Twas the Night Before Christmas......

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prepped and Ready

Santa's countdown to Christmas beard is filling in nicely.

 The tree has been decorated. Twice. Stupid lights.

 The kids are on a sugar high that should last well into the new year.

Reindeer food has been prepared with extra glitter so the reindeer can more easily locate it.

Christmas eve service has already been attended. Sigh. Local churches aren't offering them this year on Christmas Eve. Sad. 

 

9 Years Later

 

Dear M,
I pray for you. Often. I love you. I struggle with you even though it's been years since our paths last crossed. You gave me a beautiful gift after choosing me to be your son's forever mom. You chose me. You said God chose me and I think He did too. You made choices though that were detrimental to our relationship. You lied to me even though we were friends.

 Your family was always welcome in my home so I have scrapbooks full of photos of our children growing up together; your beautiful children. I look into their eyes and wonder what their world looks like now and what it was really like then. When you told me my son was going to be born early as result of your drug abuse, I was first concerned for you. You never let on that drugs were a part of your life and yet, my sweet Ryan was going to be born way too early, malnourished and drug addicted. I prayed with you and forgave you. I begged you to get clean for those other children I also loved. They needed their mom. Do you remember that conversation? Your doctors were present. They pleaded with you to tell me the truth, the truth that changed too many times in the next week and a half. To this day, I can take anything but being lied to. No matter how hard the truth, I want to hear it. I have heard hard truth. Truth that my precious baby was going to die as a result of your choices. Truth that my relationship with his birth mom was based exclusively on lies.

I had nine amazing, busy days with Ryan. I treasure those memories. He was tough, determined and feisty. He had a lot of your personality. As his birthday approaches each year, I struggle but it has gotten easier as the years have passed. It still hurts, just not as severely.

 

 

 

I no longer get as angry when demands of the season can't be quieted. I spent years trying to make people see the reason for this season is to stop and reflect on the amazing sacrifice made on our behalf by a precious baby and yet, in reality, Christmas traditions were going to be celebrated that year despite a helpless baby in the hospital.

 As his forever mom, it is my responsibility to make sure he's never forgotten. I note his birthday every year with our family, retelling his story and reiterating how our decisions effect others. None of this is done in anger toward you, but we do talk about you. We talk about your drug usage during your teen years and how drugs forever changed who you would become. We talk about the damage drugs have done to you and your family. We discuss how to love you even though you hurt us. I naively desired a happy ending during those days immediately following his death. I wanted you to be healthy and clean. I needed your children to grow up in a loving home with you as their mom. Now, I simply pray my teens will stay sober because they've learned a painful lesson about choices and consequences. As much as I wish I could have shielded them, I do believe God can and will continue to use Ryan's life to make a difference in theirs. Perhaps he already has.

 

 

 I just wish we could have had the happy ending and I was sending you birthday photos, like we agreed. I am afraid our celebrations would pain you more than me. I would never do that to you. I pray you've found the strength to forgive yourself. I fear you have not. I know you still fight the demons and the drugs. I want you to win this battle. I pray for peace over you. In closing, I want you to know I will be happy this Christmas. I plan to allow God's healing over the brokenness my heart feels every year as I balance celebrations and memories. I hope you can too. In His Love, Sherri

Oh boy.

This little boy of mine is rather endearing at times like these and it's a good thing we have these moments because they redeem the moments that are the complete opposite of adorable. It was not a good mommy day. It was not a good day to be three either. If I were watching me in public with this child, I would have been thinking, "get a grip lady and let that kid know who's in charge around here". Yes, I would. I am not proud of my judgemental attitude or the way I carried him out of the barber shop in a football hold while he screamed after a 45 minute wait for a haircut he then refused. Sigh.

Front Line Teachers

Our weather lately has been a lot like my moods, swinging from one crazy extreme to another. Yesterday we had two thunderstorms, hail and in the middle of it all, a gorgeous rainbow. Snow and ice are in the forecast while we are out in tee shirts. December has done a lot of showing off this year.

I have been processing the shooting in Connecticut. I still cannot put into words how I feel. I don't know that I am supposed to have words for something so terrifying, horrific and sad. I can; however, share my thoughts on teachers. My dad was in the air force as I grew up so moving was a constant in my life. I have had more than my fair share of new schools and teachers. Looking back, I have memories of favorites and not so favorites. With five kids, I have also had relationships with teachers from a parental stand point. Once again, there are favorites and a few I prefer to not work alongside again but I will say there isn't a single one out there I don't believe wouldn't have stepped in front of a gunman to protect their students. I pray none of them ever have to.

In reality, our teachers are in the front lines daily. My eyes have been opened to this truth more so in the Montessori school because they welcome families to participate in their learners' education. As a family, we commit to volunteering a minimum of ten hours per year so we are involved and better understand the philosophy. In getting to know my kids' teachers, I have witnessed their compassion toward hurting kids. They have to maintain professionalism when faced with parents who are anything but parents. They struggle with the Momma bears who believe their cubs are perfect. The poverty stricken, drug addicted and struggling families are a package deal. Our teachers are in the front lines every day loving on the not easily loved. They pour into struggling learners while balancing their own families. They see more than I could ever understand and yet they are called teachers. In reality, they are security. They are therapists. They are coaches and role models. They are leaders. They are teachers and I appreciate them.

Surprise!

Yesterday's afternoon news of 20 innocent children being taken from their families in an act of violence so incomprehensible shook me to the core. News like this just reiterates the presence of evil in our world.  When tragedy strikes, my first instinct is to pull my family closer. Wrapping my head around the unfathomable is not possible. I cried and prayed a lot throughout the afternoon and evening. And then the pendulum swung the complete opposite direction.....a tiny knock indicating the surprise Greg mentioned had arrived. I opened the door to find my sweet Colby holding a rose and saying, "I play trains with Ty". Tears of grief turned to tears of joy just seeing him. His parents did not ship him to me, even though as a two year old, they have considered it once or twice! They were hiding just out of view with their beautiful daughter, Josie Grace. It was a perfect evening.

 

 

 

 

12 crappy hours of Christmas

On the first hour of Christmas my true love gave to me broken wiper blades.
On the second hour of Christmas my true love gave to me our second $300 water bill.
On the third hour of Christmas my true love gave to me our third water leak.
On the fourth hour of Christmas my true love gave to me two kids vomiting.
On the fifth hour of Christmas my true love gave to me five screaming kids.
On the sixth hour of Christmas my true love gave to me a teacher conference.
On the seventh hour of Christmas my true love gave to me a kid in detention.
On the eighth hour of Christmas my true love gave to me a three year old temper tantrum.
On the ninth hour of Christmas my true love gave to me two plumbers calling.
On the tenth hour of Christmas my true love gave to me a teen in a relationship breakup.
On the eleventh hour of Christmas my true love gave to me a migraine.
On the twelfth hour of Christmas my true love gave to me a hair appointment alone because he really is my true love.

Baughman Christmas Celebration

This airplane from Uncle Brad and Aunt Jessica was the only gift Ty opened. He didn't need anymore and played with it all afternoon. It is a very cool toy.

Lizzie couldn't wait for "Cousin Kate" to arrive. They are buddies.

Lexie wasn't sure about us. Family or not, she wasn't letting us get too close. From a distance though, we could exchange waves and smiles.

It was a Bieber Christmas for Kenna. She was pleased.

Kate Bug loves "footie pajamas" and hoped her traditional pajama gift would be both Christmas and footie. Grandma's good.

Grandma's girl and the puppy I should have considered when Kate requested one...this one takes batteries.

Did I mention he liked the plane? He got to assemble it with the included drill before playing with it. It really is a very cool toy.

I only photographed one plate of cookies. It would be a little incriminating to photograph all we actually consumed. We were spoiled.

Sleep

He wakes up talking and moving. Within mere seconds of his eyes opening, he is out of bed and literally running through the house, on whatever mission has already filled his head. There isn't enough caffeine on the planet to aid me in keeping up with him. He moves constantly and I suspect his brain moves even faster. He typically falls asleep mid-sentence after fighting a needed nap. Bedtime is similar; however, if we need to keep him up late, he will reach the point of asking to go to bed. On that rare occasion, I can almost hear the Halleluiah choir singing in the heavens. It's glorious. Bedtime is oh so much smoother when he is ready to concede to needed rest.  

Unlike my son, from the fourth night after my parents brought me home from the hospital, I have made it clear sleep would be a priority in my life. Mom put me to bed at 6 pm and woke up at 8 am the following day, scared to death I had died in the night. As she peered into my crib, afraid of what she'd find, I was just starting to stretch. I've required a lot of sleep ever since. I had a middle school friend who hosted sleep-overs where the only goal was to stay up all night. I always found space in the guest room to sleep anyway, despite the consequences of being the first one to to so. I ultimately stopped attending her sleep-overs. I was the only one I knew in high school who still had to go to bed at 9 pm because by 10, no one wanted to be around me the following day. Not much as changed as I still have an initial feeling of anger when the alarm goes off in the morning. If I can wake before that horrendous noise, all the better. It is safe to say, I am not a morning person.

Greg gets up pretty easily no matter what time of day or night that happens to be for him. His sleep schedule would wear me out. I asked him today if he remembers ever being the kind of person who would hop out of bed ready to conquer the world. He can't remember ever hopping out of anything but suspects that has more to do with his aging memory and body though. His mother reports he wasn't difficult to wake until his teen years but doesn't recall him ever being overly energetic first thing in the morning either.

All four of our daughters are very much like their mother. They sleep hard and aren't very social in the morning.  We were a family who enjoyed peaceful and calm mornings until the arrival of this precious boy.

He's totally worth it.

Reality

Am I the only one who stops in the middle of chaos and looks for cameras? There have been a lot of situations lately I have thought, "there is no way this is really happening" and looked to see if I had been set up by some reality-based practical joke TV program. On Tuesday, Brutus refused to walk. He was lethargic and clearly not feeling well. I literally looked up toward Heaven and asked, "really?" Today though, Brutus is fine. God has a sense of humor. I think.

Erin took her driver's exam yesterday. Ty packed accordingly. I think he already understands the speed in which the BMV typically operates. By the way, she passed. She drove the truck to school today. Against my better judgement, I did not follow her. Or call her. Or put a GPS tracking system on the truck. Or notify all four of our neighborhood police officers. Only because it would solidify everyone's suspicions I have clearly lost my mind.

Because I swear, it was just a moment ago she was in this phase. Where did the time go? It's been years since she last sat on my lap and yet, I can still remember vividly how that felt. Time has flown and I am supposed to be ready to watch her soar. Part of me is. I am so proud of her. She is ready. Me? Not so much. When she got home today, I casually mentioned it would be oh so helpful if she'd tell me she thought she'd be home at 4:15 when 4:00 was her plan. Today she said 4 or 4:30 and at 4:02 I was certain she was involved in a tragic accident and would never come home again. I was completely level headed and reasonable. I thought I'd played it cool but Lauren and Makenna ratted me out with sarcastic comments about pacing and crying....whatever. It was the first time my baby drove herself away from home. I will relax with time. Perhaps.

The "under 10" crowd is out of their minds. The fat guy in the red suit can't come a moment too soon. They're a little excited. Decorations are up. Gifts have been made. Christmas photos have been attempted. Twice. Twas the Night Before Christmas is being read regularly and our little advent calendar is being filled in....this year, Santa's beard with cotton balls. It's cute. We've received three Christmas cards in the mail. They are displayed on the memo board in the kitchen, taunting me. There may not be Christmas cards from this particular branch of the Baughman family this year. I am actually okay with that at this point. Life is too short to stress Christmas photos. After 18 years of marriage, the only opinion about that decision that bothers me is my mother-in -law's. She's pretty strict about traditions. We see her on Sunday. Maybe she hasn't noticed? Of course she's noticed! Maybe one more try? As I said, sometimes I think reality cameras are watching and people are laughing at me.

Santa-Gate, part 2

As it turns out, Santa has some elves keeping watch over the internet and my displeasure toward the outcome of his original conversation with Kate was investigated. Sources were discovered, contacts were made and reports were filed. Kate received a follow up phone call last night and Santa explained his mistake. The elves in charge of puppy production ran into a shortage this year and they let him know in no uncertain terms he would not be allowed to deliver a puppy to a house that already had a dog. Children waiting on puppies who don't have any would have to be prioritized. The elves are apparently pretty firm and determined. Kate quickly forgave Santa for the mix up and hung up smiling. Momma exhaled. Today though, she asked if we could call him back should Brutus die before Christmas. I am not kidding.

Kate decorating her own little Christmas tree today

Kicking Santa in the shin

While visiting Jennifer with the kids this weekend, Shelby mentioned talking on the phone with Santa Claus. Kate was shocked. Who gets to do that? As it turns out, Shelby's Aunt Patti has connections. She has Santa's cell phone number. Given we are in the throws of Santa's peak season, we weren't able to call him directly but sure enough, just a few minutes later, Santa called the girls. Kate will assure you, he was the real Santa because he knew her name and the names of her sisters and brother. Things were going well until Kate stepped into the bathroom with Shelby to continue their call with some privacy. You see, Kate has had a "secret" Christmas request for about a month. No one was allowed to know what she was going to ask Santa to bring for Christmas.  Within seconds, Kate burst out of the bathroom and exclaimed she was getting a puppy for Christmas! A what? Say what? Please dear God tell me I am dreaming. She couldn't contain her excitement as she rehashed the entire conversation and it ended with Santa telling her she has been a good girl so he was going to do what he could to bring her a puppy. At this point, I was glaring at Jennifer who was looking rather shocked herself. She instantly texted Aunt Patti demanding an explanation and was offered simply, "I think Santa misunderstood the cues"!!! I want to kick Santa in the shins. I was scrambling to reiterate to Kate that Santa has a parent pact and is not allowed to bring living creatures into the house unless authorized to do so. I let her know Brutus is old and tired so a puppy would not be a good idea. I reminded her how much work Mia and Woody were and asked her to think long and hard about even wanting a puppy. I was ready to cry as I pleaded with her to reconsider her request while my brain scrambled "we are in a mess!" We are 24 hours into "Santa gate" and she is growing more and more excited. She is thinking of names, planning when to get a crate and where the puppy will sleep. I am desperately trying to work out a plan to let her down as gently as possible, while feeling like the Grinch who stole Christmas. At this point, it appears Santa is going to write a letter explaining the elves in charge of puppies have run into a shortage this year so they have to prioritize the kids who don't already have a dog above her request. To soften the blow, a Build-a-Bear puppy named Peppy (short for Peppermint) has been ordered to be delivered with the letter. Ba-hum-bug. Yep, I could kick Santa in the shin.

Shelby

My friend Jennifer continues to struggle with surgical recovery and ended up back in the ICU again this week. We took her daughter, Shelby for the weekend so she could have some well deserved kid-friendly time away from the hospital. We've made ornaments, played outside in 60 degree weather (on the first of December!) and took some photos for Jennifer. We will be decorating the hospital room later. It's time to spread a little cheer.

 

 

The last shot is a glimpse of what was supposed to be our family Christmas card this year but Little Man would have no part of it. These two thought it was hilarious.