Project McChubbin

Project McChubbin

I took Hope to the doctor last week for her (tear...) nine month well baby visit.

Hope has been very healthy besides having a few colds and one ear infection. Isaac had 6ish ear infections and got tubes and her age. Needless to say, I had no worries in regards to her health.

Her height and head circumference were in the 55th and 50th percentiles, respectively. But the doctor was concerned about her weight. She only weighs 14lbs and 15oz. For her age she has literally fallen off the chart. My doctor suggested more formula and more protein rich food.

So immediately the mommy guilt crashes down on me. I worry. I feel like I've given her too many veggies, not enough meat, kept her on my waning supply of breastmilk when she needed formula. Then I look at Isaac, who in my opinion, eats a ton, but you can count all of his ribs. What is she going to say about him next time I go in?

I try to do well in feeding my kids. Isaac eats tons of fruit: blueberries, strawberries, bananas, oranges, applesauce. He loves yogurt, cheese, and peanut butter sandwiches. I try to get him to drink at least 24 oz of whole milk a day, and he even indulges on some high calorie items like pizza and burritos. But he's tiny- just like Hope.

So suffice it to say- I have no idea what I'm doing and if it's wrong or right. I sat at the table with Isaac and prayed that God would give me wisdom and would make my kids adventurous eaters. That he would help me to fatten up my little bean poles in a project that I have codenamed "McChubbin". And as I said "Amen" Isaac looked at my plate and said, "Momma, I bite?" with is his way of asking for a bite. He had never tried what I was eating. God gave me a little glimpse of how much He cares even about the smallest things.

So I am putting my little shrimps in God's hands as I try to do the best I can for them, in their diets as well as on every area of their lives.

And I will say it again: I don't know how I got so lucky. God gave me the most incredible kids in the world, even if they are a little bit scrawny.

Cancer, Quitting, and Other Ponderings-Another List of Randoms

Cancer, Quitting, and Other Ponderings - Another Group of Randoms

One of my favorite things is my last "walk through" of my house before I go to bed. I go in my kids rooms to check on them and say one last little prayer before turning in. Seeing them in such a peaceful state, making their sweet little sleep noises, comforts me.

Sometimes I wish I could have another "secret" blog just simply to write about family/work/church/friend/job/whatever stuff that annoys me. You know, the kind of stuff you are feeling when you make a cryptic facebook status update and no one knows what you really mean?Then I could anonymously vent and feel better. I also wish i had a bunch of readers who would take my side and validate all the injustices I experience in the comments: "That is so unfair." "How rude!" "I can't believe that they were so inconsiderate!" My fictional readers would always have my back. (My grannie always said I was dramatic!) Or I could try and be more Christlike and get over stuff. The secret blog idea is probably much easier than the Christlikeness. What's a girl to do?I'm sure I NEVER annoy any of my previously mentioned groups. Ha!

My stinking dogs have fleas and after 3 rounds of flea meds, the little suckers still WON'T DIE! I'm going crazy, help!

I am having the hardest time losing my "Hope" weight. I have 10 pounds that won't budge. I have been training to run a 5k, trying to eat right and it's not moving. It is discouraging. My metabolism is not what it used to be. RIP pre-baby body.

I am one of the 5 people that did not keep up with the Casey Anthony trial. In the court of public opinion she is guilty but she was found not guilty in court. (Major Jesus juking ahead...) I don't know if she did it. I am not her judge & jury & God is the only one who does know. I am sickened that people will get up in arms over this but give no thought to the MILLIONS of women who have now murdered an entire generation of unborn children. It is tragic that any child should die at the hands of a mother who's duty is to protect. I pray the the scales will fall off of the eyes of so many who are deceived by the lie of sex without consequence.

There is only one barbecue sauce: HEAD COUNTRY. All others are posers.

Facebook drama is so dumb. If you are mad at your kid talk to them. I don't need to know your business. But those of you who are certifiably crazy, keep on posting. Your neuroses and paranoia are entertaining!

My uncle has cancer. My heart is broken and the hurt echoes through the people I love. I can't put it into words adequately. But my cousin, Haley, has done a beautiful job. Visit her blog at www.gracefullyfrank.blogspot.com . Please keep my family in your prayers, this is the fourth time my family has faced cancer. We will do it as we always have: believing that God is good, he has a plan for all our days, and that healing will always come- not always the way we want- but it will happen.

My girl is 9 months old today. She laughs, says "Ma Ma and Da Da" and has started crawling and feeding herself, she has growth two little "puppy" teeth this month. She is a delight and I am so thrilled that God gave her to me. I am thrilled/heartbroken at the progress she is making. I can't wait to see who she becomes.

(Men beware) Speaking of Hope, I am going to be weaning sooner than I want to. I am only producing enough milk for about 2 feedings a day. This makes me sad. I was able to nurse Isaac for a year. I love that precious time with her. I wish it could have lasted longer and I'm not sure why it's so different this time. It's frustrating when I've committed myself so much to doing it. But fortunately I have enough of a stockpile frozen that hopefully when I do bite the bullet that I'll be able to supplement with breastmilk.

My big boy gets smarter all the time, he loves to sing, tell his colors, and quiz me on things. For example: "Momma, what's a duck say?" I answer with: "I don't know, Isaac. What does a duck say?" And then he'll proudly quack. He knows so many animal noises: sloths, Pygmy marmosets, tapirs, gorillas, and all the common ones too- thanks Diego. He makes me laugh. I love his curious heart- he wants to know all the answers. I hope I point him to the only one who has them all.

God is good. That's the best thing.

Grace My Feet, And Faith My Eyes

Today I took a trip to my hometown. I go back several times a year to visit my grandmother.

There are times when I look at my old town and tell myself that I've evolved past what lies there. That I have no ties to the sheltered existence where I had no black/Jewish/not from this country/ DIFFERENT people in my life. That there is no part of me connected to the simplicity of the small place where I grew up.

Sure, it's easy to produce negativity. The vast majority of the homes are decaying, there is very little business and commerce to sustain employment and trade, the tap water is terrifying, and town politics can sometimes be laughable. It can be the butt of many small town jokes and fits every tiny town stereotype.

But I drove in today and before I even made it in to town I passed my grandparents old homeplace on the left side of the highway. Memories of three wheeler rides, cow pastures, and my cousin's broken arm from a wild horse flooded back. On the right side I passed my uncle's land where I took fishing trips and Bigheart Day turtles with my Dad. I passed a memorial marker for the man responsible for giving the world my cousins, Heath and Shawn, God rest his soul. I passed the entrance to the dirt roads leading to my best friend's house where I got whiplash on a trampoline and let a sheep into the house when Rusty the wonderdog went on a rampage. I passed a sign where my friend's name was printed after being crowned Oklahoma's Junior Miss. I was less than a mile from the final resting place of my beloved Pa and my Aunt Karla.

I drove in to see both of my childhood homes who are now raising other children. Remembering the wildflowers in many colors that grew across the street in the yard of an eccentric but fun neighbor, and the pool where I spent hours relaxing and listening to the music that is the background to my sweetest summer memories. I drove past my elementary school where I was in the inaugural class, my high school where I was student council president, and the empty lot where my very first school once stood before being demolished. I looked at the church that was built by hands of my father and grandfathers, where I met God for the first time, and where I said, "I do" to my husband.

I can lie to myself and pretend that I am separate. That I am somehow special because I was able to "get out". But the truth is there are ghosts in every corner and alleyway. The very fiber of my being is rooted there. My views, my thoughts, my heart have been shaped by my years there.

I know I can't ever go home again. I completed my time there many years ago. My parents aren't even there. But even when my last familial tie is severed. No matter how far I go or how much I resist, I am connected. And even though I am not always beaming with pride, there truly is no place like home. And I am so grateful that for 18 years, it was mine.

Worth Fighting For

So. In the news this week some actor, that is 51, married a .......wait for it........ 16 year old!

16?!?!?

Yes, not old enough to vote, driving only for a few weeks, can't buy alcohol or a gun, can't work full time, truant officer if not at school, still young enough to spank, 16!!! Not to mention that this pedophile is probably older than her Dad. Blech!

I am repulsed, disgusted, GROSSED out, but mostly angry. And a little confused.

1) Why is she allowed to date solo? Let alone have permission to get engaged and married. I wasn't even allowed to drive to Tulsa at 16.

2) Where is she hanging out that she would even come in contact with a 51 year old predator that would have opportunity to "woo" her into any type of romantic relationship?

3) Where is this girl's Dad? Any 51 year old trying to get into 16 year old Mindy's pants would have had bullet holes in him courtesy of Mike Harmon. My Dad helped a bully tom-cat meet the Lord just for whipping Smoky, the family cat. A pedophile would have met a worse fate, I'm afraid. Actually, any bad intentioned boy would have had a hard time getting close to me, that's what Dads are supposed to do!

In the Peasant Princess sermon series from Mars Hill church (WHICH IS AMAZING-GO LISTEN TO IT NOW!!!), Mark Driscoll talks about defending your daughters and raising sons who are defenders of women. He speaks of Solomon's wife and her young days as a sister. In Song of Solomon chapter 8, verse 9, her brothers say, "If she is a wall we will build a silver parapet upon it. If she is a door we will enclose it with cedar planks."

Basically, there are 2 types of girls: walls & doors.

Girls who are walls can stand firm against those who would do harm. They aren't easily swayed by cute, smooth talking boys. A parapet is a protective wall at the top where Dads and brothers need to protectively watch who and what might be trying to enter.

Girls who are doors are the ones who are more inclined to let trouble in. They aren't discerning about who they date. They buy into lies about where sexual boundaries are. They let in experiences that ought not happen outside of the marriage bed. For these girls the Dads and brothers need to put planks over the door to keep out 51 year old creepers. They are the defense for a girl that has trouble defending herself.

I was (and am) not perfect, but for the most part I consider myself to be a wall. And I was fortunate enough to have had a father who was pacing my parapet, prayerfully scaring away any boys who shouldn't be there.

Several girls that I love were doors- and sadly did not have Dads and brothers enclosing them with cedar planks. And the creepers came in and stole things that were precious. As a Mom, my heart breaks even more for them now. Sure- different choices could have been made, but had they been more protected, they would not have had the opportunity to make a poor choice in the first place. They were let down and paid the price in a weak moment.

As I prayed over my kids tonight. I prayed for my beautiful, bald headed, innocent, Hope. I prayed that her natural inclination would be that of a wall- a wall stronger than I ever was. And if she isn't, I pray that our family unit will defend her with all that is within us. That she won't buy into lies of "its no big deal/there are no consequences/it feels good right now". I pray that there would be a little baby boy out there in the world that will grow into a man worthy of my family's blessing in 30 or so years. :)

And I prayed for my precocious, silly, innocent, curious, Isaac. I fear for him. Statistically, boys are exposed to pornography by age 11, if not sooner. The thought that his innocence can be so easily taken makes me ill. We watched the movie Antz and had to turn it off because one ant eluded to "erotic fantasies". I refuse to allow those notions into his mind in my home. The world will have ample chances soon enough. "Boys will be boys" is not acceptable. I pray that I will be discerning about his friends, movies, and will vigilantly guard his eyes. I am so grateful that Ryland is such a great role model and champion for having pure eyes and a pure heart, he truly exemplifies what is means to love and respect a woman. I pray that Isaac will also guard and protect Hope from harmful boys, in fact he may be able to spot them better than I can. I am also praying for the girl that will be his bride someday. I pray that her family is protecting her.

I know that they are tiny. I know that I don't ever put them in harm's way. It's amazing that my kids grandparents even pass my babysitting requirements! Ok, not really, but I just don't take risks with my kids. Especially when I see things on the news about children being sexually trafficked for drugs. God help this generation!

Maybe it makes me lame, and prude, and conservative- but I want my kids to have every blessing that there is to be had in their marriages. Ryland is my one and only- I wish I had never even kissed anyone else. I wish I had saved even that only for him. I want my kid's choices to honor God, and to keep them safe. Just as my choice to wait only for Ryland honored God and kept my heart and body safe.

Apologies if this is a tmi post. My heart is a deep ocean of concerns for my kids that I have to give to God daily. I'm sorry if this has been too much "real". But it is what it is. My kids purity will always be worth fighting for.

*Happy Late Father's Day to Mike Harmon, who guarded my wall, and helped me receive the blessings of his hard work in my marriage. Thanks for fighting for me, Dad. I love you.*