I have to declare up front…this post is probably one of the most difficult I will ever write…and it’s going to be a long one so I hope you have a few minutes to spare! I started writing it on Father’s Day, but had to put in my “drafts” folder and walk away.  I wanted to share with all of you what my father means to me…fitting for Father’s Day, but in order to do that, I need to explain much of my childhood…and that’s where it gets difficult to write while sobbing.

Corey and I were talking last night and somehow our light hearted chit-chat lead into a heavy conversation about why I’m always afraid that he is going to leave me.  It’s a fear I have.  Maybe an irrational fear because I know he loves me with all his heart, but it’s still a concern I will always carry.  When he asked me why I feel that way, I told him it was because I had 3 very influential men in my life leave me throughout my childhood…so it goes without saying that I am highly sensitive to those types of insecurities.  He came back with, “Those men left your mom, they didn’t leave you.”

And that was the point in the conversation that brought me back to that familiar place.  That place deep within me that I tuck away and try to ignore.  But for some reason, last night, I realized that so much of those feelings and experiences make me the person I am today.  There is no “tucking them away”.  They are always there…dictating much of my insecurities even to this day. “Those” men did not just leave my mother.  When you marry a woman with 3 children, you are marrying the whole package….it’s all of us or none of us.  So when they got married, we were along for the ride…and when they got divorced…we were also along for the ride.  There was no separating my mom’s marriages in my young mind from myself.   Why didn’t they want me as a daughter anymore?  What was so wrong with me?  What did I do to make them leave?  Well, you get the point.

Now, I must also state that I am not one of those people that believe if you had a rough childhood, that you have the right to blame all of your shortcomings on your past or your parents.  Quite honestly, while my childhood may have been less conventional than most, it was still wonderful.  I have more fond memories than I can express, and my mother did the best she could for us with what little she had.  She was always there for me…she loved me with all of her heart…and I could ask for nothing more.

That being said, there were times when I was younger that things were not always sunshine and roses.  We moved roughly every six months.  Sometimes to the next town and sometimes clear across the country.  The constant moving meant that my brothers and I had to switch schools every semester.  For me…it was from Kindergarten through my freshman year of high school.  Then at the start of my sophomore year, my dad said “enough is enough” and instead of moving us once again…he commuted to work every day…an hour and half each way…for years so we could finish high school at the same place.  To this day, I am not sure he will ever know how grateful I am to him for sacrificing so much just to spare us one more move.

And the question that always follows is:  Why did you move so much?  Honestly, I’m not quite sure, and if you were to ask my mom that question, I’m not sure she knew at the time either.  In my second-grade psychology opinion, I believe my mom was running from much of her past…..the unfortunate part was that it always caught up to her…roughly…every 6 months or so.

Anyway, without offending anyone or slurring anyone’s character, I will try to explain this as vaguely as possible while still trying to attain coherency.  My biological father walked away from us when I was about 2.5-3 years old.  He was young, as was my mom, but he had a temper and a bad drinking habit.  It got to a point where…for our safety, my mom had to leave him…and he let her.  I have never met him.  I know his name.  I have seen a picture of him once or twice, and I know he lives in a nearby town.  That is the extent of my connection with him.  From what I am told, he has since changed.  He has cleaned up his act…grown up….and has a family of his own.  I’m glad to hear it.  He apparently knows of us and what we are doing with our lives. As it turns out…the town I live in and the adjoining towns…are not quite big enough to stop him from finding out what he wants to know about us over the years.  And to be quite frank…I guess I kind of like knowing that he still thinks about us every once in awhile.

Moving on…there were two other “fathers”…and I use that term very loosely… that came and went.  They both really loved my mom…actually were borderline obsessive over her…but us kids…well, we were the part of the “package deal” that didn’t really sit well for them.  We were truly just in the way.  My mom’s second husband was pretty abusive to us…again in an effort to not offend or insult…I will spare details, but let’s just say he created some substantial, emotional scaring for me.  Let me clarify…he was not sexually abusive…just very emotional, verbal, and at times, physically abusive.   Ha…I used the word “just” as if that were not enough or that bad!

And my mom’s third husband just didn’t like me…plain and simple.  He adored my mom and my brothers were ok…but he really disliked me.  We were with him from the time I was in 3rd grade (so about 9 years old) until I was in 7th grade (13 years old).  Needless to say, as I got older, I developed the typical teen attitude towards my parents and he just couldn’t tolerate that.  We would have these terrible shouting matches and then not speak to each other for a month.  The tension was high…all the time….and based off what I was told…it was pretty much my fault for that divorce.

Ya know, I think back to that man, and he seemed so great at first, especially considering the derelict he was following!  When my mom and he were dating, he would always let me sit on his lap while they played cards at night.  Just having the attention of a man who did not verbally accost me on a regular basis or play sick, mind games with me, made me feel like a princess.  But then it seemed to happen over night…as soon as they got married, he told me I was “too big” to sit on his lap anymore.  I used to walk away from him and just ask myself how I was “small” enough just a few short weeks ago, but now…I was “too big”.  My heart was broken yet again by another man who didn’t really want me.

Needless to say, by the time my dad came into my life (that is who he is and will always be to me…whether biological or not… he deserves the title of “dad”), I was in no mood to have yet another man pretend to like me in front of my mom just until they got married, only to turn around and hate me as soon as the “deal was done”.  So I put him through hell.  And I mean hell.  I hated him without even knowing him, and I wanted nothing more than for him to fall off the face of the earth and go away!  I pushed him away though any means possible for a solid 6 months, but he did not budge.  He was in for the long haul, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Nothing I could do was going to make him run…and he was there to prove that to me no matter how long it took.

Well, he has been my father for over 19 years now….and honestly…at this point in my writing, I am having a difficult time continuing through the tears.  He has never let me down.  He has never walked away from us.  He has stuck by us through thick and thin.  He worked his fingers to the bone to provide a very comfortable life for us growing up.

Simply put…He is my hero.

He is my father….and he is more than the man he needed to be!

My heart is breaking right now.  My baby girl, who is now 1 year and 2 weeks old, needs to be weaned from my breast!  I took her to the Dr. and while she is growing and developing well, her weight is a bit down.  She refuses to drink whole milk and the Dr said that while my breast milk still holds a ton of nutritional value for her, it cannot keep up with her caloric needs.  If she would drink from a cup or bottle…if she would drink anything other than breast milk…I could continue nursing.  But since she is so stubborn (don’t know where she gets it from), I need to wean her in order to get her drinking other things from other vessels aside from my breast.

I had only planned to breast-feed her the first year anyway; but I really didn’t think it would be this hard to wean her.  She absolutely refuses to fall asleep on her own.  For every nap, and every night at bedtime, if I am present, she wants to be nursed to sleep.  And then on nights like last night, she wakes up every two hours and needs me to nurse her back to sleep again.  After last night, I realized that this madness has to end!  I cannot take it anymore and now I know that all this breastfeeding is actually not helping her any either.  The time has come, but wow is it hard!

I put her down for bed an hour ago, and she is still crying!  I have tried everything.  I go in every couple of minutes to lay her back down, rub her tummy, and let her know that I’m still here.  The second I walk out, she stands up and starts wailing again.  I thought perhaps if I spaced out my visits that would help.  I started going in every ten minutes or so, but to no avail.  She freaks out every time I walk out of the room.  Like I said, we are rounding the hour mark and she is still going strong, but I am wearing thin…very thin.

I am about ready to crack and go in there…..scoop her up…..

Ok….she broke me!  As I was writing I just couldn’t take it anymore so I went in and rescued her from the hell I was putting her through…or perhaps me picking her up was her rescuing me…either way, I just couldn’t let her cry any longer.  I picked her up and sat down in the rocking chair where I usually nurse her to sleep.  I held her close…told her that it was going to be ok…that somehow we would get through this breakup…and rocked her in my arms.  I did not nurse her nor did she even try to get to my breast at that point.  She simply closed her eyes and buried her head in my arm.  I laid her back down in her crib after a few minutes and she started to fuss again.  I rubbed her tummy for a second or two, just long enough to stop the tears before they really started again…and I left her nearly asleep in her crib still doing that tiny little baby gasp that baby’s do after a good, long, hard cry.

I have to be honest…I feel like the cruelest mom in the world right now.  Why does the “tough love” have to start so early in their young lives?  I know by going in there and picking her up after an hour of crying, I just taught her to cry for an hour and ten minutes next time to get what she wants.  But seriously…is it that big of a deal? So what if she needs me to rock her to sleep.  So what if when she is the most vulnerable she wants her mother.  Heck, I’m 33 years old and I still want my mom to rock me to sleep at times and tell me everything will be ok!

I guess I will just try to do better tomorrow.  I will hold out on the breastfeeding since it has now become a health issue, for as long and as much as humanly possible.  But I think for now I will have to trade one bad habit for another.  If my little angel needs to give up nursing, I’m not going to make her give me up too.  One battle at a time.  Let’s just try and get her to sleep without the boob first and then work on getting her down without me holding her tight…perhaps a gradual approach is what we both need at this point.

And hey, by the time she’s off to kindergarten I bet we will both be well adjusted!

UPDATE:

I wrote the above post a few days ago and we have made some progress…daddy gets up with her when she wakes in the middle of the night.  Just not having me there as temptation has helped.  I also put her down kicking and screaming tonight, but this time I held out.  She cried for roughly 40 min….20 min shy of last time….and I only cried for about 30 min ;0)  So all in all…we are making some head way!

My oldest child, Kylie, is turning 13 in just a few, short weeks.  I am blown away at how quickly the time has gone by.  I cannot believe she is almost officially a teenager, and more shockingly, is that I have been a mother for nearly 13 years already!  I’m still trying to wrap my brain around being a mom, much less being a mom of a teenager!  Every year when her birthday rolls around, I am amazed at how fast she is growing up.  How do I stop this from happening?  How do I slow down this metamorphosis from my baby girl with pink toes and chubby cheeks…to a glowing, beautiful, intelligent, young woman?

I mean, I don’t know what I’m doing here.  I have no idea how to actually parent a teenager.  I have read all the books and magazines on how to handle their first ear infection and how to stop a toddler from biting their friends.  I can manage their firsts…their first steps…their first day of school…their first sleepover….

But a teen’s “firsts” are way too scary and uncharted territory for me.  We are now entering a completely new world of sexuality and rites of passage that parallel their lives a little too close to an adult’s life.  Something I am not nearly as comfortable with as I am with the little ones.  We are staring down the barrel of her first period…her first kiss…her first date…her first day of high school…her first prom!  We have all the monumental birthdays lying ahead like officially becoming a teenager…her sweet 16…and the ever so cherished 18th birthday when she is “officially” an adult!  I know her first boyfriend and her first heartbreak are lying ahead.  I know there will be numerous questions about sex and temptations I can’t even think about right now.  She will hate me as she never has before, but we will also build a friendship like never before.

No magazine or book has prepared me for this phase in our lives together.  Because I had her at such a young age (I was pregnant for my 20th birthday), I am unable to turn to most of my friends for advice.  Many of them are asking me how to deal with teething issues and potty training, so calling them up to ask how I should handle cat fights with friends and how I can protect her virtue is not an option.

So where do I turn to find my way this time….

I guess I am going to figure it out as I have in the past.  Blindly feel my way with her by my side….hand in hand we will figure it out together.  I think that’s the beauty of a first child.  All of their firsts are your firsts too.  I know she will help me navigate the way through this parenting maze.  I will screw up royally as I have in the past, and when I ask for forgiveness, she will pardon me as she always does.

And I will PRAY…pray like I’ve never prayed before!   Because no matter how clueless I am going into this new phase in our lives, I know that God has the answers and always seems to be there to take up the slack where I am lacking.

I will thank Him for such a gift….for such a wonderful; terrifying blessing it is to be a mom!

In honor of my baby girl’s 1st birthday, which we celebrated on Friday, I decided to post a journal entry I wrote last year at this time.  I was not going into labor on my own so my induction was scheduled for June 26th.   For some reason, I’ve never went into labor on my own..all 5 births were induced.  I was so excited to have the wait finally over, but I was also scared to death.  I don’t care if it was to be my fifth time giving birth…child birth is child birth and squeezing a 7 lb 10 oz watermelon out of a hole the size of a small softball will never NOT be terrifying for me.  This journal entry was recapping how we spent the last day as a family of 6 before welcoming our beautiful Natalie into the world!

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June 25, 2008 10:41pm

It’s so odd, almost unexplainable, but I have the most calming sense of peace deep in my soul right now!  I am going to be induced tomorrow morning at 7:30am with child #5!  Before my other 4 inductions, I was always a basket case.  I expected to feel the same tonight, but I don’t.  I have had a few bouts of weepiness, but overall, I just feel at peace.  I feel as though the Lord gave me an extra day with my 4 beautiful angels before we all welcome our newest blessing into the world.  I was supposed to be induced today, but something came up with the Dr, so my induction was moved to tomorrow.   That allowed me one more glorious day with the kids before our lives change forever.  Even though it’s a blessed change, it’s still a change.  Every one of our lives will be different.  Avery will no longer by the baby in our family.  Kylie will no longer be the only daughter.  My husband will be a father for the first time.  All the dynamics of our family of 6 will change, and I’m excited and melancholy over the entire event.

That’s what made today so precious.  My mom and I took the kids to an amusement park and out to McDonald’s for dinner.  Corey played football with the kids until dusk, and then we roasted marshmallows and snuggled up by the campfire.  It was a perfect end to a perfect day!  The kids were cleaned up and I was able to tuck them all into bed.  I said a silent prayer for each one of them.  They each have such different needs and God has blessed us so much in meeting all those needs.

Seeing the anticipation in Avery’s eyes….hearing the excitement in Brady’s voice…..trying to calm the worry in Bailey’s heart….and then getting to hold my very first baby girl tonight while she cried on my shoulder about her fears was one of the most moving and greatest gifts the Lord has ever given me.

Perhaps that’s where the calming peace in my heart is coming from.

Perhaps…it’s just knowing that I was given one more, perfect day with my babies before we start a new, wonderful chapter in our lives tomorrow.

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Well she was born the picture of health on June 26th @ 3:19pm.  After an extremely scary incident with the epidural (a story I will share at a later time), she arrived roughly 7.5 hours and 3 pushes later.  She came out purple and not crying when they placed her on my stomach.  I was so overwhelmed and excited to hold her, but I kept asking the Dr. if she was ok.  Her color didn’t look right and she really wasn’t making any noise.  After about a minute of me freaking out that she wasn’t crying and that she looked purple (go figure), the Dr. finally conceded and they whisked her off my belly and into the incubator for some oxygen.  After just a few puffs, she was pink and wailing…just what every mother wants to see and hear!   Corey was able to stand right by her side when her tiny hand reached out and grasped his finger.  Then the nurse bundled her up and handed her off to her daddy where he was able to hold his daughter for the very first time.  Natalie Johanna was just minutes old when her very proud and overwhelmed daddy held her in his big, strong arms for the first time.  Her birth was a moment I will cherish forever.

The entire experience of a 9-month culmination of wonder, fear, anticipation, and love never ceases to amaze me.  No matter how many times I give birth, I will never get over what an experience it is.

Words fail me when I try to articulate what giving birth to a miracle means to me….I mean, how do you define that kind of love?!

But I believe the word God uses in the Bible is AGAPE, so with that in mind….Happy 1st Birthday my angel….and while the word “love” fails miserably to describe how I feel for you….I believe AGAPE will do just fine ;o)

It’s 1am and I can barely see strait, but I am so excited that my children are finally home from their vacation, that I just had to write a quick post before our very busy weekend.

They flew in this evening and the airport is two hours south of where we live.  I was so excited and anxious to see them that I drove to the airport.  The thought of waiting an extra two hours to see them was just too much after going 8 very long days without them…so I met them at the terminal gate!

I scooped each one of them up in my arms, squeezed them until they couldn’t breathe, kissed their foreheads, and thanked the good Lord for their safe arrival back home.  Just reliving that moment in my mind as I write this is moving me to tears.

I know many people may think I’m “over the top” to be polite and completely “insane and overbearing” to put it not so politically correct, but I don’t care what people think….not when it comes to my children and what kind of a mother I should or shouldn’t be.  Everyone has an opinion and most don’t hesitate to share it…mainly the negative “nay sayers”.

I live and breathe for my children.  There is nothing…and I truly mean nothing that will ever come before them.  I believe with all my heart and soul that God put me on this earth to be the best mother I can be, and I do my best to make Him proud.  He has blessed me immeasurably with the greatest gift He can give us…children, and I will never take that responsibility or gift lightly.  They are my whole world so if that means I drive 4 hours round trip to see them two hours earlier, then so be it!

They are finally home.  They are all tucked into their beds….fast asleep and safe & sound.   Ahhhhh….there is no better way to give a mother peace within her soul than having her babies tucked in for the night!

And tonight…as I make the rounds to check on them before I head off to bed myself, I will pause for a few seconds longer.  I will linger by their bedside as I pull the covers up over their tiny little toes and marvel at what amazing creatures they are.  And I will thank God again for their health, safety, and for the mere pleasure of knowing them.

My four children have been away now for 6 days on vacation with their father and my ears are starting to hurt.  I cannot express enough how much I miss all the noise.  It has been so quiet that the silence is deafening.  It’s been so unbearable for me at home that Miss Natalie and I have been doing all we can to avoid the place all together.  I have been out and about more in the last 6 days than I have been in the last 6 months.  I find any reason that might remotely seem logical to leave the house and get away from the stillness.  I even took that poor baby girl minivan shopping!  I mean, who takes a nearly 1-year-old minivan shopping for hours on end?  Well, a mother desperately avoiding her empty nest, that’s who!

And speaking of my baby girl….thank God that I have her at home, and I’m so grateful for her company.  She may only be a few days shy of 1 year old, but she is one of the best companions I could ever have.  Just her smile lights up my world and gives me the motivation to keep moving and not sulk like I feel the need to do since the kids left.  She is growing so fast and learning so much that her zest for all things “new” in her world makes waking up each morning an exciting adventure.  I am truly grateful for this one on one time with her and I see now that it’s been a blessing in disguise….a silver lining to missing my other children so much.

And how are the other kids doing?  Very well…they call each evening and tell me all about their day.   Swimming at the pool, rock climbing, going to the beach, and a couple days at Universal Studios are just a few of the fun events that have filled their time in Florida.  Hearing the excitement in their voices each night gives me comfort.  I find solace in knowing that even though I am missing them terribly here at home, they are having the time of their life with their “other” family.

And as sick and twisted as it may seem, I also find comfort in hearing that twinge in their voice when they say good night…an inflection in their voice ever so subtle that lets me know they are missing me too ;o)

It is officially summer vacation in our home and I cannot even begin to articulate how elated I am about that declaration!  My children have emptied their desks and brought home every single nub of eraser and inch long pencil they have accumulated at school over the past year.  All the artwork that has adorned the walls at school are now scattered across my kitchen just awaiting their placement on either the fridge, cupboards, or the ever-esteemed patio doors.

I went grocery shopping yesterday so I am well prepared (for at least the first 3 days) for all the elaborate breakfasts we will make together that we don’t have time for during the school year.  The refrigerator is stocked up with all the essentials for our backyard cookouts.  The cupboards are brimming with all the treats and goodies needed for the million snack breaks my children will have to take “or we are just going to die of starvation if we have to wait for dinner, mom!”  And the freezer is full of those wonderful and most essential parts of summer…the freezy pops!  I just cannot wait to start picking up those empty plastic sleeves all over the yard and the snipped off ends lying randomly all over the kitchen counters!  

Summer is truly my favorite season and it has little to do with the weather.  I can’t even tell you how nice it is to be “off” for the summer!   As a stay-at-home mom, it’s like reliving your summer vacations as a child growing up.  And I’m not insinuating that having the kids home all day, every day is easy.  I’m sure I will need to go back and read this post roughly two weeks into summer to remind myself about how much I have been eagerly awaiting this time.  When I have heard my millionth “I’m board!” and my whistle is broken already from playing referee, I know I will need to practice my deep breathing and remember how I long for this time with my children.  Aside from the normal chaos with having 5 children under the same roof 24 hours a day, 7 days a week for approximately 3 months, our lives are truly much more enjoyable and relaxing during summer break.

The biggest plans we make are going to softball and soccer games, having campfires, and taking long walks through the nature center.  Going swimming at the local pool, hitting up every zoo in the area, and exploring the wide range of state parks are our biggest missions during these special and limited summer months.  Staying up late at night to roast marshmallows and count the stars, lying in the grass trying to identify cloud formations, and slathering on the sunscreen before heading to a new beach we’ve never explored before are moments that simply cannot be matched by any other time of year.  

There are no tests to study for…no homework to eat up our evenings together.  I don’t have to share my children with their teachers.  I don’t have to spread myself so thin trying to volunteer for everything the school needs help with.  No running ragged to practices and extracurricular events.  It’s just us….and we have all the time in the world to do whatever we want to do.

Not only do I get the much-needed time with my children without the hustle and bustle of the outside world, but they get the time with each other.  They get reacquainted with their siblings and have the time to reinforce the bond that can only be formed between brothers and sisters working together to build the best sand castle on the beach or making tent forts in the living room, on a rainy day, with couch cushions and blankets.  

We create the best memories during this time of year, and I’m so blessed to be home with my babies for these few precious but fleeting months of summer!

My oldest son, Bailey, attended his first girl-boy party this afternoon.  He is 11 years old and proudly, just graduated from the 5th grade today!  A female classmate of his decided to throw an end of the year party and invite both the girls and guys.  My first reaction when he asked if he could go was, “NO!”….Plain and simple.  

Now, I did not say that aloud.  I told him I would have to think about it and get the details from the girl’s mom, but I was just saying that as a courtesy to him.  I had already made up my mind that he wasn’t going.  I was not about to turn over my baby boy to these vulture girls who just look at him like a piece of meat!  

Ok, maybe it’s not quite that bad, but seriously…I was feeling that he is too young to encourage the small exchanges that start to happen at his age between the sexes.  I know it’s a part of the reality of him getting older, but I certainly wasn’t going to be antagonizing the inevitable by allowing him to attend this mixed gala.  I felt like it was a threshold we had not crossed yet, and I really wasn’t equipped to go there with him already.  I mean, I am still grappling with my daughter’s maturing body and hormones flying everywhere, I certainly do not feel emotionally prepared to start dealing with my son’s pre-pubescent issues too!

Well, after giving it more than a moment’s thought, I realized that perhaps my initial reaction was a bit over the top and dramatic.  Honestly, I’m certain I have more to worry about when it comes to the boy-girl party scene when my son is a couple years older than I do right now.  I decided that if I let him go, we are opening Pandora’s Box….and I am going to need to choose my battles very carefully in the preceding years, so perhaps this was not a battle worth fighting for at this time.  

After conferring with a few friends who also have sons that were invited, we were all hesitant, but decided to let our boys go.  No…I don’t always turn to my friends to make decisions about what my son can and cannot do, but I do feel there is power in numbers….and if he was going to be there with his buddies, perhaps the enticement of football would overpower the allure of the girls in bathing suites.  Wishful thinking…I know…but it’s what lets me sleep at night so allow me to go with it.  

The party seemed to go well.  Bailey came home and said he had tons of fun…so no harm, no foul.   I guess what really surprised me the most was how much I feel the same about my daughter’s interaction with the opposite sex as I do with my son’s sudden interaction.  I really thought that I would feel differently about my boys entering this phase in their lives then I do about my daughter.  Much to my surprise, I don’t feel differently at all!  

I want to protect his virtue as much as I want to protect my daughters.  I want to keep him innocent as long as humanly possible; just as I want to with my daughter.  I want to shelter him from the inevitable heartaches and heartbreak that are bound to come his way once mingling with the opposite sex.  I want to spare him the ensuing drama that comes along with allowing girls to enter his “boy’s club”.

 And more than anything, I want to raise an honorable man just as I want to raise an honorable woman….so the bar is raised….and I just pray I am up to the challenge of juggling both the sexes in my care!

One of the hardest parts of the “stay-at-home” mom job is that there are no sick days.  If I wake up with a killer migraine headache, as I did this morning, I cannot just call up my 5 children, tell them that mommy is feeling sick today so she won’t be in, and crawl back into bed like I wanted to do.

Instead, I had to drag myself out of bed, put on sun glasses to try and shade the light from my eyes (for any of you who have ever suffered from a migraine, you will understand the light sensitivity component to the headache), and carry about my morning as if nothing were wrong.  Natalie needed to be changed, fed, and thoroughly entertained.  We are attempting to sell our house, so along with the phone call from the realtor asking to show the house, came the instant panic over getting the house “show worthy”.  Needless to say, I had more than my share of cleaning to do this morning.  I also had to bake two dozen cookies for a function being held at my children’s school this evening.

 And again, all I really wanted to do was stay in my PJ’s and bury my head under the blankets until the immense stabbing pain in my brain and acute nausea subsided….no such luck!

So, I did what all super-mom’s do…I took care of business!  No calling in….no breaks…no sick day.  I took care of the baby.  I cleaned the house. I did roughly 18 loads of laundry.  I organized the kids’ closets, rotated their summer clothes up front, and pushed the winter gear to the back.   And I bought some of the freshest cookies I could score at the local bakery…took them out of the box and placed them in a container I brought with me from home…and brought them to school without an ounce a guilt over not slaving away personally on the baked goods.  

 I know that we all have days like I did today, and I realized that mother’s pull off days like this all the time without anyone thinking twice about it.  Well today ladies, I am thinking twice.

 I am commending each and everyone one of you who have spent the entire night up with a sick child only to turn around, splash some water on your face, and carry on for another day.

 I want to recognize all of the moms out there that work 40 plus hours a week and still find a way to keep up with the cooking, cleaning, laundry, and juggling act that we all struggle with.

 Today I want to acknowledge all the women that suffer through migraine headaches, or severe back pain, or asthma, or arthritis…and much, much worse….with smiles on their faces and love in their hearts.

 We are strong.  We are amazing creatures.  God truly graced us with gifts and talents like no man I know.  So even if nobody else notices how hard you work or what you sacrifice for your family, find comfort in knowing that you are not alone.  There is truly a sisterhood of mothers amongst you.  

And find strength in knowing that even when no one else notices…God is always there with open arms to give you the “atta girl” that you so warmly deserve!

I keep our calendars from year to year.  I have an entire bin of old calendars from the last 13 years.  I even have a couple that I kept from high school.  Back then, I would keep track of basketball games, dances, when a certain boy asked me out, or when we broke up.   The calendars now are filled with appointments, games, family get togethers, birthdays, and anniversaries.  

I do it for more of a practical application down the road than for the mere obvious sentimental reasons.  I think that it will be great to look back at them someday and have something to trigger my memories of all that we did together as a family…because quite honestly, I am afraid of forgetting most of it.  

It seems that I cannot remember from day to day where we have been, what we have done, or even what my name is anymore!  And I know these memories are too precious to forget.  So I chronicle our lives on the little squares of our calendar.  I write down what we did for someone’s birthday or when we packed a picnic and headed to the zoo.  I will write down all the milestones my daughter reached in her first year of life so when she looks back at her baby book and sees that I never made it past page 2….that I did indeed keep a record of her special moments, just not in her baby book.  I will write down how we spent this Memorial Day weekend…we planted a garden, had a cookout with friends, roasted marshmallows by the campfire, etc.  That way, when my husband says to me next year at this time, “Do you remember what we did last year for Memorial Day” (as he always finds it necessary to quiz me on previous holiday festivities, and I inevitably fail miserably)…I will be able to say, “No, I have no idea what I ate for lunch yesterday Corey, so asking me what we did a year ago is pretty pointless, don’t you think?  Why don’t you just tell me what we did because you and I both know that you know and I don’t remember?”

 However, I will be able to drum up the old calendars…and subsequent memories…. someday….someday when I am frail, old, and “officially” senile….and reminisce over days and years past.  

It seems as though I spend every day running ragged with my life and someday I will look back on this time and wonder how I managed it all…and how to get it back because I know I will miss it terribly!

I know my calendars will come in handy on those days!