L.P.D.C. "Who am I?"

http://rethinkchurch.org/article/lenten-photo-day-challenge

My dear friend, Erica, encouraged me on facebook to participate in a photo-of-the-day Lenten challenge. I decided to go for it. The link above will explain. So I thought I'd post them here with just a few words. If this is too introspective, please forgive me. I try not to do too much navel-gazing or philosophize too much here but Lent is a time of renewal... so I'm doing it.

The first day's prompt is "Who am I?"

"Who am I?"

I was known in my family/circle/pool-that-i-lifeguarded-at for always having my toes done. It's my thing. The pedi has always got to be fresh. I've had a foot obsession all of my life (as my parents will attest). Currently my toes are painted in a sandy textured purple glitter polish. No one in my current/recent life knows this about me unless they've seen me in sandals.

Maybe it's because I'm a mom or maybe it's because I'm a wife. Maybe it's because I no longer work  for a paycheck. Maybe it's because I am recovering from a bout with the flu and household stress has been weighing pretty heavy on me... or maybe it's because I've washed and folded and put away what feels like a dozen loads of laundry over the past 2 days... but some days I feel like I've lost myself. Like "Katy: The individual" is taking a backseat to a mountain of laundry. 

I initially took a photo of two little backpacks. 

I had just filled them. "Who am I? I'm a mom, I guess. " I thought.

Up to the point where I picked up my camera to take this shot last minute, I had just spent every second of  today being "Mama". I took one potty, carried the other downstairs, made little breakfasts, changed a diaper, put little shirts and pants and socks on little bodies, smooched little faces, wiped little noses, folded and hung up more little clothes than you could shake a stick at,broke up a fight then it was time  to make lunch...I could go on but I won't because I think you probably get the idea.  I didn't have time to drink water.  I was non-stop moving.

"So maybe I should take a picture of the backpacks I just filled" I thought.

And then I looked down...

I saw my purple glitter toes looking up at me from the kitchen floor I've walked across hundreds of times today alone... Kissing "bonked noggs", giving lots of hugs, making little tiny peace treaties with my little tiny humans that God blessed me with. 

This is my life.

But there they were. 

Staring back at me. The last vestige of my individual self.

In the picture they look far away and distant... You can't tell that they have glitter. You can't really even distinguish if they're even purple at all. 

That's Ok. 

I've always loved "making the ouchies go away" and cooking nourishing food for people that I love and hugging little tiny humans... The nature to nuture has always been a part of me, this wife-mama aspect. But Wife-Mama took a backseat while Purple Sparkly Toes did her thing. Now it's Purple Sparkly Toes turn to sit back. This is not her time to shine. 

This is Wife-Mama's season. (Purple Sparkly Toes is still there, though.)

Romans 12:15

Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep. 

There is not a single parent or teacher in this country unable to feel the same aching pit of grief deep in the gut that I've had since hearing the news on Friday. Most of us have no connection to anyone in Newtown, Ct but it doesn't matter. Those twenty little faces may have just as well been in our scout troop or on our swim team or running past us in the church hall. Those teachers are the same teachers we bravely (but confidently) trust our most precious treasures to at the beginning of every school year (and rightfully so. They EACH gave their life attempting to protect their little students).

This feels local.

And it should. 

It should feel personal. 

Because it could happen anywhere. Be it in an Amish school house or at the local elementary school two blocks away. 

Right now 26 families are planning funerals.

20 families are trying to decide what to do with the Christmas gifts that their 6 and 7 year olds will never open. 

With the beds that didn't get made friday morning.

 With a laundry basket full of size 6x play clothes. 

How to remind the baby of the big brother she'll barely remember in 3 years time but won't stop asking for now. 

Some people have said that it's because we kicked God out of schools. As if God would EVER abandon these little ones. As if GOD caused or willed this evil act to happen. 

Not MY God.

 My God is a loving God. 

He instilled the bravery in these courageous teachers. He erased the fear these children surely must have felt. He HOLDS THESE FAMILIES CLOSE.
He lost a Son as well. 

It's personal for God too. 

Please join me in continuing to pray for our teachers, our students, our schools, our Country and our law makers. Please pray that Mental Health Care becomes more easily accessible than the weapon used to ruin 26 families. Please pray for safety in our schools.
Please pray for these forever changed families that they find peace.

This boy...

Turned 3 last week.

My sweet, beautiful Declan has grown up so much this last year. He LOVES rocket ships, bubbles, books, firetrucks and "playing guys"(This is like playing cars or trucks but with good guys/bad guys action figures but in Declan world they all are friends and practice manners ... "Oh NO, Pider man, are You ok?" "Yeah, Gween Gwobin, I OK!")  and he LOVES being a big brother. He listens and minds his mama 95% of the time and he's such a loving guy! He is quick with a laugh and a universe-brightening smile!

Benjamin Declan England, you are such a brilliant ball of joy! You make me so incredibly proud to be your mama EVERY SINGLE DAY! I hope you never lose your exuberant belly laugh, your intense curiosity and that beautifully kind heart (just like your daddy!). You make up for a hundred bad guys, Declan England, and the world is so much better as long as your little feet are walking on it!

Hot, Cranky and Annoyed.

It has been hot here. I mean really hot. We just moved into our new house and within days, the AC went out and then temperatures soared into the high 90's and low 100's. What. The. CRAP! 

Holy Redheaded-baby- in-the-Shade, Batman. 

We tried hard to find ways to keep the boys entertained AND ALSO beat the heat. Our biggest wins were the water table...

and the sprinkler...

I should also mention that the boys have recently decided to take their brotherly-loving relationship to the next level...

With noogies...

Choke holds, wailing...

Eye pokes...

and whining to try and deflect the trouble and make one's self look totally innocent. 

Good times. 

It's completely not given me a headache in the least bit... 

Oh wait, No, it has.

And if one more person tells me that I have my "Hands full" I may actually cry. 

(I hear that phrase at least 5 times an hour if I have both the boys together )

I don't think people realize how insulting it is when they say that to a mother brave enough to take her two wild, but very loved and treasured babies out to target (or the grocery store or to just run errands because how else are these things going to get done???). 

I really feel good about myself and capable (and maybe even a little bit like I can actually handle it) when I've got Aengus on my hip and Declan by the hand... 

but then some well-meaning member of the peanut gallery shatters that with a thoughtless figure of speech and I am crushed.

All I can think is "What a mess I must look like..."

 It's never from people who know what it's like to have babies back to back (or even multiples). 

Those people are the ones that end up making my day with their comments of 

"It will get better, Dear."

 and

 "Do your best to enjoy it because it goes by much too fast"

or

 "You are doing SUCH a great job." 

In order to avoid ending this blog on a grumpy note, I'm going to post pictures from Father's day weekend of some of my favorite, heart-exploding images of AWESOMENESS...

Baby Cousin Automotive repair...

"I'm just gonna poke this dot right here, Britton, let's see if that does the trick..."
"That's smart thinking, Aengus. It'll probably work..."

"Success!!!"

Awesome, slightly older boy cousins who know how to have a great time on a leaf-covered trampoline

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery...

My whole wide world on a picnic table bench...

Happy July!

Dear Aengus...

Dear Sweet Aengus,

          June 1st was your due date. Can you imagine how incredibly large you would have been had you baked another 3 weeks? Holy smokes. I'm still stunned. I know I should have written this post to/for/about you when you turned one on May 11th. Please know that I was really just waiting on the family party so that I could post pictures of you with your big boy cupcake. It had nothing to do with putting in an offer on a house on your actual birthday. I swear. It also had nothing to do with procrastinating due to the fact that I just can't bear to wrap my mind around how it's already been over an entire year since you looked like this:

I can't swear to that one, though. 

I really cannot believe it's only been a year since you were born. Reflecting on the experience of when you and I shared a body and then when you were born, what sticks out in my mind the most about that time is how palpable the feeling of falling in love with you was. And how immediate. 

Maybe it's because you had been through so much with me already by the time you were born. You were the promise of light during a very dark time in my life. I was so miserable and depressed in Lynchburg but then there was you. The promise of you reached a place inside of me that even your darling brother and your amazing father couldn't touch. You were on your way through the entire time and the hope of meeting you was what pulled me through.

 And then, suddenly, there you were, Precious Boy, and I couldn't smell your perfect scent or let any part of my body graze your perfect skin without instantly falling asleep in a dizzying, oxytocin-induced haze. You made it all better, Aengus. You lifted my depression and made my whole world bright again.

And all it took was your smile. 

I cannot believe how seamlessly you fit into our family. How lucky we are that we got yet another happy baby (Two in a row?!? WOW!!!) and how much you've changed in just a year's time. You've gone from a roly-poly punkin' head...

To a lanky, leggy wild boy in the blink of an eye. 

All the while, doling out the sunshine wherever you go.

Aengus, I am so incredibly proud of how you talk and play and climb. How you roll with the punches...

But take every bit of it in stride...

You do everything your own way and in your own time...

And your smile brightens our world, beautiful boy!

Thank you for giving me a year that was so amazing that I wish I could rewind and live it all over again. 

Happy First Birthday, Aengus!

May you have a hundred more!

A.D.H.D. melt-down.

The past 2 and a half weeks have looked like this:

My Mama (Or "Gramma" as she's known around these parts) had a non-life-threatening medical emergency that required emergency surgery and a brief medical suspension of driving privileges.

My Daddy (A.K.A. "Grandaddy") then followed that up with a non-life-threatening medical emergency and a brief medical suspension of driving privileges of his own.

Got my hair did. And dyed some of it pink. It's cute and I don't have a boss to dictate inappropriate so party on, Wayne. 

Easter (Holy Salvation, Batman...And too much candy.)

A plane ride to Buffalo by myself. Oh wait... Did I just say "By Myself"? I had both children with me. (Ben stayed home because he had to work)

 Neither child has hit the ripe old age of 3 yet.

Full flights. Most definitely not alone. 

Seven nights of sharing a bedroom with both of my sons.

And of not playing footsie with my sweet husband. 

Return flight back to Tennessee with both boys in tow.
(I threatened to leave the big one a time or two) 

567 images uploaded from camera onto computer.

CRAAAAP! 

Now I have to delete and edit.

**Overwhelmed and shuts down**

In case you've ever wondered...

Here's what I look like. 

I think it's very telling that I'm out of focus in this photo.

Have a nice day. 

The illusion of perfect mothering...

Someone called me "such a good mother" today.... I KNOW, Right? Obviously, she missed the blog about Aengus rolling off the changing table. I looked behind me to see if there was another, more put-together woman with a well-behaved child standing behind me in line because MY SON (the one in the dirty t-shirt and the animal-cracker-crumb fu manchu ) had just butt-shoved the lady in front of us in line. He then proceeded to roll around on the floor of T.J. Maxx(which he calls "Mama Mac!"because... gosh, I dunno. Maybe he thinks she'd like it.)  in an attempt to lather up his total rage and frustration at HAVING LIFE SO INCREDIBLY EASY into a full-tilt, multi-octave tantrum. She could not have possibly meant me. But she did.

I apologized to her friend and then I stopped the tantrum by encouraging him to sing a theme song to a TV show (one of many) he watches ALL THE TIME. It worked... and then he got a book as a treat.

And then I had to muscle him back into his carseat while he bucked and hollered.

And I potty trained him using candy and toys and bribery.

And sometimes we eat lunch in front of the t.v.

Also, my son knows a lyric to "I'm sexy and I know it..." (blame his uncles and his father for that one).

My point is this... I'm not perfect. I'm ridiculous. I'm not even that great of a mother. I'm doing the best I can. Sometimes I cuss. Frequently, I loose my patience with the boys and yell about 100% more than I need to out of sheer frustration. I'm trying every day to improve but the truth is that I was a waaaaay better parent before I had actual human children.

I want to be a great mom.

 A mom with well-behaved children.

A mom who doesn't raise her voice.

 A mom that has it all together.

I I know my blog is typically happy and my pictures are bright and vivid but I've got a very long way to go. Don't believe me? Look closer...

This baby is FILTHY! 

(and happy. Good enough. )