Category Archives: parenting

Confessions Of A 5 Year Old

At 4 pm we made the switcheroo.

Jeremy came home from work and I ran out the door to a meeting with my web designer (it’s slow, but it is coming soon) and then to go meet with some folks for a run.

I had chicken in a marinade for Jeremy to grill, I set out some brown rice and showed him where he could find vegetables to throw in the microwave.

And I ran out the door.

Fast forward to 7:30 pm.  I arrive home and drink a gallon of water because it’s outrageously humid here in Michigan.  Then I set about looking for leftovers.  I managed to find the chicken and the rice.  “Jeremy” I yelled, were there any vegetables left? 

To this he answered.  “I didn’t make the vegetables.”

“Honey, you seriously fed the children only grilled chicken and plain brown rice?”

“Yup,” he answered.

So I heat up the leftovers, including the vegetables, which were the easiest because they were the microwavable vegetables with teriyaki sauce, and I go outside to sit on the front porch to eat my dinner.

Meleah comes out and sits next to me. 

As usual, my deep thinker asks me why God made tornados.  This of course led to a long drawn out answer from me starting with Adam and Eve and how we now know both really good and really bad.  Which of course led us to discussion on death and dying.

And my children do recognize I had a brush with death when I battled cancer and so she mentioned that I hadn’t died.

So I asked her if she would miss me if I died.  And she always gets this silly grin because the girl KNOWS how to tease, and she paused for a second and she finally said “yes mommy, I’d miss you if you died.” And she laughs.

And I say “You better miss me if I died!” 

And I went on “look, who’d cook you vegetables little girl, not your dad, that’s for sure!  And I make you breakfast and lunch and clean up after you…..”

And as I’m rambling all the reasons she should be really grateful I’m alive, she cuts me off and says in a really loud voice to make sure I hear:

“And mommy, you wipe me after I poop!”

And that my friends tells it all right there.

I knew I was good for something darn it!

“For an answer Jesus called over a child, whom he stood in the middle of the room, and said, “I’m telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you’re not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God’s kingdom. What’s more, when you receive the childlike on my account, it’s the same as receiving me.”But if you give them a hard time, bullying or taking advantage of their simple trust, you’ll soon wish you hadn’t. You’d be better off dropped in the middle of the lake with a millstone around your neck. Doom to the world for giving these God-believing children a hard time! Hard times are inevitable, but you don’t have to make it worse—and it’s doomsday to you if you do.” (Mathew 18:2-6)


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Because I’m Worth It

What can I say.  I’m a slacker.  How will I ever make it in the blogging world if I disappear for weeks at a time.  Somehow, a few of you stick with me.  Thank-you.

Last time I wrote I told you about my surgery.  Since then I’ve organized a “Give a Tent” drive for Haiti, had a mild case of lymphedema,  painted 1/3 of my house yellow, which meant 3….yes 3 coats of paint to cover the green and brown “dark” phase I went through a few years back.   I should have painted before the surgery, but there always needs to be a deadline for me.  That deadline is my dear college friends coming to visit next weekend.   Not that they would have minded the nasty paint job I did a few years ago, but this yellow and newly painted trim looks better.  There were many sick days during chemo on a dreary day in Michigan that I thought “why the h-e-double hockey sticks” did I paint my walls brown. 

Now my house looks like an Easter egg.  One light blue room, one light green kitchen and the main living are is called “hunny butter.”   Either that or this house belongs in Florida.

So one of my adventures over the past few weeks was filling in for the 2’s and 3-year-old class at church.  I love my kids, but here’s the truth:  It’s  not that I don’t like teaching other people’s kid’s, it actually that I’m scared to teach a class full of other people’s 2 and 3 year olds.  I mean, seriously, so much can happen.  They could cry the whole time, they could yell “you’re dumb” which is unfortunately Elijah’s new favorite word.  They could run around yelling and screaming and never listen to me.  I could make a total fool of myself trying to explain the concept of Jesus.  And my number one fear…..a happy little guy who bursts in to tears the minute mom or dad arrives for pick-up.

Seriously, I am afraid of kids.

So I was telling a dear lady at our church about filling in as a sub the day before during our tents for Haiti event, and she was this awesome 2nd grade teach for many years in the community.  Well, wouldn’t you know who would show up to help me.  Now, it was really sweet of her to show up, but now I’ve got 16 little eyes looking at me, including my own son who won’t listen to anything I say, and a professional child “whisperer” in my midst.  “I am going to look like a fool” I thought.

But dear Joyce filled in where I missed cues.  And I managed to teach those little munchkins something.  Here was out Bible verse.  It’s so easy, even you can remember it!

“I am wonderfully made.”  from Psalm 139:14

The actual verse is a bit longer.  It says this:  “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful.”

But it seems to be that those 4 words is the limit for 3 year olds when it comes to memorization.  And you need to spend several weeks saying it over and over again to them, and even sometimes they don’t get it.  I say Elijah….”what was your verse today?”  And he yells “Jesus”  which we all know is the universal right answer, and then I give him a few words and it registers to him finally what the verse actually is.

So, of course, this got me thinking, because I think a lot, about this little inconspicuous verse in the Bible.  It’s one I’ve heard for years, since I was a little whippersnapper in my own 2’s and 3’s Sunday School class with Mrs. Lee.

And I was thinking how forgetful I am, just like a 3 year old and a memory verse.  How through my teenage years I forgot that I didn’t need to be a size 6 to be special.  How I didn’t need to get the best grades to be important to someone.  That I could be really miserable at Math and really good at Art or Science and that was OK.  It made me unique.

I’m not sure what I did with the knowledge and wisdom of this verse but I’m pretty sure I packaged it up in the back of my mind and left it there to gather dust or mold. 

Because at some point during my cancer journey, it has dawned on me, since sometimes I miss the details, that I am, actually, in fact, important.  And, not only that, I am worth living for (if that makes sense).  What a novel idea.  I know, you guys, it’s the simple things that stump me.  But seriously.  It took cancer for me to realize my life is worth living.  That I am important to my kids.  I’m important to my husband, and my parents and my sister and my friends.  I wanted to live.  I wanted to beat cancer.  Why?  Because I was worth living for.  Because I am wonderfully made.  I have a purpose here on earth to love and be loved.  God knew this before I was even a tadpole. 

So I’m doing the best to not beat up on myself.  I try to remind myself that I don’t have to be a size 6 to be important.  That I may never understand physics or why x=y.  But I am important none-the-less. 

You may have had different reasons for fighting cancer.  You may have never fought anything in your life other than low self-esteem.  Don’t let it be cancer, like me, to wake you up to your own value and self-worth.

Jesus said this to us in Matthew 22

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind.  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it.  Love your neighbor as yourself.”  All of the law and prophets hang on this.”

So whatever we do glean from the Old Testament law and prophet’s,  and what seems like a bunch of rules and regulations, Jesus came and said THIS my friends:  Love your neighbor as yourselfThis is the most important.  

Cling to this dear ones.

You are wonderfully made.

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Light’en Up

A few nights ago I was going through our digital pictures on the computer.  I have to do this because I’m pretty sure we’ve never actually printed out any of our pictures. It’s on one of my to-do lists to-do when my kids are a bit bigger and I have more time. Whenever that might be.

It was such a lovely walk down memory lane. It made my heart sad and glad, all at the same time. Looking at my children when they were super little. Oh, how my uterus screams for more. I really do wish I could have one more cuddly little baby. One more birth. Oh how I miss those days. (Don’t feel bad for me. I knew I was done after three BEFORE I had cancer, so I’m not blaming cancer on this one)

One thing I noticed about the pictures of my children from before I had cancer is how nicely they were dressed and how they always had their hair brushed, pulled in to cute pony tails and their and how their clothes matched.  They looked….well, almost perfect.

I barely remember those days.

And just today I was laughing to myself because this is how lunch went for the kids went:

I looked in the fridge. I looked for something healthy. I gave healthy options. Meleah wanted green beans. This request was semi-healthy, but from the can, not so sure. I had leftover green beans. I heated up leftover green beans and found some leftover french fries from the night before to go with them. She was happy. I was happy, no clean up. Paper plates.

So then, she eats three bites of each and announces she’s done. She leaves the table.

Here’s where Elijah, child number three comes in. He walks to the table, looks at his sisters leftover, leftovers and asks if this is his meal. I say “it’s sissy’s, but you can have it.” He says “Yay!” and he sits down and starts shoveling everything in.  A three for the price of one meal.  I like this.

Here’s a picture of him.

This could be a whole discussion about boys, and I’m quite sure he will be our dinner garbage pail as he grows older, but the point I’m trying to make here as a parent is: “lighten up”

I’m not even talking about discipline really, I’m talking about how we reflect our perfectionism on to our kids. Sure, we want our kids to grow up to dress appropriately, smell like they take bath’s and have at least some manners. But maybe sometimes we go overboard on it.

I call this transformation in my life “the before and after cancer transformation.” I find it totally evident in my parenting. I’m pretty sure if you asked Charis, my oldest, she would agree. I think she can remember how worked up about things I would get. I wanted her dressed perfect, her hair perfect. And I expected this all from a highly ADHD child. Oh my, was I a wreck then.

I insisted they eat perfect food, and although I’m still quite crunchy, I’ve even lighten’ed up there as well….obviously since my kiddo’s were eating french fries!

I still struggle with the perfect image. I take it really hard if I think someone is being critical of my parenting. This is why, even though I’m opinionated about parenting, I try to be understanding rather than judgmental. Parents are different and so are children. Most of my judgment is directed towards so-called parenting guru’s that insist on having it all figured out. I roll my eyes when I see titles that insinuate you can change your child in a week….yeah, and totally break their spirit while you’re at it! Or that your child can be happier than all the rest. And don’t get me started on the notible inexistence of books on parenting written by moms in mainstream media. Ummm….hmmm….sir, did you stay home with your children, and THAT’S why you can write this book with authority? Probably not. This only serves to depress parents (and moms) who don’t get the response they were looking or hoping for. It’s a pipe dream that can’t be met. We’re asking children to be adults and they are not.

We can all want the perfect baby and the perfect child, but it probably isn’t going to happen. Perfect children are rare and are usually only witnessed by friends of perfect parents (as in….wow, your child seems perfect.). Or, in some cases, they have been broken in to perfection because they have no choice in the matter. Which usually backfires in the long run.  A child that is afraid will either learn to be sneaky or be really bad decision makers as adults.

And you know, since this realization hit me, it has been so freeing as a parent. I love more, and I feel loved more. The anxiety has decreased which means my stress level is operational. I have more fun with my children. We are all healthier.

Cancer has helped me focus on bigger issues and to let go of the smaller ones.

So Elijah is allowed to get extra dirty and wet when playing outside. Clothes don’t really matter and if they can’t get dirty, you spent too much.  I am required to come see whatever he is doing these days.  He insists on showing me everything.  Standing on his head, connecting trains, something cool on the computer.  I must stop whatever I’m doing.  Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. 

And Meleah never ever matches when she dresses, and even though I have claimed Sunday as a “mommy-pick-day” it usually doesn’t happen. Or I go pick her dress and then she picks tights and shoes to go with it, which totally defeats the purpose of a “mommy-pick-day.”  I just try to remember she’s my budding “fashionista.”

And Charis. Oh my sweet Charis. She plays more with boys than she does with girls now because she’s a tomboy who doesn’t like sports I guess…..if there is such a thing. She’s my sweet, cute, blond, ADHD child who passes out sunshine like it’s candy. She finds treasures in everything and turns them in to art. She will get on her hands and knees in stores to find the treasures hidden under the shelves.

And instead of blowing a fuse. I just say over and over and over again. “Please get up off the floor sweetie.”

One day she will decide it is really not cool to crawl around on her hands and knee’s. But until then, I will continue to remind her.

And I’m not the only one who says “quit being a perfectionist.” God wants us to “de-stress” too. I have taken liberties if you don’t mind. Here’s what Matthew 6:31-33 says:

“If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you (your kids), take pride in you (your kids), do his best for you (your kids)? What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

And isn’t that how it is. We’re worried about getting the perfect kids. He’s already given us the perfect kids.

Just. right. for. us.

So lighten up.

Meet Ned

I need to admit something.  There’s someone else in my life besides Jeremy.  His name is NED.  I met NED right around the time they removed my breasts.  In fact, it was my surgeon who introduced me to NED.  She was ecstatic, she thought we’d be a hit from the very start.  And she was right, I liked him.  He was handsome and clean.  I like clean.  At first I felt really relieved to meet NED.  I had this image in my mind of what NED would be like, perfect actually…. absolutely perfect.  I figured NED and I could go on living together and we’d be one big happy family.  I figured Jeremy would get used to this other person in my life.  I like NED and I figured he would too.

But after a while I realized that just like Jeremy, NED comes with his own issues.  I mean….you know, he looks clean, he wasn’t fat or anything like that, he fit “within the margins” of what a good-looking person should look like, but then he got kind of high maintenance on us.  For example, we’d just be going along alright, everyone getting along and he’d make a really big issue out of nothing.  He’d insist it was a problem and we’d have to stop everything and focus on NED.  Like he was the only one in our family.  Jeremy would take it in stride, but I’d get worked up.  Sure, I’d try to look cool and collected, but NED really was making me mad and sad all at the same time.  He can be very selfish sometimes.

Then sometimes NED would be so great we’d just forget about him.  We’d forget even that he was a part of the family.  We’d get going in the busyness of life and forget how great NED actually was and how much we liked having him around.  Sometimes we would get irritated with each other or we’d just plain ignore NED and yell at each other.  We really wanted NED to be a reminder of how much people matter, family matters, but sometimes he’d be so quiet we’d just plain forget.

NED was always great about accompanying me to all my doctor appointments.  Even after my plastic surgery and my little nip/tucks, he would remind me he was still here.  The doctor would come out of surgery and say something nice about NED like “so glad to see NED in surgery.”  This always made me happy. 

Sometimes I would get scared I lost NED, if he left for a little while I got nervous, but he never really actually left me.  After my scans or procedures, or little cancer scares, handsome NED would pop his head up over the scan machine and say “boo! you thought I was gone, didn’t you!”  And I’d laugh and give NED a hug.  Sometimes I’d even cry when I’d see NED.  It would make me so scared when I thought he was gone.

The kids are a little confused by NED, but they really don’t fully understand why he needs to be here.  Cancer was confusing to them too.  It’s better this way I think.  I don’t really want them to fully understand just yet.  Sometimes they ask me questions like “Why do you have to have cancer mommy?”  I remind them I don’t have cancer because NED came to live with us instead.  It usually resolves their curiosity until the next time they see me getting in the shower or changing my clothes and I have to remind them again why NED is here.

The truth is, Jeremy and I are best friends.  We’re inseparable.  When I want to share something cool that happened to me during the day, I think of Jeremy.  When I want someone to comfort me when I’m sad, I want Jeremy.  But I’m quite fond of NED.  I think NED is an important part of my life.  He’s not always easy to live with, but I’d prefer his moody nature, than to live without him.

So after two years with NED, we’ve decided he can stay, and we really hope and pray he decides to stick around too.

Here I am before we ever imagined NED coming in to our lives. I think if you would have told me about NED then I would have laughed at you!


Here I am right before NED moved in. If you really want to know how I know this....a. the saggy normal breasts. b. I would not be wearing this shirt post-mastectomy and c. the bald head stuble.


Here I am cuddling with Elijah. You can tell I enjoy having NED around. I think my face looks happier and healthier.


Here I am celebrating my new breasts with Jeremy and NED. Do I look happy or what? This is 5 days post-DIEP and yes, you do see a bit of cleavage!

Here I am leaning on NED. It's nice to feel somewhat normal again.


(NED is an abbreviation for No Evidence of Disease.  This is the term they give my cancer status.  I hope NED sticks around, how about you?)

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Locker-Room Phobia

I’m not one to avoid going out if I don’t have make-up on.  I quite often throw on a coat over my PJ’s and slide in to some big boots to drive my daughter down to school.  I’m just waiting for the day that I, for some unforseen reason have to get out of my mint green mini-van at the school in front of professionally dressed parents in my old, well warn PJ’s with a pattern that resembles lucky charms. 

The day is coming.  And I am prepared.  Seriously. 

But here’s what I’m not prepared for.  Ever. 

It strikes a fear in me like no other.

Are you ready…’s THE LOCKER ROOM.  Yes, the locker room. 

I feel a bit like I’m back in 5th grade and you start to hit puberty and you realize you are changing, but aren’t sure changing is really ok, so you dread being naked in front of 20 other girls after gym class. 

It’s that kind of fear. 

Now, I’m not so fearful of the normal women’s locker room.  I don’t fear damaging anyone for life when they might see my scarred and nipple-less breasts, but I do worry about the shock factor.  Like, whao….I was not expecting that.  Because frankly, lets just be honest here.  Breasts without nipples is a bit scary.  

Even I was scared after my initial reconstruction.  It just looks, well, different.

But here’s what really gets me nervous.   The locker room at the water park in town where I take my kids, that’s what makes me nervous.  You see, my children are used to seeing my body.  But other children aren’t.  And there are no family changing areas there and no curtains to hide behind.  Just me, the locker room and young children all curious and wondering why I look so different.   I caught a teenage girl staring the other day.  And I’m quick.  Super quick.  You’ve not seen someone change from a bathing suit to a shirt as fast as I can.  The problem lies in how wet the shirt gets.

So the other day I came in to this locker room and started helping my kids get ready.  And there stood several women from my children’s school. 

Lovely.  Just lovely.

I am wrapped in a towel, I look horrible, dripping wet, and they are standing next to me chatting.  One of them says, “are you an Angling Mom?”  I look slowly at this woman and smile a nervous smile, as she proceeds to say “you drive a green mini-van.”  Yes, yes I say. 

I really want to melt in to the floor at this moment.

I can’t believe the predicament I’m in.  I have three children yelling and screaming at me to get their clothes.  And my kids, bless their hearts, don’t get it.  And Jeremy would get really angry if he thought I was being all self-conscious about my body in front of the girls.  So I’m draped in a towel in front of women that RECOGNIZE me.  Shoot.  What to do.  I did what any other laid back mother who recently went through reconstruction surgery for breast cancer would do.  I LEFT my children to fend for themselves and I found a bathroom stall to get dressed.  Thank goodness my 3-year-old didn’t run off. 

I just couldn’t bear to change right in front of these women who may/may not know I’ve had breast cancer. 

If I were being really truthful, this really is one of the hardest thing for me to deal with emotionally.  It sends me in to a pathetic emotional downer.  I dread it before we go and I dread it as we leave.   It takes me a day or two to recover. 

Until the next locker room trip.

But like everything else,  I will not let fear keep me from enjoying life.   I will conquer the locker room for the sake of my children’s water park adventure.  But man, am I so tempted to skip it. 

Can any other breast cancer survivors relate.  You’ll make me feel SO much better if you tell me you can.  Or better yet, overcame your locker room fear.

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The Cure for Acne

My three year old was cuddling with me before bed last night and he discovered my zit.  Now, to give you some background in to how we have handled the breast cancer and mastectomies and all the surgeries with our kids is to tell them mommy’s “nana’s” were sick.  They had an ouwee and the doctor had to take them off.  So here is the conversation about the zit (which I have been battling ever since my hormones kicked back in after treatment… I can say I’ve been to menopause and back thank-you very much….lol!)

Elijah: “What is this Mommy?” (concerned and picking at the same time)

Me:  “It’s an ouwee Elijah, don’t pick at it” (pushing his hand away)

Elijah:  “oh” (trying to pick some more, looking at it closely) “There’s another one”

Me: “Thank-you Elijah, I have a few.”

Elijah:  “Mommy, maybe you need to go to the doctor and have him cut them off.”

Me and Jeremy:  (Laughing and looking at each other)

So I guess what we have taught our children is that if it’s sick and it’s an ouwee, you may as well go to the doctor and have him/her cut it off.   He made it sound so simple.

If only a zits and cancer were really that easy to treat.

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Snow Day

At 7:00 am I love snow days. Jeremy comes in and turns off the alarm and I get a few more minutes of sleep before Meleah climbs in to my bed and squirms and coughs and makes little sounds because she’s wide awake and doesn’t want to go out in the living room by herself. So then Elijah starts to wake up and starts his ritual of playing with my ears. I would love this except he starts to get really in to it and pulls super hard so I have to keep swatting him away. And by noon I begin to wonder why I was looking forward to a snow day because:
A. I didn’t really get to sleep in.
B. Even as I speak I am breaking up some fight.
C. I have to constantly think of something to do.
D. My middle child won’t leave me alone till I go outside with her.

So today we made Valentine’s cookies. I hate making sugar cookies. If it requires a cookie cutter I am usually not all that excited. I’m really a spoon and plop kind of girl. Or better yet, plop it in a pan and bake it into bars kind of girl.

But today we made frosted Valentines cookies and I will have to say the frosting is divine. I make a wicked sour cream frosting with lemon juice and lemon flavoring instead of vanilla. I’m a huge lemon fan.

Thought you might enjoy seeing our snow day cookie making party. Lots of licking going on.

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Minor Crisis

I was called out of church on Sunday to attend to my little Meleah.  I hate to admit it but I almost always think they’ve been naughty.  I will place the blame squarely with Charis, my eight year old, because she had a biting issue that lasted from the time she could crawl till she was well into her three’s.  Nothing I did worked.  And trust me, I tried it all.  Finally I started reading her a book called “Teeth Are Not For Biting,” and somehow she got the point.  But not until after she had been kicked out of the nursery for several months and yes, she did bite her preschool teacher on the first day of class.  I can laugh about it now, but my mom was with me on the first day of preschool and I sat on the sidewalk by our car and cried while she went back in to retrieve paperwork I had forgotten.   And you can imagine how this looked for me as a pastor…..pastor’s kid getting kicked out of the nursery.

Trust me, we tease Charis about this.  But only a little. 

So Meleah never gets in trouble and is a little angel for everyone but me, but I still thought….”oh crud, what did she do now!”  I feel bad about this, because I really wish my first thought would be like other moms….like “what has happened to my baby.”  Even when the school calls home I don’t think “are they ok,”  I think “what have they done!”  Does anyone else think this first or am I the only one….lol!  My second thought is usually, “are they hurt,”  but this is a definite second to “what did they do.”

So I found Meleah, and she’s with Miss Tiffany, and Meleah is in tears.  Tiffany is very calm but she warns me she’s been hurt but she stays very calm.  Miss Tiffany knows my Meleah well.  She will, without a doubt be a basket case if she thinks she’s bleeding.  So Tiffany and I carefully look at the wound and I hold Meleah.  Meleah is asking to look in a mirror.  I didn’t get a very close look at it, and I was a little scared to because the cut was just above her ear, and there was a part of me that thought her ear had separated.  So I held her and Tiffany went to get a friend who is a physicians assistant so he could assess our need to go get stitched up or not.  One look and he said yup….small but deep.  He told us they would probably use glue.  But I should tell you, the ear was not separated, so it wasn’t like it was hanging there or anything….like I had imagined when I first looked at it.

Because Jeremy is such a big softee with his girls, he wanted to take Meleah, and she wanted him to take her.  And quite frankly, I didn’t care to hold her while she screamed every time they looked at it, so he took her  to the ER. 

When she gets home, she’s so proud of her battle scar from her tiff with the wall (she ran in to a wall while dancing with friends).  She is very careful to follow EXACT directions from the doctor.  We are not allowed to touch it.  She is careful not to get it wet.  Even tonight when she got in to bed she asked Jeremy which side her wound was on so she could lay on the other side.   Meleah is very much our cautious and conscientious child. 

And all I have to say is….so small, so well glued, she won’t be able to locate that scar in a few weeks….I am so jelous =)

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“I Love You Mama.”

Yesterday I was cuddling with Elijah before his nap.  I got in to bed and snuggled up to him and he snuggled back, wrapping his little arms around my neck and putting his little face right at mine.  I said “I love you Elijah,”  and he said “I love you mama” right back to me.  I can’t even tell you how much I love this….when my children start doing that.  I don’t think it occurs to them to reciprocate this saying until a certain age, but when they do, it takes your breath away.  It just makes me want to cry with happiness.  That they would, of their own free will, tell me that they love me.  It just boggles my mind.  But it is so fulfilling.

It also get’s me thinking about how often as a child of God I forget to reciprocate God’s love.  I’m like a child waiting for Christmas “gimme this,” and “gimme that.”  Quick to offer up my prayer requests and wants, but not so quick to offer my affection to Him.  I’m pretty sure God doesn’t get as frustrated with me as I get with my kids when they are constantly “wanting” something more from me.  But I wonder if we take His breath away, so to speak, if He stops in His tracks, or a tear comes to His eyes when we slow down, enough, to actually adore, and love our creator, our heavenly parent, the one who loves us beyond compare or imagination?

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Last week I was at our family physician’s office.  It’s a busy place with lots of commotion.  If I didn’t like our doctor so much I wouldn’t go there.  Then there’s my kids, who, for some reason decide that a physician always needs to see how active and completely annoying they can be.  Maybe this proves some sort of health and well-being in a child, but I HATE taking my children to the doctor’s office.  All three of them at the same time is a complete zoo.  Then, the added craziness of the office is total chaos.  My only salvation in this mess lately has been my iphone.  Crazy, but true.  If you have a toddler, the iphone can save you much grief.  It’s all in the applications.  You can download many of them for free and they have animal sounds, shapes, ABC’s, matching, you name it.  It will keep Elijah content for quite a while.  The problem is when all three of them are with me and they decide to fight over the phone.  Then it’s not so fun.  But Elijah usually wins the battle because he cries the loudest and he can’t sit still for more than a millionth of a second without deciding to climb the chairs and warm-up the stirrups. 

So it’s always an adventure when I head to see Dr. S.   But he always seems to enjoy Elijah and the girls and he doesn’t seem the least bothered by them, nor does he seem like he thinks my kids are overly crazy.  Most doctors tell me this is somewhat normal for young children.  Maybe it’s the lighting?

So when we went to leave the other day, I went up to the reception desk and I have to sign the paperwork really quick usually and then I leave.  I’m pretty sure we have met our out-of-family maximum with our deductible, so I’m really not sure what we owe on our co-pay so I always tell them to send us the bill.  And anyone with cancer knows, you decide how much you can pay each month and you just start making payments.  And since I had my major reconstruction in April, I’m quite certain we’re pretty close at this point.  So the office manager happens to be at the registration desk as I check out, and she asks me if I have a co-pay….and I say, “I’m not really sure,”  I’m pretty sure we’ve met our deductible at this point so I’m not sure what we owe.”  And with that she said “lucky you.” 

So my kids were already running out the door so I had to leave, but if I hadn’t had three kids with me that I had to tear after, I would have gone back in and done a reality check with her.  Because this is what I have to say…..and she should know this because she works with medical bills…..but I AM NOT LUCKY to have reached my deductible….lol!  If you have reached your deductable in this day and age, chances are you either have dynamic insurance or someone in your family is seriously ill.  And there’s a really great chance it’s the later possibility.    Oh, or maybe I’m a hypochondriac who visits the doctor WAY too much because I have health insurance, and in that case, well, maybe then I would be considered lucky.

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