At the age of four, Bryan loved to play animal and dinosaur.  He would often come find me wherever I was. Even if I would be taking a nap, he will come over to me and “ROAR” as loud as he could.  Sometimes I wondered if he was trying to show me his strength.  Other times I think he prefered to be around me and wanted to find me wherever I may roam.  Perhaps there is also the possibility that he thought I might one day forget him in the crowd so he needs to make his presence known to me in such a dramatic way.

Often when I was working, Bryan will venture into my office and begin talking.  If I was in the middle of something, I might continue typing with my hands, while listening to him with my ears.  It was at those moments that Bryan will climb up into my lap.  He wanted me to be sure to focus on him.

If I was in the middle of typing a thought or an e-mail though, I would sometimes give him a quick squeeze, then continue typing.  This would often suffice for him.  But more often than not, it was not the response that he wanted.

That was when he would look at me with those big green eyes and “ROAR” in his loudest voice.  Of course this gets my attention.  I would look at him and say, “What do you want dear Bryan?”

He often responded with, “I want you to play dinosaur with me.”  I must admit there were many times I would rather continue what I was doing than stop to take the time to play dinosaur with him.  Dinosaur was probably my least favorite game.  Bryan always wanted to be the strong “sharp tooth” as he calls it.  I always got to be the “long neck.”  That meant I was the one who was always  killed.

One time I thought I would trick him.  I told him that I was going to be the “sharp tooth” this time.  And he was going to be the “long neck.”  He reluctantly agreed.  Let the games begin!

I began growling and walking the way he had instructed me to do.  Just when I was ready to bite off his head he said to me, “I’ve changed into a fire breathing dragon, and now I’m going to breathe on you!”  He then opened his mouth wide and breathed on me.  “There!  You’re dead!” He reminded me.

I was secretly glad I ended in a quick death.  There were so many things I had to do that day.  I thanked him for killing me and began to walk away.  After following me into the office, he once again climbed up on my lap.

Even though I’m not a genius, I figured out fairly quickly that my little boy simply wanted some “Mommy time.”

I had decided to devote a few more minutes to him when Ashley walked in and began to talk about something related to horses.  I can’t remember the exact conversation, but I’m sure that’s what she was talking about.

I turned to face her and began listening.  Bryan took my face in his little hands and turned me to stare right at him.  I told him I would talk to him in a few minutes, and turned once again to talk with Ashley.  Again he took my face in his hands and turned me to focus on him.

Naturally I had to discipline him for interrupting when I was talking, but I felt a tinge of remorse that he had a need in his life that seemed to be unmet by me.

Often as I study the lives of my children I will notice something that is out of whack with them.  When I delve further into the possible cause, I often am forced to look at myself as the reason they are acting a certain way.

It’s painful to look at a child who has been yelling a lot and see that perhaps the behavior she is seeing modeled by, yours truly, is not one of sweet disposition, but one of a raised voice.

I know I cannot live an exemplary life.  I will fail them and I often do, but what frightens me the most is that one day I will mess up so much, there will be no redemption in their eyes.  I fear that the children will walk away from the faith I so desperately want them to walk in, not away from, because of some mistake I may have made.

Over the course of the next several weeks, I will be posting one chapter each day from the book. You’ll want to subscribe to the RSS feed or the Networked Blogs so that you don’t miss a single chapter. I will also be making a text only .pdf of the book available for purchase for $7.00. See the sidebar for additional details of this.

At the time of the writing of the book, I was married, so there will be references to “my husband.” I’ve decided to leave those references for now. Full disclosure – throughout the pages, you will find links to affiliate products.  And now – for the introduction to

Gone With the Mind

Introduction

Scientifically there is not any concrete evidence to suggest that pregnant women lose brain cells or that their brains actually shrink during pregnancy.  I don’t really care what science says or doesn’t say about this topic.  I know that something peculiar happened to my brain when I first became pregnant.

I was about two months pregnant when I decided I needed a new puppy.  Some of you may already be shaking your head at the thought of being newly pregnant and getting a new puppy.  Of course I didn’t think, because I was already embarking on the journey of the lost mind.

Not only did I mistakenly get a puppy; I got a puppy that was going to one-day turn into a dog, a big dog.  Another thing I failed to take into account when I chose my puppy was that I lived in a one-bedroom apartment, and I worked during the day.  What was I going to do while I was away?  I was going to put the puppy out on the deck of course.

This worked quite well until the downstairs neighbors decided they didn’t like their patio furniture getting “rained” on during the day.  After they complained I locked my new puppy into my bedroom.

Each night I would go through the same ritual.  I would walk around the room finding all the “spots” where the puppy missed the paper, and flush them down the toilet.  One night the toilet clogged.

I quickly yelled out for Steve to come help, but he was out of town for a few months so he didn’t come to my rescue.  “Perhaps rather than fixing the problem, I could use the bathroom in the laundry room down the block,” I pondered in my distress.   This is when the brain cell blockage passed momentarily and I realized that wasn’t an option.

I was quite a sight plunging the toilet, while simultaneously leaning over the bathroom sink.  Remember that I told you I was just a couple of months pregnant. 

Morning Sickness Help

I did get the clog out, but didn’t realize that it was from all the “spots” that I flushed down along with the paper towels I used to pick them up.  I’m not sure if it took more than a week of this to finally figure out that perhaps I should just take a bag out to the dumpster.

In the meantime my lovely puppy managed to dig a hole under the door of my bedroom, eat Steve’s prized squirrel skin, my bed, and the linoleum in the adjoining bathroom.

Each day I would come home to find another part of my apartment or belongings eaten.  One day I found the puppy had taken the toilet paper and strewn it all over the room.

People would often shake their heads at me when I would tell them of the exploits of the puppy.  The secretary where I worked seriously wondered about my mental health when she asked why I named a female puppy Blake.  I told her that I didn’t know the puppy was a girl.  She asked why I didn’t look to see.  I simply blushed at the thought.

I thought the lack of brain function would get better with each succeeding child, but it didn’t.  In fact, I’m afraid it got worse.

A month before Ashley was born; I resigned from the Air Force to become a permanent stay at home mom.  I loved being home with my baby and was pretty sure that one day I would once again have all my faculties in use.

I had heard it could take up to six months after being pregnant for the brain to once again function at full capacity.  I was looking forward to that time.

Five months after Ashley was born, I became pregnant with Christi.  While pregnant with her I wondered if I was going to be allowed to catch up on the brain cells or if I had already caused irreparable damage.

I can’t remember all the times I had forgotten to take a diaper bag.

After Christi came along things got even worse for me.  Now I had another name that I was supposed to remember and recall at any given moment.

I think George Foreman had a good idea when he named all his sons the same thing.  His wife never had to look at someone and not know his name.

I believe I was pregnant with David when I happened upon 2 Timothy 1:7  “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”

I took great comfort in this verse for I was certain that moms were not excluded from this blessing.  I was positive that one day the Lord would see fit to take away my fear and replace it with power, and love, and the thing I often needed most, a sound mind.

Create your free online surveys with SurveyMonkey, the world’s leading questionnaire tool. ]]> http://terricamp.com/workshop-survey/feed/ 2 http://terricamp.com/a-stuffed-christmas/ http://terricamp.com/a-stuffed-christmas/#comments Sun, 28 Nov 2010 06:42:43 +0000 Admin http://terricamp.com/?p=434 We’ve all heard the words that it doesn’t take money to have Christmas. And that is completely true. There is only one ingredient required and that is “Love.” However, there is so much stress wrapped up (pun intended) in presents, decorations, gifts for others, etc.

The first year as a single mom was particularly rough for me. The kids seemed to handle it all in stride, but I found myself desperately wanting to give them more than I had. All eight of us lived in a little three bedroom apartment. The living room couch, which had been given to us, doubled as my bed. There wasn’t a lot of room, there wasn’t a lot of money, but there was a whole lot of ingenuity.

More than anything I wanted a tree for the kids. One day while shopping at Wal Mart I found a small lighted tree for only fifteen dollars. Fifteen dollars was actually a lot of money that year, but I “needed” that tree. The excitement of putting up the Christmas tree in our little apartment was amazing. I figured we would just leave it bare – at least it had lights.

Just Add Love

As we danced around the living room to Christmas music on the radio, pretty soon one of the kids had gone into her room and got a small stuffed animal to decorate the tree. I had some red ribbon so we made a loop around the neck of the small animal and looped it around one of the branches. We all marveled at how cute the little animal was hanging on the tree. In a flash all of the tiny stuffed animals that the kids owned were out on the living room floor awaiting their turn with a ribbon around their necks.

One by one we hung the little animals on the tree. I wish I had a picture of that little tree, but I don’t. The only picture I have of it is in my mind. A little polar bear took top position as the “star of the tree.” There was so much joy and love passing around the living room that day. I can almost feel it again as I remember with tears trailing down my cheeks.

Because I wasn’t going to get to be with the kids on Christmas, we pretended on Thanksgiving that it was Christmas. We went all out keeping some of our favorite traditions, like having funnel cakes on Christmas morning. A friend had given me money to buy gifts for the kids. Stockings were always a favorite, so that year, they each had a stocking filled with their favorite treats.

Some of the old traditions had to be removed. We no longer had the creche that we would lovingly put on the table. The decorations and ornaments were no longer in our posession. The beautiful stockings were replaced with stockings from the dollar store. But we began new traditions. In some ways that first holiday as a single mom was the mark of a fresh beginning. Even though things weren’t the same and there was a lot of pain. The joy that arose from that pain gave us all a renewed sense of peace. It’s pretty common to say, “Peace on Earth” during the Christmas season, but that year, Jesus did a very real work in my heart when He revealed to me that the peace I needed came only from Him.

That quiet Christmas morning, I sat staring at the stuffed animal tree pondering the strangeness of life. Tears fell freely, as there were no children around from whom I had to hide the pain.  As God wrapped his arms around me I knew – there was peace in my life that day.

Whenever I feel slightly overwhelmed, I find myself again reflecting on the little stuffed animal tree and how ordinary posessions, became extraordinary decorations.

The Laundry Room: As a Realtor® I get to see a lot of laundry rooms. Unfortunately most of them are afterthoughts added on to the back of the house. I certainly don’t understand this at all considering that the average family (not my family) does at least 4 loads a week. Shouldn’t that give it more credence than being relegated to the walk way between the garage and the house? And why are they often tucked as far away from the bedrooms as possible? I know in the midwest, many laundry facilities ended up in the basement. I remember when I was little my grandma had a wringer machine in the basement. Oh my! We sure have it easy now with our computerized talking machines. (I don’t have one – but I’ve seen them)

I’ve had laundry rooms every where from the basement, garage, garage pass thru, large mud room, to a room off the kitchen. I’ve never had one like I really wanted which would have been upstairs in a room large enough for dressers and hanging bars. If I could design my own house, I would have had two laundry rooms, one for the boys and one for the girls. They would have had all their dressers and hanging places in that room. Basically they would have been all purpose laundry and dressing rooms. Ahhh  one can dream. So, we make do.

You can all hate me now, but my kids do all their own laundry now. That’s what you have to look forward to when you train them how to do it when they are younger. Even toddlers can fold washclothes. Encourage them to help. When my kids were younger they had one laundry basket in their rooms. When the basket got full (or on a certain day if I was in the season of organized) they would take it to the laundry room and sort it into the bins. I had four LARGE rubber maid type bins – with lids removed. They learned to sort as soon as they could walk. Whites, Darks, Mediums, and towels/sheets. One child was the designated laundry person. I had a laminated sheet of how to wash what kind of clothes. This hung on the wall beside the washer. Each bin was coded so the kids could easily see what went into that bin. The designated laundry person would do two loads every single day. If the bin was full, that was two loads. The child would wash, dry and fold the clothes. Each child would then be responsible for putting away their own clothes after each load. This worked very well for years. The kids would rotate and everyone learned how to do laundry. It was never “done” but it was always being done.

Now that all the children can do laundry, they have cloth laundry bags in their rooms.

These stand up but are made of cloth. They have handles and collapse when not needed (like that would ever happen). Each room does their own laundry. For the most part we don’t have fights for the washer. Saturday night is often the busy night for the washer. David likes to put his clothes in at 3:00 in the morning though. Since the washer is directly beneath my room, that’s a bit obnoxious to hear when I’m trying to go to sleep. One child is still assigned to laundry, but they mostly do towels and keep the laundry room clean. It’s a pretty easy job now. It usually follows having been on kitchen duty.

I have a Neptune front loader that I got when Bryan was born. I wouldn’t say I’m 100% satisfied with it, but it works perfectly well. There have been a few times it’s needed repairs, but they weren’t horribly expensive. My dryer is just a high capacity dryer from Sears. They don’t match. And I don’t really care. I’m kind of brand loyal when it comes to laundry. I love Tide and have used it for years. I try other cheaper products, but – well, I just like Tide. I don’t use a fabric softener, but I do use Bounce sheets for some of the clothes.

To make laundry not all-consuming

• Have your kids do most of it
• Do a little every day – marathon laundry days are no fun
• Put it away! – As soon as it’s folded – take the final step and put it away. (I know what to do – I don’t always do what I know what to do) Funny how this step trips up most people. We end up with piles on the couch, on our beds, on the kitchen table, or on the floor. Then we just work around the piles. It really only takes a few minutes more to put it all away. – I say this, and right now (I could show you a picture) I have three laundry baskets with clothes in them in my bedroom. I look at it all the time and think, I should put those away. And they still sit. In my defense – my closet rod broke. (that’s all I’m going to say) I’m pretty sure, I’ll get those clothes put away as soon as I post this. There’s nothing like guilting yourself into action by typing up a post on how to get something done.

I would love to hear what you do for laundry and what kind of a laundry room you have.

Update: I found this great post on building your own laundry storage solution. Definitely check it out! http://ana-white.com/2010/11/laundry-basket-dresser.html

For the eleven months that I experienced knowing my mom was going to die, I envisioned what it would be like for me to go on without my mom. I envisioned a woman who cried at the appointed times, Laughed when a memory would pop into my head, and would grieve for a few days curled up in my bed, not wanting anyone near as she held me close (without being there).

But that’s not the way it is. As much as I want this grief to fit into my plan and work the way I expected. It’s not. I practiced my response to the question, “How are you doing?” – “Better than I expected.” I would say – with complete belief in those words. I didn’t go to bed for days. I enjoyed her memorial service. I even wanted to speak and share about her life. Not very many tears that day – better than I expected. The first couple of weeks back home seemed “normal.” Better than I expected.

Then one day, I was just walking through the kitchen and the pain of loss nearly floored me. Where did that come from? I wanted to go to bed and let her hold me. But she was dead. And there would be no more holding. I try to “conjure” her up and talk with her. But she’s gone. I hear her voice soothing me, telling me everything with be all right. But it’s not all right anymore. Sobs come too easily. I remind myself, “I’m better than expected.” Then I scream inside, “You are not!” If I had any excess money I would run away for a weekend.

I pour myself into project after project. Life – take my full attention! I don’t like grieving. I hate going to bed at night and suddenly feel the need to purge all the sadness from my body. My pillow gets wet each night from the tears I can’t fight. Many nights I fall asleep holding on to myself tightly. I wake up sore – and puffy eyed.

I scold myself. It’s not like I lost a spouse or a child! It was my mom. My body heaves with pain. I never understood how people used the death of a loved one as a life marker. But now I do. I find myself wanting to say to people, it’s been x amount of time since my mom died. They don’t care. I didn’t really care that much when people would say that to me. I didn’t understand.

I’m trying to “get it.” What happens when someone we love dies? What happens to us? I’m beginning to think they take a part of us with them. I feel this amazing pain – like something is “missing.” Like, a part of me has gone. It’s too bad it’s not the icky parts of me. But I’m afraid it’s the best part of me that has gone.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t walk around sobbing and crying all the time. But…there is this heaviness on me. I feel weak because I don’t feel like I can hold up under the pressure of the heaviness. I sigh. I don’t ask God why. I get it. And I know all the right answers. I envision her playing in heaven. I see the incredible lightness of her being now. But knowing the answers isn’t enough. I didn’t expect that. I thought I could just see her in all the glory of Heaven – and be all good with it. But I’m not all good with it. She was my best friend. She needed me.

It’s been x number of days since Mom died. It’s been 5 weeks. I expected the grief to be nearly gone – but instead it’s hit me hard. Maybe it’s all the stuff I’ve been going through – all coming to one place at one time. Fighting is too hard now. Maybe, this is the place I needed to get to? Maybe I needed to stop being strong. Maybe, just maybe … it’s a time to mourn.

Click on the above link to see our schedule. This schedule was created a few years ago and was used successfully then. Life has changed a bit since that time, but thought this one would be the most valuable to those who follow this blog.

My birthday is tomorrow today and I will beam forty-six years old. As one of my facebook friends said, it’s my “OWN Personal New Year MMX (2010 like the Romans did).” And she is absolutely correct. It’s a take charge feeling. I feel in part that staying with my mom in the last days of her life has given me a gift that I never would have expected. I remember when she was getting worse that I said to myself that I didn’t want her to die on my birthday. And she didn’t. I’m grateful for that.

Today, as I was thinking about how I’m going to miss her calling me and singing – a bit off key – Happy Birthday to You, she has given me more than a phone call this year. She has given me a gift that has changed my life. I have walked much of her life with her. She was only 19 when I was born. After her divorce from my dad, we struggled through some extreme difficulties together. I have been there for her, and she has been there for me. But I didn’t receive “the gift” while she was alive. It took her death for me to see the gift that she has given me.

She gave me the gift as I heard the testimonies of those who loved her. It was always about her joy, her laughter, her kindness, and the way she deposited into the lives of others. She was all about making deposits into others’ lives. As we walked through life together, I never knew her to make any withdrawals. She didn’t leave people feeling used, taken advantage of, or that she owed them something. She simply — deposited. Even after her death, she was depositing into our lives through the testimonies of those who loved her.

As I think about this birthday and the gifts I am supposed to receive simply because I was born. Hmm…how ironic that she even deposited me into this world. And the greatest gift that I can receive this year, is the desire to deposit into the lives of others, just as my mom did when she was living, and after she died.

I have twenty Ignite the Fire! books that I would like to give away. There is nothing you need to do, no hoops to jump through, no essays to write. Simply let me know in the comments that you want one. Of course I’m going to need to know how to send it to you, so send me an e-mail to terri AT terricamp DOT com. Replace the AT with @ and DOT with . If we’re facebook friends, you can send me a message on facebook with your address. If we’re not facebook friends — why not? Terri Camp on Facebook. Feel free to spread the word. I would love to be able to give away all 20 books on my birthday this year, so I can deposit into the lives of others, just as Mom has shown me through example, how to do.

Thanks for “The Gift” Mom!

Since the fishing wasn’t that great, we packed up and went to a different lake, settling at Gull Lake near Brainerd, MN at Wilson Bay Resort. It was at this resort where some of our greatest memories were created. We made a lot of friends, learned to ski, hike, and fish. We returned year-after-year. I think someone must have taught my dad that kids don’t have to be silent while they fish, the fish will still bite – the right bait, in the right location. And boy did we catch fish! The first year I was squeamish. I didn’t want to touch fish, worms, or boys. The next year, all that changed!

You see, I became brave. I went night crawler hunting with Dad before our trip so we wouldn’t have to buy so many night crawlers. Dad would set the sprinkler in the lawn for hours. Then once it got dark, we would take a flashlight and shine it on the ground. The ground was crawling with big fat juicy worms. I’m not quite sure why I use the word juicy. I guess it sounds better than slimy and gross. They were, but I wanted to impress my dad with my “hunting” skills. He would shine the light, and I would dive for the worms. It was a real treat to find a couple of coupling worms – two for the dive of one. I also learned how to clean fish and even tried my hand at fileting them. I also – fell in love with a boy(s). Dad said that was the year I stopped being afraid. Oh, I was still afraid, but I learned how to push it so far down that no one would be able to see the fear.

No matter how difficult the year was, our vacations to the lake were relaxing and uneventful, except for the time I decided to go for a little walk. Somehow I got turned around and couldn’t find my way back. After several hours I found myself on the point jutting out into the lake on the other side of the bay. As I stood there looking out across the lake I began to cry. I felt lost and alone and didn’t know what to do. Pretty soon a boat came near the point. I began to yell, “Help! Help! Help!” I don’t really remember “the rescue” as much as the feeling of being lost and alone. I hated that feeling. I loved the feeling of being safe and secure with my family.

When I was young I thought I had the greatest parents in the world, even if they were a bit quirky. Now, I love when someone says I’m quirkily charming. Perhaps because it reminds me of my mom. Everywhere she went, people loved her. My sister and I were embarrassed then because we could hear mom’s laugh even when she was out in the boat with my dad, who initially would go fishing in his old suits. He didn’t own a pair of jeans until I was 14 years old. (cont’d)

I’ve never actually completely worked a Rubix Cube. I tried to do it just like I do my life. Work on one color until I’m tired of it, then begin on another color. Before you know it, it’s still all a jumbled mess. This is where I would like to insert – it works for me – but, it doesn’t really, always work for me. Sometimes I just feel like a jumbled mess. Some would say I lack focus. Some would say it’s my personality and I should just go for it. You know, I’m really much happier when doing something new, exploring new ideas, stretching myself beyond where I thought I could go.

But deep inside, I want to get the darn Rubix Cube of my life to just line up and look right. I spend a lot of time and money on programs to line up my life. It completely goes against my grain though, and I end up frustrated and discouraged. When I get like this, I feel anxious and overwhelmed. Do you think it’s possible that I wasn’t actually created to be a completed Rubix Cube?

Perhaps, God really did know what he was doing when he knit me together as a jumbled mess of color. Some of the greatest things in my life have come from doing something new, exploring new ideas, and stretching myself beyond where I thought I could go. Could it be that I’m more of a mess when I’m trying to get the colors all lined in a row?

I have friends who are completed cubes. Don’t mess with them! Don’t move one of the colors! They are happy and content with their life lined up the way it is, even if it’s obvious to the entire world that it may just LOOK lined up, but something is completely out of line.

I’m not a completed puzzle — still being turned, twisted, and rearranged. And I think – I like it that way. Hmm, I think I’ll go discover something new.