilted Spinach

Quality of Life 1: Calling All Tree-Huggers!

I would love to say that my family takes care of the environment, that we are friendly to Mother Earth, but I know the mess I seem to clean in the bathroom every day has to be toxic. When it comes to the dilemma of whether or not I allow my son to wash his hands on his own and risk him wasting water or doing it with him, I risk wasting water. On pizza night, I use paper plates, and every day we use a billion paper towels cleaning up messes. I know we have a long way to go in the quest to be a ‘green’ family, but we are making strides.

One such effort has been the conversion from disposable to cloth diapers. I NEVER thought I would be the mom to use cloth diapers, but here I am. A couple of years ago, I heard a radio personality say that any mother who says she cares about the environment but uses disposable diapers is a hyprocrite. He wasn’t making a plug for being green but instead trying to point out that his assistant who cares for environmental causes has no credibility because she didn’t use cloth diapers. I thought he was a jerk, came up with a thousand reasons for why every mother should use disposable diapers, and drove on my merry way.

But the seed was planted.

A few months after my first daughter was born, I thought to myself that I wanted to research this cloth diaper thing. I felt convicted that as a Christian I wasn’t doing more for the environment. I made it on the internet one day and was surprised at the world of cloth diapers. No pins, nothing too strange–even someone like me could do this! But I didn’t. Cloth-diapering requires an initial investment that we couldn’t make at the time, and life was too busy with a bouncing boy not quite two and a baby just a few months old to take on something new. The thought never left me, though.

When I was pregnant with Chloe, I told my husband we were going to do it–no more excuses! I don’t think Matt was too keen on the idea at first, but I went for it, anyway. I did some research and decided to use bumGenius 3.0, a one-size diaper. The product received a lot of great reviews, and they are so cute! Look at these beautiful colors!

My sister went in 50/50 with me as her baby shower gift to get me started with 12 diapers, and I am forever grateful to her for her contribution. While the initial investment was tough up front, we are saving a ton of money. Any parent knows how quickly a little one goes through diapers, and I am so thankful that diapers aren’t a part of our budget, anymore.

I have to admit, I was very nervous about the increase in laundry considering I never seem to have enough time as it is. Yes, I was having a difficult time at first but because I did not have enough diapers. The plan was to purchase the initial 12 with my sister and then get some more a few months later. Well, we had some unforeseen circumstances arise, and we never made that additional purchase. If you are considering using cloth diapers, I would recommend buying at least 16.

However, the actual washing of the diapers and keeping them clean is a piece of cake. I keep my diaper basket right in the laundry room, so when it’s full, I dump the diapers in the washer. I don’t have to sort or run upstairs, so washing the diapers is the easiest part of my laundry duty!

My husband and I decided I could get more diapers this month, and as luck would have it, my friend invited me to a diaper consultation at her home. Mommy Secrets came to her home and gave fabulous tips on entering the world of cloth diapers and babywearing. I purchased four more medium-sized diapers that they carried from the brand Happy Heiny’s. The brand uses the word ‘heiny,’ so I was sold.

I never would have thought that I could love cloth-diapering Chloe, but I do. The diapers are so soft to her skin, she rarely gets diaper rash, and when she has a diaper explosion (the only way I know to describe it!), she never leaks up out of the diaper because of the snug elastic. No more ruined baby outfits!!! And of course, I’m helping the environment.

I wrote this blog post not as a way of endorsing any product but to help other moms out there who might not know anything about cloth diapers. When I was pregnant with my first two kids, I didn’t have the knowledge I needed and figured this was one area of my life where I didn’t care about being green. However, if I could do over my first three years of being a mom, I would have bought cloth diapers when I was pregnant with Caleb. I would encourage any expectant mother, mom who currently has a kid in diapers and might have another baby, or even a mom who has at least another year of a kid in diapers to consider cloth.

What are you doing to help the environment that other women could do? Let’s all share our tips in the comment section and improve our quality of life!

About Quality of Life

A Little Drizzle

Note to myself: You actually wrote a good deal of this post last week but were interrupted many times from the kids and life. Tonight is the first chance you had to finish. Therefore, the ‘two Sundays ago’ and ‘yesterday’ and all time references aren’t accurate, anymore. Oh, well. You weren’t about to do the math to figure out the correct time, and your writing would’ve sounded weird, anyway. But for the sake of your memory, which isn’t very good, I thought I’d let you know about the inaccuracies.

Two Sundays ago, I remember lying in bed somewhat fearful. I’m not normally one to get afraid of thunderstorms, but when I saw the lightning strike right below my window and heard the electricity crackle in our outlets, I tensed up. Caleb had already joined Matt and me in bed and formed a ball beneath our comforter. I couldn’t see any part of him but would feel him move closer and closer against Matt and me with each pound of thunder that rattled the house. Even the rain was loud, as the storm seemed to intensify with every minute.

At one point in the night, Matt had gotten up to unplug everything in our room, but he was too late. The next morning, our upstairs air conditioner was broken, and our modem was fried, so I couldn’t use the internet or our house phone. I felt very inconvenienced and disconnected from the world. I typically don’t ever have the TV on during the day, and I normally put the radio on in the car when carting kids back and forth to preschool. Monday is their off day, though, so for most of the day, I was in my own bubble.

I had no idea what the storm was really like–only my perception of the events. It wasn’t until I spoke with my mom and learned of flooded roads that kept some of her co-workers from getting to work, heard from my husband that Gwinnett county had closed school, and saw pictures the next day of the Scream Machine roller coaster partially submerged in water that I began to understand the true intensity of this horrific thunderstorm.

Then the following day I read an article of a woman’s frantic call to 911 as she was trapped in her car less than a mile from her home. She was a mother. I saw another article of a toddler swept by the rushing water from his father’s grasp, a story that would stay with me as I imagined myself trapped in my van with my three children. Even if I were able to get my windows down in time and the door open, I can’t imagine a happy ending to this story…and my stomach is still in knots as I count my three blessings and think of that poor family grieving their loss, a family who didn’t have to imagine .

It’s amazing how one’s perspective can color an event. The storm that I found so terrible and frightening and inconvenient paled in comparison to what those around me were experiencing. Until I saw the damage elsewhere, I didn’t realize how blessed I was to be without air conditioning and a cable modem. As I moved through that week, the lessons God was teaching me were very apparent.

When Caleb was frightened the night of the storm, he didn’t cry in his room, he didn’t go downstairs and find comfort in a doughnut, and he didn’t turn on the TV. He came in his parents room and snuggled with his mom and dad. Yes, he was obviously frightened, but with each strike of lightening and clap of thunder, he moved a little closer to Matt or me. He found reassurance simply in our presence.

God wants me to do the same. Whether I am frightened by a little thunder or I can see the flood waters rising, my response should be the same–draw closer to Him. In doing so, He will give me peace and perspective. In the midst of my storm, I will be able to find that for which I should be thankful because there is always someone going through something worse, and at the same time, find reassurance that the Lord cares about my struggles, too. He just wants me to be honest about my struggles with Him.

And as with any lesson the Lord teaches me, He provided a pop-quiz to see what I actually retained….

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Yesterday morning, I managed to get my daughter’s tiny hair claw stuck on my tongue. I was rushing to get Caleb and Hannah Grace ready for preschool while trying to take care of Chloe, and I actually had a green clip hanging out of my mouth.

“Ha-uh, HOL SIL PEAS!” is not what I heard in my head but was what came out of my mouth, as I was trying to keep her from running out of the bathroom. I still needed to fix her hair (one side of her head already had a clip), so I was squeezing her with my thighs while trying to squeeze the little clip to release it from my tongue. It was so small, though, and slippery because of my saliva. I had never felt so ridiculous and knew my tongue would begin bleeding at any moment. The more I tried to pry it open, the tighter that stupid clip clamped down on my tongue.

Briefly, very briefly, I contemplated asking Caleb to help me, but he would’ve just pulled on the clip with my tongue attached. I hate to admit it, but I was a little scared. I was afraid that if I actually succeeded in removing this *cute* hair accessory, I might have a permanent hole in my tongue. Would pizza ever taste good again?

No sooner than I successfully transferred this demonic hair claw from my mouth to Hannah Grace’s hair, I noticed Chloe’s crying had risen to the next intensity level. She was across the hall playing in Hannah Grace’s room. I ran into the room to check on her and noticed she was on her stomach with her head under Hannah Grace’s dresser. I figured she didn’t know how to roll back out from under the dresser, so I proceeded to help pull her out, except she wasn’t budging. My baby had gotten her head stuck under her sister’s massive dresser.

I tried to lift the dresser, and it didn’t budge. I think my heart stopped for a second at that moment. What in the world was I going to do? I didn’t even know how long Chloe’s head had been stuck under the dresser, and I was terrified that her skull would get crushed. And then God gave me the Mom Adrenaline. I lifted that dresser and was so proud–until I noticed that Chloe was crying too hard to notice and wasn’t rolling away as a cooperative baby should’ve. Caleb and Hannah Grace were just looking on, probably paralyzed in fear as their mother was in a state of panic.

At this moment I was dumbfounded. Caleb, my son who has rolled his sister across the floor like a log was just standing there. “CALEB! ROLL CHLOE OUT!!” I screamed, to which he obliged.

And all was well again.

My heart proceeded to pound out of my chest for the rest of the day, and I was never so ready for bed that night. Unfortunately, Hannah Grace stayed up until midnight, refusing to sleep in her bed, and Chloe woke up at 1:30 ready to eat. And again every two hours until morning.

So, I have decided that today I am getting under the covers, curling up into a ball, and resting in my heavenly Father’s arms. It’s starting to rain outside, and I need a nap.

Forget the Baby Book

I make a lot of good intentions. One can witness this fact by the three baby books I bought for each child. I don’t always follow through on these intentions. One can also witness this fact when noticing Caleb’s baby book stops after one year, Hannah Grace’s is blank except for her birth announcement, and Chloe’s doesn’t even have a birth announcement.

Over Caleb’s three-and-a-half years, he has said some of the most amazing sentences to leave a baby’s mouth, and he gets funnier and funnier. Unfortunately, I’ve probably forgotten half of these anecdotes, but no more! Starting today, I WILL record the precious gems that leave all of my kids’ mouths!

Now, yes, I could record them in their cute baby books so they wouldn’t look so pathetic, but I’d probably become overwhelmed with guilt that I didn’t fill out the page asking for the price of bread on their birth dates. I’d spend the whole afternoon Google searching for this bit of trivia that I wouldn’t record the more interesting parts of the baby books–the parts about them.

So. While I don’t write in my blog as often as I’d like, I do write at least once a week, if not more. And while I don’t have much of a memory at this point, I have just enough brain cells left to remember one or two cute ramblings from the mouths of my babes, so below is where I will keep record. This blog will be on-going, and I will add their newest to the top of list. Enjoy!

Hannah Grace: (After I told her that her hair is beautiful) “No, it’s not; no, it’s not. My hair is AWESOME!” 5/10/2010

Hannah Grace: (from completely out of the blue) “Mom, we don’t say ‘tootie-butt.’ (Thank you for the reminder!)–1/6/2010

Caleb: “Mom, batteries don’t die! People die. Batteries stop working!” (I stand corrected)–Jan 2010

Hannah: (Caleb was antagonizing Hannah Grace, and he apologized by saying ‘I’m sorry, Hannah Potato’ and later ‘I’m sorry, Hannah Banana.’) “No, Caleb. That’s not right. You say, ‘I’m sorry, Hannah.”‘–1/5/2010

Caleb: “Hannah, I’ve sung the song for you three times, and every time I sing it makes me tired. I’m not going to sing it anymore!” (Hannah Grace loves “Single Ladies” by Beyonce, but we couldn’t get it to play on my phone. She would start to whine, so Caleb would sing the song for her with amazing accuracy)–1/2/2010

Hannah Grace: “Caleb, patience. Not now!” (In response to Caleb’s repeated request to watch his movie in the car even though he was told Hannah Grace got to listen to her song first.)–1/2/2010

Caleb: (We were walking outside of Barnes and Noble at the mall. Music was playing.) “Where is that music coming from? Me: “I’m not sure. I think there are some speakers outside the store somewhere.” Matt: “Why? Is the music bothering you?” Caleb: “Yes, it’s bothering me! It makes me want to die!”–12/19/09

Hannah Grace: “And God said, ‘Don’t eat the vegetables!” (referring to the Bible story of Adam and Eve where God says not to eat the fruit of the tree)–11/11/09

Caleb: “And then Jesus rubbed blood on the blind man’s eyes, and he could see again!” (the Scripture states that Jesus made mud and rubbed it on the blind man’s eyes)–11/11/09

Hannah Grace: “Where’d you put the gummies?” (she pointed her finger and asked Matt this question immediately as he walked into the house from work. I told her earlier in the day that I didn’t know where the gummies were; perhaps, her dad did)–11/11/09

Hannah Grace: “Daddy, you’re my boy.” –11/9/09 ( I think)

Caleb: (after I was explaining to Hannah Grace and him that they cannot play with my china–it’s Mommy’s special plates from when she got married) “I’m going to marry Hannah, and I’m going to give her special dishes. And on her birthday, I’m going to give her very, very, nice clothes.”–11/1/09

Hannah Grace: “Daddy’s my favorite friend”–9/29/09

Caleb: “Mommy, we can find a nice family and give them our dog.” Mommy: “What?! Why do you want to give away Scout?” Caleb: “I want a cat.”– 9/29/09

(Hannah Grace brought home from preschool blue-colored water in a bottle as part of the classes’ study of the color blue) Caleb: “Hannah, how did you get that blue in there? Did you squeeze a lemon?” –9/29/09

(in a bathroom stall at church, loudly so that the woman in the stall next to us could hear) Hannah Grace: “Can I see your penis?” Mommy: “No, because I’m a girl.”– 9/27/09

(in the bathroom at home) Hannah Grace: “Are you going to wipe my penis?” Mommy: “No, you don’t have a penis.” Caleb: “You don’t have a penis, Hannah! You have a hole.”– 9/26/09

Hannah Grace: (talking to Chloe) “Hello, sweetheart.” (To me) “Hers my darling. Hers my baby”–9/22/09

Hannah Grace : (referring to Chloe) “Hers not your baby. She’s Daddy’s” –9/18/09

Caleb: (Ready to go downstairs one morning, he yelled these sentences waiting for Matt to open the baby gate) “Come on, Dad! Let’s go! You’ve got work to do! You need to make money!”– 9/18/09

Mommy: “Eat your chicken, Caleb.” Caleb: “Chi-ken? Bock-bock?”–somewhere around a year old, a memory we don’t want to forget!

The Morning I Knew My Husband Really Loves Me

I previously had the idea that my children conspire to make certain nights hellish for my husband and me. I don’t think that they have a hushed meeting behind a closed closet door huddled around a flashlight while articulating their plan–that’s silly–our flashlight needs new batteries, and the baby can’t sit up. I am leaning toward the idea that their brains telepathically communicate that they should get up in the middle of the night. And often. And staggered.

It’s 12 A.M., and I decide that, perhaps, Chloe isn’t going to wake up soon to eat, so I should go ahead and get in a couple hours of sleep. At 12:15, I hear her little cry. I grab my glasses off my nightstand, amazed at how quickly I went from awake to asleep and now very groggy. I take my time swinging my feet over the side of the bed and listen as Matt gets up to change the baby. I go to meet him in her room; I’ll nurse her in the rocking chair. Instead, I meet Matt in the doorway.

“She just wanted her binky. She’s back asleep.”

I climb back in our bed that’s much too tall for me (although, I love it) and begin to snuggle under my sheet and next to Matt. The little cry returns.

“Uggh,” or some other kind of grunt leaves my mouth. I look over at Matt who decided he had already completed his duty and continue getting back down from our bed. I go into Chloe’s room and smile at this sweet baby who is looking up at me with the sleepiest little face. I pick her up and change her and then move us into the rocking chair. As she nurses, I relax into the chair, allowing my head to fall to the side and my body to melt into the cushions as much as possible while nursing in an upright position. When I don’t notice any more sucking, I gently pick up Chloe and lay her back down in her crib, positioning her binky back in her tiny mouth.

As I walk into my room, I look forward to the ascent into my bed, as Chloe should now have her long stretch of sleep. Maybe, tonight she’ll sleep eight hours straight as she did a few weeks ago. I take off my glasses and lay them on the nightstand and begin to drop next to Matt on my pillow when I hear footsteps scurrying down the hallway. Footsteps carry emotions with them, and these footsteps are carrying a scared little boy.

Caleb frantically bounds into our bed, and I try to suppress another “uggh” knowing that my little boy is scared.

“Come on, Caleb. I’ll lie down with you in your bed. Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

I finally convince him that I’ll really follow if he gets out of my bed, and we jump down. We make a quick pit-stop to the potty, and then crawl into his little twin bed. I will myself not to fall asleep so as to be able to move my neck in the morning. When I am assured that Caleb is calm and sleeping, I trek back down the hallway and into my room.

I glance at the clock on Matt’s nightstand which now reads a little past 1 A.M. and muster up the strength to climb what now looks like Mt. Everest. It’s less than six hours before the alarm is supposed to wake me, but I welcome any sleep and snuggle next to Matt.

Chloe must read my thought and takes it literally because she awakes at 3:30 to which I announce, “I am not feeding her.” Matt quiets her but eventually brings her in our bed at 4:30 when she yells that she’s not kidding. I try to nurse her while lying down, even though I’m fairly certain that she’s not hungry. I don’t care; I just want to sleep, and if nursing Chloe will achieve that goal, so be it.

Unfortunately, Chloe doesn’t want to eat and squirms and cries.

“Maybe she’s uncomfortable. Let me get a diaper; you watch her,” I order Matt as I hop off the bed. I zig-zag down the hallway as a drunken woman looking for a drink, except I don’t need any help passing out. I have to descend our stairs to get a cloth diaper out of the dryer ( I really need to buy more of those things) and back up again. I change Chloe only to produce the same result–a squirmy, crying baby.

Back off the tallest bed in the world with Chloe in tow and onto her rocking chair. As I hold her close and softly sing, I feel her break wind against my hand and know the cause of her discomfort. We gently rock until she is finally soothed, and I lay her down in her crib.

It’s almost 5 A.M., and I wonder if it’s even worth climbing into bed but try once again. This time I don’t attempt any closeness with Matt, nor him with me. We are both curled into our own little cocoons of quiet, and I let sleep envelop me.

When Matt’s alarm goes off at 5:30 A.M, I am amazed that he actually gets out of bed. Guessing our talk about guarding our family time has hit home with him, I roll back over knowing Matt will be off to the gym soon. I hear the shower but am too tired to process what that sound means.

About 15 minutes later, I hear footsteps running down the hallway. This time, they carry the emotion of happiness with them, and a little boy bounds into my bed.

“Put Curious George on!” Caleb exclaims excitedly.

“Caleb, lay down and go to sleep. It’s not even 6:00!” I grunt, but Caleb is wide awake. When I beg him again in a tone that is much harsher than I intend, he plops off the bed and in a pile on the floor. I quickly apologize and plead with him to lie down next to me in bed. We can snuggle.

Caleb complies, but all of these dramatics have roused me. I know I will not sleep any more this morning.

When Matt finally comes out of the bathroom dressed, I ask him, “What are you doing? I mean, why are you up so early if you’re not going to the gym.”

“I wanted to get in early in case I have to leave to help you out.”

As I push through the fog of thoughts in my mind–Does he think I might fall asleep and need someone to watch the kids? Is he afraid I’m going to hurt the kids?!–I understand his statement.

“My doctor’s appointment is tomorrow, Matt.”

I very well may have told Matt that I was looking for someone to watch the kids today, Thursday, instead of Friday. I don’t know. What I do know is the look of utter dejection on my husband’s face when he realized he had woken up at 5:30 A.M. on no sleep for nothing. And in that moment, I knew he must love me more than anything.

For weeks, months, years, Matt has tried to wake up early in order to get to the gym before work instead of after. His pattern of hitting the snooze button for two hours straight has become a sore spot in our marriage. He cannot seem to wake up early for anything, yet he did it, on maybe two hours of solid sleep, for me.

As tired as I am, I stare at him from amidst the covers and pillows and feel a warmth inside I hadn’t quite felt in such a way before. We kiss, say our “I love you’s,” and Matt heads down the hallway only to return a moment later with another child.

“She’s awake, too?” I question incredulously as Matt puts Hannah Grace in bed with me.

“Yes. She was just standing at the baby gate staring.”

I can only smile and officially get up to get the kids ready for preschool. I have the fleeting thought that they will nap well today, but I know better than to believe such an idea.

I’ve never been a coffee-drinker, but I think today might be a good day to start.

Dear Children…

My Dear Caleb and Hannah Grace,

I am in need of therapy, or possibly you are in need of therapy, but either way, we cannot afford a good therapist right now. Therefore, as you are not taking your naps as I’d asked, even after telling you a good surprise awaits, while HG has smeared diaper cream all over her bottom and legs, while C has broken the second picture frame in two days, while you both somehow have gotten HG’s curtain rod and, subsequently, curtains off the wall, I have come downstairs to quickly write out my feelings.

I do not want to yell at you. I love you both, and when you come home from preschool, I want us to have happy times. I want to hear what you have learned. I do not want to reprimand you for screaming, refusing to get in your car seat, being mean to each other, etc. And I especially don’t want to get frustrated during the time that is supposed to be my time (even though my time really just means the ability to scrub the kitchen floor without interruption). I no longer want to feel frustrated, so I won’t.

Okay, I hear you calling that you need to go to the potty, and I do feel better. Amazing, isn’t it? I’m now going to go upstairs, we’ll clean up together, and we’ll try to salvage the rest of our day.

Love,

Mommy

I Didn’t Know…

Even after having three children within three years, I am finding out that there is a lot about my children and myself that I didn’t know. Leading up to the birth of Chloe a few days ago, I tried to prepare myself mentally for how the addition of a third child would affect Caleb and Hannah Grace. I prayed for them at night, for God to help them through this transition–that there would be little jealousy, and that love would abound. I had my own suspicions of how each child would react, but apparently I just didn’t know…

…that the potty training regression I knew Hannah Grace would experience would occur instantaneously, that she would give up potty training the exact moment we left for the hospital! My sister and brother-in-law came to our home to watch the kids, and from that moment on, Hannah Grace decided all she needed was a diaper. Sure, I knew that she would regress when she saw Mommy changing the new baby’s diaper, but my goodness! She hadn’t even met the baby, yet, and she had decided that she was done, finished, never to sit on a little potty again! Now some may question how well she was doing before the baby was born, especially considering her young age. Let’s just say that the three days prior to her having a new sister, she may have had a total of one accident. She told the ladies in the toddler room at church that past Sunday that she needed to go pee pee; now when I ask her if she needs to go, she replies, “Nope. Hannah no pee pee in potty. Hannah pee pee in diaper!”

Okay, so I didn’t get it quite right with regards to Hannah Grace, but I was even further off with Caleb. I just didn’t know…

…that he would give up sleeping after the baby was born. Why would the birth of a baby cause a three-year old to think it is okay to stay up until one a.m.! I knew I would lack sleep for having to feed my new baby in the middle of the night; I did not know that I would not get to go to sleep at all because Caleb thought Late Night with Jimmy Fallon was a show not to be missed! I had not prepared mentally for this possibility, so on Chloe’s third day at her new home, Caleb had his first official day with “rest time” instead of “nap time.” We’ll see how tonight goes.

Apparently, I didn’t know my kids as well as I thought I did, but I still have a lot to learn about myself, too. I just didn’t know…

…the capacity for love that I have. If I am honest with myself, I was a little nervous about having a third baby, even though Matt and I wanted another child. ”We have a nice family now; will she upset the happy balance that we have?” ”How will I love her as much as I love Caleb and Hannah Grace? I don’t know if I’ll have enough love to give everyone.” I should have know better because these same thoughts invaded my mind when I was pregnant with Hannah Grace, and after holding her in my arms, the thoughts left. When I first saw Chloe and touched her as the midwife placed her on top of my belly, I fell in love again. Each time she snuggles in against my body or makes one of her little baby sounds while stretching, I know she was meant to be a part of this family, and my heart overflows with emotion. I can only thank God for the grace and love He has given me that I can then share with my children. He has blessed me with a beautiful family, and while there will always be much that I don’t know, there are no other people in this world from which I would rather learn.