After all that I've done for you...

Saturday was a fabulous day.  A particularly long day, but it was pleasant and enjoyable nonetheless. 

Lance left the house at 5:20am to go to Knoxville to the Tennessee game.  Easton was up at his normal DST hour of 6:30am.  DST is for the birds.  FOR.  THE.  BIRDS.  6:30am is far to early when you don't have to go to 'work' and school.  Anyways.  Easton was up early.  I did somehow manage to get him to lay in the bed with me until 8.  We got up, had some breakfast- 'what's those color tangs again mommy?'  Fruit Loops...for him.  Green Smoothie for me. 

My mom came over.  We took some maternity pictures, then we headed out to the Mall.  We pushed it through nap time.  Easton was a dream.  He'd walk some, then ride some.  Walk, then ride.  Listening to what we said, cooperating like a champ.  We had some lunch, rode the carousel, got Gigi's cupcakes, kept on shopping.  A full day indeed.  But fun! 

I thought surely he'd fall asleep on the way home, but he didn't.  By the time we got home it was 4:00 and far too late for a nap, but gracious, we were tired and Lance was still not home, nor on the way.  Van trouble in Knoxville.  So, we hunkered down in the bonus room for Toy Story and I did a little sewing while he watched the movie and played. 

Easton said he was getting a little bit hungry and that he wanted oatmeal.  Easy enough.  I went down and fixed him blueberry oatmeal with a side of banana.  He ate and continued playing.

He wanted to play 'hockey' and dump all the balls out of this basket.  I reminded him he didn't put them up the night before but then he said 'I promise I'll put all of them up'.  I told him he could dump them out as long as he'd put them up.  Sweet little thing climbed up on the couch and gave me a hug and said 'I promise'.  'You're my sweet baby' I said, as he got down off the couch.  He looked at me and said:

I jus been growin up. So I can't be your baby anymore. I'll get little again one day.

I gave him a sad face and he went on about his playing.  He really is no longer a baby.  But it seems like just yesterday when I was sitting on this very couch in this very same large state longing for his arrival.  We played baseball a few minutes and hockey a few more. 

But then the mood changed.  The back talking started.  The attitude.  The nap that was missed was rearing its ugly head now. 

Calmly, I told him we were going to get things cleaned up and take a bath then come back up and lay on the couch together.  Oh, the whining that ensued after this.  He didn't want to clean up.  He wanted to play balls.  There were too many to pick up.  He didn't want to put the cushions back on the couch.  On and on and on and on. 

A little too much attitude and I sent him to the corner.  Where he protested.  Loudly.  And very unkindly.  I kept my cool, although I was burning on the inside.  After all I'd done for him today, lunch out, cupcakes, carousel ride, skipping nap, some really cool bear house shoes, etc.  He got louder and louder.  More defiant with each second.  I started raising my voice.  "After all I've done for you, and this is how you act..." I began to try to reason with him.   

But I'd had it.  I spanked him and raised my voice.  I don't spank.  I don't think it's the answer.  I was never spanked as a child.  Probably needed it but never was.  Talking was always the discipline in my house.  Sometimes I think I'd rather have been spanked.  But Saturday, I spanked.  I needed him to know I meant business.  I'd tried the calm approach.  I'd tried ignoring him.  Nothing was working.  Spanking was the next route.  The one I rarely ever take. 

I cleaned up all the balls while he kept crying, acting ugly.  I put the couch cushions all back on the couches.  I picked up the baseball bats and the hockey stick.  We proceeded to the bath room, where we would NOT be playing, but taking a bath then getting in the bed.  At 7pm. 

I.  WAS.  DONE.

As the bath went on he said 'mommy, I'm done being ugly.  I'm sorry for being ugly upstairs.'  And the waterworks started.  I got him out of the tub, dried him off and explained to him that he hurt my heart and I did not like getting on to him.  He apologized again for his actions.  He hugged me and said he was sorry.  I told him I was sorry too.   I cried a little more.  He hugged me again. 

We made up and I let him come back upstairs to rest on the couch until bedtime.  10 minutes later, he was sound asleep.  I started recounting the nights events.  My heart was hurting for spanking him.  I was praying I wouldn't go into labor and have this be the kind of memory I'd have of 'the night I went into labor'.  And the words I'd said to him were ringing back in my head...

'after all I've done for you...' 

How many times does Jesus feel that way about me and my ungrateful attitude?  Rather- how many times can He feel that way, yet doesn't.  Simply opens His arms and says easy does it sister, you've got all you need.  And more.

This stay at home mom thing is awesome.  Wonderful!  But it's really an adjustment for me.  It's hard for me to be home all the time.  It's hard to know how to fill 8-10 hours a day, productively and fun.  I'm trying to be very conscious of what I spend and what I do because we are now a one-income family.  There's not a lot to do in the fall & winter that's free or cheap.  Not to mention, I'm VERY pregnant and low on energy.  And that's when Satan creeps in and steals the joy that I've been given.  This joy to be home with Easton, and soon, Emerson.  He puts me on the pitty party train and I ride it a long way.  Yet.  This is something I've prayed for.  Longed for.  Hoped for.  To be home. 

And that's when it hit's me. 

He's given me so much in this gift of being home.  Yet, like a 3 year old I get in the corner and kick and scream and lay down and cry because I don't get to go to Joann's or Hobby Lobby every time I want and buy something else to craft.  Or because I can't go to Target or the Mall and get new clothes.  Or go out to eat dinner every time I don't feel like cooking.  Those things are limited now.  Those things are bonus now, instead of the norm.  BUT.  On the flip side, I'M HOME WITH MY CHILD!  How extremely selfish of me!

This is an adjustment period for us all.  But I pray that each time I start acting like a 3 year old, even though most of my battle is done internally, never seen by anyone, that I remember the blessing that I have been given.  All the other is just stuff.  And I pray that I can say 'I'm sorry' as easy as my child does when I do act like a 3 year old, and that I trust and believe that I am forgiven and can climb up in my Heavenly Father's lap just as Easton climbs up in mine. 

It's heavy right now.

What does one say?  What does one write after something so tragic.  Do I write?  Do I not?  It's very heavy on me, so I think the best thing for me to do, the theraputic thing for me to do...is to write.  Forgive me if it's a hubub of words. 

As the text alerts came in on Friday, I had to shut them out.  The word of a shooting was being discussed while we were signing Christmas Cards in our Conference Room at work.  I knew if I attached myself to those words I'd lose it right then and there.  Over people I didn't even know.  Circumstances I didn't fully understand.  So, I tuned it out.  I continued signing until the cards were signed and headed back to my cubicle to read the news myself.

I checked the internet to find that the shooting was at an elementary.  Numbers were still coming in.  I think there were 18 when I checked. 

When Lance called to see if I'd heard the news is when I lost it.  And, I don't feel like I've shaken that gut wrenching, chin quivering, heart ache feeling since then. 

Twenty-Six innocent lives.  Children.  Women.  Innocence.  Lives lost that day because of one man's selfish, careless actions. 

How?  How do you go on after something like this?  I have no connection to these families, don't even know anyone who lives in CT, yet, I feel so connected.  Perhaps it's because I'm a mother now.  Or maybe because I'm sensitive?  Or maybe yet, it's because I'm a Believer?  Or maybe, just a mere human with concern and regard for others.

Whatever the case may be, this has flat shaken me to my core.  The 'what ifs?' of this tragedy stop me in my tracks.  The thought of losing my own, the feelings are unbarable.  Tears burn my eyes and streak my face just thinking of that.  But these families?  These 26 families, this is their reality.  It's not their 'what if?'.  The pain that I feel is no where compared to what they are dealing with.  The tears that I've shed over 26 strangers is nothing compared to those who actually loved these children, these heroic women.   

Why am I connected?  Why am I concerned?  Why am I so invested in this?  As a Christian, we are called to carry one anothers burdens.  And when something like this happenes, whether you want to face it or not, reality is...it happened.  I think it's part of loving and honoring those who were lost to watch the footage, read the reports, click through each and every picture, see each name, read a small paragraph about what each one was like.  Their favorite color, their hobbies, their personalities.  So many of them sending me right to tears as they reminded me of my Easton.  How?  How as a parent do you go on after losing a child.  The least I can do is read about these precious lives.  Lives lost to such evil.

The thoughts and questions and fears each one had while this tragedy was happening have swirled in my head since I clicked on the link on Friday.  It's just too much.  This world is just too much sometimes. 

John 18:36 "My Kingdom is not of this world...but My Kingdom is from another place." 

So what now?  How do I, Annie, move on from this?  When I think about the coward that took these lives, I can't help but see the pain.  He had to be suffering deep within to feel the need to take these lives.  Did no one see it?  I want to see it.  I want to see the hurting and the broken.  I want to be a light in someones darkness.  Could someone have reached out to him?  Did anyone try to show love to him?  We will never know those answers and perhaps he had all the love in the world and all the care in the world, but was still in the dark.  Not knowing Peace.  Not knowing THE Prince of Peace.  Lord, help me be Peace to those around me. 

I think the best thing we can do today and tomorrow is to show love to others.  We all have brokeness and hurt and mess.  But can we not just take a moment to see others the way Jesus does.  With outstretched arms.  With Love.  With a tender heart.  Quick to forgive.  Slow to anger.  Lord knows I'm guilty of falling short of all of these, but I want to be different.  I want to be changed.  I want to be a strong woman of God that my husband is proud to call his own.  I want to be a mother so reflective of Jesus, that my footsteps lead Easton to Jesus.  For me, this is how I will honor these 26.

The love must start at home.  Jesus must be shown at home.  At all times.  To all people. 

As I drove from work today, towards school to pick up my boy, I looked in the rear-view mirror.  All I could see were raindrops and deep angry blue clouds.  Quite descriptive of how I felt.  But no more than a mile or two down the road, the sun popped out and in that same rear-view mirror was the brightest most magnificent rainbow.  Gods reminder to me, that even though there are clouds, He is always there.  It may not be in the form of ROY G BIV, but it's there.  Hope.  Peace.  Joy.  Grace.  It's always there.  His free gift. 

I have seen this quote countless times over the weekend and find it comforting:
"When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." To this day, especially in times of "disaster," I remember my mother's words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world." Fred Rogers

May I be a helper.  May I raise my boy to be a helper. 

Tonight, along with the last few nights and days since this has happend...I've rocked a little longer, I've kissed a little more, I've lingered a few more minutes at his classroom, I've bent down for 'one more kiss...and one more hug (for the 5th time)' as I leave him at school, I've cherished a little more, I've loved a little harder.  God knows I love this child more than life itself, but these days, it seems a bit more intense.  And that's fine with me.  I never want to lose sight of the precious gift that I've been given.  Tomorrow is not promised. 

 

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. 

It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around

outside your body." Elizabeth Stone

I'm sure none of the families of the 26 will ever read this, but my prayers and deepest heart ache is with them.  I am truly sorry for the loss of these precious loved ones. I pray that they find the Peace and comfort that is waiting for them with arms streched wide, ready to hold each one.  Your sweet loved ones will NOT be forgotten. 

A few of my favorite blogs touched on this today.  I thought you might enjoy them too. 

Ann Voscamp
Bits of Splendor
Tales of Me & The Husband

Instead of worrying...

I'm a bit of a nervous nelly by nature. I worry.  I stress.  I'm anxious.  About what?  Who knows.  Whatever you can think of.  Health of my family & health of myself mostly. If something happened to me, would Easton remember me?  Would someone let him know how much I love him.  Would I leave a legacy for him?  Would Lance make certain to remind him who I was?   Do all mothers have these fears?  Please tell me I'm not alone. 

 

You see, I have major anxiety over a stomach ache.  Sorry to be a little graphic, but here goes.  Not just a stomach ache, but throw up sick.  I mean, what's the worst that's going to happen?  You're going to throw up, your going to lose sleep, you'll feel bad 24-48 hours tops, but you get better.  Right?  Right.  But for me, it takes over my mind and I get all kinds of anxious about it.  This all started in 2010 when I had about 3 stomach viruses/food poisoning (EVIL!!!) in a row and was so worried about my milk production for Easton and it's continued.  Dare I say, gotten worse. 

Crazy. I know. We've all got our issues (don't we?). That one's mine. 

Here lately, this has escalated, because my stomach is routinely out of sorts. Not sure what's going on with it, but it's filling my mind.  I worry.  Do I have an ulcer?  Do I have colon problems?  Do I have a tumor?  Really?  It's just a stomach ache.  Or, as my husband likes to tell me 'it's all in your head boo".  And it very well could be an allergy, a sensitivity, anything.  Sometimes it's not even full blown stomach ache, just an uneasy stomach.  But I can get myself worked up quick about it, and it turns into full out anxiety.  I've been to the doctor.  I've had blood work done.  Now I'll go for an Upper GI series on Friday.  Hopefully to prove that everything is healthy! 

Still reading?  Think I should be commited yet? 

Keep reading.  It gets good. 

I was talking to a friend of mine last night and she reminded me of Philippians 4:4-8. 

How many times do I worry about LIFE and nothing ever comes of it?  Why do I put so much effort into this worry?  Why don't I trust what I've read and believed my entire life?  Why not pray more, worry less?  My faith.  Where is it? 

I know all the sayings.  I know all the verses.  I know it's all worthless.  But I worry anyway. 

It's easier as humans to want to 'do it myself'.  Even Easton, at the ripe age of 2 (and a half) request to 'do it myself' at almost everything.  How much easier would it be to let me carry him up the 19 steps to the apartment?  Much.  But he insist on walking up every.single.step. 

By worrying, we are insisting on doing it ourselves?  Why?  Why don't we let the One who already has our days numbered and planned out carry our load for us? 

Why not instead of worrying I think about how much I have.  About the health of my family and friends.  Thank Him for my precious family and friends.  For my job.  For good food on the table.  For SO MUCH.  Why focus on that one little thing that's out of whack?

It's something I work on daily.  Some days even hourly. Trying not to stress over the things I can't change, or that may not ever even happen. 

My friend sent me this email this morning just as I was proofing this post.  She knows me too well.  She sees my struggle.  She's heard my fears. 

The Worry Chart

• 40% of all things we worry about never happen
• 30% have already happened and we can’t do anything about them
• 12% needless worry about health
• 10% petty miscellaneous issues
• 8% real issues 1/2 we can't do little about, and the other 1/2 we can


If this is an issue that you deal with, I urge you to get in the Word.  Pray.  Journal.  But most importantly, give it to Him.  He already knows what's going to happen, yesterday, today and tomorrow. 

"Don't worry about tomorrow.  Jesus is already there!" 

10-5-1 and a little 'deep thinking'

May 3rd we put our house on the market.

We had 5 showings in 10 days.

On the 10th day we had a contract on our house.

Ten days. Five showings. One contract.

It's bittersweet. This was our first home. Yes, we lived in California for 10 months and in an apartment for a year, but this was our first real home. We put in blood, sweat and tears into this house. Literally. Blood. Sweat. Tears.

There have been so many wonderful memories at this little house. I've loved making it ours. I can't imagine it not being 'home' anymore, but I know we'll make the next house a home just as much as we have this one.

We're moving to an apartment for the time being. Our house has not been started yet. The land has been bought and the plans picked out, but nothing started. As of now, I'd get lost in the jungle of the brush that has grown up on our once mowed lot.

But, soon enough, the brush will be cleared, the foundation will be laid and a house will be built.

I'm feeling a little metaphorical today. So, lets lay it out.

How many times do we let the weeds and brush grow up in our own lives? We don't tend to the things at hand and then all of a sudden, they are out of control; seeming to choke us out of the beauty that lay beneath.

How often do we picture that nicely manicured lawn in our heads of the way it 'used to look' but at second glance, there's all kinds of mess growing up around?

What about your life? My life? How often do we think everything is rocking along just fine, going through the motions, but then just like that, things change. Brush grows up.

What is your mess, your brush? Is it anger? Is it bitterness? Is it jealousy? Is it resentment? Is it fear? Is it addiction?

Mess looks different in each life. My mess may look completely different from yours, but truth be told, it's there.

We each have our own brush that needs clearing, but how do you clear it out?

Is it forgiveness? Is it admitting when you've wronged someone? Is it confronting when you've been wronged? Is it asking for help? Is it writing a letter you don't send? 

Whatever it is, I'd imagine it all comes down to Grace. Grace was at one point received. So grace must be given.

Clear the brush. Make a good, flat, clear spot for that foundation.

Sometimes though, when you lay a foundation, you've got to dig deeper than you think. More work than you planned. It's hard work, but the foundation is the most important thing.  It's worth it to put in the hard work on the front end to get it just right.   

Because, there's a house waiting to be built there. And good things are imminent.

Can I get a week of Sundays?

Yesterday was one of those days I'd just like to freeze and enjoy forever.  We all slept in, not having to get up and rush for church.  Don't get me wrong.  I love our church and am so thankful for it, but there's something about a slow morning day that is so refreshing. 

We had cinnamon toast and blueberries on the deck.  A picnic.  My boy loves a picnic. 

We played with the water table (thanks Uncle Matt & Lauren!!!), filled and dumped out bowls of water, gave out kisses, smiles all day long. 

I'll take days like this any time they're handing them out. 

After lunch it was way past time for a nap.  

The new trend at our house is nap on a pallet in the floor.  He won't nap in his bed and he loves to nap with one of us, but a pallet is doing the trick for now.  He thinks he's big.  He is big.  He's nearly the length of the quilt that I lay down for him. 

The boys napped and momma sat on the deck for close to 3 glorious hours reading The Hunger Games.  I finished Book 1. 

I was getting dinner ready and the boys were on the front porch waiting on the rain.  I passed by and saw this.   

It's moments like these I have to stop and pinch myself. These two are my heart. I love them so much. I love catching moments like this when they don't even know I'm looking.

I see many more talks like this.  I can see the concentration in L, as his brow is raised.  He's really listening to his son.  And I see the amusement in E as he looks up to his daddy, telling him one heck of a story, I'd imagine. 

I don't know what they were talking aout, and it's really not too importatant.  What is important is the relationship that these two have and will continue to have as the years go on.

As Lance said yesterday 'can you believe that he's ours forever?' 

A blessing indeed.  A true gift. 

Simply Sunday

We woke up a little late, but still managed to make it to church, and only a few minutes late.  There are some mornings, you just know you are supposed to be at church & this was one of those mornings. 

Being Palm Sunday, we worshiped in song the whole service.  It was absoultely powerful and breathtaking.  I had no where else to wipe my eyes by the end of the service. 

I love a good sermon, but there is something so peaceful and cleansing about praising the Lord in song and music.  So powerful.  A service to be remembered in my book. 

I felt the Lord really tugging on my heart.  I feel as a mom, I love so strong.  I love so hard.  I can bring myself to tears when I think of him sometimes. He's just that wonderful to me.  I know I'm not the only mom out there that feels this way.  But he's my first.  And the one who made me a mom.  And he's just special.  So special.    

But, in my loving, I'm also worrying. I'm wondering 'what if?' this and 'what if?' that.  I think 'what would I ever do if...?'  Fill in the blanks.  I'm sure I've thought whatever it is you've filled in.

But I really felt strongly the Lord saying 'Annie, he's Mine.  He is a gift I've give you.  Trust Me with him.  Give him to Me.'  And it clicked.

For so long now, I've felt like 'Lord, I can't give him all the way to You, because what if in doing so You take him back from me?'  But yesterday was different.  Yesterday it was clear. 'He's mine'.

So now, again, instead of focusing on the 'what if's' and the things that could never in a million years happen, I need to take these days I have with him and celebrate.  Choose Joy if you will.

I need to make sure that the little boy I'm raising see's Jesus in what I do.  I need to make sure that I'm teaching him to be happy and live each day to the fullest.  To know and see love in everything we do.  To respond in love.  To radiate love and light. 

It just clicked.  And I wept at the relief and the peace I felt during that sermon.  He's Jesus's.     

I'm so thankful that we made it to church.  Each Sunday is a test in patience as we try to get out the door, on time, but I'm so thankful that yesterday we made it.

On a lighter note, our afternoon was spent outside in the unseasonably warm April temperatures.  The boys napped and I worked on a dress.  I decided if I was going to work, I wanted to be in the sun.  So, I moved my sewing machine outside.  And I did just that.  It's funny how work isn't really work when it's where you want to be, doing what you want to be doing. 

 After nap, we washed our cars and played outside.  To say he's all boy would be an understatement for sure!  He washed and scrubbed and rinsed and washed again.  Cleanest little car I ever did see. 

 And of course, it wouldn't be any fun if we didn't find a puddle to jump in.  This provided a good 17 minutes of entertainment.  He'd run a figure 8 in the front yard through the puddle, across the driveway, around the water table, through the driveway and back through the puddle. 

We rounded out our Sunday with a trip to Target and Joann. I had to pick up some fabric samples because I've sold 17 {17!!!} dresses!  Let the sewing begin! 

This one's mine and this was taken BEFORE hemming...but they've been quite popular!

So, maybe I've found my niche. 

Happy Monday!

How do you it all???

Sometimes I get this strong urge to be a stay at home mom. That I need to be at home.  That I WANT to be at home with Easton; that this rat race of to and from school and work is such a waste.  No.  Not a waste, because yes I'm making money to help provide for our family and help save money for our new house, but a waste, because I'm not with him.  And he's growing up way too fast. 

He's almost 2 folks.  23 months old yesterday.  Where did the time go?  Perhaps even if I stayed at home I'd feel the same way, like where did the time go? But I'd know that I'd have been right there beside him every step of the way.  But, right now.  I'm not. 

He's at school most of the day.   I get 5-6 hours a day with him during the week.  An hour in the morning, 30 minutes to and from school and about 3-4 hours at night, depending on the night.   Most of our morning is spent rushing to get ready to go to school, and our afternoon rushing home to make dinner, clean up, do laundry, get baths, etc.  The weekends are our real times together. And I cherish our weekends. 

However, there is a silver lining. He goes to a fabulous school.  He learns so much.  He is leaps and bounds above other kids his age in some aspects.  He can fill in the blank on the Pledge of Allegiance, he can fill in the blanks from 1-10, he knows most of his ABC's, he can say just about everything we can, he is social, he is outgoing, he can share.  If I was at home, I don't know that he'd know all of this.  I would like to think that I'd be organized and routine enough to have 'school' for a few minutes throughout the day where we work our letters and numbers and colors.  But I've never had that chance, so I can't say for sure.  Either way, I'm so thankful for his school and the opportunity he has to be there while we're apart.   

But this time apart comes with a price.  And a lack of patience some days on my part.  I know I'm not the only mother that works outside of the home, but I'm really struggling to find a balance.  Where I can fulfil my duties as a wife and mother and work outside the home.  Right now I have the feeling, that I do a lot, but do nothing WELL. 

Take this morning for example.  Before we even got out the door I was a flustered mess.  He hit is head in the bathroom, he was crying, it was time to change clothes, he didn't want to change clothes, he didn't want to wear his jacket, he wanted to take the loudest.toy.possible. in the car with us, he wanted to walk down the steps himself, he didn't want to get in his carseat, the list could go on.  All of this before 7:20.  And let me tell you, he's a GOOD BOY.  Really.  He doesn't give me a lick of trouble most days, other than not listening the first time asked.  But normally, with enough patience from me, and a few attempts, he makes a good choice and does what is asked.  And we go on our merry way. 

But this morning, I was on edge.  I was running late.  I was tired.  SO, I was low on patience.  And he's the one that paid for it.  And that's not fair.  It's days like this where I just want to say screw it, we're staying home.  I want to put my yoga pants on and take it in slow motion.  Just the two of us.  You know, open the blinds, let the sunshine in, make up the beds, read books, take a walk, eat lunch, take a nap, play outside, play blocks, throw in a few chores here and there. 

But, I can't.  We have to rush.  We have to beat the traffic.  I have to drop him off.  I have to go to work. 

I know there are plenty of SAHM's who feel the same way.  Overwhelmed, overbooked, under appreciated,  not enough hours in the day.  I really cannot imagine all that goes into staying at home and being everthing to the kids at all times.  I'm sure they'd like to come sit in my cubicle for a day some days too.  Whether you work at home as a SAHM (yes, a SAHM DOES work) or outside the home, it's a challenge to find your groove.   

I also know that there would be days if I was a SAHM that I would long to sit in my cubicle and have 8 hours to myself. Where I could go to the bathroom on my own, eat lunch in quiet. And to be quite honest, I do like my little cubicle. My little home away from home. I love my co-workers and my job. It's fulfilling to add an extra deposit to the spreadsheet, ya know. But, some days, it's just a bit much. I just want to do one or the other. It's hard being both. Every day.

So, cherish that time at home with your little ones.  Because today, today I'd like to be at home with mine. 

How do you find balance? In your situation, how do you do it all???