And miles to go before I sleep... and bad losers.

Last weekend I realized I have not slept through the night in over a year.  Nathan raised an eyebrow and questioned my math, "Arabella is not even a year old."  I reminded him that in the last month of pregnancy, I had to get up to go to the bathroom every night.  He quickly jumped on board my pity party and validated my grumpiness.  He tried to empathize and say neither had he slept through the night in that long.  Now, I know he is a light sleeper and wakes easily when he's here.  And I also recognize that he stays at his new job very late, often past midnight.  However, I had to pursue it a little further.  "You didn't sleep the whole night through since you've been staying at the Hilton in Indianapolis?"
"Well....uh...I have to get up and go to the bathroom..."
"Oh.  I didn't realize you didn't sleep well there. What about when you went to Asia?"
"No, I uh had jetlag and my sleep schedule was completely off."
"Oh right.  Well, what about when you went to San Diego."
After a wide, moony grin wiped across his face, he said, "Yes.  I did sleep very well there.  It was pretty great."
"Must be nice."

She could sleep in Italy

The thing is Bella used to be my sleeper.  She took naps easily and slept soundly.  She would go to sleep in the evening and only wake once in the middle of the night and then once really early in the morning.  I felt like the Lord was finally blessing me with a child who liked to sleep as much as I do.  However, she is like her brothers now.  She no longer needs sleep.  Or rather wants it.  She is clearly growing out of her morning nap, just like her brothers did.  Neither of them took two naps much past the 12 month old mark.  Currently, I'm lucky if she sleeps 45 minutes in the morning.  Her afternoon naps can still be considerable, if we can get her to sit still long enough.  Also just like her brothers, she has given up the pacifier.  All three of them reached a point where they would yank it out of their mouth, or my hand if they saw it coming, and throw it to the other side of the room.  They would look at me with contempt as if to say "DON'T STICK THAT THING IN MY MOUTH AGAIN!"  While it's nice to not have them need a pacifier any more, the flip side is that all three are then inconsolable. 

Me by Thursday morning

The worst has been this last week; even worse than her newborn weeks, .  She has awakened about 4 times a night.  I don't know if she's teething.  I don't know if her belly is hurting her.  I don't know if she's hungry.  What I do know is I can't go much longer living like this.  I can barely function, especially parenting alone for most of the week.  The poor boys must think I've lost my mind and I kind of feel like I must look similar to Cruella DeVille.  Naturally, my patience is thin and my temper is quick.  I have been praying about it and I hope God will resolve this problem easily and painlessly.  Did you just laugh?

And now, let me tell you about some poor losers.  UK just suffered a heartbreaking loss to UNC.  Carter could not eat dinner because he was lamenting.  He took it really hard.  Will tried to make him feel better and encourage him.  But nothing worked.  Then Carter sat bolt upright, he ran to the supply shelf and returned with a light blue sheet of paper.  He wrote UNC on it.  Then he violently crumpled it up and said "THIS IS NORTH CAROLINA!"

Then he ripped it.
He chewed it up and spit it out.
Then he threw it out into the snow.
It's awaiting to be run over with the car, so he made another one.
The stabbed it with needles.  They punched it and jumped on it.
(Notice the pronoun has changed - that's because his dad and brother joined in on the satisfying action)

Then they microwaved it.  Stuck it in the freezer.  Then...unbeknownst to others in the house, he threw it in the toiled at urinated on it.  Now I think they are going to flush it.  At least, I hope that is the plan.

Just be glad it wasn't Tennessee.  I'm sure armed weapons and worse bodily functions would have been involved.

***Post Script:  The night after posting this, Arabella slept for 6 uninterrupted hours for the first time in her life.  After this mother had that much sleep, she was full of frenetic energy the next morning, and speculated this must be what one feels like after 3 or 4 espressos.  But first, she praised the gracious Lord - seriously.  Thank you, Lord!

"Let me explain...No, there is too much. Let me sum up."

Buttercup marries Humperdink in little less than half an hour. I love The Princess Bride

So, let me sum up: It looks like we're moving...to Indiana. After two full-day interviews, a couple of months of silence and assuming they'd found someone else, a job offer, an angry former employer, being slapped with a temporary restraining order, going to court, laboring through settlement negotiations, and trying to figure out how the move would actually proceed, we will be moving...to flat, cold Indiana. I include the map below to show you it's precarious position NORTH of the Ohio River. *shudders*

Yes, I know, you're jealous of our new exotic location. I can admit that it's not what I really want. I can say that I'm less than thrilled to move from a town I really love, to take my kids out of a really wonderful school, and to leave friends and family. But, it was clearly God's will and my dad told me that the most dangerous place you can be is outside of what God wants. He is taking it much better than I am. He's a dad though, and he can see how professional advancement is good for his grandchildren and their future. That, and he's just a great dad.

Nathan started his new job about a month ago and has been staying there during the weeks and coming home on the weekends. He seems to like his new job and new employer. But I can't help but think he has to be lonely without us. I mean, he's living in a Hilton. Where these nice ladies come in and straighten his room and clean his bathroom every day. That has to be so annoying after living here. Who needs a bathroom cleaned every single day anyway? And there's that breakfast buffet. If you know Nathan, you know Nathan hates buffets. He likes the cold cereal he gets here. And what about getting to go where you want, when you want, as fast as you want? That just gets old. There's nothing like trying to herd three kids into the van and get them all settled down into a seatbelt and then listen to them talk endlessly about whatever it is they talk about while you desperately try to listen to the radio. That is a skill set he is totally losing. And let's not forget how much he is missing the baby...in the middle of the night. I get to enjoy her every night, several times as she has yet to sleep through the night one single time in her 9 months. He is missing out with all the Indiana sleeping he's doing. Poor guy. So lonely.

Meanwhile, down here in the Promised Land, we are on a strict weekly schedule. I love a good schedule and really don't deal well with deviations. My kids love deviations. Or rather, they must love to cause deviations. They get strep throat (for the first time ever, might I add), antibiotic allergic reactions, and stomach bugs that just throw us into a tailspin. I cannot schedule those and they know it. Being a single mom is really much harder than I ever thought. And don't get me wrong, I pretty much suspected it was going to be exhausting. But I rather egotistically thought I could get this good schedule going, because experts tell us that KIDS LOVE SCHEDULES. Perhaps these experts haven't met my kids. The genetic offspring of Mr. Fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants Go-with-the-flow. I believed those experts because I love a schedule. Apparently that is not a dominant trait on the DNA double helix.

So, when are you actually moving, you are asking. That is a super good question. Since the job offer basically coincided with the beginning of school and the subsequent legal snare took us about a month into school, we didn't want to move the boys out of classes they were already settled into. Not to mention schools they both know well and feel secure in. Carter's school is wonderful and he has made it clear he doesn't want to move from it. I admit the fact that Will won't go to Kindergarten there next year brings tears to my eyes each time I think about it. Also, we have to fix up and sell our current house. And from what I hear, we are in a recession and the housing market is kind of flat right now. The short answer to when we will actually move is: at the end of the school year. At least, that is how I see it. Nathan might see it earlier than that, especially with how lonely he is and how clean that Hilton bathroom is. Carter has said he thinks he'll have to move there by the time he graduates from high school. Will is only vaguely aware of moving, and Arabella, she couldn't care less.

Even though this situation is difficult, I'm learning a lot. I've learned that I can't do it on my own even with a good schedule. I have to let others help me. I have to ask for help. I have to admit that I am not Super Woman or even Martha Stewart. Most importantly, I have to ask an all-powerful God for strength and patience every. single. day. minute. I have learned that my children are sinners. And that, like Paul, I am the worst of them. They have more patience with me than I do with them a lot of the time. They are tender-hearted and really love responsibility.

These days, I am surprised at how old Carter seems. He's like the best big brother anyone could want. Arabella lights up when he gets home from school. She clearly wants his attention and basks in it when she gets it. Carter is so good with her it amazes me. He talks sweetly to her and holds her and plays with her. He never even complains that many times his job is to get Arabella to stop crying. Maybe twice he has said, "Sometimes, it's hard being the oldest." God has given him the personality for being oldest: responsible, introspective, and caring. Will is, for the most part, like a ray of sunshine. He is buoyant and light. He loves hugs and just wants to do what Carter is doing. Where Carter seems like an old soul, Will is the innocent. He sometimes reminds me of Spongebob in that optimistic, wide-eyed, carefree way. And Arabella is the Baby Petite Princess she was born to be. She smiles and the charms every where she goes. We are often stopped by people who tell us she is the prettiest baby they've ever seen and are amazed at her eyes. They are violet. And she is already trying to keep up with her brothers. She is crawling around and very dissatisfied at how slow that goes. Therefore, she is pulling up every chance she finds and even tries to push herself up when nothing to pull up on is near. Just the other day, I found her in a downward facing dog position. So, I'm sure she'll be up and running in no time.

The best part of the whole thing is how clearly God is taking care of us, showing us grace and mercy, and really giving us strength. He is faithful to us and loves us. He is good all the time.

Technical Difficulties

I don't know what I want to talk about. Our lovely trip to Italy with our sweet Bella? Carter being the very first Star Student of the Week for this year? Our impending move to Indianapolis? Will's new trick to avoid doing what he doesn't want to do? My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day? I just don't know.

Carter's First Day of Second Grade

My baby started 2nd grade this week. He was more than ready to be back in the happy confines of his school and with his friends. He was quite excited that a good buddy of his is finally in the same class. He was up early, dressed, breakfast eaten, and leaning against the couch fidgeting by 7:50 am. He walked the quarter mile as fast as his legs would take him, only bothering to pause at the corner Crossing Guard. And we were happy since it allowed the rest of us time to catch up with him.

At the newly renovated front door, a wide variety of teachers were posted; each greeted him by name. Mr. One-Track-Mind threw out cursory responses and kept motoring. He marched to his room, sat down at his desk, and was ready for business.

This is where a good mother would upload a picture of her son, sitting at his new desk, in his beloved school, all ready for 2nd grade. However, this mother wasn't that prepared. Didn't know exactly where the camera was. Forgot that maybe a picture would be a nice idea for the future. And clearly that lack of enthusiasm was shared by a son who didn't even seem to care whether the rest of his family stayed of left.

In an effort to be caring parents, Nathan leaned over to wish him well and I behind him. That would be when Nathan pivoted and stepped on my flip-flop-wearing foot. And it hurt. I mean, I was pretty sure a couple toes were broken and I was afraid to look and see if any toenails might fall off. So, I was trying really hard not to yell or cry. Nathan, so lovingly retorted, "Why do you always wear flip-flops? I step on your feet all the time." It's true. He and Will have stepped on my feet at least 10 times in the last month. I could barely hear him say this though because the pain in my foot was screaming so loudly. I hobbled outside and I tried to focus on just anything so as not to fall to the ground in a ball and cry like my 7 month old.

That would be when my friend Retta spied me. She asked "Are you okay?" And I suddenly realized that all these fine people in the elementary hallway probably thought I was having an emotional breakdown over my son's first day of 2nd grade. And for some reason, that was WORSE?! I mean, shouldn't that be better than crying because your husband has temporarily maimed you? So, not wanting her to think I was weak and sentimental about my son - who clearly was neither of those - I pushed out the explanation, "Nathan just stepped. on. my. foot." Seriously, she seemed relieved. Like maybe she thought "Oh good. I thought you were going to have a breakdown about school starting. That would be totally inappropriate for 2nd grade."

That's when we saw another friend who invited us over for a doughnut. I didn't really want a doughnut, but her house is only 1/16 of a mile from the school and that seemed like a good place to be. However, I was in such pain that I failed to realize that her house was 1/16 of a mile in the opposite direction. I hobbled to her house regardless and split a chocolate covered Magee's doughnut with Nathan. I couldn't actually speak to socialize because, again, I was pretty sure I had a broken foot and the pain was not going away. The world around me began to get fuzzy and I just wanted to get home. Nathan helped me hobble the .3125 miles home.

I landed on the couch and Will plopped on the floor in the shape of big T and asked, "When does MY school start? Next day?" I squeaked out "Next WEEK." He groaned. I groaned.

Luckily, as the day wore on, my foot became less painful and I was able to walk there in the afternoon for dismissal. Carter brought home a worksheet he'd filled out about what he expected 2nd grade would be like. I would post a picture of it - but well, I don't know where the camera is. Then I'd have to upload it, which would require me to find the cords - you get the picture. Besides, it's 2nd grade and school is old hat. But I will tell you what he wrote:

I think this year will be a good school year because I will be abel to walk home by my saf (however the school policy has changed and he won't be able to walk home by him saf).

This school year I hope to learn to driv a car.

I am excited about this school year because It is very easy.

I'm pretty sure he's not going to find learning to driv a car very easy because his feet don't even reach the pedals. So, 2nd grade might be a disappointment for him.

Conversations with Kids

Me: Will, are you passing gas?
Will: No.
Me: Will, you are passing gas. I can smell it.
Will: No, your bottom burped! (laughing hysterically)

I'm pretty sure the advertising geniuses at Toyota read this and then they did this:

Conversations Between Kids

Lying on the floor of Mimi's and Doc's house.

Carter: Wiiiill, stop it! You're going to hurt her!
Will: I loooove her!
Carter: YOU'RE LYING RIGHT ON TOP OF HER!
Will: I'm HUGGING her.
Carter: You're HURTING her, Will.
Will: She's MY girl.
Carter: No, she's MY girl.
Arabella: Whaaaaaaaaa.

Sometimes love is so hard to express.

Dear Mother,

I wonder how much you know about your granddaughter. I sometimes forget that we just found out we were having a girl when you died. So, you never even found out what her name would be. Well, it's Arabella Elizabeth Noelle. I know I said I wouldn't give a girl 4 names...but we're dealing with the Decision-Impaired Duo here. I kind of like Elizabeth better, since it's my middle name and your mother's middle name. I think Nathan liked Noelle a little better because it starts with an N, it's pretty, and it means Christmas - which is basically when she was born. Since I don't know how much you know, Mother, I'll start at the beginning.

Arabella was born 12/21/10 at 14:28 p.m. weighing 5 lbs and 8 oz and measuring 18 1/2 inches long. I can tell you are shocked that after having two pretty large boys, I had a girl who was half their size, quite literally. I asked every doctor who darkened my doorstep why she was so small but they would just shrug and smile and say "but she's perfect! She's healthy." I should interject here that she was born on the day the UK's basketball team was the very first in history to reach the 2,000 win mark. She's our little UK2K. Papa bought us all shirts that said UK2K with December 21, 2010 to commemorate it.

Her personality is certainly unique. She's kind of quiet but friendly. She loves it when people talk to her. She lights up and smiles and tries to talk to them. She cries when she's tired, or hungry, or has a messy diaper, but usually no more than that. I know, she's nothing like her eldest brother. ( Daddy likes to tell me about how you watched Carter one night so Nathan and I could go to the movies and he cried the entire time we were gone. But that it didn't bother you.) She kicks her legs like Carter did, though. I can't believe her heels aren't bruised from it. And like Will, I burn at least 50 calories trying to change her diaper. She just can't sit still. She coos and babbles on and on. The boys would say "ba ba ba" or "da da da" but she kind of talks and sings in a lovely soprano. If this baby would have been first, I may have been willing to think about Nathan's plans for 7 of them.

Daddy has told everyone in Harlan that she looks like you. I think that is mainly because in her first months, she was so petite, like you. Her head was little - yes, a child of MINE had a small head. Well, she's grown and now she's not so small and neither is her head. This past weekend, I took her to your church and everyone lined up to see her. She was like a little princess meeting her people. Everyone commented on how she looked like you. I told Nathan "Well, Daddy has gotten to everyone here." But when we were back home, I got out your white photo album - you know, the one in your closet that I was never allowed to touch unless you were there to hold it and turn the pages for me. Well, I got it out and I even took it downstairs! I showed Daddy my baby pictures and he laughed and said "I can't believe it! Arabella looks just like YOU! And I never thought you looked that much like your mother!" So, I'm not sure if now he thinks I look like you or if Arabella looks like me? But he did mention that her head is no long small like it was. Most people think she looks like Carter - who, I have to say, is Papa made over. Anyway, she does look as much like me as a baby and Will looks like Nathan as a 3 year old. She doesn't have a dimple like the boys. She has darker hair, eyebrows and eyelashes than they ever have. And I'm afraid she is not going to have brown eyes like you wanted. I'm sorry, but Carter wanted her to have blue eyes like him and the Lord seems to really favor him, you know. Her eyes are dark blue - kind of like yours - and they don't seem to be changing. Daddy said my eyes were blue for a long time but that you insisted they would be brown...I don't think Arabella's will change, though. It doesn't really matter to me that much except that you were hoping she'd have brown eyes.

Speaking of her brothers, they are crazy about her. Will is so sweet with her and talks and sings to her all day long. His love is sometimes a bit too enthusiastic and we have to caution him. Carter is the typical oldest, protective, proud brother. He told everyone in his class that he was going to have a sister and invited them all to the hospital to see her born. He talks to her so sweetly and reads to her. She lights up when they walk in the room. She adores them.

For now, she is her Mama's girl. I don't think it will last too long; probably as long as my milk does. Nathan wants to hold her all the time. Well, until she starts to cry. Papa has proclaimed her as his Princess and the prettiest baby he's ever seen. Aunt Jo has been so very helpful coming down and she just loves on her and claims she is so happy because of her. She's everyone's baby girl.

I just wish you'd had the chance to meet her yourself.

Adopt, Adopting, Adopted

It seems everywhere I turn these days, I am confronted with adoption. In fact, I kind of feel a little left out because we haven't adopted a child or going through the process of adopting. Our church in particular has many families who have and are adopting children from all over the world! It's really pretty exciting. And following these friends through their journeys is so remarkable and convicting.

In Ephesians 1, Paul tells us "In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—" So, much like a wedding is the picture of Christ and His church, adopting a child represents how we become God's children. I see all the beautiful faces of these children all over our church and am overwhelmed by the fact that I was in an orphanage and God sought me and purchased me and made me his daughter, just like little Maddie Rae from China or Robert from Russia or Amani from Africa and the many other children running around the narthax of the Church. I know where these kids were and I see them now, glowing from the love of their families. I'm glad God took me in, and gives me the warmth of his love. To be called to adopt a child is no easy path, but surely a highly rewarding one.

I'd like to introduce you to the some of our friends: Mike and Raegan and Kevin and Julie. Both of these families from our church are adopting children from Africa. Raegan and Julie are such sweet girls and so funny. You'll enjoy learning about their new families. Julie's website might be privatized for security reasons, but if you'd like to read some wonderful insight through her journey, I would be happy to ask permission for you to read it. Another family we've known for years adopted a little girl while they were living in China, and they are now back stateside: The Kelleys . Reading about their process was my first time realizing how you can't just go over there, pick out a baby you like, and then bring 'em on home. It's a long, detailed process. Celebrities make it look easy. It's not.

Besides these friends, I have been reading a blog It's Almost Nap Time written by a woman in Texas who is also in the process of adopting children. She's fun and honest and understands her calling.

If you asked me last February, I would have said "I think we are maybe called to adopt a child." When Nathan and I were first engaged, he said he was open to adopting children of any race or ethnicity. So, that idea has always been in the back of my mind. After experiencng a horrible miscarriage in late January, I convinced myself that God was dramatically showing us our path was to adopt. I didn't think our family was complete, yet. And then, through some rather strange and humorous circumstances, I found out I was pregant just a month later with our sweet Baby Petite Princess. I was so confused and scared this time around. I wondered why God would keep my head spinning in such a way. So, now if you ask me, I'd say I don't think our family is called to adopt at this time, but maybe to use our resources and abilities to help those who are adopting. Now, of course, that may all change because God seems to like to play it close to the vest with us. He knows my husband flies by the seat of his pants quite frequently and adeptly, so long range planning might not be our forte.

I encourage you to support those you may know who are adopting in any way you can. After all, they are beautifully carrying out the gospel love that has been shown to them. In truth, I've been around these church family adoptions my whole life. My dad has been the attorney for at least 6 adoptions in the small church I grew up in. I am proud that the church we attend and the one I grew up in fills their pews with children who have been grafted in to physical families, spiritual families from all over the world!

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world. James 1:27

Conversations with Kids (The First of the Series)

While I was changing Arabella's diaper, Will wandered in and asked,"Mama, who do you love bester?" Now I had a split second to make my decision. I could go with the truth, I love each of my children the same. I could never pick between them. OR, I could go with what Nathan's parents did. See, they told each of the boys that they loved that particular one the best, "but don't tell the others!!" Nathan believed them for a long time. He had to feel wonderful know he was their favorite. That is until he decided he would destroy his superior older brothers by breaking the news to them that he was their parents' favorite child. They laughed at him and said "Nate, they tell all of us that!" But for all that time, he believed it. I am an only child and I'm pretty sure I was my parents' favorite and I have to say that is probably the best thing about being an only child. You know your parents adore you and think you are something pretty special. I also thought if the kid catches on, it's kind of a fun little joke.

Well for better or for worse, I chose the latter.

"Well, you know, I love you bester, but you can't tell! It's just a secret between us two." My little sunshine angel smiled his winning grin and said, 'Okay."

As I wrapped up the diaper change, I decided to ask him who he loved bester. Okay, I know it was a self-serving attempt to get him to declare me his favorite...because let's face it, my boys are mama's boys.
"Well, Will, tell me who you love bester." I smiled down on him beaming with motherly love.
"Oh I love Papa bester. And I like him. I love him and I like him. I just love Papa."

Curses, foiled again.

Love and Chastening and lots of Ridiculousness

It was bound to happen at some point. There is none righteous - no, not one. Carter got a reteach at school. Yes, I know the name "reteach" is ridiculous. I am not a politically correct type and I think many times, you can call it whatever you like, everyone knows what it really is. So, Carter was given a reteach and had to sit out of part of recess. That really wouldn't have been so horrible by itself, but he tried to hide it from me. Well, of course he did. He'd never had one before, he was worried we'd be angry with him, he'd get more punishment, and probably worst, we'd be disappointed because he'd never had one before. So, we had a "discussion" instructing him to not hide these things any more.

Honestly, I didn't think it would be a problem again. I thought for sure he probably wouldn't get another reteach, at least this year. Except he has not particularly enjoyed the first grade even though he has made some great friends. He is no longer the sweet boy all the girls befriend but instead hangs in the middle of all the rough-and-tumble boys. And recently he has complained about how much he dislikes school. It's easy to see he's tired and ready for some respite. We all are. And really, First Grade is ridiculous. Seriously. The kid can have up to THREE TESTS on Fridays. Reading skills tests, math tests, and spelling tests seem like the SAT at this point. He really dreads Fridays.

On top of all this homework ridiculousness is the room environment. On a normal day, the temperature in that room is 212 degrees. That's right friends, it's boiling in there. The whole school is going through renovation and that seems to affect their ability to cool down that one room in particular. I visited there when I was pregnant with Arabella for the Halloween party - I nearly passed out. That is no exaggeration. I had to leave the room. When I returned, I boldly opened the door and said if the other classrooms had a problem with it, they could speak to me because the temperature was, well, ridiculous. How are these poor kids supposed to function when sweat is dripping off their noses on to their papers? And when we tried to open the windows, they wouldn't budge. So, not even a breeze.

So, I have a child with little reason to be excited about going to school. It really shouldn't be a surprise he was RETAUGHT two days later. But what did surprise me was that he tried to hide it again! I can tell you are just as shocked as I was. I just stared at him like "are you stupid?" I managed to not say it but I really did think it. That meant I had to tell his dad. And that went over like a lead balloon. Carter received a boom lowering. Well, it's not that bad of a sentence but he acts like he's on death row. He says things like "I wish I could play some Wii." Or, "can I have one of those brownies?" I finally asked "Whose fault is it that you can't play Wii or have a dessert for the next three days?" And this child had the audacity to sort of shrug and sigh "nobody's."

I felt this sharp pain shoot through my head as it began to split open. Searing lasers streamed from my eyes, and fire lapped out my nostrils. I managed to not kill him. I asked him "Really? You really think it's nobody's fault?" Some sort of recognition hit him; he realized that he had given the wrong answer but it was abundantly clear from the remaining confusion on his face that he did not understand how that answer was wrong. I decided to be a loving mother and say "it's your fault. You DO understand that, right." His eyes fell and he mumbled "Yes ma'am. I understand that."

The Bible tells us in Hebrews. "For whom the Lord loves he chastens, and whips every son whom he receives." Ouch. It sounds like either tough love or a contradiction. But really, it's not. If I didn't love my son, I'd just let him take the path he is on and we'd see where that takes him. Likely, it would be to his own destruction. I've known kids who weren't loved like that, their parents thought discipline was damaging and now, well, let's just say those kids aren't exactly contributing to society in a positive way. So, even though I hate punishing him and I want to believe it's all just a big misunderstanding, the proof is before me. He's wicked. He needs to learn there are consequences. He needs to know I love him enough to make him feel a little uncomfortable now to avoid a life full of ruin.

The most humbling part of all of this is the fact that it illuminates all the same wickedness in me. Luckily, my mother is around with her switch to "love" me.

*Carter was caught two more times over the weekend exhibiting unacceptable behavior and punished accordingly. This parenting thing is not for the weak.*

A Different World

It's been a very long time since I've posted. Every time I brought up the last post, I suddenly lost the words. The last blog was about finding out our baby's gender, and all the chaos that preceded it. It was about the last day my mother was ever in my house. The last full day she was alive outside a hospital. I look back at it and must admit, I was frustrated, worried, harried, and scared. I have looked back on that day with regret - I should have been more attentive to my mother and no so concerned with getting to the doctor's office on time. I should have not been consumed with the ultrasound and the baby's umbilical cord that day. I have not liked to think about that day or look at that post.

There have been many wonderful things I could have written about: the wonderful things our boys have said and done, the birth of our daughter, tall tales I've heard, etc. But, the primary audience isn't around to read them any more. Mother used to read each entry and print it out and keep it in a notebook. She loved her grandsons more than anything - even more than Kentucky basketball - and that my friends, is a lot! She really wanted a granddaughter. Now, I wouldn't tell the boys this, but she was hoping either one of them had been a girl. So, that day, when we found out little #3 was a girl, I was so excited to tell her. I knew she would be thrilled. The only problem was that she was too ill to really process it that day. She went on home to Harlan, she was admitted to the hospital, and there for a couple of days, she was herself. One of the last things she was able to say to me was, "I can't wait to see that baby. Oh I hope she looks like you."

I often tell Arabella, "Oh your Mimi would have loved to see you smile." One time, Carter was next to me and he said, "Well, I guess, we will all die someday and then, uh...." I saw tears filling his eyes and I said with a smile "We'll go to heave and see Mimi again!" He smiled and agreed. Sporadically, Will would ask "Where is Mimi? Why doesn't she live with Papa any more? Are we going to go see her at the hospital?" I explained that she had gone to heaven to live with Jesus and we'd see here there some day. It took him a few times to understand he wouldn't see Mimi again until then. I didn't mind him asking; I was glad he remembered her.

Well, just yesterday, Will asked his daddy with a giggle, "Do you remember when Mimi made it rain in the living room?!" Nathan laughed along with him and they agreed that was "crazy!" I knew it was time for me to stop worrying about that day and regretting it. Move forward because Mother would have. I don't know how much of my life my mother knows about up there in heaven. I'm relatively sure they don't have access to the internet. But, I'm good at pretending and I'll just keep on going like my primary aundience is still logging in to find out what crazy things her grandchildren are up to today. And she'll love those pictures of Arabella and Patrick Patterson - he was her favorite.

I often find myself thinking of her as like Moses, she was shown the Promised Land and then taken to be with the Lord.