Mirror, Mirror

     I'm sure there is a moment in every mother's life when she looks at her child, or children, and feels as if she is looking directly into a mirror.  This has been happening to me a lot lately.  I can think of several different occasions within the past two weeks that I looked at each child individually and saw myself.  The problem with it is that I didn't see the good version of myself that I have pictured in my head.  I saw the uncontrolled, pushy, demanding, temperamental parts.  Geez.
    We'll start with Bubby, since he's the least like me.  He has this tendency to just plow over people to get what he wants.  He will literally run over his twin to get to me.  If I'm standing at the sink washing dishes and he wants me to pick him up, he forces his little body between my legs and the cabinets and pushes with all his weight against it to get me away from the sink.  I don't know where he learned to be so adamant about getting his way.  Oh wait...
     Then there is Tinker Belle, who is mostly expressionless.  She has recently learned a new look.  It's the "I'm gonna kill you" (but not literally) look.  If you say something she doesn't like or look at her a certain way, she lowers her little eyebrows at you.  I can't imagine where she saw such a mean look.  Well, maybe...
   Lastly, there is Princess, my mini-me in life.  She was nagging (ahem) me about wanting something for two straight hours before I lost my cool and ranted about how she had to stop nagging me, during which my voice cracked and I almost cried, which made her begin to cry because she can't handle it when I cry, and she yelled back at me in the same tone, with the same desperate expression that she just couldn't help it.  It was some twilight zone type stuff...THEN she developed an unexplainable fear of our bathrooms.  She doesn't want to be in there by herself, and it's not exactly easy to drop everything and take her all the time.  This fear started randomly because of a decorative crab made of brass that was my grandmothers.  I can't imagine why anyone would have such a bizarre fear..(*nervous chuckle*)  Wonder where that came from?  Perhaps it could be...

     I know that I have some good traits as a person.  I truly care about people, I'm tender-hearted, and I am loving.  Why is it then that I feel like the only traits I have given my children are bad ones?  My parents told me once before the twins were born that Princess was strong willed and that while she needs to learn control, that is a trait that will help make her successful in life.  I'm not sure it's very endearing in preschool, but I know they are right.  I also know that the trait came from me.  Dean is definitely strong-willed, but she got the agressiveness from her mother.  I sit here asking myself, "Why don't they mimic the good things?" "Do I not do anything that is positive in front of them?" "Do I subconsciously only see the bad traits I pass along to them?"  "Should I start saving up for bail in the future?" (just kidding)

This is one of those times that I'm just going to have to try to improve the personality traits I project and pray really hard.  Here's the best I can do in my current state:

"Dear God, you know I'm crazy.  You also know that I don't want to make my children that way by showing them only uncontrolled behavior traits.  Help me, God, to realize that I have three little people depending on me to stay close to You so they can learn how to act.  Make me better, Lord, as a person, mother, wife, teacher, and woman.  I will praise You forever. Amen."

Sparrows (and other little things)

^"29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.³⁰ And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. ³¹ So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Matthew 10: 20-32

 "Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" (Matthew 6:26)

     I've always loved these verses of scripture that remind us of how God feels about us as well as the song they are said to inspire.  That song, "His Eye is on the Sparrow" written by Cevilla Martin, has always spoken to me in an intense way, especially the key line that says, "His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me."  I am in awe that I serve a Creator who takes care of even the smallest of His creations.  What is even more humbling to me is that He doesn't just watch over me, insignificant speck that I am, He also cares for the "insignificant" parts of my life.  Why is it He does so?  He has an entire universe under His watch and care, so surely I can tend to the little things in life, right?  Even if I mess up the little things, they aren't going to destroy my being, so why does He feel the need to tend to my tiniest of woes?  Let's think about it...
     I found myself with only my youngest of children at home the other evening, which rarely happens.  Princess was with Papaw, Tinker had charmed Dean into taking her with him on the tractor, and Bubby was left with me.  He was grumpy from allergies and not at all happy about being left behind.  At 14 months old, he didn't understand why a little case of allergies made a ride through a hay field with Dad a bad idea.  In an attempt to cheer him up, I did what I knew he would love best...I took him outside.  Those who know me, know that this is a big deal.  I am not crazy about being outside just for the sake of being outdoors.  I have no problem with the outdoors, I just get bored hanging out in the yard.  I really wanted to be inside cleaning up so that I could get in bed as early as possible, but I knew it would help Bubby's mood, so out we went.  I've already confessed that I'm bad at imaginative play, but in addition, I'm also bad at coming up with a way to play outside (I mean that is why we bought a swing set, right?).  At a loss for what to do, I walked him around the yard, looked at the butterflies on the butterfly bush, knocked off the tiny flowers on the white crepe bush, piled the few dead leaves up in a tiny bunched for him to stomp through, and had a little tickle fight on the ground.  The tickle fight was his favorite part.  He'd throw his little head back and let out a laugh that surely started in his toes.  He'd start laughing before my hands could even touch him.  He looked at me with those blue eyes that you could swim laps in, and I know for sure that I saw true joy deep within them.  Then it hit me.
     It was the small gestures of my attention that made him so joyful.  The time and effort I put into helping him forget how bad he felt made him feel loved.  At one point, he wrapped his chubby little arms around my neck and planted a slobbery kiss right on my face.  Would he have been okay if I had stayed in and let him follow me from room to room while straightening up?  Sure, but he would have been miserable and the mood would probably have worn off onto me.  Why then, would I put off things that had to be done in order to just cheer him up and tend to the little problems in his life?  Because I love him, of course.  A sense of renewal ran through me as I realized that God wants to do just that for us.  He wants to take us out of our sour mood and show us the beauty and joys of life.  He wants to give us moments of love and affection.  He wants us to know that even the little moments matter, and we're not alone.  What a wonderful Savior we have.  
  If ever you feel alone, ladies, just remember, you serve a God of the details.  For surely, if His eye is on the sparrow, He's watching you and me too.

"God, I'm so in awe of Your love, that I am truly speechless in Your presence.  Thank You for caring about the little things.  I will love, praise, and worship You forever."

The problem with GUILT and SPANX

The problem with guilt and spanx is that they'll both make you find yourself in a moment of panic when you realize you can't breathe.

*First and foremost, you need to know what spanx are.  Some women feel them to be a wonderful tool of compacting your body so that nothing jiggles.  They are sort of like control top panty hose on steriods.  You can buy them in various lengths and they extend up to your ribcage.  It's sort of like being a tightly packed sausage link.  While nothing jiggles and you do feel thinner, you should never try to take a "short" potty break, because these bad boys are not easy to get on and off.  Do yourself a favor and give up liquids for the day.  If you feel like you're going to pass out, it's normal. * 

  
     As you all know very well, I'm never short on things to feel guilty over.  As an educator, I'm given a nice amount of time off throughout the year to be with my kids.  The drawback to that fact is that I feel like we are settled into a routine just long enough to get comfortable, then it changes for a week, two weeks, or the summer.  Then, we adjust to a new little schedule and things change again.  It's like starting a new job every year, and having just enough breaks to make you want more.  PLEASE don't think I'm complaining.  I honestly don't think I could do anything that required more time from my kids, so I'm extremely thankful for my job, but there's always a little guilt involved when my little chickies have to readjust and I'm forced to leave them crying after me.  This is has been the worst year so far.
     Princess was elated to begin preschool.  (She attends a half day session at a Christian preschool nearby.)  The first two days were wonderful.  Despite the fact that she has never had to get up at a certain time in the morning, she hopped up, got dressed, and was ready to go.  After those two days, however, she informed me that she would not be returning to preschool, and as a matter of fact, she didn't think her dad should go back either.  If he were to decide to stay home, she reasoned, she could simply give him the money from her piggy bank so we could pay bills.  As precious as the offer was, I had to break it to her that preschool wasn't something she could quit.  Thus began the mommy guilt.
     Due to the location of the preschool in repect to our work, I am the one who takes Princess to school.  I have to drop her off as early as they are accepted in order to make it to work on time.  However, Princess decided (AFTER entering the school on the third day) that she didn't want me to leave so quickly and began crying rather obnoxiously.  It was every mothers nightmare.  My child seemed broken hearted and I had no choice but to 1. leave her crying and feel heartless OR 2. give in and forever cement in her mind that throwing a tantrum will get her way.  There's no way to win.  Maybe, MAYBE, if I hadn't left two crying 13 month olds at home, my heart wouldn't have hurt so badly as I peeled her off of my leg, handed her to the teacher, and turned around and left.  I doubt it, but maybe.
     I headed to work that day in my "teacher clothes", i.e. dress clothes.  I'm not the size I was right after having the twins, but I'm not exactly back in my old clothes either, so I have to decide each morning if my clothes are going to be a bit too loose for comfort or a bit too tight for comfort. (I know buying new ones would make sense, but my pride and my wallet don't agree.)  Anyway, I had found a solution to the problem of my skirt not wanting to zip:  I found a pair of spanx that had been given to me by my mother or a friend close enough to give you something of the sort and put them on.  I know I didn't buy them because I would never willingly buy a torture device.  I'll be honest though, I kind of liked that they made my clothes fit better, even if the phrase "stuffed sausage" ran through my mind several times as I got ready.  It sure did make that zipper feel better.
     I was running late for work, so I rushed in the building and got a little winded in the process.  I was feeling anxious because teaching isn't one of those jobs you can actually be late for and I hate cutting it close.  I was feeling nervous, frustrated, guilty, sad, and a little weary.  I knew I'd make it throught the day though, God had my back, and even though I hadn't said much to Him, I felt pretty secure for the day ahead because I stopped by a friend's room and asked her to pray for me.  (I figure if I'm not up to it myself, I should at least have someone else intercede, right?)  The day continued, and I don't remember much about it.
     At the end of the day, I went to leave and realized that I had lost my keys.  I went to the first floor, got the secretary's keys, walked back up the three flights of stairs, and looked for my keys (which were in the bag I had carried down and back up with me).  When I finally got into my car, I was once again winded.  When I couldn't catch my breath, I realized I was having some sort of attack.  I freaked out a little, prayed, called Dean, and drove all at the same time.  When I came out of it, I realized that something had to change...
     I'm going to be honest, I still don't know if it was the guilt or the spanx that led me to the panic attack I had in the car.  Just to be sure it doesn't happen again, I swore both of them off.  I realized a rather humorous comparison between spanx and guilt:  they will both squeeze the life out of you if you let them.  I had carried around my guilt for so many days that I had just wrapped myself in it to make it easier to carry.  I wrapped it tighter and tighter throughout the day without even realizing it, and it began to strangle me, literally.  While the fact that my stomach was squished all day might not have helped, I know my spirit was the real source of the attack, but I had hardened my heart in order to make it through the day.  "I can't deal with this right now, God".  I tend to say that so often lately.  I figured if I could just push it down, and push it down, I would be able to quench it out completely.  I was wrong.  God wouldn't let me forced it away, not because He wanted me to feel guilty, but because He wanted me to give it to Him.  I did. 
     As I was driving down the road, with Dean on the phone telling me to pull the stinking car over before I wrecked, I gave it to God.  And you know what?  I realized I didn't want it anyway.  Clinging to that guilt didn't make me stronger, it didn't make me a better mother, and it sure didn't make me a better driver.  Why God, do I cling to the things that hurt me?  I'll never know.  Here's my prayer for those of us who tend to wear our guilt like a tight pair of spanx:

God, You know my heart.  You know how much I love my family, and You know how much I love You.  Forgive me for taking on guilt that keeps me from being as close to You as I can.  Help me to fight off Satan's attacks when he brings me guilt to wear.  Make me the best I can be.  Bring comfort to the ladies around me.  Help us realize we are not alone and that this world is not our home.  We love, praise, and adore You, God.

HeliMOMter

     I don't know if any of you have ever had a pediatrician hint around about a part of your personality, but I have had two separate doctors make "passing comments" about me.  Dr. Baby Genius said something along the lines of, "You can't control every movement when you have three kids, huh?"  Another Dr., whom I deeply respect in that same practice, said, "I love studying personality traits in parents of twins.  You can't micromanage that many children at once; it's impossible." 
     Now, call me paranoid, but I seriously doubt that our general conversation just so happened to lead us in that direction during two separate doctor visits.  Granted, the craziness that ensues when I roll into the tiny room to wait on the doctor usually has me apologizing to nurses and doctors, and maybe, MAYBE, they felt the need to excuse my lack of control at the moment.  I don't know.  I do know though, that Princess suffered from my constant desire to control her every movement until I was so pregnant with the twins that I could no longer get close enough to her to hover for fear of knocking her down with my belly.  In short, becoming a mommy to the twins cured me of being a helicopter mom...sort of.
     It was easy to be a helimomter with just Princess.  She always wanted to play right at my feet, which made it easy for me to instruct her constantly on her every move.  She ate when I ate, so I just fed her.  She always wanted me there to help her with each task, so I simply did everything for her.  I know, I know; it's amazing she's normal (as normal as four year olds get anyway).  I'm sure there were moments in her little two/three year old mind when she wondered why mommy never actually let her walk into the store but carried her instead.  You may be wondering the same thing.  Honestly, it never occurred to me.  Why let her walk and risk her running away from me and getting run over when I could just carry her in instead?  I know it sounds crazy ( I would insert a "but...." here, but I have no defense and I truthfully still think it's a decent argument.)  I eventually had to stop carrying her because I was afraid I would fall and hurt both of us and carrying her weight on top of my own got burdensome.  It was then that I taught myself that we could in fact just walk hand in hand into a store without having to be unrealistically afraid of a runaway car injuring only her...Fastforward to the present.
     While I feel that I have gotten much better about being a helimomter.  I know that it's my natural tendency.  I truly just want to prevent my children from getting hurt, and maybe there is something deep within me that wants to keep them from making mistakes that may cause them pain, frustration, or even embarrassment.  However, I'm so glad that God gave me just what I needed to keep that tendency in check, chaos.  It's exhausting to micromanage one child, and it really is impossible to do so with three (especially once they are all mobile).  It's okay to teach your children to do, or not do, certain things, but we have to understand as mothers that so many lessons learned in life are done so by making mistakes.  The little things we learn "the hard way" help make us the kind of people who think about an action before taking it when we are older.  While I would love to have the energy to use every moment of my day making sure Princess, Tinker, and Tank all do everything perfectly and safely, I don't think it would be the best way of life for them.  They need me, but they need me sane, and I have to let go sometimes of things that aren't really all that important. 
     How can one possibly do so?  Well, first, you decide what you want to control most that is in essence unimportant.  Second, you let it go.  Princess's wardrobe is one area that was strangely difficult for me to let go of, not that I can't literally control what she wears, but because I knew that some days she needed that freedom from my constant control.  She loves fashion in the way many four year old girls love fashion.  She likes dresses, particularly pink ones, her American flag swimsuit, her polka dot rainboots, and she loves her white cowgirl boots, which in her mind match everything.  I don't always let her pick her outfit, but 95% of the time, I at least work out a compromise.  This is my way of not helimomtering.  It sounds silly, I know, but it really is hard for me.  It's just as hard as knowing that I can't possibly always keep Tinker from finding something that I'm sure is covered in germs and putting it in her mouth, or keeping Tank from tripping over something when he gets exciting and starts running towards me without any regard to what is in his path.  I'm not all the way there, but I'm trying.  I wanted to post about this because I think so many times our stress as moms comes from trying to control what isn't even important to control.  By all means we should make our children behave, learn respect, do things that are good and holy, but I had to learn that making Princess cry over what she will wear to Walmart, isn't worth the cost. 
    I'm on a journey, ladies; come with me.  Let's be good mothers, not helimomters.  Let's stop being a broken record in the ears of our children of "Do this", "Don't do that", and start being the voice of love and support.  Here's my prayer for us:
"Dear father, thank You for giving me such a deep love for my children.  I know that You have given me the ability to love them and a sincere desire to care for them in the best way I can.  Help me, Lord, to focus always on what is important.  Help me to let go of the trivial things that I don't need to waste time obsessing over.  Help me, Lord to be a great mom, a Godly mom.  Help me not lose my mind in the midst of this beautiful chaos. I praise You always."

Groundhog Day and Time's Winged Chariot

     As a working mom, I try very hard to appreciate every moment with my kids.  I'm extremely blessed to work in a job that contracts me for 10 months but spreads out my pay over 12 months.  Therefore, I have two months home with my kids in the summer.  You would think it would be easy to relish every moment of those two months, right?
     Here's my problem.  I'm an antsy person.  I don't like being at home all day every day.  I like my home, and I like spending time there, but I like being free to go places too.  When I had Princess, I didn't change my lifestyle too much in that area.  I loaded her up and took her wherever I wanted to go.  The twins, however, changed that.  Last summer (actually up to October) and this summer I have had to learn how to be happy just being at home with my three kiddos.  (Luckily, my husband stops in during breaks in his day to help break up the monotony for me.)  It's been a blessing, though.  It has made me a better wife, mother, and person in general.
     For the first time ever, I spent several weeks of this summer just getting my house back in order.  I have busied myself with homey type things and been pretty content.  It's an amazing thing really, because before now, I could only handle being at home (meaning not leaving the house at all) for a couple of days in a row before going stir crazy.  Dean never minded it, but I can tell he loves the new me even more than he thought possible.  He loves that I'm around for when he has a moment to stop by (he farms our land, so he's always pretty close by), he loves that the things of our family bring me sincere joy, he loves that the kids are around to go out with him when he is doing something that allows for a tag a long.  It's great, but there are those days...
     Some days I wake up and feel inexplicably restless.  I then do a mental count in my head of how many days it has been since I left the house.  It's never been more than a week since we go to church on Sundays, but it is sometimes quite a few days.  On those days I feel like Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day.  At those times, I have begun to feel (subconsciously) that every day is exactly like the day before with no changes, no variations but ones that make things more frustrating, and everything is stuck in repeat.  It's not that my everyday routine is a bad one, it's just that after a while, the small irritations become increasingly irritating.  It's on those days I call someone up and get out of the house.  We may go to lunch, out shopping, running errands, anything to make the day different.  These days are usually pretty stressful when you're dragging around twin 13 month olds and their 4 year old sister.  Even poor Princess can get stressed from the ordeal just trying to eat in a nice restaurant can become.  **As a side note, a lot of people have made the mistake of saying things like, "I take three kids out by myself all the time" to which I respond, "How many are not walking? Only one, huh? That must be nice to only have to carry one.  And how many aren't potty trained?  Again only one, Hmmm.  That does sound manageable.  Try packing a diaper bag for two, loading up a four year old, putting two babies in carseats, carrying two babies and your wallet (forget the diaper bag at this point) in the store while having the older one hang on to your pocket, putting the two smallest in the buggy (you know, the part they aren't supposed to be in), and then trying to actually buy something.  I'll probably get out more as well when my kids are more mobile. " ** Sorry for getting off subject, but you see where I'm coming from.  It's not easy to just get out and go, but it's worth giving up.  I have learned how to get through the groundhog days.  I just throw in some variation.  It is something I do tend to deal with though.  Ironically enough, I also deal with feelings that are completely opposite.
     On the days when I'm loving the routine of my life, I have this sense of urgency to appreciate every moment, because it will be over before I know it.  I am lucky to get two months of vacation in the summer, but two months passes so much more quickly than I could ever imagine.  I'm constantly thinking of the quote from Andrew Marvell that says, But at my back I always hear time's winged chariot hurrying near.  It feels like time is flying behind me, rushing me forward.  I literally feel like I have to enjoy life as quickly as possible so that I don't miss anything.  I think that is why I always stayed so busy before; I was trying to squeeze as much out of summer as I could.  It didn't work of course, but rather made summer feel shorter instead.  When I was thinking about this post, I almost named it "Groundhog Day and Dorothy's Hour Glass" instead because the image of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz kept popping up in my head.  You know the scene when the witch has her in her castle and she turns over the hour glass and says she's going to kill her when it runs out, and Dorothy sits there staring at it frantically, biting her fingernails, and crying?  That's kind of how I feel at times too.  It's a strange juxtaposition of two completely opposite feelings.  I try not to let myself get depressed by the days ticking by, but I try not to feel stuck in the repetition those days offer either.  As is normal with me, I feel this to be a spiritual lesson.
     God has taught me that 1.  I need to just be still sometimes.  That doesn't mean I get to sit in the floor and play with my kids all day.  There is always plenty to do.  What I do mean by "still" is just being willing to live the simple part of my life.  The part where I'm Mommy and Wifey, not Mrs. 2.  I need to quit worrying about time passing by so quickly and just be in the moment.  You can't look beyond today in dread of it ending and actually enjoy any of it, so just stop and be in the moment, even if it's stressful or hectic. 3.  Don't do things to purposely make the time go by faster or make it feel longer.  Neither works.  In the end, even if every moment is miserable or exhilarating, it will be the past, and we will make of it what we want in our memories.  It's been a great summer, probably the best of my life and still I have little nuances, so I wanted to write this for those of you struggling to enjoy your life right now.  Here's my prayer for us all:
  "God, you are so awesome to give us life.  Sometimes we take the joy out of it by stressing over whether we are enjoying it to the fullest.  Please forgive us for doing so.  Show us how to enjoy life and appreciate it fully.  In the good times, we praise You for goodness.  In bad times, we praise You for Your perfect will.  Thank you for this life. We praise You, we praise You, we praise You."

Looking forward and checking the rearview...

     I'm a person who always looks to the future, the next thing, the IT factor of my life.  I know you already get that about me, but I have to keep it in check spiritually.  I just last week attended my 10 year high school reunion.  Now, it's a little awkward to talk about this on here because I know that several people who follow this blog, knew the "high school me" as well as the "now me", and honestly, I don't know (and may not want to know) how a lot of people viewed me in high school.  Now there were people who knew me well and knew my heart then as well as now, but I would have to say that number is pretty small.  I've changed so much in 10 years in some respects, and in other ways I'm exactly the same.  I assume most people feel that way from decade to decade.  Here's the hard truth...
     I met Dean late in my high school career, so he only knew a little bit of the high school me.  He jokes with me that I was a "mean girl" because he thinks of me as being preppy or snobby, a laughable idea now since there is not even a shred of pretense that I am at all sophisticated or "high class".  His accusation isn't necessarily true.  I wasn't really all that mean all the time, but I could be sometimes.  The sad part of that is that some people may have only interacted with me sometimes, and who knows if they saw the nice me, the mean me, or both.... It used to really bother me, that thought.  I told a few people off, made a few enemies, acted in a mean way.  I also took up for some people, made some friends, tried to show sincerity.  My biggest problem then was a spiritual one.  I was fighting in myself.  I had major issues with body image, self esteem, self worth, you name it.  It's hard to be a teenage girl (or boy) in any time period, and the late 90s-early 2000s were no exception.  Instead of keeping my focus on God always, my eyes wandered towards the enemy camps.  My biggest regret is that I doubt many people would think about me as a high school student and say, "Man, she pointed me to Jesus Christ!"  It makes me sad.  I was a hypocrite; I still am sometimes.  I have my spiritual demons...mostly linked to my mouth, which I fight constantly to control. 
     I guess I was hoping that tons of people would show up to the reunion and I could prove that I am not the person that I once was...But as I think about it now, I'm pretty sure none of us are.  Literally, it is impossible to think anyone from my graduating class could possibly be the same, and I sincerely thank God for how he has changed me.  It is so freeing to know that I don't have to be perfect, pretty, smart, skinny, or anything else that I thought I had to be then.  All He wants is someone willing, and it's okay that I'm a little crazy, it just adds character.  I've never been one to hold a grudge, so I can't relate to those movies where people go back to their high school reunions to show off for people they used to hate, love, or just look up to.  Honestly, that is one of my best traits, and it makes working with teenagers a lot easier for me than for those without this trait.  I can have a run in with someone today, but I'm willing to wipe the slate clean tomorrow. 
     I'm not one to dwell on the past; it makes me crazy when I do because I tend to only see flaws, faults, and short falling.  Maybe that is why I push so hard into the future.
     Ten years ago, I could never have imagined my life now.  I was talking with some friends at the reunion, and someone made the comment to a friend, "I can't believe you're a dad!" to which he replied, "Well, it kind of just happened."  (This particular friend is actually trying to adopt his son legally whom he has had since birth and who has some serious health issues, so please pray for him!)  So many of us could relate on some level to that comment.  For many of us, our little blessings (children or other types) came at a surprising time, in surprising circumstances, (ahem) in surprising numbers, and some of us just aren't there yet to see or receive those blessings.  We all had master plans for our lives, but I can't imagine anyone's "perfect plan" has been what we imagined.  My life is so much better than I had planned for, and I sincerely hope my former classmates can say the same.  I hope they are blessed beyond what they had dreamed years ago.
     My glance in the rearview of life has made me evaluate my goals for the future.  I constantly ask God, "What is next?  Show me where to go from here."  I have a great job.  I love to teach English.  However, my heart is wandering right now.  Pray for me sisters and brothers.  I feel His hand leading me, but I'm so impatient because I don't know to where I am headed.  It's scary to think I'll even hit publish on this one.  I will probably have to publish it before proofing too much lest I chicken out from bearing my heart so freely to the world.  If I could, I would spend my working time encouraging others, specifically ladies.  I have yet to figure out how to make that pay the bills though.  I just know one thing, I have to find what it is I can do for Christ that is more than I am doing now. 
     The only thing giving me the courage to say this to you is the thought that probably others feel as I do about some aspect of this post.  Surely there are other ladies out there who look to the future and wonder what it is that God will do with them next.  I love to hear God speak to me.  I crave it, yearn for it, need it.  I have always needed to be told I am loved by those around me.  in retrospect, it seems that the best lessons I learn from God are those that I must wait on in His silence.  He knows me well.  He knows that to get my attention and to hold me back from going too quickly in a direction without all the preparation I need, He must lead me one step at a time.  I'm going to be honest though, I'm weary, I'm tired from the silence, and I need to know that this spiritual journey I'm on is leading somewhere.  I'm so blessed.  I'm happy in every sense, but I know He has something that I can do for Him, and I want to do it.  I just don't know what "IT" is...

Maybe this time, you guys should write the prayer....

A blessed year.

     On June 29th, I woke up with an accomplished feeling.  I had survived the first year of my twins' lives.  I had this feeling of winning the game Survivor.  Don't get me wrong, if it had been Survivor, I'm almost certain every member of my family (immediate and extended) would have voted me off the island at some point.  However, since that was not an option, I made it!! Dean made it!  Princess made it! Tank and Tinker made it, too!! We all survived the chaos for a whole year.  It was rough year in some ways.  It's hard to change the dynamic of your family by adding to it, and adding more than one at a time, shew!  I had the blissful "we made it" thought, but then I was humbled by another thought.  We hadn't just survived, we manged to eventually thrive!  Tears come to my eyes at this thought, because all I managed to pray for was survival for those first few months.  Then, I started praying like a survivor for us to thrive.  I didn't just want us to make it through the day anymore, I wanted us to enjoy it.  I wanted us to have time to look at one another and really see the person we loved in front of us.  You know what?  We did.  By the grace of God, the five of us, especially Dean and I, learned how to truly enjoy our new lives.  We may wipe enough booties to make us poop experts sometimes, but we laugh, rejoice, and have fun.  It has truly been a blessed year, and there is so much I want to say about it that I'm not sure how this post will turn out.

     There are so many things I will no longer take for granted such as:  sleeping in the dark (rather than with a lamp on), sleeping at all, going out to eat easily, going out to eat for less that $30 ( I can't imagine what it will cost us in ten years!),  "running" out to the store without finding someone to watch my kids or loading three kids in the car, buying less than 4 gallons of milk a week, silence, time to talk to my husband without interruptions, expendable income, exercising alone, feeding only myself at meal time.  There are surely more, but nap time is going to be over soon, so I must press on.  These things may seem bazaar to you, but they are things I have learned to cherish.
     One thing that snuck up on me when the twins were about 6-7 months was the fact that our finances were much tighter.  I knew, of course, that having a baby is expensive so having two would be even more expensive, but I was still in survivor mode for so long that it kind of hit me all at once that things weren't as easy financially.  We keep an account for the big things (mortgages, insurance, etc) that I don't carry with me and one for groceries and conveniences (cell phone bills, tv satellite, etc.)  One is used as a way to save up for the big things that tend to be due semi annually or quarterly.  Why you may ask?  I spend too much money and that keeps me from doing so too badly.  (I say this with shame.)  We don't live lavishly, but I like going out to eat and I can shop just about anywhere (walmart, thrift store, dollar store, you name the store and they've got something I need.)  Anyway, when I had the twins, we took on tons of doctor bills and expenses that come with children, but I never changed my lifestyle to accommodate these new expenses.  So, I have now had to begin being a more proactive spender.  We still go out to eat, I just make sure I know how much money is in the bank so that I'm not transferring money later to buy milk.  It has been good for me to be honest, and I don't think I'll ever go back to swiping a debit card without thinking about the fact that I need to make sure there is enough money in the account to get me through the month.  Luckily, there was always extra in the other account, but it could have been bad.  I guess it's a good thing Dean tends to be....frugal. :)
     I'm so humbled by the changes Dean and I have made.  To be honest, with Princess, I didn't allow Dean to be the best father he was capable of being for a long time.  I repent to God for that so much.  I was so controlling and obsessed with her that I didn't let anyone really enjoy her like they should have, especially Dean since we often have shared time with our kids during the working months of the year.  With the twins, I had to learn to let go.  Dean is more natural with our children than I am, and since the birth of Princess that has been true.  I think back now that I have learned a few things, and I understand now why he thought I was so crazy when Princess was born.   (He didn't necessarily say it that way, but a woman knows...)  I look at him now with such admiration.  What other man would be able to handle a three year old and two newborn babies by himself while I slept, went to the store, or just escaped for a while?  He's amazing; he's more amazing than I give him credit for most of the time.

     I lay in bed the other night thinking about how far we've come.  A year ago, we went to bed with 8 bottles pre-filled with water and a container of formula.  We would sleep with a lamp on, two bassinets beside us, and our bottle prep station set up and waiting.  I don't know how much powdered formula I have spilled in the bed, but I can guarantee that if you want to torture someone, spread a little bit of that stuff on their sheets.  I have been so exhausted that I simply couldn't go any further, and my cup has been so full it overflowed with blessings and love.  I have been deep in the valley and high on the mountain, sometimes in the same day.  Children are amazing that way.  They make us feel emotions so fully, and they remind us of our relationship with God. 
     Here is how I have changed.  I went from being a woman who filled every summer day with something to do to a woman who can stay busy all day with no plans made.  I went from being a woman who knew God's grace to one who feels it every moment.  I went from being a woman who grocery shopped on the fly, to one who makes a list and sticks to it.  I went from being a woman who liked to spend money to being a woman who appreciates value.  I went from being a woman who was busy to being a woman who understands the importance of appreciating the childhood years of her children.  I went from being a woman who could clean her house in two hours to being a woman who couldn't clean it in a whole day, and that's okay.  I've become more of a homemaker, and you know what?  I don't hate it.  I'm an obsessive personality who needs to be planning, thinking, and doing.  So, I've simply had to change my focus from doing as much as possible to running a tighter ship at home.  I like making out a menu, and then a shopping list from the menu, and keeping us on a grocery budget. (I'm still new at this part.)  I like knowing what to cook on any certain day (especially since I am the one deciding ahead of time).  These things bring order to my chaos.  To be completely honest, I think I understand why life is so chaotic anyway.  It makes us turn to God and focus on the important things.  I don't know a single person (other than a few elderly ladies) who doesn't live a chaotic life.  Even those who have fewer responsibilities in life tend to describe it as chaotic.  Most of this we bring upon ourselves, of course.  You know what is humbling?  Those few elderly ladies I know who do not live chaotic lives would love to have that excitement back.  What we complain about, they long for.

     If nothing else came from the name of this blog, it has helped me so much.  I feel that I have truly learned to love the chaos.  I now know that loving my chaos doesn't mean I have to be thrilled during every moment of it; rather, it means that I can appreciate each moment as one that is effecting my life.  Tinker Belle pulled off her diaper the other day after her nap, which let the poop she had just deposited in it escape.  Did I love going in to find her completely naked and poop and pee everywhere?  Not necessarily; but you should have seen the sly little smile on her face, and honestly, we couldn't do anything but laugh.  (Dean took care of the mess by the way.)  Every moment isn't glamorous, but I'm learning that it's okay.  Sometimes it's the late night snuggle with a teething baby, or the smile Princess gives me when I bought her favorite fruit at the store that reminds me what life is about, our legacy.  If my children are my legacy, and my goal is to teach them to love Jesus and share His gospel, then my life gets a lot simpler, even in the midst of the chaos.  Princess rode in the buggy while I shopped last night and sang her own version of a praise song in the store.  She raised her little arm in the air and touched her heart with the other hand truly praising God to the extent she knows how.  I was so touched that I could have cried, and when I realized she was copying what I do, I almost lost it.  That is what it is all about, praising God, not just through singing, but with our lives.  Chaos keeps me close to God.  It makes me depend on Him fully.  It makes me focus, not just float through life.  It has been the biggest blessing in my life to have my three children, that which I expected, and that which I did not expect.
     Thank you, my sisters, for living this year with me on the blog.  At one point I thought that maybe I would stop writing the blog when the twins turned one, but I realize now that my chaos is far from over.  I don't know how much longer I will feel led to write, but maybe we'll all be little old ladies on here sharing stories about our grandchildren getting married and such.  All I know is that I still need you all, and if you're willing, I'm going to keep on.

Here's my prayer for this post:

"Dear Father, thank You so much for my first year as a mother of three.  Thank You for Dean, a man strong enough to handle a woman like me.  Thank You for Princess, my big girl, my helper.  Thank You for my precious babies.  Thank You for letting me watch them this year and all of the milestones that first year holds.  A year ago today, I couldn't imagine what they would look like at a year old, I couldn't imagine them crawling and walking, but I am so blessed to see these things come to pass.  Thank You for motherhood and friends to share it with.  Thank You for my sisters who read this blog and support me through triumphs and heartbreak, God, I need them so much in my life.  I pray that You will bless them with Holy chaos, and that they will draw to You in it and become stronger Christians and women because of it. We praise You, we praise You, we praise You.  Amen"