A Glimpse into Our Marriage

From me to my hubby this morning:

Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince that emailed his love every day while hard at work at the Royal Music Academy. Sometimes he emailed two or three times, even. The princess, pining away in the dark dungeon filled with miniature trolls, lived for the moments when she would check her email and read longingly as once again, the prince declared his undying love for her. Upon reading those emails, the dungeon would appear brighter, little birdies would begin to sing and flutter around the princess's head, mice in stocking caps would skitter around, washing and repairing garments, and the princess would be filled with renewed strength, love and energy to face the day with all those smelly and somewhat amusing miniature trolls.


But then one day, or maybe even several days in a row, the prince failed to email. And all went dark. The birds dropped dead, the mice refused to do the laundry, and the trolls were smellier and grouchier than ever before.

Happily ever after? I think not.



His reply:

Once upon a time, there was an incredibly ugly ogre. This ogre was particularly blessed to be married to a beautiful, intelligent, witty, funny, creative, late-as-molasses princess. The ogre was off fighting very busy battles trying to get his incredibly huge pageant ready for King Jack. (school principal) The ogre forgot to send his carrier-pigeon messages to his beloved because his time was severely limited. The lovely princess was mad and sent a sarcastic message by carrier pigeon to the hideous ogre, who realized the err of his ways. He was intent on sending his own sarcastic story to the lovely princess as he ate his frozen burrito with rice. (which said scorned princess lovingly prepared, no less) He felt badly that his beautiful princess felt unloved, when, in fact, she was quite adored. The ogre knew that his princess was a wonderful blessing from heaven. Then, the ogre pricked his finger on a spinning wheel and threw the Ring of Power into the fires of Mount Doom, slaying Darth Vader's evil twin brother, Garth Vader.


And they lived happily ever after...

Burritos are good.

The end.

 
Are we a match made in Heaven, or what?

No Regrets

My first baby turned six last week.  Wow. 

I called her a baby until she turned two, and I stretched "toddler" until four.  When she turned five, I convinced myself that she was really just a big toddler, on the edge of becoming a little kid.  When she started kindergarten, she was still only five....hardly more than a baby, really.  My baby.

But now she's six, and I can no longer put off acknowledging what I know to be true.  I can't deny it, even though everything in my aching heart longs to hold onto her babyhood for a few years - or lifetimes - longer.

My little daughter is a child.

These six years have gone by so quickly, and my memories of them are a series of blurs tangled up in my already over-full mind.  Why can I no longer smell the clean, hot, soapy scent of my freshly bathed baby girl as I snuggled her up with her last bottle of the night?  Why can't my arms remember the weight of her cradled in them, fast asleep?  I can't hear her baby giggles and coos, her first words, or recall the feeling of watching her take her first steps, clap her chubby little hands or hold her sausage-arms out in a silent plea for me to hold her.

Those days are gone, as are the days when I taught her to write her name, when she drew me her first picture, when she sang her first song, when she lost her first tooth, when she learned to skip and do puzzles and decorate cookies and ride her bike and braid her hair and read a book by herself.

Time passes so quickly.

As I snuggled my little-but-getting-big baby girl this morning, I was flooded with these emotions, and simply had to pour them out.  I wish that I had all the time in the world to savor this sweet child....savor each of my children...and I will never regret giving up these years of my life....my career, extra money, a big house, nice cars, new clothes, fancy vacations, trips to the salon, my hobbies, my freedom, my social life, my very identity outside of being a mommy....to breathe myself and my faith into the very fabric of this child.

At the end of their lives, no one ever says that they wish they'd spent less time with their children when they were young.  I've never met a mother who, when her children were grown, wished she could go back and invest more of their childhoods working or building her own career, but I've heard from many who have said just the opposite.  This time is so short, they tell me.  Slow down.  Hold onto them.  Invest in them.  Enjoy them fully...the years and the children...before they're gone.  

Six years has passed in the blink of an eye, and will never be able to be grasped again, no matter how hard I try.  I'm so thankful that I'm not looking back on this time with regrets, that I figured this out at the beginning of those six years instead of when it was already too late.  The moment that beautiful, squalling baby was first placed on my heaving chest, I heard the voice loud and clear....the squalling voice, yes...but the still, small voice, too, whispering...

"This is what I have for you now.  This is what I made you for.  You will love her with a love like no other, with the kind of love I have for you.  You will breath into her all that you have learned, all that you know, all the beauty that you see.  You will sacrifice so much of your life for her, and in doing so, someday, she will be better able to see Me."

Wildfire

In the past three days, my little blog has exploded (at least in my eyes).  My stats are climbing by the hour!

My little ministry to parents raising children with Attachment Disorders...unsung heroes, in my opinion...is growing exponentially right now, and I've had almost nothing to do with it.  I've been getting tons of positive comments and feedback, both on this blog and on various facebook pages, and I so greatly appreciate knowing how something I've written has touched you.  It fills me with joy....a supernatural kind of joy, really.  In fact, I've had goosebumps for three days now!

But I also feel just a little sense of caution, and I wanted to clarify something.

I'm just a person.

I'm selfish.  I think about me a lot.

I'm grumpy sometimes, and I take it out on my kids.

I lose my temper, even though I know full well it's what my RAD kids are going for.

I like to be right.  I like to be in control.  And I like to beat a dead horse that's already been beaten.

I sit on facebook when I should be doing laundry.  Or cleaning the kitchen.  Or teaching math.  Man, I hate math.

And I'm still in my pajamas, and it's nearly three o'clock.

Need I go on?  I could.  Trust me.  I'm completely, indisputably, sinfully human. 

Since it appears that we all might be friends for awhile, I wanted to get that off my chest, so to speak.  I don't ever want anyone to think for a second that I have "it" all together.  I'm so far away from "it", that I don't even know what "it" is.  I'm not equipped to be anyone's hero, but I know the One who is.

I'm humbled and thrilled that God is using my writing to speak to your hearts.  That you and I can have a common bond and find comfort in one another; share in the joys and pains of this - the craziest of all journeys.  But if ever I write anything that speaks to you, please know that it is only by His grace....because anything that is good in me comes from Him.

And if ever I write anything that's really, really crappy....then I'll take the credit for that.  :)