My Life Isn't Hard (although sometimes I like to think it is)

I am so tired of snot.
It's been over a month now and I'm still wiping noses constantly.
Or worse yet, listening to snot being sniffed back up into noses.
Finding trails of dried snot across couch cushions, pillow cases, tee shirts, my pant leg.
Every table in the house covered with soggy, snot-filled tissues and rolls of toilet paper because we run out of tissues too fast.

It's gross.
Oh, how tired I am of snot.
Because along with the snot there have been a seemingly endless string of sleepless nights.
All that snot makes for much coughing.
And sleepless nights make for cranky days.
I know they must feel awfully miserable, because they've been acting miserably awful.


But the sad truth is that they were not the only ones acting awful.
For a few days last week, I sort of lost it.
All the little things, from the sniffing of snot, to the piles of laundry that I couldn't seem to conquer, added up, until there were moments when I literally wanted to pull my hair out.
The only thing that stopped me was knowing how much hair I've already lost.
Sadly, I am not kidding.
And I wondered if something was wrong with me.
I was so short with my kids.
I'd find myself furious over insignificant things--knowing I was being unreasonable and yet not stopping.
It was scary.
But more than anything, it was lonely.


I didn't want to talk to anyone about it because how do you tell someone, "I can't handle this right now.  I feel like I am going crazy."
And when they say, "oh my gosh, what's wrong?"
You say, "well, there's a pile of snotty tissue in every room of the house, and if I have to wipe snot off of one more persons face, I might pull out my hair. And no matter how many times I clean the windows they still put their hands all over it, and I just don't want to do this right now.  I want a break."
Because when you say that, they'll look at you like you really are crazy because none of that is very bad.
My life is not hard.
I just like to think it is.

I've seen hard.
When I was 16 I went to India.
We didn't stay in a hotel.
Or live in one of those neighborhoods surrounded by a tall wall and protected by guards with big guns.
We lived in the slums.
There was was electricity.
Sometimes.
There was a toilet.
A room with a hole in the ground where you squatted and afterwards poured a cup of water down the hole to "flush" it down.
Everyday we'd walk past streets with open sewers running right down the middle of them.
Past beggars on little wheeled carts, with limbs missing from leprosy.
We'd walk past homes made of cardboard and maybe a piece of plastic for a roof.
And inside those homes, a mommy and daddy, some babies playing in the dirt with some dirty clothes on.
Or none.
Lots and lots of those homes.
Lots.
There were piles of trash.
Many were big--taller than me.
And so smelly that I gagged every time we walked past them.
I will never forget the day we were walking past one of those piles and there, sitting in the trash, the same trash where rats crawled in broad daylight, sat a baby.
She was not very old.
Maybe a year.
She was alone.


It was horrifying.
But the news that her parents were probably near by, rummaging through the trash for scraps of metal or cloth to sell, the lowest of the lowliest jobs, was even more horrifying.
What did life hold for her?
No.  My life is not hard.


And yet, I heard myself say it, one night when I was up again, soothing a crying, coughing child.
"Why is my life so hard?"
I knew when I said it that it was ridiculous.
Selfish.
Juvenile.
But I was sick of it all.
And then I turned on the water in the faucet to get a drink of water for my boy.
And I remembered that little girl.
And her momma.
And I thought, "if her girl was coughing she could not get her water from a faucet.  She couldn't give her hot tea and honey.  A steam shower.  Or, if things got really bad, a breathing treatment."
How hard that would be.


Sometimes I get lost in my own little world.
I loose sight of the truth.
I believe the lies: "your life is so hard.  You don't deserve this.  No one appreciates you."


I am grateful for truth spoken into my heart--truth from 19 years ago.
I am grateful for this post that describes so exactly how I was feeling and reminded me that I am not alone.
There are lots of other mothers walking this journey with me.
And even more importantly, God is walking this journey with me.
In the middle of the night, when I am spent and achingly tired, God is there.
In the snot, in the cranky days, in the yelling, the frustration, in these most cheerless days of motherhood, He is here and He cares about this.
He cares about me.
Think of it!
"Cast all your cares upon Him, for He cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7)
And that changes everything.


Things are better.
Even though William, Lilly and Davy were all up last night.
Even though William is still trying to wipe his snotty nose on the couch.
Even though James is still coughing up a lung.
Even though circumstances haven't changed much.
My perspective has.
Yes, I am grateful for the truth.
"Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." John 8:32
Love from,
Greta

Busy

In order for you to understand how far gone I am right now, you have to know that looking at the title of this post is making a Veggie Tales song run through my head.  

It's called "Busy" and it is extremely annoying.

It is very sad and wrong that a Veggie Tales song is stuck in my head.

But it's not surprising.  

I'm sort of walking around in a state of delirium.

Caused by these people.

They are kicking my butt.

I can't blame it all on Davy because he's a good sleeper.  

I get a good 6 or 7 hour stretch out of him every night.  And then I feed him and he goes right back to sleep.

But if you have ever experienced interrupted sleep, over and over for weeks on end, you know it starts to mess you up.

Especially when you can't be sure of a nap at some point in the day.

It's all of them.

Not that I don't love them to pieces, because I do.

It's just that there are a lot of them and 1 of me and I'm operating on a sleep deficit that is probably not healthy.

And when your day with children starts at 6 or 7 am and doesn't end until 10 pm, you get a little stir crazy.

For example, at 10 when the baby goes down, you know you should go to bed, but you are so stoked to have a moment to complete a thought or, sweet fancy Moses!, a sentence, that you just stay up.

To talk to your husband, to read a magazine or book, to go out with a friend or even blog.

And while this is refreshing at the moment, after a time, your mind starts to go.

That's where I'm at right now.

I don't write during the day--I have a myriad of other duties to attend to.

If I try to squeeze in blogging, time with my kids suffer and I don't want them to remember me writing about our life on my blog instead of living it.

Thus, if the nights don't allow for blogging, it doesn't happen.

And lately, it's not happening.

I miss it a lot, but like I keep reminding myself, this is a season.

I am learning, again, that I can't do everything. (think I get the lesson now, OK?)

Some days it feels like I can't do anything.

Except: feed the kids, nurse the baby, set up the pool, make some beds, make some snacks, nurse the baby, referee arguments,wash some dishes, make some lunch, nurse the baby, read stories, make some snacks, go for a walk,nurse the baby....

You get the idea.

I am deep in the throes of Mommydom right now.

I'm glad to be here, but I'll also be glad to come up for air.

This week I'm at "home" in Fallbrook, staying at my parents, and taking the kids to VBS at my dad's church.

We do it every year and my kids would not miss it for the world.

They even chose this over camping.

Even though it's a busy week, it will nice to be around other adults--especially ones who like to play with my kids (thanks dad!) and hold the baby and make dinner.  (thanks mom!)

And we'll go swim at my in laws as often as possible. (thanks mom and dad!)

I'm looking forward to the change of scenery.

Except I miss Aaron like crazy.

I guess I can't have it all.

So I won't be here this week--I'm taking another summer vacation.

However, in honor of my birthday (I'm turning 35 on Wednesday.  Eeek!) I am posting a gift guide over at Picnics In the Park.

There will be fun new stuff to drool over every day.

I can pull it off because I do not have to generate content.

It's another little break.

Go check me out over there and do some shopping.

Even if it's just window shopping like I'm doing.

It's still fun.  Promise.

I'll see you at Picnics and then back here next week.

Love from,

Greta

Impromptu Photo Shoot

We went camping this weekend.  It was lots of fun.

Except for the nights.

I have never had a problem sleeping in tents.

And I can sleep almost anywhere.

But I haven't been 7 months pregnant and sleeping in a tent.

That drips.  

On my face all night.

And gets buffeted by the wind.

Which makes more drips.

And wakes me up all night long.

And then there was the acid reflux.

And 2 kids who were coughing a lot.

And 1 kid who slept on the air mattress with me and peed.

He hasn't peed the bed since he was 2 years old and potty training.

I thought I was having a bad dream.

So we put down some beach towels and I slept in a shirt that was partially damp with pee.

Then I had to pee in the bushes at 3 am since I wouldn't go to the bathrooms by myself and wouldn't wake up Aaron who had finally gotten 1 of the coughing kids to sleep.

And I had a Wiggles song stuck in my head.

I kept checking the clock all night long to see if the night was almost over.

Despite it all, I did manage to laugh quite a few times because it was just all really too funny to believe.

It was quite a couple of nights.

In the morning, after a small bit of sleep, I woke to birds singing.  

And I decided I still liked camping.

And this morning, I woke again to birds singing and to this sight.

It wasn't yet 7, when we all piled in the van and headed south just a bit to our favorite breakfast spot.
The sunrise seemed like it was just for us.

We ate at Pannikin.  It's a big, old coffee shop in Encinitas.
Aaron and I used to go there a lot when we were dating.  
They have the most amazing pastries.
Now it's our camping tradition to go there.  The kids love it too.
We sit out on the 2nd story deck, watch the birds, the trains and enjoy being together.


William and James took these pictures of us squinting into the sun.
I love them.(camping hair, no make-up, pregnancy moon face and all.  it's real life.)

17 years and 5 kids later.

Lots and lots of sleepless nights.

Lots of laughter, tears, and joy abounding.

Now we're visiting the same old places with our little people and building new memories.

James is making already making plans for us to go to Pannikin for breakfast with his kids.

Dreams do come true.

Happy Monday.

Love from,

Greta

Life Made Lovely Monday:

I'm linking this post to Life Made Lovely. 

I have never had such a response to any other post I've written and I am so thankful to all of you for your kinds words regarding it.  To those who reposted it and shared it with others, thank you so much.  
Aaron and I have made some mistakes in our marriage.  We've messed up sometimes and at others been selfish.

But by God's grace, we are learning to love each other better and in a more real way than ever before.  If my story can encourage your heart, then I give the praise to God. 
Because I am realizing more fully each day that no matter how badly we mess it all up, God can fix it.  Because, like my dad always says, God is in the business of redemption.
Yes He is. 

Now go check out Life Made Lovely for all sorts of inspiration.

A Peek at my Blog Identity Card--or Whatever You Want to Call It

I just got back from Blog Sugar--well an hour ago--and I have lots to show and tell.

I saw old friends and new friends and blogging friends.

And I loved it all.

But people, I must sleep. There have been birthday parties and sickness and the making of these beautiful, beautiful business cards and it has all kept me up late into the night.

For like the last month.

So I am off to bed and I'll be back next week to talk of ships and shoes and sealing wax

and Blog Sugar and things. Like these awesome blog identity cards. Business cards? I don't know what I should call them. All I know is I love them.

Have a wonderful 3 day weekend, friends, and please remember to thank a soldier for the sacrifices he or she makes for us daily. Remember the fallen and remember those that are here with us now. They deserve our thanks.

Hoping to catch up on sleep this weekend (but it won't happen) and hoping you have fun plans too.

Love from,

Greta

Taking Care of Mommy

There have been a lot of long nights lately. No one has been horribly ill, just sick enough to keep Mommy and Daddy up a lot. Fevers, snot, lots of crankiness and the coughing, oh the coughing. The coughing attacks translate into climbing into Mommy and Daddy's bed, or middle of the night steam showers (as mentioned here) or, at the very least, waking Mommy while the cougher somehow manages to sleep through it.

But Monday night was the longest of all. I spent 3 hours in the ER with Lilly. We got home at 4:30. I got 3 hours of sleep that night. (She's OK--left after waiting for 3 hours and seeing 1 person called in. But that's another story)

All of these sleep disturbances have left this Mommy feeling so very, very tired. Even though my parents came up yesterday, and I got to take an extra long nap (bless you Mom and Dad!) I was still feeling exhausted today.

So when Lilly went down for her nap, I went down too. The boys had strict instructions to play quietly with Legos on the back porch, or read inside. They didn't let me down.

This pregnancy has been good for them. I am putting a lot more responsibility on them. They have to help Mommy. That is all there is to it. I need them.

I need them to let me nap. I need them not to wake up Lilly. I need them to give themselves a shower, dry themselves off, and get into their jammies. I need them to get themselves water and snacks. I need them to be much more self sufficient.

It all sounds very wonderful, doesn't it? I'm training my boys to be men! But right now, a lot of it just means more work for me. More spills. More water all over the bathroom. More art messes made during quiet time.

But let me tell you, the joy they feel when they do it themselves and help me, the pride they feel for being big boys, it is worth all the extra work.

Last week they made those hearts and proudly taped them in the front window. With blue painters tape. "Isn't it cool Mom? We made Valentines decorations for you. Do you like our surprise?" In fact, they were so happy they made the decorations for me that they couldn't resist waking me up to show me. ( a direct violation of the fire, blood, poop or barf rule, but how could I be mad?)

"Now you don't have to put up decorations because we did it for you!"

They really do love to take care of me.

Well today, Lilly slept and slept. So I did too.

And these two,

well, they made me a feast.

Even in my sleep, my Mommy radar is tuned in. I knew it was quiet for an awfully long time. I had given them permission to have a cookie, but I knew many, many minutes had passed since I had murmured, "yes! Just go get a cookie!" with my eyes closed.

So I dragged myself off the couch and went into the kitchen.

And they had the biggest grins.

"Mommy!" they said.

"We made you a feast! It's for all of us. We didn't even know we could make a feast so big, but it has everything you like. We wanted to make you a feast because you're pregnant and we need to take care of you."

I wanted to take them to Target right then and there and buy them every Star Wars Lego set in the place.

They were so happy to do something for me. Their very own idea, executed solely by them and a total surprise to me. How can I rob them of that joy? So what's a little more clean up?

And I know that feast looks like a bit of a mess, but take a closer look.

It's all in the details.

There was butter. Because we love butter.

4 cups of my favorite mineral water. Even though William and I are the only ones who like it.

Lots of fruit, because it's healthy.

Bread, raisins, a hard boiled egg and the jam that they'd been saving since we went out to breakfast at the Pot Holder a month ago. They wanted to share it at the feast.

Also, tortilla chips and avocados for guacamole. They really wanted to make the guacamole, but thought they might get in trouble for using one of the sharp knives. (I am certain that was the voice of James overriding the voice of William on that one!)

It was a lovely feast.

This isn't their first feast. You might remember another one they made for me.

They are getting more sophisticated. And it's something they really love to do.

This thing that happened out of necessity, be more responsible because Mommy has to rest, has turned into an amazing way for them to show their love for me.

I never could have planned it.

There are a lot of late nights in this business of parenting--but a lot of lovely feasts, too.

And, I think these boys are well on their way to becoming amazing husbands. I'm just sayin.

____________________________________

A little side note. All this sickness and extreme fatigue has made for sporadic posting and posts not happening as I'd like them to. Like this. So, there will be 2 more Valentines Day posts, even though the holiday is past and there are already beach towels and sand toys filling the aisles at Target. This blog is a reflection of my life.

Things don't always happen on time, or when I want them too.

So just hang with me here. The next 8 months might be a little bumpy!

William's Big Decision

William. He has taught me so much about being a better parent. He has taught me so much about myself. Being William's Mommy has brought me to my knees, more often to pray for myself than for him. It has humbled me and shown me how prideful I am. He teaches me about forgiveness.

I love this little guy more than I could ever tell you.

A few weeks ago, the kids and I were driving home from church, and James asked me about getting baptized. 
"Jesus didn't get baptized until he was a grown-up," he said. 
Since I speak James, I was able to translate this into: "there ain't no way you're dunking me in that water until I am big!"

William wanted to argue so he said, "I want to get baptized."

James wouldn't stand for this and immediately jumped in with his 2 cents. "You have to ask Jesus into your heart first, William. You can do it. It's easy. I did it when I was 3. It isn't hard at all."

William put on his grouchy face, and said, "this is a really bad day."

Since I speak William, I knew what he was really saying: "this conversation is making me uncomfortable, and I don't like it. And I don't like James telling me what to do. And I'm not going to do what anyone tells me. So there."

But he's been thinking about it.

Tonight, while he cuddled with Daddy before bed, William rolled over and said, "Daddy, I want to go to heaven and see Jesus."

Aaron said, "all right," and they prayed together.

Then William said, "but I don't want to die on the cross, Daddy."

He doesn't understand it all.  But he has faith.  And as he grows, he'll learn more. He still has some thinking to do.

About a year ago, Aaron and I were in the trenches with William. Every night we entered the no man's land of putting him to bed. Bombs exploded, there were tears, there was anger, there was great frustration and there was sadness. We felt like the worst parents. We felt like he was winning and we wanted to win.

Often times days weren't much better. It was a hard few months. It felt like the biggest thing we had ever dealt with and we didn't even know how to deal with it. It seemed that William's whole future depended on this one thing: will he go to bed and stay there like we tell him? Will he obey?If not, does it mean he is destined for a life of drugs, crime and prison? Or something like that.

Finally, we folded. We just laid down with him and held him until he fell asleep. We felt like failures. Loser parents. Weak.

Mostly we were tired.

But as the months have gone by, our view has changed. Bedtime with William has become one of the best parts of the day. That boy loves to cuddle. He whispers sweet words in our ears and makes sweet confessions like, "I love everyone, Mommy, but I don't love bad guys." Or, "Mommy, I promise never to do anything dangerous." I think he thrives on that little bit of one on one time he gets with his Mommy and Daddy. He connects with us there. And we connect with him.

I think if we had stuck with it, we could have beaten him down emotionally until we had won. But what would that have done to his heart? His heart is so soft, so tender. All day long he stops and looks at me, "I love you, Mommy." Oh he still has fits, but if I stop him and hold him and speak to him in love, not anger, he responds.

He was only 2 and he needed us. He needed us then and we were so hell bent on getting him to stay in bed that we didn't even see it.

Would it have been worth it? Sometimes I'd say yes. When I don't want to lay down and cuddle at the end of a long day. 
But mostly, I'd say no. Because who would have been there to hear that sweet little voice say, "Daddy, I want to go to heaven to see Jesus."

We can govern our children with fear, or we can govern our children with love. I'm finding that love works much better.

"A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." Proverbs 15:1

Love from,
Greta

Waking Up William

William loves naps. He asks to take a nap. He says things like, "I want you to lay down with me, Mommy" or, "I'll eat this cookie after I go to sleep because I really want to go to sleep right now."

How can I argue with that?

Besides, a William that has napped is so much better than a William that hasn't napped that it is almost as if they are two different Williams. I love when William naps.

The problem is that when William naps, William likes to stay awake late at night. That is tiresome. Because a William awake at 10 PM, even a happy William, is just too much William for one day.

So I have to wake him up from his naps.

It isn't easy.

I tickle his dirty, little feet. I rub his back. I promise him chocolate. I say we'll play cars, or build train tracks.

He is just still so tired.

And grouchy.

BUT THEN.....

He gives me this smile and says something like, "Mommy, I want french fries."

Oh that William.

Summertime Sleepyness

We've reintroduced the nap for summertime. Can I tell you how wonderful it is? OH MY WORD! I forgot how marvelous, amazing really, it is to have 3 sleeping children smack in the middle of the afternoon when I often want to smack them. Kidding. Kind of.

We were in a good groove of no naps and early bed time, and this will set us back, I know. But after a morning of pooling or bike riding or slip and sliding or beaching, or all 4, they often ask me for a nap. These boys are plum tuckered.
Besides, when it is hot in the afternoon, naps just seem like the right thing to do. Beds almost call to you, like the call of the siren. It makes for later bed times, and sometimes I do regret that. But most nights we are enjoying the warm summer air and the light that lasts past 8. It's summer and we want to make the most of it.

I think autumn might be hard for me.

Uncle B Babysits

Uncle B. That's Uncle Ben. Not of the rice fame, but of the teach my boys all kinds of things that will annoy his big sister fame. Like the day I found William outside peeing into the back of one of his dump trucks.

"What in the world are you doing?" I asked him.

"Uncle B. told me to, "he said all innocence.

Or when James told me about the new game Uncle B. taught him, Bottoms Up. "You throw the ball in the air, and if you miss it, you have to stick your bottom in the air and the other players throw the ball at your bottom." I can see that game going no where good with my 2 boys.

The boys love Uncle B. He wrestles with them, and tickles them and throws them around. He plays baseball with them and gave them $ for their birthday. He is cool. Uncle B. loves them too. But, they wear him out. One day, he was playing hide and seek with them at our house, and they couldn't find him. They looked for a long time. I even looked. We finally gave up. Turns out he had crawled under the covers on James' bed and fallen asleep. He said he needed a little break!

On this particular day, Uncle B. was watching a game at my parent's house. The boys wanted to be with him, but he was tired, and watching the game. Uncle B. came up with a simple solution. Put Mickey Mouse Club house on his Blackberry, hold it up for them to see, keep them quiet and the wrestling to a minimum.

I checked back an hour later. William and Uncle B. had both fallen asleep. James was still watching Mickey Mouse Club House. Seems like it worked out for all of them. Maybe I should have Uncle B. babysit more often.