sandman.

the other night i was singing max to sleep.

sandman.

it's a song someone used to sing me when i was little.  her name was joyce.  she was like my grandmother.  my maternal grandmother died when i was really young.  like 3.  my father's mother had alzheimers.  and so my interaction with her was limited.  she moved away and wasn't really ever a consistent and present force in my life.

but joyce was.

she would put spencer and i to sleep and sing that song to us as many times as we wanted.


there is a part in the song that goes, "he'll come down from the sky and put sand in your eyes".  and as you sing this, you run your fingers ever so gently over their closed eyes.  it's so relaxing.  and it always puts the boys to sleep.

so i'm sitting there singing to max..three times.  he's sound asleep.  but as i get up from the bed, he wakes.  opens one eye, and says, "i love you, momma.  thank you.  thank you, momma."

i put my face right next to his as i have done so many times and closed my eyes and just thanked God for him.  for his sweet and gentle spirit.  for the love he has for me.  for his words.  for his quiet.  for everything about him.

when i sat up, he had fallen asleep again.

as i crawled into my bed, it occurred to me that should he ever get away from me, should he ever get lost, he would have no way of communicating who i was.  who he was.  where we lived.  that he has childhood apraxia of speech.

after getting up and checking every window in our house.  making sure they were all locked.  then making sure the alarm was set and all the doors were locked, i seriously contemplated locking the boys in their room.  then of course i feared that someone would break in their windows and kidnap them that way.

it's crazy town over here, y'all.  CRAZY.TOWN.

after talking myself off the ledge, i googled kidnapping stats and did feel better until i realized that i didn't know anyone who had been kidnapped and so i immediately realized that probably meant there was a better shot at it being one of my kids.  i was frantic.  worried.  sick to my stomach.  it was then i remembered maud crawford.   oh yeah.  i DO know someone.  and just like that, i was a bit relieved.

all that to say, i am crazy.

but also, that i need to get him some type of id bracelet.  that he can wear.  all the time.  that will tell people our names and numbers.  and his name.

i have spent the last 20 minutes searching for one.

i've personalized 2 or 3.  but when it comes time to purchase it, i hesitate.  i think that actually purchasing one will jinx something.  cause something to happen.  make something worse.

there are days when i fully accept being the mom of a kid who needs a little extra attention.  a little extra help.  assistance.  the mom who is always hanging back...waiting on him to catch up.  the mom who has to explain to strangers why yes, he's 4 but doesn't sound like a 4 year old.

and then there are days when i just wish normalcy.  days where i'm not speaking for him. days when i'm not prompting him to say hello.  days when i'm not googling id bracelets for my 4 year old.

i've taken lots of deep breaths.  and i've cried lots of tears.

but we are healthy.  and we are happy.  and we are thriving and growing and progressing.  and those are all good things.

if you're struggling today, know you're not alone.  some of us seem to struggle in silence.  and then some of us...our struggle is evident to anyone within a 15 foot proximity.  that is me.  i'm loud and obnoxious.  and i own it.  it's just how i deal.

i think there is beauty in admittance.  i think there is relief and acceptance and growth.  i cannot imagine hiding my heart.  my worries.  my fears.  that doesn't make sense to me.  just as it doesn't make sense to hide my joy.  my happiness.  i would be miserable.  simply miserable.

so.  all that to say,
go teach your kids their names.  and your names.  and your cell numbers.  just in case.

success.

endings make me sentimental.

beginnings do too.

if i'm honest, i would probably admit that i'm sentimental ninety percent of the time.  of any time.  at any point, i'm minutes away from crying.  they could be happy tears.  or they could be total ugly cry, break down, i'm not gonna make it tears.

and so the beginning of this school year has me thinking.  and i spend a lot of time in the car.  and that's my thinking time.

and so i've been thinking about max.

and about how far he's come in a year.

my daddy commented on how confident he seemed in the back to school picture i took of he and pratt yesterday.

this morning clint sent me the picture he took of max a year ago...on his first day of school.

and it's incredible.

he was a baby.

he was unsure.  and nervous.  and so scared.

and then today...today he is the new kid.  this confident, strong willed kid.

max has done so much for me. he's taught me more in his 4 years of life than i have honestly learned in the 32 years before his birth.

this isn't new.  i tell people this all the time.  you've probably been on the receiving end of it.  he's taught me to slow down.  to be quiet and listen.  to do things in new ways.  he's taught me to take deep breaths.  to pray before my feet touch the floor in the morning.  to trust in my gut...in my intuition.

most of all though, he's taught me to re-evaluate my definition of success.

prior to him, my success as a parent was dependent upon a few things.  like...

did they get a job?
did they get married?
did they have kids?
do they have a bank account?
a savings account?
an emergency account?

all the first world things we worry about.

max changed all that.

he came in...in a storm of colic and screaming and cries...and he flipped my whole world upside down.

all that is great, yeah.  and that is expected of some, probably even most of us.  right?  yes.  i mean, if left on my own, i'd be at my parent's house.  but i married a man who, i don't even know.  he's the best.  and so i don't worry about anything big.  i really don't worry about anything at all because i'm spoiled.  but i'm off track at this point.

i mean, i want those things for pratt.  and for max, too.  i wan them to have jobs.  good jobs.  an emergency account.  i don't want a busted up water heater...and a new one that costs 4000 dollars to be the reason they lose it.

but their success, their level of intelligence will have nothing to do with where they rank in school.  with how much debt they accumulate starting in college.  with how many titles are placed behind their names.

i used to think that having a child who needed you for the rest of his life...be it because of a disability...because of a disorder...or whatever...i thought that was terrifying.  and scary.  and something i never could deal with.

i was wrong.

if max never sounds like your kid...if he never has the confidence to speak in front of other people...to have a "regular" job, i will turn one of these rooms into an office for him.  the mancave can be his apartment. i'll stock it weekly with popcorn and gummy bears and redbox rentals.  i'll do his laundry.  i'll give him an allowance.  i'll do whatever i have to to make sure he's okay. and happy.  because that's all i want for him.

obviously, in my dream world...he will be fine.  he will sound like i do.  and he won't be made fun of. he won't cry when i leave him in public school. he won't beg me to protect him from bullies.

but all of this has just reminded me that success is more than i ever thought.  it's about taking a lot of small steps.  it's moving in the right direction no matter how long we have to move.  no matter how many steps we have to take.

it's never stopping.  never giving up.   it's about hard work that doesn't always end up with stacks of cash.

it's about being kind to others.  putting others needs before your own.

and the good news is that anyone and everyone can do it.

i know that my max can.  i see it happen every day with his brother.

life is hard.  so hard sometimes.

but then there are days when things make sense.  and the battle seems smaller than i had anticipated.  it's those days i feel strong and capable.

today is one of those days.  my prayer is that you have that day too.

first day jitters.

i took this picture on august 12th.  that was the day we met pratt's kindergarten teacher.

i knew, as soon as i looked at the camera screen, that it was all okay.
that i could stop worrying.  i could stop praying we would get a good teacher.

i knew, with one hundred percent certainty, that pratt was in good hands.  wonderful hands.

so.

here we are.

one year later.

so many changes.

that boy can read.  like really read.  he can sound out any word.  and say it.  he can add and subtract.  he can even multiply but he doesn't know that's what he's doing.

he's grown 2 sizes.  4 shoe sizes.  he's lost 7 teeth since that picture was taken.

he's somehow even more self confident.  he's funny.  and charming.  and thoughtful.

he can get to the library and computer lab and lunchroom without getting lost.  he could get to the nurse's station in his sleep (she's pretty. and he had lots and lots of "tummy aches").

he loves learning.  and he is excited about first grade.

so much of this...90 percent of this is because of that teacher right there.

she was patient.  and kind.  WITH ALL OF THE STUDENTS.

she was fair.  and private.  and never divulged anything she shouldn't have.

she was organized.  she sent notes home telling us what she was doing, what they were doing.  and what we could do here to help.  and she followed through.  ALL YEAR LONG.  i don't even know, man.  she's like a unicorn.

she was present.  all the time.

and somehow, in that room of 20 kindergarteners, she was soft spoken.  consistent.

he loved her.

he still loves her.  he always will.

so i write to those of you who are letting your children fly in two weeks.  those of you who were like me and just knew that it was good...but it was so dang hard.  those of you who will walk those babies in.  and leave them at their desks.  you'll smile and act like all your shit is together.

but it's not.

it's just not.  and that's okay.

i can still remember walking in with him.  him smiling.  me smiling at him.  and waving.

i knew he was okay.

but i had never left him in a new place for that long.

7 hours.

i can close my eyes and see him looking at me as i walked out.  i forced myself not to cry.  i forced myself to be strong.  because i knew he was watching me. and if i'm honest, i knew i would be stalking him on the playground that day.  and so i would see him again before 3 pm.

twice before 3 pm if i'm totally honest.  and don't judge.  you wait and see.  that will be you too.

does it hurt to leave them?
yes.

but as so many of you told me about max, our joy is what they see.

and i know that's what we all want.  to be good, joyful parents.  even when that means walking away. and trusting our schools.  and our teachers.

hopefully, you, like me, know that you can trust them.  because that's what makes it so easy.

and if there is one thing i know after a full year of kindergarten...it is this.

support your teachers.  and your school.  and the principals and office staff.  the cafeteria workers.  support your parent teacher organization.  offer to help.  to help with class parties.  and with extra school supplies.  if you're in a position to do that, try to make it happen.

and more than anything else, remember that leaving them means they are growing.  which means they are thriving.  they are healthy.  they are learning and loving and finding their voice.

they won't be babies forever.  and we shouldn't want that.  we should want them to grow and learn and change.  that doesn't mean they aren't still ours.  that just means life goes on.  and the opposite of that is just no good.  so learn...figure out some way to be okay with it.

more than just okay.  figure out some way to be joyful.

happy first day.

go feel all the feelings.  because there are so many.

eight years. eight, whole years.

in four days, i will have been married to my husband for eight whole years. 

i remember standing there, in front of those preachers….waiting to get started with the wedding.  i remember feeling his hand in mine, his thin fingers grasping my own.

there was something magical about knowing he was next to me.  that he would always be next to me.

i knew that i was comfortable with him. 

i knew that i was safe. safe from everything.  

i knew that he would love me through it all. 

i knew we had been counseled on most things you can think of.  (all things, in reality.  ALL THINGS). 

i remember feeling so calm.  in front of all those people.  so calm that i tilted my head to the right and placed it on his shoulder.  and let out a big sigh. 

because all the preparation that had gone into that special day (and there was a ton from my mom’s best friends)….it was all done.  it was all happening. 

all was right with the world.

while i had ideas about what i wanted (hydrangeas everywhere), i knew that the day didn’t matter.  i knew that it was about the forever.  

about the tomorrow.  

and the next day.  

and the day that we would inevitably receive bad news.  

the day we would argue.  

the day someone would slam the door.  (but no one leaves.  we have a rule.  you can’t leave.  you have to stay in the house and just get over it.  leaving is scary.  so there’s none of that.)

i had no idea what was in store for us.

i didn’t know that years later, we would face real life.  a new baby in the NICU.. horrible, severe post partum (twice).  colic fest 2011.  anxiety, worry.   fear.  crap I never wanted to deal with. 

but you know what?

i would do it all again in a heartbeat. 

is it tough sometimes?  hell yes.  

do i get mad at him?  duh. 

does he roll his eyes at me?  um, have you met me?

but at the end of the day, he is all mine.  and for that, i’m so thankful.  isn’t that romantic?  i think so.  i think it’s so great to know that i’m the only one who really gets to know him.  no one else.  not even andy fisher.  (who i swear he loves as much as me.)

i don’t pretend to have done anything to deserve him.  i don’t know how i got him. he’s not perfect.  and neither am i.  but so often, i feel that we are perfect for each other.  what he lacks, i have.  all my missing pieces…he fills them quite nicely.

if you’re in a relationship and you’re questioning whether he’s the one, let me say this. 

i never questioned it.

i never doubted it.  i knew.  without any hesitation.  when he asked my dad for his permission to ask me to marry him, he said, “i’m ready to put her first”. 

if he’s not willing to do that….find someone who is.  

life is hard.  it always will be.  and if you aren’t ready to put him first…and he’s not ready to put you first, the road will be more difficult than it should be.

shit is gonna happen.

your children will be diagnosed with disorders you’ve never even heard of.  friends will walk away.  life won’t make sense.

trust me when i say you need someone there to help you attempt to pick up the pieces…someone who will help make sense of the nonsense.

before we got married, we read through several books on marriage.  i remember talking one night and him saying that we always needed to imagine life as a triangle.  that i was one one side, he was on the other.  and God was at the top.  as long as we were both moving towards God, we would also be moving toward each other.  isn’t that great?  i always think of that when i want to cuss him for not putting the newspaper in the recycle bin. 

clint, if you’re reading this…thank you. 

thank you for loving me.  for still thinking i'm the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.  for making me feel important.  for seeing me for who I really am.  and for loving that person.  that silly, flawed girl who came to you probably more broken than you had wished.   

i love you back.  with all that I have.  and all that I am.

happy eight years. 

here’s to eight hundred more. 

seasons.

last night i was reminded of max's first 4 months of life.

and in case you don't know...and you're new to this blog.  um.  max cried (read: screamed) for 125 days.  from day 21 to day whatever 21 plus 125 is.

i'm serious.

ask anyone.

screamed his dang face off.

that's what he did last night too.

started at midnight.  12:05 is what my fitbit says.  i thought he screamed for me because he needed to go potty.  that sometimes happens.

but no.  i went in to him and he was screaming.  crying.

clint and i both went over everything we knew.

is it your bottom?  do you need to potty?  is it your belly?  your throat?  nose?  head?  is it growing pains?  do your legs hurt?

we never got an answer.  but we could hear he was struggling to breathe.

he can't blow his nose.  never has been able to. it's either a palate issue.  or a hypotonia issue. i'm not sure which.

we used a warm cloth to wash off what we could.  but that just made him mad.  he finally fell asleep on me.  only to wake 30 minutes later screaming louder than before.

he did this all night.  about every 30 minutes he would scream out.  i assume because he woke and realized he couldn't breath.

because of the apraxia...and because he can't fully express himself to where we can understand, i still am not sure that's all that's wrong.

but we've used the nose frida three times.  and i've rubbed all kinds of oils on him.  and i'm thinking it's allergies and a lack of being able to blow his nose.

as frustrating as this is, i'm reminded that he's healthy.  and here.  in my arms.  and that no matter how many times i have to suction his nose, it's okay.  because that's what i'm supposed to do.

we had four 7th grade boys over the weekend.  for a confirmation weekend with our church.  as we were doing a devotion with them, we started talking about spiritual gifts.

i had no idea what my spiritual gift was when i was in the 7th grade.  i don't think i knew until now.  maybe this past year.

it wasn't until recently i knew a lot about myself.

i know what i like.  what i don't like.  i know what i'll stand for and fight for.  i know what hurts me.  and what makes me happy.

i know that God made me to be a mom.  i know that God gave us apraxia so that we could go out and make the journey easier for someone else.

i know that one day, my max will stand before a big group and he will speak.  and it will be clear.  and precise.  and well thought out.

i know that on that day, i'll be the proudest i have ever been.  i hope that someone has a video camera because i'll be a crying, blubbering idiot and won't see anything.

with each day that i'm handed something that reminds me of the apraxia, or the palate issues, or the hypotonia...i remember that it's gonna be okay.  and that i will get through it.  and that he will prevail.

i know that this won't be our biggest obstacle in life.  i know that something will be larger and harder and worse.  and i know that i will be reminded of this season.  when my 3, almost 4 year old couldn't tell me what was wrong.

if you're here too, if you're feeling lost or frustrated or worried about something you can't control, you're not alone.  i try so hard to not worry about things i have no control over.  it's hard.  but it's necessary.

life is good.  even in these seasons.  especially in these seasons.  because this is when we grow.  and don't we all want to grow?

xxoo.

dear pratt.

my dearest pratt,

in less than five months, you'll turn seven years old.

SEVEN.

that's three away from TEN.  that's double digits.  that will be on a thursday.  and we will need to not be at school that day.  because that day, i'll need ALL THE OILS rubbed on me.  i don't know how i'll get through it.

heck.  i don't know how i'll get through this upcoming day of birth.

seven.

how did it even happen?

i realized that i haven't written you in a while.  and so i wanted to fix it.

i think a simple story can tell so much.  and so i'll share a recent one.  you know, to sort of capture this time. this time in history.  to capture what is going on here.

you left friday to go spend the night with someone.  when max saw your bag packed, he immediately knew what was happening.

so he ran upstairs, pulled out his trunki and packed his own bag.

he filled it with the following: Blue.  pajama pants.  a batman shirt.  ONE flip flop.  ONE cowboy boot.  his toothbrush.  your cologne.  a washcloth. and his blanket.

he didn't even get it closed properly before he was hurling it down the stairs.

by the time he had gotten to the garage, you had left.

he started hollering your name.  as loud as his little voice would get.

but you were gone.

and he knew it.  and he completely and totally broke down.  instead of sitting on the ground, he plopped down on that cracked open trunki and cried.  huge, wet crocodile tears.

i ran to him and he kept saying, "i go att, mom.  i go att."

it was heartbreaking.

i carried him (and his random assortment trunki) inside.  and we sat and rocked in daddy's chair for a long, long time.  his head rested on my shoulder and he cried.

i know that you won't understand this until you have children of your own, but pratt..max's reaction to you leaving is SUCH a huge testament to your love for him.

i struggle so often with how much i put on you.  sunday on the way to cole's birthday i asked you to watch out for him.  to protect him.  and you said, "you don't have to tell me, mom.  you know i always just do that. i won't let anyone do anything to him.  he's safe with me."

you are patient with him.  you are kind.  you don't treat him any differently.  you understand him.  you know him well.  you love him.

thank you for the brother you are.  thank you for the son you are.

thank you for loving me.  and for always telling me.  thank you for letting me hold your hand in public.  thank you for giving me kisses every, single night before bed.

thank you for trusting me with your feelings. and your fears.  and your good days and bad.

i love you more than you love cereal.

xxoo.
momma.

words.

i like to go to sleep before clint does.

there is comfort in that for me.  i like knowing he's there.  i like watching him read as my eyes drift off to sleep.

i'm not a touchy sleeper...you know, it's not like the movies at my house.  we don't tangle up with each other and fall asleep.  i need space.  i often flip my pillow for the cool side. i like being on my tummy but then i like to be on my side too.  i need room.  lots of room.  he would say the same thing.

but i also want to be close to him when i sleep.  i want to know he's there.

so often, i'll slip my hand underneath him.  right under his back.  and i'll leave it there.  and fall asleep.

last night, i knew he was getting tired.  so i turned off my mad men episode and rolled over to face him.

and as i looked up, i saw him. with his glasses on.  reading.  i stared at the outline of his face.  his chin.  his beard.  and his soft, kind eyes.  i looked at his hands.  how tan they always are.  when i see his hands, i'm always reminded of the countless ways he uses them daily.  he creates the most beautiful things with them.  that is never lost on me.

about the time i got comfortable, he closed his book.  folded his hands over it.  and closed his eyes.

i didn't say anything.  because i assumed he was praying.  and i didn't want words to interrupt it.

i watched for a few seconds before i closed my own eyes and prayed too.

the blessing that he is to me...it's never lost on me.  i get mad at him.  i get frustrated when he doesn't put the empty milk carton in the recycle bin...but i don't ever stay frustrated with him.

what he is...and what he will always be to me comforts me when i most need it.  he has been my voice of reason for over ten years now.

i know he will always love me.  i know he will always love the boys.  i know he will always work for us to have what we need.  i know he will always put me first.

i saw a post on Facebook today.  with a quote.  the quote was this...

be careful with your words. once they are said, they can only be forgiven...not forgotten.

isn't that so good?

i read it and immediately thought of my husband.   he is lucky enough to see me at my best...and kind enough to see me at my worst.

he gets me at the end of the day.  when i'm tired.  when i have no patience left.  when the smallest of things will set me off.

and yet, yet i know he's not going anywhere.  i know, God willing, we will grow old together.  i know that i'll be sticking my arthritic hand under his back when we are 90 years old.

there was a time when i didn't know i would ever have that confidence.  i have never been anything but myself with him.  i remember a time before him.  i remember trying desperately to be something i wasn't.

it is never worth it.  it's never worth losing yourself...your true self...to make someone else happy.  because in the end, it will all fall apart.

clint, if you're reading this.
i love you.
and i'm so thankful you love me too.

dear max.

dear max,

i'm writing because i don't want to forget this week.

it's your first official spring break.  you, pratt, cookie, sugar and liza (and of course me)...we all went to dallas to see frozen on ice.

we did a few other things as well.  we had dinner.  we shopped at ikea.  we played at a little neighborhood park.

but those aren't the things i want to talk about.

i want to talk about you.  about how impressed i was with you.

when i close my eyes, i can see you.  sitting on that sleeper sofa.  i can see you with your little plaid shirt on.  buttoned up to the top.  i can see you sitting there, with your chin down.  fingers working so diligently to unbutton your shirt.  cookie tried to help but you adamantly told her no.  and pressed on.

the whole world went on around you.  no one stopped what they were doing to watch.  it just kept spinning.

but you. you sat there with your small, three year old hands....and worked.  several minutes went by and you had it.  totally undone.

you didn't say anything.  you didn't brag on how you had done it.  you simply pulled your arms out of those sleeves, and removed your shirt.  then you brought it to the bag...the dirty clothes bag and dropped it in.  it was then you plopped down to take off your shoes...and socks and eventually your shorts.

the day before i had watched you pull your trunki from the car.  drag it into the hotel.  and onto the elevator.  then you walked down the hallway, behind everyone else.  you did it without making any sound.  you didn't ask for help.  you didn't show struggle or pain or delay.

you were simply you.

as you age, you'll see how silly so many of us are.  you'll find that we simply cannot rest.  that we must be moving. that we must be doing 10 things at once.

you'll see that pratt takes off his shoes and socks with his toes while working his fingers in his shirt.  undoing the buttons.

you'll see me folding laundry, spelling words for pratt and watching television all at once.

you'll see daddy read the newspaper and eat cereal.  never taking his eyes off the fine print of the paper.

but you...you're so different.

you take your time.  you never rush.  you never hurry.  you never stress.

because of this, you never seem flustered.  you never seem worried.  you never seem upset.

you, my son, have taught me to slow down.  i've learned to find calm in the quiet.  i've learned to sit and watch you for the minutes it takes you to do something.

it has taken me a while...but i've realized that there is a great deal of knowledge right in front of me.  i have a view few people can claim.

i hate the apraxia.  i hate the disorder that causes so much extra work for you.

but i love that it has taught you something that so many of us don't know.  i love that it has helped you to be a listener.  i love that you are quiet.  i love that you wait before speaking.  i love that you have so much determination...and so when something happens...i know it was meant to be.  i know that you wanted it.

today in yoga, my friend marietta said that sometimes we just need to be still.

thank you for teaching me that.  for teaching me that there is wisdom in the stillness.  kimber said it best when she said that wisdom is on your face.  it is in your eyes.  it is in the way you move your hands.  and your feet.

wisdom is written all over you.

i am so proud to be your mommy.
i am so thankful to learn from you each and every single day.
my prayer every single night is that i could wake in the morning and be more like you.

i love you more than you love ace.

xxoo.
mommy.

slow and steady.

i love that quote on pinterest about how if we all threw our problems onto the ground, when we saw what else existed...we would hurriedly pick ours back up and be thankful for them.

i think about that often.

yesterday i went to pick max up early from school and once he saw me, he teared up and said, "home,  momma.  go home."

apparently he cried in the gym too.  at some point during the day.

and if you have a child and know that they've cried without you, you know what i cannot describe here.

as we got into the car and left, i questioned him about what was wrong. about what happened in the gym and why he would have cried.  (it was during his physical therapy).

he said something but i couldn't understand it.  trying to understand him is difficult.  trying to understand him without being able to look at his mouth...almost impossible.  and i was driving.  so i couldn't really do anything about it.

as we got close to mcdonald's, he pointed and said, "eat momma!!" so i pulled to the drive through.

i immediately started asking what he wanted.

usually i can say, "cheeseburger or chicken nuggets" and i can make sense of what he responds.  but yesterday i couldn't.  he didn't say either of those things.

i felt my emotions start to well up.  my eyes got watery.  and i tried again.

max.  do you want chicken nuggets?  yes or no.  say yes or no.

he said something again...but it wasn't yes or no.  and i didn't understand it.

finally i just pulled through.  totally defeated.

i ordered a cheeseburger happy meal with yogurt and fries and juice.

when i handed it to him, he shook his head no.  and then just put his head down.  like he knew i didn't get it.

my crying began as i pulled onto rodney parham.

it didn't stop until i was minutes from opening the van door for pratt to hop in.

being the mom of a child with apraxia is so difficult.

it's difficult to explain.  it's difficult to understand.  it's difficult to express.

so i guess actually it's a lot like the apraxia itself.

there are days when he's chatty.  days when i know the context and i get it.  i understand.  i cheer so loudly when he says something and i understand.

then there are days when he's moody (like a normal 3 year old), but instead of using words to describe what's wrong, he screams.  or he tantrums.  or he doesn't do anything except cry.

my worries as i drove to benton were...(in no particular order)...

will he ever talk?
will he ever talk to where we can fully understand it?
will he ever have a playdate? without me?  without me there to say what he's saying?
will he ever not have to go to PT and OT and speech?
will he ever go to pratt's school?
will he ever be able to tell me what's wrong.  be able to fully express it.  without me having to guess?
will i ever not worry about him?

all those questions.  all those worries.

and then..just like that, i think of the other worries that moms i know would toss out there.

the moms who have children with medical issues.
the moms who don't have their children anymore.
the moms who have medical issues of their own.

etc, etc.

i could go on and on.

if you have a child not like the other kids their age, i'm here.  i'm struggling with you.  i'm wondering the same things you're wondering.  i'm worried about the same worries.

we are in this together.  you are not alone.  you're never alone.

my prayer for you today is that you realize that we can do this.  we are strong enough for this.  we are ready and willing and we can help them along the way.  i pray that you are surrounded by a village that helps you every single day.

and i pray that you, like me, can find time to just take a couple of deep breaths.  and know that God won't leave us.  and He won't forsake us.  and He saw this coming long before we had any idea.  slow and steady wins the race.  i'm sure of it.  i'm claiming it.

xxoo.
hannah.

introduction to essential oils.

last year i met a girl named chelsea.  she was sweet and kind...and so, so funny.

the first few times i was around her, she would occasionally mention essential oils.  for example, someone would mention that they had a cut...or couldn't sleep.  or maybe that their child had eczema.  i even once heard someone comment on the headache they were bound to have from the wine they were drinking.

and she would say, "you know i have an oil for that....".  and that was it.  that's all she said.

i did a little research and looked into these oils.

let me start by saying that i'm a total granola girl.  i buy organic everything i can afford.  milk, apples, carrots, etc.  i try really hard to shop the perimeter of the grocery store.  i try not to buy bagged snacks for the boys.  i bought honest products for a good long while to make sure there was nothing weird in my cleaning products.  if you ever start to really look at what is in the purple kaboom that i loved so much...you would know why it does such a bang up job of cleaning the bathtub.

and if you google the ingredients, you'll then know why after a bath, your kids have itchy spots everywhere.

now.  a disclaimer.

i'm nuts.  crazy.  totally crazy.  so it might not have anything to do with the kaboom.  but you'll never convince me of that.

but life often gets in the way.  and the good Lord knows i'm far from perfect.  and so we fall back to the walmart stuff often.  but more than not, i wanted something safe.

enter young living essential oils.

now full disclosure: there are several types of essential oils for sale.  you'll find them at health stores.  and other places.  the kind i chose are young living.  i chose these because of their seed to seal guarantee. and i believe these oils are the best on the market.  young living has a website, click here.  and you can read all about them.  their founder.  their story.

and yes, when you order oils, i get a small percentage of what you pay for the oils.  but that's NOT why i sell them.  please know that.  the percentage i get might buy one organic honeycrisp apple.  hahaaaa.  (kroger, i'm looking at you.  you know they are overpriced).

i use them because i believe in them.  and if i can share with you what they've done for us..maybe you'll find that they work for you too.

so the basics.

what are essential oils?

so you know there was this one time when this baby was born.  his name was jesus.  and there were these really wise men who came to see him and they brought him gifts.  ever heard this story?  remember what the men brought the baby?

gold.  and frankincense.  and myrrh.

while i can't help you find gold...although i can give you the gold nugget necklace my boyfriend in the 8th grade gave me...i still have it, i think.  that's all i can do for you about the gold.

but the frank and myrrh.  oh.  those are essential oils.  like, i use frankincense when i have a headache.  one drop on my finger...pressed against the roof of my mouth.  and bam.  no more headache.  or for age spots.  because i love the sunshine.  and one day, a long, long time ago, i loved swimsuits.

so essential oils are liquids generally distilled (most frequently by steam or water) from the leaves, stems, flowers, bark, roots, or other elements of a plant. essential oils, contrary to the use of the word "oil" are not really oily-feeling at all.  if you want to get into the science of it all, i'm your girl.  after all, i WAS biology major in college.  i mean,  just last year i learned that bulls have testicles.  so they are boys.  because i didn't realize that all bulls were boys.  that's a fact, you guys.  my alma mater is so proud.

so maybe i shouldn't talk about science.  but i'll just say that essential oils aren't really "oils" because they lack fatty acids.  i should just stop here.  well, i should have stopped before the testicle comment.  but you know, i overshare.  it's ONE of my faults.

pure, unadulterated oils have a therapeutic potential for so many people.  and while i know that my doctor friends...and pharmacist friends are rolling their eyes and searching for studies to prove this...i'll just say this.  i don't need a study.  if they are safe, that's enough for me.  i'll try them and see what i think.

in december, i had a patch on my face that popped up.  it was dry.  and flaky and looked a lot like dermatitis.  i had a prescription steroid cream that i ended up putting on it.  within a day or two, it was gone.  two days later, popped back up again.  more steroid cream...gone.  i did this for a month.  until january 3rd when my husband and i were on a trip and i didn't have the cream.  i woke up on a saturday morning and you guys.  the dermatitis was in my laugh line and ACROSS MY CHIN.  and it looked like acne.

after googling, i figured out it WAS perioral dermatitis.  and it was a result of overusing the steroid cream.

now.  i'm all for some good medication.  my oldest started amoxicillian yesterday for what we think might be strep.  (we may discontinue it today if the culture comes back negative), but had i had another option for that small spot of dermatitis, i wouldn't have had the rash.  ALL OVER MY 35 YEAR OLD FACE.  it has taken a over a month to get it under control.  and it's still not gone.

i've used that steroid cream on the boys.  that's why i had it.  for max's eczema.  i panicked when i realized that this same thing could happen to max.  and so that's when i really got serious about the oils.  that's when i really starting paying attention to their benefits.

and that's when i stopped caring about studies.  i don't need a study.  i just need to see it with my own two eyes.

how do you use essential oils: 

one. topically.

many oils are safe to apply directly to the skin.  sometimes diluting them with a carrier oil is necessary.  a carrier oil can be coconut oil, grapeseed oil, olive oil, etc.  young living also sells a carrier oil that can be used.

popular areas of topical use are the temples, ears, soles and tops of feet, abdomen and upper back.  you simply place a drop or two into your hands.  then apply it to the desired area.  massage it in.  reapply when necessary.

two. inhalation.

well.  see this graphic...

you can do this one of three ways.

a. by directly inhaling the oil from the bottle.
b. by adding a few drops of oils to a bowl of warm water. then placing your face over the bowl and breathing in.
c. diffuse your favorite oil (or combination of oils) in a young living diffuser.  the diffuser is one of the items that comes in the starter kit (more on that later).  the diffuser is designed to diffuse a fine mist that can fill a whole room in a matter of seconds.  there is no heating or burning of the oils this way.

three.  internal consumption.

you can put a few drops of oil into a gel capsule and swallow with water.  you can also add a few drops to your meals.  and finally, drops can be placed in water or juice.

we make a really good "thieves tea" which is warm water, one drop of lemon oil and one drop of thieves oil.  this is good for a sore throat.  my kids drink it too.

it is very important to note that NOT ALL essential oils can be ingested.  only the young living oils labeled as a dietary supplement have been identified by the FDA as GRAS (generally regarded as safe) and are most likely safe to be ingested.  anything outside of these perimeters, i'm not sure and CANNOT speak to that.

another thing: the oils have a good, long shelf life.  as long as they are kept in their dark bottles, in a cool, dark place, they will last a long time.  in each 5 ml bottle, there are approximately 80 drops of oil.  in a 15 ml bottle, there are approximately 240 drops.  so a bottle of oil can last you several months...maybe even a year.

how and what do i order?

if you're interested in ordering something, i want you to contact me personally.  i could give you the instructions here, but i don't want to do that.

i'll say that a starter kit is a popular choice for someone wanting to try them out.  the starter kit is 150 dollars (not including shipping or tax).  currently, it comes with 11 oils and a diffuser.  let me say that this is a really, really good price.  a diffuser alone is something like 80 dollars.

here is a graphic of the starter kit.

i have samples of several oils.  i can get those to you to try.  or you can order bottles individually.

soon, i'll make a post of what each of those oils is good for.  for now, if you have questions, email me.  or text me.  or find me on Facebook.  or you can even comment here.

there are no silly questions.  trust me, i've asked them all.

i wished it too, momma.

our max has been sick a lot.

in his first year of life, he had over 9 ear infections.  his left ear stayed pretty blocked the entire year.

in his second year of life, he had strep 8 times.

at some point, when he was still crawling, he fell and busted his chin wide open. he had 13 stitches put in while i held him down. probably one of the top three worst moments of my life.

he had his first set of eustachian tubes placed at 2 years of age.  then a second set at 3.

he's puked on me plenty of times.  had fever more times than i can remember.

but last night, last night was the first time in his life...in his 3 years and 9 month life, that he has ever verbalized what was wrong.

"Momma, my tummy hurts."

just like that.  said just like that.

you might not have understood it, but this momma did.

and so i held him and rubbed on him.  and sang in his ear.

but my heart..it leapt around. and danced.  and rejoiced in the moment. in his language.  in his speech. in his attempts.

back before christmas, we all went big cedar lodge in branson.  we had gone to breakfast one morning and it had been a hard day.  he hadn't slept as much as he needed and he was in a really poor mood.  didn't want anyone but me.  that kind of thing.

by the time breakfast was over, he was better.  seemed happier.  less in his own world.

we parked and were all walking up the steps to the hotel, when he fell.  lost his balance and tumbled over backwards.  two steps.  i can close my eyes and still see it.

i ran to get him.  and in my inability to just rest, i tried to hurry up the steps to take him to the bed.  he was scratched and had a knot already forming.

but because i hurried, i tripped too.  we both fell down.  tears immediately sprung to my eyes.

i put him on the bed and tried to comfort him.  but i was totally unable.  my mom and dad immediately stepped in.  because that's what parents do.  they just step in. even when not asked.  they just know and do it and don't say anything about it.

after he was better and after i composed myself, we were leaving to go get back in the car.  pratt, who had witnessed this whole thing, walked up to me with a dandelion.

he handed it to me and said, "here momma.  i got this for you.  you can make a wish."

i said, "no, no.  you make a wish.  it's yours babe."

and he said, "no mom.  i've already made like 10 of them."

so i took it.  walked to the car with the flower and all it's seeds bouncing around.  and pratt followed me.

as i blew it, he said, "i know what you wished for."

i could feel the tears again...and tried so hard to reel them in.  i said, "you do?  what?"

and in the smallest voice, he said, "for max to get better."

i am crying as i type this.

i leaned down and hugged him. and we both just cried.

because yes.  one million times yes.  i wished that he would be better.

that he would be able to walk like the kids his age can walk.  not run.  i wasn't wishing for running or jumping or skipping or hopping.  i was just wishing for walking.  for being able to put one foot in front of the other and walk up the steps.  doesn't that seem simple enough?  is that just too much to ask for?

a few seconds later, he whispered, "i wished it too, momma.  it's always my wish.  my wishes are always for max.  so i know it's gonna be okay.  say you know too, mom."

so i did.
because deep down, i did know.

i just didn't know when.

but in moments like last night...when all i thought i wanted to do was sleep...and rest, instead, God gave me what i have wanted for so long.

for max to just be okay.

so if you're keeping up with it, my max is okay.

every single day that he verbalizes...every single day that i get a video from his PT showing him kicking a ball....all those days, those are winning days.

those are days i know that the dandelion wishes came true.