It's not about me

At least once a month I meet with a group of moms that all have children with special needs. A few nights ago we met up to have dinner and chat about life. One of the moms referenced a quote from the book, The Purpose Driven Life: "It's not about me." She was putting it into the context of how sometimes she feels guilty for being sad that she has to go through the experience of having a child with a disability. She believes it isn't about her and despite trying not to make it that way, selfishness always finds a way to creep in. We finished the night eating way too much dessert and then I drove home, not really giving a second thought to the idea of it "not being about me".

I believe in an earlier post I admitted to not crying about Cale in a long time. Life had been pretty good and Cale was making progress. My efforts to keep the positive on the forefront of my mind must have been working because I hadn't had a reason to be sad in quite some time. For whatever reason, though, last night I broke down in tears. It honestly surprised me a little and I felt awkward crying in front of Alex. I didn't want him to see me like that, weak and broken. Cale also saw me crying and I can't help but wonder if he knew the reason behind my tears.

I can't really pinpoint a specific event that all of a sudden made me so sad. Yesterday, both Cale's teacher and his speech therapist commented on how hard of a worker he is. They continually praise his determination and patience. Cale has to work for everything, from something as small as stacking one block on another, to maintaining his balance while remembering to move one foot in front of the other, making step after step after step. Things that other kids don't even have to think about Cale has to give all his concentration and attention to. The praises he receives from his teachers make me happy and so proud, but they also put a lump in my throat as I try to not be sad that Cale has to work for everything. Simple play is work and I can't help but be sad that his childhood will never be normal or easy. Some of my tears were for Cale, wondering if he's beginning to understand or question why he's not like the other little kids.

The rest of my tears, though, were feelings of guilt pouring down. It's hard to know if I'm a good mom and if I'm being the best advocate I can be for my son. For instance, I'm used to Cale getting pushed around and having toys grabbed right from his hands. Even normal kids experience that. I'm used to watching Cale chase hard after a group of kids, only to reach them and have the kids turn right back around and run a different direction. Cale never gives up, though - he'll continue to follow them. I'm used to watching Cale look at other kids, knowing that he's wanting to be able to do what they are doing. I even see that as he watches his sister. I'm used to Cale getting frustrated when he realizes he needs help. Last night, though, he was on the floor walking around on his knees. A child in one of those Fisher-Price cars ran right into him. Cale fell face-forward and the child continued to move over him until half his body had disappeared under the car. As I watched and looked for Alex to come swoop him up, Cale awkwardly tried to get up, and once he was free, he didn't even cry. He simply moved out of the way. Unless Cale gets hurt, he doesn't cry when other kids do things to him. He doesn't cry if someone pushes him over or takes a toy away from him. He doesn't cry if kids run away from him and he can't keep up. He doesn't cry when he realizes he can't do something on his own. He doesn't even cry when he gets run over by a toy car.

Is this a sign that Cale simply accepts being who he is? Or is it a sign that I'm not protecting him enough and he's gotten to the point where he thinks he deserves to be treated this way. I don't know where the line is between being an advocate for my son and being an over-protective mother. I want Cale to be tough and learn to stand up for himself, but he's not doing those things for himself and so I can't help but wonder if it's me that needs to stand up for him. Parenting a child with a disability and knowing what's right is so incredibly difficult. But it's not about me and as I think about why I was crying, I'm left wondering what it looks like to have it not be about me. What does that even mean and can it help me try and sort out the right and wrong in raising Cale?

Some things are way beyond my understanding

Christmas came and went. My parents' beloved pet, Roxie, escaped from our house on Christmas day and after hours of searching for her, we learned she had been hit by a car. Losing a pet on Christmas kind of takes the joy out of things. New Year's also came and went. Alex and I made it 'til midnight but once we toasted our glass of sparkling cider we almost had to drag each other up the stairs and boost one another into bed. My body is not made for staying up until midnight. We now begin 2010 not much differently than we ended 2009. Life keeps rolling along and I suppose we're just hitching a ride.

I truly do have more joy in my life than the prior paragraph may lead you to believe, but the course of some recent events has kicked me in the shins and made me realize that this world is a crappy place to live and some day, and only until then, will I be able to live in complete peace, void of any and all suffering. The birth of a new baby girl makes me question yet again why suffering is allowed and what sort of plans God has for the suffering He allows us to go through.

My friend's sister and her husband gave birth to a baby girl on December 23rd. After from what I understand was a healthy and normal pregnancy, this baby girl was delivered and not breathing. Rushed to the NICU with her parents only allowed a glance at their new, precious baby girl, doctors determined that she could not breathe on her own and was unresponsive to anything going on around her. This baby girl can not suck, move her arms or legs, and possibly not even be able to see. Full-term and with what seemed like no complications during her pregnancy, why is this happening? Doctors believe the baby girl, Lydia, was deprived of oxygen at some point which lead to significant brain damage. The parents have had to make incredibly difficult decisions, one being whether to let their baby live or to let her go be with her Father in Heaven. So far they have chosen for the doctors to do everything they can to let her live. I know of two surgeries she's already had to undergo and who knows how many more could be to follow.

My heart just breaks for these new parents. Here they were, spending nine months anticipating the arrival of their first child, getting excited and preparing the nursery. Waiting during those last few days in complete euphoria of knowing they will soon get to meet the baby they have been waiting so patiently for. They were probably getting excited to be able to bring her home in time for Christmas. What a perfect Christmas present! But now, days into the New Year and Lydia is in the hospital, tubes and wires connected all over her body, helpless. Her parents did not get to bring her home for Christmas and not only that, but the child they had dreamed of is not the child they got.

"Dreaming New Dreams" is the title of my blog and it was for this very reason I decided to name it that. Alex and I were forced to dream new and different dreams after Cale was born and we realized he wasn't the normal baby boy we thought we were going to have. Our situation and the situation my friend's sister and brother-in-law are going through are completely different and I don't dare try to compare our experience to theirs, but I do know how they are feeling at least on some level. The fear, the shock, the "why us", the disbelief that this is actually happening are things I definitely experienced and assume they must be, too. However, I believe God protected my heart during Cale's birth and the two months he spent in the hospital, because I look back at those days and wonder how on earth I got through them without being in tears every single day. I was even able to smile and be joyful. I know it was God protecting my heart because I should have been a complete wreck. Don't get me wrong, there were days when I was and those days were really tough, but God was definitely looking out for me. I pray He is doing the same for this family.

The verse that has always come to mind, even when I was driving home after Cale was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, is Jeremiah 29:11, "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." I believe this verse applies to us all, even to Cale and baby Lydia. God has great plans for the both of them and will use them to help bring glory to His name.

Please pray for Lydia and for her parents. I can't imagine the fear in their hearts but I do know we have a great God that is capable of great things.

"It's the most wonderful time of the year..."

Life these days has been busy, busy, busy! I thought Cale starting preschool would slow things down a bit but it has done the complete opposite and sped things up! Instead of relishing in the five hours he's gone during the week, my mind is flooded with the errands I should be running, the bathrooms that need cleaning, or the floors that need scrubbing. I know I should be relaxing with Riley and enjoying her but instead I find myself running around like a chicken with my head cut off. Perhaps after we have adjusted to this new schedule I will learn how to manage my time a bit better.

Cale has recently started doing a few new things that are completely adorable! During dinnertime he patiently waits with his hands folded and his head bowed until all of us have sat down and prayed. It is too cute! And being that it is Christmas time and the masses of people are out and about shopping, traffic has been terrible! I literally cringe when I realize I have to brave the roads and run an errand. Apparently Cale doesn't like the traffic, either; he signs the word "go" when we have to sit in traffic for too long and just this morning, after we had sat behind someone at the ATM machine for far too long, Cale frowned his lip and waved his hand at the car in front of us. Too funny! Even though he can't vocalize any words yet, we are finally at a point where we can pretty effectively carry on a conversation with him. I have yet to finalize a signing chart for his preschool teacher but he probably has over thirty signs he uses without us having to prompt him. We have only seen a glimpse of his frustration of not being able to vocalize his exact needs and for that I am very grateful. Cale is one of the most patient, understanding, and forgiving people I know. I also realized today that I haven't cried about Cale being different in a long time. In fact, I don't remember the last time I cried. The last emotion I recall having when thinking about our circumstances was pure thankfulness. Cale continues to make me a better person and I am so blessed to be his mother. I honestly would not change him for the world. God wasn't messing around when he made Cale. :)

Riley is now seventeen months old and keeps me on my toes every second! She is hilarious and makes me laugh until my belly hurts. One of her new activities is to slide like a ROCKET on her stomach down our stairs. (We have a set of fourteen stairs and so this is quite the show) It used to scare me tremendously but I have since gotten used to it and so now I just think it's funny. She has adopted most of Cale's signs and I think they have even created a few of their own to talk about Alex and me behind our backs. :) Her favorite sign is "chicken" because it involves "pecking" your hand like a chicken would peck the ground. She involves sound effects and all. She loves her brother and as much as I pray that she will stay a mommy's girl forever, she is slowly becoming partial to her father. The only way I can comfort myself with this realization is knowing she will have a great relationship with Alex, much like the one I have with my dad, and also thanking the Lord for providing her with a father. Watching her get so excited for him to get home from work is quite cute.

Christmas is only four days away and I can hardly believe it. My parents are coming to our house this year and I am excited to make Jesus a birthday cake on Christmas Eve and for homemade cinnamon roles on Christmas morning. This truly is one of the most wonderful times of the year...

Snow blobs, backpacks, and girl time!

*Sigh* I've made it through two full week of Cale going to preschool and let me just tell you, I AM LOVING IT! Who knew how easy things would be with just ONE child? Going to the grocery store, the mall, INSIDE of a coffee shop rather than having to use the drive-up are just a few of the luxuries I've been able to enjoy during the two-and-a-half hours that Cale is learning away. I have soaked up every minute that I've been able to be alone with Riley, because unlike Cale, she hasn't had much one-on-one time with us. She is at such a fun age and I've been reminded lately through friends and other different circumstances that although my kids, at this age, make me want to rip my hair out at any given moment and start screaming out the windows, this time truly is precious and someday I will want these days back again. With that thinking I believe I have truly been able to enjoy my kids more while Alex is at work. I previously would stare at the clock and wait until lunchtime when he would come home for a few minutes to grab a bite to eat, and then after he left I would stare at the clock until it was time for naps, and then HALLELUJAH! Dad came home from work!!! Now, though, I have started to miss my kids while they nap and when we put them down for bed at night, I can't wait to wake up in the morning and see their precious faces. Weird, I know.

Today the kids and I spent a good twenty minutes getting ready to have our first play day in the snow! Without too much crying about why we had to wear snowsuits and gloves we finally made it into our backyard, and the white winter wonderland that was just waiting for little people to make a mess of things lay perfectly still before us. That's how I pictured it in my mind anyway. First step out the door and both Cale and Riley started to cry. "Okay, just act like a complete goofball so they know it's supposed to be fun and eventually they'll come around, right?" So I'm out there flopping around in the snow, making snowmen, throwing snowballs at them and...NOTHING. Beneath their hats I could just see two little people staring at me as if I'd lost my mind. Cale couldn't walk because his boots were a little too big and chunky and I'm pretty sure Riley thought she might step into a big crevasse if she put one inch of her foot on the snow. I managed to keep their crying at bay while I put them both in the sled and drug them around our yard for a few times. I caught Cale smiling once so I know he had a little bit of fun but Riley kept a straight face the entire time. I even think I saw her raise an eyebrow at me as if saying, "Mom's lost her mind if she thinks I am going to have any fun at all." Soooo, perhaps they just need a little more time to adjust to the fact that snow is indeed one of the best and most fun things about winter. As for me, my dream of watching my kids make snow angels and try to stick their tongue to something metal will have to wait for another day...

On a side note, today is my dad's birthday!!! If being a parent myself has made me realize anything, it's been how great of parents I had while I was growing up. I honestly could not have dreamed up a better dad. I attribute me choosing such a great husband because of how great my dad is. Seriously, I love him so much and I just wish we lived closer so we could see one another more often. If you're reading this, Dad...HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I love you!

I hope everyone is getting close to completing their Christmas shopping...it's CRAZY out there!!!

First Day of School

When I first began thinking about having children, and even before that, I never put much weight into the concept of "preschool". I honestly thought preschool was just another term for daycare. After having Cale and making the choice to be a stay-at-home mom, I figured he could learn whatever he would at preschool better at home, with me. If left up to me, Cale would not go to preschool. But once we learned Cale would face great challenges developmentally, school flew off my radar. It was my desire to keep Cale locked in a box, safe at home, where the cruelty of other kids could never touch him. I didn't even know what his options for schooling were, anyway. I figured it best to just never really even think about it.

About a year ago, though, the idea of preschool was brought up to me by someone who follows Cale closely through the Child Development Center. From our conversation about preschool, it would be a matter of "when" and not "if" he would attend. Once he turned three, she said, he would be eligible to start. Six months later we started the necessary paperwork but I still wasn't soaking in the reality that he would, one day, go to preschool.

Last month we had two meetings at Jefferson School where Cale would attend. They put him through a series of tests to determine where his strengths and weaknesses were so that they knew how to better serve him. I was becoming more and more comfortable with this idea and began to understand that these people were Cale's allies and that preschool would be of great benefit to him.

Cale turned three last Sunday and today we had our last and final meeting at Cale's school. We developed a plan and a set of goals for his teacher to work towards. He will get speech, physical, and occupational therapy at the school. He will be in a classroom with both normal and "not normal" developing children. His classroom has a pet bunny, lots of different centers such as writing, drama, sensory, art, and reading. It was bright and cheerful and it immediately made me feel at ease when I walked through the door. "Cale is going to LOVE this!" I thought. Right now there is only one other little boy in the class but they expect to get more children soon, but never exceeding twelve. This means lots of one-on-one time for my little boy which I am thrilled about!

After talking a little bit with his soon-to-be teacher she asked if we had any more questions. Naturally, I asked when Cale would start, thinking that we had originally planned for sometime in January after the craziness of the holidays had passed. She asked if he could start as soon as next week. "Next week!" I thought. I obviously was not as comfortable with this idea as I thought because I immediately started to cry. I don't really know the reason behind the tears other than I'm just amazed at how fast kids grow up. I also can't really imagine a chunk out of the day when I'm not with him. For three years I've spent every moment with him and have known exactly what he's done. I've been right there for EVERYTHING and it makes me sad knowing that if he does something well or if he learns a skill for the very first time that I won't be there to clap for him and cheer him on. I suppose that is what will be the hardest thing for me to accept when I drop him off and drive away.

On the other hand, though, he will be learning things that I can't teach him. He will undoubtedly become more independent and maybe, for the first time, I will get to experience the joy Alex does when Cale gets excited to see ME when I pick him up from school! He will make friends and be able to show me what he's learned at the end of each day. I'm excited for that. I will also get a little break during the day and be able to spend some one-on-one time with Riley; something she's never gotten whereas Cale had that for the first twenty months of his life. A little mother-daughter bonding time will be good for my soul.

Cale's first day of school is Tuesday, which means I only have a few days to go school shopping for him. First thing on my list: a backpack! Come on, how cute is Cale going to be with a little backpack strapped to his shoulders?

My Angel

Church was over, the kids were fed, and it was finally my time to go to the gym while our babies slept soundly in their beds for naptime. I love Sundays for this very moment.

Rather than listen to my iPod during my work out, I decided to try reading instead, so I picked up a copy of "Guidepost" that had obviously been flipped through by many people before me because the cover was torn off and I'm pretty sure several of the pages were missing. I decided to give it a try anyway. For those of you who have never heard of Guidepost Magazine, it is very similar to Readers Digest although it is focused on stories of faith and Christ. Today, maybe this is exactly what I need.

I spent about twenty minutes reading heartwarming stories focused around Christmas time and what the spirit of Christmas is really about. These stories made me feel good but it wasn't until I reached page 56 that my heart was truly engaged in the words that were printed on the page. This particular story was about a boy named Josh. Josh had Downs Syndrome and was in the seventh grade. During his schooling, he never went anywhere without his aide. She was there with him during gym class, art, lunch time, and even on the bus ride home. Josh was getting especially excited for a particular Christmas choir concert that was coming up. He worked with a sepearate tutor for many hours that helped prepare Josh to be able to sing on the risers with all of the other students - alone, without his aide. This would be the first major event Josh would be without someone right by his side to help him if he needed it. When it came time for the concert, Josh was very excited. He wore a blue sweater vest and a bright red tie. His parents sat nervously in the audience, praying to God that everything would go smoothly. Josh's aide sat in front of his parents and at one point she reached back and squeezed the mother's hand and tried to calm her fears by telling her Josh was going to do great. The choir started to sing and Josh's mom slowly began to relax as she saw that no one was even noticing the boy in the middle row that was a little off key. She breathed a sigh of relief. But then it was time for the choir students to light their individual candles. It started with one student's candle and then they were supposed to light the candle to the person on their left, and so on. Josh had experssed to his family earlier that he was most excited for this part! When it came time to light Josh's candle, the boy to Josh's right was having a really hard time getting Josh's candle to light. Several awkward seconds passed and the boy got frustrated and gave up on trying to light Josh's candle. Josh's big, warm smile quickly turned to a frown. Josh's mom was in the audience holding back tears and praying, "Why this too? Why does he have to stand out as someone different in this event too? Why can't he just enjoy this one moment?" But just then, the boy on Josh's left tried to light his candle again and when he realized that Josh's candle was not going to light, the boy switched candles with him and gave his to Josh instead. Josh's smile appeared again and his mom and dad were in the audience, weeping, and thanking that boy who had given up his candle for their son. Whoever that boy was, he knew how important it was for Josh to hold a lit candle and he made it happen for Josh.

So here I am, sweating and peddling faster and faster on this bike, and tears are just pouring from my eyes. This story could be Cale someday and I can only pray that he will have friends in his life that will make a self-sacrifice to help Cale in his time of need. I'm sure I looked like an idiot, sweat pouring from my face and mixing with my tears, but today, you see, is Cale's third birthday and so I'm a little more emotional than maybe on a regular day.

My little boy is three years old now. I go back to that day when I woke up, irritated because I knew I was on bedrest and would most likely just being laying in bed all day long until Alex got home from work. I had been up since about 2:00 in the morning experiencing contractions, but given the events that had taken place a week prior, the contractions were nothing new and so I figured laying in bed was the best thing to do. Five hours later and I was wrestling with whether or not to mention to Alex that the contractions were pretty regular and getting a little stronger, about eight minutes apart. I decided not to tell him and let him go to work as planned. After all, he had sat with me in two different hospitals that always told me the same thing: stay on your medication that should hopefully stop the contractions and DON'T MOVE. I would hate to go to the hospital again and waste four more hours of our life just to hear the same thing. Alex left for work and I tried to go back to sleep. Turns out that if you don't close your eyes and just stare at the clock the entire time, sleep isn't really an option. By 9:00 in the morning the contractions are starting to feel different and are now about three minutes apart. I start to panic a little but I still don't call Alex. I wait a little longer, maybe an hour, and decide that something is definitely not right and so I call my husband at work. I tell him what's going on and he tells me to call his mom to have her bring me to the hospital. Some of you may think he's not being very supportive but you have to understand this has happened twice now and we have never gotten any different news. If something indeed had changed, he would be at the hospital in an instant. My mother-in-law came to pick me up, I hobbled downstairs, got into her car and we headed for the hospital. She insisted I use a wheelchair but I refuse. She insists some more and so I give in. I don't really have the energy to put up a good fight. She wheels me down the hall and we wait in the Labor and Delivery Unit for what seems like an hour while they get a room ready for me. The contractions are annoying, not really painful, but we sat outside the nursery and so looking at all of the newborn babies helped keep my mind off of my body and all that was going on. My room was finally ready and they put me on monitors to keep track of my contractions and my baby's heart rate. At this point I am starting to get scared and so my mother-in-law leaves to go down to the gift shop and brings me back a stuffed bear and a few magazines. Keep in mind, I have no idea that having a baby today is even a possibility. I was probably the most naiive pregnant woman on the face of the planet. I try to flip through some of the magazines and then something happens that makes me shoot up in the bed and scream to the nurses that something is wrong. I didn't know until weeks afterwards what had happened right then, but I was later informed that my water had broken. At 31 weeks pregnant, there were all of a sudden a dozen people in my room rushing around and talking very fast with one another. I was scared, crying, and all I wanted was for Alex to be there to hold my hand. Luckily, my mother-in-law is very good with these kinds of situations and she had already put in a call to Alex and within a few minutes he walked through the door. I don't know if it was because I was scared or if it was due to what was happening with my body, but I became so ferociously cold that I clung to the bed rails and shook uncontrollably. I later learned Alex wasn't scared until he saw me shaking like that. A few more minutes passed and my doctor was finally there. She looked at the monitors and after briefly talking with the nurses, she looked at me and said, "We're going to have a baby today." At that moment I burst into tears. I may have been naiive but I knew that it was way too early for my baby boy to be born. I didn't even know if babies could survive being born at 31 weeks. Alex and I were both terribly frightened. Luckily, a neonatologist came in and tried to prepare me for what was about to happen. Cale's hear rate was dropping with each contraction and since he was so little, a C-section would be our only option. I had always desired a natural birth but by this time anything I had imagined was far gone out the window. She told me that he may or may not cry when he's first born but that there will be a team of specialists right there to make sure he's given any medical intervention he might need. I specifically remember her saying that babies born at 31 weeks are a "breeze". She told me not to worry, that everything was going to be fine, and at that very moment I let my grip go from the bed rail, stopped shaking, and looked at Alex and told him I wasn't scared anymore.

At 1:17 PM on November 29, 2006, Cale Alexander Burkhalter was born, weighing 3 lbs and 16 in long. My little peanut. He did indeed cry when they first pulled him from my belly and I will never forget the softness and helplessness in his voice. I saw him for a few seconds before the whisked him to the NICU and it wasn't until 36 hours later that I got to hold him for the very first time.

Today, on November 29, 2009, he's a healthy, happy, wonderfully created three year-old. Some people may look at him and see what's wrong, and no doubt there are days when I, too, focus on what is wrong with him, but today I am reminded that his life is a miracle. Ever since he entered this world he has had to fight for everything. He's experienced more challenges, I believe, in his three years of life than I ever have. And when he was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at six months of age, seeing how far he's come on his thrid birthday brings tears of joy and thankfulness to my eyes.

God is good and He made Cale perfect. In God's eyes, He sees no flaws - only perfection. And today, perfection is all I see, too.

I love you, Sweet Boy. You are my angel.

Life these days

I have spent the last nine, COUNT THEM - NINE, days sick. Boo. It started with a headache, progressed to a full body ache that lasted four or five days, off and on nausea, and then finally tapered off with what seems like a head cold. Today is the first day I haven't taken any Tylenol, Ibuprofen, or Sudafed. Perhaps I'm on the mend...hooray! Although having to take care of my kids during the day was complete misery, my darling husband took them out of the house as soon as he got home from work so that I could just go to bed. Thank goodness for husbands. My respect and sympathy for single moms continues to grow and even more so during these times. I was complaining to Alex during one of my "poor me" moments, laying on the couch, whining about how terrible I felt, and asking him why even though I had prayed to God for this illness to leave my body every day since I felt it coming on, what "good" God was trying to accomplish by not healing me. Alex responded, "it's made me appreciate you more."

Okay. I suppose nine days of sickness was worth it. :)

In other news, in addition to Cale walking, my kids have been absolutely delightful. Each day I find myself giggling at them, trying to catch a glimpse of their play without them noticing, and pausing to just thank the Lord for bringing them into my life. Riley is at a GREAT age; she entertains herself well and walks around the house all day long, jabbering up a storm, and playing games with herself that only she understands. She loves trying to put her own socks and shoes on, or anybody's shoes for that matter, and tries multiple times throughout the day to climb into the dishwasher. She is a bit of stinker when it comes to eating because she wants to be completely independent in this area and also would rather play than take the time to eat, but other than that I really have very little to complain about. She throws fits when I take toys away from her that she's stolen from her brother or friends but seems to get over them rather quickly. She loves wrestling with Cale and watching Thomas the Train with him. They play remarkably well together and for that I am extremely grateful. Cale was a big enough blessing to last my entire life and it just amazes me that He gave me Riley, too. Children are so magnificent!

Even though staying home and raising my kids takes up 99% of my time, I have recently found a couple of outlets that help remind me that I am more than JUST a mom. I have gotten into a rather good routine of waking up around 5:00 in the morning and going to the gym. It started out as a desire to get my body back after having Riley but has since become more therapeutic. I've noticed on the days I don't go to the gym I tend to get a little more crabby a little bit easier. I feel sluggish throughout the day and veer towards focusing on what's NOT going right rather than on what IS going right. Once at the gym, I put on my headphones and spend the next hour and a half listening to playlists consisting of MercyMe, John Waller, Third Day, Jeremy Camp, Casting Crowns, Barlow Girl, and other uplifting artists. It's a time when I can clear my head, pray, vent, or simply spend half an hour on the treadmill and walk away saying, "What in the heck did I just think about for the last thirty minutes?". It's amazingly therapeutic to have that time to just spend with myself. I'm not able to have that time during the day when the kids are demanding my constant energy and attention, and even when they are napping my mind is repeatedly going over what I should be getting done around the house. I think I've mentioned before that it's also amazing to be able to take a shower in peace and blow dry all of my hair, all the while leaving the gym with both eyes wearing mascara. (I can't tell you the amount of times I've noticed mid-day that I forgot to put mascara on the other eye) That is what I call a glorious morning!

I've also been volunteering with the high school youth group up at our church. It's nice to remove myself from my little bubble and be reminded of the things going on outside of it. The kids are hilarious and energetic and I have a whole new and different appreciation for the youth group workers that put up with me for the four years I was in high school. Wow. In addition to helping with that on Wednesday nights, Alex and I help lead a "Life Group" on Thursday nights. Life Groups are basically just small groups of adults that meet at homes throughout the week and discuss a story from the bible. Our life group has some of the greatest people and friends I've ever come across. It's so refreshing to spend time with these kinds of people. We laugh and have fun, all the while devoting time to be serious with one another and care about what's going on each other's lives. It's great. Not to mention that it's two hours kid-free! Hey, those times are important and very much needed!

So that's basically what I've been up to lately. I'm gearing up for Cale's 3rd birthday and getting him ready to start preschool in a few months but more on that later. I'd like to thank everybody that has celebrated and rejoiced with us when Cale started walking! The body of Christ is truly amazing!!!