For real.

What does it mean to be real?  And why is it so hard?

I've never liked pretenders.  I think the skeptic in me sees them and thinks... 

Okay but what are you really thinking?

We've had quite a bumpy road with Brooklyn, and if you keep up with my blog, that comes as no surprise to you.  My prayer throughout this whole adventure has been that I would stay real. 

I think as a Christian we try sometimes to find a very delicate balance between saying, "I trust God and He is always good so everything is happy all of the time and I have absolutely no reason to be sad" and "I'm really sad but I can't tell anyone because then they will think I don't have faith in God."  I don't want to fall into either of those categories.  I want to be real. 

Do those who claim the name of Christ go through hard times?  Absolutely.  Do they get sad?  You bet.  Is it wrong to be sad?  Heck no.  I'm always encouraged by the story of Jesus and Lazarus.  Lazarus was a dear friend of Jesus who died.  Jesus went to his grave at the urging of his sisters, and He wept.  The scriptures don't say that He shed a few tears... He wept.  The word wept conjures up images of heartbreak.  Or if you are like me, splotchy skin and a really ugly crying face.  The interesting thing to me is that Christ knew His father.  Intimately.  And He trusted Him.  Implicitly.  Yet He wept.

Later, when it came time for Jesus to carry out His purpose in being on earth and the time drew near for him to endure great suffering for us, He was not happy.  He was in anguish.  The accounts say that in His agony, his sweat poured out like blood.  He begged God to change His mind.  And then when He didn't, Jesus submitted to God's will.  He wasn't excited... happy... joyful...nor do I believe He had a smile plastered to His face.  But He chose to walk that road without kicking and screaming.

It is almost comical to me sometimes that we even try to pretend for God.  We thank Him for things that we really aren't thankful for.  We tell Him that He is good when we don't really believe it.  A friend of mine in high school told me once that I didn't have to pretend with God and that I had permission to tell God that I didn't understand.  I remember looking at him wide-eyed and thinking... that would be so disrespectful.  He went on to explain to me that if you read the Psalms, David asks questions of God and asks Him to change His mind repeatedly.  He asks why.  And he was a man after God's own heart.  I remember him saying, "Besides... don't you think God already knows how you really feel?"

I want to be real.  I want to be transparent.
I want to be able to say... this is so hard.  

But then I want to convey that even when I don't see the evidence, I know in my heart that God is indeed good.  And that doesn't mean I'm happy about my circumstances or that I want to go skipping through a meadow rejoicing.  But because I trust in His goodness, I am willing to walk the long road.  I am willing to do the hard things.  Because I know that God loves me.  Deeply.  And that if He allowed something to pass through His hands to me, it was for my good.  And He is changing me. 
Which is, in a way, a reason to rejoice. 
Because He loves me too much to leave me as I am.  

Hallelujah.

Not me.

This did not happen.  I did not go to my daughter's soccer game on Saturday.  She did not play the entire game and then wave me over to tell me that she had a secret to tell me.  She did not lean in close to my ear and whisper, "Mom, I forgot to put on panties today.  My shorts keep getting stuck in my bottom while I'm trying to be a soccer star."  Nope, not me.

Big D and Little D

Monkey see, monkey do???

I can't make this stuff up.

I've always wished that I was witty or quick with comebacks.  I'm not.  At all.

In fact, even in a fight my argument is usually worthless.  Darren and I will be arguing (yes, shocking, I know, but it happens) and he will make a valid point and then mine is usually like, "Well.... well... that's stupid.  And whatever."  And then three hours later I'll think of about a paragraph of really good points that I should have made.  But I'm not quick on my feet.

So you know that when I tell you the following story, there's no way I could make this stuff up.

On Tuesday, Brooklyn was sick.  She'd had a rough weekend, and she kept getting worse.  She was having muscle issues, and falling down a lot.  Then she started holding her belly, doubling over, and screaming.  I took her to the pediatrician's office, but not our pediatrician because she is healing children in Africa right now, but the one filling in for her.  She felt like Brooklyn was really sick and was at risk for some damage to her organs if her body started to shut down from her metabolic issues complicated by the fact that she wasn't eating because something in her belly was bothering her.  So she said she wanted to direct-admit her to the hospital.

I drove her over to the hospital, and of course before we got there she had a massive diaper explosion and quit crying (presumably what was inside needed to come out) and seemed somewhat more content, even though her muscles were still fatigued from the stress on her body.  The wonderful attending physician there (sarcasm, of course) said she looked fine to him and he discharged her.  We just love that physician (again, sarcasm).  I refrained from throwing any punches and took my lethargic child home.

In the meantime, Savannah's bus driver forgot to stop at our house on the way home, at which time she started screaming bloody murder until the driver realized her mistake and turned the bus around.  I never have to worry about that kid speaking up for herself.

Savannah had a soccer game, so I took an unconscious Brooklyn with me to that (I figured if she was going to sleep on my shoulder anyway, I might as well see the game).  On the way home, with two children strapped in the back seat, I saw red and blue lights in my rearview mirror.  What followed was this conversation.

"License and registration please ma'am.  Do you know why I pulled you over?"
"No."
"Ma'am, you were driving 44 in a 55, and your lights aren't even on."
"You would not believe the day I've had."
"You would not believe how many times I've been told that."
"But this is legit.  My daughter was in the hospital today and a guy valet parked my car.  I guess he turned my lights off of "auto" and it really isn't dark yet... just dusky... so I didn't realize they weren't on.  I never turn them on because they always come on by themselves."
"So why were you driving 44 in a 55?"
"Because I thought the speed limit was 45 and you were following me."
"I'm going to run your license."  pause  "Ma'am, have you ever had a ticket before?  you have a lot of positive points on your license."
"No.  I've never been pulled over before."
"Well, I'm going to let you go.  But you need to turn on your lights."
"Thank you.  And I promise I'm not lying about the hospital thing.  My husband is an officer and I wouldn't lie."
"Okay.  Turn on your lights and have a good night."

We arrived home and I had the following conversation with Savannah.
"Did you find your lunch box at school today?"
"Yes!  It was in my cubby where I left it on Friday!"
"Oh good.  Where is it now?"
 "Well, I didn't bring it home.  You just told me to find it."


Ya'll, I can't even make this stuff up.  

National Lampoon's Trip to the Zoo

 Once upon a time, we decided to go with friends to the zoo. 

It would be a fun Saturday trip to entertain the kids.

Or so we thought.

We crammed into a swagger wagon to save on gas money and headed down the road.

We had to stop at least a few times to let the children use the potty.

Some children screamed.

Others argued.  And whined. 

When we arrived at the zoo it was a sweltering 94 degrees and the humidity was approximately 7000 percent.  Or so it felt.  We were sweaty and soaked within minutes.

The children were whiny.

So we decided to eat an early lunch in the shade.

No sooner had we sat down....

...and it began to pour buckets.

It didn't seem to care that zoo lunch cost a fortune.

Or that the only shelter available was a 6 inch ledge.

Brooklyn decided to go to sleep after seeing approximately 2 animals, slept through the entire zoo, and woke up in time to see the last animal.

She may or may not have fallen and skinned both knees, approximately 30 seconds before Savannah also fell.  Overwhelmed with two screaming kids, my husband may have forgotten to set the brakes on the stroller.  We may or may not have been tending to the children and then turned around to see Brooklyn's stroller heading off the trail through the woods with all of our stuff in it.  

Grayson also decided the zoo was overrated.

I didn't get any picture of Austin because, well, he has a camera phobia, so he screamed whenever I got near with the camera.  However, he was present and well behaved. 

Savannah's favorite part of the zoo?  The ice cream. 

Not the animals. 

On the way home, we may or may not have stopped 4 times for her to pee. 

And she may not have gotten buckled back in the last time, let us get on the road for 30 seconds, and then said, "I need to poop.  I only went pee last time." 

All in all, though, I think I laughed more that day than I have in quite a while.  

And it was certainly memorable.

Thanks, Brian and Jessica, for the adventure!  

And thank you, dear blog readers, for joining us for National Lampoon's Trip to the Zoo.

I Dare You.

So what is all of the fuss about this Nerium business?

I'm so glad you asked.

I don't normally advertise for anything or anyone on my blog, but this is just too good for me to stay quiet.  Quit rolling your eyes.  Stay with me for the duration of the post.  Trust me on this one.

I was invited to try Nerium AD and wasn't really interested.  It is marked as an anti-aging cream, and quite frankly I didn't think I needed that.  And I wasn't looking for anything else to do.  But I went along with it because really, what does it hurt to give something a try?

I was in for a surprise.  Nerium AD was an accidental discovery by MD Anderson Cancer Center in Texas.  They were working on a cure for melanoma, and noticed that during their clinical trials, everyone came back looking fantastic.  So they started to think, Hmmm... maybe we are onto something.  The Nerium Oleander extract in their product seemed to be making really awesome things happen to peoples' skin.

After a lot more scientific experimentation and research and clinical trials that I can't even begin to understand, they realized that they had created a miracle cream.  A genuine breakthrough.  For real.  So they debated about what to do about it.  After much consideration, they decided to market it themselves, and Nerium AD was born.

They made it available to the public through direct multilevel marketing.  It is very new and the results and growth are astounding.  Not only that, but the price is very comparable to other products on the market AND 30% of the profits go back to Nerium Biotech Research.  And they have rights to the Nerium Oleander plant so that no other company can duplicate it.

So anyway, I gave it a try.  And I loved it.  Even though I don't have a wrinkled face, people told me that my skin looked softer and smoother.  I started to see breakouts disappear.  I felt like my makeup went on smoother.  And I was hooked.  Not only that, but my husband, who tried it to humor me, really liked it as well.  I moved it one night and then heard him in the bathroom looking through the cabinet.  Then he said, "Hey!  What did you do with that face stuff?!"  And this is coming from the man who uses a bar of soap to shampoo his hair, folks.  

Nerium AD can help get rid of acne, shrink pore size, help with eczema, resolve discoloration, and promises a 20%-60% reduction in fine lines and wrinkles (and that is based on objective clinical studies).  It is amazing.  And I know it sounds unbelievable.  Because not only does it promise all of that, but it comes with a 30-day money back guarantee.  At the risk of sounding like an infomercial... that's a risk-free trial!  AND they are so confident in their results, they request that you take a before picture so you can use it for comparison later.  How many skincare companies are that sure of their results?!

Hold on to your hats.  I haven't even gotten to the best part.  If you refer three customers who sign up for the product, you receive yours free every month that they remain customers.  Breakthrough product in your mailbox... free.  I can live with that.  Besides which, even if I didn't get it free... I've gotta look at my skin the rest of my life.  I'm pretty sure I spent money all of the time on really temporary things like having my nails done or even getting fast food.  So I think I could swing the funds to pay to improve and protect the face I gotta look at in the mirror forever.  But it isn't that hard to get three friends to sign up for the product... because everyone loves it.

So that is my spiel about the incredible Nerium AD product.  I also fell in love with the company.  Besides selling a product they believe in, they encourage servant leadership and honesty.  I truly believe they are real with their employees and customers.  They want people to succeed and they want to improve the lives of others.

So anyway.  That's the real deal, ya'll.  I dare you to try it.  Sign up to be a preferred customer.  If you decide after 29 days and an empty bottle that you aren't happy with it, send it back and get a refund.  Nothing to lose.  And I'm pretty sure you won't hate it.  ;) 

Secret Sorority

Many of you I have never even met face to face, but I've searched you out every day. I've looked for you on the Internet, on playgrounds and in grocery stores. I've become an expert at identifying you. You are well-worn. You are stronger than you ever wanted to be. Your words ring experience, experience you culled with your very heart and soul. You are compassionate beyond the expectations of this
world.

You're my "sisters." Yes, you and I, my friend, are sisters in a sorority. A very elite sorority. We are special. Just like any other sorority, we were chosen to be members. Some of us were invited to join immediately, some not for months or even years. Some of us even tried to refuse membership, but to no avail. We were initiated in neurologist's offices and NICU units, in obstetrician's offices, in emergency rooms.. We were initiated with somber telephone calls, consultations and evaluations.

All of us have one thing in common. Yes, one minute everything was fine. Then, whether it happened in an instant, as it often does, or over the course of a few weeks or months, our entire lives changes. Something wasn't quite right. Then we found ourselves mothers of children with special needs.

We are united, we sisters, regardless of the diversity of our children's special needs. Some are unable to talk, some are unable to walk. Some live in a different world. We do not discriminate against those mothers whose children's needs are not as "special" as our child's. We have mutual respect and empathy for all the women who walk in our shoes.

We are knowledgeable.
We have educated ourselves with whatever materials we could find. We know "the" specialists in the field. We know "the" neurologists, "the" hospitals, "the" wonder drugs, "the" treatments. We know "the" tests that need to be done, we know "the" degenerative and progressive diseases and we hold our breath while our children are tested for them. Without formal education, we could become board certified in neurology, endocrinology and psychiatry.

 We have learned to deal with the rest of the world, even if it means walking away from it. We have tolerated scorn in supermarkets during "tantrums" and gritted our teeth while discipline was advocated by the person behind us in line. We have tolerated inane suggestions and home remedies from well-meaning strangers.

We have tolerated mothers of children without special needs complaining about chicken pox and ear infections. We have learned that many of our closest friends can't understand what it's like to be in our sorority, and don't even want to try.

We have coped with holidays. We have found ways to get our physically handicapped children to the neighbors' front door on Halloween, and we have found ways to help our children form words, "trick or treat". We have accepted that our children with sensory dysfunction will never wear velvet or lace on Christmas. We have painted a canvas of lights and a blazing Yule log with our words for our children. We have pureed turkey on Thanksgiving. We have bought white chocolate bunnies for Easter. And all the while, we have tried to create a festive atmosphere for the rest of our family.

We've gotten up every morning since our journey began wondering how we'd make it through another day, and gone to bed every evening not sure how we did it.

But we, sisters, we keep the faith always. We never stop believing. Our love for our special children and our belief in all that they will achieve in like knows no bounds. We dream of them scoring touchdowns and extra points and home runs. We visualize them running sprints and marathons. We dream of them planting vegetable seeds, riding horses and chopping down trees. We hear their angelic voices singing Christmas carols. We see their palettes smeared with watercolors, and their fingers flying over ivory keys in a concert hall. We are amazed at the grace of their pirouettes. We never, never stop believing in all they will accomplish as they pass through this world.

But in the meantime, my sisters, the most important thing we do, is hold tight to their little hands and together, we special mothers and our special children, reach for the stars. ♥

~Unknown