Stinker Babies -

Swimming Lessons Survival Tips for Parents

June 10, 2013 · By Ashley · 7 Comments

After years of saying it was time, I decided that this summer would be the summer when my kids learned to swim.

Okay, so that was two years ago, but THIS summer is truly THE summer when my kids will learn to swim.

Or at least start the process…

On Tuesday afternoon, I brought my very excited 4-year-old and so-close-to-being-a-7-year-old to their very first swim lesson. They were so ready! Grace was in the first group and just plopped herself down on the second step ready to conquer the pool. She listened. She laughed. She followed directions. She was a rock star.

Caleb sat on the sidelines and cheered for his sister. ”Go Gracie! You can do it!!” Then my sweet supportive kiddo had his turn. He was focused. He was brave. He was eager to learn. He was awesome.

So not only had I ventured out of the house alone with both kids, but the activity involved water. I handed out quite a few pats on the back and the kids got some, too.

DCF 1.0 At dinner that night, we were talking about how they had done such a great job and what a great thing it is to know how to swim. I was planning an end-of-lessons celebratory trip to our local pool. My kids, however, were thinking more along the lines of SCUBA certification and lobstering in the Keys. Hmmm. I just can’t imagine where they get their totally unrealistic planning ideas. Definitely couldn’t be their mother who might read every single Groupon Getaway e-mail and drool profusely at the thought of a getaway. But that’s another post entirely.

So the next day at swimming lessons, I was trying hard to avoid the “humble brag” and just let the kids do their thing. We were about 2/3 of the way through Grace’s lesson when the teacher told her to blow her bubbles and then gently dunked her under.

A confident, excited swimmer went under the water. The child who came up was totally unrecognizable. Sputtering, spitting, and insanely furious, this child hated anything and anyone that had anything to do with swimming.

The next lesson was miserable. Gracie screamed, kicked, fled, threatened, splashed, and screamed some more. She completely refused to do anything the teacher asked. While I was sitting there on the edge of the pool, trying to keep my daughter from terrifying the other kids or scarring the teacher for life, I came up with a few ideas that could make swimming lessons a little more fun for the parents.

Ear Plugs Not for the swimmers. For the parents. During Grace’s group, the kiddos give us a 30-minute concert of crying, whining, and (from my child) ear-piercing screams. Instead of suffering through the headaches, we could just pop in some ear plugs and rock on.

Margarita Machine I’m not sure if an explanation is actually needed for this one. It’s either this or free Xanax for everyone. I’m leaning toward the margaritas.

Place Your Bets We should set up a table under the gazebo where we can place some bets. Which kid can be eventually persuaded to put his face in the water? Which kid will scream the longest? How far will she run before her mom catches her? There are endless possibilities. Possibly walking away with some extra cash would totally be a great motivation for sticking it out.

Water Slide Again. Not for the swimmers. For the parents. I’m thinking one of those ginormous inflatable slides with a pool at the bottom. This could be an excellent distraction for us while we would otherwise be sweating to death, trying to remember why this particular torture is a good idea, gulping down ibuprofen for the massive headaches all the screaming and whining brought on.

DJ Swimmy Swim We could hire a lifeguard / DJ to watch the kids and spin some Summer Hits of the 90s. Combine this with the margarita machine and I might be picking up a Nobel Prize. You’re welcome.

I will definitely be thinking of these ideas in a couple of hours when I’m getting through today’s lesson. We are very happy with our SAINT of an instructor. They are learning, even when they’re screaming. And even though I joke about how awful it is, this is so incredibly important and I’m very grateful for our lessons.

And, no, I haven’t already gotten into the Xanax. But if you have some extra, let me know.

Filed Under: motherhood · Tagged: Summer, swimming lessons, torture

Dear Teachers…

June 3, 2013 · By Ashley · 6 Comments

If you saw me in traffic on Thursday night, you might have seen me blubbering at a stop light. I was out picking up a couple of little things for Caleb’s teachers to go with their Target gift cards. (You know…for keeping Caleb “on Target” for this year. So punny it hurts.)

I was trying to figure out what I wanted to say to his teachers and aides in their cards. Of course, it turned into a novel before I got home and I was choked up the whole time. First of all, how do you adequately thank someone for loving your child? And second of all, without too much of a spoiler, I knew this was going to be my last chance.

This was my best attempt. It still feels like it could never be enough.

*************************************************************************************************

Dear ___________ (I don’t want to use names without asking permission first),

Back in October of 2011, I felt like our world was kinda turned upside down. We thought we knew the path we were supposed to take with Caleb’s education. When that path had a dead end, we were pretty discouraged. We weren’t really sure where to turn next. As a mom, I knew I had to find the best fit for Caleb and I felt the weight of that decision so heavily on my shoulders.

While most schools would not have gone out of its way to help a family outside of the school zone, Ms. _______ (the principal) was so kind and gracious with her time to give us a tour of the school and encourage us with her suggestions. From the first moment we came to _____ Elementary School, we were made to feel so welcome. Once we met _____’s team (the ESE class), we knew we were in good hands. We were home. I was so happy with the progress Caleb made during his Kindergarten year. He really settled in and was so happy with his class and his friends.

This year in 1st grade, we saw new challenges with the transition to mainstream. As a mom, I was really nervous about leaving the nest. I worried that Caleb might be overwhelmed or that he would lose some of his progress when he was one of so many. I taught 2^nd grade once upon a time and I remember how stressful it was to make sure each one of my 25 students got the attention they needed and deserved. All of those fears were quickly laid to rest. _____ (the mainstream teacher) has been the perfect match for Caleb’s first mainstream experience. He has felt so much a part of the class, even though he was a late arrival. A few days ago, he began to realize that he wouldn’t be in Mrs. _____’s class anymore. His tears just broke my heart but were also such a confirmation that his experience has been exactly what he needed.

I have seen such growth and maturity in my son. He has grown from a shy little boy into this confident big kid. Academically and socially, we are amazed at his progress. It’s the kind of growth that doesn’t come from just a good curriculum or a great classroom. No, this is the kind of beautiful progress that comes from teachers – and I am referring to all of you as you have each taught my son in so many ways – teachers who pour love and kindness into their students, their kids. This is the kind of incredible progress that can happen when speech therapists, occupational therapists, behavior specialists, aides, front office staff, cafeteria workers, special area teachers, guidance counselors, principals, coaches, pick-up and drop-off attendants, and so many others come together with teachers and form this beautiful community who cares. It has been an incredible sight to behold. I’ve honestly never seen anything like this family that is ______ Elementary School.

Because of all the love and support you have given our child, he has new paths and possibilities that have opened up for him. You have laid such an amazing foundation that I feel like his potential is limitless. After a huge amount of thought and prayer and tears, both happy and sad, we’ve decided to enroll Caleb in Classical Conversations, a homeschool group here in town. Caleb’s mind is so unique and beautiful. He has so many gifts and talents and I believe that this particular curriculum along with a flexible schedule and a one-on-one instruction at his own pace will really continue to build him up. I feel like the world has opened up for him and it’s all because of you.

There are no words adequate enough to thank each of you who have made this possible. Each one of you has contributed a part of yourself – compassion, patience, joy, peace, a love of learning and love itself – and all of those things add up to the most beautiful mosaic. We cannot begin to tell you how much it means to us.

We will never forget the role you’ve played in our child’s life and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We pray God’s most abundant blessings on you and your families.

With lots of love,

Jacob, Ashley, Caleb & Grace

Filed Under: autism, ESE to mainstream, Homeschool, motherhood · Tagged: autism, ESE, Homeschool, mainstream, motherhood, Summer, Teacher Appreciation

The Intruder

May 30, 2013 · By Ashley · 2 Comments

It happened around 12:30 a.m. on Tuesday night / Wednesday morning when I took the dog out back to potty. I left the back door slightly cracked just in case the kids woke up.

In the three minutes we were out back, an intruder quietly slipped into my house.

He was right behind me and I didn’t even know it.

I almost woke the neighborhood when I saw him. Jake was working. It was the middle of the night. I didn’t think this would quite count as wildlife removal (although it totally should). I knew I was going to have to put on my big girl pants and deal with it. I planned to catch and release as quickly as possible.

I grabbed a Tupperware container and a spatula. Then I decided I liked that particular container too much so I threw it back in the cabinet and got an old one with orange stains from spaghetti sauce. (Speaking of…Does anyone know how to get that out?)

The Intruder saw me coming. He knew his time was short. I had my game face on and we were going to nip this little adventure of his in the bud. But he was just too quick for me with all his slitherin’ and sticky feet and - insert shudder here - stuff and he hid somewhere in the black hole that is the space under / behind our piano.

Now I know what you’re probably thinking… It’s just a lizard. He’s actually almost cute. What’s the big deal?

Well I’m glad you asked. Because I’m going to tell you all the reasons it’s a big deal!

Here are all the ~~crazy~~ ~~irrational~~ somewhat realistic things I’ve worried about during the last two days.

#1 The Intruder was going to slither it’s creepy little self all the way from the dining room through the living room, down the hall, into my bedroom and onto my face while I slept. Nevermind that it would be the lizard equivalent of 37 miles. It could happen.

#2 The Intruder was going to crawl inside my piano and the next time the kids wanted to play chopsticks…well…let’s just say the piano would have seen better days. And smells.

#3 The Intruder was going to get comfy somewhere in my house and lay eggs. Then there would be lots of little Intruders squirmin’ and slitherin’ all over the place.

#4 The dog would find The Intruder before I did. Then there would be trails of gore all over the house. The kids would be traumatized and I would have to clean it up, gagging all the while.

#5 The kids would find The Intruder before I did. Then we would somehow end up with a terrarium and a permanent addition to the family. I would end up at the pet store figuring out what to feed a gecko. We would then have reptiles AND bugs in our house. On purpose.

#6 The Intruder would be waiting for me to open the cabinet and then pop out to say “HI!” I would then jump backwards, trip over the dog who is always behind me, crack my head on the edge of the counter, and my kids would have to figure out how to call 911 on our phone with the battery that is never charged. We would all be traumatized and need lots of therapy.

#7 I would step on The Intruder on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. See previously mentioned issues with gore, gagging, and clean up.

#8 The Intruder would be enjoying a nice swim in the toilet when I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.

#9 The Intruder would find a comfy place to rest inside my shoe. I wouldn’t see it until I started to stick my foot in there and it would slither up my leg and around my waist and up my back into my hair. I would scream, pass out, spend the next three hours in the shower, and only wear sandals and flip flops for the rest of my life. No matter the temperature. I would end up with frost bite and lose a few toes.

#10 Word would get around the gecko community that lives just outside my door eating all the bugs attracted to our porch lights. We would have more and more Intruders. They’ll tell each other in their little lizard language how great our house is. Then word would spread amongst all the reptiles and amphibians. Our first snake would arrive via the tub faucet while I was in the shower. And then? Well, then I would die.

So you see, folks. It is a big deal. And by the way, The Intruder is still here. Somewhere. Just biding his time before he gets started on this list.

Let this be a cautionary tale. Always close the door behind you when you take the dog out back.

If you enjoyed this post, feel free to pin this image on Pinterest!

Filed Under: Fears, Uncategorized · Tagged: gecko, irrational fears, lizards, reptiles

Lessons from Mainstream

May 22, 2013 · By Ashley · 2 Comments

From his very first staffing meeting three years ago, the big ultimate goal has been the same. Each time we’d meet to discuss the ol’ IEP, we’d be reminded of the endgame.

Mainstream.

At the time, it was a pretty scary word. Caleb started out in an inclusive ESE pre-K class. He was not the most challenged student and he was not the least. Falling somewhere in the middle of the pack, he was slated to join a mainstream kindergarten class. There would be as many as 25 students, some in school for the first time, all needing some kind of attention from the one teacher who would be in the room. My mama spidey sense was tingling away. I didn’t want him to get left behind or looked over. So we decided to enroll him in a private school with a mainstream kindergarten class with only seven kids in it. 1:7 was a much more comforting ratio to me than 1:25.

Just a few weeks into school, we were already meeting to discuss other arrangements. It wasn’t working out.

After much research and getting special allowance from our school district, Caleb was enrolled in a school close to our home but outside of our zone.

We found our place. The teacher was specially trained in all things ASD. There were three assistants in this class of 8 little boys. I could bring my child to school, entrust him to these four wonderfully patient and saintly ladies, and know deep in my mama heart that he wasn’t only having his educational needs met but he was loved.

And because they loved my child, they wanted to see him succeed in meeting that mainstream goal just as much as I did.

After a year and a half, that day came.

Caleb had been placed with a wonderful 1st grade teacher who was just right for him and he loved her.

In the last few months, I’ve learned that meeting that goal was not an ending but more of a beginning. We’ve started all over with a new set of goals, fears, and lessons to learn.

Here are a few of those lessons I’ve learned…

The transition from ESE to Mainstream can be just as hard on the parent as it is for the student.
We were in a comfortable place in our little ESE nest. It was our second year with the same friends and the same teachers. We had communication every single day and sometimes throughout the day. We had the same schedule, the same behavior system, and I knew all of the other moms. During that transition, we had multiple teachers with different communication systems, different teaching styles, different assistants, the names of the friends were all running together. It was a lot to keep straight. For example, we had Valentine’s Day festivities during this transition. Two different class events, seven teachers, 30 friends. And I’m so thankful for every single one, don’t get me wrong. It’s just a lot to keep straight!

Struggle does not equal failure.
Being in a mainstream class, there are different expectations. He’s expected to be able to follow directions the first time. Focus on and complete the assignments within the time given. Participate in activities with his classmates. That is not wrong. This is the point of being in a mainstream class – to learn and practice functioning in a “real world” learning environment. It can be discouraging when the expectations are not quite met. If I’m not careful, I can become disappointed when the weekly note continues to report the same struggles. But then I remind myself of how far we’ve come. The teacher is quick to say that there are also many instances when Caleb is a total rock star. Especially with the academics. It’s a process. It will take time and practice.

There are nice kids and there are not-so-nice kids.
Kids are kids. I get it. I was one. I had my moments of being bullied and also moments of being a horrible little person myself. I don’t know why. I think sometimes it’s just a phase we go through as we learn how to be the person we want to be. But when it’s your child on the receiving end of someone’s “phase,” you are slightly less understanding and patient. Some of his new classmates have gone above and beyond to welcome him. I’ll never forget the day he came home from school bursting with excitement because a friend had invited him to sit together at lunch. He was so proud to have a friend. My heart swelled. But, unfortunately, I’ll also never forget the day we were out somewhere and he saw a classmate. We were five feet away when Caleb called the kid’s name over and over and over. ”Hi ___! Hi! Hi! Hi _____! Hi ____! Hi!!” Caleb’s grin was huge. He thought it was the greatest thing to see his friend outside of school. This kid just ignored him. She stared through my child as if he didn’t exist and she couldn’t be bothered. My heart broke. I knew this wouldn’t be the last time we had to deal with jerky little kids but I also tried to remember the sweethearts who saw the funny, caring, smart, loving person that is my son. There will be many more of those sweethearts, too.

Appreciate everyone for their example – both good and bad.
Everyone you meet, whether it’s parents or teachers, classmates or administrators, will provide an example. Many times, they will show you examples of love and respect, patience and support. I’m so thankful for that. Sometimes, they will show you examples of ways you will never want to speak to or treat other human beings. I’m also thankful for that. I’m happy to say that there have been many more wonderful examples of good than bad. But both examples have their place and their value in life.

Mainstream does not equal typical.
Mainstream does not mean that your child can suddenly fit in. Most of the time, it actually means that he might stand out. He will always have his quirks, challenges, gifts, and talents. That’s how he’s built. And this could be a controversial statement for some, but I wouldn’t change him for the world. I will do all I can to equip him to navigate this world. And I will also do all I can to equip our world to appreciate this amazing person that I have been gifted with raising.

Mainstreaming was always the goal. I always saw it as the ultimate end result of the love and training poured into him by his ESE team. I was wrong. It’s just one more step on his path. It’s a big step. It can be a frustrating step and even a terrifying step. But it’s the next step and I’m so thankful to be walking this path with our incredible team of teachers and staff, gathering lessons learned along the way.

Filed Under: autism, motherhood, school · Tagged: autism, ESE, IEP, mainstream, motherhood, school, teachers

In a Heartbeat

May 20, 2013 · By Ashley · 6 Comments

Photo credit: Adam Doyle

The first time it happened was at a birthday party. He was three.

There were lots of kids going in and out. There was music. There were lots of colors and decorations.

There was a just a heartbeat in time that I took my eyes off of him to make sure Jake was okay with the baby.

I looked back to my child. And he was gone.

All the air was immediately sucked out of the room. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like my blood had turned to ice. After a few minutes that stretched for an eternity, we found him and grabbed him up just as he was walking into the path of a horse.

This incident really affected me. It took me a long time to be willing to leave the house again with both kids on my own.

A few months later, I wanted to do something special with the kids. I think I also wanted to prove to myself that I could safely leave the house with the kids. Jake was up to his eyeballs in nursing school and I didn’t want to be under house arrest any longer. So I started with a small outing and I took them just up the road to McDonald’s to get them a Happy Meal.

As I tried carrying the food and holding both of their little hands on the way to a booth, Caleb slipped out of my grip. Just like that. In a heartbeat, he was at the door that exited into the lane where cars zoom away, usually in an angry rush, after they finally get their drive-thru order. I left my 15-month-old daughter toddling in a McDonald’s as I ran out of the building to grab my son. I grabbed him just before he stepped off the curb and an SUV came speeding around the corner.

I walked back inside, picked up my terrified baby, and we walked right out of the door, leaving the “happy” meals right where they sat scattered on the table.

I concluded that we wouldn’t be leaving the house again anytime soon.

About a year later, 4-year-old Caleb and 2-year-old Grace were seemingly hypnotized by an episode of Thomas. My children were sitting on our couch in our living room in our home. I dared to use the restroom. It took me no more than 95 seconds. When I came back into the living room, the front door was standing open. They were both wandering around the front yard.

We installed door alarms. We have door locks at the tops of the doors. We ordered a Big Red Safety Box and applied the stop sign visuals. I started researching service dogs.

We have done everything I can think of to help stop wandering and elopement.

Last week, Caleb (who will turn 7 in just a few weeks) was using the iPad in the living room while Grace and I took our service dog, April, out in the back yard to potty. Caleb came out and told me that there was someone here to see me. When I went to the front door, our friendly neighborhood Jehovah’s Witness was standing there. She had (ironically) come to deliver a pamphlet on children and safety but it was almost forgotten in her concern that Caleb had just opened the door and invited her in. The high locks are not high enough now.

I have done everything I know to be possible to keep my child safe. And yet, in a heartbeat, things can change.

These are just a few of our scares. Scares that we don’t like to talk about much. Because talking about them brings back those moments of panic and terror. It also leaves us, as parents, open to criticism and judgement. And maybe that’s exactly why we should be talking about it. Almost half (about 49%) of children with autism have wandering and elopement issues. And here’s the part that is difficult for so many people to understand. It has nothing to do with parenting.

Last week, I saw the news about 9-year-old Mikaela Lynch. She wandered away from home and drowned in a nearby creek.

On Friday, a missing child alert came again. This time it was for 7-year-old Owen Black. He was vacationing with his family just a couple of hours down the interstate from us. He wandered away from the condo and drowned in the Gulf of Mexico. When I looked at Owen’s sweet smiling face in his picture, I saw Caleb. They are about the same age and have similar coloring and features.

It could have been Caleb.

It could have been any of our children.

The loss of these children is felt deeply throughout our community. But it’s Owen’s family and Mikaela’s family and too many other families who are feeling the unimaginable hurt that comes with living your worst nightmare. And instead of love, support, and friendship, these families are facing criticism and judgement.

I have done everything that I know to be possible to keep my child safe. And I also know, that it would only take a heartbeat in time for it all to change.

I know these families are no different from mine. I am a thousand percent sure that they, too, did everything they know to be possible to keep their children safe. And yet in a heartbeat, it all changed.

Did you read the news stories? Did you perhaps tsk, heave a sigh, and wonder how someone lets their child get that far away from them? Did you count your blessings? Did you hug your children and wonder how you can help?

Please visit AWAARE.org for frequently asked questions, safety materials, toolkits, and ways you can become involved in your community.

Today, I’m joining countless other bloggers in the autism community to show support and love to these families who have lost their precious babies. We stand with you. We stand together.

Filed Under: autism, autism community, Uncategorized · Tagged: autism, elopement, wandering

Carolina in My Mind

May 6, 2013 · By Ashley · 1 Comment

There are few things in this world whose existence is debated in certain cultures…

Nessie.

'IMG_4837' photo (c) 2010, Bob Doran - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Bigfoot.

Chupacabra.

A weekend away without the kids.

The true believers say that they were skeptics, too, until they came face to face with these mythical beings.

I’m here to tell you, folks, I had a close encounter of the best kind.

It all started last weekend. I didn’t believe it was really happening until we had crossed the state line. It was just me and Jake. On the wide open road. On our way to meet up with some of our dearest friends. In one of the most special places in the world to me. Montreat, NC.

On Friday morning, there was this:

Hot cup of coffee on the balcony? Yes please!

Then we took a little trip down memory lane. We hiked Lookout Mountain to visit the exact spot where, eleven years ago, Jake got down on one knee, pulled a ring from his pocket and asked me if we could share the rest of our lives together. Come what may. The trail has eroded quite a bit in the last decade, making it incredibly more steep and rugged and you are literally climbing up rocks at times. A little altitude-induced asthma (we went from our daily 200 ft to over 3600 ft) and the threat of being a Lifetime Moment of Truth movie slowed me down a bit but could not stop me from reaching the top.

11 years later…

It was definitely not the first time my stubbornness has gotten me through and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I just hope Life Flight won’t be involved in any of those instances.

We drove into Asheville that night. We ate food that our kiddos would never go for (Mela Indian Restaurant) and it was absolutely wonderful! It was Jake’s first time and he loved the Duck Tandoori. We followed that up with a pint at Hannah Flannagan’s Pub and some awesome live music from Leigh Glass and the Hazards.

On Saturday, my BFF and I went into Black Mountain for pedicures. Then we window shopped and had lunch with our husbands at Veranda Cafe. If you get the chance to eat there, please do. You won’t be sorry. There were about 17 things on the menu that I would have loved to taste. But learn from our mistake… If a good Shrimp and Grits dish makes you do the yummy dance, get there early. They had sold out by the time we ordered.

After our Black Mountain excursion, we headed back to Montreat.

I was 11 years old when my family first visited Montreat. There are conferences and camps there every summer. I spent a week there with my church group every year. Have you ever had a place where you felt just a little closer to God? Where His voice seemed to be a little louder and more easily heard?

Be still…

Montreat is that place for me. And hidden within the heart of that precious town is one of the most peaceful spots I’ve ever experienced.

The Prayer Porch is a little open-air room tucked away behind one of the college’s buildings. It sits in a stand of trees and shrubs and perches just above the creek. There are notebooks from years and years past that have been filled with prayers. Joy, struggle, hope, longing, despair and peace are all found there on those blue-lined pages.

Jake and I were able to visit the Prayer Porch and just be still. We sat on the benches, listened to the sounds of the rain and the creek and we pondered life. Where we’ve been and the lessons we’ve learned. Where we’re going and how those lessons will be applied. We prayed. We listened. We heard. We left with peaceful spirits.

We swore to ourselves that we will go in search of this mythical weekend alone together again before years pass.

Here are a few more examples of my very amateur photographic evidence proving the existence of the elusive weekend away. =)

Lake Susan at Montreat, NC

Along the Lookout Mountain trail

Enjoying the journey

Best kitchen window view EVER. Available for rent! http://www.greybeardrentals.com/cabin-rentals/Montreat/4-Bedroom/Mountain-View/Mountai

Best kitchen window view EVER and this beautiful home is available for vacation rentals! http://www.greybeardrentals.com/cabin-rentals/Montreat/4-Bedroom/Mountain-View/Mountai

“Walk down this mountain with your heart held high.” – Bebo Norman

Filed Under: motherhood, mountains, mythical creatures, road trip, Uncategorized · Tagged: Black Mountain, Lookout Mountain, Montreat, motherhood, North Carolina, road trip, weekend getaway

Proverbs 31 Challenge: Back in Business!

April 18, 2013 · By Ashley · Leave a Comment

This is going to be super short because my husband is finally home tonight and I’d love to have an actual conversation with him. =)

I didn’t want to get up this morning but, even more so, I didn’t want to feel guilty and lazy like I did yesterday.

So up I went and got back in the game. Hopefully, I can finish strong for this week and enjoy a day of rest on Saturday.

If you’ve been joining in with this or if you’ve done something like this in the past, I’d love to hear how it went! Feel free to use the comments section to tell your story. =)

Happy Friday!

Filed Under: Uncategorized ·

Proverbs 31 Challenge: Failure

April 17, 2013 · By Ashley · 2 Comments

So about that whole honesty thing…

Alright. I’m confessin’. Today was a total and complete failure.

If I were going to make excuses (which, of course, I’d never do), I’d say that Caleb was up from 4 a.m. until about 4:20 a.m. and then just when I went back to sleep, Gracie wet her bed and I had to change sheets from about 5:15 until 5:30. But I won’t try to make excuses. Of course.

Nope. I’ll own it. I consciously and in a total state of defiance grabbed my phone and reset my alarm for 6:50. If the Proverbs 31 lady had been there, I would have totally stuck out my tongue at her. I might have even muttered something about how she’d have to pry my snooze button from my cold, dead hands. What can I say? Things are always a little more dramatic at 5:30 in the morning.

But you know what I found out?

It didn’t help. Like…at all. I was still slurring my words and falling asleep at the breakfast table. And then on top of still being tired, I had the added guilt of not doing what I set out to do. There is not one thing on my Wednesday Chore List that has a triumphant little line through it. And I’ve come to realize that I really really like the triumphant little lines. It makes me feel like I won…something…or other. Anyway…

So now I have a whole new motivation to get it right tomorrow. I have that and about five extra things on Thursday’s “to do” list.

So maybe I won’t call today a failure. Maybe I’ll just claim it as a learning experience and move on.

And if the Proverbs 31 lady haunts my dreams tonight, I won’t blame her. Or throw my alarm clock at her. Not that I’ve ever done that to anyone.

Nope.

Never.

Not me.

Filed Under: Proverbs 31 Challenge, Proverbs 31 woman · Tagged: failure, motherhood, proverbs 31 challenge, proverbs 31 woman

Proverbs 31 Challenge: Need. More. Coffee…

April 16, 2013 · By Ashley · 2 Comments

I already found a way to rationalize sleeping until 6:30 a.m. today instead of rising and shining (or glimmering or flickering or something like that) at 6 a.m. But eventually I did get up and head to the living room to exercise. I was so exhausted last night that I didn’t exactly prepare my work out. I guess I figured I could join Perky Kickboxing Girl again but when I actually had to face her, I just couldn’t deal with the giggles. Not before a lot of coffee. I thought yoga would be a nice change of pace from the giggles, but the only one I could find was prenatal yoga. I figured it couldn’t be that different, so I grabbed my mat and set it up.

Do you know how weird it is to do prenatal yoga when there is most definitely nothing prenatal about you? Well. Yes, I’m sure you do. But just in case you don’t, take my word for it. It’s weird. Especially when she tells you to rub your belly. Um. No…Thanks. But I did really like the part when she instructed me to lie down on my side (for baby’s benefit, of course) and then “just rest there for as long as you like.” When I almost fell asleep, I realized this probably wasn’t the most effective work out for me.

Today was a little different because I had to do about 6 hours of work for my job. I was able to do some dishes and vacuum for the first of 3,189 times today (I can definitely tell we have a lab – but she is absolutely above and beyond worth the extra work) before getting the kids ready and starting work time. My mom saved me and took us out to dinner and I’ve never been so happy to “cheat” on a challenge. The enchiladas will wait until tomorrow. It was so great to not have to cook dinner because Jake is working tonight and I had to cook again anyway for my MOPS meeting tomorrow.

But I’m done now. And I still have 9.5 minutes before I’m supposed to be in bed. If I can make it that long.

I’m starting to feel a little embarrassed that these last two days have been so exhausting. What does that say about me? (And that was absolutely rhetorical, by the way. I don’t think I want to know!! haha)

This is supposed to get easier at some point, right?

Please tell me yes. Even if you have to lie to my face.

Actually, I don’t think I’ll even be awake by the time you finish telling me so I’ll just grab my pillow and tell you good night…Or as my very pregnant yoga friend would say, “Namaste.” =)

Filed Under: Proverbs 31 Challenge, Proverbs 31 woman, Uncategorized · Tagged: motherhood, proverbs 31 challenge, proverbs 31 woman

Proverbs 31 Challenge: Exhaustion and Perspective

April 15, 2013 · By Ashley · Leave a Comment

Is it still Monday?

Y’all. I did it. I woke up at 6 a.m. and actually got out of bed. And this is even after changing wet sheets at 5 a.m. I should have stayed up but the idea of even a few more seconds of sleep was just too tempting.

I laced up my shoes and actually headed to the living room for a little kickin’ it old school (literally) with Billy Blanks. Apparently, it was too old school because my Tae Bo VHS (yes, VHS) didn’t work. I had to scramble to find a replacement and ended up with some annoyingly perky girl from the On Demand fitness channel. If she had giggled one more time, I might have jab-cross-hooked the TV.

Really, everything went according to my plan. Which blows my mind completely. Before lunch, I had worked out, showered and dressed, gotten Caleb up and fed and ready for school, eaten breakfast, had quiet time, made the weekly menu, made the grocery list, started the laundry, emptied the dishwasher, vacuumed the whole house, dusted, cleaned the toilets, emptied the trash, cleaned out the fridge, played ball with April, and played with Grace. That was just. the. morning.

I am so so so tired.

But then none of that really seems important after I sat down to write an e-mail and saw the news about Boston.

My heart just absolutely breaks for everyone involved. I am moved to tears by the selfless courage of the first responders and the way our country unites in the wake of tragedy. It brings to the surface that same strange mixture of emotions that we had eleven years ago after September 11th. Anger, sadness, fear, and hope among many others.

I wish I knew who to credit with these images going around Facebook. I found this one on Google images.

Tonight, I will peek in on my sleeping children and thank God that they are safe and peacefully dreaming in their beds.

I will hug my husband extra tight and, instead of complaining about overnight shifts at the hospital, I will be oh so proud that he is one of the “helpers” that Mr. Rogers suggests we find when we see scary things in the news.

Tomorrow, my alarm will again wake me up at 6 a.m. and I’m pretty sure I will have a much better attitude about serving my family. With every single mundane chore that I do, I will whisper a prayer of thanksgiving for my family and many, many more prayers for those families in Boston.

Filed Under: motherhood, Proverbs 31 Challenge, Proverbs 31 woman · Tagged: Boston Marathon Bombings, motherhood, Perspective, proverbs 31 challenge, proverbs 31 woman

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