this one

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This one freaked me out bad. We already had a minivan and a (big enough) house and a family insurance plan. So expanding our family should have been simple. But life was busy and chaotic and filled with poop and I wasn't sure I could give my heart to another just yet. 

This one came into the chaos and fit right in. She learned to walk and then run and then whip and nay nay. One of her first sentences was, "Everybody calm down." Now, almost four, she leads our pack of weirdos in all her weird glory. 

This one says things like, "Mom, I can help. Cleaning poop is my middle name." And then I resign that this part of motherhood is probably not for me and I just let her do her thing. Cleaning poop is not my middle name. It's not that I wanted to hand the job over, it's just that you might as well leave it to the expert. 

I can explain

Adding this one to the family has been such a joy. Sure, there are added stresses- I have to make sure six people have regular dental visits and clean underwear now. But, the joy. There is so much joy here that we are currently wearing halloween costumes in front of the Christmas tree. It's January 27.

This one wears what she wants and eats what she wants and tells the much older and bigger than her people in this home to get it together, and listen, I am just tired and a little appreciative that someone else around here is trying to be in control. So this is how we live. #YOLO, man. 

I am so very thankful to be this one's mom. She has brought immeasurable joy and laughter into our home. I can't help but think, nevermind- I can't help but know, that this one was part of God's masterful, wild, and crazy plan for my life. 

Tell me I'm not the only one that has this one. Let's hear it. Did God freak you out and then fix it?

I am all in for God's crazy plans exceppppptttt I'm about out of seats in the Toyota, soooooo... 

 

chin hairs

deodorant and feelings

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I am not typically an overly emotional person. I am not one to lose my temper or to "cry over spilled milk" (unless it is milk that I have painstakingly extracted from my bosoms for the nourishment of my offspring– this I have been known to spill and shortly thereafter freak the heck out).

Degree for Men

Anyways, one might think that I would handle it well when I sent Travis to pick up Waylon's hygiene supplies for school, and he came home with this:

WHAT THE WHAT

The school supply list said "deodorant" (which I already object to, because my sweet little mama's boy smells as delightful as the lavender Johnson & Johnson's that I still bathe him in) NOT DEGREE FOR MEN. Cripes.

I did not handle it well.

Perhaps Travis was caught in the crossfire of all the feelings I have been feeling these past few weeks. 

I have been feeling a little bit stressed over a rather large therapy bill from the summer, and I have been feeling a little pissed at the insurance company for not paying it. I have been feeling a bit confused about how to decipher CPT codes and EOBs, and I have been feeling a bit like screaming-bloody-murder at the poor little insurance customer service lady because insurance companies are stupid and life is hard and MY HUSBAND BOUGHT DEGREE FOR MEN FOR MY EIGHT YEAR OLD.

I have been feeling pretty nervous that the clock is ticking and he is eight and he hasn't miraculously recovered yet. I have been feeling a little sad that Waylon's class handbook said they will be working on life skills and participating in the Special Olympics this year- things that I should be feeling excited about, but am just not ready to swallow. 

I have been feeling hopeful about the boatloads of {hella expensive} progress he's made this summer. When I say, "What's your name?" and he says "Way-yun" I feel like jumping out of my pants with excitement. When I got the text from his new teacher with his first teacher/Waylon selfie of the school year (because he is the cutest {and apparently best smelling} kid in class, you know), I was feeling so so so proud. And when I was trying to post this freaking adorable picture on facebook but I couldn't because MY FACE WAS WET (see first line... "I am not typically an overly emotional person." LIE.) <--- see what I did there with the boldfaced lie.

First Day of School

I was feeling like melting into a big puddle of mom love. 

Really look at this picture. Look at it. These kids are so in love with each other. Gahhhhhhhh. Mom love.

When I clean up my wet face and shut up about the deodorant thing and really take a look at my life, I feel like the luckiest mom on the whole entire planet.

Even though MY HUSBAND BOUGHT DEGREE FOR MEN FOR MY EIGHT YEAR OLD. Cripes.

the naive one

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Once upon a time, there was a couple with an amazingly cute, charming, well-behaved three-year-old, and a growing, losing-the-baby-look, busy, giggling one-year-old, and they said "Parenting is easy. Let's have another!"

And God smiled.

So they were blessed with the naive one.

The naive one does not know what autism is. She has a brother who is sometimes annoying, but she loves him so much. She gets in his face. She drags him around. She is bossy, and rude, and gives sloppy kisses. He is crazy and wild and splashes water in her face. She steals his cars, just to hear him scream. He screams, she stomps her feet, and they have an argument... without words.

And so he grows up in a neurotypical sandwich, worth more than all the therapy in the world.

The naive one has far passed him developmentally, but she doesn't know it yet. She think she's his mother, but then again, she thinks she is all of ours' mother. She has high expectations for him. He is her big brother, after all.

So yesterday, the naive one yells "I love you Mom!" twice. I say, "You just said that, silly girl." And she says, "I know, the second one was from Waylon. He's shy."

I've said it once, and I'll say it again. This is stuff you can't dream. And all year long, but especially this week, I am ever so grateful to the One who concocted this life of mine. God is so good.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of your families, from ours.