Miss me?

I haven't blogged at all in what seems like forever!  These past days, since the 14th, I have spent all of my computer time emailing or checking updates of my dearest, closest and bestest friend's time with her soon to be officially adopted son in Ethiopia. I have been writing apparel orders for fall, taking the boys for "real" haircuts at the barber shop, getting ready for the women's retreat that happened this past weekend at church, and of course attending to all 3 of my now sick kids.  Sometimes it feels as though all I do is attend to sick kids, especially this time of year.  I wish that we could just skip the in between grey time of winter/spring and just head to the technicolor life of spring/summer!  I need life in full color, bursting with life around me. At least the first wave of strawberries are at the grocery stores. Strawberries equal summer days, not too hot, with the windows open, the breeze wafting through the house, my gardens bursting with growth and flowers, longer days and dinner on the grill.  Again, like so much of lives, we wait.

My friends have been waiting to bring their son home from Ethiopia since this whole adoption process started with their homestudy, 1 year, 9 months, 2 weeks and 2 days ago.  It hasn't been the smoothest, easiest, journey. There have been many bump and bruises along the way.  There have been many tears of joy and sadness shed.  It has been bittersweet.  Right now they are getting ready for the most bittersweet part, saying goodbye to their son, before they come home to the States, while they wait for the red tape to broken and the Embassy to process the rest of the adoption paperwork, so that they can go back and bring him home, where he belongs. I can't even begin to imagine what both of them are feeling.  

I feel like so much of this adoption process has been hard for me to relate to.  I have never had trouble getting pregnant or dealt with a miscarriage.  I have never had to wait as long as them for their child to come into their world. All I have been able to do is listen, hand out kleenex when it is needed, give help when it asked for and pray.  I feel like nothing I have done is tangible, something that can be hung onto, used to help make this road easier.  My emotions have been kept in check, most of the time.  I haven't been where she is, felt what she is feeling and it is hard not to be able to say, "I've been there and it does get easier."  She has friends who fill that role, who have been where she is and have done what she is doing and that is hard.  It is hard to have to share her with others.  I have learned that I am stingy with my friendships, who I call my friends, who I let into the deepest recesses of my heart, mind and soul.  She is the first, true-real best friend I have ever really had.  I had some good friends come and go through out my life but for the same number of so called "good" friends I have had just as many have hurt me and left scars that are still broken wide open from time to time.  Our friendship started when we were both broken and coming apart at the seams.  I like to think that we helped heal each other and that is what bonded us but no, I really think it was the fact that my son had "red" hair.  From that day and the days to come I spent more time at her house than I did my own.  I ate and prepared more meals in her kitchen than I did my own.  For the first time in my life, I think, I had found a friend (besides my husband) that accepted me as I was, not for what I had been or would be, just as me, faults and all.   I don't know where I would be without her, probably checked in at some place for "crazy" people.  We walked through a hard year when I was pregnant with my youngest, because he was supposed to be her baby and not mine, I wasn't supposed to be pregnant, she was.  But we came through it and as cliche as it is to say, with a stronger friendship.  Our lives are intertwined in ways that might seem weird and odd but isn't that is what friendship is? She and her family-her husband and girls and soon to be son, are our soft place to land, our family.  They have helped us grow our roots, become the people we are and now as I live five houses down the street from her, I never want to move.  I have dreamed about living on the same street as my best friend since I was a little girl living on a dirt road where neighborhoods looked like wide open spaces between houses.  She is the one who has been with me at the hospital when my kids are really sick and someone needs to be at home with the other one(s).  She is the one who I give my credit card to when I need it to disappear.  She is the one I call when I'm in crisis and need a clear head, she has talked me off my ledge a million times.   My mother-in-law has this saying that people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.  There is nothing sweeter than when those reasons turn into a season and then turns into a lifetime.  She will be in my life for a lifetime, that I know.  So now as we navigate this latest experience in our friendship, her adoption, I want to offer her something tangible, something that weaves our lives together more.  I don't know what that is but I am willing to wait, watch and learn.  For now all I can offer you my words, my prayers and my love.  Come home, friend, we can't wait to have you here but even more, we can't wait until you go again and come home with God's promise to you, your son.  You have taught me so much about patience, strength and perseverance through this adoption and I hope that it has taught you things that you didn't know about yourself but are finding out.  I hope that you let these things transform you into a woman that inspires those around you to reach outside of themselves and dive into the life around them to experience the richness that it has to offer.  As I told you this week, "Save one life. Save the world." and that is what you are doing. I thank God for you everyday. All my love!

In the Middle

I am not really sure where to start my post today.  I feel like so much of my life right now is up in the air.  From our housing situation to the hubby's employment (he still has a job-that isn't the problem) to finances and where our life is going, where God is leading us.  At almost 30 years of age I feel like I am just now learning how to move forward and live life.  


We (the husband and I) have been spent a lot of the past month on our knees, praying for God's direction in our lives, asking Him to open up windows and close doors, so that we can have a purpose in the way we live our lives.  The spring bible study that I am doing is Anne Graham Lotz's new book, "The Magnificent Obsession" based on Abraham's life in the book of Genesis.  Great study, challenging questions that make me think and evaluate how I am living and how to live life better.  Anyway, yesterday I started reading chapter 4, entitled: Pursue Everything Patiently and came across a section that I swear God had Anne put in there just for me.  Here is the passage that I want to share with you (so bear with me):
 
  "...sometimes it can be very hard for us to wait on God to do things in His time and in His way.  It doesn't occur to us that He has intentionally delayed answering our prayer or fulfilling His promise because He has a higher, greater purpose in mind than just giving us what we want, when we want it, the way we want it.  Delay doesn't mean necessarily mean denial.  It's just that God often uses the delay to develop our faith in Him as we struggle to patiently pursue everything He has for us.
     God sometimes seems to be soooooo slow! and we can become so impatient that we run ahead of Him, thinking we can either help Him answer our prayer or force Him to act on our timetable.  If we don't learn to walk alongside Him at His pace, we end up making a mess."


I will admit that I hate waiting!  I am not patient and I want answers NOW! I want God to give me a map that says, "You will be here tomorrow and over here next year.  You will stay here and put roots in and grow in the fertile soil that I have given you in order to bear fruit."  I want it all spelled out so that I don't keep trying to rush ahead of what God has in-store for our family.  I know that life isn't supposed to be easy, that we should just be praying that God gives us the strength to make it through it but sometimes I just want one thing, one stinking thing to fall together seamlessly and be wrapped up with a fancy bow as a gift just for me.  When I look at other people's lives I think how easy they have it.  It looks to me like everything is effortless and perfect and I get trapped in our culture's smoke and mirror show of having everything=happiness.  I get trapped in the "poor pitiful me"  mind frame that just erodes my soul.  My soul does not need any eroding.  


I keep asking God to lean out of heaven and whisper the magic words of my plan-not necessarily His into my ear.  I want to make Him into the God of my wishes and desires not the God of who He really is, which is something that I can't even begin to fathom or understand.  He is a God who was, who is and who will always be-He transcends ALL, all while I get lost in the smallness of my world, when I should be getting lost in the unfathomable greatness of His world and His word and the promises that it gives me. 


I don't do well when so much of my life is up for the taking.  I thrive on and long for the stability, for the assurance that everything will turn out the way it should-the way I want it to because I think that I know how it should go, how it should be.  I don't like being stuck in the middle, where it seems like we will get stuck and stay in the state of questioning, with no direction.  How long will it take, how long will I wait? I am ready for the answers, even though I am scared and nervous, even if it doesn't meet my expectations or take me the route I have already planned for myself. 

Birthdays

So it has been about a week since I last posted! Unbelievable how fast the days go.  We had company last weekend, my brother came to visit and my sister and her husband moved to Chicago right before the big blizzard hit.  When I say right before I mean like they got in at 4:30pm the day the storm started.  Needless to say we had a busy weekend with visitors, RU's 12hour sale for me and a birthday party for Owen.  I am exhausted.  I am overwhelmed by the thought of having visitors come again tomorrow.  I was so excited 3 weeks ago to have visitors coming every weekend for 3 weeks but now, now I am just plain tuckered out-weary and want to spend the day-weekend reading and eating chocolate in my bed.  But the show must go on! Excuse my poor attitude today, I've just reached my breaking point.  Instead of complaining for an entire post I will spare you all my infectious bad attitude!  Let's start over!

This week is a week of birthdays!  Well, okay only 2 really important ones but it is a week of birthday's none the less! My baby brother turned 25 on the 8th, you are now officially closer to 30 then 20 Dom and my Grandfather Bert turned 85 on the 9th, if my Great-Grandpa Chiesa was still alive his birthday would have been the 10th.  We celebrated Dom's birthday this past weekend when he was here.  Okay, celebrated might be a little bit of an overstatement but we did get a cake and sing happy birthday to him.  We probably should have showered him with presents too especially since he cooked for all of us all weekend!  It was wonderful!  To have someone else prepare the food for you, to know that they are enjoying what they are doing.  The food was great not only because it tasted good but because he made it for us, with love.  He told me that I give him too much credit for his cooking but quite frankly little brother, you don't give yourself enough credit.  Just because a recipe doesn't turn out the way you think it should doesn't mean that it didn't turn out at all, you are just too hard on yourself.  I think the motto you should be looking at is as follows: Better NOT Perfect!  He introduced us to roasted broccoli, it was omg delicious!  I can't wait to make it this weekend!   I will mess with his recipe a little bit in the future to try new ways of making it but his way is so stinking simple (good for us pretend chefs) and that is what makes it so tasty! It is interesting learning about and getting to know your siblings in new ways.  We don't live together anymore and Dom and I haven't really lived together since he was a freshman in high school.  We are bound by blood and are just now becoming friends.  He and I are the bookends of the Chiesa kids, the oldest and the youngest and for a long, long time we were just family in passing.  I am thankful that we can learn things about each other that we never knew before, that we can explore our childhood and the things that made and make us who we are together.  You are Uncle Dommy the Tiger! The tiger rides that you give my kids, your nephews and niece, remind me of the bucking bronco rides with Dad and I know that they will always carry those memories with them and smile when they remember climbing on your back!  Come back soon!

I can't believe that my Grandpa is 85.  He doesn't really seem that old, but I know that every time I come back to visit him and Grandma they have aged a little bit more.  Grandparents aren't suppose to age, aren't supposed to die, they are supposed to be around forever!  Grandpa is so frank in talking about his mortality.  Every time I talk to him on the phone he sneaks in talking about his death and the fact that he is as old as dirt itself.  Oh Grandpa!  Trying to get a hold of him on his birthday is like trying to call the pope, you can't get through! Most of us grandkids are spread out all over the country, from California to New York and everywhere in between, so you have to time your call perfectly.  It took me around 45 minutes to get through to him and when he answered the phone I had called "Kelly's Pool Hall"! I love that, I love him and his quirks! I learned that my Great-Grandfather, Grandpa Bert's dad, lived with them for a little while before he died.  Great-Grandpa Hensick liked to go outside and pee in the bushes!  The neighbors would call and tell my grandparents that he was at it again and that they might want to bring him inside to pee.  I told Grandpa that every man/boy would rather pee outside on a tree or in a bush and that my husband had taught Owen to do it when he was 3 and if Owen (or any other man/boy for that matter) had his(their) choice it would be to pee outside.  I love learning things that I never knew before about my Grandpa and who he is and where he came from.  He has left me with many wonderful, cozy memories from my childhood that surround him and the house he and Grandma owned on North Michigan.  From the vegetable garden in the back by the garage that grew green beans every summer, beans that were best eaten when warmed by the sun, picked right off the bush to the perpetual smell of his pipe, the pea soup colored refrigerator that had the freezer on the bottom to the beautiful roses that surrounded the 3 season porch and the Christmas story from Luke 2 that he read every year from his favorite recliner,the same recliner that he watched MASH from every night, to the grilled chicken he always burned because that is just the way you make it; my Grandfather is an institution into himself.  If my sons and my daughter only have half of his compassion and generosity, I think that they will be on the right path.  I miss him.  By the way Grandpa, I forgot to thank you for the bean soup, Thank you! Thank you for all the memories and words to live by, thank you for taking care of Grandma and most of all thank you for being you, I love you!

Laundry: Wash, Dry, Fold, Put Away, REPEAT

My dad called the other day and asked me what I was up to.  I told him what I always tell him: laundry.  He said "that's what you told me yesterday and the day before and the day before that."  I told him that I do laundry everyday because I don't want to spend my whole weekend washing, drying, folding and putting away laundry.  He said something to me that resembled "you do too much laundry".  He's right I do, do too much laundry but what am I going to do about it?  

My mom did laundry all the time.  She had no choice, there are 5 of us in the family and that equals mountains and mountains of laundry, especially when all 3 of us kids were in one sport or another all year round.  It is part of what we do, being the "homemaker", its part of our job description.  I know someone who likes to do the laundry, fold the laundry, put away said laundry because it gives her a sense of accomplishment.  Accomplishment is good, checking something off your to-do list is good.  I know someone who does the laundry, folds the laundry but doesn't make it to the putting away part and she is totally fine with that-more power to her.  Laundry can take over our lives, the trick is not to let it.  I surely don't want laundry to become my hobby.

I wonder how much time we spend over our lifetime doing laundry and all the little tasks that go with it.  How many times do you rewash a shirt because the grease spot or stain was still on it?  I figure that if I can at least look presentable- i.e. my clothes are clean and I have showered and dried my hair, then the rest doesn't really matter.  It doesn't matter what I feel like on the inside or if my kids are driving me up the proverbial wall, if I look well put together nobody will know the difference, though my version of put together and someone else's are two totally different things.  If only washing machines washed our souls and scrubbed them squeaky clean, then we wouldn't have to put in too much work, only the occasional pretreatment of a stain.  

Wash on my friends, wash on! 

Things I wish I had known before I had kids Part 1: Lone Ranger

My husband has a co-worker whose wife just had their first baby together in October.  She stayed home for 6 weeks, went back to work only to be laid off the same week she was back.  So now, she is home with their son full-time.  My husband can't believe how many times a day she calls her husband while he is at work.  I can!  While my husband is sure that I never called him that much when we had our first child, I am sure that I did.  There is nothing like the feeling of being alone 90% of the day.  Before you say,"you aren't alone", let me say a newborn/infant does not equal "real" person!  They do not talk, wipe their own butts, wash their own hands, put away their own laundry, burp on their own, feed themselves-they do nothing but lay there, fart, poop, cry, eat, sleep, eat some more, sleep some more, eat some more, cry some more, eat some more, poop some more, eat some more, fart some more and lay there.  They rely on you for EVERYTHING!

I never knew how lonely it would be to be home with an infant.  Sure, my husband was home in the evenings and helped out at night when the baby was up but he wasn't with me and our infant 2/3rd's of the day. It is hard to be alone, to only hear your own voice, to never feel like you accomplished anything that day.  It is hard to be someone's everything.  Which is funny to say because isn't that what we expect from our spouse, for them to be our everything?

Even now with 3 kids, almost 6, 4 and almost 2, I am lonely for adult company during the day.  I crave the weekends when my husband is home to balance our family.  Everyday my husband comes home and asks me the same thing: "Did you talk to anyone today?" Sure honey, I talked to the kids today (I talked to myself too).  But what he is asking is if I talked to another adult, someone who can actually carry on  a conversation with 7-letter words, someone else who knows what multi-tasking means, a 3-letter word, MOM.  I talk to one other adult  everyday, at the same time, over coffee, each of us in our jammies and I thank God every chance I get for her, because if she wasn't there, oh boy oh boy, I would be locked up in the looney bin, in a white-padded cell.

Motherhood (especially when you have young kids) is one of the most isolating times in life.  Before I had my lovely, adorable, perfect little monsters (do you hear the sarcasm dripping from my voice?) I had plans on how it was going to be.  I was going to have playdates everyday, crafts waiting for us to do and five-star dining for every meal.  I would have taught my child to read by 2, be self-sufficient by 3 (read that as being able to wipe ones own butt and make their own lunch) and able to put themselves to bed every night by 7pm.   I was also going to work 22.5 hours a week all while my husband was home watching the kid(s), feeding them breast milk that I had pumped just for them.  In short, I was going to be the perfect mom, WHAT WAS I THINKING????  You can't have playdates everyday-kids need to nap-they need a schedule and your house needs to be relatively clean and picked up so that it is habitable, 6-month olds can't do crafts and by the time dinner roles around you are just hoping that whatever you make is edible and isn't mac and cheese again.  There is no such thing as the perfect mom and I am certainly not one, not even one little bit.

What I do know thought is that we were not made to live life isolated and alone.  We were made to live in community with one another, to lift each other up, to help each other through each day.  Not to judge another mom who might not be dressed to the nines that day because she is tired and not feeling well and might have been up all night with a sick kid yet again.  Not to judge another mom whose child is absolutely melting down in Target because you are sure that your kid would never do that and God help him if he did.  We are constantly comparing ourselves, our own mommyhoods against every other mom we come in contact with and that does not make a community, in fact it just tears it apart and quite frankly isn't going to help anyone from being alone.

Was it Hillary Clinton, who said it takes a village to raise a child?  Whoever it was, was right because we can't do it alone and because it takes other moms to help make you a mom.

Breastfeeding

I breastfed all 3 of my babies.  Owen and I lasted 13 months.  Reese and I went for 21 months.  Finn and I stopped just shy of 6 months.  I believe that breastfeeding your child is one of the bests gifts that you can give them.  However, I believe that being able to be a fully functioning healthy mom is a significantly better gift than nursing ever will be.  If Tim and I choose to have another baby, I will not be nursing him or her. That will be devastating for a few days or a couple of weeks until my milk dries up.  For me this is honestly one of the reasons we have waited on having another baby, well that and the fact that Finn, had he been the first child instead of the third might have very well been our last.  (Read that as saying he is a very challenging baby/toddler.  It is a good thing he is cute.)

Stopping nursing Finn was one of the hardest and saddest times of my life.  But if I wouldn't have stopped I would have crumbled, my children-all of them would have suffered from my brokenness and my husband would have been left picking up the all of our fractured pieces.  I stopped nursing Finley because he was having a reaction to the Zoloft that I was taking for my depression and anxiety and because the medicine wasn't helping me at all and I wouldn't subject Finley to more chemicals racing through his tiny body.  For those of you who don't know, I have suffered from depression and anxiety since the end of high school.  I don't advertise this fact because its not really anyones business unless I tell you.  Of course there were times that I probably could have gone off my medication, those were the sweet spots, but I never did go off and I don't know if I ever will and that is okay. The doctors tell you that Zoloft is the safest medication to be on while nursing and during pregnancy but I would beg to differ with them.  Zoloft and other medications are  passed through breast milk and my poor son suffered for 6 months because of it.  He was never comfortable, always crying and arching his back.  He required being held all the time, swaddled to sleep while sleeping in our arms for 6 plus months and his stomach was constantly bothering him. Yes, I know he was born in that grey area of being full-term at 37 weeks and weighing 8lbs but he had so many preemie characteristics.  But the medicine that was suppose to be helping me wasn't and it was hurting him.  The day I put him on formula and stopped nursing was mind-blowing.  He became a different baby.  He didn't arch anymore and stopped crying as much.  He was much more comfortable in his own skin.  He still needed to be held a lot but not nearly as much as before that day.  To this day he still doesn't sleep through the night and loves to cuddle with us all night but some day that will be someone else's problem and not mine.  The formula saved us.  It let me change meds without worrying about Finn's nutritional needs.  Yes, it broke my heart and hurt like the dickens and I shed a lot of tears.  I wouldn't have made it through that time in my life without my mom's help for 3 weeks, without my best friend to talk me through my decision and off of the narrow edge I was standing on, without my husband who picked up the slack and the pieces of our fragile life.

Like I said earlier, I won't be nursing any subsequent children of ours.  I told my best friend that she is going to have to bind my boobs to keep me from trying because I don't want to get lost in the hazy and painful months of postpartum depression that is made worse by constantly fluctuating hormones.  I will be a formula mom, a bottle-feeding pro but that doesn't make me a bad mom.  It makes me a great, no-an awesome mom because I am putting my family first by taking care of me.

Whatever decision you make about feeding your baby is the right one for you and your family.  I have learned not to judge someone because they don't nurse and formula feed their children.  I will always believe nursing is best, but when it is not an option, when it hurts you more than helps you to be a good mom, its not worth it.

Hibernation Day(s)

I can't contain my excitement!!! I am impatiently waiting for this blizzard to start!  I can't stop looking out the window.  I hope that this storm is everything they say it is going to be.  Well, minus the power outages.  I like electricity.  My husband is home early, my son was let out 25 minutes early and we are going to be having a hibernation day!

I have been doing laundry today (I do it everyday but I have been really doing it today), just in case the power goes out.  I am going to vacuum, just in case.  I actually love to vacuum and it makes me feel like my house is cleaner than it actually is.  We've already shoveled twice today so that the dig out tomorrow won't be as bad, but I am sure that the few inches that we have cleared won't really diminish the amount of time that it is going to take to dig out tomorrow.  I want to make banana bread and cookies, just in case.  I want to share a meal with our best friends and laugh at the outrageousness of  the meteorologists, just because we are all home with no other plans.  I love these hibernation days that God is forcing upon us.  It makes us slow down, for even just one day, and enjoy the world around us. It makes us spend the quality time with each other that we wouldn't normally take the time to do.  Our lives were not meant to be lived in at constant hyper-speed,  to watch life go by in a blur of images.  Maybe these couple of days will remind us of that, remind us what it is like to slow down.  Remind us what life was like before our calendars threw up all over us.