Archive for the ‘jenn’ Category

Snails and Puppy Dog Tails


2010
02.11

When my oldest was a baby, I used to sing him this song I made up called Chubby Bunny. He was a fat baby. Sweet, but really fat. Isaac and I have always had a special bond, he is my cuddler and he is pretty sensitive so I usually get a lot of love from him during the day.

This morning he was busy getting ready for school and we were all in a tizzy trying to get out the door in time. Josh was crying about something, Eli was screaming for his binky and I had just spilled coffee all over my pants. Isaac stopped all of the sudden, in the middle of the chaos, and reached out for a quick hug. My Chubby Bunny.

Today after school, he comes bounding up the stairs with a huge smile on his face and says,” Mom, I saved something for you today!” With it being close to Valentine’s Day and all, I got excited that a red paper heart with an “I Love You Mom” written in kindergarten cursive (aka illegible) was coming my way. Just as I prepare myself for some more love from my oldest child, he turns around and… FARTS. Then laughs. And runs away.

That is what my son was “saving” for me today. Seriously.

My Three Sons


2010
02.10

I am sure over time there will be a million posts about my three boys. However, as I begin this journey of being a mother of three I can’t help  but share some of the things I’ve experienced so far.

 

First of all, when pregnant with a boy for the 3rd time, you are more likely to get condolences than congratulations. Men who would comment on my pregnancy, and then discover I was pregnant with another boy would inevitably say things like:

I’m one of three boys, my poor mother.

I’m one of four boys, my mom was a trooper.

I’m one of two boys, my mom is glad we are out of the house.

I’m one of several boys, my mom is trained in martial arts.

 

Okay so not really the last one but I imagine that karate would be a useful skill for me to acquire in the next few years. It would help with deflecting flying Buzz Lightyear toys and legos. If any of you are wondering what it is like to be a mother to so many boys, I can only say that I don’t really know yet. Eli is still at that androgynous baby stage (as evidenced by the MANY, “she is so cute” comments at Target and the mall). He isn’t really all boy yet, just a sweet, smiling little bug that eats poops and sleeps….hmmm, maybe he is all boy.

 

“Boydom” is in full swing with Joshua and Isaac though. They have taken to wrestling and fighting a good portion of the time they are together. Isaac is my pacifist, not really down with all of the physicality that Joshua exudes. Like a good dog would do, he takes several punches from the smaller pup before he growls. Joshie is ALL BOY. Often times after people have been around him for a period of time I get comments like:

Wow, he sure is full of energy!

That kid never stops!

Josh is a firecracker!

 

These things are all spanish for - holy sh%t, how do you do it?  The answer is, I have learned the fine art of “tuning him out.” Joshie talks nonstop and is always getting into something he shouldn’t. Often during the day I will hear the vaccum go on or the pump for the air mattress. He is obsessed with things that make noise. I know that if he is “vaccuming” he at least isn’t pestering Isaac. Unfortunately though, while Isaac may not be the first to throw a punch, he is incredibly loud. You take his booming voice plus Joshie’s daily vaccuming session and….The  level of noise in our house is maybe only rivaled by the cast of Jersey Shore but I am pretty sure there is just as much testosterone and fist bumping going on here.

 

As I settle in with my three sons I can offer the following observation - I am sure that my life over the next few years will in some ways resemble Lord of the Flies. You know, a bunch of boys on an island (our house) trying to kill their leader (me and Kevin). So glad I was forced to read that book and understand the boy mentality. Anyone know where I can get a conch shell?

 

isaac

mom-and-joshie

eli2

Scarlet Letter


2010
02.07

I cheated. Totally gave my heart and attention to another. The man I stood up and pledged to love forever in front of 200 some odd people, took a backseat to another boy.

It started 6 years ago. We’d been married for a little over 4 years. We were in love and still young enough to look good in swimsuits. Then it happened. It came on like a train and I couldn’t stop it.

First was the positive test. Then the ultrasound, then labor. Then I held him for the first time. Oh Isaac. My first love, my husband was immediately moved to second place.

Then Joshua, and now Elijah. Three boys to take my time, attention and heart. Don’t get me wrong, being a mother is a life force type of power that takes you over and changes you for the better. However, I, like most other mom’s, forgot how I came to be a mother in the first place.

He was 19 and totally head over heels in love. I fell shortly there after. We cuddled, sent flowers, wrote letters and talked of our great adventure together. Somewhere between those days and late night diaper changes I forgot how to be a girlfriend, a best friend.

I know it sounds weird to say that I’ve been cheating on my husband with my kids but I have and I think a lot of other mom’s are guilty of the same crime. The child in front of you comes first because his or her needs are immediate. The man you married stands behind, a good man, waiting. By the time you fall into bed at night, exhausted by the day, you have nothing left to give.

I don’t want this anymore. I confess my lack of  devotion to my marriage. I nag to be romanced and remembered, yet, I know he feels my heart’s priorities have shifted away from him and to the children. I love my children, more than life, but I am begging to find a better balance. After all, if my marriage suffers because I neglect to nurture my relationship with my husband, then doesn’t that shatter the foundation I want my children to stand on?

Please don’t misunderstand my confession here, I am not saying I need to pay less attention to my children. I am just saying it is time to make my marriage a priority again. To talk with my best friend about more than taxes, school schedules and grocery lists. We used to sit and dream together, wonder what the universe would offer us. I want those times back and I believe it is up to me to initiate it.

Week 33


2009
09.27

I read in my baby book that Week 33 involves some sort of growth spurt for my little pumpkin. If you look back on Week 31, you’ll see I went from pregnant! to PREGNANT! I will say that while I am getting lots of comments about looking “really ready” this week has brought some good things. I am finally starting to feel like my heart is ready for baby Elijah. I have had tons of dreams about him and I can’t wait to see what he looks like. Also, given my history of big babies and my current size, if Eli isn’t at least an 8 or 9 pounder…I got a lot of explaining to do (involving entire containers of ice cream).

 

week-33

The nesting has begun and I have been organizing and cooking. To be sure, I have yet to purchase a single baby item or put any of the borrowed/donated baby items I have received into any sort of organized form - but the rest of the house is getting ready for baby. I will get started on that part after my shower next week.

week-33-and-isaac

week-33-and-josh

 

Note to you ladies who swear you are “done” having babies. Unless you have done something surgical to ensure that…don’t give away all of your baby stuff. The minute you do, two pink lines are going to show up on a home pregnancy test…guaranteed.

Week 31 - A week ago


2009
09.21

week-31

This picture is over a week old, as I am 32 plus weeks now - I am even bigger this week and will post an update tomorrow. For the time being, please note that my belly is quickly dropping….dear goodness I have a feeling I will have it resting on my thighs in no time. Pregnancy is b-ea-utiful and oh so sexy!

Just Write


2009
08.18

Writing is my passion, my release, my salve. If I could find a way for it to pay the bills, I would. However, if that were the case there would be no such use for the term “starving artist.” Actually, I have never fancied myself to be artistic. I can’t sing, paint, draw or manage to create anything crafty beyond the 2nd grade level. I guess I’ve discounted writing as art, my brain housing only one definition of artistic and writing wasn’t in the small print. It is time for that definition to change.

 

When I was little and unbound by my definitions, I used to be very creative. I would make collages, I would build houses filled with happy people out of construction paper and old shoeboxes. I would marvel at my handiwork. I would spend hours hunched over a desk, no use for a clock, creating. As I grew, I looked around and saw that others were better than me at drawing, creating tangible art. I assumed that meant I wasn’t artistic or destined to be creative. I put down my markers, my colorful paper. I spent the next twenty years, hidden away in other peoples creative visions - books. I was friends with librarians, I would read 50 books a year. I learned to love words and how they can be spun together like wool to make a story that covers you, if only for a moment.

 

I would hide my visions away in notebooks meant for my eyes only. I called them journals and I wrote to no audience in particular. Fiction wasn’t for me, the story was always the same. Telling life as I see it, looking for the turquoise blue in my hands full of  life’s sea glass, that came natural. Still, until I started this blog, it was only for me and I often judged the quality of the words before they spilled onto the paper.

 

Yet, when I think about what has always driven me, what has always inspired me and filled my soul, the answer falls like silver coins from a slot machine and fills the floor around me: write. There is art in words. I am an artist.

For Such A Time As This


2009
08.10

On my commute, I glance at the clouds. They are lined up, with the sun behind them, looking like lighted rails. As though some cosmic train could come barreling down them, whistle blowing, at any moment. As this pregnancy enters it’s third and final stage, I find myself caught up in moments like this. Where all is still and calm and I am lost in thought. Other times, most of the time, I am doing the opposite of cloud gazing. I am the train, barreling down, whistle blowing. SWIM LESSONS! LUNCHES PACKED! DRY CLEANING! SCHOOL SUPPLIES! I SAID GO TO BED NOW-STOP ARGUING-EAT YOUR CARROTS!

 

Life as a mother and wife can eat you alive. There is always something to do, someone for whom to do it. Glimpses of clarity, the girl you once were - flip flops and pig tails - come out of nowhere and leave you stunned. How did I get here? I never thought the last words before my love and I fell asleep would be, “make sure you get the dry cleaning tomorrow” and “did you set the coffee machine for 6:15?” I don’t know when the transformation occurred, it seems like yesterday I was driving too fast in my Volkswagen, No Doubt blaring on the radio, with a Big Gulp of Diet Coke perched perilously between my legs as I reached to shift to 5th gear.

 

Now, I wear cardigans. I keep extra sweaters in my car in case the weather changes. I drive a car with three rows and I think to myself, I need to switch the clothes in the washer over to the dryer before I go to bed so that they don’t smell like mildew, while I am applying anti-aging moisturizer. My best days now are not filled with Big Gulps, rock bands and tanning beds. They are spent chasing my kids around a swing set, hearing Joshua say “I cozy you Mama” and grasping my husbands hand in church, turning our fingers over to see that after all these years it still feels the same.

 

Somewhere between 2 hours of pushing, midnight feedings and mortgages, I grew up. As we prepare to open our hearts and lives to another child, I will admit I am a little scared of loosing a bit more of the pig tailed girl who drives too fast. I am more scared however, of looking back twenty years from now and missing the 30 something woman who knew what it felt like to soothe a two year old Joshie in the middle of the night, walk a 5 year old Isaac to his first day of kindergarten and feel the subtle movement of a precious child in my swollen belly.

 

It is so easy to look back and say “what if” about our lives and experiences. I want to know that I am here, in this moment for a reason, for a season of time. While I am here, I will collect every memory of my young children and hold it tight for this too,  much like the transmission on that old Volkswagen, will eventually become a memory.

Fire Saftey and 80’s trends


2009
08.10

Flashback Monday: Here I am demonstrating that even a 10 year old girl can operate this handy fire safety system. I am guessing this was somewhere around 1987 and as you can clearly see, shoulder pads were all the rage. I know you’re jealous.

 

 

shoulder-pads1

Golden


2009
07.10

Ten years later, I lay in bed sleepily scratching a boys’ back. He isn’t you, but he has your eyes. He’s one third your size and he calls me Mama. He’s just one of almost three. I’ve never loved you more.

 

Ten years ago today, we said “I do.” We were children. Children with high hopes and love glowing in our hearts like a fire. A decade later, the love is immensley more precious, deep. You convinced me to marry you, asking not once but three times before the ring “stuck” as we like to say. People thought we were foolish. I think we knew what we had all the way back then, even if words couldn’t define it. They still can’t.

 

kev-and-jenn

 

You know you make me laugh. Always have. That is the way you tunneled into my serious and awkwardly beating heart. I didn’t know what unconditional love was, we both know this is something with which I still struggle. But you know, you had it presented to you like a shiny object to a two year old and you held on tight. Thank you for sharing that with me. Sometimes I fumble with it but know that I am always trying. Love flows easy from your soul Kevin, God made you gentle and caring. Sometimes this makes me crazy. Sometimes I want you to be as jaded as I am, yet you refuse. Don’t ever stop refusing, your joy is a lifejacket for my serious and contemplative soul.

 

We fight. Oh boy how we fight. Often about things inconsequential, sometimes about things larger than life. Yet, there is a line we silently do not cross, we are married and we will be until forever. I knew this from our second kiss. Sounds strange, but it wasn’t the first one that got me. Apparently I am not easily convinced of anything. As I drove away, hands trembling and heart flying, I knew that something significant had just changed, part of me was still in your arms. Ten years later, I’m still there.

 

kev-and-jenn2

 

You are never on time. You try to please everyone around you, often infuriating me. That is the reality of you. But I will take it because it comes with so much more. Your heart is wide open, your grace for those around you abundant, your desire to be my only, evident. All those years ago, I couldn’t have imagined the man you would become. Standing on that stage, staring into your blue eyes, the future was a question mark. A blank page yet to be written with our story. Now, I see how God has blessed me beyond measure with not just my Kevie, but a son of God whose possibility for growth and change is infinite in His hands. You are a work of art that I hope to always have within my reach, as each year I see a new aspect of your beautiful mystery.

 

You are so good with showing me that you love me. You tell me, you touch me, you pay attention to me. I am busy. Ridiculously busy and often inattentive. I know I put  a snotty nose that needs to be wiped or a story that needs to be read before you. It is the “mom” in me. However, I hope that you see my love and respect for who you are and how lucky I am, is best expressed in words written. Sometimes I need the keyboard and some quiet time to tell you how I really feel. How much, I really love you.

 

Happy Anniversary my love. Here’s to two kids who fell in love and never looked back. May our story be long and our house continue to be filled with laughter. You are my sunshine Kevin Thomas.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall


2009
07.02

My littlest sister moved in with us a couple of weeks ago. She is going to start college in August and be our part time nanny for the boys. So far it is going well. However, having a teenager in the house takes some getting used to. It has forced me to look at how I view life. Obviously, a lot changes between 17 and 32 and learning to relate to the person in your house who sees the world through those 17 year old eyes can be trying.

 

The other night we were sitting on the couch and Kenna asked me if I was happy. Seemed like an odd question so I just looked at her blankly. She then proceeded to tell me that I appear as though I am unhappy, or not really enjoying my life.

 

Yikes.

 

I realize that my personality lends itself to the “all business” attitude most of the time. I like projects and I always have multiple on my mind. Whatever I am doing, even if it is changing Joshie’s diaper, I am thinking about the next task I have to accomplish. I think this type of living has led me to have a fairly clean house and an organized life. But am I really living? Does one really “live” when you are managing a full time job, two children, a household and a pregnancy? Am I really “managing” any of these things or is that just an illusion?

 

Clearly her off handed comment about how I appear to the outside world wormed its way into my brain and laid eggs. I don’t know that it would have, had I not heard this comment from multiple people over the years.  Now,  I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I appear unhappy. I want to be happy, I want to be the kind of person who other people consider fun to be around. I think I am just too busy for that. Or too serious. Or too determined to get everything done. With most things that bother me, I find a solution and get about changing course. However, with this one I am stumped. How do you appear more happy or joyful? I guess the answer is to BE more happy and joyful. What if that just isn’t me though? What if my personality just doesn’t lend itself to that type of outward expression? Is that why I have so much gray hair?

 

I guess the real question is how do I take my very real responsibilities to children and my husband and house and let them go enough to take time to enjoy life? I am content, I love my family, I love our life. However, I realize I let me get in the way of having fun a lot of the time. They say that having children under the age of 5 is one of the most stressful times in a woman’s life. I believe it. I am living it. When I really think about it though, I was kinda like this in college, long before Isaac or Joshua were even a thought. I mean business. I can laugh too, I can even be funny but it has never been really natural for me to be footloose and fancy free. I am not the person you call for the last minute road trip to Las Vegas. I am the girl you call to help plan your very scheduled baby shower.

 

The question beating in my head like a drum is… did I become this kind of girl over time or did I start out this way? What if I had a conscious choice? Would I still be this way? Would you?


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