The Power of Importance

                On my way to work this morning, my local radio station played a short clip of Beth Moore (whom I love!).  I’m always excited when I leave early enough to hear the morning segment, and I always find it useful in my life.  This morning, her point was that we sometimes hold back in our prayer lives because we are afraid the response (or lack of response) to our prayers will make us feel insignificant to God.  At first I thought, “What a strange idea!  How could a fear of feeling insignificant affect our prayers to God?”  It makes sense though the more I think of it and on many levels in my own life…  

A ministry that I am extremely passionate about right now in my life is a prom dress drive I am doing at work.  I work with mostly 11^th graders, but we are a small school, so I know many more kids than just those I teach.  Our youngest guidance counselor recently started a clothes closet at our school, and I immediately became involved in helping her with it.  I don’t know how many times several of us have brought, bought, or found clothes for a kid in need, and I can’t imagine how much of our own baby items we have given away.  I don’t say this to praise the fact we do it, because it isn’t anything special, but I say it to show what a heart we have for meeting the needs of these kids.  It took me a while personally to get over the fact that sometimes students would take advantage of our love or be unappreciative of items we drove over an hour to find and spend our own money on.  I did, however, because eventually I understood why I wanted to do things for these kids.  It is because I want to show them God’s love, and I want to see their faces in that moment when they realize that there is someone who thinks they are important.  These students we help feel, some of them for the first time ever, that someone who is not a parent and who doesn’t want anything from them believes them to be of enough value that they would help them.  (I don’t know about you guys, but I’m about to have a hallelujah moment myself.)  Isn’t it amazing how our heavenly Father does that for us?  I sit here amazed at the fact that I am just realizing my major motivation for all of my ministries.  I love to see others realize that they are important to God.  One of our clothes donors, who I truly think God sent, brought in a formal looking dress.  It was nothing special really, just a floor length pink dress with no embellishments at all.  One girl who went in for clothes asked the counselor if she could take the dress to wear to prom.  A light bulb went off for the counselor who came to me with an idea.  Would it be possible to find free dresses for girls who can’t afford to buy one for prom?  I had a new mission, or should I say ministry.  I am a girly girl.  I have already admitted that I do NOT leave my house without at least minimum make up, and yes, both of my girls have painted toe nails at this very moment, even the one who can’t walk yet.  I love femininity, and I love dresses!!!  Therefore, I was more than a little enthusiastic about my new mission.

                How then, do we begin to gather dresses?  Step one: my closet.  I went to two proms, was in four pageants, and have been a bridesmaid several times.  I don’t ever even want to fit into a size 2 formal dress again, so I brought them all.  The rack still looked pretty naked.  I sent out an employee email.  It helped, but still, we needed more.  I then did something I rarely do outside of my family.  I asked for help.  I’m such a prideful person that I hate to even sell something.  I honestly don’t even like to take up jewelry or make up orders because I feel like I’m begging.  Somehow though, when it came to helping these girls, it didn’t matter.  I begged more than once.  I even begged specifically when I realized we needed dresses that were a larger size than those we had.  I drive to wherever necessary to pick these dresses up, and I try my best to say thank you as many times as the conversation will allow.  Why would something as trivial as prom dresses for high school girls be so important to me?  Have you ever seen a bride-to-be try on a wedding dress for the first time?  Have you looked at her face when the realization of the specialness of such a dress hits her?  That’s why.  When these girls go into our little closet and find a dress they think is beautiful and put it on, they feel important and special.  If we look that way to our Heavenly Father, then I know how much His heart must burst with love for us.  As humans, it is an essential need for us to feel important.  We crave it, we hunt it (often in the wrong places), and we yearn for it.  That, my friend, is why we look so hard for a mate in life.  We want someone who makes us constantly feel important.  That is why we love being mothers so much; there is little person to whom we are of the upmost importance.  It sounds selfish, but it is completely true.  We were made that way, I believe, so that we would search for God.

                How does this tie into my chaos, you may ask?  Easy.  I am constantly aware of trying to make each of my children feel important.  I need them to know that they are each a vital part of our family unit.  I love them all equally, but they are special in such different ways.  My twins are just learning to be jealous, which I believe is our first way of showing we need to feel important.  Sometimes it’s comical when I come home from work, because they both want me to hold them first thing, and quite honestly, they do not want me holding the other baby at the same time.  Tank, who is a mama’s boy, gets especially jealous.  He will fling his little body back and cry as I hold them both, but if someone takes Tinker Belle and I can devote both arms to him, he will settle down.  I can see in my past when all I have wanted was a two arm hold from God.  I see when I needed that tight hug, that security that only both arms can give.  I needed to be held completely, without having to hold back.  I needed to feel special, important.  Tinker Belle is a little different.  She will let Tank have his moment, and then she will come to me.  She knows that this will actually give her more time to be held.  At the same time, she is happier just playing around on the floor, but the moment I leave the room, she is devastated.  She can play on her own, but she needs the security of knowing I’m nearby in case she needs me.  Then, there is my sweet, sweet Princess.  Dean and I feel guilty so often over how her life has changed.  I don’t feel guilty over her having to share us, but I do feel guilty over the fact that she doesn’t understand that we prioritize our time by need.  Sometimes, she wants her needs to be met first, whether or not they are as important as the needs of the twins.  Honestly, there are times when I allow her needs to be met first, even if it means a wet diaper is left on for 2 extra minutes, because I want her to understand that she is important. 

                I don’t know really what I was hoping to accomplish with this post.  Mostly I think I just wanted to invite you into my mind, or maybe my spirit.  It is amazing to me how God connects all these little parts of my life when teaching me a lesson.  I mean, honestly, how else could my drive to work, my charity work, and my relationship with my children all be connected?

                Maybe you’re feeling pretty important in life right now, or maybe you are feeling a little insignificant to God.  Either way, here is my prayer for us:  “Heavenly father, thank You for feeling that I am important.  Thank You for taking the time to create me very specifically.  Thank You for thinking that I’m so important that it was worth the time to count the hairs on my head.  I love You so much for being so huge that I can’t even fathom Your greatness, but for making me feel special, as unimportant as I am.  Help me to share Your love with others and make them feel important.  Help the other ladies around me to know that I think they are so wonderful and special.  Help us to know that our failures do not define us, but refine us.  Help us to know that the only significance we need in life is that which we feel from You.  We praise You, love You, and hope to bless Your name.”

A word to my mother

     I have no problem admitting that I have a pretty obsessive relationship with my mother.  In so many ways she taught me to be who I am today.  She taught tried to teach me how to be a lady, she taught me how to be a wife (by example), and she taught me how to be a mother.  When I was pregnant with Princess, my mother lived about 75 miles away.  Luckily, she and my dad moved back before I actually gave birth, so my entire motherhood experience has been with the help of my mother.  Thank God! (I mean that literally.  I truly thank God that she has been there.)  Mommy is constantly making comments about how I mention her in my blog (sometimes I don't actually say who I am referring to and she knows it is her) and makes comments like "I hope this doesn't end up in your blog."  So I feel I need to set the record straight.  If I have ever said anything bad about my mother or made a comment that seemed negative, it was strictly a problem of translation from my mind to the written language; my mother is a female hero in my life.  She is the example of perfection to me in so many ways, and at the risk of sounding weird, she is a soul mate to me. (Dean is to of course, but in a different way.)  We like to use the term "kindred spirit", borrowed from Anne of Green Gables.  Even if I were horribly ticked off at her at this very moment (which I'm not), I would not be able to say anything bad about her.  In her, I see all the best parts of her mother, Marylynn, who will always be present in my mind, though she passed several years ago.  For me, there is a generational connection between Grammy, Mommy, myself, and my girls.  There's so much of a likeness that runs through all of us.
  That being said, my mom is completely crazy in all the best ways.  I can see the progression of craziness building within me with my age, so I try to embrace it.  There are times when I feel like we are just like the women in the movie "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" because we are excitable, and of course loud because the excitedness, bossy, we squabble (usually lightheartedly), when we are mad (truly mad) we make up within five minutes, and we understand each other completely.  We don't hold back anything from one another, which is why we sometimes have the whole "end up in your blog" situation.  It's a perfect relationship.
     I trust her with my children as much as I trust myself and Dean with them.  God has blessed her with the gift of being mother to many people who have needed mothering, and she's Nana to almost every small child I know, and definitely all the small children in our church (about 40 total).  In that way, we are different.  Small children do NOT draw to me, and I cannot spread myself thin enough to nurture an entire church worth of people.  Not yet anyway, and it's not a gift I pray or even hope for in any way.  I favor my dad in the aspect of that gift (as in we don't have it).  It is a gift that I love about her.  I love that everyone loves her so much, and that she sincerely loves other people so much.  It adds to her mystery.
  Here's my prayer for my mother:  "Dear God, protect my mother.  Help her to be protected and blessed in her ministry.  Keep her healthy.  Help her in her aid to my dad and his ministry.  Make me like her in all the right ways.  Show her Your favor in her health, in her finances, in all ways.  Let her know how important she is and how much she is loved."

Who works the hardest?

     Okay, so this is one of those posts I will have to get approved by Dean (if I remember to do so before hitting post).  As I try to constantly point out, I love Dean so much it hurts.  I think he is the most wonderful man in the world (at a tie with my dad and brother).  He is everything I ever wanted:  A hard worker, a family man, a wonderful husband, a man of God, the list could go on.  We get along wonderfully and love each other deeply, but we are not perfect, and I don't ever want to set us up as being so.  I promised honesty, so here it goes.
      If having one child changes a marriage by complicating it, adding a set of twins to the mix put our world in a blender with no top on it and turned it on high.  Sometimes I feel like we spend our lives running around, just scraping up the mess.  I know I've mentioned several times that life too often feels like a game of survival, and I hope it doesn't make you feel discouraged, but it's a constant battle in my life.  Another inner struggle, that I hate to even admit, is the inner struggle of resentment towards my husband.  Don't think me a failure; it's a mutual thought we both have that neither of us wants to say.  Often, in the heat of an argument, there is an unspoken phrase screaming out in our every thought: "I do more than you do!"  This often also translates into, "I sleep less than you do and am therefore more tired than you!"  It took a long time, several months after the twins were born (though the thought started when Princess was born and took a break once she got older), for one of us to say the actual words.  Luckily, it wasn't said in anger during an argument.  Rather, in a moment of frustration, I simply said, "We are both thinking are have done more and have more of a right to be tired and frustrated right now".  Dean agreed, and finally, it was out in the open.  We have never kept secrets.  We promised early on not to do so, and not saying this thought, but knowing he knew that I felt that way seemed like I was not being up front with him.  I couldn't handle it anymore no matter how afraid I was at voicing the thought.  It was also scary that I knew he felt the same way but did not want to admit it out loud either. 
     Once it was all out in the open, we both felt better.  Parenting is hard, and being outnumbered by our children means a great deal of work.  We often have to divide and conquer in order just to get simple tasks done such as paying bills, helping a sick baby make it through the night, cooking dinner, or taking a shower without interruption (for crying out loud).  Is this thought Godly? No, of course not.  Is it loving and kind? No.  Does it recognize the work that the other spouse is putting forth? Not one bit.  Is it sometimes justified?  Sure, on both parts.  Is it a natural thought?  You be the judge. 
     We both agreed to try our best to not think the "I do more than you do" thought.  I'd like to say that this is something we have overcome, which is why I posted about it, but that isn't true.  We are both hardworking people, and in our own ways need constant acknowledgment of that fact.  When we are working for the same cause, however, this creates a problem.  It's hard to praise someone for working harder than you when you think you are working as hard as you possibly can.  It's hard to commend someone for giving up sleep when you're sure you gave up more.  Lastly, it's hard to make someone feel like a more volatile part of the cause when you're certain things could not go on without you.  Life with a spouse is not always simple, but it is always worth the work.  The same goes for parenting.  My life is so blessed, but that doesn't mean it's easy.  Walking through Wal mart with my double stroller holding two beautiful babies with my gorgeous four year old next to us gets admiring looks from people of all ages, but it is not all glamor.  I work hard.  All of us as mothers do.  At the same time, Dean works hard as well.  While he often does things differently than me, the man way, he really does work just as hard, just in a different way.  I know this is a truth, but sometimes I just want to be the one who has earned a break, the one who is given all the credit for being a superhero, but I also know that Dean sometimes just wants the same. 
     We both actively try to give one another a break now.  Having the twins made our lives more complex, but it taught us how to truly work as a team, something I don't believe we ever knew before.  This is my prayer for us, and for those of you who are in a situation that helps you relate to my situation: "God, help us to love the chaos and business of our lives.  Help me to love my husband as I should and give him the credit he deserves.  Help me to love my work as a mother.  Help me to work hard without seeking praise for doing so.  I praise you for my beautiful chaos.  I thank You for my wonderful three babies who are lively, expressive, and have strong lungs.  I love you for all You are that I am not.  Help my fellow mothers who are working hard as well.  Help their partner, if they have one, and if they don't, pour out a double blessing on their lives.  I praise You for touching the lives of the ladies I love and with whom I share this bond of motherhood."

The sick logistics

     When contemplating a second child, I never really thought about what we would do when we had one of those sleep with a baby on your chest in a recliner for three nights illnesses.  When I found out that our second child had an inner-womb roommate, I couldn't let myself even consider the idea of anyone ever having time to get that sick.  It happens, however, more frequently than I ever even thought possible.  I usually get calls from my sitters at work between 1:30 and 2:10, which is 6th period (or block, if that's what your school system calls it) due to the fact that if one of my children is sick, they usually have their worst meltdown around the afternoon nap time.  One of my students made a very innocent comment last time I received such a call that my children "sure do get sick a lot".  I wasn't bothered since I am pretty hard to offend, especially since I was thinking the same thing.  Usually, it's nothing big, but there are those times when someone is especially ill.  That my friends is when I truly feel connected to my husband.  I often look back on those times and realize that we work so great as a team, even when sleep and communication are lacking.  This past week is one of those times.

Tank developed croup on Sunday evening.  He feel asleep early, and he woke up two hours later very ill.  We are no strangers to croup.  Princess suffered from croup four times a year for three years of her little life, and she is still prone to it even now.  When she had bouts of croup, Dean and I worked as a team and traded her back and forth using every doctor and grandma recommended treatment there was.  With Tank, however, we didn't have the luxury of switching.  We did figure it out, though.  It went something like this....

Night one--I took Tank into my room in his bouncy seat (hoping that being in a propped up position would help).  Dean took Princess into her room and laid down with her with the intention of staying most of the night so that I could put the bouncy seat on the bed.  (At least that way, if I got too tired, he would have had some sleep.)  Tank went to sleep two hours later than usual, and slept for an hour and 15 minutes.  He then woke up and screamed so loud that he woke Tinker Belle up (whose mini crib is still in our room).  Once she went back to sleep, I took Tank into the living room at the other end of the house and had Dean go into our room to tend to Tinker Belle (who still wakes up for two bottles no matter how hard I try to train her to sleep through).  At some point, he ended up taking Princess in our room as well since she woke up crying from a bad dream.  Tinker Belle drank every bottle I had prepared for that night.  Tank rolled around on me and cried for the next several hours.  Once I got to the point of exhaustion that makes you cry for no reason, I switched places with Dean.  He kept the three kids until I woke up and we switched off again for him to go take care of the farm business for the day.  Thankfully, we were off for President's Day, so the massive lack of sleep wasn't too bad.  I ended up taking him to our general dr. that day and getting some antibiotics for him (for bronchitis). 

     The next few days went about the same with complicated nighttime switch offs.  We also sort of took turns missing work.  Tinker ended up getting sick as well, so I went to the doctor with Tank again on Wed. receiving medicine for the croup, and took Tinker on Thursday at the first sign of illness.  To say the least, life has been crazy for a while, but you know what?  We survived, and while we had tons and tons of help, I honestly feel like we took care of the three of them pretty well together.  

      Thank you God for letting us survive the times that seem so hard when we go through them but so small in hind sight.  Thank you for blessing me with children and trusting me with their care.  I praise you for healthy babies and a wonderful husband!!

P.S.  Dean and I are both feeling sick now.....

The art of romance

I hope the title of the post didn't mislead you into thinking that I have the secret to the art of romance.  Rather, I just have some thoughts about how romance within a relationship changes after each child is born into a family.  I'm so glad that Dean and I were together for several years before having our children.  Don't get me wrong, sometimes I think it would have been easier to have had children younger, when I had more energy, but overall I think those formative years helped us establish a bond that can't be broken.  We had time to go out on dates and establish our young selves for three years before getting married, then we had another three to establish ourselves as a married couple coexisting before bringing Princess into the mix.  Lastly, we had three years to establish ourselves as a family unit before adding in the twins.  Now, we didn't work it out that way, God did.  We didn't always want to wait so long, and sometimes, things happened more quickly than expected.  That timing, however, did help us establish our version of romance along the way.

If there is one thing we are not, it's romantic.  We try; it's just not natural.  I think it is because we are just too practical.  We are more into real love.  The kind of love that spills an entire glass of tea on her lap on the first date, or the kind of love that makes a man an hour late on Valentine's Day when he decides at the last minute to go pick up flowers and doesn't realize what a madhouse the store will be.  We just can't make that "perfect date' happen.  We've given up a long time ago.  Our first Valentine's Day together, we decided not to buy gifts, but to make them.  I made this cheesy picture thing in computer class at school (I was still in high school when we met), and Dean put those art classes to use by drawing a picture of me.  Well, he started it anyway, and to this day, it is unfinished.  He says he just can't do me justice, which means he doesn't like it and refuses to start over or settle for what it is.  I tried to make spaghetti and meatballs for our dinner and burnt the meatballs.  Oh well, it is what it is.

To be honest, there are times that it bothers each of us that we aren't more romantic, but overall I love the fact that we are not hung up on the idea of being romantic.  We began our relationship, and I mean literally on the first date, deciding that we would be real.  We agreed that in most relationships, it takes about 6 months for the "real" you to show up, and that before that, you're putting your best face forward so to speak.  We didn't want that.  We were both a little jaded about love, and decided that if we couldn't be honest and still like each other, we weren't going to last eventually anyway.  We didn't want to waste our time in such a case.  Luckily, God helped us through and we knew we were with the best person for us.  The rest is history I suppose.  I'm not saying we have a perfect relationship, and I wouldn't want that anyway.  If you try to hang on to those moments of perfection, the pressure is too much and you can't enjoy it.

Fast forward ten years.  February 14, 2012 makes the 11th Valentine's Day we are together.  We decided to celebrate last night.  It wasn't romantic.  I cooked T-bone steaks and cheese potatoes and we ate at the table with full lighting so that we could feed the kids at the same time.  We didn't do gifts, at least I hope not, since I haven't bought a single thing for Dean.  Actually, I know we didn't, because he's not really good at surprising me and we just paid for a necessary bathroom renovation that makes that kind of unnecessary spending ridiculous right now.  We celebrated early, because all three kids have a doctor's appointment today, and who knows what they'll be like later.  We'll probably stop and get Princess a little box of chocolates, and remind her that loving and being loved by God is the most important thing in life.  The twins will probably cry all evening because of getting their second flu shots, and you know what?  It's okay.  It's okay that our day isn't super romantic, and it's okay that we didn't spend any money on each other, and it's okay today wasn't a big event.  We'll be together.  For better, for worse, and no matter what.  That, my friend, is what love is to me.  If you're the kind of person who needs butterflies and shaky knees, I hope you get it.  But do yourself a favor and look for the real acts of love.  A man who will clean up the kitchen so you don't have to, or a man who will take half of a day off work so that he can spend Valentine's Day with you in the doctor's office.

Here's my love prayer for all of us ladies including the married, the single, the mommies, and thechildless.  "Dear God.  Help us to remember what true love is.  Help us to remember that Your love is all we need.  Help us to love those around us as we should.  Help us to feel loved by You at all times.  We love You, we love You, we love You."

capere momentum

    My friend SFields read an article to me the other day written by a mother of young children about the old saying "Carpe Diem", seize the day.  The lady talks of how older women come up to her and tell her about how they enjoyed every moment of raising their children and how it goes by too fast.  SFields, Joy Mac, and I all talked about how we love the idea of seizing the day, every moment of our lives, but admitted that we could relate to the article.  In the end, the lady says that she instead has learned to appreciate those moments of God filled time in her life, such as when she looks at her child and actually sees her for the first time all day.  I have been thinking about this a great deal ever since, and I have decided to do something about my mindset. 
     My blog has the word "chaos" in it for a reason:  I feel that my life is constantly chaotic.  It's not that I dislike my life or that I just relish in the chaos that surrounds me.  Instead, I have just accepted that my life, as well as anyone's I assume, has a pretty heavy load of chaos.  The chaos only bothers me in the moment.  I can move beyond it when the chaos subsides.  For instance, sometimes I want to pull my hair out when all three of my kids are screaming for my attention, none of them wants me to hold another person besides them, I need to begin dinner (because they will need to eat eventually and will probably decide to do so suddenly), I am in urgent need of emptying my bladder, and the phone is ringing.  However, when I buckle my mind down, put my children somewhere where they are safe, pee (sometimes with an audience), begin dinner, and grab the phone to call back whomever it was I missed, I immediately feel better.  The chaos has passed.  Now, while these instances are often funny to account later, (I'm not putting the truly funny stuff in here because even I have a little shame) they are truly hard at the moment and I find myself at the end of the day saying, "At what point did I enjoy my children?"  My heart is sometimes broken.  I get so caught up the survival of the day that very few enjoyable moments can be remembered.  Those moments are there of course, and if I truly try, I can think of them, but still.  What is more upsetting to me is the idea that I am portraying life as something you simply survive to my children, particularly Princess who is old enough to be effected by my attitude.  I cry out to God to forgive me.  I do not want her or the twins to look back at their childhood and see only that we all survived it.  I love my family so much that it hurts.  I would die for them, I cherish them, I even like them!  Why then, does it sometimes feel like an entire day, week, or month, was just part of some survival training?  
     I've decided that what I must do is stop living like some crazy woman on a reality show about making it through life.  Granted, I can't will my children to be less demanding, needy, or even care for themselves in a way that is not possible for them at this age.  There will still be chaos.  What I hope to also provide though, is JOY.  Why can't the two reside together?  Who says that chaos has to keep us in a constant ulcered state?  Yes, our life together is crazy.  Shoot, mommy is a little crazy too, but who says we can't love life even when it is crazy?  I've already begun the process of reconditioning my beliefs that everytime my family steps out of the door we have to be magazine picture perfect in both looks and attitude, so I'm one step in the right direction.  Now, I have to begin to reflect the attitude of joy on to my children.  I have to show them with actions as well as words that life is an awesome gift from God, and we should be thankful for that gift. 
    So ladies, let's do this together.  Let's capere momentum (seize the moment)!  Let's look around when things are good and say, "Thank you God for happy children!"  or "Thank you God for healthy children!"  Let's look around when things are rough and say, "Thank you God for three kids with extraordinarily strong lungs!"  (Two of mine are testing my commitment as we speak!)  Or, "Thank you God for so many clothes to wash, because that means we are all well dressed!"  It's not going to be easy, but peace is in our hearts, not our surroundings.  Remember the scripture from a former post? I will "seek peace and pursue it." (Psalms 34:14)  I will seek it in my heart, not my car, living room, or even at the dinner table; it's surely NOT going to be there.   We can't relish in every moment of motherhood, or even life for that matter. However, we can appreciate the special moments, like when Tinker Belle looks at me so sweetly as she drifts off to sleep, or when Tank smiles his famous smile at me, or when Princess puckers her little lips up for a kiss and tells me I'm so cute.  I think I can seize those moments and hold them in my heart. 
     In my mind, it's kind of like when you take your kids to the photographer.  You leave thinking that in the mist of all of the crying, fussing, and chaos, there is no way the poor photographer got a decent picture.  However, when you get the proofs back, they are gorgeous.  Life is that way.  Even when it seems that there is no way your day had a redeemable moment, there are so many you can call to mind that it is truly awesome.  We are so blessed by a Father who cherishes his special moments with us!
     Here's my prayer for all of us wallowing in chaos but trying to appreciate life:  "Dear Father, thank you so much for giving us such full lives.  We know there are those out there who are lonely and would love to have a house full of children to love.  We know that while it's not always easy to be a mom, it is so blessed.  We know that as Your children, you want us to be happy and have joy.  We also know that life is hard, but You are great.  Help us to enjoy life.  Help us to hold tight to the sweet memories of our precious children and husbands.  Lord, while sometimes all we can hope to do is survive a moment in life, we sincerely want to enjoy life, not just survive. We praise You. Amen."

Tank’s Talk

            I love my children all equally.  However, when I think of them individually, I can appreciate the things about each child that makes him/her different.  Tank, my only boy, is definitely a different experience.  My husband has been longing for a boy since we decided to have children, and I’m always amazed at the fact that there is no partiality towards him from my husband.  He actually tends to coddle the girls more.  Princess is his playmate, and Tinker Belle is so tiny that she receives a lot of attention from everyone.  To me though, there is something so special about Tank that seems to be overlooked by the average person.  One thing others do notice though is that he’s strong.  As humans, we are naturally drawn to those who need our protection most.  Tank, who was 19 pds at only 6 months, is obviously strong and has a big presence.  He didn’t have the physical issues that Tinker Belle did/does, and honestly, at only 7 months, he looks like he could stand up and run across the floor.  As his mother though, it’s so apparent to me that the advantage he has with size and strength is matched with a disadvantage in emotional immaturity.  In short, he needs my love, hugs, and snuggles more than the girls.  I actually haven’t been able to type his post because he has been sick, and therefore demanding; in fact, he’s working his way towards me now on the carpet.  

I sometimes get frustrated that he demands so much attention when there are things that I really need to do.   I mean, it’s not easy to cook spaghetti with a 20 pound baby on your hip, and typing an entire blog post with one hand is not all that efficient.  However, there’s a reason that deep down I don’t mind. If I’m being honest, as I’ve promised to do, I know he’s only mine for a little while.  Pretty soon, he will be idolizing my husband and chasing behind him wanting to do only “what daddy does”.  I say this with no remorse or resentment.  I actually want that.  I think Tank has a wonderful father, and it will mean so much to Dean to have a little protégé.  I am simply acknowledging the truth, and maybe trying to prepare myself for playing second fiddle so to speak.  Dean has tried his best to train Princess to be a little farm girl, but her interest wanes.  Sometimes she loves it, sometimes she doesn’t.  She loves her daddy in a very special way, but there’s a connection, or understanding, or something that she and I share that can’t be duplicated.  As much as we may fuss and disagree, she’s mine forever.  I’ll never lose her or have to share her.  Tank, however, looks at his daddy in a way that lets me know he feels just that way about Dean.  He will want to be just like him, which, as far as I’m concerned, is that way it should be.  I think a son’s immediately love for his father and his desire to please him is a beautiful metaphor for how we should be towards our heavenly Father.  Tank is fortunate enough to have a daddy who loves God and will lead him in the path of righteousness.

Tank has the sweetest little personality.  He is always smiling; sometimes he is smiling even when he is crying.  It’s adorable.  It’s as if he wants to be happy, even though he is devastated.  I hope he never loses his sincerity of emotions.  Whatever he feels, you know about.  He is tough as nails.  He can roll over and hit his head on the floor and not even flinch.  With Princess around, this is a good trait.  While she tends to be as gentle as she knows how, the fact that Tank isn’t much smaller than her makes her less worried about being careful around him.  In addition, he has this wonderful ability to look at you when you pick him up and express to you that “YOU”RE MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD!! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!”  Then, when you pass him to someone else, he looks at that person as if to say “YOU’RE MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!”  Even though you know he portrays that same feeling to everyone, you don’t mind because you know he means it.  Watch out ladies, he’s going to break some hearts!

Speaking of which, I also realize that when he gets married in the future, I will feel a greater since of loss than when my girls do so.  I used to think it was ridiculous when people would quote that old saying, “A daughter is a daughter her whole life, but a son’s a son until he takes a wife.”  I understand it a little better now.  In truth, my girls will always be my girls, even when they are married with children of their own.  Trust me, if ANYONE else made some of the suggestions to me that my own mother makes, I would be arrested for assault, but my mom can say it without even offending me (usually).  Also, she’s someone who I still depend on hopelessly.  My brother, however, does not.  He has, however, maintained that relationship with my dad.  He had to let some of the dependence he had on my mother go when he married.  It’s natural and necessary for his marriage.   I had to do the same with my dad.  He could no longer be the solver of my problems or fixer of my car.  I had to let Dean take care of me.  In turn, Dean had to “leave his father and mother, and… cling to his wife” (Mark 10:7).  I don’t look forward to this occurrence, but I don’t dread it like I expected either.  Instead, I’ve chosen to relish in the love he has for me now and enjoy that out of all the females in his life, he loves me most.  (He is currently proving this fact by standing in his exersaucer screaming for me at this very moment.)  Granted, he’s not even one, so my dread may grow with his age.  I often wonder if moms with only boys or dads with only girls feel this way, or if it is heightened by the luxury of comparison.  It does help me understand my husband’s massive overprotection of his girls though.  

Tank will probably always be my happy little good time guy.  I’m hoping his sweet disposition has as much of an effect on the rest of the world as it has had on our family and friends.  You just can’t look into his chubby little face without smiling back at him.  It’s a true gift to bring joy to others so naturally.  This is my prayer for Tank when I put him in the nursery at night:

“God, please bless my baby.  Keep him safe and healthy.  Make him strong in his faith in You.  Help him grow up to be a strong man of God, no one knows better than you how much this world needs them.  Help him to know that his relationship with You is the most important thing in his life.  Help me to be the mother You would have me be to him.  Help me to guide and train him in Your ways.”