Rachael

Living in the Rural South

Stay SaneJuly 16, 2015October 2, 2016

Almost two years ago our family packed up and moved from Chicago to the Upstate of South Carolina. It wasn’t enough to just move to a smaller (much smaller) city. We decided to move to the country. We went from our neighbor’s house being 6 feet away to “where are our neighbors?” (there is a house across the street, but looking out the back there is only trees and mountains). Needless to say, life is much different now. Here are some observations:

Everything is a 30 minute drive, but that’s alright because the only traffic that occurs is if you get stuck behind a tractor.

Or occasionally the driver just out enjoying themselves and the view. You can tell when it’s someone that doesn’t actually live out here because they feel like they need to slow way down for every curve. Nah! You can totally take that curve at 50 MPH!! In Chicago, one time it took me an hour to drive 4 miles.

Even the grocery is 30 minutes away, but that’s alright as well because we can just get our produce and dairy straight from the farm down the road.

And then you get the joy of actually talking to the farmers and/or their family members. Just plan on staying a while to listen to some stories. In Chicago, we loved our local grocery store that was 1/2 mile away, but it would still take us 15 minutes to get there.

Parking is not a concern. If by some chance the parking lot is full, you can just park in the grass.

We went to a local high school football game last fall. There were pick up trucks parked on every free patch of grass. In Chicago, I would sometimes not go places just with the fear of having to find (and pay) for parking.

We are more concerned with bears/coyotes/bobcats/copperheads than burglars.

Sometimes we go hiking behind our house and we have to be very alert for copperheads, and at night we here coyotes. In Chicago, I was once harassed and threatened walking out at night.

We hear gunshots every weekend but don’t even consider needing to call 911.

Seriously, like all weekend long. We’ve contributed to the noise a few times. In Chicago, even in our “safe” neighborhood there were gang shootings.

Having deer/foxes/wild turkeys 10 feet from our back door is a regular occurrence.

One night I had a fox bark at me. Didn’t know they did that. In Chicago, we saw rats.

“Yes” and “no” are followed by “sir” or “ma’am.” And there is no sarcasm involved.

They also talk like this in Kentucky, where I grew up. In Chicago, I would talk like this and taught my son to respond this way. I had someone actually ask where we were from because it obviously wasn’t from there.

We don’t leave small pets outside. A hawk may grab it.

Our dog isn’t that small, but I’ve heard stories of kittens going missing. In Chicago, we had rats.

We don’t mind seeing black snakes. That means free pest control.

One day we saw a black rat snake come out from the crawl space under the house. I was thankful to see it didn’t catch anything. In Chicago, we needed these to take care of the rats.

We’re more afraid of ants than any other insect. Those suckers hurt!

My hubby has unfortunately developed quite an allergy to fire ants. He got bit on his hand and his whole arm swelled up. In Chicago…well, I gotta admit there are not as many mean bugs there.

We’re nice to everybody because you better believe that each person we meet knows someone that knows us. And they will talk.

We learned within our first month here that running into to people that you know is just part of life. It really is a small town. And when you are out at stores and make eye contact with people you actually speak to them. In line at Walmart? You’ll know the life story of the lady behind you. Eating a Chick Fil A? A nice lady will come over and ask about your pregnancy. In Chicago, there are just soooo many people. One time I set out to make Chicago be friendly, you know say “hi” to people on the street. I was exhausted within 10 minutes. It’s just not possible to be friendly with everyone.

I know I’m pretty critical of Chicago, and it’s true that I much prefer the South and the Country. But there are many things that I do miss. I miss being able to walk to a friends house. I miss taking the bus to meet a friend for dinner. I miss that grocery store. I miss my neighbors. I miss our doctors. I miss yard work that only took 30 minutes. But I do not, in any way, miss the rats.

The Couple That Works Together, Stays Together

Love, Stay SaneJuly 8, 2015October 9, 2016

My hubby and I love to do projects. Big or little, there is also something going on. Our problem is actually finishing a project before we start another one. I know not all couples enjoy working together (and honestly maybe shouldn’t), but for us it has definitely strengthened our relationship.

We’ve done little projects, like making a crafty-looking vase for our bathroom.

And major projects, like a complete gut rehab of our second floor.

And then plenty of in-between projects like the bunk beds we made.

As we were working on the bunk beds we were commenting to each other how much we enjoy working together and how blessed we felt. But then several weeks later we were helping a friend with one of her projects (gut bathroom remodel) and it was not the same experience. We were on edge with each other and making snippy remarks. So what was the difference?

Normally…

We are willing to listen to each others ideas and we don’t hesitate to question one another. It’s not taken personal. A lot of times our concerns are not valid, but there have been instances that we have caught one another from making a mistake or have simplified the process or have come up with an idea to make it even better.

We are both willing to be the assistant. Sometimes I take the lead and have him hand me things. Sometimes he takes the lead and I stand there and look pretty (and hold the board steady).

We give each other the freedom to make mistakes. On the bunk bed, there was one board that my hubby cut the wrong length. Too short. Kinda difficult to put that back on. Instead of getting frustrated with him, I assured him that it wasn’t a big deal and that we would just use that one in a different spot and I would go buy an additional board. And then when I miscalculated and bought the wrong length of board for the shelves, he assured me that it wasn’t a big deal and we ended up patching in a piece (that only my older son would ever see).

So, why were we having problem at our friend’s house?

Well…

It started with miscommunication. I thought he needed something, so I left and went to the store to get it, only to come back and he had moved forward without it and looked at me confused when I was telling him that I got what he needed. So the frustration started right off the bat.

Even though it wasn’t my house it very much felt like my project and I was the one giving direction. This particular day though there were other people helping and not room for me to be in there. I know that I have the freedom to tell my hubby if something needs to be done a certain way, not quite so easy to tell others. And unfortunately I felt like this was because I’m a woman and should not be telling men how to do “manly” projects. Now, I’m in NO WAY saying that they behaved in such a way to make me feel that way. I put that on myself, but it made me angry and stirred up all these resentments within myself that I of course blamed my hubby for (and the church, but that is a different topic for a different day).

And then, when there was something that had been done “wrong” I got all upset again and felt justified in my resentments. If I had been in there, this would not have happened. Now to be completely honest, this “wrong” was so utterly minor, it was truly a non-issue. But I was not quick to let it and go and assure him. Instead I felt the need to point it out and complain that it wasn’t done correctly.

Afterwards…

We of course talked about the major cloud of tension that was occupying the space between us. We talked about why I was peeved and what the deeper issue was. Because let’s be honest, so often what gets us all riled up is not even the real problem. So ultimately we walked away having an even greater understanding of the other. Marriage is great.

Final though…

Yes, we enjoy doing projects together, but maybe this doesn’t work for you and your spouse. Maybe for you it’s being able to play together, or have a shared passion or hobby. The key is to have something to share, that is challenging, and results in both of you growing closer to each other.

xoxo

Love My Enemy?

Love, Stay SaneJuly 1, 2015August 9, 2018

“But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…” These are the words of Jesus found in Matthew 5:44. I grew up hearing, and being taught these words. They’ve always sounded good, something that all people should strive for, but not something that was ever put into daily practice. Perhaps it should have been.

A couple weeks ago a tragedy occurred that perfectly demonstrated what this means. After the shootings in Charleston, SC there were no riots in response to the evil that occurred. Instead, people came together and loved each other. I believe this is mainly due to how the family of the victims responded to the young man that forever changed their lives. They forgave him. They showed love to him.

I came across the story of a teen that, back in 1996, was willing to sacrifice herself to stop a mob beating of a man they believed to be a part of the KKK. Instead of joining in, or even standing by, she protected him. She showed love to him.

But what is LOVE? And who is our ENEMY? And what does this look like day to day?

Love defined:

attraction based on sexual desire
strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties
unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another

The bible describes love as:

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

There is a problem with “love” though, because it means something different to different people at different times and it can only be understood in certain ways within certain relationships. I’m not going to show love to a jerk at the grocery store the same way I need to show love to my three year old (who can also act like a jerk). And I’m not going to show love to the friend I just made the same way I show love to my hubby (that would be awkward).

In the case of the Charleston shootings, the families showed love by forgiving. The teen showed love by sacrificing. As a mother (especially those first couple of months) love is given with nothing in return. In a relationship with a spouse, it’s not uncommon to show love by being confrontational with a truth that they don’t want to hear. And sometimes (like with strangers and social media) we can show love by simply keeping our mouths shut.

This is where it gets even stickier. In a society where our closest “friend” is Facebook, we feel like we need to be honest and confrontational with “truth” claiming it is with the desire to show “love” (the definition of truth is a whole different topic). But that’s kinda like being confronted with how to parent your children by the clerk at Target. This actually happened to me, and you know what? It TICKED ME OFF!!! And now I avoid her line at all cost. So don’t be surprised if people start avoiding you because you are “lovingly” telling them that they are wrong.

Next question is, just who is our ENEMY?

Is it an abuser? A religious leader or organization? Rednecks? Conservatives? Liberals? The clerk at Target?

Back to the dictionary:

someone who hates another
someone who attacks or tries to harm another
something that harms or threaten someone or something
a group of people (such as a nation) against whom another group is fighting a war

To “love your enemy” does not mean that you agree with or condone the act that is offensive. It may mean that you have to forgive them (and possibly sever ties with them), or put aside your own wishes and sacrifice for them. Perhaps it means you confront them, or maybe you simply need to bite your tongue and not say anything.

But one thing that is perfectly clear, we must pray for them. Pray more than you speak. Or type.

Making Room for a Growing Family

Parent, Save, Stay SaneJune 12, 2015June 17, 2015

With our family (and my belly) growing, we needed to make some extra room for all these kiddos to be able to sleep and still have room to play. There is no better way to do this than with bunk beds! And nothing more fun! So we started looking around to see what our options were. Good Grief!!! They either felt like they were going to fall over, or I would have to sell my left kidney in order to afford it. Solution? Make it ourselves! I looked around for months on Pinterest to get ideas. Finally taking several features that I liked and compiling them to come up with our own plans. I’m quite proud of the result and am more than happy to share with you. At the end of this post I will give a list of supplies needed, but I’ll just go ahead and tell you the cost (because I can’t keep a secret when I’m excited). Grand total (including hardware, but not paint) was $219.30 (without tax). Isn’t that incredible?!?!? Bunk beds like this to be built would be about thousand bucks, no lie. And ours even have secret compartments.

First thing, if you have a ceiling fan, it’s gotta go. We don’t want any kiddos getting knocked in the head in the middle of the night.

This is the head board. It consists of:

2-2 x 10 x 8 ft boards (our ceilings are 9 ft, so we didn’t need to cut these)
5-2 x 6 boards cut to 38 inches
2-boards cut from plywood 9 inches x 38 inches
1-4 x 8 white hardboard cut to 38 inches x 88 inches

Here you can see the back of the headboard.

This is looking into what will be one of the hidden compartments.

This is the foot board. It consists of:

2-2 x 6 x 8 ft boards
3-2 x 6 boards cut to 41 inches

These are the side rails that will hold the mattresses. They consist of:

4-2 x 6 board cut to 85.75 inches
4-2 x 2 x 6 ft (these are what hold the platform for the mattress, please note that these are NOT centered)

These are the siderails that go at the very top.

2-2 x 6 boards cut to 85.75 inches

Here we have attached the side rails. This is definitely a two (or maybe three) person job. Make sure your rails are level!!

Here is the mattress platform resting on the 2 x 2’s. Please note that we did add 2 x 2’s at the head and foot as an afterthought because it was not sturdy enough.

2-4 x 8 OSB plywood cut to 40.75 x 75 inches, then cut notches at foot .75 x 5.5 inches

These are the bookshelf stairs to climb into the top bunk. It consists of:

1-2 x 12 board cut to 55 inches
1-2 x 12 board cut to 39.25 inches
1-2 x 12 board cut to 39.5 inches
1-2 x 12 board cut to 29.25 inches
1-2 x 12 board cut to 19 inches
1-2 x 12 board cut to 8.75 inches
4-2 x 12 boards cut to 11 7/8 inches

Once built, the stairs were attached to the bed with “L” brackets.

We also put bookshelves in the headboard. The bottom shelf was not as deep as to allow room for the hinges to make the hidden compartment. These consist of:

4-1 x 10 boards cut to 38 inches
2-1 x 10 board cut to 38 inches and then ripped to 7 inches

We of course added the all-important safety rail. It consists of:

1-2 x 4 board cut to 85.75
2-2 x 4 boards cut to 15 inches

All wood was purchased from Home Depot.

Extra things we added were the curtains, an LED battery powered touch light, and little fans.

The curtain rods and clips were from Target. The curtains I sewed myself. The inside fabric has a wonderful silver star pattern with a black background, from JoAnn Fabric. The lights (not seen) were from Lowes. The fans from Walmart.

All of the sections were primed and painted before final assembly. I used the same paint that was used on our trim throughout the house. It looks great, and I didn’t have to buy any additional paint.

Aren’t they great (if I do say so myself)!

Here’s the shopping list and price breakdown:

(12) 2 x 6 x 8 @ $5.28
(2) 2 x 10 x 8 @ $7.26
(2) 2 x 4 x 8 @ $2.92
(3) 2 x 2 x 8 @ $1.87
(2) 1 x 10 x 10 @ $22.26
(1) 4 x 8 white hardboard @ $8.98
(2) 4 x 8 OSB plywood @ $7.05
(3) 2 x 12 x 8 @ $8.59
(2) Hinges 2 pack @ $2.97
1 lb screws 3″ $7.94
1 lb screws 2.5″ $9.37
(5) “L” brackets 4 pack @ $2.67

Total: $219.30

Have fun!!

I’m a Failure

Parent, Stay SaneJune 3, 2015August 21, 2016

Life is full of trials and tribulations. We are constantly putting out one fire, only to turn around find another. Just when we think we have found our groove and that we have everything under control, the rug gets pulled out and we realize we never really had control in the first place. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Are you starting to get the point? Are you tired of my analogies yet? Probably, but I know that you know what I’m talking about because we have all experienced this.

Our trials can take many forms. An annoying co-worker, disobedient children, fussy babies, an illness, yet another bill that can’t be paid, a spouse that just doesn’t seem to get you. Whatever it is, all of us are struggling with something. The question is, how do we handle those times when we are being tested?

Here’s what happened…

Earlier in the year my hubby had to go out of town for work. And let me just say, I am super spoiled that this rarely happens. I have a dear friend whose husband travels all the time. I don’t know how she does it, it would make me lose my mind. I depend heavily on my hubby and I don’t mind admitting it. The Lord gives us the grace to handle all of our different situations I suppose. Anyhow…he left town Sunday afternoon. That evening was alright because my dad and step-mom were visiting and I was enjoying my time with them. That night however….

It started with the fact that I had a nasty cough and couldn’t get to sleep until around 12:30. At 3:45 I awoke to the sound of foot steps running down the hall. My older son came barging in telling me that my younger son was throwing up. Wonderful. I hurry and rush to their room to find my 3 year old sitting in a puddle of vomit. But here’s the thing, we had just made bunk beds for the boys and naturally my older son got the top bunk. My younger son is such a snuggle bug, that he would wait for his brother to fall asleep and then crawl into bed with him. So my poor older son was awoken with his little brother throwing up in his bed. And this poor, pregnant mama had to clean up the vomit on a top bunk.

When I got into the room I went in to triage mode. What had to be done first? What was most urgent? First I had to clean it off the floor. Gross. Then I got my son out of the bed, stripped him down, and put him in the bathroom to get cleaned up. Then I got my older son settled on the couch since his bed was ruined for the night. Younger son was settled into his bed. Then the clean up began. Seriously, trying to clean this up on the top bunk while almost 6 months pregnant was no easy task. At 4:15 I made it back to my bed, but not before walking full speed into the corner of the wall. I had a goose-egg and bruise on my forehead for a week. Once in bed, I hear my younger son up again. He wants to hug. And his belly hurts. Let’s go hug in the bathroom. After getting sick again, I went back to bed and prayed that my other son and I would be spared from whatever this was. I could not get sick, especially not with my hubby out of town. Sleep was pointless since I would have to wake up in less than an hour. The next day was sure to be interesting since my folks were going to be leaving and I would be on my own.

It was actually quite comical the amount of things that went wrong the first 24 hours my hubby was gone, but I was quite pleased with myself on how I was handling it. I was calm and compassionate with my boys. I was even able to get everything done that needed plus some.

It was the next day that I blew it. I had an all-out-3-year-old-style temper tantrum. And I knew in that moment that I failed. I failed the test that I was given. And this got me thinking. How could I not have failed? Were there steps or precautions that I could have taken? What about things I could tell myself to stay calm? Absolutely. I recognized that the hour before bedtime was my most challenging time of the day, so I gave myself a count down. I only had to stay calm for another 45 minutes. And I gave the boys a countdown. Ten minutes to clean up, ten minutes to get bathed, 2 minutes to brush teeth, and then read a book. Once I implemented the plan, the rest of the week went smoothly.

What I learned…

I decided that it was alright, maybe even necessary to fail. Without failing, we won’t know what needs to be changed. We won’t learn. We won’t grow. I still believe this to be true, but my lesson in failing wasn’t over. A few weeks later, I failed again. I was then challenged with the thought that I CAN’T pass the test. I will never, ever, ever get it right.

See, I believe there is such a thing as “sin” and wouldn’t you know it, we all suffer from it. The world is consumed with it actually. And even more of a bummer is that I can’t fix it on my own. But see, I also believe there is such a thing as “grace” and thankfully we all can access it. So, the next time I was presented with the test of rising anger while dealing with these selfish, inconsiderate, deceitful creatures (known as my children) I went into a quiet moment and thanked Jesus for the grace that was given to me because he bore my sin of losing my temper. And then I thanked Him for the Holy Spirit that promises to give us a spirit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and faithfulness. That’s the the mom, wife, and friend that I desire to be. It was then that I was able to go to my children and teach them and correct their behavior and show them love. It was then that I was, yet again, changed by grace.

I’m Being Kicked Out

Parent, Stay SaneMay 25, 2015

For the past 7 and a half years I have had the privilege of being a member of the all so desirable “Boy Mom” club. And I have enjoyed it immensely. Now, come August of this year, I will no longer be a member. Yes, I am having a girl. And to be quite honest I have had some mixed emotions about this. And then guilt for having not all excited emotions. Truly, I think most people have been more excited about me having a girl than I have been about having a girl.

The most appreciated comment I received came from a mom that had three boys, and then a girl. She told me that she cried when she found out. She absolutely, positively did not want a girl. I so appreciated her honesty, because I was feeling quite cruddy that I wasn’t excited. She then went on to share how much her life has been blessed by having her daughter. Honesty and encouragement. Doesn’t get any better.

So, being the ever analytical person that I am, I began to wonder what my problem was. Why was I dreading this? Why wasn’t I excited? What was I afraid of?

Sure, there is the obvious answer of, I’m just use to having boys. I understand that the fascination of their penis begins at the infant stage. I expect them to wrestle until someone cries on a daily basis. It’s nice that they don’t care if their clothes match. And that the best toys are a pile of dirt and a stick. But it went deeper than that.

There is the fact that I am a girl and know the difficulties of growing up being a girl. Obvious, I know, but it was hard at times, and now I’m going to have to go through all of that again with her. And that just doesn’t sound like fun to me. But I survived, and so shall she.

On a selfish note, I like being the only girl. The queen if you will. And I feel a bit like my territory is being invaded. That’s not a pleasant admission. That’s an outright selfish, sinful, Lord-please-forgive-me admission. So after that was dealt with, I still was feeling a bit hesitant to be excited.

The final thing I had to deal with was my insecurities as a parent. See, with boys I feel like I can pass a lot of the responsibilities on to my hubby. He’s a boy too, after all. And I think my hubby is pretty stinkin’ great. So logically, my boys will turn out great too. But a girl?!?!? Holy crap!! That’s too much pressure! I’m definitely going to screw her up, I just know it! And that terrifies the crap out of me! Oh, but wait. God knows me and He knows my daughter in my womb. And He knew that I was the one to be the mother to her.

Oh Lord, help me to be the mother You want me to be!

Love Multiplied

Parent, Stay SaneMay 1, 2015July 24, 2016

I recall a conversation from several years back that a few of my friends were having about how much they loved their children. At the time, they all only had one and I was expecting my second. They were making comments about how they couldn’t imagine loving another child as much as they loved the one they already had (they all have more children now, by the way). And this got me thinking. There is not a set amount of love that we have in life that we have to divide among those around us. Love does not subtract. It multiplies!

Right now in life I am expecting my third child and we are in the process of being able to foster-to-adopt a sibling group. We have been very open with our boys about all of this, and have encouraged many and all types of questions. We have tried to not sugar coat anything. I’ve talked with them about the importance of being able to do more things on their own because I may not be available. And how some of the house rules may not apply initially for the adopted children since they are adjusting to us and we are adjusting to them. But I’ve really wanted to stress to them that my love for them will not change, and in fact our house will be even more full of love. So I drew it out and told the love story of our family.

It went like this:

First, there was Dad and I. He loved me, I loved him. Love multiplied by two.

Then we had our first son. And our love began to grow. Love multiplied by six.

Then our second son was born. And our love doubled! Love multiplied by twelve.

Now, we have a baby sister on the way. (Gasp!). Love multiplied by twenty.

And when we have siblings join our family?
Well, love will be flowing out of every nook and cranny of our home.
Love multiplied by lots and lots and lots!

Isn’t this a great love story?!?!

xoxo

I Am THE Tooth Fairy

Parent, Stay SaneApril 19, 2015July 10, 2016

I try to tell it to my children pretty straight. I figure if I talk to them matter-of-factly, then things won’t be a big deal. We’ve talked about why Pop can’t have sugar (diabetes), why my mom is not alive (cancer), and what those balls of skin are on women (yep, breasts). But there are things that we lie about or lie via omission. Mainly because they wouldn’t understand, or we want to protect their innocence.

A big one for us (and lots of others) has been Santa Claus. I was torn on how to handle this. Growing up the youngest of four, I never had a chance to believe in Santa Claus. I did grow up learning about St. Nicholas and the things he did for others and how that turned into what we now know about Santa Claus. So I figured this is what we would do with our children. But then one Christmas, when my older son was not yet 4, he said on his own that his presents were from Santa. He was not in school, and we rarely watch tv. I was shocked at how easily he believed, and disappointed that he didn’t know the gifts were from us. Now I play into it, but I feel a little bad about it every year, knowing that he will be heartbroken when he finds out.

I was all prepared to draw the line with Ol’ Saint Nick. Then he started talking about the Easter bunny. What the heck! He caught me in a mischievous mood last year and I said, “I have a secret! Dad. He is the….Easter bunny! Shhh, don’t tell anyone!” And that seemed to actually go over pretty well. He actually thought that my husband turned into a rabbit and brought kiddos candy.

My son has now started to lose his baby teeth. It was a long time coming. He was the last in his class to lose a tooth. This tooth was driving me nuts. It was so loose that it would stick straight out. I kept trying to get him to let me pull it, but he wasn’t going for it. Understandably, it was the first tooth and he was nervous about what to expect. I told him that I just wanted to wiggle it (a lie) and I pulled that sucker outta there! I didn’t win any parenting awards that day. He was quite traumatized. Eventually he calmed down and got excited that he had finally lost his first tooth.

Then the fun really began.

“Mom is the tooth fairy real?” Well, crap.

“What do you think?” Smooth, right?

“I don’t think she is.” This might not be so bad.

“Do you really want to know?” Should have stopped while I was ahead.

“Yes.” No! Don’t say it!

“The tooth fairy is not real.” Absolute heartbreak, massive tears, loud sobbing. “You said you didn’t think she was real!” Way to put it on the kid.

“But I wanted her to be!” Crap, now what.

“Okay, well maybe I’m wrong.” Way to really confuse the kid.

“Maybe you just haven’t seen her.” Sure.

“You’re going to believe whatever it is you want to believe.” Like I said, no parenting awards that day.

Of course that night I put a quarter under his bed. But not until I got dressed up. I thought, what if he wakes up. Then he’s going to blame me that I didn’t give the tooth fairy a chance to show up. So I put on a white skirt, a white tank top, white gloves, white scarf, and a tiara (everyone has white gloves and a tiara, right). With my pregnant belly, I was quite the site to behold. Ahh, the things we do for our kiddos. He of course did not wake up, but I did enjoy dressing up. The next morning he came out of his room in absolute triumph, “See mom! I told you she was real!” Sigh.

The next tooth he lost, I was feeling bold and didn’t dress up. I went in his room and started feeling around under his pillow. Stink! I couldn’t find it. I finally find it and he wakes up with my face about 8 inches from his. Quick! Think of another lie! “Are you ok? You were crying. It’s ok, go back to sleep.” Whew, that was a close one!

The next day he asked me if I was the one putting money under his pillow. I told him that I had told him the truth before, but he didn’t want to hear it. But that I had another secret for him. “I am the tooth fairy. Why do you think I became a dental hygienist. It’s my undercover disguise.” Clever, yes?

The third tooth he lost while we were having s’mores and he didn’t even know he had lost it. Not sure if it’s in the yard, or if he swallowed it.

“Mom, will I still get money even if I don’t have a tooth to put under my pillow?” Now it’s getting fun.

“This is an unusual situation, I’ll have to check my official ToothFairy Handbook to confirm protocol.”

That night, I just forgot to put the quarter under the pillow. The next morning I handed him the quarter and said, “I checked the rules, and it states that the tooth fairy can just hand you the money since there was no tooth to collect.” Parenting award granted.

At St. Patricks day he started talking about Leprechauns being real. Good grief. So I told him that his little brother was a leprechaun. Can you guess what we will all be dressing up as for halloween this year?

Dear Dog Owners, I Get It

Parent, Stay SaneFebruary 23, 2015

The most inconvenient thing happened. We got a dog. Wasn’t wanting a dog. Don’t need a dog. But alas, here I am typing with a dog pressed up against my arm. Which makes typing, in addition to other things, a bit more challenging.

Now, it’s not that I’m not a “dog person”. I grew up with a dog. And a cat, and a horse, and cows, and at one point my brother had birds and fish. But I have over the last several years found dogs to be quite annoying and would say that if I had to choose, I would prefer to be a “cat person”. Dogs smell, cats don’t (just the litter box). Dogs bark (like all the flippin time), cats purr. You don’t have to go out in freezing weather to walk your cat. Cats are independent, you can leave them for days at a time if you set out enough food. So, yes, I was more of a “cat person”. In fact, we had a cat until we moved to South Carolina. My sweet (and possibly insane, like myself) sister-in-law offered to keep our cat while we made our transition. I wasn’t sure how it would go since they were adding the cat to a household of 3 kids, 1 dog, and 1 existing feline. But they blended beautifully. They were attached to her and she was attached to them and I didn’t want to mess anything up, so they have her permanently now. And this has been fine other than the occasional comment from my older son that he wants to get her back.

Then, a little over a year ago, a week and a half after moving into our house we had a bit of an incident. The boys were in the front of our house playing on the driveway when I could hear my younger son crying. Now, he had just turned 2 and honestly cried all the time, so i didn’t run outside at first. But then it sounded like a hurt cry. As I was walking to the door I heard my older son yelling, “mom, mom! we need help!” I will never get the image out of my head of our neighbors 60 lb. dog standing over my 30 lb. son lying face down on the concrete. This dog had a vicious growl and bark, and I have never been so terrified in my life. As I was running toward the dog screaming and waving my arms, I was thinking to myself that I wish I had grabbed my sons t-ball bat, because I was going to beat the SH!T out of that dog. The dog backed away enough for me to grab my son and all of us ran as fast as we could to get back into the house. It wasn’t until we got inside that I realized my son was bleeding. He had been bitten on top of his head.

As a mother, you have moments where you enter super human mode and can remain eerily calm in a moment of crisis. Well, this was not one of them. I was in an absolute panic, so I called my husband, who called the neighbor, who of course was not home. Then I called another neighbor to see what I needed to do. I needed someone to think for me and act for me. And she did exactly that. She came right over, got the boys and myself into her car and drove us to the emergency room. It could have been so much worse. Like way worse. Like, I don’t even want to think about how much worse. The icing on our cake was that the dog’s rabies vaccine was not current, so our son had to go through a preventative treatment for it which consisted of a shot on either side of each puncture wound (8 total), a series of 4 immunization injections, and an oral antibiotic.

After that, it’s fair to say that I no longer trusted dogs. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them, or thought they were all bad, but I learned that no one thinks their dog will hurt someone until it happens. (On a side note, our neighbors took care of the dog and all medical bills). I think my older son and I were the ones most effected by this event. My youngest son acted like nothing ever happened. I don’t want any of my children to live with fear, so I knew that one day we would need to get a dog. Didn’t think it would be now. When I’m pregnant. And going through the fostering-to-adopt process.

Here’s how it happened. Last week we were cleaning up from dinner and my hubby says, “there’s a little white dog walking down the street.” See, we live out in the country and we see all sorts of animals, but a dog alone on a dead end road was a bit odd. So he went out to see if the dog had a collar with a tag. No collar. I made my mistake by picking her up. I was a goner before we got her in the house. I know, I know, how could I have brought this stray dog in the house. It could have fleas or worms (she didn’t) or pee (she did) or just be really dirty (she was). But we had really bad winter weather coming and we didn’t think she would survive, so she slept in the laundry room that night. She had long hair that was matted so badly it was the size of my hand and to her skin. But she was so happy, and so sweet, and so playful. We all fell in love with her that night. The next morning I took her to a vet to get scanned to see if see had a microchip. No chip = new pet for us. We got her vaccinated, and then off to the groomer. Three hours later, she was as sassy as could be, living up to her new name of Miss Scarlet.

It’s been an adjustment. We are having to re-house train her and are trying to figure out a good sleeping arrangement, but I don’t have any regrets. I use to think those bumper stickers that said “Who Adopted Who?” were dumb and corny, but now I kind of get it. I feel like she adopted us. Turns out I’m kinda a “dog person” afterall.

Photo credit Andre Spieker

Surrender

Stay SaneFebruary 11, 2015February 11, 2015

When I started this series I had in mind what I wanted to say for this final post. But over the past two weeks I have struggled to know how much to share, and unsure if I will be able to express the main point. But here it goes, wish me luck.

Once we moved to South Carolina life was good. I finally felt like I understood what it meant to be living life abundantly (John 10:10). I was finally able to be a stay-at-home mom to our wonderful two boys. I was able to run and bike and swim on a regular basis. I was making wonderful new friends. I was learning and investing at our church. Good, good stuff. Then one Sunday we went to church and life suddenly became very complicated.

Our church was doing a sermon series about the fact that our lives are worship, and all lives have value. From the unborn to the elderly, life is to be cherished. There was a video that was shown that had clips from South Korea showing these box-like things (think big blue post office mailbox) where women could put their unwanted babies. Now, this sounds crude, but we actually provide the same (needed) service here in America. Women can take their unwanted babies, no questions asked, to a hospital, or fire station, or police station. But something about this video shattered my heart. On the way home my husband asks the question, “Soooo, what are you thinking?” I shocked him with, “I think we need to adopt.” That is where this journey began a little over a year ago.

I had never, NEVER, had an interest in adoption. I thought it was a great thing; for other people, that is. But not for us. We were happy to be done with having kids. Ready to move on and have new adventures with our two great guys. Alas, that was not the case. So we talked about international adoption. We have several friends who have done this and I think it’s great, but that wasn’t what we felt was right for us. We talked about domestic adoption. But I felt like, if we wanted another baby we would have another baby. So we talked about fostering. But we thought that would be too hard on our children that get attatched to people so easily. We settled on adopting a young child (or children) that was currently in the foster system. This is known as fostering to adopt, and we are currently working with DSS.

This decision was by no means decided on lightly. First we went to an informational meeting at our church for people interested in adoption. In the class, we were the only ones that went to get information. Everyone else had already adopted and were there to provide support. It was as if there was a panel set up just for us to ask questions. There was a family that adopted a baby from China. A family that adopted a four year old from Belarus. A lady that went through a domestic adoption, as well as fostering other children. All of them had biological children first. Then we spent 3 months just talking about it among ourselves and with The Lord. After that I finally got the courage to call an agency to get the process started. We ended up deciding not to work with this agency, but I will never forget what this lady told me. She said, “now that you have made this decision you are going to start to meet random people that have done foster to adopt, and that is just The Lord providing encouragement for you along this journey.” Oooooo-kaaaaay, I thought, that’s weird. Well sure enough, three days later at my sons tennis class, there was a new mom there and she was telling me about her son. “He’s adopted” she said. I responded with, “really? I would love to hear your story if you don’t mind sharing.” “Not at all” she said, “well, we did foster to adopt.” Of course they did!! I just started laughing and explained to her that we were considering to do that as well. Since then I have indeed met several people who had walked this road before us, some of which have become instrumental to us by encouraging and praying for us on a regular basis.

During this decision making process, something else happened. We got the baby bug which resulted in me getting pregnant which resulted in miscarriage. I was angry, and sad, and all those emotions that come with the loss of life, but it was alright. We decided that it was time to move ahead with the adoption process. So the application was filled out, and sent in. It was the craziest feeling. It truly felt like I had just gotten a positive pregnancy test. I was excited, and ~~scared~~ terrified, and just hoping that it would “stick”. And then I started to love. Just like an expecting mother loves the baby in her womb even though she doesn’t know him/her, I started to love this child/children that are out there. And that love has developed into a yearning to meet them and know them and pour our love into them.

So we went to orientation, got fingerprinted, filled out the ridiculously difficult application, and are currently going through training. This process has changed and is changing us. It has changed how I see my relationship with The Lord.

How blessed is God! And what a blessing he is! He’s the Father of our Master, Jesus Christ, and takes us to the high places of blessing in him. Long before he laid down earth’s foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) He wanted us to enter into the celebration of his lavish gift-giving by the hand of his beloved Son. Ephesians 1:3-6, The Message

It has changed me as a mother. Learning to be patient, and give grace to these little people that God has placed in my care. And finally, I have been learning how to surrender. To give up this idea I have of living a simple, stress-free, I-don’t-want-to-be-bothered kind of life. I want to live a life that has purpose. Two years ago I could not have even considered doing this. My soul was depleted. I was struggling to keep my head above the water, and I felt like I was suffocating. Over the past year and a half, The Lord has filled my cup overflowing, and He has given us such an awesome desire to serve Him by loving and serving His little children. He has led me to “where my trust is without borders.”

Oh, and I’m 14 weeks pregnant.

This is the 4th and final post on a series about Faith, Trust, Surrender.