words of affirmation

random to pop in today, after no posts for 26,000 days but I wrote this blog for a friend of mine's mommy-blog in the spring, and wanted to keep it for myself too.

When we had our first baby, he continuously amazed us.  Partly because he was ours, the first creation that we made together, and partly because he was the closest reflection to God that either of us had seen.
We stared at him in admiration, and shouted at the rooftops to anyone who would listen!  “He’s wonderful!”, “He’s incredible”, “He is so smart, watch him do sign language!”, “He is so good, he already sleeps through the night!”.  As he grew, this continued, and as soon as we saw spark, we invested.
He was hitting balls like kids older than him, making goals in ever soccer game, knew his letters and their sounds before he was two, and honestly, I thought it was a direct reflection of me.  His accomplishments were obviously a representation of the mom that I was…  He wouldn’t be this smart with any other mom… right?


Then we had two.





Our second is everything opposite of our first.  He is a great kid, don’t get me wrong, but he didn’t sleep as a baby, and he didn’t talk until he was almost two.  Though he walked at 8 months, it wasn’t because he was in a hurry.  His pace at life in general, is that of a 100 year old, crippled tortoise.  He would matter-of-factly tell me that an “A” was a “2” every single time we worked on his letters and he cried to be away from me more than a few steps.


I actually apologized to his kindergarten teacher, since she had his older brother as a student too, before he ever started.
I worried that his anxiety was my fault, and I struggled with the fact that I worked with his brother more on his milestones.




How else did my kid get behind?
And yet he was only behind by the standard I had set for him.


Then I read something about the way we praise our kids.


I realized that I had been painting one with a paintbrush dipped in glitter and using a color palate of neon colors—and apologizing for the colors that I used for the other.
I was overlooking that our second child could build things out of Legos that the oldest couldn’t begin to dream up and can answer math questions quicker than my husband can.
It was me that wasn’t giving him a chance to show me his niche, but also because his makeup is so different that my first, he had no desire to prove himself either, just slowly reveal it in time.




But I wasn’t being patient.




I spoke to who he was, before he had even opened the gift completely.
I started thinking about the words I spoke over my kids and dug into the topic a little.  I read to use words like “important”, “thoughtful”, “courageous” and “kind” and the one that struck me the most was learning to say, “I accept who you are”.  I read to compliment their character, rather than saying things like “handsome”, and “smart” and I started living in that.


I know that, for me, as an adult, I live in the words that I speak; and as much as I hate to admit it—the words that are spoken about me.  I bathe in them and wear them for the world to see.


‘Words of affirmation’ is my number one love language so I began to choose the way I loved on my boys, through my words, differently.


I truly believe that children become what they are told that they are and in my opinion, the world is set up to tell them that they aren’t enough.


So even through the eyes being rolled behind me, or the other parents who might take it as too much—I choose to drench mine in affirmation.




As their parents, we were chosen specifically, to be their biggest fans.  We shouldn’t apologize for that.  We should tell them that they are capable, that they are valued, and that they are set apart.  We should point out the qualities of their peers and others around us, that we strive to mirror, and we should passionately convince them that we believe in them.
We should tell them every day that they make us proud… and we should wholeheartedly believe and profess that they are great.


Maybe this is so obvious to you.  But it was a light bulb for me!




I don’t have girls, but I hear my friends say how sassy they are… but by professing that about them, aren’t we in some way giving them the opportunity to fulfill the description?
Same with boys.
How often do you hear how rowdy they are?  Or the old “boys will be boys” saying…


Stop.
Speak to what you expect.
And lay those words down on them.
Think about the qualities that will carry them as adults, as parents, as spouses, and as employees, then buff ‘em up like a shiny penny.


Praise their manners, the way they respect others and their heart.
Praise their hustle, accountably and hard work.
Point out the way they make others feel, and acknowledge when they gave their best, even if it wasn’t the best of the race.




Cheer loud!


Let them hear your heart…
The words you speak will be the voice they tuck away and search for when they have nothing else to give.




In the words of William Martin:
“You do not have to make your children into wonderful people.  You just have to remind them that they are wonderful people.  If you do this consistently from the day they are born, they will believe it easily.”

June

June has a few days left, but I am trying to get my blog up to date before Knox gets here.

The boys have started it out busy with a trip to the trampoline park, a couple of camps, lots of water outside, the splash park, and the zoo.

We are cramped on space, so have just been grabbing the basics to life for our little lamb here and there.
Mom and David bought us a bassinet, that we have put together and I have been buying sleepers as I see them on sale.
We bought our carseat from a friend and Lance found the matching stroller on Craig's List this week, so we have the complete set now.
I bought a sling on Ebay but did splurge on a diaper bag for Mother's Day-- and a couple of Aden + Anais Muslim swaddle blankets.

People joke, "third kid problems" but it is true.
I don't think that Knox is short changed, you just get more realistic each time.
Like the sleepers.
That's all they wear for the first few months...
and they crap up their back at least twice a day, so many are necessary, however cute big-boy outfits  made out of itchy material, really aren't.

Also, like the $400 bedding that we bought Maddox.
I would never do that now.
Never.
Mainly because that comforter ends up being a hassle-- put it over the rail for looks during the day-- pull it out at night so they don't swaddle up in it and suffocate.
Bumpers are no longer recommended--and you could never see the bed skirt anyhow.
So basically, once we actually have a house that has a room that can be called Knox's-- we turned the entire bedding collection into a sheet.
$15 max.
because we are smarter now.

Despite me pitching this exact case to the girls I work with, they decided to throw us a shower at work.
I have worked with some of these girls for over 10 years-- and others just months-- but I truly feel blessed to see friends 3 days a week, rather than just co-workers.
Together, they threw the cutest shower for our boy and stocked us full of diapers, wipes , gift cards, and a few outfits too.
And we appreciated it, tremendously.

June was also David's birthday.
The coolest thing about us all living so close now, is how much time our kids get to play together.
I admit to be biased-- but I have the sweetest nieces and nephews and love spending time with them.
We had hotdogs and cake around a campfire...
while listening to music and watching the kids play.

Maddox started his summer in basketball camp.
He did so well.
The camp was hosted by the players of the Bridgeport state championship team, and was well put together.
He enjoyed it.

We had quite the adventure in our creek this June as well.
I am not sure if I have mentioned the rain ;) but it has kind of ruined everything.
My brother, Lance, and Dave thought they would take the Rangers down the creek to play in it.
Lance texted me saying that he and David had both gotten stuck and were trying to wench themselves out.
For God knows what reason, us girls decided to take the kids down to watch.
We had no idea that they had made it so far down the creek before they popped one wench cable, and caught the other Ranger on fire, but we hiked in sandals , through quicksand, with babies forEVER to find them!

All of our phones ended up dying, aside from mom's, and they were finally able to pull themselves out using the four-wheeler.
The guys were covered in poison ivy and chiggers-- we were sore as could be-- and my brother said I looked like a navajo indian, washing dishes when I refused to leave Beckham's shoe behind that he lost in a never-ending puddle of mud!
But it was fun!

Church camp was in June too.
Maddox had a blast-- as he always does.
B had a true-to-life anxiety attack which left me crying and yelling at Lance in the church.
He was excited to go the entire day.
He remembered how much he liked it last year and couldn't wait to do it again.
But then he couldn't.
He was frozen.
The most frustrating part about having a child with anxiety isn't really the child.
It is the other parents, who honestly mean well-- I know that-- but think they have a plan better than yours.
This isn't like the day your child cried... this isn't that at all.
This is decades of inherited genes from both sides of his family tree.
Both sides.
I know you think it will be better if I "just leave" or let you take him....  I know you think your child wouldn't do that because "you wouldn't allow it"... or give into it or whatever.
But believe me when I say that we have tried everything.
We have ignored it.
We have praised accomplishments.
We have disciplined.
We have threw him in and walked away.
We are trying.
This isn't your child.
I know this is beyond what your child has done because had you walked this walk-- you'd say, "I get it"-- "You're doing great"-- and "hang in there"when you see us melting.
I yelled at lance because I am past letting it embarrass me.
But he's not.
He gets frustrated and mad at him... and wanted me to make a decision.
Either take him or leave him.
The problem is that I know he wants to stay.
He had many kids there that he knew-- including his brother-- and there isn't one part of him that likes being frozen and upset and unable eat.
But it isn't a fit either.
I would discipline a fit.
It is like the world is going on around him at 3 million miles per hour but he can't unleash and go in.
Tears cover his face and his body doesn't move.  He's quiet and frozen.  He becomes a fish out of water.
But I have dealt with it long enough now, that I also know that he eventually will warm up.
So to me, allowing him to sit in my lap while we listened to stories of Jesus and sang songs of his praise was fine-- and then sit next to me while I unwrapped his PB&J and let him eat, careful not to move so he knows I am not trying to pull the wool over his eyes-- and then near me as he did the first two slides-- was what he needed to be able to let me leave.
He didn't go the next 2 nights (although he cried himself to sleep once we were home after backing out the second night, so disappointed in himself) but was excited to go the last night-- parent's night-- again.
Because I stayed.
And if you were around when Lance went through his anxiety-- I did the same damn thing for him.
Except he was an adult.
So I yelled.
At him.
In church.
And probably cussed.
But God knows me in and out of his house--
And he knows that we are trying.

And take away the anxiety,
that kid is easy.
Respectful, loving, handy, helpful....
I know I could have worse to overcome.

Beckham started off his summer in swimming lessons.
He had fun...
but I think he actually did better last year than this one.
He got in the car after our last lesson and said, "well, I didn't pass a single thing but she still gave me this award.  That was so nice of her."
I said, "don't be excited about that.  That sheet says I paid my $80 and you showed up.  That's it. That's no award at all."

I took him swimming last week and we tried practicing but he screamed like a pig which made me yell in his face in a way that no one deserves-- and he decided to just quit all together and asked to sit out instead.
Because that was his option.  You practice or you dry off.
And he sat out.
So that's that.

Our forms are half way up on our house and the land work is complete.
We spent a day picking out granite, which was a breeze--
but almost choked each other over plumbing fixtures.
Lance-- who cooks ZERO times ever--
decided to have a monopoly over kitchen fixtures.
Lance has great taste-- that's not the problem-- he just thinks we are paying with someone else's wallet sometimes and I am all about that budget.

I hear that house building is hard on a marriage, so I am going to try and not care too much about the details...
especially because I am kind of obsessed with my husband right now and don't want to ruin all of that,
but it would be helpful if he'd do the same.

For that day, we decided to walk away from house stuff and go bowling instead.
Which was kind of a win.

At least until the next time we talk about sinks!  ;)

For now, all talk is of Knox Henry.
We are due in less than week.
At our 36 1/2 week appointment he was measuring 7lb 6oz, which was exactly what B weighed at birth.
Maddox was 8lb 9oz, so I wasn't anticipating anything tiny-- however if those measurements were correct (which they typically are not), he would be over 9 1/2 lbs at birth--
and if I carried him a week late, like I did the boys, he could get close to 10!

Last night we thought we were summoned to meet him.
I got home from work and we started getting dinner going, when I noticed my contractions seemed to have a pattern to them.
I grabbed my trusty app and started timing them.
Consistently, they were between 3-4 minutes for a couple of hours.  I eventually laid down, and they began to slow down to 7-9 and even 12 minutes, so I started believing that it was fluke...
until I got up to go potty and they bounced right back into pattern and started moving into my back.
Not painful-- but more uncomfortable than they had been.

At about 11:00, we decided to head to Fort Worth.
My app kept giving warning, "It is time to get your hospital bag and documents ready.  If the hospital is far away or this is not your first labor, now would be the perfect time to go to the hospital."
I fell in both categories, being an hour and 10 minutes away-- and pregnant for the third time-- that I listened.
Except we were wrong.

They monitored the contractions for a couple of hours, but laying on my back in a hospital bed, dropped them down just as they had at home and there was no change on my cervix so they discharged us about 2:30am.

My sweet husband headed to work on less than 3 hours of sleep, and I have laid around contracting off and on all day.
Still not painful.
Still not any closer together.

I kind of hate that we went because I feel like I am going to be more gun-shy, the next time when it is actually real.  I also hate that I ruined my record of going 3 for 3 without any unnecessary trips to the hospital/ ER for a pregnancy.
But mostly I hate it, because if tonight becomes 'the night', I won't want to wake Lance because he worked almost 12 hours in the heat on 2.5 hours of sleep.
But lets be honest-- just like the first two, he will probably keep his self set in place past his due date. ...and that won't really become an issue.

Our nurse was so sweet and my sister and mom met us at the hospital...
The boys could hardly contain themselves with excitement as we left--
but weren't too disappointed today, when they saw he was still rolled up nice and tight in my belly.

The neatest part about having "older" kids this pregnancy, is seeing how mature they handle me.
Maddox is so in tune to me that he will notice grimaces on my face that I didn't know I was making.
He itches my back at night and asks how he can help me.
Beckham is less the 'husband' that Maddox tries to be but that child is obsessed with the baby far more than Maddox.
He will occasionally get out of bed at night, just to come kiss my belly and he loves to snuggle up next to me and feel Knox move.

As awesome and helpful as that is, I knew it would mean that "a baby is coming out of mommy's tummy" would probably warrant further information at some point too.

Last week was that time.

At 36 weeks, they start the weekly appointments, which include her checking dilation of my cervix.
The boys have to come with me, but we bring iPads and phones and they didn't seem to really notice since Dr Deem stations herself between them and me and keeps the sheet down.

Lance was off for our next appointment and the boys were in his lap.  She stayed discreet but when I stood up to put my clothes back on, Beckham said, "why does she always check your weenie?'  Maddox matter-of-factly replied, "its her bottom, Bubba... girls don't have weenies."

(Flash back-- the week previous-- Beckham got Maddox and I tickled because he was in the stall over at Target and he can't seem to get this genitalia thing straight-- although he is definitely interested!  He says, "momma, are you tee-tee-ing or poo-pooing?"  I said, "Tee-tee-ing.  Shhh."  He quickly replied, "oh.  With your weenie?  But not a real weenie... just like a tiny one that stays in your body or something.  like a weenie for girls."  I said, "yes B.  Hush!" Because I could hear giggles for stalls down.)

For God knows what reason, I felt it the time to take his observation further.
"Actually... girls have a vagina.  God created them for mammas to birth babies.  It is kind of like a bottom-- but kind of different."  I went on to say, "sometimes babies are cut from the momma's tummy and other times they push them out through their vagina."
Maddox was looking at me like he didn't understand and said, "what about me?  How did I get out?"
I said, "you both were born through my vaginal canal."
He simply answered, "that's awkward."
We laughed and went on about the day.

A few hours later, however, we had eaten lunch and were running errands around town.
Lance had gotten separated from the boys and I but rounded the end of the isle, almost running into each other.
Lance, being silly, said, "Whoa!  Where did you two handsome boys come from?"
Without a pause (or quietening his voice at all) B proudly says, "I came out of Holly Erwin's weenie!"

And so the explaining continues....

Maternity pictures

Candi came out, and did what she does!
I started to only post the clothed pictures here, careful not to offend anyone.
But you know what... my boys see me naked daily.  I am not going to offend them.
We are kind of a naked family.  Especially me and Beckham.
And to really honest, I like my pregnant body.
I am a size 2-4 in my normal life, which I can admit is not large.
Maybe even considered small.
However, despite how often me and the boys rock our God given skin, I don't look in the mirror and love my shape in my normal life.
Most of my life it was built like a teenage boy.
Long and lanky, no matter how you turned me around-- not a curve in site.
Kids gave me boobs, and then breastfeeding took their shape.
Kids gave me hips, but no rump to match them.
However, it is when I am pregnant that I look in the mirror and love my body.
Maybe because it still (even the third time around) amazes me that a human starts from 2 cells and quickly duplicates and grows into what we end up calling a child--right here inside my uterus.
Or maybe because it amazes me that, even at 32, my skin still stretches and fills to round plumps of glowing skin that somehow look prettier and healthier than that of someone who technically is not a large or "plump" person otherwise.
But whatever the reason, I want to remember it.
(And lets be honest, you see worse in Walmart.)

Like always, sweet Candi did her thing...
I am excited to have her back out in a few weeks when we can capture the other loves-- including our little Knox who is just days from joining our pack!