Something Real.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about what is "real." Someone said to me the other day, "You are just so creative. I just am amazed, I don't know how you find the time." While it's nice to receive compliments. My first thought was actually, I am such a fake! I don't find time, I steal time from other things. I am really not that amazing. And I thought of a list of reasons for my lack of amazingness.

Yesterday I was reading all the links over at Shell's blog. She has a regular weekly feature where people can "spill" all "the things they can't say." Everyone links up their blogs to this post and shares their pieces. It was amazing how many of the posts had to do with issues of self worth, guilt, perspective and striving to be better moms.

Then today I read a post by my friend Lauren, talking about how people seem to always put their best foot forward, even on facebook, and the feelings it can conjure up when you sometimes compare yourself or situation to what you assume is everyone else's more perfect "reality." I couldn't agree more. And I am 100% guilty of this. I'm not trying to make myself look amazing, but I would much rather share a fun project I am working on, or an awesome recipe I just made, or a pic of my cute girls than the massive laundry pile in my basement or my messy kitchen. I would much rather share about something sweet my daughter did, than that I was short tempered with her 3 times that morning because I stayed up too late the night before working on my "amazing" creations. I think it is only natural that we want to bring our best to the table. And I love looking at other people's pictures and projects and seeing the best of the best people share. But I think it is just as helpful, especially for moms, to hear about everyone's not so perfect days, messes, and feelings of inadequacy.

I had a textversation (a text conversation) with my best friend yesterday. In the midst of the conversation I was talking about being more real and open with people. She responded, "Honesty changes the world. I'm serious. Everyone lies and hides. When someone steps out and tells the truth it changes things."

So here's some truth.

I really needed to do laundry, LOTS of laundry last night, work on cleaning any number of rooms in my house, organize our file cabinet, mail, and bills, etc. But instead, last night I chose to "mod podge" some sweet pink fabric onto a tiny cabinet (thrift shop find) I am making over for my littlest girl's room. There is nothing wrong with having "me" time, but I definitely could have used some "clean" time. I stayed up 1.5 hrs past my New Year's Resolution" invoked bedtime of 11:30 pm working on this project while watching Grey's Anatomy. Not necessarily the best use of time. I was going to share this little project on my blog today because that's what feels comfortable. I still will at some point. Its too cute not too! Being creative makes me happy, making food is therapeutic to me and also makes me happy. I love teaching people how to make things as well as feeding them. This is easy sharing for me.There is nothing wrong with this. But for me, that is my "best foot forward."

Then I remembered why I started writing this blog. I was feeling so burdened and overwhelmed 4 years ago when faced with the possibility my daughter might be autistic while at the same time caring for a very high maintenance fussy newborn. I just felt like I needed to share my real feelings, process them, and also have a written record to look back and see what God would do in my life. It is amazing to me to look back 4 years and see where I was at, where my daughter was at, and to truly see time after time where He answered my prayers. It amazes me to be reminded of the times she made huge strides in her development, was diagnosed as NOT autistic, and made a 180 degree turn in her social interactions. Most people that know my 6 year old little girl today, would not believe she was the same little girl I wrote about when she was 2 and 3 years old. I also look at how God provided for us in numerous ways when my husband was out of work and in him finding a new job that eventually led him and us to another job and place where we are now. So then I thought, what am I going through now that is real, that I need to process, where I want to see changes, and where I want to look back 4 years from now and be amazed by God's grace and provision? 

I thought of 2 things specifically: My spiritual life and my health. I suck at doing devotions. I have no trouble finding time to make something crafty or tasty, but I seem to have an impossible time "fitting in" some God time. I have not read my Bible in a long time. I have opened it here and there. But I haven't sat down with full attention on the Word and just read the Bible in a really long time. Its hard to be honest about this, because I like people to "think well of me," and this definitely is not my best foot. But this needs to change so I can be the woman I want my daughter to emulate. The second thing for me is my health. I have been sick for 7 years with undiagnosed stomach problems that affect me every single day. This is a huge burden to me. It has been a long journey filled with tests, doctors visits, and more tests. I have settled for feeling sick most of the time as my new normal. Many people are surprised when they hear this because I have developed a great "poker face" for hiding how I am really feeling physically. I am tired of feeling this way. I know I need to proactively try some new things that are within my power to change to see if I can start to find some relief. I have just started this process, but I know it will be a challenging and emotional journey. Hopefully one that will end in a state of wellness.

That's the REAL me, behind the pink decoupaged cabinet, tasty recipes, diy patterns, and cute little girls. I am not perfect, I am a work in progress. Its not as much fun to talk about my struggles, but hardship is a part of life and a part of who I am, and dealing with it will make me a stronger, more confident woman.

I Peter 5:6-7 says, "Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you."

This is an important truth to be reminded of. Remember that everyone has something he or she is facing that hides behind that "best foot" forward. What is the thing you are facing? Why not ask yourself this question with me:


What am I going through now that is real, that I need to process, where I want to see changes, and where I want to look back and be amazed by God's grace and provision? 

A few resolutions.

I'm not really one for New Years Resolutions but I figured what the hey, I'm all for shaking things up this year and my first resolution is to make some New Years resolutions...a day late of course. I have to keep it real. So without a long drawn out reintroduction, or my stating the obvious-its been a long time-or explaining what has been going on this last year to fill my time, here's some good ol' fashioned resolutions.

---Here's what made my 2012 List---

1. Make some New Years Resolutions.
2. Try to keep at least half of the resolutions.
3. Read 2 books. Don't gasp too loudly all you readers who have already completed 2 books on this second day of the new year. I read a lot online, articles, pieces of books, but not entire books from start to finish and definitely not fiction. I don't have anything against books. My reader sister said, "You should read The Hunger Games!" My thoughts, uh, that seems a bit intense for my non-reading self to take on and isn't that going to be a movie? I have some great intentions to read books that look good, but I can usually find 30 things I would rather create.
4. Write more.
5. Learn how to play the ukulele. I bought Aislynn a pink ukulele for Christmas. She loves all things musical and she loves it. However, so far all we know how to do is tune it. Ha! I was going to say "learn how to play the guitar." Yes, I am one of those people who owns a guitar she can't play. Some how I have to think a ukulele is easier to learn to play than a guitar? Hawaiians are welcome to weigh in on this one.
6. Document all the tutorials and patterns I have floating around in my creative ADD head and post them!
7. Try and become a morning person and be slightly happier in the morning.
8. Go to bed earlier. I think I have finally reached the conclusion that my 31 year old body can't quite handle the late nights my 21 year old body could! I'll shoot for getting to bed by 11:30pm.
9. Work out at least once a month. I don't want to shoot too high.
10. Organize something.
11. Write thank you notes and really get my girls involved. I am really bad at this one. Shame on me.
12. Remember my family and friends birthday's before they actually arrive or are past...
13. Write a food blog with my husband. Yes!
14. Do more laundry more often so I will have less sweat shop laundry days. You know the days where you do load, after load, after load, and small mountainous regions of clean laundry in your living room start to form. Or maybe that's just me.

In the words of my sister "that's kind of a lot of resolutions." And in the words of me to my sister, "Sorry I'm ambitious." Ha! I figure if you make enough resolutions, and set your bar just low enough, you are bound to complete at least a few of them.

Here's to a new and exciting year, still learning life.

Look how far we've come...

There’s nothing cuter than 3 year old little girls wearing leotards attempting ballet poses. Aislynn gave ballet a try this week with much enthusiasm. After a full week of talking about going to ballet class, followed by “practicing” for ballet class, the actual day of ballet class finally arrived. Fully decked out in ballet apparel a full 3 hours before class, Aislynn anxiously waited for 2:30PM to arrive (our scheduled departure time). When 2:30PM finally rolled around, she commented, “This is going to be GREAT mom!” On the drive over, I actually started to feel a little nervous, hoping this little 30 min ballet class would meet my little “ballerina-to-be’s” enthusiastic expectations.

We walked into the tiny ballet studio and met Mrs. H. “HELLO BALLET TEACHER!” Aislynn excitedly proclaimed. I am convinced Aislynn might actually be the most enthusiastic student to greet Mrs H. in her 39+ years teaching ballet. Mrs H. found some tap shoes for a grinning Aislynn to try on while waiting for the other students to arrive. 5 minutes later, 3 little girls decked out in leotards, ballet skirts, and hair bows walked into the room, immediately greeted by the newest and happiest addition to their class. Aislynn was actually entering the ballet classes 2 classes into the session and took it upon herself to make up some lost time with her fellow ballerinas. “Hi girls!” She announced vigorously waving as she approached the small cluster, “It's time for our ballet class! My name is Aislynn Rae Fuller,” then turning to me she asked, “What are all the girl’s names?” Her fellow classmates actually looked a bit surprised. I think they too, had never met such an enthusiastic little girl. I turned to the moms and said, “As you can see, she is very excited to be here.” They all smiled.

Finally the moment arrived. The tiny class of tiny ballerinas was under way. They started with a variety of body movements and marching with little tap shoes. Next, ballet shoes, some attempted leaping across the room, ballet bar, tumbling and rolling on a mat, and of course stretching. Mrs. H’s clear expertise showed, as she spent just the right amount of time on ever step to keep the girls attention. It was a jam packed 3o mins. filled with new things, unpredictables, music, concentration, interaction, and of course fun.

For me this sweet, simple 30 min ballet class represented a milestone. All the components of this day-the new faces, friends, activities, sounds, unknowns-that made it so joyous for my little life lover, would have sent her into a tailspin 1.5 years ago. Today as I attempted to tidy up and go through boxes on a search for my missing wedding ring (we’ll save that story for another day, hopefully when I am sharing how I found my missing ring), I came across a large blue binder titled, “Aislynn’s therapy notebook.” Flipping through the dense book evoked mixed emotions: Gratefulness and thankfulness realizing where we are at and how far we have come; anxiety and fear, remembering such an unpredictable and difficult time.

I remembered weeks filled with 4-5 various therapy sessions a week while caring for a very cranky, fussy baby Isla (see left, Andy working his magic on high maintenance baby Isla). I remembered exhausted, sleepless nights getting up with a newborn, wrestling with a possible autism diagnosis, and dreaming about activities I could do with Aislynn to help with her various delays. I reflected on the chaos of fear, while trying to find peace with what the future might hold. I actually felt my heart rate accelerate as I flipped open the book to the section entitled “evaluations.” I pulled out a report entitled “Initial speech language pathology report, 12/14/07.” At that time my now 3.5 year old socialite and enthusiastic lover of life, was a very different little girl.

At the time of this initial speech evaluation, Aislynn was 26 months old (see right, Aislynn 26 months playing in 10lbs of rice = sensory activity time). You can read a condensed version of Aislynn’s developmental journey here. I skimmed the report flipping to the “stats” on the last page and Aislynn’s delays laid out plainly in percentages according to the Rossetti Infant Toddler Language Scale: Pragmatics 35% delay, Gesture 23% delay, play 35% delay, language comprehension 15% delay, language expression 12% delay. This evaluation only dealt with language and socialization. We also had issues in the area of nutrition, feeding, sensory, and occupational therapy.

At that point in time-where I am standing right now-was nowhere close to being a reality, only a hope and a dream. Back then, it was in my moments of optimism, hope, faith, belief, and pleading with God that I saw glimpses of playdates instead of solitary play, joyful greetings instead of tantrums and refusing to say hello to others, and conversations laughing and talking instead of scripted and literal speech. It was in my most hopeful times that I dreamed someday my little girl might go to ballet class with other little girls and laugh, smile, and pose. Answers.com defines hope, “to wish for something with expectation of its fulfillment.” Today I am fulfilled.

SEEING with a Purpose

I prayed that she would call-she did. I wanted a second chance-I got one. 2 months ago I wrote about a very special meeting between strangers. 2 months ago I was in the right place at the right time. Some people might call it fate, or destiny, or a strange coincidence. I don’t believe in any of those things, I believe in purpose.

You can look back at the meeting I am referring to in greater detail, but here are a few “Cliff’s notes” for those who are feeling a little lazy. In my second week as a Bloomington resident I met a mom at the children’s museum. The minute I saw her, I thought “she needs one of my baby carriers.” In one hand she held a very young baby, holding her other hand was a 3 year old little girl with very fine hair and an incision scar on the back of her head. This little girl was receiving proton therapy for her brain cancer here in Bloomington. She was 5 hours from home, and calling Bloomington her “home” for the next 2.5 months. The mom noticed a carrier I was wearing and we struck up a conversation, I gave the mom my number and waited. She called, we talked, we played phone tag, time passed, and we talked some more. She was very interested in trying out a particular carrier I make. Before a conversation involving cost and payment arose, I told her something I had wanted to say for weeks as I waited for the right time to say it. I said, “I just want you to know that I am making you a carrier as a gift. I don’t want you to feel weird, but the minute I saw you I felt like it was the right thing to do. I saw you had a little baby and a little girl with a scar on the back of her head, and I imagined that meant you were experiencing something huge. I cannot even begin to imagine all you are going through, but I can make baby carriers, and if I can do this small thing for you that can at least provide you some help and relief and freedom, then it is what I should do. I know we barely know each other, but we are both moms who love our children and we have that in common.” This warrior of a mom thanked me, and we set up a meeting just 3 short days before she would return home to Chicago.

I loaded up my special carrier, probably the most significant carrier I have pieced together, along with Miss Congeniality otherwise known as my sweet 3 year old, Aislynn. There was a time she would have won the Miss UN-Congeniality award. I never would have dreamed a year and a half ago when an autism diagnosis was a possibility, that this little girl would become one of the most congenial children I know. If you look at my previous posts about Aislynn you will see what I mean. With great enthusiasm, Aislynn accompanied me to “play with a new friend with fun toys,” in her words. We met at Jill’s House, a place where many families stay while receiving treatment. The little girl and her dad slowly walked down out to greet us. Immediate perspective punched me in the face. I wanted to burst into tears, but realized this family did not need my tears or pity; they needed empathy, listening ears, and a genuine heart. I sucked it up and said a warm hello. As we greeted one another, and walked inside, I followed behind Aislynn, noticing my own little girl’s long hair swaying back and forth with bows on the back of her head, walking next to a sweet little girl, her same age with very fine hair and a large incision scar on the back of her head. Cancer on its own is not acceptable. Cancer in a child is absolutely and completely unacceptable.

It was love at first carry. We put baby brother in his new cozy carrier while the girls played their version of go fish, completed synchronized puzzles, and shared chocolate milk. We visited and talked. I listened and tried to encourage, empathize, and get a few smiles and laughs in there. It’s a fine line to walk between genuine care and concern and prying; between not acknowledging the obvious and becoming fixated on the obvious. I have come to believe there is no ultimate right answer for how to interact with someone experiencing something huge. I do know listening, sensitivity and intuition help. For the finale of our little meet up, the girls took turns riding the tricycle down the long dormitory hallway. We said goodbye and planned on meeting the next night for our little friend’s going away party.

On the drive home I tried to process what a reality that involved fighting your own child’s cancer would feel like. My heart ached as I imagined that reality. I attempted to wrap my mind around a child enduring a hardship, a battle to live, that most people will never know. I replayed the evening in my mind and felt amazingly peaceful and passionate about my involvement with this family. I felt love, compassion and empathy for this little girl. I felt purpose.

We returned for the going away party the next night. We greeted the guest of honor as Aislynn announced, “I’m so happy to see you!” I felt proud and regretful all at once; proud that my little girl showed such genuine joy, regretful that I had not done more. I started thinking, “If only I would have called her more…if only I would have asked them to come over to play sooner…I should have brought them dinner…” I found my thoughts quickly interrupted as a balled up piece of gift wrap landed on my arm. A spunky little boy shyly apologized at the immediate scolding from his mother. I looked at this energetic little boy and noticed the band around his arm. I looked over at his slightly embarrassed mom and noticed the weariness. The regret I was feeling immediately vanished as I felt a new purpose.

I started to piece this situation together and asked this new mom flat out, “Are you staying at Jill’s House?” The response was as I expected. We continued our conversation, and I learned the little boy full of life and energy, attempting to break dance, was being treated for brain cancer. She would stay in Bloomington with her son while he received 22 treatments. The rest of her family, were back home in Tennessee. I then learned we were both married, we both had children the exact same age too. She had a little boy the same age as my Isla at home, and the little boy in front of me shared the same birthday week as Aislynn. My purpose was to be a friend to this new mom as I said goodbye to another mom where my purpose had been filled. I am learning about action. Making a difference, being a friend, doing something real and meaningful requires action. When someone is drowning, a good lifeguard doesn’t wait for the person drowning to swim to shore to be saved; the lifeguard dives into the water and carries them out. I by no means am "saving" anyone, I am just trying to be available and aware. As we became better acquainted, I volunteered my digits to my new found friend, which she quickly accepted.

The celebration continued full of pizza, presents, bean bag dancing, and swing set time. After Aislynn was thoroughly exhausted (although she would never admit it), we had to say our goodbyes filled with meaningful hugs. I felt an extreme mix of emotions, it was indeed bittersweet. Before we got in our car, the little guest of honor turned to her dad and asked, “Daddy, when we get back to Chicago can we come back and see Aislynn?” He quickly responded, “Of course.” As I shut my car door I immediately said a pleading prayer to God that we would see our little friend again, and that she would enjoy many, many more years of life supported by a family so clearly bursting with love for one another.

Once again, I started to process. I felt aware, where I was once unaware. It is impossible to un-see something once you have seen it. For me, I could not un-see this reality that these families faced. Filled with emotion, sadness, fear, passion, questions-I realized my new found friends lived these emotions multiplied times 100 every single day as they fought for the lives of their children. I thought about these moms. As I meet more and more amazing moms, I continue to conclude that mothers are amazing warriors. These moms fought passionately for their children to experience childhood and more. I am not done processing; I am not done gaining perspective. I feel passionate about the days to come with my new friend. Aislynn has already determined that she will play pirates with her new friend when he comes over to our house. I would not be honest if I did not tell you that I am a little scared. I But fear can’t get in the way of purpose.

There are so many factors about this situation that make it intriguing to me: The fact that I met two moms each with a child my own daughter’s age, both in need of a true friend. The fact that I on a whim, I took my girls to the museum 2 and a half months ago and met a stranger. The fact that the first mom, led me to the second mom. I could make a very long list of factors that you might find interesting. Some people might call it fate, or destiny, or a strange coincidence. But I don’t believe in any of those things, I believe in purpose.

Friends on purpose: A Birthology

Almost 10 years ago...when umbros and tie die were in (Disclaimer: We were playing powder puff football)!

Just to clarify. This post is dedicated to my BFF on her birthday...well, 5 days late. People write Eulogies when loved ones pass, so I thought, why not write a "birthology" and say a little something about our special person's life while she is alive and can actually enjoy hearing how great she is! Happy Birthday Ang, thanks for being born.

I was born on October 15, 1980. Seven months and 3 days later, my non-biological twin entered the world 2 states away. Though this story possesses the qualities of a Lifetime movie, it is completely and entirely 100% true.

Almost 9 years ago in August of 1999, I was standing on the 3^rd floor of Shupe Hall-room 314 to be exact. I was wearing a navy blue tank top from JC Pennys and a khaki pair of shorts (that laced up the front-hot). Angie Marie Mabry strolled into the room sporting a short pair of blue jean shorts, and yellow Tommy tank accompanied by one ridiculous high school boyfriend. We spent an enter day perfecting the arrangement of our room (mostly due to my OCD room organizing affliction where I need to see 45 ways to arrange a room before picking the perfect arrangement of furniture for optimal space maximization). We stayed up obscenely late our first night together, cutting out colored stars to tape around the perimeter of our room and swapping life stories…well, 18 years of life thus far. If it was not obvious from our matching pajama pants, staying up late tendencies, similar music taste, rice loving ways that we would be BFFs; it was blaringly obvious when we both overslept during freshman orientation and missed a mandatory freshman test. We never made up the test and still managed to graduate.

48 hours into freshman orientation, everyone instantly assumed we were childhood best friends, that we grew up on the same street, shared birthday parties, and graduated from the same high school. Jaws literally dropped, and eye brows rose when one of us casually said, “Oh no, we were randomly paired, we just met 48 hours ago.” Actually, that was not entirely true. We did meet over a phone call when I received the name “Angela Marie Mabry” on my roommate assignment slip in the mail. We shared a little small talk while I conducted secret evaluations, checking for brand recognition by throwing out names like “Abercrombie” and “Doc Martins” into the conversation. She passed the test.

96 hours into the college freshman experience, and we co hosted our first party-a snow cone party to be exact. It was BYOI of course, “Bring your own ice.” You might say they were the ultimate freshmen mingling parties. Together, we invested about $10.00 a piece into a sweet hand crank plastic snow cone machine. It broke ½ way through one of these parties when the ice cranking got a little crazy. We actually ran out to replace the machine on the spot. We refused to disappoint our fans. When you are building a legacy, no price is too great!

2 years through college and we decided, individually, to study abroad. One might assume that best friends would travel to the same location, and buy matching “I heart ____” shirts. Since neither one of us was the “follower” in the relationship, we chose 2 completely different locations- China and Jerusalem. I tried convincing Angie to follow me to China, and she tried to convince me to follow her to Jerusalem. Being independent adventures, we decided to go our own ways. We broadened our horizons, stretched open our world views, and experienced life through different eyes.

4 months later we boarded planes, and exchanged souvenirs back on common soil. We shared culture shock, Boone’s farm, the hookah, tears, laughs, memories and stories together about our adventures.

2 years later, we graduated college (2.5 years later for me). We stood in each other’s weddings as we married college roommates, we gave each other “toasts” and pointers on marriage and all that it entails…

5 months into MY marriage (a year for Ang), and we both caught “the pregnancy.” Actually, I caught it first, and then prayed for Angie to catch it. Thankfully God answered my prayer and 3000 miles apart, we both were “expecting”-one boy for her, one girl for me. Through months of food cravings, body changes, swollen ankles, moves across town and the country, and first time mom preparation, we kept each other appraised of the play by play.

9 months later (10 for Angie), we birthed some babies V-style and so together we embarked on a journey into the hood, motherhood to be exact. Instead of taking pictures together, we now took pictures of our miniature people together. Baby O and Baby A even shared a few photographed baths together for blackmail purposes of course. We were neighbors by no means, living 2.5 hours apart, but you never would have known. Our friendship has never been one affected by mileage.

9 months flew by and Angie was surprised with round 2, growing Baby E. Although I did not catch the pregnancy quite as quickly the second time around, I caught my own surprise 9 months after that. We each birthed another baby-2 girls total-Ella, and Isla. We kicked ass going old school all the way-o-natural. No Epidurals here, C-sections not welcome.

2 days into Ella’s sweet little existence and a storm rolled in. Ella had a cleft palette, which made eating extremely difficult and near impossible. A new baby on its own can be an overwhelming experience for a mom. Throw medical issues, and a toddler at home in the mix and you’ve got a recipe for a break down. There were no breakdowns. Moms are the toughest creatures on the planet. My heart ached for my best friend as I watched her take on the unknown, stand up for her baby, and deal with hardships I had not experienced in our non-biological twin existence. Angie taught me about courage, faith, hope, and what being an advocate for your child really means. She refused to be managed or handled. She spoke up when it was necessary, kicked ass if it came to it, and refused to let any terminology, and diagnosis define her sweet little Ella. (Read more about this amazing journey and more over at Angie’s blog)

Almost 2 years later, the lessons I learned from my best friend proved immeasurably valuable when I heard the word “autism” uttered in the same sentence as my daughter’s name. With an extremely high maintenance fussy baby at home and a toddler with developmental delays, I was on the verge of my own breakdown. Bu there were no breakdowns. As I said, before, moms are truly the toughest and most resourceful creatures. After my paralysis at hearing such words wore off, I refused to let fear, ignorance, and possible denial define my decisions and so I dove head first into searching for answers for Aislynn. We scheduled our autism diagnostic and prayed. In the meantime we started developmental therapy, speech therapy, play therapy, eating therapy, and nutrition. Angie and I both lived through days and weeks filled with therapy, appointments, and quests for answers. I don’t think we both ever dreamed we’d have to wear the hardcore mother advocate hat so much in such a short amount of time.

Months passed, and it was hard. We rode our individual emotional roller coasters in the grand amusement park of life. I wanted things to be different for the both of us, for both our little girls. It was undeniably challenging but there was something slightly comforting knowing that we both knew what it meant to have 3 therapy sessions plus, a week and issues the average mom did not face.

Time passed and miracles happened. Ella proved to be just as strong willed and sassy as her mom. They said she would be blind; they said she might not hear, they said she might have major life altering challenges and never meet milestones. But they were wrong. Ella sees, she hears, and she is conquering those milestones. She doesn’t swear, but if she did I think Ella would say “Take that bitches! Put that in your pipe and smoke it!” She recently turned 2 and has been through and conquered more than most people will in a life time. She’s been through hospital stays, surgeries, therapies, and tests, all with one amazing activist and mom at her side. I have no doubt in my mind that Ella will continue to defy the odds and show everyone up. I am honored and proud to say, “Hey see that girl over there…yeah, the rock star mom with the fire cracker for a daughter, she’s my best friend.”

In March, 2008 I heard the most amazing words, “Your daughter does NOT have autism. “ Twins are supposed to share everything, even non-biological ones, so why not share some miracles. It was as if I could breathe again after holding my breath for months. Those were the words I truly in my heart wanted to hear, and I prayed I would hear, and then I heard them. Aislynn continued to receive all her developmental therapies and made great progress. She still goes to speech and has some sensory issues with food, but we have done a 180 like I only dreamed was possible.

Today I can hardly be surprised that 2 sweet and spunky littler girls with us for moms should defy all odds. I know you might be questioning if this is start of a screen play for a Lifetime movie, rest assured it is not. I cannot promise however, that you won’t see this story in a book someday coauthored by the two of us! I don’t believe in coincidence. Random things don’t just happen, and Angie and I were not randomly paired for roommates almost 10 years ago. I know what you are thinking, “Wait a minute! You said at the start of this life synopsis you were randomly matched for roommates?” But I looked up the word random: “lacking any definite plan or purpose.” It IS true that no one in the Bethel admissions office knew what they were doing when they paired the two of us. They saw we both were left handed and liked to stay up late and thought, “Why not!” I told people for years that my best friend and I were “randomly” matched for college roommates. But that’s not true. From day one to day 3,650 our friendship has never been random. It has NEVER been “lacking any definite plan or purpose.” It is the opposite of random, full of purpose.

THE SUMMER T.

I love this shirt.
It says, "CALIFORNIA" all in caps.
I feel like every summer I have a t-shirt that is THE shirt of the season. The shirt that eventually ends up faded, with a bleach spot, and stains from the normal everyday life of a mommy.
The shirt eventually makes its way to the bottom drawer of the dresser transforming into a "sleep shirt."

Why do I love THIS shirt?

1. I discovered it on the sale rack at Old Navy. What's not to love about a sale?
   
2. It was marked "$6.99" which was acceptable, but rang up at $4.99. I loved it even more.
3. Its a bright and cheery orange. Perfect for summer.
   

The shirt makes its debut...

I wore the shirt on Thursday to a playdate at my new friend Lilli's house. She originates from California and I think she appreciated the shout out. The shirt now makes me think of new friends.

I wore the shirt the next day. Yes, I wore the exact same outfit unwashed, 2 days in a row-no shame. I wore it to honor my dear friend who is moving to California in 17 days. I think she liked my tribute. The shirt now reminds me of her.

I knew this shirt would be special when I found it on the overflowing sale rack. I even tried to find one or two more so I could share the love. The combination of the jam packed clearance items I was attempting to rifle through, and my 3 year old wildly pushing a stuffed dog in a doll stroller in circles around the sale racks (that is a story for another day) prevented me acquiring additional shirts.

I wanted to find a shirt for Michele to take on her journey to California.
I wanted to find a shirt for Angie.

The shirt made me think of how she lived in California and loved it. I thought of her birthday next week, and how this shirt would make her smile because it will be a tough birthday for her without her grandma. I'll just have to find another way to make her smile.

Basically this IS the shirt of summer. Have you found your shirt yet?

Let the rain fall

I am thinking about rain today. This is the rain on my porch today.

In a reflection from Ginny Owen's about her song "Rain" she writes,

"...in order to experience a loss or walk with someone through their suffering, we must acknowledge and even accept the rain as part of the process.I don’t think that we’re meant to become completely comfortable with rain; if we did, we’d be too intense and melancholy to do anyone—including ourselves–any good. But experience has taught me that it is good to be familiar with rain—respectful of its reality and mindful of its necessity in our lives."

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more later.

Piles

I like this. Press play.

Piles. LOTS of piles. A full weeks-plus of throw-up, diarrhea, fevers and sickness has put us a little behind schedule in the "keeping up on things" part of life. Before that it was strep (Happy Easter) and before that ear infections and fevers. So basically April was a blur. It actually sort of blurred together into one giant "sick day." And so the piles I began back in the beginning of April, the "we just moved" and the "unpacking" piles are still in their temporary homes, a month later. Only to be joined by piles of you name it-papers, laundry, items to distribute into other locations, items that need a home and have not yet been given one...etc. Why does it feel like the"we just moved and are still trying to get settled and unpacked" excuse seems to have an unofficial expiration date of 30 days? I feel like it should have a full year until expiration, so I have gone ahead and taken the liberty to renew it for 11 more months.

I have always been a piler. As a child, teen, young adult, college student, full adult-I have always had to pile everything on my bed to clean my room. Its just what I do. I pile everything on the bed, which becomes the mass distribution center. From there I usually form smaller piles on the floor until I am left with a few totally random and annoying items-you know the ones.

I always end up with a pile of papers and mail. I have a perfectly wonderful filing cabinet that is the eventual home of most of my "paper pile," but most of the organized items originate in the pile. I am not ashamed of this piling mentality. Its who I am. I am a piler. In college my roommate/bff and I regularly had a room filled with interesting and not so interesting piles. Random passerbyers often liked to comment on the "situation" especially around the dorm check time of the semester. They often shared blaringly obvious insights-"Wow, you have a lot to pick up..." You think? I will admit that many times the piles became a bit large, but we passed every single one of our dorm checks, unlike some of the neigh-sayers. Eat it dorm check trash talkers! Why? Because we knew how to clean...most of the time! I will admit we at times, had to take drastic measures and form piles in hidden locations to be dealt with later when time was of the essence. But for the most part, we are both excellent cleaners. We may not be the tidiest or most consistent cleaners, but we can clean circles around anyone...when we chose to, of course!

The thing about piles, is that you have to deal with them eventually. Sometimes things pile up, and I think that's ok. Piles happen. Its dealing with those heaps, and how you deal with them that's the important thing. There are certain piles you don't mind taking on. They are quick and easy, you know you can break them down fast...and then there are others that you are constantly putting at the bottom of the list because they feel huge, overwhelming, you get a headache just thinking about going through them. It doesn't matter how nicely you hide them or temporarily store them, because you know they are there. Until the pile is un-piled, it remains a pile.

I was thinking about what that means in my heart and mind. What do I have stored away, piled up that needs to dealt with? I can think of a few things. Sometimes its hard. Because sometimes when you start to go through a pile to sort things out, things get messier before they get better. The great thing is that we have access to the best professional organizer ever! He's even better than that guy on Oprah, Peter Walsh. I am always forgetting that He's (God, not Peter Walsh) pretty good at prioritizing, organizing, and dealing. Why is it so hard to really ask God to help us clean house, to sort through the piles, to deal with the mess?

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I was listening to this Beth Moore videocast the other day, and the speaker was talking about hearing God's voice, and knowing His voice. She was comparing it to how it feels when that person in your life calls you and you just KNOW its them. By the ring, by the way they answer the phone. You just know. But you only know that, because you know them. You have spent time getting to know them, getting familiar with them and their voice.

I think I put God in this little box and then expected Him to do huge things on demand, and when its convenient for me. I don't even know what to say but that, but that.

"Jesus never reacted in anger to sinners who knew they were sinners. He confined his anger for sinners who thought they were somehow exempted from judgment because their particular vices were hidden in their religiosity. It's just not the case; neither is it for us. May we vigilantly guard our hearts! May we constantly come back to the Lord and ask him to wash us clean, make us pure, and make us wise. And may we never lose the simplicity of one heart pouring itself out in love onto its Beloved..." -excerpt from interview with worship leader/song writer Aaron Keyes

Pain

(This is what I was listening to when I wrote this. Great idea Ang, since I am always listening to someting!)

I am in pain today. I have a throat infection. It hurts so bad to swallow. What started out as a small sore in my throat has slowly crept across my whole throat. It hurts. I even got tested for strep today which came back negative. So, I have been gargling salt water, drinking tea, poppin' advil, and swallowing through the pain. I wanted to write something today about my cute little 3 year old admiring the "daniel lions" in our front yard, but the truth is that I cannot stop thinking about my pain. I know it is mind blowing to imagine me, someone who has insanely been staying up until all hours to get things done to get sick. But I am human. Living in a human body, with human consequences.

I think sometime we feel invincible, especially when things are going good. But sometimes we can crumble so quickly when something painful or unexpected arises. We can become fixated on the pain and it can consume us. I think it is amazing to hear from people who are grown, successful adults, who are STILL holding on to childhood hurts. Clutching the pain fiercely but wanted to be rid of it so badly.

I think we are all dandelions at some point in time. Masking the weeds inside us with a false beauty, trying to blend in with the other flowers out there, but its all a facade. That bright and cheery yellow is sometimes masking deep wounds, sadness and pain.

Isn't funny when we look for every remedy, every validating philosophy, ever "cure" for our own pain instead of just looking to the ultimate pain manager, the ultimate pain alleviator for help? I do it all the time, which is why I am writing this. Because I need to hear it. I need to remember where real relief comes from. The relief is not always immediate, and it can be a process. But in the end its worth it. The real cure.

Seeing

I got glasses in the middle of college. It was sort of lame. I felt like my eyes were crossing when I tried to read or type. Its possible that my staying up until 3am with my roommate on a regular basis had something to do with it. Within a year of getting my glasses, I lost them. I know exactly where I left them-the Bethel College libary, lower level. When I went back for them, they were gone. Seriously, who steals someones lame reading glasses? I never replaced the glasses to this day. Its a good thing I don't do a lot of reading. Ha! Sometimes I wonder if I would see better if I had some? Sometimes I wish I had a pair of glasses to help me to see things more clearly in this life. Wouldn't it be great if you could get a pair of glasses to help you to really see? To see past things you can't see past, to help you see more clearly the aspect of a situation you just can't comprehend, to see when you are so stressed, tired, confused, and frustrated that you can't see straight.

Yesterday my entourage (Aislynn 3.5, Isla 1.5) discovered Wonderlabs, a cool little children's science museum in downtown Bloomington. The girls loved it. Exploring, discovering, running...it was all good, minus the one time Isla dropped down in the bubble room to do what I thought looked like push ups, instead she was actually interested in licking bubbles off the floor. Her immunity really got a boost after that.

I noticed a little girl. She looked like she was somewhere in between Aislynn and Isla (agewise). Her hair was real fine, it looked like it had thinned. Just as I began to process what that might mean she turned and I saw a huge crescent shaped incision in the back of her head. My heart sank at the implications of such a mark. She was playing right along side my two little girls. They were all doing a lot of the same things, exploring, discovering, running, but it wasn't the same. I wished I had a pair of glasses for that situation...to see why?

I couldn't stop staring at the little girl. Not at her battle wound, but at the little girl herself. My girls had just gotten over being sick. I felt a little worn out after wiping noses constantly and caring for two cranky girls with mood swings and colds. This was a perspective moment. Because to me and this little girl's mom, having a "sick kid" meant two completely different things.

The little girl's mom and I exchanged a few half smiles, the way you do with other moms you don't know in public places. Its like that recognition of rank or something. Instead of a salute, we moms just give a slight nod and a smile to recognize our fellow mom comrades. I noticed she had a very tiny very new baby boy in addition to her little girl. I feel like I have been learning some pretty big lessons over the past year. I feel like I have developed more of an awareness. I am trying to be a more intentional and empathetic person. I wanted to give this mom a big hug. I wanted to say "What can I do? You don't know me, but what can I do?"

Before the museum closed our paths crossed briefly. She asked me about a baby carrier I was wearing. She took down my name and number and revealed she was only in Bloomington for a few months while her daughter received proton treatments for her cancer. I wanted to cry. I wanted to say how sorry I was. I wanted to offer to do something. I wanted to say something but all I could do was give an acknowledging nod to her unfathomable reality. She said she would call because she was really interested in the carrier I was wearing, and I offered her to come over to try on carriers. Secretly, I was hoping this gesture might open a door for me to do something more.

We walked out of the museum and I could not stop thinking of this mom, her little baby, and her sweet little girl battling for her life. I immediately summoned the courage to say what I wanted to say, but didn't. I tried to reenter the museum, but they had locked the doors since the museum was closing. I waited outside, trying to look like I was actually doing something besides pacing back and forth like a museum stalker (I don't actually know if those kinds of stalkers exist). I waited. But they never came out. I had not cased the museum, so I was unaware of other exits. I walked away, scanning the scene, but there was no trace of the mom or her tiny entourage.

I am praying that she calls me. And if she does, I know exactly what I will say, "I know you don't know me, but if you ever need anything, any help, a place to hang out, anything while you are in Bloomington, I'm here for you. I know that may sound strange since you don't know me, but I think I am pretty normal and hopefully you can take my word on that. I am a mom and you are a mom so I think we have something huge in common already." I wish I could have said this when I had the chance. But things seldom work out like we plan and our brains usually think a little more slowly than the current situation we are in sometimes. Hopefully I will get a second chance.

I wish I had some really powerful glasses. A pair that would help me to really see...to see what God sees when He looks at us. To see the most important things in life. To see past the things I get caught up in. To see down the right path. To see what He has in store for us. To see what God sees when he looks at that sweet little girl in the middle of her battle. To see straight. Maybe if I get my glasses replaced, I'll ask for that prescription.

PER·SPEC·TIVE

"Its all in the eye of the perspective." The wise words of a high school ex-boyfriend. Actually, they are not wise words at all. In fact, they make no sense. I just can't seem to forget Thomas declaring these profound words. I don't even remember what it was in regards to, but I do remember saying, "That makes no sense!" And him replying, "You just don't understand." Now I can't help but laugh whenever I hear the two phrases "It's a matter of perspective" or, "It's all in the eye of the beholder." I came to the conclusion a very long time ago, that I was much smarter than Thomas Yates.

PER·SPEC·TIVE
Pronunciation:\pər-ˈspek-tiv\
Function:noun
Etymology: From Latin perspectus, past participle of perspicere to look through, see clearly, from per- through + specere to look

I was realizing how quickly my perspective had changed when I was feeling extremely irritated the other morning that Aislynn was whining SO much and not handling well, Isla's attempts to interact. Granted, Isla's attempts to interact are more those of a demolition baby than a playmate. But a mom can only take so much whining and hearing the word "no."

I decided it was time for a change of scenery after it became clear that Isla had a one track mind-climb on top of Aislynn and anything she is playing with. Aislynn had a one track mind as well-whine and yell "no!" over and over any time Isla looked in her direction. I decided to move Aislynn up to an elevated level that would be out of the reach of my little climber. I set Aislynn up to paint at the table, "just like in Miss Mouse's Day," she excitedly pointed out. She was very excited, and began painting away. I sighed a sigh of relieve to have a whine free moment. Which was quickly brought to an end by Aislynn whining about Isla grabbing at her (Aislynn's) feet from under the table. Did I say one track mind! Sure enough, Isla had strategically found a way to still get a hold of her big sister from under the table, she was more than happy to at least have a hold of her big sister's foot.

It was at this moment I realized how much my perspective had changed and how I needed to "see more clearly" or "look through" this situation just a little harder. Months ago, I remember waking up and going to bed thinking of activities I could do with Aislynn to help her with expression, and interaction. Instead of looking at the annoyances, I needed to see the lining around this picture. I have a little girl who whines. A little girl who is aware of her surroundings, her sister, and a whole lot more. 7 months ago we thought this little girl might be autistic. And my biggest fear was that she would not be able to express herself to me. Well these days she makes her feeling very clearly known, both good and bad! Including the feeling "Mom no sing." which was declared today in the car as I was forbidden to sing along to any and every song. I still think whining and complaining is unpleasant, but it is an encouraging reminder at how far we have come. Yes, whining can be an encouragement at times. And my littlest peanut Isla, that wants to be into anything and everything as well as on top of everyone-I am so thankful she is healthy, and mobile, and curious. She is full of life and enthusiasm and I can only imagine what she has in store for us.

I am realizing that a different perspective can breath fresh air into a situation. Even situations that are little and you think are easily perceived, and especially situations that are difficult to perceive. And so today I will try to "look through" all the areas of my life and things I am facing both big and small and see what I can see more clearly if I just shift my perspective.

Blueberries

Today we picked blueberries. The last time I picked blueberries was with my mom and my aunt and I was a child. Blueberry picking takes on a whole new meaning when you are the mom holding one child's hand with another child strapped to your back! I worked hard for my 4 lbs of blueberries we picked today.

Ever summer it is my goal to find somewhere nearby to pick something. I am clearly not that picky since I am open to picking just about anything. This summer was the first time I actually found that somewhere, Tammen Treeberry Farm, to pick something, blueberries. Today was the first day of the season. The farm opened at 8 am. After picking up my little junior high assistant Carly, Aislynn, Isla, Carly, and I arrived at approximately 8:30 at the Treeberry farm. We pulled in and I saw only a few cars parked. I turned to Carly and said, "Great! It doesn't look like that many people are here yet!" Then I saw a sign that said "Blueberries staight back" It was then that I saw the rows of cars, and eventually the rows of people in line waiting to become migrant workers.

The people at the front of the line, needless to say, meant business. They had collapsible stools in hand, special bucket necklaces and knee pads. There were no smiles, only game faces. Of course when I asked the people at the front of the line (which I thought was the back of the line) if that was the back of the line, they were very quick to point me away from where they were standing.

So we waited. I have not stood in a line that long, since riding amusement park rides when I actually had the time or desire to do that sort of thing! More than an hour later, and two baby carriers later with Isla, we were hauled away by the tractor pull to blueberry bush land. Not being professional blueberry pickers and toting two children with us, put us behind everyone. It took us a while to realize that we were basically trailing everyone and getting their "left-overs". There were more than enough blueberries to go around, but we were sort of getting second pick. We also made the mistake or lounging around eating blueberries, when 20 minutes in to our "picking" we realized we had been doing too much "eating" and really had hardly anything in our bucket! The girls did great and Aislynn enjoyed putting the blueberries in the bucket. However, she was a little too undiscriminating and was putting ones off the ground in the bucket, green ones, smashed ones. Her standards were a little too low. She wouldn't cut it as a migrant worker.

After picking about half a pound and already being hot and sweaty with two little girls who were about ready to call it quits, that is when we kicked it in to overdrive finishing off the day with a strong 4lbs. Our bucket only barely half full, looked like nothing compared to everyone elses, one, two, and three buckets full (roughly 10-30 lbs). I have a keen sense for blueberry poundage now.

My goal for our morning of blueberry picking was not to see if we could pick enough to feed our family for the entire year, which was a good thing since we did not come anywhere close to meeting that quota! My goals was to get my little girl to eat a piece of fruit. With Aislynn's food sensory and texture issues, she currently does not eat any, zero, fresh fruit or veggies. And I mean zero. Sometimes in feeding group or at home she'll barely try a piece or something, but it is rare. And for some reason, she really wants nothing to do with fruit, even though it is sweet and yummy, most fruit has very distinct textures and flavors, and she wants no part of it. So I started thinking, maybe if she was totally surrounded by ______ fruit she might just try it in its natural environment. So my biggest goal was to get her to eat a blueberry on her own. She has previously only been open to smashing berries or giving them small kisses.

After Carly and I picked and ate more than the daily recommended antioxidant and fruit intake for the day, Aislynn distributed some berries, "One for Carly, one for mommy, one for Aislynn." We all did a count down, one two, three, and ate our berries, including Aislynn! She gagged a little, but she chewed it up and swallowed and did a small cheer for herself. I was very happy.

Aislynn did not inhale as many berries as I did, but she ate at least 4. I wouldn't say they are her favorite food by any means, but its a baby step in the right direction. All it took was an early morning wake up, a drive, a long wait, a tractor ride, and hundreds of rows of blueberry bushes to get Aislynn to try some fruit. That's not so bad. And definitely worth all 4 hours.



This girl means business...well maybe not, I think she picked like 3 ounces.



Isla was a little confused, since when she fell asleep she was on my front in a carrier in a line of people. It was getting too hot, so I took her out of the carrier and tried to relocate her to the stroller (unsuccessfully). Sho woke right up and was a little confused to now be in the midst of blueberry bushes, clearly a different location!





My sweet little assistant Carly. She earned her blueberries!





Back at home, Aislynn was happy to feed me that handful of berries. "Mommies turn!" she said...somehow Aislynn's turn never came.



Thinking about trying another one. Maybe not.

"Take a try!"

Aislynn trying some brownie batter

She realized that chocolate wasn't so bad after all.

Friday was Aislynn’s 6 month re-evaluation since being enrolled in the Child and Family Connections program back in January. And again, I am I was reminded of how far we have come.

Our therapists had all completed up to date evaluations of Aislynn and they met along with our service coordinator at our house to discuss Aislynn’s progress and continuation in the program.

Six months ago, Aislynn’s enrollment in her various therapies felt extremely overwhelming. We went from rather unscheduled weeks to feeding group once a week, speech once a week, nutrition twice a month, developmental therapy once a month, not to mention numerous evaluations and the push to get her interacting with other kids her age. Isla was only 2 months old and one high maintenance little baby which made things feel all the more intense.

I remember feeling this sense of urgency. I have never been known for my ability to be patient, and waiting to see Aislynn’s progress in the CFC program seemed unimaginable. I would wake up in the morning thinking of activities and games I could make to help Aislynn with her social skills, taking turns, and language. Any free moment I had to be on the internet, I was hunting for information that I thought might help. Then I would go to bed at night brainstorming more ideas for things to try with Aislynn. I was obsessed! All this, while waking up every few hours to feed a new baby. It really was an exhausting time.

Reflection is important. I was getting frustrated the other day that Aislynn still wouldn't eat fruit. But then I remembered how far we have come. These were Aislynn’s initial “feeding group goals”

1. 1. Aislynn will engage with food not currently in her repertoire

2. 2. Aislynn will bring a non preferred food within close proximity to her face/head/neck.

3. 3. Aislynn will interact with puree with fingers or another food.

4. 4. Aislynn will separate from her parents to tolerate being seated for snack.

Reflection. I remember feeling like there was no way Aislynn was ever going to sit through “snack time” and engage happily with the food and other children. When we first started feeding group, I had to sit in the room so that she would not have a meltdown. And Aislynn was one of the kids that had to be seated next to a therapist in case she had major issues. We have come a long way. Now Aislynn loves snack time. She says “Snack is fun! Friends are fun!” She is the kid that sits at the opposite side of the table from the therapists because they know she’ll do fine. She is usually the happiest, most energetic one there, and most willing to interact with the new foods. She doesn’t even think twice about me not being in the room with her and she now eats things like chicken, eggs, and cheese, which she never would have touched 6 months ago.

6 months ago this was our Social Summary goal: “We want Aislynn to increase her social skills so that she can communicate her wants and needs.” This is a goal she has met over and over again and continues to meet.

“Take a try.” This is one of Aislynn’s favorite phrases. We are always encouraging her to try new things, but we never quite phrased it like that. This phrase is all her. When she wants you to try what she is eating its “Mommy, take a try!” When she wants you to toss the ball to her, “Daddy, take a try!” Every time she says this phrase it makes me smile. One, because she sounds so cute when she says it, and two because she thought it all on her own. “Take a try” from the same little girl who adamantly was against trying all new things.

There are still new things, books, foods, toys, and experiences that Aislynn insists “No try it!” But she usually comes around. Reading is one of those things where Aislynn has her opinions. Many times she has her mind made up before I even open a new book that she does not like it, and of course it becomes the story she wants to read over and over again. Just the other night I tried to read The Runaway Bunny to her before bed. “No run away bunny!” she exclaimed. The next night the same thing happened. She was not about to give these bunnies a chance. Finally, the third night she sat on my lap to read a book before bed, and I quickly whipped out The Runaway Bunny. As she began to protest I hurriedly started reading the book excitedly and I had her hooked. We read the whole thing and when it was finished she said, “Runaway Bunny again?” So we read it again. I put the book on her shelf and tucked her in to bed. In the back of my mind I had a sneaking suspicion that come morning, The Runaway Bunny would find its way into her bed. Lately Aislynn has been waking up in the morning, and bringing books into her bed while she waits for someone to get her up.

Later that night, I checked on Aislynn before I went to bed. And there it was, tucked under her arm at 10:30 PM, The Runaway Bunny-who had clearly run away from the bookshelf a little earlier than I had expected! It made me smile.

I love that Aislynn loves books. I love that she is trying new things. I love that she is growing and developing and expanding her vocabulary. I love that when someone asked her at Starbucks the other day, “What are you eating?” referring to the piece of coffee cake she had, she responded, “I’m eating spaghetti!” and then laughed because she made a joke. These are all experiences that make me smile and encourage and excite me to see what new things she will “take a try” with tomorrow.

By the way, take a wild guess what book has been number one on the bedtime request list for 5 days and counting?

The Runaway Bunny.

Grateful

Today I am grateful that I have a little girl that likes to run around barefoot, roll around in the grass, run up and down a small hill like it is an amusement park ride, fling the bubble wand around with so much enthusiasm that bubbles truly go in all directions, and sing songs indoors and out with great passion.

We'll give thanks to You
With gratitude
For lessons learned in how to trust in You
That we are blessed beyond what we could ever dream
In abundance or in need
And if You never grant us peace

But Jesus, would You please . . .

Last lyrics in the song "Gratitude" by Nichole Nordeman

Puddles aren't for licking

Living in an apartment building provides some outdoor obstacles we try to combat. While we do have a small hill (very exciting) next to our apartment entrance, we do not have a fenced in yard. Sometimes I dream of the day I can slide the back door open and say, "go out and play," while looking at the kids out the kitchen window. As for now, we will have to be a little more creative in creating outdoor experiences.

We are blessed to have many parks surrounding us. They might actually outnumber the Starbucks! We do make plenty visits to various parks, but that is not quite the same thing as playing in the back yard. There is a tennis court in our complex and a few afternoons I took the girls to the court, and let Aislynn run around in this fenced in green asphalt play pen. We took some balls over the other day and she spent a good amount of time throwing them back and forth over the tennis net. Last week we played a little family tennis I use the term "tennis" extremely loosely, and hit some balls around. And I do mean around, not so much back and forth, since Aislynn confiscated our rackets and balls throughout the "match."

Tennis takes on a whole new meaning when it includes 2 little girls. When we were first married, Andy and I used to go play tennis together, and we would actually break a sweat from our rigorous play. Now I am breaking a sweat from having an 18 LB warm little body on my back while I try to bend over to get the ball. Last night in my overly ambitious state, I suggested we all head over to the court for another family "match". We all put on our tennis shoes and I put on Isla (on my back). I found a little racket for Aislynn, since on our last tennis day, she seemed extremely interested and territorial with our two rackets. Of course now that she had her own racket, the interest was minimal and she soon found gathering up the tennis balls and putting them back in the tube to more exciting. This was only a problem when the balls she wanted to gather up, included the ones we wanted to hit around! However, this problem was soon remedied by her realization that there were a series of small puddles in the court next to ours. We do live in a "luxury" complex you know (at least that's what the sign says), so we have 2 playing courts!

I think children are drawn to water of all kinds. It is like this magnetic force. Besides being totally grose, dirty, germ pools, I think puddles are fun. Aislynn thinks they are even more fun. In her mere 32 months of life she has already made many "puddle memories" some which I encouraged, many which I did not.

The other day I let her stand outside in the rain, holding an umbrella (don't worry, no thunder). She was out there for a good 15 min before I made her come in.
What is it with kids and water? We'll dive into that question on another day! Back at the tennis court, Aislynn did her regular circling of the puddle, like a wild animal and then began to "pounce" quite similarly to a wild animal. Although her "pouncing" involved splashing in hydrogen and oxygen and a little bacteria I am sure. I looked at her happily splashing away, and thought, "what's the harm, she'll take a bath after this and she is conducting experiments! I love it!" First she stomped slowly, then faster, than she ran through it, touched it with her hands. Although none of these things would be ok with many parents, I am not one of those parents. However what happened next, definitely would not be ok with any parents including me. Aislynn quickly bent down and tried to lick the puddle water, "Yuuuuuummmmy!" She exclaimed, she really does drag that word out. I immediately shouted, "NO LICKING THE PUDDLE!" Three words I did not envision myself yelling when I decided to let Aislynn "experience life" in the form of playing in dirty water. She just looked at me almost shocked that this was not considered proper puddle etiquette. And I looked at her almost shocked that my little girl with sensory food issues found it more troubling to lick a piece of pineapple than to lick a dirty puddle.

It only made sense that the next thing she did was sit down right in the largest puddle. As I went to shout my next round of "I thought these puddle rules went without saying" words, I just sighed, realizing her whole back side was completely wet. Might as well let her experience getting wet. I would like to clarify that I do not condone my child sitting in puddles on a regular basis, and I will probably kick myself for letting her do so, since now she will think this is acceptable to do. But on this particular occasion, on this night, in this tennis court, in that outfit, right before a bath, it was ok. And believe me, it didn't stop there, she as practically rolling through the puddles, at which point we decided to reel her in. We felt we had given her more than enough freedom to experience puddles for one day-probably more like an entire year!

Reluctantly, Aislynn left her puddles. Actually leaving these pools of water was such an emotional experience for her that she had started to cry before we escorted her off the court. She looked up at me as we walked away, almost soaked from the waist down, and said "Wipe the eyes?" She was apparently bothered by the water in her eyes from her tears, the other 50 percent of her that was wet, not so much. I wiped her eyes with the corner of my shirt. "Thanks Mom," she said.

Experience Life

"One way to open your eyes is to ask yourself, "What if I had never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again? -Rachel Carson (excerpt from Amanda Blake Soule's book The Creative Family )

Yesterday Aislynn wanted to help me wash the windows. After I had thoroughly sprayed and wiped down both the inside and outside glass on our back door. Aislynn announced, "Aislynn's turn!" Lately when she wants to do something, she simply declares it her turn. Sometimes you let your child be "helpful" even when its not. I gave Aislynn a spray bottle with water and some paper towel, and she went to work. She started out spraying the window and then wiping it with the paper towel, but soon found it was more fun to just use the spray bottle. So much for streak free shine!

It is rare that I turn down Aislynn's offer to "help." And a two year olds assistance is seldom more help than trouble. But I love that she is experiencing new things and exhibiting that desire. Many of the things I love to do around the house are because my mom let me trouble her with my "help." Cooking, sewing, being creative, these are all things my mom let me experience at an early age as I grew to love being in the kitchen, unsuccessfully attempting to sew barbie clothes, and creating more mess than artwork!

Life experience. It doesn't have to start when you are a teen or in college or out on your own. It starts the day you are born. I want to make every day count for my kids and give them as many opportunities and experiences doing and trying new things as they can get their little hands on.

Yesterday I received an email bulletin from "Parent Center," a prominent online parenting source. The title read, "How to raise an imaginative child." That was the featured article. I immediately thought to myself, "Do parents seriously need to be told how to raise imaginative children?" It all comes back to those life experiences. If unimaginative parents provide their children with little experience in exploration, getting messy, discovering new things, and creating; then when those children grow up they will have no imagination and raise unimaginative children. So I will continue to explore, get messy, discover new things, and create right along side my children.