All Dogs Go to Heaven

It's been an incredibly difficult day as we said goodbye to our beloved golden, Cali. She was, without a doubt, the most perfectly wonderful dog for our family. Mark and I brought her home after 10 months of being married, right when we bought our first home together. She was our first "baby"; the first little life we learned to take care of together.  She was an awesome puppy. I mean, awesome. And no, I am not remembering our sweet girl through rose colored glasses.  She really was an amazingly kind, gentle, sweet, loving, and faithful friend all the days of her life.

When we brought our first child home from the hospital she would sleep outside of his bedroom door to protect him. Every time he lay on the floor, she was right there with him-head on the play mat right next to Zachary.

She was here when each of our boys was born, and she loved them immensely and let them crawl and grab on her all the time, and never so much as whimpered.
And today, as we left after saying goodbye, through tears Mark reflected on the incredibly hard season of our marriage years ago. "Lindsey, you had Smitty, Janine, Emily, your friends...I had no one. No one to love me or care for me in that time of pain, except Cali. She would lay with me for hours when no one else would." She was a source of God's love to Mark. A very real, tangible expression of God's love to him in his darkest hour. She literally, never left his side.
When Drew's asthma became so severe and he had grown into an allergy to Cali, Mark's parents graciously took her in the last 2 years. I can't think of better adoptive parents than my in-laws. Cali lived the last 2 years of her life on a 100 acre farm, visiting us often, and being pampered and loved by Mark's mom and dad. We were able to still love Cali, see Cali, snuggle with our girl, and have confidence that when she wasn't with us she was well loved every day.
A few months ago she started to get sick. And then on Christmas Eve we found out she had kidney cancer. I wasn't expecting the disease to take her so quickly, but it did. Mark's mom called this morning in tears to tell me today was the day. We rushed to be by her side. 

 I absolutely believe that all dogs/pets go to heaven and I will see Cali again one day. I take great comfort in that. Mark and I also talked, that while Cali will be in heaven, our dog Lilly most certainly will not be there.

As I grieve the loss of our most perfect dog I watch through tears as Lilly chews up another pad from the trash, and I step in another pile of her poop in bare feet. Yep, no lies here.
It's a sad day. And I'm not sure when the sadness will end. But I do know this, I am thankful for this pain because it means we were able to love and be loved by an amazing gift, the love of a pet that is wholely committed to you, no matter what.

When we walked into the house today to lay by her side and snuggle in her fur one last time, she fought to stand, walked over to us, and made strange noises, all she could muster, as she recognized us and tried to come to us one more time. When we came together she collapsed onto our laps and we just held her as she trembled because the toxins were poisoning her body.  She was faithful to the very, very end.
Missing you terribly tonight sweet girl.
The Very Sad Mom

Uh...Uh...Uh...Why Isn't There a Guide for This Stuff?

Again, totally different, equally as wonderful, but totally different children.
The other night we were reading the Christmas story to the boys before bed.
Zachary: Mommy, if Jesus is God's Son, why didn't God marry Mary?
Me: Um, because God....Mark?
Mark: It was different. God put Jesus in Mary's belly.
Zachary: Yeah, but isn't that what he does for every baby?
Mark: (crickets...)
Me: Well, God had intended for Mary to marry Joseph, but he had a plan for Jesus so he put Jesus in Mary's belly in a special way. Make sense?
Zachary: Yeah.

Whew! Sex talk crisis averted! Not ready for the birds and the bees discussion with my 8 year.
Theological crisis averted.  If you'll remember, the last time Zachary started asking questions he ended up in tears (Debating Systematic Theology with a 5 Year Old). I'm still figuring this parenting thing out, don't judge.

Anyway, while I love the way Zachary thinks and has a quest for knowledge and understanding and truth, sometimes I can handle the more simple-minded children with a little more ease.
While watching America's Funniest Home Videos last night with the boys we saw a clip of a kid eating his boogers.

Drew: (laughing) I do that.
Mark: Don't do that Drew, that's gross.
Drew: Yeah, but I don't do it at birthday parties.

Oh my bad, we thought you were totally gross; but you clearly have standards. High five dude!
And then there was Nate, 2 nights ago at the zoo.
Nate: Mommy, I just did this with my finger in my nose, and then put it in my mouth.
Me: Nate, sweetie, don't do that.
Nate: Why?
Me: Because, that's gross and you are putting germs in your mouth that could make you sick.
Nate: (Eating another booger with a huge smile) Yeah, but it's good!
Me: Uh, Zachary...want to discuss predestination vs. free will?

Have a Merry Christmas everyone!
The Joyful and Tired Mom

I Mean, For Real?

There is such a difference between my boys, it's unbelievable.
My favorite company to get things for my boys is Mindware. They call themselves "The Brainy Toys for Kids of All Ages." I love everything because my boys like to solve puzzles and create projects, and figure out how things work, especially Zachary.  I was looking through their catalog again and seeing all these cool science experiments that Zachary would love: Candy Chemistry, Rootvue Farm, Make Your Own Chewing Gum, That's Gross Science Lab, etc. One thing I saw though that I'm sad we didn't get for Z this year, a 4-in-1 Cool Tool Workshop. The description "Young carpenters can safely create and build projects using this combination drill press, jigsaw, sander, and lathe..."  Yes, I would consider getting my 8 year old a jigsaw, sander, drill press, and lathe.  I think Zachary is responsible enough for this toy.
My other boys, not so much.
Two days ago I had to tell one of my younger boys not to shove a toy up his butt while taking a bath, because I caught him trying to do it. He asked why. Why can't you shove Captain Hook up your butt? Because if you do we'll have to go to the hospital, take an x-ray, and then that picture will end up all over facebook, pinterest, and our Christmas card next year because you have a mean mom.
Seasons Greetings!

The Joyful and Tired Mom

The Glamorous Life of Motherhood

Well, I wouldn't chalk this day up as my best. Close, but not my best.
I had 2 of my boys in tears by 7:30 A.M. and had already called Mark with no control over my tongue. I was in the basement cussing up a storm, near tears myself, telling him he needed to come home.  After my freak out I can proudly say that I texted him and told him that I could, in fact, handle this day on my own.  But there were several moments when I wasn't sure.
Starting the day with breakfast, homework, and endless fights and whining between Child #2 and Child #3, plus searching high and low for a missing IPod that I am convinced was abducted by aliens last night, never to be seen again...makes for a crazy hectic morning. 
Then, I took a moment to sit down with my boys and Nate lovingly covered me with a blanket to rest. After a few minutes I realize that the blanket I was laying under is covered, and I do mean STEEPED in urine. Nate can blame the dog all he wants. I am semi-convinced that he peed all over that thing and then put on his sweet face to "take care" of me and cover me with it.  It's all part of his evil plan to break me down one moment at a time, and then take over our home, and then the world.

After freaking out and throwing everything in the wash, Drew started crying because, "No matter how many times I wash my hands, they still smell like poop from wiping!" (If you're keeping track, that's now 3 kids in tears.) I swear, he would do anything to get out of wiping his own rear...just ask our friends, the Boyer's, or his Aunt Janie's mom.

So we had "Operation: Make Your Hands Not Smell Like Poo."  I am thrilled to announce that our operation was a success. Whew. Not P-U, but whew.
All in a days work I guess. Isn't this what I dreamt about as a little girl? Motherhood in all it's glory!

This picture I found on Pinterest really paints the perfect picture of motherhood. The only thing it's missing is a baby attached to the mom via a Baby Bjorn and a dog licking her feet.  Looking forward to the rest of my day, and my alone time in the bathroom-ha!

 

 

Many Motherhood Blessings,

The Joyful and Tired Mom

Merry Christmas Everyone!

 

Merry Christmas

We hope that 2013 has been a wonderful year for each of you: full of life, love, and thanksgiving. And if it hasn’t been full of thanksgiving yet, it may be after you read our family letter.  Yes, pretending to be perfect and paint a perfect picture of our year is exhausting. So while our transparency in life may make some cringe (especially my mother), we feel it is a disservice to gloss over all the “good” stuff.

Zachary: Our big guy is 8 ½ years old, and pretty incredible. He has the integrity and strength of character that most adults would admire. Many days I stand in awe of him.  He just got braces this past summer and has spent much of his time this year honing his skills of teeth brushing.  Still a work in progress; but our hope is that practice will eventually make perfect.   He is unbelievably smart.  I am confident that I have one more year before he realizes he is smarter than me. And he also believes he is quite the joke teller. (Deep sigh) Mark and I are constantly telling ourselves that even Johnny Carson or Ellen Degenerous had to start somewhere, right. Right?!!!!!

Drew: Oh, our sweet Drew.  We have come a long way since the days of catching him brushing his penis with one of his brother’s toothbrushes.  (Yes, I did just say penis in a Christmas letter. You’re welcome.)  Drew started kindergarten this year and is amazing. We always kept our fingers crossed about this one (and a military school brochure in our back pocket).  We were never quite sure how he would be in school.  Would he try to be the funny kid, or the studious student?  We were blown away and grateful when during conferences his teacher said, “If I had a classroom full of Drew’s I would be so happy. He does what is right, even when no one is looking.” Say what?!  He loves school, loves learning, and is becoming quite the little artist. He has discovered a love for all things “art”, which intimidates me because I, nor Mark, have graduated past Stick Figures 101.

Nate: He’s trying to kill me.

Mark and Lindsey: We love this crazy life with our family.  However, every day when Mark calls on his lunch break he isn’t sure whether I will answer the phone laughing because of our awesome kids, or crying because Nate mentally gave me the finger again.  Either way though, we are grateful that this crazy life is the life we get to call our own.  Our heads hit the pillow most nights in total exhaustion, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.  As Mark said a few weeks ago, “I think raising 3 boys is a badge of honor…if we survive.”  And it is!  I am not sure why God entrusts these precious little lives to us, but He has.  And Mark and I are eternally grateful.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Mark, Lindsey, Zachary, Drew, and Nate





Where Our Chores Go to Die

I hate...I mean, with a passion so deep it's evident to all...I hate this poem:

 

I think the reason I am so passionately opposed to this poem is because in its simplest form it is supposed to invoke thoughts of sweetness and love for the special calling of motherhood. However, all it does is invoke feelings of pure guilt. 

I started feeling agitated about this poem again today while sitting down for 5 minutes to eat my lunch. I know, I know. I am a fairly rotten excuse for a mom to actually want to eat lunch. However, it was the first time I had sat down to do something that was strictly, only beneficial for me all day.  All morning I had been cleaning up after my sweet tornadoes. Doing dishes in the dishwasher, washing some by hand, unloading the dishwasher, loading it again, making toffee for Kids Wow tonight, helping with homework, helping my 5 year old write a little book, feed everyone their 15 breakfasts, feeding them lunch, having a friend over to play, mediating spats between brothers, trying to keep my volcanic 4 year old from errupting, folding tons and tons and tons of laundry that I'm still not finished putting away. And yet, because I was apparently not spending quality time with my 4 year old he had to behave in such a way that would require attention.

Any parent knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Literally, I can hear the voice in HIS head, "Idiot switch-activate." It truly is unbelievable.

Play with Resolve? Why not!

Run outside in the snow and ice without shoes or socks? Don't mind if I do.

Try to climb into the refrigerator with no regard to what Cherry taught us on Punky Brewster? Sounds like a plan!

So here I am desperately trying to accomplish things that are my job! I chose to stay at home. I wouldn't want it any other way. But with that comes a lot of responsibility. And it is insulting to tell a mom that she should put her responsibilities on hold. That wouldn't be acceptable in any other line of work!

"Um yes doctor, please put the scalpel down and come cuddle with your child. That surgery can wait."

"Fortune 500 company CEO, yes, that board meeting needs to be put on hold. The center of your universe needs attention-NOW!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I can't pay my bills today or tomorrow or ever. I couldn't work, I was snuggling."

I know I am being slightly melodramatic. I have that tendency sometimes. But why is what I do less important than what anyone else does? This poem makes me feel that way, like my responsibilities of feeding my kids and not allowing them to go to school in dirty clothes, or live in squaller isn't extremely important.  This only stirs mother's guilt in me that I'm not DOING enough.  As a mom we are expected to be hands-on all the time: activity directors for our kids, coaches, teachers, entertainers, jungle gyms, cuddlers, great story tellers, room moms, PTO presidents, great cooks, and awesome wives. Oh, and you have to be in shape too.

I know that people won't agree with me. That's ok. I'm not asking you to. I am just simply stating what I believe is absurd. Because I'll tell you what, I'll show you what happens when "cooking and cleaning wait till tomorrow..."

 

 

You get a room FULL of "tomorrow's" chores.  This is where our chores go to die.  All clean laundry. None of it ever getting put away.

So THIS dear author of that miserable poem

 is why cooking and cleaning can't wait.

Stuff has to get done in our beautiful home

Because messes don't wait to accumulate.

 

Off to do more laundry,

The Joyful and Tired Mom