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Coffee makes everybody happy. Including the mug it stained, apparently. (Can you see the eyes, nose and mouth or is it just me?)
We were just about ready to start leading music for this morning’s service when I heard the unmistakable sound of a recorder playing the classic, “Hot Cross Buns.” While I was busy wondering what irresponsible parent let their kid bring and then PLAY a recorder at church, I caught a glimpse of the offending child. And he was MY child. And he was in the balcony and I couldn’t reach him and he knew it.
#mykidskeepmehumble #whyweonlyleadmusiconceamonth#offeringnextmonthmayincludearecordersolo #hopeyoulikehotcrossbuns
I am often asked for gift ideas to celebrate an adoption. This one manages to combine sentimentality and practicality in a way I just love. My friend adopted her foster daughter this last week and she was given a “Too Big” dress. The note along with it explains that because of the uncertainties in foster care, we often don’t plan far enough ahead to own a dress for a child to grow into, but after the reality of adoption, we can begin to think in a new way- as a forever family. I don’t know where this idea originated, but my friend who just adopted her daughter got this gift from another foster/adoptive mom and when I asked her, she said got a “Too Big” dress from another mutual foster/adoptive mom friend when she adopted her daughter. I love that. We understand how hard, but necessary it is to live in the moment with our foster kids and a gift that embraces the beauty of getting to plan for the future is just perfect.
Seems like only last week my son told me he couldn’t read the words to the songs and that’s why he couldn’t sing, but now his reading fluency has improved so much that he’s able to read all the words so he can run the powerpoint for the service. . . Oh wait, that WAS last Sunday that he told me he couldn’t read the words so he didn’t have to sing. . .
#Ivebeenhad #doesntwanttosing #doeswanttodoslides
Adult trying to move a piece of furniture = all children in the home come sit on that piece of furniture
Danny: Mom! Feel how soft this is! (rubs something on my cheek)
Me (reading, not really listening): Mmmhmmmm. That’s really soft.
Danny: And it’s REAL. It’s a REAL raccoon tail! Mr. Eric said they boiled all the bugs off it, so it’s fine to touch it.
#whenyourneighborsarehunters #whatIgetfornotlistening#hesleepswitharacoontailnow #alsohasacanofdeerteeth#birdfeathercollection #antfarm #DannytheNaturalist
Last Friday I ran out the door with a carseat in my hand to drop off at a friend’s house who was about to meet her potential first foster placement. We often talk about the mix of emotions in foster care, the bitter and the sweet. That starts with these very first moments- the sadness that this child can’t safely live with his family and the joy that he will know a loving home that will respect his family, advocate tirelessly for him, and be willing to risk their own heartbreak so that he can experience stability in their home. I got a little choked up as I set the carseat down on their welcome mat. “Home Sweet Home” for however long he needs it. In a perfect world there would be no need for foster care, but until that day comes we need families who are willing to welcome these precious kids with open arms and loving homes. We can feel guilty about being happy that a child enters our home since we know that means they experienced loss, but I’m learning to make peace with that tension because I only want to see kids end up in homes that are happy to have them. We aren’t happy for the sadness they’ve experienced, we’re happy that we get the joy of knowing and loving them and their families. That love allows us to grieve with them as we embrace this bittersweet life.
It’s not that I love hosting our church small group, it’s just that if I don’t do it, I’m pretty sure I’ll never mop again. . .
#pleasesayImnottheonlyone #actuallydoenjoyit #justhatemopping
Carrie (3):. . . And then I have Hot n’ Candy for dessert!
#soclose #cottoncandy #toddlerlinguistics
Thing I Never Thought I’d Say #228: Who took the Magic 8 Ball into the bathroom?
Me: (sniff). . . Oh Buddy, did you poop in your pants?
Him: Uhhhhh, no thank you.
Carrie: What you doing, Mom?
Me: I’m reading.
Carrie (leans in close to my head, listens then whispers): I can’t hear it, Mom.
I don’t always poke myself in the eye with the mascara wand, but when I do, it’s when I’m already running late.
#nowImcrying #makeupisruined #startagain #notgreatatwomaning
Sign you have a fever: You look at the thermometer and think, “Well, if it isn’t over 100, then it isn’t a fever. Whew!” and it doesn’t occur to you that you’re looking at a celsius temperature.
Danny (8): Tell Grandpa we like his idea. And then send him an emoji like this (makes a giant grin) or just a big thumbs up.
Me: I just love your brown eyes and beautiful curls. Where did you get such beautiful curls and big brown eyes?
Carrie (3): Grandpa? Jesus?
Me: You have beautiful curls and big brown eyes just like your birthmom! God made you so beautiful just like your birthmom.
Carrie: And Grandpa. Grandpa have brown eyes.
Me: Grandpa does have brown eyes!. . . Carrie, did you grow in my tummy?
Carrie: No. . . I growed in your back! No. On your shoulders? Not in your tummy, Mom.
#adoptiontalkswithtoddlers #stillworkingitout #shefigureditouteventually
I saw a Facebook post written by a dad who was supportive of his wife’s desire to co-sleep with their kids and he was encouraging other dads to do the same, even if it meant curling up in the corner of a bed sometimes. Something about that post felt a little off to me, but I couldn’t quite figure it out. Then last night I woke up in the middle of the night, rolled over and saw my husband with two of our kids snuggled up next to him- one on either side. I don’t know when those kids came into our bed and they didn’t come to me at all, but went straight to their daddy. That’s when I realized what was bothering me about that post. Dad’s don’t need to just be cheerleaders of what moms are doing, but active participants in creating that family culture. I think the dad who wrote that original post would probably agree because this is two sides of the same coin- it’s valuable for dads to voice their support for moms and for moms to reiterate that dads need to matter in these conversations, too. My desire isn’t for my husband to just support my decisions about what makes me the kind of mom I want to be, but for him to express what kind of dad he wants to be and what kind of home he wants us to be creating. I’m not advocating for or against co-sleeping (you do what works!), just for dads to feel like their voice matters in the parenting conversations. This season in life is short and once these kids are no longer in our bed, I want the guy I still share it with to be my partner- sharing input even when we disagree, learning to compromise together, and creating a family we both enjoy.
Carrie (3): Mooooooommm?
Me: I’m in here.
Carrie: You in the potty? Oh, I sorry! (walks away)
#myworkhereisdone #canfinallypottyinpeace #missionaccomplished#somebodygivethatgirlsomechocolate
Teddy (2) sneezes, waits 10 seconds: Sigh. . . Bless you, Teddy.