You say it's his birthday!

8 years ago, I was a very pregnant woman who thought she had just peed her pants.  I was certain that with the weight of what the doctors told me would be a 10 pound baby on my bladder and my due date still a week away, that was the only explanation.  I spent the next 4 or 5 hours wondering why, despite my constant trips to the bathroom, I was still 'leaking urine.'  Matt finally convinced me to go to the ER just to get things checked out (it was a Sunday) and the timing couldn't have been more perfect.  I walked through the automatic double doors of St. Vincent hospital and just as if that little cherub knew where we were, my water broke all over the fancy rug in the lobby of the ER.  Matt had dropped me off at the door and left to park the car and when we had returned his first words to me were, "Did you notice that the floor is all wet?"

That was about 2 p.m. and 6 hours later I still wasn't having contractions nor did I feel any different than I had before the slip and slide party in the lobby.  Doctor said, "Let's try an epidural and see if that relaxes you enough to start labor."  He had no idea how accurate that statement was.  The epidural was in and I was nestled in for the night by 11:30.  Quickly enough, at 12:34, Gabriel Joseph was born!  And he was only 8 pounds 3 ounces, proving at just minutes old, how desperately he needed to prove everyone wrong.

His presence was told to me by a sweet voice in the middle of the night that some have dismissed as a dream, but I knew and still know that God has huge plans for this little miracle.  His middle name is after my comical and torturous late great uncle Joe.  Both his first and middle name couldn't be more fitting.

He's a sweetheart.  Of course all mothers think their children are, but this kid has the most gentle and accepting spirit.  He loves animals and I'm sure he's my payback for bringing all sorts of weird animals into my parents house when I was a kid.  So far, we've housed many toads, frogs, a turtle, insects of all kinds, hermit crabs and everyday is an argument about why our cat can't live in the house, but it's about to get more adventurous. He's been asking for an iguana and surprisingly, his birthday present is one of those creepy little lizards.  He's been reading about them and is eagerly anticipating snuggling up with the little green monster.  I tried to explain that they really aren't cuddly but his response is, "Why? I'm sure they can feel love too."  And there it is...I'm eager to see where that spirit takes him.

Happy birthday, Gaber!

I set the alarm a little earlier this morning because Adri didn't get a bath last night.  It was no suprise, though, that she woke me up about 10 minutes before the alarm and reminded me that she didn't want to stink at school today so I better bounce out of bed and help her in the shower.

Mornings are crazy, hectic and often rushed, no matter how much extra time I give myself and the kids.  The boys are rock stars in the morning.  They are dressed before they even come to the kitchen for breakfast.  They've spoiled me.  After they eat, they quickly get to the rest of their morning routine and grab a book or play Legos when they're done, waiting quietly for me to give the go ahead to start walking down the driveway for the bus.  Adri is usually the first one up and the last one ready.   She's pokey. She has to chit chat about absolutely everything she's doing and can't talk and get dressed at the same time.  I spend my mornings yelling, I mean saying, "stop talking and get ready for school!"

Maybe its because she's a girl or maybe because she's got a completely different personality than my quiet soft spoken boys.  She loves it when I tell her that she has diarrhea of mouth.  She thinks it's hilarious but has no idea how totally accurate that statement is.  She talks and talks some more and if you're not listening, she'll keep talking.   Heck, she can't even go to the bathroom quietly.  I hear her through the closed door, talking about what's she's going to do at school, who she wants to sit by at lunch, or how she's going to ask God someday why girls sit down to potty and boys stand.  Or she'll sing...and boy does that girl sing!  She's so spirited when she sings.  Spirited and joyful, yes.  In tune, not!  She gets that from me.

I spend most of my time with her just repeating, "okay," and "yes" and "really?"  It's exhausting to listen and process absolutely everything that girl says.  And let's be honest, sometimes you just don't want to have a conversation...especially in the morning!

Since school has started, I have so greatly missed my Adri girl.  I miss the boys too, but adri has been with me almost everyday of the past 5 years (and talking the last 4 1/2)!  I just don't have the same kind of conversation with Abi when the big kids are gone.  Our quality time is spend reading books about farm animals and singing "this little light of mine."  We also spend some time nursing, eating crackers, having nap time and taking long walks up and down the driveway.  She's sweet and simply adorable, but there's just not a lot of variety in our conversation...and it's only one way!  

Adri walks in the door after school and within 5 minutes I'm usually telling her to stop talking long enough to let the boys get a word in.  In fact, I'm quickly wishing for bedtime (confess...you all do it, too).  

But for some reason, this morning, when she popped out of bed and started talking my ear off, I heard a quiet voice whisper to me...Don't wish this away because someday, you'll miss it.  And I had an 'ah ha' Oprah moment.  Little adri, if you want to tell me about how well you slept, what you dreamt about, why you need to wear your twinkle toes today, and how and why you prefer baths to showers...all before my morning coffee, that's okay.  In fact, just keep talking.  Someday you may prefer to have these intense conversations with your friends instead of your mom.  And someday you may come home from school with nothing to say and want to head directly for your room.  And someday I may ache for our little chats about 'nothing important' or yearn to hear your sweet voice sing about cows or the color yellow or about how pharaoh wouldn't let the people go.  So go ahead.  Talk away.  I promise to not wish you to zip up that pie hole...well, at least not as much!

My Mom

The first memory I have of my mother was standing in the bathroom while she brushed my hair.  I think we may have been headed to Hills.  Remember Hills?  If you grew up in Anderson in the 80's, I'm sure you do.  I don't recall much about our frequent shopping trips there other than they had layaway and enormous soft pretzels.  We'd plan those shopping trips a week in advance.  She'd say something like, "I'm off a week from Wednesday.  We'll go there and put your school clothes in layaway."

I think I was a good kid.  The only trouble I ever gave my mother (and I'm sure she would agree with me) was with my sassy mouth.  Yes, I know...other than that awful backtalk, I was near perfect.  She'd tell me that, too, as did my great grandma.  Gram would say, "It's not nice to talk to your mother that way."  It wasn't until years later, I realized two very important things.  Number 1: I'd regret those awfully sarcastic and defiant verbal tantrums someday.  And number 2:  Being a parent now, I realize how badly I must have hurt her.

When you have a mother like her, you learn so much more than the basics.  Yes, she taught me things like chew with your mouth closed, say please and thank you, how to wear makeup, do laundry, call when you get there, never to get into a car with someone whose been drinking, etc, but I took so much more with me when I moved out of that house.  She may not have known it, but she taught me so much more.  

If I could go back in time, I'd be more thankful for those Hills shopping trips even though lots of my friends were shopping at the mall.  I'd be more thankful because my mom cared enough to make sure I didn't do without, when maybe the extra money wasn't there.  Me getting those new clothes meant that she was doing without something that she wanted, but such words never left her mouth.  She was teaching me selflessness.  

She frequented my great grandmas house, sometimes daily, with milk or a crossword puzzle...sometimes because she asked, but sometimes just because.  She taught me how important it is to take care of our family.  

I can't count the number of times she worked evenings, nights and weekends, when she'd rather be doing something else.  She never called in sick and I can only remember one time she took a vacation.  She taught me how to work hard.  

After working all day or night at a job she didn't love, she came home and prepared meals, did laundry, and cleaned the house for a family that didn't appreciate her enough.  She taught me that being a mother isn't rewarding because your husband is kids say thank you.  It's rewarding because you GET to be a mother and wife.  Is there anything better?

I often joke about how protective she was over me.  The standing joke is that I was 16 before I could cross the street.  But now that I'm a mom, I GET IT!  I'm sure, just the same as I do with my kids, she wanted to cover me in bubble wrap and never let me out of her sight.  I miss my kids like crazy when I'm not with them and somehow she survived sending me on cross country trips with my youth group, to another country on a missions trip, and worst yet, to Florida with my girlfriends!  Can I apologize now, for the anxiety I must have caused?  It's too late?  Yeah, I figured.  

And even though I have been out of the house for so many years, she still pampers me.  She treats me to lunch often, watches my kids, just because, and often doggy sits when we're out of town.  She rarely says no.  I can't count the number of times Matt and I have come back from a date night to find her asleep on the couch after wrestling all of our Houdinis to bed.  And if too much time goes by between my requests for a babysitter, she springs something on me like, "Maybe I could take the kids to a movie on Saturday."  You're kidding me, lady!  I know that taking 3 kids to a movie is not only chaotic, but also expensive!  And isn't seeing us once a week enough?  Apparently not!  

For more than 10 years now, our family has a standing invitation to my parents house every Sunday for a home cooked meal and of course, ice cream.  The kids depend on it.  They cherish it.  Between us, I do, too.  I think one of the best gifts I can give my kids is a relationship with their grandparents, and my kids have some of the best, which is why I so highly value those Sunday dinners.  

So, Mom, I'm sure I don't say it enough and there are definitely no words to convey how amazing I think you are.  But thanks for being an incredible mother and grandmother.   I read something the other day that said, "Sometimes when I open my mouth, my mother comes out."  All I could think was, "I hope so."

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.