My Devotion at church

Last spring I signed up to do the devotion portion of our GIFT (Growing In Faith Together) group. Here is what I presented that day.

Since Mother’s Day is right around the corner and Father’s Day isn’t too far off, I want to talk today about being a parent. It wasn’t too long ago that I wasn’t sure if we would ever be parents. We lost our first baby through a very complicated miscarriage in January 2001. I finally got pregnant again with some help from medical intervention in October 2002. Our son Gabe was born in July 2003. I remember one time when he was about 4 months old. He was sleeping in my arms as I rocked him. I looked down at his face and thought, “He is the greatest thing I have ever done.” Don’t you think that’s how God thinks of us?

Jeremiah 1:5 “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.”

I don’t think I ever truly understood what a sacrifice God made for us when he sacrificed Jesus for our sins. How many of us would be willing to do that? But that’s exactly how much he loves us! Completely and perfectly.

When we were trying to get pregnant I prayed and prayed and prayed. I prayed for things to happen on my time schedule, not God’s. It got the point where I would lay in bed at night and pray, “Okay God, you know what I want. Just please give me a baby!” I swore to him that if I was lucky enough to be a parent that I would be so patient. I wouldn’t be like those regular parents who grew impatient and angry (imagine that, angry with your children?!) because I would know how much we longed for this child and I would truly know what a blessing it was to have a child. And we were blessed with a child! Not on our time schedule for sure. Especially since we were going to wait until our second son Benjamin was at least two before we tried again. Well, Ben is 2.5 and our daughter Lyndee is 1! Who’s in charge here? Am I extraordinarily patient? No! Do I yell? Yes! Do I get angry and frustrated? Yes. Have my children tested me? Yes! I’ve even been known to get down face to face with Gabe and say rather loudly, “We tried really hard to have you! Now behave!”

Don’t you think God feels like us sometimes as parents? He is extraordinarily patient. I’m sure he gets angry and frustrated with us. I’m sure we test Him every day with our worldliness and disregard for prayer and scripture. Do you think sometimes he shakes his head and says, “I gave Jesus’ life for you! Now behave!”

And yet, in the midst of dirty diapers, cutting up food in bite size morsels, wiping up fruity pebbles that become like glue if left on any surface…I am so thankful to be where I am at! I am amazed at how my heart can swell with love for my kids.

1 John 4:7-8 Whoever loves is a child of God and knows God. Whoever does not love, does not know God for God is love.

1 Peter 4:8 Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins.

I challenge you this week to love your children as completely as possible. To know that the way you love them is the way that God loves you. I also challenge you to treat a little bit of each day as Father’s day, not for your husband or your dad, but for God. Give thanks in prayer for the love you are able to give others because He first loved us.

Mission Impossible

One of the things you worry about most as a parent is what your kids are eating. Or not eating. Or eating too much of. Or not enough of!

My worry about all of this started when my oldest was about 3.5 months old and was diagnosed with a protein allergy. He started having bloody diapers and was really cranky and so we brought him in to a pediatric GI doctor. Since the doctor wasn't sure what was causing this, he put me (since I was a nursing mama) on what I dubbed the "prisoner's diet." The three biggest allergens for kids are dairy, meat and soy. So, I could eat nothing that had dairy, meat or soy in it. Well, that's pretty much everything. We worry about not getting enough soy. Really people, soy is in EVERYTHING! Even licorice! So I ate whole wheat bread with fake butter and honey, vegetable soup, rice and hot tamales. Yuck. I tried to eat this way for about a week, lost 7 pounds, and gave up. Not only that but Gabe's diapers weren't getting any better, and neither was he.

So, after a colonoscopy for him and a definitive diagnosis of a protein allergy, we started him on formula. Not just any formula, the most expensive one you could buy. It was called alimentum and it was $25 for a small can. So we spent upwards of $200 every month on formula. But it had to be one where the proteins were already broken down for him or he would continue to be anemic. Easy choice. And he was on that formula for 15 months until we could gradually start introducing protein and dairy and soy into his diet.

To look at him now, you would never guess he started out as a skinny little anemic baby. He's 47" tall and 54 pounds at 5 years old. He's got little love handles and he is solid. Very soon there will come a day when I won't be able to lift him!

But last fall, I still worried about him. My mom was diagnosed with celiac which is an allergy to wheat. Those with celiac have to follow a very strict gluten free diet or have a recurrence of symptoms. While checking this out about my mom, I saw symptoms for children and Gabe had 4 of the 5 of them. Pale skin, distended abdomen, tummy aches, and large malodorous stools. The only one he didn't exhibit was failure to grow.

Back to the pediatric GI doc we went. They ran some blood tests, which were negative. And had to do some stool samples. Here's where the Mission Impossible comes in. Go ahead, sing the song in your head. I know I did. At the clinic they gave me a big orange bag with a stool collection kit and instructions in it. I couldn't believe it when I got home and read it. "Once a stool is collected, the sample must be to the lab in 30 minutes or the test will not read accurately." THIRTY MINUTES? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I've got a 9 month old, a 2.5 year old, a 4.5 year old, and a 10 minute drive to the clinic! Okay, deep breath, I can do this. And so I readied myself. And waited. And waited. I waited for three days for Gabe to, well, you know, give me a sample! And when that sample happened, Lyndee and Ben were sleeping, it was snowing, I was packing and we were getting ready to leave on a weekend get away!

Here we go. Plop, plop. Sample secure. Put sleeping Ben in his car seat. No coats today kids, no time. Sweatshirts are fine, we're using the subway anyway. Wake up baby. Change quick diaper. No shoes necessary, you can't walk anyway. 27 minutes to go.

Get Gabe in the car, grab diaper bag with snacks, bottle, sippy cups. Walk out front door. Walk back in, put on my own shoes. Buckle myself in, back out of driveway, look in rear view mirror, drive back in driveway, open up garage door, open up back of van, place double stroller in back of van. 19 minutes to go.

Drive (within posted speed limits) to clinic, drive to parking ramp, "please take the ticket," drive in, find a parking space. Open up back of van, get out double stroller. Wake up Ben, put him in stroller with sippy cup, get out baby, put her in stroller with bottle. Get out Gabe, close van doors, lock van, go to elevator. 9 minutes to go.

Take elevator to subway level. Go ahead, keep singing the song! 7 minutes.

Pause briefly in subway lobby to admire Medusa like art hanging from the main floor ceiling. Take a right past Gonda Building elevators and Mayo elevators. Pause briefly to listen to volunteer playing piano music. 5 minutes.

Tell Gabe to hurry up, glance down to make sure I have bright orange bag, panic, move diaper bag, relax again. 3 minutes.

Pull Gabe along as he insists on jumping over every decorative carpet band ("swamp") that occur every 20 feet. Arrive at lab desk, panting, sweating, Medusa looking myself, at 29 minutes. Whew! I did it!

I hand it to the lab attendant who asks. "How long ago was this sample taken?"

"Thirty minutes ago," I proudly say.

"Wow, it takes most people 45!" She says admiringly.

I mentally pat myself on the back and use the hand sanitizer so graciously provided by the clinic.
"Have a nice day," I say as a saunter away. We go in to the subway coffee shop where we sit for just a few minutes where I leisurely sip my Diet Coke as I watch a woman with a single stroller dragging along her toddler carrying a bright orange bag. "Ha, I had a double stroller," I think to myself. "I got you beat!"

(And by the way, good results! No celiac for the Gman. And his belly's getting smaller. It must be those sit ups his daddy taught him!)

Every three weeks

Every three weeks or so I freak out. Literally. About everything. My husband can attest to this, my kids run the opposite direction, my best friend listens patiently. They weather the storm and hopefully we are all calmer on the other side. Most of the time I can coast along, very easy going and not let too much bother me and then BAM, it happens.

Here's how it goes.
Matt?
What. (He sits calmly reading the paper.)
I can't stand this anymore.
What. (Good thing I can't see his "here we go again" eye roll at the kids.)
The toys!
What. (Kids leave the room.)
The clothes.
What. (He turns on the tv.)
The dogs.
What. (He pets dog absentmindedly as he turns on ESPN.)
The carpet.
What. (He sighs as he checks out the score.)
The money.
What. (He makes mental note to tell me about what he spent at Buffalo Wild Wings.)
ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?
What?! I said, What? (We go to McDonald's for dinner.)

The toys. We have too many toys. I love toys, the kids love toys, Matt loves toys. But I, well, I love them and hate them. I love the idea behind toys. I hate the clutter they represent. And I swear, toys breed during the night. They get put away at bedtime and are clean when we get up, when all of a sudden by 8:05, toys have exploded in the living room. I swear I could pick up all day long and they would still be everywhere. I'm pretty sure that toys have secret lives and when my back is turned, they scuttle out of the bins where they've just been placed back to the corner of the bathroom, my bed, under the crib, or on the dining room table where I just found them 5 minutes ago and put them away.

And McDonald's. God Bless McDonald's for those nights when I absolutely detest cooking, but I swear the Devil invented Happy Meal toys. I could go the rest of my life without ever looking at another Made in China car, transformer, neopet, movie character, etc. They multiply too. I used to pick up a few of those toys in the free pile at garage sales. Now I loathe them and try to dump them off in my free pile!

And who doesn't love baby toys? But what baby needs 27 BIG walk around, crawl around, pull themselves up, musical, letter chanting, cheerio/juice magnet toys? Okay, so 27 is an exaggeration, but even the 4 we have drive me nuts. And yeah, they're fantastic. When they're the ONLY toy you have for your ONLY child! But add two more kids and 4,000 other toys and it is enough to drive you over the edge. Can you tell I'm at the the three week freak out stage? And I already had my garage sale for the summer!

There are nights, those late up till 2am nights I occasionally have, where I actually get pleasure sorting out all of the toys. I get the bins from the basement, the boxes from the boys' room, the baskets and tubs from behind the couch, and the toy tub from the van and have at it. I sort animals, superheroes, balls, tub toys, guys, Little People (not real little people, you know the fisher price plastic ones that replaced the lead paint choking hazards I grew up with) and yes, Happy Meal toys. And the little people get sorted into Noah's Ark, the Farm, the Bus, the School. Yep, we've got it all. And there is always a Goodwill pile (those poor people, they must want to lock the door when they see me coming!) and a throw away pile. And I have to do all this in the wee hours of the morning because my kids would earnestly argue that they WOULD play with all of these and they WOULD put them away each night. And not only my kids, but my husband, too.

I laugh at those organizing articles in parenting magazines or on HGTV or TLC. The kids in those shows have maybe 10 toys and a room that's equal to the square footage of my whole main floor. And it's not a bedroom or a living room, it's an actual PLAY ROOM! I drool over the Pottery Barn catalog with the rooms and the organization that they have. If I had that much space, wow, could I be organized! Or maybe I'd just have more room for more toys. Then I'd REALLY freak out. But maybe it'd only be about every 5 weeks instead of every three!

And guess what, it was just birthday central at our house. You can't NOT give kids toys for a 3 year old and 5 year old birthday! And they loved it! And I want my kids to have toys. Just not in my living room, and dining room, and bathroom, and bedroom......

As much as I'd love to talk more about the clothes, the dogs, the carpet and the money, I have some bins, boxes, tubs and baskets waiting to be sorted. Don't worry. It'll be better in the morning. Until 8:05.