Reflections

2010.  In this present moment, I'm fighting to find time to reflect on this year.  An 8 month old baby is wrestling with her nap that she doesn't see as necessary today, and two preschool boys are battling each other in their rest time that they would also endorse as unnecessary.  This is my loud reflection time. 

Things that I have learned this year:

• I'm in control of nothing.  At all.  Literally nothing. 
• Three kids are a lot of kids. 
• It's better to have stuff you are indifferent about as compared to stuff you love.  Both get colored with blue marker, but your response is remarkably different. 
• A stance of anything other than humility is arrogance in essentially all categories. 
• It is completely possible to work all day long without a break and accomplish nothing.
• Receiving help is much better than not receiving help. 
• I think I'm my best person when I'm financially broke.  (I'm so not a fan of this fact.)
• I can change a diaper while gagging and continue on. 
• I can, will and have survived a two year old throwing a tantrum in a grocery store while several people walk by and give very poor parenting advice without punching anybody. 
• Church is my favorite place.
• Being a grown up is even more lame than I ever imagined. 
• Reconciliation is so much more amazing than I ever imagined.
• Marriage is more about sanctification and less about being right. 
• Screaming in stereo does not have to break me. 
• 5 minutes of believing that my son is dying does not have to break me.
• Jesus loves me, this I know...for the Bible told me so.
• It's not really that great of an idea to give your children a pretend hammer for Christmas. 

So here's to 2010.  So glad it's over, but in all likelihood my life will likely be divided by this year - before 2010 and after 2010.  I'm pretty sure that if I sat next to the person I was on January 1st 2010, we wouldn't really even recognize each other.  We don't have much in common anymore.  I'm really okay with that though.  I still have her bills, her reputation, her stuff, and her history...but that's what 2011 is for. 

Peace out 2010. 

Toothbrushes, Underwear and Socks, Oh My!

I'm convinced that toys are created to ruin the hopes and dreams of parents.  And when I say "convinced", what I really mean is that I just thought of that, and it sounds right.  Then I wrote it, and convinced myself.  Must be true. 

In my trip from my bedroom to the couch that I'm sitting on, I stumbled on no less than 3 toys, briefly saw my life flash before my eyes when I got my shoelace caught on the baby gate, and stepped on the arm of a (likely very depressed) superman figure who has been dismembered.  This wonderful piece of plastic was perfectly positioned so that it felt like I was being stabbed.  I don't like that feeling. 

What's more, toys teach kids to be never-ending bottomless pits of want.  Once they have it, they don't want it anymore.  What they have accumulates and slowly takes over the home.  Of our modest home with 5 human souls, 3 kitty souls and 1 dog soul, at least 500 sq ft is devoted to toys.

I know what you are thinking.  Throw it out/donate it/figure it out and stop whining.  Welcome to one of the many debates of the Garlands.  It goes something like this:

Chris: Let's get a garbage bag and toss it all out.
Jess:  Dude.  Haven't you ever seen Toy Story?
Chris: You have got to be kidding me.
Jess: Sadly, I'm not.  What if that dismembered Superman is really sad?
Chris: He isn't.
Jess: What if?
Chris: He isn't.
Jess: Well what if a kid somewhere out there really wants to have this toy?
Chris: He doesn't.  Nobody wants to play with a toy that has no arms, no legs and no head. 
Jess: But I have a bag full of heads, bodies, legs and arms.  I could put them back together.
Chris: No.  That would take forever. 
Jess: Toy Story, honey.  Toy Story. 
Chris: Seriously?
Jess:  And garbage dumps full of plastic.  And polar bears. 
Chis:  deep sigh. Alright.
Jess:  As soon as (fill in the task here) is done, I'm gonna do it. 

Twelve months later...nothing.  Nada.  The days blur together, the kids scream in stereo, I spend most of the time drinking coffee and dreaming of Maui.  Dismembered Batman lives on. 

We celebrated Christmas with my mom this week.  (Hi Mom!)  She was dead set on bringing practical gifts for the boys, and brought an outfit for each kid, 10 pairs of matching socks each, underwear, several toothbrushes and toothpaste for the kids.  As a parent, I was overjoyed, if not giddy.  However, I watched my boys closely...ready to pounce on the first child to show dissatisfaction.  She was warned by others that the kids would be deeply disappointed. 

Never happened.  Gifts are gifts.

My boys have obsessed over their toothbrushes.  They love their clothes.  They danced around all morning in their new underwear.  One thing is for sure.  Not a single one of those underwear will be dismembered and forgotten.  Weird to consider, but true nonetheless. 

Maybe my number one assumption should be that children (especially preschoolers) enjoy excitement.  You get excited about broccoli?  Eyes light up.  You get excited about cake?  Eyes light up.  You try to make them happy with what they identify as making them happy?  You follow the trail of never ending distraction.  You get excited about underwear and toothbrushes?  Suddenly, nothing exists on this world that surpasses the desire and delight with toothbrushes.

Chase actually slept with his new toothbrush.  I'm not kidding.

Dear Toys R Us.  I want my thousands of dollars over the course of 4 years back.  I should have gone outside, grabbed a couple of rocks and called them "Awesome 1" and "Awesome 2".

Broken Pitcher

Today, my dear sweet Adelai had a cold.  The day finally arrived where she realized the bulb syringe is not a chew toy.  (The bulb syringe is the booger sucker thing to those who don't know...it goes straight up the nose and sucks out the business.)  Sometimes I've wondered if the bulb syringe is a better way to go as compared to blowing your nose, but ultimately all you have to do is watch the startled look on a child to know that obviously blowing your nose is preferable. 

She has always loved to chew the bulb syringe on her teeth.  It must do something lovely...it's even motivated her to lunge from a seated position into a crawling position.  Why would Adelai cuddle a stuffed animal when she could love the bulb syringe?  She fits in this family just fine. 

So.  Welcome to reality, my dear daughter.  She's playing sweetly with her toys and struggling to breath through her nose as I prepare the towel and wash the syringe.  She has startled to babble and I can hear her talking to herself as I'm running her beloved chew toy under the warm water.  I know I'm about to break her heart.  I don't like that, but what else can I do?  I'm her mommy.  Mommy's get involved when boogers are present.  She smiles a giant smile as I enter the room, revealing two budding teeth on her lower gums.  She loves me.  I really love her too.

I pick her up and she's excited.  I lay her down on the couch and she's making eye contact and cooing.  She's also blowing snot bubbles.  The mission must continue on.  I approach with the syringe, but at 7.5 months old, she's a squirmer.  I can't get it in her nostril, so we have to switch to more restrictive measures.  I hate this.  But I love her.

I reposition so that I can hold her between my legs and keep her head from moving.  (Long legs come in handy.  Wish I could have told my awkward 13 year old self that?) She starts to look a little frantic as I put the syringe into her nose. The suction goes and I can tell that for a moment, she thought something really bad was happening to her.  She doesn't cry (because it's Adelai and she doesn't do that.)  She makes eye contact now, and she looks startled, frantic, confused, scared. I am successful with the first suction and one of her nostrils is now clear.  However, now she knows what is coming again.

She's moving more.  I have to hold her with more grip.  She is now essentially immobile so that I don't poke her in the eye and really harm her.  Here is her mommy, the one who loves her the most in this world, holding her most treasured toy and she's afraid.  I look at her and say "Adelai.  I love you.  I know you're scared, but I would never hurt you honey.  This will help you, even though it's scary.  Don't be afraid.  Trust me."

Then a small voice said "I've waited for so long....that you would know that from me, Jessica."

The way God uses these children to mold me every day is breathtaking.  It literally takes the air away from me.  He refines my heart so gently, but with such a firmness.  Like big strong hands taking clay and moving it intentionally, but with such love for the art that it is becoming.

I'm a slab of rough, unworthy clay that looks out of place and crusty.  And there was some time where I thought I was already art, but with a missing piece.  Like a pitcher that couldn't hold water and it ran everywhere and I just pretended that I wasn't trying to be a pitcher anyway.  So there. 

But now I'm held in big strong hands.  It's much better here. 

Merry Christmas.  The Garlands love you. 

Oasis

Chris and I are approaching seven years of marriage in January.  We've had some obvious blessings over the years.  The list is quite normal...including the usual like the kids (which feels like a blessing about 57% of the time), housing, employment, and each other.  We've also had some good pets.  And we've only lit the house on fire once (*we* meaning...a certain husband of mine.  He'll quickly point out that one time I burned bacon for so long on the stove that it disintegrated into nothing and filled the house with smoke, all because I was watching an episode of Cribs on MTV.  However, I'll counterpoint with the fact that there were certainly no flames.  He made flames with a car seat and a stove.  Long story.)  We've also maintained our health and have been blessed with healthy children. (In all seriousness, I do not take an ounce of that for granted.  Healthy children are miraculous.) 

We've seen the Seahawks go to the Superbowl.  I think Chris would include that.  (Don't talk to him about that though, because he'll go on and on and on about some bad call or whatever.  I've further been blessed with the ability to nod and tune out this tirade.  See?  The blessings rain down.)

All this is well and good, but 2010 has really brought an unexpected blessing to the Garland family in the form of Oasis Community Church.  I would be remiss to call this blog a place to discuss our blessings without referencing our church. 

It struck me recently that we began regularly attending Oasis just 12 months ago, and now Chris and I can't really imagine our lives without the church body.  I've never belonged to a church, so I had no idea what I was missing.  Given the mix of Chris and I, the joining of the Garlands to a church body would prove to be very difficult.  Chris likes Sunday football and small talk.  I hate crowds, and can barely manage small talk before getting to the grit of stuff, which freaks people out.  Consequently, I hover around groups of people and struggle to join.  Chris jumps head in, but quickly departs to look at the ESPN website or something.  And for whatever reason, I have an aversion (or shall I say, I had an aversion) to being recognized.  As a mental health counselor, you quickly learn that being recognized in public is not really all that wonderful.  We've tried to attend church over the years, but they were either too big, too small, too boring, too old, too young, too religious...blah blah blah.  I remember saying out loud to Chris one day that for us to find a church, somebody is going to have to hunt us down and seek us out.  Never happened.  Perfect excuse.  And also, as a side note, if anyone actually did try to hunt us down, I'm sure we would have freaked out and said they were trying too hard.  (*we* meaning me.  I'm difficult like that?  Chris likes everyone.)

Then Oasis happened to us.  They didn't hunt, but they sort of noticed us standing on the outskirt of the congregation and started to circle around us.  Super slow, so as not to startle us (meaning me).  They invited Chris to play sports (the perfect invitation).  They nonchalantly invited us to community group, as if it wasn't anything big.  They dedicated our boys when we weren't all the way dedicated ourselves. They accepted me with open arms when I fell apart after Justin's seizure.  They taught me how to pray.  They brought us meals in support of Adelai's birth (still as mostly strangers, mind you).  They were consistently available and pretty awesome.  And, they let me cry whenever I want without pointing out how awkward it is, even when I'm reading scripture in front of 150+ people.  That's nice. 

Chris and I have lived in this town for 7 years and yet we've never really considered it home.  We've always wanted to return to the Seattle area, yet circumstance after circumstance has made it impossible to go.  It was never bad stuff that kept us here, but rather opportunity after opportunity after opportunity.  We couldn't really ever say no...but it felt like an island.  Chris and I against the world without ever asking for help because really, there wasn't anyone lining up to offer it.  After joining Oasis, I honestly think this is the first time I feel like we are home.  Suddenly there is a whole host of people lining up, and they are all pretty amazing.  In so many ways, I think God kept us here knowing full well that we wouldn't find Him unless we stayed.

And the Seahawks get DVR'd.  Seriously. 

This is the first Christmas that Chris and I are planning our entire holiday around the Christmas Eve service. 
We are in a good place.  We're starting new traditions, banishing old ones and it's good.  Really good.

Adelai

Every time I start to write an entry about our little girl, I can never finish it.  It's not that there is nothing to report.  She is growing, she is beautiful, she is delightful, she is amazing.  I guess I probably stop myself because I'm afraid that if I really wrote about this adorable little girl, it might sound like I love her the best. 

Mommy guilt is a tough one sometimes.  If I post something about the joy that is Adelai, you'll be able to scroll through this blog and see that I write all the time about crazy Justin and sensitive Chase, but you'll see me gush about this girl and I can barely contain myself.  I'll just keep going and going.  And going.  She is seriously wonderful.

I am realistic though.  I've been around a few blocks as a mother, so I know that realistically she just hasn't developed the ability to voice herself.  Therefore, she's untainted.  She has plenty of years to join the ranks of her brothers and I'll be ready.  Maybe.  Okay, it'll take me off guard.  But for now, here is a little information on this lovely girl.

Adelai (pronounced Ad-duh-lye...rhymes with pie...for the 99% of the world that can't pronounce her name) is a girl.  I know right?  Who knew the Garlands could have one of those?  Did you know they are different than boys?  I think God gave her to me because he saw my life and said "Dude.  This is hysterical, but it's time to give this girl a break."  Adelai is patient.  She can wait a good 5 to 10 minutes for whatever she needs.  It's as if she came into the home and spoke Chinese and the rest of us just don't get it.  Patient?  What the heck?  Is there something wrong with her?  Why isn't she crying? 

Not only is she a girl and patient (and yes, Chris, you can have both- I just don't), but she is mostly content with whatever.  The boys came out and were pretty much on the move.  Both sat up by their 6 month check up, both were crawling by 9 months (Justin was actually running at 9 months), and Chase was walking at 11 months.  I knew Justin was way early, but I thought that was pretty much normal.  Adelai, on the other hand can't be bothered with physical stuff.  She is 7 months old and I'm still trying to encourage her to sit up.  She falls often, and it's a bother to try and get her interested in anything besides people.  She loves to watch her brothers and she's pretty happy with constant eye contact. 

But if you can't do that, it's okay.  Just whenever you return, she'll be delighted. 

It's almost creepy. 

What else can I say?  She kinda likes food, she loves to cuddle and she has an enormous rear end.  For the record, I know that is thoroughly inappropriate, but seriously if you know anything about our boys, you know that having junk in the truck region is unheard of.  I wonder if she is really my kid?

She loves to sleep and she loves her feet.  I think that covers it. 

She's a bright warm light in my life, and I'm just overjoyed that I get to be her mommy.  I hope I do her justice.  I'm a little worried that we're going to struggle, mostly because she seems to be my exact opposite and I think maybe I should be the student in this situation...but nevertheless, being on the other side of a mother-daughter relationship feels full circle.  Before she was born, I didn't really think I was missing anything.  I think it was about 4 seconds after her birth that I realized exactly what I had gained.  It's safe to say that I'm a huge fan of Miss Adelai Makena. 



A Letter to the American Culture...from a ticked off Mom

Dear American Culture,

I fell for you last Christmas.  I thought it was a deep profound love.  Your commercials, the way you enticed my child to want every single toy made...I bought it hook, line and sinker.  Last year, Chase wanted "a big green rocket".  This, of course, was a figment of his imagination.  I spent 60 days searching every story and online retailer before finally finding it.  I remember distinctly thinking that this gift would make my child "happy", the ultimate joy of a parent. 

And Santa Clause....boy, does Chase adore Santa Clause.  And I admit, I used Santa Clause to get Chase to behave and follow the rules for 30 straight days.  It was AMAZING.  The answer to all my problems.  I filled two separate carts with presents and stood proudly at the check out at Toys R Us with proof that I loved my kid.  I'm sure that you were proud.  I did it right, by your standards. 

Low and behold, I...or should I say we...were right! Chase was happy.  For about 3 days, Chase was delighted.  He played with that green rocket and was seriously grateful.  But then more commercials came on, and I soon began hearing "Mom! I want that for Christmas."  And the green rocket started to get piled under a bunch of other toys.  Soon enough, the green rocket lost it's luster.  I think it's now buried under a box of other forgotten toys.  And now I have a bunch of broken toys in a playroom that don't speak much to my love for my child.  I find myself rather annoyed by that.  I was snookered.  (Is that a word?)

And now I just want to tell you that I think maybe it was just a crush.  And I'm sort of over it.  I'm not falling for it this year, much to the future (and brief) dismay of my children.  I refuse to buy in to the commercialized view of this holiday.  I detest the idea that you have placed a face of an old man who brings presents to the deserving kids all over the place.  I detest the fact that my children recognize this face as an image that inspires them to think that they might wake up in a few weeks to a mountain of gifts. 

And more than anything, it deeply breaks my heart that I asked Chase yesterday about what he knew about Santa, and he referenced praying to him about the toys he wanted.  I think there is something in the 10 commandments that is getting confused here.  I think as a mother, I dropped a ball that I didn't even know I was holding back then.  I am responsible for this.  But so are you.  Do we really have to write letters to a pretend person who will deliver all that we want, but nothing that we need?  What's with the absolute glee that my children get from seeing that guy? Who says we don't have "golden calfs" anymore?  Sure, it's possible to not make that guy a big deal.  My point is this...really, I took the lead from culture and not from truth. 

I seriously messed this up.  And to backtrack with a 4 year old who has an excellent memory is eventually going to have to come to a head, wherein I face up to my child as a fibber.  So I'm going to navigate this muddy water with a heavy heart because I know the truth now.  Will they have presents on Christmas?  Yes.  Will they have something from Santa?  I don't know.  But will they live their childhood with the expectation that this holiday is a commercialized festival of greed and consumerism?  Not on my watch. 

Or at least, not anymore.

My bad.  And your bad. 

And now, if you'll excuse me, my sons are jumping in the crib with the baby.  I gotta run.  But for the record, we are officially broken up.

Sincerely,

J. Garland
Consumer in Recovery

The Faith of a Child

My son Chase....to say that he has an enormous heart would be an understatement.  He loves school and boy, does this child love church.  His understanding of God is simple and solid. God made me?  Cool.  What are we having for lunch?

In adult land, that would be an example of potentially not hearing the message, or maybe even brushing you off.  However, this child literally accepts it as it is.  God made me.  Check.  Next question.  What's my next meal?  Oh? God is providing it?  That's nice of Him.  What is it?  The reason I know he is solid in this is that the very next day, he says "What did God provide for my lunch today, Mom?"  (This was a time when I was muttering under my breath that nobody in this house brings their dishes to the sink, and this apparently was enough to tick me off.  Redirection from a 4 year old is always humbling.)

A few months ago, as he and I finished a Bible story, I told him about asking Jesus into his heart and the idea that when he was ready, then God would be with him forever in his heart.  Chase wanted to do it.  So, he prayed for Jesus to come into his heart.  It brought tears to my eyes, but as I'm always the skeptic, I anticipated we would have this discussion again and again until he remembered.  My adult brain ruins a lot of things. 

This week I drove Chase to school.  We talked about what he learned at church on Sunday, and he then said, very matter of factly "Mom.  Guess what?  (Insert BFF's name from preschool here) said there is no God."  I think I actually prayed in that moment something very crass, like "Holy crap, God.  I am not ready."  The Spirit is still working on me, if you can't tell. 

So I responded "What do you think about that, Chase?"  And Chase looked at me and said "I'm sad for him.  I told him that there is a God, but he said no."  So as an adult, I think this is my time to turn, look the child in the eye and say firmly "Chase.  I know with all my heart that there is a God and He loves you. "  Chase looks back at me, and says, as if he can't believe I even needed to say this...."Mom, I know.  Remember in the playroom when I said that prayer?  He's in my heart.  Remember mom?"  

So now I'm all worried that he's running around preschool yelling at little kids that God exists.  So I say "Chase, even if (insert BFF's name here) doesn't believe in God, we are always kind and love people regardless. Right?"  Again, Chase looks at me as if I just don't understand.  "Yes, mom.  I'm not angry at him.  Just sad.  But we still play on the swing.  Today we are going to play in the shop area.  Where do birds sleep at?  Where do bears sleep?  Do they have blankets or does the fur keep them warm?  Birds don't have fur.  They have feathers."   I exhale and feel ridiculous.  "Yep, they do have feathers." 

I feel blessed beyond words to see faith develop in children.  And when I say "develop", this is really just inaccurate.  My own faith is developing because while a child just takes it as it is, I have questions that somebody has to answer.  Anxiety.  Fear.  Pessimism.  Anger.  Stupidity.  It all gets in the way.  Chase, on the other hand just blows me away every time.  Chase has much to teach me.

Luke 18:15-17: People were also bringing babies to Jesus for him to place his hands on them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. ¹⁶ But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. ¹⁷ Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

On Blessings...

I've been thinking a great deal about the title of this blog...on the idea that this would be a place that I would talk about all the blessings in our life.  And yet, I'm drawn to writing about how my kids draw with markers on themselves, flush my coat down the toilet, lock themselves in the bathroom, etc.

(For the record, this all occurred within the last 48 hours.  But I digress.)

This all comes to mind because I heard about a woman who was in a car accident and lost all three of her children, under the age of 5 years old (on Oprah, naturally).  She spoke about how it was so horrible to come home to the quiet space of her house full of toys...how she couldn't stand to hear children playing because of the sheer amount of grief....how she was shaken to the core with respect to her identity and her purpose. 

I also know that women out there look at this time in their life and miss it.  I know I will miss this.  I know that I will look back at this craziness and think that this span of time was one of the highlights of my life.  It's interesting to me that with great blessings comes great responsibility.  The longer I focus on the responsibility, the more I lose the blessing part.  I hate that.  I've also been thinking a lot about the idea that motherhood forms women over time, and thinking about all the great women I know who have come out the other side with patience, a serving attitude, the knowledge that sacrifice is just the start of love, and the natural perspective of selflessness. 

I think my damage at this point is that I'm still self-centered, focused on how my needs are second, and wishing that people would buy me stuff.  Lots of stuff.  In honor of my selflessness.  With a plaque.  And possibly a song about my awesome humility.   

See, I have a ways to go. 

Last week, Justin started preschool.  The first day went great and the second day he had a lot of trouble with me leaving.  He snuggled up on my lap, buried his head into my shirt, and cried "mommy, please don't go."  This in turn made me cry, and ultimately my two year old and I sat in the middle of his classroom and sobbed. (Super embarrassing, but beautiful all the same.)  I know there will be a time when I wish more than anything that he would say "mommy, please don't go."  I am so grateful to be a mommy and if, by the end of their time in my home, every piece of furniture is colored, the toilet is forever broken and there isn't a single doorknob in the house, I pray that I will remain grateful and focused.  And sane.  And sober. 

FAQ

Some frequently asked questions that I have been confronted with, since having our third child.  Please read, and stop asking me.  (just kidding, every time somebody asks me these questions, I have the opportunity to respond with a new smart-alec answer.  This gives me immense joy. As you were.)

Q: "You know how that happens (referring to getting pregnant), right?"
A: Yes.  For the love, yes.  Please stop making uncomfortable references about S-E-X to me.  I've noticed the pattern.  I was known to get distracted every once and awhile in biology class (alright, daily...), but I have figured that out.  And no, it's not cool to make my face turn bright red.  Stop it.  

Q: "Are you going to have anymore kids?  You've gotta be done. "
A: Nosy, nosy bastards.  We think we are done, but we've recently become acutely aware that we are not in charge of our lives.  Therefore, we're just along for the ride.  We have not closed the door, but if we had another child, he or she would have to sleep outside because we are out of space....both literally and figuratively. (And yes, I realize that doesn't make sense....but what I really mean is that there is no space in my brain left for intelligence, and that seemed to communicate that quite nicely.)

Q: "Why do you continuously talk about fecal stuff, vomit and potty training?  That is so nasty."
A: I know, right?  The answer to this is actually very simple.  It's because when you become a mother, it turns out that you actually don't morph into a crazy weird person, like it seems.  I'm the same girl I've always been...I just have a bunch of small persons looking at me when they have a bowel movement like I'm supposed to do something about it.  It's as odd to me today as it was 4 years ago.  When I'm wiping a baby down from head to toe because her diaper did not meet expectations, I must speak about it.  I have a feeling that you would too.  Unfortunately, it happens to me ALL THE TIME.  I actually contain myself 98% of the time.  You are welcome. 

Q: "Aren't you a mental health counselor for kids?  Why is that kid throwing a tantrum on the floor of the supermarket?"
A: Yep, I am.  I've actually had the audacity to coach people on parenting.  That's hysterical.  In my defense, I did it before I had three kids, when I actually had some sort of method to the madness.  I was a complete idiot.  It turns out that being a parenting coach only helps you know exactly when you did something wrong.  My kid is throwing a tantrum because he thinks grocery stores are only for chocolate milk and I just told him we weren't buying any.  He likes to communicate by throwing his body on the floor to see if I'll bend.  It's like playing chicken.  Don't worry, I'm not bending.  Unfortunately for him, I'm not easily embarrassed in front of strangers.  He'll stop screaming eventually. 

Q: Did you mean to have them so close in age?
A: When Chris and I first started talking about kids, we wanted three children, 2 years apart.  We even talked about a plan for when to have them.  However, after we had the first child, I thought "Oh man.  I'm never doing that ever again.  That was horrible."  Turns out we had three children, 2 years apart, exactly as we had planned.  I'm not sure how that happened.  Wait...don't ask me if I know how it happens.  See the first question. 

Q: Why do you look all weird and unstable?
A:  Okay, in all honesty nobody ever asks this question out loud.  However, I wanted to address it because it's true.  There are a couple compounding factors here.  First off, recently I've been showing signs of an allergy and I don't actually have time to figure out what it is.  I never thought I'd get to this point, but I literally don't have enough time to figure out what is wrong with me.  So I have allergies, and it's irrelevant in my life.  Second, I almost always am loading kids into the car in my pajamas.  I don't know how this happens to me...it's one of the reasons that I'm always late.  We are leaving the house, I look down and realize that I forgot to get myself ready.  I run back in the house and throw myself together.  In general, "throwing myself together" almost always results in looking unstable.  The red, itchy eyes aren't really helping that.  And thirdly, essentially what you see is what you get.  Weird and unstable. 

Q: Do you like staying home with them?

A: Yes.  No.  Yes I do.  Seriously, no.  Wait, yes.  Ughhh.  First off, I work two days a week, so I have a break.  But generally, yes I love staying with them.  They drive me crazy, and some days I wish I could strike the word "mommy" from the English language before I have a breakdown.  I think that maybe if I had a crafty side to me, or if I possibly could cook anything besides a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, life might be really cool staying home.  It's really tough with this age combination.  It's the days that I go to work that put it all in perspective.  Tonight, I came home to the biggest smile on a two year old I have ever seen.  He was thrilled to see me....not only because I had been gone all day long, but because I'm his person....the person that can't wait to listen to him breath.  The person that is fascinated by his singing....the person who is equally heartbroken when he can't find his penguin and who will listen to his rambling for hours on end.  I'm the person who hears his prayers to God as he thanks Him for the kitchen magnet, the dog and his sippy cup.  I'm the person that gets to practice prayers with him and dance to 80s music with him as he does "summer rolls" (aka somersaults).  I'm the one that can eliminate nightmare terror with one hug. I'm the one that knows that he can jump from the window sill to the couch to the coffee table to the ground without pausing.  I don't like a lot of stuff, but it's worth it when they have my fingerprint all over them.  I'm a fan of that. 

The Doctor's Visit from H-E-Double Hockey Stick.

Today I took a 6-month-old, a 2-year-old and a 4-year-old to get the flu shot.  I do this sometimes.  Occasionally, I get overly confident that I've somehow mastered the combo, and I take on something totally ridiculous....like three flu shots on my own. 

Right off the bat, I chickened out.  I postponed Adelai's shot until tomorrow's check up and convinced myself that giving a 6-month-old 4 shots instead of 3 shots on the same day would be better.  I then called Chris and begged him to meet me at the doctor's office.  He was busy, but threw out a "maybe I'll meet you there."  That was enough to give me courage.  (He never showed....I guess bringing home money or whatever is important.  FYI, at the doctor's office, I could've cared less if he came home with a million bucks today.  I still would have asked him to help.  I like instant gratification, if you haven't noticed.)

So, we went.  During this entire story, picture me holding a happy baby in my arms, who is delighted until I lay her down in her car seat.  This ticks her off immensely and she screams, which makes my irritation level skyrocket immediately.  Therefore, she is in my arms the entire time.  Because that's apparently how God designed it.  (Love that guy, but seriously?)

The first hurdle a mother of three faces is getting the children into the building without one of them getting run over by a SUV in the parking lot.  Who gets out first?  How do you make them follow the rules while you are getting the baby out of the car?  How do you carry your thermos of vodka without spilling it on the baby?  (Ha ha, just kidding.  That totally was a joke.  Please don't call DHS.  I don't even drink.)

I instructed them with my kindest firm voice to go stand by the wall without moving.  The kicker?  They actually did it.  This caught me off guard.  In fact, I had to stare at them for awhile, trying to anticipate their next move.  "Chase and Justin?  You are....standing by the wall.  Okay...that's umm....that's good guys.  Thanks? I mean, you are kinda creeping me out and stuff...but good job!"  So we sign in, they run all around screaming with joy, people are staring and judging, etc.  I don't care though, folks.  I showered, kids are alive, nobody smells, things are going great. 

They run circles around the waiting area.  More judging, more staring, whatever.  They scream at the fish in the waiting area, pounding the glass right under the sign that says "Please be quiet and don't pound the glass." We get to the room, and we find out that both kids are able to get the flu mist.  Whaaaaaaaaaaat?  Did I actually just catch a break?  Records are checked, everything looks good, and the lady comes into the room with the mist.  Justin picks this moment to announce that he has to potty.  Chase chimes in.  They both do the "I have to pee immediately dance".  Sure, guys.  Why not stop everything to go down a hallway so I can figure out how to button pants with one hand, twice?  But we get it figured out.  I'm on a roll.  We come back. 

Justin volunteers to go first.  He takes the mist like a warrior.  It is at this moment that I realize Chase has his nose in the corner, covering his face with both hands.  When it's his turn, he starts to scream hysterically.  "I DON'T WANT THE NOSE SHOT!!!!"  He goes into full on panic mode, as if I'm about to hurl him off a cliff into the abyss.  The nurse steps out for a moment, to "give you guys a couple minutes..." and Chase crawls under the sink in the room.  Justin decides the mist is running down his nose or something, and starts emptying out drawers of paper towels, using at least 60+ towels to wipe his face.  I lay Adie down, and she starts screaming.  All hell has broken loose.  Oddly enough, it's more comforting to be in chaos than to be orderly lately.  This is my baseline. 

So what do I do?  I whip out the mommy-threat.  "Chase, you are not leaving this building without the medicine.  You either do the mist, or you take a shot.  You tell me.  You are doing it though."  Screaming (in stereo, since the baby was screaming too).  Crying.  Snot everywhere.  Justin opens the door and runs down the hallway.  I shoot Chase the I-mean-business-don't-mess-with-me-I-will-destroy-you look.  He agrees to the mist and gives me the I-hate-you-for-trying-to-kill-me look. Justin wanders back into the room (because he doesn't even notice my mommy glare) and Chase takes the mist, which I don't even think he noticed. 

All is fixed by the stupid stickers at the desk.  Are you kidding me?  Both boys leave the building with joy.  One has a Star Wars sticker, and the other a Spongebob sticker which they both want on their arms, directly on the skin. 

And here is the absolute worst part of the whole story.  Tomorrow, we are doing it all over again for Adelai's 6 month check up.  Right now, I can't think of a harder job than being a mother.  sigh.

Confessions of the Non-Perfect Mommy

So I think it's important to set the standard low, people.  If I'm planning to truly blow you away, I'm going to really have to get you to clap for me when I'm speaking in complete sentences and have brushed my hair...all on the same day!  I'm holding a lot of sticks with spinning plates these days and I'm starting to notice that, in fact, it has taken its toll. 

Somebody told me that adding a third child to the mix wouldn't be a big deal at all.  Whoever you were (and I really can't remember, thanks to sleep deprivation), you lied to me.  And now that I've crossed over to the other side, I know exactly why.  You were suffering, and you needed company. (Nicely done.)  It has quite literally turned my world upside down.  So, here is a glimpse into the life of me...a non-perfect mommy. 

•  I can't make it to work (or anywhere else) on time to save my life.  If I'm 10 minutes late, it's because I literally ran out of the door, shaking babies off my leg left and right and screaming "No! I can't do it! I have to go!"  Otherwise, I'd be 30 minutes late. 
• I can't match a pair of socks for my children without a scavenger hunt.  This makes me late for work.  Every day. 
• I don't understand how people keep up with laundry.  Yes, the answer is clearly to do it every single day.  However, I skipped a week for my sister's wedding, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that we will never recover.  It will be known as laundry-gate 2010 in Garland family history.
• I can't imagine having a meal ready when my husband comes home for dinner.  I tried once a few weeks ago, and I burned the meal, Justin colored his body with a blue marker, Adelai was screaming hysterically and Chase got stuck on the potty waiting for me to help him wipe.  I briefly attempted to hold the baby and cook, but noticed she was really close to the stove.  That's not good, right?  I think I read that somewhere.
• I clean, they mess it up instantly.  I rake leaves, more fall.  I do 3 loads of dishes a day, and always have dishes left over.  It's an Olympic event to check the mail, and they deliver more the next day.  I can't catch up.  
• I work as a mental health evaluator in the emergency room with severely mentally ill people and call that a "break for my own sanity".  What does that say about my life?
• Sometimes I yell.  Sometimes I get it totally right as a mom.  Usually, I'm somewhere in the middle, just trying to survive.  This is usually directly correlated with how much coffee I have had that day.  The more, the better.
• I celebrate Sundays where we get to church at a reasonable time and I haven't muttered a curse word under my breath.  Oh, the irony. 
• If I'm home with the kids and I've showered before Chris gets home, that's a really good day. 

My point is not to out myself as a disaster.  Frankly, that's not a surprise to anybody.  What I really want to say is this:
To all the moms out there who know they are a mess, I remind myself every single day that I've worked with hundreds of broken kids out there and we've talked about what they wanted at home.  It wasn't matching socks.  It was unconditional, unwavering love. 

I look like a freak show, but my kids have that.  And I'll place my bets on that any day. 

Justin the Titan

I feel the need to describe my son Justin.  Why?  Because he drew on himself with a sparkly glue marker this morning and it struck me that I have a lot of responsibility with this boy. 

First off, to get a clear picture of him, you need to know that he didn't talk for about 22 months.  During that time, he was mastering the quest to match his big brother's physical abilities.  I think the day he was born, the kid was flat out irritated that he couldn't move.  He was pretty irritable until he started crawling at 6 months(literally 6 months.)  He was hanging on to furniture at 8 months, and by 9 months old he was nearly sprinting around the house.  He was climbing bookcases by 14 months old.  It has only gotten worse from there.  This summer, I watched him rock-climb the retaining wall in our yard in under 2 minutes for the first time. 

Justin's thoughts on any type of restraint of any kind at 12 months old:

This is Justin after he climbed a bookcase at 14 months old.  Yes I took a picture because who would believe it?

When he finally did start to talk and put sentences together, he quickly found the ability to make his demands known.  To put it simply, he likes what he likes.  He does NOT like what you like, unless it was his idea.  I have seen this child ask for milk, and then LITERALLY throw a tantrum when you give it to him because he didn't want milk.  I have also watched as he "tossed" the kitchen afterwards - knocking down chairs, pulling stuff out of drawers, etc.  I like to call this "passionate" because that seems like a mom thing to say. 

All this to say that I adore this child.  Even though his ability to toss a room and tantrum makes life difficult, I have such an appreciation for his conviction.  He's a heavy responsibility because I can see his personality leading him in two different directions: 1) jail or 2) a person who is able to move mountains in any direction he pleases.  Chris and I have no idea how to direct him into option #2, but lets just say that we pray a lot, and attempt to point out to the Lord that Justin could do a lot for Him if God would give us wisdom and patience.  I see greatness in this child's future.  I also see many holes in the walls of our home over the time where he is being molded and shaped. 

And finally, a word to those who know me well.  Yes, it has been pointed out (every day) that Justin has many of my attributes.  I get it.  Yes, I see it.  Yes, I apologized to both of my parents.  A few nights ago, Justin was throwing a tantrum at 3am, and I was up with him making clear the boundaries of his behavior.  When I came back to bed and the house was quiet, Chris said "Wow.  It's like the battle of the titans."  

I'm always the winner though.   

The Evolution of Brothers

I will readily admit that as the mother of two boys very close in age (20 months apart), I often feel like this is their house, and I'm just the chaperon.  I'm constantly aware that they could overtake this home at any point if they knew the power they possess.  Thankfully, they don't.  Yet. 

To give you an idea about these boys, consider the following:

Around the time that Justin moved into a toddler bed, there was much havoc in our home as Chris and I tried to do anything and everything to convince the boys that bed time was time to rest.  Justin was freed from the crib, and they were literally climbing the dresser, jumping off the bed, trying to climb the closet, and throwing every single piece of clothing out of the dresser and hamper into the same pile.  They would both cry when we put them back in their bed, and I just couldn't understand how two children could stay up that long.  One night, Chris and I decided to just let them play and make noise until they passed out from exhaustion.  This took 2.5 hours and when the room finally went quiet, I went back there and found that they had moved Justin's bed across the room so that it was now touching Chase's bed.  They slept a lot better after that. 

When Justin was potty training, my celebration at his success was met with lukewarm response.  I would be jumping around in the bathroom yelling "yay Justin!" and Justin would run by me with glee to find Chase and give him the big news.
 


It's tough to put this into words, but they move in nearly complete harmony.  Chase translates Justin's words.  Justin worries where Chase is and doesn't seem to value any "special time" with me or Chris unless Chase is there.  Chase calls Justin his best friend.  Justin asks Chase to kiss his owies to make them better.  Justin can't celebrate something without first telling Chase.  (This morning, it was the news that we were in fact having pancakes.  Justin jumped in the air, and then ran out of room yelling "Chase! Chase! We're eating pancakes!")

The boys are moving into a new era of brotherhood as Chase has started preschool 3 days a week.  Justin started bringing comfort items to his daycare because Chase wasn't there.  Chase actually seems okay, but I've noticed the reuniting is more difficult.  They seem to fight a bit more.  I know it's normal and I'm just hanging back watching as they navigate a big change.  It's an honor to be part of their story. 

However, if they ever do figure out how much power they have combined, I'm moving out. 

Preschool

The day came.  I can't believe it.  I drove Chase to his very first day of preschool today.  It was a usual car ride for him - we saw a hot air balloon on the way, and he delightfully told me that under no circumstances would he ride in a hot air balloon.  He would be willing to be on a rocket ship, however and if I could arrange that, he'd like to also bring his brother Justin.  He would also be willing to ride a horse.  Oh, and a donkey.  And also, he likes our dog.  And what are we having for dinner? 

As he's having this discussion with (me?) himself, it just kept running through my mind.  I'm DROPPING HIM OFF AT SCHOOL.  I remember the day he was born...the day my whole world changed.  I remember the day that I wiped his buns for the first time and it struck me how much it didn't bother me.  I remember looking at him and realizing this boy had made me a mother...and how I'd never be the same. 

So we walked in, and he signed himself in.  He walked to his cubby, and put his jacket away.  He said hi to his teacher.  I stared and tried to wipe his face.  He looked at me and said "Mom, I'm not going to be scared today, okay?" All I could think was....I guess it's my turn to be scared today. 

So he walked away.  I waited to reassure him, and he never looked back.  I guess this is where moms start to hold their breath.  He's out in the world, and I'm here.  He made me a mom, and I'm just here, being his mom and he's out in the world. 

He's a fantastic kid.  We are making great kids, if I do say so myself.  This mom thing is hard sometimes.