A milestone...

Last week, I wrote a post to My Little Dude on his 2nd birthday. This birthday was kinda a big deal. A big deal that wasn't fully registered until Sunday. (And then it really wasn't processed until yesterday)

Turning 2 meant my Boy Bean adventured out of the baby nursery...and on to the toddler side. He is now in an actual Sunday School class. He's with big kids. He is in the same class as Bitty Bean. And he LOVED it. (So I gather, he still isn't saying much)

But it was oddly challenging for me. This is why: Sunday was the first day in 7 and a half years that I didn't put a baby in the baby nursery. You would think it wouldn't be challenging - and it wasn't.  But it was. It is like every single phase - full of hope and excitement and nervousness for what will come; tinged with sadness knowing certain things will never happen again with my sweet beans.

I know the day is coming - speeding towards me - where my little beans won't be little. When they will no longer need to be tucked in at night. When their soft, little hands won't seek mine when they are nervous, or frightened, or scared. The diaper bag is being replaced with the backpack, the ballet bag, and sports gear.

In fact, this Sunday was full of another milestone - our String Bean had her ears pierced. She's growing up too. She's no longer that little baby girl I knew.

And I'm happy. I'm thankful for the gift of watching my little people grow up. I ache for those who don't have any more moments to hope for in this life.

And I'm sad. Because these next moments will disappear as fast as the last ones...maybe faster. I will turn around one day, and these sweet little ones that fill all my moments and need me and want me...they will no longer be little. They will be off on their own adventures and I'll be left with them filling my heart and not my home. They will be capable to handle their needs and, hopefully, some of their wants.

How do they grow so fast?

I'm also sad because I know there will be numerous milestones reached over the next year  - and My Love will miss them. When he returns from his deployment, most likely, every child will be in a new phase. And we won't get those seconds back.

Parenthood, such a perfect pairing of happy and sad. 

Of overflowing, heartbreaking, LOVE.

~Whitney
 Copyright 2013

Miracles are happening!

So, this post might not interest a single soul. But I don't care. I want to write down what I'm feeling; what I experienced; how my world has been rocked - because I want to remember this.

Last picture with glasses

I am blind as a bat. 

Well, I was.

I have been that way forever. I picked out my first pair of glasses the week before I turned 10. Thankfully, that was back before everything was digital....so I don't have a million pictures to document my awesome glasses. (At least I thought they were awesome!)  They were seafoam green with purple splotches...and they enabled me to discover there actually ARE individual leaves at the tops of trees. (They weren't just a green blob at the top!) I could read stop signs and road signs and even billboards through those amazing spectacles. I felt like I possessed a miracle.

Then, when I was 16, I was finally able to have contacts. Another amazing world opened up - sunglasses!  I didn't have to wipe my contacts dry if I was caught in the rain. I could even lay down on my side and watch tv. (It's the little things people)

But back in November of 2011 - I had a horrible eye infection. I was not allowed to drive - at all - for 6 weeks. They honestly didn't know if my eyes would ever be able to heal and recover from the damage that had been done.  I was on steroids and antibiotics and anti-inflammatory eye drops from November of 2011 until November 2012.  I was not allowed to wear contacts - I had to be very careful to not re-injure my eyes. I had always hoped I would be able to have eye surgery...but with the infection and the scarring that resulted, it seemed like a very long shot. 

Then, in December - last month - my Opthamologist said the most amazing words, "Your eyes have healed enough. We can evaluate you for Lasik."

I cried. I laughed. I was an emotional basket case. 

Thankfully, I've become pretty great friends with him over the last year - and his wife is pregnant - so he wasn't freaked out by my water-works at all.
I mean, I was crying, and he hadn't even said I could have the surgery.
I was just finally healthy enough to be evaluated for the surgery.

So, 2 weeks later, I was back at the office. Being put through test after test. Being grilled about my health. Nervously awaiting the verdict. Would my eyes be able to have the surgery? Could I do it?

YES.

I cried again.

I was so excited and so overwhelmed at the idea of getting up to pee in the night and not walking into a wall - I couldn't help but cry.

All of this brings me to yesterday. 

Yesterday was the day of my miracle.
Of sight.

I'll admit - I wasn't so very worried about the laser. I was, however, pretty nervous about the valium. I don't take meds. Like, ever. So I had no idea of how I would respond to the valium. I was worried it would make me nauseous or dizzy or break out in hives. Thankfully, it just made me really, really, REALLY, silly. (Which, if you know me, is saying something.)  

going "pink" for our Ladies Christmas party

The Doctor was very kind and came in to verbally walk me through the procedure before it all went down. It sounded so simple. So quick. No big deal. Which kinda made me feel stupid for having my stomach flipping upside down in knots. (Note - HE didn't make me feel stupid, that was all me.)

They put my hair in one of those super-sexy-doctor-hair-net-thingys....and off I walked down the hall to the procedure room. (I don't have a picture. My bad.)

I handed the Doctor my glasses, placed them in his blurry hand, and laid down.  The entire room was blurry. The lights, the machine, the Doctor's hands which were just inches from my face.

Listen - when I say I was blind, I mean it. You know that BIG "E" on the eye chart? I couldn't see it. It was just a slightly gray fuzzy area with white fuzz around it.  I was blind. I walked into walls. My vision could not even be corrected to 20/20 with glasses or contacts. 

I laid back on the bed, and slid under the machine's arm.  A piece of plastic holding my eyelid still. A blinking light. No moving for 8 seconds. Remove. Repeat. Some tape on all lashes. A tool on my eyeball. Hold still for 20 seconds. Noise. Smelling smoke. Remove. Repeat.
Then I sat up.
And I could see.
I could SEE.

The doctor was not a blurry mass. He was a person. He helped me off the table - we walked out of the room, and they took my picture. And I could SEE the camera. I didn't just look in the general direction of the camera - I looked AT the camera.

And I cried.
I cried when they told me it was normal for it to blurry - for it to look like I was looking through water. I cried because it was so much clearer than that. Already it looked as clear as if I was looking through dirty glasses. Where less than 10 minutes earlier everything was a blur - it was just slightly soft edges. When he checked my eyes - for the first time I can ever remember - I could actually SEE the ear I was supposed to be looking at.
So, I cried.

On the way home, I laughed. With wild, valium induced, abandon.  I was shocked at how heavy my eyelids were. I could not stop laughing!  And giggling.  Once home, I slept for 2 hours, and then was good to go. 100% ready for normal life.

 After I woke up from my nap. (Please ignore the Boy Bean snot on my shoulder)

Now, I'm sporting these AWESOME protective goggles for 7 days - round the clock - and seeing clearer than I ever have. At my post-op my vision was 20/20 in my right eye and 20/15 in my left. Absolutely amazing.
I'll admit, it is odd to not think about glasses or contacts. I've worn those things for 21 years...and I feel slightly odd without them.
The best part about the goggles? People at church last night didn't even think something was up. They thought I was dressing up or doing something silly and the goggles were just a part of my get up!

Maybe the girl rockin' the seafoam green glasses is who I will always be. :)

~Whitney
 Copyright 2013

a recap...

Normally I don't do recaps. (I mean, who really cares about what we did a while ago??) But, since this blog is, pretty much, just about what we do in our lives....I guess a periodic recap now and again is okay. ;)

I have to say, the Advent box was a decent success. I mean, the kids got into it, and less than half ended up as epic fails.  (See how the fondue went down)

Sunday, the 23rd, was a wild success.

The directions were 

"Have dinner like the shepherds! Sit on the floor in front of the fireplace and eat finger food while wearing head coverings."

The kids were ECSTATIC at that idea.

So, dinner found us sitting on a picnic blanket in the living room....

munching on greek olives, hummus, fresh bread, cucumber slices, cherry tomatoes, grapes, and goat cheese...sporting various scarves on our heads.

We of course had to have "shepherdy" names....

My Love was Shepherd Bob; I was Shepherdess Leah; String Bean, Jumping Bean, and Bitty Bean became Shepherdesses Louise, Lucy, and Carly, respectively.

Poor Boy Bean didn't say what he wanted - so we dubbed him Shepherd Hog...since he was double fisting the grapes. :)

We sat talking about what it would be like to be a shepherd when the angel's came...

we would have been FREAKED out.

It was really a blast.

Then we played charades.

Entire movie scenes were acted out.  The above picture is a scene of the whale in "Finding Nemo" about to swallow Marlin and Dory.

Jumping Bean was various animals....

String Bean was typically acting out entire plot lines....and once was a roach.

Bitty Bean was her go-to critter....a cat. She gets on all 4's and Meows.

Then she was Ariel. :)

This was the first time Boy Bean got in on the action - and he actually was a monkey! (we think)

Overall, it was a wonderful night filled with laughs....but the best part for me was at the very end. All 6 of us were piled on the couch reading a children's version of the Nativity Story...Boy Bean kept saying "ook, ook" at every. single. item. AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS. So, I would answer, "that is a donkey - ee-aw ee-aw. That is a camel - spit spit. That is a cow - moo, moo."
Then, Jumping Bean who has her doctorate in annoying noises, start mumble-humming in a high-pitched squeal.
Then Bitty Bean, who only has her master's in annoying little sister antics, started poking a sibling and smacking her head against My Love's chest.
Then String Bean became HIGHLY annoyed at her poorly behaved siblings - because she couldn't hear the story My Love was reading.
Then My Love became highly annoyed at all people and looked like he was contemplating throwing the book across the room.
And at that moment, when a silent night where all is calm and bright seemed like a myth, precisely then, I leaned up to My Love and whispered in his ear -

Thank you so much that I don't have to Home school!

Merry Christmas!
Happy 2013!

~Whitney
 Copyright 2013

To My Little Dude....

Boy,

I love you.

I love your fire for life.

I love your stubbornness.

I love your bright eyes.

I love your sloppy kisses.

I love your dimple in your right cheek.

I love your sticky fingers.

I love your hearty belly laugh.

I love how completely masculine you are.

How you automatically jump to the rescue of your sisters and your mama.

I love watching your Daddy play with you.

I love you.

All of you. 

From your sleep-walking-into-doors, random roaring,  ready smile, and death stare - I love it all.

When you decided to make your entrance 2 years ago - I didn't know how utterly different things would be with a boy. Seeing the differences has deepened my love for all 4 of you children.

Your birth was not what I had envisioned - but it was perfectly you.  Funny, spontaneous, calm, crazy.

I don't know where these last 2 years have gone, but I'm pretty sure I spent at least 50% either changing diapers, feeding, or parenting. :)  I'll admit, I'm nervous about the upcoming year with Daddy gone. You are so much of him, parenting without him is going to be extra hard.

I can't believe you insist on growing up! I wore you in a sling or a back pack constantly...hoping it would delay your walking. (Not really!) But on this day last year - you took your first step. At your Great-Grandpa's funeral. It seemed so fitting that as one passed away, a little one took literal steps toward independence.

Your vocabulary is/was very limited...primarily filled with grunts and pointing....since you have 3 sisters talking for you. But the flood gates opened in October when you learned a key word (you already said "mama," "dada," "No," and "NOOOOOOOOOO!")  POOP. That is right. Poop. Somehow, being able to say that word opened the door for all sorts of other words. Now, you rarely say them in public...but I'll take whatever I can get.

All in all, my sweet baby boy, this mama loves you.

Your mischievous grin, blond hair, he-man walk, monkey dance, and eye-popping anger (that will most likely need meds or therapy) - I love it all. 

Some days you will not be very happy with me - with the rules, with the responsibilities, when I tell you no. And that is okay.

But know that no matter what you feel about me - my love for you will never change. 

I will always love you.  

And potentially embarrass you. 

But definitely love you. 

Mama

~Whitney Copyright 2012

Psycho

I love being Mama.

LOVE it.

But.

This last week, I would have really, really, really liked to have a substitute. A stand-in. A wife-of-my-own.

I've had my fill cleaning up bodily fluids....all 5 of us had the flu. It was awful. TERRIBLE.
I'm tired of comforting someone else while concentrating to re-lift my eye-lids.
I'm tired of waking up every 30 minutes dealing with someone's nightmares.
I'm tired.
Really, REALLY tired.

And I'm tired of laundry.
24 loads in one week...and one still on deck.
(For some strange reason, I thought it would be interesting to keep a running tally of how much laundry I had to do when the flu hit our house. The jury is out on if this was encouraging or demoralizing.)

In fact, I'm so very tired of laundry....that I might have gone slightly psycho today.

My Bitty Bean - whom I love, even though she is still allergic to pooping in the toilet - fell asleep in the car on the way to piano lessons.

After String Bean raced inside, and Jumping Bean unbuckled, and I unloaded Boy Bean (who had to be carried because his shoes were miraculously eaten by the Swagger Wagon), I went out to wake the sleeping munchkin.

She had an accident.
All over her princess dress.
All over her car seat.
Into her brand new running shoes.

I didn't have a spare outfit, or shirt, or anything.
No panties.
NOTHING.

So with 3 wipes and a too-small-diaper stolen from her brother, I cleaned her up and covered her business.  But it was chilly tonight - she got pee on her jacket - I couldn't just let her go naked!

Typically, at least one of the girls is wearing numerous layers and could spare some article of clothing; not this time.  I was wearing my basic workout pants and top...although they were not worked out in today. (gotta stay honest)

I gave her my shirt. She thought that was the funniest thing EVER.

Then I zipped my fleece up to the very top. 

As I was placing Bitty Bean's soaking wet things in a bag, I just started crying.
I honestly don't really know why.
It could be because I'm tired.
Or because I didn't want to have to go home and do dinner and clean up and homework and bed time. Or maybe because I feel extremely behind schedule because of when the flu hit.

But no, I am pretty sure I was crying because I didn't want to do any more laundry.

I had spent most of my day rescuing the house from our illness...but when we returned it was still a wreck.

Dishes.

Laundry.

And one very industrious 5 year old who thought decorating the kid table with a pencil was a good idea.

We danced through dinner. (A complete cop-out for me, I made pancakes.)
Then we all snuggled down in blankets on the floor and watched Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer as dictated by our Advent Calendar/shoe box.

And you know what?

I love being Mama.

LOVE IT.  :)




~Whitney Copyright 2012

Fear

I'm about to open up a scary can of worms.

About myself.
About separations.
About fear.

I try to keep a good face on separations and deployments - we picked this life, we knew this would be part of it, we've even had an easy time of it compared with most families.
But the truth? Well, sometimes you can't plaster a smile on.  Sometimes, even though I answer "fine" - it is only because I know you can't fully grasp...or don't really care to know...the full answer.

How are you?
Fine.
Such a tossed-around question. So rarely meant.

How ARE you?
For real.

For real?
For real, there are times fear grips my soul and I toss, sleepless, even though I'm exhausted.
Fear? Of what?
Fear of the unknown. Fear of the known. Fears for safety.
I don't know a military wife who hasn't had to grapple with the idea of someone knocking on their door. The fact that a normal part of life is updating wills and talking about what to do if he dies before he returns. Now, the odds are definitely in our favor - but the possibility is still there.
Sometimes I'm overwhelmed and tired and it doesn't matter because I must keep pushing.
Fear of failing on my end of this team. Of letting down the Beans, letting down My Love.
Sometimes I just reside in the land of "If." A place of unknown, no peace, and unrest.
Most days I can fight it.
Most days I'm not fearful.
But there are nights.
Nights that just seem to be laden with fear.
Sometimes I want to cry - even though I don't have it that bad.
Or even bad at all.
I know the truth....

2 Timothy 1:7 - 

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, 

but of power and of love and of a sound mind

Just some days it is harder to remember the truth.

How am I?
Tired.
Lonely.
I'm surrounded by people all day - people I love! But the nights are hard. The meal time battles, the baths, the homework, the bed time routine, the kitchen clean up, the laundry, it is just a lot to do. I'm not the first person - or the last - to go through this, but it is a lot. Some nights are easy.  Some are not. Some nights go according to plan...and then you have nights where you can't tuck a child in on time because they are crying over missing their daddy. Kissing his picture isn't good enough. And it falls on me to help their 3 year old heart understand and ease the ache. When something comes up with a boy and they need Daddy's perspective. . . all they get is me. When they wake up screaming from bad dreams - screaming for Daddy...they get me.
It is just hard.
And I have it easy. I am fortunate to be surrounded by friends who are like family. I even have family locally! I have an amazing community I can rely on...and it is still hard.

Sometimes I lie and say everything is great - because I don't have the time or energy to say otherwise. Sometimes I lie and say everything is great - because the person asking doesn't have the time to hear the real answer.
Sometimes I tell the truth and say everything is great - because it REALLY is.
Some days are easy.
Some days are hard - but it is easy to see the good, the funny, the beautiful in them.
Some days I am amazed at these wonderful Beans I get to hang out with and try my hand at training - because they are resilient. They are beautiful. They are strong. They are tender. They love fearlessly. They face fear and truthfully cry out for comfort.

So, when you think of me, could you pray that I do the same?

I want to face the fear and cry out for comfort.


~Whitney
 Copyright 2012

Cocoa Bean Moment

I've had the gift of two special moments with my String Bean this past week...and I have to share!

In one 24 hour period last week, the man-child was possessed by the devil. He would not nap - he woke up hyperactive at midnight - didn't go back to sleep till 3 - and then was ready to kick the day in the teeth at 5 am.

I was tired. 

Add in that he and Bitty Bean had temporary onset of being deaf to my voice.

And Jumping Bean was on obedience strike. 

And Bitty Bean cried/wailed/screamed for the majority of that time. 

I was bone tired.
I was exhausted physically and mentally.
(Remember - My Love is still 3 weeks from returning home)

Wednesday night, String Bean slept with me - we went to bed at the same time and talked and snuggled. It was a special time just being together. She knew I was tired and that the other 3 children had depleted every resource I had.

So, in the morning, when Boy Bean woke up - String Bean heard him before me.  She got up and quietly led him downstairs. She put a tv show on for him...and the other sisters as they joined him on the couch. She got herself ready for school. She made her breakfast. She made her bed and picked up her clothes. She stayed completely on schedule.

I woke up at 7:30 and catapulted out of bed - we have to be at the bus stop by 7:55!  When I came downstairs and saw that my sweet girl had taken care of everything - I was flabbergasted.

That girl is totally awesome.

I pulled her aside and told her very clearly, "You are now my favorite child of all time."

She said, "I know."

"We're all your favorites!"

Then, last night, after picking chunky puke out of the carpet - it sprayed an area the size of Rhode Island; mopping the throw-up off the bathroom floor; wiping the spray off the bathroom door; and stripping 2 beds...she climbed in bed with me again.

As she lay there with a cold compress on her head, holding my hand, she said, "Mommy, I'm so glad you can take care of me."

"Me too." I replied. "What a gift it is that I get to be with you and take care of you."

"Mommy, what do the little children do who don't have a Mommy and Daddy to love them and care for them? Who helps them when they get sick? Are they all alone?"  And she started crying at such an awful thought.

I joined right in with her.

I talked with her about our friends who are foster parents and adoptive parents. How God sets the lonely in families. How sometimes the children stay alone - even when they are sick. Or how some children may be with their mommy and daddy - but aren't safe and loved and cared for.

That is when she said,
"Why did God pick me to have it so good? I don't think I thank Him enough."

So, last night, God used my 7 year old munchkin to challenge me. To change my perspective. To say again,

Why did God pick me to have it so good? 

I don't think I thank Him enough.

And that, is a sweet moment indeed.

~Whitney

 Copyright 2012