Honestly

Do you see this picture? This crazy, fuzzy, motion-filled, imperfect picture? 

This depicts life in our home.

Someone recently said something to me about how I must only show the highlights of our life as a family of four. I can understand why she might think that. But it honestly irked me.

There are a few reasons for why it irked me and it's taken me some time to digest and navigate.

First, life in our house is far from perfect. Of course it can't be perfect! There are four personalities attempting to live under one roof. Four needs and wants that aren't always met. That makes for a lot of lowlights (the opposite of highlights) and shadows, and tears, and unpleasant moments.

Secondly, I find it disrespectful to post pictures of any of my children crying, screaming, or in any way unhappy. I'd be incredibly upset if someone posted a picture of me at my worst and mocked me for my emotions. They don't have access to social media now, but one day they will, and I want them to feel comfortable knowing that I haven't embarrassed them or shamed them for being human. I've done my best to embrace those emotions in our home, but it won't happen on social media. We have journals we are writing to each of the kids and I will write those things personally, if/when needed.

It's not that I want to paint the picture that life is only full of rainbows and sunshine. I'd love to tell you that's all I've experienced in this life, but it's just not true. Life is messy and dusty and new. Life can be full and empty. Life is hard and broken. Life is soft and fixed. Life is sharing, giving, and taking. Life is a daring adventure.

I once read a quote that said, "Behind every good kid is a mother who's sure she's screwed it all up." Or something like that.

I get to the end of every day and wonder, and pray, and hope that I've not ruined everything. Hoped that there would be grace where my edges were raw, where my emotions flipped for little reason, and that my children would know, first and foremost, how deeply they are loved.

My social media sites are full of what I want my children to know and remember and hear. It's full of what I want to savor. It's full of the goodness I want to seek, the moments I want to cherish, and the celebrations that should be lavishly enjoyed. I share my heart here, but it is certainly censored for our own privacy and to respect those I love so dearly, and myself.

I choose wonder, hope, and light in the midst of it all. If I didn't then I'm not sure how I'd get out of bed in the morning, or rest my head at night. These years won't last forever and I want to slow down, enjoy, and notice them.

The Darndest Things

The best things about parenting are the front-row seats we get to the life of our child. At this age, at least, we get to experience the full-throttled joys of his accomplishments and two year-old excitements, but we also are there to soothe the heartaches of social struggles, and the bumps and bruises of a toddler who doesn't slow down. Our kisses solve every problem and our smiles show him that we are there, we saw what he engineered, and we couldn't be more proud. Our corrections hurt more than anyones, but he knows that we will always scoop him up to comfort, listen, and begin again. We have the best seats in the house. And there's no way we're giving them up.

That's why it's hard to be apart! We want to see everything and hear every word. 

But this kid handles separation like a champ, we've learned. He's secure and confident, knowing that we'll always return. Going to the hospital was no different. We'd prepared, explained, and discussed the plan daily for weeks. 

In the end, our friend Barb came over for the night and brought Ian back to her house before her husband needed to go to work. Barb said that Ian wasn't phased by her presence and knew that we were at the hospital, almost as soon as he saw her. He knew. He understood. And he was strong. We'd be back.

Mom arrived that morning and brought him straight to the hospital. When she wasn't sure where exactly to go when they pulled up to the hospital, Ian told her. He knew where to go, since he'd come with me on the tour. We'd discussed how Äma would bring him to see us. He knew. He even knew the location and what the building looked like. That boy. My heart bursts. We are so proud.

So, here's a post all about him. A post about what he's saying lately. He says the cutest and darndest things. 

He's learning our language and so there are a few phrases that he says that just make us smile... I won't remember all of them, but I'll at least get some of them written down before they evaporate out of this mom's brain.

When he's hurt or has something to show you he says, "Look, I have..." He doesn't finish the sentence, he just wants to point out that he has something. "Look, look, look... I have..."

 When you have something that he would like to have he says, "Can you please just not have that?" Haha!

 Many sentences start with "You just..." For example, "You just need a drink, Mama?" Or, "Oh, Owen's just upset!" Or, "Leif just caught the ball, Mama!"

Another phrase he says is "We probly _______." For example, "We probly go home and have some lunch." Or, "Those monkeys probly climb the tree to rest."

One morning, while eating breakfast, he was trying to tell me something and I wasn't quite sure what he was talking about. After listening for a while I finally figured it out and said, "Oh, ________ is what you were saying?" He responded with, "Yes, that's what I'm talking about!!" He was so exuberant and excited in his response. To be understood & acknowledged is a lifelong desire, isn't it? I just loved the way he had his own phrase with the same meaning to match my response. It surprised me, really.

One of my favorite things he's said came this morning when he noticed that Jim has some stubble under his beard on his neck. He said something like, "Look, look, you have..." and rubbed Jim's neck.  And then he said, "You have a beard so you can play rugby, Papa?" 

Hmm, interesting logic. And oh so funny!

Another wonderful thing about parenting is having someone to share the joys, the sayings, the challenges, laughs, and tears with you. Daily we debrief the day, sharing stories in front of Ian if he's still awake when Jim gets home, or showing videos and photos long after he's gone to bed. The darndest things happen in parenting, too. We need all the support we can get from each other.