Having two boys is great. It really is. The running, the biting (from the baby), the wrestling, the jumping, the bouncing, the cackling, the rowdiness! It's great.
Almost all the time. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my sons and I feel like my family is complete, even without a daughter. I cherish the blessings that God gave me.
The downside of being the "Lady Alone" is when I crave nice, girly activities and I have no one to do them with.
As most Moms witness, a Dad's idea of "wind down" time, usually includes some sort of laughing and one or more limbs flailing in the air as if somehow dis-attacthed to their body... but that also brings a "Friend's" reference to mind. The point is, boys play differently than girls. Not always, but usually.
I had two older brothers and a younger sister to give me a preview of this contrast when I was growing up. My sister and I would play dolls, dress up (not to mention a role-playing game in which we both should have won Oscars.) My brothers did a lot of running. No, not cross-country. They would chase each other, around the house. Only when they were mad at each other, so I guess, technically they weren't exactly bonding. It still managed to created life long memories for us all ( The funny kind.)
Recently, Jonathan was playing with some neighborhood kids, a girl and two boys. The boys wanted to wrestle, yell and play fight. The girl, craving a different kind of play, walked over to me and said," Boys play weird." I smiled and said, "Boys just get weirder."
It's true, isn't it? They seem to start off sweet, squishy babies and then one day, they are 15, eating chefboyardee ravioli as if it's going out of style and having burping contests.
Although, to be fair, we girls love to eat, too. Also, we can out-weird even the weirdest of boy's weird at times. I'm sure any time we cry our eyes out at greeting card commercials while eating our pint of Ben & Jerry's our guys wonder, ever so quietly, "........What just happened?"
Still, everyone likes to do things that they enjoy, whether it's rough housing or organizing your pantry.
Being the lone Lady in a home of guys does have it's highlights, though. I mean, what boy doesn't love their Mom? Also, it's fun when we leave the house to go on a family outing and I see all of my guys decided to wear camouflage shorts ( Ok, technically I still dress the baby but I never plan to match, it's all out of complete coincidence, I tell ya.)
Another fun part of being the only girl on board is walking into a bedroom full of my sleeping fellas. The wave of "boy" is a mixture of the baby's "juice and peanut butter" smell, to my near 6 year old's "dirt and cookies" smell, to my husband's Old Spice. It's pure heaven, my boy nirvana. It may be crazy sometimes, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.
I know my boys will have fun playing together and I will do my best to get right in there and get dirty with them. I want to make good memories with them, so they see me as a woman who is both delicate and determined, fun and frilly, caring and courageous, and yes, even whiny and wild. I want them to know that even though I am a girl and a Mom, I can play around and get rowdy. I just need some pampering afterward. Kidding (kinda.)
I remember something else my brothers and their friends did growing up, I shook my head at the sight but I couldn't stop myself from observing.
I don't know why I was up at such a late hour... but I was. I stumbled into the habitat of the males. There I saw it. I must ask you friends, have you ever seen a pack of boys race to see who could eat the most amount of Dannon strawberry yogurt in one minute?
Yeah, I have. And with any luck, I will see it again :)
Monday, April 16, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Remember Me?
Sorry, I have been so busy trying to remember the password to get back into my blog, that I never updated with a new post. LOL.
The past few months have been great, just living and loving with my husband and two boys.
Jonathan turns 6 next month and Matthew turned 1 in February. They are growing way too fast for me. I try to keep up, though. :)
We have two fun vacations planned this year! One to California in May and then to Kentucky in June!
Here is to fun vacations!!
I will be back with a new blog post, soon. I mean you know, one that is more meaty. In the meantime, Just a quick update on me, and yes, I'm still here. :)
The past few months have been great, just living and loving with my husband and two boys.
Jonathan turns 6 next month and Matthew turned 1 in February. They are growing way too fast for me. I try to keep up, though. :)
We have two fun vacations planned this year! One to California in May and then to Kentucky in June!
Here is to fun vacations!!
I will be back with a new blog post, soon. I mean you know, one that is more meaty. In the meantime, Just a quick update on me, and yes, I'm still here. :)
Friday, September 9, 2011
Who Should Your Son Marry?
Recently, Ok, it was actually just yesterday. I read two blog posts that created a ton of self doubt in my already worn- down- mommy- frazzled brain. The posts, while very well meaning and in no way meant to be offensive, really gave me a lot to think about.
The general idea was that homeschooling mothers should not spend the day in their pajamas, let the dishes go undone while lounging around in torn yoga pants and an old t-shirt. The idea was expressed that it was not a sought after idea that her sons marry a woman who spends her day in pj's. Wow.
That is a heavy statement. Because it hit home.
Oddly enough, when I read these posts, both one after another, I was in torn yoga pants, an old t-shirt, while dishes undone and a house full of chaos. One 5 year old jumping everywhere and one 7 month old who slept a total of 40 minutes, not all together mind you, the entire day.
Did I mention I was tired and by tired I mean, I was so tired I couldn't see straight?
Did I mention that during one of my bathroom trips I almost fell asleep on the toilet? That was after I sat there thinking, ' Maybe I can just hide in here for the rest of the day'. It's not that my children are bad. Or that I don't love to be with them, because I do.
It's just every once in a while.... I doubt myself. I get worn down. I spend a day in my pajamas. I need a break from the pressure. Those blog posts creeped into my life at that exact time.
I took a deep breath.
I made a huge ice cream sundae and split it with my 5 year old.
I got on the floor and had a crawling race with my 7 month old.
I put on a simple dress and make-up.
I still thought I might pass out at any given moment. If my 7 month old had spent more than 10 minutes at a time in his exersaucer without babbling baby jargon the entire time, then I very well may have fallen asleep for a minute or so. I did however congratulate myself when I made it to the end of the day and both boys were sweetly sleeping.
I ate dinner and my husband and I watched Little House on The Prairie.
Oh, I love this show. Where else can you find the simple joys of life so easily portrayed and fun to examine? Real life is tainted with so many distractions. It's so fun to peek into a world where life was so much more simple. When family and community were what really mattered.
I had let myself ponder the question that I had almost unwillingly been asked, in so many forms, earlier that day. " What kind of woman would I want my sons to marry?". " What kind of mother do I want for my grandkids?" A slob? Was I a slob? I'm definitely not Ma Ingalls. But nowadays, who is? She holds a standard that is hard to reach, even on our tippy toes. When it comes to the chores, anyway.
There is however, one thing that she does that I can do. I can speak kindly to my sons ( most of the time). I can teach them about God and his awesome love. I can spend any given afternoon on any given weekday with them smiling, laughing, teaching them, cooking for them, hugging them. I can do it all with love.
If I set an example for them that Moms are human. Perhaps they will be inclined to marry a humble, god fearing woman who, dare I say, spends a few days in her pajamas? After all, I kind of like the idea of going to visit my daughter-in-law on a Tuesday, in our pajama's, drinking coffee and playing old-maid.
Last night I rocked my 7 month old baby boy. Feeling his sweet little baby hand on my chest. He sleeps on me differently that he does his dad. More relaxed, more at home. Like the way you sleep in your bed versus someone else's bed. I breathed in the smell of his sweet baby hair. I held that little boy close and tight. So thankful for the beyond-words-blessing that he is to me and my family.
I kissed his head, I sang a soft little lullaby. I rocked him. I thought of the babies who cry themselves to sleep at his age because " They don't need anything." The answer began to come to me. The baby in my arms was being held and rocked because he didn't need anything, but love. Love of his mother. A love that is not matched by any other love.
The outward clothes do little for a person but dress them. They have some importance but lose significance when weighed against the power of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness.
I hope, I pray whoever my sons take to marry, they marry a woman who has a heart filled with those things. I am not saying that she should roll into Sunday services in an old t-shirt with torn yoga pants. Or even the grocery store for that matter. But in her home. Her place of rest. Let her wear those old pants. Let her be lazy every once in a while. Let her remember the time her babies were young. Her body was young, her life was young. She was loved and adored and comfortable. Even if it's only just for that one Tuesday that we sit and drink coffee and play old-maid.
The general idea was that homeschooling mothers should not spend the day in their pajamas, let the dishes go undone while lounging around in torn yoga pants and an old t-shirt. The idea was expressed that it was not a sought after idea that her sons marry a woman who spends her day in pj's. Wow.
That is a heavy statement. Because it hit home.
Oddly enough, when I read these posts, both one after another, I was in torn yoga pants, an old t-shirt, while dishes undone and a house full of chaos. One 5 year old jumping everywhere and one 7 month old who slept a total of 40 minutes, not all together mind you, the entire day.
Did I mention I was tired and by tired I mean, I was so tired I couldn't see straight?
Did I mention that during one of my bathroom trips I almost fell asleep on the toilet? That was after I sat there thinking, ' Maybe I can just hide in here for the rest of the day'. It's not that my children are bad. Or that I don't love to be with them, because I do.
It's just every once in a while.... I doubt myself. I get worn down. I spend a day in my pajamas. I need a break from the pressure. Those blog posts creeped into my life at that exact time.
I took a deep breath.
I made a huge ice cream sundae and split it with my 5 year old.
I got on the floor and had a crawling race with my 7 month old.
I put on a simple dress and make-up.
I still thought I might pass out at any given moment. If my 7 month old had spent more than 10 minutes at a time in his exersaucer without babbling baby jargon the entire time, then I very well may have fallen asleep for a minute or so. I did however congratulate myself when I made it to the end of the day and both boys were sweetly sleeping.
I ate dinner and my husband and I watched Little House on The Prairie.
Oh, I love this show. Where else can you find the simple joys of life so easily portrayed and fun to examine? Real life is tainted with so many distractions. It's so fun to peek into a world where life was so much more simple. When family and community were what really mattered.
I had let myself ponder the question that I had almost unwillingly been asked, in so many forms, earlier that day. " What kind of woman would I want my sons to marry?". " What kind of mother do I want for my grandkids?" A slob? Was I a slob? I'm definitely not Ma Ingalls. But nowadays, who is? She holds a standard that is hard to reach, even on our tippy toes. When it comes to the chores, anyway.
There is however, one thing that she does that I can do. I can speak kindly to my sons ( most of the time). I can teach them about God and his awesome love. I can spend any given afternoon on any given weekday with them smiling, laughing, teaching them, cooking for them, hugging them. I can do it all with love.
If I set an example for them that Moms are human. Perhaps they will be inclined to marry a humble, god fearing woman who, dare I say, spends a few days in her pajamas? After all, I kind of like the idea of going to visit my daughter-in-law on a Tuesday, in our pajama's, drinking coffee and playing old-maid.
Last night I rocked my 7 month old baby boy. Feeling his sweet little baby hand on my chest. He sleeps on me differently that he does his dad. More relaxed, more at home. Like the way you sleep in your bed versus someone else's bed. I breathed in the smell of his sweet baby hair. I held that little boy close and tight. So thankful for the beyond-words-blessing that he is to me and my family.
I kissed his head, I sang a soft little lullaby. I rocked him. I thought of the babies who cry themselves to sleep at his age because " They don't need anything." The answer began to come to me. The baby in my arms was being held and rocked because he didn't need anything, but love. Love of his mother. A love that is not matched by any other love.
The outward clothes do little for a person but dress them. They have some importance but lose significance when weighed against the power of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness.
I hope, I pray whoever my sons take to marry, they marry a woman who has a heart filled with those things. I am not saying that she should roll into Sunday services in an old t-shirt with torn yoga pants. Or even the grocery store for that matter. But in her home. Her place of rest. Let her wear those old pants. Let her be lazy every once in a while. Let her remember the time her babies were young. Her body was young, her life was young. She was loved and adored and comfortable. Even if it's only just for that one Tuesday that we sit and drink coffee and play old-maid.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
When I Grow Up
Self doubt. It can be crushing can't it? The feeling as if whatever you have become is less than what you could have become. It can be heartbreaking.
When we were children we were asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I almost kind of despise this phrased question. When I was young though, I welcomed it, even basked in it's allure. 'What will I be when I grow up', I would ponder. A dancer? No, takes too much training and dedication. A singer? No they have to wear too much make up and dress immodestly. An actress?! No. They have to be stick skinny. Hmm. For the rest of my childhood, I pondered and pondered and pondered.
Then, one fateful fall day, the gig was up. My childhood, was over. I turned 18. I fell in love with a man that lived thousands of miles away and I only wanted to be one thing. Married.
We got married two years later. I started working at a daycare center and I felt like I had picked my path. I had somehow turned off the ponder process and let whatever it was that I was going to be when I was grown up, just happen. Then a kid happened. I gave birth to our first son in 2006. I had baby blues, I had sleepless nights. I had a child and I was a Mommy. All of the sudden, I felt like my life is on hold.
Whatever I was supposed to be when I was grown up all of the sudden became the most ridiculous statement uttered I had ever heard. I wasn't grown! I was a just a ignorant moron stumbling through life with this..this..attachment of a person!!!! I am the one feeding his dreams of what he will be when he grows up. So now what?! Who am I?! What did I do?! How do I go back and figure out what I'm going to be when I grow up?!
Self doubt. Motherhood. They go hand in hand I am pretty sure. I cannot think of one mother I have ever met who has not in some form or fashion shared at least once experience of severe self doubt about their mothering journey with me. The funny thing is, it doesn't define us as people, I mean, it can if that's all you are. How many women do you meet, though, who are just mothers? I honestly have not met one.
Most of the women I know are mothers and....( insert something amazing).
So why is it that I am able to find my own bridge to painful and heart breaking self doubt? Why is it that, I am not sure what I will be when I grown up?
Well, for one, I'm still relatively young. I have not yet seen my 30th birthday and won't for a few years. I have a very youthful personality which some how keeps me doing very odd things that I know must make me look even younger than I am. I think though, the biggest reason I don't know yet is that, I'm already there. I'm already grown. I'm already me. I never changed. If I wanted to be anything else I would have done it and so would you. So many times it feels like I am a slave. A worker to my children and my husband and nothing more. Sometimes I see the glimpse into the fact that, I am in fact, a singer, a dancer, an actress and so, so, so much more.
Not a day goes by that I don't sing to my kids. Not a day goes by that I don't act. Not a day goes by that I don't do a little dance to cheer up my almost 6 month old. So why, why can't this just be enough? Instead of the notion to be one thing to the world, why not bask in the beauty of being the WORLD to one ( or more) people. I'm putting away the self doubt. I'm living the life I was meant to have and always wanted. I'm going to sing and dance and act like I'm not covered in spit up and peanut butter.
It really is the best thing to be...... when you grow up.
When we were children we were asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I almost kind of despise this phrased question. When I was young though, I welcomed it, even basked in it's allure. 'What will I be when I grow up', I would ponder. A dancer? No, takes too much training and dedication. A singer? No they have to wear too much make up and dress immodestly. An actress?! No. They have to be stick skinny. Hmm. For the rest of my childhood, I pondered and pondered and pondered.
Then, one fateful fall day, the gig was up. My childhood, was over. I turned 18. I fell in love with a man that lived thousands of miles away and I only wanted to be one thing. Married.
We got married two years later. I started working at a daycare center and I felt like I had picked my path. I had somehow turned off the ponder process and let whatever it was that I was going to be when I was grown up, just happen. Then a kid happened. I gave birth to our first son in 2006. I had baby blues, I had sleepless nights. I had a child and I was a Mommy. All of the sudden, I felt like my life is on hold.
Whatever I was supposed to be when I was grown up all of the sudden became the most ridiculous statement uttered I had ever heard. I wasn't grown! I was a just a ignorant moron stumbling through life with this..this..attachment of a person!!!! I am the one feeding his dreams of what he will be when he grows up. So now what?! Who am I?! What did I do?! How do I go back and figure out what I'm going to be when I grow up?!
Self doubt. Motherhood. They go hand in hand I am pretty sure. I cannot think of one mother I have ever met who has not in some form or fashion shared at least once experience of severe self doubt about their mothering journey with me. The funny thing is, it doesn't define us as people, I mean, it can if that's all you are. How many women do you meet, though, who are just mothers? I honestly have not met one.
Most of the women I know are mothers and....( insert something amazing).
So why is it that I am able to find my own bridge to painful and heart breaking self doubt? Why is it that, I am not sure what I will be when I grown up?
Well, for one, I'm still relatively young. I have not yet seen my 30th birthday and won't for a few years. I have a very youthful personality which some how keeps me doing very odd things that I know must make me look even younger than I am. I think though, the biggest reason I don't know yet is that, I'm already there. I'm already grown. I'm already me. I never changed. If I wanted to be anything else I would have done it and so would you. So many times it feels like I am a slave. A worker to my children and my husband and nothing more. Sometimes I see the glimpse into the fact that, I am in fact, a singer, a dancer, an actress and so, so, so much more.
Not a day goes by that I don't sing to my kids. Not a day goes by that I don't act. Not a day goes by that I don't do a little dance to cheer up my almost 6 month old. So why, why can't this just be enough? Instead of the notion to be one thing to the world, why not bask in the beauty of being the WORLD to one ( or more) people. I'm putting away the self doubt. I'm living the life I was meant to have and always wanted. I'm going to sing and dance and act like I'm not covered in spit up and peanut butter.
It really is the best thing to be...... when you grow up.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Different World
Ok. The real thrill here is to see if I can create a blog post before the baby wakes up from his nap. That's right, I said baby and nap. After a painful journey that you can find in my older posts, I was blessed with another sweet little baby boy. Born February 3rd, 2011. The house has been busy since!
Having two kids is a different world compared to one child. I have two sweet little faces to kiss, two sets of eyes to gaze into, two little voices giggling and sometimes yes, even crying. It is still, the world that I so much enjoy and find myself happier than I could ever imagine. I am beyond thrilled to watch both of my boys, as they grow up and into little men. Seasons will pass, years will give way to more years and my memory of the daily same ole same ole will fade but I will eternally remember the time that my world was forever changed, all by a curly headed 9lb. 8 oz, dimpled chinned baby boy.
Having two kids is a different world compared to one child. I have two sweet little faces to kiss, two sets of eyes to gaze into, two little voices giggling and sometimes yes, even crying. It is still, the world that I so much enjoy and find myself happier than I could ever imagine. I am beyond thrilled to watch both of my boys, as they grow up and into little men. Seasons will pass, years will give way to more years and my memory of the daily same ole same ole will fade but I will eternally remember the time that my world was forever changed, all by a curly headed 9lb. 8 oz, dimpled chinned baby boy.
Friday, July 23, 2010
God is GOOD!
On June 5th, I found out some fascinating news, I am pregnant, again! My heart felt so filled with joy and great thanks to God almighty!! What is even more astonishing is that I conceived right around the day of my previous post. God is so good! I am almost 12 weeks pregnant now and things are going well.
There is a song that we sing in church services sometimes, Do You Know My Jesus? There is a verse that I chokes me up to the point that I cannot sing. For it hits a chord in my heart of deepest thanks to God. -" Who knows your disappointments? Who hears each time you cry? Who understands your sorrow, who dries the tears from your eyes?"
Father God knows my disappointments. He heard each time my heart cried out for another child. He understands my sorrow and he has dried the tears from my eyes.
There is a song that we sing in church services sometimes, Do You Know My Jesus? There is a verse that I chokes me up to the point that I cannot sing. For it hits a chord in my heart of deepest thanks to God. -" Who knows your disappointments? Who hears each time you cry? Who understands your sorrow, who dries the tears from your eyes?"
Father God knows my disappointments. He heard each time my heart cried out for another child. He understands my sorrow and he has dried the tears from my eyes.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
If Dreams Were Real
I could live in them for days. If I could only take pictures of in my dreams and videos. I could print them out when I woke up and remembering the dream forever. It's not that real life is horrible. But what do you do when you dream that you have the one thing you're longing for? Worse, the thing that was in you but then for some reason was torn up and expelled.
I dreamed last night I had two kids. Two beautiful, healthy, happy kids. My heart felt light when, in my dream, I finally felt right. See, I thought my dream was reality which would mean that real life is a nightmare.
After a year and a half of trying to conceive a second child, I finally became pregnant. I was beyond words thrilled for that pregnancy. Only 4 or 5 weeks pregnant and I could already see, feel, imagine that new baby in me, on me, in our home. In my life. I felt like a bad mother because I had gained weight due to stress and depression and my weight was at a all time high. I felt guilty that my body wasn't an ideal one for growing a baby. But I did everything I could to eat better, and take care of myself.
Then it ended. My baby left me. Grew wings and went up to Heaven. At only maybe 6 weeks pregnant at the most, the physical pain of a miscarriage was like the heaviest period I'd ever felt, pain killer and it was bearable. Emotionally, the pain knocked me to my knees and brought me to scream, punch pillows and cry out for my baby that I lost.
That baby, that I saw in my dreams could have been reality.
And even though my baby grew wings early, my heart still loves another child.
The dreams help me remember that my heart has a place for two children.
I pray that God sends my baby back to me on Earth again so that I may hold, nurse and love my baby, here on Earth.
I dreamed last night I had two kids. Two beautiful, healthy, happy kids. My heart felt light when, in my dream, I finally felt right. See, I thought my dream was reality which would mean that real life is a nightmare.
After a year and a half of trying to conceive a second child, I finally became pregnant. I was beyond words thrilled for that pregnancy. Only 4 or 5 weeks pregnant and I could already see, feel, imagine that new baby in me, on me, in our home. In my life. I felt like a bad mother because I had gained weight due to stress and depression and my weight was at a all time high. I felt guilty that my body wasn't an ideal one for growing a baby. But I did everything I could to eat better, and take care of myself.
Then it ended. My baby left me. Grew wings and went up to Heaven. At only maybe 6 weeks pregnant at the most, the physical pain of a miscarriage was like the heaviest period I'd ever felt, pain killer and it was bearable. Emotionally, the pain knocked me to my knees and brought me to scream, punch pillows and cry out for my baby that I lost.
That baby, that I saw in my dreams could have been reality.
And even though my baby grew wings early, my heart still loves another child.
The dreams help me remember that my heart has a place for two children.
I pray that God sends my baby back to me on Earth again so that I may hold, nurse and love my baby, here on Earth.
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