Monday.

tonight we met grandma and grandpa for a birthday dinner. nancy and grandma had birthdays last week.

grandma brought the boys two wonderful books. one on prayer. and the other was titled, "my first picture dictionary". they were both old books...the BEST kind.

after dinner nana gave Pratt a baby turtle she had found for him. I think she is secretly setting up an experiment to see how long it will take for me to kill him. because I'm the worst with inside animals. Pratt immediately named him Bingo Ninja Turtle (last name undecided...but NOT Fulks).

can you tell that a. Max loves his great grandparents and b. the boys are thrilled about Bingo?

morning.

7:30 am. saturday morning.

he carried his daddy's favorite blanket over. crawled up in my lap. spread the blanket out. sat back. looked up at me and smiled. then placed his little arm around me and hugged me.

then he snuggled in to watch blue's clues.

in 16 short days he turns 2. why does it all happen so quickly?

cinnamon pecan crunch cereal.

i'm always looking for sweet treats.  because that's my weakness.  but if i can find something with chocolate that is semi-okay for you, i'm golden.  and i only need a bite.  or two.  honestly.

welp.  i've been missing cereal.

not anymore.

i found something (cavegirl cuisine) that is better than ANY cereal i've ever had.

cinnamon pecan crunch cereal.

oh heavens to betsy yes.

served with a splash or two of coconut milk.

if you're eating paleo, the ingredients are already in your pantry.

go make it.  and tell me it's not your favorite new cereal.

is the juice worth the squeeze?

i've been dealing with something recently that has really been hard for me.  as in, it has literally consumed so much of me.

well, it did.  for days.  and days.  and then one day i felt anger about it all.  and i realized then that i was allowing it to run my life.  and affect my happiness which DIRECTLY affects my children.  because i'm not big enough to fake happy.

i had lots of advice from good friends about how to handle the situation.  MANY said to walk away.  to run away, actually.  but i heard my daddy's voice saying, "be kind.  put yourself in their shoes.  walk around in their skin.  and then decide."

but then, one day, while in my car...it hit me.  i wasn't big enough anymore.  i was broken and hurt.  and i had to start protecting myself.  because otherwise, it would literally cause me to breakdown.  and i didn't have time for that.  and the situation wasn't worth that.

i have prayed for a peace about it all.  prayed to know that it's okay to walk away.  because everything i read said that i was supposed to forgive.  and forget.  and be kind.  keep being kind.  even when you aren't getting that back...or ANYTHING back for that matter.

so i tried.  tried to walk away. but there has still been a nagging worry at the back of my mind.  like a hair that falls down your shirt.  and gets on your chest, in your bra.  you know it's there.  you can feel.  but it's so small and fine that you can't see it or find it.  but it's enough to bother you.

enter my bff (who doesn't know it) jen hatmaker.  and my other bff (who knows it) laura strickland.

laura sent this to me last night.  and when i read it, i wept with tears of joy.  and relief.  and realized that maybe taking care of myself...maybe walking away REALLY IS THE BEST THING.

i'm copying the best part (in my opinion) here.  but if you want the blog in it's entirety click here.
i have italicized the parts that spoke to me (ie: the parts where i couldn't keep reading because i was sobbing so hard because i felt like she really should be my friend and at the same time i worried she was videotaping me and my house).  enjoy her words.  she is such a blessing to me.  may she be a blessing to you as well.

There is a tipping point when the work becomes exhausting beyond measure, useless. You can’t pour antidote into a vat of poison forever and expect it to transform into something safe, something healthy. In some cases, poison is poison, and the only sane answer is to move on.
 
Relationships, careers, churches, friendships, expectations, roles, tasks, organizations – these structures and connections can be the most life-giving elements on earth. They can lend meaning and purpose and belonging like nothing else. Within them, we find our tribes and passions, we come to life.
 
But anything that powerful has a downside, for they are the same things that can drain us dry and leave us for dead. When an endless amount of work and blood and sweat and tears leaves a situation or relationship or even an ambition (Perfect Mom, Size 4 Human, Person Who Has It All Together) as unhealthy as it ever was, when there is virtually no redemption, when the red flags have frantically waved for too long unheeded, the alarm bells receding into white noise after sustained disregard, sometimes the healthiest possible response is to walk away.
 
Assessing a circumstance as worthy of the toil is a discarded skill. Our culture doesn’t value safe boundaries like it should. We hold private disdain for the one who quit, the one who pulled out, drew a line in the sand, the one who said no more. We secretly wonder if they shouldn’t have tried harder, stayed longer, if this isn’t an indicator of their flimsy loyalty. Surely we would’ve done better in their shoes.
 
Locked in a toxic relationship or career or ambition or community, the levels of unhealth and spiritual pollution can murder everything tender and Christlike in us, and a watching world is not always privy to those private kill shots. It can destroy our hope, optimism, gentleness. We can lose our heart and lose our way. And here is the key: we can pour an endless amount of energy into the chasm, and it will never matter.
 
There is a time to put redemption in the hands of God where it belongs and walk away before you destroy your spirit on the altar of Futile Diligence. Not every battle has a winner; sometimes it is all losers, carnage everywhere. When healthy options exist, and there is a safer alternative right…over…there, often the bravest thing we can do is stop fighting for something that will never, ever be well.

Walk away gracefully; we need not fire parting shots over the bow. That only creates more losers, and you're better than that. Take your dignity and self-respect and precious humanity, and be proud of the way you handled yourself one year from now. You don't need to be proven right; much more is at stake than validation. You'll never regret being gracious, but you might deeply regret burning a bridge that might one day be safe enough to venture back over.
 
It is not ungodly to evaluate critically; it is the wisest thing we can do. Reaching a point where you say “enough” to a toxic environment is not cowardly – it is so very brave. It will free you up to expend your energy in worthy ways, protecting you and maybe even your people from brutal coping mechanisms. (Do we really want to teach our children that “identifying with your captor” is the best way? When all we do is defend our imprisoner, it’s time to take a hard look in the mirror.)
 
What is the tipping point? There is no formula here and I can’t give one. This requires honest self-evaluation, safe and wise counselors, the close leadership of the Holy Spirit, a sobering assessment of reality. Ask, “Is the juice worth the squeeze here?" and sometimes it is. You might discover signs of life and possibility rising up through the efforts, or the task at hand is simply too worthy to abandon, regardless. There may be necessary work left to do, and it’s too soon to assess. Or maybe the Spirit holds you in place for unclear reasons, which you may or may not ever know, but you will find peace in obedience and continue to listen for marching orders.
 

sunday.

Daddy got home from Phoenix late Saturday. We couldn't have been more excited. We all missed him.

Yesterday we had lunch on the back porch of one of our favorite Mexican restaurants. The boys love it because there is cheese dip and after they eat, they always run around out there. But only if no one else is there. Because I'm not that much of "that" parent.

While max napped, Pratt and I went down to the river so he could hunt for mussels for his fish tank. We found about 7 of those. He got to visit with some people fishing from the bank. That's his favorite thing to do: visit with strangers. I'm serious. Going to the snowcone stand has become dangerous. He always meets several friends and always asks if I'll get their phone number and address so he can invite them over. Tooooootally NOT my child.

We found a six spotted tiger beetle. Caught it with his bug net. He picked me a bunch of flowers. So we were both thrilled with the trip.

While clint worked in the yard, I took out all the old mulch from the flower beds and got them ready for new. In doing so, I found a skink and a frog. Of course lots of worms and beetles too for max. I was a true hero because I had on gardening gloves. So I wasn't afraid of anything. Ha!

It's hard to imagine a more perfect day for these boys. We are so blessed to live here. In this house. Out in the country. Well, sort of. It's perfect for us. For sure.

outside.

We have enjoyed all things outside these past few days.

Snowcones. (Seeing two people totally make out)

Soccer games. Chloe did a great job. Can you tell p loves them?!

Dirt. Worms. And caterpillars.

All things boy.

Oh, and just so I never forget that I really didn't pee alone. Pratt. Talking to me while I potty.

life.

pratt:  we had a new little boy in sunday school today, mom.  he was from mexico.

me: he was!?  how did you know that?

pratt: he told me.  i asked him if his name was dora.  he said no.  i asked him if it was boots.  nope.  swipper.  nope.  he never told me his name, momma.  i tried though.  i really, really tried.

this is life with my pratt.

my max.

i have debated for about a month now, whether or not to blog about this.  because it involves someone other than myself.  someone, in an essence, i'm speaking for.  because his voice cannot be heard at this point.  and i've been worried that maybe i'm overstepping my boundaries with this.  and maybe it should be kept private.

but i'm not a private person.

i think that privacy is from the devil.  well, usually.  obviously there are some things that need to be kept private.  BUT when something happens and i have a feeling another person can benefit from it....or maybe even i can benefit from it, then i feel it's necessary to share.

so that's what i'm doing.

max will soon start physical and speech therapy.  locally.  as far as i know (what i've understood so far), he's a textbook low muscle tone baby.

physically: he w sits.  he has never jumped off his feet at this point.  he cannot walk down an incline.  he cannot walk down steps without a rail.  he cannot kick a ball.  he cannot walk backwards.  he falls over/backwards/down at least 15 times a day (that's a good day).

that's a whole lot of "cant's".  and my school psychology/positive reinforcement background is kicking in and so i have to include a list of what he can do.

he can love.  he can hug.  he can walk.  he can run.  he can smile.  he can kiss.  he can hug.  and lots of other things too.  but that's just a few.

after meeting with the physical therapist (who is a good friend of mine), she thinks that he will benefit from 2 hours a week of therapy with her.  she seemed very optimistic about him improving.  most likely within a year.  maybe more.  at this point, he qualifies for early intervention services because he is below the age of 3.  once he turns 3, we will go from there.  i'm hoping by then, he will be way more stable on his little feet.  and that he will be doing what all "typical" 3 year olds are doing.  as of right now, he is actually 23 months old.  but physically he is somewhere around a 12 to 14 month old child.

that's all for physical.

now.  for speech.

this gets really complex.  and really confusing.  really quickly.

his tonsils are gigantic.  he had 11 ear infections in his first year of life.  he is low muscle tone.  apparently (i think) all those things together can cause lots of problems.  his palate is still very high.  which usually flattens by now.  for some reason his hasn't.  his tonsils cause his tongue to protrude forward.  it causes him to drool A LOT.  the low muscle tone affects his facial muscles and maybe (?) his speech.

we had an eval friday with the speech pathologist.  she says she thinks max is around a 10 to 12 month age as far as expressive vocabulary goes.  he has about 12 words he can say.  he "should" have 50.  his receptive vocabulary (what he can understand without using words) is right at 24 months.  within normal limits.  average.  where most kids are.  but not his expressive.

i don't know yet how much speech therapy she thinks is necessary.  i will know next week.

i know that this might not make any sense to you, because max is not your child...but the amount of guilt i feel right now is overwhelming.

guilt?  why?  well, let's see.

i've convinced myself that i'm the reason he is developmentally delayed.  i carried him around all the time when i should have let him walk.  he was so big.  and so laid back.  and i just thought it would be easier for me to carry him than for him to attempt to walk.

i've convinced myself that i am such a poor divider of my time that i have spent more time with pratt than with max.  and because of this, he is behind with speech.  pratt has never been behind.  and i'm sure it's because he was all i had to care for.  and so it was easy to name every single freaking object i handed him.  it was easy to do flashcards.  it was easy to let him talk as much as he wanted because there was no one else around to interrupt.

i've convinced myself that it was because he was colicy.  and because i was the most depressed i've ever been.  and that i know i didn't take a prenatal vitamin every single day.

i've basically decided i could have prevented all this.

i know maybe that's crazy.  it even sounds that way to me.  and i'm not wanting you to say i'm wrong.  i'm not wanting anything from anyone, really.

i guess i'm saying that mom guilt is a b.  and that i've never felt it like i'm feeling it now.

worry and concern are literally eating me alive.  it's all i've thought about.  i worry he will never walk well.  i worry he will never talk.  i worry he will be made fun of.  that he will not be happy.  that he will struggle with everything in this life.  and it's already hard enough.  i worry, worry, worry.

and let me be clear.  i realize that this is not a deadly illness.  that he has his health and as my dad says, that's all that matters.  and that's true.  but i want happiness for max.  i want success for him.  i want everything good and warm and fuzzy all wrapped up in something awesome for him.  and i'm afraid it won't come.  terrified really.

my friend laura texted me:

tonight i pray that God gives you peace in knowing that He gave you the perfect boys for YOU.

i'm trying to cling to that.  to claim that.  i know it to be true in my heart.  i know He gave me two boys that he chose for me.

i just hope i'm enough for them.  because tonight, tonight i'm scared.  i'm terrified of failing them.  so if any of you have felt that way...or feel that way now,  you're not alone.  i'm right here with you.

maybe we can hold hands.

xoxo.

duty.

Clint is going out of town for like, ever.

Really, only four days. But that will be like forever.

So last night I asked Pratt if he could be the man of the house. For sure. Yes. Totally.

I said, "so p, what will your duty as man of the house be?"

His response: " duty. You said duty mom. Duty in my pants."

And then he and his daddy laughed like they were watching stepbrothers or something.

He's 4. It's gonna be a long (read: awesome) road being the only female in this house.

today.

tball is still fun. watching those babies dogpile for the ball is some good stuff. good for the soul stuff.

max loves sitting on my head. pratt's head. dad's head. he's a total crazy person.

he's also the happiest baby I know.
oh, dad sprayed pink paint on pratt's shoe so that he remembers to step with this foot and throw with the other. hilarious.

I love these boys so.

boys.

our Monday.

easy. happy. blessed.