Category Archives: parenting (aint for sissies)

times they are a changin – Part 2

Posted in blogging, Eucharisteo, fear, grace, parenting (aint for sissies) by

1 year ago, I started this blog. I started it as a way to clear all the thoughts in my head. I started it as a means of documenting (and saving for our future) family memories written out in stories and pictures. I started it as a way to share the laughter of our home that is sometimes just so contagious it can’t help but be spread… and because it would really be a crime to keep it just to ourselves. I started it as a way of redemption. Turning our sorrows and hurt and anger and sin into God’s glory. And I started it as a way to heal my soul and to maybe – just maybe – help heal someone else’s in the process.

1 month ago, I wrote this post: times they are a changin – Part 1* about big changes for each member of the family (except me.) “Part 1” indicating – obviously – there would a Part 2 (my changes) to follow. Part 2 didn’t come. Not right away, at least.

*Quick update on Part 1: Jacob is fully potty trained. Done. With. Diapers. And still seriously cute. Annalise’s tooth fell out and the new one has started to scoot forward into place. (Phew.) She, too, is still seriously cute. Izzy’s tooth-and-other-parts-removal was a success, and she is now a much more tolerable mutt. Most of the time. And Matt’s business changes continue. Awesome new website. Check it out!… Later. First finish reading.

Sometimes, there are thoughts in my head that grow and fester and have to be written down before they disappear. Or so I can get some sleep. Other times, they need to stay. Marinate a while. To develop fully, or at least just develop more. The Part 2 post was one of the latter.

My thoughts about the heart changes I referenced in “Part 1” were reflections on New Year’s thoughts. You know the story: End of year comes. I avoid making resolutions that I know will last for maybe a week and promises to myself that I will break in as short of a time. So instead, I decide to spend time reflecting on the past year.

I don’t know about you, but the second I begin reflecting on the past year – or really, the past anything – I instantly focus on all the things I didn’t do. All the ways I wasn’t a good friend, wife, mother, daughter, sister, co-worker, teacher. All the opportunities I didn’t take, the weight I didn’t lose (or lost and gained) and all the times I didn’t measure up. And yes, I also think about the things I did do. I did lose my patience with the kids too many times. I did snap at them and my husband. I did waste time in countless ways. (Um, hello, Facebook.) I did run late. Nearly. every. day. I did fail in a million other ways.

So reflecting on the past year – or past anything – isn’t always such a great idea for me. I’d say it actually kind of sucks. It tends to put me in a funk. The longer the period of time I’m reflecting on (and beating myself up over), the greater and longer-lasting the funk. This particular funk lasted about 3 days. For 3 straight days, I felt sorry for myself. I felt useless. Forgettable. Insignificant. In some ways, helpless. And in every way, a failure. Anxious and fearful of more failures to come.

During this 3-day-pity-party I devoted all my time and energy into… doing puzzles. Matt thought I was just enjoying the end of my Christmas vacation by relaxing. In actuality, I was trying to turn my brain away from having to think about anything except I need a piece with horizontal white stripes that has 3 outies and one innie.*

*Side-note here: I’m a puzzle pro. Seriously. Two 500 piecers and one 1000 piecer complete in three days… Um, yeah, it was a serious funk. And while not much else got done around here, I’m pretty sure the kids were fed. And I showered almost all of those 3 days.

But then, at the end of my 3-days, I had a moment of clarity. A thought that was a break in the clouds: “As long as they remember seeing Jesus.”

In that one moment, the clouds lifted and the truths I know came flooding into my mind. “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ.” No guilt for things done or not done. “I am significant, accepted, and secure in Christ.” No more pity-parties about being insignificant and forgettable. “I am God’s child, and I am complete in Christ.” No more feeling like a failure. In Him I am complete, and He loves me completely.

And then, the thought again. “As long as they remember seeing Jesus.” My job. This is my job. However successful the world sees me, whatever my accomplishments, what I do (or don’t do) matters little if while I’m doing it (or not doing it) I’m not reflecting HIM. How people remember ME is insignificant. How they remember HIM is of eternal significance. “As long as they remember seeing Jesus. I WANT MY LIFE TO COUNT.”

For the first time in years, I made a New-Year’s resolution. Let them see Jesus. The heart-changes were beginning, but the words to write not-yet formed.

The following Sunday, our pastor shared a message that was intended just for me. I’m certain of it…

Sermon title “A Cause Worth Living For.”

Sermon point number 1: The Gospel magnifies the heart of God. In my written notes, a quote from the sermon: “We have come to know the Heart of God. And we owe it to those who don’t yet know to tell them.” Again I think, let them see Jesus. How will they know of His goodness, His grace, His mercy, His unending love if they don’t see Jesus. Oh, if they only knew!

There were a couple other points, but my sermon notes page is mostly full of chicken-scratched-heart-changing-thoughts-turned-words-now-formed:

  • When I am anxious and fearful – even of my future failures – I rob God of the trust He is due.
  • LET THEM SEE JESUS. What does it matter about me? AS LONG AS THEY SEE JESUS. HIS GRACE.
  • I WANT MY LIFE TO COUNT.
  • The Holy Spirit wants to invade our lives my life with His power. JUST LET HIM.

And our church’s scripture memory verse for the month, handed out that day: But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God. ~ Acts 20:24 ESV

Point taken. Message received. My job: Let them see Jesus.

But who? Who is them? For the next few weeks, I made a mental list of all the major “thems” in that sentence. My kids. My husband. Serve them. Love them. Show them patience and grace. Be intentional with the kids – why we’re doing what we do. My students. I cannot speak of God’s love, but I can show them. Show them more love and grace than they’ve ever known. Neighbors. Co-workers. Friends. Grocery clerks. 

In my mind, I’ve screamed, “But it’s not enough. My students – I can’t tell them. My husband and kids – they already know. There are too many others. Too many that don’t know. I’m not doing enough.”

Yes, there are others. But for now, I am here. I am a mom of two littles. I am a teacher of 27 slightly biggers. I am a wife. I don’t have a whole lot of time to reach a whole lot more. This is where God has me right now.

My job: Let them see Jesus. My kids. My husband. My students. And any others I may be blessed to encounter. Show them Jesus.

This is where I settled my thoughts just 2 weeks ago.

And a few days later, a friend pointed out that my blog often brought a message of hope. YES! A means to reach more. I got excited, inspired! I post. People read. Lots more than I ever thought would. And even if my parents are half of the clicks on this blog, there are still many, many more than I imagined. I don’t even know some of you! Yet, you read. Maybe God has brought you here! Maybe here you will see a bit of the love and grace and mercy of an incredible God who loves YOU so much more than you could imagine!

My thoughts further settled here. Just a week and a half ago…

But then a few days later, something happened. Something happened that made me so fearful, I took it all down. I hid all the love and joy and stories of God’s grace, and I wept and locked all the doors and closed all the blinds and held my kids tight and shook-with-anger-but-mostly-with-fear. And I decided I would not post again. It was not worth it.

Sisters called and loved. Family came and prayed. Friends told me they understood, but they’d miss reading of the laughter and the joy, and of God’s love.

And while I still shook-with-anger-but-mostly-with-fear, something else happened. Two horrible somethings that left me trembling. Left me wanting to hide. Left me hating this world and many of the people in it.

And then today my husband, my husband who shook-with-fear-but-mostly-with-anger right beside me, reminded me that even those who caused me to fear need to see the love of God. Even they are God’s children. Yes, He loves even them. And our children, they are His children, too. And just as our dear family that came to pray reminded us, HE is also THEIR God.

And our God is sovereign.

More truths flooded my heart. Yes, flooded. I battle fear often. I’ve read these truths a time or two-hundred. They come to mind more quickly now: (see full list below, emphasis my own)

I have NOT been given a spirit of FEAR, but of power, and of love, and of a sound-mind. ~ 2 Timothy 1:7

…I will fear no evil, for YOU are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me… ~ Psalm 23:4

The LORD is my light and my salvation– whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life– of whom shall I be afraid? ~ Psalm 27:1

Thoughts whirling in my head: Let them see Jesus. Do not be afraid.

And then my husband – who I’m fairly certain based on lots of circumstantial evidence cannot read the thoughts in my head – said to me, “You don’t know who might see Jesus when they read.”

times they are a changin’: Part 2…  I have a new job: Let them see Jesus.

And so, with still-very-shaky-legs I stand on the firm foundation of Christ and use this space, what He has provided me – at least for the moment – to magnify His heart. Some of you already know of His great love for you. Some of you don’t. Either way, I hope you keep reading.

And I pray you see Jesus.

*More Biblical truths about fear that I am clinging to:

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. ~ Deuteronomy 31:6

When I am afraid, I will trust in you.  In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me? ~ Psalm 56:3-4

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. ~ Isaiah 41:10

No weapon formed against us will prosper, No evil formed against us shall stand. ~ Isaiah 54:17

For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to make it obedient to Christ. ~ 2 Corinthians 10:3-5

And to two of you – you know who you are – I am doing what you said. I am bathing in Psalm 91. You are such a gift to us.

What’s that you say?

Posted in blogging, Eucharisteo, joy found, laughter, my boy, my girl, parenting (aint for sissies) by

Several friends have said they’d like to be a fly on the wall in our house, just to see what goes on around here. It’s mostly mundane life, kids playing then fighting then playing again, mom and dad having conversations about our jobs or future or parenting or what’s for dinner, Annalise making up songs about Jesus or Jacob or Izzy or anything else she can think of, etc etc etc. Nothing too exciting. But since some of you asked, I thought I’d deliver just a sneak peek by way of things overheard this week…

Jacob: “Mommy! You HAVE to come SEE dis! It is SOOOOO CUTE! It is (insert high-pitched squeaky voice) da teeniest-tiniest littliest poopoo I ever saw! (insert normal voice) Oh mom, it’s SO cute you won’t believe it!”

Annalise (after bumping into me): “Mom? Can you touch Jesus? … Because I thought I just did, but turns out it was just your bottom.”

Jacob: “MOMMY! You have GOT TO SEE DIS! It is da BIGGEST POOPOO EVER!” Seriously. This is all he talks about lately.

Annalise (after seeing naked brother bend over from behind): “MOMMY! OH NO! Jacob has a HUGE GROWTH on his bottom!”a

Jacob: “Mommy. Can you please leave the baf-room? I want some pwivacy.”

Annalise: “Mommy, can you please leave the bathroom? I want some privacy.”

(I only put those ones in there because of the irony. They don’t seem to know what privacy is when I’m in the bathroom.)

… And right now you’re wondering if any conversations go on around here that are not about “poopoo” or “bottoms” or other forms of bathroom-talk… Yes, I know. Some days I wonder that, too.

There are the random comments like these:

Annalise: “Mommy, the Weedas have 3 girls and 2 boys, but we just have 2 girls and 2 boys… (with excitement) What if YOU had another baby and it was a girl? Then we’d be just like the Weedas!… (with dread) What if you had another baby and it was a boy! Then we’d have three BOYS!… (with excitement again) What if you had another baby and it was a CHICKEN!”

Or the random happenings like these:

photo(37)Annalise stuck in a long narrow box. Because it’s fun. Until your brother starts to play with your toys and you can’t get out.

photo(36)He had the hiccups. ALL. DAY. I read somewhere that this was supposed to help. It didn’t. I pulled harder and held longer. Still didn’t.

And then there are the never-ending-actually-NOT-funny jokes:

Jacob to Leesie: “Sissy. I have a joke. Why wasn’t da clown hungwy?”

Leesie: “Because he ate his breakfast?”

Jacob: “No. Because he ate his lunch. I have another joke. Why wasn’t da clown hungwy?”

Leesie: “Because he ate his lunch?”

Jacob: “No. Because he was full. I have another joke. Why wasn’t the clown hungwy?”

Leesie: “Because he was full?”

Jacob: “No. Because he ate his bweakfast. I have another joke…”

And on and on and on and on…

And the constant “what ifs” from both kids:

Jacob: “Mommy, what if we took Izzy for a walk, and den it started to rain, and den we got all wet, and den da rain turned into juice and we got all wet wif juice, and den we came home all sticky and got da house all sticky wif juice too. What if, Mommy?”

Annalise: “Mommy, what if I growed taller than you, and then I growed taller than Daddy, and then I growed taller than the house, and then I growed taller than a tree, and then I growed all the way to the sky and I never stopped growing?”

Bathroom-talk, bad-jokes, what-ifs, and then this…

At the dinner table the other night, Annalise asked if brothers and sisters can get married. When we told her no, her reaction surprised us. She wasn’t happy, but wasn’t upset in the 5-year-old sense (no drama, tantrums, or mini-fit with crossed arms and a loud “HUMPH!”) No, her reaction was much more sincere. Much more mature. Her eyes filled with tears, her chin began to quiver, and she looked away, thinking about this news that was so obviously devastating to her. Her big, teary eyes looked back at me, and she swallowed hard then choked out in a whisper, “But Mommy. I just love my brother so much. I don’t want to marry anyone else!” I giggled, but my eyes filled with tears, too. How blessed we are that they are so close! And my heart hurt for hers, because the sadness she displayed was so deep. She just didn’t understand.

Then sweet Jacob. My sweet tender-hearted boy. Tilted his head and looked at his sister lovingly. And in his sweetest kindest voice, as if he were a wise grown-up giving a gentle explanation to a hurting young child, he said, “Oh Sissy. I love you, too. But I can not marry you, because I am going to play FOOTBALL!”

And there you have it, folks. The boy is not going to get married, because he is going to play football. No arguments from Mama. (Until I see him crashing out on the football field, of course.) And just a few weeks earlier, Annalise told her Daddy that she “would NEVER kiss a boy until she is married.” I’m pretty sure he got her signature on a legal document for that one.

I think I may have said it before, but can we please just freeze them? We are having too much fun. Bathroom-talk and all. And I’ll take all the what-ifs and lame jokes in the world if I can just keep getting the snuggles and hearing their perfect giggles that can’t help but bring a smile to your face. What joy fills my heart.

Alas, I know they will grow older. But we will enjoy the moments we have today, and we will be thankful for the blessings God has given us. And when they grow, we will love and enjoy the “older” versions of them. Thankful for these good and perfect gifts from the Father of Heavenly lights. And thankful that while they will change and grow, and while we continue to change, He does not change. And He has put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound. ~ Psalm 4:7

Outsmarted by a 2 year old

Posted in Food Stuff, friends, laughter, my boy, parenting (aint for sissies) by

Some of you may have already read on Facebook how Jacob outsmarted me tonight at dinner. I had to post it on here as well, because this is where I collect the stories I want to remember. So I’m really posting this for me. And for those of you that missed it…read on!

Posted Wednesday night, 1/23/13, approximately 7 PM:

Here’s the deal. I simply do NOT understand a boy who covers his face so I don’t see the boogers he’s eating, joyfully eats dirt, and has ‘discussed’ the possibility of finding out what poo is like… but will NOT EAT the meal I make for him. This time, it was a meal he’s eaten a hundred times before. He won’t eat it, because he claims it “looks different” than usual. Complete-massively-hysterical-two-year-old-tantrum over the way the meal LOOKS. And JUST ATE A BOOGER.

Seriously, people. Help me understand.

P.S. We have had serious discussions about the dangers in trying poo. I think he’s finally over it.

Posted Wednesday night, 1/23/13, approximately 1 hour later:

In reference to Jacob not eating his dinner (see last post), I tried games. Reverse psychology. Bribery. Trickery. Punishment. I’ve now resorted to manipulation. I “called” the beautiful and talented Julianne Seely, who said that yes, she definitely thought Jacob should eat his food, and she would be so proud of him if he did. (Thanks, Julianne, for being so supportive.) Jacob smiled. “She DID?” I nodded.

The little bugger pulled out a calculator and “called Julianne” as well. “Hi Julianne. I AM NOT eating my dinner, because it is GROSS. K. Bye.” Then he looked at me and said, “Mommy, Julianne said it’s ok. She doesn’t like gross food either. And she is still proud of me.”

Mom: 0, Jacob: 1

Parenting for Dummies

Posted in family outings, laughter, my boy, my girl, my husband, parenting (aint for sissies) by

Did I say for?   With. I meant with.

Welcome to Parenting with Dummies…

Lemme just give you a little picture of what Fridays look like with us folks who don’t use our heads:

  • After several days with a sick boy, ship him off to a full day at the babysitter. (He seems better, so it doesn’t seem like a bad idea.)
  • Run late (as usual.) Throw a mini-fit on the way out the door about not having time to get coffee or breakfast.
  • Drop attitude and turn on sweetness when the kind Hubs shows up with a latte and breakfast sandwich before students arrive.
  • Take two sips, calm thyself down, and get back to work.
  • Dump coffee over test booklets and materials for the day’s math/art lessons. Lovely.
  • Keep smiling, because at least there is food in stomach now, and about 1/3 a cup of coffee left. And still 5 minutes to clean up and gather new supplies before 28 smiling faces enter.
  • Continue school day as usual while hoping and praying the boy isn’t too tired and cranky for the babysitter.
  • Realize there are TWO 5-year old birthday parties to go to on Saturday, it is now Friday, and you have no gifts.
  • Plan to have a fun “Family Date Night” after picking up kids… dinner out, buy gifts, home to snuggle and read books before bed. Perfect.
  • Head out to babysitter’s. Confirm plans with the Hubs. He’s on board.
  • Pick up kids, find out the boy isn’t feeling up to par. Consider staying home for the night altogether or just heading out myself.
  • Decide to keep Family Date Night a go… Just a quick dinner and a stop at Target. No big deal, right? We’ll be back in no time. (Crucial error #1).
  • Stop at home to pick up dad and potty the family… including the boy and the dog. So proud of the big boy doing such a great job, decide to keep him in big boy undies instead of pull-ups. After all, it’s just a quick dinner and a stop at Target. No big deal, right? We’ll be back in no time. (Crucial error #2).
  • Dog in kennel, head out for a fun night. Time: 5:30
  • Pull up to Red Robin, realize it’s Friday night, and park half way to the mall. Given wait time: 25 minutes. No biggie. We can handle it. Just a few extra minutes to our fun night.
  • Giggle when my girl says to me, “Mommy, the girl keeps saying someone’s name, then ‘Party of 4.’ How come everyone is here for a party but us?” Tell her, “Oh, but we ARE here for a party! It’s a family party! Don’t believe me? Wait until she calls our name. She’ll say, ‘Matt? Party of 4?'” (Actual wait time: about 15 minutes… thanks to several parties that no-showed.)
  • Enjoy a free dinner at Red Robin courtesy of the Schulz family. Thanks, Dee and Gary! 🙂
  • Just as we’re finishing up, notice a red-faced boy with a panicked look. “Mommy! I went poopoo in my pants!”
  • Begin to panic while the Hubs tries to keep the situation calm and the boy from feeling worse than he already does.
  • Gather thyself. Grab purse and help boy out of booth and through restaurant, walking slowly and gingerly. Me, I mean. He walks wide-legged like a cowboy, talking about the poop all the way out.
  • Hustle to the car, hoping and praying you left the diaper bag in there from the babysitter’s. Try not to think about what you’ll have to do if you didn’t. Nearly slip on the ice. That was a close one. The boy does slip on the ice. Catch him just before poopy bottom hits pavement, and keep hurrying in the freezing cold.
  • Get to van and discover diaper bag. Thank you, Jesus. 
  • Spend 2 minutes opening every door trying to figure out the best location for taking care of business. Decide on front passenger seat. Determine this is a better location than walking from way out in the lot back to the restaurant bathroom. Crucial error #3.
  • Take off the boy’s shoes and pants. Learn the mess is contained in his undies. Jeans are clean. Say a quick prayer of thanks.
  • Remember the almost-fall on the ice that would have surely un-contained the mess. Say another quick prayer of thanks.
  • Decide that just in case things go bad, you’d better take off the boy’s socks, too. He’s already complaining of the freezing cold while standing in his undies, socks, and sweatshirt. Start car and get some heat going on him.
  • Take off socks and begin to precariously take off undies. Realize the mess may be messier than originally thought. Throw doggie blanket under the boy just in case.
  • Pull off underwear before forming a plan for where to put messy undies and where to position poopy boy so as to clean him. Crucial error #4.
  • Make several more crucial errors that result in the once contained poop smearing on both of the boy’s legs, both (thankfully bare) feet, doggie blanket (sorry, Izzy), and dropping with a smack on first the car door runner, then finally into one large clump on pavement.
  • Stare in amazement, wondering how contained poop can become so… uncontained.
  • Stare at my own now poopy hand holding poopy undies and other hand steadying freezing-poopy-naked-boy and wonder how I’m going to clean up this mess without stepping or kneeling in poop or giving the poor boy frostbite in places we’d rather not mention.
  • Get to work. Fast. With freezing cold wet-wipes.
  • Decide that with no garbage in sight and nothing in the car to act as such, the best way to handle the entire poopy mess is to roll it into a bazillion wet wipes and shove it in the side-door pocket until a bag is available.
  • Use every last bloomin’ wet wipe cleaning ever last poopy surface. Roll up the mess as best as possible and stick with door pocket plan.
  • After spending way too much time outside, head back into the restaurant with frozen boy, wondering why the other half of the family hasn’t joined us outside yet. Dinner was over when we left, after all.
  • Scrub with soap and as hot of water as we can handle.
  • Come back to table, only to discover bill has not yet been paid, because I had the gift cards with me in my purse. Which is now in the car. Which is half way to the mall.
  • The Hubs says he’ll run and get the purse. And when he gets back, he’ll pay the bill, because I need to take the female child to the bathroom. She has to go poopoo too.
  • Hubs returns with disgusted look. “Did everything go ok when you were taking care of Jacob??? Because the entire car smells like POOP!”
  • Smile. Say yes. Take the girl to the very full bathroom. Go in stall with her, even though she asks for privacy. Crucial error number… I don’t know. I’ve lost count.
  • Die of embarrassment as she talks loudly about bathroom stuff. Ask her to please be quiet and focus on her job. Die even more when she says even louder, inciting giggles from the stall next to us, “Ok, Mom. You’re right. It’s really hard to talk and push the poopoo out at the same time.”
  • Wash hands and get the heck out of there as quickly as possible. Only not too quickly, because the keys are lost. Not in my purse. Not in the bathroom. Not at the table. Not in anyone’s pockets.
  • While the Hubs checks the table for the second time, remember smelly car we are trying to get into. Ask one of the employees for a bag to dispose of leftover mess. Say a quiet prayer of thanks that even though this is Bellingham, someone has a plastic bag to give me. Even if it is a ginormous outdoor trash bag. It’ll work.
  • Leave Red Robin at about the time we intended on getting home.
  • Head to Target to do the one thing we actually came to Bellingham to do.
  • Head home. Bathe overly tired boy. Spray and wipe down car.
  • Send kids to bed much later than planned, with no books or snuggle time.
  • Determine pull-ups may be a better choice for public outings for a few weeks. Time: 10:00pm.

8 of No-Longer-40: Breaking News

Posted in Eucharisteo, grace, joy found, laughter, my boy, my girl, parenting (aint for sissies) by

So, you may have noticed I didn’t make it to my 40 days of Faith, Family, and Funnies (and Friends, which I added later.) Or maybe you didn’t notice because you hid me on Facebook after I posted a link to my blog each day for 7 days.

Either way, here I am, attempting Day 8…3 Days Late.

The actual “Day 8” was Monday. Monday is a day off for me. I never got around to writing, though, because on this particular “day off,” I:

  • Corrected the last of my math and science assessments, which were on my to-do list from Saturday but didn’t get touched because of some unforeseen circumstances Saturday and a jam-packed-but-fun Sunday
  • Entered grades into 28 report cards
  • Met with my job-share partner and attempted report card comments
  • Did laundry and other household chores
  • Took the dog to the vet for a check-up/immunizations and to be groomed
  • And last but not least, taught my adorable children why it’s not okay to tell each other angry phrases using inappropriate language.

That last one wasn’t on my original to-do list, but sometimes circumstances require adjusting our plans. You can only imagine the circumstances that led to that addition to my list…

In summary: one learned from a friend all about hell, taught the other, and then they both felt the need to use their new found knowledge in discerning whether the behaviors of their sibling were going to lead them there or not. I quickly interrupted the conversation and used it as an opportunity to teach important life lessons. i.e. You should not say things like, “If you don’t stop standing on my box, you’ll go to hell.” Which lead to replies like, “I am NOT going to hell. YOU go to hell.”

The discussion was overheard in the monitor (yes, we still have one, for moments such as this), and initiated a conversation I didn’t think I’d ever have with a 2 and 5-year old. Our conversation included phrases from Annalise like, “Jacob, I’m sorry I said you need to go to hell for stepping on my box.” Followed by Jacob, “(GASP) MOMMY! Leesie just said to me to go to hell! I do not want to go to that hot place!” The Phrase came out of my little angels’ mouths far too often as I talked with them, as though they liked it even better once they realized it wasn’t appropriate. And although this was not a conversation I ever envisioned having with them, it did lead to a great discussion about Jesus’ sacrifice and God’s grace. Those are two things I am super thankful for, because you know what? I do not want to go to that hot place, either!

Later that night, after giving the kids a bath, I was telling Jacob about when he was a teeny-tiny baby ginormous nearly 10-pound newborn and had to spend 4 nights in the hospital just a few weeks later because he was very very sick. I told him that even though I knew him for just a few weeks, I loved him so so much that I wouldn’t leave his side. (I didn’t mention that I actually did step away for a short time while long needles were being poked into his spine. Daddy was with him then. I figured I wouldn’t be much help sobbing hysterically right next to him, so instead I just cried all alone in the corner of another room.)

And I told him that even though he was a very big little baby, he wore the teeniest-tiniest hospital gown I’d ever seen. It was so teeny-tiny that it made me cry when they gave it to me. I told him about the medicine they needed to give him every day, and how he had a needle in his arm where they could give him the medicine, and because he was just so little, his arm was tied to a board so he wouldn’t pull out the very-important-medicine-needle.

I told him that the medicine had to go into his body for 14 days, and he was only barely that old already. And that after a few days, they took the medicine needle out of his arm, and they poked a big hole in his ankle and made a tube run up, up, up his leg, then up, up, up his chest all the way to his heart. We touched the scar on his ankle and thanked Jesus for making him better, and we thanked Him for making doctors. And we thanked Him for medicine that helps us get better. I told him that his scar could always remind him to be thankful to God for providing all these things, and for healing.

And as I whispered the story in the silent room to my wide-eyed boy, I tickled the path on his leg and chest where the tube ran. And I told him that even though I was scared each and every time, Mommy put that medicine in the tube that stuck out of his ankle every few hours for 10 days. And I prayed each and every time I did it. And that medicine went up, up, up the tube in his leg, and up, up, up, his chest, and then it came out right where the tube stopped: at his heart. I whispered it again. “The medicine had to go to your heart.”

Annalise, doll now tossed aside so she could listen to the story and touch Jacob’s scar and watch where the medicine ran up his body, suddenly blurted out, “POOR JESUS!”

“Poor Jesus?” I asked, confused and startled from the loud noise in the quiet.

“Yeah!” She replied. “He was probably covered in medicine. You just kept squirting it into Jacob’s heart. It was probably all over him!”

Jacob looked at me and said with a hint of irritation and surprise, “Yeah, Mommy. Jesus is in my heart. And you just squirted medicine on Him!”

End of story. But I can see I have more to explain…
Oh yes. And the breaking news:

That’s right, folks. I made it on the tree. Never mind that she wanted to put Izzy on again (the dog has been a suggestion numerous nights). Never mind the pink tree made it on last week. Never mind that I was beat out – by one day – by the dog’s scarf that she got after getting groomed. Yes, that’s right, Annalise was thankful for “Izzy’s Scarf” before she was thankful for her own mother. The important thing is, I MADE IT ON THE TREE! Aaaannnndd…. I made it in the first half of the month. Never mind it was the last day of the first half of the month. Because it’s not like I’m counting or anything…  The fact is SHE IS THANKFUL FOR MOMMY!

Or even just “mom.” Whatever. I’ll take it. I even got a portrait. Even Izzy didn’t get a portrait.