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