How To Train Your Puppy

It's been awhile since I had a puppy. I had forgotten how puppy-ish puppies are. But it's all coming back to me now, so I thought I'd share some helpful tips.

A puppy is a great addition to your life at any time. It works best, though, if you get a puppy when you have 3 kids under the age of 5. That way, you'll have something to do and someone else to take care of when you have all that extra time on your hands.

You don't really need to go spend an afternoon standing in the dog food aisle, searching for the perfect puppy chow and treats. Puppies are amazingly self-sufficient when it comes to meal times, and they prefer filling up on things like rocks, sticks, pieces of plastic, chicken feathers, sandbox toys, dirt, poop, dead leaves, flower blossoms, green beans out of the garden, the plants the green beans were growing on, and any other unidentifiable objects within reach.

Your puppy will need exercise, so I recommend the following: Get a leash, and put the puppy at one end and a 2-yr-old at the other. Both will nap very nicely afterwards.

Speaking of naps, be sure to get your puppy one of those sweet, soft little puffy doggy beds. She'll get at least 3 meals from all the stuffing she rips out of there.

You'll need a good set of knee pads and some wrist braces. Not for the dog, but for you to wear anytime you walk anywhere with the dog. Because apparently, the best place for a puppy to walk is WHERE YOU ARE STEPPING RIGHT AT THAT MOMENT.

I used to think puppies barked and howled because they missed their mommy and their litter-mates. But puppies bark when they see you, when they don't see you, at things that move, at things that don't move, at rocks, at flies, at cats, because it's dark, because they're stuck in a clump of grass, at little girls who are riding tricycles, at birds, because they have toys, because they don't have toys, and in general because they're happy to be dogs and be livin' in America (as Phil Robertson says).

Ah, but at the end of the day, nobody will love you like that little puppy.

Just Like Me

I've always found it fascinating that, when you have kids, there are actually people running around in the world that are half you. Isn't that bizarre? I mean, half of these little humans' DNA is mine. They are like me. Their daddy apparently has pretty dominant DNA, because for the longest time, what I saw when I looked at them were mostly his features. But it seems like more and more as they get a little older, I see glimpses of things: Brooklyn's forehead, Vivian's nose, the way their mouths curve when they smile . . . and these things look familiar because they're things I've seen when I look in the mirror. It's a special, amazing thing . . . . they're like me.

But there are also more and more moments lately, when I'm watching them play with their friends or listening to them talk and I have this little flash of panic. OH. MY. WORD. These kids are going to BE LIKE ME. In my mind I suddenly see all of the mistakes I've made, all of my flaws, all of the awkward stages, all of the times I've made bad decisions, all of the things that have hurt me . . . And I kind of wish that they wouldn't be like me at all.

But the fact is, they probably will be a lot like me, and their dad. Not just because of our genetics, but because they're going to be watching us every day for the rest of our lives. Wow. Nothing like that little thought for a wake-up call. Am I the sort of person I would want them to be? The kind of wife, mother, friend, nurse, teacher, or neighbor that I'd be proud to see them be someday?

Most days I feel like the answer to that is no. I'm tired, and busy, and stressed, and I had a bunch of flaws to start with. But I'm trying to make up my mind every day to be a better role model . . .to be a little bit better version of me than I was yesterday. And, you know, they ARE going to make mistakes . . . probably some of the same ones I have, plus some brand new ones of their own. They're going to make bad decisions, and have awkward stages, and get hurt. But all I can hope is that when those things come, we've given them a good enough foundation that they'll know how to handle it. And hopefully they'll take these lessons from life and do the best they can and try to learn and grow. Just like me.

My (Non) Running Partner

Lately, one of my methods of unwinding at the end of the day, involves my new running shoes. My husband's idea of unwinding, involves his favorite recliner and a stack of newspapers, and farm publications, and flyers advertising new tractors and the next Hay Expo (yes, there really is a HAY EXPO) So, it works out. When he comes in to unwind, I go out to unwind. Since I couldn't go running without him here to watch our darling offspring, I guess in a strange sort of way that makes him my running partner.

Tonight, I set a personal record. I ran 2 miles, and I RAN the whole way, without stopping to walk! I came back after it was dark, and came into the living room. He was in his chair, and the girls, who had napped today so were allowed to stay up a bit later, were sitting in the middle of the living room floor looking at books and chatting with each other.

Me: "Guess what?" I just RAN 2 MILES WITHOUT STOPPING!"
Him: "What were you running from out there? Did you see a mouse?"
Me: "Whatever. You're just jealous of my skills. They're being good, so I'm going to take a quick shower before I put them to bed. OR you could put them to bed."
Him: "Geesh. Why don't you just go to a movie? Or go get ice-cream? Or go to Vegas and get married?"

(if you've been around us much, you know this is normal communication for us)

At this point, a cute grinning 4-yr-old (who has apparently been eaves-dropping) pipes up from across the room and says, "Noooo, Daddy! Mommy has to get married wif YOU!!!"

Guess I'm keeping my non-running partner ;)

The Most Important Job

Sometimes I feel kind of insignificant. I talk to an old friend, or hear news about a family member, or log onto facebook, or watch TV, and there it is: Somebody is excited that they just got their doctorate degree. Somebody else is asking for prayer for their mission trip to another continent. Somebody is moving up the ladder with their exciting career. Somebody started their own business. Some movie star is a huge celebrity with a brilliant career AND has a family!

And me? Well, I'm just here. Hangin' out. You know, "JUST" a mom. I "clean" (move piles from here to there), make food that mostly ends up on my dining room floor which I then have to mop, continue this endless cycle of unloading and then reloading the dishwasher (it hasn't been empty since we installed it), "do" about 87 loads of laundry every day (and when I turn the lights out in the laundry room I pretend not to notice all the ones still in the dryer and in piles that never got folded), I spend a total of 2 1/2 hours each day changing diapers and a total of 4 hours each day picking up toys . . . . . blah, blah, blah. And nobody cares.

I mean, if I were to be leaving tomorrow to be a surgical nurse on board one of the Mercy ships headed for an African port, people would love to hear about it and would be all excited for me. Or if I just landed a job as a CEO of some major company, you better believe I'd have that news spread to everyone I know. But who really wants to hear, "Pray for me! Today I'm going to try (for the 945th time) to teach a tiny human at the most volatile stage of its development (age 2), to pee and poop in the potty, and not in a diaper which I have to clean." Or, "Woohoo! Today my toddler put her peas in her mouth instead of her nose! Progress!" Or, "Today, I did the most miraculous thing! I took 3 kids under the age of 4 to the doctor's office, and we all made it back to the van without someone getting run over or lost or putting their mouth on something gross or laying on the floor and having a meltdown. It was a good day."

See what I mean? Somehow, it's gotten lodged into my brain that those things all sound pretty ridiculous next to the really great things that other people seem to be doing. I've noticed this especially since I quit my job 2 months ago to be a full-time stay-at-home-mom. Before that, when someone asked, I could still say, "Oh, I'm a registered nurse." Even though I was barely working the last year or so, that was still my identity. Now when someone asks, I have to admit I sometimes have this little nagging feeling of embarrassment or inadequacy when I have to say, "Yeah, I just stay home with the kids now...." And sometimes I've felt like I don't really know what my identity is anymore.

But here's what it is. There are 3 relatively new humans in the world. The were given to me. They look like me, and sometimes they act like me. I do NOT want to discount fatherhood --- their Daddy is awesome, and works so hard to provide a good life for us, and he's a great parent. But because he's earning our living, I'm the one who is here to do most of the parenting. . . . . And if you really think about it, there isn't a job or a title on this planet that's more serious or important. These 3 little people will learn all basic human knowledge from ME. I'm the one who will teach them how to be kind, and how to love, and how to be patient and forgiving. It's I, who will be their example when it comes to eating healthy, or dressing decent, or having a proper body image. From me, they'll learn how to keep their stuff clean and take care of it, and how to have fun and enjoy life. I'm the one who will show them how to respect others, and stand up for themselves, and stick to what they believe in.

Sometimes, there will be these awesome special teaching moments. But do you know when I'm teaching them most of those things I just mentioned?? When I'm cleaning or doing laundry without complaining. Or putting aside my work to help someone who really needs it. Or taking care of myself even though I feel like there's no one around to really see or care how I dress or look every day. Or being cheerful and kind to them, even when I've lost all patience.

I've always loved the old story about the man walking the beach and tossing stranded starfish back into the ocean. And the skeptical passer-by who asks him how it can matter and what he hopes to prove, when there are THOUSANDS of stranded starfish. And the guy looks at the starfish in his hand and says, "It matters to this one." What I do every day may not matter to anyone else in the world, but to 3 small people, it matters very, very much.

So every day lately, I've been trying to think, "What can I do today to show these little people that I love them, and to teach them about how to live life?" Because that's my job. And it's the most important one in the world.

The Little Things

I've been in some sort of "mood" the last few days. One of those periods of time when someone asks you, "What's wrong?" and your answer is "EVERYTHING". My kids have been tired and recuperating from a busy weekend. The microscopic amount of patience I started out with, evaporated quickly. I keep spilling stuff and breaking things. I washed a rug with some white socks, and dyed all the socks a very ugly shade of brown.
But we brought home something today that has improved my mood a little. I'm tellin' ya, you can't sit and watch these little things for very long and still have your tail in a knot. Just watching the girls excitement, and watching my 5 month old son sit and watch them with his baby-face grin, was enough to cheer me up :)
They're bantams. Which I haven't been able to have since I left home 10 years ago. My mom and sister bought/built me this fancy little chicken coop for my birthday (ah, how well they know me), and the kids and I are going to have all sorts of fun :)

Wedding Cakes and Keepsakes

Well, I finished my first solo wedding cake (without the assistance of my mom, a.k.a. cake decorating instructor). I actually had a lot of fun doing it, and was quite proud, especially considering all 3 of my darling offspring were here the whole time, and their father was not. The worst thing that happened was Vivian coloring her entire left arm with a black dry erase marker. And my living room looks like Toys R Us threw up in there. We had the occasional meltdown, but none of them were mine, so it was all good. Here's some pictures.

The only sad thing was, I had to leave right before they cut it. My kids did pretty well through pictures, ceremony, and most of the reception, and then we reached THE END of that good behavior. (It's only after you become a parent, that you realize weddings are seemingly always held during naptime) Vivian was literally falling asleep standing up next to Daddy's chair, so we came home. But I bet that cake tasted pretty good, and I'm hoping there are some leftovers around at the in-laws tomorrow :)

Yesterday I went upstairs and was rummaging through my big wooden trunk. Tony made it for me right before we got engaged, and it's full of all of our stuff from our wedding. Some decorations, my shoes, our guest book, leftover wedding programs, half-burned candles..... I was searching for a cake knife and server . . . you know those ones with the fancy handles? Looking through that trunk brought back memories of our wedding, nearly 7 years ago now! But I started wondering . . why do people keep things ... like cake servers? What sort of sentiment, exactly, is attached to that? I got an image of myself about 12 years from now, sorting through that trunk with my kids and showing them the stuff that's in there. "And, THIS little beauty, is the KNIFE AND SERVER that we used for our WEDDING CAKE!!! TOTALLY WILD, right??" And I could almost see their blank looks.

But a cake server is probably a little less insane than some of the other things I've kept as keepsakes over the years. For example, I have stored away in the bottom of that trunk, a very dented, beat-up Pepsi can. One time when Tony was visiting me in Indiana, we went canoeing at a state park not far from where I lived. It was my first time canoeing, and it was the most perfect day. It was beautiful weather, and I remember the patches of sun and shadows playing on the water that was so clear you could easily see the bottom. We kept spilling, mostly because Tony kept dumping the canoe on purpose, and it wasn't long until we were soaked and muddy. I so clearly remember his muddy face, grinning across the canoe at me like a little boy. We eventually got SO VERY thirsty, but hadn't packed anything. And then around a little bend in the river, we came upon a lone can of Pepsi, perched in a little sandbar, just sitting there like it was waiting for us. It wasn't dented or anything, was in perfect shape, and was even nice and cold. So we shared it, and nothing ever tasted so good, even though I'm not a Pepsi fan. So I suppose I'll keep my trunk of strange keepsakes. My kids can roll their eyes all they want, but someday they'll have a stash of their own.

After spending the day very dressed up, I have come to a conclusion. Diamonds are not a girl's best friend. Sweatpants are.

A Tribute to My 20s

 

           Yesterday I turned 30. Although calling it my second 29^th birthday doesn’t sound quite as old.  In honor of beginning a new decade, I’ve decided to begin a few other new things. I’ve been running. So far, my progress seems rather pathetic, and judging by the fact that I can barely get out of bed in the mornings because of my aches and pains, it seems that my body is in complete protest of this new hobby. And I’m not sure how much weight I’ll lose, because running makes me very hungry.

            I’ve also decided to start blogging, which you may have noticed. Several people have encouraged me to, and honestly, writing has been something that I’ve loved since 5^th grade. I had a quirky, somewhat strict, English teacher in 5^th grade, who gave us a writing assignment every week all year, and I ended up realizing that writing was something that I loved almost as much as reading. I’m typically a very private person, so this whole idea of putting your thoughts out in front of the world is a little strange and uncomfortable for me (my sweet husband has assured me that if people are annoyed, they don’t have to read it).  But I’ve been thinking lately that blogging would be something that I could take time out away from my busy family and do that was JUST FOR ME, and that I enjoyed doing. I don’t think mamas do that enough. I have this little fear of sitting down in my empty nest someday, and realizing that I don’t remember anything I liked, or loved, or was good at. So this is an effort to do a little something for myself. And if anyone else enjoys reading it, or is encouraged in any way, that’s awesome too. I don’t know how often I’ll write, or what I’ll write about. Probably my kids and being a mommy. Maybe my husband and being married. Maybe my past. Probably Jesus. Probably not sports or politics or small engine repair.

            My twenties were pretty full. I lived in 4 states. I’ve worked as a waitress, nurses’ assistant, secretary, English-as-a-second-language tutor, telemarketer, housekeeper, salesperson for women’s clothing, seamstress, surgery tech at an animal hospital, and a registered nurse. (not all at the same time) I got a Bachelor’s Degree in Nursing. I traveled to 19 states I had never been to before. I went on a cruise. I visited Mexico, which was my first time outside the U.S. I flew in a commercial jet for the first time, and rode Amtrak halfway across the country and back by myself.

            There were bad times. I witnessed the end of my parents’ marriage, and the end of our home. I lost my best friend, forever. I battled an addiction. I had to move, and make new friends, and “fit in”, and learn how to be independent and take care of myself. But looking back, I can see where good has always won out, and God has always had a plan, and has always rescued me from myself and brought me right back to where I was meant to be.

Along the way, I made new friends, who helped me to laugh, and to keep going. I learned that trusting in Jesus isn’t about unicorns and rainbows, but sometimes it’s about clinging to the only One left when things get pretty dark and scary. I met my soulmate: This man who believed in me, and was there for me always, and kept me from giving up on love, and life in general. I married him, on a warm August day, and we’ve already been on so many adventures together. I’ve gotten to give birth three times, to two beautiful little girls, and a sweet little boy, who have filled up my life so completely with love and joy, that I can’t imagine life without them. They’ve made me a better person.

I feel like I’ve grown a lot in these 10 years. I’ve been at bedsides and held hands of people being ushered into eternity. I’ve witnessed the miracle and joy of life entering the world, too. I’ve learned more about how to forgive, how to be content, how to be unselfish…. I’m excited about what my next decade will hold, and all the things I’ll be able to learn and do, and experience with my little family.

Sorry. That got a little deep. On a lighter note, I’m pretty sure DQ Dilly Bars are one of the 7 Wonders of the World.