The Cost of Convenience

This week we are at church camp- an adventure we dearly love!  However, one small problem at camp is that snacks are not always readily available (and face it- no camp canteen has healthy snacks).  This would usually be a great chance to exercise self-discipline in my eating habits, but currently my body is busy making “heart milk” (as (a) calls it) for (b) and I am pretty much starving all the time.  Wanting to plan ahead, I made a little shopping trip before leaving for camp to stock up on some healthy (or at least high in calcium and protein) snacks.  I wanted things that would be easy and require no prep, after all I don’t have access to the kitchen, nor did I want to drag my entire kitchen with me. 

As I shopped for snacks that met my requirement list, I was reminded of one thing in particular… convenience can be very costly.  It is much cheaper to buy a block of cheese than to get individual packs of string cheese- but a block of cheese then requires a knife and a baggie to put it in once it is cut up.  I’m usually a pretty frugal gal, so the block of cheese is my normal route, but as I mentioned earlier, for this trip I put emphasis on convenience.  For string cheese and individual chocolate milk bottles, I was willing to pay the price.  However, there are other conveniences where I’m just not willing to pay the price.

I was not exactly convenient to come to camp with a 4 week old baby and a still sore body, but the price for staying home would be missing out on being used by God in the lives of the campers this week.  That was a price I’m not willing to pay.  It is not convenient to give up sleep, plan lessons, and juggle a small amount of teen drama, but the price for avoiding that would be missing out on answering important faith questions and the chance to mentor teens in their faith- that is a price (A) and I aren’t willing to pay.

It is handy when life is convenient, but it comes with a cost.  While I’ll pay for string cheese, some cost is just not worth it.  It wasn’t convenient for Jesus to go to the cross, but then my sin wouldn’t have been covered, and I thank God every day that leaving me in my sin is a price he wasn’t willing to pay.

I’m so glad Jesus took the road that wasn’t convenient… and for this week we are too!  Please keep praying throughout this week for our amazing campers and faculty at this week of camp.

Laughing at Myself

Some people are born for greatness- it seems everything they touch turns to gold or great success.  Others are born with great talents that we admire with amazement.  I however was born with an innate ability to get in ridiculous, awkward situations.  More than once (or ok… more than probably 10 times) I have acquired bizarre injuries from things such as empty cardboard boxes, plastic water pitchers, or my own fingernail (and once from someone else’s fingernail). 

It has been a family joke most of my life, that if some ridiculous injury happens or situation arises, guarantee I am involved in it.  Because of this, I learned early on that there were only two ways to cope.  I could have a total meltdown, cry, and feel sorry for myself, or simply learn to laugh at myself and the situations I found myself in.  Now, I will certainly admit that from time to time “total meltdown” was the choice I made (sometimes still make), but in most situations, I have learned to simply laugh at myself. 

I wish I could tell you that I had mostly outgrown this “special ability” but, nope, not in the least.  I have actually found that as a mom, somedays it seems to plague me even more.  There are days where I feel like I MIGHT potentially be the mom version of Wonder Woman… we actually are all clean, dressed, fed, get a nap, and possibly even show up someplace ON TIME.  Then there are days like yesterday…

With a little bit of laughter we are all surviving my "Mom Game"

Due to a minor complication I had with (b)’s birth, I have to run to the next town south every Monday for bloodwork.  It really is pretty simple- I can show up any time of the day I would like, and I am only in the building about 5 minutes from the time I walk in until I walk back out.  (A) is back at work and I did not want to bother him and I was feeling a little like it might be a Wonder Woman Mom day, so I just decided to take both boys with me.  The drive is about 25 mins from our house, and when I arrived at the doctor’s office I looked in the rearview mirror to discover both of them were sound asleep.  I’m currently not cleared to carry any more weight than the baby, so carrying (a) is COMPLETELY out of the question and I have to take (b) out of his car seat because I can’t handle the weight of him and the seat.  I spent over 10 minutes trying to wake (a) for the 5 minute procedure and by waking (b) he decided he was hungry.  My visions of the Wonder Woman suit were quickly fading to reveal my purple v-neck tee and denim capris.  As usual, I was only in the building a few minutes (though it was more like 7 minutes this week because everyone wanted to see the baby).  When we got back out to the car I decided it would save a lot of tears if I just hopped in the back seat and fed the baby before we took off.  It was only 72 degrees outside and had a nice breeze, so instead of starting the car I just rolled all the windows down a couple inches to let the air flow through.  I climbed in the backseat, shut the door, and snuggled up with the (b) for him to eat.  He finished in about 15 minutes, I buckled him into his baby seat, (a) was enjoying more of his nap, and once again I was starting to feel like a great success… until I tried to open the door.  It wouldn’t open.  No problem, I will just flip the lock and climb out.  Still didn’t open.  At that point it hit me… several months ago (a) was discovering his independence, and I turned the “child locks” on both doors in the backseat for his safety.  You know… those child locks where it is impossible to open the door from the inside, it can only be opened from the outside.  This wouldn’t have been a huge deal if there had been another adult along, or if it was a busy parking lot where I could have yelled out the cracked window for a passerby.  But… it was not a busy parking lot, I was by myself, and I was not in our town where I could have easily called (A), nor did I have my phone with me in the backseat.  Also, when I mentioned my denim capri pants early I failed to say they were REAL pants… not maternity pants, not yoga pants, but bonafied button/zipper denim capris… 3 weeks post c-section.  I’m still not exactly in acrobat shape… especially in real pants.  Cue panic… I really wasn’t sure what I was going to do and our bright eyed little (b) was watching me with a big grin on his face.  At 3 weeks old, it was like he already knew of his mom’s reputation for the ridiculous/awkward.  After several minutes and failed attempts, I finally managed to rearrange (b)’s seat so that I could (very UNgracefully) wiggle and climb and flop through the small console cut out and into the front passenger seat of my car.  As I let myself out and returned to the back seat to secure the baby seat back in place, I made sure to turn OFF the child lock on that side and realized I was laughing out loud.  There was no one else who saw me, (a) was asleep so he wouldn’t tell, and thankfully (b) can’t talk yet, but I couldn’t help but keep laughing as I realized how incredibly ridiculous I must have looked and how I’m sure there is NO ONE else I know who could have gotten themselves in such a silly situation. 

As I told someone the other day, it is a good thing that awesome concealer, a great pair of Spanx, and a face filled with JOY cover a multitude of flaws in my mom-game.  I may not have the Wonder Woman Mom suit, but that’s ok, I don’t think I could laugh as much at her as I get to laugh at ME.

“Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.  Then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”” Psalm 126:2

Learning to Love Again

We are two weeks in to life as a family of four.  There have been some things about it that did not surprise me- I knew it would be a challenge, I knew it would be worth it, I knew I would be tired and sore.  But there have been other things that surprised me- the main one being I would end up learning to love all over again. 

I knew I would have no trouble loving a new little boy, I knew my heart would expand for him, but I didn’t know that having a second would teach me to love my first all over again.  I was not prepared for how much more I would love (a) as I watch him adore his baby brother, watch him truly be a helper to us, watch his huge independent personality soften as he gently offered to help me off the couch or help me walk as he saw me in pain.  His new role as “big brother” has brought out a whole other side of him that I love more each day.

I didn’t know I would learn how to love my husband over again.  From the first day he became a Dad, I have adored how much he loves his son, appreciated what a “hands on” parent he is, have marveled at his patience, and thanked God that he is my partner in parenting- but now that there are two, I am learning to love him all over again.  As I sat in the nursery in the middle of the night last night, I stared across the hall to our empty bed… empty because he is a teamwork kind of dad- I was in the nursery with a baby who doesn’t sleep, and he was in the “cowboy bed” with a three year old who doesn’t sleep.  I love how hard he is trying to make sure each of the boys has special time with him because it is important to (A) that each of them feels like an individual.  I love how willingly he takes turns so that I can also grab a few minutes of sleep here and there, and how hard he is trying to be involved even though this crazy broken arm is making some tasks hard. 

I have learned to love my friends all over again.  Some who are far, but have still checked on me faithfully day after day since they can’t be here in person.  Friends who are planning trips to bridge our miles because they still value the friendship with our family and want to meet this new little one.  A friend who I know really means “call me” because she answered her phone at 3:00 am and came to my aide.  Friends who have fed us day after day and others who have sent cards, gifts, calls, and messages across our distance.  These gestures have reminded me that the love of friends really can hold you up.

I’m learning to love a baby all over again- someone who can’t communicate with more than a cry, but who has snuggled his way so quickly into my heart.  He has reminded me that love isn’t just a feeling, but a choice, and a verb, and a sacrifice.

I am learning to love myself again.  I have struggled my whole life with body image and insecurity, but with more gnarly scars and darker circles under my eyes, I am learning to appreciate this body for getting to be part of a miracle, and to be thankful for great health, even if it doesn’t look exactly like I want it to.

And as our family takes on our “new normal” as a party of 4, I fall more in love with my Creator each day.  I’m more and more thankful for the blessings he has given me- the little ones and big ones.  I see more and more how much his sacrifice for me cost Him, as I learn about loving my sons.  I am more and more appreciative of His grace as I see how quickly and easily, I fail.

Parenthood truly is the adventure of a lifetime, and I love it.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.  The dirty diapers and sleepless nights won’t last forever (at least I sure hope not!) but the lessons I’m learning in how to love all over again will last for my entire life.

“And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.  God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.” 1 John 4:16

 

The Best Laid Plans

By nature I’m a planner.  A preparer.  I like to know what is coming next and be ready for it.  But sometimes God has a subtle (or sometimes not so subtle) way of reminding me that life doesn’t always go as I planned.

On Saturday, June 29 we went to a pool party at the home of some friends.  While focusing on watching (a), (A) did not watch himself as closely.  He slipped on one of the pool steps and in trying to catch himself he landed on his arm in just the wrong way.  A few hours and some x-rays later we had confirmation of what we already were pretty sure of… it was broken.  In 2 places.  The kind nurse at urgent care took one look at me and said “Oh bless your heart- this is bad timing.  That baby is coming soon!” Yes… it was 10 days before our scheduled c-section and my head was swirling with “Oh no!”  (A) was put in a splint at a 90 degree bend up above his elbow and all the way down to his fingers.  All I could think about was the stress of what he couldn’t do.  How was he going to mow the yard?  How would he drive me around after surgery?  How would he help with the baby in the hospital?  I had already booked newborn family pictures- how were we going to hide this huge cast in pictures I was already looking forward to printing and hanging all over our walls? All my plans were starting to worry me.  I just kept taking relief in the fact that we still had 10 more days.  Once he was in his “official” hard cast we would know more.  A lot of healing could happen in 10 days.  I was going to take comfort in that.

The next day was Sunday afternoon and we had a relaxing family day.  I put a couple finishing touches on my preparations for baby- a little extra cleaning on the infant seat, some hand washing on the diaper bag that has been put away for a year.  I was feeling good that I was at least in control of those preparations and had them ready with PLENTY of time to spare.  I went to bed around 10:30 feeling a little hormonally sorry for myself as I continued to worry about (A)’s arm, the pain he was dealing with, and how I was going to add his new list of dr appointments to all the pre-op appointments I was looking at for the week.  I wasn’t completely sure how I would juggle it all. 

Around 1:00 in the morning I woke up with what I thought was a cramp in my back.  I was sure it was just from being 38 weeks pregnant and sleeping in a weird position.  I rearranged myself and it went away… only to return a few minutes later.  After this repeated itself about 3 times I started to wonder what was going on.  I couple more “come and go” cramps later I had the thought… I wonder if this could be contractions.  I never had one with (a) as he had been a breech baby and therefore a scheduled c-section.  The method of his arrival was why I was scheduled for a repeat surgery, and due to some of my medical factors we were very much hoping to avoid spontaneous labor.  One of my medications needed to be completely out of my system before surgery, and things would work more smoothly if we could time that all in a planned way.  Around 2:00 am I found myself Googling “What do contractions feel like?” I began timing them and realized yes… these were definitely contractions coming consistently 6 minutes apart.  I went downstairs to wake up (A) who was sleeping in the recliner where he could prop up his throbbing broken arm, and unbeknownst to me had JUST taken some pain medication. 

As I cried telling him I thought I was in labor all I could say was “It wasn’t supposed to be this way! This ISN’T the plan!!”  All I could think about were the appointments that we were supposed to go to throughout the week so that my medical team and I would be prepared for delivery.  We didn’t have his broken arm “set” yet, we were supposed to be meeting our new pediatrician…. But despite the plan, by 3:00 am there was no doubt I was in labor.  I called my mom and told her I thought she needed to pack a bag and head west, then I called my dear friend Angie and asked if she could come to the house and stay with (a) until my mom could arrive in a few hours. 

While I took a quick shower, fixed my hair, and put on my make-up (and if you know me personally, none of that list surprises you about me!) I was thankful that I am a planner and preparer- my hospital bag was ready with everything the baby and I needed.  The infant seat was freshly washed and ready to roll… and then as we got ready to walk out the door (A) admitted that he had taken some of his pain medication just an hour and a half before.  He should NOT be driving.  So… having contractions 5 minutes apart at this point, I drove us 25 minutes to the hospital.  It was one of those laugh or cry moments as I looked at us- we chose to laugh and think about the story we will have to tell our boys someday.

Within a couple hours, they confirmed what I knew in my heart… ready or not (b) was going to make his arrival on July 1^st.  Eight days ahead of “the plan”, without the pre-op appointments that were going to bring me peace of mind, a lot of physical limitations from my normally very helpful hubby, and chasing the clock for my meds to be out of my system.  Completely out of my control and out of the plan- all I could do through my fear was pray and trust that God DID have control of the situation, and He knew the ultimate plan.  As I lay in the hospital bed hooked up to machines and being prepped for surgery the song our kids had learned at VBS just the week before seemed stuck on repeat in my head.  It felt a little silly to me, but as I let myself think through the words a little wave of peace washed over me “I’m trusting You, God, You are good! Life can get crazy, wild, and amazing, I’m trusting You God, You are good!”

At 11:42 am, weighing 7 lbs, 1 oz, and 20 inches long- baby (b) entered our lives with the most precious cry and perfect reminder that even outside of my plan- God is good.  I was surrounded by a great medical team who proceeded with grace and confidence as if all was happening as scheduled.  And on the eve of what was supposed to be his birthday in MY plan, instead we are celebrating a whole week of blessings.  He is precious, ADORED by his big brother, and has multiplied the JOY in our home.  None of it went the way I had planned (and I’ll admit- a few pieces have still been a little trickier because of that), but it has been a beautiful reminder of God’s faithfulness, and to ultimately trust HIM for the plan. 

“A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord determines his steps.” Proverbs 16:9