On Friends

Seriously have to get better about blogging more often. I say this at least 3 times/year. Maybe it will stick one of these times. I digress...

This is a short post in honor of friends. Good friends. Friends you can count on no matter what. Through marriages, children, moves, great times and hard times, they're still there. The ones that can text you about when their kid finally has a normal poop and know that you're both going to be so excited about it. Or the ones that you live far away from but know that they can call you when something's wrong, or that you can send a random text to and they just get it, and you pick up right where you left off. The friends that you ended up with because your husbands were best friends, and all of a sudden you are too.

The ones that you see three times a week and share mom life with. The ones that you see every few weeks and share non-mom life with. The ones that love your kids like their own and you take turns giving hugs and kisses and reprimands and 'do you need a time out's' and it's all just in stride because you know you love each other and your kids and you're doing this whole parenting thing together. When your marriage isn't doing well and they know it's OK to ask you about it. When they're stressed and life is crazy and they need to vent and you sit for 3 hours at a Mexican restaurant and just hash it out. When you can say 'Praise the Lord!' and 'life is shitty' in the same breath and they completely understand.

I have a good friend getting married, and have had multiple friends with hard marriages. I have a best friend moving away soon, and I'm still going to be here. I have friends that I am growing with, and friends that our relationships have changed over the years, as we have changed.

I have friends. Great ones. Ones that I don't know where I would be without them. Sometimes I categorize them: the Fab Five. Small Group. Moms. Far-away friends. But really? I am so, so thankful for all of them. Walking through life with people isn't something to be taken for granted, and each and every one of them is so dear to me.

So, as I lie in bed with a sudden case of some flu-like ick, I wanted to take 5 minutes away from binge-watching Parenthood to write this. Because I had a girls night with some of them last night. And MOPS with some of them this morning. And a couple of those friends at my house today, who knew it was OK to stay all afternoon even if I had to go lie down. Who knew that our home is their home and our boys are going to grow up together, wherever we live. Who have seen us at our very worst and our very best, our ugly cries and our joyous shouts.

To all my friends: I am so grateful for you.

Also, Katie, please don't leave. Thanks. :)

On FPIES

So, my son has FPIES. (food protein induced enterocolitis syndrome: (Here's the list of foods he can't eat: animal milk or milk products, soy, corn, egg, rice, chickpeas, lentils, quinoa, pears, green beans, peas, nuts and nutmeg. And being outside triggers reactions, because some pollen is too similar to eggs. We haven't tried meat yet...too complex of proteins.) I sometimes hate talking about it because I don't want to be 'that mom'. I already feel like 'that mom' anytime we're around other people with food: 'Do you have an allergy list for your restaurant?' 'Oh, we brought our own food.' 'Can I read that label?' 'No Graham! Don't eat that!' You get the picture.

Also, I know that while it can be difficult and frustrating and emotionally taxing, that overall Graham is healthy and happy and we are so blessed. So I don't want to ever come across as 'oh we have it so hard.' We don't.

But, at the same time, I realize that 'hard' can be relative sometimes. And this is my blog, so can I share that sometimes, it IS hard? And sometimes I get angry about it? And sometimes I accept it and am grateful for it and how much we've learned? And sometimes I can't stand seeing another rash, or another vomiting episode, or finding poop in random places on the floor from so much poop, or 5 cranky days in a row because he just.doesn't.feel.good. And it breaks my heart.

Like tonight. Jim was gone for 14 hours today between work and an after-work commitment. Which were both good things, just made for a long day. And when our day ended with a child with a bad rash and a large mess that I won't go into, and I didn't know what it was from except that it was an allergic reaction to something, that I just wanted to be done with it. But then there was a boy in a bathtub with bubbles, asking to stay up and play 'for just one more minute!' and saying 'mommy pat me and sing one more song' in bed...and I'm tired and spent and melting to pieces all at the same time.

This life is not at all what I thought 'mommyhood' was. It's harder, more tiring and more mundane, all at once. (let's be honest) But it's also more full, and rich, and funny and wonderfully exhausting than I ever dreamed. I don't know what I'm doing most days, but I wouldn't trade it.

To end, some Graham quotes from today:

When I finished with our recycling: 'You all done recycling! Good job, mom.' (he's started calling me mom. Not OK.)

After giving him a sip of my black coffee: 'Mmm! That bery tasty.'

Anytime: 'I want to watch just a wittle bit of TV.'

After a long nap (first in DAYS): 'I all done seeping, mom. Mommy come pay in my room!'

Anytime I suggest doing anything other than what he is doing: 'I do dis for a feeew more minutes. I do dis first, then I do that.'

2 going on 15, seriously. I love him. I don't know what to do with him, but I love him.

Starting Over

January. The time of year when you can start fresh. A clean slate, a crisp calendar, and new resolve to actually improve all of those things that you planned on improving last year. For me, it meant seriously sticking to routines.

Fresh out of the holiday merriment, and with that the complete and utter lack of any semblance of a routine, this Type-A driven person was about to lose her marbles. I enjoy the holidays just as much, if not more than, the average person; but, with children, lack of structure can drive one to insanity in the form of 20 hour road trips and teething toddlers overtired from lack of sleep and hyped up on attention from family.

I like to imagine I'm one of those free-flowing moms, who just goes wherever the wind takes us: exploring, gallivanting through fields on the side of the road...you get the picture. But what I've realized is, I like to be that type of mom if I've planned to be that type of mom. My weekly calendar will say something like: 'Thursday, Gallivant.' And then I'll feel as though I'm wild and free...I may even plan to wear a flowy dress, for effect.

So, fresh off the holiday high, like many people do, we experienced a few sad days of mourning known as 'The Holidays are Over.' Also entitled 'Where Did All the Parties Go?' 'Why Can't I Just Sit and Drink Wine?' and 'What Happened to All the Built-In Babysitters Family?' After about 3 days, we started to rally. We were going to get this new year started off right, dang it! And then I got the stomach flu. Like, the for real, gross, everything-you-think-about-when-you-say-the-words-'stomach-flu' flu. 2 days later, Graham had allergy testing and FPIES diagnosis. The next day, daddy got the stomach flu. 2 days later, I got a concussion.

What was that? Oh, yes. PSA: baby gates are out to kill you. Really. I was just minding my own business, holding some poop stained pants from my non-napping son, when it jumped out of nowhere and tripped me. (Nowhere actually happened to be in the door where it was supposed to be at the time, and tripping was more like 'I have short person legs'). Cue dramatic head over heels fall where I cracked my head on our hall clock. Like any wise person would do, I decided the best way for Graham and I both to move past this was to have a dance party and also lift him above my head 50 times. 2 days later I was in the ER getting a CT scan. While I was in my time of 'utter darkness' as I fondly refer to it, the next week, our overly-zealous son reached for Jim and scratched his (Jim's) cornea in 2 places. (I joked with Jim that our first routine could be weekly ER visits. He didn't find it as funny as I did.) And there's a lot of other uncertainties that are popping up, like jobs and where we're living and you know, minor life changes. (I have to pause and say we have the absolute best friends and family who we can not thank enough for caring for us for the past 2 weeks!! Seriously.)

So, here it is, January 27th, and we're kind of-sort of starting our routines. Believe it or not, 2 weeks of extreme quiet allows one to do a lot of thinking. I'll write more about that some other time, as I actually learned a lot. For now, we're starting over. New resolve. New perspective. New routines.

2014, here we come!

This is the bread.

When Graham was about 16 months old, he had a slight toast obsession. By slight, I mean toast morning, noon and night was just fine by his standards. But there was only one kind of bread he could eat, and Whole Foods was the only place that sold it, so we would stock up on 5 loaves at a time. Every time we put it in front of him, we would ask him to thank Jesus for his food, and he would look at it and calmly say 'This is the bread.' It cracked us up every time; he was so matter of fact about it, and so excited for bread every.single.time.

It's been quite the journey with his food intolerances/allergies/general craziness, and while it's become normal life by now, there are times it strikes us just how 'different' his life is from a lot of kids'. One of these times was this past weekend at his cousin's birthday party, where Jim took this picture:

Every other child there was happily eating pizza and cupcakes; Graham, however, had pasta, black beans and sweet potatoes. And he too, was eating happily, completely oblivious to what he was 'missing'. This is a kind of common grace, and by no means from anything we as parents have done. It's a blessing that he is so content. It's also humbling. And it makes me wonder...

When he used to say 'this is the bread', I wonder if it wasn't so much a statement of generality, but possibly of acceptance. Learning that this - this bread, this life, this lot - was given to him. And not only that, but he said it when we talked about praying and thanking God for his food. 'This is the bread' was not just a statement (although it was hilarious - I really wish we had it on video) - it was an offering of thanks, thanks for what was given to him. It wasn't just a passive acceptance either. It was conscious and willful. Sometimes I wonder if he had to say it to remind himself that this is what he was given, and what he was given was good for him.

I know, I know. Far too  existential and deep for a 16 month old. Regardless, it's a good lesson for me, for all of us, really. That our lives, our circumstances, hardships, outwardly 'good' things - all of them are our bread. They were given to us for our good. Maybe that's obvious, maybe it's not. But rather than just mundanely accepting 'this is my life for better or for worse', it really spurs me to be consciously thankful and aware that it's all a gift; it's all for my good - the mundane, the exceptional, the horrible, the sad, the happy, the exciting, the terrible, the sad - every moment is given.

This is the bread. Amen.

The Yellow Tree

Autumn in Virginia. There is nothing quite like it. The year I transferred to school here I was hooked. Jim and I started dating in the fall, we got engaged in the fall; I wanted to get married in the fall but we decided 8 months was plenty long for an engagement so August it was. When I got pregnant, I was so excited that our baby was going to be born in the fall. His due date was November 1st, but I was adamant he was going to come early, during October, THE best month of the year.

October came and went and no baby. November 1, 2, 3...all the way through the 6th passed and still no baby. He finally made his grand entrance early in the morning of the 8th. I remember sitting in the hospital room the day we brought him home, exhausted, elated, weepy, excited and scared. I looked out our window and it was a picture perfect Autumn day - blustery, an odd warmth, spats of rain and leaves fluttering everywhere. That gave me a sense of calm, of knowing that my whole world may have just changed, but THE world didn't change.

Fast forward to a week later. We had one ravenous little boy on our hands and breastfeeding was far from a walk in the park. I had the baby blues big time and was in a fog. My mom was here and did a fabulous job of making sure I got outside in the sunshine every day. I'm so glad she did. We have a silver maple in our backyard, and it's always one of the last trees to turn. 2 years ago, it's like it was waiting for Graham; On Graham's one week birthday,  (the 15th of November) our silver maple was in its full glory, brilliantly yellow and breathtaking.

We took a picture in front of that tree, and it's one of my favorites. You can see just how tired we are, and just how small Graham is. But you can also see hope. We had no idea how much harder the few months ahead would be, learning about a baby and severe allergies and reflux, about how a hair dryer running for 3 hours straight may be the only thing to get the screaming to stop, about how sometimes, we may need more help than we can give ourselves. What we also didn't know was the joy, the excitement and the complete and total new way of life that we would experience,;one full of firsts, of seeing the world through new eyes, of learning that fast isn't best and family is everything. Of learning to re-prioritize, to say yes to less so we could say yes to the things that really mattered. And of days full of giggles and smiles (sometimes tantrums and whining), of trains and books and tickle fights.

That yellow tree has waited for Graham's birth week the past two years; this week it's at its peak. I just stand in our dining room staring at it with a smile on my face some days. Knowing that we don't always know what lies ahead, but that our God is good, and He has plans for us we could never have dreamed if we tried. Plans that may include hard things, but plans that will bring so, so much joy.

Happy Birthday week Graham! You are treasured and loved. And now you're waking up, so I have to go. :)

Learning to Live

My last post was exactly one month ago. In my mind, I should have my 'new' routine/life down by now, but umm...yeah. Graham and I were gone for 2 weeks visiting family, so really I've only been 'home' for a couple of weeks. Still, my expectations for myself far exceed my reality (this tends to be a bit of a pattern).

I have a pile of clothes next to me falling out of suitcases still to be unpacked. Our living room, which was nice and tidy when we arrived home (thanks husband!), is now a chaos of toys, random shoes and other odds and ends. I have a list of projects (and a birthday party!) to work on but am not quite sure where to even start. And I chide myself for not having this all together.

Last night, all of this just overwhelmed me. Our weekend went far from planned; we all came down with the crud and missed a party we'd been looking forward to for months. So I think we were all in a bit of a downer mood, and tired to boot. I just couldn't see the point of the dailiness of this, of what I'm really 'accomplishing' in cleaning my kitchen 6 times a day, or reading the same Thomas book over and over and over until I hide it (and forget to return it to the library). And I'll be honest, I don't think it's good for a kid's social awareness to only see mommy all the time, or to always have mommy at their grasp. It's not good for mommy either.

I did a lot of praying and talking to Jim, who reminded me to 'get out of my head'. Being analytical has its benefits, but over-thinking isn't one of them. I don't have to have everyday figured out. It's OK. There is grace. --- these are going to be my repeated mantras for the time being; if you hear me saying them out loud, I'll understand a slight look of pity on your part, no offense taken.

I think (see...here I go again, analyzing.) one of the biggest things I'm learning is to just live. Life is made to have order, yes. Routines are good (the sun does rise and set everyday...God is a God of order), but being too caught up in doing prevents us from just being. I've written a little about this before, and there are blogs upon blogs upon books upon songs upon, well, you get it. I'm not sure when the term 'human race' came about, but I think we've taken it quite literally. I know I am easily caught up in that: if I'm not participating, creating, doing, ordering, cleaning, planning...then I'm not being very useful.

Ironically, it's Thomas the Tank Engine himself who has opened my eyes to this. They are constantly talking about being a 'really useful engine'. Which has it's merits, and it's cute, I get it. But isn't that the pressure we put on ourselves? Being a 'really useful mom' or a 'really useful wife' or a 'really useful worker'? Not to say we shouldn't be doing our very best at everything - we should. But being our very best at everything, or always doing, shouldn't be our focus, our drive, and what motivates us. I think I've been in that mode for so long it's a bit like culture shock to not always be doing something that is always visibly productive.

But I want Graham to understand that love is without conditions - the love that God gives. It's not based on merit, or how 'really useful' I am. I am chosen, period. No reasons, no qualifications. Living in this reality is what truly gives any season of my life meaning. Whether I'm raising children at home, working a hectic job, pursuing education, living on a farm and raising chickens, or any other number of things. If I find my value and worth in what I'm doing in that season of life, I'll always be disappointed and lost when it ends. Learning to live goes far beyond my daily surroundings, down to the very depths of who I am. Only then will I understand the joy that can be found anywhere, at any time.

I visited my old job today. It was great to see people that it feels like I haven't seen in much longer than a month, but it also felt like I was talking to an ex-boyfriend for the first time since we broke up. Slightly awkward, still some mushy feelings there (*wink wink*), but at the same time, realizing it's right. Hard, frustrating and strange at times, but right. While I miss that season of life, I'm wakening up to the fact that this new season - whether long or short - is going to have just as big an impact on my life, in ways that only remain to be seen.

One week in

This motherhood stuff is not for wimps.

I say that like I didn't know. I've been a mom for almost 2 years, and have already had some doozies thrown at us. But seriously. Almost-2-year olds all day long are exhausting. My house is less clean than it was when I was working. I want to go to bed at 8 pm every night. I had a beer for lunch this week. How's that for expectations being thrown out the window?

Thankfully, I have a very loving and understanding husband. While I was lamenting the other night over how much I did not have my act together, he let me know that he doesn't care. He doesn't care if the house is a mess or everything isn't done. He knows this season is short, and wants me to enjoy it. So if I play all day with our son and use nap time to just read or craft or whatever, that's what he wants. I have a keeper, just saying.

Speaking of crafts, let's talk about those for a minute. I am NOT a crafty person. I like decorating. I like making gifts look pretty that are semi-homemade. But let's face it: crafts are not my forte'. However, this week I found myself texting pictures to my husband of random crafts I was making. I'm pretty sure he thought there was another woman in his home. 3 weeks ago, my days were spent managing an office and talking policy. Now I'm chasing a toddler and making crafts. Not any less important - just using a side of my brain that did not get used much before. Talk about a transition! It's a good one, but definitely harder than I expected. In some ways, it's like going back to that whole 'I just had a baby' feeling. I'm having to figure out our days again, what kind of schedule, what is best for Graham, how much we go, how much we stay home.

Today, my gracious husband has the boy all day. I have happy Autumn music playing, it's gray and rainy out, a yummy smelling candle is burning and I think I'm going to read a book. My house is still a mess, but hey, I'm here a lot now, so I think it can wait for a while. We'll get into the swing of things eventually, but in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy today!