Time

I reach under the blanket to tickle my boy's toes. I whisper that it's time to get up for school and pray that this morning finds my sweet O in an agreeable mood. 

"No! I'm not going!"
"Sweet boy, I know you don't want to, but it's not a choice. We have to go."
"It IS a choice.  I'm not going!"
"I'm going to go wake up your brothers I'll be back to check on you."
He begins screaming as I walk away.

My eyes fill with tears as I move on to my other children.  I hate that they wake up every morning listening to their brother scream. I hate that I don't get to send them off with any "good luck on your test!" or "I know you'll do great on your speech" pep talks. At this point I'd settle for "Don't forget your backpacks".  Every single moment of our morning is spent cajoling Oliver to get dressed, eat, get in the car, and then get in the building.  I never for one moment take for granted that I have such flexible grace filled older children.  They never complain and often offer help.  

"How's it going, O? You need any help with your shoes?"
"I'm not wearing shoes because I'm NOT GOING TO SCHOOL"

Both shoes are tossed in my direction.  I sigh, pick them up, and put them by his backpack.  I'll deal with them later.  If he gets to school barefooted at least he'll be at school.  I check to make sure the babies are still eating and that W and G are close to being ready. They are all in good shape so I move back to Oli.

"Hi, Sweetie! I'm so proud you got dressed.  What do you feel like eating today?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Ok. Can you force something down? I hate sending you without something in your tummy."

As soon as I've said the words I know I've messed up.  The only way to keep the peace in the mornings is to keep up the illusion that O is not going to school. He insists he isn't and I don't argue.  If I make any comment that he interprets as an invitation to fight then he gleefully brings out the crazy.  I close my eyes and begin deep breathing.

"I TOLD YOU I"M NOT GOING!!!!!!" 

Oliver starts kicking the wall repeatedly and I know that we have just earned our 900th tardy of the year.  


I reach under the blanket to tickle my boy's toes.  I whisper that it's time to get up for school and pray that this morning finds my sweet O as happy as he usually is. 

"You need to hurry or I'm to not just going to tickle your toes but also your nose!"

I watch the impish grin I adore spread across his face as he whispers back:

"Not my nose and toes! Wait until I GROW!"

We both explode into laughter and he jumps out of bed.  That he happily gets out of bed and he can rhyme is not lost on me.  It doesn't take a Lens of Joy to be filled with happiness about the changes Oliver has made.  A diagnosis of dyslexia, intensive intervention with a gifted teacher, and lots and lots of positive reinforcement from the adults in his life have softened Oliver's heart and helped him make huge progress academically.  My silly O is back! 

There are times though when I wonder about the future and where O is headed.  What is college going to look like? What kind of job will he get? Is he going to sleep in his bunk bed forever? That's when I have to stop and make myself think back to all Oliver and I have been through. My Lens of Joy helps give me perspective.  He's Oliver! He's tough and persistent and brilliant.  He is amazing.  He's my hope.  

Trust

If you know me at all you know that I am a planner at heart.  I have had a long running love affair with my calendars (yes plural) and my comfort zone is knowing who, what, when, and where at all times.  So far, this challenge has been one big giant Nope on planning ahead.  I mentioned in my last post that I was going to do something different and not prewrite. I was just going to trust that my post for the day would find me. Y'all, that's HARD. I am a writer through and through. I write in my head all day long.  I am constantly grabbing a pen to jot down random sentences for posts that may or may not actually be published. By noon I'd "written" at least 3 posts that I could have made physical this afternoon. In yoga this is called monkey mind... you're supposed to be meditating and have an empty clear mind, but your brain is jumping around on it's own trampoline.  I finally decided to read to the twins in an attempt to quiet the jumping monkeys in my brain. 

At 2:30 I hear my text chime go off with G's teacher's alert.  I jump up to find this from her:

I immediately start to cry.  Both from the beauty and hope in my sweet G's words, but also because I can already see that having faith isn't meaningless.  It's work and scary and so so so much easier to fall back into old patterns, but look what the payoff is just today!

Reading G's truism brought me such peace.  He loves with a heart so genuine  and pure.  He has been hurt and confused by adults and friends at times but he chooses to keep loving the same way.  If he can make that choice so can I.  Living life with our joy lenses on.  

Finding My Way

I learned of the devastation in Las Vegas this morning right after I turned off my alarm.  I read all the news alerts on my phone and then hid under the covers telling myself  "I can't do this".  As I lay there in tears I wondered what exactly I couldn't do... Get up? Get dressed? Life?  I had to talk myself into waking my children and starting the day.  I wanted nothing more than to keep them home, throw all "smart devices" in the trash, and plan our new compound life.  My heart hurt and I needed my babies near me. 

When my anxiety overwhelms me I can always count on routine.  Predictability soothes me. I lose myself in some mundane task (like folding laundry) and eventually I can feel my heart rate slow and my racing thoughts begin to organize.  Today the familiar drive to our preschool across town was the perfect distraction.  I realized that what I am feeling is fear.  I am afraid that tragedies are going to continue.  I am afraid that the divisive tone of our country is only going to get worse.   I am afraid for my children to be out of my sight.  I am afraid that something "big" will happen when my husband is working out of town and we will be separated.  With every speech, news show, article, and conversation I feel my hope fade and my fear grow. I know I have to find my balance.  To feel fearful and anxious so often just isn't healthy.  Life is hard.  The time we live in is particularly hard. But it can't be ALL bad.

I recently stumbled on this quote by Erline Patrick:

"Life lived and seen through a lens of JOY brings Hope, Strength, Courage, Faith, and Love."  

A lens of joy sounds beautiful doesn't it? After some thinking today I had the idea to use the quote as a sort of recipe.  I want to grow my Hope and Faith especially, but if Strength, Courage, and Love are byproducts too then even better. Other than using Write31 to document this journey I have no idea what this will look like.  My guess is that it will change often.  I'm going to try my best to just go with what each day brings and to make sure I'm looking through a lens of Joy.   

Write31

I may really regret this, but I've signed up for a writing challenge called Write31.  I'm supposed to free write on one topic every day for the entire month of October.  I don't have any trouble writing every day it's the publishing without editing that's giving me pause.  I'm not sure I'm ready to share my ugly stream of consciousness with everyone.  The point is to stretch as a writer and see how deep you can delve into one topic.

Speaking of topics... I have a great one! I am SO excited!  I can't wait to share all my thought provoking posts with you. I have been prewriting and brainstorming like a "real" writer and am so super prepared. 

 

Just kidding. 

I don't have a subject. 

For real. 

The challenge starts TODAY and I DO NOT have a topic.

This is not like me at all.  I want to click the x in the upper right corner of my screen and try again next year, BUT I'm not going to let myself do that.  I'm going to keep thinking and praying.  A subject will come to me.  I've been drawn to this challenge for a reason and I need to have faith that if I keep going I will complete it. 

Even if it starts TODAY and I DO NOT have a topic. 

Dear Darling Children,

Dear Darling Children:

We have had such a lovely summer.  I have loved every second of swimming and eating snow cones.  Staying up late and watching movies with you has been divine. Exploring new places and having fun with friends was just the break we needed. However, we have reached a new point in the summer.  I feel it's only fair to let you know that Beginning of the Summer Mom is gone and has been replaced by End of Summer Mom.

While I am so very happy you're still home this End of Summer Mom is starting to feel the burn from the hot August sun.  The pool isn't quite as refreshing.  The snow cones a little sickly sweet.  In short, my sweeties, you're really starting to bug me.  

In the beginning I didn't really miss my silent house.  It was nice to have the noise! I hadn't realized how quiet things were until they weren't.  Now the constant chatter of YouTube gamers and Oliver's Opera imitations have caused a chronic twitch in my left eye.  I'm hopeful come September it will quit.  If it doesn't and I'm forced to wear an eye patch, then your punishment will be to dress up as pirates with me for Halloween.  I know how you all feel about family themes! Arrrrgh! 

Dearhearts, let's talk about my car for a second.  I know that cleanliness has never been a real priority for my vehicle.  The twins have made that a near impossibility.  However, collectively you all have turned my car into a small dirty Walmart.  It is full of shoes, snacks, books, paper, straws, markers, clothes, cat food, and yesterday I found something resembling a lemon, but Grant corrected me and informed me that it was at one time an apple.  I have found myself on more than one occasion completely bypassing the pantry or cupboard and going straight to my car.  That in itself is worrisome, but that I didn't even think to look in the pantry or cupboard is what really bothers me.  What have you all done to me???

I've noticed a change in our grocery list too. I've gone from ordering 2 boxes of cereal a week to 4. 4 gallons of milk to 6.  2 loaves of bread to 3.  You know what I haven't ordered all summer? Toothpaste. I brush Laurel's, Rhodes', and Oliver's teeth.  Will and Grant. That's just gross, guys. Seriously.  Go brush. 

Now. 

I have one more thing I need to get off my chest.  Beginning of the Summer Mom was really enthusiastic about all the crafty activity things we could do together.  End of the Summer Mom is not.  I am no longer participating in activities involving slime, baking soda, silly string, water balloons, tempra paint, or any activity necessitating a trip to a craft store. I am also not participating in any activity requiring the use of a mixer, oven, stove, scissors, or adult supervision.  However there is good news! There are no longer any limits on screen time or game time! Have fun.  Just put your headphones in. 

Dearest Blessings, I love you and I love our time together.  I will love it even more after August 17. 

Love, 

Mama

  

Rescue Me

The smell almost knocks us over as we walk through the door. The kids begin to make gagging sounds and make bets about what could have made such a horrid smell. My eyes fill with tears both from the smell and from the knowledge that I'm going to be the one to have to deal with the mess. The awfulness gets worse the closer I move to my bedroom.  I'm not sure I want to open the door, but know I really have no choice. I say a silent prayer for a sudden stuffy nose and push the door open. It's worse than I thought. 

Scrappy, one of my newest foster kittens, has taken out his anger at me by leaving me "gifts" all over my bedroom, bathroom, and closet. He is what I call a "revenge pooper".  He doesn't want to be put away and never hesitates to let me know that. G put him in our foster room before we left, but the door is known for not latching correctly. I'm now kicking myself for not getting it fixed. 

After cleaning up Scrappy's Poo Party I skip dinner and head for the shower. While I'm in there I ask myself the same question I've been asked a million times: "Why do you foster kittens...it's so much work and you just give them back in the end?" 

I used to post quite a bit about my foster babies on social media. I quit because I was tired of all the "crazy cat lady" comments. While they were funny at first, they quickly took on judging tone. I didn't want to have to answer that Yes, I had another one, and Yes, I was getting up every two hours all night to bottle feed it, and Yes, I knew it was just a cat. 

To me it's more than caring for just a cat. It's a way for me to communicate with God. It's my way of praising Him for the amazing beings He takes the time to create. I firmly believe we are charged with being good stewards of all His creations. Nothing is too little or too insignificant for God so why should it be any different for me? 

Out of my current fosters these are the two babies that have caused me much worry and have absolutely stolen my heart. 

This is Berry: 

He was found still attached to his placenta outside a Walgreens. He weighed 3 oz when I got him. The shelter's foster coordinator estimated he was about 2 weeks premature. His sister, despite my very best effort, didn't survive. 

Here he is now:

 

He is spunky and spoiled rotten and I'm not sure that my heart will be able to give him up.   

This is Gus:

 

He was found alone at Southwestern University. We think he was about 2 weeks old and at the time weighed almost 12 oz.  He cried for his mom and siblings for days and seriously just about broke my heart. He drinks his bottle with his eyes closed and I always wonder if he's imagining that he's nursing from his mama.

I've only had him about 2 weeks, but here he is now: 

 

.  

I hope I'm always lucky enough to have a house full of kittens. It can be chaotic, messy, even a little overwhelming at times, but my heart is always full and laughter is never far. If you ever need a pick me up this crazy cat lady's door is always open. 

My Friend

I get the text full of pictures and unexpectedly begin to cry. Images of black gowns, mortar boards, bouquets, and smiling faces full of pride and promise. While the girl at the center of the ceremony is one I could not be prouder of, it is her mother that is filling my heart with such joy.  

Emilia has been my family for more than 15 years. We have held each other up and celebrated with one another through life's ebb and flows. We love each other's children as if they were our own. Our friendship is one that runs deep and will no doubt be lifelong. 

I have watched Emilia mother her daughter single handedly. I have seen the tears brought on by worry and fear of the unknown. I have witnessed the hours upon hours of work necessary to pay for the education being celebrated today. I have seen you, Emilia. 

This is your accomplishment too, my friend. Be proud of what you have given your daughter, as you have forever changed her life for the better. 

You did it!!!!!