Gage and the {change}

Gage is our picky eater. I used to insist that he eat what I fix for him with no other options. It wasn't until he actually puked because of a particular food combination/texture that I opted for a plan 'b'. He still eats what we eat...but I try to separate things out for him. He's so quirky - but we wouldn't have it any other way! I'm really glad that he's trying new foods though...

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Lately Gage has really been growing into his skin. It's so fun to watch your little {man} grow...up...and {in}. He's often referred to as our ornery kiddo...the challenge one...the dreaded title of "middle child". When he turned 3, I labeled him 'passionate'. I wasn't sure if we'd survive this fearsome fourth year, but I'm happy to report that we've all grown a little; Gage in particular.

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He's "listening to the good angel" a lot more often and insists in pointing out the bully in any conflict.

Fairness is important to Gage but he's still learning that 'fair' doesn't mean everybody gets the same thing; it means everyone gets what they need.

He prays/sings each night at dinner and beams with pride.

Sometimes I think Gage really does believe that he is a black knight - his imagination is FUN.

He stopped tormenting our dog.

He's obsessed with becoming an 'army dude' and responds really well when I tell him that army dudes obey their commands.

He almost always obeys his 'army commands'.

He does his chores - cheerfully (finally).

He really, really, really...wants to marry {me}. (melt)

He LOVES games; especially Go-Fish and Twister.

He has this little personality passion that makes my heart smile.

His facial expressions are completely adorable and hysterical.

He brushes his own teeth.

He has a photographic memory that stops JD and I in our tracks.

He's reading...and loving it.

He reads his bible and tells me about it.

He's learning what's good for his body...and what's good for his brain.

He's taken to Legos...especially StarWars and "Harry Partner".

I just love the {joyful life} behind those little eyes. And truthfully? I wouldn't want our orneriest, most passionate kid to be any other way.

Is Santa {really} Real?

We took the boys on the Polar Express train ride a while back. We knew it would include some make-believe along the way and the truth is, that's why we went.

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We like make-believe around here. See:

There's something about the {magic} of make-believe; about the wonderment of 'anything is possible'. It ignites the eyes. It's pre-bills and pre-work.to.do and pre-sleeplessness and pre-bitterness and pre-, well, pre-adult. It's what {is} childhood. Don't I wish sometimes, to return to the land of make-believe? Maybe that's why I'm on this train.

I used to make-believe that I was Anne of Green Gables. I would wrap my parent's Christmas tree skirt around my waist and frolick through the fields. It made me just about this happy too:

To say we were excited about this train ride would be a pure, solid understatement. We were simply ecstatic. All of us.

Jaxson wasn't real sure what to expect. Afterall, it was his very first make-believe experience. He peered out the window, catching a fair dose of the contageous excitement from his brothers. What was to come? What was all this hub-bub about???

Does it pretty much boil down to this guy? Good 'ol Saint Nick in all his glory. What a guy!

He came aboard with his {redness}; even ringing bells and singing elves in tow. What a show. What a delite. What a {magical} evening for our family!

JD and I had decided we'd go along with the whole "Santa" thing for a while. The kids would get a Santa gift and we'd do the cookies and milk thing but it definitely wouldn't be a FOCUS of Christmas. I mean, JD and I both believed in Santa and turned out okay. I, admittedly embarassed, was a Santa-believer until at least 7th grade. Just when I'd share with my dad a tiny bit of skepticism, out would come the movie, 'Miracle on 34th St'. He believed; and so did I. I never asked...I just tried, on my own, to figure it out. Eventually, I did...about the same time I learned that the moon really wasn't made of cheese.

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The problem with adopting this theory of Santa is that I don't have 'figure it out' kids. I have 'ask point blank' kids. I don't have little people who were like me. They don't share their skeptisism; they share their questions. They want answers. {Real} ones. This really screwed up the whole Santa plan we had going.

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Fast forward to last Thursday. Christmas is long-gone. The celebration is waning, the decor is tucked away, and we're on to the New Year that January pushes us into. Ryan and I are driving home from school when another question conversation ensues:

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Ryan: "Mom, is Santa real? I mean, is he {really} real?"

Me: "Well sure. Saint Nick was a real man who made real toys for real orphans a {really} long time ago." (I'm feeling proud of my response at this point).

Ryan: "No, I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about SANTA...and the sleigh, the reighndeer, and all of that....is that stuff REAL?"

Me: "Repeat of previous response" (maybe he just didn't hear me????)

Ryan: (Getting impatient) "No. What I want to know is, is Santa...in the red suit...at the North Pole with elves and stuff...is he {really} real or just FAKE?"

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Long Pause (I'm thinking that we had this great plan. I mean, JD and I have gone back and forth about this whole Santa situation. How can you tell your kids that Santa and Jesus are BOTH {really} real when you only mean that Jesus is {really} real and Santa is {really} not real. But then again, we both turned out okay and have a strong faith foundation of Who Jesus is and who Santa {isn't}. But Jack's not here and I am so what the heck am I going to tell this kid who is asking me POINT blank for the T>R>U>T>H?)

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Me: "No, Ryan. Santa at the N.Pole is NOT {really} real. He is make-believe. He and his elves are a fun pretend story that we like to make-believe because it's exciting to think about. But you know who {really} is real?

Ryan: "hmm?"

Me: "Jesus. He's {really} real. He {really} came to his Earth as an infant and died on a cross as payment for our sins so that we can go to heaven and live with Him there. He's {really} real and Santa is {really} make-believe.

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Long Pause. Ryan's taking it in.

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Ryan: "Um, mom? Can I ask you a question?"

Me: "Always."

Ryan: "Then...who ate the cookies?"

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I used to think we had it kinda figured out. We could teach our kids the {truth} and make-believe at the same time. We had, after all, a plan. It's not that I think my parents (or JD's parents) did it wrong. They in fact, did a LOT right. But I think we just drew a different kind of kid-card. I reached a point in parenting when I simply could not, NOT tell the {truth}. I don't want them to grow into who they are believing that Santa will bring them anything they desire. The truth is, Santa is going to disappoint and it's kinda the tip of the iceberg.

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Just ask Jaxson.

There's a place in the middle though. Santa's not bad. He's not the devil. Make-believe doesn't equal no faith. The truth is the truth and make-believe is make-believe. I'm thinking at this point, that maybe there's a little room for both so long as we know what's {really} real.

"Go big or go home." ~ mother of the year

I'm running out of space to store all of my "Mother of the Year" awards. There just simply aren't enough shelves and walls...

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There's the time I accidentally sent Ryan to school with a bottle of wine in his backpack. Never mind that the wine was free from a wedding the Saturday before and never mind that I simply stuffed the contents of the entire car into Ryan's backpack when I was cleaning it. Whoops. I must have forgotten those 'contents' when I reminded Ryanie to grab his backpack on Monday morning. IT was pretty odd seeing a 7 year old grabbing a wine bottle around it's neck, scolding me for putting "alcohol in my lunch!". This little mis-hap could end with a Jeff Foxworthy's "Where's your sign?" but I think a Lisa McElroy's "Where will you hang {it}?" will suffice.
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Or there's the time when he refused to eat his lunch and a para pro told me so. When I walked into the cafeteria to see what was up, Ryan was all up in sorts. So maybe, just maybe, I forgot to pack him a {new} lunch and he was staring at last Friday's (aka-sat in a hot car all weekend long) lunch. Whoops. "Where will you hang {it}?"
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You should have seen Gage at his Christmas pageant a few nights ago. Never mind that he had his lines memorized. Or that he sang the songs beautifully-hand signals and all. The icing on the cake was when he gave JD the "rock on" sign when he spotted him and then began "machine-gunning" the audience. "Where, or where, for the love of mothers-of-the-year, will I hang {it}?"
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Like I mentioned, mother.of.the.year. Seems to be a title that just hunts me down like Dog, the Bounty Dude.
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It's me, though. It's, {us}. Jd wonders why I even care that Gage's Me-Board is just so or Ryan's education binder is tabbed and labeled. He laughs it all off but he wasn't the one...the one sitting in the chair at our Chiro. appointment yesterday when I got thee BIGGEST M.O.Y award yet. Let's call it a moment of silence. Silent shame. Silent I can do better. I'm not going to bother writing down all the grimy details; I'm just going to publicly hold myself accountable by typing it before my own eyes. It's never to late to do it right, right? (It's nothing MAJOR, but kinda is, you know?)
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And so it is, Go BIG or go home spoken from a true Mother.Ofthe.Year. Some people make new year's resolutions. We are in the process of a total family makeover. I don't know if we'll survive. . .but 2012 will be different for us.

1. No sugar.
2. No TV (except 2 hrs. on non-school nights)
3. If there's something we want our children to know, we will embrace the responsibility to teach it.


I know this stuff is probably pretty basic for most people. I guess maybe we just fell off the wagon? Whatever the case, it may be a pretty bumpy road back to the straight and narrow. Stay tuned.

Let me tell you about the {lines} on my face.

Oh man. When you get your boys in the woods, watch them {bloom}. Sit back, smile and see the joy rise up out of their souls. I love that the first thing Ryan does when he gets in the woods is breathe down deep, the pine cone-y freshness that is {boy} and {joy} all rolled up together. Gage is starting to notice the smell of it all too.


Watch as they learn to skate on thin ice; a metaphorical taste of what is to come with {life}. Ironic how fun it is now.

We journeyed into the woods on this day, soul-searching. JD had just gotten home after working all night. All {3} were in the tub. I looked up at my weary husband and said, "Let's go sledding in the mountains today". You should have seen that night-shift blue shade fade from his face and bright lights take the place within him. Talk about the colors of a flame! He was packed, four wheelers and all, before I had the kids dried, dressed, and ready to go.

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I've been reading "Wild at Heart" and am realizing how important this man stuff is. These adventures. These woods.

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On this day, we were in search of a good time. A good {family} time in God's country.

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JD remembered seeing a "really cool bee hive" in the woods so we spent a good portion of him pulling the boys and I on two connected sleds through the woods, searching for the elusive hive. What can I say, I'm a sucker for a cool bee hive.

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We found it. Unfortunately someone else had as well, so we got to see what was left of it. JD was right - it would have been cool. Instead though, I found THEE perfect Christmas tree. I propped my camera up and even got a timed family picture. Ahhh, the fragrance of adventure. It's good stuff.

The boys 'harvested' the tree and we fashioned a system for getting it back to the trailer in one piece. It all worked out marvelously. What a {perfect} day.

Now, admittedly, this isn't the best picture of me but it tells the story.

See that tip trailer? Yeah, it spells disaster. As darkness was approaching and the McElroys were loading, adventure turned...sour. JD {accidentally} drove his four-wheeler through the back of our car. GASP. Pause for affect.

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More pausing. More affecting. More GASPS.

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Can you hear the echoing screams of "I told you that would happen...WHY didn't you listen to me?" That would be the role I played. I know. I'm not the supportive, compassionate wife I would like to be.

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It was a quiet ride home narrated by JD with one sentence, "If you had stood where you wanted, we would be driving to an ER right now and you'd probably look a lot like Ryan" (who has no front teeth at the moment). Nu-ugh. I probably would have lifted that four-wheeler like She-ruh and none of this would have happened. Phshaw.

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I end the story here for one reason. It's a line on my face like the song humming along to this story suggests. It's what makes us, us. It's the lesson {learned} because sweet friends, there's ALWAYS a lesson.

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I can choose to forget the scene with my babies in the tub.

I can forget the light in {12} eyes when their souls hear, "woods".

I can forget about the two sleds and one beehive in a pine tree.

I can forget all about skating on thin ice and the echos of laughter ringing through The Blues.

I can forget about our family's picture, everyone looking (finally).

I can forget about thee most perfect Christmas tree EVER and the joint effort it took to get it {home}.

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You see, I can forget all about that and remember the {dent}. (IF I choose to).

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This year, this year absent from blogging, I've spent remembering more dents than all the rest. It's easy to do because they are everywhere. But believe you me, the light in these eyes of mine is returning, looking up, watching, and waiting for the Lord to ignite. The dents are fading and the Lord's fire is refining.