And so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled. Titus 2:4-5 (ESV)
I remember from childhood how much I loved my mom being home and how hard it was for my sisters and I went she joined the working community. When I grew up and had my own children, being home was important to me. However, by this time, moms everywhere worked so being a stay-home mom was not as popular. I remember feeling very put on the spot when people would find out that’s what I did all day, every day. I got commendations for choosing that life, but I got judgement, too.
Over the years, I’ve had jobs here and there, but nothing ever lasted longer than 8-9 months. During that time, it would start to really be a burden not to be home caring for my youngsters, but paying someone else to do it. Of course, once this hit me, I had a few more children to contend with. At this point, my husband and I decided that it would be better for me to stay home. So, I did. For years, I’ve been a stay home mom and I’m okay with that. In fact, I would rather it be that way. My children not only need me to be home, but we want them to learn who we are and what we believe. Teaching them the importance of God and faith can’t be done by someone else. God has called me to be a wife and a mother; therefore, it is I who can best teach my little girls that role.
It is not up to me how other women raise their children, under what beliefs, or with what faith, but for me…..It’s important to my husband and I that I be my children’s teacher, of life and faith throughout the day. Honestly, house and home fell apart during each of my employed stints and it just wasn’t worth it. What they are learning during these precious childhood years will last through their life; therefore, teaching them the word of God is crucial to us.
Because, as everyone knows, with God anything is possible. Without him, nothing.
It’s been awhile, I know, but here goes it…..
Our up and coming 2017 Graduate: D. Wallace
(if you know him, you know what the initials stand for)
Wt: 8 lbs 5 oz
Ht: 21″ long
Blue eyes, Blackish-Brown hair
Wt: 150 lbs
Ht: 5 ft 10 in
Blue eyes, Brown hair
As a baby, he was colicky so he cried a lot. He liked to be snuggled close, held tightly. He was a nervous baby, but he was funny and loving and excited by the world around him. When his little brother came along a couple years later, he helped soothe baby brother during baby brother’s crying bouts (which weren’t often, he was much happier baby). Mr. D was quite protective of baby brother and loved to play with him, make him laugh, snuggle him. In those toddler years, Mr. D was easy to potty train, loved being outside, was picky about his food, and enjoyed playing anything with a ball — as most toddlers do 🙂 He was always excited when his dad got home, wanted to ride the motorcycle with his dad, and couldn’t wait to ‘help’ his dad…..you know! Tools! With me, he wanted to be helpful with baby brother or whatever else I was doing, wanted me to keep him entertained, and wanted to play at the park.
Over the next few years, as he entered elementary-age childhood, he became more independent, he got involved in sports from a very young age. He enjoyed swimming, track, basketball, football, wrestling, and gymnastics (maybe a few more). With each passing year, he became a little more of who he is, his friendships grew stronger, and his sports involvement became more focused. In those elementary years, he discovered more about himself: his likes/dislikes, his comforts/sorrows, his strengths/weaknesses, and he accumulated some successes/failures.
As he entered middle and high school, he had pretty much narrowed down his sports activities to basketball and football, with football being priority. He has developed his own values based on what he’s been taught and what he’s fine-tuned for himself at his age. He’s spent more time building his friendships and one special relationship (she knows who she is ♥), meeting his responsibilities of work and school, and cementing the familial bonds over the last few years. He’s still an anxious person who worries all the time. He’s still a joy to be around and one who can make people laugh, but is not afraid to say what he thinks — within reason, of course. He’s got a wonderful personality and will only continue fine-tuning the fine young man that he already is.
It all seems to be going so fast now. To soon the little booger will be graduated and off to college.
I love this young man with all my heart and I am so very proud of him ♥♥♥
More boys coming up in the house, but tonight I was at the first home game of my Picadilly’s last year of high school football – senior year.
First, before the mushy tribute to my 2016-2017 graduating young man, I’d like to say how exciting this game was. His team lost, but there were some very thrilling highlights. And, of course, it was awesome just being there to watch my son play!
Now for the mushy……
All the many years ago, when this little guy was still just a wee-wittle guy (crying all the time which could have been colick or the nerves/patience of your parents), my mind never looked to his future. Not because I didn’t envision a future for him, but because I was so busy — busy trying to get us both through those first couple of years (looking back, maybe I was more anxious than I realized), busy loving him, caring for him, raising him. When his dad and I broke up, I just got busier being his mom because time with him became limited as he lived/s with his dad. Over the years, I’ve watched him grow and change, throw fits and get mad, laugh and cry. I’ve watched him succeed and fail. I have watched him take what his dad and I have taught him to heart and to fine tune those teachings into what makes him who he is — his values, his convictions, his strengths and weaknesses, his quirks, his views. I watched as maturity began to set in. No, I am under no illusions that he’s as mature as he will ever be….only time and life experience can do that, but he’s as mature as any other kid his age.
I’ve witnessed his hurts. I’ve held him through his tears. I’ve nursed his broken heart episodes. I’ve bandaged his boo-boos. I’ve spent 17 years building a relationship with this softer-than-he-will-ever-admit soul who changed my world. I wholeheartedly and happily admit he’s the momma’s boy in our home who isn’t so momma’s-boyish that it hinders his growth (as I’ve personally witnessed with some of the male species I’ve met). I have been cause, a time or two…., for some of his sadnesses, angry outbursts, tears, smiles, and laughter. I’ve prayed endlessly for him. I continue to pray for him, his life now, his future – whatever it may be. I’ve been there for him and I’ve been selfish. I wasn’t there with him on his first day of grade school, but I volunteered in his classroom numerous times through his grade school years. I haven’t made every game of every sport that he’s ever played, but I’ve tried to make it to most of them. I’ve been his biggest fan his whole life, but I haven’t been the most visible one at times. I’ve sat quietly, for the most part, in the background – greedily taking all the time I could have with him. Throughout the years, that time has been consistent although at different points more frequent. Whatever it was, it was every bit appreciated and cherished. As with any parent, I have years of memories that we’re created sitting tucked away and safe in the Picadilly vault that comes built within every parent for his/her child.
And now we are here – his senior year.
I am not sure about most parents and their feelings about the first senior, but me….
Me – I am excited and sad. I am anxiously awaiting the impending date of his graduation. Anxiously, I say, because my heart is heavy with the thought of him beginning his life as an adult, stepping into this big world without a thought of what is to come. Anxiously because my heart is full of joy at the young man he is now, the young man he is becoming, and the future for him. I have all the doubts of any mother. I have all the hopes of any parent. I have all the dreams (my own and ones he’s talked about) for him. I am trying to convince myself that he’s ready to be in this world. However, the confidence that his dad and I properly prepared him is somewhat lacking.
Then, I have to remember, my dreams for him are not as important as his dreams for himself. My fears are big, but his are just as big, possibly bigger (although he will never admit it). As I sat to watch his first home game of his last year of high school football – his senior year, it took me back. Back to my senior year. Back to his father. Back to that moment in time, senior/junior year, when his father and I found out we were going to become parents.
Never, ever, ever have I regretted the decision to bring that precious little boy into the world. In fact, nothing else but delivering a healthy baby ever occurred to me when I found out about this wonderful bundle of joy. I have never regretted the relationship that allowed him to be created. I have loved every moment (even the hard ones and being a young mom there were plenty) of being his mom. As I sat and watched the game, I watched my ‘little’ big young man out on that field, willing him to enjoy every moment of this year. I said a prayer to the Lord, as I sat cheering in the stands, that he would make this year one of his most memorable ones yet, but one in which he remains safe and continues to make the right choices. As I sat and watched my not-so-perfect, but oh-so-perfect son scuff his cleat through the grass with some disappointment after a dropped ball , I witnessed – one more time – his strong personality, strong as it can be for his age. I looked at him to see what I’ve seen a million times over – my little boy who is now living in an almost full-grown body (a little more growing yet, I think).
My little boy.
My little boy with a heart of gold.
My little boy who cried at the boo-boos who now brushes off the boo-boos.
My little boy who gets anxious when something changes in his routine — I wouldn’t ever believe the anxiety if I didn’t witness it myself. (I am not an anxious person ??? – at least I don’t think so – and I am not sure about his dad as the years since our break-up are many).
My little boy who wanted to be just like his daddy when he was still a little boy, but grew up so different from his dad in so many ways, yet, not so different really at all.
My little boy who seems so gruff and cocky at first meeting, but who’s heart melts as he scoops up his little baby sister in his arms, to give her loves after not seeing her throughout the week. The very same little girl who’s nails he painted when she asked.
My little boy who has made mistakes because we all do, but never been in any real trouble. He’s shown much maturity and responsibility in his teen years. One thankful momma right here!
My little boy who shows much bravado, but a little boy who I know the ‘real’ him, that part of him he only shows to the people that mean the most to him.
My little boy who is so fiercely protective of those that he loves.
My little boy who’s never been in a fight with anyone other than his brother/s (that ever popular sibling fighting/wrestling), who (I’m hoping) tries to avoid fighting, but who would (I know) stand his ground when needed, who would defend someone who needed defending, who doesn’t anticipate a fight (encourage a fight) but would defend himself in a fight without succumbing to fear.
My little boy who deflects uncomfortable situations with trying to make others laugh.
My little boy who likes to be ‘in’ the attention at times, but who also likes to give the attention at times.
My little boy who shows strength, character, selfishness, love, laughter, forgiveness, rudeness and/or opinionated-ness, and kindness.
And I love each and every part of who is. I love the kindness in his heart. I love the love he spreads around him. I love – don’t always like, but always love – the stinky attitude he gets. Chalk it up to some rudeness just because, teenage angst, and being a boy (yes, because he’s a boy! wired completely different than me – a female counterpart 😉 ).
My Picadilly, this is written especially for you, for the first person I fell in love with without expecting anything back – the epitome of love. I was but a child when I had you who grew into a young woman, a mother, overnight. Being pregnant was the first step in my motherhood journey, but you made me into a mom. You have taught me a lot about myself, about life as a parent over the course of your life. I love you, buddy. I love you more than you will ever know. And I am so very proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far and of all the future accomplishments you are going to achieve. I am so very happy that I was blessed to be your mom, to bring you into this world, to watch you grow, and get to continue to be your biggest fan, now and in the future.
I am praying that you will make this a great year. In fact, I am demanding that you make this an awesome year. As they say, you only get this year once. When it’s over, it’s over. You can’t go back. You can’t undo. You can’t relive. So live it. Stay out of trouble but don’t be afraid to make mistakes — small ones ;). Enjoy this year because being a senior is a BIG stepping stone into the adult world. After this, you are pretty much accountable for every action you take, every reaction you make –even more so than in these previous years because when you graduate, the law (maybe not the world and never me, but the law) will see you as an adult.
Love mom ❤
One mushy writing down, a few dozen more to go.
Happy Senior Year, My Picadilly. I love you to the moon and back ♥♥♥
So, all of you know of the heart murmur that was discovered at our daughter’s well child check-up a week or so ago.
Unfortunately, it turns out that it’s so much more than that.
After the echo-cardiogram following that well-child check, the doctors have now determined that the murmur was in fact a sign of something called atrial septal defect (ASD), which is a congenital heart defect. As I mentioned in a previous post, she had heart arrhythmia (more on her story) when she was born and the doctors cleared her at her 2 week check-up.
When hearing the news – barely because as soon as I heard the doctor’s dreaded words that something was, in fact, wrong with my sweet little girl, I stopped listening (all I could hear was that something was wrong) – the question that came into my mind: What gets done to correct ASD?
After getting off the phone with the doctor, I cried. And then I called my husband, who in all his sweetness, was very reassuring. I told him as much as I could recall from the phone call and asked him to call the doctor so he could hear the news from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. I wanted him to get a better understanding so he could explain it more to me. It worked wonderfully. We learned that although it’s not an ideal experience for a child, it’s not uncommon. The doctor reassured us that it’s good that we found it at her age now rather than later in life.
Which leads me back to the question: What is done to correct ASD? The options are open heart surgery or catheter procedure, both of which sound terribly uncomfortable. However, the catheter procedure is probably more favorable.
At this point, my fears are running rampant through my mind. Will the doctors be able to fix it? Will something terrible happen during surgery? Is she going to be okay until surgery? She’s going to be so scared when she does find out. (We haven’t told her anything yet.) Reactions to the anesthesia. Surgeons making a mistake. Recovery time. After-affects of the correction. And so much more.
The uncertainty right now is like a knot in my stomach that won’t go away. Knowing about the ASD has not taken over my every thought as I have more children, a husband, a home, etc. to worry about and take care of, but it’s always in the forefront of my brain. It pops up throughout the day, more so in the evening after the kids are settled and in bed. I cry in the quietness almost every night as my husband holds me and offers his reassurance. He’s said to me a few times since learning of this awful news that I should stay positive, trust in God. At hearing his words, I’ve shown some frustration, but I know…he’s right. Again 😉 So, here I sit, thinking about God, trying to trust in Him…trying to do as I’ve been telling everyone to do for a long while. I remember all the times I’ve said it’s not God that causes heartache. It’s not God’s plan to hurt us. I remember not to long ago about a little child that was killed and my words of encouragement were to trust in God, turn the worries and concerns over to Him. Someone else replied with some nonsense about where is God when something bad happens. And, again, I responded to this person with the exact words I just spoke: It’s not God’s fault. He doesn’t cause the heartache.
And now I am here. Questioning. Doubting. Wondering what I did to create this hardship for my daughter. Asking why? Why my daughter? And I realize, as much as I believe in God and all His goodness….I don’t understand a darn thing. I understand that He is way more powerful than my mind, anyone’s mind, can fathom. As for anything else, I am lost.
So, I have been praying. I am asking once again that if you are reading this then please take a moment to pray. Pray for our daughter. And to pray for me as well. Is that selfish of me?
Anyway, back to my daughter’s story…..
What happens now? What’s next?
She has another appointment with a pediatric cardiologist through the health care system we primarily use coming up at the end of the month. Shortly after that, she will have her first visit with the doctor at Mayo Clinic for his evaluation to determine his plan of care. We will know more at that point concerning surgery/procedure, preparation for surgery, recovery time, restrictions/limitations, and after-care.
Until then, please just continue to pray for her. Also, I have been reading the Bible, looking for scripture to help me get through this time, if anyone has any verses in mind that may be helpful, it would be much appreciated.
One popular comment I hear when I tell people about the number of children we have is:
“Oh, you must be so busy.”
For a very long time my conclusion was this:
“If you have more than one child, the number doesn’t really matter. A mother with only two kids can be just as or even more busy than me with 8 children.”
Pretty much all my time is spent with my children, taking care of my home, or doing something family oriented. Times away from them include date nights with my hunny, trips mu husband and I have taken, or visits with friends or family when my hubby is home. Then there’s the times that my hubby takes the children with him which is something that happened most recently. He took five of the eight kiddos with him for the day to the county fair. I knew it was going to be a long day with no rest time or reprieve for the young ones so I decided to stay home with them.
Turns out that two kids for the day was very simple. I reached a new conclusion:
Yes, I am busier with 8 children than I would be with 2, 3, etc. etc.
And that got me to thinkin’…..
I have grown so used to having all the kids with me pretty much all the time because that’s what my husband and I have decided is best for our children. And I love it! I am so very thankful that I am able to stay home with them. The day he had most of the kids with him, I felt……I didn’t quite know what to do. The girls and I enjoyed that time together. Reading, coloring, playing, going for a couple of walks, visiting my sisters….it was a great day. It wasn’t different than our run-of-the-mill days except there were only two kids and I realized how much quieter it was in the house. Less arguing, less door slams from running in and out, less food to prepare……just less work in general and this brought to mind my early motherhood years when I had my first child.
I enjoyed that day when it was just the two girls and I, but I appreciate having all my kids. I wouldn’t change it for all the gold in the world. For anything. I would have each and every one of them all over again if I was given a re-do.
Twelve years ago I met the man I am blessed to call my husband. He wasn’t a prince by any means. He came from a working class family who attended Mass multiple times a week. They have a deeply rooted faith in God that extends to every facet of their life. He was taught to work hard and earn an honest living which is evident in everything he does. He worked hard, but he also played hard. His interests were wide and his responsibilities low. He had no wife — obviously. He had no children. He had no debt. He worked for his money and he saved it. At that point in his life, he was able to pay cash for most purchases. His work required him to travel so he didn’t put down roots of his own. When he was home (the town where he was born and raised) from a job, he stayed with his folks. When he wasn’t home, he was working. As I said, no prince by Webster’s Dictionary definition, but he WAS, IS and always WILL BE my prince. We fell crazy mad in love and have been together every since. We had to work at it. A LOT! But here we are, 12 years later and still going strong, through outside issues, children, etc….you know, just life.
But, the focus here is not he and I per se, but what we created. I brought three children into the relationship with me and we proceeded to have five more, as most of my readers know. So, there it be….what we created: our first creation turned out to be twins. Boys! When we found out I was pregnant that first time, he told me a story. Without including all the detail, the story basically consists of his prayer to God that he not have kids until he was 25.
So, here we are, 12 years later and quickly approaching the birthday of our first creation: our twins. What a blessing that pregnancy turned out to be. Don’t get me wrong, all my pregnancies have been a blessing. How could they not? Almost every one ended with a beautiful, tiny little human being placed in my arms. We did have a miscarriage at one point, but that little blessing who didn’t make it into my arms was surely welcomed into his/her forever home: heaven. Anyway, the pregnancy with the twins turned out to be a blessing for multiple reasons:
- They were twins! It was scary, but exhilarating. We were super excited!
- They were their dad’s birthday present as the three of them share a birthday, and….drum roll please….
- They were born on his 25th birthday!
Now, someone please tell me that God doesn’t answer our prayers!
We have created many stories in our years together, but that story has to be my all-time favorite!
I love my wonderful husband to the moon and back.
And I love the family that we have created as he has loved the three whom I brought into the relationship with me without skipping a beat. We are truly gracious for the wonderful man that my husband is. Servant to God. Wonderful man. Amazing husband. Fantastic father.
Happy birthday to the man I love, the man who taught me the true meaning of lifetime love. I wouldn’t want to share this life with anyone else. Every day I wake up to a prayer that gets answered over and over with each rising sun. For that, my heart leaps with joy.
Happy birthday to our twin boys who added more of everything into our lives. Twin A and Twin B, yes you are twins –identical even — but don’t think for one second that one is less valued because both of you are unique, created exactly as God planned. We are grateful for each of you.
And I am one lucky lady……9 times over ❤
An apology to some can be extremely difficult.
One evening I got into an argument with my oldest son because he refused to apologize for a simple mistake, not on his part, that ended with something that shouldn’t have been said to anyone, let alone his brother. Later on, I found out that he did apologize, but his whole attitude with me was that he had no reason to apologize because what happened was not his fault. He failed to understand that I wasn’t blaming him for what happened, but I was holding him accountable for the words that he used as nobody made him use those words.
Oftentimes, when my husband and I get into disagreement he has a hard time apologizing. I always assume that pride prohibits him from apologizing for what he has said or done that led to the argument. I do not blame him for each argument that we get into, but again, I do blame him for his actions and his words.
One question: why is so hard for one to apologize, but another person can apologize so easily?
I often apologize, profusely even, for things I’ve done that cause hurt for another or cause undue hardship on another. It’s in my nature. I have no problem admitting I am wrong, but for some people it’s like being on the precipice whereas apologizing equals that slight move in the wrong direction resulting in falling over the edge.
I am slowly learning that I can influence those around me to do the right thing by doing the right thing myself. I am slowly learning that I am accountable only for my behaviors. I can’t change someone else’s behaviors, but I can change how I react to the things that cause me to feel angry or hurt.
As they say, lead by example because actions do speak louder than words.
Still in the midst of raising children, I find myself often questioning how I’ve handled something, my response to different things, my actions, my choice of words….whatever it may be. I question, I wonder, I doubt my parenting skills and not because I feel like I’m doing it all wrong, but because I know that I am human. I make mistakes as I am still learning as well. Each child is different. Their actions, their words, their thoughts, their reactions, their priorities….all different. Age is a factor. Mentality is a factor. Personality is a factor. Second-guessing oneself is really the pits.
Recently, I met someone a consider my friend. She’s a really great mom. She always acts so calm and collected. She never seems to lose her temper and has the patience of a saint. I know that we shouldn’t compare ourselves in any facet of our life with anyone else because I realize each on of is created exactly how God intended us to be. Sometimes, when I’m feeling like the worst parent in the world, I admire the kind of parent my friend is. However, I realize that although she may be a good parent to her children, she may have the patience of a saint, she may have it all together, I don’t know her story. I don’t live in her home so comparisons are moot. And I know that God has blessed me with these wonderful children because He knows I am who can give them what they need, which is true for any parent. At the same time, parents must reach their parenting potential with their children.
Below is a list of just a few things I’ve learned over the years:
- When speaking with children, speak to them on their level (height-wise). For a long while now, when I speak with my kids, I make sure to have their attention by either sitting down so we are face-to-face or standing with them as some are close to my height. The ones that are taller, are teenagers and pay more attention when spoken to.
- Discern where the problem is exactly before dolling out punishment. For instance, if my girls are pushing one another or screaming at the top of their lungs, the first thing I do is find out where the problem started so I can walk them through solving the problem. For instance, one took a toy from another (let’s face it, this happens constantly) so she who lost the toy slaps the one who took it and chaos ensues. By determining the problem, I can then explain that one shouldn’t take toys, but it’s also not okay to slap or in any other way cause harm to another. Knowing the ‘why’ for the behavior helps to remove the behavior.
- Redirection works pretty well in most situations. I have found that the more stubborn a child is, the less redirection does work, but with some coaxing it will.
- A big cause of concern for me over my years of parenting is bribing children. This in no way teaches a child anything. Yes, it does get the behavior that a parent is looking for, but a child walks away learning that he/she only has to act in an unreasonable manner to gain the reward. The child is not learning the behavior is wrong. The child is not learning the proper behavior. The child is not learning self-control.
- Most of all, it’s not the quantity of time spent with a child, it’s the quality. How a parent engages with their child is much more important than how much time is spent with the child. In a half-hour outing, fully engaged (talking, playing, focused interaction), a parent accomplishes so much more than the parent who sits ideally with their child for a whole afternoon, each focused on their own thing (tv, computer, yard work, etc). Both times spent with child benefit the child, but the more focused a parent is on time spent the better off not only will the child be, but also the parent-child relationship.
Children are blessings from above. A parents’ responsibility to raise these blessings in a way that is pleasing to God is a responsibility placed upon us that He knows we can fulfill.
I recently made a post about a trip that my husband and I took with my father-in-law….it was business, but we made time for play 🙂
My kiddos were divided between my parents’ house and my mother-in-law’s house because she declined to go on the trip because…well I don’t really know why but she did want to keep my girls.
Yay! Some time for me…some time with my husband….some time away from the kids. Every parents dream, right? It’s not unheard of to have some time away from the responsibilities of parenthood. I mean, it happens quite a bit. There’s business, there’s pleasure, and there’s nurturing the relationship with a spouse….or whatever. As is said “if a reason/excuse is needed then any reason/excuse will do” (unknown). When parents want time away from their children, they find a reason/excuse and a way for it to work out.
Here I am….on a business trip, meeting my responsibilities of being on this business trip. As mentioned in the Exciting News! post, my in-laws own a sewing shop and as strictly a Bernina dealer, the store offers Bernina machines which include sewing machines, embroidery machines, long arm quilting machines, and sergers. The shop also carries a large selection of choice fabric, needles, thread, and other sewing supplies. My husband and I are taking an interest in the store as his parents are closing the gap on retirement. Working alongside them, they are teaching my husband the ins and outs of the business. Anyway, the reason for the trip was to learn of new products, changes in product, and attend training on Bernina machines as Bernina does require certification of anyone who sells their brand. A bunch of technical stuff and information for store owners to increase sales. That’s the gist of it, maybe more, maybe less. We attended three days of training classes, creativity classes, informational classes to help the store grow. With that portion of the trip taking much of our time plus the exploring we did over the course of the week, we stayed pretty busy.
Oh, the excitement of the carefree life…you know, that life before children. That life between, on average, the ages of 18 to 30, give or take. Responsibilities, ehh, yeah. Jobs, car payments, insurance all the way around, the ‘adulting’ part of life. But, with no kids, still pretty much able to do as one pleases. Turns out, I never had that. I had my first kid when I was 18 so parenting came pretty early which means I bypassed the carefree lifestyle. Wouldn’t change it though. Not even a little bit. So, when my husband and I get the chance to be a little carefree….well, we take it 🙂
And there lies the problem….Oh, I enjoy every minute of that time devoted to growing, evolving our relationship, but -as has happened on each trip we’ve taken without the kids — within a day or two, that carefree life begins to not mesh with me. I start thinking about the kids, wishing the kids were with us, wondering how the kids are…..Missing the kids. They don’t become the focus of the trip because, as with this latest trip, there’s some responsibility, but I also whole-heartily believe in keeping the marital relationship strong and thriving through focused time together, devotion to one another, encouraging and maintaining the foundation on which our marriage is built while deepening our friendship, loyalty, trust, commitment, and love. As with any relationship, marriages need to be nurtured in order to grow so even though the carefree life isn’t suitable for me, I still make it a point to focus on our marriage when we are able to get time away from the kids, business trip or otherwise.
As I get older and my kids get older, all the sudden carefree doesn’t seem so important. In fact, it’s probably the least important thing to me. I enjoyed our trip, but I realized, I’d rather be a mother and with my children all the time than to live that carefree life on a daily basis. Kids grow up so fast, so many changes take place from one year to the next in who they are and who they will become. And that is what I want to be present for so carefree…uh-uh, not so much. I’m perfectly suited to being a wife and mothering the children that God so generously blessed me with.
My heart belongs to God, my husband and my kids where it shall remain.