Tammey

I love Tammey, she was my youth group leader when I was in high school. She used to take me out for Taco Tuesday at Taco Johns. Yummy. Also, I believe she was the person who introduced me to Chinese cuisine. I don't think she ever gave me any advice, solicited or otherwise. I never felt I had to justify what I was going to do with the rest of my life, or defend who I was dating. She was just there hanging out, eating tacos, listening to me go on and on about whatever 17 year old girls go on and on about.

After their children were grown, her and her husband went to Africa, to be missionaries. I admire that she was still growing even after she was grown up. She taught me about love and grace. I always felt at peace with her, and when I think of her, it reminds me not to strive so much, or worry about what to say or do. Being there and being quiet is often quite valuable.

Limits

For those of you who didn't see Oprah's show on hoarding this week...the lesson was. Impose some limits. On yourself, on your kids before you have 75 TONS of trash in your house and a 10,000 square foot warehouse to hold a garage sale of stuff you don't need.

I am trying to keep the three babies limited to four boxes of toys each. Three little ones and a bin to keep the bigger stuff. For the record I started this before I saw the show. Of course enforcing it became a higher priority this week. I have been cited by CPS for not having enough toys, my grandma was happy with a rag doll and a stick, but our kids need a thousand toys or they can't function.

Imposing limits on the kids has been significantly easier than imposing them on myself. Yes, my closet overfloweth, my excuse is I have the "he" closet, but still it's only an excuse to not manage my limits. I have done the whole turn all of the hangers around and when you wear something put the hanger back correctly, after six months get rid of all the backward hanging clothes. All except the get rid of part. I even put all of my clothes in a different closet and planned on getting rid of them after one year. I eventually had to have my daughter clean out that closet, I don't know what clothes I no longer have, and I'm still alive. But surprisingly ridden with anxiety just thinking about it.

The organizer guy kept reinforcing the statement that if it is special then it should be in a special place, if it is not in a special place, it is therefore not special, and therefore you don't need it. I just have the problem that everything has special meaning to me, or I might need it someday. Never had I realized the concept of limits. I'll blame society. They've been telling us that we are all special, but they forget to impose the limit of we may all be special, but not to everyone. I am not excited that your kid learned to walk. It was not a special day for me, neither do you care that my son's hamster died yesterday. The limits make our special things even more special. Limits leave room for only the best.

We've forgotten the concept of limits, that's why we're all fat and broke. If we run out of money, Visa can save the day. We have unlimited access to food, and we're bound to eat it all. Diamonds are no longer forever, they are also for Christmas, and Valentine's Day, and anniversaries and birthday's and just because. Given that you're required to spend two months salary on them, no wonder we're broke. I have one diamond, my engagement ring, I'm not saying I'll never have another, but it will be special because I don't get 5 a year.

My husband and I have gotten serious about financial limits, it's been important to us for quite awhile, we just didn't know how to do it. For Valentine's Day I gave him my destroyed credit cards, I have no immediate access to credit at this point. We have the very real limit of running out of cash. It certainly causes us to stop and think what we're spending the money on. And there have been no hurt feelings on either side since we've been doing this. We're happy in our limits.

We need to have limits and we need to define them. Our four year old apologized today for "talking". We had to explain that talking wasn't wrong, it was just that sometimes we need him not to talk, he needs to learn that while talking in and of itself is not wrong, but talking when others are talking is, or when we've asked him to be quiet so that we can finish a task without interruption. Talking is wrong when it crosses a defined limit.

I'll be working on limiting my clothes to what fits in the closet, it will suck short term, only because of my own issues. We've already established with the hanger trick that I don't wear all of those clothes anyway. It's just a matter of trusting that I can live within a limit.

Pictures

A couple weeks ago we had some friends over to help celebrate the threesomes three year party. It was a birthday party of sorts for all of them. Our dear friend makes awesome cakes and has made one for the babies as she does for the rest of our family. This particular get together had new people who hadn't experienced our friend's cakes, so we were going through my old cake photos on my phone. Of course our vanity babies saw us looking at pictures on the phone and wanted to see all of theirs.

We showed baby girl pictures, we showed baby boy photos. Little Middle wanted to see his. I showed him all the pictures we had of him, going back to the first picture we have of him taken on the day he arrived. He wanted his baby pictures. We have none. Even though it is a "right" of his to have his pictures, this rarely happens.

I have a couple of my baby pictures at our home, but most of them reside at my parents' house. I still like looking at them. I was pretty cute. I can't relate to little middle's dilema, I don't really need to see my pictures but is it because I have them?

Luckily things are okay between Mama and I right now, so I asked her to bring some pictures. She obliged with the only two that she had, both taken in the hospital. One is so poorly lit you cannot tell there is a baby in the picture.

It surprised me to see how much this relieved little middle's anxiety about the whole situation. One picture gave him validation that he was actually a baby or something. He has stopped asking to see other pictures of him.

What saddens me about this whole situation is that from the age of six months to eighteen months, arguably the most photographed time in a person's life, unless you're Britney, there was no one who was interested in taking pictures of him. He spent that time in five different homes.

I don't know for sure if we have made up for the missing year of his life, but we have several pictures of him. Some cute, but a lot that are documenting his craziness. He's where? He's done what? Either way, there are a lot of pictures.

I've often wondered about his earlier pictures, but even when I saw the ones that his Mama brought, didn't really do anything for me. They were not my memories. I have this reaction to others' pictures as well. My husband's old baseball pictures are cute, but I can't remember everything about that time in his life, because I was not there. I'm sure he's equally stirred by my old pictures.

In the past other kids have brought their pictures, it was sad to see the parade of "Mother's Day" pictures, each year with a different "mother". I also wonder if my photos were to be destroyed by fire of flood if it would bother me. I know they existed, I remember what they looked like. Is is the picture itself, or the memory that it represents. I obviously don't remember the happenings surrounding my baby pictures, but the fact that they exist must mean that that time meant something to someone.

The answers aren't forthcoming. I do know that there are lot's of photographic opportunities that I've missed in my children's life. Just because I didn't have a camera or didn't take the time, or whatever other reason. The twins don't have their third birthday with only two candle pictures, because of operator error on my camera, but it's in my mind until time takes it from me. And besides, will anyone beyond their children even care about the thousands of pictures that will exist of them in their lifetime? Who knows.

Is God Pro-Choice???????

It was a topic of conversation that come up in my life today. Before you start flagging me for objectionable content take a moment to read our thoughts on this. We did not resolve this issue, but it made me think, even if you end up disagreeing with our thought process, I'm hoping it will give you pause.

First, human life is precious to God. We did not dispute that. God of course would love for all people to dwell with Him forever, He thought of us, He created us, He made a way for us. But He knew if given the choice between A and A, and we chose A, would it be our choice?

Second, if there were not a legal choice, would the "problem" go away? We thought not, so what would Jesus do? Would he send desperate and hurting women to the back alley with a coat hanger or would it be more Christlike to have a safe and legal option? One that is being watched and regulated.

Alright, even my own head is swirling at this point. It will be over soon.

This lady and I are around the same age. We predate the "choice", but we grew up in the age of choice. Choice is out and proud and only a medical procedure, or so we've been told early and often. I know people who have faced the "choice" and I would say the choices made split fairly evenly. If you have never been faced with an unplanned pregnancy you do not know what choice you would make. No, you don't. I chose to view my babies as a "surprise" rather than an "accident". Of course there is no such thing as a surprise or an accident, I was having sex, I got pregnant, I felt my choice had already been made. On the other side though, I knew girls who were forced there by their own mothers or boyfriends. Girls who couldn't stand the thought of being tied to a certain guy for 20 more years. Girls who thought it more convenient and private than condoms. Others who believed that it was just a simple medical procedure. And then I also knew others who gave up their babies for adoption. Which complicates it even more.

I've always considered myself pro-life. I've always viewed choice as something that should be made prior to the "surprise". I consider myself a Jesus freak. I am, however, very offended at people who hold up signs outside of clinics screaming at girls who are seeking an option.

I'm gonna speak from a little experience here and say that unplanned pregnant equals looking for love. I wanted love from a guy, or a baby and now that the guy is gone, I the unloved cannot love a baby.

Now alone and scared what's a girl to do? Are you helping her with your sign? No, you're scaring her, and she's still going inside, where people are being nice to her, where people are helping her. Even if those people are wrong, who do you think she's going to believe? When she finds her way to you, it will be too late.

Six months or so ago was the first time I've come across such a scene. The God squad with their signs and crying women with escorts. It was also the first time I thought that maybe I should go and volunteer at a clinic. A pro-lifer in an abortion clinic, I probably wouldn't be there long, but I might be able to help for awhile. I might be able to tell them the truth about the "procedure" they are about to undergo, I might be able to offer up other options, or I might be able to love someone while they are making a decision that will stay with them for the rest of their life. Let's face it, clinics will always be open, wouldn't it be more helpful to be on the inside? It's not a choice I can make for someone else. How do I know? God told me so. He set an example, here is A and B. I'll leave the choice up to you.

Alphabet Soup

Earlier this week a group of people, most of whom have never met us, got together to assess our parenting of little middle born of the heart boy. There were Phd's and LPC's, and MSW's and God only knows who else, but as has been done quarterly for almost four years now, all the letters got it wrong.

Funniest issue was the Phd who declared my biggest problem with my three year old was that he wet the bed. If only. If the potty issue were the biggest problem I had, I would have more of an issue with him peeing in his dresser drawers in the daytime than in his pullups in the middle of the night.

Second issue I have is that someone reported that little middle tells Mama "you're not my mom." This has never happened. I will admit to having issues early on, but I am now 1000% on board with him being very clear exactly who Mama is. The only time he's ever mentioned his relationship with Mama in a way less than enthusiastically is when he declared he didn't want to go back there.....not to her house, but in her belly "cause that would be gross". Amen. He gains greater understanding daily with the fact that he grew in my heart and lives in Mama's. I shouldn't be so surprised that a three year old understands it better than people who have spent his life 10 times over studying it.

Other issues, it was indicated that his "adaptive ability" is low to the point of being "clinically significant" yet he has "adequate coping skills". Really? they sound awfully similar to me. And as someone who interacts with him daily, he has the worst coping skills on the planet, even for a three year old.

My favorite part is that the outcome of his assessment puts him at a coping, and socializing age of about two years six months. Guess how long he's lived here....two years five months. So with all they got wrong they got it right that he was lost without us, and that he should not be moved.

Looking forward to next quarter when they decide that not letting a 45 pound two year old "graze" is depriving her of her "right to eat". I'm hoping they get all their letters together, put them in a pot and make some soup. That would be helping me.