An Open Letter to My Son: You Are Not A Dinosaur

*Nothing in this blog is written with the intention of offending anyone. It is simply my observation of a recent social situation I found my son in, and that I found myself in. This is a real-life event that was revolutionary to me, and this is my perspective of it/response to it.

Dear Son: 

I’m not sure you’ll ever read this…but you might. Maybe someday, you’ll realize that your mama talked about you online, and you’ll decide to root through the archives to find out what I said…and I hope you do. Because in spite of the mistakes that I have/I will made/make, I think the biggest thing you will glean from these archives is that I love you with my entire heart and soul, and that my hope for you is nothing less than a personal relationship with Jesus…and that I am endlessly grateful to Him for you, your sister, and your Daddy…But, I digress:

Son, I want you to know that in spite of your best efforts, You Are Not A Dinosaur.

I know, I know—To be a T-Rex, in all of his roaring, short-armed glory, would be a wonderful, exciting thing. You get to be the biggest thing on the playground! You get to be the center of attention! You get to command the room, to be the most frightening, coolest, awesomest thing around!!!

Buuuuuut, you’re not a T-Rex.

You’re a you.

And while you’re pretty much the center of my world, to everyone else you’re another person in the room…and in some situations, your roaring and stomping about is kinda scary/annoying/weird (although I think it’s adorable).

Over the weekend, I had the chance to watch you in a different social circle. You were the only boy in your age group; the only boys in the room were older, and they were related. You haven’t learned about “cousins” yet, because we don’t live near our families. We don’t come from what’s called a tight-knit family, and although we’ve been fine with that up until now, I’m beginning to wonder if that should somehow change (I have no idea how, being as you are considerably younger than most of your cousins on either side, and/or we live too far away). I watched you play with the little girls that were close to your age, until they decided to run off like little girls do, and play amongst themselves. Then I watched you try to break into the group of boys/cousins that were older than you…You went up to them; they carried along with what they were doing. You tried to be a dinosaur and to chase them (it worked on the little girls), but they paid you no mind. You went over to them and roared louder; they still paid you no mind, and one of them actually kicked you.

You weren’t hurt (physically), and he was duly reprimanded; you continued playing like nothing had happened, and I kept my distance, following you around the room in case you decided to jump off of something/attempt to injure yourself.

I realized something in that moment.

I realized that you were echoing what was in my heart…I had wanted to talk to a group of women that were my age, but they formed a tight circle, and I continued to be on my own. If I could have roared like a dinosaur (something that, in my head, translates to, “Hi! Will you be my friend? I don’t know anyone around here very well, and I’m a tad lonely, being as my husband seems to know/like/be liked by everybody, and I feel like a total freak show, so could you just talk to me so this cafeteria doesn’t give me a high-school flashback?!?”), I might have…It is EXHAUSTING, to be in a group of people that you’ve known for several years but don’t really know, and to smile and act like that’s all okay, when what you really want to do is just leave and never come back, because it all feels like a complete waste of TIME.

In my heart, I was roaring.

In my heart, I felt totally rejected…and when I saw you trying to get the attention of the boys by roaring like a dinosaur, it broke my heart. You’d roar, and your bright eyes would dart back and forth between their faces, looking to see if they’d heard you….looking to see if they would accept you into their circle, and to see if they would play with you.

Sure, you were fine (it seemed), but I was not. Feeling rejected for myself is one thing, but seeing it happen to you? I’m not cool with that.

I realize that you’re 3. You’re not drawing the same things from perceived social rejection like I am at 38. You’re not looking at things through a lifetime of being a perceived extrovert (when you’re actually totally NOT). You’re 3. You have a lifetime of rejection ahead of you, because you’re a human being, and that’s what we do to each other, regardless of whether or not we’ve slapped a “Christian” label on our shirts. You will spend your lifetime making friends, losing friends, being made fun of, making fun of people, and learning the ropes of relationships. I can’t learn these things for you, especially since I haven’t learned them well enough yet myself.

I wanted to pick you up and carry you out of that cafeteria. I wanted to hold you, to tell you that it’s okay—you don’t need to be friends with those boys, anyways; you’ve got ME. And later on in the day, I called my own Mama, and told her about my own perceived rejection, because even when I don’t have or can’t make friends, I have MY MAMA.

Oh, son…You are so bright and shiny, and the world is so new to you. I know that learning the ropes of social situations will be a process for you, and I’m certain it will be an intense process for me to observe. I have to wonder if I will ever stop wanting to collect you and hold you, and carry you out of the room when your attempts to make friends go south.  I think of all of the times my mom had to rescue me from the cliques and the bullies and the peer pressure I faced even in my Christian school, and I wonder how different/same it will be for you as a boy…I think of the times my mother didn’t intervene, and let me learn my lesson (or when I didn’t tell her what I was dealing with, because I figured she had enough to handle).  I think of the unsolicited advice my mother probably got (granted, with all of the sancti-mommies online, I think unsolicited advice is a greater issue today than it was in the 80’s), and/or the comments other parents made at her methods of parenting (“You’re not letting her drive when she’s 16?!?  What’s wrong with YOU?!?”).

(Sidebar: Unsolicited parenting advice is yet another form of mom-shaming. You don’t like that my son sits in his stroller while we eat dinner in an establishment that doesn’t have a high chair, instead of running around like a hellion? KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. I can see that you don’t agree with my methods; I really don’t care. Thank you, but no thanks.)

I’m going to do my best for you. I’m going to try to watch you learn your lessons; I’m going to try to take the necessary steps back, to let you jump when you need to…but I will be close enough to catch you if I have to.  People may tell you I’m hovering. They might even be so stupid as to tell you that I’m so close because I’m afraid to lose you, because your sister passed away (if anyone EVER says that to you, let me know, because I will handle them. Harshly.). 

Son, I love you more than words. I will be here when no one is impressed with your dinosaur impression, and you can roar all you like. I might even roar with you.

I will not tell you that you are the smartest, the cutest, the best in the world. I will tell you that you are the smartest, the cutest, and the best in MY world. The World will show you that you are simply YOU…that you are not a dinosaur, no matter how much you want to be. You are just another little boy, growing up and figuring life out with millions of other little girls and little boys, who have mommies and daddies who have different rules, different goals, and different priorities.  I can’t make that any easier for you.

What I can do is to point you toward the Lord…I can love your Daddy, and in this unstable world we can provide a stable home for you to grow up in. We can love you, kiss your boo-boos, hug your little chest, and let you cry when you need to. We will laugh and play with you, and you will continue to be the center of our world; hopefully, you can carry that love and stand on the foundation we will lay in your life. That foundation can carry you through the rejection of friends, girls, whatever…you will always know you can come home and be the biggest dinosaur in the room. And you’ll always know that if you need us to pick you up and carry you out of a situation, we will…We will discipline you as needed, we will make mistakes, we will forgive and ask for forgiveness, and we will all grow in this process…

Our family is just….well, we’re a bit different, and you’ll figure that out. In our social circles, lots of mommies don’t go to work; lots of kids go to school at home; and lots of families have lots of kids. We don’t do/have any of those things, for multiple reasons that I constantly second-guess. There are things you won’t get to be a part of, but there are really cool things that you WILL get to be a part of, and we will do our best to keep you as involved as possible. Your family is really unique, and you’ll learn to appreciate what makes us special, and what makes us perfect for you. You’ll also learn that your family is fierce, incredibly loyal, independent, co-dependent, colorful, hilarious, messed-up, and awesome on every side…just like a lot of families. We’re all going to be here for you, and we can all roar, together.

Life is all about learning. We never stop, whether we’re 3 or 93. Just like this weekend, there will be so many times that I will look at you and learn about myself (good and bad), just as much as I try to teach you by my own example (also good and bad).  We all have times where we feel overlooked and uninvited, and we all have a dinosaur in our hearts that just wants to be acknowledged and loved…We all want to belong.

My little guy…my brave boy…how I love you, and how I wish I could learn it all for you, to keep you safe and unharmed. I wish I could take all of your hurts for you (and therein lies an entire volume dedicated to the grace of Christ), and make life as easy as possible. I wish I could make all of your friends for you, and filter out those I don’t want you to know…in my Type-A mindset, I wish I could make all of your plans and run your life to be as bump-free and methodical as possible. We all know that’s completely impossible and unhealthy. You have to grow, learn, discern, process, evolve, and eventually, break out on your own, away from our carefully-cultivated nest and out from under my ever-vigilant watch.

I’m absolutely terrified/exhilarated/petrified of that day…

But it’s coming…

And every day is one day closer.

You are going to be so amazing…I can’t wait to see what God has planned for your life. These things, these worries I have, and this journey you’re on, are so far beyond you right now…you have so much to learn and to grow into.  Take your time. Go slow.  Be free to be loud/annoying/weird to the world.

When you’re grown, you’ll learn that you are not a dinosaur…

But for now…

Roar as loud as you want.

Find Me in the Waiting...

Find me in the waiting….              

So, here I am…waiting.

Lots of people are waiting for something right now. I have a friend who’s waiting for travel visas to China, so she can pick up the special-needs child her family is adopting. The process is agonizingly-slow, and she’s READY TO GO…The nervous anticipation she’s posting on Facebook is palpable. I find myself curling my toes and bouncing my knees when I read her posts, because I’m So. Darn. Impatient, on her behalf.

God moves on His own timetable.

Darn it.

So we wait….

My sister is waiting for something right now…a chapter to close. She knows it’s coming, but she doesn’t know when, and every week or so, I’ll text her and ask, “Do you have a date, yet?” We’re trying to plan out the holidays, but it’s nearly impossible, without definite information.

Time is dragging.

And so, we wait…..

I am waiting.

I am waiting to find out what the swelling in my neck means. I am waiting to find out why an ultrasound was needed…and then a CT scan, after the results from the ultrasound looked less-than-ideal.  Having your doctor call you and say, “We need you at the imaging center right away; how soon can you get there?” is scary…You gather your things, leave your office, make arrangements for your son, and you drive (mostly within the limits)…You get there, and the staff remembers you, and gives you “the look.”

You say, “Don’t feel sorry for me! Let’s get this over with!” and you call your pastor, because even if neither of you know what’s going on, there’s something beautiful in hearing him say, “Let’s pray.” It’s good to know people that mean it, when they say they’re praying.

I didn’t make the imaging center wait; I hauled myself there in record time…But they are making ME wait, and I know it’s not their fault…

But let’s get it over with.

Rip the damn band-aid off, and tell me what’s happening in this mutinous body of mine.

I am waiting.

I am praying.

And I know He’s there now, and He’s already there at the end, and He already knows the results, and He isn’t scared, at all…

This weekend, David & I had an extended date that was already planned. We had a friend who watched JD; David had done their family photos a few weeks ago, so they kindly agreed to take care of The Loinfruit. They love him so much, and I know he was happy to see them. We went to The Original SpringsHotel and Mineral Spa in Okawville, IL (highly recommended), and did a simple spa admission. The mineral baths are heavenly; there’s a dry sauna and a pool, and if you want to pay extra for a massage, they have wonderful massage therapists. We skipped that part, because I’m not a good candidate for massage right now.  The restaurant is AMAZING, and has the best fried chicken you’ve ever had (True Story!), so we stayed for lunch, and headed home…We laughed (a lot), and really didn’t talk too much about the Elephant in the Room.

We just hung out, two people that love each other fiercely, and who have been through so much worse…two people that couldn’t navigate this crazy life without one another holding on. He’s my soulmate, and I’d like to think that I’m his, as well. He’s my very best, dearest, most attractive friend, and he knows me better than anyone…We had fun, and as we drove back, I thought about our life together, and what an adventure we are always on…never a dull moment!

That evening, David did what was to me, the most important photo shoot he’s done since our children were born. He was asked to do an impromptu, informal photo shoot with a family where the patriarch is terminal. So far, I’ve been unable to look at the pictures, because from the two shots I’ve seen, the love this man has for his family, and they, for him, is so rich and so beautiful; my heart can’t handle it. This man loves Jesus, he’s raised a godly family that has had children of their own, and he knows where he’s going. That doesn’t make it easier to leave, or to say goodbye…Well, maybe it does, but it still hurts.

He doesn’t have an exact date, just a timeline…

So they wait.

They cling to each other; they make these the sweetest days…

And they wait.

My friend is waiting for travel passes and adoption papers…my sister is waiting for closure.  I am waiting for answers, and my other friend’s father is waiting for the end of the last chapter of a story he’s been writing for decades….

The waiting will break you, if you’re not grounded.

The waiting will take you to your knees…which is perhaps, the best place for all of us to be as we go through these processes. We find strength in ourselves, when we can answer our own questions. When we have definite dates, we begin the stress of preparation.

But in the waiting, everything is open-ended. Everything is up in the air, and we are on shaky ground…we are on rafts, in the middle of the rapids.

He is our Anchor.

Find Him in the waiting; cling to Him, and have stability in the ever-changing waters of uncertainty…

He is our Peace…He is our steady ground…

All of us that I mentioned in this post are waiting, praying, hoping, and seeking…and all of us know that He has His ways, and His timing…we all know He is not ignoring us, or pushing us away. Our Father loves His children.

So, we wait for Him to rescue us….even when that doesn’t look like what we think it should look like.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OVd7Hh5WCyc

Tales from the Grocery Store...

There are few things that irritate me like grocery shopping irritates me. Maybe it’s the fact that I usually do it on my own, or the fact that it never fails: there’s someone with a cart that can’t figure out to stay toward the side of the aisle (“MOOOVE”—Ludicrous). Grocery trips with my mom were always an epic adventure of carefully-crafted chaos. One child would take a group of coupons to one part of the store; the other child would take another group. Dad would wreak havoc by throwing things whenever possible; Mom would go into full-military-assault mode, and we would, in short, take over the entire store.

I’m not kidding—you could hear us from one end of Schnucks to the other.  I’m really, REALLY good at “Mom?  Mom???? MOOOOOOOMMMMM?!?!?!” I think that's probably how I developed excellent vocal projection...I guess I should send Schnucks a letter of thanks...

Mom is EXCELLENT at “WHAAAAT?!?!?  I SWEAR, I CAN’T TAKE YOU KIDS ANYWHERE-WAIT! WHERE IS YOUR FATHER?!?!?!  JEFFREYJEFFREYJEFFREY!!!!  $%*($%*(*! 

If reality shows would have been a thing during my childhood, we would have made a fantastic one. It would be some caustic combination of Real World/HoneyBooBoo/Bridezilla+Momzilla/ThriftShopDivas/Italian-By-Proxy/BradyBunch AWESOMENESS. We would have rocked your airwaves. Grocery shopping, school programs, after-church dinners—My family is an entertaining bunch, to say the least. But, back on topic: The Grocery Store.

Rarely do I venture to the grocery store during the week. My workdays are long enough that by the time I’ve picked JD up from the sitters, I’m finished. But, last night, we were out of almond milk…and Lord help you if that poor baby doesn’t get his warm almond milk at bedtime (Yuppie baby!)! And, we were out of fruit, vegetables, etc., so off to Shop-And-Save I went.  It’s a necessary evil; I didn’t even go into it with a bad attitude. It was the usual, “Let’s DO this,” and get the heck home as quickly as possible. I grabbed JD, loaded everything into the cart—oh, wait, the cart safety straps are broken!—transitioned to a new cart—and off we went.

Some parents don’t like to run errands with their little ones. I understand, but that’s not how I roll. JD is my little shopping buddy. He likes to stroll through the mall (it’s air-conditioned, so we go there a lot to play). He loves all of the bright colors in the stores, and as he’s gotten older, he’s recognizing things. He’s just now starting to try to touch things, and I’m learning that I have to say “no” to certain things. I’m avoiding toy aisles…not for HIM, but for ME, because I am a SUCKER for buying toys.

Yesterday, I was SO tired…but we had to go to the grocery store, and honestly, I’m glad we did. He’s just so cute, and so funny; he eyeballs people, and he waves. So far, no one can resist saying “Hi” back to him (which is good for them). We went through the produce section, and he got really excited when I showed him the bananas. “NA-na!  NA-na!” was yelled as we went through several different aisles, regardless of what he was looking at (he started it back up again as we were checking out). We practiced our words (PoTAto!  Rnge!—that’s “orange” to you), and he waved like he was the Grand Marshall.

Periodically, I would lean in and kiss his head (it’s hard to resist that giant melon); he started reaching up and “honk”ing my nose. He’s learned his parts of the face, and since I have a prominent proboscis, it’s pretty easy for him to grab. I’d “honk” his wee nose in return, and his giggle would ring through the store.

I’m not afraid to look like an idiot for my son. We’d sing back and forth; there was some jumping on the cart, and general bee-bopping around. We made it fun, and I caught a few people laughing as we walked by.

I wasn’t feeling particularly well yesterday; I’m still not. But as I went to bed last night, I thought about our little trip to the grocery store, and about how much fun it was. Sure, having a toddler with you can make life more complicated.

It definitely makes it more memorable.

The Timehop app on my tablet reminds me every day of what I was doing 1, 2, 3, 4 years ago; those memories from 3-4 years ago are precious, but they’re nothing like the memories our family has created since JD came into the picture. It’s not been an easy road, but it’s been the best road we’ve ever traveled.

Life with our little guy is the most amazing of adventures…even the mundane has become magnificent. Every day is a photo op that’s burned onto my brain. The things we do in the evening become memories that sustain me through my day; every work day is spent waiting anxiously to get home to cuddle that baby, to pinch his cheeks, and to smell that sweet, messy toddler hair. He’s dramatic, hilarious, curious, excited…Every day with him is so new, and so much fun. I see so much of myself, and so much of David; it’s such a crazy ride!

This blog isn’t particularly insightful…it’s just my amazement in how things have changed. Parenthood makes life…Well, I guess it just Makes Life.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Moving at the Speed of Life

Life moves so fast…

Almost 18 months ago, in a state of grace-meets-panic-meets-medication, David and I brought a baby boy into this crazy world. At what was no doubt a pinnacle moment, we realized a miracle, saw God’s favor come to fruition, and had a lifelong dream fulfilled; the miracle of Jericho’s birth will always be altered by how close we came at delivery to losing our little guy (cord incident). I will never forget watching him turn from gray to pink, and hearing those first cries…seeing my husband stand up and cut the cord (he couldn’t, at Hannah’s birth—he was completely freaked out)…and that first kiss…Getting to have my son in my hospital room with me…Gosh. Just typing this makes me choke up. I can’t believe it’s been 18 months!  I have friends who have had 2, 3, 6, 13 childbirths; I don’t believe birth is ever “typical.” Perhaps “routine,” from a medical standpoint, but to a mother? Never.

Our little Teething Tyrant generally sleeps through the night, but for the past two nights, he has woken us at 4am. This wouldn’t be an issue, if not for the fact that my alarm generally goes off at 4:15 (with room for 3 smacks of the snooze button), Those last 15-29 minutes of sleep are my favorite, and losing them to a sad baby is…Well, it just stinks. Yesterday, I tried comforting him in between hastily throwing on my work clothes and running a comb through my mop of hair; I finally had to give up and wake up Daddy, so that I wasn’t late for work. This morning, I stumbled into his room; David actually woke up on his own and took over, telling me I could have my beautiful last 15 minutes of sleep.

I love that man.

I didn’t fall back asleep.

Instead, I listened to a father comfort his son. I’m pretty sure I heard the rocking chair (Old Faithful!)…a few softly-spoken words…maybe it’s just the smell of the one you love, holding you tight…Within a few minutes, he was back to sleep, and David was back in bed with me.  I took advantage of the few minutes I had left, and snuggled in next to him, myself.  Jericho’s on to something, there…there IS something wonderful about the smell of someone you love, holding you tight…

It’s the simple moments in life that mean the most. We’ve all heard it before—but think about your fondest memories. Sure, I have wonderful memories of amazing vacations with my family, but it’s not the location that made the impact: It’s the love. It’s sitting around a table and laughing at the fact that your mom just got presented with the biggest crawfish in history, on a plate of etouffee. It’s memories of washing dishes with my sister while my single mother sang Larry Gatlin songs about Mogen David. It’s learning to put brakes on my car with my dad, and laughing because I’ve somehow got grease on my forehead.

It’s snuggling into the shoulder of the man you’ve spent the last 13 years with, side-by-side, and still finding that he’s everything you’ve ever wanted…It’s the old t-shirt, sheets-are-a-mess, can’t-find-my-glasses kind of morning that you don’t want to end…It’s no alarm clock, because you know your son will wake you up at 6:30 (on most days) with coos and laughs over the baby monitor. 

It’s sitting on the couch, laughing over The Office, because you both have coworkers that match the characters on the show…

It’s BBQ on a Sunday afternoon…it’s ice cream on a Saturday night.  It’s “hey, I’ll take the baby so you can get 15 minutes more of sleep.” 

Time flies, and I find myself realizing the impact of the Simple Things…I find myself asking God to make the impressions…don’t let me forget…don’t let me ever take it for granted.  I love the developments Jericho is making; I love to watch him learn, walk, run, climb…I wish I could press “pause” and watch him for an extra hour every day. Slow down, little guy…Mommy wants to snuggle you a while longer…

Simple things…The Very Best Things…

9 ½ years ago, I married the Love of my Life (where it all began)…Although it seems like a lifetime ago, it also seems like yesterday…moments like remembering his expression when I started to walk down the aisle...finding out David forgot his vows…laughing about my Dad forgetting to have people sit down for the ceremony…that feeling of utter and complete panic before I left the Ready Room…and of singing “Bootylicious” with my bridesmaids before the ceremony in the Ready Room, not realizing that the ENTIRE congregation could hear us…(that STILL makes me crack up!)…

Realizing after the wedding that I’d done it…I’d made the greatest commitment of my life, and there was no changing my mind now…and realizing that was okay with me.

I find myself taking pictures almost non-stop, because I can’t get over how fast life changes…David is the photographer, but he’s taught me to capture memories…I can’t get over how the time is moving. 18 months—really?!?

It seems like yesterday.

Two people…two babies…a dog, a small house in the country…jobs, basic cars... a mortgage, some debt…Nothing fancy…

Everything I could ever want…

We’ve had our mountains and our deep valleys, but God has carried us through…We don’t have much, but we have so much that can’t be seen…

And I am so

Incredibly

Thankful…