An Easter Basket Without a Bow

For the past 5 years, another family and ours have tried to reach out to our neighbors through a neighborhood Easter egg hunt. The idea has never really taken off like we'd hoped, but by the time the following year rolls around we have forgotten the low turnout from the year before and we jump in with fresh optimism (kinda like having a baby). This year, we were particularly confident as Easter was so late in the spring that it was bound to be warm...(insert ominous foreshadowing here.)

So, on a couple sunny evenings leading up to the big day, we canvased the neighborhood and passed out about a dozen flyers to families with kids, both those we knew and those we hoped to know soon through our Easter party. We posted on the Nextdoor neighborhood app, and strangers forwarded the event on to other strangers. We sent texts, created a Facebook event, and told friends to invite friends.

Then we prepared. We weeded, mulched, fertilized, planted, trimmed, and generally beautified the yard. We cleaned the inside of the house. We bought hundreds of eggs and stuffed them with all sorts of goodness. We bought hotdogs, buns, and lemonade, we made Resurrection Rolls. And then we waited. 

Well, in full disclosure, I should add that I also fretted. Most of you heard me worrying over the forecast for the whole week leading up to the event. You were likely an unfortunate, possibly unwilling, participant in my deliberation over whether to reschedule, but there was no good solution. So, I just prayed that the meteorologists were wrong and God would shift the expected beautiful Sunday weather a day earlier for our event, all the while feeling ridiculous for praying for weather. But, we were trying to love our neighbors, exactly what Jesus had told us to do, why wouldn't God want to bless our efforts. 

Alas, I woke up to this forecast for our 10:30am hunt, and my mood became as dreary as this screenshot.

A friend had posted on Facebook that the two cold gloomy days leading up to the gloriously warm and sunny Resurrection Day were appropriate. Yes, appropriate for God's subtle artistry maybe, but not appropriate for a community outreach in your yard!

So, to make a long story a tad shorter, the only family, out of the dozens we invited, who showed up to gather eggs in the freezing rain was the other family who co-hosts with us. Bless them!

We had a lovely time catching up with them, and their oldest daughter even said that she likes Easter egg hunts in the rain best, because she got more candy! But it was hugely disappointing and frustrating. It was our annual attempt to meet new neighbors and reconnect with old ones, and it had failed. 

I found myself doubting. Not that God existed, but that He cares about our details and our plans. And then I felt ridiculous again thinking of my friends who just lost their daughter and how they continued to praise God and call Him good. 

If you've read any of my previous posts, you're likely waiting for the happy ending, or the lesson I learned. But there's not one this time. Pastor Jim Burgen says to share your stories before they have bows on them. So, I'm trying it out. There's no bow on this one. And there's no bow on a lot of your stories yet either. But God is still good. Today, we found out that for the 12th cycle in a row, we won't be expecting the little baby our family has decided we would so love to bring into the world. But He is still good. 

And tonight at church, I thought of the disciples in that room on Saturday night. Dumbfounded, frustrated, disappointed, shaken to the core by the changes that had happened since Thursday. There was no bow on their story yet. But Sunday was coming. 

Friends, even if you don't have a bow on your story, even if we never get the bow that we're waiting for, longing for, convinced that we need... God is still good, and Sunday's still coming. 

The tomb is empty, friends. And so yummy!

"Do not be afraid; for I know that you are looking for Jesus who has been crucified. He is not here, for He has risen, just as He said. Come, 

see the place where He was lying. Go quickly and tell His disciples that 

He has risen from the dead;" -Matthew 28:5-7

The Prayers of Babes

The boys have started praying more regularly and I just can't handle it.

Each time they talk to God, unless it's about Paw Patrol, my heart nearly explodes with pride, tempered by mild conviction that my own prayer life isn't as strong as a 2 or 4 year-old's. They're keeping me humble and teaching me to pray with the faith of a child. 

At Grandma's house a couple weeks ago, we asked Isaiah if he wanted to say grace before dinner. He agreed, we bowed our heads, and his prayer was pretty much over before we'd shut our eyes: "Dear God, thank you for you. Amen"

I jumped in before anyone started to eat, "Uh, don't you want to thank Him for the food, or anyone else, or... Never mind, that's profound. Wow. That's deep, Buddy!" Why do I pray so many words? "Thank you God for you," about sums it all up.

At bedtime, I usually take Paul, and Jon puts Isaiah down. One evening, I held Paul's hand and thanked God for him, praying that he might grow in stature and in favor with God and man, then I let go. He quickly re-grabbed my hand, closed his eyes and said, "'Zaiah!" So, as my heart melted, I prayed for his brother. Then, he said, "Angie!", so I prayed for his sister. Finally, he exclaimed "Dada!" So, I prayed for Daddy. Now, each night, he makes sure I pray for all of them. 

Today, we were reading the story of Zacchaeus. When we got to the part about Zacchaeus not having any friends because he stole everyone's money when he was collecting taxes, Isaiah interrupted me and said we should pray for him to be nice. So we did. And you know what God answered that prayer, Zacchaeus turned nice just a few sentences later!

At a stoplight this afternoon on the way to Angie's tennis match, I said to the boys, "Sorry, this light is taking forever!" Isaiah responded, "Dear God, please help the light turn green." And just like that, it did! He asked who makes the lights turn colors and we talked about the computer system, so he knows God isn't a genie who grants your every wish, but I sure do love that he can connect his requests with answers and believe in the power of prayer at such a young age.

Last night, Isaiah had a terrible nightmare. He woke up this morning still talking about it. At one point he said, "Mommy, tonight we should pray that we don't have any bad dreams come into our beds." I agreed that was an excellent idea and asked him to help me or Daddy remember. A few minutes later, he continued, "Actually, we don't have to wait till tonight, we can ask God right now!" Buddy, you are so wise. So, we did. Why wait to talk to God later when you can talk to Him right now. 

I do not take these moments for granted...

Stay tuned for more lessons on seamlessly communicating with God from my budding prayer warriors. They're teaching me so much.

"Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus." -1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

4 Years of Isaiah!

This birthday, was the first time Isaiah was truly aware of all that birthdays entail. Last year, we got away with telling people "No gifts please" at his party. This year, he is obsessed with TOYS! He had special cake requests and asked for all things Paw Patrol! Having his brother's birthday 10 days before his was nearly unbearable for him, so we spread out the birthday present fun by letting them unwrap something every day between their birthdays. Thank you, family and friends, who sent and brought gifts to lengthen their celebration and Birthday Season! It's been a super exciting month.

It's funny how much more likeable some ages are than others. Isaiah's been in a bit of a tantrum stage for... how many years has it been now? I've lost count. But although he still threatens to punch you if you do something he dislikes, he seems to be coming out the other side of the Tantrumy Twos and Threes fairly unfazed, right as his brother is heading in. Praise the Lord for recognizing my limitations as a mother to whiny toddler boys and alternating their moodiness.

I often hear it said that the things that drive you craziest in other people are usually the flaws you recognize in yourself. I suppose this is fairly universal or people wouldn't keep repeating it, but it doesn't really resonate with me. What drives me a bit nutty about Isaiah is his unhurried pace and contentment with his current situation. Do you like how I put a positive spin on his meandering, unmotivated approach to life? I don't think many people would accuse me of having a lack of drive or energy, he's definitely not my mini-me like his brother.

But where Isaiah's personality is a bit slow, his mind is not. Watching him learn is my favorite thing. When he reads a book on his own, or asks for another Bible story, it literally makes my day. Listening to him make up songs is music to my ears, even if the songs leave something to be desired in the music department. When he enchants adults with his conversation skills, it's just too much! And when he prays out loud, it melts this mama's heart.

Some nights, when I carry him to his bed after he falls asleep, I struggle to lift his solid 40 pounds of adorableness. Putting him down is almost as difficult, knowing that these cuddly days are short-lived. I drink in his sweet soft smell and steal a kiss before tucking him in.

I would be more reluctant to let him grow up if he weren't growing into such a smart, funny, handsome, entertaining, little boy. Now, I pray that we can also teach him to be kind, the most important trait of all... 

How many Paw Patrol toys (and a dinosaur) does it take to help blow out 4 candles?

Cute brother hugs in our house are almost always the result of an offense that required an apology.

Sneaky guy found a way to be almost as tall as Angie. (Note the coffee table underneath him.)

Giving up traditional naps means stealing some non-traditional ones.

We should probably set a goal for him to stop sucking his thumb. Is 10 years-old good?

Paul and the Tremendous Twos!

I don't want to condemn Paul's next year by calling it the Terrible Twos, but at the same time I'm not quite optimistic enough to go with Terrific either. I thought Tremendous sounded about perfect, as he is bound to continue to do everything with huge emotions, hopefully more often with enthusiasm than angst, but he is getting better at lying down on the floor as he masters the classic temper tantrum. Where it was clearly innate with Isaiah, it appears to be more of a learned behavior for Paul as he struggles to get the steps right for how to be convincing in his fits of anger.

We took Paulie into our beloved pediatrician today for his 2-year checkup and discovered that while his speech and hair growth are a bit behind for his age, his growth, potty-training, and motor skills are right on track or ahead. He weighed in at 30 pounds even, which is exactly the same weight as Isaiah at his 2-year checkup! He's just about 3 feet tall and his head is just as big as it looks!

I regularly tell Paul that he's my hero. This kid is pretty much everything I want to be when I grow up. It took me until just about now to figure out what it is that he has that I admire so. It's initiative! If initiative is seeing what needs to be done and doing it, this guy has got it coming out of his ears. It's both impressing and blessing my socks off! Although he can't communicate with us well yet, he is constantly listening, picking up on what we are saying, and taking action! If anyone gets hurt, including himself, he makes a beeline for the freezer to get an icepack. If we even mention the word haircut, he races upstairs to retrieve the haircutting toolbox! Need a drink, ice, a fork, socks, shoes, a stool, nail clippers? Just say the word and he's off on a mission. I pray this plays out as internal motivation, drive, and getting things done without procrastinating as he matures. 

His allergies are doing amazing! As far as we can tell, they're all cleared up, but we haven't quite made the full switch to Cow's Milk. He seems to be self-regulating and taking dairy slowly, still hesitating on pizza, lasagna and such, but his first taste of Cheetos was a complete success:

"Mom, where have these been all my life?!?"

 

Donut hole powdered sugar.

His smile slays me!

Helping serve at Southeast Christian Church

I pray with him most nights as I snuggle him to sleep that he will grow in wisdom, stature, and favor with God and man. (Luke 2:52) I should probably start praying that his hair will fill in, but even if it never does he's pretty much perfect in my book. It's such an honor and a privilege to be his mommy, I can't wait to see what God has in store for him in the coming years...

Charles Year in Review/Preview

As 2018 winds down in just a couple short hours, I was inspired by others' recaps to reminisce about how God has blessed us this year and look ahead to 2019. 

Jon and I haven't had any milestones to speak of. At midnight, we'll celebrate 7 years since he proposed. The banality and beauty of making a living, raising kids, and doing life together have not been lost on us. We feel the hard work of it all, and we recognize God's grace and favor in our sweet family. One of the highlights for me this year, was hosting 2 online marriage small groups through Christian Veterinary Mission, for other couples striving to love each other like Christ loves each of us. In 2019, I'm looking forward to making fools of ourselves together in a church volleyball league. We rarely make time to do things for our marriage, or our fitness, so it will be fun to sweat and laugh side by side.

Angie's halfway through her third year at Portland Christian School, which means she's 1.5 years from graduating high school! As a sophomore, she received the Triple Threat award for playing a sport all three seasons. This year, she tried something new and traded in soccer for volleyball, and she took the winter season off, a welcome reprieve for us from dragging the boys to indoor sporting events (holding still in bleachers is not their jam.) She's decided to focus more on tennis with the hope of maybe playing in college. Through her high school she visited a few local universities and really became enamored with one. So, we're talking a lot about the future, although it terrifies her, and trying to narrow down what options are wisest, and what direction God might have set out for her.

In the meantime, she also joined the school choir, which has been a treat for all of us. I really had no idea she could sing. I had actually noticed a lovely voice near me during church worship on more than one occasion, but always thought it was a stranger nearby. I'm so glad someone else was less dense than me and recognized Angie's talent.

In the biggest recent news, for Angie, and really the whole family, Angie worked hard to complete her written test, drive for 60+ hours, and last week pass her driving test to receive her restricted driver's license! It has already meant more freedom for her, and for all of us! 

Isaiah is just a few weeks shy of 4 years old. 2 and 3 have been hard years, as is to be expected. No one says the toddler years are smooth. But, as 4 began to approach, and Isaiah's OCD behaviors, meltdowns, and utter ridiculousness seemed to be increasing instead of decreasing, I was getting a bit concerned that 4 wouldn't be the gamechanger we were hoping for. But just a couple weeks ago, the crazy started to subside. The tantrums are more avoidable, the compulsiveness is less extreme, and the boys are even playing nice, hugging, and sharing sometimes! There is hope for 2019!

In other news, we began reading over the summer, and he's doing really well. He can't hold still for more than 3 seconds strung together, but if you can keep a basic book in front of his face as it moves, he can read it. 

Isaiah, literally a kid in a candy store!

Paul is as goofy and full of life as ever. Praise the Lord, he isn't nearly as full of allergies as he used to be though. We're trying to introduce him to all the wonderful foods that eggs and milk have to offer, but having been off dairy for so long we're struggling to convince him of the greatness of pizza, lasagna, and cheese. Hopefully he'll come to his senses in 2019!

Other than decreasing his allergen counts in 2018, Paulie's greatest accomplishment was learning to use the potty. He's not 100% yet, but he's had some accident-free days and even a couple dry diaper nights, so we're well on our way.

Just like everyone else, we have big plans for January. Tomorrow, I start a daily devotional group with other veterinary moms, called 365 One-Minute Christian Challenges. I'm also looking forward to joining a women's Bible Study Fellowship group in the coming weeks. The same week we start our volleyball league, I have two meetings to learn more about Classical Conversations, a homeschool model we hope to implement in the fall. Then, my normal work wildness ensues, with 25+ days of travel between mid-January and mid-March. So, all prayers appreciated for the homefront as I abandon it yet again.

Our crazy crew in 2018!

I don't have any huge goals for the new year, but I am resolving to assign blame less and give credit more. How much more lovely would the world, and our home be, if we rarely pointed a finger in accusation, but regularly lifted each other up for being kind? Cheers to a kinder more Christ-like 2019!

Flying with Kids, Yours or Not

We flew to Utah as a family a couple weeks ago. Unfortunately, we also had to fly back a few days later. It was unfortunate because, duh--Utah, mountains, aspen trees in the fall, time with my sister, swimming in a crater... Isaiah even had a meltdown the entire car ride back to the airport (at 4:00 AM) because he didn't want to leave Utah unless we promised we were going somewhere else with mountains. But really it was unfortunate, because after the flights to get there, we were about ready to settle out West just to avoid the flights back East. 

Flying with kids is hard. Traveling with kids is hard. Let's be real, life with kids is hard. This morning, I'm sitting in an airport alone on my way back out West, but this time I'm flying solo, and realizing just how simple EVERYTHING is. TSA was a breeze, going to the bathroom is a non-issue, and being on the actual plane was a relaxing peaceful oasis in my otherwise crazy life. 

I should clarify though. Angie (16) is easy, she packs for herself, carries her own bag, and listens to headphones like the rest of the teenagers. Isaiah (3) isn't even too bad. He can be readily entertained for long stretches with games, books, or just by sucking his thumb and taking it all in. Paul (1), on the other hand, is a wild man in constant motion, challenged by the prospect of the cramped quarters to skip an entire nap at naptime in the vibrating white noise of the flying machine that even few adults can resist. His attention span is approximately 1 minute 45 seconds, and a 3 hour flight is made up of a LOT of 1 minute 45 second intervals. Also, under Paul's influence, Isaiah is convinced he should not be outdone by his brother in the shenanigans department. So, the competition of crazy ensues.

If only airplanes had moving sidewalks like airports,

 the boys could be entertained for hours, or at least 10s of minutes.

I'm sharing all this to say that if you sit near a well behaved child on a plane, or even a mediocrely behaved child, their parents likely worked their tails off to make that happen for you. When people told me that our kids were so good on the flights, I'm sure I should have taken it as a compliment, and I probably did say the appropriate "Thank You," but what I meant was "You're Welcome!"

On one of our 4 flights, I think Paul and I were the only 2 people (other than the pilots I suppose) not to nap at all. You're welcome. What I wanted to do was let Paul run up and down the aisle squealing with delight, rummaging through your belongings to see if you brought him any candy while I closed my eyes too, because I had also been up since 2:30am like the rest of you passengers.

But what I did instead was contain him for an interminable amount of time in a 2' x 2' space on my lap/at my feet like keeping a baby velociraptor in a cage meant for a parakeet.

If you don't even notice there's a child on the plane near you till you deplane, or if you do notice, but you don't mind, you should give that parent a medal, or at least a hug. In order to be considerate to you those parents have (1) timed their child's sleep to optimize naps and crankiness, (2) packed enough snacks for a tiny army to keep the hooligans full, occupied, and their ears comfortable at the changing altitudes, (3) brought sufficient unique toys, games, videos, and books to hold them still for the duration of the flight, (4) planned for the novelty factor and made trips to Dollar Tree, Wal-Mart, and/or Amazon to have trinkets that will actually catch their toddler's attention, (5) visited the plane's bathroom possibly multiple times, so you wouldn't have to smell a poopy diaper or hear the consequent fussing, (6) restrained their slippery octopus in such a way to minimize kicking the back of your seat, pulling your hair, banging the tray table, and invading your personal space, (7) sacrificed their own personal space, rest, and a large portion of their sanity to stay on high alert lest their vandal escape their grasp and disturb your peace. (If said child is an infant, add 'nursing in a cramped public setting with strangers' to this list of extravagant endeavors.)  So instead of giving parents the side eye when your seat gets bumped or a baby screams for a moment, maybe try giving them a break or an empathetic smile.  

This morning, there was a family traveling with a 2 year-old and a 4 year-old in the row in front of me. After our short flight, I thanked the mom for working so hard to keep her daughter in good spirits. She told me this was the easy flight; their next leg was a 16-hour trip to Delhi! 

I felt slightly called to abandon my own plans and join them in order to begin my new in-flight ministry of helping parents with their wild children. Instead, I guess I'll just start by encouraging the extra sleep-deprived, extra stressed-out parents I fly with, and offering to help whenever I can. I hope we can all become better neighbors to flying families. The least we can do is thank parents for their heroic efforts to maintain tranquility in the air. Actually, what I could do to launch my ministry is take my maniacs on random flights around the world and close my eyes for that coveted nap, demonstrating how toddlers would naturally behave unsupervised. Then we all might appreciate how unappreciated these super hardworking parents really are!

Weaning for Dummies

I sure hope no one was confused by the title and came here looking for a weaning tutorial. On the contrary, I was hoping you all could give me some tips. I've often asked why is there so much written on breastfeeding and so little said about weaning? For me, nursing is pretty straightforward and natural, but weaning is not so simple. I say that, but in all honesty, nursing Paul was a real struggle. I fought hard to make it to 6 months. Then, I thought it would be a miracle if we made it to a year. I never imagined we'd make it to 19 months!!

At less than 1 month-old, Paul developed reflux and by 3 months it was like my milk was burning a hole in him as soon as it touched his esophagus, he would writhe and scream. He hated nursing and when we gave in and did a trial with hypoallergenic formula, he was initially appalled by the taste, but then so relieved that it didn't hurt him. It would have been easy to switch to formula at that point for his comfort and my convenience, but I do not for one second take for granted the health and relational benefits my boys and I enjoy through breastfeeding, so I stubbornly persevered. I'm sure the expense of hypoallergenic formula encouraged me to stay the course as well. :)

In his first 7 months, I tried giving up dairy in combination with many other things. It wasn't until our beloved allergist diagnosed him with both milk AND egg allergies that we were able to make nursing a success for us both, although it meant giving up all dairy and eggs indefinitely. 

I think Paulie recognized how hard we fought to make BFing work too, and having earned it he didn't underappreciate it either. Loving cheese, butter, ice cream, frosting, baked goods, and all things creamy, I tried to start weaning him at a year, but he was reluctant. 6 months later I was still trying to cut him off. Like most mamas, our last nursing session to go was the one at bedtime. When I tried redirecting him to soy milk, he would scream like I was hurting his feelings as much as my dairy-filled milk had originally hurt his GI tract. Because I valued the beauty of our nursing relationship so much, I decided not to let it end on such an ugly note, even if it meant I'd have to go to college with him. 

I set the goal to wean him before my trip to the University of Florida last week, as it would be my first overnight away from Paul. With the side benefit that it was just before Jon's birthday, because weaning Paul meant I could enjoy dinner out with Jon for his birthday without having to scrutinize a menu for traces of butter or cheese. 

With the help of others putting him down whenever they were available to for naps and bedtime, we finally weaned, but I wasn't nearly as eager to get back to dairy as I, or others, expected. It took me a couple days to realize it, but I feel a bit like I'm betraying Paul as the only dairy and egg-free person in our family now. We were a team, and now he is alone in his plight. I still choose PB&J or other safe foods often so I can share with him when he climbs in my lap halfway through every meal. But that doesn't mean I haven't splurged.

There have been 2 extended periods in my life where I've gone without Papa John's pizza: when I lived in Bolivia and this past year+ for Paul. They were both worthy causes, and they were both joyous reunions!

If anyone is considering a restricted diet for breastfeeding purposes, You can do it! I didn't think I could either, but these precious little ones are worth it. Wanna know my secret to success: Private Selection's Raspberry Sorbet. Even if you're not dairy-free it may change your life like it did mine.

As far as weaning goes, I have no advice. I've heard so many people tell me that their kids just decided they didn't want to nurse anymore at 9, 12, or 15 months. Not so for us. That would have been easier, but what would really be ideal would be if baby and mama could just agree on a physical and emotional timeline and work together from there. 

Jon says these are my crazy eyes. Yeah, crazy for long-lost ice cream!

If you're wondering if this sweet boy will always be the odd one out in our family, we hope and pray not. Next month, we meet with our allergist again, and we hope he'll be outgrowing this and joining us in our dietary freedom soon. In the meantime, he's surviving on raspberry sorbet and all the hugs and kisses he can squeeze out of us.

As always, these trials have only given us more compassion for others in their allergy and breastfeeding journeys. Thank you, Lord, for helping us understand how others live.