Momma, he's not being cooplative.

When I heard Brody scream "Momma" I went running to his bedroom and there he was diapering his stuffed Mickey Mouse on his bed. There was a pile of wipes on the floor and the diaper that I had put on Mickey months ago was nowhere in sight. "What's the trouble, sir?" I asked Brody and that's when he said it. "Momma, he's not being cooplative." I looked at Mickey, an inanimate object, and in my adult, logical mind thought the obvious. Why won't Mickey lift his buns? He's just laying there ignoring the instructions of my son? What is his problem!?! Of course, I stifled my laugh and helped Brody with the diaper. "Where's the old one, babe?" "I put it the Diaper Genie!" "Oh, okay."

Jump to the next day. There he is again, after sitting Mickey on the potty (unused) chair, putting a fresh diaper on him. This time, I guess I blinked when he did it, but Mickey lifted his buns because Brody said, "Lift your buns. Good buoy. There you go." "Here son, let me take the old one for you." "It's okay, Momma I can handle it." Then it struck me. Doesn't Brody realize how frustrating it is when he doesn't listen to me just the same way Mickey gave him the silent treatment the day before? Shouldn't he get it now? But then the thought struck me that I must do that to God all the time. How often do we lay there and not lift our buns when God is telling us to, "Do what needs to be done. I'm telling you what to do. Get off your buns now, do it." Some of us ignore Him; some of us don't know how to listen. Some of us don't know how to do what
He wants us to do and some of us aren't sure that what we thought we were told to do is really what we should be doing if things didn't go the way we thought they would. Can we only "handle it" when things go smoothly? Do we yell when things don't go the way we think they should? Probably, yes. But God always has a plan and those are the times when we can call on our Father and he will come running. He will always be there for us.

Momma, they call him Pizza. No, honey they have English accents. They're saying Peter.

Isn't it funny how we hear things so differently? It's like that telephone game when everyone gets all the words messed up. We really do have to be careful what we say and how we say it. E-mail is not always the best way to communicate. It cannot take the place of the phone! When I write e-mails I write them as if I were talking to the person and I hear myself saying it how I would be saying it if they were standing right next to me. But they can't hear me so what sounds good in my head can really be a disaster in print. I e-mailed an old friend and when Davey read what I wrote he thought I sounded really harsh. But write, "Just stand there." and say it in your head, softly, as if you're looking at your darling and engraving their image in your mind before you are apart for several days. Now write it again and think of it as an overwhelmed mother trying to dress an uncooperative child. "Just stand there." You see. So if I wrote it softly and they read it motherly, well there you go. So, I want all of my loved ones to know that if I ever write "I love you" it doesn't mean I want to marry you (very happily married, thank you), if I ever write "What happened?!" it doesn't mean I'm mad. Believe me if I'm mad you won't say "She sounds kind of mad." or "She must be upset with me." You will absolutely know without a doubt that I'm mad or hurt. I'll tell you. Because in print, without the voice to go with it, you just never know for sure. By the way, I love you and I'm not mad at you.

Brody, don't put food in your ear.

Last week was a week of firsts. The first time Brody ever put food in his ear, the first time he put wadded up paper in his nose, the first time he used the toilet. Rhys didn't try to crawl off the bed for the first time. Even Davey had a first. It was the first "first" he's ever seen. Being the breadwinner has kept him from witnessing all of our children's firsts. But he was there for the first toilet trip. It's sad to me that he's missed so much but I guess most fathers do. He adores his boys and they adore him. It feels good to see them get so excited when he gets home from work. Brody did the "happy flappy" when he was a baby, flapping his little arms like a bird in flight as fast as he could, whenever he was happy or excited. Why can't we do the things we did when we were children? I mean if I did the happy flappy when I met someone at Disneyland what would people think? Can you picture it? Rhys does the "happy clappy". But the happy clappy isn't a regular clap. He puts his hands parallel to each other horizontally and then slaps the backs of his hands alternating between the two as though he's playing that hand layering game. You know the one I mean where one person puts his hand down and everyone else follows suit. When all of the hands have been layered the hand on the bottom is pulled out and laid on the top of the pile. And everyone does that as fast as they can. Well, that's Rhys. A one man game. He goes it alone; he flys solo; he does his own thing. Very independent and very much like his momma. The thing is you have to know your limits and your boundaries. I know my boundaries but not my limits. At times I underestimate them and at times I overestimate them. Davey and I set the boundaries for our boys but I don't want their limits to be set by my fears. I want them to learn their own limits. I wanted my son to know that he is capable of doing a somersault. I know my physical limits but I ignored them and went for it. It's a good thing I decided to try it after he went to bed just in case I killed myself. Rhys learned, somehow, that you shouldn't crawl off the edge of the bed. He has never fallen off so what does he realize now that he didn't last week? However babies figure it out they learn that boundary. But he has not learned his limits. He'll turn around and sit with his back to the edge. Then I have to catch him when he leans back too far. Yep, he's his momma's boy. Good thing I have God to catch me when I lean back too far. Him and Davey. Even though I'm not what you'd call a crowd follower I still need others. The problem is that even in that area I'm still learning the limits. Either I love too much or not enough. In matters of the heart I never did do anything half-way. It's all or nothing. So I'm either perceived as needy or the ice princess. That is what makes Davey perfect for me. When I met him my walls were just beginning to come down thanks to my close friend, Brian and his roommate Chris. The walls almost immediately crumbled with Davey but stayed up for most others. He understands that about me and loves me anyway. Anyone else would be confused by my personality but Love has way of overcoming or overlooking our faults. With Davey and my handful of friends I am needy. I hope they love me anyway because I sure do love them.

By the way, if you haven't done a somersault in about twenty years it really hurts your back. Believe me I know.

Momma, there's orange poop in my cup. No, honey you mean orange pulp.

When my son said this I decided it was time to start a blog. I know everyone has these moments with their children when they say and hear things they never thought they would. Life is full of surprises and twists and turns. Some days I don't know if my friend is still my friend. Am I forgotten or is my unnamed person just busy? But for now, I know that my son loves me. I am his comfort and his support and without me he wouldn't know how to survive. It is a really good feeling to be so trusted and loved but it's scary to realize that such a precious gift was given to me. What if I mess up? For some reason God did entrust me with this gift. I hope and pray that I won't disappoint. Now I have to put all my faith and trust in Him just like my child. Without Him I wouldn't know how to survive. Thank you Brody and Rhys for the lessons you teach me. Thank you God for the lessons you teach me through them. Maybe now I know why You trusted me with such a gift. It's Good to be loved!