They are wearing me down.  They make unceasing promises about how good, happy, responsible they will be.  They point out every one they see.  They are willing to make it their ONLY Christmas present.  We got to see Santa when he was on “vacation” at Ocean City this summer and my middle child told Santa he wanted one.  Santa wisely replied, “Santa will have to talk to your Mom and Dad about that.”

A dog.

I worry about having to take it out during the day.  I worry that our home is too small.  I worry that it will disrupt my sleep.  I worry about when we go away.  I worry about barking.  I worry about expenses since we are already looking for things to cut out of our budget.   I worry about my oldest son’s possible allergies.  I worry that I would either want to “take it back” or that I’ll spend the next 14ish years regretting giving into it.

It was so much easier when my younger 2 were afraid of dogs – but now they want one.  It was so much easier when my oldest seemed to have allergic reactions – puffy red itchy eyes – but now not so much.  They were good reasons to not get a dog.  But now my reasons though valid, seem almost petty when I see the joy on their faces when they play with dogs.

My husband, Jeff, would bring one home with him today if I called him and said that I’m on board with the dog idea.  So really, the power lies with me.  But like it is with Spiderman, “With much power comes much responsibility.”  (Ok, maybe not as much power as Spiderman.)  But I definitely feel like this decision has a big impact on their childhood.

So is it yes or is it no?  I don’t know.  And if it’s yes… what kind?  What do we get for a small house.  One that’s easy to take care of, preferably doesn’t bark too much.  One that is “hypoallergenic”.  Any thoughts?  Oh, yeah, I have said that if I do give into a dog, it has to be a cute girl dog that I can dress up since I don’t have any little girls to buy dresses for.

Opinions definitely appreciated here…

♥Becki

Recently, while play-wrestling on the couch, my 7-year-old’s tooth went flying out.  Despite searching through the cushions, under the couch, chair and coffee table and around the carpet, the tooth was not to be found.  Afraid that this disqualified him from a Tooth Fairy visit, he started to get upset.  We quickly comforted him, letting him know that he can leave a note under his pillow instead.  So he did.  And all was OK in his world.

This reminded me of the Tooth Fairy ordeal we had a year ago after he lost his first tooth and an article I wrote at that time for my MOPS newsletter…

“Dear Tooth Fairy, The tooth is in the mailbox.  Please don’t come in the house.  Thanks.”  A couple of weeks ago, that was posted on our front door.  My middle child lost his first tooth.  We were excited for him and brushed off his apprehensive comments throughout the day about the tooth fairy.  Then at about 8:30 the drama began.

As we were getting ready to put the tooth under the pillow, the questions began firing:  What if I’m awake when he comes (apparently our tooth fairy is a he)?  What if I have to go to the bathroom?  What if it wakes me up when he reaches under my pillow?  How big is he?  Do I have to put the tooth under my pillow…

Sensing his brother’s anxiety, my youngest joined in, “I don’t want that tooth fairy in my house!”  None of my answers appeased them.  And the questions quickly turned into full-blown tears about this strange tooth fairy.  My husband, Jeff, had run to the store and wasn’t home.  My oldest child was trying to console them with no luck.  I called my sister and their husband, who they idolize, in the hopes that encouragement from them would calm my boys down – it didn’t.

 Looking at them, I realized I needed to make a choice – find a way to make this OK for them, or tell them the truth and take away the tooth fairy for both of them with this very first tooth.  The easy way would be to just tell them the truth.  And probably a lot of psychologists, parenting experts, and friends would tell me that’s what I should have done.  But instead, I let my creative side flow…

“Well you see boys, tooth fairies are not allowed in your house unless you invite them in.  When you put your tooth under the pillow that is an invitation.  The tooth fairy is not bad and would never hurt you, but he also doesn’t want to scare you.  So let’s put your tooth in the mailbox and leave a note on the door for him.”  The crying slowed and through the remaining sniffles, he smiled at me and said, “OK.”

The boys peacefully went to bed.  I pondered the events.  Did I do the right thing?  I don’t know.  (But he did wake up awfully excited to check the mailbox.)  I have been a mom for almost 10 (since writing this 11) years now, and I know that I’m not an expert.  However, the longer I’ve been a mom the more I realize that most situations don’t have a blanket correct answer for all.  Rather you know your children and you through trial and error figure out what works best for them… and sometimes you have to be a little bit creative!

♥Becki , imperfect Mom

Today I took my baby to his first day of kindergarten.  Such a bittersweet day.  I’m excited for him, I’m excited for this new phase in our life.  But it also comes with a pang of sadness.  I feel like I’ve wished too many days away and now all of a sudden they’re gone.

If you’re a mom, you know the days I’m talking about.  The days that you keep looking at the clock and praying for nap time, and then bed time to come quickly.  The days when you don’t know how you are going to make it through another 5 minutes let alone another 5 hours.  The moments are overwhelming and sometimes unbearable, and you wish them away.  (I’ve often said that a day can feel like an eternity, but a year goes by like the blink of an eye.)

But there’s also the other moments that get wished away simply because you are waiting for the next thing to happen: to sleep through the night, to crawl, to walk, to talk, to go to pre-school, to go to kindergarten, to play sports, to get their license, to go to college…  As we focus on what’s coming next, we sometimes wish away the moments we’re in.

So now, I have 3 boys off to school and am determined to live in the moments and not wish away the days.

♥Becki, imperfect mother of 3 school-age boys!

*First day signs were printed from:  life… your way  http://printables.yourway.net/first-day-of-school-signs/

*Cupcake toppers printed from: The Paper Cupcake http://www.scribd.com/collections/2576683/Back-To-School-2010-Printable-Collection 

My oldest son is so close to “normal” but also so far from it…  and last night I confessed to my husband that sometimes I wished he was either completely “normal” or lower functioning.

He has Asperger’s Syndrome, a high functioning form of Autism.  He can be social – he looks me in the eye, gives me hugs, tells me he loves me, he laughs, he cries, he is able to communicate the really deep thoughts that are going on in his brain, he’s able to be in a regular ed classroom (part of the day), he can get along with other kids (sometimes), he can run and play (although he’d rather be watching TV or playing video games).  For those things, I am very blessed and very thankful.  So why on earth would I wish sometimes that he was lower functioning?

Because he often annoys those around him with his non stop talking about things he’s passionate about that others either don’t care about or know about to the degree that he does.  Because his social awkwardness often comes across as selfish, non caring, rude, and thoughtless.  Because his meltdowns (though not as often as they used to be) are not expected from a 10-year-old.  Because he can obsess about things such as furniture placement or why on earth the school would replace the old playground that he liked better.  Because he’s sloppy and doesn’t respect other people’s property.

I know these don’t seem like reasons to want him to be lower functioning.  But here’s the thing, all of these things cause people, both adults and children alike, to not like him or not want to be around him.  And that breaks my heart.  But what breaks my heart more, is that he wants people to like him.  You see, in my mind, if he were lower functioning, it would be more obvious that he’s not “normal” and people (especially his peers) would be more forgiving of his actions.  As it is, he just comes across as weird or defiant or mean. And in all honesty, I think I’d feel less judged.  Whenever he behaves in a socially unacceptable way, I always feel like people are judging me as a mom and I sometimes feel embarrassed of him – and I hate that!   Also, many lower functioning Aspy (Asperger’s) kids don’t care or don’t realize what others feel about them… and somehow as a girl who used to be very aware of the parties she wasn’t invited to and the kids who didn’t want to be my friend or made fun of me, not realizing seems like a blessing.

I do embrace who he is… he is amazing!  He is loving and insightful and smart and affectionate.  He can be kind and thoughtful and caring and funny.  He is perfectly imperfect and he’s mine and I love him.  But being his mom is not always easy… there is always a balance of trying to figure out what is a discipline issue, what is a training issue, what he can learn, what he can’t, how to hold him accountable to things that make no sense to him and doing all this while trying to keep my emotions in check.

I share this today just to be real and honest.   Because sometimes putting words to feelings is therapeutic, and sometimes somebody else needs to know that there is someone who feels the same way they do.

And also perhaps so that some will be a little more forgiving of him and his actions…

♥Becki, imperfect mother of a special needs child

“God, I know I’m messing up a lot with my kids.  I pray that my mistakes, failures and shortcomings will not be ones that my boys will need to tell a therapist about in 20 years…”  I used to be the best mother ever, I had all the answers, I knew how to handle every situation, I was incredibly patient, loving, kind, and fun… until my oldest son was about 2 months old.

At that point a friend gave me a book to read and I learned that apparently I was not “correctly teaching my son how to sleep”.  From that moment on, I became extremely aware of all my short comings.  For the next 10 years, I have battled feeling like a failure comparing myself to authors of books and magazine articles, comparing myself to friends, comparing myself to strangers in the grocery store and often feeling as if I don’t measure up.

Anytime my imperfect boys misbehaved, clung to my side, went running around wild, said something inappropriate, didn’t say something when an adult talked to them, hit someone, didn’t share, took a toy from someone else, got a bad grade, got a cavity, was mean to another child, watched TV instead of playing outside, had McDonald’s or pizza again for dinner, was reading a Pokemon comic book or “Captain Underpants” instead of “Treasure Island” or some other classic, wiped his nose with his sleeve instead of a tissue, picked his nose, picked his butt, had a dirty face, had hair sticking up all funky, had clothes on that didn’t match, had dirty clothes on, didn’t pick up his toys, cried through the grocery store, cried during church, cried at a birthday party, cried at school, cried when I left him in a child watch, walked through a screen door, broke a ceiling tile, got a bloody nose all over someone’s couch, ripped up someone’s drawing, knocked over someone’s block tower… I felt like a failure of a mom and was positive those offended or around in those situations judged me as such.

Anytime I yelled, spanked or disciplined out of anger instead of calmly and rationally, anytime I let them watch TV while I escaped into a book, anytime I said something that tore them down instead of building them up, anytime I fed them chicken nuggets instead of organic, whole grain fed, free range chicken (that I should bake using a fabulously healthy and delicious Martha Stewart recipe) and french fries instead of some steamed vegetables, anytime that I let them go to bed without brushing and flossing their teeth, anytime I realized my boys hadn’t bathed in at least 4 days, anytime I let them play video games instead of joining them in some educational play… I felt like a failure of a mom and was positive those looking in judged me as such.

So, as you can probably guess, pretty much every day, I can beat myself up and feel like a failure of a mom.  But here’s the thing I use to battle these thoughts… I love my children like crazy, but God loves them even more than I do.  His word says they are the apple of His eye, He delights in them, He knit them together, He works together all things for good for them, they are His masterpiece, His workmanship, He desires that they should not perish but have life, He loves them with an everlasting love, He is their heavenly Daddy.

I’m not just going to let anyone watch my kids.  Rather I am going to make sure they care about my kids, are able and capable and reliable.  So if the God of the Universe loves and cares for my boys more than I do, I’m pretty sure He didn’t mess up by making me their mom, He knew I was the right mother for them… not a perfect mother, but the perfect mother for them to grow into the men he created them to be.

Just even typing that, a reassuring peace comes over me, it’s like feeling God wrap his arms around me and whisper in my ears, “It’s OK, I’m here.”  It’s like hearing God standing on the sidelines as I’m running a race clapping His hands and cheering like crazy, “Run, keep going, you can do it, Go Becki!”  It’s like seeing God pick up the baggage I’m struggling with and He says, “Don’t worry, I got it.”  Such sweet peace…

Now, I know that doesn’t let me off the hook.  I am still accountable as their mom before God.  I still need to be repentant of my failures that are due to sin.  I still need to strive to be the best mom that God created me to be.  But, oh the peace, of knowing that God covers my imperfection with His perfection…

Do you feel like a failure?  Like you don’t measure up?  Do you wonder if God messed up letting you be a mom?  Do you wonder why God hasn’t “allowed” you to be a mom yet if ever?  As I type this, I am praying for you, asking God to cover you in that same reassuring peace He has just covered me in.  I am praying that you know God loves you like crazy, that you are the apple of His eye, that He delights in you, that He knit you together, that He works together all things for good for you, that you are His masterpiece, His workmanship, that He desires that you should not perish but have life, that He loves you with an everlasting love, that He is your heavenly Daddy.

♥Becki, imperfect mother

A friend posted the following as her facebook status: “What not to say to the pregnant lady with 2 hyper kids in line at the grocery store, ‘Do you really want a third?’ A little late for that don’t you think?”  It really got me thinking 2 things: 1. People may think they are funny, but they are just rude and 2. You never know the impact of your words.

Thankfully, my friend, who is a great mother with nice, well-behaved kids by the way, was able to go home, laugh about the comment and post it on Facebook to invite others to laugh as well.  But what if she was feeling like a failure as a mom, what if she was feeling overwhelmed and doubting how she was going to take care of another child, what if she was battling depression, what if that particular comment pushed her over the edge and led her to do something “unthinkable”?

Then I started thinking about the things that are said that our kids hear.  Did her kids hear the woman?  Did they understand what she was implying?  Would they think that perhaps their mom didn’t want to be pregnant or maybe didn’t even want them?  Which then led me to think about the things my kids hear me say.

Do I say things that give them the impression that I don’t like being a mom, let alone their mom?  Through our life, we can probably all remember something that was said (whether from a parent, a classmate, a boyfriend, a spouse…) that made us feel unwanted.  Maybe it was said in jest, maybe it was said in anger, but whatever the motive it hurt.  I can remember the sting, I can remember how it feels.

My new resolution is that my children will not hear this from my lips.  Because they are wanted.  They misbehave sometimes.  Sometimes I need a break.  (This week I’m counting down the days until Thursday when I go away with just the girls to a MOPS convention in Nashville.)  But they are wanted, I love them, they are mine and I wouldn’t change it.  And I don’t want them to think I feel otherwise.  I also want to be their defenders.  If someone says a comment like that to me… which occasionally their behavior in public would warrant such a comment… I want to have a comeback that shows my kids just how much I love them.  I’m thinking my reply would be, “Absolutely, I want another.  I love my children and they bring me great joy.”  (Of course I can correct them later for their behavior…)  

♥Becki, imperfect mother