Drive Thru Prayers

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One morning, one of our sons told us he was too sick to go to school. Knowing there was no immediate sign of illness, I decided to take him to the pediatrician to squelch any lingering questions of the contrary. We saw the doctor who gave him a clean bill of health and a direct pass back to school. (When you have 4, you have to be creative to avoid future endeavors.). But being the softie parent that I was, I decided to ease the pain of returning him straight to school by detouring through the local Sonic. In the drive thru, he ordered and we could audibly make out sniffles and a crackling voice through the speaker. When we arrived to the window to pay, the worker had red eyes from obvious crying. I asked her what was wrong. She said her family member was diagnosed with metastatic melanoma and had a short time left to live. Eyeing our son, I said that we would pray for her and her family member and that we were so sorry for her bad news. She thanked us and we waited for his order. Once we were alone, I remarked to him how important it was that no matter where he was or what he was doing, he needed to be ready for God’s call to intercede and pray for people. Without missing a beat, he turned to me and asked, “Do you think they need any prayer at Burger King?”

STINKIN THINKIN

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“Get Out of Your Own Way” is a song by U2 that by intention, is politically charged, but by title, encompasses what we all need to do. It is a perfectionist’s battle song.

I was once told by a counselor that I needed to conquer the negative voices in my head. She said I needed to replace my detrimental “cassette tape” with a new, positive one. (Obviously the reference is betraying my demographic because it was the 90s.) However, a modern analogy might be to replace the “download.”

We can be our own biggest foe. It’s hard enough having difficulties or enduring painful circumstances then by default, adding insult to injury with negative self- talk. Destructive thinking can be worse than the actual problem or outcome we fear most! We can self-inflict more damage than an army of enemies by believing the inner bully. It is a learned skill to defeat and reprogram the banter from adversarial to realistic. I learned through counseling. It did not come naturally and literally took years. Today, if a hint of negativity whispers in my ear, I can easily relegate it to the “lies” section and move on. I have no energy or time for negative self-indulgence. I have too much to accomplish to be burdened with the impossible weight of self loathing. Amen!

The Hamster Thing

When children reach a certain age, parents oftentimes feel the need to (or the horror of ) having to explain the “birds and the bees.” It’s so uncomfortable that some parents forgo an explanation altogether and just let them learn however comes naturally (or first). Some are taught through elaborate classes put on in church environments (like the wonderful “Created By God” program- I highly recommend) or they may let the back of the bus nerdowells teach (I do not recommend). However the message makes it through, parents can rest assured children have the most literal and imaginative comments. Some of those are such that they bear repeating here….

When our first child, a daughter, had her first speck of interest on the reproductive radar, it was due to a pet (naturally). She had a fat, female, long- haired hamster named Cinnamon. We decided to let her get another. It was a boy named Speedy because he was super quick. That was quite prophetic, we hadn’t yet realized. We knew they had to be separated less we acquire a brood of them. However, nature and nagging got the best of us and we allowed the two to “meet.” They met and met and met. Our precious, innocent child kept asking, “Why does Speedy keep climbing on top of Cinnamon’s back?” At first we weren’t sure what to say. Then the lights went on and we realized she was asking what we eventually needed to enlighten her about anyway. “Well, sweetie, that is how a baby is made, I told her. They are making a baby hamster.” From then on, in our home, reproduction begat the title, “The Hamster Thing.” Another dawning occurred and she asked, “If that is how a baby hamster is made, does it mean a baby is made by daddy climbing on top of your back?” Her simple question deserved a simple answer so I told her yes, she was correct. Within one minute of contemplation and a flash of understanding crossing her face, she abruptly asked, “If you had babies in your tummy twice, does that mean Daddy climbed on your back two times?” She caught me ill equipped and off guard. (How on earth do they do that?) I was panicked for the politically correct and enlightened response and not sure of what to say I said, “Uhm. No, honey, sometimes mommies and daddies have to practice.” Seemingly satisfied with that answer, she was off. Little did we know our cohabiting of hamsters would result in 15 babies, some of which the mama would end up eating, but that is a different story with a whole different problematic explanation.

Normal Is Just A Setting On A Dryer

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I never could figure out what category to put our family in to be able to assess if I was “doing it right.” Should we go in the higher order multiples group (fancy term for triplets or more) or a regular, 4 children family, or the identical (“freak of nature”) and therefore, not assessable category? I mean, I had to find that template or else all would be a loss.

As I knew it, everything I undertook, had to have a measurable outcome and THEN I would know if I was doing a good job or not. This uncharted territory gave me hives. Who had a 20 month old, natural identical boys and 3 preemies 10 weeks early on all kinds of monitors? I didn’t know WHAT I was doing and therefore did what came oh so naturally but self-destructive….I compared myself to others. That easy road was open, wide and welcoming, at first. It seemed harmless enough until I realized I wasn’t fitting into “the norm” that others seemed to be. No one could relate. Nobody at the Multiples Group, nobody at preschool, and no one anywhere as far as I could find. I searched everywhere. I read books. I attended workshops by renowned authors, so called “parenting experts.” I asked all the doctors, nurses, and clergy I could about everything. I wrote letters to authors whose books were about parenting (one author was unfortunately deceased and couldn’t answer my maniacal questions). I was a control freak freaking out that I didn’t know how to handle all of it. I had no idea I was adding insult to injury and trying to complete the impossible. I was like a barefooted hiker trying to summit a mountain in -5 degrees with no experience or supplies. It hadn’t dawned on me yet that maybe NOT knowing was good for me, that maybe my fear of failure and lack of understanding would actually draw me closer to my Creator. I had no idea that normal doesn’t even exist! I later joined a Bible Study and heard the saying that “Normal Is Just A Setting On a Dryer.” That has been my motto ever since. There. Is. No. Normal. We are all just here for a while working out this experience called life and trying to make the best of it. That’s all.

Lady! It’s Just Eggs…..

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I will never forget the feeling I had the day I got the “break” to be able to go grocery shopping with only one of our four, small children. I was thinking how great it was going to be to focus on just him as I did our grocery, weekly run. Equipped with a long list and a happy toddler I got down to business. We had a lot of items stockpiled in our cart as he sat strapped in the front of the cart. I was no fool when I made sure the delicate carton of eggs were placed as far as physically possible away from his tiny grasp. We had made it to the far back of the store and our cart was over flowing. I turned to the left and in a flash saw an 18 carton of eggs go airborne and crash to the floor. All eyes were on me and my precious angel who had arched himself as far as he could just to grasp the flap of the carton. I had placed those eggs as far as the cart would allow. How did he do that? My reaction was, “Omg! I have to clean up all these eggs!” and “I can’t believe I’m here with just ONE KID and THIS happened!!?!?!!” Tears were streaming down my face as I felt massive defeat as a mom and thoroughly embarrassed. An employee took note of my emotional response and said, “Lady, it’s just eggs.” But I was looking at the eggs as the villain that had once again, conquered me and deemed me incapable. Thank God, a fellow church member saw my teary dilemma and helped me to the cashier and car. I didn’t do big grocery store shopping with children for a long time after that.

We Are Not Glass Vase People

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My husband told me when our boys were little that we were not glass vase people. What he meant was that we cannot decorate with anything other that leather, cement or wood. When I put glass anything out as decor, the over/under on it was maybe 3 days. I have found lamps with cracks, vessels in shatters and one interesting item was the picture frame with photo minus all glass. That was easily unnoticeable for a few weeks. Occasionally, the odd item would go missing and I would ask about it and get the most blank expressions from my family.

When our triplet boys were 2 years old, they had nap time. It should have been called “what can we collectively accomplish to blow mom’s mind time,” however. I had their 3 cribs lined up but apart and I would shut the door. Thinking they were apart and couldn’t bother one another, I went to lie down too. What I never could have anticipated was them rocking and rolling their cribs across the floor until they touched so they could all flip into one crib. I heard a loud crash and ran into the room only to find the curtains and all hardware ripped out of the wall piled on the floor. They just looked at me like, “What happened?” Those angelic, little faces were as surprised as I was.

Financially, we’ve had a flat screen punched after a Wii gone wrong game, a chandelier busted from indoor football and the most expensive double paned, window replaced. Those are just items I can remember!

To this day, when I am shopping for our home I try to anticipate the reality of living with whatever it is. It may be beautiful or interesting, but if it’s not durable, it doesn’t make it through the door.

Talk, Don’t Text

Texting has become a very prolific, convenient method to communicate in modern society. It’s ease of use has nearly allowed it to eradicate entering a number to have a person to person, real time conversation. You can even record messages to someone. Notice only the “to” someone- there is no reciprocation. I have succumbed to the text pandemic myself. It’s ease allows me to send information without having to stop whatever I am doing and not get bogged down in a long conversation that may or may not be convenient. It’s become so prevalent that I wonder if people realize its abuse? It’s not that people do it on purpose, but it’s a very lazy way to make your presence known without actually having to do anything. If it’s conveying an address, number, or contact, texting is miraculous. But if you are reaching out to someone regarding a major crisis, don’t text, call! Just pick up your phone and make the phone call. People are bombarded during a crisis and the myriad of questions and condolences are exhausting over text. If you are a close friend or family, here’s a fair warning- don’t text first time. Call or show up. Your friend or family needs help and may not have the time, energy or wherewithal to return your text. It also shows you are too busy in your life to actually be inconvenienced to do anything. Words really are very cheap when pain is involved. I recently had a loved one hospitalized and we had complications that required long travel for medical care and subsequent hospitalizations. The daily text of prayers and questions were kind, yes, but just another “to do” for the caregiver. It’s nice, but empty. Love really is action. I do believe prayers are powerful, but you don’t have to detail that to the caregiver, “just do it” as Nike says.

As I age, I realize that true friends are absolutely a jewel that are precious and few. You don’t need or want daily contact when suffering. You just want a one time hug, meal for the family, errand run or a visit or token to your family member suffering (or whatever the issue is). Just don’t assume your single text has done what you wanted it to do. It seems way too easy and requires no effort whatsoever. Showing up requires the sacrifice of time. Everyone is limited on that resource and we all know it.

Rescue Raccoon?

Our family has an unusual affinity for rescuing animals. Most people think of an animal shelter where one goes and picks from an array of cats and dogs when they say “rescue animal.” Or the melodramatic commercials asking you to donate the price of your daily coffee to the pitiful, sympathy- inducing picture of a dog in a cage. None of that applies to us. My family likes to take home anything it happens upon. For instance, today, my son was working for an outdoor management company and caught a baby raccoon. Soon my phone was blowing up with calls and pics of the little black fur-ball. I had to admit, it surely was a cute sight, but over the years, my rationale has won out. I started visualizing a 30 pound raccoon pilfering through our kitchen at night and scratching up our tiny dogs. No raccoon moving in….

You see, I have come home to a snake, hamsters, fish, hermit crabs, turtles and the odd dog found wandering the road. I handpicked 3 of our 6 dogs at shelters. And one, my children say, will be the end of me if anything happens to it. I wholeheartedly agree. I think God sent that one to help me cope through rearing high schoolers. It rescued me first.

I am all for rescuing when you have the option because a pet is expensive enough without the papers. There are so many animals in need of good homes that I can’t fathom driving cross country to get a So and So breed from the top So and So breeder.

I once succumbed to our daughter’s persistent request for a rabbit. I regret it every time I see another “cocoa puff” that’s turned up. That little white, angelic tuft of fur grew into the most demonic of biting creatures that actually snorted and terrorized our chihuahua. She had to go. But, I always wanted to be the parent who at least gave pets a chance and not always said no for my own convenience. That tactic was both overly generous and masochistic at the same time. Hamsters have babies (not one, but like 15). They also smell and require frequent cage cleanings, as do turtles. We never did get a bird, praise the Lord, but we did actually rescue an injured falcon and delivered it over an hour away to an animal conservation program (on a Friday at 5:00pm). Our altruism wasn’t that well received. But we did it as a family and we tried!

Dobson’s Missing Theory

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James Dobson categorizes childhood behaviors in two ways: childhood irresponsibility and willful defiance. Frustration comes when a parent cannot decide which one (if either) a behavior fits into.

Rearing several boys at once (of the high octane sort) results in an unusual amount of quizzical behaviors. My husband added to Dobson’s theory and titled it “Stupid Sh_t.” As the mother, I agree his terminology is pretty accurate. I mean, what other classification of behavior would a psychologist deem cause a son to put a lizard down his mother’s shirt in Game Stop? Or what other notion could prompt one to climb a tree to hide from a parent for several hours while taking selfies with a squirrel? Not to mention, jog behind a wheelchair holding a brother on a busy road (in the rain)? Or, pile in a wagon to roll down the hill over the bulkhead into the creek (AND video the proof!)?

As much as we sought out resources and guidance in parenting, there is only so much dissecting and evaluation one can do. Sometimes, it really just is “stupid sh_t.”

School Policy

Our family can proudly attest to helping establish two school’s policies on animals brought to school. We were likely the first to bring live animals for show and tell. At a small, Christian school, we brought a snake and raccoon (I believe) and at the public elementary, we brought a snake, a turtle, and an entire litter of mice (possibly a frog or two, as well.). After both of those instances, new school policy letters were promptly delivered to all parents. My sweet husband thought this was thoroughly educational for not only our children, but all the others. He thought them being late to school was nothing compared to teaching the children about the random box turtle or raccoon seen in wildlife. He always had a cage at the ready with him wherever he went. The school principal even dubbed me “mom of the mice.” I don’t think it was endearing either.

We live on a creek that has plenty of fish but my children have never wanted to catch them in the past 18 years. When I asked them one day why they didn’t want to go catch fish like the bass boats did up and down our creek, they said, “We can’t, those are our pets!” e237c0bd-282b-411b-969d-dbf128692ed1-e1530889278842.jpeg

Turtle hunting occupied many afternoons at our house. “Catch and release” was usual protocol but once I counted 18 tiny turtles in an aquarium in my son’s room. It smelled to high heaven and grossed me out but there they remained. I nagged them constantly to wash their hands. It probably didn’t matter as we all had to be salmonella and Ecoli resistant by that point.

I’m embarrassed to say that even though all 4 our children attend college, one son’s snake still resides in our home. I had gone for the weekend to attend our daughter’s Bid Day during her freshman year at the university and came home to a snake aquarium fully established with the rocks, warming light, water and tiny plant decor throughout. I was livid but met with “Well, it’s all set up and he’s been wanting one! We found this baby corn snake in the yard…” Ofcourse, mean mama wasn’t going to win that battle. It had already taken place without me! So, snake sits still, getting bigger and bigger. I have begged my husband to release it but he keeps stalling saying it needs to learn to hunt. I’m not buying it. I think he was the one who wanted the snake from the start.

(Update: June 12- Snake is officially MIA inside our house. I truly can’t make this up. )