We've been married for over twenty years now.
We have three children.
We have lived in the same house for 18 of those years.
We have celebrated multiple holidays, survived middle school ALMOST three times, and we are still standing as a couple.
**there are many other items in that list of what we've gone through and dealt with, but no one has time for that.
We have also had about 100 billion fights.
We are definitely not a couple that doesn't fight. Do those even exist? I feel like they are similar to unicorns if they do.
I can remember reading card after card after we got married that said the following words.
"Don't go to bed angry."
Ephesians 4:26-27 says
Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil.
While I MUST agree with what is written in the bible most of the time, we have found this not always to be true.
Actually, one of the things we've learned after all these precious years of marital bliss is that sometimes...you go to bed angry.
We have had to take a time out on our fights and just sleep on it in order to be able to see the other person's perspective with clarity and love. Whenever we fight, we seem to get stuck only seeing our point of view and it cripples our ability to come to a fair compromise.
So-we sleep.
We go against the advice of so many others in an attempt to find a resolution. In our younger days, we weren't always able to come to a close so quickly. As we've gotten older and have learned more about each other, we know that falling asleep back to back without a solution, does NOT equate not loving one another. We've both been in places where we wondered-is this it? Is this where I'll be for the rest of my life? Angry and sad? But, as we've matured, we realize that those feelings are normal. It is normal to be angry and sad when fighting with your spouse. Especially when you can't seem to come to a middle ground of understanding. It seems hopeless at times.
And then...we sleep.
When I wake up now, I see this man that I love. And not only that. I see someone who I respect. I respect his feelings, his opinions, and his character. I know his perspective comes from a place of good and I try with all that I can, to come up with words that will make him see what I see.
We have softer tones of voice. We have kinder eyes. We know that the love never left...even in the midst of our anger. And we can forgive. We both see our faults and know that somewhere in the middle of a discussion, we'll find a place where we can agree.
Sometimes you have to go to bed without a resolution to be able to wake up in the right frame of mind to be the spouse you know you can be.
The best advice we can give is to always remember who you married. When you return to truth and you go back to the person you know that you know...it is easy to see where they are coming from.
Lay your boxing gloves on the nightstand and see what tomorrow brings.
Referee of 3
Referee of 3
Saturday, February 2, 2019
Thursday, January 24, 2019
One Picture
It is amazing what you can remember by looking at one picture.
This picture has so many memories behind it and I don’t even know what to do with all of them when they come bubbling up out of me. When I look at this picture, I see the smile of my sweet little. He was nine at the time. He had grown his hair in an attempt to look like his seventeen-year-old and fifteen-year-old brothers, but bless...it did not work. His hair was long and shaggy and it took all that I could to not shave it off in his sleep. When he started playing basketball that year, he decided that his long hair was more of a pain than he thought and we made an appointment to cut it off. This picture was taken just after we finished with his haircut. I took it and sent it to his Dad, his Mimi, and his Nana. All the while, during this haircut and over the past few days, we’d been waiting for results of some pretty important tests. Our sweet Nana had fallen ill and no one knew what was wrong. Little did we know that just minutes after taking this picture, we’d get news that would change our lives forever.
When I think about the timing of it all, it almost takes me down.
The sadness that followed in the next few months is hard to talk about, understand, and explain. None of it makes any sense. And for those of us who were in the thick of it, we are still in shock over her loss. Again-none of it makes sense.
I’m not writing this to be sad. However, I do think writing (for me) is sometimes an expression of grief and it is important to get these things out there.
I’m writing this because when I see this picture, I remember so much. I remember the feelings. The looks on the faces of those I love the very most in this world as we tried to sort out the details of the news we had received. I remember the tears and the hugs that came with all of the questions and conversations. I remember her amazing faith. I could go into great detail, but this would never end.
On a daily basis, I lose my coffee cup at least six times. I forget my purse or my phone, or my workout bag, or my computer, every single time I leave the house. But this...this picture...and the events that followed, I remember without missing a beat.
There are many moments I wish I could forget.
But then I think about how much we’ve learned through all we’ve been through as a family. I think about the strength she left and that we gained because of her faith, her fight, and ultimately her healing.
I think about how much we love our family. I remember the words, the tears, the daily struggle during the four months we walked with her as she fought her cancer.
And then...I think about how much we all miss her. Her love. Her laugh. Her smile. Her kind eyes. Her helpfulness. Her attitude of service. Her friendship. Her guidance. Her lists. Oh, how she loved to write and check off every item on her list. They used to drive me crazy. Now what we wouldn’t give to hear one more of her lists.
I write this because two years ago, our lives changed in so many ways. No one asked us if we wanted to change. No one prepared us for what was to come next. I know some of you reading this understand this more than anyone ever wants to. I write this because we never know what tomorrow brings. This picture is a reminder to me to be in this moment and to not take anyone that I love for granted.
Nana would want us to remember the good and not the bad. Eventually, I think we will all be able to shake these awful memories of her illness. I also think she had to have a hand in this picture being the “one” that we remember. She happened to love this little freckle face.
A lot.
So many of us have lost someone we love. So many have been through traumatic situations that leave them with these memories and emotions. Maybe, we can all relate and use them for good. Life can be so hard to understand. But by being understanding, maybe we can make these roads a little smoother for those traveling them now.
This picture has so many memories behind it and I don’t even know what to do with all of them when they come bubbling up out of me. When I look at this picture, I see the smile of my sweet little. He was nine at the time. He had grown his hair in an attempt to look like his seventeen-year-old and fifteen-year-old brothers, but bless...it did not work. His hair was long and shaggy and it took all that I could to not shave it off in his sleep. When he started playing basketball that year, he decided that his long hair was more of a pain than he thought and we made an appointment to cut it off. This picture was taken just after we finished with his haircut. I took it and sent it to his Dad, his Mimi, and his Nana. All the while, during this haircut and over the past few days, we’d been waiting for results of some pretty important tests. Our sweet Nana had fallen ill and no one knew what was wrong. Little did we know that just minutes after taking this picture, we’d get news that would change our lives forever.
When I think about the timing of it all, it almost takes me down.
The sadness that followed in the next few months is hard to talk about, understand, and explain. None of it makes any sense. And for those of us who were in the thick of it, we are still in shock over her loss. Again-none of it makes sense.
I’m not writing this to be sad. However, I do think writing (for me) is sometimes an expression of grief and it is important to get these things out there.
I’m writing this because when I see this picture, I remember so much. I remember the feelings. The looks on the faces of those I love the very most in this world as we tried to sort out the details of the news we had received. I remember the tears and the hugs that came with all of the questions and conversations. I remember her amazing faith. I could go into great detail, but this would never end.
On a daily basis, I lose my coffee cup at least six times. I forget my purse or my phone, or my workout bag, or my computer, every single time I leave the house. But this...this picture...and the events that followed, I remember without missing a beat.
There are many moments I wish I could forget.
But then I think about how much we’ve learned through all we’ve been through as a family. I think about the strength she left and that we gained because of her faith, her fight, and ultimately her healing.
I think about how much we love our family. I remember the words, the tears, the daily struggle during the four months we walked with her as she fought her cancer.
And then...I think about how much we all miss her. Her love. Her laugh. Her smile. Her kind eyes. Her helpfulness. Her attitude of service. Her friendship. Her guidance. Her lists. Oh, how she loved to write and check off every item on her list. They used to drive me crazy. Now what we wouldn’t give to hear one more of her lists.
I write this because two years ago, our lives changed in so many ways. No one asked us if we wanted to change. No one prepared us for what was to come next. I know some of you reading this understand this more than anyone ever wants to. I write this because we never know what tomorrow brings. This picture is a reminder to me to be in this moment and to not take anyone that I love for granted.
Nana would want us to remember the good and not the bad. Eventually, I think we will all be able to shake these awful memories of her illness. I also think she had to have a hand in this picture being the “one” that we remember. She happened to love this little freckle face.
A lot.
So many of us have lost someone we love. So many have been through traumatic situations that leave them with these memories and emotions. Maybe, we can all relate and use them for good. Life can be so hard to understand. But by being understanding, maybe we can make these roads a little smoother for those traveling them now.
Tell people what they mean to you.
Do the things that make you happy.
Forgive those who have wronged you.
Apologize for hurting others.
Give the compliments.
Go the extra mile.
Work hard and love harder.
Referee of Three
Monday, December 31, 2018
New Year-Same Me
It is that glorious time of year when we wrap up whatever kind of year we've had and look forward to making changes in the new year to come. We have (well some of us) expectations we hope we can meet leading to the life we've always dreamed of living.
Instagram is a funny thing. If you don't want to really remember the goals you've set and NOT met...don't look at your Instagram account from the past. As much as we try to make it a highlight reel of our lives for others to ooh and ahh over...we know the truth. I know behind the beautiful smile of my freckle-faced boy was the angry attitude of "not another picture" and "are you going to post this?" I know the truth behind the first day of school pics where we are all scrambling to get out the door yelling unkind words to motivate everyone to the "spot" on the brick wall where we make life look easy. Others can look back through pictures and see the image we are trying to portray. NOT us though. We look and we know. We remember. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
So every year at this time, one of my Instagram photos is a cart full of healthy groceries. Fresh fruits and vegetables. Water, not pop. Organic granola. Coconut oil, not vegetable oil. (small changes my friends-small COMPLETELY UNREALISTIC changes) I know when I took that photo and posted it for all of my friends to see, my intent was to drastically change my body from it's current mom-bod shape to that of a 22 year old dance instructor with no children. Seems fairly logical, right?
Blasphemy.
Apparently, in order for those things to work, you have to be consistent and such. You know...keep at it. Add in exercise. Drink plenty of water. Eat no cookie dough.
Again-blasphemy.
So-after looking through my photos today during my personal year in review-I decided it was time to come up with a better way. Every year, I say...New Year, New Me.
The truth though-I have been working very hard to be what I am. Yes...I'm a mom. So the mom-bod is earned. Although, I decided almost two years ago to take a more healthy approach to change my body. So far-slowly, but surely...so good. So no need to go buy a basket full of fresh veggies to impress my Instagram followers. I'll buy veggies when I want to eat them. Not because I'm trying to be something tomorrow that I am not today.
I am also a teacher. I love what I do. I want to be a better teacher. Not a different one. Sometimes I think we focus so much on changing who we are, we forget the good parts. Not everything I do or all that I am needs to go away. I just need to make some "alterations" to the "me" that I am to improve what I have to offer my students. I love them with my whole heart. If I changed all of that, I don't know that I'd be that person for them anymore and THAT is why I became a teacher in the first place.
I am a wife. So many things have changed over the past five years for my husband and I. I love him now more than I ever thought possible. But If I became a new wife, I wouldn't be the person that knows what we've been through to get to this point. I wouldn't remember the good, the bad, and the ugly that made me be a better person to him than I've been in the past. I don't think he wants a new me...or a new wife, but I'll ask him just to make sure.
I am a mom. I love this part of my life, but let me tell you. This is the hardest job I'll ever EVER have. I don't want to be a new mom. I just want to be better in some aspects of my parenting. Who doesn't? If you just said-I don't-we will never be friends. Having a child move to college-break your heart leaving the place where you made them who they are-then return on Thanksgiving forgetting every rule you ever taught them about respect and consideration of others-then break your heart again leaving you again-then return at Christmas and again forget how to live appropriately under your roof (Lord child...who raised you?)-it's a tough pill to swallow. AND IT IS ONLY THE FIRST SEMESTER OF HIS FRESHMAN YEAR. What will become of us? And I have to do it again in one year with Middle. Little will never leave me because I'll smother him with love before we get to that point. He'll have to stay with me forever. End of story. And if you asked them, there are times when they'd definitely want a new mom. But I'm not going to become a new mom. I'm just going to be better in ways that we can all live with. (Insert cookie dough here)
I'm a writer. I LOVE to write. A dear friend reminded me of this just the other day and sitting down these past couple of days writing has been so refreshing for me. I want to be better. I want to be more intentional. I want to do it because it is a passion. But I don't want to change who I am or I wouldn't be typing these words today. I might try to become something I'm not and my writing wouldn't be mine anymore. I just want to improve some things about my writing. Not be a brand new writer.
I'm a Christian. This is probably my favorite thing that I am. And the beautiful part about being a Christian is that my God loves me no matter who I am. No matter how many times I fall or fail. NO matter what. He loves me for me. He doesn't want a new me. He loves me where I am. Every day. As a Christian, I don't want to be a new me. I want to be a better me. Because God made me this way. I'm his handiwork. His bible says so. How cool is that?
This year...make a goal to be YOU. You don't have to be a new person. Be the amazing...best version of the you that you can be. Make the changes that need to be made. Make the improvements for the better of you and your life. But-be you-because YOU ARE ENOUGH.
Happy New Year!!!
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Taking Down Christmas
It's been a little while since I've sat down to write anything. I would love to make excuses for why I haven't, but the truth is simply that I haven't taken the time. I love this time of year because it gives us the chance to reflect on the past. We can think about what we did well, what needs improvement, and where we want to go from here.
I've been avoiding taking down Christmas for days now. Because I'm a teacher and we have winter break, I reluctantly count down the days until we have to return to school. Not because I don't love what I do, but because I know that the largely unrealistic plans I made for my "winter break" won't be getting done. Part of the problem is that I set unrealistic expectations for myself. I do this on a daily basis, but anytime I have a break from school, I make a mental list of things I'd like to finish including changing the world and getting organized. At 41 years old, I still haven't mastered the art of being realistic. There's a really good chance that will never happen.
Anyway-back to Christmas-for days I've told myself to just get it done. I would promise myself a trip to Target and TJ Maxx as soon as I had my Christmas down. To be honest, I've never liked taking down the decorations from Christmas. Part of me knows with each item I take down and put away, that Christmas is truly over. The most wonderful, magical, warm, cozy, time of year is over. The music stops. The shopping is done. (Who am I kidding? That never stops for me.) The beautiful evenings by the Christmas tree watching Hallmark movies...all done. Finished. Just thinking about it makes me sad. But-it has to come to a close sometime. I tell my boys that at the end of every sports season when their tear-stained faces finally come out of the locker room to give hugs to friends and family. As hard as it is to swallow, eventually all good things come to an end. Christmas included.
I've also decided in the last year that I despise grocery shopping. Well...I did. Until I changed my mindset and made it something I enjoyed. I added a stop at Starbucks on the way to the store, found a way that best works for me and have made going to the store something I actually look forward to. Why did I include this tidbit of information? Stand by...
This morning when I finally rolled out of bed, I decided that I was going to change my attitude about taking down Christmas. I pulled up my hair, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I put in my wireless headphones and started a podcast that had my complete and total attention. I went to the storage room, opened the tubs where Christmas lives during the year, and faced this task with a positive mindset. I gathered the things from upstairs one at a time. I carefully looked at each item before laying it in my laundry basket (for carrying purposes) and thought about what it meant to me. Pictures...candles...stockings, ornaments, etc. One by one, I looked at my decor. I tried to remember where it came from or why I loved it. If I didn't love it, or it didn't mean something special, I put it in a pile to go elsewhere. I decided that I only want my memories to be part of my Christmas decor. This doesn't mean only sentimental items are my decorations. Most of my decor has a story, a laugh, a "meaning" behind it. I drank coffee, took my time, and remembered.
I took the basket downstairs and carefully put the items in their proper place. In years past, I've thrown things around and even broken things trying to just "get done". Not this year. I decided I was going to take my time and do it right. It's amazing how things go when you take your time and do them right instead of living by the motto of "done is better than perfect". For a long time, I actually believed those words to be true. I no longer think that way. If you are going to do something...do it to the best of your ability. Take pride in the little things...like taking down your Christmas.
As I ventured toward the tree, I took the ornaments off one by one. I sorted them into the boxes for each of my boys. I held them, looked at them, even cried at the realization that Big is 19 years old. His box is full of his memories. Ornaments that someday I'll give him and his wife to hang on their tree. Middle is right behind him. He has 17 years of memories in a box. A Nike shoe box from his childhood. Man...my momma heart. I was so gentle looking at his handmade ornaments and his baby series. Ugh. My heart. How can a heart be so full and so sad all at the same time? Well...this is just being a Momma. For real. With Little being 12 now, his box has a lot of memories as well. I look forward to filling his box over the next few years, but I don't want to rush it. I'm really glad I took the time to go through those memories today. I also got to put away our elf and our Santa key for next year. No matter how big they become, I'll always have the magic of their childhood in those two items. Today I am thankful for the eyes to see and the time to remember.
Finally, I took down our nativity. My beautiful nativity set is a memory I'll not soon forget. My sweet Mother in Law gave us that set piece by piece for several Christmases in a row. She was so excited to give it to us and I love how much meaning is behind it. Aside from the fact that it is a visual representation of why we actually celebrate Christmas, it came from her. It came from a woman who gave me my husband, who loved my children as her own, and who accepted me for who I am. She is greatly missed during the holidays, but I'm so thankful I took the time to sit and carefully wrap each piece of the nativity she gave to our family.
Taking down Christmas wasn't a task to check off my list. Well...it was when it started. Instead, it became a morning full of something so special. Remembering what we do, why we do it and looking forward to doing it again next year.
Bless-
Referee of 3
I've been avoiding taking down Christmas for days now. Because I'm a teacher and we have winter break, I reluctantly count down the days until we have to return to school. Not because I don't love what I do, but because I know that the largely unrealistic plans I made for my "winter break" won't be getting done. Part of the problem is that I set unrealistic expectations for myself. I do this on a daily basis, but anytime I have a break from school, I make a mental list of things I'd like to finish including changing the world and getting organized. At 41 years old, I still haven't mastered the art of being realistic. There's a really good chance that will never happen.
Anyway-back to Christmas-for days I've told myself to just get it done. I would promise myself a trip to Target and TJ Maxx as soon as I had my Christmas down. To be honest, I've never liked taking down the decorations from Christmas. Part of me knows with each item I take down and put away, that Christmas is truly over. The most wonderful, magical, warm, cozy, time of year is over. The music stops. The shopping is done. (Who am I kidding? That never stops for me.) The beautiful evenings by the Christmas tree watching Hallmark movies...all done. Finished. Just thinking about it makes me sad. But-it has to come to a close sometime. I tell my boys that at the end of every sports season when their tear-stained faces finally come out of the locker room to give hugs to friends and family. As hard as it is to swallow, eventually all good things come to an end. Christmas included.
I've also decided in the last year that I despise grocery shopping. Well...I did. Until I changed my mindset and made it something I enjoyed. I added a stop at Starbucks on the way to the store, found a way that best works for me and have made going to the store something I actually look forward to. Why did I include this tidbit of information? Stand by...
This morning when I finally rolled out of bed, I decided that I was going to change my attitude about taking down Christmas. I pulled up my hair, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I put in my wireless headphones and started a podcast that had my complete and total attention. I went to the storage room, opened the tubs where Christmas lives during the year, and faced this task with a positive mindset. I gathered the things from upstairs one at a time. I carefully looked at each item before laying it in my laundry basket (for carrying purposes) and thought about what it meant to me. Pictures...candles...stockings, ornaments, etc. One by one, I looked at my decor. I tried to remember where it came from or why I loved it. If I didn't love it, or it didn't mean something special, I put it in a pile to go elsewhere. I decided that I only want my memories to be part of my Christmas decor. This doesn't mean only sentimental items are my decorations. Most of my decor has a story, a laugh, a "meaning" behind it. I drank coffee, took my time, and remembered.
I took the basket downstairs and carefully put the items in their proper place. In years past, I've thrown things around and even broken things trying to just "get done". Not this year. I decided I was going to take my time and do it right. It's amazing how things go when you take your time and do them right instead of living by the motto of "done is better than perfect". For a long time, I actually believed those words to be true. I no longer think that way. If you are going to do something...do it to the best of your ability. Take pride in the little things...like taking down your Christmas.
As I ventured toward the tree, I took the ornaments off one by one. I sorted them into the boxes for each of my boys. I held them, looked at them, even cried at the realization that Big is 19 years old. His box is full of his memories. Ornaments that someday I'll give him and his wife to hang on their tree. Middle is right behind him. He has 17 years of memories in a box. A Nike shoe box from his childhood. Man...my momma heart. I was so gentle looking at his handmade ornaments and his baby series. Ugh. My heart. How can a heart be so full and so sad all at the same time? Well...this is just being a Momma. For real. With Little being 12 now, his box has a lot of memories as well. I look forward to filling his box over the next few years, but I don't want to rush it. I'm really glad I took the time to go through those memories today. I also got to put away our elf and our Santa key for next year. No matter how big they become, I'll always have the magic of their childhood in those two items. Today I am thankful for the eyes to see and the time to remember.
Finally, I took down our nativity. My beautiful nativity set is a memory I'll not soon forget. My sweet Mother in Law gave us that set piece by piece for several Christmases in a row. She was so excited to give it to us and I love how much meaning is behind it. Aside from the fact that it is a visual representation of why we actually celebrate Christmas, it came from her. It came from a woman who gave me my husband, who loved my children as her own, and who accepted me for who I am. She is greatly missed during the holidays, but I'm so thankful I took the time to sit and carefully wrap each piece of the nativity she gave to our family.
Taking down Christmas wasn't a task to check off my list. Well...it was when it started. Instead, it became a morning full of something so special. Remembering what we do, why we do it and looking forward to doing it again next year.
Bless-
Referee of 3
Sunday, May 6, 2018
Letting Go
When Big was little, from the moment he could and wanted to walk on his own, I held his hand. He would twist and turn trying to get away from me, but I kept a firm grip on his little fingers to ensure his safety. When he slipped away a couple of times, I panicked and ran after him to make sure nothing happened. When I got to him, I tried to explain the importance of always holding momma's hand. He would cry or giggle depending on how serious I was. In my mind, I was always VERY serious. Nothing is scarier than your little one getting away from the security of your grasp.
As we enter the beginning of Big's last week of high school, I can feel his fingers pulling away. I had intentionally avoided sitting down and giving this any thought. I did this because I knew the moment I did, I'd not recover. He played his last home baseball game last Thursday night and that was really tough on his Dad. He has been coaching him in sports since he was four years old. They've spent many hours practicing and learning together. Some good, some bad...but they've been together. As I watched the tears in Steve's eyes, I knew he'd allowed himself to go to a place where I would not go. The realization that our son has grown up and is moving in a direction of his life as an adult hit home. Baseball pun intended.
I honestly can't even picture him in my mind without his spikey hair and freckles. My head and my heart refuse to go to the place where he is independent and will be making decisions without my input.
We've spent our lives trying to make sure this child is safe from harm, away from trouble, and loved. We have tried with all of our might to teach him right from wrong. We've watched as he made good choices and bad. We've been there as he has suffered consequences and learned from his mistakes. We've watched as he celebrated in his successes and were his biggest fans in everything he has done.
I remember when he was old enough to walk on his own. It was shortly after Middle was born and we talked to him about how he needed to stay right with us. We told him we wouldn't hold his hand if we could trust him to not run and be safe. We taught him how to look for cars and trust our voices when we said stop. We prayed when he walked out the door that God would keep him safe. Every once in awhile, after a lost ballgame, I'd reach my hand back through the seat and he'd grab it. We'd hold hands and I'd squeeze his hand to let him know it was okay. Past that, we didn't really ever hold hands again.
I remember a sense of freedom with not having to hold onto my toddler anymore. He was "grown up" and he could walk with me instead of be attached to me. Our relationship changed from that moment and has been changing ever since.
Here we are-in his last week of school. We have to trust that the seeds we've planted in him will grow. We have to know that he will still be with us and will walk beside our family because we've instilled in him the importance of that very thing. We know that he will trust our voices and he'll come to us when in need.
The hardest job of parenting so far has not been the sleepless nights or the discipline. It hasn't been age 3, 11, or 13.
The hardest job is letting them go.
I'm excited to see how our relationship will change again. I know this is not the end, but the beginning of a whole new chapter in our lives. I trust that God will watch over him as he watches over us.
I'll still reach out to hold his hand every once in awhile, but for now I'll be content to let his hand be his own.
Prayers for all the parents out there who are letting go of their Seniors this week!
If you have a Senior and you are struggling with the emotions of letting go...punch in.
Have a blessed day-
Referee of Three
As we enter the beginning of Big's last week of high school, I can feel his fingers pulling away. I had intentionally avoided sitting down and giving this any thought. I did this because I knew the moment I did, I'd not recover. He played his last home baseball game last Thursday night and that was really tough on his Dad. He has been coaching him in sports since he was four years old. They've spent many hours practicing and learning together. Some good, some bad...but they've been together. As I watched the tears in Steve's eyes, I knew he'd allowed himself to go to a place where I would not go. The realization that our son has grown up and is moving in a direction of his life as an adult hit home. Baseball pun intended.
I honestly can't even picture him in my mind without his spikey hair and freckles. My head and my heart refuse to go to the place where he is independent and will be making decisions without my input.
We've spent our lives trying to make sure this child is safe from harm, away from trouble, and loved. We have tried with all of our might to teach him right from wrong. We've watched as he made good choices and bad. We've been there as he has suffered consequences and learned from his mistakes. We've watched as he celebrated in his successes and were his biggest fans in everything he has done.
I remember when he was old enough to walk on his own. It was shortly after Middle was born and we talked to him about how he needed to stay right with us. We told him we wouldn't hold his hand if we could trust him to not run and be safe. We taught him how to look for cars and trust our voices when we said stop. We prayed when he walked out the door that God would keep him safe. Every once in awhile, after a lost ballgame, I'd reach my hand back through the seat and he'd grab it. We'd hold hands and I'd squeeze his hand to let him know it was okay. Past that, we didn't really ever hold hands again.
I remember a sense of freedom with not having to hold onto my toddler anymore. He was "grown up" and he could walk with me instead of be attached to me. Our relationship changed from that moment and has been changing ever since.
Here we are-in his last week of school. We have to trust that the seeds we've planted in him will grow. We have to know that he will still be with us and will walk beside our family because we've instilled in him the importance of that very thing. We know that he will trust our voices and he'll come to us when in need.
The hardest job of parenting so far has not been the sleepless nights or the discipline. It hasn't been age 3, 11, or 13.
The hardest job is letting them go.
I'm excited to see how our relationship will change again. I know this is not the end, but the beginning of a whole new chapter in our lives. I trust that God will watch over him as he watches over us.
I'll still reach out to hold his hand every once in awhile, but for now I'll be content to let his hand be his own.
Prayers for all the parents out there who are letting go of their Seniors this week!
If you have a Senior and you are struggling with the emotions of letting go...punch in.
Have a blessed day-
Referee of Three
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Dear Mom of Little Ones
Warning.
Sappy Mom post.
If you are emotionally unstable, you should turn back now.
If you are still with me, let us carry on.
I don't remember a lot about when my boys were little. It seems like a huge blur at times. We were so busy and I remember it being physically and mentally exhausting to do anything other than stay at home. If you had a successful bedtime routine, you were really it. You had it all figured out. I rarely had that moment of satisfaction as they got out of bed at least 57 times a night before finally falling asleep. THAT...I remember.
Lord have mercy.
I also remember seeing older women...who now that I'm forty seem "younger" as I look back...staring lovingly at my children. They would be the kind that would stop and watch as my three year old spilled an entire candy cane shaped container of M & M's on the floor of Target. (That is a sound you don't forget.) They would stand and watch and you'd catch their eye in your moment of complete and total embarrassment and they'd smile.
They must think I've got this all together...I thought. Or...they must really like the way I handled myself in that moment. (Insert giant pat on back for being overly confident in my mothering skills)
I always gave myself credit for their loving glances in the direction of my fighting two and four year old, or at our attempt at a family dinner "out" with a baby, five and seven year old.
Bless.
We'd make a scene wherever we went and it always seemed like one of these "young" ladies would be there...smiling...watching...and what I assumed-approving of my life.
As my children are nearing the "grown" stage, I find myself stopping and staring at mothers with young kids. Especially little boys. With Big being 18 and leaving for college soon, and Middle being 16 and not far behind in the "leaving me" portion of life, I'm starting to straight up panic.
How in the world are my babies 16 and 18? How in the world am I 40? When did my actual baby of the family become 11? Why don't I carry a diaper bag anymore? Why don't we have to pay babysitters anymore when we go out? WHY DON'T THEY WANT A KIDS MENU?
Pause.
I know God didn't make my children grow up as a horrible punishment. I know he didn't do this to hurt me. So why does their growing up hurt me so much? I'm 20% happy that Big is independent and seems excited about going away to school. I'm 80% completely freaked out that I haven't done my job and that I didn't get enough time with him. I can actually feel myself smothering him when he is in the room. I can't help it! I want to count his freckles every single day.
And here is the worst part. The other day, I stepped out onto my deck to let my dogs out and there were two little boys playing in the yard behind ours. I just stood there...smiling. Watching. The way those "young" women used to do.
WHAT IN THE WORLD.
I'm them because I miss my littles and I love to remember my time with them in the moments of other Moms. Not because I think they have their life together, but because I am remembering all the times I've forgotten about. And as I watched that Mom and those little ones, I prayed for her. I prayed for her to be in the moment and to see what an amazing thing she was doing with them right then and there. I prayed for her heart as they grow. I prayed that she would see her self worth and the job she's done with those kids so far and to come.
I want my babies back. I want my minivan back. I want to carry a ridiculously obscene Winnie the Pooh denim diaper bag EVERYWHERE I go.
But life doesn't work like that. Oddly enough...we don't have anything figured out until we aren't in that moment any longer. We don't truly understand what it means until it is over.
Those of you who have experienced this and are semi-rolling your eyes at me...it's okay. I'm not mad. I get it. And eventually I'll look back on this and want to slap myself. Those moments happen often in this life.
When I cut my own bangs...wet.
When I wore the one piece clown looking outfit and it fell in the toilet.
When I decided blue mascara was a good look for me.
You get it.
I know life moves on and the best is yet to come and yada yada yada.
What I don't know is how to handle this stage of life. So... we take it one day at a time. We trust God with the lives of our children...that are his first. We pray, eat an occasional tub of cookie dough (don't judge) and we rely on the experience and knowledge of the smiling, praying women in our lives.
Maybe their strength and prayer is what truly gets us through the cookie dough closet floor moments of our lives.
Here's to being that woman for others. <3
Day by day.
Referee of 3
Saturday, December 23, 2017
Year in Review
So-without further adieu, Life Lessons of 2017.
1. I like being organized. Who knew? I don't always have the time or "take the time" to get that way, but when I do, I am happy. I feel calm when I know where things are. I don't know why it has taken me so long to figure this out, but I like it. 2017 was the year of getting organized. 2018 is going to be the year of staying that way. Cheers. :)
2. Having a Senior in high school is hard. It is emotionally exhausting. Not to mention the financial part. I'm so excited for what Big has coming his way, but I'm terrified that we've not prepared him enough. I think (THINK) most parents feel this way when they are looking this part of life in the face, but it doesn't make it any easier. I'm happy, then I'm sad. He's ready, then he isn't. I keep reading books and talking to friends who've been through this, but like anything else...you have to experience it to know. I'm constantly conflicted. Which means I'm ALWAYS eating something to cope. Yeeeeeeiiiiiikes.
3. I actually like to cook. I'm not great at it, but I like it. I'm working on the "getting better at it" part. Stay tuned.
4. I've learned the fine art of not comparing myself to others. For years, I've had this bitter, ugly side that I carried around with me. Always being jealous of what others had or of how they did things differently. It was ugly and I'm not proud of it. But somehow this year...I've found a way to overcome that. And it is wonderful. My sister has always told me that comparison is the thief of joy. As it turns out, she was right. I have found an amazing sense of peace in being content with my life, my home, my things, etc. All this time, I've carried this weight of wanting more when all I've ever needed is right here with me. Don't get me wrong...I still want things. I just don't want what other people have. I want what makes me happy and that isn't the life of others. It's the life I'm living.
5. I love Zumba. More than loving Zumba, I love sharing it with others. PLUS...Zumba allows me to continue coping with life's changes by eating food! I can eat, cope, and dance it all away. Ish. If you haven't found your favorite exercise, I challenge you to do it in 2018. Walking, running, weight training, yoga, Zumba, etc. Do it for you...and for the secret cookie dough you eat in your closet. You don't want to give that up...am I right?
6. I've learned that having boys isn't all bad. It's actually pretty cool and I'm learning to love every minute of it. Yes-our house smells like socks sometimes. Yes-they are less than great shoppers. No-they don't love to help with household chores. But...they do love their Momma. They help me when I make them. They are very low maintenance. They don't require a lot other than food, soap, deodorant, food, and food. I don't get to go dress shopping with them, but they allow me to hang with the girlfriends sometimes and that is pretty cool too.
7. Two year old lab puppies aren't much better than one year old lab puppies. I don't have a single EOS that hasn't been chewed on. I use them anyway in hopes that eventually she'll sleep instead of chew.
8. Learning to bake with my Granny was one of the highlights of my year. Spending time with her in a way that taught me more than just how to make a fluffy meringue was worth more than any dollar amount in the world. I'm so thankful for the moments over the years where we've been able to talk and for all that she has taught me about her quiet strength, her kindness, and her amazing ability to bake.
9. People are important and deserve to know their worth. Family is the most important thing in the world. Followed closely by friends. Knowing others and loving them is one of the most amazing gifts we've been given on earth and this year has made that abundantly clear. Losing our Nana has taught me the importance of showing people their worth. We don't know what tomorrow brings and I have learned the importance of showing and receiving love. We aren't perfect and life gets in the way sometimes, but it is important to tell people how you feel. Don't wait-share your love with others every day.
10. Life is full of surprises. Some good. Some terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad. We have to get through them all. Some we celebrate. Some we curse. I (at 40) don't always know how to handle the surprises life holds. Death is an awful part of life. Missing someone after a death is one of the most painful things I've ever felt. Watching the ones I love feel that pain is also a horrible feeling. What I have learned is that there is as much joy in loving people in the here and now as there is sadness when they are gone. We loved our Nana with all of our hearts. We miss her every single day. But because of her, we love others with all of our hearts. To love someone the way we miss her is what God intends. He didn't promise us a life without pain. He did however teach us to love as he loves us. We hurt and have joy with such an intensity that sometimes it is hard to breathe. But I don't want life any other way.
To love someone so much it hurts and brings joy- that is living.
2017 has not been our favorite year. We lived, learned, loved, and lost. But we've gained so much and have more to be thankful for than I could ever list on a blog.
Merry Christmas to you and yours. Hug them tight. Love them hard. To those who have held us up when we were falling, Thank You. We are blessed to love you and be loved by you.
Here's to 2018!
Referee of 3
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