I apologize in advance

March 26, 2013 by 1 Comment

Hello friends! First, let me say, I apologize in advance for this blog post. It may very well exceed the limits of good taste and propriety. But sometimes, I can’t believe this is my life, it is so ridiculous. But then, the more absurd it is, the more I think I should share it, because who doesn’t need a good laugh now and then? And if it happens to involve me or be at my expense, well, I am good with that.

I started potty training Bette this weekend, which I have held off doing it, because I wanted to make sure she was ready and had enough language to understand the concept. Because she is already three years old, I honestly thought the whole experience wouldn’t be too bad. I mean, I have already successfully potty trained one child. How hard could the next one be? Turns out, extremely hard. And as you can see, it has been a delightful experience for the whole family.

IMG_3270

I did learn two valuable lessons over the weekend; two things that I had suspected, but never confirmed as postivitely true. Until now.

1. Bette is totally ready to be potty trained.

The girl can hold her bladder for hours. Really, hours. Her massive fluid intake or that she often seemed to approaching the human limit for bladder control are irrelevant to how long she can actually hold it. She just held it and held it and held it.

2. Bette is also as stubborn as a mule.

Because she could hold it for hours at a time, she refused to actually go in the potty. It didn’t matter how many times I put her on the toilet, or how long I made her sit there, she did her best not to go. At one point, she sat on the toilet for 90 minutes. 90 MINUTES! I mean, what in the world?

And I tried everything. I coaxed her. I cheered her along. I offered candy treats. And nothing worked. She cried. She fussed. She played. And she refused to go until she was good and damn ready.

After awhile, as she was sitting on the toilet, I gave up trying to convince her and decided that I wasn’t going to let her crying and fussing get to me (which adorably, she did until she was hoarse). Instead, I plopped myself down on the stairs across from the bathroom and read a book. I find this to be completely inexplicable now, because as an introvert, I should have been a basket case. I should have been pulling my hair out.

And it could very well have been that my two level limit of concentration ( Level 1: screaming child; Level 2: reading a book) was not exceeded. If anything or anyone else had needed my attention, I probably would have fallen apart and started crying.

But I have also been praying lately that the Lord would grant me a more gentle and quiet spirit, which is something I am in desperate need of, particularly the gentle part. Quiet isn’t really a problem for me. I can be quiet all day long, at least on the outside, even if I don’t feel quiet and calm on the inside.

But I really lack the quality of gentleness, so much so that I usually have to check myself before speaking. I can be much too direct and brash. And I am always sticking my foot in my mouth and saying something stupid. A little more gentleness would go a long way in me.

I think the Lord may have poured out a momentary gift of supernatural quietness and gentleness on me, enabling me to not get upset, mad, or frustrated. It is the only way to explain my reaction to the absurdity of the whole situation.

Bette screamed the entire time I read my book. She screamed when I walked away from her for a few minutes. And she sobbed if I tried to periodically help or coax her, mostly so she wouldn’t forget why she was on the potty in the first place.

But man, am I glad that God meets us where we are, at all times and in all places. And I am so thankful He is willing to give us what we need when we need it, even in the midst of the most ridiculous circumstances.

P.S. If you have any tips or advice, please send it my way. Just leave a comment, because I could use all the help I can get!

 

Filed Under: Life, Life with a Special Needs Child, Little Ones, Motherhood, Parenting, Reflections

Capping Off Summer

August 3, 2012 by 2 Comments

Hello friends! We’re back, after a last minute, end of summer (but really beginning of summer for us) trip to the beach. The house we stay in at the beach had a whole week open in its July calendar, when no one was using or renting it, so we jumped on it. And by jump on it I mean I called and texted JackMike every day (harass would probably be a better word) until he gave us the green light to come down and keep the house company.

The girls and I packed, loaded up, and drove out of town with Uncle Haynsie accompanying us. It was too short of notice for Jay to join us, which we hated. But six hours in the car with Bette is enough to make anyone lose their sanity. Someone had to go with us. Haynes was free for the week and happy to endure the ride. He said being in a car with Bette was nothing compared to what he endured in his recent travels in India, which I imagine was dirty, crowded, noisy, loud  challenging on a whole different level.

The weather was fantastic during our trip. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky for four days straight, which was quite a change from our last trip. It was so rainy and gray, and we were cooped up so much, unable to do anything, that I almost had a breakdown.

The sun was bright and hot this trip that I finally understood the whole rash guard phenomenon. I have always thought it was stupid – mostly stupid looking – all those little kids on the beach with shirts on. I mean, what is the point of going to the beach if you have to wear a shirt the entire time, hmmmm?

But I actually regretted I hadn’t invested in any and we didn’t have that extra layer of sun protection. So, I reapplied the girls sunscreen about every 15 minutes, which got on their nerves fast. But neither of my clear little babies got sunburned, so it was a victory for mom!

We spent some time with friends at the beach, who we dragged along sailing with us. They had never been and we were excited for them to go with us. After we all geared up, Ms. Katie and I pushed the boat, with all of our measly might, into the water and through the waves while Captain Josh steered. There were a lot of squeals at the beginning, from both the moms and kids. We finally hauled ourselves onto the boat, got settled into our spaces and took off for a sail down the coast.

We also made some new friends. Well, I think they are still our friends. Bette, in a way only Bette can do, actually managed to pee on all their stuff at the pool one day. She was over at their chairs, checking out their shoes, because you know how she loves shoes. And right there, in the middle of all their belongings, she went to the bathroom in her swim diaper and pee went everywhere.

I absolutely hate swim diapers sometimes.

I was mortified. MORTIFIED. Amazingly, my new mom friend didn’t even notice. Which made me question whether I should confess or just haul ass and my babies out of the pool and run like we stole something. But obviously that would be… poor form, awful, terrible of me? Definitely all of the above. So I confessed, saying something along the lines of Um, I hate to tell you, but my kid just peed on all your stuff.

She was very cool about it – much cooler than I would have been – and I did try to clean their stuff. I dumped whatever I could into the pool to sanitize it. Then I convinced a little girl nearby to loan me her ridiculously small sand bucket, which I used to wash down the ground around their chairs. By the time we left the pool, which was shortly thereafter, their stuff was soaking wet from both pee and chlorine. Hopefully more chlorine than pee.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Except for that one day at the pool when I had to go to the bathroom and told Lilla I would be right back.

Which bathroom are you going to? That one right there. Lilla likes to know every detail.

Not the one way over there, right? Right. She doesn’t like to be left alone for too long.

And you will come right back here? Yes. She wants to know exactly how long whatever you are doing without her will take.

Okay. I will be right here, Mom. Come straight back here. Where else am I going to go?

I moved toward the bathroom and I was about 20 feet away from her when another question popped into her head. Another question that would add just a little more clarity to the situation for her.

Wait! Mom! MOOOOOMMMM! She yelled to me across the pool.

DO YOU HAVE TO GO PEE OR POOP?

I almost died. And then I turned and glared at her.

It didn’t matter though. She couldn’t see my face from that far away. Instead, she gave me a thumbs sign and went on playing. I, on the other hand, ran to the bathroom to escape all the stares and snickers from the surrounding people.

Other than those two lovely little incidents, we had an amazing time. A week at the beach with my babies was the best way to cap off the summer!

 

Filed Under: Bette, Family, Friends, Life, Lilla, Little Ones, Parenting, Travel

Dear Bette, On Your 2nd Birthday

March 8, 2012 by Leave a Comment

My darling Bette,

Today is your second birthday.

Two years ago today, you were born into this world. Two years ago today, you were put in to my arms for the first time. And two years ago today, I cried with joy and thanksgiving that God gave me such a beautiful gift as you.

Your first two years were not easy. You endured more in your first two years – more hospitals, more surgeries, more procedures, and more tears – than most people endure in a lifetime. And there were many things I worried about during your first two years, but I never worried about you not being able to handle what you had to go through. Because you have always been so strong and determined. You have always know your mind and what you want. And you never let any thing stand in your way. Even in the worst moments, I knew you would be okay, because you are nothing if not a fighter.

But you are full of softness too. You are full of hugs and kisses and cuddles. You scream with joy when someone you love walks into the house. You dance with abandon when there is music. And there is such a sparkle in your eye and a light that shines so brightly from you that it sometimes takes my breath away.

There is so much I dream and desire for you as your mother and I pray for you daily. I pray you never feel self-conscious or different. I pray your are impervious to the cruelty of others, as well as to their taunts and teases. I pray you are a girl and woman of great strength and toughness, but also of kindness, gentleness, and humility. And I pray, most of all, that you move forward in life full of deep confidence and security, in both your relationship with Christ and who He created you to be.

I am so proud to be your mother, and I am proud of you, of what you have endured, and how far you have come. My life is better and fuller and richer because of you. You, and your dear sister, are the reasons that I was born. And I could not love any more.

Love Always and Forever,

Mama

 

 

 

Filed Under: Bette, Hearing Impairment, Life with a Special Needs Child, Little Ones, Parenting, Reflections

Bedtime Conversations With Little Ones

October 27, 2011 by 1 Comment
 

Jay and I.
We take turns.
Putting the girls to bed.
Each night.

It doesn’t take too much time.
To get either of the girls to bed.
Bette goes right down.
While Lilla likes to chat some.
 
Once she gets all snuggled in.
And under the covers.
I sit and talk with her.
For a few minutes.
 
About how she is feeling.
I ask if there is anything.
She wants to tell me.
 
Fairly often she confides something in me.
The rest of the time she says she is fine.
And thinks up stuff to talk about.
To keep me there longer.
 
Sometimes I ask her.
To think and tell me.
About all the good things.
That happened during the day.
 
I try to limit it to three to five items.
Because if I don’t she will go and on and on.
In an attempt to procrastinate going to sleep.
And I might end up there all night.
 
Sometimes it takes a minute for her to remember.
And I may need to jar her memory.
But after she tells me.
We pray together.
 
We thank the Lord.
For all of the good things.
That happened during the day.
And that He blessed us with.
 
My hope is that as she grows older.
She will understand.
That all good things.
Are a gift from the Lord.
 
Whether it is something meaningful.
Or an object.
Or an experience.
Or an relationship.
 
Whether it is something big.
Or something small.
And trivial.
I hope and pray she remembers.
 
That all good things.
Are a gift from the Lord.
And that He alone.
Is the source of all good things.
 
Filed Under: Help For A Mother's Heart, Little Ones, Parenting, Reflections

What I Learned About Parenting In Al-anon

September 8, 2011 by 3 Comments

Dropping off the dry cleaning is not my job.

 
I do not drop it off and I do not pick it up. Jay takes care of that. Because it is all his stuff. A few female items do end up in the dry cleaning pile, which I am sure we pay an exorbitant amount of money to be cleaned, but it is still his job.

 
Unless he forgets. And then I get a call that usually involves the words, Can you please drop the dry cleaning off?
 
To which I say, No problem. Because the place is two seconds from our house. And I am always up for a legitimate errand because it means my kids will be contained in the car and unable to get out.
 
And he tells me, Thanks. And please don’t forget.
 
Like I would ever forget.
 
So I load the kids up. Which I used to think was a big fat pain. Loading all the kids up to do one measly errand. But not anymore. Because it means they will be strapped in the car. They will be in their seats and I will be in mine. For a few minutes, I will have a little bit of personal space.
 
After I load up the kids, I think, Why not make some phone calls too?
 
I crank the car, turn the air on full blast, roll the windows down to get some cross ventilation going, hand my kids some snacks, and stand in the shade of a nearby tree and made some calls.
 
Calls to doctors. Because we have genetics testing soon for Bette. And the genetics people want every single medical records she has. And that requires phone calls. Lots of phone calls.
 
My kids sit in the car. They quietly eat their snacks. And they watch me through the open windows.
 
 
Awhile back, I spent about a year in Al-anon, the recovery group for family members of addicts. Every meeting began with each person sharing two adjectives to describe exactly how they were doing that day. Or exactly how they were feeling.
 
Sitting there, in a group of people who had the same problems you did, which was essentially trying to cope with an uncontrollable addict in your life, it forced you to think about the state of your heart. You had to think about why you felt the way you felt. About what was upsetting you. Or about what was pissing you off.
 
You had to think about your emotions and think about them honestly, because they aren’t too big on bullshit in anything related to AA.
 
You were forced to get to the core of it all and get to it fast using only two adjectives.
 
I think about that exercise as it relates to my kids. Shouldn’t I be teaching my kids to do the same thing? To think about the state of their hearts. To think how they feel. And about why they feel the way they do.
 
Not to create overly emotional kids who grow up to be overly emotional adults. But to raise kids who think about their emotions and their hearts who grow into adults who are able to monitor the state of their heart; who know when their heart is right and when it isn’t; and who can detect when something unhealthy is taking root and needs to be dealt with and dealt with fast.
 
I try to ask Lilla that at some point every day: How is your heart? I try to take a moment. To slow down or stop and make sure all is well and that I haven’t missed something. That I haven’t unknowingly hurt her feelings or forgotten something and she is upset but not telling me.
 
Because little kids are like that. You tell them something or agree to something that gets forgotten about in the chaos of the day and in the process you hurt their feelings but you don’t even know it.
 
After I leave a few messages that do not have laughing or crying or screaming in the background, I open Lilla’s door. I ask her how she is. Good. How is your heart? Good.
 
Really, everything is good? Yes.
 
I give her a big hug. And a few kisses.
 
Bette is watching us. So I go around and give her a few smackers too.
 
And then we were off to drop off the dry cleaning.
 
Which I was supposed to pick up. But I forgot.

 

Filed Under: About Me, Little Ones, Motherhood, Parenting, Perspectives, Reflections
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