small things {lullabies}

small things #37 ... lullabies

It's supposed to be a special time of the day.  

My older girls are snuggled into their beds smelling like toothpaste and the sweet sweatiness of a fun-filled day.  We've shared our bests and our leasts.  We've read our bedtime books and stopped off at the potty "one more time".  It's time to pray and sing and drift off to sleep.

But ...

They aren't tired yet.  Ugh.

And so moments that have the potential to be precious and sacred turn into wrestling matches and stern whispers.  

As I stand in the big girls's room, I lean my head leaning against the top rail of the bunk bed.  My feet hurt and I would love sit down, but Norah wants me to rub her back.  I start my song (again) only to be interrupted by yet another random question.

"Mommy?  In the morning can you pack me my granola bar?"

"Yes.  Shhh..."

I start again, "Little girl, tie on your angel wings and fly, fly, fly ..."

"Mommy?  Why does my teacher use that pointer thing instead of her finger?"

"I don't know.  Lay quietly, please."

I finally come to the last stanza, "Fly until you come to the love I am sending.  Tomorrow will be on the other side.  So ... fly..."

"Mommy?  Here are my dirty socks."  Lovely.

I walk out the door and remind my girls to head right to sleep.  No talking tonight.  Before I make it to the stairs, I hear an explosion of giggles and Norah walks out of the room for a quick drink.  

Why do I bother??

.............................

I settle down on the edge of Aaron's bed.  We sit in the dark and talk for a few minutes about how he "slammed it out of the park" during kickball and how excited he is for the weekend.  I turn his radio down and he turns to rest his back.  Resting with my hand on his chest, I start his song.

"Little boy ..."

"Mom.  I don't think I need a song anymore."

My heart clenches and my throat closes tightly.  I clench my jaw against sudden tears.  I choke out a strangled, "Okay.  Good night, Buddy," and head for the stairs.

Ten years of lullabies and now we're done.   It was bound to happen, but I'm still caught off guard.  This is the same boy who will be a fifth grader next year, but who made repeated excuses for the laziness of the tooth-fairy last month ... "Maybe he was in Timbuktu, Mom."  I know that in the midst of his growing up we will see many of these traditions reach their maturity and fade away leaving a wonderful young man in their place, but it's bittersweet.  Sometimes more bitter than sweet.

.................................

I make one more stop at the bedsides of my baby girls ... holding on to a few more years of lullabies.

Lullabies ... the end of the day.  And for my boy, the end of an era.

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The song in this post is one of Sara Groves' sweet lullabies.  Read all the lines here ... and I challenge you not to sniffle or shed a tear!

It's True

Christmas Eve.

The night of anticipation.

The finale of this long winter wait.

The hushed and yet joyful celebration of Jesus's birth.

A simple song that tells the story ... and assures us that it's true.

(You really should hear it for yourself ... her little boy's voice is so sweet.  As are his words.)

It's True
by Sara Groves


In your heart you
Know it's true
Though you hold no expectation
In the deepest part of you
There's an open hesitation


But it's true
Kingdoms and crowns
A God who came down to find you
It's true
Angels on high
Sing through the night alleluya


Heard it told you
Think it's odd
The whole thing fraught with complication
The play begins with
Baby God
And all His blessed implications


But it's true
Kingdoms and crowns
A God who came down to find you
It's true
Angels on high
Sing through the night alleluia


Alleluia, alleluia


Oh it's true
Kingdoms and crowns
A God who came down to find you
It's true
Angels on high
Sing through the night alleluia


Alleluia ... Praise be to God.

Praise be to God that He knew our need for a Savior.

Praise be to God that He willingly gave His Son for us.

Praise be to God that He has redeemed us.

Praise be to God that He has called us friend.

Praise be to God that it's true.

________________________________

I'm off this week to lounge with a good book, try to finish that scarf I started last month and play with my kids.  I ought to end up with some good stories to share!


See you next year!

Peace, Peace

I'm feeling a little bit like it's Finals Week.  But with a Christmas-theme!

My brain is repeating the facts and details of the coming week - hopefully preventing me from forgetting anything important.

My countertops are covered with lists, catalogues and sticky notes - all essentially important.

My calendar looks a little overloaded in the next couple of days - all important (but fun) activities.

My days are scheduled to the minute (it would seem) with Christmas and non-Christmas tasks - all jockeying for importance.

My heart is set on celebrating Jesus' birth with joy and reverence - focusing on Him as the important Center of Christmas.

I'm having flashbacks to those final weeks of each semester at UNC:  an overloaded brain, an overtaxed body and an overwhelming sense of "I'm not going to make it!"  Not exactly how I would like to feel today, this 16th day before Christmas day.

What am I going to do?  (That is, besides muscle through the next couple of days?)

I think Sara Groves has a little something to share.  This is from her "O Holy Night" CD ... a must have, I must say.


Peace Peace

By Sara Groves, Ben Gowell and Aaron Fabbrini

Peace Peace it's hard to find trouble comes like wrecking ball to your peace of mind and all that worry you can't leave behind all your hopes and fears all your hopes and fears all your hopes and fears are met in Him tonight Peace Peace it's hard to find doubt comes like a tiny voice that's so unkind and all your fears they conspire to unwind you all your hopes and fears all your hopes and fears all your hopes and fears are met in Him And in your dark street shines and everlasting light and all your hopes and fears are met in Him tonight all your hopes and fears all your hopes and fears all your hopes and fears are met in Him tonight peace peace peace peace peace peace

Peace.  Peace.  Peace.  That is what is lacking from this feverish week of get-togethers, Christmas dinners, gingerbread houses, gift making, letter writing and the usual house-hold frenzy.

Peace.

How grateful I am that this important ingredient is nestled in the person of Jesus.  All my hopes and fears - hopes for fun family memories, meaningful advent devotions and joyful gift giving; fears of not enough time, grumbling interactions with my sugar-hyped kids and disappointed hearts - all my hopes and fears are met in Him.

That doesn't mean all the tough stuff evaporates and everything's cheery and bright, but this Holiday can be in a better perspective.

Focused on Jesus.  The truly important part of Christmas.

As for those other bits and pieces ... I'm trusting they'll all fall into place. 

Or not.  (insert shrug here)

Mired in Mementos

(cue music)

Host:  Good morning and welcome to this week's edition of "Horrific Hoarding".  Today's guest is a stay-at-home mom of four who has, as usual, requested that we keep her identity a secret.  She has selected the name, "Mired" for today's show.  Thank you, "Mired", for the opportunity to come to your home.

Mired:  Uhhh ... you're welcome.  It's good to be here.  I mean, it's good for you to be here.  Would you like to have a seat?  Oops.  Well ... let me clear a space here on the sofa for you.  I'll just shove this box over here.  (grunts)  There.

Host:  Thank you, "Mired", let's go ahead and get started.  What is it exactly that you hoard?

Mired:  Well, as you can see from the living room wall here, I have four beautiful kids.  And as you can see from the boxes of mementos along the wall there, they each accumulate a lot of stuff.

Host:  Wow.  That is a lot of boxes.  From where I sit here on the sofa, surrounded by three boxes, I can count (pauses while counting) ... twenty-six boxes and twelve paper sacks.  Are those all full?

Mired:  Yes.  I'm afraid so.  And those are the boxes that didn't fit in the attic or under my bed.  Or in the basement.

Host:  Okay.  And what exactly is in those boxes?

Mired: (sighs) Oh ... everything my kids have ever done.  Ever.  All of it.  Every time one of the kids does anything, I keep it.  I can't bear to throw any of it away.

Host:  Can you give us some examples of what you keep?

Mired: (pulls a box from under the wilted ficus tree)  Well, this box is kind of a hodge-podge of things.  Here is a spelling test from my oldest.  I kept it because he spelled "stockpile" correctly.  This is a card that my daughter gave me for Mother's Day.  She made it herself.  I have it rubber-banded together with all the other cards I got that year.  This is a t-shirt that my oldest daughter wore to her first day of Kindergarten.  It was her favorite shirt and most of the glitter has worn off.  This is a "picture" my toddler drew for me.  It was one of the first times she ever drew a circle.  The paper with her very first circle is here somewhere ... maybe it's in one of those boxes under the dining room table.

Host:  That is a rather eclectic collection of items.  What else do you keep?

Mired:  (selects a grocery sack from the top of the bookcase)  This is full of photographs.  This bundle is full of professional portraits of the kids.  This bundle contains school class pictures.  And this bundle is a mixture of birthday pictures.  Oh look!  Here is one I've been searching for.  It's a picture of my oldest when he got his first bike.  He was so proud of himself.  I also keep their science projects and their journals.  The journals aren't too tough to store, but the science projects can be a challenge.  See that box over there?  That is a diorama that my five year old daughter made.  It's the habitat of a rolly-polly.  For a small bug, she built a huge home for it.

Host:  I imagine that you also keep their art projects as well.  Where are those stored?

Mired:  I have set aside the hall closet for their art projects.  I would show you, but it's pretty full.  I recently added some coloring pages that my baby scribbled for me and I was almost buried alive.  It was an avalanche of macaroni art, water color pages, laminated place-mats and collages.  I was almost hit in the head with a 3D map of Colorado.  It weighs about 15 pounds due to the salt dough Rocky Mountains, so that would have left a mark.

Host:  Yes, I would imagine so.  Do you have any order to the boxes and bags here in the living room?

Mired:  Order?  Uh ... no.  I intended to keep all this organized.  I started with manilla envelopes that I would label and date.  But then I got overwhelmed by the sheer amount of school work the kids would bring home every night, so I started just boxing it up once a month.  Now I put the cardboard box right next to where the kids hang their backpacks.  As I go through their folders, I transfer all the completed homework into the box for safe-keeping.

Host:  So you keep everything?  Even the pages torn out of the math workbooks?

Mired:  Of course!  I want to keep all their work so that I can show them someday how much they have improved!  I'll show you.  (searches through a box from under the fish tank) Here is an example of my eldest's progress.  See how much nicer his number four looks?  It used to look like a lightening bolt.  And here you can see how he figured out that 38 plus 14 equals 52 by drawing a picture.  This page is a great example of his art and math skills!

Host:  I can see that.  You mentioned earlier that you also store items under your bed.  What sort of mementos are in those boxes?

Mired:  Those boxes hold more of our family mementos.  I have the kids' baby books and all the sentimental items that come along with having kids:  their hospital bracelets, the outfit in which they first came home from the hospital, envelopes with their curly locks from their first hair cuts, ziplock bags with their first fingernail clippings ...

Host:  (interrupts) I'm sorry.  Did you say you kept their fingernail clippings?

Mired:  Yes.  Do you want to see them?  They are so tiny.  Itty-bitty nails from their itty-bitty fingers.

Host:  Uhhh ...  No, thank you.  But, please continue.

Mired:  I have also kept their ragged baby blankets.  My daughter's lovey is full of holes and is an awful shade of grey, but it's too precious to throw out.  I also have several boxes of their birthday cards from each year and Valentine's Day cards and Halloween cards and Christmas cards and Fourth of July cards ...

Host:  "Fourth of July cards" ... I didn't realize that people sent out cards for the Fourth of July.

Mired:  Well ... not often, but that just makes them all the more special.

Host:  "Mired" it would appear that you are attached to these items because of their sentimental value.  Would you agree?

Mired: Yes.  I can find a story behind every picture, homework paper, art project, favorite toy, lock of hair, birthday card, science assignment, poem, doodle scrap, board book they ate, writing journal and finger nail.  Each of those stories captures a snapshot of my kids at a specific point in their precious lives and freezes time for me.  By keeping each and every memento, I am able to go back and remember each special moment with my special person.  These kids are growing up far too fast for this mommy's heart and I guess by keeping absolutely everything I hope to be able to treasure this brief season of mothering for a little bit longer.

Host:  (wiping a tear, sniffling) "Mired" ... that just beautiful.  But, you do realize that you can't keep everything.  There is not enough room in this house for you to hold onto every little sentimental thing from your kids.

Mired:  I know.  That's why I've asked my husband to build the addition.

Host:  Well folks, that's it for this week on "Horrific Hoarding".  Join us next Thursday for our visit with "Squirreling Away in Sacramento".  Thanks for joining us!  Bye-bye!

(cue music)

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Prompt #2 - If you were a hoarder, what would you hoard?

In all serious, I do have a large plastic bin behind the rocking chair in my bedroom full (to the brim) of school and life mementos from the past 9 years.  I would love to have a better plan, but this is the best I can do right now.  That is until it starts taking over the rest of the house!  I do have trouble throwing things out for the same reason that poor "Mired" is drowning in boxes and bags.  My babies are growing up too fast and I want a little something from them to hang on to.  For a peek into my heart, check out Sara Groves' precious song, "Small Piece of You".  Just be sure to grab a tissue first. :)

BFF or ... IBFF

My sweet Ashley has a BFF named Kylie.  Kylie is a little older that Ashley.  She is a little braver than Ashley.  She is willing to try new things a bit more readily than Ashley.  She inspires Ashley to take on new challenges ... even tough ones.  She gets to do more things than Ashley because she's older.  She is spoken of with great respect and awe in our house.

And, she's 100% imaginary.

(Get it?  Imaginary Best Friend Forever?)

Ashley is our first kiddo to have an imaginary friend and at first I was a little skeptical.  My first several responses to Ashley's comments about Kylie (and all the amazing things she does) was, "Who?  Who are we talking about?"  I was trying to make Kylie fit the identity of one of Ashley's real friends.  It was obvious that the amazing feats of this sweet little buddy couldn't all be that of another preschooler, but I thought maybe Ashley was compiling a number of aspects from several different friends into one identity.  But then I got to know Kylie a little better and made an interesting discovery.  Kylie is everything Ashley isn't.

Kylie used to suck her thumb, but doesn't anymore.  Kylie gets to stay up during nap time and read chapter books instead of having to sleep.  Kylie got to get her ears pierced ... and she didn't even cry.  Kylie plays with Ashley and doesn't boss her around.  Kylie is cool.

I don't claim to know the psychology behind imaginary friendships, but it is obvious to me that this friendship is meeting a need that Ashley has right now.  A need for a confidant.  A need for a buddy.  A need for someone close to her heart.

The same needs her mommy has.  The same needs you have!

God made each of us with a need for relationships.  We are engineered with a desire to connect with other people.  We are created with a longing to be known intimately.  We are wired with a ache to be someone's friend.

I am so grateful for the people God has put in my life to fill that desire, that longing, that ache.  They make my life fuller, richer and more satisfying (hmm ... satisfyinger isn't a word ... but should be!).

I'm sure that this won't come as much of a surprise, but Sara Groves has a wonderful song about just that.  It's entitled, "Every Minute", and talks about those friendships that nurture us, that validate us, that give us security.  You really need to hear her sing it to truly appreciate it, but the lyrics are beautiful all by themselves:


Every Minute

By Sara Groves
I am long on staying I am slow to leave Especially when it comes to you my friend You have taught me slow down And to prop up my feet It's the fine art of being who I am And I can't figure out Why you want me around I'm not the smartest person I have ever met But somehow that doesn't matter No it never really mattered to you at all And at the risk of wearing out my welcome At the risk of self-discovery I'll take every moment And every minute that you'll give me And I can think of time when families all lived together Four generations in one house And the table was full of good food And friends and neighbors That's not how we like it now Cause if you sit at home you're a loser Couldn't you find anything better to do Well no I couldn't think of one thing I would rather waste my time on than sitting here with you And at the risk of wearing out my welcome At the risk of self-discovery I'll take every moment And every minute that you'll give me And I wish all the people I love the most Could gather in one place And know each other and love each other well And I wish we could all go camping And lay beneath the stars And have nothing to do and stories to tell We'd sit around the campfire And we'd make each other laugh remembering when You're the first one I'm inviting Always know that you're my friend And at the risk of wearing out my welcome At the risk of self-discovery I'll take every moment And every minute that you'll give me Every moment and every minute that you'll give me Every moment and every minute that you'll give me Every minute (From Sara Groves' album, "All Right Here")

I love the imagery she creates with her words:

"The fine art of being who I am" ~ who am I truly?  what do you see when I am the real me?
"At the risk of self-discovery" ~ what if I find out more about the real me than I want to?
"At the risk of wearing out my welcome" ~ what if you don't particularly like the real me?
"And I can't figure out why you want me around" ~ do you really like me?  really?  how?  why?
"Know each other and love each other well"  ~ what else could my heart want?

Another beautiful example of Sara's profound poetry that sings what is in my heart!  It makes me tear up just about every time I hear it because it brings to mind the people in my life with whom I want to "prop up my feet" and "take every minute" they'll give me.  I'm certain you have people that come to your mind, too.  And isn't it wonderful to know that we have that same effect on someone else?!?

Such an extraordinary snapshot of friendship.  A confidant.  A buddy.  Someone close to your heart.

Without really talking about it, Brett and I have both naturally accepted Kylie into our realm of family friendships.  When Ashley mentions something Kylie did today ("Kylie got new fish today ... just like Aaron.") we nod, comment and ask questions ... just as if she were a real person.

I guess, because to Ashley, she is.  IBFF :)

Just Cram It In!

After dinner tonight, Norah blazed through her math homework in a frantic attempt to get upstairs before the apparent mosh pit party wrapped up.  From the kitchen we could hear thudding, giggling, squealing and the occasional "ouch!"  It was a simple math page, one she could normally do in just a few minutes.  But she was going for a record time of .43 seconds.  And got it wrong.  As Brett plopped her down to "try it again ... slower this time", it was evident from the many lines and numbers on her page that she was in desperate need of a super-sized eraser.

I had seen an eraser somewhere recently and pulled open the junk drawer in the kitchen ... maybe it was in here.  As I stared at the discombobulated mumble-jumble of things in the drawer, I heard myself say, "Aaahh ... this is a perfect example of my life right now!"  Then I quickly closed the drawer - as quickly as you can close an overfilled, disorganized mess of a drawer ... poking things back in with my finger while trying not to get anything pinched.  Fortunately, Daddy found a different eraser elsewhere and the duo got to work on the persnickety math problem.

I moved on to making school lunches.  As I pulled open the silverware drawer I heard a scraping sound.  Grrrrr ... as I peered in the drawer I could see that all the Pampered Chef and Tupperware receipts from the past 10 years had worked their way out from under the organizer and were making an escape ... taking several plastic forks, a bag of toothpicks and an Easter egg wire thingy with them.  Another perfect example of too much, too much, too much crammed into too little.  Again, my life in a drawer!

As I look at these two disorganized, stuffed-to-the-gills, over-flowing drawers I can see my life right now.  I see some craft supplies:  chalk for our kitchen blackboard, markers (the permanent ones I don't want anyone to find and use), the Easter egg dipper and an old sponge for wiping down the blackboard when we make a mistake.  I also see the stuff that holds things together:  glue sticks, staplers and staples, clothes pins, bag clips and several rolls of Scotch tape.  We have a box of batteries ... or at least, a box where the batteries should be.  We seem to be out ... a lot of little gadgets needing juice lately, I guess.  We have random scrapes of paper: coupons (probably expired), manuals to a variety of appliances and some unused sticky notes.  Then there are the 5 different telephone books:  Qwest, school, church, MOPS and Brett's work ... we're also holding onto passed years, too.  Just in case. :)  Of course there is lots of silverware, and plasticware and some chopsticks and a couple of random baggies of things.  Important, I'm sure.  Finally, way in the back is a baggie of keys - some labeled, some mysterious.

Hmmmm ... yep.  That's my life.

Creativity is something that is important to me and yet it's a challenge to fit it into life.  I have memories of making homemade cards and painting little trinkets.  With a full life and a full house, it's hard for me to find the time, energy and space to spread out and "get crafty!"  I still do, but it's much more planned and intentional.  Instead, I need to look for little opportunities to be creative ... and sometimes that means sitting with Ashley and coloring Strawberry Shortcake and Friends.

I definitely have found out how important my role is as the glue to help hold our home together.  Brett is a wonderfully hands-on Daddy, but he often looks to me for the rhythm of daily life.  I keep the family calendar (and work hard to keep some of it cleared) and keep track of the kids' school activities and notes.  I try hard to balance the lives of the big kids with the lives of the little ones ... making sure that nobody feels left out or bored stiff.  Helping the kids to be friends to each other and finding time for us all to connect and spend time together are my top priority as Glue-Stick Mom.

As for the batteries ... the empty box was a perfect illustration of my level of energy.  Lacking.  Of course, if I went to bed a bit earlier, I would probably have a bit more oomph ... but then I wouldn't get to hang out with Brett.  So ... I'll compensate some of my loss of sleep with a little caffeine partway through the day.  A little battery charge, so to speak.

The random bits and pieces of paper would represent the thoughts flitting through my brain during the day:  Christmas gift ideas, emails to write, things to do, popcorn prayers, questions to ask Brett later and worries & concerns about friends and family.  The busy-ness of my scatterbrained ... uh, brain.

The telephone directories would probably be all the information that I try to store and keep track of in a more organized manner.  Events, birthdays, likes and dislikes, needs and wants, upcoming visits and future trips all logged into my brain, calendar and iPod.  Remarkably, for the amount of info that I need to keep together, not too much gets forgotten.  Thank goodness!

Some of my "drawer" items are helpful tools (i.e. forks, spoons and knives).  I have a few gifts and talents that God is using right now:  am a great administrator, a good helper, an encourager to fellow moms and my sense of humor gets me through many a tough day.  These useful parts of my life are invaluable and its fun to see how God puts each one to task.

Then we have those pesky receipts in the silverware drawer.  A stack of packing slips and records of things I've purchased ... or in the case of my life:  my oopses, gaffs, mistakes, regrets and disappointments.  Unfortunately, I have a memory like a steal trap for emotional hurts and heart wounds.   And they're all stuffed down underneath the busy, productive parts of my life ... waiting for an opportunity to slip out and surprise me.  There is a great song by Sara Groves called, "All Right Here" that talks about how we carry all our life experiences along with us, day by day.  There is a terrific line in the chorus that says, "And I'm not God, I'm a girl, I confess that I don't have sea of forgetfulness".  Nope, I don't forget the hurts that I have experienced or the hurts that I have caused.  Even with heart-felt apologies and sincere forgiveness, those hurts seem to live just below the surface.  Truly I should just throw them out ... they are dated and passed, but that's hard to do.

Finally, we have that baggie of random keys.  I would say that these keys represent the opportunities I have in life.  When faced with a door of possibility, I have the choice to either open it and try this "new thing" or move on to the next door.  If I move on, I might miss out on something great.  However, sometimes the experience behind the door isn't all I'd hoped for either.  The mystery of "what's behind the door" is part of the excitement of life.  It's what keeps things interesting and it's what keeps me growing.  Not every door holds success.  Not every door leads to fun.  But every door has been fashioned by God and He has given me the key to open it.  Since I know that He is good ... I'm trying to open more of the doors He has presented to me.  Writing is one of these doors ... I'm not sure where it will lead, but I've opened it and am trusting Him to show me which door to open next.

Yes ... my life (and kitchen drawers) are filled to capacity.  But apparently, all with things I need.  When I try to clear anything out of the junk drawer or my day-to-day life, I end up with an important reason to keep everything.  I'm certain that I could simplify if absolutely necessary, but for right now, I'm willing to poke and cram just a little bit ... to keep my life like it is.

But next week might be a different story.  I'll let you know! :)

__________________________

We had KEBL this week ... be sure to check out our Family Night O' Fun! :)

Congratulations! You're a Mom!

Just a word of caution ... the follow post may be too much for non-mothers.  And it might also serve as birth-control for those considering motherhood.  Just be warned. :)
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We got word this morning that a there is new mommy and daddy at our church ... and a new little bundle of joy!  Yeah!  Watching this new mommy over the past several weeks as she was waiting for the new arrival, and then seeing a post on Facebook that she was headed to the hospital and then seeing the updated post this morning of the name and weight ... took me back a few years to Aaron's arrival and my own induction into motherhood.

Now you might think that this walk down memory lane would be all about the warm fuzzies of holding that little bundle and meeting that precious person for the first time.  It could be.  But it isn't.  This is more of a return to the Twilight Zone: the crazy new-mom-stuff someone could have warned me about - but, didn't; the deep fog that passed over my brain upon delivery and the missing days following our return home that just Poof! disappeared.

We'll start at the very beginning ...

I remember early on in my pregnancy of being sure that I wanted to deliver naturally.  Naturally, I was crazy!  When my little buddy had trouble making an entrance in the world, I was induced and spent that entire day in a pain-induced fog.  My husband and I still joke about the horrible noises I as emitting in an attempt to not scream or cry.  Think guttural.  By nighttime, I was ready for some drugs and relieved that an epidural was still an option.  When all was said and done, it did end and I did have a sweet boy to love.  But he wasn't a little baby ... he was already a kid.  I remember when they laid him across my stomach, thinking, "He's huge ... how did he fit?!"  So much for itty-bitty parts to smooch!

As they busied about cleaning my son and documenting the delivery I realized that I was ferociously hungry ... running a marathon on a piece of toast will do that to you!  Unfortunately, the hospital kitchen was closed and all the nurse could round up was a handful of saltine crackers and some peanut butter packets.  Those were the best mini-pb-cracker-sandwiches I have ever eaten!  Delish!

We headed to our room listening to the little whimpering mews of our baby Aaron.  We were both disillusioned into thinking that he would be a meek little guy ... until he let us have it a few hours later!  These two newbie, sleep-deprived, exhausted parents with a crying baby and only a few "book ideas" in our parenting tool-box ... that was fun! :)  The nurses in the maternity ward took pity on us and gave us a few hours of blissful sleep while they swaddled and rocked Aaron.  Thank you, again and again!

The next morning I woke up and ordered some breakfast ... and then proceeded to cry into my eggs and toast.  Poor Brett woke up in the torture-rack/lazy-boy-chair to his sad little wife sniffling and weeping - awash in post-pregnancy hormones.  The wise man that he is, simply patted my hand.  Eventually the sudden sadness passed and Brett asked, "Do want me to see if they can send Aaron down?"  To which I replied, "Who's Erin?"  Again ... Brett being a wise man did not laugh, he just clarified:  "Aaron, our son."  Ahhh, yes ... that would be swell!

Unfortunately, the foggy-brain syndrome didn't pass immediately.  Later that same day, Aaron was fussing and Brett asked me, "When did he eat last?  Maybe he's hungry."  I thought back over the past several hours and answered, "Uhm ... the big hand was on the 3."  Yep ... I was trying to pay attention, my brain just wasn't cooperating.  I also seemed to have a lot of trouble remembering the names of the people caring for me.  There was one lady, in particular, that was a challenge for me.  I kept calling her "Swifty" ... close - it was "Silky".

A few post-partum things I wish that someone would have filled me in on:

1. Sometime following the delivery, I was struck by a train.  That it is the only explanation for the full-body misery that I felt.  I felt like I need a body-sized ice-bag.
2. Breast-feeding is a learned skill.  It does not come naturally for mom or baby ... but with time it gets easier.  More on that later.
3. Any privacy that I might have enjoyed evaporated upon conception.  I never dreamed I would have perfect strangers helping me to have the baby "latch-on" properly ... several at one time.
4. The nurses and doctors are perfectly happy to send a defenseless baby home with an inexperienced, clueless and already-fatigued individual.  And smile and wave while she drives away.
5. It was essential that I had someone else taking care of me ... otherwise I was destined to eat breakfast at 2 pm.  I am forever grateful for the eggsalad sandwiches my mom made and kept in the fridge ... again, the most delicious morsels I had ever eaten.  Ever.
6. Stress manifests itself in a variety of ways.  For me, it was crying.  I cried.  A lot.  About everything.  
7. Sleeplessness does different things to different people.  For me, it was crying.  I cried.  A lot.  About everything.  (Did I say that already?)

We became a family in the blink of an eye ... but it took time to get to know one another and get along well.  Fortunately, we had a lot of time to learn:  days and nights and days and nights.  They all kind of blurred together!  Eventually, we soon found ourselves in a rhythm and our days and nights became less stressful and more enjoyable.  As I became more and more of a student of my son, I learned his cries and discovered that I could decipher his needs.  I also learned his likes and his dislikes and was better able to meet his needs.  I also had some help!  Daddy, books, family and friends all helped to make our transition from couple to couple+one a tad bit smoother.

We still had a couple of bumps along the road ...

The biggest one being the Breast-feeding Bump.  It was a doozy!  Aaron was a super hungry eater from the start ... he came out wanting steak, I think.  Before my milk came in he was nursing 22 hours a day ... or at least it seemed like it.  Our nurse encouraged us to supplement a bit with formula in order to help him feel full and give me a break.  That was great, except that she gave us a little dixie cup and expected us to somehow get the sweet goodness from the cup to his belly in spite of his his inability to drink from a cup.  Most of that when down his front and curdled.  Eventually, my milk came in ... with a vengeance.  The poor kid was drinking from a fire hose!  And there there were the tricky techniques to learn:   balance-the-baby-with-no-head-support and cover-yourself-properly and don't-scream-when-he-bites.  Techniques you can only learn with practice and in the privacy of your own home.  But what if, just what if, that little peanut gets hungry when you aren't at home ... and you have to nurse him ... in public?!?  I have a vivid memory of attending our birthing class reunion when Aaron was a few weeks old.  I didn't have any of these moves down yet - not even close.  I remember his meal time rolled around and we were still hanging out.  I tried to discreetly turn my chair around, cover him up and fill his belly.  What we ended up with was milk everywhere, a baby with an unsatisfying and messy meal and mommy wearing a baby blanket home to hide all the spills.  It was a disaster!  Eventually we both (baby and Mommy) figured it out ... but then he was on to solid food!  Now ... the with the next kid, I was ready and this aspect of mothering actually became a joy instead of a headache.

I also experienced the I Have Nothing to Show for My Day Bump.  Suddenly I was needed 24/7 by this little person and many of the tasks that I had previously accomplished with ease suddenly became major accomplishments.  To have the dishes done before Brett came home became one of my daily goals.  I also made it a priority to get dressed ... maybe even showered.  If it was a good day, Brett might even get treated to a hot meal ... made by me.  Essentially, I had to re-evaluate my priorities in my daily routine:  baby and family, first; house, second.  I remember it being a challenge to have a home that wasn't up to my standards on a regular basis, but the important things were getting done and the rest just had to wait.  Again, eventually, I found myself in a new familiar routine that allowed for me to enjoy being mom and tackle the day-to-day needs of our home.  It just took time.


Finally, I also experienced the My Body Will Never Ever Be the Same Bump ... or should I say, Lump. I've heard the saying, "Nine months on, nine months off" ... but I'm currently in the "Nine years off" program!  I still have a few clothing items that I have hung on to ... hoping, but most of my clothes in my closet are from my post-baby wardrobe.  Sometimes it bothers me a bit to still be carrying some of Aaron ... and the other three kiddos ... around with me, but I really have had to let this go.  Even if I was to be at my pre-baby weight, I know that my body has changed, spread, shifted.  Mainly in the hip area.  Yeah ... definitely the hip area. :)  I have had to have a change in perspective about my body ... I may not be model-worthy ... but I'm a mom.  And I have the stretch-marks to prove it!  (And just so you first time moms know ... the second (third, fourth...) kid gives you new stretch-marks!  All their very own stretch-marks!  So sweet!) 


So many memories from those first months home with my little Aaron.  Some snapshots are kinda foggy:  "Where did that picture come from ... and am I wearing your gym shorts?  Awesome."  Some snapshots are crystal-clear:  "I think he smiled.  Or maybe that was a toot and a smile ... but it was still a smile."


I just have to leave you with a song by Sara Groves that makes me cry almost every time I hear it.  It's from her album, "Station Wagon ~ Songs for New Parents".  She wrote many of these songs after her first baby was born.  It's full of wonderful prayers and lullabies with a few silly songs thrown in for fun.  I highly recommend it for your musical library.  :)  Here are the words to "Small Piece of You" ... but you really should buy it and hear it for yourself.

Small Piece of You

By Sara Groves
I just want a small piece of you a token to put in my pocket and I will own that one things and it would make me happy I just want a small piece of you somethin to put in a locket and i will look at it daily and that will make me happy I guess it's human nature to want to hold you very still I guess it's in a mother to inject a little guilt Go on son and see the world; I hope you see it all But please please please don't forget to call Free to fly free to go free to not look back That's how free I want you though it scares me half to death Free to wander miles and miles and free to come back home That's how free I want you though it chills me to the bone ...Go on son and spread your wings; I hope that you take flight But please please please don't forget to write I know you're just a baby sleeping in your bed And you probably have other thoughts drifting through your head I know this conversation's a little premature It's just that I've heard eighteen years goes by like a blur ...I know that it's not fair for me to hold you down now is it But please please please don't forget to visit Free to fly free to go free to come back home...

See ... she made me cry again! :)  Now, go hug your kids if you've got 'em.  Or at least, go call your mother! :)

Hanes, MY Way

This past Sunday, when my Mamma Mia was with us, we decided to head to Subway for lunch following church.  It was a gamble going out at that time ... who knew if we would end up waiting with four hungry, tired, whiney kids?  Gratefully, as we walked in the door we realized that we were the only ones there!  We had beaten the lunch rush and were able to order quickly ... or at least as quickly as 3 indecisive kids can when faced with six types of bread, eight different meats, 4 different cheeses and a variety of toppings! It was kind of a painful experience, but we managed to get our sandwiches and make our exhaustingly meticulous choices for chips and drinks BEFORE the lunch crowd came through the door.  Whew!  We settled into a booth just as the rest of Grand Junction came to eat! :)

As we were sitting and eating and crunching and slurping (most of the crunching and slurping coming from the kids' side of the table) I noticed a lady sitting several seats down from us.  When she got up to refill her drink, I was better able to see her shirt.  It was black with lots of silver and gray swirling designs and at the top in calligraphy it read, "Sinful".  Now ... I'm sure that I am going to show you just how fashion conscience I'm NOT because I'm sure it's some famous brand, but I thought to myself, "Of all the things I could have written on my shirt ... I wouldn't want that to be one of them."

Now, I have inherited my people-watching skills from my mom, so I was certain to point out this interesting t-shirt to her.  And so began a giggling fit about what we would have on our shirts ... or better yet, what would other people suggest should be on ours.  If only we had our own line of clothing ... then you could buy one of our shirts with the following lines:

"Unbalanced"

"Tired"

"Clueless"

"Stubborn"

"Indecisive"

"Happy-Go-Lucky"

"Half-Baked"

"Pooped"

"Unstable"
"Overwhelmed"

"Well-adjusted"

"Prepared"

"Reluctant"

"Slothful"
"Perplexed"

"Diligent"

"Difficult"

"Tenacious"
"Myopic"

"Flimsy"

"Hazardous"

"Attentive"

... I think you get the idea.

There are somethings we would want on our shirts:  Delightful, Sympathetic  and Cooperative. While there are other words that, while they would be honest ... they are not necessarily something you want broadcasted across your chest.  I would be hard-pressed to wear a true but tortuous shirt with the words Feeble, Droning or Needy on it.  Really?  Who wants that as a constant reminder?!?  Who wants a perfect stranger walking up to them and asking, "So, uh ... You are really Scatterbrained, huh?"

I am almost completely okay with close friends and family being aware of my shortcomings and flaws.  I figure they know me pretty well and can see my life from the outside of me, so they are often a good reflection of who I really am.  And seeing as they love me, I know that that they won't try to hurt me with those painful discoveries.  It helps that I also know their limitations and faults, so we are on an even playing field. :)  The other good part of having good friends and loving family is that they also help us to see our good qualities and our strengths.  When we can see ourselves through the loving and generous eyes of our loved ones, I think we get a much better picture of who we truly are.

Sara Groves has a great song about being caught up in who we aren't and needing to get back to our true selves.  Here are her poetic lyrics to "Undone".  It's not quite the same as hearing her sweet voice.

Baby can you help me get undone The party is over and their hearts were won There’s a zipper in the back But I can’t reach it on my own And I am dying to get out of this so Baby will you help me get undone I don’t even remember how I got this on I started out pretending Now I don’t recognize myself And I could use a little help You have no pretenses All your walls are fences I can see right through You have no two faces You know where our place is and that’s why I need you Oh baby Baby will you help me get undone I truly believe you are the only one Who will be the best reminder of Where I am coming from So if you’ll help me now I want to get undone Cause I started out pretending Now I don’t recognize myself And I could use a little help Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby will you help me get undone

I love the idea of my constructed personality being something I could un-zip ... if only it were that easy!

I truly can't leave out one other Person who has a pretty good idea of who I am and loves me in spite of my shortcomings.  Jesus really does love me just as He made me:  Insecure, Controlling and Impatient. He's working on my in those areas, trust me!  But when He looks at me, I know He sees me:  Graceful, Beautiful, Chosen.

What would your t-shirt say today?  Silly, Serious or Sentimental ... I'd love to hear 'em!


I'd like to thank my Thesaurus for help with today's post! :)

Am I a MOOK?!

Today was the first MOPS meeting of the year.  And as you know ... I love firsts!

I love seeing the moms I haven't seen all summer, hearing about vacations, meeting new babies, encouraging the round mommies who are progressing through their pregnancies and also landing back in that comfortable place where I am known and recognized as a fellow "mom-in-the-trenches".  The only problem this time was that today I had the sinking feeling that I am turning into one of those "veteran moms".  It's true that I have two little preschoolers and I can relate to the mom next me about diaper rash and teething ... but I also have an 8 year old boy who just drafted his first Fantasy Football team.  It's true that I remember very vividly those middle-of-the-night feedings and the hassles of pumping ... but I also have a 6 year old girl who asked me this morning for a little lip-gloss and body mist.  Apparently I have entered that interesting place of being a MOPS mom (Mother of Preschoolers), but also a MOOK mom (Mother of Older Kids).  It's not really an uncomfortable place because I still really enjoyed my morning.  But it does raise the question in my head and heart about my reasons for attending MOPS.

I guess I could answer this question a couple of different ways.  I could say that there is good food served at MOPS and so I'd be crazy to give that up!  I could say that this group is no longer relevant for me and look to get involved elsewhere.  I could keep having babies so that I'll always relate ... no wait ... that's actually NOT an option! :)  Or, I could decide that MOPS isn't actually about me and that I have this amazing opportunity to go not with a need to be met, but instead with a desire to meet someone else's need.

When I first started coming to MOPS I was needy.  With a capital "N".  We had just moved across the state.  Aaron was 9 months old.  We lived on a desolate street way out in Palisade.  You get the picture.  There was an actual desperation in my attending MOPS.  In fact, I vividly remember having plans to attend one morning and ending up in a snow storm on I-70 headed west.  Even though the church was only 8 miles away, it was impossible for me to get there and I remember coming home and just crying and crying and crying.  The next meeting wasn't for 2 whole weeks ... what was I going to do for 2 weeks?!?  It was a very lonely and difficult time in my life as a new mom.

Eventually I got into a rhythm of getting to MOPS more regularly and I could see my attitude change.  At these meetings I met other moms who could say, "Oh yeah ... my kid does that, too." or "Sorry you were up all night ... you should have called me because I was, too!"  All of a sudden I was normal, my kid was normal, my life was normal.  Whew!  I had found a safe place to share worries and fears and also successes and celebrations.  I had found a place to hear helpful tips and discovered that I had something to offer, too.  I also made some wonderful friendships that are still an encouragement today.  That is why I have chosen to serve in a number to positions at our MOPS group ... to help other moms to find that safe and encouraging place, too.

So ... what does all this mean for me in this coming year of MOPS.  For one thing, I could still use a dose of encouragement on a regular basis and I'm still learning one day at a time how to be the best mom I can be.  But, knowing that I have a few years under my belt, and that I'm still navigating the challenging years of preschoolers, I think that I can be ...


wait for it ...


a friend.

That's really it.  No one at MOPS needs me to tell them how to raise their kids.  No one needs any unasked for advice.  Certainly no one needs to hear that what they are doing is different than how I do it ... and by implication, wrong.  My plan is to come faithfully to this meeting place of moms and connect.  I want to be a sounding board.  I want to be an encouragement.  I want to be a friend.

I want to leave you with a little video by Sara Groves ... once again she has sung the words of my heart, especially regarding this topic of friendship.  Enjoy~



Sara Groves - Twice As Good from Sara Groves Music on Vimeo.


So ... how will you grow in friendships this year?  And who is someone you know, maybe just their name, who could use someone to help make life "half as bad and twice as good"?

What's this all about?

Well, it's probably about time that I jumped on the blogger-bandwagon!  


This is my high-tech attempt at combining my love of writing with my desire to chronicle life here in the Kellum house and making it accessible to anyone who might be interested.  I'm not entirely sure what this will develop into, but I know for one thing ... it ought to be entertaining!    When you put together four kids, a dog, school, gymnastics, baseball, church, marriage, parenting and day-to-day life you're guaranteed quite a cocktail of craziness!  And yet ... somewhere in the midst of all this busy-ness is the sacredness of life.  There is meaning in diaper-changing and vacuuming.  There is significance in grocery-shopping and schlepping kids from here to there.  There is purpose in dinner around the kitchen table and hammering out home-work.  How?  Because God is in the midst of this ... even this hum-drum-ness of life.  


So ... that's the plan :)  Find something special in the repetition.  Find meaning in the blah.  Find and celebrate the sacredness of life's moments ... and share those Snapshots with you.


Check back here for the usual updates on the Kellum Kids including pictures capturing their silliness and their successes.  It's inevitable that those four monkeys will work their way into this chronicle.  But wait!  There's more ... When you visit again, you might find some helpful hints, some entertaining vignettes of life apart from the kids, the inside scoop on any number of adventures and hopefully a few reminders that life is full of lots of little, BIG moments!


I'll leave you with some insight into my inspiration.  If you know me, you know that I love music ... especially when I'm in the kitchen.  The Chieftains make me want to learn to clog.  Jack Johnson helps me relax.  And Sara Groves sings what's in my heart and mind.  So ... here's a snippet of one of her songs that has opened my eyes.  It's from "Just Showed Up For My Own Life".  For more of Sarah, please check out www.saragroves.com.  You won't be disappointed.



And I just showed up for my own life
And I'm standing here taking it in and it sure looks bright


I'm going to live my life inspired
Look for the holy in the common place
Open the windows and feel all that's honest and real until I'm truly amazed
I'm going to feel all my emotions
I'm going to look you in the eyes
I'm going to listen and hear until it's finally clear and it changes our lives

Join me as I "look for the holy in the common place" ... you really can't miss it!