Category: Family

Respect The 'All Done'

3/2/2016

We taught our children some basic sign language before they could even talk.

They easily learned to give us cues using their hands to communicate how they were feeling by the time they were 6 months old. We didn't teach them much, but the few signs we did teach them could be used to express a multitude of feelings. We taught them four basic signs: more, all done, please and thank you.

Often times my children would sign things that made perfect sense to me

When my first born, Lucia, was about 8 months old, she pulled herself up to the couch where I was sitting with a bowl of ice cream. She put her hand up to her chest and rubbed her chest to say "please".

From her signing "please" I knew she was asking me to give her some of my ice cream. When I didn't share with her right away, she began bending her knees with a little bounce that helped her get up on her tipee-toes, over and over and she then began rubbing her chest almost violently.

She didn't have to scream or cry to get her point across to me. She was able to use her sign language to let me know that she really ,really, really, wanted me to share my ice cream with her. She continued to sign "please" over and over until I finally put a little bite on the spoon and right into her mouth.

She immediately smiled, put her hand to her chin and singed "thank you" which was quickly followed by touching her fingertips from one hand to the other repetitively as she then asked for "more".

I had no problem sharing my ice cream with her. At 8 months old children watch and learn from what we do. They mimic us and want to do everything like us. It made sense to me that she wanted to eat my ice cream, and how could I blame her for asking for more. I too always want more ice cream!

Other times my kids would sign something I couldn't identify with and wasn't sure how to respond

We were visiting my dad on Key Biscayne. Although she was only 6 months old, it was not her first trip to the island. I introduced the ocean to her at just weeks old when we made our first trip to my dad's house. I wanted her to love the ocean as much as I did when I was a kid and I never wanted her to be a stranger to the water. So I took her often and frequent.

As I held my little girl we ventured out into the ocean further and further and the waves got a little higher and higher.

Each time a wave came I'd hold her up so they'd splash on her chest and back.

But as they splashed some of the salt water would get on her face and she'd squint her eyes shut and pucker her lips.

I'd laugh and giggle and kiss her. I'd wipe the water off her face and let her know it was okay. If I was calm, she'd be calm, right?

Wrong.

It didn't take long before she threw her hands up in the air and began to twist her wrists back and forth.

That is the sign in sign language for "all done".

I was not ready for her to be "all done". And as her mother I should know what's best for her right? She wasn't in any real danger and I wanted her to love the ocean and if I didn't force her to stay out in the ocean with me then I was letting her know it was okay to quit and I'm not a quitter and I don't want her to be a quitter either and I wanted to stay in the water with her and show her that the ocean was good and not something to dislike or be afraid of and maybe if I just got her away from the waves she'd stop signing "all done" and she'd be okay...

I wiped the salt water out of her eyes again, gave her more kisses and told her not to worry, the water didn't hurt and I tried to laugh it off and looked for a smile in return. But her smile never came, as a matter of fact, the more I tried to convince her that it was ok the stronger her wrist flips got and the more intense she tried to let me she was "all done".

I was left with no choice but to respect her desire to get out of the ocean.

We made it back to the shore where she sat and happily played in the sand. And even when she tried to eat the sand, she still seemed happy that she wasn't in the ocean at that moment.

We went back out into the ocean in strides and each time she would hit a point where she would put her hands in the air and flip her wrists and tell us that she was "all done."

Respect the all done

My husband and I jokingly began to use the phrase "respect the all done" everytime my daughter motioned she was ready to get out of water. We have continued to say this phrase hundreds of times over the last 6 years as parents to remind us to listen to our children when they communicate their needs to us, even when we don't understand them.

You see, as a new mother, this was a valuable lesson for me. A lesson that taught me to listen to my children even when their needs for themselves might differ from what I thought they needed.

A lesson that my children's needs are often times different from my own.

A lesson which taught me that my children will communicate to me what their personal needs are based on their personal strengths and weaknesses.

And as their mother my strengths and weaknesses may be different from theirs. A lesson that I need to respect their needs the best I can when they express them to me even when I don't understand.

Because it might be possible that when I listen to their needs and hear them and meet them the best I can I am teaching them that I respect them.

And it is possible that if I respect them I am building up their confidence. And if their confidence is built up, it is possible they will walk through this world full of respect for themselves and for those around them.

My daughter is now 6 year old and I'm still learning to respect her boundaries in order to gain her trust.

On a normal day when I pick my kids up from school, they throw their lunch boxes and backpacks at me in the front seat and they pile in the car. Just picture a clown car where 29 clowns pile into a VW bug, that's what we look like at the pick up line.

And before they are even in their car seats or buckled, all 4 of them, full of excitement from their day at school start to talk at the same time. And with as much speed and volume as an auction announcer they each tell me what fun things they did at school.

Earlier this week was no different from any other day. They all fought for air as they spoke at the same time...

And I yelled for silence.

And just like every other school day. I gave permission to one child at a time to talk and tell me about their day. And one at a time they spoke while everyone respectfully listened.

Olivia, my more sensitive child went first. Each day she likes to tell me how she made it through the school day without crying. She has a hard time speaking up and sharing how she feels with her teacher and peers, so I've been teaching her this year that her words are more powerful than her tears. She beamed with pride as she told me how she used her words at PE to tell her PE teacher she was upset she wasn't on her twin brother Lochman's team. Her teacher listened to her and placed her on the same team as her brother. And just as she was about to finish her story...

Lucia piped up and said...

"Well, I cried today at recess."

I think all of us in the car were a little surprised by that. She is the oldest child and the other children look up to her. She's a big first grader. Why would she cry at recess?

So I immediately replied, "What happened? Did you get hurt?

And for the first time in my parenting experience I heard these words and they rolled off her tongue as clear as day: "I don't want to tell you."

She no longer uses sign language like she did when she was 6 months old. Now at the age of 6 she speaks her words and her feelings with her voice.

But as I looked back in my review mirror waiting to hear the answer to my question if she got hurt, I made eye contact with her and listened as she spoke the same words again, "I don't want to tell you".

But even though I heard the words come out of her mouth, I envisioned a time before she could talk when she would throw her hands up in the air and rotate her wrists. "I'm all done".

I saw her, with her words, tell me she was all done.

And It took everything I had to respect that.

I asked a few more questions if her teacher or friends knew she was crying, did she go to the office, etc... She answered those questions with a little smile and seemed to be in good spirits, but stood firm on her "I don't want to tell you" why response.

We spent the next 10 minutes of the car ride home making up silly reasons as to why she might have cried at recess.

"A hawk scooped down out of a tree and landed on your head and its force knocked you over and you fell on a stick that got caught on your dress and when you got up your dress tore and you got embarrassed and hid behind a tree to cry."

She joined in the fun and made up silly reasons as to why she might have cried and we all laughed, but the facts and seriousness of the day was that my 6 year old wanted to let me know she cried at school but didn't want to give me any more information then that. She was "all done" sharing.

And as her mother, I had to respect that.

When she went to bed that night I told her I was sorry she had cried at school and I thanked her for sharing that with me. And I told her that I respected that she didn't want to tell me why. I told her some things are private and sometimes we need to process our feelings by ourselves before we share them. And of course I told her that if she ever needed to tell me why she cried that day or any day, I would always listen and as long as it is not harmful to anyone, I will always respect when she is done sharing.

I didn't tell her about the time when she was 6 months old and I respected that she was all done in the ocean. I didn't tell her that we got back in the water for longer periods of time each time before she'd throw up her hands and twist her wrists to say she was done again and we'd get back out.

Because the thing is that now at the age of 6, I can't keep her out of the water.

She spent last summer in the pool and the ocean, upset every time we had to get out of the water to go home. All winter long she has begged me to take her to the covered pools and asked when the neighborhood pool will open again.

She asks me daily if she is finally old enough to be on the swim team and dreams of a day that she can swim with the dolphins.

Her goal in life is to be a dolphin trainer.

It is my hope for my children that in the same way Lucia learned to trust the water by having her boundaries respected, that she and all my children will learn to trust me and others around them with their feelings as they have their personal boundaries respected.

Respect the all done.

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The Day Axel Was Evicted

2/2/2016

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Axel means "Father of Peace".

But "Peace" was the furthest thing I was feeling that day.

I remember the day, like it was yesterday. My husband came home from work with his usual, "how was your day?" question as he walked through the house tripping over puzzle pieces and blocks scattered across the floor, crunching old crackers under his feet as he navigated his way through the screams of 3 small toddlers excited to see their daddy while bouncing off the walls of our 1500 sq ft home.

In this particular "core" memory (for those of you who love Inside Out, I'm still trying to decide if it gets filed with Joy or Sadness) we were standing in the kitchen and I did not answer his question at all.

I just looked at him.

Blankly.

I went to reach into my back pocket, but before I could reach in and pull out the positive pregnancy test he GASPED!

"OH MY GOSH! YOU'RE PREGNANT!" He shouted. "I KNEW IT," he said!. And then he said something like, "I was just thinking four kids wouldn't be so bad."

What? Was he excited about this? Four kids wouldn't be so bad? What was he talking about? How in the world did he know I was pregnant? I didn't even know I was pregnant. I was in pure shock. This dumb little test had two extremely dark lines on it but I was convinced it was a mistake. The test must have been wacky!

Because this whole conversation was wacky! Why were we talking about this anyway?

It was just weeks ago we had celebrated our daughters 3rd birthday and our twins 1st birthday. How could he be excited about another one and how in the world did he already know about this?

I quickly began to think that he must have had something to do with this.

I threw the positive pregnancy test at him as he smiled from ear to ear. I wasn't sure I liked how happy he was about this. And when I accused him of having something to do with this his response was:

"I better have had!"

I should not have been embarrassed, but I was, as I wheeled my 3 itty-bitty's into the store to buy a pregnancy test earlier that day! At least my husbands response was so much better than the check out clerks response! She looked at my cart full of kids and looked at my purchase and asked me if I knew what caused babies.

And for the next 7 months I was in shock and maybe a bit of denial.

You see, I had just gotten down to a size 4! A size 4 people, after having twins! It was a huge accomplishment and back in my running shoes regularly and I was finally feeling that with the twins turning one I was ready to take care of myself again. I had cleaned out my closet of all things "maternity" and the thought of wearing another pair of maternity jeans made me want to gag!

I also had just given all of my baby stuff away in hopes that the twins would grow up faster than they should have.

You see, I loved being pregnant and I loved my babies more than life itself, but mentally I had just checked out of the "baby-stage". I had just finished nursing the twins and I mentally thought I was done. I had a 3 year old and two 1 year olds. How could I have another baby?

Not to mention we had just downsized our house. Two months prior we had moved into a smaller house to save money and here I was pregnant? I had 7 months to wrap my head around being a mom of 4 kids under the age of 4.

That's right, I said 7 months.

This was the shortest pregnancy ever for me.

Not because he was born early. As a matter of fact, he came late. It was the shortest pregnancy for me because when I finally realized I was pregnant this baby already measured larger than two months along.

I didn't really know when my due date was so when they gave me a due date of late January based on his size I took it and went with it.

My belly was just as large, if not larger than when I was pregnant with the twins less than two years prior. Someone seriously asked me if I was pregnant with triplets.

Is that even a question people ask? Bypass twins and "Hey, are you pregnant with triplets?"

Rude.

My doctor was losing patience with me too. He did not want me to go further than a week past my "made up due date". Especially with this baby measuring as big as he was.

But here is the thing...

I really wanted to "go into labor" with this baby on my own. Like I REALLY wanted to. I hadn't asked for this pregnancy, but since he was here and coming I wanted a chance to "go into labor" on my own that I didn't have with my other two births.

I was induced with Pitocin when my first daughter was born because my water had torn and was leaking before labor was even close to starting.

Then with the twins I scheduled to have my water broken so I could get labor moving along.

So I was determined to go into labor without being induced...

I spent days running up and down our basement stairs with toddlers in my arms for added weight. I bounced endlessly on our Exercise Ball with a toddler on each leg and one hanging on my back.

What is a Birth Ball?

It was February 2nd and while everyone was tuned into the TV to see if the groundhog saw his shadow and we'd have 6 more weeks of winter, I was only focused on one thing: trying to get this baby out of my womb.

My husband’s alarm when off that Saturday morning at 5:00am. He planned to wake up and go swimming early before the kids got up.

But I had other plans.

I wanted this baby out weeks ago. And while my husband casually joked with me that the “baby-getter-outter” was the same as the “baby-getter-inner”, it was no joke to me.

Not today anyway.

And while that "baby getter-in and baby getter-out" had not seemed to work yet I figured I’d try and try again until it did.

Needless to say he never made it to his swim class and my contractions started almost immediately.

Eventually we got up and took the kids to Costco to stock up on some food for the third week in a row. I'm not kidding when I say that I thought this baby was going to be born three weeks ago! So every week I'd go stock up on groceries and make freezer meals with the anticipation that he was going to be born and then I'd never get to the store again with a new baby and 3 toddlers in tow.

After Costco, we stopped at the bike shop like every mom of three about to burst out a fourth child should do.

The shop owner asked me if I was going to have the baby on his shop floor.

I was not alarmed by his question. In fact at this point I'd gotten completely used to every stranger I ran into asking me some personal or rude question about my pregnancy, my body, my baby, my family, or my business.

I had been asked that very question for the last 4 years. Since I've been pregnant for what felt like an eternity, but actually has only been 4 short years with 4 amazing children!

I knew I made people uncomfortable.

Especially men.

They saw how enormous my belly was. And it was huge. Unnatural looking really. And they couldn't help but stare as my enormous belly got thrown about while I chased three small toddlers. I'm sure all they thought as soon as I lifted one of my 30 lb kids up I might drop a baby out in front of them! And honestly, I wish I would've.

I eventually stopped paying attention to everyone around me unless spoken to.

But one afternoon when we took the kids to the Nature Center, I noticed a man staring at me and the kids. I said to my husband, "we need to get out of here that man is creeping me out. He keeps staring at me and the kids". My husband busted out laughing. He replied with, "have you looked at yourself lately? Everyone stares at you and the kids."

I loved being pregnant. But I was also tired of being pregnant. And I'm certain the world was tired of looking at me pregnant.

I smiled at the shop owner and said “Yes, It is possible considering his due date was last week. But he hasn't fallen out yet so I doubt he's coming now.”

He gave a little laugh and said, “Yeah, after having 3 you probably would know if he was coming.”

The truth is I did know he was coming. I was certain he was coming. I was hiding the intense contractions I was having all day from everyone and I hid the one I was having during my conversation with him.

We got home and put the kids down for their nap.

And as too I sat down to rest I felt my contractions slow down. I panicked.

It had been 2 days earlier that I had woken up with timed contractions minutes apart in the middle of the night and I knew he was coming. I walked around for hours timing then. I decided to lay down and I fell asleep only to wake up four hours later to absolutely not one contraction. I was in tears because they had stopped. I called my doula right away. She told me that was my body getting ready and it would be any day now.

Her exact words were, "Jenny, no one has been pregnant forever, Axel will come soon". And I found those words so comforting because moments before I was certain I was going to be pregnant forever.

There is this strange pressure from people everywhere when you are pregnant that your baby isn't being born fast enough. My doctor refused to let me go a week past my due date before inducing me. My nurse told me every time I walked in for a check up that I was huge and needed to consider inducing. Friends and family constantly asked when my due date was and when it passed it was like the pressure from them just felt really intense. And then it seemed like people I didn't even know were asking me why I was still pregnant.

"Waiting" for this baby to come on his own was beginning to lose it's appeal as the pressure from all the people around me made me doubt that he ever was going to be born on his own.

But I was determined to go into labor on my own with this one.

As the kids napped, I decided I better not let my contractions slow down. I called for Paul's help as he rarely says no to an opportunity and didn't say no to this one. He didn't exactly say yes either, but without agreeing, he agreed. I was serious about getting this baby out today.

It was now 2:00pm and my contractions were as intense as ever and they were now regular about every 15 minutes. Maybe the baby-getter-outter was actually working.

I was however, not ready to acknowledge them just yet nor tell anyone about them. After having timed contractions two nights earlier 3 minutes apart that never intensified and dissolved after four hours I was not about to jinx this.

I left the house just after 3:00 to pick up my mom from the airport. I had several contraction now that were getting closer together but again, deep down I was worried they were going to go away so I didn’t want to get anyone excited, including myself. I hid them and ignored them the best I could. When I saw my mom, I lightly joked that "today could be the day" and deep down I was hoping I was right.

I decided I’d run errands with my mom before heading home. I figured if I kept moving the contractions would keep coming. And it was easier to handle the contractions if I was busy doing other things rather than concentrating on the pain.

I saw a friend as we pulled into the parking lot of Target and we chatted through the car windows and right through a piercing contraction.

Later in Target a ran into my daughters friend and her dad. We chatted and I still wonder to this day if he noticed me squeezing the box of diapers in my hands as I was in the middle of a contraction during our conversation.

When my mom and I finally made it home, all the kids greeted her with pure joy and excitement. They love seeing their grandmother.

I began putting groceries away and started making dinner.

It was close to 5:30 and as I sat the kids down and began to serve their plates, I realized that I wasn't able to hide my contractions any longer. I grabbed hold of the counter with a hot pan of lasagna in my hand and began to moan only that moan a pregnant lady in labor can do.

My mom and my husband looked right at me and both said, "Are you ok?" And then very dumbfoundly said, "Are you having a...contraction?"

I think I finally was coming unraveled after an entire day of contractions.

"YES!" I shouted, "That was a contraction!!! I've been having them ALL DAY."

Because something happens when I go into labor. I get sarcastic and maybe a little passive aggressive. I was annoyed no one knew I was having full blown contractions, and yet, I had worked so hard to hide them from everyone all day, including myself.

The kids started to get so excited. My mom started to get so excited. And I was just glad it was out in the open now and I was ready to to get this over with.

I knew what to do and was I was ready to do it.

There was no way I could show my mom where everything was so she could hold down the fort while we headed to the hospital. My contractions were minutes apart and I was in noticeable pain and out of breath. I called our trusty babysitter Emily to come help my mom and then immediately called my doula, Wendy, to let her know this baby was coming.

My doula advised me to stay put and she was on her way to the house to help me time the contractions and labor with me until it was time to head to the hospital.

My contractions were so intense. They were moments, sometimes seconds apart. I felt like I needed to get to the hospital. Right away.

So Paul and I got in the car and I called my doula back and told her to meet me at the hospital instead of coming to the house.

I hung up the phone and with out warning I began to cry. Uncontrollably cry.

I cried because I was in so much pain.

I cried because I had been in so much pain all day and was holding it in.

I cried because I had been hiding it from everyone and I finally felt that I could release it.

I cried because I felt free to be in pain and for the first time that day I could show someone else I was in pain.

I cried because I finally let myself know it was OK to be in pain.

I cried because I knew in the next minutes or hours I was going to meet this baby.

I cried in excitement to hold this baby boy in my arms.

I cried because I will never understand the miracle of life.

I cried because I was overwhelmed with the thought of a beautiful baby.

I cried the entire 5 minute drive to the hospital.

Paul foolishly tried to pull the car up to the labor and delivery roundabout at the hospital to drop me off. I gave him that look like you've got to know me better than that. The tears were gone and now I meant business.

I made him drive out to the furthest parking spot he could find so I could walk and carry my own bags figuring the walk would help push the baby down more and keep things moving along. I wanted to walk into the hospital, get checked in, have the nurse look and say, "wow, you're a 10 and he's coming right now!"

But that of course did not happen.

I got checked in and my Doula arrived within minutes with her exercise ball in hand just like the previous two times she was with me for my births. She had her hair ties and headbands and her soothing voice and she right away summoned a nurse to bring me a cup full of crushed ice.

She reminded me to stay focused, she moaned in low tones along side me reminding me keep my moaning tones low, and she immediately began to rub the wrinkles out of my forehead telling me to relax and let my body do the work.

This was not our first rodeo together. Wendy was my Doula when Lucia was born and when the twins were born.

I give all the credit to her and my doctor and some really amazing nurses for why I was able to have Lucia and the twins natural, unmedicated, vaginal and without an epidural. And I while I was really hoping to accomplish the same thing with baby number 4, I also knew in my heart as long as we all came out on the other end alive and healthy nothing else really mattered.

So without any introductions we both got to work.

I was beyond thrilled when D'Neil walked into my room. I wanted to kiss him. He was my nurse when Lucia was born and he was fabulous. I couldn't have planned it better for him to be working that night and to be assigned to me.

But then they gave me the discouraging news that my doctor was not on duty that weekend and a different doctor would be filing in for him. My doctor had delivered Lucia and the twins. He knew me and how I labored. He knew my birth plan and I didn't want someone I had never met before delivering my baby.

I wanted to cry.

My doula assured me that she knew the doctor on duty and I had nothing to worry about. I was relieved, but noticeably disappointed. I began to scheme a way that I could get D'Neil and my Doula to deliver the baby before some unknown doctor I had never met showed up to take over.

But just as I began to morn the loss of my doctor not being there a nurse with an angel's halo ring glowing around her head came in and with what sounded to me like an angelic singing voice said sang these words: "they were able to get a hold of your doctor on the phone and even though he is not on duty this weekend he will be here to deliver your baby."

A sigh of relief came over me.

I was now ready...well...until I felt disappointed yet again...

You see, I really thought being ready meant I was going to be 8-10 cm dilated when I arrived. After all I had been having these intense contractions all day and now they were seconds apart.

Nurse D'Neil delivered the disappointing news that I was barely 5 cm and that I'd likely be there for a while.

But here are the facts:

I checked into the hospital at 6:30pm...

and...

Axel was born at 8:53pm.

When I got the news I was barely 5 cm dilated I knew I had some work to do and I prepared to do whatever had to be done.

So here is what happened in the next two and a half hours.

I squatted.

I yelled.

I pushed.

I walked.

I laid down.

I cried.

I squatted more.

I walked more.

I pushed more, I yelled more, I creid more.

And I took a lot of deep breaths in between.

I listened to my husband and my doula remind me over and over and over to focus and keep calm and get my composure together; keep my moaning tones low, let my body do all the work, and did I mention keep calm?

I told my nurse D'Neil that I was ready to be checked again because I was certain I had progressed.

He looked disappointed as he told me I was only about 8 cm. I felt disappointed too.

But he had a plan. He said, "I might be able to stretch you to a 9 during your next contraction." He shrugged his shoulders and said it in a tone like he knew I would never agree to that.

And well, he looked shocked when I shouted with more enthusiasm than anything to "please, please, please, stretch me to a 9 because I want this baby out."

My next contraction did not bring me to a 9.

It brought me to a 10.

Which also brought great panic in the laboring room.

The nursing staff frantically tried to get my doctor on the phone.

It looked like D'Neil was going to be delivering this baby after all.

The doctor on call wasn't even at the hospital, so they brought in an assistant for D'Neil and everyone began prepping the room for delivery.

A nurse came in and said that my Doctor was on the phone. He was out for an evening jog and as soon as he could get to his car he'd be there. His orders were for me not to push until he got there.

I hate it when he says that.

He told me that when Lucia was coming and when Lochman almost fell out of me.

"Whatever you do, don't push until we are ready"

Dumbest words ever.

And honestly, at this point I didn't care if he was there or not. I didn't care who the assistant was or if some new doctor came in to deliver this baby. I didn't care if D'Neil delivered my baby or if the baby just fell out and someone caught him.

I just knew I wanted this baby out. Because he was coming out no matter who was there to deliver him and there was nothing I could do about that or anyone else.

D'Neil got the stirrups out and kept reminding me not to push while putting my legs up.
Which left me no choice but to inform him in my most sarcastic laboring voice ever that if someone put pepper up his nose and told him not to sneeze I'd like to see what happens..

But in all honesty, I did try to wait. I tried not to push and I began to think about how I had been laboring this whole time and it had not occurred to me until now that my water had not broken. I began to imagine this baby being born completely encased in his amniotic sac. It is very rare, but does happen and is supposed to be a sign of good luck or something.

And just as these images of my baby being born in his amniotic sac began to fade from my imagination I yelled at D'Neil that I a contraction was coming and I had to push.

D'Neil got on his baby-delivering-gloves (that looked like normal blue gloves), and sat down right in front of the baby's crowning head.

And right at that moment my doctor swung open the door and walked in the room wearing his running attire. Yes, his running attire. A nurse opened up a hard shelled case where these oddly superhero-looking-gloves came out of and she put them on him one finger at a time. They were skin tight and as I watched them go on one-finger-at-a-time I began to imagine they had superhero baby birthing powers and the distraction of it all caused my contraction to pause.

I couldn't think of anything witty to say about his yellow-skin-tight-superhero-gloves so instead I told him that I thought it was nice of him to show up.

Just as in my previous two birthing experiences with him he swung the door open just as the baby was crowning and everyone was telling me not to push. So I said something dumb to him about changing his name to Dr. Nick because he always arrived just in the "nick" of time. I told you I get sarcastic (and a little dumb) when I'm in labor.

He laughed, sat down where D'Neil had gotten up from and told me I was now allowed to push whenever I felt the next contraction coming.

I felt it.

I pushed.

And with that one push I felt a massive explosion.

My water broke. It went everywhere. Well, my eyes were shut tight and so I didn't exactly see where it went, but I envisioned someone shaking up a soda can rapidly and then popping it open and I was pretty sure that is what had just occurred. I believe there was amniotic fluid on the ceiling. I squinted my eyes open just enough to see my doctor wiping his cheek.

He laughed and without mentioning the massive explosion he said, "great job, Jenny, the babies head is out! Now I need you to push again to get his shoulders out."

Was he serious? In my previous birthing experiences, I pushed once and when the babies head was out the rest of the baby just slid out...what was he talking about I needed to push again to get the babies shoulders out. He must be crazy.

But sure enough I could see Axel's head resting in the palms of my doctor's superhero yellow gloves.

So I pushed again.

And again, my doctor said, "Great job Jenny! You got one shoulder out. Now I need you to push again so we can get this babies other shoulder out."

You've got to be kidding! What in the world was happening? Was this baby ever going to come out? I really began to think they were going to have to stuff him back inside and then I was going to be the first person to ever be pregnant forever. He was going to be the groundhog baby who saw his shadow and went back inside for another 6 weeks.

I was almost mad at the baby. But per my doctor's orders, I pushed for a third time. And that is when my doctor guided my hands down under the babies shoulders and let me pull the rest of him out. My doctor let me do this with Lucia also. What an amazing feeling.

Photo Credit to my Doula Wendy Robertson

And in that split second I was so completely overjoyed. It is a feeling that is completely indescribable. I brought my baby up to my chest and kissed him over and over and over and over.

He was perfect. Axel was perfect.

I looked at this baby covered in blue and red and swollen in the face from being born so quickly and I thought to myself is it really possible to love him so much. And I was overwhelmed knowing this love I felt was just a hint of how much God loves us.

Photo Credit to Wendy Robertson

I delivered Axel's placenta without much thought or warning because my attention was all on my beautiful baby in my arms. My doctor worked the blood in the umbilical cord toward the baby before directing Paul where to cut it. And while my doctor checked to make sure I didn't need any stitches, I thanked him, made a few more jokes about his name and then spent the next two hours holding Axel and feeding him before anyone took him for his vitals. Those first few hours of his life with the exception of his first weigh in were mine and Paul's alone.

When they did his "quick" weigh in before I fed him, it wasn't as quick as I wanted.

He was 9lbs and 4 oz. They weighed him twice to be sure, then checked the scale and weighed him a third time. He apparently didn't look like a 9 lb baby so everyone was confused...that was until they measured him. He was 22" long.

The baby nurses said they couldn't remember the last time they had a 22" baby born there. Lots of 21" babies and a few that made it close to 21.5" but never a 22" baby that they could remember.

Paul asked our babysitter to stay a little longer so he could bring my mom over to meet Axel. Axel was only minutes old when my mom got to see him. Of course I made her wait a few hours to hold him since I wanted him all to myself.

He was finally here.

My “Father of Peace”.

My Axel Andrew.

The kids came the next morning and spent hours with us.

Axel was fortunate to have a good birth story. But it is so important to remember that all birth stories are amazing. No matter if the baby was planned or a surprise or unwanted, lost or adopted. The miracle of life is amazing. Whether delivered by emergency, surprise or exactly as you wanted, it is all incredibly amazing.

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DIARRHEA, ALGEA, REFLUX AND BLUEBERRIES

1/12/2016

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*This post was originally written July 24, 2011
It was copied over from an old blog I had written.

We had a great typical enjoyable Saturday...until we got home...diarrhea, algae, reflux and blueberries...oh what a night.

The day started normal. My husband got up at 5:30 to meet a guy for a 60 mile bike ride. All the while, I was awake with babies and watched the sun come up, as I do most mornings now. The coffee pot can't make the coffee fast enough and I usually chug down the first cup burning hot and then sip the remaining cups as I cuddle my children. At 7:00 my 2 year old woke and at 8:00 the twins. All four of us; me, her and the twins, cuddled on the couch, which means everyone is sitting on me, and we watched as many Dora episodes as humanly possible before one gags, or until my 2 year old turns into Dora herself (is that possible?)

Then an hour later it was time to put the two bambino's down for their nap. At which point, I got dressed to go to the YMCA, got my toddler ready and packed everyone's diaper bags. My husband got home and we waited for the babies to wake up so we could leave. I had asked my husband if he would go to the Y with me and show me the workouts he used to do with a friend of his when we lived in Nashville. Both of them got in great shape following a simple regime and well, since I recently gave birth to twins, I will do just about anything to try to get in shape myself right now even if I have to ask my husband for help. If you know me I hate asking anyone for help, especially my husband! I feel like it has been years since I've really been able to work out. I got pregnant in 2006 and miscarried, I stopped working out after that since I felt I brought the miscarriage on from running 50 miles a week. I got pregnant again in 2008 and gave birth in 2009, breastfed for 9 months and while I started running again then, it became increasingly hard to find the time. I was working full time and so when I wasn't working I didn't want to stick my child in daycare so I could work out because I had that mommy guilt of not being with her enough. I mostly ran with her in the jogger. And right when I felt I was getting back in shape...I ended up pregnant again and so the cycle continues...

I never ask my husband to teach or show me anything, so this shocked him. He is my husband, not my coach, not my instructor, not my teacher and not my mentor. When he tries to "show" me something we end up in a fight. We actually call our canoe the "divorce boat" because we are stuck in it together and I always do it my way, which is the wrong way according to him and then we end up in a fight. The best thing we can do for our marriage is tip the thing over and swim. But that's a lesson for another time. You can read more about our marriage arguments here.

Yes, he was shocked, but agreed to "show" me his workout. He reminded me that the only time I've listened to him was when I was giving birth to our first child naturally and the pain was getting out of control and I was about to lose it. He grabbed my face and said, "get it together, now". Suddenly that was all it took for me to calm down and in fact, I did get it together. He said that might just be the only time I didn't try to argue with him and tell him I was right and he was wrong, so he'd be happy to show me his workout, but added that he wasn't sure why because he knew I wouldn't listen to him anyway.

The babies woke up and off to the YMCA we went. I can't believe we were able to work out a full 45 minutes without the nursery workers coming to get one of us. Every time I leave the babies in the nursery at the Y, which has been most week days for the past 3 weeks, they have to come and get me because someone is crying and they can't get them to stop. It really puts a damper on working out. I may or may not have hidden from the nursery workers before when I see them walking into the fitness room looking around. I may or may not have bent down to tie my shoe behind a large piece of exercise equipment. It may look like I am tying my shoe, but I am just trying to duck as she walks by looking for me. The other mothers in the fitness room can rest assured she's not coming for them because they always come for me. And I am happy to report that when they can't find me, they usually resolve the issue on their own. I've gone to pick up my kids and they mentioned to me that one of them was crying, but when they couldn't find me they rocked him or her and eventually all was okay.

So it amazed me that this trip was a success. No babies cried, I learned a new work out routine and everyone was hungry so we headed to chick fil a, so we could eat and our 2 year old daughter could play. Then we were ready to go home and take a nap. That too was a success. As everyone napped, including my husband. I on the other hand used nap time to prepared our grocery list and organized our coupon book. Everyone woke up and off we headed, all 5 of us to the grocery store. Our trip to the store is a story for another time too because that in itself is full of lots of rights and wrongs. A trip with a two year old, four month old twins and a husband and wife juggling food and babies is a sight to see.

We took 15 minutes after the grocery store to go to the bookstore to let my little girl play with the trains as this is one of her favorite things to do and off we went to head home. It was now 7pm and time for everyone to eat quick, get a bath and go to bed.

Oh, if only that went as smoothly as the rest of the day. Here is where the Diarrhea, Algae, Reflux and Blueberries all begin!

We came home and before we could even walk into the house we could smell the stench of diarrhea! Where was it? Where did it come from? It covered the whole house. We knew it was there but hadn't found it, until we walked into my daughters room and covered on her beautiful floral pink rug was a very large pile of doggy diarrhea.

It didn't stop there, it trailed off her beautiful floral pink run onto the carpet. It appeared we had a sick dog and a big mess to clean up. I put the babies down and went to unload groceries, which my husband had already beat me to it. So I decided I'd feed the babies and then clean the poop. They didn't want to eat and I couldn't stand the smell. I got the gloves and started to clean. I dragged the rug outside and sprayed down her carpet, scrubbed and vacuumed. The mister had put all the groceries away and started to cook dinner, babies seemed happy enough and everything seemed fine so I headed outside to clean the rug. I got the hose and scrubbed it with cleaner and used the hose as a pressure washer.

As I was outside I noticed my daughters kiddie pool was filled with green water because it had been sitting out there for days unused and algae was growing covering the entire bottom of the plastic blow up pool. So I thought, while I have the hose out I'll clean this out too. I started picking up the toys in the yard, dumped the water out and came inside for the bleach. I noticed my husband was still cooking dinner and now he was holding one of the twins while he did it. My two year old looked happy as she ate some turkey and cheese and fruit and the other twin seemed content, so I headed back outside with the bleach for the kiddie pool and said, "I'll be just another minute." I sprayed the pool out, poured the bleach in and realized I needed a sponge. I had already finished cleaning the rug and it was hanging to dry. I came in for the sponge and noticed that the mister was still cooking dinner, but this time he was carrying two babies who didn't look so happy and my toddler was sitting at the table complaining about her food. I was just about to say, "I'll be just another minute", when I got that look from my husband that said, "if you go back out that door, I will..." not sure what came after that but the look was bad so what followed would've been bad too.

I decided not to finish what I was doing. I took one baby, offered to take both, but he just gave me one. Went outside to turn the hose off, and came back in. Dinner was on the table. Oops. I don't think anyone was happy. All my husband said was "I'm not you and you're are not me". I took this to mean that he can't cook a meal while watching three babies and I can't clean dog poop as well as him without getting distracted. I was really hoping he didn't now I was doing 10 other things outside, but guess he did. So we sat and ate dinner.

And this is where the blueberry comes in. As we sat and ate dinner, my 2 year old swallowed a blueberry whole. And yes, it got stuck. We panicked, I almost dropped a baby as I stood up to figure out what to do. And in just a few moments it felt like an eternity had passed. She stuck her own hands down her throat and coughed up a whole blueberry.

The poop, the algae, the roll-reversal, the crying babies, the gym, the bookstore, nothing, nothing mattered at that moment. We were all scared.

At this time my stress level had risen. No one would know it, not even me because when I am stressed I appear extra calm. I went to feed the babies to put them to bed and forgot to give my son his reflux medicine until after I fed him. This doesn't happen much, but when it does it's a bad beginning to the night. He can't settle, he cries more and longer and can't get comfortable. Not only were we up all night with sad babies, hungry babies, but also with a dog who was constantly pacing and whimpering to go outside. If we had a fenced yard he would've stayed outside, but each time we had to get up and take him out, get up and feed a baby, get up and rock a baby.

But you know what, I'd do it all again. I was just happy by little girl didn't choke on a blueberry.

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TO SPANK OR NOT TO SPANK!

12/10/2015

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* This post was written May 14, 2011*

To spank or not to spank, that is the question. Well, not really a question for me. I always assumed I would spank. I got spanked as kid, my husband, bless his soul got beat. We will not be beating our children, but spanking when deserved is a fair punishment, of course, with a conversation to follow as to why you got spanked.

Because right now the twins are newborns and my 2 year old is really just a good child. Time out has been enough of a punishment to get her to obey. It seemed to be working just fine...until recently when she told me she knew she wasn't supposed to do something and wanted me to put her in time out.

And when your kid is asking to go into time out maybe it is time for a new punishment!

But really, I had not given it much thought. I still put her in time out even though she sat there with a smile on her face and when I told her she could get off the chair or that she could stop starring at the wall, she would decide she wanted to stay in time out longer.

How could I complain with that tactic? She really could stay there as long as she wanted because it gave this momma a little longer of a break!

The thing is I've lately been trying to make an extra effort to spend time with my 2 year old. I want to play hands on with her while the babies are sleeping or keeping each other entertained.

Since the babies have been born she spends a lot of time sitting on the couch with me watching me feed babies, burp babies, change babies diapers and rock babies. She behaves well and usually nurses her babies next to me, keeps herself entertained with toys or my phone or she ends up helping me with the babies, like fetching a burp cloth, holding a bottle up or something that is about them and not her.

So in my extra efforts to try and do activities with her, focused around her, that are hands on, I thought it would be fun to make Easter cards for the grandparents.

We got out the paint and the paper and went to town. She giggled and laughed and it was great...it was great until she was done.

When a child is done, specifically a two year old it is easy to tell. Her concentration was completely lost from painting on the paper and had moved to painting her hands and her face. This is my grand old sign that she was now finished with our intentional hands on activity. She was now done and bored with my project.

So I let her get down while I finished cutting out some bunnies from her paintings.

I was very focused on what I was doing and understand, I had an agenda! I was trying to get this hands-on-intentional-project finished up before the babies woke up from their nap. Because once they were awake they would once again take all my attention and leave my two year old to entertain herself.

Each time I looked up from the task that I was doing she was pulling on the blinds to the window and shaking. She was thrilled with the loud noise they made each time the wood blind hit the windows. She was listening and fascinated.

But I was annoyed and immediately asked her to stop rattling the blinds. Didn't she know? She was going to wake up the babies with that noise and then this special time I had set aside to spend with her hands on was going to end sooner than we both wanted!

As she looked at me with those two year old eyes that said "yeah, what are you going to do if I rattle these blinds again? Put me in time out? hahahahaha", and with that look, she did it again.
And very calmly I tried to explain to her that I was going to finish cutting out the bunnies she painted for her grandparents and how this was our special time together and begged her ever so calmly to reason with me and not rattle the blinds again.
And I got the same look again. "whatcha gonna do about it" and again it happened, the blinds got rattled.
But they weren't the only thing that got rattled. Without even thinking I jumped up, grabbed her arm away from the blinds and smacked her right on the butt.
And I looked at her with those mommy eyes that say, "yeah take that!"

Oh no! Her poor little face looked right at me and got all crinkled up and tears started to come streaming down her face but no noises came out of her and it was TERRIBLE! Then... it came, that long soft little cry came oozing out straight from her little passionate and soft heart. OHHHH it was terrible. I had never ever smacked her on the bottom before. She didn't even see if coming.

She didn't even see it coming and honestly, neither did I! It is the first time I spanked my child and I did it as a total reaction without giving it any thought. OHHHH the guilt poured right over me.

I scooped her little shocked body up into my arms and sat her down in my lap on the rocking chair. She faced me and I looked at her dead in the eyes and said,

"I am so sorry I smacked your bottom without warning you, but you were not listening to me and I got angry. I should've warned you first that I was going to spank you and for that I am sorry. However, it does not get you off the hook, you owe me an apology as well for not listening to me after I gave you several warnings."

I hugged her sobbing little body until she calmed down enough to say "I sorry momma".

And while I really had not given a lot of thought to spanking or not I guess I am now a "spanker". I'm that mom who is going to spank. I've opened the door after a year of motherhood to a world of spanking. I hadn't planned it or given it a lot of thought.

But we are entering the terrible two's and the jealousy of twins is certainly a distraction from her good behavior I will have to be aware of.

I will have to learn my rookie mistakes of spanking out of emotion and reaction rather than being in control of myself and my child. It won't belong before I have two two year olds and a three year old.

Going forward time-outs will of course be our go-to punishment, but I am relieved in some strange way to have a new form of discipline that can be used when needed.

SPANK!

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Love Picks Up Where the Money Ends

12/10/2015

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(** I wrote this original Blog post on another blog I had back in June of 2011. I'm reposting it here and updating the number of kids we have as it is still applicable! Please bare with me as I transfer several old blogs over)

On occasion when we lay down for bed after a long tiring day, as exhausted as we are, we engage in a little pillow talk. Our pillow talk always involves some level of teasing each other about one thing or another. It was like that 11 years ago when we first married and you guessed it, t's still like that.

And all I did was ask for a goodnight kiss...and the teasing started.

I was told I must be guilty of something due to the tone in my voice and my request for a kiss was denied with the notion that there would be "no guilt kissing" going on that evening.

I knew what my husband was talking about. That feeling you have when you've done something you shouldn't have and you seek for affection from your spouse in hopes that they will overlook what you've done! Yep, I know that feeling.

But in this case, I really couldn't think of anything I was guilty of. So I made him expand.

Well, he couldn't think of anything I was guilty of either . But of course he had to come up with something and he had to think quick!

His response was that I was guilty of being "too expensive".

Well, there you go. I had to agree on this one. He is right. I am too expensive. So I let him know that I was 100% guilty of that and so he should probably just fire me and let me go.

And well, after thinking about it for a few minutes he decided I would cost him more money and I'd be more expensive if he let me know.

Of course he was just kidding! But he has a valid point.

It is not just me anymore. I come along with 4 kids. And I cost a lot when it's me and four little kids!

I was much less expensive when we both worked and both brought home a salary and we had not kids to spend our money on. It was just us and we had TWO incomes!

Those honestly were some good years!

And I cannot lie. I am so grateful we have those years to fall back on when the going gets tough. Because let me tell you, it is hard sometimes. Well, I'm sure you know it. If you have a family and are down to one income and have added dependents. The way you were once used to living is gone and no more. It is hard to be responsible for little mouths to feed and bodies to clothe. College funds to save for, sports, extracurricular activities', and oh goodness, if you take them to a the theater to watch a play it'll cost you! Or just going to the movies! Not to mention school costs, a house big enough to fit these little people, a car big enough and all those dang car seats! ...and really, it is endless.

Even if you are a two income family, just adding the stress of these other little people to the outcome of that income is no joke.

I'm certain you are also guilty of being "too expensive"! All of you! Just like me!

It may be a long, long, long time from now before we can spend any money on oureslves again. And maybe that day may never come. So I thank God that we have that time to fall back on when things get stressful. We have those fun memories of going out to eat without a care in the world. Heading to the mall to buy a pair of shoes not because we needed them but because we wanted them. We had money to buy nice furniture for our swanky Nashville condo and a new grill! I'm telling you those were good years.

Some nights we lay in bed and have our little pillow talk and it's just us reminiscing about how we used to be before we had kids. Those were good days.

But our kids are awesome and we would never trade our kids to go back there.

It's just a good thing we have enough love in our house every day to pick up where the money ends.

And I'll tell you something. That love is so much richer than any of the money we ever had or ever will have.

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ALL BEFORE NOON!

12/5/2015

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This little gem of a facebook post popped up in my Timehop today from two years ago. Axel was 10 months old, the twins were 2 and Lucia was 4. And all the words I spoke and posted came out of my mouth before noon that day, November 5, 2013, and probably many days since then!

You need to share! Don't touch him! Don't touch her! Say you're sorry! Go sit down! Turn off the TV! Keep your hands to yourself! Get out of the road! Look for cars! Hold my hand! That's hot! That's sharp! Don't touch that! That's not yours! Go to your room! Don't get out of your bed again! Come here! Get off him! Stop that! Share that! Give that to me! Who broke that! Get out of there! Put your clothes back on! Eat it! Don't eat that! Stop that! Who did that! Don't shut doors! Keep that door shut! Get out of the garbage! Get out of my closet! Get out of my drawers! Don't sit next to him! Move over! Stop screaming! Don't yell at me! Be nice! Give her a hug! Don't do that again! Get up! Get down! Close the fridge! Who poured that on the floor! Close the cabinet! That's not yours! Put that back! Pick that up! Pick up your shoes! Put that away! Give that back! Come here! I love you...each and every one of you!

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Happy Thanksgiving (Toddler STYLE)

11/26/2015

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Making food memories and "thankful" memories, because let's face it, sometimes other memories with children on Thanksgiving are just not worth keeping.

(These are real conversations from today from our real and crazy family. The children's names in this post have been purposefully left out to protect them from being harassed by those of you who might know them.)

2:00am
Mom, I don't feel... (insert vomit and more vomit...)
Okay, try to keep your aim into my hands until we get to the toilet.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

4:30am
repeat of 2:00am
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

8:30am
Stop talking! You are waking me up! (insert crying and tears from a healthy child)
Baby, it's okay to get up and come down stairs now. Everyone else is awake.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

8:45am
He's sitting in my chair!! I want my chair!! That's not fair!
You sat there yesterday, it is his turn today.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

9:00am
I don't want yucky toast and grapes for breakfast! It's gross. I told you I just want chocolate.
You need to eat what I give you or else you won't eat anything the rest of the day.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

9:45am
I don't want apple juice! I want milk!
Sweetheart, you just asked me to get you apple juice so that's why I gave it to you. Please don't yell at me.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

10:00am
I don't like this parade. It's too long. When is it going to be over? I want to watch cartoons.
It's the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. Just watch it. The Ninja Turtle float is about to come on and look at all the ballerina's dancing! .
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

10:30am
Eww! Mom!! I just saw him put his buggers on the couch!
OK, give him this wet towel and tell him to clean them off right now.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

11:00am
What's that yucky smell? Yuck. Everyone hold your nose. It stinks in here.
That's Thanksgiving Dinner is cooking.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

11:45
Mom! I got poop on my hands!
OK, don't move, and don't touch anything! I'll be right there.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

12:00pm
I don't want to play outside. Can't we just come inside to play?
No, you all need to stay outside until dinner is ready. It's so pretty out. It's going to snow soon and you'll be stuck inside for months.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

12:30pm
Grandma Helen, I mean Tori, can I be all done eating?
That is your Nonna. Her name is Nonna. And she is not in charge of how much you eat. You have to finish eating your lunch and then I will dismiss you from the table.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

1:30pm
I'm STARVING!!
You just ate lunch an hour ago and you had a snack 10 minutes ago. You are not hungry. Go outside and play.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

1:00pm
Mommy, I want you to hold me.
I can't hold you while I'm cooking baby, just sit here on the counter and don't touch the knives.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

2:00pm
I don't want to wear this! It has buttons. I want to wear my Halloween costume.
I want you to look nice for Thanksgiving dinner. Please put on what I want you to wear just for today.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

2:30pm
He broke my tower and hurt my feelings!
Come here. Show me where your feelings are so I can kiss them and make it better.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

3:00PM
He hurt my feelings again!
Work it out and go outside and play!!! We are eating in one hour and I don't want to see you until then. You need to play with each other nicely.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING

4:30
I told you not to give me chicken! yuck!
It's ham. You like ham. And your daddy is getting you ranch dressing to dip it in.

Why is this macaroni white? I want the orange kind.                                                                   It's just made with special cheeses and you'll like it if you just try it.

Mommy, I like this, I just want the pretzels out of the jello and separated from the cream.
Baby, I can't take it apart. Just eat it the way it is.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

4:45
*I am thankful for my family and my friends but mostly my family. And for batman and for legos. I am thankful for thanksgiving and for loving people and for helping people too. I am thankful for my lego table, but I want it to be a train table again. I am thankful for Nonna and Grandma Helen and Papa Claude and Papi and Tori and for Aunt Cathy and all of my cousins. And I am thankful for orphans because they can all come to live with us.

*I am thankful for my mom and dad and my room. I am thankful for love. I am thankful for loving people. I am thankful for giving people stuff and for having a twin. I am thankful for my family, for my toys and for my school and my car and my house and for love. I am mostly thankful for love and loving people and having a loving family.

*I am thankful for my family and farts and burps too (insert laughter from all the kids here). I am thankful for Nonna and the movie Inside Out. I am thankful for all my family and cousins and my grandparents. I am thankful for my mommy. I am thankful for my family being together and for everyone that helps each other and gives to people.

*I am thankful for Curious George and all the bulldozers in the whole world and for my mom and dad and for my turtle, Lucky.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

I couldn't be more thankful for my family.
All of my family.
The vomit and the poop and the tears and the whining.
Much of it, I'd like to forget but it doesn't mean I'm not thankful for it all.
I am extremely thankful for the sweetness, the tenderness, the humor and the love that my family is full of.
I am thankful that we serve an awesome God and in his likeness we serve each other.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING FROM OUR CRAZY FAMILY TO YOURS.

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Marriage Made of Steel: The Secret to a Happy Marriage

11/10/2015

It's our 11th Wedding Anniversary this month. So the title to this post is fitting because on the 11th year of marriage you are supposed to gift your spouse something of steel.

After 11 years together I'm feeling like our marriage is now made of steel. Not all steel, of course there are lots of other things that make up our marriage. But it has formed and woven together all these years making it strong and sturdy just like steel. So if the proposed 11 year gift is "steel" then we've already got it! (Although, I can think of a few new shiny stainless steel appliances I'd love to have too!)

How we got here: A powerful secret to a happy marriage

As I reflect back on the last 11 years I've stumbled across something and realized it is what has made our marriage work all these years. It has made our marriage stronger all these years.

It is something everyone does but often times are told not to do. More than not it is done incorrectly and can end up ruining a marriage.

It's an essential part of being human but often we refuse to participate in this activity because we don't like it or we are too scared of the outcome or we don't learn how to progress along with it.

But this act is the key to why my husband and I are still married 11 years later.

So what is it you ask? Is it...

Faith in God, surely this is the most important, right?
Lot's of "stripping and priming" (wink wink), yes, that's a big part of it too.
Laughter, is of course a given. You have to have laughter!
Being able to laugh at yourself, also a very important ingredient to a good marriage.
Forgiveness, yes, yes, very important.
Faithfulness, gentleness and self control, we could just add the rest of the Fruits of Spirits here to complete our list.

All the components above are great ways to attain a happy marriage. But something is missing from that list. An act that encompass' everything on the list, but isn't on the list itself. Something that has driven our marriage into incredible depths over the years. Depths in our faith, our intimacy, our laughter and forgiveness, all due to this one thing.

The Real Secret Behind A Happy Marriage is...

Arguing.
Yes. Arguing.
ARGUING!!!

Straight from Webster himself:

To Argue: verb ar·gue \ˈär-(ˌ)gyü\
intransitive verb 1: to give reasons for or against something : reason <argue for a new policy>
2: to contend or disagree in words : dispute <argue about money> transitive verb 1: to give evidence of : indicate argue his innocence> 2: to consider the pros and cons of : discuss <argue an issue> 3: to prove or try to prove by giving reasons : maintain argue his case> 4: to persuade by giving reasons : induce argue her out of going>

A-R-G-U-I-N-G

This is why we have been married 11 years and we still like each other and we still cherish each other and we still respect each other and protect each other. It is because we are willing to argue with each other.

Arguing isn't always about the destination of winning the argument, although often it can be, but it's also about the journey of discussing and maintaining our thoughts and opinions even when they differ from each other. It is a form of communication and when done properly can bring two people very close.

Now, don't hear me wrong. We haven't always been very good at it. There is a difference between arguing and quarreling and you can read more about this difference at the Alpha Dictionary if you are interested. Frankly, we haven't always been on the right side of that difference.

However, we've both been willing to learn. We've gotten better at arguing with each year that has passed. We've become more gentle, more constructive; more attentive. And as with all things you need lots of practice to get good at something. And trust me, we are still practicing.

But here's the thing, no one tells you
how important arguing is.

Certainly no one told me that the secret to a good marriage was to argue with your spouse. Our pastor who did marriage counseling with us before our wedding did give us marriage-saving advise. He advised us to never use the "D" word if we argued.

We took his advice which surely has saved us some headaches. Visit Simple Marriage or Hodges Podges and see for yourself the benefits of not using the "D" word.

But we were still clueless.

Before I got married I saw my newly wed friends arguing with their spouses and I thought they were doomed. Then I got married and argued with my spouse and thought we were doomed and we were just newlyweds ourselves.

We were clueless.

Even the Bible says you shouldn't argue. Philippians 2:14, simply put "Do everything without grumbling or arguing".

And I couldn't really recall ever seeing my parents or respected adults in my life argue.

But arguing is inevitable. It is going to happen in every marriage. So we embraced it. We had to learn to let each argument teach us how to argue more effectively the next time.

Over time we saw some arguments lead to productivity and sometimes we saw our arguments bear fruit.

If you remember even Moses (Exodus 32:9-14) and Abraham (Genesis 18:16-32) argued with God and God listened.

Here's some of what we've learned along the way to mastering this skill.

1. We had to learn what not-to-do when arguing

If I look back at the things we argued about in our first year of marriage, I see how trivial they were. Seriously, we got into an argument because I heard my husband tell someone that I slept later than him in the mornings and he had to make his own breakfast every morning.

The shock and horror that went through me when I heard this. Because I knew certainly, for sure, I woke up, on occasion, some mornings, maybe just the weekends, earlier than my husband and made him breakfast. And after hearing him say that I never made him breakfast infuriated me. I'm pretty sure I threatened to actually never make him breakfast for the rest of his married life and if he got married to have breakfast made for him each morning then he married the wrong girl!!! (Woo-wee! Glad I got that off my chest...again!)

But for real! This was one of our first married arguments. And it may or may not have involved a broken plate of eggs on the floor.

It was in that first year of marriage that I realized that I slammed doors! Not only did I slam doors, but I opened doors just so I could slam them! I didn't even know I did this until I got married because quite honestly no one had ever made me that mad before.

And I threw things! I remember my husband making me so mad that I looked down at the coffee table to see a cup of burning hot coffee and a remote control and knowing I was going to reach down, pick one of them up and throw it. Which one do you think I chose?

Well, after I envisioned my rug stained in coffee and all the glass I'd have to vacuum up I chose the remote control. However, I had failed to foresee the dent mark it would leave where it hit the wall and I failed to foresee my husbands reaction.

He looked at me and said, "great you just broke my favorite thing in the whole world.".

True story.

Honestly, it felt so good to throw things and slam doors, but I was admittedly ashamed, especially when it took me hours to to put the remote control back together so my husband could have his "favorite thing" back.

I learned that year that throwing things and slamming doors when arguing was not okay. It only elevated things and was not constructive.

My husband learned that year too. If you can just picture me, the non-Hardison-by-birth, standing quietly in the middle of the room while my husband, the Hardison-by-birth circled around me, squawking and squealing and puffing out his feathers and cockatooing and being loud and obnoxious and leaving no room for me to say a single word because my voice couldn't be heard over all the noise and chaos.

Fortunately for me sometimes he would squeal and squawk and cocatoo all over the house. And on one beautiful, sunny afternoon, I slipped out the front door and took the dogs for a walk while I listened to him squawking all through the neighborhood. When it finally got quiet, I went home and found him sulking on the couch. "Where did you go?"

And my husband learned that year he couldn't cockatoo at me anymore. It wasn't constructive and only elevated things.

We had to learn that some of the arguing we had witnessed and learned in our pasts was not good, nor healthy nor constructive for us and we had to learn what not to do.

2. We had to learn that sometimes
arguments needed to be gentle

The years passed by and we continued to argue.. And sometimes there were arguments even in happy times.

We got pregnant and we argued about who we should tell and when we should tell people. Somehow our neighbors found out we were pregnant before some of our family members. We had different philosophies on telling people what and when and how and it created arguments that taught us about each other.

Then there were the painful arguments about losing a pregnancy. One of us only knew how to morn privately and one of us only knew how to morn surrounded by friends and family. So we argued gently with each other in our sadness.

Then the possibility of facing infertility and more arguments came. Would we ever get pregnant? Should we do treatment if we can't get pregnant? Should we adopt if we can't get pregnant? We argued our different opinions with love and support and we saw something in ourselves we had not seen without the help from each other. We argued deep.

We lost friends and family members who went on from this world and we had no choice but to be gentle in our arguments about funerals and continuing to love the living in a new way and precious memories.

3. We had to learn to argue with respect
for each other

I can remember as clear as day when I first heard the words everyone who is married should hear at least once from their spouse, "It doesn't matter if I don't understand it or I think it is crazy. If it is important to you, then I will respect it because I love you."

I had asked my husband not to participate in something because of my own insecurities. I'm not even sure why other than it just made me uncomfortable and that's all I knew to tell him. With just a little hesitation, he finally said the words I needed to hear: if it was important to me that is all that mattered.

And just like that, my husband respected me in an argument letting me know I was more important to him than whatever it was that he didn't understand.

It took me a little longer to learn this same lesson when arguing. He would get upset about something I didn't understand so I would decide it wasn't worth the argument to me.

And I'd use those arguments as a free ticket to stay up all night, eat ice cream in bed and watch Sex In The City reruns while my husband lay awake discontent in the other room.

However, it was that sense of security that I felt when he was willing to not participate in something because of my insecurities, even when he didn't understand, that finally taught me to respect the issues that bothered him even when I didn't understand.

Now I just wait for him to go out of town so I can stay up all night. I've just traded the eat ice cream in bed for a few glass of wine in bed and instead of Sex In the City reruns I'm addicted to HGTV!

4. We've had to learn to let go and trust the other person when arguing

Eventually we had children.

And once our children were born we began to argue about child rearing. Our parenting styles were different. One was often too soft and one was often too firm.

I had to remind myself (and still do) that my husband is 50% of the parental role in this family. If I claim to have all 100% stake as parent then I would not be trusting the plan God put in place. Our children need their daddy even if I disagree with him at times.

My husband had asked one of our children to pick up some toys before going to bed one night and they refused to obey.

I told the same child they could go to bed and pick the toys up in the morning because it was painfully obvious to me they were just too tired to obey.

My husband demanded the toys be picked up that night and gave me a stern warning with that look stupid look in his eye, not to help.

That child sat next to the toys without moving a bone for hours. I didn't like it but I trusted my husband to do what he needed to do as their father.

The toys eventually got all picked up. And then I witnessed something beautiful. My husband curled up with his child in his arms who had obeyed him. And they bonded. They fell asleep in each others arms that night, both drained, but stronger as an entity.

But there are times we don't get it right.

There was that one time my husband argued that I wasn't sleep training one of our children to his standards. And so I let him do it and was shocked when I heard the child stop crying for a long period of time. I peeked in the room only to find him sitting as still as a statue scared his breath would wake the sleeping child while he sat INSIDE the crib with the sleeping child on his lap. There was nothing for me to do except laugh hysterically. He justified that his method worked and he got the baby to sleep, never mind that he was INSIDE the crib with her. After that night he trusted me to do the sleep training my way and I'm proud to report that I've never climbed inside my child's crib.

There are arguments about discipline and sleep training; homework, soccer and baseball, ballet and dance, television and computer time, appropriate movies, video games, room arrangement, food, vacations and the list goes on and on. And we have to trust each other to parent our children together.

5. We had to learn to argue with our guard down

It was just the other day as a matter of fact that we had an argument while getting ready for bed. It was this specific argument that made me realize all the arguing we've done over the past 11 years has actually been the key to deepening our marriage.

We were in the bathroom, both completely naked. (Yes, I'm sorry to give you such a visual because trust me, it's not pretty these days.) But it is how we were when this argument occurred.

In our complete nudity, my husband was getting out of the shower and I was stepping in it. We were unwinding and cleaning up from the grind and busyness of a long day's work. And in the midst of our nudity we began arguing about one of our investments that was causing a headache for us.

Should we cash it in and invest it in something else with less of a headache or do we continue to deal with the headache and uncertainty and risk for an unpromised future? We were on completely different sides of the issue and both upset that the other didn't agree.

It dawned on me in this moment of arguing, in the nude, so cordially, on a topic we both were passionate about, that we had come a long long way since that first argument over breakfast that ended in a broken dish and dirty eggs on the floor.

But you see, that first argument was so incredibly necessary to get us to where we are today. And we are only 11 years in with a LONG way to go.

We argue about faith and God, sex, money, children, time management, what to eat for dinner, and all the other important ingredients that make a good marriage good. We are two different people, from different backgrounds and different families and we are married to each other, living in the same house, sleeping in the same bed. We are one and yet, we are two.

We love each other enough to be willing to argue about our differences so that we can ultimately understand each other better and deeper. And I pray we always can and will.

So Raise Your Glasses

So raise your glasses with us as we celebrate 11 years of marriage. And next time you catch yourself saying to your spouse, "It's not worth the argument",

Stop and think...

Do you really not want to argue? Is your relationship not worth it? Can you not only learn something about your spouse from the argument but maybe something about yourself? Can the argument deepen your understanding of each other?

Or if you hear yourself tell your children, "Please stop arguing with me!" like I always do,

Stop and think...

Do you want your children to have their own voice and know that their opinions and feelings matter even when they are different from yours?

The "Code Of Conduct" from my kids school states that they are encouraged to "Appeal respectfully and courteously". The children know that they have a voice even when it differs from their teachers.

Isn't this what we want for them at home? Isn't this what we want for our marriages?

So raise your glasses with me and cheers to a new year and a new argument.

Happy Anniversary Babe. I love you forever and while I don't necessarily look forward to our next argument, I know it will be soon. I look forward to it being with you and the outcome from it. Let's bear some more fruit (and I don't mean children!) You're my bestie.

Are You "The Candy Keeper?" : What To Do With All That Candy!!!

11/3/2015

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Did your children dress up as Goblins and Ghosts, Princesses and Superheroes and come home with loads of candy?

Have you been deemed "The Candy Keeper" and you are the only one that holds the key (or can reach on top of the fridge) to the beloved candy bowl?

Are you now dealing with whining children begging you for a piece of candy every single minute of every single hour?

Then continue reading to get tips on what to do with all that candy and how to handle your new roll as "The Candy Keeper"!

I have given you three options that our family has tried over the years. The first option is fun and generous. The second option is my favorite. And the third option has its place and time!

Option 1: Donate or Trade

You can donate your candy to the troops overseas. Check out the Military Missions for packaging and mailing instructions. Operation Shoebox is another great resource.

To read more about how to donate your candy yourself please read here.
Operation Gratitude tells it all!

If you do not want to package and mail the candy yourself then check with your local health food store or dentist office. Many healthfood stores and dentist will trade your candy for a healthy treat or toy and they will mail it off for you to be donated!

We participated at Earth Fare a few years ago! My kids got a healthy treat as a trade off for their candy.

Donating the candy or trading it makes for a great lesson on "giving" and "sharing" with the upcoming holiday season! Not to mention once the candy is gone you will no longer need to be "The Candy Keeper"!

2. Separate and Dissipate (my personal favorite)

There are a few steps for Separating and Dissipating. If you follow the instructions below you will find when your candy is separated it begins to disappear much quicker and your job as "The Candy Keeper" will be over in no time.

Step One: Determine the trash

Remove all the candy you don't want your children eating and throw it away.

For me, this is typically anything too sticky that will end up on my furniture, tables, chairs and walls...or worse stuck in their teeth. Things like taffy. I also throw away the hard candy such as jolly ranchers and jaw breakers. Basically anything that can get lodged in the throat of a 2 year old. I include the "bubble gum" in my throw away pile as well. My kids LOVE gum, but this extra sugary bubble gum serves no purpose for me.

WARNING: You might feel a sense of guilt throwing it away.
Push through. You do not need to feel guilty.
If you have a compost pile in your back yard then these items will make great compost!

Step Two: Get your school snacks

Take anything that is in a decent sized package and store it away for lunch boxes and school snacks as the weeks go on. This includes packages of cookies, animal crackers, fruit snacks and anything else you deem snack appropriate.

Store it in your pantry up high and only take one out at a time when you are preparing lunches.

This will also cut your grocery bill down by a few dollars for those few weeks of snacks you will not have to buy!

As a matter of fact my kids all took a pack of Oreos for their school snack today and they were thrilled because they usually do not get Oreos for snack!

Step Three: Get your bribe and keep it close

Weed through the candy and put all the lollipops and place in a separate pile.

I like to keep them in my purse and car so they'll be easy to reach when I get desperate and need to bribe a child to be quiet or stop crying.

I've been known to pull a sucker out of my purse at church and stick it in a kids mouth and I'm not ashamed!

Lollipops have always been my go-to bribe with my kids, so sorry candy bowl, these are all mine.

Step Four: Turn sweet into sweet and salty

This is my favorite step because I love trail mix. This is where I win at Halloween time!

Empty out the contents of all M&M packages into a zip lock bag (and I like adding the milk duds too).

Be certain to throw all packaging away...at the very bottom of the garbage so your children do not see the empty wrappers!

Then combine said items with any nuts and raisins that you may already have in your pantry. My personal favorite is cashews, almonds, pistachio's, craisins and raisins!

We love a good trail mix in our household and this will give you a healthy-ish snack for weeks to come!

Step Five: Turn the Orange into Green

Find all the chocolate that does not have a "Halloween" logo on it. Place this new found chocolate stash in a zip lock bag and hide it all the way in the back of the freezer.

As all the orange from Halloween starts to all fade away and all the Green begins to appear for Christmas this frozen chocolate will stay hidden in the back of the freezer.

Do not take it out again until Christmas Eve.
The night before Christmas you simply divide it up among all the kids Christmas stockings. Walla! No midnight run for candy. (Not that that I have ever actually forgotten candy for the stockings before and had to run out at midnight!)

The orange Reese's wrappers will be extra green bills in your wallet when you're not having to buy MORE candy at Christmas time.

Step 6: Let them have the rest

Now whatever is left over they can have. You can decide how they have it. You can either continue reading and follow Option #3 below, which we have done and works well.

Or you can ration the remaining candy out. I like to allow them to pick two pieces of candy after each meal until it is gone. If they eat their entire breakfast, they get two pieces. Same goes for lunch and dinner.

With this formula: 2 pieces per child times four children times 3 meals a day means that we will eliminate 24 pieces of candy a day until it is gone. If my estimate is correct that we have about 100 pieces of candy left at this point then I will only need to be "The Candy Keeper" for 4 1/2 more days.

3. Just say "YES"

I'm sure you will judge me for this method of dealing with Halloween Candy and that is okay.

Judge away.

I tend to use this method when we receive birthday party goody bags, or with Easter basket candy and other similar times throughout the year when the children come home with an exaggerated amount of candy.

I tell them to get all their candy, dump it out and eat as much of it as they want. I give them a time limit based on how much candy their is. I would estimate that 10 minutes is a good standard time limit.

When the time is up, the remaining amount that they cannot eat will get thrown away afterwards. However in my experience there really isn't that much left worth saving anyway. It's all trash after they've opened each piece and licked it all.

The reason I use this method and I actually really like this method is because they are so focused on getting through all the candy they tend to take one bite of each thing or even just a lick and then they move on to the next piece. They don't even eat it.

And this method is great because I don't have to spend the next several days or weeks as "The Candy Keeper". I hate that title anyway. I have enough jobs as a mom I don't need to add "The Candy keeper" to my resume. And I tell my kids "no" enough without having to always say "no" to the candy.

So with this method, you just say "yes". And you only have to say "yes" once and your job as "The Candy Keeper" is over!

WARNING: You will find a little backlash with this method. You will have children or at least one child who will come to you the next day and ask for a piece of their candy. You will simply have to remind them that they ate it all the day before and it is gone.

You may get a "That's not fair" or "I didn't finish it" or "You shouldn't have let me do that". But it will be short lived and they will move on to other activities...eventually.

You will also have the child who gets a tummy ache and begins to feel sick. This too shall pass quickly. If you're lucky they will stop liking candy all together after eating so much at once and your job as "The Candy Keeper" may be over not just for this year but for all the years to come...if you're lucky. I have not experienced that yet by using this method.

Now Your Turn
Leave me a comment and let me know if you have tired any of these methods to release yourself of "The Candy Keeper". How did it work? I'd love to hear of other ideas too that I haven't' thought of yet. Please share...

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Playing can be Hard

10/21/2015

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Moms of one only child, I commend you! While it is undoubtably hard work being the mother of four young children I can only imagine the work that goes into having just one child! I'm not at all kidding or trying to be facetious!

I had only one child once...and while it was for less than two years....I do remember it being hard then. Of course I was juggling working full time and being a new mommy, but it was hard. It was like having two full time jobs because this little 6 lb bundle sucked the like out of me, needed me constantly and as demanding and selfish as she was all I wanted was to be around her. I enjoyed my breaks from her when I was working but I felt the mommy guilt that I wasn't giving her enough of my time. So much guilt.

And now on Wednesdays I again have just one child. My youngest is home alone with me from 8am until we pick the big kids up from school at 3:30...and while he is so easy when it's just him alone in some ways, he is still so much work! Almost more work than when all four kids are home because he's got no one there but me.

"Play with me mommy!" He says all day long. "Read to me mommy" he says all day long. "Hold me mommy" he says all day long.

And so we play. Me and my little buddy. And I do what is almost the hardest thing for me to do...I put laundry aside, kitchen duty aside, chores aside, I put myself aside and I play. And sometimes I remember how much joy their is in playing with your own children. It's a lot of work. But it's a lot of fun if you make the effort. You have to be intentional about it or else you'll never know. You have to do the hard work and put yourself aside.

Having more than one child I just tell them constantly to "go play together" or "I'm busy, you need to go play with your brothers and sisters".

They don't need me to play with them, they only need me to care for them...but that's a lie!

Who knew playing was so hard? But as a mother it is! Setting aside your own to-do list. Setting aside your wants and needs to spend uninterrupted time with your child can be hard!

Moms, let's unite and make playing less hard. Let's strip off the stigmas that moms can't be silly and play with our child...or two...or three...or four of them...and let's take time to play.

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The Bumpkin Patch

10/20/2015

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It seems fitting that one of my first blog posts on this site should include some actual stripping. And stripping is required to do this fun craft with your kids! No one wants to see an adult "Bumpkin Patch" so please leave adults out of this one and only use your itty bitty bottoms in your house!

First what you will need:

1. A rectangular canvas. Size is really a personal preference. I used a 10x20 that I picked up at Hobby Lobby and used their 40% off coupon that you can always find online!
2. Paint. I used 3 colors, gold and yellow mixed for my background color and orange for my "bumpkins"
3. Paint brush. You'll want a good size brush because you will literally be painting your child's bottom.
4. Some kind of marker. A black sharpie will work fine if that's all you have laying around. I had a green pen marker I used after it dries for the stems and a brown pen marker I used, again, after it dries to outline the "bumpkins" with.

Directions:

Step One: paint the entire canvas with your background color. I choose yellow because it represents fall but is still light enough that the orange bumpkins will show up on top. Purple and grey seem like great colors for the background just be sure they are light enough to allow the Orange to show up on top. I also added a spark of yellow/gold glitter paint mixed in just to add some bling and dimension to the background. Be sure to paint the edges and as you can see I didn't use a plate to mix colors I just simply squirted them on the canvas and used the paintbrush to smooth it out. Don't worry about streak marks or blemishes. It'll dry with dimension and get covered up by some cute bumpkins!

Step 2: let it sit and dry

Step 3: here is where we start "stripping"! Find your little ones and tell them you are going to paint their bottoms orange and use their little bottom just like a stamp on top of your canvas! WARNING! The paintbrush on their bottoms will make them giggle and giggle and giggle! I did this activity 2 years ago when my oldest was 4 years old (possibly the cut-off age to get away with this craft!) At first she wanted nothing to do with it, but after she saw me paint and "stamp" the other three littles bottoms and all the giggling she wanted her bottom painted and stamped too! So get ready to laugh! I suggest doing one child at a time and be sure to overlap the Bumpkins so it resembles a real pumpkin patch. I actually did the two bums on the outside first. Then I did the smallest one in the middle and left room for my oldest daughter in the middle as well. They all overlapped nicely.

Step 4: Use your paintbrush to "fill in" any bottom spots that didn't get printed when you stamped the bottom. My oldest son didn't sit all the way down and while most of the outline of his bottom was on the canvas, it appeared that he had a huge crack down the middle of his bum, which was only due to him not sitting all the way down. I was afraid he'd squish his bum around smearing the orange paint which is why he didn't sit down fully. So I took the paintbrush and lightly filled in the spots his bottom didn't.

Step 5: Let it dry.

Step 6: Use your pens/markers to outline and write title.
Once all the orange bumpkins have tried it is time to get out your pens or markers and outline the bumpkins. I outlined the one on the end and the little one in the middle first so that it would look like they were in the front. I outlined them completely and whole. Then I outlined the two left just on the top sides and bottom that would be exposed if they were behind the other too. I drew my stems and colored them in giving them a few curly twigs coming out from the stem. If you aren't sure you will do a good job go ahead and do it in pencil first so you can erase it if you don't like it. But I'm the kinda gal that just likes to wing it and deal with it. After outlining the bumpkins and drawing your stems it is time to title your artwork! I just used our last name "The _______________ Pumpkin Patch" But you could really get fun and creative with the title.

Step 7: Put your "Bumpkin Patch" on display! Happy Fall You'll!

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Stripped and Primed Carousel DesignBlog

We taught our children some basic sign language before they could even talk.

Often times my children would sign things that made perfect sense to me

Other times my kids would sign something I couldn't identify with and wasn't sure how to respond

Respect the all done

My daughter is now 6 year old and I'm still learning to respect her boundaries in order to gain her trust.

And for the first time in my parenting experience I heard these words and they rolled off her tongue as clear as day: "I don't want to tell you."

Respect the all done.

Axel means "Father of Peace".

And for the next 7 months I was in shock and maybe a bit of denial.

It was February 2nd and while everyone was tuned into the TV to see if the groundhog saw his shadow and we'd have 6 more weeks of winter, I was only focused on one thing: trying to get this baby out of my womb.

My contractions were so intense. They were moments, sometimes seconds apart. I felt like I needed to get to the hospital. Right away.

But here are the facts:

So here is what happened in the next two and a half hours.

I hate it when he says that.

I felt it.

Making food memories and "thankful" memories, because let's face it, sometimes other memories with children on Thanksgiving are just not worth keeping.

How we got here: A powerful secret to a happy marriage

So what is it you ask? Is it...

The Real Secret Behind A Happy Marriage is...

A-R-G-U-I-N-G

But here's the thing, no one tells youhow important arguing is.

1. We had to learn what not-to-do when arguing

2. We had to learn that sometimes arguments needed to be gentle

3. We had to learn to argue with respectfor each other

4. We've had to learn to let go and trust the other person when arguing

5. We had to learn to argue with our guard down

So Raise Your Glasses

Happy Anniversary Babe. I love you forever and while I don't necessarily look forward to our next argument, I know it will be soon. I look forward to it being with you and the outcome from it. Let's bear some more fruit (and I don't mean children!) You're my bestie.

Did your children dress up as Goblins and Ghosts, Princesses and Superheroes and come home with loads of candy?

Option 1: Donate or Trade

2. Separate and Dissipate (my personal favorite)

Step One: Determine the trash

Step Two: Get your school snacks

Step Three: Get your bribe and keep it close

Step Four: Turn sweet into sweet and salty

Step Five: Turn the Orange into Green

Step 6: Let them have the rest

3. Just say "YES"

Now Your TurnLeave me a comment and let me know if you have tired any of these methods to release yourself of "The Candy Keeper". How did it work? I'd love to hear of other ideas too that I haven't' thought of yet. Please share...

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But here's the thing, no one tells you
how important arguing is.

2. We had to learn that sometimes
arguments needed to be gentle

3. We had to learn to argue with respect
for each other

Now Your Turn
Leave me a comment and let me know if you have tired any of these methods to release yourself of "The Candy Keeper". How did it work? I'd love to hear of other ideas too that I haven't' thought of yet. Please share...