And so.

I begin again.  Without knowing where to begin.  Without knowing how.  I need to, despite.

Despite all that has kept me from opening up and out, I begin again. Despite all of the things in the past two years that have arrested my heart from writing freely-- the good that has been too good to express with enough color and the hard that has felt all too paralyzing to write through.  I must...despite.  And so...

And so this start might be my simple justification. Of my absence:  from writing, from sharing, from engaging in anything beyond soccer cleats, superhero capes and polka dotted skirts.  But to begin again, I am compelled to grieve some of what has been lost. And smile on some of what hasn't yet been celebrated in writing.  So that...

So that I can begin again.  Maybe newer.  Maybe fuller.  Wiser?  That feels like a stretch.  I'm not sure.

Jonathan and I have looked back at all that has been packed into two years.  All.  Packed.  In.  We have laughed hard at the good.  We have almost burst at what feels beyond rich in our lives.  Three of the most beautiful and amazing darned kids on this earth.  That's what they are.  I don't know why we get to be their parents.  But I'm so thankful.  We are so thankful.

Maria's advent into our life completed our home.  Really that's how it feels.  She came in like God's grace snowing down on us (and sometimes sheets of hail and wind with the sass of a pounding rain).  And this child...this child.  She is breathtaking.  She is breathtaking alone and all on her own.  The kind of beautiful that you stare and shake your head at.  Because she actually sparkles.  No lie.  Her smile, laugh and voice actually sparkle.  But what's so much more is how she fits into what we already had.  She's not a complement to it.  That makes her sound somewhat insignificant. Like sprinkles on a delicious cake.  She is a true piece of it we didn't know we needed.  That we didn't realize would be so completing.  And so...

And so her brothers continue to make me marvel.  The term 'child development' sounds so... otherly. So outside of what I'm watching when I'm watching my child, my children "develop".  Watching my children grow and learn and feel and hurt and ask and need and wonder and fear and delight.  All of these developments become more intense as my boys get older and so I feel more intense about them.  More intense around them.  The notes I send in their lunches are painfully thought out and re-written as I hope they read my love in them and not just the words.  The time I spend volunteering in Sam's classroom likely looks desperate and pathetic as I stare at him while I work with his other classmates.  The naps I steal with Ben some weekdays are totally selfish and again...pathetic as I anticipate him being in full day school next year. Because this is all happening so fast.  It's just so fast for me.  And so...

And so just those three and the immeasurable joy and awe that they bring are enough to make me feel too overwhelmed to express fully.  But there's more.  Because our lives are filled with other kids too.  Kids who fill our house every Sunday night to look deeper into who our God is and who they are as they prepare to leave for college this fall. Kids who allow us to be a part of their lives.  Kids who have way more on their plates than we did when we were their age and yet they still find time to pause with us and look at life together.  They still have time to grab coffee, a walk or frozen yogurt with us.  And in this, we are blessed richly.  And so...

And so what is all of this if I don't have someone to share it with?  But I do.  I do.  I have no idea why our love comes so easily to us.  But it does and it has and we'll fight like hell for it if there is ever a time that it doesn't.  Because there is no earthly love so safe in my life than the love I have with Jonathan.  There is no place like the home we are to each other and I don't have a home outside of him.  I don't want a home outside of him.  And so...

And so our past two years have been rich.  I use that word a lot I know.  But I really love it. Because it doesn't mean that it's been perfect.  It means 'abundant', 'highly valuable', 'deep in color'.
Deep in color.  Oh deep in color.

So much color comes from the discomfort we experience.  Yes, here it comes people.  The laundry list of woes and "Are you kidding me?" moments that have peppered our life since Maria was born.

That sweet girl's first year was filled with the pediatrician, emergency room, urgent care, etc.  Scars on her gorgeous, baby forehead, chronic ear infections and ear tubes are some of the reasons health insurance should be one of Martha Stewart's "Good Things."
Her brothers added an adorable pair of green glasses, a case of Mono and a tonsillectomy to the medical bills... and that should have been enough.  A diagnosis of Celiac disease was my contribution to the withdrawal of our health savings account.  Of course that carries with it the coinciding tidings that I can never eat anything containing gluten again.  Ever. Ever, ever.  Like...ever.  Again.  Happy Thanksgiving.  And happy grocery shopping.  And budgeting.  And learning how to cook.

Oh and our roommate/friend/brother wasn't exempt from our medical ventures as his lung randomly collapsed last fall as well.  He spent a good five days in the hospital recovering and earned the award for most dramatic ailment of the family.  Absurd right?

In February after these hurdles, we headed to Hawaii to restart and breathe. I realized almost immediately that I had put way too much stock into this trip.  I had seen it as a way to just...begin again. Start fresh. Sadly, there is nothing fresh about five people with the stomach flu in a one bedroom condo. Yes.  We all got the stomach flu.  And we kept it.  We fought it the majority of our trip and when all was said and done, we had 2 amazing days at the beach out of 10 days in Hawaii.  This is when I started getting angry.  And so...

And so that's actually not true.  That's just not true.  I was angry before we left.
Because these are just the hiccups we look back on and now simply laugh about.  Because these trials are so incredibly absurd... but they just happen.  You want someone to blame.  You want to put your finger on what in the heck we have done wrong...but there isn't anything.  So you laugh.  A maniacal kind of laugh maybe. But a laugh nonetheless.  Eventually.

I was already angry though because there are some spaces where laughter has no place.  The kind of spaces in your heart that steal your sleep and consume your moments of quiet.  The spaces that force you to fight what you know you know in an effort to just have peace.  For a moment.  There are spaces that are so precious to you that when evil has darkened even a corner of that space, there is no peace found inside. What is left, I'm embarrassed to say, is anger.  And so...

And so I was already angry.  I was angry as I grasped the details of a tragedy that shouldn't have been.  It shouldn't have been.  Angry and desperate as I watched the fall-out... so warped and sick that I've often pictured the glory some twisted author could make for themselves with this unimaginable and yet very real story.

I was angry to watch people feel betrayed in their hope and turn away from each other.  Angry to watch heartache from the edge of the woods in the lives of people I love... and to feel alone in that.  To feel hopeless in that.  To feel pitifully hopeless while claiming a Hope and Power that I still believe regardless. Angry at those who delight in the demise of love and life... for their own gain.  And to see them succeed.  To see them succeed!  And so...

And so I now know that my silence is not just because I have three kids now, an admittedly larger portion than I imagined.  But because joy in my immediate circumstances has been shadowed by a struggle of real, uncomfortable anger and despair in my surroundings.  The two have left me at a loss for how to write joyfully...with integrity.  Without betraying the honest pain and disappointment that hasn't yet, and likely never will be reconciled.  A pain that I'm embarrassed to admit, has overwhelmed me and stolen some of my joy at times. Stolen my attention.  Stolen my peace.  And yes that's embarrassing to me.  And so...

And so I begin again.  Without knowing where to begin.  Without knowing how.  I need to.

Maybe newer.  Maybe fuller.  Wiser still feels like a stretch.

Scattered

Oh it feels good to kiss her ears.  That diaper pail stinks.  Will his cough ever go away?  She is such a beautiful baby.  When did I feed her last?  I'm hungry.  Did I lock the front door?  I love how well they play together.  Didn't I open a Diet Coke?  Just fall asleep child.  How long has it been since I clipped his toe-nails?  Oh my gosh his ears are so dirty!  Do we still have a cat?  Yes...we do.  Does Ben seem lost?  I need to snuggle him more.  My windows are so dirty I want to throw a brick through them.  She's awake again.  Oh shoot I haven't written that Thank You note.  Or sent that check.  That's... puke in my hair.  I need to call my sister.  I'm a bad sister.  Did I put nursing pads in before I left?  Her eyes sparkle.  Geeze he feels heavy today!  I need to wipe his face.  Oooh when I sit this way I can feel my jelly roll.  Don't sit that way Beck.  Have they watched any t.v. yet today?  Those hiccups sound like they hurt.  Sam is so darn sweet with her.  How can buns so little pack such a punch??  When did I nurse her last?  What is so sticky on the floor?  Why can't they just get along?!  I'm hungry.  I need to eat something.  Shoot!  I never got back to her.  I'm a bad friend.  I wish I could take a nap.  Do they know how much I love them?I think this is one of those things that causes cancer.  I'll fold that laundry tonight after they go to bed.  Jonathan will help.  Why is he so sassy lately?  I'm not reading to the boys enough.  Sam's birthday is coming up and I'm not ready.  Six more hours until J gets home.  Wow, I just totally overreacted.  How old am I?  Please God make her sleep longer than 10 minutes.  I think I've worn these pants every day this week.  I'm going to bed at eight tonight no matter what.  I need to remember to empty that diaper pail. I think my thighs might be rubbing together.  I'm going to excercise somehow tomorrow.  These poor boys have seen more boob than Hugh Hefner on his best day.  There's my coffee cup!  She's been sleeping a long time.  I need to check if she's breathing.  Ben is so cute when he skips.  Like a little Leprechan.  Three more hours til J gets home.  What in the heck is so sticky on the floor??!  Hopefully the boys never ask where that went.  I'll lie.  Oh great, now his cough is back.  She must be hungry.  I wonder what he's thinking right now.  What day is it?  Her smile is amazing.  I think she's prettier today than yesterday.  Please don't puke.  Please don't puke.  Please don't puke.  Really??!!!  Oh isn't that nice?  The neighbor's cleaning lady just showed up.  What I wouldn't do...  Where did he hear THAT word?  I'm so tired.  When did I talk to my dad last?  I'm a bad daughter.  Did I really just tell Ben that he needs to grow up?  Good Lord I'm starving!  You'd never know I just swept this morning.  Does he have show and tell tomorrow?  That kid is smarter than me.  Oh my gosh that smells bad!  Did I brush my teeth this morning?  I hope Jonathan's day is going well.  I should have followed through on that one.  A Butterfinger sounds good.  I wonder if I'm going to need to buy a different swim suit this summer.  I should try mine on.  No.  I'm not going to do that.  Oh her yawn is so precious.  What am I going to do for dinner?  Oh my gosh I've got to mop this floor.  He's going to no-nap me today isn't he?  What was that sound?  I hope everything is alright up there.  Nobody's crying.  I need to sit up straighter.  Good thing Jonathan is so patient.  I hope they love her this much for the rest of her life.  Is she going to have brown or blue eyes?  Crap.  Ben's crying.  His voice is so cute.  If one more person asks how I'm sleeping...  Pretty sure he just coughed into the back of my throat.  One more hour til Jonathan comes home.  That bread is really dry no wonder they didn't eat their sandwiches.  Did we pay the preschool?  Her sneeze is adorable.  I hope our neighbors didn't just see that.  Poor them.  I have GOT to eat something before I hurt someone!  I still haven't made that dentist appointment.  I wonder if he's ready for me to wipe him yet.  We need to go on a date.  That doesn't look right.    I think that's the most annoying sound I've ever heard.  Oh yeah, dinner.  Shoot. 

"Girls are Bleh!"

Last month a story came out about a couple who refuses to share the gender of their 4-month-old baby with anyone.  That's right.  Even the grandparents don't know if they have a granddaughter or grandson.  The child's name is ambiguous (Storm) as well as their first two children's names and they have chosen to let the child decide for itself what gender it is.  They are leaving everyone in the dark with the hopes that their child will be spared the messages that place him or her into gender specific boxes.  They said "parents make so many choices for their children.  It's obnoxious."  http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_thelookout/20110524/ts_yblog_thelookout/parents-keep-childs-gender-under-wraps
I love stories that make me laugh out loud.  The idea that I am making the choice for my boys to actually be and act like boys is totally hilarious to me.

Earlier this week our morning devotional was about God providing everything that we need.  To expand on the topic I asked the boys what we have and enjoy that we don't particularly need. 
Here is the conversation that followed:
Sam:  "Toys."
Me:  "Yep, we don't need toys but we still have them and get to enjoy them.  What else do we have that we don't really need?" 
Sam w/ a silly little grin:  "Penises."
Me:  "Hmm...I'm pretty sure you need your penis Sam."
Sam:  "But you don't need one."
Me:  "Yeah, but I have what I do need.  I just don't have a penis."
Sam in a neener-neener voice: "Yeah, boys have more than girls!"
And...there ends our time of reflection.

Whenever possible, they choose to pee outside.

This is every day.  I don't know where it came from, but the boys have decided that all things "girl" are lame, dumb, ridiculous and shameful.  They are even adamant that the baby growing inside of me is a boy.  The root of this insistence?  Sam practically spat out at me, "We do NOT want girl toys in this house!  Especially a DOLL HOUSE!  I do NOT want one of those here!"  Of course Ben follows everything that Sam says up with agreement, "Yeah, no doll house!"

They hate pink, anything with pink on it, any character in a book or on a program that wears pink.  If you want immediate dismissal, tell them you like pink.  You'll be out and probably laughed at. 
They call each other "princesses" as an insult (although...I get that one.)
Ben saw Dora the other day in Target and said, "OH Dora!  I don't like Dora!  She's a girl!" 
Sam constantly calls things "girly" as a put down.
He has also successfully taught his sweet, innocent, mother-lovin' brother to respond, "Girls are bleh!" whenever the topic comes up. 

Here's the thing... they don't dislike girls.  Their two closest friends are girls of course.  But they have been clear to me that they would prefer to have those friends come to our house so that they don't have to play with "their girl stuff".  Of course once we are actually in their house, those girls own them and they'll do whatever they tell them to do.

Here's another thing... I am confident that this new phase has not come from Jonathan and me.  In fact we have challenged it thoughtfully with questions and reminders of truth.  Jonathan and I share responsibilities pretty evenly in our home.  I'd say more evenly than a lot of people we know.  And we speak highly of each other to our boys.  There are never put downs or generalizations made of each other.  Ever.   Regardless of our efforts to communicate true, healthy, balanced messages about men and women in our world, my boys are "typical boys".  Yep, they fit right into the boy box the parents previously mentioned are dreading for their child. 

Last summer.

We named them Samuel and Benjamin.  Strong, male names.  We told people they were born with penises right away.  I didn't dress them in yellow every day.  You could say that I "chose their gender for them".  But I also learned about trains, trucks, and football because that's what they are interested in. Not because I wanted them to be.  I didn't even know who Thomas was before Sam practically had seizures over him in a book.  We got Sam a baby doll when we were expecting Ben and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it no matter how hard I tried to make him love it. 

Now what this doesn't mean is that they are insensitive, violent, aggressive little tyrants running around without feelings or compassion.  Although my boys have no use for a baby doll, if there is a real baby in the room, grab your camera.  They melt.  They kiss and love and talk sweet just as they should.  For example, their newest cousin was born a week ago to their Auntie Nellie and Uncle Aaron.  As you can see, they are in love with "Baby Andrew".


 


 



If there is a toy kitchen in the room, just sit down and let them bring you all of their creations.  They are going to be awesome and inventive cooks just like their Dad.  If they get a bonked head or hurt feelings, let me just get back to you in a bit because they don't "act tough" and I'll be comforting them and kissing on them until we're back to good. 

Despite their recent opinion that anything "girlie" is of-the-devil, I refuse to believe that we have confined them to a strict, role determining system of beliefs about themselves purely because we announced their sex at birth.  I am not thrilled with this current disgust of pink and girls but I'm confident that we'll get through it without neanderthals for sons.  They are who they are because they were born that way and I'm doing my best to learn about what they love so that I can keep up. 

Oh and this just in: Last night at dinner with their two best friends present (both girls), Ben announced that he might like pink now.  See?  It won't be us that influences their opinions.

Becoming Real

When we were expecting with Samuel we were in love with this quote from The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams:

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse.  "It's a thing that happens to you.  When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real." 
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful.  "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"Real...doesn't happen all at once, " said the Skin Horse.  "You become.  It takes a long time.  That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.  Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

We were so enamored by this quote that we had a very talented friend paint this scene for our nursery.  It was also read at Sam's baby dedication that we hosted in our back yard. 

Our hopes for our children involve big things.  We hope for them to be genuine people who love with wild abandon.  We hope for them to be brave in matters that bring life and truth to their lives and to this world.  We hope that they will have authentic personal faith that has been tried and found true in their own lives and not just in ours.  We hope that they will teach us as they explore and grow and believe. 

We hope for big things.  As we hope, we realize that if just one of these dreams becomes true for our children, some degree of suffering will very well be a part of their lives as well. 

So this quote was very romantic to us as we were expecting our first and even shortly after he was born.  We thought we were so wise and discerning to have arrived at the idea that our children will endure trials and sometimes suffering in order to someday be strong and genuine individuals.  We prayed that we would have the wisdom and self-restraint to allow them their struggles rather than to swoop in and rescue them at every turn.  We knew so well back then that for them to become Real, they would have a long road ahead of them.  We were honored to get to walk their roads along side of them but not for them. 

Then they started growing...
Not very long ago, Sam confided in me a feeling he had of being excluded by a friend.  It wasn't a huge deal, but something that left him with pretty hurt feelings.  I thought I might crack and shatter the way a window does when hit by a small object.  Hearing from him about how it made him feel felt like someone was squeezing my heart through their fingers.  Our conversation was absolutely precious to me.  It really was.  I did everything I thought John Gottman of Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child would want me to do.   I listened.  We snuggled.  I affirmed his feelings.  We talked about what he might want to do if he feels like that again.  It was a great connecting moment.  But oh my heart hurt.  I want to protect him from these days.  I picture myself covering him with one arm while I carry him through the gauntlet of boyhood with the other.  

Becoming Real.  We believe the description in the story with all of our hearts.  Becoming Real means that our hair isn't always going to be cute.  We might come out pretty shabby and loose in the joints.  It will hurt.  People who don't understand might find us ugly.  I can handle all of this for myself.  Let's just be honest, "shabby" at least rhymes with the word I frequently use for myself!  But it is another undertaking altogether as we fling our children out into the world to become Real.  It hurts us worse!  If I were to describe the fears I wrestle with for my boys I'd be committed to a hospital. 

BUT!  At the end of the day, I desperately want my boys to become Real.  I do call it an honor to be the woman behind them as they encounter suffering on the road to Real.  I welcome the conversations someday that will take all of my power not to lead but to listen as they share with me their latest take on the world.  I pray for discernment as they grow into childhood issues that we did not have as children before cell phones, YouTube or Red Bull!  I hope for them to look back and feel that their hearts have been encouraged by their parents and not defined. 

Pray for us!  Oh please pray for us! 

All of this reflection comes from a funny little thing that happened last week.  Ben carries around a friend named "Bunny".  He goes everywhere w/ Ben.  Bunny has all of our hearts.  He's precious.  Well last week while staying at the Grandparents' house, Bunny got his ear and tail chewed off by a puppy.  Hearing about it over the phone from the boys was traumatic... for me.  How could Ben not have his Bunny anymore?  It was replaced by a BLUE BUNNY???  You can't just replace Bunny! 
Well, it was a great lesson for me.  One of the first things Ben told me was that he didn't cry about it.  I got control of myself, wiped my face and told Ben how glad I was that he was okay about it.  Then he told me that he still has Bunny but that he just has a new bunny too.  Fine.  Whatever.

Well Gramma sewed Bunny's head up without his ear and his butt up without his tail and he is a sight to see.  But guess what.  He's Real.  Ben still carries him everywhere he goes, sleeps with him every night and loves on him like he's the most beautiful bunny he's ever seen.  He's shabby to say the least.  He's been hurt.  He might be ugly to people who don't understand.  But he's Real to us.  And we're so thankful to have him as part of our family.