Monday, February 21, 2011

Fridge vs Pantry

Food and I are not really very good friends. We try, but I think that deep down we just hate eachother.
I am trying to raise my girls in an environment where this is not the situation. I am trying to raise them to be responsible eaters. I am trying to offer them a well-balanced meal three times a day...
But it doesn't always happen.
My oldest is amazingly picky. She has a few foods that she will eat and refuses to budge. If there is a speck of "green stuff" (spices) on her food then you may as well throw in the towel because she won't be eating it.  She is also very skinny. Shocking, right?!?!
My middle child has always been a good eater. We skipped right over baby food. She basically went from nursing to steak! She is starting to develop more preferences; however, she is willing to try new foods and often times likes them.
My baby is a good eater; however, she has already had a lot of dietary issues that we are still working out. She can only have certain dairy products and has some other GI stuff we are working to resolve. She is entering into the 2 year old stage of not eating much. I am not worried about it since I have seen my other girls go through it.
My girls are all fairly small. They usually fall well below average for weight. Their doctor laughs and says, "Well, mom, I wouldn't expect them to be big because you are not." I suppose that is true. However, I think that because they are skinny, I worry less about what they eat. I am more willing to let them have snacks that are not good for their bodies. And I don't like it.
I don't want them to struggle with food like I have. I want to teach them early. I want them to learn what is helpful and what is not. I want them to be friends with food.
My new goal is to feed my family more from the fridge and less from the pantry. More fresh foods and less processed stuff. More yogurt and less crackers. More veggies and less chips. More cheese and less candy.

Saturday, February 19, 2011


Back to my Bible Study...
We are reading the book Fearless by Max Lucado. There is a chapter that we discussed this week that I am struggling with. I talked about it a little bit during our study. It was interesting how different women had different suggestions/comments/ideas for me.
We were talking about giving our children "back to God".
     "We tend to forget this fact, regarding our children as 'our' children, as though we have the final say in
     their health and welfare. We don't. All people are God's people, including the small people who sit at our
     tables. Wise are the parents who regularly give their children back to God." (pg. 58)
I have done this often... "given" my girls back to God. However, I find myself afraid to totally let go. I gave the example of when Brooke was in the NICU.  I would walk out of the double doors of the unit and pray. I would say, "God, I know that she is yours. I give her to you, BUT do not let her die." I couldn't full let go and let God. I felt the need to hang on just a little bit. To keep a small amount of the control.
I knew that He was capable of taking care of her. He had kept her alive that long. There was no medical explanation for her being alive. It was all God... and for some reason I struggled with fully letting Him be in control. I was so afraid that He would take her from me.
     "Don't be afraid. Just believe, and your daughter will be well." -Luke 8:50
He promised. I struggled.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Snot Faced

I am due (probably overdue) for a good cry... Like the snot faced, mascara all over your cheeks, swollen eyes kind of cry. I feel it. I had a few teasers this week while driving in the car, but then I would arrive at my destination and pull it together.
I am due. I want to curl up on a friend's couch and just cry...
It isn't all bad.
Some is great.
I just feel the pressure and the build-up and know it is time to let it out.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

1% Milk

"... they called a family meeting when we switched to 1% milk."  (from Modern Family)
I love this line. It reminds me so much of my family growing up. Except it would be "she called a family meeting..."
My mother was the queen of "communication". She tried so very hard. She called family meetings all the time. She made worksheets that we had to fill out before we could have permission to go somewhere. She had schedules taped to the walls and copies of calendars.
I see how difficult parenting is... especially when both parents are not on the same page. I hope and pray that we can work together to be a "we" in our parenting. That "we" will value communication and family values... even if that means having family meetings every once in a while.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011


I am in a Bible Study with some women and we are studying the book, Fearless.  I read the chaper about being fearful/scared/concerned for our children. I totally related. I find myself praying for my girls so often.  Being a mother is hard. There is so much out of my control. I drop them off at school... and pray. I send them to a friend's house to play... and pray. I used to walk out of the NICU doors and leave Brooke there... and pray. Over the years, I have spent many hours waiting on medical reports on my girls... and prayed. Right now I am snuggling with a sick baby... and praying.  It is kind of all you can do!
I feel myself shifting my worry around. Right now it is focused on Brynn. She seems more anxious than usual. I can not go into another room without letting her know where I am going and how long I will be there (even if it is just to fill up a cup of water).  I certainly could not go upstairs without her going with me. The few times that I have assumed she was content and ran upstairs, she totally panics. She sobs and reaches this concerning point of freaking out. She still goes to preschool and Sunday school without an unhealthy level of anxiety, but other situations are proving to be too overwhealming for her. She has so much anxiety and it makes me sad. I feel like a lot of it comes from me and that also makes me sad. I do my best to reassure her that she is safe and things are ok... and I pray. A lot...


We have been organizing our basement lately. It is a very overwhealming job. I am finding boxes that have not been unpacked since we moved into this house... three years ago. There are things like half empty packs of gum and "TO DO LISTS BEFORE WE MOVE" with only a few things marked off.
I also found the box I packed when I quit my job... five and a half years ago.  Everything from my desk in my cute corner office is packed away. My pens and pencils, keys and copy cards, photographs and frames. It is like that part of me stopped when I packed the box and walked out of my office. I had just had our first baby and thought working part time was a wonderful idea. I made it about ten weeks and quit and haven't opened that box since.
While organizing the basement I also went through box after box of books... hundreds of them. I have an impressive collection of books. I could fill an office with adult books. As I sorted through them, I said out loud, "I used to be intelligent."
I did. I used to read intelligent books and learn about things like the parts of the brain and how trauma impacts them. I knew things. I understood so much. I found notes from presentations that I made and was impressed.
Ainsley asked me what it meant to be intelligent. When I explained it to her, she responded, "Mommy, I think that you are still very intelligent."
It was sincere. It was authentic. It was true.
I am still intelligent. I may have forgotten the names of the parts of the brain and the founder of contextual therapy, but I am still intelligent.
I know my family. I know what makes us tick. I know each of my girls and my husband. I know myself. I am learning about their hearts and their little spirits. I know their medical conditions and their birth marks. I know their scars and where they came from. I know who likes corn on the cob and who likes it cut off. I know their favorite books and the cartoons that make them smile. I know their bedtime routines and their lovies they can not sleep without.
So, the books can wait because right now I know what matters most.