Politically Correct

There are some things in parenting that just come as second nature.  Things like clothing, feeding, changing.  Not necessarily at first, but with the day to day being basically the same for months at a time, your brain starts to just go on auto pilot.  As they get older even the questions are basically the same.  "Mommy, I want a cookie", "Mommy I want to watch tv", "Mommy I want to take my clothes off", with the answers being pretty redundant.  "No."  But then, every once in a while your kids will ask you something that throws you for a loop.

They seem so innocent...

Picture this scenario.  My oldest is 4 going on 12 and she tends to have a little bit of sass when she is trying to communicate with me.  She thinks she's funny.  (Which, she is.  But it still doesn't warrant the way she thinks she can talk to me.  We are working on it.)  So today we are in the car on the way to her speech class and she is complaining that she doesn't want to go.  I try to entice her with all the wonderful things she will get to do in school.

"Don't you want to play with your friends at school?  Like Jaci and Bea?"
A simple statement.  Well, she replys with:
"Aha!  You don't know my black friends name!"  As she chuckles to herself.

How do I explain that she can't say that?  So I reply with:
"You can't call her your black friend."
"Why?"
"Because her color shouldn't matter.  She should just be your friend."

Which she replys with:
"But she's black!"  Adding an eye roll to indicate just how ignorant I really am.

It made me start to really question why this wasn't an appropriate way to name somebody.  How do you explain political correctness to a 4 year old?  I mean, when she put it that way, my argument really did seem ridiculous. "Because you just can't" doesn't seem like a realistic reason to a four year old.

Then it got me thinking. This is the only black kid in her class.  Why can't we describe her that way?  It would make the selection a lot quicker.  I mean even "Guess Who" asks if they're black or white!  You're not going to ask if your person has glasses without asking what color they are first.  That's just the first way to lose!

Which lead me to thinking.  Don't black people describe their white friends as so?  Uh, yeah.  They do.  Because I have been introduced as the "White friend" before.  Was I offended?  No.  I mean, I kinda stood out.  More like glowed, I guess.

So why is this even an issue?  What should I really be teaching my kids?  If color really isn't an issue does that mean we ignore it completely or does that mean we just take it for granted?  What's the first word you would use to describe grass?  Green.  Does it make it any less grass?  Does tolerance really mean to be color blind?  I personally think we lose a lot if we just pretend it's not there.

How many black women who love their hair and their color?  Should I ignore the very thing they are most proud of?  I feel like that would be even more offensive.  To pretend it doesn't exist.  And what am I supposed to tell my own daughters?  Not just my white one.  What is the best way to explain the correct way to express differences?  Ignore them?  Or celebrate them?

No matter what we do we are going to look different, and that's what makes us God's gift to each other.    The world would be lifeless if we didn't have so many different colors, faces and bodies.  How boring to look like each other.  That's the very reason we hated uniforms growing up.  We didn't want to look the same!  So why should we now?

You know what?  I'm going to celebrate it!

"You know what love?  You are right!  She is black.  So tell me, what is her name again?"
"I don't know.  She's just my friend."

That's right.

Antenella

Christmas Cheer!

Ah, Christmas.  It is both the most magical and most frustrating time to have one toddler, let alone three.  I just wonder if my mother ever went through the nights of blissful sleep just to be jolted awake by the date on the calendar popping into her dreams.  Seriously folks!  I have like three maybe three and a half weeks before the jolly red giant graces us with his presents.  By the way... Spoiler alert!  That's me!

I hear ya, lady! 

Holy Crap.  Christmas is here!  I'm having a hard time being jolly and remembering the reason for the season when I look at my calendar and wonder when I'm going to get the time to pull my christmas bulbs from my attic so that my tree downstairs in the living room has more then just a string of lights on it come Christmas morning.

It's not supposed to be like this.  It's supposed to be fun. Christmas is supposed to be magic!  It's the one day a year where you can actually believe in miracles.  Because for the first time ever it is actually surrounded by a real miracle.  Even if you don't yet know of the glory of God there was a moment in time that you believed in Santa.  No matter what happened during the year, Christmas morning restored your faith.  Your faith in people, your faith in love and yes, even at 12 years old, your faith in magic.

So where's the magic?!  I have nothing but amazing memories surrounding the Christmas holidays.  There was never ending parties, and get togethers.  I remember coming home to Christmas cookies and doing Christmas crafts.  I even remember sitting under the Christmas tree watching the lights until I fell asleep.  I am fearful that my kids are missing out since it is increasingly more difficult to keep up these traditions.

It seemed that Christmas 10, 15, or 20 years ago was a different creature.  Toys cost 10$ not 50$ plus shipping.  And parties were friends, family and eggnog.  Not just another inconvenience.  Christmas was never just "one more thing you had to do" before the kids went back to school.  Why is it like this now?  How can it not be?  

I see those "Keep Christ in Christmas" bummer stickers and I think, "Yeah, that is the point right?"  but those fancy shmancy stickers don't tell you how.  They don't tell you how to not get caught up in the hustle and bustle of the season.  They don't tell you how to decompress after spending hours online trying to find a gift for your four year old that's not going to blow your entire budget.  They don't tell you how to schedule your calendar around your friends calendars so that maybe just maybe you can all be in the same place at the same time for a night of merry-making.

It used to be that you just had your holiday party and everyone came.  You just got the cutest toy with the most colors and they loved it.  You just made cookies and "God forbid" brought them to your kids school to share with the class.  I'm only 30 years old and I'm thinking about the good 'ol days.

Not in my classroom kid!
Peddle your cookies some place else!

This is terrible!

I tried to find a toy catalogue from Toys "r" us.  I called every store in a 50 mile radius, plus I went online and even called the 1-800 number.  And I got the same response with everyone I spoke too.
"Why would you want a catalog?  The coupons aren't valid anymore."

What?  Really?  That's not what a toy catalog is for!!  It's not about the coupons or the overpriced gadgets!  Its about making a letter to santa.  It's about relishing in the idea of tinsel and holiday making. It's about dreaming and wishing and asking and when Christmas morning comes, its about receiving!

Receiving something that you don't deserve.  Just because you are asked.  Just because you are special. Just because you are loved.

Isn't that's the real story of Christmas?

...

I think I just rediscovered Christmas for myself.  I guess I just needed to see it written down.

Antenella

Turning Two!

It has been quite a celebration in my house this past couple of days.  My son turned two yesterday but that hasn't stopped us from celebrating everyday before and after for the past month.  The kid has had three birthday cakes in the past 5 days. Seriously?  Who's idea is it to give a two year old that much sugar?

As the date come closer to my baby boy turning 2, I have been reflecting on what a joy he has been.
...

Actually, scratch that.  He has been a complete terror!  As I look at my past posts I realize that most of them are either centered around my son inherent need to destroy my sanity or his incredible ability to toy with his own life.  Between the screaming and the trips to the hospital, I'm pretty much spent.

For the first 9 months of his life all he did was cry.  No, not cry, scream... Like a banshee.  No joke.  He came out screaming like a two year old and it never really changed.  And now that he is actually two years old I can verify that it is in fact a two year old shrike.

He and I did not have a very good start.  In every way that my oldest was a joy, my son was a monster!  He never slept, he need to be constantly fed or held and he made it his job to cry as long and as loud as possible at home, in the car, at church, at target (same thing, right?)... Plus, it took him forever to walk and that kid was friggin heavy!!

I had constant battles over food and toys and attention.  As much as he's cry when he was with me, it would be doubled when I had to leave him somewhere.  God forbid I would have a date night with my husband.  I could hear the faint cry of "hussy" in his cloud of screaming as I would walk out the door.  So not only did he hate being with me, he equally hated not having me around.  Just like a man.

He taught me so much about myself that I honestly wish I had never had the opportunity to find out.  Like how I realized that I would rather give up food then alcohol or that my prayers for a happy child would just turn into desperate pleas for a nap that would last longer then 20 minutes.  Yes, it's true that I love my son but I sure didn't like him for a while there.  We spent so much time yelling and crying at each other that I was convinced that he hated me.  (Which might have true.)

But I look at him today with his big boy haircut (thanks Brandy!) and his little super hero jammies as he concentrates so intently on building his train puzzle and I can't help but think where the time has gone.  He has become such a caring and considerate child.  He is so willing to make friends and loves playing with his sisters.  He loves to sing and dance.  He adores anything that resembles a truck and if it doesn't he will make it into one anyway.

He knows when I'm going to cry and asks to hug me before I drop the first tear.  He comforts his younger sister when she hurts herself.  He sings to himself when he likes what he's eating and thinks goldfish are there own food group.  He loves animals, especially dogs and he just about wets himself when we take him to the zoo.  He loves the water and will run around for hours if you take him to an open field.

Even though he is so distinctly himself, I see so much of who I am in him.  And I realize,  I like who am.  Some times you just need a little mirror to help you see the best of yourself.

Antenella

Things I Miss the Most

I was recently lucky enough to get on the phone with my sister and have some girl time.  She was telling me about her life and how she wanted to make a few changes to make it a little more freeing.  I in turn told her, like any good sister would, that she should sell all her stuff, break her lease, move to a Caribbean island and work as a bartender/stripper to make the bills.  Lord knows she'd be making more then she does.

She laughed, but when the laughter wasn't returned she asked: "You're kidding, right?"

totally...maybe...no.

Was I?  I wish I was.  Projecting, I think, is the word that best describes this extravagant suggestion to my established and well educated sister. That made me realize... I might be feeling a little overwhelmed as a stay-at-home-mom.  

Don't get me wrong.  I am so unbelievable grateful for the life that God has so graciously bestowed on me.  Seriously, I have everything I could have ever hoped or wished for!  So why this sudden outburst of insanity?

It isn't that I dislike my life now, it's just that as time passes I tend to romanticize the life that I lead before becoming a wife and mother.  Here is an un-exhausted list of the few things that I miss about being single.

1.  Sleeping by myself:  I don't necessarily mind sleeping with my husband.  Even with the fact that I have to sleep wearing earplugs just to make it to the REM level of my sleep pattern.  But I have a queen size bed and I can normal share this mattress with at least one and up to three other people.  It doesn't make for the most comfortable or restful nights of sleep.

2. Using the bathroom:  Never in a million years would I have thought that this of all things would make the list.  Seriously, how exciting can it be in there.  Well, apparently it's the most amazing place in my whole house because when ever I step foot into by 2x2 foot half-bath I'm joined my three other people.  Woah, mom's gotta poop! PARTY IN THE BATHROOM!! (cue club music)

3.  Going out:  And I'm not even talking about going out for fun.  I'm talking about running in to get toilette paper because that's the only thing I actually need.  To be able to jump out of my car with nothing but my clutch bag or more accurately my backpack and running inside for nothing more then milk, or eggs, or a Reeses peanut butter cup, 'cause I just really had a craving for one just now.

4.  Eating:  How blissful it was to be able to eat without having to cut up half of it into mushy remnants of what the meal was actually presented as just to have it struck off the fork as it gets close enough to my screaming child's mouth.  Or better yet, looking at the menu and choosing something that I actually wanted to eat and not something that could be easily eaten by someone else with tiny fingers and mouths.

5. Taking a shower:...   Hahahah!  What's that?!

I think it looks like this.

6. Permission to speak freely:  I swear.  A lot.  I'm not proud and it has been a constant struggle to clean up my act.  But now I wish I had spend more time saying what I please.  Now I spend a lot of time gagging myself with my own words.  Mostly because my oldest will most definitely repeat it at her preschool or even worse, in front of her father.

7.  Not having to ask permission:  If I wanted to go see a movie or get my hair done or get my nails done, I made that decision.  If I had the money, what the hell! I'd get it done.  Especially if it was a hard week.  Who needs to eat when my toes have a french manicure on them?  (Let's just say that it's a good thing that Groupon didn't exist when I was single.)

8.  Listening to my own music:  I don't normally get into anything to crazy but there is just something not right about listening to Flo Rider talking about blowing his whistle while my kids sing along in the back seat.  Oh God!  Please don't tell daddy.

exactly!

9. Visiting friends:  If I missed a friend of mine I used to just go see them.  If they lived out of state, i'd call in with some excuse of catching mono and take off for the week.  So what if my car could barely make it there, or that it was usually on my last dime.  When did you get to see your collage friend get crazy on a friday night?  ... I mean when you're not actually still in collage.

10.  Being alone:  I used to spend a lot of time alone.  I used to spend a lot of time in prayer or just listen to music or sleep.  And I know that I am romanticizing this one pretty hard core.  But some days I would really just like to listen to nothing but the sound of my own breathing.

There you have it!  An especially selfish list of things that I miss...

But as I glaze over this list I realize that there isn't anything I would replace.  If I had to sleep by myself again or go out or even eat by myself, it would be so lonely.  So empty.  What about all the laughter that permeates every aspect of this list that was never included until now?  Or the tiny kisses or tiny hugs?  Or those moments where I'm sitting on the couch and all my oldest wants to do is snuggle next to me and watch whatever I'm watching just because she wants to be close.

...

I take it back.  I don't miss any of those things.

Antenella

Tylenol... It's not just for headaches.

Lately, I've been allowing my precious baby angles to go downstairs and watch t.v when they wake up at the butt crack of dawn.  This works for two reasons.  One, it teaches them the importance of independence and working together without their mother constantly swooping in to save the day and two, I get to sleep in past 5:30am.

But don't worry.  Everything is totally safe.  I put out water in their sippy cups the night before as well as a cup of baby crack goldfish for each of them.  Everything is childproofed.  It is virtually impossible for anyone to get hurt or rushed to the hospital...

Unless, of course, you are determined to put your mother into an early grave.

So, one of these days that the kids actually went downstairs by themselves and seem to be entertaining each other in a save and harmless fashion, I decide to take a quick (jail) shower and get the littlest one ready for the day.  Since she's still in a crib she misses all the festivities downstairs.  I look at the clock and rush my youngest downstairs so I can start the same process on the other two children so we can get my oldest off to her preschool before their swim class starts.

I enter the living room and I notice a cap just lying on the floor. This is how in tuned your senses become when becoming a mother.  Not only did I notice this practically obscure object but it was in the mist of the aftermath that is my kids after not being supervised for 20 minutes.  The place was a wreck!
Alas, it was not just any cap. Oh no!  It was THE cap to a Tylenol bottle that I know I normally keep in my diaper bag under lock and key.  Since I tend to get a headache from time to time I keep a little stash of big people medicine in my bag.

Without much more observation I notice the empty bottle with a scattered 5 and a half Tylenol pills (yes, that is 5 and a half!) on the floor next to my son.  This can not be happening.  This kid can't get his animal crackers out of his spill proof cup without having a complete meltdown from frustration.  How the hell did he get into a childproofed tylenol bottle?

                

Frustrating as Hell!

So simple even a child could do it!

               
There must be a rational reason for the scene that is laid out before me.  So I ask my 20 month old.  "What did you do with this bottle?"  He points to his mouth and says "Yum!"
"Did you eat these?!"
"Uh, Huh!" with his most winning smile ever.

I panic.  Only a little at first.  I call poison control.
"How many did he ingest?" the responder asks
"I don't know, maybe 20?"
"Yeeaaaaaaahhhh, you're gonna have to take him to the hospital."
"Shit. Ok."

Hang up.  Get your shoes on, we're going to the hospital.
My daughter,  "I don't want to go to the hospital, I want to go swimming."
I lose it, for real this time.  I start sobbing.
"GETYOURSHOESON!"
"okay, okay."

I speed to the hospital, which is the longest 15 minutes I've ever had, in a sobbing wreck.  I call my husband who works an hour away.  I steal a parking spot all the way in the front from an old man that been waiting. (sorry)  And rush into ER.  The security guard tries to talk me down as I'm getting registered.

For the most part everyone seemed very calm and relaxed and not one doctor looking like Patrick Dempsey came running from the OR saying things like "Strip that kid down, stat!  He's going into surgery!!"  So all and all, I felt a little better just being at the hospital.  Normally, I would feel like no one really seems to care about their patients or take any of their concerns to heart.  Now I know its so they don't make an already hysterical mother go into cardiac arrest.  Then they'll have to deal with even more paper work.

No such luck.

Fortunately, we were the only ones there and they took us back immediately so I finally was able to breath without a paper bag.  My son on the other hand is having a grand ol' time.  Flirting with every nurse (male and female) that came within a 20 mile radius.

Cheese!  Having a Great time in the ER.
And why not?  They have cars!

So they get us all situated in the back and after everyone has me tell the same story a hundred times, I'm pretty good at it by the time the doctor comes in.

No worries, you just got to get him to drink 16oz of Charcoal, pump him full of IV fluids and monitor him for 4 hours.  Great.

There he is strapped to his IV monitor

 The Charcoal was "fun".  I had to force it on him 8ml at a time from a syringe.  Needless to say that by the time I was done it looked like I had adopted two black children.  (I'm their mom, I can say what I want!)  After whipping off my sons blackface (what?) we had to get an IV in him.  Ugh!  That was the hardest part and he just kept screaming because it wouldn't come off of his hand.  sigh, good times.

By the time we were done he had
charcoal on his back.  Really?

Anyway, three kids, a charcoal smoothie, an IV and four hours later, the blood test show that he probably didn't even smell the pills let alone eat them.  Thank You Sweet Baby Jesus!!

So the question really becomes... What is that charcoal going to look like on the way out?

Antenella

That One Person...

Do you have that one person in your life that no matter what the scenario, every time you see them you just end up wanting to sink into the floor with embarrassment?  I mean, no matter what!  Everyone can be happy and clean and looking spotless and then as soon as that person walks within a 50 mile radius of you everyone decides to poop, vomit or strip naked in a 0 to 60 drag-race fashion.

I had no problem getting my pre-baby body back.
Sorry, I have to be going little Atticus will be late
for his Piano lessons.

I don't know if you have this problem.  This might just be a me-and-my-luck kinda thing, but I happen to have that one person.   For you, it could be your mother-in-law, a nosey neighbor or a "perfect" mom in your mommy group that has time to not only be on pintrest but actually executes the chocolate Halloween "Boo's" cupcakes like she owns it.  (So annoying)

Really?  I mean, really?

For me, it is none of these things.  Oh no.  For me the humiliation is so much deeper.  For me, this person is my oldest daughters swim teacher.  I am sure you are thinking, swim teacher?  Really?  Why in the world would a college kid working at the YMCA make you want to sink into the floor with embarrassment.

I might not have mentioned how  friggin hot!  somewhat attractive that this young man happens to be.  And to add to my embarrassment, I can't hide from this guy.  I swear we are on the same workout schedule.  Or maybe it's because I never go home...  I seriously live at the YMCA.  (You can get yourself clean, you can have a good meal...)

And he is so nice.  Every time he sees me he makes a point of saying hello and asking how my oldest is doing.  Then he tells me how awesome she is.  (sigh)  So dreamy.  And normally, these interactions only happen with mild embarrassment.  Like, he chooses the moment I'm in my third set of ab crunches  to talk to me as I'm sweating and moaning in pain.  Good times. 

Hey girl, is your child drowning?
 I'll fix that.

But I recently had a moment that takes the cake to date.  (So it could get worse)  About a month ago, on Saturday, my hubby and I decided that our lovely kids were driving us up the wall so we decided to take them swimming at the pool at the gym.  No biggy.  How could there possibly be embarrassment in this scenario?  

So we pack up all the kids and take them to the pool.  No problems!  I mean, he doesn't even work there on Saturdays...

Except this Saturday.  Great.  Still, I'm confident.  There are a ton of kids there and I'm there with my school of children and hubby.  I wouldn't even run into him, forget having to talk to him and thus pursue an event that will only end in me wanting to drown myself.

So after we exchange awkward waves to each other from either end of the pool I plop myself down in the shallow end of the kiddie pool and spend the next 15 minutes watching my youngest like a hawk so she doesn't crawl face first into the deeper waters and drown herself.

Now, I'm thinking 20 minutes have gone by without any major event.  I think I will join my hubby and my oldest two sea creatures in the deeper water of the pool.  So I pick up my littlest monkey and make my way over to them.  But in order to get from where I was to where I want to go I have to swim by, you guessed it, the swim teacher.


Sure enough we start chit-chatting. (Why do I have to be so awesome that everyone wants to talk to me?  Hasn't he learned that this will only end in seething embarrassment for me!) Nothing epic, just a basic how's the weather kinda thing.  We'll about 30 seconds go by and this wonderful young man makes a point of telling me how beautiful my precious baby angel is.

"Why, thank you!"  I manage to get out just as my beauty decides to smile, laugh and vomit all at the same time.

...

Kill me.

So now I am apologizing profusely as I am trying to skim the surface of the pool with nothing but my hand and my boobs.  And this young man, he is so sweet.  He's telling me not to worry about it, and it wasn't that much, and it shouldn't be a problem and as I am trying to scrape together whatever dignity I have left a cute young blond lifeguard wades over to us.

She tells him in her not-so-quite voice "Some stupid kid must have thrown up in the pool because there are chunks everywhere!"  Swim teacher just looks at me... I assume.  I had my eyes closed.  I was actually praying that I could open them I would still be in the shallow end of the kiddie pool.  No such luck.

Sigh*  Enter "Pool Closed" sign.  Alright, kids!  Time to get out of the pool so mommy can go home and drown herself in Captain Morgan.

'nuff said.

Antenella

Playing Hookie

So we are only in the last week of September and I am already done doing this whole school-real-schedule-everyday thing.  No really.  My calendar is so full up that when I try to make a play date I have to change the date 3 times before my brain can come up with a two hour window in my overwhelming schedule.

Listen to this:
Monday: Speech, mommy-and-me class, therapy, Swim class
Tuesday: preschool, Sports camp
Wednesday: Speech, mommy-and-me class, kid class, dance class, swim class (i hate wednesdays)
Thursday: Preschool, swim
Friday: Drive mom up the wall because we are all so exhausted from the week.

And forget tying to fit in anything that looks remotely like it might have to do with me for a moment.  Forget that I still have trainings, and events to plan, and emails to send, and maybe a phone call every blue moon.  Or forbid, a mommy night out?!  Thats usually the first thing that gets cut from my schedule.

Me time?  What's that?

How many kids do I have?  And how old are they?  Yeah.  The oldest?  Not even 4!  So how the heck did I manage to get myself into this crazy schedule?  And the thing that really bugs me is the fact that I can't really cut anything out.  Well, I mean I can.  But the things I want to cut out, we really need.  Like Speech... and therapy.

Why is it that the real stuff is the most frustrating?  I don't know about you but I really hate getting up early.  I mean really.  (except, of course, if we are getting up really early so that we can get to Disney World at a decent hour, because everyone knows that the best time to do the kingdom is as early in the morning as possible and if you only have a weekend then you should be getting your drowsy childrens in the car no later then 5am... I wanna go to Disney World.  But I digress. )  And the worse thing about getting up early is that my kids hate it just as much as I do.  Except the boy.  He's up at 6 like clockwork everyday.

I could get up early for that!

But today we are playing hookie and it's a quarter to nine and my youngest is still sleeping.  Not to mention that the other two only got up 20 minutes ago!  Yeah, that never happens on a Saturday.  But I realized something as my alarm was going off at 6 (i.e. my son) and my daughter was still snoring away through the noise,  some times the best thing to do is to do nothing.

Don't do anything!  Just throw caution to the wind and relax!  Forget your schedule, forget the projects.  Just have a day to play hookie.  There is already so many responsibilities on your children these days that if we don't teach them to give themselves a break they won't and then they will turn into these stressed out-overworked-overachievers that have a meltdown every time they see a B on their report card...  I never understood those people.

Two B's?!  Death!

....

Ok! Fine!  In actuality, the reason we are staying home today is because if I had to get up early one more time just so I could spend the first 45 minutes of my day fighting with my kids to do everything from going to the bathroom to brushing their hair I would be very likely to have a nervous break down.

And that, I really don't have time for!

Antenella

Family of Five

I am lucky enough to have three adorable children!  Blessed, really, if we wanted to split hairs about it. One of the unfortunate side effects of having beautiful children is that everyone in a fifty mile radius wants to touch or talk to your child.  I'm sure all of you have this same problem since all your children are just as equally beautiful.

Most of the time the interaction is limited and mostly from a distance.  It usually goes something like this: "Aww, how adorable!" or maybe I'm lucky enough to even get a coy little wave from an elderly women.  For the most part the interactions are pretty tame.

Then you get the crazies that make it their job to touch your finally-well-after-having-three-weeks-of-a-snotty-nose child, on every area that isn't covered by clothes.  They want to touch their feet and their thighs and their hands.  I guess they didn't get the memo that kids put everything in their mouths.  Including their hands!

In reality, I don't mind.  I mean honestly, all I can think of when those little old ladies touch my kids hands in how they are probably going to die from some whooping cough that my precious baby angels are living as hosts for.

How cute!  Now you have dysentery! 

But what has been really interesting is how the interactions have changed since adding a third child.  Forget the fact that she looks nothing like my other children.  I've already talked about the fact that complete strangers say and ask me anything when it comes to adopting.  One of my favorites that I forgot to mention, Is when people tell me about how great it is that I wanted to adopt and that their friends-sisters-cousins-newphew twice removed adopted a baby and when that baby got older... he killed them in their sleep!

...

That's nice.  Some families get to look forward to their kids going to collage or getting married or landing that fulfilling job.  Not me!  The mother of an adopted child.  I get to look forward to waking from a restful sleep with a knife in my chest.  Oh, the rapture!  But I digress.

Getting back to the point at hand (which I'm not really sure I have) in which the comments of strangers have gone from enduring with a tinge of creepy to just down right rude.

It's not too many kids.  See, they all fit!  ok, nobody grow.

I have three kids.  Three kids is not really a lot of kids.  I see tons of families that have at least three kids.  In fact, I know a family that has five kids and they seem pretty normal.  So I don't know why people look at my three kids and say things like, and I quote:

"Wow, that's a lot of babies."
"Are those all yours?"
"Looks like you got stuck babysitting all the kids today."

or my personal favorite, coming from a little blue haired lady who you would just assume had 16 kids herself...

"So, you've closed up shop, right?"

To which I answered, "Oh, sure.  We've decided to outsource."

What?  I'm her mom.  I can say what I want!

She just kind of stood their glassy eyed for a minute.  I kinda hoped she was having a heart attack but alas, she recovered.

What the heck!  Who says that?  The other three I could kind of understand.  I mean, I kinda do look like a babysitter with my eclectic grouping of children.  But to ask me to close up shop?  This means that you know that all the children where mine and that I looked like I might have another at any moment.

One of these things is not like the other.

I'm sorry!  Is my joy for bringing children into the world effecting your ability to buy your preparation H?  I thought not.  You don't see me getting all upset about you still being alive and you saying things like:  "So, You're going to die soon, right?"

No, no of course I would never say that.  But people think it's totally ok to say things like that to me.  Three kids.  It's just three kids!  I'm not a glorified basketball team, I'm a family of five!  Five is very normal.  Average even.  Three is the new two kids with a white picket fence and a dog.

Although, I keep trying to convince my husband that a family of six is just crazy.

Antenella

Baby Mine

Since adopting my youngest child I have been asked every question under the sun.  Anything from is she adopted, (um... hello, she's black as night.  What do you think?) to how much she cost. (I got her for a really great deal at the used baby lot on Military and 10th ave.  A little wear and tear but over all, a great deal!)  Even though a lot of these questions can come across as prying or just down right rude, I love them!

I have absolutely no fear of any question anyone can throw at me.  Mostly because I love to talk and nothing is better then talking about how awesome or frustrating my kids are.  Also, it helps me realize how far we've come.

Being a women I like to think I'm pretty good at multi-tasking but because I spend so much time constantly doing things, I rarely get a chance to look at my progress.  Being asked all these questions over and over again gives me a certain type of benchmark of how far we have progressed.  Plus, I think when I talk.  I'm pretty sure I get more out of conversation with myself then with anyone else.

One of my favorite questions is: how can you love a child that isn't your own.  (Yes, people have asked me this)  This is an easy one for me but the answer makes other people a bit uncomfortable.  They can't tell if I'm joking or not.  I just tell them that it was never a question of if I would love them since I couldn't stand either one of my kids when they were born but I like them now!

I know that sounds really harsh and it's not entirely true but I really want to get across the importance or the unimportance of feeling an instant connection.  Since this question really only comes up if the person asking it is contemplating adoption.  I am a huge believer in adoption and I feel like my story is such a successful one that It would be selfish of me to not be completely open with all the in's and out's of bringing a new person into your home and calling it family.

I have come to realize that people who adopt, especially if it's there first, have a hard time understanding what to expect emotionally from bringing home a baby no matter the age.  Sometimes this isn't a problem at all and all the anticipation has been a better exercise in bonding then any pregnancy could ever do.  But I feel that most of the time parents can feel guilty because they don't have those warm fuzzy's as soon as they hold that baby in their arms.

I can tell you in full confidence that this has nothing to do with the child being adopted.  I have two biological children of my own and as much as I hoped and prayed and anticipated being their mother when they were born I realized, I didn't know anything about them!  In fact, my son was such a difficult baby that I just down right didn't like him sometimes.  But I loved him.

Why did I love him when all he did was scream for 9 months?  Because I chose to.  Because love isn't the warm gushy feeling, the butterflies, the heart-drop.  Love is a Choice.

Just like when you decided to love your spouse in sickness and in health. (What they should have asked is if you will love them if they don't ever do a load of laundry or when they sit in the middle of a destroyed playroom without picking up a thing.  But I digress.)  You make a choice.  Is it easy?  Hell, no!  But it's worth it.

So this in a nutshell has been my answer.  How do you know you will love a child that isn't yours.  Because I choose to.  Do I like her sometimes?  No.  Especially, when she wakes up at 3 in the morning screaming just long enough so she can wake up the other kids then falls out again.  But that doesn't make her any less my child.

So, yeah.  I can love a child that isn't my own.  But what I didn't expect was how much I would love her.  When I was asked recently about our adoption my answer kind of changed.  (This is what I mean about my conversation with complete strangers acting as a mapping of my parenting journey)  This women wanted to adopt since losing her own child and she just wasn't sure how it would be for her and her husband and without thinking this is what I said:

I always knew I could love a child that wasn't my own biologically but I never expected how much I feel she is my own.  I don't know why but I truly believe that she is my child.  For whatever reason God thought it would be best that she was born from another womb but there is no way that she is not my flesh and blood.  She was meant for us as if she was born from my own body.  I will never know or understand God's plan but I know that she is mine and was meant for my family.

Wow...  Did I just say that?  Is that true?

...

Yes.  Yes it is.

But how could it not be.  How do you feed and cloth a child, love on them, hold them when they cry, catch them when they fall, read to them, play dolls with them, wrestle with them, cuddle them when they're tired, teach them words like momma and dada, and then have them use them?  How could you not love a child?



Love is the act of it.  Love is a choice.  Is it easy? Hell, no!  But it's worth it.

Antenella

Toddler Physics

Ah, the joys of parenthood.  There is nothing more rewarding then to grow and nurture a child in this wonderful world that we live it.  The days are just packed with endless opportunity.  It is a beautiful thing to live life through the innocent eyes of your children.  You get to experience all the world has to offer without any of the frustration or bitterness that comes with age.  You get to live life free of fear and worry when you see it from their eyes.  The joy and adventure is palatable!

It is all so magical!  So why am I perpetually in a state of wanting to slit my wrists?!*  Maybe because to be a parent you are constantly surrounded by things that are made to irritate the crap out of you.  Everything from baby products to kids television.  With all of the modern conveniences we have managed to make our lives one big frustration.

So here is a list of things I just don't understand.  Why are these things even a frustration? Why do these things even happen? Why does the natural world of physics no longer apply when you have a toddler? I just don't understand...

Top five things that drive me crazy as a parent:

5.  Why is it that you spend 15 minutes trying to wrestle shoes onto your toddler, just so when you place them back on the floor their shoes just slip off?

4.  Why in the world do they make pacifiers out of the same stuff as bouncy balls?  Have you ever had to chase one down an aisle of target just to watch it lodge itself underneath one of the display cases?  You couldn't get it to do that if you tried.

With the power to disappear in a moments notice!

3.  Why in the world do my kids want to be around me when I'm trying to sleep when they have unless access to every toy under the sun and PBS is on tv... downstairs?  Seriously, how much fun is a sleeping bear anyway?

This is seriously what my playroom looks like.
Only not as neat.

2.  Why is it that at the end of the day your child has slept just as much as you, has eaten just as much as you, has had just as much activity as you, if not more and still seems to have endless energy?  Why does no on in my house need to sleep but me?

1.  Why is it that your house could be at a standstill.  No one needs anything, no one notices you, you are just doing your own thing.  The kids are watching tv or playing with blocks or coloring but as soon as you punch the numbers into your telephone all hell breaks loose? Its like they are dogs and they can hear the numbers being pushed.  Even if it's your cell phone... and it's on silent...

Or maybe it's as soon as the person on the other end picks up on their end.  Don't you love it when they pick up and the first thing out of their mouths isn't hello but "Woah! Is everything ok?"  
"Sure! Why? OhThat?  No, I'm just breeding pterodactyls." As I said before, raising children is a wondrous adventure filled with magic and uncertainty.  All the things in the modern world that used to make sense just doesn't anymore.  Because really, when you are asked a endless stream of questions you start to wonder why it is that we can't have ice cream for breakfast.

Antenella




*Not literally, everyone just calm down.  I am not actually thinking of off-ing myself.  It might be a little raw but I'm really just using it for comedic value.... yes, I understand my humor is a little disturbing.

Letters 2

Dear Crying Child of Mine:

I know we have gone over so many of the common concern of this world in a past letter but it has come to my attention that you might need a refresher.  I feel that by your continued show of anxiety through nothing but tears and volume you have forgotten the assurance you were once given not so long ago.

I understand that life can be very challenging with the basic needs of the body constantly needing attention but when, since you have been placed into my arms, have I ever let you go hungry?  What I mean to say is, have you ever gone more then a couple of hours without my offer of a snack or a sandwich or a cookie or some milk or some fruit or some crackers or crunchies or gummies or etcetera etcetera?

Since you may still be lacking in the concept of time department, let me assure you that it has never been so!  In fact, since you were placed in my arms it has been my ferociously constant driving force to assure you have enough food at all times.  I spend most every moment of the day preparing and assembling nourishment of every kind.

So please, if it would be at all possible, do you think that you could keep the screeching down to a low purr while we are in the grocery store?  Yes, the foods I am taking off of the shelves are for consumption.  No, it is not to be consumed in its entirely at the moment I place it into the cart.  Let me assure you that the motivation of the grocery store is not to tempt you with all the glorious foods that God has provided for us without the joy of tasting any of it.

It's just Captain Crunch.  Contain yourself.

On the contrary.  It is the very place we can accumulate such treasures!  So please, if you could for a moment, stop and give yourself a chance to appreciate the foods we have without needing to shove every piece of it down your throat.  I promise that your body will not only stay well fueled but will in fact thrive at the prospect of eating at the appropriate times.

So again, please stop the crying.  The majority of people get concerned when babies cry.  Especially when they are reaching with desperation for the box of cheerios placed behind them in the cart.  Plus, I'm tired of everyone within a 50 mile radius wondering why I don't just feed you.

On the another hand,  I do want to praise you in your wildly accepted concept of napping.  I am so proud of this daily decision to succumb to the overwhelming exhaustion that you feel at around 12:30 every day.  It takes a brave soul to allow ones self to seep into unconsciousness with nothing but me as your protector.  I have become overjoyed with the trust you have bestowed on me by allowing your tiny little eyelids to flutter shut and drift into the unknown.

So what, if I may ask, is the emotional trauma that you awaken to after every single nap for the past four months?  What, pray tell, is the nightmare that you find yourself being pulled back into when ever your consciousness surfaces?

Is it that for those brief moments you are asleep you are transported back to the mystical place that unicorns come from, where it rains chocolate milk from the sky and the floor is littered with every CARS character imaginable?  Or is it that while you dream you have visions of what your life should look like only to be woken into the disappointment that you were born into? What ever the case my be, I promise you that it is not as terrible as it seems at first glance.

Oh my! Those are all CARS?... Mind=blown

Sure, the shock of being woken in to this desolate place we call home that has nothing but endless  attention and toys for your every whim and amusement can cause a bit of stress but I promise you that if you just give yourself a moment to adjust you will remember all the wonderful things about being here on this planet we call earth.

Lastly, I want to bring you into the circle of trust and give you a tip of survival on this backward household we call home.  This is a piece of advice that could change your life.  It is so simple its almost comical!  In all honestly, if you can grasp this one piece of advice the world as you know it will be a happier, lovelier and safer place to live in!

...When I tell you not to do something, don't do it.

It is so elementary you may think it is a joke.  In fact, I am under the impression that you do think it is a joke since you blatantly ignore my warnings at every opportunity. Alas, I kid you not.  This is a true statement and it will serve you well as you learn, love and grow on this glorious planet.

And it's not just the "don't hit your sister" kind of thing that it applies to.  Oh no.  It is every thing.  Let me give you a few examples so you can get a better understanding of the importance of learning this lesson sooner then later.

"Don't jump on the couch, you'll hurt yourself"  What happened when you didn't do what I asked?  You hurt yourself.

"Don't stand up on the chair, you'll fall off and hurt yourself." What happened when you stood on the chair?  You fell off and hurt yourself.

"Don't jump on the stairs, you'll fall and hurt yourself."  What happened when you jumped on the stairs?  You fell and hurt yourself.

"Don't stick your fingers in your sisters mouth, she'll bite you and it will hurt." What happened?  Are you starting to get the picture here?

Seriously, My son would so do this.
No really, I don't think I should let him see this picture.

I know that this new world that you live in seems to have nothing but an endless list of rules with nothing but an "I told you so" to soften the blow of many a hurt but I assure you that if you can just make a few changes at a time it will get easier by the second.

I'm sure that you have a lot to think about with all the added revelations to ponder during your sleeping strikes at 3 in the morning so I will leave you with this... It gets better.

...unless your waiting for unicorns.
Then it will just be more disappointment.

Not going to lie.  I'm kinda disappointed
after seeing this pic.

With all my love and exhaustion,
Your loving and overwhelmed parent,

Antenella

Making a Dent

I learned something new today.  Well, it wasn't that I exactly learned it per say or that it was even new but I became aware of something already in existence.  As much as the little buggers try to pretend or explain away that I, as their parent is making any sense in their already "I-have-it-all-together-so-leave-it-alone-mom"attitudes, I'm making a dent.

Oh yes!  The repetitive list of the "do's" and "don't's" in my house that makes the never ending song look like a haiku is finally starting to take affect.  How, might you ask have I come to this conclusion?  By what display of affection or even, dare I say it, self-correction has occurred in you peripheral view whilst parenting?

None.  Of course, it wasn't displayed in a form of "I should probably listen to my mother and not teeter on the back of the couch as if I am an olympian on the balance beam about to clench the gold medal for the USA" because I will probably land myself in the ER. (Damn the olympics)  Oh no!  It was not something they did...

kinda like this... but on my furniture.

It was something I did...  typical.

So my hubby comes home from a long day at work and we make small talk while the sirens from the Odyssey let loose in my kitchen.  Needless to say it was futile for any form of communication.  So while my hubby takes the male into the playroom to dampen the sound of screaming I make a move to check Facebook on my computer.  Apparently, this was of distaste to my husband because when I asked him why he doesn't ever wanna hang out with me, in jest might I add, he states and I quote:

Ugh!  More men coming to goggle at us.
Can't a girl sunbath naked in peace?
Make their boat crash.  That'll teach them!

"oh, now you want me to hang out with you?  What happened?  Did you finally look up from your Facebook and notice I was gone?"

Ew.

Well, I decide that this is considered disrespecting mommy and in playful banter I race over to his side and lift his leg to "spank his bum" as we both dissolve into fits of giggles.  I head back to the kitchen to make sure my mac&cheese isn't boiling over and before I know it my 20 month old (the boy) comes running into the kitchen.

"No mommy, no hitting.  Gentle.  Gentle."  as he mimics petting the air softly.

So cute!  But he wasn't done.  Oh no.  What happens when we hit?  We have to go say we're sorry.  So he took me by the hand and leaded me back to the playroom where daddy was and he says again.  "No mommy, no hitting!"

So I had to apologize for my actions and then give daddy a hug to make sure he wasn't hurt.  I don't know about him but my pride was feeling it a little bit there.

Really?  From this kid?  He makes it his job to
discover new ways of making toys into weapons.

Alas, I managed to take away from this whole experience that I am making a dent in their seemingly relentless attempt to send me to the looney bin.  That one day they won't need me there to correct them and that maybe just maybe they understand the importance of sticking together and treating each other with kindness and respect.  To fight hate with love.  And to always be willing to say I'm sorry.


Or they just like to be the dictator once in a while.

Antenella  

Growing up

Today marks a very big day for me.  Today is the first day that my princess is going to camp!  And not just for an hour or even two or three but all day!  9am-3pm!  That is by far the longest she has ever been away from me that didn't involve me leaving her with her nana to escaping with my husband on a date night.

I discovered something today.  As I was packing her little lunch box in her way-too-big-for-her backpack I started to get very sad.  I might have even shed a tear or two.  As much as I complain about how overwhelmed I am or how exhausting it is to have three kids under 4 or how nice it will be when they start school, I discovered that I am full of crap!

Pay no attention to the man
behind the curtain

Sure I get exhausted or overwhelmed, especially on the days where it's been weeks in a row of sleepless nights or the days were everyone is sick at once; but l wouldn't change anything for the world.  I feel so blessed to be given such an amazing task of raising my kids and trying to do right by them by teaching them right from wrong.  (Even if there is no vacation or bathroom breaks and the money sucks.)

I just feel like everything is happening too fast!  When did my baby grow up?  When did I start feeling confident that she would do great without me?  This is what we're trying to accomplish right?  The whole point is to get them to where they can become responsible and independent young adults?  Then why do I feel so sad?  Maybe because she's only 3 1/2? (what am I going to do when she goes to kindergarden or gasp* college? Sob*)

I feel like I've been going through the rest of the day in a blur.  I haven't really done anything different then when she is home but for some reason I feel so out of sorts.  Like something is missing.  Maybe it's because I actually got to eat lunch while sitting down or maybe it was the fact that I could write this post with out having to get up 15 times to get miscellaneous objects that she needed to fulfill her every whim but whatever it is, it's quiet.

One of the twins is napping so it's just me and the boy and I tell you that monster of a demon is a sweet baby angle when he's the only one around.  He is so grown up, he's so helpful, he listens, he doesn't whine or cry...

Hmmm...

Maybe there is something to this kids growing up and getting involved in there own activities.  It helps the next in line grow up.  He gets more attention, he gets to make his own decisions and the expectation of him contributing to the household is more eminent.  It is now time for him to be the big brother!

I just hope that I can manage watching Thomas the train engine for hours on end.

Antenella

Girl Power!

Oh Yeah!  This is happening!

It has come to my attention that I use this platform to complain on occasion about my life and my kids.  Ok, maybe occasionally is an understatement... OK!  Fine!  All I do is complain!  But really, does anyone want to hear about how my two older kids entertained themselves downstairs watching PBS while I and my youngest daughter slept until 10am today?  Uh, no.

That would be a big NO.  In fact, I'm sure some of you actually like me a little less and hate me a little more to hear that this actually happened and wasn't some sleep induced hallucination.  Anyway, this actually isn't about my kids.  Nope.  Today, I'm going to talk about me.  And yes, it's going to be positive.

I have recently celebrated a milestone birthday, if you will, and that gave me a bit of perspective on my birthday this year.  Even though I spend most of my time complaining about not sleeping, or my kids throwing up on me, or how hard it is to juggle being a mom and a person at the same time; I have come to the conclusion that I have a pretty charmed life.

I have three beautiful kids, an amazing husband that does nothing but support me, a family that is always there for me and a group of friends that I would not be able to do life without.  I am a truly blessed person.

I came to this conclusion in the back of a limo with more then a few drinks in my belly while some pretty non-kid friendly music played over the speakers.  Sure, I was a little influenced by the copious amounts of alcohol that was placed into my hands for the mere reason that it was my birthday.   Regardless, I looked around at the wonderful group of women I have accumulated over the years and I couldn't have been happier!

When I was first married I remember listening to a relative of mine talk about their latest "girls night out" or even a "girls weekend away" and I thought, "why would I want to take a vacation without my husband?  I mean, he's pretty awesome and totally my best friend."  And although he is still those things I am finally in a point in my life where I realize how important it is to be surrounded by like minded women that build you up and support you.

There are just some things your husband will not understand and it's not up to him to understand them.  Like what it feels like to have a clogged milk duct and know that you're going to have to feed your newborn baby anyway... despite the pain... every 45 minutes.  Yeah, he may sympathies but he'll never really get it.  That's why I need some really awesome, open and positive females in my life and by George, I think I've got it!

The friendships that I have built since having my children are based on things stronger then any other friendship I have built before.  We have been there for each other!  Whether it's to talk someone down from a ledge when night time nursing became overly daunting or spending hours out on the training field knitting a bond that can only be made through hours of sweat and pain.  Either way these ladies have been there!

These ladies have seen me at my worst.  They have been their when I have cried, when I have lost my mind, when I've been so tired I didn't make sense.  They have listening to my complaining and laughed at my jokes.  They have picked me up when I have fallen or carried me when I couldn't take another step. They have celebrated my achievement and gathered in my sorrow without jealousy or judgement.

I have been surround by a group of women that I truly feel I would be lost without and my only regret is that they will never know how much they have given me, how much they have done for me or how much they mean to me.  I love every single one of them!  I don't know if you have some one in your life that just the very thought of them makes you smile but I have a lot of them.  And I am forever grateful.

They are the reason that I write, that I run, that I continue to watch terrible children's movies back to back to back.  Because just when I think I can't take it anymore, I think of these remarkable women.  And I know that they are counting on me, supporting me and cheering me on with their smiles, their tears and their listening ears.

Plus, I know more then one or two of them will be waiting for me with a martini in hand.

Antenella

Dump the Checklist

Being a mom and a Christian is hard.  I didn't expect that.  Sure, I swear like a drunken sailor and I lose my cool more often then I would like so it's safe to say I need Jesus everyday.  Out of everything I envisioned with parenting I never once thought that my relationship with God would become so... well, stagnate!  Since becoming a mom I have had the most amazing and humbling experiences to date.  I have had such proud moments as well as moments of embarrassment that rival any awkward middle schooling episode.

But the one thing I thought would never change is my relationship with God.  I mean, it hasn't really.  I guess our roles have just changes... a lot.  When I was first saved it was easy to think of God as a loving father and as I moved to the young adult years God took on the role of "the lover".  But as a parent it's completely different.  He has become a confident, a keeper of secrets, a cool headed friend that has seen it all. Never an equal but more of a partner.

For the first time in my Christian life I have an inkling of the love that God has for me.  The all consuming fear, love, and admiration that every parent has for their child, only a million times greater.  And that's just for me!  Don't even get me started about how he adores you.  So why am I having such a hard time fellowshipping with Him?  That's just a christian way of saying, why the heck don't I read the word, or write notes, or pray or sing to Him anymore?

Truth.  No hard feelings.

Why do I feel so far away?  It's not that I don't want to talk to God.  He has seen the darkness of my heart and loves me anyway.  I know that there is nothing I could say or do that would make him stop loving me.  I know that he has the much needed answers to all my unsolvable problems and yet, I just don't love on Him the way I used to.  The way I did when I was 16.

At that time my biggest responsibility was showing up to school, work and rehearsal on time.  Nothing major.  I thought it was, at the time but it turns out life gets a lot harder then just trying to stay awake during history class.  I had all the time in the world to devote to my newest crush!  Jesus wasn't just a name in a book, he was my friend!  And not like an imaginary one, but one I could converse with.  One that was there for me always.  One that watched over me when I slept and bid me good morning when I woke.  He was my life!

I did all the things a new christian is supposed to do.  I spent hours reading the bible, I went to these really hippie worship session on the beach and all I did was pray.  For everything!  I was in constant communication with God.

And now...

I would just love to be able to talk to myself without being interrupted.  Sure, I pray but it usually sounds like this:  "Dear God, please help me get through the pediatricians office."/ "Dear God, please make my kids stop screaming."/ "Dear God, please let everyone sleep through the night."/ "Dear God, for the love of you, please don't let me actually kill anyone today. Thank you. Amen."  Not real deep prayer but definitely necessary.

But I went to church and honestly, all it did was make me feel guilty.  I was feeling overwhelmed, turn to Jesus.  I was feeling depressed, turn to Jesus.  I was feeling like a failure, turn to Jesus.  Yeah?  Well, what if one of the reasons I was feeling like a failure is because all I wanted to do was to turn to Jesus but all I got was another demanding child that needed attention that I didn't have the energy to provide?  I felt guilty.  Why couldn't I make the time to be with God?  Everyone else managed.  One of my girlfriend even told me that I was a matter of making him a priority and if that meant getting up at 4 in the morning to do it, so be it.  Really?  What if you've been up since 2am with a vomiting child and you finally get her to go to sleep by 4?  Do you stay awake?  Yeah, the answer is no.  Does that make me a bad christian too?

And then I realized something.  My "crisis prayers" that I said during the day where short, yes, but also often and heartfelt. The times that I sung worship in the car for the three minutes that didn't involve me explaining why we were stopped at a red light and not going, was... joyous.  The times that I managed to get on Facebook and read a scripture that someone posted was felt with the heart.

I realized something important.  Since having kids, my life has been turned upside down.  I don't do anything the same anymore.  So why should I be comparing my relationship with my God now, to the way I started the relationship with Him years ago?  We've changed.  Well, I mean, I've changed.  (He's never-changing and all.)  But our relationship has changed.  Just like my relationship with my parents has changed since having my own family, or my relationship with my husband has changed.

Can you imagine if you continued to relate to your spouse in the same way you related to them when you first got together?  How many pickup lines would you have to go through?  Not to mention trying to make sure that you always had your hair and makeup done.  We all know that now a days we're lucky if we can get a shower in.  But so what?  Our spouse loves us anyway.

They love us through all our emotion ups and downs, our nights of no sleep, our days of clamoring kids and they are just as human as we are.  Now think how much more our God will love us.  Will love me!  How much more understanding is He when I fall asleep mid night time prayer.  Or how much more sympathetic He is when I start to talk and I get interrupted by my life.


It used to be that when I wouldn't be able to make time for God I would envision a sad and lonely Jesus sulking away to wait in a corner till I had some time to devote to him.  Maybe with a little tear rolling down His cheek.  But now I realize, He's not waiting for His time, everything is His time!  He's right there in the thick of it with me.  He's there when I have to count to ten before losing my cool and He cheers with me when He watches my kids hit a milestone.  He is my partner.  My confident.  My friend.  And just like any real friend, He's not just waiting around for the phone to ring.  He's at my door asking me what he can do to help.

It won't be like this forever.  There will be a time when I will have those long moments of worship on the beach and quite time that lasts more then 30 seconds.  But that's not today and probably not tomorrow either.  So for right now, I'm not going to qualify my relationship with my God by the christian checklist that we all carry with us.  We are told that there is freedom in Christ and I don't know about you but am dying for a little freedom.


Antenella