Out of the mouths of babes

Here's the thing.  I am a Christian.  But I cannot claim that I am a very good Christian.  

I can honestly say that I pray every day.  Every night before I go to bed, I talk to God about my family and ask for help raising my kids, etc.  I make sure to say a prayer of thanks quite often.  Sometimes for a specific thing that happens.  Sometimes just because I am so thankful for my life and the way it has turned out.  I seek God in times of trial and heartache.  Sometimes I even just chit chat with God about things I'm puzzling out in my life as I drive down the road.

I have no trouble talking to people about my beliefs.  I never seek to hide those beliefs.  If someone has questions, I take what I know and do my very best to explain things the way they have been explained to me.  

I do not attend church.  I have my reasons, and I do miss a lot about it all the time.  Jimmy and I have had lengthy discussions about getting back into church and what kind of church we'd like to attend.  

It weighs heavily on me that I haven't had my kids in church from jump.  It is my responsibility to introduce them to some sort of faith.  What they choose to believe as adults is just that - their choice.  But I am supposed to plant the seed for them to embark on that journey for themselves.  

I honestly cannot say that I believe everything the church believes.  Not any church I have ever attended.  Sometimes I just flat out disagree with things said from the pulpit.  However, I do believe quite a lot of it, and I want my children exposed to those facets of my beliefs.  Again, they have to make up their own minds about what makes sense to them as far as a "religion" later in life.

While I cannot say I've done a very good job of imparting these beliefs to my kids (well, Silas, really), that is not to say they know absolutely nothing.  Silas and I have had talks about God.  I have read to him from children's bibles and prayer books.  He's seen a million Veggietales.  So, he's had some exposure.  Just not consistent exposure.  And that does bother me.

So, with all that said, it made me very happy to learn that Silas' preschool is a Christian preschool.  It was explained to me that they teach the kids the basic stories from the Bible (I'm assuming Noah and the ark, Daniel and the lions den, David and Goliath, etc.).  They have a chapel service on Wednesdays.  There are bible verses all over the school.  And, apparently, they pray at mealtime.  

Last night, Jimmy and I made dinner, and I made Silas a plate.  I sat it at his table and was finishing making my own.  I heard Silas pipe up, "hands together, pray" and he began to try to say the prayer they say before meals at school.

Jimmy and I looked at each other and were both grinning from ear to ear.

I asked, "Silas, do you want us all to pray?"  He nodded his head and smiled.

Jimmy and I put our hands together, bowed our heads, and closed our eyes, and I told Silas to go ahead.  He tried a couple of times and then looked at me lost.  He didn't quite know all the words to the prayer yet, but he knew enough of it for me to figure out that it was the exact same prayer I said before every meal as a child.  

It was such an amazing moment for him to have initiated this for our family.  I wanted him to see that 1) it is important to us because it is important to him and 2) I am always there to support him and help him in his spiritual journey with the knowledge that I do have.

So, I asked, "Silas, do you want mommy to say the prayer and then you can tell me if it is the same one you say at school?"  Again, he smiled and nodded.

So, I said the prayer (stumbling a little myself) and then asked if I did it right when we were done.  I had done it right.  The smile on his face was priceless, and the whole exchange made me incredibly proud of him.

Something I should have taught him a long time ago, he brought home himself and made a new part of our dinner routine.  

So, while preschool is still tough in the mornings, and I originally enrolled him in it to prepare him for kindergarten, it is paying off in a much more important way.  It is making the very basic elements of Christianity a part of his life, and thereby, reminding me that I need to be reinforcing them at home.

For that, I said a prayer of thanks.

No more with the Facebook rants

You guys, I promise I understand that my leaving Facebook has disconnected me from the world.  I really do.  I've missed party invites, pictures, and great stories from my friends and family.  I know it makes it harder to maintain contact with me.  I swear that I get it.  And I'm sorry about that.  Truly I am.  

But, you know, decision made.  Firmly made.  Mind not changing.

You have to know that Facebook was the means to a whole lot of drama, heartache, and destruction in my life.  No, I am not naive enough to think that something similar would not have happened had Facebook never been invented.  I understand that people are going to do what they are going to do regardless of the means they have to do it.  Facebook just makes it a whole lot more convenient.

And, yes, I've heard the "well, only be friends with people you want to be friends with and delete everyone else and you won't have to deal with any drama" argument.  To that I say: 

1) Honestly, how many old flames, exes, etc. have you had send you emails on Facebook?  I've had people I'm not friends with track me down and send me messages many times.  I didn't seek them out or ask them to contact me.  It just happens.  

Now, no matter the level of trust you have in your partner, I know it makes your heart race when you hear or see that his or her ex sent an email out of the blue.  I love the man I'm in a relationship with, and I don't care to give him any reason for his heart to race (negatively, anyway - heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey).   This is no longer a concern in my life!

And 2) I'm just going to go ahead and call you a liar if you say you're not friends with a single person on Facebook out of obligation or not hurting feelings.  Sure, you can block them from your feed, but there is going to come a day when you forget to block them from seeing something you post, and you are going to get a nosey email or text message and roll your eyes and curse under your breath.  This no longer happens to me!

So, frankly, I haven't lost a minute's sleep over leaving Facebook.  I don't miss it even remotely.  No amount of trying to convince me my life is not complete without it is going to change my mind.  

So,  I love you, but shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Big deals

Today is a good day.

Silas made it all the way to the gym before he teared up this morning.  That means he braved pulling into the parking lot, getting out of the car, going through the front door, walking across the lobby, and walking down two hallways without so much as a sniffle.  AND THEN, even after he did start crying, no teacher had to pull him off of my leg and coax him to join the class.  He bravely sat down in front of his cereal bowl and allowed me to leave all on his own.  I'm not sure if the hugeness of this is translating through cyberspace.  So, you're just going to have to take my word for it that it is a very big deal.  The mom guilt is still there, but I am so proud of him for being so brave. 

You know who else is a big deal?  Gavin, that's who.  Lately he's gotten very comfortable with standing unsupported in the middle of the floor.  Sometimes he even takes an accidental step without holding onto anything.  He usually quickly realize he's lost touch with the table or couch or your hand and rectifies it immediately.

However, today I received a text message informing me that Gavin took six whole steps, fell, and then got up and took four more steps.  This is the real deal.  He's going to start walking, which, I mean, YAY! because I need him walking before Vivian arrives.  But, damn.  I'm going to turn around and he is going to be heading to preschool.  He already eats like a grown man, so why not, I guess.

For the youngest child's part in the big dealness, well, she is doing her very best to keep mommy from becoming a "big" deal.  I can still wear a lot of my normal clothes (at almost 4 months, which has never, ever happened to me), and I've gained less weight at this stage with her than with the rest of them (even Gavin who was very kind in the weight gain department.)  So, I feel like Viv's got my back, and that's a big deal.

And, finally, I'm afraid to even blog about it, but I may have spent the last two days setting up utilities and cable service and such for a certain house that a certain family is probably moving into pretty soon.  A house 3 times the size (literally) of where we live now.  A house with bedrooms for everyone and a playroom and a fenced backyard.  We may have even spent an hour this week talking about painting and minor repairs we're going to start spending our weekends doing.

We'll know if the maybes are absolutes one week from today.

BIG DEAL!  So, keep your fingers crossed.

I'd apologize to you directly if I could remember why you're mad

Last year, in May, I was suffering from a serious case of pregnancy brain (see here).  It was pretty severe in the forgetfulness department.

Vivian seems to have turned me into Jessica Simpson on top of making me forgetful.

I'm a pretty smart girl.  Really, I am.  That being said, since I have become pregnant this time I have made Tokyo its own country, said a restaurant was "international" because it is in both Texas and Colorado, and asked my boyfriend if the button on his truck that you push for towing was for "pulling a wagon" (because people pull so many wagons these days?)  I know there are others, but my memory is also totally wiped out.

I can't keep up with the fact that I need gas when there is a bright orange light glaring at me.  I've been all set to show up at multiple doctors appointments on the wrong days and times (despite the fact that I have them entered into two calenders with multiple reminders and that every office calls me two days in advance).

My mom picked the boys up yesterday because I had to go out of town and got back a little late.  I didn't pack her a single diaper or wipes or a bottle or any formula or baby food.  "Here they are.  You figure it out!"

So, why am I telling you about this?  Because maybe you asked me to do something and I said "sure!" and then didn't do it.  Or maybe you sent me a text message and it is marked as "read" but I never responded.  Or maybe I was supposed to give you something and it has never appeared.

I'm truly sorry.  I swear I'm not just being an ass.  I live in a 24/7 permanent fog.  And when I do finally have a moment of clarity and remember, "oh my God, I never did x, paid y, or responded to z", my face flames red, and I feel about an inch tall.  But even then, there is no guarantee that I'm going to get it done because the slightest distraction, and it's gone again.

So, if you are going through this with me, feel free to say, "hey dummy, we had plans. WTF?" or something similar.  I promise I won't be offended.  And I promise it always gets (slightly) better once the kid arrives.  So, hang in there!  I'm going to remember whatever you're hating me for eventually and apologize profusely and maybe even have Silas bake you cookies (because that is his new thing - he's a chef, and I don't really care for sugar cookies).

The weekend

This weekend, we did everything we could to make it about the kids (i.e. Silas because really Gavin is just along for the ride, and I was still reeling with mom guilt over this preschool thing).

On Saturday, we scrolled through list after list of things to do in the Metroplex on our phones.  We finally settled on trekking an hour and a half to the North Texas Fair to spend a bunch of money and sweat and take turns talking each other off the ledge of crankiness.  What's important, though, is that I felt slightly better about the mom guilt of leaving my child crying every, single morning last week because Silas had a good time and smiled a lot.  Gavin mostly tried to climb out of the wagon, laughed hysterically at his brother, and dumped a bottle of water all over himself and his pallet.  Whatever, it was hot, and I'd have done it too if I could have gotten away with it.

We were all in bed by 9.  Silas snuggled up to his iPad, Gavin snuggled up to his bottle, Jimmy and I still bitching about how hot it was and sort-of holding hands over the covers and watching Lockup (yep, we're boring.  No, it wouldn't matter if the kids were there or not.  Yes, we're perfectly fine with that.)

Sunday, Gavin and I got up before everyone else (we usually do).  We had breakfast together and played ball and watched HGTV until the rest of the house came straggling into the living room (after that, I lose all control of the remote).

We had lunch with my friends who were in town from Arkansas.  Lunch was at Shenaniganz, which is a grown-up version of Chuck-E-Cheese.  Silas and Rowden stood in the booth and talked over Christen's head while we ate lunch and Gavin did what he could to consume a napkin.  

Eventually, we made it to the arcade where Silas and Rowden each took approximately half an hour for each game of ski-ball and collected enough tickets to trade in for plastic airplanes and the like.

I love Texas.  Honestly, I do.  It feels like home, and I love raising my kids here.  But, I hate that I am missing raising my kids with my friends from home.  I hate that I see them, maybe, once a year.  I couldn't go back even if I wanted to (divorces and visitation agreements and such), and I'm not sure that I would if I could.  I just wish there was a way to have it all - all being my life in Texas and my friends from home.

We got home and turned the living room into kid-zone until dinner (we block it off, throw down toys, and let the kids take over).  Everyone had the sniffles and Gavin started running fever.  

At bedtime, I gave everyone medicine and went to bed feeling like crap (only Tylenol for me - yipee!)  This morning, we all still felt bad, but I'm mean (j/k, well, I can be, but this time it was just because I've had a lot of time off lately) and made everyone (except Jimmy who is still in bed with a pile of medicine I left next to his head) go to their respective daytime haunts.

Silas still cried this morning (because he's going to do it all year - obviously).  Gavin is still fighting fever (which I'm 99% sure is his teeth).  Vivian has let me feel her kick approximately 3 times this weekend.  And I'm being mom, which means feeling like crap but going about the day anyway because no one has time for me to feel like crap.

Happy Monday.

The mommy instinct

I'm noticing a pattern in my blogging lately.  There is a lot about Vivian because of the pregnancy and finding out she is a Vivian and all.  Then there is a lot about Silas because of the whole preschool thing (man, he is trying hard to be brave in the mornings, but we're still working on the tears).

However, there hasn't been a whole lot about Gavin recently.  So, of course, I'm worried that he's already developing "middle child syndrome," and that is the last thing I need for my 9 month old.

At his recent check-up, I learned that he is tall (96th percentile).  So, good on Michael's genes or recessive genes or wherever that came from (obviously not his mother).  His motor skills are developing nicely.  He is putting on weight at a fabulous rate.  

But, apparently, he isn't talking quite enough (his incessant nonsensical noise-making must not count).  That doesn't really freak me out the way I think it would have with Silas.  If someone had told me Silas was "behind" on a milestone, I would have very likely panicked and cried and internet searched my paranoid little heart out.  However, somewhere in the midst of my child-rearing, I settled into the comfortable knowledge that there really is a mommy instinct, and if you trust it, things tend to work out alright.  

I honestly believe that parents know when it's time to worry about something involving their kids (because sometimes doctors blow things off they shouldn't and sometimes they make big deals out of things that aren't).  

My instincts are telling me that Gavin is developing just fine.  

Silas was a talker.  At the ripe old age of 3, his speech and vocabulary rival that of many adults I know.  I worked with Silas on learning words, but he was basically a sponge.  He soaked up language just by listening to every day speech, so it honestly did not take a whole lot of "effort" on my part (boy did he make up for it with potty training).  Anyway, that is all I know when it comes to helping kids learn how to talk.  You talk, they listen, they talk.

People go on and on about how differently kids learn and develop, and I now see how true that is with my very own eyes.

Gavin is not Silas.  Gavin is Gavin.   Obviously, he's going to learn differently than Silas did.  He certainly has the ability to learn words because he already has.  It's just going to take a more focused effort than it did with Silas. 

So far, Gavin has been far more interested in learning how to walk and in developing his motor skills and (most importantly) in figuring out every way possible to charm someone into giving him food.   Plus, it's hard to get a word in with big brother around.   

So, my gut instinct is telling me that Gavin will learn how to talk in his own time.  But that's not to say I'm ignoring the doctor and burying my head in the sand and not working with him on learning new words.  That would be dumb.  I've chatted with all the members of the village, and we have begun to focus on teaching him new words. 

Now we repeat basic words to him constantly (bye bye, ball, bottle, dog, etc).  I give everything I hand him (ball) or do with him (bath) a name and repeat it for him multiple times (for as long as I can keep his interest).  I make sure he's involved when it's time for a story.  I pick books with a rhyming, sing-songy pace to try to hold his attention for as long as possible.

It is paying off.

He was basically only saying "mama" and "hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii" on a regular basis at the check up (one week ago).  However, he can now point to a ball and call it a ball, and just this morning, I heard him babbling on about "dada" (it was bound to happen sooner or later, I guess) and then, in the car, he started in with "bye, bye" (it was so cute, it almost brought tears to my eyes).  

He requires a more focused approach with words.  He tinkers with speech methodically.  He masters one word at a time (unlike Silas who wanted to know all of the words immediately so he could talk your head off).  

Having kids is beautiful in far more ways than the obvious.  It is incredible to me how much raising them is teaching me about people generally and how different we all are.  How each of us finds our niche and grows into it.  How we require more focus in certain areas and less in others.

I love watching the boys grow into who they are.  My only hope is that I never try to push them or pressure them into being people they are not.  I pray I am able to always find the balance between nurturing and encouraging their strengths and helping them strengthen in areas where they need more help.  

Hopefully that mom-instinct will play a role in that.

...first day of school blues (continued)

For our utter and complete inability to function in a marriage together, Michael and I parent together (but separately) easy-peezy. 

Involving Michael in this preschool thing definitely feels like the right thing.  

Silas was not crying when Michael got there to pick him up yesterday, and he told Michael he had had a good day.  Michael took him and got pizza and just spent a little one-on-one time with Silas until I got off work.  

You know when you have a seriously crappy day, and your buddy says, let's go grab a drink or dinner or whatever?  Just spending a couple of hours with someone whose company you sincerely enjoy makes all the difference in that day.

That is what I envision yesterday afternoon was for Silas.  He was in a great mood when I picked him up.

There were still tears this morning, but they were much fewer.  He perked up when I told him daddy was going to try to pick him up again.

I have always known this split household thing was going to be really tough on Silas.  So, I'm grateful that Michael and I are almost always on the same page about the kids and can work together in situations like this.  I'm so glad for Silas that he still has two parents who do everything they can to be involved in his life and help him through rough transitions.

You make these decisions and then have to pray everything works out well for your kids.  And I count my blessings daily that things seem to be working out pretty great for everyone involved.

So, onward we march in this preschool transition.  The village raising Silas.  Scattered though the village may be, we have our love of that little boy in common.  

There are probably still a few more rough days ahead, but in a couple of weeks, Silas will be running the joint if I know him.

Rockin the Backpack on the Playground