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.

Absence makes the heart

grow fonder.

I think I told myself that precious line every day while Nick and I long-distance-dated. And then again during every deployment, training cycle, and separation we've had since we got married.

It's something I'll always hold onto and believe with all my heart. When you truly love someone...with an undying, unwavering, unconditional, Christ-like love...absence makes the heart grow fonder. Not only do you learn to treasure every moment together, because of how many you spend apart, but I think you also develop a deepened level of thankfulness, appreciation, and yearning for each other after undergoing separation.

Isn't it true that when your spouse is away, you realize how much they do and did while they were home? Things that you may ordinarily take for granted? Like filling up the gas tank, or changing a hard to reach light bulb?

And even more so, doesn't it make you realize how precious it is to snuggle up to someone as you talk about your day? Or to be able to lock eyes with one another in pride as you hear your child recite his Bible verse without prompting? Or to have the joy of cooking a gourmet meal and seeing him gobble it up without complaint? Or having someone strong and brave in a house that creaks and groans in the night? Or even just the sound of a calm and steady voice as he reads the boys a goodnight story? No one reads a bedtime book quite like my Nick.

I love him more each day.

To top it off, last week, my dear husband gave me yet another reason to grow fond of him while we are apart. And they came in pink, red, and yellow:

The hardest part

After a whole day of managing the house and the children, I find that when 5pm rolls around I want to flip the "being responsible" switch and take a break. My energy, my skills, and, yes, I'll say it, my temper, have reached the limit and I'm ready for auto pilot. No thinking, no disciplining, no doing anything that involves effort.

And truth be told, so often my husband, in his graciousness, allows me this much needed reprieve. He comes home from work, plays with the kids, steps up to chasten and admonish them when needed. He often cleans the dinner dishes before wrestling that last bit of energy out of the boys so that bedtime can go smoothly.

This is yet another reason why I love my husband. And yet another reason why I'm missing him while he is away. Am I wrong to think that being a single parent might very well be the hardest part of Army life?

Of course, I miss my husband and best friend for so many other reasons (adult conversation, protection, physical touch, regular encouragement), but I right now I'm really missing him as "Daddy."

The last week, though it has flown by, has been such a challenge. I have found my strength and stamina dwindling when it comes to child rearing. Why is it so easy to let things slide when you're the only one? I tell myself, it's no big deal to let my son talk back just this once... but then is it really okay to let it go three times in a row? Or what about turning a blind eye to family devotions, telling myself that "I don't want my husband to miss out on several chapters of Proverbs" that we'd read in his absence...when really in truth, I don't feel like trying to keep the boys sitting still and listening for another 15 minutes?

Unfortunately, the list goes much longer than this, bed time, chores, spankings... why is it so easy to feel that we'll get back to "real life" when Daddy's home again? And during this in-between-time, this single parenting time, it's okay to be lazy and let things go?


Well, let me tell you. It's NOT.


I'm reaping the "rewards" of what I've sown. After a week of sending my children mixed signals by sometimes letting them to their own devices and at other times following them around with the rod of correction... I'm finding that neither them nor I are taking me very seriously.

Yes, I could use a break. I could use an easy button. And I could use an iced white mocha right about now. But taking a break is very foolish when it comes to parenting... especially when it involves being inconsistent in discipline!

While it is good to have times of quiet from the hustle and bustle of the the daily grind, as a Christian, I must never stop confronting sin in my life or allow myself to use "single parenting" as an excuse.

And now I pray,


Lord, forgive me for being inconsistent this week. Please keep me strong to complete the tasks you have laid before me. Help me to remember that I must be steadfast, regardless of my energy level. Thank you for causing me to reap what I've sown as a lesson and reminder that I cannot let sin take root in my life.

And thank you for my husband who makes working hard so much more bearable. Miss you, Sweetheart!

Alone time

Last night I went shopping.



The kind that doesn't involve a shopping cart and groceries. The kind where you browse and linger. The kind where you try on clothes and matching shoes. The kind where you aren't trying to keep 3 kids quiet with pretzels and lollipops.




That's right. The kind of shopping that only takes place when you're ALONE.



And what a pleasure it was.



Don't get me wrong: I love my kids so much that it brings tears to my eyes. I love my kids. But I'll tell you, last night, "real store" shopping brought tears to my eyes too. Yes. It was that good.



My house guests said I could go again tonight. Ahhh. Don't pinch me, lest I discover its only a dream!!

Goodbye for a while

My husband left this morning for several weeks of military training. And even though we're an "experienced" military family, I never quite get used to it. To being alone, that is.

Nothing is quite right when he's gone. Already the house has a certain emptiness to it; as though it possesses the knowledge that he won't be home tonight.

The kids laugh and play, not quite understanding the difference between goodbye for a bit and goodbye for a while. I'm not sure I quite understand the difference either. Is saying goodbye ever easy?

Sure, hello's and goodbye's are all part of life. Not just military life, but life in general. We all say them. And we get used to them within a routine. From the mundane, "Hello" at the grocery store check-out, to the whispered "Goodbye" as your spouse leaves for work.


But don't our hearts open and close with those words? Doesn't something move and stretch and pull within us, as we welcome people into our lives and then see them go? Don't we leave something behind every time we "meet and greet" and "hail and farewell?"


The goodbye this morning was a tearful one. I had worked hard to hold back and tie down my wayward emotions over the last few days. But as the moment approached, as always, the reality hit. This is goodbye for more than just a few hours, or just a few days...it's goodbye for a while.