Home is Where Your Story Begins

I have this sign, one that says "Home is Where Your Story Begins" hanging above my front door . . . it's been part of us for years because I truly believe what it's telling us.

Tonight, though, as I was outside, I was suddenly struck with the idea of trying to see our "home" from a stranger's view, and the sign popped into my head. What kind of story am I helping my children write? While I long for their story to be one of happiness and unconditional love, of fairness and equality, one that's built on a strong foundation with faith and courage and family and determination written on all of the pages, I know that's not the story I'm writing on more days than I would like to admit. Days where I'm tired or they are fighting, days that I lose my patience and they are demanding, days where I don't have enough of me to go around.

As I stood outside and imagined what story this home would tell, I vowed to be less tired, more patient, to find a way for there to always be enough of me . . .

so that their story can be a masterpiece.

The Journey of his Footsteps

Many of you know Preston is my wild child. In a mere 2 months, he will be 5 and my heart just can't hardly fathom that "my baby" is going to be 5. How can this be? As that day grows increasingly near, I find myself thinking about these days and wanting to freeze each moment, to make time stand still while I relish in what itsy, bitsy bit of "little guy" there is left. And so today, I think about the journey of his footsteps for one day, this ordinary day, so that I will remember all the moments, the little moments in his journey.

9:15 a.m.~Preston demands his cup of chocolate milk-eyes half-closed and barely awake.

9:35 a.m.~The tickle monster attacks as I carry him to the bathroom, strip him down, and physically have to pick him up and put him in the shower, all the while he's screaming bloody murder.

9:40 a.m.~I'm now having to physically pick up said child and remove him from the shower, while you guessed it, he's now screaming bloody murder because he has to get out.

10:06 a.m. ~Informs his Daddy he wants 3 "frambled" eggs for breakfast and a waffle. Daddy fixes the eggs and waffle.

10:20 a.m.~Eats the waffle but decides he would rather not eat the eggs, even if that means Daddy is never fixing him eggs again.

12:27j p.m.~On the way out from church, he does his Sunday ritual and gets gum from Byron. Pure joy is written on his face, especially since an extra piece came out of the pack so he now has two pieces of gum.

12:30ish p.m.~While we are walking to the car. Preston is crying and begging for me to stop in the parking lot and tie his shoe which isn't really even untied, it just has a long string. My repeated attempts to explain that it's too cold fall on deaf ears and he cries until we get to the car and I finally "tie" his shoes.

12:33 p.m.~We arrive home from church and I walk in without opening his car door. He runs in behind me, promptly announces he hates me because of the awful neglect I displayed by not opening his car door, and slams the door. To which he then finds himself in his bedroom in timeout.

A few hours of the afternoon go by rather peacefully. Lots of "I Love Yous " in an attempt to figure out where in the house I am because if you didn't know, there are monsters in our house that might get him if he can't see me at all times.

Somewhere in there he begs me not to go the grocery store so he doesn't have to go. I assure him we will send Daddy or Daddy can stay home with him. All is well in his world for a little while.

5:30 p.m.~He is acting silly, talking about his boy parts and I decide to repeat his antics to my friend. Apparently this was not a good idea. In his obvious disdain for my actions, he turns my computer off while I'm working on a jewelry order. Again, he finds himself in his room. This timeout results in crying, near puking, and getting his time doubled, tripled, and quadrupled.

5:52 p.m.~Preston is released from his most horrid punishment and promptly falls asleep on the couch.

7:30ish p.m.~"Nap" time is over.

Another two hours pass relatively quietly, but with lots of hugs and kisses and a snuggle in my lap while I try to convince him we shouldn't do or say ugly things just because we are mad.

9:30 p.m.~He starts spelling his name for Peyton with the letters on the fridge. He can't find an "o" so he substitutes a "q". Have I mentioned he takes after his Dad yet?

9:42 p.m.~While playing in the living room, he lets one rip which results in comical giggles. He then says , "Yuck, that stinks forever," followed by more giggles, and then a "That weally stinks forever".

9:58 p.m.~He's supposed to be laying down but comes to find me in the garage to tell me that he's not sleeping in Parker's bunk bed (that he's sleeping with me) because there are teeth under Parker's pillow and he is NOT sleeping where the tooth fairy comes.

10:1 p.m.~Considering he had a late "nap", I'm letting him chill on the couch with me while I have my final fb check of the day. He smells a pillow, says "yuck" and wants me to smell it. I said no and his reply "Well, it doesn't stink. It smells good." He's a fast thinker but later admits it didn't smell good AT ALL.

10:19 p.m.~Decides to show me that he's broken the heads off of my mother and child Willow Tree figure. After trying to explain how this happened, he's sent to the torture room where the teeth are waiting on their fairy. This puts him over the edge and he returns, begging not to have to go in there. The crying escalates to the point that Peyton gets out of bed and moves the teeth. A few mins later, Preston somehow is chillaxing on the couch again.

10:27 pm ~As proof of his boy part obsession, now after some careful examination, he asks, "Mom, how can pee come out a hole little like this?" I laugh which again is apparently the wrong response because I get a look that tells me all I need to know.

10:39 p.m.~After being told it was time to lay down 3 mins ago, he continues to whimper his fake little cry, taking a moment to do a double sniff and realize our dog is once again having gas issues, whimpers, looks at the ceiling fan, realizes I'm watching him, and on perfect cue whimpers again. Repeated by some booty shaking as he whisperers a song to himself.

10:45 p.m.~Still some intermittent booty shaking and whimpering. Remind me to not let "nap" time happen under any circumstance again.

10:52 p.m.~After nearly falling asleep on my lap, he tells me all about how a stranger could have a hammer, break into a house, take a little kid while he's sleeping, and when it's morning, the kid would wake up in a different place. (My heavens where does he think of this stuff?)

10:55 p.m.~He's now obsessed with how my earrings go into my ear and can't believe it doesn't hurt.

10:56 p.m.~"Mom, I know how to spell comfy. A-E-R-O (as he reads the letters on my sweatshirt)." Obviously, we refer to sweatshirts and sweatpants as comfy clothes in our house.

10:58 p.m.~He has declared he will be staying up by himself while I take a shower and everyone else is in bed.

11:16 p.m.~He continues to lay on the couch and chatter about everything that pops into his head and also informs me "I'm petting his toe" as I rub the big toe that's propped up on my shoulder.

11:19 p.m.~ In a minute, his little feet will finally be pattering in to lay down with Daddy. But wherever he footsteps take him in a day, one thing's for certain, their first and last place will always be on my heart.

7 years . . .

July 30 . . . 7 years . . .

7 years it's been . . . yet I remember when getting through just one day seemed too hard

7 years of being a mom . . . yet not having one of my own

7 years of needing you . . . yet a host of angel friends to fill the void left behind

7 years since my babies had their "Gram" . . . yet still they "know" you

7 years since I've been wrapped in your hug . . . yet I feel your arms around me each time it rains

7 years since I've heard your voice . . . yet I hear it everyday echoing in the words I speak

7 years since you walked this earth . . . now you dance with angels

7 years without you . . . but a lifetime of love you left behind.

7 years you have called heaven home . . . but your love, your laughter, and your spirit live on forever.

Sweet Summertime!

Man, how sweet summer is! We have had a busy summer . . . well sort of. We've enjoyed lots of time at the waterpark or swimming with friends. Our big vacation this summer was to Orlando, where Peyton competed in AAU Gymnastics Age-Level Nationals and we went to the most magical place on earth (Disney).

Once again, my baby's hard work paid off as she won 1st All-Around, 1st on vault, 2nd on bars and floor, and 3rd on beam! I am so proud of how hard she works and the dedication she has for the sport that she loves!

Disney was great . . . if you ask Peyton and me. We loved it, Parker liked it, Preston tolerated it, and Jerry was done after the first day! Ha ha I was super impressed with my daredevil daughter who rode every ride! Aerosmith was a bit much for me (I spent half the ride with my eyes closed and even braved breaking the rules to reach over and "reassure" Peyt halfway through only to have her say "Mom, that was awesome. I want to do it again" as soon as the ride slowed down! Since when did she become so grown up and brave?

In the last two weeks, Peyton and Parker celebrated their birthdays! I can't believe my kiddos are 9 and 7 (and Preston is 4). It seems like yesterday that they toddled around and drank from sippy cups and had sweet little hands that reached for mine. Now they run through the house like bulls in a china shops, mix crazy soda concoctions at McDs, and although their hands still reach for mine, they aren't such little ones anymore.

This coming week, Peyton and I will be going to FlipFest gymnastics camp for a week while leaving the 3 "boys" to run the roost . . . this should be interesting! I'm so looking forward to a great time with my girl, but am a little worried about the fellas surviving without us! I'm sure there will be many stories to tell!

FlipFest will be the end of our summer fun as I'll have to start getting my classroom ready and our sweet summertime will start winding down . . . makes me so so sad to know my time with my kiddos everyday is coming to an end. Sweet, bittersweet, summertime it is!

Only a piece of the puzzle . . .

I found this online a year or two ago and have saved it to serve as a reminder to me that all events in our lives have a purpose . . . whether we understand their purpose at that time or not, they will in someway, change us or shape us as we continue our journey. I know this is long but I promise, it is SO worth your time to read it and think about your own puzzle. :)
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Only a piece of the puzzle…

Did you ever watch a child put a jigsaw puzzle together? What’s the first thing that they do after dumping the pieces from the box? Come on, you remember don’t you? They’ll look at the picture on the front of the box so they know what the finished product will look like, right?

We’ve all heard about the importance of focus and keeping our eye on the end goal in order to get there. But how many times do we focus on just the piece that we happened to pick up that day rather than focusing on the photo on the front of the box?

I believe that life is just like that jigsaw puzzle. There are a lot of pieces and sometimes we’re looking at just one piece and we think we know what the entire puzzle “should” look like. Or, we’re looking at a piece saying, “No, this isn’t my piece. This belongs in another box.” We pick up an orange piece and think to ourselves something like, “If this is a picture of the ocean, then how can there be an orange piece in this puzzle? The ocean is blue. This isn’t mine!”, when we know that it is. We focus on the orange piece and lose sight of the big picture, in this case, of a beautiful sea scape, ah… with a gorgeous sailboat with yes, you guessed it, a sail with an orange stripe. Why do we sometimes have to see the end before we have faith that the pieces will fit and actually belong in our puzzle?

It’s only when we can see the entire picture that we realize that all of the pieces are not only indeed ours, but all of the pieces play in important role in making the entire picture complete- and beautiful. It’s fairly useless to look at just one piece and try to predict what the entire picture will look like, but how many times do we do that with our lives?

We’ll look at one circumstance and very quickly lose sight of the big picture that we were creating, only to focus on that one tiny piece and question why it’s in our box in the first place!

I believe that as the pieces of our puzzle show up in our individual lives, it’s important to remind ourselves to look at the picture on the front of the box! Keep the big picture firmly in your mind and in your consciousness. See it. Dream it. Feel it. Be that picture! Don’t try to second-guess if the puzzle piece should or shouldn’t be in your life. Trust that it’s there for a reason even if you can’t see it in this moment. When the puzzle is complete, then and sometimes only then, are you able to look back at those individual pieces, especially the ones with the tricky edges and odd shapes that were so difficult to fit in, and know that they too were necessary to complete the entire beautiful picture.

That nasty divorce that allowed you to find the new relationship, getting fired from your job to make way for a better one, and perhaps even the car accident that created unwanted circumstances in your life where you can’t yet see the benefit- all are pieces of the puzzle. All have a place in the grand scheme of things, even if you can’t yet see how they fit.

So the next time you’re going through a challenging circumstance, or as I like to call it, a growth opportunity, ask yourself if you’re focusing on the individual puzzle piece or the beautiful picture on the front of the box. It’s only when the glory and the beauty of your finished picture is stronger than the drama of the individual puzzle pieces, that the pieces of your life will easily fall into place creating the wondrous picture you carry in your heart. I wish you a beautiful puzzle and fun putting it together. ☺

Heaven "Scent"

Just when I think I've made it through every milestone one can endure after losing a loved one, I'm unexpectantly sent another one . . . one my heart was so not prepared for. As the years have passed, it's been harder to remember the sound of my momma's voice . . . the feel of her arms as she would hug me . . . the sound of her voice . . . the way she smelled.

When I came home tonight, I knew my shirt would probably smell like smoke and need to go to the laundry . . . for some reason, I decided to smell it. And in that instant, before I even knew they had formed, the tears were running down my cheeks. In that instant, I could smell my sweet momma so clearly . . . as I held my shirt in my hands, it was like I was holding her, like she was right there with me. In nearly seven years, I have never experienced that. In that moment, my heart was so full . . . I felt sweet, sweet joy. For a split second, I felt whole again.

And as suddenly as it was there, it was gone again. But the tears still fall . . . my patched up heart needing to be mended again. Yet, I wouldn't trade that minute for anything . . . that minute given to me by God to feel my Momma with me. . . oh how bittersweet.

Thank you God for the smallest, simplest gifts that are heaven "scent".
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Edited to add: My apologies for yet another blog about my momma . . . this moment was one I don't want to ever forget and so I write . . . :)

A letter sent to heaven

Dear Mom,

Today is your 7th birthday in heaven. It's so hard to believe that I've lived nearly 7 years without you . . . without hearing your infamous "Good morning, Sunshine", without going to a yard sale with you, without eating your amazing pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving, without sharing so many stories about your grandbabies with you. There's so many things I wish you could be a part of, but even though I know you can't be here with us physically, the rain always comes and so I know you are never as far away as it feels.

Oh, how I wish you were here to see these grandbabies of yours. I'm pretty sure they would have you wrapped around their finger (you know like the time you drove circles in the parking lot with Peyton when she was a baby so she wouldn't cry -even though you never did that with any of your own 8 kiddos). I wish you could see Peyton doing her beloved gymnastics. She is so dedicated and so focused-I know you would be her #1 fan (next to her momma and daddy). Parker has grown into quite the little jokester who loves animals of any kind. He would certainly be your bird watching pal! And then there's Preston . . . sweet Preston who you never got to meet . . . he is my devil child whom I know would make you laugh so hard. You would never believe some of his antics, like just last week when he stacked a dining chair and two little kid chairs to make stair steps to reach the vitamins on top of the fridge.

Mostly, Mom, I just want you to know how blessed I feel to have had you as my momma. In the years since you went to heaven, I've realized just how different we were. Not every daughter has a mom she could count on to save her wedding cake from crashing before the reception ever started, nor a mom she could call at 4 in the morning because her firstborn is running a 103 fever. Not every daughter talks to her mom daily on the phone . . . oh how many times I picked up that phone to call you in the months after you died before I realized it wouldn't be your voice I heard on the other end of the line.

As I raise these kiddos of my own, I realize so much more then I ever knew about you. Thank you for loving me when at times I know I didn't deserve it. Thank you for always making me a priority. Thank you for running me everywhere and making sure I had everything I needed. Thank you for making and standing by those choices that I know I challenged (like the not getting to date until I was 16) because even then I didn't think so back then; Momma really does know best. Thank you for teaching me what it means to be a good person-to work hard, to think of others first, to never give up on what your heart wants. Everything I am today is because of what you taught me.

For what it's worth, I spent months blaming myself for not getting home soon enough to save you, to spend just one more minute here on this earth with you, to tell you just one more time how very much I love and adore you. I still have the cans of tomato soup you asked for that day . . . it made the move from the little house to the new one 5 years ago. I guess it serves as a reminder that although I failed to help you that day, I didn't totally fail as your daughter. I hope you felt my love as you made your way to Jesus' arms that day and that you continue to feel it everyday. Thank you for sending the rain as a constant reminder that you are here with me . . . I can never explain the peace that comes during those moments. I love you and miss you so so much, but know I will see your face and hear "Good Morning, Sunshine" as you wrap me in your loving arms again one day in heaven.

Forever your sunshine,
Kel

My Little Man

He's Daddy's Best Buddy . . .




but My Little Man.




My Little Man was started as a dream in my heart to have something in our lives to look forward to, something to celebrate after losing our moms a year apart. As much joy as Peyt and Park brought to me, I needed something "more" . . . my soul needed a tidbit more sunshine.

And so, my little man became more than a dream in my heart. As my tummy grew, the pieces of my broken heart slowly found their way back together. I treasured every second of his pregnancy, knowing it would likely be my last.

4 years ago today, the dream in my heart became my reality. My sweet little man made his way into my world . . . and it has NEVER been the same! For all the messes he makes (and trust me, there are MANY) . . . for all the obnoxious, unbelievable things he says or does (and embarrassingly, there are MANY) there are a thousand more moments that melt my heart . . . that take my breath away . . . that make me grateful to my very core that he is My Little Man.

Although I didn't expect that Preston turning 4 would be difficult for me, it has. I feel like I'm moving into a new era . . . one that is leaving all the baby/toddler stuff behind. And honestly, I wasn't as ready for that as I thought I was. Tonight, as he wrapped his arms around me and said his famous "Mom, I wuv you SO much", I realized no matter how old he may be, he will always be My Little Man.



Happy 4th Birthday my sweet, precious little man! I love you SO much!