Love My Hard Working Men

My kids are some of the hardest workers out there.

They see dirt and they know how to move it. They know how to transport it. They know how to dig it.

They don’t worry about getting their hands dirty. Or about the job being too tough. They just do it.

They know how to concentrate on the job. They stay focused and don’t get distracted.

They know about safety. And about hard hats. And about helmets are good substitutes. Even if they are much (much much) too small.

And they know how to work together. Most of the time.

Love my hard working men.

Love. This. Kid

I love each one of my three sons with my whole heart… in a way that only a mother can. They are each precious to me in different ways and bring joy inexpressible joy to my heart and life. 

This is my dear Joshua. My middle son. My 3 “but I’m almost 4!!” year old beauty.

Oh boy, do I Love.This.Kid

I love him for his shining smile and his wide spaced teeth.

I love him for his tender heart and his sensitivity that far exceeds any 3 year old I've ever met.

I love him for his attention to detail and his love for fine art. I love that he always notices when I paint my toenails, or am wearing a new pair of shoes.

I love that he loves to cook, mix, roll, and knead. I love that he’s comfortable in the kitchen.

I love that he looks like me.

I love him for his creativity, for his joy and vitality, and for the Light that shines in and through him. I love that he loves his God. Our God.

Lord, thank you for my sons. Each one.

I’m dreaming of…

The other day the boys asked me what a “white” Christmas was. So I explained it meant SNOW. That everything was covered with beautiful, powdery melt-in-your-mouth, freezing cold, snow.

Even after my explanation they seemed confused.

But then I paused and looked around. We were sitting on our backyard porch in shorts and bare feet. We were eating a picnic lunch and reviewing our science lesson. We were warm and content in 69 degree weather… in the middle of December.

I guess it’s not a wonder that they didn’t understand.

What is up with this place called the South? And why don’t we have SNOW??!?!?!

Though I’ve only enjoyed a few truly white Christmases myself, I feel kind of bad for them. Most mornings Joshua peeks out the window and says, “Ahhhh!! No snow. It’s not Christmas.”

Little Sweetheart

 

Lost in the thought…

But always ready to say, cheese.

I love this kid.

December Photo Project, Day 10

Bedtime kisses

I was thinking last night, as I tucked the boys in bed, that bedtime kisses are such a precious way to end the day.

Often as we get ready for bed, I feel rushed and hurried, trying to get teeth brushed, clothes in the laundry and the last toys picked up before bowing our heads to pray together and sing a bedtime song.  I often feel an overwhelming desire to “just get them in bed already!!”

But you know, there is something about bedtime kisses that just makes the world stop.  The hurry, the rush, the fatigue… it stops.

And for a moment or two, or ten, we slow down. We breathe deep. And we enjoy those tender snuggles and kisses from our three little boys.

Isaiah likes to give 5 kisses and 5 hugs and likes to count them out as he gives them. It always makes me smile when I imagine him catching his breath and gasping for air in between kisses in order to shout: “One!” “Two!” “Three!” etc. My cheeks are always damp at the end… but its an endearing kind of dampness, the kind that fills me with happiness as I take in his warm breath and soft skin.

Joshua likes to give 2 kisses and 2 hugs. And he likes to divide the kisses between cheeks. He often grows distraught if he forgets to give each cheek an equal amount, and says things like, “Mommy!! I wanted to do two kisses on this side AND two kisses on that side so that they have the same ma‘mount.” And so we begin the kissing count down again, making sure each side receives the proper portion. I love being kissed so devotedly.

Noah is in on the act as well. He doesn’t count or measure his kisses, he just gives loud, wet smacks, and says “Mmmmmmah” as he does it. It’s so sweet it gives me shivers. Noah also makes sure to offer a few bedtime smackers to his brothers. He stands at the foot of the bunk-bed with arms stretched high, waiting to be lifted up to kiss his big brother on the top bunk. It melts my heart.

These bedtime kisses bring my day to such a precious close. I always leave the room, (as Nick sits down to read to them from a “chapter book” --currently the Chronicles of Narnia), with a smile on my kiss stained face.

Oh these boys and their sweet little kisses! Oh, may the day never come when they are too big to kiss their mama.

Or… too big for their mama to kiss them.

Because, I admit, I’m not the only one whose cheeks are covered in love. Truly, I cannot resist their round little cheeks, chubby little toes, and soft little hands and I smother my boys at least as many kisses as I receive.

Oh boy, I love it. And I’ll kiss them till the day I die.

God is good.

Just a Barrel Full of Laughs

Life is just a barrel full of laughs around here. Mostly. The boys are as carefree as ever, and their cheerfulness and childishness keeps me young. I hope we never forget these golden days of summer and afternoon “swims” like this one!!

Yes, these golden days of summer, and these imaginative playful little boys of mine. Oh my, they keep me busy and they fill my soul with sunshine.

I’ve really needed that sunshine lately too. We’re well into Day #15 and I’m suffering a major case of the dreary weary’s. (if you haven’t heard of the dreary weary’s, you should check this fun children’s book out from the library. Fun book.) Anyway, I’m pushing past them as best I can, praying and trusting in God for help, but I’m feeling pretty wiped out.

It’s hard to know how to handle the wiped out feeling. Stay busy so I don’t sit around and mope. Or sit around and mope… and drink Starbucks. So far, it’s been the former. And truth be told, I haven’t really had a choice. The whole staying busy bit doesn’t take any effort. This whole week we’ve had non-stop all day scheduled events/happenings.

Part of me just wishes I could just sit around and mope. But I’ve discovered that even my attempts at downtime in this single parenting/house running household of mine are nigh impossible. I opted out of our weekly play date, (which is typically considered downtime itself—time at the park with friends, lunch out, happy kids etc) so that I could just stay home for once this week… and sit around… doing another hour of school time with the boys, mowing the lawn, changing furnace filters, cleaning the kitchen, and making FRG phone calls. You know, sitting around type stuff. Noah knows all about it, don’t you, Honey?

But in my failed attempts at relaxation and my overwhelming dreary weariness, I’ve found myself meditating on 2 Corinthians 4:16-18.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

I have felt lately that I’m outwardly wasting away, that my body is weak and tired (despite getting good sleep and exercise), and that my troubles are anything but “light and momentary.” But this verse helps put things so wisely into perspective. An eternal perspective. This life is HARD. There are tests and trials on every corner. Keeping up with all the busy-ness of life and trying to do it all for God’s glory. It’s not easy, Baby! Even if the smiles on my kids faces might tell you otherwise. It’s draining. It takes a lot out of you.

But… it’s temporary. It’s but for a moment. And it’s achieving an eternal glory that far outweighs the trials, the work, the trouble, the effort. That far outweighs them all. What a beautiful promise and hope to those who are weary.

It’s such an encouragement, I might just go find a big blue bucket full of water and jump in myself.

 

*If you don’t hear from me for a while, it means I’m stuck in the bucket. Please help.

A doozy of a day

Yep it’s been a doozy

It’s my birthday today. I’ve been blessed with twenty nine years of wonderful life. And it’s been a great and wonderful and beautiful day.

Only it didn’t start that way. In fact, it started quite the opposite. Let me go back to this early (early early) this morning.

It’s 5am and I’m awakened by a piercing yell of my dear little Noah. At first I roll over and try to ignore. Wrapped up in a happy dream of beaches and waves on the shore. Maybe Nick will get up with him, I think. But then I realize that Nick’s not home. And not going to be home again for quite awhile. I feel sadness as the realization of his absence hits me. And even sadder as the yelling doesn’t stop for the room next door. And sadder still when I remember today is supposed to be a special day. It’s my birthday.

I stumble out of bed to check on Noah, soothe him back to sleep, and tip toe out of his room, just hoping that I’ll be able to catch a few more minutes of shut eye before my alarm goes off at 6.

But I can’t sleep. I want to, but I’m stuck in the tossing turning almost awake, but almost asleep state of unrestful rest. My one year old keeps squawking now and then too, so each time I drift off, I’m awoken again. Finally I just get up.

As Noah smacks away on his morning bottle, I pull out my bible and try to get a few moments of quiet devotion in before the other boys wake up. But I’m cranky now too. And struggling to be grateful and focused in my prayer and reading time. And before I really get anywhere with my reading, I hear the other two boys wake up and not two pleasant words were exchanged between them before the fighting began.

Sigh oh sigh sigh sigh.

It’s my birthday. Can’t we all just get along? And be happy all day?

Josh woke up on the wrong side of bed. He realized a toy wasn’t in his bed, and worse, he found it in Isaiah’s hands. Whining and fighting, followed by more fighting and whining. Josh cannot get it together. Every word from his mouth is filled with rebellion and contrariness. My sweet and tenderhearted boy struck with a case of Mr Grumpy’s. And the hardest part? Disciplining consistently and training kids to obey regardless of how they feel, to follow God’s commands whether we feel like it or not. Whether we miss daddy or not. Whether we got enough sleep or not. Whether we have the prized toy or not.

So while I’m dishing out discipline right and left, Noah is playing with my cell phone and calls far and distant friends in far and distant time zones, and I begin receiving worried phone calls from elderly friends and formers pastors, “I got 3 calls from your number early this morning, is every thing okay?? We’ve been worried”

Meanwhile, Isaiah dumps out several board games and all their pieces in his bed, and then while trying to recover a lost cherry from Hi-Ho-Cheerio, he rips a page of his favorite book and dissolved into traumatized tears.

And what do I do? Oh competent accomplished sophisticated mother that I am?

I just sit down on the floor and laugh. I laughed and laughed and laughed. The boys said, “Mom!?!?!? What are you laughing for?” and between guffaws and giggles, I say, “It’s either laughing or crying, Guys!!”

And it was. Cause oh boy, I could have cried up a storm. It’s my birthday and my husband just left. It’s my birthday and there’s no birthday greetings whispered in my ear first thing this morning. There are no birthday kisses left on my lips. And it’s Labor day, and there’s no special packages or cards or boxes waiting to be delivered by a mailman on a National holiday. No mail at all. No Fed Ex or UPS either. It’s my birthday, and my kids aren’t old enough to bake me a cake, or buy and wrap gifts. It’s my birthday. My 29th birthday.  My last birthday in my 20’s. Oh boy, it really really was LAUGH. Or CRY.

But I was able to laugh. God gave me the grace, the joy, the love, the patience… to laugh. To laugh at my boys. And life. And my situation. Oh and a merry heart makes good like medicine.

It was just what I needed too, because as we headed to the breakfast table, the meltdowns continued. Josh had to be excused from the table 3 times because he couldn’t keep it together (literally crying over spilled milk). I found myself waiting and wishing for Nick to call, knowing that he would try so hard to call on my birthday. Only to go grab my phone and realize that he had called. Twice.

AND MY SILLY PHONE WAS ON VIBRATE so I didn’t hear it and didn’t get it and totally missed my one opportunity to talk with my hubby.

Sigh. Major big-time. I shed a few tears over this one, I admit. Nuts!!

We finish breakfast and devotions and I load the dishes into the dishwasher, with my trusty Noah helper (and dishwasher unloader) by my side. And then I hear it. Gail's of glee from the back of the house. I head back to check on my boys, who had literally been left alone for 5 minutes, and find my bedroom door closed. Sigh.

I open the door to see two little naked boys jumping on my bed. “Where are your clothes?,” I ask. “We took them off, and put them in a pile, and then peed on them!!!” is the cheerful response.

And I laugh. I laugh so hard, so long, so purely and blissfully, I almost had to add my clothes to the pile of peed on laundry.

Oh what a morning. Not the birthday morning, I’d anticipated, but as my mom suggested, a very very memorable birthday in birthday history.

The rest of the day went (relatively) smoothly from there, and was filled with phonecalls and texts and emails and Facebook posts that delighted my heart all day. And as I was going down the grocery store aisles this afternoon, I wished out loud that Nick would be able to call again. No sooner had the words left my lips, when my phone rang. And it was Nick. And were able to talk for a few minutes before we hurried off to soccer practice.

Then tonight, a handful of girlfriends came over and cheered my spirits so completely, I can’t even express. We fellowshipped long and freely and enjoyably. And we ate birthday cake like crazy. I was showered with love and gifts and made to feel so special.

And here at the end of the day, I’m truly able to look back on the days events and praise God for every moment of it. And even more so, to remember the past twenty nine years that I’ve enjoyed and to say, God is good. The ups and downs, the joys and trials, the good, the bad, the ugly. God is good.

Hair

My son, Joshua, has the best "right-out-of-bed-in-the-morning" hair.

No mousse, gel, or hairspray needed, just pure and natural bedhead.

Even the hairstyling commercials and magazine covers can't get it to look this good.

Often times, when I see him in the morning, I'm not able to contain my laughter (can you?). And I'll say, "Josh, let's go look in the mirror" so that we can laugh and smile at it together. Afterall, it's good to learn to laugh at yourself. And often times, we end up laughing at my hair too.

Yep, he get's his wild hair genes from someone...

Anyway, this particular morning, I took him to the bathroom mirror and said, "Joshua, look at this wild wonderful hair of yours. It's beautiful! And do you know what? God made it this wild and wonderful way. God knows each one of your hairs, he know's the number of them, he knows the direction that they are pointing this morning. God know's all things."

Josh smiled deeply and fluffed his hair.

Then I said, "And do you know what else, my dear Joshua? God cares for each one of these hairs on your head. And if he cares and knows each one of your wild and crazy strands of hair, how much more, does He know and love you!?!"

 Matthew 10:29-30

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

It was a sweet moment of laughter and meditation together. Not only was it another chance to share God's Word, but also an opportunity to demonstrate that God's word is not just for our evening family devotions, or Sunday at church-- it's something that should permeate every thought, action, and yes, even every reflection in the mirror.

Love

 

We went to the park multiple times this week. The weather is perhaps as perfect as it gets here in the South so we’re taking advantage before the blistering summer heat kicks in.

Though humid, it hasn’t been more than 85 degrees and during each park trip there has been a pleasant cooling breeze ruffling through a hair.

As I said, it’s been just about perfect.

On one particular trip to the park, I took my 3 year old Joshua up to the bathroom. He’d been doing his little potty dance on the playground equipment and I was afraid he was going to do the unmentionable next to a nearby tree… so I called him and he cheerfully obeyed

We walked together, down the path, to the park restrooms. Josh prancing along beside me, sliding his feet in the dust.

Then he reached up and slid his hand into mine. I gave it a squeeze and thought how much I love this little boy. And then Joshua looked up at me and said,

“Mom, you’re my best friend.”

Squeezing back a tear, I knelt down and circled my arms around him and said, “I love you, my Joshua”

As he hugged me back, he said

“And I love you, my Mommy”

 

It just made my heart melt.

Pride

This past weekend, we were able to watch Nick perform his paratrooping skills again. Many of his jumps are at night, and many of them have follow-on missions, so we are not able to see him jump very often.

But when we are able to go… boy do we love it!. And I’m pretty sure Nick loves to jump for us. I don’t think I saw a frowning face from anyone that whole morning. Or if I did, I just chose to ignore them. Wink wink.

It’s hard to describe the feelings I have inside as I watch Nick jump. Fear. Anxiety. Joy. Patriotism. Amazement.

My breath always catches when I see the first paratrooper exit the plane… and I pray until I see the last one jump and all the parachutes open.

And just like the crew on chute detail, I’m thankful to count out the reserve parachutes… and to note that not a single one was needed.

But I think the biggest emotion that fills my heart is pride.

Huge, overwhelming, all-encompassing, pride.

My husband is a paratrooper and fearlessly jumps out of planes; ready and willing to serve our country at a moments notice.

Wow.

Guess I’m not the only one who thinks Daddy is amazing.

Ball Popper

Birthdays are a big deal in this house. At least to the boys and I. My husband doesn’t care too much about them, but he humors us and spoils us rotten anyway

But the boys and I… oh yeah, we’re all about birthdays. We love talking about cake and icecream, about parties and balloons, about presents and wrapping paper. It just gives us all shivers.

I don’t think it’s necessarily greed or discontentment that spurs us on, although that could certainly be part of it, but I think we mostly just love presents and surprises.

So a few weeks ago, the boys were talking about birthdays, and Josh (3yrs) said,

“Oh Mommy, for my burfday (birthday), I’d like one of dose (those) ball popper fings (things) with the air blower fings (things).” (we’re working on his “th’s”, can you tell?)

Not completely certain what he was talking about, Josh was kind enough to point it out to me the next time we were at Wal-Mart. I quickly noted that the ball popper “fing” was definitely a cool contraption (at the bottom a fan blows air that pushes light weight balls up the center cylinder. The balls go flying into the air and then drop back down, land on a slide, and come back to the fan to start the cycle over again. Very cool). But I also noted the toy was targeted as a play thing for 9-18month olds. Joshua seemed to note this at the same time as I did (seeing the baby on the front of the box) and he all of a sudden exclaimed,

“MOOOOOM!! I KNOW!! We can get the ball popper for Noah’s burfday! He’d love it. I know he would!”

And since I’m one that loves buying gifts as much as receiving them… AND since it touched my heart to see Joshua’s look of joy and excitement as he imagined getting Noah the BEST TOY IN THE WORLD, I agreed. The fact that it was the last one AND in the clearance section because the box was squashed may have played into it too.

So we bought it.

And we gave it to Noah on his birthday last week.

Fun and smiles like you wouldn’t believe.

 

And yes, Joshua is actually politely covering his mouth in one picture because he is laughing so hard. Oh man. I love these boys.

And since I’m sure all you fashionista’s were wondering, yes, I do let my boys dress themselves. And yes, their favorite colors are red and orange. And yes, yes, yes, they almost always wear their two favorite colors together.

Sigh.

Things I love today

Today has been a wonderful productive busy day.

While I feel myself heaving a giant sigh of joy (and relief) now that I am at the end of it, I can’t help but feel amazingly blessed and contented at the blessings of the Lord.

To name a few…

Backyard swings and evidences of brotherly love. Oh boy, do these boys love each other… and the swings. Thank you, Father, for my boys.

 

Next, I would have to mention sunny warm days and cold sweet tea. Such sweet spring days and cool wet refreshment are gifts from God alone.

*As a random side note, I’ve discovered a few delicious sweet tea variations with a little fiddling around. Peach iced tea with a splash of peach juice (tastes like Snapple), raspberry iced tea with a shot of raspberry syrup and/or fresh raspberries, and, of course, peppermint iced tea with peppermint leaves (and/or peppermint schnapps!) So good.

 

Then comes the discounts and the flower beds. A bargain hunter like me would be remiss not to mention how joyful I was to see the 50% off sign on these perfectly good petunias. Perfectly good petunias. Nice. Can’t wait to get these puppies planted in pots around the deck.

And speaking of the deck…

 

I’m so thankful for Navajo Red Paint. Isn’t it gorgeous? It’s the accent color for the exterior of our home. I loved our house the very moment I first saw it… and loved it even more for the red door, red garages, and red shutters bursting with color. So pretty. The backyard deck is red too. And, as of this afternoon, it is all decked out (no pun intended) with a fresh coat of this deep dark paint.

If I’m honest, I’ll also mention that my hands, feet, and legs… as well as my boys extremities were covered with the paint earlier today too. What can I say? A girl can’t paint around here without some help from the boys. Apparently.

 

I also can’t help but say how thankful I am for a God who hears prayer and cares about even my little garden in the back yard. I seeded these amazing green beans (along with peas, cucumbers, peppers, tomatoes and a whole slew of herbs) 2 weeks ago. The weather has been warm for quite some time, and it was the perfect planting day. However… three days after I planted, we had a torrential rain storm. Inches of rain in just a few hours… and I found myself praying fervently that my garden would still grow. And would you believe it? It did. Every single plant that should have germinated by now, has. Wow! God is good.

 

Last, but certainly not least, I’m thankful for freckles. It appears that at least one of my little boys will take after his mother and don these adorable sun-kisses.

I know there were days in my childhood that I despised my freckles, but mostly, I just loved them. I loved how they’d start with a few here and there, and then slowly multiply, adding dimension and variety to my face. I did.  do. I love freckles. And I loved spotting them on Isaiah’s nose this afternoon.

 

Thank you, Lord, for your mercies that are new every morning. Thank you for giving me such joy in the little things. Great is Thy faithfulness.

Caught Red Handed

This past week, my 9 month old, Noah, had his well baby check-up at the local Army clinic.

I sort of dread going there. The clinic is almost always a zoo.

 Don't get me wrong, I love my military health care benefit. But I don't always find the place the most accomodating for 3 little boys and their young mother (yes, I still call myself young).

There are too few chairs in the waiting rooms
Too few bathrooms for mild bladdered two year olds
Too few TV screens with cartoons playing
Too few quiet nooks for breastfeeding mothers
And too many minutes spent waiting to see a physician.

The zooishness of the clinic often spills outside the facility's walls and into the parking lot as well:

Too few parking spaces for minivans.

However, when I pulled up to the clinic yesterday, a car was just pulling out

Right. In front. Of the clinic.

Just. As I. Drove by.


SCORE!!!!!!!

AND I didn't have to wait for the single soldier to buckle 3 children in their car seats, load the stroller in the back, pick up the cracker that fell on the floor, while shouting "I'll get you a snack in a minute!" (which is sometimes the case when cars are waiting for my parking spot. But only sometimes, of course. The rest of the time, I snap my fingers and kaa-zam, everyone is smiling cheerfully at me in the rear view mirror).

Anyway. I was jubilant. The perfect parking spot. No walk. No wait. It was just right there waiting for me. I shouted, "WOOHOO!!" to my kids as I pulled in. And continued to marvel out loud at the greatness of this parking spot, and my brilliance in being delayed at the stop light just enough time for this spot to come available.


My 2 year old, Joshua, piped up in the back seat, "Mommy, what are you saying?" In my personal-parking-spot euphoria, I understood his question to mean, what does "YayYayYay!" and "Woohooooooooo!" mean?

So I quickly explained that I was cheering because I was so excited about the great parking spot.

He frowned.

And said with urgency, "But, Mommy! You should say, '"Thank you, Lord!!"'

Caught red handed and guilty as charged.

Nothing like your 2 year old reminding you of God's perfect providence in landing you the perfect parking spot, right? 

Wasn't I just marveling at how I was delayed at the stop light just previous to turning into the parking lot? How the young soldier got into his car without delay? And was pulling out of the parking spot JUST as I drove up?

And did I really think that it was all MY doing?

Nuts.

Forgive me, Lord, for failing to thank you for your sweet providences.

And thank you, Lord, for Joshua! For his uncanny ability to catch me red handed. For the precious reminder of my need for sanctification. And for giving him a heart that is sensitive to You and Your ways.


So yes, I was caught red handed... and I'm thankful for it.

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Wordless Wednesday: Deep in thought

My 2 year old, Joshua, should have been in bed. But he came out of his room to ask for a snack, just as I was playing with the monochrome setting on my camera.

 He waited patiently while I snapped pictures.

 I'm sure he was contemplating earning a cheesecake, or at least a few cookies, for sitting through this photo session.

Unfortunately for him, I just sent him back to bed with a hug and a kiss. And some great pictures.

Happy Wordless Wednesday All