Chase turns 5

My Dear Sweet Chase,

You are five years old, and to give you an idea about your life in the past year, I'm writing this birthday letter to you on August 16th, a full 3 weeks after your official birthday.  But to be fair, when you were born, I was in labor with you for 3 full days and then had the wonderful experience of a Cesarean section that I could feel the whole time.  So, my lovely wonderful son, I think you can flippin wait for just a few weeks.  I'm just sayin.  And if there is a theme for the completion of your fourth year, it has been "Hold on Chase, I need just a few moments."  This is the year that you settled into being an extra big brother.  You started school, you met God, and you grew a foot. 

So you are five.  When did that happen?  I have the sense that I was marveling at you at birth, and then something shiny went by and when I looked back at you, you were 4 feet tall.  You are so much less baby, and so much more a person.  Your very own person.  Potentially the most amazing part of being your mom is watching you grow and learning about who you are.  I was there when you kicked for the first time in my tummy, and now I'm here watching you figure out the world.  I think I stop you twice a day (at least) to tell you how much I love being your mommy.  One of my most favorite parts about you is that you receive love with a total open heart.  You stop every single time, look at me in the face and say "Thanks mommy" with such sincerity, as if it's the first time I've ever said it to you.  You just soak up love.  And then, as if that isn't just amazing, you hand it back out as if it isn't that big of a deal.  You love people so well. 

You are seriously excited to be 5.

And if ever a boy could be called a tender hearted warrior, it would be you.  You started preschool this year, and immediately you were faced with the challenge of entering a classroom where everybody already knew each other.  You made quick friends with a boy who didn't want you to play with anybody else.  You guys were attached at the hip and inseparable for over two months.  But you started to have reservations.  You wanted to play with other kids too, and he became quite possessive of you.  You sometimes would come to me and tell me that you wanted to play with other kids, but your friend wouldn't let you and you seemed honestly distressed by this.  Your daddy and I encouraged you to play with all sorts of children, but we held back and let you sort it out.  And you did, Chase.  You did it so well.  At parent-teacher conferences, your teacher Megan told me that you had stood in a group of boys in front of your friend and announced "(Insert friend's name here), my heart wants to play with everybody" as you made a sweeping motion with your arms towards the whole group.  And that day, you lost your friend.  This friend continued to struggle and eventually left the school.  You told me several times that you were sad for him, but you also were quite clear that you wanted no part in turning other friends away.  Have I mentioned that I just adore your heart? 

This was your very first day of school.

Another part of you that just blows me away is your ability to be an amazing big brother.  You have a shadow in the bodily form of Justin.  He is constantly seeking to do exactly what you do and be exactly where you are.  In the above picture, your brother grabbed a backpack and wanted to be included in your picture as he was well aware that you were having a special moment.  You and I usually share a look, wherein you silently state "Seriously mom?" and I silently reply "Dude, I know.  Just entertain him and I'll make it up to you.  Swear." And you relent, and you make sure that Justin feels included.  Even though Justin drives you nuts sometimes, you also love being brothers with him.  You can't stand the idea of not sleeping in the same room with him.  You can certainly play by yourself, but you are a social kid and clearly prefer to play with your brother. 

You boys are tight. 

You've had to deal with some physical aggression from your brother, but make no mistake.  You take it for awhile, but if he pushes you far enough, you can throw down.  That has been intriguing to watch, because you definitely have to be shoved in that direction.  Your spirit is gentle, and you resist....right up until you don't.  Then, watch out folks.

You have brought me such joy every day of your life.

Another thing I noticed about you this past year is that you became more bold.  You have been a fairly reserved kid for most of your years thus far.  You often set limits for yourself with caution.  For example, this past year you had nothing to do with water.  You told me that you were planning to get your "swimmer's license" when you turn 6.  Once or twice, your daddy and I tried to push you past your comfort level but we quickly realized that it was 100% unsuccessful and traumatizing for everyone involved.  What I did notice was that as soon as we backed off (.....alright, more like 4 months after we backed off), you started to get more confident.  You have a time frame in mind, and you are unwavering.

Now you are jumping for the sky.

Believe it or not, this was a big improvement this year.

This past year you might have noticed a lot of changes in our family.  We started going to church every Sunday.  We started to read the Bible during lunch, and we focused more on the real purpose for Christmas and Easter.  I think I might have given you whiplash this year.  Whereas the year before, we had talked a bunch about Santa and the Easter Bunny, you suddenly got a totally crazy response from your mommy who nearly had heart attacks every time these were mentioned.  But you took my sudden zeal in stride.  Not only did you tolerate the 180 degree turn from your mommy, but you soaked it up like a sponge.  You remembered stuff that I said (even stuff I said that I then forgot) and you connected stuff together that I never even told you in the first place.  You became an evangelical at your school (which initially freaked me out), you learned intricate and amazing detail about the Garden of Gethsemane, the trial and Calvary (in one day) that you spouted off with perfect accuracy at a family get together a month later, and you remind me all the time to read you the Bible.  In short, while the Holy Spirit is convicting to pursue the Lord with reckless abandon, so are you.  Any time I hesitate, there your beautiful face is, looking expectantly as if praying with you is the same as brushing your teeth or eating lunch.

I could not love you more.

Sometimes I feel so guilty for how blessed I am.  In the Bible, it often says things like "But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ" (Phil 3:7) and describes the first as last in the Kingdom of God. As your mom, I often picture myself standing in the back of the crowd with a smile.  I belong in the back.  When you have received the blessings that I have received, I will joyfully be last.  I picture myself standing in front of God with tears streaming down my eyes because I was so blessed on this planet to be your mommy that all I can do is say (if I can even speak) Thank You.  And what can you possibly ask for when you have Chase as your son? 

I think ultimately, Chase, you drive me to stand still and want nothing.  Since the day I saw your face, I couldn't remember a single thing that had been important to me.  And in the past year, as I have come to understand the full weight of the blessings I have received, I know that I should never want again. 

Happy Birthday (3 weeks ago) Chase.  I'm excited for year 5.  You break new ground every day in this house, and while you are breaking in a newbie set of parents, I know you'll be gentle. 

Love Always,

Mommy

Happy Father's Day

Dear Chris,

First off, can I just apologize to you that I couldn't think of a single gift that would cost .20 cents?  I don't even think that gets you a Fun Size candy bar.  I almost stole some money from the kid's college fund money (you know, the one full of pennies), but I again am stealing internet from the neighbors to write this, so I felt another sin was too much to bear.  Unfortunately, this is my gift to you.  And if it's the thought that counts, then hopefully you will consider this letter the equivalent to a trip to Hawaii. 
Or tickets to a Mariner game. 
Or just a couple of freakin kid-free minutes to watch an entire Mariner game on HDTV. 
Or maybe just a cold beer to drink while the kids are screaming. 
Wow, the bar really isn't that high these days, is it? 

WARNING-  I'm about to get emotional all over your ass buns.

I think I had an idea of how great of a dad you would be on our first date nearly 10 years ago.  You took me to a baseball field late at night and stood on second base.  The way that you looked around the field....I think I loved you that exact moment.  I can't explain why that was the moment, but maybe I understand it now.  Could it have been that the love you felt for the game of baseball was just a glimpse of how much passion you would bring to my boys?  I think about that moment a lot.  Every time Justin comes tearing around the corner yelling "Dad! Dad! Will you teach me baseball?  Can we play catch in the front yard?", my heart explodes with joy.  Because you are the kind of dad where I know with certainty that the dreams of my boys are going to come true.  Justin and Chase are going to get a resounding "For sure, little man" every single time.  Not only will you show up, but you will love every single moment.  And when that those little boys comes inside, they will know that you loved every moment too. 

There are other moments too.  When you come home, you have no idea how the children respond.  They stop everything they are doing, shout "Daddy's home! Daddy's home!" and sprint for the door.  Adelai is always last, but it most certainly is not for lack of glee.  Much to my delight, she has become a Daddy's Girl, through and through. You light up her life.  Her biggest smiles come from the mere glimpse of you, and I can't help but love you all over again. 

Watching you be a dad has added so many layers to my affection for you.  And maybe the most simplest way to explain it comes from my knowledge of your integrity.  I look at my babies and I know to the depth of my core that you will never leave them.  I know that my daughter will never know what it's like to miss her daddy.  I know that my sons will grow up with the knowledge that a man stays, regardless of circumstance.  I don't know what circumstances lie ahead, but I know you. My bet is on you. You will stay, because you are you, and that's what you do. 

That was all really nice to say, but here is what I really want to express to you on this Father's Day. 

I'm so desperately glad that you are the father of my children because I know that as they continue to figure out who God is, the revelation of God the Father will be a reassurance to them, and not a hindrance.  They will understand that God is patient, and God is loving.  He is steadfast and desires above all to provide for His beloved.  He is a protector and will fight for them.  He is a shield and He will sacrifice with joy for them.  And it is from a heart of passionate love. 

Roughly 10 years ago, I loved you a lot.  But now, as I have the privilege to share a family with you, I can't really even express it in words anymore.  You are more than I ever could have hoped for, and I'm so proud to be your wife. 

Happy Father's Day.
Love you. 

Toughness

There are many words to describe my oldest boy.  Recently I've added some things like "limit-tester" and the like, but a few descriptors have remained constant the past few years. 

Here is a tentative list:

• Cautious
• Aware of all things that might go wrong
• self parent
• comfortable with both feet on the ground at all times
• easygoing in all things, except when he feels like his life is in danger..which is always.  Actually, let's not be dramatic. It's only, like 98% of the time.

The best way to describe Chase's disposition is probably by example.

Example #1: At family camp last year, we camped by a lake.  The boys were both in horrifying bathing suits....(in my defense, the picture on the swimsuit did not reveal that each child's...ahem...genitalia (?) ...would be outlined like spandex....except for worse than that.  Is there a worse than that? See below. I think you'll agree that yes...this is so much worse.)


You may take a few moments to collect yourself.

So how close did Chase, given the safest swimsuit of all time, come to swimming in the lake? (Which, by the way, was boxed out by the dock for children?)


This close.  And no closer.

Occasionally he would get into this blow up boat, or maybe a floater.  But NEVER when the water went above his knees.  (The boat was even worse....when it started to leave the sand and actually float, he nearly had a panic attack.) We were there for 2 days, and he never advanced further than his knee.  He even knelt down in the water to try and get his floater to touch the water "like the other kids".  But dare-devil, he is not.

He would be the perfect insurance auditor. 

Example #2 is simply that, whenever offered something that makes him nervous (bikes, scooters, really anything where his body is not 100% in his own control) he will tell people "I'm going to do that when I'm 5.  When I'm 5, I'll be ready."  Who needs to parent that kid?  Can you see why we were wholly unprepared for Justin, who at Family Camp, ran at a dead sprint on the deck towards the lake with full intent to jump in the water? 

Parenting Goal #145 for Chase:  Encourage him to realize life isn't scary.
Parenting Goal #1 for Justin:  Encourage him to realize that he should at least be somewhat scared of life, since he's going to break copious amounts of bones. 

So, all this to say that I had the most heartbreaking conversation with Chase last night.  He climbed up on my lap and with big solemn blue eyes,  began to tell me that his friend at school "is tougher than me". 

"Why do you think that, honey?" I asked.
"Well, (insert bully name here) yells at me and calls me bad names, and then (insert tough kid's name here) yells back at him and hits him in the head.  I never do that." he replied. 

He looked so sad.  Here is this moment.   As his mom, it's evident that part of the heart of Chase puts him out in the world wherein his giant heart and careful manner are both occasionally going to be viewed as weakness.  He's kind of right on that.  And he's perceived it which, in retrospect, shouldn't be shocking.

So I said "Chase, the real tough people in this world are the ones who have hurt feelings, but don't hurt back.  That's being tough.  That's real toughness.  And you're the toughest guy I know."
And then Chris the man added "and also they get hurt and don't cry."
(Child therapist Jessica and Man Chris then shared a glance wherein I gave him a piece of my mind and he informed me that I was turning his boy into a wussy girl.)

Then Chase looked at me and said in a very quiet tone, "Mommy?  Am I tougher than Justin?"
This completely broke my heart. 
And all I could say was "I love exactly how tough you are."  I'm crossing my fingers that this was enough. 

I just love this boy.  My hope is that you can teach toughness, but I know for sure you can't teach what Chase has.  He's full of empathy, brilliant, affectionate and he'll change this world. 

Nope, you can't teach that. 

On Testing of Parents

This is my son Chase. 



Since the day he was born, I've marveled at how easy of a child he is.  He goes to sleep when I tell him to, and he loves to cuddle.  When he was an only child, he would wake up at the crack of dawn and we'd bring him to our bed with his morning bottle.  He'd cuddle, drink the bottle and go back to sleep.  It was a good, stress free life.  The only difficult thing about Chase has been finding shirts that fit his long arms (they are freakishly long).  He often looks like he's wearing a 3/4 length sleeve, when he isn't.  (In my defense, that flippin shirt fit yesterday.)

And once, his feet grew so fast that when we finally went to buy him a new pair of shoes, the lady showed us how he had been curling up his feet to put on his shoes in anticipation of the limited space.  Oops.  He just should have said something.  First time parents just can't do everything right, you know?  It's not my fault.  He's gigantic.  As in, he skipped 2T/3T all together and went straight to 4T when he was just two years old.  Now his feet are 3/4 of the size of MY FEET.  This is going to get crazy, folks.  Prepare yourself. 

Oh, and when he ever got in trouble? (Which was never.)  He just flowed with it.  He didn't flip out and try to beat me up (like a certain other child living in our home named Justin), but he did the discipline and moved on.  Occasionally he tried to outwit us ("Mom? I only clean up at school. Not here." and "Why don't I play and you clean? Then we'll both be happy.  Right mom?"), but in general, he's an easygoing, loving child. 

Until last weekend. 

Cue four-year-old child suddenly noticing free will. 

And four seconds after he noticed free will, cue logical, reasonable mother having internal debates with unreasonable rageful mother who is taking a mental tally of her stretch marks and wondering how the offender would ever dare utter the phrase "no" to his victim.  Because CHASE GARLAND, I went through hell for you.  So this "no" that you speak of?  Choose wisely my son.  Because when Mommy starts to count 1-2-3, she really isn't counting an obscure, abstract thing.  She's counting war wounds on her stomach, wherein it appears that a cat was hanging off a cliff and attached itself to my body in a last ditch effort to save it's life.  And it failed. 

So this is my life this week. 
Me: Hey Chase?  Please stop putting your blanket onto Adelai and then laying on her.  That's dangerous.
Chase: Kay.
Me (20 seconds later, he's doing it AGAIN): Chase! Come talk to me. 
Chase: No.
Me (mouth drops to the ground.  Stunned, pause for 22 seconds and then): WHAT? 
Chase: No. 
Me: Are you joking?
Chase: No.

So I've just started to pick his (ginormous) body up off the ground and place him in his room until he's ready to behave.  And it's happened, oh, I don't know, 10 times today already.  In case you are wondering, it has nothing to do with a discipline technique.  Really, he either goes into his room, or he sees my head explode off of my body.  Because honestly?  I just don't see it coming.  My Chase?  My blue-eyed, blond haired cherub is turning into a person. 

And while my brain is turning into a hot mess, I sometimes picture the description of Jesus in Revelation, where His eyes are "like a flame of fire" (Rev 1:14).  And I realize that his flamy eyes are Holy, and my flamy eyes are rageful and unholy.  

In this moment, I'm pretty sure that Jesus' eyes are like a flame of fire because His children said "No". 

Even in my obsessive, desperate pursuit to know God as much as humanly possible, I still say "no" every day.  He must want to count all His stretch marks all day long....kinda like when He responded to Job's incessant complaining with a litany of "Really?  You're going to question Me?  Did you see the ostrich that I made?  I think not, little man.  I THINK NOT." 

Once again, I'm blown away by how He reveals Himself through the parent-child relationship.  I hope someday I stop saying No.   


 

Preschool Combat

I'm a girl.  Not sure if that was clear, but I'm really a girl.  When I was told I was having a boy at the ultrasound for Chase, I walked away absolutely stunned.  I guess I just assumed that, while boys exist, I could only reproduce what I already was.  Plus, all the people in my family are girls, so needless to say I feel vastly unprepared to be the mother of two boys.  Everyday I am slapped in the face with their maleness and I'm totally perplexed.  I always considered myself a tomboy.  I was wrong. 

First of all, their boy parts are...*ahem*...scary.  I didn't realize how awkward I was around them until I had a daughter and realized how dramatically more comfortable I was.  I think when Chase was born, Chris and I actually had a conversation about if it was possible to break it.  As the boys grow older, I'm freaked.  I really am.  I'm about ready to just say to Chris that he needs to take care of all things with respect to their boy parts.  I just don't want to traumatize them (or myself) for life.  And when I'm trying to assist in washing body parts by batting a wash cloth at it with a terrified look on my face, I think it's safe to say that we are approaching trauma status. 

Second, they try to kill each other everyday and are best friends.  I think I'm starting to get the rules of brother combat, but I clearly live in an alternate universe of dolls and playing house.  For example, did you know that a pencil can be whipped across the back of your neck and leave a red mark for a few hours? 

These seem to be the rules of combat in our house, though take account for the idea that I'm female and only an observer. 

• If you profess your love for any object in the home, you can essentially kiss it goodbye.  Your weakness has been identified by your brother/best friend/enemy/competition.
• If you are playing with a toy...any toy at all, you are asking to be tackled from behind, thrown to the ground and the toy to be ripped out of your grip. 
• If you are the person that tackled the other, you better run for your life. 
• If you are the child that happens to run for your life, you should run to your mother and stand by her, ever so nonchalantly. 
• If she happens to ask you in a frustrated tone "What are you guys doing?", you both must look at her ever-so-innocently and say "nothing mom". 
• If you are wrestling and somebody wants to poop, all you have to yell is "I have to go poop" and the other immediately releases.  Both smile and wrestling is paused until the pooper returns.  
• Each boy has their own art form.  Chase is cool until he grits his teeth and wraps his hands around Justin's neck.  You know that Chase has crossed the line at this point.  However, if he's just swinging a baseball bat and hits Justin in the buns, this was "just fun".  Justin on the other hand is always having fun until he starts screaming a guttural growl wherein he starts swinging his arms in a crazy fashion and running after the other.  This appears to be the moment when the grown up is supposed to dive on the Justin and take the blow.  Because Justin will swing.  And you will be hit.  And it could be funny, or it could not be funny to him.  You never really know until you release and he either laughs hysterically or screams like a wild child. 
• Apparently the goal seems to be that you fight just enough to make your mom wonder if she'll accomplish anything at all today besides keeping you alive.  This is a intricate dance of fighting just enough so that she thinks accomplishing something was possible, yet she's interrupted enough to fail. 
• Time out is really just an opportunity to harass the offender who is stuck in a chair for a predetermined amount of time.  Just make sure that anytime your mom turns around, you are again looking ever so innocent. 
• Being in time out together is hysterical. 
• If you are angry at each other, this lasts for 14 seconds.  Just enough to make the other person cry. 

I don't get it.  I'll never get it.  They hold hands and punch each other with the free arm.  They jump off of beds, collide, wrestle to the ground screaming and then laugh.  Any object is a potential weapon.  I'm just the lady on the outside trying to argue for sanity to two insane little testosterony boys who just hear "blah blah blah".  Then they turn, smile with big dimples and say "Hey mom? Justin colored the wall with red marker.  And also the couch.  And his face.  Can I have some milk?  Why does your face look like that?"

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.”

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.