My kids, my stones

Do your kids represent something to you?  I mean other than love or an example of our relationship with God.  Do they represent seasons in your life? 

I realized today that each of my kids “represent” something different to me.  I guess it has something to do with each stage of life I was in at the time I had them.   They are kind of like my Ebenezer rocks, as I call them, in reference to  1 Samuel 7:12, “Samuel then took a large stone and placed it between the towns of Mizpah and Jeshanah. He named it Ebenezer (which means "the stone of help"), for he said, ‘Up to this point the LORD has helped us!’" (If you’ve never studied this passage in the bible, I highly recommend it!)

Colby represents change to me.  He is my firstborn.  Before I became a mother, I was not a “kid person.”  I was awkward around kids.  I didn’t know what to do with them.  I did not want to hold babies.  I was the baby in my family so I had no experience being around little ones.  I didn’t even want to be a mother before I got married.  Apparently, there was even talk amongst family members as to whether or not I would be a good mother because of it (hurtful, but we won’t get into that, no joke).   But when I had that baby boy and they put him in my arms, I FELT MYSELF CHANGE.  I was suddenly a new person.   I was suddenly a better person.  It was no longer all about me.  Selfishness was thrown out the window.  I suddenly had purpose.  I had a better understanding about how God feels about each of us.  It was like an awakening.  It wasn’t that I suddenly loved kids and babies because I now had one of my own.  It was that I now had this amazing person to take care of and love and I was his mother.  I WAS HIS MOTHER!  I knew at that moment that God had put me on earth to be his mother, and I was perfectly fine with that.  Never in my life had I felt a purpose.  Honestly, I didn’t.  He changed me for the better.

Sydney represents happiness.  When I had her, I had the mom thing down and I was a rock star, if I do say so myself.  I was in my groove and HAPPY.  Happy with life, happy with my new purpose, happy to  have another little one to call my own.  We didn’t know what she was going to be, so when the doctor said we had a little girl, we were so HAPPY!   And she was the easiest baby.  Laid back and easygoing.  And she still is today.  When she was in 2^nd grade, her teacher gave her the award for being “Most Flexible” because she was always willing to just go with the flow.  Her grandmother even called her “her happy baby.”  PURE HAPPINESS.   This is what she represents for me.  The enjoyment and happiness we get out of this life that God has given us. 

Brady represents perseverance and laughter.  Does that sound like an oxymoron?  Ha!   Well, let me explain.  When I was pregnant with Brady, times were tough.  Our marriage was struggling, we were financially strapped, and I had gone back to school (online) to become a transcriptionist.  This continued while he was a baby and I started working from home.  Combine all that with the fact that Brady was my high-maintenance baby and I also had two other kids to tend to.  It made for some hard days (and nights).  BUT WE PERSEVERED.  We made it through.  Things got better.  We came out stronger as a family.  And on the other side of this, there is laughter.  There is now this funny kid that makes me laugh out loud on a daily basis.  After all that struggle, all that guilt and heartache, there is now such joy and laughter.  

God has taught me and shown me things through my kids.  They are not only gifts from Him.  They are the stones that have been placed at certain points in my life that I can look back on and say, “Wow.  Look where I’ve been.  I have CHANGED for the better, I am HAPPY, I have PERSEVERED, and I have plenty of LAUGHTER!"

New way of thinking.

It just dawned on me that I have a new way of thinking.  Maybe it's because I work outside the home now. Maybe it's because it's summertime and summertime makes me feel good.  Maybe it's because I now have two kids in middle school.  I don't exactly know why, but I can definitely tell that my way of thinking is different. 

This evening when the kids and I came home, I walked into a house and saw piles of laundry.  Dishes needing to be put up.  A floor that is begging to be mopped. I walked into my bedroom and I saw a bed that had been well slept in.  I stepped into my closet and saw piles of clothes and shoes. I looked down at my dresser and saw several things that didn't even belong in my room like my daughter's manicure set and headband, my son's comic book and a drawing he had done by a comic book artist, and a few other things that were probably put there because they just didn't know where else to put them. 

In the past, I would've walked into this house and upon seeing the uber mess, I would've turned into Hurricane Tracey and everyone would've felt my wrath.  We would've all gotten to work cleaning and picking up and then the kids would then retreat into their rooms to find respite from my silly neat freak madness.  And then I would feel guilty.  It was a silly cycle. 

But tonight, I walked into this beautiful mess and I felt calm, peaceful even. The clothes may not be put up, but at least we have clothes. The dishes may not be put up, but they are clean. My kids' stuff may be everywhere, but one day they'll move out and have homes of their own and I won't be able to look down and see a comic book, crazy nail polish, a toy out of its place.  

I'm thankful for this moment of life that I'm in. This in between. Not babies, yet still not old enough. Still needing me, yet starting to show their independence.  It is a breakthrough for me to be able to feel this way. 

Tonight, I'm gonna lie here in my bed and snuggle with my 11-year-old daughter while she snoozes and listen to the rain.  One day she'll be "too big" to do this, so for now I'll enjoy it. I'll let the messiness wait. And I'll feel good about it. Thank you, God, for my mess. Thank you, thank you, for letting me finally see the beauty of it. 

Sweet dreams...

Click on this link for a mommy funny. :-)

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/5445948?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000037

Being good

I spent the first part of my Mother's Day feeling ill.  My family was inside the church at Sunday school and I was sitting in my van with the AC blasting, hoping the sick to my stomach feeling would pass so that I could join them, but it didn't.  And that's okay, because I did some thinking.  I thought about how much I have "failed" as a mom lately.  I couldn't remember the last time I cooked a decent meal.  I couldn't remember the last time I sat down with my kids and looked over their homework with them.  I couldn't remember the last time I prayed with them.

That mommy guilt is always there, isn't it?  It's always so easy to go to that place.  Life gets busy, and trust me, as they get older, it doesn't slow down.  And it leaves me feeling tired and beat down.  When they were smaller, I thought we were busy then, but boy was I wrong.  I am in awe of mothers who work full-time and still seem to have their home life in check.  I work part-time and between that, my husband's crazy schedule, tennis, track, basketball, baseball, band, church and the many, many other hats we wear, I just can't seem to get a grasp on things at home.  I'm sure one day I will… ya know, when the kids are gone and have lives of their own… and then I'll be crying… and bored… wishing for something to do or someone to need me. 

As I sat in my van this morning, I had this thought, "I have to be better so that they can be better."  That's a true statement, correct?  That's what we do as parents.  Try to be our best selves so that our kids see good examples in us. We try to be a good Christian, a good parent, a good spouse, a good friend, a good daughter/daughter-in-law, a good steward, a good housekeeper, a good driver, a good cook, and many other good things.  "Good" people.

It can get very overwhelming at times.

What is good, exactly?  Is it having all the laundry done or having the best looking yard on the block or 

having the house immaculately clean when company shows up unannounced?  Well, yeah, it can be. OR is it watching the sunset on the beach, spending the day with your favorite people, or hearing God speak to you in a gentle way during your quiet time with Him?  Now those are good things.  

  

The thing is, I am thinking about it all wrong.  I don't have to be "good" or "good enough".  I don't have to compare myself to others.  I don't have to feel guilty.  I am loved by God, by my kids, by my husband.  Do I have to try and do my best?  Yes, because I want to do my best and be my best for the ones I love and the ones who love me.  Do I have to feel guilty when I don't?  Nope. 

Like I've said before, every day is a new day and a new beginning, another chance to try.  Some days we will fail, but other days we won't.  There will be hard times and bad things that happen, but there will be GOOD things that happen, too.     

Like my 13-year-old son holding the door open for me.

Like my 11-year-old daughter telling me what's going on in her world because she trusts me and wants my opinion.

Like my 7-year-old son hugging me and saying, "I love you, mom." 

Like when I hear my kids say that they love the Lord and want to go to heaven.

Now that's good.  That's the "good" stuff.

I must be doing something right.  Did you read that?  I MUST BE DOING SOMETHING RIGHT.  Yeah, I don't always have a nutritious meal sitting on the table for my kids.  I don't always say the right thing.  I don't always read my youngest a bedtime story.  I don't always make up the beds, have the laundry done and the house clean.  BUT, there are times when I do.  And forgiving myself for the times when I don't is key.  

When I start seeing the "good" things that are happening, that's what will make me "good".  Not good as in morally right or approved of, but good as in… well. 

Happy Mother's Day.

New beginnings...

So it's nearing the end of February and I know it's kinda late to be talking about the New Year and new beginnings, but my year already has had so many changes and I just now have the chance to sit down and write about it.  I'm sorry if my blog is messy today.  I am frazzled.

Since the first of January, we have moved again (back into our home), I was laid off from my comfortable work-at-home job and now have a new job, a real world, out among the land of the living job (which means I actually have to get out of my pajamas and wear normal every day clothes), and also, some of my relationships have changed, even within the last few weeks.  Talk about new beginnings... I feel like I am living a brand new life.

The most important relationship that has changed is the one with my oldest son.  My heart.  I knew this year was going to be different in many ways, but I never thought I would be starting over with my son, like starting from a new, clean slate, learning how to begin a NEW relationship with him.

Colby just turned 13 in November.  Yep, he's a teenager.  And along with having to deal with teenage emotions and the middle school life that most of us would love to forget about, he struggles with ADD inattentive type, diagnosed when he was in 3rd grade.  It is something that he struggles with daily.  He has been on and off different medications since 3rd grade.  Once he got into 6th grade, he didn't want to take it anymore.  He didn't want to be different.  I searched and searched for non-medicated ways to deal with ADD and I found Advocare Spark, a daily "energy drink" that has worked wonders for him, but I will leave the rest of that story for another blog.  :-)

Colby and I are very different.  The way we think is different.  We tend to butt heads and we get very angry with each other.

I feel very guilty when it comes to him.  Since he was diagnosed with this, I think I have treated this more like a burden than something that is just a part of him.  I have treated him like something I have to "deal with" instead of help.  It quickly became something that stressed ME out instead of something that I had to look past and just love him.  This obviously put a hitch in our relationship.

Our relationship was becoming harder and harder, not just because of the ADD, but also because of the changes that come with being a teenager/having a teenage kid.  Then, on New Year's Eve, he did something to one of his siblings, picked on them, and I honestly can't even remember what it was because it just wasn't a big deal... and I lost it.  I blew up at him, yelled at him and sent him to bed at 11:30 PM.  I ruined our family's New Year's Eve together because of my anger.

My husband told me that night that if I didn't try to change my relationship with Colby and make it better that he would end up not having a relationship with me when he got older.  And he was right.

I've treated Colby like something I had to fix or deal with for so long that my mother/son relationship with him had gone south.

Now don't get me wrong.  This kid is my heart.  He changed me.  The day he was born I was suddenly a new person.  A better person.  A caring person.  A loving person.  I never knew I could love someone so much that I just met.  You moms know what I'm talking about.  He had a little cone head and his lips were swollen, he was red and wrinkled and had this shrill cry that would scare Bigfoot away, and had caused me excruciating, unbelievable pain on his way into this world, but he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  This blessing.  This miracle. 

I made the decision on that New Year's Eve to change our relationship for the better.  To change how I looked at him.  To change how I treated him.  God has put him in my life and made him the way he is for a reason.  I had to start over with him.  I had to put forth an effort to HAVE a relationship with him, one that he would look back on and remember with love, not one that he would look back on and think of with disappointment.

God gave me this awesome kid.  He loves history.  He loves superheroes and comic books.  He loves running.  He loves Sonic video games.  He loves movies about war and old westerns.  He loves to read.  He is sensitive and loves his friends.  He always has a joke to tell.  I have no words to describe how much I love him, but God loves him so much more than I do, and He has given him to me to love and teach.  I've been entrusted with him and I want to do the best I can.

So I'm starting over.  I'm learning how to be calm and more understanding of him.  I'm learning to be patient with him.  I'm learning how to deal with his struggles better and in a kinder, gentler way.

I realized that I need to have something in common with him, something we can do together, so we ran our first 5K together and it was so much fun.  I can't wait for our next one.  I want him to realize that I WANT to do things WITH HIM.

Have you ever seen the movie "The Odd Life of Timothy Green"?  I love that movie.  It really reminds me of Colby in so many ways.  Check out this scene.

Colby is so this kid.  Noticing how awesome the sun feels when he should be paying attention to the game (granted, this kid doesn't have ADD... he is actually taking in the sun because he grows leaves on his legs like he's a plant, but you get my point).  And I am so that mom.  "I am the mom of that!!!"  And then Timothy kicks the soccer ball into the other team's goal, like he wasn't paying attention.

How hard it is on a child when they do things like that over and over because their brain won't let them focus.  It is our job as parents to still be proud and say "I am the mom of that!" even when our kids make mistakes or do disappointing things.  They are already disappointed enough in themselves.  They don't always need to hear about it from us.

How wonderful that we can always start over, fresh and new.  That is a gift from God.  His grace and love are always there, ready and available.  He's always there, waiting for us to come back if we have strayed.  That's how we should be with our kids, these little people that God has blessed us with.  Every day is a new day.  We can always move past the things we are not proud of and push forward to new beginnings, a clean slate.

Please pray for me as I step into this new chapter of motherhood called the teenage years.  It's going to be a bumpy ride, but oh so worth it because I get to call this kid "mine".

Becoming Un-Grinched...

Now bear with me.  I promise this is going to get better and have a happy ending, so stay with me until the end.  :-)

I've grown to loathe "the holidays."  That time frame that starts a week or so before Thanksgiving and ends somewhere around New Year's.  Over the years, it has become something I dread.  Why you ask?  Maybe because the stores become packed and I hate crowds.  Maybe because every year we struggle to get the kids' what they want on their Christmas list.  Maybe because I terribly miss the annual Christmas Eve parties at my grandparents' house (EPIC parties) where everyone gathered and the laughter was contagious.  Maybe because Martha Stewart I am not and my Christmas decorations always look like a 5-year-old decorated.  Maybe all of the above?

This was my view at HEB the Saturday before Thanksgiving.  So many people.  I. Was. Miserable.  Loathe...

Black Friday?  Umm no... I would rather go on a Monday and pay full price than be in a crowd full of crazy people so I can save some money.  No thank you.  And I'm not trying to get down on those of you who love it!  Don't get me wrong.  If that is something you enjoy, by all means, enjoy it.  But count this extreme introvert out.

So Thanksgiving came and went and then boom... Here's December! (said in a Jack Nicholson voice).  The anxiety.  The tension.  The sadness.  It all started oozing into my brain and I was having trouble shaking it.  When my husband brought the Christmas decorations out of the shed and into the house, I did my best to cover my true emotions and put on a happy face.  As we started putting up the Christmas tree, I freaked.  I ended up retreating to my bedroom, shutting the door and lying in bed in the fetal position.  No joke.  

Hi, my name is Tracey, and I am a Grinch.

Horrible, right?  But hear me out.  Why was I feeling this way?  Year after year getting worse.  

As I was having a pity party in my bedroom, I realized something.  All of the expectations I PUT ON MYSELF were weighing me down.  All of the sadness from missing all of the loved ones I was used to seeing every Christmas, who are now gone, was weighing me down.  All of the beautiful Christmas decorations I saw on TV and the perfect Christmas lights on the big, beautiful houses was WEIGHING ME DOWN.  And all this stuff was packed inside this big, enormous wrecking ball and the wrecking ball was just sitting on my chest!  (No Miley Cyrus references, please.)  

You know what I did?  I sat up, threw that big ball of LIES down, I got up and I re-joined my family.  They were so happy to see me.  My youngest son said with excitement, "Mom, can we finish the tree now?"  You see, they waited for me.  These four people just couldn't do it without me.  Wow.  

We finished getting the tree assembled.  We put the lights on and they WORKED.  (Hallelujah!)  And then the kids starting putting on their ornaments, these ornaments that reminded us of years past.  The memories started flowing in.  And the tears started filling my eyes.  All of these memories that were so fun and sweet and full of love.  And then I saw my favorite ornament, the one that says "Happy Birthday, Jesus".  The one we always put at the top in the middle.  The most important one.  

That's what it's about, people.  It's not about how many presents we get or how perfect our tree looks or how wonderful our pumpkin pie tastes.  We do not have to be Martha Stewart, but we do not have to be the Grinch, either.  

I'm not saying this is going to be easy, but we have to really think about what and how we are celebrating.  Why are we putting up trees and decorating and baking and shopping 'til we drop?  If that doesn't get us in the Christmas spirit, then we need to focus on what does, and if it does, that's great!  Thanksgiving is about being thankful, thankful for what we have and thankful that we can be saved by a Savior who loves us so.  Christmas is about the birth of a man who would later die for us, the one true King who was sacrificed for you and me.   We don't have to do all those things to celebrate.  Do what it takes to get YOU in the spirit.  That could be watching your kids put up the ornaments and not worrying about what it looks like.  It could be seeing your favorite ornament at the top of the tree.  It could be hearing Linus recite the story of the birth of Jesus (brings tears to my eyes every time).  It could be delivering goodies to someone who is also feeling like a Grinch.  It could be starting your own Christmas traditions.  Whatever puts you in the mood to celebrate.

A few days before Thanksgiving, a good friend of mine told me that I should start my own Christmas traditions.  And that's exactly what I did.  I have a Christmas cookie recipe book and every year my kids are going to pick one cookie recipe each.  We will write their names and the year on the recipe they choose.  Maybe add some pictures to it every year.  :-)

So that's what I'll be doing to celebrate Jesus.  Making cookies with my kids, enjoying my family, admiring my less-than-perfect-but-perfect-to-me tree, listening to Linus a few times over the next few weeks, and focusing on what this season is truly about.  I refuse to be a Grinch.  What will you be doing???  I want to know!  Give me some ideas!

Let's get un-Grinched and start celebrating, y'all!  

Our lovely tree...

Here we go...

First time blogger here... so be kind.  I haven't written my thoughts down in years, probably since before I had my first child, which was 13 years ago.  How time flies.  I used to love to write, and I was good at it!  So what happened?  Everyday life?  Too busy?  Who knows...  But here I am... just a girl, standing in front of fellow bloggers, asking you to love her.  (Let me know if you get that reference!  Ha!)

 http://youtu.be/Eit31oT-bDw

So here it is... the real reason for this blog.  I figured blogging would be therapeutic for me and help me get my thoughts down.  I recently started seeing a counselor (yep, that's right, I said it).  I used to think that if I ever got to that point in my life where I needed to see a counselor, that I had somehow failed... I had failed God, myself, my family... I wasn't strong enough to deal with what life had thrown at me.  But what I didn't realize is that that is a lie, lie, LIE!  The day you realize that you need help and are willing to ask for it is the day that you become STRONG!  ("What doesn't kill ya makes ya stronger, stand a little taller..."  Kelly Clarkson knows what she's talking about.)  You decide to no longer listen to the lies that Satan hurls at you and you become vulnerable to God's love, to yourself and others.

VULNERABLE.  Does that word make you cringe?  My counselor said something to me the other day that has really stuck to my ribs...  She said we have to be vulnerable to allow God into our lives and to accept his love, and we have to be vulnerable with other people so that we can help them with whatever they are going through.  I've never thought of it that way.  Especially in this day and age, we aren't supposed to be vulnerable, are we?  Society and media tell us to be strong, tough, selfish even, "it's all about me and what I get out of it."  But vulnerable?  My German roots tell me no.  Vulnerability means you let people walk all over you and take you for granted, doesn't it?

2 Corinthians 1:3-4 "3Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God."

How can we help others if we are not vulnerable?  If we continuously put up a front that says there is nothing wrong with me, everything is hunky dory and I don't need anyone's help, that's not helping anyone, including ourselves.  You are actually being selfish with what God has done in your life.  I heard someone say the other day, "Don't hog your story.  Share your story."  You never know who you could be helping.  If God has comforted you, share your story.  There are others who need to be comforted by you.  

This is my first attempt at being vulnerable.  Maybe it will help you.  Maybe it won't.  But I never want to be the one that missed out on helping someone.  Especially when that is what God intended for me to do.  

Let's take off our rose-colored glasses.  Here's to being vulnerable with each other.  :-)