I didn’t get any videos of Hunter as they went ahead of us at one point, then I didn’t see them again until we were finished.

It was a perfect day for the zoo. The temp was in the low 70′s with very little wind. There weren’t a lot of people there either, so no fighting to see the animals.

If you live in the Fort Worth metroplex, the zoo is a great outing. On Wednesdays they have half price tickets too. We went on a Monday though. Great day!

Wounds that are so deep, which have healed over at the surface seem to be ripped open beneath the skin. There is no bleeding that is visible, but the pain is so intense, I want to do nothing.

I’m supposed to be getting ready for church, but I feel as if life is eclipsed by the reminder of the pain. My face hurts as the tears want to force their way out of my eyes. I want to hold them back. I want to will the tears back down deep. I want to smile. I want to dance. I want to sing. I want to not feel like sludge, dirty grimy slimy sludge, that has been filthed up by the reminder of the pain of the past.

In the dream, I simply don’t know what direction to take. I want someone to tell me, not just the next step, but how to repair and fix the damage. I want my child to not hurt. I want to comfort, but don’t know how. All of my attempts fall flat and get all skewed out of proportion.

Why am I sitting here reliving a work of fiction, in which I know most of the key players and know that most works of fiction are a spark of a reality, that permeated into the core of my being? Perhaps God is at work? Perhaps there is a message of hope that He wants me to see. I always want to find the “something” that keeps me going, that keeps my mind from staying in the horrid place of dwell. Yet, I must go there to find the hope.

As I search through the dream, there are images I cannot shake. The images that caused the pain for my loved ones. How could I not have prevented it when I was right on the other side of an unlocked door? Because that was in the dream — in the dream the reality was visible to me on both sides of the door.

If I could act how I feel, I would lie beneath my covers and cry out in pain as I writhe about waiting, hoping, praying for relief. But I can not.

The pull to relive is so strong. The desire to get on with a joyous day is weak.

It was just a bad dream I keep reminding myself. I mean really —- my kids weren’t in school and Tom Hanks was never the superintendent who also didn’t know what I should do.

Ah — I hear hope rising…in the voice of one of my children – not in the nightmare but in the room beyond my door. His voice echoes through my room as he is trying to arouse his younger brother from sleep. I hear the echoes of my self as he half speaks and half sings, “Good morning Sunshine.” I’m guessing it’s a bit irritating to the twelve year old brother and he probably grunted a bit and sank beneath his covers trying to shut out the real world to stay in his dream world of sleep.

Oh the irony as I want to shut out the dream, rather nightmare, world and emerge as a butterfly finally free — into the real world.

Perhaps I was allowed this painful reminder — so I could truly see how brightly the Son shines, even on a cloudy day.

It is time to go send some praises to the One who keeps me from writhing in the pain of life and reminds me gently that I am His Sunshine. And for today – His Only Sunshine. Oh how I love how he makes me feel special with the gentle reminders that speak to me – and only to me.

The time was getting nearer for our baby to be born. I had been having contractions all day. I figured our baby would be born that night or the next day when I went to my scheduled appointment.

I crawled out of bed to go use the bathroom-again. Anyone who has ever been pregnant knows that this is a ritual done virtually every night in the latter stages of pregnancy. Go to the bathroom, go to bed, wait ten minutes, get up again to use the bathroom, and the cycle continues until you finally fall asleep.

As I sat on the toilet, I began to get excited because I thought my water had broken. But the flow didn’t stop. I called for Steve to come in and turn on the light.

My fears were confirmed. I had been filling the toilet with blood. As Steve ran to get the phone to call 911, I fell on to the floor.

I knew at that moment, I was probably going to die. I even told Steve I was going to die. I was not fearful, just matter of fact. I don’t remember thinking about our children at that point, but I did not want to leave Steve.

I wish I could say it was like the movies where the world stands stil for a moment as a man cradles his wife’s body in his arms as she whispers her final words, “I love you” to him.

But this was not anything like the movies.There were arrangements that had to be made. Steve called a sitter to come stay with the children, and then he called my sister to pray.

By now the ambulance had arrived. The paramedics gave me oxygen, put an IV in my arm, and began pumping fluids through my veins. I began to feel better, but I was still pretty sure I was not going to make it. I was not frightened. In fact, I really felt quite peaceful.

A second ambulance came. The intention was to load me up,meet another ambulance, and switch me to it; however, the third ambulance was only six miles away, so we waited for it.

The big dilemma was how to get me down the stairs. Do paramedics only deal with people on ground floors? Their biggest fear was that I was going to deliver the baby. At one point, one of the ambulance crew put the pulse monitor on my finger.

“Ow!” I groaned.

The paramedic got a little panicky and asked, “Are you having the baby?”

“No, you pinched my finger.” We all chuckled.

I was worried my children would wake up, but none of them stirred from their rooms, so I assumed all the children were asleep. Little did I know, Ashley was wide-awake in her room. She knew that was the best place for her to stay. She watched from her window as I was placed into the back of the ambulance. She even took a picture of the ambulances in the driveway. She thought it was the last time she might ever see me. After we were gone, Ashley came out of her room and prayed with the sitter.

The ambulance ride seemed really fast. If I weren’t in the back, I would have thought it quite exciting to see three ambulances whizzing past with lights and sirens. Steve rode up front and prayed even more intensely when the attendant with me in the back told the driver, “Floor it!”

I was freezing. I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering. My blood pressure was dangerously low.

Upon arriving at the hospital, I was greeted by more people than I could remember. Some guy started doing an ultrasound. They seemed unconcerned that my baby was going to die if they didn’t take it out.

But I was still peaceful. I later found out that I was in shock and taking me into the operating room at that time would have had dire consequences. After three ultrasounds, they finally prepped me for surgery.

Once in the operating room, I only remember a calmness. I felt like someone was praying for me. It was really quite a pleasant feeling. At one point I asked if anyone noticed from the ultrasound the sex of my baby.

Only the anesthesiologist responded. He kindly leaned over to me and said, “We weren’t looking.” I just wanted to know what sex my baby would be when I arrived in heaven with it.

Steve waited in the hallway while the surgery took place. As he watched through the window and could see only doctors, nurses, and a whole lot of blood, he felt an unusual peace, too. He was uncomfortable feeling so peaceful. He was sitting in a chair at the end of the hallway and would begin to think, I should be worried. Then he would start to worry. He would get up, walk to the operating room window, look in, and even with a view of lots of blood, he would again become peaceful. He could feel God’s presence with him.

The next thing I knew, several hours had passed. When I awoke, someone told me I had a boy. The doctors were worried the baby had inhaled blood into his lungs, so they were sending him to a children’s hospital an hour and a half away. A nurse wheeled the baby into my room. He had a ventilator tube in his mouth and a tube sticking out of his belly button. The doctor had sent a scope of some kind up through his umbilical cord to his heart.

As I looked at him I thought, That isn’t really my baby.

His fate was still unknown. The doctor said the baby probably had massive brain damage. The outlook for him was bleak, but I still had an incredible peace.

Over the course of the next several days, even weeks, the pieces began to fit together. I had a condition known as placenta accreta. My placenta was in full praevia position, but my placenta had grown through my uterine wall and attached to several of my organs. The doctor was unable to stop the bleeding. He had to perform a hysterectomy.

At one point during the surgery, my blood pressure bottomed out and my oxygen levels dropped below 50 percent. After they pumped twelve units of “new” blood into me, my condition began to improve. When I finally came out of the anesthesia, my chances had gone from slim to much improved.

Our son also improved gradually. While he rode in the ambulance to the other hospital, they told us his breathing improved; and he even opened his eyes for the first time. They were able to reduce the ventilator to 60 percent. Every report from then on was positive as God multiplied His blessings to us.

After five days I was able to go home, but home is not where I went. I went to the bedside of my son, Bryan. I had to wait an hour and a half before I could hold him. He nursed right away, and we were able to take him home the next day. It didn’t appear that he had any brain damage.

I believe that the Lord had been preparing me for this almost my entire pregnancy. It was a miserable pregnancy. It was the first time I was questioning if I really wanted to go through having another baby. But in my heart, I knew I could not do anything to prevent a pregnancy. Steve and I felt convicted that we should let God be in control of our family size. We knew God was the Creator of life. Children were blessings to be desired.

At one point during my pregnancy, I told the Lord in prayer that if I were not to have anymore children it would have to be by His hand, not by ours. I did not know when I went to bed on Feb 11, 1998 as I lovingly touched my round belly that that would be the last time I would ever feel a baby kick within my body. I was thirty-three when Bryan, my eighth child, was born. I figured I could possibly have another eight before I was through. It is so easy to take fertility for granted.

Since that night, my life has changed dramatically. The little things don’t seem to matter anymore. My children could have been without a mommy. My husband could have been without a wife. I would have been in heaven, so I probably wouldn’t have cared too much.

The Lord has given me a new life. I really thought when I came home from the hospital that I would be perfect. For some reason I felt that I had almost touched the hand of God, so somehow that would make me a perfect mommy. Right away, I blew it. So, I’m not going to get to be perfect-yet! But I won’t stop trying!

I’m enjoying my life more, enjoying my children more, and enjoying my husband more. So many things seem to get in the way of what is really important. I hope that I never get to a point again when I cannot marvel at God for saving the life of my son and myself. I hope that I will not forget to marvel at the blue sky, the snow-covered grass,the intoxicating smell of a newborn baby, a two-year-old singing “Jesus Wuvs Me,” and the sparkle in the eyes of a child when you throw all abandon to the wind and say, “Let’s have soda-pop for lunch!”

When God saved my life, He put a new beat in my heart, more spring in my step, joy in my soul, and a miracle in my arms.

In the mundane, there is life!

©2001-present Terri Camp “I’m Going to be the Greatest Mom Ever….Even if it Kills Me”

These are my reflections on “The Gift of Age.”
When I look in a mirror and see the gray hairs that have become unpluckable, sometimes I choose to be sad over lost youth, but more often than not, I make a conscious decision to be content – no, not content, joyful, with where I am. When I look at a face that has aged, wrinkles, sagging jowls (oh that’s just gross), and skin that seems to succumb to gravity on a daily basis, I choose to see the life that has lived beyond the aged face and the gray hair. I’m not even going to mention the other things that sag and plump.
The things I’ve learned most recently:

To be bitter leaves a yucky taste in the lives of people you meet. I choose to be sweet. (Even though there are times I want to kick some serious booty)

The only way to love is unconditionally. If I place conditions on the love I give to others, then I will focus on the conditions, and not on the love. I choose unconditional!

To receive can sometimes be better than to give. I don’t turn away blessings. If someone wants to bless me – I choose to receive. This was a hard lesson for me to learn.

There are no idle words. Even the most innocent of comments can ruminate in someone’s mind. Words have tremendous power. I choose that my words will bless those who read or hear them.

Speaking of words. The most important words I speak are the ones I speak to and about myself. My own words have the power to build up or tear down – me. I’ve stopped being my own worst critic and became my personal cheerleader. If I make a mistake, my words remind me that I’m human and now better. No more beating myself up with my words. I choose to speak life giving words to myself.

Humility is not the opposite of confident. I can be confident and humble at the same time. This was revolutionary thinking for me. I choose to force a spirit of confidence – even when I don’t feel confident.

I think – therefore I am. That’s one of those great philosophical statements. It’s one that I have taken further though. My thought life is what separates me from every other person on the planet. No one thinks like me. Wow! I’m unique. And the really cool thing about the thought life is that I can create who I am with my thoughts. With my thoughts I can choose the paths I walk. I choose to walk on the path of success in all areas of my life. If my thoughts don’t line up with that, then the body in which I live, will eventually follow the path I think.

The enemy has come to steal, kill, and destroy, but Jesus has come to give life, and life abundantly. I could focus on what I have lost, what satan has destroyed, but then, he would have won. That simply doesn’t work for me. I choose to focus on the one who gives life.

So, with the gray hair and wrinkles that have come with age, the true gift is that I am truly living. What a gift!

For Briana’s 15th birthday this is what I did — She likes to watch the game show, Deal or No Deal, so I decided to recreate the game to give her money for her birthday.

I bought a set of 16 small gift bags in a variety of colors at Target. They cost $2.99. I also bought some colored index cards for $1.25. I later bought some of those small packages of candy bars for 1.00 each at Wal Mart. I bought about 8 packages.

With a marker I numbered the bags from 1 – 16. Next I took 16 index cards and randomly put monetary denominations on them. I had gone to the bank and gotten enough money to cover any denomination she won (all tens) with the intention of giving her the full amount I had planned even if she ended up with a smaller amount. I randomly placed one index card inside each bag. I then filled 8 bags with enough candy to share with the other kids. I had also purchased the electronic game, Deal or No Deal as a tangible gift for her. One of the index cards said, “Deal or No Deal – Special Gift – Here’s a hint” Inside that bag were AA batteries. I then hid that present behind the couch.

I arranged the 16 bags on the fireplace mantel then called all the kids to the living room for the birthday eve celebration. (I let my kids stay up late and open their presents the night before their birthday so they can enjoy their presents the day of their birthday and they can sleep in late if they want)

The game begins with Briana choosing one bag. She chose #15 (her new age). I told her I knew she would pick that one. Of course that only adds to her question of if I also knew what I put in #15. As she would choose a bag I would reveal the contents. “Twix bars and $30.00 dollars. Deal…or no deal?” She doesn’t take the deal. I toss the candy out to the siblings and she gets one too. ‘

To add a bit to the suspense I did not tell her how much money she could “win” for her birthday. She did not know what the top price would be. When she picked #11 and it was the surprise gift with batteries she decided to take the deal, thinking I had bought her an IPod Touch (yea right!). I guess when you’re 15 anything is possible. I retrieved the electronic Deal or No Deal game. She enjoyed it and acted appreciative. We then took a vote and decided that she could also get a money prize. The game continued. At one point she decided to take a dollar amount which ended up being the top amount. But when I gave her the money, I pulled it out of a pouch that contained more money. Therefore she thought perhaps there was more to be had. It came down to her bag #15 and the money in her hand. She chose to take the unknown money in the bag. Ohhh..poor Briana….it was less than half the amount she already had. Again the siblings voted and decided she should be able to have the money she traded. One of them said, “I voted yes because I know she always shares and she’ll probably buy me something.”

We really had a great time playing this game for money. At one point she said to her siblings, “Hey, you guys are supposed to be helping me decide.” That’s when it really got fun as they would add their comments about what they would do, and what she should do. Bryan even looked around the living room and decided to use the Game Cube console as her “deal or no deal button.” He showed her how to work it to be a deal or a no deal.

As we were all sitting in the living room Briana said, “Most people just get an envelope with money. I’m glad you made it so much fun.” — tears, tears…Don’t you love when your kids appreciate you?

People are often asking me what a typical day in the life of the Camp family is like. My response is always the same…define typical. They then produce some definition like…Okay if everything were running smoothly what would your day look like.

It then dawns on me that they want the fairy tale version. Therefore I will proceed to give you the fairy tale version of life at the Camp house. Never fear though, I will follow it with a brief (perhaps not), humorous (now, not necessarily then), and accurate (as well as this old queen can remember) day I experienced today.

The fairy tale version:
This is how my schedule reads. Get up at 8:00. I would write “or thereabouts” on the schedule, but there isn’t room. So I set my alarm for 8:00 almost every day. It goes off several times. Then I finally lie in my bed listening to hear what is going on downstairs. If I don’t hear anything, I lie in bed and think about my schedule for the day. If I hear lots of fighting, I go into the bathroom and lock the door.

By 9:00 it’s time to start the JOYS (Joyful Obedient Youthful Service). Of course if I didn’t get up until 9:00 it’s difficult to begin the JOYS at 9:00. But hey…this is the fairy tale version.

At 9:30 we begin our educational endeavors. This is where the schedule gets tricky because I’m working with little ones on their reading, while the older ones work on their math and writing assignments, then I work with the older ones checking their assignments.

At 11:00 I begin read aloud time. We read for an hour and a half while all the children do NOT sit quietly. Even in a fairy tale you have to be honest. Bryan is allowed to play with his train set or his “math” game. He may also color, which is what he does most of the time in his notebook. All the other kids work on their notebooks.

We then have lunch. Then I send all the kids outside to play or work with the horses. When they return we work on the afternoon projects that have come from our reading book or the unit we’re working on, which is usually the same thing, but not always.

At 4:00 we begin another half-hour of JOYS before Steve gets home. The rest of the evening is filled with dinner, playing with Daddy, computer time, perhaps a movie or a game together.

Not So Fairy Tale Version
My day begins at 12:30 am. I hear a cry, “Moooommmm!” I ignore it. After all, the queen has just fallen asleep. Then I hear the squeak of a door and the patter of footsteps. I’m hoping they aren’t going to knock on my door. But alas, they do. John is announcing the cries of Bryan. I decide that perhaps I should check out why he is crying. Upon investigation I find him lying on his bed crying inconsolably. I ask him why he is crying and he says, “arhgilsh shiflkhg.” HUH?

Finally he stops crying enough to tell me that he has wet his bed and he is freezing cold.

The temptation to toss him a dry blanket flashes into my brain. But instead I strip his bed, remove his clothing, clean up the puddle on the floor, put a towel on his bed, and give him some clean blankets, which he decides he doesn’t want. He wants “HIS” blanket. I try to reason with the three-year old that HIS blanket is all wet! He decides that he will be satisfied with his brother John’s favorite blanket instead. I then kiss him and tell him to go to sleep because Mommy is going to be making doughnuts for breakfast.
I had previously set my alarm for 7:15 because Steve got wind that I was making doughnuts for breakfast and wanted me to make them for him too.

I slept blissfully for several hours. My alarm went off promptly at 7:15. I promptly turned it off and turned over.

I was then awakened by a loud knock. “Who is it?” I say.

“It’s me, Bryan!” Comes the joyful voice.

I had removed one contact from my eye the previous night so I had to squint to see the numbers on the clock. I have three clocks in my room. One of them is an hour and twenty-two minutes slow. I didn’t look at that one though. I looked at the one that glared 9:33.

“Oh my!” I thought to myself as I told Bryan he could enter my room.

“I hungy. Go make doughnuts?” He said in a way too perky voice.

I quickly awoke and went down and made the promised doughnuts. Around 11:00 the kids were all full of doughnuts.

I began to check some of the kids’ math that they had done while I was away. As I checked one of my children’s math books, she began to cry. She missed every problem. I realized that she was progressing without knowing how to do the problems. She was just guessing. After drying her tears and spending about an hour just with her, I decided to stop with her for the day and moved on to someone else.

Suddenly everyone wanted my attention. In exasperation Christi screamed, “Can’t you all go some place besides where Mom is?”

Then someone had the audacity to ask, “What’s for lunch, Mom?”

I replied, “fruit.” I’m not making lunch. I just finished making breakfast.

It was raining so no one could go outside.

I sat down to work on this column about five times, but was always swarmed by children wanting me for something.

When Steve walked into the house, I had just started to rally the troops to do their jobs. He got to walk into “drill sergeant Mom” barking orders at everyone and being just a wee bit irritated by the state of the rooms that I had cleaned the previous day.

I had planned a terrific dinner, turkey roll, buttered noodles, and a vegetable. When the water had boiled for the noodles I poured the noodles into the water. When I began to stir the noodles I discovered some larvae type things floating at the top of the water. I dumped the noodles outside for the dogs. And added “throw out everything” that is in the pantry, on my schedule for the next day.

Unfortunately that left me without a good starchy thing. Oh well. I had hamburger buns. We had hamburger buns instead of buttered noodles, not exactly the banquet of a queen.

After dinner I took a hot bath. Then I read to the kids. They went to bed. And we lived happily ever after.

The irony was incredible to me. I never worried about “this” for her life. She was the one in our house who was the strongest proponent of purity. She was the one who confidently let me know that there was NO WAY she would ever sleep with a boy unless she was married. She was the one who put her life on hold to help me when I needed her. She was strong! Resolute! Morally Upright. And now … pregnant.
The first words out of my mouth were, “In our house, children are a blessing, no matter what the circumstances are.” Within seconds I knew that the best direction would be for me to support her 100 percent. She began telling me the plans she was making. I also wanted her to know that this was not the time to make the decisions. I felt strongly that she needed to know that everything would work out just fine, and that I would be there, by her side through the whole thing.

There are so many “life happenings” that we are unprepared to handle. I remember once telling someone, “Oh, I could never go through THAT!” I’m not sure what the THAT was, but I knew at the time I wouldn’t be able to go through it. It was around the time I found out about my oldest being molested that I realized, I didn’t need to know that I could go through it, until it was time. I needed my strength through the battle, not worrying about what might come in my future.

I’m so thankful that we don’t have to think about what may come in order for us to be able to handle it with grace and courage. You know…life is tough sometimes. For some reason, I thought it would get easier. On one hand it sort of has, because I’m stronger now. I remember once looking up to heaven telling God, “By the way God, I’m a wimp! Just thought I’d let you know. All this stuff getting thrown at me, I can’t handle it.” I’m pretty sure He’s standing there taking the brunt of most of my “stuff” only letting a few things pass through that He knows I can handle. So, when I’ve feeling overwhelmed, I just have to remember that this stuff has gone through God already, and HE thinks I can take it. And if HE thinks I can handle it – then by golly – I can handle it…even if I am a wimp.

For Tina, about a month away from giving birth now, it can sometimes seem overwhelming. However, she has a great support team. She’ll be able to live here with us while she continues taking college courses and working. They even told her she could bring the baby to work. One of her concerns was how she was going to be able to afford all the stuff that goes along with having a baby. (I certainly am not able to help right now) Her workplace had a surprise baby shower for her (Ask me about the games!!! I got to plan them!). After the shower, Tina was sitting on her bed, looking like a huge load had been released from her. She said to me, “I got everything I need! That was the biggest stress for me, and God took care of it.” One loan tear droped out of her eye.

Even though we hate watching our kids struggle with the choices they make, it’s totally awesome when we get to see them realize that God is taking care of them in the midst of those choices.

I’m sure some of you parents can’t even believe I’m saying this. Aren’t we put on this earth to guide our children? To help them make wise choices? I say, yes to those, but I also believe that the way we make wise choices is by learning from the ones that weren’t so wise. Oh goodness, I still make choices that aren’t wise. And there are times I wish I could just look at someone and ask them to make some of those difficult decisions for me. But I can’t. And I have to live with the consequences of my decisions.

I thought my parents had a pretty good take on offering advice. With the exception of when I was a young teen and had gotten myself into a huge life transforming mess, they rarely spoke up with advice, unless I asked them for it. I am quite certain my parents believed in me. They believed in my ability to make rational decisions, and to be willing to accept the consequences of my behavior.

Some people may consider this to be more of a “hands off” parenting approach. On the contrary I think it’s more an “into the depths of their being” approach. When a parent is quick to advise a teen, it makes that teen feel like the parent doesn’t trust them. Hey, we may not! We may not have the proof that the teen can make right decisions. (Disclaimer – I’m not talking about teens who are addicted to drugs or other dangerous behavior) But our teen needs to know that we believe in them. We believe they will make the best choices for their lives. That means we can’t jump into their lives with “our” solution. They must wrestle within themselves to come up with the right thing to do. Oftentimes that means we have to sit by and watch our child fail at something.

I’ve never had one of my teens say, “Why didn’t you rescue me from that mistake?” When they realize they have made mistakes, my role as their parent is to love them through the mistake and encourage them in such a way that they know I believe in them and in their strength to persevere in spite of perhaps a lapse of judgement.

I’ve failed many times! I’ve made monumental mistakes! I’m even pretty sure I’ve made some major parenting mistakes. We all do!

When my oldest son turned 17 I told him that he had one more year of practice before becoming an official adult. I told him that he is transitioning into adulthood. From that moment forward, his decisions were his to make, with the consequences, being his to bear. But, that his last year was a practice for adulthood year. It would be a year kind of like a circus performer who learns to walk on a tightrope by walking close to the ground, then having a net to catch him if he falls. As I watched him make decisions with consequences that he wouldn’t like, I kept reminding him that I believed in him. I often reminded him of the scripture in Jer that talks about having a future and a hope. I told him that even those words were not written directly to him, that I believed them for his life. Mistake after mistake I saw him make. It was difficult to standby and watch as he made poor choices for his life. But I believed! Again these aren’t choices like drinking or drugs, they are more the day to day choices of how to spend his time, how to care for himself, etc. I resisted the urge on many occasions to preach to him. His responses were going to have to come from his heart. Sure, I could have enacted family legislation to create behavior modification, but how could that help him in the future when there wasn’t anyone there legislating him? I would rather see my child make those mistakes while still at home with the safety net beneath him. In just over a month from now, he will turn 18. I’m not going to send him out into the world at 18 simply because it’s some magic number. But I will expect adult behavior – and I believe that is what he will exhibit.

Do you have high expectations for your children? Or do you have high demands? You know, there is a difference. I expect that my children will make the right choices for their lives. Afterall it is their lives that depend on it!

One of my adult children is living at home with me. Recently she found herself faced with some difficult consequences resulting from her own behavior. I wanted to jump in with all the advice I could muster. I wanted to take “my little girl” and tell her how to make it all okay again. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t my place. Instead, I told her, “I believe in you. I believe you will make the best decision. You do not have to decide anything today. I’m here for you.” Then I stepped back and watched the miracle of a child – choosing the path for her adult life.

Sometimes the parenting our teens really need is a parent who says, “I believe in you!” – then we step back and watch as the child learns to fly.

On Saturday, @todaysmoms had a Mom tips fest. They requested Moms submit their tips with a hashtag #todaysmom. (If you don’t know about twitter or hashtags, you simply must join!) At first I resisted posting any tips. My reason for resisting was my ego. Yes, I have one – and it swells at times. Especially when I’m feeling all smart, which sometimes happens when I’m talking about being a mom and some of the tips I’ve learned over the years. After reading several of the tips, I could no longer resist typing in my own tip.

I hit enter. Then someone retweeted it. Oh no! The ego began inflating. My fingers began typing more rapidly, tip after glorious tip! I felt the energy within me get stronger (I had been feeling under the weather). I felt myself holding my breath as I would think of another tip that I absolutely must share, in 140 characters or less. Actually, if I wanted it retweeted, I had to leave room for the RT: @tadahmom . As I saw more RT: my blood pressure began to rise. Then, the tip fest ended. I don’t want it to end!

Each day I try to post a Ta-dah Tidbit for Today: on Twitter. Apparently this one little tip per day is not enough to keep my ego inflated. I wanted more! More opportunities to post tips. It really is all about my ego.

Some of the tips I shared were:

When the children are getting louder – start whispering to them.

My 16 yo son’s parenting tip: Don’t be over controlling – we need to make our own mistakes.

It’s okay be selfish. You don’t have to share everything – keep that little chocolate to yourself.

Don’t make eating an “issue.” Kids will eat when hungry, and they will get tired of that one requested item eventually.

Teach your kids early, go to the linoleum (or ceramic tile) to throw up. Much easier than running to the bathroom

Want bright kids? Don’t fill their lives with too much to do. Let them explore and learn on their own.

I may have a strong desire to be some kind of Mommy Guru, but the true desire comes from wanting to be able to reach out and help other moms. Thank you for allowing me to share some of my tips with you via Twitter and this website.

What are some of your favorite Mommy Tips?

Initially we had planned on a wedding in the park. The weather was supposed to be perfect in Texas – mid 70′s. Then the forecast was for windy conditions with a 40% chance of rain. A last minute scramble found us reserving The Corner Wedding Chapel It was beautifully decorated. The ceremony took place outside beneath and arbor and in front of a waterfall. Very cool. Now if we could have just notified the guy using his weed eater to not eat his weeds during the ceremony, it would have been perfect!

The pastor was not our pastor. He was found through a Starbucks Drive-thru. I was at the drive-thru window when the Barista, who I knew, asked how the wedding plans were coming along. I casually mentioned that our pastor was already booked and could not perform the ceremony, so we were going to skip a ceremony. (They were married by a Justice of the Peace on Feb 21, 2009) However, we really did want a ceremony to make it seem more official to the out of town guests. Well….it just so happened another Barista was listening to the conversation and jumped in with our solution. “My dad is a pastor!” She said. “He performed my ceremony. He loves doing weddings!” She gave me his phone number, and the Starbucks Pastor performed the ceremony.

I don’t think we could have asked for a more perfect pastor for them. He was humorous and very real!
He gave a charge to the groom to take the bride shopping – and dropping her off at the mall didn’t count! We all laughed more than once. Their vows were incredible too!

It was a small reception with mostly family and just a handful of friends present. Family came from California, Iowa, and Minneapolis. One of the neat things we did was that we put a disposable camera at each table with a Camera Scavenger Hunt. This included 44 items to take a picture of. Everyone seemed to enjoy taking pictures of various things.

The newlyweds are now off to their new lives at Keesler AFB near Biloxi, MS.

Enjoy the photos!