Easter Planting

Posted in grace, holidays, laughter, my boy, my girl, parenting (aint for sissies) by

The following is a series of pictures displaying an Easter project the kids and I did. NOTE: This is not my project idea. I saw it on FB, and I could not find the original poster to give him/her credit. Be sure to read our step-by-step instructions, though. You may learn a thing or two…

Step 1: Gather the Loot.

You’ll need potting soil, shade grass seed, a small pot, large clay plate, some twigs, small stones, a large stone, and water.

We purchased most of loot at our local True Value. Sticks and stones were gathered by Jacob and Leesie on a “nature walk” through the old Cost Cutter parking lot. (We have TWO large stones, because they couldn’t decide. We decided to try out both.)

Step 2: Lay the stones and pot in the plate.

We also have two pots. I wanted a clay one, but it was too big. So we went for the smaller peat pot.

Step 3: Cover with soil and add (choose) large stone to cover the tomb. (Leesie’s stone won.)

Step 4: Sprinkle with grass seed and add hot-glued or twine-tied crosses.

Step 5: Eat dirt. Or at least shove it up your nose. Or make yourself a mud-mask. Or all of the above. (Note, only Jacob is in the following pics, because Leesie’s mud-mask got into her eye and caused some serious drama eye-irritation. NO pictures were to be taken of this pain and agony.)

Step 6: Since you have extra soil and peat pots, plant some herbs. That is, if you can still see.

Step 7: Dump several pots of soil onto the ground. Especially those your sister planted. Because that will make her cry harder.

Step 8: Be sure to get LOTS of dirt in the fabric chairs. It makes a neat dark smeary pattern.

Step 9: Clean up your mess and set up your centerpiece. Water 3xs a day.

Step 10: Enjoy your new centerpiece, and ham it up while your mom attempts to get a good picture of you with your finished project. This is, of course, 7-10 days later, and the mud-mask-in-the-eye-mishap will be all taken care of by now.

And finally…

Step 11: Remember to do this activity on a sunny day next time, so you can make the dirt mess outdoors.

Step 12: Tell all your friends the Good News that He is Risen!

He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay! ~Matthew 28:6

5 years, 8 months, 6 days

Posted in angel babies, grief and loss, my girl, my husband, twins by

So apparently I have some sort of weird attachment to hair.

First there was this episode where I bawled like a baby for the 1/2 inch of hair that was trimmed off Annalise’s long locks. But they were her baby locks. And this was her first cut. And so I saved a lock of curls in an envelope. But the envelope stayed in my purse, which is really just a catch-all for random toys, kids’ dirty socks, a spoon or two, gum wrappers, and papers of many kinds. Oh the papers!

And one day, in a fit of frustration, I dumped all papers – including one envelope containing a lock of hair – into the trash without really going through them much. And when I remembered the envelope, garbage day had passed.

And so I bawled like a baby. Again.

But now I think I’m finally over the hair loss. Annalise’s, at least. I’m still emotional about Matt’s. But he’s been losing his hair for quite some time, you say. Yes. Yes, he has. I’m not talking about that hair loss.

His beard. He shaved it off tonight (goatee still intact). I’m happy he did. It looks awesome. But I still bawled like a baby.

It’s just that he’s had that beard for 5 years, 8 months, and 6 days. I know, because I remember the last day he shaved, 5 years, 8 months, and 7 days ago. And I know that day, because it was the day we were going in for an ultrasound of our twin babies.

And then we were sent to the hospital. And then I was transported by ambulance to UW perinatal center. And they told us our girls wouldn’t survive because I was going to deliver them that day.

But I didn’t.

So instead, I was put on inclined bed-rest. And so Matt didn’t shave the next day – 5 years, 8 months, and 6 days ago – because we were at a hospital in Seattle unexpectedly, and he hadn’t packed.

And then he didn’t shave the day after that. Or the next day. Or the day after that. And his beard became an outward sign – a tangible measurement – of how long I was still pregnant since the day they told us our babies would be born that day.

And soon he had a full beard. And we were proving “them” wrong, because I was still pregnant with two healthy, kicking baby girls.

But then 2 weeks and 1 day later, my water broke. And the next day, Madison Faith was born and died. 5 years, 7 months, and 23 days ago.

And the day after Madison died, my water broke again. And the next day, Taylor Grace was born and died. 5 years, 7 months, and 21 days ago.

And today Matt shaved his beard. It was emotional for him, too, and we talked about it first. There have been many times where he thought about shaving but didn’t, because it was too hard for one or the other of us.

Today we agreed. It was okay to let it go. And I love how he looks. But I bawled like a baby, because it reminded me that I am no longer pregnant with our two baby girls. And I didn’t play with them today. Or read with them. Or dye Easter eggs with them. Or tuck them in bed and sing them a song. Or say prayers with them and kiss their cheeks.

But I did kiss my two other babies’ cheeks. And I can see Matt’s dimples again. I love them. And I can kiss his cheeks.

And now I wonder if Madison had his dimples. She had a wider smile than Taylor’s, and she had my chin. Taylor looked more like her daddy, except she had my dark hair. Madison’s hair was blonde. 5 years, 7 months, and 21 days ago, and I still remember. When you have only moments to make memories, I guess you burn them into your mind so deep that you won’t ever forget. Each detail. Each movement. The perfect little fingers and eyebrows and noses. Twin girls with very different mouths and different hair color, born on different days. One of them – Taylor – already nearly an inch taller than her “older” sister.

I haven’t forgotten.

5 years, 8 months, 6 days ago, our lives were changed.

And so I cried for the beard.

 

I will lift up my eyes to the hills – where does my help come from? My helps comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. ~Psalm 121:1-2

I will give thanks to the LORD because of his righteousness and will sing praise to the name of the Lord Most High. ~Psalm 7:17

And those who know your name put their trust in you, for you, O Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you. ~Psalm 9:10

But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy… ~Psalm 5:11

Full

Posted in angel babies, Eucharisteo, grace, grief and loss, holidays, joy found by

So full.

Full of love. Full of peace. Full of thanksgiving.

Full of joy.

I don’t know where to begin. I started this blog 2 months ago as a way to stay focused on joy. Life’s troubles or mundane-ness can so easily bring me down. And like I said in this post from early February, in the days/weeks that bring the most trials, I need to work all the harder at thinking about the joyful moments and thanking God for them, because HE is the giver of all good things. Although I don’t write every day, I have daily spent time focusing on the joy that day brought. My outlook has changed. I am finding myself feeling more and more grateful. I have found myself spending more time each day – throughout the day – thanking God. Talking to Him. Praising Him. Slowing down to remain in His presence, because “In your presence there is fullness of joy…” from Psalm 16:11

And then I went to our church’s women’s retreat this weekend. I don’t even know what to say, except UH-MAZ-ING. Incredible from start to finish. I am so grateful to call this church my home and these people my family. And the topic? Joy. The focus verse? Psalm 16:11 “You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.”

I couldn’t possibly sum up the wonderful things the speaker (our church’s very own Sandy C.) shared. But I can say this… God had a big message, and Sandy shared it perfectly. Interwoven within all of the sessions were so many thoughts that were right in line with what God has been working on in my heart. Confirmation. Ok, God. I’m listening. I hear you loud and clear!

Some points that stood out:

– God gives us these gifts because He LOVES us. In all my joy-focusing, I kinda missed that part. I know all good and perfect gifts are from Him. I have already been working on thanking Him for them. And I know God loves me. But I failed to tie the two together. Weird, maybe. But just the same… these gifts of joy – from God, the Creator of the universe – are because HE loves ME. What an amazing and humbling thought.

– I need to look for the joy in the hard. Because joy isn’t about the circumstance, it is about the love and presence of God. I have looked for the joy in the bad, but not in the same way. In my bad days/weeks, I’ve looked for the good moments and tried to focus on those rather than on the bad moments. But I need to look for the joy within the hard. Sandy shared some great examples that I can relate to – both being moms of two kids around the same ages… When a child is tantruming and I am at the end of my rope – and then she throws something at me, thank you God, for this reminder of the grace you show me each time I throw tantrums about my situation. (I am now working on finding joy in some of my toughest moments. Where is the joy in the moment when I’m aching for my two baby girls? The promise of Heaven? Maybe. But the ache is so deep. And Heaven can feel so far off. And they were twins. Someday I will blog about it. Maybe.)

There were other things. Lots of other moments, thoughts, people, that I loved this weekend. I left feeling full.

And then I went to church this morning. Palm Sunday. The sermon: Unveiling the Crucified King. I have heard lots of sermons about Jesus being crucified. L-O-T-S. It’s not that they get old, just that they are usually very similar. Always heart-wrenching and humbling just the same. But I’ve never heard one quite like this. I don’t know what to say, except, if you want to have a (new) glimpse into what Jesus was thinking about on the cross, you should have a listen. (That link will get you to the entire list of podcasts from this amazing sermon series. Listen to them all if you’d like. You won’t be disappointed.) Again, what a blessing to be a part of this church. I am so grateful.

So that’s it. My situation hasn’t changed, but my outlook has – yet again. And I’m now full.

Full of love. Full of peace. Full of thanksgiving.

Full of joy. Eucharisteo.

They really should require some sort of license for this job

Posted in laughter, my girl, parenting (aint for sissies), the parents, the relatives by

Another FB re-post from last summer so I have our stories in one place…

August 30, 2011

This note is the same Sassy Sauce story I posted a few weeks ago, which was then deleted when I decided I don’t like people judging me, but is now being re-posted because 1) People keep asking me to email it to them and I would rather they just have access to it so I don’t have to find it and find their email address, and 2) I decided I don’t care about the thoughts of those who are going to judge me based on this silly note and a one-time lapse in judgement. I’m a perfect parent every other day of the week. (Ha!)  And because seriously, this story is real-life, and if you can’t laugh at your real-life-self, then you are going to be miserable. I choose not to be miserable. Judge if you wish. Just keep it to yourself… 🙂

As a kid, my parents didn’t wash our mouths out with soap. Instead, we got “Hot Mouth” when our mouths were naughty. I don’t remember this for myself, but I do remember my younger sister Kylie getting it often for her sassiness. I think I also got it for that, as well as for sticking out my tongue, lying, or biting. (I’m not sure it has effectively rid me of sassiness, but I usually don’t bite. Feel free to sit real close.)

Really, anything that involved naughtiness of the mouth (swearing? Never!) was fair game for Hot Mouth. Hot Mouth is simply the tiniest bit of Tobasco Sauce on mom’s finger, which is then put on the suspect’s tongue. Naughty mouth leads to stinging consequences.

As a young teen, I thought it was so funny that Kylie got Hot Mouth often. Sassy lil’ thing.

As an adult, I figured I’d use “hot mouth” on my own children. Then I married Matt. He was against it. So, it has been more or less banned as a punishment in the house, because we agree on all consequences.

As I parent, I don’t find the sassiness quite as funny as I used to.

I think God must have a sense of humor and used it when he gave us the spunkiest (read sassiest) little 3 year old on the planet… with a great vocabulary and quick wit (think come-backs and last words.) It’s really unbelievable the things that come out of my darling little angel’s mouth. Thus, I have adopted the mantra, “Strong little girls make strong women. This is a GOOD thing.” Thank you, Polly.

Sometimes the mantra changes to “INCONCEIVABLY STRONG little girls make INVINCIBLY STRONG women.” It just depends on the day, really.

Needless to say, the topic of Hot Mouth has worked its way back into our child-rearing conversations. Is it a fair punishment? Is it over-the-top? (I’m NOT asking for your advice here… just sharing the focus of our conversation.) I have leaned towards: fair, not sure if I could do it though. Matt is always an adamant NO.

Rewind a few months. I have been spending time with a friend-who-shall-remain-nameless with a similar situation and a remarkably similar 3 year old. As we share our common issues and frustrations, we have also shared our current solutions. This nameless friend said she took the advice from another friend with children who are a little older now, and used “Sassy Sauce” to combat the sassy mouth. Sassy Sauce is the same as Hot Mouth, just with a much more appropriate name for the issues I’m dealing with.

Hmmmm… Sassy Sauce. Sounds more and more like something I could use. And I certainly am not worse off for having had it as a child, right?

I decided to “try it out” by dropping it into a few conversations with friends and family. Conversations usually morphed from discussing kids and our oh-so-strong girl, to something along the lines of, “So a friend of mine has a similar situation with her girl, and she started using “Sassy Sauce,” or Tobasco Sauce on the tongue as a consequence.” Then I’d quickly read the person’s reaction and decide if they thought it was a good idea or bad one. Just putting out some parent feelers and getting feedback. Although I’m not completely sure why I did that, I think it had something to do with gathering support in case I decided to take the idea of Sassy Sauce back to the table with Matt.

I did. He still didn’t like it.

I bought some anyway. Just in case. (Easy, Matt fans, I told him I had it after I bought it. And I would never use it – or any other punishment – without his permission. We are a team in this parenting fiasco.)

As the summer has progressed and my time alone with the kids has continued – time which I am SO INCREDIBLY THANKFUL FOR – I have also had more opportunity to experience the sassiness of my strong girl… and she has had more opportunity to practice it. Which means she is getting REALLY GOOD at it. You may even say she is an expert.

…Wondering right now why SHE is getting better at it, but my parenting hasn’t seemed to improve with an equal amount of practice…

I mentioned Sassy Sauce to Annalise. Just to put it out there as a possibility. Not even knowing what it is, she was still terrified of it. The second she is sassy, I only have to look at her, eyebrows raised, and she instantly says, “NO Sassy Sauce! Please! I’m so sorry I was naughty with my mouth!”

Now mind you, I’ve never said I’d use it. I simply told her that I knew of other mommies that had it and used it when their kids were sassy. That’s it. I never discussed it again. Apparently it made a big enough impact. Either that, or Annalise has been talking to her friends that have experienced it already.

Fast forward to this week. All in all, it’s been a good week. But the sassiness is still there and is really draining. So I asked Matt if I could use it, just once, to see how it would go. A teeny-tiny drop of Tobasco sauce. It won’t make her sick, it isn’t abuse… Good grief, some people pour it on nearly every meal. (Again, NOT asking for your opinion of the matter here, just letting you know what I was thinking and the arguments I gave him.)

Matt, I’m sure feeling bad that I am getting the brunt of the sassiness as he works so hard with two jobs (which I am so thankful for and proud of him for), agreed…. reluctantly.

I didn’t use Sassy Sauce immediately. Instead, I sat Annalise down after a major sassy moment and told her exactly what would happen if she continued to talk that way. Sassy Sauce was now open for business, so-to-speak.

This morning, a little sassy mouth was warned that if it was sassy again, it would receive it’s first sassy consequence. Threats never deter Annalise, so she repeated her sassy comment, just to be sure I was telling the truth.

I was.

The drama that began in that moment – the moment she realized I don’t lie – wasn’t worth it. The drama that continued after the teeniest tiniest bit of Sassy Sauce touched her tongue (and I mean so-teeny-youcan’tevenseeit-tiny) – wasn’t worth it.

And then my motherly guilt kicked in. I felt so horrible that I caused my child (what I’m sure was extremely minor) pain in her mouth, that I gave myself some Sassy Sauce just to see what she was going through. (Not bad, really, but I do enjoy spicy stuff.) I could see why it would be frightening to a sweet – because she really IS sweet – little girl.

I felt awful. I gave her milk immediately. It didn’t work fast enough. She cried harder in fear (and a bit in drama) saying that “It will NEVER stop hurting! It won’t EVER go away!”

I called my sister. Who better to tell Annalise that yes, the stinging will go away, than the queen-of-hot-mouth, KYLIE? Annalise LOVES Auntie Kye-Kye, and I’m sure she could be calmed down by Kylie’s words of encouragement. “This will be a good lesson, afterall!” I tell myself.

Kylie didn’t answer.

How about I call Grandma? If Kylie is the queen of Hot Mouth, then the deliver-er of Hot Mouth, the queen-mother (that joke was for you, dad) would also have great advice, right? This only caused further howling as Annalise was afraid of her precious Gramma Kitchen finding out she indeed does naughty things and had a sassy mouth. (“What??” Gramma says, “Annalise ISN’T perfect??? -GASP-“)

What to do, what to DO??? Panic. Guilt. Tears…. from both of us. What could make this pain go away so we can actually DISCUSS why it’s important not to be sassy? What do I have the can cover the sting of too much spice???

Ice cream. (Don’t judge. You have not been in my shoes.)

I run to the freezer. I grab the only ice cream that is there… Haagen Dazs Java Chip. I feed the creamy COFFEE deliciousness to my 3-year old. How’s that for good parenting? (Again, not looking for your input.)

Stay tuned for future stories of Annalise being sassy and then quickly asking for ice cream. Even as I write, hours later, she is telling me her tongue “still stings a teeny… I might just need a teeny more….” I cut her off. I don’t even want to hear it. I’m already sulking.

Why anyone would leave me alone with these children is beyond me.

Needless to say, Sassy Sauce will retire. But the Tobasco Sauce will remain… I think I’ll start putting it on my scrambled eggs.

14 + 4 = 57 + 2100

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

14: The number of times my kids (mostly Jacob) threw up (mostly on me) in the last 5 days.

4: The number of times Jacob overflowed his diaper in the last 5 days. I’ll spare you the description, except to say that sleeper jammies (the kind with feet) ended up being a great floor protector. The last couple days, I’ve left him in PJs on purpose. Just in case.

57: The number of extra loads of laundry I did due to above mentioned vomiting and diarrhea. It may have been a bit less. But it certainly felt like 57. Or more.

2,100: The number of extra minutes Matt or I got to spend with our kids this week when we normally would have been working. Yes, I calculated it.

And there it is… 2,100 minutes… The joy found. When you’re doing an extra 57 loads of laundry and cleaning up bodily functional messes, you have to find the joy, right? That was mine. Extra laundry isn’t so bad when it meant I got extra snuggles in between time, extra kisses, extra books to read with my kids, extra lunch-time prayers where they thanked God for making mommy, daddy, Kim, and Grandma Kitchen better and prayed with even greater faith to make Jacob better, and extra minutes to just hold them.

Thank you, God, for extra minutes. I love them so.