Staring

As much as I love being a mom, there are some things in my job description I don't necessarily enjoy.  Cooking for them, not my favorite.  Cleaning after them, no thank you.  Taking them to run errands, brushing their teeth, disciplining them, eh, blah, urgh.  But there's one thing both Mike and I love about raising this brood of ours...staring at them.  I don't know if it's required of us as parents, but we are very good at it.  The way Marcus chews his food with his mouth open, the way Audrey flashes her gummy smile, the way Derek slaps his bare feet on the ground and propels one arm while walking to the next room, yeah, we've studied it all meticulously.  I'm sure all you moms and dads out there feel the same way.

Maybe that's why I like taking pictures so much; so that after the 5th "Children, get in bed and go to sleep now!", we can huddle around the laptop to stare at them again and giggle at how amazing it is that God gave us this family, of which we are completely undeserving.

Lately, I've loved watching them hang out, especially during the peaceful, non-violent, screamless moments when they're enjoying each other as much as I'm enjoying them.  Something about seeing them quietly huddled around together gives me warm fuzzies.





And Audrey's gotta be loving the built-in fan club she's got with her brothers. Whatever she wants to do is the best idea, in their opinion.





Derek, though suffering from "I'm a 3rd child so I'm a bad boy," really wants to thank us for providing him two siblings to look up to.





He always has someone to downward dog with.

Double Dog

Triple Dog

Unfortunately, though, his head circumference, which is in the 100th percentile for his age, provides a bit of a yoga handicap.



So he'll just do some meditating instead. Namaste, my child.



Or he'll sit and wait while his brother perfects his Jean-Claude Van Damme.



What's another spectacle worth staring at? Seeing how madly in love CA Grandma is with her lover boy.





And watching Big D dish out the love to his family...kills me!







I've got to admit that I also do my share of husband staring, but I will spare you the details lest you get queezy. It helps when he is holding one of our offspring so I can analyze them both simultaneously. It also helps when they share the same face.



This moment, however, I will try to forget for the rest of the my life. Why? Because my beloved daughter conveniently "forgot" to wear an important piece of undergarment this evening and I didn't know until after we got home, which was followed by strict orders to get in the bath and then me covering my face in shock, totally appalled. Sorry to all the kids who have since ridden the ostrich at the Irvine Spectrum carrousel.  My apologies.



The way Mike leans into the kids for a kiss, the peach fuzz you can see under Derek's ears, the way Marcus rolls his head and flaps his legs when he gets excited, the way Audrey tucks her hair behind her right ear when she's hesitant about something...I've got it all down.

Vulnerable

What is it about this boy that makes me know no higher joy, and yet leaves me so vulnerable?



While we rejoice at where he is today, and where God has brought our family, at times I still feel like my heart is an open wound, bare and unsheltered, lying in the middle of a war zone, where at any moment, grenades and spears and bullets can attack with no mercy.  Growing older and more aware of the ills of living in this fallen world, I see my children and Marcus in particular, and want to pack up our stuff to live in a cave, pretending that the world won't be able to touch us.

I hate that I'll read an article about how teenagers with disabilities have no real friends, see a Facebook status about how someone's autistic son now struggles with debilitating seizures, or I'll hear about older children with JS struggling so profoundly with emotional and behavioral challenges, or parents grieving the incredible loss of their child, and then look at Marcus and want to roll up in a ball and cry, fearing that those will be realities for him some day.  I know it's wrong to assume he'll face these things, but more likely than not, there will be extreme valleys ahead for us in one form or another.

When I'm left alone to the statistics, I go a little nuts.  But thanks be to the Holy Spirit to remind me of my Savior.

He was despised and rejected by men;
A man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;
And as one from whom men hide their faces
He was despised, and we esteemed him not.

Surely he has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.

Isaiah 53:3-4

I love that Jesus was a man of sorrows. Perfect in every way, but not haughty, because He was despised and broken. He carried the vileness of this world on Himself and we, for whom He suffered, hated Him. When God crushed Him on the cross on my behalf, He carried in his heart all the issues I fear in life. He understood loneliness, being an outcast, debilitating physical pain, emotional turmoil, death.

I love that when God says in His Word that all the pain in this life is "light" and "momentary" (2 Cor 4:17), He's not saying that with the air of "Okay, so just suck it up, folks." He's telling us that because although in light of eternity, the pain is short, He also understands that our affliction is deeply painful at times.

I'm gonna go out on a limb here, but I don't know if I could love Jesus if He never knew pain.  It would be extremely difficult to put my trust and hope in a Savior who did not understand my heart.  But thankfully, my Lord not only understands, but has experienced it Himself.  He died with all the world's pain on His shoulders and suffered the full wrath of God so that I wouldn't have to.  And for that, I love Him.  I love my Savior who walks me through this momentary life and guides me across the minefields ahead, having already experienced the worst of it Himself.

I love that He gave me and Mike a son who is a living reminder of all that He is for us.

Hot Date

I asked him out last week, he said yes, so we headed to the beach, just the two of us.



We did typical date stuff, like hold hands, sweet talk each other, and maybe even kiss a little. (gasp!)



I admired his muscles and beady eyes.



And marveled at how big and juicy his lips got when he was concentrating.





He wanted me.





And he showed off some moves.



Even was trying to be macho though he was scared.



I think he had a great time with me. He said he was up for doing it again some time.



I think this relationship is going somewhere. We're in love.

My Kids Are Weird

I've decided that the most annoying sound in the world is this:



What is it? It's called fake crying.



Especially when I'm trying to get dinner ready so that I can feed my children, hearing crying that's not due to hemorrhaging or being held up at gunpoint is pretty annoying. Can I get an "amen", all you moms out there?





One evening, Marcus was in the other room seemingly rehearsing the perfect cry.







He would change his pitch, tone, put in some dramatic effects, pauses here and there.



I never knew that children actually practiced getting on their parents' nerves.



And the Oscar goes to...Marcus Lee



for his dramatic performance in "Let's See How We Can Get Under Mama's Skin".



Meanwhile, his budding actor brother decides that he is jealous of the camera Mama is holding.



Oh, but hold it, hold it, let's now practice making funny noises with our mouths.



And then, Black Swan enters the scene.



Only to suffer a self-induced concussion.



Oh, but wait, wait...it's also time to make screeching alien noises with the Academy Award winner.



And then there are no words for how the story ends.



My kids are weird.  And yours?