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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