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by Lori Ann

Indestructibles

Sometimes, on the hard days, I think to myself, “Come on baby, Mama has needs too, and who’s meeting them?” Then Jesus answers my heart, in the most loving and tender way possible, “I am, and if you’re seeking for someone else to meet your needs, you’re the one in the wrong – not her.” And I look at my darling baby, and have compassion for her neediness, and know that He’s right.

How do you cope on the hard, everyone-needs-you, no-one-gives-Mama-a-break days?

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by Saruskabeth, of http://www.threeinthree.com

Feb 10, 2007

At midnight, on a cold february day in 2007,  I held in my hands a tiny, wrinkled, screaming infant. And I fell in love. Every day, all day long, I would kiss his little fingers and belly and toes and  nose and tell him “I love you.” When he gazed up at me in awe, I told him, “I love you.” When he cooed and smiled and (finally!) laughed, I told him, “I love you!” When he cried and screamed, I told him, “I love you!” He learned to roll over, crawl, walk, talk…and everyday he heard, “I love you! I love you!”

I love my children with everything I am. They are my world, my priority above all else. But as they get older, as the “novelty” wears off, so to speak, there are moments, sometimes days, when I don’t express my love as easily as I once did. When Dewy spills his juice for the fourth time, or when Paby looks me in the face and screams, “YOU’RE NOT MY FRIEND ANYMORE!” When Mazzen throws a fit because I won’t leave my boobie hanging out all day, and when the boys destroy their room moments after I finish putting everything away.

And to be completely honest, in those moments I don’t feel very loving. I feel angry. Taken advantage of. Disrespected. At the very least frustrated. And, rather than speak out of love, I sometimes speak out of anger. I say, “you’re driving me crazy!” And “why are you trying to make me mad?” In those moments, I put the boys in time out and say, “you’re being very naughty,” and “I don’t want to hear it.”

One particularly rough day I became more agitated than I can ever remember being at a child. I was so angry I couldn’t speak. I clenched my fists at my sides, felt my jaw grow stiff, when to my surprise, I heard a voice in my head say “I love you.” I looked at my child’s tearful face and realized that he was fully aware of how angry I was; he didn’t need to hear me say it. What he did need was reassurance. So I knelt down, took him by the hands and said, “I love you.” And oh, the relief that flooded my body and my son’s face!  To know that, despite his misbehavior and disobedience, he was still loved!!!

It struck me then how important it is to express your love; not just when the warmth of it overwhelms your senses to the point you can’t help but say it, but when you are so angry you don’t want to.  Kids are strong, yet fragile. They aren’t fully in control of their actions, and can become frustrated at themselves when they feel they have disappointed a parent. Just to know that, despite their outburst, their behavioral faux pas, they are still loved…it can change everything.

Now, when one of my children does something that makes me angry, I remind myself of a few things.

1.) I’m not going to actually go insane because the kids are acting up.

2.) No, they really don’t try to infuriate me.

3.) This is the child I carried in my womb for nine months, in my arms for many more, and will carry in my heart for eternity.

Paby, Dewy, Mazzen, Baby#4: I love you. I always will.

Easter, 2011 photo by Jessica Johnson

Happy Fourth Birthday, my not-so-baby boy!!

Today, February 10th, 2011, my baby boy turns four. Seems like yesterday he was born! He’s not my tiny, scrawny 6lb 4oz baby boy any more! Its been four years since I squeezed my husband’s hand so hard he had finger-shaped bruises for a week! Forty-eight months since I saw those beautiful blue eyes for the first time.Two-hundred and eight weeks since I first experienced the bond that comes from breastfeeding. One-thousand four hundred and sixty days since I discovered what love really is. Read the rest of this entry »

^_^ Saruskabeth ^_^

Growing up too fast!

Madison has a tooth! Finally! Those buggers have been pushing at her gums since she was two months old! Now, after 12 agonizing weeks (for all of us,)   that pearly white made it through! Its still hard to see, but gosh can you feel it. She is exclusively breastfed, as were her brothers, and I’m tellin’ ya…ouch. Just….ouch. She’s also begun to wave, crawl, eat semi-mashed solids, and stand unsupported. Wait…who told her she was allowed to grow up? 

More so now than ever before, I feel this incredible mix of joy, pride, and desperation when one of my babies develop a new skill. I feel like the last three and a half years have disappeared into oblivion, and I want them back! Not that I don’t feel blessed to have such amazing kids, but I feel like I’m missing out on something in a way. Is it due to the closeness of their ages? Have I taken in too much information over the last few years to retain it all?

I remember their births like it was yesterday; the joy, the pain, the beauty. And I recognize their personalities as people. But its the inbetween I can’t seem to recall. When the heck did Payten start talking? Dylan is turning how old!? Madison did WHAT??? I mean, I know the facts. Payten got his first tooth at four months. Dylan at 6. Both boys were walking well at 10 months. Madison started crawling at 5 months. But its the memory itself I can’t seem to recall. The stories; the beginning, middle, and end. Was I really so busy with pregnancies and other children that the memory didn’t engrave itself in my mind?

I sometimes worry that I’ve been somehow negligent in my duties as a mother. Is the small age gap going to affect my boys later on? Have I not bonded well enough with my kids? Do children “deserve” to be an only child for three or four years? Thats what all my baby books say. “The best time to get pregnant is two years after your last birth. Its best for your body, safest for the baby, and healthiest for the older child.” Payten was 8 1/2 months when Dylan was conceived, and Dylan was 9 1/2 when Madison was. Is that why they started walking early? Is it the reason Payten talks like a child three times his age?

I don’t know, and probably never will. What I do know is this: I love my children with every fiber of my being. I can’t (and wouldn’t) change the past, but I can do everything in my power to keep their futures bright. Knowing every tiny detail of their babyhoods won’t keep them babies, nor will it make me a better mother.

So I chose to cast off my doubts, quiet my insecurities, and simply, purely love.  That, and maybe buy a video camera.

by LoriAnn

Discipline is forcing yourself to drink fluids when you’re vomiting over and over again because you know you’re supposed to stay hydrated. Love is forcing yourself to drink fluids despite the vomiting because you need milk to keep your dear child hydrated.

I’ve never been very good at self-discipline. But little Tigger sure is teaching me Love.

Excuse me if I’m missing for awhile, but I’ve discovered a new food allergy the hard way and probably won’t feel much like being online for a day or so!

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