Printheth (Princess) and Glath Thlippers (Glass Slippers)

Song Suggestion:  Cinderella by Steven Curtis Chapman

  I am sitting in my three seasons room, the track lights are dimmed, I have my lab top on my lap and a chunk of spinach artichoke cheese that I am nibbling on in hand.   Kendall is to my right.. sippy cup with milk in her left hand and a rolled up piece of honey ham with cheddar cheese inside, clutched in her right hand. She has her pink fuzzy (her blanket) wrapped around her, head to toe.. the pink tassels that trim her blanket fall around her face, and when I look at her I cannot help but smile.  I never realized how entertaining it was to watch her smash that ham and cheese into her mouth.  When she noticed that I was watching her she started giggling.  This huge smile, it makes her nose wrinkle and her dimples show, then she throws back her head and lets out this massive chuckle.  I cannot help but laugh with her.  It's contagious, she is contagious.

  Kendall was a fantastic baby.  She was just very content.  One of my most vivid memories of her as a baby was when she was only three weeks old.  She had woken up for a midnight feeding and there I sat with her all bundled up watching her suck down that bottle.  I dozed off with her in my arms and as my arms relaxed and released her just a bit, I startled awake.  My heart pounding, I could have dropped my baby.   I looked down at her to see if she was sleeping or if my reaction had woken her up and there she lay in my lap.  Wide awake, which was fine, but what scared the living hell out of me was that she was staring at me and she was smiling so big that I could see her gums. I am sorry, but there is nothing normal about a three week old wide eyed and bushy tailed baby smiling at you for more the a few seconds.  It's scary.. it was actually terrifying to me.  It was not gas, because as I set her down in the middle of the living room and left her lay there on the floor and backed up out of the room, she continued to lay there and watch me and smile at me.  I thought she was possessed.  I mean seriously, what does a freekin three week old have to smile about!?   I waited for her to stop smiling then walked back into the living room and I put her in her crib.. and went to bed.  I was so freaked out.  

    The first time Kendall and I had our first little disagreement was when  she was a one and a half year old.  She would not take a nap and I was beyond frustrated.  I remember standing over her yelling at her to get back in her room and go to bed... blah blah blah..  and she clenched her fists.. and just started yelling back..  but the thing is she couldn't talk yet, like I said she was only one and a half.  But she formed this babbling language for that moment and let me have it. I was speechless.  It was a fantastic slap in the face.  I knew I sounded exactly the same to her as she sounded to me.  This is when I scooped her up and loved her and cuddled her.  She went to bed after that.  No argument.  Kendall has always been able to get her point across. Whether she's been three weeks old or three years old.  She's a bundle of emotion. 

   Kendall is eccentric, she is expressive.  She has this wild sense of style that I absolutely love. She calls all her shoes, "glath thlipperthz" (glass slippers) and she loves her new fairy costume. She loves make up and cinderella, and dancing.  Kendall changes her shirt at LEAST six times a day and each time she does, she comes to me and does a twirl, nearly landing on her bottom.   Kendall only wears pants that are "the pink" and she loves any type of chocolate there is out there.  She calls herself "printheth"(princess) and refuses to have her hair brushed with out a fight. 

   I celebrate Kendall tonight.  For the her freedom of dress... her freedom of opinion,  for her free little spirit.  I celebrate her brother for putting up with her.  I am in awe of these tiny people I call my children and I celebrate the One who gave them to me.  

    

   

   

 

  

  

What would you rather be?

Song Suggestion:  Batman Soundtrack 

  I am busy in the kitchen making dinner.  I have pots and pans piled high in the sink, there are three different dishes cooking at once and they all must be tended to, so as not not fry the living crap out of them, when my son Cole walks in the kitchen.  He leans himself against the counter on the opposite side of wear I am standing.  

  "Mom, what would you rather be, a seagull or a penguin?"  he asks.

  I know the answer right away..  "Duh, a seagull."  

  "Why?"  He asks.

  "Have you seen that documentary on a penguins life?!!"    "Good lord I would rather be a turd."   I answer

  No offense to this magnificent bird,  but man! Have you seen what they have to do to procreate?  NO THANK YOU.  I love my children.. but geesh I am not sure I would do what those creatures have to do just to have offspring.  If you haven't seen March of the Penguins.  Go out and get it.. you will understand.

   Anyway Cole laughs.. and then asks me..   "So then.. which would you rather be a turd sandwich or a snotty Kleenex?"  

"Hmm that's a tough one..."  I pretend to ponder on this for awhile, then answer,  "Most definitely a turd sandwich."

  This is when he gets hysterical.   "WHAT, WHY?!"  he asks.

"I can handle turds.. but snotty boogers make me gag."  I reply.

 Now I turn the tables on him to get away from the turds and boogers talk... "What would you rather be, Superman or Batman?"

  "Superman hands down!"  He says.  "Superman has powers.. Batman doesn't he is just a really, really strong dude who wears a mask and armor."  

 

  "Yea, but in the movies it always seems like Batman gets all the pretty ladies."  I tell Cole.

He pauses for a second, then this mischievous little grin spreads across his face.. the one I saw when he was a baby and knew he was going to be trouble.  The one I see now.. and know he's gonna be trouble.

 

 "Did I say Superman??  I meant Batman."  he says.      Then he gives me a high-five.

 

Find Peace

Song Suggestion:  Cry out to Jesus by Third Day

I found myself sitting in Trinity Church this week Thursday. It was 7:00 p.m. an unusual time for a funeral. Funerals that I've been to, not that there are many I've been to thankfully, have been during the day. So this one was a little different.

As I sat in the sanctuary before the service began I noticed the Christmas decorations. It took me back to almost 7 years ago.. Dec 8. Our wedding. The church is decorated, greens are hung in the stain glass windows just like every year.. the wreath is prominently displayed and the 10 foot Christmas tree is looking lovely. It is beautiful.. I remembered why I had my wedding in December, because I love Christmas so much. I love the memories of Christmas.

Then I zone back in to the present. The hear. The now. The raw and the gritty. I felt guilty being there in the presence of such pain.. and not feeling the same sadness that almost everyone who knew him was feeling.

I glanced around the room. My eyes kept getting caught on this particular couple that was sitting a few rows in front of me. As they watched the slide show of this young man.. she would smile and look over at her husband and try to find humor in some of the silly pictures that were left for us to enjoy of him. She was uncomfortable. He would return the smile.. then her attention would turn back to the slide show. His jaw line would shake. He tried to close his hand over his mouth to wipe the emotion away, only to find himself wiping the tears that would drip over his hands away. I am not sure if she even noticed. I watched as he struggled and at one point his hands were even shaking. I assumed it was a close friend.

I sat there, with my best friend, and said a silent prayer for her. Thanking God that she was right there next to me, and I still had her. That she was living and breathing beside me. I said a silent vow to myself that if she dies before me.. I will stand up in front of a million people if I have to, in honor of her, so that I could tell everyone that she was an amazing woman. Funerals make you think about this kind of stuff.

After the funeral my friend and I got to talk with this young man's sister... one of the three he had. We graduated with her. I hugged her. The embrace. The... 'thank you for coming, I am putting on this.. 'I am strong and OK face'... now please go away, embrace'. It was familiar. Even two years after my Dad has been gone. Then I glanced over at her mom. The Mother who just lost her 24 year old son, her only son and I stared. I watched the stream of people who stood there uncomfortably. Waiting to give their condolences to her.

I watched her as she took deep breaths, and smiled bravely.. she even managed to laugh with a few people. I watched her as they walked away.. and the tears just kept coming. I am sure she probably wanted to get out of there. To go somewhere alone and away, so that she can cry. For what is gone. For what is not coming back. To grieve without onlookers.

It took me to a moment that I have shoved far back in my memory, of the morning my dad died. I walked down stairs in the basement to find my Mom leaning over the washing machine, sobbing. I stood very still in the doorway and watched her for a moment.. she was hunched over my Dad's flannel pajamas, folding them one last time. When she realized I was there she was startled.

"I never realized how much I would miss him." she said still sobbing.

I hugged her. She smiled, attempting to keep the emotions at bay. I never said anything. There are no words of wisdom to give a grieving widow who just lost her husband. I gave her a kleenex and we walked upstairs to the crowd of family and friends and we simultaneously hovered about in a semi-coherent state. Funerals bring back vivid memories.

I question God's timing in things. I question why a 24 year old man, who has the rest of his life ahead of him had to die. I know it's never a good time to lose someone. But I still question. Why now? Before the holidays.. why this season has to be marked with such sadness for some. I don't understand it. But there is this underlying faith that has enveloped me. A peace that has told me it's not up to me. It's up to Him. That God has it under control. That it's not up to me to dissect life's traumas and figure out why.

I am going to choose to appreciate Christmas and the memories. I am appreciating what I still have.. what can be taken away from me tonight, tomorrow.. in a month or a year from now. I am trusting in Jeremiah 29:11.. that God has a plan for us to prosper.. No matter what life throws at us. Today I will allow a few moments to myself to feel. To feel sad and angry. But I will not waist anymore time on this, then those few moments.

What goes up.. must come down.

Song Suggestion:  Clumsy by Fergie

  I love the feeling I have when I am all put together.  I had a great day this last week.  It was Tuesday.  I got all the laundry done, put the clean dishes away and loaded the full sink of dirty ones into the dishwasher.  I vacuumed.. I even had the chance to sift the poop out Suzie's litter box.  I was on top of my game.  It was magical.   I must have had a second wind because after all of that, I even got myself and Kendall ready with time to spare.  

  Right before we ran out the door.. Kendall to destination- Oma's (Grandma Peg) and I to the Hair Clinic, we both stood in front of the mirror to admire ourselves.

 

 "I look like I princthes mama."  lisped Kendall.

 "I look like a hot mama."  I said, smiling at Kendall

  We gave each other knuckles.. (a fist to fist agreement that we both look goood.)  And we strutted out the door.  Our heads barely fit.  

  I went to work, feeling great.  When you feel great, you do good work.  When you do good work you feel great.  It's a fantastic cycle.  Some of my favorite clients came in to see me, and they all left blowing me kisses and telling me how good I am at my job (YES.. before you throw up in your mouth, I am exaggerating) but it was a good night and I was on my game. I was loving life strong.   

   I was still a little flighty from my fantastic day when I got home.  I raided the kitchen before I went downstairs to see Justin.  I had a little bit of everything.  Pasta, granola bar, hot dog etc.  I hadn't had the chance to eat dinner and I was famished!  

  I got to the top of the stairs, ready for my decent to the basement.. thought about taking off my pumps.. but changed my mind because they sort of finished off the outfit, and call me totally vain..  but I wanted to look hot for Justin.  As I took that first step, my heel caught the top stair.  Everything went in slow motion from there.

    I distinctly remember thinking to myself...  "NOOOOOOO... SHIT....... NOOOOO."   Then I tried grabbing something, anything to catch myself.. there was nothing.   Let me remind you I had a fully loaded plate in my right hand.   I went down, head first. My plate clutched in my hand.  After about three somersaults and a head slam to the side of the wall in mid-fall, I landed upside down at the bottom of the stairs.   Pasta was strewn about.  My hot dog was smashed into one of the stairs.. ketchup and mustard was everywhere,  and I have no clue where my granola bar went.  ME? Well I looked like I had been tarred and feathered so to speak.  

   I knew Justin heard it all, I knew he saw it all.  I remember being so embarrassed.  I didn't know if I should cry, or laugh.  I was still in shock so nothing started hurting yet.  But I didn't move a muscle.  I just laid on the ground and literally soaked it all in.   Then I hear Justin, who is sitting on the couch say,

"Seriously?"  

  That is when I started laughing,  sort of.  It was kind of a half cry, half laugh. 

"You fell from the top didn't you?"  he said.

  I continued to laugh/cry and pull pasta off my face.  Still laying on the ground, half afraid to move. 

"I am so glad you aren't dead, because we both know EVERYONE would think I pushed you." he said laughing.

  This is when I got hysterical and Justin runs over to me and sits on the floor beside me.  We are both looking at the stairs now and I don't think either of us were able to breath because we were laughing so hard.   

"Just TAKE OFF THE HEELS babe, seriously."  he said picking a noodle out of my hair.

 "Never."  I groaned. 

  The lesson I learned?

  Well the obvious.. take your shoes off before walking down the stairs if they are three inches or higher.

 

  I learned that looks cannot always be everything.  It never fails, when I am trying to be the best, the prettiest, the most talented.. I end up making an ass of myself.  I end up looking like I am trying way to hard which in turn makes me, or anyone for that matter, look like an ass. Yes an A-S-S.  So don't be an ass.  Be you, be real, be genuine.  It's much more attractive.  I am sure Justin would have been much happier with me wearing less as I graced him with my presence.. then more.. but thats as far as I am going to take that. ;)

  

 But I also realized, that I never stopped and thanked the One who is responsible for providing me a house to clean, I never thanked the One who gave me the family who uses those dishes that I loaded in the dishwasher.  Never once did I thank the One who gave me the talent of doing hair, and provided me with a job I love.  Never once did I thank him for a good day.  And what if I would take all those nasty jobs I have to do every day and say..  "thank you for.."  instead of  "Uuuughghghgh why do I have to do this..."?

  For example..

  Thank you God that I have a cat named Suzie.. who poops in the litter box.  Who I love.. who loves me.  It is a blessing, God, to scoop her poop.  

  Okay.. you get the point I am sure.  But what if we all did this?  I think we would appreciate everything a tiny bit more. 

  If I were God.. I would've given me a swift kick in the ass, and chuckled as I went sailing down those stairs.  "Ungrateful twit," I can imagine Him saying.  Hmmm maybe he did.  Either way.  I got the point.  

  ~Thank you God, for letting me sail down those stairs, for letting my head slam into the wall, and for the three saumersalts before I landed.  Because somewhere in between, I learned to love you a bit more.  To appreciate my family a bit more... and to not take myself so seriously. 

    P.s.  I know you love me more then I love you.  Thank you.   amen

        

  

  

  

 

I AM

Song Suggestion:  Mirror by Barlow Girl

~to the lovely lady.  The person who I hardly know.. who I feel like I've known all my life.  :)  Let this be our creed.  

I AM

This is me.  I will be unapologetic.

I am someone who is loved,

and someone who is strong.

A woman who has loved,

and lost.

A woman who has damaged,

and been damaged.

I am done saying sorry to you.

This is who I am.

I am ready to be me.

This is how I will conquer.

Speak of me as you wish,

choose to be negative.

And if you do..

your words mean nothing to me.

You are nothing to me.

Because I know who I am,

I love who I am.

I will accept what I cannot be..

and work on what I can be.

~ Love, Renee                                         

CORA

Song Suggestion:  Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol

 When I was little I had this obsession with my older sister Cora.  She was so smart.  She always had her head in some really thick book.  I would watch her face while she read, she would wear these glasses that made her look even smarter.  I wasn't blessed with the luxury of having to wear glasses.  Little sisters always get the shaft.

  She could act also.  I used to spy on her in her room.  I would watch her through the nail hole in the wall at our house in Ahuas.  She would look in the mirror and do very dramatic things.  I thought it was so cool.  I could never make out what she was saying but it looked very intense.  I would go to my room and stand in front of my mirror and try to mimic her.  It was never as much fun doing it myself... so I would go back and peek at her through the nail hole.  

   She got boobs before me.  I remember asking her what having boobs felt like.  She called me a pervert and rolled her eyes.  I just stole one of her bras and stuffed it.  I looked funny with boobs.  Cora had nice boobs.. my stuffed boobs sucked.  She had very pretty hips to.  Bitch.  

    Cora's diary ROCKED.  I remember when I found out via-diary that Norman kissed her and tried to grab her boob.  I was so jealous.  Norman was mine.  He was 10 years older then me.. but who cares he was mine.   She was so intense in her diary.  I started my own, but all I wrote about was reading Cora's diary.  Pointless.  So I just went back to reading hers.  

   When Cora went to the United States to live with Grandma and Grandpa in Iowa, I felt betrayed.  I cried for a whole day.  I missed her so much it made me sick.  We really weren't that close yet.. but who would I obsess over.  Who would be there to protect me from.. oooh la la Norman.. when he tried to kiss me and grab my boob?!  

    Cora, Caleb and I had to go live with my Dad's parents, Grandma Ginny and Grandpa Paul in Grand Rapids while my little brother, Michael's, adoption was being finalized.  My parents stayed in Honduras while we kids, flew to the United Sates to live with Grandma and Grandpa..   Grandma and Grandpa were NOT fun to live with.  They were very strict.  Grandma made us sit on the floor of their brand new van after we got done swimming because we would ruin their leather seats. Cora flicked Grandma off with her middle toe while we all hid in the back seat and giggled. Cora yelled at Grandpa for me to,  he harassed me so much as I ate my ice cream sundae one night that I spilled it all over.  What she did for me was heroic... I cried and she fumed... at Grandpa.   Take that old man.  

   When Cora was in high school I stole all her clothes.  I wore them and always stained them. Dad and Mom put a padlock on her door, but I just unscrewed the screws and got in that way. She had this perfume called True Love... that Ryan Marincovich gave her.  I wanted to be someones True Love.. so I used half the bottle.  That's also when I found out that Cora still kept a diary.  JACK POT.  I read that to.

   Cora told me that I was her vivacious blond sister who was very strong.  She made me feel like super women.  In her speech at my wedding she reminded me of the time I asked her if she ever got jealous of me... then told me she did.  I watch her speech at least fifty times the week after I got married and cried each time.  I didn't ever realize how much I needed to hear her say those things.  I promised myself that at her wedding I would do the same for her.

   I took Cora to the Hair Clinic when she was home visiting so I could do her hair.  I had just learned to do body waxing and she graciously volunteered to get her nostrils waxed.  I dribbled wax all over her nose and we laughed so hard I wet my pants.   She helped me wipe up my puddle on the floor as we laughed hysterically and got the hell out of dodge.  

   Cora told me it was OK  to turn up the music in my Explorer, roll down the windows and smoke a cigarette while I sat on Dad's gravestone.  She said Dad would love it.  I couldn't smoke the cigarette.  But I did do the rest. It was very nice.  

    Cora taught me that being me is good enough.  That I don't have to be a hero to be a hero. She told me about Moses and all the amazing things he did... how he lead his people to the promise land but was never actually allowed to enter.  She said that we can do great things without getting a reward.  Whether it be a big or small thing we do.  That the reward is just doing that great thing.  

      It's Cora's birthday today.  What do you say to the woman who has helped shape you into the woman you are today?  

 

      I guess.. thank you and I love you.  

     

   

     

     

   

  

     

I'll take a bottle of organization.. and throw in some willpower to.

  Last night I woke up at 3 a.m. and my mind was buzzing with things I needed to do.  Things that I should have of done two days ago, that I keep sweeping under the rug.  Laundry.. cleaning.. buy some fish food... Cole needs new snow pants because the $40.00 pair you just bought him (with the brand name saying 'Blizzard Proof")  are highly absorbent.   Pay the bills, balance the checkbook..   OK so you get the point.   

   I felt my heart start to beat a little faster... and the muscles in my shoulders tighten.  I thought.. in my haze, that I might as well just get up, make a list, and start checking it off as I go.  I figured by the time the kids and Justin get up.. I will have all my tasks completed. Drink a pot of coffee and jitter my way through the rest of the day.  So I sat up, crawled out of bed and made my way down stairs to the kitchen.  I stood there for a minute in the quiet, dark room and just listened to the house breath.  I wished my mind could be as peaceful as it was.  

  

  Next I wandered into the bathroom and flipped on the lights... ooh bright.. ewe look at me.  I shut the overhead light off and kept the one in the shower on.  I looked tired and kind of old.  It surprised me.. not the tired part, but the old part.  

"Geesh, that happened fast. "  I thought.

 

  Realizing that I would not be accomplishing anything at three in the morning, and the fact that by the time work rolled around that afternoon I would be a hot mess... I crawled back in bed.. and lay there for an hour.. angry with myself for how unorganized I have been lately. Wondering what it would be like if you could just run to the pharmacy and pick up a prescription for any 'issue's' we had.  A quick fix.  Wouldn't it be great?

 "I'll take a bottle of organization... throw in some willpower to.  Oh and what can you do about looking old?   Can I have that in a capsule?"

  I smile at the thought of me at the Dutch Mill Pharmacy, all disheveled, asking Patrick the pharmacist to fix my life.  I imagine the facial expression he gives me.  

"Put it in a capsule so I don't have to taste it please... just fix it quick."

 This is when I laugh out loud.. and Justin stirs.  I quickly throw my head in the pillow.  And finish giggling and he begins to snore softly again.  

  I am not sure what I was really laughing about.  The actual scenario itself playing out in my fuzzy mind or  the fact that I was thinking about all this at... by that time it was around 3:45 in the morning.   But I was grateful for the for the late night chuckle.  It took the edge off.  Eventually my eyes got heavy and I drifted off to sleep.    

  The picture?  I found it and loved it.  It portrayed my exact feelings the moment I woke up last night.  Though I didn't grab a glass of wine and suck down a cigarette.   I wanted to.  

Reconnecting

  Last night Justin and I had the opportunity to reconnect with old friends.  He he... that makes us sound like were in our mid fifties..  But if you've started a family you know, it inevitably happens.  You grow older, have children and don't have time to "play" with your friends every weekend.  

So when Crisinda called me last Thursday to see if we could go out for dinner I said yes.... yes, yes, yes!   These are friends that no matter what, when we get together we pick up right where we left off.  Friends we feel comfortable with.  

So, here is some background.   Crisinda and I went to middle school and high school together. While I wish we could say we were the best of friends all through the years.. I can't.  In fact we were completely nasty to each other most of the time.  I had fatefully been placed next to her locker for seven years because of the "alphabetical curse"  Vander Pol...Vander Broek.   We were friends with each other when it was convenient for ourselves.  I cannot tell you how many hours I waisted scheming against her.    Like the time she  "accidentally" slammed my hand in her locker... and then giggled.  Oooh I wanted to shove her head in the locker and slam the door... and giggle.  But I waited patiently for my next time to attack.  One time I taped a picture of a Frizz Ease add on her locker.. then waited for her to see it and let her cry on my shoulder.  Oh revenge is best served cold.  Unfortunately Mr. Bakker caught me red handed and I received my first in-school suspension.  DAMN.. it was bitter sweet.   I have many more of those stories but that is not the point.    The point of this "post" is the fact that Crisinda and I have become so much closer though our adversity.   Crisinda and Justin used to date.  Actually I went on a double date with her and Justin once. ( Must have been a good week for her and I :) ) I remember seeing Justin at her locker everyday.   When they broke up fates collided and Justin moved a locker down... awkward I am sure, but girls can be bitches.. and I was one.   Crisinda and I didn't really have much to do with each other after that.    Justin and I got married and Crisinda went to college..  

Now Brian.  Brian and Justin's story is much different.  They have been friends since they were little.  They grew up together, went to college and did pretty much everything else together.  Brian has been through everything with Justin and I.  He was the best man in our wedding. He's seen our good, our bad and our most nasty situations.  When Brian and Crisinda reconnected I was not sure what to think.   Brian... our best friend, was dating Crisinda, Justin's ex-girlfriend. Awkward at first.  The only person who made it awkward was me, and once I realized this, I got over it.  Brian and Crisinda got married.  It was a beautiful wedding.  

  Now years later we both have two children.. a boy and a girl and our lives are busy.  It makes us appreciate spending time with them even more.   Last night we went to Kimbre, an insanely yummy steak restaurant that is located in a town past Worthington... out in the middle of nowhere.  It was about an hour drive that felt like 20 minutes.  

  So nice to laugh so hard your stomach hurts and your face feels like it might be sore the next day.  So nice to slip away from our regular everyday life and just enjoy two people we love very much.   I am not sure when we will get to throw in 2-Pacs greatest hits, turn the volume up and pretend we can all keep up with Brian rapping but when the opportunity rises.  Justin and I will take it.   

 

   

  

Boo Boo

Kendall ripped a whole roll of toilet paper to shreds today.

She put it all in the sink and filled it with water,

then she threw in 4 rags and about 15 pumps of my Pure and

Natural hand soap.

I found her stirring the concoction. Talking to herself... mumbling 

something about cooking and cleaning.

My first instinct was to shriek.  

Bubbles and wadded up toilet paper, my clean wash clothes 

that I had just washed and folded.   

Her first instinct was to cry.  I scared her,

or maybe I hurt her feelings.  

I should have approached her more delicately.

I cleaned up her mess.

While I cleaned she moved on to Suzi's food and water dish.

again I walked over to her... 

again she was mumbling something about cooking, while she mixed 

the little pieces of cat food and the water together. 

Not sure what motivates her to make these messes.  

This time I just watch and she doesn't know.

She's pretending she's me.  I am listening her say things 

that only I say.  Like...

In a minute boo boo... she doesn't like it when I call her that.  

I am flattered.  

I will let the meow mix and water mixture slide.  

Has she been walking around pretending to me all this time?

Making messes and mumbling to herself..

hmmm, I guess she's not to far off.  

 

School Bus Rumble

Last night I found out that Cole got into a fight on the school bus. 

I had just gotten home from work, I was tired and ready chill.  I kicked off my four inch wedges, shoved what ever I could find into my mouth and collapsed into a chair next to Justin.  That's when he dropped the bomb. 

WHAT!?  A fight?!  He's seven.  What could a seven year old possibly get into a punching fight over?   I was Furious, spewing out as many questions as I could actually ask in as little time as possible to figure out what in the HELL happened on that bus.  Half of whatever I was eating.. I honestly don't remember, went sailing in Justin's direction the other went down the wrong tube.  

"It's been happening for awhile I guess, this boy has been harassing Cole on the bus."   Justin explained to me.    

I saw red.  I saw fire.  I was shaking.  I wanted to find this young man and twist his little neck until I heard a satisfying.. snap.  That is what I wanted to do.    

"He waits till Cole gets on bus.. and then picks on him.  He punched Cole in the stomach and called him fat."    He went on.

"FAT?  He what?  FAT??"   I kept asking more questions... I wanted to understand why a kid could be so mean.    I love my son, of course I am going to want to rip the head off this... this..

"What's this little punks name!?"   I asked Justin... almost screaming at him.

 I wanted to rip little Antuan to shreds.  "ANTUAN?!  Seriously. " 

  By the next morning I had calmed down.   I was able to talk to Cole and see how he was recovering from his traumatic day.  He sat on the counter eating the usual roast beef sandwich that he always eats every morning for breakfast.    

   I asked if he was OK, if he wanted to talk about the.. "fight".    To my surprise he was very at ease with the whole event.  It became clear to me that I was more traumatized then he.  I gave him the whole, "you are special no matter what you look like" speech.  He could have cared less.  I asked Cole how he was going to approach ..ughghghghgh Antuannnnnn...  when they saw each other today.  Cole just stared at me like I was so corny.   

 

  What a realization.  I cannot always be there to protect him.  I can only pray for his protection.  I cannot shield him from the bad things that come flying in his direction.  I can only be there for him after they happen to him.  I cannot fight his battles and I most certainly cannot snap every little boys neck that wrongs my son.   But I most definitely will show him a mean right hook just in case it ever happens again.  ;)

The "new" Normal

Song Suggestion:  Yesterday  by Leona Lewis

If you have lost someone you love, whether it was unexpected or you watched them slowly leave this earth, you know the raw emotion that comes with the healing process.  I like to give the example of wading through waist deep water.  Very cold, waist deep water.  You would like to move a little faster to get yourself out onto dry land.  Land.  Something that is sturdy and familiar.  Only to find that you cannot sprint though water, you wade.  But you have to press on, moving almost in slow motion. 

  Slowly life has moved on for my family and I.  But it has changed.  The loss of my Dad has transformed the entire dynamic of my family.  I have waited for life to become normal again.   Only to realize that a new normal has been created.  The life that leaves him in the past, in my memories.  In the pictures plastered on my walls.  In his hand writing on the cards and letters that I have saved.  He's always lingering somewhere in my mind.  Or in a song on the radio.  Sometimes the sense of loss will pour over me and I feel as if I want to rip my heart out of my chest.  Because for one moment I want to be done feeling.   I want to know what that feels like.   

I had a moment tonight that caught me off guard.  I don't like those moments.  You don't see them coming and then it smacks you upside the head and leaves you spinning and sinking.  Trying to claw your way to the surface and regain your composure before people notice.   As I sat in my Sunday night Bible study I was asked how many years it's been since Dad died.  I am Ok with that question, but for some reason a nerve was hit.   Maybe it was because I was tired and I tend to be a bit more emotional, or maybe it was because I didn't have Justin beside me tonight, to put his hand on my leg and let me know I am strong and that everything will be fine. I don't know.  But I answered with surprisingly little emotion.  

Suddenly others from my group began to converse about their loved one's who are battling cancer and winning.  For now.  Excuse my negativity,  and I had to swallow slowly and breath very deeply.   I listened to them discuss the effects chemotherapy and radiation has had on their sister's and mother's bodies.  I felt guilty for not being able to really know and feel what Dad felt, how much he suffered.  I wondered how much pain he actually hid from me so I wouldn't have to watch him suffer.  I was angry that he didn't make it.  It was a painful moment and I wanted to run out of the room, jump in my car and sob.  We ended our study.  And I did.  For four blocks I cried.   As I pulled into my church parking lot to pick up Cole, I pulled down my visor, wiped the streams of mascara from my face and sat there staring at myself.   Cole climbed into the Explorer, I turned around to look at him and cleared my throat.   In my best happy mommy voice  I asked, "How was church buddy?"   He didn't stop talking till we got home fifteen minutes later and I was very grateful.  

Life goes on, painful moments happen.  I am allowed to struggle with this. I find peace in that.  In the end I had an amazing Dad, and I was lucky....  When I lay my head on my pillow tonight, my heart still aches.  But I feel peace.

    

Kendall

When Justin and I decided to try and expand our family I became somewhat obsessed with the whole "planned" pregnancy idea.  I think it was because my first pregnancy was so out of my control that I felt very strongly about being prepared.  I bought about a million books to prepare me for my up coming voyage.  Books that would help me conceive faster,  baby name books, books that told me when I was ovulating and approximately what time of the day.  I buried myself in baby knowledge.  I watched every single Baby Story on TLC and I cried with each birth, imagining how Justin and I would feel the day our second child came into the world.    I made sure I new every single holiday that was coming up so I could coordinate a theme with how I would announce to my family that I was in fact.. (sigh) pregnant.   Meanwhile the months slowly rolled by.  I would pray for this child that I was to bare, praying that God would teach me patience, but that I would get pregnant soon.  I confess now that I would pray for a little girl.  Even the sex of this child I wanted to control.  I made a promise to myself that if I did have a girl I would drop everything I was doing to paint her toenails if she'd ask me.

  With each day that passed I became more desperate.  I still remember the days my closest friends called me and told me they were pregnant.  I remember choking out the words " Oh my GOSH!  I am so happy for you!"  Then moments later hanging up the phone and literally falling to the floor sobbing yelling at God.  "How cruel.  How do you just rub my face in this and then call yourself a loving God. .. I want this.  I want this more then them."    

  How silly I must  have looked from His prospective. How obvious to me, when I look back what God was trying to rub in my face.  If I would have stopped my perpetual wining I would have heard God whispering..  "Don't you realize yet you cannot control EVERYTHING in your life."  It was not up to me or the doctors, it was up to God.  

   The day I found out I was pregnant was the one happiest days of my life.  It was New Years Eve and I was able to announce to my entire family and my best friends during dinner that I was going to have a baby.  I could not have asked for a more special moment then that....  Well, I guess giving birth to that baby girl ranked right up there as well.    I am very proud to tell you that not once in the last three years have I turned down the opportunity to paint her little toes.  So blessed to paint those toes.    

  

Loving You is So Easy

I love to press my face against yours 

and breath your scent in.

I love to put my lips against yours

 and give you kisses while you giggle.

When I get home and you squeal,

I love the way that makes me feel.

When you sing Jesus Love Me,

I know how much He does,

and when you make me sing Sunshine..

I hope you know you are my sunshine.

Your smile takes my breath away

and your personality makes me smile.

Little one, loving you is so easy,

I pray you feel the same.

When you grow older and your youth fades,

I will try to be content.

I will welcome the smell of your perfume,

just as I welcomed you into this world.

Someday the pitter patter of your feet

will give way to the clicks of your heels.

One day those crazy bouncing curls

might be combed and place just so.

Years will fly by,  

crayons and sidewalk chalk will sit on the shelf

replaced by blush and mascara.

Cinderella will lose her luster

and Santa will be the man with the white beard.

But there is one thing age can't touch.

I will always be your mother.

In life and through death we'll always have this bond.

The mother, daughter bond.

Beautiful, special one,

loving you is so easy.

Love mama :)

 

   

COLE

  When I was 19 years old I found out I was pregnant.  I remember holding the pregnancy test in my hands and this feeling of devastation washed over me.  My life had come to an abrupt halt, it literally froze in time as I sat on the bathroom floor and wept.   I didn't know how I would tell my parents, or Justin's parents.  I didn't know how to move forward.  I was angry and scared and I felt very alone.  I wanted to ask God why he let this happen, but I didn't because the answer was already buzzing though my head.    

   When I told my mom and dad I was pregnant I was terrified,  the daughter of missionaries, I figured this would be the last straw.  Being quite a hell raiser in high school I thought my parents would tell me enough is enough.  I remember walking into the living room and the lights were off, my mom lay on the couch sleeping peacefully unaware that her youngest daughter was about to drop a whopper on her.  I wanted to stand their in the quiet and take it all in for a few more moments.  The calm before the storm.  Little did I know that after I told her she would put my face in her hands and ask me if I was OK. Give me a strong hug and tell me she loved me.   Little did I know of Gods grace and his plan.  

  This is my story 7 years later.  Someday hopefully Cole, my son,  will read this and understand that just because his mommy and daddy might not have been prepared for his arrival.  Somebody was.

PLANNED

You came to me unexpected.

God gave you to me and I didn't ask.

What makes me so special?

Like thunder after a lightning storm,

the ones you and I like to watch.

Scary at first but what a thrill,

just like you coming into my life.

And all at once you were here,

you make me a better woman.

God gave you to me, but I never asked..

How did I get so lucky?

Remember to try and be prepared,

 God will give you something you don't ask for,

and when he does stop and remember our story. 

You were planned, created and placed in my arms.

God turned me into a mother

He turned you into a son.

Now we will both watch you grow up

and to soon you'll turn into a man.

This time I'll know that life isn't in my hands.

I'll give Him to you because you are His

and together we will raise you.

He will love you strong, please love Him strong,

he loves you more then I do.

Inconceivable, incredible, indescribable

that He loves you more then I do.

Grow up child, go into this world,

slow up child.. don't do it to soon.

This world may not be ready for you.

But just like I, it will adjust

and wrap it's arms around you,

And just like your mother

it may and will sin against you.

But one thing will always be certain..

He planned you, God made you

He knows everything about you,

 God chose ME to be your mother.

I'll thank him forever, I'll love you for always..

as long as I'm living our son you will be.