A Fulfilled Life: A Moment of Thanksgiving

*Mayday!  Mayday!!  This is all about Jesus!!*  You know that's how I roll, so try not to get offended or discouraged when I talk about Him.  Just see it as the most recent revelation of my life.  I hope you can get something out of it:)

I was debating breaking my blogging fast with another installment of mommy fails but in light of Thanksgiving being tomorrow and the day that this blog will be posted I decided to take a more reflective route.  (You'll have to wait till next week for my failing as a parent.)

I have been spending a lot of time thinking.  I know, it's hard to believe.  Trust me, it was not on purpose.  But I came across a quote out of a book I was reading and it just got the wheels a turning.
"All is going well, very well, I couldn't ask for anything better-  So why do I hate my life?"

It's a little morbid yes, and is taken out of context but it so perfectly described my state of being that it has stuck with me and I haven't been able to shake it.  Sure, it's enough to say that this is probably not the response I should be having to my life.  Especially with Thanksgiving right around the corner and everyone and their mom posting everywhere all the things they are thankful for.

And I am thankful!  I have a beautiful home, I have a husband who loves me despite my obvious insanity, three beautiful children who are not only healthy in mind but in body as well.  What more could I ever have hoped for?  When I person thinks of what is meaningful in life they basically come up with a picture of me...

So why do I hate my life?

There are days and even weeks that go by where I feel like there is nothing about my life I like.  I am in constant battle mode from everything to getting my kids to eat to going to bed on time.  I spend my entire day fighting one battle or the other.  "Mommy she hit me!"  "Mommy she's looking at me!"  "Mommy, make her stop!"  and don't get me started on the "I wants"...  It's enough to make me sick.

But that's not why I hate my life.

I started to think back to the days that I was happiest.  What was it about those times that made me happy?  I remembered all the times in collage I was happy.  Care free with only a resemblance of responsibility to contend with.  I was happy then, even fulfilled.

So, I thought, that must be it!  It was because I have no semblance of living life for myself that I was so miserable.  Everything I do involves taking care of someone else.  Making sure that some one else's needs were met before mine.  So I started doing more things that involved "me" time.  Working out, getting my hair or nails done, sitting in the hot tub with a book.  I must be miserable because I wasn't living for me!

And I believed this lie...  For a long time.  I looked better but I wasn't any happier.

So again, I went back to my memories (Quite by accident) and I realized that all those wonderful times I had of being carefree and unencumbered were a facade.  It was the whimsical way we tend to look at our memories and think of only the wonderfulness that was our life and how much better it would be if we could just return to that.  It's a lie, seen through rose colored glasses, so it is beautiful.  But it is a lie.

I started to remember what it was really like during my "happiest of times".  I wasn't exactly "happy" then, either.  I was self conscious, judgmental, fragile, had no direction, believed no one would love me and was constantly overwhelmed with the feeling that I was waiting for my life to start.  I felt like everything I did was just a precursor to what God really had for me.

And that's when I realized it.  God.  When was the last time I talked to Him?  For that matter when was the last time I thought about Him?

He used to be my constant thought.  He used to be a best friend that shared everything from my meals to my bed.  He was a constant companion filling all the spaces that felt empty.  I remembered having all those feelings of inadequacy in collage but it didn't matter because I was a daughter of Christ.  A Queen in the kingdom of God and I was forever going into battle!  I was a solider, a person of strength that battled the enemy with Prayer and Praise.

And I was delighted.

Everyday was exciting because everyday I asked Jesus what the plan was and he just said "follow me" and I did.  And I was fulfilled.  Not happy, not content, not accomplished, definitely not confident but joyous in knowing I was living for a bigger purpose.

I used to think that the cliche of "Life without God is meaningless", was just that.  A cliche that alcoholics and recovering drug addicts would use to describe the incredible change that Christ made in their lives.  But I have come face to face with the crippling realization of the truth in this cliche.

Why do I hate my life?

Because that's all it is.  It's my life.  Sure, It's filled with the most amazing gifts I could ever ask for but what does it matter if I don't live for Christ?  What does it matter that I gain the whole world and know nothing of God.  What kind of riches can replace the excitement, the joy, the satisfaction this is a life lived to the fullest?  Creating, loving, caring with a love that is heaven bound.  To know that all of your wiped noses and kissed knees are not just to build up a healthy, confident child into an adult but to build a legacy of delight, fulfillment and acceptance that could only be found in Christ.

I know it sounds preachy or maybe it sounds to simple.  That happiness can be found in the darkest, obscure and desolate of places, the heart of a stay at home mom.  Where in all the tiniest of places is  fraught with nothing but guilt and doubt.  How else can we be saved if not by the love of a God who is constantly surrounded by whiney toddlers.  (Lets be honest, that's probably what we sound like.)  Who would understand us best?

And that was it.  I don't hate my life.   There is excitement in a life lived for a gracious God that would think me important enough to reach into the obscurity of my life and pull me out from the depression and set me on a rock allowing me to see the life I should be living.  It's exciting!

So I am Thankful, I am blessed and I am follower of Christ.

I just have to start letting Him lead.

Antenella

Ps: I may have a way that you could be involved with the excitement of living for someone other then yourself.  And it doesn't involve having my pastor go to your house and talk to you about Jesus for an hour.  (Unless, you want that)

Happy Halloween!

So today is Halloween!  Happy Halloween everyone!  You know what I hate about Halloween?  Nothing!!  I love the candy, the costumes, the spooky decorations.  I even like trick or treating with my kids.  It's going to be so magical!

Who am I kidding.

Lets start with reality:

One:
Everyone stayed up too late last night.  Oh, never-you-mind that everyone was in bed but nobody fell asleep until well after 10pm.  This alone equals catastrophe for the next day.

Two:
My son wakes up with a fever.  (Let the whining begin.)

Three:
No one has eaten real food since I bought Halloween Candy on Tuesday.

These are the kinda things that are already stacked up against me.  I will now predict the cluster that is going to be Halloween this year.

ooooOOOOOOOooooOOOOoooooooOOOOOoooooOOooo (That's my spooky ghostly noise.)

First:
My oldest will come home from school and immediately start asking me when she can start dressing up for Halloween causing a complete meltdown from the twins who will think that they are being left out.  Meanwhile, I will be trying to get everyone to take a nap, (see above) eat a decent meal, (see above again) and not destroy every Halloween decoration they touch.  Not to mention the homework that my VPK child has due tomorrow that I totally forgot to have done until about 6 am this morning.

Next:
My mother will come over to "help".  Let the havoc commence with full swing.  My beautiful angels turn into raging lunatics when my mother comes over.  I don't know why they think the rules don't apply when my mother is involved... Oh wait, yes I do.  It's because my mother lets them do what ever they want.
You want candy at 3pm?  Sure!  You wanna put your costume on before you eat dinner? Sure!  You wanna watch tv and not do your homework?  Sure!  It's Halloween!

Oh yes, mother.  I'm calling you out!!!

Lastly:
My husband will get home much later then the appointed time we are anticipating and by the time he will come through the door he will have three stir-crazy, anticipation and sugar filled ankle-bitters in costume all clamoring for his attention and demanding to get out the door as soon as possible, and any delay will in fact ensue a complete and utter meltdown that will make Pompeii look like a hiccup.

Not to mention that I'll be ready to pull my own
hair out, close to tears and moments away from running away myself.

Welcome home, Honey!

There you have it!  A prophecy if you will.  I feel like it is eerily accurate already.  The best part is that Halloween is just the start of a whole season of celebrations that will go exactly like this.  Only instead of costumes replace it with Turkey or presents.

It's the most wonderful time of the year!!  How long till Saint Patricks day?  Now there is a respectable holiday.

I'm supposed to be Ursula.  Not just a random
Drag Queen

Antenella

Mommy fail 2

As I mentioned last week, my husband had taken a father/son trip to Mexico with our middle child.  Other then the constant panic attacks, it was actually a really great break from the boys.  My daughters and I had a lot of girl time that involved doing things like going out for dinner instead of cooking.  It was awesome!

(side note:  Girls are way easier then boys.  I didn't realize how much easier life is when it's just the girls.  Boys are just a different animal all together, and I use the term "animal" pretty accurately.)

My oldest and I got to do a lot of bonding time in during the evenings.   After the baby went to bed,  my oldest and I would cuddle up on the couch with a blanket and snacks and watch t.v way past our bed times.  I figured this wasn't too much of a problem, staying up late.  How bad can it be?  Besides, how would my husband find out?

Fast-forward to a week later.  The boys are back and happy and everyone is starting to fall into their old routines including their bedtime routines.  Fortunately, for me, my husband puts the older kids to sleep while I work on our youngest.  I'm usually the first one downstairs while he tucks everyone else into bed.

This was just such a night and I was downstairs watching "How I met you mother," and my husband comes down and tells me this story:

Husband: So I'm tucking Scarlett into bed and she asks me where she can find a husband.

Me: Aww, where did that come from?

Husband: I don't know.  But I tell her that when she is older and she wants to find a husband she can usually meet people at her school or maybe at work.

(Picture him having the rest of the conversation in the bed pink flowery bedroom that is my daughters, complete with little girl shoes and Disney princesses everywhere.)

Scarlett: At school?  No, daddy.  I can't marry a boy from school.

Husband: Why not?

Scarlett: Because those boys are my friends

Husband: Well, it's okay to marry one of your friends.

Scarlett: No daddy, that would be weird.

Husband: Okay, then where do you think you should meet your husband.

Scarlett: In a bar.

Husband: silent shock

Scarlett:  Just like.... 

(wait for it....)

Scarlett: Barney.

Seriously my face when he told me

True story.

Needless to say.  I'm not allowed to watch HIMYM with the kids anymore.

Antenella

Father/Son Trip

My husband has been out of town for the past three days.  This would be a perfect opportunity for a week of mommies gone wild, complete with wild parties, endless spending and copious amounts of alcohol with my mommy friends.  Except, that I still have the kids with me.

Actually, I only have the girls.  My husband took off with my son (my favorite, don't tell the others*) to spend some father-son time together.  They are having a blast, by the way!  I, on the other hand, have been having a mini panic attack every 30 minutes since they've been gone.

It's not that I don't trust my husband.  After all, this is some well deserved father/son bonding time that they really haven't had a chance to have, since I've always been there.  And mom kinda trumps everything for my son.  (See how he's my favorite?)  To use my husbands words exactly, "What's there to worry about?  He'll be with this father."

Yeah, that's the part that worries me.  Again, it's not that my husband isn't brilliant.  In fact, he is like over the top smart that brings a whole new level of number nerd I never thought possible. Not to mention how caring and considerate he is and how much he loves his kids, blah, blah, blah.  It's more like he just doesn't think to do certain things pertaining to the children.

Here are some examples that sent me into an hysteria large enough that no amount of labor breathing was going to bring me down.

EX. 1:
Him:  I'm not going to bring his toothbrush.
Me: Why not?
Him:  Because I don't think he should brush his teeth with the water there in case he gets sick.
Me: Oh kaaay.  What are you going to brush your teeth with?
silence
Me: You are planning on brushing your teeth, right?
Him: uuuuuuhhhh


EX: 2:
Him:  So we're probably gonna rent a car when we get there.
Me:  Great, so you're gonna bring the carseat?
Him: Nah...


EX. 3:
Him: I don't think I'm gonna get him anything for his ears on the plane.  I'm sure he'll be fine.

Let's just say that there are some things a father (or the working parent) just doesn't think of when traveling with a small child, out of the country.


freakingoutfreakingoutfreakingoutfreakingoutfreakingoutreakingoutfreakingoutfre

It's not his fault!  It's not because he's a bad dad or inattentive, it's because he has never had the experience before.  He's never had to think of these things.  These things have alway just been thought for him.  Anytime we've gone anywhere especially since the babies were born my husband hasn't had to even pack the diaper bag, let alone a suitcase for a 5 day trip.

He's never had to think about what happens if your stuck in traffic longer then you expected, or what happens if you half way through shopping and someone has to go to the bathroom, right.  Now!  He never has to think about the logistics of errand running with an extra human being that makes it their job to touch everything and gets board in a fraction of a nano second.

He's never had to learn the tricks of getting your child to be quite long enough to sit in the pediatricians office during a well check up (because there is a difference between a well and a sick visit)  or be quite enough for an adult doctors office complete with judgmental old people who hate children.

He's never had to juggle talking to an adult while trying to hold the hand of a squirming child and trying to pay enough attention to both the conversation and not losing your hyper active child in the department store.  Hell, he's never even had to to go to a department store with the kids.  (Lucky...)

It's not that I don't trust my husband.

It's more like what I would imagine a parent would feel when their kid starts driving.  They know their kid is smart, dependable and a good decision maker.  They know that their kid has passed drivers ed and the state driving test.  They know that their kid is going to try their darndest to be the best driver there is.  But there are just some things that can't be taught without experience, and until they spent a couple of years doing it without a problem you will forever be on pins and needles until they get home.

As for never having to really learn any of this stuff up until now...
you're welcome.

Antenella

*Re-laaaax!  I tell all the kids that!  I don't actually play favorites.  That would mean that I actually like one of them.  OMG!! I'm kidding.  I love my kids... all of them! ...unless they pee on the floor...

We are Ruining Lives (Archive)

From the ARCHIVE:

This post has been on my mind all week!  I feel like I've had to explain this story at least 50 times in the past few days so I thought it would be nice to get a reminder of how my family and I are single handedly making people questions their morality.  We are like the real life "What would you do?"  Only, once we leave there is no one there to tell you that everything is okay and that the crazy white lady storming out with a black baby is actually the child's mother.

I think we should get a kick back from the therapists in the area for all the cliental we will be sending them.

Enjoy!

Having an adopted child tends to be challenging at best.  Then, have an adopted child that stands out like a sore thumb.  It tends to be well…confusing.  But I didn't realize how difficult it could be until recently.  My youngest and adopted child has been the sweetest most beautiful baby angel there ever was!  I'm so blessed to have her.  All she ever wants is to be snuggled and to play with her siblings.  Best Child EVER!  

Then she turned two.

My angel is now... a MONSTER!!  That might be a little harsh.  But really, she's out of control!  She throws fits in public, She refuses to follow me and the kids when walking through any store, she goes so far as to yell 'No!' then runs in the opposite direction.  This is a challenge for any regular mother and any average child.  In fact, I would say that this behavior is textbook for the terrible two.  The constant bipolar temperament makes me think this is nothing more then the "testing" time that every healthy and normal child must go through in order to be a well adjusted adult.  Unfortunatly for me, this comes with a whole ball of wax that most mom's never have to go through.  

For one, I look like this:

this is a super great picture, btw

 And my daughter, my precious baby angel turns psychotic maniac, looks like this:

my doll face

See how this might be a problem if say, you are trying to get out of target on a busy Saturday shopping spree and your precious angel/maniac decides to not listen to you?  Let me set the stage for those of you that aren't picking up what I'm laying down.

Int. Target:

It is the hustle and bustle of back to school shopping.  Enter a white mother with black child.  The pair do their shopping in considerable peace getting just a few things.  Black child sees a toy and decides that she will not leave without it.

Mother: Okay, that's enough playing honey.  It's time to go.

child: NO!

Mother: What did you say?

Child: NO!

Mother: It is time to go.  Don't make me tell you again.

Child starts crying.

Mother: One… Two…

Child: No smack!  

Mother: If you don't listen you get a spanking.

Child: No!! 

Mother is flabbergasted as the child takes off like a bat out of hell down the aisle in target, away from the people who already saw the exchange (of course) and runs up to the nearest stranger asking desperately to be picked up.  

Stranger unsure what to do sees an angry white women approach her and instinctually picks up the child.

Stranger: Is she yours?

Mother: Oh, yeah.  she's mine.

Stranger reluctantly passes the child over to the mother.  Mother takes the kids and starts berating child in a hushed voice.

Stranger now spends the rest of her life wondering if she did the right thing.  If the child was really sent with her mother or if that terrible white women was going to take that child and sell it on the black market.

End scene 

Fortunately, most of the time I have all three of the kids and I have less of a difficulty trying to get the kids out of the store. Mostly because my other kids are calling for their sister as much as I am.  So, I'm either really good at kidnapping because I teach the other kids I have stolen to call for each other, or I am really her mother.

Although, I will have to say, I am glad that people stop me and ask for clarification.  Because I would hate to think that any of my children are screaming bloody murder just to be kidnapped anyway because nobody wanted to cause waves for the kidnapper.  I am glad that people make a point of clarifying the otherwise terrible faith of my child.

But what am I supposed to do?  Pull out her birth certificate and adoption papers?  All those people who are trying to clear me as the child's mother basically just have to take my word for it.  But what if I was really stealing her?  If someone asked me if she was mine, of course, I would say yes.  

See how this can get really confusing.  So my child and I are ruining lives everyday causing insurmountable amounts of people to second guess themselves and to always ask if they did the right thing.

Don't even get me started if my husband tries to take her somewhere.  Ahh, the joys of a blended family!

Antenella 

What Do I Tell My Kid?

I remember when I used to be young and naive and judgmental.  It actually wasn't that long ago.  But as I get older and add more children, I have started to realize how ludicrous a lot of my thought processes were.  I've changed.  A lot.

I am embarrassed to admit that I used to agree with the right wing conservatives of the "sanctity of marriage" and how the "Gays" were destroying everything. Blah, blah, blah.  Besides, what was I supposed to tell my children?  As if it Wouldn't it be confusing enough to explain sexuality to my imaginary (at the time) 4 year old without having to explain girl-on-girl or guy-on-guy involvement as well?

Needless to say, I have changed.  I have learned the error of my ways.  But most importantly, I'm just tired.  They say to pick and chose your battles and with kids I realize that there are just too many battles to fight.

If my kid wants to love someone of the same sex I just don't have the conviction to fight that battle anymore.  If they love them and that person treats them with the same love and dignity that my husband treats me, that's all I can ask for in my children's spouse.

But this post isn't about gay rights or making my political statements about them, its about a conversation I had with my (no longer imaginary) 4 year old daughter.

I shall title it:
What do I tell my kid? : A simple look at the complexity of explaining the subtlety of homosexuality to your child.

Princess: Mommy, that girl in my class says she has a girlfriend.
I glance over in the direction she is pointing and find a bouncy blond little girl about my daughters age.
Me:  That's good.
Princess:  But she said she has a girlfriend!
Me: You mean she has a friend who is a girl?
Princess:  I don't know, she said girlfriend.
She makes a point of holding out the "url" sound in a sing song voice.
Me: Yes, you said that.  What do you think she means when she said she has a girlfriend?
My oldest looks down looking a little embarrassed
Me: Do you think of your aunty Chiara and her girlfriend?
(Yes, my sister is a lesbian!  Yay!  I am officially the united nations.)
My oldest nods.
Me: Some times we call our friends girlfriend or boyfriends depending on if they are a girl or a boy.  Mrs. Brandy is my girlfriend because she is a girl, and Mr. Rory is my boyfriend because he's a boy.
Princess: Your boyfriend?!  What about daddy?
Me: He's my husband.  Some times when people say girlfriend or boyfriend they are also mean that this person is special to them like a husband or a wife would be, like your aunty Chiara.  But normally, if it's a girl in your class she's probably talking about her friend who happens to be a girl.
Princess: Oh.  Can I get a milkshake from McDonalds?

End Scene

Two things:
1.  I never thought I was going to have to explain homosexuality in reverse.  Where my child already knows about homosexuality and is confused by the reference of girlfriends as it's intended purpose.
And 2.  That wasn't so hard after all.

Here's to my sister for making things easier
instead of harder, then I thought
it would be.

Antenella

Beauty Beyond the Noise

The circus is coming to town!!

So the other day some beautiful and graceful human being came up to me and told me that my kids were whiners.  Like point blank!

Me: Actually, for their age they're not really...
Him:  No, I'm not trying to be an ass or anything.  I'm just telling you the truth.  They are whiners.  You better nip that in the bud.

It's a good thing he wasn't trying to be an ass.  I feel much better now.  As much as I'd like to verbal bash this guy and write what I should have said to him and blast him all over the internet for it, I realize:

This isn't about him.

News flash!  My kids are whinny!  I know my kids whine.  There's three of them.  All under the age of four.  With that being said I would love to tell you that I mentally called this gentleman ever name under the sun and then promptly forgot about it.

But I didn't.

It kept gnawing at me.  Most of the afternoon until finally I just broke down into tears.  When I did finally have the tears flowing like a faucet I couldn't even understand what I was so upset about.  Lets face it.  This wasn't the first time I was told my kids whine, or that they are too loud, or that they are just too much in general.  I get that.

Not everyone can handle three kids and not just three kids, (because three isn't really a lot) It's three toddlers.  I don't expect everyone to be happy when they see me and my circus come through the doors. In fact I almost always expect to be treated like gypsies just because of my traveling circus.  But I digress.

After thinking about it for a long time and having a real heart to heart with another mommy of three, I started to realize why exactly I was so upset.

This isn't about him.

Or anyone that thinks like him.  It's the fact that people don't see the beauty of my kids beyond the noise.  Nobody likes the masses.  That's why we have the term 'mob mentality'.  Its loud, its erratic, it's ignorant.  But people, individual people are beautiful, and talented and vibrant!

Just like my kids, but no one can see them over the noise.  And what really made me cry, what really make me so upset was the fact that no one sees the beauty of my kids because they are always under the guise of a group.  They are never individuals.  They are just noise.  And that makes my heart break.

This isn't about him.

No one sees how attentive my oldest is to her younger siblings.  How she always has one eye open to make sure of their whereabouts.  Or how she loves to sing and is good at it.  How she gets shy when our neighbors son comes over and talks to her.  They don't see how insanely good she is at swimming and how she can hold her breath longer then most adults.

No one sees how creative my son is.  How he can tell a story from beginning to end with plot twist and cliff hangers.  How he feels a sense of loss if he doesn't give you a proper goodbye or a 'squishy' hug.  They don't see the way he wraps his arms around your neck and tells you how much he loves you, just because, or how every time I make his favorite food he thanks me with a happy mouth full of pasta.

No one sees how my youngest loves her baby dolls.  How she holds them and kisses them and wraps them in blankets, treating them with a tenderness that isn't seen in any other realm of her existence.  They don't see how she adores her older brother and wants to be just like him, following his every lead and mimicking every sound.

No one sees the generosity, the willingness to work together, the love they have for each other, the compassion they have for others.  The fact that my son can't help but be attentive to another child that is crying.  Or that my oldest wants nothing more to be involved in the game and encourages other to do the same.  No one sees how my two oldest adore their little sister, and even though she looks nothing like them and had a different mother she is as good as blood in their eyes.

No one sees this... No one sees beyond the masses.  The fact that with three small kids you are guaranteed that at any moment someone will be unhappy and there is nothing I can do about that because I can't please everyone at all times.

Kinda like him, who can't see the beauty beyond the noise.

Antenella