My New Parenting Season

      I have 3 children: Jake, 5, Sonora, 3, and Cori, 7 months. As you can probably imagine, my job for the last 5 years has essentially been to change diapers, coordinate meals, naps, enforce bedtime, and above all else, make sure my children know that mommy means business when she talks loud. Other than that, it’s been a very hands on, non-stop, process of making sure they stay alive, and understand that last little rule.

But now, I have a 5 year old. I am watching my job description shift before my eyes. No longer do I change his diapers. No longer do I put a plate of food in front of him and watch him comply 100% of the time. Now he has opinions. I learned about this in Psychology: the self, the id, the process by which a child becomes him or herself. And here it is, my first born is becoming someone that I am getting to know on a deeper level. All of these new things have been brewing in my head as I am learning to step into this new role of not just parent or rule enforcer, but also friend. Now I can say something about my interests, and he can respond. It’s a beautiful thing.  Also, in the last couple of months I have become a teacher, one of my favorite things to do. While we were at Disneyland there was a crowd of Seniors gathered around this lunch table, and one girl stood in front telling everyone what to do, where to go, and what time they needed to meet back at the table. I told Paul, “that was me in high school! That bossy girl was totally me.” It surprised me to see that my role has not changed much! Yesterday, today, tomorrow…I will be telling people what to do. I love it. I am writing this blog though because I entered a new parenting phase I wasn’t quite prepared for while we were at Disneyland. Here’s the story:

Jake is into Star Wars thanks to Daddy. When we saw that there was a “Training Academy” to become a Jedi we showed Jake one of the shows and asked if he wanted to join. All we had to do was come back for the next show time. We timed our day just right to be back at 12:15 precisely, only 20 minutes before the next show began so we could sit right in front. The kids don’t get to choose to be in the academy, the “teacher” chooses them from the crowd. Hence why we wanted to be right on the tape, with Jake front and center. Jake’s eyes were wide with wonder when the teacher came forth from the crowd, waving his light saber, and beckoning all of the children to listen so they too can be strong against the force. He asked the kids to stand, for the time had come to choose children for his Jedi academy. Kids stood up all over, waving their hands, jumping up and down, crossing the blue line and consequently pushing Jake backwards into the crowd. We did what any parent would do, we pushed him back to the front. We whispered in his ear, “wave your hands, jump up and down!” He did raise his hand, a little. He jumped, but could not quite get as high as the kid next to him. Time and time again he was pushed backwards, and we nudged him back to the front lines. “Jump Jake! Wave at the teacher Jake!” The powerful, important guy on stage skipped right over Jake. He picked the guy to the left, and to the right, and down the line he went. When he announced that he was done choosing, Jake backed up from the line and slouched next to Daddy. He was defeated, downcast and turned to me and asked, “why didn’t he want me to do it?” It was a new stage of parenting for me. I walked into it clueless, unprepared, and downcast myself. Daddy, in the moment, chose a parenting cliché, “life is full of disappointment, Jake.” I wasn’t really buying it, not that it isn’t true, but because I didn’t want Jake to go through life thinking that just because he’s a little quieter, a little more laid back, and uncomfortable jumping around for something he wants, it doesn’t necessarily mean that he will be subjected to a life of disappointment. He’s just different. I am not condoning being shy, especially since I don’t think Jake is shy, he’s just really laid back.

So I used the only tool I had in my arsenal at the time, I prayed. I asked God to help me reach Jake’s heart. We sat down for lunch and Jake reached into the basket of fries, and devoured them in silence. “Uh, so…you were kind of bummed you didn’t get chosen, huh?”
     He sighed, “Yeah…”

     My heart was really hurting for him, and actually there was another tool in my arsenal I chose not to employ, it was, “all of those other kids were idiots, the teacher should have picked you!” Of course, I felt that way, but it wasn’t the truth. So I told him about myself, “Jake, you know, I’m not very good at being loud and outspoken when I need to be. Daddy is the same way. We used to not get picked for things too.” I knew I had interested him because he looked up and listened well. I fumbled a bit, but continued, “You’re kind of like that, right? It’s not comfortable to jump up and down and shout when you’re surrounded by lots of people who are watching.”
      He nodded, “Yeah, I didn’t like that.”

      I knew it, obviously. I tried to think about what the truth was, what it means to be a little quieter, and a little more reserved, it doesn’t meant his life will be full of disappointment, he will just have to find new and different ways to get noticed. So I told him, “Jake, because you are more comfortable being quiet around people at this point in your life, you will just have to do a good job at everything you do. That is what will get you noticed. Strong character, memorable integrity, that means people can trust you to do what you say, and a great work ethic. I already know these qualities come pretty easy to you, and Mommy and Daddy are teaching you the best we can. You will not live a life of disappointment because you are shy.”

I told Paul that I talked to Jake about these things, and he was in wholehearted agreement. He even reiterated to Jake that maybe we could just try again and use a different means to get noticed. He took Jake to the Star Wars store the next day and Jake chose a storm trooper hat as his souvenir. It was pretty ridiculous but he begged. And Daddy is blind even in glasses and didn’t realize it was $5 more than what he saw on the price tag. He crouched in front of Jake and asked him, “Do you want to try the Jedi Academy again? You don’t have to, but if you want to we will try again.” Jake said he wanted to try again. I could tell he was nervous, but he wanted to fight Darth Vader. We found a good seat at the next showing and Paul asked the Holy Spirit how Jake could get chosen, and the Holy Spirit told him to let Jake wear his mask. I didn’t necessarily agree (ok, this was before I  knew the Holy Spirit told him to do it!) but I thought it would be pretty ridiculous for Jake to volunteer with a storm trooper hat, if you know Star Wars, the Storm Troopers are actually the enemy! Why would they pick an “enemy” to fight Darth Vader? Jake stood up when the teacher called the children who wanted to volunteer. He jumped a little, raised his hand a little, because we did encourage him to step outside his comfort zone. He still got pushed out of the way by more zealous children, but we helped him step up to the tape again, in his giant storm trooper mask. He got looked over once, and again, I think I was holding my breath. Paul was speaking in tongues and making declarations…we were going to get this thing done! And next to last, Jake was chosen. The guy on stage aside, “You there in the storm trooper hat,“ he laughed, “You can come if you take your mask off!" Jake shook the mask from his head and ran towards the line of other children. He was so proud, and he walked onto the stage boldly to fight Darth Vader!

When it was all said and done, Paul hugged him and told him, “The secret to disappointment is that we come back at it, again and again, trying a little harder each time until we succeed.” He listened with wide eyes and held his diploma next to his heart. I was so proud of Jake, and of Paul and I. We are entering a new season of parenting, one where our oldest child no longer needs us to simply answer his every need, he is waiting with open ears to glean from our own experiences, our wisdom, and open eyes to see what we’ll do in every circumstances. It can be daunting, after all, because this is all so new. But I was proud of how we handled the situation, and it was a beautiful, exhilarating victory to see Jake up on the stage. My bold, courageous, albeit shy, son overcoming evil. A stunning portrait of what I see his life unfolding into. Jake, we are so proud of you.

A Glorious Day!

     Today was a GREAT day. I woke up at 7:45 am tired (honestly), though I went to bed at 10:00 and the baby only got up twice. Once I woke up, my wonderful, darling husband put the coffee on, like he does every morning. I made myself a delicious cup with stevita and a little milk, and sipped it on the couch with a 2 year old, her morning hair a pile of curls and nests, on my lap. Daddy had to be at work by 8:30, so I managed to follow him around as he got ready for his day, and out the door he went. I alerted the kids that I would make them a yummy breakfast, and after browsing online for 20 minutes or so I was very much inspired by a post that someone shared for grain free cinnamon rolls. I had all the ingredients on hand, so away I went to the kitchen to whip something up, something I could hopefully feed my kids before good ‘ol 9:00 rolled around. They had a cartoon on and though I threatened to turn it off six times and didn’t, I got plenty done in the kitchen. I was happy. The faux cinnamon rolls were amazing, I even had another ½ cup of coffee to wash them down with. Then I fixed a glass of water and got to work on a very messy kitchen. I scrubbed all the counters, did two sinks full of dishes, and then did a load of laundry. I realized it was 9:45 and I really wanted to go to the farmer’s market. So I told the kids, who were now playing really well together, that we needed to throw some clothes on. The baby had woken up by this point so I dressed her, dressed myself, and put some clothes away in my room while my kids dressed themselves.

     Of course, the normal hiccups happened…Sonora pooped in her diaper, and then transferred herself to the toilet, where she slid off and left a trail of poo on the seat and then onto her outfit. So I changed her, while she screamed she wanted to wear the outfit that now had poo on it, swearing she could clean it and have it dry before we left. I wasn’t buying it, so I plopped her outside to scream. Then Jake had to poop and it was relatively easy to deal with, though I realized he hadn’t put on underwear when he got dressed so we had to backtrack a little. No biggie. I had to nurse the baby, change her diaper, and make sure she was happy before putting her down to play.

We got home late last night from a graduation party thrown by the Balbuenas and hosted at the Dean’s house. We were SO blessed by this get together! It was like the substance of the Father’s love to me because there was lots of food and lots of people- both items that put a really big smile on my face. Since we got home late I hadn’t watered my newly planted tomato plants (that I started from seeds…just sayin’…) and I had to do that. Our hose burst JUST yesterday, so I had to fill up a watering can and haul it back and forth to my 8 tomato plants. I spotted a pot of flowers that had not been watered and before pushing the kids out the door to get in the car, I tended to my petunias. The kids were in the car, locked down, and ready to head out at 11:00. The farmers market closed at noon, so I knew I needed to book it. I plugged the address into my GPS and away we went.

     When we arrived it was busy, so I unpacked the two older kids and sent them running to the pavement and commanded them to stay put until I had the baby in the ergo. We walked from booth to booth and picked out what our tummies were telling us to, and enjoyed the experience way too much. Just ask my wallet. It turned out the farmer’s market was only a mile away from where Daddy was working, so we stopped by Starbucks for some overpriced yogurt and a quick hug, while I scored a free black tea that had been someone else's mistake. We also didn’t plan to show up on Daddy’s lunch break, but we did and enjoyed 30 minutes of visiting with the man we love most. We came home, put our food away, the baby went down for a nap, and the kids played with puzzles while I took wet clothes to the line to be hung. I then disciplined Sonora for eating puzzle pieces, while taping soggy, broken puzzle pieces back together with Jake, and when all was said and done, sent them to their room for nap time. The baby is now up and rolling around the floor with her favorite toys. And here I am, with a smile on my face simply thanking God for a beautiful, glorious day out with my family.

I don’t care that it’s 80 degrees in my house and that it won’t get any cooler. I don’t care that there is still laundry to be done, and that I still need to get my barely alive petunias in the ground today, or at least that’s the plan. I am just happy that I am happy. I am in a season where I can look back on the last few months and see what a hell hole it really was. I was trudging through, though I knew I was depressed. Around January I found myself sick, at home with three young kids, miserably missing my mother-in-law, crumpled on the floor rocking back and forth with Sonora and Cori on my lap. Both of them were crying for whatever reason. and I was crying too. I was done. Every day after, I felt the same feeling: give up. One of my friends recommended that I call the doctor and so I did. They made me an appointment right away. I desperately wanted medicine. When my doctor diagnosed me with post-partum depression and recommended anti-depressants I wanted to have them that minute. When the doctor told me it would take 2 weeks to work, I wept in the room. I seriously needed help. I was getting out of the bed, but only because I literally had no choice. Making breakfast, doing laundry, and taking care of children was like holding my arm over a hot burner. I put them in front of the TV only to feel guilty to the core. So I turned off the TV, only to feel like I was majorly failing them as a mother. And I was. At one point I remember laying in bed and thinking this phrase, “My soul is being fed to Satan on a platter.” That is how I felt, like God was not coming to my rescue because it was getting worse, not better.

Today was a GREAT day because I went to bed before midnight last night. Unfortunately depression turned me into an insomniac. It felt like the only time I was alone, ever, was at night. And that’s when the memories began to flood of my mother in law’s laugh, or her voice, or just that general sense that I would not get to see her for a long time. I would mosey out of the bedroom onto the couch and plop down next to Paul, “I just miss her.” And he knew. After I would talk myself into sleeping, I would wake up the next morning sometime around 9:30 am and wish death upon myself because I knew my husband fed my children some form of cereal and milk, and I didn’t want them to get Cancer. Guilt was a close "friend" most days, not a very good friend though. Since I was entirely pissed that anti-depressants would not be effective for two weeks, I turned them down. I went to two counseling sessions that we paid for out of pocket, and had several spiritual mom’s (and my own mom!) lend me their ears and wisdom. I am grateful. In fact, God carried me through that time by means of the body of Christ alone.


Today I made breakfast for my kids. We sang songs, we thanked Jesus, we prayed. We took care of the garden. I had a plan, and I had the energy and determination to follow through with it. HALLELUJAH! Today was a HUGE accomplishment for me. The last couple of weeks have been like opening a cellar door and seeing the light, but today was one that I seriously looked at my myself and could see that depression was now a thing of my past. And now, here I sit, eating a farmer’s market inspired salad with lightly sautéed salted broccoli on the side (my husband says I won’t gain weight because I eat like a person who is dieting…what does he know?) and I am just so happy. My love tank is full. Maybe I am as happy as I’ve ever been, I really don’t know. That is the blessing in disguise about depression: when you come out of that cellar and see the light, it blinds you. And you’re grateful to be blind, so blind that all the little hiccups that made you want to end your life before make you laugh because the hiccups are not a big deal. They’re just life, and life is beautiful. Yesterday was a great day, today was a great day, and tomorrow will be no exception.

The answer to depression, in my life anyway, was simply “process.” It was all a process I was working through. It was a horrible process I hope to not return to, but in the end I made it through. At this point, it would take a lot of toddler poo (and/or vomit) to ruin my day. I am so happy to be happy.

When Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures: Reflections on Being Single

Today was a strange one. My husband went into work only to find that someone had misread his schedule to him and he actually did not have to be at work until this afternoon. So we changed up our plans with little other option. We decided to go out, enjoy the sunshine, and find something for our active children to do. On the way home I was sitting in the front seat next to my husband and I felt compelled to hold his hand, give it a tight squeeze so he wouldn’t forget I was next to him. Like he would. It would never happen.  He squeezed my hand back, and I couldn’t help myself, I just lunged to his side of the car and wrapped myself around his bicep. I really love my husband. Sometimes in my head I’ll compare him to other guys I’ve known, because the truth is, I could probably have been basically happy with other men I’ve been interested in. But I am not basically happy at this time in my life. I am ecstatically, overwhelmingly, supremely in love. I have no excuse to not believe in God after my love story, because it was incredibly intricate, exact.

I hugged my husband’s arm today because I remember what it was like to be me 10 years ago. The thought came to me because we were at a car show and this really cute teenage girl asked us a question and my husband remarked after seeing her that he was glad I had enough decency to not wear clothes as tight and short as this girl had done. It made me laugh since yes, at 26 years of age, I usually don’t wear “booty shorts.” But when I was that girl’s age, I certainly did not have a problem wearing a bathing suit bottom and finding some extra-small shorts to wear over them, I wouldn‘t even zip them! I would fold them over so I was technically wearing clothes, though I wasn’t covering much of anything. Paul said, “Did you like want guys to think dirty thoughts about you?,” and I immediately responded with a, “heck yeah, I did!” It’s true. I thought if a guy was lusting after me, he must like me. He would want to get to know me. That was before I really understood the way a man is wired. So here I was today, thinking about the way things used to be, and it made me lunge at my husband and hold him in my arms.

The reason I consistently dressed provocatively is not just because I had little to no self-esteem, but because I was obsessed with getting noticed. Because I wanted to get married. That was the goal in all of my “I’m not dressed scantily clad enough unless you can see my belly ring and my tattoo, that is actually in a hidden location” days- to find a husband. Go figure. And now I am married to an incredible, wonderful man who values my modesty. In fact, the one thing he continuously finds unattractive about me is how hard I am on myself. How needy I can be when I don’t feel like I am good enough for him or others.

I want to make a point here, that cannot be missed: I literally believed that no one would ever want to be with me. I was the high school girl that watched all of my friends date the football players and cool guys, and very rarely did I get asked out. My first prom date was just because my best friend's prom date's best friend needed a date. I think they call that a "pity date."  I had endless crushes that consistently got me no where. My husband tries to convince me regularly that I was just out of every guy in my high school’s “league,” and while I appreciate his sentiments, I just don’t agree. I think it has to do more with the fact that I love horses, and being dirty at the barn, and telling inappropriate jokes, corny jokes, doesn't-make-sense jokes, and I talk really fast, and laugh consistently at really dumb things, and I'm obsessed with run-on sentences, and writing poetry (of which Nick Carter was usually the subject), and bawling my eyes out for all Humane Society and Operation Christmas Child commercials. Red dye has been known to make me psycho jump-on-the-bed crazy, and staying up too late has the same effect. Watch out. I also have a quasi-obsession with whales and sharks (I google different breeds in my spare time), and pretty much anything to do with the ocean. Puppies. Kittens. Nick Carter. I love antiques, and anything handmade. I love old people. I just didn't make a cool teenager, no matter how you slice it!

I don’t think I did anything special to find Paul. Sometimes people say that when you stop looking, the right person will land in your lap. That was not how it worked for me. Once more in my life, I was in desperate pursuit for a husband. This time though, I was intentional. I was smart-searching. I was picky. I was praying. This was after I had already had a child from a previous relationship and somehow THAT changed my paradigm. I actually believed that I had something worth sharing with someone else. It took a long time before I realized that SOMETHING was me too!

I wanted to write this because I know where I came from. I remember vividly. Even if my mom would tell me otherwise, my grandma, my friends, whoever- I didn’t believe it for myself until I found Paul. Until I finally learned that just because I have always been, and continue to be sort of an odd ball, God had someone really awesome for me. The coolest guy ever. So if you’re waiting to find your soul mate, you are my hero. If you are hiding your heart away for him or her, don’t despair. You are amazing. You are worthy. God has not forgotten you, just like He did not forget me. I bless any and all efforts. I actually have a habit when I meet single people to just pray for a spouse, agree with Heaven for a soul mate in His timing. There is nothing more rewarding than a happy marriage, in my opinion…nothing better than spontaneous hugs for a good husband, from a grateful wife.