Time wishing

Unfortunately, if you're not currently a parent of multiple children, you will not fully relate to this particular entry. I know, I thought I too understood what it was like to have children before I did. Sort of like I thought I understood what it was like to be a stay-at-home mom when I was a working mom, or to be married when I was "living" with my Sohl-mate before we were married. (Yes, I said it. I admit it, I confessed it, and I'm over it) I quickly found out that I most definitely did not understand.

When I was pregnant with my son, many parents would say, "Enjoy these days. They go too quickly." "It'll be over before you're ready, so treasure every moment." Blah, blah, blah, I thought. I won't miss being sixty pounds overweight. I'm ready for that baby to get here already. Fast forward to the delivery, when suddenly I was wishing for that dreamy life where contractions and epidurals and IVs were only things to consider in the distant future.

A bit of foreshadowing, maybe? Of course, that wasn't enough for me to get the picture.

With my Sohl son, I wanted him to achieve, and be quick about it. Hoping to "help him along," I read him books every night, wiped his gums with cloths, sang songs, did a constant running commentary on our days events, while still allowing his input once he decided to grace us with it. Color identification, shapes, sounds, objects, etc. All the advice those books told me to use to raise a "smart" child.

When he would look sleepy, I'd hurry to the changing table, respectfully warning him before I touched him, placed his diaper on him, and lie him in his crib, always on his back of course. It was breaking written rules to allow him to fall asleep in my arms, and I'd surely have a clingy, needy baby if I did so.

Once he started to be more interactive, I wanted him to learn to sit. Then he sat, and I wanted him to know how to fall without hurting himself. This led to my desires for early crawling, then early pulling up, walking, speaking in phrases, sentences, color identification, counting, letter recognition, etc. I wanted him to be there early, to hurry. My smart son could surely do all these things before the timelines indicated he should. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

All around me were comments about how smart he was, how advanced he was, how well-mannered he was. My inner-self danced. Smugly I thought, "Of course he is! I did everything the books said to, and so why wouldn't he be? I'm such a great parent."

Parents of multiple children would say, "Oh, you say that you want to get there. But just wait. Just wait. Talking and walking and everything is great, but you'll be wishing for those baby things to come back." Again, I thought, "RIGHT. Why would I want those bottles back? Who wants a person completely dependent, constantly attached to them?"

And then he turned two. Suddenly, I realized that I'd just spent my son's entire life wishing for him to -----. "Oh, I can't wait until he __________. That'll be great." I remembered those parents, their advice. Enjoy. Relax. Treasure. With a sad heart came the realization that I wanted those bottles back. I wanted that completely dependent person attached to me.

Fast forward to my little Sohl gal. (In an attempt at full disclosure, I did wish the last two or three months and the delivery along, but again, if you're an experienced parent, you can relate) Whether it's because I'm older, or just because I have already spent time wishing for later stages, I'm at ease watching her develop, letting her take her time. And more correctly, when it comes to her, I dreadfully want the time to sloooow down. I find myself wanting to have longer, just to hold and cuddle. Longer, just to listen to that giggle. Longer, just to watch her play. Longer, just to watch her sleep. Longer just to smell that baby smell.

So while it completely startled and some what freaked me out, I understood this man's heart today when he approached my Sohl gal and me, and sadly asked to smell her head. "My three are all teens, and don't want me near them," he said. "I miss that smell. I miss that time." And I knowingly smiled. Because now, I really understood.

I used to be somewhat put off by people who'd ask to see a baby while it slept, while it was calm and quiet. Strangers who'd ask to touch the baby would make me indignant. Now I get it. In a way, they live vicariously through me. So now it' up to me to treasure, to relax, to enjoy. It really does go way, way too fast.

While on some level I'm sad, I'm enjoying the giggles more this time. I'm trying to treasure the drooling, and the 3am feedings. Trying to relax during the teething cries. Because all too soon, they'll be distant memories that I will want back more than anything. Then I'll be the one living vicariously through someone else's time wishing.

Photographic Memories II

It's been a pretty fun week, event-wise. I've done only what I wanted to do, and surprisingly enough, a few of those tasks were cleaning-related. I know, I know, shock and awe.

Monday, while my Sohl son was at school, my little Sohl gal, my Sohl-mate, and I ran a few errands. He saw what my Mondays and Wednesdays usually look like, and he said he appreciated having that knowledge. We found a table covering for an upcoming event I'm participating in, and also found a new pair of jeans for him. For lunch we stopped by the Executive Surf Club, since my Sohl-mate's never enjoyed their battered fries, and then came home to watch the first half of "The Good Shepherd."

After school, we played at the park with some friends, then made some banana bread. While doing so, my Sohl son gave our little Sohl gal a sample of banana. She enjoyed it for a bit, then decided that she was finished.

As my son climbed from his chair onto the high chair, my husband remarked what a good climber our son is. This reminded me of the park about 20 minutes from our home with a large climbing rock.

We visited the park (I'll post pictures later) and spent about an hour climbing and playing.

After the kids went to bed, we finished watching our movie, which we decided was not our favorite.

Tuesday we took lunch to David and played with a friend who lives on base. It was great to see her and her daughter again, and her daughter was very glad to see my little Sohl gal. My sweet girl did great with her second day of solid foods, and is seeming to get the hang of sitting as well.

Wednesday morning I work on curriculum at the church getting ready for our upcoming craft day, where we prepare several week's worth of activities for the preschool-age children to complete. Each activity relates to the week's Bible lesson, and has some sort of preschool-like, craftiness involved. I also watched "Rumor Has It," a run-of-the-mill chick flick if there ever was one, before picking up my Sohl son. Again, we enjoyed the park before coming home.

We played in the sprinkler again, and cleaned up the house to prepare for friends today.

This morning we welcomed a few friends for some watery fun in the sprinkler. The kiddies played for about two hours, off and on, and the moms enjoyed some adult time. I baked some cupcakes, which seemed to distract my Sohl son from playing, so that all he could focus on was his desire for a cupcake. Eventually I gave in, though, and he played for a bit after indulging.

Tomorrow's looking like another beach day. Hopefully the water's a little warmer for our outing. If we make it out, I'll be sure to post a few pictures.

Recipe for thankfulness...

I enjoy cooking. I love taking recipes, and tweaking them, changing ingredients out for things I prefer or have on hand. This week, I feel like God's given me a recipe for thankfulness. Only in this recipe, there's no premeasurements, no specific ingredients. He's made me stop to appreciate the blessings in my own life.

So here's my recipe for thankfulness.

The health of Grandpa Dean makes me appreciate the importance of family. It calls to mind those Christmastimes, birthday, and general celebrations at the house with that unforgettable soft red carpeting. Adults gathered around the dining room table near the front door, which most days sat unused. During these gatherings, however, several leaves were added, and we'd work together to prepare the tables, the buffet line, the drinks. We'd sing our family's version of grace, and we'd head through the line. People moving everywhere, on both floors, in every room, talking about sports, school, music, politics, current events, and family life. These memories wash me in warmth, radiating outward directly from my heart.

Thank you God for a family who cares deeply for each other, and who come together to celebrate and to mourn. Bless our family, and give them strength and peace over the coming weeks and years.

My visit the the emergency room yesterday helps me remember that God wants us to cry out to Him in times of need. He didn't intend us to exist alone, and as needed, will allow us to go through tough times to remind us of this fact. I had to step out of my comfort zone and ask peoeple around me for their assistanec. Later, as my physical pain increased, God placed people around me to comfort me, to remind me I am not alone. He's there, looking out for us, ministering to us, loving us regardless of circumstances. Even after the pain subsided, God continued to show me how many people he's placed in my life, helping me to know that even when life gets in the way of contact, when it's needed, His people are still there.

Thank you God for friends who support and love me and my family. Help me to minister to them, Help me to support those who've already come to You, and guide me in ways so that each one may find and love you.

I visited the library this week, and spotted a book on a topic which has been weighing heavily on my heart for a long time. Reading the book helped me to realize again that I'm not alone, especially in this particular struggle, and that it takes time, understanding, and compromise to solve.

Thank you God for providing this resource, and helping my heart to be ready to receive the insight it contained. Help me to have the courage to share this knowledge with others searching for it.

Thank you for my Sohl-mate, and for his loving and caring personality. Thank you for my loving, healthy, inquisitive children. Help me to be the wife and mother You want me to be for them, and guide my choices and decisions to allow eaach to grow in their walks with You.

Photographic Memories...

Ah, the joys of our digital world. The ability to snap pictures at will, free from the worries of bad lighting, blinking, or money wasted on developing what can only be described with an onomatopoeia; I'll go with "argh."

With this spirit of snap-happiness, I'll share some photographic memories of the past few weeks.

Our little Sohl gal's learned to stick out her tounge in the past

few days, and does so on regular occasions. This trick, however is nearly impossible to catch, and though I'd prefer a better one, this is the only photographic evidence I have at this time. She also gives superb baby kisses, huge smiles, and giggles when tickled under her arms. Favorite people include her brother, who equally adores her, and her daddy, who misses her terribly while away.

My Sohl son's *dramatic pause as the author whispers a quick prayer for continuation, much like most would knock on wood* potty trained!. As such, he's earned a man bathroom for this formidable task, which he's chosen to decorate with a "Buzz Lightyear-ish" theme. The shower "curken" stars glow in the dark, we've added an orange bath mat and hand towel, and selected the "spinny" toothbrush holder. Oh yes, very manly, indeed. The space ships adorning the toothbrush holder have seen interglacatic action, it seems, and have the battle scars to prove it.

This feat also earned him the much-anticpated Lightning McQueen potty training toy which has resided atop our fridge for many-a-month. He now enjoys programming the car to drive itself, or more correctly, programming it to repeat 10 of its sayings over, and over, and over, and over. BUT, we're potty trained!

Last weekend my Sohl mate and I continued purging our Sohl possessions. My task was the pantry. For posterity's sake, I'm posting a picture of my efforts: I want my organizationally-inclined friends to know what an accomplishment this is for me. While Mission: Organization it's not, I am pretty proud of my little food closet. Go me!

Wooo-sah...

It's been my mantra recently. Wooo-sah. This calming sound, accompanied by arm motions from my head down to my stomach, and outward. In an attempt at relaxation I learned from Bad Boys 2, wooo-sah has helped me to regulate my emotions in an otherwise out-of-control situation.

Our church moved into the 95,00 square foot beautiful new facility Easter weekend, and I was completely amazed to learn that over 10,000 people attended services that weekend. That's one small step for the church's over all mission, reaching those who don't currently know Christ; one giant leap for the volunteers, helping to move across town in a weekend. While construction, building, painting, shopping, and ordering have been in the works since early November, the actual finishing work has taken place over the last few weeks.

Wooo-sah I'm sure for those devoted few who were committed to as-close-as-possible-to-perfection for that opening weekend. And God be praised, near perfection it was. Wooo-sah for the families who gave so much, financially, physically, and emotionally to open this facility, allowing so many the opportunity to know Jesus's love and grace. Wooo-sah for the moments of grace we all needed as the inevitable kinks played and worked themselves out. Wooo-sah for the staff, as they make the transition from "new building" to "home."

Our hometeam recently learned that our leaders will be creating their own version of Bay Area in Mexico. These two individuals are incredible, amazing, Christ-like people. I've learned so much from them, and am honored to call them friends. Wooo-sah for me, as my friends move on to reach those in need of God's loving message, and wooo-sah for my friends, as they wait for God's plans for their family.

My grandpa, living alone after the death of Grandma Berdean (miss you G-ma), was recently admitted to the hospital for what I thought was a cold. It led to the discovery that he currently has 15% heart function. Wooo-sah for him, my family, and myself as we cope with this news and pray for his comfort and health. Wooo-sah for the nerves which build up as I attempt to plan out a phone call to him, and quickly learn that he has not the strength to talk as he oh so recently did. Wooo-sah as the tears well up as I consider the times I now wish I'd called to share those tidbits I so foolishly decided were not important. Wooo-sah, as there's nothing else, for all other words have left me. Wooo-sah, for I hear again the song I've tied to my grandparents lives, and more importantly their love. Wooo-sah. Wooo-sah. Wooo-sah.

Wooo-sah for finally understanding my dad's frustration upon seeing the temporary illustrations I'd so happily placed on my skin.

Wooo-sah for the mix of elation and sadness that sweeps over me, as my little Sohl gal improves daily on her quest to sit alone.

Wooo-sah for the line of ten desperate late tax-filers who stand ahead of me to use the tape and pen at the post office. Wooo-sah for the lady at the bank in the lane next to mine who learns the bank's policy on cashing checks from other institutions.

Wooo-sah for the friend who volunteers to watch my little Sohls, while my dentist bestows upon me a crown.

Wooo-sah for me, while my dentist bestows upon me a crown, or more accurately wooo-sah as he administers the shots.

All in all, I see wooo-sah as a mini-prayer. A cry to God: Grant peace upon these circumstances. Help us to know you are always and forever in control. In your time, Amen. Wooo-sah for belated-blogging guilt.