a little time

Iva June.  You are ten.
TEN.
10.
Double digits.
A decade.
A tenth of a century.

Like a dime.
Tiny but mighty.

This is a day for celebration right?  Celebrating the things you can do, the things I never thought you would do like....

walk    swim    eat    sleep    pinch   giggle.


But this is a day of mourning, a day that marks that time is steadily marching on, and somewhere, somehow, your brain hasn't figured out how to do all the little things that make a 10 year old so

typical.

And I've put to death those dreams of a pink ballerina, dolly clothes, fairy wings, dragon costumes, your singing voice, prom queen, and your white bridal gown.

I packed them up neatly in a wretched box, tied with a bow,
threw them in the attic where they're collecting
dust, webs and wings.

And every year I forget more and more about the box in the attic because I've created a new box for you, a basket of sorts where I'm collecting the new dreams.

One with all the colors of the rainbow, 
popsicles, 
sparkly objects, 
fireworks,
Caribbean waters, 
hot sand, 
rushing wind, 
rap music, 
the Polar Express, 
piano ballads, 
bouncy horses,
smooth rocks, 
and squishy spaghetti.

June's special birthday treat delivered at school today

That's so typical of me, Iva June
To put you in a box.

Prove me wrong, my girl.

Put those fairy wings on and fly.
Sing me the most beautiful song.
Ride your bike with me over the bridge,
into the sunset,
onto the little island
where we play all day in the hot sand
and recite prayers of
Thanksgiving
to the
Great I Am.

I've got time.
I've got a few more decades of time.
I think.

Your Daddy and Mommy love you our little Bug.

Ghosted

I'm kind of at my wits end...I've been looking for an attendant for my daughter for over 6 months now.  That's not really what I'm annoyed about though.  I'm concerned with what is going on with our teenagers and young adults today.  I'm not sure where it started....but I promise if you are a teenager and you read this post, your view on people, cell phones, respect, and common courtesy will change just a little bit.  You might not offend your future employer, and you might even get recommended for another babysitting job when you've respectfully said no to this babysitting offer.  If you are in this camp or have children in this camp, then read on...

I have been trying to hire someone to watch my daughter after school and I typically get one of three responses after an initial texting or messaging conversation.  It usually goes like this:

Teenager or Young adult: Hi!  I'm interested in the job working as your daughter's attendant!
Me: Great!  Can I call you to set up a time to chat about the job?

It is at this point where I lose about 50% of my candidates.  They simply ghost me.

The other 50% of them will respond with their phone number and so I try to call them and talk to them on the phone and have a phone interview. I will only actually reach about 25% of this pool.  Sometimes their message box is full so I will text again and ask them to call me at their convenience.

So for the 25% that I actually talk to on the phone, only about half of them sound alive.  The other half sound like they might be sleeping, dying or distracted....

I'm down to 12%.  They sound wonderful.  They might even claim they are a Christian, volunteer at their local church, have a special needs or language pathology major, have a cousin with autism, or claim to love the pool.  Perfect I think.  So then I tell them I will text them some dates and times to actually come to my home and meet June.  At this point I'm usually slightly optimistic.
At this point also, about half of those people DON'T EVEN RESPOND TO MY TEXT.

I would be happy if, at this point they texted me a simple, "Hi I am so sorry, but I've thought about it and I'm not interested anymore..."  But I don't get that. Instead I am ghosted again.

If this person said no, I could in theory recommend them to another Mom who might need help that they may be a better fit for, but instead because they ghost me, they are labeled as rude, and have completely left my mind. Because they ghosted me, I ghost them back subconsciously.

I am now down to 6%.  The person makes the appointment for the working interview with me and then 50% of the time doesn't even show up.

I am down to 3%.  The person shows up and acts bored, unsure, or doesn't even look June in the eye and say hi.  I get it. Sometimes it's challenging to know how to say hi to her.  I usually give the candidates the benefit of the doubt at this point.  If they show any warmth or interest in the job, then I usually offer them the job and tell them to think about it and get back to me about whether or not they want to take it.

A couple days go by and I usually don't hear anything and so I reach out and ask if they have made a decision and from there I get ghosted again by most of them.

I am down to 1%. There is a rare person, maybe 1 out of 100 who will take the job.  And sometimes...a few of those people actually do an excellent job....going above and beyond, investing in June and making her life more fun, creative and lively.  They love on her and get excited about what she's excited about.  They are not staring at their phone and in another world, a virtual world trying to escape their job.  They see June as a person who also wants to live the fullest life.  They take chances, dive deep and let their hair blow in the wind with her.

In case your teen needs it spelled out:

1. When your employer or prospective employer texts you a question, they are looking for a response, preferably within 12 hours.  And they are hoping your response is the TRUTH.  They don't care if it's bad news, they just want the truth.
2. When you are at your job, any job, please remember that it's time to invest and go above and beyond in your job.  That's how you are noticed.  That's how you get an excellent recommendation, and besides, don't you want to naturally do everything with excellence?  Not mediocrity...
3. Whenever you are going for a job interview for children, please always stoop down, look the child in the eye and introduce yourself: "Hi! I'm______.  What's your name?" Or, in case the child or elderly person can't talk, say "Hi _________! My name is ________. It's so good to meet you!"


Be the 1% friends.
Be better than the 1%.

Baby Tooth and Dog Truths

Tonight my baby lost her first tooth. 

We knew it was coming. 

We were awaiting this moment with bittersweet breath because this was our last first. 

She held it out to us at the dinner table- a trophy of endurance, a peace-offering of sorts as she tried to gobble down her last bit of pizza.

We celebrated with her and sung about how the tooth fairy would fly in and give her a small prize in the middle of the night for her courage, perseverance and determination. 

She held my gaze a bit longer than usual and played along. I think she knew deep down in her little heart there was no tooth fairy, but she asked anyway. 

"Mommy, has anyone ever seen the tooth fairy?"

"Certainly not"  I said.
Because that is the truth.
And I gave her a wink and a hug. 

Something about this moment pronounced her all grown up and I choked down tears as I watched her put her tooth in a baggie for safe-keeping.

What's funny about this tooth is that it didn't want to come out of her mouth. She had two adult teeth that had pushed their way through her gums and were proudly standing behind those baby teeth and just waiting for her to grow up. 

It was taking forever to happen.
And I knew why deep down in my soul.

This baby girl who had sacrificed her whole baby career to be a big kid so I could tend to her older sister wanted to hold on to her baby identity just a little longer...

Hopefully someday she'll forgive me. 

 Two weeks before Christmas I got my kids a dog named Rambo. He came to us looking like a matted mop yet had the sweetest temperament and I just couldn't leave the little scottie there at the shelter. I thought I was getting my kids a pet but what I didn't realize was that I needed a dog-friend much more than they did. 

There is something that happens when you get a dog. Suddenly everything you thought that mattered doesn't matter anymore: like clean floors, clean couches, and manners. And crumbs definitely don't matter anymore.  Because they are licked up and eaten in 2 seconds flat.  

Suddenly you find yourself in the midst of worrying about the hairy dust bunny in the corner...and somehow, magically the pros outweigh the cons and your pup runs and jumps into your lap and you realize right then and there that you are forgiven, 

for now and for then, and for always. 

He never judges you, always sees the best in you, always gives you the benefit of the doubt, is completely loyal, waits patiently for any morsel of affection you can throw his way. And then, he settles down in your lap for a long snuggle and you are forgiven. 

For every last bad deed you have ever done that day, and the days before that, 

and the ones yet to come.  

Charlotte prayed this tonight as she laid her little head down:

Dear Jesus, we hope that you love us more than to the moon and back. And that your love comes to us and our love to you and you bring us salvation. 

I don't pray like that. I'm not sure where she pulls these foundational truths from. 

I am forgiven. For every last bad deed I have done today. 
For forever.
And for always. 

That's it. 

And now I will put on my tooth fairy wings and fly up to the bedroom and reach under my babiest daughter's pillow and give her her heart's desire:

3 gold coins and a piece of chocolate.

And then I will snuggle on the couch with my Rambo. 

And be forgiven.

Pumpkin Pie and 11 candles

My dear James,

It's Thanksgiving day,
and it's also
YOUR BIRTHDAY!
And you are absolutely, positively, 100%
11 years old.

I know it's been sneaking up on you since you were, well....a toddler.
That independent spirit.
Keen Intuition.
Navigational skills.
Super hero and helper.
Always aware.
Positively Correct.
All. The. Time.

You were born to be 11.

And it frees me up just a bit.  Because I feel better about you roaming about as your 11 year old self, digging up holes, catching fish, building fires and chicken coops, babysitting babies and bugs....

11 years ago today, it, too was Thanksgiving Day, and I was counting my blessings at
Norfolk General Hospital:
my healthy baby boy, snuggly and fat,
the hospital pumpkin pie which was absolutely divine,
and your Daddy, the best birthing coach in the land.

And there we were.  A little happy-ish family.
And we had no idea what was about to go down. Did we?

And then year after year it never ceased.
The re-shaping, the re-grouping of our family, the gnawing ache in my heart for something
that could never be, the sudden shifting tides,
the silent dragon, that only breathed fire,
but never ever spoke.

The mourning.
The waiting.
The night time.
The medicating.
The self-medicating.
The morning.

And every time we cycled through, you added a brick and put it in a basket around your neck, and you tried with all your might to hold your head up high.
But you couldn't any longer.
The bricks weighed you down to the bottom of the ocean floor.
And you stayed.
And we waited. Very patiently.

Praying, begging, pleading with the Savior
to pick you up, and put a new song in your mouth,
and give you back.

And in your time, and in your way, you crept right back into my arms again.
Right where you started 11 years ago.

It wasn't the greatest year, was it?
In fact, it may have been the worst.

But James,
You overcame.
You needed time to heal, time to process, time to re-learn,
and time to re-imagine your life again.

We will never be the same.
And we never want to be.

Happy Birthday my sweet, sweet boy.
I just know that 11 is gonna be the sweetest.

Normal

The day after school let out I sacrificed my summer to the doctors, therapists, nurses, pharmacists, and counselors of Hampton Roads.

It literally happened over night, in an instant.

And while I can't tell you that story, I can tell you that it's been isolating, lonely, and for an extrovert like me, a game of carefully walking a line and balancing my friends on a tightrope so I don't go crazy.

Today I literally spent 8:15 am  to 3:00 pm dealing with medical or insurance issues.
L-i-t-e-r-a-l-l-y.

I made my kids' lunches while I sat on hold for the 17th time with another doctor's office.
I cursed the answering service under my breath as I smeared the last tablespoon of peanut butter onto an organic wheat piece of bread.
And then I called someone else, held my breath.
And hoped they understood my plea.

I do not cry anymore.  I don't have time to.

The menagerie of bills, toys, artwork and forms on my kitchen counter has become more than embarrassing and tonight I rallied and made some order to the seemingly ending chaos, polishing the black granite shiny with a rag.  I may have rubbed a little too hard, I am not sure.

My attendant asked me today if I like being a stay-at-home mom and I almost choked.
"No," I thought.
 But instead, "I don't love it in the summers," slipped out.

The other day I was walking with my kids, June strapped into her special needs-stroller.
I was at the beach by myself with these little people.  Which is a miracle within itself.
Some guy says, "Aren't you too big for that stroller little girl?"
I looked at him, pursed my lips and let out "Hmmmm."
Because I was contemplating him. And contemplating my life.
Because I didn't have the energy to sock him across the face.
Because he's right.  I have a 9 year old in a stroller.

And sometimes my 10 year old takes care of her as his "chore".
And lately it's been my 6 year old.

I am sorry if you have called me and I have not responded.  I am on auto-pilot.

If you didn't catch it up there, I have run out of peanut butter.  That never happens.

This too, shall pass, but the unfortunately the passing is taking too long.

I told God yesterday "I thought you just wanted my Summer".
And I think He whispered back, " I want all of you."

And as if I thought it was enough to have just one child with special needs, I am coming to the realization that I may have two.  Matter of fact, I am certain my entire family is some kind of special.

I have accepted it.
But I can't move on.

I'm sorta stuck.

I wanted the other family.
The normal family.

God, would you help me love my new normal?

What I really want for Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day Eve and I'm racking my brain trying to figure out what we will do tomorrow to commemorate this special event-

the day where I'm supposed to 

rest
eat bon-bons
lie in my bed while my children serve me hand and foot.
get a massage
and a pedicure

And since I am fairly certain that all of this will happen, I will rest well tonight.

So...
DO you want to know a secret?

This is what I really want.  This year. And this year only.

I would like for 
every single person, little and big 
to leave my house for the day so I can

clean the house from top to bottom 
pay the bills and go through the stack of mail sitting on the counter
organize the toys and put them away in bins
wash all the clothes and fold them neatly, rearranging and thinning drawers
scrub the floors until they shine and shimmer

And then do you know what I will do?

I will pull out the chocolate cake that my kids made me yesterday for my birthday and 
sit at the table and eat it all by myself
with not a single hint of an interruption
while I watch everything stay
 EXACTLY WHERE I PUT IT FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.

Because that would be pure bliss right there.
NOTHING MOVES.
FOR AN ENTIRE DAY.

Happy Mother's Day Friends.
May your day be bright and beautiful!


Proverbs 31:10-31 The Message 

A good woman is hard to find,
    and worth far more than diamonds.
Her husband trusts her without reserve,
    and never has reason to regret it.
Never spiteful, she treats him generously
    all her life long.

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons,
    and enjoys knitting and sewing.
She’s like a trading ship that sails to faraway places
    and brings back exotic surprises.

She’s up before dawn, preparing breakfast
    for her family and organizing her day.
She looks over a field and buys it,
    then, with money she’s put aside, plants a garden.
First thing in the morning, she dresses for work,
    rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started.
She senses the worth of her work,
    is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.

She’s skilled in the crafts of home and hearth,
    diligent in homemaking.
She’s quick to assist anyone in need,
    reaches out to help the poor.

She doesn’t worry about her family when it snows;
    their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear.
She makes her own clothing,
    and dresses in colorful linens and silks.
Her husband is greatly respected
    when he deliberates with the city fathers.
She designs gowns and sells them,
    brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops.
Her clothes are well-made and elegant,
    and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.

When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say,
    and she always says it kindly.
She keeps an eye on everyone in her household,
    and keeps them all busy and productive.
Her children respect and bless her;
    her husband joins in with words of praise:
“Many women have done wonderful things,
    but you’ve outclassed them all!”

Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.
    The woman to be admired and praised
    is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.
Give her everything she deserves!
    Festoon her life with praises!

I like you

I shouldn't be writing this.  It's the dead of Winter and everything seems...well, dead, or dying, or sick.  I'm just your average mom in the USA who hasn't left her house much because just when we get done circulating one sickness and I can breathe again, the school nurse calls me and tells me to high-tail it down there to pick up a crying child.  Or, (God bless her), my son's friend's mom called me to tell me my son had puked all over her living room carpet.  And me-well, I don't have time to be sick, but unfortunately, I had to make the time and also unfortunately, my toilets, my sinks, my floors, my drawers and my husband have all noticed as well.  How many times does one become bedridden without becoming depressed?

 I certainly have an appreciation for those of you out there and bedridden and sick for forever.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry you have to go through this flu, this sickness, this cancer, this old-age thing.  I'm sorry there is not a ray of sunshine shining through your window right now.

Honestly, I've been super thankful for the Olympics, Disney, Adventures in Odyssey, the actual onion-thin pages of the Bible and the creators of This is Us for the last couple months.  Thank you for helping me get through this season.  Oh, and the book, Hillbilly Elegy.  If you haven't read it, you should.  If you like true stories.

Which brings me back to Disney.  And my June-bug.

It all started a couple weeks ago, when, in between sickness, I went to observe June in her classroom.  I usually do this once a year to check out her situation, since she can't really tell me what's going on at school.  Usually she ignores me completely while I sit at the back of the class.  I usually see her happy at circle time, steal a kiss, she wipes it off, then I leave.  I breathe a sigh of relief that things were as good as I had imagined.

Well, this time was different.  Upon entering the classroom, she turned completely around in her chair and stared straight at me.  She kept giggling like the secret was out.  "Guys. My MOM is here.  Can you believe it?"  She kept making eyes at me, and while I was trying to ignore her, I really sat there mesmerized and in disbelief.

She notices me I thought.

She likes me.  LIKES me.  I can't even believe it.  My 8 year old likes me!

I grabbed her little cheeks and looked her in the eyes and said
Mommy sees you.  And I like what you are doing here.  Thank you for having me in your class.  
I love you.
And I walked out of the classroom.
And she didn't follow me.  She sat in her little chair in the circle at the front of the classroom because that's what little third graders do.

A week later I was watching Frozen with my 5 year old. We were both sick and snuggled up on the couch.  All of the sudden June came barreling into the room and squished her body right next to mine and put her hand in mine.  I was startled.
Oh!  You want to actually watch a movie with me?  
Okay....well this has never happened.... 
And she watched the entire second half of the movie with us.
On the couch.
With her hand in my hand.
She kept looking up at me and smiling as if to tell me
Mom I like you.

I know it doesn't seem like much to some of you.  But this is HUGE for our family.  We are not your typical family that sits down and watches a movie together while mom and dad lay there zonked.  It simply doesn't happen because June doesn't care to or doesn't have the attention span for a movie.  And not that she will for every movie, but this is a small window for me into learning that she is growing up just a little, and if we have to watch Frozen once a month as a family, we will.
Because it feels so normal.

This morning my 5 year old handed me a slip of paper.  And I almost cried.

Do you?
Do you really?
Because
In between the
Iloveyous
hugsandkisses
Momineedyous

It sure is nice to be liked.

June's new happy spot.  I like it.