January 1, 2014 by Jolene

To the year ahead

Happy New Year, friends.

We rang it in by… Okay, we didn’t ring it in at all. We were sound asleep. I’m still recovering from a nasty stomach bug and Jon worked until 3 a.m. the night before and was toast. Party animals we were not.

I love the start of a new year, that sense of a fresh start and the expectation of things to come. A new year makes me feel optimistic, with its wide open possibilities.

Our family has some big decisions ahead of us in the next few months. There’s a lot of unknown in our 2014. Uncertainty is typically not my favorite thing, but I am learning in these situations to take it one step at a time and trust the One who knows the future. And whatever this new year holds, I know exactly how blessed I am. I look at my tired, overworked husband and my perpetually snotty-nosed kids, and I know that this life – this messy, imperfect, uncertain life – is more than I could have asked.

So for all of us, here’s to 2014, with its inevitable highs and lows, disappointments and joys. May we know God better and be a little more like Him, may we find His strength when we need it, and may we find the beauty He has for us here in the nitty-gritty everyday.

December 27, 2013 by Jolene

Better late than never

From us to you:

Stationery Card

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December 20, 2013 by Jolene

Finding the oxygen

The holidays around here are a mixture of delight and insanity. I spend the last week or so before Christmas totally under water. This year, my cards are likely to be post-Christmas greetings for a fair portion of my list. I paid someone to deep clean my house on Wednesday, but by today, my floors were already gross again. There is an extensive list of items I was supposed to complete today that never happened. Half the string of lights beautifying my living room burned out, just in time for our first family event here tomorrow.

It’s 6:10 p.m. My sweet husband is preparing supper, because I have had zero time for food prep. Lina is sitting in my lap, wheezing with every breath, thanks to a nasty cold she got from yours truly, who got it from Corin, who is still coughing. Someone in this house has been sick since September. I don’t understand it, but I will tell you that after the holiday, we will be purging this house of sugar, going to bed early and avoiding anyone who appears to be thinking about sneezing. (As if that last one is possible.)

So yeah – when we have a moment to surface for air, we find ourselves wondering, like so many of you, how this became the pace of our lives. I don’t exactly know the answer. I am finding some ways to start simplifying, thanks to girlfriends who are reminding me to lower my expectations. Like, really lower them. I’m trying.

And also, there really are so many moments of magic crammed into these crazy days. It’s how I can still love this time of year. There was making gingerbread cookies with Corin yesterday (admittedly followed by over-tired tantrums). There are the repeated readings of favorite versions of the Christmas story. (Mortimer’s Christmas Manger is currently Corin’s favorite, while Humphrey’s First Christmas continues to be mine.) There was Corin’s excitement about delivering packages of cookies to the neighbors earlier this evening. There is Lina tangling herself up in Christmas lights and exploring the ornaments on the bottom of the tree. There is the music, which I love so truly. Those moments are the deep breaths of oxygen in these underwater days.

So, here we go: The Christmas home stretch. I’m going to try to find a little more of this kind of wonder.

December 8, 2013 by Jolene

Christmas time is here

The decorations are (mostly) up and the Christmas season is in full swing around here. Every year, Corin understands more and gets more into the anticipation and joy of the season. Now we get to watch that process unfold with Lina, too, who I know is going to totally dig the wrapping paper this year. I look at our holiday traditions and decorations in a new way, hoping that I am creating for my kids the kind of magic I remember from my childhood Christmases.

We have daily conversations with Corin about why we celebrate Christmas, and it’s awesome to see how much he absorbs. Truthfully, every year I absorb more of that greatest story, the shocking truth of God in helpless, newborn form. I know there is a lot about modern Christmas to lament – rampant commercialism, hectic schedules, extra stress… But this past week or so, as I’ve talked to Corin and read him various versions of the Christmas story, I’ve thought a lot about what that night in the stable must have been like. Teaching it to Corin has made it so real to me. Omnipotent God became one of us, purest love from first division of cells to ultimate sacrifice. You could easily spend a lifetime trying to wrap your head around that one. I dislike “reason for the season” cliches, and really, I don’t have the words for what the Christmas story means to me. I can say that I love this time of year.

I owe Thanksgiving pictures, but they are a bit sparse this year. My camera battery ran low and I forgot to pack the charger. We are left with Thanksgiving 2013 via iPhone and Instagram. There was a mild stomach bug for Corin and me, but it was still a very enjoyable holiday weekend with family in North Georgia. My mother-in-law puts on an enormous feast, and I pitched in where I could. It was lovely.

October 14, 2013 by Jolene

Snapshots of Corin

Corin spends a lot of time playing with matchbox cars, trains, custom-designed Lego airplanes, Little People buses, bulldozers and monster trucks. If you ask him what he wants to be when he grows up, he’ll tell you, “A monster truck driver.” He’s a transportation kind of kid. But lately, he’s also taken to climbing atop the ottoman in the living room and proclaiming loudly, “The God of heaven loves you because he is God. Amen?” He will continue repeating, “Amen?” until he gets a response. Then he’ll move on to a new, similar proclamation, with a new demand for an amen from the congregation. It cracks me up. Lina thinks it’s magnificent.

—

Jon and I were trying last night to teach Corin about jokes. We were not terribly successful, mostly because neither of us knows many jokes or is very good at telling the two we do know.

Me: Here, Corin, let’s learn a knock-knock joke. Knock, knock. Now you say, “Who’s there?”

Corin: Who’s there? Knock, knock.

Me: No, I say knock, knock. Just say, “Who’s there?”

Corin: Who’s there?

Me: Banana. Knock, knock.

Jon: *Shaking his head* You forgot, “Banana who?”

Me: Oh, right. Let’s try again.

I will spare you the rest of our tortured path to “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?” By that point, Corin was understandably lost. He attempted the joke a couple times today and managed to get surprisingly close, considering the mangled teaching process. We tried looking up some jokes online, but the humor clearly flew over his head. When we came to the one about the skunk in the courtroom (“Odor in the court”), Corin just wanted to know whether it was a real skunk. Apparently, jokes are a bit advanced for 3 1/2. Or 34, in my case.

—

One of the challenges to being a full-time parent is that I don’t get regular performance reviews. No one sits me down and says, “You did a great job this quarter meeting the goals we’d laid out. You went above and beyond on these major projects. Here are your strengths, and here are some areas to work on. You’re a great asset, and we couldn’t do this without you. Oh, and here’s a raise to show you how much we appreciate your hard work.”

To be fair, my husband tells me often what a great wife and mother I am and how much he appreciates what I do for our family. But there are definitely times when it feels like a rather lonely and exhausting slog, with no real goal posts to measure my accomplishments. The laundry is never really finished; no matter how many meals I make, those kids always get hungry again; and nothing ever stays clean for more than a couple hours.

Which makes moments like this one yesterday truly priceless. Corin and I took a trip to Home Depot for some DIY and fall landscaping supplies while daddy stayed home with Lina. As we walked past fragrant stacks of lumber and homeless front doors, he suddenly burst out with, “Mommy? I’m glad you’re my mommy.”

And there it was. The best performance review I’ve ever gotten, in one sentence. No raise necessary.

I smiled and said, “And I’m so, so glad you’re my little boy.” He squeezed my leg hard, and I headed for the pansies and mums, absolutely certain this is the best job there is.

September 20, 2013 by Jolene

She’s the apple of our eye

Lina’s birthday weekend, in photos

Did you SEE what he just did? I am so embarrassed.

Cake!

And a little video of the birthday song

(She did eat the cake and enjoyed it very much.)

Photos and video courtesy my brother, Ryan Harrell. Thanks for being the designated shooter, Ryan!

September 5, 2013 by Jolene

A little daddy

Corin has been talking a lot about being a daddy. He tells me he’s a daddy who’s still a little boy. I think he is trying to say he’s a daddy-in-waiting.

Yesterday, he said he is definitely going to have a little boy, but he wasn’t sure if he was going to have a little girl. I told him little girls were a lot of fun, too, and he decided that yes, he wanted a little boy and a little girl. He asks a lot about family relationships and is starting to get clear how it all works. Last night, I heard from the living room, “Lina, when I have a little boy, I will be his daddy, and you will be his aunt.”

The one part of the equation that remains fuzzy is the concept of a wife. He is unclear on which member of our family will be his children’s mother. I heard Jon explaining to him last night that he would marry someone from a different family. I think he’s still mulling that over.

Frankly, I’m content with this state of affairs. There will come a day when I’m no longer queen of my son’s heart, but I hope it’s a good, long way off yet. Somewhere, another family is likely raising a little girl who will capture Corin’s heart and share his life. Someday, she may be the mother of those children he already imagines. I pray for her sometimes, and for her parents. I pray that they are raising a strong, smart, capable woman of character, someone who will be fun and interesting, kind and unselfish, godly but not pious, a well-matched partner and companion for my son. I’m not holding back on the list of stellar qualities, and so I pray that I will help Corin become the kind of man that girl will want to marry.

For now, I love that he wants to be a daddy someday. As for that little girl: she can wait her turn.

August 19, 2013 by Jolene

Mommy Guilt, amplified

Mommy Guilt is such a real part of having kids. Every mom I’ve talked to experiences it. Some of us really struggle with it. Some of us are able to more easily relegate it to the back of our minds, where it only tickles occasionally. Every kind of mom wonders sometimes if maybe that other kind of mom knows something she doesn’t. Every mom falls short of her own expectations pretty regularly and worries that it has affected her kids. All of us go through phases where survival feels like the best we can do, and we’re not at all sure it’s enough.

I am realizing that having a child with special needs introduces a whole new level of Mommy Guilt. Therapy appointments at this age are really more about me than they are about Lina. The therapists are certainly keeping a close eye on her to evaluate how she’s progressing and which areas we need to be focusing on. But appointments are also about the therapist showing me activities we can be doing at home to support her development. Without the work at home, therapy would be pretty pointless. Two hours a month isn’t going to change the trajectory of Lina’s development. The thing is, I don’t feel like I have a solid grasp of exactly how much time we should spend on these activities, and I worry constantly that I’m not doing enough. Sometimes I go several days without reading a book to Lina. I had a hard time typing that, because it feels like such an awful admission. It would almost be easier if the therapists would write out a specific prescription: “Spend 20 minutes every day on this list of activities and come back in two weeks.” Then at least I’d know for sure how far short I was falling.

I worried some (and still do) about these things with Corin. That mom uses alphabet flash cards. Should I buy flash cards? But really, I’ve been pretty comfortable with my methods. I’ve read enough about the problems of hyper-parenting that I felt my more laid-back approach was probably just about right. We have worked learning into our everyday activities, and it seems to be working.

Then came Lina. With her, the stakes are so much higher. I know she needs a more hands-on approach, and learning and development for her is a very deliberate process. I can’t assume she’ll learn how to crawl and walk and talk and read when she’s ready, as I have with Corin. She needs my help with these skills, and I know how much her future success depends on my ability to be her first teacher and strongest advocate: always pushing, always encouraging, always equipping. Imagine, then, how much louder that voice in my head is that asks, But what if I fail? What if in my effort to balance the needs of two kids, the house and life in general, I’m not giving Lina everything she needs?

Thankfully, I’m a mostly-balanced and reasonable person who knows that Lina is doing well and making very good progress. I know that amidst all I have to juggle in a day, I spend a great deal of time talking to her, playing games and working on her gross and fine motor skills. Yes, I have to be more deliberate about the work I’m doing with her. But I’m also realizing how much of the intuitive play we do with babies is actually promoting development. For example, the speech therapist talks about how key back-and-forth babble is. Lina says “Da-da-da,” and who really has to stop and think before repeating back, “Da-da-da?” It’s natural, and it’s key to helping her understand communication. We talk to her constantly, up close where she can hear us clearly. We really do try to read to her every day. And yes, judgmental voice in my head, the time she spends sitting and playing on her own with her toys is also promoting development.

Not that any of this completely silences that Mommy Guilt voice. I am working to lower the volume, but I don’t know if I’ll ever figure out how to entirely turn it off. I’m probably going to keep worrying that I’m not spending enough time in structured therapy activities. I’m probably going to see the moms with flash cards and wonder every time if I should go to Amazon right now and order my set, quick-before-I-forget. (I actually think we’ll probably use flash cards with Lina at some point, but not, you know, before she’s a year old.) Life is a constant juggling act, and I don’t know that I’ll ever have the balance just right. Most days, I can live with that.

July 12, 2013 by Jolene

Independence Day, overdue

Our Fourth of July was pretty low-key. It had been raining for days and was terribly soggy, so we decided to skip any big fireworks shows in favor of a good dinner with friends and family and a few sparklers for Corin. Our neighbors upped the ante with some fun home pyrotechnics, which predictably terrified my cautious son. He’ll still tell you about how he didn’t like that one big BOOM, which he makes sound very impressive, indeed.