A Bat Dream

Posted in my boy, my girl, nieces and nephews, parenting (aint for sissies), the parents, the relatives by

Over the past year, I’ve posted some notes and stories on Facebook that I’d like to save. Since I now have a blog, I decided to save those stories on here so I have them all in one place.

This story is from last summer about Annalise missing her cousin so so bad. It is the perfect story to post today for two reasons:

1) Today (March 10) is my mom’s birthday. And I’m pretty sure there is no one she loves more than her 5 (+1 on the way +2 in Heaven) grandkids. Except maybe my dad. But grandkids are a close second. Closer on some days than others… am I right, dad? All kidding aside, mom always loves a good grandkid story, and this story is about 3 of them. So, happy birthday, mom!

2) Annalise has really been missing her cousin Ellia lately. Just this morning, she was carrying around pictures of her and talking about when she’ll get to finally see her again. We really miss that girl. So so bad. And her mommy and daddy and sister. We are hoping to get to see them soon. And when we do, there will undoubtedly be stories of antics from FOUR hilarious kids – 5 if my other sis and fam get to visit, too. Until then, most of the stories will be of our two. But that’s okay, because even on sad-and-missing-my-sisters days, these two bring joy in a thousand different ways.

So here it is… “A Bat Dream” – June, 2011

Jacob has a giant blue blow-up bat that is as tall as Leesie. (No, I would not purchase such a ridiculously tempting sister-beating tool for him, but a nice boy gave it to him at the Raspberry Festival after Jacob tried to steal it about a dozen times. Thank you, “nice” boy.) Anyway, it is the only thing in the house that is the exact same height as Annalise, it is easily transportable, and it is the perfect squeezable toy for ginormous hugs from a girl of the same height.

So, naturally, Annalise took possession of the bat and named it “Ellia.” The real Ellia is Annalise’s same-age cousin who is a missionary kid living in Indonesia.

Annalise misses her dearly, and since Ellia left, Leesie has played with an invisible playmate she named “Pretend Ellia.”

Blue-bat Ellia has replaced Pretend Ellia. Finally, Ellia exists in a physical form… just one of a giant blow-up bat.

Having a physical replacement-Ellia seems to be much more fun for Annalise than an invisible-Ellia. First off, inflatable-bat-Ellia can give hugs. Well, not really give hugs, but hugs are definitely easier than with invisible-Ellia. Annalise squeezes the bat tightly and says, “I LOVE you, Ellia!” Then she kisses it, talks about being friends forever, and tells the blue inflatable how much she has missed her. And although she used to dance with Pretend Ellia, I now know where to look when she says, “Mom, watch Ellia spin!” So yes, inflatable-Ellia has been a step-up, (or I should say an upswing.)

But it has also been a problem. Mainly because Jacob also knows exactly where Ellia is now, too.

Sometimes, Jacob gets a hold of “Ellia” and beats people with it… I mean her. Or, he whacks the end of the bat on the ground. Both generate blood-curdling screams from his older sister about him hurting Ellia’s head. Never mind my head. Or arm. Or whatever it is Jacob can reach at the moment with the 3+ foot tall bat.

Other times, usually when Annalise has just set Ellia down for a moment, Jacob grabs her and runs as fast as he can out of the room with a big goofy grin on his face. This is usually a very comical site, as inflatable Ellia is much bigger than Jacob, and he doesn’t run very well when he isn’t holding anything in his hands. And of course, Annalise is right at his heels yelling, “JACOB!!!  PUT!  ELLIA!  DOWN!  NOW!!!!!!!” This usually makes his goofy smile even bigger, and sometimes even triggers a giggle. I’m thinking we’re in real trouble here…

But the biggest problem with inflatable Ellia is not that Jacob can run off with her, tormenting his big sister. No, I’m certain the biggest problem is yet to come. At the moment, Annalise spends nearly all her waking hours at home telling Ellia what to do. And at the moment, “Ellia” is nothing but compliant.

“Ellia, you sit here. I will sit here.” Ellia does.

“Ellia, lay down and take a nap.” Ellia does. And for as long as Annalise desires.

“Ellia, you sleep on the bottom bunk, I’ll sleep on the top, okay?” No arguments from Ellia. Not even about the choice of blanket or pillow.

Next year sometime, the real Ellia – the one that Annalise misses so badly that she actually carries around a giant inflatable toy to give her some sense of her presence – will be here. And I’m thinking she won’t be quite as accommodating to each and every one of Leesie’s demands. In fact, I’m thinking she may have a few demands of her own, as she is also a strong little three-year-old much like her cousin. (Right, Auntie Ko-Ko?)

I’m just so curious how this meeting will go, when both strong little girls at last get to be together to play – with a playmate who has her own strong opinions. Not to mention, there will be two (three, counting Riley!) younger siblings together to torment their older siblings as a team. And from what I know of Jacob and what I’ve heard about mischievous Alyssa, I’m thinking the combination of Jacob+Alyssa will be more than 1+1=2.

Whatever happens, I am so looking forward to the time when we can all be together and cousins can play and make memories like the ones I have of growing up with my own cousins. They are some of my greatest memories.

Although a giant bat may not argue much, real cousins definitely have more interesting things to say, and you don’t have to carry them everywhere you want them to go. But most importantly, they can return ginormous hugs with their own arms. That is a moment I dream of for both my kids, and for me. Auntie Holly loves you so much, real-Ellia. And your mommy, daddy, and sister too!

The REAL Ellia and Annalise running to meet for one of their ginormous hugs. Early Spring, 2010. I can’t wait to see this again…

In Honor of Jacob

Posted in friends, holidays, joy found, laughter, my boy, parenting (aint for sissies) by

I sat down to blog… on Friday. But then life happened. So now it is Sunday, and I am just sitting down to finish. Ah, well. Better late than never.

Today was a day to celebrate. For one, it was FRIDAY. – TGIF is an understatement. –  Two, it is Dr. Seuss’ birthday. It is a rule that as an elementary school teacher, you must celebrate this. Plus, if you have any kind of kid left in you, you should be happy about it too, because, well, Dr. Seuss is pretty awesome. And three, Jacob pooped in the potty. All you mamas out there know the joy that brings to a mommy’s heart. I had no idea bodily functions could be so exciting until I became a parent. Since it’s now Sunday – potty update… because it’s important… dry diaper 2 nights in a row plus nap time one day. 3 more successful potty trips. I’m hoping this isn’t just a fluke!

In honor of his accomplishment, I thought I’d post a couple recent Jacob-moments that have brought us lots of laughter this week, and what I’ve learned from them…

Jacob-Moment #1 – The Grocery Store

While in the grocery store cart, Jacob hollered, “Mommy! I see CHINTA!”

Chinta is the name of Auntie Nee/Uncle Jeff’s dog, and since I knew she wasn’t in the store, I started looking around for a picture of a dog similar to Chinta. But we were in the soup/beans aisle. No dog pics nearby. And so the following conversation took place with each comment from Jacob getting increasingly louder:

“I don’t see Chinta, Buddy. She’s not here.”

“Yes. I see Chinta! He WIGHT DARE!” (I look. No dog.)

“No. I don’t see him.”

“Mommy, I see him. I see him, Mommy! I see CHINTA!!!!”

“Buddy, I’m sorry, I don’t see him.”

“Mommy! Look! Mommy! Chinta wight dare. HE. WIGHT. DARE!!!!”

As I moved down the aisle, Jacob started bouncing in the cart with excitement. “Mommy! Mommy! I see CHIN-TA. CHIN-TA! CHIIIINNN-TAAAA! HIIII CHINTAAAAAA!!!”  Oh great. Now he’s calling the invisible dog.

And just as I begin to shush him a bit, we pass an old man and Jacob hollers out, “HO! HO! HO! MEWWWY CWISMAS, CHINTA!”

Old man turns, with long white beard and large belly...  Oh.

Jacob smiles his big proud dimpled grin at me. “See Mommy? Is Chinta! I see him wight dare!”  I smile a sheepish grin at SANTA-ish man and hurry around the corner to avoid further embarrassment.

Note to self: Teach Jacob how to pronounce the word SANTA. And in the future, don’t argue with 1-year-old in public. Accept all things he says as truth, and move on.

Jacob-Moment #2 -The Other Jacob

Bev is a friend of mine that watches our kids 4 days/week. She also has two kids, one named Jacob, only her Jacob is in middle school. On Friday morning, her Jacob missed the bus. Bev texted me to let me know she was running him to school and would be back in a bit. Annalise saw me texting her back and asked what I was doing. I told her. She asked why. I said, “Because Jacob missed the bus.”

I continued to get ready and didn’t pay much attention to the kids as they played, but then I realized only one of them was playing. Jacob had been sitting so quiet, almost sad, for about 10 minutes. I looked at his little face and saw a bewildered and sad boy with a furrowed brow. Clearly, he was contemplating something, and he was bothered by it.

“What’s wrong, Buddy? Why are you sad?”

He looked up at me, then back down. He furrowed his brow again and shook his head. He spoke in a small sad voice, “Oh, man. I missed da bus!”

Note to self: When speaking of “Jacob,” clarify if it is the other Jacob.

Jacob-Moment #3 – Pronoun Problem

I already posted this on FB, but it is worth repeating.

I was home with just the kids. They were playing in the other room, but then Jacob came to me and said, “Sissy cwying.”

Me: Why?

Jacob: He mean to her.

Me: Who?

Jacob: He.

Me: Who???

Jacob: He… I… I is he. (Long pause while I look at him with eyebrows raised.) Oh man, I mean to her. ‘Scuse me, Momma. I go say sow-we.

Note to self: Teach Jacob proper pronoun usage. And raised eyebrows work well when needing to get the truth out of Jacob.

And one last Jacob-ism:

Me: I love you, my child.

Jacob: I. NOT. MY. CHILD!!!  I Jacobpweestman!!

Okay. I love you, Jacobpweestman!! TOOooo much!  (Another Jacob-ism) What a blessing you are!

Wordless Wednesday – Not MY words anyway. Just my heart.

Posted in angel babies, grief and loss, twins by

I Will Carry You

There were photographs I wanted to take

Things I wanted to show you

Sing sweet lullabies

Wipe your teary eyes

Who could love you like this?

People say that I am brave, but I’m not

Truth is I’m barely hanging on

But there’s a greater story

Written long before me

Because He loves you like this

I will carry you

While your heart beats here

Long beyond the empty cradle

Through the coming years

I will carry you

All my life

And I will praise the ONE who’s chosen me

To carry you

Such a short time

Such a long road

All this madness, but I know

That the silence

Has brought me to HIS voice

And He says,

“I’ve shown her photographs of time beginning

Walked her through the parted sea

Angel lullabies

No more teary eyes

Who could love her like this?

I will carry you

While your heart beats here

Long beyond the empty cradle

Through the coming years

I will carry you

All your life

And I will praise the ONE who’s chosen me

To carry you.”

Baby Steps

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

Want to make me bawl like a baby?  Hurt my family.  Make fun of a kid.  Tell me a sad story of heartache.

Or apparently, give my daughter a haircut.

That’s right, folks. We did it. We took our girl for her first ever hair cut.

She was born with a full mop…

and we’ve let it grow…

and grow…

   

and grow…

   

and GROW!

   

Until it was so long, that she was in danger of Auntie Ko-Ko putting her hair in a bun.

~ Side-story: My little sis, Kylie, once had hair as long as Annalise when she was young. She liked it in a bun for bath-time. One night, she forgot to have someone pin it up and was about to step in the tub when she remembered. Running into the living room buck naked, she asked someone to put her hair in a bun. My older sis, Korie (11 1/2 years Kylie’s senior) volunteered. As Kylie backed her little naked body up to Korie, Korie grabbed her hair and stuck it right between Kylie’s butt-cheeks and said, “There. It’s in a bun.” Kylie didn’t find it funny. Korie found it hilarious.

Korie may live in Indonesia, but I still think it’s best to avoid bun-length hair. ~

For Leesie, as it is for all of us, some hair days were better than others…

   
So with her hair approaching “bun length” and with more frequent bad hair days recently, we thought it might be time to get it chopped.

I probably should have taken her in when she told Auntie Nee that her hair falls in her potty when she goes. (I don’t really think it did.)

Or maybe I should have scheduled the appointment 4 months ago after the Target fiasco. Long story short: Me, 2 kids, 1 dirty public restroom, 1 full cart of yet-to-be-purchased household necessities left in the clothing section as I run with said 2 kids to the potty for an “emergency” and end up with 1 girl’s long hair in the toilet as she bent down to pull her pants back up. I saw it coming. I hollered. Then gagged as she pulled wet hair back out. It could have been prevented if I had a free hand. But I happened to be busy frantically putting Jacob on my shoulders to stop him from reaching in the little secret garbage box in the stall, then frantically pulling him back down and covering his mouth after he tried to look over the stall at the nice lady next door. “Peek! I see you!”

In any case, I postponed the haircut because I wasn’t sure I could go through with it. Those baby curls at the bottom of her long beautiful hair would be gone. They’ve been there 4 years, 4 months, and 17 days. No – even longer, since her hair was growing well before she was born.

So today, when we decided to finally do it, I was nervous. She was nervous. She couldn’t eat breakfast because her “tummy felt funny.” I couldn’t eat breakfast because I was crying. She brought bear-bear to hold. I just held tissues.

  

“How much do you want cut?” the hairdresser asked.

Not much. Baby steps. I don’t want her to grow up. I’m not ready for this. “Oh, just an inch or two. We still want it long.”

  

Matt says it doesn’t look much different. I am happy about that. Maybe next time we can go shorter. Or not. We’ll see. For now, I’m just trying to figure out how to survive her growing up when I couldn’t even keep it together at the hair salon.

And in case you’re wondering, yes, I did keep one lock of baby curls. I’ll have to keep them in her baby book. She certainly isn’t a baby anymore. I love you, my big girl!

  

A Little Extra Awesome

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

People often say being a mom (or parent) is a thankless job. While I have some serious evidence from this past week to support this claim, I have to disagree. Don’t get me wrong. Parenting is hard, stressful, and draining work. And the thank-yous don’t usually flow freely. And people judge what you do or don’t do or tell you how they did/do it better. And as a mommy, you carry enough guilt to fill an airport’s worth of suitcases. And just when you have worked your hardest and sacrificed the most and are maybe feeling like you did something right for once, someone – likely your own child – will say or do something that makes you feel like you are a major failure or make you wonder why you bother working so hard and sacrificing so much. But even then, it is not a thankless job. Let me tell you why…

These past two weeks have been a challenge in the parenting department for me.

Scratch that. These past two weeks have been down right miserable in the parenting department. Lots of meltdowns. From me, I mean. LOTS. I think I was pretty close to a nervous break down on more than one occasion. And while I don’t think I did a horrific job, I’m certain I won’t be winning any “Mother of the Year” awards.

But here’s the thing. Even during these weeks, there were moments where the work was worth it, where my kids said or did something that made me feel appreciated, loved, and in their own way – thanked. Each time one of these things happened, I couldn’t help but think about how awesome my kids are and how blessed I am to have them.

I’m pretty sure most parents think their own kids are the coolest. I definitely think all kids are cool. They just are. Kids are awesome. And I know we’re biased, but Matt and I think ours are extra awesome. We often say to each other, “Why do you think God put so much extra awesome in Leesie?” Or, “Do you think other people realize all the extra awesome Jacob has?” (We have our theories as to why they have this extra awesome, and none of them have to do with us. We’re pretty certain it’s not genetics.)

My point is this – as a parent, when you see the extra awesome in your own kids, you can’t help but know it’s all worth it. That it isn’t a thankless job. That even if I don’t win any “Mother of the Year” awards, I could put my kids up against any other for “Awesomest Kids” awards and to me, mine would win every time.

Here are some recent “extra awesome” moments:

– Jacob is THE most thankful boy I know. He says thank you – or tank you – to everything. For example, on his first snowy day, he was so excited to get outside and play. But first came a diaper change and layers of clothes. He thanked me after each step. Cleaned bottom? “Tank you, Mama.” Medicine on butt? “Tank you for meh-sin, Mama.” Diaper? Onesie? Each and every layer of clothing – including 4 socks, 2 boots, and 2 gloves? “Tank you.” “Tanks, Mama.” “Tanks foh glub, Mama.” “Tanks foh udder glub. I luh you so much.” I was thanked for each thing. (See? Who says this is a thankless job? Not me!) But seriously. Such thankfulness for a one-year-old is definitely extra awesome.

– Annalise’s “Naked Dance.” Pure hilarious entertainment. And definitely extra awesome. Plus, her little brother now does it. Double extra awesomeness.

– Jacob’s singing. While whatever he sings is awesome enough, he changes the words, gets a sly smile on his face, then stops and says, “WHAT??” And laughs at his own joke. Extra awesome.

– Annalise’s ability to make up a song about anything, anytime, anywhere. Sometimes as a response to me. “Leesie, it’s bath time.” Singing response, “It’s tiiiimmmmeee for a baaaattthh. Oh you knoooowwwwwww it’s time to get cleeeaaaannn…”And on and on goes the awesomeness.

– Pretty much anytime Jacob talks, it’s full of extra awesome. His seemingly limitless vocabulary + his adorable facial expressions on two chubby cheeks = daily extra awesome.

– Leesie’s prayers. Her heart. Her desire to be mighty for God. “Mom, I want to be mighty for God. I really do. I just don’t hear Him talking to me. How am I ‘posed to know how to be mighty for Him when He isn’t tellin’ me any words?” I reminded her that we can read the Bible and learn what He wants us to do – (like obey mommy and daddy, right?) “Mom, that’s what He wants everyone to do. I want to know what He wants me to do that is mighty for Him.” How extra awesome is that?

– Jacob walking. When he’s in an extra awesomely good mood, he struts to a beat like he has music playing in his head.

– The hilarious comments both of them make. I post a lot of them on Facebook. But we’re probably laughing 10 times more than what I post. And each time I think, “There it is. The extra awesome.”

My dad always says, “I just can’t figure out how they got to be so cute!” (I’m a bit offended at his tone of surprise. Apparently he is certain it isn’t genetics, either. Thanks, Dad.) I just have to tell him, “Yep. They’re pretty extra awesome.”

Matt always says, “We got some pretty extra awesome kids here. That’s pretty amazing considering… I just don’t think we’d want to risk having a third, because, well, you know. The chances of three turning out so awesome aren’t very good.” (Again, I’d like to know what is wrong with us that it is so shocking we have awesome kids!)

I think he’s wrong. Because I think any kid we have would be extra awesome to us. I think every parent has the ability to see the extra awesome in their own children. Sometimes we just get too busy to look for it, too frustrated to see it, or we don’t feel appreciated in all the work we do. It’s easy to forget that while kids won’t always say, “Thank you, Mama, for doing my laundry while I threw a fit about picking up my own mess,” they have other ways of showing their love and appreciation. When they feel safe and loved, kids maybe just thank you by filling your day with all their extra awesome.