Five Years

When G was still a tiny babe in arms I remember reading somewhere that parents only truly have the first five years of a childs life to teach them all the things that they will need to navigate the world. Sure, after that point you can teach them the details, but by five, it claimed, they were already who they were going to be.
I remember panicking at the thought that John and I had five short years with this boy to instill the things that he would need to hold in is heart to navigate the rest of his life.
No pressure.
Fast forward two blinks of an eye and our time is up. The first five years with Gunnar are gone.
Every parent knows that every parent who went before them always says "it goes by so quickly, cherish each moment", and we have. I remember the first thought that went through my head the moment I saw him. I know exactly where he was standing when he said his first word. I remember that he still couldn't walk when John took him on his first "boys only" hunting trip. I can remember each of the 13 times he has been the reason we were sitting in the ER. I remember the way he cried when the sonographer told him he was having another sister, and the way his eyes lit up the first time he held her. I remember the dance we did the first time he read the word "bus". I remember the prayer he said faithfully for each year of his life that his dad was in Afghanistan.
I have cherished each moment, snapped every picture possible, memorized each adorably mispronounced word.
But, having just tucked into bed, for the first time, my five year old son, I wonder if I've done enough. Have I taught him enough about the real Jesus? Does he know how far a smile will go? Does he know that the best way to stand out in a crowd is to be honest and selfless and serve others? Have I "trained up a child in the way that he should go" so that "when he is older he will not part from it?"
If I'm honest with myself the answer is that I don't know. I don't know if we have done enough with the first five years. I pray that we have, but even if we haven't, we can't have those five years back. So now we dig into the details and watch the rest unfold.
A few days ago John heard the song "He's Mine" by Rodney Atkins for the first time. We shared a laugh about the line that says "I'll take the blame and claim him everytime". This speaks so truly to Gunnar, we agreed, because our son is always the one doing either the extremely right thing or the extremely wrong thing. Occassionally catching him doing the extremely right thing renews my faith that the unfolding will be a joy because our first five years have been intense and productive, full of lessons in morals and character, regularly opening God's Word and submitting our petition to Him.
The first five years with Gunnar have been such an adventure, such a blessing, that I can't even begin to fathom what the coming years will bring. I would venture to say that the one thing that I know for sure is that the adventure of raising Gunnar will continue to be enough to keep us faithfully entering the throne room of God, usually with petitions for patience :)

A Season of Long Suffering

It may seem odd that I am going to follow up a post about how wonderful this season is with the fire team with a post about how this season is one of suffering, but surely, on the human plane, one season can encompass more than one characteristic.
John has been gone for 45 weeks. 315 days. It's been a loooonnnnngggg time.
Clearly, we have most of this deployment behind us. There is but one more calendar page to turn before we get to the page with the picture of the stick figure wearing ACU's and holding a weapon.
Still, true to form, the days left on the calendar seem to take up as many pages as they did 314 days ago. The days are long. Weeks drag on.
Welcome home signs are plastered on homes, the front gate, barracks. I'm in no hurry. We have plenty of time to make signs. I watch my friends welcome home their love. I don't harbor jealousy, or even envy. Just praise and thanksgiving that men who have spent months planting footprints in sand and mud in defense of our country, in defense of my little fire team, are once again planting them on American soil.
It's a reminder that I am standing on the cusp of welcoming home my own love. I'm thankful for that reminder, otherwise I might never lift my eyes from the ground, from watching one foot being placed in front of the other.
It seems that I will never catch up with the calendar. I check days off, but days are added to the end. I'm drowning in black sharpie across double digit numbers.
I need to find purpose in these days. The days between today and THEE day.
I stay busy.
I keep my mind busy.
I teach special sounds (surely, if waiting doesn't kill me, special sounds will).
I memorize new scripture.
I talk off the ears of my friends.
I laugh. Hard.
I keep my hands busy.
I wash shirts that have sat in unopened draws for months, waiting for the shoulders that fill them.
I shovel snow. I shovel it again. And again.
I change diapers.
I put one foot in front of another and the other in front again. I keep my eyes on the ground.

Surely, there is a lesson here. Surely, there is something to be gained from the waiting.

"The end of a matter is better than it's beginning, and patience is better than pride"
-- Ecclesiastes 7:7-9

It Won't Be Like This For Long

So, I've been struggling a bit for the last few days. R has been having some nursing issues, and while I am blessed not to be sleep deprived (twelve hours of sleep with two wake ups consistently, thank you Gary Ezzo), I have been frustrated and taking some measures that I am normally opposed to taking. G has been testing the limits of being an adventurous boy, which results in a lot of screaming by his sister which is immediately followed by his rushing into the room to give me his side of the story and a good bit of time spent mediating (and often doling out punishment). And we've just been busy. I know that probably sounds weird, but we have been. So like I was saying, I've been struggling with enjoying this time and instead focusing on looking forward to the years when my children are all capable of walking, going to the bathroom themselves, and navigating their own differences. Then today there was a moment. I was in the kitchen cleaning the gigantic mess that had grown in there over the last few days, Rogue was sleeping peacefully in her swing, which is a major no-no in the McBean family, and Patton was screaming in the playroom while Gunnar laughed heartily in the background. I closed my eyes and breathed deep. And then, I suppose in showing me that He really can use anyone, Hootie spoke into my life. A Darius Rucker song came on the radio the spoke the moment perfectly..."It Won't Be Like This for Long". It won't. Really. It won't be like this for long. With my eyes still closed, the mechanical sounds of the swing and the screaming and laughing still ringing through the air, I imagined the days that are not very long away...hugging my grown child in an airport as they prepare to board a plane for college, or a mission, or the military...sitting in a pew watching my child become someone's husband or wife...answering the door of my immaculately clean house when my babies bring their babies to visit. Those days are not far away and I know that on each of them I am going to wish for this day...messy house, baby sleeping where she's not supposed to be, feeding my sweet baby in the quiet dark, hours spent reading and cuddling, brother and sister fighting and making up, endless opprotunities to shape the little people I've been entrusted with. It won't be like this for long. Thanks for the reminder Hootie.

Conversations with Gunnar

If I don't write these down now they will be lost forever and that would be a crying shame.

Today Gunnar asked me "Mommy, did you know that one of Jesus' special powers is that he's basketful?" When I asked him what that meant he said "It means he's really good at basketball".

While I was tucking P into bed G, who was supposed to be tucked into his own bed, came frantically running into her room to announce "Mommy, there was a huge jet outside my window". When I asked him how he saw the jet since he was supposed to be in his bed he gave me a furrowed eyebrow and said "I was out of my bed doing my robot dance".

We were having a conversation about animals that it is not safe to go near and G named lions. Then he said "But God will protect us from lions". I was thinking about how to respond and he asked "Only Daniel?". I was thinking for another minute and I could tell that he knew he had stumped me when he said "well, if I ever go near a lion I'll just wear sticky shoes so that I can walk on the roof and get away".

Later, we were having a conversation about some new rules that we will have once the new baby gets here. When I was telling him that "we" don't touch her face he interjected with "and we don't pick her nose"...

Seriously, what a mystery the four year old brain is...

A Humbling Conversation

This morning I was totally wrapped up in some task when my mom brain realized that Gunnar had gotten down from the table without being excused. The following conversation ensued...
Me: Gunnar, get back up to the table and finish your breakfast.
G: How did you know I got down?
Me: Because I'm the mom and I know everything.

Several minutes pass, during which G is dutifully eating his yogurt and watching our neighbors from the diningroom window.

G: Mom, do you know those neighbors? What are their names?
(Even though I don't know ANY of our neighbors, I look out to see exactly which neighbors he is talking about)
Me: No, sweetie, I don't.
G: See, so you don't know everything.

Who is more humbling than a four year old?

Bad Mom Moments

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that all mom's have bad mom moments. My worst bad mom moment is so embarrassing that years later I still haven't shared it with anyone but my husband. Anyway. I feel like deployment makes these moments more frequent and then (in true deployment mom guilt mode) I overanalyze them. Even in the short period of time that John has been gone, I feel like there have been a million bad mom moments. So, what's a mom to do but share her bad mom moments? Here are a few of the ones that I have chalked up in the last two weeks.

• The other night I fell asleep with the t.v. on (sometimes the silence in the night is just too much) and I woke up at about 1 a.m. to find G sitting in my bed intently watching American Pickers. I have no idea how long he was there before I woke up.


• Approximately 5 times have I gotten into the car and put it in gear before G has yelled, at the top of his lungs, "I'M NOT BUCKLED IN". (Note -- I've never driven with him unbuckled, so don't freak out).


• The other day I was vacuuming and there was a dime on the floor. I told G to come pick it up and put it "away" with the money he takes to offering on Sunday. Instead of making sure that he did it, like I normally do, I went back to vacuuming only to have P walk up a few minutes later and say "Mommy, Gunnar gave me some money and I put it in my mouth and now I can't find it". That's right, ladies and gentlemen, she swallowed it.


• When I was doing laundry yesterday I realized that the kids pajamas outnumbered their day clothes 2 to 1. We have to get out more.

There you have it, some of my best and brightest moments.

All About Gunnar

I know that it's hard to believe, but four years ago today I first held my baby boy. Gunnar took four years of fertility treatment, just over $47,000, and a miracle from God to conceive. It's hard to believe that at this point we have had him for just as long as we tried for him.
We could not be more blessed to have him, so todays thankful list is all about Gunnar, so here goes.
When it comes to Gunnar I am thankful...

48. for his capacity for compassion -- G hates to see other people sad and everytime he sees me cry (even happy tears) he sheds a few tears of his and wants to know what he can do to make it better.
49. that his sister is his best friend -- G & P may argue and bicker like all brothers and sisters, but they hate being apart and G revels in making P laugh.
50. for his giving heart -- today G got a birthday card from Aunt Nancy with two $5 bills in it. Immediately, he looked at P and said "look Patton, one for you and one for me, isn't that exciting?".
51. that he is his fathers son -- not only is G a spitting image of John, but he also shares most of his habits and tendencies, which ensures that he will grow up to be an amazing man.
52. for his love for God -- I am often humbled by the way that G loves God and the way that he lives that out.
53. for his sense of humor -- just like his dad, not a day goes by when G doesn't make me laugh until my stomach hurts.
54. that God picked me to be his mom.