The Other Shoe Fell

We had a series of unfortunate events unfold the other night, resulting in one very distraught boy.
It all began when Ben and Jude were in the back yard, as Ben was grilling out, and Layla was standing at the back door watching. Jude was jumping off his slide and Layla started cracking up, the kind of belly laugh that affirms your belief in God, because only He could create something so sublime. Jude and Ben could hear her laughing through the door, even though it was closed and so they the began The Performance. Jude continued with the sure-fire jumping trick, which produced more and more laughter. Ben, wanting to contribute to the fun, started his own silly jumping, which inadvertently cause his flip flops to be tossed behind him. Jackpot. Because now, not only was Layla still cracking up, but Jude found this hilarious and joined in with his own divine laughter. This was all the encouragement that my dear husband needed to continue this crazy kick-behind-him-jumping over and over... and over. Did you know that young children don't tire of bits as easily as adults do? They are an endless abyss of laughter and delight just waiting to be tapped.
And so, in the midst of the joyous delirium, Ben over-zealously kicked his flip flop behind him and over the fence into our neighbor's yard. I found this to be quite amusing. Ben had a timid look on his face as he went to climb over the fence to ascertain if he could retrieve his shoe. Just then, two giant snarling german shepherds jumped up to greet him. Because, you see, those are our neighbor, Miss Terry's dogs and even though we have been neighbors for nearly five years, they don't trust, or apparently even like, Ben. That was the last time Ben saw his shoe.
The unsettling realization that Daddy may have lost his shoe forever hit Jude like a ton of bricks. The tears began. The mourning had commenced. And so, once again, Ben tried to find his shoe. This time he had Jude on his shoulders and climbed up on Jude's playground to get a better look. The dogs had not changed their minds about this guy and tried to bite his face mid-air. In the ensuing chaos, Jude's poor little foot was attacked by the fence and he was the recipient of no less than five splinters (don't get me started on the "Removing the Splinters Debacle"). Talk about kicking him when's he's down.
Ben decided to try another tactic. He and Jude went to knock on Miss Terry's door, to ask if she could retrieve his shoe. She was not home; Jude became even more distressed. And so, for the next few hours, Ben and I tried to coax Jude down from his state of sorrow. We are fairly certain the shoe is currently being digested by The Snarlers. Jude finally accepted the fact that it's gone, and seems to be comforted by the fact that Daddy will get new shoes.
It's amazing how life can go from pure delight to panicked hysteria at the drop of a hat... or should I say, shoe.

Lost in Motherhood

I'm considering beginning the weaning process. This is a difficult decision to make this time around. Jude made it easy; he made it physically impossible for me to continue (I'll spare you the gory details), but this time... sigh.
Ben and I have tickets to a Jack Johnson concert next month in Dallas, and our plan has been to leave the kids. Currently, that would be impossible. But I really want to make it possible. I need a break... I need to feel like a human with functions and meaning beyond feeding, cleaning, nurturing. I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining, because I LOVE staying home with my kids and spending much of my time on the aforementioned tasks. But recently I've been realizing that I have to fill up my tank. I've gotten a little lost in motherhood in the last 3 1/2 years. I'm just now getting to the point where I feel like I have to take care of myself better, in order to be a better mother. Intellectually, I have always known this, but I am now at a place where I have to enforce this. I don't know if this makes sense to anyone else, but it's almost easier to put my family first, to make sure they're comfortable and taken care of before even starting to think about myself.
With Layla, I have left her side so very rarely, that she doesn't function well without me. And I am still very much her main nutritional source, so she's that much more dependent. She won't take a bottle or even formula in a sippy. I blame myself for most of this. I let what she wanted dictate what we did; therefore, she has been attached to Mommy since birth. And now... Mommy needs a respite.
And yet, there's a part of me that doesn't want to wean her; I love the closeness, the bond. And she loves it. Is it cruel to wean for my own convenience? She will be a year next month...
Also, Ben and I have never taken a trip together without the children. It's time for a Mommy and Daddy break. It will only be about a day and a half and yet, I worry so much about leaving. I worry about the person taking care of the kids (not sure yet who that will be) and I worry about the kids being okay. Layla is still not sleeping through the night, and I just don't know how that would work if I wasn't there. Jude will be fine, but Layla. Oy. I just don't know.
And so, my predicament. Any suggestions?

See Point One

A few things:

1. I am feeling IMPATIENT with my son recently. Could it be that I have actually lost some of my patience reserve or has he become more patience-zapping? Either way, sorry son.

2. I have been feeling like there's an echo in my house, but it's just my three-year-old repeating what I say. Periodically, he goes on an echoing crusade, following me around and mimicking me. It's kind of cute, but I have a vision of me losing my mind because of it in the future (see point one).

3. The boy has also recently taken to correcting me, his dear mother, the one who birthed him. Anytime I make a mistake, stutter or forget a word (which unfortunately seems to happen often), he takes great pleasure in correcting me or pointing out my mistake. Example:

Me: "Jude would you put your car... er, boat away please?"
Jude: "You said car!" (self-righteous chuckle)
Me: "Ha ha, I know... I meant boat." (silently annoyed, see point one)

4. Layla has begun screeching and protesting when something that she is playing with/chewing on (one and the same currently) is taken away. She is quite vocal and I believe that she is already learning things from her brother, things I don't necessarily want her to.

Excuse me, I have to go take my son's head off (again, see point one)...

The Twilight Zone

I have what may be an unpopular subject to address. I know that most people don't like to read soapbox blogs, and I'll try to avoid the (perhaps not-so) subtle ascent onto mine, but there's something that has been on my mind.
Twilight is a teen phenomenon, we all know, but it has certainly become an across-the-board female pop culture phenomenon as well. I, myself, read the books a couple of years ago, and greatly enjoyed them. I will admit that at first, I was enraptured with the story and well, that has faded with time. I still enjoy the movies, but... eh. What disturbs me is what I'm hearing about people's obsessions with this series, and how it has affected some women's marriages and relationships. This fictional vampire love story is causing divorces!
I started thinking about the feelings I had when reading the books, the excitement, the butterflies, diving headfirst into this all-encompassing love affair. I am concerned with the portrayal of love in our media, and society in general. I believe that women are so drawn to this image because we believe that is what true love looks like. And if we aren't doughy-eyed, burning with love and lust at all times, then aren't we missing something? Maybe what we have isn't true love... maybe we're with the wrong person.
ARRGH! (At the risk of sounding pirate-like, that's my expression of frustration and exasperation)
Admittedly, there were times, a younger, more naive me bought into these lies. You know what I realized? After the butterflies dissipated, I had a choice. I could commit, choose to love, and work on my relationship every day. Or, I could move on and chase the butterflies. Because the butterflies will inevitably be there in the beginning, but just as certainly one day they will fly away. They are fleeting little creatures, beautiful though they are.
We have been inundated with the idea that passion, intensity, insatiable lust and excitement are the hallmark of true love. I am here to say, NO. Love is... well, love is patient, love is kind, love doesn't envy, doesn't boast, isn't proud, it's not rude or self-seeking, not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. It doesn't delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (1 Cor. 13)
This passage isn't just about God's love for us, and our love for others, but I believe this encompasses what healthy romantic love is as well. Read it again. What would a marriage look like if these were it's hallmarks?
I can tell you that I know, firsthand, what it feels like to be loved like this. I am so fortunate, blessed, to be married to a man that exemplifies what love really is, and I am learning from him. I feel secure, I feel desired, I feel loved. And, at times I do still experience the butterflies and excitement, but there is so much more than that. It is because of him that a great marriage has just gotten better and better as time goes by (going on 7 years!)...
I guess I'm tired of divorce being more prevalent than lasting marriages. I'm tired of the media drawing a false picture of love, and the ripple effect of discontentment in the hearts of women. Let's see these books and movies for what they are: works of fiction designed to tug at our hearts and entertain us.

Downpour

I was sitting in my tub, surrounded by water, but feeling dry. Spiritually dry. This dry spell seems to be lasting, and I'm ready for the rain. And so I decided to go through the motions of reading my bible, even though the energy was not there.
I starting reading Psalm 119 aloud. This is the longest Psalm, and at first I was reading out loud so that the words would take on a real meaning; sometimes I do that for emphasis. But as I spoke the words, it began to come alive in my heart. This psalm is about keeping God's commands, following His words, His law, and the blessing that flows from this. By the time I got to the end of this chapter, I felt the Holy Spirit speaking. I will experience dryness, lethargy, in my spiritual walk, but I am to go to His word for life, and I am to do what His word says, even when I'm lacking the energy. Sometimes I must take the steps, even if my legs feel useless. And when I got to the end of the chapter, I felt that the words were written for me:

"Invigorate my soul so I can praise you well,
use your decrees to put iron in my soul.
And should I wander off like a lost sheep - seek me!
I'll recognize the sound of your voice."

Since I started this post, it has begun to rain outside. Sometimes, you feel a nudge.

Some Thoughts

1. Watching your 3-year-old watch himself in the mirror is priceless, he becomes so self-aware. The expressions he makes, the things he says, just to see how his face looks when he says it - it's awesome.

2. Don't tell a 3-year-old about a vacation to Disney World you're planning on taking in 4 months. Said 3-year-old will begin asking every day when you are going to Disney. What intelligent parent would make that mistake? It's just common sense...

3. I think Jude will be a scientist. He always conducting tests to see where Layla's pain threshold is and how much of his weight her body can tolerate before she cries out. Very empirical, these tests.

4. When you have a curious 10-month-old, it is wise to begin a more frequent vacuuming and mopping regiment. The things I've found in Layla's mouth would disturb you.

5. I'm kind of a Fourth of July grinch. Fireworks going off late into the night annoy me. (I don't think it would bother me as much if I didn't have children, but I could be wrong.) Also, I don't want my kids playing with fireworks. I've heard too many burn/explosion stories. Ergo, I am happy when the 5th of July rolls around. This doesn't mean that, if I could, I would sneak into all the unsuspecting children's homes in the middle of the night and steal their fireworks. Necessarily.