Which photo is your favorite?

The first was that I would often find myself feeling disappointed with the way Mother’s Day kind of turned out. I didn’t really want presents or anything, what I wanted was an accumulation of respect for what I did as a mom, all rolled into that one day. I wanted the house to be cleaned, food prepared, and all with smiles on their faces. Of course with 8 kids in under 12 years, that simply wasn’t realistic. I will admit it would have been nice to receive flowers and lavish gifts. But in my heart of hearts, I know that isn’t how people show their appreciation. And to be quite honest with you, I felt loved all the time. I felt like my children honored me every day of the year.

The second reason was that when I would get gifts from the kids and from Steve, they were really kind of … not great gifts. Steve would sometimes take the kids to Dollar General so they could pick out some items for me like cheap perfume, figurines, etc. Now I know I sound like I’m complaining..I’m not really. I loved the “idea” that the kids were choosing gifts for me. It was just that I didn’t really want any of the things they gave me.

One year, I was given flowers, by Steve. Here’s a sample picture of what the flowers looked like.

Yes! These are much like the ones I received for Mother's Day 2001.

How do you graciously accept flowers that you know are meant to be put at a cemetery? I smiled, and said, “thank you.” Then promptly called everyone I know and turned it into a very funny story. If I was going to be given a gravestone marker as my Mother’s Day flowers, I was going to milk it for all it was worth!

Steve strategically placed the flowers in the front yard very close to the street so that all the world could see that a “MOM” is at the house. Of course they wouldn’t know if the mom was dead or alive. But they would know that “MOM” is at the house.

As soon as he finished placing the flowers, I pulled out my “I’m blessing my kids today” thoughts. I liked to take them out for dinner. They thought they were taking me out for dinner. But I’ll tell you a little secret, if they were taking me out for dinner, I would not have chosen the McDonald’s Play Place. I even let them get Happy Meals and then I would take them for some kind of special dessert.

The gifts I really liked were the ones the kids would make themselves. They would make little clay pieces, drawings, or paintings. I didn’t really need flowers, because I had gifts from their hearts.

One of the neatest things the kids would do though is that they would make a banner for me. We had rolls of roll end paper from a newspaper office. Ashley would always direct the making of the banner. Each child would decorate a portion of their banner with their “signature.” I could always tell who decorated which portion and it wasn’t just because of their name being on it, but because they would take what was inside them, and transfer it onto a banner for me. Ashley would write Happy Mother’s Day in big letters, then “make” the rest of the kids add something. Tina would draw beautiful pictures of horses. Cathy would decorate the paper as if it were a party. David would write his name. John would write my name all over the paper. My name was “Mom.” Briana would do her hand prints. Erica smiled all over the paper. And Bryan would step on it. There was always a little footprint somewhere. I loved those banners.

This year I was away visiting with my mom and my sister on a trip to Vegas. In the airport while waiting for my flight I happened into the Brighton store. I spied a lovely ring and earrings that would go great with a lot of outfits that I wear. So I purchased them. When I got home and all the kids were gathered around me as I shared all the stories of my trip, I said to them, “Oh, do you want to see the Mother’s Day gift I bought for you to give me?” In unison they said, “YES!” I showed them the ring and the earrings. I handed them the gift bag and the tissue.

Briana said, “We have to wrap it?” (I may have set the standard too low in those early years.)

I took the present and said, “No, that’s just a formality we can dispense with this year.”

John took the gift bag, tissue, and gifts and said, “YES! We must wrap it.”

Then at 12:01 am John entered my room with a huge smile on his face and said, “Happy Mother’s Day” as he triumphantly handed me the gift bag. I opened it without any fanfare, just John and I sharing a mom and son moment. Inside the bag was not only the gifts I had bought myself but also a gift from John from his heart, a pottery vase he had made in art class. The art work he would create for me when he was very small, all seemed to combine into this one beautiful vase that he had made for me.

I love my kids..and to me…that’s really what Mother’s Day is all about. So today, I drove 30 minutes to the Krispy Kreme donut store so they could have donuts this morning before they went to church.

Happy Mother’s Day to me! and to my kids!

Proverbs 31:29

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.

I was turned on to the idea of paying kids for chores by allowing them to earn chore bucks from Jennifer Steward of Stewardship Ministries. She had a neat chore cards system that rewarded kids when they completed all their chores.

The only problem was it required more out of me than I could seemingly handle. I loved the cards, but I didn’t love having to police it and hand out the chore bucks so the kids could use their chore bucks to pick something. So, I did what I always do. I took what I loved about the system, and threw away the parts that didn’t work for me. What I loved was the Reward system. What I didn’t love was that it felt like a bribe to me.

I would purchase items for the “Good Kids Box.” I tried to find things so there would be items each of the kids would like, bouncy balls, pencils, little horses, dinosaurs, Mad Libs, etc. I would catch my kids in the act of doing something good, and reward them. Routine home things were not always rewarded. We changed the name of chores to JOYS (Joyful Obedient Youthful Service). In other words, it was their duty.

I also had another box I called the “Blessed Kids Box.” This box contained small items like gum, little candy bars, erasers, stickers, etc. The point of this box was if one of the kids did something that warranted picking out of the “Good Kids Box,” everyone else was “blessed” to have a sibling who did something to be rewarded, so the rest of the children picked something out of the “Blessed Kids Box.”
Another thing I would sometimes do is just randomly say, “I’m so BLESSED to have such wonderful children.” One of the kids would look at me and smile.
I would smile nod at her and she would announce, “We get to pick out of the blessed kids box!” The kids loved it!

I found that using the Good Kids Box and Blessed Kids Box met my need of wanting to reward good behavior without it being a bribe.

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”

I turned into Miss Robotic. Everything became just matter-of-fact as I would share the information with loved ones. Inside I was weeping, on the outside, I was calm and steady. (until I got home a few days later)

My mom cracks me up all the time. On day two when the doctor came in her room she asked, “Is it terminal?” Maybe it’s odd to laugh at the question, but it just tickled me, and still does.

While in the hospital Mom said, “Well, since I don’t have much time left on the earth I better get myself a goal.” A while later she said, “My goal is to make everyone smile who comes in contact with me.” That is my mom! Life has never been about her – but always about others. Even though she was in immense pain she needed to get out of her hospital bed and walk. As we walked past the nurses station Mom suddenly began to dance. It was more like a hip-bump-bump kind of thing. But all of the nurses began to laugh. She took my hand, looked me in the eye and said, “Working on that goal!” – then she winked at me.

Without divine intervention, Mom is going to die. We have talked together about funeral arrangements and things like that.

When I was on the plane I saw in the Sky Mall magazine an ad for personalized playing cards. Mom LOVES to play cards. Most of my memories as a kid involve playing games with Mom. We played Cribbage, Five Hundred, all kinds of Solitair games, Nertz, etc. I thought this would be a perfect “take-away” for her family and friends.

I shared the idea with my sister who gently reminded me that they don’t give out party favors at funerals.

I still thought I had a brilliant idea and shared it with my mom on the phone. She LOVED the idea! She had me look up prices. She said, “I don’t want flowers at my funeral” But I would love to have playing cards for everyone.

The next day she called and said, “Did you know they have “living funerals?”

I said to her, “Mom! That’s called a party!”

She said, “Well, I want one!” I couldn’t believe the excitement in her voice when she began to talk about having a party. She would invite all of her family and then they wouldn’t have to come down for the funeral. They could remember her as being fun. (Have I mentioned that I decided a long time ago that I don’t “do” funerals?) She then started talking about having a garage sale at the same time and it would pretty much pay for the party.

I think it’s a grand idea! Then we can give out party favors! We talked about how to personalize the cards. I suggested a picture of her standing by the semi truck she used to drive. She liked that idea. Then I said, “Maybe the caption should simply say,
Ilene Harlan born June 17, 1945
SHE LIVED!

Mom loved it! – because it is the truth.

So, we’re planning a party. Y’all are invited!
Then ….later….. we’ll all get to have a party again!

I took this picture of Mom and Shileen when we went to visit last weekend. Mom was having a rough day. When I saw them sitting together like that, I just got such a sense of peace. She may be resting on the outside – but on the inside – she’s having a party!

Another thing my brain seems to do is actively invent new products. Oh, if I only had the resources to research all of my ideas! I may have figured out that what I really love is the research and not necessarily seeing the fruition of my idea. No, what I really love is telling someone my idea then having them tell me it’s “brilliant and you should do it!” That’s all I’m after, the words proclaiming how smart I am. (Now if that isn’t egotistical I don’t know what is – but I’m just being real here)

I would venture to say that on an average day I will use the phrase, “I have an idea” at least five times. Most of my ideas are ways to make the life of a mom just a little bit easier. With eight kids, I’ve had a lot of opportunity to make my life easier.

One of my ideas is a Night Owl Alarm Clock. It would be set at a certain time which would tell the child, “time to brush your teeth and put on your jammies.” Then 15 minutes later, it would chime again letting them know they are to get their FINAL drink of water. In five minutes another alarm would signal the child to get into bed. One more alarm (you set the time) would tell the child to put down the book and turn out the lights.  Isn’t it brilliant? Want to invest?

I’m always striving to solve problems. Case in point – The other day while visiting my mom in MO there was another visitor in the house. Little Xavier’s mom was in the hospital having a baby. She had to stay over an extra day so Xavier was staying with his Grandma (who my mom lives with). His Grandma gave Xavier a bath, but as she was getting him ready realized there were no longer any diapers in his suitcase.  It would be an hour before anyone could bring her diapers. Grandma got a little flustered with Xavier being “half neked.” I happened to look over and saw a Wal Mart bag. That’s when the idea took shape. We could put his legs through the bottom of the bag then take the loops and put his arms through the loops. Everyone laughed at my idea. I thought it was brilliant. His Grandma said, “There is no way he’ll let me put this on him.” She sat Xavier on her lap and proceed to slide his legs into the bag. The loops went over his arms, but kept falling down. I recommended a twist tie. We tied the loops behind him and he was able to go play without constantly being aware he was “half neked” and with Grandma not worrying about him having an accident on the couch.

As soon as he had on the “diaper” someone in the kitchen said, “Oh my gosh! It’s a redneck diaper!”

So, here is my first fully functional invention – The Redneck Diaper!

Xavier modeling his redneck diaper

This is a friend of a friend in Des Moines. She lives just off a busy street.

Well, there is good news and bad news about my
Christmas decorations this year Good news is that I truly
out did myself this year with my Christmas decorations.  The bad
news is that I had to take him down after 2 days. I had more people come
screaming up to my house than ever. Great stories. But two things made
me take it down. First, the cops advised me that it would cause traffic
accidents as they almost wrecked when they drove by. Second, a 55 year
old lady grabbed the 75 pound ladder almost killed herself putting it
against my house and didn’t realize it was fake until she climbed to the
top (she was not happy). By the way, she was one of many people who
attempted to do that. My yard couldn’t take it either. I have more than
a few tire tracks where people literally drove up my yard. Kind of feel like I
gave in to the  man by taking him down but my neighbor did confirm
to near miss accidents on the busy street next to my house. I think I
made him too real this time So it was fun while it lasted.  

My mom is relatively young, just 65, but hasn’t really kept herself in very good health. We had been talking about how cool it would be for her to move to Texas to live near the grandkids, who always seem to give her so much pleasure. I had grand ideas of getting my clutches into my mom. (Did I really say it like that?) I was hoping that we could help her with nutrition and exercise. These were things I was looking forward to doing.

My mom is one of those people who lights up a room. It’s like she carries her own little Christmas light all year long. Actually, she’s more like one of those goofy Christmas elves that sings and dances making everyone within a short distance stare — and laugh. Last Christmas she decided she was going to try to fly to the moon. She got a broomstick and started running around (I don’t know how in the world she managed to run around in my yard). Anyway, she had a blast trying to fly to the moon.  She didn’t quite make it — not that time anyway.

Like I said before she’s been kind of not well for a lot of years. It seems like every few months there’s something new. She had gone into the hospital a couple of weeks ago thinking she had kidney stones. After some tests, they decided to do a biopsy. On Wed night before Thanksgiving the doctor called and told her to come in on Friday to begin chemotherapy. The news rocked my world. It was like being punched in the gut for a minute. As the tears fell, I began to think about positive things. I had somehow managed to leave the house that day with no make-up on my face. As tears poured down my cheeks, I thought, “At least I don’t have make-up streaks.” That reminded me that I got that “look on the bright side of every situation” attitude from my mom. Another great thought was that I had just managed to make enough money selling my Ignite the Fire book online so that I could drive up to see her.

I left on Thanksgiving for the ten hour drive. Meanwhile, friends had been preparing a marvelous turkey dinner with all the fixin’s that they were taking over to my house. So, even though I wasn’t home, my kids still had a great Thanksgiving with friends — and each other!

When I was about 7 minutes from my exit, my car suddenly quit moving. So there I sat on a dark cold night, on the side of the road. I was ready to begin bawling. But again, I decided there must be something good. I said to God, “Well God, it’s just you and me, You may as well have a seat.” And He did. We had a nice little chat. I called a tow truck. Within about an hour, I was back on the road. I still don’t know why the car quit working. I’m praying it will not do that again!

It was probably time for me to have some good quality time with my mom. I wouldn’t have chosen to do it at her hospital bedside, but I’ll take anything I can get at this point.

Mom has been in a lot of pain for quite awhile. After the first day they gave her a morphine drip which made her say she has NO pain. Then she started passing kidney stones! How cool is that? She got to pass the stones while on a morphine drip.

My mom is one of those really special people —-  And that’s all I’m going to say about that now.