The End of the Beginning

I'm a bit sad to be writing this post but at the same time, it's past time for me to do this and it will lead to bigger better things.

This will be my very last blog post as A Wannabe Supermom. Go ahead. Shed a tear. Or not... It's been so long since I really wrote anything that most are probably wondering, "Who are you, again?"

I've been dragging my feet on this for a while but have known it was the right thing to do for months. I have grown so much since having started this blog that I am no longer the wannabe supermom that started it. I am not at all saying that I'm a Supermom. In fact, I'm so far from it that I've not even earned the cool one piece leotard that's part of the "uniform". I'm nowhere near getting the cape or the boots or the cool cuffs... Come on. You know you kinda picture the Amazon princess, Wonder Woman when you think of Supermom too! Well, that's what she looks like in my head... However, I'm no longer a wannabe. And that changes everything.

When I started this blog, my oldest was a little over 3, my son was almost 2, and my baby was just a few months old. Now, my oldest is almost 5, my son is about 3 1/2 and my baby is... well, she'll be two in about 5 months and she wont be the baby any more because very shortly after her birthday, Baby #4 will be born. Funny how I recently posted about how excited I was to be done having kids, huh? Yeah. I'm laughing...

When I started though, our family was going through some difficult times, my poor husband was dealing with a lot of stress at work and I was a hot mess. I had this idea of what a perfect wife and mother should be and I wanted with all my heart to be that ideal woman. But I was looking at other women and their strengths and comparing myself to them. And I felt like I was lacking in so many areas and that I was a terrible wife and mother and that they were so much better than I was. I wasn't looking at the right standard for how I should conduct myself as a mom. I also wasn't giving God credit for making me unique and enjoying being the individual that He created me to be. And that right there is where I made my biggest mistake and where I have learned (am still learning) the hardest lesson.

I stayed a sad "wannabe" for several reasons. First, I compare myself to others. I would look at other moms, other women and see all the awesome characteristics and traits and abilities they had and I wished I could be like them. And I wasn't. I'm still not. Before, it depressed me pretty bad. It made me feel inadequate, flawed, and childish. I really wanted to be a completely different person. Anyone but myself. The next reason was that I cared too much what others thought about me. Soon after starting this blog, a person that I was wanting to be friends with misinterpreted one of my posts, lashed out at me and totally crushed my spirit. Completely. I had another "friend" stop speaking to me all together because she didn't like my viewpoint on something. Crushed again. I was ignored by other moms because, of all the strange things, the shoes I choose to wear. At first this really bummed me out but I got over that one pretty quick because I was closer to this end of things than as when I started. Finally, I wasn't paying attention to what God expected of me as a mother. I mean, I knew that God had given me these gorgeous babies to nurture and train and love and grow into followers of His but I wasn't paying attention to how He wanted me to do that. I was more focused on what others thought I should be doing as a mom that I was paying almost no attention to His desire for me and my family.

Here's what it boils down to: I'm different and there's nothing wrong with that. God made me this way. And because He made me this way, with my own set of quirks and strengths and weaknesses that other may or may not posses, He expects me to use the personality and abilities that He gave me to be the best mother I can be to my children. My house may not ever be organized perfectly (although, I will say that becoming a Thirty One consultant has helped me in that area a LOT), I may have to send my kids to tutoring if they need help with math, there's no way on God's green earth that I could home school my children longer than pre k age, my own inability to filter my words in a certain way will probably ensure that my children will forever be saying embarrassing things in public and I probably wont ever be able to bake and frost cupcakes properly. However, chances are one or more of my kids will well read, may appreciate and excel in art and find beauty in the unusual, they may be able to become great public speakers or learn to hate cupcakes. God made me the way I am because He knew that that's what my children would need. Not some other mom. Not another woman. He gave me to my children just as much as He gave them to me.

This blog has been such a journey in ways that I never thought possible though. I have "met" and have been encouraged by some amazing women because of it. I found some amazing, supportive blogging communities along the road, found out about some books that have rocked my world, gotten to talk to others about my loving Savior and had a blast doing it. It was also therapy for me. So many nights, I would put the kids to bed, turn on my computer and just write. And it was awesome. Also therapeutic in ways like my posts about what we went through with my son being sick. I never realized how much emotion I had bottled up and tried to ignore until I wrote that first piece. Healing.

I still have a ton of growing to do though. I don't plan on stopping blogging for good. I enjoy it too much. However, it is time for me to put away the wannabe and emerge later, when God has prepared something else for me. I plan on starting another blog but need to take some time off, get closer to God and get His input/direction/guidance/blessing before I do. Once I do, I will post the link to the new site on here and then shortly after, shut this one down.

I really appreciate all of you who have gone on this journey with me. Those of you who have laughed and cried with me, who fought with me over certain issues I brought up on here and those of you who have encouraged me as a fellow mother, as a fellow Christian woman and as a friend.

So, I now say a bittersweet goodbye. Thank you for taking the time to read my posts and to those of you who responded. Thank you also to the wonderful women who gave me extra writing opportunities. You've been so very kind to me.

See... this is where having an actual cape would come in handy... I could exit in a graceful but awesome way by doing a cool spin and have the cape fly up behind me as I ran off into the night... Anyway...



Stay tuned because I will be back :)

Oh, Santa...

It's beginning to look at lot like Christmas. I got a little over excited this year and decorated the day before Thanksgiving. Well, almost. We got the living room set up and the first tree up. We put up the second tree last night and today, if I ever get my room clean, I'll put up the last tree. Yeah, we like to decorate for Christmas in our house.

We've been in holiday mode for a while now though. A couple week before Thanksgiving, we were at the mall and Santa happened to be there for pictures. We weren't planning on it but there was no line, the kids were in a good mood and so we though, "Why not?" Another surprise experience. Our son, purposely anti social (it's all an act... he likes the attention it gets him...) saw Santa and acted like he'd found his long lost best friend. He climbed right up next to him and started chatting away. Blew my mind. He NEVER does that. Our oldest, the one who is usually delightfully talkative to strangers, clammed up and didn't say a word. Our youngest, at nearly one and a half, cracked me up. She sat on Santa's lap with the most serious expression on her face. Like she decided she had to put on some tough girl act and didn't want every one to know that deep down inside, her inner child was elated to see the man in red. Her comically thick eyebrows made it even funnier. Thankfully, the photographer was a pro at dealing with kids that refuse to smile and she managed to get a crack of one out of her.

After leaving Santa, we made the mistake of explaining the nice/naughty list thing with the kids. For starters, they're now constantly asking if they're on the nice list. Really, if there was such a thing, most of the time, they'd be on the naughty list! Then, while explaining the list, we had to explain that Santa "sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good..." You know the rest. THIS freaked out our oldest. The idea of a strange bearded man is something that she's having a hard time comfortably wrapping her head around. We're going to the The Elf on the Shelf with the kids for the first time this year. Think she'll be even more freaked out knowing that Santa has sent an elf to constantly keep an eye on them? Yeah. This could end badly. Guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Next, we've got the issue of the identity of Baby Jesus. We are constantly reminding the kids that Christmas isn't about getting gifts and Santa and all the rest of the hoopla. They are very aware that Christmas is Jesus' birthday and that's the real reason why we're celebrating. We've even discussed what gifts they can give Him that'll make Him happy (my favorite is obedience to your parents). However, something I'm having a hard time explaining is who exactly Joseph is. I made the kids set up the Nativity with me (more like made them watch since I got tired of gluing heads back on the Wise Men last year). While setting it up, we talked about the Christmas story and who was who and where they came from and what role they played. I don't know how or when I finally came to understand it all when I was a kid but my oldest just isn't getting the whole "Joseph was Mary's husband but not Jesus' Daddy" thing. I guess I can understand why it's confusing to a kid who has no complete concept of multiple parents or theology or deity. But I just can't seem to explain it in a way that she understands. I think it may be just the way her brain works... (Me: Alex, get a grip. Alex: *looking around confused* Where's a grip, Mom?... understand what I'm saying?).

Then we've got  Saint Scrooge. We packed boxes for Operation Christmas Child this year. It's something we did as kids in my home and I wanted my kids to do it too in hopes for them to understand that giving to others who don't have anything is important, that the world is bigger than they are and that just as God gave to us, it is good for us to give to those in need. I let them help pick out what we packed and then they made cards to put in the boxes and they helped pack them. This whole thing resonated with my three year old son. The other day, I had one of those "proud mommy moments" until it turned into a weird "my son is a Scrooge" moment. He's got a Tonka truck that's big enough to ride in if he wanted to. A couple day ago, he took a bunch of his toys (and a few of his sisters') and was pushing it around saying that he was delivering his toys to kids that didn't have any. Made my heart melt (which started leaking out my eyes somehow...). I was touched that my son would play at giving to others. That even when he had a chance to be doing whatever he wanted to do, he was pretending to take care of others. His younger sister walks up to take her baby doll out of the truck and he screams at her. When I asked what was wrong, he responded that "she can't have these toys! I put her on the naughty list!" Awesome, Scrooge. Awesome. He also told me the other day that he wanted Santa for Christmas. When I asked what he meant, he said, "Well, if I have Santa, he can give me presents all the time." Oh, boy...

We're looking forward to all the great events our town is throwing for the holidays (an elf workshop, breakfast with Santa, light hunting...). I'm sure I'll have an entertaining story to share concerning the Elf on the Shelf. In the meantime, Santa better keep me on the "nice list" for having to deal with my three kids during the holidays ;)

Being a Soccer Mom: Not What I Expected

Every time I get on here to write, I realize that it's been way too long since my last post. This time I have a legitimate excuse for my absentmindedness and for now, I'll blame it on the holiday season even though I know for a fact that it has absolutely nothing to do with that.

Back in September, I officially became a soccer mom as my oldest daughter (4) started her very first season of soccer. What my mom calls "herd ball" because at that age, they all just herd around the ball (which surprisingly wasn't the case for this team... there were several little girls with some real skill on the team!!!). For starters, I'd like to say "Thank You" to God for putting her on the team she wound up on. I think that this group of girls and the coach she got were exactly what she needed for her first experience with sports. Alex is my gentler child. She needs quieter nurturing and soft words and lots of vocal encouragement and that's exactly what she got. Actually, what she needed surprised the heck out of me.

At home, Alex will play soccer in our back yard, running back and forth for who knows how long with the ball, trying to weave in between the cones and score in the little goal we bought for her. We honestly thought that she'd be a star out on the field and that she'd soar through this season. I don't want to sound unkind, but that's not exactly what happened. I didn't expect her to be super outgoing because I know that (outside the house) she's quiet but I didn't expect her to be quite shy. I didn't expect her to cry and run off the field the first time she got knocked down in a game and I definitely didn't expect to have to constantly yell to her to turn around to face the game as she randomly stopped running and decided to take in the surrounding scenery. I was thrilled to see her constantly improving and bewildered at her constantly divulging information to strangers about who knows what. Putting it lightly, her first soccer season  wasn't what any of us expected, really. But I am excited to say that she had a blast, is bummed that this season is over and is looking forward to playing in the spring.

Last month, our son (3) started soccer as well. He participates in a clinic at the indoor soccer facilities. The smell of the place brings back memories from when I played indoor soccer in high school. Actually, now that I think about it, I must be where my son gets it from. I was there just to have fun (I had NO skill so fun was all I had going for me). I didn't take it all that seriously and was kinda a goofball about it. So is my son. In fact, so much so that often, I'm wishing the place were a sand pit and I an ostrich so I could hide my head in the sand. When my husband signed up our son, the plan was for the two of them to go together (it's a parental participation kind of skill building clinic) and enjoy some "boy time" playing soccer together. That first night, when I came home, my husband looked so forlorn that I thought a family member had died. Nope. He just spent 45 minutes alone with our son. As he expressed his frustration with our son after the ridiculous experience they'd just had, I wanted to laugh out loud (because I'd been there myself and was glad some one else now understood what I've been going through) and then wanted to cry (because I've been there myself and was glad some one else now understood what I've been going through). The next week came around and I offered to go with him instead. Not sure what I was thinking. This kid is a nut. For starters, he thinks the fake turf is real grass and he will roll around on it, stroke it, rub his face on it and smile like the Cheshire Cat the entire time. Then, when we're doing the relay races (in teams with the other parents and kids) his gooberish stubborn streak kicks in and when you tell him that it's his turn to go and that he needs to do it, he folds his arms across his chest and yells "NO"... while all 20 other kids wait behind him for their own turn. Or when the instructor says, "Parents, slowly dribble the ball down the field and kids, try to take it from your parent" I dribble and my delightful son runs behind me laughing and spanking my butt. This too, is not what I was expecting. Again though, I'm thankful that he has the instructor that he has because this guy is great with him. He laughs at him (when I'm trying not to cry out of embarrassment) and gives him huge high-fives when he scores a goal.

I'm told by other "soccer parents" that the first go around is always the weirdest or the most unexpected or, sometimes, the most frustrating. They've all told me that the second experience will be much different and rewarding for everyone involved. I don't doubt this at all concerning Alex. She has it in her personality to want to do better every time. To be excited about improvement. Anthony though... we'll have to wait and see. Is there a sport that you can play by yourself and be a total nut job? That'd be for him.

So, I'm looking forward to watching Alex play soccer in the spring. I am proud of her for trying and for not letting her fears get the best of her. Anthony... I'm looking forward to finding the right fit for him.

Battle of the Moms

When I was pregnant with my oldest daughter, I had a little scare and went to the emergency room. While going over my paperwork with the nurse, she asked what my occupation  was. At the time I wasn't working and told her I was a house wife. She looked me dead in the eye and said, "Home Maker". At the time, I was just like, "Uh... whatever you say."  

A couple years ago, while having my taxes done by a wonderful older gentleman, he also asked what my job was. I said that I was a Stay at Home Mom and he shook his head. He, also looking me dead in the eye, responded that the appropriate title was Domestic Engineer. I like that one. But any time I actually use that term, people look at me like I'm tooting my own horn or like I tried to make a joke that they're just not understanding.

I've never really had any one treat me differently because I am a stay at home mom. I've decided that there's two possible reasons for this. Either 1) people see me with three really little children and a husband who works long hard hours and they realize that I really do have a "job" or 2) people see me with three really little children and a husband who works long hard hours and they realize I'm totally insane and are too afraid to say anything to me that might just make me turn feral. Either way, it is what it is.

However, lately (and it's probably been this way since the existence of working mothers and stay at home moms but I'm just now getting around to it), I've noticed that there's a "war" between moms with jobs and moms who stay at home. Like its some weird kind of competition. Who's life is more stressful... Who's the better parent... Who's more spoiled than the other... "I do my job AND yours!"... It's weird and silly in my opinion.

I'm Switzerland. Neutral. Not taking one side or the other. But I will say how I feel about both... just a little.

I look at my own mother and I'm baffled. I don't know how she did it. She went back to work just a few weeks after I was born. She worked a stressful job and came home after picking me (eventually "us") from the babysitter or school or day care and cooked dinner, bathed us, helped us with home work. My Dad was always very involved with us too and did a lot of work in and out of the home but we're talking about mom's here. She played softball on the church team, helped with school events and church events, carted us around to practices and tryouts and tournaments and such. She had her own hobbies and projects and kept our house clean and smelling good and food on our table. I don't know how she did it all. I actually feel this way about most mom's who have jobs outside the homes. I have no idea how they don't get burnt out. I wont lie, I hear about some women's jobs and I have to laugh because I'm kinda like, "I'd sure love to get paid to goof around like that all day." But then there's other women who's jobs I'll hear about and I"m like, "What the?... How do you function? NO THANK YOU!" And other times I think, "It sure would be nice to get a paycheck for all the work I do."

But for the women who DO work and don't think that Stay at Home Moms really have it tough, let me explain a few things to you. No one else is taking care of my children. I am solely responsible for their "education", the discipline, the entertainment, three square meals, field trips and everything else. I have three kids to take care of. Three kids who are constantly in our home making messes. I understand that working mothers come home from their jobs and cook and clean but my house is CONSTANTLY being used and lived in. So there is CONSTANTLY something that needs to be cleaned or re cleaned or that's broken and needs to be fixed. Every meal I cook, I have to clean up from. There's no day care worker in my house serving meals and cleaning up from them. No teacher telling the kids that it's time to clean up and putting them in time out for me when they refuse. Because we're home all day, my bathrooms are continuously being used... and peed all over and pooped in. I have to purposefully make an effort to have my children socialized. They don't have the benefit of being in a school or daycare surrounded by other children. Teachers teaching them. Day care workers doing art projects with them (which ALSO can create huge messes to clean). Working moms may deal with some real difficult people at work but the three people that I love most in this world are the ones that scream at me. That disobey me. That stress me out. All day every day. I don't mean to say that they're always bad but I sure could handle a coworker giving me a hard time much better than my own child. It's emotionally draining. And when things aren't going right, it's so easy to feel like a failure as a mom. And trust me, I've worked before. I've worked out side the home longer than I've been a stay at home mom. I've screwed up at my jobs before. Sometimes pretty bad. But never did I feel as miserable afterwards as I do when I know I've screwed up as a stay at home mom. It down right blows. And please, don't for one second think that just because I'm home all day that my evenings are completely free when the kids are in bed. I was up late last night doing laundry and ironing. Just because the kids are in bed, doesn't mean my work is done. Just like a working mom. I'm not sitting around eating bon bons all day, just like a working mother isn't. Alright, I guess I AM getting a little bit defensive here so I'll stop.

Now, I will admit that I have gotten comfortable in my role as a stay at home mom. I like it. No, I LOVE it. I get to spend time with my kids all the time. Some days are harder than others. Some days I get less hugs and kisses than on other days. But some days, I get to have water balloon fights or movie nights or "baking parties". Other days, there's so much poop every where that I wonder if I myself have turned into a turd. It's all part of the gig.

I guess I'd just like to say to the waring moms to get a grip. Stay at Home Moms: stop acting like you're victims. Stop acting like you just climbed Mt Everest while performing open heart surgery and cooking a 10 course meal. You didn't. You GET to stay at home with your children. That's a huge blessing. Stop acting like it's a chore. Working Moms: While I do feel bad that you don't get to spend as much time with your babies as I get to spend with mine, stop acting like we're nothing but a bunch of lazy people. I work hard. Some days harder than others. I know you work hard too (or at least I hope you do). I don't get monetary benefits from my job but you do. Your job may be stressful but mine is too. Give it a whirl. There's plenty of working moms that become stay at home moms and end up wishing they were back at their jobs. Worry about your task at hand and I'll worry about mine.

That being said, no matter where you "work", being a mother in general is a 24/7 gig. I don't think it ends when the kids are grown and out of the house. My mom still takes care of my sister and I in many ways. Still invests time into us and now my kids. Still works, still takes care of her home and my dad and their dogs and a whole lot more. No need to argue about who does how much of what and where it gets done.

This cup of coffee is for all the Moms out there, Wannabes Supermoms or just straight up Supermoms. Here's to all the work we do, in and out of the home.

Why It's Ok When Bad Things Happen

  It's that time of year again. My little boy celebrated his third birthday yesterday. And for the last three years, we have basked in the blessing of being able to celebrate his birthday with him. It is not something that we take lightly. And every year, I have a deeper respect for God and my appreciation flourishes as I watch my little boy grow. As well, the lesson we had to learn, that I'm still learning, becomes deeper and more profound.

For those of you who know what we went through as a family, I ask you to bare with me and forgive my... excessive sentiment regarding the situation. It is still as fresh in my heart as if it just happened. I'm not sure why I still get choked up when I think about it but I do. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, let me explain, just a little.

Three years ago, my beautiful little boy was born. I was induced because of really bad back pain. He was only about a week early so it wasn't that big of a deal. A few days after we came home from the hospital, my husband had to go back to work, states away but thankfully, I had my Mom with me. Without her there, I never would have been able to survive those first few hours. At a week old, little Anthony got a fever. When a baby that young has a fever, they automatically have to do a urine sample, blood tests and a spinal tap. After all of this, they usually put the baby in the pediatric unit of the hospital until they can find out what's wrong. Well, the local hospital I'd taken him to didn't have one so he had to be taken via ambulance to Children's. Thankfully, my Mom was home with my daughter so I didn't have to worry about that. I didn't go in the ambulance but followed in my car. Upon arriving at Children's, I found that he wasn't in the unit I was originally told but was in ICU because he'd gone into shock in the ambulance. Still don't know what that really means. As I got to his room, I had to be immediately ushered out because they were having to hook him up to a breathing tube because he just wasn't doing it on his own after going into shock. He spent the next 7 days in ICU and another 3 in a recovery ward. The doctors and nurses never found out what was wrong with him, we were often told that there was no guarantee he'd survive the day or night and his poor little body swelled up so badly that we weren't allowed to touch him for a while.

I refer to these days as my Darkest Hour (read last year's blog post). Not being able to touch your brand new baby is torture. Not being able to hear him cry was surprisingly disturbing. That first week, I'd have given up both my hands just to hear him cry. It was also a dark time because of my anger, frustration and bitterness toward God. I didn't understand why God was allowing my baby, too young to have done anything to deserve any kind of punishment or suffering, to hurt so badly. To knock on Death's door. Or why He felt the need to teach ME a lesson using the life and well being of my baby. It didn't make sense to me at all. And I turned inward and it festered for a little while.

I will always be grateful for the outpouring of prayers for my little boy during that time and KNOW that the prayers of many people who love God and love my family are what played a huge part in the recovery of my baby. No doubt in my mind. Which leads me to why it's ok when bad things happen.

I obviously can't say how I'd have reacted if Anthony had died. But he didn't and I can tell you that, in this situation, him living is what shed light on the lesson I needed to learn. I needed to learn that God loves me and part of Him loving me is enjoying my praise and my thankfulness and me being able to glorify Him. God didn't MAKE this happen to my baby. But He used the situation to teach me and bring me closer to Him. And THAT is why it's ok.

I'm not about to compare my own sufferings to that of Job or that my faith is anywhere near as strong as his was. But even concerning what he went through, it was OK. For a reason. Job lost everything. His family, his house, his friends and all he owned, his health. All of it. Except his faith in God. Satan thought he was so clever trying to hurt Job and turn him away. But it backfired because not only did Job refuse to turn from God in his suffering, he chose to continue to glorify God with his life. And God blessed him greatly for it.

I recently watched a video by Lisa Chan called Be Still. In the video, a woman shared her testimony about going through a divorce and how badly hurt she was by it. But in her suffering, she turned to God and was greatly blessed by it. She grew in her own relationship with God and eventually met and married a man who loves God very much.

When bad things happen, it's ok because God has a way to use the situation to better you and bless you and bring you closer to Him. If you let Him. There's a whole lot of bad that happens in the world that I can't explain. At all. Gruesome murders, tragic natural disasters, babies getting cancer... I can't explain it other than that through it, God has a plan for some one involved, maybe every one involved, for hope and prosperity and a design that the person will draw closer to Him and be able to give Him praise and honor through it. I know that's what He had in plan for me. I know that through the suffering that my family went through, my faith in Him grew, my belief in the power of prayer changed dramatically (really for our entire family and helped us trust God through prayer during recent trials) and my trust in the sincerity of other Christians (something I thought I had totally lost) was renewed.

I'm not a huge fan of using individual Bible verses to serve my own purpose or prove a point that I'm trying to make but through the years, these verses have helped me, given me hope and joy during trials and frustrating times, during pain and sufferings.

Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." *May I just say that the fact alone that God things enough about me to make plans for me, let alone the fact that they're GOOD plans blows my mind!*

1 Samuel 15:29 "He who is the Glory of Israel does not lie or change His mind; for He is not a man, that He should change His mind." *Any promise that God makes to me is going to be kept. If He has promised good things for me, I can rest assured that good things are in store for me. It's all about how I choose to see the things that happen. He only wants good for me and since He has given His word... :) *

Ecclesiastes 7:14 "When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore, a man cannot discover anything about his future." *God's got everything under control. During the good and the bad in my life, God knows what's in store for me and I can trust Him with my future.*

Isaiah 54:10 "Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,' says the Lord, who has compassion on you." *Even when the world is crumbling down around me, God still loves me and I can always count on that. *

We are also told over and over in the Bible that God takes care of those who love Him. We're told that He doesn't allow us to be tempted beyond what we can handle. He must have known that the only thing I could handle was what happened and nothing more because His mercy allowed my son to make a full recovery with no problems following.

It's OK when bad things happen because God has a design. A plan that, if we choose to see (and trust me, I know, I KNOW how hard it can be to let go, open your eyes and heart and SEE), will help us grow and bring us closer into His loving arms and bless us as well as glorify Him.

Please feel free to comment and share your own experiences with learning lessons from God through your own pains and struggles. If you have questions or need to talk, you can share here or email me at acmaxwell@live.com. I hope you have a blessed day!

Children: Bountiful Blessings

My last blog post was a bit of a ranting vent. I've bounced back and forth since writing it on feeling that it was ok to write it and that it was wrong for me to point out the frustrations I experience while dealing with my son. At times, I felt guilty for writing it. Should I really be venting to strangers (some of you aren't strangers but for the most part...) about the trouble my son can be? Was there really even a point in writing the whole thing? I got a ton of wonderful advice as a result of writing it though. I also got a chance to see a passage of the Bible that I've read a million times in a new light. Or more in a deeper way.

A few days ago, I began to read 1 Samuel. I started to skip the first couple chapters because I've read them before but felt that God prompted me to just start from the beginning. And I'm glad He did.

The beginning of 1 Samuel starts with a woman named Hannah. She is one of two wives of a man named Elkanah. His first wife had kids. I don't know exactly how many but she had more than Hannah. Hannah was barren. Reproductively challenged, infertile... how ever you choose to say it. She couldn't have kids. And it's the only thing she wanted. Her husband's other wife would even mock her inability to conceive. One year, on a trip to town to worship, Hannah had a bit of a breakdown before the Lord and pleaded with Him to give her a child. The priest, Eli, saw her and confronted her and upon realizing that she was truly grief stricken and down, he encouraged her and told her to have peace and "may God give you what you've asked of him" (1 Samuel 1:17). She and her family go home and soon after, God gives her what she's been asking Him for, a child. A son. She then promises God that she will thank Him for his gift by giving back to Him what He blessed her with. When her son, Samuel, is of the right age, she takes him to the priest Eli and has him serve the Lord under Eli. God then blesses her further and she has something like 6 more kids.

I have been so richly blessed. I have had no problem whatsoever conceiving. I have been blessed with ridiculous fertility. And I thank God for it. Honestly. I have friends and family who have struggled for YEARS going through the pain and devastation and life altering experience with infertility. It was hard to watch them go through it so I can only imagine what it was like to actually be in their shoes. I also see all these women who are wreck less with their "blessing". I also know women who seem to keep having babies over and over that they can't seem to take care of. And I don't mean "can't" in the sense that they're struggling financially or have health problems or something. The women are just selfish creatures that don't care about the kids they keep bringing into the world and dump them on to other people. Makes my stomach turn just thinking about it.

I understand what God was trying to teach me through my million and one time reading this passage about Hannah and Samuel. My son is a blessing. He is a gift. Not only was his birth a gift, and then him living through his ordeal in the hospital but each day since then has been a blessing. And the answer to my problem with my son's delightfully strong willed behavior is to do what Hannah did. Maybe not in the same exact way but it boils down to the same thing. God has blessed me with an amazing little boy. Full of life and excitement and joy (until he's not getting his own way). Expressive and creative and affectionate. The best thing I can do for him and for myself and for the rest of our family is to turn him over to God.

There are a whole bunch of different ways I can do this. The gist of it is making sure that he is saturated with the Love and Word of God. That he knows what his purpose here on earth is, why God created him, what God did for him in sending His OWN Son to pay the price for our sins and make sure he is trained in the words, teachings, principles and truths of the Bible. That's what Hannah did. That's EXACTLY what I need to do with and for my own son. And for my daughters. The same return of blessing has to happen with them too.

Understanding WHY God blessed me with my children has made me see Him and they in a different light. All of this is something I knew before but... differently. Like I said, not as deep.

I wish I was as eloquent as Hannah, in her song of praise recorded for the rest of time to be read over and over in thanks to God, but I'm not. So I will just pledge here to spend the rest of my life giving back to God the blessings He has trusted me with.

The Joys of Having a Boy

I remember hearing the sonogram technician tell me that I was having a girl. My husband sat next to me and smiled as we found out the sex of our first baby. I started crying. I had really wanted a boy. The poor tech started looking at me like I was crazy and I'm pretty sure my hubby was thinking the same thing. He asked me what was wrong and all I could get out between my sobs was, "She's going to grow up and hate me!" I don't hate my own Mom. Not in the least bit. But we've had words. And maybe that's what I was thinking at that moment... add the delightful pregnancy hormones to the mix and you've got my reaction.

I was pretty sure when we got pregnant for the second time that it was a boy. And low and behold, he was.

When we got pregnant with our third baby, I begged God for another boy. I wanted a playmate for my son and I wanted my first, my oldest daughter, to be my little princess for ever and ever. And I wanted her to have two boys to beat up all the other guys that will come calling one day. But I see now that God giving us another little girl was nothing short of mercy. There's no way I could handle more than one boy.

Nothing has prepared me for having a little boy. I didn't understand boys when I was little and it seems that I understand them even less as an adult.

My pregnancy with my son was pretty uncomfortable. I had pretty intense lower back pain... pretty close to my butt... and that should have been a warning. Then, right after birth, he got very sick. Not long after that, he developed a delightful rash that got infected. Then he couldn't (wouldn't we now know) eat solids. And he puked at every opportunity. I don't mean normal baby spit up. I'm talking full on barf up the entire bottle he'd just drank.

He is special to me specifically because of all that we went through together when he was sick. When you almost loose a child and they make a full recovery, knowing that you walked through the darkness together and made it to the other side creates a bond. One that he hasn't fully recognized yet.

He's our "problem child". I don't mean to be unkind in calling him that but if you knew how EASY of a baby and kid our first child has been you'd understand. And I just don't know what to do with him.

This kid could win a medal for most outrageous temper tantrums. His specialty: public places. We recently went to the county fair and he got so mad that the ride the kids were on was over that he screamed so much he couldn't eat and then when we put him in the stroller because we knew getting him to walk was out of the question, he thrashed and screamed so much that I thought he was going to physically hurt himself. He has climbed up to the top of the McDonald's play place and refused to come down for HOURS. This happened when our youngest was still a baby and I had to plead with him until a kind old lady offered to watch the baby for me while I climbed up into the play place to get him. He was pretty surprised to see my angry face come around the corner. He has stuck cares up into the tail pipes of my car. He has ripped the child safety gates off the wall. He has pushed his sisters down the stairs. He has hit my Dad while we were out to dinner. He has pulled hand fulls of hair out of his older sister's head. He gets angry at the baby when she doesn't want to play with him and more and will pull on her and push her.

He's high maintenance. He's actually really picky about what shoes he wears. He refuses to eat almost anything except lollipops. He won't go to the bathroom with out taking all of his clothes off except his shirt. He's at a height where if he pees, he's too short to get it all into the toilet and if he stands on the stool, he overshoots. The baseboards in our bathroom are constantly yellow. Recently, he's refused to flush the toilet when he poops because "Poop scares the bugs away, Mom." I don't know WHERE he got that one! He insisted the other night that my name was "Alice the Great". If your kids watch Little Bill, you know who I'm talking about. He doesn't play well with other kids and if you touch one of his cars, you better be skilled in martial arts or you're a goner.
He's all boy. He's into cars. He's not afraid to pick up bugs and lizards and frogs. He even likes going to the "boy store" with his Dad (Autozone). He likes it when we drive fast and hates sitting at stop lights. He can't sit still to save his life and gets angry if myself or one of his sisters enters the room while he and Daddy are having a boys night. He only wants the blue plate for his meals.

On the flip side, he can be a total sweet heart. I wasn't feeling well the other day and when I told him this, he stroked my leg and said, "It's ok, Mom. I'll take good care of you." He will tell me that I'm his best friend. Pretty sure he's said that about Sponge Bob too but still... it's nice to hear every once in a while. He'll thank me for making him pancakes. Or try to share his half eaten gumball with me. And he's honest. He doesn't lie to me if he did something wrong and I ask if he was the one that did it. I don't know what to do with him most of the time. Often, I end up crying after he goes to bed or begging my husband to deal with him as soon as he gets home or loosing it all together and flipping out. I'll be checking out a book that several women have suggested to me recently about "the strong willed child".

I don't feel prepared to be the parent of a little boy. At all. Most of the time, I'm at a total loss for how to deal with him or understand him. Something tells me that it wont get any easier either, even when he leaves the "terrible two" stage (he'll be three in two weeks and there's no end in sight). This Wannabe Supermom has met her match. And this battle is a toughie. At least he's cute, right? ;) My bundle of joy.