The Importance of Playing

I have one single memory of my mother and I ever playing together. That's not to say that there couldn't be more I suppose. But I can only remember one time which means that it was a rarity for my mom to play with me. And that memory, is one of my most very favorite memories ever too.

In contrast to that, I have dozens upon dozens of memories of my father and I playing games together however. With my brother in the hospital for a good chunk of my childhood, it was he that would play games and read books with me.

There is something to be said for a parent, grandparent or another adult who takes the time to play with a child. I think it is in those moments that a child feels the most loved and enjoyed and delighted in - just for being who they are. It reminds a child that they are worthy of not just love, but of your time and energy. It tells them that their interests and likes are important to someone other than themselves.

When a child hasn't experienced what it is like for someone (mainly their parents) to play with them or know what it is like just to be a delight to someone, it can set them up for a life of believing lies that they are worthless, unlovable, and that they don't matter. That alters how they live their life, make decision, and relate to others. I have found this to be true not just for me because of my mother's absence, but many others whose story I know well.

When I was pregnant a woman gave me one piece of advice for motherhood. "Play. Play with that baby. Don't you wait until you have grand babies to make time to play. You leave those dishes in the sink, and forget about that laundry. Play, play, play with that boy of yours."

I haven't forgotten that piece of advice. And since then as I have recalled what playtime looked like in childhood, I have realized the importance of taking time out to play with Tommy. And not just reading books or watching Sesame Street together. But getting down on his level and playing with his toys. Sitting on the floor in front of the refrigerator and learning ABC's. Blowing bubbles. Chasing him through the house. Going for walks outside - he now looks for my hand and grabs on to it and leads me where we go. (Melts my mommy heart...)

And over the weekend, I made up a new game with his cars. I got out a random shelf that we don't use and set it up like a ramp. I showed Tommy how to roll the cars down the ramp and we watched car after car crash into one another at the bottom.
It was a fun game and it lasted almost a whole hour. He had a blast. And you know what? So did I.
Sometimes I feel like I'm incredibly clueless when it comes to raising a boy. Probably because I'm incredibly "girly." But if I watch closely and pay attention, Tommy usually invites me to something fun or adventurous. Nothing brings me greater joy than seeing his laughs and giggles when we are playing one of our many games together.

His mouth is full of cereal. I can't stop him from stuffing his mouth FULL. He wants to hurry up and eat so he can get back to playing. *sigh*
I hope that as he grows I continue to take time out to just play. To turn the TV off, put my phone down, leave the chores and do what he is interested in with him. I hope he remembers how much he was loved, enjoyed and delighted in. Just for being Tommy.

Six months in....

Back in September, Todd put on a red shirt and some khaki pants and headed off to a new job in addition to the one he already had. After I quit working full time and fell into a comfortable part-time working groove, we quickly became aware that we were going to need additional income to continue making ends meet. We decided pizza delivering provided the most flexibility seeing as Todd was looking for something on evenings and Saturdays. Our hope was that after six months, we could have some of our bills paid off entirely and would no longer need his second income.

And then my car died in January leaving us with another car payment and prolonging our original 6 to 8 month plan of Todd having to work two jobs. And such is life sometimes.

Here we are, slightly over six months later. He is still wearing the same red shirt and khaki pants. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday evening after he has already put in a full day's work, he heads off to job #2 to work until they decide he can come home. Saturdays are the worst. He is sometimes scheduled all day long and I'm lucky if I see him before midnight. Todd is exhausted. And yet he presses on for us.

The last month or so has felt the hardest on us. His absence has taken a toll on our marriage to be sure. No good marriage can thrive on mere moments spent together in the evening and then one full day as a family. Quality time is essential for love to thrive and grow and flourish. It is evident that Tommy and I feel the weight of what Todd's sacrifices are costing us. All in all, I am over it. We are all desperate for it to end.

I'm not quite sure how women do it - the women who have husbands that serve in the military and are gone for months or longer at a time. I guess maybe God gives all of us a certain measure of strength we need for our own lives I suppose.

When he started this, we felt like we were in a really good place. We both felt strong and connected and we knew we could get through this. Six months in though, we have grown weary and frustrated. Not being able to connect or see each other as often as we used to has drained us of much joy and excitement.

I want my husband back. I am ready for the evenings where we would come home from work and grill a steak in the evenings and watch Tommy run in and out of the back door while dinner was being prepared. I want to be able to take evening walks together like we used to. I need more Saturdays that look like trips to the park and date night for us. I am so ready for Sunday to not be our only day together. And though Tommy can't express it the way I do, I know he wants his dad back too. He calls for him every morning. And when I say "Daddy is at work buddy, " he lets out a fussy whine because he knows what that means. My heart has broken countless times when we've had to wave bye-bye to daddy and I've had to hold my screaming boy in my arms because he is angry that dad is gone again and he doesn't understand why.

Last week we received a glimmer of new hope.

I will have been at my job a full year this coming June, and I know that some kind of pay raise is around the corner. But more than that, the company is growing rapidly and there will be a definite need for me to either take on more hours to cover the work load, or to hire another part-time person to assist me with my duties. We had discussed this when I interviewed last year - that my position was probably going to grow into a full-time one eventually. I talked with my employers in great detail about what this could look like in the coming months. They cast vision for what they see and desire me to do as the company grows.

In all that we talked about, they are continuing to gift me with flexibility. I can still set my own hours. I don't have to be in at exactly 8 or leave at exactly 5. I can take a day off when I need one. I can do work from home and don't have to do everything at the office. I don't have to work a full 40 hour work week. If I ever feel like I need to go back to fewer hours, I can do that and be involved in the hiring process of having someone to help me.

It almost feels too good to be true in a way. And yet, it's not. The people I work for appreciate and care about me and understand the importance a measure of flexibility for all of their employees. I was told the other day that they had the utmost respect for me - how I worked, how I lived out my faith, and how I presented myself and acted to others in the office. I sat there a little dumbfounded and feeling incredibly grateful to the Lord who had orchestrated all of this in the first place. If I hadn't have walked away from my last job and trusted God with our finances and future, I wouldn't be here.

God is way cool like that. He knows what He's doing even when I think He's crazy.

So I could be going back to work on a more full-time basis. But it feels like a choice this time - not something I'm forced into. And with it comes freedom and flexibility; things that don't often come with any full-time position.

And in all of this news with working more in the coming months is the thought in the back of my mind. That gnawing desire of my dream for another baby. We have no clue if it will happen or not and we continue to just remain open to the possibility until God and my Rheumatoid Arthritis says it's not anymore. I guess I am choosing to remain hopeful in my anticipation about that while continuing on with life and being where I am at too.

For now, it feels very exciting knowing that this crappy season of life will be coming to an end soon. Though we are months away yet, it has an end. It has an END!!!!

And to celebrate, we will probably be having a "burn the red pizza delivery shirt" party!

Family Time

Sometimes we skip church on Sundays. We don't do this all the time, but sometimes we feel the need to just be together as a family. With Todd working two jobs right now, family time feels like a special event, not the norm. So, yesterday was one of those kinds of Sundays. It felt like Todd wasn't even home the majority of the weekend (and it didn't just feel like it - that's how it was) and both Tommy and I needed some quality time together as a family.

We loaded up in the car and went in the opposition direction of our church. We made a quick stop at Krispy Kreme for a couple of fresh, warm, glazed doughnuts and headed out to a new park that we've heard about.

Tommy had a blast.
And so did his daddy, who is just a big kid.
Our moments together these days seem far and few between. And it's feeling harder. Yet, we are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel to this whole second job for Todd. We are hopeful that sometime this summer he can finally quit thanks to some new opportunities going on with my job. I'll expound on that later....

Last night, we redeemed some gift cards at Chilis that I had received for my birthday and had a long talk about where we were and how hard it felt and what we both needed to keep going. We are so ready for this season of pizza delivering and hardly ever seeing each other to come to an end.
Tommy is at such a fun age right now and he is learning new things at a rapid rate every day, and Todd is missing out on a lot of those things. The moments we get to spend with him together as a family unit feel rare, and we try to make them special and memorable. Not just for Tommy, but for us too. It was a lovely morning of fellowship, of fun, of playing and laughter.
After a couple of hours of fun at the park, Tommy got tuckered out and it was time to go. He even said "Night, night."
I so enjoy our precious family time. My husband and my son bring such joy and light into my life. Our little Sunday morning in the park was needed for all of us. We may not have been in church, but God was most definitely there.

We're Learning!

In the last few weeks, my son has started learning his ABC's. We have these foam letters that he plays with in the bathtub. They stick to the wall and I'm pretty sure he's had a ton of fun putting them on the sides of the tub and knocking them back down into the water. But somewhere in all of the playing, he has been learning them!

He can name almost every letter and point to most of them when you ask where they are. A few letters are still confusing to him - like N's and Z's. I'm a little surprised that he was interested in letters - I guess because it feels early to be learning them. But since he has shown such interest, I figured it was time. We have a couple of books and some magnet letters on the fridge that we use for learning ABC's. And of course Sesame Street has been great for teaching him letters as well. I know every mother thinks their own child is a genius, but I'm pretty sure that he is.

On Sunday when we were out to lunch, he randomly decided that it was officially time to eat with utensils. He ate all of his green beans that day with a fork. I was so proud! He has some scooping issues, but he likes to eat by himself with a fork and spoon now.
It never ceases to amaze me how quickly he grows and can learn things. His mind is like a sponge and he picks up everything! He loves to be read to. He loves to go outside and play. He is a wonder to watch as he experiences new things all the time. I am loving listening to him learn to say new words every single day now. His newest words are cookie, hello, outside, shoes, nice blankie (sounds like bank though), truck, bubbies, (how he says bubbles!) - just to name a few.
My "Major Hunk" and his Major Hunk daddy. This picture is not relevant at all to anything I've had to say, but I had to post this because they are both so incredibly good looking.

Happy Friday everyone!

Paperdolls

When I was a little girl, going to my Grammy's house was one of my most favorite things to do. I would pack up my little red suitcase with my "jammies" and my toothbrush and head off to her house where we would make chocolate chip cookies and read books together.

With my brother in and out of the hospital throughout my childhood, I spent a lot of nights at her house as days at the hospital were long and boring for a young girl who couldn't really fathom what was all going on at the time. Memories with my Grammy though during those years are special and I will treasure them always.

As I grew older some of the things we did together changed a bit. She would take me shopping for a new outfit or take me somewhere to swim or ride horses. And some things remained the same, as we always made cookies or pie or homemade pizza. But one thing that we did together as I grew was look at the old paperdolls she had in a special trunk of things that belonged to her own mother.

They were kept in an old book.
A book from 1926 actually. An old magazine. In the pages of this magazine were old and antique paperdolls that her mother had kept and collected.
I can still remember going through those pages for the first time. Grammy instructed me how to be gentle with the old pages and how to pick up each paper doll with carefulness.

This doll was my favorite. She had the prettiest hair and the cutest outfits to put her in.
Page after page were little treasures to unlock. I would sometimes make up stories about each doll and where they were going in each outfit. I would dream about having a pretty dresses like the dolls had and I would imagine about how much fun I could have in a grand party dress and wonder what it would be like to carry a parasol every where I went. Grammy would listen to my stories and play with me. Those were moments I felt delighted in and enjoyed and loved. Oh to be a little girl again with my Grammy....
For my 30th birthday my Grammy asked me if there was anything she had of hers that I would like to have. And immediately my mind ran to the paperdolls. Oh to have them for always - that would be such a treasure to me.
The night of my 30th birthday I opened up a bag from my Grammy. After getting through the tissue paper inside, I uncovered the old book with the beautiful paperdolls. I began to cry and before I said anything, I actually smelled the book and then smiled. It smelt like my childhood days spent at Grammy's house. It smelt like chocolate chip cookies and story books and dress up. It smelt like laughter and tears and shopping trips to buy a new dress. It smelt like the sweet memories we had made together so long ago.

They may be just paper, but they may as well be priceless gems or expensive china. And I have found myself dreaming about what it would be like to share them with my daughter someday.

My Grammy didn't just give me paperdolls. She gave me memories of a time when we were best friends and when it felt good and lovely to just be a little girl.

I love you my sweet Grammy. And you will always be my very first best friend.

Weighty Wonders

I wonder if food will ever just be food to me. Just the stuff I eat when I'm hungry and the fuel my body needs to get through the day.

I wonder if I will ever not crave Cheetos, or powdered doughnuts or chicken nuggets. Or 5,000 other things that are "bad" for me.

I wonder if I will ever love spinach salads or asparagus or whole wheat pasta. Or ground turkey meat instead of ground beef. Blech.

I wonder if I will ever not be the fat girl at the table picking at my food because I'm too embarrassed to eat in front of anyone.

I wonder if I will ever stop caring what others think about me and the struggle I so publicly wear around for others to observe, when I know that I am trying and I am surrounded by people that love me.

I wonder why I care so much what others think of me that don't know me or don't know me well.

I wonder if I will ever be in a clothing size again that isn't a 20-something.

I wonder if I will ever not desire to go to food when I'm feeling hurt or sad or blah inside on a consistent basis.

I wonder if I will feel anything inside but the feeling of what a failure I am when it comes to my weight.

I wonder if I will ever stop sabotaging myself when I'm feeling successful and doing well with my eating and exercising.

I wonder how many more times I will have to get back up and try again and again. Because this cycle is old.

I wonder if I will ever feel comfortable in public in a bathing suit.

I wonder if my issues with food and weight will ever be a thing of the past or if it will be present with me ever day regardless of my size or success.

I wonder if I will ever blog about how much weight I've lost instead of where I am still finding myself.

I wonder if the help I'm getting is helping.

I wonder if I am beyond help sometimes.

Just wondering today. It's been one of those days....

Her name was Kelly.

I think we met in choir at the end of seventh grade. I remember that she had somehow sat on a Twinkie at lunch and her black shorts were covered in some kind of Twinkie paste that no amount of water could get out. Our choir teacher humiliated her about it and she walked out of the choir room and left class. I don't know if she ever got in trouble for doing that, but I admired her bravery in not putting up with Mrs. Hunsucker's cruelness about the whole thing.

I think after that, we became friends who would talk about how much we hated our choir teacher and how awful it was that she had ever sat on a Twinkie. Because who does that happen to?

We were the best of friends in 8th and 9th grade and some into our 10th grade year as well. We watched movies together. We wrote notes to each other in special spiral notebooks that we would give back and forth to each other. We went to the mall on a regular basis. We talked about our crushes that we had on the boys in school. And she was the friend that was with me when my brother died. We tried to figure out death and God and things that were far deeper than our early teenage minds could even begin to comprehend.

Kelly and I got together several years ago right before I got married and reconnected again. I ran into her mom somewhere and she gave me her number and told me to get in touch with her. It felt just like old times and it was fun to see each other as adults - there was years worth of life to be caught up on. At that time, neither of us could remember why we had fallen out of touch in high school - we decided that somehow we had just drifted away perhaps.

Later, I dug into my journals that I saved from teenagehood and learned why we hadn't stayed friends. Somewhere around the time of my parent's separation I decided I didn't want to be friends with her anymore. I had felt like we had nothing in common and I just quit showing up to lunch with her or talking to her in class. I felt like such a brat. And I wondered why I did such a thing? It felt awful to find out that I was the one who was responsible for our friendship not lasting and I was curious as to why I had forgotten about what happened until I read my 16 year old's notes.

We met up yesterday for lunch - thanks to the wonders of Facebook and bringing old friends together again.

After catching up on another few years of life that we had missed, I told her about what I had read in my journals about sabotaging our friendship. And I apologized for being a brat though she never really thought that about me.

As I've had the chance to think about my actions as my 16 year old self and now that I have learned a great deal about who I am and why I do some of the things I do, I am pretty sure that I set out to sabotage something great. During those teenage years, I felt so miserable and I didn't know how to feel anything but sadness. I'm pretty sure I was clinically depressed during that time, thought it was never diagnosed and I never sought help for it. I remember making everything miserable around me so that sitting in my pain felt more comforting. I remember quitting good things - like competing for All-State Choir, and backing out of fun activities with friends because I wanted to stay home and just feel sorry for myself. Maybe to someone reading about such a thing it might sound stupid or it doesn't make sense. But it makes sense to me now as an adult.

I've spent years trying to kill good and happy and joyful things, along with good relationships, because feeling miserable has the comfort of being familiar and known to me. It's been a very depraved and small way of living. And now I recognize that pattern, and make a conscious effort to live differently. I feel saddened as I think about similar relationships that look like Kelly and me. It's a common thread over the years.

Kelly talked yesterday about wanting to take me wine tasting, especially since I don't like wine and I'm convinced I could never find a wine I liked. I've wanted to like wine, I just think it's bitter and I apparently have a lousy and very unsophisticated palate. She expressed a desire to hang out more and try to rekindle a lost friendship too. Which feels like a precious gift and a taste of redemption for me.

We both married men named Todd. Which I think is a very cute coincidence. We've come a long way from talking about boys and going to the mall. And as we talked about shoes and our favorite TV shows and some of the sillier more simple things in life, I remembered how we had become such good friends when we were just girls. It was a very sweet time and I hope for more of it.

I'm smiling today at the thought of that sweet friendship that has come back around to me again. And I'm smiling at myself as I recognize where new patterns in my life are more normal now than some of my older ways of relating. It feels like victory or maturity. Maybe both. But it feels good and makes me smile.