tonight max is sleeping in the top bunk for the first time.
his prayer was, "dear jesus, thank you for pratt. amen".
i just never want to forget that.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Monday, November 17, 2014
yet.
i reminded her that yet is a really important word.
a word often forgotten.
often left out of my internal worries.
this isn't my original thought. it is glennon's. as in momastery.
but it got me thinking.
YET.
it's so big. it's such a big deal.
i was cooking in our church kitchen this morning. we are serving lasagna and green beans unbundled and the pioneer woman's cheesy garlic bread for dinner. i was up doing the beans and bread. getting them prepped for the oven at 4.
i was standing there, with my pandora radio blasting third day, when it hit me.
many moons ago, probably no one would have thought that i'd be in a church kitchen cooking. rocking out to christian music.
i was the girl who turned down wednesday night church because it was the SAME NIGHT AS BEVERLY HILLS 90210.
i mean, who expected me to miss the drama that was brenda and dylan?! not me. i would be tuning in week by week to see what was gonna happen next. i had a pillow case with dylan's face on it. who needed jesus when i had 90210.
are you dying?
yeah. me too. so are my parents.
but that's real life.
and real life is just ugly and embarrassing and horrible sometimes.
yet.
there's that word again.
i wasn't there yet in high school.
i wasn't there yet in college.
but i was on my way.
i was being molded into the person i sort of am today.
and the person that i want to be tomorrow.
i've often thought about how some of the wisest people i know are so much older than me. what's that about? does it take years? experience? tragedy? pain? loss? love?
what is it? and how do i live it...but also survive it?
sometimes i find myself driving down the interstate (i do that A LOT) realizing this just can't be my life. i can't have two beautiful, healthy children. who love me. who like me. who want to be with me. a husband who has always put me first. a man whose goodness knows no bounds. a family who is perfect in all ways. friends who are probably the best i could ever ask for.
how can this be my life?
how can i be this lucky?
it's then i feel my throat tighten and i realize it's only a matter of time before something happens.
that something that throws me off track. and hinders my ability to get to where i want to be. my ability to understand what this life is really about. because as that song says, "cause what if your blessings come through rain drops?"
i mean, what if.
what if getting there is all about rain drops. and tears.
i know.
i know that it is.
but i still want it.
i still want to wake in the morning and thank God for this life.
for this hectic, crazy life.
i want to be content.
i want to to want nothing else.
i want to be good.
and kind.
and i want my boys to grow up and think, "one day, i'll be like my mom."
isn't that what we all want?
we want good for our kids. happiness.
we want to give our children enough to do something...NOT enough to do nothing.
and so i'll be here. working on the yet.
taking baby steps.
which sometimes feel like i'm not moving at all.
feel free to join me.
a word often forgotten.
often left out of my internal worries.
this isn't my original thought. it is glennon's. as in momastery.
but it got me thinking.
YET.
it's so big. it's such a big deal.
i was cooking in our church kitchen this morning. we are serving lasagna and green beans unbundled and the pioneer woman's cheesy garlic bread for dinner. i was up doing the beans and bread. getting them prepped for the oven at 4.
i was standing there, with my pandora radio blasting third day, when it hit me.
many moons ago, probably no one would have thought that i'd be in a church kitchen cooking. rocking out to christian music.
i was the girl who turned down wednesday night church because it was the SAME NIGHT AS BEVERLY HILLS 90210.
i mean, who expected me to miss the drama that was brenda and dylan?! not me. i would be tuning in week by week to see what was gonna happen next. i had a pillow case with dylan's face on it. who needed jesus when i had 90210.
are you dying?
yeah. me too. so are my parents.
but that's real life.
and real life is just ugly and embarrassing and horrible sometimes.
yet.
there's that word again.
i wasn't there yet in high school.
i wasn't there yet in college.
but i was on my way.
i was being molded into the person i sort of am today.
and the person that i want to be tomorrow.
i've often thought about how some of the wisest people i know are so much older than me. what's that about? does it take years? experience? tragedy? pain? loss? love?
what is it? and how do i live it...but also survive it?
sometimes i find myself driving down the interstate (i do that A LOT) realizing this just can't be my life. i can't have two beautiful, healthy children. who love me. who like me. who want to be with me. a husband who has always put me first. a man whose goodness knows no bounds. a family who is perfect in all ways. friends who are probably the best i could ever ask for.
how can this be my life?
how can i be this lucky?
it's then i feel my throat tighten and i realize it's only a matter of time before something happens.
that something that throws me off track. and hinders my ability to get to where i want to be. my ability to understand what this life is really about. because as that song says, "cause what if your blessings come through rain drops?"
i mean, what if.
what if getting there is all about rain drops. and tears.
i know.
i know that it is.
but i still want it.
i still want to wake in the morning and thank God for this life.
for this hectic, crazy life.
i want to be content.
i want to to want nothing else.
i want to be good.
and kind.
and i want my boys to grow up and think, "one day, i'll be like my mom."
isn't that what we all want?
we want good for our kids. happiness.
we want to give our children enough to do something...NOT enough to do nothing.
and so i'll be here. working on the yet.
taking baby steps.
which sometimes feel like i'm not moving at all.
feel free to join me.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
when we feel known...
i'm a procrastinator.
i'm terrified of making my way through a crowd of strangers to find someone i know.
i'm disorganized 6 out of 10 times.
i'm always misplacing my keys, bills, important papers for the boys.
i don't always respond to text messages.
i don't ever delete emails.
these are all things i'm not good at. things that i constantly work on, but it seems no matter how many resolutions i make...no matter how many times i make check lists, i still haven't mastered these things.
and i probably never will.
and so in those moments when i fail. in those moments when these things prove to be true...so damn true, i ache. and i find that i don't like myself.
and i remember so many things.
i remember leaning against the wall in the science hallway. in my high school building. i remember standing there. in my cheer uniform. i remember a boy...a year younger than me, walking towards me. he looked at me, smiled...laughed and said, "hey ham hock legs. whatcha waiting on?"
i go back to the girl i was in college. dating the guys who only cared for themselves.
i can close my eyes and see the shell of the person...of the young girl i used to be.
and i'm heartbroken for her.
for the girl who never could stand up for herself. the girl who spent her life making sure others were happy. never questioning why she wasn't.
in those moments when i fail, i remember that girl. i'm taken back there. to her. to the tiny person who no longer exists. (praise the LORD).
she no longer exists for many reasons.
annie downs said it best with, "when we feel known, it changes who we are."
yes. one million times yes.
when we feel known.
when we feel validated.
when we feel loved.
when we feel appreciated, admired.
when we have strength.
this didn't happen for me until i was an adult. i can actually pinpoint the exact moment i felt known. it has grown over the course of the last few years.
but the spark occurred as i was driving over the arkansas river in 2008. it was about a week after i found out i was pregnant with pratt.
and it hit me.
i was married. to this man. who loved me for me. who wanted to have a family with me. who wanted to take care of me and this baby.
he didn't love me because....he loved me although.
and that, my friends, was a first for me.
ever since pratt was in my belly, i have desired a life of happiness for him. i wanted him to be smart. to be successful. to be kind. to be funny. all the things we want for our children.
last night, at his first parent teacher conference, i was told so many things about him. things i had prayed for him. at the end of the conference, i was leaving when the teacher made the comment that he was "such a protector of others". that he protected them. made sure everything was right and fair and okay.
as i walked out of the building, tears burned my eyes because i realized that what i always wanted for him, he is that child. he does those things. he lives that life.
when i texted my parents and my sister, my father's response was, "i know he is only 6 years old and he has a lifetime ahead of him, but i don't know if it is possible to receive a greater compliment."
i agree. wholeheartedly.
knowing he is helping others to feel known, warms this momma's heart.
knowing he is validating feelings. loving others. making hurts better.
well, it just goes to show that our kids really do come through us. they are not of us. because i have never been this strong.
if you're young and struggling and reading this, know life does get better. surround yourself with those who help you feel known.
distance yourself from those who press their identity on you. those who want to mold you into what they think you are. run from those people. they are harmful and will make life harder than it should be.
and if you've found someone who makes you feel known, go hug them. and thank them. because i can't think of anything to be more thankful for.
xxoo.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
stop.
today when max got in the car (he's walked to the car and put inside by one of his teachers), miss katina said, "max, when one of your friends is bothering you...remember, you say, stop". and she motioned with her hands the sign for stop. at least, i assume that's what it was. it was a flat palm and the other hand was straight. i'm sure that's what it was. the sign for stop.
so he did it. looked right at her and said and signed, "stop".
it's been at the back of my mind all day.
as we drove off i asked him what happened. and then quickly (as i always do) followed up with, "was someone mean to you, max?"
it has to be a yes or no question.
yes, he said.
he also said a name. but i couldn't figure it out. i guessed but i guessed wrong because he said, "no momma" and then repeated the name to me.
still, nothing. immediately i regretted not knowing all the kids in his class. because that was the end of our conversation. i quickly reiterated that he could and should sign and say stop anytime he felt uncomfortable.
on we drove. to pick up pratt.
a little while later i got a call from an occupational therapist at access. telling me that max had qualified for OT. he qualified in several areas. areas of weakness.
she also wanted me to know where he had done well. areas of strength. and for a split second, i was so proud of him.
it has bothered me all day.
until you've had this happen, you have no idea how damn exhausting it is to hear where your kid is weak. where he needs work. where he needs therapy. where he could do better.
i want, more than anything, for him to live a normal life.
i want him to be happy. and strong. and healthy.
and i want him to run and jump and play with friends on the playground.
i want him to tell secrets.
i want him to tell jokes.
i want him to giggle.
i want him to play hide and seek.
i want him to be able to count to 10.
i want him to be able to tell me what show he wants to watch.
what he wants for dinner.
what he wants to drink.
where he wants to go.
what he wants to wear.
i want him to tell me no. and yes.
i want him to yell at pratt.
i want him to say a nightly prayer.
i want so much for him.
mostly, i just want him to be happy.
i wasn't here at bedtime, so clint put them down.
max wanted to sleep in the bunkbeds, so clint allowed it.
i went in to check on him and found this...
isn't that the most precious thing you've ever seen?
as i look at it, i can't help but wonder what he's dreaming about.
is he dreaming of olaf? and anna?
is he dreaming of pratt and fishing?
what about running and skipping and flying kites?
sitting in pop pop's lap.
hugging me as tight as he can.
is he dreaming about sonic ice cream.
or target popcorn.
in his dreams, can he speak like his friends?
will i ever know? will he ever be able to tell me?
yes. i know the answer is yes.
but sometimes it feels like life is dragging on. and while everyone else is moving forward, max and i are stuck. in sinking sand.
my children are my whole life. i don't have a real job. i don't have anything else to worry about. so i worry about them. mostly, i worry about that 3 year old.
so if you could, say a prayer for me. and for that little boy. and for all the little boys and girls who are dealing with apraxia too. it's so hard, y'all.
life can just be so hard. so do me a solid.
teach your kids that we don't all look alike.
we don't all sound alike.
we don't all act alike.
that's part of the beauty of God's creation.
we are all different.
and because of this, it's important to be kind to everyone. thanks, friends.
xxoo.
so he did it. looked right at her and said and signed, "stop".
it's been at the back of my mind all day.
as we drove off i asked him what happened. and then quickly (as i always do) followed up with, "was someone mean to you, max?"
it has to be a yes or no question.
yes, he said.
he also said a name. but i couldn't figure it out. i guessed but i guessed wrong because he said, "no momma" and then repeated the name to me.
still, nothing. immediately i regretted not knowing all the kids in his class. because that was the end of our conversation. i quickly reiterated that he could and should sign and say stop anytime he felt uncomfortable.
on we drove. to pick up pratt.
a little while later i got a call from an occupational therapist at access. telling me that max had qualified for OT. he qualified in several areas. areas of weakness.
she also wanted me to know where he had done well. areas of strength. and for a split second, i was so proud of him.
it has bothered me all day.
until you've had this happen, you have no idea how damn exhausting it is to hear where your kid is weak. where he needs work. where he needs therapy. where he could do better.
i want, more than anything, for him to live a normal life.
i want him to be happy. and strong. and healthy.
and i want him to run and jump and play with friends on the playground.
i want him to tell secrets.
i want him to tell jokes.
i want him to giggle.
i want him to play hide and seek.
i want him to be able to count to 10.
i want him to be able to tell me what show he wants to watch.
what he wants for dinner.
what he wants to drink.
where he wants to go.
what he wants to wear.
i want him to tell me no. and yes.
i want him to yell at pratt.
i want him to say a nightly prayer.
i want so much for him.
mostly, i just want him to be happy.
i wasn't here at bedtime, so clint put them down.
max wanted to sleep in the bunkbeds, so clint allowed it.
i went in to check on him and found this...
isn't that the most precious thing you've ever seen?
as i look at it, i can't help but wonder what he's dreaming about.
is he dreaming of olaf? and anna?
is he dreaming of pratt and fishing?
what about running and skipping and flying kites?
sitting in pop pop's lap.
hugging me as tight as he can.
is he dreaming about sonic ice cream.
or target popcorn.
in his dreams, can he speak like his friends?
will i ever know? will he ever be able to tell me?
yes. i know the answer is yes.
but sometimes it feels like life is dragging on. and while everyone else is moving forward, max and i are stuck. in sinking sand.
my children are my whole life. i don't have a real job. i don't have anything else to worry about. so i worry about them. mostly, i worry about that 3 year old.
so if you could, say a prayer for me. and for that little boy. and for all the little boys and girls who are dealing with apraxia too. it's so hard, y'all.
life can just be so hard. so do me a solid.
teach your kids that we don't all look alike.
we don't all sound alike.
we don't all act alike.
that's part of the beauty of God's creation.
we are all different.
and because of this, it's important to be kind to everyone. thanks, friends.
xxoo.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
dear pratt.
my dearest pratt,
this weekend you turned six.
six years old. i don't even know. the high was 74 degrees. and that's perfect. because the day i took you home from the hospital...the high was about the same. it was a beautiful, cool, sunny and windy day.
i've told you many a time that i didn't know how to be a mom.
but six years later, i know exactly how it's done.
it's done with love.
and forgiveness.
with laughter.
and tears.
it's done with patience.
courage.
compassion.
it takes sleep.
and worry.
it takes depression medicine.
and wine.
counting to ten.
counting to twenty.
and when that doesn't work...it takes crying in the shower.
and sonic. lots of sonic.
it takes friends.
and a daddy.
and grandparents.
and a village to bring food. to babysit. to discipline.
the past five years have been the best of my life. hands down.
nothing compares to this life i have with you and daddy and max. there are times when i just start crying counting my blessings. not because i'm sad, but because i am overwhelmed with gladness. because i am overwhelmed with blessing. because i, IN NO WAY, deserve what i have here.
i am humbled by our friends. i am humbled by those that love us.
i need you to know that they love you. and i worry that you're so much like me...that there will be a time in your life where you question what you're here for. if you're like me, you will question your worth. you will question your thoughts. and your heart. and your goodness.
let me say something here.
there is no reason to question that.
i'm not just saying that because i'm your mom. i'm saying it because i'm smart. and i know you. and i know who you are. i know that no one is perfect. but i know that you try. i know that you love with all your heart.
i know that your eyes water when you see or hear something sad. or something emotionally moving. you have done this since you were 4. your emotional intelligence is remarkable.
and because of this, you will love more deeply than the average bear. you'll also hurt way worse. you'll cry more. but you'll laugh more too. your highs will be higher...and your lows will be lower. but in the end, when you're 100, i think you'll look back and smile. and realize that you wouldn't have had it any other way.
i cannot imagine having lived the last three years of life without you. there is a reason God sent you first.
you are the best big brother i know. i wish i could be as good of a big sister to sugar as you are to max. you're that good.
three nights before your birthday, as i was putting you to bed, you called me back over to you. and you said,
hey momma. i know you worry about max. but i want you to know that i take care of him. like last night at church, i told everyone that he was only 3. and that he couldn't say words like i could. so they had to be careful with him. and they had to be patient. and that if he got hurt, he would just cry and not be able to tell them what was wrong. but they could come get me and i could fix it.
a lot of this cannot be taught. it's innate, i think. sure. we've worked on being kind. and helpful. and brave. we've talked about max and his apraxia. and we've discussed what a big brother does. what a friend does.
but your little heart...your little mind takes it so much further.
you are a special child, my pratt.
there was poet by the name of khalil gibran and he said this about children....
your children are not your children. they are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself. they come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
you may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. you may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
you may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. for life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
all that to say that i want you to be sure of yourself. i want you to be happy. and kind. i want you to be patient.
i want you to be better than me and daddy. i want you to do more. love more. wish more. travel more. laugh more. hug more.
all things more.
do not try to be like me. or daddy. or anyone else for that matter.
just find you. know who you are. know what you like. what you don't like.
know what makes you happy. and what keeps you from that.
know you.
i'm not totally sure how to do this. but i know it involves an insane amount of patience. and courage. and a quietness about yourself. about your soul. about your life.
and prayer.
pray. and thank God for your blessings. and for your trials. because it is through those, that you will really know who you are.
and my sweet boy, you are off to a great start.
i love you, my little 6 year old.
xoxo,
momma.
this weekend you turned six.
six years old. i don't even know. the high was 74 degrees. and that's perfect. because the day i took you home from the hospital...the high was about the same. it was a beautiful, cool, sunny and windy day.
i've told you many a time that i didn't know how to be a mom.
but six years later, i know exactly how it's done.
it's done with love.
and forgiveness.
with laughter.
and tears.
it's done with patience.
courage.
compassion.
it takes sleep.
and worry.
it takes depression medicine.
and wine.
counting to ten.
counting to twenty.
and when that doesn't work...it takes crying in the shower.
and sonic. lots of sonic.
it takes friends.
and a daddy.
and grandparents.
and a village to bring food. to babysit. to discipline.
the past five years have been the best of my life. hands down.
nothing compares to this life i have with you and daddy and max. there are times when i just start crying counting my blessings. not because i'm sad, but because i am overwhelmed with gladness. because i am overwhelmed with blessing. because i, IN NO WAY, deserve what i have here.
i am humbled by our friends. i am humbled by those that love us.
i need you to know that they love you. and i worry that you're so much like me...that there will be a time in your life where you question what you're here for. if you're like me, you will question your worth. you will question your thoughts. and your heart. and your goodness.
let me say something here.
there is no reason to question that.
i'm not just saying that because i'm your mom. i'm saying it because i'm smart. and i know you. and i know who you are. i know that no one is perfect. but i know that you try. i know that you love with all your heart.
i know that your eyes water when you see or hear something sad. or something emotionally moving. you have done this since you were 4. your emotional intelligence is remarkable.
and because of this, you will love more deeply than the average bear. you'll also hurt way worse. you'll cry more. but you'll laugh more too. your highs will be higher...and your lows will be lower. but in the end, when you're 100, i think you'll look back and smile. and realize that you wouldn't have had it any other way.
i cannot imagine having lived the last three years of life without you. there is a reason God sent you first.
you are the best big brother i know. i wish i could be as good of a big sister to sugar as you are to max. you're that good.
three nights before your birthday, as i was putting you to bed, you called me back over to you. and you said,
hey momma. i know you worry about max. but i want you to know that i take care of him. like last night at church, i told everyone that he was only 3. and that he couldn't say words like i could. so they had to be careful with him. and they had to be patient. and that if he got hurt, he would just cry and not be able to tell them what was wrong. but they could come get me and i could fix it.
a lot of this cannot be taught. it's innate, i think. sure. we've worked on being kind. and helpful. and brave. we've talked about max and his apraxia. and we've discussed what a big brother does. what a friend does.
but your little heart...your little mind takes it so much further.
you are a special child, my pratt.
there was poet by the name of khalil gibran and he said this about children....
your children are not your children. they are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself. they come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
you may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. you may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
you may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. for life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
all that to say that i want you to be sure of yourself. i want you to be happy. and kind. i want you to be patient.
i want you to be better than me and daddy. i want you to do more. love more. wish more. travel more. laugh more. hug more.
all things more.
do not try to be like me. or daddy. or anyone else for that matter.
just find you. know who you are. know what you like. what you don't like.
know what makes you happy. and what keeps you from that.
know you.
i'm not totally sure how to do this. but i know it involves an insane amount of patience. and courage. and a quietness about yourself. about your soul. about your life.
and prayer.
pray. and thank God for your blessings. and for your trials. because it is through those, that you will really know who you are.
and my sweet boy, you are off to a great start.
i love you, my little 6 year old.
xoxo,
momma.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
show and tell.
often i hear what other people are worried about and i can't help but roll my eyes.
i'm ashamed i do this. but i do it so often you wouldn't realize i was ashamed of it. you'd think i would spend more time working on it. but it's so hard.
because my main worry is max.
he's been my main worry for over a year now.
i worry about the normal stuff too. like pratt. and clint. and my parents. i worry about my sister. i worry about life.
but mostly, i worry about max. and about him talking. or him not talking.
while he's making strides...huge strides, he still doesn't sound like the "typical" 3 year old.
and so this morning, when i got this email...i fell into tears.
a few things.
one. sure i'll send the pictures. and i'll work on everything with max. i'll even attach a post it with the names of everyone so that his teachers will know what he's saying.
two. i KNOW without a shadow of a doubt that he is in the BEST place for him. i know that his teachers will encourage him to talk. i know that his classmates won't wonder why he can't speak as clearly as they can. i know that not a single child will make fun of him.
and three. i know that it WILL be fun for him. he actually will be so proud to stand and show his pictures.
but until you've stood in my shoes...until you've been the mom with the child that doesn't "look like/sound like/act like" the other "typical" kids, you don't understand.
and so i get it.
but let me beg something of you.
teach your children to be kind.
my second worry is about when max starts kindergarten. i don't worry about pratt making new friends. i don't worry about him in the cafeteria. i don't worry about him on the playground. he is capable and sure of himself and he is just fine. will he eventually have his feelings hurt? YES. but pratt fits in well with other kids. he looks like, sounds like, acts like the majority of the children he's in school with.
i hate apraxia. i hate that we have to deal with this. i hate this is what my baby has been given. i would do anything to take it on for him. i would give anything to fight this battle for him.
but i can't. and it's such a helpless, lousy feeling.
i know there will be a day when max gets up with a picture...and can tell story after story about his life. and his family and his pets. but that day isn't monday, september 8th.
i pray it is soon. and i pray he remains happy and carefree.
say a prayer for all those dealing with their own issues this morning.
and recognize that maybe your own problems are minuscule compared to others.
i'll do the same.
update to this post, 12:55 pm.
i just received this text from max's therapist, ashley.
there are just no words. if you zoom in, you can see that she's even included pictures as to how his mouth should look when he says the words.
i just, i don't know. ashley will never know what this means to me. she will only understand how i feel when she has children of her own one day. i'll be there to shower her with gifts and to hold the baby while she sleeps and showers and shops and anything else she might want to do.
because she loves my max. and as my friend marietta said, "she's got a good heart. she's not only doing what she is supposed to, but she cares.".
she absolutely does.
so ashley, i love you. and i'm so blessed to call you our friend and our speech therapist.
i'm ashamed i do this. but i do it so often you wouldn't realize i was ashamed of it. you'd think i would spend more time working on it. but it's so hard.
because my main worry is max.
he's been my main worry for over a year now.
i worry about the normal stuff too. like pratt. and clint. and my parents. i worry about my sister. i worry about life.
but mostly, i worry about max. and about him talking. or him not talking.
while he's making strides...huge strides, he still doesn't sound like the "typical" 3 year old.
and so this morning, when i got this email...i fell into tears.
a few things.
one. sure i'll send the pictures. and i'll work on everything with max. i'll even attach a post it with the names of everyone so that his teachers will know what he's saying.
two. i KNOW without a shadow of a doubt that he is in the BEST place for him. i know that his teachers will encourage him to talk. i know that his classmates won't wonder why he can't speak as clearly as they can. i know that not a single child will make fun of him.
and three. i know that it WILL be fun for him. he actually will be so proud to stand and show his pictures.
but until you've stood in my shoes...until you've been the mom with the child that doesn't "look like/sound like/act like" the other "typical" kids, you don't understand.
and so i get it.
but let me beg something of you.
teach your children to be kind.
my second worry is about when max starts kindergarten. i don't worry about pratt making new friends. i don't worry about him in the cafeteria. i don't worry about him on the playground. he is capable and sure of himself and he is just fine. will he eventually have his feelings hurt? YES. but pratt fits in well with other kids. he looks like, sounds like, acts like the majority of the children he's in school with.
i hate apraxia. i hate that we have to deal with this. i hate this is what my baby has been given. i would do anything to take it on for him. i would give anything to fight this battle for him.
but i can't. and it's such a helpless, lousy feeling.
i know there will be a day when max gets up with a picture...and can tell story after story about his life. and his family and his pets. but that day isn't monday, september 8th.
i pray it is soon. and i pray he remains happy and carefree.
say a prayer for all those dealing with their own issues this morning.
and recognize that maybe your own problems are minuscule compared to others.
i'll do the same.
update to this post, 12:55 pm.
i just received this text from max's therapist, ashley.
there are just no words. if you zoom in, you can see that she's even included pictures as to how his mouth should look when he says the words.
i just, i don't know. ashley will never know what this means to me. she will only understand how i feel when she has children of her own one day. i'll be there to shower her with gifts and to hold the baby while she sleeps and showers and shops and anything else she might want to do.
because she loves my max. and as my friend marietta said, "she's got a good heart. she's not only doing what she is supposed to, but she cares.".
she absolutely does.
so ashley, i love you. and i'm so blessed to call you our friend and our speech therapist.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
worry.
yesterday on our way home from school, pratt informed me that he didn't miss me at all. that he was okay without me. and that school was awesome. and wonderful. and the best place ever. and that he loved it.
so i said, "good. this is such a relief for me, p. does this mean i can stop worrying about you now?"
he said, "what? mom. why are you worried?"
i explained, as best i could, that i have worried about him since he was in my belly.
"since i was a sprankle seed", he asked.
i think he meant either a sprinkle or a sesame seed. i don't know. but yes, i told him. i had. i have always worried about him.
as my head hit my pillow last night, i commented to clint that i was emotionally exhausted. his response, "what for"?!
what for.
what for. oh hell. i don't know. BECAUSE MY CHILDREN STARTED FULL TIME SCHOOL THIS YEAR AND I'M LEFT AT HOME WITH NO-ONE AND I MISS THEM ALL THE DAY. THE WHOLE ENTIRE DAY I MISS THEM.
anyways.
this morning it hit me. i really don't have to worry about pratt.
he's got this. he has taken his lunch. and the past two days, he's eaten in the cafeteria all by himself. he got his napkin. his knife. his fork. his spoon. his milk. he's done it all. he walks to his class alone. he waits on the church van. he might as well have turned 18.
he is 5. and he is a kindergartener.
and while it's so hard to let go of him, i realize that this school thing...it's teaching him life.
he's learning that he's not the center of attention.
he's learning that he must take turns.
that rules exist and he must follow them.
he's learning that he's okay without me.
he's learning to introduce himself.
to make new friends.
to potty (AND WIPE) alone.
he's learning to trust other people.
he will see that the relatively easy life he lives is not standard for everyone.
he will learn that not everyone is kind.
that not everyone makes good choices.
that he will have his feelings hurt.
and that he will have to get past it. move forward. keep trucking.
clint watched a documentary about fred rogers not too long ago. mr. rogers was big on teaching children that even though we may not always see the good in people, it always exists. the good is always there. sometimes it's buried so deeply, it has to be unearthed. uncovered. discovered. and sometimes that discovery takes time.
he's been relaying that information to pratt. there is a kid in the class who has gotten in trouble for hitting. and so i told pratt to just stay away.
his response: maybe i should give him a few chances, mom.
i didn't know if i should cry or vomit. if i should hug him and tell him yes. or shake him and tell him no.
he's 5. and even at 25, my main concern will be his well being. and because of this, i have an incredible drive to protect him.
but i can't do that forever.
pratt was born with an emotional intelligence that i almost can't begin to describe unless you've seen it in action.
can he be a little turd? sure. he's 5. so can i. and i'm 35.
but his ability to walk in someone else's shoes is remarkable. he had a nervous breakdown when he heard clint had to do the ALS cold water challenge. cried. hard. worried about clint's well-being.
this kind of thing cannot be taught. it might be fostered by those around him. but it wasn't taught. it was innate.
he was like this at birth.
and so while it will bring great joy to those he will love and help and fight for, there is no doubt it will also bring sadness to him as he realizes the ways of the world. as he figures out just how mistreated certain people are. just how unfair life can be for some of us.
and for that, i worry.
but i'll put that off for right now.
and i'll just revel in knowing he's growing and blossoming into the little boy he's supposed to be.
so blessed to be his mommy.
so i said, "good. this is such a relief for me, p. does this mean i can stop worrying about you now?"
he said, "what? mom. why are you worried?"
i explained, as best i could, that i have worried about him since he was in my belly.
"since i was a sprankle seed", he asked.
i think he meant either a sprinkle or a sesame seed. i don't know. but yes, i told him. i had. i have always worried about him.
as my head hit my pillow last night, i commented to clint that i was emotionally exhausted. his response, "what for"?!
what for.
what for. oh hell. i don't know. BECAUSE MY CHILDREN STARTED FULL TIME SCHOOL THIS YEAR AND I'M LEFT AT HOME WITH NO-ONE AND I MISS THEM ALL THE DAY. THE WHOLE ENTIRE DAY I MISS THEM.
anyways.
this morning it hit me. i really don't have to worry about pratt.
he's got this. he has taken his lunch. and the past two days, he's eaten in the cafeteria all by himself. he got his napkin. his knife. his fork. his spoon. his milk. he's done it all. he walks to his class alone. he waits on the church van. he might as well have turned 18.
he is 5. and he is a kindergartener.
and while it's so hard to let go of him, i realize that this school thing...it's teaching him life.
he's learning that he's not the center of attention.
he's learning that he must take turns.
that rules exist and he must follow them.
he's learning that he's okay without me.
he's learning to introduce himself.
to make new friends.
to potty (AND WIPE) alone.
he's learning to trust other people.
he will see that the relatively easy life he lives is not standard for everyone.
he will learn that not everyone is kind.
that not everyone makes good choices.
that he will have his feelings hurt.
and that he will have to get past it. move forward. keep trucking.
clint watched a documentary about fred rogers not too long ago. mr. rogers was big on teaching children that even though we may not always see the good in people, it always exists. the good is always there. sometimes it's buried so deeply, it has to be unearthed. uncovered. discovered. and sometimes that discovery takes time.
he's been relaying that information to pratt. there is a kid in the class who has gotten in trouble for hitting. and so i told pratt to just stay away.
his response: maybe i should give him a few chances, mom.
i didn't know if i should cry or vomit. if i should hug him and tell him yes. or shake him and tell him no.
he's 5. and even at 25, my main concern will be his well being. and because of this, i have an incredible drive to protect him.
but i can't do that forever.
pratt was born with an emotional intelligence that i almost can't begin to describe unless you've seen it in action.
can he be a little turd? sure. he's 5. so can i. and i'm 35.
but his ability to walk in someone else's shoes is remarkable. he had a nervous breakdown when he heard clint had to do the ALS cold water challenge. cried. hard. worried about clint's well-being.
this kind of thing cannot be taught. it might be fostered by those around him. but it wasn't taught. it was innate.
he was like this at birth.
and so while it will bring great joy to those he will love and help and fight for, there is no doubt it will also bring sadness to him as he realizes the ways of the world. as he figures out just how mistreated certain people are. just how unfair life can be for some of us.
and for that, i worry.
but i'll put that off for right now.
and i'll just revel in knowing he's growing and blossoming into the little boy he's supposed to be.
so blessed to be his mommy.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
day 3 of kindergarten.
me: "welp. how was day 3 of kindergarten? tell me the highs and lows. tell me everything. i want to hear all of it."
pratt: "best day yet. loved it all. every minute of it. no p.a. (p.e) today, that's tomorrow. and i didn't miss you once, momma. didn't even think about you one, single time. NOT ONE SINGLE TIME, MOMMA.
okay.
1. you guys can all STOP praying for pratt. because obviously the kid is doing just dandy in there.
2. i mean, what the what people. by middle school he won't even know my name.
3. luckily, max is still clinging to me like a spider monkey. so there's that.
Friday, August 15, 2014
dear pratt.
dear pratt,
in two days you will start kindergarten.
where has the time gone? what in the world did we do for 5 years and 11 months?
i shall start at the beginning.
you arrived. your lungs were hurt so you stayed in the hospital a week without me. your daddy cried because we had to leave you there. your pop pop cried mid-prayer the first night we came home without you. finally you came home. ace sniffed you. decided he loved you. you were happy. i was not. i cried all.the.time. i was scared and in a town where i knew NOT A SINGLE PERSON. dad opened a brand new office. and left crazy at home to be with you. cookie left me here alone too. i cried more. and more. 3 months later, you slept all night long. you napped like a champ.
i was finally better.
we found a church.
we made friends.
you and i became best pals.
i learned how to grocery shop with a baby. how to target shop with a baby.
i learned how to drive to camden with a baby.
i was comfortable with you wherever life would take us.
i HAD this.
you turned one. you were healthy. and happy. and smart. so smart.
you began to walk. cautious, but you were doing it.
we went to the park. daddy would meet us on his lunch break. you would slide and giggle and ask for more.
we took our first trip to the pumpkin patch. you were a hippo for halloween. we called you pratt-opotamus. you helped daddy carve the pumpkin. you helped me make our first chocolate chip pumpkin muffins. you cracked your first egg.
you pooped in the bathtub for the first time.
you helped me with laundry. you would pull all the clothes out of the dryer and scoot them to my room so we could fold them and watch cartoons.
christmas came and you were given 2857234987349734972 toys that year. you were officially spoiled.
mr. rayper came and cut down a bunch of trees in the backyard and pulled them out and loaded them up with his mules. you stood out there all day to watch. you fell in love with all of it. you and daddy went on a small roadtrip to get a four wheeler. you stopped in hope to eat at mcdonalds. just you and daddy. you had a happy meal. chicken nuggets. you received and fell in love with your first pair of boots. from pops. you refused to take them off.
you made your first snowball. and loved being outside in the cold. we lured you back in with hot chocolate. you ate only the marshmallows.
you and daddy started setting up rabbit traps for the bunny in our front yard.
we saw the wizard of oz at robinson theater. you lasted until intermission.
you dumped an entire container of baby powder on the wood floors. then you helped me clean it up. it took like 4 hours.
we went to the beach. you were the only child. liza and max weren't born yet. and you loved it. sugar and ty ty spoiled you so much. the pratt reunion was held in eureka springs. you loved everyone. and they all loved you.
you had started talking and you never stopped.
you turned 2. you potty trained 10 days later. you had ONE accident. it was in november. we were on our way to thanksgiving in camden. you never slept in pull-ups. you just got it. at a very early age. it wasn't me. or anything i did. it was all you.
i found out i was pregnant. we found out it was a little boy.
you were thrilled. so excited.
max was born. i lost my mind. he screamed his face off for like 124 days. i lost my mind some more. you never complained. you only thumped him on the head one time. and when i asked you why you said, "because he just fries, momma. all the time. fry fry fry. and i can't take it, momma."
i didn't blame you. i couldn't either. so i don't even remember scolding you.
i remember coming home at one point from getting my haircut. you and daddy were at the kitchen table. you had on earmuffs. you were eating cereal. i could hear max screaming but didn't know where he was. turns out, you two had put him in the front room because you didn't want to listen to the screams. daddy said he couldn't do it. he needed to leave. i wanted to punch daddy in the throat because I DID IT EVERY SINGLE DAY. but i didn't. you're welcome.
four months later max was better. so was i.
max stopped screaming and you were the best brother to him. you would hold his pacifier in his mouth for him. you would get me bottles. you would help change his diapers.
you took a trip to new orleans with cookie and sugar.
life at this point was easy and good. you had friends. we had play dates. we went to the library. we went swimming.
we went to the bahamas with andy and clara and anderson. you have claimed it was the best trip ever. i agree. you kissed a dolphin. it was awesome.
you turned 4. you started preschool. you loved every single minute of it.
you turned 5. started your second year of preschool.
you spend the night with pops and jackie.
went on the disney cruise with cookie, denise, elaine and kendall.
went to st. louis with nana.
you are and always have been a world traveler. like a good one.
you graduated preschool. i cried.
you registered for kindergarten. i cried more.
you had open house for kindergarten.
here we are.
in the beginning, life seemed to drag on.
recently, it has seemed to fly by.
days can be long...but the years seem so short. as i've said before, i was there for all of it. but i couldn't have gotten through the first four months of max's life without you. you were my friend when i was lonely. you made me laugh when i needed it the most.
and in the days following max's diagnosis, you were the one that kept me going. i would randomly ask you if you thought max would be okay...if he would ever talk. and you would always say, "of course momma. why wouldn't he?"
your innocence was good for my soul. your belief in the good got me through the hard days.
there are times when you leave me...for school or a fishing trip with daddy, when i just want to hold you in my arms and never let go.
but i know that's not fair. i know that's keeping you from the world. and i want you to embrace this place. i want you to live life to the fullest. i want you to meet as many people as you can. i want you to touch as many lives as possible. i know in my heart that you are a difference maker.
i also know that you are one of the most sensitive people i have ever met.
and so you will, at some point, realize that the world is a sad, depressing place.
and while you will have this overwhelming desire to fix it, and make it better, please remember that you can only control yourself. and as much as you will want to control other aspects of life, you simply cannot.
so just do your part. be kind. put others first. love your neighbor. see the beauty in the small things. be good.
it is there you will find happiness.
i love you more than you love wild kratts. more than you love betty crocker blueberry muffins. more than you loved Putra from the disney cruise.
i cannot wait to watch you grow and blossom and make so many people happy this year.
i love you pratt.
so, so much.
xoxo, momma.
in two days you will start kindergarten.
where has the time gone? what in the world did we do for 5 years and 11 months?
i shall start at the beginning.
you arrived. your lungs were hurt so you stayed in the hospital a week without me. your daddy cried because we had to leave you there. your pop pop cried mid-prayer the first night we came home without you. finally you came home. ace sniffed you. decided he loved you. you were happy. i was not. i cried all.the.time. i was scared and in a town where i knew NOT A SINGLE PERSON. dad opened a brand new office. and left crazy at home to be with you. cookie left me here alone too. i cried more. and more. 3 months later, you slept all night long. you napped like a champ.
i was finally better.
we found a church.
we made friends.
you and i became best pals.
i learned how to grocery shop with a baby. how to target shop with a baby.
i learned how to drive to camden with a baby.
i was comfortable with you wherever life would take us.
i HAD this.
you turned one. you were healthy. and happy. and smart. so smart.
you began to walk. cautious, but you were doing it.
we went to the park. daddy would meet us on his lunch break. you would slide and giggle and ask for more.
we took our first trip to the pumpkin patch. you were a hippo for halloween. we called you pratt-opotamus. you helped daddy carve the pumpkin. you helped me make our first chocolate chip pumpkin muffins. you cracked your first egg.
you pooped in the bathtub for the first time.
you helped me with laundry. you would pull all the clothes out of the dryer and scoot them to my room so we could fold them and watch cartoons.
christmas came and you were given 2857234987349734972 toys that year. you were officially spoiled.
mr. rayper came and cut down a bunch of trees in the backyard and pulled them out and loaded them up with his mules. you stood out there all day to watch. you fell in love with all of it. you and daddy went on a small roadtrip to get a four wheeler. you stopped in hope to eat at mcdonalds. just you and daddy. you had a happy meal. chicken nuggets. you received and fell in love with your first pair of boots. from pops. you refused to take them off.
you made your first snowball. and loved being outside in the cold. we lured you back in with hot chocolate. you ate only the marshmallows.
you and daddy started setting up rabbit traps for the bunny in our front yard.
we saw the wizard of oz at robinson theater. you lasted until intermission.
you dumped an entire container of baby powder on the wood floors. then you helped me clean it up. it took like 4 hours.
we went to the beach. you were the only child. liza and max weren't born yet. and you loved it. sugar and ty ty spoiled you so much. the pratt reunion was held in eureka springs. you loved everyone. and they all loved you.
you had started talking and you never stopped.
you turned 2. you potty trained 10 days later. you had ONE accident. it was in november. we were on our way to thanksgiving in camden. you never slept in pull-ups. you just got it. at a very early age. it wasn't me. or anything i did. it was all you.
i found out i was pregnant. we found out it was a little boy.
you were thrilled. so excited.
max was born. i lost my mind. he screamed his face off for like 124 days. i lost my mind some more. you never complained. you only thumped him on the head one time. and when i asked you why you said, "because he just fries, momma. all the time. fry fry fry. and i can't take it, momma."
i didn't blame you. i couldn't either. so i don't even remember scolding you.
i remember coming home at one point from getting my haircut. you and daddy were at the kitchen table. you had on earmuffs. you were eating cereal. i could hear max screaming but didn't know where he was. turns out, you two had put him in the front room because you didn't want to listen to the screams. daddy said he couldn't do it. he needed to leave. i wanted to punch daddy in the throat because I DID IT EVERY SINGLE DAY. but i didn't. you're welcome.
four months later max was better. so was i.
max stopped screaming and you were the best brother to him. you would hold his pacifier in his mouth for him. you would get me bottles. you would help change his diapers.
you took a trip to new orleans with cookie and sugar.
you turned 3. you got a fish. it died. you got another fish. it died too.
you found a lizard. and a turtle. and a frog. we had so many animals in our house.
life at this point was easy and good. you had friends. we had play dates. we went to the library. we went swimming.
we went to the bahamas with andy and clara and anderson. you have claimed it was the best trip ever. i agree. you kissed a dolphin. it was awesome.
you turned 4. you started preschool. you loved every single minute of it.
you turned 5. started your second year of preschool.
you spend the night with pops and jackie.
went on the disney cruise with cookie, denise, elaine and kendall.
went to st. louis with nana.
you are and always have been a world traveler. like a good one.
you graduated preschool. i cried.
you registered for kindergarten. i cried more.
you had open house for kindergarten.
here we are.
in the beginning, life seemed to drag on.
recently, it has seemed to fly by.
days can be long...but the years seem so short. as i've said before, i was there for all of it. but i couldn't have gotten through the first four months of max's life without you. you were my friend when i was lonely. you made me laugh when i needed it the most.
and in the days following max's diagnosis, you were the one that kept me going. i would randomly ask you if you thought max would be okay...if he would ever talk. and you would always say, "of course momma. why wouldn't he?"
your innocence was good for my soul. your belief in the good got me through the hard days.
there are times when you leave me...for school or a fishing trip with daddy, when i just want to hold you in my arms and never let go.
but i know that's not fair. i know that's keeping you from the world. and i want you to embrace this place. i want you to live life to the fullest. i want you to meet as many people as you can. i want you to touch as many lives as possible. i know in my heart that you are a difference maker.
i also know that you are one of the most sensitive people i have ever met.
and so you will, at some point, realize that the world is a sad, depressing place.
and while you will have this overwhelming desire to fix it, and make it better, please remember that you can only control yourself. and as much as you will want to control other aspects of life, you simply cannot.
so just do your part. be kind. put others first. love your neighbor. see the beauty in the small things. be good.
it is there you will find happiness.
i love you more than you love wild kratts. more than you love betty crocker blueberry muffins. more than you loved Putra from the disney cruise.
i cannot wait to watch you grow and blossom and make so many people happy this year.
i love you pratt.
so, so much.
xoxo, momma.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
pratt's open house.
well. pratt had open house last night. katie kept max so we could let the whole thing really be about pratt. so glad we did that.
it started in the cafeteria where the principal introduced herself and everyone else. we were told all about the new security system they have in place. and everything else of importance.
pratt was so excited he couldn't contain it. about every 3 minutes he would whisper, "momma! when do i get to meet my teacher?!"
finally we did. we went to the classroom. it's perfect. she's perfect. lyla and colson are both in his class. it's just all perfect. i worried for a solid year for NO reason. i always do that. you'd think by now i would be over it. i'm not.
there was a composition book with HIS NAME ON IT AS IF HE IS GOING TO WRITE OR SOMETHING.
WHEN DID HE GET TO BE SO OLD!?
he wanted to wear his tuxedo. but i talked him down to only a bowtie.
he noticed all the centers/stations/etc. he made himself right at home. he literally looked around everything. flipped through books. just totally fit in. and loved it.
right before we left, he got to really visit with his teacher. you guys. he went right up to her and threw his arm around her like they were long lost buddies. she smiled like she knew him. and all my worry flew out the window.
she's a kindergarten teacher for heavens sake. she doesn't do this because she makes good money doing it. she does it because she loves kids. and loves to teach.
no more worry. i probably won't even cry on his first day. bahahahaaaaa. sike.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
when in doubt...
yesterday clint and i went to max's preschool open house.
there.
i said it.
it's for real now.
let me say something else that will MAKE YOU CRY.
it's full time.
like 8 to 3 pm. monday through friday.
ALL YEAR LONG.
with no summer break.
take a little time to compose yourself.
yes, people. he's 3. he is 3 years and 2 months.
my baby is about to leave me for basically college and i can't do anything about it.
i tried it all.
i prayed that there wouldn't be room.
all of a sudden, out of nowhere, there was a magical #13 spot. as in for years there had only been 12 kids in this class. and then bam. out of nowhere (kidding...i know where), they opened up a 13th spot. and max got it. lucky number 13. born on the 13th.
i prayed everyone would tell me that was too much. that i should hold him home. just take him to speech therapy. NOT THE ALL DAY PRESCHOOL STUFF.
nope. everyone (including his therapist who i trust with everything) said send him. he will flourish. that's what they said. i'm holding them to it. those meanies. i don't think they realize mom is about to lose her mind, y'all.
so it's done. he's on the list. his teacher knew who clint and i were.
oh! you're max's parents!!! yes! he's been down here all ready. for circle time. he's made friends. he will be great.
me: i need you to understand that his apraxia is severe. (this is hilarious because she already knows this. he's been in therapy here for 9 months. and she has read the report. she has seen him. heard him. she knows. but none the less, i'm crazy). like he refuses to try sometimes. i don't know if you understand how much he doesn't say.
her: yes. i know. he will do so well in here. he will hear all the hyper-verbal kids. but he won't be alone because there are lots of other kids with apraxia in here. i want you to video him now. because a year from now, you won't believe the progress he has made.
that's when i grabbed her arm. and looked at her. and tears sprung to my eyes.
she's a mom too. and so i know she knew what i meant with that touch.
she knew i wanted her to know that i love her. without ever really knowing her. i wanted to thank her for loving him already. for being patient with him. for pushing him when it's necessary. for teaching him right from wrong. for teaching him to write his name. his colors. his alphabet. his shapes.
i wanted to hug her for being a teacher. for making a difference in his life...and the life of so many others. i wanted to thank her for somehow making her life work on a measly salary that should be 10 times what i'm sure she is paid.
i wanted to tell her i would pray for her every single day. that i would thank God for her heart. and her love. and her understanding.
but i didn't. instead, i just squeezed her arm. and smiled. and she smiled right back.
because i think she got it.
i know she got it.
so on august 18th, at 8 am, max will start preschool.
and on august 18th at 8 am, pratt will start kindergarten.
did you get that?
they BOTH START ON THE SAME DAY AT THE SAME TIME IN TOTALLY DIFFERENT TOWNS.
this means that i can't physically be with both boys on their first day.
i don't even know you guys. i just don't even know.
but it's a total first world problem. and i do know that. and so i'll get over it. hopefully it won't be the main reason they have to go to therapy in the future.
for the past two weeks, every night when i go to sleep, i replay this scene over and over in my mind.
it's me and clint. in our driveway. i'm pregnant. maybe 10 weeks pregnant. with pratt.
and we are discussing what we will do when i have the baby. will i work? will i continue going to school for my phd? what will my plans be?
i was terrified to tell him that i wanted to stay home. i was so scared he would tell me we couldn't afford it.
but he didn't. i can't remember exactly what was said. but i told him i wanted to stay home. and be with them every step of the way. that i would work when they started school. but until then, i would be home with them.
he agreed. but the more i thought about it, the more i worried. was that the right decision? should i work? should i continue school? did i really want my identity to be sort of....lost? and tied into something else? someone else?
so i reached out to someone. kathy howard. she is the mother of a good friend of mine. she was the first person to tell me that babies don't keep. and that time goes by so fast. and that there will always be a job. but that children will grow up. and you'll regret not staying home IF YOU HAVE THAT OPTION. because listen, i know not everyone does. i also know that not everyone wants to.
and i don't know if kathy realized it, but she quoted anna quindlen,
when in doubt, choose the kids. there will be plenty of time later to choose work.
but me, i wasn't sure what i wanted to do.
and no one would help me. i wanted clint to just decide for me. but he knew better.
so i asked him if i could stay home. if that would work. financially. and he said it would. that we might have to cut back and go without certain "luxuries", but that we could do it.
and he was right.
i have everything i've ever wanted. i've never felt like i had to go without anything. in fact, i'm spoiled. i have too much. but don't we all. if you're reading this, you probably have too much too.
and so as i look back over the course of the last 6 years, i realize that i made the right choice. the best choice. i realize that for once in my life, i actually made a good decision. and i did it on my own. i had help. but in the end, i was the one who stood up and said what i meant. and meant what i said.
and i haven't ever quit.
i have been on duty every single day for almost 6 years. 6 years in september. i have been the mom. the only mom these boys have ever known.
i've never put them off on anyone else. i've never run away. i've never quit.
i'm proud of myself for that. because there were times when i might have wanted to. times when i was depressed. times when the colic was almost too much. that time when pratt hurled a foam block at my head in the library in front of god and everyone.
but i chose the kids. and i don't have a single regret.
thank you clint for working your butt off for us. thank you for making it possible for me to stay home and still have everything i could ever possibly want.
i may be the person the kids run to when they are hurt, but you are the glue that holds this all together. you are the rock. and the leader.
but mostly, mostly you are the love of my life.
thank you for what you are.
and who you are.
i'll say it again, i don't know how i got you. but i'm so thankful i did.
there.
i said it.
it's for real now.
let me say something else that will MAKE YOU CRY.
it's full time.
like 8 to 3 pm. monday through friday.
ALL YEAR LONG.
with no summer break.
take a little time to compose yourself.
yes, people. he's 3. he is 3 years and 2 months.
my baby is about to leave me for basically college and i can't do anything about it.
i tried it all.
i prayed that there wouldn't be room.
all of a sudden, out of nowhere, there was a magical #13 spot. as in for years there had only been 12 kids in this class. and then bam. out of nowhere (kidding...i know where), they opened up a 13th spot. and max got it. lucky number 13. born on the 13th.
i prayed everyone would tell me that was too much. that i should hold him home. just take him to speech therapy. NOT THE ALL DAY PRESCHOOL STUFF.
nope. everyone (including his therapist who i trust with everything) said send him. he will flourish. that's what they said. i'm holding them to it. those meanies. i don't think they realize mom is about to lose her mind, y'all.
so it's done. he's on the list. his teacher knew who clint and i were.
oh! you're max's parents!!! yes! he's been down here all ready. for circle time. he's made friends. he will be great.
me: i need you to understand that his apraxia is severe. (this is hilarious because she already knows this. he's been in therapy here for 9 months. and she has read the report. she has seen him. heard him. she knows. but none the less, i'm crazy). like he refuses to try sometimes. i don't know if you understand how much he doesn't say.
her: yes. i know. he will do so well in here. he will hear all the hyper-verbal kids. but he won't be alone because there are lots of other kids with apraxia in here. i want you to video him now. because a year from now, you won't believe the progress he has made.
that's when i grabbed her arm. and looked at her. and tears sprung to my eyes.
she's a mom too. and so i know she knew what i meant with that touch.
she knew i wanted her to know that i love her. without ever really knowing her. i wanted to thank her for loving him already. for being patient with him. for pushing him when it's necessary. for teaching him right from wrong. for teaching him to write his name. his colors. his alphabet. his shapes.
i wanted to hug her for being a teacher. for making a difference in his life...and the life of so many others. i wanted to thank her for somehow making her life work on a measly salary that should be 10 times what i'm sure she is paid.
i wanted to tell her i would pray for her every single day. that i would thank God for her heart. and her love. and her understanding.
but i didn't. instead, i just squeezed her arm. and smiled. and she smiled right back.
because i think she got it.
i know she got it.
so on august 18th, at 8 am, max will start preschool.
and on august 18th at 8 am, pratt will start kindergarten.
did you get that?
they BOTH START ON THE SAME DAY AT THE SAME TIME IN TOTALLY DIFFERENT TOWNS.
this means that i can't physically be with both boys on their first day.
i don't even know you guys. i just don't even know.
but it's a total first world problem. and i do know that. and so i'll get over it. hopefully it won't be the main reason they have to go to therapy in the future.
for the past two weeks, every night when i go to sleep, i replay this scene over and over in my mind.
it's me and clint. in our driveway. i'm pregnant. maybe 10 weeks pregnant. with pratt.
and we are discussing what we will do when i have the baby. will i work? will i continue going to school for my phd? what will my plans be?
i was terrified to tell him that i wanted to stay home. i was so scared he would tell me we couldn't afford it.
but he didn't. i can't remember exactly what was said. but i told him i wanted to stay home. and be with them every step of the way. that i would work when they started school. but until then, i would be home with them.
he agreed. but the more i thought about it, the more i worried. was that the right decision? should i work? should i continue school? did i really want my identity to be sort of....lost? and tied into something else? someone else?
so i reached out to someone. kathy howard. she is the mother of a good friend of mine. she was the first person to tell me that babies don't keep. and that time goes by so fast. and that there will always be a job. but that children will grow up. and you'll regret not staying home IF YOU HAVE THAT OPTION. because listen, i know not everyone does. i also know that not everyone wants to.
and i don't know if kathy realized it, but she quoted anna quindlen,
when in doubt, choose the kids. there will be plenty of time later to choose work.
but me, i wasn't sure what i wanted to do.
and no one would help me. i wanted clint to just decide for me. but he knew better.
so i asked him if i could stay home. if that would work. financially. and he said it would. that we might have to cut back and go without certain "luxuries", but that we could do it.
and he was right.
i have everything i've ever wanted. i've never felt like i had to go without anything. in fact, i'm spoiled. i have too much. but don't we all. if you're reading this, you probably have too much too.
and so as i look back over the course of the last 6 years, i realize that i made the right choice. the best choice. i realize that for once in my life, i actually made a good decision. and i did it on my own. i had help. but in the end, i was the one who stood up and said what i meant. and meant what i said.
and i haven't ever quit.
i have been on duty every single day for almost 6 years. 6 years in september. i have been the mom. the only mom these boys have ever known.
i've never put them off on anyone else. i've never run away. i've never quit.
i'm proud of myself for that. because there were times when i might have wanted to. times when i was depressed. times when the colic was almost too much. that time when pratt hurled a foam block at my head in the library in front of god and everyone.
but i chose the kids. and i don't have a single regret.
thank you clint for working your butt off for us. thank you for making it possible for me to stay home and still have everything i could ever possibly want.
i may be the person the kids run to when they are hurt, but you are the glue that holds this all together. you are the rock. and the leader.
but mostly, mostly you are the love of my life.
thank you for what you are.
and who you are.
i'll say it again, i don't know how i got you. but i'm so thankful i did.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
dear boys.
dear boys,
in 10 days, your momma will be 35 years old.
thirty five. that's like halfway to seventy. how did this happen so quickly? why don't i feel 35? oh wait. i do. sometimes when i catch a reflection of myself...and i see the crows feet. or the age spots, i realize that i'm old.
but you know what old means? old means i'm still here.
old means i'm healthy. and happy. and crows feet means i've laughed a lot. and age spots mean i've spent many a day in the warmth of the sunshine.
and so i'll take it.
i think my 30s have been the best years so far. i'm so much smarter this year than i was last year. i started thinking the other day. what would my advice be at 35 for you boys? should something happen to me...and i never get to tell you...what would i most want you to know that i haven't already said?
so here it goes.
accept who you are. accept who God made you to be. like that person you see in the mirror. because you know what? THERE IS NO ONE ELSE LIKE YOU. it's just you. and if you can't be you, then who is supposed to do that? this shouldn't be as hard for you two. boys do this better than girls, i think. i hope.
stop comparing yourself to others. just don't. there will always be someone smarter. and faster. and cooler. someone with more money. with more sense. with more stuff. but they aren't you. so that's that.
take care of your body. put sunscreen on. like all over your face. and on your neck. and on your chest. everywhere. workout for your heart. and for your happiness. but not to look like someone else. eat right because it makes you feel good. don't starve yourself and don't take weird supplements. those things haven't been studied enough. eat real food. just do. make me happy and just do that.
speaking of food, learn to cook. one day you'll probably be married and probably have kids...and you'll want to cook for them. watch your mom, your dad. or your grandmother. or the cooking network. whatever. just learn to cook. know how to make 10 things from scratch. it will make your heart happy.
sleep as much as you can. not only is it good for you, but there will be a time when you can't. because of a job. or school. or a baby. or because you are old and have prostate problems, have bladder problems or a bad back or whatever. just sleep when you can. you'll miss sleep one day.
don't give yourself away. with every relationship that goes too far, a part of you is left behind. keep yourself together. remember that one day you'll meet someone you love more than you thought possible. and not only will you love them, but they will love you. and you will want to be the best you for them. and if you've spent years changing and years breaking off pieces of yourself for other people (who aren't worth it), you'll be a shell of the person you were meant to be. and that's no fun. and that takes years of therapy to fix. and that's expensive.
learn how to communicate with everyone you meet. i honestly believe that 90 percent of problems arise because of a lack of communication. so go to therapy. talk to someone who isn't partial to your situation.
be honest. always be honest.
don't cheat. not on a test. not on a girl. not on a diet. just don't.
put God first. others second. you come third. that's it. that's all. it's an easy one (hahahahaaaa).
i hope i'm around when you boys turn 35.
i love you each to the moon and back.
so thankful you are mine.
xoxo,
mommy.
in 10 days, your momma will be 35 years old.
thirty five. that's like halfway to seventy. how did this happen so quickly? why don't i feel 35? oh wait. i do. sometimes when i catch a reflection of myself...and i see the crows feet. or the age spots, i realize that i'm old.
but you know what old means? old means i'm still here.
old means i'm healthy. and happy. and crows feet means i've laughed a lot. and age spots mean i've spent many a day in the warmth of the sunshine.
and so i'll take it.
i think my 30s have been the best years so far. i'm so much smarter this year than i was last year. i started thinking the other day. what would my advice be at 35 for you boys? should something happen to me...and i never get to tell you...what would i most want you to know that i haven't already said?
so here it goes.
accept who you are. accept who God made you to be. like that person you see in the mirror. because you know what? THERE IS NO ONE ELSE LIKE YOU. it's just you. and if you can't be you, then who is supposed to do that? this shouldn't be as hard for you two. boys do this better than girls, i think. i hope.
stop comparing yourself to others. just don't. there will always be someone smarter. and faster. and cooler. someone with more money. with more sense. with more stuff. but they aren't you. so that's that.
take care of your body. put sunscreen on. like all over your face. and on your neck. and on your chest. everywhere. workout for your heart. and for your happiness. but not to look like someone else. eat right because it makes you feel good. don't starve yourself and don't take weird supplements. those things haven't been studied enough. eat real food. just do. make me happy and just do that.
speaking of food, learn to cook. one day you'll probably be married and probably have kids...and you'll want to cook for them. watch your mom, your dad. or your grandmother. or the cooking network. whatever. just learn to cook. know how to make 10 things from scratch. it will make your heart happy.
sleep as much as you can. not only is it good for you, but there will be a time when you can't. because of a job. or school. or a baby. or because you are old and have prostate problems, have bladder problems or a bad back or whatever. just sleep when you can. you'll miss sleep one day.
don't give yourself away. with every relationship that goes too far, a part of you is left behind. keep yourself together. remember that one day you'll meet someone you love more than you thought possible. and not only will you love them, but they will love you. and you will want to be the best you for them. and if you've spent years changing and years breaking off pieces of yourself for other people (who aren't worth it), you'll be a shell of the person you were meant to be. and that's no fun. and that takes years of therapy to fix. and that's expensive.
learn how to communicate with everyone you meet. i honestly believe that 90 percent of problems arise because of a lack of communication. so go to therapy. talk to someone who isn't partial to your situation.
be honest. always be honest.
don't cheat. not on a test. not on a girl. not on a diet. just don't.
put God first. others second. you come third. that's it. that's all. it's an easy one (hahahahaaaa).
i hope i'm around when you boys turn 35.
i love you each to the moon and back.
so thankful you are mine.
xoxo,
mommy.
Friday, July 18, 2014
dear max.
my dear sweet baby max,
today at therapy, i noticed a mother i haven't seen before.
she was blonde. and tall. thin. had a wonderful leather messenger bag. was on a really thin ipad. had some noonday jewelry. a loose fitting shirt that looked designer-ish.
is it crazy that i noticed all that? maybe. but she just seemed so put together. i think i notice that stuff because i always wish i looked that way.
no one will ever look at me and think, "wow. she's so put together."
they might think, "wow. she is totally frazzled." or "oh, bless her. look. she's still in workout clothes at 2 pm."
or even, "oh look. she has toilet paper coming out of her pants."
because yes, THAT has happened. when i was 9 months pregnant. it happened 2 days before i went into labor with pratt. in front of MEN. toilet paper i had USED. toilet paper with PEE on it.
anyway.
okay. about the time i sat down, a little boy started walking towards us in the gym. i could see that he had braces on his little ankles. he wasn't smiling. he wasn't really focused on anything at all. he was just looking ahead. sort of whining.
his physical therapist opened the gym open door, and he attempted to step up over the metal part where the door latches. he had trouble. much like you have trouble. it's your balance. lifting one foot is hard when you feel like you'll fall over.
it took him a solid minute to get both feet over.
in these 60 seconds, i could see the face of his mom.
she was pained.
because she knew it was hard for him.
and she wanted more than anything for him to do it quickly. and swiftly.
she worried he would fall.
mostly, she worried he might have trouble like this forever.
how do i know?
because i live it.
because i live that every.single.day of my life with you.
i hear other kids your age chatting away. while my little boy is silent.
i see other kids running and skipping and hopping. while my little boy stumbles.
as this mom walked out with her son, holding him, he was silent. he made a gurgling sound to which she replied, "yes. tree. isn't that a pretty tree?"
and all i could think about was how i've been there. tried to assume something you were thinking or saying or meaning.
tried to make a small gurgle into something meaningful.
tried to make something so small into something big.
make it a milestone.
make IT make ME feel better.
and that's when it hit me. like a ton of bricks in the waiting room of therapy.
THIS ISN'T ABOUT ME.
this is about you.
this is about kids who are depending on us to give them what they need to succeed.
and while i have this tendency to push you...to hurry you over bumps in the road (both literal and figurative). while i have this urge to rush you, you don't have that in you.
i'm reminded that there is something so good in allowing these children their own success on their own timeline. not rushing things. allowing them to move at their own pace.
may i always remember to stop and smell the roses. to stop and admire a beetle on the ground. to stop and instead of just walking over the speed bump...may i take it in as my own...and walk on top of it until i get to my destination.
max, thank you for teaching your old momma so many new things. you are the light of my life. you are the reason i worry. and the reason i pray. you are the reason i am able to love so deeply.
i look forward to seeing you grow. and talk. and run. and play. and make friends.
xoxo,
momma.
today at therapy, i noticed a mother i haven't seen before.
she was blonde. and tall. thin. had a wonderful leather messenger bag. was on a really thin ipad. had some noonday jewelry. a loose fitting shirt that looked designer-ish.
is it crazy that i noticed all that? maybe. but she just seemed so put together. i think i notice that stuff because i always wish i looked that way.
no one will ever look at me and think, "wow. she's so put together."
they might think, "wow. she is totally frazzled." or "oh, bless her. look. she's still in workout clothes at 2 pm."
or even, "oh look. she has toilet paper coming out of her pants."
because yes, THAT has happened. when i was 9 months pregnant. it happened 2 days before i went into labor with pratt. in front of MEN. toilet paper i had USED. toilet paper with PEE on it.
anyway.
okay. about the time i sat down, a little boy started walking towards us in the gym. i could see that he had braces on his little ankles. he wasn't smiling. he wasn't really focused on anything at all. he was just looking ahead. sort of whining.
his physical therapist opened the gym open door, and he attempted to step up over the metal part where the door latches. he had trouble. much like you have trouble. it's your balance. lifting one foot is hard when you feel like you'll fall over.
it took him a solid minute to get both feet over.
in these 60 seconds, i could see the face of his mom.
she was pained.
because she knew it was hard for him.
and she wanted more than anything for him to do it quickly. and swiftly.
she worried he would fall.
mostly, she worried he might have trouble like this forever.
how do i know?
because i live it.
because i live that every.single.day of my life with you.
i hear other kids your age chatting away. while my little boy is silent.
i see other kids running and skipping and hopping. while my little boy stumbles.
as this mom walked out with her son, holding him, he was silent. he made a gurgling sound to which she replied, "yes. tree. isn't that a pretty tree?"
and all i could think about was how i've been there. tried to assume something you were thinking or saying or meaning.
tried to make a small gurgle into something meaningful.
tried to make something so small into something big.
make it a milestone.
make IT make ME feel better.
and that's when it hit me. like a ton of bricks in the waiting room of therapy.
THIS ISN'T ABOUT ME.
this is about you.
this is about kids who are depending on us to give them what they need to succeed.
and while i have this tendency to push you...to hurry you over bumps in the road (both literal and figurative). while i have this urge to rush you, you don't have that in you.
i'm reminded that there is something so good in allowing these children their own success on their own timeline. not rushing things. allowing them to move at their own pace.
may i always remember to stop and smell the roses. to stop and admire a beetle on the ground. to stop and instead of just walking over the speed bump...may i take it in as my own...and walk on top of it until i get to my destination.
max, thank you for teaching your old momma so many new things. you are the light of my life. you are the reason i worry. and the reason i pray. you are the reason i am able to love so deeply.
i look forward to seeing you grow. and talk. and run. and play. and make friends.
xoxo,
momma.
Monday, July 7, 2014
max.
july 7, 2014.
max is talking.
A LOT.
he says full sentences. he points and screams and laughs and jibber jabbers.
he is talking. like full on talking.
i would give examples BUT THERE ARE JUST TOO MANY TO CITE.
that is all. that's all i have to say.
speech therapy is working and we are the happiest family ever.
every child deserves a voice, y'all.
max is talking.
A LOT.
he says full sentences. he points and screams and laughs and jibber jabbers.
he is talking. like full on talking.
i would give examples BUT THERE ARE JUST TOO MANY TO CITE.
that is all. that's all i have to say.
speech therapy is working and we are the happiest family ever.
every child deserves a voice, y'all.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
growing pains.
the other day we were in the car. i had something i wanted to tell pratt, but didn't want max to hear me. we were having to drop max off at therapy and i was going to take pratt to pick out some fireworks at the firework stand. i made the mistake of telling pratt that if he was really nice in the car, and on the drive to little rock, i had a surprise for him when we got there.
that didn't work. he wanted to know right then. after denying him over and over again, i finally just said, "pratt. i am not telling you. i don't want to hurt max's feelings."
so he said, "well, then whisper it momma. i'll come up and give you my ear and you can whisper to me. then he won't hear."
that led to a discussion of why whispering was not appropriate.
and let me tell you. this isn't the first conversation on that topic. we've had many.
he knows not to point. and not to whisper.
but he apparently didn't understand why not.
so he says,
"i don't understand what is wrong with whispering."
"well. if you are whispering to someone you're leaving another person out. and that's not nice."
"yes. but this is a surprise for max. so that's okay."
"no. whispering is never okay. like if you walked in a room and saw two of your friends whispering, wouldn't you automatically think they might be talking about you!?"
"what are they saying about me?"
"well...it could be something mean. or it might not be. but you'll never know because they aren't saying it to you."
him...dead serious, straight face,
"why would any of my friends ever say mean things about me?"
when do we lose this? when do we stop loving each other with a pure, real love? and why? why does it happen?
because we get jealous? because we are envious? because we can't be happy for other people?
something goes wrong. way wrong. and i want to delay it as long as possible with these boys.
this weekend, someone laughed when he fell down and scratched his knee. i assume he cried when it happened. and the other child laughed.
he told me about it sunday. then brought it back up last night when i was putting him to bed. it really hurt him. it's a child we know. we know the child well. he's not a stranger. and pratt cannot, for the life of him, figure out why he would laugh.
i tried to tell him that we will never understand that kind of stuff. but that we just remove ourselves from it. that life is too short to spend it with people like that. because he is blessed with such good friends. ones that would never hurt him. so he listed off all those people. all the ones that would never hurt him or laugh at his pain.
the list was extensive. because he is a blessed little boy.
but after the list, we came back to the other kid. he said, "you know, maybe i should be extra nice to him. because something must be going on, momma. that's just not normal."
tears welled up in my eyes. because yes. yes, pratt. yes my child.
while he does things that make me want to pull my hair out. and while he isn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination, at this point in his life...he has such a pure heart.
and for that, i am so thankful.
that didn't work. he wanted to know right then. after denying him over and over again, i finally just said, "pratt. i am not telling you. i don't want to hurt max's feelings."
so he said, "well, then whisper it momma. i'll come up and give you my ear and you can whisper to me. then he won't hear."
that led to a discussion of why whispering was not appropriate.
and let me tell you. this isn't the first conversation on that topic. we've had many.
he knows not to point. and not to whisper.
but he apparently didn't understand why not.
so he says,
"i don't understand what is wrong with whispering."
"well. if you are whispering to someone you're leaving another person out. and that's not nice."
"yes. but this is a surprise for max. so that's okay."
"no. whispering is never okay. like if you walked in a room and saw two of your friends whispering, wouldn't you automatically think they might be talking about you!?"
"what are they saying about me?"
"well...it could be something mean. or it might not be. but you'll never know because they aren't saying it to you."
him...dead serious, straight face,
"why would any of my friends ever say mean things about me?"
when do we lose this? when do we stop loving each other with a pure, real love? and why? why does it happen?
because we get jealous? because we are envious? because we can't be happy for other people?
something goes wrong. way wrong. and i want to delay it as long as possible with these boys.
this weekend, someone laughed when he fell down and scratched his knee. i assume he cried when it happened. and the other child laughed.
he told me about it sunday. then brought it back up last night when i was putting him to bed. it really hurt him. it's a child we know. we know the child well. he's not a stranger. and pratt cannot, for the life of him, figure out why he would laugh.
i tried to tell him that we will never understand that kind of stuff. but that we just remove ourselves from it. that life is too short to spend it with people like that. because he is blessed with such good friends. ones that would never hurt him. so he listed off all those people. all the ones that would never hurt him or laugh at his pain.
the list was extensive. because he is a blessed little boy.
but after the list, we came back to the other kid. he said, "you know, maybe i should be extra nice to him. because something must be going on, momma. that's just not normal."
tears welled up in my eyes. because yes. yes, pratt. yes my child.
while he does things that make me want to pull my hair out. and while he isn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination, at this point in his life...he has such a pure heart.
and for that, i am so thankful.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
dear boys.
dear boys,
i came across the following quote from bob goff the other day. and i just had to share it and my thoughts with you two about it.
we won't be like jesus if it's more important to us to be like each other.
yes!? right!? are you fist pumping? or is that not cool anymore?
but seriously.
i just love it. and all that it means. all that it encompasses.
now. to discuss wanting to be like other people. we've talked about that before. like here. but i want to expand on this idea for a minute.
it's hard. it's hard not to want to be like someone else. it's hard not to want to have what other people have. it's hard not to be jealous. but the sooner you learn to appreciate your fellow man...your friend...your neighbor, the faster your life takes on real meaning.
when i was in graduate school for my masters, i took several psychology classes. one of my favorite topics was self-actualization. it was so intriguing.
look it up and see what you think. but for a really short, concise, dumbed down definition...then think of it this way.
as a human being, once you have your basic human needs met (like food, shelter, warmth, security, etc) you are free and able to fully realize your potential...and your "true self". it is "growth motivated more than deficiency motivated".
now. let's add to that.
here's how i think of it.
when you become self actualized, in my mind...you become more like Jesus.
the characteristics...the traits, you once saw in other people and coveted....that's no longer the case. you see these things now and you appreciate them.
instead of being jealous, you become proud.
for them.
and of them.
you become a cheerleader for your friends.
and you know what this does?
it makes them happy.
and it makes you happy.
and it creates love in YOU for THEM.
and it creates love in THEM for YOU.
and this is cyclic.
and only good comes out of it.
you are putting love out there.
and it's coming right back to you. at you.
and i cannot think of a better way to live than fully. and lovingly.
so when you're tempted to be jealous. when you're tempted to think you aren't enough, remember that you are. that you were MADE TO BE ENOUGH. and all you must do is look around and realize the beauty that exists in people. and be proud that you're big enough and smart enough to realize this.
life is beautiful.
never forget that.
xoxo,
mommy.
ps. here is a great picture of a pathway to self-actualization. it's you boys doing some yoga.
i came across the following quote from bob goff the other day. and i just had to share it and my thoughts with you two about it.
we won't be like jesus if it's more important to us to be like each other.
yes!? right!? are you fist pumping? or is that not cool anymore?
but seriously.
i just love it. and all that it means. all that it encompasses.
now. to discuss wanting to be like other people. we've talked about that before. like here. but i want to expand on this idea for a minute.
it's hard. it's hard not to want to be like someone else. it's hard not to want to have what other people have. it's hard not to be jealous. but the sooner you learn to appreciate your fellow man...your friend...your neighbor, the faster your life takes on real meaning.
when i was in graduate school for my masters, i took several psychology classes. one of my favorite topics was self-actualization. it was so intriguing.
look it up and see what you think. but for a really short, concise, dumbed down definition...then think of it this way.
as a human being, once you have your basic human needs met (like food, shelter, warmth, security, etc) you are free and able to fully realize your potential...and your "true self". it is "growth motivated more than deficiency motivated".
now. let's add to that.
here's how i think of it.
when you become self actualized, in my mind...you become more like Jesus.
the characteristics...the traits, you once saw in other people and coveted....that's no longer the case. you see these things now and you appreciate them.
instead of being jealous, you become proud.
for them.
and of them.
you become a cheerleader for your friends.
and you know what this does?
it makes them happy.
and it makes you happy.
and it creates love in YOU for THEM.
and it creates love in THEM for YOU.
and this is cyclic.
and only good comes out of it.
you are putting love out there.
and it's coming right back to you. at you.
and i cannot think of a better way to live than fully. and lovingly.
so when you're tempted to be jealous. when you're tempted to think you aren't enough, remember that you are. that you were MADE TO BE ENOUGH. and all you must do is look around and realize the beauty that exists in people. and be proud that you're big enough and smart enough to realize this.
life is beautiful.
never forget that.
xoxo,
mommy.
ps. here is a great picture of a pathway to self-actualization. it's you boys doing some yoga.
Monday, June 2, 2014
corrie.
one of my sister's closest friends is dying. of cancer.
cancer that started in her breasts and spread to her brain.
she's 35. with two kids. ages 4 and 2. and a husband. and parents and a sister. and countless friends.
and as jason isbell says, she's dying alone. even surrounded by so many who love her, this is all on her. it's her death. she's walking it alone. countless people can be holding on to her physically, but there isn't a damn thing anyone can do for her. nothing to keep her here.
and so all this talk about death. and finality, its got me thinking.
as cliche as it sounds...and as cliche as it is, life is short. and goes by in what seems and feels like the blink of an eye.
we are only here for so long. before poof. we're gone. and everything that was ours is no longer ours.
i've thought so much in the last two days about what i need to learn from this. i'm at a point in my life where i honest to goodness, attempt to learn from every situation. because knowledge is power. and making the same mistake is horrible. and so i'm trying really, really hard to take in what's around me, and learn from it. so much so that i can feel it in my bones.
i don't know what else to say. i'm just looking for some peace through this outlet.
sorry for the depressing post. pray for corrie. and her family.
xoxo.
cancer that started in her breasts and spread to her brain.
she's 35. with two kids. ages 4 and 2. and a husband. and parents and a sister. and countless friends.
and as jason isbell says, she's dying alone. even surrounded by so many who love her, this is all on her. it's her death. she's walking it alone. countless people can be holding on to her physically, but there isn't a damn thing anyone can do for her. nothing to keep her here.
and so all this talk about death. and finality, its got me thinking.
as cliche as it sounds...and as cliche as it is, life is short. and goes by in what seems and feels like the blink of an eye.
we are only here for so long. before poof. we're gone. and everything that was ours is no longer ours.
i've thought so much in the last two days about what i need to learn from this. i'm at a point in my life where i honest to goodness, attempt to learn from every situation. because knowledge is power. and making the same mistake is horrible. and so i'm trying really, really hard to take in what's around me, and learn from it. so much so that i can feel it in my bones.
i don't know what else to say. i'm just looking for some peace through this outlet.
sorry for the depressing post. pray for corrie. and her family.
xoxo.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
willy wonka.
so.
today.
today happened.
and it's now tonight.
and i can't quit thinking about today.
and what happened.
it's still funny.
like laugh out loud funny.
so let me record it here so you'll laugh too.
we are at access. max's therapy place. he and pratt are at a little table. in the waiting room. we are waiting on his therapist. they are drinking fake tea. eating fake tea cookies. yada yada.
when pratt says in front of God and everyone (about 10 others),
mom. i need to poop. give me like....2 minutes, mom. then come check on me. i'll need you to wipe me.
okay. if you're grossed out by that, then it's obvious you don't have children. or maybe you don't have a boy.
because listen up. he is an adult. my pratt could move out and live on his own for like a month and i wouldn't worry. but let him attempt to wipe his hinny post poop...well, you've got itchy butt. and itchy butt is no good.
i won't say more. i'll just say that.
so i told him okay. that i would come check.
i sit down with max to play tea party.
one minute passes.
two minutes pass.
now trust me, i realize that he probably needs me by now. but i can't leave max alone.
about the time i head to the bathroom, max's therapist rounds the corner.
problem solved.
well. as soon as i see the therapist, another young teacher comes out of the bathroom laughing.
she looks straight at me and says,
you must be pratt's mom.
you guys. there's just no telling.
me, um. yes. oh no. what did he say. what did he do. what did he tell you?!
i'm terrified. there are just so many possibilities. they are endless.
well. i asked if he needed help. and he said you were gonna be here soon to help him wipe because he had pooped but if i could come out and tell you he's ready that would be great.
he told me you were sitting on the couch and looked just like willy wonka.
did you read that?
should you go back and read it again?
willy wonka.
you guys.
WILLY WONKA.
me: oh my gah. he said that, didn't he?!
(thinking to myself, of course he did. she DID NOT make that up)
oh yeah. he said it. and listen i couldn't wait to see what you looked like. i mean, come on!
yes.
first. willy is a man.
i am a woman.
but i've always had this fear of looking like a man.
like sometimes i see myself and think, "man. there is a man in the mirror looking back at me."
i do. i always have. maybe it's from a lack of real makeup. maybe it's because i'm crazy. whatever. my son just said i was a man. so maybe it's not crazy at all.
apparently it's my hair. my hair looks like willy wonka. the johnny depp version of him. i don't know if that's better. i don't think anything about this story is "good" so there really isn't a "better".
but i had to record it. because when he's 18 and tells me i've ruined his life about something with a girl, i'll remind him of that day he ruined any and all self confidence i had when he called me willy wonka.
day...made.
such a funny kid.
today.
today happened.
and it's now tonight.
and i can't quit thinking about today.
and what happened.
it's still funny.
like laugh out loud funny.
so let me record it here so you'll laugh too.
we are at access. max's therapy place. he and pratt are at a little table. in the waiting room. we are waiting on his therapist. they are drinking fake tea. eating fake tea cookies. yada yada.
when pratt says in front of God and everyone (about 10 others),
mom. i need to poop. give me like....2 minutes, mom. then come check on me. i'll need you to wipe me.
okay. if you're grossed out by that, then it's obvious you don't have children. or maybe you don't have a boy.
because listen up. he is an adult. my pratt could move out and live on his own for like a month and i wouldn't worry. but let him attempt to wipe his hinny post poop...well, you've got itchy butt. and itchy butt is no good.
i won't say more. i'll just say that.
so i told him okay. that i would come check.
i sit down with max to play tea party.
one minute passes.
two minutes pass.
now trust me, i realize that he probably needs me by now. but i can't leave max alone.
about the time i head to the bathroom, max's therapist rounds the corner.
problem solved.
well. as soon as i see the therapist, another young teacher comes out of the bathroom laughing.
she looks straight at me and says,
you must be pratt's mom.
you guys. there's just no telling.
me, um. yes. oh no. what did he say. what did he do. what did he tell you?!
i'm terrified. there are just so many possibilities. they are endless.
well. i asked if he needed help. and he said you were gonna be here soon to help him wipe because he had pooped but if i could come out and tell you he's ready that would be great.
he told me you were sitting on the couch and looked just like willy wonka.
did you read that?
should you go back and read it again?
willy wonka.
you guys.
WILLY WONKA.
me: oh my gah. he said that, didn't he?!
(thinking to myself, of course he did. she DID NOT make that up)
oh yeah. he said it. and listen i couldn't wait to see what you looked like. i mean, come on!
yes.
first. willy is a man.
i am a woman.
but i've always had this fear of looking like a man.
like sometimes i see myself and think, "man. there is a man in the mirror looking back at me."
i do. i always have. maybe it's from a lack of real makeup. maybe it's because i'm crazy. whatever. my son just said i was a man. so maybe it's not crazy at all.
apparently it's my hair. my hair looks like willy wonka. the johnny depp version of him. i don't know if that's better. i don't think anything about this story is "good" so there really isn't a "better".
but i had to record it. because when he's 18 and tells me i've ruined his life about something with a girl, i'll remind him of that day he ruined any and all self confidence i had when he called me willy wonka.
day...made.
such a funny kid.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
apraxia awareness day, 2014.
today is apraxia awareness day.
anyone who reads my blog knows my max was diagnosed with apraxia about a year ago. it will be a year in august, i think. i know his hearing was checked on my birthday. in august. and we got the diagnosis right after that.
first, let me say that this is NOT where you need to come to figure out if your child has childhood apraxia of speech. i'm not a speech therapist. i'm just a mom. of a child. have i read everything there is to know? probably close, yes. but still. i'm just going to give you our story. max's story. if it helps one child, one momma, one friend out there, then i've done my job.
max was born at 38 weeks. he weighed 7 pounds, 5 ounces. he was 21 inches long. easy delivery. no problems. we spent one night in the hospital. came home the next day.
day 19. max started screaming. like his face off. like i was dying. i wanted to give him up for adoption. after multiple medications for reflux (which i don't believe in) and multiple milk/formula changes, we were stuck with the old "colic" diagnosis.
and let me tell you something.
that's what it was. colic. good ole colic.
it lasted for 121 days. one day he woke up and didn't scream his face off from 8 am until 8 pm. one day it just stopped.
and on that day all the angels sang a loud hallelujah. and hannah and clint started loving each other again. but never wanted to have sex for fear that they would produce another child with colic. #truestory
anywho.
max turned into the best child ever. happy. so darn happy. and i deserved every single smile. because i almost killed him. myself. everyone around me.
i don't remember exactly when, but i noticed he was slower at milestones than pratt. but i was told by our pediatrician that kids develop differently. so whatever. but i felt something was off. i knew in my heart there was more to it.
max choked on food. A LOT. his tonsils were a 4+. meaning they touched. so we had them removed. but back up. prior to that, he had 8 ear infections in his first year of life. which prompted set #1 of tubes. we've now had 2 sets. with a total of 14 ear infections (he is 3 years old and 1 day). that's a heck of a lot of ear infections.
he had strep 6 times. so that explains the tonsillectomy.
we learned later that he chews his food differently. he stuffs his cheeks like a chipmunk. he would pocket food. and then slowly attempt to chew it and swallow it. this is why he choked a lot. (plus the gigantic tonsils DIDN'T help). he would often chew and chew. then when we would offer him a drink, he would pull all the food out to take a drink. people would comment on how gross this was. i always wanted to punch them in the face when they did this. he wasn't doing it to be gross. he was doing it because otherwise, he would have choked and not been able to breath. he could not keep food in his mouth AND take a drink at the same time. (this will make more sense later).
max didn't sit up or crawl or walk early. or even really "on time". we often called him "lazy". he would let you hold him and he didn't hold himself up at all.
i can remember grocery shopping and having to really prop him up in the buggy. because he would just slump over to one side.
he didn't babble as a baby. i thought it was because of the all the ear infections. kids babble because they hear things. he wasn't hearing jack with all those infections (i thought). so he wasn't babbling.
at 2, he had maybe 2 words he said. momma (sort of) and at (pratt, cat, ???) that was it.
he drooled. a lot. he rarely closed his mouth. he would leave it open and drool would just escape from his little lips.
he couldn't blow bubbles. he couldn't blow a whistle. his lips didn't seem "to work". he couldn't pucker up for a kiss.
he "w" sat. this means he bent his legs backwards and sat that way. i learned during pt that children sometimes sit that way because it keeps their abs from being engaged. he DID NOT walk up or down stairs. refused. he couldn't walk down an incline. he didn't walk down hills. or uphill for that matter. he never ran. or skipped. or jumped.
a lot of this was stuff i realized when we started physical therapy. he was diagnosed as low muscle tone.
now. my school psychologist background is killing me right now. because i've labelled all the things that max "can't do". or "does differently".
so let me tell you what else he did.
he tried. every single damn day, he tried. he would attempt to run. he would attempt to go up the steps. he would try. he would catch himself drooling and catch it with his hand. he would look at you with guilt. like he knew he wasn't supposed to that. like it wasn't normal.
and after a while, he seemed to give up. he became more quiet than ever before. he stopped chatting all together. he was silent. he pointed. he would take your hand and lead you where he wanted to go. but he JUST DID NOT attempt to verbalize anything.
it was heartbreaking.
around this time, he was getting speech here in our town. our speech path came to me and said she thought he had apraxia.
okay. let me say something here.
about labeling.
max HAS apraxia. just like you might know someone who HAS dyslexia. or someone who HAS autism.
they are NOT autistic. autism DOES NOT DEFINE THEM. so can we please change the way we say that. if nothing else, remember that. these things don't define these children. they are children FIRST.
(hopping off the soapbox).....
she tried to do "typical speech therapy" with him. but he wasn't progressing. and he should have been by this point. we weren't even up to a 5 word vocabulary. and he had been going to speech for several months.
so she was wonderful and basically spelled it out for me.
access school in little rock. just go. just take him and go.
so that's what we did.
we got a diagnosis.
childhood apraxia of speech. oral and verbal.
meaning his mouth didn't work properly and that his speech was affected.
we applied for TEFRA (secondary insurance for disability). we were accepted.
max started speech therapy at access. he goes 4 times a week. for an hour each day. so he gets 4 hours a week of intense speech therapy.
yesterday, on his birthday he looked at me at hallmark and said, "i hold and smell". he wanted to hold the candle and smell it.
you might think that's normal for a 3 year old.
it might be.
but listen. it is EXCEPTIONAL for my max.
because he is a rockstar.
and he has worked his tailbone off. and he WILL be talking in full sentences soon. like full sentences than ANYONE can understand. i'm sure of it.
his speech doesn't sound like the average 3 year old's speech. it's rhyming often. he drops the first syllable a lot. this is apraxia. that's common.
i'll link here a great site for more info.
again, i'm just a mom. and so my story might be different than yours.
but i'm a huge proponent of early intervention.
there was a time when clint and i would lie in bed and worry. we went through every possible diagnosis. i knew he wasn't showing signs for MR or autism. but there were times when he had blank stares. times when he looked right through me. there were and still are times when i feel he ignores me. like doesn't hear me talk.
i know now that is normal for him. i know his hatred of the vacuum cleaner is normal. and okay. he covers his ears when he hears loud sounds for a reason.
knowledge is power. i can help him because i know this stuff.
if you're worried about your baby, let me tell you something.
that's good. because it means you love them. and it means you're a good parent. don't sit on it. do something. find someone to help. find someone credible. don't accept a label. don't worry about being offensive.
you are his/her only voice. so be a good one.
if i can help, let me know.
my email is hannahfielderfulks@yahoo.com
through all of this, i know one thing is for sure.
i get more satisfaction from knowing that i've helped someone than you could ever imagine.
i still have hard days. hard nights. when i put him to sleep, i keep waiting on the night when he will say, "i love you momma". we are almost there. "love you" is there. i yearn for the day when he cups his hand over pratt's ear and whispers a secret. i pray that soon he can call my mother and talk and talk without her wondering what he is saying.
i will throat punch the first kid who makes fun of him talking. i will. i really will.
my friend joanna has said that max will change the world. that he will be very influential one day. i believe it. i'm claiming it. i know that i'll look back and laugh that i ever worried about him. that i ever worried about him talking to me. or to pratt. or to anyone else.
i am thankful God saw me fit to raise this child of His. i am thankful He thinks i'm good enough to love him and show the world how special he is.
yesterday, on his birthday, my sister sent me this text. it's beautifully written. and captures hers and max's relationship to a t. i have to share it.
"you have touched more lives in your 3 years than most do in a lifetime". i mean, are you balling your eyes out? the craziest part?! it's probably true. xoxo sugar pie. xoxo.
if nothing else, just know that if you're feeling it, i've probably felt it too. one of us has. and you're not alone in this. there is help. good help. you just have to be big enough to ask.
thanks for reading. max says thank you too.
anyone who reads my blog knows my max was diagnosed with apraxia about a year ago. it will be a year in august, i think. i know his hearing was checked on my birthday. in august. and we got the diagnosis right after that.
first, let me say that this is NOT where you need to come to figure out if your child has childhood apraxia of speech. i'm not a speech therapist. i'm just a mom. of a child. have i read everything there is to know? probably close, yes. but still. i'm just going to give you our story. max's story. if it helps one child, one momma, one friend out there, then i've done my job.
max was born at 38 weeks. he weighed 7 pounds, 5 ounces. he was 21 inches long. easy delivery. no problems. we spent one night in the hospital. came home the next day.
day 19. max started screaming. like his face off. like i was dying. i wanted to give him up for adoption. after multiple medications for reflux (which i don't believe in) and multiple milk/formula changes, we were stuck with the old "colic" diagnosis.
and let me tell you something.
that's what it was. colic. good ole colic.
it lasted for 121 days. one day he woke up and didn't scream his face off from 8 am until 8 pm. one day it just stopped.
and on that day all the angels sang a loud hallelujah. and hannah and clint started loving each other again. but never wanted to have sex for fear that they would produce another child with colic. #truestory
anywho.
max turned into the best child ever. happy. so darn happy. and i deserved every single smile. because i almost killed him. myself. everyone around me.
i don't remember exactly when, but i noticed he was slower at milestones than pratt. but i was told by our pediatrician that kids develop differently. so whatever. but i felt something was off. i knew in my heart there was more to it.
max choked on food. A LOT. his tonsils were a 4+. meaning they touched. so we had them removed. but back up. prior to that, he had 8 ear infections in his first year of life. which prompted set #1 of tubes. we've now had 2 sets. with a total of 14 ear infections (he is 3 years old and 1 day). that's a heck of a lot of ear infections.
he had strep 6 times. so that explains the tonsillectomy.
we learned later that he chews his food differently. he stuffs his cheeks like a chipmunk. he would pocket food. and then slowly attempt to chew it and swallow it. this is why he choked a lot. (plus the gigantic tonsils DIDN'T help). he would often chew and chew. then when we would offer him a drink, he would pull all the food out to take a drink. people would comment on how gross this was. i always wanted to punch them in the face when they did this. he wasn't doing it to be gross. he was doing it because otherwise, he would have choked and not been able to breath. he could not keep food in his mouth AND take a drink at the same time. (this will make more sense later).
max didn't sit up or crawl or walk early. or even really "on time". we often called him "lazy". he would let you hold him and he didn't hold himself up at all.
i can remember grocery shopping and having to really prop him up in the buggy. because he would just slump over to one side.
he didn't babble as a baby. i thought it was because of the all the ear infections. kids babble because they hear things. he wasn't hearing jack with all those infections (i thought). so he wasn't babbling.
at 2, he had maybe 2 words he said. momma (sort of) and at (pratt, cat, ???) that was it.
he drooled. a lot. he rarely closed his mouth. he would leave it open and drool would just escape from his little lips.
he couldn't blow bubbles. he couldn't blow a whistle. his lips didn't seem "to work". he couldn't pucker up for a kiss.
he "w" sat. this means he bent his legs backwards and sat that way. i learned during pt that children sometimes sit that way because it keeps their abs from being engaged. he DID NOT walk up or down stairs. refused. he couldn't walk down an incline. he didn't walk down hills. or uphill for that matter. he never ran. or skipped. or jumped.
a lot of this was stuff i realized when we started physical therapy. he was diagnosed as low muscle tone.
now. my school psychologist background is killing me right now. because i've labelled all the things that max "can't do". or "does differently".
so let me tell you what else he did.
he tried. every single damn day, he tried. he would attempt to run. he would attempt to go up the steps. he would try. he would catch himself drooling and catch it with his hand. he would look at you with guilt. like he knew he wasn't supposed to that. like it wasn't normal.
and after a while, he seemed to give up. he became more quiet than ever before. he stopped chatting all together. he was silent. he pointed. he would take your hand and lead you where he wanted to go. but he JUST DID NOT attempt to verbalize anything.
it was heartbreaking.
around this time, he was getting speech here in our town. our speech path came to me and said she thought he had apraxia.
okay. let me say something here.
about labeling.
max HAS apraxia. just like you might know someone who HAS dyslexia. or someone who HAS autism.
they are NOT autistic. autism DOES NOT DEFINE THEM. so can we please change the way we say that. if nothing else, remember that. these things don't define these children. they are children FIRST.
(hopping off the soapbox).....
she tried to do "typical speech therapy" with him. but he wasn't progressing. and he should have been by this point. we weren't even up to a 5 word vocabulary. and he had been going to speech for several months.
so she was wonderful and basically spelled it out for me.
access school in little rock. just go. just take him and go.
so that's what we did.
we got a diagnosis.
childhood apraxia of speech. oral and verbal.
meaning his mouth didn't work properly and that his speech was affected.
we applied for TEFRA (secondary insurance for disability). we were accepted.
max started speech therapy at access. he goes 4 times a week. for an hour each day. so he gets 4 hours a week of intense speech therapy.
yesterday, on his birthday he looked at me at hallmark and said, "i hold and smell". he wanted to hold the candle and smell it.
you might think that's normal for a 3 year old.
it might be.
but listen. it is EXCEPTIONAL for my max.
because he is a rockstar.
and he has worked his tailbone off. and he WILL be talking in full sentences soon. like full sentences than ANYONE can understand. i'm sure of it.
his speech doesn't sound like the average 3 year old's speech. it's rhyming often. he drops the first syllable a lot. this is apraxia. that's common.
i'll link here a great site for more info.
again, i'm just a mom. and so my story might be different than yours.
but i'm a huge proponent of early intervention.
there was a time when clint and i would lie in bed and worry. we went through every possible diagnosis. i knew he wasn't showing signs for MR or autism. but there were times when he had blank stares. times when he looked right through me. there were and still are times when i feel he ignores me. like doesn't hear me talk.
i know now that is normal for him. i know his hatred of the vacuum cleaner is normal. and okay. he covers his ears when he hears loud sounds for a reason.
knowledge is power. i can help him because i know this stuff.
if you're worried about your baby, let me tell you something.
that's good. because it means you love them. and it means you're a good parent. don't sit on it. do something. find someone to help. find someone credible. don't accept a label. don't worry about being offensive.
you are his/her only voice. so be a good one.
if i can help, let me know.
my email is hannahfielderfulks@yahoo.com
through all of this, i know one thing is for sure.
i get more satisfaction from knowing that i've helped someone than you could ever imagine.
i still have hard days. hard nights. when i put him to sleep, i keep waiting on the night when he will say, "i love you momma". we are almost there. "love you" is there. i yearn for the day when he cups his hand over pratt's ear and whispers a secret. i pray that soon he can call my mother and talk and talk without her wondering what he is saying.
i will throat punch the first kid who makes fun of him talking. i will. i really will.
my friend joanna has said that max will change the world. that he will be very influential one day. i believe it. i'm claiming it. i know that i'll look back and laugh that i ever worried about him. that i ever worried about him talking to me. or to pratt. or to anyone else.
i am thankful God saw me fit to raise this child of His. i am thankful He thinks i'm good enough to love him and show the world how special he is.
yesterday, on his birthday, my sister sent me this text. it's beautifully written. and captures hers and max's relationship to a t. i have to share it.
"you have touched more lives in your 3 years than most do in a lifetime". i mean, are you balling your eyes out? the craziest part?! it's probably true. xoxo sugar pie. xoxo.
if nothing else, just know that if you're feeling it, i've probably felt it too. one of us has. and you're not alone in this. there is help. good help. you just have to be big enough to ask.
thanks for reading. max says thank you too.
Monday, May 12, 2014
dear boys.
dear boys,
sugar has a friend who is losing a battle with cancer. she has fought and fought. and it's just taking over. and it has gotten me thinking about how we never know how long we have here. and i could go to heaven tomorrow. or today. or in the next five minutes. we just don't know.
and so i know this is trite and maybe silly. but i feel like in my 34 years i've learned a few things. things that if you'll pay attention to early...you'll have an easier life than me.
so take this advice to heart. okay? okay. thank you.
there will be things in your life you think you JUST HAVE TO HAVE.
like let's start with now.
toys. fish. turtles. frogs. lizards. new light up shoes. new bikes. cool shirts at target. dollar store stuff. mcdonalds happy meal toys.
i could go on and on. as you get older, it will change. you'll want a certain type of four wheeler. or a car. or you'll want the new sneakers all the cool kids are wearing. you'll want to be friends with certain kids. or to go to a certain college. or to get into a certain fraternity. and on and on and on.
and while those things will seem of the utmost importance, one day you'll look back and realize they were just that. they were things. not tangible. not lasting. they didn't do anything to really make or keep you happy.
there will be things about yourself you wish you could change. like maybe your name. or the way you look. or the way you think. or act. or feel.
i know this so well. my prayer has always been that because you are boys, you won't struggle with this like i did. so let me tell you this. about girls. be kind to them. no matter who they are. being a girl is hard. we often look at ourselves and wish we were different. some of this is internal. not anyone's fault. but some of it too is probably because we've heard someone compare us to someone else.
so don't ever compare. don't compare yourself. and don't compare your friends.
we were all made how God saw fit. we are perfect in His sight. remember that.
so that's a lot. but i have good news. i have learned a few things along this path of mine. and so here is what i know.
about happiness...
happiness comes from helping others. happiness comes from being in a position where you CAN help others.
jen hatmaker (you don't know her now, but surely by the time you read this, she and i will be best friends and so you'll be all, "oh jen. yeah mom...jen") says that the purpose of life has to be measured by a truth plumb line. and that is this, "if it is true for a single mother in haiti, then it's true for me".
so. what's the meaning or the purpose of life?
money? making money? having enough money?
no. because that's not what a single mother in haiti is doing. she's not making money. she's not buying ridiculous things.
a house? a big, gigantic house?
no. of course not. RIDICULOUS.
a good job?
no. back to the mom. is she working at some important job? probably she's not climbing the corporate ladder.
an education?
children?
being a parent?
no.no.no.
you know what it is?
our purpose in life is to be loved by God. to be loved. and to turn around and love right back. love those who aren't loved. love those who seem unlovable.
and in doing so, we show the love of God. and we draw them in. and we introduce them to our Jesus. the Jesus who loves and forgives. the Jesus who has an easy yoke.
and we love. and we are loved. and we are happy.
see how easy that is?
it seems like it. and i think most of the time it is.
but here's the trick.
you have to find someone else who feels this way.
someone else who thinks that this is where happiness comes from.
your daddy does. and i do. and so it works. i got lucky.
i don't know who you boys will marry. but whoever that is, please make sure they believe this too. because it's a long, hard path doing it alone.
so in review.
do something that makes you happy. your talents will carry you wherever you wish to go -- but choose a path that helps others, and your own happiness will be assured.
you know who said that to me? pop pop. in a letter dated, may
5, 2001. a letter he wrote me on the day i graduated from college. he's a smart man.
live by that and you'll know true happiness. and you'll love. and you'll be loved.
and boys, there is just nothing better.
i love you both so, so much.
xoxo,
your momma.
sugar has a friend who is losing a battle with cancer. she has fought and fought. and it's just taking over. and it has gotten me thinking about how we never know how long we have here. and i could go to heaven tomorrow. or today. or in the next five minutes. we just don't know.
and so i know this is trite and maybe silly. but i feel like in my 34 years i've learned a few things. things that if you'll pay attention to early...you'll have an easier life than me.
so take this advice to heart. okay? okay. thank you.
there will be things in your life you think you JUST HAVE TO HAVE.
like let's start with now.
toys. fish. turtles. frogs. lizards. new light up shoes. new bikes. cool shirts at target. dollar store stuff. mcdonalds happy meal toys.
i could go on and on. as you get older, it will change. you'll want a certain type of four wheeler. or a car. or you'll want the new sneakers all the cool kids are wearing. you'll want to be friends with certain kids. or to go to a certain college. or to get into a certain fraternity. and on and on and on.
and while those things will seem of the utmost importance, one day you'll look back and realize they were just that. they were things. not tangible. not lasting. they didn't do anything to really make or keep you happy.
there will be things about yourself you wish you could change. like maybe your name. or the way you look. or the way you think. or act. or feel.
i know this so well. my prayer has always been that because you are boys, you won't struggle with this like i did. so let me tell you this. about girls. be kind to them. no matter who they are. being a girl is hard. we often look at ourselves and wish we were different. some of this is internal. not anyone's fault. but some of it too is probably because we've heard someone compare us to someone else.
so don't ever compare. don't compare yourself. and don't compare your friends.
we were all made how God saw fit. we are perfect in His sight. remember that.
so that's a lot. but i have good news. i have learned a few things along this path of mine. and so here is what i know.
about happiness...
happiness comes from helping others. happiness comes from being in a position where you CAN help others.
jen hatmaker (you don't know her now, but surely by the time you read this, she and i will be best friends and so you'll be all, "oh jen. yeah mom...jen") says that the purpose of life has to be measured by a truth plumb line. and that is this, "if it is true for a single mother in haiti, then it's true for me".
so. what's the meaning or the purpose of life?
money? making money? having enough money?
no. because that's not what a single mother in haiti is doing. she's not making money. she's not buying ridiculous things.
a house? a big, gigantic house?
no. of course not. RIDICULOUS.
a good job?
no. back to the mom. is she working at some important job? probably she's not climbing the corporate ladder.
an education?
children?
being a parent?
no.no.no.
you know what it is?
our purpose in life is to be loved by God. to be loved. and to turn around and love right back. love those who aren't loved. love those who seem unlovable.
and in doing so, we show the love of God. and we draw them in. and we introduce them to our Jesus. the Jesus who loves and forgives. the Jesus who has an easy yoke.
and we love. and we are loved. and we are happy.
see how easy that is?
it seems like it. and i think most of the time it is.
but here's the trick.
you have to find someone else who feels this way.
someone else who thinks that this is where happiness comes from.
your daddy does. and i do. and so it works. i got lucky.
i don't know who you boys will marry. but whoever that is, please make sure they believe this too. because it's a long, hard path doing it alone.
so in review.
do something that makes you happy. your talents will carry you wherever you wish to go -- but choose a path that helps others, and your own happiness will be assured.
you know who said that to me? pop pop. in a letter dated, may
5, 2001. a letter he wrote me on the day i graduated from college. he's a smart man.
live by that and you'll know true happiness. and you'll love. and you'll be loved.
and boys, there is just nothing better.
i love you both so, so much.
xoxo,
your momma.
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About Me
- hannah
- i'm a girl who likes to write. not a girl that's necessarily good at writing. it's cathartic, i think. and boy do i need that from time to time. i married a wonderful man named clint in may of 2007. he is everything i am not. he is calm. he makes plans. he is organized. his truck is always clean. his clothes are hung by types of shirt/color/size/etc. i'm full of nervous energy. i'm spur of the moment. i can't ever find what i'm looking for. we live in my car...pretty much. i'm lucky if my clothes are within ten feet of my closet. God gave us a precious angel of a baby in september of 2008. his name is pratt allen. he is 2.5 years old.we have another little one on the way. his name is max wesley. and he is due may 19th. somehow i'll be the mother of two boys. craaaaa.zy. i spend my days cleaning house. picking worms and caterpillars out of the flower beds. cooking meals. shopping at target. washing clothes. playing on the floor. reading books. doing puzzles. traveling to sonic. and the library. and blogging. i hope you enjoy our blog. feel free to leave a comment. hopefully it's a nice one. i tend to wear my heart on my sleeve.