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Sleep.  All I want is sleep.  Twelve hour night shifts are very hard on my body.  All I want is sleep.

Eight o'clock in the morning rolls around and I hit the hay...hard.  Dead to the world. 

Muffled in the far distance...Ring...Ring...Ring...

I painfully open my eyes.  One o'clock in the afternoon.  The phone stops.  I drift back to wonderful sleep.

Ring...Ring...Ring...

I answer the phone, my voice hoarse from sleep.

It was the woman who wants to work with my son at school, "coordinate his care."  She rambled on and on and on.  Something about..."He maybe needs a para to work with him...we need to develop a concise plan to help him [physically] keep up with the other children...need to get together a team of people to help him with his  special needs..." on and on and on. 

Abram getting ready to go sledding.  It is a lot of work to carry him through the snow, but he loves it!

I complacently agree.  "What ever you think is fine...sure send the papers and I will look at them..."  All I want is sleep.

Twenty minutes later I hung up the phone.  Buried myself in the bed and tried to sleep.

But I could not.  Special Needs.  That is a label that will stick with him for the rest of his life.  Special Needs.

Why is it so hard to swallow your child being labeled?

Abram is so normal to me.  I know normal is a relative term, but he seems like every other normal 4-year- old-boy.  When he plays with other children, I can not tell that he is different.  When he wrestles with his big brother, it just seems so normal.

Opening up Christmas presents...it was a very exciting day!

So, when I get woken up from a beautiful sleep after a very stressful night of work at the hospital by a woman who continuously reminds me that my little boy, one of the loves of my life, is not normal and needs extra help, it makes me nauseated.  I don't know how else to describe it. 

I look at other moms and their children and they all look so...normal.  Ugh.  What a terrible word.

But lately I can feel that Abram is struggling---physically.  He has a hard time walking in the snow and slush.  So, I carry him.  Granted he is not heavy, but he is a lot heavier that last winter.  And then he has a million pounds of boots, snow pants, and a coat on top of his weight. He complains about his legs hurting and needing to be carried.  Then, on top of the weight of carrying my child and my own stressors, I have snickering aunts who say, "He is too old to be carried.  You need to make him walk."  Make him walk.  Haha.  If it were that easy, I would do it.  Or a comment from Abram's uncle, affirming he will not accept his nephew because he is different and I need to learn how to mother him.  Again, an example of comments that should not be said.

So, on the heels of the discussion with his new coordinator of care (whom I really hope I can get along with) and a few days prior to returning to Gillette for another visit, my heart hurts.  With all of the labels carried with my little boy, all of the stress carried on my shoulders, physically coming to the realization that I can not keep carrying him anymore, and feeling stuck about what the next steps in his life entail, I feel my face wet with tears that I have been holding in too long.  I have to keep telling myself that it is okay to cry.  It is okay to shed tears for a little boy who has to struggle.  He does not know any different.  I need to learn just to breath and let it all go.  It is not in my hands anyway.

All we can do is pray harder and longer.  There is nothing else we can do.  There is no cure for Abram.  There is no "fixing him."  We work with him and try to make him stronger.  Wrestle him into his back brace everyday.  And that's it.  That is all we have to help him.  All we have is hope.

{On a side note...For myself, this blog has helped me.  I can now type out my feelings.  I have tried to keep a diary or journal but I never stuck with it.  I do not even care if anyone ever reads this.  It is nice to get comments but I do not thrive on them.  I just want to document little glimpses and snapshots on our life.  So, I am very thankful for that.}

Life is a journey that we have to take.  We just have to keep hanging on for the ride.

"Through humor, you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it." -Bill Cosby

My #2 Job

My #1, first and foremost, job is being a mom.  My #2 job is being a wife.  With that said, sometimes being a wife feels a lot like being a mom.  Instead of having two little boys, I have two little boys and a really, really big little boy.

I realize that the divorce rate is...somewhere around 50%.  This is very high and very sad.  Some of the elderly people that I take care of at the hospital say they have been married 50, 60, and even 70 years.  I wonder what percentage of America is going to make that in the next several decades.  I dream of growing old and grey with Aaron.  Walking hand in hand, wrinkled skin and limping.

Life is hard.  Life is extra hard when you add marriage and kids. And then it is really really hard when you add kids with special needs into the mix.  The divorce rate sky rockets with that.  It is work to keep a marriage and a family going.  A lot of work.  And sometimes it seems like no one appreciates you or all of your hard work.  But then, there will be a glimmering moment, a quiet "thank you" or "I love you" or just a smile that makes it all worth while.

I have been with Aaron for almost ten years.  There are a few things that I have learned in this time.

#1...He will never hang his towels up after a shower.

#2...He will never put his dirty clothes in his hamper (a hamper that I specifically purchased just for him.)  He may place them on the floor, along side of the hamper.  But very rarely do they ever make it into the hamper.

#3...He will never get his dirty dishes in the sink when he is done eating.  They may make it from the dining room to the counter, but never to the sink

#4...He will always eat in bed, even when I ask him not to.  I brush the crumbs out of our bed every morning before I make it.

#5...He will never put his boots in his boot tray.  Even though that is specifically what it is there for.

#6...He can always cheer me up.  No matter how down in the dumps I am.

#7...He loves me, with his whole heart, despite all of my flaws. 

#8...He unconditionally loves our children.  With all of his heart.  Equally.

#9...He is my best friend and always a phone call away.  He always has been there when I need him.  No matter what.

#10...We will be married forever.

Aaron doesn't read my blog, except he did catch a glimpse of the post with his butt crack showing (sorry honey---but I could not resist.)  But if he does, I just want him to know that I love him!  He is my partner in life and what a journey it has been so far.  And I hope someday, 60 or 70 years down the road, when I am sitting in the hospital and the nurse asks me how long I have been married, I can say with a smile "70 years."

"Love is not about finding the right person, but creating the right relationship. It's not about how much love you have in the beginning but how much love you build till the end."---Jumar (I do not know who Jumar is but I really like this quote)

Referee

I know I am a mom, but sometimes I feel more like a referee.  My wardrobe should consist of black and white striped shirts with whistle accessories (and black, suede, wedge knee high boots----just dreaming.)

Lately Noah and Abram have been rough-housing constantly. To try to keep them contained and not destroy the house is a miracle.  But, they are boys and that is what boys are suppose to do (or so I am told.)  And now that it is winter, we are cooped up inside more often then not.  I know they are itching to go outside and play in the dirt just as much as I am (I really miss my garden.)  But, unfortunately we live in the arctic tundra and the dirt is frozen.

There are days when I feel like I yell more than I talk nicely.  "Get off of your brother...don't come crying to me if one of you gets hurt...furniture is to sit on, not climb on...what happened to the monkey that was jumping on the bed...do you know how much an ER visit costs..." and on and on...  I am a patient person but sometimes little boys know which buttons to push to set mom off.

Our days consist of sword fights, gun battles, army brigades, racing, building forts and lots and lots of energy.  I think that the most difficult aspect involving parenting is when your day comes to an end, you are exhausted.  Somedays I feel so tired that I could lay down anywhere and go to sleep.  I can literally lay down on the floor, or sit up on the couch and doze off.  One time I laid my head down on the table at the library and was fast asleep (this could partially be because we night nurses can sleep anytime, anywhere.) And then on the other end of the spectrum, we have children that are never ending balls of energy.  I wish there was a way to channel their energy to heat our home.

When mom took away the foam swords, they decided to create their own.

So, I sit on the couch, sometimes in a fog of being overwhelmed by everyday life and feeling like a failure as a mother, while I am watching my children battle with foam swords (again, which I have read... and have been told... is completely normal.)  How does a mother of two boys, two dogs, and a cat (not to forget the third child...the husband) keep her sanity in the dead of winter?  I may never figure that one out.

But then at night, when the snow is falling gently on our Christmas lights, and our hurricanes are lightly snoring in bed, they look completely peaceful.  Like little angels.  I could sit and watch them sleep for hours.

Maybe I am not the worst mother in the world.  Our home is still intact.  We laugh and giggle far more than yell and cry.  When Aaron comes home the boys run into his arms and excitedly scream "DADDY!"  Maybe we do not have to be the best parents.  Maybe unconditional love is really all that two little boys need.

"You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back."  ~William D. Tammeus

One of My Favorite Things

I love making Christmas cookies.  Not hoards of cookies.  Just a couple of small batches. 

 A little something to fill our hearts and our tummies...

 ...keep us warm on cold winter days...

                                    ...or just to have a small gathering with a couple of friends...

 ...and six out-of-sorts kids...

...I am thankful that we are able to gather to do simple things such as put frosting on cookies and find true joy in it.  I hope that our children will remember the little things because that is what matters. 

 "Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend."-Albert Camus

What do ya do?

What do you do with a defiant child?  What do you do with a child that is very disobedient?  What do you do if time outs just don't work?  If quiet time in his room does not work?  If taking away privileges and toys and beloved everyday items do...not...work...  We typically do not support spanking but I have a feeling if we tried it, it would not work.

What do you do when this sweet little boy....

...tells you that he is the boss and you need to listen to him...hits his big brother hard (and Noah refuses to defend himself, "It did not hurt mom" he usually says...)

What do you when he tests every ounce of sanity that you have left inside and you feel like you are going to loose your mind?

I keep reminding myself...he is only four...he has had a long, tough road...he is only four...

I have run out of ideas on how to discipline him.  I have tried everything from sticker charts to reading passages from the Bible to taking away every toy that is in his possession.  It does not slow him down.  He laughs at me.  If anything, it makes him more destructive.  More defiant.

Consistency is key I am told.  And I am consistent.  Very consistent.  Nothing seems to work.

So...what do you do?

The Christmas Tree Story

I love the holidays.  I know it sounds cliche but it is the most wonderful time of the year. 

My favorite part is decorating our Christmas trees with Noah and Abram.  They look forward to this time all year long. 

It is difficult to keep children grounded on the meaning behind the holidays during this day and age.  On Thanksgiving, we are not celebrating turkeys.  And Christmas is not about presents and toys. 

So, while we are putting up our Christmas trees, one way that I attempt to help my children understand why Christmas time is so important is the story of the Christmas tree.

This is how I usually try to tell it:

Thousands of years ago, there were many people who did not believe in Jesus and His Father.  These people are called pagans and at that time, they were worshipping something very silly...an oak tree.

A man named St. Boniface was outraged by this ideal.  He took matters into his own hands and cut down their oak tree.

Time passed and another tree sprouted in its place.  A fir tree. 

The Christians took this as a sign of Christian Faith believing that the fir tree was a sign of the Holy Trinity.

I know that it sounds like a simple, maybe even juvenile, way to explain a small part of Christmas tradition.  But I think that it is important that children have roots, and they understand where things come from.  And, our plastic, pre-lit Christmas trees in our home are not just there to look pretty.  They have a very important meaning behind them.

And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear. (10) And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy that will be for all the people. (11) For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. (12) And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”  Luke 2:9-12

The Monthly Curse

Once a month I get a headache, cramps, extra mood swings, and tend to drive my family crazy.  My face erupts in a terrible acne frenzy.  I get gray hairs just thinking about it.  This once-a-month activity is known to our family as... "Grocery Shopping Day." Ugh, I can feel the cramps just thinking about it.

Living out in the boonies has taught me that organization is key to grocery shopping.  There is only ONE small, over priced grocery store in a town near where I live and I refuse to shop there.  So, once a month I travel for one hour to a different town and get our groceries (we do get our milk at a gas station when we run out.)  I keep a running list on the fridge until it is time to go.  It is cheaper for me to drive an hour in an SUV to get groceries than to drive five miles into town and shop at our local grocery store, that is how insanely overpriced they are. 

I feel very fortunate because our gardening produce lasts us for about a year.  We have potatoes, squash, and many different kinds of canned fruits and vegetables.  Our meat (chicken, beef, pork) comes from our family farm.  And we are completely spoiled because my sister-in-law supplies us with a never ending supply of farm fresh eggs.  To top that off, my husband shot a deer this year so we have venison also.  If there was a drastic famine, we would be fine.

But, even with all of this food that we do not have to buy, we still have to occasionally venture to the grocery store. 

Today I chose to go to Wal-Mart.  Oh, how I dislike Wal-Mart.  But it is "one stop shopping."  At 0900 in the morning, the entire store was chaos.  I almost got ran over in the parking lot by a mini van containing a mom on a mission with several little kids.  My life flashed before my eyes.  Then, to top off a bad experience, there were two little old women that were fighting over the last container of vanilla extract...it was bad.  Screaming at each other while both of them pulled the vanilla bottle back and forth.  What is wrong with people?

Before I knew it the cart was full of food from my grocery list and I felt that the ginormous walls were closing in on me.  "I hope I can make the last few items fit...I do not want to grab another cart..." I thought to myself, starting to become unglued.  There is nothing worse than trying to maneuver two carts through the checkout line and outside in a crazy parking lot, through slushy snow.   

Who stands out in the middle of a busy parking lot, on a freezing cold day, in a futile attempt to get snap shots of their groceries?

I had carefully arranged the assortment of food in the cart so that it would be easy to empty onto the check out counter, bag by various categories of items, place into the back end of my car, unload into our kitchen, and unpack into our pantry, fridge, and freezers.  The redundance in this process is painfully necessary! 

In the midst of a grocery getting frenzy, I almost lost my life to a minivan...two little old ladies opened up a can of whoop-ass...I spent three hundred dollars on groceries...had at least a trillion panic attacks...and am exhausted.  All for being to stubborn to shop at our local grocery store.

“Ever consider what pets must think of us? I mean, here we come back from a grocery store with the most amazing haul - chicken, pork, half a cow. They must think we're the greatest hunters on earth!”--Anne Tyler

20 Minutes

"Let's go play out in the snow!"  Abram yells as he runs about the house.  He has been impatiently waiting all day (while we babysat a newborn.)

I know how this goes....30 minutes to get ready, find our snow clothes, mittens that work for him, extra socks, boots, scarves, hats, sleds, shovels, and so on.  Then, we will play outside for all of...umm...lets say... 20 minutes at the most. 

It was snowing cats and dogs.  Abram insisted on shoveling snow.

Then we have to disrobe in the mud room, throw the snow clothes in the dryer, clean up the floor from all of the snow that was tracked in, and then to finish off our mission, make hot cocoa and a warm snack (like cookies.)  All for playing outside in the snow for 20 minutes.



Only in Minnesota.

"A lot of people like snow.  I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water."  ~Carl Reiner

Overly Blessed

Sometimes I do not know if I do the "right" things in life...I usually do what I think is best but is that right?  Life does not come with a book of paths to follow, although the Bible is a good reference tool.  So, today on Thanksgiving, I am looking around my brother-in-laws home at all of my family and extended family members.  I feel very blessed.  Although lately, I have felt overly blessed. 

After I was done with work for the day, I returned home and showered.  I am thankful that I have a great job with job security.  I changed into a brand new sweater (that I had bought to wear at Thanksgiving,) pulled on my make-my-butt-look-smaller jeans, switched my purses and changed into my expensive shoes.  I grabbed my $4 a loaf bread and my car keys.

 Then the guilt set in... I shook it off and ran out the door with my husband on my arm. 

We arrived at Caleb's, my brother-in-laws, and most of the family was already settled.  The tables were crowded with many dishes of foods, several different kinds of beverages, and lots of chit chatting about who did what.  The meal was by far one of the best meals that I have eaten.  But, I started to feel a little guilty, again---all of this over abundance of food. 

We ate on fancy dishes, spilling on brand new tables cloths that were purchased just for this occasion, and passed around beautiful serving dishes with shiny silver spoons.  The tables were decorated with crystal votives and fall colored candles.  Would the evening have been just as special with out all of the worldly goods?  If we had only bread and water, eating out of a trough...would we have all been as happy? 

Laughter filled the room, children playing cars on the floor, a little white dog sniffing all of the guests.  The entire evening I felt guilty because I feel overly blessed.  How would I feel if I lost all of our possessions?  These worldly goods are not going to get me any closer to heaven, then why have them.  Why not vow to live more simply, without fancy cars, expensive cloths, and a nice house?  Is there a difference between having possessions and being possessed by your possessions?

The questions that I have about being overly blessed come from a movie that I watched called The Book of Eli.  It is about the aftermath of the end of the world.  It was violent, very violent, and I do not like violent movies.  But, this movie struck a cord because the people had nothing.  NOTHING.  Water was the most valuable commodity.  They would kill over shampoo.  And, the most precious valuable on earth...the Bible. 

Jesus and his disciples were simple people, carpenters and tradesmen, living life on the bare minimum.  Buddha was a simple and ordinary person, just trying to teach and help people.  Most religions put emphasis on being humble, having humility, maintaining virtue, and so on.  No religion or belief system emphasizes having piles of money or expensive belongings, at least no religion that I feel is worth following.  So, this holiday season I am trying to figure out how to live life more simply.  Not just to live simply, but to give to those who are less fortunate or just need help. I do not want to live in a hut and stare at my belly button all day, but I do think that our family needs some sort of simplicity intervention (this coming on the heels of buying an expensive new camera...I will start living more simply tomorrow.) 

So, instead of giving the boys big fancy presents, I have decided to donate to children who have daily struggles for things that we take for granted.  (They will still get a little something to open up, but I am going to try to keep it minimal.)  I am also going to encourage any of our family members who read this blog to do the same thing.

“Three Rules of Work: Out of clutter find simplicity; From discord find harmony; In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.” --Albert Einstein

23 And Jesus looked round about, and saith unto his disciples, How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God! 24 And the disciples were astonished at his words. But Jesus answereth again, and saith unto them, Children, how hard is it for them that trust in riches to enter into the kingdom of God! 25 It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.---Matthew 10:23-25

Insanity

I temporarily went insane and decided that since I worked a stretch of shifts at the hospital, I would save our laundry until I had a day off.  Typically, when I work a stretch of shifts, I make an attempt to keep up the laundry.  But, this time I had two little voices inside my head (a tall blonde and a slender brunette---you know who you are) saying something like this--- "I only do laundry one day a week...Just do it on Monday."  It sounded so simple.

The laundry was not touched (besides throwing the dirty clothes in the hampers and spot cleaning some items of clothing of the boys') from Thursday until Monday.  This is not even counted as an entire week.  On Monday, I spent the ENTIRE day doing laundry.  Many, Many loads of laundry.  I am not going to tell you how many loads but it was in the double digits. Mountains of laundry.  Sheets, blankets, towels, greasy work clothes, stained jeans, dress clothes from Thanksgiving, scrubs, scrubs, and more scrubs...never ending.

The first half of laundry.

My husband already thinks that I am insane for insisting on washing all of the bed linens once a week.  I have taken Microbiology, I know what lives in our beds.  Not to mention, two boys who sweat and drool all over their pillows and sheets. 

Monday evening when my husband was driving home from work he called me, "What did you do today?"

"Laundry," I responded.

"What else did you do?"

Sigh..."Just laundry."

So, now that I am back in my right mind, I will continue with my daily laundry routine. 

This quote is for you Monday launderers:

“I believe you should live each day as if it is your last, which is why I don't have any clean laundry, because, come on, who wants to wash clothes on the last day of their life?”- Author Unknown

"Marriage is the most expensive way for the average man to get his laundry done"-  Burt Reynolds

Mostly Boys

My entire world revolves around boy "things."  Hunting, four-wheeling, muscle cars, and so on.  Early on, I realized that I needed to Tom-boy-up or I was going to get left behind.  So, in light of this revelation, I began trying my hardest to enjoy boyish hobbies.

For our family vacation this year we went four-wheeling in northern Minnesota.  There was no shopping or doing girly things what-so-ever.  I never bothered bringing it up because I would be out voted 3 to 1.  So, each day we packed lunches and snacks and then set off on an adventure deep into national parks.  It was amazing.  We were greeted with multiple deer and birds---but much to our boys disappointment, no bears. 

Aaron waiting patiently on the 4-wheeler

Noah feeding ducks at Long Lake in Northern MN



Abram ready to go ridin'!

Even when my friends and I get together for "play dates" there is an over abundance of testosterone.  There usually are around 10 children playing together and only one of the children is a girl, little Ava.  So, with that much testosterone in a small space (and at least three over-achieving mothers) there is lots of energy, some bickering over toys, and an occasional child that gets bitten (I never thought my youngest child would turn out to be a biter---luckily that issue is resolved!)

Momma Kelly helping Carsen make a turkey out of his hand.

The girls are grossly outnumbered.

Carsen and Jack playing with cars and other boy toys.
Unfortunately, we have no girl toys.

Our cat, Snoopy Socks, had a terrible headache after all of the children left (I kid you not, when all was quiet she jumped up into "her chair" and layed down with her paws over her eyes.)

This is the epitome of boys and girls. 

 

To put the world in order, we must first put the nation in order; to put the nation in order, we must put the family in order; to put the family in order, we must cultivate our personal life; and to cultivate our personal life, we must first set our hearts right. - Isaiah (Ch. WWWVIII V.1)

Family Photo Shoot

I am not a model and have never claimed to be.  Just because I have the height of a run way model does not mean that I am graceful or elegant.  Walking in high heel shoes makes me look like I am some sort of a circus freak (but I continue purchasing high heels with the hopes of being able to walk in them; then I am sadly disappointed when I have to find different homes for the shoes because they are on the brink of causing my demise.)  In addition to being a klutz, I have a pelvis that could birth triplets.  So, all of that added up = not being photogenic.  

One of my goals every year is to get a immediate family picture.  This is something that I hope to accomplish for the rest of my life.  Someday, hopefully, our family picture will include daughter-in-laws and grandchildren.

Our family is lucky enough to have a friend who dabbles in photography.  And, she is patient enough to deal with our wild boys.  Her name is Cassie and she is a miracle worker.

So, on a bitterly cold day we bundled up in our jackets, hats, mittens and set out in an attempt to capture our family in a photo (if that is possible.)  We loaded up in a white Suburban and were off on an adventure armed with suckers (thanks to our friend) and a camera.  The wind was wicked but we were determined to get an outdoor photo on an abandoned gravel road and at my husband's family farm. 

Miraculously, Cassie was talented enough to get many wonderful photos.  When I was flipping threw over 180 pics, I had a difficult time choosing.  How do you choose?  Each photo was unique in its own way.  None of our family was ever looking in the same direction or smiling at the same time or positioned correctly.  We, including myself, were not very compliant.  Abram would not sit still and Noah had an attack of the giggles.  Eventually, I was able to narrow 188 pics down to 30 pics and then 20. 

Then it was time to photo edit them.  I touched up the green buggers, strands of snot, and fly away hairs.  Carefully, I looked at the lighting and coloring and attempted to sharpen Abram's images that were a little blurry from all of his movement.  Finally, a couple of hours later....they were complete.  Our family photos were complete.  Yes!  Press Save...Click....

Oh crap...I pressed the wrong button... Not Delete.... Oh no.

My computer would not let me retrieve them.  Why, oh why, would my computer not let me retrieve them.  I dropped my head down on the desk next to the darn computer.  Time to start over. 

I went through all of the photos again.  Photo edited again.  Took all of the buggers, strands of snot, and fly away hairs out, again. Adjusted some of the lighting and coloring, again.  Sharpened Abram's images, again.

Finally, they were complete.  It was totally worth all of the work---and extra work.  We are blessed enough to have beautiful family pics that will last us for the rest of our lives.  These pics are completely priceless to me, and they only cost me giving Cassie one of the high heeled pairs of shoes that almost killed me.

"Families are like fudge, mostly sweet with a few nuts"- Author Unknown.

Abrams Journey

Someone requested that I write a little post about my youngest son, Abram, and his journey.  I have been having a hard time with his "problems" lately. So, I agreed to do it because I think that it could help my mental health as well as meet this persons request.  So, here is a little peek into Abram's journey....

Oh, where do I begin?  Abram was born at 36 weeks in a small town hospital.  He had a few breathing issues and was then transferred to the NICU at a hospital that could better manage his breathing.  He spent 9 days at this hospital and then we transferred him to an Intensive Care Nursery that was a little closer to home.  He was diagnosed with Ehlers Donlos Syndrome shortly after his birth (but our insurance company would not pay for that diagnosis---so generically he is diagnosed with hypotonia.)  We were blessed enough to bring him home, which I will be forever thankful for.  He had a regimen of tube feedings and medications and doctor appts.  He has been through physical therapy and occupational therapy.  Within the first two years of his life he had two surgeries and was in five different hospitals (I have the grey hair to prove it.)



Abram in an Intensive Care Nursery a couple of weeks after he was born.
When he saw this pic a couple of weeks ago, he asked, "Am I dead in this picture?"




Abram at six months old, he had no muscle tone.  He was floppy like a rag doll.


He has always progressed well, very rarely regressing.  But, he will always have physical issues.  For instance, he has scoliosis (which in my opinion is due to having hypotonia) and has to where a back brace.

Abram's back brace is called a TLSO.  Lately, it is his arch nemesis.


He can run with the boys, but has a hard time keeping up, getting tired easily.  Those who are closest to him, know what he is capable of.  Our family has kept him very close, never really going to daycare or being with strangers.  So, when he started preschool he had a difficult time---emotionally as well as physically.  That was my fault, I admit it.  I should have better prepared him for this huge transition. 

First day of preschool, it was a grim day.

Parent-teacher conferences rolled around, and his teacher tip-toed around the issue of his disability.  She is an amazing teacher, and I could tell she was very nervous.  "Don't be nervous.  Just tell us what you think he needs and we will do our best to meet in the middle," I told her, my husband by my side rolling his eyes. I could tell he was thinking "Oh crap, here she goes..." He gets embarrassed when I get a little bucky with people, but I am Abram's advocate and I will do what is best for my son.  It does not matter what the neurologist thought (whom I fired) or what the geneticist thought (I also fired her) because my son is not, nor will I ever allow him to be, a science experiment.  Sitting in numerous doctors offices, having complete strangers examine and oogle over my little boy has taught me that.

Surprisingly, I really valued what the teacher thought.  The look in her eyes told me she really cares about my son.  He is not a statistic to her.  He is her preschooler and she is advocating for him.  Abram will have struggles for the rest of his life.  But, he is very fortunate to be able to do the things that he can.  He has worked very hard for his accomplishments, nothing has been handed to him.

It is easy to make a quick judgement or an unintentionally rude comment about someone who is "different."  I have learned that people do not think before speaking (example:  someone who I love dearly, told me that my son looked "retarded" when he was little---she clearly did not think prior to speaking.)  Please think of little Abram and his journey to reach four years if unkind thoughts drift into your head or out your lips about someone who is different.  Then, say a quick prayer for them, because they need all of the help that they can get. 

Noah has always helped to guide his little brother.  He is a vital part of Abram's life.

"Kindness is the language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see"---Mark Twain

Sometimes, It's the Little Things

Tuesday....well....Tuesday is typically a hectic day.  Last Tuesday was exceptionally hectic.  Between a quick trip to St.Cloud with my sister-in-law and her two-year-old, piano lessons, dinner at my moms, parent-teacher conferences, homework, bathtime, and bedtime, I was exhausted by eight o'clock. 

After my boys were snuggled in bed together (yes, they still sleep in a twin bed together---it is completely their decision) I decided to take a quick shower and then hit the hay myself.  The shower was just what I needed to relax and unwind.  I wrapped myself in my fluffy robe, towel dried my hair, and proceeded to go upstairs when something stopped me. 

Hmmm.... a peculiar light was coming from outside of our dining room window.  A light that I had never seen before.  Could it be...???

Then I knew and I was filled with excitement.  You see, for as long as I can remember, I have wanted Christmas lights on our house.  My father said that we "could not afford the lights and the extra electricity," so I admired the neighbors Christmas lights.  We used to drive around our small town and admire everyone elses Christmas lights.

When Aaron and I first moved into our house, I wanted Christmas lights.  My husband said the same thing that my father said and threw in some B.S. about "loving mother earth" (so says my die-hard Republican husband.) 

So, on Tuesday, when I saw the light shining in our dining room window my heart filled with excitement.  "Christmas lights," I whispered to myself and ran out to the porch.  I found my husband quietly hanging the simple, white lights on our porch with care, hoping to surprise me.

Notice the butt cleavage---Yes this is the man I fell madly in love with

Sometimes, it is the little things that matter.  The simple "I love you" from my children.  The "Thank you" from family and friends.  My husband holding my hand when we are going somewhere.  Individually wrapped snacks that make life a little easier.  Toilet paper, what would we do without toilet paper, need I say more?  And, of course, a surprise from my husband that fulfilled one of my life's dreams.

"It is always the simple things that change our lives.  And these things never happen when you are looking for them to happen.  Life will reveal answers at the pace life wishes to do so.  You feel like running, but life is on a stroll.  This is how God does things."--Donald Miller



Noah's Secret

(This was taken off of my blog by accident, so I am re-adding it:)

As I am busy around the house doing all sorts of mommy things, I feel a presence by my side.  It is Noah.  My dear sweet child.  Right away, I notice that he has a certain glimmer in his eye.  I can't quite put my finger on it, but it is definitely there.  Something has changed with him. 

"We need to practice piano," I say as I am trying to figure out what is different about him.

"Ok," and we head off to the family room. 

Sitting on the couch listening to him play piano is one of my favorite things to do.  Nothing tops that, nothing.  It is like the angels are singing from heaven above.  He has accomplished so much in the last year and grown so much as a person, it is truly amazing. 

After he finishes playing his last song on the piano, he plops down next to me on the couch.  Fidgeting his fingers he hesitantly says, "Mom, can I tell you a secret?" 

"Of course, what is it?"

"Well, you can't tell anyone.  But.... I am in love.  Really in love.  Like...boyfriend-girlfriend in love..."

OMG, what do I say?  What do I do?  In a way I am excited for him, that he can experience love.  That he cares so much for this girl (who is in his class---he has loved her since preschool) that he can say he loves her.  A first love is always exciting, right?  But, on the other hand, he is ONLY EIGHT YEARS OLD!  He is not allowed to date until he is at least thirty.  What does a mom do?

So, do we try to guide him through this or do we squash it like a hairy spider?  Well, I decided to try to help guide him through this.  We have not been through the birds and bees yet, and I do not want to go there today (that is a whole different blog.)  Lucky for me, the phone rang and it was my mother-in-law.  She loves to talk on the phone, so we talked for about a half an hour.  By the time I hung up the phone, Noah had lost interest in our previous conversation. 

I have never brought up the "I am in love subject" again, but I know that it will surface sooner or later. 

A picture Noah drew of himself and his first love.

In addition, he swore me to secrecy.  We pinky swore that I would not tell anyone.  Hopefully he will not find out about my blog until he gets older- so if anyone reads this, pretty please do not say anything to Noah.

Goodbye, My Love

Today, I had to say goodbye to something that was very close to me.  Something that cuddled with my husband and I during late night movies.  She has heard our laughter and felt our tears.  She has endured baby spit-up and poop, dog and cat puke, and an occasional food splatter.  But, unfortunately, her presence in our bedroom has come to an end.  I can no longer suffer through mending holes and attempting to take out stains and vacuuming up feathers.  Our 10 year relationship has, regretfully, come to an abrupt end. 

And so today, I say good bye to a loving friend- my beautiful, light green, down blanket. She has laid on our bed with grace.  Countless forts have been made using her.  She has been drug through out the house, stepped on, slid down the stairs on, and been washed at least once a week for the last 10 years.  Many memories are attached to her, so it is difficult to say goodbye.  She has served us well, but unfortunately, can no longer be repaired. 

Takin' a Snooze with My Blanket

My husband was very sceptical about her new microfiber, down, ivory replacement (by the way- it was on sale at Herbergers.) 

"It feels too light," he tells me with a scowl. 

"Oh, honey, just sleep with it for the night and let me know what you think in the morning," I say with a smile. 

The next morning, he was up hours before daylight and out hunting with his friends.  I made the bed with care, as I do every other morning.  But, today was different.  I did not have my green blanket counterpart to place on the bed.

Instead, her replacement was staring at me, longing to be folded.   So, I gingerly worked with her, folding and re-folding her.  But she never quite fit, not like her predecessor.  "Hmmm..." After several attempts at folding, I finally figured out the way she fits perfectly at the end of our bed.  And, she was elegant and beautiful.

Once again, Thank you to my boys for taking a pic of me barely awake, with no make up on...

I know better than to call my husband (even though my fingers were itching) to see how he liked the new blanket, so I impatiently patiently waited for him to call me- even though I was dyeing to know.  Finally, mid-morning my cell phone rang.  I did not care about who shot what, tracking blood trails, or the mondo buck that so-and-so missed.  All I wanted to know was how he liked our new bed partner.  "Ummm...I think I like this one better..." was all he could say with his macho-man-hunting-friends so near.  But I knew he loved her just as much as I did!

So, I say good bye to my old down blanket as I throw her into the dumpster.  SO many memories are attached to her.  But, I am excited to curl up with my husband tonight with our new blanket and make new memories;)

Do or Die

A couple of weeks ago, there were several days that were very cold, very windy, and very rainy.  Well, to any mom that has children, these days are do or die.  You either are constantly doing activities and reading and painting and what every else you can pull out of thin air, or your home is a sinking ship.  And you, as a mom, may be the first one to drown.

So, what does a mom do when her crew cries mutany?  What does she do when her authority is being questioned and her ship is being taken over by a four year old and an eight year old?  What does she do when she is doing the back float and sinking fast?

Well, this mom was gasping for air and as a last resort decided to turn her camera over to her children (hopefully they would break it and we could buy a nicer one- wishful thinking...)  And this is what her children (or Abram) came up with:



Abram loves taking pics of himself and then looking at them.



He took many pics like this.  And, unfortunately, my camera is still intact and in working order.  It gave the boys something fun (and grown up) to do for long enough for me to mend our ship and get us back on track.

"It's not only children who grow.  Parents do too.  As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours.  I can't tell my children to reach for the sun.  All I can do is reach for it, myself."  ~Joyce Maynard

Today

Today, as I sit in a balcony at a church that is very foreign to me, I look around at all of the people dressed in black and gray.  The never ending streams of questions from my boys continues on and on "...is David still sick...why is he in that bed...why do we bury people in the ground...what is heaven...where is God"...and on and on... 

Today, I watched as young mothers struggled to sooth their fussy babies, as their other children pulled relentlessly at their skirts. Meanwhile, their husbands stared mindlessly at the elder preaching at the front of the church. 

Today, as the minister droned on and on about "...repent if you want to join God in the Kingdom of Heaven...be baptized if you want to go to Heaven..." I watched my good friend, a new widow, wrap her arms around her two daughters, fruitlessly trying to comfort their grief.  As their father lay in a casket adorned with flowers at the front of the church, tears flooded the sanctuary.  Sobs could be heard in the back of the balcony.  This is only the beginning of my friends sorrow. She has been trying, with no avail, to find meaning behind her husband being taken from this world so suddenly and leaving her with nothing. 

For two hours I sat and patiently listened with my little family.  Incredibly, the boys sat and were very patient too.  I searched for some sort of comfort among the minister's words, something that would make sense to me.  Words that I could relate too.  But sadly, I found none. 

Today, I crossed my legs in my gray trousers and found that I was literally the only woman in the church who had pants on. Every one else wore skirts or dresses.  Every one's hair was up and their heads were covered.  As my husband put his arm around me and whispered gently into my ear, "I appreciate you," I found that under his suit, he was the ONLY man in the church who wore a colored dress shirt. Every one else wore black suits with white shirts and black ties.  I guess we missed the memo on the dress code (but he still looked HOT.) 

Today, as Aaron's distant relatives shook our hands and greeted us with never ending kindness to this strange church, I realize that the sense of community this church has is truly what I am looking for.  If only they had a different belief system, I would actually consider being a part of this church.  My husband and I watched how the hundreds of church members rally around their beloved sister, stricken with grief, coming to her aid with anything she needs.  And they will continue to do so in the years to come.  We watched how grown men shed tears for the loss of their brother, and we saw the elder wipe his own tears in front of everyone at the church.

So, today I feel torn.  With a heavy heart we must say good-bye to a good friend.  We must teach our children to also say good-bye (Abram stood on the pew and shouted "Good bye" and waved from the balcony in front of everyone- that was embarrassing.)  Words cannot express the sorrow that we feel for their family or the happiness that we feel for our friend to have such an awesome church community.


Dave and Janet's Ducks, Our boys loved the ducks (Noah took this photo)
David was found dead in their barn, having reached the age of 50.















"Live as if you were to die tomorrow.  Learn as if you were to live forever,"  -Ghandi