What 10 Years Can Do: A Reflection

Every one of my children's births was amazing for completely different reasons.  Ask me about them when I see you next because (like most other mothers on the planet) I love to talk about it. But there is something about that first one, no matter how perfect or broken the whole affair was, that moments from it are frozen into your heart so deeply that they almost don't feel real.  

Crunchy leaves outside beneath the huge pecan tree in our yard.  Learning to remember all the baby things for a simple trip to the store.  Agony of learning to breastfeed and the surreal joy of getting him to laugh.  Our living room was quite long, but kind of narrow with only one window in it.  In the early days after Jude was born, we rearranged furniture a bit so that his bed could be put in there during the day and he could soak up the sun to fight off a little jaundice.  There was a moment when I looked at him across the room sleeping away, the sun shining down on his sweet face, and I wanted to know who he was going to be so desperately.  What was he going to be like?  

Little did I know, much of who he was I could already see.  In that same living room, I had looked into his eyes for the first time and I saw this old soul who looked straight into my heart. He was taking me in almost as much as I was him.  My oldest son has always been an observer with a deep heart.  That little tree frog who loved to cuddle onto my shoulder as an infant still tries to sit in my lap and hug me more than all the others.  Being born in November in Oklahoma, you would expect a lot of bundling up throughout the winter, but he hated socks and hats caused him to get too hot.  He is still much more comfortable in shorts regardless of the weather.

What I didn't know was how naturally athletic he would be.  He loves playing ball of just about any kind and picks things up so quick, which makes his dad a tad envious!  I didn't know how easy and hard it would be to have a boy.  I also didn't know how I was going to royally mess things up while still getting some important things really right.  I didn't expect 10 to be here yet.  I guess that happens when you have a 3rd child that looks just like the oldest one and you get busy.  So here I am, with a 3 year old miniature version of my first one except he acts nothing like him, and a 10 year old that is learning to become a man, piece by piece. And suddenly I realize I could start really taking notes in church now.  I haven't been able to maintain that for over 10 years!

More than anything, I never imagined how much he would be like me and how much that would challenge me to grow.  I'm not the same person I was the moment he was finally born and I was in shock that he was a boy.  That naïve and idealistic girl has gotten more wake up calls than I'd like to admit, but I've also been given much more than I deserve.  I've always been really sensitive to the state of mind other people are carrying around and (for better and worse) he is the same.  If he could, he would just live on a farm and take care of animals all day, or go hiking or go fishing or just be outside. He loves with his WHOLE heart and feels despair deep.  It's a beautiful thing, but, as I know all too well, it can spin out of control really fast.  And If I am to expect him to manage himself, then I need to do the same.  That is something I'm still working on, but we're all growing together.  And for that I'm very thankful.

When other people's children have turned 10, it really wasn't that big of a deal to me because socially I think we fixate on 13, 16 and 18.  But let me tell you, 10 is a DECADE! To the mom, it's a big deal and it has brought me to this place where I'm evaluating my entire motherhood journey because of the milestone and where everyone is at right now.  Who I thought I would be or even wanted to be is, well. complicated at best.  My baby is still really cute and a lot of fun.  My daughter is still snuggly but becoming a a really good helper when she stays on task.  And my oldest is a doing really ok - not perfect, not done growing - but doing okay. Considering what I mess I feel half the time, I think it's really important to say that out loud!  When Jude was born, the spotlights of my mind shifted drastically and seem to have been twirling around ever since.  This year, for all of its hassles and heartaches, has brought some really powerful blessings.  I turned 40, my son turns 10, I like my husband more than I did last year, and I'm learning to cope with myself in ways I've never thought possible.  I miss that sweet cuddle bug and wish I could give that brand new mom a hug and some better advice than what she was telling herself.  But I'm in awe of some of the things we have navigated and bounced back from.  Even though it's complicated, my momma heart is so full.  Happy 10th Birthday!

39: A Year of Preparation

I turned 39 a couple of weeks ago.  Since the new year began we have had a lot of sickness in our house, I have had some depression, and two deaths, one of which was really sudden and completely unexpected.  It's January and it's cold.  When all of these things collide, even the introvert starts to feel isolated and alone.  Now that everyone appears to be staying well, it feels like I'm starting the new year all over again, except January is almost gone!

Before life so rudely interrupted me, I had big plans for 39.  I've coined it my year of preparation.  I know 40 is just a number, but it still causes you to take stock in your life and evaluate where you have succeeded or not.  And since I have a tendency to rush ahead and borrow trouble, I've pre-evaluated myself at 40 and found myself wanting.  Since I don't particularly appreciate failure (even if it is self-inflated), I've decided to spend this year preparing for 40.

I guess failure is a strong word.  What I'm really circling around are the ways I haven't reached my potential.  The physical toll running a household, having children and homeschooling them has taken on my body and mind is far greater than I ever anticipated.  My natural inclinations to read, play/sing music, creatively explore in general have been muted at best by the very significant needs of the precious souls running around my house.  In short, I just haven't kept in mental shape the way I expected to (before kids).

My baby is almost 2 (in April), Mr. Butler and I are committed to getting in better shape physically, and there are no major hurdles preventing healthier habits.  So, here are a few areas where I'm committing to spending more time in this year:

- Reading, both the Bible and other good books.  I'm determined to reignite this love!

- Music: Singing and playing the piano are things that have come easily to me when I spend time in them.  For mental health, I need to invest more time here.

- Writing as a Practice.  With extra time being more of a luxury after kids, my writing has been by demand rather than an exercise routine.  I need to exercise my writing with the intent to cultivate quality and creativity.

- Friendship.  I'm not great at friendship without full plate.  I'm awkward and nervous and terrified of bothering people. But I'm also lonely a lot.  So, pursuing friendship is mandatory this year.

Regrets are just so ugly and I want to have as few as possible.  Setting some intentions and goals for this year is one of the best ways to diminish the number of regrets I have AND cultivate a healthier version of me!

No Nonsense November: Birthday Party Panic

One of my most favorite things as a kid were birthday parties - especially mine or my brothers.  My mom did a great job every year making the whole thing special and fun.  So, of course, doing the same is important to me.  Doesn't mean I'm great at it, but it's important to me.

Well, in the spirit of full-disclosure, I'm so not prepared this year for J's birthday (which is Sunday, party Saturday).  I'm so unprepared that yesterday we just changed themes from Blue's Clues to Thomas the Train.  Sometimes I hate taking the easy way out, but in this case the easier way was the only way to survive! To get Blue's Clues related decorations you either have to order it from Etsy type places or make it yourself! And when I glanced around Party Galaxy yesterday, there was loads of Thomas stuff.  It didn't hurt either that I was getting super overwhelmed, Jude was running around like a crazy and when I asked him what he would rather have Baseball, Blues Clues or Thomas, he practically yelled Thomas!

It's not like it really matters in the grand scheme of things.  It probably doesn't even matter in the tiny scheme of things.  But letting go and just rolling with it was a big deal for me.  I want so badly to be thorough, detailed and IN CONTROL that I dismiss ideas and options too quickly sometimes just because they aren't ideal or perfect.  But I'm being forced to accept my reality in a lot of ways, whether I like it or not.  And one of those big realities is that in this season of life (two small children, part-time work, husband in school and under job stress), I certainly can't do it all and not exactly the way I'd want to in a perfect world.

Ugh.  Just saying it makes me scoff a little at the thought.  I just hate it, but I'm learning to accept it.  And don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with Thomas! ha! It'll probably be more fun and festive than Blue's Clues anyway.

Night and Day: 2 Birth Stories

Warning: Birth stories aren't everyone's cup of tea so if you're not into details just skim or skip altogether!
Next week we're going to talk all about babies from pregnancy to birth order since it's all fresh on my mind.  To kick things off, here's my childbirth experiences with my two kids.

If only we could all start with the second time around!  Once you've done something, at least once, it makes more sense.  The advice others give you actually computes and you feel a bit more capable.  This was the case with me.

When I gave birth to my first born J, it was like trying to give a cat a bath.  Before the real contractions set it, I was convinced that it wouldn't be that bad.  Truthfully, I needed to believe that otherwise I would have been in full panic mode.  Thankfully, that came later. :) Everything about this labor took longer.  My water broke one day and I didn't give birth until the next.  Labor started in the wee hours of the morning and he was born at dinner time.  Pushing was almost 2 hours.  Short compared to some I'm sure, but to this girl who had expected a baby by lunch, way too long.  But of course, I made it longer than it had to be because I was so frightened and tense that I mentally (and thus physically) ran in the opposite direction.  There's only one way out and I was trying to avoid it like the plague.

So, the entire experience around J was long, hard and stressful, but there was this one, most beautiful thing about it all.  Once the real contractions began, I didn't think I could do it.  Any of it.  If it wasn't coming right then, well, I couldn't do anything different.  So, therefore, it wasn't happening.  I gave up and looked for a miraculous short-cut somewhere.  The most beautiful thing? I did do it.  In my living room, with Mr. Butler's supportive arms around me and no drugs, I worked harder than I'd ever in my life and gave birth to a beautiful (big - 9 lb 4 oz) boy!

When Miss Z was born, things were practically perfect!  But then why shouldn't they have been? I had many factors working for me this time around - I was in better shape, I knew I could do it again,  I had prepared with hypnosis (Blissborn worked beautifully for me!) and I was just prepared this time.  My due date had come and gone so by when the day finally came we were skeptical of everything.  False starts seemed to be the only thing I ever talked about anymore!  I woke up early to real contractions every 15 minutes for an hour and a half.  We alerted some folks and then they promptly quit.  As in nothing.

Still, Mr. Butler stayed home from work and my mom came over.  I walked, ate, and rested.  We agreed that if things weren't happening by lunch time then he would go back to work.  As if like clockwork, lunch time comes and the contractions start in.  So, what do we do? Snack and play trivia pursuit!  Everything was 12-17 minutes for a while.  Around three (times and lengths are a bit sketchy so forgive me) the contractions are more intense and 7-10 minutes apart.  My mom, who over-prepares, gets a bit nervous, thinking the midwives should be called.  Mr. Butler, who under-reacts to everything, delays calling, thinking we have a while.  And why shouldn't he think that?  It took hours to get from where I was right then to actual pushing.  A few minutes labor the contractions dropped to every 4 minutes or so.  Needless to say, he called.  And then couldn't get a hold of anyone.  So, there was mild panic for a little bit.

After that, things get a bit fuzzy mostly because everything went so fast! About the time the midwife (and attendant) got there, we sent Jude with my sister-in-law down the street.  Before I know what's going on, they are trying to get me to lay down - which I didn't really want to do only because I didn't want to mess with what was working.  But, I had been standing for about 3 hours.  They had a good point.  As I lay down and rest a bit, they checked me and I was dilated to a 5.  Not too shabby, but only halfway there. The contractions grew harder.

You're told that when you get the urge to push, go with it.  Well, I never felt anything like that with J.  I was a basket-case and the only thing I felt with him was "Make it STOP!"  So, as I'm laying down my body starts having a mind of its own and I'm certain its NOT time to push because it was too quick.  And yet, it just wouldn't quit.  So, approximately 30 minutes after they checked the last time I had since dilated all the way.  I was ready to go and this baby was coming.  Mr. Butler and I both were in shock! Less than 30 more minutes (of pushing) and Miss Z surprised us even further.  She arrived at 5:34pm and she was a girl!

Night and day I tell you.  What's so neat is how much (so far) their personalities mirror their births.  J is loud and big.  Miss Z is clear and calm.  And they complement each other and us so beautifully.  God is so wise and good.

Happy Birthday, Jude: What the 2nd Year Brings

It's that time again.  My little boy turns 2 today and I love it!  When he was a few weeks old, I remember saying how much I wanted to know what kind of a person he was going to be. What would he like? What would his nature be?  And now, I love who he is and can't remember when I learned all about him!

This second year has brought horses, more books, basketball, JUMPING, cuddling in mom and dad's bed, and so. much. talking! For me as a mom, this second year has brought yelling - which I never wanted to do, threats - which sound ridiculous as I say them, and punishment - which is hardly consistent.  That being said, I love how he teaches me to grow - when I don't want to, when it's hard and especially, when it's inconvenient. 

We were very blessed with a beautiful (if a little windy) day to celebrate with a few friends.  I'm so very grateful for how much love J sees in his life.  It's natural to desire (even demand on some days) the ideal or the best for your child/life/day/circumstance but ultimately we never really control it.  The lesson I'm slowly, slowly learning is that the love is what matters.  And love just oozes out when I see these guys! Happy 2nd Birthday Jude!

Why I Really Don't Like Birthdays

When I was a little girl birthdays consisted of a few basic elements.  A few relatives sent you birthday cards in the mail (ya know, snail mail).  A few friends, cousins and other relatives would come to your house and help you celebrate. There would always be a birthday cake, with ice cream (sometimes two flavors), party games and presents.  Because you were a kid, most everyone watched you expectantly, hoping you had a good time, liked their presents and helping you blow out all the candles.  By the time you crashed into bed that night, you had a birthday high that would last a week.  Or maybe that was just me. :)

As you age birthdays change of course.  For me it was ridiculous slumber parties.  Some have skating parties or bowling parties.  There's the infamous boy/girl parties.  Nowadays, especially for the emerging adolescent, birthdays are often about competition with the neighbors or cool kids at school, looking for the newest 'thing.'  And unless it's a major milestone like 30, 40 or 50, you don't usually get a full planned out party as an adult.  Adult parties are friends going out to dinner or just eating food in your honor, maybe with a cake.   

I have always LOVED my birthday and loved feeling special on it.  Sure, I was disappointed when a special friend or something forgot or didn't come to my party, but the ones who did remember and wanted to come to MY party, they made everything great.  Today though, with the internet and the vicious Facebook you are not expected to remember anyone's birthday.  This article proves how conditioned we are.  This has been a burr in my saddle for a while and reading this prompted me to get a few things off my chest.  Forgive me while I rant a bit.

I currently have 564 'friends' on facebook.  I know there are not 564 people in my life that are so special to me that I should/want to remember their birthday in order to express some sweet or grateful sentiment about their life.  No offense to the 400+ that I don't talk to, but we're not that close.  So here's my problem: If I am going to honor someone's birthday, I want it to be special.  If someone is going to honor my birthday, I want it to be special.  Facebook happy birthdays to me are not special.  Maybe a mention in someone's status or a direct private message, but the flood of one sentence comments on my wall, not so much.  And furthermore, with all of these birthdays I'm now constantly exposed to, I feel like I should especially acknowledge everyone and since I can't do that, I sit still and do nothing.  Feeling lame just the same.

Some will say I'm too sensitive or I care too much about silly things.  Maybe.  But to me there some things in life that are too rich to let pass by on the surface without really experiencing them.  And some might think I'm writing this for selfish reasons and that might have some truth to it, but not really.  If I'm not important to you, if I'm not a part of your life, I don't want or need your birthday acknowledgements and I certainly don't want a present.  Not because I think you are bad, but because it just doesn't mean anything. Like the birthday card from your dentist or insurance agent.  Big whoop! :)

I know that we're all busy and almost too connected with too many people, but I'm starting to think that that fact is a red flag to many other problems.  Perhaps the solution is in paring down the number of people/activities/priorities that we are glued to.  In trying to do many things we often succeed poorly instead of choosing a few in which to succeed at.