you're gonna miss this

It's pretty darn easy to find legitimately unpleasant things about every stage of life if we choose to, and we(guilty!) usually do.  For much of my life, I longed for the next stage:  one without school, one with a boyfriend(fun phase, huh, mom?!), with a car, away from home, engaged, married, kids.  You get the picture.  But my sweet, dedicated mom really showed us how to be content(grateful!).  In her circumstances, position, "phase," she chooses contentment.  Complaining was not something you got away with in our house growing up :-)  and I am so grateful that our parents drove Philippians 2 home...and we spent a lot of time "meditating"(aka writing it out 5,789 times, learning it backward and forward, in 3 other languages and 6 translations) on verse 14:  "Do everything without complaining or arguing,"(NIV1984).  I just found Phil. 2:14-16 in The Message and LOVE the way it's delivered:
^14-16Do everything readily and cheerfully—no bickering, no second-guessing allowed! Go out into the world uncorrupted, a breath of fresh air in this squalid and polluted society. Provide people with a glimpse of good living and of the living God. Carry the light-giving Message into the night so I'll have good cause to be proud of you on the day that Christ returns. You'll be living proof that I didn't go to all this work for nothing.
 Love this as it applies to a parent/child relationship.  The last sentence is hilarious when I think about everything a parent does and "endures."


As I'm writing this post, I'm really struggling to put my words into practice.  It is SO hard waking up throughout the night(Axl's acid reflux, a wet toddler bed, bad dreams, random baby screaming, or just because we've gotten into a bad habit of getting Axl up while he's been sick(we're up to 6 ear infections this year), etc.) month after month.  I'm exhausted beyond words.   I haven't had an uninterrupted shower(or a doodie...or even a pee, for that matter) in a few years.  The days of browsing my fave little boutique have been replaced with hours in the toy aisles at Target(seriously, ask Ace what his fave thing is, that's the answer you'll get!).  It takes me half an hour to get ready for a 45 minute pharmacy trip for one item.  My world right now revolves around kid food, toys, repeating myself and explaining things countless times throughout the day, following one kid to pick up what he's dropped that would be dangerous for the munchkin toddling behind him, poop, pee, and spit-up.  It's not glamorous and I have very little time to myself, and virtually no time off.  Aside from my couponing(I'm starting to get the hang of it, y'all.  It's so fun!) or crafting(which I have done rarely in the past year), there is really nothing tangible to show for all of the hours I pour into my boys and my home.  And I could easily sink into a state of self-pity, resenting my kids and/or my husband(you know, because it's their fault I'm in this position in the first place!).

It would be ridiculously easy to spend my days counting the minutes till bedtime, or when Axl's less dependent on me or less clingy, or when Ace stops asking so many questions(please, never!).  When Ace was a baby, we were eager for the upcoming milestones.  The time when we could lay him on the floor/bed/couch and he wouldn't move was something I took for granted.  As was the time his day merely revolved around a boob/bottle, sleep, and poop.  That is as simple and easy(and, essentially predictable, too) as it gets!  Later, you have to build blockades so Littles won't escape to somewhere dangerous, or get into something capable of starting a chemical reaction.  Meals morph into containers of stinky, messy goop.  Soon, they won't just sleep anywhere.  Their naps will whittle away to eventually none and they have (gasp!) OPINIONS.  I'm not sure who said it this way first, but the only thing that's predictable about having a child is the unpredictable.  One of the many reasons I am so thankful for new mercies and for abundant grace. With every breath.

But call me an old soul, or just well-read when it comes to people who have lost their precious babies and/or spouses way before they should have, I just refuse to be a complainer.  I will not wish away this time of life. Sure, my OCD makes it "easy" to control thinking and my behavior(c'mon, if that was really true, we wouldn't have to support a psychiatrist's golf habit).  The choice to live in the moment and get everything possible out of every ounce of life is hard work and super involved. A few blogs spurred this "love them now, love them good" perspective.  These women have stretched my faith and their stories have scarred my heart in the most beautiful way.  My perspective has changed forever.  I try not to live my life in fear of what if's, but I guess that's what it started out as.  What if this was the last day with your baby, child, spouse?  Wouldn't you be a little more loving, a little slower to light a rocket in your unders, and soak up every sweet, frustrating, slobber-filled, stinky, precious, irreplaceable moment?  Then stop complaining and do it.

I'm not saying it's easy.  We've got the hardest job of 'em all.  They're needy and filthy and stink and peel our brains like a banana(thanks, Mark Gungor, for that one) and WHINY.  But worth every second.  And someone always has it worse than I do.  Things can always get worse.  No matter how bad things are, they could always be worse than they are right now.  I have to remind myself of that often.  One day, us mamas(and papas) will miss it.  I'm sure of it.  Heck, I already do.

October 15th

 Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  My heart aches for those who have empty arms.  I feel so fortunate to have my sweet boy with me, so happy and healthy.  Will you hug your babes a little tighter, be a little more patient, treasure them more intentionally today?  If you have a moment, read up on my favorite blogger.  If you don't have a moment, make one.

Last Monday's Run...

Last week, Ace and I set out for what I was planning on being my first 4-mile run since my freshman year (five years and post- pregnancy and childbirth). With more than 3/4 down, I misjudged the height difference between the grass and a driveway (a truck in the driveway was blocking the sidewalk), and it was like we hit a brick wall and Ace's stroller flipped. Ace was facedown on the pavement, and I smashed down on top of him and the stroller. I have never been more afraid in my life. For a split-second (never meant more literally) as I lept off of the stroller and flipped it right-side up, I thought there was no way he could have survived. Praise God it was ridiculously windy that day and Ace was hiding his face from it by burying his face in one side of the stroller. His skull would have been smashed like a watermelon, otherwise. Miraculously, the poor boy escaped with a swollen and slightly scraped nose and a busted lip. Did you know the mouth bleeds easily? There was a lot.of.blood.

Wouldn't you know my phone died as I was calling Mace, and his phone was upstairs so he missed our calls from Dave P.(angel who saw the whole wreck and stopped)'s phone. Hindsight being 20/20, I am glad, because once I cleaned Ace's mouth with the napkins and water from Dave P., I realized he didn't need stitches and nothing was broken...ER visit avoided. That tender-hearted electrical-wirer(not sure what else he did, but know he wired our neighbors' houses and was on hid way to a job site elsewhere in the neighborhood) was so kind to us. While I was trying to call Mace, he gave Ace an apple, that Mr. DP called a ball(Ace's fave), and ended up throwing my stroller in the back of his truck and took us home - just around a couple of corners. You can imagine Mace's astonishment when I hobbled in holding a bloody-faced Ace.

What a Mighty God we serve. I have unfortunately never meant that more whole-heartedly.

I recreated the stroller's position for effect, and here are some photos of the damage. Please note, I bruise easily but am not anemic. I just do. It's kind of annoying...and a little gruesome, here. The pictures don't do them justice. Hoping we don't do anything like that again...I'm still pretty sore(but SO glad it's me and not Ace)!

Still gives me chills...Won't ever forget that image.

I can't depict for you just how close we were to disaster...

My legs caught the brunt of it...

Poor buddy's busted lip and Rudolph nose...both short- lived

His mama made him a smoothie...and back at the barnyard helped, too.

Pretty sweet bruise (talking to Mace, not trying to look cool)...

Nasty.

Mercy. Literally. Sweet dreams, all!