Happy Anniversary!

Yesterday was Dave and I's THIRD anniversary!  I seriously feel like we've been on a ride since day ONE.  And that we should have been married for like ten years instead of three -- I mean, in the last three years we have had three children, Dave graduated, we bought a condo, remodeled it from the ground up, bought a car, moved to California, went through sickness and surgery until I can't even talk about it anymore - the list is endless.  And all in JUST THREE YEARS?

And of all the amazing things I could talk about that we have experienced together, there is one thing that I learned on our date last night:

There is nowhere more calming, comforting, peaceful, secure, the list goes on and on - than in Dave's arms.  We sat on the sofa and watched a movie for the first time in months - MONTHS.  There weren't kids running around or dodging in between us or pushing one or the other of us away to have their own cuddle time with Mommy/Daddy.  There weren't fires to put out, messes to clean up, fights to stop, toys to return, time-outs to get through, temper tantrums, high-pitched squeals or cries or laughter or whatever.  There wasn't a welcome but draining dinner guest or game guest or other type of guest to keep our attention at least partially diverted from each other to focus on our visitors and play the role of host and hostess.  There was nothing but us and the movie (until Brianna got hungry, but even she fit very nicely into my little moment of bliss).

And with all my talk of dating before Brianna was born, we somehow forgot completely to date -- or perhaps just the fact that the number one ingredient in our dates is uninterrupted time spent together.

But I have to say that - well, starting at the very beginning is a very good place to start.  And this was the beginning of all future anniversary celebrations.  What a blessing!

'Tis the Season

It's been a hard last four months, but today I want to write about how watchful and mindful of us the Lord has been.

Remember when I was in Boise with sick kids, waiting for Dave to recover and trying to get home?  He got a call one afternoon that essentially told him that if he didn't drill by the end of that day, he was being discharged from the National Guard.  Which led to me getting a call from my husband that I better not take the kids to the doctor until future notice.  I called the insurance and verified that we did, in fact, lose all coverage effective the date of discharge.  And I cried.  A lot.  There were other unknowns and are other repercussions of his discharge that came with it, but nothing hit me as hard as losing health insurance.

A few weeks went by.  Dave called and left messages, trying to find out what was going on, when his discharge day was, if he had already been discharged, etc. And we never heard back.  Then Abby got sick.  So Dave went on base and got into his records and found out he hadn't been discharged yet.  So I took her to the doctor.  Then I got sick.  Then Isaac.  Each time, it was okay, we were still on, we could still go to the doctor.  Then one day a woman called and told Dave that his official discharge date was Dec. 20.  And she apologized left and right for the way it had all been handled and the lack of communication on their end.

That was great until Tuesday when Isaac and Abby were diagnosed with chronic ear infections -- meaning there is fluid on their ears that won't go away with antibiotics and has to be manually drained in an outpatient surgery when they put tubes in their ears.  We were referred to a doctor, she couldn't get us in until January.  We had planned on switching insurances in January, so we thought - "No big deal, we'll just wait until the new insurance kicks in and get it taken care of then."  Then Abby woke up crying this morning and told me, "Mommy, ear hurt, need go to doctor."

Great.  So we have two children with ear infections that won't respond to antibiotics, fluid that is building up and causing them extreme discomfort/intolerable pain, a doctor that can't see us until January, insurance that ends on Sunday.  I called the doctor back and said that I needed some help knowing what my options are and what I should do with these two toddlers.  She called back and told me to try another ENT Specialist.  So I called, and they can get me in tomorrow; however, THURSDAY (today) is the doctor's surgery day, so the soonest they could get operated on would be next Thursday, which is only if the hospital has room on the schedule to put in two more patients.  And, either way, we won't have insurance.  The nurse at the ENT specialist's office also told me the worst-case scenario is that the fluid will build until the ear drum breaks and the fluid comes out.  And the ear drum will generally heal itself, we would just probably need antibiotic drops to get the kids through it, which without insurance would cost us around $260 for the two kids.  Do-able.  Not favorable, but do-able.  She explained the protocol for taking care of the kids if the ear drums did break, bathing procedures, etc., and said that without surgery a broken ear drum could, in the long run, lead to hearing damage/loss.  I listened to it all and took notes on everything she said -- worried, relieved, etc. Though in my mind I was already crying at the thought of watching them go through that much pain for that long until the drum just broke on its own.  I went ahead and got them the appointment for tomorrow.

And then I did what any good parent would do and started to pray HARD.  I called and told Dave what had happened and asked him if could please try to get in touch with the Sergeant in charge of his discharge and see if, by some chance, the paperwork had fallen through the cracks again or they were waiting on someone to get back from vacation and it hadn't been signed or SOMETHING that might make it so we had insurance longer than the previously-established date of December 20.

And I called my mom who urged me to talk to Dave's work and see if, since he had involuntarily lost insurance coverage, there was a way to get on insurance prior to the date they had given him already.

I was about to go and look up a number to call when Dave called me and said, "Um - so I talked to Sgt. ???????, and we have coverage until December 31, at least, possibly longer than that.  She said she can't guarantee coverage past that, but she can guarantee we will have it until December 31."  I was speechless and got out something like, "How?  Why?"  And he said she was basically holding it for signatures through that date as a favor to us because of this situation and -- I think -- because she still felt bad about the lack of communication throughout all of this.

Or maybe you can scratch all of the above - or loop it all together - and just say that Heavenly Father needed me to know today that He is still aware of ME and is watching out for us because He knows we are doing all we can do.  And that is the story I am sure I can join with countless others this holiday season as many people see and feel the hand of the Lord and His miracles in their lives.

But you know what?  I don't think it's limited to this season.  I think this is just the time when we have eyes to see and ears to hear.  And I hope I can do better at seeing and hearing all the time to take note of and offer thanks for the miracles that happen in my life, and the lives of those I love, EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

Update 12/17: We went to the ENT Specialist this morning and have surgery scheduled for next Thursday, Dec. 23.  I am incredibly nervous as a mother - it is going to be so hard to see them go through all of the pre-op stuff and get put to sleep.  And I know they are going to seriously FREAK OUT!  I'm crying already at the thought.  BUT, I also know that this will be the end to a LOT of misery and pain and sleepless nights.  And for that, I am so thankful for modern medicine and that they don't have to get to the point of having so much fluid build up that their eardrums break on their own.  They'll be able to hear better and sleep better and not have Tylenol and Ibuprofen on the top of their best friends forever list.  After last night's tears and cries all night from Abigail, I think that would be even more miserable to watch.

When Daddy Comes Home

I don't know if I've ever written a post about this or not, because it somehow seems familiar to me.  Maybe I've just written it a few times in my head.

This is a tribute to David as Daddy in our home.  My children LOVE him.  They really, really love him.  And it's no wonder why - he's a pretty lovable guy.  But what has hit me lately is how much he is a PART of them.  There's the age-old debate about whether we are more of a consequence of nature or nurture.  And I don't know that it is an either/or answer.  But I definitely see and feel the nurture part of David in my children.

For example, it's prayer time.  The kids are ti-i-red, and so are we.  As we round up overnight diapers and pajamas and milk and scriptures, they sometimes get more and more rowdy by the second.  Pretty soon, they are running around the house, jumping on their beds, and - BAM - Abby tackles Isaac, screaming, "Tackle" and laughing as loud as she can.  Isaac reacts in one of two ways: He laughs OR he cries.  Not a real cry, but a cry that he thinks is going to get him attention, or at least annoy his sister who just literally PINNED him to the ground in a millisecond!  Abby's reaction to him laughing or crying is usually the same - tackle him again as fast as she can and let out yet another squeal of triumph!

She gets that from Daddy.

Or when Abby and Isaac are mutually playing tackle and loving it.  Suddenly, Isaac lifts Abby's shirt up and bites her on the stomach.  Initial reaction of most toddler mom's: Biting stage, explain biting is wrong, have some sort of punishment, and hope it sticks in.  Not so in our house.  That WAS my initial reaction until an image flashed before my eyes as I was moving to act on my impulse.  The image was one of Daddy coming home from work, tackling the kids, then scooping them up in his arms and pretending to eat them like corn on the cob, tickling their sides with his teeth in the process.

He learned that from Daddy. He's a little sketchy in the particulars, but the general idea was right there.

Or when you're sitting on the sofa, feeding a newborn or reading or typing or whatever.  Suddenly Abby comes up and starts to tickle you as hard and as fast as she can, yelling, "Tickle, tickle, tickle!"  Mostly it hurts, but the concept is there.  And she's laughing as if she were the one being tickled the whole time she's doing it.

She gets tickle wars from Daddy.

Or when we're sitting at the dinner table tonight and Abby, who asked me to help her eat her food, begins to chant, "Chuga tuga tuga tuga woo woo" as I go to put food in her mouth.  Then, just as I'm about to put the spoon into her mouth, she yells, "Stop!  No!  Horsey! Ee up Ee up Ee up -- (whinnies) Ee up Ee up Ee up -- (whinnies)."

She gets that mostly from Daddy.

Or when you go to put food in Isaac's mouth and he pretends to take a big bite and then chew it - over-emphasized chewing of the food that is still sitting on the spoon.  Yes, that also comes from Daddy when Daddy is trying to get them to eat and says, "Okay - Daddy take a bite, Isaac take a bite.  Ready, Daddy (insert fake bite and exaggerated chewing) - and now Isaac (typically insert real bite and chewing -- until recently when he figured it out)."  And he does it with that teasing, silently laughing twinkle in his eye.  He gets that one from Daddy as well.

My kids have the gift of laughter.  And they get a LOT of it from their Daddy!  He plays with them, teases them, wrestles with them. tackles them, tickles them, and loves, loves, loves them.  And seeing and feeling HIM in THEM always makes me smile . . . or laugh . . . (or cry when they get a little TOO into their rough and tumble play).  But always makes me so grateful that they have a daddy like him!

Prayer of the Children

Can you hear the prayer of the children on bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown room? Empty eyes with no more tears to cry turning heavenward toward the light.
Last night the kids were so moody and wound up that we decided, after a lot of attempts to get them settled down, some yelling and spanking for them not listening, some time-outs, etc., etc., etc. - to split them up and have one-on-one prayer with them.  Isaac and David had banged heads a little more than he and I had, so I took a broken-hearted and overtired Isaac into his room to have prayer while Daddy got a hyper-active, bouncing off the walls Abby.

When we entered his room, he immediately knelt down on the floor.  I followed suit.  He climbed up on my lap for a minute, and I gave him a hug, and then he knelt down in front of me and said,

"Dear Heavenly Father - thank oo this day, please bless Isaac, no more spankins, in the name of Jesus Kist - Awmen."

It was all said very quietly, through a few leftover sobs.  I was speechless.  I didn't even say amen because I didn't know what to say.  His tired, tearful blue eyes looked up at me.  He climbed up on my lap and got another hug and then quickly knelt back down and said his normal prayer. 

During all of this, I hadn't said anything.  And I realized he probably noticed I didn't say amen and decided he hadn't said his prayer right and needed to say it again.  I softly said amen this time, not wanting to send the wrong message, and pulled him into a big hug and told him I had loved BOTH of his prayers and was very proud of him and that we had had a really hard night but we loved him very, VERY much. 

He got right into bed, and I went to find his cup of milk.  And paused en route to tell his daddy what he had just prayed.  Then Daddy took a minute to go in and talk to his tender-hearted little boy.  He left Isaac laughing, smiling, and Isaac returned David's "I love you" with "Yuv you" - which has become less common as an immediate response lately.

Can you hear the prayers of the children?  They're walking through the shadows of so many unknown rooms, trying to figure out what it's all about, what their boundaries are, what their voices are, what they can do and what it's okay to feel and when it's okay to just say now or no or enough or "I no want it" or stop or help or "please bless Isaac, no more spankins."

I was amazed and so thankful that my little two-year-old has already learned the concept of prayer and asking for what is in your heart.  Because I know from so many experiences that THAT is what will get him out of those shadows.  That THAT is what will put him in tune with the LIGHT that he will need in unknown rooms my crazy imagination hasn't even visualized.  And I know that he has just reminded ME of this fact because sometimes I forget.

And I know we make so many mistakes along the way with him - with both of them - with each other, even.  But I guess that's what walking through and kneeling in unknown shadows is all about - learning, gaining enlightenment, coming to know -- know our limitations, know our strengths; know our hearts, know our way, know when to crawl, when to walk, and when to stop and kneel; know how to rise and walk and apologize and laugh and love and sleep and wake and try again -- another day.

And all this speechless mommy can say to this whole experience is: Amen, Isaac!  Amen.