For the Love of Christmas

Jamie and I have been known to make impulsive decisions. We are committed to each other and strangely to our vehicles, but not much else. I haven't gone to the same hair stylist or dentist more than twice since I was eighteen and living with my parents. Jamie and I have lived in eight different residences since we were married twelve years ago--nine if you count the hotel we were in for a month when our hot water heater busted and flooded our downtown apartment. Every house we've owned we call a garage sale house. This means we were driving around with no intentions of moving, saw a sign, and said the famous last words, "It couldn't hurt to look." We are typically pantsers (fly by the seat of our pants) and rarely planners. That's how we knew this time was different. Our most recent move was thoughtful. It started with a commitment, and then purposely looking for 15-20 acres of land with visibility and good access to main roads, somewhere we could finally put down roots--both our family's and actual tree roots.

Growing up I remember having a real tree at Christmas. I remember the fresh pine smell filling the house, the clink of my dad's hammer on the metal stand, turning the tree in endless circles while we all voted on which was the best side to face out, getting sap on my hands when shoving the lights as deep in between the branches as my arms would allow. The Christmas memories that stand out over the others are the times we picked out our tree from the rows of perfectly conical evergreens at a nearby choose and cut farm in Indiana. This magical place was as much Christmas to me as the North Pole--all that was missing was Santa and his reindeer. Even then I knew I wanted a Christmas tree farm.

Jamie and I had talked about it before, but it was still just sharing dreams. It was in the same category as let's live in Belize when we retire. All our moves over the years left a longing in our hearts for roots. The longing grew stronger with every move. That's when we decided it was time to get serious about our dream. We looked at several different properties and none of them was just right. It was close to Christmas so we put our farm search on the back burner for the holidays. On our long drive home from North Carolina we started looking at properties on our cell phones. We had purposely not been looking at Williamson County simply because we knew we couldn't afford the amount of land we would need, but we were running out of options. I looked at Jamie while he was driving and said, "It couldn't hurt to look."

We entered our search criteria and there it was. It was in our price range, so of course our first thought was, "What's wrong with it?" The pictures showed cleared pasture land with gentle rolling hills and a small creek, and then we saw the deal breaker. The property bordered Tennessee's Interstate 840, the seventy seven mile partial loop around Nashville. This would deter most, but not a family looking to plant Christmas trees. We had wanted visibility from the road for free advertisement, and our time as urban dwellers in downtown Nashville prepared us for the road noise. It would be a familiar sound machine lulling us to sleep at night. The property was made for us. The exit off 840 is even named Pinewood Road. How perfect for a Christmas tree farm! We bought it. We sold our house, packed up the kids, and moved to the country.

Pinewood Christmas Tree Farm is no longer a dream; it's reality. The 2020 Christmas season for 500 families--maybe one of them is yours--begins next week when we plant our inaugural crop. To all those 500 families in the year 2020: thank you for letting us be such a special part of your holiday. Merry Christmas!

To The Toddler's Mother at Trader Joe's

Dear Toddler Mother,

     We only talked for a few minutes, but I recognized the anxiety in your voice. I saw the desperation in your eyes that told me, whether you work or stay at home with your child, that you are with children for more hours in the day than you are with adults. I'm sorry I didn't stay to talk to you longer. There was so much more I should have said. If I hadn't been there entertaining my two-year-old niece, I would have talked longer. I left my own toddler at home because she gives me a run for my money just like you said your two-year-old boy does to you. Bless you for still taking the time and effort to take him to the grocery with you. It teaches him how to behave in public. Good job for not giving up. Your bravery has inspired me to take my daughter with me more, even though it will involve screaming and snatching free cookies out of workers' hands, then running away without saying thank you.
     Also I wanted to say that the reason I was entertaining my niece is that my sister is also stressed and at the end of her rope balancing life with a toddler, and I was trying to give her the gift of grocery shopping in peace. Every toddler mother feels the way you and I do.
     You mentioned you doubted the quality of work you were doing in mothering your child. I know that you are doing a great job by the simple fact that you question it. That means you're still trying. Don't worry about all the mommy-shaming going around. I firmly believe that the only true mommy shame comes from within. Judge not lest ye be judged. When we look at others critically we tend to think they look at us the same way. So don't worry about them. They're most likely not worrying about you. It's our interpretation of the comments and looks we receive that feels like judgment and we have control over that. We have to let those comments roll off our backs. Most of the time no real harm or judgement is intended, it just feels that way because we are raw in those spots the comments touch from all the self-judging. And the comments and looks that are intended to hurt are not about us. They're about the speaker. Those people have either never been in your situation or have forgotten just how difficult and hopeless life feels in the years when your kids are toddlers. So take it easy on yourself. You're doing a great job and it will get easier.

The stranger who understands,
Laura

P.S. Your child seemed pretty well behaved considering his age. Must be the result of good parenting.

Motherly Sacrifice

On Mother's Day I remember two incredible mothers in my life. They are the women who made me a mother. They both love their children so much they were able to make a sacrifice most people will never be able to fathom. Similar to the way most people find it hard to understand why God sacrificed his own son on the cross. Sometimes love hurts. I have learned that in becoming a parent. I love my children so fiercely that sometimes I ache with the feeling. The love in my heart won't pour onto them fast enough to relieve the ache. I know for a fact that Maddox's and Mia's birth mothers feel that same kind of painful love every day. I am forever bonded to these special women, our hearts sewn together through the intense motherly love of the same son and daughter. 

On Mother's Day my heart aches for those who gave me the gift only God himself can give: the gift of life. Thank you to birth mothers everywhere for your sacrifice. It is through your pain and heartache that families are created. 

Prescription for Sleep

It was no secret that Brother slept in our room until he turned six. In fact, it was often a subject we openly complained about. When we first brought him home at eight months old, we were overly cautious about everything. One of the many things we were afraid of was the effects of him not forming a solid attachment to us. Of course he was attached to us right away, more to Jamie than to me. Not to say anything about my mothering. It's just that Jamie is an amazing father. He can't help it. He's a baby magnet. He draws them in. My strategy to form a solid attachment with my baby included rocking him. I don't regret it, even now. It did lead to him sleeping in our room for five years though.

When he was around three we convinced him that it would be way cooler to sleep in a Disney Cars themed bed tent than on a mattress next to our bed. He made it all the way through the night for three nights in a row. Then a storm came. The power transformer carrying power to our house that attached to our house right outside of Brother's window blew up in the middle of the night. Three things happened at once: a blinding blue flash, a loud boom, and the drum roll of a screaming toddler's feet zipping across the hallway to our bedroom. He was traumatized. He is seven now and still talks about "the scary night."

We left it alone and let him sleep on a mattress on our floor indefinitely. When we started talking about bringing Baby into our family though, we had to make some hard choices and sleeping arrangements was one of those hard choices. We managed to get Brother into his own bed, and even got Baby into her own crib. We still had to rock Baby to sleep and lay down with Brother until he fell asleep, but we were very proud of our accomplishments. In fact, I wrote a blog post about it. I thought that was as good as it could get. It was still stressful when one parent had to put two kids to bed at the same time, but that only happened once a week.

I stand corrected. It got better. At Baby's fifteen month checkup our pediatrician asked if she was going to sleep by herself. My answer was a proud, "Yes, she sleeps all night in her crib." Then as I was saying it I remembered the week before when she woke up six times in one night. I added, "Well, most nights."

Our pediatrician is perceptive and noticed that I didn't answer the question. He said, "So you lay her down awake and she goes to sleep by herself?"

I laughed, then caught myself when I realized he was serious. I didn't know that was possible. I'd heard parents say that's how they did it, but I still didn't believe it. I told him we'd have to start doing that with Brother first. His eyes widened. He's usually very laissez faire when it comes to parenting. He teaches us to handle things on our own and rarely gives orders when he isn't asked. So when he pushed the sleep issue we listened. He nicely asked me when I was going to stop being selfish and let her be independent. I hadn't thought of it that way. He said it wouldn't cause permanent emotional effects from letting her cry. I knew that was true…for her. I laughed when I told him the lasting emotional damage would be mine and not hers. He says in many couples one parent can't handle crying when the other can. Jamie had to look all manly in front of the Dr. and made it clear that he didn't mind the crying when he knows she's safe in the crib. So our Dr. gave us a prescription for sleep.

Step #1 Establish a bedtime routine. It should last for 20-30 minutes. Something predictable to start signaling to Baby that we are getting ready to go to bed. For our bedtime routine we give her a bath, give her a baby massage while putting on her coconut oil and creamy lotion, then we go around the house and tell everyone goodnight, then we rock her for a few minutes.

Step #2 for me, leave the house. Dr.'s orders. :) He said since I can't take the crying I should leave, go for a walk, or just get away. I decided on a hot bath with both bathroom fans on so I couldn't hear a thing.

Step #2 for Jamie, lay her down and walk away. While Jamie was rocking her for a few minutes he talked quietly telling her it's time for night night, and telling her he loves her. Then he laid her down and walked out of the room. Of course she cried right away.

Step #3 Set a timer for 10 minutes. If she was still crying when the timer goes off, he would go into her room and pick her up and soothe her for 30 seconds or less. Then he leaves again.

Step #4 Repeat Step #3 as needed. Our Dr. said on average the first night takes 45 minutes. and by the fourth night you'll not hear much crying at all. Our results were similar. The first night for us took 35 minutes and on the fifth night she didn't cry at all.

Her preferred sleeping position is on her face, butt in the air.

The first night we started working on this with Baby, we had a talk with Brother. We told him Baby is being brave and learning to go to bed by herself. He giggled in that "ha ha my sibling is in trouble" way. Then we told him he needed to be a good example for her and be brave and go to sleep on his own too. his laughter quickly turned into a quivering bottom lip. We tucked him in, turned on his nightlight, and reminded him that we would be right outside the door if he got scared. We didn't hear anything from him for the rest of the night.

He looks so sweet when he's sleeping.

I have free time at night again! And this is all thanks to my wonderful husband. He completes me. When I'm not strong enough be the tough parent I need to be, he takes over and gets the job done. Our whole family is now well rested and happy.

Thank you Jamie!!

Christmas Blessings

We've been busy. Busy preparing for Christmas. If you read the part 4 post of Mia's adoption story, you can see how chaotic our Christmas was last year. We were living in an apartment for two months waiting for our house to be built, so there really wasn't a lot of unpacking, and we came home on Christmas Eve with a two day old baby. On Christmas Eve we were up with the baby and last minute preparations until about four in the morning. We laid down for our fabled long winter's nap promised to us by the poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas" and Maddox woke up to see that Santa had come at 4:15 a.m. Jamie stayed up to watch Maddox open his presents. I tried, but slept through most of it. I remember hearing 'look Mom' a few times, but no visual memories. Later that day I was flipping through Facebook and saw some pictures of presents being opened by my child for the first time. Our Facebook friends got a first glimpse at my Christmas morning before I did. 

We were very grateful for our beautiful and tiny Christmas miracle, and we wouldn't change any of it. However all the chaos of it increased our holiday appetites for 2013. We've been celebrating Christmas since October. It started with my Christmas wreaths. I took them to a craft show and have sold all but three which I may just keep for myself.

As soon as we got home from visiting family for Thanksgiving, we bought our tree. We wanted to get one sooner, but made ourselves wait. Jamie and I get impulsive when we are excited, but we were able to reign it in a bit and only got the 11 footer--we had our eyes on the 12. Our backs are very glad we didn't go bigger. We carried it in ourselves--just the two of us. Well, rolled it in, I suppose. Anyway, we got it in. Jamie had put the stand on before we got it inside and we would tweak it for balance once we got the monstrosity upright. When we picked it up, it was perfectly straight, no tweaking required. Another Christmas miracle.

Funny. It doesn't look as big on top of our car.

(Did you check for squirrels, Clark?)

Maddox was able to put the star on top with a little help from Daddy and a ladder.

Maddox and I decorated a Gingerbread village and Made Minecraft shaped sugar cookies for our neighbors. 

It's been Christmas non-stop around our house. And with one week left, it will only get more Christmas-y-er. Yes, that's a real word. I just made it up. Mia's first birthday party is coming up and so is Christmas with my side of the family, then Santa will come and bring more toys, Christmas with Jamie's side of the family, and Maddox's birthday won't be long after that. With the present overload and all the joyful chaos of the holidays I worried that my children would miss the true meaning of Christmas. I thought that when February rolls around and there are no more back-to-back birthdays and holidays involving presents they would become spoiled and not know what it means to plan and save up and work for things. I thought they would expect everything they want when they want it. I had too little faith in them. Maddox had to remind me, as he often does. 

We were sitting waiting for Daddy's Christmas concert to start and sharing jelly beans. Maddox handed me an orange one and I said no thank you and asked if I could have a red one. He shook his head at me and told me to just enjoy what I have. 

Both kids have been sick off and on for about a month now. Maddox's most recent affliction was a nasty double ear infection. We tried the good tasting antibiotic with no results. He had to take the yucky white stuff. I don't know what it tastes like, but my son loves to take medicine to the point that I'm a little worried about it. With the white stuff though...he runs and hides. We told him if he could be good and take his medicine without argument for all ten days he could open a present from mommy and daddy the day he takes his last dose. He did it. He worked hard at keeping a good attitude and struggled through two doses a day. He earned his present. 

When he opened the long awaited present, I didn't see the reaction I expected. He is all about Minecraft lately, and I got him a Minecraft play set. He studied it calmly. He was happy, but not jumping up and down as I'd hoped. While we were putting it together I asked him a few times if he liked it and if that was what he wanted. He answered a simple yes every time. After I had asked if he wanted more he said, "I'm trying to just enjoy what I have." 

When it was about candy, I thought it was a cute response. He was just repeating something I'd told him before, but the second time I saw that he truly gets it, maybe more than I do. He gets the true meaning of Christmas. It's not about presents. It's about enjoying what you have and the people you share it with. That's one smart kid.

Happy Adoption Day to My Little Boy

September 11th is a day of remembrance and a sorrowful day for most people. It is not merely the day that the twin towers fell for everyone though. For instance September 11th is my cousin's anniversary. Happy Anniversary Stacey and Chad! And for my immediate family, September 11th is the day Jamie and I officially (as far as paperwork is concerned) became parents for the first time.

Six years ago Jamie and I sat in the American Embassy in Guatemala City, Guatemala, holding our tiny baby boy. Baby girl is now almost the exact age Big Brother was when we held him on that day in the embassy. Holding her makes me remember how small he was. I remember dressing him in this tiny zip-up hoodie and khaki pants and having his picture made in it for his visa. He was nothing but big dark eyes and pouty red lips on a round tan canvas, a lighter version of what his little sister looks like now.

There were many other almost-adoptive parents there who clutched their own babies in a mixture of love and anxiety. Before we left for our take home trip, several people commented on how Brother looked like us, me in particular. I have dark eyes and hair too. One person even asked if they matched the babies with parents based on looks. Jamie and I laughed at the question, but as we sat in that room observing the parents with their babies we started to wonder the same thing. A baby with a long serious nose jumped in the lap of a mother with a similarly long and serious nose. A little girl baby with thick straight eyebrows sat in the lap of her adoptive father with the same eyebrow shape. We then saw a large woman with curly fire-red hair piled in a mess on top of her head. Jamie and I shared a look, our theory had been debunked. There was no way a Guatemalan baby could look like a pale red headed woman. Then the lady's husband sat her adoptive baby in her lap. The baby had the same curly hairdo, only a darker shade. Maybe there was something to the theory after all.

In our family An Adoption Day is like a birthday, but only with our immediate family. It's more personal, to me, than a birthday. We give one small gift, have a special meal, and do something fun as a family. Each year I tell Brother about his special day and try to explain to him what it means to be adopted. Each year he seems to understand a little more. This year he found pleasure in hearing that his name, before we officially changed it, was the same as a bad guy in Plants vs. Zombies. And then the book he chose to read tonight was about Batman and Robin, featuring the second Robin. It also mentioned that the first Robin, who became Nightwing, was an "orphaned acrobat who was adopted by Bruce Wayne." Most people know that Superman was adopted (we all have matching T shirts saying just that. They are available on www.olivetreepromise.com) but not as many people may know that Dick Grayson was actually adopted by Bruce Wayne. A fun fact that made our Adoption Day special. When we read over that part, Brother paused and had a proud look on his face that he had something in common with one of his heroes.

Another special bonus to Brother's Adoption Day was a special package that just happened to arrive today. My good friend sent a present to Brother that her husband picked up while he was traveling in Central America. It was a wonderful reminder of Brother's home country on his special day. So if you are reading this before we can tell you thank you ourselves, thank you very much Jamie and Michael! Your timing couldn't have been more perfect.

When I was tucking him in bed tonight I asked him if its was a good day. He said yes with a partially toothless grin. I did my job. I made him proud of who he is today, and I couldn't imagine my life without him.

Hallelujah

Big things are happening around our house this week. School is back in session. That means Big Brother is now in the first grade. He's an old pro at this school stuff. I didn't even walk him in on his first day. He confidently got out of the car and made his way inside among the other nervous children all by himself.

All summer he had been informing me that he would not go to first grade and that he would stay in kindergarten indefinitely. When it came down to the do or die moment, however, he showed his bravery. I'm sure the Darth Vader backpack and Justice League lunchbox didn't hurt either.

Baby Girl's big news is that she is officially on the move. Gone are the days of lying on her back unable to escape the mobile monkeys circling her head. I lay her down under the monkeys and she is ten feet away before I make it back to my office chair.

Daddy's big news is that he is ours once more. For the past few weeks he has been working, sometimes twenty hours a day (he did that five days in a row) on his new projects - a CD of hymns and a CD of worship songs. Tonight is the last night he will not be at home. We have missed him, but we knew our sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. The finished product is incredible. 

Sometimes I forget I'm married to such a talented man. I forget that he blows through this shiny piece of metal with all these complicated looking keys and music comes out the other end, music so beautiful anyone lucky enough to hear it is deeply moved from the first note. He can make people laugh and cry and feel real emotions. And the most wonderful effect of all is that it puts babies to sleep. Don't believe me? Give it a try. I've never seen a baby or toddler not enthralled by it. And the peace and calm of it soothes them right to sleep. His music is soothing in a way no words can describe, you have to experience it to understand. And somehow I forget all of this if I go too long without watching him create new music. The best thing about forgetting is that when I do remember, it's a brand new experience every time. I'm star struck all over again. 

He has put together two CD's in a few short weeks. From the laid back sounds, you would never guess how quickly they were put together. That just shows how talented Jamie is and how naturally this comes to him. And I need to also mention the other half of the Jamie Reid team, George Hairr, producer extraordinaire. His creativity combined with Jamie's raw talent makes for a musical experience that can't be replicated. 

Here is the lineup for the CD of hymns

1. As the Deer

2. Because He Lives

3. Give Me Jesus

4. Blessed Assurance

5. I Surrender All

6. Were You There/At the Cross

7. Jesus Paid It All

8. The Solid Rock

9. Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)

10. I Need Thee Every Hour

And here is the CD of worship songs

1. I Need You

2. How He Loves Us

3. How Beautiful

4. Blessed Be the Name

5. At the Cross

6. All Who Are Thirsty

7. Here I Am to Worship

8. God of Wonders

9. I Can Only Imagine

10. Made Me Glad

My favorites? All of them. A few stand out among the others for me though. 

Blessed Assurance. His previous albums Instrumental: A Collection of Hymns and Instrumental: Songs of Worship had what I call the Jamie Reid sound. Both of his new CDs have the same sound, but he took it in a little different direction this time. Blessed Assurance is jazzy sounding. It features a Hammond B3 that gives you a warm, old time churchy feeling. Not my old time church since I grew up Church of Christ, but like the classic church services you see in movies. It's a little more up tempo than his usual relaxing pace, but he still captured his signature laid back sound.

How He Loves Us. I wasn't familiar with this song before he let me listen to his interpretation of it, but the from the first note, I was hooked. I can't get it out of my head. I don't know the words, but I can hear the emotion in his playing and I get what the song's about. I'm a words person, so for him to achieve this is a great feat. 

How Beautiful. I have to mention this one because I requested it. Okay, I demanded it. He played this song at our friend's wedding a few years ago and it was so beautifully done it had to be recorded. 

I can't wait until this one is available to sell so that people can start hearing the fruits of his labor. I'll be sure to announce it as soon as it is. Until then, you can hear Jamie's past (and equally as special) projects at www.jamiereidmusic.com

Kids Have Their Own Bedrooms for a Reason

I am pleased to announce that after six years of having at least one child in my bedroom at all times, everyone in my household is now sleeping in his or her own room. And it really wasn't as hard a transition as I anticipated.

We've tried this before. When Brother first made the move to a toddler bed we tried it. We were in our little 778 square foot condo downtown. We were all so close anyway, we thought it would go over pretty well. It didn't. The only way he would fall asleep in his room was if Jamie or I laid on the floor holding his hand until he'd been asleep for a few hours. If he'd only been asleep one hour when we got up, Brother would immediately sit up and start screaming. Once we moved to house #1 we tried it again. This time I tried to include him and tried to encourage some independence. He picked out a bed tent and told me he would sleep in his own room if he had the super cool Lightning McQueen bed tent. Never take a four year old at his word. I'm sure he meant it at the moment, but that first night we put him in the bed/tent, he was velcroed to my leg before I could turn the light off. It was a struggle including many nights of Jamie or me sleeping on the hard floor next to his bed all night long, but he finally started sleeping in his own room on his own. He even let us leave the room while he was awake and fell asleep on his own. One week later the transformer outside his window blew up. Not the cool robot transformer, he would have thought that was awesome, the power transformer bringing power in to the house from the street. It just happened to connect right outside his window. From across the hall Jamie and I saw a blue flash of light and a loud boom. At the same time we heard a toddler's scream and a little boy diving headfirst into my bed. Brother didn't sleep by himself another night in that house.

With all the transition from that house to our new house (we lived in an apartment for a few months in between) we didn't try too hard to get him in his own room. Baby was born in the middle of all of it to add a little more to our plates. (A welcomed side dish.)

Baby was a good sleeper. By about eight weeks she was sleeping most of the night. As soon as we started bragging, she hit a growth spurt and started demanding food every three hours around the clock. The growth spurt passed but she had gotten used to her midnight snacks - both of them. At her latest check up we consulted her doctor and he assured us that she should be able to fast for eight hours and we wouldn't be bad parents if we tried to stretch her feedings out that long at night. Jamie and I shared a look of hope and decided it was time to take our bedroom back.

Baby was easy. We just laid her in bed one night and that was it. We got a really nice camera with great night vision on it. So we could watch her every move. It's very entertaining at times. This morning I watched her pick her head up, look around for her pacifier, pick it up, pop it into her mouth, and go right back to sleep. Even with the camera though, I missed her. I realized part of the reason they both had stayed in my room for so long was because of me and my need to be near them all the time.

Parenting is a complicated dance of constantly wanting to be with your children and constantly wanting your own time and space. When I do have time away from them, I feel guilty for leaving them and longing to be with them again. Letting go is hard. Taking Brother to kindergarten was the same type of feeling. I want him to grow up and become his own person, but I want to keep him with me as my baby too. I was okay with his first day. I didn't even cry. About a week into school on the first day I didn't have to drag him out of my car with the help of the teacher on bus duty, I hugged him and told him I loved him and he took off running. He ran all the way down the long sidewalk and into the school and never looked back, not even a quick over the shoulder glance for his mommy. I cried that day. That was a step towards his independence. Not sleeping on the floor of my bedroom was another step.

Getting brother into his own bed took careful planning. When I first asked him why he didn't want to sleep in his own bed he had a one word answer. Zombies. That might be my fault. He has never seen an actual zombie movie, not even close. The boy is obsessed with Plants vs. Zombies, though. He loves the zombies. He pretends he is a zombie. I thought he could handle the truth, and he caught me off guard. He was firing off questions and I was trying to answer them as honestly as I could in a way he could understand.

"What does Baby say when she sees me play Plants vs. Zombies?"

"What does the Zombie say when the squash jumps on his head?"

"What does sunflower say when the zombie eats him?"

"What's a jalapeno?"

"What's the jalapeno say when he burns the zombies up?"

"What's a zombie?"

I had been doling out answer after answer, some answers were creative and imaginative, some were simply, "I have no idea. What do you think he says?"

But I knew the answer to the zombie question. I didn't have to think about what an inanimate object would say to another inanimate object. "It's when someone dies and then comes back to life, except they only want to eat people's brains."

After that answer, the questions stopped. I looked up. He was still watching his game, but the widened eyes and nervous smile told me I'd crossed the line. Too much honesty from a parent can be just as dangerous as too little honesty. I tried to reassure him. "They're not real. You know that, right?" He shook his head in agreement, but I knew that he didn't believe it. After that he started having occasional nightmares. He would wake up crying and he would tell me he had a bad dream but he wouldn't tell me what it was about. One night he finally told me that it was zombies who were haunting his dreams. Great. I mentally and sarcastically patted myself on the back.

With all of this in mind I approached the subject carefully. I made sure that Brother knew about the revolutionary new zombie resistant paint out on the market. Once the walls are painted, they can't come in the room, they disappear as soon as a toe creeps over the threshold. He hadn't heard about it. Next I let him pick the color. I promised myself I would go with any color he chose. I wanted his room to be his own. So I crossed my fingers hoping he wouldn't say black - the color he usually picks. He chose gray so that it would look like the Death Star. I could live with gray. That's all it took. One creative lie and a little control over the design.

The first night, I laid down with him. He pretended we were inside the Death Star. He threw his arms around me and said, "I love you so much, Mommy. Can we sleep inside the Death Star every night?" I answered with an emphatic yes.

The Ever Elusive Me Time

Me time.

What does it mean? I used to think it meant doing what I wanted to do. Over the years it has evolved into any second I can actually be alone. Being an introvert in an extrovert world can be quite tiring. And with two children who need my constant love and attention, alone time is a rare gem that I have to track down and dig for hours to catch a glimpse of. In a family with two artsy parents who need time to create, whatever free time existed is cut in half, and those halves aren't always cut evenly.

For the past week of so Jamie has been working on a new project. It is the next installment of his Instrumental series of hymns and worship songs. Needless to say all of the time lately has gone to him. And I'm surprisingly not jealous.

Before I discovered how much I like writing, I often wondered (OK, I complained about it) why my life's purpose couldn't be as clear as Jamie's. If you've ever heard Jamie play, you know what I mean. If you haven't follow the link in this shameless plug.

Instead of getting jealous, I tried to learn from him. I think we all have something we do better than anything else. It was hard for me to figure it out because I have a lot of interests, and I'm pretty good at most of them. Figuring out which one rose one tick mark above the others in an imaginary bar graph was hard. I was looking for something big and bold, the thing that would single me out and shine the spotlight my way. When I still came up blank, I figured out that a talent doesn't have to be a performing act. It was then I finally saw that my purpose was just as obvious as Jamie's, only more behind the scenes.

My purpose is to help Jamie in his purpose. I know it sounds like a cop out, trying to piggyback on his talent, but it's not. I am very arts oriented, but I also love numbers and have a special place in my heart for spreadsheets. It's a strange combination that makes me an atypical accountant. In the early days of our marriage my purpose included working a reliable job and using my talents in spreadsheets to manage our family finances so that he could find time and resources to be a working musician. Now that we have children, my purpose duties have grown to include managing the kids and keeping everything running when he works on music.

He can't focus and be in the right frame of mind if he knows we're all falling apart here at the house. It's a hard job, but somebody's got to do it. And I'm glad that that someone is me. I love to hold his CD in my hand and know that I helped. I'm the little girl who poured the Shake and Bake into the bag and claimed that I helped make dinner. The contribution may be small, but it's important. After all, what would chicken be if you just shook it by itself in the bag?

My talents are not as noticed as the beautiful and inspired music that comes from my husband, but I still get to be part of something beautiful through him. And truthfully, I'd rather be behind the scenes anyway. Who needs the spotlight. Plus, I get to have two purposes - supporting and writing. And I'm really looking forward to my own me time once his project is complete.

10 Things I Learned on Vacation

1. If you're going to the beach stay on the beach. The up charge is worth it. Especially when there are stormy days and you're stuck in the room for part of the day. The view from our condo was amazing. And the balcony was even better. 

2. Wear sunscreen. We did really well on the sunscreen front this time. No one got burnt. I didn't get noticeably tanner, but you have to pick your battles. Brother, on the other hand, with his Guatemalan roots turned a nice dark caramel color. And of course Baby is already as dark as she can get. 

3. Go ahead and spring for the pricey beach chair rental. We got the padded wooden beach chairs and the umbrella. We debated but we were very glad we did. There was already so much to carry - the beach bag, all the baby gear, beach towels, the giant blow up dolphin float... Side note: brother has been obsessed with plants vs zombies lately which features a diver zombie and a dolphin zombie on the pool stage. Brother had to have the goggles and snorkel and the giant dolphin float so he could be a zombie on the beach. With all that gear we were glad to not also have to carry our own chairs and an umbrella. And an umbrella is a must for a baby on the beach. 

4. Always take someone with you if you have kids. There were so many times when we wanted to go walk on the beach after the kids finally fell asleep. Can't exactly leave a 6 year old in charge of a 6 month old though. Next time we will strategically invite friends who wouldn't mind a little babysitting now and then. 

5. Don't make any solid plans in advance. In Florida if its raining just wait a few seconds. It doesn't last long. You never know when those brief showers will pop up, though, so keep your plans flexible and you won't be disappointed. 


6. Don't wash the brand new cheap beach towels with the white hotel towels. I think this one is self explanatory. I've never seen items go in so white and then come out so red. The resort was very understanding though and in sure they had a laugh at our expense after we left. 

7. Make lasting memories by getting dirty in the sand. Your kids will remember. Jamie and I both took turns making sand castles and digging and covering ourselves head to toe in sand. Maddox was right there getting dirty with us. 

8. Eat where the locals eat. This is my favorite one. Jamie and I love to research restaurants beforehand to find the little unique restaurants you have to know someone to know about. Let me just say that I ate my weight in oysters. 

9. Reality hits you faster when you fly. When we drive for long trips there's always that long decompression time on the way back where Jamie and I talk and make plans for the future. Coming back to reality settles gradually like floating dust particles. Not so with flying. The flight was short and getting everyone's things in order to get through security and get on the plane is pretty hectic. Flying with adopted children is not easy in itself. Brother had to have his record of foreign birth and since Baby's adoption is not finalized (will be in a few weeks) we had a notarized letter from the adoption agency stating she was our baby. So no decompression on the way home. 

10. Nobody's gonna clean your house while you're gone. That was a sad lesson to learn.